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haikyu-mp4 · 6 months ago

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Foreign

word count; 1664 – f!reader, chubby reader

this is dedicated to the amazing writer and my very good friend, @cottonlemonade <3

You were new to Inarizaki this fall, starting in the middle of the semester. What a great time to try and make new friends, right? It is even better when you’re moving from another country and not fluent in the language. Sure, you understood Japanese well, but you could be quite slow in answering, so many of those you tried to interact with simply couldn’t be bothered, especially teenagers.

So when the principal sent an e-mail a few days before you started school, informing you that Kita Shinsuke would be showing you around on your first days, your expectations weren’t very high.

Needless to say, you were proven wrong. You got along very well with the kind boy who had the patience to wait for you to gather your words. It didn’t take long for him to suggest you join a club, asking if you might be interested in managing his volleyball team. He insisted that it could give you a boost into the social circles, but made sure you knew it was all up to you.

Here you are, two days after starting Inarizaki and standing at the entrance of the volleyball court with a tray of one of your favourite recipes from your home country. The tray was pushing into your squishy stomach as you clutched the sides nervously and tried to take a mental note of all the names you knew and the ones you would have to learn.

Everyone’s attention shifted when Kita cleared his throat and gestured towards you while looking at some of his teammates with strict eyes. “This is the girl I told you about, she will be trying out for manager this week so I expect you all to behave.”

Their gazes went to you and you gulped, quickly lifting the tray. “I brought a peace offering,” you said, having practised saying that in Japanese in the minutes before Kita met up with you.

Most of them slowly started coming over, but one seemed particularly drawn towards you, making his identical twin try and speed past him to reach you first. “What is this?” the silver-haired twin asked while fighting off the other one so he could grab first.

“It’s a recipe from my home country…” and as you explained it to him, you were thrilled to see he didn’t immediately get bored of you taking your time with finding the words. While all the other team members came and grabbed their pieces before settling somewhere in the gym to stretch and eat, Miya Osamu, who at some point remembered to introduce himself, stayed put in front of you to listen while munching on and appreciating the delicious homemade food.

“So you’re a foodie too, have you cooked any Japanese food yet?” he asked, and you tucked the tray under one arm now that it was empty, following him as the two of you walked over to where the manager should be.

“I haven’t, my parents don’t know much about it too,” you answered honestly.

Osamu chuckled. “Either,” he corrected, giving you the right Japanese expression for it. “They don’t know much either.” You blushed, looking to the side and only then noticing that the others were gathering to start practice. “But I could show you sometime? My mom and I love cooking.”

That is how you ended up in this predicament, wearing a matching apron with Osamu while Atsumu sat by the kitchen island with a judgy look.

You were a bit uncomfortable at first, wondering if the apron was too tight and exposed one too many of your curves for him to look at you like that, but you tried not to think about it when Osamu was being so nice and lending his time. After all, Osamu had not-so-subtly touched your waist or lower back whenever he had to move past you even if there really was no reason to do so.

“Hey, Atsumu,” you started, using your kindest voice, not noticing how Osamu sharply looked up from where he was preparing the last fillings. “Since I’ll be the manager, why don’t you tell me about being a setter?”

Atsumu leaned on his hand with his elbow on the counter and let his face slowly fall off it with his eyes closed. “Sorry! Almost fell asleep there, you were taking so long.”

Osamu was about to launch a whole spoon at his brother’s head “Ya stupid-“ when you burst out laughing.

It made Osamu’s stomach do flips as he watched you laugh with one hand leaning on the counter and the other clutching your chubby stomach. “You’re quite rude, aren’t ya?” you asked rhetorically, having already picked up a piece of their dialect.

Atsumu perked up in his seat when you didn’t seem to break under his insult, fighting back a smile of his own at how your laughter rang off the kitchen walls. “Pff, shut up.”

“You seem pretty intent on staying around so I can’t be that bad,” you teased, and it held just enough charm for him to accept it.

Atsumu squinted at you before going back to leaning on his palm. “I was just hoping to steal some food.”

You looked at Osamu with your sweet smile and said “What’s next, chef?”

The redness creeping up Osamu’s neck was not easy to hide. “Uhh, right. Just to shape them, really.”

“Is there a trick to make it nice?” you asked, holding some rice in one hand and eyeing the filings.

“If you count rounds, it’s easier than just squeezing randomly, so work your way around the shape-“ he explained, showing you with his rice ball as he talked.

You stared at your hands before shaping some rice and filling it, before grabbing another half of rice and… not making it quite as pretty. “Sorry, could you show me one more time? I want to do it as well as you without using moulds.”

Osamu started picking up more rice before stopping abruptly, throwing it back in the bowl and moving closer to you. That dummy had watched enough clichés to figure this was the perfect opportunity to wrap his hands around yours and show you. He executed said cliché perfectly, and the way your warm hands felt was almost enough to distract him from the task.

“Disgusting, right in front of my salad,” Atsumu complained before finally walking out of the kitchen to presumably bother their mother instead.

The two of you started filling and shaping the onigiri, bumping into each other now and then and throwing out flirty comments. If all the students at Inarizaki were so welcoming, you would be more than fine.

On Friday, after your last class, Kita stood outside your classroom and patiently waited for you. He bowed shortly after you exited, making you return the gesture. “Kita! What a pleasure,” you said.

He gestured towards the hallway so you could start walking together. “I wanted to ask how your first week has been.”

There’s a little skip in your step as you start thinking of this week. “I had trouble with some girls in the cafeteria, but I’m already feeling like my Japanese is developing much quicker so I’m sure it will all work out.”

Kita hummed under his breath, seemingly in thought for a moment before responding. “I see, I’m glad you’re looking on the positive side.” He turned a corner, making sure you followed as he steered towards the gym. “And the team? How are you feeling about the manager position?”

“They’re all very nice. Chaotic but fun,” you said with a soft chuckle. “Osamu has been especially welcoming, even though Atsumu gave me a hard time at first,” you continued, laughing at the last part.

Kita frowned, slowing down slightly. “A hard time? I hope you don’t feel pressured to accept the position, Atsumu can be… he has an attitude, but he works hard,” he excused, using his hands to gesture, and it was the first time you saw Kita look even a tad unsure.

Your short laughter made him stop, looking curiously at you. “I was going to say that if you’ll still have me, I’d love to accept the position.”

“That’s great news.” A small smile appeared on his face and that was enough for you, as you opened the door to the gym and gestured for him to walk first.

Osamu came jogging over the second you entered. “Hey, captain!” he greeted Kita as he passed him, heading straight for you. “How do you feel about trying something more complicated this weekend?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows as if suggesting something much dirtier than cooking.

You shot him some finger guns, smooth as ever as he walked backwards towards the bench area while you faced him. “You’re on!” you responded cheerfully.

“Is my place still okay?” he asked, just as Atsumu walked over and bumped his shoulder, making him trip over his feet. You frantically held your cute, chubby hand out and he grabbed it before you helped him up again. You must have been a sight to see with your matching red cheeks.

“You lovebirds gonna take up the kitchen again?” Atsumu sighed dramatically. You noticed over his shoulder that Suna was filming this as Osamu caught his brother in a headlock.

“Leave our new manager alone!” Aran said in an authoritative yet fond voice. Kita stood beside him with his arms crossed, so you assumed he had told Aran that you accepted.

“So it’s decided?” Osamu asked, and the excitement in his voice was palpable.

“I will was your manager starting today!” you announced, already picking up the basket with their water bottles to go fill them up.

“Will be our manager,” Atsumu corrected, probably about to make another quip at you, only to be interrupted by Osamu chuckling affectionately and coming over to take the basket from you.

