#because i genuinely thought my career path was exactly what i wanted | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

claramelooo · 1 month ago

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Hey, guys!

If you're reading this, congratulations! We've reached the end of this saga! I'm so happy I had the courage to start this project, and it's all thanks to the support of you guys who interacted with me so well that I felt comfortable writing with all my heart.

I still thinking in eventually to write one-shots for them, but I dunno, you tell me!! Lol

and I will definitely write more about the milfs we love, no worries!

Enjoy it!!

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Happy Ending!!!

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat Fem Reader

Summary: Wanda's courage makes her knock on your door after five years

VELVET CHAINS

Love

After five years, everything had changed. You had graduated in International Relations and were working in a mid-level position at the American embassy, handling negotiations, mediating conversations between diplomats, and diving into a routine that made you feel important. It wasn’t exactly what you had imagined when you first dreamed of your career, but you were on the right path.

Living in a quiet Manhattan neighborhood, your apartment reflected who you were: an organized person with a touch of calculated chaos. Stacks of books sat on the coffee table, an unfinished painting leaned against the wall, and Sparky, your Golden Retriever, bounded back and forth with endless energy.

Sparky had come into your life at a strange time, a gift from Yelena. "You need some decent company," she said, placing the puppy in your hands. "Because clearly, you can’t pick good company on your own." It was her way of showing she cared, and you knew that.

Yelena was one of the few ties you kept to your past. Despite your differences, you often met up, usually for quick lunches at tucked-away cafés in the city. She would talk about her work, about Natasha, and occasionally drop hints that you should go out more.

"You're young, smart, and beautiful," she’d say, almost like a mantra. "And you live like a nun."

What Yelena didn’t understand—or pretended not to—was that you didn’t just want to go out more. You wanted something that felt impossible to find: connection.

Even when you went out with your blonde fling (if you could even call her that), everything felt hollow. She was funny, gorgeous, and always willing to meet up, but she knew nothing about who you really were. She didn’t know about Sparky, your sleepless nights reading poetry, and definitely didn’t know about Wanda.

Ah, Wanda.

There were moments when thoughts of her crept in. Not intentionally, of course, but reflexively. Like when Sparky did something adorable, reminding you of how much Wanda loved dogs. Or when a particular song came on, one she used to hum while cooking.

But you’d learned to shove those memories into the back of your mind. There was too much to deal with in the present.

That day, for example, a stack of reports awaited your review, and you had a meeting at three. But first, you needed to take Sparky for a quick walk. Grabbing his leash, you left the apartment, greeting a few neighbors along the way.

"Good morning, Y/n!" called a cheerful older woman from the second floor.

"Good morning, Mrs. Harris!" you replied, your smile automatic but genuine.

Mornings were like that: simple, ordinary. A far cry from the life you once lived.

By the end of the day, Sparky lay curled up on the rug while you pored over a complicated email. The weight of routine settled over you. Everything seemed in place, yet something still felt out of tune.

You paused, staring out at the city through the window. The lights shimmered on the horizon, a promise of vibrant life out there.

But inside you, there was only silence.

After five years, everything had changed—except you.

Outwardly, you were the perfect image of an adult woman: successful, independent, living the life anyone would envy. But inside, the marks Wanda had left on you lingered like invisible scars, impossible to ignore.

You still felt like a little girl, torn between the desire to be cared for and the need for discipline. No matter how much you tried to bury it, there was a void in your routine that no job, company, or casual relationship could fill.

Wanda had shaped you. She taught you to surrender, to trust, to lose control in a safe way—and somehow, that had defined you. The nights with her still visited your dreams, a mix of longing and anguish. Her voice, firm yet full of care, still echoed in your mind when you felt overwhelmed.

"Good girl."

It was a simple phrase, but loaded with meanings no one else seemed to understand. It wasn’t just the compliment itself; it was what came with it: warmth, security, the feeling of being seen entirely.

A shiver ran down your spine at the memory. Sometimes, you hated it—hated how her memories still held power over you. But the truth was that part of you yearned for it again: a firm touch, a gaze that stripped away all your layers of protection, a kiss that said, "You’re mine."

You’d tried to recreate it with other people, of course. Foolishly, you thought you might find something similar with your blonde fling. But the woman lacked patience, or the understanding to handle your needs. She enjoyed herself, sure, but she had no idea that, for you, it went far beyond casual sex.

There were times when she rolled her eyes as you hesitated or became too submissive. It made you withdraw, reminding you that without Wanda, no one else seemed willing or capable of understanding.

"You’re complicated," the blonde had once said after you hesitated to take any initiative.

The woman straddling you moved rhythmically, trying to coax a reaction that just wouldn’t come. It wasn’t her fault; she was doing everything right. The problem was you. It was always you. Or rather, the emptiness left by the one who should never have gone.

Your vacant gaze fixed on the ceiling, your hands resting lazily on her hips, entirely unenthusiastic. Everything felt wrong, each touch a cruel reminder of what you truly wanted.

And it was only one person.

Not even five damn years had been enough to erase her name from your mind. It was etched somewhere between your ribs, buried deep but never far enough to ignore.

Wanda.

You closed your eyes, trying to push the thought away, but it was useless. All you could do was remember the feel of her mouth on yours, the sound of her raspy voice calling your name, the devastating look that made you feel like the only person in the world.

Now, she was on the other side of the country. Probably lying in bed next to her perfect husband. You almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Vision was everything any woman could want: stable, respectable, and, of course, approved by everyone that mattered. But he was never you.

You let out a deep, heavy sigh, so profound the blonde paused, propping herself up on her elbows to look at you with a mix of confusion and irritation.

"Are you going to fuck me or not?"

You shifted your gaze to the blonde straddling you... Jenna? Jemma? You couldn’t even remember her name. All you knew was that she worked in a different department.

Gripping the blonde’s hair, you yanked her head closer. "That’s not how you ask for what you want. But since you’re a dumb little slut, I’ll do all the work."

The woman, who had been about to protest your dirty language, fell silent as you buried three fingers inside her. You grabbed her waist and pulled her down until your fingers disappeared completely.

Her nails were already digging into your shoulders with the simple movement. You smiled to yourself before you began to destroy the poor woman's pussy. You thrust with maximum speed and force, making her scream in pleasure.

You curled your fingertips, hitting the woman's spongy, pulsing spot—bringing tremors in her legs, indicating the strong signs of an orgasm. When the woman came loudly, you pulled out of her.

At least she started to get dressed quickly afterward, "Maybe we can do this again sometime."

You gave her a weak smile. "Maybe."

You grabbed your phone, ordering an Uber for the blonde, the feeling of having brought her here haunting your mind like a mistake weighing on your heart.

As you waited for the blonde's Uber, guilt began to mix with boredom. It wasn't just her; it was the whole situation. The repetition of the same pattern: empty encounters, forgettable faces, names you didn't even bother to remember. You grabbed a robe to dress yourself and cover your nakedness—you threw yourself on the living room couch, while Sparky, your faithful companion, jumped beside you, offering an affection that seemed to be the only true constant in your life.

The apartment was a clear representation of who you had become over the past five years. Modern, well-decorated, yet with an air of transience, as though you had never truly committed to the space. A reflection of your own soul, perhaps.

And now, there was the job offer abroad. Paris. A dream for anyone in your field. The first thought you had when you received the news was excitement. Yet, there was something inside you that hesitated. It wasn’t just attachment to what you had built in Manhattan. It was what you still couldn’t let go of, even after all this time.

Wanda.

Her name still carried a different weight. A name that brought a flood of memories: her laughter, the way she looked at you, the way the world seemed to dissolve when you were together. You didn’t know how she was now. You knew she was in Texas. But beyond that?

Was she still with Vision? Did the boys remember you? Had she completely forgotten about you?

The emptiness returned, but this time with a twinge of curiosity. What was Wanda doing now? Was she sleeping beside Vision? Was she thinking about you?

The sound of a notification on your phone pulled you from your thoughts. The Uber had arrived. You got up, escorting the woman outside, ensuring she was safe—you’d never let anyone leave without making sure of that. The blonde waved at you from the car window, and you responded with an automatic gesture before walking toward your balcony.

You stopped in your tracks when you heard a familiar, yet more mature voice.

“You should put some clothes on if you’re planning to stay out here all night.”

Your blood ran cold at the sound of that voice. A strong wave of denial surged within you. Turning toward the voice took all the strength you had to stop yourself from retreating indoors.

The world seemed to tilt when you turned, and there she was. Wanda Maximoff. Five years. Five damn years since the last time you’d seen her, but nothing could have prepared you for this moment.

She stood at the base of your balcony, arms crossed over her chest, covered by a wool cardigan. Her hair was longer than you remembered, with strands that caught the faint streetlight, giving her an almost ethereal glow. But that wasn’t what captured your attention. It wasn’t her undeniable beauty. It was the restrained fury in her eyes, a deep, uncontrollable fire that pierced you like blades.

“Wanda…” you whispered, her name barely escaping your throat as your heart raced wildly.

She raised an eyebrow, her expression stern as she tilted her head slightly. “I asked if you’re staying out here all night or if you’re finally going to get dressed.”

You looked down at yourself, realizing you were still in just your robe, nothing else. But it wasn’t enough to distract you from the fact that she was there. After five years. After all the time and distance, she was standing on your balcony, looking at you as though she could dismantle your entire life with a single glance.

“I…” You tried to speak, but your voice failed. Your chest tightened, a storm of emotions you couldn’t name swirling inside you. Fear. Guilt. Longing. Anger. Love. All spinning within you like a tornado. “It’s been a while.” You finally settled on that response.

Wanda’s eyes narrowed at you. “Yes, and you’ve kept yourself very busy since the last time I saw you.”

Her sarcasm hit you like a slap. Her anger, once contained, began to spill over. How dare she? Five years of silence. Five years of emptiness, and now she was here, judging you?

“It’s none of your business,” you retorted, your voice harsher than you intended.

“It used to be,” Wanda replied with the same intensity. She took a step closer, her eyes burning as her voice dropped to something rougher, more intimate. “You used to be so good to Mommy.”

Her words cut like a knife. The heat you’d felt turned to a chill. You stepped back, raising your hands as if to keep a safe distance from her, from everything she represented.

“Goodnight, Wanda,” you said, your voice cold and controlled, trying to salvage the last shred of dignity you had. You turned to head inside, but before you could take more than two steps, you felt a tug on your wrist.

Her touch, even after everything, was familiar. Too familiar. Your eyes met hers again, and something in Wanda’s expression had shifted. There was anger, yes, but also... something else. Something that looked like desperation.

“Y/n,” she said, her voice now almost a whisper, yet it carried the weight of a thousand unspoken conversations. “We need to talk.”

“Talk?” you repeated, almost mocking. “Five years, Wanda. Five years of silence. And now you show up at my door, after everything... to talk?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, as if searching for the right words. When she opened them again, tears were beginning to pool.

The tension in the air was almost suffocating. Your heart was still racing as you stepped back, swallowing hard and looking away from Wanda. It was too much—seeing her there, the weight of her presence after all this time. You tried to escape the emotional storm, turning toward your hallway, your hands trembling as you gripped the door to close it.

But before the wood could meet the frame, her foot stopped it.

The shock of her audacity quickly morphed into anger. You spun on your heels, ready to confront her, but before you could say a word, Wanda had already crossed the threshold of your home. Without permission.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” your voice came out firm, though the lump in your throat remained. You stepped forward, crossing your arms, trying to project an authority you didn’t feel.

Wanda didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. She shut the door behind her with a calm that was unsettling, her green eyes scanning the room before landing back on you. “I’m not standing out in the cold while you play house with every random whore who crosses your path. But when I need you—when Mommy needs you—you refuse to listen,” she said, her tone almost casual, but with an edge of something dangerous, like a sharp knife wrapped in velvet.

The word you hadn’t heard, hadn’t uttered in years, sent shivers down your spine. Hearing it from Wanda’s mouth reignited a fire in your lower belly—one you tried to ignore.

“Listen?” You laughed, but it was dry and full of disbelief. “You barge into my house after five years and think I owe you anything? Wanda?”

Wanda stepped closer, and you realized you were cornered between her and the wall. Despite the anger burning inside you, something else was growing—something that made your knees weak and the air hard to breathe.

“Five years,” she repeated, her voice heavy with meaning. “Five years without a single word. And now, when I finally see you, you think you can dismiss me with a ‘goodnight, Wanda’? No. We’re going to talk, Y/n.”

“Talk?” you repeated, almost derisively.

The tension in the room was almost electric as you held Wanda’s gaze. No matter how hard you tried to maintain your firm posture, your crossed arms, and your cold voice, something inside you was crumbling. She was so close now, and that familiar scent—a mix of something floral and woody—invaded your senses, dragging up memories you had spent five long years trying to bury.

“Yes, talk,” Wanda replied, her tone lower now, but with an intensity that rooted you in place. “And you’re going to listen, Y/n. Because I didn’t cross half the country to be ignored.”

You let out a bitter laugh, anger and confusion boiling inside you. “You don’t have the right to show up here and demand anything from me, Wanda. Nothing! You made your choice, remember? You chose your family. You chose Vision. So why are you here now? For what?”

Her eyes shimmered with a mix of pain and determination.

"Vision found out." Two words—only two words were enough for you to completely let your guard down with her.

You felt your arms drop to your sides, your posture crumbling. All the control you had desperately tried to maintain was ripped away. Wanda observed the change in you, her eyes watchful but devoid of any satisfaction. It seemed like she was crumbling inside too.

"Found out what, exactly?" you asked, but your voice came out softer than you intended. It was a loaded question, filled with everything you had tried to ignore for years.

"About us," she replied, her voice barely a whisper. "About everything."

You let yourself fall back against the wall, trying to find stability as your head spun. "And then? What do you want from me now, Wanda? I can't be your safe place when everything falls apart. Not anymore."

The woman ignored your questions and continued her monologue, her eyes glistening with tears. “He threatened me. Threatened to expose this to the church, threatened to take the boys from me.” Wanda's voice was a fragile thread.

You tried to speak, but your throat was dry. Everything about her—the teary eyes, the voice heavy with pain, the proximity—was pulling you back into a whirlwind of emotions you didn’t want to face.

“I thought about killing him.” The confession made your heart stop for a second. You felt the weight of those words hit you like a punch. Wanda, your Wanda, talking about murdering her husband with an almost practical coldness.

She took another step, her palm now resting against your cheek, a touch so delicate it completely contrasted with the violence of her words.

“It would be simple to poison him, and I’d be free—I’d have my boys, my reputation intact, I’d have you.”

The closeness was suffocating. The intensity in her eyes, the tears slowly rolling down Wanda's face, mingling with your own tear-filled gaze, trapped you in a way you couldn’t escape.

“But then… Billy got sick, and I saw no other way out, Y/n. There was no other way to push you out of my life except for that…” Her voice trembled, an echo of a desperation so raw and real it made your chest tighten even more.

Your heart was torn between believing her and protecting yourself. Her words seemed genuine, but you knew Wanda had always had the power to manipulate your feelings. She always knew exactly how to reach the most vulnerable corners of your soul.

“Wanda, I...” You tried to find words but were lost. Lost in the whirlwind of emotions she provoked in you—anger, sadness, love, and a terrible longing for everything you used to be together.

"I never wanted to hurt you," she whispered, her fingers now softly tracing the line of your jaw. "I just wanted to protect you. Protect the boys. Protect... us."

"Protect?" Your voice finally found strength. "Wanda, you destroyed everything. Not just your life but mine too. I spent five years trying to piece together what you left behind. And now you come back, expecting me to believe it was all to protect us?"

Wanda stepped back slightly, but her eyes remained fixed on yours, pleading for something you didn’t know if you could give. "I don’t expect you to forgive me, Y/n. Not now. Maybe not ever. But I needed you to know. I needed you to understand what really happened."

Silence fell between you, heavy and oppressive. Her words still echoed in your mind. Vision. Threats. The boys. She had thought about killing for you. For them.

And despite everything, a part of you wanted to believe her. Wanted to go back in time, to before everything fell apart, to when her touch was the only thing that made sense in the world. But the past was there, as present as she was, and you didn’t know how to escape its shadow.

“Who was she?” Wanda's hoarse voice cut through the silence like a blade—low, but laden with an intensity that sent a shiver up your spine.

You blinked, confused, trying to understand the question. "Who...?"

"The blonde? Who was she?" Wanda interrupted, her eyes burning into yours, her tone a little firmer, almost possessive.

You hesitated, discomfort growing. "I... I don’t know what that matters now, Wanda."

"It matters," she shot back, stepping forward. "Because she left your house wearing the same cheap perfume I smelled on you when I arrived. So I’ll ask again: who was she?"

The sudden clarity in Wanda's words hit you like a shock. It wasn’t just curiosity or simple jealousy; there was something deeper in the way she was looking at you, as if she desperately needed this answer.

“She’s just...” You averted your gaze, trying to find an explanation that didn’t sound as frivolous as the truth. "She’s nobody. Someone from work. She means nothing."

“Means nothing,” Wanda repeated, almost to herself, but with a touch of sarcasm that hurt more than you wanted to admit. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as if trying to calm herself. When she opened them again, her green eyes were intense, locked on yours. "You think I believe that? Since when would you let just anyone touch you? She isn’t ‘nothing.’"

"You have no right to come here and ask me these kinds of questions, Wanda. Not after everything," you snapped back, your own anger finally starting to bubble.

She began, her voice deep but trembling, “Just the thought of someone else touching you, kissing you, seeing you the way I did…” She paused, her fists clenched at her sides. “It feels like the ground is disappearing beneath me.”

You felt the air leave your lungs. Her intensity was overwhelming. "Wanda..."

“You don’t get it, do you?” Her voice broke, and for a moment, she seemed so vulnerable that you didn’t know whether to stay or run. “I tried to move on. I tried to accept that I’d never have you again. But every day, every night that passed, I felt you with me. Here.” She pressed her hand to her chest, over her heart.

You stayed silent, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to deal with the storm forming in front of you.

“I see myself in every woman who tries to touch you," she continued, her voice lowering but still loaded with dangerous intensity. “And it’s unbearable. Because no matter who they are, I know none of them will ever be good enough for you. Because none of them are me.”

Her words hit like a blow, mixing anger, sadness, and a pang of something you didn’t want to name. Love. Maybe obsession.

You whimpered, “That’s not fair! You chose him over me! You can’t just come here and say whatever you want.”

