#and which i need to do really well on because i got a 70 on the last one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

espinosaurusrexex · 8 months ago

Text

Remember Me

WinterSoldier!BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader

summary: After a fight against the most notorious Hydra agent of all, Steve and you discover that your assumed diseased friend Bucky is still alive. Old wounds resurface as you are confronted with the grappling reality that you have lived vastly different lives for the past 70 years. Will he remember your shared history? And most importantly: does he still feel the same?

word count: 3.1k

a/n: Just a short piece that I managed to finish. I know it's not a lot, but I hope you enjoy anyway 💕

warnings: a bunch of fluff and angst, mentions of war, mentions of sexism, swearing, Bucky is really broken in this one, happy ending (:

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

“Proceed with caution, unidentified shooter on bridge. I repeat: unidentified shooter. It is not clear what the motive is. Take cover and shoot on sight.”

“Dispatch, this is Captain America - we’ll take it from here.”

“With all due respect, Cap, I will keep my men on site to keep your cover.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Least I can do for you, sir.”

“Stop chatting it up with the police and do your job, Rogers.”

“Alright, alright.”

You chuckled and turned to Tony. “How long are we out?”

“Three minutes, 46 seconds.”

“You gonna survive that long, Stevie?”

“That guy’s got a good aim on him, gotta give him that.”

Muffled noises pushed through your earpiece before you stepped into the back of the Quinjet to gear up.

“Can’t let him do anything. It’s one guy they’re fighting... one.”

“Yeah, one Hydra-trained assassin who’s apparently immortal and got more deaths on his record than Romanoff.”

You huffed as the meeting recollected in your mind. The Winter Soldier had been the newest pain in the Avenger’s asses ever since you discovered that Hydra was still operating in the shadows of S.H.I.E.L.D.

“They’re just making a show out of everything, huh?”

You strapped your gloves over your wrists and watched as Tony chuckled in the pilot seat. You and him had become good friends over the past few years. Ever since you and Steve had been discovered in the frozen airship of what you had thought to be your last mission about 70 years ago, you and Captain America had woken up in a vastly different world. One through which Howard’s son, Tony, gladly guided you.

Both you and Steve were overwhelmed by the amount of changes the world had endured while you had soundly served your time as human popsicles, though Captain America seemed to struggle a little more with 21st-century technology and norms.

It was fine, Steve had always been a little old-fashioned, even back in the day. You for one were delighted to learn about all the opportunities the world had to offer for women and other people who couldn’t have dreamed of any in the 40s. Because while Steve was celebrated for being the face of hope for the American people, you were still dodging snide comments doubting your place in the Army. And while you tried not to let anyone see the toll it took on you, it was the reason for enough nights you spent with Peggy sharing stories over a bottle of wine.

You both decided the important men in your life should never find out. Though, of course, your not-so-secret didn’t stay hidden from Bucky for long. Which was one of the reasons you had jumped on that plane with Steve. Even when Bucky was already dead. Even when Steve was still oblivious. You constantly needed to prove yourself. But this one time, it had actually changed something – well, time had.

You shook your head free of that thought and walked towards the cargo hatch. Tony had landed the Quinjet – it was go time.

“Ready?”

“That guy won’t know what happened to him when we’re done with him.”

“Let’s rock his world, then,” Tony winked before his helmet closed and he flew out of the jet. You were close behind him, running the short distance from the ramp to the bridge from which you swung yourself off with a grappling hook.

“What’s the status?”

“I’ve been shot.”

“I’ve got it, Bearcat check on Steve. He looks ridiculously helpless.”

“Roger that,” you sprinted towards the two fighting men on the street, as the Winter soldier threw Steve to the ground, his shield nowhere to be seen.

“Okay, my turn.” You stepped in front of him, analyzing his movements, and dodging punches, trying to get some in yourself.

“Oh come on, that’s not fair.” You huffed when he took a knife out of your leg holster and almost acrobatically threw it over your head just to graze your cheek with the blade.

He had knocked off your guns at this point, leaving you with choking wire and some smaller daggers in your jacket. When he turned the right angle, you jumped his shoulders and locked your thighs around his neck, kicking the knife out of his hand and watching as he ripped your choking wire in half. Damn.

“Now, that’s not nice.” You threw the torn metal to the side as The winter soldier struggled to get you off him. A look to Steve told you he had a new plan, and with a short nod, you signaled your understanding to him.

“But if you wanna be like that...” Steve threw you his shield and in a swift motion you managed to drag it over the soldier's head. He pushed his metal arm forward just in time, though your hit had already knocked the mask off his face.

When the shield came down, you heard Steve’s footsteps halt next to you, the world going quiet.

Your stomach churned when you watched blue eyes twitch between the dark smudges. Familiar and oh-so strange at the same time.

“Bucky?” Steve stammered, and at the sound of his name, goosebumps rippled over your skin.

The Winter Soldier’s look darkened before he reached for a gun. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

From then on, the day seemed like a blur. You remembered Sam knocking Bucky down and the lot of you flying back to the compound on standby. Steve was functioning a lot better than you were, considering the man you thought to be dead for over 70 years was currently handcuffed to a handrail on your jet.

James “Bucky” fucking Barnes. Captain America’s best friend, founding member of the howling commandos, infamous war hero apparently turned assassin, and the man who stole your heart somewhere along the way.

You dared a glance at the chained-up, unconscious brunette in the corner as Steve sat down next to you, a calming hand squeezing your shoulder.

“Can I get you anything?”

You ignored him. “How are you not freaking out?” You whispered through glassy eyes instead.

Steve’s expression softened when he pulled you into his chest, his other hand pressing your head further into him. His heart was hammering beneath his ribcage, his fingers cold to the touch.

“I am. Just trying to be a captain.” His voice was strained when he mumbled into your hair.

You just nodded in understanding, finding comfort in the fact you weren’t the only one feeling this way.

❁ ❁ ❁

You watched him through the glass of the interrogation room with your arms crossed before your chest. Buck was sitting at the table, his head hung low, his dark hair falling in wet stands into his face. He didn’t move a muscle. For half an eternity, he stared at the table his wrists were chained to, almost statue-like. But when he finally looked up, you could see the confusion and nervousness in his ocean-blue eyes.

They had given him time to recover, to shower, and feel like a human again. They forced him into normal clothes and offered him a bed to sleep. But it wasn’t enough. The man you were looking at was terrified and lost - exhausted and overwhelmed.

Bucky visibly tensed when the door opened and Steve stepped into his sight. They spent the next hour reconstructing his past. Steve told him how he had ended up in the 21st century and by the end of their conversations, the tension was a lot less static.

“She’s alive,” Bucky stated and tore his eyes away from Steve to look at the one-way glass.

“She’s a tough one. Survived the crash without super soldier serum and came out of the ice just as unharmed as I did.”

“What are the odds?” Bucky chuckled bitterly. “What are the fucking odds we all end up together again?”

Steve only gifted his friend a sympathetic smile along with a squeeze to his shoulder. “Take it as a chance.”

“Feels like a punishment.”

They were locking eyes and even though you were watching the interaction from the outside, you could feel the atmosphere turn somber. The men were staring at each other in silence for a while, though you knew there was an entire discussion happening in their eyes.

“Does she... does she want to see me?” Bucky’s voice was hesitant and broken. And you couldn’t help but somehow imagine a different question nestled in his words.

You almost had to stop yourself from touching the glass with your hands, wanting to tell him that you were already seeing him - really seeing him.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Steve stood and with a last smile to Bucky, he exited the room.

This was it. The door was open. The love of your life sitting only a few feet from it. Though it seemed like he was trapped inside another’s body.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Steve murmured as he stood in the doorway looking at you by the window. And you just nodded, trying to suppress your pulse rushing in your ears.

“Thanks.” It was only a whisper. You weren’t used to your voice being this small. And Steve didn’t seem so either. He was looking at you with sad eyes, fists clenched by his sides. There was nothing he could do to make you feel better. Not this time. And he seemed to know so. With one last tight smile, he sent a short nod your way and then left.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky didn’t look at you when you finally built up the courage to step inside his room. He was much bigger than you remembered. Thick muscles adorned his arms and shoulders. Shaggy, longer hair fell from his head and over his scrunched brows. His left arm was entirely of metal, a red star reminding him who had taken claim to him several decades ago.

If you hadn’t known, the man before you had almost no resemblance to the soldier you loved in 1941. He had been lean and full of life. He was broken now. And you were terrified someone had taken the very thing from him that would keep him from becoming himself again.

Without a word you approached Bucky, cupped his hands with yours, and undid the restraints that tied him to the table. And this was the first time he looked at you. Really looked at you. Bucky’s piercing blue stare was full of awe and sorrow, a deep pain etched beneath the grey flecks within the vibrant color.

You sat down beside him.

“Hey.” Your voice was shaky, dragging a long silence in its wake that only made your heart beat faster.

“Hello,” Bucky finally whispered, breaking the spell. His voice was a raw timbre, like a long-forgotten melody. And so much more tangible now that you weren’t listening to it through a speaker.

But that was it. Neither of you spoke afterward.

There was so much that could have been said, so much that could have been exchanged, known, explored about the other. And yet it didn’t feel like any of the words known to you were enough to break the static tension in the room. You were just looking at Bucky, scanning every part of his body like it was a flash card for the most important test of your life.

So, here you were: With the opportunity of a lifetime right at your fingertips and the confidence of a kicked puppy settled deep in your wounded soul. The person you had known for the longest looked so timid as if he were looking at a stranger. Not that he had ever been shy about strangers back in the day. But this was different. This was strange and beautiful, and scary, and exciting. No book in the world held the answers as to what to do in this situation.

And the solution was so easy: you just had to say something. So why didn’t your damn mouth open?

The speaker above your heads crackled and then Tony’s voice rang through the room. And for the first time in what felt like hours, a tiny bit of the weight on your shoulders lifted with it. “Bearcat, If you don’t open your mouth and put the guy out of his misery in 5 seconds, I’ll personally mediate this incredibly static confrontation.”

You rolled your eyes and then glared at the mirror, knowing full well Tony was watching you despite your asking him to leave. You mouthed a ‘shut it’ towards the glass and then turned in shock when a familiar voice rose from the silence.”

“Bearcat?”

You stared at Bucky with soft eyes. There was an innocence in the way he slowly guided this conversation - almost like he’d always had. It was an easy question, a nice entry to the heavier stuff that was bound to be discussed.

And just as you began to explain, it dawned on you how much you had missed about each other. How differently your life could have been if it weren’t for the cruel turn of fate.

“When Steve and I were discovered, S.H.I.E.L.D. was our home for a long time. They tried to put us in apartments, even set us up with chaperones to guide us through the new century.” Bucky looked intrigued, even leaning forth as he listened intently. You wondered if he ever realized how much time had passed when he was the winter soldier... if anyone ever cared to tell him. “But it wasn’t until I met Natasha that I felt like I had arrived. She showed me so many things and trained with me until I became an agent here. Howard’s son came up with the nickname. He reminds me of him.” You smiled and shook your head “He’s a pain in my ass but a genius that can be genuinely helpful even though I don’t want to admit it at times. I haven’t grasped the explanation fully, but apparently, my fast learning and efficiency when it came to fighting reminded him of one of those small powerful fighter jets that were finished just after the war.” You chuckled at the memory before your eyes found Becky’s again only to see pain all over his face.

A silent tear rolled down his cheek and hit the floor before you could see it stain his skin. “I'm so sorry.” His voice was shaking, his body trying to make itself smaller but failing miserably with all the muscle surrounding it. He took up the room and your heart right along with it.

“Hey you have nothing to apologize for, you hear me.” You cradled his face and his hands instantly covered yours, only for his metal one to retract just as fast again. He was sorrowful and it made your heart ache.

“You’ve been navigating through so much alone and this is yet another thing you had to do without me.” He confessed through his tears and squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn’t changed within - always caring for everyone around him and never putting himself first.

“I’m fine. Was then and am now.” You ensured him. “If you want to worry about someone, take Steve. He’s a lot more overwhelmed than I am.” Bucky chuckled through his tears, a deep seriousness settling in his eyes. “If anything, I’m sorry we didn’t save you sooner.”

He shook his head. “You couldn’t have known.” And there it was: a glimpse of the loving, caring, charming man you’d known so many years ago. A small smile snuck onto your face at the revelation and a spark of hope shot through your body.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” you confessed, "We never had the time to actually be just us. To live all the dreams we shared back then.”

Bucky's eyes were full of sorrow before he closed them and pressed his forehead to yours. “I wish I could say I missed you,” he whispered and slung his arm around you, “But I didn’t remember.”

“And that’s not your fault, you hear me.” Your hand stroked over his damp hair, pulling it back and making Bucky look at you again. “None of this is your fault. Don’t you ever doubt yourself. What happened to you is horrible. And I vow to kill every single person responsible for keeping us apart for this long. But not once will anyone ever consider this your fault.”

Bucky averted his eyes and turned his head but you were quick to catch his face with your hand. “Promise me you won’t beat yourself up. Please. That’s all I ask of you. Let Steve and me handle the rest and focus on becoming comfortable in your skin again. I can’t wait to meet the man you can become.”

“You don’t want to know me, doll. Not anymore. Even if it wasn’t my fault, it changed me. I’m not the man you-“ he stopped talking as you watched regret flash over his features. “I don’t think I can give you what you deserve.”

“I don’t care what I deserve, Bucky. I want you. I always have and that won’t change because some bullies tried to brainwash you. The very fact that we are here talking like this shows how much stronger you are than them. How the good in you never wavered.”

“But I can’t even trust myself. How can I expect you to do so of me?”

You cradled his head harsher as you felt your own tears roll down your cheek. “All I need is for you to try and trust me. We’ll figure this out... like we always do.”

Bucky’s flesh hand had fallen to your thigh, a soft thumb stroking over your leg and he watched the movement in awe. You didn’t know how long it had been since he had last felt comfort but you were determined to make up for all the lost time. With the wild beating of your heart, you took his metal hand and laved your fingers with his, watching as Bucky’s eyes glued to your smaller hand in his. There was no fear of what could happen, no aversion towards the alien element attached to his body. And then, finally, he encased your hand with his silver fingers.

Your other hand still stroked his cheek and you waited until he caught your gaze again. And once he did, you did not hesitate to slowly push your lips to his.

Just a short, sweet kiss. One that held more words than you could ever say. And then you waited. What for? Maybe a rejection, the shake of his head, or the sheer confidence with which he used to kiss you decades back.

Bucky’s breaths were shaky, his hands still touching you and sending softly timid comfort through your body. He held your gaze for a second... and then, he finally kissed you back.

please consider showing this post some love if you liked it 💛

Wanna be added to the taglist?

@circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200 @buckyseddie @adoreyouusugar @km-ffluv @mcu21lover19 @pigeonmama @wilsons-striped-ties @almosttoopizza @sociallyimpairedme @royalwritersoftheuniverses @i-l-y-3000 @mrsgweasley @prettylittlepluviophile @dinwifey @stuckysgirl27 @wintermischief @supersecretblogformytreasures @broadwaybabe18 @fridayiaminlove @buckybarnessimpp @goodkittyspost @justafangirl @simpxinnie @bisexual-buckyfan @blackhawkfanatic @augustbucky @kandis-mom @harleycao @ashhsage @hhiggs @scott-loki-barnes @gabshouse @i-spy-1812 @barnes1031 @am-3-thyst @awkotaco24 @star-buck-barnes @armystay89 @missaprilt23 @rexit-mo

634 notes · View notes

asthedeathoflight · 4 months ago

Text

I do think 70s devils minion adds a whole layer to Daniel and Armand's relationship that we're not really taking into account enough bc while it does kind of technically happen in canon (that they break up and then get back together) we never actually get to SEE them when they're back together and so its not really taken into consideration for their dynamic.

But like Armand is someone who has for his entire life been another person's possession, who has defined himself as a person that people Have instead of Love. And what the Queen of the Damned chapter shows is Daniel Molloy as someone who Armand wanted to possess and who wanted to be possessed by Armand. Armand has never owned anything in his entire 500 year life and so he NEEDS to own Daniel, he needs to have just this ONE THING to himself after all this time. And Daniel for his part is very into being so consumed by another person. For a time, Daniel is exactly what Armand needs. Here is a person who cannot hurt him, who wants to belong to him, who he can finally assert authority over and in doing so assert his own independence. Nobody in Armand's life has ever been truly HIS in the way that Daniel is.

But the longer theyre together the less urgent the need to possess and control is, and the more Armand is able to love Daniel selflessly, the more they come into conflict because Daniel still WANTS that level of obsession. Their breakup in the books is inevitable because their relationship was built on impulses that, while important stages in their growth, over time became unhealthy. Daniel needs to get out of his cycle of addiction and Armand needs to grow past needing to possess people to believing they'll stay of their own free will. So they need to break up.

