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neutron-stars-collision · 1 year

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Waiting for the Night

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Chapter 19 - You'll be the promise, I'll be the scream

Masterlist; Chapter 18 Summary: The aftermath of Riddler's words. You're forced to face the fears and talk to Bruce. Neither of those is an easy feat... Warnings: 18+; tones of angst, R's internal crisis and... them smuts ✨ Author's Notes: Woo, she made it! Incredible! Outstanding achievement. Seriously, though, I know it's been a while. To compensate - this one is long. Like 10.7k long. And it's also explicit bc them idiots needed tension release of the traditional kind :))))) It's probably only one chapter and epilogue left now so... getting emotional. A little bit. But we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now... buckle up, 'kay? You're gonna needed. (I know they're idiots). Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Tag list: Tag list: @thecraziestcrayon, @kookiewastolen, @imimsy, @tuskens-mando, @sugarcoated-lame, @blue-aconite, @hypnoash, @rabbitdictionary, @nicklet94, @mcrmarvelloki, @shimmeringgrim, @ttae-yong, @freyadruid, @siriuslydestiny, @ms-dont-care, @raphaelaisabella, @itsmytimetoodream, @brightjimini, @castellandiangelo, @grunge-n-roses5 (let me know if you wanted to be removed/added).

(gif credit: @makoto-shinkai)

Returning to the Wayne Tower from Arkham felt like a fevered dream. You could barely remember how you got there from the street by your house where you had directed Gordon to drop you off. Only that no matter the distance from the prison, your heart did not get any lighter.

Riddler’s words still rang out loud and clear in your head, slowly driving you crazy. The tower was blessedly quiet and empty when you reached the study and collapsed into the armchair. One look at the phone screen and a quick read of the only text that awaited you confirmed the expected – Bruce was already out and would be back later. Probably much later. Which was good. The last thing you wanted was to be confronted by someone you could not lie to. All hopes shattered when Dory walked into the room not a quarter of an hour later.

It was easy to pretend then, quickly falling back into the role you knew well. You smiled when appropriate, forced down a meal that could not be contested and produced a lie that worked in your favour. Dory had no clue. It did not matter that your heart was breaking beneath the performance. You were stellar, as always.

It was a relief to have her retire to her room not long after you finished eating. You were finally alone. It was a no-brainer to turn down all the unnecessary lights and carry your stuff to your bedroom, closing the door behind your back. You got as far as sitting down at the foot of the bed when your brain caught up. The memories came rushing in, Riddler’s voice as clear as in that cell, taunting you just like he did. What if he was right? What if your father was a monster, and you were following in his footsteps? There were no answers. Frantic brain kept running through all the pieces you had ever written, quickly finding those Nashton could have meant. The times when you were relentless, pushed too far. The times when you should have stopped. The solution was simple – he was right.

The steady stream of tears rushed down your cheeks, smudging the mascara you had recklessly put on in the morning as you lied down on the covers and curled up. The weight on your chest was not going anywhere, making it hard to breathe. Near impossible to leave the spiral once you got absorbed in it. An endless onslaught of self-hatred poured out along with the quiet sobs that wrecked your frame. Each thought felt like your heart being ripped out, piece by piece. The smithereens bled onto the duvet as your mind circled back, time and time again, to that one idea.

The worst one of them all. The fear that you would hurt Bruce. That it was all you were capable of doing, destroying what you held dear. Perhaps it had already happened; the guillotine was let loose. About to slash your neck, once and for all. Maybe it would’ve been for the best.

After a while, the tears had dried out, the parched throat begging for a glass of water. But you did not want to move. Did not seem to have the strength to do so. Slowly, you raised your head enough to see the inky skies outside, for once free from rain clouds. The moon peered shyly into the room, painting the floor silver. The thoughts were still there. The pain had not left.

You were almost close to dozing off from exhaustion when faint creaks of the floorboards in the corridor outside made you open your eyes. Someone stopped right by your door, hesitating. Somehow, you knew who it was before they decided and pressed the handle. For a split second, you mourned that you had left the door unlocked. Then Bruce stepped inside, and all you could do was close your eyes against the sudden pinprick of pain in your chest. The silence was deafening. Almost enough to make you speak and answer the thousands of questions he seemed to have. You never got quite that far.

As if reading your mind, Bruce closed the door behind his back and slowly approached the bed. His body was tense, uncertainty visible in every move. You could only imagine what he saw when he came closer. You did not dare to move, passively staring at his approaching form until Bruce stopped two feet away from the bed and raised his head. Enough so you could see his expression. The haunting blue eyes were now flooded with concern and fear. Before you could dwell on what you saw, Bruce spoke:

“What happened?” his husky tone dripped with worry, making you wince from the sound alone.

But you did not feel like giving in to him just yet.

“You could’ve knocked, you know” aware of the tear tracks tainted with ink from the mascara on your cheeks, you did your best to glower at him.

Judging by the defeated look you got back, it was a futile attempt. Bruce took another step closer, visibly pondering whether he should sit next to your slumped form.

“Come on, don’t give me that. What happened?” his tone softened a notch, enough to make your heart pick up its pace.

And to make you sit up, silently offering space should he want it. Training your mind on the floor, you whispered:

“I met him” you could hear the unspoken question in the heavy silence, forcing you to add, quieter still, “Riddler,”

Bruce gasped as if he had been hit in the stomach.

“What? Why?” the disbelief in his voice made you look up.

Seeing the horror on his face as if he could not believe what he was hearing. It was enough to make shame bloom in the pit of your stomach, yet again making you wish you could disappear. But there was no divine intervention. No opening pit in the ground or a merciful hand to end it for you. As if subconsciously wanting to make the pain worse, you forced yourself to look him in the eye as you spoke:

“Because I wanted to. I was curious, so I asked Gordon to take me to him after the witness statement” as soon as the words were out, you could feel the tears welling up.

Because hearing it said like that spoke volumes about your idiocy. How it all could have been avoided if not for your lack of logic. It was not surprising to hear Bruce groan in response,

“Jesus Christ,” a muttered curse dropped from his lips as he covered his face with his hands for a beat, then raised it to fix you with a glare, “Why did you-”

Somehow you knew what was coming. And that you would not survive it if Bruce scolded you, pointing out all the ways you had fucked up and the reasons why you could never be enough. For him or anybody else. So, you interjected his incoming rant with the wavering voice:

“Please, don’t. I know it was stupid, and it definitely taught me a lesson” it was impossible to hide the pain from your tone, keen on getting the message, “So if you’re going to berate me, I’d rather you left” what was supposed to be a stern warning, never got that far.

Instead, the condition sounded weak, like a thinly veiled plea for mercy. And it was not wrong. To your immense surprise, it worked. Bruce visibly winced as his words seemed to catch up with him.

“God, no. I’m sorry” seeing immediate contrition felt good enough for you to nod your head in agreement to his silent question, allowing Bruce to sit down and finish the thought, “I just… What did he say to you?” he kept his distance yet the softness in his voice felt like a reassuring hand-squeeze.

You glanced at him, hoping to convey the gratitude. But even that was not enough to make you eager to tell the tale.

“Many, many things” a choice for the moment was a tentative opening.

A quick attempt at dodging the question if Bruce allowed you.

“I’ve got time,” he didn’t; leaning back a fraction to appear at ease.

To highlight that he wanted to hear it, that he had nothing else to do but listen to your sob story of naivety and stupid decisions. From the look in his eyes, you could tell you had no other choice. Letting out a sigh as a preamble, you shifted your gaze back onto the floor. You could already feel the familiar burn of tears.

“Um… in a nutshell, my father was a monster directly responsible for what happened to your mother. I’m exactly the same, devoted to the job so much that nothing else matters” you heard Bruce’s sharp breath intake but did not grant yourself the right to look at him, “He asked when am I going to destroy you and finish what my father started” the wobbling voice cracked as new tears streamed down your cheeks again, ever so eager to make an appearance; they forced out the most vulnerable of confessions you could give him then “The worst part is that I think he’s right” there it is, as always.

Without giving you time to dissolve into sobs that choked up your throat, Bruce moved, his careful fingers lifting your chin so he could lock his eyes with yours. There was no escape from his knowing stare as he delicately swept his thumb over your tear-streaked cheeks before dipping lower to trace your cupid’s bow. Unable to hold his tender gaze, you closed your eyes.

“He’s not,” the gentle whisper was filled with conviction.

But it was not enough to convince you. Not quite enough to stop the vicious thoughts.

“But-” your protest got silenced before you could get a word out.

As if knowing what you needed, Bruce leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead before squeezing your hand with his unoccupied palm. Reluctantly you opened your eyes, realising the intended effect. He had your full attention.

“Listen to me. The point of that conversation was to rile you up. To make you believe those things and go insane because of them,” his firm tone captured your mind, as did the heat in his eyes, betraying the anger Bruce felt on your behalf, “He loved every second because this is what he does. He gets under your skin, feeds on guilt and insecurities and amplifies them” tangling his fingers with yours in what felt like second nature, Bruce allowed the passion give way to fondness, strengthening the message “But the main point is that it was all bullshit” on its own accord, your mouth twisted into a weak smile, triggered by something as unusual as hearing him curse “Nothing else” he finished the speech with another hand squeeze as he raised your joined hands to his mouth and kissed your knuckles.

The gesture, along with everything he said, made your head spin. The logical part of your brain knew Bruce was right. But it was a small fraction of an overall emotional consciousness, which would not be settled quite so easily. You hoped that perhaps the longer you stared into his eyes, the more convinced you would become.

Leaning into his palm that still cupped your cheek, you whispered a question:

“How can you be so sure?” one that you were scared to ask but still needed to know.

To understand what it was that Bruce saw, that you were blind to. Why he trusted you when he should not?

“Because I know you,” his confidence did not waver as he offered the response without hesitancy, “I know that you care about everyone around you, that you would do anything for those you hold dear. And that, above all, you’re a good person” Bruce concluded his speech with another kiss on your forehead, a rare sure smile hiding in the corners of his lips.

At once, the vicious voices in your head grew silent, emptying the space of all that was not affection and gratitude. Even if just for a moment. The prickling tears were not going anywhere as you closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of Bruce’s hand clasping yours. For the first time during that long day, you felt the stifling weight lift off your chest.

“Shit, you’re going to make me cry, sweetheart” cracking a weak joke, you risked a glance at his reaction following the nickname.

Bruce grinned, no longer pretending to mask the fondness with an eye roll. Even with the haze of tiredness quickly descending over your head, you greatly appreciated the change. Enough so to creep a little closer still and lean your head on his shoulder, covertly inhaling the familiar scent of laundry detergent, expensive cologne and dampness of the terminus. A strange concoction that already felt like home, although you would never admit it.

“I mean it, though” Bruce gently rested his head on top of yours, cementing the sentiment and leaving another rush of warmth burning in your chest.

It was hard to fill the silence with anything else. Save maybe for the things you couldn’t say. After a beat, you found the safest question and gave it a voice:

“How- Um… How was your day?” the pathetic quiver shook your vocal cords.

Before you could give yourself a moment to marinate in shame while listening to his answer, Bruce carefully extracted himself from your embrace and stood up. Upon your questioning look, he murmured:

“One sec” already moving towards the ensuite, he kept speaking, “Selina asked to meet up with me, so I went to see her… She’s left the city, actually” you stared as Bruce entered the room a few seconds later, clutching a bottle of micellar water and cotton pads.

It took another three seconds for his words to sink in and for you to understand them. What it meant and how it made you feel. Strange. Conflicted. Fucking confused, among others. The attempts at words got stuck in your throat when Bruce sat next to you on the duvet and wordlessly prepared the make-up remover, waiting for you to tip your chin forward. Your body moved before you told it to, closing the gap yet again. He did not hesitate before leaning in to begin wiping off the mess from your face with a look of pure concentration.

It felt strange to be under his scrutiny, mindful of all the different issues you could catalogue on your face. Of all the ways Bruce could find you lacking. Not enough compared with someone like her.

“Oh… okay,” remembering that it was your turn to speak, you blurted out the only question you desperately needed to be answered, “You didn’t want to go with her?”

There. Your heart lying in his open palm, ready to be crushed. Not for the first time since you had met.

Bruce took his time, meticulously wiping off the smudged mascara from underneath your eyes, his gaze never straying from your face. You did not dare think about what he must have seen there.

“No, of course not” cutting through the uncertainty, Bruce offered a reply that gave no room for interpretation, at once meeting your worried look with a ready explanation, “I spent too much time fighting for Gotham just to leave it on a whim” he swallowed hard as if finally caught by the doubts, clearly debating whether what he wanted to say next should be spoken; then, he made up his mind “Plus, it was never like that between us” the meaningful look was impossible to miss, as was the unspoken implication of what he meant; the combination was enough to fortify the blush on your cheeks “She’s glad you’re fine after what happened. And that you’re staying too,”

The final comment was another surprise, spiking your heart rate to a faster beat. Because it suggested one thing you did not consider – Bruce talked with Selina about you. That you were important enough to be a conversation topic. Selina took her time to think about what she witnessed.

And that Bruce wasn’t going to leave. You still had time, for better or worse. Using the tidbit of information as your needed courage inspiration, you reached your hand to his, curling your fingers around his wrist. Just to keep him close.

“Are you? Happy I’m staying?” the thin band of skin-to-skin contact offered the push you needed to ask what you wanted.

The second most important matter after Bruce staying in Gotham.

Bruce used the final clean cotton wipe to erase the dried-up coats of foundation from the bridge of your nose and lowered his hands, freeing your face. His blue eyes stayed right where they were, sometimes meeting yours, at other times fixed on your mouth. Enough so to wreak havoc in your head and heart. At last, Bruce’s lips quirked into a small smile, his other hand coming down to cover yours, still encircling his wrist. The light pressure of his touch was enough to ground you, making the wait for his answer seem bearable.

“More than I know how to express” even with the anticipation, his reply took you by surprise, making you gasp as you were suddenly too bashful to look him in the eye; and for a good reason, “The meeting with Selina made me think about some things and…” you glanced up, the breath caught in your throat as you watched Bruce ponder something again; it was impossible to tell where it was leading “Before you, I was never brave enough to want. The feeling was there, the desires and the needs, but I never gave in to them. Slowly, I learnt how to repress it and shove it so far down that I almost thought I’m resistant” oh; your head flew back up fast enough to make your spine crack, head unable to comprehend the meaning without getting overwhelmed, only to find Bruce staring right back; his blue eyes sure and firm in their unwavering belief “Then you happened” oh.

The confession felt important. Crucial in its significance, like nothing else before it. Tangible like the pressure of his hand over yours and the heat of his body across the narrow space. Terrifying like the depths of feelings in your heart and head. You did not know what made him say it. Caught speechless by the admission, you could only whisper:

“Sorry,” shyly biting into your lower lip until Bruce tugged it free.

Your tender skin was burning from his touch. Thousand more apologies for turning his life on its head died on your tongue as you felt the familiar tension rise. Suddenly it was hard to find reasons why you should not close that gap. Why you should not keep touching him, giving whatever he wanted from you. The resolution was waiting in the wings for you to take the plunge whenever you were ready.

“I never said it’s a bad thing” Bruce’s smile only brightened as he brushed away your foolish apology while his fingers drifted downwards to trail over the skin of your neck, “Just that sometimes it’s difficult to stop myself from reaching for what I want” there was an implication in his voice, a pointer towards what he was too scared to say.

Perhaps the heat of his touch sparking the fire in your veins made you decide. Reach for the opening he created and take what he was offering. It was not difficult to breach the gap and take hold of his hand to drag it down, pressing his palm to your chest, right over the heart. Taking pleasure in the hungry look in his eyes, you leaned in close to whisper:

“You don’t have to stop” keeping your gaze locked onto his mouth, you added, “Not with me” then, with the both of you suspended millimetres away from the kiss that you could already feel, you posed the question, “What do you want, Bruce?”

Hoping he would get the message that whatever was about to happen had to be his request. Only then could you let go of the uncertainty and fear ruling your head. The heart was kept hostage. Bruce let out a shuddered breath, fanning your parted lips with a wisp of air. His nose nudged yours as he struggled to look you in the eye before replying:

“You” his free hand wandered down to touch your hip as Bruce leaned against you, slowly pushing you down onto the mattress, “Everything. I-”

Too scared to let him speak, you closed his mouth with a kiss, finally closing the gap. Releasing your heart from the captivity of the mind. Sealing your fate with a careful caress of your lips over his. Taking Bruce’s broken gasp and pulling him further into the embrace so that he had no choice but to surrender. Cover your body with his, enveloping your shaking bones with the warmth you have craved. That kiss was meant to be slow and direct in its meaning. You knew he understood when you broke the contact with a quiet whimper, your eyes roaming over his stunned features. The blown-out pupils and reddened lips drew your attention like magnets and made it so much easier to find the necessary words:

“You can have everything,” swallowing past the unspeakable, you met his gaze with vulnerability, “Please,” now there was nothing to hide.

He had it all, waiting for his move. The troubled blue eyes searched yours for a beat as if looking for uncertainty he expected to follow your admission.

“Are- are you sure?” the hesitant question confirmed your suspicions but was contested by his seemingly unconscious touch.

Fingers running down the slope of your thigh, now hitched over his hip to keep him in place. Adding fuel to the fire and distracting your mind from anything else but Bruce. Even with the fog steadily rising, his question was ridiculous. Without wasting time speaking, you used the empty hand to grab his shirt and pull him down to meet your lips. Again.

Only, this time, you did not idle, instantly opening your mouth and prodding his open with your curious tongue. Swiping against his tongue in a well-practised dance, exploring the inside of his mouth. All the moves were familiar; all elicited a gasp, a tightening hand touching your hip. All increased the temperature till all you wanted to do was make sure Bruce took off his clothes soon. So you could touch him how you wanted to.

Motivated by the thought, you broke the kiss and leaned back far enough to huff out a question:

“Was that good enough for you?” making sure to throw a cheeky smile, you admired the blush blooming upon his cheeks.

The kiss did what you needed it to. Bruce smiled back, the last tint of uncertainty vanishing from his face as you cupped his cheek. Fingertips tracing the sharp cheekbones and the fading bruises. He was beautiful. A fact that still sometimes astonished you after years of hearing about Bruce Wayne and seeing grainy photographs in the paper and online. Along with the idea that one day you would be this close to him. Close enough to touch and tear your heart apart in the process.

Ignoring the melancholy that threatened to steal the moment from your hands, you swept your thumb over Bruce’s bottom lip. Drawing both of you back in. Shaking himself awake, Bruce’s hand ventured up from your hip to trace the hem of your shirt and then dove underneath. Warm fingers skating over your skin, helping the chills settle in and raise the goosebumps. His attentive eyes watched you, noticing every shiver you tried to fight off. Pondering the mystery of what was going to happen next. One thing was clear – this time Bruce had it all figured out. He knew exactly how to get you to the edge of insanity. And then beyond.

Once he leaned in, slowly making his path from the corner of your mouth to your neck with pecks, you knew it was over. With each carefully laid peck, your body trembled. Each ignited a fire in your veins only Bruce could smother. Your hand tightened its hold over his shoulder; legs immediately accommodated to fit his body in the cradle of your thighs. Heart hammering between your ribs, begging to be listened to. To keep him like this forever.

Nosing at your pulse point, Bruce licked the spot, making your hips buck to meet his as if on autopilot. Making you gasp and mutter a curse that never quite got its voice. Only for him to sink his teeth in a shallow bite. Enough for your body to jerk upright, a pathetic breathless moan slipping through the gritted teeth. Enough for you to dig your nails into his arm and bunch up the shirt to find his bare skin. Trace the scars and the outline of muscles. You already felt like you were losing your mind. As if summoned by your hazy thoughts, Bruce concluded his exploration with a final teasing kiss over your collarbone and raised his head to ask:

“Can I?” the enigmatic question was easily explained by his tentative hand tracing the hem of your shirt.

Asking to give him what was already his. You appreciated the thoughtfulness. But there was one condition you had to voice before you gave in.

“Only if you take this off too” tugging at his t-shirt, you whispered out the pitiful wish, “I really want to touch you” a wave of shame threatened to rise, but it never got anywhere.

Not with the way Bruce looked at you after the admission. His lips stretched into a soft smile. Eyes awed and sparkling like rarely before. As if what you said was something he had been aching to hear.

Without another word, Bruce kissed your forehead before getting up on his knees to pull off the shirt in one move. You never saw quite where he threw the clothing. It did not matter that you already saw him like this many times before. Nor that now, after the few harrowing days, his torso was littered with an array of bruises and cuts. Your hand darted out as if controlled with a mind of its own, only just managing to graze the skin of his abdomen. The dark hair trail disappearing into the waistline of his trousers drew your attention like it always did. A simple touch earned you a full-body shiver quickly masked with an outstretched hand, inviting you to join him.

