#on how much fucking money i have left over

[holylulusworld]

How to cure a grump (3)

Summary: You’re losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, grumpy Bucky, awful boss, mistaken identity, kinda fake dating trope, snowed-in trope

How to cure a grump (2)

Tonight, you don’t get much sleep. You toss and turn in your bed, knowing your boss, the man costing you your job and future, is sleeping right next door.

How dare he come here to demand shit from you after kicking you out two days before Christmas! Mr. Rogers knew about the password and PIN. He could’ve easily told your boss about it.

“Wait! That bastard!” You sit up on your bed and curse loudly. They are friends. Maybe this is some sick game they are playing. “I won’t be the butt of their jokes!”

When you get out of bed, you push your feet into the Santa Claus-themed slippers your mom got you for Christmas last year. 

Looking down at your body, you chuckle as the shoes look so different from the high heels you wore for work. They look like Santa's face. They have a white, fluffy beard and mustache. A red Santa hat sits atop each slipper.

“Fuck it,” you mutter and storm toward the door. If Barnes wants to mess with you, he’ll pay for it.

You storm into the guest room without knocking, immediately switching the light on.

“What?” Bucky looks at you like a deer in the headlight. He sits on the bed, in nothing but his boxer briefs. While you try not to stare at his abs, muscular arms, or the prominent bulge in his pants, he’s less subtle.

Bucky looks you up and down in your red and white Christmas-themed pajama set. “Are you often wearing onesies?” He snorts. Bucky never spent time with a woman wearing anything but silky nightgowns, or only a smile for bed.

You’re wearing a long-sleeved pajamas onesie style, featuring a fair isle pattern with elves, snowmen, and Christmas trees on a red background with white accents.

You huff. “I didn’t know you hold power over me in the bedroom too. It’s soft and plush, and I don’t give a shit if you like it or not. I want to know why you are here! Is this a trick? Do you and Rogers want to make fun of me?”

“Rogers must’ve forgotten you left the password,” Bucky grunts while wildly gesturing toward you. “I talked to him, and he didn’t mention it. If I knew about it, I wouldn’t have come here to spend the night at a guestroom in the middle of nowhere instead of getting drunk on Barbados, two hot blondes in my arms.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Figures,” you huff. “I’ll call Walt. Maybe, he can help us get you to the airport so you can leave all the little ants working for you behind to spend an annual salary on your vacation!”

“Not my annual salary,” he dares to say. Bucky even smirks, and you lose your temper again. Right when he gets up from the bed to grab his pants, you jump into motion and tackle him to the ground. He yelps as you slap him across the face, once, twice, three times.

Bucky grabs your wrists in an attempt to stop you from hurting him.

“Munchkin is everything—” Your mother chuckles as she watches you sit on top of Bucky. “Oh, kids, I’m sorry. If only I knew you’re celebrating your reunion!” She closes the door behind her, leaving you and Bucky to your fight.

“Tomorrow morning you are gone, bastard,” you growl. “Now let go of me before I castrate you.”

He smirks. “Your mom believed we were having sex. Did you keep her awake often while you were still living here?”

“Says the man whore,” you wiggle in his grip, snarling as he won’t let go. “I’m not the one with an endless stream of women leaving my bedroom.”

“Not only my bedroom.” He still smirks when he finally releases your wrists.

You hurriedly get up and glare at him.

“I don’t care. In the morning, you’ll find a way to get out of my house, and my town. Use your money for something useful for once. And don’t contact me again! You are dead to me”

Slamming the door shut behind you, you huff. How can women fall for your asshole boss? You can’t believe they only see his pretty façade.

“Morning, lovebirds,” your mother chirps as you make your way into the kitchen. She’s humming Last Christmas while you are in a sour mood. Bucky Barnes has this effect on you. “Oh, where’s James?”

You take a deep breath, ready to tell your mother the truth. This is a serious case of mistaken identity. “Mom, uh—do you remember that I told you my boyfriend broke things up with me some time ago?”

“Of course, Munchkin,” she coos while flipping a pancake. “I’m all for second chances, Y/N. Maybe he finally realized how much you mean to him. But—” She points a knife in Bucky’s direction the moment he steps into the kitchen. “If he messes up again, I’ll castrate him!”

“Like mother, like daughter,” Bucky grumbles as he steps further into the room. “Good morning. Please don’t start the new day by castrating me.” He flashes your mom a stunning smile, earning a giggle.

“Oh, I was joking, James,” she says and goes back to preparing breakfast for a whole football team. “What do you like for breakfast? We have waffles, pancakes, bacon, and eggs, or French toast.”

“I usually only eat egg white.” Bucky pats his stomach, rubbing it. “I try to stay fit.”

“For the ladies,” you sarcastically say. “Mom, he won’t stay for breakfast. James will leave now and try to get a flight back to New York.”

“What? No! He must stay for breakfast,” she sniffles and uses her powerful puppy dog look to make your resolve to kick your former boss out crumble. “What about the Christmas dinner? I already planned everything. I was awake all night!”

“Mom,” you sigh. “He needs to take care of business.” It’s not a complete lie. Bucky wants to take care of a few things back in New York. “Do you think we can make it to the airport?”

“No,” she pouts before taking a large bite from one of the waffles. You watch her chew slowly before speaking again. “The streets aren’t the only problem. Maybe we could make it to the airport with your dad’s old truck, but the airport is closed.”

“I got a private jet,” Bucky throws in, earning an angry look from you. Of course, that rich bastard has a private jet.

“James, no plane will take off today, or for the next days. Not even a private jet,” your mother points out. “If you’d excuse me now, I must pick up a few things for Christmas.”

“Mom, what about the snow?” You hate to see her sad face. “Do you want me to get what you need? I was always the better driver.”

“Your dad was the best driver—” She stiffens, and you can see grief flash up in her eyes. No matter how long he’s gone, she’ll always miss your dad. “He taught me everything.”

“I know,” you murmur and hold out your hand to squeeze hers tightly. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“Yeah.” She nods while struggling to hold back a sob. “I forgot to add a few things to my Christmas list. The streets should be free for now. We should hurry before more snow will keep us from leaving.”

Much to your dismay, Bucky decided to join you on your shopping tour. His pilot told him there was not a chance to get back to New York anytime soon. Now he needs a place to stay over the holidays and boots. It’s too damn cold to wear slippers.

“Over there you can buy boots,” you say, and point at the only shop in town selling warm boots. “I’ll get the things on the list, Mom. You can wait here.”

“Alright, Munchkin,” your mom says while watching Bucky look at you, brows furrowed. He dips his head to watch you storm off. “Don’t take it to heart, James. Christmas was always hard for Y/N since her dad passed away, and John left her for some other girl.”

“John, huh?” Bucky asks as you are busy buying everything your mom has on her list. “What happened?”

“It’s not my place to tell you, James. All I can say is that they wanted to marry the next spring and John decided to cheat.” She huffs. “Y/N moved across the county to get away from him, their business, and the girl he chose over her.”

“Their business?” Bucky presses on. “What kind of business?”

“Oh, nothing special. They—” Your mother gasps loudly as John steps toward you at your aunt’s bakery. “No, no! This will ruin Christmas for Y/N!”

“What?” Bucky follows your mother’s eyes, seeing you stiffen as John stands in front of you to chat you up. “That him?”

“Yes, I must stop him from hurting her!”

“Leave this to me.” Your mother smirks when Bucky enters the bakery. She even chuckles as John’s fiancé watches your former boss walk toward you.

