#it also made me think about the shit people were talking about the guilties at the same time they were being attacked
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miss-allsundays · 20 hours ago
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i was kind of expecting it (because of the danny motta pandemic), but the amount of people that just. write off octavia as some sort of ungrateful brat is really pissing me off.
we, as the viewers, have a much broader understanding of stolas, his life, and his relationship with stella. we are also made to look at it in a positive light for stolas, because we are shown instances of stella and her brother being the terrible antagonists they were written to be.
and most importantly, we do not have an attachment to stolas and stella’s relationship.
octavia instead, has had her life recently upended, has seen her father do a 180 change and (in her eyes) ruin his whole relationship.
her parents are divorcing, and they’re going about it in the worst way possible. they keep badmouthing each other, and they are, quite frankly, very dismissive of octavia— stolas as well, even if he doesn’t mean it.
and then, her father risks his life for the guy he destroyed his family for. and she is left with her mother and uncle, who clearly don’t have her best interests in mind.
of course stolas deserves to be happy, and of course he can love both blitzø and octavia at the same time, but what a lot of people don’t get is that she is a hurt child, who is very lonely at the moment, and who has not had the time to process everything.
instead she has to watch her dad fawn over his affair partner, talk shit about her mother even after the divorce, and then he suddenly leaves and oh! he will be banned from their house for a hundred years.
of course she holds resentment over her father!! he hurt her, just as much as her mother hurt her!!
because yes, stolas’ hatred towards his ex-wife is justified, but he has subconsciously let that feeling cloud over his love for octavia.
for a child, seeing your parents go through a divorce is really fucking tough. even if their relationship wasn’t the best, even if the love wasn’t there anymore, your parents splitting up still feels like a point of no return. as someone who went through that, i cannot tell you how many nights i spent as a teen wishing my family would go back to normal, even if the rational part of me knew that their separation was a much better outcome, and that the normal i hoped for hadn’t been that in years.
their divorce is only a couple of months old, it isn’t nearly enough time to begin getting over it, especially if you don’t have a good outlet for your emotions— which octavia doesn’t have.
and as i’ve mentioned earlier, the fact that her parents hate each other so openly is also another big fucking problem!! it does nothing but make the child in between feel bad, because they feel guilty for still caring about both of them, like their love for their parents is wrong and tainted.
(again, stella is terrible, and we can all agree on that— but octavia doesn’t know the full extent of it!! sue just wants her family back!!)
i feel for stolas, and it’s so, so obvious that he loves his daughter more than anything in this world, but i also understand why octavia wants some distance from him.
even though he didn’t mean to, he failed to think of how his daughter was holding up, until it was too late.
(and to everyone that says octavia hates her dad, go fuck yourself and pick up a pair of glasses. there is a difference between being hurt by someone’s actions and hating them. she went to IMP to give him his meds. she saved stolitz + IMP from andrealphus. learn some media literacy before you speak thanksssssssss<3 )
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good-beanswrites · 2 months ago
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Imagine if in OoA, Fuuta wasn't unconscious when Amane showed up during the initial attack. Better for Amane since she's not alone, but probably much worse for Fuuta since he's forced to watch helplessly.
So... prompt? 👉👈
OUGHGH what a concept... You would think the near-death experience is what's most traumatizing to him but no, it's the fact that, yet again, he couldn't be the hero that he thought he was... Thank you so much for the request and uuhh sorry I beat up your boy...
TW for violence/injury, nothing super gory but I did try to detail out Kotoko's canon attacks
He’s probably never even taken a hit in his life.
Kotoko’s fist connected solidly with Fuuta’s jaw. His vision sparked.
And anyway, it’s his own fault. He got himself into this mess.
Her knee jabbed into his gut, knocking the wind out of him before he could gain his bearings from the previous strike. Kotoko had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the night. He’d been dragged out of bed with a cheap shot to his face.
The voices in his head spoke oblivious to the situation. He hardly processed a single word they said, the sound drowned out by the prisoners’ shouts. By the ringing in his ears. 
He’s so pathetic. 
By the crack of his own bones breaking. 
So weak.
By the choked sounds he could hardly recognize as his own. 
So cowardly.
The room dipped and darkened as his consciousness threatened to give out. His chest rattled with a struggling breath. Kotoko’s arm raised, and he got the feeling this blow would be the last.
Well, whatever happens, he did it to himself.
She paused. Something distracted her from behind. Fuuta was left in a heap, his body unresponsive to his mind’s desperate pleas to escape with this chance. The most he could do was angle his head to see what had blessed him with this moment of relief. 
It took only an instant for his gratefulness to sharpen into panic.
Just think of that poor, young girl. She had her whole life ahead of her.
Kotoko towered over her Amane. She had flattened herself against the cell door. The flickering fluorescents above cast a shadow across her face.
There was too much spinning inside – and blood outside – of Fuuta’s head to make any sense of what they were saying to one another. He got a pretty good idea when Kotoko lunged forward and struck the girl.
And now she’s dead. Because of him.
Fuuta tried to pick himself up. He had to stop this. More blood pooled around him, but he no longer cared. All he could focus on was the new splotches of red that Amane dabbed at with her uniform sleeve.
As hard as he willed himself to move, his limbs refused. He thought emergencies like this were supposed to give you newfound adrenaline. You were supposed to triumph over the pain, not succumb to it ripping through every inch of your being.
Does he think this is one of his stupid video games? This is real life. He’s nothing special. 
He dragged himself an inch or two forward, and that was all. He could only watch helplessly as Kotoko attacked again. Amane sank to the ground after a few harsh kicks to her legs. She lifted her arms to block her face. 
If he wanted to help society, he should have protected people. He should have protected that girl.
Fuuta had never begged for anything in his life before. 
He opened his mouth to beg Kotoko to stop. 
But his body was doing everything in its power to sabotage him. His words dissolved into wheezing coughs. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t save anyone.
He hasn’t done anything useful with his life. Worthless.
Darkness invaded his vision. The horrible sounds within the cell grew more and more distant.  
Amane was thrown to the ground nearby. She lay close enough for him to reach his arm towards her, though still out of his grasp. Her eyes were trained on him. He wished he had the voice to scream at her to look away – to turn her attention to Kotoko, and not the failure of a man who wasn’t going to help her. 
All he could do was hold her gaze until his own eyes slipped shut.
Some hero he was.
Just before the world disappeared around him, he felt warm fingers interlock with his, and squeeze.
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melancholic-pigeon · 3 months ago
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Okay this is the *actual* last comment, for real, but I just found out Spider is now smearing me as a convert and accusing me of being involved with drama I was not involved with because he mistakenly attributed my apologies for his public temper tantrum as being about something unrelated.
THIS IS A FALSE ACCUSATION and I do not appreciate having yet another bit of fake malicious intent falsely ascribed to my actions and* attributing a completely unrelated attack to me.
Also, it's very sad and disappointing whenever a Jew gets mad at a convert because something else is going on in the Jew's life and the convert happens to be in the splash zone and the Jew falls over backwards to smear the convert and invalidate her faith.
Just....the childish aggression is making me so, so sad and disappointed, from someone I used to think very highly of, who is now lying about me and publicly smearing me with false accusations based on a conflict he started because he misinterpreted something I said and I went out of my way to give him the benefit of the doubt when trying to clear up the mistake HE MADE that led him to decide bullying and attacking me for three fucking days was appropriate and okay and that I'm the bad guy for saying it's wildly unprofessional to behave like this in public to a former customer face.
Sorry, but facts, reality, linear time and the truth of what I actually said and did are on my side here, and I will not stand for being smeared and attacked and shat all over because I had the gall to try to kindly resolve his uncalled for, unjustified temper tantrum.
I am also not sorry that I left a side note in the tags that it was also unacceptable for HIM to drag his daughter into a stupid internet slapfight based on his own reading comprehension failure. Because it was and is unacceptable, and she needs to hear that message from someone.
End of story. Keep digging that hole as long as you like, Spider. It's not helping your case and is continuing to make you look progressively worse and more unreasonable, and the only person you have to blame is yourself.
youtube
*revised for clarity
#don't buy from nerdykeppie#all receipts are under this tag#if you're so offended because my reporting on the things you say and do makes you look bad maybe the problem is you#this whole thing was completely needless#and yet he is continuing to DARVO me because he's pissed that his usual method of smugly lashing out at people over their poor reading#comprehension doesn't work when it's him who failed to comprehend what I wrote in the first place#also REAL FUCKING INCHRESTING that he's lying about me being involved in the jewvestigation of him so he responds by......jewvestigating me#lol#lashon hara. maybe he should study it sometime.#and maybe he'll learn warning others about poor behavior from a business so they don't waste their money there is not lashon hara#but honestly I doubt it because he's never going to let go of his desperate complex about always being the smartest raddest dude in the roo#it looks pathetic and I think he realizes that or he wouldn't have had such a dramatic extended meltdown over the things *he* said to *me*#I also still find it funny that he has conveniently forgotten to address the whole “hey bud your timeline doesn't add up” part#and I think that's because he knows if he were to address the proof that he didn't remember it correctly he would be forced to admit that h#threw a massive shitfit at someone for no reason because his memory got mixed up#so so funny that he can't come up with an answer for that#almost like! he knows he fucked up bigtime and is scrambling to make himself the victim!#also funny that “worrying about someone who was dragged into a fight by a bully” got twisted into sneakily scheming to turn her against him#I'm not a scheming plotter I'm worried because the behavior you showed your child in public was wildly inappropriate TO HER.#it's sad! It's fucking sad and embarrassing and hypocritical and immature and SAD!#but the pretend me other people are attacking because they made shit up is none of my business#if he wants to keep writing fanfic about me he can go right ahead#because again#the more he talks the worse he looks#the more he digs this hole the deeper he gets mired in his own muck#and it's not my job to bend over backwards to keep him from experiencing the natural consequences of his actions.#I really should learn the lesson that people who are snide assholes in one situation are usually snide assholes across the board#really the worst part is knowing I defended him when he threw tantrums like this before#that's what I regret and feel guilty about: that I backed up his shitty behavior and gave it legitimacuy#that was wrong of me and I'm sorry for every time I jumped in as one of his flying monkeys
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astonmartinii · 6 months ago
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i can do it with a broken heart [guilty as sin part three] | charles leclerc social media au
pairing: charles leclerc x fem sainz!reader
life goes on after a bombshell but this silence isn't mysterious it's ominous
MASTERLIST | GUILTY AS SIN MASTERLIST | TIP JAR
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yourusername
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liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 1,304,509 others
yourusername: don't tell lies about me and i won't tell truths about you
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user164: oh holy moly this is so much worse than i thought
user165: i don't think i can ever look at those men the same ever again
user166: SEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS FOR FAVOURS?
user167: my mouth dropped open when i read that
user168: so like not to be insensitive but like who do we think it was
maxverstappen1: so like y/n obviously can't talk on this because she needs her silence but my big mouth will remain open they tried it on me that's why she mentions that she managed to make friends.
user169: what the fuck
maxverstappen1: they thought that i would be an easy target because i was so young but jokes on them i've always been taken advantage of so i saw that from a mile away (also y/n didn't want to so that obviously helped)
user170: that is actually insane like her and max are the same age so that would've made her so young i hope to god that they didn't try it with anyone older
maxverstappen1: they did but by the time they realised that it hadn't worked on me y/n had allies and fernando and seb were not about to let any of that happen
user171: thank the lord she had some friends when people control your money you'll do anything
fernandoalo_oficial: she became my daughter the moment that i saw them try and offer their family to some of the older men in the paddock
user172: i am actually in shock this was a "oh gosh this is so dramatic situation" but now it's just "holy shit i kinda need to see these guys in jail"
fernandoalo_oficial: me and you both
user173: i'm going to need ferrari to let charles out of the cage for this one
user174: kinda expected him to be in the comments supporting her i'm not going to lie
user175: he's in the likes?
user176: girl? his girlfriend is being sued by his own family and is confessing that she was offered round the paddock like a prize cow i feel like he should be actively voicing his support
oscarpiastri: you're loved and have the full support of the paddock
maxverstappen1: we're behind you 100% of the way
olliebearman: nothing but full support for you mum
pierregasly: we're all here for you no matter what we're allowed to say
fernandoalo_oficial: 🫶
sebastianvettel: it'll all work out in the end
user177: still no charles ???
user178: eh i feel like pierre is confirming charles' support in his place
maxverstappen1
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tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc
maxverstappen1: i'm missing my best friend has anyone seen her?
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user179: oh good i was just about to lose it from y/n and max withdrawals
user180: at least one of the trio of dumbasses is keeping us fed
yourusername: i miss you toooooooooo :( (reply fast my lawyer has gone to the bathroom)
maxverstappen1: hurry up and win your lawsuit so we can go back to kicking ass and drinking gin and tonics
yourusername: i'm trying 🤞
maxverstappen1: and if i said it's time to red wedding them?
yourusername: i think we would be swiftly arrested
maxverstappen1: they can't arrest us our face cards are too strong
yourusername: well one of us is currently in court so what does that say about my face card
charles_leclerc: THAT YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL REGARDLESS FUCK THEM
this comment was liked by the author and @yourusername
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user181: so is that like confirmation that charles is back in PR jail in maranello
user182: right i understand that he's literally employed by them but like he's also a grown ass man who can speak up
user183: like i know max isn't obviously at ferrari and isn't contractually obligated to be teammates with carlos but even he's out here slamming him
user184: and oscar who's only in his SECOND year in the sport
oscarpiastri: bold assumption that you're the best friend max
maxverstappen1: let's not get too rowdy piastri i can deal with you as the 'child' - you cannot be a bestie as well
oscarpiastri: i don't think that's the exact rules
maxverstappen1: you'll soon learn that I MAKE THE RULES AROUND HERE BUSTER
oscarpiastri: i can't wait for y/n to kick their asses so she can come back and KICK YOURS FOR ME
maxverstappen1: she would NEVER
oscarpiastri: okay maybe she wouldn't, but my dad on the other hand ...
liked by @charles_leclerc
user185: charles just PLEASE GET ON THE MIC
user186: i'm about to lose my patience i'm not going to lie
user187: guys we have to remember that this is a complicated situation with a lot of different moving parts, as long as charles is there for her in REAL LIFE it doesn't matter what we're seeing
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carlossainz55
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carlossainz55: what was it you said? all is fair in love and poetry.
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user191: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SUPPOSED TO MEAN?
user192: not the childhood dog too ???
user193: these are unbelievable levels of hating
user194: i'd be impressed if he wasn't such an asshole
maxverstappen1: get fucked
carlossainz55: she shouldn't dish it out if she can't take it
maxverstappen1: she fell in love ?? and you thought that was a good excuse to take everything she's ever had
carlossainz55: she cost me my dream
maxverstappen1: as far i can remember, she's not on the fucking FERRARI BOARD GENIUS
carlossainz55: it's her pussy-whipped boyfriend that's the problem and she deserved this as soon as she choose him over her blood
maxverstappen1: you're insane and history will always remember you as the biggest crybaby loser to ever grace this sport
user195: so this ^^ is definitely referring to y/n's poetry
user196: are we living through scooter braun volume two
user197: @taylorswift PLEASE HELP
charles_leclerc: EAT SHIT I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL MAKE YOUR LIFE A LIVING HELL
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charles_leclerc: you are the lowest of the low and you will get what is coming to you
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charles_leclerc: there's only so long i have to stay silent and the people will know just the type of person you are
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user198: so is like carlos deleting this comments or ferrari?
user199: i bet it's ferrari
user200: 1. can they stop being allergic to fun 2. i think this has gotten past the need to uphold image like these are your employees and this is serious actually
user201: also like silencing charles when its CARLOS BEING THE MESSY ONE HE IS ACTUALLY STILL YOUR EMPLOYEE
yourusername: old habits die screaming
carlossainz55: you can spout all the 'poetry' you want it'll all belong to me anyway
yourusername: i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning
user202: stealing poetry? now that's a new low
user203: i'm gonna need someone to take one for the team and put a cheeky front wing in his tyre
georgerussell63: well this sounds like a job for me
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charles_leclerc
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liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 893,450 others
charles_leclerc: lets go racing.