You did not waste a second to get up on your knees and close that awful gap. To meet Bruce’s gaze with bravery you did not feel and take off your shirt. Feeling the drafty air over your naked skin, you moved to cover up, but he stopped you with a firm grip on the forearm. Blue eyes locked stares with yours, ceasing all the chatter running through your brain. Till it was just Bruce. His reassuring touch, running up your arms to trace the bra straps and a silent question you knew he was asking. With the staccato in your chest, you nodded. Just once. Already feeling the rush of blood to your head. It all felt different. More profound. As if every action mattered.

The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating. Despite the ridiculous fears, you nodded and watched with bated breath as Bruce carefully lowered both straps and reached around your back to undo the clasp. Another rush of cold air could be only partially blamed for the shiver that wrecked your frame when the bra slipped down. Leaving your torso bare under Bruce’s watchful gaze. His fingertips skated over your tender skin, slowly circling the dark pink areolas and making you gasp. But it was not enough to shut up the brain. Your hand darted out to stop his meticulous study with a grasp around the wrist. His head snapped back up. An instant crease between the eyebrows brought a flush of softness to your heart.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce’s question made you wince.

You could not tell him. Couldn’t-

“Nothing,” the reply was automatic, your tongue falling into the familiar pattern to make up the word, hoping it would be enough to fool him. It wasn’t. You knew it as soon as you saw his brow twitch with disbelief, soothing circles traced into your upper arm acting as a further reason to let it all spill out, “I’m just… feeling weirdly shy, I guess” it was hard to meet his eyes.

Yet the crux of the issue had been laid out. It fell between you, disappearing into the weighted silence. You knew it made no sense. That Bruce had already seen you. Hell, he’s seen so much more. Still. The head did not want to listen to reason. The once hopeful dreams of getting lost in him tonight already seemed improbable. Because how does one get lost when the head and the heart are still in it?

“Why?” another question brought your back to the scene, his measured voice quickly becoming the lifeline you needed.

The string pulling you back from the spiral and forcing you to talk how you probably should have at the beginning. Your breath caught in your chest when you saw the depth of understanding in his gaze. And no judgement or ire. Almost as if, for Bruce, nothing would change no matter what you said next. Almost as if- No. He’d never. You ignored the idea before it could spread like a disease. Instead, you steeled your spine and gathered the courage to answer his question. To reveal a fraction of the truth, as he deserved.

“Because it matters how you see me” your eyes turned glossy as they focused on his face.

It was more than accurate. An admission long overdue. Somehow you could tell Bruce knew that. His hands cupped your face between his palms in a tender hold. Thumbs softly stroke your cheeks as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead before speaking:

“Then there’s no need to worry” his nose brushed against yours in a gentle caress, letting the whisper carry his words through the narrow space between you, “You’re perfect” his gaze flickered from your eyes to your mouth, but it was easy to miss.

Christ. You wanted to say something else. To protest, ask him how he can tell when you are the only woman he has ever been with. But it would not do. Your heart would never let you. No, it already took the compliment and ran with it, thrashing in your chest like a caged bird. There was nothing you could do.

Nothing, but throw your arms around his neck and dive in for a kiss. Bruce was waiting for you, opening his mouth under yours as soon as you pressed your lips against his. Not willing to waste time already running out, you let your tongue dart out. Swirling it around his and then sucking, enough to make him gasp and pull you closer. His arms enveloped your body, somehow making everything seem fine. Complete, even. You kissed him till there was barely any oxygen left, and you had to separate, eagerly exchanging pecks as you both caught your breath. His taste had filled your mouth, getting rid of the salty tint of tears and the bitterness of coffee. Everything was just Bruce. Like always.

Without thinking, you lowered your head to press another kiss to his chin and then below, tracing the slope of his throat with careful pecks. Bruce’s grip tightened over your waist as a broken groan reverberated through his chest. You could almost feel the sound in your bones. The thought rushed through your body like a bolt of lightning, venturing down between your thighs to a spot you had tried your hardest to ignore. But no longer could. Your core throbbed with the persistent desire as wetness spilt onto the gusset of your panties. You did not have to search your heart to know what you wanted.

That need made you bold enough to swipe your tongue in a broad stroke over Bruce’s throat. Collecting the low moan, he let out with satisfaction. As you sunk your teeth into a shallow bite over his pulse point, the feeling grew tenfold inspired by the noises that Bruce could not to stop. As if you were driving him insane. Leaning back to study your work, you knew the mark on his skin would stay. That it would be something he could remember you by, no matter what came after.

Before you could dive back in to continue, Bruce hooked his fingers under your chin to gently make you raise your head and look at him. So you could see the flushed cheeks and swollen lips parted to let out strained breaths. Following a will of their own, your eyes flicked to his waist and then below, checking whether he was just as affected as you were. What you found only made the frenzy worse. As did his words, accompanied by deliberate touch running along the waistline of your trousers:

“I want to taste you,” Bruce leaned in close, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

But you hardly registered it, brain caught up on what he said. Because that… that was quite something. Something you never expected to hear from him. The surprise must have painted across your face, your gaping mouth left open and eyes staring at him for too long. Until your brain thawed enough for you to speak (or stutter):

“Christ… Bruce, you can’t say things like- Okay, yeah” the string of words made only a little sense, but you compensated with a stupid grin and a hasty nod; the anticipatory shiver already coursing through your body as you met his gaze to add, “A sensible lady never says no that” your lips curled into a smirk, gleefully taking note of his mirroring smile, only then it was time for a check in “Do you really want to?” your hand run up his chest to curl around his shoulder.

Feeling the warmth of his skin and the promise of what he offered. But you could not just let him do it. That would have been too selfish. Even if Bruce seemed pretty convinced. The hunger in his eyes stole your breath as he took your verbal consent and hooked his fingers under the waistline of your trousers. Never straying from your gaze, he gave the reply:

“Yes,” his new confidence could easily be your outdoing.

But it could have also been the unceremonial way he pushed you down onto the bed, your body hitting the mattress with a quiet thud. A confirmation enough for the last of your worries.

“Okay,” a nervous giggle broke out from your chest as you watched him lean over you, those blue eyes darker than usual “Blow my mind, sweetheart” there were no doubts in your mind that he was capable.

It was proven as soon as Bruce finished undressing you, the quick work perfected with his lingering touch had you breathing shallowly. The feeling grew once you were lying naked before him, with nothing but the soaked panties to save you from his intense gaze. From the heat of his eyes, caressing what was already familiar. Tracing the paths his hands would soon follow. Unable to withstand the scrutiny much longer, you reached up to get him close, capturing his mouth with a kiss Bruce had long anticipated. He opened his lips underneath yours without a second wasted while letting his hands venture down your stomach, short fingernails emblazoning your tender skin. Before you knew it, he had tugged down your underwear, leaving you bare. The strange shyness had breached the surface again as you broke the kiss with a gasp and met his gaze with wide eyes. Silently asking for mercy.

One quick kiss and a nod had to be enough for you as Bruce gave your nose a playful nudge, his hand delving between your thighs without another warning. Your body shuddered upon his touch, cheeks turning scarlet once you realised how wet you were. Bruce’s surprise was evident in the slight hitch in his breathing, almost disguised by an inhale.

Your slick covered his fingers to the knuckles as he meticulously learnt to play you how you needed. At first, only stroking your clit with a feather-like touch, then circling your entrance, spreading your arousal, and making your thighs shake. It was already bad. And it could only get worse. For your dignity, that is. Sweat pearled on your forehead as you watched Bruce lower himself down your body, placing pecks along your abdomen. He settled between your thighs, the muscles on his back flexing under the skin in the faint light of the bedroom. As if unconsciously acting on his instincts, Bruce pressed a kiss to the inside of your left thigh, quickly following it with another one on the right thigh. Both kisses burned your skin like a hot poker. The sensation culminated in the apex of your thighs, in the frustrating throbbing you could hardly ignore anymore. But you did not have to.

Bruce met your gaze, seeking consent for the final time. With no words found, save for the ones you could never tell out loud, you nodded, impatiently brushing away the stray strands of hair that fell into your eyes. You wanted to see him. That first glimpse of Bruce diving between your legs with his head bowed was reason enough. As was the way his hands curled around your thighs, keeping them apart and spread. Leaving you exposed and shaking with want. All the faintest doubts disappeared when his tongue touched your clit in a kitten stroke. Your body jerked upright, kept in place only with Bruce’s steel grip. He repeated the move, drawing out a moan you could not hold in. Setting your blood on fire. Christ. A thousand curses and endearments rose in your throat but were desperately stifled by your waning self-control. You knew it would not last long.

The first blow came with Bruce’s skilful tongue circling your clit, learning all the different ways to make you tremble. He was a good listener, taking all the cues you were leaving and changing his technique to fit your needs. Searching for grounding, you sank your fingers in his hair and pulled. Bruce did not seem to mind, briefly stopping his feast to press a lingering kiss on your thigh. His fingers traced circles onto your skin, soothing the fevered flesh. The unbidden confessions showed up again, choking you with ferocity. Bruce was the one to save you, letting his tongue delve inside you in an exploratory move. One that made your hips buck into his face and tore a shout from your mouth.

Desire shot through your body like a bolt of lightning, bringing a delirious grin onto your face. It was quickly wiped clean as Bruce continued licking into you with passion you never expected from him. Utterly devoted to the task and focused on driving you crazy. A coil tightened in your lower belly, making it much harder to shut up. Making you squirm and trash under his hold. When he interrupted the relentless penetration with a flick of his tongue over your clit, you could not keep quiet.

“God, you- You’re so good” panting out the sentence that barely made sense, you highlighted the sentiment with a sharper tug on his hair.

Making Bruce groan into your core, the sound pushing you down the slippery slope with no way back. From then on, it was only a question of when you would break. Your body burned under his attention. Each point of contact felt like a flame scorching your flesh. Your heart hammered between your ribs, overwhelmed with the multitude of feelings. Pleasure rose and rose until all you could do was gasp his name between moans. Till your head was empty of everything but Bruce. Until the tension snapped, and an explosion filled your vision with white.

“I’m- Fuck,” the curse substituted any words you could have intended to say, but it was enough.

Bruce knew, his hands gripped your legs harder as if to ground you moments before. You came with his name on your lips and your hand gripping his hair. Your core squeezed around his prodding tongue wave after wave as Bruce lapped at your arousal without hesitation. Your thighs trapped his head between them, but he did not seem to mind, helping you ride the aftershocks with patience. As you came to, feeling your body go limp with a sigh, Bruce took his time earnestly licking at your folds. Collecting every drop as if he was hooked already on the taste. You did not dare dwell on that thought too long.

Instead, you searched for his hand to squeeze his palm. He understood the signal, instantly raising his head to find your gaze. You knew the look in your eyes could only be described as wild, with the pupils blown out large. But staring into his darkened blue stare, the realization did not hurt quite so much. His lips and chin were shiny from your arousal; the discovery of the fact sent a shiver down your spine. Bruce took hold of your hand to return the squeeze while his lips stretched into a confident smile. An incredibly attractive look, you had to admit.

“So… I take it, I did good,” emphasizing the word, Bruce smirked, his eyes twinkling.

Despite the embarrassment at what you said, you could not stop the chuckle. The fondness in your heart made its way to your gaze as you attempted a one-sided shrug.

“You broke me” that was an understatement.

But it only made his grin brighter. Without breaking the eye contact Bruce swept his tongue over his lower lip. Collecting the droplets of your come and crawling up to meet you on the bed. There was no mercy for the wicked.

“I can tell” his eyes roamed over your face affectionately, making you want to hide from his attention.

But you chose to meet it straight on, raising your head just enough to capture his lips in a kiss. Only to instantly groan into his mouth when you tasted yourself on his tongue. Bruce’s embrace tightened around your arms as he gathered you into his chest, carefully laying down next to you. And never breaking the kiss that stretched and evolved to fit your needs. Going from hectic and eager to languid. From chaotic to deliberate, and lasting till you were both out of breath, panting against each other’s mouth, unwilling to separate. You made sure you were sufficiently curled against his warm body before you leaned back to put some space and find his gaze again.

The blue eyes were never disappointing, instantly setting your body on fire with the tenderness you found in them. It felt good to be like this with Bruce, able to let go of the fears and inhibitions. Able to give in to the love you could feel coursing in your bloodstream every second you had spent with Bruce. Because even if he did not reciprocate, the memories would still be there. After. Whatever that meant. After you fucked it and told him, probably. With the aching heart beating in your chest and the creeping dread threatening to tear the moment away from you, the hesitant question placed itself on the tip of your tongue:

“Was it how you imagined?” with your eyes trained on his face, you knew when Bruce caught the meaning.

His flushed cheeks turned redder as his arms tightened around your waist, nose nuzzling into your head to buy him some time. And hide from your curious gaze. Bruce Wayne was adorable, and you had no idea what to do with the fact.

“Better,” his reply came in the form of a rushed word and was followed by an admission you almost thought you had misheard, “Think I’m already addicted to you” he raised his head again to meet your eyes.

It was impossible to get rid of the lovesick look on your face as your body shivered with anticipation. That something was still in the air. The tension that assured you Bruce was eager to take another step. You did not have to search your heart and mind to know you wanted it too. Right here and now. No matter the consequences. You knew there was a high chance you would regret it later. But that did not matter now.

Carefully, you placed your hand over his heart, splaying the palm on his chest and replied:

“That’s my line” taking a deep breath to take the plunge, you added, “I- I want you,” your voice wavered, but the revelation could not have been surer.

The sudden shyness was still concerning, rendering you nearly useless with how it had tied your tongue into knots. But with Bruce, those three words were enough. His eyes darkened almost instantly, a hitch in the breath disguised by a kiss pressed to your temple. It was easy to tell what it meant, encouraging you to trail your hand down the broad planes of his chest and stomach. Eliciting another gasp, this time masked with a tentative question:

“Are you sure?” the irony of his asking did not escape you.

The last time it had been you that asked, a thousand times or more, just to ascertain he would not regret it. To be assured that Bruce wanted to give you that crucial part of himself. A gift no one had given you before. Not quite like that. But now, after everything, you appreciated that he checked. Even though you never needed him to.

“Perfectly” you found his eyes to show him the smile on your face while your hand skated lower still, brushing over his abdomen and the trail of hair disappearing into the waistband.

But you did not stop there, letting your fingertips touch his zipper in what you hoped was a smooth enough suggestion. It worked if the way Bruce grabbed your hand was anything to go by. You shot him a questioning glance, waiting for that telling nod to work his belt undone. Once you had it, his eyes dark and hungry, you did not waste time tugging his trousers and boxers down his legs and throwing them somewhere onto the floor. The longer you hesitated, the more likely it would be for your head or heart to catch up. Intervene in what was supposed to be just sex. No strings attached. Or so you liked to tell yourself.

Only when neither of you could hide behind fabric or pretence, the noises in your head grew quiet again. The room was silent as your eyes trailed over his naked body, consuming all the details you had almost forgotten. Though it had only been days. Like the constellation of moles on his hip or the exact markings of his multiple scars. Like the fading bruises, which were all new to your eyes. Like the feel of his hand running over your hip and thigh, drawing you in for a kiss.

You went willingly, melting into his touch and making sure every inch of your body touched his. With your leg in between his, arms thrown around his waist and mouth sealed in a kiss. A kiss that went on for minutes, which felt like hours. An eternity of your tongues sliding against each other’s and tracing the insides of your mouths. Imprinting the taste of him in your mind forever. Slowly, your hands continued exploration, reaching down to touch his length. Carefully yet firmly enough to elicit a groan from his lips and break the kiss. Encouraged by the reaction, you circled his shaft with your hand, putting pressure and making Bruce gasp. It felt powerful.

Bruce met your gaze with dark, hungry eyes, wasting no time to delve a hand between your thighs and spread your arousal over your folds. All for an act of retaliation that had you cursing under your breath. All to make sure you were ready for him. Without stopping your ministrations, you settled to lie on your back, silently extending an invitation. Bruce took it with your name on his lips and his hands on your waist. He shifted to hover over you, knees resting in the cradle of your thighs. The staccato of your heartbeat thumped between your ribs as you laced your hands on the nape of his neck and met his gaze. Nodding once more to assure the both of you. That it was alright. It was what you wanted. Even if it already felt like a mistake.

Bruce entered you with a gasp falling from his lips, one of his hands coming up to cup your face. You exhaled sharply upon the stretch, body instantly accommodating the feel of him. Your legs opened wider, knees coming up to rest over his hips. It was simple, a primal instinct taking over as you looked him in the eyes and let him know it was okay to move. You could only hope that the pain in your heart would ease. That you could ignore it.

At first, it was easy. You did not let your eyes stray from Bruce, noting every expression that flitting across his face. The awe, the pleasure, and the need. Your fingers tangled into his hair while the other hand sought purchase on his shoulder. Feeling the heat radiating from him and warming every cell of your body. Bruce built up a rhythm, thrusting into you with ease and care. Now and then, he leaned in to kiss you, consuming your lips with his. You tried focusing on it, on the delicious friction and the feel of him inside you. On the closeness and the touch. On the familiarity of his kisses, the pressure of his mouth against yours. But it was not enough. Your heart still felt as if it was being torn apart.

With a moan, you hoisted your legs to cross them over his back, bucking your hips into his. Pleasure erupted underneath your eyelids as he hit the spot that made you cry out his name. Bruce’s only answer was a guttural groan reverberating through your joined bodies. Adding to the urgency building between you. To the need to have it faster and sooner and now. You repeated the move, following that instinct. Soon enough, you had Bruce where you wanted him – gasping and panting; his eyes screwed shut with pleasure.

The pressure in your abdomen rose, making your moans louder. Making you rake your fingernails over his back, breaking the skin and marking Bruce as yours. Only he wasn’t. He wasn’t yours. He could never be yours.

Later you wondered what the reason was. What made you break and shatter like glass. Whether it was how Bruce suddenly opened his eyes and looked at you. His gaze full of affection and admiration you did not deserve and never could live up to. Or his gentle touch, caressing the expanse of your thigh. Or the feel of his breath against your gasping mouth, offering kisses you could not claim without risking too much. Or how he whispered your name, the syllables filled with reverence and devotion. Or maybe it was the constant beating of your heart, spelling out the confessions you could never tell him. Blinding you to the pleasure building in your body.

Before you caught up and understood what was happening, it was done. Tears pooled in your eyes and spilt down your cheeks, tinting your swollen lips with salt. A whimper got caught in your throat, fracturing the moment in a second. You never had the time to hide.

As if in slow motion, you could see when Bruce noticed. His body stilled, eyes widening as his forehead scrunched up with concern. His palm returned to your cheek, rendering it impossible to escape his gaze. The heart thrashed in your chest as you scrapped your mind for words, excuses, anything at all. By the time Bruce asked the question, you came up empty:

“Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?” the worry in his voice felt like a knife to your bleeding heart; you tried turning your head into the pillow, but he did not let you, “Hey, don’t-” you’ve had enough, pressing your palm to his mouth, shutting him up.

At last, your brain found what was needed.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine” the lie fell with practised ease as you slipped on the mask you had tried on many times before; it was just another role, another part to play, “I’m good, Bruce. I promise” forcing a saccharine smile, you moved your palm to caress his face “Don’t stop, please” to strengthen the act, you tightened the muscles in your thighs, caging him within your hold.

Praying to every god you had ever heard of that Bruce would listen. That the tears could dry on your face, and he would push you over the precipice. Help you lose yourself in him and the pleasure. Because you could never explain it. Did not dare to try.

“But you’re-” the conflicted look in his eyes was still there, staining every word with unease.

Ripping your heart into shreds. But there was no other way. There was no universe where you could tell him the truth. No world where you could come clean, whisper those three cursed words, and have this. Things like that didn’t happen to people like you. So, you turned to what you knew best. Desperate to have this night, even if it would be the last one. Impatiently, you wiped the tears off your face and hooked your fingers under his chin, bringing Bruce closer. His mouth an inch away from yours, hot breath fanning your lips:

“I need you like this,” your eyes revealed the despair you no longer tried to hide, “I need you to fuck me so I can forget everything else” as soon as the words left your mouth, you knew why it felt wrong.

It was a dirty trick, an appeal to the side Bruce did not yet have under control. But it was the only one you knew would work. And it had to work.

His gasp and the way he twitched inside you confirmed you were right. But nothing eased the bitterness coating your tongue. Not the way Bruce squeezed you tighter, his swallowed curse buried in the heated kiss you did not deny him. When his tongue swept over yours, you wondered whether he could taste your anguish.

