#to be clear: we were already friends on facebook. i was NOT stalking him i just wanted to know what he'd been up to since high school | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherrybracelets · 4 years ago

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I’ll Take You On

bucky barnes x f. reader

18+ / drinking mentions, heavy smut (unprotected s*x, oral s*x (m receiving) )

inspired by: ill take you on by brockhampton

For your whole childhood, as long as you could remember, you wanted to be a veterinarian. You had loved animals, and couldn’t imagine a better way to spend your days than caring for them. But, as you grew up and the harsh realities of adulthood and capitalism dawned upon you, your dream was becoming less likely.

Vet school was way over you and your mom’s budget. It was just the two of you, and she wasn’t exactly bringing in buckets of cash at her teaching job. So, you had to get a bit more realistic.

After graduation college with a business degree, you set forth into the world hoping for a lifetime of amazing opportunities. But, a job didn’t come as easy as you’d hoped, and you were getting desperate. So desperate, in fact, that you called your estranged father begging for a job.

Your father left your mom when you were nine. You didn’t care much, as he wasn’t around a lot anyways. He was some big shot lawyer in Miami, and he was always traveling for work. It was honestly easier on you and your mom once he left. He didn’t make much an effort to connect with you after that, only calling every few months and sending wads of cash on Holidays, hoping to make up for his absence.

So, as you pushed aside your pride to call and ask for his help, it was really the least he could do. And lucky for you, his firm’s office manager had just quit. It didn’t sound like an incredibly difficult job and the pay was beyond what you wanted. Your father was most likely overcompensating with the salary. But he could afford it.

He also promised you a place to live, rent free. He owned multiple properties around the city, most of which he never used. It was kind of the perfect situation. A little suspiciously perfect.

But there were no other options. You needed a job and he desperately needed to feel like he wasn’t the worst father in the world. It was a win-win for both of you.

And obviously, Miami wasn’t the worst place you could be. You didn’t know anyone besides your father, but you didn’t care. The idea of relaxing on a beach alone soothed you way more than a group of screaming drunk girls.

After a week of settling into your apartment and the city, it was finally time to start your new job. You had met up with your father multiple times already, getting prepared for the job and visiting a few of his favorite spots around the city. He was actually really kind, but it was slightly uncomfortable talking to him.

You walked into his office on your first day, shaking in nerves as you prepared to meet your new coworkers. Would they treat you kindly, or did they catch up on the obvious nepotism that was lingering through this entire situation?

But your fears were quickly buried over as his staff welcomed you with open arms, talking highly of you and about how “proud” your father was to have you working here. You rolled your eyes at his obvious attempt to show a warmer side to his staff, but you let it slide. You had a job and place to live because of him, so it was the least you could do.

You spent the morning learning the phone and computer system, battling intrusive questions from everyone in the office and trying to learn how to work the damn coffee machine. But all in all, it wasn’t a bad job.

You never really knew what kind of law your father practiced, and maybe that was something you should’ve asked before, so you were a little less shocked. His clients were mega rich and famous. And your father was just mega rich. It kind of pissed you off, seeing how well he lived and how you and your mom never saw a penny of it. Part of you wanted to scream at him, break all the expensive glasses in his office and storm out. But what was the point? Caring about him was more energy than it was worth.

Your father met with his clients throughout the day, and part of your job was welcoming them to the office, getting them something to drink, and telling your father when they arrive. And today, at 2:12 PM, twelve minutes late for his appointment, he walked in.

“James Barnes. I’m here to see Henry,” he commanded, not bothering to look up from his cell phone and pay you an ounce of attention.

“Of course. Can I get you anything to drink?” You asked kindly, trying to keep your voice from quivering. He stood towering over you, his large frame blocking the light above, casting a shadow over your desk. He was one of the most beautiful and intimidating people you’d ever seen. You felt like you were going to choke if he looked directly at you.

But he didn’t. He walked cooly over to the sofa in the waiting area and sat down, mumbling “Scotch…”.

You stood up and walked away quickly, desperately trying to catch your breath. You slipped quietly into your father's office, smiling as you closed the door behind you.

“James Barnes is here. And he mentioned something about scotch, which I’m not sure if I’m authorized to give…”

Your father chuckled and stood up, walking over to a small bar cart in his office and pouring two drinks.

“Everyone calls him Bucky. He’s a good friend. Come on, i’ll introduce you.”

You followed behind your father in a daze, not ready to face him, not ready for his eyes to meet yours. Your skin felt hot and the room was spinning as your head, his loud voice greeting your father in excitement.

“Bucky! It’s been too long!” Your father yelled, handing him a drink and smiling sheepishly.

“Yeah, I had to be in New York a bit longer than I thought,” he trailed off, taking a sip of his drink. You were hiding behind your father, hoping he would forget about you and you could sneak away without a word. But of course you wouldn’t get away that easily.

“Bucky, I have to introduce you to my daughter. Today is her first day working here! (Y/N), come introduce yourself,” he instructed, turning towards you and ushering you in closer to Bucky.

“(Y/N)...” he whispered, the sound of your name in his mouth making your whole body light up. You had never heard it sound so beautiful before. He reached his hand out towards you, and you grabbed it lightly. His hands were soft and cold, shocking your skin as he touched you. As you shook hands, he leaned towards you, the smell of mint and tobacco pouring from his skin.

“Why don’t we head to your office, Henry,” he frowned, dropping your hand and turning towards your father. You brought your hand back to your side, confused and dizzy as you found your seat.

“Can… can I get you anything, Henry?” You stuttered, realizing awkwardly that this was the first time you’d addressed him, and you didn’t say dad. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of you, and you cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Sorry, thought that would be more professional. Totally awkward, right?” You laughed, trying to ease the tension. You didn’t think your father would care if you called him Henry, but maybe he wanted you to play into the sweet daughter character at work.

“No, sweetheart, this is actually a private meeting. I don’t want any interruptions, unless someone’s dead. Okay?” He said in a serious tone, pushing aside any awkwardness. He hadn’t said this with any other clients he’s seen today, so it gave you an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach.

You turned towards Bucky, looking for some sign of a joke with him. But his face was carved of stone, his eyes locked on your father as if he expected Henry’s devout secrecy for any conversation they had.

The two walked quietly into his office and shut the door, leaving the image of him to only exist in your mind. You were curious who exactly this beautiful mystery was, so you did what you always did. Googled him.

You searched for a while, under both of the names he went by. But nothing. You couldn’t find him anywhere. Nothing on Facebook, Linkedin was empty, Twitter and Instagram were farfetched. It was like he didn’t exist. You even unblocked your father on facebook to stalk his friends and see if he existed there, but nothing. He was a ghost.

You got frustrated after a while, sitting back angrily in your chair, realizing you had three voicemails. Yikes, you were not very good at this job.

You finished all your work quickly, hoping it would distract you from him.

They spent the next two hours locked away in your fathers office, leaving you to wilt away in boredom. It only took about 30 minutes to catch up on calls and emails, and then all you could do was scroll aimlessly on your phone hoping someone would bother you.

But everyone seemed very quiet here. Beyond the initial excitement of meeting you in the morning, everyone stayed at their desks all day, focused intently on their own work. It was one of the quietest offices you’d ever been in. Maybe they were just trying to show off on your first day, or trying not to bother you… but it was odd.

At 4:15, your father loudly exited his office, Bucky following behind. He was smiling, something you hadn’t seen before. It was almost god-like, his perfect smile, radiating warmth and happiness. You wanted to be close to him again, missing the sweet smell of his lips…

“(Y/N), I have a request…” your father interrupted your daydreaming, making you jump as you stood up to help him.

“What’s up?” You asked casually, refusing to take your eyes off Bucky.

“Bucky and I are grabbing dinner tonight, and we’d love for you to join us,” he said quickly, Bucky finally turning towards you and meeting your glance.

“You… want me to come?” You asked quietly, Bucky still staring at you. He smirked slightly as you spoke, but refused to break your gaze.

“Well, Bucky would really love to get to know my daughter. You know how… proud I am of you. The light of my life!” He said, smiling intensely at you. You finally looked away from Bucky and towards your father as he spoke.

It was disgusting, the way your father was obviously using a fake relationship with you to get in good with his clients and employees. But you would’ve done anything to see Bucky again. So you agreed reluctantly, wondering why a man like Bucky would care about his lawyer's daughter…

“We’re going to a nice place so… dress up,” your father instructed, eyeing your clothes. You had noticed you were the least dressed up at the office.

“Um… I don’t really have a nice dress…” you whispered quietly, wondering how “nice” you needed to dress…

Your father pulled out his wallet, handing you a thick black AmEx card.

“I’ll have my driver take you downtown to some shops. Get whatever you want,” he instructed, pushing the card in your hand.

You didn’t refuse, why would you? Free shopping spree and dinner with some hot mystery man sounded like your perfect day.

You spent the next few hours in and out of shops, spending more money than your father most likely anticipated. But you needed a new wardrobe anyways, most of your old clothes were too warm to wear here.

You picked out a gorgeous light blue silk dress and some strappy white heels to match. You were maybe a little ‘under’ dressed for dinner with your father, but all you could focus on was Bucky. You felt high whenever he crossed your mind, your body unable to focus on anything except the feel of his cool skin touching yours.

By the time you were done shopping, it was almost time to meet them at dinner. The driver promised to bring the rest of your bags home and drop you right off at the restaurant. It was all the way across town, and you’d most likely still be late even if you left now. So you hopped in the car quickly, your new outfit looking perfect.

The drive to the restaurant took just as long as the driver said it would- maybe even longer. You were getting impatient as the time went by, wondering if he was thinking about you the way you were thinking of him.

It was unlikely. You still weren’t sure who exactly he was, but you knew he didn’t spend his time with ordinary girls.

But why did he want you to come to dinner? It was odd of him to take such an interest in you. None of your fathers other clients seemed to look twice in your direction. But then again, Bucky was the only one that required privacy.

As you got lost in your thoughts, your mind tumbling through expectations and excitement, your driver pulled swiftly up to the front entrance of Paterro’s.

Upon walking through the doors, you were taken aback by the overwhelming fanciness of this restaurant. Your father definitely undersold how nice it was. You felt slightly underdressed, but no one seemed to look twice at you. You were used to not turning heads, being able to walk through a crowd without notice.

That changed when you got to your table. Your father wasn’t there, most likely in the bathroom or at the bar. It was just him, looking just as beautiful as you pictured he would.

He wore a navy blue suit that hugged his skin tightly and left very little of his body up for imagination. As you walked towards him, his head lifted from the table and his eyes lingered towards your body. He gave you a soft smile, but he was obviously distracted by how much of you he was seeing.

“Your… Henry ran to grab a few cigars for later…” he mumbled, standing up awkwardly and pulling out a chair for you.

“Thank you…” you whispered, sitting shakily down in the chair as he pushed you in towards the table.

You were in between Bucky and your father’s seat, but much closer to Bucky. Your father came back less than 30 seconds later, which was ideal, since you couldn’t think of a single word to say to Bucky.

Your father greeted you kindly, a wide smile that read as ‘You better be good tonight.’ It clearly wasn’t normal for him to have guests attend his business dinners. He seemed just as put off as you did, but the two of you kept your thoughts to yourselves and made small talk.

“This is one of my favorite restaurants, (Y/N),” your father smiled, handing you a menu to you.

“I’m excited to be here. Thank you for having me,” you responded kindly.

Bucky and your father started talking about business, leaving you to your own thoughts as you scoured the menu. The prices were insane, but obviously you weren’t footing the bill. You had half a mind to order the most expensive thing on the menu, for the hell of it, but you settled on a nice glass of red wine and pasta.

You weren’t included in much of the conversation, wondering why exactly you were invited in the first place. It seemed that the two of them barely even knew you were there. You sipped at your wine angrily, wondering how you could get Bucky’s attention.

It was then when you decided to make one of the riskiest decisions of your entire life. But, high risk, high reward, right?

Bucky cracked a joke with your father, and you laughed loudly and girlishly, forcing him to draw his eyes towards you. You then gently placed your hand on his knee, dragging your fingertips on his thigh lightly as you smiled at him. For a second, you forgot your father was even there, lost in the delight of finally having your hands on Bucky.

But you quickly drew your hand back, afraid of how far you’d go if you didn’t stop. Luckily your father didn’t seem to notice, or care. But Bucky did.

In fact, he was glaring at you. His fists were clenched on the table, his breath shaky and his stared. His face started to relax and he looked away, a slight smirk on his face as he grabbed his drink and gulped it.

“I have to run and make a quick phone call,” Bucky said abruptly, not waiting for a response before leaving the table.

You turned awkwardly to your father, not sure what to say to him at this moment. Thankful for you, he clearly felt the same, and buried himself in his phone. That was the nice thing about your father, he never forced you to talk.

Bucky was back quicker than you’d expected, looking relieved as he sat down.

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, clearing his throat. “Where were we?”

The three of you started chatting again, a feat that only lasted about five minutes, before another interruption. Your father’s phone started ringing loudly, much to your embarrassment.

“One sec,” he whispered, jumping out of his chair and answering in a rush.

Your heart dropped as you realized you were alone with him for the first time. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him after you nearly groped him under the table. You felt a lump in your throat as you stared intently at your fathers empty chair.

“Do you wanna talk about what the hell you’re doing?” Bucky growled at you, making you finally turn your head and face him head on.

“I don’t know what you mean…” you whispered innocently.

“Oh, shut the hell up. I’m not gonna fall for your sweet girl act. Your father might, but I see right through it…” He snickered, taking a large sip from his third drink of the evening.

“I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you, James.” You could see him cringe at the sound of that name. You couldn’t help but to get under his skin. Something about him so angry made it hotter.

“Listen, if you wanna fuck me, just say it. I’m not here for all these little games.”

“You truly think every girl in the entire universe wants to have sex with you? Seems like somebody has a little ego problem,” you retorted, rolling your eyes and looking away.

“Oh, baby,” he laughed, touching your cheek lightly with his thumb. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t get under this table and suck my cock if you could?”

The thought of your mouth around him made you quiver, which was very evident to Bucky. He laughed coyly, before tightly gripping your chin. He brushed his thumb lightly over your lips, your body aching at his touch.

He dropped his hand quickly as your father approached the table, looking distraught.

“I’m so sorry guys... My client just called, major emergency. I’m gonna have to run… Bucky, can you make sure (Y/N) get’s home safe? I’m gonna have to take my car…”

Bucky chuckled quietly and nodded at your father, enjoying the obvious win.

“I’ll take good care of her, man.”

Your father thanked Bucky, throwing his credit card to you for dinner and running off in a hurry. You felt sick to your stomach, all the red wine dancing around in your body. You felt Bucky’s hand on your thigh, rubbing circles on your skin.

“You ready to go?” He winked, tilting his head for an answer. You could only nod, unable to think of any words to say.

Bucky tossed three one-hundred dollar bills down on the table, taking them from a large wad of cash hidden in his jacket. You felt dizzy at the sight of all the money, wondering where it could possibly be coming from.

The valet pulled Bucky’s car around, which was obviously something beautiful and fancy and nauseatingly expensive. He opened the passenger door for you, helping you up into the seat. He leaned towards you after you were sitting, pulling your face to his. He kissed you intensely, not giving you a second to think, or breathe. You melted into him, allowing his body to do whatever he wanted.

But he quickly broke away, closing the door and getting in the driver seat. He didn’t speak to you the rest of the ride, just casually glancing in your direction every few minutes. You wondered if you should tell him where you lived, or if he already knew. But you quickly realized you weren’t going home.

You pulled up to a large white house on the beach. The gates opened promptly as you arrived. They closed quickly behind you, making you finally realize the intensity of the situation. You were here now, locked inside, with a complete stranger. A very, very hot stranger.

Bucky opened the door for you, clearly picking up your awe at the size of the house.

“I’m just renting it. I don’t usually stay in one place too long…” he explained, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“What exactly do you do?” You asked, instantly regretting it as you noticed the distaste in his voice.

“You don’t need to know that, yet,” he snapped, emphasizing the word ‘yet’. What the hell did that mean?

He ushered you through the front door, offering you a glass of wine as you entered. You accepted happily, staring at his wide wine collection that was much nicer than the box sitting in your fridge.

You sat down on his couch, sinking into the soft cushions, realizing just then how tipsy you were. As he walked back towards you with your drinks, you felt a wave of excitement and spontaneity wash over you. Fuck wine, man. The worst and horniest decisions you ever made were because of wine.

Bucky set your drinks done and you didn’t waste any time. You jumped up towards him, pushing your lips onto his and dragging your hands down his body. He didn’t fight you, unbuckling his pants quickly. He began kissing your neck, pulling down the straps of your dress. You hadn’t worn a bra, giving his lips easy access to your breasts. He sucked your nipples lightly, grazing his teeth.

You pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a perfectly sculpted body that at this point, you had expected. You brought your hand down to his dick, already hard and poking out through his boxers. You pushed him off of you as you got down to your knees, removing his boxers and taking his length into your mouth.

You flicked your tongue across his tip, making him shake under you. He grabbed the back of your head and pushed himself deeper into you, hitting the back of your throat. He moved in and out of your mouth, his hand holding your hair out of the way.

Finally he pulled out of your mouth, beckoning you to stand up. You did as you were told, getting off your knees and following him to the catch. He sat down and dragged you onto his lap, feeling his cock under you. He kissed you for a while, but you never got bored. You could’ve kissed him forever.

But you felt him twitching beneath you, begging to be inside. You positioned him to your opening and slid down gently, adjusting to his size. He moaned slightly, throwing his head back as he went in.

“Don’t move for a second…” he commanded, sitting up and taking your face. He was inside of you, not moving, just holding you.

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen,” he whispered, the scotch spilling from his breath. He didn’t give you time to respond before he grabbed your hips and began to rock you on him.

You let him move you for a few minutes before you started moving yourself. You felt the overwhelming rush of pleasure take over as you got close to cumming, speeding up your motions.

“Shit…” you squealed, riding out your high as he kissed your neck.

“Keep going… I wanna cum inside you…” He whispered into your ear, his lips tickling your jaw.

You kept grinding your hips, moving faster as he got closer. He gripped onto your hips, digging his nails into your skin as you felt him twitch. You felt him fill you up with warmth, claiming you as his in that moment. The ultimate trophy of male dominance.

You felt sick to your stomach after you got off, feeling him drip down your thighs as you rolled to the other side of the couch. The fun of the wine had worn off into an annoying headache, and you were dreadfully thirsty.

For some reason, you wondered if you had dreamed the whole thing, before you looked over and saw a naked Bucky, staring blissfully at you.

“Can I get you anything?” He asked, kindly.

“Water.”

He smiled graciously, standing up and putting his boxers on. He walked down a hallway, presumably to the kitchen, and your fight or flight kicked in. You quickly grabbed your shoes and bag, bolting out the front door, unable to face him.

You were greeted by the fresh air, happy to be back in the realm of normalcy. And then you remembered. The gate.

“Fuck…” you exclaimed, dropping your shoes on the pavement.

“I’ll take you home.” You heard, seeing an uncomfortable Bucky standing in the doorway.

You got back in his car, staying uncomfortably silent as he started the engine and opened the gate.

“Do you regret it?” He asked. His voice snapped through the quiet like a whip. It made you jump.

“No. I don’t.” You answered. It was the truth.

“Good. We’ll talk soon, then.”

He dropped you off without another word, and you realized you never actually gave him your address.

Who the hell was James Barnes?

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #tfatws #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes

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sandybeachesanddeadteenagers · 3 years ago

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Speaking of working at that call center, I also encountered two creeper-ass men on two different occasions, one of which lasted like, a month? A month and a half? I don’t exactly remember since I repressed a lot of it because of how borderline stalker one of them became.

The first one happened when I first began working and it was a crusty wannabe rapper who spent most of his money on weed and dirt. Why dirt you may ask? It was because there were some gold flakes in said dirt and he was convinced he’d get rich selling all of the gold he found. He was just plain creepy, especially when he would refer to me in a high sing-song voice as if he was calling a child or a dog. He would buy me sodas, even after I said that sodas mess up my digestive system and just wouldn’t leave me alone. It literally took them moving him across the room for him to take the hint.

Though, thankfully, unlike the second one, he limited his interactions to maybe like 20 minutes out of our eight hour work day. While it was annoying and he was creepy, that paled in comparison to the second one.

After a few months, another guy crushed hard for me, because apparently I looked like someone he used to know. I, awkwardly, laughed it off, because I’ve been mistaken for someone else before. However, he started interacting with me way more, often talking to me between almost every call I had.

He once made a joke about dating me and although I laughed, I did say no because, at the time I wasn’t looking for a relationship. Just like the TIM in my last post, he found my Facebook and sent me a request. You’d think I would have learned from the last one, but I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. Welp, he took advantage of that and invited me out for a ‘friendly’ trip to the mall. He drew me in by buying me an eye shadow palette I was interested in, bought my food, and then after I went to stores I normally do we walked around the mall. He, then, took this opportunity to ask me out. I said no, very clearly.

I shit you not, he looked DUMBFOUNDED that I rejected him. I told him my reasons, but he still was like ‘Are you sure?’ as if I didn’t know what I wanted. I had to re-affirm my already clear statement. HE EVEN FOLLOWED ME TO MY CAR ASKING IF THERE WAS A CHANCE. This wouldn’t be the first time he followed me to my car. When we left work, which was often late at night, thus almost pitch black outside and he STALKED me to my car to talk to me. It was especially terrifying when it got cold because I wouldn’t be able to leave right away as I’d have to wait for my car to warm up and my windshield to de-frost.

