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zyafics · 6 months ago

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PLAY FAKE | 12

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

You had no choice. Newly orphaned with two acquired guardianship, on the brink of homelessness, you caved into desperation. You started to steal; pick-pocketing unsuspecting tourons and swiping valuables at island parties.

The latter is how you came across Aaron. He saw you stole from one of his clients and struck up a conversation. You thought you would be arrested, or done worse as retribution, but he gave you his number to contact. Said you could call him if you were strapped for some cash. When you learned more about him through JJ—and how Luke owed him money once, leading to a bad dispute that ended in the loss of his job and a black eye—you realized you were dealing with a bad guy.

The consensus was to stay away from Aaron because of his shady conduction of business and excessive use of violence. But you were in a deadlock. No one would offer you a loan because of your bad credit and you were on the cusp of losing your family's legacy. So, you did it.

Now, it's back to bite you in the ass. The reason why loan sharks are dangerous is their exorbitantly high interest rates and lack of regard for the law. If you're unable to pay them back within strict deadlines, they will double the initial amount you owe and go to extreme lengths to threaten friends and family for payback. It's a tactic that works best because you can't turn to the police.

When you finish your anecdote, the atmosphere falls into an eerily silence. You can hear the sound of a pin drop or the soft laughter of your sisters three doors down. You're perched on the end of Rafe's bed while he's leaning against his desk, back pressed against the counter, digesting your words.

Your throat feels dry. It wasn't even a long explanation but something about the way Rafe's watching you, his eyes never straying, and the lack of response afterward. You feel like you're burning under his gaze.

This must be how he felt when you were silent.

"Say something," you urge, voice smaller than intended. His eyes shift and observes the look on your face with an indiscernible expression.

"How much did you borrow?"

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth before answering. "30K."

"Jesus Christ," he mutters under his breath, exhaling sharply. Guilt gnaws at your stomach and your eyes pinch with a wave of sodden emotions. This is one of the reasons why you hesitate to tell him; you don't want him to take your burden as his.

You sigh tightly. "I told you it's bad."

"Does this mean you owe him sixty grand now?"

"No." You shake your head. "I paid back ten."

The numbers still aren't optimal. "So forty then?"

"No," You blurt out, before retracting. "I think. I–I don't know. He hasn't contacted me..." You trail off, not wanting to imagine your debt doubled. If you had paid the required amount, as scripted in your contract, within the due date, you would've been fine. Now, you're in an ambiguous grey zone with no clear direction on where to go next.

"But when he does?"

You look up from your crestfallen gaze to find Rafe's jaw set, his eyes searching your face. Frustration rolls off his strong demeanor, and you take it as a sign of his irritation—at your negligence—that you can't help but feel obligated to alleviate the feeling. "It's fine." You say evenly. "I'll figure it out."

"It's not that." He declares roughly, pinching the bridge of his nose, and exhaling another deep breath. Recognizing his own turbulent emotions are flaring, he doesn't want to take it out on you. "I offered you money. We could've avoided this. At the start of our deal, I offered you—"

You cut him off. "I know."

His expression is sharp. "Then why didn't you take it?"

"I—" You draw in shaky breath, fingers grabbing at the sheets beneath you and tightening them into fists. "I had a plan."

"You had a plan?" Rafe repeats, his voice dripping with disbelief. While he's trying to be patient with you, he can't gauge how your mind works. How it's so set on an independent mode that now—even now—you seem to want to do it all alone. "Does it look like your plan is working?"

This time, it came harsher than he intended, and he wanted to take it back immediately but it was too late. His words were laced with a certain venom that spewed onto you.

But instead of being upset, your own anger erupts.

"Were you going to drop 20K for a couple of fake dates?" You snap, standing from your own seat. You knew what you had done was moronic and you can't take it back but you did have a plan. When Rafe doesn't give you a proper answer, you take his silence as complicity. "Exactly. It would've been stupid on your end and I would've never agreed to such a ridiculous deal. I've already made that mistake once."

He knows you just called him stupid, but Rafe can't stop the rising smile on his lips. In your scorn, you're almost back to your old self.

"Why are you smiling?" You cross your arms, attempting to maintain your level of authority, but his grin broadens. "Stop it."

"I miss you."

Your heart stutters and all your momentum drops. Rafe uses the opportunity to cross the small distance and capture your face in his palm and you lean into his touch, shoulders sagging. You can't believe you're reduced to putty in his hands.

Trying to regain some sense of control, you avert your gaze from his face, and both your palms flatten against his chest. "You're mean, Rafe."

"I'm sorry, baby," he murmurs, running the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone. "What was your plan?"

Part of you didn't want to tell him, to withhold the information, but when he tilts your chin up to meet his eyes, the earnest look behind them shatters that desire. With your heart leaping in your throat, you explain slowly. "When you get Cameron Development, the plan was that I was gonna get a steady income as your regular caterer. Therefore, when payments were due, I would have a reliable source of income."

His breath hitches at the implication behind your words. Rafe's expression hardens. "That's dependent on me getting the company."

You keep his gaze. "I know."

"You based your entire plan on me?"

You can't exactly decipher the tone behind his sentence, and you feel the need to lower your gaze to his chest, grabbing a handful of his shirt. You mumble, "You make it sound like it's stupid."

"It's not—" He grabs your chin again, forcing your gaze up to his. Your eyes are soft and big, while his darkened one scans your face, trying to read your intent. He asks lowly, "You believe in me that much?"

Your voice is gentle when you answer. "Of course."

His heart sings. Rafe can't believe what he's hearing, or rather what he's not. It's the same subtle underlying language he's used to translating; the unspoken. Your entire plan is contingent on his success. That means your trust in him started since the beginning of our arrangement.

He never had someone who had that much faith in him that they would bet it all. It's an indescribable feeling, that's first met with doubt, before transforming into something else. To know someone is always in his corner, always rooting for his success, always believing in him.

Fuck.

He's in love with you.

His eyes stray to your lips and the urge to kiss you overwhelms him. His actions have always been better at demonstrating his emotions than his words ever can. But he resists with a couple of measured breaths. Then, he nods once. "Okay. We'll figure it out."

You're in a dazed state. "We?"

He doesn't want you to think you have to do this all alone. You have him now. "Yeah, but later. I can't focus right now."

Before you can seek clarification, his other hand cradles your cheek and Rafe slams his lips onto yours.

It catches you by surprise and a small moan slips out that Rafe swallows. He wants you. Mind, body, and soul. All of it—the taste of you, the feeling of your skin on his, your words against the column of his throat. He wants to feel you writhing beneath him with pleasure, to save all your best memories for him, and to know that you're completely and unequivocally his.

Rafe parts, just a breath of distance, and whispers against your swollen lips. "God, I miss you."

Your fingers thread through his hair. "I've been here."

His eyes are hungry. "Not what I meant."

He silences any reaction by resuming the kiss, forcing you backward against the bed, and your back lands on the mattress with a soft thump. Rafe hovers over you, his weight pressed comfortably against your body while he kisses you like a starved man.

Even if you don't say it, you missed him too. The feeling of him against you, your heart meeting his at precise beats. When Rafe moves to plant kisses along the curve of your neck, a small whine escapes you. You want to feel his lips on yours, to feel his warmth on your tongue, but he wants to satisfy every inch of you.

His hand starts to caress the hem of your shirt—his shirt—pushing up the fabric to reveal more of your exposed stomach to your bare breasts. With little words spoken, like a coordinated dance, you move enough for Rafe to pull the material completely off of you.

"Shit," he swears, taking a moment to take you in, "I'm never going to get used to this." Then, he descends to your nipples and captures one between his teeth.

You let out another moan, feeling his tongue swirl around your sensitive bud, clashing with the metal barbell. Your legs spread wider, allowing Rafe to slot between your thighs. The boxers he let you borrow are thin, and you feel his hardened erection rocking against your heated core.

Your fingers find the button of his jeans. "Rafe," you whisper, aching with desire. "I need this off."

"Need, huh?" He teases, his hot breath fans against the valley of your breasts and you shiver. "Tell me how much you need me, baby."

He wants to hear it all. Even if it's fake, even if it's just dirty talk spoken during sex. For a brief, fleeting moment, he wants to pretend you need him as much as he needs you.

You draw your hands up to cup either side of his face, forcing him off your tits and tilting his gaze to yours. "Rafe Cameron, I need you inside me. Badly."

Hearing the desperation behind your voice—and his name rolling off your tongue, Rafe removes his clothes and helps you out of yours. Before you have the chance to say anything else, Rafe's fingers are between your folds, spreading them apart, and a sound of satisfaction is heard from the back of his throat. "God, you're wet."

You are. Your arousal coats his digits, and with a slow stroke of his hand, your hips buck into his palm that rest against your clit.

"Rafe," you whine, knowing he's toying with you. His fingers stroke your pussy, but not enough pressure to give rise to your climax. "Inside, please. I'll be so good."

He grins and retracts his hand. When he lines his swollen cock against your entrance, he pauses for a moment. Rafe's eyes connect with yours. "Did you take your pill?"

When Rafe went out this early morning, with your sisters, he went to the pharmacy to pick up some birth control for you. It currently sits on his desk, opened and with one missing tablet. "I did."

"Good, I need to feel all of you."

Without another word, he thrusts into you, causing your back to arch off the mattress.

Rafe doesn't go hard and fast like normal but instead bends forward to capture your lips against his teeth. Your heart is hammering in your chest regardless, the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, the way he fills you—like a puzzle finding its missing piece—makes your head spin.

"Feel so fucking good," he whispers against your heated skin, his hand reaching out to take yours, intertwining with your fingers. "Can't believe I almost lost this."

You can't believe it either, but you couldn't say it. Rafe angles himself where his cock hits right against your cervix, causing your head to tip back and dig into the sheets, moaning wildly at the pleasure. Rafe easily kisses you to swallow the noise of your open mouth, reminding you that your sisters are just a couple of doors over.

You should care. You really should. But you don't. You need him. Closer. Harder. Faster. Your legs wrap around his torso, trapping him. "Need you," you whimper, as each thrust grows more choppy. "Need you so fucking bad, Rafe."

He can't control himself. Removing his constraint of trying to keep it sentimental, to keep it sweet. He loves how desperate you need him. How rough you want it. His pace quickens with the rut of his hips, and you feel the familiar white-hot pleasure searing through your body, climaxing.

"More," you beg, arms wrapped around his neck, fingers clawing against his back muscles. You're removing all the space between him and you, until there's nothing but skin-on-skin. "Please, more."

"Baby, I'll give you everything," he grunts breathily, scraping his teeth against the curve of your neck, hitting a sensitive spot that leaves you whining. "Everything and more if you'd let me."

Something about his words twists inside you and you come hard. Rafe feels you clenching around him, so tight, that it causes him to slow his thrust but the pleasure is unbearable. Easily, he follows after, coming inside you with the familiar hot cum filling you up.

Rafe lands on top of you, careful not to crush you under his weight. You welcome it, nonetheless, liking the way he presses against you. Both your breaths are heavy, clambering to catch up on missing air, and Rafe's still inside you. You like that too.

Your hands are still intertwined, and you're the first to retract from the hold to place your warm palm against the side of his profile, causing his head to lift to meet your gaze. He's settled between the valley of your breasts, his stubble tickling your skin, and you take the moment to lean forward and plant a chaste kiss on his lips.

It feels sentimental. Vulnerable. Almost too real.

"Okay, now get off," you say jokingly, undercutting the tension in the room. Rafe scoffs but listens, rolling off, slipping out of you. The loss of him makes you frown, but you quickly wipe away the expression as you turn on your side, facing him.

Rafe studies you. This time, the sex felt different. More. He'll never say it, in fear of it scaring you away, but he truly never felt as vulnerable as he did moments ago when he was inside you. The memories flooding through him could easily get him hard again, but he tries to distract himself, taking a strand of your hair between his fingers.

You smile softly, noting how mesmerized he is with your hair. Of the color and the texture. It draws you into your thoughts, and you're suddenly reminded of a question that's been stuck in your head for the past twenty-four hours.

You say his name, causing him to stop and look at you. "Why were you with Leila the other night?"

"She called me." He answers truthfully, and before you can question him further, he adds. "I was coming over anyways."

This surprises you. "You were?"

"Couldn't leave you like that."

"You didn't stop me."

"I know, I fucked that up," Rafe admits, eyes scanning over your face, trying to express his sincerity.

You study him, recognizing his truth, but you still have some doubts. Another question about your relationship hangs in the air, and as your lips part, Rafe recognizes the question before you even have the chance to ask.

"We're not broken up."

A sense of relief fills you, but there's also the remnant of heartache.

Your voice is soft. "I said a break."

"We're not doing that either."

You don't know if you can separate from him. You don't know if you want to. But you wanted this extra layer of protection, just in case. "If you were worried, I was still committed to doing all the things you needed with Ward—"

"I don't care." He sharply cuts you off. "If someone asks you who you're with, don't answer that it's complicated. It's not. You're with me, got it?"

He's addressing the moment when Kelce asked if you were in a relationship with Rafe and you answered vaguely. It must've been stuck in his mind. Rafe never set perimeters on who knows the truth behind your little farce, only that his father remains oblivious, but you guess it also extends to the rest of the Kook public.

