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[gabunyan]

I only ask for a small - 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛 - in return

[cryptfile]

⋆౨ৎ˚ ࣪ over the moon [ benedict bridgerton x wife!reader ]

summary — based on a request but went slightly off with it aka when your husband starts to stay up painting till late you start plotting a good plan to make him go to bed with you and actually rest instead.

warnings — pure fluff, since the rumors of sophie being latina sparked, personally went crazy with the information so it’s implied that reader is latina also, mentions of sex (nothing explicit,,, implied as part of a establish relationship).

side notes — English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes i’m sorry in advance. this is for my latin girlies out here reading in tumblr, working extra hard to translate your works to bring new content to the page, tkm <3 reblogs, comments and likes are much appreciated,,,as brittany broski once said: i'm a benedict bridgerton believer, i'm a benedict bridgerton ally.

You really didn’t know what you were getting into when you accepted Benedict’s marriage proposal.

Nobody told you that loving an artist is a tricky thing, cause while you’re always giving Ben’s new ideas, you hate him at the same time when he’s at the art studio until late, painting as if the absence of light it’s not enough to separate him from the canvas.

God, it just drives you crazy. He lacks of a schedule so he’s able to keep on painting till the rays of light start to appear again in the window he leaves opened all night long, and you’re afraid he’s going to catch a cold if he continues with his bad habits.

It suddenly hits him, that inspiration he ends up being the victim of, kissing you quickly as he escapes so fast you aren’t able to say anything when he disappears leaving you alone, you tolerate it at first, but the second? The third? He's just testing your patience at this point.

Your marriage has never been a troubled one, your husband does not make you mad most of the time and you enjoy being in love, those little things that made your heart skip a beat. You enjoy talking to him at night, spend your day in his art room as he encourages you to keep on writing that mystery book you're so into lately, bickering about how unfair life is for women your age — Hell, woman of all ages.

You love the sound of his laugh when he's careless about everything else, when he admits he doesn't want to go that night's party cause he just wants to stay home and fuck you senseless, his way of seeing art and explain it to you as something totally opposite as what you really think it is.

Thing is, you choose to marry Benedict Bridgerton cause you're indeed, head over heels with him. You've fall for the charming smile and sassy attitude that made you finally settle after years of being called a spinster. He finds the way to intrude the walls of the maze that was your heart and managed to plant a flag in the middle of it when you're confident enough to talk to him, let alone be seen in public after all the rumors you've heard that he was looking for a wife that season.

Even when you try to avoid him, he makes you fall in no time, following you around like a lost puppy, going to your house to spend time with your family, convincing everyone he's desperate to try the food your nana makes, cause you've talked about how good it taste all the time.

It's almost like he tricked you into make you love him, to have you between the brushes dipped in a funny smell water. He has you hooked by the first months and soon after? God, he has no education when he makes you love him, how he obliges you to stain yourself with all the things he was his daily life mixed with yours functioning so well.

It's a thorn nailed in the palm of your hand, those moments of privacy when the moon evolves you and your lover completely that are now being taken away. It's selfish, surely it's something childish so you don't want to say anything to your friends, or even Daphne Basset when she visits you to have an afternoon of tea free from her kids, asking you about how everything's going days before you came up with this great idea.

You can take the matter by your hands, that's why the next time Benedict's painting at midnight your mind works like a machine.

After all the time together you happen to know him more than you know yourself, the things he enjoys what he dislikes the most — So it's not very hard to plot against your husband.

Benedict doesn't seem to hear you when you silently glide through the half-open door, unaware as the light of the candle lights is not enough to illuminate the whole room, the fire he kept close to the canvas he was currently working on. He looks handsome all concentrated. His brows furrowed as he takes the pigments with his bare hands and mix them in his wood palette to get that exact color he was looking for. A shade of pink for a piece he hasn't shown you officially yet.

"What are you doing up so late?" you ask coyly when you are close to him, hearing how his breath hitched for a second before noticing it's you, your hands coming from behind just to intrude in his space close to the easel. He's taller than you, but it doesn't stop you from standing in your tiptoes, pressing your cheek against the crook of his neck as you hugged him.

You cannot hide that you're tired. You lost the track of time when you got out of bed, so when you have your husband close and finally smell that nice and subtle aroma he carries with him, you relax in his back, the sound of his heartbeat loud against your ear.

"You scared me for a second," he says with a grin, muscles relaxing under your touch. "Didn't hear you coming in."

He has dry paint on his neck, so while you're cleaning his skin with one hand, he leans into you, back pressed against your chest seeking for your warmth, that contact he always seems to enjoy, your attention in all the ways he can get it.

“Bed’s cold without you” you say, fingers on his recently trimmed hair. "Done waiting for'you."

He has the nerve to laugh at your words, slowly at first, the sound of it making your skin shiver. He's going to defend his choices, you know it, and you hate how much you enjoy it, the way he always seems to find an excuse making you totally offended as you retort something equally ridiculous.

"Just thirty more minutes I promise," he says pressing a kiss in the palm of your hand he so gently grabs. "If you stay with me like this, can do the work in twenty."

"You can fool anyone else with that Ben, not buying it" to be honest, you're just trying to contradict everything he says, far from what you thought doing first when you plotted against him. "You said the same last week, amor. Not falling for any more lies."

"Not falling huh?" he asks, lowering the wood palette to look at you, his eyes meeting yours when you're so comfortable pressing your chin on his shoulder, looking at the painting he was doing — "You've learned the lesson then?"

"Twenty more minutes mean an hour in Benedict's language," he's the one that's now offended when his mouth opens in disbelief "Turns out I know my husband, and we both know that’s way more than twenty minutes.”

He loves it. It’s almost a secret, but he loves how you demand his company, the way you don’t fold against anything and you stand for what you believe. He loves how you claim to know him, your lavender smell filling every single space available in the room as he smiles happily in response. He was so unsure of marrying you at first, but now he doesn’t know what his life would look like without you in the picture.

“Ah, I’m guilty as charge” he says, his own hand going to his chest like it saddens him to hear you talk like that. “Thought you wanted me to paint more.”

You've been encouraging him to show his art to more people, a small gallery that displayed his talent, but that’s using your words for his advantage.

“You little bastard, that’s unfair coming from you.”

“Woah woah, you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Kiss you even” you stick your tongue out, and he’s suddenly turning you around to place a kiss in your forehead, making you move in front of him instead — “You wouldn’t even imagine.”

Benedict’s a romantic. A poet at heart, so he doesn’t let any opportunity slip to show his affection, his infinite devotion to you. His heart flutters in his chest and suddenly he’s kissing you, staining your white nightgown with the fresh paint of his hands and not caring about it at the slightest. Kisses you like he missed you, like he didn’t see you the whole day when in reality you’ve spent all day in the same house, baking cookies cause you’ve suffered from a burst of love to the kitchen.

“You’re not convincing me” you say between kisses, hands pressing you closer to him. “I’m not leaving this room without you.”

He chuckles at your words — “Not even ten minutes?”

He’s devastatingly handsome in a way that makes you stare at him, wonder what you did to make him so interested in you, so attracted to the point he has to marry you.

"No Bridgerton. Ni diez minutos." To be honest, the accent just makes him go weak at the spot. It's pathetic, but he cannot help it, his brain melts at the sound of your voice, even if he doesn't understand much of what you're saying. "Let's go to bed."

You know it's a weapon, your lips are on his face, and he forgets about everything else: How he's supposed to continue on working when your lips are kissing every inch of his face? Seems like an impossible task now that his hands are on your waist and all he can notice are your pink lips, how you're looking at him through half-lidded eyes cause you're sleepy, an smile that eclipses the rest.

Benedict's no longer worried of his painting. Hell, he cannot seem to remember what shade of pink he was so invested in finding before, but he don't care at all when he's the one now leaning in, kissing you with fervent love as he traces the outline of your lips, almost asking for permission to invade you before deepening the contact, tangling his fingers in the strands of your hair cause he simply cannot get enough from you.

"Take me to bed then, my beautiful wife."

He does not protest next. He loves every second of it, the slight force, your gentle touch when your guiding him through the cottage you two share in Wiltshire, the goosebumps in his own skin when you managed to get what you want.

You win. It's a war that Benedict never intended to win, a disaster he knew it would end up with the result of him leaving his work half done cause he cannot resist to the idea of being tangled with you in such an intimate way. He sleeps so well with you on his arms, burying his head on your hair as he relaxes beneath the sheets, the contact of your skin enough to make him have the best night sleep.

Can he resist it? He's neck deep. Talked about it with his brothers before, drinking too much as the words slurred together and he admits how you got him wrapped around your finger, so in love he would do anything to please you, let alone have your full attention — They surely made fun of him, but is it his fault? Being so in love with his wife?

"Can't say no to you," he says defeated "You know it."

In the privacy of the room you two share, you're washing his hands with a wet cloth, preventing him from getting the sheets dirty before pulling his linen shirt to the floor. It's so quickly, he don't seem to realize what you're doing until he's already in bed, covered with the thick duvet as he searches for you.

He realizes now he should have listened to you before, cause his back is surely happy now that he's able to rest, the weariness of being standing so many hours now falling over him as his eyes began to close by themselves.

"When are you going to stop working so late?" You ask, pressing your cheek against his chest as you hugged him, getting closer to him even when you stole more than half of the bed in the process. The second son of the Bridgerton family does not say anything about it, but instead, enjoys how needy you are of his touch, how you want him around.

"Inspiration always come late, angel" he tries to defend himself as you rolled your eyes. “Maybe it’s a curse.”

"Then i’m afraid i’ll have to drag you to bed every night," you protest. "Cause i'm not letting you stay all night in that studio, crazy man."

"Miss me too much in bed?"

"Hm, what if I do?"

"Cannot blame you," Benedict admits later, using the only traces of force he has left to caress your hair, fingertips against your scalp in a gentle massage. "I'm always missing you when you're not around."

Your heart skips a beat: How could you not be head over heels with this man? He always find the right words, what to say exactly.

Gently, your face come up to press a soft kiss against his lips, a quick one that’s not enough for Benedict when he makes you stay in the same position as he steals a much longer one.

Life is simple with him by your side, you know it cause you might as well be over the moon when you’re alone with Benedict Bridgerton.

Every. single. day.

my masterlist.

[zee-rambles]

Lets. D0. This.

(Please note: Post will be updated as I find more resources and think of more strategies)

(Please do not re-use gif without permission…unless it’s to save Rise…)

Mutant May

YOU can watch Season 1 and Season 2 of RISE right HERE!

So I’ve seen a a lot of people still wondering if Rise of the TMNT can be saved.

There’s is a lot of hope, especially with the boom of fans joining the fandom after the movie dropped last year, people making more art on tumblr, twitter, tik tok, and so on. But also a a lot of doubt, especially after JJ Conway’s post on twitter.

BUT…I still think there is a chance…a GOOD chance. WITH ORIGINAL CAST AND CREW! Why?

We live in the internet. Information is more then easy to get out now thanks to social media. There is all kinds of ways to get the word out to people. Let’s abuse it. 😎

Fans have brought back shows before.

We need a MAJOR push through social media, more fans, more art, it’s up to us…and I think we can do it!

Fans convinced Netflix to bring Sense8 back for a finale

Fans convinced fox to bring back “Futurama” after it was cancelled in 1999.

Hey Arnold got the jungle movie thirteen years after the show was cancelled

Animaniacs got a 3 season revival 22 years after it stopped airing.

Brooklyn 99 was cancelled in 2018, and the fans convinced NBC to pick up the series.

Arrested Development was canceled after 3 seasons, but AFTER it was cancelled, it grew an audience and they made it come back!

Fans saved the original Star Trek in the 60s with letters.

They did it. Why can’t we?

So what can we do?

Well…

1. PETITIONS TO SAVE RISE that we can all sign…

PETITION 1 (The strongest one, but the more petitions signed, the better!)

PETITION 2

PETITION 3

PETITION 4 (save the content that was cut/we missed)

PETITION 5! (Make an ROTTMNT season 3)

2. Pester Nickelodeon and Netflix on social media (THE BIG ONE Y’ALL, THIS IS THE MOST DIRECT AND IMPORTANT)

Be polite, be non-toxic (don’t be rude or mean, the boys would not want that, and the Nick/Netflix won’t listen), but be LOUD, PASSIONATE, AND ANNOYING! Ask for DVDs of the show/movie, and then BUY THOSE DVDs!

MAKE SURE TO ASK FOR THE FULL ORIGINAL CAST AND CREW TO COME BACK, INCLUDING ANDY SARIANO AND ANT WARD.

Sample DM/Letter (but try to come up with your own. Too many repeats and they will ignore it)

“Dear Nickelodeon/Netflix/Viacom, I can’t tell you how much Rise means to me, and I really love that you put the show on air. But it was not fair that the show was cancelled before it got the chance to reach the audience it deserved, only because of a few bad reviews and a lack of advertising. The show is great, there’s tons of fans, tons of art, and people, including me, want so much more! Please bring it back! We want the original crew to come, Flying Bark, for the show to get it’s full second season restored, and it’s five season run like it was originally intended. People hated the 2012 TMNT when it came out, but it got it’s chance and now there are people that love it. Why can’t Rise of the TMNT have the same? It’s clear that the creators love their work and there’s a growing fan base for it. Rise just came out at the wrong time, but it deserves it chance to shine.”

The more personal you made the letter, the more you say what Rise means to you, the better.

As for me? I’m sending them a picture of Pizza Pigeon with the #wewantmoreriseoftheTMNT and #saverottmnt

Request movies/seasons on Netflix.

Ask for Rise Season 2, another season, another movie. Just keep asking!

Nickelodeon’s facebook page (Look, I know that facebook is a relic at this point, but the more people go there and PESTER Nickelodeon, the better!)

Rise’s facebook page

Leave good reviews. Share. Leave TONS of comments

Nickelodeon’s instagram

Nickelodeon’s Twitter page (treat carefully, there be Musks out there…only use if you are over 18)

Nickelodeon’s TikTok

Niceklodeon’s letter inbox

Nickelodeon, 1515 Broadway, New York, NY 10036

Rugrats was brought back because fans bombarded Nickelodeon with letters saying they wanted it back. Might as well cover our bases. This one is a BIG DEAL!

Nickelodeon’s Corporate Number

1-212-846-2543 Call them! Annoy them! Ask how we can get their attention! Tell them why you love this show! Why it deserves to come back.

Contact Paramount

Paramounts Request form

Official Fan Page Rise’s Instagram

The more followers the better.

Netflix’s instagram

Netflix’s facebook

Netflix’s Twitter (Treat carefully. There be MUSKs out there…only use if you are over 18)

SPAM NICKELODEON’S EMAILS!

feedback@nick.com

contactus@nick.com

Letterbox@nick.co.uk

help@paramountplus.coM

If anyone has any more, any deeper more direct points of contact, or more ideas, please share!

3. Leave good reviews for Rise anywhere and raise awareness everywhere you can!

One of the key reasons Rise did not do too well because it was unfairly review bombed before people could give it a chance…so get out there on tik tok, IMDB, Rotten Tomatoes, and ESPECIALLY youtube.

Make reviews! Analysis! JOKES! Support other content creators! When the Rise Reanimated video comes out, share it like no tomorrow!

No one paid attention when How to Train Your Dragon came out, but word of mouth and people saying it was good, made it the success it was. Let’s repeat history!

Anytime there is NEW RISE CONTENT on Nickelodeon’s YouTube channel, watch it, share, spread it.

Share this post on social media, across various sites, use the information here to spread awareness about how people can help and what they can do. Be relentless! (Like Leo in Lair Games)

Ask influencers to review, react, and give RISE a chance without placing judgement.

4. Make. ART!

Draw, Write, TWEET, Make MERCH, Sell MERCH, Make Tik Toks, Videos on YouTube, posts on instagram, discord, what pad, demanding more Rise, spreading the word, and just showing how much you love this show! Not only will it attract attention, but it’s also good for all of us. There will be more Rise content either way.

Make sure to @ nickelodeon on ALL of your art! SPAM THEM! ANNOY THEM! DROWN THEM IN LOVE FOR THIS SHOW! Demand DVD’s and Blue rays of the SHOW AND THE MOVIE! It’s not fair that we can’t have access to it!

PLAY THIS GAME!

If you see official Rise MERCH in the while, buy it if you can! Also support as many rise content creators as you can. If you can’t draw? Write! If you can’t create! Like! Share! Comment! Support each other!

Rise April ART Challenge

Keep in mind…there WILL be pushback.

Companies as big as Nickelodeon and Viacom care about their bottom line: $$$…money. BUT pushback, whether they are taking down your videos on Tik Tok, striking artists on twitter, mean that they’re taking NOTICE. So don’t. Give. UP!

One last thing to remember: DO NOT harass fans for enjoying other versions of TMNT

Even though Rise is the first and only TMNT I have ever loved, I don’t believe in shaming other fans for looking forward to, or enjoying other TMNT series. Gatekeeping like that was what stopped Rise from (heh) Rising as high as it should have. All Rise fans are welcome, and all TMNT fans are welcome. Rise deserves to reach more fans, it deserves another season, and it does not need to knock down other TMNT series to do it. Show them your love and your need for more Rise, without making other TMNT fans feel unwelcome.

Share, spread the word, give it your best shot! A village can move MOUNTAINS! SO let’s do it.

