#this ended up being a million times longer than i anticipated

[werewolfsmile]

re: "All I’m saying is the fact that someone isn’t talking to me about Eliot Spencer every second of every day is very unfair and borderline illegal." & tags - if you want to, can you elaborate on your werewolf!eliot ideas?? i’d like to hear about it!! if not all good tho :)

Oh boy oh boy oh boy! Yes I would love to elaborate! (buckle up because i have Thoughts)

(wow this really got away from me so uhhh .... warning for 2k of ranting about Eliot as a werewolf?? list of headcanons under the cut)

From the moment I first met Eliot Spencer, I knew he was werewolf-coded. Aside from his insanely fantastic fighting abilities and the absurd amount of punishment he can take, there are many other factors that contribute to his werewolf status.

Eliot needs a pack Our boy is out here working on his own for years and look at all the good it did him! None! He carries severe trauma from his family life because he blames himself for how it all went down and doesn't think he'll be welcomed back. Plus something probably happened during his military days or early PMC days to put him off working with others. Could have been the pain of losing people all the time, could have been something more. Either way, Eliot working on his own is a defence mechanism - but a self-destructive one.

Wolves thrive in packs - like duh, they're pack animals. As my username suggests, I'm into werewolves and, by extension, wolves. I've done research for my own werewolf novels in the past, so I know that in an average wolf pack, each pack member will have physical contact with the other pack members on the regular. Like, several times an hour! (gosh if I can find the research paper this info came from I'll link it but honestly it's been years) That's a serious level of physical contact required to keep the emotional bonds of the pack healthy!

Flick back to Eliot. He loves to fight, he loves the violence and the pain, yes. He hates the killing and the blood on his hands. He actually tries to leave the assassin world behind after he meets Toby (which is before he meets Moreau, as per early dialogue in The French Connection Job). He bonds quickly with Toby. Show Eliot a little love and care and he's yours for life! He moves onto retrieval work, then somehow ends up working for Moreau.

Now, when we see Eliot and Moreau in The Big Bang Job, Moreau says, "You work alone." Which means that Eliot had that reputation when he came to Moreau. He probably only took contracts to start off with. But he accepted job after job from Moreau and was so good that he was highly respect and it's inferred he ended up as Moreau's top bodyguard/assassin. Why the hell would Eliot end up that close to a man who brings out all the worst in him? Because Eliot's a werewolf and no matter how toxic, Moreau fulfills the need for a pack bond that he's been missing all this time.

Fast forward to Eliot meeting the rest of the Leverage team. One job only - my ass. He saves Hardison's life after Hardison brought a gun to their little meeting - and we all know how Eliot feels about guns.

Wolves are designed to live and operate in packs. Eliot says it's one job only but is bonding with them all from the get-go. Werewolf trait confirmed.

Eliot needs physical touch Now, I know what you're thinking. Eliot canonically avoids physical contact with the team. He refuses hugs, especially from Hardison, growls at Parker poking his bruises (don't get me started on the growls), and shoves people (ahem Parker) out of his personal space. So why would he do all this if he needs physical touch??

Because he's one gigantic ball of angst and self-loathing and guilt.

Eliot doesn't think he deserves forgiveness or love or family, etc. That is a whole other rant, but he denies himself the physical contact he needs with others as a way of punishing himself.

However, as the series progresses, we see him become more comfortable with physical contact! He hugs Hardison several times, he doesn't move away from Parker, etc. Why? Because he's bonded with this team (ahem pack) and there's only so much he can suppress his instincts. The more time he spends with them, the more naturally the contact flows.

Eliot needs to protect others Whenever we get a scene of the team walking as a group, where is Eliot positioned 90% of the time?? That's right, at the back of the group. He lets the others walk in pairs and falls back to bring up the rear. He's keeping them all in his line of sight and constantly scanning for threats ahead, along with protecting the team from any rear attacks. It makes sense for him to do this given his military background, but it also makes sense for a werewolf to do this.

He's the only werewolf in the team. His instincts revolve around keeping the pack safe and protected, so he does that in the best way he knows how.

Not to mention how feral gets over kids!!

Wolf life is all about the pack and the family structure. Pups are integral to the pack's survival and future. Eliot doesn't have kids of his own. But that doesn't stop his instincts from blaring every time he interacts with a kid, be it on the con or off. He takes time out every time to help that kid in an attempt to calm the raging storm of instincts inside his body.

Eliot needs to feed others It's another werewolf instinct that rears its head when they're in the safety of their headquarters (ahem den). Protecting the team/pack from physical threats is just one aspect of taking care of them. Feeding them is the other major one.

None of these idiots can cook to save their lives - except Nate, but he's also drowning his liver 90% of the time, so Eliot has to compensate for that, too. The team can't operate at full capacity if they're not consuming good nutrition. So Eliot makes sure to feed them.

His humanity recognises that these are independent people - coworkers - and he can't control every meal of every day. But he can cook for them, once a week or once a job, which is just enough to satisfy his instincts that he's doing his part to care for them. Plus they love his cooking, and the praise he gets from it is an unexpected but pleasant bonus.

Eliot and team sports/kitchens This ties in with my first point about Eliot needing a pack, but all the times we see Eliot go super hard and get absorbed in the role he's playing are when he's on a team sport or he's in the kitchen. Both of these fulfill super important instincts for him - being in a team/pack and providing food for others.

Think about The Tap-Out Job. Eliot's playing a fighter but he's not pretending to be on a team. He doesn't get over-invested in the role. But what about when he's a baseball player? A hockey player? He falls into those roles hard because he's working with another team again, and this little werewolf is built for that environment. Same in The French Connection: the kitchen becomes his den, the students are his pack mates, and he goes hard at investing in them and protecting them. Never mind the personal aspect of Toby.

Same for episodes like The Fairy Godparents Job when we get a scene of Eliot teaching a bunch of girls self-defence. Team setting + protecting kids = happy werewolf instincts.

So, werewolf headcanons? I have a lot of different origin theories but the main one I like for Eliot is:

he became a werewolf either for a covert military op, or was bitten by Moreau (choose your own angst flavour)

if it was for the military, they were trying to engineer supersoldiers and he was deemed a failure; he has werewolf instincts all the time but only has enhanced strength, healing, etc on full moons

if it was bitten by Moreau, there's a psychic-style bond linking them, which is why he was so loyal to Moreau for so long, and also why he is so reluctant to go after Moreau

(wow this is too different theories already and i said this was my 'main one' whoops)

Eliot can only shift easily on the full moon; shifting outside of a full moon can only be caused by extreme stress and is ridiculously painful

he suffers an insanely high prey drive all the time and is so strict about his control because he doesn't actually wanna rip out the throat of Random Guard #3

he used to chain himself up for full moons so he didn't hurt anyone, but since the team found out about him, Hardison and Parker have taken it upon themselves to 'puppy-sit' him every full moon

this involves no chains but an obscene amount of dog chew toys. Eliot is never impressed. He also never chases or chews the toys. The video evidence Hardison has was obviously doctored.

Hardison and Parker found out the truth when a con went sideways and Eliot was trapped in a room with them during the full moon

he was terrified he was going to kill them - or worse, bite them - but his instincts recognised them as pack so instead he just tried to wrestle with them all night

Hardison had a major freak out when he discovered Eliot was a werewolf - it's one thing to be obsessed with sci-fi/fantasy, it's another thing entirely to see your best friend transform before your eyes

Parker was not even remotely phased, being all like, "pfft of course werewolves are real, I thought you knew that Hardison, you talk about your elves and orcs all the time!"

"Woman that is completely different and you know it!"

"What else do you think is fake? The tooth fairy?? Ha!"

Eliot is Done With Their Shenanigans

Parker only ever refers to Eliot as Sparky when he's in his wolf form

Sophie didn't actually know about werewolves before the reveal but she pretends that she did

Nate knew about werewolves before Eliot, he just chooses to pretend that they're Not A Thing

werewolves generally don't make good hitters, because the constant exposure to violence ramps up their hunting instincts aka they find it hard not to kill

of course, this doesn't matter if you're someone like Moreau who specifically wants killing machines and thus turns his top hitters into werewolves, to ensure loyalty and enhance his strength

the only other werewolf hitter not under Moreau's control that Eliot knows is Quinn, who most certainly did not pull his werewolf strength punches when they tousled in The First David Job

Quinn doesn't have a pack (werewolf or otherwise) and genuinely doesn't seem phased by this, which pisses off Eliot to no end

however, after they work together in The Last Dam Job, Quinn deems himself Eliot's Best Werewolf Bud and keeps popping up randomly to hang out on full moons, etc

Parker and Hardison are a bit weirded out (and a little jealous) of Quinn's attention initially, but soon get over that when they discover that two werewolves on a full moon absolutely play for hours like 6 month old puppies - especially with the tug rope

Eliot is Extremely Susceptible to belly rubs even in his human form, which is half the reason he pushes people out of his personal space a lot - his reputation would never survive anyone finding out

of course the entire team figures it out and take to ambushing him with belly rubs whenever he's being stubborn or annoying

belly rubs are also the only way he will relax enough when he's injured so they can treat his wounds

despite the incessant dog jokes, the ever-growing pile of dog toys, and the bowls labelled with "Sparky" and cartoon bone symbols ... Eliot absolutely adores the pack he's found himself in and wouldn't change them for the world

One of these days I will sit down and write a thousand fics for werewolf!Eliot! Till then, I'll just keep churning out the headcanons ;)

#eliot spencer #leverage #werewolf #werewolves #werewolf!eliot spencer #long post #alec hardison #parker leverage #nate ford #sophie devereaux #damien moreau #quinn leverage #wow #this ended up being a million times longer than i anticipated #i mean #i always have more to say about werewolf!eliot and eliot in general #but damn #if you made it to the end of this well done! #feel free to add your own headcanons and thoughts! #the werewolf au is my favourite playground #asks #my posts #leverage fantasy au

[socheckitout-mikey]

do u think u could do something where johnny and the reader aren't officially dating or anything but she keeps stealing and wearing his clothes, and the gang starts teasing them for it, which eventually leads to him actually asking her out? i'm sorry if this is too much or anything but thank you so much!!

ahhh this is so cute! idk how i missed this one. my apologies for taking so long writing it out. it came out waaay longer than i anticipated, but i hope you enjoy what i came up with. (': <33 - mae

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Title: The Shirt Thief

Pairing: Johnny Cade x reader

Summary: A cold night with Johnny Cade in the vacant lot brings you an unusual sense of warmth in the form of his denim jacket. What starts off with said jacket, causes you to end up with multiple articles of Johnny's clothes. It all seems harmless until the gang starts digging their noses into Johnny's business. Are you guys friends or are you more than that?

Word Count: 9,472

Disclaimer: THIS IS EDITED! I fixed the spelling mistakes and some of the grammatical errors. I also added a few new things to it, mainly in dialogue. I hope you like it though! :)

Warnings: Mentions of abuse in Johnny's home (with his parents), animals hunting and fighting, Soc's bullying the reader - vice versa, almost attempted assault, the gang coming to the rescue, rough housing with the gang (banter mainly) and a whole lot of sass! Johnny is somewhat ooc here because he's more talkative and sassy, but it's just how the piece came along! Let me know if I forgot anything else.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

  The story of our pesky shirt thief begins in the vacant lot under the sparkling night sky. This night was a relatively clear one in the cusp of autumn’s frost. The full moon was ample, a stunning silver glow that hypnotically danced, shrouded slightly from the wispy clouds sent onward by the chilly fall wind. Amber, golden and burnt brick red crumpled leaves tumbled noisily across the sandy dirt in a mini whirlwind. A toasty fire was being nurtured timidly upon the outskirts of this deserted place, courtesy of Johnny Cade. Underneath the jagged canopy of an almost bare tree, losing its wrinkled leaves, our greasy raven haired boy’s fingers quivered around the spindly stick in his hand. Gave an experimental poke to the half snapped branch swarmed by the smouldering, orange flames. He did not shiver from the cold, but from rampant nerves that pertained to someone he was particularly fond of being there beside him. That person being you.

  In a gloomy haze, stretched over sixteen years, the dependent vacant lot with all of its decaying junk left to rot had become his home away from home. It was somewhere he could come to in order to escape the harshness he had just down the street, riddled with its cluttered and intense violence. The one he had with his parents – if he could ever really call them that – had never been consumed with even an inkling of love or nurturing. It practically rotted away from the inside out with its creaky floorboards, dust riddled insides and the damp lining the walls like a thick winter scarf. A location where he was destined to be neglected in, for the only attention he obtained was to be hollered at by his mother when she was hacked off at whatever or whoever it was that particular time: Whereas his father brandished anything he could in hand to pelt him with. The thought made Johnny shudder, a sick nauseous feeling welling up inside of him. Slimy and cold.

  However, not all was lost. There had been some silver linings in teaching him things such as love, loyalty and camaraderie: His gang of reliable buddies that would stretch to the ends of the Earth for him were the culprits. Although they had nothing too, they gave him everything he’d been missing. Well, almost everything. They were the sole reason he had not run away about a million times by now. They grounded him, created a net of safety and support that he never would have experienced otherwise if he had not been born in this very downtrodden neighbourhood. Yet they could not save him from everything – a harsh reality he came face to face with daily. Nothing and no one could ever replace the lacking love of his parents.

  Nevertheless, the youthful greaser that looked as if he were a puppy that had been kicked one too many times had grown used to bumming around most nights on the busted leather car seat left to waste away in the lot. A frequent bed he now sat upon to gaze up at the glittering stars in the midnight haze of the dark sky. He pondered to himself, watching it while his most favourite person in the world sat off to his right. The silence between you both wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Just off experiencing your own inner worlds whilst you enjoyed the other’s presence. Johnny wasn’t much of a talker as is. You understood the chips he had on the table and didn’t mind in the slightest, but you had your ways of getting him talking.

  Despite the fact that he had a warmer and much more benevolent destination to crash at nightly: The Curtis House. He felt an immense pang of guilt and shame engulf him entirely at the thought of taking up that space. This house did not consume the same dreamy and abundant riches that one would desire at the core. Instead those fantasies were only destined for reality on the Wicked West Side of Tulsa, Oklahoma. “The home to the rich and greedy,” as Sodapop loved to put it.

  Although the Curtis House lacked in material volume, it oozed a charm in its bare necessities and rundown appearance, with its peeling papered walls and well played piano that needed a miracle of tuning. What it lacked when it came to standardised beauty was made up for by its glowing warmth of love, companionship and acceptance of all the inhabitants that nestled under its rickety roof. It was a safe haven for anyone needing a place to lay low to avoid getting into trouble that could be avoided; a.k.a trouble with the law. Dallas and Steve were also regular inhabitants of the well loved couch perched up against the wall by the front door of the home: A product of powerful tempers that needed quenching. They found solace on that old, brown cushiony hunk of junk just as Johnny did when the nights grew too cold or unbearable on his lonesome.

  Johnny stared up at Orion's Belt wondrously, remembering the time he'd heard Ponyboy rattle on about how he'd woken up to find the notorious Tim Shepard occupying his couch, reading the morning paper.

  'Now, what in the hell was someone like Tim Shepard doin' on the Curtis’ couch?' Johnny thought silently.

  Never had he bagged the likes of the eldest Shepard to reach out for a lifeline like that. It was almost unheard of, unfathomable. Tim was a handsome young man with a gnarly looking scar running from his temple to his chin. He was hard, cold and twisted. Jail, booze and all the criminal endeavours he had under his belt were like a morbid toolkit of how to be the best hoodlum out there. He looked about as capable of accepting charity as a lost soul in Hell. Then Johnny supposed that he never really knew him like Dally did. Johnny's silent disposition made it challenging for him to get close to anyone outside of his gang of buddies. Sometimes he preferred it this way, but usually he loathed it. Loneliness was easy in warping the soul of a good man.

  From what Dally had told him of Tim Shepard, it'd be an immense knock to his swelling pride to reach out for help and have everyone aware of it. Inflated prides and fragile egos didn't do wonders for people with big mouths. Hence why Johnny kept his damn trap shut about it after Pony had told him.

  'Man, he's gotta be pullin' my leg or somethin'.' He said internally before shaking his head.

  Expelling a breath, Johnny settled back into the leather seat as comfortably as possible. He swore he'd get a bad back after opting to take the lumpy side of the car bench with the springs gnawing their way through. It had been the gentlemanly thing to do after all. He was a good guy with a good heart.

  Warmth pervaded nicely from the reasonably sized fire he'd established in front of you both, but the chilly wind licked at any bare bits of skin daring to peer through tiny cracks in clothes. He hardly shivered outside of a nervous twitch. Perhaps that was only due to the fact he'd grown accustomed to the elements no matter the weather – unlike yourself.

  Instead his charcoal eyes were doe-like, shakily flickering to his right where you sat. Only then in this moment did he fully come to the present moment, understanding the cold bit at your nose, ears and fingers in a way that looked cute. Yet despite your shivering that you so desperately attempted to hide, you sat there in all of your beautiful glory with only a few inches of space between you both. A comfortability you bathed in that seemed so raw, as if you were merely sitting on your living room couch with both of your knees and feet tucked under you and just off to the side. Peace prevailed from the tender smile gracing your features. A subconscious practice, you definitely seemed to be lost in your own thoughts. Johnny stared at you, and wondered what kind of movie was flashing behind those pretty eyes to have the sun dawn across your face like that. To him, all he could see was the vacant lot – a desolate place where only hoodlums would hang in droves, drawn in by its trashy grounds.

  "You starin' cuz I got somethin' on my mug or it's just that ugly?" You grinned like a chessy cat, turning to look him directly in the eye. Thinking that being a wise cracker was funny.

  Damn you and your perceptiveness.

  Instantaneously Johnny ripped his gaze from yours, stiff as a plank. Embarrassment dashed across every cell in his body and left his lungs flat of oxygen. Man, if he thought his usual heartbeat was fast, what was happening inside of his chest right then must have been the speed of goddamn light!

  All he could do was stammer out, "U-u-uh n-n-neither!" The poor guy sounded like Porky The Pig. 

  Your eyelids fluttered in astonishment at the stuttering mess of a young man he was. So jumpy. A mouse scuttling around on sharp eggshells. Part of you would've felt proud of your handiwork if it had been anyone else, but it was Johnny, your best friend. "Awe shucks, Johnny-cake," you offered him sheepishly, "I didn't tell you to stop. I was just messin' with ya. Gotta keep you on your toes somehow."

  Messing with him? That was evident. He wasn't cross with you for pulling on his leg, just bothered by himself for getting caught out in the act. "S'okay, I g-get it." He shrugged, trying to play it cool whilst he stared into the portal to the Underworld.

  "Penny for your thoughts?" You tried again, bumping him softly with your shoulder.

  "Nothin' much," He lied smoothly, picking at the hole in his tennis shoe.

  "You sure you ain't developin' the cure for cancer or somethin'? You're pretty smart." You inquired with a cheeky beam.

  "Shoot! Do I look like I know what two plus two equals?" Johnny was getting a little bit sassy.

  "Okay okay, I get it. I'll back off." You chortled.

  'Yeah, thank goodness for that…' Johnny thought to himself. Suddenly he was uneasy with the idea of you ever discovering his little moments of staring at you because he loved the way you looked in candid moments like this one just passed. How did one go about saying these kinds of things? Johnny didn't know a lick. He was a dejected lost cause in the romance department. An awkward bump on a log. Felt he looked cruddy right about now too so he scratched the back of his head fervently for a second. No one really gave him a second glance. He was invisible and too quiet to be noticed.

  Yet he failed to realise that you noticed him.

  His forlorn expression had been obscured by his shaggy bangs that hung on his forehead. In fact, they no longer existed. You watched him struggle with something akin to wrestling a twenty foot gator inside of that skull of his. It made you feel funny on the inside, as if you were to blame. Diligently Johnny picked up the jagged stick he'd used to poke the flames with earlier. Started drawing in the dusty cold dirt at his feet. Back and forth, left and right, then round and round. A tedious therapeutic cycle.

  'Yup, he's off to the moon again.' You thought. 'I'll give him a sec to recoup. I think I made him short circuit a little too hard.' 

  Just then the bleakness of the night pressed its breathy lips against you. You shivered in response, huddling unconsciously to Johnny for his radiator heat. Part of him was shaking too. The flames jolted haphazardly. A violent twirl of dead leaves kicked up into the air before the wind relented altogether and they fluttered into the fire that engulfed them. It was a beautiful sight indeed, albeit destructive. The elements typically were unforgiving. That was the cycle of life. Mother Nature worked in wondrous ways that went beyond the mere perception of the human mind. Ever evolving and always there. It had put a smile on your face, and Johnny looked at you once more.

  "Now, you wanna give me a penny for your thoughts?" He asked.

  You slowly turned to look at him, your smile unwavering, "And cash in my trade secrets when you won't give me yours? That don't tally up to me."

  Johnny shrugged, trying to hide a ghost of a smile on his features, "You just caught me off guard that's all…"

  "Oooooh so I got the element of surprise on my side?" You wiggled your eyebrows. "Who knew I was mighty smooth!"

  Johnny rolled his charcoal eyes, shook his head with a laugh, "Don't get too big headed now," he warned.

  "Why, cuz I'll float away?" 

  "Naw," Johnny shook his head, "You sound like Two-bit."

