#don’t worry about the bomb we got time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gothcsz · 2 months ago

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Summary: Another chaotic shoot... but at least it's in Malibu?

Tags: more plot keeps sneaking into the porn, angst, frankie has entered the villa, jealous!javi, reader stands on business, it's a porn set other people are also fucking, masturbation on camera (m), dirty talk, lots of cursing (f bombs my beloved), an attempt at a blowjob, javier can't get it up, a dash of misogyny, author projects her ooc thoughts about problematic age gaps in the porn industry, no use of y/n, reader has a degree in film production, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: me nervous that part 3 isn't going to live up to the hype? more likely than you think! 🙂‍↕️ this fic is taking on a brain of its own and i'm just along for the ride, baby! for my just the tip stans— i'm sorry but i'm going to have to edge you until part 4 *crowd boos and i'm dragged off stage* i was going to wait to post this, but i really wanted to get it out because i'm so damn proud of it lowkey, lol, so i hope you all like it 🖤 let a bitch know what ya think! also, shoutout to my pookie @persephone-girl for reading over this 💋 love u mamas

Your phone’s shrill ring pierces through the haze of sleep, and you groan in frustration, burying your face deeper into the pillow.

The comforter is pulled tight over your head, shielding you from the annoyingly bright sunlight filtering through your window. Your hand shoots out, fumbling blindly across the bedside table until your fingers finally close around the receiver.

“What?” you grumble, voice thick with sleep and muffled beneath your sheets.

“There she is! My beautiful, talented camerawoman. Have I ever told you how much I appreciate what you do?” Robbie’s overly cheerful voice blares through the phone, so you pull it back from your ear slightly, wincing.

“Why are you calling me this early in the morning?” you snap, already regretting picking up.

“Early? It’s almost noon—”

“What do you want, Robbie?” You cut him off, not in the mood for small talk, especially since last night’s bar shift ran past four in the morning. You were hoping to sleep through most of the day, recovering in your bed with no interruptions. Clearly, that plan has gone out the window.

“Look, I’ve got a big shoot happening in Malibu today and I’m short-staffed. I could really use your magic touch behind the camera.”

“No.”

“C’mon,” he drags the word out, “I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for working on your day off.”

You rub your eyes, the remnants of sleep still clinging to you. “How much?”

He tosses out a number, and despite your best effort to remain indifferent, your eyes widen. Damn. That’s more than decent money.

“Malibu’s all the way across town,” you point out, “I won’t make it there in time if I take the bus. And a taxi? That’ll cost me a fortune.”

“Don’t worry about that. Your ride’s outside waiting for you.”

You blink, confused, and get out of bed, dragging the corded phone with you as you move toward the bay window. You pull the curtain back just enough to peer down at the busy street below.

Sure enough, Steve is there, leaning casually against his Jeep with sunglasses on, a cigarette between his lips. The second he spots you looking down, he grins like the cheshire cat and waves.

“Seriously?” you mutter to Robbie, flipping Steve off with a half-hearted smile. “And what if I’d said no?”

“We both know you wouldn’t have.”

After a few more quick exchanges, you hang up, glancing once more at your ride through the window before turning to rush and get yourself ready for the day ahead.

Truth be told, you’re still not fully awake, your body moving on autopilot as you shuffle through your morning (midday) routine.

It’s been ages since you’ve been to the beach— especially one as nice as Malibu’s. The thought of it softens the blow of losing your rest day. You tell yourself you’ll make the best of it, turning this unexpected workday into something that benefits you, too.

After shooting wraps, you’ll indulge in a quiet evening by the shore, sinking your toes into the warm sand with a good book in hand. No rush to head back. This time, you’ll gladly take a taxi if it means getting some peace seaside.

With that plan in mind, you dress for the day accordingly. Your halter-style bathing suit doubles as a cute top, the color complimenting your skin, while your favorite denim shorts sit comfortably over your bikini bottoms.

You pack a few essentials into your beach bag and make sure to grab your camera bag as well. Once you’ve double-checked that everything’s packed, you make your way downstairs, feeling a bit more awake now.

Steve catches sight of you approaching and flashes a dramatic grin, straightening up like he’s about to chauffeur royalty.

“Your chariot awaits,” he announces with an exaggerated flourish, swinging the passenger door open.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the bemused laugh that escapes your lips. “God, you’re ridiculous,” you mutter, shaking your head as you climb into the seat, tossing your beach bag onto the floor.

He shuts the door behind you with a smirk. “Ridiculous? I prefer charmingly dedicated to my craft.” He hops into the driver’s side, flicking the cigarette away before starting the car.

You snort at his self-satisfaction, leaning back against the seat and putting on the seatbelt.

“Malibu, huh? How the fuck did he manage to swing that?”

He chuckles, one hand lazily draped over the wheel, the other tapping out a rhythm on his knee. “He didn’t tell me much either— just asked me to stop by and pick you up on my way.”

That makes sense. Robbie’s always been a bit scatterbrained, occasionally running around like he’s managing a multi-million-dollar empire when, in reality, he’s holding it together with duct tape and half-assed enthusiasm.

The drive is surprisingly fun, Steve’s constant jokes keeping your spirits high. He always manages to make you laugh, which is why you tolerate his quirks.

“I’m pretty sure Javi’s going to be there,” he says, almost too nonchalantly, meaning he’s in the mood to be messy.

You keep your gaze focused on the coastline, watching as palm trees blur past. The wind from the open windows has you squinting momentarily, but it can’t cool the sudden heat spreading through your body.

“It’s not going to be weird seeing him, right?” He presses and you finally turn to face him, moving your sunglasses to the top of your head.

“Why would it be weird?” you ask, the challenge clear in your voice.

He shoots you a look, brows raised and lips quirked in that irritating way of his. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe ‘cause of the whole flirtin’ with you during the middle of a scene thing? Or, y’know, the elevator incident… which, by the way, what the fuck even happened there?” He glances at you, curiosity practically oozing out of him.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, but you can’t stop the way your thighs rub together at the memory.

Javier’s mouth... God. “None of your damn business.”

“Don’t tell me you fucked him.”

You laugh, loudly, the sound bordering on forced. “Absolutely not.”

He shoots you that okay, sure look, and you groan internally.

Steve’s like a dog with a bone when he gets curious, and you know he’s not going to let this go until you give him something. You sigh, deciding to indulge him— partially.

“He was being an asshole,” you start, and he immediately interjects with, “Nothing new there,” causing both of you to share a laugh at Javier’s expense.

You shake your head, returning your sunglasses to the bridge of your nose. “No, seriously. He was pushing my buttons, being his usual peacock self. I don’t even know how it escalated, but one moment we’re arguing, and the next... he’s got his tongue in my pussy.”

Steve chokes on his own spit at your bluntness. He’s heard and seen much worse on set, yet your confession has him all tripped up.

“So, you did fuck him?”

You roll your eyes again, shifting in your seat as the horny flashbacks hit you all at once— Javier’s lips wrapped around your clit, the perfect rhythm of his tongue, his fingers.

You shove those thoughts away, focusing on the road ahead, annoyed at both Javier and Steve now. “Getting head isn’t fucking. It’s, like, third base. And anyway, I made it clear— that’s all he was getting from me. I’m not about to waste my time rolling around in bed with him.”

He gives you a look— a knowing look— and you scoff, shaking your head. “What now?”

“Nothing. You’re just the first person I’ve heard say that about him.”

“Someone’s gotta humble his ass,” you mutter, though the words feel heavier than they should. You try to act like you’ve put Javier out of your mind, like that moment was nothing but a blip in your life, but deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

You’ve never met anyone like him, and the fact that he can elicit such reactions from you pisses you off so bad.

As the coastline stretches out in front of you, Malibu drawing closer with every mile, you can’t help but wonder if seeing Javier today will be as easy as you’re pretending it will be.

The mansion is far more extravagant than anything you could have imagined. Its grand facade, with towering columns and ivy crawling up the sides, feels like something out of a movie set, and for a second, you almost forget why you’re here.

But then, as soon as you step past the threshold, you hear it— echoing from deep within the house are the unmistakable sounds of exaggerated moans, grunts, and the rhythmic thump of bodies meeting.

You adjust the strap of your camera bag on your shoulder, your beach bag abandoned in Steve’s car. As you step further into the foyer, Robbie appears, that infamous smirk plastered on his face.

“Long way from home, aren’t you, Dorothy?” he jokes, taking in your wide-eyed amusement as you scan the expensive decor— the towering glass chandelier overhead, the marble floors gleaming beneath your feet, the floor-to-ceiling windows.

You can’t help but be a little impressed.

But of course, he’s there to give you shit about it. You turn your wide-eyed gaze into a glare, bringing your attention to him. “So funny. You should quit your current sleazy day job and take up another sleazy one— stand up,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He just grins, unbothered by your sharp tone. “You’re always a joy to work with. No wonder Javi asked for you specifically.”

Your entire demeanor shifts viscerally and you curse yourself for it mentally, caught completely off guard. “Wait, what? Javier asked for me?”

He shrugs, indifferent to your confusion. “Yeah. He’s set for a solo shoot upstairs in one of the bathrooms before he’s on with...” He snaps his fingers, trying to remember. “...Mariella. Real pretty girl, it’s her first on-camera gig today.”

The world blurs a little as your mind zeroes in on that one bit of information: Javier asked for you. And not just for any shoot— a solo one. You blink, shaking your head to clear the fog. “I’m sorry, can we go back to the part where I was summoned here by someone who isn’t my boss?”

“Oh yeah, he made a real fuss about it. Sent away the other guy we had lined up for the shoot. Told me he wouldn’t do it unless you were behind the camera. Even offered to pay out of his own pocket just to get you here. It’s the only reason we’re paying you as much as I promised over the phone.”

Your stomach twists and you can feel your face settling into a deep frown, the kind that pulls some of your mood down with it. So that’s why he dangled such a big paycheck in front of you this morning.

After the elevator incident (as Steve has so eloquently named it), after the intense heat of his mouth on you, the way he had you— he said he’d leave you alone. He was supposed to respect the boundaries you set, but here he is, yanking you back into his orbit.

You can already picture him upstairs, lounging in one of those stupidly lavish bathrooms, probably smirking that damn smirk of his, waiting for you.

You try to squash down the way your pulse quickens at the thought, the lingering memory of his fingers digging into your hips, his tongue working between your thighs, is beckoning you into temptation again.

“Fucking great,” you mutter, more to yourself than your boss. You have half a mind to storm up those stairs, find the pornstar, and give him a piece of your mind before marching right back out to spend your day on the beach— free of drama and distractions and him.

But the reality is, you’re being paid nearly three times what you’d normally make on a gig like this. It’s enough to drown out the temptation to walk away, however satisfying that would be.

You’re an adult. You’ve dealt with worse. You can handle this.

Robbie gives you a sidelong glance, clearly sensing your hesitation. “You’re not backing out, are you?”

With a sigh, you force a smile and shake your head. “As good as it’d feel to leave, no, I’m not. I’ll be up in a sec.”

Relief flashes across his face, and he gives you a few pointers before rushing off into this maze of a house.

You linger for a second longer, taking a deep breath to shake off the nerves. Come on. Get it together. After a final mental pep talk, you head toward the grand staircase that winds up to the second floor.

The sight that greets you at the top of the stairs stops you in your tracks: Lexxie is splayed out on her back atop some console table, currently getting the life fucked out of her. The visual is chaotic but nothing new. You’ve seen it a hundred times before.

A guy with a scruffy beard and a beat-up baseball cap stands behind the camera, looking more bored than impressed, barely watching as the two stars go at it.

You lean against the nearby railing, your voice cutting through their heavy breaths and grunts. “Guess your marriage to Javier didn’t last very long,” you tease from off camera, referencing the honeymoon shoot.

The star’s eyes snap open at the sound of your voice, and she flashes you a playful, almost sweet smile in between heavy breaths. “Kinda regretting stepping out on him—oh, fuck.” Her snappy comeback dissolves into a breathy moan as the guy currently rearranging her on the table pushes her legs up to her chest, hitting just the right spot.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your shot,” you say, throwing a glance at the cameraman, knowing how annoying it can be when someone messes with your focus.

He waves it off with a lazy shrug. “It’s not ruined. Honestly, I would’ve quit filming ten minutes ago. It’s starting to drag. I’m impressed they’re still going.”

You let out a small laugh, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, they’ve got stamina like you wouldn’t believe. Makes me feel lazy in bed sometimes, but then I remember how unrealistic this shit actually is.”

He chuckles, scratching at his jaw. “Should make it an Olympic sport. Bet we’d bring home gold.”

“Pretty sure that already exists and it happens in the Olympic Village.” You smirk, finally peeling your eyes away from the couple to look at him properly.

He’s cute in that disheveled, stray-dog kind of way. His curls poke out from under a worn baseball cap, his beard patchy, and his clothes rumpled, like he just rolled out of bed and threw on the first thing he could find. He fits in perfectly with the kind of guys you’d expect on a porn crew.

Earning a genuine laugh from him, he extends a hand. “I’m Frankie.”

You shake it, offering your name in return. “I’m also part of the crew. About to go shoot a scene in the master bathroom.” You explain, noticing how his grip lingers just a little, his smile playful and easy. You feel a bit of warmth rush to your cheeks, and he’s about to say something when—

“Oh fuck, I’m about to cum!” Lexxie’s voice is piercing, loud and breathless, pulling your attention back to the scene.

You shake your head, stifling a laugh. “Well, that’s my cue,” you mutter, stepping out before you get too caught up flirting with him.

“Nice meeting you,” he says before dismounting the camera, moving in closer to capture the so-called money shot.

Cute. Too cute. It’s almost enough to make you forget about the man you’re about to see.

You push open the door to the room Javier’s in, and the sight of him has you doing a double take.

He’s standing in the middle of the room with nothing but a white towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, his defined Adonis belt drawing your eyes in a way you hate to admit.

His toned, brown torso glistens with the thinnest layer of sweat, the sunlight pouring into the room making him look like he’s glowing.

You need to toughen up, and in order to do so, you have to bitch at him. It’s the only way to keep that lustful cavewoman instinct away.

“You’re a piece of work,” is what you settle on, making sure to let your tone really punctuate how annoyed you are by the stunt he pulled today.

The second his eyes lock onto yours, amusement flickers behind them, as if he’s been waiting for this confrontation.

He quirks a brow, lips curving into a lazy smile. “¿De que hablas nena—?”

“What happened to ‘if you don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave you alone’? Was that something you said just to lower my guard? To get me to give you what you want?” You cut him off, keeping your distance even as you notice him inching closer.

Your eyes are daggers as they bore into him, and for a brief second, you hope he feels at least some of the fire burning in your chest. But if he’s affected, he doesn’t show it. He is frustratingly calm, like he’s above it all.

“You gave me no indication that you didn’t want me anymore.” His voice is casual, almost patronizing.

You groan as you throw your hands up in exasperation. “I literally said, ‘Hope you got your fix because it’s never happening again.’ What the fuck else do I have to say or do to get you off my back?”

Silence settles between you two as you stand there staring each other down. He’s unreadable, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin tingle.

“Well?” you demand, impatient.

“In my defense— it didn’t sound very convincing.” You stare at him incredulously before turning on your heel. Hell no. He can keep his money and his bullshit. You’re not doing this.

But just as your fingers graze the doorknob, his voice sharpens with a hint of panic, calling your name.

“Wait, look,” he starts, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not trying to start anything. I just thought—” he pauses, searching for the right words. “I’d feel more comfortable if you were behind the camera during this shoot. Not the other guy Robbie brought in.”

Frankie? He seems so harmless, and besides, Javier’s never had an issue with whoever’s in the room when he’s filming, so why is it a problem now?

However, his tone does sound sincere. You turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes and refusing to let your guard down. “This better not be another one of your tricks, Javier. If you’re doing this to try and get into my pants—”

He almost grins, but catches himself just in time, clearly biting back a remark. You can see it in the way his mouth twitches, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. Already have, his brown eyes seem to say. But he holds his tongue, offering a faint nod instead.

“I promise. No tricks. Just a professional shoot. That’s it.”

You give him one last warning glance before sighing. “Fine. But I’m telling you, Javier—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupts, holding up his hands. “I get it and please stop calling me Javier.”

You arch a brow. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but everyone calls me Javi.”

Ugh, whatever. “Okay, fine, Javi. Just show me where I’m supposed to set up.”

He bites back another grin and motions you with a flick of his head, and with the weird tension simmering, you follow him toward the ensuite bathroom. The door creaks open, revealing an elaborate setup, and you pause in the doorway, eyes widening.

It’s surprisingly... beautiful.

In front of a massive window that overlooks the sprawling blue ocean outside, there’s a porcelain clawfoot bathtub filled with what looks like a milk bath. Various colored flower petals float delicately on the surface, scattered in an almost artful arrangement.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Well, damn. This actually looks nice.” This bathroom is bigger than your entire apartment.

Javier notices your reaction and leans against the doorframe to the connecting walk in closet, arms crossed over his bare chest, a smirk playing on his lips. “Catering to the female gaze,” he says with a cocky shrug, “At least, that’s what my agent told me. Seems like I’m very popular among the ladies.”

The way he says it makes you want to smack him upside the head. He’s pushing your buttons again in the most subtle way, and you hate how good he is at it.

“Cute,” you reply dryly, walking past him to set your camera bag down on the large counter.

As you begin to unpack and set up, you can feel his eyes on you, watching your every move, lingering on the exposed skin of your back then dripping down to your legs.

It kind of feels good to have him ogling you like this. The whole look but don’t touch thing is really doing it for you, more than you’d care to admit. There’s a certain power in keeping him wanting, yet also forcing the distance.

“It’s not just about the ladies, you know. I actually want this to be good. I trust you to make it look that way.”

You glance over at him. His playful arrogance has slightly faded, shaded in by the genuine want to make this feel more than just some raunchy scene.

“I’m not a director, I just film it,” you remind him, adjusting the camera lens as you try to play it off. “So just do whatever you think is right. Robbie gave me some pointers, but it wasn’t much.”

“Still,” he presses, “there’s some finesse to what you do.”

At least he’s aware of that. “Let’s just get this over with,” you say, deflecting the compliment.

You finish setting up the camera, adjusting the tripod to get the perfect angle. It’s important to capture the full picturesque scene to begin with— the soft light spilling in through the window, the sparkling blue ocean in the background.

You clear your throat, “Okay, I’m all set for whenever you’re ready.”

Javier moves casually as he unwraps the white towel from around his waist. His cock, already half-hard, demands your attention, but you force yourself to look away. You rub your lips together then lick at them unconsciously, trying to focus on anything other than his naked body.

“Got plans after this?” he asks as though he’s asking you about the weather.

You blink at the normalcy of the question “Just going to hang out by the beach,” you reply plainly, trying to keep your focus on the camera and not on his crotch.

It almost feels strange talking to him like this, without the usual teasing or sexual tension-laden bickering.

“Sounds fun,” he says as he steps into the tub, the water sloshing around him. “Real nice out here. The weather is perfect for it today.”

You watch as he settles in, the milky water rising around his body, and for a moment, you’re completely mesmerized.

The scene in front of you looks like something out of a romantic painting, and it hits you how undeniably beautiful he looks. His skin, a warm golden brown, contrasts perfectly with the creamy white of the bath, and the colorful flower petals floating on the surface make the whole thing look like a dream.

He leans back, the water just kissing his chest, and you catch yourself imagining what a soft, hazy vignette filter would do to the shot, how it would add an enchanting glow to an already intimate scene.

You shake your head slightly, snapping yourself out of the reverie. You’re supposed to be filming him jerking off, not admiring the aesthetics like this is some fine art shoot. But fuck, it’s hard to separate the two when the visuals are this damn good.

Javier, of course, senses your brief distraction. He watches you, eyes thoughtful as he stretches out, letting the water ripple around him. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a slight smirk playing on his lips, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand, despite the heat pooling between your thighs. “Is there a clear direction for this scene, or are you just improvising?”

“I’m just winging it,” his voice is a rich, velvet drawl, a little rough from all the smoking he does. “No dirty talk. They want my natural noises to be the main focus… amongst other things.” He cocks his head to the side, one arm coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

Heat blooms low in your belly, shooting straight to your cunt at the sight. The way his bicep flexes, the muscles shifting smoothly beneath that taut, sun-kissed skin, showcasing just how defined he is while still looking so maddeningly soft.

Calm down, girl, you silently reprimand your pussy. She’s fucking purring right now.

You clear your throat and give him a nod, signaling him to begin. Stepping behind the camera, you focus through the lens, grateful for the distance.

Javier moves slowly. His head tips back against the edge of the tub, eyes falling closed, the soft curve of his lashes fanning out like shadows against his skin. One hand trails down, lingering at the hollow of his collarbones. The movements are unhurried, almost reverent, as though he’s savoring the feel of his own skin.

The intimate build-up draws you in, despite your best efforts to remain detached.

You unmount the camera from its tripod after a few moments, stepping closer to him, framing the shot tight around his chest, the slow glide of his hand along his torso. You can’t help but notice the pounding of your heart, each beat mirroring the steady, throbbing pulse at your clit.

The sight of him— relaxed, fully in his element, bathed in the soft glow of light— stirs that fucking feeling deep within you.

It’s not just desire, though that’s certainly there. It’s the maddening awareness of how sensual, how magnetic this man is. And even though you try to tell yourself you’d feel the same about any other attractive man in his place, you know that’d be a damn lie.

Javier’s hand moves lower, ghosting over the ridges of his soft stomach. His other hand trails slowly through the water, sending gentle ripples through the milky bath. You swallow hard and focus the lens on his face— the slight parting of his pouty pink lips beneath his trimmed mustache that you just now realize has a small patch right above his cupid’s bow.

Even his imperfections are attractive.

The flushed skin of his cock makes an appearance, his thick, swollen head breaking the surface of the water with each subtle movement, teasing you and the camera. The way it peeks through, the slick tip glistening in the milky bath, almost feels like a taunt— winking at you.

Doing as you’re supposed to, you adjust the lens to zoom in on the way his cock flirts with the surface.

If you were anyone else, one of his usual co-stars maybe, you’d lean down and give it a few kitten licks. You’d tease the sensitive crown with your tongue, circling the tip before letting it slide past your lips— just enough to drive him wild.

Your tongue twitches at the thought.

A soft groan escapes his lips as he gets closer to where he’s aching to touch. It’s as if he can read your mind, as if he knows you’re imagining the feel of his cock in your mouth, the taste of his salty skin, the way he’d twitch against your tongue as you tease him until he begs for more.

Maybe he’s picturing your lips wrapped around him, too.

You bite down on your lower lip, forcing yourself to stay quiet, to stay focused, even though your body is betraying you. The mess in your panties, the way your nipples stiffen beneath your bathing suit top— everything about this moment is dangerous.

Then finally, his fist wraps around his cock, a soft slosh of water accompanying the motion. The eroticism of the scene— paired with the proximity, the memory of those hands on you— ignites that annoying need deep inside.

He strokes himself slowly, eyes still closed as though lost in the pleasure of it all. You focus the camera on his hand, on the way it moves with purpose, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock, slick with precum.

His groans start to fill the air, and your own body reacts, hips shifting slightly as you try to ignore pressure at your cunt.

“Still with me?” His voice cuts through the silence, raspy and knowing, eyes fluttering open to look at you.

Oh. Have they always been this golden?

“Yeah,” you’re proud of yourself for keeping your voice steady.

Javier’s body is pure, unfiltered sin in motion. As you move around the bathtub to capture every angle, you can’t help but admire him. His muscles shift with every slow pump of his hand, the sinewy lines of his arms and torso rippling just beneath the milky water.

His stomach contracts with each exhale, drawing your gaze lower to the faint trail of hair leading down to his cock, which you catch glimpses of when his hips buck up inadvertently.

His breathing grows heavier, his pouty bottom lip caught between his teeth, brows furrowing in concentration as his pleasure builds. It’s mesmerizing, the way his face contorts, his expressions almost too intimate, too personal for the lens. But you can’t tear your eyes— or the camera— away.