So that in the near future…we can MAKE THIS JOKE!

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈

part 3 of 🌧️welcome to hell🌧️

summary - as the betrayal continues, you slip through memories that you had unknowingly locked away, finally seeing the lies.

warning - cheating, angst, bad thoughts, swearing, self-hate.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 1 - part 2 - part 4

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You finally make your way to your bedroom, each step dragging with dread. You could feel the end approaching, but you didn’t know how it would go. You walk in and see him already on his side, you sigh softly before crawling into the bed. You felt your skin crawl with him so close, you felt like you needed to bathe in bleach or boiling hot water or even both to stop feeling so dirty. You turned on your side, not being able to fall asleep as your mind is flooded with thoughts and memories.

Ten minutes pass and you feel Johnny move before he slides out of bed and tiptoes to the bedroom door. Your eyes slip shut when he turns his head to check if you are asleep. The moment he walks out, and the door closes gently behind him, a tear slips from your eyes.

The house had been quiet, but the moment your husband entered the guest bedroom next to yours. The silence had been replaced, first with their voices. They were muffled, but you could still hear them through the wall, your heart was pounding in your chest as their voices turned into moans. You felt as though someone had reached into your chest, grabbed your heart and started squeezing and twisting. You imagined the person doing it was a demonic version of Johnny, he stood before you, his hand in your chest, claws digging into your frantic heart. His eyes black, an evil swirled inside of them, and a large sadistic grin appeared, a row of sharp teeth shown. 

The truth was… You’d rather deal with a demon than what was happening in the other room. 

Your eyes slip closed as tears continue to fall and as you are trying to block out the sounds coming from the guest room. You are pulled into a memory…

Your body collides into something, and your eyes squeeze shut as you are expecting to fall from the force of impact. You feel someone wrap their arms around you and your eyes shoot open, you are met with the prettiest blue eyes you have ever seen. Your mouth opens and closes, cheeks heating up when you realise you’ve been staring for too long at the hot stranger.

He smiles down at you, and you feel like you’re dreaming. “You better watch your step, Baby girl. You nearly fell for me.” His smile shifted into a smirk, you were the prey to the predator, the toy to a manwhore. Your heart fluttered. 

Your lashes fluttered as you blinked before you realised you were still in the man’s arms. You gently pull away and look down at your feet, your bottom lip between your teeth as you suddenly feel shy and ridiculous. “I’m so sorry.” Your hands smooth out the dress you are wearing before you pause as a hand comes up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes shoot up and connect with his pretty blue ones. 

“Nothing to be sorry about, Baby. You got a name, beautiful?” You nod. He chuckles, “Not gonna share it?”

Your mouth opens and your face heats up again. “Oh! I’m sorry, it’s Y/n.” You begin to chew your bottom lip, staring at him again. 

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Names Johnny.” He smirks again. “What do you say we get outta here, Baby girl?” And like that, your interest in him crashed and burned. 

You shook your head. “It was nice to meet you, Johnny.” You give him a small smile before you walk away. Unknowingly leaving the playboy shocked behind you. 

You had chosen a path that you didn’t know had been set out for you that day. Fate had created two, and if you had moved to the left a little bit two seconds before bumping into Johnny. You would’ve bumped into your other path. The path you were meant to take. 

That was the first time you had met each other, but it seemed the universe or fate wasn’t done with either of you just yet. The memory switched…

You were sitting in a small cafe, your laptop opened in front of you as a hot coffee sat beside it. Your brows were furrowed as you stared at the screen, not noticing the hot not so stranger walk in. Johnny looks around with a cocky look, trying to find someone he could take home when his eyes landed on you and his expression morphed into one of shock. 

You were the one that got away, a challenge. Johnny was rarely turned down, anyone and everyone wanted him. So why didn’t you? 

It seemed from the beginning you were always just a challenge for him to pursue and when he got you. He must’ve grown bored because once you’ve caught the thing that interested you, sparked something inside, made you curious to figure out. Was it really fun anymore? 

Johnny sauntered over, a smirk on his lips. “Hey, Baby girl.” You look up with wide eyes, not expecting to run into him here. It didn’t seem like his style. 

“Johnny…”

“It’s good to see you again, beautiful.” He licked his lips as his eyes danced over your body. You shift, your eyes darting between him and your laptop. He must’ve sensed something was wrong because his back straightened. “I’m sorry. I feel like we’ve come off on the wrong foot.” He did a spin, facing you with a playful smile. “Hi, I’m Johnny. It’s nice to meet you!”

You didn’t mean to, but a giggle slipped out. A giggle? You haven’t done that since you were a teenager and your crush spoke to you. Your lashes flutter as you look into his eyes, a smile making an appearance on your face. Your hand slips into his extended one, shaking it gently. “Hi, I’m Y/n.” 

After your second meeting, things seemed to hit off from there. You exchanged numbers and kept in touch, after speaking on the phone for two weeks. Johnny had asked you on a date. Your memory switched to when your relationship turned romantic…

You were extremely nervous, why was Johnny bothering with you? You knew what kind of guy he was. So, was this a play to get into your pants? You stared at yourself in the mirror, your lip had become puffy and red from how much you had been chewing on it. Your eyes scan your outfit, trying to spot a problem. You wore a slightly larger size, dark grey wool jumper with a black skirt. 

Johnny was taking you to a carnival and you didn’t want to overdress, but you also didn’t want to look horrible. So you went with a simple option, but you didn’t know if this was a good decision in the first place. Your brows furrowed, he had been nice. But what did he want with you? 

You shake your head of your thoughts before grabbing a clip to clip your hair back, only leaving a few strands out to frame your face. You then walk into your bathroom and apply some mascara and gloss, having to take some deep breaths as you feel so anxious. You couldn’t shake these nerves, somewhere deep inside. You felt like this was wrong. 

A knock at the door brings you out of it and you walk over with a smile you had practiced so many times in the mirror, wanting, needing to look perfect. You didn’t want everyone else to see the flaws you saw. 

Your biggest fear was that eventually he would see you the way you saw yourself.

He had looked hot that night, like he always did. You never knew what he saw in you. You remembered his reaction when you opened the door. 

Your body buzzes with nerves as you open the door, your eyes land on Johnny who looks away from something when he hears the door opening. His eyes landed on you, and they sparkled, scanning you from head to toe. “Wow… You look beautiful.” He licked his lips. He calls you beautiful like it’s your name, but why did it feel like a lie? “You ready to go?” You nod, following him out.

As you relive the memory, you realise so many signs you had missed. You should have seen it coming. The signs were flashing brightly in front of your face, but you were too blind to see. Everything flashes before your eyes so quickly, the night of your first date. He was looking at your new neighbour who had just moved in down the hall, she had just come home from work at the diner and caught his eye. You didn’t know that after your date when you wouldn’t let him in, that he would then knock on her door and end up in her bed. He didn’t cheat, but he wasn’t completely honest, and you didn’t know which was worse. You remembered the date, things that were once locked away in your mind to protect your heart were now unlocking before your eyes.

He took you to the carnival that you had been dying to go to, but you never had the time or the people to go with. You were so excited, practically bouncing on your feet as the lights caught your eye. Your smile so wide as you walked past the stalls and rides, your hand holding onto Johnny’s, eyes sparkling with happiness.

You were so busy looking around at the games that you missed the looks your date was giving others. From the beginning it seemed he wasn’t really in this for love. Oh god, why were you so blind? You pull him over to a game where you can win a bear, it wasn’t like the movies where the guy would offer to win the prize for you. Johnny just watched as you did it yourself. How did he trick you for so long? 

At some point in the date, you began to feel sad. Was he not that into you? You watched him for a bit before looking down at the food he bought, and the roles switched. Johnny watched you and he wondered why you looked so sad. He was good at seducing women into his bed, he wasn’t the greatest at the whole dating thing. 

“Do you want to go on the bumper cars? We can team up.” He didn’t know why he felt so nervous when asking, you were just a girl. What could be so scary about that? Johnny watched as your face lit up and you smiled. He liked when you smiled, it made him feel like he did something right. You nod and get up, not bothering to finish the food as you grab his hand and pull him towards the bumper cars. 

The date picked up a bit after that, you still missed the looks Johnny gave any pretty woman that looked his way. But he was more attentive, so you were happier. You didn’t feel so unattractive and boring. Toward the end of the date, he took you on the ferris wheel, kissing you at the top. You thought you had felt sparks as your lips touched. But they were only what you had wanted to feel. 

You pull out of the memory, tears streaming down your face as you remember that you never actually felt those sparks when your lips met his. Your memories continue to flash through your mind to distract you from the moans that have gotten louder. Johnny knew you were a deep sleeper, you guess that was why they didn’t even try to be quiet. Your second date he had taken you bowling, and you thought that maybe this could work. Then when your third date came around and he took you to a very fancy restaurant, you had a brief thought that maybe he forgot when you mentioned you preferred the simpler things in life. After your third date, Johnny had become more handsy and because of how blind you were, you thought you loved him and ended up in his bed. 

You don’t know why you two got married. You had wanted it, the relationship was still thriving… Well, on your side it was. Johnny would be gone sometimes, but you brushed it off because of how sweet the relationship was sometimes. 

Your ears ring as your mind blocks out the moans and you are dragged back into another memory, the one where you got your first apartment together. 

You held his hand as you both walked into the tenth apartment that week, nothing had caught your eye yet, nothing seemed to call out to you. But this one felt good, it was in your price range and had the things you were looking for. Johnny seemed semi interested, but he had told you to choose what you liked before going back to his phone. 

“Johnny, what do you think?” You wanted him to decide as well. You tugged slightly on his hand as you looked up at him, waiting for him to look up from his phone. He hums, removing his eyes from the screen before he looks around and nods, leaning down to place a kiss on your head. 

“It’s perfect, Babe.” You smiled, everything in that moment felt perfect. You stared off, this was the beginning of your life. This would be the place where your relationship would blossom. You and Johnny had gotten the apartment that day. 

When the day came to finally move your stuff in and get things sorted. You had gotten into a fight.

“Will you just leave me the fuck alone?! God! I need my fucking space!” Johnny screamed, his glare set on you. 

“I just wanted to know where you were!” You screamed back, anger dripped from your words. “You knew we had things planned today! Yet, you decide that going out last night was more important! Why the hell are you only coming home now, Johnny?! It’s nine–thirty in the fucking morning!” You had forgotten this fight or more specifically what it was about. You can’t remember why you kept forgetting the bad?

He throws his hand up, “I stayed at a friend’s house! Is that a fucking problem?!” 

“Yes. We had times set for when we had to be there, we still have things we need to do.”

“Why couldn’t you just do it? Do you seriously need me for everything? I came fucking apartment hunting with you when I could’ve been out!” Your anger started to rise when he opened his phone, now paying more attention to it than you. Who was he texting all the time? 

But sadness began to overweigh the anger with your next words. “...We were supposed to do this together, WE as a couple. Not I or me, I wanted you to have a say as well…” You sigh, shaking your head before you grab your things and walk past him. “I’ll just do it myself… It’s fine.” You gulp, swallowing the tears.

You remember that was your first fight and on the way out of his place, you bumped into someone.

“I’m so sorry!” You quickly say as you shake your head, lifting your hand to quickly wipe away a stray tear that fell. 

“I’m so sorry!” The stranger says at the same time, their hands immediately reaching out to steady you as you stumble.

You look up, your eyes connecting to the most beautiful blue eyes you have ever seen. You didn’t know that he thought the same about your eyes and you both stared at each other for a bit, a whole life together flashed before both of your eyes before a throat cleared.

You turn your head and feel your cheeks heat up, there stood a gorgeous redhead and of course this guy had a girlfriend, he was so dreamy… AND you had a boyfriend too! How could you forget that by just looking into his eyes? You clear your throat, stepping back a bit. The woman smirks, her eyes move between you and the man, as if she figured out something before anyone else. “Sorry for interrupting this love at first sight moment, but we gotta go.” 

He nods, even though his cheeks turn a pretty pink and you’re sure if you touched yours, they’d be hot. “I’m sorry again for bumping into you, ma’am. Have a nice day.” He leaves with the prettiest smile you have ever seen, he leaves before you can even learn his name… 

Now you remember why you forgot the fight… The moment you looked into the strangers eyes, the whole world disappeared and the only thing you could see, feel, smell was him. It felt like everything had connected, like your souls had finally found each other after searching for so long. It all felt like this was what was meant to be but was suddenly pulled away with each step he took as he left. Leaving your souls to search for one another again.

He was your soulmate. You didn’t know it, yet. But you’ll find him in the next life like you had found him in this one. 

You were broken out of your trance at the sound of the door opening behind you. You turn around and see Johnny, he seemed in a rush with his face no longer in his phone and keys gripped tightly in his hand. “Thank god! I thought you’d be far by now!” Johnny pulls you into a hug and kisses your head. “I’m sorry, Babe. I should've been here at the time we said.” He pulls back and looks down at you. “Are you ready to go?”

You nod, walking with him but your mind is on someone else, and you feel so god damn guilty. You looked at your boyfriend to try and get the thoughts of someone else out of your head, but to no avail. You didn’t even know the guy’s name. How could he possibly make you feel more than you do with Johnny?

You finally made it to your new apartment, you had called ahead when you realised that you weren’t going to make it at the said time. Thankfully, they had been understanding. 

When the two of you entered your new home. It didn’t exactly feel like it just yet, the place was empty except for the boxes filled with your belongings. The furniture you and Johnny had picked out hadn’t arrived, but you guess you could work around that. 

As you were in the middle of unpacking some boxes, you noticed Johnny on his phone and frowned, wondering what had him smiling like that. Your question was answered as music filled the room and he placed his phone down before walking over to you with a smile. The empty apartment was now filled with laughter as you both danced around, not caring if the moves were perfect or not. You laugh as you fall into him, and his arms wrap around you. This is why you could push through all the bad, because there was still the good.

Yes, you could see it. Finally, it feels like our life together can start. He leans down, eyes slipping closed as his lips press flush against yours. Still no sparks, but that was okay. Because he was the one you wanted.

Now you remember why you two had married. Because in that moment, the man, Johnny’s disappearances and late nights, the stress of finding a new home and your questions on if he was the one had disappeared. Vanished as he held you in his arms, in your new home as he kissed you. Feeling happier than you had felt for so long.

You lay in bed, with every moan you could feel your heart break over and over again. All the good that once flooded your memories had been replaced with every sound that slipped from that room, no longer filled with love and happiness. You were no longer going to think of your wedding day or any other day that meant something to you, because they were all lies. You had realised too late that your relationship was a joke, Johnny had gotten better with hiding his man whorish ways. 

“Fuck, I love you, beautiful.” The words were muffled, but it sounded so loud in your head. Those words seemed to be the final nail in the coffin. 

He calls you beautiful like it was your name. It echoed, tore into your heart. Your heart barely tore at the I love you he had announced. That wasn’t the word that hurt the most, no… It was the name he had called you, now uttered against her lips, skin, soul. Etched into her being as though she was the only one, he was seeing. You felt like you could no longer breathe, like you were drowning and there was no way to come up for air. You knew it felt like a lie.

Have you ever felt like you did everything right and it still went all wrong? Like you weren’t living the life you were meant for? 

You fell asleep heartbroken and tired. It hurt when you realised you weren’t as important to someone as you thought you were. Sometime late in the night or early morning, you felt Johnny slip into your bed and the feeling made your skin crawl, you felt sick. Your heart clenched in your chest before you finally fell back into a dreamless sleep. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[dollcherray]

Hi there!! May i request SMG4 and SMG3 (separate) with a very VERY cuddly and clingy reader? (gn!reader pls)

୨୧ GLUED ୨୧

SMG4 & 3 X CLINGY READER

A/N: this took so long cuz Tumblr fucked up the post and didnt save it till the end... sincerest apologies

type: Headcanons, romantic, fluff

triggers: none

song(s) recommendation(s}: glued / hug me

୨୧ I hc him to also be a bit clingy, so everytime he gets sad or at least a bit upset, he would use it as an excuse to jump into your arms and feel your warm embrace, your touch simply sooths him<3

・❥・SMG4

୨୧ Smg4 would eat up all the affection you give him, he was already happy that he finally pulled someone, and they are affectionate and clingy? he is loving it and is living for it!! everytime you just hug him suddenly, he would hug back 10 times tighter, sometimes it takes all of your breath, but he does that to show how much he loves your hugs!

୨୧ Imagine him babbling to others how he haves such an loving and affectionate partner, my man would be all "hey look at my partner, they are such a sweet person with me, i love them so much, they are so-" and continue to ramble about you and your cute features (which is everything about you) and behavior.

୨୧ If he cant give you attention he will simply warn you and tell you he will try to make some time for you later and when he finally gets that time, he is IMMEDIATELY jumping on you.

୨୧ Smg4 loves your affection indoors and outdoors too, he isnt afraid to show it, he loves it so much that Smg3 once said for you two to get a room, only to get an "Your just jealous" back.

୨୧ If you (somehow) is shorter than him, he would just pick you up and carries you to his room silently, he just cuddles u on the bed once he gets there.

୨୧ He doesnt feel overwhelmed by your cuddly and clingy behavior, not at all! he is easily able to keep up with him as surprising as it seens.

୨୧ Whenever you two are in a adventure, he is always holding you, holding on your arm, waist, hand doesnt matter, he just needs to hold you whenever he gets the chance to.