Bruce broke the contact too soon, searching your face for any signs of the truths you had been hiding. All for nothing. Pressing your forehead to his, you whispered the final word of encouragement:

“Please” you met his gaze, aware of your glassy eyes and the pain in your tone.

Bruce only nodded and kissed your forehead, resuming the steady rocking of his hips into yours. Almost as if nothing happened at all. Almost. Your inner walls involuntarily clenched around him, drawing out another groan. Making the throbbing between your thighs prominent again. Just like before. Squeezing his waist with your legs, you latched onto his arms, thrusting up to meet his hips with increasing speed. The desire pooled in your veins, making you bite his shoulder. Resulting in a loud moan, which only spurred you on.

Trading bites like kisses along his neck and throat till Bruce was panting above you. His hips stuttered and twitched in what you knew were tell-tale signs he was close. You were not that far behind, freeing one of your hands to find your clit between your bodies. Desperate to follow him.

Your movement made Bruce look up, his eyes instantly finding yours. You should have always known that would be your downfall. How he looked at you, his gaze filled with a myriad of feelings, some indescribable and impossible to identify. That same unknowable emotion there, like many times before. That tenderness and affection that bruised your heart each time. This one was not any different.

The heart thumped in your chest, the pulse in your ears drowning out thoughts and fears till all you could hear were the moans and sighs neither of you held back. Till unbidden words slipped through your tight control.

“Make me yours. I want to be yours” only when they were out, whispered in between whimpers, you realised what you just said.

What it meant. And prayed Bruce did not hear it. Please.

There was no time to dwell on it, for as soon as the words left your mouth Bruce’s hips stuttered. His tempo waned, forcing you to act. To take over the rhythm and buck your hips till you could feel him tense up. Till it was enough. His lips opened with a breathless moan as he came inside you with a sharp gasp, his head hiding in the crook of your neck. Bruce’s body shook in your hold as he rode the high, never once stopping to chant your name into your skin.

With his arms around you still, it was easy to let go. Let yourself fall, knowing Bruce was there to catch you. For once, you weren’t alone. The sensation of his teeth biting into the sensitive skin underneath your ear pushed you over the precipice. Your vision darkened, a sharp cry piercing the silence as your steel grip bruised his bicep. Your tense muscles uncoiled at once as the orgasm coursed through your body, twitching in the aftershocks. You had been burnt to cinder. Ruined for anyone else. Forever.

Unable to move, you sagged into the mattress, eyes closed to stop yourself from doing something stupid. Or stupider than you’ve already done. Faintly, you could feel a reassuring touch running over your arms and waist, lulling the anxieties and fears. Fooling you into the promise of safety. But the mirage was better than the hard truth and the cruel reality. You took a deep breath to steady your heart and opened your eyes.

Only to find Bruce gazing back at you with concern. On its own accord, your hand rose to smooth the wrinkle between his eyebrows. Before you could drop it again, he pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist. He rolled off your body, putting inches of space between you as he settled on his side.

“Everything alright?” his question brought you back into the moment, anchoring your mind in the present.

The tinge of relief at the lack of mention of your slip-up was unmistakable. But so was the gratitude you felt upon check-in. A step Bruce could have ignored after everything you had put him through. Especially tonight. Your throat suddenly felt dry. You went too far, didn’t you?

“Yeah. Yes,” swallowing hard, you hoped the guilt could be wiped off your face, “You’ve just kinda blown my mind” a half-hearted shrug and a weak smile were all you could manage.

It was not surprising to see a flash of distrust in Bruce’s eyes as they scanned your face for any signs of lies. You were too good at pretending for him to find anything solid. But he knew you well enough to tell something was off. After a beat, he gave up, meeting your gaze with a smirk of his own:

“You asked me to” the confidence in his voice was still there, now, perhaps even stronger.

Because – yes. You asked, and he delivered, and now you knew, for a fact, that Bruce Wayne was an avid learner. Which somehow made everything harder. Like not falling for him further. If that was even possible.

You did not talk much after. With your refusal to delve into any part of what happened, and Bruce’s inability to persuade you to talk, it was easier to stay silent. As if on autopilot, you pressed a final kiss to his lips and got up, wordlessly heading to the ensuite. To hide and marinate in misery for as long as you could without it being even more suspicious. Avoiding the mirror, you got dressed in a set of sweats and cleaned your face.

The unknown of what you would find back in your room terrified you the most. Because there was no guarantee Bruce would still be there. You did not discuss it, easily letting the awkwardness consume you both. But the hope was still there. The hope that he would stay. Even if just this once.

When you had hand-combed your hair and checked at least twenty times whether there were no signs of the war you were waging in your head, you exited the bathroom. Your eyes darted across the room, drawn to the bed where you had last seen him. Bruce was still there, sitting on the edge of the mattress with his back turned to you. Your heart thumped in your chest, relieved and overwhelmed at once. Bruce waiting on you was just a part of the predicament. The other was that now you had to ask for what you needed.

The creaking floorboards gave away your presence as Bruce glanced at you over his shoulder. He was still shirtless, his back littered with moles, scars, and red lines from where you had scratched him. The discovery brought an instant blush to your cheeks as you silently stared back. The impasse was broken by Bruce’s timid smile, warming up your heart and stifling the fears. If he was still around, it meant that it would be okay. Right?

In a split second, you decided that the only way of finding out was to ask him. No matter how terrifying that seemed. Steeling your spine upon his searching look, you whispered the question:

“Can you stay with me?” fully aware of the tremble in your voice and the shaking in your hands, clasped together tightly.

Aware of the vulnerability you were showing, on top of the rollercoaster of emotions you had dragged him through the past hour. But there was no annoyance on Bruce’s face. An invisible weight lifted off your shoulders as you watched him nod, following the gesture with a reply:

“I was hoping you’d ask” it was that same soft tone which had captured your heart at the very beginning.

Almost as gentle as the look in his eyes, willingly offering the truth you did not expect to hear. Not after everything. Frozen with the dazed smile on your lips, you only moved when Bruce got up from the bed and crossed the space to you. His hand reached out to squeeze your palms as he leaned in to kiss your temple. Without another word, he disappeared into the bathroom. But there were no regrets or uncertainties this time. He would stay. It would be okay.

At least until the morning.

***

Later, when she was long asleep, quiet snores breaking the silence in the room, Bruce was still awake. He watched her chest rise and fall with every breath. Her head was cushioned on his shoulder as if it belonged there. There was only a slight twinge of guilt in his heart when he tightened the hold over her body, drawing her closer. Because god only knew how long that would last. Because if there was one thing the evening taught him, it was that she still was lost within the prison of her own making. Unwilling to believe it was real. That this was real. She was still looking for a reason to run. And he had no way of proving her wrong.

But Bruce wanted to try. Even if it would all be in vain.

He stared at her peaceful face, bathed in the faint moonlight peeking through the hastily drawn curtains, feeling the steady beat of her heart. There was only one thought circling in his head like a vulture. She was wrong. And she had to know. Bruce turned his head towards hers, instantly feeling her burrow her head into the crook of his neck. Still asleep. An uncertain smile bloomed on his face as he whispered:

“I told you there would never be anybody else,”

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bosskie · 3 months

Text

Molluck Love Sculpt

Here's my baby boy, like I promised! I have been just talking about that I'm gonna do a Molluck sculpt and show it when it's done. This was supposed to be a bust first but welp, my thirst for him won... (I just love his body, okay.) I haven't sculpted for 8 years and never from air hardening clay like this.

I finished him yesterday, doing just some little improvements since I painted him for like 8 hours two days ago, so intensively that I basically skipped my main meal... In total, he took about 20 hours to make but I feel like I could still improve him but maybe later on since I'm reluctant to paint him more... I just feel so tired right now but still wanna post this version of him, even if I improve him later on.

I did that heart from the leftover clay since there wasn't much of it, and I must say that I do not recommend this clay... This was the most difficult Molluck thing I have ever created. Sculpting this took about 12 hours and I did it without any actual breaks because I had to... I used Darwi Classic air hardening clay I had bought many years ago, and I had to use significantly water in order to sculpt this even there shouldn't have been need for it... It made my hands messy and having that clay on my hands for so long gave me some issues... But I got normal after some time. My finger tips were just more sensitive for some days, for about a week, and somewhat purple but also my lips turned somewhat purple for a day... So yeah, a little warning here.

Even sculpting that heart felt surprisingly difficult... I would descibe my feeling when sculpting with this clay like this: It felt like I tried to sculpt using Toms Sweethearts candy but also having some gum or blu-tack in it... Yeah, therefore it was almot impossible to do any details, so this is pretty simple due to the clay I used... It was said that it is like that basic clay, you know, but no, I couldn't use some basic tools I'm used to use for clay! So yeah, sculpting this was awful and I felt like this is gonna be just a disaster... But like after 8 hours it started to finally look like something, so I got some hope and just kept working on this.

Welp, since I started to talk about my progress, I could show you that first:

So yeah, first I did his 'skeleton' from aluminium foil, and as you can see, his pose was meant to be a bit different but he couldn't hold that pose, so he is more 'relaxed' now. (You can probably see what I was thinking with that original pose...) I have never done 'skeletons' for sculpts but I did one because it was recommended in the tips I read. I see that it wasn't really a good skeleton but it did its job still. I had to make his hands incorrect due to that bad skeleton but also make them less likely to break... This clay isn't very durable, so after sculpting it, and it being completely dry, I added a layer of PVA glue since I read people doing so for hardening their sculpts, and I do can recommend it too! It did also make the surface shiny and 'smoother'. And after that, I painted him using acrylic paints.

I'm actually quite new to modelling since I haven't done it much and I have felt like I'm bad at modelling... I have been better at carving and man, it came to mind how I would like to try to carve Molluck from wood or something! Never done that but it interests me... I have just carved from urethane at school. I'm not a fan of displaying my own works at home but I got those urethane sculptures around. But yeah, I do wish to do more sculptures and from better clay... Yeah, this was a pain to sculpt but I'm pleased with that I got even something Molluck-like done! And especially since this was a struggle, he is my beloved baby boy I feel like protecting with my life! I just gave my everything to get him done in the best way possible I could...

I wish I could have done more details here... But welp, maybe after I get better at sculpting and find better clay! (You can recommed me stuff.) And yeah, here's some photos about the sculpt from different angles:

I know that he can look kinda odd and his anatomy is incorrect on some stuff but yeah, I had to make his legs thicker to make them not to break easily... I could have add some paint to indicate that his legs ain't so thick but didn't feel like it, I made him for myself after all. Oh, and yes, I added my recent Molluck drawing to fill that blank space since well, Molluck might not be happy about me 'leaking his nudes'...

Here's more photos:

And here's even more photos:

He is about 34 cm long, 20 cm wide, and 8 cm high, so he ain't small! (I didn't plan to make him this big but it just happened...) I couldn't really figure out a good way to show his size, so there's just some silly stuff... He is probably happy about that huge cigar! Oh, and I couldn't resist taking a photo like that about the Abe sculpture and my Molluck. (I finally got the sculpture I wanted to get from that Soulstorm Collector's Oddition. (Y)) And even Molluck looks so adorable with the brew, I wouldn't still drink it... What an odd ad for it this would be... And yes, he is on baking paper... It was another tip I read. Even he looks 'good enough to eat', I wouldn't eat my baby, just, um, taste! I wonder if his meat would (also) have cigar aroma though...

And yeah, like I have said, I got multiple copies of Abe's Oddysee... (I got both black label and platinum versions.) I had already forgotten how that big box PC version described Molluck: 'A ruthless overlord: If you think cruelty, paranoia, ruthlessness, and double-dealing are endearing traits, you're going to love Molluck, the Glukkon and his army of gun totiny, slime-slobbering Sligs, Sligs, Paramites, and Scrabs.' I really like that 'endearing' as the word choice. (Y) I also kinda like how that PlayStation one describes RuptureFarms being 'a meat-processing plant from hell'. This also made me wonder how 'hell' is seen in Oddworld... Why I don't read these things more often... But yeah, just wondering random stuff, again. And well, while I'm talking about my stuff my imagination gives me, yesterday, I laughed at my own silly idea about Molluck's YouTube channel, if he had one, or should I say 'GlukTube'... I just saw one GIF about the bad ending in New 'n' Tasty where Molluck and the Slig just looked at Abe falling to the meat saw. They just looked like some scientists, looking at what happens, so it gave me idea of Molluck doing some meat saw videos... It's kinda a parody related to Hydraulic Press Channel... But with meat saws! I can just imagine him having his own meat saw, using it for the Sligs that pissed him way too off... I'm still laughing at this idea and kinda wish to realize it in some way.

But yes, the sculpt: I wanted to make it to feel better about myself, feel loved, lovable. That's why I also made that heart (Can you guess my favourite font yet?). He looks so adorable and I really wish that I could hug and kiss him... It was kinda funny when OWI posted recently a short video about Glukkon anatomy and the tone was like their bodies are ugly... (OWI, I wish to see that body!) Everyone can think whatever about their bodies, but in my opinion, Molluck has the hottest/most beautiful/best body I have ever seen! Like I have said earlier, he is my only desire... But my desire/thirst comes from love, and like I have said, I only started to notice his appearance after I started to love him. I just love this Glukkon so much... And well, even his anatomy can restrict him, I tend to think that he is able to give big kisses and hugs! I also love his lil legs, they are so beautiful, like his body is in general! Man, this Gluk just makes me crazy... I'm not the first one to sculpt his naked body but um, I guess that no one else has sculpted him in this tone... Yes, I confess that this sculpt is also kinda suggestive but love is the main element here; it's about making love to me anyway. The first thing that comes to my mind from this sculpt is just how much I wish that I could hold him tight...

Oh, and I do not have a proper place for my sculpt, and I'm sorry for the bad photos... I cannot really take any better ones. But I wish to create him a nice little place where he can be! I just feel like giving my everything to him and I even made some pancakes yesterday to kinda celebrate getting him done! Man, if Molluck was 'real', I would spoil him, but can a Gluk even be spoilt or was he already spoilt... Yeah, he is my beloved Gluk! I just cannot help myself that it's him who just feels like the one for me... Even is fictional, I feel like he lives inside my head and I can feel like he loves me... It really means a lot to me, especially during the moments when I feel like I'm just a human trash no one should love... I also just spend that much time with him that well, it's quite natural that he kinda starts to live for me... I still understand what's real but my own imagination is, well, vivid. Our brains do not even make difference between real and fictional people, so it makes me love him like he was real.

I'm keeping Molluck loved every day by sending/giving much love every day! 💞 I hope that my love for him can give something for you too!

#molluck #oddworld molluck #molluck the glukkon #oddworld #art like a bosskie

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paper-starz · 1 year

Note

*walks in in a very normal fashion, nothing weird about it at all*

Hiya it's me, Dot's friend again.

So.

*AHEM* I want to ask both you and Dot this (it's about Dot's OC Effie) (feel free to ignore)

Hypothetically speaking, what if Effie was apart of the SAS AU? Do you have any ideas on how she would react to finding this stuff out, or how she would cope, etc.

Hehehe! What a coincidence! (I just finished drawing her!)

Hypothetically, I see Effie as a very capable girl. At first, (just like Howdy) she would deny such things! Her? In a children's show? Cannot be possible! Her memories said otherwise! (Plus, Frank was the one who told her... and she isn't very keen on trusting the butterfly enthusiast's words...)

But, the evidence kept on adding up! She couldn't really avoid it much longer... She tried telling Howdy about this.... but he stayed in denial much longer than her.

She was a bit confused, a bit angry. Wondering if her feelings towards Poppy were even real, were they even meant to be real? How can something as simple and as joyous as love be... forbidden in the rest of the world's eyes?

But while she was angry, she also knew she just had to help somehow. She stays near Poppy, trying to calm everyone down as best as she can (she also tries to help Poppy as best she could too! She doesn't want to her love to overwork herself...)

Whatever Poppy needs, whether that would be getting some needles, some thread, some stuffing, or holding down a screaming puppet while Poppy sews their arm up... she would do it, no hesitation. (Sometimes she wonders how Poppy sleeps at night.... do the screams keep her awake?)

As for Howdy, she tries as best she can to get Howdy to stop drinking. To see her best friend let himself go like this breaks her heart. Sometimes she's successful.... most times she isn't (and ends up taking care of the poor guy).

Her coping habits aren't as bad though. She smokes a bit more often (but not as much as Barnaby! They are smoking buddies :D)... But i feel like her biggest coping mechanism is making sure everyone has at least a little bit of fun... She's based on the flapper ladies of the Roaring 20s! She knows how to have fun.

She acts suave, elegant, and confident, which puts everyone at ease! She puts on some music and makes everyone dance (the charleston of course!) And she won't stop until she sees everyone smile (even the butterfly enthusiast!).

She's unsure how to feel about Wally. Sure, he's innocent but.... he's kinda the sole reason everything is happening the way it is. She somewhat tries to be friendly with him (at least when Poppy's around, mama bird still genuinely loves Wally, so maybe Effie can pretend to like him.)

One thing is for sure, Effie hates Home with all her heart. It's the reason everyone is so fucked up, it's the reason Howdy can barely look Wally in the eye (and drinks himself silly in the Bugdega), it's the reason that Poppy is stressed out of her mind trying to keep the rest of the neighborhood safe...

She wants nothing more than to burn that damned building down to the ground.

(EFFIE DOES NOT BELONG TO ME, she belongs to @dottyorange )!!!

#welcome home au #self-aware swap au #welcome home #welcome home barnaby #welcome home frank #welcome home oc #welcome home poppy #welcome home home #barnaby b beagle #howdy pillar #welcome home howdy #frank frankly #poppy patridge #effie dragonfly #welcome home wally #wally darling #answered asks #wow this was long

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eurofox · 4 months

Text

Yakuza Ishin! review

Finished as much of this as I'm bothered with. Spoilers btw

Ok story wise this has to be one of weakest. I get that it's meant to be somewhat rooted in historical fact so it was limited in that way but it's just not great IMO. It takes forever to get going and when it finally does get interesting it's too near the end and a lot of shite is just dumped in the final cutscene. At least they didn't make us fight Jingu The whole 2 Ryoma thing got confusing and the reason behind it all felt flimsy. The great fire of Kyoto ended up being no big deal with most minimal damage ever? like wtf. I liked the historical setting but it felt undercooked overall tbh. Also I can buy bare knuckle Kiryu somehow never killing people, but Ryoma is straight up canonically using a sword, so it started feeling silly. I honestly appreciated the fact that he did just start killing near the end.

It was nice to see Mine again, but he felt underused. I don't care for Baba so I'm alright with Zhao. Having Ryoma's bro played by a former villain was pretty much a spoiler from the get go, could see betrayal coming a mile off. They did Daigo so dirty, making him the bald Shogun that gets almost no screentime :( . Also kinda disappointed Andre Richardson/Glover didn't do his asshole move of refusing to speak Japanese despite understanding but he did get his cool theme. Ryoma was interesting and felt different enough from Kiryu personality wise. I'm glad they kept Haruka as a side character so it wasn't retreading the same old stuff

Combat is stiffer than what I was expecting, but this is an old game I guess and I last played lost judgement which is very smooth so that didn't help. Brawler did so little damage and every enemy is armed so I stopped using it early on. Gunplay was a nice change, and so was wild dancer but both didn't really do much damage either. Stuck with sword most of the time but it got old after awhile, again it felt very stiff. Avoiding combat was a nightmare in this game, enemies were always waiting in that same narrow street The long battles are usually my favourite part of any game but they were rare and not done well here. Aside from storming Daigo's castle, which was ok. Way too many boss fights and most of them felt spongy as hell, like, if I'm setting a TIGER on you why is it doing so little damage? I actually didn't mind the trooper cards though overall, added a bit of variety. The blacksmith requires far too much grinding in an already grindy game so I made one ok gun and never looked back. Most weapons you find seem to be better anyway.

There was a few interesting substories, like the bathhouse and Sumo brothel but way less than other games. And fucking hell the amount of friendship bonds was out of control and boring as all fuck, just repetitive fetch quests and sob stories. One or two were funny but the rest I could not give less of a shit about.

Karaoke and dancing are fine, I just suck at them but it was cool seeing it in the historical setting. The brothel games got dull fast and chicken racing sucks. Never liked gambling anyway. The Farm simulator was an ok distraction and so was the cooking but very simple and I didn't find myself going back to them much. Fuck those prize ticket machines though, turning a wheel over and over to win like 40 scraps of paper.

Graphics wise it was ok, especially main cutscenes which are actually pretty good. You can see every stitch in the haoris But still looks very dated otherwise and the amount of pop in was crazy. I could be halfway down the street before textures loaded.

Soundtrack is ok. Nothing really stood out aside from the remixed themes though.