BUT unlike in the books where Armand's resolve ultimately fails him and he turns Daniel anyways, cementing the both of them into both of their unhealthiest habits, show Armand manages to work through his issues to the next stage of his growth: that he needs to let Daniel go. And he does! He lets Daniel go and he bears the burden of their relationship alone for 50 years so that Daniel could not only have a human life but also develop as a person in a way he never could have if he stayed with Armand. Show Daniel is a different man from 70s/book Daniel. He knows who he is. Even though he's falling back into old patterns now that he's a vampire he's still been through this cycle a few times and hes stronger now than he would have been if he was turned when he was 30.

I think, assuming devils minion did happen in the 70s, the present Daniel/Armand dynamic will be different from what we're expecting because they've finally grown enough as people so that they can come together on equal footing which is really important bc Armand has never been someone's equal in a relationship before! This is new territory for him! So I think their relationship has potential for development of both of them as characters to places they never got to go in the books. Please note that this is NOT me saying they will have a perfectly well adjusted healthy relationship I just think that this is the next step past their old dynamic and probably will be more dangerous for other people than it is for them which is always a win.

#also sorry daniel/marius fans but i do think that the 50 year timeskip eliminated the necessity for daniel to ever hang out with marius #iwtv #interview with the vampire #devils minion #armand #benni proof #blorboposting

271 notes · View notes

tavolgisvist · 2 months ago

Text

Paul and Ringo's conflict in 1969/70

SG: Then, what happened? You finally got to meet with John and Yoko, and there was an all-night session at the Dorchester hotel. And something happened in that all-night session at the Dorchester that totally won their allegiance to you. AK: John said, listen, the Beatles are represented by the Eastmans, will you represent me and Yoko? SG: The Beatles’ legal affairs were represented by the Eastmans? AK: You see, you have to read that piece of paper. SG: The piece of paper the Eastmans had with the boys? AK: Oh yes. All signed. SG: All of them signed it? AK: Yes. And Apple. It never used the word management, but it didn’t have to. If you represent all the negotiations throughout the world of Apple and the Beatles, you have it. The import of that particular piece of document was that everything would have to flow through them.

(Allen Klein, 1980, interview with Peter Brown and Steven Gaines, All You Need Is Love, 2024)

John comes into the office and says, ‘Don’t care about the others, don’t give a shit … but I’m having Klein, he can have all of my stuff and get it sorted out.’

(Derek Taylor, As Time Goes By, 1973)

AK: …We were just trying to get to know one another… Lennon and Yoko, I would rather not say what won them over for me. I would think that a principal thing was the fact that they really wanted someone for themselves. Apart from the Beatles. That’s really what it was. John is a very practical human being and the conflict was there, and it was his band and he was losing control, and he didn’t want to. He wanted to be protected. It was as simple as that. That first evening that I met with John, he said, “Do you want to represent us?” I said yeah.

(Allen Klein, 1980, interview with Peter Brown and Steven Gaines, All You Need Is Love, 2024)

When the four of us entered into our partnership agreement in 1967, we did not consider the exact wording or give any thought to the agreement's legal implications. We had thought that if one of us wanted to leave the group he would only have to say so. On the way in which the four of us had sorted out our differences in the past, I deny that it had been on a three-to-one basis. If one disagreed, we discussed the problem until we reached agreement or let the matter drop. I know of no decision taken on a three-to-one basis. I deny that the Eastmans and I obstructed Mr. Allen Klein in the preparation of accounts. Nor had the Eastmans been contenders for the job of manager for the group. I wanted them as managers but when the rest of the group disagreed, had not pressed the matter. Mr. Lennon had challenged my statement that Mr. Klein had sowed discord within the group, but I recall a telephone conversation in which Mr. Klein had told me, "You know why John is angry with you? It is because you came off better than he did on Let It Be.' Mr. Klein also said to me, 'The real trouble is Yoko. She is the one with ambition.' I often wonder what John would have said if he heard the remark.

(From Paul McCartney’s affidavit, Feb 26 1971, The Beatles Diary. Volume 2. After The Break Up. 1970-2001. Keith Badman)

I was very upset when they said I was just trying to bring in Lee Eastman, because he’s my in-law. As if I’d just bring in a member of the family, for no reason. They’d known me twenty years, yet they thought that. I couldn’t believe it. John said, ‘Magical Mystery Tour was just a big ego trip for Paul.’ God. It was for their sake, to keep us together, keep us going, give us something new to do…

(Paul McCartney, Private Call with Hunter Davies, May 1981)

Klein keeps saying that I don’t like him because I want Eastman to manage the Beatles,’ he said. ‘Well, this is how it really happened. I thought, and still think, that Linda’s father would have been good for us all. And I decided I wanted him. But all the others wanted Klein. Well, all right, they can have Klein, but I don’t see that I have to agree with them. ‘I don’t think I need a manager in the old sense that Brian Epstein was our manager. All I want are paid advisers, who will do what I want them to do. And that’s what I’ve got. If the others want Klein, well, that’s up to them, but I’ve never signed a contract with him. He doesn’t represent me. I’m sure Eastman is better for me.

(Paul McCartney, interview, Evening Standard, April 21-22, 1970)

In fact, there was one classic little meeting when we were recording Abbey Road. It was a Friday evening session, and I was sitting there, and I’d heard a rumor from Neil or someone that there was something funny going around. So we got to the session, and Klein came in. To me, he was like a sort of demon that would always haunt my dreams. He got to me. Really, it was like I’d been dreaming of him as a dentist. He came round to the session, and he said, “I gotta have this thing signed, I gotta get you guys on a contract,” and then so I said, “Wait a minute, c’mon, it’s Friday night, what’s the hurry? Give us the thing over the weekend, and we’ll let ya know Monday?” Fair enough? And everyone said, “Uh-huh, there he goes.” ... John said, “Oh, fucking hell, here you go, stalling again.” I said, “I’m not stalling, I want it checked out. It’s a big movement, going with a new manager, you know, and maybe we don’t want to go with this guy. What’s the hurry? Why can’t he wait?”

(Paul McCartney, 1980 - All You Need Is Love: The End of the Beatles by Peter Brown and Steven Gaines, 2024)

‘Security is the only thing I want. Money to do nothing with, money to have in case you wanted to do something.’

(Paul McCartney (1964) in Love Me Do! The Beatles’ Progress by Michael Braun, 1964/1995)

They said, “Oh no, typical of you, all that stalling and what. Got to do it now.” I said, “Well, I’m not going to. I demand at least the weekend. I’ll look at it, and on Monday. This is supposed to be a recording session, after all.” I dug me heels in, and they said, right, well, we’re going to vote it. I said, “No, you’ll never get Ringo to.” I looked at Ringo, and he kind of gave me this sick look like, Yeah, I’m going with them.Then I said, “Well, this is like bloody Julius Caesar, and I’m being stabbed in the back!” It’s the first time you realize in our whole relationship that whenever we voted, we never actually had come to that point before—three were going to vote one down. That was the first time, and they all signed it, they didn’t need my signature.

(Paul McCartney, 1980 - All You Need Is Love: The End of the Beatles by Peter Brown and Steven Gaines, 2024)

Steve Miller happened to be there recording, late at night, and he just breezed in. ‘Hey, what’s happening, man? Can I use the studio?’ ‘Yeah!’ I said. ‘Can I drum for you? I just had a fucking unholy argument with the guys there.’ I explained it to him, took ten minutes to get it off my chest. So I did a track, he and I stayed that night and did a track of his called My Dark Hour. I thrashed everything out on the drums. There’s a surfeit of aggressive drum fills, that’s all I can say about that. We stayed up until late. I played bass, guitar and drums and sang backing vocals. It’s actually a pretty good track. It was a very strange time in my life and I swear I got my first grey hairs that month. I saw them appearing. I looked in the mirror, I thought, I can see you. You’re all coming now. Welcome.

(Paul McCartney in Many Years From Now by Barry Miles, 1997)

The nature of The Beatles’ management deal with Allen Klein remains a source of annoyance to McCartney: “I kept saying, ‘Don’t give Allen Klein 20 per cent, give him 15, we’re a big act!’ And everyone’s going, ‘No, no, he wants 20 per cent’. I say, ‘Of course he does, he wants 30, really, but give him 15. It’s like buying a car. You don’t give the guy what he asks for.’ But it was impossible in the end, because it became three to one and I was like the idiot in the corner – trying, I thought, to save the situation.” “And to Klein it looked like I was trying to screw the situation. He used to call me the Reluctant Virgin. I said ‘Fuck off, I don’t want to fucking marry you, that’s all.’ He’s going, ‘Oh, you know, he may, maybe he will, will he, won’t he, that’s a definite maybe.’

(Paul McCartney, Dec 2003, interview with Paul Du Noyer for The Word)

Q: He was once quoted in New York magazine as saying he was going to roast your ass. А: Yeah, well, he never did, you know, and that’s cool. He wouldn’t get near my ass to roast it, anyway. Punk.

(Paul McCartney, Jan 1974, interview with Paul Gambaccini for Rolling Stone)

[Allen] Klein came to London with the sole objective of closing the deal, and having had an unsuccessful meeting with Paul in the morning, he left for Heathrow to return home to New York. Paul and I were working together in Olympic that afternoon, and there was a noticeable sense of relief when he heard that Klein had left for the airport. However, Klein had second thoughts about leaving and decided to have one more attempt at changing Paul’s mind face-to-face. Unannounced, Klein walked into the studio, and very quickly it became apparent that as voices were raised a private conversation was taking place. I turned off all the mics in the room and left them to it. The control room of a studio is isolated from the recording room where the musicians play, but even all that acoustic treatment was not enough to prevent me hearing Paul McCartney defend himself against Allen Klein’s attempt at bullying him into submission. It was extremely unpleasant to witness.

(Glyn Johns, Sound Man: A Life Recording Hits with the Rolling Stones, the Who, Led Zeppelin, the Eagles, Eric Clapton, the Faces…, 2014)

I never much liked authority. I didn't like school teachers or critics telling me what I could do. Or myself telling me. I'm alive - do it!

(Paul McCartney, March 2001, interview with Nicci Gerrard for the Observer)

And the thing is, of course, you know that when you’ve got a daddy, it is nice. If you’re a little bit sort of worried as to what to do next, and your daddy says, [claps hands] “What are you worried about? Hey John, what do you want, son? You want a house? [claps hands] You got it.”

(Paul McCartney, November 11th, 1971, interview with Chris Charlesworth for Melody Maker)

They talk Klein’s script. John Lennon once said to Allen Klein, “So what do I do now, Allen?” You know, I mean, these are all – I’d say there are certain little things, you know, and… brought together in one big thing, it does look a bit sort of heavily that way. It’s not [inaudible]. But it’s all true, you know. It’s not… John did say that. And it indicates something that he’s just turned to Allen and said, “Well, what do I do now?” And that’s the kind of role that Klein is playing for them all now.

(Paul McCartney, November 11th, 1971, interview with Chris Charlesworth for Melody Maker)

The build-up is the thing — All these things continuously happening making me feel like I’m a junior with the record company, like Klein is the boss and I’m nothing. Well, I’m a senior. I figure my opinion is as good as anyone’s, especially when it’s my thing. And it’s emotional. You feel like you don’t have any freedom. I figured I’d have to stand up for myself eventually or get pushed under.

(Paul McCartney, 1970, interview with Richard Merryman for Life Magazine, published in April 16 1971)

When the Beatles were falling apart in 1969, he suffered from depression – staying in bed, forgoing shaving, drinking too much, taking consolation in little beyond his marriage to Linda Eastman.

(Paul McCartney, Nov 2013, interview with Jonah Weiner for Rolling Stones)

PAUL: As far as I was concerned, yeah, I would have liked the Beatles never to have broken up. I wanted to get us back on the road doing small places, then move up to our previous form and then go and play. Just make music, and whatever else there was would be secondary. But it was John who didn’t want to. He had told Allen Klein the new manager he and Yoko had picked late one night that he didn’t want to continue. … PAUL: And he said, “I wasn’t going to tell you until after I signed the Capitol thing, but I’m leaving the group.” And that was really it. The cat amongst the pigeons. … PAUL: We weren’t going to say anything about it for months, for business reasons. But the really hurtful thing to me was that John was really not going to tell us. I think he was heavily under the influence of Allen Klein. And Klein, so I heard, had said to John – the first time anyone had said it – “What does Yoko want?” So since Yoko liked Klein because he was for giving Yoko anything she wanted, he was the man for John. That’s my theory on how it happened.

(Paul and Linda McCartney, interview for Playboy, December 1984)

For the first time in my life, I was on the scrap heap, in my own eyes. An unemployed worker might have said, “Hey, you still have the money. That’s not as bad as we have it.” But to me, it didn’t have anything to do with money. It was just the feeling, the terrible disappointment of not being of any use to anyone anymore. It was a barreling, empty feeling that just rolled across my soul, and it was… I’d never experienced it before. Drugs had shown me little bits here and there – they had rolled across the carpet once or twice, but I had been able to get them out of my mind. In this case, the end of the Beatles, I really was done in for the first time in my life. Until then, I really was a kind of cocky sod. It was the first time I’d had a major blow to my confidence. When my mother died, I don’t think my confidence suffered. It had been a terrible blow, but I didn’t feel it was my fault.

(Paul and Linda McCartney, interview for Playboy, December 1984)

“At a certain point I asked myself, ‘Are you going to sit around doing nothing, or are you going to make some music again?’ So I’d be at home sitting around, doing something on guitar, and Linda would say, ‘Oh, I didn’t know you could do that!’ Then I’d be drumming – ‘I didn’t know you could do that!’ So I got back into it just to impress Linda, really. I wanted to prove my usefulness again.”

(Paul McCartney, Nov 2013, interview with Jonah Weiner for Rolling Stones)

"The thing about Paul," George says, "is that apart from the personal problem of it all, he's having a wonderful time. He's going riding and he's got horses and he's got a farm in Scotland and he's happier with his family. And I can dig that."

(George Harrison, 1970, interview with Al Aronowitz)

Paul was already thinking about recording again. Never happy unless he was making music andwiththe Beatles not functioning, probably extinct, Paul began recording tracks for a solo album… Paul had been given a release date by Neil Aspinall [April 10, 1970 at first and April 17 later when Paul agreed to one week delay for help sales of Ringo Starr’s album “Sentimental Journey“, scheduled to be released on March 27] and he built the project around meeting the various deadlines that entailed: handing in a final mix tape, designing and proofing the cover art, approving test pressings and so on. Working with the artist Gordon House and the designer Roger Huggett, whom he still uses, Paul and Linda put the entire thing together at home. Paul: "I was feeling quite comfortable, the more I went on like this. I could actually do something again. Then I rang up Apple one day and said, "Still okay for the release date?" and they said, "No, we're changing it. You got put back now. We're going to release Let It Be first.""

(Paul McCartney, Many Years From Now by Barry Miles)

GEORGE: "But it's more of a personal thing, you know. That's down to the management situation, you know, with Apple. Because Paul, really - It was his idea to do Apple, and once it started going Paul was very active in there. And then it got really chaotic and we had to do something about it. When we started doing something about it, obviously Paul didn't have as much say in the matter, and then he decided… you know, because he wanted Lee Eastman his in-laws to run it and we didn't. Then that's the only reason, you know. That's the whole basis. But that's only a personal problem that he'll have to get over because that's… The reality is that he's out-voted and we're a partnership. We've got these companies which we all own 25 percent of each, and if there's a decision to be made then, like in any other business or group you have a vote, you know. And he was out-voted 3 to 1 and if he doesn't like it, it's really a pity…"

(George Harrison, May 1th 1970, interview with Howard Smith at WABC-FM radio in New York City)

Paul: They eventually sent Ringo round to my house at Cavendish with a message: "We want you to put your release date back, it's for the good of the group" and all of this sort of shit, and he was giving me the party line, they just made him come round, so I did something I'd never done before, or since: I told him to get out. I had to do something like that in order to assert myself because I was just sinking. Linda was very helpful, she was saying, "Look, you don't have to take this crap, you're a grown man, you have every bit as much right …" I was getting pummelled about the head, in my mind anyway.

(Paul McCartney, Many Years From Now by Barry Miles)

Dear Paul, we thought a lot about yours and the Beatles LPs – and decided it’s stupid for Apple to put out two big albums within 7 days of each other (also there’s Ringo’s and Hey Jude) – so we sent a letter to EMI telling them to hold your release date til June 4th (there’s a big Apple-Capitol convention in Hawaii then). We thought you’d come round when you realized that the Beatles album was coming out on April 24th. We’re sorry it turned out like this – it’s nothing personal. Love John & George. Hare Krishna. A Mantra a Day Keeps MAYA Away.