୨୧ "Hug me! bring it in!"

✮⋆˙ SMG3 ✮⋆˙

୨୧ *Insert embarrassed angry face*

୨୧ Do i really need to explain it? this man is simply flustered, but aint complaining... much, he just never had someone as affectionate as you to give him so much love and affection, its kind of new to him.

୨୧ It just breaks him "tough" character facade, it gets him all flustered and silly and ahshshshebsjwj did you cast an spell on him? are you a witch? cuz you making him feel alot of things he never experienced much before.

୨୧ In public he may show himself to hate it but in private he will just eat it up as much as Smg4 does and maybe soon he will eventually warm up to also getting it in public, he just doesnt really wanna show it outdoors in the beginning because he wanted to keep his "bad guy" reputation, but dw, he eventually gets used to it.

୨୧ He goes up to you everytime he is mad or mildly upset too, he looks like Smg4 in that aspect, but he sometimes does it unconsciously, as in "i did it on auto pilot" unconscious, he got too used to seek for your touch.

୨୧ He 100% is a secretly touch starved person, i dont make the rules (i do), so he will hold onto any part of you he can, and i really mean any part, if he need to he will hold onto your ankle.

୨୧ He will brag about you, saying things like: "Look at my partner, they are so cool and sweet, bet you cant have that" "i have the most sweet partner and YOU dont" and etc, hes a little bitch sometimes but still fine as hell

୨୧ You are his soft spot ‼️ like he will soften his behavior around you SO MUCH that anyone who knows him like Smg4 would be so impressed, would usually get mocked because of it but he didnt really care since he HAS YOU‼️‼️‼️

୨୧ "Why are you blushing? thought you were tough" "I-IM NOT BLUSHING! BAKA." <3

[butchcarmy]

ALEXITHYMIA CH 1: onions, weed, and pizza

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

ao3 link ch 2 ch 3 ch 4

Summary: Carmy can’t put into words how he feels about his roommate. It’s only been a couple months, but here he is looking forward to going home and sharing a smoke with them. That’s all it is, though. There are no underlying feelings, none at all, even if everyone around him has something to say about it. 

Or: Carmy is repressed as ever, but through the combined power of vulnerability, weed, and the horny, Carmy too can find love. 

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, cursing, yearning, repression, SO MUCH REPRESSION, angst, mental illness, canon-typical imagery, unresolved tension, for now, virgin carmy, use of weed, alcohol, all that good stuff, carmy character study, eventual smut, gender neutral reader, nonbinary reader, up to you

A/N: HI I've never posted fic on tumblr before but i deeply love Carmy...please enjoy!!!

CHAPTER 1: onions, weed, and pizza

It always stays the same. 

This is the thought that Carmy has when he wakes up, gasping for a chance to just catch his breath and keep it. It’s a kitchen knife twisting like a lock and key in his chest. It fits just right, as all awful and familiar things seem to do.

No matter how many times he wakes up, he’s never anywhere different. That drowning feeling suffocates him in his sleep and follows dutifully into his waking hours. He can’t remember when that haunting started, only that it’s always been with him.

He hates feeling like a drifter, like he’s lost (even though he is both of those things), so he picks a goal and runs after it like a monster. He’s an animal, hunting and working and bleeding until he fucking makes it work , because that’s who he is, and that’s who he’s always been. He can’t not make it work. Because if he can’t do it, then…then what was it all for? 

What is he even for?

These are the thrilling thoughts that serve as the background music to the swirl of his cheap morning coffee, oils rotating in a slow circle. He thinks about getting a nicer brand next time he goes grocery shopping. But that would mean change. That would mean less money on the restaurant, too.

Yeah, so it tastes like shit, but it doesn’t matter. Even if it mattered once. Less and less matters to him these days.

Mornings in Chicago are not technically quiet by definition, but when compared to other times of day, they are. Especially when most of his day is spent in the kitchen wringing out his throat. It isn’t bad to have a quiet morning by normal means, but for him…

The quiet is dangerous.

It’s not silent, but it’s not enough. There’s distant beeping of impatient cars. The whirring sound of the old AC unit. He tries to listen to them, but his rampant thoughts nonetheless rise above them all, buzzing everywhere with nowhere to land. 

A brief analysis of his thoughts reads as such:

Beef sandwiches eggs flour shipment Michael cigarettes smoking sore throat late shipment so tired not sleeping Michael Sugar Mom coffee tastes bad it’s too early my stomach hurts Michael fucking hates you Michael Michael Michael Michael Michael you piece of shit you fucking ki—

“Mornin’, Carmy.”

Until his roommate wakes up, that is. 

When he moved back to Chicago, there was a fact, plain, simple, and unchanging. He wasn’t gonna make rent on his own, not with the restaurant. Not with everything. So maybe he didn’t need to deal with a new roommate, but it’s not like there was a choice. It seemed bearable, survivable enough.

He keeps waiting for the thing that’ll make him grit his teeth, make him regret not getting a place on his own, but it never comes. They’re easy to live with. It’s so easy, as a matter of fact, that it feels strange. The difficulty that he was so certainly expecting just isn’t there. 

If anything, he looks forward to being at home. For someone who lives at work, that feeling is completely foreign.  

They don’t steal his food (not that there’s much). Instead, they cook him food, leaving heated leftovers on the stove on late nights. In Carmy’s case, that’s most nights. They don’t bring over obnoxious company and keep him up with the noise. Rather, he basks in their company, and they make a ruckus between their laughter. Their presence doesn’t stifle him, it soothes him, just like the candle they leave lit in the kitchen for him when he comes home.  They’re not just easy to live with, they’re good to live with, and that’s…

That’s been a hard adjustment, Carmy would say. It’s too much of a good thing that he’s not sure what to do with himself.

On those late nights, they’re usually fast asleep by the time he’s home. But as he sits and eats the leftovers they’ve kept for him, he wants to say something. Something about how a long time ago, there was once a Carmy who cooked for himself, who looked after himself, but that he’s not that Carmy anymore. That it doesn’t matter that he’s a five star chef and they’re just some guy in the kitchen, as they would put it, because he’s…

He’s grateful. Incredibly so.

And yet, the words will never come out. He feels the words tingling on his lips, but it feels scary. He can thank them as many times as he likes (which he does) but it will never capture what he’s really trying to say when he says thank you . There’s too many words, and it just can’t…it just can’t—

It always stays the same. 

“You’re up early,” he says to them when they enter the room. It’s a rare sight to see them up at the early hours he frequents. He sees the morning drowsiness in their mussed hair and big t-shirt stained with hair dye. They yawn back at him, nose scrunching.

Cute , he thinks, and he stamps it down as soon as it flashes through his mind. 

“Randomly woke up.” They fall into the empty seat next to him on the couch, and they rub at the crust around their eyes. “About to head off to work?”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he replies. There’s a certain sentiment that lies on the tip of his tongue, something about how he wishes he could have a slow morning with them instead. Of course, he can’t voice it. He can’t even come close.

“The plague of the working man,” they sigh. “Well, I got an idea that might cheer you up.”

“...And that would be?”

“Let me paint you a beautiful picture,” they start. They clear their throat and gesture widely with their hands. He notices their chipped nail polish, the writing callus on their middle finger. “Imagine this—you come home from work, tired. You need to relax —something you need to do more often,” they add with a pointed look.  No comment. “And I have dinner ready. Some sort of soup, pasta maybe. I need to check the fridge.” They pause with a yawn. “And before we eat, we smoke a big, fat joint.”

He snorts as they finish, unable to hold back a laugh. 

“That’s a nice picture,” he admits. He doesn’t remember when he started smiling. “Y’know, I was wondering when the joint was gonna pop in.” 

“You fucking know me, man,” they reply, blooming with his interest, his smile. Not that he can perceive that. “So? Thoughts? Haven’t done that in a while, right?”

“Right, right,” he echoes faintly. His mind is already sorting through the pile of tasks on the schedule. “Well, I gotta go over this new recipe with Marcus, today,” he mutters, partially under his breath. “But before that, ingredient orders. And those invoices before the end of the day—and that, that toilet guy was supposed to come today…I think?”

“Dude, I do like, one task, and the day’s over for me,” they say sympathetically, and the look on their face is so serious that Carmy struggles to hide his smile. “You’re crazy.”

“I, I’ve seen you do tasks,” he argues. 

“Name one,” they argue back.

“You did two loads of laundry and did the dishes all before lunch time once,” he says, the memory clear and instant. “And when I woke up, you were vacuuming the whole place.” The immediacy surprises him, and it seems to surprise them, too. 

“Damn, I said name one , but I guess I’m just that good!” They laugh, a breathy, exasperated sort of thing. “Well, point taken. Anyway, it sounds like you’re not gonna be home early tonight.” 

“It is a Friday,” he says, “but…”

“But.”

“Can’t make promises I can’t keep,” he sighs, and shame melts over him like butter on a stainless steel pain. This isn’t anything new. 

“I know, I know,” they say, gracious as ever. “It’s okay. Such is the life of a business owner, yeah?” He searches for some thinly veiled shred of disappointment, frustration in their expression, but he doesn’t. No matter how many times he lets them down, the explosion he’s waiting for never comes. They remain patient, collected through it all. 

Says more about him than them, he supposes. 

“Yeah,” he mutters, “such is the life.” 

“C’est la fucking vie,” they say, and he laughs with a shake of his head. 

It can feel strange to laugh. He worries that the lightness in his chest will expand like a balloon, and he’ll float away. It’s uncontrollable, foreign. It should be scary, how his emotions lead him when he’s around them, not the other way around, but it’s not. 

It’s not scary to loosen up around them, and that’s the scary part. There are no words to describe why. All he can see is that the fear exists, stubborn and persistent. That fear is what makes him snap out of it, makes him look at the clock. He holds back a sigh. 

“Time to go,” he mutters, and they nod.

“And time for me to go back to bed.” They salute him. “Best of luck with your day, brave soldier. And just shoot me a text if you do end up coming back early, ok?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll try. And, thanks. You, you too,” he gets out. He stands up, readjusting the waistband of his pants. “I’ll, uh, see you later.”

“See you,” they say through a yawn, waving at him from where they’re lying down. They’ve taken his spot, sprawled across the couch, tangled hair flayed out on the pillows. 

Cute , he thinks again, and hearing the thought in his brain makes him wanna panic. 

He doesn’t wanna panic, doesn’t wanna think about it at all, so he nods, shuts the door, and heads out to work with a cigarette hastily lit in his mouth. 

By the time it’s Carmy’s lunch break, he swears his vocal cords must have snapped by how tight he was wringing them. 

The soreness has never stopped him from lighting a cig, though. As he stands outside in the back, finally forced to go on his 30, he smokes rather than eating. There’s a sandwich in his pocket, one that was bearing the brunt of test ingredients. He can feel the aluminum wrapping at his fingertips. 

Eventually, he does eat, though, because he sees the way his hands are shaking when he flicks his lighter. He doesn’t wanna shake when he uses a knife, so he eats. He tastes it, but he doesn’t really taste it.

In truth, he wasn’t even planning on taking his lunch break at all. Most days, he forgets about it. The kitchen’s always busy, there’s always something missing, there’s always something that hasn’t been prepped that’s ruining everything, the lights in the hallways keep flickering because they need to fixed, Fak’s supposed to fix them, but he can’t, because Richie’s still out getting the replacement bulbs, the pile of papers on his desk are bigger than he remembers, he doesn’t have enough fucking time—

But then he’s in the middle of chopping an onion, and the cutting board slips. The half-chopped onion and its sliced offspring scatter on the floor with the cutting board. The sound of its fall draws Sydney in like a whip. 

“You okay? Need a bandaid?” Sydney’s already kneeling by him, helping him pick the onions off the floor. 

“I, I’m fine, didn’t drop the knife,” he explains, and it feels like an ocean current is rushing by his ears. “Fucking, I just—such a stupid fucking—” He sucks in a breath and goes silent. 

His entire body feels tight, wound like a spring. He can barely fucking breathe. 

“Hey.” Carmy turns his intense stare from the onions to Sydney, and when he sees her searching expression, he remembers himself. “Maybe you should go take your lunch break.”

“No, I’m fine, really,” he repeats, and he feels like he’s heard this before. From someone else. He can’t remember. Who was it? “The onions—we’re behind on onions—”

“I can handle onions for 30 minutes,” she interrupts, decisive and firm. “Seriously.”

Carmy’s about to say something, but then he’s looking at the onion half in his hand. His hand is shaking. 

“Okay,” he sighs after a beat. “Okay, yeah. Sorry. For fucking up.”

“It happens. We all have our moments.” She shrugs. When he keeps standing there, she makes this shoo-ing motion with her hand. “Go on. Take your 30!”

So here he is, taking his lunch break a whole hour later than he’s supposed to. Although it’s better than most days where he doesn’t take it at all.

She wouldn’t have had to tell you to take a break if you didn’t fuck it all up, he thinks to himself, eyebrows knitted together. When the last time I’ve fucked up something so fucking easy?

He thinks about his dream from last night. A familiar sight of red fire and flames up to the ceiling, crackling so loud it sounded like screaming. The only good part is that when he woke up, he wasn’t at the stove burning his place down. It hasn’t happened at this apartment yet. Carmy hopes it never happens. 

Just get it together, he thinks. He aggressively taps the ash out onto the decrepit ash tray they have in the back. It’s full. You’re supposed to be at this shit. So just be good.

“Cousin.” Carmy snaps his head up, and Richie’s at the door, stepping out. His presence yanks him out of his inner whirlpool, a quickly descending spiral. “Gimme one.”

Wordlessly, Carmy hands him a cigarette. Richie plucks it out of his hand like a flower.

“You had a lighter, but no cigarette?” Carmy comments, squinting at Richie pulling a busted up red lighter from his jean pocket. 

“Shut up,” Richie mutters, but there’s no heat behind it. “Got the wrong damn light bulbs,” he explains unprompted. 

“Alright,” Carmy sighs. He has so little energy that the frustration bypasses him completely, diving instantly into deflated acceptance. “Just return ‘em.”

“Can’t,” Richie says, and when Carmy gives him a look, he elaborates, “no receipt.” 

“ Dude .” Carmy opens his mouth, but then he shuts it again. It’s just not worth it. “Thanks anyway, cousin. We’ll get it done.”

“Don’t fuckin’ thank me, you asshole. I didn’t do shit.” Richie nudges him, but like before, it’s not an angry thing. “Also, toilet guy’s not comin’ today.”

“The fuck? Why ?”

“Canceled,” he replies simply. 

“Fucking hell,” Carmy mutters under his breath. “Did he say when he could reschedule?”

“Not yet.”

“Great.”

“Yep.” Richie tilts his head up, blowing out a slow stream of gray cigarette smoke. “Might as well wait for Fak to get his ass back in town at this rate.”

“I guess.” Carmy sighs. He thinks about all the things he still needs to do. “I dropped this onion I was chopping, earlier,” he mentions out of nowhere. 

“Okay.” Richie gives him a look. “And? You bitches chop those things up faster than I could cut one in half.” 

“I dropped it on the floor,” Carmy tries again, but Richie’s expression remains unchanged. “I never do shit like that.”

“Well, cousin, you did.” Carmy feels something in him deflate. “What’s the big deal?”

“Nevermind,” he replies, because he’s a coward. “Just—just forget it.”

Silence. The spark of a lighter. 

“I’m gonna leave early,” Richie says, like he can just do that. Which…he can, Carmy supposes. “If no one’s gonna show up, what’s the point?” He slaps Carmy’s back, and Carmy doesn’t watch him as he heads back inside. 

Guess all I need to do later is get rid of those papers on the desk , Carmy thinks to himself, idly moving the shortening cigarette between his lips. Then that’ll be it, I guess.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s gone home early. It’s hard to even imagine what he does on days like those. Sleeping, probably.  There’s nothing much else for him to do, not with how tired he is—

Shoot me a text, okay?  

He hears them in the back of his head all of a sudden, and he remembers. 

Oh, he remembers, hands moving to take out his phone. Almost forgot.

“Sorry to bother you, chef.” Carmy’s not sure how he didn’t hear the door opening. Marcus’ head pops out, nose covered in flour. “Just wanted to let you know that we’re gonna need more flour for tomorrow.”

“Order’s not gonna come for a couple days. I thought we had an extra bag left,” Carmy tries, but the guilty look on Marcus’ face explains it all. 

“Dropped it,” Marcus grimaces, and Carmy’s already fucking over it. 

“We’re all fucking up today, chef,” Carmy replies, and the day goes on. 

. . . . .

It’s a strange, delightful miracle, but he manages to get out of the restaurant before the sun sets.

Considering their collective track record, the fact everyone was able to leave early was cosmic intervention. It helps that the toilet guy didn’t come, in an unfortunate way, but still. Standing outside of the restaurant in the evening like this feels…weird. 

It’s not that Carmy’s complaining about a nice thing, it’s just that he wasn’t prepared to have anything good today.

Shower, dinner, and weed, he thinks absentmindedly on the way home. He juggles the three around in his brain. Just the thought of it feels like relaxing. A little.

With company , his brain helpfully adds, and his stomach squirms. 