  Your countenance fell from grace then; all of the humour drained completely, replaced with a sulk. "Now you just went and ruined it."

  Johnny laughed heartily, "I dunno why you got it against him, yn. It was only fifth grade-," 

  "Don't remind me of fifth grade! He put gum in my hair and you saw it." You warned with a finger pointed at him. “I looked like a coconut headed bum for two years, Johnny Cade! Two years I ain’t ever gonna get back.”

  "Alright, alright! Don't shoot." He mumbled with a half smirk on his face.

  "And don't laugh either. Who's side are you on anyway?" You mumbled with your arms folded over your chest.

  Johnny met his match in attempting to swallow the laughter down, "Who knew you were this much of a sore loser," with a shake of his head.

  "Sore loser my ass…" You retorted, looking off to the side like a petulant child.

  All Johnny could do was laugh.

  The sourness of your mood forced you to realise the lateness of the night. The cold showed its first signs of frost that danced mistily away from the firelight. You quivered fully this time, rubbing your nimble hands up and down your arms. "Are you cold?" Johnny finally had the courage to ask.

  "Uh-huh! But I'll be okay."

  "You know you don't have to tough it out for me, right?" Johnny said sincerely. "You shoulda brought a coat. It's November not August."

  "I forgot, mom." You mumbled wryly.

  "Man, don't call me that. It sounds strange." He pulled a face as he spoke.

  "And why not?" You demanded. 

  "Cuz you sound like T-," He began, but you cut him off.

  "Don't even think about saying that name!"

  Despite himself, Johnny was laughing something awful. A grin spread across his face akin to a mixture of pride and victory. He'd bested you in the end and even you knew it. "You asshole-," You muttered, but it all bled through into your own sense of laughter that mingled with his. 

  Then it seemed to die down, a comfortable glow encasing you both. In the midst of it you hardly realised Johnny shimmying beside you – too caught up in the afterglow. But then an uncanny warmth of freshly worn denim was draped over your shoulders. Ghosts of fingertips touched the nape of your neck as it was laid there. Your head turned to find Johnny retracting his hands shyly and passing it off without a word. The gesture touched you, made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

  "Why?" Your better judgement couldn't stop the question from flying out of your mouth.

  Johnny squirmed uncomfortably under your focused stare, "I dunno…" he shrugged. "You were cold and didn't have a jacket. It was the right thing to do I guess."

  The right thing to do. It made you beam beautifully then. Johnny Cade was always doing the right thing. Well, maybe not all the time when he was with his buddies, but usually he did. A good guy with a good heart that made yours flutter at the touch. The act of giving you his most prized possession really touched you in ways that made your eyes begin to water. You needed a second to blink them back. Hoping he hadn't noticed. Luckily he hadn't. 

  You thanked him in the only way you knew how to, by leaning your head on his shoulder. He stiffened to the touch, unfamiliar with it. Johnny wasn't much of a hugger, so physical contact was reserved for special moments. He allowed it this time and you felt his body shake, unsure with what to do with himself. Your fingers wrapped around his bicep, a reassuring squeeze so light it helped him realise you weren't going to hurt him. You never could. He was too special, too gentle, but wild in his own way when he let himself out freely. Yet the person he was now, the boy that gave you his jacket and talked with you the most; that was your Johnny Cade.

  "Thank you, Johnny-cake." You whispered into the air, gently holding his hand and squeezing softly. It was sweaty.

  "D-don't mention it." He swallowed, giving you an experimental squeeze back. "It's just my jacket, softie."

  "Who you callin' softie?" You look up at him with a cocked eyebrow.

  "You."

  Silence befell you, and it was laced in a tranquil dose. Hushed whispers reverberated off of the caverns in your hearts, growing more prominent. All the giggles filled with the springy frolicking of baby lambs. Clumsy and endearing. Johnny lit a fire in you unmatched and vice versa. Young love that was mutual, but unknown to the other. You stayed with him for quite some time, until he walked you home. You'd sent him off with a wave after him shyly telling you to keep it. Made him promise not to sleep out in the cold, and Johnny kept his word. Slunk all the way to the Curtis House three hours before sunup to fortunately find it free. Rest was his, all with a smile screwed on tightly to his features.

  Many more instances of thievery occurred with your pesky little fingers and the growing feelings that possessed you like a restless spirit. Time spent with Johnny became your drug of choice, and you could not get enough of him. No funny business was happening, it was just your personalities melding well together. You brought out a sassy part to him, and surprisingly he could keep up with you. Each meeting was set in colder conditions than the last. Forcing Johnny to bring in what little reinforcements he had. You either seemed to forget a jacket or your layers weren't nearly enough. His jacket was a chameleon's skin, bouncing from his shoulders to yours. His shirts were a comforting reminder of him when he wasn't around – shields against the bleakness of winter. His grey sweatshirt was your favourite. Everything began to accumulate. 

  One day you were both coming from the tracks in the Shepard outfit where a little creek was running through another vacant lot by an old abandoned factory. The water was still frozen and the trees were barren. All sorts of junk stuck to the frosty ground. It was kind of niche-like, a quiet place that seemed abandoned when the sun shone its rays upon Tulsa. It had been an accidental find during a summer day the year before. A superb place to explore when things were warmer and less soggy. Though it was apparent that neither of you had the courage to explore the dangerous insides of the abandoned warehouse in its entirety. Anyone could be lurking there, boobietrapped the innards to protect their stashed hoards. So the pair of you stuck to the outskirts towards the vacant lot beside it.

  There you both were, sat upon a crumpled wall, admiring a winter's afternoon like a pair of Humpty Dumpty’s. The sun was bright in the sky, threatening to melt the world entirely. The first inklings of spring graced reality. The robins were chirping, hopping around in search of food nearby. Adorable feathered critters, so fluffy. They reminded Johnny of Christmas as one turned its neck beside him, curiously looking up into his black eyes. Both were inquisitive of the other.

  "He looks like you-," your half whisper broke out into the air too loudly. The disturbance made the robin jolt and fly off.

  Johnny sighed, "Man, he got so close this time. You just had to go and ruin it didn't you?"

  "I'm sorry. Was there a spiritual connection happening? How rude of me!" You gasped with a hand over your heart.

  He shook his head, grinning because he wasn't angry about it at all. "He was a cute little guy though…"

  "Hence why I said he looked like you." You clarified.

  Johnny exploded with a blush, shaking his head again, "You must've hit your head when you fell on the ice earlier."

  "My head is not any worse off than it was before, thank you very much!" You defended yourself.

  "You know, the first sign of someone tellin’ porkies is denial, right?"

  "I am not tellin’ porkies!"

  "Are too-," Johnny countered, nudging you with his elbow.

  "Am not!"

  Falling back into that effortless banter made you both grin like chessy cats. It was silly, but very much needed. You knew Johnny got extra embarrassed whenever you'd start complimenting him, especially in the looks department. You didn't say these things just to throw him off, but because you truly meant them. Johnny was cute. One of the cutest guys you'd seen in a longtime. Maybe he wasn't moviestar handsome like Sodapop, but girls were missing out when they overlooked him. He had his own things to bring to the table; loyalty, kindness, abiding the law… Just to name a few. You suddenly shook these thoughts out of your head, deciding if you went too deeply down this path that it was best not to be done in Johnny’s presence. Lest you were to blabber about it like you'd done to your other friends who'd told you to ask him out already. They just didn't understand how delicate the matter was really. Johnny wouldn't say yes anyway.

  "Hey look! Those cats are back," Johnny quietly hissed by your side, pulling you out of your daze.

  You followed his line of sight and sure enough the two male felines were there. Lithe in nature and mean looking. A skinny orange tabby trotted forward, a snaggle tooth protruding from his mouth. By his side was his black Bombay counterpart, scraggy bodied with dirty fur and a distinct chip taken from his ear. They were silent, far from their former glory days when they knew what a good home was. The Bombay was a little bigger than his cheddar companion, and it was easily understood by any human looking in that a pact had been formed between them through a necessity to survive. The pair of you had spied them before, a distrusting set that initially hissed and growled. They were all claws and teeth so you kept your distance to avoid any surprise visits to the clinic. However now they seemed to tolerate your presence, acting as if the silence you exuded exempted your existence. Johnny and you admired them, goofy grins on your faces, because the cats were ready to commit their timely crime of hunting for some grub of the day. You knew who they reminded you of.

  "Well if that ain't Dally and Tim," You consciously made the effort to whisper.

  Johnny nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I can see it."

  "Which one's which?" You asked, genuinely curious about Johnny's take.

  He was reluctant to take his eyes off the cats, watching them begin prowling forth towards an unsuspecting robin. "Huh?" he hummed, finally looking at you just as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

  "Which cat is Dally and which one is Tim? You know 'em better than I do." You pressed softly.

  "Oh, that's easy, Dally's the ginger tabby and Tim's the Bombay." He offered with a nod of his head in the felines direction.

  "What why?" You demanded it up at him.

  “Well if we’re goin’ off their looks for a start, Tim looks like the Bombay cat. Guy is a real alley cat – got a lot of street smarts and carries himself well. Besides, he's tougher than a bag of nails.” Johnny did have a point – Tim looked just like that black cat with his curly jet hair.

  Speaking of the black cat, it had entered a state of hunting, kneeling down with coiled taught muscles – just ready to pounce on that unsuspecting robin below, pecking at the seeds you and Johnny had left behind earlier. You hoped it wouldn’t be eaten, couldn’t stomach to see something so savage. However, you supposed that was only the way the circle of life worked.

  “The orange tabby’s Dally cuz of that cool look in his eyes. The way he carries himself so freely. Out of the two, the tabby’s the one that’s in charge somehow. He writes the rules that the other cat’s always tryna best.” Johnny offered with a brief shrug before continuing, “Not that the black cat is following any rules. Both have minds of their own.”

  Boy, you could really hear the way he admired Dallas Winston from the way he spoke about the orange tabby. It was wholesome. Dally was Johnny’s hero — the kid practically worshipped the ground the guy walked on. You didn’t see why. To you, Dallas Winston was a rotten hoodlum with a track record of breaking the law in every way, shape and form that he could. He frightened you like The Boogeyman had when you were nine. Where you both engaged with each other somewhat cordially, you preferred to keep your distance. You supposed that you had no room to judge after all. There was a deep friendship that had developed between him and Johnny; you’d seen it in Dally’s cold hard eyes… affection. It made you grin then, wondering if Johnny thought strangely of your heroes too.

  “And both of them are jackasses.” You countered, bumping his shoulder mischievously.

  Johnny laughed a little, looking at you for a few short moments. “Yeah alright, I’ll give you that.”

  You liked the way he’d described the two though. It was a statement that fit the pair of hoodlums in a peapod together. Yet the orange tabby did appear to be the leader as it licked its wonky chops delectably. Inched closer by the second, a silent assassin to carry out its hunter gatherer lifestyle. It was intelligent, mimicking the movement of the robin that had caught onto it. It lured the bird on a swift and winding course, swiping for it good and hard but missed. Never mind. The robin fluttered up and into the line of sight of the black cat, a moment of fear in its beady eyes. Yet just as the night-like feline swept its razors at it, the robin burst into the air and flew off in the opposite direction. It had missed its meal by a feathers length. Every other robin in the vicinity flew off instantly, leaving the two cats dumbfounded.

  In frustration, the orange tabby yowled and darted forth. Its clawed paw zipped out and popped the mouth of the black cat. The black cat hissed, stunned for a mere second before it lunged for the only comrade it had in this god forsaken world. The two tumbled together in an infuriated Halloween special of blurred fur. A gasp floated from your mouth as they rolled back and forth. A genuine cat fight unheard of. They sounded like two ghouls trying to out spook the other – alien and loud.

  Johnny couldn’t help but laugh out of nervousness. He wasn’t trying to be cruel whatsoever. Didn’t like to see animals fighting and hurting each other, but it humoured some sick part of him. “Just like Dally and Tim, huh? Buddies one minute then at each other’s throats the next.”

  “Amen to that.” You found the humour of the situation, only because it was too similar to the real life hoodlums you both knew.

  You’d seen your fair share of those guys beefing it out in the past together in The Dingo parking lot, let alone practically in your own backyard. They were a strange duo – too competitive and cut from the same cloth. They’d never find another person just like them, that was for sure.

  Just then an icy gust came throttling through the area, reminding you both that it was still winter. A tremor ran through the pair of you, and you huddled together for warmth. By now the cats had slumped off to their own corners of the lot, hissing and growling as they went. Sore egos and bodies made them sulk and mewl in the shade whilst they licked their wounds.

  “Dammit-,” your teeth chattered, moving closer to Johnny. “March my ass…”

  Johnny breathed a laugh, shaking his head. He scanned your features humorously, those bushy brows hidden by a thick blanket of his black greasy bangs that flopped onto his forehead.

  “What?” You mumbled, your fingertips unconsciously reached for him in the space between you both. Johnny didn’t notice.

  He stared at you for a good three seconds before opening his mouth to speak, “How can you be cold with all those layers you got on?”

  “Well I mean it’s obvious, it’s winter.”

  “Uh-huh-,” Johnny sassed, smirking slightly, “As if you ain’t wearin’ my shirt, my sweater and my jeans jacket too. Got the whole department store on your back.”

  Abashment took hold of you as your gaze dropped down to inspect yourself. There was Johnny’s jacket on you, and underneath his tattered grey sweater, that black t-shirt poking up above the collar. And Johnny? He was adorned in a wrinkled white shirt with a blue and creamy egg yellow flannel over the top you guessed was one of the gang’s. Worn over that was Dally’s brown leather jacket with the cosy sheepskin lining. You pouted with a bruised ego, looking off to the side, “It’s not like you’re naked or nothin’…” you murmured petulantly.

  Johnny chuckled breathily, your joined hands jostling as he tugged on it without any semblance of awareness, as if to gain your attention. “Not yet, but I’m gonna be! Man, do you know what I had to say to get this jacket from Dally?” He was teasing you.

  “Mmmppppffff…” you grunted, crossing your legs on that wall.

  “The guys are askin’ questions and I dunno what to tell ‘em any more!” His voice broke a bit before he continued, “Two thinks I’m preparin' to run down the centre of town butt naked!”

  That made you burst out into fits of giggles. The thought was so unorthodox it was hilarious. “You’re tellin’ him that’s the truth right? God, could you imagine? I can see the news articles now: Johnny Cade, Teenage Delinquent Gone Buck Wild!” You beamed, throwing your free hand out to elaborate some unseen picture.

  Johnny shook his head again, laughing with you, “Man, you’re just as bad as Soda!”

  “I’m twice as good looking too!” You offered with all the cheekiness you could muster.

  All he could offer was an entertained roll of his eyes. Your shoulders bumped together, old comrades turned into something more. His soft gaze fell onto your interwoven fingers, and his heart fluttered like dove wings. A widened gaze, then that notorious blush exploded under that tanned flesh. His mind was incapable of functioning. It was wholesome, but you read everything wrong. Made a move to release his hand and he stopped you.

  "Don't." It was the strongest word you'd heard from him as he held your hand tighter than he ever had before. Not enough to hurt you, but to let you know it was real too.

  "Y-you sure?" It was your turn to stutter.

  The look he shared with you may have been wavering to some degree, but there was certainty in those eyes. His mouth opened to speak, "Yeah, I don't mind one bit."

   I don't mind one bit. It ran round and round in your head. A starstruck expression invaded your beautiful countenance. The reassurance was a bonus that made your belly fill with a plethora of butterflies. Cloud nine had nothing on this moment.

  Johnny explored the expressions flitting across your face with a newfound sense of wonder. That pleasant delight racing through you was infectious as you stared off into the junk riddled vacant lot, your mind preoccupied with his hand in yours. The sun dawned across your features once again, like that autumn night you'd spent with him in your neighbourhood's vacant lot. The understanding that he was the source of that made his belly squirm, a giddiness overcoming him. He could no longer deny the fondness he had for you so blatantly.

  With him leaning a little closer to you, he whispered, "How about you give me at least some of my stuff back?" 

  "Mmmmm maybe,"

  "yn-," there was an uncommon sense of sternness in his voice.

  "But-," You tried objecting.

  "No buts-," he rushed out with a shake of his head, "At least give me one! I've been wearing this shirt for three days now!" He was hilariously incredulous.

  "Is that why you stink?" You taunted him.

  "Not funny-," He made his best attempt to be cross with you.

  "Okay, okay! I'll give them back." You said begrudgingly.

  "You better bring the cavalry with how much you have stolen from me, you little shirt thief."

  "In my defence, you did give them to me… But I'll have them for you next time I see you, scouts honour!" You spoke sincerely with your free hand held dramatically over your heart.

  "Uh-huh, that's what you said last time and I still didn't get 'em back." He bantered.

  "Well, that wasn't a real scout's honour." You admitted with a diffident rub to the back of your head.

  "yn-," he shook his head.

  "Hey! I'm serious this time."

  "Good…" He trailed off, his other hand beginning to play with the rings banded around your fingers absentmindedly.

  Blissfulness carried upon the wind, a promise of returning what wasn't yours already settled. Golden light broke through the clouds, catching Johnny in the face directly, which made him grimace evidently. You grew lost in his handsome physique, feeling the pad of his thumb drag up and down the back of your hand. The sensation was special, because Johnny had warmed up to you so much.

  It was a lively Saturday night, and with the determined honour of a scout member, you showed up like clockwork with a bag filled with Johnny's things. It was just as the crowds at The Nightly Double encroached upon the Tulsa streets in boisterous droves. Everyone was high on the giddy delight of the movie they had just watched – the late night viewing of two specials before the drive-in closed its doors for the night. Previous arrangements with another friend had you missing out on the fun, but here you were wearing your very own leather jacket with Johnny's denim one bunched up nervously in the palms of your hands. Speaking of Johnny, he had tagged along with the gang – minus Darry, because movies seemed to bore the older man to death.

  A pair of scrawny looking Socy guys stalked out of the front doors, acting like big shots, cutting in front of a dark green Corvair on its way out and into the oncoming traffic. The driver of the same social class hung out of the driver's window whilst his girl attempted to pull him back in.

  "Hey watch it, wise guys! If you're lookin' to get your asses run over, then be my guests and step back in my line of sight!" He snarled aggressively before his girlfriend won the battle and pulled him back inside to tell him to "knock it off".

  A line began to form behind them as the couple argued incessantly, presumably over the guy's foul temper. Car horns honked on the spring breeze, forcing the guy to nervously step on the gas. They almost crashed into a Chevy Impala before zipping off home. You could see the animated scowl of the girl refusing to talk to her boyfriend in the side view mirror as they retreated. She glowered at you as if you were the scum of the earth. It didn't make you feel too hot.

  The two wisecracking Soc's cackled at their attempts at being hard, stalking forth when they caught sight of your lonesome form. Vile cackles were shot your way as they walked past you before deciding the better option was to encircle you like a couple of hammerhead sharks.

  'Boy, these dingbats don't know what tree they're barking up.' You thought, stiffening your body up for any form of unexpected physical contact. You weren't gonna let yourself get blown over that easy. 

  "What's up, greaser? You lookin' to bum around on our streets?" The six foot tall pencil with the sour breath sneered down at you, bumping your shoulder, making a come around to your left. When he disappeared behind you, the other one with chestnut hair the texture of straw invaded your face.

  "Yeah, who said you were allowed round these parts anyway?" He jeered, smacking his gum obnoxiously.

  Typically these dorks wouldn't have been graced with so much of your attention, but being on your own with a whole sea of onlookers made you weary. However you sure didn't show it. No one was there to stand up for you so you had to do it yourself. All you could do was raise your eyebrows, feeling the burning sense of humiliation rise from the pits of hell beneath your feet. It felt toasty, but the wrong kind. A glower of pure vexation was sent up their way. 'Who are these cocky jackasses, anyway? I've got the same right to use these streets like anyone else!' You contemplated.

  "Oh really? I never knew white trash chequerboards like yourselves owned the streets everybody walks on." Your lips flapped wryly before you could even say a word.

  The entertained gazes of onlookers of every social class stopped to stare. Murmurs of speculation broke out: Two against one didn't typically seem like a fair fight, but with the sheer scrawniness of the socially elite, it seemed to look like the chips fell in your favour. Though you knew appearances could be deceiving, harbouring a surprising sense of physical strength.

  In a rift of the crowd, six pairs of familiar eyes honed in on your shining moment of unprovoked confrontation.

  "White trash chequerboards?!" The pencil growled out, sharing a glance with his straw haired counterpart. For the most part they were dumbfounded, not having expected you to stand up for yourself.

  "If anyone's white trash, it's you, greaseball." The second one jutted his finger in your face.

  Nothing about your countenance betrayed you. Cold and detached you stared at that finger in your face with a deep sense of boredom. Then an almost smug smirk etched your features as you stared up into his grey eyes.

  "Oh my, my!" A dripping sense of mocking venom entered your tone. "Seems like I got more class than that finger you got pointed at me. Seriously, you got a licence to be armed with carryin' that thing? You better watch what you do with it before it falls into the wrong hands. You know, because with great power comes great responsibility and all." You were armed with so much sass it made you invincible.

  The crowd surrounding you burst into a fit of laughter so potent that it burnt these punks into a startled pile of ash. The pair of Soc's were so vapid that they were a bore even to themselves, which is why they were acting out as if they were five times their sizes. You were lively, armed with a silver tongue that could slice just about anyone to pieces who tried to humiliate you.

