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owliellder · 8 months

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circling back to this finally!

i'm so sorry i wasn't able to do this sooner. i was gonna write it out yesterday but i was busy surviving a tummy ache on top of a 60 hour work week.

i tried to make this super duper sweet for you. forgive me, my sweet anon 💔

ID! Leon x Pregnant! Reader

MDNI 18+

Pregnancy was more than difficult.

Day in and out you hoped your pregnancy would be easy like your friends' had been, but of course you can't always get what you want.

Dealing with everything you didn't want to happen was more than frustrating, and for the first seven months, Leon was constantly being pulled away from you to work.

However, that man was incredibly helpful when he was home, doting on you as if you'd break at the slightest breeze. The most amazing person you could ever ask for.

Swollen ankles, strong food cravings, intense mood swings, horrible morning sickness which is not limited to just the morning, and the overall struggle to perform basic tasks was hard to handle, physically and emotionally. Everything would be so much better if you just had more of Leon.

Closing in on the eight-month mark, he was finally able to take leave, those months of stressing his need to be at home with you ultimately paying off in the end.

From there, you were taken care of. Everything you asked for, you got. You wanted a large pizza at three in the morning? No problem. Need help getting your socks on in the morning? You don't even need to ask. Can you get a back massage? Is that even a question?

You were never afraid to ask Leon for anything, expect for one thing. The need for this specific thing had been growing throughout your pregnancy and you weren't really expecting it to, hoping it would simply come and go. That thing that you were dreading bringing up to him was sex.

Understandably, it was a hard topic to approach, seeing as the man would treat you like expensive china. And no matter how many times he told you, that nagging voice in the back of your head was constantly whispering negative insults about yourself; you're overweight, you're too needy, you complain too much, etc.

Thinking about asking would always lead to you crying and that freaked Leon out, immediately rushing to make sure you were okay. That really only made you cry more. He was so unbelievably sweet and kind, how could you think so low of him to say no to such a simple request like sex?

You always refused to tell him why you were crying, brushing it off as hormones or maybe you just saw a video of the cutest kitten being rescued. You'd cried over similar things, so it was easy to excuse.

Though you'd been able to ignore the urge for quite some time, you couldn't ignore it forever.

The baby had you up at odd hours of the night to waddle into the bathroom, waking Leon in the process since the guy is the lightest sleeper ever. It never failed to make you cry, apologizing for waking him, to which he would just gently shush you while helping you to and from the toilet.

After one such bathroom trip, you couldn't fall back asleep, doing your best to ignore that feeling breaking away at your composure.

"Leon? Are you still awake?" You suddenly whispered, looking away from your phone to study him for any sort of movement.

"Mm.. mhm.." He breathed in through his nose as he rolled onto his side to face you, eyes squinting from the glow of your phone. "What's up baby?"

All you could do was stare, silently working up the courage to ask. Your need was too hard to ignore now, and that deep, sleepy voice of his wasn't helping. "I-... can I ask you for something?"

Leon nodded and slowly lifted himself up, resting his head in his hand as he propped himself up with his elbow. "You don't need to ask, just let me know what you need and I'll do it. Or get it."

"You have to promise me you won't laugh, okay?" You placed your phone down on your stomach, screen side down.

Leon pursed his lips, raising an eyebrow. "I promise."

"Is it-.." You paused, running one of your hands over the top of the other nervously. You didn't really think this far ahead, so forming the question was proving difficult. "Uh.. would it be weird if I asked for sex right now..?"

His soft laugh broke the silence and that only made you even more nervous. "You said you wouldn't laugh!"

"I know, I know! I'm sorry, I just think you're funny." Leon lifted himself up so he was now sitting up next to you, scooting closer in the process. "It's not weird to ask." His voice remained low and smooth, which did help calm your nerves. If only a little.

"Are you sure it's not weird? Cause I've been having urges for months and-" You were cut off by his hand suddenly grabbing yours, stopping you from fidgeting. "You've been having urges for months? And you didn't tell me?"

The question itself was definitely not meant to come off as mean, but regardless it was bringing you close to tears, bottom lip quivering as you tried to apologize once more.

"No- hey, hey c'mon.. I would never say no to you, sweetheart." He brought his hand up to stroke you cheek, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb.

"But-" You tried again only to be cut off again. "No buts. You're perfect, I love you, and I want you." He leaned over and kissed the tip of your nose before planting a tender kiss to your lips.

You gave Leon a weak smile before you let him take off your nightgown and lay you down, lifting up a bit so he could slip his pillow underneath you to cradle the small of your back. He triple checked that you were comfortable, running his hands along the swell of your belly.

Such tender touches, such sweet kisses. This man provided you with everything you could possibly want, how did you end up so lucky?

Your underwear hasn't fit you since month six and maternity underwear felt a little constricting, so you've been going without them for awhile. Leon definitely didn't mind that.

"Wanting sex for months and never asked..." He shook his head with another soft laugh, dragging his rough hands up your body to massage your swollen breasts which made you gasp. "I'll never be able to resist you."

He squeezed your breasts and pinched your nipples, letting out sounds akin to growls as he watched your milk-filled breasts leak at his ministrations. "Been wanting to play with these since you bought those pumps. Making me jealous of them."

His gravely voice was hitting all the right spots in your brain. "Leon.. please.." You whined, biting at your bottom lip in a poor attempt to hide your increased sensitivity.

"So pretty for me. Always so beautiful." He bent over you, careful of your stomach, to bring one of your nipples into his mouth. The vibration of his moan made you cry out, hands flying into his hair. He sucked and swirled his tongue around it, eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated.

Leon pulled off with a loud pop, swallowing with a sigh before moving over to your other nipple, repeating the process over. By the time he was done taking his fill of your milk, you were a crying, drooling mess. You gave up hiding your pitiful noises as soon as you started trying.

"Tastes so good.." Leon groaned, giving both of your nipples one last harsh suck before kissing his way down your stomach to your dripping pussy.

For a brief moment you were embarrassed at the fact that you hadn't shaved, you hadn't been able to since your stomach masked the view that you needed. Yet, he said nothing but the sweetest things as he stroked through your folds with his finger, bringing it into his mouth before quickly descending between your legs.

He groaned into your cunt, lapping at your entrance and clit like it was the last thing he'd ever do. You were soaked, he couldn't just pass up getting a good taste of you.

"Fuck! Leon- ah~!" You moaned as he sucked on your clit, making sure he paid extra attention to it. He sat back on his legs with a content sigh, giving your pussy a few extra rubs with his fingers before sinking the entirety of his middle finger into you. Before you knew it, he was stretching you with two. "Couldn't fuck you without giving this neglected pussy a little extra attention.."

He was so skillful with his fingers, stretching you out like it was an art, but you were desperate to have him deep in you, aching to your core. "N-no more-.. gah.. I need more.. please Leon..."

"Yeah? You need more?" Leon cooed, thrusting his fingers in you a few more times before slowly pulling them out. "Need my cock deep in that cunt?" Feeling him grind his dick against your slick folds was torture. He knew just how badly you needed it and he *still* decided to tease you.

"Yes! Please! God, please.." Your moan fell to a whimper as he carefully pushed the tip of his dick into you, pausing for a moment to rub the tops of your thighs as they trembled with your orgasm. "Poor thing, just feels that good huh?"

One of Leon's hands on your face brought you to open your eyes again. You didn't even realize you started crying until he wiped them from your temple. You could only nod, leaning your head against his hand as he sunk deeper into you.

Once he was flush against you, you both let out a sigh, sitting still so he could caress your body. His hands felt so good against your hot skin, eyes falling back closed as he massaged your breasts for a minute.

It wasn't long before he started to thrust into you, his slow place quickly frustrating you. "Faster, Leon- ngh~.. I-.. I'm not gonna break I promise!" You whined, panting in between words.

"You're perfect." Leon wasn't going to pass up a request like that, immediately beginning to pound your sloppy cunt once his hands settled on the barely visible divots from your hips. "Feel so good around me, baby~..."

You were incredibly sensitive from already having came once and his brutal pace was bringing you close to another. He knew just what angle to hit at and just what to say to get you right back to that edge.

You felt amazing with Leon taking care of you like this. Even as your body changed, he still made you feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.

"That's it, ohhh, there ya go baby~.. Fuck that's hot.." Leon grunted as you came again, your walls clamping around him. He leaned back a bit to watch his cock disappear into your cunt as he neared his own high. "Gonna cum baby, shit, I'm gonna cum-" He spilled his seed deep inside you with a long, drawn out moan, gripping onto you tightly as his thrusts slowed to a stop.

After catching his breath, he let out an airy laugh, bending over to kiss right above your belly button before pulling out of you.

"I promised I would take care of you, didn't I?" He whispered against your skin, and you nodded with a small hum. "Right. So the next time you want me to fuck you, please don't be afraid to jump my bones."

You couldn't help but let out a laugh of your own, placing your arm over your eyes. If you knew pregnancy sex would be this good, you would've asked him ages ago.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

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WIBTA for telling someone i can't be friends with them and returning a gift?

buckle up gamers, this is gonna be a long one. so i (22nb but i present fem) was out at the bars the other night just kinda hanging out, and a girl (26f) came up and started talking to me. she didnt really seem...super present i guess? and i talked to her to be nice and she had a cool outfit on. well i was a little drunk and ended up giving her my phone number and meeting her husband (39m) and they walked me home. the whole time she was talking about how she doesn't have any friends and her ex friends just wanted to get with her husband. she told me she was bi and i was like hey me too but im not interested in sex so that was cool. she ended up walking me home w her husband bc it was late which was nice, but they seemed really shocked i lived in such a nice apartment(i do, its expensive but my parents pay for it. im really privileged to be able to do that).

i saw her again today because she kept texting me about wanting to hang out, so i went for ice cream with her bc it was in a public place and i wasnt super comfortable going back to her apt with her. i paid for her ice cream bc she said her card wasnt working, nbd bc my parents have money and her and her husband aren't really well off. i said she could pay me back sometime, buy me ice cream or whatever another day, but she really fixated on it. she told me her husband thought i was cute which made me a little uncomfortable but i laughed it of, and then she kept talking about how she was bi and would date a girl and how she approached me not to date but to be a friend and then 'see where it goes.' she also told me she did porn online to make money which is fine w me, that she's on disability but that the money isnt really enough to live on, and that she'd been raped in the past and drugged which yanno a little overshare-y considering ive known her for three days but she really seemed like she needed someone to talk to and im good at listening. well her husband showed up out of nowhere bc he apparently tracks her phone and we all went back to their apartment bc i couldn't say no(im a doormat. i know) and she ended up giving me two pieces of jewelry in return for buying her ice cream which felt a little like overkill. i tried to refuse but she said she wouldn't ever wear them again so it would be fine. it was really kind of her but now i kind of feel i owe her back for them. the whole time i was there they seemed really eager to get me to move in nearby, and while its true that area is definitely cheaper my parents are really fine paying for my expensive apartment bc my tuition is a lot cheaper than my sibling's. she and her husband walked me home again, mentioning they might be going on a cruise in november if they could save up the money and that they could bring a friend. i said id almost definitely have school which they seemed to accept. they kind of seemed to want to see my place, but i told them it was really messy(it is) i have anxiety around having people in my space(i do) and that maybe they could come up another day and i could make dinner, and she told me she didn't like people cooking for her bc she'd been drugged in the past and that i could go over to their apartment again instead.

my parents think theres some really big red flags going on and i should try to break this off sooner rather than later. i pretty much agree. im not gonna ghost her and they dont think i should either, but that i should somehow return the jewelry in a kind way and tell her i cant really be super close friends. my mom had the idea to draw myself wearing the jewelry and then say i still have a memory of it but to return it bc i cant accept such a nice gift which i could try to do.

to be clear i am shit at communication and setting boundaries, im very aware of that, and most of this can be solved by telling her hey i can't accept this gift and im really busy for school a lot and im sorry i cant be as much as a friend as you need. but i still kinda feel like tah for leading her on almost and then breaking it off like everyone else in her life. ive been under a lot of stress bc of school and my stepgrandmother passing and trying to take care of my grandfather so trying to be friends with someone that seems kind of high maintenance is not really tenable for me.

so, wibta if i tried to let her down gently?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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ginnsbaker · 11 months

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In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (4/?)

Chapter summary: The night at the club - from your perspective. And we find out whether you came to the opening of Wanda's cafe or not

Chapter word count: 6.3k+

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader (heavy on this chapter)

Tags: fluff if you squint (did I just say fluff?)

AO3 | Masterlist

Next Chapter: Five

Four

The night at the club - from your perspective

The club Clint chooses for Natasha’s send-off is a drug deal away from being sleazy, despite its popularity. It’s significantly larger too, than the typical nightclubs you’ve been to in the past; there's a mezzanine for VIP members and celebrity guests; three bars are stationed at the corners of the main room, selling beverages based on a price bracket–with the most expensive ones near the steps leading to the VIP area. In here, you find all kinds of party-goers–from preppy high school kids with their daddy’s money and fake IDs to aging business men looking to score a high-end escort or a B-list actress in need of a sponsor for their lavish lifestyle.

And then there’s you–newly single, unemployed, nearing your 30s and rooming with your best friend. Just with how you’re dressed–a white, velvet sleeveless cowl neck top and skinny jeans–you wonder what other people think of you, what backstory they’ve concocted in their heads. Whatever it is, it couldn’t be worse than your actual reality.

“How did you find this place?” you ask Clint after he returns with shots of tequila to start the night with.

He glances between you and then Natasha, who finishes her shot in a single gulp the second she snatches it from Clint’s fingers.

“Did you not see how big this place is from outside? It’s hard to miss the biggest nightclub in New York, Y/N.” His breath fans over your face, and all it takes is one whiff to know he’s already had some pre-party drinks in his system.

“I prefer the dive bars we used to frequent.” you say, grimacing as the tequila burns down your throat. It immediately warms the middle of your chest, leaving you thirstier than before.

Clint raises his eyebrows at you incredulously. “We’re not here to talk and catch-up. We’re here to get trashed because our girl right here,” he playfully puts an arm around Natasha so she’s snug against his side. “Is returning to the front lines.”

“Damn right!” Natasha yells, raising her empty shot glass to no one in particular. She’s deadly as she looks for what she’s capable of–which you know very little about–and yet, astoundingly lightweight when it comes to holding her liquor. It wouldn’t take three more rounds to render her thoroughly incapacitated.

Clint looks so smug, and it doesn’t take a second more for you to realize that he gave Natasha a double. You weakly jab his side with your elbow and then proceed to swipe his credit card from his back pocket, making sure he at least pays for everything tonight.

“Come on,” you say, reaching for Natasha’s hand. “We can’t have you drinking on an empty stomach or you won’t last until midnight.”

Natasha shakes her head with a pout. “Gotta last much, much, much later than that.”

“For sure. But first, let’s–”

“Where are you taking my sister?” A voice behind you asks in a demanding but playful manner. You feel it being said right in your ear, causing goosebumps all over the back of your neck.

Whipping your head around, you find Yelena smiling at you as she staggers a step back to avoid you accidentally kissing her cheek in the process.

There’s tension from the last time you saw each other, and it becomes instantly obvious that it hasn’t gone away the moment you take in her plunge cocktail dress and the rose-colored smirk she has on. You don’t really mean to, but it’s easy to make the conclusion that anyone would easily find her the most attractive person in the room.

“Little sis,” Natasha exclaims in barely contained excitement, hastily enveloping Yelena in a bear hug. “You came!”

“Hey,” you breathe out, failing to stop your gaze from straying below her collarbone and landing on her proud cleavage.

“Hey, stranger.” she greets you back, and you catch the mischievous smile on her lips despite having half of her face squashed against Natasha’s shoulder. Yup. She’s definitely noticed.

“See you around, kid. I’ll take care of this one.” Clint says, already pulling Natasha away before she can suffocate Yelena further.

Helplessly, you watch Clint and Natasha disappear into the crowd, anxiety crippling your ability to decide what you’re going to do or where you’re going next.

Yelena lightly taps you on the shoulder to get your attention–which, for all intents and purposes–is already hers to begin with. You just don’t want to be too obvious about it.

“My sweater.” she simply says with an unreadable expression when you turn to address her.

“Sorry?”

“You still have it?”

And then it comes back to you. Your ruined shirt, borrowing’s Yelena sweater, Yelena joking about her first sexual experience, that happened to be with you–

You can always blame the tequila for the way your cheeks flush at the memories.

Biting your lip, you say, “The truth is I forgot to mail it. With everything that’s happened–”

“It’s okay. Nat just recently told me the stuff you went through the past few months,” Yelena cuts in, and the softness in her gaze gives you a sense of calm. “Do you, maybe, want to drink about it? First round’s on me.” she reluctantly offers.

