#my answer to every problem in our block is

[beeseverywhen]

The good thing about living in a block of flats is when your neighbour is irrationally angry about something you have no control over you CAN just ignore them and in no time they'll find a new neighbour to get angry at instead, allowing you to just stand by the door and get the news without being directly shouted at

#my answer to every problem in our block is #yeah i see. you know what. you should tell our landlord #i rent from a large corporate landlord. they hire ppl who's only job is to field stupid angry letters and my neighbours want to vent at me? #babe I'm not getting paid to listen to this. in fact.they've often made me late to things i am getting paid for. the opposite of being paid #maybe you should write a letter about it. maybe then you'll feel better #the worst is when they try to bring maths in to it. these bitches are so bad at math. theres a bloke upstairs furious his rent is going up #after the 3rd rant i realised its actually been going down. his rent is going down year by year against all reason and he's mad #it's not all bad. I'm their fav to rant at because for some reason they all really like me #i moved in here when id just turned 18 and they are all middle aged blokes who immediately decided i was daughter shaped #unfortunately they are all really bad parents. found family but make it dysfunctional. #one of them keeps offering to fight ppl that inconvenience me or are rude to me (see. members of the town council) #another likes to give me lectures on my wasted potential #and one of them brings me presents home from the dump #imagine my surprise when i discovered many of them have adult children they don't do any of this for

[cassandraclare]

*sighs a bit* Okay. Guys. I have been asked this question a lot, and answered it a lot. I don't know how to give a better answer — Dru & Ty&Kit share significance as main characters — so I guess I'll talk a little about comparison and structures.

First, all series have different structures. I don't think it's super useful or predictive to try to map an upcoming, unknown book series onto an existing series. In TLH the main character was Cordelia, everyone else was secondary to her, and people's roles and the significance of them altered from book to book. It was a big ensemble cast and they mostly stayed put in London especially in book 1.

TWP focuses on a smaller group of people. It also has a very different structure. In book one, Dru is not with Kit and Ty. They are in different places, both of which have their own stories that are significant to the plot. There is no way to see Place One without following Dru. There is no way to see Place Two without following Kit and Ty.

I know that TWP is a long way off. I know there are people who are very angry with me that there's such a gap, but there isn't anything currently I can do about that, or about the fact that I don't yet have the schedule for my upcoming books. That rests in the hands of several different publishers who must coordinate the release times and production schedules for four different series. I am not withholding any information about when these books come out. I simply don't know it yet.

I understand that TWP being a long way off makes for anxiety, and that those who are worried Kit and Ty will somehow be secondary are looking for tiny clues in microscopic details — micro-reading the of placement of the word "and" in my newsletter and such — that are meaningless, but I get that it all comes from anxiety. (FTR, those worried Dru will be secondary are equally anxious.)

I think there is only so much I can say. Because there's a big gap between TLH and TWP everything I do say or every image or hint about it is freighted with a weight of assumption it can't really support. Anxiety is always going to trump reassurance. And truly, at the end of the day, if you only care about Kit and Ty and find the idea of a Dru story tiresome, you will feel like they got shafted because when you absolutely hate a plotline, you will always feel like it's taking up way too much space. That's just how our minds work.

I've been doing this long enough that I know no book can survive a hostile reading. I know that Book Three of a trilogy is the one people hate until they don't. (When Clockwork Princess came out people hated it so much I considered quitting writing!) I know that it's wonderful to love a character but can also be a problem for people when I put out books that aren't about that particular character or dynamic. I know that for a lot of people, Sword Catcher and Ragpicker King are just tiresome things that have no business on my schedule because they're not Shadowhunter books. And I get it. But I also have to block it out, because I've been writing a long time, and I've gotten to a point where I know that I have to write the thing I want to be writing, because if I don't, if I sit down and try to force myself to write something I'm not feeling like writing at that time, I'll be making myself physically and mentally sick. And that's no good for anyone, really.

I suppose the positive thing is that, while this would not have been true five years ago, I am at the place where I want very much to be writing Wicked Powers. I missed these characters and am glad to be back with them. I consider this a story in which there are three main characters. And that is all I can say right now because it's all that I know.

(And this was much more of a general response to a lot of things than a specific response to this question, but I did feel like it was stuff that I needed to say. Creators are at the end of the day, just people. Sometimes we are powerless to reassure. Sometimes we are tired. Sometimes we are wrong. Sometimes we try things and they don't work. Sometimes we can't explain to you what our story is going to make you feel, because only reading it is going to tell you that. This may be one of those times.)

#the wicked powers

[delusionalfanficwriter]

forgive me

My heart pounded in my chest as I turned the key in the lock, the anticipation of finally being home after what felt like an eternity abroad making my hands tremble. I had missed Leah desperately during my time away, longing for her comforting presence after I missed the possibly winning penalty for the USWNT. But now, as I stepped inside our apartment, that longing turned to dread.

The soft glow of lamplight illuminated the living room, casting eerie shadows against the walls. And there, on the couch, lay Leah, wrapped in the arms of another woman. My stomach dropped as the scene before me registered, the shock and disbelief hitting me like a tidal wave.

I wanted to scream, to demand answers, to tear apart the fabric of reality until this nightmare dissolved into nothingness. But all I could do was stand there, frozen in place, my heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces.

Leah's eyes met mine, a fleeting expression of surprise and guilt flickering across her features before she spoke. "Y/n, I can explain," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart.

She quickly got up from the couch in her panties and long t-shirt while the other woman I did not recognize gathered her belongings and ran out without hesitation.

I didn’t respond and as Leah took another step towards me, I took one back, shaking my head in disbelief. 

“Say something, y/n. Please. I know I fucked up, but I can explain.”

I block out her words and just stare at her, tears filling my eyes as my heart breaks every second I stand there. I take a shaky breath before saying, “I am going to pack a bag and go.” She goes to argue but I shake my head and interrupt, “Leah, you need to let me go.”

Leah's face crumpled in anguish as my words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them pressing down on us both like a suffocating blanket. She reached out to me, her hands trembling with desperation, but I recoiled from her touch, unable to bear the thought of her hands on me after what I had just witnessed.

"No," she whispered, her voice thick with tears. "Please, y/n, don't do this. I love you, I swear, I never meant to hurt you."

Her words cut through me like a knife, reopening wounds that had barely begun to heal. I wanted to believe her, wanted to cling to the illusion of love and happiness we had shared, but the reality of her betrayal loomed large in the space between us, an insurmountable barrier that threatened to swallow us whole.

"I can't do this anymore, Leah," I said, my voice cracking with emotion. "You've hurt me in ways I never thought possible. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you."

Leah's eyes brimmed with tears as she reached out to me again, her desperation palpable in the air. She knew how hard I worked in my self-confidence but this just took the biggest blow to it. "Don’t for a second think you are not enough, y/n. I’m the problem. Please, y/n, give me another chance. I'll do anything to make this right, anything to prove to you that I love you."

But I shook my head, my resolve hardening with each passing moment. "It's too late for that, Leah. You've broken my trust. I can't just forgive and forget."

I ignore her as she begs for forgiveness while I head to our room to grab a few extra items as I already have a suitcase filled because of my trip with the national team. 

As I hastily packed my belongings, Leah's pleas echoed in my mind, each word a painful reminder of the love we once shared. 

Leah followed me into the bedroom, her footsteps hesitant as if she were treading on thin ice. "Please, y/n," she implored, her voice choked with tears. "Don't leave like this. We can work through this together, I promise."

Her words stirred a flicker of doubt within me, a small voice whispering that perhaps forgiveness was possible. But as I looked into her eyes, I saw not just remorse, but a deeper struggle, a fundamental flaw in our relationship that could not be easily mended.

"I need some space, Leah," I said, my voice firm despite the tremors of uncertainty coursing through me. "I need time to figure things out on my own."

Leah's shoulders slumped in defeat, her gaze falling to the floor as tears streamed down her cheeks. "I understand," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the din of my racing heart. With a heavy heart, I zipped up my bag. As I made my way to the door, Leah's voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Y/n, wait," she said, her voice wavering with emotion. "Just know that I'll always love you, no matter what."

I let the tears I have been holding back drop silently as I look her in her eyes one more time. I love her so much but obviously I am not providing enough if she’s seeking more elsewhere. 

I get into my car and drive around aimlessly before arriving at Katie McCabe's place, seeking refuge in the familiarity of her warm embrace, she immediately sensed something was amiss. Concern etched across her features as she ushered me inside, her voice laced with worry.

"Y/n, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost," Katie exclaimed, her eyes scanning my face for any sign of explanation.

I managed a weak smile, attempting to mask the turmoil raging within me. "It's nothing, Katie. Just... a rough day."

But Katie wasn't easily fooled. She took my hand gently, her touch grounding me amidst the chaos of my emotions. "You know you can tell me anything, right? I'm here for you, no matter what."

I hesitated, the weight of my unspoken truth threatening to suffocate me. But as I looked into Katie's compassionate gaze, I knew I couldn't bear to burden her with the tangled mess of my heartache.

"It's complicated," I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I don't want to talk about it."

Katie's brow furrowed in concern, her instincts urging her to push further. "Is it Leah?" she asked softly, her words hanging heavy in the air.

I flinched at the mention of her name, the pain of betrayal still fresh in my mind. But I couldn't bring myself to tarnish Leah's name, not when the love I once felt for her still lingered like a ghost in the recesses of my heart.

"I can't," I choked out, tears threatening to spill over. "I can't do that to her. I still love her, Katie. I can't bear the thought of anyone hating her."

Katie's expression softened with understanding as she wrapped me in a comforting embrace, her presence a soothing balm to my shattered soul. "You don't have to say anything you're not ready to, y/n," she murmured, her words a whispered promise of unwavering support.

…………. ……….. ………… ………….

As the days passed, life seemed to go on as usual. I returned to my routine, throwing myself into training with the Arsenal team, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Despite my efforts to appear unaffected, the tension between Leah and me was palpable, a silent rift that threatened to tear us apart.

At practice, the atmosphere was strained, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. My teammates exchanged knowing glances, their curiosity piqued by the unspoken tension between Leah and me.

Leah, ever persistent, continued to plead for forgiveness, her desperation evident in every fleeting glance and tentative touch. But I remained steadfast in my resolve, refusing to entertain the possibility of reconciliation until I had fully come to terms with the betrayal that had shattered my trust.

As we gathered on the field, preparing for another grueling session, Leah approached me tentatively, her eyes brimming with remorse. "Y/n, please," she whispered, her voice pleading. "We need to talk. I can't bear this distance between us any longer."

I shook my head, my resolve hardening with each passing moment. "Not now, Leah," I replied, my voice firm despite the turmoil raging within me. "I need time to process everything that's happened."

“Please, y/n. I can see you training extra hard just to avoid thinking about this. Please, I don't want to see you hurting.”

“You did that, amore. You hurt me. I knew I wasn’t enough and you reassured me countless times I was. I was stupid to believe you… that I was enough for you.” I whisper before walking away. 

“Y/n, wait! At least tell me why no one else knows? I was expected to get some lash back from the gals.” She grabs my arm before I face her once more.

“Despite all you have done, and might think, I still love you.”

As Leah and I stood on the training field in our emotional exchange, a voice interrupted from the sidelines, cutting through the weighty atmosphere with unexpected levity.

"Well, whatever Leah did, it must be forgivable if she's still alive," came a joking remark from one of our teammates, interrupting the solemn moment with a touch of humor.

I turned to see Alessia smirking playfully as she approached us, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Despite the seriousness of the situation, her lighthearted comment momentarily lifted the heaviness that had settled over us.

"Seriously, y/n," Alessia continued, nudging me gently with her elbow. "You must be a saint to consider forgiving whatever she did. I mean, I can barely forgive her for stealing my snacks, let alone whatever this is."

A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips, the tension easing slightly under the unexpected reprieve of humor. "Trust me, Alessia," I replied, my tone light despite the lingering ache in my heart. "It's going to take a lot more than snacks to make things right."

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #uswnt fanfic #uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader

[firewasabeast]

Our Future

(a bucktommy mini(ish) fic)

ao3 link or read below

Summary: Buck gets a little reckless at work, and Tommy gets a lot upset.

It had started with the silent treatment when Buck first got home from work. Tommy was fixing dinner, forcefully plucking basil leaves from the stem and tossing them into the pot when Buck came in.

He knew something was wrong right away, especially when he was only greeted with a monotone, “Hello,” and no attempt to move away from the pot that did not actually need to be stirred at the moment.

Buck had walked over to him, giving him a kiss on the cheek before going to shower.

Once he was showered and dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, he came back out and sat down at the kitchen island, where Tommy was now aggressively chopping lettuce.

“So, how was your day?” Buck asked cautiously.

“Fine.”

“Do anything fun?”

“Not really.”

“Get some rest?”

“Tried to.”

Buck rested his hands on the counter, tapping his fingers a few times before asking his next question. “You didn't... Did you happen to catch the evening news?”

Instead of answering, Tommy stopped chopping the lettuce, put the knife down and went to the fridge to get a cucumber. A thick silence filled the space between them as Tommy washed the cucumber and returned to his cutting board. He picked back up the knife and resumed the harsh chopping.

“I will take that as a yes,” Buck mumbled. He sighed, briefly resting his head in his hands before continuing, “Say something, Tommy. You've got your grumpy face and everything; I know you're mad.”

“I'm not mad,” he answered, obviously mad. “And I do not have a grumpy face.”

“You very much do have a grumpy face.” He tried to meet Tommy's eyes from across the island, but Tommy was avoiding him. “Come on, Tom,” Buck said calmly, patiently, “Talk to me.”

Tommy put down the knife and, for the first time since Buck got home, he looked at him. His eyes were red. It almost looked like he'd been crying.

“I just don't get it, Evan. What would possess you to do that?”

“It's my job,” Buck defended. “It's our job. It's what we do.”

“No. No, what you did was way beyond the job. You know how I know it was beyond the job?” He asked rhetorically. “I know because, when I was watching the news, I could hear Bobby on the live feed yelling at you to not go back in.”

“I- I had to go back in though, Tommy. I had to save him. If I didn't go back in, he would have died.”

“He. Was. A. Hamster!” Tommy replied, emphasizing each word. “You risked your life, for a hamster.”

“Of course I did!” Buck said, as though it was crazy to think he wouldn't go back in. “Tommy, you didn't see that little girl crying. Sh- She just got Georgie a couple months ago for her birthday a- and she took such good care of him. She was freaking out. I didn't really think about it, I just went.”

“That's the problem!” Tommy exclaimed, motioning to Buck. “You didn't think about it. You never think about it. You go, and you run into the fire, and you become the hero, and you never once stop to think about you!”

“Hey, that's not fair-”

“What if the ceiling would have collapsed?” Tommy continued. “What if your exit had become blocked? Or the buildup of smoke got you lost? You never considered those things, did you?”

“I told you I didn't think about it,” Buck replied. His voice was quiet, reserved. He wasn't sure if what he was feeling was anger or shame. Either way, he hated it.

“Well, you should have.”

Okay, now Buck knew it was anger he was feeling. “Oh, thank you for those- those wise words. You've really changed my perspective. You should have,” he mocked, getting up from his seat. He went to head toward their bedroom, every intention to slam the door behind him, but instead he turned back around to face Tommy. “You know, we've been together for two years and never once have you made me feel bad for doing my job! In fact, most of the time, you seem to find it pretty hot.”

“When you're not being careless.”

“I was not being careless! I was saving an animal! I was helping that kid wh- who just lost everything she had.”

“Yeah, well what about us, Evan? What about everything you have? Our future? Our kids?”

All the retorts Buck had prepared suddenly disappeared. He stared at Tommy for a moment, dumbfounded, before uttering out, “Our... Our kids? Tommy, we don't have kids.”

Tommy put his hands on his hips, standing straighter. “No, not yet, but one day we will.”

“You think about that?”

“Of course I do,” Tommy replied as though it should be obvious. “We've talked about having kids someday, Ev.”

“Yeah, I- I know we talked about it I just didn't know you thought about it.” Any hint of anger in his voice had long fallen away.

“Don't you?”

Buck nodded. “Yeah. A lot.”

Tommy took a breath, rubbing his hands over his eyes to try and wipe away some of the exhaustion from the day. He moved around the island, taking a few steps closer to Buck. “I just worry,” he said, his voice faltering. “I worry that one day you're going to run into a burning building looking for a turtle, or a fish, and then I'm gonna have to explain that to our kids. I'm gonna be left,” he paused, “left alone, and I can't- I can't handle that.”