  "Oh yeah, you little punk?" The first one growled, invading all sense of your personal space.

  You took one step back, your eyebrows raised, "It's his responsibility, not mine. Whatch'yu gettin' all riled up for, eh? Can't take a joke, Mister Funny?"

  "I'll show you a joke when I knock your two front teeth out." He barked.

  Oooh's and aaah's broke through the crowd on a symphony of guffawing. You cocked one eyebrow up at him, a cockiness overcoming you. What could you do otherwise? If no one had your back, you had to have your own. That was just the way the cookie crumbled when you were a greaser – if there was a cookie at all.

  "Oooooh~ Don't threaten me with a good time, pencil dick." You snorted. "I will bend your ass like a goddamn pretzel before you can even have a chance to beg for your mommy to save you."

  The two guys shared a look, the degradation burning their senses of pride to withering embers. Their faces were pinkened beyond recognition, boarding on a fiery red. Your insults only poured gasoline on the fires. They couldn't back out now with the engrossed mass around the three of you. Your body stiffened as they went to grab you, preparing yourself for a fight that would no doubt cause the fuzz to come shutting it down. The image of yourself being cuffed in the back of a cop car had you overcome with a sense of terror. You weren't made for jail with your sharp tongue and sass. Wouldn't last two seconds flat in a grim place like that.

  Before any contact could occur, a boisterous New York accent throttled into the air, a familiar arm slinking over your shoulders, "Hey Dumb and Dumber, you really wanna go gettin' your asses handed to you by a girl in front of all of these people?" Dallas was snickering with a smoke hanging out of his mouth, leaning against you smoothly as he patted your upper arm, but he wasn't your only saviour.

  The other five lean and hard looking members of the Curtis gang had rolled up in all of their greasy headed glory. Pony and Johnny were Dally's flanks whilst Sodapop and Steve jammed themselves on either side of the pathetic turkeys that had bothered you. Two-bit prowled like a cat, that smug, wild grin carved onto his handsome features. The oldest of the six came in the centre of the perpetrators, an arm slung on each of their shoulders. It was overly friendly, even for Two.

  "Well, well, well, if it ain't the socially elite barking up a tree they didn't know was a mountain! I'd get your eyes checked if I were you." He laughed, squeezing them together under his impressive arms. The others joined in.

  "I think it's time these tuff lookin' sons of bitches got in the ring with the big shots." Steve yipped sarcastically, clapping the straw haired guy on the back a little too roughly.

  "Lookin' like a bunch of heavyweight champs, am I right?" Soda leered, his once kind blue eyes filled with a mischievous malice.

  The two Soc's looked at each other, realising they'd made a mistake in targeting you. "We don't want any trouble." The first one said, fumbling.

  "Yeah! We was only just jokin' around." The other made a pitiful attempt at joining in on the laughter.

  "Oh really now?" Dally quipped through dragon's breath, plucking his smoke from his lips and wiping the back of his index finger under his nose like he was annoyed. "I call bullshit, beanpole. Ain't that right, Johnny?" Dally asked Johnny, motioning towards him.

  With a black gaze as cold as obsidian, Johnny nodded his head, "Sure thing, Dally." He refused to take his gaze off of the perpetrators who recognised that hoodlum's menacing name anywhere.

  "Pony?" Dally turned, looking over your head at the fourteen year old greaser with the greyish green eyes. He put that smoke back in between his lips and inhaled sharply.

  "Yup!" Pony popped the 'p' at the end of the word.

  "Great, it's settled!" Dally exclaimed, pulling his arm from over your shoulders and rubbing his hands together like a fly with an evil plan. He stepped forward, his face a mere couple of inches from theirs. "You dumbasses get to go toe to toe with me for fucking with the wrong person, and then my buddies will have what's left of you. How do you like the sound of that?" 

  The way Dally seethed it even had you shaking in your boots. There was almost a sense of honour riding on your guts. It wasn't everyday that Dallas Winston was standing up for you, but when it happened you took it willingly. The two guys had become pale ghosts, shuddering with sweat dewing their foreheads. Dally meant those words, but it seemed he was mainly toying with them. So were the rest of the gang too. With matching Cheshire grins plastered on their faces they watched as the two shoved past Soda, tripping over the boot Johnny had stuck out and shot in through an opening in the crowd to salvation. Sent to faceplant on the ground with a series of laughter as the drama seemed to be over for the most part and people lost interest.

  "Where are you goin'? Wait until we set her on ya!" Sodapop called, wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulders. 

  "Yeah, she may seem like she’s all bark, but she's got one hell of a bite!" Steve cackled.

  Lost in an ocean of chaos, Johnny's inquiry of concern for you slithered back down his throat. He bled into the background, admiring the way your eyes rolled as the wisecracking descended upon you.

  "The hell was that, kid?" Dally said between inhaling his smoke. Rubbing the top of your head with his ringed fingers awarded him with a generous shove from you. His treatment hurt, but he was happy to see you, which was unusual.

  "Get offa me-," You grunted and he eventually relented.

  Before Steve could chime in about you being a smart ass or wandering around on your lonesome, your most dreaded member of the gang came blundering on over. A half drunken stupor holding him up by some invisible string, "Haha! Where did you learn to talk like that? Dare I say you got some inspiration from somebody in particular?" He waggled his eyebrows at you.

  "Oh, well ain't those the biggest words you’ve ever said! Ugh, don’t make me sick, two cents." You bit at him.

  "Eh, at least I'm worth somethin' in this world." He chuckled, clapping your shoulder.

  "That was meant to be an insult." You retorted.

  "Really? That's a whole compliment and a half!" He exclaimed with his arms thrown up.

  "Yeah yn, I sure can hear the church bells ringin' right now!" Soda grinned at you, cupping his free hand over his ear. In fact, to seal the deal he wrapped his arm around your shoulders as the seven of you began walking to your neighbourhood.

  Steve came up on the other side, walking the tight line of the curb, "From haters to lovers!" He beamed, spreading his palms out in the open space before you like he was presenting a far away picture. "It all started when you were in fifth grade and he was in sixth, gum to the hair, a pop to the mouth and the rest was history!"

  Johnny listened and observed, laughing halfheartedly along with his buddies. Something about Soda's and Steve's words tugged on his heartstrings in a plucking fashion. It was uncomfortable and didn't sit right with him. Yet he couldn't be too mopey about it, it wasn't like anybody knew his growing feelings for you. By now there was a confusion in your friendship, as if all these special moments you'd experienced together had evolved the friendship into something else. He was afraid of what that meant. Things would never be the same ever again, and he found himself eyeing up the bag full of his clothes on your shoulder and his jeans jacket wadded into your hand.

  Well, at least your promise had been genuine this time.

  If you weren't riled up before you were now. A sucker punch to the gut was minutely dodged by Steve, who hopped to safety behind Dallas like a kangaroo. Being surrounded by people you knew was nice as the mood settled somewhat. Johnny found his natural place to the left of you, keeping in time with your easy pace.

  Sodapop raised his eyebrows and asked the question everyone had been wondering, "Hey yn, what were you doing there all alone?"

  "Ain't that Steve's line?" You quipped.

  “Gettin’ to be more and more like Ponyboy everyday, yn!” Steve warned, messing up Pony’s hair for comedic relief.

  Pony was certainly not pleased, pulling his comb out of his back pocket and using the sideview mirror of a car to fix his hair in the dark. “Stupid Steve…” grumbled past his lips.

  “What was that?” Steve barked next to Soda.

  “Nothin’, said I looked stupid…” He lied with burnt cheeks and ears to match.

  "That's what I thought, little guy." Steve stared at him.

  Once the commotion had somewhat settled Dally eyed you up and spoke through his smoke, “Soda’s got a point. What were you doing there?” He noticed that bag over your shoulder and whistled, “Did your goody two shoes ass get kicked out or are you just droppin’ by to bid your farewells on us common folk before you skip town?”

  Put on the spot, you hesitated for a second, “Uh, I just came to see Johnny.”

  “With the entire mall's inventory?” Two grinned wickedly, pressing for more information. "Johnny's become quite the charity case lately." He teased, noogying Johnny playfully who shrugged him off with a small laugh.

  “Hey wait a sec, isn't that Johnny’s jeans jacket?” Pony spoke up once his precious hair had been rearranged.

  Dallas’s pesky fingers swiped the jacket in your hands with a mind of his own – and like a chimp, he examined its authentication closely. The five other members gathered around him as if he held the fifth wonder, which left you and Johnny with the liberation of simultaneously backing up at the edges of the throng. “You wanna make a break for it?” You hissed your suggestion at Johnny, who nodded his head.

  That’s when five heads whipped up with dumbfounded expressions. This was Johnny’s jacket! The one he said he’d lost. Soda’s eyes were the first to eye up that bag strapped to your shoulder, a familiar grey sweater poking out through the zipper that wouldn't close properly. “Hold on one stinkin’ minute.” Realisation hit him with a dopey grin.

  Two caught on next, his hand grasping the bag strap and pulling it from your shoulder. In the same motion he’d freed the grey sweater from the confines, only to find more clothes underneath. “Haha!” He cackled noisily, “You’re the one who’s been swiping his clothes? You sly fox!”

  “Johnny and yn sitting in a tree-,” Steve cackled, only to get cut off by Dally who smacked him in the chest.

  “What are you man, four?”

  “Four?! I’ll show you four!”

  “Oh glory-,” You mumbled, looking at Johnny, “I think I made a mistake.”

  “You think?” He hissed, his tone was somewhat biting, looking scared stiff for the incoming of terrible teasing.

  "Johnny's got a girlfriend! Johnny's got a girlfriend!" Soda and Two started chanting, patting and shaking their pal with enthusiasm. It wasn't long before the other three started in on it too. The chant of the year belted out from strong chests on shrill wails of hyena laughter.

  "Check him out, famous ladies man! I knew you had it in ya Johnny." Dally clapped his back.

  "Should've known you were stealing my girl, Johnny." Two teased. "You can have her the first five days of the week, but I call dibs on weekends! That's when she gets extra sassy."

  "In your dreams, two shits." You barked.

  "I dream of sixth grade every night!" Two swooned, making you laugh.

  Johnny was as red as a beet, even Ponyboy couldn’t contain his laughter. 'Boy, do we have something to tell Darry!' Pony's and Soda's eyes gleamed dazzlingly.

  "Eh, guess you won't be needing this!" Dally grinned from behind you both, softly tugging on his leather jacket Johnny was wearing. In one fell swoop it was off of his shoulders and draped over Dally’s humble forearm.

  “Here you go, young sire!” Sodapop bowed with a roll of his hand, an English accent flawlessly executed.

   In came Steve on one knee, holding up the humble denim article he'd swiped from Dally's pesky digits. “Oh Johnny, with all of my love for you, will you take this humble offer?” he exclaimed dramatically.

  Johnny snatched the jacket from Steve’s gripey hands, along with the bag of his shirts you’d brought along from Two-bit. He was embarrassed, that was evident. Wished you’d done this at a different time, but hey, duty called; a promise was a promise. Scout’s honour, right?

  Without even thinking he grabbed your hand in his, reeling you away from the madness, all sassy. “Alright, that’s enough now!”

  A chorus of wolf whistles expelled into the air. Wildness evident in the five guys who'd grown up with the both of you. They were just playing of course, excited that Johnny finally had a lady in hand. It wasn't often the raven haired greaser picked someone up, let alone initiated any physical contact – romantically of course. Johnny had always been quite reserved, but here he was taking the initiative, pulling you around in the opposite direction of them. Surprisingly assertive despite him shaking like a goddamn ghost.

  You guys got maybe a few feet away when Dallas called out on the wind, “Hey yn, you better not be takin’ off the clothes on Johnny's body or he’ll be arrested for public indecency!”

  "I said that's enough!" Johnny called back, heat vivid on his cheeks.

  With that you both escaped around the next corner, the gang's calls and laughter fading into the background. Dipped into an alleyway to lose them for good. Glory knew they'd follow you both, and Johnny couldn't bear the thought of that. There was exhilaration in your chests. Johnny's hand was hot and sweaty in yours when you wound onto Pickett and Sutton. The air felt tight and you were afraid you'd just made an inconsolable mess of everything.

  “Honest to God Johnny, that wasn’t planned-,”

  He was sour, scrunching up his face, “Shoulda just let you keep these things.” He said with a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. “They looked better on you anyway.”

  “Johnny Cade,” you gasped, stopping in the middle of the street, the yellow light from above illuminating you both, “was that you flirting with me?”

  Albeit clumsy, he was endearing. “Maybe, I dunno.” His cheesy grin warmed your heart.

  All you could do was gawk at him.

  “Look, all I know is that I kinda don’t mind you stealing my crap, okay?”

  “So I have special authority to steal? What is this, a secret mission for your girlfriend?” You grasped onto his arm, leaning into him.

  Girlfriend settled in the air in a peculiar fashion. It had never been uttered before, you both had just been friends up until this point. The confusion between you both seemed to fizzle away. The term sounded right. Johnny didn't want to be your friend any more, the guy on the sidelines dreaming of being with you. He swallowed thickly, looking at you.

  "I'm sorry I-," he cut you short.

  "Nah don't be." He shook his head softly.

  "So uh," you breathed a laugh, "that means we're like dating? " You tested the word on your tongue.

  He exploded with a blush, and a sense of pride swelled in your heart. "Y-yeah-," he nodded softly.

  It went quiet, but nothing was awkward about it. Two hearts galloped like wild horses through summer filled fields. You found the courage to speak first, whispering mischievously into his ear, "So what about that secret mission?"

  Johnny rolled his eyes, but breathy humour expelled from his lips, “Operation Shirt Thief!” He said in his best movie man trailer voice.

  You burst out in a fit of giggles, the walk home feeling bountiful and warm.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

please like, reblog and follow for more!

requests: closed!

#johnnycade #johnny cade #johnny cade x reader #johnny cade imagines #johnny cade headcanons #the outsiders #the outsiders imagines #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders johnny cade #the outsiders johnny cade x reader #the outsiders johnny cade imagines #the outsiders johnny cade headcanons #i hope you enjoyed!!

[ramp-it-up]

Paring: Ransom Drysdale x Reader (Minx Drysdale)

Word Count: a little over 1K

Summary: Ransom helps your anxiety.

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, RPF. Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. Mentions of anxiety, nervousness, restless sleep. Soft Ransom, sleepy sex, manual sex, nipple play, overstimulation, squirting, oral sex, p-in-v, a lil' dumbification kink, good girl kink, degradation kink, dirty talk, breeding kink.

A/N: This is for #KinktoberMaybe and may or may not be based on some things that may or may not have happened in real life. Part of the Minx Series.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

"You Up?"

You rolled over and looked Ransom in his sky blue eyes. Maybe you’d dreamt him asking you that. It made you remember the days when he would text you begging to come over at 2 am.

After he’d just left you at midnight.

“Mornin’ Ran.”

Ransom leaned up on his elbow and so he could see you better. You’d been sleeping restlessly, making a 180 degree turn with your head ending up at the foot of the bed.

You'd been ball of anxiety lately, working on the final edits of your book and more than a little nervous about your debut novel, despite the encouragement Ransom and Walter gave you. Ransom had even said it was the most brilliant thing he’d read in a while. That was high praise coming from him.

Caring for an active toddler and trying to make sure that you didn’t neglect Ransom were forefront in your mind as well. You were exhausted from what seemed a million things at once and had fallen into bed late the night before.

“You sure you’re awake?”

He did ask you that. You smiled at your husband and nodded.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“Good. C’mere. Wanna make you cum.”

Your giggle caught in your throat as you saw he was serious. You just hummed as you moved into his outstretched arms and grabby hands.

“Ran?”

You had no doubt about his desire for you, but this was new.

Ransom pulled down your panties and lifted your tank top up to your chin. He pulled you close and hooked his leg over yours, opening you up to the cool air of the room.

“Been thinking about this all night when you were tossing and turning. You need something to calm you the fuck down.”

You gasped as Ransom moved his fingers into your mouth.

“Be a good fucking girl and get ‘em wet for me, Minx.”

“Hmmmm? Ummmhmmm.”

You nodded as your eyes rolled back into your head. Your anxiety started slipping away as Ransom whispered sweet nasty words in your ear.

“I’m gonna play with this sweet, sloppy cunt until you cum a couple of times in my arms. I’m gonna hold you down and make you take it while I watch that perfect slutty face of yours as you take what I do to you.”

Ransom was already playing with one nipple with the hand that was around you and grasping you close to him; as he withdrew his fingers from your mouth, a trail of saliva filled the path of his fingers down your neck and to the other as he twisted your nipples in tandem. You moaned at the disparate sensations from wet and dry fingers, wiggling in his grasp.

“Look at you. Going dumb all from me playing with you already. Gonna be my sweet little dumb baby girl? I haven’t even started yet. Go dumb all you want. Just be sure not to run away from what I’m about to do.”

You sighed and sank further into his arms, trusting and anticipating the pleasure that was to come.

“Oh!”

Ransom’s hand was at your pussy now, and the quick force of air before his finger came down to slap it was your only warning.

“Ran!”

You arched, pushing your ass into the mattress and your head into his arm as you moved with pleasure. You could feel his hard cock on your hip and the wet spot on his boxers and you reached for it.

Ransom let you have what you wanted, and he kissed your temple.

“Sweet little dumb Minxy for my cock. Go ahead. Play with it. S’not gonna stop me from doing what I want.”

Ransom smoothed his fingers down your clit, collecting the wetness there and pushing all three fingertips inside you sideways as your thumb swiped across his wet, dripping slit.

“Fuck, Ran…,” you whined as he moved and curled his digits just right to reach that sweet spongy spot inside you. Ransom thought you were the most beautiful thing in the world.

“Right… right there, hunh?”

Ransom chuckled into your ear as you opened your legs wider for him. He bit your earlobe as his thumb strummed your clit. Your legs started shaking and you arched into his mouth which was now at your nipple, sucking hard and causing sparks to go off behind your eyelids.

“Ummmhmmmm.”

You started stroking him faster and licking your lips. Ransom was paying rapt attention to all your expressions.

“What’re you thinking about, Minxy? Giving me that neck while I make you cum? Want me to stuff it down your throat?”

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as the thought made you even wetter and Ransom could feel your pussy tremor.

“Yes, please Ran!”

You nodded frantically.

“Not this time, Minx. You always manage to distract me with that and you run away from your orgasm. This time you’re gonna get what you deserve.”

“Nooo…”

This time you shook your head as Ransom carefully watched your face. He could read you like a book and he pulled you even closer by pulling his arm around your throat. He pulled your legs even further apart as he concentrated on circling your clit as he controlled your air.

You grasped at his arm because you felt what was coming, and it was going to be big. Ransom eased up on your windpipe as you arched into the bed again, your body stiffening as you neared the top of the rollercoaster of pleasure. His mouth drew nearer to your ear as you signaled how close you were.

"Give it to me, Minx."

That gravelly bass was all you needed.

“Uh.. ah. OHHHFFUUUUCCCKKK!”

You became a bucking bronco and Ransom's strong arms and leg held you captive to feeling all of the pleasure. Your mind blanked as Ransom relentlessly thumbed your clit.

You couldn't breathe, but you managed a weak, “S-t-tooo much…”

“You can take it. You’re a strong girl. A real good girl Minx. You made me fall for you. You carried Golden. You can do anything. My good, sweet girl.”

You began to feel another orgasm building as Ransom continued. You felt the pressure building again and had to get away, trying to grab his hand in vain.

Ransom’s muscles rippled as his arm stayed right where it was. He palmed the back of your head and tilted your head.

“Look at that. I want you to see what I’m doing to you. What your body is going to do for me…”

He groaned as he felt your pussy spasm when you watched his fingers moving on you.

“Ransom!”

You squealed as you watched yourself squirt all over him. He must have been magic because you thought you saw his hand as it moved even faster between your legs.

“Ahhh. Yes. Yea ha ha yesss! Give me that shit.”

You were sobbing now as Ransom let you go, climbing down your body to put his mouth on you.

You jumped as he licked and sucked your slopping wet slit and smiled at your bliss. You were alternating between tears and laughter as you saw his delighted face.

You tugged his hair gently as he playfully kissed your sodden, pulsing pussy and smiled up at you.

“There now. Don’t you feel relaxed?”

You laughed at your husband.

“I hate you Ransom.”

Random placed another kiss on your pussy as he climbed back up beside you.

“I love you too, Minx.”

You were boneless, floating in space as you looked at your tousle-haired rake of a spouse. You ascertained that he was fully naked and still hard against your thigh even though you were floaty and your eyes were half closed.

“There’s just one more thing Ran...”

“What’s that Minx?”

Ransom's eyes were dark as you pulled him to you. He couldn’t resist slotting himself between your thighs as he stared at your fucked-out face.He leaned down and gave a taste of his you-flavored lips as he slid his thick hard cock inside you and moaned.

“Fuck me back to sleep Ran. Need more rest.”

Ransom rocked deep inside you, sucking and marking up your neck as his hand slid down your body. You relished his girth and the feel of every bump and ridge of him as he started stroking inside you, making your insides light up like the early morning sky.