“I had to, Y/n! For the sake of my kids, for Billy’s health!” She snapped, clearly frustrated with your stubbornness.

You let out an incredulous laugh. “And what does that mean now, huh? What does it change in the present?”

She stood up from the couch, straightening her posture—and her pride. “It means I’m divorcing him.” She began walking toward you in slow steps. “It means I took the first flight and traveled 27 hours—even though I’m terrified of planes—just to see you.” Wanda smiled, emotional. More steps, closer to you. “It means, Y/n, that no matter how hard I’ve tried, I can’t forget you.”

You wanted to step back, but your body wouldn’t obey. You couldn’t control yourself and cursed inwardly at the thought that your body still belonged to her, and the promise Wanda made you before still lingered.

“You know what, Y/n?” Wanda said, staring at you intently.

You couldn’t have answered even if you wanted to, your voice stuck in your throat.

“All I’ve been able to think about for the last few fucking months is your beautiful face between my legs.” Her face was close to yours, her breath fresh and hauntingly familiar, tickling your skin. “Tell me, so many women coming and going from this place… but has any of them made you come like I did?”

The truth was that you hadn’t had an orgasm since your last time with Wanda. Every woman who had passed through your life didn’t understand how much you wanted to be broken during sex and then be held, pampered, loved…

“Oh, poor thing… Haven’t you cum since the last time Mommy made you?”

Usually, you hated it when people got in your head, but you were getting close to the limits of your intelligence. The only woman who could make you was right in front of you trying to do just that.

“It seems like you need Mommy as much as she needs you.” Wanda slowly knelt down, opening the robe you were wearing a little. She moaned when she saw that you weren’t wearing any panties.

“Fuck, I love how wet you get for me.” The woman’s mouth was watering as she remembered the taste of you on her tongue.

Your breathing quickened when one of Wanda’s fingers dragged through your folds. Quickly, you took a step back and closed the robe again.

“I can’t do this. You're going to fuck me and then leave me!” You shouted, stomping your feet like the little girl Wanda knew well and missed terribly.

“Y/n, I'm getting a divorce, seriously!” She uses that soothing tone, the tone she used to calm you down when you cried in her arms after a punishment.

Before you can deny her once more, Wanda crushes her lips to yours—and that was the end of the conversation. Your hands locked themselves in the older woman's blond locks, bringing her even closer to you.

“I hate you so much!” You growled, biting Wanda's lower lip, making her moan. “You owe me the best orgasm of my life.”

You rip the woman's blouse, wrapping Wanda's nipple between your teeth—mutilating them, making Wanda moan.

“Has he touched you since I left? Do you moan like that for him? Does your body react to his touch?” As much as you tried. Tried to forget her and put out the fire of your obsession for her, here you were, with your mouth mistreating every inch of her skin.

“No.” Wanda replied breathlessly, her hands tangling in your hair. “Only you.” The woman’s intense gaze as she said this made you shiver.

Wanda pulled your head away from her. Your neck was stretched back as she stared hungrily at your body, “Mommy understands that you’re mad at her, baby, but don’t forget who’s in charge. You want to make me happy, don’t you?”

You immediately flinched at the brightness of her black eyes of pure excitement, “Yes, Mommy.”

Her lips pressed against yours in a small peck, “Good girl, now take me upstairs.”

There was a hesitant tremor in your body as you picked up the older woman and carried her to your bedroom. You sat her down on the bed and stood in front of her, waiting for the next move. You were writhing around, your pussy was so wet.

"Did you enjoy fucking that blonde slut on this bed? This bed should only be used for pleasure if mommy allows it."

You shook your head, "No, mommy…"

"What about the other sluts you were fucking? Hmm, you had so many, didn't you? All blondes… I wonder why that was."

Your focus was divided between her questions and the hand she was using to tease you. Her hand found a path you desperately wanted to follow. From your chest to your pussy.

"No mommy, they couldn't satisfy me."

Wanda finally took a long step towards you, placing her hand on your chest. "And why is that, baby?"

Your breath hitched as she touched the band of your robe, threatening to take it off. Her delicate finger crept into your folds.

"Because only mommy can make me cum." She pinched your clit, making you whimper,

"Say it again."

"Only mommy can make me cum," Your voice rose an octave as Wanda thrust a finger into you.

There was a slightly sadistic look on her face at the sound of your cries. She bent down to her knees, pulling off your robe, leaving you completely naked to her. Her finger continued to attack your pussy.

"You're so tight, Detka, has no one put a finger inside you since mommy? Have you kept that pussy all pristine for me?" You were struggling to stand at this point.

The way she was talking to you along with her finger fucking was enough to make you fall apart. Wanda smacked your thigh firmly, making you jump in surprise,

"Mommy asked you a question." Your frantic eyes met hers,

"No, mommy, no one has touched me since you."

"Not even your pretty little finger has been in that pussy?" You shake your head,

"No, Mommy."

She takes this as a sign to shove 2 more fingers inside you, "Open that pussy for Mommy. When I'm done, that hole will be just right for Mommy."

You moaned at the way your pussy stretched for Wanda. You could feel the juices dripping out of you as Wanda worked her magic on you. You almost screamed when you felt a slap against your clittoris.

Although you couldn’t see her, you were sure the woman was smiling at your reaction. She continued to pound your clit hard to the point that your knees felt like they would give out at any moment.

“It’s like it’s the first time all over again. You can’t handle a simple caress and a slap on your pussy without your legs giving out. We’re going to have to retrain you after this,” the woman pushed you hard onto the bed.

Your hands were gripping the edge of the mattress as your legs dangled over the edge. Wanda settled herself between your knees.

Her hot breath teasing your pussy. She gave one last smack before closing her lips around your clit.

“Fuck, mommy!” Wanda giggled into your pussy, sending vibrations through your body.

Wanda used one hand to hold you down as she fingered and tongue fucked you. Your back was almost arched off the bed.

“Mmm, so sweet.” She murmured into your pussy. “Mommy missed that smell so much, that sticky little pussy of yours wetting my mouth.” Wanda ground her own pussy into the edge of the mattress, the friction sending tremors through her legs.

You wanted to close your legs because there was something building in the pit of your stomach.

You staggered up from your sitting position when Wanda removed all contact. It was like your eyes were going to pop out of your head.

There was a mischievous smile on her lips as she looked down at you.

“What’s wrong, Detka?”

Your body was shaking, yearning for your long-awaited release.

“Mommy, please.”

Wanda smiled even wider as she crawled on top of you, lining her pussy up with your fluid cunt. She was directly above you, her eyes looking playfully into yours,

“Please, what, huh? We’ve barely started, baby girl, you don’t want to cum now, do you?”

Wanda began to grind against you, making you both moan at the contact of your pussies together. The ease with which your clits met only showed that your bodies had met before—maybe in another life.

"I need to cum, Mommy. Please let me cum. Fuck, it's been too long…. I need my Mommy to make me cum, only Mommy can make me cum, please," you were desperate.

If you even tried to touch yourself without her permission right now, she would deny you. The best thing you could do was beg like the hungry slut you truly were.

She increased the friction against your pussy and a small cry escaped your lips. You demanded more, and Wanda knew it.

"Look at me," Wanda gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her.

She brushed your messy hair away from your face and placed a tender kiss on your forehead, "I've missed you so much, Y/N. I'm going to make you cum so hard. Do you know why?"

You shook your head, unable to speak. Tender moments during sex didn’t happen often between the two of you. So this was definitely new, and it was making your heart flutter.

She placed her forehead against yours, “Because I love you.” She moaned passionately, as if those words had been stuck in her throat for a long time. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed my perfect little slut? My little sneaky baby, huh?” Wanda continued to grind her hips against you, feeling her orgasm coming on herself.

“All I want to do is take care of you. I want to make you feel good because it makes me feel good.” She began to thrust harder against you.

You grab her face with both hands, crushing your lips against hers feverishly. She slumps against your body, so she’s no longer holding back.

You moan directly into her mouth as she begins to move more sporadically against you.

“Cum for me, Y/N,” the command was whispered in your ear, and that was all it took for you to cum.

Both of your bodies shook, and your arms flew around Wanda, pinning her in place. It felt like your entire body was spasming under the immense amount of pleasure.

Wanda placed soft kisses on the side of your neck as you began to regain your composure, “You’re my good girl. Cumming as soon as Mommy says you can.” You look so beautiful when you're under me like this, darling.

Wanda sighed, her fingers tracing small circles on your back, each gentle touch laden with a tenderness that felt almost reverent. Her breathing seemed calm, but you could feel the rapid pulse in her chest, as if her heart was struggling to break free from the walls her mind insisted on building. There was a raw vulnerability in the silence between you, a space where unspoken emotions seemed to take form.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” you murmured, your voice thick as you buried your face in her shoulder. Every word felt like a battle against the tight knot in your throat, threatening to unravel into tears at any moment.

“I did too,” Wanda replied, her voice heavy with a weight only she could understand. Her lips brushed against the top of your head in a slow, almost hesitant kiss, as if she needed to confirm you were real. “And every day without you… felt like an eternity. A never-ending punishment.”

“I love you too, Wanda. That’s never changed.” The words came as a whisper but carried a devastating power. You didn’t need volume; the love pouring out of every syllable was enough to fill the void of the lost years.

Wanda froze for a moment, as if your confession had the power to split time in half. You hadn’t realized how tense she was until you felt her body relax against yours, a shaky breath escaping her lips. Slowly, she pulled away, rolling to her side until the two of you were face-to-face. Wanda’s face was an open book—hope, fear, and love colliding in a whirlwind of emotions.

“I have children,” she said finally, her voice low and raw, as if each word was a confession torn from her. Her gaze was piercing, searching yours as though bracing for judgment or hesitation.

“I know,” you said, your voice steady, a contrast to the delicate fragility of the moment. Your eyes held hers, offering the reassurance she seemed to desperately need.

“The divorce…” Wanda continued, her words almost a lament, “it might get messy. Ugly. And I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know.” You squeezed her fingers gently, as if to say no obstacle would be big enough to separate you again.

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was as if both hearts were readjusting their rhythms to beat in unison once more after so long out of sync. You brought your free hand to her face, gently caressing her warm, delicate skin.

“I’m here by your side, Wanda, no matter what happens. As long as you’re honest with me, I’m yours.”

Wanda blinked, her eyes glistening with tears she didn’t try to hide. “All mine…” she echoed, her voice almost a whisper, as though she couldn’t believe the words. A single tear slid down her cheek, and you wiped it away with your thumb, a simple gesture heavy with unspoken promises.

“Yes,” you reaffirmed, your voice soft but resolute. “Always yours.”

Wanda closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. When she opened them again, a determination shone in her gaze that hadn’t been there before. “I’m going to fight for this. For us. I’ll never let you go again.”

And so, in that room where time seemed to have stopped, you found each other once more. After five years of pain and distance, nothing felt more certain than the promise you now shared.

[...]

The irresistible aroma of roasted turkey wafted through the house, mingling with the scent of pumpkin pies and spices that promised a memorable dinner. Through the window, the golden light of an autumn evening softly spilled onto the dining room walls, painting everything with a warm, cozy glow. Sparky, ever vigilant for any sign of food, lay at the foot of the table, watching everyone’s movements like a little guardian.

“Tommy, if you put one more olive on that plate, I swear you won’t get dessert!” Wanda scolded, her voice filled with exasperation, though her eyes betrayed an amused glint.

“Mom, olives are the best part of dinner!” Tommy retorted, stacking a fourth olive in the corner of his plate as if building a tower. Billy, seated next to him, leaned in with a teasing grin.

“Let him be, Mom. At least that way he’s eating something, considering he always skips the vegetables.”

“I don’t skip them! I… selectively eat them,” Tommy corrected, raising an eyebrow.

Wanda ran a hand over her face, clearly resisting the urge to say more. She looked like the epitome of an exhausted mother: wrinkled apron, hair tied back in a hurried bun, and a furrow between her brows that revealed her struggle to keep everything under control. Watching from the kitchen as you sliced bread, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“Relax, love. They’re just excited. It’s part of the holiday,” you said gently, crossing the space between the kitchen and the table with a plate of salad. Wanda turned toward you, her shoulders subtly relaxing at the sound of your voice.

“They’re going to drive me insane, that’s what’s going to happen,” she grumbled, though her words were tinged with affection.

Leaning in, you kissed her cheek, ignoring the muffled teasing coming from the boys.

“It’s only until dinner. I promise, after that, they’ll be calm and polite as angels.”

“Doubt it!” Billy called out loudly from across the table, laughing as Wanda narrowed her eyes at him.

Finally, everyone sat at the table, the golden turkey shining at the center, surrounded by colorful dishes: gratin potatoes, sautéed vegetables, pies, and sauces that completed the feast. Sparky, realizing it was mealtime, lay down again with an exaggerated sigh.

“Okay, kids, let’s give thanks for today,” you suggested, taking Wanda’s hand, who in turn took Tommy’s. The chain was formed. Billy glanced sideways at his brother before offering a small smile.

“I’m thankful for this new house and for Mom’s cooking,” Tommy said first, surprising everyone with his sincerity. Wanda blinked, clearly moved, but held herself together.

Billy, ever practical, smirked and said, “I’m thankful Sparky didn’t eat my snack this week. And for that pumpkin pie over there.”

Everyone laughed, breaking the momentary seriousness. Wanda squeezed your hand gently before speaking.

“I’m thankful for the family I chose and for the peace we have here. None of this would be possible without you.” She looked directly at you, her green eyes full of a tenderness that seemed to envelop her entirely.

You smiled, feeling your heart warm. “And I’m thankful for all of you. For being together, healthy, and happy. That’s all that matters.”

That night, as the boys slept in the room next door and Sparky snored at the foot of the couch, you and Wanda found each other in the small space of your new home, cups of tea in hand. The soft lights of the room illuminated only your faces, creating an intimate and cozy bubble.

“Do you realize we’re here now? Together. Like a family,” Wanda murmured, her voice tinged with a sweet incredulity. “I never imagined my life could be like this.”

“You deserve this, Wanda. You deserve love, you deserve peace.”

She smiled softly, her eyes glinting with some distant memory. “That trip to Paris… it was the best surprise I’ve ever had.”

You laughed, fondly recalling the moment. Wanda thought you were taking her just to celebrate your vacation, but both of you had a secret plan. On the first night, under the illuminated Eiffel Tower, you took her to dinner, pulled a ring from your pocket, and knelt before her. Wanda’s smile and tears were enough to calm any nerves.

What you hadn’t expected, however, was that she also had a ring hidden in her bag.

“It’s funny how we proposed to each other at the same time,” you said, laughing softly.

“I knew we were meant to be; I just needed a ring to make it official,” Wanda joked, leaning into you.

The memories mingled with the present: family dinners, the twins’ laughter, Sparky’s innocent antics, and the love that overflowed in every touch and shared glance between you. Life went on, and that moment was just a snapshot of a story that would continue long after the readers’ eyes closed.

Destiny is a quiet and unpredictable force, weaving invisible threads between souls that, somehow, were meant to find each other. Sometimes, it acts as a whisper in the wind, a shared glance in a church that grows into a grand story, the kind so impactful they become unpublishable.

The best love stories are the ones eyes can’t read, the ones words aren’t enough to tell. They are the stories that are felt or dreamed.

Some loves are born as sparks: they shine brightly but end in the same breath that started them. Others, however, carry eternity in the eyes of those who live them. They are built over years, with patience, courage, and even silence. These loves withstand time, crossing generations, and when life ends, they find a way to continue. Perhaps in another era, perhaps in another skin, but never in another heart. Because there are loves that don’t belong to just one life. They belong to destiny, and destiny, however whimsical, always finds a way to perpetuate what was born to be eternal.

We are all like pieces of coins that children break in half as keepsakes—turning one into two, like flounders—and each of us is always searching for our corresponding half.

And so all this commotion is a relic of that original state of ours, from when we were whole, and now, when we long for and pursue that primordial wholeness, we say we are in love.

And that was it. You had found your other half. Wanda was your primordial wholeness, and you were hers. The world might change around you, but that—that silent and secure love between you—would remain, unbreakable as velvet chains.

~*~

Thankiuuu so much for you read Velvet Chains!!! YEYY

I hope the ending met your expectations!

I dunno if i'll write anything before Christimas, so... MERRY CHRISTMAS you gayyys!

Tag list <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580 @valentine585

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @bees-for-brains @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @sheriffswan-blog @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000

#mommy wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #mommy k!nk #elizabeth olsen x reader #lgbtq #lgbtqia #mommy k1nk #wanda x you #wlw post #lesbian #lesbianism #bd/sm brat #bd/sm community #bd/sm kink

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mynicosensesaretingling · 1 year ago

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Lost in the moment (part 1)

Nico Rosberg x fem!reader

Summary: Throughout her career as a motorsport journalist, (Y/N) has established a special relationship with Nico. But what happens when unfortunate circumstances keep her from being there for him during the most important moment of his career? (part 1 of 2)

Warnings: Other than some angst there isn't any, female reader

Note: Noticing the lack of Nico fanfiction, I've decided to turn my dreams into an actual story. No worries, there will be a second part!

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/mynicosensesaretingling/734355288476565504/lost-in-the-moment-part2

Hope you enjoy it <3

Life as a journalist was not exactly a quiet life, especially for (Y/N), who worked as a reporter live on location for a motorsport journal called Countdown Magazine. Having been a dream job for the young woman since childhood, however, the stress that came with working in the motorsport industry seemed only half as bad to her.

But this year, the atmosphere had changed as the intense rivalry between Nico Rosberg and Lewis Hamilton, known as the “Silver War”, had captivated the world of Formula 1. As a dedicated and well-reputed reporter, (Y/N) had secured herself, what you could call a front-row seat, which allowed her to immerse herself in the high-stakes drama that unfolded throughout the season and enabled her to follow every twist and turn with unwavering dedication.

However, even though the feud between the Mercedes drivers provided great headlines and stories, (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel tense whenever Lewis and Nico had a go at each other.

Having been covering the sport for multiple years now had created a closer bond between her and several of the drivers and none more so than Nico Rosberg. The German Mercedes driver had always struck (Y/N) as a fascinating character.

Over the years, their paths had crossed countless times during press conferences, pit-lane interviews and post-race debriefs. She had covered his journey from the earlier days of his Formula 1 career, watching him develop from a promising talent into a championship contender. His approachability and genuine interest in connecting with those around him were what had set Nico apart from the other drivers. Beyond the professional facade, the driver was a thoughtful guy, cracking jokes, sharing gossip, discussing the intricacies of the sport, the pressures of competition and even personal anecdotes from his life.