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user206: is this even charles? where are the emojis? where is the excitement
user207: i think we might be witnessing a lil PR takeover after his deleted comments tirade under carlos' recent post
user208: you'd think they'd at least get his tone right like the rest of his account is RIGHT THERE
user209: charles leclerc's PR team we now have beef
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maxverstappen1: ugh you people are useless
oscarpiastri: i'm not going to lie i'm losing my patience
maxverstappen1: for real i'm gonna need this court case to finish up fast so we can get back to being a united front of haters
oscarpiastri: and then we can also wrestle charles' phone back by force
olliebearman: PLEASE KNOW THIS ISN'T ME I LOVE Y/N AND WE WILL LIVE TO KICK ASS AGAIN
user210: oh so they quite literally took his phone?
olliebearman: whoops
user210: ollie coming for kid of the year
olliebearman: i can't be told off for accidentally leaving my phone out while in the car and accidentally making my password something easy to remember and accidentally telling charles that his PR team had posted something - accident i swear
user211: @maxverstappen1 can you confirm they're still grossly in love?
maxverstappen1: i do have the letters to prove so but i think he's going insane with withdrawals
user212: that's it GET ME TO MARANELLO RIGHT THIS SECOND I HAVE A SCORE TO SETTLE
user213: yo i know we just got some confirmation from max but i can't help but think how lonely this must be for y/n
user214: for real if i was being sued by my family and had everything stolen from me i'd want more than some 'confirmation' through her bff in an instagram comment
carlossainz55: i hate to say i told you so @yourusername but that would be a lie i'm enjoying this so much
maxverstappen1: i want to fight you so bad but my therapist said that's bad
oscarpiastri: it's also illegal?
maxverstappen1: what's the point of being a rich white man oscar if i can't use to it to traverse the justice system and defend my bestie's honour
user215: @charles_leclerc get a backbone and do it like these two ^^
user216: i still have faith that he'll rain hell on that family when he's free
user217: well can he hurry the fuck up cause he's really shaping up to be the worst boyfriend of the year
user218: he has to get fucking loud HE CAN'T PROVE CARLOS RIGHT I DON'T WANT TO LIVE IN THAT WORLD
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yourusername
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yourusername: i can do it with a broken heart
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user223: no no NO WE'RE NOT DOING ALL THIS GUESSING GAME SHIT WHAT WAS THE VERDICT?
user224: it's finished?
user225: that's what the spanish media are saying
user224: well in that case Y/N WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE YOUR POETRY BACK?
maxverstappen1: a wine evening without me? prison changed you
user225: SHE'S IN PRISON?
yourusername: STOP TELLING PEOPLE I'M IN JAIL
maxverstappen1: want me to put some money in the commissary so you can buy cigarettes?
yourusername: i don't even smoke and i'M NOT IN JAIL
maxverstappen1: now you've done time can you employ some stricter parenting on oscar and ollie, they've gotten unruly with both parents absent
yourusername: i'm not an absent mother :(
oscarpiastri: SHE'S VERY PRESENT SHE'S BEEN TO EVERY RECITAL SHE CAN IN HER CURRENT CIRCUMSTANCES
maxverstappen1: did you just refer to literal FORMULA ONE GRAND PRIXS AS RECITALS?
oscarpiastri: maybe i did
yourusername: he's allowed to call them what he wants
olliebearman: i feel sufficiently supported by you mum x
yourusername: i'm glad
olliebearman: family dinner when dad gets released from ferrari's top secret base jail?
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maxverstappen1: did he just get sniped by ferrari's PR?
user226: okay cool got the main kids update but WHAT ABOUT LEO?
user227: please tell me he's been been in good care
yourusername: he's been my rock 🤞
user228: not the dog being more present than charles - it would be funny if it wasn't so sad :(
user229: so are any of you going to address the literal caption of this post
user230: there's two options here she either lost the court case or her and charles have actually broken up
user231: the fact carlos is not in this comment section actively gloating makes me think she might have actually won?
user232: but i don't want it to be the other option... charles and y/n are end game :(
user233: but he's been so so silent and that BULLSHIT response in the press conference
user234: idk the delusion in me has this theory ... she won the case but like t swift, doesn't have access to her old work so maybe she's heartbroken over losing that and then it's just exacerbated by her boyfriend's useless bosses that are holding him captive in italy (also he was totally coached to say that shit in the presser it's written all over his strangely expressive face)
user235: at this point i might go to italy and just prison break him out of there this is ridiculous
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fin.
note: DON'T HATE ME YALL i promise it'll get better we must have faith in the man (i know i hate to put my faith in men) xx
extra note from me here. first, i will fix this tag list at some point idk why it's not working rn. secondly, i have been made aware by multiple people that there is a series just like this one down to characters and the name of the series on here and i can't lie i'm bummed about it. as i said on the first part (?) this is an idea i've had since the release of TTPD (and people will back me up on this) so it bums me out that there are blatant copies coming out! i'm all for inspiration but sometimes there's a difference between taking inspo and copying especially when my masterlist was posted ages ago and my first part was posted on the 9th of may.... anyways that's all i have to say! enjoy xx
taglist: in comments!
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amphitriteswife · 5 days ago
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Stay the night
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Pairing: Emperor Geta x Wife reader
Warning: mild nudity, shits ass
Summary: Geta finds himself seeking your comfort once again after finding out about general Acacius’ betrayal.
Note: I love crying pathetic hurt Geta also its implied sex not the real thing yk
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Geta feels conflicted. His hands pulling on his ginger colored hair. He was pacing back and forth between his bed and the door. His robe feels sticky because of the earlier sweat that had now turned cool. What should he do? What can he do? He feels nervous. No not even. He feels afraid. Where are you? He just put Caracalla to bed after his crash out against general Acacius and he felt suspicious of the Macrinus. He doesn’t know who to trust. Who speaks the truth? Who is genuinely on his side? Who is loyal? Who is actually helping him and not planning to overthrow him? He knows his position is weak. But he’s trying! He wants to rule along side his brother, but his disease makes it very hard to. His breath took up a pace and so did his steps. He got even more impatient with every second. He can hear his heart thumping in his ears. Were you asleep? Did you talk to the Macrinus? Did you also plan to overthrow him? To betray him? To take the throne he knows he isn’t fit for? No. He can’t think of you like that. You’re loyal to him. He knows it. He’s just being hysterical. You’ve always been there by his side. You were the bridge between him and the Roman citizens, you gave him advice to keep the people happy, to make sure they’re fed and safe even if it meant that the elites sometimes disagreed. Please come soon, his head felt as if it might explode from all the thoughts.
Luckily for him he finally heard the faint sounds of rinkels. His eyes immediately reacted to the sound. They were bells. Tiny bells. He recognized them instantly. Only you wore ankle bracelets with bells, a gift you had received from him on your wedding night. You wore it quite a lot and only took it off when you went to the bed house. His eyes caught the sight of your feet. Then your ankle bracelet and then finally to your face. You didn’t wear any make up and your hair was slightly disheveled. He woke you up with his summoning. He felt guilty…he feels selfish for calling you while you needed your own sleep too.
‘I’m sorry for waking you up empress.’
‘It’s fine…did you need something from me at this hour? emperor Geta?’
Your voice was groggy. It made him feel even more guilty. He took a few breaths before he sat down on the bed. A rather vulnerable silence followed before he started to speak in a soft voice. His eyes didn’t meet yours anymore and his head was slightly turned away as if he felt ashamed of what he was about to say. The hand that was gripping his robe seemed to tremble slightly. It was pitch black and the middle of the night. He shouldn’t be having a conversation with you. The both of you should’ve been asleep. Nothing about the betrayal should’ve even existed. He wishes it was all just a cruel prank. There must be a reason. Would he rather not have known? Or is it for the better? Why is it like this? What did he do wrong? What should he tell you? The truth? But it’ll only prove that he makes poor choices as an emperor.
‘Stay…just for tonight please?’
He sounds pathetic. He didn’t mean for his voice to break mid sentence. He didn’t mean to tear up. He wanted to keep it hidden. He didn’t want to tell you what wrong. He didn’t want to feel this way. He kept his head low. The crown was missing, it was just his wavy orange hair. The robe was slightly exposing part of his chest and body. The request sounded simple. In any other moment he would’ve demanded it from you. Ordered you to obey him. But now he hadn’t. Now it sounded small as if it could break. Even after you two were wed, you stayed in different rooms. Geta never minded it as he usually found his own company with others wherever he liked. He never asked you to be in his other than having intercourse what you usually declined.
‘Did something happen my Emperor?’
The question made him sniffle a bit and wipe his face. He really doesn’t want to tell you. He doesn’t want to he weak in front of you. Both of his hands grabbed your robe. His own falling open in the middle of it. He looked at you with a rather pleading gaze. His eyes blood shot red and a his cheeks were a little glistening because of his tears. His hands wete trembling slightly yet he hadn’t said a single word. You didn’t really know what is was, shame to ask for help? Embarrassment? Well, it didn’t really matter which one. As long as he didn’t cry anymore.
‘I…don’t wish to think about such matters more than I already do empress, as long as you’re here…it’s more than enough for me.’
Those words made you raise an eyebrow. So there is something wrong but he just isn’t ready to tell you now. Got it. He’s also tugging on your hand like soke kid. How cute. Despite the pathetic and disheveled state he is in, he’s rather cute. Like a puppy. You wouldn’t tell him that ofcourse. It’s not like you’re sadistic. Your hands reached out for his, letting your fingertips glide across his knuckled which made him loosen his grip. He took a few breaths before he finally let go of your robe and sat back on the bed. He guided you to also join him in his bed which was bug enough for the both if you. He laid back on the bed, his eyes looking at the ceiling and his robe still open.
‘Please make me forget about it all, my empress.’
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purinfelix · 2 months ago
Text
just for the weekend ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ - franco colapinto
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summary: your teammate has an absolutely ridiculous plan to bring your team back from the dead - but it might be just crazy enough to work w/c: 5.5k + some smau style tweets warnings: a little angst, some uncomfortable touching/kissing since it's fake dating (not too bad but better safe than sorry), some miscommunication - just two idiots in love i fear
a/n: WOW it's finally here, fake dating is literally a guilty pleasure trope for me so i hope yall enjoy this HAHA - also sorry to Williams fans bc there's a lot of slander in this but trust its all for the plot <333 (also holy shit this is the longest fic I've ever written WOW)
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"You're actually insane."
"Oh c'mon, at least think about it for a minute, it's perfect!"
You fold your arms over your chest and try your best to look uninterested in whatever it is your teammate has to say. The two of you had been racing together for a little over half a year now, and you had witnessed him make (at least in your opinion) a grand fool of himself. Flirting with interviewers, winking at cameras, having absolutely no filter during press conferences - but this, this was by far the craziest thing you had heard come out of his mouth.
"A fake relationship?"
"Ah ah ah," he tuts, jutting a finger in your face, "a media relationship, one that will draw the attention away from how crap we're doing and onto the personalities of the team. Think about it, McLaren has whatever Oscar and Lando have got going on and Ferrari basically has two models for drivers. We need something to put us on the map, to make people care about us!"
You pause, and for a minute you seriously consider his outrageous proposition - he isn't completely wrong. For the two of you, making it into the points range was a rare occurrence, and even though the team always made sure to celebrate it like a podium there was something that stung about constantly being at the bottom.
"Do you realise how much trouble we could get into?"
"Ah," he sighs, and it's starting to annoy you how lightly he's talking about this, "ever the pragmatist."
"Well one of us has to be if the other's going to keep saying stupid shit," you huff before turning around and beelining out of his driver's room.
Seriously, a fake relationship? Had he lost his mind? Maybe if he focused more on his racing you wouldn't be constantly outperforming him.
"At least think about it, okay?" You hear him call out from behind you, and consider yourself lucky to be facing the other way so that he doesn't catch your obnoxious eye roll. Surely he had to be kidding because there was no way you were going to devote any amount of time to this ridiculous thought.
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God fucking damnit.
It was frustratingly confusing, the kind of power Franco had. You had witnessed it first hand with how smoothly he spoke to anyone and managed to get his way almost instantly - but this was your first time experiencing it first-hand. It was another weekend, another country, another race, but the only thing you could think of was his stupid consideration - which, with each passing moment, seemed increasingly genius.
You had almost a year of experience with the team over your teammate, and with that, your fair share of embarrassment and disappointment. Sure, his idea was a little out there but you were close to being at your wits end and if nothing else, you hoped this would at least be a little fun. Plus you were pretty sure at this point if you didn't act on this thought soon, it would start interfering with your performance.
"Fine," you said a little breathlessly as you burst into his driver's room ahead of a race.
"Hey!" he exclaimed, looking at you with a shocked look, "whatever happened to knocking? I could've been naked in here!"
You roll your eyes before continuing, "You still up to the ..." You pause, thinking of how best to word it, "Fake relationship thing?"
His eyes light up immediately, "Ah, I knew you'd come around eventually."
Letting out a soft huff, just to let him know that you still aren't fully convinced this will work, you sit down on his couch. "I think we should lay down some ground rules first."
"Yes ma'am." He nods, straightening up and forcing a serious expression you can only assume is mocking yours.
"Firstly, no kissing."
"Understood."
"Actually no public affection at all, holding hands, hugging, nothing."
"Oh sure and how exactly are we going to convince people then?"
You pause, thinking for a little, "Okay maybe hand-holding and hugs are fine, but you better not push it - that goes for the pet names as well." He nods with a satisfied smile.
"And no one other than us two can know this is fake, alright? Otherwise, it'll spoil the plan."
"Trust me, I don't need anyone knowing I'm going along with something as ridiculous as this. It'll be our little secret."
"Our little secret," he repeats with a hum, a sly sort of smile spreading across his face as he gets up from his spot. "See you after the race, my love."
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You sighed in exasperation, tossing your phone to the side of the couch in your driver's room where it fell with a light thud. You had about a thousand other things to be worrying about - your pretty disappointing result in qualifying for one - but for some reason, the main thing on your mind was your 'relationship' with Franco. Somehow, it had proved even more intense than you had expected, which planted a seed of worry in your mind as you realised how hard this was actually going to be to pull off. Since his not-so-subtle announcement to a hoard of hungry press members at last week's race, the media had managed up a flurry about the two of you.
There were supportive fans who liked you both enough not to see any problem with two teammates dating, as well as others who were more sceptical about how it might impact your performance. However, what really seemed to get to you were those who doubted you more than the relationship.
Your social media had been bombarded with comments and theories about the reason behind your relationship, doubting your place on the grid, and calling you names that - after shedding the status of 'first girl rookie', you thought you had left behind. Regardless, you feel a little stupid for being so unprepared for all this - not just the tweets but the harsh articles, the questions during press interviews and even shouting fans. Maybe if you had done a little more thinking about it first, you would've realised this was a stupid idea that should've been left at just that.
Throwing your head back you let out an exasperated sigh, trying to clear your head so that you could move on and focus on the race that was happening tomorrow. The last thing you wanted was for this plan to start impacting your driving. But Franco always seemed to have the worst timing - or best, depending on who you asked.
"Hello?" A couple quick knocks alert you of his presence before he cracks the door just wide enough to peek in. "There's my beautiful girlfriend." The way the pet names and affection seem to come to him so easily makes you simultaneously impressed and concerned, unsure of whether it's an indication of his great acting or flirting skills.