Self control, he thinks. He needs more self-control. He can’t just keep thinking of them so indulgently. He’s not allowed to think of them that way, because it’s not fair to them. Even if no matter how many times he chastises himself, it never works. Even if they remain in his brain like sun-spots in his vision. Even if it’s not his fault that he just can’t help it.

The thing is, though, it always is. Even when it’s not his fault, it actually is. Always.

You dropped that fucking onion , his brain helpfully adds for no particular reason. Fucking loser.

Fuck off , he thinks back as he approaches his front door. Predictably, it does not stop.

Just as his fingers search for his keys in all of his pockets, he hears something that makes him pause, hands stopped on his waist. It’s music, distant and muffled. They’re probably listening to music in the kitchen. He stands, trying to place the song, but he doesn’t recognize it. 

He does recognize the voice that’s singing over the music, though.

Oh, he realizes. That’s them.

The way their voice clumsily layers over the music shouldn’t make him pause like this. He shouldn’t be doing this, standing in the doorway and listening rather than opening the door. The keys are in his hand. This, this is a breach of privacy, he tells himself, feeling a little dizzy with distress, he just needs to just—

There’s an abrupt, loud clang, and he shoves the door open.

Concern is on the tip of his tongue, but it dies there. The source of the noise lays face-down on the floor—a pan sitting in what seems to be tomato sauce. The matter next to it is what makes the words evaporate from his lips, like they were never there at all. 

They’re kneeled down next to the pan, paper towels in hand, but all they’re wearing is an apron. 

His mind blanks. He thinks he stops breathing. He’s never seen so much of their skin at once. He needs to look away, he thinks, but his eyes keep traveling, traveling, and traveling. It just happens so quickly. He doesn’t mean to look, he doesn’t, but they’re right there and he can see right down their—

“No, I—I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were coming back early!” They exclaim, quickly crossing their arms over their chest, and that’s what makes him tear his eyes away. 

“I—I thought I texted you,” he says quickly, hot face turned to the side, “on my lunch—...“ He stops there, the memory reconstructing itself. 

He forgot.

“It’s fine, I just feel bad about dinner, and, uh—okay, I’m just gonna change real quick, and then I’ll clean this up,” they reply, words rushing out. In the corner of his vision, he sees their bare legs dart to their room.

It seems wrong to just stand here staring at the tomato sauce slowly expand outwards on the floor, so he cleans it up. A couple paper towels later, he’s gotten most of it, and they’ve returned with a change of clothes.

“Sorry,” Carmy starts right as they also go “I’m sorry”. He pauses, meeting their eyes. It’s a lot easier now that they’re wearing leggings and a t-shirt as opposed to, well, nothing. Not to say he doesn’t appreciate the leggings. 

“Sorry you had to see me like that,” they sigh. “I don’t—I don’t usually walk around the place naked, I just—I didn’t think you’d be back—“

“I should’ve texted,” he interrupts. He struggles to not think about them walking around the living room naked. “I forgot. But it, it’s fine. You’re fine. Really. Sorry for not texting.”

“Okay. Cool.” They exhale, a tired noise. “And it’s okay. It happens.” They look at the floor and make a sound of surprise. “Did you clean this up?” The look they give him has far too much gratitude, and it feels like a searing hot iron.

“Yeah, uh.” His hands are moving like he’s trying to explain something, but no words crop up. “Felt weird not to.”

“Well.” They smile, grateful. “Thank you. That was gonna be dinner, but…” They trail off, looking at the floor with a sour expression. “I fucked up.”

“It’s just that sort of day today,” Carmy mutters.

“Shitty day for you, too?” 

“Yeah. Lots of shit went wrong.” Especially me, he thinks, but he doesn’t say it. “You?”

“Gotcha.” They shrug. “As for me—yeah. Really not my best day. It was just, uh, some family shit. You know how it is.”

Carmy makes a sound of acknowledgement. “That sucks.” He doesn’t know much about their family other than that they’re fairly shitty. It’s the same the other way around, too. 

“It’s whatever,” they say, even though it really isn’t, and he knows it. They look at the floor one more time before looking up at him. “Do you just wanna order pizza or something?”

“Yeah, I do,” Carmy replies, his words coming out much more despondent than expected. 

They settle on some pepperoni pizza from a place down the street. It’s a tried and true method—they deliver, it’s cheap, it’s oily, it’s cheesy, it’s good. Just talking about it makes Carmy taste it on the tip of his tongue. 

“You can go and shower if you want. I’ll get the door when pizza comes,” they offer. They’re standing at the sink, sleeves rolled up. 

“Okay, thanks.” Carmy pauses then, gears turning. He’s vaguely worried his memory is going to shit. “Did—did I just say I was gonna shower?” 

“Oh, no, you didn’t, you just always shower when you get home from work, right?” They say it like it’s the weather, like it’s familiar, and that’s when Carmy realizes because it is. After several months of living together, of course they’ve picked up on his habits. It doesn’t need to be a thing. There’s no reason for it to be a thing.

“I do,” Carmy replies faintly, and for some reason, that’s all he can say. 

“Thought so.” They look at him for just a moment, but it makes him feel like his body’s gone transparent. “I notice these things, you know.”

“Yeah.” Carmy looks at them when they turn back to the dishes, back facing him. “You do.” 

He tells himself he’s not gonna think any harder about any of it. He’s not gonna think about the singing, the apron, the way they just notice these things, but then he does. 

He’s in the shower, and he thinks about everything.

The water pressure is pathetic, but the warmth still feels nice. Between that and the sound of the running shower, it’s usually enough to quiet his thoughts. This time, though, it doesn’t. To his credit, he does try to think about anything else. 

He thinks about work, because he always does. He thinks about flour, about onions, about knives. He thinks about the shampoo lathered in his hair. He thinks about those lightbulbs they still need to get. He thinks about food. He thinks about them. He thinks about pizza. He thinks about the way they sing when no one’s around. He thinks about the way they know him. 

He thinks about them, knees on the floor only in a—

He thinks of bashing his head into the tile wall until he explodes.

“Shut the fuck up,” he whispers to himself, rivulets of hot water trailing down his forehead and dripping off his lips. “Shut the fuck up.”

The soreness is still present in his body, but that never quite goes away. He does feel a bit better now that he doesn’t have sweaty, sticky skin, though. It gets even better when he puts on a clean white t-shirt and his favorite sweatpants. It’s a nice surprise from his past self who did his laundry for him. 

This amount of niceness is okay. This is what he’s used to—a shower and comfortable clothes when he’s home from work. That’s enough.

He steps out into the kitchen with a damp towel on his head. He finds them sitting by their one shitty window that opens, pizza box in front of them and joint lit. It casts an orange glow to mix with the golden light from the window. 

“Hey, pizza’s here!” They slap their hand on the greasy cardboard box. “Just got this joint started for us, too.”

“So you weren’t gonna smoke it all on your own?” He doesn’t mean to tease, but he does. He slips into the seat across them, arms resting on the table they placed by the window. 

“I couldn’t smoke this whole thing even if I wanted to,” they protest. “Besides, joints are made for sharing. Here—now you get to take it. Isn’t that nice?” With their elbow propped up on the pizza box, they hold up the joint to him. The lit end of it sizzles a bright orange, emitting a thin trail of smoke up to the ceiling. 

“That is very, very nice,” Carmy agrees, taking it carefully from their fingers. Their face spreads into that contagious grin of theirs, and he’s far from immune. Sometimes he smiles so much around them that his face hurts, rusty and unused. 

Sure, he can blame that on the weed, but if he’s being honest with himself (a rare occasion), that’s a complete lie. Obviously the weed lessens the tension, the stress that winds him up tight. It’s not just the weed that gets him to relax, though. 

It’s them. There’s something disarming about their presence, something that makes him loose-lipped around them. Even when he’s sober, he finds himself feeling comfortable. He’s not quite sure how that happened, or if that’s ever happened. He supposes that isn’t a bad thing. Just something he’s noticed. 

He wonders if they’ve noticed. 

“You like the new rolling papers?” They tuck their knees under their chin, propping their feet up on the chair. 

“Hm.” Carmy lowers the joint from his mouth to give it a good look. He rotates it around in his fingers. “Strawberry?”

“Yeah, it’s strawberry,” they confirm, poorly hiding the excitement in their demeanor. Not that they were trying to. “Can you taste it?” 

He pulls from the joint, the edges of the paper sizzling red with the weed. It’s an even burn this time. He rolls his tongue around in his mouth after he exhales a cloud of smoke. 

“Still no,” he decides after a beat, and they sigh. 

“I don’t know why I ever get my hopes up.”

“I do taste something else in this, though.” He takes another hit, stews on it. “Lavender?”

“Shoulda known you would’ve gotten it on your first tray. Yeah, it’s lavender. I found some lying around.”

“You made this one pretty nice,” he observes, eyes tracing the shape of the joint. “Between the lavender and the new papers, I mean.”

“Well, y’know.” The smile on their face is small and shy. “I don’t smoke joints often, so I wanted to make it nice, and I, uh…”

They’re paused for so long that Carmy interjects. 

“And?”

“And I—want that joint,” they finally say, outstretching their hand. Carmy has a strong feeling that they weren’t originally going to say that, but he hands over the joint nonetheless.

“Strain?” He asks curiously. He can feel the body high creeping up his shoulders, fluid and light.

“The strain that gets you high,” they reply with a grin.

“Oh, thank god,” Carmy sighs in relief, and the way that makes them laugh… It makes his chest tight. 

“To actually answer your question, though—I dunno.” He likes watching the smoke drift from the tip of the joint as they talk, thin gray wisps in the air. “I think it’s a hybrid? Not sure if it’s more one way or not, though…”

“As long as it’s not the weed that puts you to bed.”

“Um…well, if you smoke enough of it, it can.”

They sit together like this for a while, just sitting and taking turns with the joint. It’s an easy, fluid exchange, flowing between them like smoke. No matter how much they both try to blow it out the window, it always comes back in. The smell of weed is strong in the air, earthy and pungent.  

Although he would never describe himself as a talkative person, sitting stoned across from them makes the words come out. Sometimes, he thinks he likes himself better when he’s high—his mind isn’t running circles around itself, and the soreness of his body just floats away. He feels more like a human than a poor imitation of one like he usually does. 

This weed smells kinda good, he thinks, and when they laugh, nose scrunched up, he realizes he said that out loud. 

“That’s literally what I’ve been saying,” they agree, a bright grin lingering on their face. “That’s how you know you’re a fuckin’ stoner!” 

“Feels weird to call myself a stoner,” he muses. He plucks the joint from their outstretched hand. It definitely looks shorter from when they started a moment ago. “But I guess…”

“If you like the smell of weed, you’re too far gone,” they say with a grave expression. “It’s so fucking over for you.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, equally as serious, and then they’re both bursting out into laughter. He likes the sound of their laugh—it’s unabashed, fills up the space. 

“Dude, I’m high,” they whisper after they both calm down, like it’s some sort of secret, and Carmy can’t stop himself from laughing all over again. “Oh my god. Are you high?”

“I—I think I might fucking be,” he gets out between laughs, and that sparks them straight into another cackle of laughter. He’s not supposed to be able to make others laugh, he doesn’t even make himself laugh—but then he’ll say something, and they’re lit up with laughter. 

“We need to eat this pizza now, ” they yell, projecting over their combined noise. They flip the pizza box open, and it smacks Carmy right in the face. 

“Oh,” he reacts mildly.

“Shit, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine, it’s not like you punched me in the face,” he reasons, but their guilty expression persists. “It didn’t hurt, it’s just cardboard.”

“I’m sorry, I’m high,” they sigh apologetically. 

“I know,” he replies with a little smile. His eyes drift down to the pepperoni pizza sitting before them, glorious in its perverse amount of oil. “So, we’re gonna eat this, right?”

“Oh my god, yes we are,” they gasp, and the moment is forgotten. 

When he tears off a pizza slice, the cheese stretches in thin, gooey strings. They grab the slice adjacent to it to snap the strings in half, but they’re both leaned back in their chairs, pizzas in hand, and the cheese is still connected. 

“This doesn’t seem right,” Carmy mutters, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “We should’ve just cut it.”

“How could we have predicted this?” They pull their pizza further back, and the string still doesn’t break. “Wow. I’m honestly impressed. I don’t think it’s ever been this insane before.”

“I think we’d remember.” He’s not sure why he’s still talking and not just running his finger across the string to break it. 

“I think we would, too.” They snort, shaking their head. “This—this is some spaghetti type shit.”

“What? Spaghetti?” He’s genuinely perplexed.

“I—I mean like—that fucking disney movie. With the dogs.” They pause for a moment, mouth silently moving. “Fucking—lady and the, the truck—”

“Uh.” He has to hold back a laugh. “...The lady and the tramp?”

“ Holyshittheladyandthetramp ,” they blurt out in a rush, and the cheese string finally snaps in half. “…Well, I guess it’s not exactly like the lady and the tramp, then.” They take a large bite of their pizza, and it reminds Carmy exactly how hungry he is. 

“You mean lady and the truck,” he corrects, and he can’t stop himself from smiling. Especially not with how good this hot pizza is, delightfully salty and greasy in his mouth. 

“Shut up, I was trying,” they grunt through a mouthful of food. 

“How exactly is this like the lady and the tramp, again? Or, uh, not like it?” 

“Well, it was just like it, but then the string broke.” Somehow, they’re already halfway through their slice. “Could’ve been a beautiful spaghetti moment.”

“Spaghetti moment,” he echoes under his breath, holding back a laugh. “Remind me how that scene goes?”

They go quiet for a moment. It’s like he can see the gears turning in his head. If he’s being honest, he already remembers how that scene goes, but…he wants to hear them say it. He needs to hear them say it. 

“Uh, well, they’re…eating spaghetti. The titular lady and tramp.”  Their eyes are fidgety, flickering back and forth between their pizza and the window. “And they’re sharing the plate, the two of them. They’re eating together, and, um…” 

“...And?” 

They meet his eyes, mouth hanging open, and then they close it. 

“Um, I don’t remember, actually,” they say, shaking their head and blinking. He sees it for the blatant lie that it is, and yet. “Do, do you remember?”

As he stares back at them, unable to look away, he wonders. He wonders about what this really means. About if this really means anything at all, about if he’s going to find out if it does. 

“I don’t remember,” he answers quietly, cowardly, and neither of them say anything else.

Out of the two of them, they’ve always been better with recovering from awkward moments, so they do. They start talking about something else, and the world keeps turning. But in the back of his head, Carmy remains in that moment, unwilling to let it go. 

Why did you say that you didn’t remember? He wants to say. Why didn’t I say that I remembered how it went? Because I remember. They kiss—they fucking kiss. Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what I wanted to hear?

But because he’s Carmy, he doesn’t say anything. He just eats.

He’s so hungry that the pizza disappears in minutes. It’s delicious, but he’s so high he’s not completely sure he can taste it. Somehow, it remains the best thing he’s ever eaten. 

The rest of the night is a blur. He remembers getting onto the couch at some point. They both decide on a random movie he doesn’t catch the name of. They finish off the joint on the couch together, sinking into its cushions. It burns hot in his throat as it reaches the end. 

And as it turns out, the weed he smoked is the one that puts him to bed. 

“...Ca…Car…” Someone’s calling him. “...Carmy, c’mon. You’re gonna complain about your neck tomorrow if you keep sleeping here.”

“Mhm,” he replies helpfully. He turns his head into the cushion. His body feels like an abstract blob, perfectly molded into the couch cushions.

“Okay, you made a good point. But. ” They laugh quietly, under their breath. “Movie’s been over for like 20 minutes now.”

“Mhm,” he repeats, nearly inaudible. He doesn’t wanna get up. Whenever he falls asleep, it always feels like he’s never gotten an hour of sleep in his life. There’s nothing he needs to think about, worry about. He’s warm and comfortable, and he doesn’t feel like letting that go just yet.

Everything goes silent again for a moment, save for the cars on the road. He begins to drift away again, slipping back into his dreamless sleep. 

But then there’s a hand on his shoulder, and it’s like a smoking brand on his skin. His eyes fly open and he jolts awake, jerking upright. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” they apologize, fretful. Between the dark of night and haze of sleep, they look pretty different. The blue light from the television is streaked across the blurry planes of their face.

“It’s fine,” he replies, drowsy. Speaking feels…heavy. Begrudgingly, he adjusts to sit up. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Weed,” they say with a shrug. 

“How, how long was I—?” He cuts himself off with a yawn, wide with condensation in the corners of his eyes. 

“Only like, 30 minutes.” They yawn back. Typical infectious yawning. “End of the movie sucked anyway.”

“Oh.” Pause. “What was the ending?”

“Love interest died,” they state plainly. “He told her about how he felt, got rejected, and then she died in a car accident. Pretty tragic.”

“Huh.” Carmy makes a face. “That does suck.”

“Yeah, a bit.” They’re idly fiddling with the remote, scrolling through Netflix without reading anything. “I feel like the movie was trying to say something profound about the unpredictability of life or something, but the writing was shit.”

“I guess it’d be too perfect if they got together,” he muses.

“I guess,” they echo. They turn off the tv, and the room goes dark. The only light is from the yellow street lamp right outside their window, wonderful in its inconvenient placement. It illuminates the shape of the back and leaves their face in shadow. “I think I remember how that scene went,” they say suddenly. 

“Oh.” Carmy’s heart feels stuck in his throat. “And how does it go?”