Before she knew it, (Y/N) had found herself staying behind after work, searching out any chance to connect with the German. It didn’t take long before he invited her to join him at whatever he was planning on doing next, be it a walk around the track, getting something to eat or simply hanging around the paddock. Each time she accepted his offer the unique bond between them grew stronger, forging a friendship that transcended the typical reporter-athlete dynamic.

"Sometimes I really wonder why you spend so much time with me." the young reporter once mused, resting her chin on her hand as she leaned against the counter. Nico, who was standing next to her at the whirring coffee machine, shrugged his shoulders calmly, "I have to make sure I'm always presented in the best light. After all, we don't want any scandalous headlines or such, do we?." his cheeky laughter was quickly interrupted when (Y/N)'s foot found his shin. "Ouch." the blond man exclaimed overdramatically, pointing at her with his silver spoon in an accusing manner, but his narrowed eyes were sparkling playfully. "I swear one day I'm going to lose my ability to drive because of you. And then we'll both be out of a job." (Y/N) couldn't help but laugh at his antics. "There are plenty of other Formula 1 drivers I could report on." "Mhm." Nico was nodding while picking up his cup from the coffee machine. "But apparently these drivers must be boring as hell, otherwise you wouldn't be spending so much time with me." He winked at her whilst stirring his coffee, getting an eye-roll from (Y/N) in response. "Oh come on, I know you love me." Nico chuckled. "Oh shut up," the young woman laughed, waving her hand in a dismissive manner, purposefully ignoring the way her heart skipped a beat.

One of (Y/N)’s favourite memories, which she had made in her friendship with Nico, was when after a long, rainy qualifying day and countless press conferences, the driver had waited for her in the pitlane, an umbrella in his right hand as he wordlessly motioned for her to join him with his free one. “It’s raining.” she had expressed, pulling her jacket tighter around her body in hesitation, eyes darting to the dark clouds above. “And I have an umbrella.” Nico had simply countered matter-of-factly, shaking the umbrella for emphasis, scrunching his nose as his gesture led cold droplets to land on his face. (Y/N) suppressed a laugh, finding the sight utterly adorable. “I can’t just leave you standing there in the rain, can I?” her voice was filled with amusement, as she mustered the man, before quickly making her way over to Nico. “I mean,” he chuckled, as she ducked under his umbrella “You definitely could, but I’d find it incredibly rude.” (Y/N) huffed a laugh, linking her arm with his. “Well, how kind of me to join you then.” She hummed, eyes fixed onto the moon’s reflection in one of the puddles below. “ What are we doing anyways ?” she raised her brow, looking up at him with curiosity. Nico turned his head, a sparkle in his eyes. “We’ve never walked a track at night before, so I figured we’d make it a first. And now that I am thinking about it, I don’t think we’ve ever walked in the rain before either.” his gaze turned mischievous as he shook the umbrella once again, sprinkling water into both of their faces. A hearty chuckle left his lips as he watched (Y/N) scrunch her nose, just like he had done earlier. “Why did you even bother getting an umbrella?” (Y/N) huffed lightheartedly, as she wiped her face with her sleeve. “Cause I know you wouldn’t have joined me without one.” he grinned down at her before pulling her along with him. That night, as Nico and her had spent several hours walking the moonlit track, sharing an umbrella and conversing about everything and nothing, is when (Y/N) had realized that her feelings for the Mercedes driver went far beyond friendship.

In the current tense situation, moments like these were not lost on the pair, but they were becoming increasingly infrequent. With the championship-deciding race approaching, (Y/N) could feel the pressure on Nico becoming stronger by the minute. Being on the brink of realizing his lifelong dream of becoming a Formula 1 World Champion and stepping into the footsteps of his father had led to several sleepless nights thinking about the sacrifices and the relentless pursuit of excellence that had brought him to this pivotal moment. And on top of that, Nico’s biggest rival was his own teammate and best friend, Lewis Hamilton.

Especially now that the relationship with his childhood friend was slowly but surely coming to an end, Nico found himself drawn to (Y/N)’s presence, even more so than usual. Amongst this utter mess, which he found himself in, she was his lifeline and he clung to it like a desperate sailor lost at sea.

Particularly in the days leading up to the race, Nico was confiding in the woman about his innermost fears and ambitions, trusting her as someone who genuinely understood the intricacies of the sport and its impact on his life. She, in turn, had found herself awaiting his late-night calls, admiring his determination as she listened to him rambling about whatever was occupying his mind, her heart filling with a sense of pride whenever she’d hear a faint chuckle from Nico as she managed to bring some lightheartedness and humour to their conversations.

"You'll be okay," she would say to him in a gentle voice, "you've always managed so far." On the other end of the line, the driver would sigh, "But it's never been like this before." His voice was weary and full of thoughtful despair. "And in the future, it will never be like this again." she would say with a shurg, her empathetic smile practically audible through the phone. "So try to enjoy as many of these moments as you can." There was a pause before Nico gave a breathless chuckle, "Oh man, what would I do without you?"

On the day of the race, as Nico prepared for taking on the track, he couldn't help but think of (Y/N) and how she had supported him over the last few weeks, reassuring him and quite literally keeping him sane as the situation within his team steadily deteriorated.

His blue eyes scanned the area outside of the Mercedes garage. Unable to spot his friend in any of the spots she’d usually be in, Nico approached one of the stewards. “Hey, sorry,” he tried to sound nonchalant “Have you seen the Countdown crew?” his eyes nervously flitted around the paddock, before landing back on the steward. “Countdown Magazine? No, I don’t think I have seen them anywhere on the track today.” the older man answered, a rough hand scratching away at his beard. “Thank you.” Nico shortly nodded, before abruptly turning on his heels and making his way back into the garage with tense shoulders. (Y/N)’s absence from the paddock weighed heavily on his mind. She had promised him to be there today and she’d usually come in amongst the first wave of reporters. Why wasn’t she there yet? Nico combed his fingers through his hair , lost in thought. Shaking his head, he felt his team’s eyes on his form. She’d surely be at the paddock in no time, he thought, deciding that for now, it would do him better to focus on the race and his strategies, in order to secure the championship.

What Nico didn't know, however, was that just mere moments before the gates to the paddock were opened, the boss of Countdown Magazine had abruptly fired (Y/N) at short notice.

With her heartbeat pounding in her ears, the only thing the young journalist had been able to understand through the speaker of her cell phone was that the magazine needed a “breath of fresh air” and therefore had decided to get rid of their motorsport department in the composition in which it had existed until then…or something like that. (Y/N) wasn't entirely sure, as she was overcome with panic as her thoughts flew straight to Nico.

Just the night before, she had promised him on the phone that she would never miss the most important race of his career and now she was sitting in her hotel room, unemployed, with no access to the paddock and no way to get a ticket to the race because the tickets had already sold out weeks ago.

Had a champion of misfortune been crowned that night, she was sure that no one would have been able to deprive her of that victory. Shaky fingers dialled Nico's number, which she by now knew better than she did her own, the cheap wood of the hotel bed creaking as (Y/N)'s leg bobbed up and down in unease. With each ring of the call, her breath caught in her throat. The ex-reporter knew the driver too well by now to have expected him to use his cell phone so close to the race, but what other option did she have? She pressed the phone to her ear for a few more moments, each second more painful than the last, wide eyes staring blankly at the F1 broadcast on her TV screen. It was only when the drivers left their garages to get into formation that she dropped the cell phone from her ear and threw it onto the mattress behind her with a loud "Fuck!", followed by a strangled sob whilst desperate fingers pulled at her hair.

As the race unfolded, the tension in the air was palpable. Nico and Lewis were locked in a fierce battle for the championship and every corner, every lap, seemed to carry the weight of each driver’s dreams. When Nico finally crossed the finish line , securing his victory, he felt a mix of euphoria and disbelief. After this particularly demanding season, he could finally breathe a sigh of relief, having fulfilled his life-long dream of winning a World Driver’s Championship title.

The moment Nico stepped onto the podium to accept the championship trophy, he couldn’t help himself but to scan the crowd of reporters, still hoping to catch a glimpse of (Y/N). She had to be there, after all that’s what she had promised him. Yet, his friend still remained conspicuously absent.

Nico held the coveted trophy high, the cheers of the crowd a deafening roar, as he smiled down at the sea of people. But even with a championship in hand and hundreds of people celebrating his achievement, there was a strange feeling of emptiness within his heart. As the champagne sprayed and the crowd celebrated, Nico's emotions were a turbulent mix of exhilaration and confusion. He couldn't help but wonder why (Y/N) hadn't been there smiling up at him, especially when she had been a constant presence throughout not only the season, but the majority of his career. The absence of his friend was like a splinter in his heart, casting a faint shadow over what should have been the most triumphant moment of his career.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) watched the race unfold from her hotel room, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. The news of her abrupt departure from her reporting career had come as a shock, and she had fought bitterly against it. Her job had been her passion, and Formula 1 was her life. To be denied the opportunity to report on the championship-deciding race, and more importantly to support Nico in his most crucial moment, was a heartbreak she struggled to bear.

As she witnessed Nico celebrating his victory, the realization of her absence was a painful weight on both her shoulders and her mind. She had been forced to watch her friend reach the pinnacle of his career from a distance, unable to share this moment of glory with the man who had unknowingly stolen her heart. The tears she shed were a mixture of pride for her friend and a deep sense of sorrow for her own situation.

Back at the race track, Nico's initial reaction, unaware of the circumstances behind his friend’s absence, was one of betrayal. Finding himself being swarmed by countless reporters fighting for even the smallest of chances to get a word from the freshly crowned champion, he couldn’t help the bitterness he began to feel towards (Y/N). If all of these random journalist could have turned up, then why couldn’t his dearest friend do the same for him. The longer Nico thought about it, the more he questioned his relationship with (Y/N), something which he had valued so highly up until that very moment.

She hadn’t just used him to boost her journalism career, had she? As much as he wanted to shake the thought, the champion couldn’t stop the idea of having been used solely for thrilling stories and eye-catching headlines to consume him, clouding his mind as the pain of having been abandoned by the woman, whom he had opened himself up to, right when he needed her most, sank in.

His heart was clouded by hurt, and the insufferable ache of believing he had been manipulated by someone he had grown to trust and even developed some sort of feelings for was something he didn't know whether he could cope with.

How could a person whom he valued so highly and would give anything for, be so selfish and leave him standing there like that, clutching his fulfilled lifelong dream in his hand and yet still feeling a hole in his heart. Had his feelings really blinded him to such an extent that he hadn't realized (Y/N)'s true nature, or had his heart perhaps never wished to recognize it in the first place ?

“Mr.Rosberg!” the shout of his name pulled the driver out of his thoughts. Blinking, his eyes travelled up the arm currently shoving a microphone into his face, before settling on the face of the reporter, whose red lips were pulled into an impatient smile. “I am sorry, I didn’t quite catch your question.” he mindlessly gestured around with his hand, hoping to come across as if he really hadn't caught the question in the bustling scenery.

He raised his brows, a half-heartedly apologetic smile on his lips as he kept his attentive eyes on the reporter while waiting for her to repeat what she had just asked. The reporter laughed in a put-on fashion and Nico had to wrestle with himself to refrain from rolling his eyes.

"So," the woman thrust the microphone even further into his face, "I'd be really interested to know whether there was anyone who helped you get through this difficult season, or whether it was all down to you?" Almost immediately the driver put on the mask of a cocky smile. "No, all of that was entirely down to me and I dare say I managed pretty darn well." Nico’s hair bobbed as he nodded towards his trophy. His smile grew painful as he was intent on ignoring the extent of the lie he had just told and the pang of pain, that the conscious erasure of his relationship with (Y/N) caused deep within his core.

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #nico rosberg #f1 fandom #f1 drivers #f1 fanfic #nico rosberg x reader #f1 reader insert #f1 x you #nico rosberg x you #nico rosberg imagine #f1 drivers x reader #f1 grid x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 grid

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blueesnow · 4 months ago

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(10/10) Chill out time ~Welcome to the Antiques~ - LE Event Story Translation (UR Reiji, SR Otoya)

Synopsis: Reiji and Otoya, who were casted to appear in a drama, had to come up with their own ideas for the settings of it, such as what kind of store will they be running for and their roles in the scenario. During that moment, Reiji suddenly remembered about the concerns he had received from his listeners on his radio program regarding their career paths…

Ch 1:

Currently on the radio program recording. Reiji: And the one we listened to just now was "SONG LETTER" by us, QUARTET NIGHT. Reiji: Now then, on to the next one… We'll be reading the letters that we received from everyone~ Reiji: This time we decided to put up "career path" as a theme for the request submission… And oh boy, there were so many that came in. Reiji: And that's why for today, we're going to just showcase a few of them and I'll try my best to reply them! Reiji: Without further ado, we're going to start with our first letter! With radio name, "Rei-chan I love you". Thank you☆ Reiji: "Rei-chan, please listen. I've been rejected by more than 30 companies on my job interviews… Just what exactly should I do?" Reiji: Uh… that's pretty heavy. On to the next one, with "Ebi Mayo-san" who's also asking about job-related concern. Reiji: ”Reiji-san, please help me! I'm the only one who can't decide whether to go get a job or go to college!". This one is also quite a difficult problem. Reiji: And for the last one…is here. With radio name "I want to be healed". Reiji: "I'm having a hard time studying for entrance exam, and I'm worried sick about what would happen if I were to fail.” Reiji: Hmm, I understand how you feel. No matter how hard we try our best, all of the “what ifs” tend to pop into our head. Reiji: Now then… For the three letters that I read just now, they actually have "one thing in common". Did everyone notice it? Reiji: Whether it's about an entrance exam or job hunting, they're both are very tough because they're a major events that affects our life. And the road to getting there is steep and difficult. Reiji: At times like these, I'd think to myself that maybe it's a good idea to take a break if things are really tough and there's just nothing that we can do. Reiji: However, when I looked at all of the letters just now… I can genuinely sense everyone's feelings from it, that they still wanted to try again and do their best. Reiji: And I think having someone supporting you during this time will give you a courage to take a step forward. Reiji: That's why I will continue to support everyone, including ones that I can't read for today too. Reiji: And someday… Once you finally managed to get a vision for the future, then I'd love if you could tell me that during our concert or event. Reiji: Until then, I'll always continue being an idol and wait for you all ♪ - Reiji: And next we'll be airing this song. Good luck, everyone! I'll always be with you!

Ch 2:

-Reiji's Car- Reiji: (There were still quite a lot of letters that I couldn't read during the radio program huh) Reiji: (I guess everyone is more or less concerned about their own career paths~) Reiji: (Hmm…. Is there anything more that I can do for them?) Reiji: (I always received a lot of powers from everyone, and I do wanted to pay them back but) Reiji: Not only just on radio, if I could also cheer them up in some other waysー Reiji: Oh no! I'm too deep in my thought that I didn't even realize it was already this time. Reiji: (Now then, after this I have a meeting for that new drama that was about to start) Reiji: (I've looked over the proposal several times but… it seems like this one might be quite a huge challenge) Reiji: (Not to mention, I'll also be co-starring with Otoyan! This might be quite a lively and fun set☆) -TV Station's Conference Room- Otoya: Oh, Rei-chan! Have you seen the proposal for the drama yet? Otoya: I've been so excited for it. I keep reading them all over and over. Reiji: Oh, that's great~! I can really feel Otoyan's enthusiasm. Otoya: Hehe. But even so, isn't the way this drama being filmed is quite unusual? Reiji: You're right. I've actually been in a lot of projects, including ones from my childhood, but… Reiji: It's my first time to encounter one with this much freedom, so I think this might be quite a good experience for us. Otoya: Yep! As long as Rei-chan's with me in this drama, I believe that we can create something amazing! Reiji: Otoyan… Rei-chan is getting more and more fired up☆ Let's both do our best to make this project successful!

Ch 3:

After the meeting for the drama. Otoya: Hey, Rei-chan. I told you this before but… Otoya: As I thought, isn't this drama just amazing!? It has too much freedom! Reiji: Well~ It was definitely a lot than I expected. And to think that for the settingー Reiji: All that we know is that "we're running a store together" and "we've been friends since teenager"! Reiji: For our roles and what kind of store will it be, we're allowed to decide it by ourselves! Reiji: In fact, they even told us that we could also come up with what kind of scenario will it be if we want to! Reiji: Seriously, this is the first time that I've seen a drama that offer this much freedom. Otoya: Yeah… But on the other hand, it might also help us show and convey our feelings into it. Otoya: When I thought about it, it made me even more motivated! We need to start brainstorming right away! Reiji: Oh, that's the spirit~! You have to be like that if you want to survive in this industry♪ Reiji: …But, although what Otoyan said is true, I think this also came with a pretty big responsibility. Reiji: Depending on the setting and the story that we need to come up, it will affect everything that everyone need to prepare, including the location, the advertisement and the content of the drama. Otoya: Oh, you're right. That means we're going to need a lot of help from everyone around more than the usual drama shooting… Otoya: …But even so, there's this a strong part of me that wants to make this drama fun and enjoyable. Otoya: I'm sure it's going to be a difficult road, but I want to try and give it my all! Reiji: As expected of my Kouhai☆ I knew that Otoyan would say that. Reiji: I also feel the same way! I mean, it'd be such a shame not to enjoy such a wonderful project that was given to us☆ Reiji: This time we'll be working on it right off from the scratch, and surely there'll be a lot of things that we need to think about together but… Once again, please take care of me Otoyan♪ Otoya: Yep! Likewise, I'm in your care too!

