#and i was on this street near my house and someone was throwing out a bunch of books & toys and i was DESPERATE to look at them

[girltomboy]

Just remembered that last night a man under the influence of something (probably drunk since he was drinking beer but idk, my friend said he looked high) came up to me to ask me if I'm making the list for karaoke (the event that comes after the quiz every Wednesday at the pub) since I had papers in my hand (I was helping my coworker calculate the points for each team). I told him no, but karaoke will start soon once we're done announcing the winners. He sat on a random chair he found (it was someone else's chair) and listened to my coworker announce the winning teams, and laughing his head off for some reason. I told my friend he looks like my dad and showed her a photo and she couldn't stop laughing because she didn't think I was being so literal lmao.

But last night I had a horrible dream involving my dad and it was like he was about to assault me, and I couldn't fight it so I started trying really hard to numb my brain somehow and like disconnect from the present. And then I started to slowly lose my senses in the dream, but it was because I was actually waking up irl. I couldn't believe what had just happened in my brain and I went back to sleep hoping to erase it and never think of it again.

[the-acid-pear]

I seriously don't understand how i had a full on mental breakdown on a huge coffee shop and no one kicked me out like. They just let me scream and bawl my eyes out and shake and just well have a full on breakdown y'know. Bc my mom btw lol. But yeah like. That happened more than once at various places and i NEVER got kicked out or well helped for that matter. It's just interesting!

[cutehoons02]

PRINCESS YOU ARE MINE

* pairing: Heeseung x reader (grumpy x sunshine) (she fell first he fell harder)

* tags: fluffy,kiss,a little smut,misunderstandings

* synopsis: Heeseung couldn’t fall in love with her stylist and her stylist couldn’t fall in love with an idol but the heart doesn’t rule

* word count: 2k (Tell me if you like this kind of stories:)

© cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2024.

(English is not my native language)

Thunder rumbled through the apartment you shared with your college friends in Seoul and before you could close the windows a heavy rain came across Seoul you knew it was time to go to bed, and that your boyfriend, you could call a boyfriend a guy with whom you made a lot of video calls after his concerts, with whom you shared a good hot plate of ramen in the restaurant near Han riven, you wore secretly his sweatshirts at work with still imprinted his strong smell of freshly made laundry but with a note of spices; he would not show up at your house. Yes, you could define the word "boyfriend" but Heeseung had never called you his "girlfriend", and then with the life of Idol you were terrified that this was for Heeseung only a small infatuation with the shy stylist of Enhypen.

The flight from Japan had been delayed by the heavy thunderstorm that hit Korea in those days and Heeseung was eager to escape from that plane and sink into the hot blankets of Y/n which tasted like cinnamon and vanilla, the leader of the Enhypen laughed at seeing the older member so madly leaving the airport and Heeseung gave him a mean look <<You know i’m happy to see you finally in love with someone makes come out in you a Heeseung that i had never seen in my life, you look just like a baby deer just came out of the Disney when you talk or see Y/n, but try to pretend you care about the fans outside!">> "stop Jungwon, i’m not in love with Y/n. We’re just two people who like to spend time together when we are not busy between trips, concerts, events, or shooting." <<At my house this behavior is called "friendship" but we all know that you are not only friends, if one of the other members tried to hit on her you would explode with jealousy or if one of the other dancers who accompany us during the tours ask her out what would you do? And by the way, you deceived yourself because you said that you are not friends but two people who spend time together..>> Heeseung hated when his smaller members made him see the reality of things, and one in particular was Jungwon; many underestimated their friendship because they expected to see him as the leader of the group but he and Jungwon had developed a strong bond over time that was the first to notice Heeseung’s strong interest in Y/n.

Heeseung had just gotten out of the taxi and little drops of rain fell in his hair with a loud puff. It looked like it was almost one o'clock at night. Maybe it was late enough to play at Y/n’s apartment so he decided to throw some small stones in the window of Y/n looking out onto the street, was at the fifth pebble that he threw and was getting a little too wet for his taste until he saw the curly hair and the head of Y/ n sticking out of the window. He walked into the foyer of the apartment and to her great astonishment saw Y/n dressed in a jacket, with jeans a little soaked, and with hair a bit swollen because of the humidity.

<<Angel, what are you doing up at this hour? Don’t tell me you were waiting for your favorite member of the Enhypen like a princess waiting for her prince because we all know i can’t act like a prince when you’re around.>> A small laugh came out of the mouth of Y/n and showed Heeseung that he had in hand a small bag from the pharmacy. "Heeseung if i expected you as a prince at this time i would still be full of pain because of the menstruation, i'm awake because even with bad weather i went to get some medicines that ended up alleviating the pain in my stomach cramps, but you princes can’t understand the suffering we have in the early days and i wasn’t waiting for you, i have more to do than wait for an idol to come and visit me when he’s free" He didn't expect this statement because between the two was the one who preferred to listen and you were never angry with him so a little surprised, and maybe they were true all those times that he heard the other members say their sisters were hyenas while they had the red period.

The thunder was rumbling through the kitchen where Y/n was preparing a good hot tea for both her and Heeseung, she would never have expected to see him outside after a trip of almost 10 days in Japan, was grateful not to have gone with them because she was seriously tired after all the trips they had made during the summer and sometimes she even preferred to break away from Enhypen especially from Heeseung to go and be a stylist in other Hybe groups. Heard the steps of Heeseung entering the kitchen with dry hair and a little uncomplicated because of the hairdryer, With an oversized t-shirt and grey track pants that wrapped her nice long legs and not to mention her b side but Y/n turned around and went back to sip his tea and take his medicine. The kitchen in his apartment looked much smaller and warmer with Heeseung in front of him but he didn’t want to be overwhelmed by the little feelings he had for the boy who had his eyes like a deer.

Heeseung was eager to feel the touch Y/ n and at the same time saw how much force of will tried to make the girl with curly hair/wavy in front of him, so without thinking a moment took Y/n by the hand and brought her into his room and if he put it on his legs, the warm bed and the little cinnamon candle was the bridge between their world and the storm that was outside. <<Tell me what you want from me, i just came back from a hellish trip and every hour that i spent on the plane to get to Seoul I sang silently of happiness to see you but now i found you here with this look that you would want to kill me with your hands.>> Y/n felt pathetic because every time she saw Heeseung she needed to see him for a second, breathe his pungent scent that came from her skin, or even worse be drugged by his touch and his voice. "In these ten days you’ve been away I wouldn’t have expected to miss you, at first i thought you were only good at flirting with everyone especially me but then you showed up in my house with ramen to share, and for my bad luck after you started kissing me before a show with the fear and the thrill that they would find us; besides, you’re cruel because if they found out you wouldn’t have any repercussions because you are Lee Heeseung instead of any stylist who can fire at any moment."

Heeseung looked bad and a slight smirk formed in his lips <<Well if you were afraid that they would discover it was enough to tell me that you did not want to kiss me or could use these beautiful hands to push me away, but your problem is that you seem so good and sweet girl with everyone who loves having my dirty marks under your skirt or near your breast. Don’t pretend to be innocent with me because we both know you love the adrenaline that goes up while i kiss you with the people waiting to send you inside another member to change so they can show up in time to sing a new song.>>

Heeseung’s long fingers made their way under your sweatshirt and little chills hit your body <<No other boy can make you experience this princess, remember only i can hold you in my arms, at the same time adore you and give you what your body needs.>> one hand slid into your life and the other began to tease your right breast and a moan came out of your lips, you were seriously in need of more so he brushed you a little further down until you felt his length pressed between your legs. <<Princess fuck your breasts are so hard and firm that i’m afraid to hurt you but i can’t stop myself, tell me if you want it to continue>> Heeseung moved his hand from your waist to pull back some curly/waves that fell in your forehead to your ear and finally Heeseung felt your lips after more than 10 days in her ears, and to tease him you kissed him slowly and slowly bit his lower lip to hear him moaning. You wanted to be in control of the situation but by your misfortune you needed his touch so much and knew he couldn’t give you all himself, so Heeseung turned the situation around and put you between your pillows <<Where is the shy girl i met at work who tries so hard not to be seen watching me dance and sing, stop thinking you’re gonna control the situation, you only needed my fingers on your body to get you shivers who knows how you’ll react to all the things i’ll do to you when you don’t have your period, princess!>> You felt take off your pajamas and Heeseung looked at you with a look that you had never seen on his face, was adoration of your body but at the same time hunger, and surely you were not ready to know all the dirty visions he had of you. <<Tell me what you want or i can stay watching you all night long" you needed her lips from all over your body and pulled her fluffy hair to your thighs but she stopped to look at you with a grin.>> "Stop being a jerk like Hee, i need you to kiss me for everything and we know that even you can’t take my eyes off me" Little kisses mixed with bites made their way between your thighs and with great pleasure you heard the boy moaning with deer eyes while you pulled his black locks to limit your groans. <<Groan for me princess, make everyone feel who can only make you react with only me kissing you and leaving bites in your thighs>> Groans came out of your mouth until you felt the weight of Hee’s body in front of you and bent down to kiss your lips, He brought your body over his chest and little kisses made their way between your head and your head <<What goes in your tiny head Y/n, i see your gears spinning very strong right now!>> You took her glue as an antistress and a little grumble formed in Heeseung’s smile "What are we? in the sense that you say i'm yours, but what are you to me Hee, for me certainly you are not a friend and we are not even two people who find themselves spending time together because these things are done by friends” you lifted from his chest and his big arms strapped your hips <<Did you and Jungwon agree to drive me crazy today>> You watched him laughing and he stood to kiss your forehead <<I was yours from the first moment i saw you Y/n>>.

[temis-de-leon]

Replaced MC AU/AU - V.3 - P.1

Characters: demon brothers, Diavolo, Barbatos, male! MC and crushing! male! NES (MC x NES)

Main Masterlist

Replaced MC AU/AU Masterlist (check the other versions and learn more about the NESs!)

Intro (gn!reader) , Part 2

CW: Solomon is mentioned, jealous and mean brothers, black cat x golden retriever behavior i think, one single kiss, a bit ambiguous at the end, not very angsty really, NES x MC centered

A/N: my favourite version of NES and MC by far, I enjoyed writing this a lot. However, my pc came out as homophobic and decided not to connect to any WiFi for this chapter, so I won't be able to update the links nor the masterlist until next week. Also, some people aren't properly tagged once again because I can't find their blogs for some reason?? So so sorry for that, but I don't know what to do about it.

.

NES was… someone they didn't expect. Unknowingly infuriating, always distracted and too unbothered to care about any of his surroundings. He was a disaster that enjoyed living in disaster and, if they weren't threatened by his presence, Satan and Belphegor would love his insolence.

Barbatos remembered an occasion, one moment from the second week of NES's attendance at RAD, where Lucifer gave him an earful for his ‘impropriety and insulting attitude towards the uniform’. Mammon had been there too, shirt out of his pants and jacket nowhere near closed, backing his brother up.

NES’s pristine appearance lasted only two periods before MC saw him chocking under his tie and laughed at him in sympathy. After that, he'd only wear the uniform ‘the Lucifer way’ if MC was there to eventually mess up the outfit.

And how could the eldest brother object to that?

“They need to loosen up, Lucifer”

MC always had the last word.

Solomon found the situation hilarious. Witnessing the brothers competing against each other in search of MC's attention was one thing, but adding NES to the equation? Yes, Barbatos had to somewhat agree. It was funny.

Who had been cooking for hours in the kitchen if not NES trying to make a quick snack for his fellow human? And who was the first one to leave the House of Lamentation each morning, already waiting next to MC’s seat by the time everyone else arrived?

Mammon called him a simp. Asmo liked to call them both the kettle and the pot.

And while, yes, Lucifer was the one and only Avatar of Pride, none of the brothers were able to admit just how big of a deal NES was becoming.

When would it be too late?

.

.

The Demon Prince's birthday arrived and the mandatory celebration was as grandiose as one could expect. Everything was bright and full of laughter, the streets cramped with food stalls, demons and witches alike throwing mesmerizing magic tricks for the children, acrobats, costumes, music…

At one point MC considered handcuffing himself to NES. Even Luke was easier to manage!

Fortunately, Beel ended up finding him playing darts with a succubus and her partners. Unfortunately, MC seemed to be the only one who wanted to check if he was okay.

It was becoming… draining.

Not NES, of course. Sure, he was a handful, but none of his mistakes were intentional. Everything he did came from naiveness and ignorance, being new to the Devildom, and what he lacked in common sense he made up in enthusiasm.

At least he didn't steal his valuables and he’d never threatened to kill him or eat his heart, something MC still thought about frequently. The worst thing NES ever did to him was throw them both to the ground when he tried to slide on the floor at full speed. And he still apologized for that from time to time.

Did the brothers ever apologize for all the things they did or said? The way they used to look at him? He couldn't remember.

Now they were doing the exact same thing to NES. Treating him like an unwanted guest instead of the roommate they insisted on having, turning down every single one of his ideas, including the good ones, and very passively threatening him in a condescending tone, as if they could impress MC with that.

Maybe it was a demon thing? Or rather regular jealousy brought to a dangerous level?

Whatever the reason, MC didn't waste any time sitting them in the living room and chewing the hell out of them, something that enraged Lucifer and put a strain in their relationship, still making it difficult to make small talk, but of course none of them would back down. The rest of the brothers weren't so obvious showing their annoyance, but it was still there.

The good thing was that, as long as MC was there, NES wouldn't be the receiving end of any bullshit. The bad thing was that MC didn't know what was going on behind his back. And NES, bless his soul, was never willing to tell him if any of them made him uncomfortable.

It was draining and NES gave him a sense of peace, but the brothers missed him and they wanted to monopolize his time, but MC wanted to spend time with his new friend and that made the brothers angry and jealous, which made MC anxious, which made NES worry.

Every factor made the situation worse. The brothers were too much, NES was too good for the Devildom and MC was too done with everything.

However, the time passed surprisingly fast as they sang Happy Birthday to Diavolo, eating in the midst of it all, dancing with each other and talking like they used to do before the ridiculous ordeal, albeit with a subtle tension that limited their topics of conversation.

They even ignored NES! Which was better than any other option!

So, once the voices toned down and the guests divided themselves into small groups, MC forced himself to whisk Diavolo away for a moment and have a serious talk, Barbatos following close and listening with a curious glance.

That proved to be nothing but a waste of time.

“It's too soon to take conclusions, MC. I'm sure the brothers just need time. After all, remember your first year here!”

He did remember. That's why he was so worried.

And why did Diavolo talk to him like that? He was 100% sure Lucifer insulted NES to no end anytime he had more than one horn of Demonus. What did they call NES in the privacy of their office? What did they think while they talked to him and faked respect? What were they plotting when they looked MC in the eyes and promised him they wouldn't threaten NES anymore?

Too many lies.

“Alo?”

But then… NES smiled so easily… Like none of that bothered him. Luckily, MC didn't mind caring in his behalf. He wondered if being able to save someone from the fate he had last year was the root of all his actions.

“You look so worried, you're gonna get all wrinkly! Not like you'd look bad, but if you're going to have wrinkles, won't you rather have them in your eyes? Like, from smiling too much, you know?”

He did smile then, imitating NES’s caring expression.

“There you are, handsome! You're gonna be the envy of all in 90 years!”

“Do you really think I'm going to live that much?”

“God, I hope so”

They laughed softly, but it still sounded too loud. MC looked out for the brothers, checking their positions in the ballroom before grabbing NES’s hand and dragging him to one of the balconies. He preferred not having the moment tarnished.

“Good idea! Too hot in there…"

“Don't lie to me”

“Wha…?”

MC stared at him quite sternly, although trying not to look to much like Lucifer, but he needed an answer.

“Do they still bother you? Do they threaten you? Do they ignore you? What do they do?”

“Whoa, whoa, MC. Here comes the frown again…”

He raised his hands, caressing MC’s frown until it softened. His touch was warm and soft and it made MC lean towards him, not wanting it to end. When he opened his eyes again, unknowingly closing them before, NES stayed in that position.

There was silence for a few seconds, interrupted only by the violins, the harps, the pianos and other instruments serenading them under the moonlight. NES could only stare at MC’s lips for a fragment of a second before someone grabbed the scruff of their necks with poorly hidden aggressiveness and brought them back to the ballroom.

MC raised his gaze in fury, bending down to help NES get up again. He expected to see red eyes and black feathers, but, to his surprise, what stared back at him were purple eyes and a long bovine tail.

He wanted to scream at him, to ask what the actual fuck was wrong with him. Would he had acted the same if it was one of his brothers instead of NES? Would he had such hate in his eyes?

But people were staring, very obviously amused at the sight of two humans being put back in place.

MC would have to wait.

.

.

“NES! What happened?!”

MC watched as the boy waved at him, hanging upside down where Mammon usually spent countless hours. His arms were tied behind his back and the rope covered his body in a way that surely left no room for the blood to circulate properly. His head already looked dangerously red and MC knew he couldn't leave him there for too long unless he wanted him to have permanent damage.

“I think I failed my last test, but I don't really remember”

“What do you mean you don't remember?”

“Well, I'm very dizzy right now, but I'm sure it's okay. Lucifer will get me out of here soon enough”

Or he won't.

MC sighed, cursing in silence before studying the thick ropes and the tight knots. He knew he wouldn't be able to untie him by hand and he wouldn't be surprised if the kitchen suddenly lacked knives, no doubt the result of Lucifer's pettiness and sadism.

“Wait for me here, okay? I have to get something to cut the ropes…”

“Wait, wait! MC!”

He turned around, patiently staring at his loopy smile and cloudy eyes. He couldn't wait for too long, but maybe he could indulge a couple of minutes.

“What?”

NES briefly looked away, his embarrassment gaining MC’s attention. Now that was a rare sight.

“Have you seen Spiderman?”

His heart stopped for a second and he felt his cheeks getting hot. His hand, previously grasping his hip, fell to his side and made him lose balance.

“You can say no, of course. We can forget about this and I won't get offended. A little sad maybe, but I can manage. I like you too much to stop liking you for a kiss. Does that sound weird? You get me, right?”