“Whatever you need, Minx…but you’ve got to give me one more. Around my cock, like the good little girl you are…”

——

If you like it and you know it, hit reblog! 👏🏽👏🏽

#Ransom and Minx #Ransom #Ransom Drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x black!reader #ransom drysdale x minx #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale imagine #chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for watching a movie as a family without including my dad? Writing it out, I think I know the answer, but this has still been bugging me.

Around Thanksgiving I (30s) visited home. It was also a trip to see for my mom (late 60s) for her birthday, so I was there for a few days longer than a Thanksgiving trip would normally account for. My brother (30s) and his wife (30s) visited for her birthday too. My dad (early 70s) was there as well. They've been married over 30 years. Originally I'd planned to take everybody out to see a movie as a birthday present for my mom...but it turned out there was literally nothing at the theater that my mom was interested in at all. The town is pretty small, and the options were limited. So instead, we started out with a nice dinner, and family board game run-through of a trivia game we all thought we'd have some fun with. My mom ended up winning, which is rare and was not deliberate, and it wrapped the game up way faster than we'd anticipated.

My dad immediately went back into the living room after the game ended, openly a little annoyed that mom had won a trivia game based on something he considers himself the family expert in. He watches old reruns of the show he's seen a million times on a loop every day, and it can be pulling teeth to get him to do anything else. It was just a fluke, but something the rest of us considered a pleasant surprise since none of us had expected she'd win. But he was annoyed. Given that it was still early, Mom suggested we find a movie to watch online, so we could all wind down before bed with something the whole family could enjoy.

Dad said no. Now this feels like important context: I...have a lot of problems with my dad. I love him, but he can be extremely emotionally immature. Downright verbally abusive at times. And very petty. I'm in therapy in no small part due to some of the insecurities he instilled in me over the years. I've worked hard to set basic boundaries with him. He also has multiple medical issues, and I'm pretty sure he has untreated depression and other mental health problems he refuses to acknowledge that contribute to him flying off the handle at a moment's notice. That, combined with the fact that my mom will 100% never, ever leave him, because she was raised in a very specific mindset that she's never been fully able to shake...means my brother and I usually have to grit our teeth when he starts ranting/yelling/complaining during a visit, or we'd just end up ruining the day for our mom. She's done so much for us, and we just wanted her to have a good visit. So, that's what I did for most of the trip. I breathed deep when my dad openly mocked my stutter, and refused to get in a fight about it. I stopped myself from getting visibly upset when he tried to feed my cat table scraps even when I told him the cat needs a special diet. On other days I tried to watch his old shows with him, and ignored the sexist comments he'd make about the female leads, all for the sake of keeping the peace.

But, it was Mom's birthday. And she wanted to watch a movie.

And Dad said no.

He refused to give up his marathon of old westerns from 60 years ago to watch a new movie with his family on the big tv in the living room.

My mom seemed disappointed, so I suggested we watch one on my laptop in the kitchen instead. Without my dad, if he really wanted to watch his show instead. She agreed, and my brother, his wife, my mom and I filed into the kitchen, sat in less-than-comfy chairs, and watched a fantasy heist film that I'd thought they would all enjoy. And they did. My brother was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the movie (I'd already vouched for it being good, none of the others had seen it previously) His wife kept making notes for her dnd campaign. My mom found it hilarious, and liked that some actors from another show she liked were in it.

My dad stayed in the living room, watching his marathon.

Partway through the movie, he came in and asked us what we were watching. We told him, and he passed through the kitchen for something he needed, then said that we were being too loud. More context: the kitchen is right next to the living room, but my dad turns the tv up so loud in there it can get physically painful to be in the room with him. He refuses to get hearing aides, and only recently relented on subtitles. He also has a habit of screaming at anyone who tries to talk for a long time when his shows are on and they're in earshot, even if they're in a different room. We thought he couldn't hear it over his tv, and so when he said something we said sorry and that we'd try to keep it down, but we could already barely hear it through the laptop speakers. We already had subtitles turned on to make sure we didn't miss anything. When we told him that, he got even more annoyed. He asked how we'd like it if he turned the tv up so loud we couldn't understand anything, then proceeded to go into the living room and do just that, just as I was trying to figure out how much more we could lower the volume without losing our whole experience. We called in that we were already turning it down, and he finally turned his volume back down as well. We finished our movie, turning the volume down during action scenes and up during speaking scenes so we could actually hear the dialog. We enjoyed the rest of the film, and then people started getting ready for bed, and my mom went to check on my dad. She told me a few minutes later that he was hurt that we'd watched the movie without him. That he felt left out. I told her that he'd had multiple opportunities to join us, and that is was his choice not to watch with us. And honestly, the fact that he wouldn't give up the real tv for a couple hours so she could have a birthday movie was really upsetting to me.

She still seemed to feel bad that he was left out, and I'm a little worried that he might've sulked for days afterwards, leaving my mom in an even more stressful environment after I left. Am I the asshole for insisting my mom get to watch a movie on her birthday? And would I be the asshole if I told my dad off for what I consider to be extremely selfish behavior?

Also before anyone asks, no, I'm not cutting him off. It's literally impossible to do that without pretty much cutting off my mom as well, and she absolutely doesn't deserve that. And yes, I've offered up my apartment as a place she can stay if she ever needs to. Repeatedly. She hasn't taken me up on it yet.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[only-angel-28]

1999, part four - final part!

oh my gosh. final part and what a surprise, she's a long one again💀💀ive loved writing this silly little series so so much and i love all of you very very much🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽please give me requests on what to write next bc my mind is completely blank rn, all i can think of is the cold war and bolsheviks from my history revison and i dont think they would make v good fics🤡🤡

lmk what you think of this part and your fav moments, enjoy!!

warnings: tiny angst, mostly fluff, swearing

1999, part one

1999, part two

1999, part three

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

conrad’s pov

Since Y/n is unable to hold a phone herself, I'm tasked with a lot, but I didn't fully realize the worry of her family until she had me working through each task with her.

No wonder she’s overwhelmed. The number of texts from Laurel, Mom, Belly, Jere and Steven she has to sift through in a given hour would drive anyone insane.

Or maybe I'm just going crazy by sitting this close to her. The smell of her coconut soap is permanently ingrained into my memory as she sits flush against me, pointing at different texts with her uninjured hand.

I can tell her nerves grow stronger as the Uber near the hospital.

Her knees bounce up and down as she dictates message after message I need to send, confusing me more and more with every word.

The work doesn't stop there. After we check in, a nurse hands us a clipboard filled with pages of information that need to be filled out. Y/n stares at it like it might catch on fire at any moment.

"Here." I pass it to her.

Her eyes shift toward the exit. "Will you help me please? I can't write like this." Her voice drops to a barely audible whisper.

"Okay. Tell me your answers and I'll write them down."

Her throat bobs as she scans the first line. It takes her far longer than necessary to read the first question.

"Do you mind reading the questions aloud for me? I'm too stressed to concentrate right now." Her overcompensating smile irritates me.

"Are you sure? Some of the questions are probably personal."

Don't be a dick. Just do what she says.

"I don't care.”

The rigid way she sits in her chair says the complete opposite.

She seems to be one minute away from breaking down, so I concede. I sigh as I grab the pen and get started on the first question. The paperwork doesn't take us as long as I anticipated, so Y/n and I sit together in silence. She stares at the exit longingly.

The way her eyes dart around the room as she gnaws on her bottom lip makes me feel merciful enough to save her from the anxiety eating her up inside.

“If it's any consolation, I hate hospitals too."

Her head swings toward the direction of my voice.

"Yeah?"

I nod. "Haven't been to one since…"

"I know." she says as she sees my chest heaves as I remember the millions of times we’ve been here before.

I keep my eyes focused on the soundless television playing in one corner.

Her good hand clasps onto mine and gives it a squeeze. I'm grateful she understands me enough not to ask any other questions. The idea of offering another raw part of myself feels like a betrayal of the years I've spent carefully developing a certain kind of persona.

"I hate them too." Her voice cracks.

"Why?"

She stares down at her swollen hand. “My dad…” She pauses, and I give her hand a reassuring squeeze like she gave me. "Let's just say mom ended up in the ER a couple of times for being clumsy."

I take a deep breath to stave off the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "And did you have issues with being clumsy?" If she says yes, I swear to God two men will end up floating in the Chicago River tonight.

She shakes her head rather aggressively. "No. No." My rapid heart rate can be heard through my ears. "If you were, you can tell me." While I can't promise I won't do anything about it, I can promise to make him hurt. A lot. With sulfuric acid or something, those pre-med studies are starting to come in handy now.

The overwhelming sense of protectiveness hits me hard, and I don't shy away from it. There is nothing I hate more than men who use their fists against innocent women and children.

"It never got to that point. Suze made sure of it." she says with a small smile.

"How?"

"She caught onto the signs and interfered before things got bad. Used her savings from my grandpa's life insurance policy to help Mom get a divorce and start a new life." A tear slips down her face, and I can't stand the sight of it.

I brush it away with the pad of my thumb, but the damp trail still lingers. A driving force inside of me wants to erase the sad look on her face. "Did her plan also happen to include a jug of sulfuric acid?"

She forces out a laugh. "I think concrete shoes were more in style back then."

I fake shudder. "Remind me to never make mom angry again."

"Forget her, you'd have to deal with me." She holds up her injured hand like a war trophy.

"I'm absolutely terrified."

"Miss Y/n?" a nurse calls out.

Y/n doesn't move at the sound of her name.

"That's you." I place my hand on her thigh and give it a squeeze.

She sucks in a deep breath as she stares down at my hand.

Her chair nearly tumbles behind her as she bolts out of the seat, throwing her one good hand up in the air. "I'm here!"

The nurse leads us through the emergency room bay.

Individual beds line the wall, each area divided by a paper curtain.

The empty bed meant for Y/n is unacceptable. Between the person retching behind one partition and the individual on the other side hacking up their lung, I refuse to let her be seen here.

"I'd like my…my friend, to be taken care of in a private suite," I speak up. I know I sound snotty right now but honestly, I’ll be damned if I let her already horrible hospital experience get any worse.

The nurse grimaces as her gaze licks across my body. "This is a hospital. Not the Ritz. Take a seat and wait for the doctor like everyone else."

Y/n hops on the bed without any complaint, and I'm tempted to grab her and go elsewhere. The nurse doesn't seem the least bit bothered by all the noise happening around us as she checks Y/n’s vitals and asks some routine questions.

Y/n answers each one while chewing her bottom lip raw. This atmosphere couldn't put anyone at ease, least of all her.

The nurse hangs the clipboard at the foot of the bed, and I decide to try again.

"I'll pay whatever it takes to have her seen somewhere quieter. Money is no object."

The nurse only replies by shutting the paper curtain in my face.

Y/n laughs while I stare at the curtain, dumbfounded to be treated like this.

"You find this funny?"

She nods, her eyes alight for the first time all night. "Did you see her face when you said money is no object? I think if she didn't put the clipboard away, she would have slapped your face with it."

"It's not my fault she isn't accustomed to how things are done in the real world."

"Wake up baby. You're living in the real world." She waves around our room.

"It's terrifying." I say, looking away so she couldn’t see the blush that appeared on my face at the nickname.

"Come here. I'II make it better." Y/n pats the bed.

Doubtful, but I'm a glutton for giving her what she wants lately. Paper crinkles as I sit next to her. I take up most of the bed, giving her little room to get away from me. My thigh brushes against hers. She tries to scoot away, but there isn't enough space.

“Isn’t this cozy?" she quips.

I give her a small smile before she asks, “Hey! Let me see your tattoo.”

God I’d forgotten all about them. I move the collar of my shirt to show the two small ivy leaves we’d gotten. She gasps and gently touches my skin, “Oh my gosh it’s so pretty Connie.” she stares at it for a moment before I ask to see hers.

She lifts up her shirt on the side, exposing her ribcage and the two matching leaves.

“I can’t believe you agreed to get a Taylor Swift referenced tattoo with me Con.” she says as I admire the tattoo for a bit.

I smile until saying, “Hey I might be quiet and mopey but at least I have good taste in music.”

She softly smiles at me before eyeing the IV bag with horror before checking out the exit.

"What’s wrong?”

She leans closer to me and whispers, "Is now a bad time to admit I pass out whenever someone tries to stick a needle in me?"

My lips lift at the corners. I don't know why I find the idea hilarious, given her ability to watch eight consecutive hours of true crime documentaries without so much as flinching.

"You're afraid of needles?"

She sputters. "No. I'm not afraid. It just happens to be a bodily reaction I can't control."

“That's good then because the nurse needs to set you up with that IV when she comes back."

“No! Don't tell me that! I thought she was one of the good ones.”

I nod, pressing my lips together to prevent myself from laughing.

"She lied to me!" She bolts from the seat and would have tripped over her own heels if I didn't reach out and catch her.

*Careful." I place her back on the bed and decide to stand guard in case she gets any ideas to flee the scene.

Her eyes fit from me to the gap between two curtains, as if she is thinking how she can get past me.

"I'm joking.”

She scans my face for the truth before she slaps my shoulder with her good hand. "Asshole! I believed you!"

Laughter explodes out of me like a bomb, stunning her.

“Did you just laugh?”

"No."

“Yes." Someone calls out from the other side of the curtain.

“Now, do you mind shutting up? Some of us are trying to get some sleep over here after having our stomach pumped."

Fuck this place and the people in here. "We're leaving."

"Not so fast. You can't leave before I check you out." The doctor strolls in and points at the bed with his clipboard.

Y/n remains tight-lipped as the doctor checks her chart. He asks her some questions about how she got hurt, all while staring me up and down like I'm the person she was trying to injure. She is taken away for a few scans, and my breathing doesn't return to normal until the nurse brings her back.

That should be my first sign that things are getting out of hand on my end. I'm inching closer to an emotional minefield without any kind of map, only one wrong step away from exploding.

The doctor checks the scans. "It looks like you have a boxer's fracture."

Her face brightens. "That sounds badass."

I glare at her. "Calm down, Muhammad Ali. I wouldn't count today as a victory by any means."

The doctor's eyes lighten. "Next time, avoid any initial contact on the fourth and fifth knuckles."

"Please don't encourage her."

The doctor shakes his head with a laugh before giving Y/n a detailed set of instructions regarding the healing time. I'm skeptical about the whole visit and, given the setting, doubtful about the level of care. I'll be damned if Y/n sustains permanent injuries because of Dean. My chest tightens at the idea.

“Great Thanks, Doc!" She hops off the bed, but I hold my arm out, stopping her

"I’d like a second opinion." The command bursts out of me without any rhyme or reason. Deep down, I know a boxer's fracture isn't the worst thing that could have happened. But things aren't right in my head where Y/n is concerned. At least not anymore.

Both of the doctor's eyebrows arch. "For a small fracture?"

"Don't mind him. He tends to be a bit overbearing." She shoots me a look as if I'm the crazy one out of the two of us.

"Okay..." the doctor says.

Maybe I am losing it because why else would I care?

You hate it when she cries.

You wouldn't mind murdering someone who hurt her.

You took her to the hospital even though you despise them with every fibre of your being.

The signs all point to one thing: our situation is quickly crumbling, and I'm the only one to blame.

Y/n interrupts my thoughts. "I'll be sure to wear the brace for a few weeks and avoid any kind of activities that could aggravate the injury."

"Perfect. And don't forget to schedule a follow-up visit with your physician. "The doctor gives me one last look before handing Y/n the discharge paperwork. "Nice meeting you."

"Will you help me with this?" She holds out the clipboard with her left hand as the doctor leaves.

I grab it from her and fill it out.

She checks the time on her phone. "Well, at least that didn't take as long as I thought it would. I'm sure you're dying to get back home."

That's the scary thing. I didn't think about anything or anyone once during our entire time here because making sure she was taken care of was my only concern. I've spent the past seventeen years of my life thinking solely about my future, and all it took was one girl to make me completely forget about my responsibilities for a few hours.

As if that doesn't scare me enough, it only takes one glance at her makeshift brace to make my blood burn hot under my skin. I know exactly why her injury angers me more than anything else.

It's the same reason I feel the urge to push Jere away from her whenever he gets too close or the way I unexplainably need to see her whenever she is out of my sight for longer than a few hours.

You’re in love with her.

Fuck.

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y/n’s pov

We’re in an Uber on the way home, sitting in comfortable silence until Conrad breaks it.

“Why’d you get with Dean anyway?” My stomach doubles over.

Comfortable silence is so overrated.

I sigh. I’ve been dreading this question for ages now.

“I don’t know.” I answer vaguely.

Conrad gives me a puzzled look, “What do you mean you don't know? You must’ve had a reason.”

His restlessness gets me more agitated.

“I don’t know Conrad. I don’t know why I got with him, I don’t know why I was waiting on you for so long either.” I look out the window as the car stops in front of the house.

“What? What do you mean?” he says as I get out the car and speed up to the front door, taking the keys out of my pocket and refusing to carry on with this conversation anymore.

Conrad keeps yelling after me as he follows me upstairs to my room, both of us trying to ignore everyone else who joined Conrad and are trying to ask their own questions.

I slam my door shut and collapse on my bed hearing Conrad trying to calm everyone down and telling them everything that's happened until he asks them all to give me some space for now.

I cry in the silence as I hear everyone leaving from outside the door until it opens.

“Hey.”

Steven. Thank God.

“Steve…” I say sniffling.

He looks at me with a sad smile before sitting on the bed with me and taking me in his arms.

“Con told us everything,” he says after a few minutes of holding me, “did you really get a boxer's fracture?”

I laugh in tears before showing him my hand and saying, “You should see the other guy.”

Steven and I laugh together before going back to the silence as he hugs me.

“He really cares about you, you know.”

“No he doesn’t. He hates me. I yelled at him and now I’m crying here on my bed like an idiot.”

“Did he say anything to you?” Steven looks down at me.

I shake my head before saying, “He asked why I got with Dean.”

“Oh. That’s not too bad.”

“No it’s not.”

“Then why are you so upset?”

“Because I’ve been waiting for Conrad for so long and I’m just sick and tired of always being there to help him get over his breakups when he’d be so much better off with me. I know I sound selfish and none of my reasons are justified but I just thought that after everything we’ve been through together, he’d maybe like me just a little bit.”

Steven hugs me again and softly says, “He does.”

After that almost everyone but Conrad came in to check up on me and make sure I was okay, making me feel even more guilty about being all emotional like this. It’s not until Susannah’s holding me and whispering sweet nothings that my eyes start to feel heavy.

I think I fell asleep after that, I don’t remember much except waking up to the sun shining its very unwelcome face in my eyes.

I step out of my room after freshening up and I’m about to make my way to the kitchen for food until I’m stopped by something in the hallway.

Or should I say someone.

“Conrad,” I bend down and stroke his hair out of his face, “Conrad wake up.” I say gently.

He stirs for a minute before sitting up and taking my hands in his.

“Have you been out here all night?” I ask.

“Yes.” he says in a raspy voice.

God that voice would make my knees give out if I wasn’t already on the floor with him.

“Why?”

“I need to talk to you.”

I sigh before he interrupts me, “Listen, I heard everything you said to Steven last night and I know I shouldn’t have and I was eavesdropping but I’m sorry it was by accident. And I know I don’t deserve any more of your time…I’ve already wasted a lot of it but just hear me out for ten minutes.”

“No.” I try to get out of his grasp.

“Stop fighting and give me ten minutes.”

“No way.”

“Nine then.”

“Five.”

“Eight and a half.”

“Six.”

“Seven.”

I pause, knowing that he won’t let me go anywhere before I hear him out.

“You don’t deserve seven seconds, let alone seven minutes of my time.”

“How about seven words then?”

I laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I am falling in love with you.”

I blink up at him. Either I am still sleeping or I must have not heard him correctly because there is no way Conrad Fisher just admitted that he is falling in love with me.

Absolutely no fucking way.

Right?

I squeeze my eyes shut as if that can erase the words from my memory.

"You're joking.

"I'm not."

"This is just another part of your game." I try to push him away, but he doesn't budge.

"It stopped being a game for me a long time ago."

"You're lying."

His brows pull together. "Ask me why I hate when people touch my bookshelf."

"Are you serious right now? What does that have to do with any of this?" I think back to his bookshelf he won’t let any of the others go near but loves to let me organise and re-organise each year.

"Because I did it for you."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I read somewhere online that organising objects like books and things is good for people with anxiety, because then they can feel in control of something and know exactly what to expect especially if things are the same as they've predicted all the time. You love reading too, so I changed it. Bought all the books you like to read so that you’d stay and read with me more often. I forced everyone else out of my room and especially away from that bookshelf. All because I wanted to help you."

Emotions clog my throat, preventing my ability to reply.

What can I possibly say that could compare to that?

Conrad doesn't give me an option as he continues. "Want to know why I kept this plant you got me?" he says pointing to the small green cactus with “Don’t be a prick” written on the pot that we could see looking into his room from the hallway.

I nod.

"Because it was the first time someone got me a present that made me laugh."

If hearts could melt into puddles, mine would be liquified right about now.

I take a deep breath.

Remember what he did.

“Con that doesn't change anything you still ignored me for a whole year. Every time I tried to call you or text you, you’d just leave me on read or decline, and now you’re telling me you love me? Who does that?"

"Someone who doesn't understand the first thing about loving someone, but is willing to try if you give me a chance."