He tried to buy my yes by giving me gifts as though material objects would make me change my mind. It got bad enough to where I had to speak to my supervisor, who mind you, was male. He said that they’d see if they could do anything, but, of course, nothing ever came of it. Eventually I asked my female coworker for advice because she was also friends with him. She explained to me that he had Aspergers’ and that he couldn’t understand. Although I understood that Aspergers’ can make social interaction difficult, I highly doubted that someone with this disorder could possibly misunderstand what someone blatantly saying no meant. He messaged me almost nonstop until I went off on him, literally asking him why I would want to date someone who clearly didn’t respect my boundaries.

THIS MAN HAD THE AUDACITY TO RESPOND AS IF LIFE WAS A GAME. AS IF I WASN’T A WHOLE ASS PERSON INSTEAD OF A GIRL IN A GAME. I blocked him so fast. The fact that his attempts to get with me didn’t stop until he realized, after I blocked him, that I wasn’t interested kills me. Why. Why are men like this.

#radfem #radical feminism #rad fems do interact #radfem safe #radfem friendly #terf #terf safe #terfs do touch #terf friendly #male entitlement #these dudes really couldn't take no for an answer #even after I already told them no #multiple times

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justice4falum · 5 years ago

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do NOT give money to tumblr user roboticwheelchair

Hi, so you’ve probably seen this post or some of its permutations on this website lately! (The old version of this post broke because I mistakenly deleted it. Let’s try this again, shall we?)

This is a “RAFFLE” for a Nintendo Switch Lite and the poster is asking people send them $10 to earn a spot in the raffle, of which there are 52. People have already sent money in.

This post was made by user roboticwheelchair and the name which currently displays on their paypal is “Mick Garcia” - it’s very possible you’ve heard their story already from several weeks ago. User roboticwheelchair claims that they were physically assaulted for being a transgender man, and that they sustained a concussion.

The BAD news is that roboticwheelchair is a blog which has been on tumblr for a very long time, and used to belong to someone named Falum Gibson. You may have heard this name from their #justice4falum campaign ages ago. They are a notorious scammer and has been doing this since 2016. LET’S REVIEW (LONG, LONG, LONG POST AHEAD.)

Part 1: #BieberMeetFalum and Meeting Ed Sheeran

In 2016, Falum ran a Justin Bieber fan account on Twitter called @bieberfreezer (account has since been suspended). They began a campaign called #BieberMeetFalum by posting a Twitter thread about their disability, cerebral palsy, and how they had intended to meet Justin Bieber personally because his music was important to them. However, the venue he was performing at was not wheelchair accessible and Falum uses an electric wheelchair. They were trying to get the attention of him or his team in order to ensure they met. (LINK)

This was a reasonable thing to post about! Accessibility is a necessity. We know this. And they weren’t asking for money. Twitter got this the attention it needed and they were able to meet Bieber despite the trouble. (LINK)

Later on, they gunned to meet Ed Sheeran and succeeded.

Part 2: #TaylorNoticeFalum

In 2018, Falum was on Tumblr as user taylorsgetawaycarxo. At this point they still say they have cerebral palsy, but has also said they have COPD (something they later will drop.) Claiming that they are terminally ill and has 2 years left to live, they talk about how Taylor Swift is their idol and they want to meet her before they die.

This came right after they had done the same thing with Demi Lovato fans, claiming they idolised Demi and needed to meet her, so on and so forth. They ran a GoFundMe for this.

The GoFundMe is now defunct, but the URL was “falumlastwish” I believe. Here’s where the plot gets a little lost, because the sheer number of different GoFundMes, donation posts, and meet-a-celebrity campaigns that Falum was running in these couple of years is... pretty wild. There’s a post from another blog here on Tumblr about the Taylor Swift fandom’s run-in with them. (LINK)

Here’s a GoFundMe they ran from a music fan account on Instagram, where they were asking for help escaping homelessness. They raised almost 5,000 dollars out of the 10,000 they were asking. (LINK)

At some point they also ran a GoFundMe for a PTSD service dog. I’m not sure how much they were asking for this one, but they apparently made $880 off of it.

Part 3: Ellie Elizabeth

This part is a little muddled, because the tumblr blog connected to it has been deleted and it’s really difficult to find archives of the posts, but at some point in early 2019 Falum started using the blog ellie-elizabeth21 to ask for money as well. The story was that they were being sent to conversion therapy for being bisexual by their father, who had them deemed legally mentally incompetent. Further stories they posted about were potential evictions, needs for grocery money, etc.

Here’s a link to an imgur album of some of the posts this account made. Many of them achieved their goal of over $200 or more. (LINK)

“Ellie” also ran a GoFundMe to escape conversion therapy. Although the person running the campaign was listed as Ellie Elizabeth, the “beneficiary” listed on the campaign is Falum Gibson, proving that Ellie was another pseudonym - just a better hidden one. Here’s the link to that GoFundMe, where you can see it for yourself. (LINK)

This was Ellie Elizabeth’s PayPal account at the time, I believe? And anyway, you might note that they apparently made nearly $6,500 on this account.

Part 4: #Justice4Falum

Now in November of 2019, Falum moved away from the world of Fan Internet and decided to try out something new. They made the blog roboticwheelchair in September of 2019 and reblogged a photoset of cats to it, which for a while was the only thing on the blog besides the donation post they initially made. They’ve gone through a cycle of reblogging and deleting things there, basically clearing out the blog every couple of weeks to make a new post.

At this point they were also @falumgibson on Twitter. The account has since been locked. This is when they posted a GoFundMe describing medical abuse they were allegedly undergoing at the Ottawa Hospital. Weird side note, this GoFundMe is still running and can be donated to, though obviously I’m recommending you don’t do so. (LINK)

They made several donation posts on Tumblr about this campaign, frequently linking it or their PayPal account and asking people to donate. Sometimes it was to go directly to their legal fund for this lawsuit, other times they were asking for money for medications or other immediate costs.

Side note, they had claimed to be in the hospital since August of 2019 due to suicidal ideation and claimed they had been psych warded. From what I can tell, the Ottawa Hospital General Campus they claimed to be hospitalised at does not actually have a psychiatric ward. It has a mental health team, but they appear to do outpatient work. It’s not really clear what they were in the hospital for at this point.

#Justice4Falum was originally about fundraising for a place to live because apparently they were in danger of being forced to leave the hospital due to homelessness. Later on they turned it into a legal fund to sue the hospital for mistreatment.

Part 5: Further Fundraising, Coming Out As Trans

While Falum was in the hospital, they started identifying as nonbinary. I’m not in any position to speculate about whether or not Falum is transgender, because that’s honestly not the point. Either way, they have started using their trans identity in much the way they use their disabilities - as a way to garner sympathy and trust, and to scam people out of money.

On their Twitter at this point, they did seem to have kind of a bizarre interpretation of how transition worked and appeared to be under the impression that the first thing trans men do is get top surgery? (LINK)

Shortly after this, still during the November that #Justice4Falum ran during, they began asking for donations to a different PayPal account than their normal one, because their stepdad was dying of cancer. There was a GoFundMe for this as well, but it appeared to feature their parents and was possibly not created by Falum.

No date on this tweet unfortunately, but right after that, they made a post about how they had been outed to their transphobic father and needed to escape living with him.

At this point, Falum has added several diagnoses to those they claim to have. In addition to cerebral palsy, they now claim to have multiple sclerosis and several mental illnesses. No more COPD, though! I’m very impressed that they recovered from a terminal illness!

Now that they’re out of the closet, in early December they begin making donation posts on Tumblr again and have now made a Patreon. (LINK: POST) (LINK: PATREON) Soon after this, they apparently left their home and became homeless, and started posting about this on Twitter and linking their PayPal.

In late December they posted on Twitter about having attempted suicide by taking 75 extra strength Tylenol. Warning for a photograph of their IV in this link. (LINK)

Not very long after, Falum returned to their narrative of being terminally ill by posting about how their multiple sclerosis (something they have only claimed since 2019, I believe) causes them over 20 seizures a day and will eventually kill them. (LINK)

Then they locked their Twitter account and decided to try something new.

Part 6: Connor Kay, “anontransman”

Enter Connor Kay. At this point Falum makes a new Twitter account called @ConnorIsTrans which eventually morphs into @anontransman. They initially link this account to their old main account, saying that they’ve switched in order to be openly trans on their new account because their transphobic father is stalking them. (LINK)

They continue asking for donations on Twitter, now with a Ko-Fi account called Connor Rocks.

They also post a story about an ex-friend of theirs spitting on them for being trans, apparently, and say they’re calling the police on her, which really doesn’t seem like something that’d be safe for a disabled trans person to do but whatever. (LINK)

On their blog at roboticwheelchair, they post stories about how they are being assaulted and mocked for being transgender. I should note that on Twitter they’ve said they are not out IRL and have not taken steps to transition.

Not only does this particular story sound kind of like the “down with cis bus” post, it’s also somewhat suspect that they allege they were called a tr*nny as an AFAB trans person, given who is generally targeted by that word. But. Moving on.

When the COVID-19 pandemic came around, Connor created a Facebook group for disability support. This was run by the Facebook account Connor Kay, which has since been deleted. It was the same account that they used to have and they’d not changed anything except for the name; prior posts showed it was Falum Gibson’s account.

It turns out they deleted this Facebook account because someone on Facebook posted about their years-long history of scamming people online. Here’s a link to an imgur album of some of the Facebook callout and the images the OP posted. (LINK)

So Falum, or Connor, decides to start anew with an all new PayPal, Ko-Fi, Patreon and Twitter account. At this point they begin to break away from linking these accounts to the name Falum Gibson and their past donation posts, although they are still using the same Tumblr blog. They change their Twitter handle to @anontransman and remove links to Falum. (TWITTER SCREENCAP) (KO-FI SCREENCAP) (PATREON SCREENCAP)

Then they tweet about how they have been diagnosed with cancer. (LINK) Then they begin asking for $100k to go to the US for treatment. (LINK)

Soon after, this Tweet has been completely deleted and they have instead started asking for money for top surgery. (LINK) I believe this is in reverse chronological order, but here are a week’s worth of tweets from them - all deleted at random times in order to make room for the others - asking for money for various reasons. Yes, this was all literally within the same week. (LINK)

Note the very last image of that album contains a reference to an “Amazon Raffle” - they were basically telling people that donations would win them a spot in a raffle for an Amazon gift card or something? It seems they moved on from the @anontransman account before the raffle could come to fruition, or possibly that they just deleted all references to it. Not sure.

In April of 2020, roboticwheelchair posted a specific donation post about being attacked for being transgender and sustaining a concussion. They said they did not see a doctor after the assault because they didn’t think it was important, so their concussion went untreated and because of it they were unable to get groceries. The donation post linked to Connor Kay’s PayPal account. It was deleted and reposted several different times, with basically the same text.

Part 7: Mick Garcia

This is a more recent post with the exact same story, now about their multiple sclerosis medication. The only difference is now that the PayPal link sends you to the PayPal of Mick Garcia. Mick Garcia has a different PayPal username than Falum, Ellie, and Connor did.

On April 12th, the @anontransman account deactivated after Falum, or Ellie, or Connor, or Mick decided to leave Twitter. Then yesterday on April 19th, it reactivated and they tweeted once again.

However, around this same time, another Twitter account under the name Mick Garcia with an icon @anontransman used to use and a very similar tone/style cropped up.

The Mick Garcia account has not tweeted yet, as it appears that they may be staying with @anontransman for their current purposes, but it appears that for some reason or another they’ve decided to start going by Mick Garcia now.

I guess it’s probably relevant to note that while I suppose there are probably some white people out there with the last name Garcia, Falum is really seriously white and it’s suspect they would pick out Garcia as a pseudonym, whether they list “white” in their Twitter bio or not.

More from the current state of the roboticwheelchair blog includes many, many posts where they’re either reposting their own petitions or basically grabbing for as many followers as possible. You can probably guess why. (LINK)

As of April 20th, 2020, there are 2 donation posts still standing on their blog. Here are both of them. (LINK)

Finally, The Switch Raffle

Literally today, April 20th, roboticwheelchair posted something that is allegedly a raffle. They claim to be giving away a Nintendo Switch Lite to a lucky winner. There are 52 slots in the raffle; they are asking that people send them $10 over PayPal in order to enter. They’re also claiming this is to further fundraise for their medication.

They are claiming their doctor has put them on an MS medication that costs $450 every two weeks. (Note that if they’re trying to make money for that right now and also going to buy a Switch for the winner, than they’d only have about half of that at the end? The Switch Lite is about $260 in Canada and their total earnings from a full raffle would be $520.)

You should not give money to them for this raffle, or for any reason. The reason I’m compiling all of this is because after months of seeing them pull this scam over and over again, they’re now promising people an actual product that given their history, I would say they are highly unlikely to deliver.

Given their past, it is most likely they will delete this raffle once they have the money they want, and refuse to allude to it ever again. Or maybe they’ll just disappear! Or hell, maybe they’ll have some kind of nebulous problem ordering the Switch when someone wins, and that’ll be that.

But it’s clear based on this history, I hope, that Falum or Ellie or Connor or Mick has a long history of taking lots and lots of money from strangers online. Like, a lot of money. My estimate is that they’ve made over $15k on this, and that’s exclusively based off of the visible numbers on their GoFundMes and Ko-Fi accounts.

Please do not give this person your money. They are not trustworthy. There are other people who need it - like you, or maybe like, someone you personally know and not some complete stranger who keeps telling people they’re terminally ill so they can meet a cool musician.

Disclaimer

I’ve compiled all of this information to the best of my ability, but I am just one person and it took a lot of digging due to the deleted accounts involved.

Falum is actually disabled; I believe they do have cerebral palsy and may have other disabilities. I do not know if they really have MS, but it’s hard to trust them because they previously lied about having terminal COPD.

I have no idea if Falum is really transgender or not. They have apparently taken no concrete steps to transition, which I know means very little. That being said, if they are transgender, they are leveraging their identity in dangerous ways against other people for money and sympathy. Their stories about being assaulted by strangers for being transgender are highly suspect, given their lack of transition and the fact that the scenarios they describe are highly cliche.

Finally, I’m not trying to harass Falum or threaten them in any way. I don’t know them. If they’re interested in talking candidly about what they have been doing all these years and why, that’s fine. I would honestly love to understand, but at this point it seems like the only thing they can do is apologise for their dishonesty and stop doing this.

Reblog this post if you want! The point is to get the word out there, because this person has been a pervasive presence on this website for some time and has not yet been called out.

#tumblr scam #signal boost #donations #falum gibson #roboticwheelchair #anontransman #connor kay #mick garcia #ellie elizabeth

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hermannsthumb · 4 years ago

Note

Could you do #40 cancelled holiday party? Thank you!

40. i just found out that a friend of a friend of a friend isn’t hosting their annual holiday party this year, so now how am i going to have my annual run in with you?

from winter writing prompts here

happy xmas eve, if you celebrate it!

-------------------

Newt doesn’t really have many friends, and certainly not enough to warrant a flood of party invitations come December, but for the past few years he’s been able to rely pretty consistently on at least one. Back when the band was still together, his drummer had a pretty cool girlfriend who would sometimes let them tag along as the entertainment for parties around town, and her brother (who was almost as cool as her) ended up liking the way they sounded so much he invited them back to his own parties a couple times. Then he dated Newt’s guitarist, and then he broke up with Newt’s guitarist, and then he dated Newt, and then he broke up with Newt, and it sort of fell apart from there (and so did the band), but the breakup was actually pretty amicable, and he’s never failed to extend the invitation to Newt for his annual holiday bash as a courtesy. And Newt’s never failed to make an appearance. What’s there not to like, you know? It’s free booze, free food, and the chance to not feel like a total loser loner for once. Plus…well. Another reason.

But this year isn’t looking too good for Newt.

“Sick?” Newt says. “What do you mean he’s sick?”

“I mean,” Newt’s ex-drummer says, irritably, “he’s sick. Caught the flu or something. I don’t know, Jackie just wanted me to call and tell you, she didn’t give me any details.”

“Couldn’t he have called me himself?” Newt says.

“No,” Newt’s ex-drummer says, “I told you, he has the flu, he’s totally out of it, man. Party’s off this year. Hey, did you get our Christmas card?”

“What? Oh. Yeah,” Newt sighs. He tacked it up on his fridge: the two women with their arms around each other, one pink-haired, one blue-haired, holding up their cat in the middle like it was their son or something. Clever. Quirky. Newt just makes a generic Tweet mid-December wishing everyone a happy holiday season and calls it a success—less effort. “Yeah, it was cute. It’s definitely cancelled? He can’t just, I don’t know, take some Advil or something and—”

“Newt,” she says.

“Yeah, okay, fine,” Newt says. “Tell Jackie to tell him to—get well soon? Soon enough for New Year’s, maybe? Because it would be great if—”

She hangs up on him. Newt probably deserved it.

He stalks Jackie’s brother’s Facebook for a bit after the phone call to make sure he’s not just lying about the flu to get out of inviting Newt to the holiday bash he’s definitely having. It becomes clear pretty quick it’s pretty legit—he’s made exactly one post in the last few days, and it’s a selfie of him looking absolutely horrid in his bed, advising everyone to not be like him and get their flu shots. Not lying, then. Damn it. There’s not even going to be anything for Newt to crash.

“Damn it,” Newt groans, and slams his laptop shut.

In all honesty, Newt’s not pissed about missing the party itself. He’s pissed about missing the party guests. How else is he going to have his annual spat at the snack table with his mortal enemy, Dr. Bitchy, British, Badly-Dressed Gottlieb?

Mortal enemy is too strong. Rival, maybe? Though certainly not a friendly one. He’s fond of Dr. Gottlieb, really, in some insane, backwards kinda way, like he’s a specimen Newt would love nothing more than to cram under a microscope and study up close. What makes him tick? What makes him scowl like that, yell at Newt—more or less a stranger—like that, attend the same party year after year like that only to stand in the darkest corner like a vampire and avoid every single other person? The first time they met was at the party three years ago, when Dr. Gottlieb loudly accused Newt of deliberately snagging the last cucumber finger sandwich because he somehow knew Dr. Gottlieb was eyeing it up, too, and only did it to annoy him, and it’s only gone downhill from there. Or maybe uphill. He fascinates Newt.

He’s also insanely attractive to Newt. Bitchy, British, Badly-Dressed, but, my God, what a set of cheekbones, what a set of eyes, what a big ‘ole mouth that Newt can only assume would be awesome for kissing. And only a few inches of height on Newt, too; he wouldn’t even need to stretch up that far to test out his hypothesis.

Since Newt has Facebook open, he does another search for Dr. Gottlieb—Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, technically, though he’s furious whenever Newt tries to call him anything other than his full title. If Newt was normal, he’d just shoot the guy a friend request or something. A simple message. He just stalks his page instead, which makes him feel the sting of the cancelled party even more keenly: Dr. Gottlieb doesn’t post, like, any pictures of himself, but the ones he’s been tagged in by his company and someone who appears to be his brother make it very clear very fast that he kinda just got even hotter over the year. He’s started wearing his oversized glasses on a librarian chain, and his haircut—which had always been a severe sort of undercut—has grown out up top to be adorably poofy. Tragic.

He shoots his ex-drummer a text later. Can you ask Jackie to ask about that Gottlieb guy that’s there every year? Like, what’s his deal?

The reply comes later, while Newt is reheating some leftover Chinese takeout for dinner. they’re friends w gottlieb’s younger bro. mostly invite him to be nice.

“Figures,” Newt mutters.

Well, if there won’t be a party at which to have their annual run-in, Newt is simply going to have to orchestrate a run-in himself. The first step is finding out where Gottlieb works.

Newt picks a miserable day to set his plan into action. A snowstorm swept through the city a few days prior, and before the sidewalks were even finished dethawing, a sleet storm followed and turned them into eighty-percent sheets of ice. And then more snow comes. Newt slips and slides all the way to the cafe across from Gottlieb’s humble little robotics research facility, cursing himself for not having invested in proper winter boots yet. Docs are practical and cool, but they could be warmer, and Newt’s are so old the treads are basically nonexistent. He orders himself the most expensive coffee on the menu as a reward for his troubles and claims a chair near the large shop window in front, underneath a hanging fern. He would simply wait and watch for Gottlieb to walk out. The man had to walk out eventually. Lunch break, or coffee break, or even just clocking out for the day. He had to.

“Would you like to see our sandwich menu, sir?” a waitress asks Newt. “We have a new—"

“Nah, no thanks,” Newt says. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from the window. “You don’t have to call me sir, by the way. It makes me feel old. Does a Dr. Gottlieb ever come here?”

The waitress snorts involuntarily; she flushes a second later. “Sorry,” she says. “It’s just that—yes, Dr. Gottlieb comes in a lot, and he’s kind of…”

“Awful?” Newt grins.

“Particular,” the waitress says. “He has us remake his coffee if it’s not perfect enough for him. And we have to write out the whole thing, Dr. Gottlieb, on his cup, every time. He tips really well, though, so we don’t really mind.”

“Has he come in today yet?” Newt says.

She opens her mouth as if to answer the question, but then furrows her eyebrows. “Why do you want to know, anyway? Are you guys friends?”

“Not really,” Newt says. Deciding it’s not worth the effort to explain the complex homoeroticism of his dynamic with Gottlieb, and to random waitress who probably doesn’t give a shit at that, he amends “I mean, yes. Good friends. I’ll see that sandwich menu, actually.”

