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cxvii666 · 3 months ago

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"WHY'S THIS DEALER? TAKING THE PISS?!"

stoner! hanta sero x dealer! reader

cw: recreational drug use, bad language, reader is a dealer (loosely based on my last encounter with a fem plug), idiots in love, 21st century love at first sight,

- eventually will be a multi part fic im prolly gonna upload on ao3 but for now standalone

(i make myself laugh)

and here's part two and three :p

it's all denki's fault.

i mean it's normally denki's fault, (with a mixture of himself, kirishima, and mina, depending on the context, the situation, or, who bakugou is most mad at), but this time, it is DEFINITELY ALL DENKI'S FAULT.

"dude cmonnnnn. i already promised everyone i'd score for the party."

trust denki kaminari to make promises he can't keep.

so this is where hanta sero ends up, on the corner of the road, in miserable weather, freezing his ass off, waiting for this dealer. it's just gone half ten and hanta's not a fool, so when he saw the "i'll be der for 10" message pop up on his phone, he didn't leave his dorm till quarter past. but now his vape is dead, his phone is on like 10%, and his fingertips are cold, so yeah, he's a little bit pissed off. pissed at himself for not buying a new geek bar, pissed at denki for begging and whining and promising to 'let him have first draw', and pissed at this dickhead for taking their sweet time.

it's a new guy, the dealer. well at least, the number denki gave him was different than usual and their style of texting was nothing like the guy he usually picks up from. hanta likes to think he's relatively chill dude, but if this fucker, who charges even more for a 3.5, doesn't hurry up, he's gonna crash out.

after another slow ten minutes and another "yh man im almost there" text, a car finally pulls up in front of him. he stamps out what's left of his roll up and pushes himself off the fence he was leaning on as the car window slides down.

hanta fumbles and nearly drops his phone out of his hands when he sees you, sat in the drivers seat.

pretty half lidded eyes stare at him, he thinks he hears kendrick playing from your aux but he can't be sure because he's so caught up in you. fingers tapping rhythmically against the wheel, you look up at him through your lashes and call out slow and tired,

"sero, yeah?"

and, oh my god, his family name has never sounded better than it did coming from your plush lips.

he nods dumbly before realising that you probably can't see him very well in the dim lighting of the side road. "yeah. yeah, that's me," he coughs out, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible.

you face breaks out into a shy smile directly contrasting the cold stare down you'd be giving him before unlocking the car.

"omg, cool! sorry for making you wait so long! i know it's cold, d'you wanna hop in the passage seat rq?" and hanta doesn't even have time to internally debate the pros and cons of getting into a complete strangers car, because his feet are already carrying him across the road and into your front seat.

as he settles into your passenger seat, you slide your chair back the slightest and start rummaging around in a clearly well loved black leather handbag. hanta tries to still, or at least calm, his beating heart. you look strangely familiar, like he's met you in a dream or something. he takes a deep breath and remarks how your car smells faintly of oranges and you begin, "so who gave you my number?"

"kaminari-"

"wow" you laugh, your top lip curling slightly, teeth showing, hanta thinks your so pretty, "you know kaminari? damn, that guy's in my prac maths class and he's-"

suddenly hanta cringes internally, mind flashing back to a scene, maybe a couple days ago, of him and denki hitting blinkers at the bus shelter outside campus, talking about something stupid, them joking about hanta's apparent lack of game (which is not true at all), and denki saying something about some pretty girl in his class who he smokes with sometimes and, in his words, was, 'exactly y'er type bro'.

"he's one of my roommates." is all he says though his lazy smile tenses slightly, no way denki planned this, right?

you hardly notice, rambling about your maths module, and the lack of work that got done between the two of you. you're trying to keep your voice even and not take too many glances at the hot guy, sero hanta, kaminari's cute roommate, who you had instagram stalked literally on the way over, while you were stuck in traffic, because you'd seen him on the blonde's story. it was some badly taken photo of a group of four guys all sat on top of each other on the same couch, two of them laughing, four beers and an open pack of amber leaf on the table. but sero, cheesing at the camera, sat on the thigh of a different blonde who seemed literal seconds away from punching his lights out, had caught your eye.

so to have him here, in your car, right next to you. so close you could practically smell him, and he smelt gooood, the standard stoner boy scent that you expected but with a mix of something spicy, lord-

when you finally look up to him from where you've been digging in your bag, phone in hand, hanta shuffles with the dead vape in his pocket trying to make it less obvious he'd spent the better part of five minutes just staring at you.

"speak of the devil." you shake your phone at hanta to take and on the screen is a recent chat between you and his best friend as well as a snap of him clearly drunk yelling at the camera from five- five minutes ago??

"he's so unserious." you laugh again, and take your phone back from hanta typing out a quick response then clicking your phone off. "you wanted an eighth yeah?"

hanta nods dumbly, still kinda shocked that denki pulled this off without him realising, and you pull out a little plastic bag with a couple nuggets inside and hand it to him.

he goes to grab the cash in pocket but you stop him with a gentle arm to his shoulder.

you drop your arm quick enough, overthinking your next actions but say anyway, "don't worry 'bout this one, yeah-"

"-what? nah 's fine i've got cash," he trails off, you're looking at him, beautiful wide eyes.

"no i've already made up my mind," you grin slowly at his slightly flustered state and for a moment neither of you talk. the song has long sinced changed and your radio is now playing an old rnb track he doesn't recognise but he finds himself relaxed in your presence.

"besides, i made you wait for so long, and," you continue quickly, your smile even wider, as hanta tilts his head to hide his flustered face. "you're a friend of a friend, right?"

when he finally makes his way back to the party, denki's there, cheesing like an idiot, and when bakugou asks why he took forever, and he parrots him "yeaah, sero, what took you so long?" slick as shit, hanta can't even bring himself to be pissed.

yeah it was denki's fault, but the weight of your number, your actual number, with your first name and a '<3' next to it, in his phone makes it worth it.

he throws the baggie of whats left of the bud to his 'friend' who is still wiggling his eyebrows and steals a vape off the table.

"dude stfu or i'm never picking up for you again."

#sero hanta x reader #sero hanta #hanta sero x reader #SERO HANTA MY GLORIOUS UNDERRATED KING #mha x reader #my hero academia #bnha #bnha x reader #denki kaminari x reader #mha #mha college au #mha smau #ten writes trash #sero hanta x black reader #sero nation

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farawaybreadohere · 7 months ago

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well I'm going through a phase rn so /j

#but in all seriousness I am in hell cuz of love #like having a crush on someone #i hate it so much #I know pain comes with falling in love with someone #BUT NAH I DONT WANNA HAVE THIS EVER AGAIN #and not necause the person here is bad #emoji was not sent to said person but a best friend of mine #dear lord did they help me out without even realising it #could have a chance of getting out of this hellhole #they think they shouldn't have gotten involved with it but MY GOD #hoooo the relief honestly #well part of it #haven't explained this to them cuz it's late rn #tomorrow I will #this sounds so bad out of context I realise #anyway #ramble over #(I might delete this later honestly)

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project-sekai-facts · 1 year ago

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Hey I've been wondering, could you explain Akito and his death symbolism? It's been constantly mentioned or implied in his recent focus songs and VBS covers (getting lines about "death" or "dying" and the likes)

It's just because the fandom is using that to mischaracterize him as an overly depressed and suicidal guy (another Mafuyu copy; pls save him and Tsukasa) and I just don't think that's what the writers mean to say and the point of his whole character!!!

(prefacing this: I'm aware there was a thread about this going round twitter a while ago, I haven't read it specifically because of this ask and if anything is the same that wasn't intentional and I apologise)

A large part of Akito's character arc is his difficulty with improvement and his sheer determination and passion that goes alongside it. He had always viewed his lack of natural talent and unrefined skills as something that made him inferior, which only led to him pushing himself to his extremes, and trying to face things independently and head-on. This is something that's touched on heavily in the STRAY BAD DOG event, where we get to see him learn to rely on his teammates more and realise that he isn't alone. Find A Way Out continues his arc of personal development, with him realising he's actually not so different to the people he looks up to, and finally learning to accept and feel confident with his improvement instead of just pushing forward almost desperately. It's that idea of him finally realising that he won't always be a step behind everyone else and good things are actually coming with his hard work.

Building off that idea, it's like a sort of rebirth. And that's where the links to Kashika come in. Kashika is a song about death and longing which gets horribly misinterpreted and has led people to believe Akito is suicidal which is simply untrue. The thing that's dying in this context is Akito's old self. The child who had no talent and was falling so far behind everyone. The child who worked so, so, so hard to be perfect is dying. And that sounds like a negative thing but it's really not. It's a metaphor for Akito reflecting on himself and moving on from the past and breaking new ground.