“Nah,” you dismiss her intentions to pay, as you hold up Clint’s Visa. “All our rounds on this.”

Yelena orders a frozen margarita, while you opt for a more basic choice of gin and tonic. You find yourselves sitting closely together, sharing a couch with random strangers in the most relatively secluded part of the club.

“So, what exactly did Natasha tell you?” you ask, letting your index finger dance along the rim of your glass.

Yelena takes a sip of her drink and considers how she should relay what she knows.

In the end, she goes for the unfiltered narrative, given that there’s really no way of making it sound less severe than it is. “That your wife cheated on you with her student.”

You offer her a wan smile and clink your drinks togethers. “Cheers.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t imagine what it feels like to be betrayed like that by the person you–I assume–trust the most.” Yelena says after some time. She’s not used to being the one to give consolation, especially with you. Growing up, you were a steady, ever-reliable presence in her life; her place of solitude throughout the pains of her youth. It’s pathetic how she’s wishing she had gone through the same ordeal if it meant she could give you the comfort and understanding you needed.

“Me too. I don’t even remember how I was able to survive what came right after taking your sister’s call that day. Did Nat mention that I almost killed the kid? He’s only a little younger than you are.” you say.

“Yeah. It’s fucked up. But it doesn't compare to what she did.” Yelena tells you with a pained expression. “You’re okay now, though. Right?”

“I’m,” You search for the right word that perfectly describes your monotonous routine and lack of a meaningful purpose. But you figure that there’s no need for Yelena–or anyone for that matter–to worry about you. Life’s easier to live without the concern of disappointing people who care about you. “I’m better than I was yesterday.”

Yelena nods empathically, and places a hand on your knee. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Your smile is small, but genuine. Clearing your throat, she quickly puts her hand back over her lap.

“Y/N?” Yelena starts.

“Yes?”

Yelena, for all her boldness and tenacity, has to put down her glass lest it accidentally slips from her shaking hands.

“There’s something I want to say, and you can’t talk unless I say so. Understood?” she says as calmly as she can manage.

“Am I free to react?” A smile plucks at the corner of your mouth, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Yelena has grown into a woman so different from when she was just Natasha’s little sister. She carries an air of sophistication, and from what you can tell, sasses her way out of difficult situations and knows what and how to get what she wants. Which is why it’s refreshing to see her display glimpses of the shy girl who spent her summers burning through classic literature in the public library.

A husky laugh escapes Yelena’s throat. “As long as it’s a good reaction.” she says.

You playfully roll your eyes at her.

“But seriously, hear me out,” Yelena breathes steadily through her nose. “First of all, I want to apologize about what happened when you were at my apartment.

“I didn’t know why I brought up losing my virginity to you, and it was terribly awkward–for me especially because the look on your face was…” Yelena trails off, pointedly avoiding your curious eyes. “It’s like you were recalling a bad memory–a memory that’s dear to me. And to be honest, it hurt me a bit.”

“Yelena–”

Yelena shushes you with a finger. “Let me finish. I was hurt, but I understood that I crossed a line that day. I was flirting with you the whole time knowing you were married. In a way, I was no better than–well, your ex-wife.”

Yelena pauses to look at you. She can’t read your expression, but at least you haven’t run away yet. Which is more than a good sign for her to continue.

“There’s no excuse for what I did. I could dismiss it as friendly between old friends, but could we even call ourselves that? We were never just friends. We had something that wasn’t official, and then I ran off to the UK before we had a chance to talk about that thing that wasn’t official, and then when I got back, I found out you’re already with someone else.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is… that was a shitty move on my part and I’m sorry. But I’d be lying if I said I didn't mean to do any of that. ‘Cause I did want to stir the pot just to see if there’s still something there.”

You wait for her to continue, but eventually Yelena vaguely signals that she’d done speaking.

You cover your mouth with your hand, thumb scratching lightly at your chin as you thoroughly digest her confession.

“Y/N?” Yelena asks when she feels you’re being silent for too long, fear lacing her voice. “Are you mad at me?”

“Of course not,” you quickly reply. “I accept your apology. And I do appreciate your candor–for not skirting around that incident like I probably would’ve, for…well, forever.”

Yelena is overwhelmed with relief.

“You were never great at confrontations.” she muses, and your minds both wander to the letter you wrote for her that she had missed, already having boarded the plane when you decided to drop by and hand-deliver it yourself.

“I’m working on it. I know I can’t keep putting things at the back of my head until I eventually forget them and then it’s too late.”

“Or maybe you just think it’s too late, and you use that as an excuse to not even try.” Yelena counters. It’s a fair point and somehow applicable to your shared history together.

“You know what? I’m just gonna shoot my shot here while I’m feeling brave,” Yelena says, keeping her eyes trained on her almost empty drink.

“Go to dinner with me next Friday.”

Before you can stop it, Wanda’s languid face in the mornings registers in your brain fleetingly. And then you blink once and the image of her is gone, replaced by Yelena’s hopeful stare.

“Dinner, as in…” you try to clarify, just in case you’re misreading it.

“As in I’m asking you out,” Yelena confirms, and proudly smiles at how your ears redden at this point. “Or if you’re not ready, say so. I’m a big girl. I can take it. Then I’ll ask you again in a few months.”

“I-I don’t know. Can I sleep on it?” you say, suddenly embarrassed.

“Take all the time you need. I just thought you should know that I’m an option.”

Your expression turns grim once you question the fact that someone like Yelena wants you.

She senses your internal conflict and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“How could you want me? I’m damaged goods. You know that, right?”

“Y/N,” Yelena chides, and she looks positively horrified. “Don’t you ever think you’re half the person you are just because somebody was stupid enough not to know your worth.”

You shrug your shoulders. There’s no point in arguing. Regardless of what other people think, it’s what you see in the mirror these days.

“Okay.” you mumble in reply and casually chug your drink to the last drop.

Yelena’s not convinced, but recognizes that it’s not the right place nor the right time to show you you’re more than just damaged goods.

“Okay.” she says, then looks over to where people seem to be under the spell of eternal bliss.

“Wanna dance with me at least? You know–as friends,” Yelena says, and then a second later adds, “For now.”

You don’t answer and merely allow yourself to be pulled towards writhing bodies moving to the beat of the music, like puppets on strings.

You don’t remember the last time you’ve thoroughly enjoyed dancing with someone.

(That’s a lie though, because you do; if twirling your wife and enthusiastically swaying to her poor singing in the kitchen counts.)

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of green eyes darts to you and your dance partner, before they shut in reprieve.

A surprisingly sober Natasha appears next to you as you’re getting the next round of drinks. You fan yourself uselessly with your hand after breaking out a sweat on the dancefloor.

“Hey! Where have you been?” you say.

“Bruce was here. But that’s not important.” Natasha says.

“Are you guys–” you begin to ask about it, but Natasha brazenly cuts you off.

“Don’t even think about it.” she says, her tone unusually stern, and you whip your head so fast in her direction your vision spins a little.

“Think about what?” you say.

“Flirting with my sister.”

“I wasn’t,” you say and Natasha lifts an eyebrow. “I swear.”

Natasha surveys you a while longer with an unreadable expression, and just as you start feeling uncomfortable, she backs off with a small nod.

It only bothers you more. “I-Is that something I’m not allowed to do?” you cautiously ask.

Natasha scratches at her nape. “Technically, you’re single now and you can flirt with whoever you want. But maybe not my sister, okay? I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“What are you implying?”

“Look, Y/N, I’m just trying to give you the big sister talk, and I hope you understand why I need to. Especially since Yelena told me not long ago about the R-rated version of your history together.”

Your mouth falls open in shock, already circling around the details of what Yelena might have shared with your best friend. “She what?”

“I wanted to smack you in the face when she told me that you were…” Natasha grimaces, trying not to imagine you in bed with her sister. “... her first.”

“God, Nat. I–” Your tongue feels heavy, and you wish you weren’t half-sober for this. “She–we–”

“Relax, Y/N. It’s not like I found out about it yesterday. I’ve known ever since she came back to New York.”

“I think I’d prefer if you’d still smack me in the face right now. But please consider how tiny I am compared to your usual sparring partners.”

Natasha lets out an airy laugh that gives you a bit of relief. “To be honest, I think I’ve always known that there was something going on between you and her. I was just too stubborn to admit it because I care about you both so much.”

“I care about you too. And Yelena.”

“I believe you,” Natasha says. “But Yelena thinks you hung the moon and stars and all that shit, and you’re–you’re kind of a mess, Y/N. No offense.”

“Do you want me to stay away from her?” you ask.

“Not really. But as her older sister, I need to remind you to think about it carefully if ever it becomes more than platonic.” she says. “I’m leaving in a few hours, so I need you to promise me not to be reckless. That's all I’m asking.”

Natasha gives and gives and gives, and rarely ever asks for anything.

And you suppose you owe it to her in some way.

“Promise.”

A couple of more shots (and an incident of restraining Natasha from punching the lights out of a guy who randomly grabbed your ass) later, you’re stumbling out of the club, reeking of smoke, sweat and alcohol.

Your phone dies just before you could confirm a ride, and you blearily stare at it like you’re expecting it to suddenly come alive again by some miracle. Yelena has left earlier, mentioning an early meeting at work, and you can’t find Natasha since Bruce’s surprise appearance. An option is to walk to your apartment, but you can’t seem to move any part of your body with the intense throbbing in your head.

You deliberate your fate for the night, until you feel an odd sensation of being watched.

Your eyes flit across the street and there she is.

Wanda Maximoff.

You get home safely with the help of your ex-wife. Once you reach your room, you don’t bother to brush your teeth or wash your face. You just mechanically strip down to your underwear before diving under the covers.

In your sleep, you dream about Wanda.

Dream Wanda resembles College Wanda, with her dirty blonde hair that falls in waves past her shoulders. She’s cradling your head on her lap, while you look up at her lovingly.

“Wands,” you whisper. “I miss you.”

She scrunches her nose as she smiles down at you. “I’m right here, baby.”

“You’re not.”

“Where did I go then?”

You shake your head and close your eyes. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Look for me, then. I only want to be found by you.”

“I’m not sure I want to.” you confess to Dream Wanda, and her brows stitch together into a frown. Then you feel something wet and cold drip on your cheeks. Your eyes flutter open but instead of seeing Wanda, you see Vision’s face covered in blood.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream. In reality, you’re alone in Natasha’s apartment, thrashing in your bed and mumbling incoherently.

The next morning, you don’t recall any of it, but you feel its echoes in your heart anyway.

You wake up to a text from Natasha, telling her that she’s already at the airport. The message came in at 1:30AM, and was followed by another text six hours later, saying that she has landed safely and that you won’t be hearing from her again in the next ten days at the minimum. A third message came in a second after that, and it simply read, “Look out for my sister. Don’t forget what you promised.” You text back a short “Take care, Nat.”, before tossing your phone somewhere on your unmade bed.

Trudging towards the kitchen, you think about Yelena.

There was a time when the blonde used to occupy your thoughts day and night, notwithstanding the thousands of miles you were apart.

But all that changed the day you met Wanda, and she never crossed your mind again except when she’d come up in conversations, and until that time you accidentally almost ran her over in Soho.

You languidly stir together the milk and cereal in your bowl. It would be a lie to say that seeing Yelena, especially in that dress, didn’t do things to you that a married woman would normally stamp out before they could spread like wildfire. Except, you’re no longer a married woman. And Yelena let you look as much as you wanted–even encouraged it.

It’s liberating more than anything, not because you’re free from the confines of marriage, but because you didn’t feel guilty having looked.

Is it time?

You’ve always thought of Yelena as your ‘right person, wrong time’.

Is it the right time?

The weekend passes in a blur of series marathons and Chinese takeouts. Wanda doesn’t text or call, neither does Yelena. You thought you had sufficient time to reconsider Wanda’s invitation, but Monday eventually comes around, bringing about an unexplainable anxiety you can’t curb and can only attribute to intuition. Even if you don’t tell Wanda the reason you won’t come, binge-watching another show instead of doing something meaningful for someone is at a level of pathetic you’re not willing to stoop towards.

Besides, you said you’d come. Being steadfast in your word is both your strength and your undoing. And so, your intent to follow through with your promise brings you to a corner gardening store, after scouring the internet for ‘grand opening gift ideas’.

None of them suggested this. Though you knew Wanda enough to know better than those online articles.

“And this pretty thing? What does it stand for?” you ask, pointing at flowers of a variety of colors resembling a pompon.

“That’s a Chrysanthemum–or just ‘mums’. Very easy to keep them alive. In Chinese culture, it represents longevity and good luck. But it also simply symbolizes friendship and happiness.” the store keeper says.

“Perfect,” you say, focusing on ‘longevity and good luck’. “I’ll get… Five of those in a pot.”

“What color would you like, dear?”

Without thinking, you pick Wanda’s favorite color. “The red ones. All of them.”

The store keeper claps her hands together. “Excellent choice. Just give me a second to prepare them for you.”

A pleased smile works its way to your lips. “Thanks a lot.”

Mums in a pot. That's a good gift right? Not too thoughtful nor impersonal. It would look good displayed anywhere in her shop should Wanda decide to keep it there. Or she can place it at her new home near a window, as it probably needs six hours of sunlight a day.

Perhaps you should also write instructions for Wanda on how to care for these mums. And will she need some fertilizers too?

You’re busy putting together a mental list when the store keeper comes out with the final product.

“Here you go,” she says and hands you over Wanda’s gift in a paper bag. “It’s $95.86.”

You pull out a hundred dollar bill from your wallet. “Keep the change.”

She does a little bow of gratitude and says, “Thank you, dear. She’s going to love it.”

“She?” you sputter, bewildered.

“The recipient’s a lady, I assume. Is it not?”

“It…is.” you hesitantly confirm.

“Good luck, ma’m.” she says with innocent cheer, unmindful of your sudden skepticism.

As you leave the shop feeling less sure of your gift choice, your phone’s ringing tone goes off in your pants. With urgency, you take your phone out of your pocket and find an unknown number calling.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” A husky voice greets you over the receiver.

“Yelena?”

“Hey. I, uh, got your number from Nat,” she says, hearing her heavy sighs in between sentences. “Is this a bad time?”

“No. Is something wrong?” you ask, swinging the paper bag back and forth as you meander about the busy alley on your way back home.

“I’m in the middle of a news article that’s due for tomorrow, and I heard that your former boss is Scott Lang?”

“You heard right.”

“I need your banking knowledge to go over some facts in my draft,” she says. “And maybe, get a quick interview with Mr. Lang?”

For a while, you don’t know how to answer. You haven’t been in touch with Scott or any of your colleagues since moving back, and it seems kind of rude to call him up out of the blue for a favor.

“Please?” you hear Yelena beg softly. You knew Yelena. Like Natasha, she almost never asks for help, not unless it’s a matter of life, death or career.

“Okay,” you finally say. “Where should we meet?”

“I’ll meet you at Nat’s in an hour? It’s where you’ve been staying, right?”

You agree on the time and place, and hurry to catch a bus instead of your original plan to walk the thirty minutes back to the apartment.

It oddly feels good to be part of a Monday’s morning rush once again.

You end up spending the whole day helping Yelena and trailing after her to visit various places and meet financial executives just to put together a 1,500-word news article on The Wall Street Journal.

“You saved me today,” Yelena tells you while you escort her to the lobby. “Let me make it up to you on Friday?”

It’s tempting, especially after discovering that you both make a great team. You actually had fun running errands with her.

But you promised Natasha.

“I’ll text you.” you answer with a small smile.

Once Yelena gets inside her ride, it hits you right away where you’re supposed to be. You check your watch and the time displayed sends you in a panic.

It’s almost ten. Wanda’s café is only open until nine. You quickly grab your gift for Wanda and hail a cab for Queens.

Your cab screeches to a halt right in front of Second Chances. You make sure to tip big for forcing your driver to beat the speed limit several times on the way.

You get off the cab, and take in your first impression of Wanda’s café. The facade of the coffee shop is simple: the signage looks obviously hand-drawn, while the black awning underneath it gives it a Parisian vibe; a string of yellow led lights hang above the glass door and the full-length window next to it.

It has Wanda written all over it. And you can’t help the teary smile that creeps its way to your lips. Carrying the potted Chrysanthemum securely under your arm, you walk to the entrance that holds a ‘Sorry, We’re Closed’ sign. The stainless shutter is lowered down just barely, and it’s pitch black inside except for a beam of light coming from the back room.

You raise your fist, about to knock, when suddenly you catch a figure from the corner of your eyes.