Newt has a nice breakfast of avocado and egg on a bagel, and pretends to do work on his laptop for a few hours, but—to his disappointment—Dr. Gottlieb doesn’t come in for a coffee. Newt doesn’t catch sight of any familiar dark-haired, scowling men walking in or out of the institute, either. Gottlieb must have off today. Maybe it’s for the best, anyway; Newt’s not totally sure what he would’ve done if he ran into the guy on the street, or how he would have even explained why he’s there to Gottlieb if he did. He was just sort of operating under the assumption he’d figure it out in the heat of the moment. He calls it quits around three in the afternoon, not wanting to walk home in the dark after sunset. “Happy holidays,” he tells the baristas gloomily, and steps out into the snow with one last cardboard cup of coffee.

He mulls it all over in his head as he avoids ice patches and passersby on the way home. Should he ask for Dr. Gottlieb’s number? Is it weird to ask your ex, or even his sister, for the number of a guy you’re sorta-interested in? Newt supposes it’s weird to invite your ex to a holiday party in the first place, but he really wasn’t lying about it being amicable. Maybe he wouldn’t care. He could always just send that fucking Facebook friend request. Or he could just wait until next year. It’s just a year.

He’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice the patch of ice directly in front of his apartment until he’s already stepping on it, and his stomach flips in a way that lets Newt knows he’s just fucked up; his worn-out boot loses traction, his arms pinwheel, his coffee goes flying, and he lands—

In someone’s arms?

Well, even that’s not totally right. He lands mostly in someone’s arms, but he hears a little oof, an exclamation of surprise, and then they both topple over and into a snowbank. The coffee lands somewhere next to Newt’s head. “Bugger,” a familiar voice groans.

Newt sits up. Dr. Gottlieb is laying on his back next to him, wrapped in a green parka and about three scarves. To Newt’s relief, he doesn’t look angry. More embarrassed than anything else. “Apologies,” he says. “You were heavier than I’d anticipated. Or perhaps I was not as strong as I anticipated.”

“I appreciate it anyway, dude,” Newt says.

He gets to his feet, locates Gottlieb’s cane from where it’s somehow landed on the other side of the sidewalk, then tugs Gottlieb to his feet as well. Gottlieb makes a face as he rights himself. “You ought to watch yourself, and be more careful,” he says. “You could break your neck next time.”

“Worried about me?” Newt says. He dusts some snow off Gottlieb’s shoulders. “What are you doing outside my apartment, dude?”

“Er,” Gottlieb says.

He goes a strange shade of pink, and clears his throat. “I fancied…a walk. In the snow. Fresh air. And I just happened to be—er—” He clears his throat again. “I happened to discover you lived here, and my walk happened to take me by. I wasn’t looking for you, if that’s what you’re implying. Or waiting for you. I have better things to do with myself.”

“Really?” Newt says. “’Cause I was looking for you.”

“Oh,” Gottlieb says.

He really is cute right now, with his red-tipped ears, his dumb coat, his dumb scarves, the snow sticking to his back and his poofy hair. Sticking to his long eyelashes. It’s the first time Newt’s ever seen the guy not, like, at least mildly annoyed at him; it’s doing something funny to his heart. “Hey, you wanna come in for a coffee or something?” he says. “Mine kinda spilled, and I could go for another.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” Gottlieb says.

Newt grins. “Come on, I know you want to. It’s cold as shit out and you’ve clearly been out here for a while. We can order a pizza or something, too.”

“Well,” Gottlieb says, and he ducks his head as he finally smiles back. It’s worth the wait, because my God, is it cute, all broad and crooked. Newt has the feeling not too many people get to witness it. “Perhaps for a bit. I was hoping to discuss your latest article with you, you know, and was very put out when I learned I wouldn’t be seeing you at the party this year.”

“Oh?” Newt says. He holds out his hand, and Gottlieb startles visibly a moment before taking it. Newt can feel how cold Gottlieb is even through his thick red mitten—he could use a little warming up. Newt can light a fire in the fireplace he rarely uses…maybe break out some wine��it’ll be nice and romantic… “Did you like it?”

“Not in the slightest,” Gottlieb says cheerily.

“Just what I was hoping,” Newt says. “After you, Doctor.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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tatertotthethot · 4 years ago

Text

Soooo I’m 95% sure this random ass creep who is obsessed with me has ran a level one background check on me, because not only is he currently stalking every single PERSONAL social media sight that I have, he even found my Stan accounts on Twitter and just casually messaged me on there as if it were nothing 🤠 that’s extremely alarming because that account is in no way coincidentally or conveniently accessible to anybody on my personal platforms or anybody I know irl🤠 my username is Taterthottie97 on twitter and I literally don’t use that user anywhere else, nor is it similiar to my personal users 🤠 my facebook, Instagram, Snapchat and tinder are all registered under 3 different emails and an old phone number he knows nothing of.. but he could easily find those being as its connected to my tinder. but my Stan account doesn’t even have an email and is registered to my new phone number that I got 3 months ago, before I even met him, and never once did I give it to him 🤠 we don’t even have mutual friends, he’s literally a random fucking guy I talked to for a little bit on Snapchat and wound up ghosting because he’s fucking weird and there’s absolutely no way he could’ve tracked that account down without doing some deep, time consuming research on me 🤠 the only logical and POSSIBLE explanation I have is that, as a cop, he knows he can run a name-based public record/social media check on me that doesn’t require consent or permission and even though they can’t release my phone number and email addresses to him, they can release every social media sight I have registered under those emails and phone numbers because that is considered public record 🤠 and I guess he figured if I won’t respond to him on any other social media sight that he’s tried contacting me on, he might as well try reaching out to my little Stan account to ask me if I’m feeling better being as I posted on my story that I had a cold and never opened his snap 🤠so IF YOU’VE FOUND THIS BLOG TOO, YOU DELUSIONAL LITTLE FUCK HEAD, NO YOU DIDNT ❤️ 🤠 YOU’RE ALREADY PUSHING IT BY VIOLATING MY PERSONAL SPACE ON SOCIAL MEDIA EVEN THOUGH IVE MADE IT CLEAR THAT I DONT FUCKING WANT YOU, AND FRANKLY I HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE WHEN IT COMES TO THAT, BUT IF YOU FUCK WITH MY STAN LIFE I STG ILL GET MY WITCH FRIENDS TO PUT A FUCKING HEX ON YOU THAT’LL MAKE YOUR LAST REMAINING TESTICLE FALL THE FUCK OFF ❤️🤠 THIS IS WHY WOMEN ARE SCARED OF MEN ❤️🤠 I MAY READ/WRITE ABOUT YANDERE LOVE INTERESTS BUT FUCK ME MAN I REALLY DIDNT MEAN TO CONJURE ONE UP❤️🤠 DID YOU ENJOY TDND THOUGH?? JUST WAIT TILL YOU SEE THEIR BLOG❤️🤠GODDAMNIT YOU PROBABLY ALREADY KNOW ABOUT THAT TOO ITS LITERALLY IN MY BIOKKJVCCVJLL

#*clears throat*#anyways #sorry you guys #if he found my twitter then he definetely knows about my tumblr too

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boughtwithaprice · 4 years ago

Photo

I Kissed His Books Goodbye

Kae Salonzo Perez- Dilla

April 30, 2021

It was in 2019 when one of my favorite Christian authors shocked the Christian world by announcing his separation from his wife. It was Joshua Harris, the famous author and pastor who wrote, "I Kissed Dating Goodbye" and "Boy Meets Girl" which sold millions of copies since their publication in the 90s and made him like a Christian celebrity. I was totally heartbroken when this news popped on my IG feed. A year before this devastating news, I came across Joshua Harris on Facebook and YouTube where I learned about his recent project at that time which is also the reasn why he resurfaced. He was on some documentary film of some sort where he reevaluated his very own books mentioned earlier. I have also watched his TED Ed segment where he apologized for the lives destroyed by his book. He said that he was too young when he wrote his famous books. I was puzzled at that time which led me to do more research a.k.a stalking. I am a good stalker, you know. Kidding aside! So, from there, I started stalking the Harris couple on their social media accounts. I will not forget feeling that something was already off from their relationship since they are both absent from each other's daily activities. I do not know if that is just normal with other people but to me, it isn’t. Also, it struck me that Shannon and the Harris daughters "appear" to be highly modern and very much "in the trend" kind of way when it comes to their clothes, music, and social media posts. Given that they are in the limelight of conservative believers, this is a diversion. I was not a diehard fan of Joshua Harris and so I do not really know what happened to him after writing his books, after getting married to the girl of his prayers, and after pastoring a mega church for 17 years. However, I suddenly recalled an information he disclosed in one of his books. It was about Shannon whose inches close to starting her music career but then converted to her newfound faith and so this dream career of hers was aborted. This, I strongly recalled when I found lots of her IG post informing the world that she is about to release her music albums -which her songs don’t have the slightest expression of her love for God. For a preacher’s wife, for a Christian woman, so to speak, her recent project gave me another major what-in-the-world-is-happening moment. These findings surprised me! That's why I'm not really taken aback when Joshua Harris announced that he and his wife, Shannon, are eventually divorcing. Perhaps something bigger is afoot since then.

I know I am very late to make a fuss about Joshua Harris and his chosen path today, but I just want to express my thoughts since I kept seeing him lately. I was instantly reminded that I followed him on IG! And now I think about unfollowing him so I would be free from another stress. So, following his separation from his wife in 2019, more of his announcements on the social media just got more terrible as time pass by. He then denounced his Christian faith and joined an LGBTQ parade publicly. What worst could happen now? He has been posting his personal criticism on “Christianity" and against people "in the faith" with the notion of man's freedom being suppressed by God's will. He makes obedience to God appear so vexing and that it’s the very thing that stifle man from enjoying earthly pleasures. He just twisted the truth about ‘love the sinner but hate the sin’. God is angry at the wicked every day and so we were all once hated by God until he shows us His grace (Psalms 7: 11). But tolerating a sinner could never equate to any form of love. Unless man sees himself as a sinner, he will never repent and seek God. Harris has numerous posts about this particular topic! As I see it, one could assume that it is his way of answering back to the spiteful comments he keeps on receiving from the Christian group. He’s making the believers look like a group of unbelievable people for hurting him with God’s truths. The truth will surely hurt him.

There is no denying of the fact that Joshua Harris is still a hot issue among Christians today. Every time Christians talk about relationships, Joshua and his books are brought into place. Before the declaration of his newfound path away from Christ, his books were said to be the "Bible" of Christian romance. Decades ago, Joshua and his books were often referred to when Christians tend to look for godly relationships to pattern theirs. I personally and seriously took note of the contents of his books since I was in a relationship when I read them back then. Just like the other Harris loyalists, I would always mention his name and the things I have learned from his books when giving advice to my friends both in and out of the church during girl talks. It's such a shame that I have to evaluate my old self and admit that I have passed onto others the words of Harris more than God's. This, I humbly ask forgiveness from the Lord. And so, fast forward to the present time, look at how events have turned now. No one knows what really happened between Joshua and Shannon, but I'm pretty sure that whatever hit their relationship is a reflection of their individual relationship with God which have finally come in fruition in time. The book of Jeremiah says in chapter 7 verse 24, But they hearkened not, nor inclined their ear, but walked in the counsels and in the imagination of their evil heart, and went backward, and not forward. Whilst spending years and years of their life in the ministry, I could not help but wonder, was God really there "in" them? Frankly, although no man is in the position, it’s hard not to question their salvation thinking about what happened to them.

Joshua Harris have said in an interview that he excommunicated himself from his church because he failed to follow the standards required by the scriptures. In his words, he sounded like he was the victim more than the traitor. To add, one of his videos on YouTube showed live reactions from the offended readers of his books. I personally think that was a clear picture answering the question of why he ended up retracting his beliefs in public. He responded to those people in oppose to what Christians should be doing when being persecuted. He wanted to please them so bad to the point where he just decided to abandon his post, leave his God or god and follow them as if that was the best decision to reach out to them. His mindset is just so disappointing. At some point, did he blame God for earning his haters? Is that why he went after people he doesn’t personally know and has no relationship with God? Was he supposed to reevaluate through the Bible or through people’s lenses? How many were Christians in that pool of readers? It was just necessary to apologize for the wrong points that resulted to misguided readers, but why leave the faith? It’s true that it takes lots of courage to face the music but I don’t see the part where leaving your faith is a new definition of bravery.

When a Christian is found to be challenged, he ought to thrive. What happened to standing fast in the faith written in 1 Corinthians 16:13? But instead, Joshua Harris allowed the enemy to overpower him. He heard the wrong side. Well, to start with, he's probably not a genuine Christian. We don't want to judge him but again, we have been warned in Ephesians 4:14 That we henceforth be no more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men, and cunning craftiness, whereby they lie in wait to deceive; A Youtuber also commented that a Christian should never find his life in the Lord burdensome. Sadly, Harris has put down his cross, got tired and stopped following the Savior. A believer's walk with Christ was never promised to go through an easy road but we will always find ourselves consistently rejoicing in His grace despite the way. Otherwise, those who are just pretending to understand the gospel will soon be revealed and will simply walk away because they were not meant to be in the fold of Christ in the first place.

Just recently, not only Harris have denounced his faith in Christ. There were others. Although this is not new anymore because there were others even before Harris’s time, but in this age of social media, issues like this have great impact in the Christian society perceived in various wavelength. And this case has left Christiandom a question-- what do we do with the learnings gained from such persons? It is fitting to know where the line should be drawn when reading Christian books. The Lord has commanded us to daily seek Him in prayer and in the scriptures. Even the prophets enquired and searched diligently (1 Peter 1: 10). Hence, to check if the materials we read carry God’s truth in them, they must be aligned to what the Bible says. God’s words should affirm the ideas being offered to us by other books whether they appear new or not. I believe that the things I learned from Joshua’s books really helped me assess my former relationship and double check if it indeed glorifies the Lord. But I do not give credit to the author because most of the concepts of the godly dating he presented were extracted from the Bible and were inspired by the people around him that were ‘in Christ’, and Lord willing, still walking with Him until now. Joshua Harris have miserably left his once professed faith and no wonder when ‘his followers’ do the same too. The Lord only revealed the impending danger of following leaders and prominent individuals with such devotion that should only belong to God. We should be vigilant and be fully aware of where and with whom do we pour our faith into. 2 Peter 3:17, KJV: "Ye therefore, beloved, seeing ye know these things before, beware lest ye also, being led away with the error of the wicked, fall from your own steadfastness."

The books written by Joshua Harris have heavily influenced his Christian readers. However, more than those pages that illuminated his beliefs before, what would really speak for himself is the life he chose to live today. I have kissed dating goodbye long time ago, not because of his books, but because God has been gracious to me and provided me a godly man to marry. I won’t recommend Joshua’s books but I will be keeping them. If people see them on my shelf one day, I know significant lessons could be drawn from them --more than courtship and dating, but particularly about a Christian’s walk with Christ.

We are in the end times and we are witnessing the falling away of man as said in 2 Thessalonians 2:3. But by God’s grace, His true children will persevere until His glorious return. The sad story of Joshua Harris just proved that our God is a perfect God who is solely worthy of receiving man’s adoration and trust. Not that He needs any of it, but it’s just crystal clear that no one else does. And that no earthly relationship should we model ours after except that of Christ and His love for the church which we could learn nowhere else but from the scriptures.

Isaiah 40:25-31

To whom then will ye liken me, or shall I be equal? saith the Holy One.

Lift up your eyes on high, and behold who hath created these things, that bringeth out their host by number: he calleth them all by names by the greatness of his might, for that he is strong in power; not one faileth.

Why sayest thou, O Jacob, and speakest, O Israel, My way is hid from the LORD, and my judgment is passed over from my God?

Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the LORD, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary? there is no searching of his understanding.

He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength.

Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall:

But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.

#joshuaharris #ikisseddatingggoodbye #joshuaharrisbooks #boymeetsgirl #kaperanggot #dating #courtship #christian #christianity #christianromance #godlydating #romance #christianlove

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syms-things-5 · 4 years ago

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter Twelve

Previous chapter HERE

Tags: (I can’t believe I have tags!! Thank you both so much) @kelbabyblue @jennmurawski13

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, strong language

CHAPTER TWELVE

Three Weeks Later

“OK, so what is the point of all this again?” Scott leaned in towards Sarah as they started arranging themselves around the coffee table. An assortment of plates and napkins were stacked high in front of them in anticipation of what was currently happening in the kitchen. Alongside sat and open bottle of wine and various pieces of plastic cutlery. Sarah was already dreading the tidying-up.

Shanna had demanded that everyone cancel their plans that Friday so they could devote the evening to testing out the various cakes and desserts she would spend a few days crafting. Sarah had been glad she had worked constantly throughout and had managed to swap a couple of late shifts so she could avoid the battleground and constant swearing emanating from their kitchen. It was almost unrecognisable to her now, a dusting of flour covered pretty much every surface and everything smelled faintly of gingerbread. There were brand new utensils appearing in the dishwasher that she had never seen before. Who knew you could ice cupcakes in so many extravagant ways?

Baking and cooking in general rarely came easy to Shanna, less so without the guidance of a proficient baker such as Lisa who had of course been banned from assisting her that week. Shan just didn’t have the patience for measuring things out so baking would require an almost complete change of personality. Even a late-night call to discuss the basic recipe for a genoise sponge cake wasn’t enough to allow help through the front door.

“It’s for a charity drive, I think? Their regional offices do it every year but I don’t remember it being this taxing.” Sarah shrugged, equally as confused. Usually for Shanna when effort was involved, it meant only one thing: there was a guy she wanted to impress. Sarah couldn’t remember her mentioning anyone in particular of late, though. Then again, they hadn’t been in the same space for too long these days and that thought made her feel sad and uncomfortable.

“Fuck, I ate lunch later today as well. Am I gonna regret this?” Scott asked, sympathising with his full stomach.

“It’s a good job I’m not on a training plan anymore.” Chris walked into the lounge bringing with him a couple of beers, handing them to Sarah and Scott before taking a seat beside her on the couch. “It’s like fuckin’ MasterChef in there.”

“I might trying drinking some more water. Maybe if I pee more it might create extra space.”

“The fuck?” questioned Chris after him as he darted out of the room one last time before Shanna was finished. “I swear sometimes I can’t believe we’re related.”

“I think he thinks the same thing.” replied Sarah, jokingly as she took a swig from her bottle. “Oh wait beer’s filling, isn’t it?”

“Dunno. Probably. So am I gonna see you at all this week or am I gonna have to stalk your Facebook page?”

“Sorry, I’ll...wait, you stalk my Facebook?!”

“No,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Only sometimes. It helps me remember what you look like.”

“Oh my god...I thought you were gonna be patient?” she asked, softening her stance so as to avoid it coming across as a dispute.

“This is me being patient, Sarah.” He protected. “You’re cute when you’re annoyed with me by the way. Always thought that.”

Sarah teasingly rolled her eyes at him. “I finish at two tomorrow. I guess I could come by after?”

It mystified him why she felt the need to ask. If he had it his way, he would give her a key and tell her he once fantasised about her sneaking into his apartment late at night and fucking him senseless.

He didn’t get the chance to verbally agree as Lisa appeared in the doorway looking slightly shell-shocked and carrying a long white tray in both hands, a tea-towel thrown over one shoulder. At first, they appeared to chocolate brownies until closer inspection showed it to be a slightly burnt sheet cake with rainbow-coloured icing and decorations. Chris gave her a look of concern not dissimilar to a face he pulls when he wants her help in getting out of something or when he tries to claim Scott is bullying him, but Lisa merely widened her eyes in response. He soon understood why as Shanna followed closely behind with two other plates piled high with cakes and treats. Noticing her struggle, Sarah got up to assist Lisa in placing the tray down on the glass table in front of her and Chris took the sly opportunity to pinch the back of her arm. As she sat back down, she caught him nod once in acceptance of her suggestion.

“Is there any chocolate in this or is it all in your hair?” Chris joshed his sister who clearly had no energy left to scold him with.

“Just...shush, OK? She’s worked very hard and it all smells rather delicious, wouldn’t you say?” asked Lisa trying to rouse some support.

“Oh absolutely!!” replied Sarah, taking the bait and nodding profusely much to Chris’ amusement. “Can we start anywhere or is there a preferred order we have to try out?”

“Which we absolutely can do with this rocky road!” Chris said as he held up a sizeable slab of dark chocolate rocky road and pretended to analyse it, comically squinting his eyes. Regrettable, Shanna hadn’t realised she was supposed to chop the macadamia nuts into smaller pieces so eating a piece of it would likely risk a chipped tooth that evening.

“Chris!” shouted Lisa.

“What?!” he objected. “It’s constructive criticism.”

Shanna simply called him a jackass and tossed a handful of napkins at his face. Chris managed to deflect them before absent-mindedly handing one to Sarah.

Recently, Sarah had thought it odd how they had managed to avoid anyone catching on with that had been happening between them. She thought it so obvious. There were little exchanges here and there that seemed so noticeable such as making her a coffee without asking first, or texting her first to inform them he was coming over instead of Shanna. On one occasion the week previous, Chris had asked her about a work issue but Shanna hadn’t clocked anything. It’s possible it had all just been heightened in Sarah’s own consciousness. Most likely it appeared to be natural, friendly behaviour and there was in fact nothing to worry about. Still, she felt the need to remain vigilant.

Truthfully, they had been together maybe...three times? And one of those was just afternoon drinking after she finished work. He hadn’t pushed her into anything more and she was grateful. He had made it pretty obvious how he was feeling though not necessarily with words per se but with affectations here and there. He had taken to texting her late at night knowing she’d be curled up and getting ready to go to sleep, and then again in the morning to wish her a good day. Sometimes, she wondered if he just generally liked talking to her about nothing in particular. He once snuck a bag of Hershey’s Kisses into the apartment when Shanna wasn’t around and hid them under her bed so she could find them later on. Even thought she cautioned him for taking the risk, she had to admit it was nice. Really nice. He would make a good boyfriend, she thought. He had a big heart and a massive capacity for affection.