"What do you want?" You try to make it as obvious as you can that you're not in the mood, and he realises this right away.
"Oh, nothing, I just wanted to ask if you were free after this."
"You know I'm not really a huge fan of the big team dinners, especially not when we have a race tomorrow."
"Oh it's not like that, I was just going to go check out a restaurant near our hotel and wondered if you wanted to join me."
When you finally speak it's just above a whisper, "Is this a part of the fake dating thing?"
He laughs softly, his ability to find everything entertaining has always amazed you. "If you want to, it can be. If that gives you a reason to come hang out with me, though if you don't it's totally fine."
"No, I'll come, not like I've got anything better to do." You hate how every word you've said so far has sounded so pathetic.
"Great, I'll meet you by the paddock entry in ten?"
"See you then."
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The street lights were dim, just bright enough to illuminate the street the two of you were walking down. The night was cool and still, and there were barely any people out other than you. You weren't sure why, but you had ended up telling Franco a lot more than you had expected. Maybe it was the extremely fancy restaurant you had initially gone to or the local one the two of you agreed to ditch it for instead, or maybe it was just the freeing feeling of being in another country.
The two of you had talked before, of course - as teammates it was difficult to avoid. But beyond the casual small talk, discussions about strategies or banter during challenges your relationship never extended beyond casual co-existence. It was one of the reasons you were glad your higher-ups had never tried to force the two of you into a professional friendship. There was something about Franco, his ability to strike up a conversation and maintain it even when the topic clearly strayed far beyond his interests, that made him so likeable, so easy to get along with. And the support he got from fans and the media reflected this well. You just never felt like there was any room for you in that equation.
But here, away from the cameras and shedding the roles of drivers, the two of you became normal people. You spoke, you laughed, you vented to him everything that worried you about your 'relationship' and he listened throughout all of it - all the while the two of you shared the biggest, best, pizza you had ever had.
"I have to say, I don't know if our engineers will appreciate the extra weight I've just put on," he jokes, breaking the comfortable silence that had been lingering around you two as you walked.
"Me neither, they might have to roll me into the car at this rate."
"You know, I think this is the first time the two of us have hung out, just us two."
You think for a little before answering, "You're right."
"Do you think there's a reason for that?"
"You mean besides us both being extremely busy people and already seeing each other pretty often? Not really, no."
"Good point, though with our little plan, we're definitely going to be seeing each other a lot more."
There's a beat of silence. "This is nice though, right?" He asks, and his voice is so tentative you almost find it endearing.
"It is nice, this was fun." You try not to think too much about the fact the two of you could be mistaken by any passer-by as a couple of lovebirds on a first date - or that fact that even to those who knew you, you were.
"I appreciate you telling me all that stuff, you know, about what people are saying about you."
"Oh, if anything I should be thanking you for listening to me vent about it."
"It is serious though, I'm so stupid for not even thinking about what you'd have to deal with."
"Well I don't think either of us gave it enough thought but," you pause and look up at him, "we're too far in to back out now."
He shoots you a comforting smile, one that shows how reassured he feels that you seem to finally be coming around to his idea. That is, at least, before his face morphs into one of discomfort.
"God, I'm so full."
"We're almost back at the hotel now, let's just sleep and then we can wake up early tomorrow morning to-"
"Wait, is that ice cream?" Franco interrupts you to point out a street vendor who's about to pack up for the night, and before you know it he's running up to the man eagerly. You can only follow suit with a sigh, knowing full well you wouldn't mind some dessert either.
"You two are lucky, you'll be my last customers for the night," the moustachioed owner of the cart says with a warm smile.
"Thanks," you reply kindly, before turning to Franco, "what flavour do you think you'll get."
"Hm, not sure, maybe chocolate?"
"Wow, boring."
He scoffs, "Oh yeah? And what exotic flavour are you going to get then?"
"Mint choc," you smile, but your face drops once you see your teammate's disgusted expression.
"You've got to be kidding me, that's like the worst choice."
You feign offence, "How dare you insult the best ice cream flavour of all time?"
"Ah, you two are quite the couple," the man laughs and you watch as Franco's eyes widen in embarrassment.
"Oh we're not-"
"Thank you," it's your turn to interrupt him, turning to the man with a smile. "One chocolate and one mint choc chip please."
You go to reach for your wallet to pay but you feel a hand on yours, stopping you.
"No, it's okay, I got this."
"Wh- Franco c'mon you know full well both of us could afford about a thousand of these ice cream cones don't be ridiculous."
"I know," he smiles and even though he's trying to be serious you know he's also trying not to laugh, "but I just figured you know, I'm the one who dragged you out here and like, got you into this whole fake dating mess."
You furrow your brows, a little confused at what exactly he's getting at.
"I guess I just want to say thank you, you know?"
"Alright, alright," you laugh softly, watching as he pays and takes both of the cones, handing you yours. Once you grab yours, you instinctively loop your arm around his, pulling him close and resting your head against his shoulder. The ice cream man laughs endearingly at the two of you.
"You're the best boyfriend ever!" you say in as high and cute a voice you can manage, cringing a little but determined to keep up the bit - you don't even bother to think about how fast you can feel Franco's heart race when you do.
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Last night was really nice. You're sitting next to your race engineer, nodding along as she points to various multi-coloured dots and lines on the screen. You hear yourself agreeing with a couple quick "mhms", "of course" and "yep"s even though you can barely hear what she's saying. You're mere minutes away from getting in your car for a race, getting briefed on your strategy, and the only thing you can think of is the 'date' you had with Franco last night - if you can even call it that.
You had thought that getting everything off your chest, the hate comments, the doubt you had, would help you feel better and relieve any worries you had. And it did, at least until you got back to your hotel room alone and caught yourself smiling at the thought of seeing your teammate again the next day. How, even as you washed up and got ready for bed, you found yourself thinking - pizza, ice cream, walking at night together, isn't that something a real couple would do?
"Are you listening to me?" your race engineer's voice cuts through the haze of your thoughts, causing you to straighten up immediately.
"Yes! Sorry," you mumble, but just at that moment, you see him walk into the garage, greeting a couple of the mechanics warmly. Before you realise it, he's beelining straight for you, his arm coming around your waist as he leans in close to your ear.
"There's a ton of cameras, I just wanted to be believable," he whispers, and when he pulls back you can see the smile on his face. You nod curtly, fully aware of how red your face feels over such a small interaction as he waltzes away.
"Okay, so as I was saying," your race engineer pipes up again, though you couldn't be paying her less of your attention - watching as your 'boyfriend' walks off, his brown hair illuminating in the afternoon light. For a fake relationship, the quickening pace of your heart felt far too real.
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"Well you two have been teammates since the beginning of this year, can you tell us a little about when you realised you might be more?"
Your struggle was never-ending - or at least, that's what it felt like, finding yourself at the centre of an impromptu interview with Franco. Around you, the other drivers were getting questions about their place in their teams, how they felt about their current strategy and about their racing futures. And there the two of you were, getting thrown question after question about your 'relationship'.
"Well," you begin, before being saved by your teammate. You had to give it to him - he was great at making stuff up on the spot.
"Well, I think it was somewhere around a month after I first joined the team, and met her. It was just something about her, she's sort of electric in this almost untouchable way, you know?"
You try not to look too awkward standing next to him as he talks, feigning your best-interested smile - though a part of you is extremely intrigued by this fake story he's creating.
"At first I thought I just wanted to be like her, her passion and talent were just so respectable, but the more time I spent with her the more I realised it was something completely different."
He turns to look at you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him. Your expression falters a little as you're caught off guard by the sudden contact and as you turn away from the journalists and towards him, your eyes widen in shock at the sight of his pursed lips nearing yours. Before you realise it, his lips are against yours and you're pulling away as quickly as possible, face bright red. You're just barely aware of the thousands of flashing camera lights as you turn to quickly excuse yourself.
"Thank you all for coming, it was nice talking to you but, uhm, I have to go!" You hurriedly blurt out before slipping out of Franco's grip and darting off to your driver's room.
You hear his footsteps following closely behind you, as well as the sound of him calling out your name. When you near the door of your room, you turn around and grab his wrist to yank him in before you shut the door.
"What the hell was that?" is all you can muster out, "I thought we agreed no kissing?"
"Look, I can explain!"
You cross your arms with a huff, looking at him expectedly.
"I was just going to peck you quickly on the cheek, you know because we were getting all romantic and I wanted it to be believable! B-but then you turned, and then we," he's struggling not to ramble and his quickly moving hands do little to help. That's when you also realise his face is bright red as well, and he doesn't seem any less flustered by it than you do. "I'm really, really sorry I really shouldn't have done that."
You'd be lying if you said his explanation didn't make you feel any better. You're not actually upset about the kiss itself though, in fact, it's the opposite - actually, the grudge you're holding is doing little to help the internal struggle going on in your head. The kiss didn't make you angry, but the realisation that you wanted it to be real, did.
You sigh, rubbing your temples as you slump down in the nearest chair. Franco does the same on the adjacent couch, though his gaze stays carefully on you, almost afraid of what you might say next.
"It's fine, I think we just need to coordinate our PDA a little better then."
"Yes, of course," he nods quickly.
There's a beat of silence. "You're really good at acting though."
"What?"
"That whole story you made up about how you fell in love with me, it was really believable." You laugh lightheartedly trying to lighten the situation and alleviate the awkwardness that's settled between you two.
"Well it's pretty easy, I didn't need to make up much of it," his eyes catch yours and his gaze is soft when he smiles at you.
"What?" you're confused.
"Never mind," he scoffs lightly, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. He looks almost disappointed at something, though you can't realise what. "Well, I'll leave you alone now. I really am sorry about what happened before." You watch as he pushes himself up from the couch, his head hanging guiltily - looking almost like a scolded puppy.
"It's fine Franco, really, please don't feel too bad about it." He nods thankfully before slipping out the door, leaving you alone.
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Being a driver, hotel rooms had come to be a companion you knew far too familiarly. Their high ceilings, plush sterile white bedsheets, the empty bathroom - almost everything about them felt a sign of loneliness, of temporality, a house that never felt like home. Even though you knew how ridiculous it would be to complain about something that others would see as a privilege, it was hard to deny the isolation you felt whenever in a new country, away from most of your family or friends.
Maybe that's why you had been so eager to latch onto Franco's idea - it made sense, he had become the person you spent the most time with so why not give yourself some ridiculous reason to be around him even more? However somewhere along the way you stopped needing the reason of fake dating, somewhere in between hushed conversations, planned posts and candid photos - and instead found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. It was a little strange and sometimes acted as a sour reminder of how lonely you'd become but more than anything it felt like a blessing in disguise.
You were reminded of this fact as you lay, wrapped in a plush white hotel robe, across your messy bedsheets - laughing to yourself at the tweets your boyfriend had sent you. They were all about you, or the two of you, of course. Comments on the tiniest things, the way the two of you looked at each other, the way Franco held your hand, the way you worried about him.
"I feel a little bad, they're all so gullible," you typed quickly.
"Oh, so now you feel bad?" His response was almost instant.
"Don't you?"
"It's fun, isn't it? All this playing pretend."
Right, pretend. You rolled onto your back with a deep sigh, staring up at the tall hotel ceiling. All of this was just so confusing - as if figuring out how you felt about someone wasn't difficult enough, the two of you had complicated it by tricking the entire world into thinking you were in love. Whether you truly liked him or not, the idea was doomed for failure - and the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like the former.
"You're right," you typed back, watching intently as the three tiny dots appeared, disappeared then reappeared. What could he be saying that would need so much thinking?
"Can we talk tomorrow, after the race?"
You felt your stomach drop, had he finally caught on to how obvious you were being about how you truly felt, and decided that actually it might be better to just drop this whole act and go on as just teammates? With trembling hands, you typed back.
"Sure, what about?"
"I'll tell you then, for now, we should sleep."
"Goodnight Franco."
"Goodnight mi amor." You laughed softly to yourself at the nickname he had given you, though a small part of you took it as salt to the wound - almost as if he was dangling the possibility of something that could never happen right in front of your desperate little face.
However, not like you had a choice - all you could do now was get ready for bed and brace yourself for whatever tomorrow brought.
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You couldn't believe it. The sounds of celebration erupted around you, but you sat completely still in your car, silent, attempting to process what had just happened. Your first win, and, your first double podium, with Franco. Your head was spinning as the never-ending stream of thoughts raced through your mind. Suddenly, you heard a voice coming from above your car's halo, muffled by your helmet. You flick the visor up, lifting your head as highly as you could - locking eyes with your teammate.
"We did it! Oh my god!" The excitement on his face is enough to send a slight surge of energy through you as he offers you his hand, helping you out of the car. When you do though, you stumble a little - the nerves are almost too much for you.
"Woah, you alright?" Even through the fog clouding your mind you can make out the concern in Franco's voice and feel his arms steadying you.
"Yeah, just-" you mumble, gesturing to your helmet and making weak attempts to undo the clasps underneath it. It's almost suffocating you, and the chaos going on around you isn't helping the pounding headache.
"Oh, let me," he reacts immediately, dropping his own helmet and bringing his hands below your chin to swiftly undo the clasps and pull the helmet off of you. You take a deep breath of air as you pull off your fireproof mask, though it sounds more like a desperate gasp.
Around you, the crowds roar with excitement, both your team and others as they make attempts to gesture at the two of you to join them. Your head spins though, and you wobble backwards into Franco.
"It's too loud," is all you can stutter out, though he understands you almost immediately, a strong hand gripping your wrist and pulling you away from the noise and somewhere quieter. You're not entirely sure where he's taking you but at that moment you feel as though you'd follow him just about anywhere.
Luckily though, when your eyes refocus you're in his driver's room, and even though outside you can hear the cheers continuing, you're offered some solace here, the walls muffling the sound. You sigh, sinking into his couch as you throw your head back, panting still.
You feel like it's all just too much - not just the physicality of the race, but the feeling of winning it, winning it with Franco, just Franco himself. When you finally manage to catch your breath you lift your head to see him standing over you, watching intently.
"Better?"
"Much better, thank you." You smile earnestly, "Though I don't think we'll be able to hide in here much longer, there is a cooldown room for this exact reason."
"Oh, I mentioned it to someone, not sure who but he looked important, and he said it would be okay."
You laugh softly, amazed at how he can seem so calm even at a moment like this.
"We did it," you say, still not being able to believe it.
"We did," he smiles, sitting on the couch next to you, "a couples podium."
You feel your heart skip a beat at the sudden reminder of your conversation last night, him mentioning he had something to tell you. Was this it? The two of you had achieved what you had been wanting this entire time, and there was no better time to let this ridiculous bit go than now.
You stare at the wall of his room, the gigantic flag of his home country, and let out a shaky breath, mustering up the courage to break the silence. "So..."
He turns to you, one eyebrow raised in interest.
"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" You're trying your best to keep your voice lighthearted, "it sounded serious."
"Oh, well about that," he seems to have forgotten it temporarily as well, but the fact that he turns to look at the flag as well, almost unable to maintain eye contact with you, isn't a good sign.
Maybe it's the adrenaline from the race, maybe it's the fact that both of you are going to be needed out on the podium in about ten minutes - or maybe it's the fact that you're so desperate to get out these feelings and make him understand how you feel, but you start talking before you even realise it.
"Look, Franco, I," you start, not entirely sure of where you're going to end up, "I know you asked me to do this whole fake dating thing with you and I completely understand if you want to end it now, I mean why wouldn't we? It's perfect!"
He looks at you confused, lips parted as if about to interrupt you but you continue anyway, stupidly.
"But, look, here's the thing," you turn to him now, and you're sure your face is bright red, "I don't want this to end!"
You let out a deep sigh, and clutch your hands together to stop them from shaking, though it doesn't help that Franco looks even more confused now.