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t know what came over him until he shoves John out of his way to cup your face and kiss you fiercely.

You whimper against Bucky's warm and plump lips. It's been a while since someone kissed you, and this kiss is on top of your list.

“Dude, excuse me! We were talking,” John grunts as Bucky and you part. You stare at Bucky, unsure what to do. “Hey! This is not the place to make out!”

“What?” Bucky turns around to smirk at John. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there. I was missing my fiancé, is all.”

“Fiancé?” John hiccups as you are too stunned to react. What just happened? Why did your former boss kiss you? Why is John here?

“Yes, fiancé. And I’d appreciate it if you stopped distracting her. Her mom is waiting outside, and it’s damn cold. We don’t want this lovely lady to get sick, don’t we.”

“Sure, sure,” John awkwardly stammers. “It was nice seeing you, Y/N. Have a good Christmas.” John and the woman he chose over you leave the bakery in a hurry.

You’re still shell-shocked and just watch them leave. What else can you do? If you slap Bucky’s face now, John knows this was all just play pretend.

Meanwhile, your mother stands outside the bakery, smiling to herself as Bucky nervously rubs the back of his neck.

More tags in reblog.

How to cure a grump@cjand10, @nofingjustaninchident, @pettyjayy, @pattiemac1, @formulas-bitch, @winchestert101, @greatmistakes, @mrsnikstan, @jokersqueenofchaos

[hhmnya]

ㅤ ꢾ꣒ㅤㅤ SECRET SANTA──PSH.

resumen ｡｡ he gives you a second gift.

( 성훈 ) femreader ㅤㅤ✦ㅤㅤ 619wc implied friends to lovers ㅤ──ㅤ w not proofread

you step outside of jake's apartment building, pulling your coat tighter around you once the cold air hits your face. you stand on the curb, waiting for your uber as you stare up at the sky.

secret santa: a classic christmas game, one that your friends decided to do before you all left to your hometowns. you had gotten yeojin, buying her a weighted blanket. eventually you were the last one without torn up wrapping paper around your area and the only person yet to give a gift was sunghoon.

he handed you a small box, wrapped so pretty that you almost didn't want to tear the paper. you did, though, and inside was a bracelet. which you immediately recognized as an expensive necklace, definitely not within the fifty dollar budget the group had decided on.

a smile takes over your face when you remember the shy look sunghoon had given you, his cheeks flushed red while your friends scolded him for buying something out of budget.

"you're not cold?" you turn towards the voice, flinching out of surprise. you glance up and glare at the man standing next to you.

"oh my god, you scared the fuck out of me," he laughs, backing away as you hit his shoulder. regretting the action, you stuff your hands back into your coat pockets to warm them up and mumble quietly, "you're actually awful, sunghoon."

"i'm not that bad. i spoiled you today."

you tilt your head in confusion before you smile in realization, "oh, you did. it's pretty, by the way. thank you."

he hums, letting the conversation die out. the two of you stand silently in the cold, but it's not uncomfortable. that's what you like about sunghoon—he's the kind of person you don't have to be constantly talking to, he provides you with the kind of comfort that hot chocolate does on a snowy day.

"there's a second part to your gift," he says, breaking the silence. he kicks at the ground roughly, avoiding your gaze.

"what do you mean?"

"the necklace isn't the only thing i'm giving you."

"wait—hello? how much did you spend on me?"

"i only spent money on the necklace."

you don’t follow, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. maybe you’re just oblivious, but you have no idea what he's talking about. he's giving you two gifts, but one of them was free? that makes zero sense in your mind.

"i like you," he says it with so much confidence, like it was the most simple and obvious thing in the world. it makes you feel like you should've known this whole time.

you're in a daze and by the time you get a hold of yourself, your uber pulls up, a notification going off on your phone to alert you.

you don't notice—too distracted—when sunghoon glances at the license plate, storing it away in his mind just in case.

"you should go, it's late," he guides you to the car, opening it for you.

well that's just unfair—he's pushing you away, clearly avoiding your reply to his confession. his confidence was obviously an act he put up.

rolling your eyes, you lean up and place a kiss on his cheek. courtesy of the streetlights, you can see sunghoon's cheeks turning redder with every passing second.

"i'll see you next week. maybe we can hang out?" you shift nervously, looking up at him expectantly.

he nods immediately, the biggest grin you've ever seen spreading across his face—he looks like a kid who's just gotten his dream gift.

"yeah, yeah. definitely."

when your uber drives away, you freak out in the most discreet way possible. this was genuinely the best christmas you've had in a long time.

anna's note. happy holidays guys ily all and i especially love hoon :3

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ click4more.

[themultifanshipper]

Can you write a fluffy carcar fic where imagine carlos trying to get oscar into golf? I saw oscar say somewhere that golf is frustrating- but carlos tells him "it's not frustrating, it's about patience" or something like that

He went to the golf course bc lando actually invited him after the wcc and all, and since lando was really insistent and he had time to kill, and he was like sure one afternoon won't hurt. So he goes, there by genuine accident they bump into carlos, and lando didn't think carlos was even back home so he was just as surprised to see him and then carlos ofc joins them but then lando has to leave (how convenient) so oscars suddenly all awkward

BUT THEN CARLOS IS LIKE ITS OK ILL TEACH YOU, ILL MAKE YOU LIKE GOLF

And suddenly oscars all flustered and both of them in their heads are all like "this is nice, omg this is really nice, why is this so nice!?"

Or something along those lines??

Oscar’s mind was going at a million miles an hour.

How he got into this predicament, with Carlos' strong arms wrapped around him while he shivered from the contact, was a mystery.

Warnings: smut, ass eating, inappropriate use of golfing equipment, public sex, kinda wild, i'll be honest there is not much fluff, asking me for fluff is like asking Fernando to retire, it ain't happening.

Lando. This was all Lando's fault.

He'd suggested going out for golf, which he knew Oscar wasn't particularly fond of.

And he was the one that had lost track of time and forgotten that he had a meeting to go to.

He'd also been the one to suggest Carlos join them, after running into the Spaniard by accident.

“It’s december!” he’d said. “We'll be the only ones on the golf course! It'll be fun!” he said. Well that was a fucking lie.

It may not have been high golfing season or whatever, but they ran into two people Lando knew from around Monaco, and Carlos.

The entire situation felt like the setup for a joke, and Oscar felt like he was the absolute butt of it.

Celebrating the WCC? Great idea. Golfing with Lando? Fine, why not. Golfing with Carlos? Not something he wanted to be doing in a million years.

He didn't not like Carlos, but every interaction they'd ever had could be summarised with two words: forced proximity.

Either they came together on track, or they were forced to interact by their mutual friends, namely Lando.

So he wasn't exactly fond of the man, but he tolerated him enough to be civil. And the less time he spent talking to him, the more time he had to check him out from afar.

Bexause he was hot as fuck, Oscar couldn't deny that. He'd caught himself checking his fellow drivers out on multiple occasions, but there were no cameras around now, so he could let his gaze wander a bit more freely.

As soon as Carlos agreed to go along with them, he knew this was going to be a long afternoon.

Golf just wasn't his thing. He’d tried. He'd really tried, he would do anything to please Lando.

But he thought it was a sport for pompous rich pricks who had absolutely nothing better to do with their time and money. He'd never had lessons, and Lando wasn't exactly a great teacher, so his form was shit, and to make matters worse, Lando and Carlos made fun of him for it.