The 2DMV adds another layer to this with its marigolds, which not only symbolise death, but also can symbolise a renewal. And in this case, renewal refers to Akito's growth following the events of FAWO. He finally faced up to his past mistakes and overcame them, but even then he won't let himself feel relief. It's only with the help of Taiga's story about Ken that he's finally able to be more satisfied with himself and how far he's managed to come. He's finally able to break out from that belief that he's forever going to be stuck behind, and he's able to have faith in himself. Realising that Ken was just like him and managed to get to such a high level of skill and be so respected by those around him finally lets Akito believe that he too can reach that same light.

The butterflies in the background again symbolise renewal or transformation. It's not about death as per se, it's about change. Change and growth and transformation are recurring themes in prsk's character writing, and Akito is no exception. While on a surface level, Kashika is about death, if you put it next to the story, it's about regeneration. Akito is moving forward and leaving the old him behind, he says as much in the FAWO story.

If you actually read the lyrics to Kashika, it's genuinely kinda shocking to me how much people misinterpret its connection to Akito as a character. Like I get the song talks about death a lot and wanting to die, but particularly in these extracts you can see some of the key points of the FAWO event - Akito's determination, passion and self-acceptance. It's a song about Akito growing up, physically and emotionally, and saying goodbye to his past self.

Now as anon pointed out, the marigolds previously appeared in his card from Light Up The Fire. And while in the case of this event, it was most likely drawn to connect with the story surrounding Nagi's death, but it's worth mentioning that every character had their own flower, so the marigolds are specific to him.

As I mentioned in today's fact, aside from being associated with death, grief, and mourning, marigolds can also have positive connotations of optimism and passion based on their warm and vibrant colors. One of the key elements of LUTF was despair and grief, shown through more ways than one. Whilst the truth of Nagi's death came as a shock to the VBS and the others, the following battle with Taiga crushed their hope to the point that everyone except VBS gave up. VBS decides to keep trying for Nagi, and again there's that idea of a renewal. They know the truth now, and are going to come back and get better. Now while this is more general about VBS, the marigolds are still specific to Akito, considering how he's always been the most determined one who has taught himself that the only way he can succeed is through sheer perseverance. Whilst it applies to all of VBS in this instance, it applies even moreso to him.

Also it leads very nicely into his fes card story, which follows after the events of LUTF from his point of view. Something notable about his fragment sekai is that it's a completely barren wasteland. It's dead. And to top it all off, he gets amnesia. However the whole point of his sekai is to remind him of his determination, remind him that he has never once given up on this dream, how he's fought and fought to hold onto it and shouldn't let what happened with Taiga and the truth behind RW strike him down. Despite the area being dead and barren, and despite the fact he can't even remember who he is at all, he still pushes forwards and keeps walking through the dangerous environment because he knows he can't just sit around, he knows he has to do something. He knows it's not a choice, it's a necessity for him to persevere, even if he can't remember why. In the end he does remember, and finds a single flower that is managing to flourish despite the harsh conditions, and he even compares himself to it because truthfully they're one in the same. Even in a hopeless situation, Akito manages to pull through. In a metaphorical sense, he can't truly die, he still finds a way to thrive even if the world is against him. His determination truly is the core of his character.

And that leads us nicely to BURN MY SOUL, which I would consider to be the end of his first character arc. Despite having learnt a lesson about his true strength and potential in FAWO, he still hasn't reached that full potential, and he still believes that he needs to keep pushing and keep working. Through Ken's advice, he's able to realise that he's been so focused on perfection that he's bottling up all the passion inside of him. Because he's so passionate about music and it's this passion that fuels his resolve that is ultimately his core, his soul. And especially after everything that's happened, the fact that there's still a lingering sense of despair after the incident with Taiga, he needs to truly let that passion burn and realise that his true potential has been inside of him all along. His role as assigned by Ken is to light up a fire amongst the people again, so he let's the fire within him burn freely for the first time, and it works exactly as needed and is able to rekindle hope throughout the town and in one of his teammates.

Back to that idea about how metaphorically Akito cannot die, I really like the symbolism of fire within VBS and Akito in particular because it's framed in such a way that the fire lit by RW is a flame that can't burn out. Even with things such as CRaZY's "I'm so ready to die" and the "I'm going to pry it open like I'm going to die" voiceline that plays when you pull his WL card, it's not meant in such a way that he wants to die, but in a way that he's going to put his all into it as if it is the last thing he'll ever do. Akito doesn't want to die, he wants to live to see things through to the end. He's too determined to let anything snuff out his flame, and even then that makes me think of the original usage of snuffing out a flame, which was actually to trim the wick so the flame could burn brighter. If you care enough about that dumb candle analogy, you could say that Taiga/the events of LUTF tried to extinguish Akito's flame, only for him to come back from the dead (and quite literally considering the wasteland in his fes card), and now he's only burning brighter and stronger.

Akito's death symbolism isn't a negative thing. Akito isn't someone who wants to die, he's too determined to die. No matter how much the universe tells him to give up he'll never stop pushing and never stop breaking down the walls around him until he sees his dreams through. All his death symbolism is equally tied to the idea of rebirth or even just living. Kashika is about him leaving his past behind and moving forward, his fes card is about his passion counteracting despair, and Burn my soul/CRaZY/Break down the wall are all about him being so fired up that he's going to act as if it's his final day. He's learning to be satisfied with his life and where he is. He's ready to live and to say he wants to die is a great injustice to his character arc.

#sorry this kinda just became an akito character analysis but. i think atp you're all just used to it #asks #mod talks #akito shinonome

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santanasaintmendes · 5 months ago

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“crazy, crazy, crazy for you baby. . . ”

“what can I do honey? i feel like the colour blue”

wc!: 3.5k words + smau insta post (i just can’t write small fics im sorry 😔)

pepe martí x fem!reader

type: angst + fluff ending

warnings: mentions of barfing (not in detail), swearing, angsty, jumping out of a window (jokingly), embarrassing reader 😓 if there are anymore let me know!

summary: you and pepe have the cute teenage love most people would be jealous of, but with the two of you busy with your own things is it as perfect as it may seem?

requested by @cwafffle 💖

a/n: thank you so much for requesting this! I had an absolute blast writing it, i’ve never written something so intense lol anyways enjoy, I hope it’s as good as you hoped!

Love isn’t perfect, it’s something everybody knows. So surely loving someone should be worth hurting this much for . . . right?

Your relationship with Pepe used to be perfect, everything you’d dreamt of and more.

It wasn’t always like this, the hurting and the endless waiting for one another to meet the other half way. Although it may seem like a century ago, you and Pepe were once happy. Dating him was like a dream you never wanted to come out of. Pepe was your first ever boyfriend, the two of you attended the same high school in Barcelona where he was in your classes. Initially you never paid attention to him much, sitting on the other side of the classroom near the window.

But he took the crown whenever it came to popularity contests, he always had a bunch of people - mostly girls, following him around and by the looks of it he enjoyed it. Everyone knew how impressive he was at karting, by the time you were both 15 he was up and ready to make his debut in Formula 4.

The first time he ever spoke to you was when you were both appointed partners for a science project. “You’re Y/N, right?” a voice asked, sending your train of thoughts spiralling as you looked up from your textbook. Pepe stood next to you, peering down at you, eyebrows raised. You sent him a brief nod, “Yep.” you said awkwardly as he took a seat next to you. The two of you sat in silence as the teacher called out other students’ names. Slowly, you turned your head to look at the boy who was sitting beside you. You’d heard all sorts of things about the famous star of your school, Pepe Marti but you’d never thought you’d be partnered up to do a project of all things. His hair was jet black and . . . he had pretty eyes and-

Pepe must’ve sensed you staring at him because he met your gaze, “You okay. . .?” he asked. Your cheeks immediately flushed red as you cleared your throat, “Of course, I was just uh . . . looking at the plant behind you?” you stated, looking for the closest thing in your view. You could’ve died right there on the spot as Pepe turned to look at the plant you’d pointed out. It was half dead and withering brown.

He slowly turned back around, nodding slowly, “Um, okay.” he chuckled nervously. You would’ve jumped out of the window if you weren’t in class, he probably thought you were a weirdo now. You nodded along, playing it off very awkwardly. You cleared your throat, “Anyways, my place or yours?” you blurted out, your face twisting into horror as you realised what you’d asked, immediately wanting to dig a grave and jump in. It sounded so bad without context.

“What?” he asked, eyebrows raised in concern. “No wait. What I meant to ask was, do you want to do the project at my house or yours?” you could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up to your cheeks. You just KNEW your face was tomato red as Pepe slowly nodded, “Oh. I don’t mind.”