His fist moves with such confidence, touching himself with an unhurried rhythm that only a man used to his own pleasure can manage. Every time his thumb glides over the tip of his cock, a heavier grunt rumbles in his throat and it’s so hot.

You’re too focused on capturing every inch of him that it almost catches you off guard when he begins to speak.

“Wish it was your pretty hand around me right now, baby.” His voice is husky, laced with want, and the words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You blink rapidly, heart stalling in your chest as the camera wavers slightly in your hands. “Javier,” you sigh, his name slipping from your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Fuck, I know, but shit—” His words are more ragged now, spoken between heavy breaths. “You’re all I can think about still. You stay in my mind, muñeca. Can’t get you out.”

Even though every rational part of you knows you should stop him, should leave or at least say something to shut him up, you don’t.

You don’t run, you don’t protest. You just... let it happen.

“Talk to me, please.”

“I-I—” The words get stuck in your throat, “I can’t. I’ll ruin the shoot.” Why is that your priority right now?

“You won’t.”

The way he says it chips at the walls you've built around yourself.

“What do I even say?”

“Anything,” there he goes again, using that tone that makes him sound like he’s begging.

So, you say what you’ve been thinking of since he got into this damn tub. “Your cock is so pretty, Javi.” You purr, throwing all caution to the wind, lying to yourself that this means nothing.

The effect is immediate. He groans, a deep sound from his chest, and his hand moves faster over his shaft, the slickness of the water amplifying the movement. “Fuck,” he says, his breathing now erratic, “say it again.”

Your gaze flicks down and it’s mesmerizing watching the way his body responds to his own touch, but it’s the fact that he’s unraveling in front of you that leaves your mouth dry.

“Such a pretty cock, Javi,” you repeat, voice steadier this time, growing bolder with each passing second. Every flex and contraction of his body feeds the arousal pulsing in you. “I bet it would feel perfect sliding down my throat, hitting the back of it until I’m choking on you.”

All those hours spent listening to cheesy porn dialogue are finally paying off.

His head falls back, exposing the strong column of his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. A guttural groan escapes him as the image of what you just said sets in. His other hand moves down to cup his heavy, swollen balls, the water around him rocking more violently now as he starts to lose himself in the fantasy.

“Shit… I’m close,” he growls, voice breaking with need, the words barely coherent. “Keep talking to me, fuck…”

You lean in slightly, the camera momentarily forgotten. “You want to come for me?” Your whisper is dripping with lust, the idea of him falling apart because of you making your pussy ache. “You want to make a mess? Pretend I’m kneeling right here, my mouth open and waiting for you to fill it, warm and wet just for you?”

You’ve seen him come so many times, watched him fill too many cunts with his spend and paint different parts of their pretty bodies— but none of it compares to the sight before you.

The way his body jerks in response tells you everything you need to know. His grip tightens on the edge of the tub, knuckles going white as he pumps faster, rougher, pushing himself toward the brink. His hips start lifting out of the water with every thrust into his own hand, chasing that final release.

“Fuck, yes…,” he groans, voice strangled, barely holding it together. His eyes squeeze shut, every muscle in his body tensing, going rigid as he falls over the edge.

His bilingual expletives cut off into a long, drawn-out moan as his cock twitches, thick ropes of cum spilling out in messy spurts, splattering against his fist, swirling into the milky bathwater. The petals float lazily across the surface, some clinging to his skin, as the evidence of his release drifts around him.

You stand there, heart pounding, frozen as your brain tries to catch up with your pussy.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, fumbling with the camera as you stop the recording. You quickly move to pack everything up and try your damndest not to look at him.

“Wait, don’t—” Javier’s voice is still hoarse, but there’s a touch of urgency to it now, breaking through the post-orgasm haze. You hear the water sloshing violently behind you as he moves, and you know he’s getting out of the tub. “Just… hang on.”

“No. I-I gotta go,” you stammer, your hands frantically packing up the camera, the lens cap slipping through your fingers. You try to grab it, but your nerves are shot and it fumbles. Thankfully, it doesn’t take damage. You’d hate to hear Robbie bitch at you for breaking the brand-new camera.

Just get out of here is the only thought running through your mind. Every time you’re around him lately, you end up a confused, horny, exasperated mess, and you can’t handle it anymore.

“Hey—wait!” Javier slips as he tries to step out of the tub, nearly falling as he reaches for you, his wet feet squeaking against the floor. You turn just in time to see him catch himself, water dripping from his body, his skin still flushed from what just happened.

“What the hell?” You shoot him a look, “You’re gonna break your neck trying to stop me from leaving—”

“I wasn’t—fuck, just let me talk for a second.” He runs a hand through his soaked hair, water dripping down his neck, over the curve of his shoulders, and you hate how even now, you’re distracted by how good he looks. He reaches for the towel and loosely wraps it around his waist. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Neither did I,” you snap, stuffing your gear into your bag, not caring how haphazardly it’s packed. “This— this isn’t what I signed up for. I’m here to work, remember? Not… whatever the fuck that was.”

He steps closer, reaching for your arm, but you yank it away before he can touch you. The last thing you need is his hands on you right now, reminding you of everything you shouldn’t want.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice softens, but there’s a frustration beneath it, like he’s grappling with the same confusion you are. “I wasn’t trying to mess with you, okay? I just… I don’t know what the hell is happening between us either.”

You stop, finally meeting his gaze. There’s something in his eyes that pulls at the part of you that’s freakishly tethered to him, but you can’t let that get to you now. Not when everything feels so damn complicated.

“Javier, this—” You struggle for words, shaking your head. “This can’t keep happening. I can’t—” You pause, your breath catching. I can’t have you. “I don’t want you,” you correct yourself.

His jaw clenches, muscles ticking under the strain. “Stop bullshitting me,” he growls, eyes narrowing.

“I’m not,” you shoot back, but it comes out too quickly, too rehearsed.

“You’re lying through your fuckin’ teeth, and it’s pathetic. What is so wrong with giving me a chance?” He keeps circling back to this— chances.

One thing about him, he knows how to trigger a fucking migraine.

“Everything!” The word bursts out of you like a confession. “Everything about this is wrong. It’s why I’ve been trying to stay away since day one, but you’re so— ugh!” You throw your hands up, exasperated, the bathroom suddenly feeling too small and claustrophobic. He’s got you spinning in circles, tying you up in knots, and you can’t think straight around him.

Without a second thought, you turn to leave, your feet moving as if you’re fucking levitating. So what if you’ve made a habit of running away from him? You don’t owe him shit.

“Nena—” Desperation laces his voice and that stupid nickname makes your skin curl. “I don’t want you to leave like this.”

“Well, too bad,” you snap over your shoulder. “I’m leaving so you can’t sweet-talk me into anything.” The slam of the door echoes behind you, a final punctuation to your statement.

As you step out into the hallway, the distant sounds of people fucking filter through the air, kind of grounding you back to the real world.

You can’t keep working with him, not if every interaction is going to end like this. You make a mental note to talk to Robbie after today’s shoot. No more Peña.

The day drags on, the tension from earlier still lingering, but now, sitting outside on the shaded patio, you feel a small reprieve.

A half-eaten sandwich rests before you on the table, your eyes lazily tracing the lines of the zero-edge pool that blends into the horizon. The soft rustle of palm trees swaying in the gentle breeze lulls you into a sense of temporary peace. You glance around, taking in the pristine luxury surrounding you. Rich people really have it made, you think, marveling at the extravagance of someone else’s life.

The spat with Javier lingers but you’ve done your best to ignore it by keeping busy. The other shoots happening in the house have kept you distracted, but you know what’s coming: the last scene of the day— with him— and the new girl, Mariella. A small sigh escapes your lips as you sink deeper into the patio chair, absolutely dreading it.

Your tranquility is shattered when you feel a presence nearby. Already anticipating another confrontation with Javier, you steel yourself and don’t even bother looking up before snapping, “Oh my god, can you just leave me alone—”

The words get jammed in your throat as your eyes land on Frankie, not Javier. He stands there, looking taken aback, a paper bag in one hand and an awkward smile tugging at his lips. You instantly feel like a bitch.

“Shit— sorry,” you stammer, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I thought you were someone else.”

Frankie lets out a small chuckle, brown eyes softening as he rubs the back of his neck. “No worries, I can leave if you want—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, waving him off. “Please, stay. I didn’t mean to be snappy.”

He hesitates for a moment before motioning to the empty chair across from you. “Mind if I sit?”

You shake your head, and he lowers himself into the seat, setting his lunch down. The small talk starts easily, flowing naturally as you both munch on your food. He tells you about his daughter, a proud smile on his face as he recounts how she’s the light of his life. Then he goes on about how his friends call him Catfish because of some dumb inside joke, and also the fact that he’s a retired pilot. It somehow doesn’t surprise you— the career fits him.

“How do you go from flying helicopters to shooting porn?” you ask, the question half serious, half teasing as you lean back in your chair, eyes hidden behind your sunglasses.

Frankie raises an eyebrow and smirks, clearly amused. “Shit happens,” he says with a shrug. “How do you go from having a film production degree to spending your days staring at tits and ass?”

A wry smile tugs at your lips. You tilt your head, pausing for effect. “... Shit happens,” you echo, the irony not lost on either of you.

He snorts, taking a slow sip of his water, the sound of his laughter rolling into the lazy afternoon air. You can’t help but steal a glance from behind your shades, your gaze wandering over his rugged features.

There’s something about the way the sun hits him just right, casting a golden glow over his tanned skin. You swallow, feeling a subtle pull in your chest, an unexpected attraction. He’s not flashy, not like the other guys you’re used to working with— there’s an unspoken confidence in his ease, a solidness that makes you want to keep looking.

“So… who’d you think I was? Just then?” He asks, adjusting his cap.

You try not to let your small smile falter. “Oh, just an annoying coworker.”

“Ah, the kind who shows up at the worst times, huh?”

“Exactly,” you reply with a laugh, “You know the type.”

Frankie leans in just slightly, lowering his voice. “Well, I’m glad I’m not that guy.” There’s a flicker of flirtation in his tone, his eyes lingering a beat too long. “But if you ever need someone to… keep him under control, you just let me know. Got the remedy for that right here.”

He exaggeratedly flexes his biceps, and the snug t-shirt he’s wearing pulls taut around his arms, highlighting their impressive size.

You can’t help but admire the view— he’s really fun to look at, all charming smiles and playful confidence.

“I might just take you up on that, actually,” you reply, matching his energy with a teasing smile of your own. “I could definitely use someone who knows how to handle things.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his pink lips. “I’m more than equipped for that, trust me.”

For a second, it feels like the two of you are in your own little world— until, of course, it comes crashing down.

A voice cuts through the moment like a knife. “We’re ready for the last scene.”

You turn to see Javier standing there, arms crossed, jaw tight, his gaze flicking between you and Frankie. His entire posture screams annoyance.

“And who are you?” Frankie retorts, squinting one eye against the harsh sunlight, playful defiance dancing in his tone.

Javier doesn’t seem to like that response at all. “I’m ready to get this shit done with,” he snaps, and you narrow your eyes, practically shooting daggers at him.

Frankie clears his throat, sizing up Javier’s bristling energy. “Right.”

You catch the word presumido slip from his lips— the Spanish insult that has you exhaling a light laugh through your nose, because he’s so spot on and he doesn’t even know it.

Both of you stand, Frankie gathering the remnants of your lunch. “If you’d like some company down by the beach later, I’ll still be around,” he adds smoothly, sliding the proposition in there as casually as if he were just suggesting grabbing coffee. You almost don’t mind him crashing your solo date.

“I’ll let you know,” you reply, pushing your chair in. “It would be great to not have to take the taxi back, but I was willing to do it for a nice afternoon by the water.” You can feel Javier’s possessive stare burning into you from across the way.

Frankie, absolutely unbothered, leans in closer, a charming grin on his face. “Here’s my number if you need that ride.” A pen appears out of nowhere, and he scribbles down his digits on a clean corner of his napkin, tearing it off with an effortless confidence before handing it to you.

“Definitely,” you say with a flirty smile, tucking the napkin into your pocket, feeling a thrill against the scowling presence of the spectator watching from the sliding glass door

Frankie branches off to use the restroom and you push past Javier, no intention of speaking to him until—

“If you spent less time flirting with the crew and more time focusing on your job, we’d be finished by now.”

You can practically taste his jealousy.

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him, your patience running thin. “Really, Javi? You’re jealous of Frankie? That’s what this is about? Did our last conversation not put shit in perspective for you?”

He steps closer, eyes hard, voice low. “Jealous? Of him?” He scoffs, but the tension in his jaw betrays him. “I just don’t appreciate having to wait because you’re too busy cozying up to someone else. Especially someone who looks like they just got picked up off the side of the road.”

“And you wonder why I don’t like you.” Is all you can say, brushing past him yet again, his presence looming heavy as you head toward the living room where the last scene is set to be shot.

The moment Robbie goes on with his usual pre-shoot rundown, your attention shifts to the newbie Mariella immediately, drowning out his usual spiel.

The girl— and she is a girl, no matter what the paperwork says— looks painfully young. Her cropped tee hugging her braless chest, barely keeping her breasts from spilling out, and those flimsy pajama shorts riding high on her thighs. It’s the kind of outfit that makes you uneasy— one you’ve seen too many times in this industry, designed to play into the fantasies of men who want their women to look barely legal.

You bite the inside of your cheek, the sour taste of frustration building in the back of your throat. This is the part of the job that gnaws at you— the undercurrent of exploitation that no one acknowledges.

You’re not naive, you know exactly what sells in porn. You know what these people want to watch, what they get off on. The younger, the better.

Still, it doesn’t make it any easier to stomach when you’re standing on set, watching it play out in real time.

Just as Mariella positions herself, preparing for the camera to roll, you can’t stop yourself. The words come out before you can think to censor them. “How old are you?”

Suddenly, everyone’s attention shifts to you. Robbie. Steve. Frankie. Even Javier, who’s lounging in the corner, waiting for his moment to shine. They all freeze, the casual banter dying off as your question lingers in the air. Mariella blinks, looking around as if unsure who you’re even talking to.

“I—I turned twenty last week.”

Your expression hardens, and the disapproval is written all over your face. “She’s not even old enough to drink, and you’re having her fuck Javier?” Your eyes cut to Robbie, who’s staring at you like you’ve just sprouted another head.

The silence stretches for a beat too long before he scoffs, shaking his head like you’re being ridiculous. “I don’t pay you to hear your opinions on shit,” he snaps, clearly irritated. “Just sit there and record the damn thing.”

Your eyes roll hard enough that it almost hurts. “You’re all a bunch of perverts.”

Poor Frankie catches a stray with that one. It’s like everything is grating on you in ways it usually doesn’t. Normally, you can shove it down and keep your head low because, at the end of the day, you’re just here for the paycheck.

“Perverts pay your bills, sweetheart,” Robbie throws back, all nonchalant. What’s worse is that he’s right.

Moments like this make you wonder how long you can keep doing this without losing a part of yourself in the process.

You look around at the other three men, none of them stepping up to say anything in your defense. Useless.

You shouldn’t be surprised, but it stings. Even Javier, usually quick with a sarcastic quip or biting comment, says nothing. He just sits there, stuffing out a cigarette that’s magically appeared between his lips.

It feels like a betrayal, even though you know better than to expect any different.

And Mariella? She’s clearly distracted, caught up in the magnetic pull Javier has over people. The way she’s looking at him with that starstruck, wide-eyed awe only makes it worse. You can see it in her expression, the way her gaze flickers over him like she’s already imagining how it’s going to feel when he fucks her. Thinking with her pussy instead of having common sense.

You recognize it because you were just in her exact position, drawn into that same orbit. You find empathy for her, but not the other motherfuckers.

The room descends into awkward silence, as if everyone’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you’re not in the mood for a full-blown argument, so you shut down, slumping into the chair behind your camera with your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

You know it’s only a matter of time before all these feelings you’ve been aggressively pushing down come back up and make you snap, but for now, you continue to force it all away.

You’re assigned to shoot the stoic, wide shots while Frankie’s in charge of the close-ups, and honestly? You’re relieved. The last thing you need is to be up close, watching this trash unfold.

The scene starts with the typical, raunchy premise: Dad pays babysitter with his cock! It explains Mariella’s barely-there outfit and the cluttered coffee table with school notebooks, setting the scene.

Then there’s Javier who looks the part too; dressed in dark blue slacks, a typical white collared shirt with a few buttons popped open to give that I’m stressed, come take care of me vibe.

He’s the picture of temptation, and it’s obvious Mariella’s already in the clouds.

The filming begins and they share that cheesy, erotic dialogue and lustful touches. You feel yourself sink further into the chair, silently counting down the minutes until you’re decompressing by the beach.

She sinks to her knees before him, her doe eyes looking up at him with that practiced innocence they all seem to perfect so quickly. She reaches for the buttons on his slacks, her delicate fingers fumbling just a little before she pulls down the zipper and tugs at the waistband. She nuzzles her face against his thigh, brushing her lips against his skin, and finally pulls out his cock. Even soft, it’s still an impressive size— but it’s definitely not how this was supposed to go.

“Well, are you going to suck it or just stare at it?” Javier snaps, his tone cutting through the air with an edge that feels too sharp, too real. It doesn’t sound like the crudeness that’s meant to spice up the scene.

His hand shoots out and tangles in her hair, yanking her closer. He’s rougher than usual, harsher, as he forces her mouth onto him.

She wraps her lips around his head, suckling softly at first, then taking him deeper into her mouth. She’s trying to do her job, playing the part of the eager babysitter, but something’s off.

Javier’s head tilts back, eyes squeezed shut, but it’s not the usual look of pleasure that crosses his face. It’s more like he’s concentrating, forcing himself to feel something that isn’t there.

You can’t help it— your eyes flick around the room, looking at the rest of the crew. No one seems to be noticing what you’re seeing, their eyes all honed in on the action in front of them.

But you’re catching the small details like you always do.

After a few more moments, it’s clear that it’s not happening. Javier lets out a frustrated curse, pulling out of her mouth with an audible, wet pop. “Fuck—just, give me a second,” he grumbles, stepping back. Mariella wipes the saliva from her lips with the back of her hand, looking up at him with a mix of confusion and hesitation.

You take that as your cue. Reaching over, you stop the recording, your finger hesitating on the button for only a moment before pressing it. Frankie does the same, Steve lowers his mic and pulls his headset off.

Javier runs a hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the floor, like he’s trying to avoid looking at anyone directly. “I just need a minute,” he says again, but it’s more to himself than to anyone else.

Your gaze lingers on him for a second longer than you intend, and your mind flashes back to earlier, to the way he was with you. The memory is sharp and clear, the contrast striking. He’d come undone for you without hesitation, without needing any coaxing or forcing. Just words. But now, with Mariella kneeling in front of him, offering herself up like a gift, he’s struggling.

“How long will this minute take? We gotta be outta here soon so get it up before I get one of these two to take your place.”

Javier scoffs, dismissive, “Tape wouldn’t fucking sell.”

“Well one featuring a soft dick won’t either,” comes the retort, and the two of them start their back-and-forth bickering.

You rub at your temples, trying to ease the pressure building behind your eyes. This has to be some weird-ass dream; it sure as hell feels like it. Maybe you’re still in bed, blissfully sleeping until three in the afternoon.

Javier storms off and Steve puts his equipment down. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Robbie just waves him away. “Take five,” he mutters to the rest of you, going in the opposite direction. This is such a mess, and poor Mariella remains on her knees, picking at her cuticles.

“Please get up and sit on the couch. You look pathetic,” you say to her, not cruelly but bluntly. It’s not her fault, but the sight of her there is making you itch. She complies like a chastised child.

Frankie drops down beside you, letting out a breath that mirrors your own. “These things usually go like this?” He takes his hat off, ruffling his hair before putting it back on.

“No,” shit has just been weird amongst this group for weeks now. “Burnout is inevitable, I guess.” You’re not about to sit there and shit-talk Javier, despite everything. You might have a mountain of complicated feelings when it comes to him, but you won’t kick him while he’s down.

Before Frankie can respond, Robbie comes barreling back into the room, his face flushed with anger. His eyes lock onto you, and you can see the accusation in them before he even opens his mouth.

“This is your fault,” he spits out, voice sharp, acidic. “All that shit you were talking earlier— now he’s fucking broken.”

You narrow your eyes, standing your ground. “Excuse me?” you snap, incredulous. “I was making a valid point. How the hell is it my fault that he grew a conscience?”

“Y’know,” he starts, his words dripping with the kind of vile, misogynistic shit that makes your blood boil. “You’d do me more good in front of the camera. Have somethin’ shoved up in there to keep you fucking quiet.”

The reaction is immediate. You shoot up from your seat so fast the chair scrapes against the floor, the sound sharp and angry, mirroring how you feel. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Frankie stands too, his face hardening as he takes a step in front of you, finally coming to your defense. “Watch it,” he warns, and it feels like the whole situation could explode into something much worse.

Robbie, of course, just sneers “What? You gonna defend her? She’s been a pain in my ass for weeks—”

“I’m done.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think them through, but they feel right.

You’re tired— so damn tired— of this whole mess. Of dealing with assholes like Robbie and Javier who think they can get away with saying whatever they want. “I quit.”

Your boss’s mouth opens as if he’s about to say something else, but you cut him off with a cutting glare. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you treat me like shit because your precious Javier can’t get his dick hard. Go fuck yourself, Robbie.”

You don’t wait for a response. You turn on your heel and head for the door, your heart pounding in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You’ll double up on shifts at the bar or go back to waiting tables like you did throughout college. Whatever keeps you away from this bullshit.

As you stride down the hallway toward the entrance, you pass Javier and Steve. Javier’s face is stormy, brows knitted together as if he’s still reeling from whatever heated discussion they just had.

The moment he spots you, his expression shifts. There’s a flicker of surprise, maybe even concern.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks.

You yank the heavy, probably expensive for no reason, front door open, the sound echoing through the hallway. “I just quit,” you snap, voice sharp as glass. “See you never.”

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @libre-sol . @cherrysugarx . @goodvibesonly421 .

finally started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out. muchas gracias mis putitas (gn) (endearingly) 🖤

#pedro pascal #javier pena smut #javier peña smut #javier pena fic #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfic #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña narcos #javier pena x you #javier peña x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic

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nereidprinc3ss · 1 year ago

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omg i'm obsessed with the idea of spencer and a university student and i looooved the one you wrote with reader struggling with finals (i relate so much </3) i'm not sure if you write requests or not (if not, then i'm sorry and please ignore this hahaha) but i would love to see more of their dynamic? maybe spencer for once arrives earlier from a case and goes to pick up reader from university as a surprise? i don't really know but i would love to see more 💗 thank you and i hope you have a good day!

AHHHH omg you have NO IDEA how excited I was to open my inbox and see a request!! i am absolutely obsessed w spencer x uni student too

i kind of took this and ran w it so its a little angsty and random LOLOL but here is (drumroll)

spencer picking up reader after you fail an exam (sorry lol) and you are NOT in a good mood but he loves you so its fine

Tears, partly from the bitter wind and partly from shame, blur your phone screen as you exit the lecture hall. Another missed call from Spencer. It’s the third one today—you've been ignoring them in an attempt to remain focused on the final that you just bombed. Part of you now wants to keep ignoring them out of sheer embarrassment. How can you admit to your super-genius boyfriend that you are a bona fide academic failure? Still, you don’t want him wondering about you while he should be working. Your numb fingers fumble with the phone as you try to call him back without running into anybody on your walk back to student housing.

It doesn’t reach the second ring before he’s picking up.

“Hey,” he sighs. “I was starting to worry.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy,” you exhale, cutting through some trees as you approach your building. “What’s up? How’s the case?”

“Well... that’s actually what I’ve been calling about. We wrapped up this morning.”

“What? But last night you said it would be at least three more days.”