“Well, they’re—both eating spaghetti. Like I said.” They’re not facing him, leaving their face shrouded in shadow. He’s not sure if he’s imagining the shake in their voice or not. It’s beyond him why there would be any shakiness at all. “They somehow get the same noodle, so they, uh, kiss.”

“They kiss,” he repeats for some unknown reason.

“Yeah.” They let out a quick laugh, but it doesn’t sound like they actually find this funny. He wishes he could see the look on their face. 

“I don’t think pasta works like that,” he hears himself murmur faintly. For some reason, he can’t help but think that was the wrong thing to say. But he’s already said it. Maybe it’s the same reason as to why his heart is beating so urgently. 

“No, I, I don’t think so either,” they mumble. He refuses to place the way they’re feeling. 

I can’t fucking do this.

The thought resounds like a gong, hit with a mallet right next to his ear. 

“It’s late, I gotta head to bed.” It feels like someone else is speaking for him, moving his body for him. He can’t stop them. When he stands up, he avoids their face.

What the fuck are you doing?

Another thought resounds. He doesn’t respond.

“Right, I—didn’t even notice the time.” He pretends he doesn’t hear the strain in their voice. No, he didn’t word that right—there is no strain in their voice. “G’night.”

"Night,” he murmurs back.

This is enough, he tells himself as he falls into bed. His sheets are tangled. This is enough , he repeats, and it’s not because he’s scared, afraid, anxious, or any other stupid synonym. It’s because he believes it, needs to believe it. 

He tells himself, this is enough , even though he wonders, what is supposed to be enough? He doesn’t listen. He stamps down the protests, the thoughts that are out of line. The high usually helps with that, but it’s worn off, now just leaving him in a weary, sleepy state of things. 

This is enough, he thinks, and he falls asleep looking at their shrouded face behind his eyelids.

[fawnprincessblog]

Hi everyone, guess who's back.

After 2 months of absence i've decided to bring myself back on here and explain some things that have happened.

💗

After publishing a post a while back regarding incest, i had recieved a lot of hate since then. When i posted it I had no idea how much hate I was bound to receive from all of you once you guys saw it, and honestly i didn't think it would get that much attention. After realising it was clearly causing so much hate I posted an apology, which all you also thought was total shit, so I deleted that too.

And right after, I was bombarded with an ungodly amount of death threats through my inbox, people asking me to kill myself and end it. It was a whole lot, and I really didn't think that one measly post would set you guys off so fast. And honestly I was surprised to see how much there was. My inbox was full of them, and I couldn't handle it all.

Soon enough as expected one person had gone anonymous, sending inbox messages to my followers to report the 'heinous crime' I've committed by posting one silly thing, which by the way, put out a lot of false information. The person was over exaggerating, putting shitty words in my mouth. And I'm here now to talk about all the accusations the person has made. To the people who recieved the inbox message, here's your real explanation from the blogger who made the damn posts.

1. I 'nonchalantly' wrote twincest about Tom and Bill.

First of all, I have never in my life intended to ship the damn twins. If you have checked tumblr well enough, you should be aware there's tons of threesome sex fics about Tom and Bill, where they both fucked the reader at once. And if you fucking bothered to read my fic properly and not jump to conclusions to try so damn hard and cancel me, you'd know damn well Tom and Bill never even touched eachother in the fic that I wrote. They didn't have sex with eachother, they didn't DIRTY TALK eachother, and they did NOT do anything that would have come across as incest.

They both simply fucked the reader and talked to the reader, having nothing to do with each other in the fic. Get your damn facts right b4 you try to sound like a fucking smartass.

2. I want to be 'chained up and used.'

Kinks and fantasies everyone, c'mon. People have FUCKING KINKS. And mind you, this is tumblr. If you srsly see shit like this and start acting out because it makes you sad then clearly it's not for you so like just scroll? You have a damn finger, don't you? Unless, y'know, you cut the damn thing off.

Anyway, I think it's pathetic you're acting all petty over it cause you wanna cancel someone so bad and be the fucking hero of the day. Nobody cares, cunt.

3. I wanted to 'abuse' Bill.

To clarify this one, I do agree that the term 'abuse' was too strong. I don't intend to fucking abuse the poor guy, I just had no idea how to fucking word my sentence and how I was trying to get the damn message out. I've already edited my post on this one. So, chill out.

4. I'm 'anti-lgbt'?

This shitty one has been going around a LOT ever since I posted something regarding how annoying Bill was in the Kaulitz & Kaulitz series, where he talked alot about his sexuality.

First of all I'm not fucking homophobic. To let you guys know I am a Catholic Christian, (ik, not a very holy one) and supporting the lgbt community is definitely not on the list. And even if so, I do not disrespect anyone who's part of it. We aren't told to treat you guys any less. And for me, although I never encouraged the idea, I don't look lower on the person. Even I myself catch myself in a 'lesbian-feeling' situation sometimes.

And if you've seen the comments on the post I made about that Bill thing, all the comments agree with my anyway. We all collectively agree he went a little overboard but so what? I'm just saying. Suck on that, stupid hoe!

5. I support pedophilia.

Babe, check the post again and see how many people were totally okay with the damn post in the first place. I have never agreed ever that pedophilia was okay, and there's tons of older Tom fics with this age gap. Please, istg, do your research before crying over spilled milk to save yourself the embarrassment.

And, to let y'know, who ever sent these inbox messages, one of the friends that you sent these to—I think her name was 'pain of l0ve' or smtg—was totally one of the biggest supporters on that post asking for a full blown fic of older tom and the 17 year old girl. She uses to be my follower too. Dw, I have a screenshot before she blocked me and tried to act all shocked and surprised that I post those malicious things you said! ^^

mm...that really pissed me off ngl 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, that concludes it. Hope this answers your questions about all this misinformation that this person has spread in attempt to cancel me.

I also just want to put it out there that I'm really sorry for posting something like that, and now looking at it I do agree that it was weird. I apologise for anyone who got uncomfortable. All the death threats I've received weren't necessary though. I don't ever think it's right to go that far on anyone. Please be mindful sometimes. Other than that, I'm really sorry.

And I also wanna thank @itsangelll for being there for me when I couldn't answer all the haters myself. Girl you really helped me out, standing up for me and explaining the situation. Ilysm always 💗💗

But for the cunt that sent out all the inbox messages, I hope you had fun doing so anyways :3 I really do appreciate all the stalking and effort you put in just for me so you could cancel me and be heard! 🥺 Seriously the hero of the day! You really read through all my stuff so you could dig out the littlest things! Talk about dedication!! Quite obsessed I must say.

Kisses, love ya! 💋💋💗

[kellyvela]

hi!! i'm new to jonsa (just became a fan about a month ago haha!) and i'm not sure who to ask but i found this blog so i sent this message. do you have an idea how big the jonsa fandom is? i feel like tumblr and ao3 are the only websites where jonsa fans can have a safe space (for a lack of a better term i guess). in other websites such as twitter and reddit, it's not only that most people prefer other ships that include jon and sansa (like jonerice for example), jonsa seems actually hated? preferring other ships is one thing but being hated is another. though i guess partly that's because a lot of people hate sansa.

i'm just kind of curious since the community here on tumblr is so good 😭 i'm looking at posts from years ago to recent times and i love the art, the fics, the metas, and everything else. the community seems pretty active still too even if the show ended years ago and we have no idea when/if twow will be released lmao.

anyway, i'm not sure if i can find jonsa enjoyers on twitter and reddit. i think i tried some time ago but i couldn't handle the hate so i didn't try to dig deeper into those places.

¡¡¡WELCOME TO THE FAMILY!!!

I think we are big, used to be bigger, especially during the last 3 seasons of the show.

Some haters even claim that there's a secret jonsa agenda and we have a lot of money and power to change things, like making Sansa Queen in the North or paying producers to make an erotic film with Sophie and Kit as the main couple 🤷‍♀️

Tumblr and AO3 are safe places indeed, Twitter is full of haters but there's some of us there as well.

There are a lot of haters on reddit too, but there are a few pro jonsas as well.

They hated jonsa because we predicted the exact ending of the show, with aunty being the big bad guy and dying at the hands of a Stark.

Also jonsa interferes with sadly popular ships like jonerice, jon x fave sister and the cult of cujo (the hound).

Yes, a lot of people hate Sansa and they don't consider Sansa as a main character, so for her to end with a main character like Jon is almost sacrilege.

Anyways, don't mind the haters and enjoy our ship!

[puripurin]

Yan! Llama Hybrid x SheepHybrid! Reader

— Recently, on the farm, a bunch of coyotes and wolves started to snag some sheep hybrids into the woods when they would get too close to the fences. It has gotten so bad that they would do it in broad daylight.

The owners decided that they would introduce a new addition to the herd to combat the coyotes. A male Llama named Lumi. All of the sheep were skeptical at first because they all thought that it was a little odd that the new sheep would have such a long neck and a lot bigger in size, but soon enough, they couldn't help but warm up to him.

Lumi, on the other hand, was still in his awkward phase. He'd recently entered into adulthood and was feeling sad and lonely without his parents there to guide him, but it wasn't until he saw your gorgeous curls and your small little tail that wagged in excitement. Just in that moment, he'd decided to be your life-long mate and started the process of courting you.

You did not give a shit about Lumi. You only cared about the coyotes that ate the rest of the flock. You wanted to start making sacrifices to grow your cult of small critters such as squirrels and rabbits.

This was because you heard from a passing by sheep hybrid that was being transported to another farm about how you could obtain everything you wanted if people devoted their lives to you.

However, you didn't expect Lumi to be so dedicated to you that he'd easily deciphered your messages to your devout followers and your weekly gatherings.

As you walked out of the dead of night, with the intention of killing a coyote that night. But it was oddly still, as if it was waiting for something. The trees didn't ruffle against each other, and the cool wind was nowhere to be seen

You stiffened up and silently walked back. If one of the other sheeps found out about this whole cult thing you had going on, you'd be ousted and killed by the coyotes instead.

But, you were immediately thrown down and turned over. Your eyes widened in panic and started to attack the person who held you down silently, only to realize that blood was dripping on your face.

"My love, I've killed one of those tainted and unpure coyotes for your sacrifice. I would hate to see your delicate hands get stained with something unworthy of your desire... but why... Why do you yearn and look at someone else with interest other than me? ... Only I shall be your eyes and ears, my love..."

Random and barely edit post after months of not posting. I was watch yt shorts and i came across a video abt guard llamas w sheeps. Its been on my mind for 3 weeks and i started this 2 weeks ago. I only decided now to finish it.

You can see the point where i went fuck it because i had no idea what to do with the reader's background so i was like "Ooh maybe they want to smash the coyotes... what's close to smashing coyotes... Cult." Cult leader YN it is.

Anyways below is for the rest of people who want to know what happened after that incident.

I feel better about my dog's death, but we weren't able to get him back due to the poor weather and the fact he was last seen in a drain. So there wasn't a proper burial, but I'm happy that we didn't end up with 2 losses. We had them since they were puppies, and its upsetting that the younger one died, but i understand why they had to kill him.

He's a dangerous breed of dog even though he's docile most of them time. He was a cane corso, and my older dog is a rottweiler and pitbull mix. So not the most safest dogs to be around, but what are you gonna do when your country is busy locking up a man for money laundering bcs they shit at their jobs.

Right, if I'm not lazy enough, I'll go back and redo every one of my ocs bcs im on the verge of deleting them all from embarrassment. Then that will hopefully be a small week long event for my tumblr as im not used to those things. But this might take months.

Also, no won't do kinktober, im lazy, and smut isn't my forte. Anyways bye-bye, see yall when my coffin feels too stuffy~

(soz if this is shit as well bcs i didn't do a whole lotta explaining abt Lumi's behavior)

[the-s1lly-corner]

Maybe like Jax with a Betty Boop-like reader? Like the Reader just resembles Betty Boop and what not and is kinda similar to her

Jax x Betty Boop type! Reader!

Relying on my friends brief breakdown on Betty's character since I haven't watched anything betty boop stuff <\3

So if theres any inaccuracies blame my friend/j

Uhuh I dont think imma write much tonight, I think I got sick/am starting to get sick <\3

Written on mobile

From what I gathered from my friend, betty boop is a sweet and caring character but is not a pushover

I think that past bit is going to be a real big factor in your dynamic with jax

Honestly jax seems like the type to take advantage of someones kindness and naivety in order to further push his goals and pranks

But again, you're not totally clueless, and given that you're stuck here with him you kind of. Get to know his deal a lot

Honestly I can kind of see the dynamic being similar to how I hc ragatha and jaxs friendship to be like; you keep him in line and he, for the most part. Behaves around you

Sure hes going to be tempted to pull some shit with you, but

You know, it's a lot less frequent than the others

If you physically resemble betty boop, I have a post somewhere from a few days ago where its jax w/ a really pretty reader ! I didnt get a link for it and tumblr doesnt let me save ask drafts on mobile, so <\3

Should have a Jessica rabbit gif, refer to that post to how jax feels about your looks

TDLR for the post he is down BAD like BAD BAD I'm talking like

Making comical heart eyes and stamping his foot when you stroke his chin bad

Hobbies! I also have a jax x singer reader from the other day! So have fun with that + refer to that for this !

He would make dumb joke song suggestions, I think

Dancing... hmm...

I think I said before somewhere that I hc jax cant dance at all, so don't expect him to ask to dance with you. He hates embarrassing himself

[monamipencil]

— (s)exercise | ft. aerobics instructor! soonyoung

⋆ pairings; soonyoung x fem! reader ⋆ genre; smut, crack, fluff ⋆ w.c; 3.4k+ ⋆ warnings; aerobics instructor! soonyoung, pseudo cheating (no cheating actually occurs, it'll make sense i promise), raw sex, creampie, oral (f. receiving), he gets cross-eyed at the sight of tits, multiple positions and multiple orgasms, lots of cursing, they're down bad for each other, he yaps and she listens, talks of kinks in public lmao, mentions of exhibitionism and roleplaying and i have no idea abt aerobics actually :) ⋆ a/n; first soonyoung smut and if u saw this post before, no you didn't (tumblr hates me). minors do not interact.

You check your phone for the address and look at the floor sign. Second floor. Shoving the gadget inside your duffle bag, you shuffle around, looking around for your class. At the end of the floor, a few neon lights flashing aerobics catch your attention. 

You jog towards the door and push it open. To your relief, a few people have already gathered in the room. Strolling the room, you settle down your bag and remove your jacket. 

The room is everything you expect from an aerobics classroom. Well-lit with mirror-covered walls. A platform is at the front of the room, slightly elevated compared to the floor. 

Aerobics doesn’t fall under your general list of interests. The only reason you find yourself here is because of your boyfriend, who suggested this class because he was interested and wanted you to take it up as well. Truth be told, you’re looking forward to this as well. The myriad of benefits root your interest. But your boyfriend’s interest tops everything else. 

A chorus of greetings echoes through the room, and you notice the new arrival. You jog towards the crowd and stand somewhere in the second row. 

And then, you notice him. 

Upturned eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. The most perfect pair of lips stretched into a grin. The white tank top he's adorning displays his strong shoulders and toned arms. He’s beautiful. You force yourself to keep your eyes on his face. 

He looks around the room with a small smile. Your heart skips a beat when his eyes find yours. You smile at him, and he nods, grinning at you. 

“Good evening, everyone. I'm your instructor Soonyoung for beginner classes. I hope you all have a good time here.” He claps, and the women and men around you cheer. 

You're unable to take your eyes off him, drawn by his allure. Before you know it, the class starts, and upbeat techno music fills the room. 

He stands on the platform, starting off with a few stretches. Shoulder stretch, toe touch, side bend, hip rotations. His back faces the class, and he monitors through the mirror. Your heart beats wildly against your rib cage each time you lock eyes with him.

You huff a short breath, following through the exercises. The warm feeling never leaves your chest, and your knees grow weak each time he looks at you. 

Soonyoung is facing the class now. His toned body, drugged with adrenaline, moves effortlessly to the music. You remind yourself to keep your body moving instead of gawking at him. 

Sweat mats his hair to his forehead. A gentle shade of pink settles on his skin, but he doesn’t look tired. Ardor seeps from him, causing you to keep up with his moves. 

Once again, his eyes land on yours. But this time, he lingers longer. You dare to hold eye contact as you mirror his movements. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, and your heart hammers inside your chest. He shifts his eyes towards the others. 

Stray hair sticks to the side of your face, and sweat gathers at your back. But you could care less about everything else now. The room is sweltering, though you don’t know whether to chalk it up to the exercise or your very hot instructor. 

“Alright! 1, 2, 3!” his raspy voice booms as he switches to another move. This involves jumping, and you can’t help but ogle his perfect muscles each time his shirt rides up. 

Unbeknownst to you, Soonyoung observes you. More specifically, your eye placement. A smirk graces his lips, but he doesn’t let his gaze linger too long. He tries his best to not let his eyes dip down. 

And so the class continues. 

You get stuck during some moves, and embarrassment crawls on your skin when he double-checks if you are ok. Even through the crowd of bodies, his eyes always find yours somehow. And maybe you are imagining it, but you swear his eyes dipped down to your chest. 

With warmth pooling in your stomach, you try to get through the class. You stare at him. He stares back and smiles. 

“Hi,”

Startled by the sudden presence, you almost spit out the water in your mouth. You manage to swallow it, trickles of the fluid flowing down your chin to your neck. Soonyoung follows the water drop till it reaches your cleavage, disappearing behind your tank top.