Well excuse him for not growing up fucking rich!

“This is a shit sport!” he raged after missing yet another swing. “I just don’t get why you like it, it's so frustrating!”

Lando was too busy wheezing to reply.

“It is not frustrating, it is about patience. Observe”  Carlos put a ball on his tee, and positioned himself as if he was going to swing.

“You need to shift your weight as you swing, and don't aim for the ball, aim a few inches after the ball. And don't forget the position of your arms, the left one is straight while the right one is at a right angle, otherwise your aim will be all over the place…”

Carlos showed him the movement as he explained it, but Oscar had stopped listening entirely.

His eyes had zoned in on Carlos' arms. He knew the guy was fit, they were athletes after all, but he was absolutely astounded by how fucking enormous Carlos’ biceps were.

They were glistening with sweat under the sunlight as he flexed them. Then his eyes went to Carlos' pecs, which were also flexing, and looked like they were about to pop out of his polo shirt.

He was brought out of his reverie by Lando cursing loudly next to him.

“Shit! Guys I have to run, I completely forgot I have a meeting with my publicist in fifteen minutes!”

He left his stuff with them and sprinted away, promising to be back soon (they both knew he wouldn't, and one of them would inevitably have to drop his stuff off at his apartment).

Oscar was relieved, he could finally be out of this hell hole.

But as he picked up his bag of rented clubs to make his way back to the golf cart, Carlos put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Oh no, Cabrón. We are not done here. I am going to make you a professional if it is the last thing I do.”

Carlos teaching him golf sounded like the last thing he wanted to do, and the older man was smirking infuriatingly, as if torturing Oscar into liking golf was the most fun he could have.

But a part of Oscar was curious. Maybe he could have some fun of his own. He knew Carlos wasn't a particularly patient man. Maybe he could rile Carlos up enough for him to give up.

Making an F1 driver give up on anything was a hard feat, but Oscar liked a challenge.

It was a bit awkward at first, Carlos made him get into position, which he did very wrong on purpose, to try and frustrate Carlos.

But the man didn't even sigh, he just started explaining all about how the handle had to be pointing at his belly button, and his knees needed to be bent, and he needed to twist his shoulders while lifting the club while still looking at the ball, and then he had to-

Oscar had stopped listening again.

While explaining each action, Carlos' hands were moving Oscar's body around like a puppet.

His skin burned wherever Carlos' hands made contact.

And after a while it started getting to him. Carlos' touches were getting rougher, like he was getting sick of explaining and repositioning him over and over again.

But instead of chanting victory, Oscar's brain was slowly frying at the harsh grip Carlos had on his flesh.

They were both sweating in the sun, and Carlos was damp.

He was plastered to Oscar's back, his arms around Oscar's arms, hands gripping the handle over Oscar's hands as he tried his best to explain… whatever it is he was trying to explain.

Oscar’s brain was on one thing only: the hard planes of Carlos' body pressed against his.

The Spaniards breath smelled like the minty gum he'd been chewing earlier, and his mouth was so close to Oscar's cheek he could feel the heat of his breath as he spoke.

He was sweating, and not just from the sun, his body was on fire, and he could feel his blood rushing down from his brain to his nether regions.

Carlos hadn't noticed at first, fully absorbed in his long winded explanation of the subtleties of hip movements to emphasize striking power.

But when he grabbed Oscar's stiff hips to twist and move them the correct way, the younger man gasped out the tiniest of whimpers.

That made Carlos freeze. “Are you okay?”

His hands hadn't moved from Oscar's waist though, and that fact was making his head spin.

Carlos’ eyes followed the movement of Oscar's Adam’s apple as he swallowed before nodding shyly.

The flush creeping up the younger man's neck was enough for Carlos to understand what was happening.

He gave his hips another squeeze. “Oscar…”

The Aussie let out a shaky breath, the way Carlos whispered his name made him close his eyes in embarrassment.

“Yes?” his voice cracked and he closed his eyes, waiting for Carlos to yell at him for being inappropriate, or uninterested in golf, or gay… or something.

But the yelling never came, instead Carlos chuckled darkly and squeezed the flesh of his hips.

“Is my lesson making you too horny to think properly? Pathetic… And ironic given how you seem to be the one trying to distract me with these shorts” he spat, pulling at the hem of the offending shorts, which would be considered indecent to anyone who wasn't Oscar.

But Oscar had a habit of not realising how he looked, and today Carlos was having trouble not ogling his body.

Carlos’ hand barely brushed his bulge, and Oscar whimpered again, looking down to see just how tented his shorts were.

He had no idea he felt this way about Carlos, but here he was, hard as a rock and secretly wishing that Carlos would touch him more.

“Maybe I need to teach you some discipline before you can learn to play properly…”

Carlos nosed at the back of his sweaty neck, pulling his hips back against his own.

Oscar gasped when he felt the hard press of Carlos' cock through his shorts.

“Do not worry, I can teach you everything you need to know” he growled into Oscar's skin, hand sliding around to cup Oscar over his shorts.

That's how Oscar ended up pressed against the front of the golf cart, leaning on his elbows, and doing his best to stay quiet as Carlos ripped his shorts down his legs.

“If I didn't know any better, I would think you were hoping this would happen, given how slutty these shorts are.”

Oscar wanted to protest. They were practical! It was 25 degrees out and excuse him for not wanting to wear fucking chinos to golf.

“They're not sl-” he tried to argue but Carlos landed a harsh spank to the back of his thigh.

He yelped but Carlos scolded him.

“First lesson, no arguing with the teacher.”

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of Oscar's boxers and peeled them off, groaning at the plumpness of the flesh in front of him.

“My god, it's a miracle your ass fits in those shorts at all…” Oscar blushed at the compliment, he knew what his body looked like, he knew he was gifted in that department, but Carlos praising him was turning his brain to mush.

He let out a surprised half-moan half-whine when Carlos spread his cheeks and spat, right on his twitching hole.

The act was so dirty, they were out in the open but Oscar no longer cared, he needed more.

He could feel the cool material of Carlos' leather glove against his overheated skin.

Carlos rubbed the pad of his thumb over Oscar's slick rim, making him keen.

“Lesson two: you have to be quiet or we are going to get caught. Do you want this to be our last lesson?”

Oscar was trembling with need, and his legs were seconds away from giving out if Carlos didn't get on with it soon.

“No! Please…” he whined pathetically and Carlos laughed.

He crouched behind down, spreading Oscar open.

“Then keep your mouth shut”

He licked a stripe from his balls up to his crack, and it took everything Oscar had in him not to moan.

“Good boy” Carlos praised, and dove in, licking and prodding at his tight rim.

Oscar could feel the strong wet muscle opening him up, it was obscene.

He bit his hand to avoid making a noise , he didn't really care about being kicked off the course, but he would rather avoid getting caught, with Carlos of all people. He'd never hear the end of it.

The repetitive feeling of Carlos' tongue breaching him had him gasping into his hand.

He pushed his hips back, his back arching as he fucked himself on Carlos' tongue, and the older man moaned at how quickly Oscar's body was betraying his need to be fucked.

He pulled away to suck a couple of fingers into his mouth, wetting them thoroughly before pressing them into Oscar's slick hole.

Oscar was on fire. Carlos was using his gloved fingers to open him up, and the slick leather sliding into him made him want to rip his own hair out.

Carlos stood up and put a hand on Oscar's lower back to make him arch more, which he did gladly.