“But what if it's a person?” Buck asked. “How would that be any easier?”

“It wouldn't be easier,” Tommy admitted, “but at least I'd understand it then. Listen, Evan, I love animals as much as the next person but I love you a lot more. I'd like to know that when you're at work, you're there with the priority to come back home.”

Buck moved closer to Tommy. Close enough to reach out and grab his hand. “I can't promise you that I'll never run into a building looking for an animal again. That's just me, you know that. But I can promise you that surviving and coming home to you, and our future children, is always in the front of my mind. Always.”

Tommy nodded, blinking away tears. “Today was, um, it was the first time I was ever home, just sitting and watching the news and there you were. They had a special alert for the fire, and it was just live coverage of everything happening, and there you were,” he took in a shaky breath. “I couldn't do anything but watch and when you ran back in, I- I started counting. It was four minutes, twenty three seconds and I don't think I took a breath that entire time. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it kind of felt like my heart was breaking apart, piece by piece.”

Buck shook his head. “That's not ridiculous,” he said, squeezing Tommy's hand even tighter. He pulled Tommy closer, wrapping him in a hug. “I would've felt the same way if it was you. I'm sorry.”

Tommy rested his chin on Buck's shoulder, closing his eyes. “You don't need to be sorry.”

After they held each other for a moment, Tommy pulled back just enough to look at Buck. “Evan, I don't want you to change who you are. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Buck replied, and it was true. He knew Tommy loved him for exactly who he was, even if he was a little reckless sometimes.

“I just-”

Buck raised a hand to Tommy's cheek, stopping him. “I know,” he assured him. He leaned in, giving Tommy a soft kiss. Tommy sighed into it, the tenseness from the day leaving his body.

“I think we should order out,” Buck said once they parted. “Dinner's starting to smell a little charred.”

Tommy's eyes widened. “Oh God,” he said, rushing over to the burnt pot of food on the stove.

“So, did they say anything about me on the news?” Buck asked cheekily as Tommy turned off the stove and dumped the pot into the sink. “Come up with any good nicknames?”

“Oh, actually, yeah,” Tommy replied. “They were calling you the Rodent Rescuer.”

Buck's face fell. “You're kidding.”

Tommy smiled. “I'm not.” He walked back over to Buck, pressing another gentle kiss to his lips. “I prefer Hamster Hero,” he said, smacking Buck's ass playfully as he headed into the living room to get his phone and order some food.

Buck smiled. “I hate you,” he said, plopping down on the couch beside Tommy.

Tommy wrapped his arm around Buck, pulling him to his chest. He leaned down and kissed the top of his head, running his fingers through Buck's hair. “Yeah, I hate you too.”

#911 #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #tevan #buck x tommy #bucktommy fic #i read over it quickly but im sure there are errors sorry

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Buggy being furious at your lack of effort to find him…

It had been a morning. Buggy's crew were out of sync without their ringleader and when you demanded that they pay you what you were owed, they threatened to lock you in a cage. Quickly realising that arguing was futile, you wandered through the empty tent with a huff and kicked every crate in sight.

Next time Buggy requested help you promised to drop him into the East Blue.

As you passed the arena ring, you heard grumbling. Pushing the striped curtains aside for a clear view, you quickly recognised the familiar brown coat and blue hair that had been missing for the past week.

Limping to a box, the pirate captain harshly opened the lid and let his missing foot jump out. He heard the jangle of bells above a curtain and turned to find you a few feet away.

He turned and hopped in your direction until his foot finally reattached and paused with a stomp.

“Thanks for the rescue.” He said bitterly. The sarcasm was duly noted given that no such thing had occurred. The clown stalked over to you and bobbed a little as he put forward his point.

“A note for future reference - when the Captain is missing… go find him!” He shouted.

You had had enough of pirate snark for one day and his attitude wasn’t helping. “I did." You bit back.

He scoffed and slowed his pace which felt a lot more dangerous. "Did you now?"

Shrugging, you gave the clown a nod to defend your answer. "Yes. For a good twenty minutes your crew searched and..."

The clown stopped suddenly a few paces away and stared at you with a deadpan expression.

"Twenty?" He repeated. "You gave up after a measly twenty minutes?!"

“You were catapulted out of the tent, Buggy. How the hell was I supposed to pinpoint your location?”

“Oh, I don’t know maybe spend more than twenty minutes searching?!” He yelled now very close to your face.

This wasn’t the first time he raised his voice. In fact, the more he did it, the sharper your tongue became which was something he seemed to enjoy.

“Watch the tone." You warned. "I am not part of your crew. You hired my services to help raid Shells Town and steal a map. All of this business with the stretchy kid was not part of our arrangement so my effort to even attempt to find you was a gesture of goodwill.” You told him. "You know where to find me with the berries I'm owed."

Stepping back to straighten your sleeves and end the conversation, you turned to leave… except, you smacked into Buggy’s nose.

“What the-?"

The clowns body caught up with the rest of him on your other side effectively blocking your exit. He raised his hands and gently brushed your shoulders from invisible dust with a sigh and a smile that appeared sweet but was actually laced with an incoming threat.

“Listen,” he began with a tone much softer than a few minutes ago. “I need that map to get some really scary people off my back."

"How is that my problem exactly?"

"Well since I haven't paid you, you're technically still under my employ. So if I’m screwed then so are you." With a small giggle of amusement, Buggy leaned forward. “Welcome to the circus.”

Shaking your head, you let out a sigh. "I'm going to fire you from a cannon one day."

~ More imagines here ~

#gif is not mine #theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #opla #one piece live action #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #buggy x reader #buggy imagine #buggy the clown x you #buggy the clown imagine #opla imagine #one piece live action imagine #opla x y/n #opla x you #opla x reader #opla!buggy x reader #opla!buggy imagine

[writingwithfolklore]

When your Antagonist is Also your Protagonist

                If there’s one thing humans are all really good at, it’s getting in our own way. Most stories have at least some element of protagonist against themselves—we create this block between our protagonist and what they want when we create their flaw.

                However, stories that rely on this conflict with self have to do a bit extra work. Internal motivations and antagonists are a bit more challenging, but still a valid way to introduce conflict into a story. Here’s three considerations for when your antagonist is also your protagonist:

1. What is preventing them from what they want?

This is the same question we ask ourselves when creating character flaws, but I think it deserves repeating here. There has to be something you can name that is standing in the way of your character, or this won’t work. It must be deeply ingrained, difficult to overcome, and effective in preventing them from getting what they want.

Maybe what they want is to ask out their crush, but they’re horribly shy. Or they want to take down their evil ruler, but they’re secretly in love with them. It’s important these are traits they can’t just snap their fingers and fix. Like, if your character really wants to win a weightlifting contest, the thing standing in their way can’t be that they’re just too weak, because people can work out and become stronger—that doesn’t make for a very compelling story, and it also doesn’t explain why they couldn’t have just done that sooner.

There’s a reason your character doesn’t already have what they want.

2. How will you use that to introduce conflict?

In order to be effective, this trait has to act as the antagonist, which means at every turn, they have to be thwarted by themselves. Maybe your character comes face to face with their crush and physically can’t talk and it comes off as awkward and weird. Or they’re approaching their evil ruler and can’t seem to pull the trigger.

Their inability to get over their trait should be frustrating and challenging for them. If it helps, think of it like a little invisible guy hovering over their shoulder and forcing them to do the opposite of what they want to do.

3. Other ways of standing in their own way

Characters can also be thwarted by their own minds in other ways. Some stories take the route of reality being unreliable, whether through drugs, mental illness, or a magical/fictional reason. Memento, the movie, is sort of an example of this, where because of Leonard’s memory condition, he’s unable to know who to trust or what the truth is, and what's a lie.

One of my favourite video games is Fran Bow, where the distorting of reality is both the problem and sometimes the answer.

                What are some other ways the protagonist can act as their own antagonist?

#when your antagonist is also your protagonist #writing #creative writing #writers #screenwriting #writing community #writing inspiration #filmmaking #books #film #writing advice #antagonists #writing antagonists

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Hi! I’m wondering if you would be willing to write a fic where the snobby wife of Emmett or Lenny wants to have a surrogate with an advanced method (which he agreed to because he’s faithful to his wife), instead of having a baby of their own because the wife didn’t want to ruin their body. While they’re searching for the candidate, they found Y/N and the wife didn’t want her as the surrogate, but he doesn’t give a damn and wants her to be the surrogate the traditional way which he didn’t care if it ruins his marriage.

Summary: The neighbor who plays games through the window happens to be a more than willing candidate to solve one of Lenny’s many marriage problems. Warnings: age gap (reader is 20), breeding kink, surrogacy, cheating (kinda), surrogacy, a fucked marriage, slight lactation kink mentioned

Thank you for the request! This is my first Lenny fic, hope you enjoy ❤️

The Millers had been married for nearly two years, Lenny’s wife Marsha was a force to be reckoned with. She owned her own catering business and after a year or two it took off and she began to bring in money, not being so kind to the potential customers that couldn’t afford her “top tier” service.

Sitting in the kitchen Lenny was enjoying his morning coffee (black of course), and ignoring the screeching sound of Marsha complaining about every thing under the sun, as if she didn’t always get her way.

Lenny swore that if breathed even remotely in her vicinity, she would get pissed off. There had been talks of a baby but with Marsha being infertile, the only option on the table was surrogacy.

Lenny already had a contender in mind, someone he’s had his eyes on for quite some time.

Ending the phone call she was on, she turned to her husband with curious look on her face. Funny how her mood changes as soon as she wants something from him.

“Did you find anyone yet dear? I haven’t had much luck.” Matter of fact he did, but whether or not she was going to agree was a different conversation that he could already presume the answer.

“Well what about Y/N? She’s young and in her twenties. She’d be great” His wife glanced at him with an incredulous look of disgust.

“The twenty year old across the street? Absolutely not, she’s a stuck up prissy little whore. Always walking around in those horrendous shorts and crop tops. I want our child to be sophisticated and wise not a bimbo Lenny. Find someone else.” His wife had never taken the time to get to know you the way he did. Rolling his eyes, he glanced across the street, seeing you sprawled out in the grass laying on your stomach reading a book on this hot summer day.

Lenny had wanted you for a long time now. There had been a continuation of stolen glances, innocent flirtatious banter. 

Unbenknownst to his wife, he spent an endless amount of time staring out the window, watching you put on a show for him trying on different lingerie, playing with your breasts and touching yourself. 

You were a delicacy he craved to indulge in.

Hearing the car door slam, he waited for his wife to be out of sight before walking over to your property, his tall silhouette blocking the sun and forming a shadow of your reading.

Glancing up, you lowered your sunglasses and purposefully propped your ass up. A mischievous smile smearing across your face.

“Mr. Miller! Can I assist you with something? ” You batted your eyelashes playfully before closing the engorging old novel. He took note you were reading the classical “The Great Gatsby.” He was always a fan of seeing young readers indulging in works of early literature.

“Actually you can, may we go inside and have a chat?” Giggling and smirking, you nodded for him to follow you into the house, offering him a drink in the process and insisting that he take a seat.

A part of you was curious what this handsome, impeccably clean man could want from you, was it sex? An affair? Maybe he was leaving his wife. 

“So what do I owe the pleasure Mr. Miller?” He folded his leg on top of the other, trying to hide the fact you didn’t call him Lenny or Leonard turned him on immensely. He tried not to stare at your ass as you reached for a glass on the top shelf of your kitchen, but your cheeks were nearly falling out at this point. Fuck how he’s tried to be a good husband, but the way Marsha has been lately, the caring aspect of his marriage was dwindling into nothing.

“Allow me to start of by saying you have a beautiful place. My wife actually, she wants to have a baby but she’s infertile. I was wondering if you’d want to do the honors? I know it’s a lot to ask, a lot to put your body through but-Oh!” His words diminished when you set the glass of water down and kicked apart his legs, placing your knee firmly against his growing shaft causing his breath to hitch in his throat.

“You want to put a baby in me? Is that it?” His crystal blue eyes seemed to wander to your cleavage that was sitting blatantly in front of his face. Tipping his chin up, demanding his eye contact you grazed your hand over his upper arm, gripping at the muscular tone of his bicep instead sending chills down his spine as he withheld a moan.

“Eyes are up here sweetheart…” His heart palpitated in his chest, arousal building as his brain went haywire from the alluring lock of yours eyes. Scanning and searching the older man with interest and  before taking his hand and settling it on the cushion of your boob.

“Ye-yes but not, not the injection way. I want to fuck you, I’ve been wanting to fuck you. We may have to do it a few times just to- to make sure it takes.” He gulped desperately, not even noticing the massaging movement of his hand on your breast.

Pulling away with a playful grin, you passed him his glass of water and returned to the sink when you noticed his wife’s car pull back into the driveway.

“How are you going to convince your wife? I know she hates me.”

Lenny chugged his glass, wiping at the sweat building at the nape of his neck, what he wouldn’t do to take you here, right over this god damn table. Standing from his seat, he held a firm stance and tucked his hands in his pockets.

“I can be very persuasive. I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t play with that pretty little pussy until I’m here, got it?” You nodded playfully at his demand and motioned for him to go.

Walking back to his house, Marsha was standing in the doorway leaning on the frame with fury in her eyes, but Lenny wasn’t having any if it.

Shoving past his wife, she began yelling obscenities, demanding to know why he was in your fucking house after she made it perfectly clear you weren’t an option.

He put her complaints to a hault, turning around and pointing his finger directly in her face.

“I’ve been more than willing to give you what you want but it’s about time that I get what I want. Don’t act like I don’t know about the emails with Steven or that you’ve been racking up debt with my credit cards. Let’s not forget I work for the god damn CIA, I’m not a fool like you make me out to be I think it’s only fair sweetheart. I will be fucking her, and you will agree or you won’t be getting a fucking baby. Not from me.” She stood there mouth agape left speechless. If she thought she had an upper hand she was sadly mistaken. Before she could protest Lenny simply raised an eyebrow before heading back across the street.

He’d taken his wife’s shit for far too long and it ends here regardless of possibly jeopardizing his marriage.

Bursting through the door with a pit of fire in his stomach, when he heard the shower running he ran up the stairs, patience non existent.

Ripping open the shower curtain, his sapphire eyes settled on your soapy body, causing you to scream from the sudden surprise. Before you had a chance to say anything he was stepping to the shower, drenching his close while he closed the distance and pressed your wet body against the wall, locking his lips with yours instantly taking your breath away while embracing the hot water drenching him.

He smelt of teakwood and mint, so alluring and consuming as your hands tangled in the strands of his once well combed hair, nails dragging and pushing his lips in closer, tongues intertwining and swirling in profound desire lust.

“I’m glad you made it to me, gonna breed me hm? Knock me up with your baby.” 

“Going til fill you to the brim over and over again til that tummy is plump.”

Dropping to your knees and undoing his zipper, you released his cock, eyes going wide with excitement when the eager member popped out, merely slapping against his abdomen.

Lenny knew he was big but he was mature and grateful about it and all he could think about was stretching that tight little pussy.

Gripping the shaft, your hand moved swiftly and slowly around the girth of his cock, massaging the sensitive skin before your lips enveloped the head os his cock.

An exasperated gasp escaped Lenny’s lips at the sudden warmth and slippery slope of your hallowed cheeks.

You moaned around his length, staring up at him with lustful eyes from your kneeling position. 

“Such a dirty girl.” He moved the strands of hair from the front of your face, locking the laces inbetween his digits watching you swallow his length fully, mascara flowing messily down your cheeks.

You were such a sight for sore eyes, he could feel his heart palpitate in his chest seeing you in such a vulnerable position bobbing your head up and down. If he stayed like this he wouldn’t last very long.

Lifting you up, he carried you into the bedroom, laying you down before aligning his cock with your dripping cunt, sliding inside of your tight walls effortlessly.

The sight of your flawless, young, nude body on didplay for him so up close and personal, sent a thrill up his spine, peaking his arousal.

Your nipples glowed in the sunlight, back arching in desperation from the stretch of him, your walls clenching to his every inch.

“You are indisputably insatiable.” He breathed out as your fingers trailed down his chest before pulling down by his neck into a fruitful kiss.