His rambling gave MC the opportunity to go down a couple of steps in the staircase and align his face in front of NES’s. The position was weird and staring at his chin was an experience he didn't know he would get the chance to live, but he didn't care.

It wasn't until he finally kissed him mid-sentence that he noticed a figure peeking around the corner, eyes staring without blinking and jealousy ready to made itself known.

Accepting the challenge, MC closed his eyes and grasped NES’s hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

Dinner that night would be fucking awkward.

.

.

.

Taglist: : @stfuchaase @k1-an @meggs-wonderland @kkeromenoo @va109 @marvelous-maniac @cruzerforce4256 @blarsh @marathedemonoverlord @junni-berry @arylleb @b-a-m-2006 @jonielunar @piercedddriver @cosmidaydreaming @bluegrey02 @anxious-chick

[greynatomy]

you made it

leah williamson x reader

last fic of 2023 (at least from where i am)

i want to thank all who’ve read all that i’ve put out this year and all the mutuals i’ve made. i appreciate each and every one of you.

hope you all have a happy new year!

———

Leah Williamson, the captain of England who led her team to victory in the Euros, was rushing through the streets of London, rushing to get back home, apologizing to all she runs into.

Leah was invited to a ‘party’ with many other athletes all the way in New York. She’d told her agent to decline the invitation, but she couldn’t get out of it. She usually had a plus one with her, but not tonight.

‘Who would throw an event like this on New Year’s Eve?’ She thought.

After winning the Euros, the captain was invited to even after event, hardly any breaks in between on top of her ACL recovery. Finding some time for herself is rare, but not impossible. She makes it work. But right now, her priority is to get home as soon as possible.

—

Leah is back home in Milton Keynes at some neighborhood party time ring in 2018. She’s just sign her senior contract for Arsenal a couple months back and is at an all time high.

Mingling around the house with people her age, she decided to step outside a bit for some space. Walking towards the pool, she sees someone sat on the edge of it.

“Think I could join you?” Leah asked rather timidly.

“Go ahead.” You gestured to the spot next to you. 

Leah mirrors you, taking her shoes and socks off, splashing her feet in the water a bit. When you finally turn your head towards her, her breath got caught in her throat.

‘Beautiful’ She thought.

Talking to you was like a breath of fresh air to Leah. It was as if she knew you for longer than the hour you both sat by the pool. You both weren’t aware of the time until you heard everyone else inside counting down.

10

9

8

7

6

5

Leah looks a bit nervous when you turned your head towards her, so you placed your hand on her arm. 

4

Leah however, was even more nervous now. Your touch sent sparks throughout her body, something she’s never felt before.

3

2

Leah turns her whole body to face you, where you were already looking at her. She timidly reaches over and delicately places a hand on your cheek, leaning her face closer.

“May I?” She asks in a whisper.

You hold her wrist, the one by your face and lean in, closing the gap.

1

Your lips were soft, molding perfectly with Leah’s.  She closes her eyes, relishing in the moment. After what felt like forever, you pulled away, much to Leah’s disappointment.

“Wow.” Was the first thing Leah said, seeing a blush creep up onto your cheeks, her cheeks doing the same.

You bite your bottom lip to stop the corner of your lips from rising. You get up from the side of the pool, grabbing your shoes, Leah copying.

“Thank you for the New Year’s kiss.” You say, backing away from where Leah is rooted from her spot.

“Thank you for letting me.” She replied. Just before you left, she called out to you. “I don’t even know your name!”

All you gave her was a smile and a wink, disappeared from her view.

~

New Year’s Eve 2019 was a bit similar as the year before. She was back in Milton Keynes, but stayed to celebrate back at home. Her mum invited a few friends.

It was nearing midnight, a minute before the clock struck twelve when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Leah smirked, leaning close. “It is my mum’s house.”

“Touché.”

You were each other’s New Year’s kiss for the second time in a row. But before you disappeared again, she caught your hand, pulling you incredibly close to her body.

“Would you want to go on a date?”

“You don’t even know my name.”

“Do you know mine?”

You shook your head side to side.

“Y/N.” 

“Y/N. Beautiful.”

“Yours?”

“Leah.”

“Well, Leah. It looks like you’ve got yourself a date.”

—

Right when Leah got off the plane, she rushed out the building, hoping to quickly catch a cab, which she fortunately got into one.

Sitting in the back seat, she checks her watch.

11:38

Twenty-two minutes until midnight.

“Is there a way around the traffic?” She asks the driver.

“It’s New Year’s Eve. Everyone’s trying to get home.”

She knows London like the back of her hand, and knew she was close to home, so she quickly pays the man, thanking him, and runs off, passing all the cars.

11:50

She runs a bit faster, already seeing her street from where she is. Many people staring at her, but she didn’t care, she just had to get home.

11:55

She was only a couple of streets away, making her more determined than ever. She’d be damned if she didn’t make it in time.

11:59

Arriving at the front door, she pats all her pockets, looking for her keys. She can hear everyone around the neighborhood counting down.

She rapidly knocks on the door, hoping for it to just magically open. It did right when the clock struck midnight.

You were, however, caught off guard when you feel lips pressed onto yours, about to push the person away when a familiar pair of arms wrapped around your waist.

Wrapping your own arms around her neck, you deepen the kiss, cheers and fireworks can be heard in the background, neither of you paying any mind.

Pulling away, she rests her forehead against your, the both of your catching your breath.

“You made it.” Your voice was soft, not wanting to break the bubble you two are in.

“You’ve been my New Year’s kiss since 2018, I’d be damned if I ever missed one.” Leah pulls you back in for another kiss, before kneeling down and giving your bump a soft kiss. “It’s also our last one as a family of two.” She looks up at you from her kneeling position.

“Oh, how I love you so much.”

[captainpondlilly]

Okay! The Gilear plush has arrived. This is my best attempt at all of his lines. Two have been unintelligible to me, and several are pretty long and fast which made it hard to follow.

My search history is.. hospitals near me, foot stuck in object, head stuck in object

You're low, he's low, It's Gilear's day baby!*

A guy on the street kicked me in the nuts as hard he could

I don't like "lunchlad"

Help me to understand what I have done to deserve this

My horoscope says "today is a good day to die motherfucker"

I ate a quick cup of yogurt on the way over here to bolster my spirits after I changed, I'm ever so sorry

What do you mean "When" life gives you lemons

I went to apply for the guidance counselor position but I was usurped by a drug dealing werewolf named Jawbone

In my haste to put the armor on I buckled the leg plate and think I clipped the tip of my penis against one of the leg plates and Everytime I move it feels like it might fall off so I ASSURE you demon I have no pride to speak of!

In highschool I was voted "Most Likely To Get Pushed Out Of A Tree"

My car was repossessed by the ride share app that I was working for

It's actually a good thing that no one came to my birthday party because the bounce house flooded and was swept out to sea

I just discovered that *all* of my emails have been going to everyone's spam

Unfortunately I have been banned from that hot air balloon service not because of anything that happened to me in particular but the guys who run it just sort of know my whole deal

Mmm this yogurt tastes like *potatoes*

I asked the woman at Home Depot why my plants kept dying and she said it seemed like they were reaching away from the sun

I've found out recently that one of my shoes is so filled with mildew because a pipe in my bedroom is leaking and I've developed a fungal infection in my foot which I didn't know was possible for elves to get

I don't think that I've ever "Peaked" in that we started neutral and have been going downhill ever since

I am currently trapped in a storm drain. The bottom half of me is above the ground, the other is below

Another Own Goal for Gilear Faeth, yes

Everyone knows you eat 7 spiders in your sleep every year, but I have a bunch coming into me the backway

My sandcastle I'm afraid was destroyed, as I was about to finish it, the tide came in and with it a man holding a bazooka who shot me and killed me

I know you're not going to believe this but Ive just been kicked by a snake

I found out the hard way that people can legally reject status as an emergency contact

The title of my autobiography is going to be Gilear Faeth: Please Stop

On my way here I was carrying a large bowl of Italian wedding soup which shattered on the ground in front of me and several of the small pasta balls rolled through the cracks and alerted vermin to my presence. I've since learned after a trip to the hospital I am deathly allergic to the sting of millipedes which is a way of me saying I need someone to come down to the hospital and pay for this. There is a doctor holding a gun to my head and now that I think about it this clinic is in the back of a storage unit and I think have gone to the wrong place

he said and I quote "he'd stomp my goon ass" if I ever got on his bus again

Gorthalax it was very nice to meet you, you've made a cuckold of me

We're the throw up boys!*

I've been informed that the brownies I consumed were laced with cannabis and rat poison

I am completely unprepared for the perils ahead and am deeply frightened, I'll go get the coffee

A gorilla monster punched me so hard in the back of the head I died

Today I have been hit by 3 scooters

Everytime you squeeze my hand it breaks several small bones

My imaginary friend as a child ghosted me because he said I was too depressing

Do you want me to go back? I warn you, it will break me

Can I interest you in an herbal soda? You must understand I am an intern at a ponzi scheme*

When I go to sleep at night I dream of a world where I might be able to walk through a field without stepping on a rake or gopher hole

If anyone needs me... I will be surprised.

If it wasn't for bad luck, Id have no luck is both true and what was written upon the billboard I crashed through

I wonder if any of these will feature in Junior year 👀

*Thanks to @cappa-cappa for telling me the lines I wasn't able to make out!!

[ashwhowrites]

so I was wondering if you could do a story where Robin has been spending less time with her girlfriend ever since she got her license and so she thinks reader is cheating on her since she got a car and could go where ever she wanted so one day to get her out of her slump Steve takes her to see a street racing competition and who does she sees their? Reader kicking ass and ignoring every girl and boy who flirted with her and immediately goes to kiss Robin the second she sees her. So she’s definitely not cheating and reader explained that the reason they where here more was because of the extra money she could make to buy Robin a gift 🥺

(kinda like angst to fluff and maybe smut at the end idk)

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻 there isn't any smut, I'm sorry

Racer

Robin knew never learning how to drive would come back to bite her in the ass. She cursed herself for never learning or even attempting. She enjoyed Stevedriving her around, getting to be the passenger DJ and shout orders.

Ever since her girlfriend Y/N got a license, she has barely seen her. She was constantly driving off and never seemed to be home when Robin called. The random act of disappearance ate away at Robin's brain. She felt like her skin was constantly itchy as she felt uncomfortable in her clothes.

Something was going on and Robin had a horrible gut feeling about what it was. Someone was taking up all of her girlfriend's time, putting her in a slump.

Steve felt worried for his friend and wanted to do something to get her out of the house. He didn't want to believe Y/N was cheating, but Robin made a good argument. Still, Steve demanded she got fresh air.

Robin sighed as Steve's car came to a stop, she took in her surroundings.

"Is this a race track?" She asked, truthfully she had never been to one or thought of going to one. But now that she was here, and could hear the screams of fans she was intrigued.

"Yep, so let's watch some racing and get your mind off her." Steve smiled, hopping out of his car and Robin followed.

They walked down the bleachers, heading for the front spot near the fence. The cars were loud and the smoke filled Robin's nose. She wasn't sure if this was legal, but she was amazed by all the different kinds of cars and people.

She looked to her left and felt her eyes widen, she elbowed Steve repeatedly until he finally looked.

"Holy shit, is that Y/N?" Steve asked, he quickly checked her out before Robin noticed. Y/N was in jean shorts and a tank top, gloves on her hands as she leaned against her new car. She was talking to someone, and feeling eyes on her she looked over.

Robin couldn't help but smile at the reaction Y/N had seeing her. Y/N was quick to end the conversation, with a big smile as she waved. Robin waved back, stunned by how hot her girlfriend looked and wondering why she was here.

Robin kept her eyes on her as Y/N walked over to them, ignoring every boy who tried to walk up to talk to her. Robin could hear the whistles and cat calls, but Y/N ignored them.

"Rob!" Y/N cheered, throwing her arms around Robin and pulling her into a kiss

Robin slowly kissed back, her head still spinning from the wild events.

"What are you doing here?" Robin asked when she pulled away, Steve stood a few feet back to give them privacy.

"A little side job to make some extra cash. I've been winning races like crazy, and saving every dime for your birthday. What are you doing here?" Y/N asked her arms still around Robin's neck.

"That is so sweet," Robin cooed, feeling extremely guilty for thinking she was cheating. "I uh...Steve wanted to get me out of the house and brought me here." Robin explained

"Well, I'm glad you are here. Let me show you around." Y/N smiled, she removed her arms, instead slipping her hand in Robin's. "Steve, you are welcome to join."

"That's alright. You girls have fun" Steve winked, walking to find a seat.

"So...my girlfriend is a street racer?" Robin asked, a real smile appearing on her face. She nudged her shoulder against Y/N's as they walked towards the track

[leiawritesstories]

Best Dream Ever

Rowaelin Month 2024, Day 3: Idiots in Love @rowaelinscourt

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: some swearing, alcohol, ridiculous amounts of fluff

Enjoy!!!

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

Why the hell is someone knocking on my door at eight p.m.? Aelin grumbled to herself as she reluctantly walked to her front door, wine glass in hand. It had been a heck of a work week, and she was a grown woman who was entitled to her post-work drink. She rose up onto her tiptoes to look through the glass panes near the top of the door and did a double take when she found her neighbor from down the street standing on her porch, looking for all the world like he was about to bolt. 

“Rowan?” She opened the door. “You alright?” 

He ducked into her house, pushed the door closed, and looked frantically out the window, chest heaving like he was afraid for his life. “I am now, I think.” 

She raised a brow. “Look, I know we’re neighbors and friends and all that, but seriously. What the hell?” 

He held up his hands. “I’m sorry, Ae, I really am. I texted you like fifteen times.” 

“Ah, shit.” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and waved it in front of him. “Dead, I’m sorry. Ran out of battery on the way home from work and honestly haven’t wanted to charge it.” 

“Fair enough.” He walked beside her down the hallway to her living room and flopped down on the couch he liked, groaning in relief when his head hit the throw pillows. 

“Long week for you too?” 

He grumbled something incomprehensible and moved the pillow off of his face. “Have you ever had six adult men show up at your door armed with gods-only-know how much booze and zero warning and proceed to set up shop in your house?” 

“Can’t say I have,” she drawled. 

“Wouldn’t recommend.” He raked his hands through his messy, pale hair. “I made the mistake of telling the guys that I got that deal with the MLB team, and they apparently decided that this was their sign to come into town and crash my weekend. Seems like I ‘don’t celebrate right,’ whatever the fuck that means.” 

Aelin hid her smile behind her wine. “Which one of the twins said that?” 

“Fen, of fucking course,” Rowan said dryly. “Who else d’you think could convince all the guys to drop everything and converge on my house for a weekend? We’re not in college anymore, not like he understands that.” 

“I’m sure he’ll come around eventually,” Aelin offered. “For now, though, you know you always have a place here. Just…you don’t need to crash for the night, do you?” 

Pink tinged Rowan’s cheeks, and he slipped his backpack off of his shoulders. “Well, now that you mention it…” 

She laughed and stood up. “You know where the spare room is, Ro. Want a beer or something?” 

“Sounds fuckin’ amazing.” He went down the hall to drop off his bag in her spare room and returned a few minutes later in sweatpants and an old university t-shirt. Gratefully, he took the beer bottle from her hand and tipped half its contents down his throat. “Fuck, that’s good.” 

“It’s from the case of ‘good stuff’ you dumped in my garage three weeks ago,” Aelin said, pairing her words with a poke to his side. “Quit using me as your beer overflow, Whitethorn.” 

“Who else could I trust not to drink it?” he grinned, slinging one arm around her shoulders. “If I let one of the guys keep it at their place, it’d be gone in a day, never mind that it’s a small batch craft brew that needs at least thirty-two hours of chilling before you can really get the tasting notes.” 

“Snob,” she teased, turquoise eyes sparkling with laughter. 

He smirked. “It’s called good taste, Ae, and you—” 

A fist thudded rapidly against Aelin’s front door. 

She looked at Rowan, and he looked back at her, eyes wide. “Please don’t let them in,” he whispered, and he took off down the hall to hide in the spare room. 

“Men,” she sighed. She strolled down the hallway, peered out the window, and cracked open her door just a few inches. “What the hell do you want, Moon Moon?” 

Grinning broadly and probably tipsily, Fenrys tried to lean on her doorframe and stumbled sideways before regaining his balance. “Where’s Rowie?” 

Aelin fixed the blonde man with a flat, unimpressed look. “Ask me in normal-people words, Fenny boy.” 

Fenrys inhaled dramatically. “My dear darling Aelin, have you seen Rowan lately? We came to his place to celebrate him getting the MLB deal, but we’d barely been there for an hour before he said he needed to grab something from the store. Haven’t seen the guy since.” 

“Does this look like the store, Moon Moon?” she deadpanned. 

“Nobody thought he was actually going to the store!” Fen protested. He tried to push open her door, but she clicked her tongue and fixed him with a look that made him stop in his tracks. 

“Fen, you’re a good friend, but this is my first work-free weekend in months, and if I have to miss any more of 10 Things I Hate About You, I will eviscerate you with my work heels. Okay?” 

“Leaving!” he yelped. “Text us if you know where Rowan is, though, yeah?” 

“You’re the ones at his place, you can text him,” she returned. “Goodnight, Moon Moon. Don’t fall off any rooftops again.” 

“It was one time!” he yelled, but she’d already closed the door. 

Aelin went back down to her living room, plopped onto the couch, and grumbled something rather unpleasant about the amount of men who banged on her door at all hours of the day. “Coast is clear, Whitethorn,” she called. 

He came back into the living room a minute later. “Thanks for handling him, Ae.” 

“Anything for a little bit of peace, right?” His huff of a laugh tugged at a thread low in her stomach, but she ignored the odd sensation. “Let me know if you need anything that you can’t find. I’m gonna go upstairs and watch brain-rotting chick flicks until I fall asleep, but you’re more than free to watch one of those docuseries you have such a hard-on for.” 