Carlos was surprised at how needy Oscar was under him, writhing and gasping every time his fingers brushed his prostate.

Suddenly he had an idea on how to keep Oscar's mouth occupied.

He reached into his pocket, where he had one of those extra large golf balls used for training, and tapped it against Oscar's lower lip.

“Open up, Oscar. You can suck on this to stop yourself making too much noise” and Oscar opened his mouth immediately and stuck out his tongue, taking the ball in his mouth almost too eagerly.

He was submitting beautifully, and Carlos had to unbutton his pants and pull them down, just to take some pressure off his now aching cock.

Once he deemed Oscar ready, he spit on his hand, slicking himself up and pushed in slowly.

Oscar couldn’t hold it in anymore, despite the ball gag, he moaned loud.

“Shit” Carlos hissed, slapping a hand over Oscar's mouth. “You need to be quiet”

Oscar was unable to respond, he was too busy drooling over how well Carlos' cock was stretching him out.

So Carlos took the ball out, accidentally shifting his hips which made Oscar’s eyes roll back and he let out a high pitched squeak.

Carlos then took his glove off, baled it up and shoved it into Oscar's mouth.

He then thrust into him hard enough to make him moan loudly again, and was satisfied when the glove successfully muffled the noise.

Or at least enough so that they couldn't be heard within a few hundred feet.

He kicked Oscars feet apart to spread him further, and slammed into him again.

Oscar was sure he could feel Carlos all the way up to his fucking throat with how deep he was inside him.

The sound of Carlos' hips slapping against Oscar's plump flesh made the two men wild as their bodies made contact over and over again, pushing and pulling against each other.

Oscar was doing his best to push back against the onslaught of Carlos' savage thrusts, but his body was slowly giving up on him.

His knees buckled, and Carlos wrapped his arms around him, pushing him harder against the now searing metal of the front of the cart.

He reached a hand down to wrap around Oscar's leaking cock, squeezing rythmically with each thrust and Oscar was a goner, he came with a muffled wail, painting Carlos' hand white, along with the front of the cart.

Carlos followed quickly after, hips stuttering as he filled the younger driver up, biting his lip to muffle his deep groan.

After a few seconds of trying to regain his sanity, he pulled his glove out of Oscars mouth and pulled his softening cock out of him.

Oscar sighed, leaning his head against the surface with his eyes closed in bliss.

He didn't register Carlos moving around until he felt him lick up the cum that was seeping out of his used hole.

He jolted, gasping as Carlos cleaned him up, lapping up his own cum and overstimulating Oscar to the point where he started wriggling and the Spaniard had to hold him in place.

The lewd slurping sounds were almost humiliating, and he was suddenly acutely aware of how exposed he was.

But that just served to turn him on again, and if Carlos had carried on for much longer, he would have definitely been up for another round.

Thankfully though, he soon deemed Oscar cleaned up of his cum, and helped him pull his underwear and those goddamn shorts back up.

He turned Oscar around and grabbed the back of his neck to press their lips together in a kiss that very quickly turned filthy and they made out for a few minutes, until they were in desperate need of air.

As they panted into each other's mouths, Carlos grinned.

“Rule number three: one lesson is never enough”

Needless to say, Oscar got a membership at that club. And he met up with Carlos every week for lessons, which they did not invite Lando to.

 Lando found that a bit strange, but he wasn't going to complain, he was just happy his two friends were finally getting along.

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 || read on AO3

summary: Reader goes on a beach vacation with Joel after her father breaks his leg. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, sexual tension, blow jobs, smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair (will add more as I add more parts)

note: The devil works fast but I work faster. New multi chapter smut fic inspired by those damn new Pedro pics in the works…enjoy part 1! I haven't planned all of the smut scenes, so if you have any requests for specific kinks/scenes, do let me know!

He’s dead fucking wrong. You love your father, enough to not immediately say no, but he’s wrong. It’s true you could use a girls’ trip, perhaps even a couple of days out of town with your Dad, and he’s not entirely off about university being the death of you, kiddo – you’ve spent one too many nights inhaling coffee and cramming for your finals. The idea of an all-inclusive trip is tempting, given the fact that all you manage to eat these days is pasta and store-bought pesto, if that.

Nevertheless, you need to keep studying, there’s less than two weeks left until your exams, and although the trip is only a couple of days, you don’t know Joel.

Sure, you’ve been to his barbecues, and he let you use his bike one year when yours was stolen and your Dad refused to buy you a new one, because you should have locked it up in the first place. You know how he patched up your Dad after the divorce – you never worried about your mother, who was heartbroken, but able to talk about it to her family and friends. Your Dad was the one you spent sleepless nights over. The way the beer bottles accumulated in his garage, how distant he seemed on the phone. You know it was Joel who looked after him, made sure he left the house and had anything edible inside it. You’re grateful for it, you are, but you don’t really know him. For most of your life, he has been a friendly smile and wave over a fence, and you’re shy around people you know much better than the occasional hey kid, you back for the summer? or if you see your Dad, tell him I borrowed his screwdriver, I’ll put it back tomorrow.

You do feel slightly guilty your Dad can’t go on his trip. He broke his leg, and although it’s not entirely your fault he slipped, you had been the one to mop the stairs right before the accident. As much as your Dad was looking forward to his vacation, after a week he had to admit a beach holiday would be little fun with a whole leg in plaster.

You sigh, staring at your phone screen, tapping on it every once in a while to keep it from turning black. He’s expecting an answer soon, you know he is. Who the hell books non-refundable trips anyway? When you get the time, you’ll need to tell him about a lovely invention that is insurance.

You glance over at the stack of unfinished coursework on your desk, your laptop taunting you with its quiet – no responses to the millions of job applications you have sent out have come through. At this rate, you’ll be jobless in a couple of months, when you finish your degree. You’ll have to live with either of your parents forever, no money for any sort of vacation whatsoever.

"Oh, screw it,“ you mutter, unlocking your phone, and typing quickly.

I’ll do it. Only because my A+ cleaning is the reason you can’t go. Tell Joel to bring something to read, I need to study.

***

"It’d be a shame if it went to waste, kiddo, I’m glad you’re doing this.“

"Yeah,“ you answer, thinking of the endless powerpoint slides you haven’t even looked at yet. "Maybe studying at the beach works wonders.“

There’s a knock on the door, and you move to open it, your Dad chained to his chair by his broken leg. You’re not particularly excited about the smalltalk you’ll have to make with your Dad’s friend, but if you remember correctly, Joel is as much the quiet type as you are, and might actually appreciate your studying. Great, you think, at least one of us will enjoy it, then.

When you open the door, the first thing that strikes you is how hard you find it to envision Joel at the beach – he’s all mountains and trees to you, with his lumberjack boots and flannel shirt. His smile is friendly, and only gains warmth when he notices the critical look you give his outfit.

"I know,“ he says, voice deep and quiet, "I’m king of dressing for the occasion.“

You grin, and open the door wider.

"Come on in. Dad’s in the living room. What’s with the…uh…“

Your voice trails off, as you gesture towards his distinctly un-vacationy clothes.

"Thought you might bail,“ Joel answers easily, stepping into the house. "Can’t imagine you’re overly thrilled about this.“

You think about denying it, but this is your chance to come clean about how you would much prefer keeping to yourself and preparing for your finals, so you sigh.