He pumped in and out of you relatively slowly, wanting to relish in the moment, focusing on your warmth squeezing his shaft, aching purely for him.

The feeling of disbelief that this was actually happening still fluttering around your mind as he stuffed you.

“Fuck me Lenny. I mean really fuck me.” He scanned your needing eyes, raising an eyebrow questioning whether or not your body could handle it.

“Don’t hold back, I need you to consume me, own me, right…now.”

Placing his hands on your thighs, he pulled your body down slamming you down onto his cock, bottoming out in your alluring sex.

“Oh! Fuck!” You bit down on your bottom lip from the feeling of being so full, making direct eye contact with his charismatic blue eyes as he fucked you relentlessly. Your boobs bouncing up and down ferociously fast with each power driven thrust.

“Can’t wait to see that tummy full with my baby, can’t wait to fuck you when your boobs are leaking milk and you’re begging to be fucked more than you are now. Fuck..” Beads of sweat formed at his temple, hair falling in front of his face while his eyes darkened, the animalistic sexual instincts kicking in. Your hands grasped at his shoulder, grinding down against his bush needing more and more, your pussy throbbing from the constant brushing of his cock against your clit. He was an experienced man and it was quite clear he knew how to pleasure a woman, turning you on even more.

“Fuck, fuck Lenny…wanna- wanna feel your seed- wanna-need to-“ Your words faltered as you crumbled beneath him, his eyes never leaving yours, noting the visible sexual distress you were in.

The sound of your desperate voice moaning his name making him pulsate inside you, he was on the edge, so close to cumming but he was a man of honor and determined to get you off first.

Lifting your legs, he placed your ankles around his shoulders, rutting into you, balls slapping against the bare of your skin.

His cock smacked against your cervix with each movement in this position. You wouldn’t last long, especially with his intimidating yet attractive stare. A man had never been so focused on you and your pleasure during sex until now.

“Want my baby in you? Want to feel my cum drenching that pretty pussy, hm?” Your lips parted, mouth falling open when your body convulsed, back arching as your orgasm approached very sneakily.

“Yes! Yes! Give me what your wife can’t fucking have…fuck, I’m going to fucking cum Lenny I’m..” Your breaths became staggered, moans becoming louder as your ankles locked behind his neck, toes curling at the anticipating high.

“Go on darling, cum for me, cum on my cock while I put a baby in you. Show me how much you needed me.” Within seconds your walls came tumbling down, your core shaking from the intensity of the euphoric, palpable orgasm.

Lenny watched as you come undone beneath him, and with one last detrimental thrust, you felt his cock pulsating and the pool of his seed coating your inner walls, rushing straight to your uterus.

He fell down on the bed beside you as you both tried to steady your breathing.

Glancing over at one another in a heated craze, he kissed you once more with profound passion.

“Water break?” You gulped, unsure if your overstimulated cunt could take it. Within twenty minutes you were right back at it.

The following weeks he continued to fuck you, wanting to ensure the chance of pregnancy to just get his wife to shut the fuck up about having a baby. She didn’t have to like who it was with, she should have been grateful that he would even give her what she wanted most, that you would help even though you both knew this was a selfish arrangement but then again, Marsha was the quern of selfishness.

Within a month you’d notice your period never showed. After taking three tests, you were stunned to read the results. 

Changing into an outfit you knew would piss his wife off, you skipped across the street with the tests in hand.

Knocking at the door with a wide grin on your face, to your surprise Marsha answered her smile turning into a deceitful frown when she saw the positive pregnancy sticks in your hand.

“Who’s at the door I’m expecting-“ Lenny’s words came to a hault when he witnessed the scene, his wife’s head turning back to face him in anger and resentment but he didn’t feel the least bit sorry, instead wanting Marsha to feel how she often made him feel, like shit.

“Well you’ve got what you wanted didn’t you? Go on thank Y/N for being such a kind service.” Through gritted teeth and possibly the fakest smile you’d ever seen she thanked you unwillingly kindly for being a such a big help. Forever knowing her husband fucked the neighbor girl, and that would not be the last time that her husband would be over there, regardless of the original arrangement.

#Lenny miller #leonard miller #anna #lenny miller x reader #lenny miller imagine #Leonard miller x reader #leonard miller imagine #requested #ranaewrites

[macsimagines]

Could I ask for Kisaki, Rindou, and Draken with partners that are insecure? Like they truly believe that their boyfriend/husband could do so much better than them

I've done this one already for Kisaki and Draken here but I can def do one for Rindou!! this is kind of like a part two to my EX! Ran Haitani headcanon set!! also idk why text colors are being weird i'll try to fix it later on

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI,

Yandere!Rindou Haitani

He loves you, adores you even. You're so soft and kind compared to his hard and mean. Rindou has always taken pride in being who he is. He's a Haitani brother, feared allover Tokyo and a ruler in charge of Roppongi.

But for you? Just you- He's Rin. Your loving boyfriend that is never too busy to spend time with you and never lacking in affection. He'll hold your hand gladly or throw a reassuring arm over your shoulder.

All the love in the world can't stop the thoughts in your head though. He's so much more than you'll ever be. You've seen him in action and his strength and overwhelming capabilities compared to your...to your anything just made you feel so dull in comparison.

Rin is beautiful, he catches the eye of every woman you walk past on the street. Rin is strong, he can beat men without breaking a sweat. Rin is powerful, he has people that flock to him at his beck and call and you are nothing.

"I just... I just think I'm holding you back," you tell him, over the phone because you're too much of coward to say it to his face, "I want... I want what's best for you-!" "What the fuck are you talkin' about, you're what's best for me! Baby-please-!" "I can't! I'm not enough, I'm sorry Rin."

And you hang up the phone, block his number. Its better this way, you're sure by this time next week he'll have moved onto someone else, someone better that could keep up with someone as amazing as him.

But then something unexpected happens. His brother comes looking for you. Rin warned you about him once, said that after a bad breakup with his girlfriend he hadn't been the same.

"I thought they got back together though?" you had asked him confused after he had told you. He never answered you back, just got this weird look on his face before giving you a warning; "Try not to get too close. And try not to piss him off."

Yet here he was, at your doorstep staring you down like you were the scum of the earth. Apparently you hadn't heeded the warning.

"Havin' fun?" he asks, not even blinking while he towers over you, and your voice is caught in your throat, too scared to even make a sound at the older Haitani. "Cause I'm sure fuckin' not."

And suddenly he's grabbing you by the hair so tight you're scared he's going to rip it from your skull, but no, he's dragging you out the door and down the steps of your apartment ignoring your cries and screams for help.

Muttering something the whole way to his car. Something like "...You bitches and the games you like to play. Fuck with our heads, you and my girl always got make fuckin' problems for us-"

Then he's shoving you into the passenger seat making sure you can't get out. One moment you feel like you've found your voice again and then the next it leaves you because Ran has a gun pointed right at you only seconds later.

"Your gonna fix this you ungrateful bitch," he spits, eyes so full of hate it makes you want to curl in on yourself, "Put my baby brother back together and act like you like it. Like you fuckin' love it. Or I'll kill you my damn self and make you regret makin' a fool out of the Haitanis. Do you understand, Y/N?"

You're not sure if you say yes or if you even or in affirmation before he's pulling out of the parking lot and speeding dangeroulsy to some unknown destination.

And you are crying, silently shaking and sobbing because you're so scared of what he's going to do and he's still holding the gun right at your head, muttering to himself yet again.

"I'll make it right- I'll fix him and he'll be ok- fuckin' women making us loose our goddamn minds-,"

Finally you pull into a warehouse, abandoned by the looks of it and new found fear arises in you- Is this where Ran is going to kill you? But no.... This is where Rin is.

You see him first, his eyes are dark and he looks so tired from his usual self, and his expression is so empty, so emotionless that you're worried for a split second but then you see...the man. At least that's what he used to be.

His face is beaten in, and his body is contorted in such a mangled way you're sure his limbs had been broken, and Rin is on top of him. Pummeling away at the already red and mangled face.

You can't help the small gasp that leaves you and you probably would've ran out there screaming had Ran not been holding you by the neck.

But your scream was enough to alert the younger Haitani, and he turns to look at you with eyes wild like an animals. "Y-Y/N?" he whispers standing on shaking legs, "B-baby is that you?"

It didn't matter how hard you tried you couldn't make out a single sound, too shocked by the scenes unfolding around you. Thankfully, Ran wasn't short on words....

"Ya, I brought Y/N here 'cause she has somethin' to say," Ran shoves you forward, making sure that the gun at his side is always within your view. A silent reminder of what he made you promise...

Rin doesn't let you get any words our before he's embracing you with bloodied hands, smearing another persons bodily fluid all over you... "Oh baby, please tell me you're back, please? Its been hell, I can't do this without you, I'm loosin' my fuckin' mind."

Its like your brain suddenly catches up with you. You have to say yes or else... "I-I'm back," you nod, hugging him back with shaking hands, "I'm... I'm sorry Rin."

And suddenly he's sobbing, pulling you away only so he could hold your face in his bloody hands to look into your eyes, "How could you do this to me, I love you so much,"

Ran once again, speaks. "You need to keep her in line," he tells his younger brother, much to your dismay, "Like I keep my girl. Don't worry. I'll teach you."

You could never leave Rin Haitani. Shame on you for even trying.

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere rindou haitani #yandere ran haitani

[kasagia]

❄️️Warm my heart pt. 6❄️️

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/ The Darkling x fem! heartrender! reader Summary: Lots of things are happening. And you're going to learn something completely new about Aleksander… Warning(s): furious Aleksander and his shadows shed blood; Word Count: 3,6 k Taglist:@aoi-targaryen @budugu @flostvs1508 ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova’s Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 5 ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 7 ~•♤♤♤•~

Dressed in a nightgown, you were already going to bed when suddenly there was a knock on your chambers.

You frown, not knowing who it could be at this late in the night. Well... you couldn't say you didn't have some hopes about the identity of your late-night guest.

"Aleksander?" you ask, opening the door.

There is no one there. You frown and walk out of the safety of your chambers. You take a look around, searching for anyone in the quiet, dark corridor. You notice that the torches have been extinguished faster than usual, leaving only one in the middle of the passageway.

You listen to your surroundings and hear the two heartbeats, which probably came from the guards patrolling the corridors. It does not arouse any suspicions in you, so you shrug and decide to go back to your room and ignore this strange situation.

You suspect that these are some young Grishas playing instead of sleeping. The youngest summoners have already played various tricks and jokes on the inhabitants of the Little Palace several times.

You change your mind when suddenly a wet cloth is pressed to your nose and someone's arms wrap around you. You fight against your attacker, trying to scream, but all you manage to do is scratch him. You fall limply to the floor as the substance takes effect, and before you completely pass out, you're kicked in the stomach.

Aleksander rubbed his hand over his forehead as he read the latest reports from the fold. Another failed transport. More Grishas were killed. He shuddered, placing the paper on the desk. This wasn't supposed to be like this. The Volcra were supposed to attack the king's men, the Fjerdans... not his people.

With every day in the Little Palace, with every news of his men dying in the fold... every time you offered to move to West Ravka with the others to personally supervise the transfer, he felt the bile rising in his throat. He would correct his mistake. He will move the fold and widen it so that it serves him as it should. He just had to get that stag and the powers of the Sun Summoner.

"General." Ivan enters the war room with Fedyor and Inferni. "We have a problem."

"As always." He sighs and gets up from the desk. He goes to the bar to pour himself some whiskey. "What happened this time?"

"There was an attack on the eastern wing. Alina was the target." he freezes for a moment, pours himself a drink, and turns back to his men.

"Sun Summoner?"

"Alive and safe. But it is not everything. The rebels took hostages. They barricaded themselves in the training room. They have Fjerdans' technology, blocking our powers. And…"

"And?"

"We can't find Y/N." Fedyor takes Ivan's place by delivering the news. Aleksander's eyes are fixed blankly on the heartrender as he processes his words.

This one sentence makes him stop seeing or hearing anything. He feels his shadows slowly begin to take over the room as he allows his power to slip away for a slight moment when he creates a plan in his head.

"I want all of you on the east wing. Every single one of you who is usually coming to the mission with me, no inexperienced greenhorns."

Before they can answer him, he already leaves the room and storms to where the rebels are supposed to be.

Aleksander was not famous for his mercy, and he certainly would not show it to those who dared to enter HIS palace. They wanted to kill his Sun Summoner and deprive him of the source of power that was a key element of his plan. But what sealed their long, painful, slow death at his hands and shadows was that they dared to take HIS SECOND-IN-COMMAND from him.

HIS HEARTRENDER. HIS Y/N.

He practically ran to the east wing. He didn't notice anything around him. All Aleksander could think about was you. He has already figured out seven different plans for how to rescue you and get you back into his arms.

Involuntarily, he remembered the last time he tried to save someone from his enemies... someone who had not made it out alive.

No. He shook his head and passed the Grishas, who were beginning to gather outside the training room at his command. You weren't Luda. He promised himself that you wouldn't end up like her... even if he had to create a second fold to protect you.

He vaguely remembers nodding at Zoya. She summoned a wind that blew the door off its hinges, and he entered first with the cut already formed and his shadows filling the room. He controlled himself enough not to kill anyone in the room until he located exactly where you were.

But the problem was that you WEREN'T there.

His heart sinks as he imagines you with a deadly wound, blood pouring out of you, forming a pool beneath you somewhere on the grounds of the Little Palace, a place that he made—a place that was supposed to be free from the death of any Grishas. ESPECIALLY YOURS.

"Where is my heartrender?!"

His question receives no answer. In a fit of rage, he growls menacingly, his shadows wrapping around one of the attackers. He dies practically on the spot, only able to utter a few screams that satisfy Aleksander enough to regain full control over himself.

He takes a few intimidating steps towards the man who is trembling the most of all the rebels on the ground, held down by Ivan. The sound of his heavy boots bounces off the floor and spreads throughout the completely silent room.

"I'll ask one last time." one step further. "Where." next step. "Is." he stands directly above him and puts his foot on his chest, pinning him to the ground. A little harder, and he knows he'll break a few ribs. "MY SECOND-IN-COMMAND?"

"She… she escaped… with some of yours..." he hums at this answer, pride rising within him to hear that his little heartrender managed to get out. And judging by the few dead bodies, she did it in style.

He presses his boot with greater force against the man on the floor. Spurs begin to dig into his chest.

"Wait! WAIT! I can tell you more! Do not kill me!" the man struggles beneath him, trying to relieve the pressure of the spur on his chest.

"You broke into my palace and wanted to kill the Sun Summoner and my second-in-command. Do you really think I will fulfil your pathetic cries for life?" one lifts his hand, and a small turn of the fingers and shadows surround the terrified man at his command. "Besides, I've heard enough from you. Not your screams, though..."

And with that, desperate screams began to echo throughout the room as he and his men interrogated the attackers.

You were sitting in the healers' infirmary. You were eating a cupcake when Fedyor was screaming at you.

"You are completely irresponsible! They could have killed you!"

"But they didn't." you say, munching on a muffin. The healer managed to heal most of your wounds before Fedyor arrived, but the heartrender managed to see the effects of your escape.

"We were worried. You're lucky the general didn't see what they did to you. They're lucky. Although I doubt he'll show them any mercy, they're probably dying anyway for daring to attack the Little Palace and trying to kill you as well as others of ours."

"Please, we both know where the general is now and where his priorities are." you huff, reaching for another cupcake that some nice healer brought you. You don't recall his name, though.

"Where, supposedly?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

"With Alina." you say, shrugging. Disbelief crosses your friend's face before he groans loudly in torment. You frown at him in confusion. "What? Am I wrong? After all, she was the target. He's probably wiping her tears away with his handkerchief or something."

"I have no strength against you. How many times do I have to tell you that he doesn't want Alina? And not. Don't start with your stupid nonsense about equals, more equals, fate, or opposites attracting. It doesn't work like that here between them. The sooner you get off your ass and do something, the shorter I will have to endure your outbursts of jealousy, and Ivan will have to endure the general's outbursts."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Please, who do you think tracked down who you were corresponding with and intercepted Mal's letter for him? Ivan didn't even have time to finish his report. He ran out of the war room as if he had been scalded, almost crumpling Ortsev's letter in his hand. I remember because I was walking Genio to the Grand Palace, and we almost stepped under his feet. It's good that he controls himself and doesn't summon his shadows in a fit of emotion, because every week, even every day, we would have to organise funerals for our people because our general created a second fold because of you."