Kita shook his head at their antics. This would be a fun year with his team.

masterlist

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amphibianaday · 8 months ago

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day 1664

#amphibian #frog

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tateypots · 1 month ago

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Bit By Bit

18+ MDNI

Pairing: Dark!Joel x f!reader, dark!Tommy x f!reader

Word count: 1664

A/N: Part 4 of Collared. Same warnings as before, it’s dark so please heed the warnings and skip if it’s not for you.

Summary: Something has changed in the way Joel and Tommy treat you.

Warnings: Non-con, kidnapping, fingering, unprotected piv, restraints, orgasm denial, manipulation, negative self talk/self-loathing

Part 3 | Part 5 | Series Masterlist

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You lay on your back on the bed, tears leaking from your eyes and Tommy’s cum leaking from your pussy. It was the quiet time between breakfast and lunch and as usual you were left alone with nothing but your thoughts to entertain you.

You had come to hate being alone more than you could have ever imagined possible. Alone, you couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts that filtered in, your mind turning on you just like your body had. The treacherous voices in your head whispered to you that this was all you were good for, being nothing more than their fuck toy, collared and chained for them to take their pleasure whenever they pleased. Those voices asked questions you didn’t want to answer. Even if you could get away from them, what would you do? Where would you go?

You were alone in the apocalypse with no survival skills. Your father had seen to that. Even though you’d begged him to teach you how to shoot, how to hunt he’d refused, telling you it was dangerous and he’d take care of it. Ever the misogynist, he refused to acknowledge that you might be capable of looking after yourself with some guidance. That one day you might be separated, that he might not be there to look after you. And so he had damned you to this. You were so angry with him for it. Truth was you were angry at him for many things. For dragging you out of the QZ to a life he refused to prepare you for. For not listening to you when you told him they should do a full sweep of that medical centre before searching for supplies. For being so cold and unaffectionate with you, for leaving you so touch starved you enjoyed being raped.

This was what you hated most about your new life. Even worse than the sex, the time alone with nothing to do except remind yourself how pathetic you were. And now Tommy and Joel seemed to be realising it as well. They were still kind to you in their way. They never hurt you, they cleaned you up after they used you, made sure the fire was going strong throughout the day so you would be warm enough. But they never held you anymore, never wrapped you up in their big, strong arms and told you it would all be ok. Never made you come anymore. And you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to ask it of them. It felt too much like surrendering, even though you knew there was little you could give that they hadn’t already taken.

You wished you knew what you had done to bring about the change. At the time you had hated the attention they lavished on you. The kind words and gentle touches. But now you found yourself missing them. All adding to the confused jumble of feelings about your captors that bounced around your brain and ran you emotionally ragged. You missed them when they left, hated them when they were inside you, hated yourself most of all for craving affection from the men holding you prisoner. And with all this came the realisation of how precarious your position was. When they finally fully tired of you what would happen? Would they kill you? Would they turn you out into the harsh winter to fend for yourself? A death sentence with your lack of skills but at least they wouldn’t have to get their hands dirty. Worse yet, would they pass you on to someone else? Trade you like cattle for supplies. The thought left you sickened.

You thought back to the morning things had changed for the umpteenth time, trying to decipher what had happened. Tommy had wandered into the main room shortly after daybreak as usual, waking you with a gruff, “on your back princess, spread your legs.”

You did as you were told, no fight left in you now and he clambered on top you. He fucked you harder and faster than usual, no mean feat given how he usually took you. He made no effort to make you come, no fingers rubbing your clit, no attention payed to your breasts, no words of encouragement or praise. Even without all of that, his cock alone was enough to have the pleasure building within you but he came hard before you could tip off the edge, filling you with his semen. He’d pulled out hastily, didn’t even bother to admire his cum leaking out of you like usual. He cleaned you up and got on with making breakfast as if nothing unusual was happening.

You wondered if he had not slept well. Or if there was something on his mind. But when the same thing happened when Joel fucked you later that day and again when Tommy fucked you right before bed time you realised something had shifted. You hated that you didn’t know what. Alone and in the dark as always. And so it had continued for 2 weeks. Day after day your orgasms were denied to you. Ripped from your grasp just as you teetered on the edge. It had left you so frustrated you could scream. After 4 days of this torture you had waited until they went to bed and tried to make yourself come. You circled your clit with your fingers, trying to mimic the motions the brothers had used, but you could never seem to find the right spot or the right rhythm. After hours of trying you managed a weak, paltry climax that was nowhere near being worth the effort and did little to relieve your frustrations.

You were pulled from your reverie by the front door opening. Joel came in, closing the door behind him quickly to keep the heat in. You watched him as he removed his coat and hung it on the hook by the door and then settled on the couch to take off his boots. He looked tired you thought. You pushed down images of you taking a nap together, you wrapped up in his big, beefy arms. That’s not how this worked. Not anymore.

He undressed and you couldn’t deny the sight of his naked body made your pussy throb. A purely Pavlovian response. You’re no better than a fucking dog you chastised yourself. But he really was beautiful. Big and broad and strong.

He climbed onto the bed and eased your legs apart without a word. He settled between them on his knees, immediately shoving his middle finger inside of you. He pumped gently for a minute before easing his index finger inside next to it, pumping and scissoring them a few times before pulling them out. That was all the prep he gave you now. You took some small comfort that he bothered at all. Surely if he was truly done with you he would not care if he caused you pain? He lined himself up with your core, leaning over you, his hot breath fanning over your face. He worked you open with 3 hard thrusts, gaining ground inside your pussy each time until he was fully sheathed inside you. He closed his eyes as he continued thrusting, building up to a bruising pace until he was positively railing you, the headboard thudding violently into the wall as his balls ricocheted forcefully off your ass. Moans fell from him with every push as he enjoyed you, mingling with the noises he was drawing from you as you fought to bring your climax into being.

You felt the coil tightening within you, you were so close. You hoped and prayed that this time you could finish before he did, that you could relieve some of the aching tension that had been building for so long. But you should have known that there was no-one listening to your prayers, God abandoned you long ago. You felt your orgasm slip through your grasp once again as he stilled and spurted inside you with a groan. You let out a sound that was halfway between a scream and a growl, your frustration reaching breaking point. He pulled himself out of you and immediately climbed off the bed.

You curled yourself into a ball and sobbed out, “what did I do wrong?”

“What do you mean baby?”

“You never let me come anymore. You never want to stay with me. Are you getting sick of me? What will happen to me when you’re done with me?”

He heaved out a sigh and crouched down next to the bed so his face was level with yours.

“Ain’t nobody getting sick of you baby. But you were gettin’ so upset, didn’t seem like you liked that stuff all that much, we thought this might make it easier for you.”

“Why do you care?” you whispered, already ashamed at how easily you caved,

“Baby, we ain’t good men, but we ain’t monsters.” He brought his thumb up to wipe a stray tear from your face. After weeks of nothing from him, that one tender touch had your eyes fluttering closed and your breath catching in your throat. “Ain’t no fun for us to watch you cry baby.”

Once he’d cleaned you up and refilled your water, Joel got redressed and headed back outside to help Tommy finish fixing the fence around the chicken coop before lunch.

“How was she?” Tommy asked as Joel ambled over.

“Good. Real good. Think she’s close to breaking.”

“Thank fuck for that.”

“I’ll let her stew on it for a few hours and then I’ll go back and see how amenable she’s feelin’.”

“She better be feelin’ very amenable, I’m not sure how much longer I can hold out, I need to feel that pussy clenching on me again Joel, fuck I’ve missed it.”