“Rare instance of me being wrong, I guess.”

“So when are you flying back?” you ask, not wanting to get your hopes up. You know sometimes his team stays behind to help with processing a case. He doesn’t reply for a moment. “Spencer?”

“I’m... thirteen minutes away from your school. Twelve.”

Your brain short-circuits as you process his words, the cold metal of the door handle biting into your fingers as you stop dead in your tracks.

“You--are you driving here right now?”

“Yes,” he begins, sounding embarrassed, “I kept calling because I wanted to ask first, but I know you had your last final this morning and you were going to come over when I got back anyway so I thought you might want to come stay with me for a few extra days. You can say no, obviously—”

Some of the icy despair melts in your chest.

“Of course, I want to.”

“Good,” he exhales a laugh. “It would have been awkward if you said no. Can you have a bag packed by the time I get there?”

You’re speedwalking through the lobby now, hitting the up button for the elevator more times than is necessarily effective.

“Drive faster.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

By the time you blindly shove enough clothing in a bag, text your roommate to let her know you’ll be gone for the rest of the week, and make it back outside, Spencer’s familiar vintage car is already pulling up to the curb. He doesn’t even bother cutting the engine—just puts it in park and gets out, rounding the vehicle as you close the distance between one another. His smile is brilliant, and though you don’t feel particularly deserving of it, it’s for you.

“Hi,” you breathe shakily as he loops his arms around your waist.

“Hi, pretty,” he says, already leaning down to kiss you. It’s soft and sweet over too quickly, but then he’s gently pulling you into him. You drop your bag and bury your face in his jacket, trying to right yourself before you go into an emotional tailspin.

As usual, he smells like lavender, clove, resinous amber. It makes your head spin. Right away you feel yourself relaxing; feel your guard slipping, like it always does when he’s around.

“I missed you.” The words are quiet to begin with, muffled further by the fabric of his coat, but you know he’ll hear you.

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “Everything okay?”

Why are you always surprised when a man who works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI accurately analyzes your behavior?

“Just tired. Can we go home?” You pull back enough to look up at him, meeting his fond—and just a little concerned—gaze, averting your eyes before he has time to discern your... omission of truth.

“Yeah, angel. Of course we can.”

He opens the passenger side door for you, making sure you’re settled before tossing your bag in the back seat and circling around the back of the car.

“Is that coffee?” You say as soon as he slides into the driver’s seat. His eyes dart down to the tumbler in the center cupholder as he buckles.

“It’s from the jet. You won’t like it.”

Despite his warning you reach over to grab it, taking a small sip as he puts the car into gear and pulls out of the parking lot. You make a sour face. Spencer glances over.

“I told you it was bad.”

You yawn, putting it back in the cupholder. “It was worth a shot.”

Jazz music plays quietly from the speakers and the heat is blasting, but you’re too busy mentally rehashing question 37 to find it relaxing.

“You didn’t get enough sleep last night,” he states. Not a question. Outside, the brick buildings of your campus roll by. You wonder if all the students rushing about on the sidewalks and side streets failed any of their finals.

“Couldn’t,” you mumble flatly, picking at your nails.

There’s a moment’s pause, and you’re imagining all the things you could have done differently. You’ve never failed a final before. If you’d just studied a little bit harder—if you’d stayed in instead of going out last weekend, if you weren’t so—

“I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t think you’re going to like it,” Spencer says.

“Mhm,” you hum, too afraid to speak because your eyes are already stinging again. Honestly, you’re surprised you made it this far without him getting the truth out of you. He offers his hand across the console as you slink down in your seat, and you take it, allowing him to run his thumb over yours in soothing lines.

“How do you think your final went?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, the bare branches of the trees outside blurring as you stare unseeingly.

“Not good. Like, I definitely failed, not good. I'm an idiot.”

“You absolutely are not an idiot.”

“You didn’t see me taking the test, Spencer. I literally just sat there staring at it for ten minutes before I even answered one question. It was pathetic.”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

The question takes you by surprise. Your frown deepens.

“What? I don’t—that’s not—"

“Just answer the question. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Yes!”

“Don't lie to me.”

“Fuck you! I slept for like two hours and had coffee this morning!”

He squeezes your hand.

“That’s why you failed.”

The first tear traces its path down your cheek, composure overwhelmed by the confrontation.

“I hate when you use your stupid interrogation tactics on me,” you say, voice wobbling. And then the crying begins in earnest.

“I know, baby.”

His hand moves to rub your back when you let go to cover your face. Torrential evidence of your frustration and utter exhaustion well over, slipping through your fingers despite your best efforts to stop them from coming at all. Having an emotional breakdown in the passenger seat of his car is far from how you’d wanted to greet Spencer’s surprise arrival, but you’re too worn out to mask your emotions—especially when he is so adept at drawing them to the surface.

A moment passes like that before you take a shuddering breath, raising your head slightly and wiping your cheeks with your sleeves in vain.

“I should have been able to do it. I just—it was like I was reading the questions and I knew that I should know the answers, but I couldn’t remember anything.”

“You’re exhausted. Sleep deprivation has an immediate, devastating effect on cognitive functioning levels. My recall and processing speed start to fail when I’m tired, too. It has nothing to do with how smart you are.”

It makes sense—but it doesn’t make you feel much better. You wanted to ace this exam. Of course, Spencer wouldn’t understand because school was as easy as breathing for him. He barely had to try to get three doctorates. It’s possible, you suppose, that dating a genius has put an academic chip on your shoulder—maybe you’ve set impossibly high standards for yourself.

After a few minutes the crying finally ebbs, if only because you’re running into supply and demand problems with your tear ducts. You rub your weepy eyes on your shoulder, leaning against the cold window and watching DC go by.

“You know, the final isn’t as important as you think it is. You’ll still pass the class.”

“It’s symbolic,” you mumble, breath fogging up the glass. Spencer hums, still rubbing your back.

“I know. I know it matters to you, but I don’t want you to think one bad grade is a reflection of who you are. Do you understand why it doesn’t make sense to measure something as abstract as intelligence by a metric as one dimensional as a standardized test?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

You shift in your seat, wiping your face with your sleeve and prompting Spencer to take your other hand once more.

“Can your FBI friend hack the university database and give me an A?” you ask after a moment, sniffling.

“Absolutely not.”

“Pretty please?”

“Nope.”

“It’s like you don’t even love me,” you mutter, angling yourself away from him.

He pulls your hand toward him and presses a kiss to the back of it.

“I love you so much that I don’t want you to get expelled for academic dishonesty.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll probably just drop out.”

You both know you’re just being overdramatic, but Spencer has a tendency to be sweet even when you don’t deserve it.

“I’ll love you no matter what you do.”

You blush, unable to come up with a sufficient reply. His eyes slide to you briefly and he smirks, clearly enjoying his ability to fluster you, and by extension, get you to shut up.

“Eyes on the road, genius,” you grumble. But for the first time today you’re fighting a smile instead of tears.

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #criminal minds

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year ago

Note

Taking care of Coryo afte the bombing. He's being stubborn and doesn't want to rest and maybe says something hurtful to reader?

I started over three times...I hope you like it

Warnings: mention on bombing and deaths

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You were sitting by his side when Coriolanus’ eyes slowly opened, stirring from his deep sleep. He shifted in the bed and made a sound of discomfort, his shoulder throbbing.

‘’Easy, you’re gonna hurt yourself,’’ you said, helping him off his stomach and into a more comfortable position.

The scene had been horrifying to watch on the screen of the academy. No one knew exactly what had happened as the area wasn’t a very secured place. The screen had turned black after catching some of the explosions, leaving everyone in the auditorium worried for their fellow classmates — and tributes.

You brushed a hand through his hair, looking down at him. ‘’How are you feeling?’’

Coryo’s eyes met your concerned gaze. ‘’Lucy Gray, is she..?’’ he asked, a fog enveloping his mind.

‘’She is okay,’’ you reassured him. ‘’They took all the remaining tributes back at the Capitol zoo.’’

‘’I’m guessing they’re still going with the games.’’

You nodded. ‘’Do you remember what happened in the arena?’’

Coriolanus winced, trying to piece together the fragments of his memory. ‘’It’s all a blur,’’ he admitted, his brow furrowing. ‘’Explosions, fire and…people were running and more bombs going off. Lucy Gray and I got knocked down when the first bomb exploded. I tried to get back up, but a piece of the arena’s structure fell on me. She came back for me.’’

You gave a sympathetic smile, continuing to run your fingers through his disheveled hair. You had been so worried when Tigris told you a piece of the structure had fallen on her cousin during the bombing. ‘’They were old bombs some rebels must have placed between the end of the last games and now. The area is not well secure, so they could have gotten in at night.’’

Tigris returned shortly with Sejanus behind her. He was bringing information on the tributes and mentors' conditions. Coriolanus nodded as his friend spoke, absorbing the information while you held his hand, stroking the back with your thumb. Four tributes and two mentors had died.

‘’Wherever Marcus is right now, he has more chances at survival than in the arena,’’ Sejanus said, still cursing his father for buying his old friend as tribute. It was sick.

Coriolanus sighed, the weight of the games and the Plinth prize still on his shoulders.

‘’You should rest,’’ you said to Coryo after Sejanus left.

‘’I don’t have time to rest. The games are tomorrow. I need to think of a strategy so I can make my tribute win—’’ He tried to sit up, his face twisting with pain. ‘’Fuck.’’

‘’You don’t care about the girl! I know you’re doing this for the Plinth prize, but no amount of money is worth risking your health for. You need to rest, Coryo.’’

A bitter retort escaped his lips. ‘’Says the one who’s family is bathing in money.’’ He stood, seeking support from the wall as his head began to spin from the concussion. ‘’If I don’t win this money, everyone will know about the Snow family’s downfall. There was an eviction notice on our door last week. Tigris tried to hide it from me, but I saw it. We can barely afford food, how are we gonna pay rent? I need to go to university. I have to support my family. Without the Plinth prize, none of this can happen.’’

His state of panic made his head hurt from the heavy thinking. Coriolanus groaned, the pain intensifying, and released the wall to cradle his head in his hands, causing him to lose balance. Instinctively, you moved swiftly, grabbing him before he could fall, and guided him back on the bed.

‘’I may not know what it’s like to struggle financially, but don't hold it against me for being born into my family,’’ you said, not allowing him to make you feel bad for your social class. He couldn’t take his frustrations out on you. ‘’I don’t prance around my family’s money like our classmates do, or look down on the less fortunate. If you want to secure this prize, you need to lie back and rest. You can’t make your tribute win if you can’t even stand on your feet.’’

One thing you had learned these past years was that Coriolanus was the most stubborn person you knew. His determination could never be underestimated, a trait that often bordered on obstinacy. It was a crucial part of what made him who he was. Fortunately, you were one of the only people who knew how to reason with him and talk him down when he was being unreasonable. It wasn't always an easy feat, considering his unyielding nature, but you had honed the skill of navigating through his stubbornness.

He let out a sigh of defeat, knowing you were right. ‘’What am I gonna do?’’ Fear and desperation laced his voice, pulling at your heartstrings.

You sat beside him and gently placed your hands on his face. ‘’We’ll figure something out,’’ you promised, letting him know he wasn’t alone. ‘’For now, you’re gonna lie back in bed while I find you something to eat. I can hear your stomach screaming.’’

Coryo managed a faint smile, appreciating your concern. ‘’It’s not that loud...’’

You gave him a look as his stomach betrayed him with a loud noise. ‘’I’ll be right back.’’

—

Hunger games / BOASAS taglist: @crossyourmindrights @ziggyneedsabreak @folkloreshorts @runningfrom2am @soulessien @itzfckingreal @creedsofapollo @heart-helmet @javden @definitelykyles @pumkinnroses @pepperonipastas @arzua10 @upwritingallnight @cruzgrecia @evelestrange

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog��@queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1 @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @grxnde-dwt @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis@Shasta89 @sierraluvz @specialk6802 @CZARINERA @katherinejess

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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lightseoul · 26 days ago

Note

ooooo could u do 30?? love ur writing sm!! ur an inspiration!!

yes, i can! and thank you so much <3 this one was a bit of a doozy to write, since i really tried to take the unexpected route. enjoy!

(this is lightseoul's 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i'll whip something up!)

30. "WE SHARE THE SAME NAME!" (1.4k)

he was in the middle of opening the mysterious package—cautious as ever, of course, lest it be a bomb threat sent to the #2 pro-hero dynamight—when he hears the barrage of knocks echo from the door.

he’s not used to visitors showing up unannounced to his home, what with privacy being one of his most deeply held values, especially now that he’s a top-ranking hero in his early 30s.

but it’s not the prospect of having to deal with an intruder that sends his heart racing and his stomach churning with equal parts dread and excitement.

he can easily deal with a non-savory—no doubt about it.

but the person who’s responsible for the all-too-familiar three consecutive, not too heavy but not too light-handed rapping on his door?

not so much.

despite himself, he crosses the distance between him and the entrance in just a matter of few strides, and he takes a deep breath as he steels himself for what’s about to greet him at the other side.

he doesn’t even bother to look through the peep hole, opting to grab the knob and turn it with conviction.

and sure enough, there you are in your—no, his—front porch, decked out in your casual clothes with no makeup on, looking like you just hurriedly dressed yourself to run to his place in a fit of urgency.

it’s that thought that causes his face to morph into worry, even though a million other things are racing in his head, like how long it’s been since you two were alone together, or how fucking pretty you look despite looking so bare and winded.

he gives you another once over, eyebrows further furrowing in confusion, because why the hell would you go out of your way to see him amidst everything? “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you start, “it’s just—well, of course it’s not nothing. i wouldn’t bother you if i absolutely had no business to—”

bakugou feels himself frown at your words, but you don’t stop.

“—but i think my package got sent… here…”

you trail off, gaze shifting from him to the cardboard box he was just trying to pry open with his bare hands a few minutes before you unceremoniously arrived at his doorstep, and the second you land on it, your eyes widen, and before he knows it, you’re toeing off your shoes and barging past him and into the living room.

you reach for the package that has been sitting on the kitchen island this entire time, clutching it to your chest and turning to face him, looking absolutely horrified. “you opened it?”

bakugou stammers for a beat, not knowing what to say, before finally settling with: “what else was i supposed to do? we share the same name!”

that must’ve been the wrong thing to say, because your face falls, and for a millisecond he thinks he shouldn’t have went there, but just as quickly you school your face into a neutral expression, before heaving a deep sigh.

“they got my address fucking wrong again.”

neither of you say anything for a while after that, the both of you just standing there in tense silence.

because in bakugou’s case, what the fuck is he supposed to say to that?

that he thinks the universe is telling you two something? that the delivery men can’t even move the fuck on so why should he? that, after all this time, you two do still share the same name, and that it should stay that way—the bakugous—and not separated by a fucking ‘versus’ in the middle?

but he doesn’t say any of these, opting to stare at you instead as you fumbled with the package.

you’re being extra careful with it, he notes, your body angled slightly away from him, perhaps purposely obscuring his view of the parcel.

but then your hands slip and you yelp; down goes the box onto the pristine, hardwood floor, and out tumbles the contents so important that you raced all the way here to what used to be your shared home.

and when he sees it, everything suddenly makes sense.

because sprawled over the ground are what looks to be at least three matching sets of revealing underwear.

before he can even react, though, you swiftly crouch down and stuff the lingerie back into their container.

“they’re not mine—it’s my friend’s.” you then abruptly stand up, awkwardly smoothing back your hair, “she had it sent to my place to save on delivery.”

bakugou doesn’t know how he manages, but he hears himself reply in a surprisingly steady voice. “you don’t have to explain yourself.”

“well, i want to,” you toss back without missing a beat, and he legitimately feels a seed of hope and relief being planted in the pit of his stomach.

because, sure, your reason for filing a divorce against him might be something he can never wrap his fucking head around, but he knows you’re coming from a place of immense love for him.

always, always coming from a place of love.

immense love that he knows hasn’t died out despite your insistent efforts to pull away and keep him at arm’s length.

still, he must’ve been looking pained, because your face softens the way it always did when you were about to soothe him. “i don’t want you to misunderstand, katsuki.”

he doesn’t get the chance to respond to you saying his first name again after what has felt like ages, though, because you reach for the undergarments again before dangling them in the air for him to look at.

“see?” you wiggle them for further emphasis, cringing at the fabric. “you’d catch me dead before you see me in these.”

and he agrees, that type of style was never your cup of tea, and he knows that better than anyone else.

but the way you just said that?

“don’t fucking joke about you being dead.”

“i was just kidding,” you retort defensively, the playful expression that was just etched on your features now long gone. you drop your hand to your side, and you heave such a heavy sigh it wracks your entire body.

you’re exhausted, but so is he.

who wouldn’t be, fighting for a marriage where your spouse is your motherfucking opponent?

bakugou clenches his eyes closed for a second, before opening them and fixing his gaze onto you. you must’ve felt his piercing stare, because your own, timid gaze drifts to him.

and he knows it’s stupid for him to ask, but he just can’t help it—not when you’re looking oh so vulnerable in the kitchen where you’ve cooked a thousand meals together, watching him with palpable longing.

“…are we still doing this?”

this being divorce by litigation—something he never would’ve imagined would be part of his future.

imminent death, life-threatening injuries, global destruction, maybe.

but not this.

and when you nod, he curses himself for even asking in the first place, because no matter how many times you’ve gone over this, the scalding pain that stabs his chest doesn’t get any less excruciating.

“i’m not gonna get any better, kats,” you add on, voice small. “i’m way beyond recovery.”

“and so naturally you have to divorce me?” he snaps, although he instantly regrets it.

you purse your lips into a thin line like you always did when you willed yourself not to cry. “i’m just trying to give you a second chance at love while you still have the time.”

bakugou’s about to spit something along the lines of why you’re talking like you’re already dead but he bites his tongue just in time.

he already knows what your answer is going to be.

so, instead, he shakes his head, muttering to himself. “…whatever the fuck happened to in sickness and in health?”

if you heard him, though, you don’t make it obvious. instead, you gingerly gather your things and start heading for the door.

his eyes only follow your movement as you put on your sneakers, and as you straighten up, he has to fight the lump in his throat at the sight of you leaving.

something that you’ve been doing a lot these days.

“‘m sorry again for the hassle,” you speak up, sheepishly gesturing to the parcel in tow.

he shakes his head. “‘s nothing.”

only it isn’t just nothing.

because at this point, every excuse for him to get to see you is everything.

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miley1442111 · 8 months ago

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hi!!! can you do something with aaron, like a continuation of unfair with the other episode? like reader's drives the ambulance instead of Derek and reader and Aaron have a moment in the hospital?

love your writing, thank youuuuu!!!!

i love these two episodes, yes! thank u for requesting <3

unfair part 2- a.hotchner

a/n: this wasn't intended for a fem or male reader so imagine what you like :)))))))))))))) this is major spoilers for season 3 episode 20 and season 4 episode 1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

summary: the bombs started and you need to do something about it.

pairings: aaronhotchner x reader, platonic!BAUteam x reader

warnings: general criminal minds topics, descriptions of harm to reader, harm to others, descriptions of bombings, descriptions of pain, mentions of guns and knives, descriptions of wounds, mentions of hospitals, mentions of scars, mentions of insecurity around scars, mentions of death + more

Part 1

The blast was loud. So fucking loud. You were shot back at least 10 feet? You couldn’t tell. You couldn’t see Aaron, nor could you see Kate. It all happened so quickly. You stood up, looking around for him, for anyone. You stared at the burning car, seeing a figure, when your ears finally focused in.

“Y/n?! Y/n?!” Aaron screamed. “Kate?! Y/n?!”

“Aaron?!” You shouted back, limping towards him. His head was cut and he was limping too.

“Oh god,” he sighed, breath laboured. “You’re alive.” He pulled you close and a piercing pain in your shoulder made you scream and push him off you. “Y/N?!”

“M-my shoulder,” you whimpered, turning to let him look.

“Oh god,” he breathed out, low enough that if he wasn’t right behind you, you wouldn’t have heard.

“Is it- I don’t want to know. Where’s Kate?” you decided.

“I thought she’d be with you?”

You stared at each other then started frantically looking around, finally spotting her up the road.

“Kate!” You screamed. She was awake, bleeding out, but awake. You rushed to her side. “Kate!”

“Y/n, where’s Aaron?”

“He’s over there, w-with someone, we’re going to get you help-”

“Why are you bleeding?”

“We got hit, the blast from the car, we’re getting you help don’t worry- stay with me,” you explained. “Aaron!” you screamed. “We need to find the bleeding!”

Aaron came running over, a boy beside him. “Flip her on her side!”

You did as he asked and found her back a bloody mess. You found the bleed and plugged it with your finger.

“No one’s coming,” Kate muttered. “Orders. 1st responders are the second wave, remember?”

“Aaron go get someone from that front line now,” you ordered.

“I can’t leave you here-”

“Now!” You shouted. “Go Aaron!” He ran off, towards the frontline. Derek came back, ready to help.

“What’s going on?” he asked, a hand on your arm.

“We’ll need to move her if Aaron can’t get anyone over, Derek, she’ll die if we don't do something.”

You felt helpless, and trapped. Derek got a phone call and picked up. “What?”

You quirked an eyebrow up, a look of startled confusion gracing your face.

“You’re sure?” he asked. “The kid’s our bomber.”

You wave him off and he starts chasing him down the block. After what felt like hours, someone finally came to help, an ambulance from behind you. The paramedic patched her up with your help, and you opened the ambulance, ready to get the gurney and help Kate. You sat in the back, Kate awake as the paramedic drove.

“Where are we going?” You shouted.

“Nearest hospital, don’t worry we’ll get to her in time.”

You started looking around the back as Kate groaned in pain.

“W-what should I give her? I’ve done courses in administering medication, I-I’m certified,” you assured him.

“Wait ‘till the hospital,” he said calmly. “We’re two minutes out.”

You nodded, then started looking around for something, for anything. And that's when you saw it. The bomb under the bed. You stifled your gasp as you met a secret service checkpoint. You grabbed a piece of paper from your pocket and a pen and started writing.

“This hospital is closed, go to Lincoln instead,” the Secret Service Agent explained.

“I’m SSA Y/l/n, please, she won’t make it to the next hospital!”

"Credentials?" He asked and you pulled it out of your pocket and he waved you on. You opened the door just enough to shove your note out and you dropped it, praying someone would find it. You stayed with Kate as they brought her into surgery and a nurse came up to you.

“You need to lie down, follow me-”

“There’s a bomb in this building,” you whispered and she almost screamed but you put a hand against her mouth to stop her. “Start evac,” you flashed your badge and she nodded, you grabbed your gun from your holster and started to try and find the paramedic. Your adrenaline was wearing off and you could feel all of the pain in your shoulder. You looked as much as you could and saw a large piece of shrapnel in your shoulder, you let out a gasp but persevered. You caught sight of him in a long corridor, going towards the elevators. You followed him down to the ambulance, pointing the gun at his head. “Stop what you’re doing.” But the bomb was already online. You pulled the trigger, aiming at his shoulder, immobilising him, then searched him, finding the phone.You pulled out your own phone and tried multiple people on the team, Garcia, Morgan, Rossi, Prentiss, hell, even Hotch despite knowing he wouldn’t answer. The paramedic gained back enough strength to stab you in the leg and make you drop the phone. He grabbed it and started running.

You called Spencer on your phone, praying he would pick up.

“Y/n? Are you ok?” he asked, frantic.

“I had the bomer, I shot him in the shoulder but he got away. The bombs online and he has the phone, get Garcia to block the signals for as long as she can.”

You hung up and mustered all the strength you still had in you and got up, you ripped your shirt and wrapped it around the wound in your leg, adrenaline kicking in once again. You got in the driver’s seat, thankfully the keys were in the ignition and you started the ambulance, then called Garcia.

“Hey, what can I do?” she asked.

“Garcia I need you to track the ambulance I’m in,” you said, out of breath. “Then tell me where I can drive where there’s no civilians around.”