You winced, as you turned to look out the window, almost wanting to cry of embarrassment. You turned back to Pepe, a forced smile plastered on your face. “Is my house okay then?” you asked, relief washing over you as you finally said something that made sense without embarrassing yourself. He nodded as the bell rang, signalling lunch time, he stood up sending you a brief smile. “See you this afternoon then.”

Surprisingly, when Pepe came over that afternoon to begin the project you managed to keep your cool. Turned out that he was pretty chill and a funny guy, the two of you began to crack jokes and it was like you both clicked. After that, people at school would stare at you as you both would be on the verge of tears from laughing, both lost in your own little world. You learned all about his racing career and his family. As the closer the two of you got, it finally felt like you’d found someone who understood you.

Pepe was by far the kindest and funniest guy you’d ever met and to be fair you’d never really been rather good with boys, but he made being his friend like the easiest thing in the world. You began to feel light and your stomach fluttery whenever you were around him, then it hit you like a whirlwind, you liked him.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to be swept off your feet like that, hell someone could open a door for you and you’d be thinking about it for months. But with Pepe it was different, it felt different. And you couldn’t help but wonder if he liked you the same way.

It was a peaceful November afternoon when Pepe invited you out on a walk, going on walks together wasn’t uncommon for the two of you. He’d just finished his first season of Formula 4 and he couldn’t have been in higher spirits. It hadn’t been a total bust and that’s all he could’ve asked for. There was just one more thing he had to do to seal the deal.

The two of you walked silently through the park, admiring the beautiful colours of the autumn leaves that slowly fell and twirled in the gentle wind. You looked over at Pepe who was staring at his feet as if he was nervous.

“You okay?” you asked, slightly concerned with your friend’s silence since he’d picked you up from your house. He nodded but didn’t meet your eyes so the two of you slowly walked in silence. It was getting weird, the silence, usually Pepe was the one who led the entire conversation, sometimes with even the most randomest things.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Nothing bad happened, right?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Pepe stopped in his tracks and turned to you with an unreadable expression, he was making you nervous. He took a deep breath in as he locked eyes with you, “I like you.”

“I mean we’ve been friends for a while. I think it would be weird if you didn’t like me.” you chuckled but you paused when you saw his expression. OH. OHHHHH.

You felt like slapping yourself in the face, he didn’t mean it like that. He meant it in the way you’ve always wanted him to. Pepe liked you. It hadn’t fully sunk in but you felt like you’d been given laughing gas as you began to laugh uncontrollably much to Pepe’s surprise. This was definitely not going the way he thought it would as you gasped for air, holding onto him for support.

“You are really the weirdest person I know.” he murmured as you regained your composure. You smiled at him teasingly as you wiggled your eyebrows, nudging him playfully.

“But you like me.”

“I’m starting to regret telling you.” he grumbled as he folded his arms across his chest. You smiled at him, it felt like you were in a dream. If it was, you never wanted to be woken up again.

“It’s okay, I like you too.” you replied as you continued walking, leaving a wide-eyed Pepe gaping. He ran to catch up with you, “Wait, are you serious?” he asked, a giant grin on his face.

“Of course, I’m always serious.” you replied earnestly as you admired his dimples that stuck out with his smile. You were playing it cool but inside of you it felt as if you’d gotten struck by Cupid’s arrow, you couldn’t help but have a grin on your face.

“I think this is the part where you ask me out.” you whispered to him, he nodded playing along. “Oh right.” he cleared his throat before taking your hands in his, his gentle touch making your heart flutter as he looked into your eyes.

“Will you, Y/N Y/L/N, go on a date with me?”

You couldn’t help but engulf him in a giant hug, “Of course I will.” you whispered in his ear as he held you. If only you could’ve seen how giant his smile was.

The next few months after that were absolute blissful perfection. Being Pepe’s girlfriend was everything you’d ever dreamt of and more. He was a gentleman through and through. The first ever date he took you on was to a giant amusement park not too far from his house. The day ended with you puking a couple of times after going on the rides but nonetheless it was perfect. The two of you bought popcorn and walked up a hill to watch the sunset. That was when Pepe took you by surprise and kissed you, it wasn’t forced nor rushed it was everything you’d ever wanted.

Pepe soon moved up to Formula 3, his first year brought a lot of challenges and unfortunately wasn’t his greatest year. But you were there to comfort him everytime he wasn’t able to get as far as he thought he would. The second year was a huge improvement though with him winning two sprint races, one in Bahrain and the other in Monaco. Then came his first feature race win in his own country, he felt like he was finally flying.

As you continued in school, the time you both spent together became harder and harder to manage. It was just natural, when Pepe got into Formula 2 his career demanded that he fly further away and more often. You were occupied with your own things, you were studying International Relations and working on the side. Calls and facetiming became less frequent, neither having the time anymore. You selfishly wished Pepe didn’t have to be so far away, that he could be closer to home, closer to you.

But it wasn’t something you could control, you wished you could’ve just ignored how bad it was getting. That you could’ve told yourself it was fine and moved on, but it wasn't fine. You felt alone, and you shouldn’t be feeling that when you’re in a relationship, it didn’t take a genius to understand that. Pepe barely came home anymore, you always slept alone, you always watched movies alone, you always went on walks alone. Things you knew you should’ve been doing with Pepe, but the truth was that he was a million miles away. You knew you could never ask him to leave something he loved so dearly, you just wished that you were a priority in his life. To be the only thing he thought about, to be the thing that brought him home every week.

But the truth?

You’d never be a priority in his life as long as racing was in it. How you wished that you could be okay with his absence, okay with the fact that it felt like you weren’t even in a relationship anymore. You thought the two of you would be able to figure it out, that it would naturally fix itself but that just wasn’t how relationships worked. The thing about relationships?

That no matter how much you can ignore the cracks in your relationship, you’re both going to fall in, no matter what.

It had been a rough couple of months for you especially with Pepe flying all around the world for his next race. He’d texted- not called, you the night before letting you know that he’d be coming home this weekend for the first time in what felt like forever. You told him that you could pick him up from the airport but he insisted that you’d be too tired to, so you told him you’d wait for him at home.

Rain gently pattered against the windows of your apartment that was dimly lit by the lamps in your living room. You were on your computer working on your latest assignment, something you were finding trouble focusing on, all the words seemed to jumble up like they’d been barfed all over your screen. You knew what was distracting you, it was the fact that Pepe was coming home tonight, that you were going to do something you’d never thought you would in a million years. You were going to break up with him.

Just the thought made you sick to your stomach. There was a soft jangle of keys in the front door that made you look up. Pepe walked through the door but he was a couple months too late in your mind. He met your eyes and smiled, “Hola, hermosa.” (Hey gorgeous)

You hated the way he thought that everything was okay, almost like he hadn’t missed you as much as you’d missed him. “Hi.” is all you said in a flat tone. You remained seated on the couch, no more giant hugs or smothering him in kisses, only silence. You looked back at your computer that was still on and shut it. Pepe could sense something was wrong, that you were unhappy, unhappy with him.

“Everything okay. . .?” he asked gently as he set down his bags on the counter top. You stood up, “Are you seriously asking me that?”

Anger began to rise inside of you, you wanted him to know, to understand how much you were hurting, how much you were suffering alone in this relationship.

“I’m always serious, princesa.” (princess) he joked but his smile fell when he saw that you weren’t smiling with him.

“Don’t, don’t do that, you can’t just charm your way out of this.” you told him, “You can’t just pretend like everything’s okay.”

“I’m not, just tell me what’s wrong.” Pepe said defensively. You sighed, “You really don’t know what’s wrong, do you?” you asked him.

“Stop acting like I’m dumb or something, just tell me.” he persisted. You scoffed, pulling away from him as he reached out for you. The hurt in his eyes made you want to run out the front door and never look back.

“You’re never around anymore, you’re so busy with your racing that you barely come home anymore. It’s as if you don’t even live here anymore, we don’t call anymore when you’re away. You leave me here all alone by myself and expect everything to be fine, well guess what? It’s not.” you blurted out everything you’d been keeping in the last few months.

“Oh so it’s all my fault then?” Pepe asked, shaking his head as if disappointed. You took a deep breath in to steady your anger.

“I didn’t say it was all your fault.” you shot back angrily, folding your arms across your chest defensively.

“Yeah well it sure seems like that’s what you’re implying.” he scoffed, oh you just could’ve strangled him. How could he be like this?

“I wasn’t implying anything, I’m just telling you how I feel, but clearly you don’t care at all.” you raised your voice, your hands were already shaking.

“Don’t do that, Y/N.” Pepe warned but you were already too far gone.

“Do what?” you asked, “Do what, huh? This is all your fault, you were right.”