"You want me to give you a chance after everything? Do you think I'm stupid?"

He winces, and a bit of my anger fades away at his vulnerability.

"Intelligence has nothing to do with this."

"Easy for you to say when you're not the one who feels like a fool."

"Really? Because based on your reaction today, I'm feeling pretty damn foolish for ever admitting that I'm falling in love with you." He gets up off the floor, leaving me feeling chilled to the bone.

"Con..." I reach out, but he takes a step back.

My eyes sting from his rejection. It hurts.

“I’m not asking you to love me back. I don't expect that and I'm not sure if I ever will because I'm the furthest thing for lovable. I'm selfish, and rude, and don't know the first thing about being in a proper relationship with someone. But that doesn't mean I’m not willing to try for you if you let me."

How am I supposed to be angry at him when he thinks he is unlovable?

A pain rips through my chest at the thought of him talking about himself this way.

I get up off the floor and walk straight into his chest. His arms quickly wrap themselves around my waist, holding me even tighter.

"Just because you make selfish choices doesn't mean you're a selfish person. At least not completely."

This boy had been there for Belly, Steven, me and Jere for years without any kind of payback, especially when Susannah was going through her cancer and despite feeling an immense amount of pain himself, he shoved all his emotions aside so that he could be there for us. For me. If that isn't a selfless sacrifice, I don't know what is.

"Your logic is half-baked at best."

"So is yours, seeing as you called yourself unlovable."

His body tenses. "I'm stating facts."

"I don't know what bullshit your father told you over the years, but it's not true. Your brother loves you."

"He’s obligated to."

"No one is obligated to love someone else. Blood or not."

He takes a deep breath. "You're right."

I smile up at him. "I could get used to hearing those words."

He reaches up and cups my cheek. "Give me a chance and I'll tell you them every single day."

I sigh and look away. "I don't know.”

"Tell me what's stopping you."

"You don't do relationships."

“Good thing our feelings lead us here rather than our minds, and mine are willing to try then."

I avoid his penetrating gaze. "What if my feelings are telling me to run?”

“It's cute you think you can outrun me, but I'll give you a head start just to make things interesting." he smiles down at me.

"Do you always have an answer for everything?"

"Not for the one that matters most." The way he looks at me stirs up something deep inside of me.

Longing. I want to give him a chance, regardless of the potential fallout.

You might get hurt.

I might, but I might miss out on something special because I’m too afraid of the what ifs. I'm done being that person. Even if it means getting hurt, I'd rather try and fail than never try at all.

I stand on the tips of my toes and press my lips against his.

He holds me tight against his chest, as if he is afraid of letting me go.

I pull away, only to clasp onto his chin. "This could be a disaster, but I'm willing to try."

He shuts me up by pushing his lips against mine, sealing our new deal. The way he kisses me is different than any time before. He cups my face with the palms of his hands as his lips mold against mine, teasing me until I feel dizzy. His thumb brushes across my cheek back and forth, and heat rushes down my spine straight to my belly. He makes me feel cherished. Protected.

Loved in a way that makes me never want to come back down to reality.

I could spend forever being kissed like this and still feel like it isn't enough. While Conrad might not be the best with words, his kiss says it all.

He is falling in love with me. And I’m falling in love with him. No translation necessary.

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ahh i cant believe its finished omg😔💔...

anyways, onto the next one😍🙏

again please lmk what you think of this and please give me requests on what to do next!!

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #fanfic #fics #tsitp #belly conklin #jeremiah fisher #steven conklin #the summer i turned pretty #1999 #conrad x reader fluff #conrad x y/n angst #conrad x y/n fluff #conrad x reader #conrad x y/n

[luminous-letters]

Can you write the dorm leaders realizing they find mc attractive?

i'm so sorry. first, for answering late. and second, for not being able to include riddle and vil. (it actually took me a lot more time to write those two, but it always end up horribly. so i had to scrap them. that was also part of the reason why i was working on this for so long.)

but please let me know if it isn't to your liking anon 😭

At what point in a relationship does one party find the other attractive? It could be as quick as a heartbeat, a single glance. It could be longer than a month, or long enough to watch the whites of winter thaw into the greens of spring.

What does being attractive mean to them? A face? A body? A surface-level understanding? Or gravitation to what lies deeper than bone, an understanding that pierced through the soul.

Five months.

A pretty face... Leona's seen many across the years. In all shapes, sizes, colors or form, each of them were as magnificent and lustrous as gemstones. But few could make a mark as lasting as yourself.

He should've known it when an herbivore like you came waltzing into his territory. He should've known it the moment you made a lion's den your home. He should've known sooner that you were just so damn...you.

You had metaphorical balls of steel, just prancing like some doe in a pit full of predators. All while staring them down too.

You were annoying, unrelenting and so painfully stupid that it almost made him cry. Almost.

It all started with chanced meetings made more frequent. Then he'd notice more details about you than before.

Your head, your lips, your fingers... Then he'd start smelling things that were too hidden to be perceived. Monday... A faint scent of lavender. Tuesday— lilacs. Wednesday— citrus...?

He began to anticipate it more and more. Until a whole five months passed, then he was sure.

"This may come to you as a surprise...but, I like you."

Three months.

Azul had long been jealous of beauty. Bodies that folk adore, a tail that could swim the fastest, and a face that could make the crowds swoon and fall at their feet.

And he's seen plenty of those, more than he could count. He was an avid collector, of trinkets and admirable qualities alike. He wanted them all. He deserved them all.

And he could've had it all if it weren't for you meddling kids. You foolhardy buffoons that, by chance, managed to stop his journey to omnipotence!

But enough of that, for he was now a changed man.

Now that he thought about it, you weren't as dense as your peers. You needed a decently sharp mind to be able to make sense of his plans, much more to be able to stop it.

What a fine investment that would be. And connections to powerful people as well? My, my, this day just keeps getting better and better.

But when he would expect a witty response, you'd answer with points that barely made sense. And when he was sure you'd elicit some unprompted stupidity, you'd quip with the most sound and foolproof ideas he's ever heard. How vexing. How vexing, indeed.

He wants a bit more information... Yes just that. But the chances of it spiraling into something more... It completely slipped his mind.

"I have an offer you possibly cannot refuse."

Thirty seconds.

Kalim was an easy-going soul, carefree and sheltered since the day he was born into this world. So of course it was easy for him to fall for someone.

It was no surprise that he gets so attracted so easily. Be it an object, a pet, or another person, Kalim was almost immediately gushing and cooing the moment he decided that, 'Yes! This is the one!'

That thirty seconds, from start to finish, was utterly beautiful. He felt like the entire cosmos exploded inside him. Suddenly, he felt vitality surge through his veins, he felt like he wanted to scream to the world.

The jewels, the golds and silvers, the relics worth millions that lay in his treasury were but grains in comparison to you. He wanted to show you the world, the beauty of it.

He wanted to show you the oranges of the sunset skies, the glittering azure of the oases and the caramel dunes of sands that stretched as far as the eye could see.

"I want to dance forever, sing and laugh forever. And I think it would be a lot better if we do it together."

Two years.

Idia doesn't care about looks— or anything, in general. As long as he's got good internet and Ortho around, there's nothing he should worry about.

Love... How complex it was. It was easier to understand the gibberish codes of machine than emotion— emotion which was spontaneous and ever-changing.

He doesn't need a player two.

He was perfectly fine on his own. He's been doing it for the past years, so what's the difference? 99.99% he would do better solo-ing everything, ±.01 margin of error.

He didn't expect a blindingly bright, relentless, peppy, annoying ball of you to be that tiny margin of error.

"Go outside."

"No."

Surprisingly, you were good at most games he's played. But still a rookie, he's gotta work on that.

He would still curse — and blush — at that fateful Saturday afternoon. The day you two snuck out for a comic convention turned movie night turned boardwalk fair date.

It kept on happening and happening, more time with you. It became a constant that he looked forward to, an external push that he welcomed.

"So... About that 'no player two' thing I said a while back... I, uh... I kinda want to take that back."

Still.

You held a pretty face. He knew it the moment the panicked look on your face greeted his own questioning looks. It was toleration, that he was sure of. Toleration of another soul that dared sully the building that he visited nightly.

But it grew and grew through the months. After the winter, the day of the VDC, through the frightful night of Halloween, after you were taken away and left the ruins of a home. And until your much-awaited return.

He was waiting. He pondered and pondered, his thoughts were laced with doubt and distrust— in you and in himself. As longing of affection as he may be, he wasn't one to let himself slip so easily.

A year had elapsed, since his first encounter to Ramshackle's newest resident. A year of flurried thoughts and a hectic juggle between his dorm, his kingdom and you.

He still wanted to know more about you. There's much yet to be learned, viewpoints that he's yet to know.

"Is it unusual that I still could not make a sound decision? I worry that it may be telling of poor leadership."

"No, no. It's alright, I'm willing to wait for your decision."

"...Thank you."

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #gn!mc #gender neutral reader #twst x reader #twst fanfic #twst fanfiction #twst oneshot #twst fluff #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #writing #my writing #answered ask

[twopoppies]

Hi! I sent you a message about this a few days ago but it might have gotten lost in the million others I’m sure you’re getting. I work in London PR and I’ve been hearing about this Taylor thing for the past couple weeks. My take, based on what I heard and my understanding of Harry’s situation, is that yes, this is going to be a stunt, but a short lived one and hopefully a mild one too. As you said, H’s team learned their lesson when it comes to picking who to have him stunt with - Taylor’s a woman of color, she’s not older than him and seems to have a flourishing career, as opposed to someone else we used to know. I will say that I’ve heard from several people that behind the scenes she’s actually quite hard to work with, is not nearly as kind as she comes off and has a lot of insecurities, so I’m scared to see what this kind of attention could do to someone that struggles with that kind of stuff.

That being said, my understanding is that this stunt will cover two main areas:

- get Harry one last round of GP publicity before he dips out for a bit (which he will). If you think about it, his tour outside of fandom and his target audience feels very stale and kind of old news, and instead of just drifting into “oblivion” for a few months they want him to go out with some kind of excitement, one last tidbit of gossip to keep people wanting more and potentially put his name in front of the GP for a bit longer.

- Loewe. My understanding is that H’s contract with them will end around the end of tour, when he will effectively stop wearing their costumes on stage (if you pay attention, he hasn’t worn any Gucci stuff in his day to day life basically since Alessandro left). He has, however, been sporting several key Loewe pieces and the idea is that he probably will announce a partnership with them at some point shortly after the end of tour. As you know, Taylor is also a Loewe ambassador. Maybe they shot a campaign together, maybe they will? It certainly serves the brand well to have their names paired up and on everyone’s lips.

I’ll add one thing - the end of July/early august timeline also coincides with the beginning of Taylor’s theater run in London, which will go until October. I don’t anticipate this going that long but a round of insane publicity around the beginning of previews will certainly not hurt ticket sales.

Hi sweetheart. I actually never saw your earlier anon so… Maybe it got lost. Sorry.

Everything you mention makes a lot of sense. And I hope you’re right that it’s short term and merely for the time being.

#stunts #hussell #Loewe #please take this with a grain of salt

[ryuichirou]

What are your Hc's on Rook and Vil's First time? Or how their relationship changed when Rook Transferred?

We got this ask about two weeks ago after this comic, and I’m probably going to contradict myself once again, because with RookVil (…and every other ship of ours honestly) there is a million of “but what if their first time went like this? Or like this? Or like this?”, so consider this post just one of many many possible scenarios. I really like it when these two get passionate about each other, and I’m sure this is nothing new for you lol

Thank you for your question, and sorry for the wait! You might have noticed already, but we did a big hc post about everyone’s (possible) first times, so you can read that one too, if you want.

The majority of these ended up being about their first time, but I also mentioned how their relationship changed (…or didn’t change) after Rook’s transfer. A little bit.

Alright, without further ado.

Vil seems like someone who is just naturally confident and experienced in every field, but he was actually very careful about his first time and not jumping into things that he can’t handle…  or at least this is what Rook thought; otherwise he would have jumped Vil after one of their very first meetings. Because he desired Vil from the very beginning, before Vil even considered him worthy of his attention. So Rook actually had a lot of moments when he had to stop himself, like a very patient hunter who hasn’t quite tamed the wild animal yet (wait why would a hunter tame- nvm)

The thing is, although Vil really is very careful and wanted his first time to happen with someone he really likes, the tension between him and Rook got so strong so quickly that Vil almost became the impatient one. He was conflicted, because his mind told him that he should wait a little longer, but his body was driving him crazy. Or it was Rook who was driving his body crazy… anyways, their makeout sessions became too intense and started to involve a lot of touching and even some restless humping. Vil is embarrassed of the way they acted back then to this day.

There are a lot of scenarios, but for some reason I almost always think that it happened in Vil’s room. Which isn’t the most private place, because Vil didn’t have his own room back then. Because of that they also couldn’t take their sweet time with that. Rook was saying something about the queen deserving the best treatment and the longest foreplay, but the queen was nervously staring at the door and telling Rook to hurry. But when the intercourse itself finally happened, Vil couldn’t think about anything anymore, so all his nervousness went away~

Rook also couldn’t enter Vil fully during their first time, obviously. He ended up being bigger than Vil anticipated, even though Vil tried to prepare himself for anything: he did see Rook’s bulge a couple of times and knew it would be big, but. Another thing to get better at and work on in the future~

A couple of very specific things that Rook remembers from their first time: the way Vil looked at him when he undressed, the way Vil grabbed his dick to hurry him up, way Vil whimpered when Rook entered and then bit him.

A couple of very specific things that Vil remembers from their first time: the way Rook’s fingers felt on his skin (too rough…), the way he couldn’t predict where Rook would kiss him next, the way Rook lay on top of him and made him realise just how heavy he is.

Vil really surprised Rook, because he didn’t expect him to be this eager. He really thought that Vil would be more uncertain… and this is probably what enabled Rook to instantly forget about his initial plan to treat Vil like a pillow princess, so Rook’s wild horny nature (something that he meant  to reveal a bit later) was set free and could never be contained again lol But it’s not entirely Vil’s fault – Rook seriously underestimated his own hunger. He was way too intense for the first time and left a lot of marks all over Vil’s body.

…but not nearly enough to keep himself  fed, so after that they started to have sex and making out pretty much all the time. One would think that finally banging each other would pacify them a little… But even though Vil was initially hesitant about Rook joining Pomefiore, it made it easier for them to sneak away to have a quickie a couple of times per day. Like I already said, Vil is very very embarrassed of this period and is very happy that the majority of people that are currently in Pomefiore didn’t get to witness it, and those who did wouldn’t dare to mention it. Rook isn’t embarrassed of anything, he’d do it again if Vil let him~

Despite all that, they tried their best (well, Vil did) to keep their romance private, but it was still painfully obvious for everyone that they are enjoying their honeymoon phase, and it became even more obvious when Rook switched dorms. Like. Everyone knew why he did it, but Vil still spent some time trying to convince people that it wasn’t the case.

#replies #headcanons #rookvil

[coffeeandbatboys]

Congrats love! That's amazing.

Okay how about 7, Mayday, and 🥰

Merci buckets.

Love oo

Prompt: Writing little notes on post-its and leaving them in random places to read.

This one turned angsty but I promised that all of these would have a happy ending so obvs had to fix it.

Warnings: presumed death. Angst. ending.

Fate (Mayday x Reader)

The morning before Mayday shipped out was spent on bitter tears and desperate kisses. He promised that when the war was over he'd make up for all of the time you lost.

It had been hard, adjusting to the lack of company.

You'd periodically find a love note scribbled on colorful flimsi somewhere in your speeder or around the apartment. They brought you more joy than he'd ever know.

He had left you with no doubt about his love, and anticipating the next time you'd see him.

But weeks turned into months.

Months turned into a year.

The republic fell, replaced by an even more corrupt empire. A lieutenant had told you that most of the troopers on Barton IV were killed in action.

So you rebelled. For four months you did everything that the Empire stood against, and they made sure you were punished for every last insignificant crime.

They were banishing you to one of the infamous ‘hellhole planets’

You were dropped miles from the base with half a ration bar and a torn up coat. Trekking through the snow and the ice, you thought that maybe just dying was a good idea. You had fallen too many times to count, and it was becoming hard to get back up when you felt like your muscles were being stabbed by a million icicles. But a voice called to you. Someone across the frozen ground was running in your direction.

Standing on shaky legs you raised a hand to your eyes to get a better look at who it was.

You recognized clone armor and began to trudge through the snow once more.

When the trooper reached you, you had fallen again. He dropped to his knees and removed his bucket. You looked into his eyes and hope swelled in your chest.

He kissed you with the same passion as the last ones you’d shared all that time ago.

“M..mm..may..ay..d..d..ay?” You gasped through chattering teeth, blinking through the snow on your lashes. His forehead rested against yours.

“It’s me, Mesh’la,” his voice broke. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

He held you in his arms and helped you all the way back to the base.

You cried and held onto him for hours, praying to whoever that it wasn’t a dream. He was so different from the last time you’d seen him, but he was still your Mayday.

“I read your notes,” you hiccuped, tears freezing on your cheeks. “The imperials told me that you were dead…”

He tightened his grip on you and his beard tickled your neck. “No, no, cyare. I’m right here. I’m okay. Maker, I’m so glad you’re alive.”

You swallowed thickly. “Me too.”

You gave him the best kiss you could with how cold it was. As soon as his lips met yours, it was like something inside you exploded and it was no longer cold anymore. He nudged your nose with his.

“I missed you, Mesh’la.”

You scoffed. “You have no idea, Mayday.”

His expression turned playful. “Perhaps you should show me, then.”

#commander mayday x reader #mayday x reader #commander mayday #mayday x fem!reader #commander mayday x fem!reader #mayday tbb #tbb mayday #coffee’s 270 follower celebration #star wars

[ad0rechuu]

★ MILKY WAY. ━━ (060) love

WORD COUNT. 777

WARNINGS. none that i can think of rn but this is the last chapter (sort of) T^T and thank you 4 500 followers and more than thousand notes on this!

credits to @ari-shipping-stuff for being my beta reader / writer <33

THE PACKED VENUE, THE LIGHTS SHINING ON THE STAGE, THE OBVIOUS NERVOUS FEELINGS OF THE PARTICIPANTS THAT ARE STILL OBVIOUS REGARDLESS OF THE EXCITEMENT THE CROWD PUT OUT; IT ALL FEELS ODDLY FAMILIAR.

As you walk into the venue, you are reminded of your own debut stage. It wasn’t a competition back then but you think you have a pretty good idea what the participants must be feeling right now.

You are so deep in thought as you stare at the stage that you barley notice someone bumping into you.

He is quick to apologize as he reaches down to pick up the eight fallen water bottles. You follow his actions to help him, also apologizing.

You only meet his eyes when you hand him three of the bottles, and a mixture of shock and surprise washes over both of your features as you recognize each other.

Neither has enough time to say anything because a loud voice behind the two of you let’s out a big gasp.

“Yn?” Jongho exclaimed, making some people turn to the sound.

You shy away from their eyes but wave at him. “It’s been a while Jongho!”

You get closer and ruffle his hair, much to his (faux) dismay before moving onto the shorter of the two who’s still standing in front of you sheepishly.

“Hey, Joong.” You say softly, the moment those words come out of your mouth you see his shoulders relax. The two men look cold and intimidating dressed in black suits and large fedoras, but the warmth in his eyes cancel all of that out as he pushes the bottles in Jongho’s arms to cup one of your hands.

Hongjoong’s emotions are written on his face, he’s clearly happy that you’re here but he still feels apologetic for lying to you. You swing an arm over his shoulder and pull him into a side hug.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Yn.” Your oldest friend says with sincerity.

“I’m sure they are too.” Hongjoong adds as he nods towards the backstage area, patting your side affectionately.

You feel your cheeks warm up as the song ends. Hongjoong’s eyes widened when the next group takes their positions on stage and the announcer introduces them to the crowd, he quickly lets go and motions for Jongho who seemingly has the same idea.

“We gotta go, we’re after this!” He clarifies as he notices the confused look on your face.

He moves to walk away but he turns around once more. You can barely hear him over the cheers and claps.

“Will you be okay?” He mouths.

You nod, holding both of your thumbs up.

“Good luck.” You encourage with a warm smile on your features. “You can do it!”

The group before your personal main event is good but you simply can’t pay attention to them, only growing more and more nervous the longer you wait. It almost feels like you are the one who has to perform. Actually, scratch that, you aren’t that nervous when you do your job. But for some reason, when it comes to them the stakes feel much higher.

The clapping next to you dies down as the crowd anticipates the next contenders. Luckily, you find a seat in the back with a good view to the stage.

The cheering quickly bubbles back up again as your friends take the stage, all in unique but matching black outfits with chains dangling off their coats and pieces of fabric acting as masks that obscure their faces.

“Candidate 081, Ateez with Hala Hala.” The voice announces loudly through the microphone to hype up crowd as they take their position and the music starts to play.

Their dance starts beautifully but slowly it gets more powerful, you’re not only blown away by their performance but you also notice that the voices of the song are awfully familiar, you knew that the so-called captain was a producer but never in a million years you expected their talents to be at this extent.

While everyone is doing an outstanding job, you have trouble taking your eyes of a certain figure. The way his body moves is breath taking, his facial expressions have your heart beat speeding up and the sheer aura he brings to the performance is one of a kind.