"What?" he says, and your heart drops.
"I," you pause, struggling to find the right words, and struggling to get them out, "I think I like you, like, for real." Okay, not exactly the best choice of words but it'll do.
"Like, not for the whole fake relationship thing?" his tone is still concerned and he leans in a little for clarification.
"Yes! Okay, I know it's not exactly what we thought would happen and it'll probably jeopardise our relationship as teammates but there, I like you okay."
"When did you realise?"
"A couple days ago, I'm sorry."
There's a beat of silence, and you're left with the agonising feeling of your heart racing in your chest, waiting eagerly for his response - for him to laugh in your face, for him to get mad, for him to reject you.
But instead, you watch as Franco's confused expression melts into one of pure relief as he sinks back into the couch with a sigh. "Oh, thank God."
It's your turn to be confused. "I'm sorry, what?"
"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that," he says, eyes fixed on the ceiling with the widest smile you've ever seen.
"Wait you mean you-"
"I win!"
You're absolutely speechless, not a single coherent thought on what is going on or how to respond. All you can get out is a confused sort of grunt.
"I win, I've liked you for longer!" he laughs, sitting up and grabbing your hands in his.
You feel as though your jaw is going to dislocate at how fast it drops, "I'm sorry?"
"Oh c'mon, we've been teammates for a year I know you're not that oblivious."
"Well, apparently I am because I'm really confused."
"I've liked you since the moment I met you, you idiot."
"Wh-" You're about to be offended at the name-calling until what he says finally hits you. He likes you. He has liked you. For ages. You idiot.
"Even when you proposed this to me?"
"Yep."
"Even when we went to get ice cream?"
"Yep."
"Even when you kissed me?"
"Y- well wait no that was completely unintentional," he holds his hands out in defence. You slump back, trying your best to process everything today has entailed, it's almost too much. That is until you feel Franco move a little closer to you, his arm stretching around your shoulders and gently moving your head to lay on his. At that moment, it all becomes clear, and you're suddenly unsure about why you ever felt confused about any of this.
"What now?" You say, barely above a whisper.
"We go and get our trophies," even though you're not looking you can hear the smile in his voice. "Though, before then."
You lift your head up off his shoulder to turn to him with raised brows. "Hm?"
"Now that we aren't fake dating, do the rules still apply?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I'd really like to kiss you right now," he whispers, and there's a hint of nerves as you watch his eyes dart in between yours and your lips.
"Really can't wait can you," you tease, though you still move to close the space in between you to. But just before your lips can touch his there's a knock at the door, causing you both to slump back with a sigh.
"Hey, are you two in there?" it's your race mechanic, "you're needed, you know, on the podium."
You roll your eyes to show your obvious disappointment at being interrupted, though Franco just watches you with an endeared smile.
"What are you thinking about?" you ask, not being able to hide your own smile.
"I'm just thinking about how beautiful you're going to look up on that podium, and how I won't have to pretend not to be in love with you anymore."
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moonstruckme · 6 months ago
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James Potter or tasm!peter parker fluff or comfort?? I dont mind whatever you write ill love 🙏🙏
Thanks for requesting :)
cw: implied past abuse
tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words
Peter’s having a rough week. These things always seem to happen to him. He’s got a big presentation at work on Friday, by which time the project he’s been underfunded and understaffed for has to be finished. His Aunt May has been busy with work, too, so either you or Peter is at her place most nights trying to help out, except she seems to think when it’s Peter it’s familial responsibility but when it’s you it's an unfair burden, so it’s mostly been Peter. There’s also an impressively organized cell of criminals he’s been trying to investigate before they blow up a bank or something. So of course, he’s sleep deprived to boot. 
And while you know the rough edge of frustration in his voice isn’t meant for you, hearing it makes your skin tighten nonetheless. 
“How does a person run out of salt?” Peter stalks through the front door and straight into the kitchen. “Or maybe the better question is, why does it take going to three bodegas to find one with salt in stock?”  
He’s soaked from the rain, and you feel guilty for being all cozied up on the couch while he’s been running around the city. Maybe it’s irrational, but you feel sort of like you should have been stressed out and cold all night, too. In solidarity. 
“May didn’t have salt?” you guess as Peter opens the fridge, stooping low to peer inside. 
“You should see her pantry, babe. It’s like everything either expired at the turn of the century or got bugs in it. Hey, did you make anything for dinner?” 
“No.” You hesitate. “You told me you wanted to eat at May’s, so I had the leftovers from last night.” 
“Shit.” He closes the fridge, resting his forehead on the door. “You’re right. I totally forgot, I only made enough for her.” 
“I’ll make something now.” You stand. Peter gives you a look that conveys both apology and gratitude as you join him in your small kitchen. “You feel like pasta?” 
“Thank you,” he says, kissing the top of your head lightly. 
“Course,” you murmur. Really, it feels like the least you can do. “Would you mind chopping up some basil?” 
“For my own dinner?” Peter teases. The levity in his voice is obviously forced, and the air between you heavies as he realizes you’ve heard it too. 
You almost don’t want to ask, but you do want to be a supportive girlfriend. You can lend him a compassionate ear. “How was work today?” 
He sighs, grabbing the cutting board from a cabinet near your feet and shutting the door with perhaps a tad too much force. 
“It was…ahh.” He scrubs a hand through his hair, stooping again into the white fridge light to find the basil. It casts dark shadows underneath his eyes. “You’ve gotta be sick of hearing about this.” 
“It’s okay. Unless you don’t feel like talking about it.” 
“No, it’s just, how do they expect us to stick to their tight schedule when half of my lab is being pulled away to other projects all the time?” Peter’s knife slices through the basil, hitting the cutting board with a sharp thunk. “Today, we were down one intern who caught the stomach flu, and it set us way back. One intern shouldn’t be that crucial to a big project like this!” 
You hum, ignoring the way the back of your neck prickles. The tension emanating from Peter is completely valid, your reaction a bothersome, purposeless souvenir from an old life. You find yourself staring into the pot of water and waiting for it to boil. 
“And it’s not like it’s anyone’s fault, but all the rest of us are working extra hours to try and get this done in time.” 
Small bubbles in the bottom of the pot, rising tentatively to the surface. Peter’s knife thunks a quickening rhythm on the cutting board. 
“If they’d given us the money we asked for, we could have hired more people, been working with better equipment, but instead—” The water starts to rumble, steam warming your face. It’s thick in your throat. “—it’s like we don’t even work for a top-notch lab. Like, do they think we really believe they don’t have any resources to spare?”
Peter’s voice is rising, irritation sharpening his words. You reach to turn down the stove when big bubbles reach the surface, splattering hot onto your wrist. You ignore the sting. 
“My boss keeps talking about how important this presentation is,” Peter goes on, opening the cabinet next to your head and reaching inside, “but if it were really important, he’d have—” He slams the cabinet door. 
You both freeze. 
To anyone else, it would look like nothing—the way your expression stays perfectly still, your muscles stiffening just slightly, the invisible pause in your heartbeat. But Peter knows you. 
“Sorry.” He sounds as breathless as you feel. “I’m sorry. You okay?” 
“Mhm.” Despite your best intentions, your voice comes out pitchy. You can’t make yourself move in a way that feels natural, so you stay not moving at all. Steam wafting warm up onto your face. 
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Peter says, tone softer than you’ve heard it in days. “I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to yell.” The roiling pot has calmed to a gurgle. You can see him swallow in your peripheral vision. “Can you look at me?” 
You take in what you hope is a subtle breath, turning to your boyfriend with a wan smile. “Sorry,” you manage. “I don’t know why I did that.” 
“It’s okay,” he says, brows bunched in the middle. Brown eyes like a puppy’s. 
He shifts his arms, a question, and you step into them. You do it more for him than for you, but the second Peter’s arms wrap around your back the last of the tension shudders out of you. You hug him back, rubbing between his shoulder blades reassuringly. 
“I scared you?” he asks, still in that soft voice like he’s afraid of startling you. It’s not really a question. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to get so mad.” 
“You’re allowed to be mad,” you argue weakly. There’s an embarrassing blockage in your throat. “It’s not your fault if I freak out, you should still be allowed to vent.” 
“No, but I know how you are.” Peter squeezes your shoulders. “I can vent without slamming things. It’s not nice.” 
You don’t have much of an argument for that. Still, “You really shouldn’t be the one comforting me right now,” you point out. 
A light hum. “Says who? I’m feeling a lot better already.” His hand climbs up to cup the back of your neck, his face turning down so his lips rest on your head. “Should’a just gone straight for the hug when I got home. Might have saved us both a lot of ranting.” 
You push your face into his sweatshirt, mindless of its dampness. He smells like rainwater. You don’t know how you could ever have thought, even for a second, that someone like this could be capable of hurting you. 
“I’ll make a note of that,” you murmur. 
“Yeah, please do,” Peter teases, pressing a kiss to your head. He pulls away and sets two still-chilled hands on your face. “Are you really okay?” he asks sincerely. “I know how scared you get, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I did that to you.” 
“You didn’t mean to,” you tell him, “and it wouldn’t be your fault anyways. I’m really okay.” 
Your boyfriend nods, but he still looks troubled. “Another hug for good measure?” 
“For you or for me?” 
A corner of his mouth kicks up. “Does it matter?” 
It doesn’t really.
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emmyrosee · 2 years ago
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“Do you remember when your ex dumped you back in second year and you came over to my house crying?”
Hajime nearly combusts in your lap with how hot his face became, a deep flush of scarlet making its presence known. Poor thing had been scrolling on his phone with his head resting on your thighs, almost dozing off from the feeling of your fingers tangled in his hair.
“First of all, I’d just like to let you know that I hated the way you started this conversation,” He scowls, emerald eyes flicking up to your curious face from his phone. “Secondly, what’s the point of your question?”
“Well I just realized that I never really knew why you two broke up, and I kinda want to know.”
Instantly, Hajime rolls his eyes before sitting up, his large hand pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t know… does it matter? It was years ago, why do you think about them?”
“Well you know about my hookups!”
“Babe, we’ve all made out with Mattsun, I’ve told you it doesn’t count-“
“You all WHAT?”
“I thought that was common knowledge,” he shrugs. You blink at him, eyes wide before one brow quirks in confusion, “uhm. We’ll come back to that. Now, about that ex-“
“Please don’t make me say it,” he whines, resting his elbows on his knees and face burying in his hands. His ears are bright red, flushed to the point where you’re sure it’s hot to the touch, but when he responds like that, you’re almost determined to make him answer, no matter how much of a bully you’re being.
“Okay, you can’t respond like that and expect me not to be curious,” you snort, your arms tossing around his hunched frame. “C‘mon Haji,” you purr, nudging the bit of his cheek with your nose. “It’s just me, babe. You know you can tell me anything.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“We’ve lived together for two years, you’ve come in the bathroom to floss you’re teeth while I’m pooping, you let me pop blackheads on your nose on facetime with your friends, but this is embarrassing?”
“Well it was, but now I’m questioning this entire situation.”
You roll your eyes, “you fucking love me.” Then, you smile and bounce on your haunches, “tell me! You can trust me! Besides, you already know I’m going to ask tooru anyways, so you may as well-”
“Jesus fuck, alright,” he growls, but his grumpiness quickly turns less threatening when your arms toss around his shoulders and you plant a kiss to his cheek. He gives you a sigh and rubs his eyes.
“So… my ex and I were each other’s like. First serious relationship,” he begins, and he absolutely hates how invested you already look. “I mean, we were together for nine months, it was the first time someone wanted to know me and not just to get closer to Tooru.”
The idea of that makes you pout slightly; in your own dating, you’d never had thought about people using him to get closer to Oikawa, you’d always known you wanted him. You nod and bring your hand up to card his thick locks, something he’d always found comfort in.
You also remember how heart broken you were when you'd seen and heard that they were together. How Hanamaki tried relentlessly to cheer you up, build you back up, and how guilty you felt for not being happy for your friend. You'd been there first to want him and not Tooru, but it was in vain.
Besides, you were together now; in your head, there's no reason why he should be nervous to tell you.
He angles his head into your touch, "and... and they were good to me! They trusted me and they appreciated all I would do, and at the end of the day, they were the ones who I always could turn to."
"Hey! You could've turned to me!"
"This isn't about you," he scolds playfully. "Anyways. They loved me until the end, and if I didn't ruin shit, we may have still been together."
"Yeah, that doesn't make me feel insecure at all," you grumble.
He furrows his brows, but it’s offset with a smirk, "if you'd let me talk and finish the story, you wouldn't have to feel insecure."
You stay quiet again. He rolls his eyes and pinches the brim of his nose, "then... do you remember Hanamaki's party for going into third year?"
"Yeah." It was a party you'd remembered being fine until Oikawa had to drive a sickened Hajime home, and you'd blown up his phone in worry. Hanamaki called you obsessive. You put a thumbtack in his sneaker.
"Right... so," he rubs the back of his neck nervously. "So we kinda... snuck away to be alone and use those stupid lovers affirmations and... and then things got touchy and kissy and-"
"Gagging."
"Interrupting again," he snips before composing himself again. Now, he's really starting to fidget, and you're starting to have an uneasy feeling about it. "And we started kissing and out hands started to wander and..." he pauses and looks at you, half expecting you to interrupt, but at the sight of you completely immersed, he grimaces.
“And… and they moaned my name… and then, when I was uhm… I was supposed to moan theirs…”
“Oh my god, did you moan Oikawa’s?” You gasp, already falling to a fit of laughter from your anxiety. It was a common joke in the group that Tooru and Hajime were secretly together but dated others so they wouldn’t seem suspicious, but to think it could be true caused you to absolutely cackle. “No wonder they dumped you!I can see it now! Just a soft little t-tooru-“
“Fuck off, I moaned your name, asshole.”
Your laughter stopped immediately, your face dropping to one of absolute surprise. The smugness that dripped from your tone now seems to reside in his, and he smirks softly as he crosses his arms.
“Not so funny now, is it?”
“You… you said my name?”
“Yeah,” he scoffs. He adverts his gaze and tries to fight the blush splaying on his face, “I’ve wanted you since the beginning.”
“Why did you never like… try?”
“I thought you liked Oikawa.”
“Why would you think I like Oikawa!”
“You spent so much time with him!”
“Because I was too shy to be near you, stupid!”
The both of your chests heave at your confessions, before you break the silence with a few breathy giggles.
"Fuck, man," you chuckle, curling your frame into his side. "We truly were so dumb."
"You don't know how hard Oikawa tried to convince me to confess to you."
"Same!" You say, beaming. "I always told him there was no shot you would've had feelings for me."
He doesn't admit it, but you know Hajime had a similar experience with his friend. The silence falls much more comfortable than it had been before, and with your attention turned back to the TV, you flick your gaze back briefly when you feel Hajime reach for his phone. "Whatcha doin'?"
He smirks, "gonna text Oikawa that I just realized you had a crush on me in high school."
You snort, "you're evil. You trying to give him an aneurism?"
"Maybe."
You pause. Then you paw for your own phone to text the same victim.
Might as well make him bitter, together.
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baptismbaby · 1 year ago
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† GOD, FORGIVE ME PT. 2
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mean!ellie x innocent!reader a/n: posted this to ao3: baptismsbaby warnings: toxic!ellie, corruption, virgin!reader, praise, degrading, gaslighter!ellie, belittling, strap on (r!receiving), not rlly angsty but sorta? creds to elliesgalaxy on pinterest for the pic of ellie wc: 4k<3 part one here
You kneeled by your Bible and candles praying for forgiveness for what happened the previous night. Although you enjoyed your time with Ellie, you felt guilty for going against your own morals. You didn’t judge your friends for having premarital sex and you didn’t think you’d go to Hell over it. If so, everyone would burn and not reach paradise. But you always told yourself that you’d wait until you were married before having sex. You blamed the alcohol and the weed but a part of you believed you would’ve done it sober.