It’s Wanda, and she’s asleep with her arms as her pillow, hunched over the bar table facing the window. Curiously, you move over to stand right across her and push your palm against the translucent barrier.

She waited for you to show. Your heart betrays you as it thumps wildly in your chest.

For a moment you just stand there watching. There are still days when you randomly get angry at Wanda all over again. Some days, you bargain and simultaneously undergo depression. And you cycle over these stages in random orders but haven't–not even once–felt like you’re ready to accept all of it.

Somewhere in the stillness, an ambulance siren could be heard wailing in the distance. Wanda is slow to come to, and even as you realize she’s waking up, you stay frozen in your position.

“Y/N?” you read your name being spoken from her lips. Wanda looks confused in her sleepy state, still deciding if you’re actually there. You beam at her and mouth a ‘hi’ in return.

Wanda lights up right before your eyes. She hurries to unlock the door to her shop.

“Sorry I’m late.” you say.

Wanda’s smile only widens, and then she says, “Better late than never.”

You choose to sit at one of the tiny dining tables for two near the open kitchen. There are congratulatory flowers arranged neatly by the counter, making you a bit self-conscious about bringing something similar on a smaller, more insignificant scale.

“How long have you been waiting?” you ask as you survey the interior of the cafe..

“Not long.” Wanda assures you, and then proudly hands you over the menu. Her writing is almost instantly recognizable.

“Pick anything you want. On the house.” she says, tying back her apron.

There aren’t many items on the list, but you’re familiar with each of them from Wanda having made them for you over the years.

“I’ll have a Spanish latte,” you say, eyes still scanning the menu. “Do you have any cookies left?”

“Sorry, they are all sold out.”

“Wanda, that’s awesome!” You exclaim, placing the menu back on the table.

Wanda endearingly chuckles at your excitement. You’re still a customer, and it’s very unusual for one to cheer when the item they want is unavailable.

“Have you eaten? I can whip something up.” Wanda says, peeking inside the fridge.

You haven’t eaten since lunch, but you don’t want Wanda to go through the trouble of preparing something off the menu. “It’s fine.”

“I’m kinda hungry myself,” Wanda chews on her bottom lip. “Does garlic pasta sound good?”

As if on cue, your stomach rumbles and Wanda tries to suppress a smirk.

“Sounds amazing.” you mumble, somewhat flustered by the sound you just made. The thought of a warm pasta for dinner, however, is already making you drool.

Wanda grins, buzzing with childlike enthusiasm. “Coming right up!”

Right before she gets to it, Wanda puts on some music and gives you her phone. “Play anything you want.” she says. A classical piano piece starts playing in the background, and it actually matches the mood and the vibe of the room, so you choose to stay on the current playlist.

Wanda already has some minced garlic and left over pasta from earlier, so it’s just a matter of reheating and then mixing the ingredients. In less than ten minutes, she’s bringing out two plates of Aglio e Olio and your order of a hot Spanish latte.

You haven’t realized how starving you are until the aroma of Wanda’s dish reaches your nose.

“What’s that?” Wanda points to the paper bag sitting beside you after she settles in her seat across you.

“Oh!” you say. “I almost forgot. This is for you. Happy, uh, grand opening day?”

Wanda takes the bag, unintentionally brushing your fingers in the process. Her skin is warm from cooking and smells like the condiments she used to prepare your food.

You quietly eat your food, unable to keep yourself from moaning out your satisfaction. After months of living on takeouts, it’s a very welcome change.

Wanda, on the other hand, peers inside the paper bag, and her smile grows and grows until it reaches her watery eyes.

“These are gorgeous, Y/N,” Wanda comments, taking the pot out of its hiding. “I love them. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Wanda stands up and walks towards the window near the entrance, the plant and a glass of water in tow. She places the mums in the corner where it will be least bothered by customers, but should receive the most sunlight at the same time. She then proceeds to water it, careful to cover the whole soil and sprinkle some on its delicate petals.

A smile graces your lips as you watch her tend to the mums.

It’s hard not to wonder if maybe this could work. Maybe healing can be possible while being friends.

“How much do I owe you?” you ask, after you finish your food. You subtly eye Wanda’s plate, which she’s barely touched.

“Like I said, on the house.” she answers.

You purse your lips in disapproval but don’t insist; the tip jar is right beside the register and you can slip some twenties later when Wanda’s not looking.

“So, any feedback? Is the latte too sweet?” Wanda asks with a devoted curiosity of a businesswoman. “For the pasta I added an extra ounce of minced garlic from the original recipe, but I’m not sure if it made the flavor too strong. And this table–don’t you think it’s too small? Cause they don’t look standard-sized to me, and I keep telling them–”

“Wanda, slow down,” you gently cut in, bringing the coffee mug to your lips for a taste test. It’s sweet but not achingly so. There’s still a hint of bitterness in the aftertaste, and the richness of the condensed milk counters it, resulting in a very comforting pick-me-up.

“It’s good. I’d say, better than the ones I always got when I was still working.”

“You’re not working anymore?”

You bite your lip at that, not really meaning for that information to slip out of you.

“I took a sabbatical,” you explain, refusing to call yourself jobless in front of your ex-wife, who somehow contrived to achieve greater heights following a divorce and a narrowly missed small town sex scandal.

You quickly try to change the subject. “Anyway, don’t worry about the furniture. As long as they’re comfy.”

“Half of your ass is barely hanging onto your seat, you know?” Wanda points out with a giggle.

There’s no denying the tinge of jealousy you feel over the fact that Wanda seems to have her shit together more than she cares to admit. But that’s overruled by the natural joy of seeing someone you care about (because you do, you really still do) thrive, no matter how much they hurt you in the past.

“Are you saying my ass is fat?” you ask, pretending to be offended.

She laughs harder, resulting in tiny hiccups that never fails to trigger you into a fit as well.

“Honestly though, it barely fits mine as well. But that's all I can afford for now.” Wanda says as she keeps twirling the pasta around her fork without any intention of actually eating.

“You shouldn’t play with your food.” you chide, still smiling.

“Do you want some of mine?”

You shake your head no. “Not when you just implied I have a fat ass.”

Wanda snorts, her laughter building up again at your poker face.

When she recovers this time, you sheepishly smile and take some from her plate and transfer it to yours.

“I haven’t thanked you for coming.” Wanda mutters in a hoarse voice. You wordlessly fill her empty glass with water.

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure until this morning if I was going to.” you say.

Certain muscles on Wanda’s face visibly tighten at that.

“Why is that?” Wanda whispers, staring at her unwanted food, losing again the appetite she lied about in the first place.

You mull about it for a moment. There’s no point in denying that you feel things for Wanda. Abstract feelings that you can’t name, but feel regardless. And it’s still unclear whether they are beneficial or not to you moving forward. Just that, being in communication with Wanda again puts you at ease; brings back a sense of normalcy that you so crave. It could be because you can’t remember a time she wasn’t a part of your life, can’t remember who you were before her. Going cold-turkey only led to some impulsive decisions (not to mention, a cheap and random sex with a stranger who was spoken for).

“Because I want to do what’s right for me, this time. And I’m not sure if this is.”

“This?”

“Being in each other’s lives.” you coolly state, crossing your arms and leaning back on your chair.

Wanda blinks a couple of times when wetness gathers around her eyes. You drop your head and sigh. It goes without saying that these meetings with Wanda are always volatile. But constantly crying around someone is obviously not an indication of a healthy bond.

“I’m afraid you’re the only one who can answer your own question, Y/N.” Wanda swipes at the corner of her eyes.

You hollowly laugh. “I was kinda expecting you’d convince me that this is a good idea.”

“The fact that I invited you here and never stopped trying to contact you says alot without me having to say it.” Wanda reasons evenly.

“And me doing exactly the opposite, must also say a lot. Is that it?” you retort.

Wanda squints at your hard tone. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Well, it’s what I’m hearing.”

An impasse is reached, and Wanda wishes nothing more than to retract her statements and start all over again.

“Why do I keep fucking this up?” you’re scarcely able to hear Wanda talk, more directly to herself than you.

You release a ragged breath and speak out, “You’re not fucking up anything, Wanda. There’s nothing to fuck up in the first place because we’re not supposed to expect anything from each other anymore, remember?”

Wands nods in understanding. “It just feels like I keep saying the wrong thing.”

You consider her words for a moment. “Maybe it’s because I keep waiting for you to.”

Wanda looks up at you with wide, limpid eyes. “So I am walking on eggshells.”

“You don’t have to though. You can’t always worry about what will set me off. Let me worry about that.”

“I’m scared, Y/N,” Wanda whispers. “I’m scared I’ll say one wrong thing and I won’t hear from you again for a long time. I mean, I just… I just found you. Inadvertently, if I may add.”

“I-I get where you’re coming from, and I don’t blame you for feeling that way,” you say. “But I can’t promise that I won’t disappear when something happens.”

Wanda hums and you lick your lips.

“I have thought about it.” you say, in spite of the delicate timing.

She looks skeptical. “Thought about…?”

“Us,” you motion between yourself and her. “Being friends.”

“Oh,” Wanda tries not to sound disappointed. The problem is she wants too much too soon. And she needs to work on that or else she ruins her chance with you. “And?”

You’re nothing but truthful when you say, “And I miss the comfort of having you as a friend.”

“Me too,” Wanda whispers thickly as you both share a meaningful look.

Maybe someday, she can have everything she has lost.

Just not all at once.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #wanda maximoff #marvel #natasha romanoff #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova #unbetad #my writing #my fic #angst

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lemons4u · 6 months

Text

𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐓 ! - 𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒┊i’ve left you guys w nothing for so long 💔 so take this small series (multiple chapters) as a apology, hopefully you guys will forgive meeee— AND i’d like to add the kazuha smut isn’t gonna come out till the end of november or thee begging of december, anddd expect a albedo smau ❤️

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒┊fluff, suggestive (ofc, it’s written by pri, what else do u expect?), fem! reader, modern au, somewhat ooc alhaitham not rly though, AND CUTIE PATOOTIE READER… w a little attitude

“ come on alhaitham! it can’t hurt to try dating someone… ” kaveh tried to reason with him— claiming that he’d been single long enough and needed a relationship. ( also he is very attractive, and has chicks swarming all around him… you’d think he’d make the effort to start something with one of them… but! guess not! )

“ kaveh, i said no. i’m in no need of a reltionship— plus all these.. girls. ” he hesitated— thinking of a proper way to describe them.

“ their annoying, and clearly don’t care much for their studies.. i need a partner who actually has a brain. ” alhaitham said sourly.

“ ugh… ” kaveh pouted, “ brains aren’t everything, you know? if i were you i would’ve got a girlfriend already!! ”

“ i hope one day these girls realize you’ve got no personality and are rude and— and well, you know!”

“then they’ll realize what a true man is… ” he grinned. “ aka, me. ”

“ brains aren’t everything? i disagree… a persons brain is—”

“ shush! i don’t need one of your lectures about how blah blah means blah blah. ” kaveh scoffed, frowning once more.

“ one day you’re going to end up dating a no brainer, just because their pretty. ” alhaitham murmured, closing his book and leaning his head back on his seat.

“ and you’re gonna end up dating no one. ” kaveh snapped back.

“ fine by me. ” alhaitham said stoically, but to be honest… he did want to love someone eventually, but he wouldn’t admit that to kaveh.

“ you know what? if you can’t find anyone you like here at our uni… why not get a dating app! there’s plenty of smart people on those! ” kaveh exclaimed excitedly, desperate to get his “lonely” roommate a partner.

“ and get catfished? no thank you. ” alhaitham declined quickly… but seriously, a dating app might be a good idea— maybe he could meet someone at his intellectual level.. not some dumbass like all the girls here.

“ not everyone on dating apps are catfishers, come on! please try one! and i’ll pay you a visit to the library…!! ” kaveh pleaded. “ you don’t even have to date… you can just make a friend! ”

friend….? well he certainly needed more of those— as well as new books.

“ a visit to the bookstore, not library, and you have a deal. ” alhaitham tilted his head up at kaveh.

“ ugh… fine. just don’t buy too many books! or else i’ll never be able to afford supplies for my project. ”

alhaitham hummed. “ alright, i’ll limit myself to… eh, three books. ”

from the most expensive section too…

“ three?! come on make it at least two… ” kaveh pouted. “ you always get the most expensive books, so two! ”

alhaitham sighed, “ fine, two books, and i’ll try that stupid dating app. ”

“ bet! ” kaveh gleamed, picking up alhaitham’s phone which made alhaitham jolt up a bit.

“ hey what are you— ” kaveh shushed him.

“ getting you the app, obviously!! ” kaveh chuckled, flashing the phone over to alhaitham’s face for face-id.

poor alhaitham couldn’t even snatch it back.

kaveh was typing away on alhaithams phone ( without alhaitham’s consent too! how rude! )

“ here! now you can set up your profile. ” kaveh handed alhaitham back the phone.

“ okay, okay. ” alhaitham muttered, sounding unhappy… but in reality he was a little bit excited.

“ kaveh. why do you even want me to date someone….? ”

“ because haitham, your 23 and haven’t even gotten a peck on the lips— and your like, i dunno, attractive? i have no idea i just wanna help you live a little… ”

alhaitham blinked at his friend a couple of times… live a little? he was already living his life the best he could.

well actually, that was debatable.

“ yeah, okay. ” alhaitham clicked on the profile… he needed a profile picture and bio..

“ use the photo from the festival! you know, the one with the glasses and you actually smiling! ” kaveh suggested.

“ that one…? okay. ” alhaitham scrolled through his gallery, which was mostly just photos of kaveh making faces, books, and some things he found appealing (aesthetic sunsets, and photos of trees and plants).

“ what about for my bio? ” alhaitham asked kaveh, who seemed to already be conducting something “good”.

“ say your name, age, mbti, zodiac, and major! and whatever else you think is important for your soulmate to know. ” kaveh nodded proudly.

“ soulmate? you make me laugh. there’s no such things as soulmates. ” alhaitham scoffed. “ people fall in love and that’s it, there’s no mystical soulmate thing behind it— think realistically kaveh. ”

“ i am thinking realistically! ” kaveh snapped back, brows furrowing. “ your so ungrateful. ”

“ and my zodiac? the fuck does that have to do with anything? ” alhaitham raised a eyebrow, but typed it down anyways.

“ i thought you believed in astrology! ”

kaveh sighed, trying to calm himself down— screaming wasn’t going to help him. he couldn’t get a another sore throat from alhaitham.

“ whatever, just put anything down at this point…”

“ i should write down ‘ lover has to be smart ’… ” alhaitham said with the faintest smile.

kaveh gave him a look.

“ it’s a joke dumb ass. ” or was it?

( 2 days later ) it was about 1:24 a.m— and for some reason alhaitham was awake watching tiktok.

i mean he couldn’t sleep because of kaveh’s loud snoring.. and he has finished his books— and didn’t exactly want to binge on his new ones all in one night.

and that’s when he got it— a silly little notification.

‘ you matched with… [ name ], [ last name ] ! congratulations!! ’

“ the fuck… ” alhaitham squinted, clicking on the notification to be brought to your profile.

he examined it for a moment, you took the same major as him and were fairly… pretty.

he stared at it for a moment longer before receiving another notification.

‘ [ name ], [ last name ] would like to chat with you! ’

of course, he quickly clicked the approve button.

⟣ master list ⋆ next ⋆ prev

#alhaitham #alhaitham genshin #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham smut #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #alhaitham smau #smau

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minnesota-fats · 5 months

Text

Snow Bat

Ch 1

Danny, a homeless kid living on the street. Bruce, a rich kid obsessed with trying to find his parents' murderers. They both meet one rainy night at age eighteen, and from that night forward their fates are intertwined forever more.

All is as it should be.

Danny remembers the night like it had just happened—but I guess you will witness it first hand. He had situated himself on a street corner, not busy enough to have a constant set of eyes on him—but then again no one really batted an eye at a homeless kid here in Gotham. Though, Danny did not consider himself a kid anymore. Not after all he had been through, though that doesn’t matter right now. Danny was sitting on the concrete walkway, not really paying attention, just sitting in thought on what he should do next. He had gotten this far, but he still needed to figure out what to do next. He had come into town with a bag of clothes and a wallet full of money. Thought that didn't last long when in a shitty part of town, known for muggers and killers.

Danny didn't really put up much of a fight either, he was too tired to really do anything and most importantly he didn't want to use the abilities that he has. Sure, it would have made getting away easier but when did Danny ever do things the easy way? So, in the end he was down one bag of clothes and any identification and money. Though while on the run, you don't really want people to know who you are. The only purpose his ID had was just to serve as a reminder of who he was, now with it gone, Danny can really start anew. He just had to figure out what he was going to do.