(The letter from John and George to Paul, March 31th, 1970)

As a director of Apple, he had had to sign a letter that he wrote with John ordering Paul not to release his McCartney album on a day that would conflict with the release of the next Beatles record, Let It Be. When the letter was finished, Ringo had volunteered to deliver it because he didn't want Paul to suffer the indignity of having it handed to him by some impersonal messenger. At Paul's house, he gave the letter to Paul and said, "I agree with it."

(George Harrison, 1970, interview with Al Aronowitz)

“I went to see Paul. To my dismay, he went completely out of control, shouting at me, prodding his fingers towards my face, saying: 'I’ll finish you now’ and 'You’ll pay.’ He told me to put my coat on and get out. I did so.”

(Ringo, during 1971 Beatles court proceedings)

Ringo Starr said in his statement: “Paul is the greatest bass guitarist in the world.” But he added that he thought Paul had behaved like a spoiled child.

(Daily Mirror, February 24, 1971 - about the third day of the Court Case for the dissolution of The Beatles’ contractual partnership)

Then he had to stand there while both Paul and his wife, Linda, screamed at him. When Ringo returned from delivering the letter, he was so drained his face was white.

(George Harrison, 1970, interview with Al Aronowitz)

[John Lennon and George Harrison] didn’t send me round. They, as directors of the company, wrote a letter to him, and I didn’t think it was fair that some office lad should take something like that around. I was talking to the office, and they were telling me what was going on, and I said, ‘Send it up, I’ll take it round’. I couldn’t fear him then. But he got angry, because we were asking him to hold his album back and the album was very important to him. He shouted and pointed at me. He told me to get out of his house. He was crazy; he went crazy. He was out of control, prodding his finger towards my face. He told me to put my coat on and get out. I couldn’t believe it was happening. I had just brought the letter. I said, ‘I agree with everything that’s in the letter’, because we tried to work it like a company, not as individuals. I put my album [Sentimental Journey] out two weeks before [released 27 March 1970, in compliance with the original schedule], which makes me seem like such a good guy, but it wasn’t really, because I needed to put it out before Paul’s album, else it would have slayed me!

(Ringo Starr, 1971, from “The Beatles: Off the Record” by Keith Badman)

‘Strictly speaking we all have to ask each other’s permission before any of us does anything without the other three. My own record nearly didn’t come out because Klein and some of the others thought it would be too near to the date of the next Beatles album. I had to get George, who’s a director of Apple, to authorise its release for me. ‘Give us our freedom which we so richly deserve.

(Paul McCartney, April 21-22, 1970, Interview for the Evening Standard)

On the radio, they're playing Paul's album now. George may be the youngest of the Beatles but his attitude toward Paul is the same as a big brother trying to wait out a kid's tantrum because the kid can't get the candy he wants. He talks about the last time Paul spoke to him on the phone. "He came on like Attila the Hun," George says. "I had to hold the receiver away from my ear." It was as if the whole world was waiting for Paul's album and George was standing in its way. "I don't want to say anything bad about Paul," George laughs, "but I can be egged on."

(George Harrison, 1970, interview with Al Aronowitz)

From my point of view, I was getting done in. All the decisions were now three against one. And that’s not the easiest position if you’re the one: anything I wanted to do they could just say, ‘No.’ And it was just to be awkward, I thought. … I got so fed up with all this I said, ‘OK, I want to get off the label.’ Apple Records was a lovely dream, but I thought, ‘Now this is really trashy and I want to get off.’ I remember George on the phone saying to me, ‘You’ll stay on this fucking label! Hare Krishna!’ and he hung up – and I went, ‘Oh, dear me. This is really getting hairy.’

(Paul McCartney, The Beatles Anthology, 2000)

PAUL: I didn't want to do a press conference to launch the album because whenever I'd meet a journalist, they always floored me with one question: they'd say, "Are you happy?"' and it almost made me cry. I just could not say, "Yes. I'm happy," and lie through my teeth, so I stopped doing interviews. Peter Brown, who was at Apple at that time, said, "What are you going to do about publicity?"' I said, "I don't really want to do any." He said, "It's a new album. You'll kill it. Nobody'll even know it's out at all. You should do something." I said "Well, how do you suggest we do it?"' He said, "Maybe a questionnaire?"' I said, "Okay, look, you write some questions that you think the press wants to know. Send 'em over to me and I'll fill it out but I can't face a press conference." So the questionnaire came, and Peter Brown realised that the big question was the Beatles so he put in a couple of loaded questions and rather that just say, "I don't want to answer these," I thought, Fuck it. If that's what he wants to know, I'll tell him. I felt I'd never be able to start a new life until I'd told people.

(Paul McCartney, Many Years From Now by Barry Miles)

It is 1970. Paul still doesn’t like Klein but John digs him more than ever and George digs him more than that and Ringo doesn’t mind him. Paul? He is so uptight about Klein he only leaves the Beatles, that’s all. Klein and me meet the press and TV and all that; together we sit on a sofa and talk about Paul. Mr Klein, why doesn’t Paul like you? Mr Taylor, why doesn’t Paul like Mr Klein? I don’t know, don’t ask me, man, don’t ask me. Paul releases his album and Klein releases the Beatles’ album and they both make a million and Klein has had Phil Spector remix Paul’s song ‘The Long and Winding Road’, adding a women’s choir and some violins etc. Paul thinks this is the shittiest thing anyone has ever done to him and that is saying something, but Klein laughs up his silk sleeve and releases ‘Long and Winding Road’ as a single anyway and still with Phil’s new arrangement. Up there in Scotland, Paul McCartney, one of the four owners of Apple, the company formed to give total freedom, artistic control, to struggling performers and writers, wonders what went wrong, when even he can’t control his own work.

(Derek Taylor, As Time Goes By, 1973)

Q: "The album was not known about until it was nearly completed. Was this deliberate?" A: "Yes, because normally an album is old before it even comes out. (A side) Witness 'Get Back.'" … Q: "Is it true that neither Allen Klein nor ABKCO have been nor will be in any way involved with the production, manufacturing, distribution or promotion of this new album?" A: "Not if I can help it." Q: "Did you miss the other Beatles and George Martin? Was there a moment when you thought, 'I wish Ringo were here for this break?'" A: "No."

(Paul McCartney, April 9th 1970, press release 'McCartney')

Derek Taylor, the Beatles' press officer, is with us, talking about how unexpected Paul's attack had been. "He was only supposed to write out information explaining how he made the album,? Derek says. "Instead, he hands us this interview in which he asks himself questions, such as would he miss Ringo? It was entirely gratuitous. Nobody asked him that question. He asked that question of himself."

(George Harrison, 1970, interview with Al Aronowitz)

We’re beginning now to only call each other when we have bad news. The other day Ringo came around to see me with a letter from the others, and I called him everything under the sun. But it’s all business. I don’t want to fall out with Ringo. I like Ringo. I think he’s great. We’re all talking about peace and love, but really we’re not feeling peaceful at all. ‘There’s no one who’s to blame. We were fools to get ourselves into this situation in the first place. But it’s not a comfortable situation for me to work in as an artist.’

(Paul McCartney, April 21-22, 1970, Interview for the Evening Standard)

We all started on a bus and small clubs and things like that, but Paul is that type of person. Paul wanted to do it all over again, and he did. And he went through hell. He went through hell. I mean, now he’s not talking to me and that’s too bad, but he started again from the bottom to do the Paul McCartney show. I don’t wanna do it anymore. I did it once.

(Ringo Sarr, 1980, interview with Peter Brown and Steven Gaines, All You Need Is Love, 2024)

172 notes · View notes

temmtamm · 3 months ago

Note

Hello! Could you do yandere Pines family x female reader. (Mostly targeted to stanford pines) Can you do it where the reader (the reader is in her mid-20s) was traveling through gravity falls. But her car broke down, so the reader managed to stop at a motel (if gravity falls have one). The reader looks around gravity falls while she was there. And went to the mystery shack, and that's when standford meets the reader. He was love struck. So obviously, he started to stalk her, etc. Till he finally talks to the reader. After a while, the pines family has been noticing his strange behaviors (more than normal), so they went to investigate (mostly dipper and Mabel), and they realized they too really liked her. And started to see her as a graunty. Stanley comes in to see what's up and realize he also likes her too (as a little sister) and all of them try to get the reader to date/relationship with stanford. But the reader finally mentioned she was leaving soon. And that just...broke them. You can come up with the last part, okay?

Hii ^^ friendly reminder that I do not do gender specific asks, but I will gladly do this concept using gender neutral pronouns!!

Yandere Ford (+ twins) Headcanons

Okay, so I don’t think Ford would be a hard guy to impress, mostly because he had been away from human society for three decades and hence, grew accustomed to other dimensions customs, including their appearances.

That is both to say that you are something very new and exciting for him, both in the ways of fashion and what-not as you don’t exactly look like what people did in the 70’s-80’s, and you’re the first human he’s seen that was a romance-able option.

Things to note about Ford is that he is awkward, not all that socially aware, and he has no conversation skills to save his life…but, another thing to note that he is self obsessed. Ford is narcissistic as all his life he had been praised for his intellect. So, he is convinced he can use his intellect to woo you over, he just needs to study you.

He doesn’t like to call it stalking, only bad people stalk. He’s not bad, he’s just…collecting data. He’s not stealing, he’s just collecting samples, you get the point.

At nights, he lies awake thinking of you, over analyzing your twos relationship. He worries he is turning into a freak of nature, an obsessive monster that will end up destroying you and everyone else he loves. He’s afraid he’ll end up like Bill.

But…when he talks to you, when he watches the wrinkles form in the crows feet of your eyes from how much you laugh at his jokes, how well you take care of the twins, all his worries melt away.

He will never end up like Bill. He’ll make sure of it. He doesn’t want to destroy, he wants to protect. It’s the intent that matters, right?

Well…Stan doesn’t exactly think so. He gets worried seeing Ford hover so closely around you, always analyzing, always watching. He doesn’t want to lose his brother. It might be a bit selfish, but he just got Ford back, he doesn’t want you taking Ford away to god-knows-where once your car gets patched up.

So, he starts asking around, asking to see if Mabel and Dipper noticed Ford’s new attitude.

You see, another thing to note is that Mabel and Dipper don’t have a good home life. It’s not out of reach to assume that they had gotten sent to the Mystery Shack during summer while their parents got divorced, and in such a troubling time with a collapsing home life, they latched onto the closest thing to a family they had, which was you and Ford.

Ford had been Dipper’s ideal for a long, long time, before Dipper even really knew who Ford was, and hence, he’d be estatic to have him as a father figure. And Mabel?? Well, she has this unique ability to bond with almost everyone she meets, but especially you. You don’t chastise or make fun of her for being boy crazy, or liking pink, or being the ‘dumber’ sibling. You just let her be a kid and have her fun.

So, the two cover for Ford.

What do you mean he’s going out late?? He must just be getting used to his new life back home.

What do you mean he has a collection of your clothes? He’s keeping it for you…to wash.

He bought a perfume/cologne with your exact scent?? Obviously, it’s an early birthday present.

Hell, the two might even try to convince Soos to stall the fixes on your car, with Mabel in particular winning him over, saying it’s for ‘love’.

They, along with Ford, aren’t that willing to part with you. Won’t you just stay a little longer?? They barely got to know you.

C’mon, just stay…

At least let them pretend they have a happy family, at least for a little.

#fanfic #fanfiction #yandere x reader #yandere #romantic #platonic #platonic dipper and Mabel #yandere ford pines #yandere gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls stanford #gravity falls fandom #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls #temmtamm

303 notes · View notes

wanderingelvis · 11 months ago

Note

Omggg cg!Elvis x littleF!reader who’s sick and keeps slipping into littlespace cuz of how sick she is so he takes care of her despite the possibility of him getting sick? 🥺

Thank you so much for the request!! I hope you like it <3

🧚 Masterlist 🧚

Word count: 2,135

Pairing: Early 70's CG!Elvis x Little F!Reader

Oh Lord, you were trying so hard, so so hard to be a big girl.

You knew that Elvis had so much on his schedule, the Colonel was working him and you too by default. You'd been on the road with Elvis, helping out where you could like the good little girlfriend you were, but it had become all a bit too much and you had caught some sort of bug that was making you feel all kinds of miserable.

And when you were ill, well, that was the most sure fire way for you to slip into little space. You just weren't very good at being independent and coping with the overwhelming and horrible feelings you were having.

But you were trying, you really, really were. You didn't want to interfere with the schedule, Elvis had a lot on his mind and you'd be damned to cross paths with the Colonel when there was so much money to be made. Even when you were feeling your best, you still didn't like to even be in the same room as the Colonel.

All morning you'd felt achey, sore and tingly all over with a fever creeping in. Naturally, you'd been quieter than usual, trying to stop yourself from slipping but it was becoming inevitable.

Your body just wasn't strong enough and you felt exhausted and vulnerable as you sat in Elvis' dressing room as he did a run-through of his show tonight.

You'd found a spare blanket and you were curled up in the corner of the large couch as members of staff and the Memphis Mafia alike walked past you, a few giving concerned looks your way, in particular, Red, who watched as you rested your head on your arms and closed your eyes.

See, being in the state that you were in meant that you had absolutely no concept of time and when you were woken from the light slumber you were in, you had no idea how long you'd been asleep for.

"Baby?" That familiar deep, Southern voice hushed, laced with concern as your eyes sleepily opened, staring up at Elvis who was studying your state with worry on his face after Red had told him that you seemed unusually low today.

You blinked adorably up at him and if you weren't so apparently sick, Elvis would do the most unspeakable things to you.

Elvis sighed, realising how wiped and sick you were as he put the back of his coarse hand on your forehead to check your temperature, which was far too high for his liking.

You couldn't bring yourself to speak, you felt all achey and sore and your head was just so fuzzy that you were pretty much ready to let tears spill down your cheeks.

And Elvis could tell. He'd been with you for long enough now to know your little space 'tells'. You'd go non-verbal, your eyes would get all big and round and glossy, because even after all this time, you still got nervous about being little in front of Elvis - a fact that Elvis actually thought was very sweet and endearing. You'd start chewing on something too, whether it was your toy stuffy, your lip or your fingers, you'd chew on something as you tried to get all your thoughts in order. And there you were, chewing on your lip as you trembled from the fever.

"Oh little one, you ain't feelin' too good huh?" Elvis cooed, to which you shook your head ever so slightly. "Oh baby. Need me to look after you, princess?" Elvis asked as you pushed yourself up feebly, the blanket pooling by your waist as you nodded and rubbed your eyes sweetly.

Effortlessly, Elvis scooped you up in his big, strong arms and your head automatically went to rest on his shoulder as you began to chew on your fingers anxiously, wanting this horrible feeling to go away.

"Y/N is comin' down with somethin' nasty, I'm gon' take care of her, let everyone know they can go home, I ain't leavin' her today." Elvis said to Jerry before he carried you to his private elevator that took him right to the suite that the two of you shared at the top of the International.

As soon as the doors closed, Elvis began to rock you gently. "Gon' get you undressed baby, take off all yer clothes and get you in the tub, give you some medicine that's gon' make you feel all good n'better then we're gon' get you into bed to rest n' take it easy. How does that sound pretty girl?" Elvis soothed.

You nodded into his shoulder, feeling vulnerable and weak as he held you tightly, you couldn't help but let out a couple of sniffles too.

"Little one, d'ya think you can use your words f'me?" Elvis said. He knew you'd go non-verbal whenever you were feeling overwhelmed and little, and usually he wouldn't push you, but when you were feeling little and sick, he needed to know that you could still understand what he was saying and there wasn't anything more serious that was underlying.

"J-Just, don't feel good Daddy." You whimpered and oh if Elvis' heart hadn't broken in two when he first saw you on that couch, it certainly had now.

The name that you'd just called him was definitive confirmation that you were deep in little space and you needed to be treated as delicately as possible.

"I know baby, I know you don't, Daddy's gon' take care of you." Elvis promised, kissing the top of your head as you got out of the elevator into the suite.

Elvis wasted no time in taking you straight to the bathroom, sitting you atop the bathroom the counter as he rolled up the sleeves on his blue silk shirt, one that you'd actually picked out for him because you thought he would look "extra pretty" in it and began to run the bathtub full of warm water for you. He then went through the bathroom cabinet, through the one that held all of the medicines you may need for any particular reason, before he found the right one for your fever and chills.

"Now, you gotta be a brave girl f'me, I know this don't taste too good baby, but it's gon' help make you better, 'kay?" Elvis said as he poured the medicine onto a spoon, ready to feed you as you watched on, grimacing a bit, you hated having to take medicine.

"I don't wanna..." You practically whispered.

"Darlin', I know it ain't nice, but you gotta take it like a good girl, can you do that fr'me?" Elvis said, his tone becoming a little sterner than before, you taking your medicine is not something he was going to compromise on.

You nodded but not without small tears forming, making Elvis feel quietly guilty, he wished that it was him that was sick, he'd give anything to swap places with you. It really did pain him to see you in this state.