You stood up with a sigh, knowing you had promised to meet Dina for lunch to talk about Ellie’s apology. You spent all night coming up with a lie, which you also felt horrible about. You grabbed your bag and headed out the door. You greeted everyone with a smile as you walked past them. You were thankful that no one knew you drank and smoked the night before.
You walked in and almost ran face first into Seth, who glared down at you. “Sorry!” you apologized, stepping past him and heading towards the table where Dina was sitting.
“Hey you,” she greeted with a smile. “How are you feeling today?”
You sat down and set your bag in the chair next to you. “I woke up with a slight headache this morning but it went away after an hour. So I guess not too bad,” you responded.
“You’re a champ. I feel much better but I woke up feeling like complete shit.”
“I guess I didn’t drink enough to get a proper hangover.”
“Which means you didn’t get drunk enough. Gotta try again!”
“Absolutely not!” you disagreed. “I don’t think I wanna drink again. It tasted horrible!”
“That’s why you get a chaser,” said Dina. “Anyways, let’s get to why we’re here.”
She grabbed your wrist and looked deep into your eyes with a smirk. “Please tell me what Ellie said! I’m so shocked she apologized. She never admits when she’s in the wrong.”
“Well, she came up there and basically told me that she felt bad for making me upset. Even though she’s always doing that,” you laughed. “But she said she realized it went too far and that really, I’m not that bad or something like that. She promised she wouldn’t make fun of me again but who knows.”
“So, are you two gonna be friends?” Dina asked.
You shrugged. “I don’t know… she actually invited me over to watch a movie tonight but I think I’m gonna pass.”
“I think you should go. Ellie never invites people to her place unless it’s for a party or she’s bringing a girl home to fuck. Damn, she really feels bad then,” said Dina.
You couldn’t help but smile. Even though she wanted you to come over to fuck you again, you liked the idea of Dina believing Ellie was going out of her way to prove how sorry she was to you. You originally were going to come over and tell her you weren’t sure if y’all should continue seeing each other but it wouldn’t hurt convincing her to watch a movie. 
“Maybe I will go,” you stated. “I wouldn’t want things going back to how they were before.”
Dina peeked behind you and smiled. “Speak of the devil,” she said. You glanced back to see Ellie walking in. Her hair was messy, the top half of it tied up. She wore her gray hoodie still and baggy jeans. She looked over and made eye contact with you. She fixed her gaze on Dina and made her way to the table.
“Sup, Dina,” she said.
“Hey Ellie.”
Ellie looked back at you and nodded. She walked away and sat with a dark haired woman across the room. She smirked at you before starting a conversation with the girl. You frowned, holding your head up with her hand.
“Well, she didn’t say anything to you but she acknowledged you,” Dina uttered.
You couldn’t stop staring at Ellie and the girl. “Who is she sitting with?” you interrogated.
“That’s Cat. You know Cat, she just cut her hair so she’s a bit unrecognizable now.”
You felt a pain shoot through your stomach in jealousy. “Oh, her ex?”
“Yeah. I think they’re talking again. After you left the party, she came by and they disappeared for a couple minutes.”
You felt sick. Ellie used you and knew how much it meant to you to have sex. You got up quickly, the chair scraping across the floor loudly. Ellie turned her head from across the room, staring at you in confusion.
“I-I forgot,” you said. “I forgot I was supposed to help Sadie with something for bible study.”
Dina cocked an eyebrow at you. “Sadie’s on patrol?”
You smacked your face with your hand. “Shoot, you’re right. That’s next Saturday. Nevermind. I do need to go, though. My head is beginning to hurt again. I think I need a nap. It’s starting to get busy and all the chatter is killing me.”
“You alright?” asked Dina with concern.
“I’ll be okay. I’ll take a nap and feel better.”
“Let me know if you need anything. Oh, and come by tomorrow around noon! I wanna know what you and Ellie are gonna talk about tonight.”
You said nothing to Dina, spinning around to leave. As you walked out, you could see through the window that Ellie was at Dina’s table, leaned over and talking to her. You turned away and sped up so you could get home quickly. 
-
You stood at the mirror on your door, looking up and down at your outfit. You wore your normal baggy clothes so Ellie wouldn’t get any ideas when you went over to talk to her. You grabbed your coat as you exited the door and headed down the steps. Ellie was just two blocks over but you knew you would be freezing to death before you got there. You shoved the jacket on and started walking down the road, your thoughts running rampant as you figured out what’d you say. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way Ellie looked at Cat as they spoke. The more you thought about it, the more you thought about the way Ellie looked in your eyes as she hovered over you. You got close to Ellie’s home and shook those thoughts away, mumbling a quick prayer to yourself so you would stay strong and stay on track.
You knocked on Ellie’s door and waited for her to open it. You heard shuffling inside and then the knob turned, revealing Ellie in a tank top and jeans. You looked down at her exposed tattoo then back up at her face. She wore a shit-eating grin as she stepped aside to let you in. You brushed past her, throwing yourself on her couch in irritation.
“What’s wrong?” asked Ellie, coming to sit next to you. “Mad that I didn’t say hi earlier? Is that it?”
You scooted away from her and refused to look at her. “No,” you muttered.
“Aw, talk to me, pretty girl.” 
She reached out to grab your thigh but you smacked her hand away. You stood up and towered over Ellie, glaring at her sweet face. “I-I came here originally to tell you that maybe we shouldn’t have sex again!” you declared. Ellie leaned back, an amused look on her face. “I told myself that I would wait for marriage. My virginity was important to me, Ellie.”
“So… you’re upset that you had sex before being married?” questioned Ellie, still looking entertained about what you were saying.
“I was at first! I prayed and cried, begging God to forgive me. Mostly prayed that He’d forgive me for blaspheming Him. But now I feel stupid for losing my virginity to you,” you explained bitterly.
Ellie frowned. “You didn’t enjoy last night?” she asked in a mocking tone.
“You don’t want me. You’re talking to Cat again! And I’m angry that I was a fool to think you really wanted me. You just wanted in my pants so that you could say you made the good Christian girl go back on her morals, made her give herself to you completely! Just another thing to brag to your friends about.”
Ellie broke out into laughter. “This is about me having lunch with Cat?” She almost couldn’t believe it. You were jealous and assuming something was going on between her and Cat all because you saw them two together.
“Well, you’re sleeping with her again aren’t you?”
“No,” Ellie scoffed. “Who put that idea in your head anyway? Dina?”
“When I left the party, what happened?”
Ellie felt like she was being tested. She hated feeling that way. She only fucked you once and you were already testing her as if you two were in a relationship.
“Cat came by and we talked,” Ellie replied honestly.
“Dina said y’all left the party for a couple minutes.”
“Exactly! I wouldn’t even say a couple minutes, it was probably less than a minute.”
“What did she want?”
“Really? Why does it matter?”
“I can’t sleep with you if you’re sleeping with her too,” you said.
“You’re gonna feel really stupid when I tell you why we met up today.”
You groaned, frustrated that Ellie was making you feel this way. You wished you ghosted her instead. If she wanted her ex, fine. But she was an idiot to think she could still fuck you on the side.
“She wanted advice on how to ask out the girl she’s been seeing.”
Ellie watched as your face turned red in embarrassment.
“You feel stupid, huh?” she teased, smirking at your mortified expression.
“Don’t,” you scolded. “Don’t even… don’t go back to that or I’ll leave.”
“I’m not being mean, baby. I’m stating a fact. C’mere… I know you’re sorry. I forgive you.”
You walked over to her, your knees almost touching hers as she sat up and brushed her fingers along your arms.
“I like that you were jealous. I like that you felt dumb for assuming shit. That’s all you are, my dumb puppy,” she spoke in a low raspy voice. She actually didn’t enjoy that you had gotten jealous. All you were to her was a fucktoy. Jealousy ruins her fun. Ellie decided to let it slide for the night, wanting nothing more than to fuck you until all you can say is a string of apologies for thinking bad of her.
You pulled your arms away, sighing at the loss of her touch but wanting to stand your ground.
“I am sorry, Ellie. But it doesn’t change the fact that we shouldn’t have sex anymore. I wanted to wait until marriage and I want to wait until marriage to have sex again. I messed up once and it’s okay but I cannot sin this way again.”
Ellie hummed, her finger lifting up your shirt slightly to stick it in the hem of your jeans. She slid it across your skin, looking up as your breathing got faster.
“But it felt so good to sin, didn’t it, baby?” she cooed.
“I refuse to confess that to you. God has already forgiven me. I mean it.”
“Then make me stop.”
Ellie started to unbutton your pants, sliding them down around your ankles. She chuckled at the sight of your soaked panties. “You want this as much as I do,” she taunted.
You watched as she pulled them back up. “But if you really don’t want to… well, I won’t make you. But it makes me sad. I had so much planned for tonight.”
You fought with yourself internally as a part of you was desperate for her to take them off again and touch you. You hadn’t moved an inch, not even to button your jeans up. They were falling down slowly, too slow for your liking.
You knew it was wrong but decided it would be okay. All of your friends do it and they’re good people. You truly believed that there was no way that they would go to hell for having sex. They were the best friends you ever had. You never judged them for it so why would they judge you?
You hesitated before you spoke up. “W-What did you have planned?”
Ellie smirked devilishly. She knew you’d give in if she made you feel bad about it. While she realized it was wrong, she didn’t care because things were going her way.
“Follow me,” she demanded. She stood up and you walked after her, feeling nervous but in a good way. Ellie stepped inside her room and you admired the walls. There were so many posters and trinkets scattered over her dressers. In one corner of the room, she had a desk with papers all over it and a guitar next to it. Ellie was digging through her closet as you inched closer to read the papers. Before you could pick one up, Ellie dropped something which startled you. You spun around to see her eyeing you closely. She had thrown something back in the closet on purpose to gain your attention. She shook her head no, her eyes squinted into a glare. You backed away from her desk, choosing to sit on the bed instead.
“Atta girl,” Ellie complimented. She made her way over to the bed with a box. She placed it in front of you on the floor and you peeked in, gasping. 
“You’re gonna use all of that on me?”
She chuckled. “No, I want you to pick.”
“To put inside me?”
“For me to wear so I can fuck you properly,” she explained, her voice soft and almost condescending. She knew you had no idea what she meant and how she was going to use it. “Do you see this? It’s a harness,” she continued, holding it up to show you. “I wear it over my boxers and I’ll have whichever one you pick attached to it.”
You looked back in the box and started going through it, picking up different ones and making a face before putting it back in. “These are too big, Ellie,” you admitted. “I think it’ll hurt too much.”
“It’s supposed to hurt the first time, honey. Do you want me to take out the smallest one I have?”
You nodded and slid the box over to her. She reached in and grabbed one, passing it over to you. “It’s five and a half inches long,” she said. “Pretty average. Thick enough but not too thick. Is this okay?”
“It’s okay. Please be gentle, though,” you begged.
“What, you really think I’d be rough on you? I’m not gonna do that until you’re used to it, dummy. I’ll be real slow and gentle until you say otherwise. Although, I’ll probably keep it slow. Not sure if you deserve to be fucked hard. You did come in here accusing me of bullshit earlier.”
You pouted at Ellie, feeling that it was unfair for her to bring it up. Your pout went away though as you watched her take her shirt off. Your eyes followed her hands as she slowly unbuckled her belt and pulled it out of the loops. She shoved her jeans off and stepped out of them. Ellie walked over to you, smirking as you stared at her in awe. “Give it,” she whispered. You handed her the dildo. “Take off your clothes, pup. You wanna be ready for me once this is put together, don’t you?”
You obliged, standing up to discard your clothes as fast as you could. Ellie laughed softly at your desperation. You were completely naked by the time the strap was ready. Ellie stepped closer to you as you pushed yourself further up on the bed. You laid back on the pillow, Ellie now hovering over you. “Such a needy girl,” she murmured. “You’re so desperate for my cock, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Ellie,” you breathed. She looked down at your pussy, gliding her fingers along your thighs.
“I could touch you,” she began. “But do you really deserve that?”
“Y-You bullied me for years, Els, do you deserve to fuck me?” you said slightly above a whisper. You realized what you had said as Ellie’s face twisted into an expression of annoyance. “I-I didn’t mean it-”
“You meant it,” she interrupted. “You want to be a brat now baby? Now you really have to prove how sorry you are.”
“I am sorry!” you whined. You reached up to touch her but she smacked your hand away.
“I’m pissed because I can’t fuck you how I want to. If you continue to act like a brat by the time you’re adjusted to my cock, I’ll fuck the attitude right out of you. I’ll make a mess of you. A braindead little bitch with an aching cunt, crying because I won’t let you cum no matter how much you beg. Got it?”
You nodded, her threats turning you on even more. You liked when she called you a good girl but you also enjoyed the side of her that was angry with you. You couldn’t wait until you got used to getting fucked with a strap so that she could do whatever she wanted with you.
“Use your words,” she demanded.
“I got it, Ellie.”
“Good girl. You want me to continue?”
“Yes please,” you answered.
“God, you’re so beautiful when you’re like this,” said Ellie, going back to being soft and sweet with you. She began to press the tip of her dick to your clit, a soft gasp escaping your lips. “Does that feel good, pup?”
“Mhm!” you moaned in agreement. “S’ good, Ellie!”
“Do you want more or do you want me to put it in?”
“In,” you responded eagerly. 
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“If you need me to stop or go slower or anything like that, tell me,” she said as she lined her cock up with your entrance. “Are you ready?”
You nodded. Ellie leaned closer so that her face was right in front of yours to watch your reaction. She slowly pushed into you, making you yelp in pain.
“Sh, just like that baby,” Ellie whispered in a raspy voice. “It’s okay. You can take it.”
Ellie kept it inside you for a few seconds so you could adjust to the feeling before she started to thrust into you gently. You whined in both pain and pleasure, loving the feeling of Ellie’s strap inside of you.
“Good girl, you’re taking it so well.”
Ellie kissed you softly as you wrapped your arms around her. Your nails dug into her back, scratching her with every thrust. Ellie rolled her hips at a steady pace, talking you through it until you reached down and tugged at her waist.
“You want more baby?”
“Please, go harder.”
Ellie went harder but still kept the slow pace, watching as your eyes squeezed shut from how good it felt. “Fuck,” Ellie moaned, the sound of your wet pussy making her throb. “You feel good, pup? Is your cunt adjusting well to my cock? Hm?”
“Yes,” you whimpered. “I-I want you to go-to go faster, Els. Please!”
Ellie grinned at your pleading and sped up, hitting all the right spots inside of you. You moaned louder, gripping Ellie’s shoulders and crying out her name.
“Yeah? You like that, honey? Tell me how good it feels,” said Ellie between grunts.
“Fuck it feels s-so good! I’m about to cum, please let me cum!” you begged.
“Such a good little slut, asking for permission. Cum for me like the good girl you are, my good girl,” Ellie growled.
She plunged deeper into you and faster, watching your face as you squealed and whined. Your orgasm took over your body, making you scream out Ellie’s name. Ellie slowed down as you trembled beneath her.
“Atta girl,” she praised. 
She pulled out of you and laid back on the bed beside you, turning on her side to watch you catch your breath.
“Was that okay? Did I hurt you?”
You looked over at her and shook your head. “It stung at first but I got used to it. It felt really good,” you uttered between breaths.
“Good, I got a bit too carried away at the end but you seemed to enjoy it.”
You giggled. “Yeah, I did like it when you were rougher.”
“Noted,” Ellie said as she reached over to her drawer, opening it and pulling out an already rolled blunt. She lit it up and offered it to you but you declined.
“I can barely think, Ellie.”