Everything feels so sloooow. Scrolling menus especially. And talking to people. And going into fights or entering buildings. other yakuza games are like this but only older ones.

I did enjoy it and played til the end, but far from my favourite Yakuza title. I'll admit a lot of the issues are probably because it's a remake of a 10 year old game so of course it's going to feel clunky, so I'm glad I didn't pay full price for this.

Stuff I liked:

Historical setting

Guns and trooper cards could be fun

Some of the sidequests

Mine getting some time to shine (even if it's only a little)

Ryoma himself is pretty cool

Story cutscenes look great

Stuff I didn't like:

Awful pop in and slow menus

friendship bonds with every other clown in the streets of Kyo

Meh story

Poor damage output making battles way too long, with brawler being straight up useless

Too much steam in bathhouse fight

Bald Daigo

Blacksmithing

#yakuza #yakuza ishin #ishin #like a dragon #like a dragon ishin #lad #lad ishin

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royalarchivist · 2 years

Note

hey, can u not censor swear words in ur transcripts, heres a post explaining why

but in short: its considered ableist and infantilizing to censor anything in transcripts, especially swear words, cause not only are you giving hoh and deaf ppl a different experience from hearing ppl, but ur also infantilizing them by disallowing them from hearing something as simple as the words "fuck" and "shit"

deaf and hoh ppl are not innocent lil pwecious uwu soft beans and have just as much rights to hear swear words as hearing ppl, and by censoring swear words ur just being ableist, infantilizing and disrespectful

so yea, when it comes to transcripts do. not. censor. a. single. word. nobody cares if censoring words its a part of ur typing style or if its uncomfortable to fully type out swear words, accessibility for disabled people should always, always, ALWAYS come first before ur typing style

I've responded to something similar in the past, but I know there are a lot of new folks that have followed recently and things tend to get buried on the blog, so it's worth reiterating.

I do agree that there are a lot of issues with subtitling and transcriptions in media, especially in the past few years, and I'm glad we're seeing more conversations about it, particularly after this disaster started circulating:

Ugh.

But this ask is about my blog and not about film industry stupidity, so let's focus on that.

As I've repeatedly said, I don't leave things out or "censor" things because I think people are too innocent to see a curse word online (because let's be honest, that's stupid). However, I do think it's a bit unfair to assume I have bad intentions, let alone ableist intentions, with my transcripts!

I started this blog mainly because I wanted to share clips with friends, and I didn't want to clog up my main, but the posts started getting more attention than I expected. Every once in a while I started adding quick transcripts here and there, and full transcripts on rare occasions. I started doing subtitled videos after translating a few clips for the KarmaIand community, and then I kept it up because it's fun and good video editing practice. For me, the determining factor for whether or not I do something is ultimately a matter of, "Do I have time?", and I usually don't! Today, I'm using that handful of minutes to respond to this instead of working on video stuff.

I took a quick glance through the blog and I'd say only 70% of posts have any kind of transcription (if I'm being generous), and even less have full transcriptions. This blog isn't meant to eat up my time; it's a side hobby I'm not getting paid for. I'm just sharing goofy clips because they make me smile, and I hope they can make other people smile too. This blog isn't a priority for me, and it's not an official / professional archive, nor do I want people to treat it as such!

As far as the "Nobody cares" part, I care!!! I rely on subtitles for everything I consume, and I'd genuinely love to be able to write full transcripts for every single video every single time and not "censor" things so I can help other people like me. But like I've said before, I can't, and that's a topic I'm not going to get into because it's nobody's business! ¯\(ツ)/¯ I hope you can respect this boundary. It's not a matter of me having a "typing style".

Ultimately, this is my take on the matter: if it's a choice between doing transcripts to the best of my abilities or just posting things with no transcripts or subtitles at all, I'm always going to choose the former.

Even though I'm sad and disappointed that some people are quick to assume the worst of me and my intentions solely because of what I put (or don't put) in the description of a goofy little MCYT video, I do appreciate your passion anon, because this is a big issue! Unfortunately, this is as much as I can help, but I'm of the belief that any effort made in good faith is better than no effort made at all.

For folks who want full transcripts that are very professional, I highly recommend checking out @mcyt-transcribed! They've got a great team, and they've even transcribed a few of my videos, which is nice! I've always appreciated what they do, and I think they deserve a lot more love and recognition.

I know this is a very long post and not what people signed up for when they followed this blog, but I like addressing this stuff because I feel like, in this community especially, people tend to have a habit of letting things fester. And that sucks! We're all just here to watch people make jokes and play block game, after all. I think open communication is key to resolving most issues, and even though people won't agree on everything, I hope they're able to walk away from the conversation without any hard / hurt feelings and with a better understanding of the other person.

#replies #anon #I'm genuinely so tired of seeing people fight in this community #I almost didn't start this blog because I was so sure I'd have to watch people picking fights with each other in the notes of my posts #and if I have to see that kind of twitter stupidity here I'm going to lose my mind #but everyone's been polite and funny so I'm inclined to keep on sharing clips #but full disclosure the moment it stops being fun #or the moment I start getting annoyed I'm outta here #miss me with those bad vibes #(also this is 100% not directed at you anon I'm just very sick of Twitter drama and cancel culture it's so dumb)#I'm just here for a laugh. that's it.#also I didn't realize you could add embeded links to asks now that's pretty cool #I could've phrased part of this as ''I'm not going to ignore my wellbeing for the sake of MCYT videos of all things''#but I also know this community has a habit of villainizing people for setting boundaries or saying no #:/#FAQ

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martinsmith01 · 10 months

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9 Creative Cricut Ideas for Christmas Gifts [2023]

Whenever Christmas arrives, I start making Cricut Christmas crafts and gifts a month in advance. I can’t stop myself from daydreaming about Christmas celebrations with my loved ones. This is the time when I begin brainstorming Cricut ideas for Christmas gifts.

Being a Cricut expert, I am often asked to create many different types of gifts on special occasions like Christmas. Last year, my own husband asked me for a custom T-shirt. In contrast, my children expected their gifts from their imaginary Santa.

Well, Santa couldn’t come to deliver gifts, so I took it upon myself to give them their favorite gifts. In short, I have made many Christmas projects so far, and I would like to share them with you so that you can get some ideas for making your own gifts. These gifts are simple to create using Cricut machines. Let’s take a look at Cricut gift ideas for Christmas.

1. Custom T-Shirt

Have a look at this black T-shirt with the phrase: I’M SO GOOD Santa CAME TWICE. This was the T-shirt I personalized for my husband. He was happy wearing this because he loves black color shirts and the phrase I added was also interesting. However, I made this shirt with Cricut Maker 3. For materials, I used Cricut iron-on vinyl. You can also try to make this T-shirt for your children and for someone you love.

2. Water Bottle

I don’t know when my obsession with these reusable water bottles will be over. Honestly, I love using these steel-reusable bottles. Whenever I go outside, I keep one with myself. Since I understand the importance of having a water bottle, I love to personalize it for someone I love. Hence, you must consider personalized bottles as the best Cricut ideas for Christmas gifts.

3. Paper Flowers

Paper flowers are my all-time favorite, and I love to make them every year. Most paper flowers I used to send as a gift. Plus, I made at least seven different colors of paper flowers. I used them to decorate my home and also gifted some to my friends.

These paper flowers were super easy to make using my Cricut Maker 3. Despite the Cricut Maker, you can also use other cutting machines such as the Cricut Explore series, and Joy.

4. Pillows

Well, there is one more thing I made last year, i.e., a pillow cover with simple phrases. This was not meant for a gift, but I used it as a home decor. This idea came to me after extensive research of Cricut ideas for Christmas gifts. Somehow, I found and made this possible. I always prefer simple and elegant home decor. Therefore, I kept it a little simple but colorful. Last but not least, I used heat transfer vinyl materials to add some creativity.

5. Xmas Tree Ornaments

If someone in your family is celebrating their first Christmas, including a newborn baby, then such ornaments are one of the best Cricut ideas for Christmas gifts. However, I crafted these two ornaments for my baby cousin in 2019. Since I made this in 2019, I added the year in the ornament. Further, you can also add the baby’s name if you want because personalization is something that will make it look unique to all.

6. Makeup Bag

In 2021, I made this personalized bag for makeup. I gifted this to my friend, who is a beautician. I knew she needed this always. So, I made something useful for her. Being a woman, I know how important it is to look confident in public. Hence, we always carry a bag with basic makeup stuff. Therefore, I made this beautiful makeup with eye-catching phrases. She was literally amazed to see the creativity I added to this bag. So, make this makeup bag and personalize it as per your choice.

7. DIY Wooden Spoons

Making gifts like wooden spoons using the cutting machine is super easy. You can also add the shiny adhesive vinyl along with the black & white checked ribbons. The purpose of making this gift was my friend. She wanted to gift this to her cousin. I was happily ready to make this because it was cheap and easy to make.

In addition to the supplies, I needed a Cricut machine, painter’s tape, expressions vinyl flame, a Design Space cut file, white chalky finish paint, a wide flat brush and glitter vinyl, and Transfer tape.

8. Monogram Gift Tags

I made this monogram of gift tags for all members of my family. I remember how I used my Cricut and created this monogram of gift tags. Making this was really exciting, and the final result was lovely. In contrast, these are reusable tags, so we don’t need to throw them away after one-time usage.

9. Personalized Santa Bags

Try this gift idea, and gift it to anyone, along with gifts. This Santa bag is the best gift for a family. However, you can fill this bag full of gifts for all members of the family. The main supplies I used in this project were a Cricut Maker, Cricut EasyPress 2, 12″ x 10″, Multiple Colors of Cricut Iron-on, Canvas Wine Bags, Cricut 12″ x 24″ Cutting Mat, Cricut Weeding Tools, and Oversized Canvas Bags. What are you waiting for? Just give it a try!

Final Words

Through this blog, I have added the top 9 Cricut ideas for Christmas gifts, such as Christmas T-shirts, water bottles, paper flowers, DIY pillows, baby’s first ornaments, and custom makeup bags. All these gift ideas I have shared in this blog were made last year or before that. Besides, I have also added the shirt ideas I made for my husband. However, being a craft enthusiast, I know how important it is to give something to someone so that they can feel special.

Source URL: Cricut ideas for Christmas gifts.

For More Information Visit: Cricut Maker 3.

cricut software appcricut.com/setup

Cricut Design Space

#Cricut Design Space #cricut.com/setup #cricut software app #cricut new machine setup #Cricut setup for windows and mac

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loveronlineee · 2 years

Text

The Little Things Part 1 (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Masterlist All Parts

Eddie Munson x Reader (She/Her)

Warnings: Swearing

Synopsis: Y/N is surprised when her classmate Eddie takes interest in her nail art stall. Did he really want his nails done or did he want something more?

Y/N notes: shorter than Eddie

Wanna be on the Eddie Munson tag list? Look here!

Wanna request something? Look here!

The school really didn’t do fundraisers enough. Especially considering the amount of shit that goes down in Hawkins. So when they finally announced that they were going to be raising money for the families that lost someone in the Starcourt Mall fire, Y/N was ready.

Students started getting in small groups to plan what activity they would do. Selling cookies and cupcakes, raffle tickets, face painting. Y/N decided on something a little different. She had always gotten compliments on her nails. She liked making simple patterns, adding gemstones or nail stickers. The girls in her classes were very excited when Y/N told them she was doing a nail art stall.

The day had been going well. Y/N had a constant line at her stall as the girls, and some guys lined up. It was getting near the end of the day when Eddie Munson sat down opposite her. The last in the line.

“Eddie?” Y/N said confused.

“Yeah.”

“You want me to do your nails?” Eddie smirked.

“Yeah.” He dropped his change into the charity bucket on the side of the table. Y/N was pleasantly surprised. Most students had a strong dislike of Eddie. He was weird and loud. But there was something about the guy’s energy that kept drawing Y/N in.

They had a couple classes together. In fact they sat next to each other in one of them which meant they had small conversations a couple times a week.

Over the year, Y/N had found that Eddie was quite different to the perception people had of him. For one, he was not scary at all. In fact he was quite jumpy. Y/N had lost count of the amount of times she had lightly tapped him on the shoulder and he had jumped out of his skin. It made her giggle every time.

“Jeez L/N you tryna kill me?”

“I just wanted to borrow your eraser.”

He was full of positive energy. It radiated off him in waves and infected the people around him. Yeah sometimes he took it a step too far but that was never his intention.

In reality, he was just a happy go lucky dork.

“You got a color in mind?” Y/N asked, organising the bottles. Eddie shrugged.

“I’ll let you chose. Go crazy, the fate of my nails are in your hands!” He said dramatically. Y/N chuckled.

“Okay then.” She picked up a pink bottle and began looking through her flowery stickers. The guys who had got their nails done as a joke all picked this stuff. Y/N looked back at Eddie’s hands. She noted the rings he wore. She then noticed he was wearing his club shirt. The logo contained a flaming sword and a flail.

Then Y/N got an idea. Her eyes widened in excitement and she put down the pink bottle and began sifting through the stuff she kept under the table.

“What’s with the sparkle in your eyes L/N? Should I be worried?” Eddie asked with a smile. Y/N pulled out a new pack of nail stickers and smiled back at him.

“Oh you’re gonna love it.” Eddie smiled wider. He loved her passion. He had noticed that Y/N loved organising little things. Her class notes were always neat and color coded. Her make up was simple but always looked good. Her locker had pictures of her friends and doodles arranged in the inside of the door. Whatever she had planned, he knew it was gonna be good.

After cleaning up his cuticles and adding a base, Y/N took a black nail polish and began painting over each nail. She placed her other hand underneath Eddie’s to steady him. Her hand moved more and more under his as she continued.

“You sure you’re not just doing this so you get to hold guys’ hands?” Eddie joked.

“How dare you think I have an ulterior motive Edward.” Y/N joked back. “How do I know you didn’t come here just so I would hold your hand?” Eddie didn’t reply, because she was completely correct. Well that and he just wanted an excuse to talk to her more. You can only say so much during a class where you’re supposed to be quiet. “Besides, I don’t need to trick a guy into holding my hand.”

“True. Very true.” Eddie agreed. He knew Y/N was quite popular. He often saw her hanging out with the athletes and the cheerleaders, many of which seemed interested in her. Yet she remained single, which kept Eddie hopeful.

Y/N finished with the black and began to open the new pack of nail stickers. Eddie watched as she looked through them all and picked out two. She smiled and showed them. A sword and a flail.

“How’d you feel about a Hellfire theme?”

“That is awesome.” Y/N beamed and began peeling the sword. She went to put it on his ring finger but at the last second changed to his middle finger. Eddie quirked an eyebrow.

“I remember how much you like flipping people off. It’ll be more impactful this way. Don’tcha think?” Eddie chuckled.

“You think of everything don’t you L/N?” Y/N shrugged.

“I try.” Y/N finished it off with some flames on the sword and a tiny red gemstone on each pinky finger. “Okay I think you’re done!”

Eddie lifted up his hands and admired the artwork.

“Y/N L/N you are a genius.” Y/N giggled.

“Y/N!” Jason had jogged over to her table. He glared at Eddie. “You okay?”

“Yeah Jason I’m fine thanks.”

“This punk giving you any trouble?”

“No Jason. I’m fine.” Y/N repeated, slightly annoyed.

“I’m on my best behaviour.” Eddie put his hands up innocently. “Y/N was just doing my nails. I think these ones are my favourite, don’t you agree?” He put his middle fingers in Jason’s face. Y/N tried to hide her laughter but to no avail. Jason looked at her shocked.

“Y/N!”

“Oh come on that was funny.” Y/N admitted. Eddie beamed. He loved when he could make her laugh. Jason huffed and walked away. “You gotta stop provoking him though.”

“I’ll stop when he stops.” Eddie stated. Y/N nodded.

“Fair enough.” She stood up. “Well looks like you’re my last customer.” Eddie stood up too.

“Need a hand packing?”

“Uh yeah actually- oh wait isn’t your club starting soon?” Eddie shrugged.

“I can be late. You’re more important.” The two began putting away all of the nail stuff in a box.

“Wow I must be pretty damn important then cause I know how much you love your club.” Y/N chuckled.

“Yeah well you’re one of the only people outside of Hellfire that’ll give me the time of day so…” Y/N stopped.

“I’m sorry. That must suck.” Eddie shrugged.

“You get used to it.”

“Yeah well I wish you didn’t have to get used to it.”

“…thanks.” Y/N picked up the box.

“Do you think you could take the bucket? I gotta drop it off in our math classroom.”

“Yeah sure.”

The pair walked down the hallway to the classroom. Y/N noted the other students giving her weird looks. “Like I said, you get used to it.” Eddie said. “But don’t commit social suicide just for me. It’s not worth it.” He brushed off, putting the bucket down next to the others in the room.

“Social suicide?” Y/N repeated as they head to the exit and out into the parking lot.

“Yeah it’s not worth it.”

“You mean… you’re not worth it?” Eddie paused before answering.

“Yeah.”

“Well I think that decision’s up to me.” Y/N stated. Eddie stopped in the middle of the parking lot. Y/N turned back around. She could see the surprise on his face. “What? You not gonna walk me to my car?” Eddie smiled and jogged to catch up.

He watched as she put her box of nail stuff in her back seat and closed the door. “Thanks for helping me.” She said as she walked to stand in front of him.

“No problem. Anytime.” Y/N looked up and smiled. He smiled back but narrowed his eyes. “What idea is your brain cooking up now L/N?”

“You ever tried eyeliner?”

“What?”

“Eyeliner. On your waterline.” Y/N pointed to her own on her face. “I think it’ll match your whole look.” Eddie smiled.

“You think?” Y/N reached up and pushed Eddie’s hair out his face.

“Yeah.” The pair heard a noise and turned to see some people coming out of the school. They were whispering and giving them dirty looks.

“See?” Eddie sighed. “You don’t wanna be seen with me. Not outside classes.” He took Y/N’s hands and lowered them down from his face.

“Again, Eddie. That’s up to me.” She leaned up and pecked him on the cheek. “I’ll see ya tomorrow yeah? I’ll bring my eyeliner.” She gave him a wink and got in her car.

Eddie watched as she drove away, frozen in place until she was out of site. He placed a hand on his chest and an arm stretched out to where Y/N has gone.

“Oh L/N you are full of surprises.” He walked back into school with a skip in his step.

He couldn’t wait to see her tomorrow.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #reader x Eddie Munson #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things season four #stranger things season 4 #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #reader x Steve harrington #steddie #st steddie

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spilledkauffie · 3 years

Text

Game Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Word Count: 2.2k T/W: fluff A/N: Part 2 of Bingo — a few months later

I am SO SORRY this took me way longer to post than it should have!

Bucky Tag List: @anreeixcobra ❤︎ @tsnelf7 ❤︎ @fandom-princess-forevermore

It was Friday night, which meant one thing: Game Night. Ever since Yori introduced you at Bingo, you made it a tradition in your relationship to play board games on Fridays. For the most part you kept it to fairly modern games, but tonight was going to be a surprise.

Tonight it was your place, 8 o’clock. Bucky showed up with a six pack of root-beer in glass bottles. You added a few to the fridge as he found his usual seat at your apartment table. He waited for you to round the small apartment’s bar and join him. Sliding the glass bottles across the table to Bucky, you smiled, biting in your bottom lip, as he slid your bottle back, now without its top.

Easily he popped the top off his own bottle with his left hand; it was as he was about to take a sip that he caught sight of your look, “what?” he furrowed his eyebrows, questionably.

“So. . . tonight,” you tried not to giggle.

“What?” Bucky asked again, this time finding himself following your smile despite his will not to.

“Tonight is going to be special,” you clasped your hands together, “because I found some stuff that’s as old as you.”

“Wow, thanks,” Bucky said sarcastically, taking a sip, shaking his head, blinking softly as he saw you rush to convince him it would be fun. Sighing deeply, he gave in, “alright, what is it?”

“I’ll be right back,” you twirled on your heel and left the room.

Returning to shaking his head and the glass bottle, he paused after settling the bottle on the table. It’d been a long time since anyone cared about anything actually as old as him. He’d been pretty good at keeping up with the times, a lot of things he knew just got an upgrade, but the thought of something from his actual childhood felt a little heartwarming.

“Okay,” you declared, reentering the room with a stack of vintage boxes in your arms that made Bucky lean back in his chair out of shock, “here we are.”

His jaw dropped a little at what you had brought out as you set the stack on the table. Watching you take a deep breath and exhale with a smirk, he shook his head, this time silently asking “how?” You set your hands atop the stack, rapping your fingers across the top box as you smiled again.

Smoothing your hands out across the box top, you cleared your throat, “no peeking,” bringing Bucky’s attention entirely to you.