You don't answer him, not wanting to taint the aftermath of good sex with discussions about logistics and labels. You want to enjoy the fleeting moment, even if it's all you get.

Rafe sees your silence and softens his voice. His hand cups the side of your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "You're mine, you know that?"

You do, but you don't think it's in the way Rafe realizes. The lines are so blurred, you don't know what's real or fake anymore. You don't know if this is a sentiment shared during intimacy or a parade with the public, or if he does want you. Asking for clarification has burned you twice and you'd rather not put yourself in that situation again.

You're silently asking Rafe to tell you more. To give you more words. To speak. If he reveals that he has feelings for you, telling you he wants you—truly wants you—beyond this arrangement, you would be his. All his.

But Rafe's never been the one to willingly talk and reveal things. You have to break an arm and a leg for him to consider giving you the time of day. You rather not break your heart too.

A banging on the locked bedroom door absolutes you from answering him. "Rafey!" Amara screams from the hallway, "You promised you'd see my dress!"

"Dress?" You turn away from the door. "What dress?"

Rafe says nothing, but the small smirk on his face reveals everything. "Rafe. What did you get them?"

You didn't go with your sisters on their early morning excursion with Rafe. You were too tired and were catching up on sleep. When you woke up, they were already back and had been gleefully locked away in the guest bedroom the entire afternoon.

"Don't worry about it."

Rafe slips off the bed and gets redressed while you watch. You admire the planes and ridges of his chest, and when he finishes, he picks your clothes off the floor and throws them at you, telling you to get up too.

You do, and after you're no longer bared and exposed on his king-sized bed, Rafe unlocks the door to reveal an impatient Amara standing behind the door. She's carrying a foreign doll between your arms; something handmade and name-branded, something she definitely didn't have before.

"Rafe..." You warn lowly, but it lacks the critical threat behind its tone. He just grins at your attempt, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of his bedroom. Amara leads you to the living room, where the registration of how much Rafe bought your sisters comes to light.

Scatters of large shopping bags, of various shops and boutiques you never heard the name of, litter across the floor. Leilani is sitting on one of the couches, messing with something in her hands. A phone. Amara’s ruffling through one of the bags, trying to find her dress.

You turn back to Rafe. "You got to be kidding."

"Just because you won't let me buy you nice things doesn't mean you should deprive your sisters of that opportunity," Rafe shrugs, taking a seat on the closest couch, and tugging you along. There's plenty of room on the cushioned chair, but Rafe decides to pull you onto his lap.

You don't even mind; you like your spot on his lap. His arm lazily wraps around your waist while your legs dangle off the side. While Amara recruited Leila along to search for their dresses—because they have that much stuff—Rafe playfully bites your exposed shoulder.

Finally finding their princess gowns and diamond tiaras, Amara grabs Leilani's hand and drags her off to the nearest bathroom. They're giggling while they skip away, bouncing on their feet, behaving the exact opposite of what you expected them to be after a traumatic experience.

"They're happy."

"Of course they are." He scoffs, "We spent the entire morning ransacking every store downtown, buying everything they set their eyes on."

You chuckle softly, and gratitude passes through you. "You didn't have to do that."

"Nah, I had to," Rafe slides you closer. "Got to stay on their good side, you know?"

You shake your head, hiding a smile. The sound of a door opening is heard and you turn to the source of the sound, expecting to see your sisters return with their costumes, but instead find the sudden appearance of Sarah Cameron standing in the middle of the foyer.

"Sarah." Rafe stiffens under you, surprise evident in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"It's my house, Rafe," She says with the roll of her eyes.

"It hasn't been your house since you ran away three months ago," he snaps, a hardness to his words. "Where's your Pogue boyfriend now?"

She ignores her brother, shifting her attention to you. "Who are you?"

You feel like you're caught in the crossfire of their rivalry. Before you get the chance to answer, Rafe cuts in for you.

"She's my girlfriend," Rafe sneers, his arm tightening around your waist. "Which is none of your business."

"Gee, Rafe, really a great welcome home party," Sarah says sarcastically, adjusting the large bag over her shoulders, which you presumed is stuffed with her things. She looks back at you. "You're the Pogue my dad mentioned, right? The one who owns the bar near the docks?"

Something about the Cameron siblings minimizing you to a social class. Nonetheless, you nod. "Cool. Nice to meet you. I'm sorry you have to deal with that one," she points to her brother, who's shooting daggers at his little sister. She ignores the look. "Well, I hope you had a good... shopping trip. I'm going to go unpack."

Before you have a chance to correct her, she walks away, and Rafe shouts after her. "Don't unload too much, just in case you wanna run away again," he reminds, to which Sarah responds with a flip of her middle finger, turning onto the stairwell and disappearing.

You don't know how to deal with a Rafe post-Sarah, especially because you've heard of his long-winded rambles about the golden child. You don't even want to step into it, because what Rafe feels for his younger sister is none of your business. It's his complicated family. You can't fix that.

Instead, you pull him back to Earth, turning his head away and tilting his gaze back onto you. His heated eyes, darkened and full of resentment and anger, soften upon meeting yours, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

Leaning into him, the both of you say nothing, doing nothing, until Amara and Leilani emerge from the dressing room with glamorous princess gowns and a crown over their head. Then, they did a little show for you.

The moments spent with you make him forget about his issue with his sister. With her return and what it means to the company. Who earns in favor with their father.

She’ll be a problem for another day.

Not realizing how true those words will be.

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Navigation — Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

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woodlandwizard77 · 6 months ago

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A Step by Step Guide to Losing Your D**k

I recently wrote a series of messages to my aunt talking about all the steps I need to do to get bottom surgery, a penile inversion vaginoplasty at Mt. Sinai, in the next year or two. Its a long list. And everytime I added something she had a sort of “wow thats rough” reaction, but to me its just the to do list. So I decided to write them all out.

Start transition DONE

Most insurance companies and surgeons require you to have socially transitioned and have done HRT for at least 1 year at the time of operation

For social transition, this was March of 2024

For HRT it will be January of 2025

Get a referral to a surgeon (I am here)

In my case, Mt. Sinai in Manhattan

My Doctor referred me, but Mt. Sinai takes self referrals

Start laser hair removal

Book a consultation (I am here)

Go to laser frequently enough to satisfy surgeon

Convince Mom and Dad to help out DONE

Get 2 letters

Social Worker (1)

PCP's Office

Social Worker (2)

Mt. Sinai

Get a gender affirmation loan through the local credit union

Work two weeks so I can take in pay stubs

Get a letter from anybody (probably my HRT prescriber

Meet with representative and either open a line of credit or take out a loan

Consultation with Mt. Sinai’s team

Wait 3-6 months (I’m here)

Bring letters

My insurance only requires 2, less than Mt. Sinai thinks insurance will need, and Mt. Sinai provides 1 of them. Meaning the other is through IHS Behavioral

Schedule Social Work pre surgical consult appt

Schedule Mental Health and Medical Clearance with Registrar

Go to NYC for 1-2 nights, maybe for each, hopefully just once

Maybe also for Social Work thing

Consult with Surgeon

Wait until I’ve worked about 12 months to get short term disability

Probably summer (ASAP) and when Mom has time off

Do logistics

Book an airbnb, hotel, etc for recovery

Starting a few days after OR date and lasting a little over a month

Within a 90 minute drive of Mt. Sinai

Rural enough that Mom is comfortable to help and can go home if someone else shows up

Probably New Jersey, maybe Hudson Valley

Has at least 1, preferably 2, separate bedrooms

Has 2 beds

Has ADA accessible entry

Has a kitchen

Has a full bath, preferably and a half

Has internet and preferably a TV

Lodging for Mom + Dad/care team while I’m in OR

Probably 5-7 days

Preferably with a 1-2 day buffer period before OR date (included in the 7 day estimate) so I can enjoy the city

Either within a short walk from Mt. Sinai or on the same subway line as Mt. Sinai

RW, 1, or ACE

Someone to help me get from recovery location to Mt. Sinai while not in NYC

Develop and get list of items needed for recovery

Dilator

Pads

Gowns/loose clothing

Comfort food

Coordinate missing 8-9 weeks of work

Take care with who knows what before I leave

Inform HR, department manager, and work friends whats up

Get cleared for surgery and get an OR date

Probably a 6-12 month date from clearance

Get pre clearance testing through PCP or a lab in hometown

Go to NYC for that if need be

Week Before Surgery

No alcohol, no aspirin, NSAIDs, herbal supplements, or fish oil

Consult for other non aspirin blood thinners (which I am not on)

No alcohol for 3 weeks after as well

Tylenol/Acetaminophen is okay

Go downstate

See friends from NYC?

Bring Mom/Dad?

Do something fun in Manhattan

Get a COVID test

Take an anti-bacterial bath

Day before surgery

Breakfast before 9am

Last meal

Drink Golytely bowel solution around noon

Chemically induced diarrhea

Clear fluids only after golytely

(includes coffee, tea, water, broth, some juices)

Nothing goes in the stomach after midnight

Some medication okay with a sip of water

HRT???

Get surgery (a penile inversion vaginoplasty)

1 to 1+½ days

I’ve heard of as long as three

3-5 day hospital stay

Mom and Dad probably stay in Manhattan then

Go to recovery location

Drive with seat reclined

Stay for 4 weeks, pretty much bedridden

Go to follow ups

Dilate

Go home

Continue recovery for another 2-4 weeks at home

Follow up with PCP

Return to life

#mtf girl #transgender #transfem #trans woman #srs #bottom surgery #mtf bottom surgery #transblr #transition journal #queer #lgbtq #lgbtqia #gender affirming care #gender affirming surgery

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dewdrops-whammy-bar · 3 months ago

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Tenth Drink Free- Chapter 2

Chapter 2/10- Star Taglist: @skele-bunny @rain-loves-scallops @dewphomet

{1}

Second chapter let’s fucking goooooo In this one I’m gonna delve more into Dew’s mind, his backstory, and his (frankly awful) mental health. Oh and he’s going to jork his peanits in the shower. Warning for mentions of/allusions to self-harm and self-destructive behavior.

“You seem excited.” Rain remarks, draping himself over the back of the couch with a smug grin. Dew looks up from his cereal to glare at him.

“What gave you that impression?” He asks.

“You’re up before 10, you don’t have anything on your calendar for today, and you’ve got the closing shift tonight. There must be something going on that you’re excited for.” Rain counts off on his fingers. “Ooooh, have you got a date?”

(Read the rest below or on AO3)

“Why do you care?” Dew grumbles. “Looking for gossip? Wondering if I’m still single?”

“Oh, I know you’re still single. I’m just checking in on you. As a friend.” Rain bats his stupidly long eyelashes at Dew. “What’s so important that it got you out of bed at the ungodly hour of 9:24 in the morning?”

Dew knew the reason, he’d spent most of his afternoon and evening the previous day agonizing over Big Sexy like a schoolkid with a crush. He’d analyzed every word of their short conversation and picked apart every glance, trying to glean whatever subtext he could from it. THEN he’d had a particularly exciting dream that woke him up at 6. After about 45 minutes of vigorously jerking it, he’d given it a rest after his third orgasm. At that point he was too awake to go back to sleep so he’d just busied himself with various little tasks until he got hungry enough to venture out.

“Fucked my sleep schedule.” He shrugs.

“At least you fucked something.” Rain remarks, turning back around and plopping himself back on the couch. “I’m getting ready for class.”

“Well good for you. Enjoy your boring-ass lecture, I’ll be here writing music and playing video games.” Dew sniffs.

“Enjoy that, I guess. Hope you like that coffee shop.” Rain snips back.

The words stung a bit, even though they’re nothing Dew hadn’t heard- or thought -before. He’d escaped his small town by bus on his eighteenth birthday with his guitar and just enough money to get by for a few months. By the grace of some god, Rain was looking for a roommate in the area he ended up in.

He’d managed to get a job at Cloudy Skies by borderline begging Cumulus to hire him at his interview. It wasn’t entirely manipulation, he’d had a long day and had been rejected from five jobs in the past week. It was nearing the end of the month and his portion of rent was due soon and he was afraid he’d be forced to sell his beloved guitar. He couldn’t help breaking down when Cumulus asked about his lack of past employment. He still felt guilty for it, even though it was six years ago.

He doesn’t realize how deafening his silence was until Rain’s head pops up from behind the back of the couch again.

“I’m sorry.” The other man says softly. “I didn’t mean-“

“You’re fine.” Dew reassures him. “It’s… well, you know. A bit sore.”

“That’s fair. Sorry for bringing it up.” Rain sighs sheepishly. Dew just nods and returns his attention to his cereal.

He’d like to go to college, get a degree in music or music education, but he’s broke. His job pays enough to cover rent and groceries and medication but that doesn’t leave much left over to pay for any classes. Student loans aren’t much of an option for him either, he doesn’t have much credit and being in debt stresses him out severely. He’s scared he’ll be stuck working customer service his entire life, a starving artist overlooked by everyone.

The texture of soggy cereal in his mouth almost makes him gag. He gets up from the table and puts his bowl in the sink, heading back to his room.