"Okay, open them pretty lips fr'me angel, just like that, good." Elvis encouraged as he fed you the spoon with the medicine.

He used his pointer finger on his other hand to poke just under your jaw ever so slightly to close your mouth around the spoon. "Good." He hissed, nodding in approval at how good you were being.

Slowly, he took the spoon out of your mouth as he studied your face, your eyes staring up at him as your nose scrunched up at the sour tasting medicine.

"Baby, that medicine ain't gon' do a damn thing stuck in your mouth like that." Elvis half-heartedly chuckled, knowing you were being a little too stubborn for your own good. "Swallow." He commanded gently.

And, like the good girl you were, you did just that - although with a grimace on your sweet little face the entire time.

"Good girl." Elvis praised softly, as he began to take off your clothes for your bath.

You watched as his coarse, ring-clad hands traced your skin, causing shivers to travel through your already sensitive skin. Elvis hushed you reassuringly, saying sweet nothings to reassure you that you were okay, that he was your Daddy and he was going to make you better, and you believed him.

After you were fully undressed and after Elvis checked the water temperature, Elvis helped you into the tub where you instantly loved the sensation of the hot water on your shivering skin.

"Does my little girl like that?" Elvis smiled warmly as he watched you smile for the first time today, even if it was only a small one.

You nodded as you brought your knees to your chest to rest your head on your knees, your head tilted so you could watch your Daddy.

Elvis grabbed a loofah and took to gently washing you, getting you all soapy and lathered up in the suds as he watched you practically preen in delight at his touch.

"Bein' such a good girl fr' Daddy, ain'tcha?" Elvis soothed.

"Yes Daddy." You said sweetly, your eyes closed in bliss as Elvis continued to wash you all over.

"That's right, that's my girl." Elvis praised as he held out one of your arms to wash it, as if you were some sort of a doll for him to move as he pleased. You were so malleable and so sweet and Elvis loved nothing more than to take care of you.

When Elvis was done washing you, he scooped you up out of the tub and wrapped you up in a fluffy towel, holding you tightly and peppering you in kisses, eliciting a few soft giggles from you.

He knew you were feeling little, you were so overwhelmed and he knew the last week had taken it's toll on you. You were a little people pleaser, so much so, that you'd taken on much more than sweet, little you could manage. You would comply to anyones request and you'd caused yourself to become burnt out and Elvis couldn't help but feel responsible for not stepping in sooner - even if he knew that if he had stepped in, you would've begged him to let you help out as much as possible because you were just a little angel sent from heaven. Elvis quickly got you dressed into your favourite pyjamas that you wore when you were feeling little. They had cartoon horses on them and you'd adorably named each one, one morning whilst Elvis was reading his paper and drinking his morning coffee.

He took special care as he dressed you, mindful that your body was still tender and sore.

As Elvis led you to your bed, you began to feel all drowsy and achey again, making you extra clingy and needy with Elvis, but he secretly didn't mind.

Elvis tucked you up in bed and placed your stuffed bunny in your little grasp, smoothing back your hair that had fallen in front of your face.

After placing a kiss atop of your head, Elvis began to make his way from the bedroom to let you sleep before he heard a whine come from your lips.

"Oh honey, what's the matter?" Elvis cooed, making his way back to the bed before you reached out your arms wide and made grabby hands at Elvis, making him chuckle ever so.

"Daddy, stay," You whimpered. You were not in any fit state to not be close to Elvis. "Don't go, need you." You mumbled cutely.

Elvis smirked as he began to remove his shoes and get atop the bed, next to you, placing one arm across the pillows where your head rested so that you were able to slot into his side and snuggle into him as you clasped onto your stuffed bunny too.

"I ain't goin' anywhere baby, now rest your eyes honey, you need to get your strength back little one." Elvis instructed, his fingers running through your hair, sending shivers through you as you let your eyes close.

Elvis continued to play with your hair as he reached over to his bed-side table with his other hand and grab the telephone.

"Jer? Yeah, Jer, tell the Colonel to tell whoever needs to know that the show ain't happenin' tonight, reschedule, cancel, I don't care. I gotta take care of Y/N, ain't no way I'm leavin' her tonight, not in the state she's in. Okay. Thanks Jer." Elvis said into the receiver before putting it down again.

You couldn't help but feel bad as you nestled into Elvis' side. "Daddy?" You said meekly.

"Yes baby?"

"You don't got to cancel your show Daddy." You said softly, your big eyes looking up at his blue ones.

"Little one, I ain't ever wanna do a show if you ain't in the crowd." Elvis said firmly and you knew he wasn't going to budge on the matter - and with that you drifted off in the arms of your Daddy.

622 notes · View notes

clarisse0o · 2 months ago

Text

Camp Wiegman-Part 70

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 6K

TW: Smut

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Saturday, March 19th; 10:30 AM - At Lucy's place.

I sigh as I look at my study notes, which have taken over Lucy’s personal space. At least... if I can still call it that. I’ve slowly started filling it with my presence. Ever since I decided to move in after school, I’ve been bringing my stuff. I already brought a large suitcase from home last week, and I plan to do the same on our next trip to Barcelona. I’ll leave a few things there just in case, but most of it will be moved here. I should be resting, but I can’t. I was on the couch with Lucy, trying to start a series, but I didn’t last long. I was bored and felt useless. We’ve been moving around so much lately that I’m not used to staying still anymore. That’s how I ended up in this situation. I haven’t been feeling great lately, I must admit. I’m stressed out because of a few rejections I finally received from galleries. It’s only a small handful, but it’s unsettling. On top of that, I got feedback from Mr. Fields, and it wasn’t good. He’s not going to change his mind about his offer in Cardiff. I’m taking my time to give him an answer, but let’s just say I don’t want to accept it. And of course, our professors decided to schedule their exams for the two weeks before the break... That’s not helping my stress. I was about to start reading a new chapter when the sound of shuffling papers caught my attention. I look up to see Lucy gathering my notes that were scattered across the table.

- "What are you doing?" I asked, perplexed.

- "You’re unbelievable. No matter what I do, you always find something to cling to like a kind of drug when you start to lose control. Well... you know what I mean, right?" she backpedaled after realizing what she’d just said.

I smiled softly, crossing my arms as she continued to pile up my notes in her hands. For a moment, I wondered if she was respecting the order of my chapters or if I’d have to sort them all out later. Those thoughts quickly disappeared when she spoke again.

- "You need to detach yourself from studying, so we’re going out."

- "Really?" I raised an eyebrow.

- "Yes. You’re going to lose your mind if you keep studying this much."

I bit my lip as she held out her hand for me to give her the paper I was holding like my life depended on it.

- "I don’t think-"

- "Oh yes, it’s a great idea," she interrupted me. "Come on."

- "Fine..." I muttered, handing it over. "So, what do you have planned?"

- "We’re going to help the girls at the gym."

- "The gym...? You mean the studio?"

- "Yeah, the gym," she said, putting the stack of papers in my organizer. "I texted Jenni, and it seems they’re in the middle of renovations, so it’s the perfect time to lend a hand."

- "Alright..." I sighed.

I’m far from motivated, but it seems like it’s for a good cause.

- "Who’s there?"

- "Jenni, Aitana, Beth, and Alexia."

- "Alexia?" I repeated in surprise. "She didn’t tell me she was staying."

- "It wasn’t planned. Jenni hosted her last night. Their transport got canceled, apparently."

I raised an eyebrow. I’m really surprised she didn’t tell me, to be honest. Well, we haven’t talked since we parted ways yesterday.

- "What about Alba?"

- "As if I went that far in my questioning," she rolled her eyes. "You can ask her yourself in a few minutes. Go change first. Do you have any old clothes?"

- "Uh, no."

I blushed at the thought. I haven’t brought any of that yet. I prioritized what I wear regularly.

- "Well, I’ll have to find you something."

After getting ready, we were set to leave. I was wearing Lucy’s clothes, and nothing could make me happier. Surprisingly, traffic was light for a Saturday morning. The weather was warming up, finally allowing a few rays of sunshine to appear. Well, it wasn’t Barcelona’s twenty-five degrees, but I wasn’t going to complain. Seeing the outside world was doing me a lot of good, surprisingly. Lucy parked in the same spot as last time. I recognized Jenni’s car near ours. I assumed the other two cars belonged to the friends she had mentioned. I was excited to see them again. I hadn’t seen them since our trip to the Alps.

- "Are you mad at me?" I asked as she opened the rear door of the building for me.

- "Mad at you for what?"

- "For isolating myself whenever things get tough in my life instead of coming to talk to you..."

I turned to see her walking behind me. She met my gaze with a smile plastered on her face.

- "I’d be mad if it wasn’t so obvious, yes. But don’t worry, that’s not the case. I know you, and I know what’s bothering you right now. I’ll never force you to talk, but you know communication is important, and if you ever feel the need to talk, I’m here."

- "Thanks... I think I just need a hug right now."

- "Then I think I’ll offer my arms for that."

I laughed as I melted into her embrace when she opened her arms. In the end, I might be regretting the couch now. I’ll think about it next time. I sighed softly, inhaling her scent. It’s become my favorite. It’s fruity, yet soft, with a hint of coffee. It’s strange, but totally harmonious thanks to her natural body smell.

- « te amo," I murmured against her neck.

- « Te amo también, mi amor."

The doors to the main room creaked open a bit farther down. I didn’t even need to turn around to know, given how loud they were.

- "Ah, I knew I heard some noise!"

I turned around, recognizing Alexia’s voice. She had a huge, toothy smile. At least we could be sure she was happy to see us.

- "I’m so glad you’re here. We needed a bit more muscle around here. Don’t just stand there. We were waiting for you."

We walked over to greet her with a kiss on each cheek. We entered the room, where upbeat music filled the space. We greeted the guys as well, though it was less pleasant since their cheeks were sticky with sweat. It wasn’t surprising. They hadn’t slacked off this morning. They had already started tearing everything apart. The mirrors were dismantled, and the door on the right had been removed, revealing the hallway Lucy mentioned last time. If I remember correctly, the classrooms will be there.

- "Wow. Looks like you’ve made good progress," Lucy commented.

- "Yeah, pretty much," Aitana replied. "Jenni knows how to keep us motivated."

We laughed as she raised the beer she was drinking. A pack was lying in a corner, along with a few empty glass bottles. I wasn’t sure how long they’d been there, but it seemed like they’d been working since early this morning.

- "We didn’t know where to start, so we decided to tackle this area."

- "Yeah, yeah, it’s fine," Lucy said, making the same observation as me. "Have you started on the locker rooms yet?" she asked, glancing in the other direction.

- "No, that’s the next step," her best friend admitted.

- "Alright. Well, I think that’s a priority, along with the break room at the back. The furniture for those two rooms will arrive in a few weeks."

- "Okay, we’ll keep working on that then. We were just waiting for your orders, Commander."

Alexia and I stifled a laugh. It was quickly stopped by her mock-serious glare. Jenni gave us a knowing smile. After all, that nickname was here to stay. It suited her personality. But honestly, we couldn’t deny that we’d all be lost without her. Even now, she was playing the role of project manager.

- "Do you already have plans for how it’ll look?" I asked her.

- "Of course. We worked with an architect. Do you want to see the final design?"

- "Well, yeah!" I feigned offense that she hadn’t shown me yet.

- "Oh, sorry," she teased. "Jenni, where did you put the copies of the plans?"

"Uh, I think upstairs, in the office. We didn’t need them today. »

- Thank you.

- Can I come with you? Ale asks as I grab Lucy's hand.

- Yeah, sure, my girlfriend replies.

We head upstairs. Nothing has been touched here yet. I doubt much needs to be redone. It's a bit old, but it will just need a fresh coat of paint and probably some cleaning too. We stand at the front of the office while Lucy rummages through the drawers one by one.

- Ah, here they are.

She places them in front of us with a triumphant look. I smile, noticing how proud she is of her work. And she should be—it all looks fantastic. The color scheme is navy blue and white, with black aluminum accents like the entryway they plan to install. It gives an industrial vibe, a style I often see and love. At least I won’t worry about our tastes clashing if we ever decide to pick or even build a house together. Despite that, they've still kept the authenticity and charm of the stone walls.

- Do you like it? The plans can still be changed, but we can’t alter the major parts anymore.

She's talking fast, and her expression is a bit tense. Our opinions must matter a lot. I don’t answer right away, lingering over the locker room plans. There will be cabins on one side and showers on the other, with a small private stall for privacy. The idea is well thought out. Of course, there are also toilets. The color theme remains the same, and it looks like the mirrors they removed from the main room will be reused here.

- It’s great, I break the suspense first. What do you think?

- Same here, Ale responds. Honestly, you guys made excellent choices.

I continue examining the plans for the back area, where they plan to refresh the hallway. The toilets won’t be touched, but the break room will be completely redone. Again, the blue stands out, with minimalist furniture and a blue accent wall.

- That must have taken a lot of work, she adds.

- Quite a bit, yeah, but between weekends and my evenings at the dorm, we managed to make it happen.

The final plans are for the rooms reserved for common classes. I also notice a room marked as an office.

- What’s this room for? I ask, pointing to it.

- It’s for personal follow-ups. We thought it would be better to have a room that offers privacy.

- Why not use this office? I ask, gesturing to the one we’re standing in.

- We didn’t want members to have access to the back area. A sign will be put up saying it's staff-only. I don’t think people will linger here, but the idea isn’t to supervise them all the time. Plus, important documents and storage will be kept here.

I nod. It makes sense. At least they won’t have to worry about surveillance. I frown, lingering over the other classroom plans. Oddly enough, they seem very plain—just white walls, which is strange compared to the rest.

- Why won’t the classrooms be decorated?

- Ah, you noticed? I was wondering the same thing, Ale points out.

We both look up at Lucy. My question seems to have amused her.

- To be honest, Jenni and I talked about it for a while. We want you to handle the decor for those rooms.

I’m speechless. Ale gives me a big smile and pats my back in support.

- A-are you serious?

- Yeah! I’ve seen what you did with your room in Barcelona. You’re totally capable of this. I was going to ask you about it—I just hadn’t had the chance yet. These rooms don’t need repairs, just renovation and decoration, so there’s no rush. What do you think? Will you take it on?

- Of course she’ll accept! Ale exclaims. That would be awesome!

I blush, flattered that she thought of me for this task.

- Yeah, sure… I think I can do that if you really want me to. Do you have any ideas already?

- Not really, she admits. We held off so you’d have the freedom to imagine what you want. But we can give you some suggestions if you prefer.

- Honestly, you caught me off guard, I chuckle nervously. We’ll have to talk more about it.

She smiles knowingly, and I think I understand. My little guess was right.

- If it becomes your next obsession, that’s fine with me.

I roll my eyes, laughing. Alexia watches us, not fully understanding the situation but wisely choosing not to intrude, sensing it’s a private conversation between us.

- Well, how about we go help the others? That’s what we’re here for, right?

That’s how we spent the rest of the day, helping our friends. Lucy was right. I needed to see something different, to enjoy life. I was happy to spend time with them. Everything was done in good spirits. The girls were demolishing things while we, the girls, were in charge of loading the van Jenni rented with the old furniture. We made several trips to the nearest dump. It took most of our time because of the traffic, but it was fun. We also went to the mall across the street to restock water and beer since we were running low. It’s really convenient having a building like that so close. I’m sure it’ll attract a lot of people—after all, everyone goes to the mall, so they won’t miss the gym’s sign. One thing’s for sure: we laughed a lot throughout the day. I was finally able to forget about my life for a while. Lucy and Alexia got along so well. I’m even starting to wonder if she might prefer Alexia to Mapi. I guess I’ll never know. It’s not something Lucy would admit, knowing her. By the end of the afternoon, we’d cleared out the break room. Lucy promised the guys we’d come back next week to help with the locker rooms, which are much bigger. In any case, I was happy to be there. At least I knew I’d be doing something other than studying. Our friends suggested we stay for dinner, and we agreed. We ended up at a pizza place nearby. Something tells me we’ll become regulars there. They serve pizzas, but also pasta dishes. Tonight, we all had pizza. Lucy and I ordered two different ones so we could share. They were excellent, but next time I think I’ll try the pasta to see if it’s as good.

The day came to an end. We said our goodbyes late at night before everyone headed home. Surprisingly, I wasn’t as exhausted when we left as I’d been when we arrived. Lucy seemed to feel the same way.

- We could make cookies, I suggested.

- Cookies? she laughed. Why cookies?

- Well, we’re not tired. Might as well do something productive. We could bring them to the girls tomorrow. They’d love that.

- Wow... why not? But I’m not sure I have everything we need, she said, already checking her cupboards.

- Well, how about a chocolate cake then? You must have some chocolate, right?

Lucy laughed and finally pulled out a bar of dark chocolate.

- Yes, I do. That’s doable.

