#9am and im tearing up before work | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hansolmates · 4 years

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remote learning (m)

summary; working remote sucks, and you would love a little relief. after buying a new toy to blow off some steam, you’re baffled when you can’t cum. however, jungkook thinks you’re doing it wrong, and shows you a thing or two. pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, slightly insecure mc, this is pure FILTH—use of a remote controlled vibrator, do not and i repeat DO NOT try foreplay during a zoom call in the event u get fired im not responsible, phone sex, jungkook’s a meanie in control, cum eating, doggy, and topping it off with some sweet missionary bc jk has purty eyes, unprotected (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 5.7k a/n; this fic manifested bc of work. and i!! am!! frustrated!! i think we all need a lil jk relief so here it goes! as always ty to @chillingtae / @eerieedits for this FANTASTIC fic banner, please go check vivi out if u have taste okok part 2: distance learning drabbles; 01

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“Tomorrow morning, same time at 9AM. Remember to have your reports alphabetized and itemized,” your supervisor says, but the only thing you can focus on is the abnormal amount of bonsai plants in his living room.

“Alright now it’s time for the union to talk COVID protocol,” you frown when Mr. Kim moves ownership of the Zoom call to your union rep, who pulls up a Powerpoint. You feel your eyes burn at the sight: an itinerary containing over thirty-eight slides.

“For fuck’s sake—”

You so desperately want to turn off the camera and flop in your bed. Since working remotely you haven’t been operating in the most ideal of workspaces. You live in a one-room apartment with a communal kitchen downstairs, so you really only have four square meters to stretch your limbs around between breaks. You’ve pushed your bed aside and shoved an office chair between the bed and the wall, leaving you to squirm between ten centimeters of space. You have no desk because well, the little rectangle space is prioritized for your portable stove and meals.

The meeting drones on for another hour, until your brain melts to liquid and your limbs feel like Jell-O. Furthering your anxiety as they talk about protocol that never ends up happening, delays that continue to pile up, and the anger that’s been bubbling between the higher ups and little goldfish employees like you.

When you finally shut off the camera and fling your laptop under the bed, you still feel unsettled. Probably because your work life and home life have merged together, and it’s hard for you to separate work and pleasure.

Speaking of pleasure.

Your hand blindly reaches under your bed, looking for the pretty pink oval you purchased last week. Cleaned and ready to use, the little remote-controlled vibrator sits plainly in your palm.

Needless to stay you’ve been in a bit of a dry spot these past few months. With a fear to go out and meet someone new, you’ve been left with yourself and your fantasies. That’s fine, but lately your old vibrator isn’t cutting it. It’s unfortunate, you think you’re messing up your libido by buying toy after toy, but you’re horny and lonely.

Linking your phone’s app to the remote, you ignore the messages that have been beeping your feed since early morning.

[11:21] Jeon: let’s do lunch!

[11:23] Jeon: hehe i feel like i belong in mean girls. Do lunch💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️

[2:20] Jeon: u loozer. Come eat dinner with us upstairs @6

[2:24] Jeon: dropping off a snack for u

Another element of feeling horny and lonely? Jeon Jungkook.

You two shouldn’t have even met each other. You live off crumbs on the first floor while he and his roommates are livin’ it up on top in the penthouse. One day a few months ago he crashed into you while working out, having run up and down the whole flight of stairs at least three times before deciding to collapse on you between the second and first floor.

Despite the black mask that hugged his sharp jawline, you had felt nothing but attractiveness ooze off of him. Under his hoodie was nothing but curved muscle. He smelled so soft and sweet despite the fact that he was damp with sweat.

The rest is history. After that day he seemed to show up everywhere, jogging more prominently on your floor and doing exercises at your level’s gym. He says he likes you, likes your company. He’s wormed his way intermittently, whether he’s seeing you struggle with an armful of groceries or when he hears you screaming over an Among Us match (according to Jungkook, the walls are thinner on the bottom floors.)

The idea of Jungkook doting on you doubly frustrates you. He seemingly appears as the perfect man, unaffected by the stresses of the world. Jungkook’s job lets him work from home anyway, and he definitely had enough room in the penthouse for his own office. He works out, probably has a girlfriend and enough friends for you to gradually phase out of this weird neighbor interest.

So you ignore his seemingly harmless messages, focusing on getting the settings right on the vibrator. You feel your pussy jolt a little in excitement, watching the silver and pearl pink oval shake in your grasp. You smile a bit to yourself, immediately finding your iPad for your favorite videos and some pillows to support your back.

Half an hour later however, that excitement soon goes sour.

“Fuck,” you bite your lip, frustrated tears streaming down your face, “fuck fuck fuck!”

This isn’t a set of explicatives out of pleasure, unfortunately.

No matter what you do, you won’t cum. You can’t cum. Barely wet, hardly a drop glossing your folds. You don’t even want to bother getting out the lube at this point because you are so disappointed.

The vibrator is going at the highest setting, one that your neighbors can probably hear if they were home at this time of the day. You cease to care at this point, because the job is undone because you haven’t come undone.

You don’t know why this is happening. Maybe it’s because you’ve had the liberty to touch yourself in complete silence, now that your neighbors have been confined to their homes indefinitely. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve relied only on your touch, that your body is tired of the monotony and needs more.

You bang the heels of your feet against your flimsy mattress, feeling whiny and utterly dissatisfied. Pulling the vibrator from your clit, you glare at the infuriating toy.

“You’re supposed to be helping me out of my dry spell,” you chastise, throwing the toy across the bed, sliding onto the carpet, “I get you’re not Jeon’s dick, but you gotta help a sister out.”

With a sigh, you fall into a bout of exhaustion. Not from a round of orgasms, but from the week’s stress and no way to let it out.

You wake up bleary and disoriented, practically melding through the mattress. The sky is pink and blue, washed in a sea of corals and purples. It comes from the incessant banging.

“Stop it,” you whine more to yourself than whoever dares to disturb your sleep, pulling up your panties and a pair of navy dolphin-trim shorts. “Whoever you are I’m comin’ so stop!”

Swinging the door open in two strides you’re met with a chipper Jeon Jungkook; looking all cute and sweet in his big hoodie and smelling like a rosebud.

“It’s 6:30,” he narrows his eyes playfully at you, “dinner’s in the oven.”

“You left your oven on,” you deadpan, turning around to grimace at the mess that’s your one-room apartment.

“Yes, so we have exactly ten minutes before my kitchen explodes in flames,” Jungkook chirps, closing the door behind you.

You don’t even bother to tell him to excuse the mess, ignore the pile of bras hanging on your vanity and the unpacked groceries that sit at the edge of your mini-fridge. It’s far too late to salvage your dignity and Jungkook’s too damn polite to call you out on your state of slob. Although, as you pull out a bottle of wine tucked in the back of your fridge you blurt, “I can hear your fingers tingling to clean up my mess.”

When you turn around Jungkook stuffs his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, supposedly to stop himself from cleaning up. With a pout he says, “Can’t help it, Jimin says I’m currently manifesting a strong display of Virgo energy this month. Whatever that means.”

Jabbing your feet in a pair of slides you follow Jungkook out the door. The hallways are quiet and barren, yet the silence isn’t suffocating as you two pile into the elevator. Jungkook opens the keypad underneath the regular boring buttons, revealing a sleek little set of light-up buttons that have the code to the penthouse. Faaaannnnccy.

“Tryna look?” he jokes, cupping his hands to block your vision.

You scoff, “I’m sure it’s something easy like 0000.”

“You’re wrong. It’s 1234,” he replies cheekily.

The door dings open and you’re met with yet another door. Jungkook presses his thumb to the biometric scanner, and a pleasant ringer tings in response.

The penthouse smells like a mix of tonight’s dinner, savory, combined with a cinnamon apple candle. Jungkook is a fan of scented candles, ever since he got a whiff of your lavender vanilla burner.

“Where’s Taehyung?” you ask, more out of your own anxiousness than anything. Taehyung’s your buffer, the hyper roommate being someone to distract you from Jungkook’s incessant aura.

“Dunno,” he shrugs, flicking on the oven light to peer inside. You see the telltale signs of a mean lasagna, the shredded cheese on top crisping to a delicious-looking golden brown, “anyway, you’re my friend first.”

As grotesque as it sounds, Jungkook always finds his way to worm his way under your skin and find homage there. “Possessive much?” you quirk a brow, folding your arms over your chest even though there’s nothing to hide.

“What can I say,” Jungkook’s legs stretch out as he squats down to your level, “I really fell for you.”

“Gross,” you try to convince yourself, ignoring the thudding in your chest, “you technically fell on me, weirdo.”

Dinner is a quick affair. He cuts slices of lasagna and brings it to the couch, where you’re pouring glasses of wine in crystal glasses. They’re so clean and shiny you can see your reflection in the gold liquid. You grimace at the bottle, normally this would be poured in a mug or your sippy cup, tonight your liquid’s getting a high-end pour.

You two pull up an old anime to fill up the room, but most of it is spent in playful banter. Jungkook prattles on about his day, showing you all the cool updates he’s achieved during work. An app developer. A very on-brand, lucrative job for him. You love your job but it isn’t nearly as exciting as Jungkook’s, so you just let yourself be supportive and ask questions when needed.

When the subject of you comes up, you shake your head and stuff your face with another cut of al dente pasta.

“Not interestin’ Jeon,” you mumble, groaning at how delicious his cooking is. What can’t he do? “Is this oregano? Is the secret ingredient toasted oregano—”

“You’re deflecting.”

Your shoulders slump, “I’m not very interesting, I tell you everything I do during the week and nothing has changed since March.”

“Oh, not everything,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. You furrow your brows as his hands stuff themselves in his hoodie pocket. Is he upset you won’t tell him about your work stress? “And you’re very interesting, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah?” a small smile tugs on your lips. You sink further into his cottonball of a couch, feeling utterly soft and meldable at his words.

“Very,” Jungkook gets up from the couch, looking down at you, “want something sweet?”

The prospect of dessert has you excited. Jungkook really is the perfect man, so kind and knows exactly when you’re craving something for your sweet tooth. You move to get up, only for you to sink further between the two large cushions of the loveseat. “Help me, ’m stuck,” you pout.

Jungkook giggles, and holds out his palm, “Hand,” he says simply.

You immediately reach for his larger palm, and you gasp when you feel something cold and soft touch your palm. As if you’ve been burned, you tug your hand back. But Jungkook’s hand is massive, the large ink-painted palm curling around your own, and it’s almost painful the way he clutches your hand so fiercely.

When he’s sure you’re not going to drop it, he releases your hand.

Nestled in your palm, is the new vibrator you left on the carpet this afternoon.

“Jeon,” you laugh tonelessly, hating the way Jungkook’s neutral expression mocks you, “you found my USB? Thanks, I know—”

“Know that you’re having a hard time coming?” Carefully extracting your plate from your lap, he places it on the coffee table before Jungkook cages you between the couch. You shrink further into the plush seat, “I tried being a good neighbor, but you didn’t answer my texts. I heard you when I tried dropping off some snacks before dinner. Didn’t know you were into toys.”

“Oh, c’mon Jeon. It’s 2020 and we’re confined,” well, in this scenario you’re confined, “everyone has a sex toy.”

“Hm, I don’t have one,” Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, pretending to be deep in thought, “so, can you be my toy?”

Fuck.

It’s then that you feel the tell-tale signs of arousal. Your eyes widen, innocently surprised at the fact that Jeon Jungkook contained so much power in so few words. You snap your legs shut immediately, sealing any possibility of you dripping down your panties.

“I heard how disappointed you were, doll,” his arms have no problems as he bends down so he’s eye-level with your crotch, “it was pathetic, really. You couldn’t even cum on your own? You need someone to help you?”

“N-no,” you cross your arms defensively, frowning, “you–you’re being mean, Jeon.”

“And what, you’re gonna cry about it?” Jungkook smirks, now sitting on his knees. His hands run over the velvety fabric of the couch, making a beeline for your thighs. Gooseflesh rises to the surface, and he immediately presses down to iron out the little bumps that travel across your skin, “I do wanna make you cry, but not because you can’t cum. You’ll cry because of how good I’m gonna make you feel.”

You gape, clutching the vibrator in your hand.

A little bit of your sweet, cute Jungkook resurfaces, softening when he notices your lack of response, “If you’ll let me, of course.”

You finally drag the words from your throat, “I-it’s been a long time since I’ve… been with someone.”

He tilts his head, “Same here. I just figured we could break that spell together.”

What are you going to say? No? A dishonor to your sexuality, that would be. Jungkook’s offering himself up on a silver platter, and even though you do wish it was a little more you’ll take the sex.

You nod, forgetting to speak again. Jungkook chuckles.

“I want to hear you say it, doll.”

Doll. Like you’re his little fucktoy, malleable and bendable to all his whims. Fuck, why is that so hot to you? “Yes, I want to have sex with you,” you declare, your voice sounding more breathy than confident, “a-and, you can be mean. If you want.”

His thumbs press little light indents in your skin, over and over as if fascinated by the way your skin is so soft and gummy in his grip. “Okay,” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to pull out his phone, jabbing a few things that you don’t see, “let’s do a little test drive, then.”

In seconds, the little egg vibrates in your touch. He puts it on the lowest setting, a soft buzz echoing in the large living room, then at a bruising pace that forces you to curl your fingers around it otherwise it’d fall. Your eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s, who’s focusing entirely on the way the pink and silver egg moves, dilated in interest.

“Fuck, and you thought this thing was broken?” he asks, taking it out of your palm and turning off the app.

“Maybe I’m the broken one,” you admit softly, wringing your shirt.

Silence seeps. Jungkook looks at you, brows furrowed as if he’s annoyed. “Don’t ever say that,” when you don’t respond, he grabs your chin, and you gasp when he forces you to look at him, “you’re not broken, doll. Everyone’s body is different, and we’re going to discover yours together. Got it?”

“Y-yes,” you reply immediately, mesmerized by his seriousness.

“Good,” he slaps the vibrator back in your palm, “and in case you’re wondering, this goes inside.”

“I know how it works,” you scowl, “but won’t you show me, just in case?”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Jungkook gets up for good, piling the dishes in his arms and walking to the sink. You immediately miss his warmth, “but I think patience is a virtue. I have a developer meeting with some clients in America a little bit, actually. So just wait for my call, yeah?”

You frown, looking down at the vibrator in your hands. How much longer would you have to wait?

It happens at exactly three in the afternoon the next day, at the start of your staff meeting. You’re so tired of the same information being thrown back and forth, coupled with Brian and Jae having to fight over some mundane subject in the itinerary that no one cares about. For goodness sake, it’s Friday! What else would you possibly need to be meeting about?

You’re wearing a button-down dress shirt on top, no pants on the bottom. Your bare feet slap against the hardwood floor, antsy. It’s been a long day at work and your back hurts, you’re half tempted to dip out of this meeting and hope no one notices.

Your phone buzzes on your bed, and you blanch.

[3:01] Jeon: thanks for waiting, doll. It’s time

[3:01] Jeon: put it in

Shamelessly, your vibrator sits next to your phone, cleaned and ready to go.