Danny didn't really register the rain until he felt it stop pelting his head aggressively. He looked up and was confused to see an expensive looking umbrella positioned over his head. Danny followed the hand holding the umbrella to see a young man who was surrounded by a halo of the street lamp shining directly behind him.danny tilted his head to the side to examine the man, he had stormy gray blue eyes and slicked back black hair that started to lose shape as the rain began to wet it and his suit jacket. Danny could feel his heart skip a beat, something very noticeable when your heartbeat is as slow as his. The man looked down at him and tilted his head to mimic Danny's own head tilt.

The young man’s name is Bruce Wayne, heir to the Wayne family fortune. He had been walking around to clear his head after he had a fierce argument with his father figure Alfred. Bruce had stormed out of the vehicle and began walking away in a random direction. Bruce knew that Alfred wouldn't be too far behind, knowing how protective he was of Bruce. During his walk however Bruce had spotted what looked like a kid no older than eighteen, sure he was the same age, but Bruce hadn’t considered himself a kid for a long time despite what others around him might say. He tightened his grip on the umbrella and without much thought he walked closer to the young man. As Bruce got closer he could see the man had a busted lip and swollen downcast eyes. There were smudges of blood on his dirty hoodie and a steady stream of pink bloody water dripping from his hair. It is clear to Bruce that this young man had just been on the losing side of a fight or at least a beating.

It reminded Bruce of how he used to get into fights in primary school after- Bruce didn't want to think about that right now. Bruce walked toward the man and used his umbrella to shield the man from the rain. When the young man looked up, Bruce couldn't help but admire how bright this man's eyes were—at least the one that wasn’t swollen shut. The young man in front of Bruce had unbelievably blue eyes that almost looked purple as the light shifted when the young man tilted his head to the side in confusion, Bruce mimicked the movement.

Bruce knelt down to be at eye level with the other man, “what happened?” He asked, voice smooth and unassuming.

“Got my shit stolen,” Danny says with a shrug, his voice sounding hoarse from the disused. Danny coughed and cleared his throat, “what does it look like?”

Bruce looked him over, “you seem to have suffered several contusions that range from a not so serious looking busted lip to a concerning head wound that may or may not need stitches.”

Danny tilted his head the opposite direction, “oh,” was all he could think of saying, dumbfounded by the sudden medical analysis.

“If you would like I can take you to the hospital,” Bruce offered, “my car is just around the corner.”

Danny’s eyes widened, “no! No hospital,” he exclaimed. His back straightened up as he tried to lean forward, but the sudden movement made him feel dizzy. “I, umm…. Can't afford it….” He tries, sounding unsure.

Bruce looked harder at the young man in front of him, “money isn't an issue,” Bruce starts. But the tension in the man's form made him reconsider his approach, “But if you want I can treat you at my home,” He offered.

Danny calmed down at what the man said, “No, it's ok. I'll be fine,” he starts as he leans back down against the wall, not taking his eyes away from the man in front of him. “I don't want to impose.”

“Then do you have somewhere I can take you? I’m not leaving you here alone.” Bruce says, stubbornly.

“Really buddy, I’m good, I don’t need-” he tries but Bruce cuts him off.

“I promise you, I won't hurt you,” Bruce tried again, “If you want you can even stay the night, have a warm meal and shower. I just want to help you.”

Danny looked at this man again, really looked at him. Danny could feel that this guy really meant it, he wanted to help danny—no strings attached. Danny let out a groan before leaning forward and shaking his head in annoyance. Danny looked back up into the man's eyes, “fine,” Danny grumbles out, “only for a hot shower. But if you're a serial killer I'm gonna be real pissed off.”

The man smiled and reached out his hand for Danny to take, “don’t worry, my name is Bruce. What’s yours?”

Danny accepted Bruce's hand and groaned as he helped hoist him up, “name’s Danny,” he responds, “I think I might have a broken rib or two,” he admits, swaying a bit as he clutched his side.

“To be expected when mugged in Gotham,” Bruce said darkly. The comment made Danny snort a bit in laughter. Bruce smiled a bit as he pulled Danny closer to him so they could both share the umbrella, Bruce could see the man tensed up a bit before resting into Bruce’s side. It was like that Bruce led the injured man to the edge of the sidewalk just as a sleek black car drove up and parked in front of them. Danny seemed to tense up again at the sight of the car, looking like he was ready to bolt. Bruce made sure to keep his posture passive, hopefully to convey that they were not in any danger.

The front window rolled down to reveal the familiar face of Alfred, “I see you have made a friend, Master Bruce.” He commented as he moved to get out of the car.

“No need to get out Alfred, I got the door.” Bruce says softly and he pulls Danny along and opens the back door. He holds the umbrella up above the door to allow Danny to get in first. As Bruce guides him down to sit Danny groans again as settled in. Bruce smiled at Danny reassuringly before he closed the car door and ran to the other side to get in. Once in the car Bruce looked forward at Alfred who looked through the rear view mirror at his ward, “to home please, Alfred, I promise my friend here a warm meal and shower,” Bruce explained before looking back at Danny, “after I check his wounds,” he says directing that part to danny who just groaned in annoyance before looking out the window.

Alfred smiled softly at the display of fragile trust, proud of his ward’s stubbornness when it comes to others safety.

Hopefully, this will be good for both young men, the old butler thought as he took note of the state the new man was in.

If only he knew how significant this meeting actually was.

Only time will tell.

—

Remaining chapters on ao3:

Link

#danny fenton #bruce wayne #teen bruce wayne #young bruce wayne #pre batman #au #dcxdp #dpxdc #dcxdp fic #spirit halloween #I hate that ship name #but whatever #danny fenton/bruce wayne #danny fento x bruce wayne #yep #uwu #fluff #maybe art in the future

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phantomrose96 · 1 year

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I never understood the concept of "doing taxes". Taxes are just there and you just pay them, like everytime you buy something it includes a tax you have no other choice but to pay it, what do you have to do?? (I live outside the USA)

Oh fun! I get to explain U.S. taxes!!

(disclaimer: if you're a young adult in America who will have to learn to do taxes soon, please don't take this as a reason to panic. It IS absurd and it is kinda stressful the first time you do it, but you get a handle on it, and filing services like FreeTaxUSA walk you through it and do all the math parts for you. [Though learning the math parts yourself is kinda smart if you want to understand what you're doing.])

(other disclaimer: I might have some details wrong because I'm a random blogger and not an accountant. Accountants don't maul me please.)

So it's true that tax is included when you buy something, but the whole "doing taxes" in America is about income tax.

My experience is with a company that does withholdings (god bless all you freelance workers figuring it all out for yourselves.) Withholdings means my company will estimate how much tax I should owe and take it out of each paycheck to give to the government. So from a $1,000 paycheck, they might withhold $300 to pay taxes with, and gives you the remaining $700.

But that might NOT be right. So in April every American has to go crunch all the numbers and figure out if they paid the right amount :) (chances are the answer is no).

We get a form called a W-2 (god bless, I only have one W-2 because I work just one full time job) which includes *adjust glasses*: employer's name, your info, your federal ID number, your social security number (partially redacted), your total wages, your federal income tax withheld, your social security tax withheld, your medicare tax withheld, your deferrals with things like 401k contributions, tips, dependent care benefits, STATE income tax withheld (my state has a 5% income tax, on top of the federal income tax) AAAAAAND other boxes I won't even bother with.

You feed this into software (like turbotax, which CHARGES you to do this, but I used FreeTaxUSA which had free federal filing and almost-free state filing) - RIGHT, you file federal and state SEPARATELY. And you owe/receive SEPARATE amounts.

America has tax brackets, which means you owe x% of money you make between--actually, lemme get the fucking chart

fucking delightful.

So if you make $50,000, as a single filer, you owe 10% of the first $10,275, then you owe 12% of the next $31,500 (that's the amount between $10,275-$41,775, in the second row), then 22% of the remaining $8,225 (cough and then also state income tax if you have it cough). It's a little bit like filling up a thermometer, and the amount between each tick mark is what you owe x% of.

BUT WAIT. THERE'S DEDUCTIONS.

DEDUCTIONS are where most of the complexity comes from. Because there's like 1,000 random things that can give you a tax break. And there's also the standard deduction of $12,950.

What's the deduction? It's an amount of your income that qualifies as tax-exempt. So for the $50,000-earner, if they go with the standard deduction of $12,950, then only $37,050 of their income is taxable. So FORGET that calculation above, it's now 10% of the first $10,275, and 12% of the remaining $26,775

But if your itemized deduction is higher than your standard deduction, it's in your interest to calculate all your itemized deductions and use those, if they add up to more than $12,950

My itemized deductions were almost higher than the $12,950, between my state income tax contribution, property tax contribution, and mortgage interest payments. Other people might have a fuckton of other things--uh like dependents, business expenses, uh I'm not even sure since I skim past all the ones that don't apply to me.

OH, ALSO, THERE ARE OTHER FORMS YOU MIGHT HAVE TO PROVIDE BEYOND THE W-2. There are 1099-INT forms for interest made on bank accounts, 1099-DIV forms for money made from stock dividends, and others I don't even know about.

And all my knowledge and experiences comes as someone with relatively simple taxes by U.S. standards.

(The state taxes then have their own things and own deductions and whatever. They're usually kinda less complicated than federal, but they're a separate thing you have to file.)

And after you do all that, it figures out how much tax you SHOULD owe, how much you ACTUALLY paid, and tells you the difference that you owe/are owed.

I got back a decent amount of money in 2019 and 2020. 2021 was preeettty much even. 2022 I OWE a lot of money because, fuck it, I dunno.

#ask #taxes

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holyghostbelle · 8 months

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THE THIRTEENTH STEP

(sponsor!dark!Eddie Munson x recovering!reader)

Oh how I've created the most deliciously terrible pairing, so many warnings and red flags.

if you are under the age of 18 I will make out with you dad >:0 don't make me do that

Eddie Munson is 5 years sober and horribly famous, reader is 60 days sober and has never heard of the bands he's in :) 29 year old Eddie , 21 yr old reader. Fem reader. ALSO STEVE THE ARMY GUY is not STEVE HARRINGTON

Warnings: drug use, addiction, drug addiction, alcoholics, sex addicts, sexual assault(not eddie),power play, the act of thirteenth stepping( becoming involved with newly recovering addict),abuse, victimisation, reader hates herself, reader is suicidal,Gaslighting and manipulation

Masterlist

It's 1994 and you stop smoking, you chew gum instead, sipping dark roast coffees when you crave them.You stop drinking too, stop doing drugs, you're totally clean now and you get tattoos, thousands of them (well you have maybe more than 20) you've been clean for less than 60 days.

Your parents are so proud of you, and you've broken up with ‘him’? So you've got everything ahead of you and nothing to lose. You're living with your parents, back at home, you don't hear the drunks outside,they don't knock on your door and beg. The mail comes and it is never bad news. You thank your rich mum and dad. You pray every night that they are telling the truth when they say how far you've come, but deep down you know they aren't, back at home already and your degree hasn't even finished yet.

You're a failure.

They've spent so much money on you, you want to pay it all back, hospital bills, expensive rehabilitation, one of the new ones, with green tea and yoga and celebrities who have phones you put in your pocket, the one your dad has for work.

You have crystal healing therapy and draw your feelings in big white open rooms with hundreds of plants, and half the time you think to yourself.

‘i'd rather he hit and shout at me all over again before Rachel stands up and hums incredibly loudly at the back of my head for another session of reiki healing, in fact i'd rather be back to lying on the streets overdosing if she prescribes a fucking hug. Id rather have a fucking! stomach pump if she tells me i'm worth it! One more fucking time.``

But you're out now, stuck in the New York suburbs with assholes who take prescription drugs and drink green smoothies and walk tiny dogs and listen to music that makes you want to cut your ears off and shove them down someone's throat.

Your parents buy you a car to get to the NA meetings. It's thirty minutes away. In a church.

You remember going there on Sundays with your family, fresh faced in babydoll dresses and tiny little white socks, with your pink pocket bible and you'd get pancakes with sweet syrup and fresh fruit and your nan would scoop up all the foam on her coffee and let you taste it when your mum turned a blind eye, bitter and milky.

But this is different, you've done this all by yourself.

’Step 1: Admit your life has become unmanageable’

Okay, so it's your first college party right? And you're freshly 18. You've never drunk (the sip of your dads beer doesn’t count) and you're dressed well; slutty. Your roommates pulled something out that's low cut? You're a hundred percent sure it's a nightgown at this point. And you've got boots and a brown matte lip and you look at yourself in the mirror and think.

‘Is this what it's like to be popular?”

So anyway, you show up to this party right, you-look-so-fucking-hot. And you meet this guy, well you meet “him”, He's cute, a little flirty. He makes you smile and he smokes weed. And remember you've never drunk or done any drugs, but you really like him and any common sense gets thrown out of your pretty little head, so you do a shot and smoke.

You end up in his bed that night, he's pressed against you whispering poetry into your ear, you swallow air and cry and you've never been deeply religious because you did give that boy a hand-job in the church graveyard when you were fourteen, so it's not like you're totally a prude or anything because your roommate's dress hangs around your waist as you lose your virginity to him, and all you ask is,

“Is this what heaven feels like?”

You're light and airy.

You wake up in the morning and leave and you start going out every night trying to catch him at the bar that doesn’t ID, you see him with other girls-he leaves with other girls, hunched over in the back alley. Sometimes it's you, in his car, in the bar toilets, in his house, you don't leave for days, your mind is constantly foggy and he is on the phone to his friend talking about drugging the same girl over and over, but you want it so badly so it can't be you, right?

So you start buying off him and suddenly all of your trust fund is gone and your owing him favours, your on his bedroom floor high as a fucking kite you see color's and your pretty sure your on acid, you don't actually know? But it doesn't matter at this point because you’ve convinced yourself he's in love with you.

You've missed all your classes this week because you're too busy getting pounded by the guy that gives you drugs for free and then he stops whispering poetry into your ear and you are actually like together, because you got kicked out of your apartment and you live with him now.

There's no point going anywhere, your mind is foggy, you've lost so much weight and you don't actually know what's going on at this point, he tells you what you need, his friends come and go, he must have hundreds of them because they all look different.

He gets violent, but it's during sex first, he slaps your face and apologises because he's ‘just trying to keep you awake’ he swears. He buys you flowers the next day, and chokes you that evening, it becomes a vicious new cycle.

“Here I bought you chocolate” is cheap shit, but he carves his initials into your skin that night because "you fucking belong to him”

Then he tells you to sleep with his friends and you do. He laughs and calls you a slut and kicks you. “Anything for fucking drugs this girl”

His friends snicker and you sleep with them, the list of sins gets longer. Then one night after a year when your parents get redirected to the place you've been staying because this Christmas you haven't called to say you're coming back and also that expensive ivy league school just sent the third check back as you had dropped out.

They find you outside on a road away from his place, red foam out your mouth, eyes rolled back and bruised all over, your naked and your hair is knotted at the back, so you're rushed to hospital, you never tell them what happened, so they don't ask, no police report is filed, he gets away with what he's done.

What a Christmas gift you think, your mother says its a Christmas miracle and tells all her friends that you've basically been reborn. Your dad is distant like always, and you drink cranberry juice instead of wine at Christmas dinner, everyone pretends that everything is fine.

You think you were set up to fail from the start.

And yeah, you could say your life has gotten pretty unmanageable.

The doctor says you're lucky your parents found you, you had your stomach pumped in the ambulance, but you don't remember much.

Just pain, and a pure black sky.

And you start to miss him, it's been two weeks and he hasn't tried to contact you to apologies like he usually does and you think of the first night you met and how it felt like heaven, and how you couldn't move and speak and it was like you were trapped in your own head and how it didn't feel at all that nice, and how he was whispering ‘it's going to be alright, im just taking care of you’

And you're heartbroken all over again, but you're not allowed to drink so you wallow in your sadness sober, which is actually ridiculously boring and because you're sober you can't make drunk mistakes like kissing random old men or spending hundreds of dollars on a stupid bag, because drunk you would take a knife and stab him right in his heart so he knew how it felt.

You start to wish you died that night, because tattoos are fucking expensive and also you cant get yourself to cover his mark because that would mean someone else would see it there and everything would be true.

So you sit at home and think and cry and cry some more, and then you pack for rehab.

But rehabs over now, and AA, NA, SAA (because sleeping around for drugs is actually considered a sex addiction? And not prostitution? yeah right!), that's your life now, you're fully booked and sober.