- Cool! Let’s get to work, then.

I rolled up my sleeves, making Lucy laugh.

- Slow down, master chef. Start by washing your hands.

- You just had to kill my enthusiasm, huh? I said with a playful pout.

- No, I’m teaching you. A good chef knows you always wash your hands before starting, she teased with a wink.

I laughed but followed her advice. After everything we did today, it wasn’t exactly sanitary to start cooking without cleaning up first.

- Maybe we should shower before starting, huh? We’ve been sweating all day.

- No, I’d lose my motivation, I admitted.

- True, you’re right. Alright, let’s get to work.

After washing her hands too, she pulled out a cookbook. I had to admit, I’d never made a chocolate cake before. I felt a little embarrassed because it’s such a basic thing.

- So, I’ll read the ingredients, and you get them out.

- Maybe it makes more sense to do it the other way around, right? Since you know where everything is.

- Alright, if you say so, she teased.

I list the ingredients for her, and she places them on the countertop. It's time to begin. She preheats the oven, and then we get to work. Everything is done with a cheerful mood. Nothing is too serious. She has me follow the recipe, pouring the ingredients into a bowl, while she takes care of melting the butter and chocolate over a bain-marie.

"Why don't you just use the microwave, since you have one?" I teased.

"I prefer doing it this way. It's how I was taught. It's supposed to be better. Plus, no microwaves involved."

"Hmm... if you say so."

I dip my finger into the melted mixture and bring it to my mouth once everything has melted, abandoning my bowl that's been ready for a while.

"Hey, don’t touch that."

"We could totally eat this as is too."

"Unless you want a stomachache, sure, we can," she teased.

I pouted to show my dissatisfaction.

"My grandmother used to forbid me from eating the batter like that, but she always let me lick the bowl at the end," I shared.

"Well, you can lick the bowl too if you want," she laughed. "Alright, all that's left is to mix everything together. Do you want to handle it?"

"Can you do it? I never managed to do it right when I was a kid."

"You've grown up since then, you know?" she teased. "Come on, you'll do it."

She tugged on the sleeve of my sweater to pull me in front of her. I frowned but took the whisk and mixed our two bowls together. Lucy finished up when she noticed my movements were slowing down. Smiling playfully, I dabbed my finger in the mix and smeared it on her face. Lucy gasped in surprise.

"You dared!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I moved closer to lick her cheek, trying to erase the evidence. Lucy backed away immediately, but it was too late—I had already cleaned it up. She wiped her face with her sleeve.

"Oh, so you want to play, huh?"

She dipped her fingers into the batter, and I laughed as she pinned me against the counter before I could escape. She slowly dragged her fingers from my forehead to my chin, smearing the rest down my neck.

"Come on, that’s over the top," I giggled.

"What? I’m just going to clean it up like you did," she said mischievously.

I tried to wriggle out of her grip, but it was a lost cause. She was holding me too tightly, her body fully pressed against mine. There was no way out.

"It's my turn to get even," she whispered before kissing my forehead.

I kept laughing as she continued her "clean-up" down my nose. I had stopped resisting. I was the one who had started the playful mess, so I wasn't going to stop her. Things got more intense when she reached my lips. She lingered particularly long where the last bit of chocolate had been. We kissed, devouring each other’s mouths, before she moved down to my chin. Our eyes locked with heavy intensity. A warmth stirred deep in my stomach. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at me with such desire. I bit my lip as she moved even lower after finishing with my chin. She ended up at my neck, and I realized why she had smeared so much chocolate there.

Breathing shallowly, I closed my eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing. I gripped the counter behind me to keep my balance. She alternated between using her tongue, sucking, and giving soft kisses. A moan escaped my lips, and I immediately covered my mouth with my hand. I realized she had just bitten the edge of my collarbone. She lifted her head to meet my eyes again. The knot in my stomach tightened even more. There was a delicious tension in the air. She wanted me—it was clear from her eyes. We stayed in that position for a moment, neither of us breaking the silence that was filled with meaning. It was now or never. She was waiting for me to react, but I didn’t know what to do. Inside, I was panicking, but I wanted this. I could feel it in every part of me. When she started to pull back, I couldn’t let it end like that. I grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her passionately. I needed her. My move surprised her, and she leaned into me with her full weight. We were dangerously close to breaking apart. We devoured each other with our eyes, silently asking what was next.

“I want this,” I whispered. “Please.”

I was grateful she hadn’t asked the question first. I preferred making the choice myself. She appreciated my response, as I could tell by the low growl that escaped her throat.

“Are you sure…?” she asked.

I nodded as I returned to her lips. I could feel her smile as my arms wrapped around her neck, pulling her closer. I heard her chuckle when she suddenly lifted me off the ground. Her lips didn’t give me time to cry out.

“It’s all for you tonight, Princess,” she whispered, attacking my neck again.

Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around her waist and tilted my head to the side. I never knew where she got her strength from, but I wasn’t surprised anymore. She paused for a moment at the edge of the kitchen, and I realized she was turning off the oven. Then, expertly, she returned to my neck as we headed down the hallway. I didn’t even notice what was happening around us before I was pinned against the wall of our bedroom. That thought alone heightened my excitement. Lucy’s hips ground against my most sensitive spot, and if I wasn’t sure before, I could now feel the dampness there. I would have loved for her to come back to my lips to muffle the sounds I could barely contain. Lucy must have noticed because she stopped her sweet torture on my neck, which was probably well-marked by now. She knew it was one of my weak points. Her warm breath sent shivers down my body. She nibbled on my earlobe before whispering:

“Don’t hold back your pleasure, baby,” she murmured. “I want to hear you. I need to know how you’re feeling.”

After her words, she hit just the right spot, and I couldn’t hold back the sound that escaped my lips. Damn.

"That's much better," she teased with a playful smile. "No more holding back, okay?"

I squeaked as she continued to tease between my legs with her hips, punishing me with waves of pleasure, eliciting more moans. Unable to form words, I nodded to show I understood. She didn’t give me a chance to react or even think about it—probably for the best. She kissed me again, more softly this time, as she carried me to our bed. My heart raced as her hands wandered under my sweater. I lifted my arms to help her remove the barrier that seemed to be bothering her. Her lips wanted to return to my now burning body, but I held her back for a moment.

“I-I want to see you too, please.”

My voice was fragile, pleading in the moment. Lucy laughed softly but nodded. For the first time, she gave me a bit of space, sitting up on top of me.

"You don’t have to ask, you know. You just need to undress me..."

I smiled timidly and pulled off her sweater, tossing it somewhere in the room.

"You don’t really give me the time," I teased her.

She laughed, and to my surprise, she quickly removed her bra, letting it join the pile of clothes. I was mesmerized by the sight before me. Lucy was a stunning woman. I still wondered what I had done to deserve her...

"Is this better?" she murmured.

I nodded, bringing my gaze back to hers. I blushed, knowing she had caught me staring.

"Go ahead," she whispered. "Don’t be shy. Everything is yours, my love."

With a touch of shyness, I brought my hand to her left breast. She shivered slightly at the contact. I noticed her watching me with a small smile. I lingered on her perfect chest. It wasn’t too large or too small. As soon as my finger grazed her nipple, it hardened instantly, a clear sign that her excitement matched mine. I finally looked back up into her eyes, and she nodded, giving me silent permission. I gently cupped her breast, caressing it more fully. I had been waiting for this moment for so long. It fit perfectly in my palm. I took my time. I wanted to explore every inch of her body. I rolled us over so that I was on top. With my occupied hand, I continued to caress her more confidently. My other hand supported me as I leaned down to focus on her other breast with my mouth. I kissed every part I could, even letting my tongue trail over certain spots. My excitement was building fast, and it seemed Lucy’s was too, given how she squirmed beneath me. I gained confidence as she didn’t hold back her sounds. The most intense moment came when I sucked her nipple hard. I wanted to take my time, to savor the moment, but that clearly wasn’t in her plans. Her hands quickly found their way to my back. The need to feel her bare skin against mine prompted me to let her undress me too. I gasped when she suddenly flipped us over, letting our chests press against each other for the first time after she had removed my last piece of clothing from the top.

- I said it was for you tonight. I intend to keep my promise.

- Bab-

I don’t have time to protest before she returns to my lips, my neck, and finally my chest. She kisses me everywhere, her tongue joining the dance from the start. I close my eyes to savor the sensation I had almost forgotten. With Feli, everything was quick. She didn’t linger on foreplay, preferring to get straight to the point. Experiencing such tenderness again brings tears to my eyes. Lucy, unaware of my tears, continues her torment, alternating between each breast with her hand or her mouth. She’s everywhere, for my perfect pleasure. It’s when she moves back up towards me that she notices my state.

- Hey, what’s wrong? We can stop if it’s too much for you.

- N-no, don’t... D-don’t stop, p-please.

Despite myself, tears come in streams. I didn’t want to ruin this moment. Not in any way. Lucy slides her fingers under my eyelids, as she has become accustomed to doing.

- D-don’t stop, please, I beg her.

She kisses me tenderly. This gesture calms me a bit. I return her sweet kisses, adding more passion to the next ones. She reignites the flame with her hands continuing to caress my chest.

- It’s going to be okay, she whispers. Tell me what I should do. Or show me if you prefer.

I nod and try to stop my tears once and for all. She still wants me, even with my disheveled mind and the tears that must have affected my appearance. My heart burns as much as my body. I linger my hands on her jeans, struggling with her belt with my trembling hands. I want to go faster, and Lucy chuckles at my sudden impatience.

- Okay, wait. Slow down.

She lifts herself to help me undress her. We soon find ourselves both in just our underwear, warm as embers after multiple caresses and kisses. Everything is soft. Lucy returns to my chest, now as marked by her as my neck. Her body fits perfectly with mine, moving slowly, making sure our thighs touch each other. I press against her from time to time, without realizing it. She was heating me up, and my desire quickly becomes too powerful and uncontrollable. Then comes the moment I was most apprehensive about. She starts to move down, but by reflex, I pull her back towards me.

- Relax, darling. Trust me.

I let her go with those simple words after a final exchanged kiss. She kisses my stomach first to tease me, though I was already at my limit. To make things difficult, I don’t make it easy for her. I squirm, though I have to keep my stomach contracted the entire time. I recognize some places where she lingers. They are where my scars are. I also flinch when she playfully nibbles. Then, she stops when she reaches my last piece of underwear. Surprisingly, she doesn’t remove it. She prefers to go lower, starting again from my knee. It’s too much. It tickles, as I am sensitive there. I try to close my thighs together, but Lucy holds them open with a laugh.

- Stop torturing me, I reply in a short breath.

- Come on, baby. You won’t escape this, she teases, continuing her trail of kisses. I want to kiss every part of your body.

I moan as she continues inside my thighs. Damn. I can’t resist much longer.

- P-promise me you’ll come back up after, I beg. I want you with me.

I don’t want to be the only one having pleasure tonight. I don’t know what she had planned, but I want us to come together for our first time.

- Alright, she murmurs against my warm skin. I promise.

She continues her path gradually, passing over my legs. I don’t remember being this sensitive here. I can’t stay still. Lucy keeps me pinned down with one hand on my stomach and the other on my thigh. I can’t close them or escape. She understands that she needs to hold them firmly to achieve her goal. A goal she eventually reaches. I don’t even dare to look down. All I know is that my panties must be quite wet in her eyes. I feel the coolness as Lucy breathes on it to tease me.

- Look at me.

I do so with difficulty. Seeing her at my center, holding my legs, makes my stomach churn. I’m struggling to realize that this is happening. The woman who, a few months ago, was tormenting me with training sessions to bring me down to earth, is now between my legs. I don’t protest when she pulls on the waistband of my black lace thong. I don’t know what possessed me to wear it this morning, but I’m thankful now. She does it gently to give me time to push her away if needed, but I don’t. Especially not in my state. I want her. Now. Still, she takes wicked pleasure in driving me crazy like she did a few minutes ago with her kisses.

- Luce, I complain.

- Oh, are you impatient now?

I move my hips as she has long since removed my last barrier. She gazes at me, and I blush. I thought I would feel vulnerable when this happened, but the way she looks at me makes me melt. With a smile, she teases my clitoris with her finger.

- I should make you beg.

- Y-you wouldn’t dare!

- And why not?

She plays with me and even dares to laugh. I plan to get my revenge when it’s her turn. As if she could read my thoughts, she dives right into my center to kiss it. I can still feel her smile. Just from the contact, I moan loudly. Her tongue takes over before she sucks on my sensitive skin. I cry out, propping myself up on my elbows at the sensation.

- Oh, fuck!

I can feel Lucy’s smile again. She doesn’t say anything, just pulls me down with her arm. I let myself fall back, closing my eyes. The sensation is exquisite. I had forgotten what it felt like to experience such pleasure. Her tongue explores every inch of my little garden, eliciting more than one moan or cry of pleasure. I cling to the sheets as best I can to avoid pulling her hair. If she had been at my level, her back would be covered in scratches. She mixes it with some sucking before going even lower. It’s the last straw. My moans fill the room, and I quickly grab her hair. I no longer know if I want to restrain her or pull her away. My head isn’t in the game anymore, and Lucy takes wicked pleasure in building the pressure in my stomach. I’ve never felt such pleasure before. When I reach my peak, I pull her hair. She quickly understands the message, finishing the moment with a final little kiss before coming back up. The absence of her mouth is already replaced by her hand. My own can now scratch her back. With my other hand, I quickly venture under her completely wet underwear. A short breath escapes her. It’s my turn to leave her with no opportunity. I take her lips, covered in my moisture. We caress each other while kissing. When she inserts a finger into me, I have to break the connection.

- O-oh my God.

I contract around her finger, no longer used to such presence. Lucy, who had started moving, stops immediately.

- Are you okay? she murmurs with concern.

- Y-yes! Don’t stop.

Understanding the meaning of my positive reaction, she waits for me to relax before adding a second finger. She doesn’t give me time to think and starts a gentle rhythm. I’m tense at first, but pleasure soon takes over as she speeds up. I realize I’ve fallen behind on my end. I have to concentrate fully to reciprocate. It’s intense. We are making love. The room echoes with our sounds. Lucy manages to find my lips to seal them together one last time. I struggle to return the kiss. My focus is much lower. Especially as our last acceleration takes its toll on us. We scream one final time in unison when we climax. I’m overwhelmed by her intensity. My teeth sink into Lucy’s shoulder, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. She’s in the same state as me, against my neck. The room eventually quiets down, with only our ragged breathing filling the space. It took us both a moment to recover. She’s the first to remove her fingers before I do. I’m exhausted, and my eyelids have become heavy. Still, I remain awake. Lucy kisses me one last time before getting up. I watch her carefully as she removes her underwear that had stayed on until the end. It must be quite a mess now. She pulls back the covers, and with a tremendous effort, I slip underneath. She immediately joins me, wrapping her arms around me. I smile, realizing what just happened.

- I love you, I murmur.

- I love you even more, she whispers, kissing my temple. Have sweet dreams, my love.

Under her words, I finally let myself drift off to sleep.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

100 notes · View notes

zepskies · 9 months ago

Text

The Miracle Man

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x F. Reader

Summary: The first time you met Priestly was both the worst and best night of your life. He gave you a Miracle.

AN: Here’s the prequel to Code Red! (But this can also be read as stand alone.) I hope you enjoy. And just a note, remember this was circa 2007, still the era of flip phones and iPods, despite the advent of the iPhone.

Word Count: 3,500

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for mature talk. A kind of meet cute, insecurities, angst, breakups, hurt/comfort, sandwiches, fluff and feels.

He was a lone ranger in the Wild West. His weapon of choice?

A dirty mop.

Priestly bopped his head to the music playing from his earbuds. His iPod was tucked in his right jean pocket while he speared the mop across the floor of the sandwich shop. It was three minutes to closing time on a Saturday night, and it was his turn to clean up and lock up.

He was looking forward to getting home, taking a shower, and diving face-first into his bed. But first, he just needed to kill three minutes.

Come on, come on, come oooon, he sang in his mind as the hands on his watch ticked on. While glancing down at said watch, he remembered it had been a gift from Tish for his birthday…

Three months ago. When they were still together.

Priestly heaved a sigh. What were you supposed to do with gifts from your ex that you actually liked? The gifts that made it into your everyday life, not just because they were from the person you thought you loved, but because it was actually hella practical and a nice accessory to keep on your person?

It’s just a damn watch. Don’t make it a big deal, he reminded himself. What was he supposed to do, have a ritual burning of everything Tish had ever touched?

That would take all damn night. And he definitely drew a line at his dick.

“Hello?”

The front door of the shop opened, the little bell Trucker installed chiming with too much cheer and startling Priestly out of his thoughts.

“We’re closed,” he said. But that was before he looked up, and had to pause in his mopping.