[3:02] Jeon: need help? Answer my call

Making sure that your Zoom call is muted, you quickly answer the incoming phone call. Jungkook and you say nothing at first, waiting. The phone just ticks with the amount of time passing, one minute, two minutes, and so on.

Mr. Kim drones unknowingly, “So when we do return to live instruction, expect a strict process when returning. PPE must be enforced so our response team will—”

“How wet were you last night when you went home?” Jungkook asks languidly, speaking over your boss’ voice.

Your eyes widen, flickering back and forth between the phone and the camera displaying Mr. Kim’s boring speech.

“Doll, are you hard of hearing?”

“N-no,” your lips barely move, eyes glued to the camera and plastering an expressionless face, “I heard you.”

“Then give me an answer,” he says patiently, “how wet were you?”

“Very wet.”

“Little more detail.”

“Soaking wet,” you flush, thankful that your work laptop can only stream in 360p. “I haven’t gotten that wet in such—such a long time. My pussy was practically clinging to my underwear when I washed up that night.”

A heady, heavy groan resonates through your phone. You feel that voice straight into your panties, jolting the nerves awake.

“Fuck, you have a way with words, don’t you?” Jungkook chuckles breathlessly, “c’mon, touch yourself for me. Swirl your fingers around your clit, slowly.”

It takes a second for you to position yourself, spreading your legs in a way that your coworkers don’t question why you’re moving so much. A quick scan over all the tired faces says that you’re okay. Shyly, you press your fingers against your clit, doing as he says.

“Oh,” you say more to yourself than him, feeling the wetness already coating your fingers. This is earlier than usual.

“What?”

“I’m already wet,” you say, amazed, “I haven’t gotten wet this quickly in a long time.”

He scoffs, “If you’re so wet now, shove it in.”

You frown. You did tell him to be mean. But the idea of him telling you what to do, giving you all the porn-worthy experiences to accomplish has you relenting. Discreetly grabbing the egg from the bed, you bring it down to your panties. Swirling the cold metal around your clit, you coat it in your juices.

It’s still a little too early to be putting anything in, but you can take it. Slowly relaxing, you slip the little egg in your pussy, wiggling it a little to make sure it’s secure. It’s a strange sort of pressure, and it pokes against your clit from the inside, but you enjoy the stretch.

“It’s in,” you reply softly.

“Good.”

You wait. You listen to Jae make yet another speech about the importance of masks and gloves, and then Brian has to interject and say that gloves are literally useless because they spread germs around no matter what. Even though everyone else is muted, you can practically feel the misery seeping through the screen. For a second you almost forget about Jungkook on the line. Why isn’t Mr. Kim stopping them? This is the thin line stopping you from the weekend, unbelievable!

“Eep!” you jolt in your cheap seat, the egg buzzing in your pussy. Your hands fly out, gripping the edges of your computer.

It hits different when Jungkook is in control. Knowing that with a flick of his thumb he can have you careening, whining for more or less depending on how hard he wants you go. Your folds hug the egg, nestling it a fleshy grip as it brushes against your clit the more you squirm.

“You look so pretty, trying so hard to hold in your moans,” Jungkook says wondrously from the other line.

“W-what?” you frown, “you can see me?”

And immediately, you go to your trackpad to fish between the hundred-and-one employees also in this call. At the very end, you see a very simple name with no mic or camera: Jeon JK. He’s here.

“Worked in IT, doll. Know a thing or two,” he says, “now, tell me. What are you thinking about right now?”

“Y-you,” you mumble shyly.

“So,” Mr. Kim finally ends that part of the meeting, thank goodness, “what’s everyone’s plans this weekend? I’m going apple picking with a couple of my friends from college. Hoseok is a bright bean who loves to take long walks—”

What the hell. You squirm uncomfortably in your seat, hyperaware that Jungkook’s watching your every move. You make glossy, stubborn eyes at the camera, trying not to move when he jacks up the vibrator to a higher setting.

Jae’s of course the next employee to unmute his microphone, “Well, me and the bae are going house hunting…”

“Fuck!” you cry, moving the computer to the left so you can pretend you’re picking up something. But in fact you're leaning your head against your mattress, frustrated. “I don’t fucking care about your weekend plans, Jae! Shut the fuck up! You wanna know my weekend plans?” Jungkook’s laughing at you from the other line, but it only spurs you on, “my plans are fucking my super hot neighbor! He’s a hundred times more interesting than you and he’s going to make me come a hundred times this weekend—oh fuck!”

Your fingers latch onto your panties, drawing random squiggles and letters between the fabric. You’re damp, soaked to the core. You need some sort of friction, a reprieve from this hellish week.

“You flatter me, doll,” Jungkook is definitely grinning through the phone, you can practically hear his shit-eating grin, “I think you deserve a reward. As soon as you put the camera back on your pretty face.”

Quickly, you sit up to put the camera on you again. Once again, the employees are in a daze, listening to whatever the next person gabs about their weekend. Even though you can’t really see it, you’re sure Jungkook has a 1080p camera upstairs that shows off your blotchy face. You moan a little bit, lips closed as the egg buzzes against your pussy lips.

“You’re so cute, doll,” Jungkook praises, “you look so professional, holding it in. What could I do to make you unravel? Hm, what if you imagined the taste of my cock on your lips? Fuck, I’d love to slap your cute little face with my cock, baby doll–”

“y/n?” Mr. Kim calls your name, and you freeze, “what about you? Any plans this weekend?”

Jungkook doesn’t sound angry that your boss has inadvertently cut him off. “Answer him, doll. Be a good little employee.”

Like a zombie, you move towards the unmute button. “I–I uh,” you shake your head, trying to formulate a coherent response, “I’m going on a date this weekend.”

Jungkook jacks up the vibrator to high, and your legs are shaking.

“Awh, a date!” Mr. Park unmutes himself, practically shoving the camera in his face, “how much do you like the lucky lad or lady?”

“I like him uh—ah—” you pretend to think, covering a hand over your mouth to hide the fact that you feel your orgasm fast approaching, “I like him a lot!” you finally blurt, “I’m, uh, really excited to see him.”

“Best of luck to you,” Mr. Kim says brightly, “so Jimin, any news on those investors you had dinner with this weekend? I heard a lot of positive things…”

You immediately mute your mic, and pretend to lag as you fumble around with the camera. Shoving the laptop to the side once more you groan into your sheets, “Fuck—fuck yes—” you moan, shaking your head as you dip your fingers into your panties. The vibrator still continues at its bruising pace, spurring you to a high you haven’t peaked to in months.

“Good job,” Jungkook says simply, “could barely notice that you have a little helper fiddling around your dripping pussy.”

“J-Jeon,” you cry, “I’m, ’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook eggs you on, “you’re gonna cum around that cute little vibrator? Gonna soak it in your juices?”

“W-wish it was your cock I was soaking,” you whisper truthfully, letting your orgasm take you at the thought. Your folds flutter around the vibrator, bringing you to a level of sensitivity you’ve only dreamt of, “Ah, yes, Jeon. It feels s-so good!”

“Yes baby,” Jungkook groans through the line, “feels good, huh?”

Mr. Kim interrupts for the last time, “And with that, I think our meeting is adjourned. Have a wonderful weekend! Stay safe and—”

You slam the laptop shut, grabbing your phone and keys. “I’m going up,” you mutter impatiently, already jabbing your feet in a pair of slippers and locking the door to your apartment behind you.

“I’m waiting,” he replies, eagerness trimming his voice.

“Password?” you ask quickly, jabbing the elevator door shut once you step inside. Thank goodness you’re alone, you think as you pull your dress shirt further down your ass.

“Did you forget already?” he teases, “I told you, it’s 1234.”

Thankfully, the doors zip you up straight to the penthouse. The connection is always a little spotty in elevators, and you sigh longingly when you feel the buzz jolt and leave it’s momentum, quickly losing its rhythm between your dripping folds. Once you get to the top and the elevator doors open the second door immediately swings open, revealing a soft but aroused-looking Jungkook. He looks fresh from the shower, absolutely radiant and delicious looking.

You don’t hesitate to run up to him, and Jungkook immediately cups his face in your hands, pressing his lips to yours.

You’re practically on your tippy-toes, and you squeak against his lips when he hooks his arms around your shoulders, immediately lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his trim waist, not wanting to stop kissing him. He’s like the sweetest ambrosia, a taste you can’t get enough of.

The connection to your vibrator has resumed, and you can’t help but grind helplessly under Jungkook’s clothed abs as he carries the both of you to his bedroom.

“N-need you to fuck me,” you bury your head in the crook of his neck, pressing quick kisses to his jawline, “I want you s-so badly.”

“Hello to you too,” he husks, shutting the bedroom door with his foot.

Jungkook drops you unceremoniously, and your limbs splay out on the fresh bedsheets of his feather-soft mattress.

“You look gorgeous like this, doll.” he sighs longingly, a hand going under your buttondown to press against your soaked panties. His hand lingers on the way your pussy moves in tandem with the vibrator.

“J-Jeon please I can’t take it—”

“Stop calling me that,” he snaps, hands leaving your skin.

You whine at the loss of contact, “Jeon, no. Jungkook. Kook, my Kook. Please, I need you.”

That gets him going. His pretty chocolate brown eyes zero in on you, and he immediately shucks off his shirt and sweatpants, “How much do you need me?” he asks, pulling out his phone and pressing some buttons, “how much do you need your Kook?”

The vibrator stops. You cry out in frustration, unsure if it’s because it’s off or because Jungkook’s taking too damn long. “I need you so much, Kook,” you warble with a pout, moving to undo the top buttons of your dress shirt to reveal your cleavage, “honey, you can have me all you want later today. I want you to slap my face with your dick, edge me until I cry, anything. I’m all yours, I’m your little doll. But please for now, I need to feel you inside me.”

“Say no more,” his lips latch onto your neck, and you sigh at the skin-to-skin contact. His hand fiddles under your shirt, clutching a breast and slapping it so hard it bounces back and forth, “fuck, you’re so pretty.”

His hand moves to your plain cotton panties, immediately shucking them off, “doll, you really are dripping,” he’s impressed, surprised when he has to untack the fabric from your glossy legs. He hangs the panties on his wooden headboard, a little ornament for him to jack off to later.

His fingers brush over your folds, wasting no time to slip the vibrator out. He holds it between your faces, forcing you to stare at the pearly substance that coats the entirety of the egg. “Mm, tasty tasty,” he cooes, pink tongue darting out to lick a long strip across the oval.

You tug him closer, pressing his lips to yours. He tastes a mixture of his own saliva and your arousal, and you grind helplessly against him. You feel how big his cock is, rock-hard and trying very diligently not to bust. He must have a crazy amount of control, and it drives you nuts.

“Kook,” you frown, bumping your crotch with his.

“Impatient, good thing I am too,” he shucks off his boxers while you unbutton the rest of your shirt, “knees and hands, doll.”

You don’t care how or what way he’ll take you. Fuck, he could bend you into an Auntie Anne’s pretzel and you’d comply.

Arching your back so your ass is in the air, you wiggle around, hoping he’ll take the bait. That’s when you sigh, feeling the tip of his dick brush against your wetness.

“Soaking my cock already, baby,” he says, “you’re so good to me.”

And finally, finally, he slips in. You don’t even care that it stretches you a little too far and too long, it’s been too damn long since you’ve had decent dick and Jungkooks far more than decent.

He goes at a quick pace, finally showing how impatient he’s been all this time. Your moans and groans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure and pain as he stretches your walls to the brim. You hold a pillow to your chest, feeling woozy at the way his fat cock stretches you out.

“F-fuck yeah,” the pace is hard, you practically feel it in your belly, and you love it. “You feel so fucking tight, baby,” he’s all up in your ear, kissing the lobe briefly, “I love the way you suck my cock back in.”

“Kook,” you press your ass back, “harder, please. I’m your little doll, right? Y-you can fuck me however you want, as hard as you want! Please, ah—! Use me!”

You cry out when he slips from your folds, immediately flipping you on your back. He wastes no time to wet his dick, lifting one leg over his shoulder to have you deeper. This position is far more intimate, and your noses are practically touching as he thrusts into you.

You can’t believe you’re in bed with Jeon Jungkook. This must be a dream, a really great, really long wet dream. You crumble in his grip, and you lift a shaky hand to run through his thick black strands.

“Why’d you make me wait so long?” you cry, staring right into his glittering eyes, “why couldn’t you come for me after your call last night?”

“Why’d I make you wait?” he grits, crushing the flesh between your hip bones so he can have more leverage to pound into you, “why did you make me wait? Since March, I’ve wanted you. I told you I liked you, told you I fell for you.”

“T-thought it was a joke,” you warble pathetically, breasts bouncing at his relentless rhythm.

“You think th-this is a joke?” for further emphasis, he glides slower, making you feel just how large and thick he is against your folds, “I want you, doll. Y-yeah, fu-fuck. Want to feed you every day, feed you lasagna, feed you with my cum, make you happy.”

“I—I want that too, Kook,” you’re a pile of pink mush, and you feel your eyes prick from the overwhelming emotions that have washed over both of you. “Sh-shit, Kook. I think, I think I’m gon’ cum again.”

“Good, you first,” his hand plays figure 8s with your precious pearl, seeping with arousal and coating his cock in delicious lubrication.

It doesn’t take long for you to cum. You’re holding him as tight as you can, nails digging into his shoulders as you clench around his cock. Jungkook cums shortly after, and you keen at the sensitivity when his hot cum coats your walls. “Baby doll,” he exhales, thrusting lazily. The both of you feel your combined arousal drip between the two of you, onto your skin and onto his sheets, “y-you’re amazing.”

His softened cock slips out of you, and his hands immediately reach over to swirl around the heady cream over your engorged pussy. You moan when he brings his fingers to your lips, “Open, doll.”

It tastes salty yet sweet, and you suckle around his finger with a cute little pop. Jungkook grins brightly, feeling like he won the lottery.

“Are my walls that thin?” you pout, pressing closer to him when he pulls the blankets to your chest.

“Very,” Jungkook nods with a chuckle, tucking the two of you in, “now get some rest, doll. You presented a lot of offers to me earlier, and I intend to go through with them.”

You smile into his chest, melty and feeling utterly sated.

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #goldenclosetnet #bts smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook humor #bts fic #jungkook fic

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aenaxes · 3 years

Note

OMG ok for the 200 follower celebration (based on your smoking post) PLZZZ write sharing a spice blunt with cross or any batcher of your choosing I would simply die 😩💅🏻❤️

vapor trails

[crosshair & hunter x f!reader] you don't really run with the fett twins' crowd, but you find yourself at one of their parties anyway (in reference to this post lol)

warnings: college!au, recreational drug use, suggestive themes, but consent is sexy & mandatory & sober babes

w/c: 3.8k

a/n: anon, you ask for one batcher, but why not two? thank you for enabling me nonnie & @mallr4ts lol (im so sorry to all the previous requests for the event, this one has just been needling in my brain all day and i had to get it out hsdfs)

event details here! requests are open until july 4th!

You don’t know much about the Fett twins.