“Aelin!” Rowan’s face reddened, and he choked out her name in a shocked, strangled cough. “Gods, why’d you have to say it like that?” 

“Because you’re too cute when you’re all flustered, buzzard,” she laughed. “G’night!” She headed upstairs to her bathroom, and after a very long shower and a solid half hour of carefully applying her skincare, she tugged one of her favorite nightgowns over her head and rolled into her bed. She could pick up the faint sounds of water running in the guest bathroom down the hall, and coupled with the soft whir of her ceiling fan, she was soon asleep. 

Only to pop awake not quite three hours later. 

Groaning, she rolled onto her other side and closed her eyes, taking deep steady breaths to try and encourage her restless mind to quiet down. As soon as she managed to quiet her roiling mind, though, her stomach rumbled. 

Traitor. 

Aelin flopped onto her stomach and ignored the growly rumble it emitted in protest, but the more she tried to fall back asleep, the more her body resisted. Finally, in defeat, she muttered a string of curses under her breath and rolled out of bed. She pushed her feet into her slippers, flicked on her bedside lamp, and crept out of her room and down the hall. She took the stairs slowly, because at least half of them creaked loud enough to wake the whole street if stepped on too firmly, but she eventually made it out to the kitchen. The glowing numbers on the oven clock flashed 1:55, taunting her with the ridiculous hour. 

Quietly, Aelin pulled open the pantry door, scanning the shelves quickly and finding nothing that sounded particularly good. She moved over to the fridge and glanced inside, huffing in irritation when she didn’t immediately think of anything quick to grab. After a few minutes, she gave up and opened the freezer, her fingers closing around the pint carton of ice cream tucked into the door shelf. She got a spoon from the drawer and sat down at one of the barstools at the high-top counter, not bothering with a bowl. 

She was only a few bites into the deliciously rich triple chocolate when heavier footsteps creaked on the stairs and a very sleepy, very mussed Rowan half-stumbled into the kitchen. 

His bleary gaze wandered around the kitchen, skipping over her once before snapping back to where she sat with her ice cream. The corners of his mouth tipped up, and he mumbled unintelligibly to himself. “Don’t fall over,” she heard him mumble, and he slid his hand along the countertop to guide his steps as he crossed the kitchen. Straight over to her. 

���Hey, you.” She couldn’t be entirely sure whether he was awake or sleepwalking, so she left her spoon in the carton of ice cream and stood up. “Having a good dream, Ro?” 

“’Bout to get even better.” His arms looped around her waist, and he dipped his head and kissed her. A soft hitched gasp broke from her lips, and she slid one hand up the back of his neck into his messy hair and angled his face so she could kiss him properly. It was a long, drawn-out moment before he pulled back, head tilted back to catch a gulping breath, and his eyes snapped back to hers, clear and aware. “Best dream ever.” 

She blinked slowly. “Ro, are you asleep?” 

“I gotta be.” He passed the pad of his thumb over her lips. “It’s the only time I get to kiss you like this, Ae.” 

“Rowan,” she breathed, heart skipping in her chest. “I…I’m awake.” 

His jaw went slack, and he impulsively grabbed her hand. “Pinch me.” 

“What?” 

“Pinch me, Ae. Gotta know if I’m still dreaming.” Obligingly, she pinched the skin at the crease of his elbow, and he let out a tiny, high-pitched squeak. “Fuck, that—am I awake?” 

“I’d imagine so.” Her eyes traveled slowly downwards, until they landed on their linked hands. “This wasn’t what I was expecting when I came down for midnight ice cream.” Uncertainty clouded his face, and she squeezed his hand. “It’s better.” 

Hope, bright and buoyant, broke free in his grin. “Really?” 

“Really.” She closed the distance between them, rolled up onto her tiptoes to meet his lips. “I think I’ve had this dream before, but it’s better in real life.” And she kissed him.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchiii

@fauna-flora11

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for talking on the phone while shopping?

So this happened months ago but it still weighs on me when I’m reminded of it and I want to know if I was an asshole, if I’m being dramatic, etc.

For context I have PTSD and AVPD (avoidant personality disorder - think social anxiety, but much more intense, lifelong, and you can’t ‘cure’ it or really medicate it).

For a very long time I didn’t leave my house at all. The last year or so I’ve been really working on it and I can do small things like go to a nearby shop, but sometimes I still have bad days where I can’t do that without having someone with me.

I moved into a new place and it was ideally located, there was a small corner shop literally seconds from my front door on the same little street. It was the only store in that area so it was my only option and I was lucky it was so near. However because the area was unfamiliar it really set off my mental illnesses and for the first couple of months living there I couldn’t make myself go out of my home, needing my sisters (who are wonderful) or my partner to bring me basic groceries or go with me.

One day I wanted to take that step but I couldn’t make myself do it completely alone (trust me I tried, I was sitting for several hours with my jacket on trying to psych myself up to go). Eventually I asked my partner, who was too busy to come with me, if they could be on the phone with me while I went - this sometimes helps because it gives me something to focus on that’s not the people around me and lets me feel like I have a lifeline of sorts. They agreed and eventually I worked up the courage to walk to the store.

I got in and had the phone to my ear but was keeping my voice as quiet as I could, though I was the only person in the shop aside from the woman (maybe 50s-60s) behind the till, so I didn’t feel as bad as I usually would about disturbing other shoppers etc. I picked up basic stuff, got to the till, put the phone on mute and put it down on the counter so I could have my hands free to bag things up.

The woman was acting a little weird, just kind of short and giving me looks, but I was just kind of trying to get out as fast as possible so I didn’t think too much of it. I asked her if I could have a bag and she didn’t seem to hear me. Asked again and she said okay. After she’d scanned everything she scrunched up my receipt and went to throw it away and she noticed I was still hesitating, so she asked if I’d wanted to keep it and I said “No sorry I’m just waiting for the bag”

And she just. Blew up.

She started screaming about how maybe if I’d been paying attention to her instead of my phone I would have asked earlier, how I was rude, how it ruined her day to have customers like me. For the first few seconds I remember kind of weakly smiling because I thought she was being jokingly mad, because that’s how absolutely out of nowhere it was - just 1-100 in a second. I still remember the look in her eyes when she was shouting at me, like… I can’t even describe how much genuine anger and hatred was in her face, her eyes were twitching and she was genuinely shaking with anger. Raised voices and anger in general are one of my biggest PTSD triggers so this just… broke me. She was holding my groceries to her chest while I kept trying to reach for them so I couldn’t leave and I just had to stand there and let her shout. Another customer came in so I didn’t even feel like I could argue back so I just grabbed my stuff and basically ran home and then broke down.

I was completely back to square one and I felt like it instilled that I couldn’t leave my home and be independent because the first time I’d gotten the courage to go out mostly-alone this had happened.

I didn’t want to put in a complaint because I didn’t want to be That Person, but my mother ended up calling the manager on my behalf and after she followed up he said he’d spoken to her but no more detail than that.

For the rest of the time I lived there I didn’t go back to the store even with people except on hours I knew she wasn’t there, because my sister ended up asking around the area and someone told her they knew who she was talking about because she had a reputation of being “like that” and gave her her working hours so I could avoid her.

I eventually moved away again and didn’t need to use the shop anymore, but this was brought back again because a few weeks ago I was passing through with my sister and we dropped by so my sister could grab something, and the woman was there again stocking shelves. As soon as she saw me she completely stopped what she was doing to just stare at me, then started aggressively throwing the things onto the shelves before going back to the till. My sister would probably have said something if she’d been rude in front of her, but she was completely fine to her and served her politely.

I didn’t really realise how badly it was still affecting me until then because I was just standing frozen in front of the door waiting to be able to leave and my hands were shaking really badly.

So AITA for being on my phone in a shop and being rude? The reasons I think I could be TA are that she treated my sister perfectly fine, when I told family about it afterwards some of them said that in her defense being on my phone while shopping was pretty rude, and I got my mother to complain to her boss about her (even though I don’t think she got in trouble I think she was probably mad about this)

What are these acronyms?

[moominbuge]

27 Dresses

⋆⭒˚.⋆always the bridesmaid, never the bride...⋆⭒˚.⋆

In which you're a chronic bridesmaid and a lover of weddings, and Ellie is a love-repulsed wedding reporter who works for a newspaper.

a/n- hiii guys i wrote up this first part today, i honestly don't know how long it will take me to write more oops but trust i want to! lowkey my first post on tumblr so if this flops </3 this part is around 700 words and is mainly just intro...actual interaction soon to come! love u mean it

You were running so, so late.

On most days, your agenda was booked and followed down to the very seconds of the day.

7AM- wake up

7:05AM- get in shower

7:20AM- exit shower, brush teeth

7:22AM- get dressed

7:27AM- start coffee maker

7:30AM- drink coffee and try not to regret your decisions thus far

You get the idea.

Today, however, you were running late. Your alarm failed to sound at 7, so you were late to the shower, which made you late to have your coffee, and so on.

On top of that, your heavenly, brown-leather-bound agenda was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t the absolute end of the world, since you basically have your schedule memorized for the next year and a half, but it was like losing your security blanket. You felt exposed. Empty, almost.

After throwing on a somewhat-acceptable outfit for your office assistant job, you swallowed your last sip of coffee before bolting out the wooden door of your apartment and down the street towards the bus stop. If you could run fast enough, you would make it just in time-

The bus closes its doors and departs, with you still standing outside.

Fuck.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Ellie woke up on the right side of the bed. Her morning meeting with the editor of her newspaper column was cancelled, allowing her to get an extra 30 minutes of sleep. When she visited her usual coffee shop to get her iced chai, they gave her a croissant on the house. She had not felt this refreshed and energized in years!

And, best of all, she felt the weight of a little leather-bound agenda in her work bag.

The night before, she was attending a friend from college’s wedding. She was surprised when the wedding invite arrived in her mailbox, since she hadn’t spoken to this girl since undergrad, but she RSVP’d nonetheless. What, who was she to turn down an open bar and the opportunity to watch a potential bridezilla/bridesmaid meltdown?

Anyways, she showed up in a nice, collared shirt and some black dress pants that were in the back of her closet. As she sipped on her whiskey and waved at some old friends, she saw something that caught her eye.

Or, rather, someone.

You, in a god-awful bridesmaid dress (seriously, what happened to neutral tones and simple silhouettes? Are bridesmaid dresses that bad to ensure that the bride looks the best?), rushing towards the exit, nearly tripping in your heels. Intrigued, she sets her glass down, and begins to sneak away outside behind you.

 “Ok, here is the deal. I’ll pay you $300 to drive me around all night, but if you peak into the backseat, I’ll drop it by $20-“ she overheard you talking to a taxi driver, reaching down to rip off your heels. The driver nods, begins to speak, but you cut him off- “Nope, I’m not changing that rule. I just need you to take me back and forth between these venues.”

You throw yourself into the backseat when the cabbie nods, and Ellie watches, amused. Who is this girl? Aren’t you the maid of honor?

You, in the backseat of the cab, begin pulling out another brightly-colored dress as the cab peels off. Ellie scoffs as she watches, before heading back inside.

You make your return just in time for your maid of honor speech that follows cocktail hour. Ellie, still stanced near the bar, watches you smooth down your dress and take the mic, gushing about how much you love the bride, how you grew up together, how you were so proud to see the woman she had become…it was so perfect, so textbook. You were either extremely genuine in your praises, or you were an amazing actress.

Following the speech, Ellie eyes you as you once again rush outside, back to the cabbie who was waiting. As you run, however, something falls out of your bag…

Squatting, Ellie grabs it from the ground. A small, yet extensively used planner.

Bingo.

[thewriterthatghostedyou]

The Butterfly Effect

Chapter 1

Ok so it’s been a whileeeeeee since I’ve written anything lol but I’ve been reading more House of the Dragon fanfics and got ✨inspired✨ by @sepherinaspoppies and @evagreen-stories so if this vibes with you check their stuff out! This will be a dark fic though just a warning for y’all.

Guess this was longer than I intended but I wanted all of the introductions and start of the story in one part. Any feedback or comments are appreciated but never expected! I hope you enjoy!

Trigger warnings: none yet but there will be more next chapter

The heat in the kitchens was more unbearable than usual. The air in the room was typically stuffy due to the large stone ovens the Westerosi people used, but you had forced yourself to become accustomed to the heat. It was worth the effort; however, as having a steady job as a woman was near impossible in this day and age.

You craned your neck down to look at the dough you were rolling and silently thanked your mother for forcing you to help in her bakery as a child. You grew to enjoy baking as you grew up, and luckily had many recipes memorized. You needed money and there were worse ways to get it.

Sweat rolled down your temple as you remembered running through the streets of silk in your jogging outfit, eyes darting fearfully around watching the prostitutes lure in new customers as you took in a new and scary world.

“What is it this time?” The head chef, Naerys, walked over to you, eyeing your work curiously.

You gave the older woman a smile as finished rolling out the dough. “It’s called a croissant. If done right it should be flakey on the outside and airy on the inside.”

Naerys nodded thoughtfully and motioned for you to continue.

“Now we need to let it sit for a while before we store it in a cool place.” You tried to pull your hands from the sticky dough and squeezed any remaining part of it off your fingers as you spoke.

“Impressive work as always.” Naerys gave you a motherly smile as she continued. “We should be prepared for tomorrow.”

“Should be?” You arched a brow at that. “I have prepared everything as much as I possibly can unless you want me to throw it all into the oven now.” As much as you enjoyed your job baking tarts and cakes, your bones creaked from carrying in heavy sacks of flour and longed for sleep.

“Now don’t give me that look, love,” Naerys sighed. “You do good work, and meal wise we are well prepared for tomorrow; however, Ursa fell ill today. We need you to attend to the feast.”

You sighed as you knew where she was going with this. Different worlds or not bosses always have the same look when asking you to go above and beyond your job. And of course the maidservant that tended to the royal family fell ill on the day that Princess Rhaenyra returned to the Red Keep.

“It’s not forever,” Naerys rushed to get out. “Just until Ursa is well again. We cannot afford to lose you here.” You and your recipes more likely. You knew that the nobles enjoyed your modern pastries and more than often found yourself making extra batches to fit the demand. “And if you do this we’ll have Alannys bring in the new bags of flour.” Now that was certainly tempting and your hands were already aching from the massive load you brought in today yourself. What harm could bringing a few plates out do?

You fidgeted with the strings of your apron, white flour clinging to the fabric. “Fine.” You begrudgingly gave in. “I’m not sure what exactly to do though. I’ve never tended to the tables, much less a royal one at that.”

Naerys gave a small exhale of relief and smiled at you brightly. “We’ll have someone else carry in the platters, all you need to do is fill their goblets with wine. Most of the time they will hold it out for you to fill.” Naerys grabbed a nearby clean apron and handed it to you while motioning at your dirtied one. “You must change that though and rebraid your hair my dear, you’ll need to look clean and presentable for the royal family.”

“Of course.” You nodded and quickly untied the old apron. “Is there anything else that I need to know? What will happen if the pitcher runs out of wine?” The dirty apron hit the ground with a light thud as you reached for the clean one. It smelled slightly of soap and was sharply pressed. Naerys was not joking about you looking presentable it seemed.

“Ah yes, the eldest prince, Aegon, will no doubt drink heavily.” She hummed, watching as you finished refastening the apron and removed your cap. At first you thought the big white hat that the servants wore was goofy, but now you appreciated how it would hide any loose curls or hairs as you redid your braids. “Once it is empty you can hand it to a nearby footman and he will fetch you another. Now, let me get a look at you.” Naerys eyed you carefully and pulled your cap back over your head. “Good. Now make haste to the dining room love, you must be there before anyone else.”

She smiled at you one more time as she shoved the pitcher into your hands. “Oh!” She exclaimed softly. “I almost forgot. Do not look them in the eyes, you are not to be seen or heard and try not to eavesdrop as hard as that may be. You will do wonderful.” With that the older woman turned and headed towards another cook toiling over a fire, only pausing to pick up your discarded apron.

You nodded your head quickly, perhaps trying to convince yourself of that very thought as you hurried out of the kitchens. You weren’t sure if the events of Fire and Blood will have changed since you were thrown into this tumultuous world, and you prayed to anyone that would listen that it hadn’t. As gruesome as the Dance of the Dragons was, it was better that you knew what was going to happen before it did.

The Red Keep was much larger than the shows and book made it seem and you still found yourself getting lost in the more obscure winding hallways. It was lucky that the royal dining room was near the library. Although you weren’t allowed entry to the room you still enjoyed walking past it and smelling the old books whenever you could. It reminded you of another time, another world. One that you wished you could go back to.

It was odd how one small choice had led to the upheaval of your entire life.

You needed to snap out of those thoughts. You needed to focus on the task at hand. The past was in the past. You watched as the doors that lined the halls grew more and more ornate as you walked the long trek from the kitchens to the part of the castle the royal family inhabited.

The usually quiet halls covered with plush rugs and richly colored tapestries were bustling as other servants ran around, trying to perfect every last detail before the royal family came for dinner.

You picked up on the smells of honey roasted ham and other various dishes that made your mouth water. Although you worked in the kitchens day in and day out, you never had a chance to sample the food you served to others. Usually it didn’t bother you, you would go back to your small hut near the castle entrance where you shared a home with three other servants and made your own meals. But that didn’t stop your stomach from grumbling slightly as you entered the large dining room. When was the last time you had something to eat?

“Ah there you are!” A footman who had a striking resemblance to a weasel came rushing over to you as your eyes darted around the room. There were a few musicians in the back of the room, testing and strumming their instruments softly and chattering about something you could not overhear. In the middle of the room was a large table filled to the brim with food that you had a part in cooking.

“The king is about to arrive. You may stand over there.” The man gently grabbed your arms and led you across the room into a small barely noticeable alcove next to great velvety curtains that framed windows larger than you.

You only nodded dumbly as he rushed away. You didn’t know what to respond with and even if you did you didn’t know how to phrase it. The people in Westeros spoke some type of Old English that you had trouble mimicking and even back home when there were no odd phrases you had trouble conversing with others. Perhaps if you were lucky everyone would think you were dumb and wouldn’t notice you. You knew of Prince Aegon’s habits with other maids and already regretted agreeing to serve the family.

