#one google search. that was it!! and now look at me

[writersrkive]

Don't shut up | Spencer Reid

summary: Spencer is used to people who constantly tell him to shut up, but somehow, he feels even more embarrassed and sad when he thinks you want him to stop talking after looking at the tired and confused expression you have when he's trying to help you. The thing is you hate when people do that to Spence and would spend years just listening to his voice.

genre: fluff

pairing: Early seasons!Spencer Reid x bau!reader

warnings: mentions of the team shutting Spencer down. Derek and JJ being a little mean to him when he's spreading information. Spencer being a cutie potato. Mention of a stomachache and its causes (mention of miscarriage as one of the causes, but nothing happens). Reader not being a native english speaker, but just a slight mention.

a/n: Dr. Spencer Reid is a genius.... I am not. I literally had to search for information and copy-paste here in some parts, so if there's misinformation, it's Google's fault, lmao. I wrote this yesterday when I was about to sleep, so I'm sorry if something is wrong with the writing (even though I already edited). English isn't my first language, please be kind <3.

Masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

Spencer and you arrived early that morning. He hated being late for anything. He couldn't afford to be late if he wanted to stick as closely as possible to his assigned schedule, especially because he took public transport. On the other hand, you had no choice but to arrive early when you woke up at four in the morning thanks to a severe stomachache and couldn't go back to sleep.

That's how your conversation started. Your genius workmate was surprised to see you, first hour in the morning, when he walked in the office, even before Hotch arrived.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. You couldn't deny that the expression was too cute for your own good.

“Yeah… I think so. It's not even the stomach ache that bothers me, it's the fact that even if I was sleepy, I couldn't fall asleep again. You know? That happens to me a lot. Once I open my eyes, I can't go back to sleep. I've also been feeling mildly unwell for a week, but even though the medication is controlling it, it doesn't stop."

At this point, he already set up his desk, leaving his briefcase on his own chair to walk over to you and sit at your desk, next to the chair you were sitting in, to listen to you attentively and answer.

“The brain works with different phases of sleep: light sleep, deep sleep, and REM sleep. The cycle usually restarts every eighty to one hundred minutes, and we typically have four to six cycles each night.”

Hotch came out of the elevator and walked upstairs after both of you waved at him, and he let out a soft “good morning”. Emily arrived a few seconds later. You greeted her too, as she took place on her desk, but that didn't stop your conversation.

“So, it's completely normal that we wake up in the middle of the night because of that process, but if it is frequent, for three months or more, it may be a symptom of insomnia.”

Your view went to the floor, and your head nodded in a semi-unconscious movement, because although you knew that your sleep cycle was ruined by work, you had not come to that conclusion, maybe that was it.

“Now, the stomachache…” He said, taking one pen from your pencil case to concentrate. He usually never took other people's belongings or shared his own stuff because of the germs, but somehow, after a few years of working together, he had come to have a good amount of closeness with you to borrow some stuff from you. Months ago, it hadn't gone unnoticed by Penelope that Spencer had a box full of pens reserved for you, in case you needed one, nor the fact that he denied JJ one of them once, when the blonde girl needed something to write with quickly.

“The causes can be the most common, such as gas, indigestion, a muscle injury, or stress. Although there are also more serious causes: gastrointestinal infections, inflammatory bowel disease, irritable bowel syndrome, ectopic pregnancy or miscarriage..."

“Wow, what are you trying to do? Scare her?” Derek's voice invaded the place and Emily smirked.

“What? No, I'm just saying the possibilities…” Spencer whispered, looking down, a little worried that he might actually scared the person he cared more, besides his mom.

“It's okay.” You answer loud enough so your friends and coworkers would hear. “Thanks, Spence. I already went to the doctor, so I have none of… those.” I gave him a little smile. “But about stress…” The sentence hung in the air, so Spencer looked up and continued speaking automatically.

“Stress can cause stomach pain because the autonomic nervous system of the gastrointestinal tract reacts to the same hormones and neurotransmitters as the brain. This is because the digestive system is connected to the nervous system, and the enteric nervous system, which is located in the digestive system, is able to send and receive impulses and assimilate emotions.” He started to talk faster.

Your focus on the genius boy and his explanation was sincere, but maybe it was the fact that you didn't rest well, plus the fact that he was speaking too fast and not vocalizing all the syllables, that for a moment your brain didn't process what he was saying.

It was weird. At some point you didn't even hear words, just sounds from his mouth. That didn't happen to you for a really long time because you already had experience with the native speakers, even if english wasn't your mother language. The exhausting feeling of not being able to sleep well was definitely to blame.

While your brain was coming to that conclusion, Spencer could only see your furrowed brow, tense jaw, tilted head, and dissociated look.

“You want me to shut up, right?” That whisper was enough for you to come back to reality. His cheeks were red and his eyes looked a little sad, not to mention the way his mouth formed a line like whenever he felt awkward.

“Yes, please!” Derek answered instead, leaning back in his seat and looking up with his arms outstretched as if he'd had to deal with seven unsubs in the five minutes he'd been there, listening from his place to the information Spencer was giving you.

“Little genius boy got excited… again.” JJ said, looking at some documents in front of her, opening her eyes wide in an expression of tiredness and disinterest.

The young profiler stood up from your desk thinking about returning to his chair, a little embarrassed, but you took his pinky with yours —that way you wouldn't make him feel uncomfortable in case he wasn't in the mood for physical touch, something he refused unless it was you. Again, another special treat—. “Wait. It wasn't like that.” Hazel eyes looked at you intently, still with a bit of doubt. “I'm sorry Spencer. Yes, you got excited, but that's not something bad.”

“It isn't?” He questioned.

“No, but you started to speak fast, and the fact that there are some words that I have a hard time processing in English and I couldn't quite catch what you were saying because I didn't sleep enough, well, that distracted me. Would you mind repeating it again, slower?” This time, you were the one with warm cheeks.

“Oh. Are you sure you don't want me to shut up?” The boy was actually intrigued and a little surprised.

“Why would I want that?” The fact that your teammates often shut Spencer up when he tried to share extra information, or information that he had been asked about, was something you had noticed from the moment you started working with the team. You thought that was rude. You understood that sometimes Spencer got excited, gave information that was perhaps better saved for another time since you were investigating a case, or people could be tired and want silence, but the team either silenced him or made fun of him most of the time. Plus, there weren't many other things you liked more than hearing his voice.

The sweet, soothing tone of his words helped you sleep on the jet after a long case, or made you want to hear more about whatever he was talking about. Feeling like he was sharing with you, a mere mortal, some of the vast knowledge he had was nice.

“I'm always happy to hear whatever you need to say, even if it's about something I don't understand. And, right now, you are helping me a lot, so, please, don't shut up.” The crimson color returned to the tall boy's face, this time not because he was uncomfortable. Your kind and somewhat complicit smile made his heart race, like almost every time he was with you. Spencer knew that no matter how tired he got, he would never shut up if you wanted him to keep talking.