They’re something like campus legends even though they’re only a year your senior and at the tail end of their fourth years. But as much as you’ve heard their names slung around in weekend plans and excited chatter, you’ve never once met them, much less seen them yourself. Between idling class whispers and dining hall conversations, all you can piece together from the rumors is that: one, they’re from a big family (you’ve heard anywhere from two to twelve other brothers, yikes); and two, as much as they work hard (because the venture capital and pre-professorial tracks seem rigorous enough), they play even harder.

It helps that they apparently own one of the biggest apartments off campus, one in which you find yourself hopelessly and miserably lost. And overdressed.

Great.

It hadn’t occurred to you that your roommate, who is nowhere to be seen, had been dressing up for her girlfriend, and that most people who had half a mind would wear something comfortable that could withstand a few spilled drinks and ash. So seeing the rest of the room in rumpled tees and sweats has you and your little black dress seeking out the nearest wall as you fiddle with your questionably sweet cup of margarita mixer.

You feel like a first year, and it sucks.

But for once, with everyone too busy mingling amongst themselves over the heavy thrum of some mumble rap beat, you manage to slip by unnoticed.

Every now and then, you dart your eyes around the ever shifting landscape of faces in the dim room, looking for even the vaguest familiarity that might let you feign being tipsy and join a group for the night. But every time you try, there’s no luck.

Fuck, you haven’t even seen anyone here before.

But there might be a god watching out for you yet when the crowd shifts just enough that you catch sight of the couch, and on it, someone you suspect to be one of the twins as he greets a few girls with a disinterested nod.

Emboldened, but mostly nervous that in the crowd of bodies and red solo cups you’re still helplessly alone, you push off the wall and squeeze past huddled cliques of conversation to make for the dark couch.

By the platinum bleached hair and big-name consulting group quarter zip, Crosshair—at least you think it’s him—lounges over the couch. He isn’t the only body on the suede seats, but he keeps to himself, his head dipped low as he works one hand over a small metal canister in his other palm.

If you weren’t having luck with the other nameless faces around you, maybe the Fett twin would keep you company—at least until your roommate came back to find you (if she did). And worst case, you’d just slink back to your dorm and mope until your roommate apologized to you with your favorite overpriced smoothie bowl the day after.

Mustering every ounce of courage you have, you plant your feet by the couch and finally speak.

"Is your name actually Crosshair?" you ask.

The man on the couch pauses, his motions stilling over the small metal cylinder in his palms, and he lifts his chin just enough to flick his eyes up towards the sound of your voice.

You always thought the girls in your droning 9AM gen-ed were wildly exaggerating his hype for their own devices, squealing over his (apparently) brooding charm and sharp looks to nip at his stash for free. But for all the vague haze surrounding your perception of the twins, you never thought that they were telling the truth.

If you had been in broad daylight under the incandescent glow of your creaky lecture hall lights, you might have called him cocky, almost haughty, how he meets you with an unreadable look for having interrupted him. But in the purple LEDs and heavy haze of vape juice and shitty tequila, he’s captivating, all dark eyes and perfectly lit skin, marked only by the needle-thin design tattooed over the right side of his face and a worn wooden toothpick bitten between his teeth.

You swallow down the dry lump in your throat when you catch him flick his eyes from your face, down the short length of your dress, and back up again.

"Smoke with me; maybe you'll find out," he drawls, toothpick bobbing as he speaks. He twists the cylinder once and offers you a wry smirk. And when you stay, speechless but there all the same, Crosshair scoots to the side and pats the narrow space between him and the couch arm, inviting you close.

"I've never smoked before," you admit a bit shyly as you drop down beside him. Your dress hikes up your thigh, and you shiver when your skin presses up against the soft denim of his jeans.

"Not even cigs?"

You shake your head. And you tell yourself that when he leans close and brushes his shoulder up against your arm, that he’s only doing it because someone’s boosted the bass, and you can’t hear him over the reverb.

"Well, good thing I'm here, yeah?"

He gives the metal canister a final twist and sets it down on the coffee table before you. Swapping the canister for a small brown sleeve, you watch in a daze as he pulls a semi-transparent leaflet from the folder and tears a strip of cardstock straight from its flap. He has pianist fingers, you think wistfully, neatly kept nails and slender grace, and you wonder if he’ll entertain you if you ask to compare your hand to his.

“What’s your name?”

You scrabble back to the present at the sound of his voice. “Uh, y/n,” you offer.

“Well, y/n,” he says with a soft laugh, having caught on to your daydreaming. “Step one, you fold your filter.”

You nod along absently as Crosshair artfully crimps the thick paper into a neat roll. As if there isn’t thirty-some odd people crammed into his apartment, he quietly takes you step by step, offering you the filter, the paper, then the contents of the canister (a grinder, he explains) like it’s a game of show and tell. But with every piece he places into your hands, you gravitate closer, closer, until you’re flush against his arm and practically hanging over his side to watch as he gently taps a line of bud over the paper.

“Here, let me give you a better look,” Crosshair says.

You expect him to bring the neat line of bud to you, but when nothing comes, you look up and find him waiting for you, one arm open in invitation as the other pats once on the dark denim of his thigh.

“Uh—”

“Sit,” he says as if you haven’t just met him fifteen minutes ago. “Front row seats if you want ‘em.”

On one hand, you barely know Crosshair outside of the rumors you hear on campus. On the other hand, he’s a genuinely pleasant person, careful to accommodate for your boundaries and offering a snide playfulness that’s banished your nerves from earlier in the night.

He’s also really fucking hot.

“Okay,” you murmur, and you let him wrap his arm around your waist and tug you onto his lap. And he’s right. Perched over his thighs, you see with perfect clarity (and without the strain in your neck) as he gently folds the paper over the mound of bud and carefully twists. It’s the prettiest joint you’ve ever seen—though it might be because it’s the only one you’ve seen.

"Final touch," Crosshair's voice rumbles over your back, shooting straight into your core as he lifts the paper's vellum edge to your lips. “Lick it for me.”

Since you sat down with him, you’ve only been the passenger, nodding along as Crosshair’s long, nimble fingers creased over filter paper and patiently pointed out things like the stray pistils in his baggie and the keef gathered at the bottom of his grinder for if you really want to get fucked up. And even though you aren’t doing much (because licking paper doesn’t really seem too crazy), it’s a step forward from the comfortable rhythm that had settled between you, and you twist around in his lap to shoot him an uncertain glance.

“Just,” Crosshair flicks his tongue over his lower lip, flashing a brief glimpse of a ball piercing towards your wide eyes. And if you weren’t so flustered, you might have recognized the coy playfulness in his gaze. “Give it a lick, right over the edge.”

“I—uh, what if I—” you stammer.

“You’re not gonna mess this up, darling,” Crosshair chuckles. If his hand squeezing brief over your waist wasn’t enough to bring heat searing over the tops of your ears, his next words, crooned low and breathy into your ear, certainly do. “You’re a smart girl. You can do it.”

"My brother giving you trouble?"

Another voice cuts through the din of the party, sparing you your stammering nerves as you whip your head up in its general direction. You’re greeted with the sight of his brother, peering down on you as he takes a sip from his cup.

“You’re such a killjoy,” Crosshair mutters, drawing his arm tighter around your waist as he jabs the half-rolled joint to where Hunter sprawls down onto the couch beside him. “No, I’m not being a creep. I’m teaching our pretty underclassman here how to roll.”

Oh.

Heat rushes over your cheeks, and you can’t decide whether you want to shrink into yourself or bask in it and beg for more.

He called you pretty.

“With her in your lap,” Hunter snorts into his cup.

“It was your idea to invite your entire fucking rugby team. Where else would we do it?”

“I’m so sorry he’s like this,” Hunter laughs, tilting his head and looking up at you through his (unfairly) long lashes. Where you thought Crosshair’s tattoo was bold, Hunter’s practically blows him out of the water, a well-worn swath of ink on the left half of his face, curving into neatly stylized teeth right at the edge of his lips. “I’m Hunter.”

Huh, maybe you do have a thing for tattoos.

“Y/n,” you squeak. “It’s, um—it’s nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart,” he says as he offers you an easy smile. “Has my baby brother been treating you right?”

“God, two fucking minutes,” Crosshair snaps. You hear the embarrassment seeping from the vitriol, and it strikes you like a shot to the head that he’s trying to play cool in front of you. “I come out two minutes after you and—”

“We’re fraternal, and I got all the oxygen in the womb. Explains why he has awful people skills,” Hunter fake-whispers loud enough for Crosshair to hear, and you giggle as the other man groans from behind you.

“No, he’s been really nice,” you say softly once you realize that you’ve been laughing a little too loud. “He’s teaching me about weed.” It sounds juvenile when you say it, awkward and clumsy on your tongue. It’s a dead giveaway that has Hunter’s smile mellowing into something soft.

“Your first time?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, Cross here’s high as shit at least four hours every day. Says it helps him do the math. I hate to say it, but you’re in good hands.”

“You try running a nonlinear regression sober,” Crosshair snorts. “Anyways, we were just finishing up this joint before you decided to kill the vibe.”

Crosshair lifts the half-rolled joint back up to your chin, and this time, he leans forward and presses his chest close against your back as the playful snark leaves his tone, in its wake, something patient and calm as his voice rumbles by your ear.

“You gonna help me finish the job, sweet girl?”

You surprise yourself when the initial trepidation vanishes as you tip your chin down and stick out your tongue. Maybe you’re showboating now that you have an audience, feeling Hunter’s dark eyes on your lips when you touch the tip of your tongue out over the edge.

Whether it’s your lip gloss or the fine crumbs of bud stuck to the roll paper that fills your mouth with something earthy and sweet, you can’t say. All you know is they’re both following you with that intense intent, the bass and blend of voices faded out around you; just you in Crosshair’s lap and Hunter pretending to care about the drink in his hand as you lift your tongue off the far corner of the paper and close your lips.

“Good job,” Hunter muses, and you’re pretty certain he’s not talking about the joint when you feel his gaze boring into you alone.

The smell of smoke pulls you out of Hunter’s gravity, and you look back in front of you to see Crosshair snap a scuffed metal lighter shut and toss it onto the coffee table. He brings the joint back down in front of you, blowing a neat stream of whitish gray smoke past your ear.

“You know how to pull?” Crosshair asks, and his chin brushes over your bare shoulder as he speaks. He’s so close. You can smell the burn, acrid and sour, but it doesn’t matter that it doesn’t smell like some bubblegum vape when you feel his breaths curling over your skin. You just want more.

Mutely, you shake your head.

“Mm, you know how to shotgun?” Hunter offers, and you hear Crosshair huff laugher from behind you. “Might be easier for your first try.”

You shake your head again.

“It’s,” Hunter pauses, and his brows knit close as he thinks for a moment. “It’s kind of like a kiss. But not really. I take a hit and you catch my smoke. That sound okay?”

You don’t think it matters that someone’s hit shuffle on the playlist, filling the room with a hard electronic beat that might have otherwise drowned out all sound. All you hear is your heart pounding in your ears as you nod and watch Hunter lift the filter to his lips and inhale deep, then pass the joint back to Crosshair.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, white trails of smoke curling over his upper lip as he lifts one hand to cup over the base of your neck.

“Open,” Crosshair whispers.

Wordlessly, you obey. Your lips part just as Hunter pulls close, so close you feel the heat of his skin spreading warm over your cheeks, and blows a soft stream of bitter smoke into your mouth. It can’t be more than a few seconds, but all the while, you can’t seem to tear your eyes from his.

“Breathe in, deep,” you hear Crosshair instruct as he begins to rub one thumb over the curve of your hip.

The smoke is thick, sluicing down your throat and filling your lungs like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s not bad, just new, and pressed between the twins over the couch, you think it just might have been worth being ditched by your roommate earlier in the night. But your lungs ache, and you slowly exhale, watching as your vision fogs with a loose cloud of smoke until your chest feels clear again.

“And you didn’t even cough,” Hunter smiles. His calloused fingertips follow the slope of your neck, lingering one moment more before he pulls away. And you aren’t sure if the low buzzing in your fingertips is the weed or their combined warmth as Hunter rubs over your knee and Crosshair leans his head against your neck. “Good girl.”

“Wanna do it again,” you whisper as the buzz begins to crawl up your neck, fizzling around your temples as you lean your cheek over where Crosshair nuzzles into your shoulder.

“With him or me?” Crosshair murmurs, his lips brushing over your skin.

“You,” you say dreamily, and Hunter laughs, a sound that suddenly seems so far away as you tip your head and press close against Crosshair’s silver hair.

Crosshair leans into your touch, pressing his cheek up against your neck one last time before he’s lifting his head and bringing the joint to his lips. You hear the hiss of his inhale, smoke curling up through the narrow body of the joint as the charred end glows warm beside you.

And instead of Hunter’s approach, level with you, Crosshair looms above you, meeting your wide eyes with something of a fond smile. Dragging his hand up your chest, he follows the line of your neck and holds snug over your chin. He squeezes softly, and your jaw falls slack, lips parted in a soft ‘o’ as he dips low. He's closer than Hunter as you feel his mouth just brush over yours and breathe smoke over your tongue.

This time, it’s easier.

You swallow down the smoke and hold, just a beat longer than before. But both Crosshair and Hunter notice as your lips stay parted, and they share a soft laugh that has you exhaling smoke and pride all at once when you finally relax your diaphragm and breathe out.

“Fast learner,” Crosshair muses, nosing up under your jaw as you sink back against his chest.

You mumble incoherently, chasing his touch as the high creeps heavy and warm from your chest to your collar and settles at the back of your throat. It anchors you, molding you up against Crosshair who feels nothing short of perfect as he circles his arms loose over your waist.

You turn your head to thank Hunter when you distantly register him pressing a cool cup into your hand (water, you think you hear him say), but the words slip back down into your throat, your eyelids suddenly unbearably heavy and coarse over your blurry vision.

“You wanna lay down?” Hunter offers, and his voice comes to you like you’re underwater, warped and bubbling past the din of the party around you.

You're pretty sure you nod.

For a few moments, you catch traces of an unintelligible exchange between the twins, only aware of the rumble of Crosshair’s voice at your back, and then you’re being lifted up off the couch, the music and raucous laughter fading behind you.

A door opens, squeaking half-shut, and you wince as a light clicks on beside you. Whoever was carrying you sets you down on something soft and cool, and you sway as the light dims and you settle into your seat.

You’re on a bed, you think.

Crosshair’s, judging by the shock of light hair that you can make out through your lashes. He helps you into a worn tee that reaches past the short hem of your dress, and you wiggle into it with a soft whine, holding it tight.

But where you expect a familiar weight to dip down next to you and pull you close, your eyes fly open when you see his figure turn away from you and towards the neon lights of the party outside.

“You aren’t staying?” It's the most coherent you've been through your first high.

“Not tonight,” Crosshair says softly. He turns back towards you and reaches up to fix the strap of your dress as you sit on his bed. “Baby’s first tokes got you all dopey. Right now, what you need is this,” and he presses a plastic bottle of vitamin water he’s seemingly produced out of nowhere into your palm. “This,” he adds, pressing your phone into your other hand. “And a good night’s sleep.”