He probably can’t see you but you see him, and the moment you see a flash of those passionate dark eyes, you know.

It was him all along. You finally know the name of person that heals your heart and gives you butterflies. At that moment, you realize that it can’t be contained to like anymore.

You love him.

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NOTES. thats it that’s the end… jk their individual routes are coming up now (next will lead you to the masterlist which will have have all the endings after i posted the all) but after that it’s really done 😖💔

TAGLIST. @bunnystrm @seongwin @aestheticsluut @meginthebuilding27 @gaebestie @stopeatread @pr1ncessm1ng1 @persphonesorchid @se0nghwaswife @seonghwasslytherin @leeknowsnothing @alixnsuperstxr @bluehwale-main @miriamxsworld @tocupid @rieuvie @sunoo-bby @jcngh0-hq @dudufodd @nikisbf @mrowwww @end0rchans @qtdenks @mintgki @dear-dreamie @leo-seonghwa @evilsailorsenshi @seonghwaddict @choichaeyiul @iw4milf @yunstarz @cvberidiot @not2daym8 @tubatu-wari-wari @sunshine1438 @jaehunnyy @brrrkdslek @whippedforbeomgyu @amara-mars @crvzy-fujoshi @hyuk4ngel @atinyinateezverse @nickiminajleftasscheek

#��� milky way — smau #cromernet #ad0rechuu — works #ateez #ateez smau #ateez social media au #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #seonghwa #seonghwa smau #seonghwa x reader #san #san smau #san x reader #mingi #mingi smau #mingi x reader #kpop smau #kpop x black reader #kpop social media au

[thatbangtanbloom]

intentions | jjk

intentions | jeon jungkook

blurb | 1.8k words  fluff, idol!jungkook ~

For her, waking up next to him was euphoric. Jungkook enjoyed nothing more than waking up to see YN caressing his cheek. He felt a flutter in his heart when she shyly dipped her head under the cover to peek at his boyish features from a different angle. How did she manage to continue being so cute? 

For Jungkook, he could not believe the woman he was able to wake up next to. The life of a popstar was not easy — he spent more time in the clouds than in his own house. The glamor and splendor of being a part of the rich and famous did have its perks, but he felt time and time again that he lacked stability where he needed it most. He cared little for the money or the fame if it meant he had no one that he could sincerely share his passions with. 

His days felt monotonous before he had met her. He woke up only to go to the studio for three hours, pigeon-hole time for his interviews with the latest magazine curators, and then on to preparations for his album and tour that was eagerly approaching him. He liked having the familiarity of what was going to come and anticipating the reaction as he approached a more unique and mature sound with everything he curated… but why did he find himself growing more dissatisfied with it then?

Of course, that had changed when he met YN. 

YN was his dream girl, to put it lightly. She was the last breath that he had not known he was holding onto when the cameras finished flashing. She was crudely unaware how he would eagerly wait by his phone all day and night just to see the three bubbles announcing her text were awaiting him on the other side. There was something about her straight-faced joke telling, her odd obsession with stickers and anything stationary, and the way that she threw herself into every project that she committed herself to. She always was eager to argue with him about whether or not his natural hair color was a raven black or a light brown. (Hint: she always argued it was an onyx black but Jungkook never cared much to remember the adjectives when he was so competitive!) Another playful banter they engaged with would be the color of his eyes and if her exaggerated praise for his ‘golden orbs’ were warranted when he saw nothing special in them.. But what he liked most about was his excessive teasing of getting her face tattooed on him somewhere on him with her own hands. After all, he had to have some skin left to only be touched by her. 

He also liked her cute habit of tracing his tattoos… just as she was doing now.

Her brown eyes focus intently on tracing the outline of the compass before circling her nail around his skin carefully. And then she giggles. Jungkook wonders if she knows the way she sets his stomach into a million flips with the slightest octave. “Are you holding your breath?” She asks as she turns her attention from the large compass on the side of his arm to meet his hazel eyes. 

There was something like home inside of them. 

Eager to change the subject, Jungkook clears his throat and entangles his fingers with the hem of her tank top. “You’re going to keep admiring me or give me the kiss I deserve?” Jungkook asks with a laugh as he loops his arm around her waist. “You’re going to make me wait longer?” “No, no. I won’t.” She replies with a warm smile before resting her head on his chest. Her hand captures his wrist and she wraps his arms around her. “Cuddle me.. I know you want to.” She whines. Jungkook smiles as he notices the slightest tremor in the corner of her lips from the request. Nothing made him happier than to hear her ask for his cuddles. Despite not looking like it, Jungkook was ever eager to be on the giving end of them if it meant having his girl in his arms. “And what would you do for them?” “Are you soliciting cuddles right now?” YN asks with a visible pout as she tilts her head to lay her head against his chest. Her fingers catch the gold chain that lays delicately across his collar bones.  “Huh?” Jungkook quips in response. “Are you buying?” He wiggles his brows in response. “Because if you are, I take payment in kissing. French only, please.” YN rolls her eyes playfully at his words and shakes her head. “You’re something else!” She says while tracing a singular delphinium tattoo along his left pectoral and hums. “Why do we have to sleep? I felt like I barely got time to spend with you after filming.. I even missed you in my dreams.” “Did you?” He asks in a doubtful tone. His nose scrunches up slightly as he tries to keep the chuckle he was holding back down. “Because something tells me you were having too much fun in your dreams–” “Oh—could you hear me?” YN asks in an alarmed tone. They still were fairly early in their relationship and the last thing she wanted was to rush things too fast. 

Jungkook shakes his head; the crown of dirty blonde hair falling over his eyes with a smile. “I did, but I know you missed me. I was just teasing ‘cause you’re so cute.” He chuckles as he brushes his nose against her cheek. The act alone makes her cheeks tint redder. “What’s your schedule like today? Are you busy?” she asks as she fumbles with the bracelet that he gave her. It was a simple one, only a sole purple string with the letter ‘D’ hanging off of it in a single flower charm. It was subtle. YN preferred that as much as she could. 

Sighing, Jungkook nods as he reaches over to his buzzing phone. “My manager has been up my ass all morning… but I wanted to at least wait until you woke up before I leave.” He says as he rubs the small of her back. “Mon chouchou.” 

There’s something magical about the way Jungkook looks in the morning. Claiming that there’s no need for modesty when one is going to bed, his muscles are evident and framed in picture-perfect tattoos along his skin. The singular rose aligning on his collarbone is irresistible to race with its thorns kissing his skin. Did he have to be so easy on the eyes at seven in the morning? It didn’t help that he was so easy on the eyes with his cupid’s bow and button nose. His bushy eyebrows are slightly messy, but they frame his expressive amber eyes perfectly. Gold flecks stare back at YN as she has to force herself to not fall in love with him this early in the morning. His voice raspy from just waking up nearly makes her crumble into his arms but she remains steadfast. 

“Chouchou?” Jungkook asks gently as his thumb caresses her cheek. Even though his hand is calloused from hours of guitar playing, YN doesn’t mind the rough indentations of his hand. It only makes her smile. “I think I got distracted.” YN remarks with a small giggle before she attempts to sit up. The key word is ‘attempt’, considering the vice grip that Jungkook had on her waist. “I’m thankful you stayed. I would have been sad if you left without saying goodbye.” 

“I know.” Jungkook whispers before he kisses her forehead. He takes his time to savor the warmth of her against her lips and trails down to her nose and finally her lips. His love language demanded physical touch and he was always eager to be on the giving side of it whenever possible. “I’ll call you when I have free time today. I have to hit the studio after my interviews.” “I understand.” YN says with a small smile as she tucks her hair behind her ear. She feels a bit emptier when his arm leaves her waist and begins to climb out of bed. “Will it be worse when you go for a tour?”

The answer for the both of them is quite obvious. Slated for a 43-show tour in 14 different countries for only the first leg, it would be a matter of time before the distance made the heart grow fonder and shrivel up with anticipation for one another… but it was what neither of them dared to utter aloud. “Not if you come with me.” Jungkook says as he tugs on his white V-neck. He chuckles at the visible pout that forms on YN’s lips when the tattoo on his chest– a crown– is covered by the thin fabric. 

Jungkook always has been the more affectionate one between the two of them. It isn’t because he cares more or loves harder, but rather he felt more free in expressing himself. He loved fully with his whole heart–even sometimes, too hard where he stumbled into love head first without thinking. It’s only natural for him to pop the question of bringing his girlfriend along for a tour without a second thought.

But it leaves YN paralyzed on the edge of the bed. 

Jungkook’s ringing phone – no doubt his manager, Harold – cuts through the silence to remind him of why he had begun to get dressed in such a haste in the first place. Sighing, Jungkook runs his fingers through his dirty blonde hair and slightly tugs at the end. It was times like this when he wished that he hadn’t been so famous in the first place. Fame was fine until love entered the equation. 

“Mon chaton?” Jungkook asks as he finishes buckling his pants to meet her eyes. “Why are you freezing that way?” He asks with a small pout. 

YNshakes her head, “No–I– I was not expecting you to ask me to join you.” She says, her mind running a mile a minute. She wants to think that it would be easy to join him on tour – that she could take a break from her own career for a few months. To take a break for once, with someone she loved dearly… but why did the thought of it make her stomach shrivel inside? “You don’t have to.” He whispers into her ear. He smiles to himself at her frame being hugged by one of his old shirts. “We can talk about it more–” He kisses the side of her temple slowly before sneakily stealing a kiss from her lips. “Dinner, tonight, okay? At Le Printemps. I made a reservation for us.” 

YN’s heart grows fuzzier as she nods on auto-pilot. Jungkook. There was something most endearing about how he never skipped showing his affection in the midst of rushing to his daily schedules.He never looked frazzled even with his hair tousled and watch dangling from his wrist to tell him the time of day. Confidence seeped from him and surrounded her.

It was no surprise that he was so famous when he was a walking build-a-boyfriend.   -  -  Let me know your thoughts! Don’t be a silent reader :)

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x yn #boyfriend!jungkook #idol~jungkook #Idol!AU

[comicaurora]

So far, has there been any sort of art technique or process you've tried that made you go "that was surprisingly easier/harder than I expected"?

Oh man, yea. So many things. Doing this comic has been a learning experience and a half because of all the textures and effects I have to do, most of which I figure out on the fly because I've either never done them before or I've never done them that many times before.

The first "surprisingly easy" effect I'd never succeeded at before was the scales on the Storm Drake in the interlude after chapter 6:

It's a Droplet particle brush used on two layers, one set to Multiply and the other to Screen. It produces a very easy texturing effect that works on everything from scales to sand to rock, making the surface look like it's catching the light in complicated ways. I used it again in Dainix's desert flashback in chapter 19 to make the sand look like it was catching the light.

I actually used a similar method to draw the background in the arena fight in chapter 12 - using a rounder particle brush, but the same combo of Multiply and Screen to produce a chaotic pattern that gave the illusion of a massive background crowd without making me hand-draw ten thousand tiny people.

This one was an effect that didn't surprise me and that I sadly had very little cause to replicate, but I LOVED the multicolored highlighting effect in Erin's chapter 6 flashback in the heart of the Storm. It ended up being very simple to do and it just looked SO pretty.

Changing the highlighting colors to just the cool-tones for this page just made me like it more.

When we hit Falst's intro arc and I had to draw about a million forested backgrounds, I decided to refine the process I'd used in the first few chapters, because I wasn't happy with those results:

Starting in chapter 8 I tried a lineless style for forested backgrounds, and it worked out better than I'd hoped. Not only did it produce a feeling of depth and shadow, I didn't even need to plug in my drawing tablet to do it - I could literally do these backgrounds with my trackpad and mouse, which was a huge timesave. Combined with a little experimental sunbeam stuff and these forest backgrounds ended up both shockingly simple to make and VERY nice to look at.

I used a similar technique for the soulcrystal in The Collector's lair - stacked Multiply and Add layers with nested rough shading patterns similar to the ones I used for foliage, but with more overlap to produce the effect of chaotically scattering light.

This was another no-drawing-tablet one, and I liked this texture so much that I willingly redrew it for the stinger in chapter 18 rather than copying the texture from the earlier chapter.

In terms of effects that took longer than I anticipated, Dainix's fully-realized Crucible form has been giving me trouble for literally as long as I've conceived of the comic. Drawing fire is already hard enough, but giving that fire a semi-solid, tangible form that was clearly readable as a humanoid figure was a HUGE pain in the ass. The head and arms were easy to design, but what to do with the bottom half was always a struggle, and beyond that I wasn't always sure how opaque to make him - real fire is a semi-translucent light source in constant motion with no clearly delineated edges, and if you draw it in a way that deviates from that too much it can make it feel less like fire. It took a while before I was happy with the color balance on him to make him suitably glowy without losing the internal detailing that made his expression readable.

Similarly time-consuming, working out how to do Vash's "nova mode" took some trial and error. I wanted to make it clearly visually distinct from Paladin light magic and regular fire magic, so I focused on trying to replicate the texture of the surface of a star, with sunspots and flares rather than licks of fire or sharp-edged lightsaber vibes. I'm happy with how it ended up, but if I recall correctly it took upwards of two days just getting all those glowy effects sorted out.

Then drawing the actual starfire blast was an even bigger pain, because again I didn't want it so glowy that it was completely unreadable. To be honest I'm still not sure if it worked.

This is a very recent one, but it took me a while to figure out an effect I was happy for to communicate "this place is really, really dark." I didn't settle on a blanket dusty purple desaturation layer until quite late, to sort of replicate what night vision supposedly looks like for animals that can see decently well in the dark. Lights and darks are preserved, but color isn't so much, and this way I wasn't way-overshadowing everything and making it impossible for US to see. And conveniently the actual effect is quite simple to do - it's just a universally gray layer at 50% opacity set to the "Saturation" combine mode, stacked with a universally dusty purple layer at 70% set to the "Color" combine mode. Very easy to add quickly and copy/paste across different pages.

There's probably more, but yea. Almost all of the "that was surprisingly difficult" effects either get easier with time or I figure out ways to simplify them and make them work in fewer layers. This is the really fun thing about a longform project like this - I keep finding new ways to challenge myself I'd never even thought of before.

#asks #aurora #art stuff

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

coming home

bucky barnes x reader

summary: a note leads bucky to the one who walked away

warnings: grief mentioned.

a/n: kinda sad, kinda angst, but sweet in the end.

GIF by bloodvows

The note left on his car windshield led him to a modest one story home, in a modest suburb of California. Bucky Barnes stood in front of the white door, a small arched window covered the top but he couldn't see anything as he pressed the door bell.

It chimed a friendly tune and he waited with anticipation, the gun in his pocket felt warm as he took in a deep breath just as loud footsteps approached the door.

He counted, in his head...one...two...three.

What he was expecting was a million other scenarios, not one of them included seeing your face in front of him. His heart dropped, he felt angry and excited, as you smiled at him.

"You got my note."

"You could have called."

Agreeing, you pulled open the door for him and asked him to come in. "You've come all this way, please, James."

James - he wanted to laugh at the way his name coming from you still made him feel like a boy with a silly little school yard crush. Except, neither of you were children. Although the way you left his life felt childish - felt like you were leaving him for idiotic reasons. He would have favored the two of you no longer being compatible than the reason you gave him the night you packed your things.

"I just can't do this anymore, it's not you, I promise."

But it had to be, right?

Why else would someone he loved leave him? It was too much for you, he was sure of it - the nightmares, the anger in his eyes at the monsters who sacrificed his life. He knew it had to be him, it haunted for months, no, for the last two years. Until he finally agreed to go into therapy on Sam's urgency. It did help and he had never felt mentally better, but now, seeing you - he could feel himself falling back into old thoughts.

Why wasn't he good enough for you?

"I didn't know you were in California..."

"I have family here, remember?" You closed the front door and pointed to the mahogany table against the wall, a linen basket sat on top of it. "Gun, please. No weapons in the house - well, at least ones not in my safe."

He actually smiled. "Yeah, of course."

You watched him take out the pistol from his jacket and placed it in the basket, his brows mused up when you covered it with the linen, beckoning him toward the living room. Bucky followed and looked around the cozy home; the large windows that brought in natural light that felt warm against his cheeks. His eyes instantly went to the small fireplace and the frames that lined up neatly. From the distance he stood, he couldn't make out the faces and when you asked him to sit down, the chance to examine your life a bit more closely disappeared. He sat on the edge of the green couch and you sat next to him, far enough to give him personal space but close enough that his heart was pounding.

It was quiet for a moment until he asked why you had brought him here and you inhaled deeply, looking down at your lap with shame and regret. You wish things could have been different, wished you had been up front with how you were feeling instead of running away. It wasn't that you hadn't loved Bucky, it was that you loved him.

Every time he went off to fight with Steve and the others, there was a chance he wouldn't walk back into your life. While that was his job and you had signed up for this when you entered a relationship with Bucky; it didn't hurt any less. Especially after losing your folks not too long ago - the grief had changed you, placed this wall around your heart and Bucky couldn't do a damn thing to get inside.

He was left pounding on the brick wall, screaming and shouting your name as his knuckles bruised and bled.

That's the truth and nothing would have changed it, until someone did.

"You have a daughter, Bucky."

The words stung his ears and he glared at you, unable to comprehend the words coming out of your mouth. Afraid of his silence, you kept talking, explaining that you had found out you were pregnant after leaving him.

"Months later, actually," you laughed, embarrassed that it had taken you so long to realize you were pregnant. "I was five months, it was crazy. No signs whatsoever, I was even still getting my period."

Bucky stared at you and your heart dropped. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I was afraid and that's the truth...I've always been afraid."

"...of me."

Your eyes gazed up at him in horror and your hand moved to his lap; the two of you froze with the touch and Bucky tried hard not to admit how much he missed it.

He did though and that was the truth.

"I have never been afraid of you," you asserted, moving your hand to his. Your gripped his knuckles and he casted a sorrow look to you, but he didn't pull away. Instead, his eyes kept focus on yours. "I was afraid of losing you and it was cowardly to run away like I did. But after losing my parents, I felt alone in this world..."

Bucky pulled away and ran a hand over his face, staring up to the fire place. "You had me."

Tears fell down your cheeks and you shrugged. "I could have had thousands of you and it wouldn't have mattered. I was messed up, I couldn't move past my loss and I still struggle to this day. Every day, every second, they are at the back of my mind and I am always on the edge of losing my shit but she keeps me here."

That last line shook Bucky to his core and any anger he felt, resentment, it all went away with the devastatingly beautiful look on your face. In an instant his arms are around your and your face is buried in his shoulder. His fingers gaze up and down your back, and he promises he isn't mad.

"I get it, I've been there."

Moving from his shelter, you hold onto his arm. "I should have told you sooner, but she's still so young, Bucky. She needs you..."

He gazed down at your hand on his arm and he asked if you needed him too. Your lips quivered and you held his hand tight. "I don't need you, but, god, I want you."

Bucky smiled then and he nodded. "I want you too."

The two of you embraced, his arms held tight around you and when he pulled away, he kissed you lightly on the forehead. He wasn't going to rush things, he wanted this go around to be the real deal. He wanted his family and would do anything to keep it.

"Can I see her?"

"Of course."

Standing up, you held out a hand and Bucky took it, the two of you walking in anticipation as you brought him to the nursery. You opened the door and motioned for him to go in; Bucky stood nervous for a moment and you laughed.

"Are you afraid of a little baby, Bucky?"

He laughed. "No, but fatherhood seems terrifying."

Touching his shoulder, you promised it wasn't. "...I hope you're not afraid of poop."

Bucky grinned. "Not my daughters."

You watched as he walked over to the crib, following him as he came face to face with the little girl that had brown hair like his and the same blue eyes. She was sitting up and playing with a stuffed zebra, and when Bucky reached down to touch her head, she gazed up at him. He slowly picked her up from the crib and held her in his arms; she touched his face and he turned to you with an enamoring smile.

"Her name is Winnifred, Winnie for short..."

"My mom...."

You stood in front of the duo and touched Winnie's hair. "Yeah, I thought you'd like that."

Bucky kissed his daughter's forehead and held her gently, but close to his chest. His metal arm held her back up and you reached up to his face. His eyes closed for a moment as you caressed him and promised that you wouldn't run away again.

"I'm in this for the long run, if you're willingly to have us."

His eyes opened as he bounced Winnie and he smiled, reaching with his free hand for you; moving into his side, he held his two girls and felt the weight of the world leave his shoulders. He was done with the fighting, the constant traveling - this house, this nursery, this was where he wanted to be.

"I'm more than willingly."

Thankful, you ruffled Winnie's hair and cooed at her. "...daddy's going to be here with us now, little girl. You're very lucky."

Bucky grinned, bringing you in for a kiss; his lips soft and loving as your daughter smacked his face. He laughed against your mouth and pulled away, gently holding her hand down as you smiled.

"Welcome to parenthood, James."

James.

The sound of his name on the tip of your tongue brought the warmth comfort of home to Bucky and he couldn't imagine being anywhere, but here, with his girls.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #daddy!bucky

[definitelyunhingedagentphoenix]

Hey so I lost the ask about my headcanons for Fabricator because the person deleted their blog (😭)

So here are the headcanons for everyone to enjoy and hopefully the person who initially asked for this, will see it on another blog or something. Now let's not waste any more time, and get right into it.