[supreme-burrito]

OKAY LISTEN UP

SO According to the OP this post (the one in the original chat)

Was supposedly posted between 12/9 and 12/10 according to the OP (thestar-and-thestorm) (no I am not directly tagging them because I am not starting a cancel culture cult over this) who originally sent out this information to the blog, ai-art-thieves who started spreading this information as a warning that it was real.

As the link, supposedly OP said that one of their friends saw this in the Wrong Organ Discord Server. Wrong Organ is the development company behind Mouthwashing. So I assumed that it was THEIR Official Discord Server. So obviously, I joined the server and poked around. I could not find a post implementing this or any kind of posts around that time that seemed...relevant to what the post was referring to. And I assumed that this troll got banned immediately when posting it.

So- I simply asked the mod team. Here was the response I got.

1. OP is spreading misinformation

2. OP's friend is in cahoots with a smaller server that is ALSO called Wrong Organ and saw the message there.

3. OP's friend is spying on Russian troll Discord servers.

Question: Who is OP's friend? You could have gotten a better screenshot with other messages and now looking at it, the Discord name and Image is pretty low res compared to the message which makes it more sus.

Also, what is 12 on Wagner referring to? I did a quick Google search and all I came up with was how Magic's (the basketball team) center has a torn ACL.

And I don't think the post is related to the Mouthwashing community at all....but it probably still involves Tumblr, possibly Reddit.

One quick Urban Dictionary search made me find this

Fagwashing: When non-LGBT characters get turned queer. Usually caused by Tumblr or Twitter.

What tipped me off that this was NOT about Mouthwashing AT ALL is the second thing mentioned "FP Shit"

FP, per Urban Dictionary's definition, it could mean several things.

favorite person, often used in the borderline personality disorder as the person they are feeling extreme emotions for and are focusing on.

fanpage

I personally think it's the former of the two, but to conclude.

In conclusion, it's fake in terms of who the attack is being reported to be against, go home and have yourself a Merry Christmas

However for people who fanonize straight characters as queer and for people with borderline personality disorder, I would be wary of your spaces online.

Because here is the kicker: THE ORIGINAL DISCORD POST DOESN'T EVEN MENTION TUMBLR AS THE RAID SITE

Hello dear!

Sorry for bothering you, but it's important to remind you to turn off your asks for a few days! Bad things are going to happen on Tumblr soon...

Don t know anything about this but BETTER BE SAFE EVERYBODY!!!!!!

[deliciousangelfestival]

Holly Jolly Charade | Bucky

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female! Reader

Summary: Turns out, bringing a fake boyfriend to a family dinner worked out just fine.

Prompt: fake dating becomes too real

Part 2 : The Christmas Shift

Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

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

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband on Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Have you ever had one of those mornings that just feel perfect? The kind where everything aligns so effortlessly it feels like the universe is on your side?

No traffic, no line at the coffee shop, and all your usual rush-hour chaos smoothed out like butter on warm toast. Especially now, with Christmas looming, when there’s so much to get done, a morning like that feels like a miracle.

But just when you think the day’s off to a perfect start, something always has to disrupt the flow. This time, it’s your phone buzzing with a text message.

Mom:

"I’ve sent our ride to pick you up. No more excuses!"

You groaned audibly and rolled your eyes so hard they almost hurt. The text left an invisible weight pressing on your chest. It wasn’t like you hated your family, but the thought of attending their Christmas dinner was… exhausting. Ever since you moved out, you’d been dodging these gatherings like a pro.

In the first couple of years, they were understanding. Your excuse? A new job, fresh out of college, with long hours and no time for travel. They’d bought it. Then, a few years later, you said you were busy building your business, and that worked too.

But now? Now your business was thriving, and worse, everyone knew it. Thanks to that damn magazine article, your entire extended family knew about your company’s success. Including how much profit it was making. You should’ve refused the interview. You should’ve told your friends to leave you out of it.

Now there were no excuses left. Your family saw right through them.

You tossed your phone onto your desk with a huff and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to come up with a last-minute plan. The thought of sitting at that table, sharing space with your aunt of all people, made your stomach twist.

She was the epitome of judgmental nosiness, prying into every corner of your private life, not because she cared but because she wanted to compare. She loved knowing someone was doing worse than she was—it was like her secret Christmas joy.

You groaned again, typing furiously on your phone. “How to get away from Christmas family dinner” was the search query, but every suggestion seemed ridiculous or impractical. You sighed, slumping back in your chair.

A sudden knock at the door startled you.

“Come in,” you said, not bothering to glance up from your phone.

The door creaked open, and your vice president, Bucky Barnes, stepped in. He held a stack of papers in one hand, his other shoved casually into his pocket. His loose, long hair, still a work in progress, framed his annoyingly handsome face. He was wearing a crisp blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black pants, and the faintest smirk on his lips.

“Here’s the report,” he said, stepping closer and placing it on your desk. “Just need your signature, and the team can have an early paycheck.”

You glanced up briefly, pen already in hand. "Why didn't the finance guy give this to me?"

"Because they're afraid of you." He leaned against the desk, folding his arms, his smirk growing into something more mischievous.

“You look like someone Googling excuses to avoid their ex,” he teased, tilting his head toward your phone. “Or did your mom finally pin you down for the family Christmas dinner?”

You shot him a withering glare, tapping the pen against the report in irritation. “Mind your business, Barnes.”

“Hard not to,” he said with a shrug. “You’ve been muttering under your breath about aunts for the past five minutes. Also, your face? It’s doing that scrunchy thing again. Looks like someone ate a lemon.”

You leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms, staring daggers at him. “You’re awfully chatty for someone who’s been begging me for months to let him quit.”

“Begging?” He scoffed, a mock look of offense crossing his face. “I just said I wanted to try something new. But nooo, you’re like, ‘Stay here, Bucky. You’re the best VP ever.’” He fluttered his eyelashes dramatically, earning an eye roll from you.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, snatching the pen and signing the document with more force than necessary.

“Aw, is that your way of saying you’d miss me?” He grinned, grabbing the papers and straightening them with a satisfied nod.

“No. It’s my way of saying you’d never survive on your own.”

He laughed, heading for the door. “Well, good luck with Christmas dinner. Don’t forget—misery loves company. Or in your case, a nosy aunt and smug cousins.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him as you continued scrolling through your phone. Your search results were less than helpful, but then one suggestion caught your eye: “Tell them you’re traveling with your boyfriend.”

The idea wasn’t entirely ridiculous. Your mom had been nagging you about finding someone and settling down for ages. Without thinking it through, you began typing a message.

“I can’t. I already have a trip planned with my boyfriend. Didn’t you want me to get married?”

Satisfied with the excuse, you hit send and placed your phone on the desk.

Not even two seconds later, the screen lit up with an incoming video call. It was your mom.

“Crap!” you yelped, fumbling for the phone. In your panic, you almost dropped it, but Bucky, quick as ever, snatched it mid-air. Unfortunately, his finger brushed the screen, accidentally accepting the call.

Your mother’s delighted face filled the screen. “Oh my goodness, you didn’t lie! You have a boyfriend. And a handsome one at that!”