“Option number one,” you held up the rectangular shape with severely faded letters across it, “Scrabble, released 1938.” The box very gently met the table, “option number two,” you looked at him attempting not to giggle as you saw him cross his arms over his chest, genuinely listening to you intently, “Sorry! released 1934, Battleship, original pen and paper game,” you clarified, he lifted his eyebrows, impressed, “and last but not least, Monopoly, released 1935.”

“Wow, you uh- you really did your research,” he commented, looking over the stack of authentically vintage boxes.

“Of course,” you shrugged with a smile, “my boyfriend’s 106, if I want to bring back some childhood nostalgia, that requires some research. . . and late hour ebay bidding in our case.”

He nodded, a faint smile showing, before it faded with his next words, “I hope you didn’t do too much research on me,” he looked up, hand resting on Monopoly.

You calmly slid down into the seat across from him and stared with a kind smile still on your lips, reaching to touch his hand, you stroked your thumb against his knuckles, “I’m more of a first hand account, direct source, kind of girl when it comes to people,” the corner of his mouth tugged into a smile.

You knew, just not everything, and he wasn’t sure he was prepared to have another living soul know it all quite yet. Luckily, you were someone who seemed to actually understand that.

“Or,” you announced, lifting a pointer finger, as if requesting a pause whilst you went to a nearby drawer, returning with a much smaller box, “we can get really really old school, even for you” the box met the table top, “standard 52 card deck, English edition, circa 1516. . .obviously not original.”

Bucky chuckled, looking to you, tonguing his cheek, before picking up the cards, “I hate to tell you, but that’s just a little before my time,” he squinted at you, teasingly.

Biting your lip, your shoulders shifted with the giggle that came after his comment, “so, come on,” you sat back down, this time with your elbows on the table and hands laced, to support your resting chin on top of them, “what should I beat your butt in?”

“Oh,” Bucky, attempting to appear insulted, began raising his eyebrows, “you think?”

“Yeah,” you laughed your words while looking at his serious face, “I think, better yet, I know.”

“Well, I don’t know where you get your confidence from. You know you are talking to a local senior Bingo night champion,” he shrugged with a head tilt, as if that was supposed to be a big deal.

“Woooow,” you drew out, smiling uncontrollably.

“But,” he sighed, “okay,” he shook his head once, accepting your challenge, “let’s go, you’re on! Monopoly,” he brought the box towards himself as you set the others on the floor next to your chair.

You watched as he picked up the little metal pieces, examining each one individually. There was an expression you’d never seen before, he was remembering something positive from his past. A memory that sparked a smile that you helped bring about. He surveyed the board, with all its bright colours and familiar street names.

“It’s been-” he paused, looking upward, doing the math in his head, “it’s been 85 years since I played this game,” setting each piece he stopped at the boat, laughing to himself, “you know, Steve used to always be the battleship.”

A soft smile came across your lips, while you watched him remember exactly how to set it up. You picked the Scottie dog and he picked the vintage race car piece.

“Were you always the race car?” you ventured, wanting to know more about his childhood, you knew he didn’t talk about it often.

“Oh,” he glanced to the piece he had just naturally picked up without a thought, “yeah, well, I think,” he gave a quick, but somber smile, before clearing his throat, and actually looking up, “and my sister, whenever she’d actually manage to get mom and dad to let her stay up with us, she’d always be the thimble,” he leaned back in his chair, smiling, “whenever it was her turn to move she’d put it on her finger and hop it down the street names.” He leaned back to the table, “we never made her go to jail, even if she landed on it, Steve would make up some rule that let her skip it.”

“That’s really sweet of you guys,” you said, looking softly at his smile.

“Yeah,” he swallowed, “but don’t think you can skip jail,” he changed his tone, preferring not to dwell on the past even if it was positive.

“Don’t think I’ll be visiting,” you smirk confidently, “better watch out for the money man yourself.”

“Wow, who is this?” he dropped his jaw, “she’s so sarcastic, does Yori know this side of you? Do you sneak jellybeans under the table or something evil like that?”

Laughing, you took your root-beer, “just give me my $1,500 so the smack down can actually begin.”

Two hours later, after a long battle between Boardwalk, control over the railroads, and many, many visits to jail, you sat back, lips quirked, arms across your chest as your little Scottie sat in jail.

“And three thousand, six hundred, and five. . . I’m sorry, but that leaves you,” Bucky set his elbows on the table, wincing at you, “bankrupt.”

“Fine,” you huffed jokingly, giving your best pout,“you win.”

“Aww, c’mon,” Bucky reached out a hand to touch your forearm comfortingly, accompanied by a smile you couldn’t deny.

“You wanna go again?” You offered seriously, resting your hand on top of his tenderly, happy to see him so happy.

“It was really fun, but let’s play something else, this time you pick,” he offered.

Breaking into a smile, you gave a nod, and he asked what you had in mind. It took a moment, you wanted to make this good, and you wanted to see it be a little more of a struggle for him, if you were honest.

“You know, I know it’s later than your. . .original timeline, but there’s this fantastic game called Twister,” you smirked, perking an eyebrow to ask if he was up for it.

“Twister?” He repeated you, tilting his head like a confused puppy, “what’s Twister?”

“I’ll show you, but,” you glanced over to your small apartment living room, “we might need to arrange the furniture a little.”

“Don’t worry,” Bucky stood, “I can handle that.”

Smiling, you stand, “okay, just push it all to one side, I’ll get the game.”

Ten minutes later, shoeless, you both stood looking over the polka dotted sheet on the floor. Nodding happily to yourself, Bucky shook his head almost in fear.

“Make sense?” You asked, having just explained the very simple rules, you turned to face him.

“Oh, I’m sorry I asked,” he sighed, shouldering off his jacket and tossing it onto the couch along with his glove, “yeah, it makes sense,” he set his hands on his hips, pondering this new game intently.

“Okay, you first,” you held up the spinning arrow, and began.

One hand and foot at a time, sometimes struggling to reach the spinner, but you both made it work pretty well. Having kept to one side of the sheet, it came time to get a smidge more twisted.

Bucky managed to keep balanced and spin a green dot with his left arm, conveniently it placed him right over you. As he began to reach for green, he carefully calculated how best to approach the green dot in order to keep his balance. It was a pretty far reach and he’d need to balance himself whilst reaching over you.

“What’s the matter old man, can’t quite move like you used to?” you shamelessly giggled.

Raising his eyebrows at your tone, “ohhh, wow,” Bucky said sincerely, finally placing his left arm over you and to a green dot, now above you he tilted his head sassily, “respect your elders.”

His last sentence only made your giggle turn into a genuine laugh. You closed your eyes and threw your head back a little. Admittedly, Bucky thought it was funny too, but he didn’t laugh, he just took in your smile and the sound of your laugh, enjoying every single moment of it.

When you brought your head back up, you were about to respond sassily, but instead you found his lips meeting yours. With a small squeak of surprise, you relaxed into the kiss, glad that he was finally confident enough with you to take a chance now and then. He tasted like vanilla root beer, which mixed wonderfully with the scent of his cologne you were finally close enough to smell.

It was soft and slow at first, but slowly, with his right hand palming the arch of your back, you eased into his touch, lower back almost meeting the floor as you both sunk down a little. You completely forgot about the game, as you reached your arms around his neck gently. Keeping the kiss close, you felt him hesitate to deepen it, so you gave him a small sign of encouragement, by moving your hand to the side of his neck, naturally bringing him even closer.

You had no idea how long you’d been there, on that polka dot sheet, but it was such bliss that you didn’t even care. Smiling into the kiss, you felt him smile back.

Parting, he pressed his forehead to yours, “I win,” he whispered, lips in a smile.

“What?” was all you could ask, still mesmerised by the kiss.

Bucky motioned his head to his left arm which happened to have been keeping the two of you steady. . . all the while remaining on the green dot. You dropped your arms from around his neck, to the floor, elbows supporting you as you looked up at him, shaking your head.

“That does not count, Bucky,” you tried not to smile as he kept his arm as still as possible.

“What? But my hand’s still on green,” he dramatically gestured to it, making you bite your lip to repress a giggle, trying to match his seriousness.

Shoving his chest directly above you, he feigned an ‘ow!’ before you softly pull him closer again.

“If I kiss you are you gonna hit me again?”

You smirk, “I might if you don’t.”

Bucky smiled, lips almost touching yours, “alright, sorry,” he smiled, voice almost a whisper as his lips brushed against yours, “I’m still learning the rules to this game.”

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harrysgoldenline · 3 years

Text

When In Italy Part 4

here is part 4! Um this chapter has bad words and some adult themes so warning for that! The next part will be the last, so let me know what you think! Are they end game or no? Also! If you want a personalized imagine, check out my pinned post! If you want to support me ---> please click here! every little bit helps bc im a broke ass college student so thank u to anyone who wants to support me :)

All comments and feedback are welcome and encouraged!! :)

WORD COUNT: 2.2K

You stood frozen as he stepped out of the elevator, his eyes soft as he met yours, waking towards you.

“Get away from me.” you whisper, attempting to push past him and get into the elevator, pressing the door closed button before even pressing a floor, not wanting him to get any closer.

“Y/N, wait!” he rushed, sticking his hand between the doors and stopping it, his tall frame standing before you that you quickly push past, going back to lock yourself in your apartment, and lock him out, “Please, let me explai-“

“No!” you stopped, voice firm as you turned to face him, “you can’t keep doing this! you can’t keep showing up like this! So just leave me alone.”

You kept walking, ignoring his pleas as he came after you, successfully unlocking your apartment door rapidly, but you catch a glimpse of rings as he hand stops the door.

“Please.” He whispered, not pushing the door open and you saw a flicker of his eyes and you could almost see the sincerity in them, “I know I don’t deserve it, I really don’t, but I would just love to talk to you for real this time, anything you want to know.”

“and you’re not gonna be an asshole this time?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe, peaking at him, “because if you are, I swear to god Styles I will give you 5 seconds to get the fuck out.”

“Promise.” He nodded and your heart believed him, so you opened the door.

You watched as he shoved his hands deep in his pockets, slowly entering your apartment and you didn’t miss how his eyes scanned you quickly, before bouncing around the apartment, looking around the space he used to be so familiar with.

You watched how he headed to the couch about to sit but stutter stepped a bit, scratching the back of his neck and looking at you, almost asking you if it’s okay if he sits down.

You gave him a soft smile and nod, tucking a loose hair behind your ear and sitting on one side of the couch, thankful he sat on the other, giving you each plenty of space as your eyes met. The tension was slowly rising, looking at each other as you sat, wondering who was going to break the silence.

“I never meant for anything to happen.” he whispered, his head falling as a shameful look covered his face, avoiding your eyes, “After the breakup… I- I was just lost. I was messing up at work and I just was doing shit. Then, it was like only like a month ago, I was getting drunk all the time and she just came into my trailer and we were talking and then she kissed me.”

You just nodded, biting your bottom lip and picking at your nails, peaking up and looking at him, your glossy eyes meeting his bloodshot ones, not really having anything to say in response.

“And I just…” he started, “I wanted to feel better, feel anything. So, we just started hanging out more and I just really wanted to feel something, feel a connection. So we took a trip to Italy because… It’s always been a place that made me feel better and then…”

“Yeah.” you chuckled, “and then… Why did you bring her to our house? I know we haven’t talked about that kind of stuff, but it’s mine too Harry and… just seeing you two there? I never felt more replaceable than I did when I saw you two.”

“Oh love, no.” He whispered, scooting closer to you, a hand coming up to cup your face to help your eyes meet, but he retracted it back before he made contact with your skin, “I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry and I will never be able to prove to you, but that was never my intention to ever hurt you. The breakup was a mistake.”

“I… How am I supposed to believe that?” you squeaked, voice cracking as the barrier breaks, tears falling on your cheeks as you looked up at him, “We we’re together for years and you just- I mean fuck Harry! I haven’t even thought about even starting to flirt with someone and you’re…”

“We’ve never had sex,” He quietly added cheeks turning a bit red, “or done anything like that. At all, I just… couldn’t.”

Your eyes widen a bit at the confession, watching as he looked at his hands, a slight twinge of embarrassment on his features.

“Oh.” you whispered, “I know I shouldn’t be mad, we… we aren’t together and you have have the right to do whatever you want but it’s just… hard. Especially when I wasn’t expecting it. I went to Italy to try and get away, everything in the city makes me think of you, I don’t know why I thought staying at the house would be any better but, I just wanted to get away.”

“Sorry I ruined your trip.”

“Sorry I ruined your hookups.”

He let out a laugh, the smile staying a bit longer when he noticed you had subconsciously scooted a bit closer to him.

“It’s not like I ever really wanted to… Even little Harry only wants you.” he flirted and an instant, loud laugh leaves your lips, leaning forward and your brace yourself on his shoulder, a simple thing you had done over the years countless times, but still made his heart skip a beat.

“Oh my god,” you said between breathless laughs, your bodies now less then a foot apart as you smiled up at him, “please do not call it little Harry!”

“What do you prefer?” He smirked, “rather I call it bi-“

“What the fuck?” a voice spoke suddenly, both of your red eyes going to your front door and seeing your best friend standing their, her eyes wide in a mix of confusion and anger. Your hand retracted from his body quickly, your best friend looking at you with soft eyes, her eyes darting over to Harry’s and you see the fiery anger behind them, “Y/N, please tell me he was getting whatever shit he left behind and is leaving.”

“We were just talking.” You started, glancing over at Harry, seeing a bit of fear behind his eyes and your lips quirked up in a smile that quickly faded seeing the anger in y/bff/n eyes.

“What do you want to talk to him about? How he broke your heart again?” She asked, confusion and concern laced in her voice, “I’m sorry, y/n, I just… I can’t watch you go through all of it all over again and again.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he quickly stood up beside you giving you a quick nod as he glanced over at y/bff/n the back at you, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just showed up. It was so good to see you, y/n, I’ll get out of your way.”

“Harry, wait!” you stood up, hating the softening in your voice, “I want to talk more… are you staying or do you have to go back to L.A?”

“I’ll be here as long as you need me. And if you want me gone, I’ll book my flight. Okay? It’s up to you, whatever you want.”

“Okay… Can I call you later?”

“You can call me anytime, I’ll pick up.”

***

Y/bff/n definitely wasn’t thrilled with you.

“I just feel like this is a bad idea, y/n!” She had exclaimed once Harry had left your apartment, “He’s gonna hurt you again! What could he possibly want?”

“I dont know, I just… I dont know.” You sighed, sitting across from her on your couch just like you did with him, “I love him and I don’t know what’s going to happen but I don’t want to end up hating him.”

She nodded, looking at you as your eyes glazed over again, “Hey, okay, I’m sorry. I just don’t want you upset. Do you still wanna go try this new place or just hang out here? Let’s get your mind off of everything, you need a break, yeah? Especially if you’re going to talk to him later.”

“Do you think I should?"

“If that’s what you think, I think you should. You know him.” She nods, “but I swear to god if he makes you cry again he’ll have to deal with me.”

So now, here you were, waiting on him to come back to finish your talk from earlier. It was helpful hanging out with y/bff/n, listening to her advice as she gave you a bit of the reality check that you needed, making sure he won’t sweep you off your feet with his familiar charm.

Your heart rate never fully calmed down as you waited for him to come back to your apartment after y/bff/n dropped you back off after your afternoon together and you were glad for the few hours of a distraction, but now your mind was fully occupied with him once again as you sat on your couch.

The knock on your door caused you to jump, hoping up and checking your appearance in your hall mirror before swinging open the door, seeing Harry standing their with a bouquet of flowers, a small smile on his face.

“Got these for you,” he began, “shoulda showed up with them when I kinda crashed into you earlier… but I was so nervous I didn’t think about it, honestly.”

“Thank you.” You softly replied, eyeing up at him and taking them from his grip, letting out a shaky breath as you welcome him in and turn on your heel, going to your kitchen to place them into a vase quickly before going back to him, seeing him in the same spot you two were sitting in earlier.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry again… and thank you for letting me come back and talk to you at all, really don’t deserve your time, but I’m thankful for it.” He began, eyes glued onto yours as he scooted closer to you when you sat down, his fingers tentatively trailing on your arm before laying his hand on your own, “I… I want you back, y/n. I want to be with you, I never stopped wanting just you.”

“Harry, I… I don’t know what to say.” You started, “I just… there’s so much still up in the air and it’s all happening so fast. Are you still with Olivia?”

“No, of course not.” He instantly answered, “we were never anything real, I left Italy when I went to the house and you were gone. I came back here and I just… I would sit outside your building in my car and just try and get the nerve to walk in to talk to you, but I was so scared of you telling me to leave again.” Harry started deep into your eyes as he continued, his own welling up with tears, “I love you so much and I was such an idiot and fuck baby… I’ll do anything to prove it you.”

Now, you two were just inches apart, his hand cupping your cheek as you leaned into it, eyes glued onto his eyes as both of your gazes were glassy, sets of eyes wandering down to one another’s lips. Your eyes fluttered up and looked at him, his nose nudging into yours, seeming to test the boundary and you simply nodded, causing him to connect your lips in an instant.

Your lips met softly, gaining speed as the passion overflowed you both as the familiar move came back easier than either of you could have imagined. You both moaned into one another’s mouths, his tongue quickly sliding past your lips as your crawled onto his lap, fingers gripping the soft material of his shirt.

Things escalated quickly as he carried you into your bedroom, body hovering over yours as his body pressed against yours, the articles of clothing disappearing piece by piece, lips never separating a second longer than they had to you as you refamilarized yourselves with one another.

His fingers dug their way into your waist as he kissed you harder, singular pieces of thin material being the only things separating you and as Harrys fingers slipped down, pulling back and looking up at you for permission, your breath caught in your throat, reality hitting you like a wave.

“I can’t do this.” You whispered, fingers removing themselves from his hair as you covered your face, voice wavering as tears welled up in your eyes once again, “I-it’s all too much, too fast- I-I, I don’t think I can do this, Harry- I can’t.”

“Fuck, it’s okay.” He whispered, crawling off from on top of you, scrambling to pick his t shirt off the floor and handing to you, quickly covering your body with it, “Fuck, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

You nodded quickly, knees tucking into your chest as you let out soft cries, flinching as his arm came around you, going to comfort you with the soft stroke of his arm and retracted it quickly after seeing your reaction.

“I-I… I just keep seeing you and her in my head.” You whispered, “…I don’t know if I can do this.”

#harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles masterlist #harry styles series #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles headcannon #harry styles fanfic #bucky barnes

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boozye · 3 years

Note

Hey Hey Hey! Doing a fun little ask game for all my fave Obey me MC‘s! I’d love to hear more about them!

•What would your MC‘s surprise guest favourite food be?

•If your MC was locked out the house, what what they do/ who would they call?

•Which characters TV/ Book recommendations would you try?

•If your MC could stay at the Castle or the Purgatory hall, which would they pick?

•What ‚piece of home‘ would your MC bring to the HOL? (eg regular board game nights or disallowing shoes in the house)

I saw you’re taking a break from answering asks but I didn’t know if that meant you didn’t wanna be sent any so I’ll take no Offenes at this being deleted lmao, I love Dani and your interactions with other blogs are so funny! Truly an icon for the ‚more tired of this shit‘ OM players xx

Good questions, let's see!

- From the existing ones, the coffee or the Blue Lagoon. If a new one specifically for them was added, it'd be a Martini, a White Russian... or maybe a Matcha flavored treat.

- They'd just text Lucifer after making absolutely sure they do not have the keys. If he can't help, he probably knows who can.

- None. Not because I do not want to. I'm just bad at watching stuff, don't have that kind of energy. And I know it's weird and sounds douchey but the more hype I see for shows, the less I want to watch them? I don't know there's just something exhausting for me mentally about hype. So I'd watch whoevers suggestion who can be arsed to sit and watch it with me. It's the only way I can watch stuff, being dragged into it.

- The castle. Why is simple. It is the biggest. Easy to get lost in, and to lose people in (well except Barbatos but he is justified, it is his turf). Even in a party there would be dozens of empty rooms away from it. Dani would be overjoyed to grow familiar with the halls and corridors enough to navigate them with ease. There is also lots of art to observe and appreciate. Not just the paintings but the pillars, statues, the carved doors, stained glass windows, lovingly kept antique furniture, ancient weapons, etcetera. And they just really enjoy being able to observe them from up close (basically it is the richest enclosure, literally, for this fucking gremlin)

- I can't think of anything but I do know one thing they could bring from their home by accident... You see, Dani comes from a place where a normal greeting, even to someone you have JUST MET, regardless of how you feel about them, is a mutual kiss on the left cheek. I imagine if they just keep dragging Dani down to hell impromptu like that. They would end up slipping eventually and doing it subconciously, oops. (can you imagine the scenarios? hehe)

Thank you!! I am thrilled you like the silly ramblings I share here 😊💕

#boozye did #boozye writ

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tokoyamisstuff · 3 years

Text

Meant To Be - Loki x Fem! Reader

Summary: Much to your displeasure, your parents have promised you away to the God of Mischief of all people.