“Patience brother. She’ll give herself over to us. Bit by bit. Once that first wall crumbles the others will topple without too much effort. Just trust me. Got her right where we want her.”

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@aurorawritestoescape

#dark!joel miller #dark!tommy miller #pedro pascal #gabriel luna #joel miller x f!reader #tommy miller x reader

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fanofurfics · 1 year ago

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V-Day 💗

A Bucky Barnes Fic

Pairing: Bucky and FemReader

Content warnings: Pure self-indulgent fluff, alcohol. Minimal use of Y/N.

Word Count: 1664

A/N: So I did it. I decided to try my hand at my first Fanfic and decided I’d write and share it today for Valentine’s Day. This was written in the span of about an hour and minimal edits, so any and all mistakes are mine. Please be gentle with me 🫣 I also can’t stress enough this is purely self-indulgent fluff with our boy Bucky ‘cause that’s what I want today.

You had just gotten off of work and it had been a rough day. Being bombarded by the decorations, flowers, cards. Coworkers talking about where they and their date were going tonight inevitably asking what you were doing. And you were doing nothing. No date, no romantic night in, hell, no obligatory Valentine’s Day sex. When someone would “awe” or pout, you assured them it was fine - you were fine. But now without work to keep you busy, you really didn’t feel like doing nothing at home all alone. Luckily there was a bar right around the corner.

By the time you finished your first drink, you had started to rethink your decision. More and more couples filtered in, though you were sure it would be the same just about anywhere tonight. You started to really feel alone. You were doing another visual sweep of the room when you noticed a man walk through the doors. His deep set bright blue eyes stood out first. His strong brow and the scruff on his face kept you looking longer. You had always liked a man in leather. You catch yourself nearly drooling and spin back around towards the bar hoping he didn’t notice you clearly noticing him.

You go to take a drink and remember it’s empty. Just as you reach out to wave down the bartender, the man takes a seat at the bar, leaving just one chair between you, and calls out to the bartender as well just as she’s walking over.

”Sorry. Ladies first” the blue eyed lone man said.

“Thanks.” You smile. Maybe it's just because you’re feeling a little lonely tonight but that small act of chivalry makes you blush.

It isn’t long after you order your drink that another man comes to approach you with his scantily clad date in tow. “Hey, do you think you could scoot over so my girlfriend and I can sit at the bar?” You fight the urge to roll your eyes but smile and nod. “Sure.” You look to both empty seats next to you and before you can make the move yourself, the blue eyed gentleman reaches beside him and pulls out the chair next to him without taking his eye off his whisky in hand. You take it as an invitation, sliding your drink towards him and scooting over.

“Thanks.” You settle in, grabbing your drink to swirl the ice. “They should’ve got here earlier if they wanted their choice of seats.” You grumble just loud enough under your breath that he hears it and snickers before he takes another drink. His reaction is enough for you to decide to make a little small talk with him. You’re sure the bartender would like it if you found someone else to talk to tonight.

“Thanks for the seat. I’m Y/N.” You hold out your hand to the man next to you and he takes it, giving you a firm but gentle shake.

”Bucky.”

”Bucky.” You smile to yourself.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just don’t think I’ve met anyone with that name before.” You hope you haven’t already pissed him off by saying something stupid.

”Ah. Well now you have.” He gives a polite smile and goes back to watching the tv behind the bar.

After a few minutes had passed, all you could think about was this guy Bucky. It had been a long time since anyone had captured your attention like this. He was tall, had dark hair, and was extremely handsome. He was quiet, and came off broody, but had been polite to you so far. Sure, you had resigned to do nothing tonight, and maybe it was the drinks but now you didn’t feel all that much like being alone. Unless maybe it was with Bucky. You figured what did you have to lose? If you didn’t hit it off you’d be right back where you are now.

You turn in your chair to face him. ”Have you looked around at everyone here tonight? Most of them have been looking at their phones all night.” He slowly turned his gaze to you first to make sure you were talking to him. You looked at him, eyebrow raised and waiting for some kind of answer. The more seconds that passed, you were sure he would say nothing and just go back to his drink. Fair enough.

He looked around him then turned back to you. “I did notice. Must be pretty crappy dates if they can’t even give each other their attention for a few hours.”

He didn’t completely dismiss you! Great! The two of you continue to make small talk and discuss how sad it is that today people are so in tune with everything around them except those immediately near them. You both start listing off other things one could be doing than wasting time and money out with someone when you’re barely going to connect with them.

You’re really enjoying the conversation and as far as you can tell, he is too. You decide to get a little more personal. “So, did your date stand you up?” He’s staring straight ahead as he takes a swig. Maybe you crossed a sensitive line.

��No” is all he says. You can’t help but think you’ve hit a nerve, but you’re enjoying his company so much you have to try and save this.

”Well that’s good. I wouldn’t want to ask out some guy who was feeling vulnerable.”

Bucky choked a bit on his whisky, then looked at you and cocked his head.

You decided to ask before you lost your nerve.

“How would you feel about being Valentines for the evening? Maybe go play some pool or something?”

Bucky looked around the bar but before he could say anything you added. “There’s a place down the street. It's another bar. They serve whisky.” A small smile creeps up Bucky’s lips. He downs his drink and stands to help you out of your seat. “Shall we then?”

The second bar was crowded as well, but luckily you two were able to secure a pool table and had played game after game. In between rounds, you would put music on the jukebox hoping to hear your song between the long list others had played.

Conversation was easy between you too. He obviously wasn’t the most talkative of people but he was funny, sarcastic. And he was also incredibly sweet. The entire time he had gotten you your drinks and even insisted on paying for them. He’d hold your pool stick for you when you went to the bathroom. There was even a moment when he was taking his shot that he noticed some guy coming on to you and not getting the hint that you weren't interested. Bucky walked right up and put himself between you and the inebriated man. “We got a problem?” Bucky asked. The way this man could stare daggers at people was terrifying. And, a little exciting if you were being honest.

The drunken fool decided to push him in the chest and Bucky didn’t even budge. This infuriated the guy who then took a swing at Bucky, who caught his fist in his left hand and with the slightest squeeze, the man was on his knees. “Okay! Okay! Okay! Ow ow ow!” The drunken fool stumbled out of the bar with his tail between his legs after that.

The hours flew and before you knew it, it was last call and you two were the only ones left in the bar. You realized you had had so much fun you forgot about work in the morning. Begrudgingly you decide to call it a night. “Hey Bucky, I’ve had a really great time, but I should probably get going.” You walked over to grab your jacket off of the chair.

”Hold on.” Bucky put up a hand and then dug out a dollar from his pocket as he went to the jukebox. An old Billie Holiday song comes on and as he walks up to you, he extends his right hand. “May I have this dance?”

You can’t hide the grin that beams from your face and he smiles back. The two of you stand there in the middle of the empty bar and begin to sway back and forth in each other's arms. One hand in yours, the other on the small of your back, you feel yourself begin to melt for this man. He pulls you just the slightest bit closer and rests his face against yours. You had been on dates and had flings recently, but nothing with them had ever felt this intimate. This correct. Your heart breaks just a little as the song ends. You wish you could stay in this moment forever. You’re barely able to tear yourself apart from him, but do. Bucky grabs your coat and helps slip it over your shoulders.

“May I walk you home?” Bucky asks as he holds open the exit door.

”Please.” You don’t see it, but he is grinning now too.

The four block walk goes by too quickly and soon you’re on the steps leading up to your apartment building. You’re about to say something but Bucky beats you to it. “Thanks for the great time, doll. This was the best Valentine’s Day I’ve had in a long, long time.”