"Well, it’s kinda my fault Dad was, like, almost paralyzed from the neck down, so I figured the least I could do was not let his trip go to waste. I’ve got finals in two weeks, so the timing is…suboptimal.“

"Yeah, your Dad said. I brought reading material, so I won’t bother you too much.“

He’s easy, you realize. Easy to talk to, and easy to accept your reluctance to bond with an almost-stranger, quick to make you feel comfortable by hinting at that boundary. You smile back, and are struck by how he holds your eye contact until you break it yourself, nodding towards your suitcase.

"Think this will fit inside the car?“

"Sure,“ he answers, "I’ve got a Bronco.“

You have no idea what that means, but you assume it’s a good thing, so you smile vaguely.

"It’s an SUV,“ Joel explains with a hint of good-natured amusement in his voice.

"Right,“ you say, attempting to overplay your obvious lack in car-knowledge, "SUV. One of the big ones.“

It makes Joel smile again, and you notice the wrinkles around his eyes that make his face look all sunny. 

"Yeah,“ he says. "One of the big ones.“

You lead him into the living room to say good-bye to your Dad, who’s expression is a weird mixture of sombre and excited at the sight of his daughter and best friend getting ready to drive to the airport.

"Take care of her, Joel,“ he says, when you’re getting ready to leave.

"Don’t worry,“ Joel answers with a pat to your father’s arm. "I’ve got her.“

"I’m twenty-three,“ you remind your father, "I’ve done more dangerous things than a trip to the beach.“

"Yeah, but you’re still my little girl,“ he answers with a smile, squeezing your hand. You squeeze back, though his comment irritates you.

"See ya, Dad. Call me if something’s wrong with your leg, alright?“

"Sure, kiddo. Have fun, you two, and bring me a seashell.“

Joel grins at the open envy on your Dad’s face.

"We’ll go on another trip next year,“ he says in an attempt to cheer him up.

"Yeah, yeah,“ your Dad answers, glancing at his watch. "Better get going, or you’ll miss the flight.“

"We’ll be fine, Joel’s got a fast car,“ you argue, "A Bronco. That’s an SUV.“

Joel snorts.

***

Joel lets you take the window seat and plops down next to you, legs slightly spread so as to fit into the little space the two of you have. His leg nudges yours, and he pulls it back immediately, though you can see how uncomfortable it must be with his knees pressing into the seat in front of him. You move your legs towards the window with a glance at Joel, who looks grateful and is able to relax his muscles into a more comfortable position without invading your space.

"Thanks,“ he mutters, "Fucking hate flying.“

So do you, though not because you’re too big to fit into the space, and not because you’re afraid – mostly because it’s boring. Sure, takeoff is exciting, but you get nauseous from watching movies and the plane is much too loud to really enjoy your music the way you would lying on your bed at home. You could study, you suppose, but you tell yourself you wouldn’t be able to concentrate and kick your backpack further under your seat. Joel notices and chuckles.

"Finals, huh? You almost done with your degree?“

You can’t imagine him finding your boring university struggles interesting, but you’re not exactly fantastic at smalltalk, so you take the conversation he’s offering you.

"I’ve got one more year, but I’ve got to do a six month internship, and write my thesis, so yeah, this is, like, the last of my regular classes and exams.“

"You enjoy it?“

The question is strikingly honest, like he really wants to know, like it’s fine if you don’t. You look at him, his eyes already on your face, and for a second you think how handsome he is. You didn’t notice before, when he was just the owner of a bike you could conveniently borrow, when life was all skinned knees and staying up till sun-down. Now, he looks like an equal, like someone who wants to know about your life, someone you want to know about yourself. The change is a little unsettling, but thrilling. You realize you haven’t answered him, so you clear your throat.

"Sure, it’s alright. Not what I would have done if money didn’t matter, but it does, so…I can be content with it.“

Joel considers this, eyes still lingering on your face, as the plane starts speeding up for takeoff.

"What would you do if money didn’t matter?“

You shrug, and smile to yourself.

"Creative writing, maybe. Or English lit.“

"You always were the smart one in your family,“ Joel answers with a chuckle.

You glance at him, and feel a pang of something warm in your stomach as he compliments you. When the plane takes off, you look out of the window, but get the feeling Joel’s eyes keep looking at you. It makes your skin prickle, though not at all unpleasantly.

***

You get to the hotel when the sun is high in the sky, burning the top of your head and making you long for a shower and an ice-cold coke. Joel courteously carries your suitcase and although you don’t want to inconvenience him, you don’t mind the way his muscles bulge under the weight, arms straining against the navy shirt he had underneath his flannel. You wonder how he’s not suffocating in the heat, wearing his thick jeans and boots.

When you get to the front desk, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, searching for his reservation details with furrowed brows. You smile when you notice he uses two hands to scroll. It takes him a couple of minutes, cursing under his breath, and you smile at the lady, who smiles back, patiently waiting for Joel to find the right email.

"Sorry,“ you say to her, and try to catch a glimpse at Joel’s phone, so as to figure out what’s taking him so long. "Need some help?“

He throws you an offended look that makes you grin, and finally shows the lady his phone. She smiles, types something into her computer and gets out two room keys.

"Go easy on your Daddy, it’s easier when you grew up with the internet,“ she says, handing you each a keycard. You feel Joel stiffen beside you, and your stomach flutters.

"Here’s your keycards, you’re on the third floor. Enjoy your stay!“

"Thanks,“ Joel mumbles, taking the cards and handing them to you, before grabbing the two suitcases. He huffs, when you walk around a corner and towards the elevators.

"She was makin’ fun of me,“ he says accusingly when the lady is out of earshot, as if that would be your fault. You snort, all of a sudden feeling giddy at the prospect of being at the beach soon, your holiday only a couple of minutes away.

"I don’t think so, she was trying to help you by blaming your incompetence on your age,“ you say, Joel looking at you like he can’t believe what you said.

"Sorry.“ Your voice is quivering with amusement at how offended he is. "Daddy.“

That makes him clear his throat, and if your eyes aren’t playing a trick on you, his cheeks turn a shade darker. Bingo.

"Don’t say shit like that,“ Joel grumbles, "’M not that old.“

"How old are you, then?“

"Why?“, he asks, eyes meeting yours, and suddenly you’re the one blushing, your stomach swirling with something you definitely should not be feeling for your Dad’s best friend. Joel shakes his head. "Don’t start something neither of us can finish, kid.“

It’s just an offhand-comment about the way you jokingly flirted, but you feel all bashful all of a sudden. His mention of there being something to potentially start, the fact that the possibility even crossed his mind…when you look up at him again and watch him press a button on the elevator, you study the grey patches in his beard, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches as you’re waiting, his thick fingers drumming against the handle of his suitcase. It’s not what you expected to happen, but Joel’s got you intrigued.

***

You both agree to take a shower, get settled in and meet outside the rooms in half an hour – they’re neighboring, so it’s not far. You’re too lazy to properly unpack, so you just grab a bikini and a comfortable white sundress to change into after your shower. The water is welcome on your skin, washing away the grit and sweat of the hours spent on the plane, and you feel like a new person when you step out of the bathroom. You put on sandals and a pair of sunglasses, grab sunscreen, your books and notes for class, and a bottle of water, and throw it all into your beach bag, then head for the door. Joel is already waiting for you, leaning against the wall opposite your door wearing a different shirt, red swimming trunks and dark sunglasses. He’s got a towel thrown over his shoulder and you grin.

"Raw-dogging the beach?“, you ask, which makes him furrow his brows.

"The hell does that mean?“

You snort at his obvious annoyance at your innuendo.