Bucky froze, his eyes widening in shock. “Uh… I… wait—”

Your mom wasn’t listening. She leaned closer to her phone camera, grinning ear to ear. “It’s so nice to meet you! Both of you are still at the office, I see. Perfect. Cancel your plans and bring him to the family dinner!” With that, she hung up before you could say a word.

You stared at the blank screen, your hand still frozen mid-air. “What the heck just happened?”

Bucky turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “I think I just got adopted as your boyfriend.”

You groaned, rubbing your forehead. “This is a disaster. I texted her saying I had plans with my boyfriend so I wouldn’t have to go to dinner.”

“Do you even have a boyfriend?”

“No!” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “And now my mom thinks we’re together!”

Before Bucky could respond, your assistant knocked on the door. “Ma’am, the driver is waiting downstairs for you.”

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, scrambling to grab your coat.

Bucky leaned casually against the doorframe, watching you with an amused expression. “I could play along, you know.”

“You? Helping me?” You scoffed, slipping your arms into the coat.

He shrugged, grabbing his own jacket. “I didn’t say I’d do it for free.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What’s the catch?”

“I want to resign. And a generous bonus while we’re at it.”

You gaped at him, incredulous. “Seriously? Why do you want to quit so badly? You’ve got great benefits here.”

He followed you out of the office, adjusting his jacket as he walked. “I want to explore more. I’ve learned a lot here, but it’s time for something new.”

You glanced at him, half-annoyed, half-impressed by his confidence. “Unbelievable.”

“Come on,” he said with a mischievous grin. “How hard can pretending to be your boyfriend really be? I’ll even charm your aunt.”

“Oh, this is going to be a nightmare,” you muttered as the two of you stepped into the elevator.

“Maybe,” Bucky said with a smirk, “but at least it won’t be boring.”

As you stepped into the lobby, your eyes immediately landed on the sleek black Maybach parked by the curb. The driver stood beside it, wearing a formal suit and gloves, ready to escort you to the inevitable Christmas dinner. Of course, it was your mom’s car—a glaring reminder that she always got her way.

You stood frozen for a moment, torn between irritation and resignation. The reality of the situation hit you like a weight: there was no escape this time. You chewed the inside of your cheek, contemplating running back upstairs and locking yourself in your office.

Before you could make a move, you felt a presence behind you. Turning around, you found Bucky standing there, casually slipping on his coat.

“Fine,” you sighed. “I’ll fire you.”

His lips quirked into a triumphant grin. “Finally.”

“But,” you added sharply, pointing a finger at him, “if you want to leave on good terms, you’d better play your part well. Convince my family—especially my aunt—that we’re a couple.”

Bucky gave you a mock salute, his grin widening. “Got it. I’ll play my part like I’m gunning for an Oscar.”

You nearly laughed at his response, a small chuckle escaping despite yourself. “Let’s go.”

Once inside the car, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through pictures of your family. Handing it to Bucky, you said, “Don’t worry about my cousins—they’re pretty cool and don’t ask too many questions. The real trouble is my aunt.” You pointed at a specific photo.

“That one,” you said, gesturing to a woman in her sixties, decked out in pearls, bright red lipstick, and chunky jade bracelets on both wrists. “She’s the one you need to watch out for.”

Bucky studied the picture, raising an eyebrow. “She looks… interesting. Definitely has a lot of character.”

You snorted. “That’s one way to put it. She’s the type who compares everything—lives, careers, relationships. If she starts asking questions, keep your answers vague. She’ll latch onto anything you say.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully, his expression serious. “Got it. What about your parents?”

“They’ll be relieved the moment they see me walking in with a boyfriend,” you said dryly.

He nodded again, absorbing the information like he was preparing for a mission. “Then I’ll make sure to play my part well.”

🎄🎄🎄🎄

Inside, the house was bursting with holiday cheer. Laughter echoed through the halls, mingling with the warm hum of Christmas music. The living room was a festive wonderland, filled with garlands, twinkling lights, and an enormous tree decorated to perfection.

The moment you stepped through the door, a woman in an elegant dress swept toward you, her arms outstretched.

“Finally!” your mom, Robin, exclaimed, pulling you into a side hug. Her perfume was a comforting mix of cinnamon and vanilla, and her excitement was almost infectious.

Then her eyes landed on Bucky, and her expression shifted into one of pure delight. “My prayers have been answered,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Come here!”

Before Bucky could react, she pulled him into a warm hug. He blinked, caught off guard but recovering quickly, wrapping an arm around her lightly.

“I’m sorry for the late introduction, ma’am,” Bucky said smoothly, stepping back with a polite smile. “I’m Bucky.”

You stepped in before your mom could ask questions. “We just became official recently.”

Robin’s face lit up even more, her eyes darting between the two of you. “Good! Welcome, Bucky.”

“Thank you,” he said with a slight bow, his tone respectful but calm.

As you stood with your mom and Bucky in the foyer, a woman approached, her presence unmistakable. She wore pearls as if they were a permanent part of her body, bright red lipstick that seemed freshly applied, and her signature jade bracelets jangled with every step. Her hair was big—almost comically so—and styled to perfection. It was your aunt Teresa, the one you had warned Bucky about.

“Well, well, well,” Teresa said, her eyes scanning Bucky like he was a prize. “Is this the boyfriend I’ve heard so much about?”

You stiffened, forcing a tight smile. “Yes.”

Bucky, ever the diplomat, stepped forward with a friendly grin. “Bucky Barnes. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Oh, call me Teresa,” she purred, giving him an appraising look. “You’re quite the charmer. And so handsome! No wonder she finally brought someone home.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, struggling to maintain your composure.

“So,” Teresa continued, her tone dripping with faux curiosity, “how long have you two been together?”

“Not too long,” you said curtly, trying to end the conversation.

“A little over three months,” Bucky added smoothly, his tone warm and engaging.

“Three months?” Teresa said, arching a perfectly shaped brow. “Well, you’d better lock him up, dear,” she said, turning to you. “We’ll be planning another wedding soon!”

“Teresa,” Robin interjected gently, noticing your discomfort. “Why don’t we give them a moment to settle in?”

You took the opportunity to grab Bucky’s arm and drag him away, your jaw clenched.

As soon as you were out of earshot, you muttered, “That’s just the beginning. Wait until she finishes her fifth glass of wine.”

Bucky chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “She’s... entertaining.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s one way to put it.”

Later, Bucky met your cousins in the den, and as you predicted, they were laid-back and easy to talk to. They exchanged jokes and stories, asking Bucky only a few lighthearted questions about his work. You watched from the sidelines, thankful that at least some of your family wasn’t exhausting.

At dinner, everyone gathered around the massive dining table, the centerpiece adorned with candles and holiday-themed decorations. The atmosphere was warm and festive, but the moment Teresa began talking, you felt the familiar weight of dread settle in.

“So,” Teresa began, her voice carrying over the clinking of cutlery, “my son just secured a new oil permit. Big deal, you know. And my daughter-in-law? She got promoted to partner at her firm. Isn’t that wonderful?”

You nodded politely, forcing a neutral expression. “That’s great, Aunt Teresa.”