“Me too” you admit. “And Bucky,… You were the perfect gentleman.”

He scoffs at your remark. Bucky gently grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips giving you a tender kiss. “Goodnight.” Before he can let go, you turn your hand to grab his. “Wait.” You’re nervous, but would beat yourself up if you didn’t take the chance. You hadn’t hit it off like this with someone so quickly. “Would you…would you like to come in?”

Bucky gives the smallest smile and thinks about it. He shakes his head. “Next time, doll.” He kissed your hand once more. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Closing the door behind you, you couldn’t help but do a giddy dance before making your way to your apartment and climbing into your bed to dream, no doubt, about your darling Bucky.

#its my first fanfic and first thing I’ve posted public for others to read #please be gentle #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes mcu #Valentine’s Day fanfic #fluff #valentines day

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delicatebarness · 6 months ago

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the manuscript | chapter eleven

Summary: It seems Dr. Barnes is having a hard time without Miss Spector's attention.

Warnings: Age Gap. (Dr Barnes: late 40s & Reader: early 20s). Infidelity. Explicit Sexual Content. Rough Sex. Emotion Distress. Alcohol Use. Power Dynamics.

Word Count: 1664

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Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: I couldn't wait for them any longer. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Each hour dragged by with an agonizing slowness as the weekend stretched out before James. He sat in his home office, fingers drumming on the desk as he glanced down at his phone for what felt like the hundredth time– no new messages, no calls, no emails. With a deep sigh, a knot of worry tightened in his chest.

His mind was clouded by thoughts of you, from the moment, he left Marc’s apartment last night. The way you looked at him with such vulnerability, your troubled expression etched across your features. He hoped you would reach out to him today, even if it was just a brief message to let him know you were okay. Yet, he was deafened by your silence.

He sent a couple of texts, simple and unobtrusive, but you sent no reply. He tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail. He feared drawing unwanted attention if someone else saw the messages causing him to hold off on bombarding you. Sharon hadn’t noticed his distracted state, and even if she did, she would brush off any concern and carry on with her day.

James stayed home most of Saturday and Sunday, pacing his office and running through scenarios in his mind. Should he drive by the apartment, the frat house? Or, call your brother and check in under some pretense? He was aware he had to be careful. Any overt action could arouse suspicion and lead to questions neither of you was prepared to answer.

The scene from Friday night replayed in his mind. The look in your eyes, the way you trembled with confession. He wanted to comfort you and make things right, but he was powerless in your silence.

His frustration began bubbling over by Sunday evening. How could you just disappear without a word? He ran a hand through his hair, he tried to shake off the anger and focus on what he would do when he saw you again. Didn’t you realize how much you meant to him? How much he was worried about you?

As Monday morning came, James sat at his desk early, staring at the door and waiting. A glass of whiskey nursed in his hand as every tick of the clock intensified his emotions. His mind raced with worry and anger, he was furious with you for making him worry, the emotional turmoil you caused him.

Just then, a little over 9 AM, you strolled into his office as if nothing had happened. Carrying two takeout cups of coffee, and a beautiful bright smile on your face. “Good morning, James,” you said cheerfully, setting the cups on his desk. “I brought you your favorite.”

James looked up at you, relief and concern flashed over his expression. A loud scrape against the floor rang through the room as he stood abruptly, slamming his glass down on the desk. “Do you have any idea what you put me through this weekend?” he demanded, his voice low but laced with a genuine worry.

You blinked, taken back by his reaction. “I… I just needed some time,” you stammered, your smile faltering. “I thought it would be best to–”

“To just vanish without a word?” he interrupted, his eyes flashing with anger. “To leave me hanging, not knowing if you were okay?”

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” you said, your voice began to raise in defense. “I just needed to sort out my feelings.”

“How does the smartest woman in this god-damn building, not think?!” James snapped, his frustration boiling over. “You never think about how your actions affect others!”

“That’s not fair!” you shot back, your anger beginning to flare. “You paraded Sharon around in my home, but you can’t handle seeing me in a hallway with Peter?”

His eyes narrowed. “This is different,” he hissed. “Sharon doesn’t mean anything. It’s a facade, and you know that.”

“A facade that cuts me into pieces every time I think about it,” you retorted in a hard whisper. “You expect me to just accept it, while you lose your mind over Peter?”

“It’s not the same,” he insisted, his voice low and intense as he stepped closer. “You agreed to this, knowing what it would be like.”

“And you agreed to care about my feelings,” you whispered furiously. “But, it seems like you only care when it’s convenient for you, Dr. Barnes.”

The tension between you crackled like white noise. And, without another word, you turned on your heel and started for the door. Your coffee cup is long forgotten. Before you could reach for the handle, James grabbed your arm, pulling you back. The sudden movement brought you face-to-face, inches apart, your breaths mingling.

“It aches me not knowing the taste of your lips,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. He reached up, his hand enveloping your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

Your heart pounded in your chest. “Then, why don’t you find out?” you urged, your voice betraying both your longing and defiance.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze locking with yours. His voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke again. “What if I can’t stop myself?”

You breathed out, your voice tinged with desire and vulnerability. Challenging him to cross the threshold between you. “What if I don’t want you to stop?”

With your faces mere inches apart in that charged moment, James couldn’t resist the pull any longer. His heart thundered in his chest, his lips crashed down on yours with a hunger as he closed the gap between you.

Stunned, the intensity of his kiss sent a shockwave through you. But then, without hesitation, you responded. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt.

A fire ignited as the kiss deepened. James pulled you closer and his hands slid down your back, pouring all the pent-up emotions into this singular act of desperation.

His lips moved against yours, an urgency that matched the rapid beating of your heart. You tried to savor the sensation of each other’s lips, the taste of whiskey, the heat that threatened to consume you both.

“I’m sorry,” James murmured hoarsely against your lips. “I shouldn’t have–”

“Don’t apologize,” you whispered against his mouth, interrupting him.

In one swift motion, he lifted you, and your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He moved with purpose as he pushed you up against the wall of his office. His body pinned yours in place. The pressure against your back made you gasp, the sound being swallowed by James’ fervent kiss.

His hands roamed, one sliding up to cradle your throat, the other gripping your thigh, holding you securely against him.

His eyes burned into yours with intensity. “I need you, Baby Girl,” his voice a low growl.

“Then take me,” you breathed out, your voice trembling with desire.

A fierce hunger took over him, tearing at your clothes, his movements were rough and urgent. And soon, you were bare against him, with his hand everywhere exploring, and claiming as if he needed to memorize every inch of you.

You fumbled with his belt, your hands trembling in between you. You felt the heat of him against you when you finally freed him. He paused for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, seeking permission and assurance.

You nodded with a silent plea in your eyes. “Please, Sergeant,” you whispered.

With a guttural growl, he entered you in one swift, powerful thrust. You gasped with the suddenness, your body arching against his. He set a demanding pace, each thrust rough and deep, pushing you closer to the edge with every movement.

You clung to him, your nails leaving marks as your fingers dug into his shoulders. Pain mingled with the pleasure, intensifying the sensations coursing through you.

“Don’t stop,” you begged him, your voice raw with desperation.

“I won’t,” he growled, his voice shaking.

He brought his hand up to your mouth, silencing your moans as he thrust deeper and harder into you. His eyes stayed locked onto yours. The room filled with the sounds of your passion, each thrust, each gasp, each moan bringing you closer.

His other hand gripped onto your hip bruisingly, fingering digging into your flesh as he pounded into you. “You feel so fucking good,” he snarled, breath hot against your ear.