“Oh, hi!” you chirp with unfiltered joy but with much regret you bite your tongue right after. He flashes you a grin and steps closer to you, “So, liked the class?”

You nod your head, “Yep! I'm considering to continue here.”

His grin only widens, cheeks puffing up in the most adorable manner. If it weren't for his toned biceps and pecs peeking out through his tank top, you would've paid his cute face more attention.

The other attendees are trickling out of the studio, too immersed in their conversations which reminds you to take off as well. You grab your duffle bag, and flash your hot instructor a small smile.

You open your mouth to bid your goodbye when he cuts you off, “You can stop acting, you know?”

Confused by his statement, you blink and stare at him. All while he tongues his cheek, and leans closer towards you. Your lungs heave, intimated by his proximity.

He takes a step closer and you, a step back. So it goes, till your back hits the wall and he closes the distance between you, pressing his body against yours.

“Soonyoung, we shouldn't do this” you whisper. Yet arousal floods your veins and his body heat wafts to your sweltering skin. With a gulp, you look into his eyes. He moves closer and you tighten your legs together.

A yelp escapes your lips when tugs you to him, enveloping your body with his arms. His muscles press against your body through the material of shirt. His defined arms feel so right around you. And you can't help but drown in his eyes.

His hands drift down, taking purchase on your ass. He kneads them in his hands, pushing you further into his embrace. You give in, wrapping your arms around his neck and connecting your lips to his.

Soonyoung moans at the contact and wastes no time in kissing you back. His tongue darts past your teeth, gliding over yours. The heat of his mouth is a much welcomed one and you feel yourself growing hotter with each passing second.

Your arousal travels down south, making your cunt throb with need and dripping down your folds. Your panties stick to you like second skin, adding to your heightened feelings.

“Soonyoung, someone might walk—”

“Yeah, fuck.” He pulls back, chest heaving with each breath he forces in.

He takes a moment to compose himself before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and guiding you to the door. You grab your bag in a hurry and follow him. But he stops right before and says, “Locker.”

With a chaste kiss to your cheek, he jogs out to the destination. You wait for a few seconds before leaving as well, following your instructor who's a few steps ahead of you.

You barely make it to the door that reads staff only, before you're pulled into the room with a force that knocks breath off your lungs. His hands are all over you again and he kisses your neck and travels up to your lips.

Your lips connect once again. You cherish the softness of his lips and the warmth of his tongue. But it doesn't reach the intensity of the previous one as he reduces them to pecks and pulls away.

Soonyoung locks the door and pulls you further into the locker room. Your eyes dart all over the new space, taking in the silver lockers and the wooden benches. It's well-kept and neat with the smell of some cheap air freshener.

You don't mind it though. Why would you even spare anything else a thought when your hot instructor stands in front of you, removing his barrier of a top?

You take a moment to appreciate the fine specimen standing before you. His abs glisten under the studio lights, giving him a god-like image. He looks like a fucking Greek god.

“Done gawking?” The corner of his lips tug up, smug lining them. His eyes are way darker than what you observed at the start of the class. Lust swirls through his irises, and the thoughts behind them seem to tread nowhere near innocence.

“Come on, give me something to stare at too.”

You scoff and give him what he wants, removing your tank top to expose your breasts, still hindered by the sports bra. His eyes are fixated on them, silently begging you to take it off as well.

The bra comes undone, landing on the floor soundlessly. And, he's on you, like a fiend out for blood. His hands cup your breast, thumbing your pebbled nipples. He pinches and tugs on them, inflicting you with the right mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Fuck, come here.”

He settles down on one of the wooden benches in the middle and tugs you down to perch on his lap. This position gives him the liberty of being face to face with your tits. And he's already cross-eyed at the prospect of having his lips around them.

He does just that, kissing the flesh of your breast before taking one nipple into his mouth. He moans as soon as his tongue greets your sensitive skin, licking all around it. He sucks with a fervor that makes your pussy throb and clench around nothing.

Soonyoung moves to the other one, doing the same but this time, he toys with your other nipple. He flicks the bud with his tongue, and circles the areola. He finishes with a loud pop, looking at the mess he created with a cheeky smile.

You shudder, trying to catch your breath. His dazed visage and hung open mouth prompts you to kiss him. His hands skate up the naked skin of your back, waking goosebumps as he does so. Sweat prickles your skin and your core swelters with an insatiable need. He takes your breath away with his kiss as well breaths life down your lungs.

Something poking your thigh shifts your attention. Fucking hell, did he just throb?

You don't hesitate to wrap your fingers around his clothed cock. It causes him to hiss and whine immediately, hips bucking into your hand for attention. A chuckle slips past your lips and you eye his face, contorting in ecstasy, though you've barely done anything.

Hooking a finger under his waistband, you pull his boxers and tracks down to his thighs. “Shit—” he sounds like he's about to cry. A smirk lines your lips.

You slowly wrap your hand around his length, giving it a few experimental pumps. A plethora of curses fly from his lips, prompting you to thumb his tip. And, just like you had predicted, he gasps and cries out loud when you tease his slit.

As much as you'd like to tease him further, you're way too horny and pent-up. You get up, pulling his tracks down further and let it pool down on the floor. He kicks them off completely before purchasing his hands on your hips.

Wide, lust filled eyes stare up at you. He kisses the exposed skin on your abdomen before pulling down your tights. You help him get rid of it and without any warning, he presses his thumb on your folds. The pads of his fingers rub on the ruined cloth, occasionally grazing your clit.

Soonyoung strips you bare, tossing your panty to rest of the clothes. He kneels on the floor and kisses your mound before traveling further to your core. He tongues your folds, sucking and slurping on your clenching hole before shifting his attention to your clit.

He fixates there, sucking on your little nub with everything he's got. Wanton moans fill the locker room as he flicks his tongue on the bundle. You card your hand through his hair and force him further into your cunt.

Hiking a leg up on the wooden bench, you give him better access to your needy core. “Fuck, wanted to do this the moment you stepped into the studio,” warm breath wafts against your cunt as he mutters, drunk on your essence.

His tongue explores your folds again. He pushes out his tongue and moves his head up and down to lick stripes on your cunt. The brush of his nose against your clit makes you gasp and ride his face as you hold his head still.

He doesn't mutter a word, opting to obey your wishes while you use him for your pleasure. You grind your hips on his tongue, desperately seeking a release. He moves his head in sync with your hips, licking all over your cunt and your hole.

You grow breathless and pace up your speed. Wetting two of your fingers, you bring them down to rub your clit while grinding on his tongue.

Soonyoung leaves imprints on your thighs with his nails, forming moon-shaped marks. You look fucking divine in his eyes right now, and he can only focus on your shut eyes and your lips that form the perfect ‘o-shape.’

Your orgasm washes over you with a shudder and a gasp, “shit.”

Your hips buck into his tongue and your legs quiver, the strength leaving your body slowly. He licks up all your juices before sitting on the bench and pulling you onto his lap.

His cock prods your core, throbbing and oozing with precum. You hold onto his strong shoulders as he rubs the tip on your folds, mixing your fluids together.

“Soonyoung,” you whine and push your tits on his face. He mutters a curse, and pushes his tip in. He slips with no effort, thanks to how soaked you are. He's the perfect cock, sitting snugly inside you now.

“Fuck, you're throbbing.”

You bury your head in the crook of his neck, trying not to lose it. He shifts under you, finding a more comfortable position. Curling your arms around his broad shoulders, you press your lips to his in a soft kiss.

You press your chest to his, feeling the searing heat of skin on yours. His hands skate down your back to your ass. He gropes and squeezes them, kneading the flesh.

“Ah—shit, stop clenching.”

Without any warning, he thrusts. It catches you off guard, prying a loud moan from your chest. “Oh fuck, yes!”

“You sound so pretty,” he whines, moving his hips up and down. He drives his cock into you cunt with a pace that gets your mind all fuzzy.

You meet his hips halfway, bouncing up and down on his cock. Your moans sync and the sound of skins slapping fills the locker room. His cock fits snugly between your gummy walls, hitting all the right spots. Your arousal drips down his cock, forming a creamy ring around his base.

While you're drunk on his cock, Soonyoung is entranced by your tits as you bounce on his cock. He wraps his lips around your nipple, savoring how it feels in his mouth. The flicking of his tongue makes you curse and moan his name.

Suddenly, he stops his movement and pulls out. Confused by what he's doing, you quietly observe him. Standing up, he gently pushes you to the locker. The cold metal bites your skin, providing your searing skin some relief.

“Wrap your leg around me,” he mutters, already pulling your leg up to his hips. You do as he asks, wrapping it around his hips while the other stays planted on the ground.

He guides his cock into your cunt again, filling you to the brim. He rubs your clit while thrusting sloppily. You can't help the moans that escape you. He just knows how to make your body writhe in pleasure. His other hand holds your leg as he thrust lazily.

Your moans egg him on and your lower lip tucked between your teeth drives him absolutely crazy. He picks up his pace, driving his cock into your cunt like a wild animal. That paired with his harsh rubs on your clit makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Oh, fuck fuck fuck.”

Your nails dig into his back, as you try to keep yourself grounded. But it's in vain with him moving his hips with expertise and god, his fucking hand on your clit is driving you insane. Your stomach tightens with another impending orgasm. He knows how to make you cum too.

You clench around his length wildly, bringing his climax nearer as well. It hits you sooner than you expect and absolutely drives you off the cliff. Your legs quiver and so does you body, shaking with the intensity of the release.  

Soonyoung fucks you through your high, chasing his own. It doesn't take much time for his cock to throb, spilling ropes of cum inside your cunt. He ceases his movements, breathless and quivering.

He embraces you, resting his head on your shoulder. You comb your hand through his soft locks while trying to catch your own breath.

“Ugh, we need to hit the showers.”

You come back from the shower, changed into new clothes when you notice Soonyoung cleaning the benches and the floor. You feel bad but also can't help the chuckle that escapes you.

The sound makes him stop his cleaning, eyes snapping to you. Your hot, sexy instructor is now replaced by your flushed and tired boyfriend.

He discards the cleaning gloves and rag somewhere and cleans his hands before approaching you. He flashes a grin at you and pinches your cheek, followed by the loud smack of his lips on it.

“So? how was my class? Am I a good teacher?”

“Yeah, it was good. You were good. For both teaching and fucking by the way.”

He giggles, and pulls you into a tight hug. “I love you so much. And are you really considering to continue?”

“I love you too and yes. I found a new hobby,” His grin widens, pink dusting his cheeks.

“Not just aerobics but I also found torturing you very joyous.”

He stops smiling, lips tugging down. You can already hear the whine from miles away.

A whine escapes his lips causing you to smile and laugh. “Stop laughing! I literally would've cum untouched just by looking at you in that fit.”

You pat his head and move to take your duffle bag. He follows behind you, stopping his rant for a second to retrieve his bag as well. Only for a second though.

“Also? where are the staff in this building? I thought we'd get caught multiple times.” You ask, genuinely confused by the lack of souls wandering the studio.

“Slow fridays. The other studios are closed for the weekend except for the gym.” He explains, “and is that another kink of yours? getting caught?”

“You wish.”

“I actually discovered something.” He informs, eyes refusing to look at yours. A shy visage takes over his face and you wonder why he's acting like that. You hum, telling him to go on. 

“I almost creamed myself when you acted like you didn't know me.” Confusion takes over and you stop in your tracks to look at him, incredulously.

“Do you have abandonment kink or something?” 

“What? No! like—you acted like we were strangers and we were doing something sinful. I'm pretty sure you even said that you had a boyfriend and that you shouldn't cheat him.”

You laugh at his statement and continue walking out of the building with him following you. “First of all, I never said that. Second, I think you like roleplaying.”

It's like a bulb lighted up above his head when you say that and he's struck in realisation for a few seconds. “But roleplay...” his voice dwindles down, realising it's not the best to talk about kinks loudly in a crowded street.

He clears his throat, and continues in a much lower voice. “Isn't roleplay like dressing up?”

“Yes,” you affirm, “But also like scenarios. Say for example, I can roleplay as the next door milf and you, the horny bachelor.”

“Fuck, can we do that?”

Laughter booms from your chest and you raise your hand to hit his chest. But in the process, your hand grazes his crotch and he's hard.

You both look down at the newcomer. “I think we better get home fast, or we might be exploring your exhibitionism kink as well.”

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 1

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue

Tinder is not a great place to look for boyfriends, but neither is the workplace.

Gavi x Physiotherapist! reader. Slow burn. I can't make things fast he's gotta work for it. Smut? Not in this part but maybe eventually.

A/N: Hi everyone! Not super new on Tumblr but I have never been brave enough to post a fic despite my constant maladaptive daydreaming about imaginary scenarios. The stress of being sick and not wanting to write my personal statement have lead me to actually write this and post it online. Please be nice, hope you enjoy!

Song inspo: Just Pretend - Bad omens

Writing inspo: Plot inspired by @zeegaazeegaah and their amazing Gavi x physiotherapist imagine. Other inspirational accounts will be tagged at the end.

TW: None

Word count: 4.8K

"So what do you do?"

y/n hated this question. Even being asked for nudes might be preferable to being asked about her job. y/n had been on 12 first dates since moving back to Barcelona, and without fail every one of them had been ruined by this simple question. She considered lying - she could pass as a student or a waitress or even a model (ok maybe not a model): there were literally thousands of jobs she could pretend to have. But, being the idiot hopeless romantic that she was, she decided to be honest with the man across from her. What if Thiago from Tinder was her soulmate? She didn't want to ruin it by lying.

"I'm finishing my sports medicine and physiotherapy certification, so I am working with one of the football clubs here to do practical training and gain experience."

"Oh that's cool! Which club? You can tell me, I know most of the 3rd and 4th tier Catalan clubs, so I'll probably know it even if it's really small."

Wow. Thiago from Tinder was an overachiever: he messed up before she even said which club she worked for, which was faster than every other man she had been out with in the last four months. y/n took a deep breath and resisted the urge to leave before confessing where she worked.

"I actually work at a pretty well known club... F.C Barca. I think you might of heard of it?" y/n watched this man's jaw visibly drop. His eyes got wide and lit up, like someone had told him he had just won a brand new car.

"You're a physio at Barca?? No way! That's my team! I think I would actually commit manslaughter if Pedri asked me to. So you get to see all the players every day? And Xavi! Have you ever spoken to Xavi? Do you know he won Spain their first world cup? You might be too young to remember. That's so amazing!"

y/n felt all the muscles in her head tense as she focused all her energy on not rolling her eyes. A fanboy. Typical. This was the most common response she got when she said her place of work out loud. 6 of the last 12 first dates had been major fanboys for the club, talking endlessly about how they would steal and kill and get on their knees for Barca. One had even been so bold as to ask if she had ever seen Lewandosky naked, to confirm if some measurements he had seen online were true. While the fans were annoying, the haters were even worse. 4 different dates had said they felt bad that she worked at a "dying club", throwing up football statistics, and going red in the face when she said she could not possibly care less about who had more Champion's League wins.

Then there were those that went out of their way to offend her. You would think that a man trying to get laid would have some more common sense. But that didn't stop one of her tinder matches from calling her a liar in the middle of a restaurant. He was still on his first glass of wine, leaning back cockily in his chair when he said that La Liga would never allow female physios to work with the first team because women couldn't "handle the intensity of football injuries." She should have gotten up and left when he said that, but he was 6'3 with a brand new Porsche, so she let him buy her dinner and drive her home before telling him that she genuinely hoped he never interacted with a female doctor ever again, even if it was to save his life.

The worst had been when she went out with Jose. He had invited her to a pretty expensive spot in central Barcelona. They were having an amazing conversation until the fated job question. She had downed a good amount of wine at that point, and wasn't as cynical about the reaction as she usually would be, so she spoke about her role with pride. Big mistake. He perked up, then threw his head back and laughed. He laughed so loudly it startled the waiter clearing plates from the nearby table. "21 years old and working as a physio for F.C Barca... Who did you have to sleep with to get that job, hm? Xavi? La Porte himself? Or maybe someone at the university? Regardless, you must fuck like a pornstar to have landed a job like that. Can't wait to try it first hand." y/n said some choice words about Jose and his micropenis, and promptly left, seeking to avoid assault charges that night.

The truth was that y/n was extremely talented at what she did. She grew up watching football with her father and brother, developing an interest in working in sports professionally. She worked herself half to death during high school to be accepted into a sports science program in the U.S. She interned with the college teams there, learning about sports injuries and treating them. She finished her program in three years, and despite programs across Europe fighting for her, she came back to Barcelona to finish her physiotherapy certification. She would be lying if she said it was just for her family and friends. The program in Barcelona advertised opportunities to work with F.C. Barca, her favorite football club since birth. It was a love she inherited from her father, as shown by all her childhood pictures in the Blaugrana uniform.

The program was harder than expected. She was one of 7 female first year students, and the only girl in her year that wanted to work with the first team. y/n was made aware that this might work to her advantage now that professional football was pushing for more female representation (in referees, coaching staff, and now on the medical team). The guys in her class either hated her guts or wanted to sleep with her (sometimes both) - it really was like legally blonde without the law.