Tags: Arranged Marriage AU, Light Elf! Reader

Warnings: Aside from Loki hating himself, nothing.

Words: 2878

I Masterlist I

A/N: Some good old-fashioned, ‘redeemed after The Avengers and the other movies didn’t happen’ Loki. Like, really cheesy, self-indulgent 2012 stuff. I just want to ignore all misery that happens in the series okay?

“Ew! Stop it!”

You were eight at the time when you and Loki first met, by means of negotiation between both your parents.

If only you knew that this encounter should be the first impression of what should be your husband in the near future...

Frigga and Odin could only plead for their son to be on his best behavior - but well, it’s the God of Mischief we’re talking about. Must be hard to inherit such a title from your very birth.

Just when you put the little bonquet of flowers he had picked up for you towards your face to admire it, several little spiders emerged from the blossoms.

“You’re no fun.” The raven-haired boy stood a safe distance away from you, arms crossed as his gleeful laughter turned into a broad sulk. "And your ears are weird.”

“I hate you!” you screeched in your childish rage, throwing the flowers to the ground and trampling onto them. “Where’s your brother? Thor is way nicer than you!”

“Well, why don’t you marry him then?!” he mocked to cover up his hurt pride, picking up a handful of dirt and throwing it in your direction.

“I don’t need any friends anyway...” the little boy whispered to himself, running away from the scene with tears filling the corner of his eyes.

“I don’t need anyone. I’m way better than all of them!”

Not even Frigga was fast enough to catch up with him, while Odin uttered some fake apologies to your parents, promising them that everything will go as planned.

You on the other hand were running towards your mother, tightly grabbing onto her dress. “He’s mean! I wanna go home!”

As Queen of the Light Elves, your mother was a being full of grace and composure - and you were hoping to one day become such a formidable person as well.

She bowed down to your height, petting your hair as you rubbed the mixture of tears and dirt from your cheeks. Just her bright smile alone would sometimes be enough to make you forget about your worries - but not today.

“My sweet child” she cooed, cradling you in her arms. “One day you’ll understand.”

However, this would be the last time you paid Asgard a visit - at least until now. Because no matter how deeply you wished to never meet him again, the words your mother spoke on that day haunted you all those years:

“For this is your duty as a princess.”

[Present Day - Asgard]

It felt so unreal when you stuck your head outside of the wooden carriage, the wind playing with your hair as your glare wandered over the rainbow bridge you were crossing.

Silence strained the air, your parents unable to do even so much as look into your eyes. Hel, how you wished this was only a dream.

Behind you was a whole company of Light Elves, transporting all of your belongings to what should be your homecountry from now on.

Now there was no way back, that much was sure.

You were supposed to meet your soon-to-be husband on that very same day, one day before your wedding to be precize.

One could only guess why you weren’t allowed to visit Asgard again for all those years, even though you were practically born just for this reason - for this person.

To become Loki’s bride was your involuntary purpose, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be truly free.

Maybe your parents thought the God of Mischief to have a bad influence on their growing daughter, pulling you into his harmless yet dishonorable schemes. Or they simply feared you to refuse marrying said man if you got to know him better, finding out just what kind of person you were promised to.

Not that your parents were pleased either...everyone in the Nine Realms knew the stories.

To Odin, there was no point in hiding the disgrace his adoptive son had brought over Asgard. Not only was he responsible for an attack on Midgard, sacrificing thousands of lives for his own sake, drunken by greed for power.

But all of you were shocked to hear that Loki Odinson - or rather Laufeyson - was never Asgardian to begin with.

A Frost Giant.

Among your kind, they were known to be one of the most terrible abominations in the nine realms, and murderer of countless of your kind - and this should be the father to your future children?

Only thinking about this cruel twist of fate made you want to vomit...

So why did you agree to proceed with the preparations as if nothing had happened? How in Alfheim’s name could you reject their offer to wed you to Thor instead of that lunatic?

Was it that through your upbringing and royal duties, you had lost your own free will? Or simply fear of stepping aside the path that everyone had prepared for you?

It was probably the fact that you didn’t want to get into true love’s way...you and Thor stayed in brief contact through Heimdall, and you just knew how much that human girl meant to him.

You were kinda jealous, though...the concept of being in love was foreign to you, having a vague idea of it from novels only. But real life just wasn’t meant to be that was, was it?

You couldn’t escape your fate, that was what it was - for this treaty would unite both kingdoms, bringing peace and wealth for all of their inhabitants.

No way you could be so selfish as to decline...even if it meant you had to suffer for the rest of your life.

“My Ladyship, we have arrived!” a guard spoke as he knocked on the carriage door, with your parents hinting that you needed to step out first.

The very same guard now yelled from the pit of his lungs, making you feel the whole Kingdom of Asgard could hear. “Now arriving: Lady Y/N Y/L/N, eldest Princess of Alfheim and heir to the throne.”

You heared the people whispering as you took your first, insecure steps, blinded by the bright daylight.

“She’s so pale, like ice” or “Why are her ears like that?” were rather nice comments compared to others plainly calling you ugly, scary or a ‘disgrace’.

Of course your Kingdoms had been in a war for several decades, but this was long in the past - before your very birth, even. So what’s the reason you should bear with such hostility in the place everyone expected you to call ‘home’ from now on?

One thing was clear from the very beginning: You would never belong here.

“May I?” a dark, husky voice interrupted your self-pitying. You blinked heavily, still trying to adjust to all those golden surroundings, until your blurry vision finally cleared up.

“C’mon.” The voice belonged to the man in front of you, looking gravely nervous with sweat dripping from his forehead. He was reaching out a hand for you to take, and you gladly accepted since you didn’t want to embarass yourself further by falling out of the carriage.

And still, you managed to somehow miss a step and fall right into his arms. “Oh my, so clumsy” the man snickered as he catched you, clearing his throat as you grabbed onto his chest to regain balance. "Not very graceful for someone of your status.”

“And you are-” The words got stuck in your throat when you stared back into those eyes, their emerald green awaking memories you’d rather forgotten entirely. “L-Loki!”

“Exactly, my dear. The one and only.” Smooth and calm, he pecked a kiss on the back of your hand, andyou couldn’t help but admire just how well he had aged: His wild locks were combed back, sharp features complimenting his face as he tried his best to give you his most innocent smile.

Yet you kept your guard up, always expecting him to somehow embarass you just for the fun of it. “When it comes to him, always expect the unexpected” Thor once warned you, and you won’t forget about it that easily.

“It’s a pleasure finally meeting you” was your firm declaration, only to be rewarded with a scoff. “You are speaking to the God of Lies, Lady Y/N - there is no use in trying to deceive me” he whispered into your ear, making you shiver in unpleasant anticipation.

“Carry her belongings to my rooms” he dismissed the servants with a simple gesture of his hand, offering his other arm for you to cling on as he escorted you through the palace.

The giant halls were almost empty, nothing like back on Alfheim where you and your brethren would enjoy each other’s company in midst of nature. A sole tear escaped your eye when you thought back to those carefree days, which are now over.

“Are you alright, m’lady?” Much to your surprise, your fiancé sounded honestly concerned about your well-being. “If you are tired, we can postpone our tour of the palace until you’ve rested.”

“May I speak from the heart?” You gulped after finishing that sentence, scaring yourself with all the stories you’ve heared about this mad troublemaker.

Somehow you had the feeling that if you were to overstep your boundaries with that brute, it would have consequences beyond your imagination. He might seem generous and polite right this moment, but what would someone like him do if you enrage him? Countless images were circling in your head, one worse than the other.

Loki furrowed his brows, exhalinge deeply. For him, your expression was an open book to what you were thinking right now.

“Y/N, my dear Lady, if you want it or not: Starting tomorrow, we share a bond. I am deeply sorry that a veritable flower as you are had to end up with someone like me, but I promise to treat you as well as possible.”

Turning around so you’d not detect how it hurt him to speak from the heart, he added with a shaky voice “Yet there is no reason for you to hold back your hatred for me. No harm will come your way, I swear upon the little honor I have left.”

Even though his words made you feel a deep sympathy with the god, you weren’t quite sure if you could decipher truth or deceit in them. Maybe he just wanted to lure you into saying what you truly thought of him?

He’s right - you will have to spend the rest of your life with him, so don’t mess this up from the very start!

“I-I don’t hate you!” was the first thing you blurted out, grabbing onto his cloak. Loki turned around, rising his eyebrow as he scanned your face for any hint of a lie.

Althrough it was the truth, at least to a certain extend. You’ve seen each other only once, when you were still little. The rest is all tales and rumours, but you personally don’t have a reason to despise him.

There was no way you could promise to accept his past or heritage, let alone forgive him - yet as long as he’d treat you with respect, you’d return the favour.

“T-There’s just a question on my mind this whole time...aren’t you mad? I-I mean someone like- well...like you...” you gestured around awkardly, almost making him crack a smile. “I mean...I thought you wouldn’t let your parents dictate your life.”

Another deep sigh escaping his mouth, this times with his eyes closed. “This isn’t about Asgard or my adoptive parents. I choose my own path.”

Suddenly, Loki wrapped one arm around you, flicking his fingers with the free one.

“Hold onto me” he ordered indifferent as he casted his spell, teleporting both of you away before you could even comprehend, let alone ask him what he was doing.

It happened in the fraction of a second, yet felt like hovering through an empty space for an eternity.

“Now open your eyes.” You hadn’t even realized that you squeezed them shut during the shift, slowly opening them while Loki lifted your chin with his index finger.

The environment was magnificent. Had you ever seen something this beautiful in your whole life?

Obviously you had no clue where you were, but this was the first time seeing so much untouched nature on Asgard. There were flowers blooming in all colours imagineable, clear rivers crossing the lands in between grassy hills, and animals nearby a small forrest.

“It’s not like I didn’t educate myself about the Light Elves and their way of living” Loki stammered, unconsciously intertwining your fingers with yours as he watched you admiring the view. “So I could make you comfortable here, I mean.”

He plummeted down on the grass, still a little wet from the morning dew, and gestured for you to do the same. It was weird, actually, but also somehow adorable - how the infamous ‘Silver Tongue’ had lost his ability with words. “I’ve done very little right in my life full of wrongs. Hurt a lot of people.”

“Mmmhh” you hummed approvingly, not knowing what else to say - yet for some reason, you didn’t let go off of his hand, squeezing it ever so slightly.

“And even though I can’t possibly redeem myself, I wish to change for the better.” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. “I just never knew how to start.”

Loki Odinson really was full of surprises. He was nothing like the child you’ve met long ago, and the complete opposite of what you imagined the ‘God of Mischief’ to be.

You had expected a power-hungry, selfish and cruel man to wed you - and yet there he was: Insecure and broken, only a shell of the person he once was.

Just what had you missed all those years? What things happened to break someone’s will like this?

And was he truly beyond repair?

“Those past weeks, I have visited Alfheim more times than you could comprehend” he giggled nervously, avoiding your eyes. “Concealed, of course.”

Well, that sounded kind of weird, but you knew better than to talk someone down who was just opening up to you. So your sole answer was “What for?”

“There was no way a criminal like me would still be seemed fit for this ceremony - and yet I was given this chance anyway. My mother told me that it was you who insisted on carrying on the arrangement, so...I just wanted to know what person would be willingly ruin their life.”

Something different was shining through the god’s orbs, and you couldn’t quite decipher it. Was it hope? Hope, that if you had given him a chance, his life could lead into a different direction? To change himself from the burden that was his birth title?

“I-I guess I don’t want to mess this up like I always do” he whimpered barely audible, before staring at you in shock and embarassment. Until now, he hadn’t realized just how vulnerable he made himself.

Just what the hell would you think about him now? You probably had lost any respect, or thought himself to be crazy. How weak...

So he was quick to put on the confident facade again, wearing his smug grin as if that all was just part of a big joke only he’d understand. But even though you barely knew him, he couldn’t fool you.

“Sometimes it’s enough just to try.” Your head turned from the sight of nature to your fiancé and back several times, before you brought up the courage and put a hand on his shoulder, whispering “So you can’t really mess this up.”

“Gladly you don’t seem to know yet just how much misery I cause.” He kept that thought to himself, to not scare you away.

“I am aware that you could never love someone like me, Y/N. But I can provide for you, dedicate myself to making you content with being my wife. My newfound purpose.”

The purpose of a war criminal - that sure put yourself under a lot of pressure. And still, it made you somewhat proud, and grateful as well. Because it was the first time someone valued you as a person, and not the princess of Alfheim.

Unaware of how much time had passed, both of you would get used to each other’s presence in silence, enjoying the nature while you processed this eventful day.

Exhausted from the long travel and all that rollercoaster of emotion, you soon found yourself dazzling into sleep onto Loki’s shoulder. If only you could see him adore you, staring in awe that someone could actually feel so safe in his presence.

Carefully, the god picked you up, gently lifting you on his arms to make your way back to the palace, where everyone was frantically searching for both of you. Well, Loki was used to trouble - but right now, it was worth it.

May it be right or wrong, and even though you couldn’t explain this sentiment, you had a good feeling when it came to the things that were just about to come.

“You won’t regret your decision, Y/N Y/L/N. On my side, I assure you a bright future.”

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason #Loki/Reader #Loki/You #Self Insert #Fanfiction #Arranged Marriage #Writing #Marvel #Asgard

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the-cult-of-russo · 3 years

Text

Hues of Gold

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Request : do a billy russo x reader with the reader having an art job and them meeting due to that somehow

Warnings: none

A/N: Here it is, my first Billy x Reader. I'll be getting to the prompts in my inbox too but still feel free to send me more requests. You don't need to pick from the prompt lists, if you have an idea then just send it on over. Nothing is off limits and I write for every type of Billy. S1 Billy, S2 Billy, pre-show Billy, all the AU Billy's you can think of lmao Gimme them all.

You tilted your head a little, eyes sweeping across the paint on the easel in front of you. The piece was coming together nicely. You'd started at humble beginnings with your artwork as a street artist. You hadn't been able to afford art school and you didn't feel like people needed to if they just felt it. And you did. You'd been a hit with your expressionist art and before you knew it, you were getting wealthy clients and more money. Now you had your own little studio with an apartment on top. It wasn't flashy but it was yours and you loved it. The work you thought was good enough for your new clients would go up on your website, they'd buy them and then you'd send them off to their new home. It was simple and you got to spend every day painting to your heart's content.

You bit your lip as you mixed two golds together to get the perfect shade you were after. Some of your pieces were weirder than others, others being more realistic or using average colors. Some of them were darker in theme or used more vibrant colors with looser shapes. It was all dependent on how you felt when making it. The one currently being worked on wasn't finished by any means. Oil paint often required many layers and getting it to dry in between time. But if someone was to gauge your mood by this one, well… they'd say you were most likely sexually frustrated. It was a naked woman laying on her back on rumpled sheets, just her torso and a bit of her leg to leave the rest to the imagination. Her male counterpart was pressed up against her as the bodies melded together, his hand gripping her thigh. The colors you'd picked for this were hues of red, orange, yellow and gold, making it look like the couple were set ablaze. The epitome of passion. It was coming along nicely.

Your work cell rang breaking you from your thoughts. You gave your hand a quick wipe on the ratty towel next to you as you picked it up, answering with your full name.

"Hi, I'm lookin' for some art and I've heard you're the girl to go to," a smooth voice came through the phone. The fact that someone recommended this guy to you made you smile. It always did. It meant people were pleased with your work.

"I am. Have you checked the website? That's where my current pieces are," you murmured softly.

"I did but… I haven't really found the one yet. And a friend of mine tells me you've got a bunch of exclusive stuff at your studio," he replied.

You glanced around your studio. He wasn't wrong entirely although you wouldn't call them exclusives. You'd call them rejects if you were honest. Your new clientele were more demanding and it made you second guess your pieces more often than you'd like to admit. This led to many of them finding a home in your studio instead. You were unsure who the man's friend was as typically you didn't have people come to the studio. It was a very rare occurrence and you couldn't imagine him being interested in any of these pieces. But a customer was a customer.

"You're more than welcome to come down and look at them. I'm not sure you'll find what you're looking for though, I've kept them offline because they're in the reject pile," you snorted wryly. His smooth chuckle was soothing as it hit your ears and you nibbled on your lower lip.

"Well I'll be the judge of that," you didn't know what he looked like but you could hear the smirk in his voice. You told him the address before hanging up.

You were a little nervous of someone coming into your space and judging the art you'd already deemed not worth putting up for sale, but you decided to roll with it. It was too late now and it wouldn't be a good look for your business to tell the guy he couldn't come. You decided to continue the piece you were working on to keep your mind occupied, having no idea just when the man would decide to show, or if he would at all.

It was an hour later when the large wooden door knocked and you called out that it was open. You stood up and wiped your hands on the towel again, not that it helped much. You were sure you had paint on every part of you, it was half the fun of making art. The man walked in and you were a little surprised by just how handsome he was. He was dressed to the nines in a suit with his hair slicked back, the sides shorter than the top. He certainly looked like your usual clients but you couldn't remember any of your fancier clients ever bothering to call you, never mind actually coming to see your other pieces.

The smile he shot you was disarming and you replied in kind as you walked over to him. You reached out your hand to shake with his before retracting it rapidly when you noticed just how much of a poor job the towel had done. He seemed amused if his chuckle was anything to go by and you snorted.

"Uh… welcome. Feel free to look around. I haven't really got prices for these since I wasn't gonna sell them so I'll settle for whatever," you shrugged with a smile. Anything was better than nothing that you were getting by keeping them here. Besides, you were pretty sure he wouldn't even like any of them.

You didn't want to crowd him as he looked around so you went right back to your easel and sat on the stool. He walked around leisurely, stopping at each piece and looking at them. Your eyes kept flitting to him without meaning to, you weren't sure if it was how attractive he was or the nerves of having someone assessing your work this way. Maybe both. He didn't strike you as an art kind of guy honestly. Most of the rich clients weren't, they just wanted a statement piece for their walls for people to talk about. There wasn't anything wrong with that of course, but you'd be a liar if you said you didn't miss it back as a street artist when people bought a piece simply because it spoke to them and they loved it. Onwards and upwards though, right?

"So… who's the friend? That told you I had stuff here?" You asked after a moment, unable not to because your curiosity was getting the better of you. He glanced over at you from where he stood and smiled.

"Curtis," he replied. Your eyebrows raised a little with that information. You'd met Curtis back when you were a street artist and he bought something for the group he was running. He was a nice guy and he checked in every so often with you. You wouldn't say you were friends but you really liked him and you had some good conversations. You couldn't imagine Curtis being friends with this man though.

Noticing the shock on your face, the man chuckled.

"We served together when I was in the marines. He's a good guy, one of my closest friends," he supplied.

"You were a marine?" You hadn't meant to ask like it was such an absurd notion but it came out anyway. You just hadn't expected it He looked amused though and he nodded.

"Yeah. When I got out I set up my own private military firm, ex military people with no purpose. I give 'em somethin' to fight for. A brotherhood. We're doin' pretty well," he had a bright smile on his face, gesturing to his suit when he said they were doing well and you found yourself smiling back.

"You must be really proud. It's amazing that you're doing that for them. I mean… I never served or anything but Curtis tells me about some of the guys from his group sometimes. I bet you really help them," you said sincerely. You had no clue what it must be like to serve and you knew you didn't have the stomach for it. But some of the things Curtis had told you had made you sad and you were impressed that the man had set up something like this on his own. Something to help others just like him. He shot you another smile before going back to looking at the artwork and you couldn't take your eyes off him.

Figuring he'd catch you looking at him, you forced yourself to focus on adding more gold to the art you were working on. You weren't sure how long had passed until he spoke again and it startled you. You'd almost forgotten he was there.

"This one is… interesting. I like this one," he mused, eyes on the work on your easel as he stood beside you. Your cheeks tinged a little pink at the phrasing he used but you recovered quickly.

"Thanks. I like this one too but… it won't end up on the website. The last erotic piece I put on there apparently offended people," you said with a wry grin. He laughed, the sound low and short but his eyes went to you then. Holy shit, his eyes are… wow.

"Well it definitely doesn't offend me. How long will it take to finish?" He asked as his obsidian orbs went back to the painting.

"A couple of days at most. It's almost done and then it needs to dry and be sealed," it was nice talking about your work with someone, even as mundane as when it would be complete. You missed that interaction since you got the studio.