She had not stayed over and the benefits of shift changes with little notice meant she could avoid the deplorable concept of lying to her best friend about where she was. For the time being at least. Frankly, Sarah thought she would have given the game away by now such was her ability to resonate blame with physical ease. She figured there would be an accidental comment here or there or perhaps she would leave her phone open on text with Shanna stumbling across it. They had agreed to be as cautious as possible, which was the most obvious decision, but the seamless nature in which their relationship had changed over just the last couple of weeks had been scarily swift and, dare she say it, even easy at times. Chris once joked they must not have been great friends to begin with which didn’t sit well within her so he quickly changed the subject. So, in acknowledgement of her anxiety, he calmed down his seductive looks reaching her across the room, refrained from tucking har out of her face no matter how much he might want to do so, and stopped playfully pinching her on parts of her body when he thought no one was looking. They weren’t looking, why would they, but regardless, it helped make her feel less antsy in his presence and that was what he wanted.

She sat watching the family interact while eating cakes and cookies and the feared rocky road which, unexpectedly, was not as much of a disaster as they had been warned. Scott even asked to take some home for Zach which Shanna took as the biggest compliment of the evening so far, that and Chris managing to keep quiet for a whole ten minutes while enjoying a ginger-flavoured cake-pop. She had followed some recipes carefully, others not so much, but on the whole, it was seriously impressive.

“These are my favourite, I think. You should absolutely make more of these.” Sarah enthused, pointing to the white chocolate and lemon cookies, or what was left of them. “I didn’t think they’d work but they really do!”

“God I’m so glad you said that. They only take minutes to bake and I could make dozens of them for the sale.” Shanna grabbed her iPad and made yet another note. She had perked up in the last hour or so having been faced with some rather reassuring feedback and set about deciding a plan for her contribution towards the sale. Whatever the reason for this sudden burst of creativity, she wasn’t strictly letting on, but it was nice to see her excited about something work-related for a change.

There were definite benefits to hanging out at Chris’ apartment. For one, it was peaceful and secluded even when they chose to sit outside on his terrace and bask in the afternoon sunshine. There was no one else to look over the trestle fencing and you’d be forgiven for forgetting he lived in the centre of a busy town. He also owned the most incredible sound system money could buy, that was built into the very fabric of the whole property. No matter where you chose to hang out, it was always felt like there was an enjoyable gentle thrum of music coming every single angle, every single corner of the place, enveloping you and calming you down in equal measure. Oftentimes, the only two places Sarah spent any meaningful time was either in her bedroom or at the hospital so a change of scenery at the very least could only be a positive thing.

His breath had been ghosting over the skin on her neck for a little while and it was making her tingle. “Can I tell you something? But you might think it’s weird...”

“Mmmm?”

“i feel like I’m a teenager again.”

Sarah opened one eye and peered up at him as he leaned on his elbow beside her. “Yeh that is weird.”

He playfully jabbed her side causing her to flinch. “I just mean that it’s like we’re at school and trying to go undetected. Like, hiding out from our friends. It’s kinda fun, right?”

She thought about it for a second, smiling back up at him and his glorious face that was managing to display a look of joy in spite of his busier facial hair. Now wasn’t the time to confess her anxieties about their situation when she had promised herself and him that she would just enjoy the moment for what it was. “Yeh, I know. It’s cute.”

“i just don’t want you feeling like you can’t unwind here. When we are here, when we do get to be alone, I think we should make the most of it.” He implored her again, hoping to hear her agree but he settled for a smile and the back of her hand reaching up to graze the side of his face. “It’s not like we’re here all the time or anything.” He brought her hand round to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss to her fingertips before lying back down beside her.

They had been lying on his sofa for nearly an hour now, in no particular rush to do anything, just enjoying the peace and quiet. It was warm and sunny outside, the first nice day they’d had in a while, and the windows were open to allow the room to stay pleasantly cool. He ran his hand over her lower tummy and played with the drawstring bow that was currently separating him from where he wanted to be. As much as he liked to make fun of her scrubs from time to time, and that was one thing that had not changed, he was starting to grow accustomed to them in a fond yet strangely sexual way. He wasn’t normally bothered by women in a uniform but there was a first time for everything. He nuzzled in against her neck and left a biting kiss on her earlobe.

“I wanna take you while you’re wearing these.” he murmured, impishly letting go of the elastic waistband so it snapped back onto her skin.

Sarah’s eyes pinged open. She couldn’t tell whether he was being serious or not. As he moved his body to rest over her, she felt his fingers deftly pull on the bow to loosen the waistband and laughed when she saw the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I cannot believe you just said that,” she giggled, wiping at one of her eyes in embarrassment while he inched her pants down off her hips and made himself comfortable again between her legs. “Are you serious?”

“Well, unless we’re gonna do it in a hospital supply closet, yes.”

“You know that doesn’t happen in real life, right? You’ve watched too much ‘Nurse Jackie’.” She moved her weight onto her shoulders, lifting her ass up to help him remove her trousers completely.

“First, it was ER, and second, why would they say it happens if it didn’t happen? They have medical consultants, right? They have people who advise on these things. It is obviously based on fact.” He smirked at her while helping himself to a smooth caress back up her legs. She couldn’t trust that he wasn’t genuinely upset at the prospect that he might not eventually get to have sex in the hospital. He was hard to read when sex was involved and small ministrations he had made with her suggested she was nowhere near as experienced or confident as he was in that department. This must be like the pillow fight fantasy men have and how it’s just easier to allow them to assume it happens on a regular basis lest the truth invoke spontaneous combustion or something.

He finally rested over her body, propping himself up by his arms either side of her head. He moved strands of hair out of her face and kissed her once and then again. His playful tone clearly belied the thoughts running through his mind and she felt him stiffen between her legs, causing her arousal to grow.

“Look, just think about it, OK? he kissed her neck and then again just above her collarbone causing a shiver to run through her body. “Just think about me-” he kissed the swell of her breast through her t-shirt “-about what we could do-” he shifted up the hem leaving her midriff exposed to the cool air before he continued to kiss his way further down “-about what I could do to you-” he grazed his fingers over her panties causing her breath to hitch “-fuck it’s be so hot-” her eyes closed in anticipation as he left wet kisses further down her stomach, his tongue caressing her skin as he moved “-and it’d feel so good-” further still “-so good, honey-” his fingernails deliberately scratched down her sides to catch up causing another shiver to twist her insides “-and it’d be so worth it-” he pulled down the sides of her panties as he went “-and we’ll call it even, yes?”

He teasingly bit her causing her to cry out and her eyes to surge open. She soon met the devil in his own as he looked back up at her coquettishly through his eyelashes, his grin disappearing as he moved down to see her open to him. He was a bad man and, in that moment, she knew he had her. He kissed her slowly, deliberately, little butterfly kisses she could barely feel but knew were there from his warm breath and the delicious sounds his lips made. Just as her hands reached out for him, his tongue entered the game gently massaging her, spreading her lips a little more to glide deeper inside her. He looked up again to find her grabbing at the armrest above her, the familiar blush covering her skin. His hands reached under her thighs, steadying them both, silently proud of his work.

He fought hard to keep himself under control at first, her involuntary reactions proving irresistible as he continued to work her over. Her hands stayed grasping at the armrest, her eyes tightly shut now, as he switched between firmer nudges and gentler, longer strokes. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t instigated this sooner, she looked so enticing above him and it was all he could do not to ravish her there and then. Just as he moved his right hand from outside her thigh, he felt her hands cover his own. Smoothing over his hair, he felt a shiver envelope his skin as her fingernails scratched over his scalp forcing his eyes to close in pleasure and his mouth to falter ever so slightly.

“Come here...” she whispered.

Their eyes reconnected and he crawled back over her to join their lips in a passionate kiss. She helped him pull his sweater over the back of his head and he tossed it onto the floor beside them, his jeans quickly joining it before he awkwardly shifted his boxers down his legs eager to pounce back onto her. She giggled before meeting his kiss again. This was all he really wanted; her hands on him, one delicately toying with his hair, maybe pulling slightly when he hits her at the right spot.

He found her shyness vanishing little by little after their first time. Well, second time, technically. He was increasingly comforted by her kisses and the way she would nervously reach for him when they were together. Her own way of letting him know, without words, that she wanted to be there.

“You OK?” he whispered, nipping at her bottom lip causing a smile to flash across her face as she looked up at him. They hadn’t yet got to the point where they felt they could safely assume what the other was thinking so he felt the need to keep asking the question of her, once for reassurance and twice because he just really wanted to hear her whimper as he teasingly rubbed himself against her.

Her breathing grew shallower and her fingers grabbed at his back when she felt him thrust faster, harder, hitting her where she wanted it, over and over again. He never missed a beat. Her hands gripped at him harder than he’d felt before and he got excited at the thought of seeing the marks she would leave on him later on. As he moved his mouth back over hers, their breaths mixing together, she shuddered and after another second or two, finally came hard around him. It didn’t take him long to follow, watching her up close could do that to a man, and they remained in this spot, him lying on top of her, for a few more minutes.

Her back arched as she guided him to her. He felt her grab his shoulders as he pushed inside and she allowed herself finally for the first time that day to block out the rest of the world, leaving only him. He just wanted her to focus solely on him. Just for now.

She wraps her arms around him again as he rested his on either side of her head, allowing him to control their movement as he slowly, confidently, slides in and out of her. She feels warm and soft and...comforting all at once. He relished the tightness, tugging a little on her earlobe when he feels her pulse around him. It was all he had thought about thst day and there would be other times they could slow things down.

Her breathing grew shallower and her fingers grabbed at his back when she felt him thrust a little faster, harder, hitting her where she wanted it, over and over again. He never missed a beat. Her hands gripped at him harder than he’d felt before and he got excited at the thought of seeing the marks she would leave on him later on. As he moved his mouth back over hers, their breaths mixing together, she shuddered and after another second or two, finally came hard around him. It didn’t take him long to follow, watching her up close could do that to a man, and they remained in this spot, him lying on top of her, for a few more minutes.

“Oh fuck...” he panted over her neck, her hair sticking to his forehead when he moved back to kiss her.

“Yeh...” she agreed, unable to muster much energy to add anything else. Her hand returned to caress the back of his head and she felt him relax into her touch until he got a little too heavy and she had to shift out from underneath him.

He took the opportunity to pull his boxers back up as she corrected her own underwear. They smiled at each other and laughed a little bit at the state they were in. He reached out to tuck some hair behind her ear before leaning in to kiss her again, retaining some of the passion from just moments ago but not wanting to push his luck.

“Where are you going?” he asked as she bent down to grab one shoe and then the other after spying it underneath his coffee table.

“Home.”

He straightened up on the sofa, eying her as she slipped on her canvas sneaker having not bothered to untie them from when she had kicked them off earlier. “Stay here for a bit. I could make us something and we can hang out. We’re allowed to do that, surely?”

“That might look a bit weird, no?”

“Why? You’ve stayed here loads of times before.”

“Only when the apartment flooded or when you’ve had a party. It’ll look strange.” She turned to look at him, a sorrowful glance telling him all he needed to know. “Sorry. It’s just I promised Shan we’d have a night in with a pizza. I think I owe her.”

“Owe her?’

“Yeh, just...some time, maybe? I’ve barely spoken to her lately and I think something is going on with a guy or possible with work.”

“She’s a big girl, Sarah, she can take care of herself.” He attempted a protest but knew he was fighting a losing battle as she reached for her hoodie off the armchair. “And you have a life, too. You’ve been working loads. You’ve got a stressful job, and...”

“...and among other things.” she pointedly suggested. “It just feels like we’re ships passing in the night at the moment. Has she said anything to you?’

“Why would she tell me about some loser she may or may not like?” He spoke in a clipper tone but regretted it as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth. He rolled back onto the couch, sighing in defeat and unable to think of a decent come-back. She leaned down to fix her shoes again and avoided his eye contact when she got up to leave. The sad puppy expression that he’d skilfully mastered over the years had failed on this occasion but he wouldn’t be discouraged from using it again.

“Soooo...I guess I’ll just see you tomorrow, then?” he called out as she began to leave.

She turned back to find him lying on his couch like Kate Winslet in ‘Titanic’, one leg dangling off the side and his stomach perfectly displaying his hard-fought-for abs. His skin looked unfairly smooth even from this distance, and she bristled at the thoughts of having been under him just minutes ago.

“Don’t forget me...” he pouted and she would have blessed him with a quick peck on the lips by way of an apology before he smiled at her. She playfully rolled her eyes at him, made a point of remembering him laid out this way, and walked out.

#chris evans #chris evans fic #fanfiction #clear the area #sarah bernette #chris evans x original female character #evans fic

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thisisridiculousdude · 4 years ago

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I would like to state that I am ONLY making this account to address this issue and I will not discuss it after this. I will not engage with the online community regarding this, and I will not post anything else on here. However, I need to set the record straight because you’ve involved me in a personal way when you do not know me. Hello! My name is Em. I’m the current partner of @strawberryswisherrpt3 - otherwise known as Joey Hart. There are accusations firing at my partner, and him attempting to defend himself. In the original message, I was spoken to as though I was somehow a victim of my partner, or that I wasn’t fully aware of what was going on so I’m sitting here to address everything that has been said. This will not continue and I will not engage with people I don’t know, and that don’t know me, my life with Joey, nor him at this point in time. To Kai:

1. I have never harassed you. You attempting to paint the image of me bothering you in any way is ridiculous. I have made 2 posts to you in the 4 years I have been involved with Joey. The first (that I will attach to this post) was in direct response to you posting shitty things about my relationship with Joey of which you knew nothing about. I have EVERY RIGHT to defend myself or to inform someone of the truth. Sure, I was a little harsh in it with my word choices but I was incredibly angry that you inserted yourself in a relationship you were not apart of.

2. I AM NOT A VICTIM OF JOEY HART. I REPEAT, I AM NOT A VICTIM OF JOEY HART. I will not EVER reach out to you so I can “confide” in you about some horrific fact of a person that simply no longer exists. He has never and would never harm me.

3. You make the statement that I will never understand and you hope I don’t have to, so let me paint a picture for you. I’m 21, I start dating someone that I went to high school with that I trust with my life. He takes care of me while I’m sick, he knows all of my medical and personal information. I move across the country with him so I wouldn’t be a burden on my family. We get married so I have health insurance, and can have the procedures I need without paying an arm and a leg for them. I change my last name on my social security card with him promising to pay for me to have my license changed over too so I can eventually go back to work. He proceeds to slowly remove all food from the house, the keys from my pockets so I can no longer leave and if I do, I won’t be able to get back in. He started to speak to my mother, my daughter’s family, and my friends behind my back. He let them all know I was losing my mind, that I wasn’t making any sense and he was doing everything he could to make me happy but it never seemed like it was enough. In reality, he backed me into a corner. He was drunk. He had the windows open so our neighbors could hear him humiliate me. He yelled in my face that I was a whore. I was his wife and he could fuck me whenever he pleased. I didn’t have to tell him yes or no. I didn’t have to consent. He owned me because I was his wife. I try my BEST to fight back. I yell, I beg him to close the window so the neighbors won’t hear. I cry and tell him I love him and i’m so sorry. Do you know what his response was, Kai? Do you want to know? His response was to rip open my dress, drag me by my hair, push me over onto our bed, rip my underwear off, shove himself into me, ripping me on his way in to where i was bloody with his hand shoving my face into the mattress so he could muffle my cries.That happened over and over again. He beat the shit out of me. He starved me. He held me hostage. If I tried to book a flight home to Texas, he’d find out. He’d cancel it because he worked at the airline. My family wouldn’t speak to me. I couldn’t get a job because my IDs didn’t match. When I finally decided I was going to leave him, he ripped the cushions out of the futon I was sleeping on so I had to sleep on raw springs. He would bring home a triple cheeseburger and 10 nuggets every single night and force feed me them but if I declined, I did not eat. He took my phone and controlled everyone I spoke to and everything I did. He used my personal information against me in an attempt to have me committed. After I finally found a way out, he ACTUALLY stalked me. He followed me home on the train and to my workplace. He called DCFS on me (the time you’re referring to that Joey told you) because I took my child and fled to a dude’s house because I was terrified for my life. I almost had my child taken away from me because of him. He kidnapped my child and took her to Denver CO without my consent or knowledge. He caused my daughter to hate me because he filled her head with lies about me. To this day, my daughter is his picture on Facebook. I know what abuse is like. I know what it’s like to question your own sanity, to be so stained by what you considered love that you don’t know if you’re ever going to be able to feel safe again. I can no longer be touched without almost throwing up. I can’t answer phone calls I don’t know and I am always living in fear that he will finally find a way to kill me. You do not have a right to tell me that I do not understand what you have endured in your life because I do. You do not know me. Do not belittle my intelligence and capability of rational thinking.

3. I’m not insecure of you and I never have been. I have never been under the impression Joey was trying to date you again because he never was. 4. The final thing I have to say to you is this: Joey has never hidden anything from me. He has never tried to justify his actions. I have always been honest with him whenever he has messed up, and he is well aware of the things he has done. He has taken accountability for the wrongdoings of his past and the people he has hurt. He told me every single thing before we started dating so I knew what his past was. He never hid it. He never tried to twist it to paint himself as a victim. He point blank said “I did this” without any attempt of swaying my opinion one way or the other. I CHOSE to acknowledge the fact that this is someone with a very stained past that goes far beyond what he has done to others, and what has also been done to him. I chose to pursue a relationship with him because I respected his honesty, and truly believed he wanted to move forward and work on being a better person. He can’t UNDO the things he has done. We all fucking know this, including him. But I’m TRULY confused on what you want him to do. What you expect of him. Like, do you want him to just disappear off the face of the earth? Because that isn’t going to happen. He’s got a life, he’s allowed to be on the internet and interacting with people that he knows or is involved with. The ONLY thing he can do is apologize, take accountability, and try to be better. That’s it. That’s all he can do. And I know he has apologized to you. I’ve heard it, and he did it again in the recent message to you. You absolutely do not have to accept his apology but you cannot say that he hasn’t attempted to take responsibility verbally to you directly. Same with Sarah. He messaged her on OkCupid to apologize well after they broke up and she essentially told him to fuck off (which is totally fine, and understandable) and he didn’t push the issue. He understood why she was angry and had every right to be. He left her alone and hasn’t once bothered her since. You know this happened because you were with him when it happened. Like literally WITH him physically and found out later and were angry. So I don’t understand. You don’t owe me an answer but i’m not stupid. I’m not naïve like you portray me to be, Kai. I’m not justifying or defending his past. I’m telling you the truth, which is that the person he is today is not the person he was then and you truly CANNOT say otherwise because you wouldn’t know. No one would know. He reached out to you again on December 22nd because he reaches out to people from his past. Like you, I never really understood this, but I don’t make his decisions for him. It was probably a mistake and I’m sure he’s realizing this now, but either way, he left you alone. He didn’t message you again and he didn’t bother you. He didn’t vague post at you or say anything offensive to you/about you. He posted a photo of me with a ferret where YOU then said something shitty and he finally asked you to stop. He told you he wasn’t going to stop posting his personal stuff out of fear of what you may say. Yes, it’s your blog and you can say whatever you want. No one is stopping you or trying to. However, you clearly know he’s looking just like you’re looking at his. His message to you was not reflective of the way he once was. That doesn’t suddenly mean he’s unchanged or not a better person from his mistakes (which for the final time, what else do you want dude). It means he got upset because he posted a photo of a ferret and you copied something shitty he said to you like 5 years ago in an email as a response to something that never required a response??? it was a photo of a ferret! Whatever. In general: As I said already, I won’t be addressing any of this again. I don’t know any of you and I’m not going to pretend to. I do know my partner though and I do know the things he has done because he has been honest. He’s told me when he was having doubts about our relationship, He’s told me virtually every single thing that he’s done or experienced. He has worked very, very, very hard to work on his toxic patterns and address his past in a way that is meaningful for his future as a person, all while understanding that the past cannot be undone and taking full accountability where it is due. He is disabled, he is schizophrenic, he is neurodivergent and he has been since he was a child. Some of the behavior you comment on is clear schizophrenia. He is NOT RESPONSIBLE for his family. He does not have contact with his family. He has not been in contact with them for nearly a year. We endured the exact same thing as all of you did from his family while we resided there which isn’t okay and I don’t blame any of you for feeling uncomfortable or unsafe there. However, he can only do so much. He can only yell at his family so much. He can only demand they stop doing something so much. It’s not feasible for someone who brings in $863 a month to simply move out and quite frankly, it’s incredibly ableist to push that narrative. His family abused him his entire life. His dad was absolutely horrific to his mom, and grandmother. He harassed Susie literally to fucking death. And to be clear: none of this excuses his actions. These are not excuses, these are facts. Someone can state that they were severely mentally ill and had undergone a lifetime of abuse and trauma that caused them to act out a certain way or have a distorted sense of reality to some degree (schizophrenia), or even harm those they cared for or were near because of those things. That does not make someone a bad person. That means they have done bad things. For the final time: he cannot undo what he did. To anyone. He cannot take it back even though he DOES wish he could. ALL HE CAN DO is try to move forward and better himself while acknowledge who he was to prevent himself from being that person again. He is not perfect, I’m not perfect. But he is different now than he has ever been. He has continued to grow over the time I have known him and whether you believe that or not is not something I can control but it’s not something I’m going to continue to let spew from people that no longer know who he is. I have chosen to remain silent until now, and I will go back to being silent of my own accord because I’m not going to engage with anyone who is insistent and honestly, hell-bent on destroying a person who has done exactly what you SAY you want done and why you SAY you’re doing this “again:” so he’s accountable. I truly do not understand the purpose of this and I truly do not appreciate you saying things about our relationship that are not true. You do not know anything about our relationship, about me as a parent, about my life at all. You’ve made derogatory comments about me in the past because I lived in the house with his family since I was laid off from my job and lost my housing. You compared babysitting your siblings to me having a child alone in a hospital room at 15 and raising her by myself. You felt the need to comment on how my child would be hurt by the fact that I left relationships which I had to do because I was being raped or glass was thrown at my head. You do not know me. You will never know me, and I don’t want to know you. You don’t know him either, as I’ve said a million times over in this entire post. This won’t change anything if you’re not willing to listen to the person who DOES know him best now. This is all I have to say. I’m done now.