“Well maybe if being my girlfriend is too hard for you then you shouldn’t be it anymore.” Pepe shot back angrily. There was a long moment of silence as the words did their damage. No matter how much he wished he could’ve taken the words back and apologised instead, he couldn’t.

“Y/N, I-”

“You’re so fucking selfish, I wish, I wish that you cared more. That you actually cared about me enough to fix this. I wish that you loved me as much as I love you. . . but you don’t. I want to break up.” you told him, hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

“What?”

You took a deep breath in, “I want to break up.” you repeated. Words couldn’t explain how hurt Pepe looked as you told him that, you felt awful like your heart had been ripped out of you. But deep down you knew this had to happen, love wasn’t supposed to hurt this much. Love shouldn’t be one suffering whilst the other thrives. For once, you were going to put yourself and your feelings first no matter how much you knew it was going to hurt Pepe.

3 MONTHS LATER

liked by bestie1, bestie2, bestie 3 and 243 others

yourusername: life lately <3

tagged bestie1, bestie2 and bestie3

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bestie1: ❤️

user1: y/n’s first post without pepe i think i might die 😭

user2: sigh my favourite f2 couple

user3: i’m a child of divorce 😔

user4: ya’ll im confused what happened between y/n and pepe?

user5: i heard it was bad 😬

user6: they broke up bc of the long distance and some other stuff

user4: oh damn, i thought they were going to last

user6: didn’t we all

user7: i don’t think i’ll ever get used to seeing pepe without y/n

user8: they were the perfect couple, i mean high school sweethearts are u joking

user9: literally crying. it’s the onions its the onions

user10: goodbye i’m going to go jump off a cliff now

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3 was beginning to be an unlucky number for you, 3 letters in bad, 3 months without Pepe and somehow you still felt as shitty as you did when you broke up with him. He constantly occupied your mind, it felt like a giant chunk of your heart had been taken from you. You wished you could just move on from him, be okay and come to terms with the fact that you were no longer together. But some part of you refused to accept it.

It didn’t help that every instagram post you put up got flooded with comments, both good and bad, mostly wondering why you and Pepe had broken up. It wasn’t any help at all, all of it just a torturing reminder of what you’d lost that night.

God, you missed him. You missed the cute spanish nicknames he’d call you, you missed his touch, you missed when he would drop you off at university everyday and pick you up when the day had ended. But most of all you missed how he made you feel, feel like you mattered.

You were walking home, the spring offering nothing except bad hayfever in your case. The day was finished and another exhausting day of uni was over. You climbed the stairs up to your apartment, when you and Pepe had broken up he was the one who moved out.

You unlocked the front door and let it swing open, greeted with nothing but silence. The apartment seemed so empty, so dead now that Pepe was gone. You wish you could hate him more, blame him for everything but that wasn’t right because you knew you were just as at fault as he was.

You placed your bag down on the kitchen bench and slumped down on the couch, groaning loudly as the doorbell rang. Who on earth would be at the door? You wondered as you got up, you weren’t expecting anyone, none of your friends had made any plans.

You opened the door, half expecting it to be your friend but you were rendered silent as Pepe stood in the hallway. The air in your throat got sucked out as you stared at him, you couldn't fight the fact that you wanted to kiss him right there and then. Apologise over and over again, because the truth was that you wanted him back.

“Hi.” you finally said, as you looked up at him.

“Hi.” he breathed as if he was out of breath, did he run up the stairs?

“I ran up the stairs, that’s why I’m puffed.” he explained, you nodded slowly unsure what to do with that information.

“But I’m here to. . . to say sorry,” he admitted, “I said awful things to you that night and you were right, as usual. I didn’t see how badly I was breaking us apart, it was selfish and I should have never let you walk away. Because fuck without you I don’t know who I am. If I could take back what I said I would, but I can’t so I’m here trying to do the next best thing and apologise. I don’t expect you to forgive me so easily because I wouldn’t either but just know that if you let me I will do everything to make up for the lost time and everything I wrecked.”

You stood in silence, fighting the urge to pull him by the collar and kiss him. And well, that’s exactly what you did. Lips on his, you kissed him, making up for all the lost time you’d been without him, it wasn’t perfect but it was a start.

“You’re crazy.” you murmured against his lips as you pulled away, pulling him into a hug. As he held you it felt right, it felt like home.

“Crazy for you, baby.” he grinned, and it was true.

Fin ~

a/n: I hope you enjoyed! have an amazing day xoxo santanasaintmendes

#Spotify #formula 2 imagine #formula 1 #f1 smau #f2 smau #formula 2 #pepe marti #f2 fanfic #f2 x you #f2 x reader #f2 imagine #f2 angst #f2 fluff #f2 fic #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #xoxorequests 💖

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purrlockswatson · 1 month ago

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Phantom of the Opera (1990), you did Erik proud

Alternate title: Christine, we have beef!

(Meme inspired by this post.)

I have not a bad word for this Erik (and not just because I can feel a certain friend of mine holding a chandelier over my head). The 1990 adaptation made some big changes to the story, but it perfectly captured the childlike soul of Leroux's Erik that is often lost in translation but vital to him. (When I was explaining POTO to someone outside the situation, i. e. my mum, two things I kept using as comparisons were a child and Gollum - not because he's a chaos gremlin, I was trying to describe how he has a skewered perspective of the world that isn't evil but doesn't follow the accepted moral system. But that's for another time.)

I found myself trying very hard not to resent Christine - a first time for me. I will defend her choosing the Compte de Chagny over Erik, she doesn't owe Erik love, no matter what he did for her. The problem is that she took on a responsibility she couldn't possibly carry.

Never, ever assume to fully understand someone. Especially someone like Erik, who thinks and exists on a different pane as most people. Christine was wrong, terribly wrong, to assume she 'knew his heart.'

When faced with a person so sensitive, so particular, when being the one person trusted by a person who trusts no one, don't make huge gambles like that. She shouldn't have assumed she knew what Erik needs better than he does - he told you he is happy with where they were, then stay there with him! Instead, she pulled the 'I can fix him' and shattered him completely. I don't hate her for being unable to catch Erik when he falls, I hate her for blindly promising to catch him and failing him.

(I do realise how much of the above describes myself and my worries about how people treat me, so fair warning, I may be a bit biased.)

An opinion: in every version, Erik emotionally manipulates Christine but here, Christine is the one who is emotionally manipulative. ('Manipulative' may sound malicious, but manipulators aren't always aware of what they're doing.)

In the second part of the series, she said at least three times 'If you love me...' Now, that is one of my least favourite sentences to see and hear in the best of times, but this is somehow even worse because Erik DOES do everything because he loves her. In other versions, there is the question of obsession against love when it comes to their relationship; in that context, I would accept her saying this. But here, Erik is not possessive.

As for Monsieur Carrière, I have beef with him too. An even bigger, tougher slice of beef. He is proved to be irresponsible: not once, but twice, he got in relationships and then left this partners when they have children. First time could be a mistake; the second time, especially when kept Erik's mother in the dark about his marriage, is inexcusable. Yes, he stayed with her till the end, but then left their son in a basement. Yes, he reached out to Erik in the end, but too little, too late. If Erik is emotional and irrational, it's because Carrière never gave him the guidance he should have.

Christine and Carrière love Erik, I don't doubt it. But it's still painful to see Erik fall down through everyone and everything that should have caught him: his talent, his parents, Christine.

If you'll excuse me, I need to cry in the catacombs and draw something miserable.

I talk about several other adaptations here!

#phantom of the opera #poto #poto 1990 #erik poto #erik the phantom #christine daee #charles dance #phandom #cats #art #artists on tumblr #poto rant

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

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AITA for sending in a fandom ask no one clocked? I know this probably sounds like bait, but I feel genuinely guilty.

I had read the FAQs before submitting but I also think I perhaps overestimated the reach of the 2018 Peter Rabbit movie. I didn’t think I could come right out and say “yo I’m a rabbit btw” so I omitted perhaps the most obvious tell but I was watching it on repeat at the time and I guess I had just assumed everyone would catch on.

I also didn’t think that saying I was a rabbit would ever get the ask posted bc it goes against the guidelines, but reflecting on it I also think there’s a difference between how you treat a person and how you treat a wild animal you’re not aware has real person feelings that would impact the voting and reaction so idk.

I didn’t feel guilty when I submitted it and I thought it was funny until I saw that people were getting (what I perceived as) really distressed about it in the notes. I guess I didn’t realise how bad it sounded until I had taken the context away. I know this is probably silly and I probably inflated the reactions in my head, but I still feel really guilty about how passionate the reactions were and possibly causing anyone to feel stressed like that irl.