Ellie shrugged and puffed on it, blowing it out away from you. “Suit yourself, doll.”
“Can I ask you something?”
Ellie nodded. “I was wondering… if maybe you could teach me how to touch you?”
“No,” Ellie said almost too quickly. “I can get myself off when you leave. You can stay until I finish this.”
“Oh, I’m not staying the night?”
Ellie shook her head no. You sighed, realizing that you had to walk home with weak legs.
“Why won’t you teach me?” 
“Teach you what?”
“Um, teach me how to touch you? I don’t think it’s fair I cum and you don’t,” you stated.
“I don’t do that unless I’m in a relationship with that person.”
“Well, something will come out of this probably so you might as well show me now!” you said as you laughed. You saw the confused expression Ellie made, your smile faltering. “I mean, it is going to, isn’t it?”
“It’s going to what?”
You sighed in frustration, getting mad that Ellie was playing dumb. You knew her better than that. Ellie was a smart girl but would fight her way out of admitting something she didn’t want to. You raised up and grabbed your clothes, suddenly feeling embarrassed and nauseous. “I feel so stupid,” you whispered to yourself. “I should just go.”
“Hey, I want you to stay until I finish my joint so I can walk you out.”
“Such a gentleman, Ellie,” you spat back sarcastically.
“What was that? Did I not just let you cum on my cock after you insulted me earlier? I wasn’t going to let you but I did out of kindness. You should watch your tone with me, church girl, because I won’t be so nice next time.”
“You’re fucking me but don’t plan on having anything with me at some point?” you asked as you stood up. You tumbled a bit due to how shaky your legs were but you tried your best to not let it show. “You could’ve told me.”
Ellie scoffed. “I’m just havin’ fun. I didn’t realize you would want this to be a relationship.”
“I assumed you knew because of how I am. I’m a Christian who dates to marry,” you argued.
“Right, just like you assumed I was fucking Cat again all because you saw us sitting together. Relax, I don’t know where this will go. I like fucking you and I plan on fucking you as often as I can. Not if you’re gonna let your feelings get in the way, though.”
You rolled your eyes and started to get dressed. Ellie continued to smoke her joint while she observed you. “I already know you’re gonna say this is the last time,” Ellie continued. “But you’ll come back. I know you will. I think you need me.”
“What I need is to go home and sleep. I also need you to leave me alone,” you mumbled.
“When I show up to your door tomorrow night, are you really gonna turn me away?”
“Bye, Ellie,” you said as you started to walk away.
“Wait,” Ellie stood up and put her joint out. She slid out of the harness and threw it on the bed, grabbing her tank top and shoving it on as she chased after you. You were almost at the door when she jogged in front of you, opening it for you. “I’ll see you tomorrow, pup,” she said in a teasing tone.
“Fuck you.”
You walked out, Ellie still at the door to watch you go. “You’re gonna regret that tomorrow!”
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for-a-longlongtime · 4 months ago
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Guilty Pleasure (3/7) - dbf!Joel x reader
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Sunday dinner with your parents and Joel is... weird. But also hot.
Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 42), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy' (no real daddy kink), outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 1.7K A/N: I told you part III would follow soon! I had initially planned this for tomorrow, but then I figured I might as well turn dinner with da-- I mean, dinner into a Sunday meal, because why not. 😈 Thank you so much to everybody who has been commenting, reblogging (I appreciate you sharing it with others!!) and liking this fic so far! Things get messy today... let me know what you think. Is reader playing this right, or...?
< part 2 | series masterlist | main masterlist
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Surprisingly, it's Joel who is late for Sunday dinner.
Not your father; he’s home early even, looking tired and stressed but trying to put on a front - which is far from the first time you’ve seen him do so. When you were younger, you once asked your mom why he never was more upfront about having hard days. Since he frequently appeared on tv to talk about new ventures or collaborations, you knew that his work wasn’t exactly easy breezy, but whenever you had asked him about it as a kid, he would brush off those concerns. “Somebody’s gotta do it,” or “I’ve got the experience to pull it off”, or any corny variation of that. 
You used to love joining him at his office, something you got away with when you were still in primary school - which you realized later probably had to do with the sizable annual donations your father made to your school. Either way, it was exciting. The massive building where he worked, the technology, all those people looking extremely important in their outfits, swiping access cards in order to get into secure areas, so many meeting rooms, and not to forget the press room. You were in awe, determined to work there when you’d grow up, to follow in your father’s footsteps.
Until things came crashing down. 
The missed plays, PTA meetings, and staying up late weren’t so bad initially. What started bothering you the most was how everybody seemed to give him a pass. Most of all your grandmother. She spoke about how your grandfather used to be in charge, many years before your father took over, and how good he was. How your father was so much like him. Responsible, in charge, a leader, ‘such a good man’. 
And see - that was the problem. Because no matter how well you did at school or with the things you loved to do, it always felt like you were merely in his shadow. You’d never be respected the way he is - because you weren’t like him, or them, which everybody seemed to expect. 
So you decided to not care. Absolutely zero fucks. You didn’t need his approval, or anyone else’s. You were going to do whatever you wanted to do. 
This summer, that meant doing Joel. A lot, preferably.
Joel, sitting at the table with you and your parents, looking all broad in his green flannel, almost having missed dinner this evening - which of course you would’ve gotten shit for if it had happened to you. “Issues at the construction site, damn Tommy couldn’t handle it on his own,” he grouses as your dad puts a beer in his hand, while your mom assures him it is no problem. 
Aside from Joel being so damn distracting with his presence, it’s weird to all be seated at the dinner table on a Sunday. It’s not just that this hadn’t happened since you moved home for the summer; it actually was something that hadn’t happened in many years. While your father is talking to Joel about his work day, you get up and wander over to the fridge to grab a beer, grateful for the hoppy refreshment as it hits your taste buds. Liquor would be better, but this will do for now. You watch your parents and Joel talk, not even being aware of you having stepped away from the table. You finish the rest of the beer and put the empty bottle aside, then grab a new one from the fridge to take back to the table. 
The drink helps you feel a little more comfortable in your own skin, tune out the chatter that you’re not too interested in, and rather take advantage of the opportunity to watch Joel. Perhaps his mouth and hands in particular, as you imagine them on you, feeling that stubble against your own decidedly softer skin; your cheek, or between your thighs, or elsewhere. He doesn’t seem too aware of your eyes on him, talking with your mom about some pergola or something. 
Meanwhile, your father does seem to be paying attention to you, which almost catches you by surprise. But unsurprisingly it takes just a couple of moments until he’s irritating you again. “Were you able to stop by at the DMV to get your license sorted out?”
“No, I haven’t. I’ll get it done, just let it go - okay?,” you sigh, annoyed that he’s bringing it up for the fourth time in a few weeks. “A rideshare to the nearest one is just so expensive. If I could just use mom’s car…”
Your mom pauses her conversation with Joel as she shakes her head. “Without a license? I don’t think so,” she says resolutely. “You’d better figure it out, because I don’t have any time soon to take you over there.”
“Now there’s a shocker,” you mutter to yourself, shaking your head when your father’s voice cuts sharp as he asks if there’s a problem. “No, there’s no problem. I’ll take the damn Uber, if I can….”
“I can take you. Tomorrow afternoon.” Joel’s voice barely interrupts you as he doesn’t lift his eyes from his plate, spearing a little cherry tomato with his fork. “Will that make you stop whining? Need to stop at Home Depot after, though.”
The comment thrills you unexpectedly, though that is tempered a lot by the grin you see on your father’s face, no doubt because of the whining comment Joel made. Asshole. “Can’t make any promises,” you respond breezily. “I’m good company in the car though, as long as I control the aux.”
Joel almost snorts at that, shaking his head. “Over my dead body, kiddo.”
*Kiddo*. It stings, you realize, as you hold on tight to your second beer that’s already half empty, your fingers pressing too hard on the chilly glass. You thought that you two had moved past that now - that being around him, and admittedly dropping some not so subtle cues, would have made it clear to him that you are anything but a kid. 
“Well, you’re getting up there in age just like he is,” you say much too casually, leaning back in your chair as you take a long drink of your beer while you nod at your father. “So maybe that won’t be that long from now?”
Your mom hisses your name immediately, looking mortified, but Joel isn’t bothered one bit as he continues to eat his dinner. Meanwhile your dad remains quiet, but the look on his face speaks volumes. You give him a challenging look in return, then finish your beer as you get up from the table again. “Who else wants another drink?”
“I think you’ve had enough for now.” Your father speaks as he takes off his glasses, rubbing his temple as if he feels a headache coming on. “Just finish your food.” You consider ignoring his comment or pushing back some more, but then you get momentarily distracted as the kitchen lights seem to flicker.
“I’m headed out tomorrow at 10 am,” Joel suddenly interrupts your thoughts, now finally looking at you as he reaches for his glass of water. “Don’t be late.”
“For you? Never.” You manage to not bat your lashes as you sit back down and continue your dinner, but your dad is still looking not too amused. He’s easy to ignore though, and as you chew you listen with half an ear to what your mom is saying about some party. It’s not long before your eyes wander back to Joel again, wondering what you could say or do that actually would get under his skin. 
He’s sitting right across from you, and without thinking too much about it, you slip your right foot out of your sandal, slouching down a little in your chair. Your heart is racing as you try to calculate the odds of getting it right, but then in an opportune moment when your dad leans over to Joel to talk to him about something, you extend your leg under the table and check whether you can reach Joel’s leg with your bare foot.
When Joel pauses his conversation for a moment, seemingly to gather his words, you know that he most definitely feels your foot against his calf. His eyes flash to you for a quick second, and you innocently smile at him as you slowly run your foot up a little higher, to his knee, while considering how far you could slide it against his thigh without it being noticeable to anyone else.
Meanwhile your dad reaches for the bread basket between him and Joel, taking out a dinner roll, and your heart beats faster when you feel Joel’s leg twitch against your foot. “Could I have the bread basket, please?”, you ask your dad, who nods as he picks it up and hands it to you. 
You take the basket from him, picking one of the rolls - and as your dad looks over at your mom who is telling him something, you bring your glance back to Joel. He’s staring right at you now as you’re still rubbing your foot against the inside of his calf, and you see his throat work as he swallows.
“Thank you, Daddy.” 
Joel immediately flushes and clears his throat, shifting his chair back a little so your foot can’t reach him anymore, and he reaches for his water so fast that he almost knocks the glass over. You can’t help but giggle, sinking your teeth into the soft bread as you’re feeling pleased - so the man *does* have a weak spot. It just takes the right approach to hit it.
“Think I’m gonna go clean up from work,” he announces as he pushes his nearly empty plate back, giving your mom an apologetic look. “Been a long day. The food was so good, though.”
“The food’s wonderful.” Your dad nods in agreement as he takes the last bite of his bread. “Did you still want to hit up the gym?”, he asks Joel as he reaches for their plates as he gets up from the table. “I’ve got about an hour now before I need to head out again.”
You dig your nails deep into the palm of your hand under the table as you watch the men leave the room, your eyes following Joel’s every step. Fuck, he’s hard. Or at least has a semi in those jeans. It makes you feel giddy and accomplished, and you can’t wait to tell your friend about this latest development.
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next: part 4 >
series masterlist | main masterlist
🚨 Follow @longlongtime-updates to be updated when the next part drops!
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bunnwich · 7 months ago
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It's Supposed to Be Fun
(a letter to my friends in the twst fandom)
I've been wanting to make this post for a while and these thoughts may seem scattered but I’m gonna try to express them. 
Lately, I have seen many friends and moots that either are leaving the fandom or feel guilty over not having posted in a while or losing interest in twst. On the other side, I also have friends being harassed.
This a reminder to remember why you joined this community to begin with. I know that keeping up with the fast-moving pace of fandom and comparing ourselves to others, can skew our perspective on these things.
It’s supposed to be fun. 
Why do we post art or write? Sure, partly for recognition, there's no denying that. But, why do we create, I mean really? For enjoyment. Not for others, not to be “popular” FOR JOY.
So, whether you’re dealing with people critiquing you or feeling guilty about not creating. My question is this: Why waste so much of your time on something that makes you miserable?
Did it stop being fun? Why? Haters? Loss of interest?
To my friends who feel guilty for not creating and not sure if they lost interest in twst: 
Don’t feel guilty. At one time, the creation of your twst content was natural. It's what you did for fun with friends or for yourself. Revisit that mindset and think - if creating twst content now will bring that same joy it did before.
If the answer is no, then maybe it’s time to pivot. It’s okay for interests to fade. It doesn’t mean that time, memories, or the friends you made are lost. Connect with your friends, we will understand! We still love you! It's not a race there's no time limit, just pick up were you want to. Draw fanart of old events or OCs.
To my friends who have been harassed: 
I say this with sincerity…. People who harass others over fictional characters are fucking losers.
Like… There’s no other eloquent way to encapsulate it. I’m starting to not care for the reason anymore - If you harass or be shady to others over a ship or fictional character. CONGRATS! YOU ARE A LOSER.
We all join fandoms as a hobby, for fun. We’re all just kids in the sandbox playing pretend again… and if you are the type of person to go up just to “kick the doll out of someone’s hand" or make commentary on how “their way of playing is wrong." You’re a loser. I have a life outside of twst, we all do. Someone saying my ship is wrong or cringe is just so laughable to me. We have to make fun of these people more for being so goddamn lame.
Imagine being so unhappy that when you see someone having fun you HAVE to comment on it. By all means, if it gets you through the day...talk shit to close friends or even post about it on your own blog. (THAT WAS ALWAYS ALLOWED.) Don't bother creators directly. Don't be a loser. I sure see tolerance leave people’s bodies when they see a fandom opinion they don't like. (And this is coming from someone who has lots of opinions on these things! But that's why I always put the disclaimers that, hey this is just MY opinion.)
Discussion is one thing, unhelpful comments are another. We shouldn’t give these people the time of day. Curate your online space. Yes, when you post things online you are subjecting yourself to scrutiny. But, we as creators need to stop letting these people have power over us. Period. We do this for free!! FOR FUN. The best thing you can do is create shamelessly.
Delete weird replies, block whoever you need to do to rid yourself of these people who have nothing better to do. Keep your peace. It’s supposed to be for fun. You don’t owe anyone a response.
The twst fandom is like a little family to me and I guess I feel protective over the people in it?  I have made many friends and memories because I joined it. And even dispite a handful of the negative experiences (AKA: A couple of “losers" that I’ve had to deal with.) I’ll always look fondly back on this time.
The key for me has always been to just…create for myself. I originally made bunnwich for me and one friend to make fun little arts about our Yuu’s and now I get to have lots of friends to share it with! I’ve transitioned from an OC blog to probably more of an Oc x Canon blog…but I don’t care tbh. I just…draw what I feel like. I know there are people who probably dislike me for that or feel strange about my content and that’s fine. I’m still gonna keep drawing it, loser.  
And I just want you guys to do the same, twst or not.
I can’t forget that all my followers and friends are a bonus, if I had never joined tumblr I’d still be drawing the silly shit I draw in peace. And while yes, I do want to grow as an artist and sell more merch and keep growing... I can’t forget my initial excitement for this silly little game. I like to talk about it. I like to write about it. It inspires me.
It’s supposed to be fun. Please remember that. I know it can be discouraging to have others being shitty to you. Or going through a creative drought. But, try not to let this stop you from creating what you love.
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anachronistic-falsehood · 1 year ago
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i. don’t really know what to think about the whole forever situation. because i have seen people say “he’s addressed this a long time ago so why are we bringing it up” but i haven’t seen WHERE he’s addressed it in the past. nary a tweet or clip of anywhere he may have talked about it, but i would love to see an older clip of him talking about this if possible
I’ve seen people say “his tweets and messages were translated in bad faith to give english speakers a bad perception” which. ok yeah understandable but if that’s the case i still don’t know what exactly the situation is or how serious it is
“she was 13” “she was 15” OK WHICH IS IT!!! both are bad but one is still significantly grosser than the other and i don’t know which is true!! or are there multiple girls!!! i don’t know!!!