It's five pm. You're driving an old Honda accord in silver because your dad thinks if you get drunk and crash the car it won't be a loss of money, have a little faith, your mum hands you three dollars to buy a coffee because apparently coffee is incredibly expensive now.

You pull over and buy a pack of cigarettes, you lean against your car, you breathe in the bitter death and think.

“Is it a sin to smoke next to a church?”

It can't be right?

You check your watch, five twenty five.

A black Chevy truck pulls up to your left, it actually looks ridiculous, its custom so whoever owns it is either extremely rich or stupid and poor.

Metallica blasts through the speakers, it's so loud you can't hear yourself think. The car door slams as you inhale the last of your cigarette. You look up for half a second, but you find yourself gazing at him for a second too long.

He looks back, he nods and smiles at you.

You scoff, stamping out your cigarette.

He follows you into the church.

———————

Eddie's famous, stupidly famous. Old men know who he is famous, and hot women.

Eddie is famous as fuck and rich and an addict.

You know how it starts, smoke a bit of weed in high school, drink a couple of beers. One minute you're trying cocaine for the first time and the next your manager is hand cuffing you to your bed-frame because you have a tendency to get drunk and fuck and destroy the hotel room.

So yeah maybe Eddie spiralled out of control on tour and passed out on stage and then decided to get in the passenger seat with his friend, and take control of the steering wheel, and well you probably know the rest right? you've heard it all before, you've seen it in the papers.

"RICH WHITE ROCKSTAR GETS FUCKING DRUNK AND KILLS LIKE A MILLION PEOPLE!!!!!"

Okay so not exactly that.

On parole for a year, Licence revoked for two. Three years in and he starts making music again, four years sober and all he has is an extreme nicotine addiction, an over customised truck, and bandmates who hate him. But that's rock and roll baby, all the stars nearly kill their friends.

Eddie goes to NA and AA meetings every week, technically he's forced too but he likes listening to rich white mens sob stories, how they were bankers by day and coke addicts by night, because it's so tragic how they cheated on their wives with strippers, boo hoo! Eddie likes to play a game for sympathy, someone tells their sob story about losing a dog because they were drunk and Eddie talks about how his friend was in a coma for half a year.

And so Eddies pulls into the church hall parking lot, and he notices the young lil thing leaning against her car inhaling a cigarette like it's her job, and she dressed somewhat weirdly. In Fact she looks so out of place, she's wearing beige but not in a cool 90s grunge way. More in the way that her mum dressed her this morning, her mum being rich and suburban, married her husband for money.

He switches the truck off, and metallica fades out immediately. He steps out the truck, the car door slams, he stretches, his chest aimed for the sky and he looks at her. He nods and sends her a cheeky smile.

He waits for her reaction but she stares and scoffs , stamping out her cigarette, her eyes roll and she pulls the sleeves of her overly expensive knit jumper down.In the colour of beige, but the store probably calls it caramel coffee creamer or gingerbread cookie fall and even worse cinnamon roll icing, coconut shredded chocolate. Or if it's even higher end, sand one. He follows behind her. Noticing her stained black converse, bloodied, scuffed.

Her mum had definitely dressed her.

———————

The church hall is cold, it always has been.

There's a circle of chairs in the middle of the room, and a table with coffee cups and cheap plastic wrapped muffins, there's four men in suits in the room they’re sweating and you make eye contact with what you think is your mom's friend, she looks away quickly, and then there's the weird army guy with a sign in sheet that your pretty sure came to your high school to warn you about the dangers of drugs and alcohol.

You tell him your name and curl up on a plastic seat with a cold cup of coffee. You sip carefully, staring ahead as the curly headed freak pulls up a chair to your right.

“Nice sweater”

You raise an eyebrow and look him up and down, he's wearing a black fitted shirt and blue jeans covered in tattoos.

“It's my mums” you stare at him in the eye, “can you tell?”

“Where are your clothes then?”he points to your chest and meets your eyes.

“I don't know, probably in a skip somewhere rotting, like everything else”

He grins, “You're so cynical” he looks over to the woman next to him “How are you doing today Joan? How are the kids?”

Joans face flushes, and stares at your face,” Oh Eddie, i'm doing fine thank you, Heathers graduating college soon, only a couple of months”

“They grow up so fast, huh”

There's a moment of silence, Eddie leans back in his chair smiling, the business men talk about stocks or money or whatever they actually do, and the big army guy sits down in a chair, his legs spread, muscles bulging.

“Hello, I'm Steve and i'm an alcoholic!"

“Hi Steve” we chant back.

“It's been about seventeen years now, since i had a sip of beer, and i've been thinking, seventeen years, that's nearly a high school graduate, my soberness could drive, next year it could join the army, and every day i think to myself what is this for? myself ? My wife? My kids? “ he sighs

“No, being sober is for myself, i've owned up to my actions, i've accepted god into my life, i've made amends, and now? I go for dinner with my wife and while she has wine I have soda, my kids party and I can pick them up safely, and help them, but I'm happy to help.”

Steve goes on for what seems like hours, but you keep your eye on the clock and only minutes pass, you don't actually know what he's trying to say but you nod along anyway.

“We have a newcomer today, you've probably noticed her. So be nice, why don't you introduce yourself darling?”

You say your name, and they chant it back at you, they wait for you to speak.

“I got out of rehab like a-week ago, and all I could think while being there while they braided my hair and made me pick weeds out of bushes is how I would've rather died from my overdose than be there.” you pause, and the room fills with a flood of sympathy, it's thick in the air, there's a shuffling of feet.

“And like, everyones been telling me to own up to my actions, like it was my fault? Like I went to college and then decided to get hooked on drugs?” you smile but your eyes don't.

There's a scoff on your right, you look at him.

“oh sorry did you want to say something?”

“Look sweetheart, we’re all here for a reason, part of recovery is owning up to your actions” Eddie smiles softly like he's just said the biggest revelation ever .

You nod at him, “yeah i guess you're right, next time someone loads me up with ketamine and rapes me i’ll remember it was my own fault” you stand up straight coffee knocked up and on the floor.

“because I was asking for it, right?”

You drag your chair painfully slowly and it scrapes along the floor, making that awful sound.

You rush out of the building to your car, slamming the door and hitting the steering wheel. You look over at the truck on your left and contemplate.

Fuck it

You get out the car, keys in your hand and you scrape them along his car door , in jagged edges.

Shit. You panic. Can you go to prison for this? you've just vandalised a seemingly harmless guy's car.

“Did you just key my truck?” He's behind you, and you turn to see his face.

“No” you shake your head.

“I just watched you do it, why are you lying?” he questions

“Because ,I-” you sigh“ i've got to much fucking anger and i don't know what to fucking do with it” your lip tremors.

“Im stupid. So fucking stupid, and yeah everything is my own fucking fault, i could have filled a fucking police report, but i was so fucking naive, i found him in a club the next night and slept with him again, and suddenly i'm lying in my own filth waiting to die because ive been rotting away in his apartment for god knows how long, so he loads me up with drugs and leaves me on the side of the road and i think, this is it i'm finally going to fucking die. I'm twenty one and my life is already fucked.”

The wind howls, and the parking lot lights flicker on as it gets darker.

You look up at him “I'm sorry i keyed your car”

“It's fine, i'm stupidly rich and hate it anyway” Eddie mutters.

You smile.

“I want to be your sponsor”

“Huh?” your eyebrows raise "after I keyed your car?"

‘Yeah and well it's me or Joan, and Joan just speaks about her kids so, I'd be helping you out ”

“Joans actually my mom's friend”

“Oh, I get it,” Eddie sighs, fiddling with his keys.

You pause, looking at his brown eyes, you think about what they would've looked like blood shot.

“Can I get your number then? Because Heather was a real bitch to me in high school so i'd rather not hear about her success story”

A/N: hello I got bored and started writing, and this i what I wrote, i am terrible at proof reading by the way so I will give you a kiss if you tell me all my mistakes xxxx

#eddie munson x reader #dark eddie munson #famous eddie munson #rich reader #90s au #recovering addict au #stranger things x reader #stranger things but not strange #heavy topics #what the actual fuuuuuck #slightly older Eddie #eddie munson #edward munson

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brightlotusmoon · 7 months

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"25 years ago today, a jury in New Mexico announced its verdict in one of the most infamous and misunderstood cases in recent memory: Liebeck v. McDonald's, also known as the "hot coffee lawsuit."

This case is held up as one of most egregious examples of frivolous lawsuits. The story goes that a woman bought coffee from McDonald's, drove with it between her legs, spilled it on herself, sued McDonald's because it was hot, and took a cool $1 to $5 million (depending on who's telling the story) off of them. "Wait, she sued because coffee was hot? And she was driving with it between her legs? What did she expect? Anyone can sue for anything these days."

Guess what? That story is almost completely false. I mean, Stella Liebeck did have hot coffee spill on her. That part is true. But here's what's not. Liebeck wasn't driving. The 79 year old was in the passenger seat of her grandson's car. He pulled into a parking spot, where she was trying to add cream and sugar to her coffee. The car didn't have cupholders, so she put it between her legs, and when she pulled the lid off, it spilled all over her.

The spilled coffee wasn't just unpleasant; it was served at nearly 190 degrees, which caused 3rd degree burns over 6% of her body, required multiple skin grafts, necessitated further care after she left the hospital, and left her permanently disfigured. She originally tried to settle with McDonald's and asked for $20,000; they responded with an offer of $800.

At that point, she hired an attorney who discovered that 1) McDonald's required franchisees to serve coffee between 180-190 degrees 2) no other coffee in the city was served at more than 160 degrees 3) 190 degree liquid causes third degree burns in less than 3 seconds and would burn the mouth if consumed at that temperature 4) 160 degree liquid takes over 20 seconds to cause third degree burns and 5) McDonald's had been sued over SEVEN HUNDRED times in the prior decade for coffee being too hot and had settled up to $500,000 in cases and been told to lower the temperature.

Ultimately, McDonald's refused an arbitrator's suggestion of a $225,000 settlement and the case went to trial, where a jury ultimately awarded Liebeck $200,000 in compensatory damages, and $2.7 million in punitive damages. "A ha!," you sa, "so she still got millions! That's still frivolous!" Well...no.

First, the jury found Liebeck was 20% at fault, so the compensatory damages were reduced by that amount, to $160,000. Then the judge reduced the punitive damages to three times the compensatory, or $480,000, for a total of $640,000. We don't know how much Liebeck got because they eventually settled for less than $600,000, but between medical expenses and legal fees, it's a FAR cry from the millions she got for a slightly warmed leg in the well-known story.

So how did this become so legendary? Simple. McDonald's knew the case was going poorly, so it looked to the one thing it had that Liebeck didn't: a bully pulpit. They started a massive PR effort that was basically a smear campaign, painting Liebeck as some irresponsible scofflaw trying to take their hard-earned money. And it worked, to the point that the annual "awards" for frivolous lawsuits are known as "The Stellas."

As for Liebeck? The then 81 year old didn't have the money, platform, or desire to fight back, and used the money to pay for a live-in nurse. She watched company after company use her case as an excuse for tort reform, to stop the big bad consumers from hurting the poor, poor multinational billion dollar corporations, before passing in 2004 at age 91."

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=pfbid021Lfd937eiZt1XprMuMMjjDEaUwG8qC97ENcgpoGfCd2rhczgPjW7RSDybjDU3iZ2l&id=5708003

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jokeroutsubs · 7 months

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SiTi Teater charity stream featuring Bojan and Štras - information & how to buy tickets!

Have you seen our posts about Bojan and Štras (frontman of MRFY)? Were you intrigued and would like to see more of them? Then this post is for you!

SiTi Teater is a theatre in Ljubljana that’s celebrating its 15th anniversary this year. Part of the celebration will be an event involving several “one on one” duets between Slovenian musicians, as well as performances by Slovenian stand-up comedians and actors. It will be streamed on Thursday, October 5th 2023, at 20:00 (8 PM) Central European Time (you can use this website to convert that to your time zone if needed). You can see the full list of performers on their website. These three performances in particular might be of interest to Joker Out fandom:

Bojan Cvjetićanin & Gregor Strasbergar – Štras, of course. You can find their previous 1on1 performances, as well as some other fun Bojan/Štras content, in our Štras tag!

Tomi Meglič (frontman of Siddharta and one of Bojan’s role models) & Miha Guštin - Gušti (former Big Foot Mama guitarist and, of course, Kris's dad)

Lado Bizovičar, one of the biggest names in Slovenian stand-up comedy, whom you might remember from being on V petek zvečer with Bojan, and from that time he rubbed his friendship with Bojan in Käärijä’s face.

The concert will be streamed, and you can buy a ticket to get a link, as it will be a charity stream. At the beginning of August, Slovenia was hit with devastating floods that ravaged large parts of the country; you can find out more about it here (English article) and here (Slovenian article with a lot of photos and videos). Recovery will be long and expensive, as the most recent estimates are that the floods caused about 5 billion € of damage.

You can choose to pay 5€, 10€, or 15€ for the ticket. All proceeds from the ticket sales will go towards helping the people who suffered in the August floods.

So you can have a fun evening and help people out! We’ve asked SiTi Teater about it, and they said that the stream will be on YouTube and accessible worldwide. If they have a chat enabled, we’ll do our best to translate as much as we can during the event, or at least give some context!

Instructions for how to buy a ticket are under the cut! (And the website is in English!)

First, make an account (it's better to do that first so it doesn't interrupt your purchase process later). To do so, go to this link. (You can also log in with your Google or Facebook account or Apple ID.)

When you've done that, go to this link to buy the ticket for the charity event. The description is in Slovenian, but the ticket buying process is in English!

After you click on "Buy tickets", you have to decide how much you want to pay for your ticket: 5€, 10€, or 15€. There is no difference between the differently priced tickets - everyone will get the same link. It's just about how much you can afford to give. (Again - all the proceeds will go to flood victims.) Click the number 1 under the amount you wish to pay, and a ticket will be in your cart. Proceed with your purchase!

When you've completed your purchase, you will get an e-mail with a PDF ticket. Since this will be an online stream, that’s not an actual ticket, just a PDF with information. The text on it says:

You will receive a WEB LINK to watch our event on our YouTube channel to your registered e-mail address on 5.10.2023 at 19:00. The link will be active from 19:30 on, and the stream will start at 20:00. After the stream is finished, the link will not be active anymore. If you don’t receive the link to your email by 19:15 on 5.10.2023, please contact us at info[at]sititeater.si or call us at 070 940 940. Please check your junk mail folder and other folders in your e-mail as well. All proceeds from the ticket sale will go to the people affected by the floods through the humanitarian organisation Zavod Truhoma.

All times are in Central European Time, so if you live in a different time zone, check what that is for you! To sum up: you will get a link for the stream on the day of the event (October 5th 2023), one hour before it starts. The link will be active from half an hour before the event.

If you have any more questions, let us know and we’ll be happy to help!

#joker out #bojan cvjeticanin #bojan cvjetićanin #gregor strasbergar - štras #mrfy

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audioletter · 6 months

Text

Day Nineteen: Shopping Trip (John, Rodney, Teyla & Ronon)

It's the small things that become annoyances when Atlantis is grounded in San Francisco. Getting a phone plan without explaining why they'd been "out of the country" for five years, a bank card because all of theirs were expired, and housing that wasn't attuned to their every move like Atlantis was.

Luckily, the government helped them with most things - Teyla and Ronon being given official IDs and passports with a strange amount of ease - and they're all shocked when they can finally check their bank accounts to see how much money had accumulated.

"Holy shit," John muttered, mirroring Rodney at the next ATM with a grin on his face. "Gathering interest isn't just a myth."

"Well, I suppose this is sufficient for the amount for the danger we were in and the work we did," was the curt response, but John can hear Rodney humming as he pulled out fresh hundred dollar notes from the machine and put them in his rarely-used wallet.

After talking Ronon and Teyla through the process of automated banking, John turned to the three of them, his hands on his hips. "Well, I suppose now we go shopping."

"Shopping?" Teyla's eyes lit up. "I suppose I do need some more Earth-like clothing."

John waved his hand, grinning. "I'll leave that for Sam to help you with, or Amelia and Jennifer - for today, we fill our houses with the bounty of Trader Joe's."

"Trader Joe's? Sounds like some outpost somewhere," Ronon said, sounding suspicious.

Rodney sighed. "It's a supermarket, which -" he paused and looked at the sky. "I suppose is kind of like a trading outpost, just more expensive and hideously American."

"I'm sorry we have to offend your Canadian senses being stuck in San Fran, but I missed Trader Joe's and Teyla and Ronon need to experience something a little higher end than Wal-Mart for their first grocery shopping experience."