“And what about you?” Teresa asked, her tone dripping with condescension. “I hear your little business is doing well. But it must be so stressful, hmm? All that work with no one to share it with.”

You bit back a retort, focusing on your plate instead.

Bucky leaned toward you and whispered, “This is boring.”

“Yup,” you murmured in agreement, spearing a piece of food with your fork. “She always does this. She’s the one who insists on family dinners.”

The two of you exchanged quiet remarks, completely ignoring Teresa’s continued self-praise. Finally, she noticed and turned her attention to both of you.

“Are you two even listening?” Teresa snapped, her bracelets clinking as she gestured dramatically. “And tell me, when are you two getting married?”

Bucky didn’t miss a beat. He leaned back in his chair, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Well, Teresa, we want to make sure we don’t rush it. After all, we wouldn’t want to overshadow the amazing achievements of your son and daughter-in-law.”

The room went silent for a moment before your cousins stifled laughter, and Teresa pursed her lips, clearly caught off guard.

After dinner, you helped your mom arrange desserts on the table in the kitchen. The aroma of freshly baked pies and cinnamon filled the air. Robin looked pleased, humming softly as she arranged plates.

From the dining room, Teresa’s voice drifted in as she tried to corner Bucky for more questions.

“So, Bucky,” Teresa began, her tone overly sweet. “Tell me, what’s it like working with her? She must be such a perfectionist.”

Bucky didn’t falter. “Actually, she’s brilliant. One of the smartest and most hardworking people I’ve ever met.”

Teresa narrowed her eyes slightly, clearly fishing for more. “But she must be difficult sometimes. Don’t you think?”

Bucky smiled, his tone calm but firm. “No more difficult than anyone else who’s successful. If anything, she makes work more enjoyable.”

You overheard the exchange and couldn’t help but feel a flicker of gratitude. For all his teasing, Bucky had your back.

Later, when the two of you were finally alone in the den, you let out a long breath and slumped onto the couch. Bucky poured himself a glass of whiskey from the bar cart and sank into the armchair across from you.

“You’re fired, Bucky,” you said, though there was no heat in your voice.

He chuckled, raising his glass in a mock toast. “Thanks, boss.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “Seriously, thanks. I’m glad you came.”

“Anytime,” he replied, sipping his whiskey. “Just don’t make me sit next to Teresa again.”

You both laughed, the tension of the evening finally starting to fade.

You leaned back on the couch, your fingers tapping the glass of wine in your hand. The room had gone quiet after the bustling chaos of the family dinner, and Bucky was nursing his whiskey with a far-off look in his eyes.

“I still don’t get it,” you said, breaking the silence. “Why do you keep wanting to quit?”

Bucky’s gaze shifted to you, his expression unreadable at first. Then, he set his glass down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Because I want to be on the same level as you,” he said, his voice steady but carrying a weight that made you pause.

You blinked, confused. “Huh?”

“I want to start my own business,” he explained, his eyes meeting yours. “Be my own boss. I’ve learned so much working with you, but I need to prove to myself that I can do it too.”

You studied him, trying to piece together the sudden intensity in his words. “That’s it? You’ve got some big plans, huh?”

Bucky exhaled a soft chuckle, but there was something else in his eyes—something unspoken. “Yeah, big plans,” he said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “I’ve always admired you, you know. Not just for what you’ve built, but for who you are.”

You tilted your head, still not fully grasping the weight of his words. “You admire me?”

He looked at you, his blue eyes holding yours longer than usual. “Yeah. For a long time now.”

The air between you shifted, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the right words. You thought back to all the years you’d worked together, the arguments, the jokes, and the moments where he always seemed to have your back.

But you dismissed the thought, brushing off the flicker of something deeper. “Well,” you said, forcing a grin, “I’m glad you’re ambitious. Just don’t expect me to give you glowing references when you leave.”

Bucky laughed, leaning back into the armchair. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

That year marked the first time you’d asked Bucky to pretend to be your boyfriend, a favor born out of desperation. He played the part so convincingly that even your family believed it.

The second year came, and to your surprise, you asked him again. By then, it had become a strange tradition—your fake boyfriend who seamlessly charmed your family while sparing you the agony of invasive questions.

By the third year, something had shifted. The lines between pretending and reality blurred, and you couldn’t shake the growing warmth you felt whenever he was near. It wasn’t just gratitude anymore—it was something deeper.

When the fourth year rolled around, you made a decision. No more pretending. You told him you wanted to stop the charade, but instead of ending things, you found yourselves starting something real.

And in the fifth year, you stood side by side at the altar, promising forever to the man who had been beside you all along.

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@mostlymarvelgirl

@scott-loki-barnes

@kjah97

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

A/N : There will be part 2. I'll use the prompt from @the-slumberparty

[stxrslutrestored]

TAKE THE PAIN AWAY

pairing; john b x angel reader

summary; when you're left bed bound by your ruthless period pains, john b takes it upon himself to give you some relief, and if not that, at least a distraction

content; angel!reader, period sex

authors note; re upload!

you groan loudly, rolling over to bury your face in one of the pillows that makes up part of the nest you have on the couch. the pain is unbearable, it feels as though someone is scraping the insides of your uterus out with a rusted fork. 

john b comes back from the kitchen with a glass of water and some painkillers, “no better?” he asks, crouching down to your level. he places a hand on your back, applying some pressure as he rubs circles in a futile attempt to help. 

“no!” you groan, “nothings helping! not even the pills. I can’t do this!” the tears are starting to spill from where they were built up just behind your eyelids. 

“oh baby,” john b grimaces, he just wishes that he could make this stop for you. if he could take the pain away he would, no matter what the consequences, he hates to see you cry. “what can I do huh? tell me what I can do?” 

you shake your head in frustration, “I don’t know,” you cry. god, you hate this so much. you can’t even get to sleep, the pain is too much, you’re stuck here, bound to feel it no matter what. 

john b decides to give you a cuddle, it most definitely won’t cure your pain, but it is a guaranteed soothing method. 

with your head in his lap, and one hand occupied rubbing your back, he makes a quick google search, and comes across a promising article, “guaranteed ways to soothe period cramps in minutes”. 

“babe?..” 

                                     *

“I’m not so sure about this john b.. what if I make a mess?” you ask anxiously, breath still shaky from the pain that keeps bombarding your poor body. 

“that’s what the towel is for.” he smiles, and then he gives you a reassuring look, “I promise this is gonna help yeah? that’s all you gotta worry about.” 

he helps you lift your hips up so he can put the towel down under you, then he pulls your pyjama shorts down, along with your underwear and inevitably ready to change sanitary pad with it. 

“oh ew john b don’t look!” you cover your face in embarrassment, and all he does is chuckle. he’s so stupid, he respects women and isn’t grossed out by their bodily functions. how dare he. 

he disregards your freak out and moves to stand over you, pulling down his sweatpants, and his own underwear too. “right.. let’s get you sorted out.” 

he climbs onto the couch, holding himself up over you, “ready?” he asks, looking down with a clear feeling of concern.

you nod, “yeah.. just go slow please?” you ask, and of course he nods, always there to adhere to your wishes.

one of his hands comes down to lift your lower back slightly, tilting your hips up so that he can slowly push himself into you, bottoming out so that you can feel him in your stomach. 