You were snapped back to reality as cheerful chattering grew closer and the Velaryon boys strode into the room with Princess Rhaenyra and her husband Prince Daemon in tow.

“The Red Keep certainly looks different.” You overheard Jace say to Lady Baela.

“It looks more like the Sept of Baelor but greener.” Baela scoffed, earning a small chuckle from her father.

“It is rather garish is it not?” He responded, pulling out a chair near the middle of the table for his wife before seating himself next to her.

The Princess smiled at the sentiment while Jace and Baela sat across from the pair. “It seems like Alicent has had a hand in the decorations.”

It was as if her words had summoned the queen herself, as Alicent entered with her arm intertwined with the King’s keeping him steady as he struggled to shuffle over to his chair.

If this was following the show this would be his last night alive. You felt the hairs on your arms raise as he fell into his seat harshly but smiled at his daughter with a content expression.

“How good it is to see your face my dear.” He huffed out, ignoring his other children seating themselves on his other side. You noticed in particular as the One-eyed Prince started drinking as soon as he sat down.

Perhaps Aegon wouldn’t be the drunkest tonight after all. You walked on the edges of the room trying to remain unseen as the younger Prince raised his cup for more. You slowly obliged his silent request, focusing more on trying not to over fill the cup than the conversation at hand.

With that done, you stepped back silently and noticed that his brother had also finished. If the dinner had just started and the Princes kept up this pace it’d be a long meal.

The minutes passed slowly as you occasionally refilled cups, more on the green side than the blacks.

Everything seemed to have been going well. Both Rhaenyra and Alicent were talking and laughing with the king before he had to be taken to his chambers to rest. And even you smiled as Jace offered to dance with his aunt. Helaena always was your favorite out of the bunch. And she looked happy as the two of them spun around, something she must not have felt often being married to Aegon.

You flinched as you heard someone clearing their throat and remembered why you were there. Your smile fell quickly as your eyes met the younger Prince’s sneer.

“Oh. Sorry.” You whispered out softly, rushing over to his side. Your hands shook slightly as you watched the red wine pour into his cup. Unlike the other times you attended to the Prince, this time you felt his sharp gaze on you as you worked. Perhaps he just thought you were lazy. You didn’t dare look up though. While the older brother was more often than not blackout drunk, the younger prince was known for his short temper that seemed to be set off at anything and everything. You remembered watching as other maids cried from his stern words and begged for reassignment.

“At least someone is enjoying themselves tonight.” He scoffed, talking quietly so only you could hear. “I’m sure for someone of your…” He paused as his eyes roved your body. “…station, that this is quite the spectacle. You small folk are all so easily entertained.”

You felt your face light on fire at his smug smile. Fucking elitist prick. His words made you seethe for some reason. It wasn’t like you haven’t been called worse, working in the food service industry had given you thick skin, but his remark was the reason you preferred to remain in the kitchens unseen. The nobles were all the same, ungrateful and spoiled.

You were about to open your mouth, perhaps for a clap back that would have cost you your head, when someone did you the favor of bringing out a roasted pig and setting it in front of the one-eyed Prince.

You huffed out a laugh as his cheek twitched at the sight which earned you another searing glare.

“Perhaps you are right. Enjoy the pig, my prince, as I know it reminds you of your first dragon. I cooked it myself.” You tried to keep your voice down but apparently Lucerys Velaryon had overheard and released a small laugh.

Perhaps that is what set off Aemond as he stood up quickly and slammed his hand onto the table. You watched as his face morphed from his twisted sneer to something calmer. More collected.

“Final tribute.” He said with a smile as he raised his cup.

You took this moment to step back as he paused. “To the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke, and Joffrey.”

Alicent nervously began picking at her nails as her son spoke and the two Velaryon boys eyed Aemond cautiously. “Each of them handsome, wise…” He paused again and seemed to be debating something that he decided to ignore. “Strong.”

“Aemond.” Alicent hissed, eyes nervously darting across the room.

“Come let us drain our cups to these three,” He gave a shit eating grin to Jace as Aegon waved his cup in the air laughing. “Strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again.” Jace snapped, stomping towards his uncle.

“Why? ‘‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourselves strong?” As Jace got closer you watched as he punched Aemond across the face which only caused the One-eyed Prince to laugh as he kept hold of his wine. At the same time you heard Aegon slam Lucerys’ head into the table as he tried to get up.

“Jace!” Rhaenyra shouted, standing up quickly. “That’s enough!”

With a scoff, Aemond shoved Jace away from him and swirled his drink with a bored expression. He pretended not to see the two guards holding back the Velaryons. “It seems I’m in need of more wine.” He gave you a cold smile as he sauntered over.

“Perhaps you’ve had enough.” Alicent said, rushing over to her younger son. “You may leave.” She waved you away dismissively and for the first time that night you had not been happier until Aemond grabbed your arm harshly.

“Nonsense we’ve barely started eating mother.” He shoved his cup towards you again and waved it expectantly. “Well?”

You gave a questioning look to the queen who instead of answering turned her son towards her and waved you away. “Why would you say such a thing before these people?”

You didn’t wait to hear anything else, and instead scurried towards the doors as quickly as you could. You knew you shouldn’t look back at the train wreck behind you but part of you couldn’t help it.

As you closed the heavy door behind you, you noticed one violet eye piercing into you, instead of listening to his mother. It was then that you knew that the Prince would not forget your words.

[honeymoonavsstuff]

part 2 of ‘How long have you been standing there?’ (part 1)

Summary: reader accidentally admitted her feelings for JJ infront of him, so they need to figure this out.

Pairing: JJx reader

Warnings: swearing, substances using and mean flirting.

A/n: so happy someone asked for part 2. again sorry for mh english and please send requests<3

When JJ texted you the words ‘i’m here’ you felt like you were going to throw up.

The butterflies in your stomach never left you alone all evening, even when you were almost crying when you couldn’t decide what to wear. Are jeans appropriate to make a fool of yourself on a date with the boy you swore you hated just an hour before?

You weren’t even sure if that was a date or just a way to torture yourself.

On the way between your house’s door and the twinkie it was as if you felt your feet sink into the ground. Meanwhile the blond was sitting at the wheel, with his gaze fixed on you. You were always so confident in yourself, why was it so difficult right now? Was it that your feelings had never been exposed for anyone before? No, you had to compose yourself.

So you opened the car door, his eyes still burning on your skin, and greeted him with a flebile ‘Hi’.

He smiled so sweetly and… there was the nausea again.

“You look pretty.”

“Oh,” that took you by surprise, “well thank you.”

“Aren’t you supposed to tell me that I look nice?” he teased with a smirk while turning the key in the ignition.

“But you don’t,” he did. JJ rolled his eyes playfully and started driving.

The only noises on that brief trip were the twinkie’s engine clearly struggling and the foot that you were nervously patting on the floor

“You nervous?” the boy quickly looked at you while the lights of the streets continued to illuminate his features.

“No-” liar, “you wish.” You heard him scoffing.

Another second of silence.

“Where are we going anyway?” you asked, playing with one of your rings to avoid looking at the cause of all your stresses.

“Don’t know, don’t care.”

“If you are going to kill me just tell me…”

JJ’s laugh filled up the awkward air and it was like a boulder had been taken off of your chest. You allowed yourself to smile.

“Nah, I don’t kill cute girls.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes.

“Shut up.”

He parked near a small pier where you could hear the small waves crushing on the rocks. JJ didn’t wait a second to take out of his pockets his most prized possessions and to get to work.

“Are you rolling a joint, right now?”

He turned your way, the filter in his mouth as he spoke.

“For you, to relax.”

“Not gonna work,” you felt like your heart could explode.

JJ lit up his joint and took a long hit. He looked so hot while he smoked.

“Just take it, it’ll make you feel better,” he offered you the smoke with his right hand.

“Nah huh” you tried to stop him, facing the other way.

“Oh come onnnn” he insisted, until you had to take his hand away with yours. Unfortunately the joint was already placed in your mouth.

You growled and took the hit, using your free hand.

“See? You’re chilling out already.”

“You’re exhausting, JJ” you shoot exasperated, “the most annoying person I’ve ever known.”

“That’s why you love me so much” he grinned in a cheesy way.

You decided to ignore the goosebumps those words provoked, you just wanted to punch him. Or kiss him? No, you definitely needed to hurt him.

“So you wanted to talk, so talk JJ.”

“I thought you were the one who wanted to figure out what this is” his body became dangerously closer. Did he move or did you move?

“What is what?”

“Uhm,” he used the index finger to indicate both of you,”this thing, you and me.”

“Oh no,” you shook your head in an exaggerated way.

“There is no ‘you and me’, you moron. You don’t even like me that way-I don’t even like you.”

“Bullshit,” he scoffed.

“I’m dead serious, you make me sick in my stomach, you-“ he was laughing. Then it hit you.

You traveled your gaze to see your fingers intertwined with his from your previous messy interaction.

You gulped, but your throat was sore.

“The fact that I’m still holding your hand doesn’t change anything I just said.”

“Oh please,” he started rubbing your palm with his thumb, “we would make a perfect couple.” You hated him so much you nearly melted at his touch.

“First of all stop doing that and second of all we will never-“ you were cut off. You didn’t realize that the blonde’s face was so close and now he was kissing you.

All the anxiety, the embarrassment and bad feelings just went away in that simple contact.

“What did you do that for?” JJ’s lips weren’t on yours anymore, but you wanted them to be.

“You talk too much.” You couldn’t stop looking at his mouth slightly parted, some of your lipstick colored his lower lip and that was the sexiest thing you ever witnessed.

“Do it again” you didn’t even believe yourself, but JJ did. So his lips were on yours again, at first just for a quick peck, but then you finally felt his tongue and his arms around your waist.

He was a good kisser, so good that you felt him everywhere. He tasted like weed and licorice. You noticed he wore cologne, just for you, and couldn’t contain a smile.

He sighed too and gently took your hands to position them right where he wanted them to be, on the back of his neck and in his hair. You liked touching him, it was new, exciting and incredibly soft. You wanted more.

You took advantage of your hands placement to bring him even closer to you, holding him so tight.

“If you squeeze me more than this I could suffocate” his whispers were hot on your lips. You were in heaven.

“Okay,” another sweet, sweet kiss,”I don’t care.”

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐱 𝐢𝐭 [𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail Pairings: yan!Blade x Fem!reader Warnings: NSFW, modern AU, biker!Blade, yandere, dub-con, loss of virginity, oral sex, rough sex, light suffocation.

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq 

I think this image is perfect for Blade. He's perfect as a yandere and the bike makes him even hotter, don't u think so? (≧◡≦) ♡

Every evening, as you trudged wearily from your office to your house, you were accompanied by the loud rumble of a motorcycle, dispelling the silence of deserted streets. You didn't know the man who always seems to be intentionally nearby when you're lazily walking along the sadly familiar alleys, but you saw him a couple of times, admiring his bike when he stopped near your office building during your lunch break.

A tall, perfectly built, gloomy-looking man leaned impressively against the seat of a motorcycle, clutching a smoking cigarette between his long index and middle fingers, framed by the soft leather of a black glove. His long blue-black curls with burgundy tips couldn't help but delight you no less than his fiery eyes fixed on the phone in his other hand. He looks so relaxed and indifferent, as if immersed in his own world and not noticing anything that is happening around him.

You are so mesmerized by how his muscular chest slowly rises in time with his measured breathing, how his long bangs flutter in the wind, how his long eyelashes lightly touch his cheeks when he blinks, and how the scarlet earring makes a vaguely quiet tinkling sound, swaying from the air… And, damn, how is it not hot for him to stand in the sun when, no matter how hard you try, your gaze stubbornly could not find a single bare part of his body? A black leather jacket suits this man so well, emphasizing the slight curve of his waist and broad shoulders, and black jeans hug the seductive muscles of his calves and muscular thighs.

— Wanna go for a ride?

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a velvety low voice, just to match the appearance of this man. Just as sexy and alluring, but dangerous and dark, as well as the aura emanating from him.

— No, no, not at all!.. Mmm, I'm looking, but I'm not touching.

— Hm. It's not the first time I've caught you looking at my bike. You have nothing to worry about, I'm a good driver, — the man throws a cigarette on the asphalt and quickly crushes it with his foot, not taking his eyes off you.

What surprised you was the way he addressed you so familiar, even though you don't even know each other… But maybe that was the impetus for you to desire this man and want to know more about him.

You are always so careful, even a little cowardly, but then why are you now pressing your chest against someone else's back, your arms are wrapped around his waist, and you shamelessly inhale the fragrance coming from a stranger? He smells of tobacco and expensive cologne, so alluring that you can't help but keep your nose buried in his hair longer in the hope that he won't notice.

You hear the roar of the engine, feel the muscles of his back tense up when he lifts his leg off the ground and the motorcycle starts to go. Slowly at first, while he carefully drives around cars standing in traffic. But then it picks up incredible speed when you go out on a deserted straight. You tremble, clinging to the man's body like a lifeline, and close your eyes, frightened by how the bushes and signs on both sides of the road blur before your eyes. A strong wind meets the bare skin of your arms and legs. It wasn't the best idea to agree to this adventure when you were wearing your work blouse and skirt, but the offer was too tempting to refuse. No matter how much fear tormented you, adrenaline was raging in your blood. You have given up any dangers, any adventures for so long, preferring a measured quiet life to the extreme, that this trip has become for you like a breath of fresh air, the need for which you did not even know.

The next time you were already less afraid, willingly jumping on his bike the next day, and the next after that, and throughout the week. Trips with him have become long-awaited for you after hard working days, and on weekends, for the first time in your life, you couldn't wait for Monday to meet this man again. You didn't know how he ended up near your office, what he was doing there, whether he worked with you in the same company and what the hell his name was. But it wasn't so important to you, because he just made you a little happier.

On your first day off, you looked disappointed in the refrigerator, catching yourself thinking that it looks like you should still go out to the store. The last meal was over at lunch, but you feel your stomach cramping with hunger, realizing that it does not tolerate until tomorrow. You lazily grab your bag, jump into your sneakers and look sadly at the darkness outside the window. You don't like going out in the evenings, and you've almost come to an agreement with yourself that you should just order food for dinner, but this would only postpone the solution to the problem for tomorrow.

Your legs barely carry you to the nearest grocery store, and you freeze when the familiar sound of a humming motor cuts into your ears. Stunned eyes meet with fiery irises glowing in the dark, a man leaning against his bike near the entrance to the store, still smoking a cigarette in his hand. You blink a few times, not believing your eyes. Did you fall asleep on your couch and it's all just a dream? Otherwise, how else to explain the fact that the same man somehow inexplicably ended up here, now, just when you decided to finally get out of your hole? You make forays anywhere other than work so rarely, usually going to the store on the way back from the office, but then why did all the stars come together right now, and you met someone you didn't even suspect that you would be so glad to see?

You pull yourself together, worried that your stunned frozen figure will only scare off an already strange man. Have you ever worried about what he thinks of you at all? Such a frivolous, without a second thought, who agreed to go somewhere with an unknown man at the very moment when you just started talking for the first time. He must think you're a desperate single woman, but what's wrong with him?

✧ ✧ ✧ You walk unsteadily towards him, meekly waving your palm. As always, a stranger puts out a cigarette, turning all his attention to you.

— Are you stalking me? — you giggle nervously, immediately realizing how bad your joke was, but at the same time fearing that he will answer in the affirmative.

— Maybe, — his voice sounds, as always, cold and dispassionate, making you doubt whether he answered with a joke for a joke or whether you should start to be afraid of him.

Seeing your confusion, the man barely grins before placing his elbow on the seat of the motorcycle.

— Aren't you going in?

You shudder, thinking about his question for a second.

— Oh, you mean the store! Hehe, right, yeah… I'm going to, — you awkwardly press your palm to your neck, dulling your gaze. — Then I think I'll should go.

The man just mumbles softly, following you with his eyes as you walk away behind the doors of a small grocery store. While you're walking around between the counters, you can't put your thoughts together, you can't even concentrate on what you came here for. Will he still be outside when you come out? No, it's silly to hope for that. You don't think he's really here because of you. It's all just innocent jokes, and he has no reason to pursue a boring person like you. What can you really give this man, besides your dull presence? What could he have clung to to show interest in you? Although, if you think about it, for some reason he always seems to be waiting for you in the office parking lot. Maybe he's a maniac and tried to find out where you live in this way? If so, it's good that you always asked him to drop you off on neutral territory and waited for the moment when he left to walk to his house. But what if he really likes you? From these thoughts, your cheeks are covered with pink powder of embarrassment, forcing people passing by to look back puzzled at the smiling woman at the counter with pads, embarrassingly covering her face with her palms.

It took about twenty minutes while you gathered your thoughts and threw everything you needed into the basket to survive this weekend. At the checkout, you were met by a bored and tired look of a woman over forty, who casually dumped your groceries into a bag before you hurriedly followed to the exit. Your heart was pounding wildly in your chest when you cautiously looked into the place where the stranger's bike used to stand in the hope of seeing him there again. How stupid of you to hope for such things. You haven't even been a student for a long time to tremble from just reproducing his image in your fantasies. This man really awakened some inexplicable interest in you, which was fueled by nothing but short conversations and silent trips. You wanted so much to know something about him, but you never had the courage to ask him at least one personal question.

You almost jump for joy, but you stifle the glee that tears your chest when you see that he is still here. Maybe he was really waiting for you? You don't see any other reason why a man can stand outside a grocery store for about half an hour at such a late hour.

— You're still here! Have you been waiting for me? — you're letting out a nervous laugh again. It's a pity, you should definitely work on your self-control.

— I thought you could use some help, — the man looked down at the grocery bag in your hand. Ah, well, what a gentleman he is.

— Oh, I won't refuse!

The stranger straightened up and walked towards you, taking the package from your hand. For a second, you could feel the touch of his leather glove on your palm. I wonder how the touch of his bare hand would feel?