“And what if I say I need you, too?” you pout.

Some part of you—the conscious part locked away in the back of your skull—bangs up against the hazy high at the crown of your head because when you’re good and sober and when Crosshair inevitably turns you down, you won’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror for the next semester.

But he breaks into a smile that crinkles at the corners of his eyes before he leans down to press his lips to your forehead. It’s just a split-second of warm, chapstick-soft lips on your skin, but it floods you with an indescribable good from the top of your head all the way down to your toes.

And as high as you are right now, you have a hell of a hunch that the flutter in your chest is going to stay, even when the room stops wobbling around you.

“When you’re all sobered up in the morning, we’ll make you breakfast, and we’ll figure it out from there,” Crosshair says after he’s pulled back, reaching up to smooth his palm over your hair. “Sound like a plan?”

You nod, probably with a little too much enthusiasm, but you’re rewarded with another low chuckle that’s practically music to your ears. His hand gentle and firm over your shoulder, Crosshair guides you down onto the bed and pulls the covers up to your chin.

“Now text your roomie so she doesn’t call the cops on us, get some sleep, and drink all of that, okay?”

“Okay,” you respond.

“Good girl.”

And when the lights click out, you curl into Crosshair’s pillow, breathing in cold, fresh notes of his cologne, and then you’re asleep.

You climb out of bed the next morning, your minidress rumpled under a long shirt. It's not like a hangover, no, you just find yourself a bit lightheaded and throat parched, and the disorientation makes your head spin as you’re greeted with the smell of fresh coffee and something savory—

Your roommate doesn’t wake up earlier than you, and she can’t cook for shit. And why were your sheets grey? Whose shirt were you—

Oh.

Fuck.

You practically burst out of Crosshair’s bedroom, and you’re not sure what you expected, but somehow you hadn’t expected to see Hunter sipping mildly on a mug of coffee while Crosshair pushes something around in a pan over their kitchen range.

“Mornin,’” Hunter offers you a small wave, and reaches for a third mug on the countertop. “Wasn’t sure how you liked your coffee so we just made it black.”

“What happened last night?” you gasp. If you weren’t so panicked, you’re certain the sight of them sporting nothing but grey sweats would have been your only concern, but you’ve just woken up with foggy memories and the slimy dread of anxiety that follows a blackout night.

“Easy, easy,” Crosshair assures you as he steps away from the stovetop. “Nothing happened after we smoked. You took, like, two hits, and you were so hazy you couldn’t remember your dorm number, so we put you to bed, and I slept out in the living room. Fetts are wild but we’re not scumbags, promise.”

And judging from the throw blanket sliding off the edge of the couch cushions, you’re fairly certain you can believe him. Relief floods your chest.

“Oh thank God,” you sigh, and your shoulders sag as the weight of panic sloughs off your back.

They both laugh softly, the sudden tension lifting from the bright morning light, and you can’t help but join in. And when that rosy relief gives way to silence again, it’s Crosshair who speaks next.

“So, you staying for breakfast?”

“Can I borrow some actual clothes first?”

“Done deal.”

#fun fact: my signature party trick is flirting with a guy and then stealing his blunt ✌️😗#thinking about how schlorbe n i agreed crosshair listens to souncloud mumble rap :/#its ok i kiss him anyways #hc that crosshair’s an econ/finance bro and hunter’s a history major hehe #sequel series: crosshair goes venture capital (gross)#tech's probably at like the space equivalent of mit or something #and i will Die on the hill that wrecker's super smart with kinesiology #crosshair x reader #hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch x reader #anon #yaej.writes

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vintagedolan · 4 years

Text

forgetful (egd)

it’s not like Ethan to forget things, so there’s no way he forgot your birthday... right?

word count: 4.2k

requested by: anon (thank you beeb!)

warnings/tags: sad!ethan, forgetting of a birthday, panic attack, mentions of sean, angst (but it’s resolved cause im a weak fluffy bitch oops)

feel free to send in requests! i’ll write most things! hope you enjoy :)

This was one elaborate plan, you’d give him that. And he was hiding everything so well that you were ridiculously impressed. You went along with it, not wanting him to think that you were suspicious of anything.

“You all packed?” You asked, pouting a bit as he zipped up his bag and stood it up on its wheels.

“Yep. It’s just for a few days, I’ll be back on Thursday. Need some family time with Mom,” he reassured you.

Thursday. Your birthday.

You never really made a big deal out of birthdays but after you had gotten Ethan two new custom longboards for his, he had promised you an epic celebration for your big day. And he hadn’t let you in on the secret at all. It took all your self control not to pry and ask questions as you followed him out to the car where Grayson was waiting. Was he even going to Jersey? Or was this all some big ploy? You wouldn’t put it past him. Either way, you knew you weren’t going to see him for a few days, which pulled at your heart strings a bit.

“Okay, well fly safe, and let me know when you all get there,” you wrapped your arms around his torso, squeezing tight. He nuzzled into your hair for a moment, squeezing you even tighter than he usually did. Between the way he was talking and that, you could tell something was definitely going on.

“I will. I love you,” he said, leaning down to kiss you goodbye. It was quicker than usual. It only convinced you more.

“Love you too,” you smiled at him, letting go and moving to hug Grayson goodbye. You waved until they were out of sight before going inside, with a million thoughts of what he could be up to running through your head.

He text you a quick made it safe about 6 hours later, right on time for a landing in New Jersey. You sent back some hearts and a response.

Have fun hanging with your mom, I know you’ve missed her. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you! It was a subtle way of trying to assure him that he didn’t need to be talking to you when he should be visiting with his family.

He sent back a I will baby, I love you too and you left it at that.

The next day went by fairly slow for a Monday. You piddled around the house, getting some work done and generally just relaxing. Ethan FaceTimed you around noon, and was acting even weirder than before. Something was definitely up, and you couldn’t help but get a little bit excited. He must be planning something big if he was this nervous about it.

Tuesday was even weirder. He sent you a good morning text, but you didn’t hear from him again until that evening, and when he called you could tell that he was exhausted and wasn’t much in the mood for talking. It puzzled you some, but worried you more than anything.

“Are you okay baby? You seem a bit off,” you asked.

“Yeah, I’m just tired. I need to go to bed. I love you.”

“I love you too, get some rest.”

By Wednesday, you were actually starting to get concerned. You considered texting Grayson - if Ethan was actually upset about something, his brother would probably tell you. But you felt bad at the idea of going behind Ethan’s back so you waited.

It was 9pm your time, which was midnight back in Jersey, when he finally facetimed you. He was in a bit higher spirits, which made you smile. His day was much more interesting than yours had been, so you listened to him talk about anything and everything, just content to hear his voice. When he finally got through all the events, he asked all about yours. There wasn’t much to tell, but you walked him through.

“I’m sure tomorrow will be more eventful,” you teased, rolling your eyes a bit.

“Yeah, about that. Cam is coming to surprise mom tomorrow, and Gray and I are gonna stay an extra day so we can see her. It’s been ages since we’ve all been home,” he explained. You balked. Was he kidding? You watched him closely, trying to see if he was joking or not. You noticed that he was fidgeting a little bit, one of his nervous habits. Something else was up.

It clicked for you then - he was probably setting up the surprise, wanting you to think that he wasn’t even going to be in the state. Sneaky.

“Okay, that’s fine,” you responded, secretly looking around the screen to see if you could spot a camera. He would be filming this for sure if there was a video, and you didn’t want to ruin it.

“I was wondering if you could do me a favor tomorrow though. Louis Vuitton is getting a shipment of new stuff in for me and Gray, and we’re supposed to pick specific stuff by Saturday, do you think you could go get it and bring it home so we have more time to decide once we get back?”

There it was.

The weird get-you-to-a-certain-place excuse that was customary with any Ethan surprise. You breathed out a sigh - for a second there you really thought that he had forgotten. This was one of his less creative ideas, but you rolled with it anyways.

“Yeah, I can get it. What time am I supposed to go?”

“Whenever is fine! Thank you baby,” he offered you a soft smile.

Weird. Usually he would be specific on a time. Oh well. He definitely just needed you out of the house so he could set up whatever it was.

“You’re welcome. Isn’t it like 1am there now? You should be asleep,” you reminded him.

“Yeah, we’ve gotta get Cam pretty early in the morning so you’re probably right. Well, I love you, I’ll check on you tomorrow. Goodnight!”

“I love you too, goodnight baby.”

It was hard to sleep that night. Your mind was racing with a million different things, trying to think of what he would be planning. He was probably on a plane already. You woke up throughout the night, convinced you were hearing him sneaking in. But eventually you fell asleep with no dreams.

And when you woke up the next morning around 9am the house was empty and quiet. You didn’t feel any older, and to be honest it didn’t feel much different from your past few birthdays - you usually spent them alone. You walked around the house cautiously, peeking around corners to see if someone was there to jump out and surprise you. No one showed, so you simply went to the kitchen and made yourself a quick breakfast.

Once that was done, you went back to Ethan’s bathroom and started getting ready. It had been awhile since you’d done a full face of makeup, and you put on one of your favorite outfits as well just to make you feel nice.

As you were putting your shoes on, you felt your phone buzz.

Morning baby! what’re you up to? was the text from Ethan that came across your screen.

morning! I’m headed to louis to get your alls clothes

You felt the butterflies starting to mount as you headed out to the car. Who knew what was gonna be there when you got back. Deciding to make the most of it, you stopped by your favorite coffee shop and got a drink on your way to the store. The workers were nice as always, even helping you to get all the garment bags into your car before waving as you drove off.

The excitement mounted with each minute that passed on the way home. You were practically bouncing by the time you got to the driveway, opening the gate and pulling in. Nothing looked different - of course, he would have hidden the cars somewhere.

You gathered all the garment bags, holding them high above you so they didn’t drag the ground, hoping you wouldn’t drop them if someone jumped out.

Opening the door slowly, you braced yourself.

And nothing.

Nothing happened.

You kept walking, placing the bags down over the couch.

“Hello?” You said, listening to the echo. There was no response. And then it hit you like a ton of bricks.

No one was here.

No one was coming.

You’d been forgotten.

The tears came quickly, hot and angry down your cheeks. It took a moment for you to realize that you were actually embarrassed. You’d made up a whole scenario in your head that your boyfriend was planning some major surprise for you, when in reality he was actually across the country with no idea what day it even was. It stung much more than you thought it would.

And so, you sat on the floor and cried, leaving tear stains on your outfit and throwing a full on pity party. You felt stupid, and childish, and unloved all at the same time. A tiny sliver of hope remained, but when you got a snapchat from Grayson of them in the car with Cam, it faded too.

After about an hour you managed to get yourself up off the floor, going through the motions. You hung the boys clothes up in their closets, cleaned up your makeup; it was still your birthday. You were going to try to have a good day if you could. So you went back out to the grocery and bought yourself a cake. A whole ass cake in your favorite flavor, and you had the bakers write “happy birthday to me” on top of it in white icing.

As you drove back to the house, your sadness started to turn into anger. You didn’t deserve this shit. You deserved to be celebrated on the one fucking day of the year that was about you. And you were happy that Ethan was getting to see his sister - you really were. If he had told you about it and been apologetic that he couldn’t be there for your birthday, you would have understood. But it was so very obvious that he’d completely forgotten, and that was what bothered you the most out of anything.

When your phone rang with a facetime from him, you knew better than to answer it. You would say something that you really, really regretted. You let it ring through as you pulled in the driveway, carrying your cake inside and sitting it on the counter. Your phone rang again, and you ignored it.

He seemed to give up, and sent you a text instead.

Hey baby, we ended up needing to get a flight tonight so I should be home around 11 or so your time. didn’t want you to get scared if you heard me. can’t wait to see you, I missed you!

You closed your phone. You didn’t trust yourself to not be an asshole. You knew that as soon as Ethan realized what was going on he was going to feel absolutely terrible. So you didn’t want to be a complete asshole. But... that didn’t mean you couldn’t be a little bit petty.

So you decided to stay up until he got home. And by stay up, that meant waiting in the kitchen for him with your cake on the counter so he could realize exactly what had happened. Petty. But justified.

The wait was long, but worth it when you finally heard them coming down the driveway. You started eating the cake, making sure to just get the corners because you wanted the words to stay visible.

The door clicked open and shut, and you heard the rustling of the boys coming in.

“Tell Y/N I said hey if she’s up, I’m going the fuck to sleep,” you heard Grayson explain, not even coming into the kitchen.

Good. You didn’t want him in the middle of all this anyways.

Ethan almost passed you on his way to his room, but you caught his eye. His entire face lit up when he saw you, and you felt your resolve to be petty crack a little. He was so damn cute, it was hard to stay mad at him.

“Baby you didn’t need to stay up! I figured you’d gone to sleep early since you didn’t answer earlier,” he grinned, coming over to you.

“I’m awake.” Your tone stopped him in his tracks - he was on his way to kiss you, no doubt. You were even surprised at how mad you sounded. It wasn’t like you to pick a fight.

“I can see that. Are you okay?” He was more cautious now, looking around to see if he could figure out what was happening. You gave him a minute before you took another bite of cake to give him a clue.

He looked down at the icing, and you watched him mouth the words as he read it.

“Did you buy a clearance cake or something? What’s going on? I’m confused.”

“I can wait until you figure it out.”

You watched the gears turn in his head. When he looked up from the pastry, his eyes were wide.

“What’s today’s date?” He asked, his voice meek.

“I’ll give you one guess,” you murmured, taking another bite.

“Oh no. Oh no no no no,” he said, hands coming up to his hair. He held his head for a moment, and you noticed that his chest was rising and falling too fast. He stumbled a bit, reaching back to catch himself on the counter. His hand slipped slightly - was he sweating?

You pieced it together immediately.

Panic attack.

Any anger, any pettiness you had flew out the window. You dropped your fork, running over to him and grabbing his hand.

“C’mon, come with me Ethan it’s okay,” you said, guiding him as quickly as you could to the room you shared. They always resolved quicker if he was in his most comforting place, so when you got him in the room you immediately guided him to sit on the bed.

You knelt in front of him, holding his hands in yours.

“Breathe in while I squeeze, out when I let go, okay? Just like we always do, and it’ll stop. I’m right here,” you reassured him, squeezing his hands. To your relief he was able to take a deep breath in with you, but he exhaled immediately, panic still overriding.

“You’re. You’re gonna - leave.” He was gasping through the words.

“Ethan I’m right here. I’m right here, I’m not leaving, no matter what. Just breathe baby, just breathe.”

It took almost 15 minutes to get him fully calmed down, and you only knew it was over when he opened up his arms for you. You climbed onto his lap, no hesitation, wrapping your arms around him.

It didn’t matter how angry you were - nothing was worse than seeing the man you loved in pain. You couldn’t stand it.

“I am actually the biggest piece of shit to walk the face of the earth,” he mumbled into your shoulder a few moments later. You shook your head, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“No you aren’t, I’m -”

“If you apologize, I swear to god,” he cut you off and you fell silent as he sat up and looked at you. “Please, please do not try to make me feel better right now.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” You asked honestly. You felt guilty that your pettiness had caused him to panic so quickly.