The rest of the morning passes normally once Dew cheers himself up again. He even manages to snag the pedal he was after (granted, for a little more than what he’d limited himself to spend, but whatever). He then celebrates by parking himself on the living room couch with a family sized bag of Takis and a controller and dedicates the next few hours to Resident Evil.

Eventually Dew gets bored and wanders back to his room to get dressed for work. He finds himself actually caring about his outfit for once. He settles on celestial-patterned skinny jeans and a black and red button-up shirt. He’s even compelled to slap on some eyeliner.

He realizes halfway through the eyeliner application process that he might be doing this in case he sees Aether again. He groans, drops his makeup pencil on the desk, and leans back to stare at the ceiling. He was too old to be having a crush. He had more important things to worry about. He wasn’t in high school anymore, putting on his best “pastor’s daughter” act and fluttering his eyelashes at the football team captain. That guy turned out to be an asshole anyway.

“Come on.” Dew grumbles. “You are a grown ass man.” He knows the drill- be infatuated by someone for a few weeks, create an idea of what they’re like in his head, finally push down his self-loathing enough to talk to them, and be disappointed by how they actually are. It’s happened too many times to count. It’d only turned out positively once- with Rain. They’d fucked a few times but decided to stay as friends, much to Dew’s relief.

He picks up the pencil again and finishes his makeup. He almost doesn’t want to see Aether again. He’d just be disappointed and go home and sulk in bed and give Rain another reason to tease him.

But he has bills to pay and a six-stringed child to care for. So he hauls his ass to Cloudy Skies, clocks in, and parks himself behind the register. He just has to get through a 5-hour shift. He can do five hours, that’s like three runthroughs of his favorite playlist.

“Hi D-dew!” Aeon chirps with a wave. Dew gives them a nod and a brief smile as he passes them in the kitchen. Aeon’s the most recent hire, a bright-eyed (well, in only one eye, the other was blind) 20-year-old computer science student working part-time. Dew doesn’t like change so he wasn’t a fan of Aeon to begin with, but they’ve grown on him. They’re like him- a weird kid trying to carve out a safe place in a scary world. He’d taken them under his wing as soon as he’d gotten used to having another person in the shop. He’d almost torn Swiss a new asshole the only time he dared to mock their stutter.

Dew glances around to make sure Cirrus wasn’t around and pops in one of his shitty wireless earbuds. Some music would make his shift a tiny bit more bearable. The opening notes of Toxicity filter through the tinny speaker of the earbud and he sighs with relief.

The afternoon crowd of students begin to flood into the shop and he’s quickly busy making drinks and heating up pastries. Sunny joins him behind the counter to help, thankfully.

He’s so busy with work that he doesn’t notice Aether has entered until he’s staring at that glorious chest with- dear lord, his shirt is unbuttoned an absolutely slutty amount.

”Hey, what can I get fOr you?” Dew’s voice cracks and he inwardly cringes.

”Hi, can I have a, um-“ Aether looks down at his hand. Dew sees smudged purple ink creeping over the side of his palm. “Cold brew with hazelnut syrup? Large, please.”

The same thing as last time- Dew’s own recommendation. His heart flutters. Stop it.

He grabs a large cold cup and jots down the order- and Aether’s name- before punching it into the register. “Yep. Anything else?”

”That’s it, thank you.” Aether smiles and Dew notices his crooked teeth. Fucking adorable. Jesus, stop it. You’re on the clock.

“That’s $5.06.” Dew manages to get out. He takes the cash Aether hands over, along with the punch card. The hole punch today is a star. The heart-shaped hole from last time taunts him.

”I’ll have that right out for you.” He tells Aether as he hands the card over and slides the cup into the queue waiting to be filled. He allows his eyes to linger for a second on Aether’s absolutely perfect ass as he leaves before he turns to serve the next customer.

Between taking orders and making drinks, Dew sneaks glances over at where Aether’s decided to sit. He’s pulled out a laptop covered in stickers and seems to be studying. He’s wearing glasses, much to Dew’s delight (followed by annoyance) and his brows are slightly furrowed. Goddamnit. Out of all the people to have a puppy crush on it had to be a customer. Fucking amazing, thank you brain.

When Dew ventures into the back to take his break, he’s cut off by a very smug-looking Swiss leaning against the counter.

”So.” The man starts. “Sunny told me you have a crush.”

”Well, she’d be wrong. I don’t have crushes.” Dew ducks under his arm and makes a beeline for the back door. How did she know already? What the actual fuck?

”If you say so.” Swiss shrugs. Dew slams the back door before he can continue.

He eyes the brick wall, wondering if it’s worth it to punch. He’s gotta get his annoyance out somehow before he snaps at someone. He settles for kicking it instead. It only relieves his tension a little bit.

Dew digs his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and sparks one up. The acrid smell calms him despite burning his nostrils. He hates the taste and smell of cigarettes but at least it’s something he can rely on to calm him. Vaping just doesn’t bring the same satisfaction- he’s tried. He knows he’s gotta quit but he’d just turn to other bad habits to replace it. He’s convinced himself it’s a form of harm reduction.

Dew grinds his teeth together. He’s thinking about his emotions again. He can’t afford to sink into self-pity again. He needs to pull himself together before he starts crying. He hasn’t cried in years and he’s not about to start now. Especially not at work.

His cig is only half-finished but he stubs it out anyway and heads back inside. A glass of water and a mint rinse the taste out of his mouth and he takes his place at the big industrial sink in the kitchen for dish duty. He’s glad he doesn’t have to interact with customers for the rest of his shift. As much as he’d like to ogle Aether, it’s probably best if he takes his mind off him.

He scrubs pans and mugs and plates and utensils and baking tools until his forearms burn and turns up his music. He estimates his playlist has cycled through about two and a half times by the time Sunny taps him out at the sink.

“Stop spreading gossip about me.” He tells her, a bit harsher than he intended it to be. “Swiss is gonna be on my case for months, you know how he is.”

“Maybe you should get off your ass and ask him out. It’s the big guy, button up shirt, nice piercings, right?” Sunny grins at him and flutters her eyelashes. “He’s hot. Might have to make a move if you don’t.”

Dew sighs. “I don’t have a crush. Yeah, he’s hot, but I’ve got no desire to date him,” He hisses under his breath. The little lovesick voice in his head wails at the thought of Aether going out with someone else.

“Sounds like someone who’s got a crush…” She whispers back and winks at him. “Cir wants you to clear the pastry counter, by the way. Enjoy the view.”

Dew doesn’t dignify that last remark with an answer, only takes his earbuds out and walks over to Cirrus at the other end of the kitchen. She looks up from jotting notes on her clipboard and rubs her eyes.

“Hey Dew. Could you do me a favor and empty out the glass display?” She asks while stifling a yawn. “Sorry. Long day.”

“Understandable. I’ll get right on that.” Dew gives her a two-finger salute, which she returns. His spirits lifted somewhat at the prospect of first dibs on the leftover treats, he trots back out behind the counter.

Aeon sits at the stool behind the register, sneakily tapping away at their phone. Dew bumps them with his shoulder as he passes.

“Careful. Cirrus’ll give you an earful if she sees you on your phone,” he mutters. “I swear, she acts like an overbearing mother sometimes.”

“I know. I w-would have put it away if I’d-d heard her footst-steps.” Aeon shoots him a conspiratorial grin. Dew blinks.

“You’ve memorized her footsteps?” He asks, somewhat amazed. “In three weeks of being here?”

Aeon shrugs. “I’m good at-t patterns.” They turn back down to their phone and resume tapping. Dew sneaks a peek at their screen and sees they’re filling out a Sudoku puzzle with frightening speed. He shrugs and lets them be.

The pastry display is picked clean, only a few crescent rolls and a lone muffin remain. Dew picks them out with tongs and places them on a plate. On habit he glances over to the corner where Aether sat- and still sits, to his surprise. He seems to be taking a break from studying, instead leaning back in his chair and reading a book.

Dew opens the warmer on the countertop and slides the muffin inside. He adds one of the crescent rolls after some consideration and shuts the machine. The few minutes it takes to warm up the pastries are spent wiping down counters and collecting tools to be washed.

He returns from the kitchen and slides the baked goods from the warmer onto a plate. He hesitates, takes a deep breath, and walks out into the seating area.

Aether looks up as he approaches, pushing his glasses up to his forehead with a tired smile.

“We’re closing in around twenty minutes.” Dew lowers his voice a bit, glancing at the few other people in the shop. “Thought you might want some leftover snacks. Don’t tell anyone.” He smiles and sets the plate next to Aether’s laptop.

“Oh, awesome. I was just wondering what I was gonna have for dinner.” The man smiles with those adorable crooked teeth. “Thanks for the heads up. And the food.”

“‘Course.” Dew smiles back, stomach doing flips. He sneaks a peek at Aether’s book- it’s a well-worn paperback with… two shirtless men on the cover. Well, that answered the question on whether he liked men or not. Dew actually had a chance.

He walks away to notify the other stragglers and wipe down tables. Aether only leaves five minutes before closing, waving at Dew as he did. Goddamnit he’s cute.

Dew has another cigarette on his way home to try to clear his head. He knows Rain hates the smell of smoke but he’ll shower as soon as he gets home.

The front door squeals as Dew enters the apartment, making him wince. He kicks his boots off, drops his bag, and makes his way to his room. Rain’s door is closed so he’s either gaming or jerking off. Dew fights the urge to just collapse on his bed. He knows he’ll never get up that way, and he’d rather not have aching ribs tomorrow from over-binding.

So he grabs his sleeping shirt and fresh underwear and drags himself to the bathroom. He’s out of makeup remover so he just rubs his eyes with a damp cotton pad until his eyeliner is gone. It leaves the skin raw and he winces.

The hot shower water soothes him. He closes his eyes as he massages shampoo into his hair and allows his mind to drift. It immediately goes to Big Sexy. He’s too tired to resist it- fantasizing would probably get the silly crush out of his system faster anyway.

He imagines Aether’s hands in his hair, combing through it gently as they kiss. How warm his lips would be, the scratch of his beard scruff against his neck, his large hands holding Dew’s waist, squeezing his chest, pushing his thighs open-

“Haaaaah…” Dew leans against the shower wall and tips his head back to avoid the spray. His hands explore his body- not as big as Aether’s, but he can pretend. His hand finally dips between his legs to find himself already slick and ready.

He pushes his middle and ring fingers into his cunt with a gasp. “Aether…” He pumps them in and out, imagining the bigger man’s fingers instead. The fingers of his other hand pet over his clit as he imagines Aether’s tongue in their place. Dark blue eyes look up at him through long brown eyelashes, fingers curling right up into that perfect spot, a low chuckle as Dew whines.

He imagines Aether pulling back and he whines again. “Noooooo…” Fantasy-Aether just grins, uses those big hands to flip him onto his stomach, and eases his cock into him. Dew adds two more fingers, moaning at the stretch. “Aeth- oh my god-“

Fantasy-Aether fucks him hard and deep, groaning unspeakably sexy things in Dew’s ear. Dew cums hard, thighs shaking as he clenches and flutters around his fingers. He sinks to his knees and braces his hand on the side of the bathtub as he rides out his orgasm.

“Fuck…” Dew mumbles as he washes off his hands in the now- lukewarm water. He’s embarrassed now- he just jerked off to a customer. He hasn’t technically done anything wrong, he’s free to crank it to whatever his dick desires, but he’s pretty sure he won’t be able to look Aether in the eyes for a good week. Incredibly awkward.

He gets out of the shower, dries off, and changes into pajamas. ‘Pajamas’ is pushing it though, it’s one of those T-shirts with three wolves superimposed over a full moon and forest that’s four sizes too big and boxers.

Dew returns to his room, hair still wrapped up in a towel, and collapses into bed. He’s tired from having emotions all the time. It makes him have to think about his life and if he does that too much he starts to spiral. A therapist would probably tell him to start thinking about his emotions and to stop smoking, but he doesn’t have a therapist. He’s fine as is, as long as he takes his meds. He pays too much for them anyway, he’s not gonna shell out another hundred a week for someone with a degree to tell him to breathe.

There he goes, spiraling again. Dew punches his pillow in frustration. As he rolls onto his back his eyes fall on the notebook on the floor next to his guitar.

He hasn’t journaled in years. The idea makes him want to laugh but… if he can get his thoughts out of his head and onto paper maybe they’ll leave him the fuck alone.

Dew drags himself out of bed and settles on the floor with the notebook. He chews on the cap of the pen tucked into the wire spine and hesitantly touches the tip of the pen to the page.

The next thing he knows he’s filled three pages, front and back. His handwriting is messier than usual- almost illegible- and he can barely remember what he wrote. Probably for the best.

Tearing the pages out of the notebook, Dew crumples them up and reels his arm back to toss them into his garbage can. He hesitates.

Instead, he opens one of his dresser drawers and shoves the wadded paper way into the back. It finds a home among his holey socks and empty deodorant sticks (he really should throw those out). He shoves the drawer closed a little harder than he really needs to. It feels good.

He takes his hair out of the towel and tosses it across the room. He’s too tired to put it into its usual braid, he doesn’t care if it’s frizzy tomorrow. Finally, Dew crawls under the covers with his hair still damp and goes to sleep.