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lightsburnbrite · 4 years ago

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Things We Do for Love: Part 2

(Third part to Such a Thrill and The Devil is in the Details)

As the months passed, Leon slowly started to form normalcy. His apartment resembled more of a bachelor’s pad as Karina’s personal items were removed. In an effort to get his mind off of things, it wasn’t uncommon for two or three of Leon’s friends to come and stay for weeks at a time and he genuinely appreciated the company but it didn’t replace the fact that Karina was gone. Mathea, never one to miss an opportunity, soon moved herself in and resumed her role as the doting girlfriend.

“Ha! I’ve found her.”

Leon let the basketball rebound off the floor before holding it still. Putting the net up in the living room seemed like both his best and worst idea to date. “What? Found who?”

“Karina.” Sebastian called back out. He wasn’t Leon’s official agent, but he acted in a managerial capacity in addition to being Leon’s close friend. “She’s listed on the website as the Associate Curator of European Art.”

Leon put the ball down and walked over to the sofa where Sebastian was lounging. He stopped short, trying to decide if he would feel better knowing where Karina was or if he would feel worse. “What website?”

“AGO.” Sebastian looked up from the screen at Leon. “Does Marius really not know where she is?”

Leon shook his head. “No. Their parents haven’t come out and said it but he figured they’d cut him off too if he tried to get in touch with her. What does AGO stand for?”

“Art Gallery of Ontario.” He turned his laptop towards Leon. “As in Ca-na-da, eh?”

Leon smirked at Sebastian’s over pronunciation but he couldn’t help but smile at Karina’s picture placed alongside her bio. She looked essentially the same, her hair might have been a bit longer and she had it straightened in this picture, but she looked genuinely happy. Leon knew that Karina had a “professional smile” that she used to counteract her natural inclination to frown but the smile she wore in her picture proved her to be happy and proud of this new position.

“Oh damn,”

Leon turned back to Sebastian who was on his phone now. “What now?”

“Looks like she’s got a new…” Sebastian hesitated. “Well, have a look.”

Sebastian had pulled facebook up on his phone but he didn’t know the person who’s profile it was. It was a picture of a group of six people at what looked to be an outdoor wedding reception, the bride and groom were placed in the middle with two people on either side. Karina stood to the very right, tucked neatly against the side of man who looked to be about the same age, her hand resting on his chest while his was placed low on her hip. Again, Karina smiled brightly while the man had more of a smirk and that instantly put Leon off him. He had been hoping maybe she was just the man’s plus one as a favor but then he read the caption and his heart sank.

Happy Siblings Day to these two weirdos. Loved having everyone together again at my wedding. Loved it even more that we finally got to meet baby brother’s new girlfriend who is the sweetest!

“What’s his name?” Leon looked over to Sebastian again. “Can you tell?”

Sebastian took his phone back and shrugged. “Look at the tagged names. Obviously we know Karina’s and if they are siblings then look for last names that are the same. Here we go…Cosmo is your guy. Or, I guess it’s more like her guy. Heh. What the fuck kind of name is Cosmo.”

Leon groaned but curiosity eventually got the better of him. At various points throughout the day, he was looking through multiple forms of social media belonging to a floppy haired hipster that had somehow caught Karina’s eye. He was mainly active on instagram, posting random landscapes and other seemingly artistic compositions. Leon was relieved that he didn’t see any pictures of Karina on there but when he came across a few pictures of Elsa, that was somehow worse. It had now become a serious relationship in his mind because Karina had allowed her beloved dog around this man.

Karina had effectively vanished from the face of the Earth in the 14 months since she left Leon. At first, Leon thought she had just blocked him but when she ‘liked’ one of his posts about a charity endeavor he and Joshua were working on, Leon realized she had just been silent. That initial ‘like’ broke the seal, it seemed, and just like that, she became active again. There were a few selfies and a few more pictures of Elsa but then came the pictures of Elsa and the new boyfriend. It wasn’t a blatantly obvious picture of the two of them, but he recognized the fragment of a roman numeral tattoo he had on his arm from other pictures.

While laying in bed one night, Leon was scrolling through pictures. Mathea moved closer and rested her head on his shoulder. “Who’s that?”

“Oh, um..” Leon cleared his throat and thought of how he could explain that he was essentially stalking the new love interest of his estranged wife. “Karina has a new boyfriend.”

Mathea took his phone and looked at pictures of the two of them and sneered. “He’s got a big nose. Whatever, you’re hotter.”

It made Leon feel at least a bit better to hear her say that, but there was now way Mathea could be objective. He had decided to give Karina a call and see if she would actually answer. Karina had donated a sizable amount to his charity and calling to say thank you seemed to be a good reason. To his surprise, she answered.

“Hi Leon, what’s up?”

He instantly smiled. “Hey, Maus. I, uh, wanted to say thank you for your donation. That was really generous of you.”

“Of course.” She held the phone away and coughed. “You and Joshua are doing great things, I’m happy to help.”

“Right…” He nodded even though she wouldn’t be able to see him. He wanted to say it was good to hear her voice, that he was happy she was ok and hoped she was doing well but all of a sudden, the words came before he had the chance to stop himself. “Mathea found your wedding dress the other day. I guess I could ship it to you?”

“Oh, um, honestly, I don’t want it back. You can do what you want with it.” She hesitated. “Listen, Leon, I was thinking it’s time that we finalize things. We’re kinda in limbo right now and I think we both just need to move on. I’m going to be in Munich next week, would you be able to meet with our lawyers?”

Leon let out a sigh. She was right, but it still hurt him to hear it. “Um, yeah. We can do that.”

They sat in a meeting room around a circular table and had an unsurprisingly civil conversation.

“I see that you maintained separate accounts so that makes the division of assets somewhat more straightforward.” Leon’s lawyer shuffled some papers before addressing Karina specifically. “Will you be petitioning for spousal support, Ms. Müller?”

Karina shook her head. “No. I’m not asking for anything, I just want this to be finalized so we can move on.”

His lawyer nodded. “And you are fine with returning the ring and vacating the residence?”

“My client has already returned the ring and has maintained a residence in Toronto for the past year.” Karina’s lawyer interjected now. “We are mainly concerned with making sure that your client will not be trying to get anything from Ms. Müller.”

“I see there is a dog, was the animal obtained together-”

“Elsa belongs to Karina. I’m not contesting that.” Leon spoke up. “Any piece of artwork too, it’s all hers.”

“Ok,” Karina’s lawyer responded. “Both parties agree to part with what they entered the marriage with. Is this correct?”

“I don’t know…I guess i just feel like…” Leon sighed heavily as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I feel like we’re rushing things along.”

Karina sat perfectly still in the chair next to him, straight as a pin. “Leon, we’ve been separated for over a year, it’s time for us to move on.”

Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, Leon sighed again and tried to wrap his mind around how their relationship had progressed to this point. “Alright. What do you need me to sign?”

Once the papers were signed and notarized, their lawyers shook hands and departed leaving Leon and Karina to sit in silence.

“Do, um…” Leon was getting frustrated with how hesitant he was feeling. “Would you want to get dinner tonight?”

Karina opened her mouth before frowning slightly. “Leon, that sounds very nice but I’m not sure if that’s the best idea.”

“Yeah, I get that. It’s just this feels like a shitty way to close things.” He shrugged. “I thought this would be an ok way to make it up to you.”

She started to say that there was no need to make anything up to her, she held no ill will towards him but ultimately she thought better of it and simply nodded. Karina would have rather done anything else than to sit down to dinner with him but considered it one last good faith effort before moving on completely.

Leon set the reservations at the restaurant of the Charles hotel where Karina was staying. He had done so out of convenience for Karina, she knew that, but she also knew he had probably forgotten the time when they sat in the same restaurant and she confessed that she was hopelessly in love with him.

With a sigh, she pulled a simple black shirt dress from the closet and made sure it hadn’t gotten too wrinkled in travel. After deciding that her hair and makeup were fine, Karina checked at the front desk but was shown to the table despite Leon having not arrived yet.

She glanced over the menu but didn’t see anything that really jumped out at her so she let her eyes wander around the restaurant. Karina looked up towards the entrance just in time to see Leon holding the door open for Mathea who was wearing the same dress Karina wore to their wedding. Seeing the two of them walk in together caused Karina’s stomach to plummet to the floor. She saw a server pass and she held up one finger to flag him down. “I’m sorry, could I get a double vodka soda with a slice of lemon, please? Thanks.”

She stood as they were ushered to the table, avoiding any sort of eye contact as they sat down.

Leon smiled and placed a hand on her forearm. “You look great, Mausi.”

Karina smiled but more out of a desire to be polite. Mathea being there to begin with put her on edge, but the display of affection from Leon only made it worse.

Mathea didn’t pass up the opportunity to look her over from head to toe, ending her gaze with a smirk. “Do you ever wear anything with color?”

“Rarely.” Leon had to stop himself from laughing as Karina delivered the line deadpan.

Her expression turning to a sneer, Mathea would not let Karina get away with besting her. “You look like a nun only there’s the problem of your devil worship-”

“Mathea, enough.” Leon cut in now, attempting to keep a somewhat civil conversation.

“It’s nice to see you as well, Mathea.” Karina offered a kind but entirely forced smile. “A bit unexpected if I do say so, especially in that dress.”

Mathea grinned. “It’s lovely, isn’t it? I needed to have it taken in, I was practically swimming in it before!”

Leon immediately ducked his head. “Sorry, I thought you’d be bringing…sorry.”

“Bringing who?” She pressed him, curious as to who Leon would have had in mind.

He inhaled deeply. “I thought your boyfriend would have come with you.”

“Nope. Just me.” Karina forced a smile. “No boyfriend.”

“Hmm.” Mathea smiled more smugly now. “That’s a shame. Leon and I just got back from Ibiza, we had a great time together with Marius.”

“Lovely.” Karina nodded slightly, attempting not to bristle at the mention of her brother. “Glad you had fun.”

Leon went on about various events and goings on, seemingly oblivious to Mathea’s desire to agitate Karina and Karina’s subsequent distress.

“You know,” Mathea looked over to Leon and smiled fondly. “I’ve always wanted to see what you call ‘the big house’. I’ve always wondered of it really was that big.”

Leon hesitated, knowing that would be a sore spot. “No, that’s not really-”

“It's being rented, actually,” Karina hadn’t intended it to be a jab but the shocked look plastered on Mathea’s face was incredible satisfying. “About eight months ago.”

Mathea shook her head. “No, you had no right to do that without consulting us. What if we wanted to use it? I thought it would make a nice setting for a wedding.”

“A wedding…” She spoke softly and did her best not to show her irritation that Mathea was even part of this discussion. “It's my house, my estate. I discussed my thoughts with Olga and she was ready to move on as well. Apparently Marwin told her that he didn’t want me to feel weighed down by the house and should sell it if I wanted to. I thought about that but I didn't want to part with it because of my memories with Marwin there.”

It wasn't intentional, but Karina enjoyed watching Leon flinch when she mentioned wanting to hold on to her memories of Strohmann.

“But you were married. Leon should have gotten half.” Mathea was practically scowling now. “Or spousal support.”

Leon held his hands up. “No. There is no reason for me to ask anything of Karina just because she’s worth more than I am. I’m not going to be petty or vindictive because you want a bigger place to live.”

The waiter had arrived with Karina’s drink and prepared to take their orders as well when she stopped him. “Thank you, but I think I’m actually just going to take this to my room. If you could charge their meal to my room as well?”

Slightly dumbfounded, the waiter nodded as Karina stood and raised her glass to Mathea and Leon. “Enjoy.”

Back in her room, Karina drained her glass quickly. The alcohol hit her hard on an empty stomach but it wasn’t enough to numb her yet. She grabbed the room service menu and ordered a dinner she would appreciate much more than anything at Sofia’s and a bottle of Prosecco to wash it down with.

Leon was visibly sullen for the rest of the evening which only frustrated Mathea.

“What are you so pissed about?” Mathea sat in the passenger seat and sulked.

It took Leon a minute to respond. “You could have pretended to be nice.”

“Sorry? I just figured we’re never going to like each other and we’re never going to see her again so why bother?” She reached over and rested her hand on his thigh. “Besides, we can actually talk about getting married now.”

Leon didn’t respond. He figured it would be better to wait to tell her that he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to get married again.

#Leon Goretzka #things we do for love

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aleteia-ff · 5 years ago

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A Decade To Find You - Part 5

Also Read On: AO3 | FF.net

Thank you all for sticking with this story! Here’s the final installment <3

December 31st, 2019 | Part 2

The main conclusion Astrid had drawn in 2019 was that Hiccup still lived underneath a social media-less rock. So while she now had two things to apologise for, she couldn’t get in contact with him, no matter how hard she tried.

She wanted to say sorry for still not having called him. And for making him think she had moved on. Because while she had attempted to, while she had thought that simply having fun with one of her colleagues wouldn’t hurt, it wasn’t true. The moment she had seen Hiccup, she had wanted to run to him and apologise. But he’d cycled away, and by the time she’d convinced Eret to go after him, they couldn’t find him anymore. Eret had been awfully sweet about it, had told her that she had made it clear enough that they weren’t serious. And that he’d gladly help her work out some of her frustration at the gym or the shooting range instead.

Hiccup was the reason she’d taken Eret with her that night in the first place, after all. Because the closer they had gotten to the New Year’s Eve of 2018, the more she had started to dread the thought of seeing Hiccup with his girlfriend again. After all, she hadn’t been able to stalk his Facebook and see if they had broken up in the meantime. Bringing someone else with her was the only insurance she could give herself against being humiliated again. That, or staying home altogether. And she wasn’t going to let herself be that easily defeated.

It had been uncannily desperate, given that ever since she’d lost Hiccup’s number, she hadn’t concerned herself with dating at all. Sure, the police academy kept her busy, although she still had time for it if she wanted to. But she found she simply lacked the interest. She didn’t need it. She’d been feeling good about herself, and now that she had gotten a better idea of the downsides to becoming a police officer, she still didn’t have any regrets. Because while she’d fallen out of love with medicine for exactly those mundane, “this is what you will actually be doing on a daily basis” reasons, she found herself loving this job in spite of those things.

She finally felt like she’d found her place. To the extent a 26-year old could, she supposed. She was, at the very least, no longer worried about whatever came next.

Which is why it was even stranger that she still couldn’t get Hiccup out of her head. And that this year, she had headed to the centre of town with more confidence and purpose than she ever had before.

She was going to find him tonight. And no matter the circumstances, regardless of what would be thrown in her way, she would finally apologise to him.

After all, as practical as she was, she also couldn’t ignore the way in which nearly every blog or Instagram page shoved this year being the last of the decade right in her face. And while she wasn’t superstitious, and she believed in hard work rather than fate, she also couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that if she didn’t go out tonight, on the last day that belonged to the ten years in which she’d experienced so much, growing from a teenager to someone that she would sort-of call an adult… That after this decade, which had started with Hiccup, she wouldn’t get the chance to see him again.

And even if that was her just reading too many self-indulgent Soulmate AU fanfics of The Witcher, she didn’t really care anymore. Because that was also the agreement she’d made with herself. She was allowed to try for one more day, to finish off the decade and go full circle. And if it didn’t result in anything, then that was fine. She would simply let it go, Frozen-style.

But she could still hope, right?

So she’d put on her favourite leggings and skirt, topped off by a warm sweater that was both comfortable and accentuated her figure, the front parts of her hair pulled back into a loose bun while the rest hung loose down her back. No pretence. Just her, the way she wanted to be seen.

A few hours before midnight, she parked her bicycle in the street Hiccup had spotted her in the year before. She ventured into town, intending to start in the centre squares and end up here at the end of the night.

Or perhaps not. She hoped not.

While she’d changed a lot over the past ten years, Berk still felt remarkably similar. The stalls of the winter market hadn’t stopped selling the kind of items no one really used, although there were remarkably more smart phone cases. While some of the bars had changed, their spirit, many of them proud rip-offs of “Viking culture” and serving pints to match those ideas, had remained.

If someone had asked for her opinion on that rigidness when she was 16, she would have called it boring. Would have reassured anyone that she would leave Berk as soon as she could, and that she would never look back. And now she was here, noting to herself that his would likely be one of her last New Year’s Eves as a civilian instead of on duty. She was looking forward to it, to be done with training and start actually serving. But it was also yet another reason for her to track Hiccup down this year.

Now if only he would show himself, that would make her life a lot easier.

She stopped by every place she had seen him at since the moment they’d met. The hot chocolate stand by the river, where people were already trying to secure the best spot to watch the fireworks show. The ice skating rink in the centre, lacking a cute lanky guy stumbling over his fake foot. The street on which Hiccup had charmingly hurled his guts into the snow. The club where she had kissed a random guy for him to see, now embarrassingly empty because it was only just past 10 PM. The corner cafe he’d been sitting at with his friends, perfectly showcasing how handsome he’d become. The bar she’d seen him sitting in behind the window, making her want to hug him because he’d looked so beaten down by the world. Gruffnut’s Grunge Grotto, surprisingly still open, where she had walked away from him after he’d rejected her the year before. The site of their fateful meeting in 2016, when the stars had finally aligned, albeit only temporarily.

Until she finally reached her bike at 11 PM, coming up empty-handed.

But she refused to let that be the end of it. It was very likely that if he was indeed here, and she wanted to believe he was, that she had simply missed him. Berk was still a sizable town, after all. She had to scan the streets better, practice her surveillance and stake-out techniques, go into more bars because it was cold and most people were inside.

She had to try harder.

Because with one hour left on the clock, one hour until everyone else would celebrate the start of the new decade, she didn’t care anymore about what other people thought, or how desperate and downright crazy she’d become. After all, it simply felt like the right thing to do. To find Hiccup. And finally, truly, scratch that itch that had been bugging her for so many years.

And she couldn’t shake the simmering panic caused by the notion that this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. That she should have seen him already, because time was running out. That if she didn’t find him now, before midnight, that the spell would be broken.

So she quickened her pace as she made another round, checking her phone more often than she should.

23:07.

23:16 and a message from Heather, asking her if she’d gotten lucky yet.

23:18.

23:21, Heather telling her what bar she and Dagur were at, in case she needed a break.

23:27.

Then she glanced back up from her phone, and behind the glass window of an Irish pub, she finally caught a glimpse of a familiar face.

It wasn’t Hiccup. But she supposed it qualified as the next best thing.

She rushed inside, pushing herself through the crowd until she reached him, the dark-haired over-dramatic diva who had punched Dagur three years ago, adrenaline and hope coursing through her veins.

She tapped his shoulder a little more urgently than strictly polite, and she wasn’t surprised when he turned around, clearly agitated, only for his eyes to open up in surprise when he took her in.

“You!” he stammered. “I know you!”

“Yes, I’m -”

“No, don’t tell me,” he stopped her, putting up his hand. “I got this.”

“I never introduced myself to you, so it’s -”

“Oh, I’m aware.” Hiccup’s cousin rolled his eyes. “You’re the bitch who never called Hiccup.”

She clenched her jaw, exasperated. “Excuse me?”

“Look, honey -”

“It’s Astrid, actually.”

“Okay fine, “Astrid”,” he sighed, gesturing with his fingers to put her name between quotation marks. “We can keep pretending I don’t know what you did, but I do. You told him you would call, and you didn’t. So obviously you think my cousin’s not good enough for you, which means I -” He gestured to himself despite the fact that he was clearly smaller than her, and that she’d proven she could kick his ass before. “- have nothing more to say to you.”

“My phone broke,” she hissed between her teeth, counting to ten in her head and repeating all anger management techniques they’d taught her at the academy.

“Oh,” Hiccup’s cousin stammered.

“And that’s your fault,” she stressed, pointing at him. “If you hadn’t started a fight with Dagur, I wouldn’t have fallen, I wouldn’t have lost Hiccup’s number, and I actually could’ve called him. And since he doesn’t know what the word ‘social media’ means, I couldn’t exactly contact him in any other way.”

“He has LinkedIn,” Hiccup’s cousin shrugged.

“Where he probably doesn’t use the name ‘Hiccup’. And that’s the only name he gave me,” she clarified.

“So now you’re here talking to me because…?”

“I’d like to explain to him what happened, because I never got the chance to. Is he here too?”

“No.” Hiccup’s cousin shook his head. “He stayed home.”

Her heart dropped.

He’d stayed home.

He’d given up.

But she couldn’t.

“Do you think he’d want to come out after all…?” she tried. “If you text him?”

“I doubt it.”

No, no, no.

“And if I call him? Finally?”

Hiccup’s cousin pulled up his eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t have his number.”

“You could give it to me,” she proposed. “Along with your own name, as a back-up. Because you do look like the type with an Insta profile.”