“oh!” you whimper. feeling the extra pressure inside of you is overwhelming, especially before he starts to move, it’s a lot. 

“shhh sh sh,” john b’s voice is so soft, “I’ve got you. gonna start moving now, okay?” his words are soothing, comforting. he's got you. 

he was right, you realise, it does help, you become overtaken by the pleasure in minutes, so overtaken that you almost completely forget that you were ever in pain. 

you squirm and moan and cry, “oh— feels so good! oh!” your hips buck up, meeting his own as he thrusts into you. 

the size of him is so perfect, he’s thick, and there’s veins, he’s just so perfect to take inside of you, you love it and you will just never get used to it. 

“oh! john b— gonna— gonna cum!” you cry out, back arching from the pleasure. your hand comes out to wrap around his neck, getting you closer to him for that final climax. 

“it’s okay, you can cum.. just let go..” and you do, you do let go. the pleasure washes over you, he keeps going for a minute to let you ride it out before he finishes himself. 

he groans gutturally, unable to stop himself, “there you go.” he murmurs finally, “there we go.”

you fall back, out of breath, worn out, done in. but, at last, no longer in pain. it worked. 

[mattsfootcramp]

'Its Just a Bell' M.S series

warnings: strong use of language, suggestive, mentions of abuse

(if you know anyone struggling with abuse please tell someone right the fuck away)

Summary: After the night the triplets arrived, y/n searched them up.. and then she fully. met matt

I walked down to my dad who was getting ready to go to our house for the night.. always leaving me in charge.

I grabbed the keys from his hand as he walked into his old ford truck that that sat in the middle of the parking lot.

As he drove off i grabbed my phone and type out 'Sturniolo Triplets' on to google.

What popped up shocked the hell out of me 7.28 million subscribers?!

Jesus Christ and they could afford a decent hotel?

Because my shift was the whole 12 hour night i decided to grab a chair and turn on a video.

Throughout the video there was some sort of connection towards matt, his smile, his hair, his jokes, his lips, his eyes, his tattoos..

Now although i had no idea who they were before this i felt like i knew them my whole life after i watched 2 videos..

Until i hear a grunt behind me.

I quickly shut my phone off and look behind me.

Matt. Sturniolo.

"uhm hi?" I quickly look around to see if his brothers are with him surprised their not.

"I couldn't sleep so i was wondering if you guys at least had coffee" He says walking more into the main building.

"its only for the employees but.. i mean i can make you one.." Although it was completely against the rules that didn't stop me from breaking them.

I mean for this hot ass guy id do anything. fucking. anything.

"really? you sure its no problem?" He replies.

"its literally just me brewing it.. i got you.." My accent deceives me.

I walk to the back and signal for him to follow me. I grab a coffee pod and place into the coffee maker.

"you know.. your nice. one of the nicest hotel workers iv meet" He draws an imaginary shape on the counter where stuff is stored.

"Its my accent. it portrays my personality differently. no one can take me seriously with it," i complain. sitting on the counter.

"hope you know its gonna take awhile. this coffee maker is older then the building." Making him laugh.

God his laugh.. the way he just smiles.. makes me think of how he would pound int- y/n no he's a customer.

"so im gonna assume you have a boyfriend?" He goes into a little serious emotion.

"what makes you assume that?" I smirks.

"i mean your like really ho- i mean- shit i didn't mean to like.. fuck i messed up" he covers his face in embarrassment

"Bold.. i like it. and no.. i don't have a boyfriend." I get off the counter ass the coffee maker comes to a stop.

"wait really? wait how old are you?" he makes a curious expression

"18.. about to turn 19 in like.. 5 days?" i grabs a few creams a sugars for him.

"wait your shitting me." he looks almost happy now that he knows my age

"nope!" i say with that fake ass smile.

"i probably should of lead with that question before anything.." he makes a little smile.

"yeah probably." I laugh a little with him.

"god I'm heading to fucking Texas tomorrow.. or in two days.. i don't really know" he sighs and leans his head on the wall

2 days?! how am i supposed to make a connection in 2 days?!

"so your an influencer.." I bites my lip gently. him taking notice.

He stands up straight and gently walks to me

"yeah.. you like that huh?" He squints his eyes with a little smirk.

He puts both his arms on either side of me trapping me into the counter.

"i-.. uh.." I got so flustered.. fuck. I'm blushing to hard at this.

"well? gonna answer m-" He gets cut off by the bell signaling that the door opened.

"you uhm wait right her ill be back" I walk out and see my dad frantically looking for something

"uhm? what are you looking for?" i cross my arms at the front desk

"my lighter. have you seen it" he looks up at me with that look. the look of drunkenness.

"no.. dad.." i go quiet. not wanting to make him mad. especially when matt is in the back of this building.

"god your fucking useless. fuck. i bet you fucking took it because you so mother fucking greedy." he yells at me. making me flinch. making him scoff and leave.

At least he didn't hit me that time.

I walk back into the back. matt has a look of concern.

"what just happened" he questions once im in view or him.

"you should.. you should go before he comes back.. I'm fine though thanks." I look down at the floor the whole time

"Can i.. give you a hug?" he walks a little forwards

I nod and he closes the gap between us and wraps his arms around me. and in this moment i feel the safest iv ever felt around a man in my whole life. i felt hope about everything. makes me feel like a little kid on Christmas with her little barbie truck. Jesus Christ i might fall for him.

a/n: thank all of you guys for being sooo patient with me❤️❤️ luv you guys soo much

Taglist:

@iluvjakeyy @spicybabysworld @monroesturnns @sturniolo-fann @bernardsbendystraws @hysteria-things @ashlishes

[sweetbillwriting]

Way Out of Line

ONE

Beneath my perfume and make-up I'm just a baby in disguise. And though I know that it's wrong to be alone with him that "come on look" is in my eyes.

Character: Keith Toshko from Barbarian (2022) played by Bill Skarsgård.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

Notes: Merry Christmas! 🎀 I present my newest story now because it's set at Christmas. This story will be full of subjects that can provoke and a theme many recognize. The french is google translate!

Silver Bells, Silver Bells… It's Christmas time in the city…

I looked at the mountain of gifts in front of me on the floor. It was silly I still received so many Christmas presents and that my parents still said it was from Santa Claus. I was twenty-one years old, a whole woman, but I still got everything from my wish list. I sat and looked at an eyeshadow palette from Dior, swatching the shades on my hand while my dad sat and looked at me like I was still his five-year-old little girl. I would always be his little girl, even if I went to college and had my own car. Or technically it was his, but it was mine. What would he have done with a little white beetle?

“Are you happy with your gifts, Jacqueline honey?” Asked my mom when she came into the room, carrying her coffee mug. She was still dressed in her red robe that matched my red pajamas.

“Oh yes, thank you so much, I mean Santa,” I said with a giggle and laid the palette on the neat pile of gifts by the well-decorated Christmas tree. My mom smiled, pleased, and sat down next to my dad, who also drank his morning coffee.