Sorry as well. This ended up being way longer and more detailed than I had anticipated. As it turns out, I have a lot to say about her.

Fabricator was a child prodigy. She was building things from a young age; her favourite pastime being taking things apart and putting them back together. After a few years of her (accidentally) destroying her parents' appliances, they enrolled her in a program for geniuses and she THRIVED there.

By the time she was a teenager, she had skipped many grades and was instead enrolled in her first year of university. She was extremely happy with this. Her experiments were now funded by the school which meant she had more freedom to do as she wished (as long as she didn't get caught that is).

She never particularly got along with the other students but she never really cared either. She did enjoy a party now and again though, which she got invited to fairly often. The other students found her very interesting.

She was never in need of money; she was given full scholarships all throughout university and had jobs lined up as soon as she graduated. None of the jobs really gave her what she wanted though. She wanted action and freedom in her inventions.

She was never a goodie-two-shoes by any means and she was never one to pretend to be. She got in trouble constantly in her youth but she managed to talk her way out of it.

Solaris and Zor had been following her work for a hot minute when she began building things that... seemed dangerous. They LOVED those machines. That's when (through a lot of prompting) Solaris managed to convince Zor to hire her on and the three of them hit it off right away.

Solaris and Fabby became inseparable. Most thought they were sisters because of how close they became. And Fabby quickly became Zor's favourite after she revealed her true potential. World domination had always been a particular pursuit of hers. She wanted it more than Zor ever did, but she never had the lab to herself to work on her true desires before. And Zor was the perfect cover. They both know that the other would end them should things ever go sideways enough so keeping each other in line/happy became an ongoing endeavour. Their relationship is absolutely based on mutual respect, sprinkled with a little fear.

She loves cats. She would have a million cats before interacting with one person (Solaris is the exception to this rule). However, she hates cleaning up after them so she had Zor hire a maid to clean all. "Yes, this is a necessary expense Zor! How am I supposed to build you another death machine for that stupid agent to destroy right under your nose if I spend all day cleaning!"

Speaking of Solaris, they bought matching convertibles just for the hell of it. They spend every weekend drinking wine and talking shit. Fabby is the main reason Solaris was able to escape and go into protection after the Death Engine.

When Roxana entered the playing field, she was honestly ecstatic. She had been watching Roxana's work for years and had often said she should be recruited to Zoraxis. However, she knew Zor's plan from the beginning was to betray and kill her. She played the part of an uncaring side character in Zor's plan but she wanted to help Roxana. Brilliant minds like hers shouldn't be wasted.

After a month of working with Roxana, she fell head over heels for her. Even if she would never admit that. Then when Roxana saved Agent Phoenix and returned to the agency (at least she assumes she did) she knew it was over. She took a vacation after that and there was nothing Zor could do to stop her.

She loves travelling so it wasn't unusual for her to pack up and leave when Zor wasn't in immediate need of her. This time her reasoning just happened to be a little different.

She considered leaving Zoraxis after that but she could never justify that. Even if there was somewhere to go after, she would be forever hunted by Zor and would give up the life she had worked so hard for. She had to stay.

Maybe someday Agent Phoenix would take down Zor for good and she could flee to another country. She liked Agent Phoenix. She definitely respected someone who could cause so much destruction and chaos. And anyone who could piss Zor off that much was a worthy opponent.

She will never give up on her dreams of world domination but her motives have definitely changed over the years.

#the fabricator #dr. zor #zoraxis #dr. prism #agent phoenix #commander solaris #i expect you to die #ieytd #ieytd 3 #ieytd2

[timmymyluv]

into it (trust issues)

into it

sugar daddy!timmy (timothee chalamet) x model!reader

So sorry this has taken so much longer than anticipated but she is here!! I didn’t think it would go in this direction but I loved how it turned out. 

Special thanks and love to @chal-latte and the rest of the taglist (to be added) whom have showed interest for this early on. Hope you guys like it! 

Please comment, reblog, share - lemme know what you guys think! 

Warnings: exhibitionism, dom/sub themes, oral (m/f receiving), fingering/masturbation, misunderstanding, sugaring (not sugarcoated but kinda??), protected sex (reader is on birth control)

Word Count: 7.3k

Again this is clearly sensitive, 18+ content so minors do not please interact with this. I beg of you, I demand of it actually. 

“I could give you the world. Ask for it, and it’s yours.”

You’ll never forget hearing those words come out of Timothee’s mouth, as both of you sat by the fancy downtown New York jazz bar under hazy, sultry lighting. In your body fight silk dress and bright red lipstick, you didn’t expect to meet anyone important, but yet you met- the Timothee Chalamet.

As a struggling model with few commercial gigs here and there, barely keeping you float and helping you pay rent in your shared model apartment with 7 other models.

You knew he was experienced with romance and sex, casual or serious relationships. A casanova of a sort who everyone would beg for even a glimpse of his attention.

Meanwhile, you were never one for casual hookups, after breaking up amicably with your ex in your smalltown before you moved to the Big Apple once you were scouted by an agency.

He was used to having girls (or even men) throw themselves at him, even for a one night stand or the chance for a relationship, but he found it so surprisingly refreshing that you didn’t seem one bit interested in that, or him at all.

Nonchalant and polite, you nodded along with a poker face as he introduced himself and you shook hands, siping on your martini paid for by another guy long gone from the club. As the night went by, you found lots of common ground in your conversation, giggling and cackling one moment before going deep into philosophical discourse the next.

He shared with you about his acting career, from the actors he’s had the pleasure to work with, sets to travel to, luxurious hotel experiences that his million-dollar salaries and offers on films promise him with. You almost itch with envy when he asks you about your modeling career, honestly sharing you’ve been reaching a dry period as the current trend in looks this season is not much favouring yours.

He shares a silent look of almost pity, but it’s like he can see through you. Seeing your potential, seeing you have that same drive, ambition that you are capable of so much more just like he is.

As the night ended, he asked for your number, and you exchanged as he put his on your phone. (rather second-hand, a former model friend gave it to you before a rich old billionaire bought her several brand new iPhones) Timothee offered you a ride home, offering nothing but a sweet peck on the cheek before he drove off after seeing you enter your front door.

…

It’s been nearly two weeks since you last saw him when he first texted you. Timothee tells you about being close friends with this casting director at Paris Fashion Week, and that the director would like to meet you.

You didn’t want to seem like a thirsty, social-climber gold digger - you didn’t entertain his advances because you saw him as a networking opportunity but he had this invisible pull to you that you couldn’t comprehend.

Sending your numerous thanks, you told him how grateful he was for that and what you could do to return the favour. Your meager salary and the runway pieces given to you last season in place for a proper salary would’ve probably seemed like trash to him, but he responds kindly. He wants to spend some time with you the next time he’s in New York City, and meet up for dinner.

…

The casting director he introduced you to opened up opportunities for you that you didn’t even know were there. Your agent was jumping for joy over the phone over you meeting that casting director.

“Are you serious? He’s the most well-connected casting director at the moment! He has booked you for so many shows and editorials next season - you are going to be the hottest new thing!” Your agent squeals, almost ringingly loud to your ear as you put your phone away from your ears and put it on speakerphone on the counter.

You don’t know what to gift him when you see him in a few weeks because, honest to god-you barely know the guy. Behind his prestigious acting roles and red carpet appearances, you’re just in the process of getting to know him.

He meets you at a rather upscale Italian restaurant not far off from the bar where you first met. You give him some random pastries you baked the night before, some cheesecake bites you took from an online recipe but tweaked slightly.

You expected to be embarrassed by your measly gift compared to the life-changing contact he just gave you.

“I’m just wondering- why did you recommend me to the modeling director? I’m not being ungrateful but - I’m just curious.” You ask as you take a bite of your spaghetti.

“He mentioned he was looking for some new faces and you were the first one I thought of, for no particular reason.” He casually shrugs, before getting into his own meal.

Nodding along, the both of you continue the night with your lively conversation, from how the shows you were in, the people you met to how wrapping up post-production was going for the movie he just finished filming.

The live band switches their slow, contemporary jazz to a more sensual tango tune, and just as you were going to sneak in to pay the bill while he wasn’t paying attention, he asked for a dance.

“Care for a dance?” He reaches his hand out to you suavely, confidently like he had rehearsed this a million times before. Of course he has.

You don’t find it in yourself to refuse. For the first time since you’ve met him, a part of you is not as guarded, almost more open and trusting.

There’s no need to worry whether he would be found by the paparazzi with some “new girl” and that you’d become one of his excursions for the week, only to be thrown away before he moves on to another. Celebrities are seen when they want to be seen, like he tells you with a raised brow. Besides, most of the people in the room are far into retirement, barely the usual teenage fangirls who would swoon at the sight of him.

As he twirls you around for the final song for the night, he provides you a proposition you would be stupid to say no to.

“I was wondering if- you would want to be my sugar baby? I’m not usually one to do these things, but- I just have this urge to look out for you, support you in every desire and whim you have.”

As you turn to face him, you look at him with a puzzled look, too shocked to respond.

“I-I didn’t mean to offend you or make you think I was pitying you-”

“Oh no no, I definitely didn’t get that impression. I was just wondering- why me?” You ask.

“I don’t know- I just want you to experience all that life has to offer. We haven’t known each other for long, but - if you are up to it, I would give you anything you want. I would give you the world, the moon even,  if you asked for it. ”

He’s up front about how he is currently not looking for anything committed. I mean why would he? He was a top Hollywood heartthrob who would have anyone throwing themselves to even have a piece of his time, satisfied with one night stands and hookups because he would be flying red eye to red eye with his jet set lifestyle.

You both draft a written document on the terms of your arrangement - an annual allowance, full access to his industry networks, the amount of time you spend with him whenever you don’t have work, but the last and final term - no falling in love/ romantic entanglements.

It doesn’t sound like a bad idea to both of you as you nod along at his suggestion and sign your name in red ink underneath. But you always know how this ends.

…

He takes you to a luxury department store that very next morning, driven by his driver on a limo, and closes the store for a few hours so you have the attention of every salesperson to your beck and call.

You are having your own Pretty Woman movie moment, your romantic film of your dreams coming true. You feel the heat rise up in your cheeks as you brush your fingers against the fine fabric on the velvet coat hangers, and try your best to ignore the confused yet almost jealous and annoyed facial expressions from the salespersons waiting for you to try things on.

Timothee let you explore for the first while, smiling fondly as you explored through the luxury department store with awe and wonder. You were drawn to a particular Yves Saint Laurent jacket and some Balenciaga jeans, as you hesitantly looked at him to try it on and he excitedly shoved you to the change room.

As you scrutinized yourself in front of the mirror with the charcoal leather jacket and Versace pumps, he comes in with a gleeful grin, with some items he wanted you to try on.

“Sir, there can only be one person in the change room-” The attendant tries to murmur but she’s ignored as Timothee sneaks into the spacious change room and sits down as he watches you examine the suggestions of clothes he wanted you to try.

“I think these colours would look really good on you, Y/N. Would you want to try them on?” He asks almost sultrily, looking back and forth and already picturing them on you.

Who are you to refuse - he clearly has an eye for fashion and he seemed to understand your style and taste already in the duration of your certain arrangement.

The red Givenchy body fitting dress looked stunning on your figure, hugging your curves perfectly with ruched satin intricately weaved on top of leather. When you emerge from behind the curtains, he looks up with dark, hooded eyes and a pleased smirk.

“Stunning as always, Y/N.”

“You say that for everything I’ve tried on.”

You pull him by his grey tie, snickering as you pull him into an all-consuming kiss that turns into an uninterrupted makeout session, not caring for the world about the salesladies who would hear every word, but could not say anything because he did pay for the entire hour to yourselves, no?

He playfully toys with the belt loops of your jeans as he opens his mouth and your tongue slides in to entangle with his. Your newly manicured hands are all over his chest, gently massaging as you moved down to his neck and hear a muffled moan against your ear.

Timothee’s palms brush from your shoulders to your back and stopping briefly over your breasts, fondling with them until he is satisfied with a symphony of your aroused shrieks you fail to hinder in time.

Kissing down his cream, silk dress shirt, fondling with the buttons until you get to his crepe dress pants and tug his boxers down as well in one strike. Rather than embarrassed on this public display of lust, he looks down at you with a confident, smug smirk, browsing his fingers through your silky hair with pride.

First pumping slowly from the tip, drunk off his frustrated and impatient groans, before quickening your pace before your tongue first makes contact and a feral grunt erupts from the bottom of his throat.

Bobbing, choking, slightly gagging and gulping his shaft down your throat, you expertly maneuver his desires from the flush on his cheeks, closed shut eyes and the moans he is emitting as he grips tightly against your scalp until his knuckles turned white.

“You’re too good at this-” He gasps at a particular throb of the back of your throat against his length, your fingers massaging his balls and lightly tickling the top of his dick until he splutters expletives and releases into the velvet of your mouth.

Swallowing eagerly like it was the last thing on earth you could consume, the only liquid that could nourish you, you stared back with fawned innocence as you release him from your warm cavern and slowly stand up, proudly wearing the bruises on your knees like a medal.

As you lean forward to zip up back his pants and pull up his boxes, he tugs you at the collar for a gentler, more delicate kiss, smiling as your teeth slightly clash at how clumsily he is kissing you back, still in a hazy daze from the mind blowing blow job you just gave him and the taste of his sweet release on you.

Leaving hand in hand with your smeared lipstick all over his face and your hands in his with a cheeky grin, he spoiled you to no limit and you left with a minimum of $100,000 spent that afternoon alone - from clothing to limited edition jewelry with only a few hundred pieces in existence.

…

Dinner that night was at a hotel restaurant in an upscale, but trendy part of town where you’d expect to see more urban, cosmopolitan yuppies like you.

The reflection of the new diamond Cartier necklace glimmers against the metal display across from you, as you proudly showed off your neck like a proud swan as he admired how you looked in the piece he chose for you and held your hand close to him as he kissed your knuckles gently.

“You always choose the best pieces for me, Tim. I cannot thank you enough.” You earnestly thank him but he hushes you lightheartedly, his index finger against your plush lips.

“There is no need to thank me, angel. To see you happy and dressed like the goddess you are, that is more than enough for me.” He tilts your chin towards him with a gentle pinch of his fingers, deeply looking into your eyes with a sincere expression.

You peck him briefly on the cheek across the table before your waiters arrive with the food you ordered for the night. Chatting casually about how his memorization of his new script has been going, the casting sessions you’ve been to recently, modeling executives you’ve met and the new book he’s read throughout the night.

To an unknowing outsider, the both of you clearly resemble a long-term committed loving, monogamous relationship, deeply in love. Even the restaurant’s manager mistakenly calls you his wife or the waiters assume you’re his girlfriend when Timothee introduces you to them as he’s a regular at this place. You hide the flush of your cheeks and nod along awkwardly.

…

He orders takeout dessert to be delivered to his apartment later that night, twirling the red wine in his wine glass, watching you bite into one of the matcha macarons from the fancy box he ordered just for you, because he knew it was your favourite.

The twinkle in his eyes was clear as the stars in the sky, even from his top floor Manhattan loft. Some of his curls loosely dangling over his eyes, his eyes dazy with sleep and slightly high off the few puffs he took from the joint you rolled him, and sleepy from the long day you spent on the go together.  

Littering gentle pecks and faint tongue licks all over your face, pressing his palm into your cheekbones as his mouth ghosts over your jaw, brushing over your forehead - just him, his scent, his touch, all over you and leaving his prints in his wake.

Deep in thought, it is soon before he recognizes the daze you’re in as you’re not as receptive to his touches as usual.

“Something on your mind?” He hoarsely whispers against the curve of our neck, blue and purple splotches starting to form.

“Would you consider having sex with me? Or is that not in our agreed terms-” He sits up in alarm with wide eyes and you guiltily grasp for him, fearing you’ve lost him for good.

“Consider? I never wanted to give the impression that our arrangement was for sexual intercourse only. You could have never touched me again and I would still want your company.” He speaks so openly, so candidly and you feel ashamed by how guarded you are.

“Timmy, I sucked you off in a department store dressing room, and you’ve eaten me out more than I can remember. Of course I am down for sex.” Feeling like you’ve misunderstood his intentions, tears starting to form and sting in your eyes.

Reaching forward to wipe away your tears, he hushes you and presses his forehead against yours with his eyes tightly shut.

“I never asked for you to become some high class prostitute or courtesan only for my sexual pleasures, doll. I truly want to indulge in your soul, your intelligence, your beauty, your kindness, your charm - everything.”

“I do not want you to feel pressured to have to reciprocate anything I do for you with your body, you are worth much more than that. Just your time with me is valuable enough that no money can return.”

Still refusing to look into his eyes and nodding along absently as you try to wipe away your tears, he brings you back to him, pressing his lips against yours with a firm resolve before backing away.

“Yet if that is what you want, I will not refuse it. I want to make love to you, not just fuck you and dispose of you the next day. Again, ask for anything and it is yours. I will not refuse you anything. Name a date, and you shall have it.”

Selecting a movie from his vast DVD collection, you both refuse to speak further on this conversation. Laying your head against his arm, tightly embracing his bicep against your nose and fight against the sleepiness washing over you. This is all pretend, you can pretend he is yours and you are his fully, wholly. When no strings attached you to each other than the ghost of what could have been.

..

You are away from him for a few weeks when a string of modeling gigs, booked campaigns, magazine covers and runway invitations pull you away from him.

After quick brunch with a number of high profile casting agents and fashion investors who are pleasantly impressed with you, you are ushered away by your manager and your casting agent to a studio just south of Pasadena for a Marc Jacobs perfume campaign.

Your hair plastered up with gel and powdered white and pink a la Marie Antoinette by Sofia Coppola, and a plain yet delicate beige full length gown that molded to your shape like a Renaissance marble sculpture. Makeup on your face was bare sans bright pink blush on the apples of your cheeks, foundation that made you look ghastly more than alive, and clear lipgloss on your lips.

Submerged in a murky, stained bathtub filled with water, you sat down and the dress became transparent against your figure, sparing nothing to the eyes. Your nipples peaked through the v-shaped neckline that was held together only by strings of gold chains and strips of white chiffon, as you transfigured into various poses that the photographer approvingly took with harsh flashes against your cornea.

Minutes turned into hours as the shoot continued into the late afternoon and nearly the evening, the lukewarm water turning cold against your skin, submerged and formed goosebumps on your forearm and thighs that you were sure would make you wake up with a cold the next morning. Heck, you could already feel the headache starting to crawl into your skull.

As you stepped out and left a soaked trail behind you, the assistants rushed to envelope you with a cotton bathrobe and a pile of other towels were thrown your way to dry you clean. Scanning and preapproving the photos with the photographer with an absent grin, you thank everyone on set for their work and rush to the bathroom for a shower before you rush home, order takeout and knock out for the night.

Browsing your phone aimlessly, you are pleasantly surprised when your bank app notifies you about a recent deposit of $35,000, from Timothee with a simple note saying “ Get whatever you want darling. Still looking for a new place? Found some listings you might like.”

You are astonished at how nonchalant he was about sending you money that most people would not even see in their entire lifetime. This probably was just pennies and dimes compared to his annual income nowadays, with all these films coming in and offers flying by the minute.

Sending one of the outtakes from the photoshoot just from your neck down to him, your breasts fully in display as the transparent dress you were wearing was sodden, the dips of your hips deliciously accentuated and your waist cinched, a mischievous simper on your face appeared before you ran off to the shower before you could even get more sick.

The emphatic pings of your phone’s message notifications against the constant gush of the shower water over your head made your belly rumble with victory and unappeased desire. You could only imagine what dirty, unhinged things he would be saying to you over text, what he promised you for the next time you would see each other and how you were in for it good when it came to punishments.

“Like it?!  I fucking love it, angel. I would devour you right now if I was there.”

“Oh, you little minx. What happened to the shy doll I first met at the bar?”

Your head was in the clouds guessing on what he sent you as you washed your hair and soaped your body under the running water. Feeling the heat of your body, you hovered down just above your sex. Tickling slowly around your inner thighs, pretending it was his longer fingers instead.

One hand pushing your lower lips apart as one fondled your breasts and pinched your pink, puffy nipples, you suppressed a high pitched moan in fear a lingering crew member would overhear you and ruin your reputation before your modeling career even took off.

Scissoring your index and middle finger into your warm chasm as your thumb traced lightly over your clit, you lost track of time as you indulged in the feeling that washed over your body. Like a tightly knotted string curled up tightly before being yanked violently, you see stars against a canopy of the night sky as you sweetly release, his name murmured repeatedly under your breath like a prayer.

Leaving the studio just before midnight strikes, in the brand new Louis Vuitton top he got you with some thrifted trousers and custom made sneakers he designed with you in mind, the poor interns left behind to clean up the intricate set design for the photoshoot of the campaign did not find anything odd about how upbeat and energized you looked after a grueling, all day shoot.

As you got into the private Mercedes Benz driven by one of his hired drivers that waited for you by the parking lot, your thumb hovered over sending ‘i touched myself at the thought of you, daddy.”  

…

The final box delivered at your newly moved two-bedroom apartment in Greenwich Village reaches your doorstep, and you thank the kind delivery man in your apartment complex.