— So you live nearby, I suppose?

— Mm… yeah, it will only take ten minutes from here.

— Do you want to go for a ride or…? — I don't rlly think the eggs in the bag will survive this trip, — you chuckle softly, rubbing your neck with your palm again. Of course you're nervous. You don't even know his name, and he'll already know where you live. Exactly…

✧ ✧ ✧

You walked slowly along the sidewalks at night in complete silence while you tried to summon all the courage you had in you to ask a question that you had long wanted to hear the answer to.

— L-listen… — you hesitate, fiddling with the store receipt in your hands. — I've been wanting to know your name for a long time...

Did you finally dare to ask? Although, this is quite a reasonable question considering that it's not the first time you've met and it would be strange if you still didn't know his name. Even at the moment, it's strange, and you don't see any good reasons for him to hide this information from you. At least you calm yourself with these thoughts.

— I'm surprised you decided to ask about it just now.

You stop, eyes wide in surprise. After a couple of steps forward, the man notices that you are not there and turns around at your frozen figure.

— What is it?

— What does that mean? You could have introduced yourself if it wasn't a problem! — you cross your arms over your chest in displeasure.

— Mm… yeah, you're right, — for a second the man thoughtfully tilts his head sideways, looking at your irritated face, before coming closer. His tall figure casts a shadow on you from the night lamp standing on the left side of the sidewalk. — I'm Blade.

— Pff! You see, it wasn't difficult at all, — you try to hide the blush on your cheeks, turning away in mock irritation, but then you raise your head again, meeting his fiery eyes. — Y/N… You didn't ask for my name either.

— I suppose you no longer have any reason to fear that I'll find out where you live?

You shudder when you hear him literally voicing the thoughts that were floating in your head just a few minutes ago.

— Why are you…! Oh, okay. Just let's go already.

You walk around the standing figure of a man you now seem to know, in order to continue walking slowly towards your house.

Blade, then?..

✧ ✧ ✧

It seemed that the silence accompanying you in the last minutes of the journey to the door of your house weighed on you even more than before. You were so eager to learn something about Blade that when you were finally given a piece of information, you simply didn't know what to do with it. Does that mean you can ask anything else? Or maybe you should invite him to come over and have dinner together in gratitude for his help? Oh, you're not sure that your house is in the best condition for receiving guests right now… But when else will you have such an opportunity to be alone with him for a longer time and in an environment in which the roar of his motorcycle engine will not interfere with your conversation?

You turn around on small heels when you approach your door. Blade stands behind you and silently holds out the package. You shift from one foot to the other, not daring to take it out of the man's hand, it seems that you are going to say something, but you clearly have problems with it again.

— What's wrong now? Or did you just want to take a walk, and I can keep this as payment?

You snort, changing your mood again, like a switch.

— Very funny!! I just… I was wondering, what are you going to do after I leave? If you're free, then maybe you won't mind… No, I'm not insisting, but…

— Are you inviting me in?

— Yes, I just… What?! — you're starting to look like a scared kitten again, looking up at Blade in surprise. — God, it's starting to scare me how you literally read my mind.

— It wasn't hard to guess, — Blade shrugs.

— Hmm, well, then, I take it you don't mind?

— I think there is a window in my schedule at twelve o'clock at night. You roll your eyes, but then you laugh, turning away from Blade to open the door.

✧ ✧ ✧

Awkward.

This is the only word that was spinning on your tongue when you were standing in the kitchen and hurriedly trying to cook dinner for a man who was relaxing on your sofa in the living room. You gave him brief glances that you hope he didn't notice. Although, given the fact that he already seems to be reading you like an unfolded book, he may guess that you are spying on him like a schoolgirl in love.

After an hour of your anxious attempts not to burn the food, you finally finish and solemnly bring two plates of food into the living room. You've never been able to boast of any special skills in cooking, so you decided not to take any chances and cook what you do best. You would like to impress him, and although this is impossible, you should at least do the minimum and not embarrass yourself in front of this man.

— Ta-dam! I don't pretend to be a chef, but it should be edible and cover my debt to you for your help, — you put a plate in front of Blade with an improvised omelet decorated with neat slices of tomatoes and a couple of basil leaves for aesthetics.

— Omelet? Is it morning now?

— Hey, I'm making a really delicious omelet! It doesn't matter what time it is, delicious food is delicious food, so eat and don't be picky.

You put your fists on your sides and watch carefully as Blade incredulously picks up a fork and breaks off a piece of an air omelet. Only after the piece has sunk into his mouth and Blade's face has relaxed, seeming to realize that his stomach is not in danger, you sit down next to him, starting to eat your portion.

— Is it delicious.

— Hm. It's edible.

— God, you could have chosen a nicer word, — you sigh, stabbing another piece on the fork before smiling. — I'm glad you like it.

— So you invite everyone to your place and treat them with an omelet who will lend you a helping hand?

— Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Of course not.

— Hmm, then what did I do to deserve such an honor? — Blade pushes his empty plate away and leans back on the sofa, watching you chew slowly, seemingly considering his answer.

— Mm… I don't know. Maybe I just feel like I can trust you.

— Is that so?

— Oh, what do you want me to say? I just did it because I wanted to.

— I think there are other reasons for that.

The fork slips out of your hand, clattering to the floor when you catch Blade's face in your peripheral vision, too close to yours. So much so that you can feel his breath and the familiar pleasant aroma coming from him, mixed with tobacco notes.

— W—what are you doing?

— You're blushing, Y/N, — you feel the touch of a cold leather glove on your cheek. In the dimness of the room, lit only by a couple of nightlights, Blade's face seems simply unearthly. So handsome, such perfect features, such mesmerizing eyes that you can't tear yourself away from. You flinch when Blade snatches the plate out of your hand, putting it on the coffee table where you are sitting. — Did you know that your liking for me is too obvious?

— I—I don't know what you're talking about!

— Really? Then why are you letting me touch you now?

Damn.

Indeed, your body treacherously succumbs to his touch, and all your thoughts are clogged only with the question of what his lips taste like? On the other hand, there's nothing abnormal about it. You're an adult woman and it's quite normal to show feelings towards someone, especially since it doesn't look like Blade doesn't reciprocate them. Or does he need you just to have fun? No… He doesn't look like that kind of person.

— And if so? What then? — you swallow nervously, continuing to maintain eye contact with Blade.

— Then I don't see a single reason why I couldn't do it.

And everything around you seems to acquire bright colors that you have never noticed before. Your heart is pounding in chest, and your stomach is cramping with pleasant spasms when Blade's lips are pressed against yours. Even better than you imagined. Soft, slightly moist, when you bite into each other's lips over and over again, the taste is as pleasant as his smell, remotely leaving the taste of cigarettes on your tongue. His big gloved hands are walking around the curves of your body, and you can't resist it. You don't want him to stop.

You moan contentedly in the kiss, and Blade swallows any sounds that come out of your throat, pressing more and more insistently into your lips and thrusting his tongue into your mouth, allowing him to wriggle around yours. Oh, there's practically nothing to compare you to, but this kiss is the best thing that's ever happened to you. Passion and desire oozes from every movement of his lips, his touch burns your skin even through your clothes. You inevitably fall onto the sofa cushion when Blade presses down on you with the weight of his body. You feel his hands leave you for a moment, and the first piece of clothing that ends up on the floor of your house — gloves — flies off from his palms. His long fingers skillfully straighten the buttons of your shirt, and finally, you can feel the warmth of his skin on your chest when he squeezes your elastic flesh with his bare palms, without taking his eyes off your lips for a second.

It's all so much like a dream, and if it is, then you don't want to wake up anymore. Let at least today, at least now you will feel welcome in the arms of a man who has been making your heart flutter for a long time, while your tongues waltz with each other, not wanting to break away from each other. So sweet, so nice. Have kisses always been so pleasant? Then you should have lived your life differently, or were you just taking care of yourself so that your first real, such an amazing kiss happened with him?

You choke, grabbing Blade's leather jacket, automatically pulling it off his broad shoulders and sending it to the floor after his gloves. And at that moment, Blade pulls away from the kiss, hovering over you and taking a breath for just a couple of moments. His fingers move to the hem of his T-shirt, hastily pulling it over his head and throwing it somewhere in the corner of the living room. Even in the semi-darkness, you can admire how beautifully his long hair is tousled, how his eyes are clouded with desire and every bulge on his embossed abs. You can't resist touching his firm chest with your fingertips, tracing lines down his torso to the bottom of his stomach, where your hands stop.

You hesitate, suddenly feeling a strong excitement. You have never seen even what you see now before, and a certain fear that you can now expose his body even more has settled in your chest, causing uncontrollable anxiety.

Blade looms over you, still calmly and intently looking into your eyes when you blush and try to look away, hastily removing your hands from his body.

— I'm sorry, I'm just… — you swallow a lump in your throat, returning to your voice a tiny fraction of the former, already meager, confidence. — I'm a virgin! God… I don't believe I'm saying this.

— Mm, seriously? — Blade's big palms are returning to your body again. His long fingers slide along the curve of your neck, sinking lower and lower, bypassing the bulge of your chest and tense stomach, before reaching the zipper of your jeans. — Then I have to fix it.

You almost squeal from the way his warm fingers touch the bottom of your stomach when he undoes the button in one movement, then just as quickly to deal with the zipper. You squirm in place as you watch Blade pull down your jeans over your legs. It's all so awkward and so embarrassing when you notice how his gaze falls on your underwear, which seems to be already soaked to the skin after your kissing session.

Blade makes a brief eye contact with you, as if for the sake of decency, checking whether you agree to him pulling off your panties, but, to tell the truth, he didn't care about your permission. Thoughts of you have filled his head for too long. What is happening now is not an accident, but the result of strict adherence to the plan that Blade adhered to. The fact that now you are so wet, flushed and ready for everything with him is the fruit of his titanic patience. He wanted to take you even at the first meeting, even at the moment when your arms wrapped around his waist, even when your breasts pressed against his back. And even earlier, when he watched for months how boring your life was. Work, home, and then work again. Womans at your age prefer pleasure and entertainment to such a gray lifestyle, so why aren't you like that? He had many women who loved luxury, money and sex — all that he could offer them, but they bored him even in those moments when they opened their mouths. Not a single honest word ever escaped from their lips, only lies, flattery and lust, which oozed out of their every pore just to get what they wanted. But you're not like that. You're a boring, ordinary person. People like you are called gray mice, nothing stands out from the crowd. But that's why you caught his eye. Blade noticed that, despite the fact that you are quite antisocial, you are always kind to others, you are always honest and fair, incorruptible and frank in everything you say or do. The sincere interest with which you studied his motorcycle or the way you stole glances at him himself could not but touch Blade. A lump of purity and innocence that he should tarnish in order to make his own.

And now you are just as innocently and sincerely moaning, not pretending for a moment, but only drowning in the pleasant sensations that his palms give you, sliding along the inside of your thighs, getting closer and closer to your underwear. You're shy, you turn away, but then you turn your gaze back to him when the thin fabric of your panties slowly slides down your thighs to your ankles to completely leave your body. Blade grabs your leg under the knee, throwing it over his shoulder, and bends down to leave a wet, long kiss on your thigh while his eyes seem to burn holes in yours. In your pure and innocent eyes, on which tears of happiness mixed with embarrassment are about to roll, which you do not hide in any way, presenting yourself to Blade as you really are. You're not fake, you're real.

He closes his eyes, sinking lower, and presses his lips to the soft flesh of your crotch. You shiver and squirm, not saying a word, just watching Blade through half-closed eyelids, trying to restrain your moans.

— I'm curious, — Blade murmurs into your heated skin. — Did you touch yourself when you thought about me?

— Wh-what? — his question puts you in a dead end and makes you blush even more. Blade already knows the answer, but will you be honest or will you lie to him? — I… uh, yeah.

God, where did you come from? Perfection.

Blade spreads your legs even wider without delay, running his tongue over your wet folds until he reaches the clitoris, circling around it with the tip. You cover your lips with the back of your hand, unsuccessfully muffling the moan escaping from your chest. And Blade just enjoys your taste. The sweetness tickling his tongue like nectar, the only one in the whole world that can quench his thirst. He is insatiable, persistently lapping up the moisture of your arousal. Next time, you shouldn't bother cooking dinner, because that's enough for him.

You make such sweet sounds — music to Blade's ears. And how did he live without it before?

You've never experienced anything like this in your life. It seems so dirty and so embarrassing, but his tongue wriggles so pleasantly between your folds, casually touching your throbbing clitoris. It's all so new and unusual, and so… Excitingly. You just can't believe that the man you're in love with is now so greedily giving you pleasure. It all makes you feel so special, so loved, even though you have no idea who he is and how many women he had before you, it was all so unimportant. He's with you tonight, he chose you—and that's all that matters.

Your legs shudder when you feel Blade's finger slowly sinking into your insides without any warning. It feels completely different than when you did it yourself. You've always masturbated with such caution, fearing to feel pain, but Blade does it so persistently and consciously, as if he's done it thousands of times. You would like to be upset about this thought, but right now your head is too full of thoughts about how damn nice it is to feel him inside. You just let go of any extraneous thoughts, plunging into these delightful sensations.

— Oh, wait, Blade! — you cry out when you feel your walls stretch when his first finger joins the second. It's slightly painful, but the prickly feeling suppresses the indescribable pleasure when Blade completely ignores all your alarmed sounds and words, adamantly pursuing the intention to bring you to orgasm.

But it was enough for you how his fingers bent inside, pressing on some particularly sensitive point, forcing your back to arch and your lower abdomen to twist from a delightful feeling, different from how you brought yourself to a climax on your own. Much brighter waves of pleasure spread through your muscles while you writhe in the grip of the Blade, which does not slow down at all, prolonging this sweet feeling.

You open your eyes lazily when you feel Blade pulling away. You are greeted by an obscene picture of how he greedily licks his lips, glistening from the mixture of his saliva with your moisture.

— Now you understand what you've been giving up all your life, huh? — Blade lifts up, hovering over you. His lips are almost touching yours as he continues to speak. — But you've been saving yourself for me like a good girl.

From his words, a pleasant heat spread again in the bottom of your stomach. The tips of his long hair tickle your face as he lifts himself up to straighten the fly of his trousers. You feel ashamed again at the thought that you could have done it yourself. For some unknown reason, you are afraid to look down again, but you take a deep breath before coming face to face with what was bothering you so much a moment ago. All your anxiety literally recedes into the background, giving way to real fear when a massive, thick and long cock appears before your eyes, menacingly directed by Blade's palm towards your crotch. Swollen veins stretch along its base, and the head glistens from the pre-ejaculate oozing from the urethra.

— Stop! Blade! — you're backing away, unsuccessfully trying to bring your legs together. Blade's free palm lands on the inside of your thigh, stopping you.

— Hm? What happened?

— I can't! That is all… It's too big… — you mumble to yourself, looking away in embarrassment. Your hands reach for the edges of your shirt in a vain attempt to hide at least your breasts from Blade's eyes, but you are immediately stopped by the way Blade forcefully spreads your legs again, settling between them and grabbing your wrists, pulling you back. You plop down on the couch again, crying out in fright as Blade fixes your hands above your head with one palm, while the other returns to his cock again.

— You can. It's okay, it's what you wanted, isn't it? — the tip of his cock slides pleasantly between your folds. — Look how wet you are. I don't think you would have started flowing like that if you didn't want me. Then what's the problem?

— I-I… it's going to hurt me…

Blade freezes for a second before moving closer to your lips again, leaving a short, as if pretending to soothe kiss on them.

— It won't, I promise, — he whispers into your lips, and you swallow hard, sobbing softly from the tears that have welled up in your eyes. For a moment, you even forgot that he had just forced you to obey him by buying into a promise carelessly thrown in your face. You nod uncertainly. — Good girl.

It seemed like every muscle in your body tensed up when you felt the head of his heavy cock travel down from your clitoris before menacingly resting against your entrance. Perhaps it seemed to you because of the poor lighting of the room, but you are ready to swear that Blade's face was distorted in a sinister grin before his cock began to insistently make its way into your insides, stretching the tight walls that resist.

It hurts. It really hurts. Did he lie?

—B-Blade! It hurts me, wait! — you squirm in his grip, trying to free your wrists, but his palm squeezes them tighter, not allowing you to move under the weight of his body.

But he doesn't listen, continuing to persistently move further and further until his cock completely fills your insides. You scream and whine, squeezing your eyes shut when salty tears inevitably begin to roll down your cheeks. Only when the Blade reaches the limit in your vagina, he stops, exhaling heavily into your lips.

— See how perfectly you accept me, — his husky velvet voice whispers, settling an unpleasant echo in your head.

You don't understand what's going on. Where did the man with whom you kissed so sweetly just recently on this very sofa go?

Wait a minute…

You will suddenly be pierced by the disgusting realization that he was not a bit gentle with you from the very beginning. Everything he did was just his own desire. He never asked for permission, literally forcibly persuading you to what he needs. Is this really the person you fell in love with?

The sharp pain begins to gradually subside until exactly the moment when Blade's hips are pushed back to crash into your ass with force. And then again. And again. And again. His thrusts are deep and persistent, gradually gaining momentum. You do not lose hope of at least freeing your hands, twitching them in Blade's grip, but unsuccessfully, as before. His fingers wrapped around your wrists with incredible strength, seemingly instantly leaving bruises on your skin. You continue to whimper and sob, rocking on the sofa in time with his ruthless movements. Gradually, the pain mixes with a treacherous feeling of pleasure, which begins to intercept dominance, causing this pleasant heat in the bottom of your stomach. No matter how rude Blade was, he is still a divinely handsome man who chose you for tonight, and this thought began to repeat itself in your mind over and over again, like a mantra calling you to calm and relax. You should give yourself up to pleasant sensations, discarding all prejudices, because tears and attempts to resist now will not give you anything, except that your body will be covered with even bigger bruises from the way his thrusts become more and more lashing as you try to escape more and more desperately.

What a pity that you don't know that he didn't choose you for this night. You belong to him from now until you take your last breath.