This has been weighing on me awhile. I didn’t find the actual post until the voting had already passed and it was too late to add info so I’ve decided to ask in here if that’s ok. In my defence, it was about a scene that I always genuinely felt was weird, and the results did justify it haha.

So, AITA?

Anon you GOTTA tell me which it is because neither I nor apparently anyone else clocked it at ALL holy shit

But yeah, this is a good illustration of why you want to clearly telegraph in the last paragraph that this is a fictional submission, especially if the subject is more obscure like that

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lemonhemlock · 5 months ago

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I think a thing that bothers me the most is how fragmented TG (the fandom) is now. After season one, many of us had issues with character writing, but it still felt like we were largely on the same page. Now, some people can accept Aegon got bad writing but not Aemond, Alicent, or Helaena. They are all “good” or “bad”characters depending on how much they hurt Aegon this season. I’m so glad he got the time to be well rounded, and that TGC delivered on all his scenes, but I think people forget Aegon has received some poor writing as well even this season. His whole outburst about Jaehaerys’s death is not about his son, but the impact on his legacy- I thought this very odd at the time, but realize it’s because they can’t have him mourn Jaehaerys for a long time either. Nobody on TG is allowed to focus on this dead child, least of all his mother! Aegon goes out drinking with his friends next episode 😭 seemingly unconcerned. But somehow only Alicent and Aemond are called out for this, when it is a clear problem that Daemon is more affected by this loss than the greens. It feels like such an uphill battle to even discuss the faction and family anymore.

This is such a good point!

I know I am so contrarian about this rn, but I have had some issues in connecting with Aegon's grief scenes over Jaehaerys this season. And it's such an opinion I DON'T want to have, bc I'm fully on the Aegon/TGC bandwagon and I do think TGC is a competent actor.

But it's something about the general clownery of the framing, how everything is gloomy and dark but at the same time no one gives that much of a shit over Jaehaerys? It's very weird to describe. I know Olivia also shows Alicent crying and swallowing sobs and trying to conceal her grief, but, if you think about it, Alicent is just Kind Of Like That in a lot of her scenes anyway. Big doe wet eyes, filled with regret and unspoken emotions etc so that her acting similarly after B&C kind of doesn't hit as much?

And, in that context, having Aegon rage over this event is rendered kind of.....hammy and, honestly, comical. I'm reminded of the scene of the small council where everyone is somber and quiet and he kind of looks like he's pretending to cry. In other moments it's fine but there are frames where I can't take it seriously and it registers in my brain like a parody.

I realise how I sound right now, like I'm not satisfied with the subdued performances, but I'm not satisfied with the expansive ones either. IDK. I have a huge problem with the framing and direction this season, I think it's a huge impediment in making me enjoy the supposedly emotional scenes.

All of this to say that I agree, Aegon has also received some bad writing this season, especially him ALSO being kind of over Jaehaerys the next episode. But people tend to overlook it, because when you draw the line, the writing for him is still so much better than what he got in S1.

And, yes, this is why I can't really join the choir in blaming Alicent and Aemond for how they act with him, because it's not a naturalistic and organic progression, it's shoehorned in with little buildup or motivation and not even drawn to its natural conclusion. For example, Aemond should have been toast the minute Aegon woke up, because Prince Regent or not, Aegon is still the King and has the power to remove Aemond if he fears him. He doesn't have to justify himself in front of anyone, just give the order to arrest his brother and name someone else as regent, then just go back to sleep.

#ask #anon #hotd critical [characterisation]#we're all in the same boat of being fucked over by the writers here

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firefly--bright · 4 months ago

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come january. (2)

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern au. part two of this fic.

summary ; to love someone is to know someone, fully, wholly, and jean fulfills this, wholly, knowingly.

warnings ; badly written smut, MDNI. ive never written smut before so its probably going to be bad. please tread carefully. literally the most vanilla sex u can ever imagine. too wordy.

a/n ; as said before ive never done this before and i really dont think writing smut is my forte with my writing style? but. i've had ideas and i just wanted to explore the idea of writing it. as practice. or wtv. so if you dont like it pls feel free to not interact at all OR leave a constructive criticism in my askbox/messages.

taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable

again, MDNI. any and all minors who interact with this post will be blocked! this is a direct part two of this post, so reading it within context would be better :D

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist! ✿

middle tile art creda to @yuka-levi on twt!

Everything happens. Universes are created, ended, made again. Strings – thick, usually unbreaking and strong, snap apart when his lips are on yours and you lose everything you ever thought you might had in him. And it belongs there, you think, because it feels right.

You pull apart, breaths heavy, hearts lighter, burrowed in each other's chests so deeply that it would take a skilled surgeon to replace them again. Your smile is still present on your face, gentle, whole, and your smile makes him smile even if his eyes are closed. There's a distance pop followed by a big bright flash of beautiful golden and you open your eyes, turning to the source. Fireworks. Another one, farther away, flashes out in all its glory, looking like the birth of a star. Jean’s head rests on your shoulder, his hands cupping your cheek, not taking his eyes away from you, watching the light dance on your features, lighting the tip of your nose and side of your cheek, kissing the corner where your ear meets your jaw because he finally can. Because he wants to, because he finds himself present there, with you and against you.

You inhale as his kisses spread further down your neck, your heart beating with the numerous fireworks in the sky only for you to realise that the new year was here and he was by your side, on your side just as he was supposed to be. You turned and his kisses trailed to the apple of your cheeks, to where your smile met your eyes.

“jean.” You said, your voice overlapping the boom of the firework, and jean hummed, his lips resting on your forehead, unmoving and you could feel his own soft smile on your skin. His hands cup your jaw, and yours lay on his cheek, guiding his eyes to meet yours again.

“happy new year.” You say, and he swallows the sound of your voice, proving your existence to be heard and seen. “happy new year.” He echoes, proving his own life, breathing it into you. “I love you.” your smile turns softer. You echo back, “I love you too, jean.” You thumb rests on his cheek, his eyes fluttering close, brows furrowing slightly, his breath on yours, and he thinks about how his name has always been yours to say, thinking briefly about changing his name so that no one but you could say it, utter himself into his being.

But he doesn’t because you’ll have him as he is, and his lips are on yours again because he wants to taste how it feels like to be. You lean back with the force of his lips, humming shortly into him, goosebumps covering your skin as his hand grazes over your thigh, keeping you in your reality, locking you into a promise, into a routine that he wouldn’t change. You loose focus, his eyelashes feel nice against yours, his hands feel warm on you, his hair feels so soft under your hands and he feels twice more real than anything ever has and ever could. He kisses you with soft force, wanting you to know that you still have choice, but knowing you’d choose him. Over and over again.

His tongue mingles with yours, no hesitance behind his teeth, nothing that could make him reluctant. Second nature. Muscle memory. You allow him just the same, a small noise escaping your throat not in disagreement but with just the opposite. His hand leaves your thigh to support you as you lean further back, unable to hold yourself up for longer. You pull back, his lips still following your every move.

“we should- we...inside?” you ask, loosing coherence, but jean catches the meaning you throw away so easily. He nods against yours, and you feel your noses bump.

climbing down is muscle memory. Second nature. Routine, whatever you want to call it, but the moonlight at hushed words that were exchanged made it become more of a shrine of itself that it really was. Like always, like all the times before this one where you were less hidden but also less seen, jean helps you down. you climb with your feelings in your throat, your love spilling everywhere you'd touch, which makes you grab his hand with even more fervor as he helps you down, slipping in the room from the ledge.

Sitting on the edge of the bed of the spare guest room, you catch your breath. Jean stands near the window, supporting himself on it after closing it, trying keeping his own breath controlled, enjoying the view. He cant stop the smile that seems to now find his home on his lips without care. He’d get your lips tattooed on the inside of his ribs if he, carve your name that was always meant to be his into his bones so in the future, after being buried next to you, they’d be in a museum for people to connect the dots themselves.

Seconds pass. They feel like hours, and he leaves his spot on the window, kneeling infront of you, placing one hand beside you and one on your knee, travelling up slowly, finding god in the way your expression shifted so easily and openly infront of him, your breath hitching, leaning down to capture his lips again. Its different this time, if only a little, because the gentle warmth had progressed into a proper temperature, you think, as you rest your hand on the junction between his neck and his shoulder, your other one drawing soft shapes into his back despite the weight of the kiss. His tongue was on yours again, stealing all the words you thought you could speak but giving them their home anyway. Gasping as he pulled away, all control is left to be picked up by the wind as he leans over you, pressing himself onto you, your back hitting the soft mattress gently, his lips touching every part of you that was exposed, kissing the lines of your collarbones, every vein and muscle that was hidden, ashamed under your skin igniting with colours that you didn’t know existed. “jean,”

He hummed on your skin again, his voice cracking. He supported his weight on his arm that held itself next to your head, his eyes closed into you, feeling your own hands everywhere on himself, warmth spreading across his body. His hand lifts your leg up, his hand moving upward, feeling the rest of your body, the parts you hadn’t shown.