“What are you doing?” she asked, terror clear in her tone.

“My job, now do yours,” you ordered and started driving.

“Head north, floor it, I’ll tell you when to turn,” she sighed.

As you drove you thought about your life. Living with your family as a child, moving to college, finding your life-long friends, meeting exes, all of your firsts in life, joining the FBI, joining the BAU, meeting all the amazing team, meeting Aaron, meeting Jack just a few months ago, looking at houses with Aaron.

All of it was so special.

“How long is left on the signal blocking?” You asked, driving through traffic at dangerous speeds.

“35 seconds,” Garcia said. “Turn left now!”

You obliged and saw the open green up ahead. You floored it, jumping out the second you drove over grass. The ambulance continued on, exploding around 20 metres away.

“Y/n?!” Garcia screamed down the line. “Y/n?!”

“Call an ambulance to where I am please, blast happened, I wasn’t in it, I just have fucking shrapnle in my shoulder that I would really like to get out and a stab wound in my thigh that’s being held together with a scrap of my shirt.”

“Ok, headed your way now,” she sighed in relief.

“I love you Pen,” you sighed, relieved that all this was over, as you sat down on the grass.

“I’m mad at you,” she sighed and ended the call. You chuckled to yourself as you heard the sirens, then finally allowed yourself to pass out.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up in a hospital bed, alone. You pressed the red call button, from the closed window you assumed it was the middle of night.

“Good morning, or should I say good evening?” she smiled as she walked in. “You have some people to see you, am I allowed to let them in?” You nodded. “No hugs or anything strenuous, you’ll rip your stitches.” You nodded again, showing her you understood. You left and behind her, Aaron, Spencer, Derek, Emily, Penelope, Jj, and Rossi came in. Derek was first to try to hug you but the nurse scolded him.

“How long was I asleep for?” You asked, your voice hoarse.

“A day,” Spencer answered.

“Oh. Was Kate ok?”

“She didn’t make it,” Derek sighed.

“Shit,” you stated.

“What you did was really brave,” Jj smiled. “We’re all really proud of you.”

You smiled at her comment but started tearing up. It was an awful experience. You didn’t feel like a hero. You felt like shit. Your body and mind hurt. “Can you… do you guys mind if it’s just me and Aaron for a bit? It’s just a bit much,” you explained and they nodded and left.

“Honey, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” he sighed, pulling a chair up beside you and holding your hand as you started to cry. Every breath brought another wave of pain from your shoulder. He moved to hold you and leaned into his touch, sobbing into his chest. You sat there like that for at least an hour, sobbing until you couldn’t anymore.

“I fucking hate this job,” you sighed after a long silence.

“I understand,” he sighed, kissing the top of your head. “Promise me you’ll never do something like this again?”

“I promise to never be in the fucking field again,” you sighed and he pulled back.

“You mean that?”

“Maybe in a while, but I’ll need some time just in the office. I have a psychology degree and 2 phDs I’m sure a department will want me. This job… it takes too much.”

“Ok honey, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that you had to do this.”

“I’m sorry I did this,” you sighed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like crap. The wounds and stuff… I’ll be covered in scars,” you mumbled. “You won’t want me then,” you joked, trying to hide the genuine fear you had about this.

“I’ll always want you,” he smiled, his true genuine answer.

“You’re just saying that,” you pushed, holding his hand.

“No I’m not,” he said, seriously. “I love you, all of you. All of you, forever.”

“Promise?” You said.

“Promise,” he kissed you tentatively, careful of your pain and fragility.

"I just want to get home. Have you called Jack yet?"

"He knows you won't be able for playing for a while. He said he wants to give you a hug."

You chuckled and leaned into Aaron again. You knew that despite the pain, scars, and anything else on the horizon, you’d be ok, you’d be with Aaron, the team, and Jack.

#aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner fluff #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #bau imagine #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fanfic

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deliciousangelfestival · 2 months ago

Text

Heartfelt Chase - Bucky

Character: agent!Bucky x female!agent

Summary: She tries to find an agent she secretly admires who went missing.

A/N: This story is inspired by the GIF. Lol. 😂

Also, it’s a fun break from the angsty political Bucky.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

You work as a data analyst at the spy agency. The only reason you’re here is because of your father. You’ve always dreamed of being a field agent like him, especially since his top pupil is none other than Bucky.

You've admired Bucky for years—secretly watching his missions from your screen, hanging onto every move he made.

You've volunteered for every one of his missions, offering to be a bystander, even joking about pretending to be a tree. But the boss always shut you down.

And every time you asked Bucky directly, he’d just say, “It eases my mind if you stay here.”

One day, everything changed. The agency lost contact with Bucky during a mission. You immediately volunteered to go after him, but the boss looked terrified and said, “No. He’s going to kill me.”

You had no idea what that meant, but when nobody made a move, you took matters into your own hands.

You tracked down his last known location and discovered the missing piece: Bucky was tailing an arms dealer who had a bioweapon.

“Damn it!” you cursed under your breath. This wasn’t supposed to be you stumbling upon a hidden bioweapon. And to make matters worse, you had no backup. You were quickly captured.

Thrown into the back of a car, you were bombarded with questions. Your head spun, but you stuck to your story. “I don’t know anything. I’m just here to find my friend.”

The guy questioning you chuckled, clearly not buying it. “Searching for a friend and finding a nuclear bomb? Quite the coincidence.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Where are we going, anyway?” You glanced at the empty road stretching out ahead of you.

“Torture room,” he said casually.

“Fantastic,” you muttered. The whole situation was spiraling out of control, and in this moment of panic, the only person you could think about was Bucky. But where was he?

Suddenly, a loud boom echoed behind you. The car jerked, the windows rattling from the explosion.

“What the hell?” your captor yelled, glancing back.

Then you heard it—the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle engine roaring toward the car. You craned your neck to look out the window, heart racing, and there he was. Bucky.

You couldn’t believe it. “Bucky!”

Still driving, Bucky shot you a quick glance, irritation flickering across his face. “Didn’t I tell you to stay?”

“If you’d sent a message, I wouldn’t be here worrying about you!” you shot back.

Bucky sighed like this was the last thing he needed. He pulled out a weapon and aimed it under the car. “Put on your seatbelt!”

Without hesitation, you braced yourself. In seconds, the car flipped into the air, crashing back down with a heavy thud. The world spun again, and everything went silent.

Moments later, Bucky pulled up beside the wreck, dismounted his bike, and yanked the door open.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice gruff but laced with concern. His eyes betrayed more than he let on.

You groaned, unbuckling yourself. “Define ‘okay.’”

Bucky shook his head, clearly holding back a sigh. “This is exactly why I don’t want you in the field.”

You glared at him, hands on your hips. “I’m perfectly capable, Bucky! I tracked you down, didn’t I?”

He crossed his arms, staring down at you, his usual calm exterior barely hiding the concern underneath. “Yeah, and look what happened. You almost got killed.”

You threw your hands up. “You could’ve been killed too! That’s why I came—no one else was going to look for you!”

His expression softened for a brief second before he glanced away. “I can take care of myself.”

“And I can’t?” You shot back, taking a step toward him.

He paused, looking like he wanted to say something but hesitated. Finally, after a long silence, he muttered, “It’s not about what you can do. It’s about what I can’t handle.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. “What do you mean?”

He clenched his jaw, still avoiding your gaze. “I can’t handle the idea of you getting hurt."

Your breath caught in your throat. The gruff, distant Bucky was showing a side of him you hadn’t expected. For a moment, you couldn’t find the words.

“You... care about me?” you asked softly.

You stood there, heart pounding, completely at a loss for how to respond. But before you could say anything, Bucky turned back toward his bike, his usual stoic mask slipping back into place.

“Let’s get out of here before more trouble shows up,” he said, swinging his leg over the motorcycle.

Still stunned, you climbed onto the back of the bike, wrapping your arms around him. As the engine roared to life, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that maybe—just maybe—this mission was worth all the danger.

Taglist: @thezombieprostitute, @scott-loki-barnes , @missvelvetsstuff , @mostlymarvelgirl , @kjah97 , @pattiemac1

#agent!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #buckybarnes #bucky x f!reader #bucky x female!reader #bucky fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #thunderbolts

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starlightsuffered · 2 months ago

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Do you think you could write a timmy fic where "it just doesn't fit" like, it hurts whenever they try, how gentle they are.

A/N - I’ve done ones like this before but here :)

It Just Doesn’t Fit

Info - angst, frustrated reader, oral/fingering (female receiving), virgin reader, big dick, using lube, unprotected sex, a bit of praise kink

“Just give it up,” I said, the feeling of sadness overwhelming me.

After a hard month of a difficult work environment and Timothée being gone often, I wanted to feel in control of something. My boyfriend suggest I pick the day we have sex for the first time.

We’d talked about it extensively over text. He would be my first and though many people had told me otherwise, I expected it to be magical. Timothée had promised he would make it as lovely as possible.

Now I felt like shit I lay in my own sweat and rose petals. I was hot and my hair was everywhere. It had started romantic until I’d cried out in pain Timothée had started to push in. It didn’t matter how many angles we tried. We were both grunting and frustrated.

He had offered to finger me or eat me out. We’d already done that and I wanted something new. I wanted one, just one of my plans to come through correctly. I didn’t want to feel like a failure in every aspect of life.

“Don’t bother, it’s just too big,” I sniffled. Suddenly, I was crying. I covered my overheated cheeks as the tears flowed. I tried to stop desperately but it just made my eyes well even more.

“Hey, no, baby,” Timothée said with concern lacing his tone.

“I just wanted one fucking thing to go right this month,” I snapped. I wasn’t angry with him, just the situation.

“Mon amour,” his voice was nearly a whisper that cracked with emotion. I heard a gulp from him and he laid his head on my chest. My hand automatically went to his hair. I made myself breathe more slowly.

“I thought, ‘well maybe even if my boyfriend is gone most of the time, I can at least give him some bomb pussy when he’s around’.”

“Oh baby,” he said mournfully. He pressed a chaste kiss to my exposed nipple. I shivered a bit.

“Look, I don’t want to force you, but I bet I can loosen you up a bit, and I’ve got lube,” he offered in a small voice.

“I want it,” I nodded.

“I know you’d imagine we’d get right into it, but you just need some prep baby, that’s expected. Don’t you dare worry about it, I’ve got you,” Timothée was smiling as he nearly blabbered.

“I want to make it good for you,” I said as I squeezed the last tears out.

“Honey, just let me take care of you. It is your first time. You’ve been going through hell. Let me help you,” he whispered.

I let him maneuver me. He gently spread my legs and kissed my inner thighs. His deft thumbs rolled circles on my nipples. I was already arching and relaxing. I was used to this, I didn’t feel a need to make it explosive because it was good every time.

“Yesssss, yes,” I gasped breathily. Timothée tongued at my clit for a bit before covering his fingers in the warming lube.

“Oh!” I jolted, my legs nearly closing as I felt the slick and tingling lube.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Timmy calmed me like a scared animal. I closed my eyes so I could relax again. His lips kissed up my stomach. He was leaving kitten licks and pecks. My breathing was getting to that familiar pant he made me do.

He nibbled at the place on my neck that made me crazy. My walls squeezed his long fingers. I let out a wanton whimper. My hands were all over him. Finally, his lips touched mine. I dove into the kiss.

I was pressing myself against him as much as I could. Somehow he was putting all of himself into this. I felt the warmth of his love and satisfaction with me. I could have cried. I’d been so lovely and anxious lately. He was making me completely melt.

He was kissing me with such adoration I hardly noticed when his hand changed over to his cock. He was milking the lube onto himself. I was shuddering at sounds of wetness.

“Want to try again?” He asked in a voice low and rumbling with need.

“Yes,” I gasped.

To my surprise he slowly, but surely, was sliding inside me. It still pinched a little but he seemed to adjust himself every so often so I wasn’t in so much pain. Finally, I felt his balls bump gently against me and I knew he’d bottomed out.

“You did it princess,” he breathed the praise. I couldn’t believe how wide I was smiling, in fact I was giggling. Timothée pressed his forehead against mine. He began to pump ever so slowly.

“Yes, yes, fuck yes,” I heaved in whispers of desperation and love.

“You feel so good. You feel like heaven,” he moaned. I loved the ways his brows furrowed in absolute pleasure.

“Fuck babbbbby,” I whined. I wrapped one leg around his waist and thrust upwards.

“Uh, uh, uh, uh,” Timothée grunted as he plunged inside me.

“So glad I could take your cock, so fucking happy I have this,” I groaned and threw my head back in bliss.

“My love, my girl,” he exclaimed and then he was all over my neck. He kissed and bit, giving me marks all over. I wanted to be littered with them. I wanted everyone to know who I belonged to. On those lonely nights when I felt like I could do anything right, I’d caress these bruises and remember this night.

“My cock belongs to you, my body, my heart, my soul,” he promised. His thrusts became faster as he fucked me. His hips snapped as he buried his face in my neck. He was mumbling praises and love into my ear.

“Gonna come,” I whispered.

“Let go on my dick for the first time,” he practically begged.

“Yes, oh fuck, my love, I’m fucking coming!” I cried out and arched against him. I felt my whole body tighten and then delicious release. I saw stars as every part of me exploded with intimate exhilaration.

Wetness and his own release mixed together. He was kissing me over and over as if it were all he knew. He had orgasmed as well, filling me with his gratification.

We were laughing now, all the stress falling away. It was sweet breathy kisses and whispered thanks to one another. It was like we were afraid to break the golden moment and the dreamy haze that surrounded us.

“Thank you my love. If you need it, I’ll carry you around tomorrow you will likely be sore,” he explained. He took my hand in his as he began to pull out.

“Cocky bastard,” I teased in a tight voice.

“I’m so happy I got to do that with you, so you can call me whatever you like,” he told me as he got the cloth to clean me and him up.

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming

#reader insert #x reader #timothee chalamet #timothee chamalet #timothee fanfic #timothee imagine #timothee x reader #timothee x y/n #timothee x you #timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet smut #timothee smut #it’s just too big #it just doesn’t fit

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centrally-unplanned · 2 months ago

Text

IRL (In Real Life) - Buffydom Propaganda And The Internet-That-Was

It is 1997. You just got back from the latest Hot Topic run to restock on whatever the most raven-black bomb of Manic Panic they have on the shelves is, so you can do double-duty bleaching your hair in the shower while watching a CRT TV precariously mounted on the lip of your sink. On that TV is the Season 1 finale of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and you are obsessed. Unfortunately for you, no one else in Bowling Green, Ohio, shares your passion for a CW WB show about vampire hunting teens who purposefully fumble their line deliveries. You are alone, and you have shit you gotta say about it to someone, anyone, who will understand.

Fortunately for you, the marketing team at ye old WB anticipated that their audience would be a bunch of fucking nerds, and boy do they have a solution to your problem! Welcome to the Bronze:

A while back I stumbled upon the inexplicable existence of "IRL (In Real Life)", a 2007 documentary about the community that formed around the aforementioned Buffy fan discussion forum/chatboard. Officially running from around the launch of the show until it switched over to UPN after its fifth season (with the forum dying a dramatic death in the process), The Bronze was a highly active center for the Buffy fandom, which generated several spillovers into real life. In particular, it was famous for the creatives and even actors on the show occasionally posting on the forum, which culminated in members of the community organizing a yearly party in Los Angeles where posters would fly out and be joined by said cast and crew. This documentary charts its culture & history via interviewing an array of its members.

As always, I am not here to give the blow-by-blow; instead, what is the narrative this documentary is trying to sell?

My previous documentary write-up was about nerd culture in the 2010’s; newly ascendant, growing confident in its own values and looking to justify that to itself, wealthy and with a developed enough ecosystem for crowdfunding to create professional, polished documentaries of its own heroes. None of that is true for IRL. Filmed on whatever camcorder/potato hybrid proto-Ebay would cough up from its zero-bid listings in a series of hotel rooms and people’s living rooms in 2003-2004 after the forum had died, this is the era of nerd culture at its most conflicted and insecure; mocked by the mainstream and unsure if it should be proud of that fact or deeply ashamed of it. And this documentary wears this conflict right on its sleeve; one of its opening lines is a confident assurance to the audience of “don’t worry, we aren’t like those nerds”:

Throwing Trekkies under the bus in the process, cold! Particularly given how it proceeds to barely even blink before pivoting to explaining their hobby of running “WITTs”, multi-day-long collaborative roleplays:

You are exactly those Trekkies my dudes; you weren’t just at the devil’s sacrament you were hosting it! "WITT" stands for Whedon Improvisational Theatre Troupe, you can't recover from that guys.

(I love how “dozens” is large by the way - it was for the internet in 2001, right?)

Anyway, beyond documenting the forum and its members, the conclusion this documentary wants you to hold is that the Bronze was a special place of real community, and it is a community of “normal” people, who made real relationships. And in particular, that internet relationships can be just as real as those found in meatspace, that these relationships transcended the digital and entered the physical; and that this is what fandom can be about.

I want to start with the ways that narrative was correct within the context of the time. I can actually explain that Klingon comment! I have one extant interview with the director of the film, Stephanie Tuszynski, and she put her motivation as follows:

FFN: What made you decide to study Buffy fandom, particularly the Bronze, for your documentary? ST: The idea to do a documentary film about the Bronze actually came to me very early on, because "Trekkies" came out in the late 1990s so I was already a Bronzer at that point. And when I saw it I started throwing things at my television. I was incensed. That wasn't a documentary about the fandom experience, it was "hey let's find the most extreme examples possible and have a freak show!" It infuriated me […] It reinforced every awful stereotype about media fans while purporting to be objective.

It wasn’t a random example - the 1997 documentary Trekkies set the “standard” view of fandom as extremist oddballs, and Tuszynski specifically wanted to counter that. It was the early 2000’s after all, nerd stereotypes were strong, you had to fight them explicitly! In a society where there is strong background hostility to one’s identity, you will attempt to normalize it using known reference points; and certainly the people on these forums were more “normal” than the stereotypes admitted to because that entire binary framework is a dead end.

More importantly to the narrative is the online aspect, “making friends on the internet”. Another find I have is a blog post from a professor who used the film in a class; and in the film’s narrative of “people with no one ‘irl’ to share their hobby with finding friends online” triggered a debate around if the online relationships are “taking away” from in-person relationships that are presumed to be more valuable. A debate that still rages to this day over social media! But the contours were different back then, the internet was presumed to be niche, ancillary, and relationships made online in a completely separate box from “in person” friendships. The documentary goes to great lengths to explain that they were a real community because that idea is so contested. Ironically, they do this by emphasizing that they met up in person, hung out, attended each other's weddings, etc; as if only by meeting up in person could the relationships be validated as real? But you can’t truly fault them for meeting their implicit critics halfway in making their case.

So what can I fault them for?

*****

I was perpetually amused when watching the doc that they included two married couples in the filming, and for both one of the spouses would talk and the other would sit there, in silence, the entire time. Maybe they were members of the community and just not talkers; maybe their lines got cut in post. But what I kept thinking was that they were there selling normality to me; married couples are just inherently less oddball, less threatening, and in the era where “nerd = virgin” just less nerdy. Like with the Klingon line, there is an intentionality to the “just like you” vibe.

Which, as mentioned with the extensive forum roleplay, inevitably breaks down once the reality of forum activity is dug into. And I buried the lede here - you may have seen the title of the “longest” roleplay was “RTBS Soul Restoration Project”, but what does that mean? RTBS was a forum member’s name, and well:

Oh yeah, we are saving our friend from “a fate worse than death: worshiping Britney Spears” - welcome to 2001 baby! This is peak “nerd wars” stuff, the normies hate our shit so we hate the normie shit right back. Which is exactly how nerd culture was in the 2000's. I am not at all throwing shade at their tongue-in-cheek roleplay, resplendent in the ludicrously purple prose and asterisk-laden action descriptions as required by the early internet; but it sits in clear tension with some of the other messaging in this film. Leave Britney alone guys!

The documentary highlights a number of common practices from the forum - people doing daily greetings, the way that it being one unending massive chain of posts with no threading or topics meant people would mass-tag individual people to respond to and form “circles” that way - but there are things it leaves out. I did what any normal person would do after watching this documentary and read through over a year of archived posts on The Bronze to understand the community - but man did I not have to, as on literally the first page of my archived link I see:

And through God’s good grace that second link is archived:

Yes there are pictures at the link, and yes later on it does compare Buffy’s cleavage to the Mona Lisa. (The Giles link is not quite functional, but I was able to find it; sadly it is not nearly as thirsty)

I also found these “onboarding” sites for new members. Remember, this forum was the official forum, which meant there were no community mods or ability to “pin rules”, it was pure anarchy - so advice filled the gaps. And one of the bigger ones, in its *sighs and rubs forehead* blue font on black background, warns against “hottie posting” aka talking about how hot say Angel is, not because it isn’t allowed, but because it is like “pointing out the sky is blue” - it is so common that it will just get washed out.

It might seem like a similarly sky-is-blue comment to note that this forum was heavily about shipping, hotness discussion, fanfiction, and the like. Of course it was, right? These website “senior members” were trying to minimize it, police it, but it broke through constantly and also simmered under the surface through discussions and RP’s from my own review of the forum. The documentary, however, spends incredibly little time on it. Brief mentions of Angel fics, and no mention (iirc) of discussion of how hot the women were at all. Because once again those details really don’t fit into the narrative it is trying to sell.

At one point in the documentary someone notes how diverse all the friends they met in this community were? Which I broke out laughing over. In one way it is not wrong, I get it! Midwest college kids meeting people from all over the country, ages 40 to 14, talking about something no one in their podunk town understands. But on the other hand, you could not come up with a more standardized slice of humanity if you tried to rig it. Everyone here is an American+ with computer access in 1998, it is a grab bag of sys admins, nerd creatives, and comp sci majors. I did a random sampling googling the people interviewed to see what they are up to now, and literally a third of them are librarians. Even their fashion is like God played a prank on this director; not even a 2000’s anime con panel lineup is this stereotypical in the combinations of alt-goth lit girls and nerdcore computer bros.

The evolutionary process of joining this forum -> liking it enough to go to the live meetups -> liking that enough to participate in a documentary about it was a pressure cooker spitting out only a certain kind of person. Which is truly fascinating to see on display! This is the internet-that-was; and it bleeds through the grainy film despite the director’s efforts at times to the contrary.

Though even then it was only a very specific slice of the internet-that-was, because this is a very special breed of Online; namely, the professionals.

*****

Something that is decidedly not typical of The Bronze as an online community is that, as mentioned before, Joss Whedon and other creatives posted on the web forum, answering questions and also just playing around, and how that led to in-person parties where both forum members and cast/crew attended - the Posting Board Parties, or PBP’s. At these they hosted fundraisers, talked about the show, and in the documentary one girl reverently describes with incredible Repressed Lesbian Energy her experience of seeing Eliza Dushku dancing next to her. The PBP had a panel of party organizers, admission systems to keep out the “undesirables”, budgets, the works.

All this the documentary shares openly; it is a peak moment where the digital becomes real in a transcendent way, opening doors analog reality never could. It is also a cold-sweat-waking nightmare story from the lens of a modern Hollywood social media manager; one person in the documentary tells the tale of how one time lead actress Allyson Hannigan posted her phone number on the forum asking people to leave her cute voicemails. The person in question immediately called, and got Hannigan herself instead of the voicemail, so they chatted for a bit (The guy telling this tale is obviously lovestruck; his wife is sitting in typical silence next to him). Today this would be a code-red, nuke your phone situation; but the circle was so cloistered, and the rules so unwritten, that no one cared in these early years.