Ch 4:

On the way home after the meeting. Reiji: Now then… for the store that we'll be handling for the drama later, what kind of store shall it be? Otoya: Hmm… Now that we're looking around the city, it made me realized that there are actually a lot of different kind of stores. Otoya: A shaved ice shop, a lemonade stand… Oh, a shop that sells out a set menu meal is also delicious! Reiji: *nods* …Wait, all of it was just food-related things! Don't tell me, are you hungry? Reiji: But you're right~ …Maybe an electronics store, a flower shop or a toy store. Oh, a suits tailor store might be interesting too! Otoya: Wow, so stylish! Aa~h, I've never thought of opening up a store by myself until now, so I'm really confused~! Reiji: Ahaha. Don't worry, there's still a little bit of time left before the deadline for the idea submission, so let's think about it carefully together☆ Reiji: (That being said, the stores that we mentioned before weren't all bad but… somehow I feel like we're missing something) Reiji: (Maybe it's because we can't see any convincing reason or vision for why we're running a business?) Reiji: (…Eh? Talking about visionー) Reiji: …That's it. This is similar to everyone's problems! Otoya: Problem? What are you talking about? Reiji: Well, you see. I was on radio recording a while ago, and at that time we were all discussing about everyone's "career path". Reiji: Although there were a bit of minor differences, but all of the people that wrote letter to me were all worried that "they can't see a vision for their future". Reiji: …We ourselves are idols now, but I think each of us had our own reasons for wanting to pursue this career. Reiji: Similarly, there must have been a reason or connection as to why these two characters wanted to open up a store together… Reiji: Maybe it's because we can't see their vision that we can't come up with any ideas at all. What do you think, Otoyan? Otoya: The reason why they wanted to open up a store, huh? I don't think I can think of it straight away… Reiji: Right~ Although I'm the one who bring it up, I also can't come up with any ideas at all. Reiji: If I'm not wrong, our next day off were overlapped together, right? Why don't we go to the different stores at that time and try to think about it? Reiji: I'm sure both of the main characters were also at lost as well. So let's both try to think of it again and be confused together!

Ch 5:

-Downtown- Otoya: Morning, Rei-chan! I know this is early, but there's actually something that I'd like you to hear. Do you have a minute? Reiji: Oh, it looks like you've just thought of something. Come here and let Onii-san hear it? Otoya: Okay! You see, I realized something that might be a hint for us when we're going on a search for a storeー - Reiji: I see… “Think of a store that you would run based on what we both have in common”, huh. Reiji: Nice idea, Otoyan! Very good☆ That way of thinking is perfect for us this time♪ Otoya: Really!? Thank God~ Now then, what would you think will happen if we were to open a bicycle shop? Otoya: We both can ride a bicycle so… What if for the setting, the one thing they have in common is because they were both in the same bicycle club during their highschool? Reiji: Bicycle club, huh… Working up a sweat every day, and sometimes fighting in preparation for competitions… Hmmm, talk about youth☆ Reiji: Ah, wait… if that's the setting, then wouldn't it be more likely for them to aim being a road racer rather than being a bicycle shop owners? Otoya: Whoa, true! That seems even more likely!! Otoya: Looks like we only might be able to manage a store after we retire or something. Sounds like it would be difficult given our age… Reiji: Right. But I have to admit that was actually a pretty good idea. We have a lot of time for today, so let's think of it again more carefully okay☆ -Park- Otoya: We managed to find quite a few good stores, and we also discovered a lot of things that we have in common, but… Otoya: But connecting all of the ideas from there is difficult. *sigh* I'm tired from all of that walking! Reiji: My legs are sore too… Well, it's important to take a breather at times like this, so let's go and take a break somewhere. Reiji: It's just that… It looks like a lot of stores are already on their last order now. Maybe we won't be able to get into any of them. Reiji: Oh well, it can't be helped. For now, let's go find a nearby convenience store and get something to drink or something… Hm? Reiji: (Now that I think about it, isn't this place is actually near that store…) Otoya: What's wrong, Rei-chan? Did you remember something? Reiji: Yep, just a little bit. I'm sure Otoyan will be happy, so look forward to it, okay☆

Ch 6:

-Coffee Shop- Server: Sorry to have kept you waiting. Here's your cream soda and caffè latte, followed by two of our special puddings. Otoya: Wow, it looks so delicious! Oh, the cream soda one is mine. Thank you! Otoya: This combination definitely makes you feel like you're in a coffee shop! It's been a long time since I've had something like this, so I'm excited! Otoya: But Rei-chan, you sure knew a lot of this hidden store. Don't tell me you've actually been here before? Reiji: Yep. When I was at work, a staff member told me about this place and said, "They're open until late, and I highly recommend it.'' Otoya: I see! This place has a relaxing atmosphere, and I really took a liking to it! Otoya: The cream soda too… Mmm, so delicious! Somehow it makes me feel nostalgic. Reiji: Talking about nostalgic, this special pudding is tasty too so come and try it☆ Reiji: It seems to be made in an old-fashioned way, and it's a delicacy that you won't find anywhere else☆ Otoya: Oh, really? Now then, without further ado… Time to dig in! Otoya: Mmm, so yummy! It's as if I'm being healed from all of my tiredness~! Reiji: Right? That's what I thought too when I ate them for the first time♪ Otoya: Now I see why the staff and Rei-chan recommended this place. Everything is all perfect here, and they even open up 'till late too. Otoya: Whether you want to be comforted or refreshed… I'm sure this is a place where all kinds of people will want to come to. Reiji: Yep. In fact, even now, there are people who seem to be on their way home from work and customers who are consulting with the manager about their problems. Reiji: …Talking about consulting though, I also did the same thing too back then with the staff here before haha~ Reiji: You see, sometimes when we got tired of work, worried about our career path, and almost forgot about our dreams and policies. Reiji: At times like that, don't you think it's quite a relief to have a place like this to turn to for comfort? Otoya: I totally get that! Even for idols, that kind of existence is something we want to aspire to…Ah." Reiji: …Otoyan. Perhaps, are you thinking what I'm thinking? Otoya: Yep, totally! The store that we wanted to open isー Reiji & Otoya: A coffee shop!!

Ch 7:

-Cafe Antiques- Ryoji: "Thank you very much. We hope to see you again." Ryoji: "…Now then, Motoya. Once you put away the sign, can you please clean up the table? I'm going to close up the register." Motoya: "Got it! By the way, there were a lot of students here today even though it was a weekday." Ryoji: "Ohh, probably because their exam is coming up soon, I guess? I've seen quite a lot of students were studying too." Motoya: "Now that you mention it, it's already that time of the year, huh. Somehow it reminds me of our old days back then." Ryoji: "You're right… Wait, stop wasting our time and go clean them up quickly! Geez, I can't never let you off the hook." Motoya: "Ehehe, you caught me. Well then, I'm off to clean them up." Ryoji: "Seriously… That guy still hasn't changed since then" Ryoji: "Then again, even though I'm the manager now, I guess I still look the same in the eyes of our regulars." Ryoji: (But, I guess that's okay. To me, protecting this store is the most important thingー) Ryoji: (The first time I came here was when I was in my first year of high school) Ryoji: (Two years later, when my childhood friend Motoya entered high school, I told him about this place and he immediately took a liking to it…) Ryoji: (We used to discuss about our club activities and career paths in this place called "Antiques". We even fought and made up here a couple of times too.) Ryoji: (This place has been around for a long time and our memories only form a small part of it…) Ryoji: (As long as I'm entrusted with the manager's role, I don't want to lose this comfort place where everyone else can turn to. I must absolutely keep it aliveー) Motoya: "..-kun…Ryo-kun!" Ryoji: "Oh, sorry. I was lost in thought. What's wrong?" Motoya: "What do you mean what's wrong? You look like you were thinking of something very important, you didn't even respond to any of my call!" Motoya: "My work is almost done y'know? If you don't do yours soon then I'm going home first" Ryoji: "Sorry sorry. I'll go and finish it right away, so wait for me, okay!"

Ch 8:

After lunchtime is over. Motoya: "Manager! I'm done washing the dishes and cleaning the store. My mission's all complete!" Ryoji: "Thanks. It looks like things have finally settled down here too" Motoya: "By the way… Today was actually busier than I expected" Motoya: "Then again, we have this excellent staff working over here, so we were able to get through it somehow!" Ryoji: "Yeah yeah, excellent excellent. Thank you for another of your brilliant job too for today" Ryoji: "Well then, may I ask this excellent staff here to go out and do some shopping for us? We're running low on our ingredients" Motoya: "Urgh, Ryo-kun is a demon… Uh, nope! Nothing's wrong, Manager! I'll be back!" Ryoji: ”Seriously that guy… Be careful on your way, Motoya! …Now then, time for me to roast the beans I used while I'm at itー" Old Gentleman: "…May I ask one table for one person, please?" Ryoji: "Why of course. Welcome to Cafe Antiques!" Motoya: "Sheeshh~ That surprised me. It started to drizzle all of a sudden…" Ryoji: "Welcome back. What's wrong? Was it raining outside?" Motoya: "Yeah. Just a little bit, when I was on my way back after I'm done shopping. It looks like the rain will be getting stronger from now on, so I guess we probably going to have less customers for tonight" Motoya: "…Huh? Hey, about that person sitting at the back of the room. He has a totally different atmosphere and I can't see his eyes because of his hat, but isn't heー" Ryoji: "Welcome to Cafe Antiques… Hm?" Student who was a regular: "Ryoji-san, Motoya-san… I-I… *sobs*" Motoya: "W-What's wrong? Why are you crying!? …Did something bad happen?"

Ch 9:

Ryoji: (Just like what Motoya said, the rain is getting stronger) Ryoji: (The only customers we have are just a skinny old man who is a newcomer and a student who's a regular in our cafe, huh. Anyway…) Student who was a regular: "*sigh*" Ryoji: (Talk about a big sigh, he look so depressed. …No wait, rather than that, it seems like he's more worried about something) Ryoji: (I've heard that he's been working very hard lately on his studies to pursue his dream but…) Ryoji: (Maybe now he's worried whether the path he wanted to take is really the right one or not, huh) Ryoji: (…I've also been there too before.) Ryoji: (Around the time I started studying for my entrance exam here, Motoya also started working part-time at this store…) Ryoji: (This place has always been very important to us and to the regulars.) Ryoji: (However, after I went to university for a while, the owner was diagnosed with an illness…and I was told that the store would eventually be closed.) Ryoji: (I totally begged him on the spot to not do that and to let me get involved in managing the store in his place.) - Ryoji: (However, as soon as I was given the job and started to study it, I realized just how difficult it was managing a business... I often wondered and worried whether this is truly the best option or not) Ryoji: (I did manage to keep the store running until now but, thinking back of that time, I think part of my recklesness was because I was young) Ryoji: (But still… I don't think Owner knew just how much I was saved by his comfort and drink that he served me at that time depite his ilness) Ryoji: (That's right. Confronting them wholeheartedly, offering them a place of comfort and cheered them up… Those are the things that I wanted to protect the most about this store) Ryoji: (If that's the case then the thing that I can do for now is… Rather than forcing myself to act as Owner, I just have to do things and face them on my own) Ryoji: "…Okay, I've decided. I don't think there'll be any customers coming for a while, so let's do that for today." Motoya: "That? What's wrong, Ryo-kun?" Ryoji: "Motoya, I'll go and take the order from the student, so could you ask the person in the back what he'd like to drink?" Ryoji: "In times like this, I think the best thing that we can do is…providing them an opportunity for some comfort and healing." Ryoji: ”So for today, we're going to treat everyone with a our own personal service."

Ch 10:

Ryoji: "…I see. That must have been painful" Student who was a regular: "Yes… During this time of the year, to think that I got a grade like that on my mock exam. I seriously don't know what exactly should I do…" Ryoji: "I get it. When something suddenly goes wrong in the middle, it's hard to try and take a step forward after that, right" Ryoji: "But you know, there might be a lot of things that you would missed if you never try to to take a chance and walk forward. It's also the same with this store too" Ryoji: "I've told you before the story of how I got appointed as a store manager, right?" Ryoji: "At that time, while I did study in Business Management Major, I actually have zero experience of it" Ryoji: "But… When I heard that this store might be closed for real, I couldn't just stay still…" Ryoji: "I wanted to protect the feelings of Owner and our regular customers… I was convinced that this is what I wanted to do!" Ryoji: "All the people around me told me that I was reckless and told me to quit before I regret it. At first try, I encountered problems and worried a lot but…" Ryoji: "I'm really glad that I actually took a step forward on that day. And I still am even now" Ryoji: "Although it maybe different for each people… As long as you try, I'm sure there'll be an answer coming to you. This world is surprisingly like that you see" Ryoji: "Getting worried means that you're feeling lost now, right? …Just like how I was back then, don't you have something that you really wanted to do?" Ryoji: "And besides, there's more than one way to make your dreams come true. So, before you decide to take the next step and quit…please try to think about it one more time.” - Student who was a regular: "Ryoji-san, Motoya-san. Thank you so much for today. I… As I though, I'm going to continue to walk through the path that I believe in a little bit more!" Ryoji: "Yeah, we'll be here waiting for the good news." Motoya: "We look forward to see you again! Good luck, okay!" Ryoji: "…His expression look much more better now. I can't wait to see his growth" Motoya: "Yep. And besides, Ryo-kun too, you really feel like a real manager just now. Wait no, you look more like a master~!" Ryoji: "Nah, I still have a long way to go. This time I was only able to make use of my experience but, there are still a lot of things that I need to learnー" Old Gentleman: "Hahaha, there's no one who is perfect from the very start. Thank you for the wonderful show you showed me back then, it was more fulfilling than the supplementary drink" Ryoji: "Y-You saw us. My apologies for showing you such a sight" Motoya: "It's just as I thought! Hey Owner, don't you think that Ryo-kun's finally getting the hang of it as a manager?" Ryoji: "Owner? What are you saying…" Ryoji: (Eh? But wait. The hat that he's wearing… and besides that way of laughing, don't tell me!?) Owner: "Although I'm getting better now, I've lost a lot of weight because of my illness. It's only natural that you can barely recognize me" Ryoji: "I-I'm so sorry for not noticing you sooner! It's been a while, Owner…!" Owner: "Don't worry about it. In fact, I actually wanted to thank you for today. My surgery has been decided you see, and I've been feeling anxious about it…" Owner: "But knowing that my precious "Antiques" is still here really cheered me up. And maybe with this, I can finally move forward" Ryoji: "Owner…thank you very much! I'm honored to hear you say that." Ryoji: "We will continue to protect "Antiques" so that it can be a place of relaxation for everyone." Ryoji: "But, we're not only just going protect it. At the same time, we want to provide everyone a comfort drink in our very own way for them to relax… That's what I thought now" Owner: "…That's fine. I'm glad to have you as my successor, Ryoji-kun. Next time, I'll be looking forward to taste your very own personal drink" Ryoji: "Yes, gladly! …Come on, Motoya. Let's go and see our precious customer off" Ryoji & Motoya: "Thank you for coming today. We look forward to seeing you again!"

#live emotion #event story #translations might not be fully accurate as im not fluent in jp/en #after all of those thinking... and not a single mention of Kotobuki Bento at all? lol

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agirlwithdemonblood · 7 months ago

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The Celebrity Next Door: Chapter 19- Embracing Happiness in Texas

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Chapter Summary: Y/N and Jensen finally have the ending they both deserve.

A/N: This is going to be the last chapter of this series; I decided that the story went exactly the direction I wanted it to, and I think that I'm satisfied with a sweet happy ending, because I think that's what the characters deserve.

Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!

A month has passed since Jensen and I had settled into our new life, our lives were filled with a newfound joy and stability. Day by day, Jensen became brighter, more comfortable with letting love and happiness in.

For a while, I had no idea what to do here, unsure of what career path to take but the more I listened to Jensen and understood his trauma, the closer I was to figuring out my true calling.

I enrolled in school to become a therapist, receiving endless support from Jensen who thought it was perfect for me, and I agreed. My life felt right, it felt like I found my home and my family.

Jensen landed a role in a new TV show, bringing a new found sense of appreciation for his life and himself. Despite his busy schedule, he always made time for simple joys like breakfast with the entire family, and walks in their neighbourhood.

The kids adjusted well to their new life here, half the time with their mom and half the time with Jensen and I. Even Sarah and I got closer, we would invite each other to morning coffee and take the kids to the park, our bound over the love we had for the children blossomed into a genuine friendship that only enriched our blended family.

Under the Texas sky, painted with beautiful shades of orange and pink, Jensen and I sat in our backyard, cuddled into each other, embracing the moment with each other.

"I can't believe we made it here." Jensen whispered, his voice filled with admiration as he looked around at the peaceful surroundings.

I leaned into his shoulder, feeling his warmth against mine. "It feels unreal, doesn't it?"

He nodded in response, his eyes softening as he gazed into mine. "A dream I never want to end."

"You know," she began, her voice filled with emotion, "I never thought we'd go from neighbours who didn't get along to this."

Jensen chuckled gently, brushing a hair from my face and stepping closer. "Y/N." he began, his voice gentle yet filled with emotions. "When we first met, I didn't realize how much you would change my life. I was closed off, pushing away love because I was afraid and hurt. But you, with your constant kindness and openness, your unwavering belief in us, you saved me from becoming a man I really didn't want to be, you saved me from giving up on love all together, and I'm not sure what I did to deserve you, but I'm grateful."

I turned towards him, my heart swelling with love and appreciation for the journey we had traveled together. I took a deep breath and pulled him closer. "You showed me what love truly means."

His head dropped as nerves flowed through him, "I pushed it away, convinced myself I didn't deserve it. But you, you taught me how to love again, how to open my heart and let someone in completly."

I could feel the tears pouring down my cheeks, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words and the genuine love in his voice. Before I could say anything, Jensen reached into his pocket, pulling out a small box and dropping to his knee. He opened it slowly, revealing a gorgeous diamond ring that sparkled in the soft candlelight.

"Y/N, Will you marry me?" He whispered, his voice filled with hope and vulnerability. "Will you continue to be my light, my love, my everything?"

Unable to find words, I nodded and jumped on him, sending us tumbling to the ground, laughter and tears mixed in the air. "Is that a yes?"

I nodded and kissed him over and over, "Yes, of course yes. You're all I want."

In this serene moment under the stars, we hung onto each-other tightly, knowing that we found forever in each-other's arms. The stars above seemed to shine brighter, celebrating our love story and the promise of a future filled with endless love.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

#jensen ackles x you #supernatural #jensenxyou #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean x reader #supernatural one shot #dean #spn fic #jensen's smile #deanwinchester #spns

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cryptidfuckery · 9 months ago

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Hey so you don’t have to reply to this but I’ve been having a career crisis lately and considering other vocational paths. One of these careers just so happens to be hair. I was wondering if you could tell me what made you want to become a hairdresser?

Ohhh this might get long but

First things first my mom is a hairdresser. Me becoming one wasn't a case of "I'm going to take over my mom's business" because she's been a sole proprietor booth renter for probably over 30 years now. She doesn't run a salon with other people under her, it's just her and her clients. If I worked under her I would have just been taking money our of her pocket.

But my mom being a hairdresser definitely influenced me! Getting to watch her work and own her own business my whole life helped me understand exactly what to expect out of the industry, and what I would have to do to be successful.