"I'll take it. How much?" he flashed you a smile that made your stomach flip around on you and you bit your lip with a smile back.

"That's up to you," you shrugged. You never bothered putting prices on pieces you knew you wouldn't sell and you hadn't expected to sell this piece. Even the prices on the website felt too much for you but it was born from the first wealthy clients and what they thought your pieces were worth. You just rolled with it, it wasn't like they'd miss it, right?

He hummed, the sound deep in his throat as he got out his wallet. You mused he must want it mailed to him when it was done for him to pay now rather than later but you were happy it was cash and not card. He handed you some bills and you counted it quickly, eyes widening as you blinked up at him.

"I can't take this. This is more than the pieces online," you frowned, holding out the money back to him. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, shrugging his shoulders.

"You said it was up to me," he replied with an easy smirk. Would you really sit there and argue with him about getting more money for it? No. But you were shocked he thought it was worth that much.

"I… thank you, sir," you smiled, stuffing the money into your pocket.

"Billy," he clarified, smirk still in place.

"Billy," you corrected with a shy smile. Something glittered in his dark eyes as you tested the sound of his name and he raked his teeth over his lower lip. Despite the fact you'd already given him your full name on the phone, you gave him your first name again and he mimicked you as he tested it out. Why did it sound so good coming from his mouth?

You cleared your throat, his intense stare was getting a little too much and you stood, walking over to the big table against the wall, grabbing a pen and pad.

"You can leave your details, I can mail it to you when it's done," you handed them to him and he twirled the pen around in his long fingers with ease.

"I'll leave my number. I'd like to come pick it up when it's done, if that's okay?" He asked as he scribbled his name and digits down.

"Are you sure? It's not an issue shipping it out," you replied as he passed you back the pen and pad.

"I'm sure. It gives me an excuse to see you again," he smirked, dark eyes boring into yours as your cheeks turned pink. He chuckled and with that he was out the door and you were left stood there gaping where he went. Did he really just…?

You stood there a moment longer, a smile working its way onto your face before you shook your head and sat back down at your easel. You glanced at the painting before setting to work and getting it finished. You couldn't wait for it to be done so Billy would come back. He was intriguing and you found yourself thinking of him as you continued your work.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher

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myhockeyworld87 · 3 years

Text

What Happens In Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There - Jacob Markstrom - Part 5

Word Count: 6,353

POV: Reader

Warning: Language, Smut, NSFW, Pregnancy stuff

Notes: Sorry I meant to post this last night, but that game left me barely able to function. As such, you are getting this today. This fic takes place during the 2018-2019 season and during that season Jacob’s dad was still with him, so I will be mentioning him in this and the next chapter, along with his cancer. If that bothers you, please skip this and the next chapter. I just felt that it needed to be written into the story. As always feedback is welcome. Happy Reading!

What Happens In Vegas…Doesn’t Always Stay There Masterlist

It took three weeks back in LA to get everything taken care of before the move to Vancouver. Work thankfully wasn't a problem. With more and more movies and television shows being filmed in Canada, the firm liked the idea of having someone closer. Most of your work could be done remotely anyhow and you could just video chat conference calls or anything else you needed. It ended up being a win for everyone.

By the time you could actually move in, Jacob was on the tail end of a ten-day road trip. He'd insisted on hiring you a moving company, even though you said you could handle it, not that he thought you couldn't; he just felt you didn't need the added stress. Though packing wasn't the stressful part. It was the unpacking and not knowing where to put things with Jacob not being there that was causing your anxiety to rise. You felt like you were invading his home. Most of your furniture you kept in storage, but you still had a few things you wanted to take with you, yet you didn't know where to have the movers place it. Then there were your clothes. Jacob had a gorgeous master bedroom, with a closet to die for, but all his things were in it. You were unsure if you should move them to make room for yours or just take up the closet in the spare room. Which while spacious, was nowhere near as nice as the one in Jacob's room. Everything would've been much easier had he been here.

In the end, you split everything up, putting half your stuff in his closet and half in the other room. You figured the two of you would be doing a lot of compromising and this would just be one of them. You had his office moved around to accommodate your work desk, since you'd be working a lot from home, and you had to wonder how often he came in here, as the pile of papers on his desk looked like the size of Mount Fuji, volcanic eruption and all. You were tempted to straighten it out for him, but opted not to, not wanting to invade his privacy.

You were just putting away the last of your stuff when you heard Jacob walk through the door. "Prinsessa, I'm home." He'd taken to calling you his Swedish princess lately and you had to admit you didn't hate it.

"In the bedroom," you hollered back. It was late in the evening, too late for you to be up, but you wanted to see Jacob and make sure everything you'd done so far was fine with him.

"I was surprised to see all the lights on when I pulled up. Couldn't you sleep?"

"I just wanted to finish putting away a few things." He dropped his bag on the floor and came over to you, wrapping you up in his arms and dropping a few kisses to your lips.

"I missed you these last couple of weeks." It was weird but you'd missed him as well. You had talked every day, sometimes several times, but those few days that you'd spent in Vancouver, had just brought a new closeness to this relationship. If a relationship was what you could call it. He did refer to you as his girlfriend, but the way you two had gotten here was definitely the road less traveled.

You slid your arms up his chest, savoring the feel of his well-toned muscles there. "Funny...I didn't miss you at all." You had a hard time keeping a straight face.

"Really?" Jacob asked. There was this twinkle in his eyes, right before his hands slid under your ass and he lifted you on him. You didn't even have a chance to wrap your legs around him, though he held you with ease. "Maybe I need to do a better job at leaving you some reminders for next time." His mouth went to the crook of your neck where he sucked on you and gave you little love bites. You were pretty sure there were going to be marks there.

"And here this whole time I thought they called you Marky because of your last name," you teased, yet moved your head to the side to give him greater access.

"Oh, I plan on leaving more than just this one." He carried you over to the bed, where he gingerly lowered you down. You loved how he could be slightly rough with you one minute and then next so gentle. Admittedly, you'd like to see a little bit of his rough side, but hopefully, that would come with time.

His hands slid under your shirt, along your sides; the callousness of them rough yet the touch tender, making you shiver. "No bra?" he asked, eyebrows shooting up with delight as he skimmed along the undersides, before cupping each breast.

"I opted out of it a while ago." Though your body hadn't changed much in these last ten weeks, you did notice your breasts were more sensitive and sometimes you just couldn't stand having them confined longer than necessary. Tonight happened to be one of those times.

"Well if it's an option, you don't ever have to wear it again." There was a devilish look in his eyes. "I like this ease of access." He was rolling your nipples between his thumb and index finger, eliciting moans out of you so that you had no chance to answer. Scrunching your shirt up, he dipped his head down to lavish attention on those same nipples he had been tweaking. Your body squirmed, as he swirled his tongue around it before sucking on it gently. He wedged his thigh between your legs and you found your body grinding against it while he played with first one nipple and then the other. "Oh prinsessa, I think you did miss me."

There was no denying that your body missed this. Craved was more like it. You had a feeling there would never be a time that you didn't want him. What was surprising was the sense of loss that came with just simple day-to-day actions, like brushing your teeth together and sharing a meal. Those were the things you'd found yourself longing for these last few weeks.

Jacob started to travel down your body. Trailing kisses as he went, yet stopping to whisper something in Swedish to the baby. He didn't spend long there, and before you could ask what he said; he was pulling your sweats and panties down. "Du gor mig galen med hur vat du ar." (you drive me crazy with how wet you are) You were going to have to start picking up Swedish or something in your spare time, as he seemed to always revert to his native language in the heat of the moment. There was no time to ask what he said, as he dove right into your pussy. Licking a stripe right up to your clit causing your hips to lift off the bed.

You sucked in a breath when he repeated the action again, your body on fire like never before. When he flicked his tongue over your clit, you were gone. The orgasm hitting you hard and fast like never before. "Fuck," you screamed out, as your body trembled and spasmed.

Jacob worked you through it, somewhat astonished with how little he had done to make you cum so quickly. Once, you finally stopped shaking he picked his head up from between your legs. "Are you alright, prinsessa?"

"Yes," you sighed in a state of bliss, not knowing if it was the pregnancy or the fact that you hadn't seen Jacob in three weeks that made you climax like that.

You lay there panting, still catching your breath. "Shall we do that again?" The smirk on Jacob's face had you laughing, but after a long day of unpacking, you knew your body wouldn't last long.

"Do that and I may be done for the rest of the night." You were only half teasing but he chuckled and made his way back up your body, taking the hint.

"Rather have this," Jacob flexed his hips into you and moaned out into the room again. He was out of his boxers in no time. Cupping his cock in his hand, then guiding it into you. "God, prinsessa, you always feel like heaven."

"Mmm," was all you could answer back as he was buried deep in you, for he felt like heaven as well. When he finally started to move it felt like every nerve in your body was alive and tingling. With each thrust he took you to new heights you never knew were possible. "Oh Jacob," you moaned. "Don't stop...please...yes...oh god..."

"Yeah, you like that prinsessa?" A smirk of satisfaction crossing his lips at knowing he was bringing you such exquisite pleasure. "Does my cock make you feel good?" He was pounding into you and you didn't know how much longer you were going to be able to hold on for. He must have felt the small flutter your pussy gave, as the first tremors of orgasm began. "Cum for me (Y/N)." You shattered at his words, climaxing once again with a force you never felt but just minutes ago. "Fuck, ya." He groaned out, spilling inside you as his orgasm hit as well.

Your body was still quaking as he rolled you both onto your sides. His cock going flaccid yet still inside you. "God, you're beautiful," Jacob whispered those words, as he pushed strands of hair out of your face, before dropping kisses to your nose and lips. "If this is what happens when I get home from a road trip, I can't wait to go on another one."

"Stop," you said playfully swatting at his chest.

"I'm just teasing, prinsessa, though I do like coming home to you here. I think this will be good for us." You hoped it would, considering that you both had a lot banking on this working out. If this were to go south, then what would you do? Move back to LA with the baby? Stay here so that Jacob could be a part-time dad? There were so many questions swirling around in your brain, but when Jacob softly took his thumb to rub your cheek they all seemed to evaporate. "I didn't get to ask how you're feeling today?"

"I'm good, well, we're good. That's three whole days without morning sickness." It was small, but it was progress. Hopefully, you were on the upswing of that as you went into your eleventh week.

"Good, I can't see how that's good for either one of you." You couldn't either, even though everything you read and everyone you talked to, said it was normal. "When you were moving in did you figure out which room you wanted for the baby?"

"I thought the smart thing would be to keep it next to our room. Oh, I mean your room."

"No, you were right the first time. This is our room." He kissed you quickly before adding, "If we're going to make this work then everything is ours."

You yawned, completely exhausted from the babe and moving in. "Ok," you somehow managed to get out, agreeing with Jacob.

"Sleep, (Y/N). It's late." You weren't sure if it was the combination of his soft whispered words while he rubbed your back or sheer exhaustion, but the minute you closed your eyes you were out.

Jacob just chuckled to himself as he watched you fall asleep. He was fighting the feeling himself, though he just wanted to steal a few more glances as you slept on peacefully in his arms. It was strange to him, someone who wasn't ready to settle down, how much he loved this. Just holding you in his arms and watching you sleep. Ever since he'd met you, something inside him had changed. You made him want more than just random hookup after random hookup, and now he had that something more with you. Though pretty soon there would be a little one as well. His hand stole down to your belly. He thought for sure there would be a bump there, after not seeing you for three weeks. The little blueberry inside you had grown to a strawberry now. He knew this because of course, he had to google it, along with so many other things. Like how to change a diaper, and what he should expect at each week of your pregnancy. He knew that right now you could start with mood swings, and be crying one minute and happy the next. He was just waiting for that to happen. He was trying to be prepared as best he could to help you out with the baby growing inside you. His baby. God, it sounded weird, yet so good at the same time. It was thoughts of his little one that had him drifting off to sleep.

Jacob was home for the next five days before off on a short road trip before Thanksgiving. It was after a one point loss that he brought up finally being able to tell people about your pregnancy. The two of you were driving home after the game and you could tell his mind was preoccupied, you just assumed it was about the game. That was until he spoke. "I think we should tell everyone." It was sort of out of the blue and you had to admit you weren't sure if you were ready.

"I don't know Jacob."

Before you could say more, he looked over at you saying, "why?"

"It's just...I'm the new person here. I've only been to three games counting tonight." He looked over again when you came to a stoplight, confused by what you were saying. "They're going to judge me." When he still didn't understand, you added, "They're all going to think I baby trapped you."

"No, they won't."

"Please, I know women, and you said it yourself; they're a family. I'll be looked at as the outsider that wanted to get her claws into a famous athlete."

"I don't know about famous," he joked and you noticed that he tended to do that a lot. When you just gave him a look, he reached over and squeezed your thigh, letting his hand rest there after doing so. "I'm teasing (Y/N). I know these guys, they aren't going to think that way once we tell them. Hell, I'll take full blame. I mean I should've worn a condom, but if I'm being honest...I'm glad I didn't."

You were shocked at his words, to the point that you had none yourself. "Don't look so shocked," Jacob said breaking the silence. "I'll admit, that kids weren't in my plans right now, but they were in them. And I have to say now, once I saw blueberry, who's now strawberry; I'm kind of excited to be a dad. I guess that's why I want to tell everyone."

Well, shit, now he had you all weepy. You understood where he was coming from, there was something about seeing the baby on the ultrasound, even though you had no clue what you were looking at, and then hearing the heartbeat, well it made you feel the exact same way as he did. "Ok."

"Ok?"

"Ok, we can tell people."

"Really? I didn't say that to make you change your mind or anything." His hand was running up and down your thigh now, more in an excited manner than seductive, yet it still sent tingles through your body.

"I know, but I'll be twelve weeks in a couple days and then we're pretty much out of the woods according to the doctor." That had been your main concern, having a miscarriage. It would be hard enough on you let alone having to tell everyone who was sharing in your happiness.

"Oh," Jacob exclaimed and you could tell that was something that hadn't really crossed his mind. "Well, we can wait then."

"What if we compromise." After all, the two of you had been doing that a lot recently, no reason to stop now. "You're only gone a couple short days. We can tell everyone when you get back, at Thanksgiving." When you were with the other wives and girlfriends tonight they had mentioned that they were going to be doing a group thanksgiving dinner for those who wished to celebrate and didn't have family in town. It was a no-brainer to say yes, though you probably should've talked to Jacob first. It was too late for that now, as you were already down for bringing a couple pies for dessert.

"That actually sounds like a good plan. Even if I didn't know we were officially going." There was that damn squeeze of your thigh again to let you know he was teasing. This time you played along.

"Hmm, I don't remember you being mentioned in the invite, but I'm sure I can bring a plus one." You were half tempted to reach over to grasp his thigh, but you settled for just linking your fingers together with his, liking the fact that you two had this easiness with each other.

"I'm fine with being your plus one anytime, prinsessa."

Once the matter was settled the two of you concentrated on other things until you got home and he whisked you up to the bedroom. You had read that your sex drive might decrease some during these weeks of pregnancy but you were not finding that to be the fact. If anything, you were constantly, well the only word for it was, horny. Just being in Jacob's presence drove you wild, and it seemed to be the same for him. Though the two of you did have your tender moments, where you cuddled up on the couch to watch hockey; Jacob explaining the premises of the game better to you. There were also nights you would just lie in bed and talk about the baby. Jacob gently caressing the small bump on your belly that wasn't even noticeable unless you were naked, which around him seemed to be often.

Before you knew it, he was off on another road trip. Immersing yourself in work during the day was easy, it was the nights that were long. Game nights, you found yourself at one of the other ladies houses watching the game together or just laughing and enjoying each other’s company, but then you would head home to an empty house and an even more vacant bed. It wasn’t lost on you that just a few short months ago, this was the life you wanted. No craved. Now here you were wishing that Jacob was home with you, preferably in bed, but just being in the house would be enough for you. Though you couldn’t complain too much as Jacob would call and facetime you several times each night.

It wasn’t too long of a roadie, and before you knew it, he was back in Vancouver and you were getting ready for Thanksgiving. With each pie you baked, you had to admit you were getting more and more nervous at the idea of telling Jacob’s teammates. You’d taken the morning to tell his parents, who while not exactly thrilled about the way it happened, were happy for the both of you and excited about having a grandchild. Yours were pretty much the same, now understanding that your move to Canada was more than just business.

Hours later, you were in the car headed to Chris Tanev’s place, where he and his girlfriend Kendra were hosting. You couldn’t stop your legs from bouncing as you went past neighborhood after neighborhood. “I’m telling you there’s nothing to be worried about,” Jacob insisted, placing his hand over your knee in an effort to get you to stop.

“Yeah, well I’ll be better when it’s over and I don’t have to see the disapproving stares.”

“You weren’t this nervous telling our families.”

“I was for yours. I just wasn’t showing it on the outside.” Admittedly, you had been scared about telling them, but Jacob’s parents were just so kind. There were also words exchanged in Swedish which you had no clue as to their meaning, but Jacob assured you it was nothing bad at all. “Besides our parents aren’t going to judge us at the end of the day. Family kind of has to love you, even when you make mistakes.”

“Mistakes, huh?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, just trying to take your mind off of everything. So, you’re cool with my parents coming over for a bit. I mean dad and I will be on the road a couple of days, so it’ll just be you and my mom, but I know she’s really excited about meeting you.”

“Yeah, I’m actually looking forward to it.” Which was the honest to god’s truth. You wanted to learn all about Jacob and his family, for no matter what happened between the two of you, they would always be a part of the baby’s life. “I’m sure she’s got some good stories about you growing up. You know the ones that are way too embarrassing to tell, but mom’s do anyhow.” He groaned and you laughed. There were obviously some he didn’t want to be told and you were looking forward to hearing about those the most.

“Maybe I should be rethinking this.”

“Don’t you dare.” As the words rolled off your tongue, you realized you were pulling up to the Tanev residence.

“Ready?” You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the next few hours. You planned on just following Jacob’s lead. It wasn’t like you were going to walk in and simply announce that you were pregnant; however, and whenever, he wanted to tell them, was his choice.

He squeezed your hand one last time before the two of you exited the car. You grabbed the desserts, tossing two pies at Jacob before taking the last two, and heading to the door. “Welcome, guys,” Chris said as he opened the door, then took one of the pies off your hands. “Come on in.” Not everyone was there yet, which was rather nice. There were a few of the single players there, along with Sarah and Erik. You knew for sure Holly and Bo were coming as well and a few more of the couples, that you weren’t extremely close to yet, they just hadn’t arrived yet.

Mike Del Zotto was quick to come up and throw an arm around you. “Hey (Y/N), it’s good to see you. Glad you two decided to join us. I thought maybe this guy would keep you all to himself. I know I would.” He gave you a quick wink, but it was the look on Jacob’s face that had you laughing. He was not happy with DZ flirting with you by any means.

“Keep it up and we may just have to head home,” Jacob countered, though in a joking manner.

“Men,” Sarah said, grabbing you from Michael’s hold so that she could hug you. “Why don’t you boys run along and watch football or something. Let’s go put these in the kitchen.” She took the pies from Jacob and headed off.

Jacob came over and pecked you on the lips, before slyly asking, “You good?”

“Yeah,” with that he gave your hip a final squeeze then went with the other guys to the movie room.

“These look amazing,” Kendra told you, checking out the baked goods. “Where did you get them from?”

“Oh, I made them. I hope that’s ok.”

“Ok? Oh my god, of course, they’re probably way better than store-bought. Though you have me feeling guilty now because I did not make any of the food.” It was then that you noticed large tinfoil pans here and there in the kitchen with a couple in the oven. “I like to cook, but not for this herd. I don’t have enough oven space for the number of turkeys we’d need.”

“Well, I’m still amazed at you having everyone,” you told her, for it had to be a feat hosting this many hockey players along with their significant others. “Everything looks amazing and your house is gorgeous by the way.”

“Thank you. Would you like a glass?” Kendra held out a bottle of red wine, literally your weakness any other time than right now. “I was just pouring us a second.”

“Yeah, join us,” Sarah added. “We’re going to need it with all this male testosterone today.”

Somehow at the last couple of get-togethers, you’d managed to get out of drinking simply by saying that you had work the next day, but that would not be the case tomorrow. “I really shouldn’t, but a bottle of water would be great.”

“One water coming up.” Kendra headed over to the fridge when you saw Sarah eyeing you funny.

“Ok, so I have to ask.” This from Sarah as she still had that look on her face. It was the one Kennedy always made when she knew something. Nine times out of ten your best friend was always right, but then this was Sarah, someone who you considered a friend but didn’t know near as well. “You haven’t been drinking at any games and you’re not today. Are you….?” She paused letting the word pregnant just hang in the air, for you to fill in the blank.