“jean, wait-“ you say. He pulls apart instantly, concern clouding his features as he peers at you, his lips still close to yours. speaking takes a lot of control, something you try to seize after everything he’s done to make you forget it exists, “the door.” You mutter, your hand on his jaw. He pauses, glancing at the lock that was left open before, and nods reluctantly. He doesn’t want to let go, and you agree, and you’re sure he knows it because your hand is still in his hair as he gets up. You do, too, opting to use the time to pull the zipper of your dress down.

If this was someone else – not that you’d want it to be – you’d have preferred to be more lost in the moment, but this was jean. Your jean, where every moment spent with him was spent lost within it. So you’d take your time because you had it. He wasn’t going anywhere – this was routine. Second nature, and jean turned back around from locking the door, breathing in to calm himself down again despite knowing that his breath was going to quicken, and it did. Or maybe he just lost all of it. All his thoughts stilled, only one ringing out in his ears along with his fastening heartrate, his cheeks red.

You're beautiful. With your clothes now pulled away, leaving you with your undergarments and the dim but present light shrouding your figure, lighting your hair, a small smile playing on your face.

You're beautiful. not that you weren't before but this - closest to divinity, closest to himself. Matching your state, jean decides to join you by removing his vest and the shirt that was underneath all in one swipe, while still taking long strides towards where you sat. his lips found yours as if they had never left, resuming your positions. Your hands find themselves undoing his belt as he presses kisses – soft, beautiful, full of words he couldn’t spell out – unclasping the hook of your bra with one hand, his own hands going down your back, tracing your spine that arched slightly, covered in goosebumps. Not because of the cold but because of how warm his touch was, because you were sure no-one had come close to the amount of softness that he held towards you. his lips were the complete opposite, his kisses fleeting but solid, sloppy but definite, sure of himself, of the fact that he wanted this – you. just you. everything with you.

He pulls away again and you suppress a whine, but he doesn’t go far – just enough to remove his trousers comfortably, throwing them somewhere on the floor along with the rest of his belongings. He doesn’t need them anymore because he has you and he belongs here, with you, more than he belongs with anything else he attaches himself with. Your pupils are blown wide and he sees the admiration in them, smirking when he catches you looking at him, your eyes going over every part of him without so much as an ounce of shame, unabashedly, maybe even a little proud.

He looks like god. His chest, well built moves up and down rapidly, his forearms outlining his veins, the slant of his chest that connected to his shoulders looked the closest to belonging you had ever felt. You shuddered as your eyes went even further down, taking in the contour of his dick, the fabric pulled taught, snapping your eyes to his again. And there lay your favorite view, even after seeing almost everything he had offered with simple actions and simpler existence, his eyes were always your favorite part – lit up but gauging your reaction, glazed over with everything he wanted.

“like what you see, beautiful?” he asks, leaning forward again, hovering over you with the same smile. your knees locked against either side of his waist, and you pull him in by the back of his neck to shut him up. “need what I see.” you whispered, your lips spelling it out on his own. He lifted your thigh, giving in.

his hands are everywhere. They're all your know, you're sure your skin could remember every callus and scar on them because of it. One settles on your hip, finally, the other still taking its time roaming on you, claiming its place near your upper thigh. His thumb his feather light, shadowy, whispering against the hem of your underwear, making you gasp. There's a spark in you that threatens to grow into something more, and you don’t know where to put your own hands. One circles his neck, playing with the ends of his hair – something that makes him stutter his movements. Your other hand, however, has plans of its own, carrying itself over to the waistband of his trunks, sliding further down, grazing the outline you had studied before. He grunts next to your ear. He licks his lips, his voice husky when he whispers into your ear, “god, you’re so beautiful.”

Not giving you a chance to reply if you even had one ready, he melts you into putty, his warm lips circling your nipple. Your strings are fraying, and his hand that had been resting on your hips is on your waist now, and you feel your voice calling out to him, pleading.

The spark grows, a knot forming in your core, “want- please, jean-“

“im yours, love.” He rasps, his tongue swirling around, making you gasp. You cupped your hand where it was, his size making another round of shivers run down your spine, his whimper on your breast, your skin soaking every sound as if it would save you from further decomposition, pulling the hem of his underwear down, feeling the size of his cock against you now. The spark evolves itself into something greater and you moan, his hand pushing your underwear aside. Whatever the spark was is now long gone, increasing its size into a fire, consuming your body, making your skin feel hot. He calls out your name, strained, gentle.

Your heart beating was probably the only proof of you being in this moment; the rest of your being had been fully consumed by jean, his lips sucking your neck, feeling your pulse in his mouth, trying with all his might to not give you everything he had, even if he was sure you already had it, drawn out and in front of him. He pulled you closer to him, your thighs hooked around his waist so you could feel him, and he could feel you, ready and wanting and waiting, your whimpers reaching his ears, settling in his chest, making him move, his muscles rippling with effort, all of which you could feel under your trembling fingers, gripping his shoulders with force as he pushed himself into you, filling you completely, slowly, wholly.

Everything opened. Sounds felt a little like they were underwater, and it took you a while to accommodate him, his hips grazing yours, and he was saying something. You exhaled shakily and everything closed again, and you could hear him clearly now, his voice the only thing that could guide you.

“feels..so good, sweetheart-“ he says, his tone being something you hadn’t heard from him before. you like it, enjoy it more than the moment youre caught up against. His voice slinks against your body, deep and uncontrolled because it was with you and for you, his lips nest to the cup of your ear making sure you could feel each syllable at its peaks and lows. “tu es fait pour moi, mon amour.” He rasps. You don’t know what he means, but you can feel it with the way his hands circle your clit. It feels like he’s worshipping you – every part of you being looked at gently, just as you were supposed to, and he feels like prayer to you because his name is the only thing you know how to speak. You repeat it with your eyes fluttering closed, feeling the fire turning, meeting something new.

Your mouth only sings of him. Its muscle memory as he pushes inside you again, guiding your thigh delicately and you want to burrow yourself into him, let him sink into you like he’s doing for the rest of how much ever youre allowed to have. The flame heats you up from the inside, spreading across every part of your body once again and if you’ve felt like this before, this overtakes. You don’t know what to call it – feelings and words other than the moment feel far away and untouched.

you hardly have the time to ask him what it means, lost in the way he feels. Spark. Flame? Youre not sure what it is, hardly sure of what you are either, he’s pushing in you now, grunting softly beside your ear, and whatever that was is growing now, fast. “god, love-“ “jean,” the two of you say at the same time, his voice sending shivers down your warm spine, everything is spinning. This feeling isn’t routine, isn’t something you’ve ever felt before but you welcome it as if it was a part of your own body. He pushes in again, everything builds up and crumbles at the same time. Thoughts are broken, sentences are just strings of words and he fills you, fully. Again. Tightening, beauty that comes close to discomfort only if it weren’t with him. It feels right.

he says your name breathily, his voice strained like he’s been thinking about saying it for a longer time than this. “I’m g’nna.. oh,” he says, and his voice is the only thing that you can hold onto beside himself, your hand gripping his hair while the other one roamed in the limited space between his shoulder and toned arms, nails scratch, and scratching his skin just enough to leave light, red marks, that matched the blush on his cheeks. “can i- sh…uh,” he says, making you blink him into focus, a tear rolling down your cheek. Your heart squeezes when his face becomes clearer, his brows knit tight. “I’m sorry,” he says, barely a whisper, only the proof of one. You shake your head gently, your hand freeing itself from his hair and resting on his cheek, thumbing the tear away. “jean… it’s okay, love.” “im, I just… never felt this before?” he explains, or tries to at least, grasping onto the only meaning he could find – you. his hand clasping your thigh. His hand near your head, strands of your hair under his thumb. He breathes, ribs turning putty, heart molding itself around your hand, creating a cast. That’s where it belongs, he thinks. “I know. I haven’t either.” You confirm. Theres two of you now, worlds apart from where everyone else would be, and he looks at you, your eyes holding that sheen on them, cheeks stretched with a small smile and thinks about how unbroken the moment was. No space between your bodies, comfortable unpredictability. His bones hum with familiarity, being this close to you - sending something close to electricity but far more close to divinity into his heart. He nods, kissing the corner of your mouth. Then your jaw. Then your forehead.

“don’t hold back.” You tell him, unafraid. He nods, heart spurring.