"It means you’re only bringing a towel, nothing to entertain yourself with,“ you explain, gesturing towards your bag. Joel shakes his head, still frowning.

"I’m going to the beach, not the library,“ he answers, and starts walking towards the elevators, his flip-flops making their soft sound on the floor. Your gaze flickers down towards his legs, his swimming trunks revealing tan thighs.

"Comin’?“

You swallow, and catch up with him.

***

He’s fucking gorgeous. It’s a problem, how gorgeous he is, tan torso, swimming trunks low on his hips, bits of dark hair scattered across his chest and soft belly. His shoulders are wide, like they were made for swimming, his hair glistening as he shakes like a wet dog when he comes up for air. You have been staring at the same page for far too long now, but there’s no way Joel is able to notice your staring, not when you’re wearing your sunglasses and he’s busy swimming.

You know it’s a bad idea, that there’s no good that can come from crushing on a man twice your age, more than that, even. You know he must surely see the girl who came over to borrow his bike with tears of anger in her eyes every time he looks at you, and you know how much he respects your father.

Still, you are allowed to have fun. You’re doing this for your Dad more than anything, and you’ve been bending over backwards trying to make him proud with your good grades, so if there’s something you’re able to get out of this trip, you figure you’re at least allowed to look. And anyway, it’s not hurting anyone. It’s just natural, the half-naked bodies and blissful relaxation would affect anyone who has spent the last four months cramped up in a little dorm room.

You watch Joel swim towards the beach again, rising out of the water like some sort of Poseidon sent to personally make this trip unbearable for you. You think of his reaction when you teasingly called him Daddy, and swallow.

"Fuck,“ you mumble to yourself, when he tugs on his swimming trunks so that they don’t slide over his hips, dripping water onto the dry sand all around him. He smiles at you as he makes his way over to your spot – two deckchairs shielded by a parasol.

"Wow,“ Joel says sarcastically, when he looks at your book, still on page two. "Real page turner, huh?“

You blush, and open your mouth to defend yourself, but Joel’s expression softens, all biting humor gone, as he grabs his towel.

"You’re allowed to take a break from studying, you know?“

You watching him dry himself off, big hands rubbing the towel over his chest and stomach, leaving his legs to dry on their own, as he lays down on his deckchair.

"Easy to say, you’re not the one who has to face my Dad if you fail all your exams.“

Joel turns his head towards you, and you’re struck by how gentle his expression is.

"I know he can be a hard ass, but I guarantee you you’re not goin’ to fail all your exams, kid.“

You sigh and shrug.

"He give you a hard time ’cause of your grades?“

"No,“ you answer quickly, all of a sudden feeling defensive of your father. "I just wanna…make him proud.“

Joel smiles.

"I know for a fact you’re doin’ that without even tryin’. And anyway, it’s good to take breaks. Let’s your brain cool off and absorb information much better afterwards.“

Can’t argue with that logic, you think and close your book with a thud. Joel grabs it from you and throws it into your beach bag.

"I grant you two hours of studying each day,“ he says, and you have to laugh. "The rest is for having fun, gettin’ tan and drinkin’ cocktails."

It’s preposterous, that he would order you around like that after you told him you need to study, back before you even made it to the airport. But something is different here, away from your desk, and your Dad’s broken leg (and the rest of him, for that matter). Joel and you have fallen into an easy dynamic, and although it’s unusual, your reservations are gone. You’re actually looking forward to spending time with him, and not just because of the way his belly nudges against the waistband of his swimming trunks, or how his accent seems to thicken in the sun.

"Fine,“ you say, "but you’re paying for my tuition if I do end up failing, Miller.“

He grins at you.

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

the tortured poets department

Bonus Chapter

Info Post

Moodboards

Part I

Prev Part <> Next Part

Contains/TWs: a flashback essentially of reader and ellie whenever they were at the psychiatric hospital/wellness retreat together, the sweetest most gentle and soft ellie of all time. HELLLLAAAAA angst like next level angst. discussions of mental illness, hospitals/psychiatric facilities, and mentions of s**cide, sh/scars from sh. (this is not meant to romanticize psychiatric hospitals/care, mental illness s**cide or sh in any way. if you or someone you know is struggling please reach out. you are loved 💛)

WC: 2.5k

A/N: merry christmas eeeeve!! oh my ellie girls- did i ever cook for you 💛

Bonus

gold rush

I think the first time we actually talked was during one of the first nightmares. I hadn’t grown used to the big unbreakable windows or the heavy hospital beds and the idea of having a roommate who saw every one of my little quirks made it even worse. In fact I was even convinced she hated me after a while. She had tried so many times to be friends and I had blown her off every time. Why wouldn’t she?

It was in the middle of the night, one of the few nights I had actually gotten myself to fall asleep in which was promptly ruined. I don’t even know what had alerted her at first, she was such a light sleeper it could’ve been something as small as the change in my breathing. At any rate though before I could fall too deep into the hole I felt the grip of someone’s hand on my upper arm giving me a firm shake awake.

My vision was already so blurry because of the lack of glasses and the tears didn’t help. My breathing came out sharp and fast as I lifted my hands to roughly wipe at them. “No, hey, stop, don’t do that.” Ellie spoke as she passed off my glasses where I promptly slid them onto my eyes with shaking hands. And whenever I couldn’t find anything to wipe the tears away with she chose her sleeve, yanking it down far past her hand and pressing the fabric underneath my eyes until they coated it.

Normally, I would’ve pulled away. I would’ve scrambled and begged her not to. But the fact that for once someone besides my sister wasn’t looking at me like there was something wrong with me… I guess you could’ve called it an early stage trauma bond. Because all it did was pull me towards her. My hand was flying to hers before I know it, wrapping around her wrist as if to hold it into place.

I let out a tiny gasp in embarrassment, shaking my head to unravel my fingers as I stammered out an anxious apology. “I’m- I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay.” She spoke, the corners of her lips upturning in a weak smile as she inched herself closer. “The first week is usually the hardest. And you get pretty touch starved at some point so… you’re okay. I-I probably need it just as much as you do.”

I sniffled as I nodded, still trying to regulate my breathing as I pushed myself up to a sitting position, still desperately clutching at her arm with a trembling hand like she was the only thing I had left to hold on to. “How did you make it to England?” I whispered, subconsciously scooting aside so she could take a seat on the bed next to me, her shoulder just slightly brushing mine.

“Turns out whenever the US Army really fucks you up, they’re willing to shell out a shit ton of money to send you to the best mental health facilities in other countries to hopefully fix it.”

“Geez…” I muttered underneath my breath as I hugged my knees to my chest. “So you’re like, proper scarred then?”

I wasn’t expecting the massive laugh to burst from her lungs next, almost needing to slap a hand over her in order to not alert any of the nurses probably more than we already had. “You could say that.” She answered, resting her back against the wall before giving my arm the smallest of nudges. “What about you? What are you in for?”

“My parents… really just don’t know how to accept the fact that I’m… different. So they’ve stuck me in here hoping to find some kind of ‘cure’ I guess.” I shrugged, arms hugged around my knees. “Turns out just being extremely neurodivergent isn’t enough to fit the criteria of being put in a long term residential psychiatric care facility though so-”

“Oh yeah? Tried to check out too early too, huh?”

“Wow, it’s like you know me already.” I added with another tearful chuckle, Ellie already pulling at her sleeve to catch the strays before they could roll down my cheeks.