Gradually, your sobs are replaced by stifled moans, and your lips open when you meet the gaze of Blade looming over you. His scarlet earring swings in a shock of tousled pitch-black hair, bangs frame his face, and fiery eyes do not tear away from yours, hypnotizing you with lust and obsession burning in them.

— Haha, does it hurt now? — Blade's free hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head back so he can get a better look at your tear-stained, flushed face. — You should see your face now. I resisted so much that now I give up and enjoy it like a whore.

For some reason, his insult only brought you even closer to the edge. When did you manage to become so depraved that dirty things like this began to excite you? You wanted to respond with something, to do at least something to refute his words, but the way his cock began to move even more insistently and quickly, stretching your insides and touching all the most sensitive places, literally knocked down any thought that surfaced in your mind. All you were capable of was making vulgar sweet sounds, inciting Blade to move even more vigorously until your throat began to tear from screaming.

His heavy palm moves from your jaw to your throat, pressing hard on your fragile neck. The movements of Blade's hips became so careless and the rhythm had long been lost while he was blindly chasing his own pleasure, neglecting any dissatisfaction that might surface on your face. But even that didn't happen. Because you're too perfect for him, accepting him for who he is and really enjoying the way he's using your body right now. You are sincere even in this, unable to hide how much you like how he roughly fucks you, forcing you to suffocate from the force of the pressure of his hand on your throat.

He can't hold back the grim grin in which his lips stretch when Blade notices how your eyes roll up and your back desperately arches towards him while a wave of the second orgasm rolls over your body that night. He absolutely doesn't care how sensitive you will be after that, he doesn't care that he can cause you discomfort or hurt, he just continues to ruthlessly bump into you with his hips until his cock begins to throb and swell inside your uncontrollably spasming walls from excessive stimulation.

— You want me to cum inside you, huh? — Blade coos, tilting his head to the side and watching the expression of helplessness and loss painted on your face as you open and close your mouth in a futile attempt to answer his question. In fact, you didn't even fully understand what he was asking, too lost in the fog of pleasure that overwhelmed your body and mind. — Hm. It's your first time, I have to be polite, don't I? — you groan hoarsely, looking at him through heavy eyelids and eyelashes wet with tears. — I know, I know that you want this, but you and I have our whole life ahead of us. I promise that I will fill you more than you can fit, but next time, and today… Let me be a gentleman, okay?

Even Blade himself was amused by his own words. He has never been a gentleman, never thought about how others feel, always getting only what he needs from life, ready to step over even corpses if necessary. But today, with you… Perhaps he really got a little emotional.

After a few careless thrusts and restrained quiet moans, his cock abruptly burst out of your insides. His palm released your throat, allowing you to finally take such a welcome breath of air, moving onto his cock, making several hasty strokes before you felt an unfamiliar hot sticky liquid flood your stomach. You were trying to catch your breath, still not daring to open your eyes, but you could hear Blade breathing heavily, now releasing your wrists and pulling away from your body.

You blink several times, trying to focus your vision, blurred from the drops of tears that have settled on your eyelashes. Only after a few moments does the vile realization of what just happened come to you. But all those words that Blade said… now they belatedly cut into your thoughts, scrolling over and over again. He wasn't serious, was he? You exhale heavily, grabbing your throat with your palms, before rising from your seat and feeling the viscous drops of sperm flow down the bottom of your stomach. You looked down, noticing, it seems, a completely ruined sofa, stained with your secretions, drops of blood, now mixed with semen. It all looks so terribly dirty, but for some reason you feel an amazing lightness and relaxation in your body. Is this how people usually feel after sex? It really doesn't seem like it was what you imagined, but you can't help but admit the fact that it was nice in a way.

You look up, meeting Blade's eyes. His long fingers plunge into the sweat-damp curls of his bangs, combing the unruly strands back. His lips stretch into a grin as he looks you over, noticing how messed up you are.

— Blade… — your voice sounds so hoarse and quiet that you can barely hear yourself.

— Yes?

— You're… You weren't serious about saying all that, were you?

— What exactly?

— Well, about that… That we have our whole life ahead of us, — you move your hands to your shirt, covering your chest with a thin cloth, and bring your legs together, awkwardly fidgeting in your place on the couch.

— Hm, — Blade bends down, cupping your jaw with his palm hard enough to make you flinch in fright, but not enough to hurt you. His lips meet yours again in a short but insistent and possessive kiss. — This is the pure truth.

[adventuringblind]

Drive with you Forever

Chapter Nine: Find me at your doorstep

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader

Chapter summary: summer break is interrupted, Guenther is exasperated, Seb is a father to four kids who can't communicate, and the reader reveals an interesting piece of information

Warnings: kidnapping, medical abuse, physical abuse, drugging, lack of communication, throwing up, sickness, blood, mild gore, Jos Verstappen and his great parenting skills, mentions of SH

Notes: Listen, Y'all, this is probably one of my favorites so far. It's definitely not as comical as others, but it's dramatic and has some action.

Previous &lt;-

Masterlist

She probably shouldn't have been alone. She got comfortable in the safety of their apartment. Her newfound willingness to not let her father get to her.

She shouldn't have left that day as she walked down the streets of Monaco. Pascale had invited her over for lunch, and although she could have driven, she wanted the fresh air.

It was stupid to leave the house, she thinks, as her body refuses to work. Her useless visions apparently don't show what happens to her directly, just what happens around her.

Now she's in a strangers car, her phone broken, and the energy that had doubled since her dad stuck her with the needle not working.

Her healing had gotten better, and she'd discovered how to make new things out of old things. Her visions are clearer and more consistent, and the telekinetic abilities made her feel more like a Jedi from Star Wars every day.

Again, it's all useless now.

~

"Has anyone heard from y/n?" Shouts Charles from the living room where he had been lazily lounging on the couch.

"No. Why?" Max pops his head out of the kitchen. It's grown on Charles to see the Dutch being domestic. He's protective of his kitchen and Charles being the number one threat is not allowed anywhere near it when he's cooking.

"She was supposed to be at my mom's house by now, and apparently, she's not there."

"She did walk there, so maybe she just took the scenic route?"

"But an hour late feels like a lot for that." The anxiety in Charles’ voice is evident.

"Let's not worry about it for now. She knows how to take care of herself."

~

Nobody had heard from her that night. Or the next morning.

The boys couldn't sleep. On the phone with anyone who might know where she is.

Nothing. It's like she disappeared off the planet.

"Do you think it's her dad?" Pipes Lando. The Brit had been pacing a hole in the floor, and both Charles and Max had made him slow down to breathe properly multiple times.

None of them wanted to consider the possibility, but it could be a likely option.

"god I hope not."

~

Her room hadn't changed. The small window is still letting in a cold draft at night. The only thing telling her how long she'd been here.

Five days. Five horribly long days.

The ties around her wrists ached. Her body hurt from being repeatedly drugged and tossed around like a sack of potatoes.

There were more people here now. More then she remembers there ever being at least. She knew there were people, men, who would come in and out but she was never allowed to speak with them.

For what it’s worth, whatever they were doing to her was making her stronger. She’d been able to transfer the wounds from one person onto herself. It’s keeping her captor at ease for now but she knows he wants more.

It’s not ideal and it’s painful. It’s like she can’t get past a mental block that will allow to simply heal. She can feel it somewhere deep within. She knows she can.

Bringing someone back from the dead however, that’s not healing.

Maybe if she’s able to bring back the corpse of her mother, they’ll trade places. Her soul finally giving into the peace of permanent unconsciousness. At least then her boys wouldn’t have to worry. They could move on without her. Find solace in each other.

Maybe, she thinks.

~

Sebastian is going to lose his mind. His daughter is missing and it feels like the only thing the journalists are writing about is how she probably ran off to be a slut for a different group of guys. He was going to have the heads of whoever wrote that if he ever sees them.

The boys had been staying in Germany with him. It hadn’t taken long for the authorities to determine she’s not in Monaco. They’d come here in hopes of reevaluating. Though they were at each others throats when they got here.

Seb had practically forced them to sit down and communicate. They started working together after that.

Hanna had been forcing them to eat proper meals. Seb made sure at least one of them slept at a time. Lando had recovered from four separate panic attacks over two days. Max is trying to look strong but his puffy red eyes give him away. Then there’s Charles; the monegasque had been blaming himself for not walking with her when he could’ve.

Seb had a feeling they were going to find her. She’s a fighter. The when part is much harder to figure out.

And for all their sakes, he hopes it’s soon.

~

Two weeks.

Two weeks of this nonsense.

She wonders if everyone is racing again. Or at lease getting ready too. This was not how she intended on spending her break.

She was getting closer to giving her father what he wanted. She was pulling herself to the edge of no return every time she worked in that rotting corpse of her mother.

Tonight, though, may be her only chance at escape.

They’d forgotten to drug her before leaving her in her room. The alcohol in their systems already taking effect.

She’d been able to slide off her restraints with ease. Her abilities strength coming in handy at the current moment.

Now she quietly is pulling out her window frame. It have never been sealed but she can’t help but feel satisfied when the screen pops out with a satisfying click.

She could care less how far the drop is. She’s two stories up with grass beneath her. She push herself out the window, her body facing the wall and hand gripping the ledge.

She swings herself outward and hits the ground with a soft thud.

Then she runs.

~

She had a destination in mind. Someone at the gas station she stopped at was nice enough to let her use their gps to see how far away she was under the guise of hers being stolen. Technically, she didn’t lie.

The walk to the Haas headquarters was six hours. But she didn’t stop until she got there.

Now she can’t help but lean herself against the front door, hoping someone notices her.

~

Guenther whistles a tune to himself as he arrives at work for the day. The sun is out and the birds are chirping. The definition of a great morning to him.

The familiar female figure slumped on the ground in front of the front door completely changes his tune. He quick to get her inside and find some fresh Haas shirts lying around for her to change into.

Once she’s awake and refreshed he sits her down in his office.

“Are you going to tell me why you spent the night outside the front door?” He sounds like a stern parent. She curls into herself. It’s reminiscent of how she was when he first got her when she was fifteen. Scared, shaking, and so quiet.

He’d known she went missing a little over two weeks ago. It was the reason the summer break had been extended. The FIA had been trying to get more security measures set in place.

“I need to call Seb, please.”

~

The boys were there the next day.

Guenther had taken her to his house despite her adamant refusal. The girl had been to tired to fight and eventually gave in.

It’s not long before she padding softly down to the dining room, halting in her tracks when she sees everyone. She doesn’t say anything. She can’t say anything. The boys don’t either. They don’t know how to approach her.

He led the four males inside and sat them down at his dining room table. “She’s sleeping right now.” Questions come flying at him from the three younger men. Seb shoots them all a look that says shut up and let him explain. “I’ll warn you that she’s a bit of a mess. Her father did a number this time around.”

after an hour of sitting, the anxious boys see the female peek her head around he corner. none of them know what to do. They don’t want to scare her away after what she’s been through.

Seb goes to her first. He approaches her slowly taking her in his arms. Then everything in her snaps. It’s just like when she had night terrors and was finally able to wake up from it. This time however, it had been real.

~

She spends the night in bed with Max. The house they're staying in lacks a bed big enough for all of them.

They had played a game of rock paper scissors, which Max won. He claimed his spot next to her with his signature winning grin.

Charles and Lando decided not to take a different bedroom and are curled up at the floor at the foot of the bed instead. Their soft snores confirm that they are, in fact, asleep.

Max holds her close. Every second with her precious. She'd been crying since they arrived. No matter what they did, she seemed to have a never ending supply of tears.

He'd been the first to assess the damage done to her body.

Diagnosis: terrible. He had half a mind to get Guenther to show him where the hell her father is staying so he can personally drag him to hell.

The cuts and incisions along her torso and chest are still red and puffy. The bruises that littered her skin are awful shades of blue, black, and yellow. Her eyes are dull with dark circles beneath. Her body seemed just as fragile as the day he first met her.

He felt himself slipping back into memories from years ago. Gentle touches so he didn't scare her, slow movements because she flinched away from anyone who moved fast.

Quiet until someone tried to say something mean to him or Seb.

Now she lays on his chest. Tears still fall onto his lightly colored t-shirt. And he finds himself wishing he'd have found her years before he met her, if only to tell her he'll be there for her. No matter what anyone says, he'll always find her.

~

Seb watches carefully as she picks at her piece of toast. According to Guenther, she hadn't been able to keep much down since he found her.

She protested eating anything, but Seb is a good negotiator. He promised that when she could keep food down that they would go home to Germany. Not back to Monaco yet because people are aching to get pictures of her.

"At this rate, I'll be old and wrinkly by the time you finish."

She shoots him scowl. "Aren't you retiring? Dosen't that mean you're already old?"

"Old is a state of mind."

She takes another bite. The taste could be that of a brick, but she's so hungry it would still taste delicious.

"I can't stop thinking about the car that got me."

"What do you mean?" Seb asks gently. She hadn't talked much about the whole ordeal yet. Little bits of information here and there but nothing to help him get a picture of what went on.

"The man driving the car. I knew him."

"But he wasn't your father? Or the man at your door?"

"No, he was older than my father and larger than the man at the door." She rubs her tembles in a struggle to remember.

"No need to think about it now. They're not going to get you again. Mostly because I think your boys might start a war if they do."

Their soft conversation is interrupted by Max speaking to his phone in angry Dutch. A clear sign of Jos being on the other end.

"je doet raar." (You're being ridiculous)

Her head perks up at the phrase. A familiar one Max uses with Charles when he is oblivious.

Max hangs of the phone in a huff amd site down with them at the table.

"Can you say that again?" She looks at Max. Her request odd to him, but he obliges. "je doet raar."

"He was on the phone speaking Dutch. He used that phrase." Her head gets a shooting pain, and lights dance through her eyes as she finds herself receiving the car ride.

This time watching scenes unfold in that past. This is new. Both with her and in the context of the situation.

She's in the passenger seat, and next to her is none other than Jos Verstappen.

~

Charles has never seen Max so angry. Which is saying something because Max is angry a lot.

The scene him and Lando walked into had been nothing short of catastrophic.

A female body tucked into Seb on the couch, the German attempting to get the attention of a specific Dutch. Max obviously is not listening and is letting the most foul things he's even heard him say about his father ring through all their ears.

It's interesting in a sense. The other three had never hesitated to show their distaste towards Jos, and Seb had managed to call him a poor excuse of a father to his face on more than one occasion.

There had been a time that Max had a tire malfunction and ended his race in the wall. Jos had gotten more aggressive then any of them would have liked and he is very lucky that nobody aside from Seb had been around to see it.

Seb has a sway with words. He knows how to make them stick. So when he saw Jos' hand land on Max's cheek, he didn't hesitate to step in.

The German gently tucked Max out of the way and faced the older Dutch with fire in his eyes.

"Didn't know a tire failure was deserving of a slap."

"This is between me and my son."

"As far as I'm aware, he's dating my daughter, which makes him mine also. Touch him again, and I'll take legal action."

It was one of the only times Seb had to hold Max comfortingly in his chest. Reassuring the boy that he did not deserve any of that even as Max explained why he did.

Lando is the fastest to act. His arms encircled around Max's body. He can visibly see him relax into the Brits hold.

"Jos was the one who took me originally." The female explains. Her knees tucked up to her chest, and her head rests on sebs shoulder. Charles makes note of how she looks more exhausted now the the last time he saw her.

The words didn't register with him. Not entirely anyway. It didn't make sense. How is it even possible that Jos is in kahoots with the devil?

It would seem they are both devils that somehow raised angels. Charles will only thank them for that, and only after he's killed them.

It's terrible really, the way they look at him. She is teary eyed and apologizing while Max looks clueless. And for the first time since Charles started dating him, Max is pleading with his eyes for help. The Dutch is clueless on where to go from here.

"Knowing that, Max, if you want to leave your dad out of this, we can." Mentions Seb. He knows that the way Jos brought up Max left him confused. His dad praised him and rewarded him one second, then hit him the next. It made thinking fuzzy for him, and since his father was never all bad, he told everyone that it was a good thing. He was attached to him regardless of the circumstances.

This was different.

"If he's going to kidnap my lovers, then he needs to be put away."

"That makes this easier. Know that my home is your home as it always has been, in case things get ugly."

Max nods his head at the German. Really, Seb had been his father figure since he was seventeen. Jos didn't have much say in his life anymore

~

After a third attempt at eating toast, she was finally able to keep it down. It was forced, and she had gagged multiple times, but it was still in her stomach after an hour.

They left soon after that, thanking Guenther profusely for , once again, rescuing her at her worst.

The perks of dating a world champion is that he now owns a private jet. They got home sooner than she expected because of it.

Hanna greeted them at the door and gently latched herself to her daughter. The relief coming in the for of salty tears.

She likes being at home in Germany. Seb had made sure to keep her old room clean. He even got a bigger bed once he heard Lando joined them.

The room feels comfortable and familiar. She's even able to fall asleep when she sits on top of the soft covers.

That is how the boys found her. Snoring softly, draped over the bed with her shoes still on. They carefully slip her shoes of and reposition her where she'll be more comfortable.

Then, they leave the room and shut the door behind them. Their conversation nothing but whisper right outside the door.

"Will she be able to drive next week?"

"I hope so. Maybe Charles will have a chance if she can't, though." The Dutch snickers. Charles hits his shoulder playfully. "I'm not sure how to move forward now. It seems like anything we do only prolongs the inevitable."

"We take it on day at a time then."

~

She managed to get herself to the race track. Driving may not be an option yet, but at least she was there. Christian wasn't going to let her drive until he got her physical report back.

Really it was Max telling him the truth about how she still can't keep down a full meal and is now dropping weight because of it.

She did eat some crackers and was fine. She's proud of herself for that one.

Despite Sergio driving the second redbull, she was happy to be back. The paddock felt similar to home in some ways.

The only new thing is that she's never alone. When free practice 1 comes around, Max dutifully places her on the pitwall next to Christian. She dosen't move until somone comes to get Her.