But me actually deciding to become a hairdresser started with me being absolutely miserable in my third semester of college. I loved studying sociology, but school and I don't mix well. I also realized that while I loved what I was studying, I didn't have any real interest in the professions usually associated with what I was majoring in. (Didn't want to do any kind of counseling, hate math so no stats work, research was the most enticing but too close to how school works and I Know would have been Miserable ultimately)

So one day being absolutely miserable and stressed around finals I sat myself down and forced myself to think about what the next 5-10 years would look like. I realized that if I stayed in college it would be to finish, find a job in my degree, then eventually when I have the time and money again I'd go to cosmetology school. (At the time I thought I was going to be a makeup artist. Holy shit fuck that noise. Not for me.)

And it just kind of clicked for me. Why am I spending all this money on a degree i (while I loved) did not really want? Especially when I could finish cosmetology school in under a year with less money than 2 semesters of college would be? Especially since you can start making money directly out of cosmetology school and continuously build after that as you gain more clients.

My final advice is this. There is a hairdresser for everyone and there are clients for every hairdresser. Genuinely the best thing you can do is be yourself and the right people will find you. And then they'll give your their friends, who like you too because you're their kind of people. And you get to choose absolutely what the fuck ever you want to specialize in. You can do exclusively color. Exclusively cuts. You can choose what style of cutting and coloring you want to learn from and you can completely switch that in the middle of your career. You can exclusively do texture treatments (perms, keratins, etc) if you're okay with so many chemicals in your body and bad smells! You can specialize in rat haircuts, which I honestly might try to do. (I have not done one yet. Someone let me do a rat haircut on them. Please. Rat haircut.) You can do everything! Also don't forget barbering!! Whole different school with different subsets and specializations, but many many cosmetologists cross over into both as well! I plan on eventually also acquiring a barbering license so I can truly be a one stop trans chop shop (mainly so I can offer my trans girlies clean shaves between electrolysis/Lazer appointments (iirc one can and cannot. I cannot be fucked to check rn)

So. Yeah. I think trades are absolutely the way to go right now in this economy. We provide services that everybody wants or needs, from hair to plumbing to carpentry to welding to auto mechanics to nail techs. There will always be a broken toilet, an oil change, a haircut needed.

Watch out for pandemics though. Woof.

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namig42 · 8 months ago

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Hello there, I finally finished the first part of a Wyllstarion fic I started writing ages ago. Please enjoy.

Just One Yesterday (Ch. 1)

Next Chapter >

Read it on Ao3 as well!

Summary: Originally inspired by the lyric "anything you say can and will be held against you, so only say my name. It will be held against you," from Fall Out Boy's song "Just One Yesterday."

This is a modern AU where Wyll is a police officer and Astarion is a sex worker. Despite a problematic start, the two manage to find a connection and have it build in time into something more.

---

Wyll Ravengard was a young rookie on the police force of Baldur City. He's been working the scene for a few years now, but has yet to feel like he has made any real difference. Part of that is due to his chief, Mizora, who makes a point of sending Wyll to do all the more unsavory jobs that are passed down directly from her own boss, Zariel. Early on in his time on the force, Wyll was optimistic and very loyal to the people of the city. Mizora saw this and used it against Wyll, leading him down a dark path of less than legal actions that Wyll now cannot afford anyone knowing. In exchange for her silence, Mizora has now made Wyll her personal pet. She sends him on secret missions to chase down certain felons, detain criminals of seemingly victimless crimes, and on one occasion, even taking the life of someone before things could get out of hand with a case. Wyll detests his career now because of Mizora, but if he stepped out of her shadow, the things that he's done would solely be on his head and he would be seen as the villain, not the hero. For now, he grins and bears his duty, telling himself that at least he can still help people while also serving Mizora’s means.

On this evening in particular, Wyll was sent on a mission to detain some of the countless streetwalkers that have been reported downtown. One too many problematic incidents have taken place with some higher ups in the city, and Zariel has decided that the field needed to be weeded out. Mizora had left this job to Wyll, deeming it unfit for the rest of the force to be seen doing these jobs since it would bring awareness to the drama happening with those problematic higher ups she was supposed to be protecting. Wyll was expected to go undercover for this case and arrest anyone who approached him offering a service without making a scene.

And that is exactly what he planned for, though he already felt a wave of guilt and anxiety at the notion that he needed to allow himself to be seduced and lured. When it came to exploits of lust and love, Wyll was a traditional romantic. He was genuine and authentic and wasn’t interested in acts solely of the flesh. Whether Mizora knew that and decided she wanted to watch Wyll suffer or not or was simply unaware, Wyll still had to deliver on the mission. One step at a time , he thought to himself as he made his way downtown for the evening.

Wyll was dressed in some worn jeans and a burgundy henley that he'd owned since his teenage years. It was an old shirt that was a little tight now, but it still got the job done. He looked like a regular guy out for a late night stroll near the downtown park, as if he was on his way to a bar to meet some friends or play some pool. Just a normal person. That’s all he had to be for now, but Wyll knew that he was anything but a normal guy with casual plans, and it made the guilt surge through his body all the more, leaving his hands clammy and his mouth dry.

His intel had told him that this park was a common spot for a certain gang that was known for its promiscuous services. They were a group of beautiful, pale people that often stalked in groups of two or three, luring people away with their charm and promises of a good time according to the reports. Sometimes the victims came back with empty wallets, but more often, they were never seen again. If Wyll walked around enough, he was likely to find a target or two to detain.

Wyll was feeling nervous about this whole endeavor. He hadn't ever had a job like this before, and he wasn't known for being the best liar. Omitting information, sure, that was understandable, but pure deception? That was something he was afraid of screwing up immediately. He had never had a knack for it, and his father taught him that honesty was the truest way to justice. He had hammered that notion into his son, leaving Wyll without the skillset he needed for this scenario. Wyll knew how much his father would disapprove of him these past few years, but he couldn’t bear to tell his father the truth. His father, Uldur Ravengaurd, the pinnacle example of honor and justice, would arrest his own son on the spot if he knew the terrible things Wyll had done for Mizora, even if Wyll has always tried to mean well and do these heinous jobs on his own terms.

It was as he was thinking about his father and the dread that filled his stomach that Wyll spotted a group of three people standing in the main square of the park, leaning on a fountain and surrounded by street lamps emitting a soft white glow. There were two women and one man, and they were all extremely attractive and fair-skinned. All three were dressed in attire that seemed more fitting for a nightclub rather than a night in the park, fitted with tight pants that left little to the imagination, skin tight tops, and their hair pulled away from their faces. Both women had their hair pulled back in a bun with lips painted ruby red, and the man’s curly hair was short and sculpted to frame his handsome face.

He was still feeling nervous, so instead of approaching the group, Wyll leaned himself against a nearby fence and glanced at the group every now and then. He noticed that the group of three began to stare back and began whispering amongst themselves. Wyll looked down at the ground and tried to calm his nerves as he felt the eyes of the beautiful strangers piercing him. After a moment of pointing and the small sound of soft voices, the handsome man with white, curly locks approached him.

"Well hello there darling~." The man approached Wyll from the side and casually leaned against the fence. His voice was low and dripped with sex. Wyll had to swallow before looking into the man's red eyes. "Whatever is a dashing thing like you doing in a place like this~?"

"Just out for a late night stroll.” Wyll choked out, sounding fine enough but feeling somehow even more nervous under the predatory gaze of this handsome stranger. “Lovely night, isn't it?" Wyll looked up and gestured to the full moon that sat directly above the two of them. Wyll hadn't noticed it before, but now that he saw the pale glow of moonlight, he realized the color was very similar to the man's hair. It was a lovely color… Wyll began to wonder if the stranger’s hair was naturally that silver.

"A lovely night indeed," the man said, his eyes not moving from Wyll’s face. "What's to say we make it an even better one?"

Wyll made eye contact again before asking, "what do you mean?" He had a feeling he knew, but he didn't want to mess this up and blow his cover so quickly.

"I know a charming little spot not too far from here. Perhaps we could steal away for a bit and… get to enjoy each other's company?" As he spoke those last words, the man's fingers gently grazed the back of Wyll's hand. Wyll wanted to recoil as if he had been electrocuted, but he resisted the urge. This was definitely a target he was supposed to take back to the station. He needed to get this beautiful man alone first, that way the other two in his group wouldn't immediately be on high alert.

Though he was tense, Wyll managed a soft, polite smile. "Lead the way."

The man with the hair like moonlight smiled devilishly before gently taking Wyll's hand and leading him deeper into the park. As they walked in the night air, Wyll got a better look at the man he was about to arrest. They were about the same height, though Wyll's frame looked a bit stronger and more filled out than his newfound companion. The other man was a bit thin and gaunt, as if he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in a while. His skin was almost as pale as his hair, and his eyes were a bright red. Wyll wondered if they were contacts. The silver-haired man wore tight leather pants and a leather jacket with only a top made of fishnets underneath. His nails were painted black, though they looked a bit chipped, almost as if they had been bitten slightly. Wyll looked at the back of the stranger’s head and saw just how soft the man’s curls looked. The front of the man’s hair had looked polished and styled, though the back looked as if the curls had been left in their natural state.

Wyll pondered this mysterious man, but quickly tried to block out the thoughts. He couldn't let himself get distracted or attached. The more he humanized his target, the harder it would be to do his job. A job like this was hard for Wyll to justify for himself already. After all, sex workers weren't offering any services that harmed others. Though it isn't the most honorable line of work, he didn't think that they deserved to be arrested for providing the services they did, especially if they were being pressured by a boss of their own. Wyll could relate a bit with his own predicament, but he shoved that thought right out just as fast as it came into his mind. If he felt himself relating to a hypothetical, he’d have an even harder time following through on the job he was supposed to do. It didn't matter though what he thought in all of this. Mizora told him to do his job, and so his job had to be done. If not… it may not even be worth going back to the station.

After a few moments of strolling in silence, the man led Wyll through a shrub and entered a small clearing near the edge of the park where a little shack was stowed away. It didn't look like more than a storage shed, but that didn't seem to matter. The mysterious stranger led Wyll with that same gentle grip through the door and into the small building. Inside was a bit dusty and barren, save for a few large crates in one corner and a mattress on the ground on the other side of the space. A bit of the pale moonlight seeped into the room from the small windows that lined the tops of the walls along with the remnant glows from nearby street lights, just like the ones back in the main square. Besides that, the room was quite dim.

"Well now, we should introduce ourselves properly before getting down to business, hm~?” The stranger dropped Wyll’s hand and turned to face his client. With a dramatic flourish of one hand and the other on his hip, he introduced himself. “My name is Astarion."

Astarion, little star. A lovely name fit for a gentleman of the night. Gods, it rolled off the tongue so well. Was that his real name, or one he simply used for this line of work? Either way, it was beautiful.

Wyll was still a bit frazzled as Astarion stared at him with that hand on his hip. He leaned to the side so casually and gracefully, as if he was posing for a piece of art. It was incredibly alluring. Wyll could feel himself falling into the trap that he was sure many others did as well at the hands of this mysterious man. Astarion gestured to him with a relaxed flourish and asked, "what should I call you, darling?"

The way he spoke was like music. He was so captivating, Wyll lost himself almost entirely for a moment, wanting to drop the mission and be engulfed by this stranger of the night. He had a false name that he had planned to utilize for this mission, but before he could even think about it, his mind slipped and he simply said, "Wyll."

"Wyll," Astarion said in that theatrical tone of his. Wyll took a small gulp after hearing his name on Astarion’s lips. "A fitting name for a proper gentleman." Astarion began to step a little closer to Wyll. Wyll took a step back, but after only one step, he felt his back press against the cold brick wall behind him. "It's funny, most people are upon me before we even reach this spot. I appreciate someone with manners and decency. No need to be afraid though…" Astarion began to enter Wyll's space even more, trailing a finger up Wyll’s chest, then his neck, and then his jawline. Wyll could feel the other man's cool breath on his face as the mysterious man leaned in a bit closer. Just as Wyll tightly shut his eyes and thought he was about to be kissed, Astarion leaned into Wyll's ear instead and whispered seductively, "I won't bite."

Wyll had never been with anyone in this capacity before. Yes, he had had sex. He was a young man in his mid 20’s, after all, but that was less about sex and more about making love. There were the few girls he dated seriously in his past and a couple handsome men he fancied, though never approached or engaged with. The women were all lovely at first, but the sex had been mediocre at best. Eventually, they all left Wyll because apparently he wasn’t exciting enough for them. Everyone loved a hopeless romantic until the novelty of chivalry wore off, and they ended up bored and uninterested. They loved the fantasy it seemed, not Wyll Ravenguard. In regards to men, Wyll had never allowed himself to pursue another man before. The culture he grew up in didn’t shame the idea of homosexuality, but Wyll had this feeling that if he didn’t do things traditionally, then his father would’ve resented him, but that was a tale for another time.

The point was that in all his escapades, nothing had ever been like this. All his other experiences had been so tame, so simple and focused on romance with people Wyll had tried to establish a connection with. Already though, just the way Astarion moved and spoke, it was enough to excite Wyll and send a flush to his dark cheeks. This wasn’t romance. This was lust. Pure, intoxicating desire filled Wyll’s mind, and it was beginning to be too much.

As Astarion’s mouth began kissing down Wyll’s neck, Wyll decided he needed to stop this before things got out of hand. He already felt himself slipping away from control, and there was a part of him that felt… scared? Empty? He couldn’t be sure why, but it was likely due to how unfamiliar this situation had been for him. He grabbed Astarion by the wrist and flipped the man around so that it was Astarion against the wall instead of Wyll, though it was Astarion's front instead of back being pressed against the wall this time. Astarion’s arm was pinned behind him in Wyll’s strong grip, holding the pale man stiffly in place.

"Well, aren't you a cheeky thing~?” Astarion said coyly. “You really know how to lower a man's guard. I didn’t take you for the forceful type.” Though he spoke with that same theatrical style, there was a small anxious tone that entered his melodious voice. Wyll didn’t like how that new tone made him feel, but he shoved the unease to the side of his mind to think about later.

"You're under arrest," Wyll spoke firmly, regaining his composure and sense of duty. Astarion sighed, sounding more annoyed and disappointed than worried. "Of course, the handsome ones are always too good to be true…"

Wyll tried to ignore that comment as he continued. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you-"

"’Anything,’ you say?" Astarion interrupted, that playful coyness coming back to him. Wyll paused in the middle of his speech, taken aback by Astarion’s interjection. What kind of question was that?

"What if I were to only say your name~?" The tone of voice filled with sex came back as Astarion asked the question. He moved his hips back and grazed Wyll's front with his ass, grinding ever so gently on the officer. Wyll jumped back, beginning to lose his composure again at the prospect of what was just said. Astarion took the opportunity of freedom to turn himself around and step away from the wall, leaning towards Wyll and giving him that same devilish grin from earlier. Wyll hated to admit how well it was working.

"Wyll, would you hold yourself against me this evening~?" Astarion asked the seductive question with such ease, as if it wasn’t the first time he had said those words. Wyll noticed now that Astarion’s actions were so perfect in this moment, as if he was performing in some kind of film. Every action and word was so perfectly alluring and so flawlessly executed, as if he had performed this scene a million times. Wyll, not knowing the script that Astarion was working with, took a step back once more and felt himself lean against one of the larger crates on the other side of the shed. His hands moved back to grip the edge and support himself as Astarion stepped closer and moved into his space once again. The pale man put one hand on the crate behind Wyll, leaning into the younger man and using his other hand to gently caress Wyll's chin. With the most tender of touches, Astarion pulled the officer in for a kiss.

As much as Wyll should’ve resisted, he allowed himself to be kissed. His hands dug into the wood of the crate as he felt the erotic sensation course through his body. The soft, cool feeling on his lips felt like a shock, sending waves of strange, terrifying pleasure through him and down to his lower half. He had never kissed a man before, and no other kiss had ever felt like this. Though it wasn’t all that different from kissing a woman, this scenario felt more exciting and terrifying than anything he had ever felt. The charming stranger seduced him so effortlessly. Perhaps Wyll was weak, maybe even a bit lonely, but he allowed himself to be swept off his feet for a moment. Astarion pressed his body against the cop’s, using the hand that wasn’t supporting himself on the crate to move gently down Wyll’s side and to his lower back, pulling the young officer even closer. He could feel Wyll’s excitement starting to build in his jeans, and Wyll even heard a moan escape his own lips as he felt Astarion’s cold body press against his.

Astarion broke the kiss and moved to whisper Wyll’s name in his ear again, this time a bit softer and filled with quiet desire, as his hand trailed down Wyll’s side once more and moved to the front of his pants. At the sensation of being palmed, Wyll inhaled sharply and his whole body jolted. In his panic, he grabbed Astarion’s wrist that had just grazed his front and pulled it to the side, gripping it tight. Astarion made a small, pained noise as Wyll tried that same flip again, though Astarion was better prepared and resisted this time around. He pulled his arm towards his chest so Wyll couldn’t twist him around as easily. Instead, Wyll used his leg and hooked it behind Astarion’s ankle, sending the pale man falling onto the mattress behind him. Wyll quickly flipped Astarion over while the man was still surprised and sat firmly on Astarion’s lower back, that way he couldn’t flip over again. Now that he had the advantage once more, Wyll didn’t hesitate to pull out his handcuffs that were stashed in his back pocket and begin cuffing his newfound companion.

“Wait, please!” The cool, seductive confidence had left Astarion’s voice. Wyll did pause, surprised by the quick change of tone. He kept his grip tight on Astarion’s wrist, but had only cuffed one hand so far. The pause didn’t last long though as Wyll regained his sense of duty and began cuffing the other wrist. Astarion’s breathing began to quicken, almost like a cornered animal. “I’ll give you anything you want, I’ll do anything, just please don’t take me away.” He was panicked, but there was still some sense of composure behind his words.

“You’ve committed solicitation of sexual acts and prostitution. As an officer of the law, it is my duty to take you in.”

Astarion wriggled under Wyll, the sensation of his squirming body sending a guilty wave of pleasure through Wyll as the friction in his pants rubbed against him, but Wyll held out strong. As he tried to break free, a thought clicked in Astarion’s mind and he went still under Wyll. “What evidence do you have?”

Wyll froze. “I’m sorry?”

“What evidence do you have that I have charged money for sex?”