What they share less openly is all the drama that went into this event. They wax nostalgic about how the parties brought them together, but what isn’t mentioned is the church schism it caused, as the moment cast from the show started attending the party it got mobbed by outsiders. By its ~3rd year there were approximately 400 guests but only ~50 or so were from the forum. They had a huge fight about it, the head of PFP planning committee - “Morbius the Vampire”, who was later jailed for financial fraud btw - told the dissenting faction why don’t they just throw their own party if they hate his so much, and so they did. There was more fighting about it, and eventually they held a peace summit at an LA joint called Mel’s Diner to merge the two factions together. (My source for this is a book, which I will link later)

Hilarious, for sure, but while so much of what we have discussed is “proto online nerd communities”, this part is most decidedly not. The typical web forum absolutely cannot replicate the experience of roleplay-posting your way into shaking hands with Joss Whedon and having a shitfight over party budgets in LA. But most posters never got to attend these parties, of course, this didn’t mean much to them. While for those who did, you cannot help but imagine that this played a gigantic role in making them all become a “real” community. And care enough about that circle to, well after the forum was gone, schlep to a hotel room to be interviewed for a documentary about it. Participating in a documentary is always, in some way, an exercise in selection bias; but here the pruning is turned up to 11 - this is a very elite slice of a very unique fandom experience.

*****

I have one deeper level to go on this thread, somewhat buried in time today, that further shaped the participants here: “Whedon Studies”. The 2000’s was not the birth of media studies as an academic discipline; but it was the birth of fandom-driven media studies, and Buffy was nearly unassailably the leading light of that movement. Academics hosted entire conferences (and inexplicably still do!) on Buffy, Firefly, etc; almost all from the lens of gender & media, as Buffy’s brand was deeply entrenched in that deconstructive milieu. This movement would die a fiery death during the 2010’s shift in media & gender politics, and when the controversies around the toxic working conditions on the set of Buffy/Angel led to Joss Whedon’s near-total expulsion from creative pursuits. The whole edifice is, in a deep way, “cringe” for many of its former participants today.

But what is relevant for our story is that director Stephanie Tuszynski was a full member of that movement; while composing this film she was, for example, giving talks like these at conferences devoted to the Buffyverse:

God that is a lot of talks. This film itself was her thesis project for her I believe philosophy masters, and in our scant interviews lists other fandom-academic film projects she wanted to tackle (which as best I can tell fizzled out later). And the interview subjects were often participants in the same space as well! Academic-types doing media studies with a Buffy bent, or things like culture writers for new media outlets. One of them, writer Allyson Beatrice, even published a book about the Buffy fandom that was in regular bookstores:

To quote the blurb:

A hilarious collection of true stories from Allyson's days as one of the Internet's leading cult TV fan gurus, her mind-boggling escapades include meetings with network executives in dark steakhouses to try to save doomed TV shows and one hastily arranged wedding for two committed Buffy fans.

I highlight this not to say that academics cannot make documentaries, they certainly can. What I am saying is that if you point your camera at career Buffyverse writer Allyson Beatrice, and label her as a typical forum member giving you the hometown everygirl perspective on the community, you are, however unintentionally, lying to your audience. In its quest to give you the just-like-me Buffy fandom experience, what this documentary elides is that it is often giving you the lens of people who are fans of Buffy as a career. Those people are going to be bringing very different experiences to the table - of course they are concerned with sanitization, with nerd culture debates, the works. That is their bread-and-butter trade.

This dynamic bled into the forum’s day-to-day; there was a very clear hierarchy of “veterans” and “top” posters, who organize the live parties, have deep roots in the community, and even the ear of the show team...and everyone else. Particularly because as mentioned there were no rules on the forum, but since that can’t actually function in practice they self-generated community rules and thus their own leadership class. Cliques and groups were common and named, and veteran posters even had formally designated groupies:

I had also by this time become a groupie. I so enjoyed one particular Bronzer’s posts that she allowed me to become the seventh of her groupies. It was through groupie-dom that I got my first taste of firsthand WITT: several Bronzers, on the occasion of the birthday of she-to-whom-we-group, each took turns grabbing the microphone and praising the day that she was born. In retrospect, I’m not sure why we did this. But it was fun, and very funny, too, as we each took turns waxing melodramatic off the top of our heads. And from work, no less.

The source for this by the way is a 400 page ethnography of The Bronze posted by academic who did *cough* “field research” there; I am sure their membership in the “Bronzers Adoring Darla” fangroup was purely for comprehensive data collection purposes.

And to emphasize, I am not saying this is problematic or anything - the groupie things were all in good fun, best I can tell. I simply aim to showcase how the Bronze wasn’t just a baby version of online fandom forum dynamics; but also a baby version of e-celebrity mechanics. Something the documentary does not even attempt to touch on because that would be something normal people would not understand.

*****

All of the above may have come off like one big roast, and it is a little bit, but as I have mentioned before every documentary is propaganda. It is just impossible to have a tight film building a narrative out of the pieces of letting people speak to the camera without that narrative being but a slice of the truth those people want you to know. The Bronze web forum was a very special place to these highly invested fans, and this documentary is not lying to you about that.

But it is also a big part of early internet fandom! The Bronze was famous at the time, and it is right there at the beginning of so many shifts; the first generation of non-technical internet users, a new era of ‘fantasy’ media with the trappings of prestige and social critique, a boom in critique-as-community, and more. I very much want the full picture of that community; who made it up, what did they want from it and what did they get from it, and so on. No film could offer the full picture; this film’s homebrew rawness gives a valuable piece of it, and I enjoyed it for that. I just aimed here to draw out not only what the broader, more accurate dynamics of The Bronze were, but also the cultural question of why the film focuses on what it does, hides what it refuses to show, and what that says about 2000’s internet & nerd culture. Hopefully I succeeded in that.

And also to have fun looking at some incredibly dated Buffy fandom bullshit. May it have been fun for you too! {hugs you and waves goodbye}

#essay #buffy the vampire slayer #history of the early internet #Yeah I have no excuse for the length on this one - sometimes you just wanna be self-indulgent

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alexa-fika · 6 months ago

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Hello, can you do injuredchild!dokucha x Cross guild. It was buggys fault because he was suppose to take you out on a little walk outside but he then got distracted and now he lost you. They try to find you, mihawk worried. After 2 days, they find out the marinies took you when Buggy wasn't looking.

Thank you, and make sure to drink water

Family Secrets (Cross guild x gn!child!reader)

A/N okay…. I totally missed the injured part of the piece but hopefully this is somewhat what you were expecting. GUYS I AM BACK, I THINK. MY THROAT STILL HURTS BUT PINK EYE IS GONE, I think, BUT I DID IT , BE PROUD OF ME

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stabds for reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“Cruncle is going to be reallyy mad at Mister Clown if he hears what you said,” the child said, a frown on their face as they looked up at clown

“Bah, he won’t know. I'm no snitch. Are you a snitch?”

“Umm, I don’t think I should keep things from Dad and Cruncle…”

“You should, they could get mad, y’know?”

“Dad and Cruncle are going to get mad at me?!” They cried

“They won’t if you don’t snitch, that will make them happy.”

“O-okay, if it makes Cruncle and Dad upset then I won’t be a snitch!”

“Atta Kid, what does make them happy is for you to call me Uncle Buggy, to hear how good of a time you had with ol Uncle Bugg…!” Buggy grinned, only to frown as the child began tugging at his clothes, trying to get his attention again

“What?! Don’t interrupt me!” He snapped

“But Mister Clown, ships are coming to the island.”

“Yeah, yeah, those are probably more guild members returning after handing out rewards,” he brushed off, trying to continue his previous statement, only to scowl as once again he was interrupted

“But they’re marine ships…

“You little brat let me ta- HAH?!”

His words were promptly cut off as the sound of bombing began to be heard, heavy objects crashing around them; the last thing they heard was the shrill cries of their self-proclaimed uncle

“Oh, you’re Up!”

Dokucha looked up at the sound of the voice, finding themselves being carried by an unfamiliar man in a familiar uniform, upon realizing this, they were quick to scramble off the man with a startled cry

“Hey! Hey! Don’t worry. We are here to rescue you! We’re the good guys!” They exclaimed, kneeling next to the startled child

“Where’s Papa?” They cried, backing away from them

“Papa? Oh! Those slimy pirates must have kidnapped you. Don’t worry, we’ll find your Papa!”

“Dokucha, if you are ever captured, you must not let the Marines know about your relationship with me.” Mihawk started looking at the child in front of him

“No! I Want everyone to know about Papa!” They remembered screaming back at his father’s strange statement only to squeak at the glare the former threw at them at the interruption

“Sorry”

“Listen, it is to protect you. If marines were to know of your relationship with me, they would not be as kind to let you go, making it harder to retrieve you.”

“Harder to come back to Papa?”

“Yes, if they do know of me, you can come back with ease”

“I want everyone to know I’m Papa’s and how awesome he and Cruncle are, but if it means I can come back sooner, I will keep it a secret! I'm really good at keeping secrets!”

“I know you are,” he replied with a small smile, ruffling their hair

“Kid?”

“Ah?”

“Do you know the name of your father?”

“No..,” they sniffled climbing to their feet

“I see; well, just give me a minute. I will report back, and then we will be on our way,” he said pulling out a den den mushi from his coat

“Okay, sorry to make you wait, now let’s head to the ship. I'm sure your father must be close by, and if those scumbags got him, we will save him!”

“Ship?” They questioned

“Yes, we can help you look for him when we make contact with HQ.”

“That won’t be necessary.” A voice cut in

The blinked owlishly as the marine plummeted to the ground, grinning at the familiar figure standing behind them

“Uncle Daz!” They cheered, running and jumping to the arms of the officer

“Are you ready to go?”

“Are we going to find Papa?”

“No. I am already aware of his whereabouts; we are heading back to the guild.”

“Hah? Where is Papa?”

“He is handling the disturbance along with Crocodile; we will rendezvous at the guild.”

“That should be the last of them,” muttered Crocodile, glancing at the destruction surrounding him and his co-worker had created, a chuckle escaping him

“Something you wish to share?,” Mihawk muttered, shedding Yoru behind him

“Never took you for the protective type, Hawkeye.”

“What are you on about?”

“Don’t try to hide it; the kid affects you; there is anger behind your sword.”

“….”

“Has the fearsome Hawkeye gone soft on someone?”

“Hold your tongue if you wish to keep it, Crocodile,” he sighed as he walked away, letting the latter snicker away in amusement only for his amused smile to turn into a scowl around at words

“Not to mention, you have also been affected by them; I was not the only one blinded by rage in this battle.”

“Papa!” Dokucha cheered, running to the arms of the swordsman as he made his way into the guild

“I apologize I did not retrieve you personally. Are you alright?”

“Yeah! Uncle Daz found me from the marine guy,” they cheered, nuzzling into their father's embrace

“Did he hurt you?” He asked, a slight tightening in his hold at the words spoken

“No, but he kept insulting everyone! He was so mean, Papa!”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah! Such a meanie! He kept calling you icky names, but I did as Papa asked and never told him about you!” They grinned, throwing the swordsman a thumbs up

“I knew I could trust you with it, good job” he replied, a smile forming on his face

They beamed at his praise, giggling happily until a thought came to mind

“Eh? Papa, where is mister Clown?”

“Don’t worry about him. He is occupied at the moment; Crocodile is with him.”

“Oh! Is Cruncle taking care Of him? Is he hurt?”

“He is….taking care of him, yes. I will join him soon enough to clear some with the clown as well.”

Here we go, like I said I did miss that injured part but hopefully you guys like it? Im sorry I kept all of you waiting for so long, is everyone still alive? Also im sorry to the buggy fans but….he’s gone, he definitely ain’t surviving this

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

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evanpeterswhoresblog · 10 months ago

Text

Cherry Bomb (pt. 3)

Remus Lupin x f!reader, James Potter x f!reader (mentioned), Sirius Black x f!reader (mentioned)

warnings: smut, p in v, i think it’s protected atp idk, fingering, underage smoking, very dom remus, long af but omg i’m so in love with it

summary: the last part of your plan is far harder to achieve than the first two and it’s far more complicated.

word count: 5k

a/n: ahhh here’s the last part (i think?) anyway sorry it’s long i got carried away but ugh i love remus so much. sorry if my characterization is off, ever since atyd i see him as sarcastic. yeah i love this, hope you guys do too :)

~~~

Out of all the marauders, Remus Lupin was by far the most liked. He was quiet, but not invisible. He was the most sensible out of all the boys and the most polite. Though he did tend to be witty and sarcastic, he was kind at heart. But he was also the hardest one to get close to. Quiet, reserved, beautiful Remus with his nose always stuck in a book. There was always something about him that made girls fall fast. But that was the thing. It was always so easy to fall in love with him. So, if one ever wanted to shag Remus Lupin, they would have to deal with the consequences of loving him. Because he was nothing like his mates. He didn’t shag just anyone. No. He had to choose you. And to be chosen by him was the biggest accomplishment and the biggest curse. Because once you get him, you will never want to let him go.

~~~

Avoiding two of the marauders is nearly impossible. Each corner you turn it seems you run into one of them, or both. And each time their eyes find you they show the same expressions. Confusion. Frustration. Perhaps even a bit of sadness. You debate throwing away the entire plan daily. It’s unfair, the way you’re playing with their minds. But the lingering knowledge that you’re so close to completing the plan entirely keeps you going. Because surely, all your hurt feelings can’t be for nothing.

Right?

You speak to James only once after your shag in the broom closet. It’s a week or two after, he’s been chasing you around, and you’ve been avoiding him. But you decide he deserves some amount of closure. Sweet, lovely, innocent James. You find him alone in the library and take your opportunity. The way he smiles when he sees you approaching makes your heart ache terribly and regret fills your stomach.

“Y/n I’ve been trying to catch you, how are you?” He asks once you’re close enough to hear his quiet tone.

He looks so happy, you feel sick.

“Yeah, I just you know… haven’t been feeling too great,” you lie.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Sit if you’d like, I’ve been attempting to study for the potions test. Aren’t you good with potions? Could you help me possibly?”

You inhale deeply. You could really use a cigarette right now. You’ve broken things off with guys before, but this feels different. In the other cases, you’ve had reasons. For this case though, you have none. James is innocent in all of this. It makes you nauseous.

“Listen, James,” you start, your voice soft. “What happened was great, I enjoyed it a lot, but it was a mistake. I like you, you’re very sweet, but I don’t think we should do anything else.”

Watching his face fall is by far the most horrid sight you’ve ever seen. All the happiness fades fast and leaves behind a bitter frown. He looks down at his papers, toying with his quill.

“I see…” He looks back up, a fake smile on his lips. “That’s alright, it was fun. I’m not really looking for anything serious like that either, so I understand.”

You swallow hard. “I really do like you James, believe me, but it’s just not the right time for this.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.”

“And...” You pause for a second. “You won’t tell anyone?”

He nods. “Not a soul. This will be our little secret.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“Well then, I’ll let you get back to your potions. Thanks for... everything.” You give him one last smile before turning on your heels and making your way out of the library.

You almost put an end to it right then and there, but then you see the tallest marauder walking down the hall with Peter. His hands are in his pockets, his book bag slung over one of his shoulders. For a split second his eyes meet yours as the two of you pass each other.

He gives you a small awkward smile.

Fuck.

~~~

To catch Remus Lupin alone you must take the risk of losing your house some points. You wait a week before making your move, for safety. After your conversation with James, the only marauder to pay attention to you is Sirius. He’s still set on telling everyone that the two of you shagged, but thankfully, not many people believe him. Not even his best mates.

It’s a very quiet night when you sneak out after curfew. A night you know one particular prefect is doing rounds on his own. You wander through the castle quietly, making sure to avoid the areas in which teachers lurk. Goosebumps form on your skin, you should’ve worn more than a tee-shirt and sweatpants, but you needed to look casual.

As you’re about to turn a corner, you spot Filch. Panic surfaces inside you and you quickly turn around and run as quietly as you can down the hall. You take a few turns and just as you’re about to relax, you hear a voice.

“It’s past curfew, what are you doing out here?”

Your heart stops for a completely different reason.

It’s him.

You turn to face him and shyly smile. You watch his face change as he recognizes you.

“Oh, it’s you.” He narrows his eyes. “Off to shag my mate again, are you?”

“I never shagged him,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. “And I’m out for a completely different reason.”

“What reason is that?”

You shrug. “Personal reason.”

“Ah well, hope it was worth losing your dear Ravenclaws ten points. Get back to your dorm before someone else catches you,” he says, turning away from you.

You watch as he walks down the hall, not giving you another thought. You would’ve replied sarcastically if you could speak for that matter. Once he disappears, all you can do is shamefully make your way back to your house's common room, now understanding why James likes being a chaser.

~~~

Some time passes before you get Remus alone. Each time you see him during the day, he’s accompanied by one of the marauders and you can’t sneak out during his rounds again because your fellow Ravenclaws were not pleased. You’re smoking behind the castle when you happen to finally catch him walking alone. You immediately take your chance.

“Lupin!” You call out to him. You get up from the bench you were sitting on and walk to him.

Thankfully, he stops walking and turns back to face you. “Y/l/n. Is there something I can help you with?”

You can tell from the tone of his voice he’s trying to be polite; it makes your insides warm.

“Yeah, actually there is. I was wondering if you could help me with my transfiguration essay. You’re the smartest lad in the year,” you answer, taking a small puff of your cigarette. You hold it up to offer him a hit, he shakes his head.

“Those things will kill you,” he says. “But I suppose I can help a bit. I assume you’re free right now?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Let me take a look.”

A smirk forms on your lips, and you let out a breath of smoke purposely into his face. “Take a girl to dinner first.”

He swats the air, fanning away the smoke. “Are you going to show me or not? I have things to take care of.”

“Sorry.” You hate the way your face burns. “Come see.”

The two of you make your way to the bench and you take out your essay. Truthfully, you are already finished with it, and you think your work is good. But much to your dismay, only a few seconds after he starts reading it, Remus takes out a muggle pen and begins crossing things off.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your spelling is shit, and you’ve contradicted your argument at least twice already and I’m only on the second paragraph,” he answers, his eyes glued to the paper. “Maybe if you spent more time studying than shagging and smoking, you’d have this information down. We reviewed it a few weeks ago.”

You scoff. “I have not been shagging.”

“Sure,” he mumbles, crossing off another sentence.

“I swear, Sirius is mistaken.” You lie.

He turns his head, his green eyes meeting yours. “Who said I was referring to Sirius?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you cough due to the smoke. Is he talking about James? Your heart rate increases, and anxiety flows throughout your body. Did James tell? You catch your breath, your eyes meeting his again. He looks unamused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t shagged anyone in months, not that it’s your business,” you say.

“You should really practice more on your lying; you are shit at it.” He hands your essay back to you and stands. “I left a few notes of some things you should change, but my biggest suggestion is that you reread the textbook, and perhaps find some more... enticing quotes. Is that all then? Like I said, I’ve got some other business to tend to.”

For a few seconds, all you can do is stare up at him, your mouth hung open ever so slightly. You previously thought Remus Lupin to be a timid boy who went along with the rest of the marauders because he couldn’t say no. Now though, you realize all those assumptions are wrong. He’s quiet, but not timid.

“What do you know?” You question.

“Quite a lot, thanks for the chat.”

Before you can even think of a response, he’s already walking away. You can’t let him slip away again.

“I’ll get it out of you Remus Lupin if it’s the last thing I do!”

He turns his head over his shoulder and chuckles, the sound sending warmth straight to your core. “We’ll see.”

And just like that, he’s gone, and you’re left flustered with rosy cheeks.

You did save the best for last.

~~~

Falling for the third marauder is easier than anything. Almost unconsciously, you begin to fail classes so that he can help you with work, you learn his route around the castle to see him at least once a day, and you sneak around the castle some nights, but he always ends up finding you somehow.

One night, a little over a month after you’ve started your game, something unexpected happens. You’re out after curfew once again, tiptoeing around the castle to see where the tallest prefect is when he appears from behind you. Like usual, he crosses his arms and clears his throat, making you quickly spin on your heels to face him. How does he always sneak up on you?

“How many times am I going to catch you before you start following the rules? I’m sure your fellow Ravenclaws aren’t too pleased with you,” he says. You look up at him, a genuine blush on your face. He narrows his eyes. “You want me to catch you, don’t you?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You look away nervously. The plan never involved gaining real feelings for any of the marauders, yet here you were. Standing in your sleepwear after curfew with your heart racing in your chest at the mere sight of one of them. Though you try to deny it, you know deep down you’re crushing hard, and you know it will only end badly.

“I uh... I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m just on a little stroll back from a smoke that’s all,” you reply after a few seconds, your hands anxiously fiddling with one another.

He rolls his eyes. “Listen, I don’t know what your objective is or has been, but whatever it is it’s not going to happen.”

“Remus I-”

“Sirius, I understand, he would sleep with the giant squid if it had tits. But James, really? He may be more of an... active person than myself but he has far more feelings than you think.” He takes a step forward; he towers over you. You swear you can’t breathe. “You may have fooled them, but you don’t fool me. I can see right through you y/l/n and you’re sick.”

You move backward; he follows each step. “You... you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?”

Your back hits a wall, panic rises in you. Your eyes fall to his hands, and a bit of relief washes over you when you see he’s not holding his wand. But then another thought takes over. Is he going to hit you? When you look back up, he’s only inches away from you, his hazel eyes piercing down into yours. He places one of his hands on the wall next to your head. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, really. I’m sorry,” you mumble, your words genuine.

“So, what was your goal then? To shag all of us and take your pick of who’s best? Peter would’ve been far easier than James you know,” he replies.

“It was just a stupid idea, I don’t know. It didn’t mean anything deeper I swear.” You’re rambling now, the threat of tears evident in the burning of your eyes. You try your hardest to keep any from falling, you can’t cry in front of Remus.

He sighs. “You’re lucky Sirius is oblivious, and James is trusting. If they knew the truth, you’d have the whole school against you.”

“Wait, they don’t know?”

He rolls his eyes again. “Of course not. If they knew you’d be getting hexed almost all day every day.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I notice a lot more than people think. Did you honestly think no one saw you go up to our dorm with Sirius that night at the party? And did you honestly think none of us would notice James’s change in attitude? You think you know more than you actually do,” he explains.

For a few seconds, the two of you only stare at each other. You don’t know what to think. You should’ve known this would happen. Someone was going to catch on. You wish you had never done it. Any of it. Everything would be so much simpler if you’d simply stayed the quiet Ravenclaw girl who never interacted with the marauders. But you can’t go back, no matter how much you wish you could. You can only make it right moving forward.

“I’m sorry, truly Remus.” There’s so much more you want to say, but you can’t. You can’t fathom the words.

“If you’re truly sorry, stop. I won’t be the next pawn in your game,” he says, his voice slightly lower than before. You watch the way his eyes shift, the way he licks his lips, and moves his head down so he’s almost eye level with you. Your breath catches in your throat. “I suppose I pity you though because you and I both know this has become more than a game to you now.”

You turn your head, but he grabs your chin and forces you to look him in the eye.

“You fancy me.”

“I-”

“Don’t try to deny it. Like I said, I can see right through you.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s over now,” you whisper, a tear nearly escaping one of your eyes.

He inhales deeply and you notice his eyes trail over your body for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “You’re right. It is over now.”

He lets go of you and backs away and for the first time since encountering him tonight, you feel like you can breathe normally. You stay on the wall, silently catching your breath as he walks further down the hall. But just before he’s about to turn a corner, he looks back at you.

“Or perhaps it’s simply my turn to play with you. Oh, and that’s twenty points from Ravenclaw. Goodnight.”

You fall asleep with his words burning in the back of your mind, and an ache between your thighs.

~~~

After that night, everything is different. You try to avoid them all and go back to the way things were before, you really do. You scribble out the page in your journal with their names, you keep your head down in the halls, and you skip the parties they host. It’s Remus who’s begun playing. Somehow, he continues knowing where you are and appears at random times. Whether you’re studying in the library, and he just so happens to need a book from that section, or you’re out by the lake with your friends and he walks by. You know it’s intentional, but it still manages to leave you hot and bothered each time.

“I thought you said the plan was off?” Your friend says one particular day when the two of you are eating lunch.

You look at her, confused. “It is.”