Drop a kudos and comment on AO3!

#tenth drink free #Dewther #dewdrop/aether #trans dewdrop #trans aether #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #dewdrop ghoul #swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul #aeon ghoul #rain ghoul #cirrus ghoulette

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ukrfeminism · 11 months ago

Text

A social worker turned interior designer is tackling furniture poverty by transforming the homes of social housing tenants through her charity.

Emily Wheeler, founder of Furnishing Futures, says the need for her charity is not just cosmetic design - domestic abuse survivors are often driven back to their perpetrators after being given empty social housing with no beds for their children.

When families escaping domestic violence are rehoused by their local council, properties are often stripped of all white goods, furniture, and flooring for health and safety reasons.

Having left their old homes suddenly without any of their belongings, families often end up in a flat or house with nowhere to cook or store food and no beds to sleep in, Emily Wheeler, founder of the charity Furnishing Futures, tells Sky News.

"There are no curtains at the windows, there's no oven, no fridge, no washing machine," she says. "Children are expected to sleep on concrete floors with no beds or bedding.

"Mothers may have experienced economic abuse or coercion and might not have access to their money and find themselves having to start again.

"So you can understand why some women think 'this is actually no better for my children than going back to my previous situation'."

Emily has been a frontline social worker in east London for more than 20 years. During a career break, during which she had her two children, she retrained as an interior designer.

When she returned to social work in 2014, she says austerity meant council budgets were being cut and previously available grants for social housing tenants were no longer funded.

"I've always seen furniture poverty throughout my career, but it had got worse," she says.

"I was meeting families living in these conditions without furniture and without access to support.

"When you look at the amount of stuff councils have to spend money on just to keep people safe, furniture isn't the priority."

Moved into empty flat two days after giving birth

Laura, not her real name, moved between different emergency accommodations while she was pregnant with her first child after being abused by her ex-partner.

She says she was offered a council flat two days after giving birth.

"When I first moved in it was all dirty, there was no furniture, no carpet, no cooker, fridge, or washing machine.

"I had to take out an emergency loan from Universal Credit to get away from my partner, so I didn't have any money left when my baby was born. The first couple of nights I could only eat takeaway food because there was nothing to cook with.

"It had concrete floors. I'd get up in the middle of the night to make my baby a bottle and it would be freezing, so I had to put blankets all over the floor."

Chief executive of the National Housing Federation Kate Henderson says: "In social housing, carpets have historically been removed as standard practice for practical reasons, to ensure hygiene between lets and to prevent any possible contamination.

"In some cases, housing associations provide new flooring as standard when a home is re-let, or in other cases they may provide decorating vouchers to new tenants, which can be used for flooring of their choice."

According to a 2021 study by the campaign group End Furniture Poverty, only 1% of social housing properties are furnished.

Councils under 'no legal obligation'

The Housing Act 1985 states that a local authority "may fit out, furnish and supply a house provided by them with all requisite furniture, fittings and conveniences".

But Emily says this means there is no legal obligation to do so.

"Councils are fulfilling their duty by providing housing, so in the eyes of the law they're not doing anything wrong.

"But having an empty shell of concrete is not a home - just because you're not on the streets."

Having seen the problem on a wider scale when she began chairing multi-agency child protection conferences, she decided to combine her skills as a designer and social worker - and create a charity to help bridge the gap.

Furnishing Futures was set up in 2019. Emily and her team refloor, paint, and furnish empty properties given to trauma and domestic abuse survivors by councils.

She uses her industry connections, which include Soho House, DFS, Dunelm, and others, to source donated furniture, and fundraises for the rest.

She believes it is the only charity of its kind in the UK.

So far they have furnished more than 80 homes across east London, and a pilot scheme with Waltham Forest council and housing association Peabody will see another three completed there.

But with thousands of families on social housing waiting lists in each of the capital's 32 boroughs alone, she wants to expand nationally.

"The hardest thing about my job is having to say no to people because we don't have the capacity," she says.

"Every day we get inquiries from women, midwives, health visitors, other local authorities, domestic abuse agencies - but we're just a small team and the demand is huge."

The charity has a 4,000-square-foot warehouse, a team of five full-time staff, and a group of regular volunteers who help with flooring, painting, and assembling furniture.

As situations are often urgent, work is usually done in just one day.

Empty homes are form of 'revictimisation'

Jen Cirone, director of services at Solace Women's Aid, one of the charity's partners, says being housed in an empty home and having to start again is a form of "revictimisation".

But she says of the charity: "It's not only the practicalities of having a beautiful space to live in but also demonstrates that others care.

"Together, Furnishing Futures is able to complete the road to recovery that work with Solace has put them on."

Hannah, not her real name, is another of Emily's clients.

She was homeless after leaving her ex-partner and given emergency accommodation a day before she was due to give birth to her first child.

"I felt extremely stressed and vulnerable," she says. "As a victim of domestic violence and heavily pregnant, I already felt alone and unsupported.

"This empty space didn't feel like 'home' and it certainly wasn't suitable for baby."

As a type one diabetic she also had nowhere to store her insulin injections, she adds.

"I ended up staying in hospital for some time due to an emergency C-section and during that time Emily turned my empty, scary space into a home for me and my child."

Emily says that although COVID and the cost-of-living crisis have opened the conversation about poverty and how it affects domestic abuse survivors, the situation is "worse than ever".

"We're not just talking about poverty now, we're talking about destitution," she says.

"People need safe and comfortable homes. You won't be able to recover from trauma, rebuild your life, and be a productive part of society if you don't have your basic needs met."

A Department for Levelling Up, Housing and Communities spokesperson said: "Domestic abuse survivors deserve a safe home and we are grateful to Furnishing Futures for the work they do to help these families rebuild their lives.

"We expect social housing providers to play their part and provide homes that are of a decent quality, if tenants are unhappy, we encourage them to speak to their landlords.

"Our Social Housing Regulation Act is also driving up standards and strengthened the role of the Ombudsman so that it is easier for tenants to raise complaints."

#Articles #MVAWG #community #resources #Finance

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thefallennightmare · 1 year ago

Text

Miracle-twenty

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.

Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.

Author Note: A little light smut for now! Basically, all that it's going to be is smut with a side of fluff for the last few chapters.

Tags: @ada-clarence @nonamessblog @thescarlettvvitch @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @theoneandonlykymberlee @yumikitten @blackveilomens @cherrymedicine13 @thebadchic @notmaddihealy @jay02bo @beaker1636 @jakekiszkasguitarpick @punk-pr1ncessxoxo @er3nslovergirl @iamdesolate @lma1986 @jessitpwk @themodern-daywednesday @writethrough @bngurngheart @dreams-that-are-anwsered @loeytuan98 @omens-in-reverse @loverofagoodbeard @jay02bo @niicoleleigh @tearfallpixie

The door in front of us unlocked before Noah led me through the threshold, his fingers linked with mine; the ones that weren't wrapped up in gauze. When the lights clicked on, I blinked a few times at the sudden brightness and looked around. I'd been here a few times but now, this time was different. I wasn't here for a party or to hang out for a few hours. I'd be staying here, for how long I wasn't sure.

Noah and I had spent the last few hours in the hospital getting checked out. While Noah's injuries were mild, just a little smoke inhalation, mine were worse. The burns on my hand would heal eventually with some special cream and I had to keep it wrapped. Even though I fell on top of Jolly and Nick, I still bruised my hip and tweaked my elbow. The worst was the amount of smoke I inhaled. Doctors were concerned and wanted me to stay for observations, but I immediately denied. All I wanted was to go home and find comfort in my bed.

Home? I didn't have a home anymore.

Hours later and two different medications for the pain, I was standing in the middle of Noah's living room unsure what to do or where to go. I was exhausted, hungry, and in desperate need of a shower but still felt awkward as I stood there.

"How are you feeling?" Noah asked as he searched for the answer in my face.

I thought about lying, saying I was fine, but with what happened tonight the relationship between Noah and I changed immensely. He deserved to know the truth about everything even if it wasn't something he wanted to hear because it would worry him.

"My throat burns from all the smoke and my hand stings," I sighed quietly.

The doctor said the burning in my throat might last for a few days so I should try not to talk or strain my voice so much. Noah also was dealing with pain in his throat but I was so fucking thankful they didn't have any upcoming shows for a few weeks, enough time for him to heal and rest. It was bad enough that someone snapped pictures tonight of the fire with the guys there and posted them online, the last thing I needed was to be blamed for Noah not being able to perform.

"Why don't you head upstairs and take a shower? I'll make us something to eat then we can rest in bed all day?" Noah suggested with a slight twinkle in his eyes.

"I don't want to impose, Noah. This is yours and Jolly's place. I'll be out of here as soon as I find something."

He brushed a finger along my jawline and I shivered under his touch.

"I've already told you, angel. You can stay as long as you want, don't feel you have to rush out of here. We can figure all this out one day at a time, okay?"

With tears in my eyes, I reluctantly nodded then picked at the grey sweats that the hospital loaned me. "I don't have any clothes."

Noah made a mocking look over me from head to toe while tapping his chin. "I think you're just about my size. I've got some clothes that will fit."

I playfully smacked his chest with my good hand. "You're hilarious."

"Come on, I'll show you to my room and I'll get some clothes for you," he linked our fingers together then led me up the set of stairs to the upper level.

Noah pointed to a room on the right saying it was Jollys room then when we stopped in front of a closed door, he turned to look at me.

"I should have asked if you're comfortable staying in my room with me," Noah said.

The thought of us sharing a bed together made my stomach flip.

"As long as you're fine with me invading your space."

He gave my hand a squeeze. "It's going to be hard getting out of bed in the mornings now that you're here with me. Also, my room might be a mess. I haven't had the chance to unpack from the festival."

I smiled warmly at him. "I can handle a little mess, Noah. Have you seen my life?"

While I thought it was a funny joke, Noah did not.

"Sorry, bad joke," my lips pulled in a tight line.

Noah let me walk inside first and I nearly gasped at what I saw; a clean, tidied up bedroom with a suitcase perched right in front of his closet.

"If this is your definition of a mess, then I would really like to see what you consider a disaster," I chuckled.

Noah brushed a kiss across my forehead before he began rummaging through his dresser to pull out some clothes for me. It was a large Bad Omens hoodie and a pair of black joggers that were long because of Noah's height.

"What, no panties?" I teased with a wink.

Noah's eyes darkened and pulled me into his chest. "Fresh out but I'm sure you'll be fine without them for a little while."

I audibly gulped at how dark his voice had gotten and felt my core twitch with need. It's been so fucking long since I had a release and I wanted some sort of friction.

But the exhaustion of the day outweighed how horny I was.

"I don't have any toiletries or anything," I said, quickly changing the subject.

Noah turned me back to the open doorway of his room and gently patted my ass. "Bathroom is across the hall. There are extra towels in the closet and should be a new toothbrush in the drawer closet to the toilet. For now, you can use my stuff in the shower; top shelf. Tomorrow we can run to the store to buy you some things."

I raised a brow at him. "You thought of everything, huh?"

"If I wasn't afraid of you falling asleep in the tub, I'd run you a bubble bath with candles and all that shit," Noah smirked while running a hand through his hair.

"So romantic," I pressed a kiss to his cheek before walking across the hall into the bathroom.

Once the door was shut I glanced in the mirror and inwardly cringed at how I looked. My hair was covered in shoot and reeked of smoke. The burn on my hand needed more ointment and a new bandage but figured I would wait till after my shower; which would be hard to do with one hand. It felt weird to strip naked in the guys' bathroom and shower in a place that was so private.

The hot water washed away all the events of today, swirling down the drain, as I thought about where my future was headed. The guys all said that I could have my job back if I wanted it and honestly, I did. Now that I had nothing holding me back, I was ready to get back on the road to focus on my career. It wasn't something I expected I would do when I dropped out of college to help my mom but knowing that I was getting to do this with people I cared about; I wasn't complaining.

Holy shit, no wonder why Noah smelled so fucking good.

As the shampoo rinsed from my hair, I thought about how my relationship with Noah drastically changed. In the beginning, I wanted to take things slow but now realizing what he would do for me; I was ready to jump right into this with him.

And jump right into him.

My cheeks burned as thoughts of Noah standing in this shower with me creeped into my mind and I squeezed my thighs tight, hoping it could curb the desire.

With a sigh, I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around me. I dried my hair with another when a knock sounded on the door.

"Angel?"

Opening door a crack so I could peak through, I raised a brow at him.

"Jolly's going to order us something for breakfast. Anything specific you want?" Noah kept his eyes on my face, not letting his gaze drop past my chin.

It was then I realized how late, or early morning, it was so I shook my head. "I'm fine with anything.

He smiled and went to turn away but his name fell from my lips as I called after him.

"Could you help re-wrap my hand?" I held up my injured hand while opening the door farther.

Now, Noah's eyes dropped to the towel wrapped tightly around me. "Do you want to get dressed first?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "It's nothing you haven't seen before, Noah. In person and with pictures and videos."