Rodney shrugged and crossed his arms, a sure sign John had won; victoriously he lead them to the SUV the government had organised for them to use whilst on Earth and drove them to the nearest store.

The smell was overwhelming - like coming home, and John knows like most expats (were they expats?), food was the thing he missed the most. The lights, the sounds, the ambience, he turns to his group and opens his arms in glee. "Trader Joe's lady and gentlemen. Grab a cart, we're gonna need one."

"Cart?" Teyla looks confused, and Rodney sighs, taking a cart from the stack at the door opening and handing it to her. "Oh, you push it and put the food inside it, clever." She began pushing it, obviously enjoying it from the outset. "There's a seat for Torren, too!"

"Okay, what do you guys want to eat?" John asked, clapping his hands together.

"Meat."

"Vegetables and grains."

"Coffee."

Expected responses, and they began to navigate the aisles deftly, filling the cart with both functional and whimsical items ("Joe O's?" Ronon asked, holding up the box. "Are they made of Joes?" "It's cereal and you'll love it, put it in the cart.").

Eventually, the cart overflowing, they reached the end of the aisles and Teyla and Rodney both looked vaguely overextended. "This is a lot of food, Sheppard, do we need this much?"

Smiling and ignoring Rodney's sharp tone - the dude wasn't a "shopper", his words - "our houses are empty, and now we check out."

"Check out is where we purchase the items?" Teyla ventured. John nodded. "Much easier than trading. And we use the card Woolsey gave us to pay?"

"Pay way too much," Rodney grumbled, but helped John load the copious amounts of food onto the conveyer belt. "Next time we hit Wal-Mart or Target."

"Is there booze?" Ronon asks suddenly, and John pulls him back to the register.

"We'll get some on the way back to the apartments, get your cards ready."

Finally, the checkout girl finished ringing them up - annoyed they wanted to use four different payments, naturally - but eventually they found themselves in the bright light of day, the typical Trader Joe's eco bags a sign of success.

They head for the car, and Teyla speaks. "John?"

"Hmmm?"

"How do we cook this food?"

John began loading the bags into the back of the SUV and ignored Rodney's smothered chuckle. Earth was going to be a learning curve for all of them, but it was going to be worth it until they could reach the Pegasus Galaxy again.

#audiolettertober fic #stargate atlantis #AR1 #john sheppard #teyla emmagan #rodney mckay #ronon dex #the gang hit trader joe's #the mental image is enough

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vaguely-yandere · 2 years

Text

ehehehe i can't stop thinking about a darling who's a stalker! maybe a dirty PI, some criminal, it doesn't matter! what matters is that they're good at stalking people. they aren't a body guard or anything but if you need them to follow someone around, they're the one you call. whether their job is to remain unseen or to be basically attached to their targets hip, they're good at it. it's just so cool!!!

their targets are usually bratty rich kids of insanely wealthy parents or a rival criminal or they're just someone's spouse but their most comment target is other darlings. you'd think yanderes might hate the idea of someone else stalking their darling but this darling is... unique. they look normal and plain, non threatening and they understand their clients wishes to remain as far away from darling as possible. the yanderes that hire them are usually rich and busy people, not having the time to stalk darling without their business tanking and our stalker has an uncanny ability to show up right when the yanderes are weak and need them the most (as well as seeming completely non threatening even to the most insecure and possessive yanderes) and offer them a business card or something. pretty soon, they're discussing the stalking packages and the darlings prices

"Attached At The Hip" includes darling, the target, never leaving the stalkers sight. bathrooms, bedrooms, jail cells, surgeries, stalker will be right there by their side, no matter how much of a fight darling puts up. comes with regular selfies and updates but if you pay extra, stalker will wear a body cam 24/7 and live stream the feed directly to yanderes devices (additional charges such as medical bills, fake ID's and costumes, down payment on camera just in case, etc not included). pay even more and stalker will befriend darling, becoming a clingy bff to reduce the darlings stress levels

"Classic" package includes stalker following from a distance and is one of the most popular packages. stalker isn't allowed within 10 feet of darling unless absolutely necessary or requested by buyer. tracking devices will have to be paid for by the buyer. stalker will follow, again, at a distance, usually by car but won't go into small buildings, alleyways, elevators, etc without the buyers explicit permission (and extra money) just to prevent any... mishaps. stalker isn't really concerned about their safety, they have hundreds of powerful yanderes who owe them one, but still it's nice to avoid trouble. besides, darlings seem to have an.... air about them. it's distracting and while is attracts obsessive freaks, it makes stalker kinda nauseated. (stealing from darling is not included and will require additional purchases as well as an insurance payment in case of accidental arrest. any bodily fluids or secretions will cost extra, so will breaking and entering.)

"Birds Eye View" is for the more insecure yanderes who want this stalker for hire to not even breathe the same air as their darling and its a bit more expensive than others due to parking passes, binoculars, paying off security guards and hiring their own small team of trusted hackers who are more than willing to get into a buildings security cameras. its called "Birds Eye View" because stalker typically isnt even allowed in the same building as darling, forcing them to hang out in the building across the street or up on rooftops with nothing but their binoculars and their lunch. its stalkers favorite package, much more quiet. it is a difficult package to pull off however because the yadere isnt going to be satisfied with just faraway, blurry pictures of their darling thats half obscured because it was taken behind three different windows and a tree and thats where stalkers computer experience comes in. while stalker is better at physical stalking, following someone around for hours on end, they have coworkers that are better at getting high quality pictures through security cameras, audio recordings through secret microphones, sometimes the yanderes even request that stalker puts their own cameras and microphones in the darlings house, work, car, but that costs extra and luckily, the cost of a body cam so yandere can ENSURE stalker doesnt try anything is included! earpieces so yan can directly speak to stalker isnt included and costs extra.

now, idk if stalker would have a yandere or would just be apart of the people at yanderes disposal! you know how in 'rich yandere' or 'criminal boss yandere' stuff, they almost always threaten you, the reader, with their arsenal of shady characters that have no face or depth? i kinda wanna write about those characters! yandere clean up crews, kidnapping experts, drug 'lords', doctors for captive darlings, stalkers, best friends for hire, yandere parents, etc etc

but anyway!!! i think if stalker did have a yandere, theyd be more of a platonic yandere! maybe when stalker was a child, they were hired to be friends with the spoiled kid by the kids parents because, well, they were worried! and they needed another kid to help keep their kid on track! the yandere did hate it at first, not enjoying the freak who never did facial expressions right and always followed them everywhere but at some point, yandere realized they could get rid of them and accepted their permanent babysitter and as stalker grew, their prices changed and evolved and they defined what they were comfortable doing and what they werent.

they werent going to be yanderes body guard. they wouldnt physically prevent yandere from going places. their job was to follow yandere around and monitor them then report back to their parents. easy. and after a while, yandere grew obsessed and possessive over stalker, threatening other kids when they got too close to stalker, no longer trying to run away from them, even inviting them over to stay the night! and it was fairly easy, stalker was always around so yandere never didnt know what was going on with them.

i also think itd be fun seeing yandere killing someone who got too close to stalker or threatened yanderes position as stalkers best friend and stalker just stands there behind them, watching yandere brutally murder someone, eyes blank as they watch someone who tried to be their friend give them one last look of utter betrayal before the life leaving them. poor stalker did throw up later, wracking with sobs and shudders, not prepared to see all of that but luckily, yan was right there to comfort them <3 and apologize for the mess, not mentioning the fact stalker knew this would happen and even invited the pest over for a more controlled environment.

and you'd think yandere would be against stalkers business but no. sure, when yan was a teenager, they were out of control! killing left and right, starting fights with anyone who got too close to stalker, refusing to let stalker befriend anyone else, if anyone annoyed stalker (which was rare) then yandere would take care of them. youd think yandere would get a reputation or something but they were the top of their classes, wealthy and attractive. a good kid in teachers eyes but a giant spoiled brat, running off to the mall or shops whenever they wanted to, with stalker diligently following along, no longer really getting paid by yanderes parents but this is what theyve spent the past decade doing so why stop? besides, stalker was friends with yandere now and, well, being friends with yandere offered a lot of security and protection. a full ride to college, anyone they wanted dead, a house they could go to and basically a rabid wolf always willing to bite on command. it was nice.

but stalkers business starts after highschool and while yandere insists on staying close by, the buyers tend to be very threatened by yandere, even when theyre assured that they already have a darling and over time, yandere gets less and less possessive, trusting darling to always return to them by the end of the day and it helps that stalker always says that other darlings 'smell bad' and that other yanderes make them gag if they stay around them too long. its an odd reaction, almost like an allergy, but its very comforting to yandere.

and its just so cute imaging yandere being the ceo to their parents big company or something, having all the money in the world and coming home to an empty house, making dinner and just grinning ear to ear when stalker comes in, bruise on their face, grumbling about a feisty darling that didnt appreciate being attached to the hip with stalker or maybe just some bratty rich kid that slapped them for 'ruining a party with their vibe' and while usually, a yandere would freak, yandere just get an ice pack and shrugs it off.

yandere knows not to mess with others darlings. thats apart of the contract and yandere gets it, darlings can be hard and yanderes need stalker, they dont want them to get hurt or to drop them as a client just because their darling got a bit stabby but bratty kids? normal people? yandere hires someone to go return the wounds that got inflicted on their cute little stalker.

its just such a cute idea!!!!!! i love it!!!!!!

#stalker #stalker darling #yandere x y/n #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere x you #platonic yandere

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elijahlittle · 1 year

Note

I have been scouring this fucking app for Julian fics, never really occurred to I can just request some lol.

So yeah, if you're up for it I've got a little plot/trope set up that'd id love to see. Outsider(fem)reader/julian.

Something along the lines of a reader moving into the park from the southern us, new to Canada and parks in general. As an outsider, Julian expected you to be trouble or judgemental, so he acts like a dick to you at first. Later on, he starts to see instead how kind you are to everyone, understanding and totally up for doing ppl favors even when there's nothing for you in the end. This makes him feel real guilty for bein an ass to you, and also makes him start to feel other things towards u.. Take the fic in whatever direction you'd I wanna see u work ur magic

( + no pressure 2 write it ofc!!)

pairing: julian/fem!reader fandom: trailer park boys tags: smut (cis man/cis woman), fluff, a bit of angst, idk this is one of my more normal ones, heavy plot some porn (i kind of felt more plot focused with this one), julian is kind of hung (he gives me big dick energy) author's note: i'm much more of a ricky kinda guy myself but when i got this request, i got really fucking excited. i loved the idea. i will say, this fic isn't structured traditionally. it's very dialogue heavy and kind of leaves some things up to the imagination. i wanted to establish relationships between the reader and other people in the park as well as share some of julian's private conversations about her. i'm really proud of the way this has turned out, though i'm sorry if it's not the interpretation you might have been hoping for (i'm a little insecure about the way i interpret storylines). i hope you like it, though. i worked hard on it and i'm pretty sure it's the longest julian/reader fic currently on the internet so i'm going to take that fucking win rn. also, i actually live in the southern united states. (fun fact: i'm looking to move because i'm a trans man and life here is kind of ass if you're trans), so i gave the reader a backstory that's kind of unique to what a woman in 1999-2000 would have gone through. i'm not satisfied with the ending though, i'm sorry if this fic is a little lackluster, but we can only go up from here i guess. text blocking this shit was a fucking BITCH. word count: 6,442

everything i've ever let go of has claw marks on it.

The cultural climate of Sunnyvale Trailer Park wasn't exactly the most inviting. There were people who lived in the park and then there was everyone else. For the most part, newcomers never lasted more than a few weeks. The bottle kids drove away the weakest among them, but if those kids weren't effective usually Ricky's antics drove away the remaining lot. Sure, there were a few people here and there who moved in quietly, but those were usually the kind of people that minded their own business because lot rent was low enough for them to just ignore Lahey.

But in general, new people were not welcome. Especially know-it-all hipsters trying to live the simple life by casting away their possessions in an expensive storage unit and downsizing to a more humble trailer. Those were the kinds of guys that gave up quickly. Plus, new people threatened the balance of park politics. For the most part, Julian was well-liked and well-respected among the others due to his caring nature and dedication to his loved ones. He protected his own. And if there was one thing Julian didn't like, it was newcomers coming into the park without already knowing someone in it.

"Barb, I really think you should reconsider letting this girl in. I mean, you don't even know who she is."

"Julian, this is a business, not a family estate. Her credit was just below decent, she has an okay-paying job, and paid three months of rent in advance. From a business perspective, she seems like she'll be a reliable tenant. It's a good thing you've grown close with your community, but you have to remember at the end of the day, this trailer park is here to make money. Whatever fit of paranoia you're suffering through, deal with it on your own time. Next time you come here with a complaint, make sure it's a business one."

And just like that, Barb had shooed Julian off. What more could he say to that? Well, he had a lot more to say to that but she didn't want to listen. Every time he opened his mouth to speak, she only guided him further to the door. If Julian thought he was the one who ran this trailer park, he had another thing coming for him that's what. This dump needed more reliable tenants - normal folks who didn't like to get into trouble. Barb was trying to turn the park's image around.

"Julian, I just don't understand why you're so against this lady stayin' here. You know I'm no fan of newcomers myself, but she's been mindin' her own. She actually keeps her yard clean, which is pretty fuckin' nice if you ask me. It's nice to pass a yard that doesn't have a million fuckin' pieces of trash thrown all over the front. She even has one of those pink fuckin' yard flamingos in her yard. It's so bright and colorful. There ain't nothin' wrong with a little bit of color, Julian. Ain't nothin' wrong with a little bit of change."

"Are you even listening to yourself talk Bubbles? Can you hear what you're saying? You're saying change for this park is good. Who knows what she believes in. She might hate dope growers, she may be workin' with Lahey, she could get nosy and bust us for dope and you know Ricky and I are growin' a lot of dope -"

"- I know, I've seen that big fuckin' setup you got in that fuckin' trailer in that shitty little lot -"

"- so then Bubbles you should know that new people aren't good. We can't trust new people, especially not now. Especially not when we're so close to selling them to those prison guards and retiring. A stranger could compromise the whole thing. Remember those bible scammers that came through here? I've learned my lesson since then and I'm not tryna repeat old mistakes."

"Jesus Murphy Julian, you need to calm down. Those fuckin' assholes were obviously scammers, it's not like this lady is goin' door to door scammin' people."

"Sure maybe she's not taking advanced orders on bibles Bubbles, but she is goin' in and out of everyone's house doin' favors for them. Why does she need to see the inside of everyone's house? Do you think she's lookin' for something?"

"Have you ever stopped to think that maybe she's just a nice person doin' a nice thing? Nice people exist. You've been dealin' with dope and crime and jail so much that it's like you forgot how to trust someone. All you think about is dope and how you're going to protect it from everyone else."

"You're only defendin' her because she brings you boxes of canned cat foods for your cats. She's buyin' you off and you don't even know it."

"So what if she's helpin' me take care of my kitties? My kitties are the most important things to me and unlike you, she fuckin' knows that. If someone's offering to help take care of my precious little kitties, who the fuck am I to say no?"

"Bubbles, look -"

"No, no, nevermind." Bubbles tucks a gray cat further into his arms, his posture becoming more rigid. It's clear that he's done with the conversation, no longer interested in trying to hammer commonsense into Julian's brain. He couldn't see past his own paranoia and it was infuriating. In Julian's mind, everyone in the world was out to get him - even the nice lady across the street who helped his friend support his kitties. "You just don't get it, Julian. I'm goin' back home, come talk to me when you get it."

Julian was still convinced he was right about this girl. If the bottle kids didn't run you out, he'd just take matters into his own hands. He didn't care whether or not Bubbles helped. Julian was a man of many connections, and even if he couldn't find someone else to get the job done he had no qualms with taking care of the situation himself.

"I mean, if you think that lady's dangerous then you know I'm gonna follow you Julian 'cause you got the brains and stuff behind the projector, but I just gotta let you know I'm still workin' on my grade ten so whatever idea you have you got to make sure it's not illegal 'cause I can't go back to jail, not right before Trinity's birthday. That means we can't do any property damage or breaking and entering or any shit like that."

"I promise you Ricky we're not gonna go back to jail, we're just gonna annoy the shit out of her until she leaves. I was thinkin' maybe you and Cory and Trevor could host like a really loud party across the street tomorrow night, you know - something to keep her awake. If we get a noise complaint, we'll just shut it down, but then once the cops leave we'll start it back up again. We'll do this for a few nights until she finally decides to move out."

"That's a pretty fucking good idea, that's smart. Plus, since it's a party we can get drunk and high."