“Yell at me, scream at me, be fucking pissed off that I literally forgot the most important day of the fucking year,” he said, exasperated.

“I’m not gonna do that.” You couldn’t do that was the correct answer. “Besides, I already had my fun. With the cake.”

Ethan looked like he was going to explode.

“So I forget that today is your birthday. Not only do I not have a whole party and surprise for you, but I don’t even say happy birthday. And you spend the entire day alone, while I’m just fucking around on the other side of the country.”

“You were with your family, that’s not fucking around.”

“While I’m just fucking around on the other side of the United States-” he repeated. “And your revenge on me was to buy yourself a cake...”

“And be petty about it,” you shrugged. He looked at you in disbelief. And honestly, you were surprised at yourself too. You’d been so hurt and mad earlier, but all that anger had left you somehow. Something about being with Ethan put you at peace, even in the most unsettling of situations.

“That wasn’t even being petty! What do you even mean!? How are you not screaming at me right now!?” He practically yelled.

“I mean yeah, I was sad, but I pretty much hurt my own feelings.”

His face was actually red with frustration.

“Please explain what ridiculous way you’ve convinced yourself of that.”

You hesitated.

“It’s gonna make you sad.”

He didn’t say anything, and you sighed, knowing he was gonna make you tell him. You looked down, toying with the hem of his shirt as you explained.

“Well, I thought it was kinda weird that you were going home so close to my birthday, so I kinda convinced myself that maybe you were surprising me or something. Like pretending to be gone, but actually you were gonna be here. And you seemed off while you were home, so I thought maybe you were just planning stuff, or maybe you were nervous about pulling it off. And I thought you asked me to go to Louis to get the clothes so you had time to set stuff up. But then when I got back I realized you were still in Jersey. So really it was only bad because I thought something was happening.”

“I am a piece of shit,” he repeated after a moment.

“What was going on in Jersey that had you acting so weird?” You poised, trying to change the subject. He was going to continue beating himself up over forgetting, and there wasn’t much you could do to stop him, but you were genuinely curious as to what had been going on. You knew him well enough that you were sure that it was something - you’d just assumed wrong when guessing it was about you.

His arms tightened around you slightly, pulling you to his chest while his cheek rested on your shoulder. Sometimes, he found it easier to talk about things when he wasn’t looking right at you.

“It was Mom and Dad’s anniversary last week. It’s always really hard for her, and Grayson and I wanted to go see her to make sure she was alright, but we couldn’t get out there on the actual day. But we went to his grave on Tuesday, and I realized I hadn’t been back out there since the funeral. It stirred up a lot of emotions for everybody, but it was really nice being home with my family, even just for a little while. We facetimed with Cam while we were there, and she got upset too and wanted to see everybody so we got her a flight to come up for the day.”

You took a minute to process everything, and then you leaned back so that you could look at Ethan.

“Baby why didn’t you tell me? If I’d known all that I would have told you to stay longer.”

“I just... I didn’t want it to be a big deal. It shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Yes it should. Your family is the most important thing to you, it always has been and it always will be. That comes before anything,” you reassured him. “If your mom was having a hard time, you did the right thing by going to see her when you could.”

“My dad always handled everything so well. Always had a million things going on at once and never dropped anything. And I can’t even remember two fucking things.” His voice was getting rougher, and you could tell his throat was tight. You put a hand behind his neck, running your fingers through the hairs at the nape of it.

“I just wish I could be more like him. I always fuck everything up.”

“You don’t Ethan. You’re more like your dad than you’ll ever know, he raised you to be an amazing man. I see parts of him in you everyday.”

And for some reason those words broke him down, and he began to sob. You hadn’t seen him cry like that in a while, but when you had, no words could comfort him. So you just held him tightly and let him cry his way through it, running your fingers along his back gently and occasionally pressing a kiss to his temple.

When he had finally cried himself out he just melted into your shoulder and let you hold him for a while. It was a few more minutes before he spoke.

“This must be a wonderful birthday for you. Your asshole boyfriend forgets about it, then comes home and spends the last hour of it in a panic attack and then bawling like a baby over his dead dad. I sure do know how to bring the party huh.”

You leaned back to meet his eyes, and he had been so monotone through the whole thing that you couldn’t help but laugh. Your giggle caused him to start to crack, and before you knew it you were both cackling so hard you were crying.

“We’re quite the duo,” you teased, taking his face in your hands and wiping his tears away.

“I really am so sorry baby. I feel terrible.”

“It’s alright Ethan. You had a reason, and to be honest it was kinda fun being petty for a minute. I don’t get to do it often,” you said. He was already forgiven. To your surprise, instead of arguing, he took your wrist in his hand, turning it to look at the time on your watch.

11:58

“It’s still your birthday. Can I give you your present?”

“You got me a present?” You perked up.

“Of course I did, I’m not that shitty.”

“Gimme,” you smiled, holding out your hands. He smiled at that, putting his hands on your hips and lifting you off his lap. You watched him as he went to his closet, reaching behind one of his shoe boxes to pull out a small blue wrapped box, followed by an envelope. You made a grabby hand at it, making him chuckle as he handed them over.

“Which one should I open first?”

“You’re the birthday girl, you decide,” he grinned.

You opted for the envelope, pulling it open and looking inside. There were a few pieces of paper, but you chose the one with Ethan’s handwriting on it first. In his messy scrawl you read:

plus a shopping spree for anything you want to take with us :)

“Take with us? Where are we going?!” You exclaimed.

“Open the rest of it,” he urged.

You reached in and found two plane tickets to Maui.

“Holy shit! We’re going to Hawaii!?”

“We leave in two weeks. I figured it was about time we went there by ourselves. I got us a nice little villa to stay at, and we’re gonna go clothes shopping for whatever you want. Though, I do request you pick out many, many bikinis.”

You smacked his chest before you kissed him.

“This is too much. Way too much.”

“Not possible. Here, open this one. It’s not as exciting, but I think you’ll still like it.” He passed you the box and ripped off the paper. What else could he have possibly gotten you?

When you pulled open the box, you gasped. It was a beautiful ring, with a raw black crystal on it that had a tiny blue stone nestled in it. It was obviously hand crafted, and it was just your style.

“Ethan this is beautiful,” you said, picking it up and admiring it. “What kind of crystal is this?”

“It’s black tourmaline, and the little stone is zircon, which is my birthstone. Black tourmaline is for protection, so it’s my promise to you that I’m always going to keep you safe.” He took the ring from your hand and slid it onto your finger.

“I love you,” was the only response you could form as you crawled forward and settled yourself back in his lap. You kissed him hard, trying to say what you wanted without the words. No one had ever gotten you a gift so meaningful. He kissed you back, responding to each move you made, reciprocating as you lead, hands wandering.

He took you by surprise when he stood up, hands moving to your ass as he lifted you and carried you towards the door.

“Where are we going?” In all honesty, you didn’t care.

“I’m declaring it birthday week, and we’re celebrating every day. So we’re starting day two with cake.”

“I have sad news.”

His feet stopped and he looked at you, quirking an eyebrow.

“It’s not dairy free.”

He gasped a bit in mock hurt, but it turned into a smile that you kissed off his lips a moment later.

“Well then, I’ll just watch you eat cake and think of all the ways I’m going to spoil you until your next birthday to make up for this one.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

#this was so hard because I KNOW he would spoil the shit out of his girl for a bday #so this was the only realistic thing I could think of happening #i hope I did your request justice beeb!#thank you!!#lynds writes #ethan imagines #ethan dolan #the dolan twins #dolan twins imagines #ethan dolan imagine

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silverdreamsstudios · 3 years

Text

a6 dub update ♡

hi everyone!! i'm really sorry it's been very quiet on the radar, it's been very hectic lately!!

to be transparent, because i like honesty LOL i haven't been doing great personally ;; life is really at a stressful sort of state right now because school has been steamrolling me LOL combine that with my broken computer problems™️ and it's been just kind of messy and not great. i started my internship this monday, which i really love, but it's basically a full time job. because my semester hasnt ended yet it's been i go to work 9am-5pm and then i come home and do school for the rest of the night LOL and repeat ;; i don't really have any time for recreational things and my hobbies so that makes me stressy and not in the best of moods at times (rip) i just haven't had any time and my computer . is still not fixed. LOL im doing my best to try to stay positive through at all but it's also just taking a huge toll on me mentally LOL @.@ the past couple weeks have been very hard for me to get through because i'm just not very good at handling large amounts of stress without tears and tissue boxes XD

thus, unfortunately with all this stuff going on, i think the dub will probably end up going on hiatus for several weeks until i can get it together LOL i didn't edit as far or as much as i wanted prior to all of this >> and im praying they can fix my computer and get it back to me at a reasonable amount of time. so when my semester ends (finally), my computer is fixed, and i feel better mentally, we will be back XD

i'm really sorry we have to on hiatus ;; it's not something i wanted LOL but unfortunately just something i need -- hopefully not a long one though -- i hope to be back soon!! i don't have an estimate currently because it's all dependent on when i get my computer back, but hopefully before the end of june, we'll be back. i’ll post updates as things happen!! please wait for us ^-^

idk why anyone would have any questions or concerns LOL but if u d(?) or just want to talk to a6 with me because im always down for that LOL, you can always reach me at discord (Silver#7086)!! i respond here but im a lot slower on tumblr!!

thank you for your continued support ❤ ,

silver

#a6 #andromeda six #andromeda six fandub #a6 fandub #mod silver #life has been a steamroll for me LOL #i cant wait until my computers fixed @.@#and until my semester is over #i REALLY miss editing and whatnot #on the upside my internship is so cool #ive been learning so much!!! :D #i love it and my mentor is so kind #hes the best teacher ever and i feel like ive evolved LOL #the other interns (that are also students like me) are also so kind #anyways i really hope to be back soon ;;#much love owo

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barnesandrogersfanfics · 4 years

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Home - Part 17

A/N- Thank you all for the lovely comments on the last chapter!! 💕 I think this maybe coming to an end soon.... probably 2/3 more chapters and an epilogue? We’ll see how it goes lol 💕

"Oh hi Dr Forester its Y/N Y/L/N, i had a message to call you?"

"Oh yes! Y/N! I was just calling to inform you some of your test results got back late and something interesting showed up...."

"Oh, okay...?" I replied waiting for her to continue.

"Y/N....It would appear your pregnant"

"Im sorry..... I'm what now?!" I asked her, i needed to hear it again..... it wasn't possible!

"Your pregnant"

"A...are you sure? Like 100% sure?" I said feeling my heart racing like crazy.

"Yes" she chuckled "congratulations. Can you come in to see me tomorrow?"

"Erm... i guess so...why?"

"Just so we can check everything is okay and work out how far along you are"

"Ok"

"Im guessing this news is a bit of a shock?"

"Huge shock, yeah. I don't know how this happened I'm on birth control....."

"Have you missed any pills lately? Been sick? i know you've been under some stress lately..."

"Oh god, i missed a couple a few weeks back when i was sick. I was on antibiotics for a throat and chest infection"

"Thats probably it then"

"Well shit" i felt myself start to panic at the thought of telling Bucky i messed up!

Would he be happy about this??

"Ms Y/L/N?"

"Yeah?"

"I asked if you could come see me at 9am tomorrow?"

"Yeah sure, i'll be there" i told her nodding my head even though she couldn't see me.

"Thats great, i'll see you tomorrow".

After ending the call and taking some deep breaths i went back inside to get the girls, i needed to get home and work up the courage to tell Bucky the news.

"Everything okay? You look like you've seen a ghost" Wanda asked as i sat back down with her and began gathering our things together.

"Mhmm im okay, i just need to get home"

"Hey, calm down sweetie.... your shaking" Wanda said grabbing my hand to keep me still "you want to tell me about it?"

"I.... i cant.... not yet"

"You can if you want. I promise it will stay between us.... if you need someone to talk to...."

"Im pregnant" i blurted out with wide eyes that were rapidly filling with tears.

"Your... pregnant?" She asked with eyes just as wide as mine "wow..... i was not expecting that"

"You and me both! Wanda what am i going to do?? What if he freaks out when i tell him and he leaves me??"

"Okay I'm not gonna lie, he may freak out....but i know he wont leave you. Im afraid your stuck with him for life, that man is crazy about you" she smiled before pulling me in for a hug "congratulations by the way".

"Thanks" i mumbled against her shoulder "urghhh i feel sick".

"Okay lets wrangle the kids and get you guys home" she smiled at me wiping away a stray tear that had escaped.

"Okay. Girls.... time to go" i called out and waited for them to make their way over to where me and Wanda were sitting so we could put their shoes on and head home.

Steve was still hanging out with Bucky when we got home and i found myself sitting on the sofa nervously tapping my foot against the coffee table while they watched some football game. I felt like i couldn't sit still, i was full of nervous energy and couldn't settle.

"Doll you okay?" Bucky finally asked turning to face me to which i nodded quickly and forced a smile.

"Yeah why?"

"You've been tapping your foot for 40 minutes straight and your picking your nails"

"Sorry" i stopped what i was doing as if only just realising i was doing it.

"Its fine babe, you just seem antsy"

"Nope I'm fine..... is it hot in here?" I suddenly felt like i was on fire "I'm gonna go get some fresh air" i told him before making my way outside. I sat down on the back porch steps and let my head fall into my hands as i let out a frustrated moan. I looked up when i heard the back door open and watched as Bucky came out and joined me on the steps.

"You wanna talk?" He asked putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.

"About what?"

"About whatever is making you nervous"

"Yeah....." i nodded slowly "i just..... im scared"

"You dont need to be scared babe, i got you"

"While i was out with Wanda and the girls the hospital called. They got some of my test results back late...."

"Your not sick are you???" He asked leaning back to look at me, i could see he was nearly reaching panic mode so i quickly shook my head and took hold of hand.

"Im not sick Buck"

"You sure? Why else would they call you?? you'd tell me of you were right??"

"Im positive. And yes, id tell you if i was"

"Thank god! So what is it...?"

"Um well, she told me I'm...pregnant.".

I sat and watched Bucky closely as he absorbed this information, his eyes went wide and i swear he stopped breathing.

"Buck....."

"Your pregnant??"

"It would appear so. Look i know this is fast and we didn't plan for this...." i said quickly "i get it if your pissed...." i was cut off by Bucky crashing his mouth against mine before a smile broke out on his face.

"Your really pregnant?" He asked grinning as he looked down at my stomach.

"Yeah...." i nodded slowly, i was not expecting him to be this happy about it.

"Doll this is great news" he kissed me again before leaning back to look at me, tears rolled down my face freely as relief flooded my body.

"Hey baby, why you crying? your happy about this right?"

"I am happy Buck its just..... i thought maybe you'd be mad"

"Why would i be mad? The woman i love is having my baby. Our family is getting bigger"

"We never really discussed having kids...."

"Of course i want kids with you. Your already a great mom baby" he smiled kissing me hard "i cant wait to see you all big and round with my baby" he said running his hand over my stomach.

"Oh god i bet I'm gonna be huge" i moaned before laughing with Bucky.