Warmth, heat, spreading across your body and he goes a little faster, and you feel him everywhere, deeply, and your noises are only controlled by the barrier of your lips being bit by your teeth, something jean impossible notices, oulling your chin gently by his thumb. “don’t hold back on me either,” he’s so close to you.

So close. Your grip on his shoulder tightens, leaving a mark, his name leaving your mouth, freeing itself from wherever it was within you as if it was a part of you. he says your name just the same, his voice carrying out in the confines of the room, striking a chord only you can hear, only meant for you to understand. Your name has never felt like yours until he’s said it, like this, your back lifting, stomach touching his, and you feel the world collapsing, building. Flame turned into fire turned into smoke, your body shaking, sounds coming from your mouth merging with his and it stays there, unbroken, devouring, overwhelming. He’s out of you in what feeling like an instant but youre sure is slow, caring but time doesn’t make sense to you. the sheets under your legs are soaked, your muscles aching comfortably, unpredictably.

Your chest heaves, up and down, as does his, almost in sync. His strength sways as his body almost collapses onto yours, devouring, overwhelming, the scent of his rundown cologne and sweat and shampoo mixing into yours. devouring, overwhelming.

His lips are on your collarbone. You laugh with the little strength you have and jean drinks it up, a smile etching itself on his pink lips, his skin red. “we should.. do that more often.” You say. Your eyes closed, hand in his hair and he hums, nodding his head slightly, something you feel.

and this continues, becoming more than just a moment in your life, increasing itself into something that becomes your being. His knee bent, getting comfortable, and your thigh rests on his own, feeling his muscles underneath yours, skin to skin. It feels akin to holiness, but gods don’t have skin like you and jean. That’s their curse, you think, because you’d want to be human just to feel something like this again, no space between the two of you, legs entangled, warm, devouring, overwhelming, comfortable. If this was a new routine, you’d appreciate it for all the times to come.

His hand is pinned under your back and he lifts his head from your shoulder, resting It near your head, hair escaping and spilling next to yours. all of your parts meeting his. His eyes look at yours and you want to consume the look in them, something you wish was possible, but then he speaks and you think it is possible because his tone is the same as the way he looks at you – soft. Warm. Shining. “this may be the post nut clarity talking, but you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything that was right in front of me.”

Oh. Okay. He's saying what he wants to say, out of control, chest beating unexpectedly in control. A confession like this, under normal circumstances, would’ve been around in his head for about a week before actually having the bravery to speak it into existence, make it known. But with the prior fact already known – because it was you, of course you’d know – it was easy to say, and with that logic, everything became easy with you. not untethered but the exact opposite, everything was easy because it was connected and all of everything lead to you. always did. You breathe out shakily.

You kiss the crease between his brows, soothing it permanently, easing his features. You’ve never been good with words. When morning (or better yet, judging by how everything played out right now and how late it was, late afternoon) rolled around, jean was sure to have either a bouquet of flowers or an inexpensive gift with a full-fledged letter sitting on his desk, waiting for him in compensation. Either the letter or a text, you weren’t sure, the plan formulating in your head ass he breathed beside you, his breath fanning the side of your face.

you turn your face to his, opening your eyes again, looking into his. “if I told all of this to last year-me, I would’ve never believed it,”

He smirks. “cant believe you bagged the jean kirstein?” you scoff. “I hated your guts, I would’ve thrown up and asked myself what present-me was even thinking getting with that jean guy.” “oh,” he says, softly, his smirk slipping off his face comically. You laugh a little, shifting to your side to rest comfortably. His body shifts with yours, his hand now on the slight dip of your waist, thumb brushing your stomach.

“but present-me would tell her that I think… youre the most passionate and brave person I’ve ever met. And you make me laugh.” “its no that hard, y’know-“ “just take the compliment.” “yes ma’am.” He says, smiling drowsily, blinking slowly. You could capture his mouth in a kiss right now but you preferred to have it in front of your eyes instead of your lips. For now, of course. The promise of being able to see the same face with the same smile would mean you could kiss his lips and feel his mouth all over again, hundreds of times, like a beautiful predictability. Routine. He clears his throat. “thank you.” he says. You hum, gently, jean feels the vibrations of your voice against the thrum of his heart. He keeps it there.

“what… what else would you tell your past-self about… about that jean guy?” he asks, mainly to hear your voice again, under the guise of forgetting it every time you don’t speak, but really, its because he needs your voice to build the rope that he balances on. His hand reaches your cheek, feeling your words fully. You hum under his touch, thinking. “id tell her that… that jean guy is fucking annoying-“ “name one time ive annoyed you-“ “and pretentious.” “I have never once-“ “d’you remember when we went to that art gallery and you said that you 'loved how the elements juxtaposed each other'?” “…yeah.” “I thought you were just trying to sound smart.” “…I was.” You giggle at his admission. His ears tinge red, unseen because of the dark but not unknown because youre here.

“but I’d tell past-me that that same jean guy also held me when I needed it without asking. Made me laugh when I needed it without asking.” Theres a beat of silence. Jean breathes in, consuming your entirety, and youre okay with it. “that… this jean guy thought that past-me hated him because he was a dick.”

“yeah, I did,” he breathes out a laugh, continuing, “but then he – I – grew used to you. grew to like you. grew because and with you. and now present-me knows that present-you is resilient and patient and stubborn enough to stick with me.” “yeah, I should get an award for that.” “yeah, yeah, I’ll get you one.” He says, pulling you in closer with his arms, burrowing your face in his neck.

The moment would be unbroken. Even if the two of you had gotten up, reluctantly, after a while, under the bursting of fireworks, jean cleaned you up and helped you slip into your clothes again, fixing your appearance best you could. The moment remained unbroken as he held your hand, kissing your knuckles when you reached downstairs, catching sasha dancing with nicolo, connie on the table, marco trying to pry him down but not really wanting it to end, eren hyping him up. mikasa was somewhere behind him, with a small smile on her face as she glanced at you and jean’s interlocked fingers. The moment went unbroken even after the night ended, everyone hungover and piled on the floor of you and sasha’s shared living room even though the latter wasn’t even in her own home (she later texted you, extensively, about what happened with her and nicolo), and jean woke up with a one page (front and back. You tried to keep it under the set word limit in your head but couldn’t) letter and a singular flower (you couldn’t afford to splurge until after your paycheck arrived). The moment remained unbroken even ass connie groaned about his hurting head and jean made fun of him for the same fact, marco glancing between the space – or lack of it – between the two of you as jean stood with an arm around your waist (something he later revealed he was panicking about in, his own words, “I didn’t even think much of it, I just sorta, did it, y’know,” but his eyes wouldn’t look directly at yours and the tips of his ears were red, a telltale lie).

The moment remained unbroken. It always would. Details kept safe, sound, intact, even while you retold it to your closest friends after only some pestering. Even after jean mulled over it on the most important day of his life, playing with his ring, adjusting his suit.

The moment, all the words and anatomy of it, remained unbroken. Beautiful. Holy.

✿

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#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein x reader #aot #jean kirstein x you #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #jean kirschtein #smut #jean x reader smut #jean kirstein x reader smut #jean kirschtein x reader smut #marco bodt #connie springer #sasha braus #mikasa ackerman #eren yeager #armin arlert #modern au

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anakin-skywalker-always · 1 year ago

Text

I Can Feel It Calling In The Air Tonight:

Pairing: Padawan!Anakin x Vigrin!Padawan!Reader

Requested: Yes | No

(was 💕- ��Just…be gentle” 🌹- First time and 🌻- “I love you.”/“say it again” in my emoji requests)

Warnings: Smut. First time cringe? Swear words? Unprotected. P in V. As always, let me know if you think there should be something listed here.

Words: 1.9k

Author’s Notes: Anakin and reader are around 19 in this :) 18+ MDNI sorry this is probably really bad and lame and short. It’s also unedited sorry!!

The air in the Temple felt thick, and muggy, like it clung to your skin. Your little, curly baby hairs stuck to the back of your neck, the humidity causing your padawan braid to come loose. Rebraiding it was on your ever growing list of things to do. It was one of the hotter summer nights on Coruscant, but you couldn’t shake the idea that this burning was simply the anxiety coursing through you. Sticking to the safety of the cool shadows, you made your way through the Jedi temple, after hours.

You and Anakin Skywalker had been…well you didn’t exactly know the word for it. You wish you could say dating, but Jedi don’t really date. It was no secret to anyone though, that the Padawan learners, they had urges. Young adults don’t change, regardless of the context you put them in it’s only natural. In the words of Anakin’s master, the two of you had been ‘fooling around’ for a little bit now. Despite the fact it was no shock to the Masters that the Padawan’s stretched the rules regarding attachment, it was the ‘getting caught’ part that mattered, blind eyes only turned so far.