“When will the others be here?” I asked as I stood up, ready to take a shower and make myself ready for our Christmas guests. It was my older brother with his family and my aunt with hers. There would be thirteen people, and I would sit by the kids table as usual. I didn't complain because I had never had a reason to leave the table, and I probably had more in common with my teenage cousins than the grown-ups.

“They will be here at one, but you know Jason is always early,” my mom said looking at her phone, probably checking for Christmas greetings on Facebook. I nodded a little before leaving my parents in our Christmas-decorated living room to walk to my bedroom on the second floor. I had my own en suite bathroom there and could take the time I needed. It was just family, so it wasn't really that important to look great, but it felt better to do my full routine even if no one would touch my smooth legs or check if my eyeliner was completely even.

While I stood in front of my mirror, after my shower, there was a knock on the door, and in confusion, I answered, “yes.”

“Can I come in?” my mom asked, against the door. Doubtfully I opened it even if I was just dressed in a white spaghetti top and panties, but my mom didn't seem to think about that; she just looked at me with big eyes.

“Would it be okay if you took Jason's old room for a few days?”

My first thought was that my aunt and her family would sleep over, but a few days sounded like a very long time.

“What? Why?” I looked around in my bathroom, all my expensive things and light colors. Children were not allowed in there. My mom looked stressed, fixing the red jacket of her velour tracksuit over and over.

“Your dad's friend, Keith, has suddenly showed up.”

I looked at Mom with furrowed brows. I have heard about Keith but more in a nostalgic way from my father’s old stories. I knew he was a musician, and my dad had been close friends with him when they went to college but seemed to have drifted away because of their different lifestyles.

“Why? It's Christmas Day? You can't just show up on Christmas Day?” I said, pulling out a drawer under the sink to search for a warmer shade for my lip pencil. My mom leaned against the marble sink and sighed.

“He has separated. Seems like he has been kicked out and needs somewhere to sleep. Awful woman who kicks him out on Christmas morning!”

“Maybe he is a pig? Maybe he has cheated? Or he's abusive? I dunno, men can be trash.” I continued to search for the right pencil, comparing them to each other. My mom shook her head but then looked at me seriously.

“So can he take your room?”

I had forgotten about the question, and when she asked it again, I felt my hackles go up. Some cheating, gross man would not sleep in my bed.

“Why? He can take Jason's room?”

“Yours is the only one with a bathroom. If he will live here for a while, he can't use the bathroom in the hallway all the time.”

I crossed my arms and pouted.

“Why not? I can't just move all my stuff to Jason's room!”

“We’ll move the important things, and he will let you in to get stuff. I'm sure of it! Keith is nice!”

I made a frustrated sound and pouted, trying to make my mom feel sorry for me, but she started to go through my drawers and cabinets, probably to see what I actually needed to move into the other room.

“Mom...! I whined and stomped my foot like a toddler but didn't get a reaction. Instead, I walked out to my room and looked at its cream color palette. It was so light, fresh, and clean, and a man would absolutely destroy that. I had never even had a guy in my bed, and I wanted it to be that way. I didn't like the smell of heavy cologne or cheap hair products.

“He will destroy something!”

“He will not,” sighed my mom as she walked out from the bathroom too, looking at my room. I think the both of us found things that were a bit embarrassing. My prizes from spelling competitions, my old children's books and movies, but also a super old picture of me and my high school boyfriend I still hadn't thrown out. There were leftovers from my time as a teenage girl in the room; it wasn't a grown woman's bedroom completely.

“Maybe you should stuff some things away…” My mom said gently while looking at my collection of seashells that lay spread out on the windowpane. Once again I huffed in frustration, but Mom didn't care.

“I'll go and find some linen for him, and you can start to move your things to Jason's room.”

I watched my mom leave while I stayed in the middle of my room with crossed arms. I didn't want to leave my room to a stranger. It felt intrusive, and I wondered if he would go through my stuff, read my journals, sniff my panties, or something. I had so much makeup he could break, and he maybe would leave hair and body fluids on my stuff, but my mom had made the decision. I knew she wouldn't change her mind, but I knew there was maybe another way to go, and that was to ask Keith.

I pulled on a pair of silky baby blue pajama shorts with my spaghetti tank. I fixed my hair, long and flowy, and then my makeup the sweet and girly way I've noticed other men liked. I maybe wasn't so experienced in having relationships with men, but I knew how to get their attention and use it for my own gain. Every good-looking girl knew that.

I walked down the stairs while practicing what I would say in my head. I would talk to my dad so Keith could overhear my fake sadness, and say to him how I can't sleep somewhere else. When my dad would say no, because he would, even if it pained him, just because he couldn't go against my mom, I would leave and go by Keith and say hello to him. I would look sad with shiny eyes but sweet and kind, playing with my long hair and fluttering my long lashes. I would brush my hair over my shoulders so he could see my chest, and I would play with the bow in the front of my shorts. I felt quite sure that he would give in.

When I had descended the stairs, I tried to locate my father and listened for sounds and heard someone sniffle in the living room. Knowing that my dad had a cold for a long time, I was sure it was him and prepared myself to look like his sad little girl. I walked into the big living room, looking around the corner by the open fireplace to see if my dad sat on one of the couches, but he wasn’t; instead, another man sat there.

I had never seen a photo of Keith, and I had never thought anything else other than that he was the same age as my dad, but the man who sat on the couch was probably just a few years over 30 and also looked handsome, even if his face was covered by his two big hands. He was crying, and something told me it had been far worse earlier because his hands shook, and in front of him on the table lay several used napkins. He sniffled again and dragged the back of his hand over his eyes, and it was then he saw me.

Both of us looked surprised at one another. In silence, we looked at each other up and down. I couldn't say how he saw me or why we didn't say anything. I just knew I was looking at a really attractive man with big, sad eyes.

“Are you okay?” I said carefully, and he smiled sadly and nodded. My first instinct was to run from him, run from the awkward moment of seeing a grown man cry, but my curiosity took over, and I felt a need to know more. Slowly I walked up to him and sat down in the other corner of the couch with my feet pulled up.

“Are you Keith?”

“Yeah… You must be Jacqueline?” He changed his position so he sat more towards me. I nodded a little and looked away in embarrassment after having looked at him a bit too long.

“Thank you for letting me come like this to you… And on top of that, take your room. I understand if that doesn't feel good; I can sleep wherever-”

“It's okay. It's okay,” I interrupted with a smile even if I had felt something completely different before. He dried his cheeks and smiled with a lowered gaze that made him look boyish even if he probably was ten years older than me. A giggle escaped my lips, but it caused him to just look at me with a bigger smile.

“I can show you the room...”

“Oh, thank you,” he said and stood up with me. He was much taller than me, and I got a tingle in my stomach that moved down lower when I looked at him up and down discreetly.

Been an awful good girl. Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight…

He walked behind me up the broad stairs, and I wondered how his view looked. How much of my ass could he see? Could he see how closely I've shaved my legs?