It's 2 a.m. and that fucking party is still going. There were several times you considered calling in a noise complaint but you decided that it was a better idea to just wait it out. It had to end at some point and overall, it was never a good idea to get involved with parties like that because sometimes they got out of a hand, and you were too smart to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Though when you stepped outside to 'check your mailbox' - spy on the party still going on into the early hours of the morning - you find yourself tripping over something. You stumble onto your hands and knees and it's only when you pull yourself up do you really get a good look at the man passed out by your mailbox. It's Ricky, and he's mumbling things almost incoherently. He mutters something about dope, bitches, Trinity, more bitches, Lucy, and good booze. It's a pathetic way to be, but you can't help but feel bad for you.

You use the toe of your shoe to rock his face awake. Ricky sputters before waking up in a drunk panic. He's angry and yelling incoherently, but your promise of a hot shower and a hot sandwich satiates his anger. He struggles his way through a shower, though almost slips a few times. He eats hand to mouth, chewing loudly, and drunk conversation ensues. He shares a lot with you - stuff he probably wouldn't have shared sober. He eventually passes out, not remembering much in the morning. That morning you share breakfast and a little bit about each other. He tried to hate you, he really did, but you were charismatic in a friendly way. There weren't any ulterior motives, you just enjoyed conversation.

"I don't know Julian, she seems fine to me. I mean, she's not all that bad. Her yard is pretty clean and you know, she has that pink little flamingo in her yard and honestly it's pretty fuckin' cute. I mean yeah she's kinda annoying and I hate that fuckin' southern fuckin' cowboy accent she fucking has but whatever. I think you're gettin' worked up over nothin'. You've been so busy tryna push out this lady who hasn't done nothin' wrong to you while I'm over here slavin' away watchin' after these fuckin' dope plants and tryin' to study for my grade ten all while play peepin' tom spy guy on some poor fuckin' lady."

"You're just saying that 'cause she let you spend the night and made you breakfast."

"You know what I sure as fuck I am! She made me breakfast and kept me from sleepin' on the fuckin' ground drunk as piss and let me use her shower and shit and I didn't even have to put out! It's not like I trust her or anything like that - I didn't talk about dope or nothin' like that at all." That was the truth. "It's just at this point anything is better than fucking Cory and Trevor. I'm not sayin' you gotta like her or trust her, but she's not all that bad Julian. Maybe if you actually got to fuckin' know her like I have you'd see that you're just being a paranoid dickbag."

"You know what Ricky, you don't anything about her. You're just seeing what she wants you to see. But I'm smart, so I see right through it -"

"Come on Julian don't be like that -"

"- and since nobody is going to take care of this fucking situation then I guess I'll have to."

Julian felt like everyone around him was failing him. Nobody else seemed to feel the same way he did about your existence in the trailer park. As each day passed, Julian grew more overtly snide. When approaching Ricky and Bubbles, Julian never took the time to acknowledge you. It was obvious that he was just being an ass, so you opted to ignore it, preferring not to fight. Silence was Julian's strongest weapon. But as the days ticked by, the tension between you and Julian only seemed to mount itself higher.

It's not like you inherently disliked Julian. In fact, you liked to believe that there was good in everyone and you prided yourself in your ability to be able to pull even the toughest people out of their shell. However, Julian was no easy project. Every time you tried to approach him, he simply brushed you off. You weren't even sure that the two of you had even exchanged any greetings. He hadn't even said hello. So when trying to talk to him didn't work, you simply tried to stay out of his way. This was frustrating for Julian because what he wanted you to do was to blow up and make it a big ordeal. But you didn't. You simply kept to yourself and resumed helping others around the park without complaints.

There were times where Julian thought about approaching you in the way Julian thinks about approaching any pretty thing in a summer dress that talks to him. But he remains strong in the face of adversity. Gone were the days of chasing anything in a dress. He had a dope business to worry about.

But sometimes the thought would creep up onto Julian ever so slowly. Sometimes, he'd get this kind of fantasy in his head - especially on the Sunday afternoons you'd spend gently pushing yourself back and forth in your rocking chair, enjoying the summer sunlight. He could think of a million ways you two could enjoy the afternoon together, but he often pushed the thought out of his head. He had a park to protect. Friends to protect.

"You know, you have some real nerve comin' up here in this trailer park and putting on a show like you're doing."

You look up from the rocking chair you were gently pushing yourself back and forth in and offer Julian a small smile.

"So you're Julian?"

Julian can't help but be a bit enamored with your slight southern drawl. It sounds like you're somewhere from the deep southern United States - one of those more rural provinces like Texas or Alabama. He can't quite pinpoint the accent, but he secretly finds it endearing.

"And how do you know that?"

"I mean, with how much you do for the people here it's kind of hard not to know who you are. Plus, Ricky and Lucy both never seem to shut up about you. You know, if I didn't know any better I'd say they're both in love with you or something. Also, yesterday you came to pick up Ricky and he pointed right at you and said well, there's Julian, see ya later. I just put two and two together."

"I'm not here to make small talk, (name)."

"Then what are you here to do, Julian?"

There's silence. What is he here to do. There wasn't anything that he could reasonably do and he wasn't the terrorizing type if he didn't have to be. Fuck, he had even promised that his greasy trouble-causing days were over. But here he was, standing at the edge of the patio stairs, contemplating whether or not he should threaten a woman.

"I'm just here to ask you about your intentions with Ricky, that's all."

You can't help but laugh out loud at the comment. "Oh, please. There's nothing going on between us."

Julian knows that because if there was something going on between you and Ricky, Ricky wouldn't shut up about it and the whole park would know. But he's trying to be covert about his intent to interrogate you.

"Yeah, well . . . there better not be . . . Ricky's a good guy and I'd really hate to see him get hurt . . ."

"Why are you really here, Julian?"

Julian stands in silence, thoughtfully cradling his glass in his hand as he tries to come up with a clever lie - but it's hard to think when he catches a glimpse of your thighs pressed together underneath your thin summer dress. He squints and then looks away briefly.

"I just wanted to stop by and tell you more about the culture of Sunnyvale. You know, we're really tight-knit. Like family."

"I know."

"And you know, family protects family."

"I know."

"And you know, I'd do anything for my family."

"I know."

"Anything."

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm not getting at anything, (name). I'm just givin' you a little more info about our park, just trying to get acquainted with you."

"Oh, you're trying to get acquainted with me? This is the first time I've spoken to you in the month I've been living here."

"Well, you know, I was busy with the business I'm running -"

"- that lawn mowing business you and Ricky got?"

Is that what Ricky is calling it? "Yeah, we've had a lot of customers so I've been having to do a lot of bookwork to keep up with the business you know. But it's been busy, so I haven't had time to talk, but now I do and I want to get to know you."

"You want to get to know me?"

"That's what I just said isn't it?"

"Well I'll tell you what Julian," You push the chair backwards in thought, looking up at the bright summer sky. The sun shines in your face, warming your skin. It's a nice feeling. "If you really want to get to know me, you'll come over for dinner tonight."

Julian wasn't going to admit it but he was excited at the prospect of dinner. The last time he shared time - much less a meal - with a woman, she ended up stealing his dope plants and lying to him about being in love. In all fairness, most people would have been wary of someone saying I love you within the first week of getting to know them, but Julian (for the most part) was a hopeless romantic. He liked the idea of a life with someone else.

Julian told himself that this was strictly business - that he was here to set the record straight. This wasn't get-to-know-you dinner, this wasn't a date. He was just here to let you know that he wasn't going to tolerate funny business. He just happened to be wearing his nicest clean black shirt and he just happened to be wearing one of his nicer pair of jeans - the ones that didn't have the holes in them. Julian knocks on your door. The two minutes he waits for you to answer feels like an eternity but when you open the door, he's glad he's waited.

"You got a hot date you're going to after this?"

"What, this?" You look down at the pink summer dress you're wearing, "This is casual." You had always been the more feminine type, enjoying softer clothes and pretty dresses. Plus, unlike jeans dresses were more comfortable. You usher him inside and he obliges, being careful to not spill his drink when he steps in.

"Dinner is served." Dinner being a massive fucking bowl of macaroni and cheese with cheap ass hot dogs. "Sorry it's not exactly the best, but -"

"It's fine, don't worry about it." Julian sets his glass down. He's actually ecstatic. Macaroni and cheese and fucking hotdogs? "You know, I don't know where you're from but around here this is a five-star meal."

You give a dry laugh. as Julian picks up his fork to eat. "You'll have to forgive me, I'm kind of new to the whole trailer park life and the whole being poor thing."

"Oh yeah? Where are you from?"

"Southern United States."

"What state?"

"Texas."

"That's a long way from here, basically on the other side of the continent. Why'd you come up this way?" Julian tells himself that he's not trying to get to know you because he's interested in you - he's trying to get to know you to get dirt on you, to know what he's up against.

"I needed an abortion." You answer dryly, "And even though it's been legal for some years now, no physician was wiling to perform one on me."

"Why come to Nova Scotia? Why not just go to another state?"

"Well, I figured things were just better here than they were there. Don't get me wrong, it's not perfect by any means but it's better than where I was from. At least here I know if I need the service again, it's a little more reliably accessible. Plus, it's not like I had anywhere or anyone I could turn to. So I just kind of . . . stayed."

"Heavy stuff." Julian sets down his fork, "Didn't have any family to turn to?"

"No, and even if I did they're not the kind of people I'd want to be around."

Julian could relate to that.

"So you just came to Canada for an abortion and then decided to stay? You know, when Americans come to Canada they want to go to Quebec. Nova Scotia isn't exactly on the top of the list, let alone Dartmouth. Let alone fucking Sunnyvale Trailer Park. Nobody just moves in here. Come on, (name) . . . what's the real reason why you're staying here?"

Your mouth runs dry as you consider answering him honestly. "Well, uh . . . you know . . ." You twiddle your thumbs a bit, "I came to Canada with my passport and got my abortion and then . . . I just uh . . ." There's a long pause as your appetite disappears completely. "I didn't have anywhere to go to so I just . . . never left . . . this place was the only place that'd rent to an illegal resident . . ."

"Holy fuck you don't have your papers?" Julian wasn't sure what kind of story he was expecting but it wasn't that. Now he feels like an asshole. "How did you get a job? How did you even afford this place?"

"Well, I had some savings so that was a good cushion, but when that ran out I was able to find a job working as a waitress at that little restaurant just out of town. I'm not technically on the payroll, they just don't make me report my tips, and any extra money is kind of . . . earned under the table." You respond sheepishly.

God, Julian feels like such a fucking jackass for being a raging asshole to you.

"That's . . . hard." Julian doesn't really know what else to say.

"Yeah."

"Well, I've shared my deepest darkest secret with you. Do you want to share anything with me?"

You and Julian talk well into the early hours of the morning, swapping life stories, funny anecdotes, and talking about all of the small things in between. Honestly, he feels at ease with you in a way he hasn't felt at ease before. The conversation flows naturally and even the silence you occasionally fall into feels comfortable. It's nearly two in the morning when you both look at the small clock hanging on your wall and realize the time.

". . . well, it's a little late . . ." You stretch in your chair, still sitting across the table from Julian. You don't really want him to go, but you've both run out of things to talk about and you still have some errands you have to run before work tomorrow. "You know, I have some things I gotta do tomorrow . . . but if you're feeling nice, maybe you can pay me back for dinner by making some for me. I'm usually too tired to cook when I get home . . . you know, only if you want to."

It's hard for Julian to say no to that face.

"What time do you get off work?"

. . .

Julian continues to insist that he doesn't feel some kind of way, that he's just taking the opportunity to really get to know you - you know, in case you ever pose a threat - but the nightly dinner-dates seem to differ.

"Why is it so hard to admit that you have a hard-on for (name)? It's so fucking obvious."

"It's not like that Ricky. You know, I have somewhere to be so why don't you just fuck off and give me some fucking space?"

"Oh yeah I know exactly where you want to be, all up in -"

The truth of the matter was that even though Julian fantasized about it at night, truly nothing had happened. You were sweet, kind, intelligent, patient, compassionate - a truly wonderful person. And that was the problem. Normally, Julian found himself happy to jump into a relationship, but he found himself afraid of making a fool of himself. Guys like him didn't get with girls like you. Simple as that. Besides, love just wasn't in the cards for Julian. It just never worked out like that.

Tonight was yet another night of disappointment. You had lingered on Julian's doorstep after dinner, hoping that maybe he'd make a move and at least give you a kiss goodnight - but the two of you simply stood there awkwardly until he nodded, saying he was probably going to go off to bed now. It was frustrating because you thought you were sending all of the right signals. Light touches, flirtatious giggles, risque comments - the works. But yet again, you find yourself leaving empty-handed. It wasn't that you weren't satisfied with the friendship, you really liked the dynamic the two of you had. You liked that Julian showed you ways to save money, ways to spruce up the trailer home so it felt more roomy, showed you around town a bit - but it left you feeling a bit stupid because you could have sworn the two of you had something more. You could just feel it. But he never addressed it and it drove you crazy.

You knock on the door nervously, your hands shaking.

Julian answers the door again. "What's going on?"

"I don't want to go home just yet. This is about the time J-Roc films his adult films. Can I just sit here for thirty more minutes? He usually finishes up around one in the morning or so."

"Uh, yeah, sure, come on in. You can hang out here. I have to shower because, you know, I got somewhere to be in the morning -" Tomorrow was the day he was supposed to drop off the product with the prison guards, "- normally I'd wait up but I got some important stuff I gotta take care of tomorrow. I'm about to get ready for bed, so you can just leave whenever you're ready."

"Alright."

You find yourself sitting awkwardly on the couch as Julian disappears into the bathroom. The trailer shakes a bit when he turns on the water and you can hear the pipes rush before the water falls like rain into the tub. You sit in silence and contemplate. You couldn't keep going back and forth like this, it'd get nowhere. He had hinted a few times at maybe having feelings. Sometimes his hand would linger on the small of your back too long when he was moving past you, or he'd stand too close to you - so close your shoulders would touch - whenever he got the chance. But nothing would ever come of it, and you were tired of it. You think about maybe joining him in the shower but that's too ballsy of a move, so you simply sit there and listen to the shower run until it's turned off. There's more shuffling and you can hear him go into his room. The hallway light turns off and the door clicks close. You should probably get going by now, but you can't bring yourself to just leave.

. . .

You feel like a psychopath drifting down the hallway. You only came down here to use the bathroom, but now you were standing at his bedroom door - contemplating whether or not you should knock on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Ricky, is that you? I told you to stop picking my fucking lock -"

"No," You answer meekly, "It's me. I uh, wanted to take that book back I lent you before I went home. I didn't see it in your living room so I figured you might be keeping it in here."

Julian stares up at the ceiling in thought. Julian is pretty book-smart and it doesn't take a genius to know the game you're running. He's been down this road a thousand times. He wants to say yes, but there's still the lingering fear of ruining the good friendship that's already there.

Julian turns his head to look at his nightstand, the small paperback book sat there. Shit, maybe you weren't playing any games.

"Yeah, give me a moment, I'll come bring it to you."

"You don't have to go through that trouble, I'll just come get it real quick . . . if that's alright with you."

". . . that's alright with me."

You gently push the door open, slipping through before gently closing the door behind you. You can only see the outline of Julian's body in the dark, a few shadows illuminated by the moonlight that drifts in through the blinds.

"It's right over here." You see the shadow of Julian's hand reach over and grab the thick book. Infinite Jest.

"I'll come get it." You pull yourself up onto the bed, you're knees on either side of his feet. Gently, you shimmy your way up, crawling over him on your hands and knees. Julian shifts a bit. Both of your breaths are heavy and as you sit yourself comfortably on his waist, you watch his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. Gently, you pluck the book from his hand. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Julian's voice is barely over a whisper.

You thumb through the thick book, landing on a page barely illuminated by the moonlight, reading the page you've thumbed to. "Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it." Truer words have never been spoken. Like everything in life, Julian has sunk his fingernails so deep into it he's drawn blood. He likes to pretend he can let things go, but he can't.

Julian's hands gently grip at your hips, squeezing them softly - almost like he's afraid that if he squeezes too tight he'll hurt you. His fingers grip at your waist, gently pushing your hips backwards, guiding them in a gentle rocking motion against him. Your hips follow the movement of his hands, rocking against him with a pleased hum.

"Is that right?" Julian asks in a whisper.

"That's right." You respond gently.

"Me included?" He can't hope that you want him so bad that you'd sink your nails so deep into him that he'd never be able to leave you, even if he wanted to. And even if you wanted to leave him, he'd probably stay around and beg for you to take him back anyway.

"If you'll let me."