A red hue crossed over Noah's nose and I smirked at how cute he looked when embarrassed as he stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. As he took old of my arm to undo the wrap around my injured hand, I stared up at him through lashes.

"When did you find my Only Fan's page?"

Noah hesitated for a moment, halting putting on the medicated ointment. "I found it during the first night at the Airbnb."

My eyes doubled in size. "You knew about it for that long?"

"Wait," I said again when a frightening thought slammed into me. "Do you still have an Only Fan's account?"

"No," he said with such sternness in his voice while dropping my newly wrapped hand to my side. "I deleted my account the second you left. It was wrong of me to say those things about you then to go back on your page to watch it just didn't feel right."

"I deleted my page," I reassured him.

Noah reached around to grab a brush then began brushing my hair. The sweet action made my heart swell and I let my eyes flutter shut at the feeling.

"I would have been fine if you wanted to keep it, I understand why you needed to start it."

"I don't need it anymore. Plus, it would feel wrong posting on there now that were-." My words trailed off, unsure what to call us.

Noah set the brush down then raised a brow at me. "What are we, angel?"

I shrugged while holding the towel closer to my chest so he lifted my chin up towards him. "I'm yours; never stopped. I know I've apologized before but I feel like it hasn't been enough."

"I accepted your apology, Noah. There's no need to continue apologizing," I said.

His fingers dropped my from chin to graze over the skin of my neck across my collar bone then stopped right at the top of my towel. There was a rich darkness to his eyes as they burned into me, something sinister in his mind.

"I really want to kiss you," Noah breathed.

I liked the sound of that.

“I want you to earn your way back up to my lips but you’re going to need to work for it," I ordered while placing my hand on top of Noah's head, which was a task since he was so tall, then pushed him down to his knees.

While looking up at me through his long lashes and hair falling into his eyes, Noah licked his lips. "Can I?

I nodded hastily. "Please."

Noah growled as he lifted me onto the bathroom counter and ripped open the towel, it falling to my sides and I leaned into the coolness of the mirror when his warm tongue flicked over my slick folds. I moaned out his name while running my hands through his hair, hips bucking up into his mouth when he pressed the tip of his tongue on my clit.

"Shit," I breathed, eyes fluttering shut.

"Fuck, angel. I'd get on my knees every day for you. You taste so fucking good," Noah murmured briefly pulling away from my clit.

I hissed in pleasure when his teeth grazed over it before wrapping his lips over my sensitive bud and began sucking. A long finger slide between my lips and I opened myself wider for him as he hooked that finger inside of me. With his mouth biting and sucking on my clit and his finger pumping in and out of me, I felt the coil in my lower belly pull tight. I peered down seeing the tattoos on his fingers disappear into me. My nails scrapped at the roots of his hair as I rode his face closer to my release; it was so close.

"Be a good girl and cum for me, angel."

My orgasm came out in a strangled cry as I writhed above him, his tongue assaulting my pussy as the aftershocks tore through me with such force, I fell slump against the mirror. Noah's soft lips kissed up the inside of my thigh, over my stomach, up my chest between the valley of my breasts where his flicked each nipple with his tongue, then he hovered over my mouth waiting for an answer. His eyes were blown wide with lust and suddenly, I wanted to repay the favor.

"I'd say you earned it," I let out breathless.

Noah's lips attacked my own in a hungry kiss, his teeth biting down almost instantly before his tongue painted over it soothing the pain. I moaned into it when I tasted my arousal on him and my arms hung around his neck, nails scratching over the fabric of his shirt; something I wanted off right now. His large hands ran up and down my bare thighs, goosebumps rising to my skin, and I wrapped my legs around him to pull him closer.

A firm knock on the bathroom door made Noah reluctantly pulled away but continued to hold his grip on me.

"Yeah?"

"Breakfast is here, and it's getting cold," Jolly called through the wood of the door.

Noah buried his face deep into the crook of my neck to breathe me in. "I've already had the best fucking meal."

Giggling, I brushed away the hair from his face before leaving a kiss on his forehead. "I am hungry."

"Then we'll continue this later," he promised with a gentle kiss to my lips.

"I'll meet you downstairs," I pushed him away so I could hop off the counter and pat his chest. "You should probably shower; you stink."

Noah scoffed with a chuckle and helped me get dressed since I couldn't with my injured hand and I slipped out of the bathroom when he turned on the shower. It shocked me to see Jolly still leaning up against the wall next to the door. He stared at me with a raised brow, a small smile on his lips.

"Hi," I said quietly.

Jolly hummed. "Glad to see you're settling in fine."

Cheeks burning, I pointed to the door behind me. "I was just showering."

"Sure, sounded like it," he winked before ruffling my hair and heading downstairs.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #forced proximity #enemies to lovers #slow burn

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recycledmoviecostumes · 1 year ago

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This stunning antique French bed, circa the 1860s, was designed in the Louis XVI manner and was hand embroidered with Chinese silk panels. It was used in Gone with the Wind as Scarlett O’Hara’s bed after she marries Rhett Butler.

The bed went up for auction at Julien’s in 2019, selling for $51,200. The previous owner claimed that the bed had been loaned to David O. Selznick by a prominent Southern California family and then returned. While this certainly may be true, the bed somehow made it back to the prop house for MGM before being given back to the family, as the piece did make a second appearance in the 1940 film All This, And Heaven Too. It was used as the bed of the Duchesse de Praslin, played by Barbara O’Neil, who had starred as Scarlett O’Hara’s mother the year before in Gone with the Wind.

Costume Credit: Katie S.

Follow: Website | Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest | Instagram

#props #gone with the wind #all this and heaven too

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samaraannhan20 · 11 months ago

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Austin Butler Imagine: College AU! Yes to the Dress

Warnings: College! reader, Agegap! (About 10 years)

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“What time are your friends arriving tomorrow?” Austin asks me as we lay down in bed for the night. I curl myself up into his side before I respond.

“Well Kyra is driving in and will get here around 6 pm. I have a girls day with the whole group on Saturday. Tara and Alice are flying in and we need to go pick them up at noon. Oh and my mom and sister will be here by 6 as well.”

“What are you doing for your girls day on Saturday?” he asks as he reaches over and turns off our lamp which in turns places us in the dark, with only the glow of the background movie still giving us light.

“We’re going to brunch, and then going dress shopping. I’m going to ask everyone to be my bridesmaid after they all get here tomorrow night, so we’ll also look for bridesmaid dresses while we’re dress shopping probably,” I say as I turn the tv off.

“Are you excited?” he asks me as we turn and face each other in the bed.

“I am. I am so excited to have a wedding and end the day married to you. Although, as much as I love weddings I could probably just go to the courthouse and marry you right now.”

“I would do the same. But there is no reason to rush it. It won’t be a huge wedding anyway. Family and friends,” he says with a small smile.

“Yes. Family and friends. I hope Baz and Catherine can come. I miss getting to see them,” I say as I close my eyes. “And Miss Priscilla. I’m already trying to figure out a way to wear the bracelet she gave me at the premiere on our wedding day.”

“No one will even notice if it doesn’t match. If you want to wear it and it's important to you, wear it,” he says, placing a kiss on my forehead. “Now turn around so we can cuddle and go to sleep. We can keep wedding planning tomorrow,” he says, and moves away so I have room to turn over.

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“Hey Aus?”

“Yeah darlin?” he asks as he rounds the corner to the living room where I am seated.

“Mom said she should be here in like an hour and a half. Is that guest room ready?”

“You mean the one on the exact opposite side of the house than our room? Also known as the room we only use when your family is in town?” he says with a small laugh, pressing a kiss to my forehead as he comes up behind me. “Yeah, it’s ready.”

“And what about Ella’s room? Right next to it?”

“Yep. Both rooms that are the farthest away from us are ready, in order to stop family members from being scarred by the fact that we have sex,” he says with a laugh and then starts massaging my shoulders. “Baby you need to loosen up. It’s not the wedding weekend yet. We’re ten months away from that.”

“Yeah I know, but I’m asking the girls to be my bridesmaids this weekend, and asking Kyra to be my maid of honor, and not all of the parts of the gifts are here yet and I need them to be here before Kyra, Tara, and Alice get here because I don’t want them to see it before I give it to them later tonight.”

“You could always give it to them tomorrow night,” he says as he continues massaging my shoulders.

“No, because I want to look at a few bridesmaid dresses while we’re dress shopping tomorrow,” I tell him, bending my head back to look at him.

“Oh right,” he says, and lets go of my shoulders, choosing instead to walk around the couch and sit down, grabbing my arm and pulling me into him. “Speaking of dress shopping, there’s a credit card on the counter for you.”

“What? Why?” I ask him, pulling a little away so I can look into his eyes.

“Because you’re still paying student loans, you shouldn’t be worrying about how you’re going to pay for a wedding dress. It's as much for me as it is for you, so I want to pay for it. And for the bridesmaid dresses so that no one has to worry about how they’re going to pay for it.”

“Austin, no. If the tabloids learn about that they’ll call me a gold digger. Again,” I say, enunciating the ‘again’ because I have been accused of that at least three times in the past.

“So what if they do? You and I both know that is not why you’re with me. Along with our entire group of family and friends. I want to take care of it, please let me,” he says, whispering on the last part. I launch myself into his lap, and pepper kisses all over his face and neck.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Hey everyone! Dinner is ready!” I holler from the kitchen where I stand with Austin. He drops a kiss on my forehead as he walks out of the room, heading to the living room to avoid the chaos that is about to ensue. I wait silently as my closest friends and mom and sister walk into the kitchen. They all start to reach for plates, but I stop them.

“Actually, there is one thing I would like to do before eating. If you would follow me,” I say with a smirk and then walk into the dining room. I walk to stand next to Austin as they all walk in the room, and notice the different boxes with each of their names on it. “Please find your name and then sit down at that spot. Do not open your box until I say to open it,” I tell them, and they all follow and sit down in their seats. When they are all sitting and settled down I speak up again.

“You all already know what this is,” I start with a small laugh, and they all laugh and cheer in agreement. “However, there is an order I would like to do this in. Starting with Kyra, you can go ahead and open yours,” I say, and she immediately opens her box. She tears up when she realizes what it is.

“You want me to be your maid of honor?” she says with tears in her eyes, looking at me. I nod, also tearing up. She stands up and walks over to me, giving me a hug. When she pulls away she looks from me to Ella and then back again. “What about Ella? She’s your sister,” she says, concern washing over her face.

“We talked. We both agreed it was more of a job for someone who was old enough to drink legally when I turn into bridezilla,” I say with a laugh, wiping my eyes. Everyone in the room laughs, and I give Kyra one last hug before shooing her back to her seat. “Okay, everyone else you can open your boxes now,” I say to them, and they all rip open their boxes. “Mom there is also one for you, but just a gift. Not asking you to be a bridesmaid,” I say with a laugh, and watch as she rips into her box as well.

As they get into their boxes they jump up and down and start crying, before swarming me into a group hug. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Austin standing in the corner taking a picture of us, and I start to cry even more.

“Okay wait though, do you guys wanna see what I got Ashley’s daughter to ask her to be my flower girl?” I say after a few minutes when we all pull away and are wiping our eyes. They all cheer yes, so I go over to the hall closet and pull out the box that I got her. I bring it over to the table and open the box, causing a loud chorus of ‘aww’.

“That is the cutest thing I have ever seen,” Tara says, and we all just laugh. As I close the box up and go put it back in the closet I shout over my shoulder “there’s pizza in the kitchen!” I laugh as I hear everyone stampede into the kitchen. While they’re all distracted I walk to Austin and wrap my arms around him.

“I love you,” he says as I lay my head on his chest.

“I love you. And I can’t wait to be Mrs. Austin Butler,” I say, pulling my head back to look up at him. He leans down and kisses me, and as he does we hear another chorus of awws and pull away with a laugh, turning to look at the doorway to the kitchen where all of the bridesmaids stand. I feel him press a kiss to the top of my head as he pulls out of my arms, and takes my hand to lead me into the kitchen for food.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“You know, you never told me how you and Austin met,” Alice says in the middle of brunch on Saturday.

“Really?” I say around the mouthful of food I just shoved in my mouth. Kyra laughs with my little sister as little bits of food fly out of my mouth.

“Graceful,” my mother mutters with a small smile coming across her face.

“Yes, really. You just called one day and told me that I would never believe who you were dating before blurting out that you were dating Austin. And then you said you had to go call some other important family members because an article would probably drop before you had the chance to tell them if you didn’t tell them right then. And we never discussed it again,” Alice says, looking at me expectantly.

“I know the story,” Kyra and Tara say at the same time, before looking at each other and laughing.

“So do we,” my sister says, pointing at herself and my mother.

“Oh. Well I guess you only got to know the full story if I lived with you,” I say, looking at Tara with a laugh. “Well mom, Ella, and Kira also knew because they have known everything since the start. Kira knows more than anyone else, because I had many anxious discussions with her leading up to us officially getting together three years ago,” I say, taking one last bite of food and then pushing my plate away, before diving into the story.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Flashback to May 2021

“Okay. You guys have two hours of studio time to get this take today,” the executive says to the choir as we all stand in the recording studio. Our director nods and then gets our attention to start the singing.