Wyll opened his mouth to speak, but then realized that he had none, not officially anyway. All his assumptions this evening have been based on the intel he received from Mizora, but he had no actual proof that Astarion was one of the members of the group he came to this park looking for. Though he made a slew of incriminating remarks, there was nothing that would work as evidence in a court of law to accuse Astarion of prostitution. All he had as of now was speculation and conjecture. As Wyll pondered this new set of circumstances, Astarion continued, “all I’ve done is offer a bit of fun, which you consented to. The only crime I’m guilty of is being a whore, but there’s nothing illegal in what I’ve done tonight.”

Wyll sat there, still holding Astarion’s wrists in place and pinning him against the mattress, though his grip began to soften. God, did he already screw this job up? He didn’t even think to try to get evidence. He was so inexperienced with work like this, with interactions like these, he hadn’t even thought past allowing someone to lure him to a secluded area. After that, his plans fizzled out. God… I’m such a fool.

He didn’t confirm or deny Astarion’s accusations, but he did move to uncuff Astarion. Once he was free, Wyll rolled off of Astarion and to the side. Astarion moved to his knees and stretched his back, then rubbed his wrists where the cuffs had dug in and left faint, red lines on his fair skin.

“I’m sorry,” was all the rookie could muster up, pulling his knees to his chest.

“Oh, no need to apologize. I’ve been handled much rougher than that.” There was a lingering, awkward silence that thankfully Astarion broke quickly. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” The question was sincere and non-judgemental. The bluntness of it turned Wyll’s face a new color that he didn’t even know he was capable of.

“No!” he said, a bit louder than he intended.

“I see,” Astarion said dismissively, turning and sitting back against the wall to face Wyll as he continued his questioning, “but I take it you’ve only been with women?” The flush that burned Wyll’s face only got deeper at the accusation, but he couldn’t deny it. He turned and buried his face in his knees. “Is it that obvious…?”

Astarion giggled. It sounded so light and playful, ringing in Wyll’s head afterwards. That may have been the first sound that Wyll heard from Astarion all evening that didn’t sound so rehearsed. “You’re not as subtle as you may think, officer.” Astarion moved his foot and nudged Wyll’s leg with it. Wyll’s face immediately lifted from his knees and turned to look at Astarion, who had another smirk on those lovely lips of his, though this time, it seemed a bit more relaxed. His eyes were softer, and there was a sense of desire in them this time that seemed more genuine than before. Would he still want an inexperienced fool like Wyll after all that?

“Would you still like to hold yourself against me this evening, Wyll?” Astarion asked, a new, softer, more genuine tone appearing in his voice. There was a bit of exhaustion and sincerity that was now apparent on his face as well.

“I… I don’t know…” Wyll said, the nerves returning. He had to turn his eyes away from Astarion’s face again. The nerves were coming back, and he still had a job to do. He couldn’t do something like this. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to. Astarion was incredibly attractive, that wasn’t the problem, but there was a hollow feeling in his stomach, one that left him nervous and worried. What would Mizora do to him if he didn’t come back with at least one arrest tonight? Would he be committing a felony if he slept with Astarion, even if he technically didn’t have any solid evidence against him that proved he was a prostitute? Why would Astarion want to spend the night with an officer anyways?

As the questions ran wild in Wyll’s mind, Astarion nudged Wyll’s leg again to get his attention. Once Wyll finally met his gaze again, Astarion asked, “what would you like then, darling?”

Wyll stared at the man of the night blankly. Astarion had a soft, exhausted expression that resonated with something in Wyll. He had thought of Astarion as handsome and alluring all evening, but that soft expression was something that he could only describe as beautiful.

“Maybe, for now… we could just… talk?” Wyll said, his voice shrinking in embarrassment. Thankfully, Astarion didn’t seem put off by the suggestion. Instead, he moved to lie down on the mattress and stretch out his legs. “Alright, we can talk. Did you have a topic for discussion in mind?”

“Well… can I ask why you invited me to this place?” Wyll asked, not comfortable enough to lie down. He remained in his fetal position towards the foot of the mattress.

Astarion sighed, “well, to have a little bit of fun, obviously. I thought that was fairly clear.”

“Well, yes, but… why me? Why didn’t one of those other women you were with invite me somewhere instead?”

“Well,” Astarion began, rolling on his side and resting his head on his hand to get a better look at Wyll. “I thought you were adorable, sitting and showing interest while nervously dodging our stares. You’re a handsome young man, you know.” Wyll blushed at the compliment, averting his gaze again. He had never had the chance to flirt with another man before, and Astarion had so much experience that left Wyll feeling like a babe in the woods. Astarion was amused by Wyll’s darkened cheek, then posed a question of his own. “Did you not intend on having a bit of fun this evening? Were you simply a good officer trying to do your job?”

“It’s… complicated, but yes, I was out here solely for work.” There was no point in trying to be coy about it. He had already tried to arrest Astarion, so he already blew his cover.

“Well, darling, in the future, if you’re scouting for workers of certain occupations, might I suggest trying to pay them first or requesting their rate?”

“Yes… I didn’t… think about the details before jumping into this…”

Astarion scoffed playfully. “Clearly.”

Wyll wanted to curl in on himself in embarrassment and his lack of experience. Astarion saw the reaction and only felt moderately guilty. He rolled onto his back once more and decided to be courteous enough to change the subject. “Well, what do you enjoy doing in your free time then, Officer Wyll?”

“I enjoy reading…” Wyll couldn’t help but feel a bit self-conscious about his hobby, but the new topic relaxed him a bit. His shoulders softened and his knees relaxed away from his chest a bit.

“I do as well,” Astarion admitted. Wyll was a bit surprised, honestly. Astarion continued the conversation. “What do you like to read?”

“Stories of fantasy and… romance, mainly.”

“Of course you’re a romantic,” Astarion said with a tone of pseudo judgment, unsurprised by Wyll’s taste.

“And what’s so wrong with that?” Wyll asked with a curious grin, turning his body to face Astarion a bit better.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” Astarion said with a dramatic flourish of his hand. “It’s just so predictable that someone as polite as you would be a hopeless romantic. Let me guess,” Astarion turned on his side again and began to gesticulate even more as he proposed his theory of Wyll. “You love a good fantastical story where a vigilante of justice comes in and saves a poor heroine, and the two of them fall deeply and madly in love and live happily ever after?”

“And if I did?” Wyll said, managing to regain some composure and enjoying the turn of conversation. It wasn’t the first time he had been teased for his taste, though he had to admit, it was more fun coming from Astarion. Astarion scoffed and fell on his back again, waving his hand above his face and dismissing the comment. “It just means you’re horribly predictable, but there’s no shame in that, darling~.” The last statement had that playful snarkiness return, and it put a smile on Wyll’s face.

“Alright, then what do you like to read, Astarion?”

“Oh, nothing in particular. Fiction, non-fiction, histories, whatever I can get my hands on, really.”

“Well, what kind of stories are you fond of? I take it you’re not one for romance?”

“I don’t mind a good deal of romance,” Astarion said, a bit offended, “but I much rather prefer stories of adventurers, revenge, and deception. They are much more interesting reads, if you ask me.”

The two continued on like this for hours, talking about stories that they were fond of and wanted to share. Wyll even admitted to his appreciation for more promiscuous types of fiction, and Astarion was impressed that Wyll managed to even quote one particularly bad erotica that they had both happened to read at one point in their youths. As the conversation continued, Wyll felt more and more comfortable around the beautiful stranger. He wasn’t comfortable enough to lie down, but he did move to rest against the wall at the head of the bed, sitting right next to Astarion’s face and watching the man’s dramatic expressions as he talked about one of his favorite stories, The Count of Candlekeep . It was the story of a man who was falsely arrested after being accused by four other men and forced into prison for over twenty years. During that time, he met a wise man and learned about a hidden treasure that, after escaping the prison, he found and made his own. Soon, he became one of the richest men in the world, and through the power he gained for himself, he was able to get terrible, gruesome, satisfying revenge on all four of the men who had betrayed him. As Wyll watched Astarion passionately recount the tale, he couldn’t help but admire him. The smile that appeared as Astarion talked about the Count and how fascinating his character is, the way his brow creased slightly as he recounted more intense scenes, the way his hair fell to the side on the bed and slowly became a bit messier throughout the evening as the mattress ruffled it. He really was handsome, but he seemed to grow more alive as the night continued, and it captivated Wyll immensely.

“Of course there’s romance involved as well, and it’s incredibly well written, but there’s so much more to the story than just that. I can’t believe you’ve never even heard of the book, but you can quote The Salty Mermaid .”

Wyll shrugged. “It never came up in my father’s library, it seems.”

“Well, your father should develop better tastes.” Astarion said, waving his hand dismissively. Wyll laughed and responded, “perhaps you’re right.”

The two sat in a moment of silence for the first time in a while, though this time, it was comfortable. Astarion lay next to Wyll with his eyes closed. He looked so serene. Wyll couldn’t help but stare and take in the delicate yet chiseled features of his companion’s face. His soft, delicate white lashes, his strong, lovely nose, those soft, slightly thin lips… He was truly a vision. Wyll was tempted to reach out and place a hand on Astarion’s head, maybe even petting him and feeling how soft his curls really were, but he resisted the urge. He didn’t want to be too forward.

After sitting in the silence for who knows how long, Astarion yawned and rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes. “Do you happen to have the time, darling?” Wyll looked at his watch and saw that it was already past three in the morning. Upon hearing the time, Astarion’s eyes shot open and he shot straight up. “Is everything alright…?” Wyll asked, concerned by the sudden shift in Astarion’s demeanor.

“Yes, of course, I simply lost track of the time is all. It’s quite late and I should be getting home,” he then turned and gave Wyll a concerningly serious stare. “As should you.”

“I suppose so… but what’s wrong?” Wyll asked, genuinely worried now. He reached out and placed his hand softly on Astarion’s shoulder. Astarion jolted away from the touch and stood up from the mattress. “It’s nothing… “ he said, brushing off his leather pants. “I just think that it’s late and you should be on your way. You’d be much more comfortable in your own bed, surely.”

“Well, yes, but are you alright?” Wyll asked as he stared up from where he sat.

“Of course I am!” Astarion turned to face Wyll, but that rehearsed feeling returned to his demeanor. His voice lilted in a way like it did when they first made their way to this shed, and Wyll felt a bit nervous. He stood up as well, brushing dust off his backside and looking at Astarion with what must’ve been visible concern. “Wyll, darling, I’m perfectly alright~. I just don’t want a young, handsome thing such as yourself losing out on your much needed beauty sleep. How do you think I kept this face as charming as it is all these years~?”

“Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?” Wyll asked. He couldn’t imagine what he had done, but he had an even harder time understanding Astarion’s new urgency.

“Darling, of course not,” he sighed and placed a hand on Wyll’s arm, and this time, Wyll enjoyed the touch. There was a warmth to the sensation that had been missing earlier. “You’ve been the perfect gentleman all evening. Well… besides our little wrestling match, of course.” Astarion said with a small giggle and a smile that seemed a little too perfect. “It’s just… well…” Astarion paused for a long moment, then finally managed to continue. “You failed in your mission this evening, and so I think it’s only fair that I fail in mine as well.”

“Fail? What mission? What do you mean? Are you in danger?” Wyll asked, a sense of urgency rising in his own throat. Astarion shook his head and made his way over to the door. “No, nothing like that, I’ll be alright.” From the way he spoke, Wyll had a strong suspicion that this new companion of his was lying. Astarion turned his gaze to the door and opened it for his guest, then motioned and smiled at Wyll. “You should go.”

Wyll walked slowly to the door, standing in the doorway for a moment and staring at Astarion. The man with the silver hair couldn’t bear to make eye contact with Wyll, it seemed, but managed to speak. “It’s been a pleasure spending an evening with you, Wyll.”

“The pleasure’s been mine. Perhaps… it doesn’t have to be the only evening we spend together?” This seemed to catch Astarion’s attention. The pale gentleman looked at Wyll’s expression and saw that the young man seemed sincere. There was a softness in his face that made Astarion freeze for a moment. Though he was concerned, Wyll was pleasantly surprised to see Astarion fumble for the first time all evening.

“I’m… not sure if that’s the best idea…” Astarion said tensely.

“Well, I won’t force you, of course, but I’d like to enjoy your company more, if you’d permit me.” Wyll grazed the back of Astarion’s hand with a finger, and Astarion seemed surprised. Instead of running away from the touch, Astarion turned his hand and let Wyll hold his with a soft grip. He sighed, “Wyll, I don’t think it’s a wise decision for us to associate further.”

“Well… could I ask why?”

“My… occupation. It involves certain people that… I don’t like them knowing who I associate with, and I’m afraid if we spend any more time together, they might become curious.”

“Are they often that nosey in your personal affairs?” Wyll asked with a small hint of disbelief.

“You have no idea. ” Astarion said with a deep sigh. Wyll squeezed his hand and offered him a smile. “Well, if I did happen to want to search out your company again, is there a way I could find you?”

Astarion cocked his head to the side and looked at Wyll with admiration and frustration. “You won’t leave me alone, will you?”

“I will if you want me to,” Wyll responded.

Astarion stood for a moment and looked at their entwined hands. After what seemed like a long moment of heavy contemplation, he met Wyll’s gaze. “There’s a bar near the park. It’s called the Elfsong. I tend to spend my Saturday evenings there starting at dusk. If you’d like to search out my company again, then I’d suggest there. For now,” he released Wyll’s hand and motioned to the open door again, “I believe this is where we should say goodnight.”

Wyll sighed and nodded reluctantly. “The Elfsong at dusk, I’ll keep it in mind. Have a good evening, Astarion.” He stood for a moment, wondering if he should offer a handshake or even a hug before leaving. Instead, Astarion leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. Wyll’s eyes opened a bit wider as he stared at Astarion, who was now smiling nervously. “Good night, Officer Wyll.”

With that, Wyll stepped outside the shed and Astarion closed the door behind him. He stood there for a moment and touched his cheek where Astarion had kissed him. It wasn’t like the kisses they exchanged earlier in the evening. This one left a sensation not of nervous electricity, but of something pleasant and ethereal. There was a warmth that lingered on his skin. Wyll never recalled kisses from his girlfriends ever feeling like this. It was something special.

As he began to exit the park the way he came, he had a feeling of something watching him. The feeling made Wyll nervous, but he did his best to maintain his composure and walk just a bit faster than he usually would. It was a Sunday, so if Wyll was lucky, he would get to see Astarion next Saturday. That’s if Mizora or this gnawing sensation of being watched didn’t get him first.

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Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

#wyllstarion #astarion x wyll #bg3 #fanfic #astarion #wyll ravengard #demisexual #modern au #police #sex worker #writing #long post #mizora #ulder ravengard #mine #just one yesterday

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scourgefrontiers · 10 months ago

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HONESTLY..ive been thinking a lil.

so i started down my path to becoming a professional character designer in 2013, when i designed my very first character who was MEANT to be a character design exercise. i cant exactly remember what prompted me wanting to go into character design--it could have just been that i was passionate about designing characters to the point of where i had looked up if that was a job or not--but it had become such a passion of mine that i would go on to study and practice character design for like 10 years afterward.

in 2018 i started to take this career path more seriously by enrolling in stephen silver's schoolism class, the fundamentals of character design. this was significant for me because stephen was at the time a very recent idol of mine and i admired his abilities--plus this would count as my first "formal" character design learning experience. i didnt feel very good after taking the class; it was critiqued, and i kind of got ripped into lol. but after i recovered, i didnt give up and just worked harder, eventually taking his second class a couple years later. that time i did pretty well and i came out feeling like i was finally ready to apply to jobs in the industry!

unfortunately, erm...the job hunting was not only Not a success, but it only served to kind of kill my passion for character design. every time i applied i was rejected and every critique i asked for gave me something new i had to do differently. one critique in particular hurt me a lot and killed my passion for art overall (obviously not completely, i have the art autism so i could never fully fall out of love for it lol). it got to the point where last year (2023) i made the decision to give up on character design as a career and just do commissions full time.

dont get me wrong, i am very happy doing commissions as my full time job!!! i love drawing people's blorbos :]...but also, its a very inconsistent income, and theres been a couple months where i couldnt make rent without help, and that doesnt feel good at all.

so ive been thinking. i dont rly wanna go back to the industry--it still feels bad to me and right now it seems as though the industry is not in a great environmental situation anyway, so i dont wanna even attempt to try getting a job there again. however........i was honestly reconsidering if i had actually lost the passion for character design because it just genuinely wasnt my true passion, or if i had only lost it because the industry killed it. and i think the conclusion i came to was that yeah it was the industry's fault that made me fall out of love with it because it made me feel like i was doing everything wrong and nobody would like my design style.

so now my thought is like...maybe i dont HAVE to work in the industry to be a professional character designer? sure itd be AMAZING for my work to be on like. cartoon network or something. but i dont think i Have to work at a studio to be happy in that career path?? like..idk. maybe i can be a freelancer or something. if an industry opportunity shows itself i dont think i'll decline, but i wont actively seek them out anymore.

its just that i feel like ive put too much work and time and money and effort and passion into character design yknow? i dont feel right anymore just letting the industry kill that passion. i wanna reignite it and use the knowledge and skills ive gained over the 10 years ive been working at it to make a good living for myself. yeah itd be great to get guild pay lol, but if i can just...figure out how to do freelance character design work, then i think it can be just as good and fulfilling

sorry for the long post i just needed to air some thoughts out as usual <33 i guess this does show that character design still is my passion LOL i talked so fucking much about it after all. if u have any thoughts to share feel free i guess

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dominant-husband-submissive-wife · 2 years ago

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Seven Essentials Dominant Men Want From Their submissive wives

1. Praise and Approval

Men have egos, and Dominant Men attempt to hide Their egos. A submissive wife must understand that her Husband needs frequent reassurances about His Dominance, His career path, His adequacy as a Husband, His potency in the bedroom, and His attractiveness, to name a few.

The Dominant Husband wants His submissive wife to tell Him what she likes about Him. The Dominant Man typically needs far less verbal praise than His submissive wife, and however, this differs from the activity that requires keeping a scorecard. The submissive wife should communicate her praise and approval to her Dominant Husband more often.

As a submissive wife, she should let your praise and approval be known to her Dominant Husband. she should tell Him exactly what she finds attractive about Him. she can say to Him what physical features of His are her favorites. she should tell Him how submissive she feels when He says something in a particular way, when He accomplishes something, or when He takes her out on a date. Her genuine praise will make Him feel His Dominance and help Him feel loved.

2. Respect

Men feel Respect as love. Dominant Men especially need Respect to feel loved.