She feels mildly like a nuisance to them since they have to pay extra attention to her now.

She's stays in their hotel room the rest of the weekend until right before the race. Everyone in the garage is shocked to see her walk in alone.

All her boys end up on the podium, and it's the first time she's celebrated since she came back.

~

Three quarters through the season, and she's still not driving. Still training in more ways than one, but not driving.

She doesn't feel like she can. Her body is still physically decimated. She's able to keep down more then just toast now, but that's on a good day.

Her powers are at the strongest they've ever been. She's managed to learn more about self-defense in case someone tries to nab her again. But with that comes sticky note threats in Jos Verstappens' handwriting.

It's starting to look desperate.

Despite the state of her uncooperative body, she still went to every race. Attempting to be as supportive as possible from the sidelines.

It didn't feel as painful as when she felt as though she lost her spot the first time. This time, she still had purpose. She is doing her best to learn how to keep her family safe. That's all she could ask of herself.

All of them were glad she wasn't pushing to get back in the car. They all know about her aptitude for pain. Christian is amazed by how she's coping and fully supports her decision. Seb seems to be cheering her on in the pits even though he's the one driving.

She doesn't even bat an eye when Jos makes a vaugly threatening statement towards her. Because if she wanted, she'd have his head through the wall in a second.

She doesn’t let herself get comfortable this time. The nagging feeling that something worse is coming a constant in the back of her mind.

~

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Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @jayda12 @faithm120601 @eugene-emt-roe @lpab @yaaadii @80sloverry @spongebeck3101 @eviethetheatrefreak

@chanshintien

[heli0s-writes]

Torch Song

a/n: the prompt is unhealthy coping mechanisms. Warnings for marijuana use & underage drinking. College!Reader & Bucky pining for Steve and trying to get their shit together. 4.2k words. moonchild masterlist

The summer after your college freshman year feels like a scene out of a Sundance Festival flick. One of those long, languid pictures with the neighborhood kids on their bikes flying down the middle of an empty street in Nowheretown, Suburbia and the shot is wide and steady with the sun slipping past the treescape, tucking itself into the other side of the world.

The block is mostly empty when you pull up in your old, blue candy-paint truck, and rattling beneath the body pops around after the engine gurgles off.

If the scene continues, the wash of light over your face would be filtered a notch too yellow, the shadow cast behind your head, too green. You’d be the protagonist coming home draped in melancholy, soul-searching, wandering her childhood memories in a pretentious daze, folky pop tunes softly crooning in the background, begging for a reason to look forward to the following semester.

College spat you back out like unwanted scraps on the dinner table, and you’re so tired from the drive that you don’t even care about taking your luggage inside. That’s tomorrow’s task—tomorrow’s problem.

You sit for a moment just to breathe.

If the scene continues, the house would be empty, but there would be leftovers in the fridge with a sticky note on top and another longer one on the dining room table. If the scene continues, you’d throw yourself face down in bed and lie awake until someone comes home, peeks in on you asleep. They’d linger in the doorway, finally slipping off with a fond smile and a quiet click of the door.

The camera would pan out through the front, up above the roof, into the sky gone dark.

Instead, sudden banging on your window makes you scream, and your vision goes out for a split second in sheer, animal panic. Your head whips over to see Bucky Barnes’ face grinning shit-eatingly a mile wide.

You slump back tiredly and close your eyes, letting out an exasperated, “Fuck.”

He does nothing to help your heart rate return to normal, only shouting, “Hey, state!” so loudly you swear the windows are vibrating. Past the glass, which you’ll kill him for if he cracks, he points to the immaculately rolled joint behind his ear because he’s a private-school motherfucker who smokes more than an industrial chimney.

“What’s this?” Bucky taunts, “Think you can just roll back into town without telling anybody? Not with this shitcan, you can’t. I heard this—” he thumps on the frame of your truck noisily, and the creak that gives way under his fist is just your baby yelling at him for being an asshole, “—heard this thing all the way from the service road.”

“Fuck off,” you reply, but roll down the window, manually cranking it with some dramatic flair to show that yes, your car is old, but it still works. “This car took you to breakfast every week of senior year.”

He barks a laugh. “This car shakes in the wind.”

“Just like you during Blair Witch Project.”

Bucky closes his mouth into a thin and deadly serious line, not even bothering to contest that accusation, but shooting back with, “Like you skinny dipping at my ma’s junior year.”

“No, I think it’s more like you getting a car door to the sack right outside of my house.”

“I never got—hell!”

Good for him, his reflexes are still excellent. Bucky leaps back about three feet, body going bow-curved to dodge your door and makes to comment on the awful squeal of metal hinges, but the filter from his brain to his mouth—especially in the wake of a near-castration—stops him.

Wisely, he stands up tall, pats down his clothes, and pulls you fully out of the worn leather seat, out of the protective hull of a faithful, old vehicle.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he grins, using the crook of his finger to flick your chin upward just a touch, “Good to see you.”

And then, because he really is set on turning your trip into some kind of cheesy summer indie flick, he wraps both of his arms around you tightly, hugs you to him in a way that feels too firm and too soft all at once, and the heartbeat that had returned to its natural routine starts to pick up again, double time.

“Mm, yeah,” you mumble, “Same to you, Buck.”

-

On the back porch, Bucky takes a sharp first drag, rolling the joint between his fingers to check it. He takes in another breath before exhaling, then hands it off.

“How long was the drive?”

You inhale carefully, letting the sensation swirl inside of your lungs before watching the jetting smoke flit into the sky.

“Like, seven hours. When did you get back?”

“Four days ago. Becs picked me up and we got Frosties with Butterfingers—missed that. Missed her loads.” You pass the joint after another hit, feel the constant dullness behind your eyes ebbing like a slow tide and hum along. “Missed you, too,” Bucky says casually, grinning wide as his eyes flick over, “It’s shitty our spring breaks didn’t line up.”

“Yeah,” you reply, remembering the string of lamenting text messages he sent you. “I’d just cockblock you at the beach. It was for the best.”

He laughs at that, “Girls like me more when they think I’m unavailable.”

“More? Isn’t… how much they like you now enough?”

“Never such a thing as too much, I say.”

Then, probably because he’s been wriggling out of his skin to say it, he goes ahead, taking a hard left from easy conversation and sharply into, “Hey, Stevie’s home.”

Your throat tightens, chin dipping toward your chest as you hang your head. Your elbows, propped up on the railing, notice the woodgrain digging into them for the first time.

Bucky’s been here for a few days now, probably toured the neighborhood, caught up with a few old faces—and whenever Steve arrived—Bucky probably avoided him for exactly 4 hours before he got his front door banged on.

And well, Bucky couldn’t ever say no to Steve.

So they probably visited all the old stomping grounds, ate the diners out of business, hopped into the lake and sunbathed on the docks and then Steve would have told him what he wanted to do—what he’s wanted to do since he was probably 7 years old. What he’s held out on, saved up for, what he’s found and cherished and practically dedicated his whole life to—thumbs fiddling with eagerness and that bright, bright hope for the future.

Bucky nudges you with his elbow, “He’s real happy.”

“Good for him.” You nudge back, trying to mean it.

Bucky rolls his eyes, the quirk at the edge of his mouth jerking up and down as he purses his lips disapprovingly, “Only one of us needs to be emo, and I’ve got the emo for the day. You can have it tomorrow.” Then, he taps the ash from the joint and the edge of his mouth stays up this time.

“Hey, lemme shotgun you better.”

You snort at him, but let your jaw relax, eyes fluttering shut, and when Bucky leans into blow smoke into your mouth, you inhale the scent of burning. His breath is soft on the hollow of your cheek, and he sings, “Let’s get fucking high.”

The hit is too big, so he sucks in what you can’t swallow, and then he kisses you, takes in the smoke escaping your nose, hand still on your chin but not in any kind of grip. His mouth moves easy, as if saying hello.

He kisses you a second time, lingering, and watches closely when he’s finished.

He’s asking with his eyes, is this okay, do you want me to stop, do you want me again?

It’s not like the two of you haven’t made out once or twice. There have been too many high school parties with cheap beer and underage drinking to cross that prospect out—and not to mention the nights where you stayed up late, wired with the kind of indescribable energy that late-teenagers have—the storm of confusion and hesitation while glaring at a horizon of endless possibilities and being told to pick just one.

One track, one major, one path.

Not like it was an exclusive experience. Most high schoolers, even the best-behaved, perhaps especially the best-behaved, would say that those nights—after school and work, dinner with or without a family, with or without another conversation about the next step, about the future—lying in bed, bone tired, listening to the noises of evening outside, that it was sometimes very difficult not to run yourself down the road and scream until only blood came out. 

And when it wasn’t really an option to scream, because screaming would disquiet the happy-go-lucky neighborhood and give an adult cause to institutionalize you, the only thing to do was text a friend.

And the friend would climb himself over your fence and grin outside your window until you opened it up, hissing at him not to be so loud and clumsy and the two of you would chain-smoke cigarettes for hours to feel more than nominally alive. Because the stagnant bitter taste of nicotine in your belly was better than a belly like a hurricane, and the slip of your friend’s tongue—who’d been spilling his same brand of guts out under the night sky—was better than an imaginary one.

Better than one encased in the prettiest pink mouth, laid so gentle and sweet against a heavy bottom lip, one that wouldn’t just kiss without wanting a guarantee. Without wanting that choice—that single, damning choice—for the rest of his life.

It feels kind of stupid again when you look at Bucky and he looks back, over your face and lips, down the line of your neck as you tilt forward instinctively. It feels kind of stupid when your body lurches a little toward him, asking him to hold it there again, keep it safe again.

Is it the nostalgia that’s making you regress back to being 16 and a half or is it just you? You and your broken… whatever it is that’s broken.

Heart, a little voice in your head pipes up, it’s your heart, and you’d very much like to curb-stomp it to death.

The sun is gone now, and he’s watching with glazy eyes from the smoke, pink around the corners, and his lids are heavier as you feel. Time is stretching and flying, and the air is flexing around the both of you as bugs begin to cry noisily.

“Somethin’ on my face?” he asks, cocky to deflect your silence, but he looks like a million things: lonely, happy, sweet. Hungry for a life he hasn’t got.

“You want to stay the night? My parents are doing that empty nester thing where they go on long vacations with retirement money.” You blurt, because the thing is, you’re feeling that same empty, hungry loneliness. That same, bittersweet pain.

“Depends. We gonna have a pillow fight in our undies?”

You punch him in the shoulder a few times until he yelps, getting to his feet and dusting off his jeans. Although he’d been laughing, his eyes have turned stormy, the evening behind him curling like beckoning fingers, the single hallway light you flicked on the way out back asking you to both come inside.

-

You make a frozen pizza and pick off the olives, snagging a few beers, and the both of you kick back on the couch for an hour, chewing and slurping and sometimes stealing each other’s crusts.

He tells you about the courses he’s taking and how he landed an art modeling gig and almost popped a woody and that wasn’t even the most uncomfortable thing he experienced.

“There’s so much repressed homosexuality in these private schools. Check it out: this kid draws me practically naked for a week, gets down every detail—gets down my damn leg hairs for fucks sake—but he avoids,” he signals to his groin, “and then when he gets to it, he overthinks the whole time, and by the time the session’s over, the outline of my junk is the most prominent part of the entire thing.”

He places his arm back behind his head, the other one, beneath you, twitching slightly. “And when he hangs it up for the critique, it looks like someone drew me in pencil and drew my guy in marker.”

“Brutal.”

“Yeah!” He’s outraged at the memory, “Looked like someone brutalized my dick. This thing is…” he gestures in weird motions, reenacting a kind of car crash shadow puppet scene and you take it to mean bad. “I got a really nice one, you know? So that kinda hurt my feelings.”

You groan loudly, leaning back on the couch.

“Man,” you take a swig of beer, washing down the second-hand embarrassment in your throat along with a swallow of pizza, “you don’t change.”

Bucky only grins and grabs at his crotch obscenely.

-

“If we’re not married by the time we’re both 40,” you suggest, sprawled atop the comforter, staring at the bedroom ceiling with its glow in the dark plastic stars.

“Hunt each other for sport? That not what you were getting at?” Bucky shifts listlessly, so that you can use his arm as a pillow. He’s thrown off the extra ones so that both of you could lie down after dinner—a six pack of beers drained along with another joint.

“You’ll probably be married before then,” he says, “Don’t sweat it.”

The ceiling is undulating sluggishly, idle green cutouts starting to look like they’re actually twinkling and you trace them with a finger, draw out his name and your name and get stuck on the next word.

“I don’t even know if I want to get married,” you reply, putting your finger down. Resentment jabs at your chest. “I mean, I think I’m starting to figure out that we’ve been spoon-fed our whole lives… about everything. Does that make sense? Just… told to do and be without real reason other than that it’s how everyone else is. I mean, what if that’s not it—you know? What if I do all of that and then 10 years later I still feel like this? I graduated, I moved out, I’m in college—and, Buck, I still feel like this.”

Your tummy hurts, because it hasn’t worked out even a little bit—you haven’t had a real boyfriend, haven’t even had very many good dates. There was a benefit and a disadvantage of growing up with the same pair of best friends your entire life because now making new ones feels like both an act of betrayal and justan act as you watch yourself talk to a stranger, trying to puppeteer your body into saying, doing, behaving correctly while ignoring the jilted awkwardness of your own limbs and words.

It only feels natural like this: back in your town, in your neighborhood, in your bed. Bucky by your side, bleary-eyed from drugs or alcohol or sleep deprivation and a few inches away from hysterical.

He traces a made-up constellation in the air, humming absentmindedly.

“Baby, I don’t think anybody knows anything. Not your folks or my folks or the fucking president. We figured all that out when we were kids.”

“The only person in the world who knows what they want to do is Steve fucking Rogers, okay, and he’s a freak of nature. No one goes from being the runtiest runt to have ever runted to hitting a growth spurt so hard it looks like their nose burst out of their face.”

That shocks a cackle out of you, “Buck!”

Bucky isn’t deterred. “Fuckin’ Toucan Sam is what he looked like. Size 12 feet in 9th grade and then growing into them over the summer. Asshole made the football team without tryouts. Bulked up like a sonuvabitch.”

You nuzzle the rest of your wheezing laughs into Bucky’s shoulder and sigh, “Yeah, he got real pretty, too. Well, he was always pretty to me and you.”

The air seems to go after that, even the humming of summer at the window retreating while Bucky lets you breathe into him, tilt your face until your lips are on the line of his jaw and grazing his stubble. It’s so melodramatic. So pulled apart and dissected and then instead of retrieving any valuable information from it, you keep scraping it into a bin.

“This okay?” You say instead, closing your eyes, inhaling the scent of him. His shampoo, his light sheen of boy sweat, the wheat beer you’ve both been drinking, all of it atop your bed. He’s warm and alive and you haven’t touched anyone since—

Since ever. Since every summer. Since Bucky, every summer.

He waggles his brows salaciously, “Mhm. Keep doing that and I’ll let you do it somewhere else, too.”

You snort, “Man, you really don’t change.”

It’s always been easy for him. There were many pages in your middle school diary about how Bucky Barnes taught the entire 6thth grade to French kiss and that the 8th grade girls were going to steal him away—and who was going to hang out with you and Steve at the peanut-free table during lunch now?

Of course, he was always too good, despite dating half the cheerleaders, so he’d tell all his girlfriends they couldn’t get mad at his girl best friend and the little blonde stick of a boy that he wouldn’t ever leave behind.

Bucky Barnes made the grades and got the girls and still ate lunch at the nut-free table despite loving cashews more than anybody.

Idiot.

“You need me to sweet talk you now?” he teases. “All I had to do in high school was tap a pack of Menthols on my chest and you’d let me stick my tongue in your mouth for hours. You’ve changed.” He clambers over on top of you, hovering and blocking out the ceiling, a maniacal grin across his face.

“Oh, shut up, I have not.” You defiantly crunch up to kiss him like proving some kind of point. “Just cause you’ve caught every disease known to man and some animals and I have—haven’t—you know.”

He wipes at his lip where you landed too hard and clumsy, eyes scrutinizing before they light up in disbelief. He lets out a huff of air that’s both impressed and alarmed.

“Shut up,” you say again, with feeling.

“You’re serious.”

“Why would I joke about that. Jerk.”

Bucky sighs, maneuvering off, because it seems like you can’t maintain any more eye contact, and puts his hands behind his head. “The first time someone touched my dick, I think I thought I died. And then I spent the next 6 months trying to do anything for someone to do it again. I can teach you,” he says.

You retort, “Dude, I’m pretty sure I know what to do; I’ve watched a lot of porn.”

“It’s kinda hot to hear you say that, but seriously. College towns are pocket dimensions of raging boners. You could have walked outside and flagged down a hard dick like a cab.”

That is a terrible scenario to imagine, and your face twists accordingly. “Gross. I’m sure I need a therapist, not an STD.”

“Maybe you need a good lay. But seriously,” he says, expression gone back to soft, “what’re you holding out for?”

You frown deeply, “I’m not holding out for anything.”

“If you’re just not interested, like, because you don’t identify—”

“Bucky,” you say patiently, “I’m interested, it just— it’s stupid. It’s the same—same thing. Same thing it’s always been."

A hurt expression crawls it way up his face because the two of you have been carrying the torch for years. For most of your lives.

In love with Steve Rogers since you were 11, probably—and Bucky was in love with him even before that. Couldn’t find a single thing to dislike about him other than that he couldn’t ever see it—couldn’t ever recognize that he was the brightest burn in the sky.

Sneaking out to commiserate was about school and parents and expectations, and on the nights you kissed and let Bucky weave his fingers through yours, it was always, always about Steve.

Steve, who wanted to be in love so badly, so truly, who fell for Peggy Carter the first day she arrived from England—the only person in this town who met him after his growth spurt—after he grew into his new body, learned how to move it like a finely tuned machine, and he never looked back.

That was, and still is, the heart of him. Running unflinchingly into daybreak with the night sky melting off his back, eating his dust. And there was you, and there was Bucky, miles behind, making wishes on falling stars—hoping he’d turn around, just once.