You blush slightly and clear your throat before taking another muffin.

"And yet he's not here."

"Because I believe that right now he is disembowelling those who knocked you out as an act of his undying love for you." you roll your eyes at him. You both shut up as the healer returns with some vials for you.

"Here. Just in case the dizziness persists." you smile sweetly at him and thank him while taking the vials from him. The healer blushes slightly. Fedyor rolls his eyes at you and clears his throat.

“Let's go, Y/N. Before there are any more wounded… or dead.”

"I'll join you soon." you say, nodding at him to leave.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." he sighs in defeat and leaves the infirmary.

You turn around, giving your full attention to the healer. He was sweet. And after everything that happened, he was a nice break from your daily dramas. Plus, he had something you really liked.

"Is that a moonstone?" you ask with a kind smile, pointing to the bracelet he was wearing.

"Oh yes." he says sheepishly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "A durasts friend did this to me. Some people believe that it can help attract love into one's life."

"Aww. That's really beautiful." you see how he becomes ashamed under your gaze.

"Umm…thank you. If I can help you in any way, you know where to find me." you nod and thank him once again before he disappears into the glove compartment, probably to restock medical supplies.

You sigh and jump to the ground from your seat in the medical chair. You take another cupcake. You are unwrapping the paper around it when suddenly the door to the infirmary opens with a loud bang.

You turn around, coming face-to-face with Aleksander. The tension on his face strangely disappears the moment his eyes meet yours. You see (and hear through his heartbeat) how he relaxes at the sight of you.

"Y/N." he sighs and walks over to you as his steps in his heavy shoes echo in the silence of the still-empty sall.

Before you can do anything, his hands tangle in your hair, bringing you close to him as his lips catch yours in a sudden kiss.

You gasp in shock, still holding a cupcake in your hand. You moan as you realise what he is doing and start to respond to his kiss.

At first, he gently brushes his lips against yours, testing the waters to see how far he can go with you. When he realises that you are willingly moving your lips and tongue against his, he makes it deeper.

You are pulled closer to him. His other hand is grabbing your waist and pressing you against him, making sure to feel every little inch of your body.

You tremble at the feeling of his hands all over you. And you want more. Much more than this.

When your tongue meets his, you feel like you are in heaven. He moans as he tastes the chocolate in the muffins you've been eating and kisses you with even more zeal.

You're lost to everything else; it is only you and him. His body against yours; his lips, stealing your breath and hands, holding you still on the ground.

His hand cups your cheek gently, his thumb caressing your skin tenderly with all the delicacy he has, which you are probably the only one witnessing. You feel his wandering hand finally land on your neck, right where your pulse is, which is now beating much faster because of him.

He presses his hand there, wanting, at all costs, to feel your heart palpitations. And as you try to process any thought in your brain that doesn't involve his lips on yours, you realise that right now you would do anything for him... in fact, you always have, and you would do anything for him. And it scares you just as much as it fills you with that strange, warm feeling. You know how it's called, but you were still too afraid to admit it to yourself.

So you decide to enjoy the moment. Your hands land in his hair, pulling him closer to you. Only his soft, breathtaking moan makes you realise where you are and that no one should definitely find you making out with the General... at least not until you're sure what you're feeling towards him.

Despite his tight grip on you, you manage to pull away just enough so that his lips don't capture yours again and take your mind off you with his silver tongue.

"Aleksander..." you whisper, your voice shaky and hoarse. And if you look the same as him, then you have red, slightly swollen lips, dishevelled hair, and wrinkled kefta.

"I thought… I thought they got you for a while…" he admits, resting his forehead against yours. You see all the dark thoughts come back to him again as he frowns and closes his eyes. You cup his cheek and stroke it with concern, trying to snap him out of all the bad scenarios he's prepared in his head. "When Fedyor said you were here… I thought the worst."

"I'm tougher than you think. And you really should listen to the end of what they have to say." you try to joke, but the look he gives you shows that he's not finding it funny in this situation at all.

"I don't want to find out. Ever." he says, pressing you to his chest in a tight embrace. "I need you to be safe… All of us need it…"

"Don't." you say, tilting your head to look at him. His dark eyes stare into yours as if hypnotized. "Just don't do this shitty talk. I... not after this."

"Maybe you've right... I think it's too late for us, isn't it?" he asks. You both know the answer, but you're not ready to say it out loud yet. This is enough for you for now. Being in the safety of each other's arms. "Let's get out of here. I believe you want to get back to your chambers."

"Not exactly." you say, shuddering at the memory of what happened to you a few hours ago.

"I should've made them pay worse for what they did…" he begins threateningly, thinking about these men, but he softens at the sight of your anxious state—a very rare sight that already makes his heart ache. "C'mon, milaya. I will take care of you." he takes your hand in his so gently and tenderly that you're sure you'd follow him to hell if he wanted.

But all he wants is to hold you as close to him as possible.

And you let him. Without any hesitations.

You were lying on his bed. Your kefta was folded and laid on the chair. He took his own off a long time ago since it was all covered in blood.

You were just cuddling. His face was nuzzled into your neck as you ran your fingers through his hair. You both needed this moment of closeness between you. To feel at least a little peace in the other's arms, tender touch, and lazy kisses placed on various parts of the body. The fact that he was shirtless only helped.

"Fjerdans found out that Sun Summoner was getting stronger. They sent some of their people here to kill her. They managed to get into Little Palace, just like it was a damn park. Also… Alina told me you were the one who rescued her."

"I did." you confirm, too busy with drawing patterns on his bare back (he insisted on taking off his shirt, even though you could see there wasn't any blood on the black material) to show much interest in talking about Alina.

"Why?"

"What why? Aren't you happy?"

"I am. But… Ivan told me that… she isn't your favourite person."

"You should stop asking other people about me. You are not at war with me; you do not need to find out about my weaknesses, preferences, tell others to keep an eye on me, and other things before confrontation. You just need to ask me. Besides, I like Alina. She is an amazing friend and sweet soul."

"But?"

"But… she just makes me… question my position at your side." you admit, ashamed. He grabs your chin softly and makes you look into his eyes as he grabs your hands in his.

"If I know something, I know that you belong here." he says, placing a kiss on your joined hands. "So never doubt in anything… there is… there is no one else like you. And I don't mean your powers. I mean you. My Y/N. The one who didn't turn her back at me. The one who can see through my façade and see the real me and who trusts my judgement without any questions… well, usually." he makes you laugh, at which he is smiling, admiring the sound he loved more than any music he has heard in the long centuries he has lived.

"You are my general." you say, shrugging your arms. As if it were enough of an answer to his words.

"Only?" he asks, with an almost teasing smile on his face.

"No... not anymore." you admit, making him blush a little.

He cleans his throat and wraps his arms tighter around you. He places a kiss on your temple and sighs.

"I have been waiting a long time for... for something like this." he whispers in your hair.

You prop yourself up on your elbow and kiss him sweetly and lovingly. He deepens the kiss, cupping your cheek into his hand and pulling you closer to him so you're underneath him. His hand wanders under your blouse when suddenly there's a knock on his door.

You both moan softly in unison and in disbelief. You reluctantly pull your lips away from him and he rests his forehead against yours.

He licks his lips, shifting his gaze from your eyes to the door. You laugh at how undecided he is looking right now. You can't help but kiss him softly.

"Go. I will wait here for you." you assure him with a true smile of utter happiness.

You see a disgruntled frown form on his forehead as he knits his eyebrows. He sighs heavily and reluctantly gets out of bed and goes to the closet. You roll onto your stomach and swing your legs as you watch him choose clothes from his closet.

"You'd better do it." he says, putting on his shirt. He smirks at you teasingly when he sees you staring at his chest.

He leans towards you and tangles his hand in your hair, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. You moan into his mouth as he bruises yours in a searing kiss, as if he's trying to make sure you won't forget the feeling and taste of his lips on yours.

"You really should go." you whisper, pulling away from him and laying back on the pillows.

"Are you that willing to kick me out of my own bed?" he asks, stroking his hand over your ankle and moving his hand higher to your knee. You curse the pants you're wearing now.

"Contrary. That's why you have to go now." he doesn't take your words to heart. He leans over you and tucks your hair behind your ear.

"Don't move from here." he whispers before pressing his lips hungrily onto yours one last time. You moan as his hand gently cups your neck, positioning you at a better angle for him to freely play with your tongue.

The bastard takes your breath away again and leaves you blushing on his bed. Before he leaves, he gives you one last long look and gives you such a wonderful smile that you can't help but watch him until he disappears out the door.

You sigh, laying back on the pillows and placing your hand over your mouth as you allow yourself to giggle with happiness like a stupid, lovestruck teenager. You completely forgot everything that happened today. All that mattered was him and how he felt pressed against you.

You hear a knock on his door. Without much thought, you get out of bed and walk over to them, fully convinced it's Aleksander.

"Did you forget something?" you ask, opening the door only to see the only person you didn't expect to see ever in your life again. "Baghra?"

#general kirigan #the darkling #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova x y/n #darkling #shadow and bone #the darkling x reader #aleksander kirigan #miniseries #christmas #darkling x reader #the darkling x you #darkling shadow and bone #grishaverse #shadow and bone au #aleksander morovoza #general kirigan x you #general kirigan x reader #fools in love #hopelessly in love #crush #romance #the darkling x y/n #darkling x you #first kiss #cuddling and touching #cuddles #kissing

[prettyoatmeal]

Love to Hate Each Other (König x Fem!Reader)

Hello!! I promise I'm not dead!!! I've been super busy recently and had some writers block but I'm doing better now!! I'll be finally answering the requests I've had and upload some more from my drafts :)

CONTENT WARNING: Smut <333 Hate sex, unprotected sex, creampie, size difference, enemies to lovers, arguing, pettiness, sexual and non-sexual degrading (receiving and giving).

SUMMARY: You’d been a part of TF141 for a while now as their best sniper, however, it was recently stated that KorTac would team up with you lot for a mission. You’ve been training with him since and got that little bit of extra skill in your possession, you have the upper hand which drives König mad. You were put in charge of him as to test your leadership skills however it doesn't go as planned.

Word Count: 2926

Masterlist here!

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

The fucking nerve of him. Would it kill him to show you just a little bit of respect? It had happened all too quickly. The way his voice boomed at you could've killed you in an instant. All you could do was think back to the argument.

...

"Can you stop shooting at me for fucking once, König?" You'd sneered at him after getting to the safe house. "I know I'm a better sniper than you but you don't need to be all petty 'bout it." "I'm sorry, maybe if you weren't snooping around and staying at your dedicated post like you were supposed to, I wouldn't have shot at you." He wanted to slam the door but knew better than to create another loud bang, "and you're not a 'better' anything than me, your ego is just too high."

"Oh, really? Then why did YOUR commander put you under my supervision for this mission, huh?"

Those words made let out him growl under his breath. He knew the truth, though he was too stubborn to admit. You had skill, but he just didn't and to give you that satisfaction.

"Forget it, just keep your whiny voice down. Don't need anyone hearing us a mile away." His accent got thicker as he hissed his words out at you. "My voice down? Really? Maybe if you hadn't given our spots away every ten minutes, we wouldn't even need to be hiding here! You ought to fix that little issue of yours.”

And that’s what set him off.

“You know what I think your issue is, little miss perfect? I think your problem is that you’re not ready to being a leader, yet they put you in charge of me anyway and you go along with it, ja?” With each word he spat out, he took a step towards you. “I am fully capable of working on my own. YOU left your post. YOU put yourself in danger. You don’t get to be an incompetent little rat then proceed to blame me for it.”

With large steps he’d leaned over you. His piercing eyes felt as if they'd stabbed you, looking down at you with anger, annoyance, disappointment through his hood. You could hear those words become unfamiliar, fuzzy, distorted. Guilt set in.

"You may be a better sniper than me, but you'll never gain that role of leader. It was a mistake they made to put you in charge of me."

König was never one to take advantage of his height with his teammates, he wasn't like this in general. He had a lot of pent up anger towards you, and by god you were scared out of your mind. But you couldn't show that. Not now, you couldn't let him know how much he frightened you. But he knew. He could easily tell. And so you just stood there with an unchanging composure, taking any of the words he'd hurled at you.

"I don't need someone to tell me what to do, and especially not someone like you. Go sleep your bitchy attitude off, I'll take first watch." And with that, he stormed away from you.

...

The bed was uncomfortable. But you weren't sure if it was the bed or if it was the tension in the room. You couldn't sleep. So you just laid there on your side, the argument rerunning itself over and over and over again in your mind. You were uneasy, on edge around him, even if his attention wasn't focused on you. Just being in the same room as him was enough. Yet you still felt petty enough to need to have the last word.

"You're an asshole." Muttering it out made your heart race, but you couldn't care any less.

The rustling of whatever he was doing stopped and after a while, you heard him let out a groan of irritation, muttering something in German under his breath.

"Will you quit it? It's over and done with. Hush up and go to sleep."

The way he'd growl at you to quit talking sent goosebumps over your body out of fear, yet you couldn't bring yourself to keep yourself quiet.

"No, I'm not going to quit." You'd said as you sat up from that uncomfortable mess called a bed. "You're an asshole. You need to hear that." You'd shot him a look of disgust as his eyes met yours from across the room. The lights were dim, but you could still see him quite clearly. You could feel as the air became thick again, the tension between you two growing once more.

"What are you expecting out of bringing it up again, Miss Perfect?" He'd shot back as his eyes glanced back to god knows what he was that he was doing, you couldn't quite make it out.

You'd yanked your legs over the edge of your so called bed, "I think you're forgetting I'm still in charge of you. I'd certainly accept an apology."

He didn't even look back up at you, it was as if he couldn't care any less.

"For what? Hurting your feelings?" He teased.

"You were extremely disrespectful and-"

"And nothing. Go back to sleep." He’d groaned, feelings of annoyance filling his system. Cutting you off just like that. But you were taking none of it.

“What is your problem with me!?" You'd stood up, making your way over to where he was sitting. Your own lips curled to a snarl, pointing fingers. "You have no reason to be so pissy with me, I've done nothing to you!"

This wasn't a common occurrence. Not for you. But he'd really ticked you off. König was being difficult, and you were too, but that didn't take away from the fact that you had no idea what he was so upset about with you. What he was REALLY upset about with you. As terrified as you may be by the hunk of the man, you weren't going to let yourself be demeaned by him.

You could see his eyes narrow at your words. His figure rose, towering over you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt your knees getting weak at the sight of the beastly stature leaning towards you.

"You really want to get into this, sweets?" Hands on his hips.

"I'm not going to let myself be degraded by you! Let alone someone I'm supervising."

And so you stood there, staring each other down. The tension was thick enough to cut with scissors. König, the very person you'd been training with for the past few weeks, standing over you for the very sake of intimidation. You'd almost thought he'd raise a hand at you, but you knew that he'd known better than to do such a thing. The person you'd become good acquaintances with staring down at you, seething, fury in his eyes.

"You want to know why I'm so upset?" jabbing his gloved finger at your chest, he took a step which caused you to take one back. He leaned down, making sure you'd hear every last word which escaped his mouth. "You know how much it kills someone when someone has the skills with a sniper you could only dream of? When you've been in the game for longer than you could imagine, and some little girl who's barely been in the game suddenly has the upper hand."

You couldn't believe it. Your eyes softened for a second before your expression had contorted again, taking a hold of his wrist with an iron grip and pulling it away from your chest.

"You've got to be kidding me..." you sighed, "this whole time your problem was THAT!?"

His eyes stayed focused on you with no sign of leaving.

"God, I hate you so fucking much." You snarled with a sick chuckle. This whole argument could've been avoided.

"The feelings' mutual, Schatz."

His face was so close to yours, you could practically feel his hot breath through the hood he had been wearing. Your hand was still latching onto his wrist, though your hand was starting to give in from putting all your pressure into your grasp.

You had nothing else to say, so you stayed silent. You both did, eyeing each other down to the core. It took a good while before you two had taken glances to the side where you held his wrist put. It seemed you'd both had the same idea as your grip loosened before he mirrored your wrist with his, taking your wrist into his palm. It fit perfectly. The way his hand could so easily wrap around it, taking a tight hold. It made your knees weak.