Your muffled cries only spurred him on, and your every nerve ending, alit with sensations as the roughness of his touch sent shockwaves of pleasure. Your body arched against the wall as the rough texture pressed against your skin.

With a final, powerful thrust, he sent you over the edge. Your body began to convulse against his, the pleasure causing you to cry out his name against his hand. Moments later, he followed with his release echoing in the confines of his office.

For a moment, he stood there, keeping your bodies entwined as you came down from the heights of your passion. His hands lingered on your skin as he gently set you down. His eyes filled with satisfaction, and a lingering hint of concern as he looked at you.

“Are you okay, Baby?” he softly asked, his voice a tender contrast compared to the roughness of moments before.

A small smile played on your lips as you nodded. “Better than okay,” you replied, your voice still breathless.

His lips pressed a soft kiss to your forehead as he pulled you into a gentle embrace. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he murmured.

“You didn’t,” you reassured him, your fingers tracing gentle patterns against his chest. “I wanted this. I wanted you.”

His grip tightened around you, and he sighed. “This is going to change everything.”

“I know,” you whispered, burying your face in his chest. “But, maybe that’s okay.”

The future of your relationships was uncertain. The road ahead is fraught with complications. Yet, in those moments, with his arms around you, you thought anything was possible.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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steddieasitgoes · 1 year ago

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@steddiemas Day 2 Prompt: Winter Sentence Starters

3. Did you know icicles make the perfect murder weapon?

Pairing: Pre-Steddie | wc: 1664 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

“Steve?” Eddie asks, squinting into the blinding lights of the familiar burgundy Beamer that’s parked in front of the mound of snow where the driveway usually is. It’s hard to see with the blinding lights and the sunrise bouncing off the bright snow, but Eddie’s pretty sure it’s Steve. He’s the only one who drives a Beamer around these parts of town, that’s for sure.

Sitting up on the outdoor couch, he adjusts the bundle of blankets around his shoulder. His hand fumbles in between the couch cushions until he finds the half-empty box of cigarettes and the lighter he and Wayne keep stashed there “in case of emergencies.” It’s a bit of a chore given the gloves covering his hands, but he gets the job done and brings the lit smoke to his winter-chapped lips. After a slow exhale, he tries again.

“Steve? What the hell are you doing here?”

There’s a clattering on the other side of the Beamer, followed by a string of curses before a figure emerges in the shadows of the lights. “Jesus dude,” Steve gasps. One hand stays pressed against his chest, the other clings to a snow shovel. “What the hell are you doing here? You should be inside it’s freezing out.”

It is freezing out, but there’s not that big of a difference between out here and inside Eddie’s bedroom. Not since the space heater took a shit at 2 am. He tried to fix it, he did. But it’s actually really damn hard to fix a space heater at 2 am when you’ve only slept for an hour because of chronic pain and nightmares and you can’t find the damn toolbox that’s supposed to be tucked away in the closet.

Frustrated beyond belief, Eddie needed a smoke and one thing led to another, and the next thing he knew he was being woken up by the rumbling of Steve’s Beamer. At least he was smart enough to put on gloves and wrap himself in his duvet before coming out here.

“Seriously, man. You’re going to freeze to death.”

“You know the dramatics are my thing,” Eddie teases, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. “I’ve got a blanket and gloves.” Eddie wiggles his fingers for extra emphasis. “And this head of hair isn’t just for looks. Actually keeps me pretty warm too.”

Steve snorts, absentmindedly tugging on the end of his scarf. “Yeah, okay, man. Whatever you say.”

“So, I ask again,” Eddie says, pausing to exhale another puff of smoke. “What are you doing here at whatever time it is.”

“It’s 5,” Steve supplies, then holds up the snow shovel. “Who do you think shovels the snow around here since you’re out of commission? The snow fairy?”

The smoke in Eddie’s lungs gets trapped as his body tries to laugh and instead, he sends himself into a coughing fit that has him clutching his already aching sides. “First of all fuck you. Don’t joke about fairies!” he says, all bark no bite. “Secondly, I usually shovel the snow, but as you are aware, I’m still not allowed to lift more than two pounds thanks to our wonderful Spring Break adventures.”

“And you’re milking that for all it’s worth.”

Eddie’s quick to flip him the bird, rolling his eyes in the process. “S’Wayne paying you? That old bastard better not be paying you. I never got a dime when he made me shovel.”

“Probably because you always forgot, right?”

“You know what, Steve,” Eddie starts, trying to get up from the couch when a rush of pain races up his torso. Jesus H. Christ, he should be used to this by now. Biting his lip to keep the groan in, he settles himself back on the couch.

“M’just messing with you, Eds,” Steve says, shooting him an apologetic look. If anyone knows the pain he’s going through, it’s Steve. And yet, Steve’s wounds healed in record time, and Eddie’s on month nine of barely being able to make it down the three steps of his trailer. Yet another unfairness the universe has drawn for him.

“I was over helping the Mayfields during the last big storm and saw your uncle struggling to park after his shift. Figured if I’m here helping Max, I could help you guys out too. No big deal.”

Eddie’s not sure what universe Steve lives in, but agreeing to do manual labor for free is a big deal. A massive, big deal, actually. At least, in his universe it is. He doesn’t sign up for any sort of manual labor unless he’s getting paid. Fuck capitalism and all that, but also, you know, it’s only fair to cash in when it benefits him.

“Right, well, m’sure my uncle appreciates it.”

“He does,” Steve nods, resting the shovel on his shoulder. “So, you gonna quit distracting me now so I can get to work?”

Eddie extends one glove-covered hand out in front of him, fanning it out over the mountain of white snow separating them. “The snow is yours, my liege.”

Steve snorts, shaking his head. He takes a few steps away from the Beamer before repositioning the shovel in his hands. In one fluid motion, he drives the shovel the mix of fresh and packed snow. The metal clatter against the frozen chunks at the bottom but the sound doesn’t drown out the groan that leaves Steve's lips as he hoists a giant pile of snow up and over to the side.

Jesus H. Christ.

Eddie takes an extra long drag from his cigarette, eyes glued to Steve as he does the same thing again. He holds the smoke in his lungs, tries to concentrate on not choking as he watches Steve shovel another massive pile of snow away.

There’s at least twenty feet of distance between them, but Eddie’s eyes are glued to Steve. His pale blue puffy jacket does a lot to obscure his muscles, but Eddie’s always had an overactive imagination. He doesn’t need a clear visual to know that Steve’s biceps are straining every time he hoists the shovel out of the snow. Or the way his back muscles flex, showing off that swimmer's upper body of his.

Steve’s ditched snow pants like most do around here and instead has his trusty pair of blue jeans on. Eddie knows from experience that denim does little to shield the freezing temperatures, but he can’t complain. Not when Steve’s ass is on full display when he squats to investigate what the shovel has just slammed into. (A stray dog toy from two trailers over.)

If he doesn’t look away soon, he’s going to be in trouble. Even the cold as fuck temperature can’t keep the blood from rushing to his dick for long. A blessing and a curse, Eddie supposes.

Taking another drag, Eddie tilts his head so it rests against the headrest of the couch. Exhaling, the plume of smoke and cold air mix, getting whisked away in the early morning breeze. It might actually be colder now than it was at 2 am.

With his head still turned upward, he can hear the rhythmic sounds of Steve shoveling the snow. The clink of the metal shovel with the snow, the scrape as he digs it down to the pavement. The occasional huff of frustration when Steve’s bitten off more than he can chew. Stubborn as always.