It takes probably an hour and a half before we have a couple of solid takes, and then the executive walks back in.

“I think we got it guys! Now, can the soloist stick around? Everyone else can head home, and I’ll let you know if we need to find another day to try again, but I’m pretty sure we got a good take today” he says, and my choir director looks at me, before turning to everyone else and telling them it was time to go home. I shuffle forward as everyone else leaves the room, and then shoot a shy smile towards the executive. “If you will follow me I have a couple of people who want to meet you,” the executive says, and I nod with a smile, and clasp my hands together to hide the shaking. I follow him down a different hallway where no one is around, and then enter a room. I look up from my feet when I hear people stand up and see people who I never expected standing in front of me.

“Hi, Y/N?” Baz says as he steps up to me and holds out his hand to shake. I reach out and shake his hand, hoping that my shaking isn’t too obvious, and mutter a small hello. “I’m Baz,” he says, and I shoot him a small smile. “Of course, you probably already knew that,” he says with a laugh, and I laugh along with him. “And this is Austin,” he says, motioning towards the person standing next to him. I mutter hello to him, blushing as he takes my hands in his and clasps them together.

“You sounded amazing,” he tells me, and I blush even more.

“Oh I’m not even the best singer in the choir. This just happened to be the solo I was assigned for the semester. I don’t even think I should have been the one it was given to,” I say, looking away.

“Oh nonsense,” Priscilla Presley says as she steps forward, immediately pulling me into a hug. “You were amazing. I am so glad that you were chosen for it,” she says, and then presses a kiss on my cheek.

“I had a question I wanted to ask you,” Baz says, and then motions towards a chair and asks me to take a seat. I sit down and Priscilla sits next to me, with Austin and Baz sitting across from me. “There is one song that we were wanting to put on the soundtrack that we hadn’t quite found the right voice for,” Baz starts, and I get a questioning look across my face. “After listening to you sing the solo with your choir we wanted to ask you if you could do it,” he says with a small smile. “Of course, you can say no. I know that not everyone would be comfortable with something like that, especially if they didn’t want to be thrust into the fame spotlight,” he says, and I shrink down in my chair.

“I’m really sorry,” I start. “I am so thankful for the opportunity, but I have to say no. I really didn’t even want the small solo on the song we just recorded, but since I’m a music major my director told me I couldn’t say no. I don’t want to be famous, I just want to teach music to little kids,” I say, and everyone around smiles.

“That is completely okay,” Priscilla says, and takes my hands in hers. “I think you should do what you want to do, and if this isn't it that is okay. The world needs good teachers. And I can tell that you are going to be one,” she says, and I flush. Austin mutters something in agreement, and I flush even more.

“I do know someone that could do it,” I say, and when Baz asks me who it is, I give them the name of someone else in my choir whose voice is like mine. They tell me thank you, and that they will get in contact with her. We all talk for a little bit longer and then Baz stands up as his phone rings.

“I need to get this, but it was so nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says and holds out his hand for me to take. I take it, thinking that this would just be a hand shake, but he pulls me up from my seat and into a hug. I hear small chuckles come from the others in the room and laugh myself as I hug Baz. “You will make an amazing teacher,” he says as he pulls back, and then answers the phone waving goodbye as he steps out of the room. The executive that had been sitting in the room with us the entire time stands up saying he will lead me out, and I nod, and turn to Priscilla and Austin.

“Thank you for asking me. It means a lot,” I say, and Priscilla stands up and pulls me into a hug.

“While I wish you had said yes, I fully understand why you did not. I hope you succeed in everything that you want to. And I hope we see you at the premiere,” she says, and I nod.

“If I get an invite I will be there,” I say as I pull away, and then turn and hold out my hand for Austin. “It was nice to meet you,” I say quietly, and he takes my hand in his.

“It was nice to meet you. I can walk you out,” he says, turning to the executive looking for a nod of approval, and then dropping my hand and walking towards the door. I follow behind him, not sure what to say or what exactly is happening. We walk down the hallway making a bit of small talk as we walk down the hall. When we get to the door that leads out to the parking lot.

“Well this is my stop,” I say with a small laugh, and he laughs as well.

“I guess it is. Can I get your number?” he asks, and I freeze. “I mean, just to make sure you do get an invite to the premiere,” he says quickly, trying to calm me down in some way.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense,” I say as he pulls out his phone and hands it to me after opening the contact app and starting a new number. I place my number in his phone and then hand it back.

“It was nice to meet you,” I say and then wave goodbye before pushing the door open. I walk out into the parking lot to my car, and get in and start it. I pull my phone out to start music and notice I have a text from an unknown number.

Unknown number

I hope you gave me your real number because I would love to get to know you more.

Austin

I drop my phone in the seat next to me, and then quickly grab it, shooting a text back.

I never give out fake numbers, there’s no telling who’s phone number they are. I would also love to get to know you more.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“And the rest is history,” I say as I finish my story, smiling absently as I reminisce on how Austin and I met.

“I totally forgot that your choir sang for the Elvis movie,” Alice says.

“Yeah. I think if I wasn’t with Austin because of it I probably would have forgotten too. Other than meeting him and Miss Pricilla it was almost just a normal recording experience, and we do that every year,” I say with a shrug.

“You guys literally had a real-life meet-cute,” Ella says, and we all laugh.

“You’re not wrong. Some days I wake up having a hard time believing that this is my real life,” I quietly say. “I mean, I love Austin with everything that I am, sometimes it’s hard with his fame though.”

“Yeah I don’t think I could ever get used to that,” Alice says, Tara and Ella nod in agreement.

“I wouldn’t change it for the world though. This is how it was meant to be. And I’m so excited to spend the rest of my life with him,” I tell them, a blush coming across my face.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Going to the chapel and I’m gonna get married,” the three of us sing off key as we walk to the bridal shop, my arms interlinked with Kyra and Tara’s arms. We all laugh as we hear the laughs of the rest of our group behind us.

I remove my arms from Kyra and Tara and open the door of the shop, holding it open for everyone. My mom is the last person to walk in, and she holds her hand out for me to take as we enter the shop.

“Hello, welcome!” the owner exclaims as she walks up to our group. “Do you guys have an appointment?”

“Yes,” I say. “It’s under Y/N,” I tell her, and she unlocks the ipad she had been holding and looks at her calendar.

“Oh, yes! It’s so good to see you! I’m Sarah and I’ll be helping you today! Do you know what you were wanting to start with today?” she asks, and I look at the girls. They all shrug in response, so I turn back to Sarah.

“The main goal for today is to hopefully find my wedding dress, but I was also wanting to look at a few bridesmaid dresses, just to get an idea,” I say to her, and she nods in understanding.

“Okay! Do you want to start with the bridesmaid dresses?”

“Yes please!” I say, and she guides us over to a section of the store that has bridesmaid dresses.

“Do you know what your colors for the wedding are?” she asks as the girls split up to thumb through dresses.

“Darker pastel colors, kind of dusty colors. Leaning towards dusty purple and colors like that. The wedding is October 28th, and I thought that dusty colors went best with that.”

“Is the wedding indoors or outdoors?” she asks. “So I know if we should be looking for things with sleeves or the option to add sleeves.”

“Indoors. I didn’t want to have to worry about weather conditions or the paparazzi’s ability to hide in a bush and take pictures.”

“Paparazzi?” she questions, and I can see in her eyes that she is trying to figure out if she knows who I am, or if she has seen me somewhere before.

“Um, yeah. My fiance is Austin Butler,” I say quietly, and I see the recognition in her eyes the moment she connects the dots.

“Oh! Well we run a shop that focuses on the privacy of our customers, so you won’t have to worry about anyone finding out. We were actually the shop that Ashley Tisdale found her wedding dress in,” she tells me and I quietly laugh.

“Yeah, she recommended it to me. She would have been here today, but she had some meetings happening,” I tell her. She nods and then turns to a section of the shop.

“Okay, well, we are so glad that you chose our shop. These dresses over here come in whatever color you want, and you should be able to get sleeves added onto most of them if you want. Were you wanting your bridesmaids to all wear one color?”

“No. They can all wear whatever color they want as long as they all look good together. I think I just want them to try on one each while we’re here, just to start getting some ideas,” I explain and she nods.

“While they look at these, why don’t you and your mother go and start choosing some dresses you might want to try on today,” she says, and motions to where the wedding gowns are. I nod and take my mom’s hand and walk over to that side of the store. My mom and I shop side by side, pulling things that I would like to try on for about twenty minutes.

After that time, Sarah comes over to us.

“Your bridesmaids are ready to show you what they found, and then we can start trying on the dresses you chose. I also pulled some that I thought you might like based on what you had told me when you scheduled your appointment and what you had been pulling today,” she tells us, as she points us in the direction of where the girls are trying on dresses.

“We all originally had different ones,” Kyra calls out from the dressing room.

“But then we saw this one and thought it looked better than all the others,” Alice shouts from her dressing room. “Let's go girls!” she continues, and they all three step out of their dressing rooms in the same dress. My eyes well up as I take them in.

“Guys. This is perfect. How did you find it?” I ask them as I wipe tears off my face.

“Kyra found it,” Tara says, and I turn to Kyra.

“Yeah. We’ve been discussing your wedding for years, and when I saw this I knew it was what you would want. And it looks good on all of us,” she says, and I run to her and pull her into a hug.

“Already going above and beyond in your maid of honor duties,” I whisper, and she laughs.

“What can I say? I’m good at my job,” she says, and I laugh before pulling away.

“Well,” I start, turning to Sarah. “We found our bridesmaid dresses.”

“Amazing. I will get Rosie,” she says, and then motions to another worker standing a few feet away. “To write down the style and everyone’s sizes while you and I head into that dressing room and get into your first gown,” she says, and then turns towards everyone else. “I will make sure you are all back out here and comfortable before I bring her out in her first dress.” They all smile and nod, before the four girls head back into their own dressing rooms. My mom sits down on the big couch as I head into my huge dressing room with Sarah.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“How do you feel?” she asks as we slip the eighth dress onto my body.

“Honestly, starting to feel a little discouraged. I really wanted to find my dress today and be able to go home and tell Austin that I found it,” I tell her as she clamps the back up.

“Well, don’t get too discouraged because this one looks amazing,” she says, and then taps my shoulder, which I have discovered throughout the last hour means to turn around and look in the mirror that is taking up the entirety of the wall behind me.

“Oh…” I gasp as I turn around. Tears well up in my eyes as I look at myself in the mirror. “Sarah, did I grab this?” I ask her as I stare at myself in the gown that was meant to be mine.

“No, I think your mother did, or maybe one of your bridesmaids,” she tells me, resting a hand on my shoulder and handing me a tissue with the other one.

“I think… I think this might be the one,” I tell her as I continue to stare at myself, taking the tissue from her hand in order to wipe the tears off my face and running my other hand across the fabric.

“Hurry up!” we hear come from the waiting area, and I chuckle, wiping a spare tear that is falling down my face.

“Are you ready to go show them?” Sarah asks me, and I nod, allowing her to walk out of the room before me. “Ladies, I think this might be the one,” she says as she walks out before me, and I hear them all gasp as I turn the corner and walk into the room, looking at my feet as I walk.

“Oh, Y/N,” I hear my mother mutter as I stop in front of the mirror that surrounds almost the entire area. I look up from my feet and out at my family and friends, and tear up when I see tears in their eyes as well.

“Y/N, please tell me that’s the one,” Kyra says, and I smile. “Please say that’s the one, because you look amazing in it. And you look so so happy.”

“It’s the one,” I say, with another tear falling down my face. “This is the one. Mom,” I say, looking at her, “did you pull this one from the rack?”

“I did. You brushed past it, but I saw it and knew you should at least try it on. It looks so much better than I could have ever imagined. You look radiant in it,” she says, trying to hold her sobs in as she takes me in.

“Thank you Mama,” I respond, tears streaming down my face, as well as all my friends' faces and my sister's face. Everyone jumps up and gives me a hug, resulting in a huge group hug. “I love all of you. I can’t wait to be able to celebrate this big day with you,” I say and then squeeze my arms a little tighter around everyone. “Okay, you’re all suffocating me now. And we’re going to mess up the dress,” I say after another minute or two, with a slight laugh. They all laugh and pull away and I turn and look at myself again.

“Were you wanting to try a veil on with it?” Sarah asks as I stare at myself in the mirror.

“Oh! I hadn’t even thought about that. Yes I would love to,” I respond, and everyone chuckles as she heads off to grab one that will look good with it. She comes back with a few, and I try a few on before deciding on one. I stare at myself in the mirror a little longer, and notice my friends taking pictures of me in the background.

“Okay. I think it’s time to get out of this dress until the next time,” I say, turning to Sarah. She nods and we go back into the dressing room.

“Okay, before we get you out of this dress I need to take some measurements so we can make sure to get it altered correctly,” she says, and I nod in understanding. For the next fifteen minutes she takes some measurements and then pulls back after the last one. “Okay, now we can get you out of it,” she says, and I laugh. She helps me out by unclamping the dress and helping slip it down over my hips. I step out of it and over to my clothes, slipping the dress I had worn back on quickly.

“Is there a certain place for me to pay for everything?” I ask, and she laughs.