"You'll be beautiful no matter what"

"I love you Buck" i stroked my hand over his bearded jaw.

"God, i love you too" he smiled before kissing me breathless.

"Oh, i have to go see the Doctor tomorrow at 9am if you can make it" i told him breaking the kiss suddenly "I know its short notice so if you can't make it i'll totally be okay on my own...."

"I'll be there. I wouldn't miss it for the world"

"Good" i sighed in relief, i really didn't want to go on my own at all!

"Can i tell Steve? I know we should probably wait but...."

"Sure, i told Wanda earlier I'm sorry! .... i was freaking out and it kinda just slipped out"

Bucky just laughed shaking his head "your so fucking cute doll" he kissed me quickly before jumping up and running inside calling Steve's name.

"Steve!!! Steve!!! Im gonna be a dad!!! AGAIN!!"

"Such a dork" i smiled to myself shaking my head as i got up to go back inside.

Home taglist: @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @lumar014

@bbmommy0902 @past-perfect-future-tense @heathens-takeitsl0w @captainchrisstan @ladymelissastark @93generation @sebastianstansqueen @oceansxpurple @Imjstaghoststory @rainbowkisses31 @superavengerpotterstar @cap-just-said-language @booktease21 @ms-betsy-fangirl @wildest-dream- @michelehansel @thummbelina @abbylizy @sweetlittlegingy @lorabem @barnesandrogersworld @dumblani @broco8 @xxloki81xx @keithseabrook27 @jesseswartzwelder @saiyanprincessswanie @stormi-ames

#bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #reader insert #sebastian stan #home

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mxloveforall · 4 years

Text

Hongjoong !Lee X Seonghwa !Ler

“joong come on, its already ten. You’ve done enough work today” Seonghwa stood in the smaller males studio tapping his foot.

“Ah hyung just two more minutes-

“No hongjoong, you’ve barely had enough sleep recently. Look i’ll leave now but meet me at the dorms in thirty oksy?” He exhales before leaving the room.

The distracted boy not even noticing his exit.

—————- 9am the next morning——

Hongjoong POV

I could hear a loud buzz waking me up from slumber as I awoke from a nap.. Blinking I saw the time on the screen it read 9am not pm. How could this be I took a short rest after hwa had left but I didn’t mean to fall into such a deep sleep.

Picking up my phone from the side and cracking my neck to the side, I read the hundreds of angry messages seonghwa had left me as well as the 10 missed call notifications.

“F*ck” I muttered. Leaning forward I switched the screen off, pushing up off my chair and grabbing all my belongings placing them into my bag.

Doing up my jacket I tried to munder up an excuse for hwa failing at every lie I thought off.

It didn’t take long until I reached the dorm waiting tl except my fate, twisting the handle i pushed open the door.

“Hello?” I shouted seeing who was in.

Before too long san, yeosang, wooyoung and jongho ran past me shooting me worried looks before running upstairs. Then an equally concerned yunho and mingi walked past also heading upstairs. What was up with them?

Chucking my bag at the bottom of the stairs I shuffled into the lounge meeting seonghwas furious gaze as I entered.

“Hyung I can explain-

“No No ! No excuses come here” He shouted. Gesturing to the sofa in front of him.

I lowered my head, feeling tears prick in my eyes. He was never this mad and I was the one who caused him to be like this.

“Hongjoong how many times? Hm? You are the leader of this group you need to look after everyone and be a role model. Now tell me how this” He pointed at my tired and slumped body on the couch “ is ideal? You need to rest and not overwork yourself do you understand” I looked up to him nodding my head.

“Hyung Im so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you this annoyed please is there anything I can do to make this better right now” I pleaded.

“There’s one thing you can do” He replied still with a cold tone. “Lie down” He instructed.

Nervous a concerned hongjoong laid himself out on the sofa. seonghwa walked over and draped a leg over the smaller boy and sat on his thighs.

“Now if you don’t move too much I promise it won’t last long” He cooed. But hongjoong couldn’t work out was happening until it was too late.

“Hwaaaahahahahah” The leader screamed, kicking his legs up in defence. Seonghwa was ticking under the boys arm with one hand whilst the other spidered along his neck.

“Sorry joong but this is deserved” He replied his ticking intensifying.

“Please hahahah sssttopphahahh” Hongjoong couldn’t stop laughing tears falling from his eyes and his cheeks were turning a brighter shade of pink.

Seonghwa changed locations and lifted the boys top up revealing his cute stomach. He wiggled his fingers to tease the male before attacking his tummy. gently he pocked between each rib, occasionally dipping his index finger inside his belly button. Each movement caused howls and shrieks of laughter to fall out of the smallers mouth.

“This is your own fault, will you listen to me now?” hwa asked slowing down the tickles.

“hwahah offaha courseahah” He giggled

“Hmm I guess i’ll stop for now..” Seonghwa let up moving off the boy. “But let this be a lesson joong next time I won’t be so nice” He smirked before leaving the room.

#ateez #lee!hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong #ateez headcanons #ateez tickle

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nike-shawn · 4 years

Text

Bad Boy, Part I

A/N: for those who have been following me for a while and have waited actual years for this series... here ya go.

Have ideas or questions for this AU? Tell me

Your heart is pounding so hard you can hear it as you scramble to throw Shawn’s belongings into any suitcase, backpack or grocery bag you can find, gathering it all in a heap and not bothering to even flatten it down before zipping the luggage and moving on to the next thing. Tears are streaming down your face and all you can do is sob, sob, sob, as you hear the sirens get closer. Your hands shake with the terrible tremors that come with nerves, so you struggle to even pick things up properly.

Shawn is sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. He has nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants on and his hair is still messy from sleep. You choke a little on your tears as you say, “help me!” No response. You throw one of his shoes at his back to get his attention. “Fucking help me!”

No response.

You can’t keep your cries quiet anymore as you throw the packed suitcase at his feet and shove a backpack into his hands. “Just take it,” you tell him desperately, “take it and leave right now Shawn.” He doesn’t move. You shake him by the shoulders, though your hands are trembling so bad it barely moves him at all. “Leave!”

He starts to shake his head. “It’s not worth it.”

“Fuck that!” you scream, tugging on his hand. He doesn’t stand, doesn’t even shift from his spot on the edge of the mattress. You can feel yourself absolutely falling apart. You suddenly feel so tired, like you’ve given everything you could possibly give and this was it. This is the end of it.

Sobs ripping through your body, you slump over against the wall in front of him, trying with everything in you to just catch your breath so you can tell him the things you’ve always wanted to tell him. You keep thinking about whether you’d ever get to say anything to him again. You’re thinking about a trial, about handcuffs, about jail-cells, about—

Shawn’s hand rests lightly on your head. His fingertips tangle in your hair. “I’ll be fine,” he says, but you can tell from the tone of his voice that he doesn’t even believe himself.

It makes you mad, the way he’s just letting this happen, as if he doesn’t have options. Your throat hurts from the constant pressure of your grief. You’re shaky, dejected, tired.

And when Shawn gets up and walks towards the sirens, you don’t let yourself follow.

You curl in on yourself, your fingertips digging so deeply into your calves that you can already feel bruises forming, and you keep yourself there.

There’s shouting and sirens and everything else but you keep yourself there.

Until a gunshot rings through the house.

***

You’re newly 19.

Shawn slides a cupcake across the card-table to you. It has a single pink candle in the middle, sunk down in the cake, wax already gathering at the very top. You push your hair behind your ears and close your eyes, a smile hinting at the edges of your lips, and you wish against all hope that you pass your final tomorrow morning. And then, as a slight afterthought, wish that you and Shawn stay together for a while.

You blow out the candle. Shawn waves away the smoke as not to alert the easily spooked dorm fire alarms and leans down to put a light kiss on your lips. As you start to pull away, he grips your shoulders and pulls you back in, slipping his tongue between yours.

“Happy birthday, Doll,” he says against your lips. “Here’s to many, many more with you.” He punctuates each ‘many’ with another peck to your pout, then pulls away with a smile. He takes up his original spot in the folding chair across from you and waves to the uneaten cupcake. “Go ahead. It’s all yours.”

“It’s got peanut butter in it,” you tell him.

He raises his eyebrows. “Right…”

You lean forward a bit, hinting that you’re looking for something more. The poor boy looks at you with the blankest stare. “I’m allergic to peanuts.”

“Oh, f*ck,” he mutters, immediately jumping to his feet and throwing the cupcake into the trash. “I’m so sorry, Doll, I completely forgot��”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” you laugh. “Don’t worry about it.”

Shawn tries to rake his fingers through his curls but there’s already a twisted bandana holding them back. “I’m really so sorry.”

You rise from your chair, shake your head and bury it in his shirt, wrapping your arms around his torso. “It’s really fine.” He smells like a mix of laundry detergent and cigarette smoke.

He’s tense for only a moment before he allows his shoulders to drop, his cheek resting on the top of your head as his hand settles into your back jeans pocket. The two of you start to sway, Shawn humming a bit, singing along to that new Drake song he’d just played in the car on the way back to your dorm from his house. His voice is low and calming.

The lock on the door clicks and you two break apart.

“Happy birthday— oh.” Naomi looks slightly disappointed as she notices Shawn’s presence. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Shawn clears his throat and takes a step back from you. “Hey Naomi. Sorry if you guys had plans, Im headed out now anyways.”

“You don’t have to go, Shawn,” you say, trying your best not to sound whiny and desperate in front of Naomi who already looks impatient, tapping her white Adidas against the tile.

Shawn smiles and assures you it isn’t a big deal and that he’ll “be back for dinner.” He waves goodbye to Naomi and makes sure to softly close the dorm door behind him.

Naomi’s smile suddenly reappears full force, as if it had never disappeared. “Alrighty, birthday girl. What are we doing tonight?”

You hide your disappointment as you hop up on your bed and pick at the seam in the mattress. You tell her that you don’t want to do much at all— “we can do a movie?”

Naomi nods absentmindedly. She starts to dig around in her backpack and your stomach turns at the sound of glass bottle against glass bottle. So that’s where she went, you think, watching with a cocked eyebrow as she pulls a Tito’s bottle from the bag. She turns around and shakes it to catch your attention. “Movie night with a bit of Tito’s?”

You weigh the options in your head. You and Shawn are going to dinner in a few hours, but he already told you he had work obligations after your dinner so you’ll be in your dorm with Naomi, either giving in to her boozy movie night or fighting off her constant pleas to go out to the bars with whatever boy is chasing her these days.

Neither sounds appealing.

You force a smile. “Mr. Tito can have a spot in front of the T.V.”

Naomi cheers a little and places the bottle on her desk. You wonder how she gets anything done— it’s a Thursday night, and she has class tomorrow at 9am. And when Naomi goes out, she doesn’t just hit a couple bars and call it quits. She stays out until the sun comes up, stumbles home alone (despite your continuous pleas for her to call an uber or just call you), and pukes until she can get up, wipe her mouth, and basically collapse in her 9am Econ class.

“So,” Naomi starts, “what was Shawn up to?” She looks skeptical. She’s fighting to keep her face under control but she’s never been one for theatrics— her pursed lips and fiddling fingers give it all away.

You shift a bit in your spot on the side of the bed. “He just stuck around for a second to give me a birthday cupcake.”

Naomi nods along. “Mhmm,” she hums. “And you were at his house earlier today?”

You start to feel like you were being interrogated. “Yes?” You say, irritation coloring your words. “Is that a problem?”

“Calm down. God,” Naomi replies, laughing a bit through her nose to lighten the conversation. “I’m just asking. You never let me know where you are so sometimes I get worried.”

You want to call her out on her bullshit, want to tell her that there are stretches of three or four nights where you have no idea where she is, either. But you don’t. You just nod and announce that you’re going to get ready for dinner. It’s not for another two hours, but you need any excuse to leave the dorm.

You walk to one of the many community sinks and splash water on your face to wake yourself up. You start to hum along to that Drake song, the one Shawn got stuck in your head, and you start to think that maybe you’ve gone crazy because you hear Shawn’s voice, not inside your head, but down the hall. It’s slightly hushed, as if he’s trying not to bother someone, and it’s low enough that you can’t make out what he’s saying. You almost go into the hall and find him, ask him who’s on the phone, but then there’s another, louder, slightly familiar voice that is joining Shawn’s mumbles.

“Thank you so much, man,” the other voice says. “I just call this number?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shawn says. “Don’t forget this time or the job’s gone. He was pissed the first time.” There’s some small amount of humor in Shawn’s voice as not to sound rude or intrusive, but the words obviously held meaning. His voice is no longer hushed and you hear them exchange goodbyes, the other voice saying that he’s glad he ran into Shawn, and then the elevator dings and you know Shawn left.

The other voice begins to walk towards you. You hear the footsteps get increasingly louder on the tile. So you resume your examination of your face in the mirror, pretending to be extremely interested in the blackhead on your nose, and as the man passes by you only see a flash of blonde hair. He’s moving quickly, almost like he knew you were scoping out his face.

You didn’t think you knew him, but his voice was so familiar. Maybe you just recognize it from the many useless floor meetings your RA calls—perhaps he’s even in one of your classes. But something about the whole situation makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. What were they talking about?

Their conversation coupled with Naomi’s ever-present skepticism is enough for your stomach to turn. Part of you wants to run to the elevator and chase Shawn down, demand he tell you exactly what’s going on, but you don’t. You know you can trust him. He’s a good guy. Although you two have only been dating for a few months, you know that he’s reliable and honest. Shawn was just offering this guy a job. Right? You splash some more water on your face.

Yes, you tell yourself. You’re being crazy. It’s just a job.

Right?

Right.

***

Dinner with Shawn was fine.

He noticed you were quiet. He would tap your nose flirtatiously, saying something like “cats got your tongue?” or “did you not like your food?” You would just force a laugh and assure him that you were stressed about your test or that you were tired. He didn’t believe you. He would push some more before sensing that he wasn’t going to get anywhere and drop the subject. After a while, you saw the tension in his hand as he gripped his glass. He was stressed, or angry, or something in between.

Fine. You were stressed and angry too.

Dinner with Shawn was fine. Just fine.

He drops you off in front of your dorm. You don’t kiss him goodbye. He doesn’t really seem to care. He drives off.

Fine.

You lean against the wall in the elevator after pressing the button and mindlessly scroll through your phone. The doors begin to close but someone thrusts their hand between the doors so they abruptly open again. You briefly look up out of habit, but your eyes linger once they catch the man’s face. A bruised eye, a cut lip, a bump on his forehead. You try to be discreet, but the space is so small and there isn’t anything to pretend to distract yourself with. He’s handling the pain well, from what you can tell. His hands are shoved in his pockets and his face is devoid of anything that would hint to you that he needed medical attention.

Surface wounds, then. Maybe he was robbed. Maybe the thugs just ruffed him up enough so he was too distracted to call the cops right away. Or maybe he fell off his bike. There were a million things could explain his wounds but for some reason you were completely taken aback. And his hair, his hair was similar to the hair of the man you saw in the hall earlier today.

The doors open and he swiftly exits the elevator. You follow him down the hall, stopping outside of your door and turning the lock but waiting for a moment, looking after him to watch him go into his own room. It’s the one two doors down.