“I do know you.” She added, her tone shifting in a slightly more serious though still gentle tone. “I am you.”

For some reason the words brought forth another shuddering sob. A level of understanding I hadn’t seen in anyone else before, not even my sister. “C’mere.” I heard her whisper, pulling away her already halfway up short hair as she extended her arms out to me like we had known each other for years. The sound of my sob was muffled by her hoodie as she pulled me in, my face hidden in her chest as I let the broken cries finally escape.

It sounded so stupid, but I had tried my hardest not to cry while I was here. I thought if I acted like it enough maybe, finally, magically I’d become stable enough to not have to be here and it could even translate to my life outside. Turns out it didn’t work that way. Ellie brought out a new side of that though, she made me feel like it was okay to cry. And she’d be there every single time. Brushing away my tears or letting me hide my face in her shoulder or her chest until I didn’t have any left to cry.

“From now on… you’ve got me and I’ve got you, deal? So no more trying to check out too early, okay?” I wiped at my eyes with a gross sniffle, and whenever I pried myself from her hoodie I could see her staring at me with an expectant gaze and a lifted pinky finger. It was hard to say no to with that dorky little smile on her face. It was hard to say no to also whenever I knew she had been through so so much worse.

I nodded, weakly, but hoping it was enough enthusiasm for her as I wrapped my pinky around hers and feeling her give them the tiniest squeeze. “Perfect, now I’m never gonna leave you alone, squirt.”

The nickname brought out a tearful laugh from me, and I realized I couldn’t exactly remember the last time I had ever truthfully laughed as she tossed her arms back around me and decorated the top of my head in a dozen kisses. Whenever the nurse came at the usual 5 am to check vitals I distinctly remembered being curled up to her chest like she was my own personal pillow, dozed off to the sound of her breathing.

I knew it was an intense friendship, I knew it could’ve signified more. And honestly maybe that’s what I was afraid of. Growing so close to somebody only to have it brutally taken away from you by nothing more than the complication of love.

~

The wellness retreat we were at prided itself on trying to be just that, a retreat. They put a big emphasis on the great outdoors, courtyards and swimming pools and gardens, including a significant amount of grounds for us to go on walking trails. Ellie, I think, was determined to explore every inch of them before she got out and judging by both of our appointments we’d have the time too. So it was no surprise we frequently found ourselves on one, conjoined hands swinging back and forth like careless middle schoolers wanting to show off their very first relationship until Ellie’s long legs and curiosity got the better of her and she ended up trotting forward. She was after all exceedingly more fit than me.

“So, I don’t mean to pry or anything.” She spoke up after a moment of silence masked by our lazy footsteps.

“That’s never stopped you before.” I giggled before breaking out into a skip to catch up with her.

“Ha ha… very funny.” She snickered with a roll of her eyes. “So, I think I already know the answer to this but- it’s pride month, so humor me? Your sister’s an absolute fruit basket, right?”

I burst into laughter at her words before shrugging in response. “I mean, that’s certainly one way to put it.”

“So… what’s the likelihood your parents ended up with two gay daughters?” She wondered as she held up the number on her fingers.

A tiny smile stretched on my lips at the question, no sign of offense in sight from my end as I slipped my hand around the crook of her elbow. “I’d say… pretty likely.”

“Wicked.” She grinned a bit to herself as she rose her arm ever so slightly as if she was a gentleman escorting me to a fancy event. I chuckled once more at her old school slang, catching my bottom lip in between my teeth as if to avoid smiling even harder.

I released a sigh of relief the moment we approached a clearing enveloped perfectly with its high trees. “Can we stop for a second? I’m totally roasting out here.” I huffed as I trudged forward to find a comfortable seat and slip the psych issued backpack off of my back.

“It’s because you’re always wearing those flannels and long sleeves… even outside. No wonder you’re burning up.” Her voice noticeably got softer as she stepped up behind me with a soft hand on my back. “Why do you do that, by the way?” She questioned, gently slipping her hands up my covered arms to the elbows nearly making me tremble.

“You- You know why.” I mumbled, feeling our bodies naturally inch closer until I pressed my hands to her chest.

“No I know why I guess I just… don’t really know why you wear them here, you know? And around me? I-I mean we all have scars.” She wondered, her careful hands sliding around my back. Somehow despite all of our previous touches and general antics and even falling asleep in the same bed it felt as if this was the most intimate we had ever gotten. Stood like two high schoolers at a dance who had no idea what they were doing, yet everything at the same time.

“I guess I just- I never wanted to bother anybody else. Especially you. They’re- They’re not pretty, and they hurt and- I don’t know.”

Ellie let one of her hands encircle around my forearm against her chest where one of my hands held onto her shoulder. On instinct I tensed up, expecting the worst, expecting the judgemental eyes of doctors and the saddened ones of nurses. “I think scars are a sign of strength- of bravery.” She spoke, gently turning my wrist until the scars were pointed upwards where she gradually rolled my sleeve.

“Your’s are maybe. Mine aren’t brave. H-Hurting yourself isn’t brave.”

Ellie’s brushed a tender thumb along the raised skin, the healed markers of stitches. Normally the touches would’ve caused the slightest sting or even a throb. Healed enough to have faded ever so slightly but not enough to have stopped the pain entirely. Ellie’s touch was so gentle though, so careful and delicate. “Surviving through it is though.” My eyebrows knitted together as a waterfall of tears burned behind my eyes.

“That doesn’t mean do it again-“ she ordered as she held up a stern finger with her free hand. “But… just don’t be ashamed either, you know?” Ellie caught a stray tear with her thumb just before carefully lifting my scarred arm until she could brush her lips against it. Placing delicate featherlike kisses against every little wound.

“Thank you.” I sniffled, a soft sob catching in the back of my throat just as I felt her pulling me in, my face muffled in the crook of her shoulder as she wrapped a strong arm around me. “I think you might just be the sun.”

“Darling…” I could feel her shaking her head from just above me as she still held my wrist with such care. “I’m far from the sun. I’m just a girl who… who really really cares about another girl.”

It almost felt like a declaration of some sort, my eyes flickering upwards to meet her softened green eyes, her star-like freckles that I could trace like constellations, down to her curved lips. Maybe I was hallucinating and delusional, looking back on it I probably was. A one-sided magnetic pull towards her perfectly pink lips. So why did she seem to get closer too? Why did she wrap her arms around my waist to pull me in? Why did she let my hand caress her face in the way it did? Why why why why?

At the last second I felt her lips shifting, pressing softly to my cheek instead of my own and I could nearly feel my heart shatter right then and there. “Baby, I can’t do this to you.” She whispered with a shake of her head, the step backwards only sending me reeling as I fought the urge to dive after her.

“But I- I thought-“

“I know- I know but- fuck, please don’t cry, Millie, I’m sorry.” Ellie didn’t cry often, so whenever she did it was a big deal. But in that moment I could see the tears welling up in her own eyes as she drew back to me so quickly I nearly lost balance. “I can’t- I-I can’t give you your first kiss in here. We- We can’t do this, Millie. I love you s-so fucking endlessly but I- y-you deserve to have your first kiss be from somebody special and somewhere romantic and… not with me.” She sighed a bit to herself, clenching her hands at her sides as if it killed her to say any of this.

“I just can’t give you what you need i-in that sense right now and I- I hate myself for it and I feel like I’ve screwed up the most important and precious thing in my life because of it but… I can’t lie to you. I just can’t.” A weak sob fell from her lips as she let her hands fly to her eyes as if it’d somehow hide all the evidence.