You were standing there, holding yourself in the open doorway with the cold breeze hitting your back. You were wearing a red cocktail dress and the highest black heels he’d ever seen, with your styled hair falling around your shoulders.

You were entirely too beautiful to be in this old sandwich shop, he thought. It had Priestly swallowing, frozen in time.

“Really? The sign says 10,” you pointed out. There was a level of desperation in your eyes. “Please, you’re the only place with the lights still on and I’ve been all up and down the block.”

Blinking out of his idiotic state, Priestly looked down at his watch again. It was exactly 9:59 p.m.

Well, damn. Got me on a technicality.

He held in a sigh.

“Okay, come on in,” he waved you over. Setting down his mop, he rounded the counter and went to man the register. He gave you a minute to peruse the menu. He noted that aside from your stunning attire, you had a cell phone in your hand that clearly couldn’t fit in that little purse hanging off your shoulder, bumping along your hip.

He couldn’t help but visually trace the curves of your hips and waist, back up to the sweetheart neckline of the dress, the deeper shade of your lipstick and up to your face.

But then he felt bad for staring, so he looked up heavenward before you caught him.

Meanwhile, your eyes drifted from the menu and dipped to his chest for a moment.

“Too bad I’m not gay,” you said.

What? Priestly frowned in confusion. But following your gaze, he realized you were staring at his yellow shirt, which read in big, 70s-style letters: Be Gay & Proud, Get a Free Drink.

His lips twitched at a grin, and he looked up at you. “D’you know what you want?”

You had a smile starting to play on your lips as well. You went back to considering your choices.

“Not sure, but I’m starving. What do you recommend?” you asked.

Priestly’s lips puckered as he considered the menu he knew by heart.

“Well, if you wanna go classic, I’d do a Spicy Italian on white bread. If you wanna be adventurous, we just added the Jalapeño Buffalo Chicken Club," he said. "But, if you wanna get crazy awesome, I can put on some Zeppelin and make you something special of my own design.”

He colored that last option with a gesture of his hand, a flourish, if you will. You tilted your head at him and smiled.

“Okay. Surprise me, Sandwich Man.”

Priestly snorted while he washed his hands again. “Sounds like the lamest superhero ever.”

“With his death-defying salami summoning powers,” you quipped, with a giggle that had him smiling as well.

“Nice alliteration,” he said. And he made a show of tying his apron back on. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Your late-night hoagie is safe with me.”

You tried to stifle another laugh while he worked his magic. From bread to meats and cheeses and toppings, Priestly was a master of his craft. He had that 12” hero wrapped and sliding across the counter towards you in record time.

“I call this the ‘Miracle,’” he winked. “You’ll see why. But that’ll be $10 even.”

You nodded and turned to the purse on your hip. You opened up the little velvety thing, but your face fell when all you found was your keys, not your credit card.

“No.” Your heart dropped into your stomach. You opened your purse wider and flipped through the satin insides, but you saw that it was empty. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. I know I had my wallet in here…”

And then it dawned on you.

“That fucking asshole,” you growled.

Priestly’s eyes widened. “Uh…”

Your head snapped up to his. “I had a different purse picked out for tonight. You know, one that actually had my wallet in it? But my know-it-all boyfriend had the nerve to say, ‘That one’s too shiny, looks kinda cheap. This is a restaurant at the Ritz-Carlton, not a hooker hangout.’ Can you believe that?”

Priestly blinked in confusion, but he realized that in your purse shuffling, you had no way to pay for this amazing sandwich he’d just concocted.

And now, you actually had the beginnings of frustrated tears in your eyes as you took in a shuddering breath.

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I can’t—I can’t pay for this. I don’t have my wallet… Hold on, let me see if he’ll…”

You held up a finger and started dialing manically on your phone. You held it up to your ear and waited. Your tears sprang forth anew when the line just kept ringing until it sent you to voicemail.

“Figures,” you scoffed. “The one time I actually need this douchebag to answer, he ignores me!”

You slammed the phone down on the counter and covered your face with your hand as you sniffled. Priestly softened with sympathy. You seemed to be having a harder night than he thought.

He slid the sandwich your way, making you raise your head.

“It’s okay. This one’s on the house,” he said. “Looks like you could use a pick-me-up.”

Your watery eyes met his. “Really? You don’t have to…”

“No worries,” he replied, giving you a bit of charm in his grin. “I’ll even throw in a soda. Lady’s choice.”

Your lower lip trembled, but you were able to smile. With a quiet thank you, you wiped under your eyes carefully so your mascara wouldn’t run. Then you grabbed a Coke from the machine along with your sandwich from the counter.

“Do you mind if I eat here?” you asked, gesturing at one of the tables. “I promise I won’t leave a mess. I know you’re trying to close up.”

Priestly waved a dismissive hand. “Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

He went around the counter to take up his mop and continue where he left off in the cleaning process. But he couldn’t help but eye you every now and then. Curiosity was starting to eat him alive.

Had your boyfriend just dumped you here? Had you gone off alone? Somehow, he couldn’t see the first option happening. If you were his girlfriend, he would do his best not to let you walk away angry at him, let alone this late at night, without any money or even your ID.

“Are you coming from a party or something?” he found himself asking. You looked up from your second bite of the sandwich. You’d looked to have been truly enjoying it, uttering a moan that’d caught his attention.

“No,” you chuckled humorlessly around a mouthful of bread. “I was supposed to meet his parents. His rich, very bougie, hyper-critical parents. Somehow it didn’t occur to me that he was just like them.”

Priestly paused and leaned on his mop. He was hesitant, not wanting to disturb you while you were eating, but he was too damn hooked.

“So…what happened?” he asked. You scoffed and took another massive bite of your sandwich.

“Okay, you want to hear this? Fine,” you began. “So, I’m a stress eater by nature. Let’s just start with that.”

“Who isn’t?” Priestly supplied. Pursing your lips, you raised a black olive at him in a thank you gesture.

“But when I tell you I spent three months depriving myself to fit into this dress. No carbs, cheese, chocolate, or happiness.”

He grimaced. “That’s no way to live.”

“Exactly!” you concurred. “But I did all that so my boyfriend would have nothing to say when I finally met his parents for this dinner—to celebrate him graduating from med school.”

Priestly found himself dimming inside. Not only were you spoken for, but you were with a future doctor, no less. The only title Priestly had to his name was Sandwich Man.

“It started with the purse thing when he picked me up. Then when we get there, he keeps telling me how stuffy his dad is and how judge-y and critical his mom can be and how I’m a reflection on him,” you mocked in an impression of his voice.

“Then I find myself second-guessing every word that might come out of my mouth, and I’m too nervous to even eat the $60 plate of Chilean sea bass in front of me, and not to mention, there’s a glass of wine in my hand. I don’t even like wine!”

By now, it was all Priestly could do to keep up with your verbal spitfire. You were also gesticulating wildly with your sandwich the more worked up you got.

“I mean, I’m saying things I don’t say, and suddenly I realize that I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots for this man, I don’t even recognize myself,” you confessed. Your eyes lit up with a gleam of clarity. Your hands lowered down to the table, and after a beat, you continued eating.

“But then my boyfriend of over a year turns to me and says, ‘Why are you being so weird and frigid?’” you said. You met Priestly’s eyes. “I just, I got so mad. I wanted to choke him out with my napkin, you know?”

He bit his lip to stifle a laugh.

“So instead of violence, I grabbed the glass of pinot noir, or chardon-perignon-whatever-the-fuck, and I poured it in his lap,” you concluded. “Then I walked out. And I ignored his calls. And I kept walking. Then a nice guy made me a sandwich.”

Priestly had to smile at that. He knew there was a Ritz-Carlton in the area, but that had to be almost a mile down the street. You’d walked a long way in those crazy-ass heels.

He propped his mop against a nearby table and sat down across from you. He shook his head in wonderment. And inside, your words kind of rattled him.

I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots, I don’t even recognize myself.

“You know, sometimes I really, really wish I was gay,” you said, gesturing at his shirt.

“O-Oh…really?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Yeah, I do,” you answered. “I’m a quick study. I could learn to eat pussy.”

If he had been drinking something, he would’ve spat it out. He mentally fumbled for a moment before he could articulate a response.

“Well, I don’t doubt you, but it can be an acquired taste. Though I happen to like it,” he replied, grinning mostly to himself. He didn’t even think about how it might come out though.

As soon as he realized what he was saying to a perfect stranger, his eyes widened and met yours.

"Uh, sorry," he said.

But you just chortled in amusement. Your blush intensified though, along with your smile as you took a sip of your soda.

“You’re uh…you’re pretty awesome,” he said. And he meant that.

You blinked in surprise. Your lips twitched upwards, a blush rosy in your cheeks.

“Yeah?” you asked. His smile deepened.

“Yeah,” he replied. “And for the record, I know I just met you, but…I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Your face softened with a certain shyness, but you smiled at him through your lashes.

“Well, I appreciate that…” you trailed, realizing you didn’t yet know his name.

“Priestly,” he offered, along with his hand across the table. You slipped your smaller hand in his and gave him your name.

Though you quirked a brow at him. “Priestly? That’s your first name?”

Now it was his turn to get a little embarrassed.

“Uh, no,” he said, his gaze falling from yours. He scratched the back of his head, under the blue mohawk.

“Oh. What is it, then?” you asked.

“You don’t want to know,” he chuckled wryly.

“I think I do, or I wouldn’t be asking,” you countered. Your smile was playful though. Disarming, even.

“It’s um, it’s Boaz,” he admitted. You tilted your head, as if swirling the name around in your head. But you didn’t say it was weird, or stupid, or too biblical. You just smiled.

“Boaz Priestly. Interesting,” you nodded. Then you wrapped up your garbage, having eaten all of your sandwich. You made sure to collect every crumb, even though he’d told you not to worry about the mess. You got up to take it to the trashcan near the door.

“How’re you getting home?” he asked.

You bit your lip. The anxiety in your eyes told him you’d been pondering that same question. You let out a deep breath.

“I guess I’ll have to walk back to the hotel, try to get a ride from my b…my ex-boyfriend. Gotta get used to saying that,” you said. “I promise I’ll pay you back for the sandwich.”

“Didn’t I tell you it was on me? Don’t worry about that,” said Priestly. “But I’ll tell you what, let me give you a ride.”

You shook your head. “Oh, thank you, but we just met, and I—”

Just then, Priestly realized how his offer sounded. He didn’t want to creep you out.

“Ah, or I can get you a cab,” he said. “I doubt you want to see that guy again tonight, do you?”

You bit your lip, smudging some of the scarlet red lipstick there. It distracted him for a moment, but he returned his gaze to your eyes.

You sighed. As much as you didn’t want to impose again, you let Priestly call you a cab. He paid for it in advance after you gave the cabbie your address. Before you got in the car, you turned to Priestly and touched his arm.

“Thank you,” you said. “I promise, I’ll come tomorrow and pay you back.”

He smiled. “You can try.”

He earned your sweet smile back, and he watched you get into the cab. He tried not to raise his hopes up, but he really did hope he’d see you tomorrow.

And yet, he should’ve known it was too good to be true.

“Maybe she got caught up at work or something,” Jen tried to console him the next day at closing, after you didn’t show up.

“It’s Sunday,” he pointed out grumpily. He continued to wipe down Table 4 of some nasty residue of mayo and pickled radish.

“You don’t know what kind of job she has,” Piper interjected. She was making a tuna salad sub on wheat for the last customer, which she then passed on to Tish at the register. “Maybe she’s in retail, or she’s in the restaurant business too—or hey, a lifeguard! This is a beach town after all.”

“Or maybe, she just played you into getting free food and a ride home,” Tish suggested, with her usual brand of cutting sarcasm. It just tended to cut a bit deeper these days, whenever it was leveled at Priestly.

The post-breakup thing had been tense and awkward for everyone, and it still hadn’t normalized just yet in their little sandwich-making ecosystem. Jen shot her friend a look though, one that told her she was being bitchy.

The problem was, she’d only voiced what Priestly was thinking anyway, deep down.

“Amazing, serendipitous things don’t happen to me, Piper,” he said. “Not anymore.”

He continued cleaning.

Three weeks later, it happened on a Friday afternoon.

It was one of their busiest times of the week. Tish was at the register as usual, Jen was sorting through the inventory and bussing tables, and Priestly was making hero after hero like a fiend, alongside Piper. He was definitely living up to his name of Sandwich Man.

He was still able to recognize your voice near the register.

“One 12” Miracle, please,” you requested.

“Um…we don’t have that on the menu,” Tish replied. But Priestly looked over with a grin. He met your gaze, and found you smiling back at him.

Tish followed the exchange with suspicion.

“One Miracle, coming up!” Priestly called out.

He had the order ready within minutes, but he was painstaking about it, not an olive out of place. He wrapped it up nicely and walked it over to the register himself, placing it in front of you on the counter.

“Well, hi there,” he greeted.

A familiar blush spread across your face, just as endearing as he remembered. The only thing different about you so far was your clothes. No longer dressed to the nines, you were more casual in your jeans, ankle boots, and V-necked top.

In every other way, you were the same. It might’ve been making his heart trip up.

“Hi,” you said. “Got a minute, Miracle Man?”

Priestly ducked his head, hiding a more bashful smile. Before he could respond, Tish interrupted, “That’ll be $10.”

You nodded and handed her a $50 bill. She looked at you in confusion.

“The rest is a tip, for the hero makers,” you explained, glancing at both Priestly and Piper. He gave you an incredulous smile.

You little minx, he thought. He couldn’t say no if you were tipping Piper too.

But he did ask Jen to help fill in for him while he made his way around the counter to go to you. Tish just watched the scene unfold with a silent frown, like she was trying to make sense of what was happening. She always thought she’d be the first one to move on.

“Let’s talk outside. Little more privacy from the peanut gallery,” Priestly said to you, tossing a knowing glance over his shoulder. You spotted all the employees now watching you and Priestly closely.

You became a touch more shy as he led you out of the shop with a hand resting on the small of your back. You slipped your sandwich into a larger purse than last time. Then you looked up at him with apologetic eyes.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come back here,” you said. “It got a bit…ugly, after that night.”

Priestly’s brows furrowed in concern. “Ugly?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you assured him. “Lots of shouting and empty threats, then half-assed apologies. But I’m done with all that.”

Priestly considered that with a nod. “Well, good. I’m glad to hear you’re doing better.”

You stared up at his face, and you thought he really seemed to mean that. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling that familiar flutter in your stomach, not three weeks after breaking up from a year-long relationship. Even so, the night you walked out of this shop, you felt free. Like you could breathe again.

You felt like you.

So now, you leaned up and kissed Priestly on the cheek.

His eyes widened a fraction as he stared down at you. You smiled and grasped his hand.

“Would you maybe want to…ask me out sometime?” you asked. A nervous giggle escaped you, making him smile.

“Y-Yeah, I would. If you’re sure you want me to,” he replied. In the past, maybe he would’ve let his excitement get the best of him. He’d be trying to jump at this chance. Experience had taught him not to hope too hard though. Sometimes, getting what you wished for backfired in your face.

You squeezed his hand, earning his attention.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked. Your smile became teasing before you used his words against him. “From what I’ve seen so far, you’re pretty awesome. But mostly pretty.”

He had to laugh at that. Pretty was not something he’d ever been called in life. Weird, freak, try-hard goth—that was all familiar territory. His tattoos and piercings tended to bring that out in people.

But he gathered some courage and squeezed your hand back.

“Well, you’re beautiful,” he said, thumbing at your chin. His eyes met yours and got lost there for a moment. “Uh, really beautiful.”

You blushed further and bit your lower lip out of habit. It drew his gaze, and he gained a little more courage. He tilted your chin upwards, so he could find those lips easier in a kiss. Your fingers curled in the front of his shirt and brought him closer. His hand found your cheek as he angled deeper into the kiss.

Despite the chill on the air, the California sun was warm and beating down on you both.

It was the perfect day for a Miracle.

AN: How I love Priestly lol. If you liked this, let me know! 💜

Priestly Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BP Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28

@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @siampie @sanscas @kaleldobrev

@waters-2567 @pieandmonsters @akshi8278 @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @idiotdyslexic @heartlessdelusions @chriszgirl92

#The Miracle Man #Code Red Prequel #10 Inch Hero #Boaz Priestly #Boaz Priestly x reader #Boaz Priestly x female reader #Boaz Priestly x you #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #Priestly x reader #Priestly x you #Priestly #Priestly x female reader #zepskies writes

348 notes · View notes

howlettloki · 19 days ago

Text

Less smut, more meaningful words with such eloquence, well executed plot, characterizations and world building.

A Loki (Marvel)/Reader Fic Recommendation

If you’re like me, who loves to read longer fics then this blog post is for you. This list features beautiful books I have read featuring Loki and the reader for the past 5 years. This is long overdue I have been planning to do this for a while now. I’ll do my best to share all of them in one post (might probably edit this once I remember more). One thing, I really love when an author finds a way to not use Y/N. Enjoy the list!