“Actually, your fiance called about an hour ago and gave us his information to have us charge your dress, anything else you may want, and the bridesmaid dresses to his credit card. He asked me to tell you he found the conveniently forgotten credit card you had left behind.”

“Dang it. I was hoping he wouldn’t find that until after I got back,” I say with a small laugh. She also laughs in response, and then we are back in front of my friends and family.

“Do you want to take an ‘I said Yes to the Dress’ picture?” Sarah asks as we all gather our things. Everyone cheers yes, and she ushers us together before grabbing the sign from somewhere nearby. I hand her my phone, and she takes multiple pictures of us before handing it back. “Okay, Y/N, I will see you back here in about a month to try on the dress after alterations.”

“Awesome! Thank you so much for all of your help Sarah,” I tell her, and then pull her in for a hug.

“You’re welcome! I’m so glad you were able to find your dress today,” she says as I pull away from the hug. We all say our goodbyes and head out the door. We laugh and talk as we make our way down the sidewalk to my car.

“I’m so excited!” Alice says, and I laugh.

“Believe me, no one is more excited than I am.”

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Honey I’m home,” I call out as I walk in the door. Everyone had taken my car and gone out to see a movie in order to give me some time alone with Austin after finding the dress.

“I’m in here,” he calls from the office, and I toe my shoes off by the door before walking over to it.

“Hey sweet boy,” I say as I walk in the door and see him looking over a script at his desk.

“Hi darlin’,” he says, pushing back from the desk and opening up his arms for me to walk into. I sit down on his lap and wrap my arms around his neck, giving him a small kiss. “Where is everyone?”

“They wanted to give us some time alone so they went out to see a movie. They’ll be back for dinner later. I think their movie started like five minutes ago,” I tell him, laying my head on his chest. “You’re sneaky, you know that?”

“Hey you’re sneaky too, trying to hide that credit card so I wouldn’t find it,” he responds, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“Yeah I guess so. And I mean, how would anyone even know that you paid for it, not me?” I say, and he smiles.

“Exactly my point. Now, how was dress shopping?” he asks. A huge smile breaks out on my face and I lift up and kiss him again. “That good huh?” he says as I pull away again, and I laugh.

“Not only did we find bridesmaid dresses, but I also found my wedding dress!” I exclaim, and he squeezes my sides where his arms are wrapped around me.

“That’s amazing darlin’,” he says, and then pulls me in for a kiss. When he pulls away he asks, “I know I don’t get to see the winning wedding dress, but can I see some of the other ones you tried on and the bridesmaid dresses?” I laugh and nod, pulling out my phone and plugging it into his computer so he can see the pictures I had been sent. No one had sent me pictures of the winning dress, because they knew Austin could get onto my phone at any minute and they didn’t want him to find the picture.

“Okay, so these are the bridesmaid dresses,” I say as I pull up a picture of all of them in their dresses.

“Those look great!”

“That’s what I said! And they perfectly fit the theme I was going for,” I tell him, placing a kiss on his cheek before turning back to the computer. “Okay, so this is the first dress I tried on. Everyone cried simply because it was my first time in a wedding dress, but we all agreed it wasn’t the one,” I tell him, and he laughs. “This one we thought looked good, but there wasn’t an immediate connection. If I hadn’t found another one I would have tried that one on again, but probably would have left empty handed. This next one I hated but I tried it on to appease my mother,” I tell him, and he laughs. We sit like that going through all the dresses until I get to the last one. “This is the one where I was starting to lose hope, because I felt like I wasn’t going to find one today. If you look at my eyes you can see how tired I am and how much I was hoping we could just call it quits soon. But then, they convinced me to try on one more dress, and sure enough the next dress was the one that was it.”

“Do you have any pictures anywhere of that one?” he asks with a sly smile on his face.

“They do. I don’t. They wouldn’t send me any because they knew you would know the password to my phone and would try to find it. I think I’ll have someone post it early on the wedding day as a throwback of sorts, to show when I got the dress,” I tell him, and he nods.

“And that will work because neither of us will be on our phones that day. We'll be so busy,” he says, and I laugh.

“Yep. With a 2 o’clock wedding we’ll be busy all morning. And then all evening. Honestly I probably won’t be on my phone or checking social media until we’re on the plane on Sunday morning. And even then I might not. I will have to be texting my parents though when we leave here and arrive in Paris.”

“Speaking of, I finalized those flights earlier. And booked the hotel rooms.”

“Yay! I go back in a month for a fitting to make sure the dress fits correctly, and if it does I can bring it home that day. Except I might take it over to Ashley’s because I love you, but you are a snoop. And I don’t want you to see it before the day of,” I say with a small smile, and he laughs.

“You know me too well. Oh! Ashley called earlier and asked what night you were wanting to have dinner this week?”

“Oh right! Gotta ask Jupiter to be my flower girl,” I say, laying my head on his shoulder. “Whatever day works best for you honey. I’m taking Mom and Ella to the airport really early in the morning, and when I leave to take them Kyra, Tara, and Alice are going home. So even tomorrow night would work, but only if I get a nap. If I don’t get a nap I will be going to bed at like eight.”

“I know. I know how you function sweets,” he says.

“Speaking of, can we go lay on the couch for a bit? I want to change first, but then I want to cuddle with you before my family comes back. I’m exhausted,” I say, sitting up and looking at him.

“Of course,” he says, and then pats my leg to get me to stand up, before heading to the couch as I head to our room to change.

“One last thing,” I say when I get into the living room after changing. “Was that script you were reading any good?”

“Maybe. I need to finish it in the morning while you nap, but it seemed promising.”

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Jupiter,” I call out as I sit down in the living room at Ashley’s house. I laugh as I hear her little feet come running from the room she was in.

“Aunty Y/N!” she exclaims as she jumps into my lap.

“I have a present for you Jup,” I say as I give her a hug, smiling over her head at Ashley, Christopher, and then next to me at Austin. She wiggles out of my arms and slides down to the floor to stand in front of me.

“Give it,” she states in her little toddler voice, and I laugh.

“Jupiter! Ask nicely!” Ashley exclaims with a small laugh. I wave her off and grab the box from the table behind where Jupiter is standing.

“Jupiter Iris, will you be my flower girl in Uncle Austin and I’s wedding?” I ask her as I open the box for her. She immediately takes the sunglasses out of the box and puts them on her face.

“Can I wear these sunglasses?” she asks and I laugh.

“Yes Jupes, you can. But you have to take a picture with me tonight before you run off again.”

“Yes Aunty Y/N,” she says with a small nod. I laugh and gather her into my arms holding the box as best I can as Ashley grabs her phone and takes a picture of the two of us. I place a big wet kiss on her cheek as everyone laughs, including her. “Gross Auntie,” she says as she giggles and tries to wiggle out of my arms. I loosen and let her go, and she bolts out of the room.

“Well,” I say as I slide over on the couch into Austin’s arms. “I guess we have a flower girl.”

#austin butler x fem!reader #austin butler fluff #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #austin butler

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mcmansionhell · 1 year ago

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pre-recession, post-taste

Hello, everyone. I hope this blog can bring some well-needed laughs in really trying times. That's why I've gone back into the archives of that precipitous year 2007, a year where the McMansion was sleepwalking into being a symbol of the financial calamity to follow. We return to the Chicago suburbs once more because they remain the highest concentration of houses in their original conditions. Thanks to our flipping predilection, these houses become rarer and rarer and I have to admit even I have developed a fondness for them as a result.

Our present house is ostensibly "French Provincial" in style, which is McMansion for "Chateaux designed by Carmela Soprano". It boasts 7 bedrooms, 8.5 bathrooms, and comes in at a completely reasonable 15,000 square feet. It can be yours for an equally reasonable $1.5 million.

Every 2007 McMansion needed two things: a plethora of sitting rooms and those dark wood floors. This house actually has around five or six sitting rooms (depending if you count the tiled sunroom) but for brevity's sake, I'll only provide two of them.

With regards to the second sitting room, I'm really not one to talk statuary here because beside me there is a bust of Dante where the sculptor made him look simultaneously sickly and lowkey hot.

Technically, if we are devising a dichotomy between sitting and not sitting (yes, I know about the song), the dining room also counts as a sitting room. The more chairs in your McMansion dining room, the more people allegedly like you enough to travel 2.5 hours in traffic to see you twice a year.

Here's the thing about nostalgia: the world as we knew it then is never coming back. In some ways this is sad (kitchens are entirely white now and marble countertops will look terrible in about 3 years) but in other ways this is very good (guys in manhattan have switched to private equity instead of betting the farm on credit default swaps made from junk mortgages proffered to America's most vulnerable and exploited populations.) Progress!

Okay I really don't understand the 50 bed pillows thing. Every night my parents tossed their gazillion decorative pillows on the floor just to put them back on the bed the next morning. Like, for WHAT? Who was going in there? The Pope?

Here's a fun one for your liminal spaces moodboards. (Speaking for myself.)

Yes, I know about skibidi toilet. And sticking out your gyatt for the rizzler. I wish I didn't. I wish I couldn't read. Literacy is like a mirror in which I only see the aging contours of my face.

When your kids move out every room becomes a guest room.

Anyway, let's see what the rear of this house has to offer.

The migratory birds will not forgive them for their crimes. But also seriously, not even a garden?

Anyway, that does it for this round of McMansion Hell. Happy Halloween!

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

#architecture #design #mcmansion #mcmansions #ugly houses #interior design #bad architecture #2000s design #illinois

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drdemonprince · 1 year ago

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Any recommended reading for a newbie to anarchism?

David Graeber truly is the best entry point into the pipeline i feel. Reading his work doesn't feel like "reading theory", it feels like learning more about a specific aspect of the world from an engaging, open-minded author who makes history and anthropology accessible, and then simply realizing somewhere along the line that you've become a lot more radical than you realized you'd always been.

Bullshit Jobs is his easiest and most approachable read -- start with this if you're not a big reader of dense books, or if my book Laziness Does Not Exist particularly spoke to you. It's about how the majority of reasonably well-paying jobs today are completely meaningless, and why important, fulfilling jobs that are actually necessary to run society are so often thankless and poorly paid.

If you have student loan or credit card debt out the ass or you grew up hearing the myth that the earliest human societies relied on trading and bartering, pick up Debt: The First 5000 Years. This one is a bit of a tougher read than Bullshit Jobs, but still approachable, talking about the history of human commerce, debt forgiveness, enslavement, and where that history has left us today. You'll learn a lot about history but Graeber will also always lead you back to the present.

If you were a follower of the Occupy Wallstreet movement and wonder why it failed (or whether it failed), pick up The Democracy Project. This is a slimmer, faster read! And it focuses a lot more on the practical tactics and bylaws of Occupy organizing. In it, Graeber illustrates how human groups can be run without hierarchy and just how well that can work! It's perhaps the most explicitly anarchist book of his in that sense at least, yet it's also very conversational and easy to follow, with lots of lessons learned and specific examples from real-life organizing meetings.

If you hate rules and bureaucracy, pick up Utopia of Rules. What Debt is for bursting basic, widespread myths about economics, Utopia of Rules is for challenging mainstream knowledge about the role of the state. This one is actually an essay collection, and that makes it a quicker, easier read than many of the others -- in each chapter, Graeber tackles one specific aspect of irritating modern-day bureaucracy, and its full of relatable gripes about going to the DMV or applying for unemployment, but then it zooms out to make a larger point about how societies now function (and fail to function).

If you're interested in Indigenous cultures and how various human societies have approached governance, start with Dawn of Everything, which he co-wrote with David Wengrow. Now this is a MUCH denser book that I recommend taking chapter by chapter, pausing to savor all the new information and paradigm-busting that they've just showered you with. A chapter before bed each night and then some time laying down and simply reflecting about the diversity of human social potential is a great way to slowly work your way through it.

If you read any of these, you'll be left with a lot of ideas as to where to look next -- Graeber was widely read in a great many fields himself, so he'll leave you a trail of breadcrumbs to follow.

The Anarchist Library online is also a great place to find shorter, more explicitly anarchist theory work, once you're ready to delve in. The r/debateanarchism subreddit is also something you should subscribe to and thumb through every once in a while!

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 9 months ago

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Sugar Mama Chapter 1

And another one! New story involving #sugarbabybucky Summary: Bucky is overworked and struggling to get by. The bills are piling up and he’s consistently in the red with no end in sight. Y/N is a billionaire’s daughter, entrepreneur and philanthropist having a hard time finding true friends or love. She has a proposition for him.

bucky barnes x curvy!reader Warnings: eventual smut, sexual assault (not from Bucky)

Next chapter

Bucky was exhausted. He had been working three jobs for four years now just trying to get by, and this was his sixth sixteen hour day in a row. Student loans and credit card debt was eating him out of house and home, in the most literal sense. Even living in a rent controlled building wasn’t helping with the bills piling up. He had gone to college for architecture and interior design, which he was doing now working as an assistant during normal working hours for one of the many local interior designers. Then he would go straight to his second job as a waiter in a high end restaurant in downtown Manhattan, then at the end of the night go home and do a few more hours of online tutoring. He had ended his 20s and entered his 30s feeling like an old man, with no end in sight of ever getting a break or being able to break even with his debt. Forget about dating or having a family someday. That all seemed like a ridiculous pipe dream now.