“he met a fan for flirtatious/sexual reasons” “he met a fan for normal content creator reasons” WHICH IS IT!!!! I DON’T KNOW!!! i guess only he and the fan would know what the intent was when they met, and even then i don’t know if they met alone or if it was a normal ass fan meetup with multiple other people there
“it’s been 7-8 years, he’s changed” ok. now we are making some sense. he has not exhibited this kind of behaviour in years it seems and he appears to be the kind of person who would not say or do these things now. no one is irredeemable and no one is beyond change. still, it is important for some people to know. many fans would rather know this and make the educated choice on whether to support him or not than continue to support him in blind blissful ignorance. even though it’s stressing me out and i’m still clueless about a lot of it, i’m glad i know anyway.
“what about the past transphobia and the ableism and the and the and the-” That Is Not Relevant To This Conversation. this is a different situation. he has apologized for his past opinions and everyone has had ample time to come to terms with them and make peace with supporting him despite his past beliefs.
“he’s deleting past tweets” i mean if someone was digging around my account for things i’ve said that i no longer stand by, i would delete shit too. sure as hell doesn’t make him look innocent but i would do the same. i HAVE done the same, albeit for much more minor and trivial reasons for posts i made when i was like 15, but still
“he apologized and said he’s getting a lawyer!! no guilty person would do that!!” your content creator is not an angel. guilty people take their accusers to court all the time and get away with it. also, it is up to everyone individually to decide whether to believe him or not. you cannot push others to believe your side but you can give context to some things
there’s nuance to this like there is with everything, and people are jumping to conclusions saying either “he’s an innocent little lamb how dare you!” or “he should be deplatformed and we should never speak of him again!” i will never fault anyone for supporting the alleged victim. if your decision is to stop watching him immediately or even stop supporting the qsmp itself, no one should ever fault you for that. it is ultimately up to you to make that decision. the situation is not clear enough for me to make a decision, so i will withhold judgement for now. i will not doompost about it, and i will not call out people for defending or dropping him.
but for the love of god, just. everybody keep your cool. especially english speakers, we may not have full proper translations for the messages and tweets. take a deep breath. if you want to find more info to form an opinion now and spread information that people don’t already have, go ahead. if you want to step back and not think about it for now, go ahead. there is no shame in taking a step back and thinking about other things. you are not morally obligated to be invested in this situation. you are not morally obligated to drop him immediately and you are also not morally obligated to keep supporting him just because he’s friends with your favs. stick to your gut and do what you feel is right. you will be okay. this is not the end of the world.
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I can't sleep, so have a ramble. The newest Eminem project is maybe the easiest bit of media to understand amd I'm sick of people saying Em is transphobic or going full Dace Chappell mode or whatever. The whole album is Eminem saying "I hate the slim shady persona, please stop asking me to bring him back. Do you see how corny it would be?"
And on a deeper level, it's Eminem reckoning with who he could have been if he kept up the charecter, what kind of person he would have been. It's a reflection on the bad shit he has done and an apology and acceptance of those actions as his own, even if he put them under the slim shady charecter.
This is especially true in lines like "saw you cracking a smile, and relapsed into my old ways". He got pissed off after Revival was panned, and started going in on everyone. He realised that he was becoming shady again and that scared him, so he made this album. Past guilty conscience 2, he doesn't mention trans people once, except tp talk about his fucking trans child who he supports.
He at no point actually believes in being cancelled or that Gen Z is going to attack him. He's making fun of the people that think that, that say "gen z is too soft". He hates those people, and so do I.
Shady is not like, literally another person, but also he is in this story. Like if you just listen to the song "My Darling" from Relapse, then you'll see that Eminem has long since had this sorta... Possession scenario where slim is "a bottle of hair bleach and vodka". He's just a coping mechanism that got out of hand and he acknowledges that.
And to everyone saying "oh but his raps are corny!" Yes. Yes they are. Eminem has always been corny, that's his whole thing. Like being mad that Dolly Parton makes country music like? At no point was Eminem not corny, you just brought different energy back then because you were corny. Listen to any of his early work. "Beat up foghorn leghorn with an acorn". That's corny as hell, if you don't like corny rap, that's okay, but don't say it's shit bc you don't like it.
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grxmreaperx · 1 year ago
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Professor Hoffman
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Pairing: (professor!) Mark Hoffman x (f!) reader
Word count: 3.1k (oops)
Warnings: 18+!! this is absolute filth. Daddy kink, choking, oral (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), dirty talk, p in v penetration, creampie, age gap (everyone is over 18!!), praise/degradation. Mark being a bastard. I’m so sorry
Summary: You weren’t expecting much from your criminology class. But when you see your professor for the first time, you realize the class may be much more interesting than you were expecting.
I went so overboard with this. I do not know where this came from. I apologize for my actions. Also, all of my knowledge comes from Jim Can’t Swim and Explore With Us interrogation analysis videos, so don’t come for me if some of the criminology stuff is wrong!!
You walked into the lecture hall, bag digging into your shoulder after a long day, trying to find a seat. You sighed. Almost every seat was full, people congregating in the back. You set yourself down in the second row from the front, one of the few empty seats.
You pulled your laptop out of your bag, trying to keep yourself awake. This was your last class of the day and all you could think about was getting back to your apartment and having a nice dinner.
You stifled a yawn, eyes unfocused on your screen.
“Welcome, everyone.”
The deep voice jolted you from your haze, drawing your eyes up from your computer, and onto him.
You felt a jolt run through your body as you took him in. Dark hair neatly pushed back, full lips, chest straining at his suit.
“I’m Professor Hoffman. I’ll be your criminology instructor this semester.”
Shit, maybe you weren’t so ready to go home anymore.
--
That was the one class you didn’t find yourself dreading. Your other psychology and criminal justice classes were a bore, lecturers talking monotonously for an hour and twenty minutes as you tried desperately to stay awake. Professor Hoffman’s class was actually interesting, it challenged you, made you think. He didn’t force you all to listen to him talk the entire time, even if you wouldn’t have minded hearing that voice for hours on end. He had been a detective before switching to teaching a few years back, so he played interrogation tapes, having you all watch the body language, the word choice, the facial expressions of the suspect.
And it was nice to have something pretty to look at while he taught.
You were a bit embarrassed by how many times he had caught you staring at him. You had never looked at a professor as anything more than a teacher, a mentor, before now. But during his lecture, you found your mind drifting. What his voice would sound like in your ear, how his hands would feel roaming over you, the noises he would make.
You had had your fair share of adventures in college, going out with your friends and ending up in someone’s bed every once in a while. But none of them had been anything to brag about; frat boys only in it for themselves, guys who had no idea what they were doing, or didn’t know how to make it last.
You needed something more, something satisfying.
“So, tell me, do you think this suspect was guilty or not guilty? And tell me why.”
His voice shook you out of your daydream, bringing you back to your reality. Your eyes scanned over the screen, trying to remember bits and pieces of the interrogation you were supposed to have been watching.
You raised your hand; as much as you hated it, you wanted to impress the man. You wanted to show him that you were smart, that you knew what you were talking about. And that you were paying attention, not just staring at him the entire time.
He nodded towards you, telling you to go ahead. “Not guilty. He got angry when you accused him, which is a very typical response from someone who is being falsely accused. And he didn’t use any hedge words when he was talking, which would be unusual for a guilty person. And there’s no obvious motive.”
Your professor smirked, nodding along as you answered. “Very good. That’s exactly right. Another clue to tell you this was…”
You zoned out, trying to contain yourself at his praise.
--
He scolded himself, his gaze continuously falling onto you throughout every class.
He had left the police department a couple years ago, looking for a job with shorter hours, more time to relax, less frustration.
But now he had a different kind of frustration.
Every class, there you were. Sitting right in front of him, eyes watching him intently as he spoke. He saw the way your face changed every time he walked in the room, your tired face lighting up a bit. He saw the way your gaze lingered on him when you were supposed to be working on an assignment, or watching one of the interviews you were meant to be dissecting.
He noticed your attempts to impress him, always eager to answer his questions. You were always there early, even when others began to slowly fade out, showing up late or not showing up at all.
And, he had to admit, it was working. You were smart, and he could see how interested you were in this topic, even if you seemed to be a bit more interested in him than the class. He knew you’d make a great detective one day; your understanding of others’ minds would be a great asset to the force.
He almost wished he hadn’t left the department. He would give anything to still be in his position when you were first starting out in the field, eager to learn, to impress, to please. He would love for you to train under him, your frustration growing as he teased you, giving you smaller and smaller tasks, making you prove yourself.
He pulled himself away from his thoughts, shuffling his notes together before the start of class.
“Alright everyone, I’ve posted your grades for your last assignment. Some of you did very well, others seem to be a bit distracted in this course.” He purposefully shifted his gaze, meeting your eyes as he spoke this last part.
He suppressed a smirk as he saw your face flush.
“Now, the rational choice theory…”
--
“I really don’t know what I’m doing wrong in that class,” you sighed.
Your friend nodded. “I mean, he is a pretty tough grader. I don’t think I’ve gotten above a C on anything.”
“Yeah, but I feel like my work is good! Some of it he seems to really like, and then others he’s super harsh. But I thought this last paper was really good!”
“Maybe you should go talk to him about it. Maybe he could help you out, tell you what you’re doing wrong.”
“Yeah, I guess. I probably should. I really like this class; I want to do well in it.”
Your friend smirked. “Do you like the class, or do you like the hot professor?”
You lightly slapped their arm. “Shut up, I don’t think he’s hot.”
They laughed. “Of course you do! I see you staring at him all the time! It’s ok: he is pretty hot.”
You felt your face heating up. “Ok, maybe I think he’s kinda hot, but I like the class too!”
“I hear you.”
--
As class ended the next day, you took a breath. You shouldn’t be this nervous to talk to him, he was your professor, of course he would be willing to help you. You lingered in your seat for a few moments, taking longer than usual to stuff your laptop back in your bag. As people filed out of the room, you carefully approached his desk.
“Professor Hoffman?”
He looked up, smiling slightly as he met your eyes. “Yes, what can I do for you?”
“I was hoping that maybe you had time to talk to me about my last paper? I was wondering if you could tell me what I did wrong, or what I could improve next time?”
He regarded you for a moment and you couldn’t help but shift a bit under his gaze.
“Of course. I have another class in a few minutes, but I have time to meet tomorrow, if you’d like.”
You nodded, thanking him as he gave you a time and his office number. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
He smirked. “See you then. Don’t be late.”
--
“What are you all dressed up for?” your friend asked.
“What? I’m not dressed up. Do I look dressed up?”
“I mean, maybe not dressed up, but you look nice. What’s the occasion?”
“Nothing, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
They smiled. “Oh! Now I remember. You have your meeting with the hot professor today! That’s why you dressed so cute.”
“I did not!”
“I don’t believe you. You better hurry up, don’t you have to be there in a few minutes?”
You looked at your phone, cursing under your breath. They were right, you only had a couple minutes before your meeting. You sped up your pace, telling your friend you’d see them later as they walked to their class building.
“You better tell me all about it! Don’t do anything inappropriate, young lady!”
You hurried into the brick building that held Professor Hoffman’s office, trying to find the room number he had given you. Your eyes scanned the plaques next to each door, looking for the one engraved with his name. When you finally found it, the door was shut. You knocked softly, waiting patiently until you heard a voice tell you to come in.
You pushed the door open, examining his office as you entered. One wall was lined with bookshelves, filled with books on psychology, criminal justice, and what looked like case files. His desk sat in front of the window, his back to the light streaming in through the glass. He sat, leaned back in his desk chair, shirt slightly unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“Take a seat,” he said, motioning to the chair in front of his desk. You quickly complied, smoothing your skirt as you sat down.
--
He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you when you walked into his office, closing the door behind you. He should have punished you right then for testing him like that: all dressed up for him, pretty skirt cutting off just above your knees, shirt lower cut than he had ever seen you wearing in class.
“So,” he started, trying to regain his composure. “You wanted to talk to me about your paper?”
You nodded. “Yes, sir.” Fuck. “I was wondering if you could tell me what I could have done better with this assignment. I thought I did really well on it, until I got my grade back.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, it was very well-written. And you have the concepts down. But your job was to analyze the video, not just repeat what I had said in class. Even if you put it a bit more eloquently than I did.” He smiled. “I almost get the feeling that you’re a bit…distracted in my class.
He watched as you became flustered, a smile still on his lips. “Well, professor, I just – I just have a lot on my mind. Sometimes it wanders, you know?” Your eyes darted around, staring at your hands, your bag on the floor, the surface of his desk.
He nodded. “Wanders to what?”
He couldn’t help the smug look on his face as you struggled to answer. He knew what your mind wandered to, he could see it on your face when you were supposed to be paying attention to his lectures. He saw the blush on your face, the way your pupils were blown. And he knew exactly where your mind was wandering to.
“Well, you know, to other things I have to do.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Like me?”
Your eyes widened. “What?”
“You heard me. I see the way you stare at me, the look on your face when I catch you. You think I have no idea what you think about when you’re in my class? You think I can’t read you like a book, sweetheart?”
He tilted his head, watching as you took in his words. You looked like a deer in headlights, knowing he had figured out your secret. He saw the way your body stiffened at the pet name, your legs pressing together.
“I’ll tell you what,” he started, against his better judgement. “You really want to improve your grade?”
You nodded. He told himself to stop, to kick you out of his office before he put his career in jeopardy. But, God, the look on your face, so eager to hear what he had to say, pretty face flushed with embarrassment, legs squeezed together so tight he thought you might explode.
“Cmere,” he said in a low voice.
You slowly stood, making your way around his desk to stand in front of him. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he growled. “Where does your mind wander to during my class? I want to hear you tell me.”
“To you,” you said softly.
“Cmon, baby, you can do better than that.” He knew he was being a dick, he saw how flustered you were, how you were trying to work up the courage to answer his question. And he loved it.
“To you – to you…”
“To me fucking you?” he helped.
“Yes.” Your eyes were fixed on your hands.
“Look at me and say it.”
Your eyes met his. “My mind wanders to – to you fucking me.”
“Much better. Now, you really want to improve your grade, sweetheart?”
You nodded and he saw the eagerness in your eyes, waiting for him to tell you what to do.
“Then get on your fuckin’ knees.”
He smiled, chuckling as you quickly dropped to your knees in front of his chair, hands getting to work on his belt. He watched your eyes widen as you released him from his dress pants and couldn’t help the feeling of pride that swelled in his chest.
“Something wrong, baby?” he asked, cocky smile spreading across his face. You shook your head. “Then go on.”
He let out a deep groan as you took him into your mouth, placing a hand on the back of your head. He wrapped his hand in your hair, guiding you as his dick hit the back of your throat. “Such a good girl.” He leaned his head back against the chair, savoring the feeling of your head bobbing on his cock.
His looked back down at you, eyes darkening as he saw how eagerly you sucked him off, spit coating your lips, tears welling in your eyes every time you took him down your throat. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little distracted during classes too, picturing you just like this.
He pulled your head back by your hair until you were looking up at him. “Get up here, sweetheart,” he said, motioning to his lap.
You shakily got to your feet before straddling his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. He reached under your skirt, hands gripping your ass. He watched as you began to grind your clothed core on his dick, admiring the desperate look on your face.
“What’s the matter, baby?” he asked, hand slowly wrapping around your throat. “So desperate for me. No one been taking care of this pussy?”
You frantically shook your head, grinding down harder.