When his door closes, yours opens abruptly. Your heart jumps.

“What are you doing?” Naomi asks, looking in the direction you were only to see an empty hallway. Her face is scrunched up in annoyance, like your curiosity somehow inconveniences her.

“Sorry. I was just staring, I guess.” You shrug, pushing past her into your shoebox of a room. Naomi has the cartable covered in red solo cups, signifying an awaiting game of beer pong, and she’s dressed in a tube top and high-waisted, ripped jeans. You look down at your own outfit and frown. You and Shawn went to a nicer restaurant, so you’re wearing that old gap dress that your mom got you for your birthday a while ago.

You look like you just came back from church, and she looks like she’s about to go to Diddy’s birthday party.

“Get changed. We’re going to Mario’s to get margs and then to that bar on eighth, the new one.”

It’s not up for discussion, then. Anger builds in your chest, but you fight it down. She’s trying to entertain you in the only way she knows how. She doesn’t mean to be rude.

You get changed, down a couple shots of that Tito’s and add more black eyeliner. There’s a knock on the door and Naomi opens it to reveal Jeffrey, that guy who bought an uber for her once and whom she now regards as some kind of frat boy Prince Charming. He looks stupid. He’s wearing a button-down Hawaiian shirt and khakis.

Whatever.

They start to play a flirty game of beer pong. Each time Naomi makes a shot, Jeffrey pretends to be upset and pout like a fucking three-year-old until Naomi kisses it away.

Once the kissing turns into a make-out session that ends up with Naomi pushing all the cups to the floor and sitting on the edge of the card table, you say “I’m ready to go, c’mon,” and grab your jacket off the back of your desk chair, leaving without checking to see if they’re following you.

You’re just so… annoyed. Your birthday is dictated by everything besides what you want to do. Naomi couldn’t give less of a fuck about what you like to do, you made Shawn mad, and you spent half the day worrying about some kid you’ve never met before.

And you have a stupid final tomorrow.

You’re embarrassed. You look so dumb in your tiny cut-off t-shirt and jeans that are much too tight with holes that are much too big. You have so much black eyeliner around your eyes that people could mistake you for a racoon. Your boyfriend bought you a cupcake you couldn’t eat because, oh yeah, it had the one thing in the world you can’t eat.

The elevator dings and you step forward as the doors begin to ease open.

“Oh, hey,” Shawn says as he almost runs right into you coming out of the car. “What are the chances of seeing you here?” he jokes, his smile wide and nothing at all reminiscent of his earlier expressions. He changed from earlier, now dressed in your university’s football team’s jersey and black jeans. He seems to catch on that your mood from dinner hasn’t gone away. “What’s up? Naomi said we’re all going out for your birthday.”

You nod and push past him into the elevator. Of course, he follows you.

“Seriously, what’s wrong,” he said, exasperated. “You’ve been pissed off all night.”

You lean your head back against the wall and cross your arms over your exposed stomach. “I’m just mad that Naomi planned this without telling me.”

“It was a surprise, baby.”

You take a deep breath. “I told her I just wanted a movie night.”

“She’s just trying to do something nice.”

“I get it, Shawn,” you say, anger building in your voice, “but she completely went against what I wanted to do for my birthday—”

You stop. Shawn’s finger was pressing the close-door button so the elevator could begin its descent, but your eye caught the discoloration on his knuckles and your mind went blank. He follows your eyes and laughs. “Did you see these?” he asks. “I thought I was super macho and didn’t need gloves at the gym. Boxed Jaimie without them. Stupid idea.”

You hum your recognition of his excuse, but panic was building inside of you. You knew your hands were going to start to shake so you pull your jacket closer around your body and you leave the elevator quickly, pacing ahead of Shawn. He’s close on your heels and your anxiety peaks.

The bruises on his knuckles. The bruises on that kid’s face. The hair. The conversation.

You realize that you don’t know your boyfriend at all.

Not at all.

A/N: What do you think will happen next? What do you want to happen next? Tell me!

Requests are open for blurbs, so ask away!

#Shawn Mendes imagine #Nike-shawn #angst #fics #Shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes fanfic #bad boy fic #bad boy shawn

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benhardyisdaddy · 5 years

Text

Royal Protection - Part 4

MASTERLIST

(hello welcome to this chap, i feel like its drawn out and im SORRY but i just needed things to be added so its more clear in fiture chapters. promise next one will def be more angsty and ben will obvi be in it a lot more so get readyyyy)

Word Count: 2,070

The blood had drained from your face, leaving you confused and pale. You stare at your parents, motionless as your mind goes crazy.

“What did you just say?” you barely whisper, shocked you were able to find your voice.

Your mother looks to your father quickly as they both take a step towards you.

“We received a letter early this morning,” starts your mother.

You can clearly tell she’s trying hard to hold back tears as she speaks. Your father notices this as well as he gently places his hand on her lower back.

“It stated some things that made us very concerned for your safety. You’re our daughter first and a princess second, which is why… Which is why your father and I believe it’s best if you weren’t in the country. At least until everything is figured out.”

Your brows knit together as you slowly shake your head.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” you quietly say. “I have to leave the country? Bloody where to!?” you half shout.

Your mother jumps a bit and exhales, trying to calm down.

“You can’t look suspicious at all. We’ll have to change your wardrobe, possibly your hair, your-”

“My hair!? What is this? The witness protection!? It was one stupid letter, it couldn’t have been that bad! People make threats all the time and they never go through with it!”

“But they’ve never made threats against you!” yells your father, catching you off guard.

He exhales and takes a step towards you.

“Y/n, please… We have everything already set up. Joseph actually helped us all morning with it. You fly out today and-”

“Fly where?” you ask, holding your breath.

Your mother takes in a deep breath before speaking.

“United States. More specifically, Kentucky.”

Your eyes open wide as your mouth falls open. You take a few steps back and run into Ben, freezing. His hands gently grab your arms to help steady you. You repeatedly shake your head.

“Kentucky!? Like the chicken?” you ask, causing you to feel Ben chuckle against you.

You look up to him fast and narrow your eyes, causing his scrunched up face to go serious. You look back to your parents and they’re looking at one another, their eyes speaking to each other. They look back to you and nod.

“You’ll be safe there. There’s a small town, with not a lot of people. It’s perfect. A motel has been rented out for as long as we need it for. Your bags are being packed as we speak.”

“What did the letter say?” you ask quickly, making everyone in the room go silent.

You look over to Lucy and her face is filled with fear as she looks lost in her own train of thought.

“That’s for us to know.” says your mother.

“No! It was about me, so I feel as if I should be able to know what it said!”

“Money.” says your father fast, not wanting another argument to break out. “They wanted money, my love. And they said they would use you to get it. That’s all I’m saying.”

“How much?” you ask, knowing you were pushing your limits.

Your father rolls his eyes and leans against his desk.

“794,070 pounds is what they demanded. About a million in U.S dollars. Last time, that’s all I’m saying. Now, please,” he begs. “Let Lucy help you get ready. You have one hour.”

Your shoulders slump as you hear the doors behind you open up, telling you it’s time to exit the room. You slowly turn around and stare at the floor as you walk by Ben, not daring to glance up at him. Lucy is beside you in a second, wrapping her arm around yours and gently squeezing it. The three of you make your way back to your bedroom and inside. Ben stops just outside your door and turns around, facing the hallway. You watch him for a moment before turning back to Lucy.

“It’s going to be okay.” she says, trying to sound confident.

She was attempting, but failed. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen.

“I don’t want to go.” you whisper.

She shakes her head fast as tears appear to fill her eyes.

“I don’t want you to go either.” she whispers back. “It’s okay to be scared, y/n.”

You half smile to her.

“Me? Scared? Never.” you reply back, sniffling a bit.

Lucy leans forward and engulfs you into a huge hug. You hold her close to you as you squeeze your eyes shut and open them up, watching for a split second as Ben had his head turned, watching the two of you. He spins around fast and you can’t take your eyes off of him. A new country. A new security guard. A new life? Now you really wish you weren’t a princess.

***

“What do you think?” asks Lucy.

You turn around and stare at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are wide as you look at the tight, dark jeans covering your legs. Princesses were never allowed to wear pants, only dresses or skirts. It feels so odd to be in the castle with this on. You shirt consisted of a black t-shirt with nothing on it. Your shoes were black sneakers, something you were not used to wearing as well. You were about to greet your parents in ten minutes and say your final farewell. Goodbye, I hope to see you when my life’s not in jeopardy. See ya soon, hopefully when the crazy person is caught. You weren’t sure exactly what you would say. Everything was happening too fast, it felt like your head was spinning. You didn’t want to leave, but you didn’t have a choice. You force yourself to smile and turn around to look at Lucy.

“Blends in nicely.” you say, causing her to smile.

“Good! And the ponytail?” she asks, curious.

“Never had my hair in one before. I actually really like it.”

She squeals with happiness as you applaud her wardrobe skills. You look back to yourself in the mirror and admire how the ponytail shows off your face. You felt almost like a new person, which was what they were going for. You turn around fast when there’s a slight knock at your door. Ben’s standing there, paused as he takes in your new look. He catches your eyes and you blush while smiling.

“What do ya think?” you ask, looking down and then back up.

“It looks… Not like a princess, which is good.” he says, standing up straight and clearing his throat. “Princess, your parents are waiting for you in the parlor.”

You smile and roll your eyes as you begin walking towards him.

“It’s y/n.” you tell him, causing the corner of his mouth to raise up for a moment.

Lucy walks past him and raises a brow while smirking, causing him to go back to being serious. You walk and walk until you reach the foyer. Your parents are stood in front of the door, waiting for you. When they spot you, their eyes go wide. They weren’t use to seeing you dressed like this. Your mother had a few tears slip from her eyes.

“Well,” you start, not knowing what to say.

“The car’s waiting for you outside.” says your mother. “Oh! And here,” she says as she hands you a phone.

You look at it confused as you slip yours from your pocket.

“We need your old phone. This one has all of the contacts you will need, so do not be contacting anyone outside of who’s already on there. Understand?” asks your mother firmly.

You nod and hand her your old phone.

“Understand.”

She smiles and looks to Ben.

“Benjamin, this is a lot to put on a person. We thank you so much for this.”

Ben bows his head slightly.

“My pleasure, your highness.”

You raise a brow and look to Ben then back to your parents.

“He’s going with me?” you ask. “I thought Joe would. Or at least them both go.”

“Joseph had agreed to go with, but I am not forcing him to give up his other responsibilities. Benjamin has this covered, don’t you?” asks your father.

“Yes, your majesty.”

Your father smiles and motions to the guards to open the doors for you. A giant, black SUV is waiting outside, in front of the long row of steps. The windows are tinted completely, allowing nobody to see inside. You take in a deep breath as you turn back around and hug your mother, father and Lucy tightly. You didn’t want to let go.

“Alright,” you start. “I guess, um… I’ll see you soon?” you say, fighting back tears.

You couldn’t allow any of them to know how terrified and sad you were. You had to be the strong one, telling them everything will be okay. They smiled sadly to you as your father hugs you once more and kisses the top of your head.

“Strength before fear.” he whispers in your ear, for only you to hear.

You fight the even more strong urge to sob right then and there. You pull away and smile to him, nodding. He cups your face before taking a step back. You begin walking down the castles steps as you reach the SUV. You turn around once more and wave to everyone as they watch, your mother and Lucy both sobbing. Ben opens the car door for you. You look to him and quietly thank him as you slip inside. You buckle up and look out the window, watching as everyone continues to stand there. The smile on your face drops as you hear Ben’s car door open and shut. He slides in next to you and peeks over to watch as you stare out the window. The car begins driving away, causing your heart to break. You feel a tear slide down your cheek, not daring to wipe it away. Your head was turned, knowing Ben couldn’t see it. But he did.

***

“How long is this going to be?” you ask, being buckled in.

You had finally managed to get on the private jet as Ben helps you get settled. His face is leaned down in front of yours as he tries to get your seat belt to work. He looks up for a second, his face only inches away from yours. You both stare at each other a little longer than you should have before he looked back down again. The buckle finally clasps together and he stands up fast.

“About eight hours and thirty five minutes.” he says, taking his seat next to you.

You groan loudly and lean your head back on the seat.

“And the time change is going to be miserable, isn’t it?” you ask.

“Well,” starts Ben, getting buckled in. “It’s 2pm here right now, making it 9am there. Bit of a time change.”

Your once annoyed attitude was now changed to a cheerful, smiley one.

“Well,” you say looking to him. “Just gonna have to pretend we’re on a holiday. A holiday to… Kentucky.”

Ben smiles and laughs a bit, looking over to you. The plane begins moving and you all are about to take off. You look out the window and watch as the runway below you starts drifting away. Ben watches you closely, wishing that he had been chosen for a different job. Not because he didn’t like you. No, the complete opposite actually. He liked you a little too much, causing his concentration to be fogged up a bit.

“Ever been to Kentucky?” you ask, turning to face him.

Ben looks away hoping you didn’t notice his staring. You did. He squints his eyes, pretending to be in deep concentration, making you smile at his failed attempt.

“I don’t think I have. Been to the states before, just not there. Have you been there, princess?” he asks, looking to you.

You roll your eyes playfully and nudge his arm.

“Benjamin, it’s y/n.” you tease.

He smiles at you and catches himself admiring how beautiful your smile is. He clears his head quickly.

“Ben.” he reminds you as well.

You laugh and shake your head, before looking back out the window. Hopefully this plane ride will go by fast. Hopefully these odd feelings you have for your new security guard will too.

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#benhardyisdaddy #ben hardy #benhardy #ben x reader #benhardyxreader #benhardyxy/n #Lucy Boynton #gwilym lee #rami malek #joe mazzello #ben hardy x reader #royal protection #princess #securityguard!ben #body guard!ben #angst #fluff #part 4 #princess!y/n

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evanstanwrites · 5 years

Text

The Notebook - Part 4

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warning: fluff, angst, smut (chapters marked with *)

In 1940, Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes meets 17-year-old y/n at a carnival.

A/N: I’m back at writing :D but I’m still doing fysio therapy so the rest of this series will be slow updates until i’m back at my 100%

cowriter: @pawfect-melody

cover by: @im-finallly-clean

masterlist

series masterlist

“I forbid you to see that boy.” her father yelled at her while she lets out one of the most heartbreaking cries. This couldn't be true he couldn't do that to her. After her father's outbreak the room was filled with silence and softly in the distance she could hear footsteps walking on the front porch and suddenly she knew that Bucky probably had heard the whole conversation. She shot up from her seat and ran out the door not listening to the shouts of her parents. Bucky was walking to his truck with his head bowed to the ground.

“Bucky wait!”

She yelled out to make sure he heard her making him stop in his tracks still looking at his feet waiting for her to catch up with him.

“Buck please don't leave like this, I'm sorry for what my parents said . Please Bucky don't go. I love you.” she cried when she stood in front of him.

“Well that's the problem here, you love me and I love you. But it's wrong, we can't be together. I can't offer you what you need y/n, I'm just a poor boy who works at the docks. I'm nobody.” Bucky almost yelled out with tears in his eyes.