If he keeps making noises like that though, Eddie’s going to need a lot more than a smoke and a new direction for his eyes to keep his mind out of the gutter—

Speaking of gutters, they really need to get someone to clear out all the damn icicles clinging to them like damn Christmas trees. One harsh slam of the door and he or Wayne is going to take an icicle straight to the head. A month in a coma, seven months of physical therapy, and one dropped murder charge is not going to go to waste over a goddamn icicle. Not if he can help it at least.

Honestly, out of all of that, he’s still most upset about the murder thing. He won’t even go fishing with Wayne after that one year with the fish who flopped around practically hasping for breath until Wayne stabbed it with his pocket knife. Never again. Eddie prefers his food already cooked and void of eyes thank you very much.

Besides killing someone in his house is way too obvious. An amateur move if he’s ever seen one. He’d at least been more smart about it. If he was going to kill someone, but he’s not. Obviously. But if he was, Eddie’s thoughts trail off as the sun catches on the translucent icicle, washing his body in the warm rays of sunlight.

“You know, icicles would make the perfect murder weapon.”

The sound of the snow shovel clattering to the floor startles him. His head whips in the direction of the noises. It takes a moment a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden change in light, but when they do Steve is staring at him, hands on his hips and a frown tugging at his pale lips.

“Maybe don’t joke about murder when we’ve just cleared your name,” Steve scolds, shaking his head. “Or do you want to go back into hiding?”

Eddie’s mouth is faster than his brain, words tumbling out before he has a chance to realize the implications of his words.

“Depends. Would you be hiding me again?”

A sickening silence falls between them as all the blood in Eddie’s body rushes to his cheeks. At least his nose isn’t cold anymore. He’s two seconds away from scampering into the trailer, head slung low in embarrassment when Steve’s unabashed chuckle breaks the silence.

“You can crash at my place anytime, you know.”

No, Eddie did not know that. But now? Now, he thinks that damn space heater isn’t worth bothering Wayne for after all.

#steddiemas #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie fan fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #dani writes #stranger things #stranger things fic

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mysticstronomy · 7 months ago

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WHAT IS THE GREAT RED SPOT ON JUPITER MADE OF??

Blog#415

Wednesday, July 3rd, 2024.

Welcome back,

The Great Red Spot is an anticyclone, a long-lasting area of high pressure on Jupiter creating a persistent storm.

Located in Jupiter's Southern Hemisphere, it is the largest storm in our solar system, appearing as a giant red spot on Jupiter's surface. It has existed for the last 150 years, possibly even longer according to NASA.

The spot may have been discovered in 1664 by English scientist Robert Hooke or in 1665 by Italian astronomer Giovanni Cassini, according to the American Physical Society. It is possible one or both men observed either the shadow of one of Jupiter's moons or a different spot. An illustration with a red spot on Jupiter similar to the modern spot appeared in 1831, and the spot has been observed consistently since 1878 when it was re-discovered by American astronomer C.W. Pritchett.

The Great Red Spot is an anticyclone, rotating counterclockwise once about every six days, according to The Planets, and produces winds up to 580 mph (933 kph), according to Smithsonian.

On Earth, anticyclones are created when high atmospheric pressure causes air from higher altitudes to be forced down. They are often associated with clear, warm, and dry weather. Cyclones on the other hand form around a central area of low pressure causing air to rise and are associated with cloudy, windy and rainy weather.

While anticyclones don't cause storms on Earth on the same scale as a cyclone, they can contribute to storms and inclement weather conditions, such as Anticyclone Hartmut during the 2018 cold wave in the British Isles, according to Weather and Radar.

Though scientists understand how anticyclones form on Earth, no one knows for sure exactly how or when the Great Red Spot formed, according to the Planetary Society.

It's also not clear why it is so incredibly long-lived, though scientists have several guesses. One hypothesis is that it is trapped between two opposite-flowing jet streams which act like two conveyor belts, keeping the Great Red Spot spinning on both sides, according to Insider.

Another is that the vertical flow of heat and cold inside the storm helps keep it alive. A significant factor in its longevity is the fact that Jupiter, as a gas planet, has no surface, and thus there is no friction to slow the storm, according to JStor Daily.

Originally published on https://www.space.com

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, July 6th, 2024)

"COULD LIFE EXIST ON TITAN??"

#astronomy #outer space #alternate universe #astrophysics #universe #spacecraft #white universe #space #parallel universe #astrophotography #jupiter

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sachirobabe · 10 months ago

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Chapter 3

Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

Wc: 1664

Summary: You, a dedicated member of the girls' volleyball team, find an unexpected connection with Kuroo Tetsurou. Igniting a bond over shared passions and stolen moments, love blossoms on the court; all because you met him at a captains meeting.

<— Previous | Masterlist | Next —>

Taglist: @merlucide, @lemurzsquad, @02shuuu

After a grueling week, your tryouts officially ended. There was already an idea of what the lineup would be looking like, but your coach wanted to have a meeting about it.

Which is why you're at school on your only days off from both practice and your studies. Normally, meetings weren't every week, but it was a new season so they'd be more frequent for the first couple of weeks.

Your team had been too busy with tryouts to have a practice match with the boys', but it'd be happening this upcoming week and you were so excited.

"Good morning." You say walking into the gym, Kuroo and coach Nekomata were both seated—well Kuroo was on the floor, lying on his stomach.

"Good morning." Kuroo smiled, then began writing on his piece of paper on the floor.

"Where's Mori at?" You look around confusingly, trying to spot her light brown hair, pulled back into a loose pony tail.

"Her office, I think." Kuroo answers.

"I thought she said the bathroom?" Coach Nekomata furrows his brows and in response Kuroo shrugs. You sit down next to him and eye his paper, he's drawing up some lineups.

You frown at the absence of your coach. She made you get up early when you should be sleeping in like the rest of your teammates. The worst part is she didn't bribe you this time so you had nothing to look forward to.

Kuroo finishes and hands his paper to his coach, he examines it and held onto it for a minute or two. He kicks his feet, waiting for feedback. You laugh at him silently, in your head. He's kinda cute.

"What do you think about this, Y/n?" Coach Nekomata hands you the paper, it's slightly crumpled, you're starting to think that all of Kuroo's papers are.

You take it from his hands and look at the rotations, "I think a 5-1 is a good choice, especially if your second setter is clearly outplayed by Kenma." You follow the rotations more, seeing which players are getting switched.

"You guys also run a 5-1 too, right?" Kuroo bites the inside of his cheek, not wanting to sound like a creep for knowing.

"Yeah," you chuckle, "I think it looks great. You have a good use of substitutions." You smile and hand back the paper to him. His hand brushes yours for a millisecond as he grabs it.

"This is the lineup we'll beat your team with." He smirks.

"Oh yeah? Confident, I like it." You say,the door to the gym opens and all of your heads turn. "And where were you? We agreed on 9:30 am sharp. You're late." You lecture.

"Oh please, I don't want to hear it." She laughs. "I was here before you, I just had to get some things from my office." She shuffles some things around in her backpack, then pulls out a blank piece of paper, like Kuroo's, just not crumpled. "Start thinking of some lineups." She says.

You frown, "Can I borrow that?" You point to Kuroo's pencil and he immediately nods and slides it to you. "Thank you."

"I think we got this one in the bag." Kuroo now flips from his stomach to his back and faces the gym ceiling.

"Uh-huh, sure." You draw out the last word. "How many tournaments have you won?"

He clicks his tongue, "We've won."

"Recently?" You raise an eyebrow, staring into his eyes.

He can feel his cheeks begin to heat up, he turns away before you could see, "Yeah well, you lost some valuable players last season."