In the middle of August, close to the beginning of the new season, all the applicants for the Barca placement were called into the university on a Sunday. Their professor introduced Dr. Gonzales, the head physiotherapist for the club. y/n started to sweat despite the air conditioning hitting her directly. She was terrified to even breathe wrong in the presence of this man.

"It's a pleasure to be here with you all today. Thank you for your hard work in submitting to fill the assistant physiotherapist position at F.C. Barcelona. Now, there have been rumors that we are hiring a student to fil this position because it is cheaper and we are broke, but I would like to assure you all now that it's not true."

The two boys in front of her snickered quietly, one whispering a "yeah right" to the other. Dr. Gonzalez looked up at the boys. "You two giggling in the back. You don't seem like the type we need at Camp Nou. You can leave now." Everyone in the room sat up straighter after that. Everyone was on military behavior, not wanting a wrong look or a chair squeak to blow their chance. "As many of you know, one of our strikers, Ousmane Dembélé, presents with consistent right hamstring tightness, leading to frequent injuries."

As Dr. Gonzalez turned to face the screen, y/n found enough bravery to pull out a pen and paper to take notes. The doctor continued to describe the player's condition, his playing style, and the current course of treatment being used. After speaking for 25 minutes (while facing the screen instead of the students), he turned around and addressed them. "Your project is to develop a continuous muscular therapy treatment for Dembélé in the next two days. The best and most cost effective method gets the job placement. You at the back," he pointed at y/n, "Smart choice to take notes. I advise you not to share."

Y/n drove home that evening checking her rear-view mirror every few seconds. The possibility of being followed by one of her classmates so they could steal her notes was low, but never zero, and so she did both of the locks tightly on the door. She sat at her computer and got to work right away. Truth be told, she felt like the whole assignment was kind of a trick. Dr. Gonzalez had told them the current treatment plan for Dembélé, which had obviously been working seeing as they kept using it. She made a few adjustments based on leg dominance and the anticipated excess strain of playing more minutes each game, and then she decided to facetime her friend Angelika while she made the PowerPoint look pretty.

"Good evening Dr. y/l/n, finally ready to ask for my hand in marriage? My parents always wanted me to marry into medicine." y/n rolled her eyes and smirked. She had met Angelika when she was living in the US through a Facebook group for Spanish students studying abroad. Ever since then, not a day had gone by where they hadn't spoken (except once when Angelika had dropped her phone into a pint of beer and couldn't get it fixed for three days).

"You know I'm ready when you are gorgeous, just send your ring size. What're you up to?"

"Nothing much, just scrolling on the internet trying to find clubs that are no cover for ladies tomorrow. You're still coming out with us right?" y/n looked away from her computer and looked at Angelika with the "I'm about to bail on plans look" that was all too familiar. "Y/n!! You cannot be cancelling plans with us again! You haven't been anywhere except your house and the university in like six weeks! People will start to think you're with child and in hiding."

"I didn't know I was the new virgin Mary." y/n quipped, trying to make her presentation equally professional and cute. "You're not, because that would require you being a virgin. I know it feels like it's growing back because you haven't looked in the direction of a man in centuries." y/n could only shake her head. It was not a lack of trying. "Well, I'm presenting to the Barca head physio Wednesday morning, so if you ever want a chance at seeing the inside of that locker room, you need to let me skip out on tomorrow."

Angelika sighed and threw herself on the bed dramatically. "Fine, but you need to be our DD and come pick us up after. Shockingly, it's really hard to order an Uber while drunk." y/n agreed to pick the girls up from the club at the end of the night, an spent the rest of the evening chatting idlily with her friend, living vicariously through the stories she told.

The following day, y/n spent all morning refining her presentation. She spent over an hour watching videos about the Barca training facility to see if there was any equipment she had overlooked in creating her treatment plan. The day progressed as normal - cleaning, cooking, practicing her presentation, watching TV on the couch. As 1am rolled around, she still hadn't received any communication from Angelika. While she was not an inconsiderate person, Angelika did have her moments where she would completely forget about the world around her: that was when she met a man who showed interest in her. Despite being gorgeous and intelligent, Angelika, like most girls in their early twenties, suffered from a condition known as "Nothing is true about me unless an attractive man says it". y/n also suffered (mildly) from this affliction, but being surrounded by weirdos all day in university had helped substantially. She knew that if she did not leave then, she would never get any sleep, and so she grabbed her car keys and headed to the address of the club that she had been sent earlier on.

She parked several blocks away from the club, and called Angelika for a record 41st time. y/n knew she wasn't going to receive an answer, so she changed into a tight satin top and a pair of heels that she always left in her car in case of emergencies (What if Joao Felix decided to take a random trip to Barcelona and she was unprepared?). She could feel the street practically vibrating beneath her as she walked towards the club. She was let in easily - it was a Tuesday night and the establishment needed female patrons. She kept close to the bar, and asked the girls working there if they had seen her friend. Once y/n pulled up a picture of Angelika, the girls laughed to one another.

"Oh yeah, she's up in the VIP section. They've dropped like 6k on bottle service already."

y/n felt the vein in her forehead start to pop out. Of course Angelika had found herself a man that would take her to the part of the club that was the hardest to get into. Especially on the night when y/n really needed to get home. Because why wouldn't that happen? She made her way over to the VIP section, where she was promptly stopped by two large bouncers, who obviously didn't believe that she just wanted to grab her friend. While standing there deciding whether she should just make Angelika order an Uber (or have this new lover order one for her), she was tapped on the shoulder. She turned around and was met by a very attractive man (boy? His age was hard to determine in the dark).

"Hey, do you need to get into VIP? Are you here alone? " "That's a really creepy question to ask a girl in a club." y/n yelled back over the thumping music. What were all these people doing out on a Tuesday? "No not like that. I can help you get in if you want." "I don't really want to get in, I just want to get my friend and leave." The man (boy?)'s eyes lit up. "Perfect! My tea- friend. My friend that I'm with is pretty drunk and the person that drove us is in VIP. I can't leave him by himself because he's kind of rowdy even when sober. Could you watch him while I go grab them?"

y/n didn't want to look too deeply into a good thing, but the offer felt suspicious. She scanned the boy (she had decided that he was young), looking for any indication that he could live up to his end of the bargain. She looked down at his feet, noticing the white Alexander McQueen sneakers. She decided that she could trust him, and if not, she was still in a public place, and someone would notice if she was being dragged out of a club kicking and screaming. She walked over to where the friend was and had to stifle a laugh. Another boy was sprawled across two high bar chairs, legs up and head rolled back. He was wearing a pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses despite it being the middle of the night and them being indoors. His white button up had the first two undone and the collar popped, like he was Pitbull in 2011. He was in a pair skinny jeans (because, as y/n discovered quickly, everyone in the world had moved on from skinny jeans except for Spanish men) and some white Dolce and Gabanna sneakers. Where were these kids getting all this money?

"Pablo! Look who I brought you! This is..." The first boy looked back at you expectantly. "y/n". "y/n! She's really great and going to take care of you while I go get Pepi so we can go home." The drunk one (now Identified as Pablo) lifted his head, and tilted the sunglasses just enough to get a good look at the girl. "Wow Angel, nice job." The first one (Angel apparently) apologized to y/n, explaining that Pablo was a "really flirty drunk" but that he was never like this sober. y/n showed Angel a picture of Angelika, and off he went back into the beast that was the club. y/n stood awkwardly by Pablo, who appeared to have fallen asleep. Suddenly, he sprung up and asked her, "so what is a pretty girl like you doing in the club by herself?"

"I'm not here to go clubbing, just picking up a friend." "You're dressed like you're going clubbing." "Right, because they wouldn't let me into the club in my scrubs." "Scrubs? You look too young to be a doctor." The music was starting to take a toll on y/n, the thumping rhythm giving her a splitting headache. "You don't look old enough to be let into the club, but everyone is full of surprises." Pablo did not take this comment well. He stood up, feeling all the blood rush to his head as he rested his weight against the bar. He pushed his glasses up his head, and looked straight at her.

This was the first opportunity y/n had to admire how gorgeous Pablo was. The glasses pushed his hair back on his head, showing off his striking eyebrows and cheekbones. His eyes were wide and glassy, making him look like a teenager who had gotten drunk for the first time. For all y/n knew, that could be the case. His nose slopped downward, a subtle bump in the bridge like it had been broken before and reset. His discontent made his bottom lip poke out, and y/n suddenly was overwhelmed by the urge to treat him like a child: make him feel better with a kiss. "I'm 18, and this isn't even my first time in a club. You want to see my ID?" Pablo had gotten much closer to her than she had expected. In her 4 inch heels, y/n was looking him straight in the eyes. He was mere inches away from her face, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the anger of being called a child. She couldn't stop her gaze from flipping between his eyes to his pouting lips. 'This is normal,' she thought to herself. 'I'm overwhelmed because no man has been this close to me in a while. Even if my scumbag cheating ex was standing this close I would want to kiss him. I am simply in desperate need of affection.'

This internal monologue ended just as another club patron bumped into Pablo, causing him to lose balance. He put his arms around y/n and rested weight against her, head pressed into her shoulder. "I feel like dying. I shouldn't have drank that much." He muttered. She just held him there, scared that he would hit the floor if she shifted. "Then why did you keep drinking?" She asked. It couldn't hurt - in the state he was in, she would be surprised if he even remembered his name in the morning. "So my brain would be a little quieter." y/n's heart ached at the statement. However old the boy in her arms was, he was being burdened by something far beyond his age.

Before she could ask anything else, she was tapped on the shoulder by Angel, who signaled for her to follow out of the club. She put one of Pablo's arms around her neck and began shuffling through the crowd. Once they left the club, Pablo quickly separated from her to throw up on the side of the street. "At least he waited until he was off of you to do that," a male voice echoed from behind her. y/n turned around to see Angelika clinging to a tall brunet. "Thank you so much for carrying her out. I think I can take it from here." y/n said, trying to get Angelika to remove herself from the nice man. "It's ok, I can walk her to your car. It might be easier than you carrying her." y/n smiled apologetically, and turned around to the sound of Pablo continuing to wretch his guts out. She ran over to make sure he wasn't puking blood and didn't need medical attention. "Come on Pablo let's go." Angel said from the curb. "No no, don't rush him. Let him get it all out before he gets into my car. Otherwise he'll have to start taking the city bus to matches." y/n looked up at the new voice. He walked up and stood by Angel, glancing at his phone before looking up at his friend and the girl making sure he didn't die. "Thanks for looking after him. I hope he wasn't too bad, he's a tag aggressive." y/n stood there speechless. The man thanking her for taking care of his drunk friend was none other than Pedri Gonzalez, one of the young stars of F.C. Barca. He was an absolute magician with the ball, and quickly becoming a favorite in y/n's household. She wanted to let out a scream: jump up and down and tell him that she was a huge fan and ask for a picture. But she had her presentation tomorrow. The last thing she needed was to make a bad impression on the player by causing a scene. So she took a deep breath and insisted that it was no problem.

Pablo had finished puking out his guts by that point and stood up straight, gripping his head from the dizziness. "Alright hermano, time to go." Pedri said, turning his back to y/n, Angelika, and the main carrying her. "Wait." Pablo said rummaging through his pocket. He pulled out his wallet, and clumsily pulled a card from it. He turned to y/n and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her close to him. There were shouts from his friends to stop whatever he was doing, but nothing was registering in his liquor-filled brain. "y/n think's I'm a little kid, so I just wanted to show her my ID." y/n shifted her gaze from his deep eyes to the card in his hand. She didn't look at the age. She didn't have to. Her eyes landed on the name: Pablo Martín Páez Gavira. One of the best young football players in the world had just used her as a banister. "Now that you know I'm not a kid, next time, you should let me buy you a drink." Pablo said, pushing a strand of hair from y/n's face before walking (wobbling) back to his friends.

y/n could not process everything going on in her head at that moment. She turned around and faced the man holding a half-asleep Angelika. "You don't play for Barca do you?" She asked, half joking and half fearful. "No. I play for Real Sociedad. I'm Martin." "Zubimendi??" "Yeah." This was too much. y/n, 7 hours before the most important presentation of her life, was surrounded by so much football royalty it made her dizzy. Martin looked like he was going to say something else, but y/n put her finger to her lips and shushed him. "Please, not another word. Just bring her to the car."

They walked silently to y/n's tiny car, Martin helping to carefully place Angelika in the back seat. "So are you the guy she was with while ignoring my calls?" "Oh no, that was my teammate Ander. He was also kind of out of it so I offered to help her out." "Why is everyone getting drunk out of their minds on a random Tuesday in August?" y/n said in frustration, causing a laugh to erupt from Martin. "It's the last week before training for the new season starts. Not a lot of opportunities to black out after this. People like to take advantage." y/n thanked Martin and got into the driver's seat. He stopped her before she drove off. "Do you think I could maybe get your number? Just to make sure you get home safe?" y/n rolled her eyes at the lame excuse for a pick-up tactic, but surrendered her phone number anyway. She drove back to her apartment with her head reeling, as she tried to rehearse her speech in her head instead of thinking of the events of the night.

The next day, y/n looked perfect. She had work her best school-approved scrubs and coat. and slicked her hair back to make her look more professional. She was in her business attire Nikes. Her note cards were neatly written and organized. She sat in the lecture hall waiting to be called on. The students would be presenting in random order. As all the student filled in to present, the tension was palpable. Everyone side-eyed each other, trying to intimidate the "competition". The door swung open and in walked the professor, as well as Dr. Gonzalez. He stood at the front podium, stern as ever, and began to speak.

"Good morning students. Thank you all for the effort you have put into the presentations you will share today. We look forward to all you assessments and insights. As the new season quickly approaches, we want the new assistant to become acclimated to the workplace quickly. Therefore, the decision about the position will be made today following the presentation." The entire room stopped breathing. "In order to do so efficiently, please welcome our other guests and evaluators, Mr. Xavi Hernandez and Mr. Ousmane Dembélé." The pair walked in, and the room engaged in the most "I wish I was dead" sounding clapping known to man. y/n started sweating profusely. If she had known that Xavi and Dembélé were going to be watching her presentation, she would have made Angelika take the Uber. Hell, she would have made her ride a Donkey back home and gotten a full night's sleep.

Dr. Gonzalez drew names for the order, and because y/n has the worst luck, she was presenting last. She did what she does best: panicked immediately. She tried to think of ways to present the information differently than the 6 students before her had. As she listened to the presentations, the more nervous she got. None of the other students had treatment plans remotely similar to hers. Antonio, one of the smartest in their batch and the presenter right before her, even suggested he get surgery.

It was time. y/n stood up at the front of the room and pulled out her slides. "Good morning everyone. Today I will be presenting my comprehensive treatment plan for player Ousmane Dembélé's right hamstring." She got through the whole thing without stuttering or having her knees give out. As she finished her last slide, she let out a sigh of relief. The hard part was over. She asked if their were questions and Xavi's hand went up. "So Miss y/n, the treatment plan presented is very similar to the one we have currently implemented, with a couple changes in training and every day life. What is the anticipated recovery time for this treatment?" Everyone else in the class had said 8-12 months. But no - of course y/n had to be differently. "6 weeks sir." "6 weeks? No one else has given a suggestion that would take less than half a year." "Yes sir, however, if you take into account the availability of daily therapy, cryotherapy, and the current play style and strain distribution, he can be on the field in 6 weeks. He might not be comfortable playing all 90 minutes each game, but that's not the same as being completely out for injury." Xavi nodded and said nothing more. That was the end of the questioning.

It took them 8 minutes exactly to decide who go the job. Dr. Gonzalez, Xavi, and Dembélé came back into the room, thanking everyone again for their hard work. "We are please to announce," Xavi started, "that we will be offering the assistant physiotherapist position for the 2022/2023 season to," he turned to Dembélé, who finished the thought, "Miss y/n y/l/n." All the men in the room turned to face y/n at once as she struggled to breathe from the shock. "We look forward to having you this season."

And that's how it happened. y/n was now the assistant physiotherapist for the first team at F.C. Barcelona during the day, and entertainment for the absolute worst men in Spain in the evenings. She left her disappointing first date with a headache and leftovers, and drove home listening to her "Maybe Love is a Social Construct" playlist. As she walked into her apartment, her phone chimed with a text notification. She let her hair down and grabbed her phone, preparing to update Angelika about the latest in the tragedy that was her love life. Instead, she had two separate text notifications.

[Unknown number]: Hey, is this still y/n's number?

[Gavi]: I need to see you urgently. Tomorrow morning 6:30 am. I'll be waiting outside your office.

To be continued...

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

If you got this far, thanks for reading! I have had this idea for a long time and have been writing snippets of it down. I will continue to update whenever I can, as this really is a passion project for me (so it's ok if no one reads it).

GIF credit to @gavidaily

Huge thanks to the following for heavily inspiring me to start writing this on the internet: @missgavi @kyiiansmbappe @julianalvarez9 @milawritesstuff @leeamorgan (there are a couple others I'm forgetting)

[kaybreezy3000]

----------------------------------------------------

Sometimes your fanfic best friend gives you a shout out in an anon ask reply, and then you get excited and make your quickest Five fanart and first-time sort of animation based on a pairing she mentioned and that you wrote years ago. 😄

Link to Bad Kitty's ask

Link to my other art and stories on Tumblr

Link to my long read/3-part Five Centric TUA story with Five paired with a character similar to the one above (and yes-she has Harley Quinn vibes but don't worry if you don't like her-she is not her, I just borrowed some of her wild and fun and qualities. 😉)

------

Updated note added late 6/28/24 after a continuous thread of harassing comments from one user that now has been blocked. No this is not 'AI' made or traced like that person repeatedly said it was. I did not steal someone else's art like they accused me of with no back up other than ripping me apart with more mean comments about what looks so bad about this. They also said my other art posts are 'AI,' and that I have no drawing skill or understanding of how clothes fold.