When a Dominant Husband feels like His submissive wife disapproves of Him, His career, or the elements that He believes are basic to who He is as a Man, He will have difficulty trusting and loving her. His thought process behind this is, ‘If my submissive wife does not Respect who I am at My core, how can she want what is best for Me?’

When a Dominant Husband’s submissive wife does not Respect His path or mission in life, He will find it very difficult to feel anything other than an uneasy need to distance Himself from her.

3. A Sense Of Sexual Connection

Both Men and girls connect through sex and communication. However, girls generally connect better through communication, and Men connect better through sex. This does not mean that the Dominant Husband needs to have sex with His submissive wife every day to feel connected. More often than not, Men connect through indicators of sexuality just as much as They do through sex.

The Dominant Husband will often initiate sex to ensure His submissive wife is still sexually available to Him. As a submissive wife, when He reaches across the bed for her, showing His willingness to embrace Him, kiss Him deeply, and engage Him can be enough to make Him feel loved.

The lack of attention to girls needing to connect through words and Men needing to connect through sex frequently turns a relationship into an unfortunate and rapid downward spiral. A girl does desire to open up sexually until she feels connected to her Man. However, He finds it challenging to communicate with her because T/they have not been physical with each other. For this reason, Dominant Men and submissive girls are drawn to Power Exchange relationships partly because of the communication the submissive girl needs and the sexual connection the Dominant Man needs, which is a foundation of the dynamic.

To avoid unintentional standoffs, Dominant Husband and submissive wife need to communicate and discover what specifically the O/other needs for T/them to feel the most loved.

4. Emotional Intimacy

From a young age, Dominant Men are taught to avoid appearing weak. Perceived ‘weakness’ includes complaining, divulging fears or concerns, and expressing self-doubt or worry.

As a submissive wife, she is her Dominant Husband’s ‘safe space’ to fail, as He can expose the cracks in His armor and allow her to help Him heal. Just as girls need to open up sexually within a relationship slowly, Men open up emotionally over time. The Dominant Husband must know the first time He cries in front of His submissive wife that she will not be repelled or handle it poorly.

As a submissive wife, if she pushes her Dominant Husband away or cannot be nurturing when He needs it the most, He will no longer trust her with His emotions and remove Himself to some extent from the relationship.

In this event, both Dominant Husband and submissive wife lose as He goes on silently suffering and believing that He is flawed in His imperfection. she is emotionally kept at arm’s length.

5. Space

Masculine Men are primarily drawn towards independence, and feminine girls towards intimacy. This is what has been coined the Masculine/feminine divide. This divide comes down to the Dominant Husband enjoying time spent apart and the submissive wife enjoying more time together.

It is essential to understand that there is no perfect balance to the Masculine/feminine divide. There will always be a balancing act of closeness and separateness between the Dominant Husband and the submissive wife. As a submissive wife, suffocating her Man by either failing to allow Him free time or with overly jealous behavior is the fasted way to destroy a marriage. Men need breathing room in a relationship, and Men need space. Men need time for hobbies, time with Their friends, and time to toil away on His projects to feel fulfilled.

Traditionally, when girls needed to solve a problem, they would go further into the community, connecting with close friends and family and discussing their issues. Conversely, when Men have a problem to solve, they leave the community to be alone with Their thoughts.

As a submissive wife, she should not resist His roaming. Allow Him to breathe. Leave Him to His own devices. A Dominant Man will be much happier for His submissive wife to receive Him when He returns, knowing that she trusts Him and the strength of T/their marital bond is enough not to resist Him having His space.

6. Physical Touch

Dominant Men need frequent non-sexual touch and a sense of sexual connection. As a submissive wife, coming up behind her Dominant Husband and lovingly touching His neck and hair while He sits absorbed in a task can make Him feel as loved as if T/they had sex in the bedroom.

A submissive wife’s touch is interpreted as physical love; the message registered is ‘i love you, and i want you to feel happy all the time. Know that i am always here for you, and i care for your deeply.’

7. Security

Both Men and girls are attracted to certainty in a relationship. The more the Dominant Man feels HIs girl is in the relationship for life, the more ready and able He is to open up to her, assuming He is equally invested in her.

However, security is more profound than the fact that His submissive wife will not leave Him. The security that He feels ties back into several of these essentials. The Dominant Husband feels secure knowing that his submissive wife approves of Him and where He is in His career. He feels safe and loved when she touches Him non-sexually throughout the day.

He feels secure when He is allowed to have His Men’s night away from her, and she does not need to call or text Him every half hour to check-in. And He feels secure with a submissive wife who takes steps to love Him the way He needs most.

How To Give Him What He Needs

As a submissive wife, this is not about blame, fault-finding, or doing anything wrong. Marriage is about loving your Dominant Husband the best way He can be loved and opening up a dialogue about emotional needs in the union.

Love Languages

Suppose the Dominant Husband’s way of expressing His love is to whisper sweet nothings into His submissive wife’s ear, or He tends to give compliments. In this case, His love language is ‘words of affirmation,’ according to Dr. Gary Chapman, author of The Five Love Languages: How to Express Heartfelt Commitment to Your Mate. The book outlines five general ways that romantic partners express and experience love, which Chapman calls ‘love languages.’

The remaining love languages are about showing rather than telling someone how T/they feel. Helping to fix the car or bake a cake translates to ‘acts of service.’ Huggers and kissers speak the language of ‘physical touch.’ If T/they tend to give special gifts just because T/they speak the love language of ‘receiving gifts.’ Finally, if T/they just want to hang out, T/their love language is ‘quality time.”

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randomfoggytiger · 2 years ago

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Typing: INTPs In Their Own Words

A short while ago, I created a Mulder Typing post explaining why he's an INTP (not INFJ/INFP); and, while I was compiling notes, I collected some comments from INTP users and stashed them away in a document. While going back through to get inspired for a future post (whatever that will be), I found them again; and was struck with a brilliant idea: why don't I simply post them in full so that everyone can read INTP thoughts/processes in their own words? There are many flavors of INTPs (since Typing is just a system showing how the brain processes information, not a personality box you have to stuff people into-- the old Nature vs. Nurture dynamic)-- perhaps you'd be interested in what they have to say?

There's a lot of good, some bad, and a little ugly; but we need a full picture to see these good souls for who they are~.

(Shoutout to my INTP mutual @baronessblixen! She mainly inspired this post for me~.)

**Note**: I will try to translate the technical terms as I go along (since they are mostly referring to Typing terminology and processes), so don't worry if the comment doesn't make much sense at first! :DDD

And now-- in no particular order-- here they are on their own terms!

""Why bother... Why do I even bother?.... Why would anyone care?...." The mantras of the INTP"

""They are legitimately worried that other people in the world are stupid."" As an INTP, I genuinely started to have that worry when I started noticing that my former classmates are holding executive jobs. As for fashion sense, I used to let my mom buy my clothes until late high school. But in the past 10 years or so and probably due to my ENTJ sister's influence and my interests in arts I started to develop a bizarre wardrobe. It had mellowed down a bit but I still get "that looks cool but I'd never do it myself" comments."

"I’m an INTP and the telling the same story over and over again is definitely a thing. But I don’t do it because I don’t remember having told it that person, usually. I’m usually the one who remembers everything I’ve ever said to someone, or heard from them in response in unreasonable amounts of detail. And then, over time, no one else remembers our conversations as well. So I start telling the same story I like telling, assuming that either they don’t remember hearing it, or if they do, they’ll stop me and say they remember me telling that one."

"The Ni critic explains why i can never decide on an acedemic/career path. Afraid of not choosing the wrong path or not being able to contribute anything new/novel/inovative to the field. But desperately wanting to prove to the world our brain has some thing significant to contribute but afaid of failing"

"Ti is logic and it’s basically what the individual believes is true or false. Like me, for example, if this is truth and this has to be true, basically, if this-then this, constantly."

"My INTP younger sister is exactly like this [easily exploited]. I hate when she lets peope use her at a door mat. I've dated many INTPs as an INTJ female and really really love the dynamic. But how do I cultivate "immoveability" into the INTP? Personally, my own views are what matter to me, but I find INTPs to almost be too flexible (if that makes sense). One of my exes used to get taken advantage so much it caused me to question his love for himself. I love my sister and obviously want wants best for her, how do I give her some of the INTJ "immoveability" to be less of a door mat?"

"So I’m an INTP but I don’t feel like I’m nowhere near brilliant. I now understand why I always felt so different from everyone else. I understand stuff easier than most but I have to break it down and reiterate to myself. I also did poorly in school until last 2 years of college.... I also have a hard time putting my words together or finding the right thing to say or word to use."

"As a INTP I hate jobs with hierarchy. The idea that someone with a lesser mind will be in charge of me will irritate ... me. At the same time I don't want to be the boss either, the idea of having to baby sit lesser minds will also irritate me lol. The person in charge in my opinion has to be highly intelligent, because that is the only time ill accept it because then I feel like I actually have something to learn from that person to further my own knowledge and the position they have is actually justified in my head."

"In my opinion, INTPs "inevitability" stems from their pessimistic functions, both in the ego and the shadow. The sharp Ne [Me: the fate of all humanity, not just one's own path forward] parent with how responsble it is with its forsight combined with the Fe [Me: human interconnection and emotional outreach] in aspirational mode can provide the most efficient choices for anyone to be better. While their shadow reinforces with using their will with Ni [Me: personal future and fate, the path one creates forward for oneself] critic and principles with Fi [Me: personalized morals and beliefs] demon/angelic to give structure and brings things to reality to what they foresee."

"I’m an INTP, and can tell you in all honesty that we view forgiveness very differently than all the other types. Forgiveness is but something that you acquire, but in fact more of a gift. You either have it, or you don’t"

"MBTi type claim that they’re INTPs and use it as a crutch to not get anything done or not to go anywhere in life. To be honest, that’s not how that works. INTPs just get too comfortable, and really the only way to motivate an INTP or an INFP because they have Si child is to just make them uncomfortable, and to pull them out of that behind the scenes realm. So, in general respect the behind the scenes, but if they’re not growing as people, if they’re not becoming better human beings, be prepared to pull them out of the behind the scenes, be prepared to expose them, because it’s the only way they will grow. They only understand pain. It’s kind of like those people who have to hit rock bottom before they ever grow up, right?"

"[Me: Context-- INTP's Nemesis makes them want to question everything, even if they like the information they're given; but often ther Si Child doesn't want to get out of their comfy routine to actually fact check it.] The nemissis thing is funny because as I watched this (and just about everything else I have some experience with) I thought "yeah you seem to have a good grasp of this, but if I had time..." and then I moved on, my inner critic was appeased."

"It doesn’t mean that we should be labeling them hermits or these people who are not good with human beings, etc. Especially INTPs, people are just not as much of a priority to them, because they’re too busy playing with their metaphysical systems. You know, it’s like a big toyland universe that they have access to, mentally, that they’re able to use their thinking models and solve problems. Life to them is a giant puzzle box. Let them play with their puzzle box. They really need that."

" I was talking recently with an INTP mother, who’s actually very good at type, and she trained her son or her daughter, I don’t remember which … But she’s married to an ESTP and they go to church and get involved in church events, and she’d be extroverting in her unconscious or her subconscious side of her mind at that point, and then all of a sudden, she’s like tapped out of energy and she just has to completely disappear and people are like, “Where did she go? Where did she go?” And you’ll find her in a corner where there’s like nobody but her, literally doing nothing but playing puzzles. That’s just how INTPs are."

"Whereas Ne users are very beautiful, they just like to be told by the Ni user what they should do, right? Because the Ni users connected to extraverted sensing and then the Ne users able to be like, okay, “Well I should do this because that’s what you want,” right?” That’s how it works. [Me: Meaning-- Ni users are more focused on what they want/their path forward; and Ne users are less focused on those areas, and are chill if Ni calls most of the shots as long as their opinions/voices are heard.]"

"Fe [Me: INTPs] users want to feel valued, not be source of value. [Me: Meaning-- they don't want to be the stereotypical male bird in a mating ritual dancing and making a big fuss. Others can do that to make them feel valued; but that's not how they show someone that they love, value, or care about them.]"

"Growth and self improvement has always felt to me to be an illusory concept. Obviously we change based on experiences but you can never predict if the experiences you are about to experience are going to lead to being "better" than you were. And what constitutes better? This is the philisophical black hole an INTP like myself can get stuck in when it comes to wanting anything."

"My Fi Demon is a really sharp and brutally honest critic that tells the object of my anger everything that makes them wrong. It’s often followed by guilt, even though I’m only speaking the truth without applying any filter."

"I think with INTPs if they are smart taking the initiative to learn from self help books or if they grow up in a family and environment that constantly challenges them, it's more about learning what to avoid after repeated experiences of getting burned. I learned about physical pain through sports starting at a young age thanks to my father and social anxiety, dealing with it head on in sports locker rooms, taking toastmasters classes to become a good public speaker, approaching people in cold approach sales etc. So I have the ability to tolerate pain if needed but also have the knowledge on what to stay away from because I've experienced it repeatedly and already know the outcome."

"I definitely wish my parents had been strict with me. When I asked them for advice, they told me they had no advice to give, and that I should do whatever I want to do. I support myself now, but I spent 10+ years aimless, living off of them. I would have built more useful skills, self-respect, confidence, and better values if they had guided me towards a career and a normal lifestyle. I will definitely give my kids an ultimatum to move out and support themselves for at least a year at age 18, but also will give loving guidance and provide a sense of how to live rather than a liberal attitude of laissez-fair parenting."

"those INTPs, you know, driving their car, they’re like the old man driving their cars, you know what I mean, or the old woman, taking their jolly sweet time, you know, not really in a hurry, I’m never in a hurry. I make sure there’s enough time in my day scheduled, so I can take my time on the road, and [others], you know, cuss at me, honk their horns at me, you know"

"I agree with you about the subconscious part of INTP. We do care about our loved ones. But if we KNOW that they’re not going to listen, why would we bother?"

"hero of the INTP is a little different. It is Ti hero, logic comes first, they can see into the future of other people, but they do it from a more responsible, a pessimistic point of view."

"I know that although I always had a real hard time falling in-love and develop strong feelings for a guy, I didn’t have any difficulties being committed and loyal. I know that as a female INTP, it takes lot to decide on a lifelong partner, but once that decision is made, I am fiercely loyal"

"Sometimes, as an INTP, I feel like that I actually am a really-really bad person. I think that I'm actually a psycho, but now I know the reason. When my father died 7 years ago, I remember it was a cold night, my families were grieved, my mother was cried hysterically and so my big brother. Instead, I did not feel anything atm, my aunt kept telling me that my father Infront of me already died but I still didn't feel anything. I was thought that it just a phase of human life and everyone will die eventually, until my brother yelled at me 'What are you doing? It's our father who died!!!' So tried so hard to cry, I didn't even know if that was a real cry or not. And when everyone was still grieving, I decided to sleep so maybe tomorrow I would get my feeling and start to grieve. But after several weeks, I started to think that I don't have my father anymore, the one who was always love me no matter what I did, then finally I can feel my lost and start to cry sincerely. Don't be like me my fellow INTP friends, feeling is important. Don't be so full of logic in those important moments and just blend in. Have a good day!"

"Most of time I have to outsmart myself to not smoke weed, lay in bed, play video games, watch movies and rather go to work instead. Getting out of the comfort zone, nah rather, throwing myself out of the comfort zone is so crucial for me. It completely changes my mindset and pushes me towards growth."

"I'm an INTP. I was married to a very abusive man and had spent 8 years trying to make up my mind as to what I was going to do about it. I went to work one day with a black eye and a co-worker said "if you don't leave him I'll call CPS and then your kids will be taken away" (whether she would have done it or not, idk). That forced me to make the decision to leave and take me out of my "comfort zone". It was the best thing that someone has ever done for me."

"I loved when you talked about wisdom being harsh and "fire". Yeah turns out telling someone "here's the harsh truth about what you're doing wrong, just stop doing it and you'll be fixed" doesn't go over well with most folks. As a teacher, I could absolutely tell how kids were going to turn out due to their parents' behaviour (if the parents were too accepting, the kids would end up helpless; if the parents were too inconsistent, the kids would be unreliable as well etc.) But would I bother telling this to parents? No, of course not, no one likes to be told they're parenting wrong, no one would listen to advice from me, a childless professional with years of experience. Sigh."

"Society appreciates ignorance rather than wisdom."

"I am an INTP. As an ex-smoker it was really hard to stop smoking cigarettes I tried everything but I just couldn't. It was frustrating to me that there is something controlling me. That was [eating away at] ... my brain.I found a book called the easy way to stop smoking on Reddit recommended by ex-smokers. I read it I stopped in a week. Now I'm 8 months clean. I distributed the book to all the people i know who smoke ligit the whole uni. No wants to read the book they think they won't stop they don't believe me. People don't like to take advice people just don't care. This makes me sad."

"It's scary how accurate this is. I almost feel called out for my ways of thinking. In typical INTP fashion I hate being predictable so it's weird to see someone get something this spot-on"

"I see these personality types like INTP as a starting point for personal development and not as a destiny. For example I try to be the one who kicks me out of the comfort zone instead of being dependent on someone else to do that."

"When he said people will hate you and alienate you because you always think your right and come off as arrogant but you usually are right which makes them hate you more. My whole life summed up and yet I never understood why it seemed people had an aversion to me when I had the best intentions. Now I know"

"[Me: Context-- this poster is not an INTP, but has a lot of Fe users in their family. Further context: INTPs are Fe users] I have a family with, I think, a lot of Fe functions. I mean, it does get overwhelming as time progressed and I feel like I'm being gaslighted not being as normal as them, but I can handle it, yes. But the repeating part is just so true. My mom and dad like to repeat stuff as they say it i.e "Don't forget to bring them. Don't forget to bring them. The bag for grandma. Okay ? Don't forget to bring them."

"This was really interesting to watch. I feel that my Trickster Ne is worse because of my Asberger's, it's much harder to interact with people and be aware of my surroundings. Interacting with people and understanding them can be completely exhausting and draining. Weirdly, I find it incredibly hard to predict people, but when I do, it's scarily accurate. My husband, an ISFP, gets so frustrated that I'm "always right". He does have to push me to do things, too. LoL. He, as you said, doesn't give me options but just tells me to stuff, and I do it, kicking and screaming the whole way. :P"

"I am lucky to have a mom that appreciate me and tells me about it quite often, which is very good-feeling, but if she thinks that I'm getting too lazy, she'll be sure to make a move. Really happy to have her in my life."