Beside the box of plain Corelle dishes, a circular ivory hued gift box with a giant satin bow on top caught your eye. Tugging the card underneath, you see his name “Timothee” written elegantly with a fountain pen, as you hold it against your chest before shaking your head with an iridescent smile on how sweet and thoughtful he always is.

Three dozens of preserved pink roses were neatly arranged inside, with a lengthy original poem he wrote alongside excerpts from both your and his favourite literature writers and poets.

“To my muse, yn. Xx

XIV

If thou must love me, let it be for nought

Except for love's sake only. Do not say

'I love her for her smile—her look—her way

Of speaking gently,—for a trick of thought

That falls in well with mine, and certes brought

A sense of pleasant ease on such a day'—

For these things in themselves, Beloved, may

Be changed, or change for thee,—and love, so wrought,

May be unwrought so. Neither love me for

Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,—

A creature might forget to weep, who bore

Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!

But love me for love's sake, that evermore

Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning”

Pressing kisses of the laced envelope until lipstick marks stains were burned into them, you cherished this gift, his sweet, honeyed words and the paradise he had crafted and welcomed you into. If only he could give you his heart.

…

After countless of meetings with your agents and your managers, your team have expanded and hired more assistants under your wing as your schedules became more complicated and hectic.

Strolling across the small, hidden park, you are both enjoying the warm, glimmering sun coming out and kissing your skin and hitting two birds with one stone as you get your daily steps in. As your brown leather boots brush against the soil underneath the grass, you can’t help but think of him.

It’s been several months since the beginning of your arrangement, and with how much your career is thriving at the moment, you can’t believe you’ve barely had the time to process what you had with him.

You were to see him again in a few days, counting the seconds, the hours until you could feel his skin under yours again. The warmth of his body as he whispered empty promises down the column of your throat and you for a moment wish to wholeheartedly believe it.

Were you being too forward? Perhaps your appeal on why he picked you of all people was because he was used to figures throwing themselves at his whim, leaving broken hearts to never be seen again after a sinful night.

So when you carelessly offered yourself, your body to him that fateful day, you shattered whatever perception of speciality that you figuratively formed in his mind. You scolded yourself mentally as you continued your walk, ignoring the tears that streamed down your face before you picked up the hidden cigarette from your pocket for a few puffs.

…

You are waiting for him in his loft, having finished arranging accounts and investments with his financial advisor whom he recommended you work with to further grow your independent bank account and finances.

Timothee surprises you as he locks his arms around your neck, peppering kisses on the apples of your cheeks. You smile at the scent of the perfume you had chosen for him the last time you went shopping together - a piece of you he carried with him even when he was away.

“I missed you. Did you miss me?”

“How could I have not? It’s not the same when you’re not here.”

He reciprocates your smile as he looks at you fondly, massaging your head with his fingers through your locks, as if he was feeling if you were real, and physically present. You cradle his hands against your face, closing your eyes to wallow and drown into that sensation.

Sinking into the couch,e he leaves a burn with every kiss he trails down your body, gently slipping every piece of your clothing one by one, without a care for the world.

…

Several months continue of this daydream of an arrangement, and you fear things are too good to be true. You two are basically in a romantic relationship that have done everything and anything, except it is not monogamous, heavily dependent on financial transactions and could end any minute you lose his favour and to his whims.

The first night you give yourself to him, you want nothing to do with the intricate indications of what making love hinted to you. You did not want to intertwine your soul further with his ,even though you were already his but to no guarantee was he fully and entirely only yours.

You lied through your teeth that you only wanted dirty, violent and ruthless, hard sex - just brutal, raw fucking. In your all-red lace lingerie that barely hid anything to imagination other than his leather jacket you stole from his closet, your red lips hid the feelings you wanted to set free.

He repeatedly tried to talk you out of this, that he was not going to judge you for any of your preferences and you could change your mind anytime, that he could stop and go gentle or never touch you sexually again. You refused. You refused to let him see you like that when this is not what a committed relationship entailed. This was purely a financial transaction between a sugar baby and her financial provider.

Scratching down his back as he leaves fingerprint bruises down your thighs, torse, around your neck, you think this is the closest thing you can get to his touch on yours, numbing you from the growing sensation of unrequited, unbridled care, affection and love you developed for him.

Whips, sex toys, vibrators, bondage, shibari- whatever experimental sexual thing that’s harsh, yanking at your skin and has no hint of lovemaking to it, you’re game. As long it’ll keep him close to you, physically but not emotionally or mentally or spiritually. That’s too close. You get too close and you’ll lose him- never to see him again. It’s not even about the money anymore, you wouldn’t give a shit if he stopped wiring you an annual allowance and could just spend the rest of your life with him forever.

Every time you think he wouldn’t see you crying at night even after the aftercare he would generously give you, he too looked at you longingly, but he didn’t want to cross the line. If he keeps crossing the line and pushing the boundary further and further like he already has, the lines between the truth and the lies just keep blurring.

He wants you. Not just for your body, nor your intelligence or your beauty. He’s afraid. He’s never been so open with someone like this. Or at least since- well, a painful memory he would never want to mention again.

Timothee has always been so guarded, flocking to casual hookups, making out with random girls he meets one night, not knowing their names or seeing their faces in the night light before he runs away. Like he always has.

It horrifies him, scares him intensely. When he watches you sleep beside him on his bedside, it terrifies him how you have his heart in your hands, and can crush it anytime, but he pretends it doesn’t bother him. Wouldn’t that just be leading him on like how others have done to him?

It continues like this for weeks, barely a month - but the temperature has gotten too hot, the glass has cracked. Enough is enough.

“Why aren't you talking to me anymore? “ He asks you impatiently, tired of the messages of his you keep ignoring, or how you don’t look at his face whenever he’s around.

“What do you mean, I'm talking to you right now?! Nothing is wrong, Timothee. Here you are making such a big deal about everything!” Your voice wavers as you turn around to face him, hiding the tears hovering to pour out any moment.  

His head in his hands, pulling at the roots in his hair as he keeps trying to interrogate you but there’s no way to get through.

‘Why have you been so guarded with me recently? Heck, you’ve never been an open book from the start but you barely even share a glimpse of yourself with me anymore!” He shouts, he doesn't want to raise his voice but you’re not getting the point when the wall you put between the two of you only gets thicker and higher.

“I thought this was just an arrangement, Tim! I never thought you’d even think of romantically seeing me like that, or be in a committed relationship when we never talked about it!”  

Your breath heaved as you felt that you’ve unleashed something you’ve held back for so long. It was now or never. This could either open you up to a genuine communication with him, or close the doors in your face forever.

He stares at you in disbelief, in shame for himself, for not having treated you right. Timothee rushes towards you and puts his mouth against yours, his palms cradling your face as if he would lick your wounds to heal.

He releases you from the kiss like he swam up for air. “I’m so sorry you felt that way. Yes, we started our arrangement primarily as you as my sugar baby, but the feelings I developed for you were real.”

“You loved me?” The tears flow down your cheeks as you tuck your head around his neck, wanting to feel him against you as the emotions consume you completely.

“Loved and I still do. I always will. I was afraid of getting hurt, that making a commitment will make me lose you. I’ve never had the best luck when it came to relationships, so I felt that keeping myself at a certain distance would allow me to be in your life, but that I wouldn’t risk losing you.”  

Oh, how you felt so foolish! You wailed in despair as you smacked his chest, pushing him away as you cried but wanting him closer to you, too close, yet not close enough.

“You fucking idiot, I thought you only wanted to throw your money at me for my time and my body! I never wanted you to make love to me and rather just fuck me heartlessly because I was afraid it would give me an illusion that you loved me like I love you.” You spit your words out like you’ve been fed venom, a wound not fully healed and needed time to breathe.

Timothee lunges at you again until he is hovering over your body on the bed, his hands firmly locking your wrists above your head. He murmurs apologies as he peppers light pecks on your nose, down your neck and down your sternum.

“I’m so sorry - I’m ashamed I never had the chance to tell you the truth until now. The entire truth-”

“The girls I saw you with from a week before you flew home?” You had to ask, you couldn’t resist. You bit your tongue from when the photos were released from photographers during the events before he came home to you.

It stung like you were stabbed right in the stomach with a sharp knife and it twisted within you. The air clocked out your lungs and your vision blurred as you assured yourself that this was totally expected from your arrangement.

It was not monogamous, there was nothing romantic nor committed about your agreement. Heck, why wouldn’t he? He was at the peak of his career with girls throwing themselves at him every second, so why would he refuse if they could give him what you couldn’t?

So when the pictures of his tongue down some random girls throat backstage at the Coachella tents a few days ago even if it was before he came home to your bed, it only reminded you of how fickle the moments you had with him.

“I was drunk and I was high - I promised it didn’t mean a thing. My manager and my publicist team demanded I be pictured with these girls, for the image they want of me as some playboy, casanova heartbreaker.” He groans in frustration, apologetic he had to do anything against his will.

A part of you wanted to trust him fully, wholly but you couldn’t. You knew how this wretched industry worked, especially in the dark trails of Los Angeles. It was not fully the city of angels, or how it wanted to be.

Appearances were everything. It was only expected of him to play the game by its tricks if he wanted to survive and come out on top of the food chain. It would only amp up his appeal, his marketability if he appeared desired, still single and uncommitted but attractive and wanted to those wannabe influencers and models you didn’t know their names of.

“I- I don’t fully trust you, but I want you to give us a chance. If you’re willing to fight for it.” You demand, setting your ground as you push him above you so you can stare at him directly and clearly.

“I want this more than anything. You have my word. It won’t be perfect, but I am willing to put everything on the line for you. I don’t expect you to forgive me so easily, but please - at least one chance.” His eyes water as he looks at you sincerely, moving to your side and places his arms around your shoulders.

You reach forward slightly for a gentle peck on his lips, circling your arms around your waist. Sighing vows of pleasure and acceptance as he prays apologies down your skin. The straps of your flimsy crop top fall down your shoulders, as you feel his fingers and the warmness of his tongue brush against your delicate skin.

Wanton cries of pleasure come out from your mouth, your fingers tangled into the locks of his hair, pulling at his scalp as he pulls up your top from above your head. Leaving marks down the column of your throat and chest before he reaches for one of your nipples, circling and pinching with one hand while the other is sucked on with an eager hunger that cannot be satisfied.

He goes back and forth before he is trailing down your stomach with the same ferociousness and desire. You reach forward to raise his shirt from his torso and fumble for his belt clumsily.

Pulling your skirt and your panties in a single attempt, he nudges you back against the mattress, the silver necklaces on his neck hovering over you. You pull him in by his necklaces to kiss him ardently, breathlessly like if you stopped kissing him, you’d stop living and breathing entirely.

Timothee’s hands linger above your hips, before he tenderly grips your thighs, looking up for permission to part them and continue before you assert him with a panicked nod.

He dives in without restraint, fingers toying with your clit teasingly before you whine in thwarting before he thrusts into your hole mercilessly. He plunges in according to the symphony of your moans and cries, a particular groan coming from his throat when he finds a spot you like and puts his tongue right in, adding to your gratification.

Adding more fingers as his tongue wildly eats you up like candy, like the last meal he will have, your thighs wobble around sloppily and discombobulatingly as you build up towards reaching your peak.  

“Ah-ah, yes, right there , Timmy! So good, so- ah!” His enticing, alluring eyes look up at you almost menacingly, like you’re prey he can’t wait to tear apart. He adds another finger as his tongue swipes in deeper and messily, slurping your juices as your orgasm comes crashing in.

Seeing stars as a string is pulled from within you, the light and darkness of your perception incomprehensible as one as you lose sensation for a moment. As you return back to your senses, you only see unruly curls and hazel eyes looking at you like he’s known you forever.

As you regain your hazy thoughts to pump his shaft as he cries in revelry, eyes rolling backwards as you press him closer to you. He moves up to flutter over you, gaping on top of you with laborious breaths as he wordlessly asks for your consent one more time.

Hoarsily you hiss a hushed ‘yes’ with whatever voice you got in you left from your cries in euphoria, and he thrusts into you haltingly, unhurriedly- so unlike the times you usually make him fuck you until you can’t walk.

Tangling your hands with his, he worships you as your hips brush and he penetrates into you without restraint, but so softly, so delicately like you would break like glass any minute. Bit by bit, before he is fully inside, groans as he sucks into the skin below your jaw and messily kisses you on the lips, fresh with your essence giving him a glow.

You cry like you have seen heaven above, whining, and screeching over the love of his that he has desperately wanted you to feel, but you’ve denied for so long. He adores you like you’re an altar, a saint on a pedestal that he wants to sacrifice himself for.

“I love you, fuck - i love you, so much. Mon amour-”

As you feel him release his warm seed inside you, he rubs repeatedly against your clit and sensitive hole before you come one more time, like two souls intertwined and intertwined into one. Like you were him, and he was you.

…

The rest of the night is a fuzzy blur, tainted by too many glasses of wine where you end up tangled in his bed sheets. The tender touches across your torso and around your neck are more gentle than you’ve ever imagined.

You give yourself to him three times that night, just as ravenous and hungry as the first time. You had previously chatted about your boundaries, your off-limits, but what you were willing to indulge and try with him in his bedroom.

As the sun rose, you opened your eyes to him propped on his elbow, looking down at you longingly with nothing but affection and fondness in his eyes.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

“We still have lots to talk about, doofus.” You tease him, pointing your tongue at him as you sit up with your comforter around your waist, but he pushes you back down.

“That and we will. Let’s give this one more try, and start how it should’ve been. “ He truthfully promises with no mischief or lies on his face.

You hesitate for a moment, not knowing what to say as your mouth opens trying to figure out what to say next.

“Give it some time. I know this is a lot to think about, but I really want us to work. I want this to last.”

“You promise?” You sound so hopeful, like an innocent child so optimistic before the real demons of the world came haunting her down.

“Yes, I promise. If you think I won’t spoil you with everything I got either, you’re dead wrong.”

Oh, Tim. The very Timothee you grew to love and adore.  You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“You can’t say I wanted you just for your money or that I’m a gold-digger then. You can’t get rid of me that easily!” You jest, trailing your fingers lightly over his chest, until he reaches forward just underneath his bed. 

“Now why don’t you try on this new lingerie set I got for you? I’m sure you’d look delicious with it on?!” He offers with a teasing smirk, eyes darkened with lust and want already as he holds the package in his hands.

You shake your head with a light chuckle. Oh you were in for it now.

#timothee chalamet imagines #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet scenarios #timothee imagines #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet

[justwritedreams]

One in a Million | Baekhyun

Implied Street racer Baekhyun x Reader Word count: 1488 Genre: fluff, slight angst. Author: maari  Warnings: Reader being insecure because yeah you know me too well Note: I think I've exhausted all possible scenarios of jealousy with baekhyun 🤣 Request: Could you please write jealous s/o and Baekhyun? She is really sad and heartbreaking. Crying and crying and Baekhyun thinks this is a stupid jealousy. Fight fight fight! Buttt the end hug and kisses ⫷ Exo Masterlist

Y/N entered through the back of the garage with a gigantic, almost mischievous smile.

She was back in town earlier and the only thing she thought of when she took the taxi was to go to her boyfriend's warehouse by surprise, she wanted to see the shocked face he would make when he saw that she had returned earlier than she had anticipated.

She knew that place inside and out and best of all, she had the keys. By the time, she assumed he was fixing up one of the racing cars or at the office, however her smile faded and she didn't make any noise as she was planning to when she saw that Baekhyun was standing in the center of the garage looking at another figure, a woman dressed too elegantly, it didn't go with the place and the convertible that was parked behind her.

Y/N trusted her boyfriend and knew this was probably a deal being made, but she couldn't deny that she was bothered. A woman like that alone with her boyfriend at that time of night? She felt the bag get even heavier as she approached another car stealthily, the two were too deep in conversation to even notice that she was in the darkest part of the garage, Y/N gulped when she saw the woman approaching and had to fight against every muscle in her body not to advance on that woman when she saw her caress Baekhyun's arm in a teasing way. Alright, she wasn't misinterpreting it, it was clear from the woman's expression that she was flirting with Baekhyun who seemed completely unfazed by that attempt, he just didn't care. Y/N was about to leave where she was hiding when the woman sighed, Baekhyun kept his expression serious, and she said goodbye, wiggling more than necessary to get into her car and in minutes she was out of the garage.

She saw her boyfriend shaking his head and snorting, so she took a few steps and dropped the bag on the floor, the echo caught Baekhyun's attention who looked for the source of the noise with his eyes. Baekhyun's face lit up when he saw that Y/N was there and she swayed her body as a way of trying to contain the tears but unlike what he could imagine, those weren't of emotion, but of anger. Baekhyun's face lit up when he saw that Y/N was there and she swayed her body as a way of trying to contain the tears but unlike what he could imagine, those weren't of emotion, but of anger.

She hated feeling that way, like she was an insecure teenager, but a lot of times she couldn't help it, mostly because her boyfriend's "job" didn't help.

There were always girls ready to throw themselves into his lap, and sometimes they literally did, but Baekhyun was always too polite to them and just walked away. It was enough for Y/N because she knew he was faithful to her but watching was always the worst part because she doubted not only him but herself and she didn't like it. Because there was no point when he had already proven that she was the one he wanted. “Angel.” he spoke, the smile growing even wider and he took a step towards her but Y/N held up his hand, making him stop.

He did, his brow furrowed and she shook her head, unable to hold back her tears any longer.

"It's nice to know what you do when I'm not here." she snapped and walked towards the stairs that led to his office.

"Hey Hey." he ran to her, grabbing her by the arm.

"Don't hold me." she asked, feeling all the strength to fight him evaporate. She never needed more than a simple touch from him, even the gentlest.

"What got into you?" he asked, concerned. He hated seeing her cry.

Y/N took a deep breath, not daring to answer or look him in the eyes and Baekhyun gently pulled her so that she turned her whole body towards him, she was slightly taller than him because she was on the first step of the stairs and she wanted to cross her arms but her boyfriend's hand prevented her from doing so. "I know that look." he accused. "You saw it, didn't you." It wasn't a question, and it didn't need to be.

Baekhyun knew Y/N's every blink, even if she lied to him, he would know the truth.

"Yes!" she replied angrily, feeling the tears continue to fall. And she was still angry because she couldn't control them. "Is that what you wanted me to answer?" "You know you don't have to feel that way." he spoke in such a comforting tone that Y/N just sighed, because she knew it was true but was acting irrationally. "You don't have to be jealous."

"But I'm human!" she spoke louder. "I hate this situation and it's not from now that I feel like this."

"If you do this every time I have business with a woman, I'll end up having to choose between you and my job, is that what you want?" he asked and it didn't help Y/N's situation at all.

She angrily pushed his hand away from her arm.

"You don't even have to say what your choice is because I already know." she replied dryly and went down the stairs, heading towards the bag lying on the floor, she felt Baekhyun following her.

"You're making a drama for nothing!"

"Nothing?!" she turned, her voice rising even higher. "That woman was flirting with you." she accused, pointing to the garage door.

"Nothing that hasn't happened before and that you haven't already seen." he shrugged. "What's the difference this time?"

Y/N bit her tongue to not answer because she didn't want to talk nonsense at that moment but she was angry, sad.

"I'm going home, I shouldn't have come here." she diverted the conversation and prepared to leave, but she should have known it wouldn't be that easy as Baekhyun stopped in front of her.

"You're not leaving until we talk about this." he spoke firmly, making her sigh. "Answer me, what's the difference this time!"

"The difference is, you didn't know I was back so if anything happened between you-"

"Did you think I would give in to her because you were away?" he accused, his eyebrows raised.

The rational Y/N knew this would never happen but this wasn't the normal Y/N, this was the jealous one, the one who was insecure, who was feeling threatened.

"I know your job requires some sacrifices." she shrugged, ducking her head. "I know these things happen in this business."

She hated to imagine that kind of thing but it was the truth. Baekhyun took the opportunity to approach her cautiously. "And the fact that I'm completely in love with you didn't cross your mind?" he spoke low, with a smile wanting to appear but Y/N kept her head down.

How to explain without sounding like a fool? She did not know.

But she was upset because even if those kinds of things happened, unfortunately she would understand.

Baekhyun took advantage of her silence and grabbed her chin, making her lift her head to look at him, when she did he wiped her tears with his thumb.

"I can't even look at another woman the way I look at you." he spoke sincerely and she just sniffed, trying to stop crying. "You have no reason to be jealous."

"I know but I can't help it." she admitted and Baekhyun smirked, pulling her towards him.

Y/N let her body be led by him, Baekhyun wrapped both arms around her waist in an almost hug that she missed so much, a few days away from him and it seemed like years had passed. Baekhyun got close enough to kiss her forehead, she just closed her eyes already feeling her legs give way.

"You" he kissed the tip of her nose "are one" he kissed her cheek "in a million" he kissed her chin and the breath so close to Y/N's mouth made her sigh, longing for what would come next. "I wouldn't be dumb to leave you for a deal." Y/N opened her eyes and found Baekhyun's sincere eyes staring at her intently, and he looked as anxious as she did, so much so that his eyes dropped suggestively to her lips, that she had to wet them with her own tongue. "I missed you." she whispered as he brought his face closer, bringing his lips an inch from hers. “Not more than me." he said before bringing their lips together in a kiss full of passion and apology. Taking away any trace of insecurity that might have been left over from Y/N.

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