The AI accusation is a very mean thing to say and it's happening to so many people on here and in the actual profession art world. I do agree that I am not great at art or writing but that doesn't mean I am using AI and claiming it's mine. It's very sad that people feel the need to attack art in this way when it's clearly not even good like mine.

This picture/animation was done with me doing a very bad, very fast sketch, and then hardly correcting my lines before I quickly color filled the drawing that I MADE based off the fact that I have drawn Five in a suit more times than I can count and I have basic drawing skills, not great skills but basic. The reason the hard lines are both gray and black in some spots is because I went in after to correct stuff like gaps that needed to be filled for color filling and I did that in a different layer with black rather than the gray I used the first time. It's an error but one I was aware of but didn't care about because this was supposed to be fast and messy.

So yeah... this is NOT TRACED, and from what it was supposedly traced or 'stollen' from, I have no idea what this user thought that was because they never backed that up with some image that they seem so sure I used. This was based on Five with one of my original characters, so that image they claim I stole didn't exist until I made it.

I'm just trying to have fun with my friends on here while learning to draw better digitally. I am not an artist, and I definitely don't get paid or try to make people support me.

To those like the user who did this, please just chill with the mean comments and be kind to art makers on here and writers and all content posters. If you don't like something ignore it or keep your negativity inside instead of spreading hateful intentions and saying things that are not true about people and their work or their ideas.

Sorry to go off about that on here when it was just supposed to be silly and fun, but this stuff isn't okay and needs to be shut down. I am not always going to post 'proof' pictures of my works in process. I have done that before, but it's not what this is about for me, so I don't even think to do it normally. I have other art posts on AO3 with hand drawn stuff so I figure I don't need to prove I can draw. If someone wants proof, it isn't hard to find it through my posts.

I know most people are only here just for the fun stuff and let's have more of that. ❤️ Peace and love to you all.

[tijanatasmaric11]

— 1. Who was the last person you held hands with?

2. Are you outgoing or shy?

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing?

4. Are you easy to get along with?

5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you?

6. What kind of people are you attracted to?

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?

8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind?

9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?

10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?

11. What does the most recent text that you sent say?

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair?

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles?

15. What good thing happened this summer?

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

17. Do you think there is life on other planets?

18. Do you still talk to your first crush?

19. Do you like bubble baths?

20. Do you like your neighbors?

21. What are you bad habits?

22. Where would you like to travel?

23. Do you have trust issues?

24. Favorite part of your daily routine?

25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?

26. What do you do when you wake up?

27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?

28. Who are you most comfortable around?

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up?

30. Do you ever want to get married?

31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail?

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?

33. Spell your name with your chin.

34. Do you play sports? What sports?

35. Would you rather live without TV or music?

36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them?

37. What do you say during awkward silences?

38. Describe your dream girl/guy?

39. What are your favorite stores to shop in?

40. What do you want to do after high school?

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?

42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean?

43. Do you smile at strangers?

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean?

45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?

46. What are you paranoid about?

47. Have you ever been high?

48. Have you ever been drunk?

49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about?

50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore?

51. Ever wished you were someone else?

52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself?

53. Favourite makeup brand?

54. Favourite store?

55. Favourite blog?

56. Favourite colour?

57. Favourite food?

58. Last thing you ate?

59. First thing you ate this morning?

60. Ever won a competition? For what?

61. Been suspended/expelled? For what?

62. Been arrested? For what?

63. Ever been in love?

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?

65. Are you hungry right now?

66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends?

67. Facebook or Twitter?

68. Twitter or Tumblr?

69. Are you watching tv right now?

70. Names of your bestfriends?

71. Craving something? What?

72. What colour are your towels?

72. How many pillows do you sleep with?

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?

74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have?

75. Favourite animal?

76. What colour is your underwear?

77. Chocolate or Vanilla?

78. Favourite ice cream flavour?

79. What colour shirt are you wearing?

80. What colour pants?

81. Favourite tv show?

82. Favourite movie?

83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2?

84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street?

85. Favourite character from Mean Girls?

86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo?

87. First person you talked to today?

88. Last person you talked to today?

89. Name a person you hate?

90. Name a person you love?

91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?

92. In a fight with someone?

93. How many sweatpants do you have?

94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have?

95. Last movie you watched?

96. Favourite actress?

97. Favourite actor?

98. Do you tan a lot?

99. Have any pets?

100. How are you feeling?

101. Do you type fast?

102. Do you regret anything from your past?

103. Can you spell well?

104. Do you miss anyone from your past?

105. Ever been to a bonfire party?

106. Ever broken someone’s heart?

107. Have you ever been on a horse?

108. What should you be doing?

109. Is something irritating you right now?

110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?

111. Do you have trust issues?

112. Who was the last person you cried in front of?

113. What was your childhood nickname?

114. Have you ever been out of your province/state?

115. Do you play the Wii?

116. Are you listening to music right now?

117. Do you like chicken noodle soup?

118. Do you like Chinese food?

119. Favourite book?

120. Are you afraid of the dark?

121. Are you mean?

122. Is cheating ever okay?

123. Can you keep white shoes clean?

124. Do you believe in love at first sight?

125. Do you believe in true love?

126. Are you currently bored?

127. What makes you happy?

128. Would you change your name?

129. What your zodiac sign?

130. Do you like subway?

131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

133. Favourite lyrics right now?

134. Can you count to one million?

135. Dumbest lie you ever told?

136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed?

137. How tall are you?

138. Curly or Straight hair?

139. Brunette or Blonde?

140. Summer or Winter?

141. Night or Day?

142. Favourite month?

143. Are you a vegetarian?

144. Dark, milk or white chocolate?

145. Tea or Coffee?

146. Was today a good day?

147. Mars or Snickers?

148. What’s your favourite quote?

149. Do you believe in ghosts?

150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page?

[starglitterz]

serendipity. (iv)

─── chapter 4 ! ~  thanks for the save (it’s no big deal)

summary; when you, a waitress at the local coffee shop, are paired up with the new recruit scaramouche, you’re pretty sure both of you are going to get fired within a week. he’s just quit being a social media influencer and after being forced to work here to make ends meet, he’s ready to let everyone there know how much he hates it. the worst part? you can’t shake the feeling that you know him from somewhere. but as he slowly warms up to you, scaramouche realises that having a fresh start isn’t that bad after all, and perhaps the two of you meeting like this was pure serendipity.

a/n; HIII !! serendipity grand comeback REAL?! yes it is. i promised koi ( @chichikoi ) & yinggie ( @i23kazu ) that i would finish serendipity this year so here goes nothing hehehe >:) i'd like to finish it asap so i can move on to new projects so look forward to loads of updates !! <3 sorry for the long gap, i hope you'll all still enjoy the story ! also shockingly the pics in this post aren't collaged tgt bc tumblr finally increased the image limit HAHAHA but idk maybe the next post will be back to the collages bc im so lazy to send the pics to my laptop LOL ok bye gn MWAH !!

previous.┃masterlist.┃next.

please reblog w comments ! it helps a lot :)

private messages #1 ! ( y/n's phone )

private messages #2 ! ( scara's phone )

private messages #3 ! ( y/n's phone )

twitter !

if ur confused abt scara's part it's bc he kept deleting & retyping the msg LOL,,, he's such a loser /aff

© starglitterz 2024. do not repost or modify in any way.

[theapangea]

Two First Dates - Part 1

Chapter Title: The Set Up

Pairing/Characters: Steve Harrington x Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 2205

Summary: After hearing about your date with Eddie Munson, Steve decides to finally ask you out. 

Warning: None.

A/N: A series I wrote a while ago but finally moving it over to Tumblr! Enjoy my loves!

*Also posted on AO3: theapangea*

Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist <3

Today was weirdly peaceful. Normally, Fridays are busy but today seemed oddly quiet. There were no last minute dads getting off of work trying to figure out which children’s movie to rent or a couple wondering what movie would be good background noise for their make out session. 

The day mostly consisted of you and Steve doing your job’s mundane duties. To be honest, it was a little tense between the two of you lately. Nothing in particular stuck out in your mind, but it seemed like Steve didn’t want to talk to you at all. You would notice that his eyes would linger just a bit too long and he would avoid any and all situations that involved talking to you. Something was bugging him and you just decided to leave it at that. 

You spent most of the day rewinding tapes, stocking, and ignoring Steve. He seems to always spend his days the same, trying to get a date. He hasn’t been all that lucky since high school and sometimes you kind of felt bad for him. He would go out with any girl who happened to say yes to his boyish charm yet come in the next day complaining about their horrible date and her horrible kissing.

You didn’t want to hear about Steve's excuse for a dating life. Not because it wasn’t funny as hell to see him struggle to keep a girlfriend, but because you were somewhat jealous of the other girls he would give his attention to. You wouldn’t dare to ever say this outloud, but Steve was definitely someone you have a major crush on. 

If you are a girl from Hawkins, you have had a crush on Steve Harrington at some point in your life. Your crush just seemed to never dissipate. 

“You’re really going on a date with Eddie Munson?” Steve basically shouted from behind the counter, pulling you from your mindless thoughts.

You look over the rack of movies in front of you, your hands automatically fixing them as you respond, “What…” you pause for a brief moment, “how did you hear about that?”

“Robin.” He chuckled. He couldn’t believe that you would go on a date with that loser willingly.

“It’s none of your business Steve.” You groan while putting another tape onto the shelf. It was true though, you were going on a date with Eddie Munson tonight but you didn’t want Steve’s opinion about the matter.

“It is when you’re going out with that freak.” He cringes at the thought of you and Eddie Munson actually going on a date. You groan in frustration at his comment. Vowing now to never listen to Steve Harrington ever again. 

You put a couple more tapes on the shelf. You could feel his presence next to you before he states, “I didn’t even think he was your type.” It was almost like he was intentionally trying to stand too close. 

“What exactly do you think my type is Steve?” You questioned. 

Steve instantly stands up a little straighter, pulling his vest down a bit. Clearly indicating that he was your type. Where would he even get that idea? You never said anything to anybody about your crush on Steve. Do you think he knows? Do you think he is playing with you to make you confess that you are in love with him?

“You wish,” you scoff at his inaudible comment and push past him. To be honest, you wished you could build up the courage to tell Steve how you really felt. This whole love-hate friendship thing that has been going on for the past couple of months has been torture. You loved the teasing and the way he would wear that cocky smile after a snarky remark made you want to kiss him even more. But you never got the feeling that he felt the same way.

“Come on, go out with me tonight.” He follows closely behind. His request sends shivers down your spine. The words you always wanted to hear were now being spoken yet at the worst possible time in your life. Fuck Steve Harrington for always having the worst timing. 

“You can’t just now ask me on a date because you know I am going out with Eddie.” You turn around to face hime, pointing out his obvious intentions. “Also, you should ask me out because you want to not because it’s to stop me from dating Eddie.” You add, your eyes meeting his and suddenly his presence feels extremely close.

You can see he was examining your face. Examining what you were actually thinking and wanting to take all of you in. You were standing so close that you could see the same razor scars that lined his chin. You could see the slight emptiness in his eyes and the pressure of growing up too fast. 

Your mind racing with all the things you wanted to say to him but never got the chance. Let’s face it, you were so small compared to what he had to offer. You turn back around before he could read too much further into the obvious expression on your face. Your safety behind the counter and computer couldn’t have come quicker. The soft clicking sound of your fingertips typing away filled the small store. 

Steve huffs, his forearms resting on top of the counter, “Y/N, I do want too. Plus you will have way more fun with me anyways.” He adds, his puppy dog eyes tearing a piece of your heart away as you try to stay mad but can’t.

You could feel yourself giggling at his remark. Damn Steve. He had this way of getting under your skin yet also being able to get himself on your good side. He could talk himself into and out of any situation, especially with you. He knew he had you wrapped around his finger, but instead of actually asking you out on a date he would do anything to stop you from going on them. 

He wasn’t as confident as he wanted the world to view him as. He was lonely and heartbroken. Never fully recovering from dating Nancy Wheeler and never fully recovered from all the rejection since. He went from King Steve of Hawkins High to some unknown dude in the video store. How pathetic, his father always told him. 

But he liked it there, he liked hanging out with Robin…and you. Even though he would never confess actually wanting to hang out with you to your face. You were the reason he wasn’t lonely during the week while Robin was at school. You were the person who laughed at his jokes even if they weren’t that funny. Steve couldn’t believe that he was finally able to ask you out, the only bad part was that you were going on a date with Eddie first. Good job, Steve.

You stop typing for a moment and meet his gaze. His mind was trying to find the right words, any words to save himself.

“Eddie and I have a lot in common, which is why I said yes. Plus he had the guts to actually ask me out.” You confess, your words stinging more than you intended. But you were right, if Steve would have actually asked you out any other time than you would be more than willing to go with him. Hell, he was the one putting you in this situation.

“Fine.” Steve groans, his forehead now resting on the counter. You finally thought that you had won, that he was finally going to leave you alone. You go back to the computer screen, inputting the number on the tape cover.

“But we are going out tomorrow.” He demands. His confidence finally finding its voice. 

You giggle again. How could he be so demanding all the time? How could he just keep asking after you basically said no? “I’m not sure if I’m free.” You pretend to think about his offer when in reality you couldn’t believe that Steve Harrington continued to keep asking you out on a date. You almost had to pinch yourself, really hoping this was not some sort of dream. 

“I know you aren’t.” He wasn’t appeased by the joke, “I am picking you up at 5 tomorrow.” 

“Isn’t that a little early for dinner?” A puzzled look landing on your face.

“5 in the morning, duh.” He clarifies. The smile that formed on his face was unlike any other. You were now this big prize that he has won and he was happy to be able to show you off. The fact that he was finally able to go on a real date with you was amazing and nerve-wrecking.

“Morning?” You repeat as he walks away without another word. Why 5 in the morning? Why in the world would Steve want to even get up that early on a Saturday? You wondered what kind of plans he could possibly have at 5 in the morning. 

It was a little awkward for the rest of your shift together. Steve seemed oddly pleased with himself after your little interaction and you seemed completely torn between these two dates. You didn’t know what to do. On one hand, you were going on a date with someone who has actually made it clear that he wanted to date you. And on the other hand, you are going to go on a date with the literal man of your dreams. 

In a way, you felt guilty. You felt guilty because it felt like you were dragging Eddie into this situation. You knew in your heart that Steve was the one, but you weren’t completely sure if Steve really felt the same way. He could just really not want you to date Eddie and would do anything to stop it. 

Eddie has been asking you out nonstop since sophomore year of high school and Steve never gave you a second look in high school. Steve was one of your best friends and Eddie was someone you lost touch with after graduation.

You couldn’t make a decision between the two of them. How could you? How could you pick between them? You never thought in your small town life that two very attractive men would try and date you around the same time. 

The neverending thoughts of the next 24 hours and your next two dates made the rest of the day go by quickly. You had barely spoken five words to Steve since he asked you out. You were speechless. Absolutely speechless. 

When the clock struck 6pm and it was finally time to go home. You couldn’t help but to try and high tail it out the door without so much as a goodbye to your coworker. Coworker, that’s all he was. He wasn’t your knight in shining armor like you wanted him to be. He was a coworker that you see often and there's nothing much to it. You tried to remind yourself but it just wasn’t working. 

“You still want a ride home?” Steve calls while locking the doors and before you are out of earshot.

You stop before your feet leave the short sidewalk. Contemplating if you still need the ride home. In reality, you do, that was the reason you asked in the first place. But after today and your mind going thousands of miles per an hour, the last place you wanted to be is stuck in a metal box with Steve.

You turn on your heels, knowing that if he drove you home it would give you more time to get ready for your date with Eddie. “Sure” You huff.

“Don’t act so sad.” He opens the car door for you. 

Most of the car ride was silent to say the least. Awkward, yes. Uncomfortable, yes. But you liked driving with Steve. He’s given you a ride home a couple of times and he’s always so talkative. But today was different, he seemed quiet and distant. The radio hummed lowly but the silence was too much to bear. 

“You can still go out tonight with me instead.” He finally breaks the tension, before putting the car in park in front of your house.

You continue to look forward. You could feel his eyes burning a whole into your head, trying to figure out what is going on in your brain. 

“Steve, drop it.” You look over at him, his sight almost taking your breath away, “Besides what if I like Eddie more and just don’t want to go on the date with you tomorrow?” You snark.

“That wouldn’t happen.” Steve rebuttals, knowing damn well that he is right. 

The breathy chuckle escapes your lips as you just cannot believe this day. It was so far away from what you expected that you almost don’t believe you are alive right now. You got out of the car not saying another word. The loud bang of the car door echoing for miles.

“Hey,” He shouts, leaning forward over the passenger seat, “I can’t wait for our date tomorrow.”

You try to conceal the smile that has formed. Damn this day, damn the date, and damn Steve Harrington.

~~

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think!! <3