And you carried that hope so far, let it bleed into every corner of your life. The straight and narrow of school and work and leaving home—the track of life Steve would take—you wanted it, too. You wanted him to be proud of you, wanted his life parallel to yours because at least you’d see him in the distance going the same way.

And now he’s getting married. While you could hardly commit to a second date because you were carrying a torch that was only keeping you warm by setting you on fire. Carrying a torch that feels like a grudge some nights.

Bucky’s hands are still gentle on your hips. He looks fragile, hovering like a swinging mobile with cracks in it, and if you tugged at him the wrong way he’d collapse, so you brush your thumb at the furrow between his brows, smoothing it out encouragingly.

He closes his eyes, tucks his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Yeah,” is all he says. “Guess we went at it totally different ways, huh? I guess I wanted him to catch me by the scruff of my neck and tell me to settle down how he used to.”

“And I wanted him to tell me to get to living. Wanted him to show me how.”

“I can show you.”

This time, he’s earnest. All the edge of play gone out of his words. He showed you how to kiss, after all. Showed you how he kissed every girl on the track team and you twisted his ear afterward, called him a womanizer and he cackled all the way to fourth period.

“And I can tell you to settle down, but it’s not the same, is it?”

Bucky knocks his forehead into your collar with a definitive thwack and then he sinks with his entire weight, lying on top of you like he’s not a brick wall of boy muscle, the weight of two pizzas, and a case of beer.

You whack him repeatedly until he rolls off, flopping at your side with his hair in your mouth. You spit it out and ponder, “Why are we talking about him like he’s dead?”

“I think he’s dead a little bit. I think we have to let that kid go.”

And the image of Steve turned away for good, for the last time, cuts a crease so deep you didn’t know it was possible to still be alive after.

And yet here you are, and here Bucky is next to you.

“He’s gonna ask you to be his best man.”

Bucky shrugs, “Or he’ll ask you.”

“Shit,” you laugh, a sudden jolt of reality lancing your heart, “Oh shit, Buck. He might ask us both.”

He laughs along, “What are we gonna do, huh?”

“Cry.”

“I mean after that,” he says pointedly, like you’ve suggested the most obvious scenario.

“Get drunk. Dance poorly. You’ll hook up with a bridesmaid in the photobooth.”

“Nah, I’d never leave you. We’ll cry, we’ll get drunk, we’ll dance, and then we’ll send ‘em off, and then we’ll go home. We’ll split a cab.”

He turns, locking one leg between yours, one hand around your waist until it can draw circles in the middle of your back. He looks and he looks and when you feel like you could start crying right there as he’s smiling and touching you, Bucky kisses you long and hard and presses his entire body against yours.

“And you’ll stay the night,” he murmurs.

“Sure, Buck,” you sigh, “I’ll stay the night.”

“And we’ll kiss some more. Or we’ll just watch a movie. In the morning I’ll make you pancakes with a whipped cream smile and blueberries for eyes.”

You laugh into his mouth. His sweet, warm mouth, always so good and right and just what you needed.

“God, Becs is going to be so shitty about us.”

“Becs thinks we should have gotten together years ago.”

“Becs thinks we should have hunted each other for sport years ago.”

He cackles, pulling himself closer, until you’re crushed in his embrace. “Nah, baby. I’d never do that to you.”

You push your hands up beneath his shirt, feel his heartbeat in your palm. “We’re so dramatic.”

“Oh yeah. We’ll get over it, though. Love him too much for anything else. Love you, too.”

You nuzzle further into him. “Yeah, love you, too.”

The movie comes to an end here, everything fading into a gentle blur as Bucky pulls the blanket up over your chest. You laugh and inhale him, smelling his sweat and warmth and your own kisses on his chest.

Overhead, neon plastic stars spell out a man-made galaxy, and the two of you watch them hold onto their artificial light for a few more minutes before everything slips away.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

hi! i saw your post about how true the makers of atsv were to real-life brooklyn and i loved it so much that i just had to ask if you'd be willing to make a more in-depth analysis on that? i'm not from america but i adore the movie so it's very interesting to hear firsthand accounts about its authenticity from locals! ofc this is just a humble request and i completely understand if the answer is no <3

I'd LOVE to! The Spiderverse Series is honestly the most accurate movie of New York I've seen in my life - including live-action movies. I say that not just in essence but in everything. And Across the Universe takes it over the top. Like, INSANELY so.

Across The Spiderverse & It's Dedication to Cultural Accuracy [aka ATSV is so goddamn good I can tell you exactly what street Gwen and Miles went to Mumbattan from. It's that accurate.]

I'm a black, afro-latino, and a born and raised 'Brooklynite'. Despite there being thousands of movies of New York, I'd say less than 5 percent of them are in any way accurate or current. (Yellow taxi cabs are no longer a thing here really.)

But Across the Spiderverse defies that in every way - nailing it historically, culturally, and even by replicating exact locations.

Wanna see the Bodega Spot robbed? Cause it's a real, random bodega! And the building he goes into at the end - I can tell you exactly where it is, with 100% assurity. All by street signs.

In the first scene with Spot we see him standing outside on the curb, looking into the store. On the corner there is a street sign that reads Fulton St.

Fulton is an actual street in BedStuy (Bedford Stuyvesant, pronounced Bed-St-eye), literally a stone's throw from my house. And they take it further.

Although it can be hard to see, the other side to the left of it reads Nostrand Ave. Fulton and Nostrand is a very popular intersection in the neighborhood, mainly because there's a subway station for the A line located on one corner.

There's Nostrand and Fulton.

But if you turn to the other corner you see...A Bodega! Looks familar?

That's the bodega Spot robbed.

99% of the people who watch this movie will be from New York. Even less will be from BedStuy. Even less will catch the split second sign on the corner, only on screen for only a few frames.

It took me 3 watches to notice. But I noticed. And my jaw dropped. How much that means is unexplainable. I've been on that corner, and the TacoBell across the street. And so has Miles. That's insane.

It doesn't stop there.

Spot enters the store, as we pass we see a sticker for 'WIC/EBT' on the cashier's counter. I'm not sure how common this is - but WIC and EBT standards for Welfare Benefits and Food Stamps. As you cannot buy warm food with Food Stamps (sadly), lots of bodegas advertise taking EBT for the deli sandwiches.

Nice shout out to the struggling families in the communities, I love a Bodega that takes EBT.

We move towards the back of the store - In the Bodega while Spot messes with the ATM we get a wider shot, and another very insanely specific shout out.

Behind Spot is a sign showing a Beef Patty (which I'll mention in a moment) and a sun logo called 'Sunny Patty'.

This is a direct call out to a specific chain of Beef Patty shops in Brooklyn and Harlem called 'Golden Krust'.

I cannot stress how much of a niche reference this is! Golden Krusts only exist in low income neighborhoods - mainly in Brooklyn, Harlem, and the Bronx. If you're anywhere near Times Square or any place else New York shows choose to portray - you're not finding a Golden Krust.

Golden Krusts are store that is ingrained in Caribbean culture, which Brooklyn is full of - hence the adapted Jamaican flag up front. I grew up eating Golden Krust and I'd eat it more if they didn't close so goddamn early.

But it's there.

Once again, only a few pixels, only a few frames, but someone probably took 6 hours drawing that. For the 0.009% of the people who'll get the reference. Low-income, black New Yorkers - like me.

ATSV is so accurate that you can even find the exact spot in which Miles and Gwen leave through the portal.

But before I tell you where it is - I wanna talk about why it's so important.

It's important because one of the most famous Spider-man scenes in history is just plain WRONG to New Yorkers.

This scene is ENTIRELY incorrect, and I knew it even as a child.

Firstly, based on the skyscrapers everywhere, this is solidly Manhattan. The train says Bay Ridge, which is in South Brooklyn, maybe 40 minutes away by train. So I'm going to assume this is the Q or B train, running through Manhattan. Which, okay they do, but -

There are NO elevated trains in Manhattan. The Q, like every other train, only goes above ground in Brooklyn and Queens. This is very clearly Chicago.

So he couldn't be doing this. It's a simple but HUGE fuck up. Any one born in New York will notice it because Manhattan just looks wrong with elevated trains.

And it would've been fine if they just set it in Brooklyn where Bay Ridge and the elevated trains actually are.

But instead they made generic Manhattan streets - so much so I can't even tell what neighborhood they're in. Do you see how this is such a problem?

Across The Spiderverse is animated. And they still put in the effort.

I can't tell you where Peter Parker is stopping that train - it ain't Manhattan - but I CAN tell you where Miles and Gwen leave for Mumbattan.

So let's go back to where we started. We're on Fulton and Nostrand both in BedStuy.

Throughout the fight, we see Spot and Miles go through a couple streets - most notably a very popular street in the neighborhood - Broadway.

This happens twice, once while fighting Spot, and once when Miles and Gwen grab the hot dogs. They show this twice, cause this will be important for what we're trying to do.

Now this may not make any sense to you, since it's just random streets, but I'm about to tie it together.

Gwen releases the bug near an elevated train. When we see Miles and Gwen swinging, they cling to a train. Now, it's hard to tell what train this is but so far we know.

We're in Brooklyn

We're near Broadway

We're near an elevated train line

There's a station on Broadway called Broadway Junction. It serves the G line and the J,M,Z line.

When we see the train pass by, we get a glimpse of the model. Each train line has a slightly different variation, with some being a lot old. The one that passes is one of the newer ones.

(Once again, very accurate, as those models do run on elevated lines)

And although we can't see the letter on the train, by that alone, I can guess we're by the elevated J,M,Z lines in BedStuy - near Broadway Junction. Easy. Now we just need to know what stop we're at.

Well, they tell us that too. Finally, When Spot heads into the building we get a glimpse of the exact street he's on - Bedford.Ave

So I just threw a LOT of information at you - but look at this map of the J,M,Z line and hopefully it comes together

At the bottom along the green line - we see Bedford/Nostrand Ave. Remember, the robbery starts us off on Nostrand. Let's move up the green line. We get to a part where the green line passes the brown and orange ones - the JMZ trains.

They connect at Broadway (Officially Broadway Junction Station). We see Broadway with the hot dog vendor there.

If we move to left of Broadway we see Marcy Av. - and if we look to the left OF THAT we see a faint white line heading north.

THAT line is Bedford Ave. Where Spot enters the building.

Because we know they're in Brooklyn, and we know they passed Broadway. Plus we know they're now on Bedford by an elevated train that runs newer models.

So from those signs alone we can definitely say that Spot is on Bedford Ave. and Broadway. Next to the JMZ elevated trains, two stops from Broadway Junction in Brooklyn.

100% that's the spot (lol). That's the only place Bedford crosses an elevated train. And as a New Yorker, I got that from this photo.

Trust me when I say - we can tell.

By those short shots of street signs, we know that Miles started in BedStuy, swung north towards Broadway, then took a turn towards Bedford Ave in Williamsburg. And that's where Gwen plants the bug - and the place she returns to before going to Mumbattan.

Is that crazy? That's CRAZY. Percision accuracy that I have never seen in a movie live-action or otherwise.

All throughout the first scenes of ATSV - they are on actual streets, that are reasonably within swinging distance of each other, along actual train lines - with their stations accurately located.

That's INSANE. There was no need for that amount of detail, but they did it anyway.

There's SO many times in Spider-men movies where they'll start swinging in Queens, and then the next scene is like Upper Manhattan. They don't label the neighborhoods, but from buildings alone, I can tell what neighborhood it is.

And I'm supposed to believe Peter just swung 2 and a half boroughs in twenty minutes. I don't notice. But I NOTICE.

Here, Miles and Gwen are truly swinging accurate distances in the right amount of time. That's mental. And refreshing!

In a live action movie - they have NO excuse. Just film in the city, it's not like we're Gotham. And we give film crews huge tax breaks. In an animated movie - completely understandable. But they still said 'No, that's subpar.' and went the extra mile.

They didn't even have to show ANY street signs, they could've left it at the easter egg at the corner store.

But they didn't. Because they're telling a story about a Black kid from Brooklyn, who leaves for someplace completely unfamiliar. BedStuy is Miles' home, and they wanted to make it feel that way. So when he's not there - in the cold polish of Neuva York - you can feel it.

You can feel Miles leaving his warm, rich community when he lacks that community in the Society. In the movie and IRL, BedStuy is so full of color, with so many people doing so many things and sharing so many cultures.

And in the society, everyone is the same. There's no culture. That's dedication.

Because of a train in Spider-man 2, I was immediately taken out of the story. And because of train in ATSV, I was immediately brought in.

For once, it feels like they're swinging around a neighborhood - cause they are.

A Large Detail in ATSV:

So I talked about Trinity Church - the real church that Peter Parker was buried at in ITSV - and how accurate the team got it to the actual building.

In fact, this is the spot where Miles is standing.

Like he's standing maybe 20 feet AT most from this spot, you can see in the windows and spires at the top.

But I also wanna explain why this - and why the fact that Peter was buried there is SO important.

Trinty Church is one of the most famous historical churches in the United States. It was started by the first English settlers in New York. It's extremely famous, and extremely sentimental.

For reference - Alexander Hamilton and his family are also buried at Trinity Church, along with dozens of other important US historical figures - across centuries.

You can't just be buried in Trinity. It's a city landmark. The cemetery is full, small, and you CANNOT pay your way in. The church is extremely choosy with who they will bury there - and honestly, I don't think anyone has been buried there for maybe a century or more.

So for the city to bury Peter Parker's body in the most prominent church in all of the city, if not the country - that speaks VOLUMES.

Like I said in the last post, my father use to work at Trinity Church - and they're the whole deal. Candles burning everywhere, super quiet and devote. The church has catacombs under it, everything.

They didn't just bury him anywhere. The people of New York went out of their way to give Peter Parker the most honorable burial physically possible within the city of New York.

The highest honor for any New Yorker. One reserved only for Spider-man.

Which I think was an amazing touch. Especially since Trinity is in downtown Manhattan - so anyone could come visit and pay respects.

Other Cultural Accuracies

Before we wrap up I wanna breeze through some other cultural accuracies that appear in ATSV.

Miles stops to eat a Jamaican Beef Patty while in the Bodgea. I spoke about these earlier with the Golden Krust sign. Jamaican beef patties are these flaky pastries colored with tumeric, full of spicy meat. And they are very popular with the large Carribean community in Brooklyn - which I'm apart of :)

In the case, we see the Beef Patties labeled with red dots. But Miles seems to go for the only one without it.

I'm guessing the red dots indicate which ones are the spicy Beef Patties and which ones are the mild, and Miles grabbed the last mild one they had.

They draw it really well, especially while Miles is eating it.

"Spider-man seems more Dominican." Genuine question - did anyone laugh at this joke in your theatre?

Because all three times I went, people laughed. The first time people LOVED that joke.

NYC, especially the Bronx has a HUGE Puerto Rican AND Dominican population - many times living side by side

And there's this kinda 'beef' in the same way Yankees fans have beef with the Mets fans (NYC baseball teams)

The best way I can describe the joke is that they're two very strong, very proud Spanish cultures that are often mistaken for each other - but Puerto Ricans and Dominicans can very obviously tell each other apart. Mainly because of the Spanish they speak.

So for him and his mom to have that back and forth, it's kinda an inside joke of Puerto Ricans and Dominicans getting confused for each other - but them being able to tell the difference.

His mom says Spider-man is Puerto Rican, but Miles corrects her - without backing it up with any reason.

It's like they can just TELL.

I don't know how else to explain the joke but its a very New Yorker thing to do - discuss that out like that.

Since a lot of us are the children of immigrants - it's knee-jerk to identify with your parent country and not this one.

If you ask someone in New York 'What are you'. Many young people (me included) would say "Oh I'm *parents nationality*." In my case, I say I'm Bajan and Peruvian. Even though I was born in New York.

Miles would say he's Puerto Rican though he's never been.

So them discussing where Spider-man is 'from' even though he's obviously a New Yorker is the joke.

Like - someone on the writing team HAD to be from New York to add that in cause it's so...oddly New Yorker???

While swinging Miles and Gwen pass the B46 bus. Once again, completely accurate. The scene starts on Nostrand and Fulton. The B46 does indeed stop on Fulton St.

When they're swinging, the movie accurately shows the new World Trade Center (aka The Freedom Tower) - which is the tallest building in the picture.

Also, the bridge to the LEFT is the Brooklyn Bridge, while the tall one on the right is Manhattan Bridge. Many people don't know there's actually two bridges. (There's more but those two are the main ones)

Good on them for showing both Bridges, both accurately placed as well

Fun fact: Trains run over the Manhattan Bridge - the Q, B and a couple others (beautiful - I love it when they do) but trains do not run over the Brooklyn Bridge.

And lastly, when Miles and Spot are on Broadway, the school behind them is actually architecturally accurate for a Brooklyn school. So much so that design is iconic.

______________________ So those are most if not all of the cultural accuracies in Across the Spiderverse!

I cannot stress enough how ridiculously bang on this movie is in terms of everything.

The team put in so much work, and it paid off. To me, at least.

I don't feel like Miles is some kid from a different alternative New York. I feel like he's a real kid in MY New York. From everything down to his Jordans (don't even get me started on how much Jordan's has a CHOKEHOLD on teenagers in New York. Like...it's a status thing. Even since I was a kid, everyone wanted Jordans. Jordans or Nike Air Force 1s. So having Miles wear Jordans is my favorite thing cause yea a kid from BedStuy would think those are flyest shit ever even though they're just regular degular Jordans lol. And you KNOW Miles 42 a sneakerhead. Look at those shoes. He aint creasing those)

This movie, is chef's kiss. It tops all other New York portrays - live-action or otherwise and I stand on that.

If you read this far, thank you SO much. I love sharing New York culture (and the cultures that make it what it is to begin with) and I'm SO happy I can share this stuff and hopefully help people appreciate the movie more too!

If you learned something or have any questions, I'm all ears!

And I usually leave a photo of Hobie here as a send-off but this post hit the photo limit LMAOOOOOO

Bye.