Your breathing quickened as you kept your eyes on his. The tension continued to thicken, though not just anger this time. There was something else filling the air. The feeling of that intimacy lurked around you two. It was too intimate for your liking, but you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. Your cold eyes glanced back to König's, but he wasn't looking at you anymore. No. His attention was centred on your lips. Fuck. You knew what would be coming next.

One minute, you two were ready to tear each other's heads off, the next, you two were making out. His lips against yours, hungry. Starving. Forceful, but not, both at the same time. The way his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer, before he made you take some steps back enough for your calves to hit the frame of that pitiful thing you have been calling a bed.

You pulled away to catch your breath, a string of spit still connecting you two before the fabric of his masked fell to cut that string apart. He'd pushed you back as if he was in a rush, like if he was catching a train in an hour, lifting your legs so they'd wrap around his hips.

"If you really hated me, you wouldn't let me all up on you like this." He let out a sly chuckle as his hands pinned your wrists to you sides.

"Shut your fucking mouth and keep kissing me." You ordered, looking away from him in a bashful manner.

"Yes, Ma'am." He replied as he guided your hand to push the fabric of his mask away, revealing his lips once more before they crashed against yours. You both needed to let off some steam, it seemed that this was the most efficient way for the two of you.

You let out a small whimper as König began to move his hips against yours, grinding against down onto you. It wasn't long before he'd removed your trousers and pushed his middle finger inside you. He'd sucked on it a little beforehand to coat it with saliva, but it wasn't like it was needed anyway. You were practically soaking by the time he'd pushed it in, and it wasn't long either until he'd begun to curl his finger inside you which made you whimper at the feeling. He felt so much better than your fingers alone.

"Look at you, so wet already. Think you're ready for another finger?"

You couldn't help but tighten around his fingers already as he pushed a second finger inside you. You'd muttered a small 'fuck' under your breath at the feeling, earning a small hum of approval from König. His fingers could easily hit against that bundle of nerves. He knew he found it once you let out that cry of pleasure, making him chuckle as he rapidly pressed against the same spot over and over again which made you let out a symphony of moans and whimpers as your wetness grew.

He soon decided you were ready, becoming rather impatient as he'd quickly slide down his bottoms to reveal his growing erection. Your eyes gawked at him for how big he was. How would it ever fit.

"You sure you want to do this? Can't guarantee I'll be able to stop once we're started." His voice was low, the arrogant undertones tied in with the way he spoke irritated you.

You nodded.

With no time wasted, he lined his tip against your pulsing cunt before pushing into you. You let out a long sigh in unison with him as you felt him stretch you out with a mix of pain and pleasure. It wasn't long before he'd started moving in and out of you, and soon your voices filled the room along with the slapping noises of repeated skin-on-skin contact, making your eyes flutter closed as your legs wrapped around him.

The way he moved inside you was different. It felt different. It wasn't like anything you'd felt before. Perhaps hate sex was your new biggest turn on. Oh boy. This definitely wasn't going to be a one time thing. You could already tell.

You could feel yourself getting closer, and you could very much feel the way König was throbbing inside you. The bed creaked non-stop, the room reeked of sweat and sex, with no feelings behind it. Just sex. And goodness, did it feel good. Mustering up the strength, you propped yourself up onto your elbows to take in the sight of the man pounding into you. And like that, your eyes met his once more. Half closed with the slightest distortion, he let out a low chuckle as he gripped onto your wrists once more and pinned them next your head. With a single, extremely forceful thrust, he was able to hoist your hips up further against him, almost like in a mating press. The new position allowed him to hit a whole other region, able to slam against your g-spot over and over again, causing a harmony of whimpers and moans to emerge from your throat which you just weren't able to hold in. You were so lost in the pleasure, as you almost couldn't comprehend what König was speaking. Leaning down to press his lips against your neck, he whispered to you;

"See, Schatz? You're so much prettier when you're not unnecessarily running your mouth."

That stupid nickname. That stupid term of endearment he used on you drove you insane. Well, did he hate you or not? You could never tell. The way his hands slipped upwards, unballing your fists so he could intertwine his fingers with yours, the way he'd pound into you as rough as he could yet he'd still make that time to hold onto your hands, the way his lips would brush over bruise and bite mark he'd leave on your skin. It was all so confusing. So mind boggling. It made you want him even more.

"Y-You don't- oh fuck.. -hold the hand... of the person you hate during sex.." You'd managed to choke out a single sentence between König's thrusts. And he was having none of it.

"Shh, shh.." He'd shush you, "Halt die Klappe, stop fucking talking... stop talking. Keep quiet for me, Schatz." His hips began to slam against you faster, making sure to hit against every nook and cranny inside you. Schatz. That word echoed in your mind.

You were in no room to argue again so you did as you were told, you stopped talking and let your moans continue to spill out. You could feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm by the second, and it was only a matter of time before he removed a hand from your wrist and moved it between your legs, his fingers moving against your clit in a circular motion. He knew what you wanted, and he was going to give it to you. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears. His hot breath hitting against your sensitive, overly bruised neck, the way his fingers circled your plump bud, the way his thrusts felt like there was still no end in sight was all too much.

Taking in a deep breath, you rolled your eyes back before squeezing them shut. You were unable to hold back that loud cry of pleasure as your orgasm hit you like a tsunami, coming fully undone to those fingers of his. You could feel yourself pulsing and throbbing against his fingers, your hearing gone fuzzy by the time. You squeezed tightly around König's cock, in complete euphoria as he made you ride out your orgasm. Your hips bucked against his as you just barely opened your eyes again.

"Oh, Schieße... (Y/N)!" He'd moaned out as he pulled away from your neck and crashed his forehead against yours, gripping onto the flesh of your hips as he practically pulled you into him with each slam. One more thrust and he'd let out a final moan before filling you up with his seed. There was... a lot. You could feel his cum oozing out of you before he even pulled out.

Your breathing was heavy, both of you coming down from cloud nine. The best sex, and best orgasm, you'd ever had.

"You don't hate me." You were the one to speak first. The fabric of König's mask was pushing up against you every now and again with each heavy breath he'd release, "you don't kiss someone and hold their hands like that when you hate them..."

His eyes opened, staring right back at yours,

"You seemed like the type to need that emotional support, I was simply just trying to provide it."

"So you do still care about me."

He went silent before he closed his eyes again, burying his 'face' into your neck.

"... Halt die Klappe,,"

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

#könig headcanons #cod mw2 #könig mw2 #könig cod #call of duty #konig cod #Konig mw2 #Konig x reader #König x reader #König fluff #König imagines #Konig imagines #mw2 x reader #Konig fluff #König smut #Konig smut #mw2 smut

[beeseverywhen]

Still thinking about that poll lol

Like I think if it's asking if I'd let someone in/ give someone a chance to force their way in, that's another matter entirely. I don't let anyone in my house that I don't know without a prior appointment, if the landlord sends someone I go out to talk to them and ask for id ect.

I do think maybe things are a bit different because there are two doors in to my house though? They've got to ring my intercom for me to let them in to the building and then I've got to unlock and open the door to my individual home for them to get in. That makes things feel a lot more secure

My neighbours know me/ my extended family and are (somewhat excessively) defensive of me so if someone did try to force their way in to my home I could scream for them (and honestly the majority of my neighbours are scarier than any potential home invader lol. My bets are on whatever neighbour has heard me yelling and taken offence on my behalf)

I think it's important for ppl to remember that most victims of violent crime know their attackers. I've lived in a situation where strangers were considerably safer than the people I was living with. It gives you a different perspective I suppose. I do feel safe in my home, but it's a safety I built. I'm under no illusion that violence in the home is statistically most likely to come from people you do know and who are there on your invitation. People in the notes are mentioning that ppl who answer the door are privileged to not have reason to feel unsafe and honestly I feel like often it's the opposite! Violent crime isn't some far off thing that I've only heard about on podcasts and in true crime books, and my past has given me the perspective to assess risks in a way that is different to how people might think of these things if they only hear about these things second hand. You can be cautious but there's no sense in living your life in fear. Bad things happen sometimes, you can't avoid that and it's a lot less likely to be cause you answered the door to the wrong person than it is, you unfortunately misjudged a friend/partner/acquaintance.

People talk about living in a high crime area making you more cautious...I see where you are coming from and I don't personally consider our neighbourhood to be particularly dangerous, however, I'm not sure if someone else would agree. We get quite a bit of alcohol related crime, so like fights, broken windows ect. Several of my neighbours do have criminal records for violent crime, but frankly, I know they wouldn't hesitate to defend me should someone unsavoury follow me home/ try to force their way in, and my bets are on my neighbours being scarier than them.

If you move in to a 'dangerous neighbourhood' from somewhere else and don't know anyone then yeah, I can see why you'd be cautious/ scared. But if you know your neighbours and are considered one of them, they'll keep an eye out for you? Don't get me wrong, if my neighbours are drunk and irrationally angry about something then yeah I may well pretend I don't hear them knocking and figure we can deal with whatever it is when it's not 3am. But like... even if one of them got weird ideas and seemed to represent a danger, the rest of them wouldn't accept it so it would be fine.

I feel a lot safer here than I have living anywhere else even tho statistically there is more crime, and my neighbours probably arent what most would consider to be the best neighbours from a safety perspective. (There's a history of major crime in this building & ppl haven't really forgotten, especially as the person involved still lives here) because a) there's no threat of violence from those living in MY home. b) there are lots of people around always, as its a shopping/restaurant area and any housing is flats so pretty high density. so if you yell loud enough someone will always come and c) they know me round here so whoever hears will come, and they will defend me if needed

People get so weird about being sus of the ppl they live near and it only makes things less safe? If you know your neighbours, they'll keep an eye out for you, and you them. If everyone's so scared of everyone they never leave their houses, nobodies gonna be outside to see anything out of the usual and nobody feels any sense of loyalty towards each other, so it's more dangerous?

#as i was typing this my doorbell rang lol #was some random lady complaining her car was blocked in and was determined to keep ringing every bell for our block till she found them #got her to show me her car and it was nowhere near our part of the carpark? and our spaces were free? i was like. that's 100% not any of us #speak to one of the houses on the other side or try the flats without spaces. it isn't anyone here #the ppl who park here for work are particularly annoying. they all drive audis and bmws and drive like idiots and they are entitled as fuck #they are always convinced any problems are caused by our block cause its social housing and completely ignore the posher places #anyway. had i ignored her i would have had to sit here listening to her leaning on the intercom of every flat so. answering worked well lol

[adora-but-ginger]

(Not So) Champagne Problems

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader

summary: he had infuriated you, and you deserved a drink.

word count: 3.2(ish)

warnings: drinking, reader being at a bar, intoxication, drunk!reader, swearing, a stabbing and an injury, angst but also fluff don't you worry, a little bit of klepto tendencies, no y/n used, mentions of death?, brief talk of a lack of self-care, miguel having feeeeelings

a/n: it's one am and i crunched this out in two days so no beta we die like men (gender neutral). also since i don't speak spanish i used spanishdict.com, but if i messed anything up please let me know and i will fix it!

masterlist

one more thing! don't repost my stories, otherwise i can sense a real nasty cold coming your way that will last just long enough that it becomes annoying, and when you think it's gone it will come back for another week. don't be like that, you don't want that, do you?

thank you for reading! -ella

credit to gif owner!

By now, the sun had long set, and your vision was a little blurry.

You had to have been on what, four? Five drinks? And were surely going to be cut off if you asked for another. But you fucking deserved these drinks, after what Miguel had put you through. He had the nerve to bench you after you saved his life.

The only other thing he had was the audacity.

As you placed the remnants of the fruity drink back down on the bar, your mind swirled with what had gone down earlier that day.

"Where's our anomaly at?" You heard Peter B shout from behind you, a giggling mayday in the baby carrier attached to his front.

"I'm rounding on them now, Miguel do you see them from up top?" How Jess could speak into her comms without the wind from her bike getting picked up was beyond you. You were swinging through a train tunnel of this particular universe, tasked with trying to catch the anomaly alongside Peter B from below. Jess took the road route, and Miguel took the birds eye--there was no way this villain of the week had a shot at escaping.

"Yeah Jess, eyes on them now. Heading down."

Woof. Miguel got on your nerves more than you'd like to admit, but man did his voice send a shiver down your spine.

"We're existing the tunnel now, eyes on them." You answered for Peter and you, checking back to make sure he was still good before the light of the day enveloped your vision.

One thing led to another, and soon enough you saw what was going to happen before you could warn him. There was the anomaly, fighting Miguel, who stood with his claws out and fangs bared. This anomaly could phase between states of solid and liquid, and just as Miguel was about to paralyze them, they switched states, forming back to solid right behind him.

And sure, maybe you had a certain lack of self-preservation that made the team a little concerned, but you had lost enough in your life to get to that point. So that's why when you moved to block the anomaly's strike from Miguel instead allowing the hit to come to you, you didn't think much of it. In fact, you'd gotten your hopes up thinking that he might even be grateful.

But no, he was most certainly not. The anomaly was quickly taken down afterwards, the familiar glow of Miguel's red eyes painting your vision every now and then as the job finished up. The anomaly had stabbed you, not in anywhere too concerning, but it still hurt.

From there it was a bit of a blur, with images of the portal and the team and Miguel running through your mind, until you were in the infirmary with stitches in your shoulder and the tall brooding man towering over you with his arms crossed.

"You were stupid." He had said in the infirmary.

"A thank you would have been nice. My shoulder is the same height as your heart, and the anomaly had a perfect shot." You had scoffed at him, and his face had flashed with a look mixed between anger and something you couldn't quite place.

"And what if they missed and had gotten your neck instead? In no universe do I want to deal with you dying, especially right in front of me, for me." His tone had developed a softer edge toward the tail end of the sentence, his jaw clenching. He hated the vulnerability, and you saw right through him.

You weren't too sure what you and him were, in terms of a label. Sure, you'd been one of the first spider-people to be recruited into his (not so) little boy band, and sure you had seen glimpses of him that no other spider-person had seen, but the latter had only been done late after hours between shared cups of tea or as he laid in bed falling asleep holding you. But then again, he always had that stoic look to him otherwise, with his mountain of an ego and his asshole-like behavior.

It was complicated with him.

"Plus, I would have to deal with mess of your death." There it was.

You rolled your eyes and stood to get up, him walking to your side to help you maintain balance from the pain of your cells rapidly healing.

"For the next few missions, I want you back with Lyla."

You turned to him then with anger washing over you. "You're benching me?"

"Yes, until you can prove you're not going to do something as reckless as that again."

And then the argument broke out, and he fought you on your recklessness and its consequences. Well, fuck him then.

He never took the time to think about what would happen if the anomaly did strike him, heightened healing abilities or not. It's hard to heal from an impaling of the heart. And he refused to listen to anything you said to justify your actions.

He was so bullheaded and strict, and you were tired of it, tired of him. If he wanted to bench you? Fine. But he could kiss those late nights goodbye, no matter how much you craved his sweatpants and t-shirt look, with his fluffy, soft hair, his so broad shoulders, the fangs, oh the fangs, and his a-- enough.

Snap yourself out of it. You cursed to yourself and flagged the bartender down, your intoxicated state making your hand sway a little as you did so. The bartender looked over at you and shook their head, making you loll your head back in irritation.

Big mistake.

Rapidly shutting your eyes, a groan accompanied you as you felt the effects of the alcohol sink in. You had taken off your watch too which you severely regretted now, because not only were you about to glitch any minute, you needed to talk to Peter. He would know what to do, and the watch was the quickest way to contact him. But it was in your bag somewhere, and you would rather suffer the consequences than even try to look in that thing right now.

His spider senses must have been pretty accurate because not even three minutes later your phone was ringing, his name appearing on the screen.

He spoke your name into the phone upon your answering, and you chuckled as you pictured him in that pink robe, probably pacing in some rabbit slippers too. Not that there was anything wrong with that of course.

"Hey Petey B, what's up?" You tried to muster all of the shards of your soberness to sound as articulate as possible, which was not much.

"Where are you? Hobie said he saw you walk out after getting in a fight with the big guy, and we've been trying to get ahold of you for hours now!"

You snorted. "I'm fine, Peter, just..." You trailed off, the sight of a rather interesting wine bottle catching your attention.

Your name was called again, his voice reverberating through the microphone. "Hm? Hey Peter, Can I tell you a secret?" You whispered back, a giggle following the beginning of your little confession.