"We have good first-years." You say, "I heard one of your first-years can't receive well, isn't that what your team's known for?"

The two coaches watch you two banter back and forth, Mori reminding Kuroo that you had to finish the rotations still and to stop distracting you. The meeting was pretty short, there wasn't a lot to cover besides lineups.

"You're staying?" You point between the two coaches, Kuroo and you helped clean up and were ready to leave.

"We've got a board meeting in a little." Coach Nekomata says and you nod, bidding them goodbye for the day as you walk out with Kuroo.

You're not surprised to see that it's lightly raining, since it had been all week, and yet you still didn't bring an umbrella. "You have an umbrella?"

"Of course I do." He chuckles, opening it and luckily it was big enough for the two of you to be under. "Have you eaten already?"

You shook your head, "I was starving that whole time," you laugh, "Have you?"

He shook his head, "There's this convenience store by my house, you wanna go get something?" He strengthens his grip on the umbrella.

"Yeah." You smile.

He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding and turns his head so he can smile like a schoolgirl, he quickly recomposes himself and look forward again.

You thought Kuroo was nice, you've never really gotten to know him, but you were semi-close to Kai, one of his teammates, only because he was in your class.

"How'd you feel about the first week of classes?" You ask after a moment of silence.

"Pretty easy, I'm enjoying it while it lasts." He says and you chuckle.

"Yeah, it gets rough around June and July. We usually use the first hour of practice to study before actually playing." You say.

"So you guys practice less?" Kuroo is intrigued by this, he had never heard of a team doing anything like it.

"No, we extend it to end an hour later, coach just wants to make sure we at least do something productive before practice." You clarify.

He hums, "I'm sure you have no issue passing exams." He compliments.

You smile, "Not really, I study frequently. I could say the same about you." You slightly nudge him.

He shrugs and rolls his eyes playfully, "Aw stop it, I just pay attention, that's all."

"Consider that the last time I compliment you." You laugh.

"I'm kidding! I appreciate it, thanks." He laughs along with you. "This is it." He says, looking both ways before crossing the street to the convenience store. The second you spot food, your stomach began to grumble.

You found yourself in a different aisle than Kuroo, trying to choose from the two onigiri in your hand. You decided to take both, you're extremely hungry. Kuroo came up next to you in line, you noticed he had a sandwich and a drink, an iced tea you think.

It was your turn next in line, you kindly greeted the man at the register and placed your items on the counter. What you didn't expect was to see Kuroo's items placed next to yours, you turn confusingly, but he had already given the man his card.

"You didn't have to—"

"Nonsense. I'm the one who asked you to come." He smiles widely, then quickly takes his card back and puts it inside of his wallet. "Cmon, let's eat." He grabs the bag full of your shared items.

"Thank you." You sincerely say, feeling a little bad about him paying, not that it was expensive, but still.

"Of course." The rain had stopped, the sun began to come out of the gray clouds. He leads you to one of the benches at a nearby park, it had an umbrella so it wasn't too soaked.

"God, I'm starving." He says, handing you your items.

You agree with him and a comfortable silence falls between you two as you're both distracted with eating. You eye the area around you, it was unfamiliar, but it wasn't too far from your home.

You watch an owner play with her dog, repeatedly throwing the ball for the dog to run and get it, it made you smile. You crumble up the wrapper the onigiri was in and place it on the table.

"You know," You begin, Kuroo was also watching the dog, but now his eyes were looking into yours, "I've lived here for a while now and I've never been to this park before."

Kuroo chuckles, "It's nice, right?" And you nod. "Kenma and I would play here all the time."

"That sounds nice." You smile and begin watching the dog again, Kuroo can't help but continue to stare at you.

"He didn't like it very much, his arms would hurt after playing volleyball for a long time." Kuroo recalls the memory.

"I believe that. I'm surprised he's still playing." You honestly say.

"I think he likes it. In his own way." He shrugs. "You and Himari are close, too."

You smile, thinking of your best friend, "Yeah, we grew up next to each other. It was nice having someone in the same grade, it felt like I wasn't going through anything alone."

"I get that, she's like a sister to you." He says and you immediately agree. Both of your families had been close since the day they moved in. "You don't have siblings don't you?"

"No, only child." You shrug.

"I have an older sister." He says.

"Really?" You're surprised, you would've thought he was an only child.

"Yeah, she's way older, so I don't see her very often." As he finishes his sentence, the sun quickly goes away and the sounds of thunder hit your ears. "Oh shit." Kuroo says.

"I think it's gonna rain again." You say, "I better get going."

"I hope it's not too long of a walk." Kuroo says, worried that you're going to get soaked.

"No, don't worry it's not." You smile, "I'll see you later. Thank you again for paying!" You say as you leave, speed walking towards your house.

Kuroo watches you get further and further away, his heart was pounding from the moment you walked into the gym. A small smile remains on his face as he walks back home.

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visionofvoid · 2 years ago

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Homewrecker - MV1 Part Three

summary: “who said you were my best friend? lewis is.”

warnings: jealous max, crash hehe, protective george, max and george fight, swearing hehe

pairings: max verstappen x oc

word count: 1664

taglist: @ravenqueen27, @octaviareina

PART ONE PART TWO

“You can’t love me, Max, you need to hate me.”

George and Lewis had become Blake’s closest friends, especially after that stupid confession in the Red Bull Racing hallway back in Zandvoort. She made it to the meeting with more than enough time, a coffee in hand and all her devices, papers and notes in the other. She sat beside Toto throughout the whole race, sliding over little tidbits he needed from the crew behind them. It was certainly a race to witness.

It was safe to say that Kelly and Max broke up after Blake ran off in the hallway that day. It was the worst performance of his life, going from pole position to fourth place, his rivals at Mercedes taking the top two spots with Pierre in front of him. It was an embarrassment, especially after he won the race prior. He was at the top of his game, really giving Lewis a run for his money but he really let the events earlier get to him.

The next few weeks were absolute and utter hell. He went no contact with Kelly and Penelope and not speaking to the young girl was torture enough, he was getting threats from Nelson Piquet for falling in love with someone that he referred to as ‘The Help’ and Christian was really not impressed with his performance. To top it all off he wanted to clear things up with Blake, but it seemed as if she was avoiding him at all costs, not that she was seeking him out before the confession. He was used to seeing her mingling with other people from the other teams but he now only saw her or got glimpses of her when she was with George or Lewis.

George. George fucking Russell. His performance was excelling whilst behind the wheel of a Mercedes car and Max was done with it. He was sick and tired of watching all the Instagram stories of Blake hanging out with the two Mercedes drivers, sick of watching her being her goofy self with George, tormenting a meditating Lewis with George. Everything she seemed to do, she was doing it with George.

Max followed her Instagram, when she eventually put it on public due to popular demand from the fans. It was usually behind the scenes images of the boys, travelling photo dumps and sneaky pictures of Toto for all the fans. He was guilty for following it, especially when she didn’t follow him back. He should just move on, he should just focus on being the World Champion or trying to become World Champion but he just couldn’t keep his mind off her.

Austin was the one race that Blake was looking forward to the most. She had been to Silverstone, gushed over ageing actors that she could have only dreamed to be in the same vicinity of, drank fancy alcohol in fancy clothes and danced on tables with her boss and his wife. But America, especially Austin? Boy, she was excited.

Over the course of the weekend she had met so many celebrities she could only dream of meeting, being introduced to on a first name basis by a now close friend that was Lewis Hamilton. She attended work dinners at steakhouses and shared a whole plate of ribs with George (that was posted on both hers and George’s instagram) but she had Max lingering in the back of her mind.