“Are you?” Kendra asked now fully into the conversation, yet still, neither said the word.

All you could do was take a deep breath and say, “Yeah, I am.” Still not saying the P-word as if that would change the circumstance of your situation.

“Oh my god, congratulations.” Sarah came running around the island to hug you. "That's amazing." You were stunned there wasn't a hint of disapproval on her face. And when you looked back at Kendra who was waiting her turn to hug you, all you could see was happiness as well.

"Jacob is going to be a great father," Kendra told you when she wrapped you up in an embrace. "How far along are you?"

"How far along is what?" Chris asked.

"I hope you mean dinner because I'm starving," Del Zotto added.

Bringing up the rear of the trio was Jacob and all you could do was give him a sheepish grin as Kendra broke the news. "Congratulations, Daddy."

Both Michael and Chris turned to him, with shocked looks on their faces. "Why didn't you tell us, man?" Chris spoke first, as he clapped Jacob on the back then gave him the standard bro hug.

"I planned on it today," Jacob answered while giving you a look both shocked and thrilled that you were the one spilling the beans. "Just hadn't found the right time."

Del Zotto came up and hugged you first, followed by Chris, and the next thing you knew the whole place was congratulating the two of you. It was nothing like you thought, not one person questioned the fact that you'd just moved in together or started to see one another. Jacob had been right all along. They were just like your family, supportive of the decision the two of you had made. You were beginning to believe that this may work out. Especially, as your relationship with Jacob only seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

After Thanksgiving, things seemed to be moving in fast forward. You hit the twelve-week mark in your pregnancy, which meant another ultrasound and another chance for you and Jacob to further bond over the baby. It went from being a strawberry to being the size of a lime, according to the chart, and this time you could both see it was an actual baby growing inside of you. There was a distinct shape to its little arms and legs, which made the whole thing that much more real and exciting. Which is how you found yourself asking the girls how you would go about getting a little Canucks jersey with Jacob’s number and Daddy written on the back as a Christmas gift for Jacob. It was the first baby item that you bought and it felt so perfect.

As Christmas drew near, you found yourself decorating Jacob’s house for the holiday season. Even though you’d been living in the house for several weeks, it still didn’t feel like your home quite yet. Jacob had few holiday decorations, so you found yourself shopping more than you cared to admit. By the time he arrived home, you had the house transformed into something worthy of a Hallmark movie. It wasn’t what Jacob was used to by any means considering the Swedes are more classic and subtle when it came to holiday décor, but he loved it all the same.

Christmas was a quiet affair. You opted to stay in Canada with Jacob, figuring that you might as well start making some new traditions, like celebrating on Christmas Eve as is done in Sweden. The two of you tried to mesh your holiday traditions as much as possible, so you agreed to open one present Christmas Eve after you had eaten some classic holiday dishes from Jacob’s homeland, then opting to open the rest Christmas morning as your family had always done. Jacob bought you a beautiful charm bracelet. There was a Welcome to Vegas charm, as well as a hockey stick, and Canucks one, but the one you loved the most was the one that had Mom to be written on a heart.

“This is beautiful,” you said leaning over to give him a kiss. “Thank you.”

You handed over your gift to him, which he took with a silly grin on his face. Tearing through the paper, he unwrapped the box in no time, then pulled out the tiny hockey sweater. “This is great (Y/N). I can’t wait to see him or her in it at the game.”

“There’s more.” He looked at you curiously then peered back inside the box, seeing the gold chain lying inside. You’d seen him wear one on a few occasions but this had a little charm on the end. He looked at it several times before you finally gave in. “It’s the doppler sound of the baby’s heartbeat. I had told you I’d record it for you before we did the ultrasound here in Vancouver, but I still wanted you to have something to remember that moment.”

His eyes started to well up, just like they had that day when you heard the heartbeat. “This is…wow…I love it.” It was Jacob’s turn to plant a kiss on your lips, only this one became a little more heated. He finally pulled away, but only to say, “Can you put it on me?”

Thankfully he was seated on the couch, so you got up and placed the chain around his neck. The moment it was secure, he looked down at the charm and smiled, before reaching to grab you and pull you close again. This time speaking hushed words to the baby in Swedish as he always did.

“I think for my New Year’s resolution, I’m going to learn Swedish. I’m dying to know what you tell the baby.”

“That time, I said that they are so lucky to have the most wonderful mom in the world.” Well, if that didn’t make the heat rise to your cheeks. “There might have been a few other things as well. I’m more than happy to teach you though if you’d like to learn.”

“I think I would. It would be nice to teach our child your native tongue, and they say to start as early as possible. Which it seems that you are.” He just grinned then hauled you down on his lap, cradling your small little bump once you were seated.

“Well here’s your first lesson. You say God Jul for Merry Christmas in Swedish.”

You repeated the words, butchering them a bit, then repeated it again much better. “Very good, prinsessa. Obviously, you know that one as well.”

“I do. Though I wonder if I shall still get that title if we have a girl.”

“Hmm, might have to change it to Drottning.”

“I have no clue what that means, but it’s not nearly as romantic.” Jacob let out a bark of laughter.

“No, I don’t suppose queen sounds as good in Swedish as it does English. I guess I will just have to think about it.”

“Which makes me wonder, do you want a boy or a girl?” Everyone knew that all you both wanted was a healthy baby, but you wouldn’t lie and say that you’d love to see Jacob with a son. One he could teach all his hockey moves to, though he could just as easily do that with a girl. Maybe it was that you wanted a boy just so that you could see Jacob through him. One that had his sense of humor and good looks. Though your child would probably never be in trouble if he could replicate his father’s grin. It melted your heart every time you saw it. You had to shake yourself from where your thoughts were leading for you never saw yourself as this person; the kind that wanted to see the man that they loved reflected in their children.

Did you literally just think that you loved Jacob? Certainly, you had feelings for him, but love; no, it couldn’t be that. You hadn’t known Jacob long enough to say you were in love with him. Hell, the two of you were in the process of getting a divorce. Weren’t people falling out of love when that happened and not into it?

“Either will be fine, just healthy.” Jacob's voice brought you back to reality and where your train of thoughts was leading. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to explore those feelings; now was just not the right moment for it. Later, you thought, when you weren’t wrapped up in his arms with this warm fuzzy feeling from the holiday season already bubbling inside you.

“Well, we both want that, but isn’t there one you want a little bit more than the other?” You probed further, ignoring those earlier thoughts.

“Not really prinsessa.” He had to have some preference just as you did.

“So, then you don’t want to know what we’re having?”

“Not if you don’t.” He was too damn accommodating at times or was that he was disinterested. He was always talking to the baby, so you didn’t think that it was the latter.

“We have a few more weeks to think about it.” No point in making the decision right now, maybe he would change his mind. “I made the next appointment for when you’re back, on the fifteenth. We’ll have to know by then.”

He kissed your temple, hands running under your shirt so that he could caress the tiny baby bump. “We will, for now though, we better get to bed before Santa comes.”

“Is Santa coming the reason you want to go?” you teased as you could feel his erection growing against you.

“Well, if you let me, prinsessa, Santa won’t be the only one cuming.” God, you loved his sense of humor. There was that word again. It had you jumping off his lap in order for your mind to not wander down that path again.

“Guess we better head to bed then.” He was swift to follow you, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you to the bedroom, where he definitely kept his word.

It was two days later that he was headed off on a ten-day road trip. You were definitely not looking forward to it, as the house always seemed empty without him in it.

The team played on New Year’s Eve and had it been anywhere else than New Jersey you would’ve gone to watch only so you could ring in the new year together. Instead, you spent that night with all the Canuck ladies, facetiming Jacob as the new year approached. Jacob was still going to be on the road for another five days, so you busied yourself by taking down all the holiday decorations. You decided to make the place a bit homier, adding pictures and artwork here and there. The place was really starting to feel more like home.

The only room that still needed work, was the office. While your desk was neat and organized, Jacob’s was a disaster. Had been since the day you moved in. You were seriously starting to wonder how things got done with the mountain of papers on his desk. All those papers had been driving you crazy every day you came in to work. Jacob needed someone to organize him, or at least that’s what you told yourself as you sat in his chair and started to sift through piece after piece of mail and documents.

There was a pile for bills, all of which somehow got paid, though you didn’t know how. A pile for legal documents and a miscellaneous pile that you needed to figure out where to put. Once you organized the first two, you moved on to the random ones that you weren’t one hundred percent sure of. You were halfway through when you came across a familiar envelope; the same one you’d sent the divorce papers back in. Why it hadn’t caught your attention when you first separated it, you weren’t sure?

You opened it up, assuming it was a copy of the document you’d signed. What you found inside shocked you. It was the original paperwork. The blue ink you signed it in staring back at you, but that wasn’t the part that told you it was a copy. It was the fact that Jacob’s signature was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t signed it. Why? You’d both agreed to the divorce, it was practically a done deal, only now it wasn't.

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meichenxi · 3 years

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Ooh anything about linguistics and/or Chinese linguistics that interests you- what do you find most interesting?

Ooooo thank you! First let me apologise for the lack of rigour i.e. sources - I am ILL.

HMMMMM ok...let me talk a little bit about one thing I find fascinating - the idea of 'linguistic complexity'. It's an interesting topic that a) demonstrates the failures of linguistics that only takes Indo-European languages into account; b) demonstrates how a conflation of linguistic and moral judgements leads to absolute chaos; and c) proves that sometimes the purpose of all models and hypotheses is to be a useful aid in description, and not to be 100% accurate. Which means that multiple models can exist at the same time. Also, it shows just how cool Classical Chinese is.

I'm going to make this into two posts because I have been asked to wax lyrical on this stuff twice...this one will be a general overview of what linguistic complexity is and some of the issues around it, and the other post (@karolincki 's ask) will be an overview of these issues as pertaining to Modern and Classical Chinese.

Linguistic complexity: an introduction

What is linguistic complexity? Basically what it says on the tin: how 'simple' or 'complex' is one language in relation to another. If you automatically think that sounds dodgy - aren't all languages equally complex? what is a simple language? etc - just hold on. We'll get there.

A very important starting point: complexity here only refers to linguistic complexity. There are many ways to measure this, but broadly speaking it refers to the amount of stuff in a language a learner has to deal with. Are there genders? Well, that's more complex than not having any, because it's an extra thing to remember. Do you have to express whether the information you're conveying is something you personally experienced or hearsay? Again, more complex than not. Different tenses? Essentially, you can look at complexity like this: if you were describing this language or putting it into a computer program, what is the minimum length of description you would need? The longer the description, the more complex the language. In a standard understanding of complexity, a language like English is more complex than a language like Vietnamese (English has more tenses, moods, conjugations, irregularity...), and a language like Georgian is more complex than a language like English (Google a single verb table of Georgian and you will see what I mean).

(this will be long)

What complexity does not mean is anything to do with the cognitive abilities of the people who speak it. It doesn't mean that people who speak English are unable to conceive of the difference between a dual and a plural (2 apples and 3 apples), just because the language doesn't mark it. It doesn't mean people who speak Chinese are unable to conceive of the past conditional ('I should have gone...') just because they don't have a separate tense for it. It doesn't mean Italian speakers don't know whether they experienced the thing themselves, or heard about it from someone else, just because they don't have a set verb ending for it. All linguistic complexity means is what the language requires you to express.

I'm putting this out there very clearly because this sort of thinking is bound up in a lot of racist ideas and ideology. You'll have heard of the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis? Unfortunately named, since they never really worked together, and Edward Sapir was actually a relatively cool dude for the time who argued against linguistic relativity - i.e. the language you speak determines how you think. Yes, in the 19th (and much of the 20th) century, when certain linguists referred to 'simple' and 'complex' languages that is what many of them meant: speakers of a simple language are 'simple', and a complex one are 'complex'. But there was a huge backlash against these racist ideas, and that backlash was hugely influential is shaping the direction of typology (the branch of linguistics which is broadly concerned with these sorts of questions). More on that later, but for now: please understand that when I say linguistic complexity, I am not implying a single thing about the people that speak it.

Back to complexity. Of course language, like any system, is made up of moving parts: you don't just need to consider how many parts it has, but also how interdependent they are, whether they interact with each other in a predictable way, how likely they are to change. You might also want to consider how easy the system is to learn for somebody who has never used it before. And then, of course, languages are more complex still because they are not machines, but ever-changing things: do you count a rule like the conditional inversion in English, which only applies to a total of three verbs? Is that less complex because fewer verbs use it - and therefore you need to think about it less - or does that make the system more complex because you need another, meta-rule to say when you need to use it and when not? What about irregularity? Is a language like English that doesn't have many rules but has a sizeable amount of 'irregular' verbs more or less complicated than a language like Swahili which has a lot more rules, but follows them assiduously? And what happens when some people use one rule and others don't - do you count those as the same language (lumping), which may render the grand overview less accurate, or do you count them as totally separate languages (splitting), in which case when do you stop?

Hmm. Complexity. Is. Complex.

Those are a lot of factors that need to be considered here. Even saying something is 'irregular' doesn't mean very much without further quantification. For example, if I say that the 'irregular' verb ring goes to ring, rang, rung in English, you can very easily find other verbs which conjugate similarly: sing, sang, sung etc. So is that really irregular? Or is it just another, less productive rule? But then if it's a rule, why do we say fling, flung, flung and not yesterday I flang the ball? What's going on???

And what about 'total' irregularity, so called 'suppletion', where (and this is a very scientific explanation) a random non-related word just seems to appear in a paradigm, like it's got lost on the way home? Like I go, I went; like to be, I am, he is, I were; like good, better, best. Ok, so is the irregularity in I go and I went somehow....more irregular than irregularity in I sing and I sang? Uhh. Ok. And then is the irregularity in bad, worse, worst somehow more irregular than better and best, because at least for better and best you can see the -er and -st endings?? Finally, what about a 'spoken' but very predictable irregularity, such as the way we have a reduced vowel in 'says'? Where do we count that? Is that more irregular, or less irregular? Is it maybe 33% irregular?

I think you get the point. And of course all of this becomes more complex when you start to consider the interaction of lots of different systems at once. What about tone? If you have regular tone like Chinese, most people would agree that it's more complex because it's an added thing. But tone probably only developed in part as a response to losing some really important sound contrasts that other languages have kept...and also there is no possibilities of 'irregularities' in tone the way there are in something like verb conjugation...you can't just have a random sixth tone. And then what about syntax? If you have lots of very complex word ordering rules, is that more or less complex than a language where you have to rely on the human being to use pragmatics to infer what the ever loving fuck is going on?

Yeah. This is sort of just one of those things where every year a new linguist comes up with a spicy new matrix to 'measure' complexity and then everyone shits on them in journals and then comes up with their own idea which is promptly shat on. I don't know either.

Ok, so how is this relevant to Chinese?

To answer that question we need to circle round a bit to the history of typology that I vaguely alluded to earlier. At various points - depending on how racist the linguist in question was - people in the 20th century were starting to realise that all of this stuff about 'complex language = complex civilisation / complex thought' wasn't quite as water-tight as they'd hoped. Perhaps it was their better judgement, but it's also likely to have been influenced by a lot of contact suddenly with Native American languages - many of which are vastly complex by literally any metric you could possibly imagine, but the people speaking them were not colonising other countries and building amphitheatres and all of those necessarily, comfortingly European ideas of 'civilisation'. This movement away from such racist ideology, even if it was fuelled in part by a different type of racism, meant that suddenly everyone was very wary about making statements about linguistic complexity at all. It smacked of all the things they were trying not to be associated with.

I'm going to quote some Edward Sapir here for no other reason than I think it's really unfortunate that he's most famous for something that has the potential for incredibly racist ideology that he literally never said:

'Intermingled with this scientific prejudice and largely anticipating it was another, a more human one. The vast majority of linguistic theorists themselves spoke languages of a certain type, of which the most fully developed varieties were the Latin and Greek that they had learned in their childhood. It was not difficult for them to be persuaded that these familiar languages represented the “highest” development that speech had yet attained and that all other types were but steps on the way to this beloved “inflective” type. Whatever conformed to the pattern of Sanskrit and Greek and Latin and German was accepted as expressive of the “highest,” whatever departed from it was frowned upon as a shortcoming or was at best an interesting aberration. Now any classification that starts with preconceived values or that works up to sentimental satisfactions is self-condemned as unscientific. A linguist that insists on talking about the Latin type of morphology as though it were necessarily the high-water mark of linguistic development is like the zoölogist that sees in the organic world a huge conspiracy to evolve the race-horse or the Jersey cow.'

People generally began to get the hang of it after this, and stepped away from linguistic classification at all. There was a broad consensus that that sort of thing was done with, a thing of the past. It's kind of funny, because of course people's unwillingness to look at the complexity of language because 'all people are the same' shows that they still think language and culture/cognition are intimately linked! It was done out of a desire to not be racist, but you can't even reach that conclusion unless you have a sneaky secret bit of bioessentialism going on in your sneaky little brain. Because if the complexity of language doesn't reflect the complexity of your thought, why would it matter whether some systems are bigger than others? That they had more parts?

It literally wouldn't matter at all..

So what happened next? Linguists started to revisit these old linguistic classifications and ideas of complexity, but in the hope of proving, instead, that actually all languages were equal. You can definitely see the theoretical aims here: not only is a good from an ideological point of view (again, if you still equate linguistic complexity to complexity of thought), but it's also quite handy if you believe that all human babies approach language learning with the same biological apparatus ('Universal Grammar', if you believe in that, and other cognitive principles). If all babies have the same built-in gear, you sort of want the task they are given to be of roughly the same magnitude. That's one of those things linguists like to call theoretically desirable - which just means it would be neat if it did.

We're getting to Chinese. I promise.

So how you could make systems so vastly different as English and Georgian and Chinese roughly the 'same' level of complexity? One answer is irregularity: languages with huuuuuge verb and noun declensions like Georgian tend to have very little irregularity, where languages with less extensive systems like English tend to keep it around for longer. There are lots of reasons for this I won't go into, but it's a general trend. Irregular systems are more work for the brain to remember, which, predictably, is more 'complex' for a learner to acquire. Compare a language like English and German: German may have more cases and declensions and rules, but once you learn them...that's it. Compare that to English, where you'll be learning phrasal verbs and prepositions as a second language learner until the day you die (and possibly beyond). It's a different type of 'complex', but it's still deserving of the title.

That obviously doesn't work for a language like Chinese. Chinese has no conjugations, and so can't possibly have any irregularity in the same way. But fear not: there are lots and lots and lots of ways in which languages often exhibit what might be called 'complexity tradeoffs': languages with complex tone, for example, almost always have simpler sound systems elsewhere, and many languages with complex case arrangements tend to have free word order. One thing is complex, another...simplex (a word unfortunately genuinely in use).

This seems nice. We like this. It means that the different parts of the same system may be differently sized, but the whole system in total is about the same as any of other language. There’s just one problem: this isn’t how languages seem to work.

For every example of a complexity trade-off you can find, there are other languages which don’t have any such ‘trade off’ at all. There are plenty of languages where grammar is complex and the sound system is complex; or languages like Icelandic and German where there are cases but fairly rigid and fixed word order; or other cases where there is a huge amount of irregularity but also crazy verb systems, and so on. A language like Abkhaz has supposedly 58 consonants in the literary dialect: but it also has insanely complicated grammar. No trade-off there. Finally, it has long been presumed that whilst verb morphology etc is simpler in languages like Chinese, syntax would be more complicated: recently, a number of studies have proved exactly the opposite. Both, in fact, are simpler.

In conclusion, where does this leave us? Whilst the idea behind complexity trade-offs is well-motivated but not totally sound, and whilst these do not always seem to be present in the way you might hope, what this does do is force us as linguists to question whether we have spent enough time considering the types of complexity that are present in languages like Chinese, and how we reconcile that with more ‘familiar’ complexity. It’s interesting to think about because it shows what happens when you fail to consider these things.

That’s all for the overview on linguistic complexity today!! I’ll talk specifically about complexity in Chinese in the next ask, because this is already very long. Be aware, I’m not going to give you any answers necessarily - these questions are way above my pay grade - but boy can I give you some thoughts.

#chinese #linguistics #langblr #lingblr #linguistic complexity #meichenxi manages #askies #oh my god I am so looking forward to writing the next one #it's so spicy #love remembering that I actually sometimes know things lmao #stop the false equivalence of Sapir = the Sapir-whorf hypothesis 2k21 #the dude was actually quite progressive for his time #sighhhhh *squints at actual linguistics* hope this doesn't awaken anything in me #like the desire to go and do a masters #I hope this makes sense and I hope no one yells at me #if you want any sources I'm happy to give I'm just lazy and ill #source = brain #no I really do have books I promise

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