"Are-are you drunk?"

You scoffed and continued on disregarding what he said. "Miguel definitely doesn't want me sharing this, but he's being a big ol' mean bundle of muscles so I'm going to anyway." You looked around to make sure no one else was listening to your drunken ramble and whispered into the phone. "He'll deny it until the day he dies, but he likes being the little spoon." Another giggle followed after that, thinking of what else to tell the brown-haired father about Miguel.

"Yep, oookay you are definitely drunk, and in no universe did I want to learn that information. Where are you? Lyla--" You tuned out after that, focusing again on that wine bottle you fancied. It would make for a perfect vase, and if you could just avoid bringing attention to yourself--

"Hey! Listen, I have to get back home with mayday, but Lyla found your location and is sending for someone to pick you up, okay?" His concerned voice made you worry a little. Maybe he needed a little pick me up.

"Peter you should know that you're such a good friend, you don't need to worry silly." A hiccup accompanied your words of attempted comfort. "You don't need to have anyone come get me, I'm fine--"

That's when the pain started--your heart feeling like it was being ripped from you. The feeling surged through your body at a wicked pace then, with your nerves burning as if they were on fire. You felt like you could feel your molecules splitting apart, the pain circling through you for what felt like an eternity, when in reality it couldn't have been more than a few moments.

You hadn't glitched in a while, and you forgot how much it hurt and threw you off-balance. Add on top that you were pretty intoxicated, and you felt like your world was upside down, literally, because your vision danced, and you couldn't locate any solid surface to grab onto.

You must have dropped your phone while you glitched because it was no longer in your hand, and as your senses started to half-hazardly return, you fought to keep everything in your system. Yeah, you seriously regretted not putting the watch back on. Of course, they could still track it if it wasn't on your wrist. You should have just left it at the Spider Society. Or better, you should've just returned home.

But you needed to escape, and you weren't thinking clearly after you fought with Miguel.

Miguel. Stupid, cold, stoic Miguel. Hot, soft, sexy Miguel. Couldn't hold in his anger for the life of him and doesn't know how to properly process emotions Miguel. Sweet, aggravatingly cute, loving Miguel.

"You think I'm cute?"

The low accented voice made you whip around, your head catching up a moment after your body, making you sway. You stuck your hands out to catch yourself from falling off the chair, your arm hitting a hard surface.

Ow. Did you just say that out loud?

"Yes, you did." The same voice, unimpressed, crossed his arms.

There Miguel stood, clad in everyday clothes, jaw clenched and shoulders taught as he looked at you in your drunken state. "Come on, we're going home." He grabbed your arm from where it laid against his chest, lowering it while using his other hand to support you while you stood up. You could hear him say a string of curses in Spanish before meeting your eyes, an annoyed look reflecting from them.

"You can't just walk out of there into the city this late at night without telling anyone that you're leaving. Something bad could've happened to you."

You rolled your eyes and pushed his arm away, reaching for your bag and missing a couple times before grabbing its handle. "Oh, stop pretending you care, Mr. 'you're off duty even though I'd be dead if you hadn't stepped in'." Almost stepping on your dropped phone, you bent over to try to pick it up, nearly falling over as you did so, the world spinning. A hand lightly grabbed your waist to steady you, and you cursed at his subtle show of affection.

"You dealt with that by getting drunk?" He said as he helped you back up, placing some money on the bar. "That's extremely irresponsible."

"Tough talk coming from someone who gets his anger out by throwing desks." Why did he have to be the one to pick you up? Why couldn't it have been literally anyone else?

An annoyed huff sounded from him then, and you turned to fully face the spider. Giving him a good once over, you couldn't help but become a little flustered at how he looked. Yes, you were extremely fed up with him right now, but jeans, on that ass? Accompanied with the compression shirt he donned, well, you took a good drink of him in. Enough of that, he benched you.

"We're going home, come on." He tried to coax you from your spot again, but to no avail. You may be drunk, but you still were stubborn.

You scrunched your eyebrows and crossed your arms. "No. Not until you un-bench me."

You heard him take another deep breath, you clearly getting on his nerves, but you couldn't care less. "I took you off duty because you don't care about yourself and your well-being, and until you can prove that you're going to be safe out there, we'll find something for you to do."

He really had the nerve, huh? "Oh come on, you would have done the same for me, and you know exactly why I did why I did. Look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn't have taken my place if the roles were reversed.

He hesitated a moment, deciding whether or not to indulge your drunken challenge.

"I wouldn't have."

You snorted in response, pushing his hand away from you. "Liar." The floor was still spinning, but you weren't going to show any signs of that to him. You tried to turn around and wave for another drink to be brought your way, but the bartender paid you no mind. "If you think you can come in here and be mean to me, especially after earlier, think again Miguel."

He grabbed your shoulder then, turning you towards him a second? Third time? He was always more touchy when it was just the two of you, not that you were complaining. You heard him mumble under his breath, though he never talked that loud in public settings--you figured it had something to do with his fangs. Oh, those fangs, those--

Snap out of it.

"Dios mío, mi amor (Oh my god, my love). I didn't mean it like that. You know I would have done the same, it's just that..." He trailed off, and you in turn raised your eyebrow.

If he was going to admit anything right now, whether you were drunk or not, he was going to fully say it. "Hmm?"

He had let the last part of that slip out and was thankful that you hadn't said anything about it. Once he realized the situation he was in though, he begrudgingly continued. "I tend to not think as straight when I'm around you sometimes, and it leads me to make rash decisions. I know you did it out of care."

"And?"

His stone-like facial expression finally, finally dropped, and you could take that for a win in itself. "And I'm sorry for benching you, but you have to see where I'm coming from."

And maybe you should have dropped it there, for you were able to get an apology out of Miguel, which not many people could say the same for. But your liquid confidence pushed you forward, bringing a finger to his chest. He lit this fuse, and you weren't going to let the fire go out just yet.

"If you don't let me go, I'm just going to sneak out to join a mission anyway. Leader of the Spider Society or not, you're not withholding me from something I enjoy doing." You could see the conflict on his face, but you knew you had won; after all, you were telling the truth. Either he let you go on the missions, or you were going to find a way to get on one anyways.

But this isn't how arguments got resolved, and you weren't sure he was used to someone talking back to him. Arguments were solved with compromise, so that's what you decided to do. "Okay, how about this. I'm not used to looking out for myself, but I'll try to do it more, yeah?"

He visibly relaxed at that, and maybe that was what he needed to hear all along. He knew that he was in too deep with you, and after Peter had told him of your late-night outing, his senses got a little frenzied. He couldn't put a name to the feelings he felt for you just yet, or maybe he could but he was afraid, but all rational went out the window when he found out that you were out here, not sober, in a universe you did not live in, by yourself. It was a recipe for disaster, and almost gave him freaking heart palpitations.

He had rushed to your location, and whether he was still frustrated with you or not, he loved cared for you and wanted you safe.

You were going to be the death of him, and he would willingly follow the reaper if that meant he got to spend the rest of his time with you.

At your offer he relaxed a bit, maybe he was being a little harsh. "Fine, I'll agree to that." He saw your eyes light up and quickly continued. "But only if I join you the next few missions, okay? You really had me worried today." You nodded at that, and the ghost of a smile could be seen on his lips. This was a whole lot better than fighting. Giving you a once over, he could tell that exhaustion was hitting you. "How about we head back home, mi querido/a, y ve a dormir (my dear, and go to sleep) . You can stay at my place for the night, sleep this off. I'll get you some medicine to help with the headache tomorrow, okay?"

You stifled a yawn, and his heart melted at the sight of you. Yeah, he was in deep. "Yeah, sounds good." Just as he dropped the tension in his jaw and shoulders again though, your frame began to glitch. He reached both his hands now to your shoulders to ground you. Why hadn't you put your watch back on? Why had you taken it off in the first place? You were blinking furiously when you returned to normal, falling into his touch.

Without a second thought he took his own off and secured it on your wrist, after all he wouldn't need his until tomorrow, when he traveled again. "Where's your watch?" He raced out, holding gently onto you. Eyes wide and mind scrambled, the moment you motioned towards your bag he retrieved it, setting it on his own person before ushering you out of the bar. "Are you alright?" He hated that his voice held a tinge of panic, but his stomach dropped at seeing you glitch, knowing how the pain felt first hand. You mumbled a yeah, and he walked with you back to his place. Swinging would make you all the more queasy.

When you two got in the door, he gave you another once over. "Are you doing better, are you sure you're okay?" You nodded, and the next thing he knew you were against his chest, hugging him.

Maybe he was freaking out a little on the inside at this, but he couldn't remember the last time he had received a hug. Returning the embrace, he murmured to you. "I've got some clothes you can change into, let's get you in bed." He heard an 'okay' slip from you, and he led you to his room.

And as he tucked you into his bed before heading to go change himself, dare he say that his heart fluttered when he heard you speak.

"Thank you Miggy, I love you."

And as sleep lulled you into its song, he was left momentarily frozen, an unfamiliar but not unwelcome warmth filling his chest. Because drunk words are sober thoughts, aren't they?

#spiderman #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #oscaar isaac #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

[blueicequeen19]

Charter Ch. 6

Warnings: drama, angst, threats of violence, oral, protected sex, age gap, boss & employee

Chelsea is here and she brought friends from the rougher side of the Cut. Baseheads. Big, buff friends covered in tattoos that look like they’re here for a fight. JJ takes a deep, murderous breath and I find myself taking his hand.

“Stay here.” JJ doesn’t look at me as he moves to the door but I tug on his wrist.

“Call the police!” I plead, reaching up to capture his face between my hands. His blue eyes are ablaze, his chest heaving with every angry breath.

“The cops in this town don’t give a shit about a Maybank.” JJ bites back, trying to pull away from me but I shake my head.

“There’s four of them and one of you. Do not do this.” JJ pulls free of my hold and steps back, going to a shelf next to the tv and grabbing something off the top shelf. A gun.

“JJ, wait, let’s just—.”

“I’m done with these fucking clowns. Stay in here. I mean it.” JJ steps onto the enclosed porch with the gun in his hand as his ex and her friends yell profanities and threats. I’m frozen for a moment before I run back to his bedroom to find my phone.

I quickly dial the sheriffs department and on the sixth ring an annoyed sounding female dispatcher answered.

“I need the police to my location for a.. break in. I’m not sure the address but it’s out on the marsh, a fairly newer build.”

“Ma’am, is this not your residence?”

“No, it’s my.. friends.” There’s a pause and a lot of clicking of a keyboard.

“I have your location. Is Johnathon James Maybank the owner?” I pause, having never heard JJ’s real name before. No wonder he went by JJ if John B was practically his brother.

“Yes.”

“Okay ma’am, all our officers are currently busy on other calls but we’ll send someone out there as soon as we can.”

“Are you serious? They have guns! Someone could get shot!” I was only assuming but at this rate with all the craziness, I wouldn’t put it past these people who decided to trespass.

“Ma’am—.” I hang up and look up John B on social media before sending him an urgent message. I quickly throw my phone down and pull on a pair of his shorts before running back down the hallway to the front of the house. I stop to grab the wooden baseball bat next to the front door and step out onto the enclosed porch where JJ stands on the steps, gun in hand.

I try not to let my gaze linger too long on the marks I made all over his back and arms as I move next to him.

“I’m not going to tell you again—.”

“Look who it is! Your little employee putting in her overtime! Is she even legal, J?” Chelsea laughs, pushing her blonde hair off shoulder with a wicked grin. She looked worse than the last time I saw her.

“Looks like she wants some of this too.” One of her goons says, looking to the bat in my hand.

“The cops are on their way. Better leave while you still can.” I announce, swinging the bat up to rest on my shoulder. Their eyes widen in alarm and JJ’s head snaps towards mine.

“You know what happens to snitches?” Chelsea spats at me, her face scrunched up in a snarl.

“You know what happens to trespassers?” JJ counters, the click of the safety being released echoing between all of us.

“My child lives here. I have a right to be anywhere she is.”

“You have no rights so therefore you don’t. Crawl back into whatever hole you’ve been in and fuck off.”

“You gonna back that mouth up, Blondie? Your daddy still owes us money.” One of the guys calls, cracking his knuckles. His dad? But JJ only smirks.

“Come and get some. You wouldn’t be the first bitch I’ve put in their place.” The guys all stiffen, nostrils flaring as their hands ball into fists.

“J.” I whisper softly, wrapping my hand around his wrist. He was terrifying like this. Just then the bloop of a police siren startles us all and a cruiser turns into the yard since the driveway is blocked. Shoupe steps out, hand on his gun, as he faces the trespassers.

“There a problem here?” Shoupe asks, his voice and posture dripping with authority.

“No, officer. No problems here. Just having a friendly chat. We’ll be going now.” Chelsea shoots us both a deadly look before her and her goons pile back into the piece of shit truck they came in and back out of the driveway.

What were we going to do now that they know where he lives?

Shoupe turns back to us, his hand still on his gun as he looks from JJ to the piece in his hand.

“You got a permit for that, Maybank?” JJ’s body visibly relaxes after the taillights for Chelsea’s truck can no longer be seen and he smirks at Shoupe.

“For what?” JJ counters, clicking the safety on and tucking the gun into the waistband of his shorts.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?” Shoupe asks, finally taking his hand off his own gun and approaching. JJ shrugs.

“Hard telling.” I shoot a look at him. Why is he not saying anything?

“Uh huh. Word around town is your ex is causing trouble and asking about you and your daughter. Do you have a protective order in place?”

“A piece of paper doesn’t stop anything.”

“Maybe not but it’s a paper trail and if it gets violated, people end up in jail.” JJ stays silent for a moment, staring back at Shoupe.

“Just come down to the station and we can get the paperwork started.” Shoupe presses but JJ shows no sign of giving in.

“J.” I try to take his hand but he curls his fingers away, like a punch to the gut. I have to fight to keep my face neutral as Shoupe looks between us.

“I’ll think about it. See you later, Shoupe.” JJ dismisses Shoupe before turning and disappearing into the house. Shoupe gives me a look I can’t quiet pinpoint - like pity - and gets back into his cruiser. I watch him exit the driveway before heading back inside.

I hear the shower turn on but I know for some reason I’m not invited. I quickly redress into my own clothes and throw my hair up into a bun. Emotions choke me and my throat is tight. This was a lot to deal with. It’s no wonder he kept me at arms length. But why was he mad now? Because I called the cops? Did he really want to face them alone? I startle at a knock on the front door then I hear it open. I emerge into the hallway to see John B walking in, obviously comfortable enough to just walk in. His eyes lock on me and he gives me a nod of acknowledgment.

“Everything good here?” He asks, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Yea. Shoupe came after all.” John B nods just as JJ enters the hallway in a towel. He looks from me to John B and shakes his head.

“It’s all good, Bree.” JJ sighs, going into the kitchen to get a beer.

“What did Shoupe do?” John B asks, taking a beer from JJ.

“Nothing but piss them off.” I scoff at JJ’s words. Why was he insisting on fighting this battle alone? His eyes narrow at me just as John B glances between us.

“He wants JJ to file a protective order against Chelsea so if she comes around Summer, she’ll be arrested. He’s also pissy that I called you and Shoupe.” I announce, crossing my arms and staring back at the heated blonde. I can feel John B look between us again.

“Yea, JJ don’t like cops or people helping him. He’s the only one allowed to be put at risk. Been that way since we were kids.” John B says, drawing JJ’s glare to him.

“I got shit to do. I’ll be there to get Summer in a bit.” John B chuckles at JJs dismissal.

“Whatever you want to do. Sarah says she can stay again if needed.” John B rounds the counter and they do some tacky handshake before John B makes his way to the door, only pausing to look back at me.

“Keep him out of trouble.” He says, before closing the door behind him. I nod, my heart racing a mile a minute as I turn to face JJ. His glaring at me, his wet hair dripping onto his shoulders and down his chest. Why was he so sexy when he was pissed off?

“You should probably head out. And watch your back now that there’s a target on it.” JJ says, tipping his beer up and draining the rest of it.

“I’ll just call the police again.” I shrug, crossing my arms as we glare back at each other.

“People on the Cut, especially Baseheads, don’t fuck around when it comes to snitches. It’s an unspoken rule not to talk to cops. That’s a Kook thing.” JJ snaps, drawing my attention to the Pogue tattoo across his knuckles.