“Girl, you have no idea how many followers I have. Look for Snotlout Jorgenson -” She cocked her head at him, and he rolled his eyes in response. “No, that’s not a stage name or an alias, it’s my actual godsdamned name. You see, my family, it -” Snotlout paused, put up both of his hands and took a deep breath, shaking his head at no one in particular. “No, this is not about me. It’s already the Snotman-show every other night of the year.”

“So you will give it to me?” she asked, only realising her phrasing-failure when Snotlout gave her an exaggerated wink.

“Anytime.”

“Ew.”

Snotlout put his hand on his chest, gasping. “So rude. I don’t even know if I should help you anymore.”

“Oh, come on,” she groaned, getting her phone out of her shoulder bag and checking the time.

23:35.

Time’s running out, Cinderella.

“What’s in it for me?” Snotlout dared to ask.

“You’re helping out your cousin?”

“Am I, though?” Snotlout clacked his tongue. “Only thing I know about you is that you stood him up last time. How do I know you won’t do the same again?”

“Because I’m promising you I won’t,” she stressed, hating how begging she sounded. “And you have my name, you can track me down if I don’t keep my word.”

“Not enough.”

“Then what else could you possibly want from me!?”

“I…” Snotlout continued, smirking as if things were finally coming together. “… will give you Hiccup’s number, if you…” He got his phone out of his back pocket at the lowest speed humanly possible. “… send me the contact details of the cute redhead you were with three years ago.”

“Cute redhead?” She frowned, mentally going over her female friends. She hadn’t been with any of them three years ago, not yet at least. It had just been Hiccup, and… “Wait, Dagur?”

“That’s his name?”

“Dagur, the one you punched in the face because he came up to you and called you, I quote, ‘a snack’? That Dagur?”

Snotlout’s eyes lit up. “Yes, that’s the one!”

“Are you sure? The guy who broke your nose?”

Snotlout put his phone to his chest, dreamingly staring out of the window. “I can’t help but think of him every time I sneeze.”

“Then why did you punch him in the first place?” she groaned through gritted teeth, stuck between wanting to leave as soon as possible and getting to the bottom of this because it was just so thoroughly, completely weird.

“I just wasn’t… in that place, at the time,” Snotlout murmured, barely audible above the pub’s crowd. He looked down at his feet, as if he were actually embarrassed. “One hundred percent convinced I was straight, lashing out against anyone who dared to suggest anything else because I happened to be into theatre and musicals, and my Chris Hemsworth posters were hanging next to my favourite characters from Glee.” He rolled his eyes. “My friend Ruffnut sent me a collage of articles on toxic masculinity as a joke birthday present that year. Turns out they were actually quite useful.”

“Wow.”

“I know, self-insight is truly indescribable,” Snotlout nodded to himself.

“Okay…” She took a deep breath. “I can’t give you Dagur’s number without his consent, -” Snotlout was visibly about to protest, but she put up her finger. “But I can tell you where he is right now, and you can make it up with him and ask him yourself. Deal?”

Snotlout mulled for a bit, then swiped around on his phone and showed her the screen. “Fine.”

Contact details, belonging to ‘Cousincup’. Accompanied by a series of vaguely familiar numbers.

She quickly copied it, double checking whether she had done it right at least three times before telling an increasingly impatient Snotlout what cafe Dagur was at. They left the pub together and she thanked him, dialling Hiccup’s number as soon as Snotlout walked away, her heart beating in her throat.

It rang once…

Twice…

Another time…

Until she finally heard a light beep, and rustling on the other side. “Hello?”

It was him. The slightly nasal yet adorable voice was unmistakably, wonderfully his.

“Hiccup!”

“Yes… Who’s this?”

“It’s Astrid.”

“Oh…” Hiccup stammered. “Oh.”

“We talked three years ago, at the market, and you gave me your number,” she rattled, suddenly nervous. “I fell on my phone when trying to break up the fight, and it broke, so I lost it… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Hiccup mumbled, sounding awfully distant. “But then how did you -”

“I ran into your cousin just now,” she explained. “Snotlout. He gave it to me.”

“I see.”

“He’s quite the spectacle,” she joked, hoping to get a smile, anything.

“Yeah, I suppose my condolences are in order,” Hiccup chuckled, finally.

“They’re very much appreciated,” she smiled.

A silence followed, and she cleared her throat. “Look, Hiccup, I’m really sorry about what happened three years ago… I tried to track you down on social media, but I couldn’t, so I just… I just wanted to ask if you wanted to meet up tonight after all.”

It took a moment for Hiccup to respond. “I can’t.”

She hardly registered his next words, too overwhelmed by her heart being thrown off a cliff and dropping straight into a canyon at least as deep as the Mariana Trench. “I can’t leave my dog alone tonight.”

“Oh…” was all she could give him, because this was not how this was supposed to go. With only twenty minutes left in the decade, her normally quick mind shut down.

Say something, Astrid, anything. Ask him to go get coffee tomorrow, or the day after, or just sometime.

“But you could come over here if you’d like to?”

She was dumbstruck for a moment, wondering if that question had just been a fragment of her imagination. But as soon as she registered it, she didn’t hesitate to answer. “Yes!”

“Really?” Hiccup sounded more surprised than she was. “How much time do I have to tidy up?”

“That depends on what your address is.”

“Right. Addresses. Very useful for people who want to… go to places.”

She could hear the voice of Chandler from Friends in her head. Could he be any cuter?

“Chief’s Drive. Number three,” Hiccup completed.

She put him on speaker phone and quickly pulled up Google Maps. She didn’t know the street itself, but recognised the area. Exactly on the other side of town from where she lived. No wonder they’d never run into each other.

“Maps tells me it should be like 10 minutes by bicycle.” She checked the time. 23:42. Her heart jumped. “So I’ll be there before midnight.”

“Be careful, though. They’re pretty sloppy when it comes to salting the roads over here.”

She started walking, her bike only a block or two away. “I’m Berkian, I think I can handle it.”

“Of course you can,” Hiccup laughed.

“So I’ll see you there,” she smiled, not quite believing this was actually happening.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

With that, she hung up, and started sprinting. Because she’d been offered a second chance, and she was holding on as tightly as she could.

---------------------------

“Oh Gods, oh Gods, oh. Gods.”

Hiccup had not been joking entirely when he’d asked Astrid how long he had until she arrived. While he was normally quite happy with the way he maintained the house, the thought of Astrid Hofferson coming over suddenly made the whole place seem like an exploded mess and entirely dog.

Toothless watched him with big, questioning eyes as Hiccup rushed around, stuffing doggy toys and blankets in random cupboards, closets, or simply underneath the couch, but didn’t seem to intend to help Hiccup out in the slightest. Pretending he wasn’t the one who had made the mess in the first place. Instead, Toothless simply laid down on the couch - where he knew he wasn’t allowed without Hiccup explicitly saying yes - giving Hiccup a look that clearly said ‘what are you going to do about it, you desperate mess?’.

Hiccup himself was wondering exactly the same thing. He didn’t know why he’d even popped the question.

You could come over here if you’d like to?

Of course he was lying to himself, because he actually did know. He knew that despite him repeating to himself time and time again that he didn’t need Astrid in his life, that he was over her, that it was all just a coincidence and that they weren’t meant to be, that he had been defeated the moment he’d heard her voice on the other end of the phone. He’d tried to play it cool, to make it seem like he didn’t care, so he wouldn’t get caught up in this again. But it’d only taken a few minutes before he’d completely crumbled.

Toothless was right to judge him for it. But it was 2019. The end of the decade in which every year had started or ended with Astrid. And with only a few minutes left on the clock, he allowed himself to be a little superstitious.

So when at 23:55, he found his living room in an acceptable state, he simply sat down on the couch and waited, ruffling Toothless’ fur, his good foot tapping on the floor while the minutes crept by.

She’d said she’d be here before midnight. She’d also said she’d call him, three years ago. But he believed her excuse, tried not to beat himself up over not contacting her himself. He couldn’t change that anymore. But the least he could do now was believe the new promise she’d made him.

After what seemed like an eternity, Toothless started to whimper as fireworks went off outside, marking the start of the new year.

And Astrid wasn’t there.

Hiccup scoffed and sunk deeper into his seat. Of course she hadn’t come. She’d just been playing with him again.

Gods, he was a fool. He was so easy. One would think that after such a long time, after an entire decade, he’d learnt something. She’d been out of his league when they’d met ten years ago, and that hadn’t changed. Although he knew now that he did have value, unlike his insecure teenage self, he still shouldn’t have deluded himself into thinking Astrid truly liked him.

Some girls were simply heartbreakers, after all. And not worth his time.

“At least I have you, right bud?”

Toothless responded with an affirmative bark, and Hiccup supposed that for once, it wasn’t too bad that he’d have to vacuum the couch tomorrow to get rid of all the long black Labrador hairs. They could use a hug right now.

But nevertheless, they both sat up when barely five minutes, right after another salvo of fireworks, the doorbell rang.

And despite all he’d been telling himself, his heart nearly burst with excitement.

---------------------

Astrid hardly looked presentable, snow stuck in her hair and on her clothes, when she finally rang the doorbell of Chief’s Drive, 3. She cursed inwardly when she heard another series of fireworks go off in the distance, confirming what she already knew. She was too late.

What if the spell had been broken?

The fireworks were followed by a short bark, and several footsteps approaching the front door of a house that was very different from what she’d expected. She’d been looking for a student apartment, and had had to check Google Maps again when she’d finally skidded into a street with nothing but pairs of suburban family homes. Was Hiccup still living with his parents? But he had been talking about leaving his dog alone… Maybe they were out tonight?

She was snapped out of her thoughts by scratching, followed by a shout. “Toothless, down!”

Her stomach jumped at the sound of Hiccup’s voice, and completely filled with butterflies when the door opened to reveal a sheepishly looking Hiccup, his hair sticking out to the sides of his head, and an excitedly panting black Labrador.

She cleared her throat. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Hiccup mumbled, rubbing the back of his head and smoothing out his hair, making her quickly comb her fingers through her own.

“Sorry I’m late.” She gestured vaguely to her bike, which she’d left at the side of the street. “You weren’t wrong about them not salting the roads. I almost slipped like four times and had to walk for a while.”

“Are you okay?”

“I am.”

“And you’re here now,” Hiccup smiled softly, warming her heart.

The corners of her mouth pulled up at their own volition. “Yeah. Finally.”

“Do you -” Hiccup awkwardly stepped aside. “Do you want to come in?”

She nodded and crossed the doorway, only to instantly be sniffed down by Hiccup’s dog.

“I’m sorry,” Hiccup apologised. “He’s very curious.”

“Don’t worry, dogs don’t scare me. Is he okay with strangers petting him?”

“Oh, yeah,” Hiccup laughed. “A little too much so, I’d argue. He can’t get enough attention.”

She knelt down, giving the Labrador some well-deserved scratches and pets. “Did I hear you call him Toothless?”

“Yep.”

She laughed, squinting at Toothless’ jaws. “From what I can see, he does have teeth.”

“I got him from the shelter,” Hiccup explained. “He pretended to be a tough guy, like he didn’t need anyone to take him home. As I suspected, he was all bark, no bite. Hence, Toothless.”

“Why would he end up at a shelter? He’s so cute.”

Hiccup crouched next to her, pointing at where Toothless’ left hind leg was supposed to be. But instead, she only saw a stump.

“He lost it in an accident,” Hiccup elaborated before she could ask. Like Hiccup himself, she realised. “His owners didn’t want him anymore after that. Thought he’d be too much work.”

“No wonder he likes to receive some extra love.” She made a silly kissing face. “Don’t you, Toothless?”

Toothless happily wagged his tail and licked her cheek, clearly saying yes. She rewarded him with a few more scratches underneath his red collar, a dragon-shaped pendant hanging from it.

“Let me get you a tissue for that,” Hiccup chuckled, walking down the hall to what she assumed was the kitchen.

She got back up and followed him through a door into a kitchen that was more well-equipped than someone still in, or just out of college should be able to afford, connected to a horribly old-fashioned living room. Whoever did own this house was massively into timber and an embarrassing amount of tacky Viking decorations, ranging from historically inaccurate helmets to an actual longboat on display in a cabinet. The furniture was a thrown-together mix of old, Scottish-looking couches and chairs, finished off by a Scandinavian touch. From IKEA, to be precise. The seemingly only item from the 21st century was a big flat-screen TV, paused on a particularly cute shot of Baby Yoda.

“So you like Vikings, huh?” she grinned as Hiccup handed her a tissue and she wiped off her cheek.

Hiccup smiled, shrugging at his surroundings. “You should blame my dad for that, not me.”

Ah, so he was indeed still living with his parents, like she’d presumed.

“According to him, if you dive really far back into our family tree, you will find us to be actual descendants from Vikings,” Hiccup chuckled, gesturing to himself. “Which is why I look like such a warrior.”

She cocked her head at him and squinted. “I can kind of see it, actually.”

“Sure,” Hiccup snorted. “You’d probably kick my ass even harder than Snotlout’s.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” she teased, stepping a bit closer so he was forced to look at her. She could faintly smell him, a mixture of typical guy deodorant and something she couldn’t completely place. Which was his.

It made her want to curl her arms around his neck and get even closer. She was still kind of cold and he looked so warm, so like home, so like someone she had had to miss for way too long. How had she done it all these years, been content with only seeing him for a moment instead of every single day?

She hadn’t been. She’d been fine, she’d been good, but he looked like the gateway to great and she just had to kiss him, her eyes inadvertently darting down to his lips.

But she didn’t completely mind it when he awkwardly cleared his throat instead, because he just looked so darn cute doing it, revealing the gap between his teeth.

“Would you like something to drink?”

She didn’t comment on how he sounded slightly hoarse, and how the freckles on his cheeks now contrasted with a colour quite close to pink. She simply smiled to herself, feeling happy and so, so lucky to have gotten here after all.

“Sure. What do you have?”

“Not that much, actually,” Hiccup illustrated by pulling open a relatively empty fridge. “I wasn’t expecting guests.” He rummaged through one of the cabinets, triumphantly pulling out a brown package and waving it at her. “But of course I do have hot chocolate powder.”

“Well, it’s not real hot chocolate…”

“Obviously.”

“But I think it’ll do.”

“Oh, it will do,” Hiccup reassured her. “My culinary skills shouldn’t be underestimated.”

He illustrated his point by pulling a pan out of one of the cabinets and twirling it around in his hand, only to almost drop it. She simply chuckled and shook her head as he put it on the stove, awkwardly shrugging at her as if nothing had gone wrong at all.

She let her gaze wander around the room as Hiccup heated up the milk, her eyes following Toothless as he jumped up on the couch, and eventually landing on a side table full of picture frames. Unable to contain her curiosity and since Hiccup didn’t seem to mind, she walked over to them.

It was a collection you’d find in most family homes. They were mostly pictures of Hiccup as a child, looking a lot closer to the boy who’d spilt hot chocolate over her coat than the man currently expertly handling a ladle. Quite a few photographs featured a tall woman she assumed to be Hiccup’s mother, although judging by the clothing style, they were from the 90s at the latest. The least represented family member was a tall man, wearing jeans and a lumberjack shirt in nearly every one of his pictures.

A man whose face she recognised.

“Haddock…” she mumbled.

“Hm?”

“Haddock,” she repeated, looking back at Hiccup. “That’s your last name.”

“Yeah, Henrik Haddock, nice to meet you,” Hiccup smiled. “Did Snotlout tell you?”

“No.” She nodded at the photo frames. “I recognise your father’s picture.”

“Oh.” Hiccup frowned and crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter. “How…? I mean, where…?”

“We have a wall of pictures at the police academy,” she explained. “I enrolled in 2017, and his picture is on there…”

Stoick Haddock, fatally stabbed by an everyday mugger when he’d almost reached retirement age. That’s what people had told her when she’d asked for the stories of brave men and women in the photographs.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she breathed, unsure of what to do with herself when Hiccup almost visibly shrank.

“It’s okay,” Hiccup shrugged. “I got used to having the house to myself.”

To himself…

She glanced back at the photos, realising why there were no recent images of Hiccup’s mother. She didn’t know if she had left, or died, and it didn’t feel like the time to ask. She’d simply been assuming Hiccup was still living with his parents, while instead, this house was simply the only thing he had left of them. The decorations belonging to his father, the old-fashioned style of furniture…

It suddenly all made sense. And gods, she wanted to hug him, hoping to somehow make up for all he’d lost.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated once again, even though she knew her sympathies couldn’t possibly make it any better.

“So you’re with the police?” Hiccup asked, obviously trying to change the topic, his voice soft. He’d turned his back to her, focusing on the pan in front of him.

“Yeah, although I’m still in training.” And you gave me the idea to begin with.

“Do you like it?”

“I do.”

“That’s great.”

He sounded off, so off. Her voice of reason told her she didn’t know him well enough to know his ‘off’, but she walked over to him regardless, leaning on the countertop so she could look at his face. But he pretended to be preoccupied with stirring.

“Is that okay with you?”

Hiccup scoffed lightly. “Why would it matter if I am okay with it?”

She didn’t know the answer to that question either. “Because it does.”

When Hiccup stayed quiet, she continued: “You gave me the idea, actually… Three years ago, when you joked about me being an undercover cop, I kept thinking about that and it just seemed… perfect. Becoming a doctor wasn’t for me, but I always wanted to help people, and I actually really, really like this job.” She had no idea why she was justifying herself to him, but she kept going anyways. “I wanted to tell you, to thank you, but I’d lost your number, couldn’t find any Hiccups on social media, and then on New Year’s Eve 2018 I didn’t get to talk to you because -”

“Because you saw me with Cami,” Hiccup completed. “I know.”

“Are you still with her?”

He’d asked her here himself, so he couldn’t be, right?

“No. We broke up over a year ago.”

And a year ago she was… “And I’ve never dated Eret to begin with,” she implored, because he still hadn’t met her gaze again and it was killing her.

Hiccup simply nodded, sucking on his lower lip before he spoke up again. “To answer your question; I don’t think I would’ve been okay with it if you had told me you’d joined the police two years ago…”

He sighed deeply, closing his eyes. “But it’s been five years since he died, and it’s getting easier to remember all of the reasons why my dad loved his job. Somewhat. And I’m trying to be proud that he gave his life to save that woman, because I know that if he had been given the choice, even knowing he’d die, he would save her life again.” He finally looked at her, his eyes soft and watery. “And if you’re like him, then you’re simply another person to admire.”

Hiccup wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his green sweater, and she instinctively caught his hand on the way down. His eyes flickered down, and for a brief moment she was worried he’d pull away, but instead he interlaced his fingers with hers, making her heart skip a beat.

“Five years ago…” she murmured, taking another step closer. “You were sitting in that bar, and you just looked so…” She squeezed his hand, biting her lip as another piece of the puzzle fell into place. “I get why you didn’t want me to come over to you.”

“I just couldn’t,” Hiccup told her, his voice almost a whisper. He smiled to himself. “But seeing you, even just briefly, made that absolutely dreadful year a little bit less shit. It meant the world me.” He softly rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, sending shivers down her spine. “You did, somehow.”

Somehow. “Those weren’t my best years either,” she admitted, wanting to be honest with him, finally. “I didn’t know where my life was going, I was drinking and sleeping my student days away, and then I saw you at Gruffnut’s and I…” I wanted to go drag you into one of the bathroom stalls. “I just realised that I wanted to be better. For guys like you.” She swallowed, suddenly feeling awkward. She wanted to look away, but his green eyes only drew her in, deeper and deeper. “For you.”

Hiccup’s breath hitched. “So you felt it too…? Every year, every time…”

“Of course I did.” Because it was so obvious, right? In hindsight, it always had been. “Especially after I’d spotted you that year on the terrace, and you’d suddenly gotten unfairly cute.”

“After I’d seen you kiss another guy in the club the year before.”

“I remembered seeing you that year, not him,” she confessed, drawing in closer, also taking his other hand, which had stilled on the ladle. “I should have known then.”

“I should have known when you smiled at me, every time, even if I stumbled over my feet or was hurling my guts into the snow…”

“… especially since I still thought you were cute in spite of that,” she chuckled.

Hiccup laughed with her. “I’m such a Prince Charming.” Then, softer again: “I couldn’t believe my luck when you came to talk to me at the market.”

“My heart broke in even more pieces than my phone when I realised I’d lost your number.”

“I’d looked up all your socials, but didn’t contact you because I thought you weren’t interested after all.”

The confessions were just pouring out of her, with no end in sight. And she didn’t want it to end. “When I saw you with that girl the year after, I thought I’d missed my shot.”

“I figured you’d obviously moved on when I saw you on the back of that motorcycle.”

She inched in closer, looking for his warmth. “And then this year, I couldn’t shake the feeling that…”

“With the end of the decade…” Hiccup nodded, leaning his forehead against hers.

“Tonight was the last chance I had to find you.”

Hiccup squeezed her hands. “I’d already given up. I stayed home, thought I didn’t need you, that it was fine, that if it was never right before, why would it be right now? I’m so sorry, Astrid, I -”

“But I made it here,” she whispered, closing her eyes, her nose brushing against his. “I was too late, I only got here past twelve, but it still feels…”

“… right,” Hiccup completed, his breath hot against her lips.

And then he kissed her.

She had missed the fireworks at 12 o’clock, but she was absolutely sure that they could never measure up against the ones currently setting her body ablaze. The feeling of his lips against hers made her skin tingle, down from her toes up to where Hiccup softly cupped her cheek, deepening their kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in even closer.

They separated after a glorious eternity, leaving the both of them panting as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Hiccup’s beautiful eyes, his gorgeously long fingers sliding down to her waist.