Completed Fics

Frostbite by Maiden_of_Asgard

Synopsis:

Iceland is nice - sure, you probably should’ve picked a time of year when the weather was a little warmer, but it isn’t too bad, and at least you’re away from your desk job, right? It’s a pretty big adventure.

You’ve always said that you wanted more adventure in your life.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This one you’ve probably read, if not go check it out. It’s one of the best out there. I mean, need I say more?

The Proposal by BirdsofHermes

Synopsis:

An AU gender-reversal of the 2009 romantic comedy The Proposal. You work for Loki Laufeyson at Asgard International Publishing. He accidentally lets his work Visa expire and is about to be deported back to England, so he blurts out that he's marrying you. Now you have to convince an immigration inspector as well as your own family that you're in love with Loki or he gets deported for life and you face five years jail time.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I have read this more than one can count fingers in their hands.

Broken Crown by Michelleleahhh

Synopsis:

Your betrothal to Thor was convenient - brokered as an alliance between two powerful families.

Your marriage to Loki... is unimaginable.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Please proceed with caution and read the tags. When I read this the first time, I was new to this world but I remembered enjoying reading this piece. I just recently re-read this, and I just found some minor stuff I didn’t really enjoy. Overall the story and the plot got me hooked however, there’s just few chapters that I feel could’ve been explored more and executed better. Still, I enjoyed reading this the second time around.

Fǫruneyti by Evaldrynn

Synopsis:

A story in which a herbalist makes a decision that will drastically change her life, and in which a prince begins to realise that there might still be hope for him yet. A tale of danger, adventure, friendship - and, ultimately, love.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️✨

This one I stopped reading at 70%, I have certain icks when it comes to reading and once I reach that ick jar I’m done. It was still beautifully written, got me hooked and all, loved the progress. What can I say, I love slow burns.

The Devil Inside by Ursus_minor

Synopsis:

You're a free lance artist and just running short of rent money for the month, so when your good buddy Thor offers you a one-off job at his sister's company, you take it - even though helping his little brother out with some paperwork sounds awfully tedious

I always wondered what Loki, Hela and Thor would do if they were 'mere mortals'

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️✨

It’s deleted but I was lucky enough to have read this way back 2020. It was one of my favorite back then, because it was hard to find a long fic where Loki is not the God of Mischief but just a mere mortal living amongst us. I honestly forgot most about this story, I only remember bits and pieces, you’re Thor’s best friend and he helped you gain money by working under Loki, like the synopsis said.

A Study In Suit by lowkeyorloki

Synopsis:

You've worked too damn hard to get into Professor Laufeyson's course, and you're not about to let your pesky attraction to him get in the way. Your Professor, however, has other plans.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Professor Loki. That’s it.

From the Void, With Love by pilotisms

Synopsis:

Torn from time, you have to navigate the TVA with the one person who singlehandedly tried to conquer NYC. Turns out you & him have a future-past. Time is weird.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This is one of the best I’ve read, this is my second to The Proposal. I fucking love this you have no idea. Wished there was a longer sequel though.

Litklœði by GoldTrimmedSpectacles

Synopsis:

“And the sire promised that he would spend the rest of his days searching for the cure of the flower disease which took his friend. And he did find this cure, but not without a cost,” Frigga explained and stroked Loki’s head as the illusions vanished. “But now, when one is fraught with flowers in their chest, a völva can remove these flowers with seiðr – saving the victim’s life and removing the vines from their lungs.”

The Allmother paused and looked at your small, childish face. Her smile was kind and full, but her eyes lay empty and sad. The knowledge of yet to come lay heavy on her features.

However, be warned my child, that with the removal of lung flowers the feelings of unrequited love will be removed too. As will any remaining trace of friendship. So be careful how you give your heart, my dear. You may never know what you could lose.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Hanahaki Disease AU? Anyone? This one is from my previous blog post. Pure feelings. Loved young loki and young reader.

In Progress or Abandoned Gems

Mea Culpa by OlympianWine

Synopsis:

Six years ago yours and Loki's relationship came to an abrupt and messy end, leaving resentment and hurt in its wake. Now you haven't heard a whisper of him in years, until he turns up at his brother's wedding, seemingly changed for the better, and you're thrust into facing both him and the memories you had buried. But a dangerous figure from Loki's past looms overhead, and Thanos is determined to hunt Loki down and make him pay for betraying him.

Review:

💔💔💔💔💔

I mean based on the synopsis who wouldn’t want to read that? Last update was last year, here’s to hoping it’ll update more or I’m gonna have to kms.

Anagapesis by OlympianWine

Synopsis:

You have a perfect life; a loving husband, a beautiful baby. But when it all comes crashing down, you must put survival ahead of sentiment and turn to a darker prince - your husband's brother. Loki is cruel and cold, and he hates you with a burning passion. Or so you think.

Review:

💔💔💔💔

Just when you think you’re falling, he makes you remember what type of person he is. I feel for Loki, but he’s just cruel man. I wish there was more so I could understand him a bit more.

Seiðmaðr by GoldTrimmedSpectacles

Synopsis:

Amidst the fallen brethren of the Vanaheimr war against Muspelheim, the dark prince of Asgard finds himself lost and riddled with amnesia. His words are barbed, his tongue is gilded and his eyes are sharp. He has no recollection of his name or family, but he soon comes to realise that perhaps it is best for the past to be shadowed by the future, and that life as a beloved commoner is better than life as a miserable prince.

Review:

💔💔💔💔💔

I’m a sucker for fantasy and a well executed world building. I love how I’m instantly transported into the world created by the author and I feel alive inside. I wish there was a way to find out what happens next. I just love this so much I wish there was more.

96 notes · View notes

becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 8 months ago

Note

Odd question but - I'm looking to study in the UK this fall, and I'm trying to get to grips with the grading system. Could you explain the grading boundaries to me please? It's different from the US, as far as I can see!

I found this handy table which you might find useful - I don't really understand the US system either lol.

Here's what I will say though - I have many times before seen Americans online seeing the percentages for the UK grade boundaries and immediately wax lyrical about how EASY and SIMPLE it must be to do well in the UK because OH MY GOD I could tooootally get 70%!!! In the US that's barely a C!!! Wow education must be soooo simple in the UK -

And uh. I have seen very few Americans in those discussions stop and ask themselves how much harder it might be to hit 70% in the UK. Which, as the international academic office in every university will tell you, is the crucial question you absolutely should be asking. Does an American 70% look the same as a UK 70%?

(It Does Not.)

So don't be fooled by that! Over here, at undergrad the pass mark is 40%. 40-49% gets you a third; 50-59% gets you what's varyingly known as a lower second (formally), a 2:2 (most commonly), or a Desmond (by sad people. It's a reference to Desmond Tutu - two two). A 2:2 is also the most commonly awarded degree classification over here.

60-69% is a 2:1, or upper second class honours. And then the top level is the first - 70% and up. The vast majority of firsts are earned by students who got 70-79%. Exceptional work pushes into the 80s. It is incredibly rare that you ever see a mark in the 90s, and when you do, it's almost always on maths papers where there are right or wrong answers and that's it.

I can't remember how the US's summa cum laude etc stuff maps onto that, though you could probably find that on Google as well. But as a rule of thumb, think first = excellent, 2:1 = good, 2:2 = fair, and third = you need to be careful and see what you can do to improve (although that is still a pass at university and that is not to be sniffed at).

Ooh, as a final point, though, there's also how assessment works, which again, I know is very different over here (again I don't really understand it in the US). Your lecturer cannot set random work here and there to count as summative assessment. Every module is different in how it's set up, but let's give an example:

Module: Coastal and Marine Conservation Two assessments, each worth 50% of the final grade. Assessment 1: A report on the biodiversity of Ramsey Island in the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park. Explore the cause of the lower biodiversity there than nearby Skomer/Skokholm; how was this challenged/rectified? How have species recovered since? What should be done into the future? Assessment 2: A two-hour closed book exam. Half of this exam (50 marks) will be a mix of short and medium length questions; things like "Define these five terms (two marks each)", or "Describe the process of longshore drift and its impact on sedimentation patterns (15 marks)" or what have you. The second half is a 50 mark essay - pick one of three essay questions offered, and off you go. (Essay questions are a staple feature of exams over here, and multiple choice questions are extremely rare and generally frowned on as being Not Sufficiently Academic.)

Now, in the case of this module, these are the only two assessment points. Both the report brief and the exam paper are registered with the academic office in the summer before the academic year even starts, and both are triple verified - by the lecturer who writes/sets them, by an internal verifier in the department, and an external verifier from another university. This is part of quality control.

If, for some reason, you fail one of these, or cannot submit them by their due date, or what have you, you still have to do them. If you claim for Extenuating Circumstances (e.g. "I was made homeless and my cat blew up, so I couldn't do it in time") then you get an extension on it; as long as you submit by the end of the academic period, you're fine. If you don't, you need to resit it. This normally means over the summer after the main term ends.

But, in the UK system what we can't do is go "Okay never mind, how about you submit a write-up of the volunteering you're currently doing with SeaLife instead and we'll count that?" The reason being, under the UK system that is not a quality-controlled solution. That has not been checked and verified as an equivalent assessment to what the rest of the class has done; so if you do that and get a 2:1, there is no assurance that you are actually of the same academic quality as one of your peers who got a 2:1 for that research report on Ramsey's biodiversity.

Which... don't let it scare you! As I say, there are a LOT of systems that can help you if things start going wrong (always, always, always keep Student Support and your lecturers in the loop). But that is a different system from what I understand you might be used to, so heads up on that.

(I am not arguing that one is better than the other, by the way. Last time I explained a difference in the UK university system I got a very hostile and aggressive American in the notes throwing a right strop over how terrible the UK system clearly is because XYZ, right up until I had to actually say "I am literally just describing how it's different, not claiming superiority," and then they went mysteriously quiet and stopped replying. So to forestall that, I am only describing the differences. There are advantages and disadvantages to each.

The UK system is certainly more inflexible. But it does, incidentally, at least free you from the tyranny I see reported so often by US students of the dreaded Tenured Professor who deliberately as a matter of pride sets impossible exams that everyone fails. Over here, that shit Does Not Fly. So there's that.)

Anyway - hopefully that answers your question! Any others, hit me up. Good luck, and enjoy your studies!

#asks #the professional world of careers and tasks

191 notes · View notes

theocddiaries · 2 months ago

Text

Jonathan: There's nothing wrong with my hearing. Tim: Um, I have a hearing test app on my phone. Martha: Let's do it! Tim: Okay. Everybody under the age of 60 should be able to hear this. [High-pitched beep] Everyone: Yeah, definitely. Jonathan: What? You're lying. You didn't hear anything. Martha: We did. See? You're deaf. Tim: Okay, 70. [Higher-pitched beep] Everyone: Yep. Heard it. Jonathan: Come on! Did she put you up to this? Tim: Here, Grandpa, I'll play you something even louder. [Nothing] Jonathan: Okay. I heard that one. Tim: I didn't press anything. Jason: Oh, look who's a cheater. Jonathan: You know, I don't need any of this. Lois: Oh, come on, Jonathan. Aren't you being a little oversensitive? Clark: Oh, well, we can consult dear Lana over there. She's the self-appointed sensitivity expert. Bruce [sighs] Lana: Oh, let it go. Clark: I will not let it go. In fact, I would like everyone to be honest with me, please, right now. No sugarcoating. Lana here seems to think you all have to walk on eggshells around me. Do you all think I'm so fragile you can't tell me things for fear of how I will react? Lois: Well-- Bruce: Lois, don't. Zip. Bup, bup, bup. Clark: No. Let her talk, please. Lois, you have the floor. Lois: W-Well, you aren't not fragile. Clark: …Okay. Well, why don't you give me an example of something you haven't told me because you were worried I couldn't handle it? Go on. Lois: …All right. Last week when we were supposed to have lunch and you canceled-- Mm-hmm. Beyoncé was at the restaurant. Bruce and Lana: Ah, damn. Clark: …Okay. Uh, the singer or Jim's dog? Lois: The singer. And when I was leaving, I-I stopped and I said hello to her and we chatted for, like, 10 minutes. Clark [Nods]: Okay, that's great. I'm glad you had that experience. I mean, I don't know what you talked to her about, seeing that you don't know any of her songs other than "Single Ladies," which everyone knows. Jonathan: Love that song. Martha: I'm surprised you can hear it. Bruce: Well, this was fun. Who's hungry? Hey, where's that boar? Clark: Okay, anyone else? Damian: Well, since we're coming clean… Bruce: Damian. Damian: …you overuse the word "divine." It's just an ice cream sandwich, Kent. You're the boy who cried "divine." Clark: Okay. Was not aware of that. Duly noted. Jason: Hey, I got one! Remember that blue rotary phone you gave me for Christmas? Clark: Yes. Jason: I tossed it. Clark: Okay. May… May I ask the reason? Jason: It made me feel like Ann-Margret in Bye Bye Birdie. Clark: Okay, anyone else? Dick: I don't really like the shirts with the crazy cuffs. Clark: I'm sorry. I'll take note of the fashion expert who went out to fight crime dressed as Disco Stu. Bruce and Lana: And here we go! Clark: No, no. Here we don't go. This is fine. I'm fine, okay? Everyone: … Conner: When I was little, I used to pretend to be asleep, so you'd go. Clark [Stiffles a sob in a high-pitched tone] Jonathan: That I heard. Clark: Well, I heard you all loud and clear. I have to use the restroom. Bruce: Clark, you're sensitive. Big deal. It's one of your best qualities. Clark: Thank you, Bruce, and I'm sorry your Beyoncé-loving new friend ignored you blatantly and blackmailed Falcone behind your back. Bruce: You what? Lois: … Oh, come on, I was there like… thirty minutes top! [Clark breaks the doorknob. He looks over his shoulder, seeing all attention on him again] Clark [Hesitant, to Lana]: See? Farm strong.

#incorrect dc quotes #incorrect quotes #batman #superman #dc #superbat #clark kent #lana lang #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #conner kent #martha kent #jonathan kent #lois lane #source: modern family

68 notes · View notes

im-getting-help · 9 months ago

Text

The way people reacted to Saltburn reminded me of a tiktok trend or "challenge" in which you had to watch the opening scene of Nocturnal Animals (2016).

(I'm not going to spoil the movie, go watch it is beautiful.)

It reminded me because the movie is so interesting and enthralling but it was played for jokes. No one was watching the movie, they felt "disgusted and uncomfortable" even though they didn't even tried to watch it.

The commentary of Saltburn was so similar, it really upset me. It was like people were saying "yeah, we watched it this time, it's still too gross".

Nocturnal Animals explores the tense relationship between the protagonists in a very gruesome and violent way. Those choices are not made for shock value, they tell a story. The same way Saltburn showed desire and obsession and in my opinion the perfect representation of unchecked limerence with the bathtub and cemetery scenes.

I have no doubt that in a few years they will be a new tiktok (or new platform) challenge that dares you to record your reaction of the cemetary scene with no context. And it makes me so sad.

It makes me sad not only because of the unappreciation of such amazing movies, but because I feel we are teaching teenagers to not have media literacy. I honestly feel like we're allowing people to just watch movies like they're cocomelon. And I think is dangerous for cinema.

Martin Scorcese shared in a few interviews how he feel that the popular movies are not really cinema, that they fail to convey real emotion and they don't take risks. I think he's right, he makes a direct reference to the MCU but to me he's describing at least 70% of the movies that comes out in a year.

Everything is simple, easy to understand, overly explained. A cast full of well known actors and a beautiful score, or a passable one, and you have a movie. You don't need a new story to tell, not really, you can just reuse an old one. Make a retelling, a remake, a live-action adaptation, a secuel or a prequel with lots of CGI. You got a movie, congrats.

To me the new movies are always disappointing, they're a way to kill time but never a moment to appreciate art.

And this is why the criticism of Saltburn frustrates and saddens me so much. Cause is not a perfect movie (well, to me it is), but is so SO much more than what we're served on a daily basis. It's rich and complex and beautiful to watch. The score is fun and playful and at times heartbreaking and breathtaking. The actors are just incredibly talented and well directed. The clothing and makeup is just a wonder to watch, going from the cringe of 2006 teenage fashion to the opulent gowns and suits. So much of this movie is a pleasure to observe, to discover.

It breaks my heart to think that the future of cinema is... white noise, filler, the equivalent to eating a sandwich instead of cooking a meal cause you're too tired to do more. So much so that when you're presented with a home cooked meal you're unable to enjoy the taste, too accustomed to simplicity.

#saltburn #emerald fennell #martin scorsese #cinema #movies

149 notes · View notes

cainhart · 4 months ago

Text

The symbolism of the snake embroidery on Vergil's clothes and my theories on how he might have acquired his outfit. (he's broke asf he didn't get it with money guys)

In the first Devil May Cry novel we learn that teenager Dante had his red jacket custom made. He is actually pissy about it when it gets ruined with bullet holes. He then wears a fuckass black jacket, which makes him look embarrassing.