“So, what? You were just going to take on all of them? Four vs one? End up in jail yourself? What happens to Summer if you go to jail?” I throw back and he growls, taking a dangerous step towards me. I crane my neck to look up at him, refusing to back down.

“If you wanted someone you can tell what to do and control, you picked the wrong girl.” I breathe, my body heating just being this close to him. JJ’s eyes trail over me, down the skimpy outfit I came in last night and back up to my face.

“I didn’t pick anyone.” His words have their desired effect and I try not to wince. “Now go. I’ll see you at work.” JJ nods to the door and for once I don’t have a single smart comment to make so I simply grab my things and leave.

I refuse to cry or show my wounded heart so I do the only thing I can.. fake it. The rest of the week slides by with ease and I pretend that JJ means absolutely nothing. I don’t stay until close like normal so I’m not tempted to let him bend me over the nearest flat surface. And I know id give in.

I manage to keep myself busy by picking up another job for the evenings on weekends, flirting with boys closer to my age, then masturbating until I’m weak. The only problem being that I get myself off to the memory of him. The way he feels. The sounds he makes when he cums. The way he tastes. The feel of his callused hands and rings on my body. I can make myself cum three times in a row and it still doesn’t dampen the fire that he’s lit in me.

I manage our shifts together just fine as long as I don’t look at him. When work needs to be discussed, I busy myself and keep my head down while giving one worded answers. I can feel the tension between us growing. I’m sure he’s just as pent up as I am. I’m surprised he hasn’t thrown me over his shoulder yet and hauled me to the back. But he would think that’s him giving in and he’s not one to lose.

I’m scrolling through my phone on my break, hiding in the tiny room with enough room for a fridge, microwave, and a sink, when I stumble across a video I took of him going down on me. Heat erupts all over my body and my clit throbs like the horny bitch she is at the memory. I can’t stop myself from lowering the volume and watching as he works my pussy with that skilled tongue, his heated blue eyes staying on mine. My own moans have me squeezing my thighs together. He sucks my clit into his mouth, making my hips jerk in the video and as I’m standing here watching. When he pulls back to reveal his arousal covered mouth and pushes two fingers inside me, I turn the video off, my body on the verge of combusting. I drop my phone on the table and grip the edges to try and ground myself. I squeeze my thighs tight but the ache doesn’t subside. I’m literally on the verge of slipping my hand into my shorts when a throat clears behind me. I snatch up my phone as I turn to face him, my heart in my throat and my pussy pulsing. Just by the look in his eyes, I can tell he knows what I was doing. Or about to do. I love and hate that cocky smirk of his and the way he tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth.

“I have a video similar to that.” JJ props his shoulder up against the door frame as he pulls out his phone, swipes a few times then turns it to face me. I remember this video too. My back was pinned against the wall as he fucked my face while keeping his hands on his phone. My throat had been so sore but it was worth it. I tear my gaze away from the sight of his cock jackhammering into my mouth, and glare at him.

“I think I have another one too. Ahh, yep.” JJ plays another of me riding him in reverse cowgirl, his free hand grabbing and slapping my ass as I bounce on him.

“Oh, this one is my favorite.” JJ changes the videos to one I instantly recognize from the last time we were together. My heart hurts because somehow this one felt more personal. He’s fucking me from behind, his body flat on top of mine as the phone rests against the headboard, capturing both our faces and his cock disappearing inside me. It was probably the most intense sex we’d ever had.

“Look into the camera.” JJ whispers in my ear in the video. I whimpered as he cupped my throat and forced me to look up, my eyes hooded and my lips parted.

“Watch yourself fall apart for me.” He’d whispered into my ear as he delivered rough, deep strokes. My entire body shivers and I turn away, goosebumps coating my skin as my panties soak further with my arousal. The fucking bastard.

JJ’s hands are suddenly on me and I don’t even fight him. I’m too weak. I miss him so much. I take it when he bends me over the table with a growl and enters me in one hard, deep thrust. His hand fists the back of my shirt as he fucks me hard and fast. I cum quicker than I ever have before, tears in my eyes, as I fight to keep from moaning loudly. His hands slide between us to stroke my clit before I’ve even come back down and my body clenches even harder around his.

“One more. Come on. I know you need it.” JJ urges in my ear. He’s right and I hate him. I shatter into a million pieces before going limp on top of the table as he releases in the condom. I can’t breathe or move as he pulls out, discards the condom and pulls my shorts back up. JJ pulls me to look at him but I don’t want to. It hurts too much.

“Your break is over.” JJ whispers, looking at my lips for a moment before walking away from me. Again.

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #obx2 #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj obx #jj maybank #outer banks x reader #tw dark content #blueicequeen19 #outer banks fanfiction

[kscheibles]

e la vita ch. 1

content warnings: f! reader, drug mentions, drinking, emetophobia, bisexuality (homophobes and biphobes begone I will block u so fast)

word count: 3.8k

I didn’t want to be in Italy this summer.

That makes me sound ungrateful or something, but it’s the truth. Three months ago, I had planned to stay in Brooklyn with Claire all summer long. Hosting dinner parties, eating greasy breakfast sandwiches, dancing to old $1 records in our cramped apartment, picnicking in Prospect Park, and being totally, delusionally in love.

That was before things went south, she stopped trying and left me with more rent than I could possibly pay in the city. When Christina had first mentioned that a group of her friends was headed to Italy for the summer, I’d dismissed the possibility of going with them. Not only did I dread cohabitating with her wealthy, influencer friends who seemed to deal only in clout, I thought I’d be otherwise engaged. Weeks later, I’d gone back to her groveling, asking if I could sleep on the pull-out couch in Nina’s family villa for the summer. Luckily, the sofa was still available.

Now I sit at a wrought iron table – lease broken and all of my belongings sold to wealthy Manhattanites – in the warm yellow light of the Lombard sunset. Around me are chatty, outgoing girls, each more beautiful than the last. They gab about clubs and brands and boys. In the sea of Botox and iPhones, I cling to Christina like a life buoy. I push my tortellini around my plate to make it look like I have an interest in food, but I really don’t. I’m jet-lagged and uncomfortable. And even if that wasn’t the case, I’ve barely eaten since the breakup, relying on oat lattes and dirty water dogs to keep me alive.

“Try the pasta,” Christina jabs, “trust me, you’ll have a lot more fun this summer if you lean in.” I break the shell open with my fork revealing succulent ricotta curds and bright green spinach. The filing swims in a sauce of brown butter and fragrant tarragon but doesn’t affect me as it should. Nothing does anymore. The group’s conversation interrupts my train of thought.

“They’ve come every summer since the nineties, same as us,” says Nina, smirking at the girl to her left. “Hottest little accents you’ve ever heard, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Who is she talking about?” I whisper to Christina.

“The boys in the other house,” she says, “the one you see on your way up here.” Nina’s family’s home is at a higher altitude than the rest of the city, necessitating a laborious hike to the bottom to actually do anything while in town. I’m sure that they’d been sold on the privacy of the location, but its impracticality left me wanting. The only other villa nearby sat at the base of the lush green hills before the road disappeared into winding dirt.

Another girl chimes in, “I saw them last year at a dinner in the city. They’re cute, too,” she coos. 

“I kissed George the summer I turned fifteen,” brags Nina and the whole table breaks into oohs and aahs. I usually have a shut-up-unless-spoken-to policy at group dinners, but I know Christitna is right. If I don’t lean in then the credit card debt I’d amassed to buy my plane ticket and the back problems I'm sure to contract from sleeping on a pull-out couch for a whole summer will have been for naught. Think of it as an acting exercise, I tell myself, a performance of the girl who is totally not hung up on her ex and excited for a fun summer with her friends. 

“I’m sorry,” I interrupt, “who are these guys?”

“They’re in a band,” says Nina.

“Like a real one?” I ask. Years of living in New York have taught me that all bands are not, in fact, real ones. Nina laughs.

“You’re funny,” she muses, “yes, a real one. They’re like famous. We’ll go over eventually, they throw the best parties you can find around here. Get real drugs, too. Not just liters upon liters of Aperol, not that I mind that either.”

With my question sufficiently answered, I return quietly to my pasta, cutting each shell into impossibly smaller pieces until it’s rabbit food that will glide down my throat and do the hard job of nourishing me without any work on my part.

–

After dinner, I tuck into the pull-out couch in the villa’s spacious living room. The lack of A/C and the balmy summer air make it impossible to enjoy the luxurious wool blankets Nina’s family no doubt splurged on. I allow myself to eavesdrop on the elated sounds coming from upstairs: women confiding in each other, commiserating about their troubles, and shrieking excitedly at each other's successes.

I first try to doze off at 10:15, hoping that an early night will be exactly what I need and I’ll wake up refreshed and on Italian time. After an hour of staring at the popcorn ceilings and trying to suppress my crippling fear of missing out, I’ve tired my mind out enough to begin slipping toward sleep. I have fewer and fewer thoughts until I’m jolted by a hip-hop bassline. It resonates through the trundle bed and rebounds off my ribs, cozying itself into my heart. As I begin to come to, I recognize the chords of a house track that used to play at the girl bar Claire and I frequented in Green Point. The melody is warm and familiar and undeniably annoying. How loud must the music be for it to affect me so acutely even as I’m a few kilometers away from them? 

I decide I’m pissed – and yes I decided. I’m freshly single, broke, jet-lagged, and fucking pissed at those entitled rich assholes. I slide my sandals on and head out down the hill in my sleep clothes.

-

I step outside onto the winding dirt road that leads the way to the boys’ home. The night is dark, lit by stars much brighter than I’m used to seeing in Brooklyn. I tilt my head back to look at them, trying to identify the big dipper. After a few seconds, I’m dizzy. I shake myself and trudge ahead, almost lulled into submission by the constant chirping of cicadas and the sweet fragrance of orange blossom that wafts off the bushes. 

With each step I take towards the boys’ villa (what were their names again? Nina said one was called George), the music, electronic and fast-paced, becomes louder. 

When I first knock on the faded wood door, I’m quite sure no one has heard me. I stand outside for a few minutes, contemplating whether I should knock again or cut my losses and return up the hill. I decide I may as well disrupt their party as some kind of karmic retribution for keeping me awake even as I’m exhausted from a transatlantic flight. I raise my fist and rap harshly at the door. A moment later, it flies open, revealing a curly-haired boy. Well, not boy, I decide as I inspect his features – lines decorate his forehead, and gray peeks out at me from within a ringlet that hangs over his eyes. He gives me a once over and can immediately tell I’m not here for the party. 

“Can I help you?” he asks, annoyed. His accent lilts and falls over the words. All of a sudden, I feel insecure in my braless and plaid pajama-clad state. He’s beautiful – and exasperated by me. I double down on my own annoyance. 

“Would you mind turning the music down?” I ask, still cordial, “I’m staying at the house up the way and I can’t get to sleep.”

The guy in front of me purses his lips and considers me for a moment. I feel itchy and uncomfortable. He’s looking at me like he can see through my clothes, to my soft hips and painted toes and peaked nipples. 

“Let me show you around, gorgeous,” he smiles, “then maybe you won’t mind so much.” He grabs my wrist and yanks me into the party. A warmth covers me as I cross the threshold into the villa. The inside of the home smells like college: cheap weed, sweet sticky mixers, and sweat. My sandals stick slightly to the floor, reminding me that I really shouldn’t be here right now. Like the alcohol that’s been spilled on the ground is some great cosmic interference to convince me to go home and get the rest I ought to. 

Suddenly, a big hand falls on the shoulder of the boy who’s pulling me by my limbs.

“Matty!” says the man. I can make out enough to see that he’s tall and devastatingly handsome. 

“George!” the boy – Matty, I remind myself – drops my hand and fully embraces the bigger guy. “Was just showing…” he nods at me to introduce myself.

“Y/n.”

“Around,” Matty finishes. George gives me a once over.

“Did she just roll out of bed? Or get released from prison?”

“Y/n came to ask us to keep the noise down,” Matty declares with fake sincerity, “Not a partier, are ya love?”

“Under the right circumstances, I can be,” I retort. Matty and George’s eyebrows raise in amusement, faces breaking out in smiles. That sounded much more cunning in my head. Now I feel like a toy they’re playing with, winding me up to see what noises I make. It feels infantilizing. I’m uncomfortable, crawling in my skin; pride battered and desperate to go home as soon as it doesn’t look like I’m running away from a fight of my own picking. “I’d better be going actually,” I assert.

Matty puckers his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “I’ll show you out, princess.” It’s a sweet nickname but it tastes bitter out of his mouth. He seems to twist everything good and make it unbearable. I resent him for it. I trudge in front of Matty towards the door with steadfast focus. As I cross the threshold, I turn to meet his gaze.

“Thanks for nothing,” I say calmly. Matty breaks into a devilishly smug grin. His eyebrows tilt a little and his lips reveal a few crooked teeth at the bottom of his mouth.

“My pleasure, darlin’,” he says. I scoff and turn on my heels, leaving Matty in the dust.

–

The scent of freshly chopped garlic fills the kitchen as I stand in an assembly line of young women with cutting boards and chefs knives, each diligently chopping an ingredient for the bruschetta. 

In front of me is a bunch of basil, perfectly fresh and green. I gently remove the leaves from the stem and create a pile in the middle of my board. It reminds me of when I would be tasked with raking the leaves as a kid. Too distracted by my childish whims, I would create more work for myself by piling the leaves on top of each other and taking a grandiose dive into them before scooping them up into a trash bag and discarding them. Each leaf was like a piece of confetti, a celebration of the season and of youth. Now I do these things to prove to myself that I’m young and that I can still conjure up that imaginative, playful nature if I try hard enough. 

As I rock my knife back and forth over the soft leaves, Christina asks me where I was the night before. 

“I came out around eleven to invite you upstairs, but I couldn’t find you,” she says.

Embarrassed, I train my eyes to the task at hand. This is not the group to look like a tattle-tale in front of. Actually, there’s very few groups in which that would fly. My penchant for playing God and divvying out karmic consequences to everyone whose path I cross is a part of my nature I’m not particularly fond of. I’m not keen to share it, especially around people who are still making up their minds about me. Despite my steadfast beliefs and borderline-outlandish behaviors, I maintain a fervent desire to be liked. It’s pathetic. 

“I stepped out for some air,” I murmur.

“Really?” she nudges, “Because I didn’t see you on the porch.”

I turn my basil bunch 90 degrees in a flourish, beginning to chop it lengthwise. 

“Fine, I couldn’t sleep because of the music,” I spit.

“And…” Christina has always been too good at getting me to reveal my true feelings. She goads me torturously until it’s easier to say what I’m thinking than to conceal it.

“And I went to ask them to turn the music down,” I finish, “There, are you happy?”

“Very,” she smiles. 

I pick up the chopped basil, letting the pieces float through my fingers and deciding I need to chop them smaller, still. I whack at the pile haphazardly, ruining the lovely squares I meticulously crafted earlier. 

“They didn’t turn it down, if you were wondering,” I pant, “Pricks.” Christina chuckles to herself.

“No one ever does.”

–

The music of the club is omnipresent as I enter hand in hand with Christina. On my feet are heels too high to be comfortable, but the perfect lift to accentuate my calves. As soon as I cross the threshold, I drag Christina to the bartender, ordering two negronis. We idle by the bar for a moment and I take in my surroundings, savoring the bitter aftertaste of my drink and the waltz of the lights that flicker and cover the dancefloor with reverie. I listen to the synths and flourishes of the melody that envelop my senses. I hadn’t expected to like the music, but the DJ is spinning disco and it just feels right: the cold Italian aperitif, the funky basslines, and the tranquil nighttime air. I almost wish I’d left my phone at home. Nights like these aren’t compatible with phones anyway. The atmosphere feels like a relic of a bygone era, full of free love and intoxication. 

Nina and a friend of hers find Christina and me at the bar and run up to us with inebriated bravado. “You guys made it!” she squeals. Little does she know we were pre-gaming at the villa in anticipation of this exact moment. I couldn’t handle Nina while sober tonight, that much I was absolutely sure of. It also didn’t help that I was alone – for the first time in several years – in a romantic foreign country without the girl whom I still loved. As unhealthy as it was, alcohol made that reality hurt a bit less. Nina grabs my hands and leads Christina and me away from the bar. 

“I need to introduce you to the DJs!” Nina exclaims. I glance at Christina to communicate that no, I’m not particularly enthused at the prospect of meeting some Eurotrash guy whose head is shaved and whose torso is covered in Gucci logos. She returns the glance, silently begging me to behave. I relent.