If he wasn't rock hard before he's rock fucking hard now. "I want you." Julian's voice is hoarse, completely contradicting his typically firm and masculine present. He melts under you. Whether he wanted to believe it or not, Julian was a romantic and the touch of a woman he really valued meant a lot to him. His breath is labored as he guides your hips against him, "Please, I want you."

If this were someone else in the park, it'd be a different story. Sleeping around with people in the park for Julian wasn't about emotions, it was about releasing a physical need, and when you can't keep a boyfriend sometimes you have to turn to your neighbors for some help. Everyone slept with everyone. But you're not them, this isn't just casual for Julian - he doesn't want to fuck it up. He shudders when your fingertips drag across his chest, tracing patterns and circles into his shirt as you rock against him, grinding your hips downwards to create more friction. You're a tease, you take your time, and he hates it but he loves it. Two large hands reach up to cup your breasts over your shirt gently, His hands trail downwards, over your abdomen, grabbing gently at your stomach for a short moment before finding themselves at the hem of your shirt.

"What are you waiting for?" You ask him between small breaths, still making rhytmic riding motions. It's a softly-asked question but also a plea for action. "Please, Julian. I've wanted this since the moment I saw you."

"God, fuck you're so fucking hot." It's like a flip switched in his head and he can't hold himself back anymore. Strong hands placed firmly on your hips flip you onto your back. Now he's on top of you, every part of him everywhere. His lips touch yours in a kiss, teeth pull at the skin of your neck, and tongue sooths the freshly bruised areas by rubbing itself on it in small circles. Like always, he can't help himself, and unlike recently, he stops wasting time.

Your shirt is the first thing to come off - Julian helps shimmy it off of you, throwing it to the side. The next thing to come off is your pajama pants, which he also tosses to the side after helping shimmy it off of you. He has half a mind to compliment the pretty color of your underwear and tell you it looks good on you, but he doesn't pay it any mind since it's about to come off anyways. His hands lift you up by the small of your back just long enough for him to unclasp your bra, letting you fall back down onto the bed. His hands hook underneath your knees, lifting them up and pushing your legs up so he can help slide your underwear easily off of your body. You're left naked under him while he remains fully clothed, lowering himself onto you before you can complain that he hasn't undressed yet.

His thumbs roll against your nipples, gently pinching and pulling at them before taking them into his mouth. Julian has never been the most gentle lover, especially when he gets excited, always eager to take matters into his own hands - but that's part of his appeal.

Kisses trail down your stomach, followed by him dragging his tongue along the skin, pushing your legs apart. He takes his time adorning your inner thighs with kisses, sucking on the skin and taking it between his teeth. He likes the way he makes you whimper and moan, it's intoxicating. But eventually the teasing becomes too much even for him, he's growing impatient, so he lends his tongue to you, circling it around your clit, strong nose pressed into sensitive skin.

Your body writhes as you feel a familiar pressure build in your abdomen, thighs tightening around his head so tight he thought he might suffocate. What a way to go that would be. Your fingers curl into his short hair, gripping and pulling at his hair while your toes curl. You whimper but that only encourages him to slowly push his thick index finger into you, followed by a second after you properly adjusted. His mouth and fingers work in tandem, his fingers curling and pressing inside of you in a come hither motion while his tongue continues to stroke your clit.

"Fuck, Julian, god, fuck -" But before you can climax, he's gone - pulling away. If Julian enjoys anything, it's edging. There's just something about bringing a woman to climax and leaving them nearly in tears that turns him on.

"You look disappointed." Julian catches a glimpse of your lopsided frown illuminated in the moonlight, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it." His shirt is pulled over his head, exposing his bare chest. When you touch the muscle, it's firm from years of consistent working-out. You trace a tattoos that look like they were done with a sewing needle and ink - probably stick and poke tattoos - but Julian frowns. He doesn't like those tattoos, he's not proud of them and he's not proud of his time spent in jail. But you only offer him an encouraging smile and place your palm over the tattoo before dragging your hand down to his belt, pulling at the buckle. Julian offers you a half-hearted smile. "Can't wait?"

Julian pushes your hand out of the way gently, taking his time to unfasten his belt and slowly pulling it through the loops. The belt is tossed to the side, along with his pants and underwear, leaving you both equals. Two hands hook themselves underneath your knees, placing your ankles on his shoulders while he uses his right hand to stroke his cock a bit, helping to harden himself up more. Sometimes the nerves just get to you.

"Holy fuck Julian you're big, you gotta be careful with that thing you're carrying a whole fucking concealed weapon -"

Julian chuckles a bit at the comment but presses a gentle kiss to your ankles. "I'll be careful with you if that's what you're trying to say."

The tip is pushed in slowly with great discomfort, pushing himself in. There's a stiff moment of silence as you let out a labored breath.

"You good?" he asks.

You nod, dragging your teeth over your bottom lip. Julian takes his thumb against your bottom lip, peeling it out from underneath your teeth. His thumb drags your bottom lip down, exposing the inside of it before pushing his thumb into your mouth. Your lips wrap around his thumb, letting your tongue slide against the skin, sucking on the appendage as he pulls out just a bit, repositioning himself before he thrusts back in. Your body pushes upwards with the motion, head pressing against the headboard slightly. His thumb is still pressed in your mouth while his free hand keeps hooked underneath your knee, pushing it backwards so he can angle himself better - each thrust pushing itself deeper inside of you. Sweat coats his chest and runs down the side of his face, abdomen flexing the closer he gets to coming, but he restrains himself - wanting to ride it out for as long as he could.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Oh, God, Julian -"

"Fuck, (name)."

"Julian -"

"(Name), (Name), (Name)."

"I heard you did a real good job of running that girl out of the trailer park last night, Julian."

"Hey, Barbara, why don't you fuck off?"

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hikikolol · 11 months

Text

*ready, action*

ham wonjin

there's no one better than asking your best friend to help you film a content

warning!! use of sex toys, reader being in OF, edging (r), dacryphilia, use of "sir"

— 2.5k words

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

"fuck please fill me up, oh my god" you glanced at the viewfinder that was connected to your monitor to see if the angle of was right. your set up was hella expensive and thanks to your viewers, you could afford it the month you joined onlyfans. a triple monitor hooked onto your pc that was also powered by the most high-end and powerful cpu ever to date, it was also helpful having so many monitors to use as your viewfinder for your cameras, the four movie-rated cameras that are always propped up onto their respective tripods. two light boxes that are on either side of your room to fix the light fixtures for your film, it was all too great, very professional.

you were too lost in your own world to notice what time it was, pleasure building up more and more as your viewers paid a ridiculous amount to see you suffer— pleasure —you were doing a live stream, for every tip you got; depending on how much, the vibrator you held against you would automatically heighten in speed. you had no control over it and your ability to cum was in your viewers' reach, it had your legs shaking for about two hours now, they had been denying your climax for that long and it had your eyes pool with tears but they can't see it for you are a faceless streamer. strings of polite requests dripped out of your mouth as you begged for them to make you cum, a generous viewer had pain plenty, finally urging the vibrator to go on full speed for ten seconds making you squirt inevitably.

you took your time to breathe as you gave them encouragments of gratitude for making you come, you changed the camera angle from your little remote and started bidding your goodbyes as you turned it off. heaving a deep sigh at the mess you were about to clean up, you stood up and took your equipments off piece by piece as you placed them back into their respective bags to stuff them into the closet door in your room. you have always kept your business private from your friends; most of them being men, you didn't want them knowing what kind of stuff you do for a living. going by an online streamer when they asked but never gave them the id.

putting your stuff aside and hiding it by a huge blanket, you started putting on some fresh clothes that you put aside before you started streaming. a hoodie you came to love from your best friend and some shorts that were very overworn. wonjin, the said best friend, was going to come over tonight to play some games on your set up. he had always adored your set up since he deemed it as the powerhouse of all pcs and therefore, he loved playing his games on it. most of the apps being his and his account logged in, you never minded it, it gave you a piece of mind that it was worth paying so much money for.

filling a cup with some water, you jumped at the sudden loud ring of the keypad being unlocked, wonjin inviting himself in with some bags of take-out in his hands, "there's my hoodie, i was wondering if i lost it" "hello to you too, what's the take out for tonight?" "chicken and beer" you nodded as he made himself home at your living room, setting on the coffee table as you reached for some plates and cutlery. moving to his side, you took your remote and chose a movie to play as a background while you both ate and talked. it's something you loved doing with wonjin, despite his busy schedule in his university and part time job as a growing actor, he has never failed to spend his off days with you. though at times he knows you love your space, he also knows you like having company around so lounging without even talking was the norm between the both of you.

-- -- --

"hey, i'm going to download some mods for my game, would that be alright?" wonjin asked, "yeah, sure, just make sure it's from a safe site, i guess" both of you were now in your bedroom, wonjin sat in front of your set up while you laid on your bed, scrolling through endless tiktoks from your phone. the clicks from your keyboard as well as the mouse filled your room as you fell into a light nap from the therapeutic noises.

"what the fuck?"

followed by a moan stirred you up into your sleep, a shriek coming from wonjin's moth soon follow after, making you sit up on your bed. "why the hell are you screaming?" your eyes trailed onto one of the monitors by wonjin's side as you hear another moan coming out of your speakers— your moan. you scrambled off of your bed to wonjin's side as you exit the video he was watching, it was a video you filmed earlier in the day as a pay per view for your fans. you looked over to your side, a wide-eyed wonjin staring back at your face, "y/n what the fuck was that?" you sighed and sat on the corner of your bed. "first of all, why were you snooping around?" "i wasn't! i was fixing my mods and it wasn't starting up so i looked at the files and that video somehow ended up in the folder!" you looked down, you couldn't look at him in the eye after he watched you basically fuck yourself with a plastic dildo. deciding it was best to tell him the truth, wonjin wouldn't turn a blind eye, you trusted him too much to do that. he may feel a little awkward but it would pass, it's wonjin afterall.

"i do it as a living, i stream and i upload videos for my...uhh... followers" starting to lift your head up to look at him properly, "you...you're a pornstar?" "what? no! i mean, technically, but i do it by myself and anonymously. they can't see my face and i edit my voice so it isn't my real one" "since when?" "since i moved here. when i got fired, this was the fastest way to earn money at the little time i was given to pay the rent" you both fell into an awkward silence, his finger now tapping at the side of your table, cheeks puffed and eyes wide as he took in everything you said, "is it forced? i mean you know you can ask us for help with finances, right? we'll lend you any amount just say the word" he stood up from his seat to take both of your hands in his whilst he made you look into his eyes, "no, it isn't, i mean- yeah maybe at first but i grew to really enjoy it" he was taken aback that's for sure, he leaned onto your chair as he melted onto it, it was like his whole world collapsed onto his shoulders as every word came out of your mouth.

-- -- --

a few days passed since the conversation with wonjin had happened, thankfully, he grew calmer and accepted the fact that you were doing something very...erotic for a living. he never did grow awkward after the encounter which you were grateful for, but now is your recent problem. your viewers grew tired of you doing things alone, they wanted spice, something new, they wanted thrill. now you could have looked for someone in your field to do it with you, a collab per say but you weren't too comfortable doing it with someone you didn't actually know. here you were dialling the very person that came across your sex tape, you trusted him enough, you know he wouldn't judge, and you have his files ready to be deleted if he said something degrading (out of sex), it was all too perfect.

"hello?" a groggy voice answered,

"are you just waking up? wanj, it's 3 pm"

"and? why did you call?"

"come over please, i need help. i'll explain it when you're here" you ended the call right after, not wanting to explain it through the phone with him just waking up. screaming into your pillow from the tension you were feeling, you were nervous of course, telling him about your job and asking him for help was completely different and it could lead to a very awkward atmosphere when he does reject it. your video was due in four days too so it wasn't an ample time to find another guy to do it with.

you heard your door open about 20 minutes after, you took the time to set your equipments up just in case he approved on doing it, it would save you time and him backing out last minute. you walked out into your living room before he got the chance to look into your bedroom. you motioned for him to sit on the couch as you went to get him some coke from the fridge. "what's this about?" he asked, "you're the only one that knows about my job and...i kind of need your help that uhm.. involves my job" the words came out ever so slowly, handing him the now opened can of coke, "what about your job? are you planning on quitting?" "no, it's uhh... to explain it plainly, my viewers wants more, they're tired of seeing me do things alone so they suggested i find someone that could...help me" voice trailing off as you looked to the ground, it's as if you could feel the heat radiating off of wonjin's body with what you had just told him. he stood up and paced around the living room a bit to process what you just had said, there's another thing to note about all of this; a few years ago, wonjin had confessed that he liked you. you rejected him as you weren't sure if you were quite ready to be in a relationship just yet and thankfully, that didn't ruin your friendship with him— it actually grew from then on, you were almost inseparable by now. asking him to do this was almost sending him to his deathbed, you knew this but you still chose to be selfish and asked him for the favor.

"wait. what kind of help of help are we talking about here?"

"well i was thinking you could be in the video, no face included of course, and you'd be holding onto this remote. it's kind of like a pov set up so you'd be holding onto the camera while-"

"hold up, sorry, step back a bit. you want me in the video helping to pleasure you?"

"well, that's the plan...listen, if you're uncomfortable to do it, i can look for another pers-"

"no! i'll do it! just..teach me for a bit, i'm new to all of this so, let me learn"

you looked back at him surprised, you didn't think it was that easy to convince him to do it. he might still have some feelings for you afterall. you gave him a nod and led him to your room, showing him your set up and how it worked; handing him a handheld camera to let him get used to the pov camerawork, holding it up to his face, he turned to you, seeing you doe eyes looking up at the camera from his upper angle, "how is it? are you doing okay?" oh he is not gonna be able to live through the night "yeah just fine, you? you sure you wanna do this?" a smile and a curt nod followed through the viewfinder of the camera, his cheeks flaring up at the confidence you were oozing out of. sharing more bits of how you usually did things around when you'd film, telling him how the monitors were your viewfinder and how you could tell the video was being filmed right. he listened diligently and tried to remember which was which.

"now this; is the remote, there are buttons there to fasten the vibrations and such. experiment around it, it'll be fun!" handing him the small pink remote, its silicone body fit in his hand perfectly, running his thumb lightly on the buttons that were on the device, his eyes widened a bit this must be a fucking dream.

-- -- --

you were a whimpering mess. you could've came a long time ago but no, wonjin has been edging you for three hours now. your videos came up to only an hour and a half at most, you had plenty of footage already but he still kept on going. "please, please sir, please let me cum, i can't take it anymore, please!" sobbing into the pillow, you felt your stomach tighten from the upcoming orgasm.

before filming the video, you had asked wonjin what he wanted to be addressed, giving him examples of names and such but what surprised you the most was when he said sir. he said it so confidently too, giving you a smug look whilst you fumble out words but decided it was best either way. there you were now, ass up on the bed whilst he sat on your office chair by your desk, his right hand on the camera nearing his face while the left held onto the remote. your legs were shaking at this point, barely keeping your back in check, you didn't even bother looking at the monitors about an hour in, you were just desperate in releasing your high.

you didn't even notice how wonjin stood up from his seat and slowly walked towards you until you felt his hand push you back lower to raise your ass up, his hands finding their way to the middle of your legs to stretch them apart giving him the most perfect view. he couldn't help it, his hands lingered on for a bit longer, caressing your soft skin finding its way higher and higher until it reached your clit. you screamed for him as he circled around, "cum for me, baby" his direct command sent chills down your spine, speeding his actions made you lose your mind as you came, screaming and shaking whilst you emptied yourself. slowly moving your legs to close; you felt your sheets oh fuck you squirted...a lot. muttering curses under your harboured breaths, wonjin ended the recording and walked over to your desk to get the towel you put earlier and started cleaning you up.

"you mind helping me next?" wonjin asked as he reached to pat your head, if looks could kill; he would've been six feet under as you glared at him, "you edged me for three fucking hours, ham wonjin" he let out a breathy laugh whilst helping you up. "and you did great" "take your clothes off and lay down. i'm getting my fucking revenge"

• ₊ ༝ · ˖ ₊ ˚ 。 . ⋆• ₊ ༝ · ˖ ₊ ˚ 。 . ⋆• ₊ ༝ · ˖ ₊ ˚ 。 . ⋆

hello luvs!!! hope you like this HAHAHAHA specially 🫠 anon, noah, and sam ehem i might make a part 2 for here since it was mostly plot and little smut, i'm not too sure when that will be posted but yeah! i had a lot of fun making this and i was supposed to release it as a bday gift to myself but i got busy so ig this is a belated bday gift HAHAHAHAH see u soon luvies!!

#cravity smut #wonjin smut #hikikolol-vityy

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