Dante was drinking and using firearms when he was 15 or 16 years old; but he had a job (albeit his job being a MERCENARY. Also twins being European really shows because he was having drinking contests as a fucking 15 year old, god), so he had enough money to buy himself a custom made jacket. But the thing is, we don’t know how teenager Vergil got his outfit. It’s too well made to be bought in a normal store. Vergil probably had no money—though it is hinted that after Mundus' attack, young Vergil may have used public transportation (I also have a headcanon that he didn't know how to open a portal until he was at least 12 so that makes sense) and even bought himself food. These may have happened before or after the attack but let's say after the attack since Sparda, Eva, and the twins were living a secluded life. Still, being homeless and constantly on the run, his concept of the value of money is more like ‘money’ and ‘a LOT of money.’ He had no use for finance; what important was to get powerful and gain knowledge.

So, he probably didn’t get it with money. Vergil was never in one place long enough to earn money. I also don't see him as someone who would kill or hurt people to steal their money (he actually kinda did it in VoV,,, but that was different), so the idea of custom made clothing bought with human currency doesn't sit with me.

He might have used demonic magic to create his outfit. We see a demonstration of this in DMC5 with Trish, who uses her magic to literally recreate her entire outfit. This is very weird and left unexplained, which frustrates me because I need to rationalize things. Perhaps demons can do this because they can infuse anything with their demonic energy, and since the clothes they wear are made of organic material, they can recreate or even sew them back together. In Vergil's case, it's more like 'create a whole new outfit in mind's eye and boom now you have a ridiculous cravat.'

Another possibility is that he had it custom-made, but not with human currency. Demons, or at least a certain demonic/supernatural entity (the God of Time, aka the Divinity Statue), accept red orbs as a form of payment.

Vergil probably visited many places on his trauma blind journey of gaining power. I might overdo here, but what if he came across a strange tailor and they made a deal like, "You give me 70 thousand red orbs, and I give you a slutty vest, a ridiculous cravat, nice shoes and a cool coat with snake embroidery on it." and Vergil was like "Aight." Maybe he was intending to infuse his outfit with his magic anyway. It was a win-win situation.

It's funny to imagine Vergil designing his outfit, just being a teenager for once.

So, Vergil could have saved up red orbs to get a cool coat. Demonic establishments are kind of canon, so that’s a possibility. He was a teenager it’s only natural that he liked teenager things, even in his traumatized and hunted state. At a certain point in his life, he became strong enough to indulge in some of his likes.

Speaking of snake embroidery, Vergil has SO MUCH snake symbolism on him, and on his clothes too! Snakes were adored and respected throughout history before paganism started to get shitted on. Snakes represent wisdom, REBIRTH, healing, transformation, and knowledge. That’s why Satan, disguised as a snake, gave Eve the apple (knowledge) (also, knowledge of the occult was really given to women first). The snake detail on his clothes might even be magic, too. It's nearly an occult symbol on its own. Maybe a sigil? I know sigils aren't a thing in DMC but I don't care I'll go apeshit with my theories.

Whether the serpent detail was intentional or unintentional, it’s still a great detail considering his story and character. He goes through transformation (Nero Angelo), then rebirth (Vergil rebirth party in DMC5), and healing (basically the whole plot of Visions of V).

So, just teenager Vergil researching the occult and being fascinated with the symbolism of the serpent. OR he straight up stole it. :l This bitch split his demonic and human self apart and like 1 day after his human self came to existence he had to deal with money and his first thought was to steal it. Anyway, that's all. Have a good day!

#don't leave your shoes outside he might steal them too #devil may cry #dmc #vergil #dmc headcanons #dmc vergil

99 notes · View notes

whatwouldsylwrite · 2 years ago

Text

At least I got you in my head (1)

prologue

Summary: Abby is straight. And then you move in with her.

Tags: modern au, fem!reader, straight!abby (she is doing some comphet bullshit), pining, idiot in love and it's abby, reader is gay and tired.

Notes: take a shot every time Abby experiences ~gay~

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It all had started when Abby’s nice, perfect, amazing roommate decided to get married at the ripe age of 21 - which Abby didn’t understand at all, but she got invited to the wedding, so she kept her mouth shut about it. Except the marriage meant that her nice, perfect, amazing roommate would move out and go live her dream life with her sweetheart. And although the money wasn’t really a problem - Abby’s dad was a neurosurgeon, which meant he was loaded and Abby didn’t have to worry about anything financially - Abby really didn’t want to bother her dad and spend his money on the whole apartment when she could find a roommate.

That was how Abby ended up with you as her new nice, perfect, amazing roommate. She didn't even care that the first thing you said to her was that you were a lesbian - which she didn't mind at all, 70 percent of her teammates were not straight, she was used to it, even though she was straight. But after Abby gave herself time to think about it, she understood why you said it right away - not all people were nice, and not all people were okay with living with someone who potentially could be attracted to them.

Abby was absolutely cool with it.

What she actually cared about was if you left your dishes in the sink, and you didn’t.

The first week living together was what Abby expected it to be: you both were getting used to your respective schedules, your habits and pet peeves, not talking much - Abby wasn’t sure if you even wanted to be her friend or you’d prefer to just stay as roommates who saw each other twice a day for five minutes. The most you spoke to her was to ask where something was or if it was okay to use something and where you could put all your things.

Abby thought you were chill and confident with the way you carried yourself - it reminded her of some of her teammates, who were confident in a way girls were not expected to be confident. More like dominant? And they had nothing in common with you. Well, except for the gay thing. Abby wasn’t sure if there was a correlation.

You both weren't at home a lot, but usually when Abby'd get from practice you'd be already at home and just out of the shower. Abby felt a little awkward when she saw you in a short towel and she tried not to look at you or anywhere dangerous. You didn't seem to notice how she only looked into your eyes when you walked from the bathroom to your room, water running down your neck and your thighs as you said your hellos. Abby didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with her, because she showered with 20 girls on regular basis and it didn’t make sense that she felt the need to look away from you, but who had time to reflect on it? Not Abby.

Abby would hit the shower next and come back to the smell of food in the kitchen - you told her on the first night that you didn't mind sharing your food with her or even cooking for both of you, and Abby quickly agreed to your offer.

That was a first ritual you two established: Abby'd come home, take a shower and then hang out with you in the kitchen while you were cooking dinner. Today you looked a little tired, and Abby got it - it was Friday and the whole week was hard for both of you with getting back into studying mode.

“How are you on this god-awful day?” You asked Abby with a small smile while you fried something on the pan.

“Happy it’s the end of the week.” Abby sighed and leaned back on her chair, relaxing. “Profs are already talking about the finals, so annoying. We just had one class, calm the fuck down.”

“Yeah. It’s bad for you med students.” You said with no actual compassion, but with a smile. “Sorry, I’m going to remind you that this misery is your choice every time when you’ll be on the brink of death during finals.”

Abby laughed at that.

“Unfortunately for you I’m not the one to complain about my choices.” Abby shot back and you laughed.

“That’s admirable.” You nodded your head in theatrical appreciation. “Then you can make fun of me during finals because I will be complaining about every little thing. In a funny way, don’t worry.”

“Thanks for clarification.” Abby chuckled.

“Do you want to watch something after we eat?” You asked casually and Abby felt her heart beating faster - you wanted to be friends with her after all!

"Yeah, sure."

You smiled at Abby and turned the stove off, taking the plates from the cabinet to put your food on. Abby was cool. She was sweet, a little of a scaredy cat with you - you didn’t think anything of it, you just met, maybe she was just awkward with new people. Abby looked confident with her friends and when you saw her in the corridors of your university Abby looked downright intimidating, tall and strong, commanding. At home though? She seemed shy. You supposed she'd get more assertive when she'd get comfortable with you, but even now she seemed like a genuinely cool person.

You were still dealing with how attractive Abby was, your eyes always lingered on her shoulders and arms - you had a thing for athletes, what can you say - but you tried to suppress it as best as possible. The fact that Abby was so sweet around you didn't really help either, but what we can’t act upon makes us better at repressing, so that was what you were doing for the past week. The best strategy you had was to remind yourself Abby was straight, and it was working, especially if she gave you compliments the way only straight girls did, with this high tone at the end - if Abby wasn’t that buff she’d probably ask where did you get something just to finish you. Thank god you had a very different taste in clothes.

You finished your dinner making a small talk, still getting used to each other's mannerisms and sense of humour, with yours being more dark. Abby was surprisingly good at keeping up with you and not stuttering in shock when you’d say something awful, and it made you smile every time she'd make a comeback that was just as good. Again, it wasn't helping.

"What do you want to watch?"

"I like horrors, actually." You said as you sat on the other side of the couch, keeping the distance.

"Yeah, we can watch some horror." Abby shrugged as she sat down and gave you the blanket. "More cosy that way."

You smiled and put it over your lap.

Not. Fucking. Helping.

Abby watched you getting comfortable and something filled her chest with pride, like providing comfort for you was something important to her. Well, Ellie always said Abby was a mom friend, and she was. She liked taking care of people around her, and now that you were her roommate she'd take care of you too.

"Do you like horrors too or do you want me to hold your hand during scary moments?" You asked with a smirk, and Abby huffed.

"Are you trying to trick me into holding your hand?" Abby smirked too, pleased with your little surprised reaction.

"I'm more of a cuddler." You winked and Abby laughed. She liked how easy it was to banter with you even though you knew each other only for a week. "No, really, are you okay with horror? I don't want you to have nightmares after."

"I'm okay, don't worry." Abby murmured and gave you the remote. "I'm not a big fan, so you choose."

You shrugged and went through the list of horror movies while Abby got comfortable on the other end of the couch, leaning on the arm rest. It felt a little awkward, to be that far away from you - Abby was so used to always being close with her girl friends, but to be fair, you weren’t even friends yet. The movie you picked wasn’t a slasher (“i want to be scared, not grossed out”), but more of a psychological horror that actually made Abby uneasy. And then this movie had a fucking jumpscare that made you both jump and curse out loud. Abby let out a small chuckle and you shared a look between you, silently bonding over a scary feeling.

“You sure you don’t want to hold my hand?” You teased and Abby rolled her eyes at you, but her heart was still beating too fast from the sudden scare.

“I’m not a little bitch.” Abby said and smiled when you laughed.

“Okay, big bad Abby.” You murmured and focused on the movie.

Even though the movie was unsettling, your little bitchy comments were making Abby laugh way more than feeling scared.

"Do you really enjoy getting scared or are you just choosing something to complain about?" Abby asked with a smile.

"Horror movies are like straight sex, you know. In theory you get scared shitless, in practice you complain about men not knowing how to scare you." You shrugged and Abby snorted, feeling like this was too real. "Sorry if I'm being crude, I got too comfortable for a second there."

Abby noticed your look, like you were trying to read her reaction if you crossed a line, but Abby only laughed.

"Do I look like someone who can't take a sex joke?" Abby teased as she stood up, stretching.

"Should I assume you're tough as fuck because you kick ass?"

"Yeah, you should." Abby murmured and looked in your eyes. There was a second of silence while you just stared back at her, surprised, and Abby felt something warm in her stomach. "Tea?"

"Yeah."

After that movie night things got so much easier for both of you, and after three weeks of living together you already fell into the routine like you lived for three years already. You became friends very fast, quickly moving from spending evenings in your rooms to spending evenings hanging out in the living room together. It was like you just clicked in all the right places, balancing each other out, and you couldn’t feel more relieved. You were getting used to Abby and your first intense attraction finally ebbed away: you were not going to chase after a straight girl - you were not, in fact, an idiot. And you weren’t going to question her sexuality or try to “turn her gay”, because who were you to tell her who she was? Abby told her she was straight, and that was it. You still enjoyed looking at her and flirting with her, and Abby was an amazing person so it wasn’t hard to like her. But otherwise? Abby was an amazing roommate and even better friend.

The end of September came around so quickly you didn’t even notice, too busy with classes and tutoring and maintaining some kind of social life, because Cait really needed someone to drag her out from the fucking library and ventilate her big brain. You admired her study habits, but sometimes she’d forget to sleep, and you had to kick her ass and make her take care of herself. That was the price of being friends with the smartest woman on campus.

It was again a Friday night when you cooked and Abby sat at the table while you chatted about your days and plans, now so much more comfortable with each other. You were right, Abby just needed to get used to you in order to stop being so shy and you basked in her confident personality now.

“Do you have any plans for tomorrow?”

“I don’t kno-o-w.” Abby sighed like tomorrow's plans were torturing her. “Ellie wants to go out, but I don’t know if I’m in the mood.”

“Well, I plan to go out too, actually. Maybe we can join forces?” You asked curiously. “I feel like Cait would enjoy Ellie’s company if she is the nerd you’re saying she is.”

“She is an embarrassment.” Abby shrugged and you laughed. “I’m still shocked how she has any game at all.”

“Listen. Is she hot?”

“I guess?”

“Then there you go. She has game because she is hot.”

“That’s kinda shallow.”

“Do you really need to get to know someone better to hook up?” You scrunched your nose in doubt.

“I mean, some people do.”

“Then it’s not a hookup anymore, no? I mean, if I just want to get some stress relief do I really have mental space to learn about someone’s political views?”

“So you’ve fucked republicans.” Abby nodded and you laughed. “That’s fucked up, (y/n).”

“You see, that’s what I’m saying. I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Obviously you won’t miss the fact that they’re an asshole, so if it’s not the case, why not? Dating is a different story though.”

“Yeah.” Abby nodded again.

“So are we going out tomorrow?”

“Well, when I’m attacked on two fronts I don’t feel like I have a choice.” Abby chuckled the way it made you hot, but yet again you pushed the stupid feeling down.

Abby watched you cook as she was digesting what you’ve just discussed. It was the first time you acknowledged your sex life and Abby felt a little uneasy. Sex talk didn’t make her uncomfortable, and other people’s experience didn’t make her feel insecure, so she really couldn’t place why she felt just a little icky. Maybe your crudeness finally crossed her line? But Abby wasn’t sensitive to such topics, Ellie talked her ear off with her sex escapades, so why did she feel so strange? Her stomach growled and suddenly everything made sense: she was just in a low, sensitive mood because she was hungry and tired.

And indeed her mood got better after she took the first fork filled with pasta and her stomach was now growling in happiness.

“There’s a whole whale living in your stomach.” You smirked, but your stomach growled too and Abby snorted.

“Seems like you had one too.”

“Whale to whale communication.” You shrugged and Abby chuckled. “Have you ever listened to whale songs?”

“No. But I heard they’re supposed to help you relax.”

“Well you’re listening to one now, so you tell me if you’re relaxed.”

“Oh I’m so relaxed I’d listen to the sound of not being hungry for hours.” Abby said and watched you roll your eyes fondly, because you looked so funny when you did it and Abby liked it. Abby’s phone buzzed with a notification and she unlocked it, but the clock caught her eye. “It’s almost 8, don’t you have a lesson?”

You looked up with saucers of the eyes and Abby laughed at how shocked and scared you got.

“Fuck!” You said with a mouth full of food as you jumped out of your chair while Abby laughed at you. “Fuck, how much time do I have?”

“Three minutes.”

“Shit. Fuck, can I ask you to sort this out?” You nodded at the food on the stove and at your plate. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine, don’t worry.” Abby said gently, trying to soothe you. “Go teach poor kids.”

You nodded and ran to your room to get yourself set up, and Abby finished her dinner while texting Ellie.

from: els

soooo

are we going out tomorrow ?

to: els

you r so annoying

but yes

(y/n) wants us to go together, she is going out with a friend too

from: els

oooh

coooool

you mean I’ll meet the smart sexy lady you live with?

Abby rolled her eyes - she mentioned once that you were smart and she was learning some things from you and Ellie couldn’t leave her alone after that.

to: els

yeah

but don’t be a dick to her

from: els

excuse me

I would never be a dick to a lady

to: els

you’re a dick to me all the time

from: els

who said you were a lady

The audacity of this bitch, Abby thought as she sent Ellie a not so sweet sticker. She finished her dinner while bickering with Ellie and then tidied the kitchen. Your lessons were usually around an hour, so Abby didn’t need to hurry. She washed the dishes and put leftovers away. Abby thought it was so nice of you to cook for both of them, it was warming her heart - she didn’t like cooking, and having someone to take it off her was so amazing. God if you weren’t busy she’d hug you right now, she was so grateful.

But Abby settled for setting up her favourite part of Friday nights: beating your ass in Mortal Combat. What can she say, seeing you riled up but helpless against her, cursing her but unable to win anyway - fuck, Abby loved it. Now she'd just need to wait for you.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #abby tlou #aligyimh

765 notes · View notes