“Heeeeyyyy Buckaroo?” Steve sidled up to him as he was cleaning off wine glasses.

“No,” Bucky cut him off.

“But it’s just–”

“Steve, it’s Friday night, I’d really like to go home and get in bed at a normal time tonight,” Bucky interrupted him, the dark circles under his eyes that he tried to ignore looking more prominent by the day.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. But Peggy has been hounding me about going to that new burlesque club that just opened and I told her I was working but we haven’t had a date night in a long time–”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m not sharing tips,” Bucky sighed, rubbing his face as he pulled a 5 Hour Energy out of his apron pocket and quickly downed it like a shot.

“Those are bad for you, Buck,” Steve gave his friend a worried look.

“Well maybe a heart attack in my 30s will put me out of my misery,” Bucky half-joked. Steve was silent. Bucky turned to him and scoffed. “It’s a joke. Go, I’ll take the closing shift. Say hi to Peg for me.”

“I’ll take your next closing, I promise. Thanks punk,” Steve gave him a quick hug.

“Yeah whatever, jerk,” Bucky laughed. As Steve went to the back to change, Bucky went to the host stand and figured out who was his next table.

“Whatcha got for me, witchy woman?” he leaned against the stand. Wanda gave him a quick glance.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” she sighed, looking back down at the list.

“It’s not my fault you got witch eyes. And I never said that was a bad thing,” Bucky said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah whatever,” she rolled her amber eyes. “You’re gonna love this one. A Wall Street investment heiress, with some famous friends,” she gave him an unimpressed look.

“An heiress, huh? Well maybe she’ll be my next sugar mama,” he joked, giving her a wink as he adjusted his apron.

“You wouldn’t know how to be a sugar baby even if you tried,” she sassed back at him. “Table 42. She’s all yours.”

“Thanks babes,” he sing-songed at her before heading towards his section. As he approached table 42 he tried to see who the heiress was, but she was unfortunately facing away from him. Her friends, though, he easily recognized from some of the most recent films that had just hit theaters: Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov. Jackpot, he thought with a wry smile.

“Good evening, folks, welcome to Marea. My name is Bucky and I’ll be your server tonight. Could I get you started with some drinks? Or a review of our wine list?” He gave them all a friendly smile as he looked each of them in the eye at least once. The actors gave him quick smiles and glances before ordering generic wines and waters, then the heiress caught his eye. He almost did a double take once he realized who she was. Y/N Y/L/N, the daughter of Wall Street Tycoon Gerald Y/L/N. She was set for life and beyond. Her father was the investment king, knowing just when to buy in or sell out. She had taken on his legacy by doing the same but instead of investing in huge corporations she was investing in smaller businesses and projects, being the key investor until the business could truly thrive, giving her investment a return and getting a chance to grow in an area like New York City. She was the reason the new burlesque club opened that Steve was going to with Peggy. Not only was she wealthy, she was beautiful. Short in stature and plus size, she was an anomaly surrounded by her tall and slim friends, but she embraced her size and used it as a way to both literally and figuratively take up space in the industry and bring attention to the issues of body image, fatphobia, and investing in plus size companies and designers who she exclusively worked with for clothing her for events.

Bucky tried not to ogle and quickly gave her his best flirtatious smile. “And for you?” he asked her.

Y/N gave him an appreciative smile and her bright Y/C/E eyes seemed to really look at him rather than a passing glance like her friends. “I’d like to hear the wine menu, please.”

“Wonderful, we have a…” As he listed off the wines Y/N watched him intently, her eyes searching his face. He felt like he was the one being ogled and yet he persevered, trying not to sound nervous while serving some of the most influential and popular people in the world.

“It all sounds delicious, but I’m a creature of habit, so I think I’ll stick with my favorite Rose, the Billecart-Salmon. And I’ll also have water on the side.”

“Excellent choice, ma’am. Give me a moment and I’ll get those drinks out to you all,” he glanced at them all again before slipping away to the bar for the drinks.

Y/N watched him leave, a small smile on her face, before turning back to her friends. They eyed her ruefully with mischievous smiles. “What?” she asked.

“He’s cute,” Natasha commented, one eyebrow raised at her.

“Very cute. One could even say hot,” Clint added, watching Bucky walk back to the bar. “He’s got a great ass. Too bad he’s working here. He’d look divine in a Prada campaign.”

“You two stop it,” Y/N whispered, giving them a wide eyed glare. “Yes he’s cute.”

“You gonna go for it?” Natasha asked, her grin twisting into something conspiratorial.

“Oh do it! If you won’t, I’ll try my luck,” Clint shifted in his seat as he continued watching Bucky. “See if he goes both ways.”

Bucky was walking back with the drinks on a tray. Y/N narrowed her eyes and made the gesture for them to zip it.

“Alright, here are your drinks! Your waters, and the Sauvignon blanc for you,” he set it in front of Clint, “the Stella Artois for you,” he set it in front of Natasha, “and the Billecart-Salmon Rose for you.” He delicately set it in front of Y/N giving her another warm smile. She reciprocated it as she reached for her wine. She took a quick sip and her eyes fluttered shut.

“Perfect, thank you Bucky,” she said as she licked her lips.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly before he caught himself. “Well, would you like to start with any appetizers? Or jump right into the good stuff?” he huffed a laugh.

“I’d like the lobster with the salad,” Clint ordered. “And could you make sure that the lobster is really big and thick. I like them meaty.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at him and his not-so-subtle innuendo. Bucky knew what he was doing and just let it slide, nodding in agreement. “I’ll put in a good word with the chef.”

Natasha next to him giggled before ordering. “I’ll just take the scallops and shrimp.”

Bucky nodded before turning to Y/N. “I’ll have the crab cakes and risotto, please.” He nodded again and gave her a smirk.

“My favorite,” he gave her a wink, making her blush. “I’ll get those in and come back to check on you all in a little bit,” he swept the table with a smile before walking back to the kitchen.

“Stop it, don’t embarrass him,” Y/N chastised Clint. “I’m sure he and the other servers get enough grief from creepy patrons all the time.”

“Oh it was just a little fun. Besides, he’s all eyes for you, honey, he barely even looked at me,” he shot back at her as he sipped his wine.

“It’s true,” Natasha said, then gave her an exaggerated wink. Y/N rolled her eyes. “I think you should ask him out. Or maybe he can be your next sugar baby.”

“Oh don’t bring that up again,” Y/N groaned. “It was a one time thing and ended badly. I just wanted to try it.”

“It ended badly because he was an ass, not because of anything you did. You gave him charity and he gave you an attitude. This guy seems sweet, nothing can hurt from just asking,” Natasha chided her, reaching out and pinching Y/N’s arm lightly.

Y/N considered her words. She had wanted to try out the lifestyle of being a sugar mama to a sugar baby. She had a lot of events to go to throughout the year, and as much as she enjoyed spending time with her friends and networking with people, she was getting really tired of these high-class, ridiculous men who thought that just by being famous or wealthy that she would throw herself at them. They wanted to use her for her name and connections. They never really cared about her. So she had tried being a sugar mama to a man who wasn’t famous, down on his luck, and just trying to get a leg up in life to escort her to these functions and give her companionship. But once he’d gotten his debts paid off by her and a taste of luxury he quickly became influenced by the rich douchebags around him and started treating Y/N disrespectfully, so much so that he’d made front page news of some tabloids and embarrassed her. She kicked him out after that and blacklisted him from any upcoming events. If there was one thing that she would never condone it was when others tried, directly or indirectly, to humiliate or embarrass her.

Bucky did seem nice, and very tired. The dark circles under his eyes and his shirt not being as ironed as some of the other servers were small giveaways that he was struggling. She didn’t want to embarrass him either by asking to be her sugar baby and assuming that he was struggling financially.

“He is very handsome,” she conceded, a larger smile spreading across her face.

Natasha squealed, clapping her hands joyfully. “Do it!”

The night dragged on as they ate their delicious meals and ordered more glasses of wine. Other patrons were clearing out as it got later and closer to closing time. As tired as Bucky was, doing his nightly closing duties quietly and discreetly so his table couldn’t see, he was banking on their tips. High end restaurants meant high end clients meant high end tips, and he had rent coming due next week. He packed on the compliments to Y/N and her friends, gave them warm and flirty smiles, offered complimentary items, and gave all his attention to them exclusively. Y/N had asked to compliment the chef and when he came out and talked to her table she whispered something to him that he quickly agreed to and jogged back to the kitchen. Bucky gave him a questioning glance but the chef waved him off.

Bucky watched carefully until he saw Y/N’s hand raise and her eyes searched for him. His cue for the check, which he quickly grabbed and brought it over to her. As he glanced at the insane price he noticed an extra meal that wasn’t supposed to be on there as he got to the table.

“Oh, I’m sorry Miss Y/L/N, there seems to be a mistake on the bill, I apologize, let me go–”

“No mistake, Bucky,” Y/N reassured him just as the chef came back out with a doggy box. He handed it to her and thanked her for coming. Y/N shook his hand and slipped something into it before he disappeared back to the kitchen wearing a rare smile. “Thank you,” she reached for the bill and slid her black American Express into the folder.

“Oh, alright, I’ll be right back then,” Bucky composed himself after the mini heart attack he just had from thinking the bill was wrong as he walked back to the stand to take her payment. Once everything was paid he brought back the folder, this time seeing her friends standing and putting on their coats while she stayed seated.

“Thank you, Bucky,” Natasha said his name seductively as she passed him. Clint gave him a little wave and a smirk as he left with her.

“Have a good night!” He called after them. He approached the table as Y/N was opening her wallet. “Here’s the receipt Miss Y/L/N. Thank you for coming in tonight.”

“No thank you for such excellent service, Bucky,” she complimented him as she took the folder again. “Will you sit with me for a moment?”

Bucky’s eyebrows raised and he glanced back at the bar. The manager, Pietro, and Wanda motioned to him to do as she asked. “Yes, of course,” Bucky accepted and sat himself in the chair across from her where Clint sat previously.

Her gaze flicked over him as she opened the folder, took the pen provided and filled out the parts of the receipt meant for her. She closed it and slid it over to Bucky who thanked her and placed it in front of himself.

“I have a proposition for you, Bucky. And please understand when I ask this that you are under no obligation to accept it and I don’t mean to embarrass you,” she started, looking a little nervous.

“Okay,” Bucky stated lamely as he watched her.

Y/N cleared her throat and put her fidgeting hands down in her lap. “I would like to offer you a type of job. As an escort, a sugar baby, to me.” Bucky’s eyes widened comically as he processed what she said. “I know it’s a strange request. But it’s something that I enjoy trying and it helps others…sometimes. I don’t want to assume anything of you, but I can tell when someone is struggling, and you look like life has not always been the easiest or kindest to you. I mean no offense.”

“None taken,” he replied automatically. “I…yes,” he looked down as he confessed to her. “It’s been, uh, rough, to say the least.”

“Hm,” Y/N hummed. She reached a finger out and pointed to the closed folder. She gestured for him to open it. He did and took a look over the receipt, nearly choking when he saw the amount on the tip line.

“No, no Miss Y/L/N, this is too much,” Bucky protested as he stared at the number.

“That’s what your service was worth. You are worth every cent, and more,” Y/N praised him. “You don’t have to decide tonight, Bucky, but in the meantime, here’s my card,” she slipped a business card over to him. “Think about it,” she said as she stood up. Bucky quickly stood up with her. Y/N stepped closer to him and reached for his hand. They shook hands and she leaned in and whispered to him, “By the way, you’re very handsome.” Bucky’s eyes bulged and he swallowed hard as she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek then turned and left. Bucky realized as he watched her leave that she had slipped something into his hand. He opened his hand to find a small folded wad of one hundred dollar bills in his palm. “Oh and that’s for you!” She called out and motioned towards the doggy box still sitting on the table. “Your favorite. Dinner’s on me,” she said and gave him a wink then twirled back around and out the door.

After she was out of the restaurant and beyond hearing Wanda and Pietro ran up to him. “How much did she give you?” Wanda squealed as she looked at the bills in his hand. He quickly counted it.

“$1000,” he whispered as he gawked at the money.

“Give me that,” Pietro demanded as he took the folder from Bucky. He opened it and gasped. “She gave you a $2500 card tip?? What did you do, Barnes, give her and everybody at her table a blow job?”

“Wow…I don’t know if I want to be her or be on her,” Wanda said wistfully as she looked back out the glass door where Y/N had already gotten into her car and drove off.

Bucky felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he stared at the bills, the $2500 floating around in his mind. He was not comprehending just how much she had given him. He looked at her business card again and knew he had to at least meet with her and find out what she was offering. But to become an actual sugar baby? To have a sugar mama? To have his debt disappear? To be taken care of? He smiled as his fingers touched where her lips had been.

**this picture has me SALIVATING. This is what I imagine sugar baby!Bucky to look like in this. Hope y'all like it!**

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #sugarbaby!bucky barnes #sugarbaby #sugar mama #sugarmama!reader #chapter 1 #curvy reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader

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