“Poor little slut. Take them off. I’ll take good care of you, sweetheart.”
You shifted on his lap, pulling your underwear down your legs and tossing them to the side. He slowly ran a finger through your folds, letting out a low hum. “God, baby, this all for me?” Your answer was cut off by him pushing two fingers inside of you, your words turning to a moan. He slowly pumped his fingers, curling them inside you while your ground down on his hand.
“Poor baby, those college boys don’t know how to make you feel good? You’re so fuckin’ desperate.” You quickly shook your head, too lost in the feeling of him working you to form words. You whined when he pulled his fingers out.
He lined himself up at your entrance, the other hand wrapping around your waist, holding you steady. “Go on, baby. Show me how needy you are.”
You slowly slid yourself down onto his cock, mouth falling open as he stretched you out. His head fell back onto his chair, eyes screwing shut, before quickly opening them again, taking in the sight of you full of his dick. He placed his hands on your hips, keeping you steady as you began to bounce. You quickly picked up the pace, grinding yourself down on him, eyes clouded from pleasure.
Your moans filled his ears, eyes roaming your body as you fucked yourself on his cock.
“God, baby, you look so fuckin’ pretty. Such a good little whore for me, hmm?”
“Yes, yes, just for you, Daddy!” you moaned, before quickly catching yourself. He saw your eyes widen, realizing what you had just said.
He wrapped his strong arm around your waist, standing from his chair, still buried deep inside you, before setting you on his desk. He wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing slightly and pushing your back down onto the surface. “Say it again.”
“I’m all yours, Daddy,” you said softly.
“That’s fuckin’ right baby.” He set a fast pace, roughly fucking into you, one hand still around your throat, the other gripping your hip so hard he knew it would probably leave marks.
He let out a groan at the sight of you underneath him, skirt bunched around your waist, mouth hanging open, hands gripping his arms. He watched your back arch off the table, squeezing your eyes shut.
He froze, abruptly stopping his thrusts. “Look at me when you cum on my dick, baby. Fuckin’ look at me or I’ll stop again. Understand?”
“Yes sir,” you cried, eyes locked on his.
“Much better.” His fingers found their way to your clit as he continued burying himself in you. “Cum for me baby, show me how much you love my cock.”
Your nails dug into his arm as your legs shook around him, moaning loudly as you reached your high. He felt his own end coming on. He leaned down, his face inches from yours. “Tell me sweetheart, where do you want me to cum?”
“Inside…” was all you could manage, still overcome with pleasure.
He smiled. “You want me to fill you up, baby?” You nodded, begging him to fill you.
His pace faltered as he came, gripping your hips tightly. He let go of you, placing his hands on his desk, catching his breath. He slowly pulled out of you, pulling his pants back up and tossing you your underwear. You carefully sat up, legs still shaking slightly.
He settled himself back in his chair, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. He smirked at you, sitting on his desk, completely undone.
“I suppose I can raise your grade on that paper,” he started. “But I do think we should have weekly tutoring sessions. You obviously need some more help with this.” He smirked at you. “Does that sound good to you?”
You never agreed to something faster in your life.
--
I really liked writing this, if y’all like it I may give you a part 2👀
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blushweddinggowns · 1 year ago
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It had started as a rough few weeks. A rough few weeks that turned into a rough few months. It was weird, because in all honesty when it came to social standings, Will was doing a lot better here than he ever did in Hawkins. There were no Zombie Boy stories following him here, and he even managed to get a few girls to have a crush on him. He…still wasn’t quite clear how that worked out and he really wasn’t a fan of it. But they were also the only people he could talk to at school. He was way too paranoid of getting close to any guys. God forbid he got another crush on a friend, having none of them just seemed like the better course of action. 
It didn’t help that Mike had basically stopped acknowledging that he existed after they moved. He didn’t write to him, he didn’t call him, and it felt like the only time he heard his voice was when he politely asked for El over the phone. And it hurt. It hurt a lot. Especially when he still put in so much effort to get ahold of El all the time. He’d resent her for it if he could, but the only one who was having a worse time than him with the move was her. Maybe Mike was a shitty friend to him, but at least she had someone to talk to. 
But whatever. Lucas and Dustin cared, and so did Eddie and Steve. And when Jonathan wasn’t busy being high as hell, he had him too. Even Max called him more often than Mike did. Even when she was just trying to get ahold of El she’d take the time to ask him how he was, a courtesy that his best friend from freaking kindergarten couldn’t even offer anymore. 
So maybe Will didn’t have many friends in California yet, but he didn’t feel very lonely. 
Just a little heartbroken. 
But he could get past it. Especially when some of his favorite people were only one phone call away. Sometimes it made him feel a little guilty, that Steve and Eddie were his go to for talking about his problems. Especially since Jonathan was always trying to get him to open up. Even when he was zoinked out of his gourd he never failed to ask Will how his day was. Though…he did have a hard time following the plot when Will told him. 
But that didn’t change the fact that Jonathan always wanted to help. But what could Will say? I’m depressed because I’m in love with my best friend who doesn’t care about me? And oh yeah, I’m gay? Yeah, no. That wasn’t going to happen. If Jonathan of all people hated him for that…he’s not sure he could recover. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t think about it.
It was kind of pathetic, but he’d fantasize about it sometimes. Coming out to his family, everyone smiling and saying they’d love him anyway, no matter what. And if he was being honest with himself, it was technically possible, right? His brother had never said a bad word about Steve and Eddie. His mom never failed to shut the homophobic crap down when his crappy sperm donor had still been around. But it was different when it was your own kid, right? Will wasn’t quite sure. But he did know that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. 
So he called who he always did when he had a problem. It only took a few rings before someone was picking up, Steve’s familiar voice on the other end, “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me,” Will sighed, flopping face first into his bed, the phone pressed to his ear. 
He could hear the smile in Steve’s voice, “Hey kiddo, what’s up?”
God, he was such a dad. Will wouldn’t be shocked if he started wearing socks with sandals by the time he hit twenty-three. He went straight to the point, “Do you think that living happily ever after is like a real thing? For people like us?”
Steve laughed, “It better fucking be after all the shit we’ve seen.”
“I don’t mean the Upside Down stuff,” Will sighed, “I mean like…y’know. The gay.”
Steve snorted, “The gay? I’m going to have to tell Eddie that one.”
Will rolled his eyes at the redundant statement. He had learned a long time ago that telling Steve something meant telling Eddie something, and vice versa. He sighed a tiny smile on his face, “Oh what, like he’s not already next to you listening in?”
“...touché.” 
Will laughed, turning over to stare at the ceiling, “I’m serious though. Like…is it even possible? It’s not like everyone gets to magically find their soulmate at eight.”
“Is that such a bad thing though?” Steve asked, “Because no offense dude but honestly? I think you could do a lot better than Mike-”
“Be nice,” Will interrupted, torn between being defensive for Mike’s sake and amused at Steve never failing to find a way to come at him.
“I will when he starts being nice to me.”
“Well that’s just not going to happen,” Will laughed, “I’m starting to think Eddie’s right to call you a brat.”
Steve gasped, loud and scandalized. He’d been hanging out with Robin too much, “Me?! Never!”
Will could barely hear it over the receiver, but he could hear Eddie’s faint voice coming through, Yes he is!
And it was making him laugh even harder. Will missed this, so much. He missed having a place where he could just say whatever he wanted, with no worries. Even now he was looking over his shoulder, anxious at the chance that his mom or a sibling could come bursting in at any moment to catch him in the act of being comfortable. It was a confusing and weird feeling, and probably a little unfair to assume they’d prefer him to be sad and quiet over happy and queer. But he still did.
But for now he was safe. And he might as well take the chance to speak on all the things he couldn’t with anyone else, “But what if I don’t want to do better than Mike? Like…it’s stupid but do you think that um, I would ever have a chance?”
The answer was a strong no, but sometimes Will just needed a reality check from someone else’s mouth. 
Steve sighed, “I think the odds are pretty low bud. All jokes aside, even if he was playing for our team, I’m not sure if he’s the type who could even accept it. Y’know?”
Will did know, unfortunately. And if he’d never met Eddie and Steve there was a solid chance he’d be that guy. The truth stung a bit, but it was necessary, “I know, I know. But…do you think he would accept me? If he ever found out?”
“He fucking better. Otherwise I’ll-”
Will heard a shuffle on the other end, paired with something that sounded suspiciously like whining before he heard Eddie’s voice, “Will? You there? Sorry about that. I had to take the phone away before he started talking about beating up a child.”
Will grinned, happy to hear Eddie’s voice, “You made the right call. Do you think they’ll ever get along?”
“Not in this lifetime,” Eddie sighed, “And I know Mike’s not perfect, but if he’s okay with us why wouldn’t he be with you?”
“But it’s different when it’s a friend, isn’t it?” Will asked, “I’m not even sure if my mom would accept it, let alone him.”
“Well first of all, you don’t have to tell anyone shit, okay? But I can promise you that Joyce would be fine with it. And so would Jonathan for that matter. And I don’t even know if El is aware of what homophobia even is.”
It all sounded a lot more believable out of Eddie’s mouth than what was going on in his own head. But still… “What if they don’t though? What if I tell them and they kick me out or something? Or make me go to therapy?”
“Okay, on the off, off chance that you tell them and Joyce suddenly became a monster overnight, we’ll go to plan B. Steve and I will drive up there to kidnap you and you can live in Indy with us.”
Will grinned. He could live with that, “Can’t we just make that Plan A?”
“No, because your family loves you, as they should by the way. And this won’t bother them, I swear. Plus, telling them on your own terms is a lot less awkward than getting caught in the act.”
Will didn’t even want to know what Eddie was alluding to with that one. Poor Wayne, “But what if we’re wrong?”
He wanted to believe him, he really did, but stranger things had happened outside of gay people being disowned. 
“Will, listen to me,” Eddie said, his voice confident enough to make Will perk up, “I swear on Steve’s life, okay? There is no way in hell anyone in that house is gonna reject you for this.”
Will blinked, a little shocked at just how much faith he had in his family. More than he did, “Really?”
“Really. Trust me on this man, you’re going to be fine.”
They hung up pretty soon after that, mostly because El started knocking on his door for the phone. The conversation made him feel a bit better, but also…nervous. Could he really tell them? Would it all just work out? Just like that? Will wasn’t so sure. 
He decided against doing it right away despite Eddie’s own confidence. But he did start to drop a few feelers. He started with Jonathan, waiting until he was high enough for him to forget the conversation if it didn’t go well. And that wasn’t a long wait. 
He found him and his new friend sprawled out in his room, Fast Times playing in the background as they both stared into space. Though Will wasn’t quite sure he could count what Argyle was doing as staring. He’s eyes were barely open, and Will was 90 percent sure he was passed out. But that was good for him, now was as good a time as any. 
Jonathan smiled at him as he wandered in, his words kind but slurring, “Hey! What’s up? You never come in here. You wanna watch something or…?”
Will shook his head, his heart aching a little at the way it made his brother frown. Maybe he really had been neglecting him, too caught up in his own head to spend time with the closest thing he had to a Dad. 
It made him feel a little bad, but that wasn’t what he was here for, “No thanks. I just wanted to ask you something.”
“Sure!” Jonathan said, way too excited at the prospect of a simple question, but maybe that was the weed, “What’s up?”
Will shrugged, casually leaning against the door. Or at least he hoped it looked casual, because his heart was beating a mile per minute, “Steve said that his and Eddie’s anniversary is coming up soon. Do you think I should send them something?”
Jonathan tilted his head up to look at him, his eyes bloodshot with a tiny smile on his face, “That’s like…so nice dude. You’re always so nice. How are you so nice?”
“You don’t think it’s weird?” Will pressed, hope fluttering in his chest, “To be, y’know, celebrating them like that?”
Jonathan shook his head, “Nah man. It’s like…romance. Y’know? It’s sweet.”
“Yeah dude, gay guys are cool,” Argyle agreed out of nowhere, his eyes still closed,  “Good for Stu and Eggie. Gay people got like, the best hair.”
Will didn’t really know what to do with that one. But Jonathan was impressed. He jerked his head back to stare at Argyle, his voice in awe, “How’d you know he had good hair? I never told you he had good hair.”
“I bet they both have good hair,” Argyle sighed, “They alway do.”
“Are you like, psychic?” Jonathan asked, like that made any sense at all.
“Shit, you think I could be?”
Will watched as the two of them started to debate the idea, his brow raised. God, weed sure was a hell of a drug. He left them to it after that, deciding to slowly back out of the room. But he was going to chalk it up as a positive. 
preview for the next chapter (kind of) of this fic
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silentghosttimez · 1 year ago
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Since everyone's reading comprehension clearly just went out the window when the person in the Epstein documents asked about Michael Jackson. The girl literally said nothing happened. And to go into more detail, this was before anything about Epstein came to light and when Epstein was still fronting as one of those financial businessmen. MJ was LITERALLY THOROUGHLY investigated and HEAVILY survellienced by the government/FBI for over 2 decades BEFORE and AFTER meeting Epstein, the FBI REALLY wanted MJ gone from the public eye, they even tried to use his childhood photos and some playboy magazines to prove he was guilty. In the 2000s MJ was in conflict with Sony and was going broke, some people(we dont know who they were yet) recommended he go to Epstein to solve financial issues. MJ dipped out and Epstein never got his number, his name literally was not in that black book. Y'all keep bringing up those false accusations with the boys when if you actually look up anything on it, the boys came forward and said their parents lied, and the bed thing was false because MJ's room was huge and had two beds, he had the PARENTS AND THEIR KIDS sleeping in the beds in his room while HE slept in his own GUEST ROOM.
Stop making shit up when the people who wanted so badly for him to do something criminal literally couldn't find anything at all in all those years that he was looked at so closely to the point he was literally having mental breakdowns from being watched every where he went, during every call, and so on.
(edit: To add to this, people constantly lie about his skin and how he felt about himself and his body too. When for one, his autopsy was right there and literally says he suffered from lupus and Vitilogo and his hair was literally the way it was due to it being set on fire in that one Pepsi commercial, there are literally graphic images of just how badly his scalp had been damaged. He never hated himself or his blackness, infact he actively tried to hide his white splotches for as long as he could. He used makeup and skincare stuff that he was unaware had any bleaching affects in the ingredients. He was very open and loud about being proud of his African heritage, he even was crowned in an African village.
I made this post cause I started tweaking because the singular black breadtuber I was watching was reading the Epstein documents and when he got to Michael being mentioned he and everyone in chat suddenly became illiterate and he was talking some shit like "it would seem he really was that guy if those documentaries, court stuff and articles didn't already convince you" like WHAT??? And chat was agreeing and someone was like "the Twitter stans are still gonna find a way to defend him after this" mind you, if you weren't bread dead and believed all that slander, all the court stuff declared and pretty much proved his innocence and later one people including his own friends and family came forward saying they were forced and coerced into lying. Those documentaries that came out and so many of those articles were straight up slanderous because they were damn tabloids, I don't get why people are still trying to use tabloids as proof when they were known for spreading rumors that often were not true in the slightest. This shit actually has me genuinely heated. Like, the breadtuber didn't bother reading the rest and was just like "well that proves it" even though it was stated right below that Epstein did not have his contact. Then there's the dumbasses on Twitter too making this shit worse. You'd think that most people at some point would bother to actually use their brains and seek out as much info as possible instead of taking lies and running with it, especially if they have a platform where they literally should be doing such a thing but nope. The guy was iffy about the star wars guy and whether or not he was actually a contact in Epstein's list but that same grace was not afforded to MJ.
Another edit:Oh and also it's wild MJ's false accusations are always brought and people say Elvis and Prince are better than him meanwhile Elvis and Prince were known pedos and abusers. Like are you fucking kidding me!!!)
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