“I don’t know what this is,” Hiccup whispered after kissing her again. “I don’t believe in soulmates, or meant to be, fate is a bitch after all, and -”

“Me neither,” she cut him off, chasing after his lips because it never lasted long enough, because she wanted more.

“But - and this is going to sound really sappy -”

“You talk too much?”

Hiccup’s face broke into a wide grin, and she couldn’t help but smile too.

“I’d like to take this next decade to find out.”

She didn’t tell him she wanted that too. She simply kissed him, giving him all the confirmation they had both so sorely needed for too many years.

It was obvious to her, after all.

It had taken her a decade to find him. And she didn’t want to lose him ever again.

#a decade to find you #fanfic #httyd #httyd fanfic #hiccstrid #aleteia writes #nye #new year's eve fic #fanfiction #toothless being cute #snotlout being iconic #i love them #really enjoyed working on this #modern au

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tuanhood · 5 years ago

Text

not stalking

pairing: im jaebeom x reader (ft. a bit of mark)

genre: fluff, angst(?)

word count: 3,346

summary: you’re finally ready to really talk to your crush… except someone else is in his usual place.

a/n: um so this is really bad and I don’t know why I wrote it but here u go! not edited WHOOPS

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Even you had to admit what a stupid idea it was to keep coming back here almost every single day. You had done the internet stalking before, but actual physical stalking? It was a first time for everything.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was what it was like for your grandparents or even parents. To be so enthralled by someone that you come to their workplace day after day. Maybe then it was sweet, but now in 2019 you knew it would be considered creepy. And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from passing by the window of the animal shelter on your way home from university. Although it wasn’t on the typical route back to your place, you would constantly make excuses as to why you had to go that way.

Examples of excuses you would tell yourself and your friends include, but not limited to:

Ah well my second favorite coffee shop is nearby, and I haven’t been in forever!

I heard they’re doing construction work the other way.

There’s something fresher about the air this way.

I can’t deal with all the people holding clipboards and asking questions, even if it’s the quicker route.

I like to look at the animals at the shelter.

The last one was for sure a lie. Well not for sure, because you did enjoy looking at the animals, but there was something or someone else that you enjoyed the sight of.

It started on a day in May when you accompanied your old housemate to the local animal shelter to help her and her girlfriend choose a dog. You didn’t realize what you had been signing up for was your own adoption to a certain boy who worked at the front desk. Never in your life had you immediately become so hooked to someone. It was as though the minute the two of you locked eyes, he demanded that you dedicated the rest of your life to obsessing over him. And so far, that was telling to be true. That day you couldn’t pay attention or hear your old housemate ask what you thought about a certain dog, instead all you were concentrating on was him, his brown eyes and that smile that melted your heart.

You had never been in a serious relationship before and you had to admit to yourself that maybe it had something to do with your tendency to throw yourself into crushes, but never act upon them. With the way this guy made you feel upon first look, you knew something had to be done – even if it took a year.

Throughout the entire adoption process, as your former housemate signed the papers for her new dog you kept trying to think of something to say on your way out that would impress him or better yet make him declare his love for you.

After the last signature and last filled in blank, you stood up and began to exit the shelter. Your palms began to sweat a little and you felt nausea begin to build in your stomach. Passing by the front desk, you had turned to your right and let out a big sigh, thinking, here goes nothing.

“Um bye, thank you!”

That was it. That was all you had thought of to say in the moment. Thirty minutes of thinking and sitting in a chair as you waited for the adoption papers to be signed you had completely been erased from your memory. Apparently, anything intelligent in your vocabulary had also been erased. “Um bye, thank you,” didn’t even deserve a response, but to your surprise he had turned to you with a big smile.

“Thanks for coming in and adopting a new friend! See you around!”

See you around. He was practically asking you to come back, to come pass by the shelter’s window every day. At that moment you had glanced down at the shirt he was wearing with a name tag attached.

Mark.

From that day Mark had your heart. Mark… Mark… something? So, you weren’t sure what his last name was, but did you really need to to be in love? You had tried to do some in-depth Facebook stalking, but you didn’t have much to go off of except Mark and the place he works. After all who even updates their Facebook profile with their workplace anymore?

Regardless, that led to you passing by almost every day and even going inside sometimes to talk to him. It would often be to just ask a simple question about the adoption process or what kind of breeds of dogs or cats they had in. No matter what it was Mark always managed to answer you with a bright smile and cheerful voice.

Luckily, he hadn’t recognized you yet. Although of course the end goal was to get married or just you know… something – you were nervous about him getting freaked out about you constantly coming in. It wasn’t like an animal shelter was a coffeeshop. You timed out how often you went inside to ask a question to no more than once a week, usually every Tuesday. And every Tuesday you would talk yourself up as to how this would be the time you ask him out or just talk about something that doesn’t have to do with the adoption process and best type of dogs for hiking, but it never happened.

However, you felt really good about this week. This week you had planned on asking Mark about the bracelet he always wears on his left wrist. You had noticed it probably the third week you had gone inside the shelter. Who knows? Maybe it would lead to a conversation about something personal and intimate? Probably not, but you could only hope. Taking a deep breath, you reached the front doors of the shelter without looking into the front window. You didn’t want to see him just yet in case it was going to make you talk yourself into not going through a real conversation with him yet again.

Reaching for the handles of the doors and pulling them open, you stared at the floor. You knew you probably looked like a crazy person, but the butterflies in your stomach began to build. Taking the few steps you needed to get inside, you marched towards the front desk and lifted your head to see Mar-

Not Mark.

Instead, a boy with jet black hair, two moles above one of his eyes and a blank face sat in his place. Your face had fallen and he had noticed.

“Can I help you with something?”

You blinked twice in confusion, “Uh sorry?”

Now it was his turn to blink, “You came in here… I’m assuming you need something. To adopt an animal perhaps?” You wondered why he had emphasized the word animal so strangely, but you decided to discard the thought and answer him.

“Um no sorry, my mistake. I thought- nevermind.” You took this as your chance to turn around and leave completely defeated, but a thought entered your mind. Maybe this could be your chance to gather some kind of intel on Mark? At least his last name so you could stalk him on social media later. What was this mole guy going to say? Hey dude some girl came in asking about you? Mark would never know it was you.

Pausing, you turned around once more back to the occupier of the front desk and cleared your throat. You wanted to come off as confident as though you actually knew what you were doing.

“Actually… I was wondering. Where’s Mark today?” He furrowed his eyebrows at you and took out one of the AirPods he had stuffed into his ears as you had had your internal conflict about leaving the shelter or staying for Mark intel. “Mark who?”

Was this guy new? Then a scary thought had come to you, what if this guy was Mark’s replacement? What if Mark didn’t work here anymore? You would have never known if he had put in his two weeks, after all it’s not like he would have told you. How were you supposed to find him now? Was this it? You stumbled over your words, “M-Mark the one who-who’s usually here.”

Upon hearing your reply, the guy at the desk leaned back in his desk chair and brought his pointer finger to his chin, slowly tapping it in thought. “Hmm… Mark. Mark…. Mark, Mark…”

Taking a closer look, you could tell that he had a slight smirk on his face as if playing with you. Was this guy really just trying to wind you up?

“Sorry, don’t know him,” he said bringing his entire hand down to rest underneath his chin, leaning against the table. It was the clear smile on his face that made you realize that he was indeed teasing you. But why?

“I know you know him. Can you just tell me?” He gave another smile and shook his head from left to right a few times, “Sorry that would be against company policy.”

At this you furrowed your eyebrows, “What kind of company policy would that be?”

“The one where we don’t tell any private information to stalkers.”

You immediately froze. This guy knew about your weekly visits into the shelter? And perhaps even your daily passing by? If he knew… that must mean Mark knew. You felt your stomach drop.

As if reading them, your new tormentor interrupted your thoughts, “Don’t worry Tuan doesn’t pick up on that sort of stuff.”

“Tuan?” You asked. He closes his eyes and hits his hand against his forehead in clear frustration, “Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that. Please don’t look him up on Facebook, Instagram or whatever you use to perform your stalking rituals. It’ll just go to his head and I’ll have to hear about it.”

You had it! Mark Tuan! Mark freaking Tuan. Mrs. Mark Tuan. Mr. Mark Tuan and Mrs-

“I can already tell you’re trying to imagine what your name would sound like with his and I’m getting secondhand embarrassment from it.”

“T-That’s not what I’m doing!” You replied with a strained voice, although it was very much what you were doing. He snorted, “Sure.”

Who did this guy even think he was? He doesn’t know you. Sure, maybe he picked up on the fact that you had been coming by an unhealthy amount to see Mark, but that doesn’t necessarily give him the right to characterize you as a stalker!

“And what if I was doing that? It’s a free country. I’m allowed to have a crush on anyone!” You responded. At that, the guy rolled his eyes and you couldn’t help but feel even more attacked, “Yeah, but a crush on Mark isn’t really a good idea.”

“And why’s that?” It was difficult to gauge your emotions. You couldn’t exactly tell if you were annoyed, frustrated or generally curious about the guy’s notion to tell you that Mark wasn’t a good crush to have. “Mark’s just… not interested in dating.”

“I’m not trying to date him!” You said quickly.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “so are you just trying to fuck him?”

Your eyes widened, “No! Of course not! I’m-” What were you trying to do? Well of course you wanted to date Mark, but the mole guy didn’t need to know that… But it seemed as though he already knew that.

“Listen I work in the cat center here, and us cat people know these things. So it’s better if you just lay off Mark.”

“You work in the cat center?” He nodded his head and looked at you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “How do you think I knew you were passing by every day?”

You mentally face palmed yourself as you realized that when walking by the animal shelter, the window does not cover just the reception desk, but the cat adoption center as well. Not only had you been walking by Mark every day, but apparently this guy too. “Well that’s beside the point. I’m not going to lay off Mark, just because some random guy told me to. For all I know you might not even really know him!”

He sighed, “Listen I might as well tell you this, because either way you’ll find out once you go home and stalk him on social media, but Mark just got out of a long term relationship. And he’s kind of still hoping that they’ll get back together. Haven’t you noticed that he hasn’t caught on that you’ve been coming in here so much?”

Hearing this, your heart fell a bit. Not as much as you thought it would, but you still felt a piece of it chip away. “I-I just thought maybe he wasn’t very observant.”

“Well, that’s true… but he’s also just so invested in his ex he hasn’t really paid attention to anyone else.”

A tight smile came to your face and you wanted nothing more than for the moment to just be over. You already embarrassed yourself enough and standing in front of this guy you barely knew only made things worse somehow. “I-I should just go then. There’s no reason for me to be here then. Thanks for all your… help.”

He got up from his chair, and moved around the desk to grab your wrist, just as you began to turn towards the door. Startled at his sudden closeness, you looked into his eyes. For the first time since you came in, you felt him shy away from you a bit, not having the same confidence and cocky attitude as before. Searching his eyes, you felt him wanting to say something to you, but not knowing exactly how to say it.

He cleared his throat, “you can come and stalk me as much as you like.”

“I wasn’t stalk-“ You stopped yourself from finishing when his words finally caught up to you, “w-what?”

He rolled his eyes at you, “do I really have to say it again? Are you going to make me?”

You stepped back from his grasp, “sorry I’m just a little confused.”

He closed his eyes tightly as if cursing at himself for going about this the wrong way. You laughed at his frustration over the situation, it was actually… kind of cute?

With his eyes still closed, “why don’t we just start over? You know before I-” you cut him off before he could finish, “ruined my harmless crush?”

His eyes shot open, “okay harmless? You were coming in here almost every other day and watching him through the window when you walked by every day!”

“For your information I only came in once a week!”

He blinked twice and thrusted his hand forward, “I’m Jaebeom.”

This was not how you expected this day to go at all. You thought at worst Mark would just ignore you and at best you would maybe end up with a coffee date. What was even happening?

Reluctantly, you took Jaebeom’s hand in yours. You told him your own name and felt Jaebeom’s hand draw back. “I-I know actually,” he paused, “we kind of go to the same university. I’ve seen you around campus a couple of times and then when I noticed you passing by here I kind of just you know…”

“stalked me?” You finished for him.

Jaebeom took a step back in panic, “n-no! I was not stalking you! I just looked you up online… You know… just through a friend of a friend’s profile.” He mumbled the last part.

“Oh so a completely normal thing to do, right?” You teased.

He sighed deeply and looked at the ground, shaking his head. “Ugh I probably shouldn’t even be saying this, because it’s so embarrassing… but I thought you recognized me from school and that’s why you had been passing by here,” he avoided making eye contact and kept his head down towards the floor, “then when you come in and I saw the way you asked Mark all those random questions, I realized it wasn’t for me.”

Finally, Jaebeom looked up at you and gave you a shy smile. You took in his facial features which at first had seemed sharp and cruel, but his nervous and almost bashful behavior in front of you made you see how gentle he truly was. His eyes looked into yours sadly, as if he waited for you to make fun of him.

“You know… It’s not that often that I have a stalker. I really have to make the most of this.”

He groaned, “I wasn’t stalking!”

“Sound familiar?”

“Okay maybe I was a little.”

You smiled, “how far did you get on my Instagram?”

His eyes widened and he raised his voice, “yah! I’m not that much of a creep!” You raised your eyebrows at him and he gave in, simply muttering, “your senior prom, 2015. Your friend was your date.” He avoided all eye contact once again and you had to stop yourself at giggling at how cute he was.

You straightened your posture as you channeled your utmost confidence, “Verve is my favorite coffeeshop.”

Jaebeom looks at you confused, “what?”

“It’s my favorite coffeeshop and I may or may not be there after you get off your shift,” you shrugged and took a step towards him, “isn’t that something stalkers want to know?”

He smiled, looking into your eyes and took a step forward as well, “I guess it is.”

Your closeness to Jaebeom was interrupted by the ring of the front door’s bell, signaling the arrival of someone in the shelter. Both of you took a step back.

“I know I said I couldn’t come in today and that’s why I begged you to cover me but I had to come back because I left my metro card when I locked up last night.”

Both you and Jaebeom turned to the front to see Mark quickly rushing in, immediately darting behind the front desk in search of his metro card, paying no mind to you.

“Ah! Found it! I knew it was here. You know how annoying it is to just walk everywhere? It’s like- If I’m paying monthly for this thing, might as well use it and not forget it at wor-” In the midst of his rant, Mark paused when he noticed you and Jaebeom together.

Mark blushed embarrassedly, “sorry I didn’t realize you were with a customer Jae.”

Jaebeom looked from Mark to you and wondered if you would forget all about him and simply return to having Mark be the object of your affection. “Yeah man, I was just trying to help her-”

You cut Jaebeom off, “actually I’m not a customer.”

Jaebeom looked at you confused and Mark spoke up, just as perplexed, “oh?”

“I come in here all the time and pass by every single day on my way home from school.”

Mark looked at you as though you were crazy, “and why is that?” Smiling you answered him, “because I have a crush on someone who works here.”

“No way! Who? Jinyoung? Yugyeom? I bet it’s Jackson…” he paused and took a step back to look at you, “you look like a Jackson girl.”

You moved closer to Jaebeom and softly grabbed his hand. He looked at you in shock as if he couldn’t believe that you’d choose him over Mark. “Nope not them.”

Mark looked at your hand in Jaebeom’s and his eyes widened, “what! Jae? Wow… That’s actually really cute,” he pouted for a moment, “I wish someone would come in to see me everyday. Hana would never do that for me. You’re lucky Jaebeom. Hold on to this one!”

You felt Jaebeom stroke his thumb against the top of your hand, he smiled.

“Oh trust me, I will.”

#got7 #got7 fic #got7 fanfic #got7 au #im jaebeom

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iamnotoriginalphil · 5 years ago

Text

Lessons in Love (Bucky x Reader) - Part 10

Synopsis: Bucky goes missing for a week and you’re required to call in reinforcements.

Words: 1615

Warnings: swearing, almost smut, dub-con, alcohol abuse

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

You waved to the man locking his door as you walked up the hall. The plastic bag dangling from your hand was sending delicious smells wafting around you and you were already salivating. The man gave you a curt nod and pushed into what you assumed was his own apartment.

You stood outside the dark door and readjusted you’re hold on the bag. You raised your fist and knocked.

You shifted your weight from foot to foot as you waited for something to happen. You couldn’t be sure someone was inside but you had no reason to assume there wouldn’t be. You had good reason to think someone was.

The door was flung open, a tall man in the doorway. His dark hair was hanging in his face, his expression thunderous. You held out the bag between the two of you, an offering for interrupting. He looked down at it, then back up at you. Bucky stepped aside, letting you into his apartment.

You knelt beside the coffee table, pulling the boxes out of the bag. You opened them, checking the contents even though you knew what you’d ordered. You grabbed one of the pair of chopsticks, handing the other to Bucky as he sunk down on the sofa.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked so I guessed,” you said, “even if you hate it I expect you to finish all of it.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because alcohol doesn’t count as a meal,” you replied, tucking in to one of the boxes of take out Chinese.

He picked up one of the boxes, looking inside it. You paused, watching as he put some food into his mouth. You nodded, and started eating again.

While you ate your way through the food you looked around his apartment. Empty bottles were lying around, a few collected in the kitchen in some semblance of cleaning up. Paper was scattered over the table, the floor, the chairs. Some of the pages were ripped, others covered in scribbles, some crumpled up.

You let your eyes wander over the man sitting across from you. He was unshaven, unwashed, bleary eyed and rumpled. You settled, noticing the silver picture frame sitting on the table between the two of you. It had obviously been hit, lying face up on the table. The glass was cracked, splintering over the picture of Bucky and Steve. You sighed.

“You’ve been missing for a week,” you said, trying to keep it light.

“Sick,” he grunted, forcing more food into his mouth.

“Bullshit,” you replied, “hangovers don’t count.”

He grunted again but didn’t reply. You kept an eye on him until he finished eating the entirety of the food you’d given him. You cleared the food away, checking for food in the apartment. The fridge and the cupboards were mostly empty.

“You need to go shopping,” you called over your shoulder.

You filled a glass with water, chugging it down. You started, feeling hot breath fan over the back of your neck. You shivered, turning to lean back against the sink. He was looking down at you, a wild glint in his eye as he trapped you within his arms.

“Did you miss me, darling?” he asked. You could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“I was worried about you,” you replied.

“I think you just wanted my cock in you,” he said, “missed me fucking you until you can’t walk straight.”

You pushed him back, stepping around him. He followed you back into the living room, his breathing heavy as he tried to reach out to you. You kept batting his hands away from you, the stale stench of sweat thick in your nose. You turned, putting your hands on your hips.

“I’m not getting near you until you have a shower,” you said.

“Will you be joining me?” he asked.

“No.”

He pouted, reaching out towards you again. You batted the hands away and pointed to the bathroom. He clenched his jaw, losing any kind of playfulness from his expression.

“I don’t think you understand how this works,” he said.

“I don’t think you understand how serious I am,” you replied.

You glared at him until he turned away from you, stalking into the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him and you were thankful to hear the shower start up.

You walked into his bedroom, snatching his phone up from the bedside table. You unlocked it, and scrolled through the contacts. You clicked on one, holding the phone up to your ear. You shuffled into the living room to avoid Bucky overhearing you.

“Where the fuck have you been?” the voice on the other end of the phone greeted.

“Sam?” you asked, pitching your voice low to stop Bucky from hearing you.

“You’re not the dipshit” Sam said.

“No, we met, kind of, a little while ago. At Bucky’s,” you said.

“You’re the girl,” he said.

“I’m a girl,” you replied, “but yes.”

“Why are you calling me, girl?” he asked.

“I’m worried about Bucky, but I’m definitely not the right person to be dealing with it,” you replied, “can you come look after him?”

“Why should I?” he asked.

“He’s your friend and it’s an emergency,” you said.

You listened to him consider it, his silence loud in your ears.

“He wouldn’t let me in when I dropped by yesterday,” he said.

“I’ll let you in,” you replied, “but you know him better than I do and I can’t help him.”

The silence was deafening.

“Please.”

“Fine, fine, but I want you to know I’m not his fucking babysitter. I won’t bail him out every time he fucks up,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said.

“You both owe me.”

With that he hung up on you. You looked down at the screen, the first ray of hope springing in your chest. Sam would know how to help, would know what was causing this better than you did. You put the phone back, hoping Bucky wouldn’t kill you for what you’d done.

You heard the shower switch off and hurried back into the living room. You sunk down onto the sofa, pulling your own phone out to send off a text to Mel. You flicked over to facebook, not wanting Bucky to see what you were sending to your friend. You didn’t need him to know you weren’t staying long.

“Happy now?”

You looked over your shoulder to find Bucky standing in the doorway, a towel slung low on his hips. His hair was dripping onto his shoulders, the water droplets running down his body. You gave him a smile, patting the seat next to you.

He sauntered over, the towel continually threatening to fall from his body. He perched on the leather cushion, turning his body towards yours. You pushed his hair out of his face, looking at his eyes. They were clearer, and they did not look happy.

“You do not control me,” he said.

“And you don’t control me,” you replied.

“Don’t I?”

He pressed forward, pushing you backwards. He hovered over your body, one handing pinning both of yours above your head. He pressed his lips to the underside of your jaw, his teeth scraping against your skin. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your heels digging into his ass. He chuckled low in his throat as you let out a breathy whine.

“Tell me what you want, darling,” he requested.

You pressed your hot core against the growing bulge under his towel. He tutted, pushing your hips down onto the sofa with his remaining free hand.

“With your words, darling,” he said.

“Get. Off. Me,” you ground out.

He chuckled again, swooping into kiss you. His hand dragged up your body, cupping one of your breasts and you arched into his touch. His tongue invaded your mouth, filling your body with heat. You moaned.