Nina leads us around the side of the floor to some kind of dark stairwell. Rationally, I should be scared of being kidnapped but my drunken stupor inspires more carelessness than I would usually indulge in. I watch the sway of Christina’s hips and follow her like a lost puppy. Finally, we reach the top and the DJ deck is revealed. It’s shadowy and hazy. To the left is a corner booth with a straight couple making out in a way that really ought to be illegal in public. Past the lookout, laser lights flicker and sweep across the dancefloor, catching on the artificial fog and filling the air with psychedelic color. My eyes fall on the backs of two figures at the DJ booth, smoke rising above their heads. I can make out that one has headphones on and is faffing with the turntable while the other has their hands in the air and the small, flickering glow of a lit cigarette dancing around their figure. I’m dragged towards them by Nina who throws an arm around each of their necks in greeting. As soon as the one with the cig turns around, I catch his eyes.

It’s Matty. Selfish, arrogant Matty. I nod my head and flatten my mouth in a kind of recognition. The room is spinning from the alcohol and my skin is buzzing with discomfort. The bass of the music resonates in my ribs, teaching my heart how to beat. My mouth tastes salty and my knees feel weak. 

I’m running to the corner where I can see a bin. Tears prick at my eyes and my hair sticks to my sweaty forehead as I swiftly empty the contents of my stomach into the small trash can. I kneel on the rough carpet and brace myself on either side of the bin with my hands. Between heaves, I lift my head to shake my hair off the back of my neck. The cool air feels grounding, but I’m soon back with my head in the can. I feel a hand on the back of my head, wrangling my frizzy hair off of my shoulders. I gasp, looking back for the sisterly comfort of Christina’s bottomless, cerulean eyes. Instead, I find a pair of brown, honey-flecked irises: Matty’s. I’m reeling too severely to be upset or confused; I’m just grateful when he uses his free hand to sweep my damp bangs out of my face and nods at me.

“Go on,” he encourages, “better out than in.”

I bury my head in the bucket again. 

“Atta girl,” Matty coos in my ear. I can almost notice his hand rubbing circles on my back. Even when I’m quite sure I’m finished, I keep my head down for a moment savoring the last few seconds that I don’t have to look Matty in the eyes. Curse him for helping me. I wouldn’t know how to interact with him under normal circumstances, much less when he’s been nice to me – and watched me unceremoniously blow chunks into a bin.

“You feel better?” he asks. I lift my head tentatively, still scared another wave of nausea will hit me. 

“I think so, yeah,” I mumble. Matty searches my eyes for any warning sign that I’m still sick.

“Have you got a hair tie?” I instinctually fish in my jeans pocket for one, handing it to him. Slowly, he corrals my locks into a ponytail and secures it, fingers grazing the tops of my ears and making me shiver. I sit back against the wall with my legs splayed out in front of me, knees visibly carpet burnt from my previous position. Matty flops down beside me. He reaches out to touch the red, irritated skin. 

“You don’t need a doctor or something, do you?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” I hiss when he applies a little pressure to my knee and shake his hands off me, “Why are you being nice to me?”

“When have I not been nice?”

“You wouldn’t turn the music down the other night,” I state. He smiles at me, eyes scrunching up until his pupils are totally obscured. 

“No one ever turns the music down,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Plus,” he adds, “I thought you were a buzzkill. Now I can see that’s not the case, sweetheart.”

“I can usually handle my drink better than this,” I protest, “And I’m also usually not a buzzkill.”

“I guess I don’t know anything about you, then,” he acquiesces, thinking for a moment, “Do you want to start over?”

“Sure, I’d like that,” I nod, smiling tipsily.

“So what’s caused you to be sick tonight?” Matty asks, leaning his head back against the wall. His hair is curled up in perfect ringlets and his skin glows golden even in the dim club light. He looks at me carefully, like his stare could hurt me. It could, I suppose. 

“Alcohol?” I say it like that should be obvious. His face wrinkles up again in a laugh I can vaguely identify as something that’s my fault. He looks pretty. I realize I want to make him do it again and again forever. I want to see the crinkles that grow at the sides of his eyes and the curl of his upper lip that reveals his boyishly crooked teeth.

“I figured as much. Anything in particular that drove you to drink?” I frown for a second, trying to remember. 

“My ex,” I say quietly.

“What’d he do?”

“Nothing,” I shake my head, “that’s the problem. She didn’t do anything.”

“When was that?”

“Two months ago?” My god, it’s already been two months.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs,  “that’s still fresh.” I shrug.

“It’s alright I guess. You just feel a little betrayed when someone stops trying. I thought that was the whole point of…” I trail off, gesticulating aimlessly with my hands, “love or whatever. To keep trying.”

“I get it,” he utters. 

“People stop trying with rockstars, too?” I tease. He smiles.

“How did you know that I’m a musician?”

“Well, first of all, I said rockstar–”

“Which I chose to ignore because it was sarcastic.” I roll my eyes.

“And second of all, the girls I’m staying with told me,” I finish. He nods in understanding.

“Well yeah,” he sighs pensively, “people stop trying with everybody. Even rockstars. If I’ve learnt anything in my life, it’s that giving up usually has more to do with them than it does with you.”

“You’re probably right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less,” I argue.

“Nothing does. You just have to let it hurt for a while.”

We’re both quiet for a second. I catch a couple of bars of an Earth, Wind, and Fire song and hum along, content with the silence. I let my head fall onto Matty’s shoulder and he immediately turns his head to look at me.

“Oh fuck, sorry. Is this okay?” I ask, hand flying to my mouth “I know I just puked.”

“It’s okay,” he says, “I just didn’t think you would want to.”

“I want to,” I kiss his shoulder through the cotton of his white button-up shirt. He watches me the whole time as though he can’t quite compute what’s happening. Then he snaps back to his regular confident state.

“Let me know if you ever want to deal with your girlf– ex without drinking your feelings away…” he trails off, mouth meeting the crown of my head, “I’d love to show you around here sometime.”

“Okay,” I mumble, the alcohol, tiredness, and emotions beginning to get the better of me and coax me toward sleep.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Matty grabs my hand from my lap and wraps it in his two larger ones, caressing my thumb and humming into my ear.

–

a/n: the next bit is written, but I am still writing the end. smut soon! x

#matty healy fanfic #matty healy x reader #matty healy x y/n #matty healy fluff #matty healy fanfiction #matty Healy

[thatrandomwriter]

Smoking Hot

Stu Macher x Reader

Warnings: Drug use, swearing

Summary: Reader and Stu hang out to smoke weed together

Smoke burned my throat as I breathed in, holding it in my lungs for as long as I could before it began to tickle, blowing it out in a long exhale. The closer we got to finishing our joint, the more the smoke threatened to make me cough. Stu reached a greedy hand for it as soon as it left my lips, waving the hand at me when I took a second too long to pass it to him.

“You are many things, Stu, but patient is not one of them. Jesus Christ,”

“It’s a good job I’m charming enough to make up for it then. And smart, and handsome, and funny,” he ticked the adjectives off on his fingers before taking a drag of his own.

“Not to mention humble,”

“That, too,” he seemed thrilled that I had thought of something to add to the list. I shook my head at him, letting my hair hang in my face to block the grin that threatened to bloom. Weed always made me embarrassingly giggly, and much as I enjoyed Stu’s company, his ego did not need to be inflated any further with the idea that everything he said was hilarious. “Where’d you go - don’t tell me you’re going all shy on me,” Stu leaned, peering around my hair to see my face, eyes wide and expression gormless. Laughter expanded like a bubble in my chest, rising up my throat until I could no longer contain it. A grin spread across Stu’s face in return.

“I see, I see. My level of comedy is clearly far too much for you to handle, I promise that from now on I will speak to you with utmost seriousness,” he waved a hand over his face to exaggerate the transition, grin switching to a pompous frown.

“No, please don’t! Without you I’ll never laugh again,” I attempted to mimic his frown, but found it impossible whilst he looked me in the face, more laughter threatening to bubble to the surface. Instead, I stared up at the sky, so impressively blue that I forgot almost entirely about my attempt to pull a serious face. “I have an important question,”

“Go on, you can’t leave me in suspense like that,” for someone so eager to enforce the puff-and-pass rule earlier, Stu seemed to have no problem hogging the spliff when it was his turn to give it up. I reached for it before continuing, my fingers brushing his clumsily as I took it. There was only a little left.

“Do you believe in aliens?” A ridiculous question that would no doubt have an entertaining answer. I finished the joint, flicking it into the grass, away from the picnic blanket we shared.

“Of course I do - I believe they like to catch rides on kid’s bikes, and make calls to the mothership to escape evil science dudes,” Stu wouldn’t be Stu without having a movie reference for every conversation, though expecting him not to go straight to E.T when I brought up aliens would be wildly unfair.

“For sure, and they can teleport bikes and have weird buggy eyes,”

Stu shuddered dramatically, “Creepy eyes,”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of E.T,” I teased.

“Not scared … Just a healthy level of cautious,”

Another laugh rose in my chest. The sound seemed to make Stu smile, his eyes lingering on mine in a way that made my face feel hot. Normally I would have looked away, but right now I was incapable of that kind of self-consciousness. The heat in my cheeks seemed to be stemming not from embarrassment, but from something else.

“If you think about it, if there are aliens out there, then to them, we’re the aliens,” Stu widened his eyes, as if he had said something ground breaking.

“Shit - so you do believe in aliens!”

“Kinda have to if we’re the aliens, and we exist,” Stu said. I was surprised that he did not say ‘duh’ at the end of the sentence.

“You are talking the most shit,”

Stu clutched at his chest in exaggerated offence, “Now that is just hurtful,” He turned his head away from me, chin pointed upwards.

“Awww come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” I leaned forwards in an attempt to get him to look me in the face, but he only turned his head further with a loud ‘humph’.

I kneeled up so that I could get more distance, leaning around him until he could turn his head no further to get away from me.

“I’m very sorry - I didn’t realise your feelings were so fragile,” I grinned through the apology at his ridiculous stubbornness. In fact, I couldn’t stop grinning, his sulking suddenly the most hilarious thing in the world.

Stu turned to face me, and suddenly we were almost nose to nose. “You call that an apology, huh?”

A wild and reckless idea overtook me for a second, my grin fading in an instant as the idea that he was close enough to kiss entered my head, and that a kiss would be more than apology enough for his feigned hurt feelings. He seemed to pick up on the shift, reading the thought stamped suddenly across my face, eyes dipping from mine and to my lips. It was just for a second, barely long enough for me to notice. But that second was enough of a spark to my confidence for me to lean in, acting on my impulsive thoughts.

Stu’s lips were soft, and he tasted like smoke. My body had twisted at an awkward angle to get face to face with him earlier, but now that there was no need for the empty air between us, I leaned into him for support. His hands found my waist as he kissed me back, tugging me into his lap. His body was firm and warm against mine, and I pressed myself into him, needing nothing more than to be as close to him as possible. We were connected, perfectly in sync, my lips parting just as his tongue moved to graze mine. My hands found his chest, his neck, his hair, mapping out parts of Stu’s body that I had seen but never before touched, memorising the planes of his back and the curve of his jaw. His arms tightened around me, bringing us impossibly closer together as he leaned back to lie on the blanket, pulling me down to the floor with him without breaking our kiss, so that I was in top of him. Which each passing second his mouth became hungrier, less soft and more desperate. His teeth caught against my lower lip, eliciting from me a sharp intake of breath.

I pulled away by an inch or so, only as much as I could bare, “Am I forgiven?”

“You most definitely are,” Stu’s familiar grin, wide and toothy and incredibly, undeniably hot, lit up his face. “You wanna know something?”

“What?” I returned his smile.

“You’re smoking hot, baby,”

The pun was truly awful, but somehow that made it even funnier. As I laughed, he leaned up to close the inch-wide gap between us, kiss lingering and slow.

“You think I’m joking, but I am being deadly serious,”

#imagine #ghostface #ghostface x reader #oneshot #scream 1996 #scream fanfic #reader insert #stu macher #stu macher x reader #scream franchise #matthew lillard #fanfic #scream fan fiction

[olderthannetfic]

First as a disclaimer: I'm pretty sure I'm not an anti (I'm anti death threats and am fine with incest, age-gap, abusive ships etc)

However I'm probably still a social/political enemy for various reasons but you sometime post asks from people you disagree with I think and I think you might know this answer.

Anyway onto my question I'm the kind of shipper who likes canon compliant ships and looking for hints and stuff but these days it feels like everyone boasts about how much their ships deviate and poop on canon etc. Do other shippers with my mentality still exist and I just don't notice them (Outside of anti spaces) or are we actually a dying breed?

--

Eh. I think "political enemy" has a pretty fluid definition if one is really into playing politics. If you aren't out campaigning on a white supremacy platform, we probably have some goals in common.

I usually block people for being extremely annoying on a day I'm feeling hormonal or for attacking people particularly viciously in my comments, not for nominally being in some other camp.

--

I think the more canon-adjacent fandom flavors are actually really common.

They're a little lost in the tumult of "My headcanon is actually canon!!!" stuff on tumblr that we like to laugh at on my own blog.

They're also less common in oldschool m/m-shipping spaces because those are often inherently non-canon ships. In the past, it was because homophobic censorship wouldn't let anything be made. These days, it's because the flavor of m/m a lot of people like is more easily found by adding romance to a buddy canon than by trying to add buddy-ness to a romance canon in many cases, and this can be true even if canon is original m/m aimed at fandom types.

Here's the thing: oldschool m/m shippers tend to be particularly prone to building community spaces and recording our history precisely because it's so easily erased and so often attacked. This type of shipper also tends to have more of a cohesive identity. That makes it far easier to name ourselves and set up little fiefdoms on modern social media.

I'm one of these people. Shittons of the people doing amateur fandom history work are. Much of the OTW old guard are. And lots of us know each other at least a bit, so if you're running into one of us, you're probably running into more of us.

--

However, that doesn't actually mean this type of shipping is the most common or that there have never been spaces devoted to something else.

That old Beauty and the Beast tv series with Linda Hamilton had epic canon shippers. So did Moonlight (the vampire tv series). So did and does Twilight.

A lot of these shippers had this as their first and possibly their only fandom and carried on being obsessed long after canon was over.

Lizzie/Darcy shippers put anything I have ever been a fan of to shame. No matter what the AO3 numbers show, this ship far, far exceeds the popularity of Destiel or any of the other m/m heavyweights.

--

I think the problem you're running into is that in the modern era of binging things on Netflix and regular joes being huge media geeks, analyzing canon in a nerdy way and obsessing over your canon ships is just how a big chunk of the population engages with media.

Fan theories that are closely tied to what was actually on the screen/page are the bread and butter of water cooler conversations and have been since The Sopranos and its ilk.

Yes, I know some fuck will immediately show up and go "Ahem, ahem, I am a GEEK and SPECIAL and the people around me never have intellectual conversations about media literally ever!!!!" just like every single time we have this conversation. But times have moved on, and being overinvested in canon theorizing just is a normie activity now, and that's great! Except when you want a special term and space to find your people.

The only time canon shippers really stand out from that is if they're extremely fic-focused, and then they often start straying farther from canon, especially if they stick around the same fandom for a long time. Either they start becoming more fans of some fic writer or they start wanting to diversify what they themselves are writing.

The really good close-to-canon fandom activities are at their best when lots of fans find the same currently-running canon at the same time and before canon itself passes its prime.

Even I started out on alt.tv.x-files, analyzing the shit out of season 2 and not caring much about non-canon things. (Though, admittedly, I was more NoRomo than MSR.)

--

That said, antis are not actually that canon-focused in most cases. They will do the "My headcanon is reality" thing as much as anyone. They just tend to spend a lot of time hating on explicit m/m and a lot of explicit m/m is of non-canon ships.

Honestly... anon... you might want to figure out what the latest CSI-ish franchise is and find the obviously-future-canon het ship from that. Those tend to get the 10 seasons of build up and fan theories that don't stray too far from canon.

This stuff is not only not a dying breed, but it's so common that one of the editors of NCIS delivered a deeply cringeworthy lecture at my film school about what "shippers" are and how the Tiva shippers affected the production.

People into those ships don't need tumblr: Major entertainment magazines are publishing their fan theories for them.