“Then why has Lupin been staring at you this whole meal?”

Instinctively, you look across the Great Hall and immediately catch those all-too-familiar hazel eyes. He doesn’t look away, at least, not for a moment. He stares at you with no shame, and even from the distance you can sense something different from the look in his eyes. Before you can fully figure it out though, he turns his attention back to the other three marauders.

“Did you shag him?” Your friend asks.

“No, I told you what happened,” you answer, focusing your attention back on the food on your plate. “I wish he’d stop.”

Your friend laughs. “Nah, you don’t.”

You hate how she’s right.

~~~

Nearly two months have passed when you finally confront Remus.

You’re sitting in the astronomy tower, a cigarette between your lips, and a scowl on your face. You can’t take it any longer. Wasn’t he the one who told you off? Wasn’t he the one who told you to stop the games? He was. You know it. So, why has he kept it going? He had said that it was his turn, but that was many weeks ago. How long did he plan to keep this going? You let out a cloud of smoke, frustration taking over your body at the thoughts.

“How many points shall I take off tonight? Forty? Fifty?” You feel him sit next to you, but you refuse to look at him. “You haven’t been out after dark in a while though, I’ll give you that.”

“What do you want Lupin?” You ask, annoyed.

He chuckles. “What do any of us want really?”

You look at him with a straight face, hating the way butterflies take over your stomach at the sight of him so close to you. Despite the scars on his face, you find him more beautiful than any boy. More than James, even more than Sirius. There is something so extraordinary about Remus you can’t explain. You wish it would go away.

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” You question after taking another drag from the cigarette.

“I haven’t spoken to you in over a month, I don’t know what-”

“Yes, you know what I mean.” You cut him off. You exhale your last breath of smoke and throw the cigarette off the tower. “I’m trying to leave this all in the past and move on like you said but you’ve made it quite difficult.”

“Seems you don’t like the taste of your medicine love. It’s hard, isn’t it? Trying to avoid someone when they always seem to end up exactly where you are. It gets rather annoying, doesn’t it? Especially when you secretly enjoy it,” he replies.

Your eyes meet again and that familiar trouble to breathe begins. He’s looking at you in a way you don’t know how to feel about. It’s not like Sirius’s drunken stare or James’s needy stare. No. This one, though the same lustful, is far deeper.

“Just tell me what you want Remus,” you eventually say, your voice lower than before. “What do you want?”

“I want you to get out of my head. I want to look at you and feel nothing. I want everything to go back to how it was before you decided to fuck with my friends and me,” he answers.

You swear your heart stops for a few beats. “Then let all of that happen.”

“You think I haven’t tried?”

You stay silent.

“I never wanted this, any of it.”

You look down. “I know.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Merlin, I give up, you win y/n. You bloody win.”

You’re about to ask what he exactly means, but he acts faster. In the blink of an eye, his lips are on yours. You can’t grasp it at first. You’re kissing Remus Lupin; Remus Lupin is kissing you. The boy who unintentionally caught your heart is kissing you. It’s unbelievable, it’s undeniable, and it’s far from underrated. You don’t hesitate to kiss him back, even through your initial shock.

His hands cup your cheeks, his thumbs stroke your skin ever so gently. You wrap your arms around his neck, one of your hands toying with the hair on the back of his head. He’s a good kisser, very good. That’s why when he parts your lips, you protest.

“Why did you-”

“If we’re going to do this, you have to promise me it’s not a game anymore y/n.”

Your head is fuzzy from how intently he’s looking at you. “I promise Remus, that game has been over for a while.”

“You swear it?”

“I do. Do you?”

“Of course.” There are a few seconds of silence before he sighs, one of his fingers now playing with a piece of your hair. “We have to keep it secret.”

“I know,” you say.

He brushes the piece of hair behind your ear, the intimate gesture sending tingles throughout your body. “I don’t want it to be a quick shag either,” he adds.

“What do you want it to be then?”

The smile he gives you makes your stomach flip. “More.”

~~~

More from Remus Lupin is everything.

After that night, the two of you begin something you don’t exactly know how to name. You would call it a secret relationship, but the thought of that gives you a stomachache. The two of you don’t interact during the day, at least not where anyone else can see. He passes you in the hall as if you’re a stranger, but the second he catches you around a corner in an empty hallway he showers you with affection. And at night when the two of you sneak off, he touches you in ways you never thought possible.

He shows you so many new places in the castle you never knew of. Secret passages, secret rooms, all of it. You never question how he knows all of it, you only hold his hand tighter as he guides you. When he suggests a more secluded place to meet, you of course agree. Though, you never expect that place to be the shrieking shack.

“There’s no way you’re serious,” you say. The two of you are outside, near the Whomping Willow. You make sure to stay out of its reach. “The shrieking shack? That place is haunted, the ghosts don’t even go there because of how scary it is.”

“Obviously I’m not Sirius love, you only shagged him once,” he sarcastically replies, rolling his eyes to emphasize his joke.

“Remus.”

“The shrieking shack is not haunted, believe me, that’s only a silly rumor made so that people won’t go to it. Me, James, Sirius, and Peter go all the time. It has a bed, and given our activities I say we utilize that,” he explains.

You bite your lip. “Are you positive?”

He moves a bit closer to you and places a hand on your shoulder, leaning down so he’s at eye level with you. “You know I would never let anything hurt you, you can trust me.”

“Alright, but how are we supposed to get there so late? It’s in Hogsmeade,” you question.

He chuckles. “Haven’t you learned by now the marauders have many secret ways?”

“Yes, but we’re not in the castle right now how are we to- Remus don’t go any closer you’re going to get hurt you-” You pause, your mouth hung open as you watch the whomping willow go completely still. “How did you...”

“Secrets love, now come, it’s getting late,” he says, holding a hand out to you.

You don’t hesitate to take his hand and follow him into the tree, nothing else is said.

Surprisingly, the walk isn’t too long. It’s dark, gloomy, and a bit cold, but it’s not terrible. At the end of the tunnel, there’s a door. Something in Remus’s posture shifts, almost as if he’s anxious. You squeeze his hand to try to reassure him of whatever he needs, he gives you a smile through the dark that makes your cheeks warm.

The shrieking shack isn’t big, not at all. It’s a simple building with a few rooms and a short staircase. Remus brings the two of you to what you presume is the bedroom though the only indicator is a mattress, blanket, and pillow on the floor. There’s a small fireplace in the room as well, shockingly full of wood and some candles placed near the mattress. The entire shack is creaky and dusty, but you don’t mind. As long as there’s no ghosts, it’s perfect. Remus lets go of your hand and moves to start a fire. You sit down on the mattress and light the candles around.

“What do you guys use this place for?” You ask.

“It’s just a place we come to sometimes when we don’t want to be around other people,” he answers. His back is still turned to you, you could stare at it all day. “Sirius was the first one to discover it wasn’t haunted.”

“Oh? How did he find that out?”

“He’s always been the bravest out of us, though I think he just wanted another rule to break.”

You chuckle. “That sounds like him.”

He finally stands and turns to face you, a bright fire burning behind him. “You would know, you shagged him.”

“Oh, shut up,” you say as you slide off your shoes.

He begins to walk to you. “Can I ask you a question?”

“This context doesn’t seem good, but yes you can,” you reply.

“Be completely honest, out of the three of us, who’s the best?”

He’s standing right in front of you now. You look up at him, a coy smile on your lips, and begin to untie his shoelaces. “You are of course.”

“For some reason, I think your answer is biased,” he says with a laugh.

You trail your hands up his legs after he steps out of his sneakers, stopping once you reach his belt buckle. It quickly gets undone. “What would make you say that?”

He laughs again. “Just a hunch I guess.”

Your moment of control is taken fast when he pushes you down on the mattress, his lips attacking yours. It isn’t a lie though; he is the best. Unlike with Sirius and James, you share such deeper feelings for Remus. Each time he touches you, you practically melt into the palm of his hand. He’s caring. He’s gentle, but rough when need be. Though the two of you argue sometimes, it always is resolved with a hug, a kiss, or a shag. So, in the simplest of words, Remus Lupin is the perfect boy in every way.

All your clothes are discarded quickly, his too. He kisses you deeply as he uses his fingers on you. Sometimes you wonder where he’s learned all his skills from, but even thinking about him with another girl has started to make your stomach hurt. Instead, you focus on how good two of his fingers feel inside you. They’re so long, so slender. More than once in class you’ve been completely distracted by the sight of his hands, specifically his fingers, even more specifically when he’s wearing rings on them. They feel just as you imagine, extraordinary.

When you cum, you’re moaning a mess into his mouth, your body shaking. He milks every last bit of your orgasm out of you before stopping. You watch through heavy lids as he sucks his fingers clean of your cum, the sight makes you audibly groan.

“I need you,” you whisper, running one of your hands through his hair.

“Do you?” There’s something in the tone of his voice mixed with the way he’s looking at you that makes your heart ache in your chest.

You nod. “In so many ways Rem.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

He moves inside you slowly at first, but he finds a decent pace after a few minutes. Because of his height, you weren’t at all surprised at the size of his cock. It’s by far the biggest you’ve ever encountered and the best. Though sometimes it leaves you sore, it always leaves you in a daze of dopamine.

Remus struggles to keep his head at your level as he fucks you. He presses soft kisses to your forehead, one of his hands intertwined with yours. You’ve never felt such intimacy in your life, it almost makes tears form in your eyes.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he says, his voice shaky. “Even if it’s not true.”

“I’m yours, Rem, completely,” you reply. His hips meet yours harder, and you moan. “All yours I’m all yours.”

Neither of you lasts much longer than that.

In the aftermath as the two of you hold each other, he rests his head on your chest. You run your fingers through his hair softly, the sound of his breathing like music to your ears. It’s at this moment you realize just how deeply you care for him. You hate what you did with that silly plan, but you don’t think you’d change it. If ending up in this moment only came from the plan, you’d do it over a million times.

“Is this real?” Remus asks after some time.

You sigh and press a kiss to the top of his head. “Yes. This is real.”

And so, it is.

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starkwlkr · 1 year ago

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Hiii! okay maybe teen mathéo likes a girl so he could talk to charles about it and ask for advice a little father son moment would be cool.

numbers | charles leclerc

hello lovely anon! thanks for the request! for this imagine, I’m going to include mikey and demri schumacher. they are characters that belong to @cs55version from their mick series that i am absolutely in love with!!

I JUST STAY IN MY ROOM TOO LONG BUT I FINALLY HAVE A GIRLFRIEND AND SHE’S THE BOMB — numbers by tempered

While the media saw Ruby Leclerc as the loud, but funny child of Ferrari driver, Charles Leclerc, they sometimes forgot about Mathéo Leclerc, the shy and quiet boy. It wasn’t a bad thing (Mathéo’s exact words). The boy liked not being in the spotlight.

He enjoyed art museums and going to see musicals with his mother and grand-mère. But there were sometimes when the media did question whether or not he would follow in the footsteps of his father. From a young age, Mathéo decided not to pursue a career in formula 1 and his family respected that.

Even the kids at school would ask him when he would start karting. He would always answer with “I’m not going to be a driver. Ask my older sister.”

He grew tired of people at school always asking him about Ferrari, his father and uncle, asking for paddock passes. It was always the same people, people he never even talked to. But there was one day when a girl who had just moved to Monaco came up to him during lunch.

Mathéo’s usual friend, Robin, was sick so he remained home. Now it looked like Mathéo didn’t have any friends and sat alone during lunch.

“Hi. Is it okay if I sit here?” The girl asked, pointing to the chair across Mathéo.

“Yeah, it’s okay.” He replied then went back to eating his sandwich that his mother had made him.

“I’m Giselle.” The girl introduced herself.

“My name is Mathéo, but with an h in between the t and e. A lot of people forget about the h.” He explained.

“Oh, okay. Mine is with two l’s so it’s not like the supermodel’s name, you know the one that was married to Tom Brady?” She asked.

“I don’t know who Tom Brady is, but I know who Gisele Bündchen is. My maman had dinner with her last week.” He said casually. “Wait, you don’t have an accent.” He quickly noticed.

“I’m from America, but my mother’s side of the family is from here. My mom got a really good job offer so here we are,” Giselle explained. “My mom has about of an accent though. She was born here but left when she was ten I think.”

Mathéo had a crush on a girl before. Her name was Eloise. She was the sister of the most popular girl in school so when Eloise asked Mathéo out to the movies, the boy thought it was just some kind of prank.

Giselle seemed nice, she listened when Mathéo had something to say, laughed at his jokes when he made one and she didn’t know of Mathéo’s last name so at least he didn’t have to worry about that yet.

As the school day came to an end, he walked back home only to find Mikey and Demri Schumacher and his sister eating in the kitchen while his mother was on the phone talking.

“Hey, Théo! Missed you.” Demri ruffled his hair as he passed by her to get to the refrigerator.

“You can keep him if you want. I see him all the time.” Ruby teased.

“Maman! Ruby wants to give me away to the Schumacher’s!” Mathéo yelled. He ignored the laughs coming from then teenagers and grabbed a juice then walked out the kitchen.

“Ruby, what did I say about trying to sell your brother?” Y/n groaned from her spot in the sofa.

“Uncle Mick won’t mind having him around!”

“Hi, maman. Is papa around?” The fourteen year old boy asked shyly. He needed his father’s opinion on Giselle.

“He’s in our room, baby. He might be asleep, but you can go check.”

“Oh. I’ll let him sleep then. I’m going to my room.” Mathéo said. He knew how hard his father worked so he rather wait to have a conversation with him. He walked up the stairs to his room and closed the door behind him.

Y/n could see the defeated face on her boy. “Mom, I’m going to call you back. Bye.” She hung up the phone. She got up and walked to her and Charles’ room where he was sleeping peacefully on their bed. He had just gotten back from Belgium and he decided he wanted to have a nap before dinner.

“Charles, sweetheart,” Y/n gently shook his body to wake him up. Charles groaned as a response. “Mathéo wants to talk to you. I have a feeling it might be important.”

“What time is it?” He asked, still not opening his eyes.

“Almost dinner time so you have to get up.”

Charles sighed and sat up in his spot. “Where’s my boy?”

Mathéo was in his room working on his art project. It was a show box diorama of his favorite memory, which was the day of his birthday when all of his family from both sides made it to his party. As he was putting a toy birthday cake in his box, he heard a knock on his door.

“It’s open!” He said, still concentrated on his project. In came Charles with a tired face, but he didn’t care. His son needed him and he was here to listen.

“It looks very nice. Is that Uncle Arthur with frosting on his face?” Charles pointed at a paper drawing of the whole family. Arthur had been drawn with blue marker ‘smeared’ on his face to resemble the frosting of the cake that Charles had thrown at his face the day of the party.

“Yeah, it was kind of hard to find the right shade of blue but I made it work.” Mathéo said, not looking up from his work.

Charles nodded and walked over to the boy’s bed and sat down. “Maman told me you wanted to talk.”

Mathéo finally looked up and slowly turned his chair to face Charles. “But you’re tired. We can talk later-”

“Théo, I’m not tired. I’m okay, now tell me, is someone bothering you in school? Are your grades bad? If it’s about grades then I’m not mad because my grades were not good. Arthur and I used to skip class because of karting so-”

“It’s not about grades. I’m doing well in school. Promise you won’t laugh at me.” Mathéo said quietly.

“Why would I laugh? I’m your papa.”

“Just promise me.”

Charles held out his pinky finger. “I promise I won’t laugh,” Mathéo nodded and was about to speak but Charles stopped him. “No, you have to do the pinky promise. This is serious.” Mathéo chuckled and laced his pinky finger with his father’s then let go.

“Okay, so I was sitting in my usual table during lunch and then this girl comes up and sits with me. Robin wasn’t with me because he’s sick so I thought she felt bad for me because I was sitting alone. But turns out she’s new to Monaco and to the school. We talked and I have decided that she is the coolest girl I have ever met and she doesn’t know I’m your son!” The boy explained. “And she laughed at my jokes, I think I’m in love.”

Charles’ lips turned into a smile. His son had a crush.

“Well that’s a big word for you. She seems nice. What’s her name?” Charles asked.

“Giselle but with two l’s. Even her name is pretty. But I don’t want to seem like a creep and ask her out. How did you ask maman to go on a date with you?”

“Your maman was not an easy person to ask out. The first time I asked her, she said no and I respected her decision. A month later, she was in Monaco and we got lunch with a couple of friends and I asked her again and she said yes. I wanted to take her to dinner but she said that was too boring for a first date so we signed up for a cooking class to make pasta but it was in Italy so we went to Italy.” Charles explained. He was never going to forget that day.

“Why Italy? Does Monaco not having pasta classes?”

“They do, but your mother hadn’t been to Italy so I took her. It’s became a tradition now. On our anniversary, we go to the same cooking class and make pasta. You would think my cooking skills would improve by now, but at least we have maman to help.”

“Maybe I can take Giselle to a cooking class in Italy.” Mathéo suggested.

“How about we start with watching a movie in the local theater?”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #anon #inbox <3 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #baby leclerc series teen edition

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year ago

Text

The Danger Zone (Part 8) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.3k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Angst; Arguing/Fighting; Some Crying; Overprotective Family; Background Relationships; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You and Jake tell Bradley about the baby.

Series Master List

Master List

A.N. Two chapters in one week! Hope that you guys enjoy Bradley’s reaction!

A pin could have dropped in that moment and it would have sounded like a bomb went off in Maverick’s house. It was that silent.

Bradley’s face was slowly growing red with anger, though he didn’t open his mouth. Yet. After a brief staring contest with your brother, you pulled Jake further into the house. Bradley was burning holes into Jake’s head and Jake was returning the sharp look with a sense of defiance that was not going to be productive in the long run.

You glanced up at Emma, who was staring at her husband with concern, and then Maverick, who was looking between Rooster and Hangman, like he was waiting for one of them to jump at each other. Holding in your emotions and trying to keep up a face of calm despite the tension, you turned back to your brother.

“Bradley,” you started off with carefully, “you can stop glaring at Jake now.”

“So, the whole ‘nothing is going on between us’ was a big fat lie then?” Bradley asked rhetorically, turning to look at you.

“Maybe we were worried that you would be hostile to the news,” you commented in return, staring down your brother for a moment. When he scoffed at your answer, you added, “Clearly we were wrong.”

“Is this some kind of joke?” Bradley continued, causing you to purse your lips together.

“No, it’s not. It’s real.”

Bradley turned to Maverick, who turned to him with a rather stoic expression. Maverick glanced over at you and Jake, not judging but not necessarily overly supportive either, before turning back to Bradley. Frowning, Bradley turned back to you and Jake, who hadn’t moved to release your hand.

“And when the hell did this start?”

“Around the time that you guys got back from your last deployment,” you lied, taking the lead on the questions.

“You’ve been hiding this for five months?”

“More or less.”

“More or less?” Bradley repeated with an attitude.

“Should we start dinner then?” Emma cut in, grabbing her husband’s shoulder with a sharp squeeze. “Before it gets cold?”

“Yes,” you agreed with Emma.

“Great,” she replied, walking around and quickly grabbing all of the knives off of the table in quick succession. “We won’t be needing these today.”

The five of you sat down at the table and passed around dinner. Rooster continued to glare at Jake and Jake was very happy to return the glare. Maverick kept an eye on them as he was sitting in between them, but you weren’t fully convinced that nothing would happen.

Jake and Bradley had a history of being volatile around each other, and you just raised the stakes. And you were only going to raise them even higher.

“Aren’t you going to ask us how we met, Brad?” you questioned, causing your brother to turn to shoot you a look.

“Of all of my teammates, of all of my squads, of all the guys in the fucking world, you had to pick him?” Bradley scoffed, gesturing to Jake, who narrowed his eyes at Rooster’s comment. “The only one that I specifically told you to stay away from.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” you replied, returning your brother’s look.

“Did you ever think that maybe there was a reason why I told you to stay away from him?”

“Am I not allowed to make my own decisions? Am I not allowed to have my own opinions on people?” you scoffed, leaning forward in your seat. “And just because someone has a problem with you, that doesn’t mean that they have a problem with me too.”

“Fine, then I’ll ask you, Seresin,” Bradley stated, turning to Jake, “Why, out of all of the girls in Miramar, were you going after my sister?”

“Why did you go after Emma?” Jake asked rhetorically. “We found each other attractive and we had some stuff in common.”

“What the hell could you possibly have in common?”

“We both think that you’re overreacting right now, to start off with,” Jake replied, causing Maverick to sigh and reach for his beer.

“And what’s your favorite trait of my sister?” Bradley asked, narrowing his eyes. “Since you know her so well.”

“She takes what life throws at her and keeps moving forward with her chin up. She doesn’t let anyone or anything slow her down for too long.”

Emma nodded, quite honestly looking impressed with Jake’s answer, while Bradley only continued to glare at Jake. You quietly let your heart flutter a bit in your chest but you kept your gaze on the ground. Maverick, glancing between Jake and Bradley, decided to take the lead for a moment.

“When did you two actually meet and get together then?”

“We met for the first time at Brad and Emma’s wedding,” you started off with, sharing a look with Jake as you reached for your water. “But we didn’t really talk too much.” It wasn’t too big of a lie, but maybe a stretch of the truth. “Then we talked a lot the night that you guys came back from your last deployment and started going out a little while after that.”

“Well, I have to ask,” Rooster drawled sarcastically, “who made the first move?”

“I did,” you replied simply.

“You did?” Bradley and Maverick asked at the same time, both looking surprised.

“Yes.”

“You did?” Bradley repeated.

“Are you going deaf?” you countered, straightening up more. “Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“Bradley,” Emma sighed, rubbing her face.

“Because I was attracted to him,” you explained, not quite having the courage to look over at Jake while you spoke. “Is that a crime?”

“No, it’s not,” Emma replied to your defense.

“It’s a concern,” Bradley stated, earning a look from his wife.

“Anyways,” you cut in, “we’re dating and we’re going to move in together.”

You hoped that breaking it piece by piece would help ease Bradley’s reaction and avoid an explosion. And you really just hoped that your calculations weren’t too far off.

“You’re moving—do you even know him!?” Bradley snapped, causing you to roll your eyes at him and lean back in your seat. “You can’t just move in with a guy you just met!”

“We’ve known each other for over a year and we’ve been dating for a few months,” you replied calmly. “It’s not like we’re teenagers who don’t know what we’re doing.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Yes,” you snapped back defensively.

“Who’s apartment?” Maverick asked, causing you to turn to him.

“Jake’s for now,” you stated, glancing at Jake from the corner of your eye.

“Why?” Bradley scoffed.

“It’s nicer and my lease is up first.”

“Why the rush?” Bradley pressed on, feeling that something was off with the whole situation.

“When you know, you know,” you replied, dodging the question.

“That's a bullshit answer.”

“It’s still an answer,” you scoffed right back at your brother.

“Who’s idea was that then? The whole moving in together one?”

“Mine,” Jake answered honestly.

“Of course, it was,” Bradley replied, finding some new ammunition against Jake. “And why did you—the guy who told me at Coyote’s bachelor party that he wasn’t the type to settle down and have the ‘white picket fence’ life—suggest that the two of you should move in together after dating for five months?”

“Bradley,” you snapped, though it lacked substantial force behind it.

You weren’t sure if the comment that Bradley was referring to actually came out of Jake’s mouth or if he actually meant it, but either way it was taking you a moment to process. You did the math and remembered that Coyote’s bachelor party was during the time where you were ignoring Jake. Maybe that had a role in it? But you didn’t want to dwell on it in front of your brother and Mav. You had to stay focused.

“And how long was your most serious relationship again, Hangman? Last you told me, it wasn’t even a year.”

“Stop being a dick, Bradley,” you replied, this time with more force.

“Honestly, do you really think that this is going to last?” Bradley directed at you, causing you to narrow your eyes. “Where do you see this relationship actually going?”

“Why don’t you just wait and see, Rooster?” Jake drawled, drawing Bradley’s glare to him. “Because I’m pretty sure that she can figure out what’s right for her.”