That’s how you found yourself, in your thin, cotton, standard-issue pyjamas and Jedi robe, sneaking in shadow and slinking past columns of your ancient order. You hadn’t seen Anakin in weeks, himself and Master Kenobi found themselves on missions in the outer rim more often than not. Yourself, being Master Mace Windu’s Padawan, you knew your Master simply didn’t like Anakin, and you couldn’t help but to romanticise the idea of the father figure in your life barring you from seeing the boy you may like. In short, if you and Anakin wanted to see one another, you usually had to make time.

Anakin could sense your nerves as you approached his hallway, his door. Usually he would wait for your four sharp raps against the door frame, but tonight he waited patiently behind the door, ready to pull you in. He couldn’t help it. He felt possessed by you, you consumed nearly every waking thought, and destroyed his subconscious dreams. You kept him tethered to the real world, he often felt like he could disappear into the vastness of the force any minute, but with the promise of you, Anakin’s feet remained firmly planted.

You were dragged into Anakin’s bare chest and strong arms before you even raised your fist to knock. Snaking your arms around his waist, the contact wasn’t doing much for the uncomfortable heat. As Anakin found his metal hand wrapped into your hair, kissing your hairline, dragging his flesh fingers down your spine, he realised just how much he had missed you while he was off-world.

“Hello.” You whispered into the night, mumbled by Anakin’s skin. He heard you, nonetheless.

“Hello.” Anakin always managed to sound sure of himself, you didn’t understand how he was always so even in tone. You knew other padawans called him whiny when you were younger, but you had never seen this whiny, baby side that your lover supposedly had.

War, you supposed, ages people.

You started: “I really missed you this time-” Just as Anakin managed to get out:

“Gods, I missed you, you have no idea-”

His metal hand gently grasps your chin, directing your eyes up to his own. You couldn’t help but giggle, his smirk, the little dimple, his shiny eyes, fresh scars. He was beautiful.

Despite it all, Anakin’s lips were soft, warm, inviting. The humidity has chapped yours, but in the process made them more sensitive. You could’ve sworn that you felt every nerve fire through that kiss.

Never breaking the kiss, Anakin walked you backwards, your knees hitting his bed.

For the first time in a long while, Anakin felt scared. It was in the air tonight, how badly the two of you wanted each other. And now, here you were, laid flat on his bed, looking expectantly up at him, the city lights filtering through his blinds, refracting across your face.

“Why so nervous Skywalker?” You quipped, your voice no louder than a whisper. You quirked an eyebrow, and Anakin’s flesh hand found the back of his neck, scratching nervously. Anakin could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks, branding his nervousness as tangible. “I thought you said you’ve done this before.” Anakin knew you were poking fun at him to try and aid his anxiety, making a serious thing not feel so serious.

And yes, it was true. Padmé, Naboo, guard duty. It was fun, Anakin learnt a lot. But with you it’s just different, there are other emotions in play, more attachment. And of that, he had to admit he was scared.

You could see the apprehension in Anakin’s face, it was kind of hilarious really. You were the virgin in this scenario, already slick with want for him, and an eagerness to boot. Leaning up to capture his lips in a soft, gentle, innocent kiss, you whispered: “Just…be gentle.” And with that, Anakin got to work.

With your legs hanging over his bed, Anakin knelt on the floor, face to face with your clothed core. Gingerly, his fingertips grazed over the waistband of your grey pants, your shirt sneaking further up your chest, displaying the sliver of sensitive, goosebump-riddled skin. Before going any further, Anakin looked up, his brilliant blue eyes of fire meeting your own.

“Are you sure?” This was Anakin’s final probe for consent, he had to know you felt comfortable, felt safe with him. He knew most people his age didn’t really see having sex as a big thing, it wasn’t so serious, it was normal. But not to Anakin. Sex, something so primal, so ancient, with so many intricacies and vulnerabilities, it should be treated with respect.

Anakin couldn’t live with himself if you thought he didn’t respect you.

You loved Anakin- not that you’ve ever said this aloud to him - and his carefulness when it came to you.

“Yes, Anakin.” You huffed, squirming in anticipation.

He needed no further convincing, quickly ridding you of your standard issue pants and plain panties.

Spreading your legs open with a firmness you weren’t unfamiliar with, Anakin kept a strong grip on the inner, tender skin of your thighs as he started devouring your already sopping cunt.

Anakin loved eating you out, it was divine. His tongue launched through your folds, he sucked and nibbled on your throbbing, hot core. The lewd sounds only spurring him on more. This wasn’t Anakin’s first time eating you out, but the soft mewls that sprang from your mouth felt different this time. Anakin’s cold, metal fingers found their way to your clit, you hissed from the contact.

Anakin could feel your orgasm building from the slight tremble reverberating onto his mouth. His own cock was fully hard and painfully constricted by his grey, cotton pants. He knew that his precum was probably leaving a wet patch, a stain, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Oh,” you cried, back arching as Anakin’s mouth kept working on your core. “Anakin, Anakin please-“ you begged. You didn’t know what you begged him for. His cock, to let you come, as thanks? It didn’t matter though as your first orgasm tore right through you, flashes of white hot light felt like they were being torn out of you. Anakin happily feasted on your slick, his chest heaving with yours in unison.

Pulling away from your core, the humid air set your body alight, as Anakin quickly rid himself of his pants. Spitting on his hand with some of your leftover orgasm, he pumped himself a few times, his red tip leaky and sensitive. Anakin could’ve easily cum then and there, watching you come to from your fucked out state, hair spread out on the bed like a halo, beautiful strong legs shaking slightly.

You missed his closeness, eagerly propping yourself up onto your elbows to watch Anakin stroking his huge member. You couldn’t help but flush a bright pink at the sight of it. You knew logically it had to fit, but you weren’t quite sure how. And, maybe it was egotistical of you, but you felt ravenous at the idea of the Chosen One’s dick being hard at the sight of yourself. You were the one to get Skywalker the Hero hot and bothered.

It was the greatest victory you had ever scored.

Anakin crawled himself between your outstretched legs, lining his hard member up to your slick and weepy hole. He looked at your shiny, beautiful eyes once more, just once more to confirm that you were happy, comfortable.

The softness in your round eyes, and your genuine smile was enough for him.

He thrusted his tip in gently, just enough for you to adjust. Anakin could’ve cum on the spot, again, from the rolling of your gorgeous eyes back into your pretty little head. Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, he needed to move.

“Sweetheart can I move?” Anakin asks softly, moving his mouth to the sensitive part of your neck, just under your ear. Nibbling and kissing downwards in a fiery path.

“Oh, please Anakin I need more I need you-“ You were vaguely aware of your rambling but you didn’t care, rolling your hips up to meet his, coercing him and his cock to fill you completely.

Filling you to the hilt, Anakin couldn’t help but moan into your neck. Your velveteen walls were heaven sent. Anakin’s low moaning as he pumped in and out of you at a slow, deep pace was incomprehensible. You couldn’t help but to moan yourself, stringing curses and his name along with it.

“Faster Anakin.” You begged him, your hands finding his muscular back, all sinew and tone. You scratched up and down the length of his spine.

This set Anakin alight, picking up the pace and fucking you like an animal. He could’ve sworn he felt every feathering motion, as you constricted around him.

“Ani- I’m - ah, oh - Anakin I’m going to cum.” Your confession was innocent enough, but Anakin looked away from your contorted, beautiful face and looked to where your bodies joined. He saw your precious cream for the second time that night. But this time it spilt out around the base of his cock, getting caught in his curly, dark hair.

Something snapped in Anakin then, fucking you further, harder, at an unrelenting pace through your orgasm. Until he felt his balls tightening. He knew he was close.

Grunting, he asked: “I’m gonna cum baby, where do you want it Sweetheart?”

The simple question bought tears of pleasure to your eyes, your back arching, one of your hands wrapped around Anakin’s padawan braid, pulling his ear to your mouth.

“Inside, oh please cum inside me Ani.”

That was all Anakin needed to release. Thick ropes of hot come shot through you, as he left his cock inside, slowly fucking his cum into you.

With his cock still inside, Anakin lent over you, face to face. The two of you focusing on each others force signature, calming your erratic breathing.

Maybe it was the thrill of the night, but you felt possessed by a happier version of your normal self.

“I love you.” The admission was so quiet, Anakin wasn’t sure he even heard you. To be fair, you didn’t even know if you spoke it.

“Say it again.” Anakin begged, stroking your stuck hair away from your sweaty face.

“I love you Anakin Skywalker.”

“And I love you.”

#star wars #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin smut #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker fluff #star wars x reader

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