My cheeks heated like I've been sitting by an open fire, but thankfully my makeup covered a bit of it. I stepped into my room a bit embarrassed but also overwhelmed over having such a big man so close to me. His presence was almost overbearing, and I could feel my heart beating faster and faster.

He took some steps into the room and looked around at the interior, but I just looked at him. He was the first guy, except family members, who had been into my bedroom. He had on a pair of loose lounge pants that sat more tightly over his ass and also in the front, and I couldn't stop myself from looking. I could feel a pulse in my nether regions that made me squirm a little in my place. I had never had the feeling of wanting to be close to a man before just by looking at him, but there was something special with him, but I couldn't say if it was his eyes, lips, or body that made my limbs get soft.

Just by reflex I looked up at his face and met his questioning look.

“Hm?” I said, laying a hand over one of my glowing cheeks.

“I should give you a gift; it's Christmas, and you let me sleep in your bed and… Yeah, it's really nice of you. I should give you a gift.”

I smiled at him sweetly even if my thoughts were far from sweet. Something had taken over me after just meeting Keith, and my otherwise sweet thoughts were dripping with promiscuity. The only gift I wanted from him was to be able to share my bed with him and feel that Christmas spirit taking over us completely.

All I want for Christmas is you…

×××

Have a holly jolly Christmas; it's the best time of the year…

I wore a velvety burgundy dress with a big white collar and a black bow in my half-updo hairstyle. I had always dressed sweet at Christmas, going back to my childhood style, but I felt silly when I stood next to Keith. He was in a deep conversation with my brother about some soul artist I had never heard of, so I stood awkwardly next to them and just listened. During family celebrations, I most often was with my sixteen-year-old cousin Savannah, but I was afraid Keith would see me as a teenager if I was with her and talked about young actors and influencers.

The men continued to talk over my head while I played with my fingers nervously. Earlier, before my 28-year-old brother began talking to Keith, it was he who had been awkward. It was understandable; he would celebrate Christmas with a family he didn't really know, invited due to unfortunate events. He didn't seem to have had much clothing with him either because he had one of my dad's plaid button-ups on, but he still wore the gold band on his left hand. I didn't know what to think about it because I had no idea how it was to be separated, but I still thought he should have taken it off; he had been thrown out on Christmas.

“Chéri, aide-moi au lieu de rester là comme un imbécile.”

My mom began to carry out the dinner to the table and told me to help with a snappy voice. I woke up from my deep thoughts and met Keith's eyes. I couldn't read him, and I swallowed hard before giving him a shy smile. My brother mentioned another musician, and Keith turned his eyes to him quickly to be able to follow the conversation and made me feel silly that I believed he would give me his attention. I started to help my mother, even if my hands shook, and from nerves I did everything thoughtless and messy. My mom groaned, irritated, and fixed the cutlery I knocked into and moved the serving plates I put in the wrong place.

“Tu vas bien? Tu es si maladroit aujourd'hui.”

My mom asked if I felt alright but more irritated than caring, and I looked at her tired; she always stressed on Christmas.

“Je vais bien j'ai juste un peu mal dormi.”

I blamed my sleep and shrugged my shoulders. My mom accepted my excuse, but when she walked back to the kitchen, I looked towards the living room, where I could see Keith now talking with my aunt's husband. I wished I could join them and talk with ease and charm to him, but I didn't even dare to go up to him again. It felt like I had stood awkwardly next to him too much this evening. Instead, I stayed by the dinner table still just as awkward and looked at him with wide eyes. He didn't look like any other guy I've met, and he was so tall he was towering over my whole family. Even if he looked so manly, he moved softly and had a kind aura.

“Are you avoiding me or something?” Savannah had walked up to me with crossed arms.

“What? No.” I looked down at the table and pretended to correct a glass.

“Good.” She pulled out a chair and began playing with a fork, something I would never dare to do because of my mom.

“Do you keep up with Barry Keoghan?” She said excitedly, like it was the most important thing in life. I gave her a fast look and right after that at Keith. If he walked in and heard me talk about such shallow things, he would never talk with me for real.

“I must help Mom…” I said instead and gave Savannah a shoulder shrug.

There wasn't much left to do, and just minutes later, everything was ready. I took a last look at the tables. The dining table sat seven people, and then the other table sat six. I would sit at the smaller table, the kids table. I looked at the childish napkins and the soda in the middle and then thought about Keith. I would sit at the kids table. I felt a weird mix of panic and shame and looked at my mom, who took a last look at the arrangement. It was now or never.

“I want to sit with the grown-ups.”

I sounded like an eleven-year-old that wanted to play adult, and I felt my cheeks glow. My mom turned to me and looked at me confused, but then she shook her head. She gave me a sharp no in French.

“Why?” I whined and felt the panic even harder.

“It's good you're there and can help the younger kids.”

“But Savannah is there!”

“I said no,” said my mom with a louder voice, probably to make me give up, just like she did when I was a kid. That got my dad's attention, and he peeked into the dining room looking confused.

“What is it?”

“I want to sit with the adults. I'm 21! But Mom won’t let me!”

My dad gave my mom a look with furrowed brows. For many years he had felt that I should have a spot at the adult table, so for him it was given that I would change seats. My mom looked at us and then sighed and muttered something in French I couldn't hear. I didn't care what she said because I had won, and I couldn't hide my big smile… It wasn't really that I wanted to sit with the adults; the thought made me slightly nervous, but it was a relief to not look like a kid in front of Keith.

I'll have a blue Christmas without you. I'll be so blue just thinking about you…

Savannah looked hurt when she saw the kids table get filled up while I stood by the dinner table. I had taken a seat at the end where I knew my dad would sit. It felt safe to have one of my parents close, even if I knew everyone except Keith around the table. I looked at an empty seat, and that's when I realized the only seat left for Keith was the one right next to me. I stared out in front of me, scared to look toward my side when he walked up and filled my nose with a warm, musky scent.

“Is it okay if I sit next to you?” He asked, and I gave him a glance. I stared right into his chest, forgetting how tall he was, and looked away again. I gave him a little nod, then looked at my father, speaking to my brother, while standing by the chair next to him and opposite of Keith.

“Thank you…” Keith mumbled, and I gave him one more glance, this time remembering his eyes were higher up than mine. I met the green of his iris, and he gave me a smile before he took a hold of my chair and pulled it out for me. I didn't know where to look because to me that was a thing guys did on a date, or at least for a woman they were attracted to. I looked at my father, afraid he would be upset with Keith, but my dad shared a smirk with Keith, his friend, who just did it playfully to amuse his little daughter.

Keith let go of the chair when he realized I hadn't sat down, and I could see my dad looking on still amused, as if he had made fun of me. I felt the shame rise again but tried to swallow it down because I really wanted to make a good impression in front of Keith. I didn't really know why. It wasn't like I believed anything would happen between us, that I had a chance with a married man, but I wanted to be able to at least pretend something could happen between us.

I sat down, trying to do it smoothly, like a lady, and then looked at Keith when he had sat down next to me. I could feel my cheeks heat, like they had many times that day, but I pretended like it wasn't there. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to feel I was closer to him.