“Or what’s right for you?” Bradley countered. “Because those are two different things, Seresin.”

“Bradley,” Emma called, trying to ease the tension a bit more, “let her make her own choices. You telling her that it’s a bad idea isn’t going to lead to the result that you want.”

“Thank you, Emma,” Jake spoke up, causing Bradley to roll his eyes dramatically.

“You seriously think that you see a long-term future with him? Like marriage? Kids? All of that shit?” Bradley questioned you again.

“Yes, I do,” you spoke so quietly that no one really heard you.

“What?”

“Yes, I do,” you said louder despite the fact that your leg was starting to nervously bounce.

“You’re serious?” Bradley demanded of you, almost scoffing in disbelief. “You didn’t marry Connor and you were with him for five years and you’re telling me that you’ve spent what? A couple of months with Hangman? And you can already see a long-term future with him? That you’re already moving in with him? Really?”

“Bradley,” Emma warned him.

“You’re such a fucking asshole!” you snapped, getting to your feet.

Maverick called your name, trying to keep the peace, but you ignored him. Tossing your napkin down onto the table with a huff, you rounded on your brother.

“And you wonder why I don’t tell you shit! Stop acting like you’re a goddamn saint, Bradley! You’re not! You never have been! I’m not the only one who can mess up! We’re both screw ups! We’re both fucked in the head! And Mom would be so proud of us and how we turned out, wouldn’t she!?”

Letting the tension roll off of your shoulders, you slowly sank down into your seat, the reality of your words hitting you. Not because you felt bad about what you yelled at your brother, but because of where your thoughts suddenly landed.

Staring down at your hands for a second, you tried to discreetly wipe the tears that leaked from your eye before they got too far. Rubbing a tear between your finger and thumb, you felt Jake’s hand on your thigh, silently reminding you that he was there.

You hadn’t really dwelled on how your mom would have reacted to the news about the baby, if she was still alive. You didn’t let yourself, actually.

After your mom died and definitely after Bradley left you behind with Maverick while he figured out his own life, you really buried all of that. You didn’t let yourself think about what your mom would have said or thought in these situations. You locked it all up and buried the key.

She would have had an opinion, certainly. She probably would have had some sharp words with a sweet Southern coating that would have struck far more fear into Jake than anything that Bradley could throw at him. But she was the type to give a hug out as quickly as a threat, so you assumed that all would have been forgiven once she knew he was serious.

And you realized with a shaking hand that you desperately wanted your mom there with you. She didn’t even get to see you in a prom dress or have a crush, for hell’s sake.

Sharing a glance with Jake, who looked concerned for you, you slowly turned back to Bradley. Your brother’s anger was gone for now, his expression mirroring Jake’s own concerned one. But you had a feeling that you would see the anger slowly seep into his gaze again shortly.

“You want to know what’s really going on?” you asked, staring down at your hands.

“Of course, I do,” Bradley replied immediately.

“Alright,” you began. Picking up your head, you locked eyes with your brother. “I’m pregnant.”

“You . . .” Bradley paused, looking like his brain short circuited for a moment. “You’re . . .”

“Yes,” you confirmed, nodding slowly.

You got up from the table and grabbed your purse. Rifling around, you pulled out your ultrasound photo and moved to hand it over to Bradley. He took it carefully, still stunned, and when he saw your name stamped in the margin of the photo, he knew that it was true.

It wasn’t a joke—you were pregnant with Jake’s baby.

You held your breath a bit, waiting for him to react and gripped the back of the seat tightly as you stayed standing. You could also see Maverick and Jake on the edges of their seats, waiting for his reaction. Bradley silently held out the ultrasound photo to Emma, who took it from him carefully, before turning back to Jake.

And then you saw the flash.

“You son of a bitch!” Bradley roared, leaping to his feet.

Chairs clattered and scratched against the floor as Jake and Maverick jumped to their feet too. Emma was yelling after her husband and you were calling after Jake, though when you moved to grab him, Emma pulled you back a step. Maverick put himself in between Bradley and Jake, keeping them separated with a hand on each of their chests.

Rooster was boiling with rage, looking madder than a bull, and Jake appeared firm in the fact that he wasn’t going to back down. Maverick certainly had his work cut out for him.

“You got my little sister pregnant, Seresin!?”

“And your little tantrum doesn’t change that!”

“I don’t care, you fucking bastard!”

“Bradley, stop!”

“Do you even love her!?” Bradley demanded from Jake. “Do you even care about her!?”

“Of course, I care about her!”

“Then why did you get her pregnant!?”

“I didn’t mean to do it, it was just something that happened!”

“Bradley, stop it!” you shouted at your brother. “Jake!”

“Are you even going to stay around to meet the kid or are you going to leave them hanging?”

“Bradley!”

“Both of you need to sit down now,” Maverick snapped, somehow managing to hold them apart. “You’re stressing her out!”

“He’s the one stressing her out!” Jake scoffed, glaring at Bradley. “She’s been worried about you reacting like a toddler for weeks!”

“Jake!”

“She’s stressed because you knocked her up, you moron!”

“Bradley, stop it!”

“Sit down!” Maverick snapped, but neither Bradley nor Jake seemed to be willing to back down.

“You’re not her fucking protector! She’s an adult, Rooster, for fuck’s sake!”

“I know her and I know that I’ll be the one consoling her when your ass gets cold feet, Seresin!”

“ENOUGH!”

The argument stopped immediately and everyone turned to where Emma was standing at the other end of the table. She certainly wasn’t the most imposing woman, but she had the ability to make her voice thunder across the room. And if her voice didn’t strike fear in them, her glare definitely did.

“Now!”

Though he didn’t look happy about it, Bradley stepped back from Maverick and begrudgingly retook his seat. When Jake didn’t move from where he was standing, Emma pointed aggressively at his chair and wore an expression that screamed ‘try me bitch.’ Letting out a quiet mutter, Jake sat back down in his chair.

“Now, the two of you are going to sit down and have a conversation like adults because you’re two grown ass men and not children.” Turning to Rooster first, Emma asked, “Is your support for your sister or your niece or nephew going to change depending on who the baby’s dad is?”

“Of course not,” Rooster replied defensively. “In this case, it’s only increasing it actually.”

“And Hangman, are you going to let what Bradley thinks about you change how you feel about her or the baby?”

“Absolutely not,” Jake stated, staring down Rooster with a challenging expression.

“Good, so you can both agree that your first priority is making sure that she and the baby are happy and healthy?” With sharp nods from Jake and Bradley, Emma continued, “Good. Now figure your shit out like adults.”

“Thank you,” you breathed out, pulling her in for a tight hug that she quickly returned.

“Anytime.”

Emma gave you a tight hug, shooting both Bradley and Jake a look to be on their best behavior. Jake eventually let out a quiet chuckle as he turned back to Rooster.

“Guess we know who wears the pants in your relationship,” Jake commented with a smirk, causing Maverick to shake his head.

“I’d look to your right there, Hangman.”

Jake turned his head to find you shooting him a sharp look. Emma laughed to herself when Jake suddenly appeared sheepish about his comment.

Rooster rolled his eyes again and looked at his hands, actually taking the time to process the news. He turned to share a look with Maverick before looking over at you, to find that you were looking at him with a quietly terrified expression as you clung to Emma for a moment. Letting out a breath, he slowly got to his feet. He walked around the table towards you, completely ignoring Jake, and stopped a few steps away from you.

Emma released you and moved to put herself in between Bradley and Jake, just in case. Bradley gave you a moment before he swallowed his annoyance and his pride and focused on your happiness for the first time since he found out about the whole situation. Though he also didn’t want to completely lie and pretend like he was overjoyed with the news.

“The storage unit,” Bradley began, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“What about it?”

“It has the old paintings that Mom made,” Bradley continued, earning a slow nod in return from you. “From our old nursery.”

“I remember,” you agreed quietly. “I triple wrapped them myself so that they’d be preserved.”

“Did you want them? For you and . . . your baby?” Bradley offered after a few more moments of silence and tension.

You nodded slowly, starting to tear up again, when Bradley reached forward. Pulling you into a hug, Bradley rested his head on top of your own as you let out a few tears into his shirt. It reminded him of when you were little and he’d comfort you when a storm struck or when you were scared for your mom. He gave you a squeeze that you returned silently.

“You’re going to be a mom,” he replied quietly.

“You’re going to be an uncle,” you returned in the same tone.

“You know I’m here if you need anything. Emma too. We’re both here for you and the baby. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I’m not.”

Bradley opened his mouth, but when he saw Emma’s look, he closed it. While your face was still tucked into Bradley’s shoulder, he looked over at where Jake was still sitting at the table. Did Jake look thrilled? No, definitely not. But he didn’t look completely irate when he met Bradley’s gaze. Bradley, however, did not hide the fact that he still wanted to punch Jake in the face for what he did.

“Whatever you need,” Bradley repeated as he and Jake glared at each other.

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sunsh1n3s · 10 months ago

Note

okay so what if don takes reader on a night boat ride and then he kisses her? just like joe did with joyce in the movie?

idk i feel like he’d be so shy but yet so cute… like imagine him asking her out, he’d be so blushy 🫠

— lovely night. ( don hume x reader )

a.n. i love this i wanted to write this before you asked i wasn’t sure if anyone would want that. i’m so glad you asked for it.

contains. swearing? who knows. fem!reader.

don walked down the sidewalk, his hands stuffed in his jacket as the day was coming to an end. he had gotten the news he made it on the rowing team, and he was overjoyed. what he didn’t enjoy was the walk back to his temporary home in the cold, slightly intoxicated.

in front of him came a face so familiar, so beautiful. “y/n, why are you out alone?” he greeted. she looked at him, eyes blotchy and nose red from the chill. “hey what’s up?” he asked, placing a hand on her arm.

“stupid test. bombed it and parents are disappointed.” she mumbled under her breath. he knew little about her family, they were old partners in class; she got him to speak more than anyone in the school, it took her a while. because of that class, he was lucky to be her acquaintance.

whenever he spoke to her, he was a nervous mess. but the sight of her distraught stopped it all, he only worried for her emotions.

“the test sucked and he prepared us terribly for it. i didn’t do well either, y/n.” he assured, his eyes searching hers. “don’t cry. you’re too pretty to cry. hell- you’re even pretty when you cry.” he spoke, wiping her tears and pulling her into a hug. his face was red, and he couldn’t blame the cold once she saw his blush.

now that her tears stopped and she smiled slightly, he became nervous again. “do you- would you like me to walk you home?” he asked, tense now and red. y/n laughed a little and wiped her stray tears, “that’d be much appreciated.” she accepted.

and so they walked, side by side through the cold. “i heard results for the rowing team came out, did you get a spot?” she asked. don smiled and nodded, “stroke.” he answered. y/n smiled wide, “you did it don.” she said, bumping her elbow with his. “i knew you’d get a spot, you could hardly grip a pencil or focus on our labs. i had to do all the work.” she joked, making him chuckle.

“to pay you back for all your work, would you like to go on a boat ride?” he asked, looking at her. “now?” she asked, looking behind them as they walked away from the direction of the place he was always at. “oh- no not tonight no, we-we can go another night. if you’re free that is- or interested.” he rambled.

don stopped once she placed her hand on his arm, “i’d love to. i’m free tomorrow.” she agreed. he smiled, “tomorrow it is.” he said. small smiles stayed on their faces while they made it to y/n’s dorm.

“goodnight don, meet you here tonight?” she asked, he nodded and she smiled. she kissed his cheek and headed inside, leaving the boy blushing like crazy.

the evening came around, don waited outside the dorm for y/n. he held a small bouquet of flowers for her. girls passed with smiles, some even asked who he was there for.

he repeated her name so many times, that when she stood in front of him, nothing came to mind. as always, he was speechless at her beauty. “flowers for you.” he offered. she took them gently with a wide smile, “don you didn’t have to. thank you.” she said and smiled up at him. he blushed once again and started to walk. y/n followed as they made their way towards where he spent almost all of his time.

they spoke on whatever came to mind that night, either family, future, don’s rowing, upcoming events, whatever it was; they enjoyed it. everything y/n shared made don admire her more and more. from the way she smiled to the way she fidgeted with a leaf on the flowers. every little trait of hers was something so admirable.

they arrived and don was given a two-seater boat from george, he thanked him quietly as george watched the two with care. y/n greeted him and followed don to the water. she watched in awe as he carried it with ease, she noticed his muscles through his sleeves and the care he had for the boat. she helped with the oars, leaving the flowers with george. once don set up the oars, he stood with his hand out, "you first." he offered. y/n took his hand but stood there nervously, "what if the boat flips?" she asked. he let out a small laugh, making her smile at him through her nerves. "i'm serious." she backed up her claim. "it won't flip, y/n." he assured.

sighing, she gripped his hand as she slowly got into the boat, then sat down as quick as she could. don followed and got in, grabbing the oars and rowing them from the place.

he watched her watch the area around them, in awe at the sunset around the small lake; he blushed when she looked at him with soft smiles. after a while, don stopped rowing so he could speak to her. "you want to try?" he asked, moving a bit so she could move next to him. he watched as y/n contemplated it, "sure." she agreed and moved close to him, gripping his knee and arm as the boat moved with every shift she made. he chuckled at it and helped her relax once she was next to him.

y/n grabbed the oars and copied his movements, don's eyebrows raised in surprise as the glided through the water slightly. they didn't move too much, but it was enough to where he was impressed. "who taught you how to row? or at least slightly row." he asked, placing his hands over hers hesitantly to help them move more. "my brother, it was his sport when he was around my age. he taught me but there's no women's team yet and i'm too busy to master it." y/n spoke. don smiled softly at the glimpse into her life, "maybe you could lead a whole team of girls." he suggested, smiling at her.

"maybe." she replied, smiling at him.

the boat slowed as they stopped focusing on moving it. don's face close to hers made them both go red. y/n eyes gave him the answer he needed as she glanced from his eyes to lips. he leaned in slowly and kissed her gently, y/n returned the kiss and he let the oars go to hold her.

they pulled apart with smiles on their faces, y/n gave him a small kiss again. don fixed her hair and admired her beauty. "we should probably head back." y/n spoke, noticing how it had gotten darker. they both laughed softly and don nodded, "probably. hang on." he agreed, he turned the boat and decided to mess with y/n. he rowed at a faster speed, listening to her laugh and look at him with a slight amount of fear in her eyes. "holy shit, don!" she exclaimed, making him laugh. "i told you to hang on." he said once they slowed, she rolled her eyes with a smile. "didn't think you'd go pro rower with me." she teased.

the night ended with them walking back to y/n's place. don held her hand as she held her flowers. "thank you for a lovely night." she thanked once they stopped at her dorm. "always." he answered, looking down at her with admiration. y/n kissed him again, this time longer and less nervous. don returned it, yet he was more nervous.

they let go of each other for the night and don watched as she went in, waving goodnight to him. he waved back and once she was gone, he turned to let out a big exhale with a smile on his face. how lucky he was.

#don hume x reader #don hume x fem!reader #don hume imagine #don hume fanfic #jack mulhern #don hume #j’s imagines

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hunieday · 7 months ago

Text

Green Bubble - Shuffle unit Event Story Translation

Please note that I am not a professional translator and I'm only doing this to share the side materials to those who cannot access them, if you notice any mistakes please let me know nicely. Enjoy!

Rokuya Nagi: HIII, everyone! Have you tried "GREEN BUBBLE" yet?

Yotsuba Tamaki: It's us! We are "GREEN BUBBLE"!

Isumi Haruka: It is! right!

Kujo Tenn: That’s right.

Kujo Tenn: "GREEN BUBBLE" is the new product from "Jyuurokugumi" as well as our unit name.

Rokuya Nagi: Yes! "GREEN BUBBLE"!

Yotsuba Tamaki: Pop! Pop! Pop!

Kujo Tenn: What are you doing.

Yotsuba Tamaki: It's the bubble popping dance!

Rokuya Nagi: OH! Pop! Pop!

Yotsuba Tamaki: Ready, everyone~!

Isumi Haruka: Huh!? Pop...

Kujo Tenn: Excuse me. Can we proceed properly?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Oh, yes...

Kujo Tenn: It's a wonderful new product as well as an introduction to our unit, so I'd like to do it properly.

Isumi Haruka: See, we got scolded! I was gonna do it properly too!

Rokuya Nagi: OH! We're not fooling around! It's a wonderful performance! Let's do it together!

Rokuya Nagi: 3, 2, 1...

GREEN BUBBLE: Pop! Pop! Pop!

Isumi Haruka: Wow... Kujo Tenn joined in too...

Yotsuba Tamaki: Don’t you know? Tenn-Tenn’s the kind of character who'd join in stuff like this more than you think he would.

Kujo Tenn: Wait, Yotsuba-san, don't lean your arm on my shoulder.

Yotsuba Tamaki: What about my chin?

Kujo Tenn: Your face is close, too close.

Isumi Haruka: Huh!? Aren't you guys too close!? Is this how it is between you two!?

Yotsuba Tamaki: That's right.

Isumi Haruka: Awesome...

Kujo Tenn: What do you mean awesome?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Isumin, won’t it be cool if you and Nagicchi got close too?

Isumi Haruka: ...! T-that's true, but I heard he might look friendly, but actually be quite closed off.

Rokuya Nagi: OH... Who on earth told you that? That’s a huge misunderstanding.

Isumi Haruka: Um... an acquaintance of mine...

Rokuya Nagi: Well that acquaintance of yours met me in the worst possible way and doesn’t wanna listen to what I want to say.

Rokuya Nagi: The door to my heart in front of you, Isumi-shi, is wide open. Please, come on in.

Isumi Haruka: Alright, well... I'm intruding.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Isumin is inside Nagi's heart right now.

Isumi Haruka: Maybe, yeah...?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Ha. What's it like?

Isumi Haruka: What's it like!? What’s it like uh, um...!? How am I even supposed to answer that!?

Isumi Haruka: It's……uh….. it... it smells nice...?

Yotsuba Tamaki: ...huh...

Rokuya Nagi: ...OH...

Isumi Haruka:.... Stop acting like I bombed a joke!!

Kujo Tenn: Moving on, it's the "8th anniversary! Four Thanks Project!”

Isumi Haruka: Wait, hold on...!

Kujo Tenn: As part of the limited-time unit formation celebration, the "Ask This and That!?" edition.

Kujo Tenn: Let’s get the "GREEN BUBBLE" version started.

Kujo Tenn: Everyone, please support us! Don't let the other units sway you.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Because we're the best, right!?

Rokuya Nagi: Yes! It's really, totally lonely to be separated from the other IDOLiSH7 members, but...

Yotsuba Tamaki: I'm here!

Rokuya Nagi: Tamaki! I love you!

Kujo Tenn: Don't get too cozy. I'm a member now too.

Yotsuba Tamaki: I love you!

Rokuya Nagi: I LOVE YOU!

Kujo Tenn: What about you, Isumi-san?

Isumi Haruka: ...I don't really understand that but!

Isumi Haruka: I hope you love me! Love us! Love this unit, and love "GREEN BUBBLE"!

Kujo Tenn & Yotsuba Tamaki & Rokuya Nagi: Yay!!

Isumi Haruka: W-was that okay? Is it alright?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Don’t worry, it was alright! So cool!

Rokuya Nagi: It was cool!

Kujo Tenn: Well then, let’s read what the staff have to say...

Isumi Haruka: He-... wait! You bastard didn’t tell me your impression yet.

Kujo Tenn: Bastard?

Isumi Haruka: Ah. sorry... your impression, Kujo-san...

Kujo Tenn: It was cool. Your straightforward message opened the door to my heart too.

Rokuya Nagi: OH...! You used the door to your heart! Excellent utilization!

Isumi Haruka: Kujo Tenn said I was cool...

Kujo Tenn: Are you embarrassed?

Isumi Haruka: No. It feels great...

Kujo Tenn: Ah, I see.

Isumi Haruka: I made Kujo Tenn say I was cool...

Kujo Tenn: You’d be cute if you blushed because of me too.

Yotsuba Tamaki: It’s true. Nagicchi you smell nice.

Rokuya Nagi: Tamaki smells nice too! Hm... Is this vanilla?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Bingo! I licked some vanilla extract.

Isumi Haruka: Why!?

Kujo Tenn: You're not supposed to lick it, you know!?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Mikki was trying to make something, and it was on the table.

Yotsuba Tamaki: He drops some on the palm of his hand like this, but it's not that sweet. I fall for it every time.

Isumi Haruka: That's true! His hands smell like vanilla!

Yotsuba Tamaki: Sou-chan finds out every time I do this.

Kujo Tenn: Do you get scolded?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Used to.

Rokuya Nagi: And now?

Yotsuba Tamaki: He says it’s kinda soothing.

Kujo Tenn: You've grown stronger, Osaka-san...

Isumi Haruka: But this might be good when you're hungry.

Yotsuba Tamaki: You turn it into a trend amongst ZOOL.

Isumi Haruka: Got it. I’ll make it a trend within the group first, then make it go viral.

Yotsuba Tamaki: You better credit me when it goes viral.

Kujo Tenn: Smart move.

Rokuya Nagi: Please make my fragrance a trend after that.

Isumi Haruka: Impossible, it sounds too expensive!

Rokuya Nagi: No, no. It's reasonably priced.

Kujo Tenn: I don't think it's all that out of reach. It's a collaboration perfume with Kokona-chan.

Yotsuba Tamaki: How do you know that, Tenntenn!?

Kujo Tenn: Just a little bit of knowledge.

Rokuya Nagi: Welcome to my world.

Isumi Haruka: Somehow we seem to be getting along mysteriously well?! aren't we!

Kujo Tenn: That's a fitting response. Actually, we received a question from the staff.

Kujo Tenn: "Do you guys get along well?"

Isumi Haruka: Perfect timing!

Yotsuba Tamaki: We do!

Rokuya Nagi: We're friends!

Kujo Tenn: We're get along well. Let's continue with the "Ask This and That!?" shuffle talk.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Yes! Then, let's ask other questions!

Kujo Tenn: Yes.

Rokuya Nagi: Yay!

Isumi Haruka: Yeah.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Oh! I’m your MC, Yotsuba Tamaki!

Isumi Haruka: What are you laughing at. Can you even do it properly?

Yotsuba Tamaki: I can! Everyone! Cheer me on!

Rokuya Nagi: Tamaki, fight!

Kujo Tenn: Do your best!

Yotsuba Tamaki: Alright! So who's up first? Isumin?

Isumi Haruka: Huh!? You’re the one who chooses!?

Yotsuba Tamaki: I'm the MC so I'm the king, right!?

Isumi Haruka: That’s not how it works!?

Kujo Tenn: A dangerous person is taking the initiative.

Yotsuba Tamaki: You don’t get it! Maybe that person’s nervous! What should I do, Nagi!?

Rokuya Nagi: Relax, it's okay. Just face that camera and give us some fan service.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Huh!? Fan service!?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Yay!

Yotsuba Tamaki: Wink!

Rokuya Nagi: Wow! So cool!

Yotsuba Tamaki: I calmed down for some reason...

Isumi Haruka: Doing fan service calms you down.

Kujo Tenn: As expected of an idol. That was splendid.

Rokuya Nagi: Isumi-shi, did a question come to your mind right now?

Isumi Haruka: Um, n... not yet!?

Rokuya Nagi: Well then, may I ask a question?

Kujo Tenn: Oh, clever.

Isumi Haruka: You’re so kind!

Yotsuba Tamaki: Nagicchi, you're so mature!!

Rokuya Nagi: Fufufu. Yes. Mitsuki gave me a secret mission yesterday.

Yotsuba Tamaki: What's that!? Did Mikki say something to you?

Rokuya Nagi: Yes.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Try saying it Mikki-style!

Rokuya Nagi: OK.

Rokuya Nagi: Listen, Nagi.

Kujo Tenn: Are unreasonable requests the norm in Ainana?

Isumi Haruka: Scary...

Rokuya Nagi: You guys are the only shuffle units that consists of only teenagers.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Oh, he’s right!