If she were a selfish woman she would’ve gone through with it. She would’ve pushed her lips to mine and held on for dear life and maybe it would’ve gone farther. But she wasn’t selfish. In fact she was probably the most overwhelmingly selfless person I had ever met.

“Ellie, love.” I gulped back my own tears as I stepped forward to take her body into my own arms, lifting up onto my tiptoes so she could nuzzle her face into my own shoulder. “I’m not mad at you. You didn’t screw anything up. You could never screw this up.”

Ellie’s arms squeezed around my waist as she let her tears soak into the crook of my neck with a shuddering sob. “You are the only good thing that has ever happened to me.”

“And you’re still the sun.” I spoke softly, inching away only to cup her freckled face in my hand and press my forehead to hers. “You saved me. So you’re my sun.”

[sukunas-wife]

HAH BACK IN TIME FOR CHRISTMAS! I was working on a little Christmas piece but ran out of time it’s 11:55 so have a little foot ball Sukuna head canon 🤍🤍🎄🎄🌟 and-

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Sukuna is the kind of player who if you’re talking to him when he needs to go change in the locker room, will drop his helmet on your head and rip his jersey off and throw it over the helmet and guid your blind into the locker rooms and you’ll just stand there yapping and all his teammates are spilt between hating it, or smiling because “No way in hell Sukuna brought her in here”

On away games, it’s a given that for your boyfriend you make him a little care pack, and I don’t mean a blanket a pillow and lip gloss and all that stuff, he was confused at first when you said you wanted to give him something, he was ready to roll his eyes and say “No I don’t need your Hello Kitty keychain bullshit to remember you, I’ll literally be backing in the morning” he actually does hang your Sanrio keychain on his duffle bag and flexes it hard and flips off his teammates for trying to bully it, but some of them low key think it’s cute and kinda funny so some of them end up getting funny little plush keychains for their own bags- but that’s not what happens, he’s actually surprised when you give him a little bag with icy hot patches, Gatorade, little snack protein bars he carries around, candies he usually steals from you ZzzQuill, he actually cracks a small smile and laughs amused, nodding as he tied the bag taking it away with him

When it’s a long day, and he’s groaning in aches and pains, he’ll lay face down shirtless in bed, and just hand you a bottle of Icy Hot, Tiger Balm or Cortisone cream, he showed you how to wrap a gauze so you can rub him down and wrap up his achey parts, sure the room smells and your eyes water a bit, but he loves you all the more, he’ll hug you into his side and order takeout and let you choose a movie more often than not, he’ll fall asleep in the weirdest positions if he’s not crushing you with his weigh

Your purse, bag, book bag, pockets (if you have em) sometimes even your jacket hood will have one of his snacks stored away in it and you won’t even know, there you are talking to him and he casually pulls your purse from you opens it up and there’s a magically a protein bar he starts eating, he walking with you as you complain about your bag being heavy and he gives you a weird look and leans back to look ah your bag, “Oh, that’s where I left it” and he’ll pull out a blender bottle full of whatever drink he chose that morning, not his favorite as when you run up to hug him during the winter, he’ll wrap an arm around your shoulder, look down and use his free hand to drop something into the hood of your jacket and once again at the most unexpected time he’ll reach behind you, pull it out and offer you some as if he didn’t just shake you around by your hood just to get a snack out of you

Games: if he doesn’t see you immediately and it’s not play time yet, you can see him just yawning and looking around bored, but internally he’s looking for your face and mumbling “Where’s that woman at?” It’s a related process, as he stands and walks around, just looking, the same sentence reworded, “Woman, where are you?” Where’s my woman? “I can’t see her, where the hells she a- oh there she is”

People think he’s a flirt, and likes the attention, the truth is, he doesn’t care much for female or male attention, he’s doing it all for the chance to make it big and make big money, so when women are crying out for him, he just seems uninterested and says “let me introduce you too” and drags whoever is closest to him to deal with whoever was trying to touch him

When he’s making impressive plays, in the moment he doesn’t dare look at you, he says if he wants to see you smile it’s not going to be a sympathy smile because he fucked up, it better be a smile because you saw the complicated shit he just pulled

When he lands a touch down, he doesn’t gloat or look at cameras, he looks directly at you with a hard stare (it’s not intentional, he’s just in the zone) and he point at you, that’s it, no heart or air kiss, no you just need to know, that’s his way of saying ‘That’s for you short stack’

Winning games, go one of two ways, he loves to just go home and groan and lay on the bed or sofa and doesn’t even shower just stretches out all his sore muscles and just relaxes with you i til he decides you can get up and shower and order in whatever food, or he showers and changed in the locker room and takes you out to eat, he actually hates bars, he hates fast cheap drinks, even at expensive bars he feels like his drinking experience should end in 5 minutes, so he takes you out to dinner in a nice place, sit down and just celebrate his win slowly unwinding the day

Losing game, if he’s angry, it’s best to just sit in silence with him and let him think over it and process it. What went wrong, what did he do wrong. Where does he need to improve, sometimes he just needs to rant it out and figure it out himself so he can understand. If it’s a sad loss, there are just some times where you’ll go home in silence, he’ll walk straight to shower, you’ll have to fix his bed and get him clean clothes, turn on the ac and leave something running on the tv, he’ll come out the shower, quiet, staring down laps in whatever thought clouds his mind, lay down and let him play between your legs with his head on your chest, hold him and let him rest, run your hand through his hair gently and run your hand over his back, let him have his moments of peace and just be with him <3

I know nothing about American football but picturing college bf!sukuna all sweaty in an American football uniform makes me feel things

bonus if he gives you his college jersey to wear at his games for good luck, he likes to show off on purpose for you

[criminal-sen]

Well I went from having free health insurance to paying $180/month plus a thousand dollar deductible, I literally feel like I just got fucking mugged

[d3nji]

Woke up and got depressed yay

[dyketennant]

oh i can already tell i’m about to have some really unpopular opinions about the edge of sleep tv show

[jackgarlond]

hmmm I do not see how I'm going to be able to make it to 26

[nabsthevulture]

ALSO OMG?????

Thank you guys so so so much for your help with Kaine's vet bills <3!!!!!!!!!!! We're about halfway there for covering it all. Like you guys know, I've been unemployed for a while and even at my last job with the hours i was getting I would have to pay with three weeks of pay. The job search is not going as good as I hope, so this all went on my credit card and I can't keep piling money on that with no back up plan, so your help is incredible and I can't thank you guys enough.

Big big love from me and my big baby. If he could type I'm sure he'd say thank you too. I'll post a picture of him in his donut for your viewing pleasure.

[cybervom1t]

i’m just so tired lmao

[dollfat]

sometimes i miss my stupid gacha game but then i remember it wasnt a fun game in my free time it was a literal job that expected me to clock in multiple times a day or i would hurt my alliance's score and i would save up gems for months for one specific summoning event and not get the hero i wanted and the one time i worked my ass off to finish a tower and got the exact middle prize of like 25 gems and THEN they introduced a new level cap with resources requirements to unlock and then literally just. sold them. for money. and ofc people bought them and their power level was suddenly 500 more and my highly curated and leveled up team was weak sauce. and they kept advertising a new journey of the west themed chapter but if you didnt buy their $100 battle pass before the event you could NEVER unlock the icons for completing levels.

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[strohller27]

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[smartichokes]

*fighting back tears emailing my academic advisor about my GPA* do it scared do it scared do it scared