“I don’t think you really want that, darling,” he said, pulling away from you.

“Fuck off,” you said.

He ran his thumb over your nipple, it beginning to pebble under his touch. You moaned, burying your face in the arm of the sofa, trying to avoid his hot kisses. It was too easy to get lost in him. You needed to keep your wits about you but keep him distracted enough that you’d have time to answer the door first. He held you pinned down, his thumb tortuously slow as it dragged over your nipple. You felt jolts being sent down to your core, a throbbing begin between your legs.

“Is that really what you want, darling?” he asked, “do you want me to stop?”

A loud banging on the door startled you enough to dislodge Bucky from your body. His head whipped up, turning towards the door. You blinked a couple of times as the knock sounded again. You pushed yourself up into a sitting position, noticing Bucky beginning to get up.

You shot to your feet, pushing past Bucky to head towards the door. You pulled the door open, letting out a relieved breath when you saw the familiar figure of Sam.

“You owe me,” he said, pushing into the room.

“Get the fuck out,’ Bucky said when he caught sight of who had just entered.

“I’m going to go,” you said, jerking your thumb over your shoulder.

You scrabbled as you picked up your things. You avoided Bucky’s eye as Sam made himself comfortable. He caught your wrist before you could leave.

“This is not over,” he growled.

You gave him a curt nod and hurried from the room. You hoped next time you saw him he wouldn’t be drunk. You hoped Sam would help. You hoped he wouldn’t completely destroy himself.

Tags: @libellule2001 @sebs-daybreak

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes imagine #lessons in love

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hermannsthumb · 5 years ago

Note

ok trying this again lol hopefully tumblr doesn't eat my message but i saw where you reblogged that halloween prompts last night and wanted to request "strangers who hooked up at a party while in costume but tbh i might be in love with you so i’m gonna walk this earth looking for the right woodland nymph" for newmann. the thought of hermann dressed as a woodland nymph is CUTE!! thank you, maria

from list of halloween prompts here

HEHE this one took me a while bc i’ve been slammed with a cold the past few days thats made me want to do nothing but like. lie in bed. HERE YOU GO ENJOY

———————————————

“Sexy fairy, huh?” Newt says.

The dude leaning against the wall lowers his drink and frowns. “Pardon?”

“Shit,” Newt says. “Hang on. Sorry.” He pulls out his plastic fangs and works his jaw a few times, then settles right back into his most charming smile. “I said sexy fairy, huh?”

“Oh,” the dude says. He looks down at himself–the illfitting white tunic, the tacky fake vines glued to it, his sandals (socks with sandals, actually, wow)–and gives a self-conscious tug at the equally tacky flower crown atop his head. He’s a real hottie. Big brown eyes, dark eyelashes, cheekbones–definitely Newt’s type. He’s surprised that no one else dove in to chat him up first. “I think it’s meant to be a nymph, actually. I bought it at the costume shop on the way here.”

He’s all posh and English. Newt wasn’t expecting that, but he thinks he can dig it. He leers. “So the sexy is all you, then?”

The nymph’s frown only deepens. “What do you mean?”

“I mean–” Newt sighs. “I was calling you sexy.”

“Oh,” the nymph says again. “Er. Thank you.”

They slip into uncomfortable silence. (Way to go, Newt. Struck out already.) “Are you here alone?” Newt tries again.

It’s the wrong thing to ask: the nymph makes a face and takes a long sip of his drink. (Purple, with weird foam on top, probably whatever’s sitting in the punchbowl marked Witch’s Brew.) “Yes,” he says. “I came with my date, but he–ah–”

His eyes drift to a guy in a semi-matching costume on the dance floor, who’s currently bumping up against some hunk dressed as a sexy pirate.“Ditched you?” Newt says.

The nymph makes a non-committed sound. His hand tightens around the head of his cane (which he’s also wound fake vines around–Newt appreciates the creativity). “I didn’t want to dance,” he says, and then it’s his turn to sigh. “We only met a week ago, on some moronic–dating app my sister insisted I try. I should’ve known he’d…”

That won’t do; Newt was trying to get the guy’s number, not send him spiraling into moodiness. “Hey, I’m here alone, too,” Newt says. “All alone.” He doesn’t even know the host–it’s one of Tendo’s exes, he thinks, who he may or may not have gotten sushi with one time years ago but never bothered unfriending on Facebook.

“Mm,” the nymph says. He gives Newt a long once-over. Newt wishes that he’d planned better, and worn something a little sexier than just standard vampire. (Like sexy pirate; the guy the nymph’s date latched onto instead had the right idea.) As is, he’s probably only passably sexy: his pants are tight enough, and his shirt is open enough, and he has enough glitter in his hair (because it’s fun) to light up like a fucking disco ball in the light. “I suppose you’re going to ask me for my mobile number now. Or offer to get me a drink, despite the fact that I clearly already have one.”

Newt grins goofily. “That was the plan.”

He get another long, considering stare. Then the nymph sets his drink down and clasps his free hand around Newt’s wrist. “Follow me,” he says.

“Cool,” Newt says. “Uh, are we going to the kitchen? I think it’s–”

They’re not going to the kitchen: they’re going to an empty broom closet. Newt can appreciate a forward-thinking man who knows what he wants.

“You ought to know,” the nymph gasps, tangling his fingers in Newt’s hair, “I don’t really do these sorts of things.”

“Really?” Newt says. He grins up at him, face inches from the guy’s stupid tighty-whiteys. “’Cause I do. You want me to put my fangs back in?”

“No. Ah–!”

***************************

Newt wakes up with a hangover (predictable), his phone buzzing off the side table with his alarm (annoying), and the strangest sensation that he met the love of his life last night (unexpected). The sensation is only amplified when he picks up his phone and sees that he’s, apparently, sent no less than five texts to his dad about it (his fucking dad, of all people, Newt needs some friends), but it quickly turns to dread when he sees the mess that is his poor forearm.

(“I’ve got a spot right here,” Newt slurred. After mutually-reciprocated hijinks in the closet, he and the nymph–who had told him his name at one point, Newt was sure, he just totally forgot–proceeded to get totally smashed off whatever the fuck Witch’s Brew was and then make out in the corner until Newt finally reminded him that he still wanted his phone number. The nymph was game. He was less game when Newt showed him where to write it in bold black Magic Marker one he rucked up his sleeve: his right forearm, between his jellyfish tattoo and his Godzilla tattoo, on a small patch of empty, freckled skin.

“Cute,” the nymph said, wryly.

He said it in a way that made it clear he didn’t think Newt’s tats were actually very cute. “I like them,” Newt said.

“Can’t I just–” the nymph was struggling with the marker, “–put it right in your, ah, phone?”

“This is more fun,” Newt said.”)

The number is nothing more than a smeary mess now–probably casualty to the massive rainstorm raging outside that, if Newt’s soaked pile of clothing on the floor means anything, has been raging since he stumbled home last night.

He can’t even remember the guy’s name.

SOS, he ends up texting Tendo after a healthy amount of coffee and Tylenol. hooked up with super hot guy at a party last night and have no fucking clue how to see him again and i think i might be in love. help

you’re almost forty, Tendo replies, which is no help and isn’t at all the sick burn Tendo probably thought it was.

Newt resorts to stalking Tendo’s ex’s Facebook page instead. For anything, really. There are only a few photos up from the party last night (so far, anyway), and most of them are focused on the dance floor and the guy’s friends. Newt clicks through obsessively anyway. The ornate Jack-O-Lanterns that’d been on the front porch, Tendo’s ex and some chick in zombie makeup, the punchbowl of foaming purple Witch’s Brew, and–finally, in the very back corner of a shot–Newt standing with his mystery man. Tacky crown and all. He exists, at least, not some extremely specific hallucination on Newt’s part, even though a reverse image search turns up with absolutely nothing but links to buy his costume.

He has better luck with a blurry photo of his mystery guy’s (deadbeat) date laughing in the kitchen under the bright orange string lights: Tendo’s ex actually tagged him. Probably because he wasn’t totally crashing the party after seeing a post about it like Newt was. Newt’s luck pretty much stops there; not only does the guy make no mention of the nymph Newt spent the night with when Newt stalks his page, but he hasn’t updated his status in literally six months, and none of his friends (because Newt combs through his friends list, too) look remotely like Newt’s mystery man.

So. Newt sends him a friend request.

He accepts it in the amount of time it takes Newt to take to feed his fish, heat up a tiny bowl of spaghetti-o’s, and regret sending it in the first place; he almost spills the bowl over his laptop in his hurry to send a message. Hey, weird question, but who’d you bring to that party last night?

lol why?

“I’m in love with him” is definitely a little forward, so Newt makes up a fast, and hopefully at least mildly believable, lie. He has my umbrella.

Typing for a while. tbh idrk him, we met online. his name was hermann

Then: i think hes a teacher or something

who are you anyway? comes a second later.

Hermann. Newt likes it. It also rings a very, very vague bell. cool thanks! Newt sends back, and then quickly unfriends the guy. Anyone who could possibly ditch a guy as hot and funny and, overall, perfect as Hermann (as Newt remembers him, anyway) is not worth Newt’s time.

exciting update, he texts Tendo. his name is Hermann!

Newt has a lecture to teach at six, three hours from now, so in lieu of actually preparing for it, he decides to be a creepy stalker instead. Hermann’s date said he was a teacher: none of the local public schools have a Hermann (or a Herman, for that matter) on any of their staff pages, K all the way up to Twelve, nor do the private schools. He has better luck when he pokes through staff directories for nearby universities instead: this gives him two Hermans and one Hermann, but neither of their provided pictures look remotely like Newt’s Hermann. Not even when Newt squints.

He spares another miserable glance at the smeary ink on his arm before shutting his laptop. Maybe it’s just not meant to be.

He’s walking to campus from his bus stop the following week–the day before Halloween–when the most fucking unbelievable thing in the world happens.

He sees Hermann.

Just sitting outside the campus coffee shop at a little table, sipping a paper travel mug dotted with little orange pumpkins. Reading over some notes. Newt’s sure it’s Hermann: it’s Hermann’s big brown eyes, Hermann’s long eyelashes, Hermann’s sharp cheekbones, Hermann’s cane propped against the brick wall next to him. Newt’d recognize him even with the stupid nymph costume swapped for more sensible sweatervest and tweed. “Hermann!” he shouts excitedly, waving both arms. “Dude!”

Hermann looks up. He drops his coffee.

He’s completely speechless when Newt finally manages to book it across the street (dodging traffic, including the bus he came in on) and collapse, panting, into the empty seat across from him. “I can’t believe it’s you!” Newt says. “Holy shit, dude! I’ve been trying like crazy to track you down. I lost your number, so I had to message your shitty boyfriend–”

“Not my boyfriend,” Hermann says, faintly.

“Right, your shitty date,” Newt corrects. “You look so good. I almost didn’t recognize you without all the leaves. I’m so glad I found you. What are you doing here, anyway?”

Hermann blinks a few times. Registering it all. “I work–” He says, and gestures to the stairs that lead up to the main part of campus. “Er, here. Physics. I teach physics.”

That explains why Newt couldn’t find him on any faculty pages–he just assumed that Hermann couldn’t possibly be working at the same university as him and didn’t bother checking. He though he would’ve remembered seeing a face like that around. Physics, though, makes sense–it’s not like they’d be in the same building. “I do too!” Newt says. He leans in, beaming away. “Well, not physics, biology. I can’t remember if I told you my name or not. It’s Newt. Dr. Geiszler, if you wanna be serious, but I’m pretty sure we’re way beyond that at this point.”

“Ah,” Hermann says. “No, you didn’t say your name.” He blinks a few more times before finally seeming to get over his shock, and it’s replaced with mild amusement instead. A small smile. “You’re a doctor?”

“Are you that shocked?”

“You’re not very–” Hermann does a very bad job of disguising his laugh as a cough. “Professional. You know–at the, ah, party, you really should’ve just let me–”

“I know,” Newt says, and Hermann’s smile grows.

“Writing it on your arm was a terrible idea,” Hermann says. “I was horribly offended, you know, when you didn’t call the next day.”

Newt fishes his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it, and offers it out to Hermann with a grin. “Looks like I won’t be making the same mistake twice, then.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #meet cute!#newts-geiszler

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bookworlders · 6 years ago

Note

are you ever going to finish of corporate scandals?

yes! one day! but not today lol here’s a new percabeth au instead! it’s based off the movie The Wedding Date.

Annabeth’s old camp buddies, Piper and Jason are getting married and the whole gang is reuniting for the celebration. Luke is her ex who broke her heart, and she refuses to show up alone to their wedding so she takes her roommate’s advice. She hires a fake boyfriend.

part 1

Annabeth checked and rechecked the tickets in her hand. The 5:15PM Long Island Rail Road from Penn Station to Montauk. Platform 7. She had that info submitted to memory from the moment she bought the tickets. Her phone buzzed. Her hand flew to her jacket pocket. A boarding notification. She exhaled, glad it wasn’t the “Hey, this plan is crazy and so are you, I’m out!” text she had been expecting.

“Annabeth?”

She whirled around, dragging her suitcase along with her. Oh gods, he was taller than she remembered. And much more handsome. “Hi.”

“Sorry I’m late, babe.” grabbed her waist and kissed her.

“Honey, I’m home!” Rachel yelled, kicking off her red rainboots and dumping her keys on the dining table. Annabeth waved at her from the couch, motioning to her phone.

“Who is it?” Rachel asked, already stalking across their apartment to the kitchen to rummage for food.

“Piper,” Annabeth mouthed. She covered the receiver, “Rach, if you’re looking for the leftovers from yesterday, they’re long gone.”

“You bitch.” She swung open the refrigerator.

“What—No, of course I’m paying attention, Pipes—Yeah, got it, dress rehearsal is at seven, pictures on Sunday at ten.”

“Bridezilla come out yet?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. Piper was the most laid-back bride in the world. She covered the receiver again, “More like Groomzilla.” Rachel laughed, as Piper continued to rattle off the list of appointments Jason had asked her to pass along to Annabeth. “Listen, Pipes, I have to go. Facetime me during your fitting tomorrow. Love you. See you soon. Bye.”

Annabeth tossed her phone on the coffee table before walking into their tiny, Manhattan-sized kitchen to join her roommate. “How was rehearsal?” Annabeth asked, leaning against the counter as Rachel scarfed down leftovers she managed to dig out of their fridge.

“Terrible. How was your day?”

“Also terrible.”

“Why? Remote wedding planning not working out?”

“No, the wedding is going to be perfect. I’m an awesome bridesmaid even though I’m across the country from them. It’s just, you know, certain people…”

“Luke.”

“Yes, Luke. He’s going to be a groomsman now.”

“Oof.”

“So now I won’t just have to bear seeing him at the wedding. He’s going to be there all weekend for all the wedding prep.”

“I’m sure Piper and Jason will know not to put you in a situation where make you have to interact.”

“Still! I haven’t seen him since he, you know. And this is the first time I’m going to see so many of our friends again since the breakup. There’s no way he’s not bringing a date. I can’t show my face! My pathetic, single face.”

“Then you bring a date! Show up with some hot arm candy and show him.”

“The wedding is next week! Where am I going to find a date?”

“Doesn’t matter as long as he’s hot.”

“Also, if I do somehow meet someone in the next week, I can’t bring them to a wedding. Wedding’s are not first date material. Wedding’s say, meet my parents, I want commitment! And we all know how guys feel about fucking commitment,” Annabeth spat out, “No guy would go to wedding as a first date.”

“He would if you paid him,” Rachel scoffed, “Or slept with him.”

Annabeth smacked her arm, “Stop joking! You know what, I’m tired of talking about this, it’s stressing me out.” Annabeth wrenched open the freezer and grabbed her emergency pint of half-baked Ben & Jerry’s. “How was rehearsal?”

“Lousy. I still can’t believe you’re going to miss my show.”

“I’m coming to opening night!”

“Yeah, but it’s an off-off-Broadway production of Romeo & Juliet I needed you to come every night to fill the house so at least we know for sure we’ll have an audience.”

“You won’t need me. Shakespeare always draw a crowd.”

“This is going to be the worst show I’ve directed ever. Grover got poison ivy, poison oak, and poison fern believe it or not, so I had to find an understudy last minute. I specifically told him not to hook up with his girlfriend in Central Park.”

“I’m sure it will be great.”

“Let’s just hope Juliet doesn’t get poison fern.”

Annabeth was the only one in a crowd of about seventeen who gave the cast a standing ovation, but she didn’t care. In this basement theater of a rec center in Washington Heights, seventeen was basically a full house.

“Great job!” Annabeth said, hugging her roommate and thrusting a bouquet of sunflowers, Rachel’s favorite, into her arms. She and a couple of the actors’ friends and family members had been invited to the ‘cast party’ after the show — aka pizza and soda in another room of the rec center.

“Thanks, Annabeth. You really liked it?” Rachel said, beaming as various crew members patted her on the back as they went to grab pizza.

“Yes! The decision to set the play in a post-apocalyptic, Game of Thrones¬¬-y Verona was so cool. And the actors were phenomenal. Even when that magician walked right onto the stage. The way they improvised—”

“It’s because it’s happened before! People also book birthday parties here and they get the rooms confused! During our tech rehearsal, a clown walked in!”

“Well, your show was amazing. I’m so proud,” Annabeth said, sincerely. “Your cast was great.” Over Rachel’s shoulder she spotted the actor who played Romeo talking with brown-haired woman and man with glasses and salt and pepper hair. “Especially Romeo.”

Rachel beamed, glancing over her shoulder at him, “I know right! Wasn’t he amazing? He’s the understudy!”

“No way,” Annabeth said. His performance had been captivating to say the least. His monologues as Romeo were enough to make Annabeth swoon.

“His name’s Percy,” Rachel lowered her voice, “I love Grover, but I’m almost bummed his poison ivy rash is almost cleared up.”

“How did you find him?”

“Our theater major alumni Facebook group. He’s a friend of Grover’s.”

“And he willingly memorized a lead part’s lines in a Shakespearean play in less than a week?” Annabeth asked, incredulous.

“You know actors, Annabeth, they’ll do anything for a gig. Especially a paid one.” Rachel said, “I have to go talk to my stage manager, go get pizza!”

Annabeth walked over to the table spread with food. Pizza, chips, various dips, soda, utensils and blue cookies? As Annabeth filled a red solo cup with lemonade, her eye wandered back to Romeo. The couple, his parents she assumed, had left, and he was now chatting with the actress who played Juliet.

He was so handsome. Actors always were. Tall, dark-haired, green-eyed. Dreamy. He definitely would still be taller than her in the stilettos the bridesmaids were wearing. If only she could roll up to the wedding with someone like him on her arm…

Annabeth shoved him away, “What are you doing?”

Percy looked at her, confused, “Um? I’m your…boyfriend?”

“We don’t have to start now. Not until we get to the wedding.” Annabeth straightened her blazer. She thrusted his ticket into his hands, and extended the handles of her rolling suitcase, “Come on, they’ve already started boarding.”

Percy followed her, smoothly taking her suitcase from her and loading it up the steps of the train for her. She shot him a look.

Percy lowered his voice, following her through the aisle of the train car, “Any of the other wedding guests could be on this same train, we don’t want to ruin this before it even starts.” Annabeth chose two seats at the back of the train car. She slid into the window seat. Percy lifted her suitcase and his oversized duffle bag into the overhead compartment with ease.

“It’s Thursday and the wedding isn’t until Sunday. The only people heading up there now are in the wedding party, mostly out-of-towners, and they all flew in this morning,” Annabeth said, curtly. She tried to remain cool even though she was feeling so flustered by him. She could barely even look him in the eye. She felt so embarrassed even though this was her damn idea.

“You look very nice.”

Annabeth flushed. “Thank you,” she muttered. Her hair was frizzy after commuting in the midsummer humidity straight from her office building to Penn Station, but she knew she looked good today. She smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her cream pencil skirt.

His hair was messier and curlier than it was the night of the play, contrary to his Romeo’s gelled down locks. He looked so relaxed and cool in a button down with the sleeves rolled up and navy shorts.

“Okay,” Percy said, shifting towards her as the other passengers began to fill up the remaining seats. “Debrief me. What’s my job? Where am I from? How did we meet?”

Annabeth stared at him. “You’re Percy, an actor from New York. We met at my roommate’s show.” Duh?

“Come on, no cool backstory for me to try method acting?”

“No, the most convincing lies are closest to the truth,” Annabeth replied, “And I need this to be convincing.”

“I want a challenge.”

“Isn’t pretending to be my boyfriend enough of a challenge?”

Percy grinned, “Shouldn’t be that hard.”

Annabeth flushed again, “Then why exactly am I paying you $2,000?”

“Like you said, I’m convincing,”

“Please have your tickets out. Next stop is Babylon.”

Annabeth looked out her window as the platform fell away into the darkness of the tunnels. The train gained speed and made its way out of Manhattan.

When Annabeth awoke, the LIRR train was no longer underground, but racing through the tracks of Long Island. The train ride to Montauk was three hours long so the last rays of sun had just disappeared.

Annabeth glanced over at Percy, also was dozing away, head tilted back and mouth fully open. He really was so attractive. Tan, chiseled face with a jaw some women would murder for, but he still had a boyish softness to his expression, especially when he slept.

“Next stop, Montauk.”

Annabeth nudged him. Percy blinked groggily and cracked a goofy grin when he saw her looking at him.

“You drool in your sleep.”

#lol sorry this isnt ocs #percabeth fake dating!au #bookworldersanon #the wedding date #mywriting #percabeth #percy jackson #percabeth au #fanfiction

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