Isumi Haruka: Seriously! Kujo-san, did you notice?!

Kujo Tenn: I sure did.

Rokuya Nagi: You’re the oldest in that group of teenagers, so you gotta be the best brother.

Rokuya Nagi: You gotta protect everyone and be a good leader!

Yotsuba Tamaki: Leader! Nagicchi, you're the leader!? So that's why you supported me!

Rokuya Nagi: Yes! As long as everyone is okay with it, I'll be the leader of this unit!

Yotsuba Tamaki: That's totally fine right?!

Isumi Haruka: Yeah! Izumi's brother is so kind too!

Kujo Tenn: Yes, that's right. We’ll be in your care, Rokuya-san.

Rokuya Nagi: Thanks!

Rokuya Nagi: So if I'm the leader, then I'm practically a king...

Isumi Haruka: Hm!? I heard that line somewhere before!?

Kujo Tenn: You're also a dangerous person.

Yotsuba Tamaki: I know this one! You usurped me!!

Rokuya Nagi: Alright! Let's do it! Please answer this upcoming question!

Rokuya Nagi: Which idol, other than the members of your own group, would respond to your rabbit chat right away?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Other than our own group... You mean other than the members of this unit, right? Not IDOLiSH7?

Isumi Haruka: So, other than… the members of ŹOOḼ!?

Kujo Tenn: You mean someone from another idol group than TRIGGER?

Rokuya Nagi: Yes.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Sounds interesting! I wonder who would respond immediately!?

Isumi Haruka: Huh? You mean we’re gonna text someone right here and now!?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Yes yes! Other than members of our own groups!

Isumi Haruka: Huhhh...?

Kujo Tenn: ...

Yotsuba Tamaki: What’s up with you two, why so serious? I’m sure there's at least one guy who’d respond, right?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Especially Tenntenn, he's a guaranteed winner, right!? Anyone would be happy to get a rabbichat from you!

Kujo Tenn: Too risky. It's dangerous precisely because they'd be happy. ...But well, understood.

Isumi Haruka: Understood means you figured it out? Huh!? Who?

Kujo Tenn: It's a secret. Have you decided?

Isumi Haruka: Have I...

Isumi Haruka: There's only one person, do you think they’d respond..?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Huh? Why are you asking me? Oh...! Ah…

Isumi Haruka: Yotsuba, did you want to text them?

Yotsuba Tamaki: No, they're from my group. It's fine, I'll give it to Isumin.

Isumi Haruka: Okay, then I'll take this one.

Yotsuba Tamaki: "Take this one", that’s hilarious. They’re probably gonna reply now.

Isumi Haruka: Awesome!

Rokuya Nagi: Oh... It's a private conversation...

Kujo Tenn: I think I know who Isumi-san is referring to.

Yotsuba Tamaki: What should I do... Oh, Tenntenn.

Kujo Tenn: What?

Yotsuba Tamaki: ...Is the big guy working right now?

Kujo Tenn: .........The big guy is working right now.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Oh, too bad!

Isumi Haruka: I get why you’re talking like that but... who could it be...?

Rokuya Nagi: The big guy might be available. He mentioned that the shoot was interrupted due to rain earlier.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Huh? How do you know?

Rokuya Nagi: He just sent me a photo a moment ago. It's a late-blooming cherry blossom.

Isumi Haruka: Cherry blossoms...

Kujo Tenn: Ah... Thank you very much for your help that day.

Rokuya Nagi: Likewise. I was able to witness your wonderful stage.

Rokuya Nagi: It’s a memory I will cherish forever. Thank you very much.

Kujo Tenn: It's an honor. I'm genuinely happy from the bottom of my heart.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Isumin, you probably don't know. Nagi helped a lot with the "Zero" musical.

Rokuya Nagi: I didn't do anything. We just talked about memories.

Rokuya Nagi: The big guy turned those memories into a magnificent performance and created an unprecedented piece of art.

Kujo Tenn: I’m glad to hear that... I’m sure Ryuu will be delighted to hear that too.

Yotsuba Tamaki: You just said his name.

Kujo Tenn: Ah, sorry.

Yotsuba Tamaki: It was so obvious. Well then, should I try sending a rabbichat to the big guy since we might get an answer?

Isumi Haruka: Doesn't that ruin the surprise? You should go for someone else.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Nah, the person Isumin’s targeting ain’t really a surprise anymore, right?

Kujo Tenn: I don’t think you’d be able to guess who I’m choosing.

Yotsuba Tamaki: It’s definitely the first person.

Isumi Haruka: Who did you choose? Isn't it that person?

Rokuya Nagi: If it's that person, I think they'll respond right away.

Kujo Tenn: I think they’re quite different from who you all are imagining.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Huh!? Who!?

Rokuya Nagi: OH! The person I’m imagining is definitely waiting for a chat from Kujo-shi!

Kujo Tenn: Sorry, but there are plenty of people waiting for a rabbichat from me.

Yotsuba Tamaki: There it is! The little devil!

Kujo Tenn: Can I send it now?

Rokuya Nagi: Please go ahead.

Isumi Haruka: Who is it!?

Kujo Tenn: I wonder if they’ll respond... Oh, they've already seen it.

Kujo Tenn: They responded quickly! Oh, they also sent a photo.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Who? Who is it?

Kujo Tenn: Momo-san.

Rokuya Nagi & Isumi Haruka: Oh!

Kujo Tenn: "Good luck with the recording!" he said. He sent a selfie with Yuki-san.

Rokuya Nagi: OH! It's a tulip field!

Isumi Haruka: What are they doing? They're holding a big picnic basket and a shovel.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Are they on location or something?

Kujo Tenn: He says it’s their day off today.

Isumi Haruka: What the hell are Re:vale doing...

Yotsuba Tamaki: He sent more messages! Read them all.

Kujo Tenn: Do we really need to?

Yotsuba Tamaki: You better read them! Momorin sent them to you!

Kujo Tenn: …

Kujo Tenn: "Tenn-chan really wuvs me lots mwah mwah, I’m with darling right now but I will give you my wuv too!"

Rokuya Nagi: In other words, the direct translation is "You seem to like me, but since I'm with my most beloved right now, I'll share some of my love with you."

Kujo Tenn: Am I being rejected?

Yotsuba Tamaki: That's hilarious!

Kujo Tenn: But thank you for your reply, Re:vale-san.

Yotsuba Tamaki: It's a shame Re:vale’s not in this unit. I’m happy we could mingle!

Isumi Haruka: Aren’t you being too casual with your seniors!?

Yotsuba Tamaki: It’s fine!

Kujo Tenn: Who's going next?

Isumi Haruka: Oh! I'll go.

Isumi Haruka: Please… Please respond...

Isumi Haruka: …

Kujo Tenn & Yotsuba Tamaki & Rokuya Nagi: ..........

Isumi Haruka: Huh, there’s still no read receipt...

Yotsuba Tamaki: Damn it! Nagicchi, isn't our number one person free right now?

Rokuya Nagi: Our number one person is at school today.

Yotsuba Tamaki: But isn't it lunchtime?

Isumi Haruka: Maybe they're busy…?

Kujo Tenn: What should we do? Wait for a response?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Hmm... Is there no one else, Isumin?

Isumi Haruka: Huh!? They're not here! Can I not text ŹOOḼ!?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Nope.

Isumi Haruka: I don't have any other friends Besides ŹOOḼ...

Kujo Tenn: If I were in a different unit I would have responded right away.

Isumi Haruka: Huh!? That's... Stop teasing me, you little devil! Don't say things that'll get my hopes up!!

Kujo Tenn: But it's true?

Isumi Haruka: Huuhh!? You're embarrassing me…! Wait, don't take a picture.

Kujo Tenn: Hehe...

Yotsuba Tamaki: Good for you, Isumin.

Rokuya Nagi: That’s a page of youth.

Isumi Haruka: What should I do, though...do we wait for Izumi’s reply? Ah. I said his name.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Then you can use my partner!

Isumi Haruka: Th-the one that starts with "O"!?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Yup. The three of us talked in a group chat before. They'll respond right away now.

Isumi Haruka: Wait, hold on. I'm nervous... What should I say...

Rokuya Nagi: Why don’t you send a sticker?

Isumi Haruka: A sticker!?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Remember the dinosaur one? The one where the dinosaur breaks the door. That one's good.

Isumi Haruka: Why!? That’s so rude outta nowhere!?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Maybe they'll feel a connection.

Rokuya Nagi: The gaogao dinosaur is so cute! I like T-kun too.

Isumi Haruka: Oh... Thanks. I kinda... like T-kun too.

Rokuya Nagi: Yay! He’s one of us.

Isumi Haruka: This person looks flashy, but they're nice... Alright, I'll send this sticker.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Go for it!

Kujo Tenn: Will it show as read?

Isumi Haruka: It did!

Yotsuba Tamaki: What did they say? what did Sou-chan say?

Isumi Haruka: Um…

Isumi Haruka: "Thank you for your help. What a cheerful dinosaur. If this was sent by mistake, no need to reply."

Kujo Tenn: He’s so serious.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Ahahaha! Sou-chan, that's hilarious.

Isumi Haruka: It sure is...

Yotsuba Tamaki: So?

Isumi Haruka: S-So what?

Yotsuba Tamaki: What did you think?

Isumi Haruka: He kinda…He used a lot of polite language and seemed very kind...

Yotsuba Tamaki: Ah, yeah, that's true. I'll tell him that you called him kind.

Kujo Tenn: No, this is being recorded.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Oh, right. Everything’s being filmed! Man, now I'm kinda embarrassed!

Rokuya Nagi: There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Just give that camera some fan service.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Yay! No need to reply!

Kujo Tenn: Should you really be saying that line with that smug look on your face?

Isumi Haruka: Haa... Anyways, I’m clear for now. Hm? This isn’t a mission, is it?

Rokuya Nagi: Yes! It’s nothing more than simple question.

Kujo Tenn: Last but not least, Yotsuba. Who are you sending the rabbichat to?

Yotsuba Tamaki: The big guy from TRIGGER. Everyone, gather around a bit.

Rokuya Nagi: Are you sending a photo?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Yup. Look at the screen.

Kujo Tenn: A rare group photo.

Isumi Haruka: Oh... I kinda want this photo too...

Yotsuba Tamaki: I’ll send it to you. Alrighty, let's do this on the count of three...

Rokuya Nagi: Yay! Click.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Nice! One more time. Click.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Thanks. I'll send it now!

Isumi Haruka: Let me see. How is it?

Kujo Tenn: It's a nice photo, isn't it?

Isumi Haruka: Amazing! Great photo! It really feels like we're friends!

Rokuya Nagi: I'm happy! Another precious photo to add to the collection!

Kujo Tenn: I wonder if Ryuu saw it?

Yotsuba Tamaki: He saw it and... Oh, he already replied!

Yotsuba Tamaki: "Thanks for the photo. Your shoot seems to be going well. I'm having lunch right now."

Yotsuba Tamaki: ...And he sent a photo of his lunch!

Rokuya Nagi: OH... Why didn't he just send a selfie?

Isumi Haruka: Looks delicious! I like this pink furikake-like sweet thing! (1)

Kujo Tenn: It's sakuradafu, isn't it? (2)

Isumi Haruka: Cherry blossoms?

Kujo Tenn: No, it's supposed to be fish paste.

Isumi Haruka: Fish!?

Yotsuba Tamaki: I’m glad we got a reply! I'll thank Ryuu-aniki for the photo!

Kujo Tenn: Okay.

Isumi Haruka: Are we finally done with the first question?

Rokuya Nagi: Sorry. I made it a difficult question.

Isumi Haruka: It's okay, it was fun! So, can I ask the next question? I think it'll be quick!

Yotsuba Tamaki: Sure.

Kujo Tenn: Go ahead.

Isumi Haruka: Um, so, how do you guys feel about your managers?

Kujo Tenn: Our manager? I've known them for a long time, they're someone I can trust.

Isumi Haruka: Like a family member?

Kujo Tenn: It’s a bit different than that. I consider them one of the most important members of TRIGGER who’s not visible to the public.

Kujo Tenn: It’s most likely the same for Gaku and Ryuu?

Isumi Haruka: Ha...that’s great.

Isumi Haruka: What about you guys, Yotsuba?

Yotsuba Tamaki: We get along really well. They're super nice, super funny, and super cool.

Isumi Haruka: I get it, MEZZO”’s manager is so cool.

Rokuya Nagi: IDOLiSH7’s manager is also very kind and very sincere. They always listen to me.

Isumi Haruka: They always listen to you huh, do you talk to them about stuff other than work?

Rokuya Nagi: Sometimes we ask them for advice, but we also chat like friends.

Isumi Haruka: I see...

Yotsuba Tamaki: Why this question?

Isumi Haruka: It's just... You know, ŹOOḼ has a manager.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Duh.

Isumi Haruka: And, in this project, the four members of ŹOOḼ were shuffled into four different units, right?

Isumi Haruka: And each of us went to record songs and shoot music videos for those units.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Yepyep.

Isumi Haruka: So... I wish I didn’t, but I ended up asking which song they liked the most?

Rokuya Nagi: What was the response?

Isumi Haruka: "Good Good Games."

Kujo Tenn＆Yotsuba Tamaki＆Rokuya Nagi: Oh...

Isumi Haruka: “Oh” right!? It's like, you know! The manager’s face changed to worry as soon as he replied...!

Yotsuba Tamaki: That's not cool...

Isumi Haruka: Right!? It feels like they're not mine anymore, you know!?

Rokuya Nagi: I sense some jealousy here.

Isumi Haruka: Touma was happy then suddenly felt a bit uneasy. Minami, Torao and I just acted like nothing happened.

Isumi Haruka: Well, it's my fault for asking!

Kujo Tenn: Personal preferences are personal preferences, so it's okay. It's different from who they value the most.

Kujo Tenn: I understand why you'd feel complicated.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Does it happen with TRIGGER?

Kujo Tenn: We've been together for a long time, so we understand our manager's preferences.

Kujo Tenn: But we still feel a drive to compete with each other, as if we want to be chosen by them.

Isumi Haruka: Why are you not shaken up? I get upset and depressed easily…

Yotsuba Tamaki: No, I get why you feel that way. I’d be depressed if my manager told me Sou-chan was better.

Rokuya Nagi: I also want my manager to praise me first...

Kujo Tenn: Isn't that fine? That just means you have a good relationship.

Isumi Haruka: Are you sure!? Aren't you internally sighing at how childish we are!?

Kujo Tenn: It's fine, right? We're all kids.

Yotsuba Tamaki: What's up, Tenntenn!? Aren't you being a bit lenient!? Is it because the camera's still rolling!

Isumi Haruka: Ah, the camera...

Kujo Tenn: Come on.

Isumi Haruka: ...Um. Kujo…san…Remember when, uh... you said, uh...

Kujo Tenn: Yes?

Isumi Haruka: You said you don't do idol work to be praised, you do it for yourself.

Kujo Tenn: That's right.

Yotsuba Tamaki: What's with that!? That's so cool...

Isumi Haruka: Since then, I've started to, um... worry about... whether I'm doing it to be praised.

Kujo Tenn: That's admirable.

Isumi Haruka: Again... You're really...

Kujo Tenn: I mean it honestly. I think you're admirable.

Isumi Haruka: ...Because, you know, if you're doing it to be praised, then when something happens, you end up blaming the other person.

Isumi Haruka: You end up saying "I told you to do it", or “I didn’t wanna do it”, or “It’s all your fault”.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Ah, I get it.

Rokuya Nagi: That's very important.

Isumi Haruka: Right. That's why it doesn’t matter to me. I'll sing my songs for myself with everyone here.

Isumi Haruka: It doesn't matter if I'm not chosen by my manager or the world as the best.

Kujo Tenn: Let's aim for the top.

Isumi Haruka: Huhhh!?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Hell yeah! I wanna be the most popular in the unit!

Rokuya Nagi: I want to be popular too! "Never Green" is a wonderful song!

Isumi Haruka: Ah... When you say it like that, I want to be popular too.

Isumi Haruka: Yeah, I want to be the most popular after all! But Kujo-san is so far ahead...

Kujo Tenn: What are you talking about? Aiming for the top is the best feeling.

Kujo Tenn: As long as you don’t hurt yourself or the others if you don’t reach it.

Isumi Haruka: Yeah…

Kujo Tenn: I wanna be popular too.

Isumi Haruka: Ahaha! That line doesn’t suit you.

Kujo Tenn: Why not? I want to be properly popular. Let's make the best performance with this song. One that makes all the other members jealous.

Rokuya Nagi: That's wonderful! Let's make them jealous! The idea makes my heart dance!

Yotsuba Tamaki: Exciting! Let's win over the adults as the children’s group!

GREEN BUBBLE: Yeahh!!

Yotsuba Tamaki: Oh... We got so excited as if we reached the climax but we still have some questions left.

Rokuya Nagi: We got into quite a deep topic. Let's keep it light. Who’s next?

Kujo Tenn: Okay.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Yeah. Can I go next?

Kujo Tenn: Go ahead.

Yotsuba Tamaki: In relation to our song "Never Green," what's your favorite vegetable?

Kujo Tenn: Vegetable!?

Yotsuba Tamaki: I'm not really into veggies. But Sou-chan and Mikki said I should eat them.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Give me some recommendations! If you can't eat vegetables, plants are okay too!

Rokuya Nagi: Corn! It's sweet, has a nice texture, fresh, and it's really tasty.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Corn is so good! It's my favorite vegetable too!

Kujo Tenn: I’ve been into beets lately.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Beets?

Kujo Tenn: It's a pink vegetable. It's delicious even when made into jam.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Isn’t it a fruit if you can make jam out of it?

Kujo Tenn: I think it's a vegetable. It looks like turnip.

Yotsuba Tamaki: I see. How about you, Isumin?

Isumi Haruka: I like all vegetables, but I’ve noticed that I quite enjoy mint lately.

Yotsuba Tamaki: You've been eating mint ice cream for a while now.

Isumi Haruka: All ice cream tastes good, you know! Sometimes I put fresh leaves in and make tea out of it.

Rokuya Nagi: OH! Fresh herb tea is delicious!

Yotsuba Tamaki: How classy!

Isumi Haruka: Yeah! It looks beautiful. Minami made it for me.

Isumi Haruka: He's been growing them at home lately. He’s growing herbs in small planters…

Yotsuba Tamaki: Hm? Don’t we have a ton of these at home too?

Kujo Tenn: We have a lot of them as well. Parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme...

Rokuya Nagi: It’s a Dokidoki Cultivation kit from some "Magical★Kokona" blind goods. I bought them in bulk and distributed them.

Kujo Tenn: Really!?

Rokuya Nagi: It seems that Natsume-shi's cultivation kit landed on mint. I'm glad Isumi-shi liked it.

Isumi Haruka: Ah... Y-Yeah... Thank you...

Isumi Haruka: It's really taking over the pot.

Kujo Tenn: Mint is fertile and reproduces quickly. Oh, wait a minute...

Kujo Tenn: I think Re:vale went to plant their herbs then?

Rokuya Nagi: OH!

Kujo Tenn: I was negotiating with Yuki-san to offer him the rosemary Gaku harvested the other day.

Kujo Tenn: But even Yuki-san’s family home ended up troubled with a large harvest of herbs.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Did they rent a field or something?

Rokuya Nagi: I think they’ll land in trouble if they plant these on the ground…

Isumi Haruka: We should let them know...

Rokuya Nagi: Let's contact them later. Well then, last one! Kujo-shi!

Yotsuba Tamaki: Huh!? Isn't it my turn to MC!?

Isumi Haruka: It's fine, anyone can do it.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Are you sure!? Okay then.

Kujo Tenn: Yes. Well then, I'd like to ask a question.

Kujo Tenn: It's also related to this song.

Kujo Tenn: “Never Green” is about someone who has had bitter experiences in their past, looking back and affirming who they are now.

Kujo Tenn: I think it’s that kind of song.

Rokuya Nagi: Yes, it is. It evokes the feeling of euphoria after going through and overcoming something.

Kujo Tenn: That's right. I think everyone here has overcome or endured something.

Kujo Tenn: If you were to meet your past self, what would you tell them?

Yotsuba Tamaki: Ah...

Yotsuba Tamaki: It will be alright. You’re gonna go through tough times, but they all lead to being okay.

Rokuya Nagi: It's okay. I have a similar sentiment. What's different from Tamaki is...

Rokuya Nagi: You don’t have to hate, and you don’t have to be wary. It’s okay.

Rokuya Nagi: Everyone you meet will become someone you love.

Isumi Haruka: Wow... Somehow... Yeah, I get it...

Kujo Tenn: And what about you, Isumi-san?

Isumi Haruka: I still can't... I can't seem to find kind words to tell myself. I feel like I'd say something like "You idiot" or "It's your fault"...

Yotsuba Tamaki: Ah...

Kujo Tenn: And aside from those accusatory words?

Isumi Haruka: ...Aside from them...

Kujo Tenn: Yeah. I think it's good to say something nice to yourself.

Isumi Haruka: Mm...

Isumi Haruka: ...Hang in there, I guess. Just a little more, so hang in there.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Yeah. I want you to overcome this. I want to go pick you up myself.

Yotsuba Tamaki: We're all here for you.

Isumi Haruka: Stop it! You're trying to make me cry...!

Yotsuba Tamaki: I'm not! Are you gonna cry?

Isumi Haruka: I'm not gonna cry!

Kujo Tenn: Thank you for your answers, everyone. Each answer really touched my heart.

Isumi Haruka: Thank you.

Yotsuba Tamaki: Thanks a bunch.

Rokuya Nagi: I had a great time! Tamaki, will you wrap this up?

Yotsuba Tamaki: I’ll leave it to you.

Kujo Tenn: He’ll leave it to you.

Isumi Haruka: He's so carefree...

Rokuya Nagi: "8th Anniversary! Four Thanks Project"!

Rokuya Nagi: Celebrating the formation of our limited-time unit! This concludes the "Ask this and that!?" segment, "GREEN BUBBLE" version!

GREEN BUBBLE: Please drink! "GREEN BUBBLE"!

Audience: Kyaaaaaaah…!

Kujo Tenn: Good evening! Welcome to"GREEN BUBBLE"’s live! I'm "GREEN BUBBLE"’s Kujo Tenn!

Audience: Kyaaaaaaah…!

Yotsuba Tamaki: I'm "GREEN BUBBLE"’s Yotsuba Tamaki! Everyone! Let's get insanely pumped up during our live!

Audience: Kyaaaaaaah…!

Rokuya Nagi: I'm "GREEN BUBBLE"’s Rokuya Nagi! We may be the youngest, but we'll make your hearts race the most...!

Audience: Kyaaaaaaah..!

Isumi Haruka: We need more voices!

Audience: Kyaaaaaaah…!

Isumi Haruka: Crave us more! Drink us up...!

Audience: Kyaaaaaaah…!!

Isumi Haruka: I'm "GREEN BUBBLE"’s Isumi Haruka!

Audience: Kyaaaaaaah…!!

Kujo Tenn: Here we go! "8th Anniversary! Four Thanks Project"!

Yotsuba Tamaki: To the 1,000 lucky winners!

Rokuya Nagi: The "Miracle Limited-Time 4 Unit Thanks Live"!

Isumi Haruka: Let's do this...!

Audience: Kyaaaaaaah…!

Kujo Tenn: Listen to us. This is our unit song, which is also the commercial song for "GREEN BUBBLE"!

Kujo Tenn: Ready...!

GREEN BUBBLE: "Never Green"!

The end.

Furikake: Rice seasoning.

Sakuradafu: Fish that has been finely shredded, seasoned and colored pink. Haruka thinks it’s cherry blossoms because of its name containing “Sakura (cherry blossoms)”

#idolish7 #i7 #idolish7 translation #ainana #idolish7 shuffle unit #idolish seven #yotsuba tamaki #rokuya nagi #kujo tenn #isumi haruka #green bubble

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