"I have always had zero fashion sense and 'sloppy' with messy hair is my default look. To help me understand the art and science of dressing right, I have been studying the Kibbe body type system and seasonal color analysis for awhile now, and it was a great starting point. I ended up going really deep into it (like I would any other science), adding my own theories to it. I'd analyze and type friends and family, giving them fashion advice with great accuracy. As for myself, I still look sloppier than ever. Ugh. It's the shopping I hate. And I am too attached to my large comfy hoodies. I need to change lol. I mean, I am an attractive woman otherwise, and I'd like to settle down in the near future. Dressing like a 17 year old boy who lives in his mom's basement certainly isn't helping".

"As an INTP I get stuck in familiar and safe logical pattern loop, caused by my own thinking. On top of that I choose to endure that pain of not taking a risk, being open to risk and taking risk causes me anxiety. Not knowing what to want scares me even more cause i can see the logical fallacy of will and desire with its shortsighted-ness, which causes me further to retreat to my safe routine which i'm willing to endure cause its familiar or obligatory, not taking risk. Its like the saying 'paralysis by analysis', invoking fear and anxiety to risk taking."

"So, I am INTP and also a Psychology student. It's a little bit tiring explaining that I don't want to make therapy. I just want to follow the investigation path and well... they all just say then why did u choose Psychology- and then I am like bcs I WANTED TO KNOW HOW WE WORK. Sad hours... lol"

"I'm not afraid other people are stupid. I'm afraid they'll misunderstand, which is a slightly different Te nemesis manifestation because that misunderstanding is a HUGE threat to everything I do and it happens a lot. Also, I can be very ascetic. Wants are difficult for me. You put that on the Si child function but I really think it comes from the critic and the blindspot acting in tandem. Because Se trickster doesn't just mean I bump into stuff. I barely even recognize material reality. Like it actually [angers] me ... sometimes that I have to have a physical human body. I don't really understand the necessity of this skin suit. But as long as I've got it I may as well make it comfy right? So, I'm off to play PUBG and get some of that dopamine we love so much".

"As an intp I always felt like I could tell what people were going to do, but until now I never rlly figured the word used to describe it, I always just used the phrase i can read people better in certain situations but I never rlly felt socially adequate like others"

"Yeah... The best way to tick off an INTP is to know what peeves us, but do it anyway... We can tolerate a little, but one second past our timer(and you can't really ever know how long it will be at any given time), our patience will burn away FAST. The better we think you know us(<the "we think" is usually the reason it can seem to come out of the blue), the less tolerant ... we become. Our patience with strangers can be enormous(sometimes ridiculous or un-called-for), but those who we expect to be on our side are expected to know better(whether or not they understand that)... edit: typos"

"[Me: Context-- This is referring to an INTP being uncomfortable about being asked to talk about their innermost feelings casually.] As an INTP female, I have to say this was quite accurate :D I especially appreciated ''Never, ever ask and INTP how they feel! '' I would add, never give an INTP the advice "follow your hart". It makes zero sense to me :D"

"I'm an INTP, here's a little anekdote: When i was younger my dad often went out with me and my brothers to a lake and just relax in the evening before going to bed. So i was like 8/9/10 (dont know exactly) and before going there me and my brother had a discussion, about who is going to sit in the front seat in the car. We said he will sit there on the way to the lake and i will sit there on the way home. But when we wanted to go home, my brother switched into: "No, i am older than you and therefore its my right to choose the seat". We had a little fight and basically i was like: "Okay, ... i am out of here", so i just quit and walked about 15km into the little town where my grandparents lived, because - u know - at grandma's house everything is always fine :). My dad was searching for me, driving around and even thinking about calling the police..because i said NOTHING.. i was just gone I am 22 now and still i have some problems communicating my actions in terms of just leaving the situation. I am always thinking: "U dont have to care about me, you are fine as well so i dont have to care about you...so where is the problem?""

"I don't think an INTP forgets that he told the story already, I believe he tells the story he thinks about because it makes him feel better to talk about it. It's a selfish reason really, but I'm guilty as charged."

"i used to know this intp (i believe) friend. you are extremely on point... extremely. this guy was a red haired nerd who made me laugh harder than anyone i've ever met. i used to be amazed with his casual novel acumen. he often had me crying in laughter in class. he was a huge story teller (stories told over and over). i used to throw him random verbal stimulus (just throw ideas his way) to see his reaction. this man had, literally, zero friends in school (other than me) and i was generally considered somewhat popular and i would regularly leave larger popular groups of others to be around him for his insane entertainment value. he regularly called me a, "... idiot," which made me laugh every time (he would be dead serious when doing this). oh, and btw, i had to beg him to hang out with me when he did... to know how strange this is, you just have to know our situation i guess (like i said, i had the extreme social upper hand that he didn't care about)... anyway, he knew a bunch of small anarchist type knowledge like what would happen if you did these strange things like stick gum wrapper in a socket, rob places in particular ways; it was wildly interesting. the lack of attention he got from others baffled me because he was so unique and extraordinary in my eyes. i was always intrigued how his mind worked. it was intimidating being around this guy with so much street wisdom and casual ability to function flawlessly when he felt like it. ...he's now a pothead (smokes 4 times a day). he did earn a casual master's degree in psychology that he doesn't do anything with. if i smoked like he did, i would fail classes in days. he had a 4.0..."

"I was once told at 26 that I was too old to still be wearing “Sarcastic Tees” from Spencer’s like a 14 year old boy and should be wearing grown men clothes like a respectable member of society. I conceded to wearing flannel button up shirts over those tee shirts. May have been the best criticism that I ever received, because I’m often told how mature I dress now at 32... I guess not a lot of men these days look mature?"

"You just described my dad in 2 functions Ti= Super logical man. Loves motors and electricity. Thinks everybody's an idiot (Shadow Te) Si= Tells the same story a million times not knowing he told the story to the same person the last week. And the week before, and the week before. I've seen it. He doesn't know he's done it. 3 Sundays in a row he told the same story to the same man."

"Back when I graduated high school I skipped the ceremony. My family thought I was crazy and I was like, "so what, almost everyone has a high school diploma. Doesn't mean you're smart.""

"I had an INTP supervisor & his assistant is ISTP, they're brilliant with everything you've stated, but I think I was great at my office manger job & they were unsupportive with some changes I wanted to make. I was trying to create a more positive, supportive experience for our staff & clients by getting rid of [awful] staff. He agreed to fire 1 of the people I was adamant about, but ended up changing his mind (he can be a coward). At my last meeting with him he told me he appreciates me (but it pained him to do it) and I was very valuable to the program, so he does have a heart somewhere. He also said he was critical of me & other leadership staff, to help us. I let him have it. I'm not tolerating that .... He wanted to control everything, even from behind the scenes. He needs puppets and I wasn't going to be that. He is arrogant & 2-face. In front of clients & staff he pretends to be kind, behind their back he talks [badly about them]. He is also overly dependent on the istp too, when she leaves, he is [a goner]. Not a good match for me at all lol"

"[Me: Context-- INTPs are very chill until you ignore their warnings over and over and ruin their own life by extension.] I lost it when you described the Vegeta level tantrums.... So many flashbacks to grabbing the closest thing I could find and straight up hurtling it at someone's (my brother's) head."

"My first and to this day only experience in isfp super ego [Me: Meaning-- INTPs are their angriest/in a rage was, when my mom confronted me the morning before school that I didn't gave her an super important school letter the days before, so she wouldn't sign it that morning, I really thought I would need it this day (later I heard we would need it 2 days later, but I didn't know this at this moment) I saw my future and honor to the teachers and from the teachers breaking away, so let's get to the rage part, I ran into my bedroom and by mistake pulled the door 1meter away from where it should have been (it was ripped out those things which hold the door). That was a really shocky moment for me, because I thought I would have me under controle in such situations, but obviously I didn't."

"you nailed it why care when ppl don't want to know they hate you for caring"

"INTP here. As far as food goes, super adventurous and familiar at the same time. I'll try anything once, and if I like it I can eat it all the time. If I don't, I'll get the priciest/highest rated version I can to make sure it wasn't just the chef/ingredients."

"I'm a female INTP. I'm always so deep into my head that someone can be right beside me and I don't notice them. When they start talking to me, It startles me out of my head. There have been times when I have actually let out a slight scream. I usually get puzzled looks when I try to explain that I was deep in thought and didn't notice them."

"I'm an INFJ living with my boyfriend that is an INTP, and I had to laugh at some of your points because they're so accurate! This man is miserable [in] a suit!"

"I'm INTP and I'm trying to not stagnate, it's pretty weird, because it's seems easier to be moving than to start moving, so yeah moving is worth it I understand that logically, but that's not internalized and I just have incredible difficulty at starting to move forward, or even continue that without external help."

"i'm a intp, i love math, learning about things at school that are actually useful in my life, and the things that are not useful in my life i find it really hard to concentrate on."

"In school we had an art project once to do without the teacher. Just written instructions. I felt like I had understood what was asked and told my classmates. But they thought differently (in a actually wrong way). After ten minutes of pointless arguing I just left them where they stood and started doing my picture. I was practicly the only person who had time to finish. And I was the only one in my class that has understood the instructions correctly. In fact, this project had such bad results that the teachers didn't let it count for the grades. My whole class got Es and Ds while I got a B+. I got to keep the grade and dump another bad grade of mine."

"Used to think I was kind of a feeler and extroverted. Then I stayed alone over Covid... I invented a cure for aging and developed a new species of fish. I think I'm definately INTP. Absolutely nobody believes me, so I know that I must be one!"

"When I first saw the board, I saw Fe, Ti, Si and Ne. And literally it screamed out Iron, Titanium, Silicon and Neon."

"Although I’m not certain I am An INTP( I cannot figure it out!), the “everybody is stupid part” got humbled in me when I entered the oilfield workforce. I grew up with the idea that tradespeople are dumb, and if you aren’t university educated, you won’t be successful. After seeing firsthand that absolutely is not the case, and oftentimes we are struggling with the engineers( Usualt INTP) lack of foresight on their projects implementation. We also have this theoretical framework I use to learn how our plant works, but oftentimes it’s experience and outside the box thinking that operates the plant on a day to day basis. The framework is merely a framework, and reality is usually way different. Paper to implementation is never perfect. Tradespeople in my opinion are far more brilliant than those educated in our institutions and I find myself side by side with teachers, economists and the like. Something I didn’t mention was The humbling part for me was how stupid I was mechanically entering the work force. Able to explain complex plant processes but unable to drain a vessel to prepare for isolation( this is similar to how intps can become good cooks or drivers, by just doing it, million dollar concept eh??). I dedicated myself to doing things on my own like following manuals and YouTube videos for vehicle repairs and performing them myself. I am catching up to rest of my peers and once my working memory and mechanical ability are good, with my abstract ability I’ll be a very good plant operator."

"I’ve stopped doing it, now that I mostly eat lunch at home, but I had a habit of ordering only one dish in each restaurant I went to. My order was always the same, only the type of food changed. So, the waitress would see me and just put in my order. It was very efficient, I reasoned, no need to suffer through the ordering process every day. I wonder if they resented me for it or liked it."

"INTP's: say something that's obvious and really simple to us. ------------others:why are you so mean? ------INTP's: did you say something? ----Others: ...! ----- INTP: shrugs and goes back to absorbing information like a sponge."

"I am an INTP, but I don’t experience a lot of the apathy problems, mostly due to a dad that understands my needs. Also I understand the inferiority/ superiority paradox and constantly try to underestimate myself (still fail to see long term thinking in the majority of people) and try to give credit where credit is due"

"INTP female here; pretty accurate, feeling attacked lol used to be called ice princess as a child. my friends used to call me robot so when my [personality test] came out saying that INTPs are robots, my friends had a lot of fun with that."

"What would you say would be the cause for an INTP with a very messy apartment? I have a few things even from my high school days that haven't thrown away and I'm in my fifties. Also have trouble making decisions of what mail to throw away. Apartment at least navigable but not using nearly all the space that's available..."

"I have anger instead of apathy/indifference. I - or rather my Si - has gotten seriously tired of seeing the same mistakes happen constantly & their repercussions constantly affect my life too, so I can't bear to see people in my life make a similar mistake one more time; thus, I snap & I have to vent...."

"Don't fall into the trap of ignorance for Ti users: last known input or preferred input will make your Ti useless. You have to test and experiment with every opinion or premise, even if you disagree with them."

"A note on my physical environment: (I’m an intp) I do tend to set things down without even thinking about it, it’s like there’s a hidden part in my brain that decides when i want to put something down, and my body just does it, completely unaware. and since i don’t notice it, i can’t even consider whether the place i am setting the thing will lead to struggle in the future."

"[Me: Context-- Here's a rare 'brutally honest' INTP] I’m a woman who’s an INTP, and it’s definitely lonely lol I’m always correcting people, if what they are saying is false. I get told that most people don’t want to be corrected, and find it offensive. Which makes no sense to me. So I’m just rather indifferent when it comes to people. Same with advice, I’m brutally honest when people ask for my opinion/advice. They usually don’t accept it, and wonder why their situation didn’t turn out right"

"My fear of feeling like people around me are dumb have been quenched by my little brother being an ISTP, my mother being wise and my grandmother being an utter genius. If there are three intelligent people around me already there will be more. You will just have to find them and build networks of trust with people humble and knowlegable in their field. Edit: I had an emotional talk with my mother because I agree with my father (even tho his reasons are unknown) that my mother should stop funding my studies. Why? Because I feel like I need an incentive to do something, and I do nolonger want my father to have any authority to say anything to me. Just finally after 21 years to actually become a somewhat independent adult. I know I will always survive, but I am really stagnating."

"As a true INTP , i listened this while playing Sims 3 creating an INTP character , with music turned off while drinking coffee at 12:23 night. 10/10 would listen again. Anyway , i feel like only stupid people are repeating the same story over and over again. I have a rule , if i like a new person and we get close i use my crazy ... stories to "flex" and get close , but only one time. In fact if a person it's telling me the same story three times , im done, i send him/her to the "lame people zone"."

""Wisdom is like fire, it's truth. You gotta get burned in order to get closer to the truth."" THANK YOU. That was beautifully said."

AND LASTLY: INTPs who can't seem to pick a calling in life-- below is some advice (from Person B Person E, and Person F), commiseration, and soothing words of wisdom-- most INTPs change their jobs or career paths regardless because of their fluctuating interests!

Person A: "I am worried to pick my specialization. I dont know what to choose. I am interested in so many things and then i move on. Example: I love art, been going to extra curricular art class since childhood and we would try all different techniques. Even now when i do something, i am interested in it (sewing, knitting, editing photos, felting, clay modelling) and it never sticks long enough to become "proficient" in it, i do it just long enough to get the basics. I am using art or hand work techniques as an example, it is a hobby not a profession I wish to pursue..."

Person B: "Compare all interests, which one of them you stick to the longest and excites you the most. Use a scoring scale & hierarchy to compare so that it is easier to analyze. And then, refer to your Fe, of all those, which one would be the most beneficial to the society. Narrow down to 2-3 choices (you know it's hard to make one choice) and try exploring them (i.e take actions) to further make distinction which one is feasible for you to specialize in (I mean realistically). I was at one time that it is possible to me to choose any career path I want to, from medicine to architecture, from art and design to computer engineering. Just like in the video, a naive INTP decided not to choose because he knew people in those field and didn't feel like really great about them and thought it didn't feel too worthwhile to take on a path to be like them. I ended up compromising my specialization and chose a subjectively easier course just because I could continue learning other fields and I did learn them. Though right now, I didn't 100% regret my choice back then as I aspire to do integration of fields rather than traditional specialization, I didn't see any problem if I did choose one of the famous career path earlier and I might feel as fulfilling as I'm now but in different departments of fulfillment."

Person C: "I’m going through the same thing. I’ve completed my bachelors in science and I work as a youth worker... but I also want to be an author. In fact, it’s always been a passion but I’m just now realizing that. But I’ve also developed a passion in research while doing my undergrad so I’m wondering whether or not to pursue my masters since that might lead me to a more sustainable career"

Person D: "Everyone I Know: You are so gifted. You could literally be anything you wanted be without even trying. Just pick something. Me:.......There are so many options, but are any of them worth it. I fail to commit to one area of study and let years go by without moving forward in life."

Person E: "I think society puts so much pressure on what you're gonna do "for the rest of your life" and "it has to be the perfect fit FOREVER". Unfortunately it never works out like that, people change and you change, and you won't be the only person who will likely want to change careers later on in life, and that's ok. From what you wrote, it seems like you are more on the 'create and make' side of things, and I find that really cool, and I also think the best step forward would be to force yourself to stick to something and build it up a bit, after a while you'll find yourself comfortable with where you're at and you can either go to something else (creative jobs have lots of transferrable skills and you'll probably be very good at them if you wanted to) or stick with whatever you choose because it's now your new comfort zone Something that helped with my indecisive nature is reading a quote, basically: time will pass anyway, so might as well be a year in the future with a step forward towards a specific something than nothing at all."

Person F: "I struggled with this one for a bit at university when I found what I originally thought was the perfect profession that would blend everything together (medical illustration). I went to a school with a weak art program, wanted to transfer after the first year and felt guilty about starting something and not finishing it. I graduated with the degree but didn’t finish the art program. convinced a counselor to let me skip classes. Since I wasn’t at the level I needed to be 3 years ago, I changed my goal and decided to hold this one off until I’m way older. Do something for a few years then switch off when you’re ready for that next experience!"

WELP.

That's all for now!

If you want, I'll make another post in future-- maybe more INTPs, maybe some ISTJs (for Scully representation, post here~.)

Thank you for reading--

Enjoy!

Disclaimers: This is a self-assessed analysis. This information is not based on the abominable MBTI system (which has been butchered from its original Jungian typology since ~WWII); instead, it’s a combination between the works of Jung’s type psychology, Dr. Linda Berens’ Communication styles, Dr. Dario Nardi’s EEG brain scan compiled research, and others’ data and practices as compiled and simplified by CSJoseph. This system is based only on the Nature side of Nature/Nurture; and each “type” is not a “box” to fit everyone into– simply a tool to help understand the basics of the human mind that science has only begun to fathom in its limited scope.

#Types #Typing #INTP #In Their Own Words #analysis #mine #comments #and only a little mention of:#Mulder #xfiles #txf #x-files #meta #xf meta #life #beautiful #MBTI #but not

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