“What the fuck is this George?” Toto cursed into the microphone attached to the headset, Blake looking at the screens to see her friend neck in neck with Max.

“I’m trying to defend Lewis from Max.” With her own headset on Blake could hear the chatter coming from all the engineers trying to instruct George on how to proceed.

“He keeps trying to run me off the fucking road, Christ!” Blake’s eyes flickered from one screen to the next, watching as the Red Bull race car driver kept driving dangerously close to Blake’s close friend. She watched in horror as Max slowly started to gain more speed approaching turn 12 from the straight after turn 11 and he showed no signs of slowing down. He was trying to call George’s bluff.

“I’m going to keep pushing, he’ll have to slow down.” George spoke through the coms, Toto and his engineers agreeing with the last minute strategy. Her eyes should be focused on George but instead Blake watched Max’s car with eagle eyes, waiting for the moment that Max’s vehicle would slow down.

But it never did.

“This is not right!” Toto yelled angrily, throwing his headset off and at the screens before jumping down from the platform. Blake sat in her seat, a hand over her mouth as she looked at the wreck that was on the screen. It played the crash again, this time in slow motion to capture every last second whilst the safety was deployed and Toto came back to his position, placing his headset on.

“George? Are you okay?” There were some muffled sounds from the other end as Blake continued watching. The cars spun around each other onto the gravel before Max’s car clipped the wheel of George’s and flipped on top of it. “George?” Then she saw as they collided with the tire wall, Max’s world upside down.

“I-I’m fine. I’m okay.” George’s voice finally cleared up and then footage of George climbing out through a gap was shown, yet no Max on the screen. Blake let out a sigh of relief when George started to make his way to some officials and to get away from the wreck. Blake’s eyes flickered to Max’s car, noticing a small spark and a body still in the vehicle. He seemed rather disoriented before he seemed to come to his senses, trying to get his way out.

Blake seemed worried for a second and whilst she would feel worried for any driver in this situation it felt almost different. She didn’t want to see him harmed, in any sort of pain. She wanted him to be okay. It was a foreign feeling that's for sure, and not something she could ever equate to wanting someone like George or Lewis to be safe.

“Shit! George, Max can’t get out. The car is on fire!” Blake spoke into her coms. It wasn’t very often she spoke but this seemed to snap George’s head to the wreckage. He immediately sprung into action, rushing back towards the cars and beckoning over some of the officials to help. They all bunched around the small gap that George had emerged from earlier and worked together to wiggle Max out whilst the spark turned into something a little more harrowing. Fire marshals armed with fire extinguishers rushed towards the end of the car and started to try and get rid of the fire, it only growing in return. They finally freed Max and dragged him away from the wreck as the track turned into a red flag and all cars returned to the Pit until they were allowed to be back on track.

“Is he okay George?” Blake questioned, watching everything live on the screen yet getting no answer.

It was a bittersweet win for Mercedes with Lewis winning the Austin GP, Charles and Sergio following in taking the other two spots on the podium. As instructed by Toto, Blake was to accompany George to get a routine check up and fill out incident reports before the following weekend in Mexico. Max was coming out of the infirmary room with his PR advisor and looked up to see George and Blake in front of him. He saw red. All he could see was George and Blake together, not Blake being a supportive friend and making sure he wasn’t alone.

Together Blake and Max’s PR advisor watched in shock as Max pushed George up against the wall, the very few people that were in the building and not at the podium to watch the champagne celebration watching the drama unfold.

“Max, what are you doing?” His PR advisor was pushed away as she tried to get in the middle of it, trying to pull him off the large, slender Brit.

“That was fucking crazy out there man, you should have let me past.”

“I should have let you pass? You should have slowed down, like an actual fucking human decent human being. That crash was all you mate.” George stared down at Max, the two glaring at one another. Max’s PR advisor just looked to Blake for some sort of help. The two women were both unsure what to do. “I saved your fucking life, mate, a thank you would suffice.” George had a smug look on his face. Blake stepped forward, reading to intervene but stopped when George briefly held up his hand.

“Your girl coming to rush to your aid? How cute.” The whole thing turned into one childish argument on Max’s behalf.

“If it wasn’t for my girl, you’d probably be getting treatment for third degree burns. Have a bit of respect mate and do your research before you accuse friends of being something more. Though, I guess you have a bad track record about labels, you know, being in love with someone that isn't your long-term girlfriend.” Max was getting ready to raise his hand when Blake finally decided to intervene. She grabbed his arm, squeezing on his bicep through the race suit and he looked to the side for a moment before looking back up at George.

“Max, just leave.” Everyone seemed to be waiting to see what he would do next. Would there be a punch thrown? Another shove? Some more words shared? Instead he let George go and stormed off, leaving his PR advisor with the Mercedes driver and Blake.

“The man says he loves you then he goes and starts trying to kill her best friend. Shameless act honestly.”

“Who said you were my best friend? Lewis is.”

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lpsotd · 1 year ago

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hi!! can i request beagle #1664? if it's not been done already-

todays littlest pet shop of the day is ... beagle #1664 !! for you, @therealmaquaroonie !!

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whencyclopedia · 3 months ago

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The Legend of Romulus

Despite allegedly founding Rome and being hailed a hero, Romulus’ legacy is complex and his biography is even disturbing at times. He was supposedly guilty of committing many terrible deeds that still make readers recoil, but according to legend, his transgressions often led to positive outcomes – at least from the Romans’ point of view. Thanks to his efforts' results, the Romans largely celebrated their fabled founder, and it seems that they recognized valuable lessons hiding within his biography: greatness sometimes stems from disgrace, and the path to redemption is often close at hand.

Lineage & Birth

According to Rome's canonical foundation myth, Romulus was born sometime in the 700s BCE. His parents were supposedly a priestess – called Rhea Silvia – and the god of war Mars, which provided Romulus with a pedigree second to few in the ancient world. To some, this might have intimated that he would enjoy a lifetime of opulence, without serious challenges, and he would be a paragon of morality. On the contrary, Romulus was fated for a life marked by instances of ignominy and egregious misdeeds.

Romulus’ maternal grandfather was known as Numitor, and he was king of Alba Longa, which was an influential settlement nestled in the Alban Hills of central Italy. Ancient historians traced its foundation to none other than one of Aeneas’ descendants. However, sometime after Numitor ascended to the throne, his jealous brother Amulius conspired to overthrow Numitor’s rule, and somehow, he succeeded in his endeavors and became Alba Longa’s king. In order to further secure his grasp on power, Amulius treacherously ordered the murder of Numitor’s son, Aegestus, and forced Numitor’s daughter, Rhea Silvia, to become a priestess to Vesta who was the goddess of the hearth. Since such priestesses were required to be chaste during their tenure under the pain of death, Amulius assumed that Rhea would not mother any potential rivals to the throne. But as the Romulus tale goes, Mars ravaged her one day. This led to her pregnancy, and she later gave birth to twins: Romulus and Remus.

Even though Rhea attempted to conceal the truth, Amulius learned of Rhea’s pregnancy, and shortly after Romulus and Remus’ births, the rogue, tyrannical king of Alba Longa condemned the infants to death by drowning. Yet by a dispensation of fate, they survived. Initially, a wolf named Lupa allegedly protected them until a shepherd called Faustulus rescued the boys and raised them as his own children. Around 18 years or so after their abandonment, Romulus and Remus returned to Alba Longa, led an armed revolt, and freed the Alba Longans from the despot's control, killing Amulius and placing the gentle Numitor back on the throne.

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#History #AlbaLonga #Amulius #Augustus #WHE #[#]

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