“How old are you?”

As soon as I heard what question I had picked, I bit my tongue. I had so many questions, but clearly my mouth had chosen the question I wanted an answer to the most. Keith smiled a little and took the wine bottle in front of him and the cork screw that lay next to it.

“Younger than your dad, if that's what you're wondering.”

Instead of looking at me, he looked towards my dad so he could gain his attention. “I'm not an old man!”

My dad laughed and threw out a finger towards Keith.

“Still, you look older than I do, Toshko!”

Keith laughed like it was impossible, and then they continued their banter. I sat and looked between them with a small smile even if I wasn't amused. I wanted a real answer to my question and had a silly thought about how I didn't want Keith and Dad being friends, even if that was the reason why Keith was in our home.

The men quit joking when my mom came to my father to ask him something, and Keith looked at me again.

“I'm 38. So yeah, a bit younger than your dad.” He smiled kindly at me, and I could see small lines around his eyes. He was almost 40. My dad was 47, so the age difference wasn't as big as I had thought between them. The age difference between me and Keith was bigger, though. 17 years.

“You're 20, right? I think you were, like, four when I met your dad.”

“21…” I stared at his big hands while he opened the wine bottle skillfully and I felt something itching in my stomach.

“Did you meet me then?” My voice was small.

“No, it never got that way.” He shrugged his shoulders, then showed me the bottle.

“Wine?”

I looked between his handsome face and the bottle before shaking my head. 

××× 

Santa, tell me if you're really there. Don't make me fall in love again…

I had said to myself that I wouldn't be with Savannah so much to make a more grown-up impression in front of Keith, but after he had told me his age, I gave that up. After dinner I played cards with her and her fifteen-year-old brother and then watched Miracle on 34th Street with the rest of my cousins. How Keith would see me as an adult felt impossible when he had heard about me since I was three years old. I would be a little girl in his mind forever. 

I saw him drink whiskey, smoke a cigar with my uncle, and was loud in that obnoxious way only middle-aged men could be. My ex had been a boy, a boy who liked tennis and Fortnite. I shook my head to myself when I thought about it but still felt an exciting curiosity when I looked at him. He smiled at me a few times, and a couple of times I succeeded in smiling back, but that was the only contact we had the rest of the day until it was time for me to go to bed. 

After my brother, Savannah, and all the others had left, I helped my mom in the kitchen so there wouldn't be so much work to do the next day. Both of us could feel the tiredness in our eyes and bodies and looked at each other confused when we could still hear my dad laugh loudly from the living room. On past Christmas Days he had even fallen asleep before the guests had gone home, but now he listened to jazz, drank, and laughed with Keith in the living room. He seemed to have lost ten years on his age by having Keith there, and I could see my mom was annoyed. She probably wanted to be able to lie down in bed with him because she marched out to them and told him sourly it was time to go to bed. I smirked, amused in my loneliness, because with age, my mom's diva behavior started to become funny instead of scary or annoying. I walked up to my room, skipping on saying goodnight so I wouldn't need to wait for them to finish their nagging. I was tired and lost in thought, so I forgot an important thing: I wasn’t sleeping in my bedroom. It was loaned out to someone else, but I just walked in and, in my sleepiness, closed the door and started to take off my clothes. 

I thought about Keith's marriage while I pulled off my tights. Who was his wife? How long had they been married? 

I thought about their separation while I pulled off my dress. Why did she kick him out? Would they make up? 

I thought about who he was as a husband while I pulled off my bra. Was he loyal? Was he romantic? Was he a generous lover? 

When I stood in my panties, laying my clothes on an armchair in the corner of the room,I heard a creek and looked towards the door that was being opened determinedly. I concealed my chest but didn't do more than that to cover my modesty. In my mind it could only be my mother. No one else would just open my door like that, but in the doorframe stood Keith, so tall his messy hair licked the top of the doorframe. I looked towards him in confusion for a few seconds. His eyes showed shock at first, but then we both seemed to relax under each other's gaze. I could feel him looking at my body from top to toe, and I basked in how his eyes glittered.

“I can take the other bedroom…” he said as he smirked a little. The smirk made me feel a sensation take over me, and a need for rebellion came over me, so I let go of my chest slowly. Keith swallowed hard but his smile grew while dragged a hand over his face. He looked over his shoulder like he was afraid someone would come, but at that moment I didn't care. He pulled his lip and shook his head a little. 

“Um... Good night.” 

“Good night,” I said, with a teasing smile, playing with my hair while I walked to my bed, letting him see my breasts in motion. I didn't know where the confidence came from, probably just seeing his eyes swimming with attraction and his cheeks rosy. 

“Merry… Merry Christmas,” he mumbled before taking a last look and closing the door to my bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the door for a few seconds before starting to giggle. I couldn't believe I had done that. I couldn't believe how he had looked at me. Keith was a grown man. A tall, sexy man. 38 years old. But he was also a friend to my dad. 

×

[jojo-schmo]

I wish I could tell the original artist that this drawing permanently changed the entire direction of my life in 2009. I want to shake their hand, look them in the eye, and admit I would not be who I am today if this drawing didn’t exist.

EDIT: Original artist is @ivynajspyder !!!!

[clottedscream]

the discord cooked up a real world setting au so i made some semi-realistic-but-not-really portraits of the museum trio to go with it

[thedrotter]

this idea to me in a vision ... ive become a shrimp as a consequence from sitting at my chair but anythign for a yuu drawing🔥🔥

[crossbackpoke-check]

do you guys um. mods asleep anyone on the dash want to read 1.5k of roman history (tatd) fic i would be christening (haha) the tag for. and also help brainstorm with me to make it more than a scene but not an entire Plot 🙏

[sergle]

also for folks who ask if I could try medical tourism instead: Technically I Could, Yes... that’s on the list of possibilities. only problem: adding even MORE steps to the process of getting my surgery kind of makes me want to cry.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Does anyone know where I can find the good quality version of this image? It's so frustrating because when cross searching on google it'll tell me the original quality is 850x478, but I can't find a way to download it in that quality. This is another version of the image (I'm guessing it's Mayoi promo art):

But I liked the clean white background one...

[nat-20s]

Logically I know that you shouldn't do creative work (such as a podcast) in order to become a peer with other creatives but also like oooooo there are so many creatives I'd love to actually interact with oooo I'd love to collab on something OOOOO I would love to have a voice actor that I know from another podcast in my own podcast

[nemotakeit]

i remember the first time ever i listened to SO i was like pfft rap? get out. (i was cringe) and then when i gave it a listen again a few months later i was a changed person... so i binge listened to their entire discography immediately and was genuinely shocked because how could ALL of their songs be bangers, like i couldn't believe it was possible it was surreal........ i wish i could turn back time (lol) to experience that pure shock again

[writing2sirvive]

In the last two days I have walked into the room to see my dad watching something with an actor from Stargirl in it. Twice.

I think this is the universe telling me it’s time for a rewatch.

[boyapologist]

why did you guys had to like that damn post about patbri. I just went through a 2020 spiral