“All I need is you, we'll live in that house by the lake and we'll be happy. Please Bucky don't go, don't leave me, I need you.”

Y/n cried while trying to hold Bucky but he pushes her away.

“no we can't and we won't. It's better for you to hate me. This hurts me more than you think doll. You need to move on from me, I'm not good for you.”

“no don't do this to us, to me. You coward!” she yelled

She didn't understand where her anger suddenly came from, but it filled her and before she even knew it she had slapped Bucky right on his left cheek. Bucky knew he deserved it but it still hurt like hell being slapped by the woman he loves. He didn't get angry, he only looked at her with sad eyes and mumbled “I’m sorry” walked past her and got in his car.

“ you asshole, I hate you, get out of here you asshole “ she screamed while the tears streamed over her cheeks. She regretted saying what she had said the moment it left her lips. She loved him not hated him, she hated her father for forbidding them to see each other. The moment she heard Bucky’s truck come to life all her anger left her body and made place for despair and sadness. He was really leaving her, setting a point behind their relationship. She ran as fast as she could to the drivers side of the truck.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I love you. Please Bucky don't go I love you.”

But he didn't even look at her, he ignored her and just drove away taking her broken heart with him.

“no Bucky!” she cried out falling on her knees onto the gravel of her driveway. It may be unlady like the way she sat there crying, wrapping her arms around her waist folding into a ball. She didn't want to believe what just happened.

“It's not over.” she kept telling herself because for her it wasn't, the next day they would talk it all out just like they always did when they had arguments. She didn't know how long she sat there, but she eventually felt two warm hands lifting her head and stroking her tears away. When she looked up at who the hands belonged to she saw the brown eyes of her mother looking worried at her.

“come inside my child, you'll freeze out here.” her mother said pulling her up and walked her inside the house.

Once inside her mother ordered a maid to draw y/n a warm bath and to bring her dinner to her room. Her mother left her in the care of the maid and was out the door without another word. The maid guided her to the bathroom and then she left too.

The rest of the evening past in a blur like she wasn't a part of it. She kept reliving the events of that night, first she had the perfect first time with Bucky filled with love and passion, then the terrible argument with her parents, then the one with Bucky. It broke her over and over again making her lay awake in bed all night. She promised herself she would talk to Bucky in the morning and everything would be alright again, if she needed to she would run away with him if it meant that they could be together she would do it without thinking twice.

It was already 9am when she got out of bed and headed downstairs where her parents sat at the breakfast table surrounded by boxes.

“good morning dear, did you sleep well?” her mother spoke from her spot at the table on the left side of her father who was busy reading his newspaper. He didn’t even look up, she went to her spot on his right side and sat down. When she asked what all the boxes where doing there she wasn’t prepared for the answer of her mother.

“we’re going back home.”

“but summer isn’t over yet.”

“your father needs to get back to work, they need him.”

no this couldn’t be true, they couldn’t pull her away from Bucky.

“we could stay mama.” she softly suggested knowing she wouldn’t get to hear what she wanted to.

“no y/n we’re all going back home, you start studying for your final year at school so you can work at your father's office. now get dressed, we leave in an hour.”

she knew she couldn’t change their mind, but she couldn’t leave like this, not in the middle of an argument with Bucky. She got up from the table without eating and left the room. Once she was in the hallway she ran upstairs and got dressed in no time, she needed to get to the docks and talk to Bucky before she left, maybe there was a way to still run off with him. He needed to know she didn’t hate him but loved him. running as fast as she could to the docks where Bucky was supposed to be working. When she arrived out of breath she couldn't see him anywhere.

"Bucky!" She yelled as loud as she could but he didn't come, she only drew the attention of the other men working there. She felt desperate, she needed Bucky, she couldn't leave like this. Just when a tear rolled down her cheek she heard someone call out her name from behind her,when she turned around she saw Steve standing there. But if he was working then Bucky should be here too. Maybe he didn't want to see her and Steve came to tell her she thought.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked while walking closer.

"Where is Bucky? I need to talk to him"

"He's getting a delivery done in town. Why do you want to talk to him, it's over."

"It's not over Steve, we'll get through this just like always."

"I don't know y/n, I was with him last night and it looked and sounded like it was. Just let him be, I've never seen him so broken like this before. It's over." He said with regret in his voice.

"No it isn't Steve, I'm going away and I need Bucky to know I'm really sorry and that I love him. Please tell him that, can you please tell him?" She pleaded.

"It's over y/n, move on." Steve said just when a car arrived at the docks and her mother stepped out of the car.

With a face full of tears she just nods and starts to walk to where her mother is waiting for her.

A few feet further a man stood hidden behind large crates listening to the conversation between his best friend and now ex girlfriend. He couldn't handle it, he couldn't face her right now. Not while knowing he was the reason for her tears and broken heart. He knew she didn’t mean what she had said yesterday. But hearing her saying she loved him and that she was leaving in the same sentence broke him, he needed to hold her one last time.

"Y/N!"

She froze, there where Steve had just stood Bucky appeared with sad eyes .

"I'm so sorry doll."

Y/n looked from her mother to Bucky and then ran into his open arms crashing her lips onto his kissing him passionately for the last time.

"I love you doll."

"I love you Bucky, I'll be back. I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean it. I love you."

Bucky stroked a wayward hair out of her face looking at her with tears in his eyes but filled with love.

"I know doll, I said a lot too that I didn't meant. I do love you but I won't be mad if you find someone else back home. It was just too good to be true."

"I'll be back, I don't know when but I'll be back and maybe then, maybe then we can be together."

With tears in his eyes Bucky shook his head.

"Maybe doll, but I think it'll be better for you if you move on. You're leaving, we don't know if you're even coming back next holiday. So this is me protecting your heart." He said wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Y/n! Come here,we need to leave." She heard her mother calling for her from the car.

"I love you Bucky, I'll never forget you." She said wrapping her arms around his waist hugging him close for the last time.

"I love you too y/n, I'll try and write you as much as I can."

He kissed the top of her head before letting go of her and let her walk to the car while his own tears rolled over his cheek until the car was out of sight.

please don’t forget to like, comment or reblog

tags:

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#Bucky Barnes #bucky fic #40 bucky #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fluff #bucky and reader #Bucky angst #The Notebook #Sebastian Stan #BUCKY AU #Steve Rogers #marvel #captain america #Winter Soldier

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aspiringhorrorauthor · 4 years

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Hey who wants to hear the miserable story about how I had to deal with loneliness this year? Feel free to scroll on I just need to write it down to, I suppose close the chapter on the story? Read if your curious, or maybe also need guidance, or just want to learn some tips on how to help someone dealing with it. This will be poorly structured it’s just... getting it off my chest I guess.

People talk sometimes about university students often struggling with loneliness, and often going overlooked because they’re not seen as ‘vulnerable’ as other populations. I mean, look! They’re in a city! They go out every night and piss off the locals! They can’t be lonely!

It started back in 2018 (yup, that far back), when my friends decided that it would be better for my mental health if I didn’t live with them. No lie, that was the actual fucking reason. I was heartbroken; I’ve missed out on a lot of typical “growing up! Yay!” Type things because of my mental health, trauma and bullying and the fact that “living with friends” was gonna be added to the list was fucking heart breaking. But I dealt with it, because I had no where else to turn. No one else to move in with. I cried for like 2 hours solid after they so sweetly told me they didn’t want to live with me because I have *anxiety*. Not even one of the quote unquote “””scary””” mental illnesses (which would have been a MAJOR dick move), just plain old anxiety attacks and hiding from people to calm down. I proceeded to have break downs every Wednesday for 3 months while searching for somewhere to live, bc it was always a stabbing reminder that I was so unwanted.

(They planned to move in with 2 other people so it’s not even like they were only searching for a flat to fit *just* them)

I study 300 miles away from home, literally the exact opposite part of the country. Despite not having many friends growing up I was never lonely because I had a great family who would always chase it away. Maybe I was lonely a bit at school, but I could always come home and my parents chased it away. It was recurrent, but not constant.

I got a place for the new academic year. Studio flat, great location, tiny and over priced to Hell but I was in a safe area which was great because *no one was looking out for me anymore*. I didn’t have flat mates to check I was alive everyday, no one to chat to when I got home. If I got sick, I was completely on my own. My next door neighbour is lovely, don’t get me wrong, but she’s a working professional, and I’m a second year student. Everyone else in studio flats are mature students, masters, phD students or working people. And me. I have so little in common with these people it’s tough to start a conversation with them.

My birthday is early in the academic year, so we didn’t celebrate it until about a month after. Half of my friends didn’t even bother, no card, no presents. Okay, fine, I’m not materialistic, but acknowledgement would have been nice I suppose. This is the only time they came around my flat, and they are the cake I baked to celebrate.

But they inexplicably started to just stop interacting with me. There were 5 of us, they’d pair up in lectures and only talk between themselves between lectures and left me sat quietly trying to speak to someone, ANYONE, because hello? I haven’t got FLATMATES. I talk to NO ONE outside of this “friendship” group. They don’t seem to care much, they just keep telling me how wonderful it must be to live in a studio.

They invited me round to celebrate another friend’s birthday at their shared flat. He gets presents from everyone, including the two that left me out. Their flat looks lived in, there’s board games out while I don’t have room for any of them in mine. They’ve got bean bags everywhere it looks so damn nice. “But your kitchen is bigger than ours!” Eve tried to tell me (an absolute LIE), but they don’t roll out of bed and immediately land in the kitchen. They don’t have to chose between watching tv, eating or living the flat any time they want to dry clothes bc there’s no room. I want to cry throughout the visit, I storm off once were done. I don’t know why. I know now.

Loneliness feels like a weight on your chest. It’s a double edged sword where both edges only cut you. You desperately seek interaction but it also upsets you. I wanted to hang out at their flat because I hadn’t hung out with them in nearly a month at this point, but when I got there I realised they hung out together every. Single. Night. While I cried alone in my room. It made everything so much worse. And they laughed it off.

They stopped posting in the group chat, they talked to me even less. Never invited me out, but there’s no way I could prove *they* went out so it was pointless complaining about it. I was meant to go to a concert with one of them, I reminded her about tickets an entire month before, offered to buy hers. She cancelled 5 hours beforehand. I went alone.

It was a Toyah concert. I fought back sobs in the opening song “Good morning universe”, because it repeatedly asks “how are you today?”. I was awful. I finally had it figured out. I was lonely, isolated, and I didn’t know what to do.

Before anyone gets too sad, the story only continues for 2 weeks past this concert.

1st November, they joke about how Blake, friend number 4, practically lives at their flat, and I get angry. Why does HE get to live there? Blake has flatmates, Blake’s not alone! I should be practically living there because there’s NOTHING in my flat but silence. The internet is on the fritz and I’ve yet to figure out the tv, I don’t even have background noise except the kettle! I storm off, vow to never interact with them again.

I go out for drinks with my neighbour for her birthday. She buys me a pint of coke bc I don’t drink. I hate coke, but I drink it all and chat with her friends. It was a great night.

That weekend I bake pumpkin cake and bread for knitting society, and calm down. I overreacted a bit surely. One more chance, that’s all I’ll give them. The cake and bread doesn’t all get eaten at the society so I bring some for them on the Monday.

Tuesday night is bonfire night. I sit in my flat wishing I could go out and see them rather than just hear them, but I don’t know where to go. I have no one to go with.

Wednesday im sat in lectures beside them, and a friend not in the group but still a friend comes over to chat. One of them excitedly tells her about how they went to a display last night “look at these photos I got of (friend in group)!” I ask if they went out last night, the phone is quickly put away, they ignore me. I ask again. The friend outside of the group is confused and leaves before the lecture starts. I spend 3 hours with loneliness ripping out my lungs, because how could they? They could’ve dropped me a message to say they were going and I could meet up, but they didn’t even do that? Why?

After the lectures finished I corner one of them. The first of my friends at university. The first person on my course I befriended. “Did you go out last night?” “Yes” “without me?” Another runs up “it was last minute it wasn’t planned!” Laughs it off. So I rush off. I don’t say good bye. That was it.

I went home and cried. Told my parents what happened. Cried down the phone to them. “It’s time to cut ties with them”. I know it is. It’s still hard.

So yeah. Miserable story. But any sad story should have a happy ending, right?

Yes.

The next day I told someone what had happened. She immediately called it bullshit and invited me to join her friends. They’re really nice. I like them.

I left the old group chat. No explanation, just “I’m hanging out with X now. Laters” and I left. I wrote my frustrations and explanation in a shitty poem, called it shitty in the poem itself, but also said they didn’t deserve better. They didn’t deserve even that, so I didn’t send it. I think it was a very sexy decision of mine.

But most importantly, through the hardest points, most of my weekly socialisation every week came from the two societies im part of: my society (knitting) and the nerd society. 4 1/2 hours a week of socialising isn’t enough, surprisingly. But it got me through.

But more importantly are the people I met there. I don’t want to tell them what happened, I fear they’ll be upset that they didn’t help more, but they helped so damn much. So much more than could ever be expected from anyone. That final Wednesday, when I’d cried my heart out, 2 people texted me out of the blue and lifted my spirits so much I laughed that evening where I’d cried in the day. Stupid texts too. “Baby rabbits and kittens, cos you’re a vet right?” And “I only just got this message, I would have LOVED some pumpkin cake 🙁”. Poor lads probably weren’t expecting the wild conversations we had afterwards but friendships blossomed from it. Sorry new friend, hope you like the cheese scone recipe you definitely did NOT see coming that day.

The society meets on a Thursday, but it was to be a video watching thing more than a social thing. Loneliness was still tearing me up inside, I wanted to talk to someone damnit! But I went because I needed cheering up. I laughed so hard, I sang theme songs with others, and we all went to the pub afterwards. I’d never been before, I planned to leave at half 10 so I could shower and go to sleep in reasonable time for a 9am lab. I got chatting to the cake boy at 22:25. By the time we left the bar and he’d had his fill of chocolate rolls at my flat (I offered, he was hungry and Sainsbury’s was closed) and I was in bed, it was 00:40. Oops.

But I wasn’t lonely anymore.

Whats there to learn? I suppose don’t take advantage of your friends. If someone is living alone, check on them OFTEN. Make sure you don’t just pair up for conversations in lectures. Invite people round more.

And don’t under estimate the power of a text message. The lack of one ruined one friendship, one daft one about pumpkin cake built another.

(And I baked cookies for my new friends and we ate them in front of the old friends. Get rekt).

#long post #loneliness

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avengerofyourheart · 6 years

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Flour Girl {2} (Bucky x reader AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky (Jimmy), Clint, Wanda.

Summary: Discovering the cute guy you just flirted with is the heir of a rival bakery, you suddenly find yourself running into him all over the city. Can your small boutique bakery compete? And how do you deal with the guy who seems determined to make your life a living hell? Luckily you’re distracted by a secret admirer…But who is he? (Inspired by “You’ve Got Mail”, Enemies to Lovers)

Warnings: none! Mild swearing?

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Aahh!!! I’m so grateful and elated that you all loved part one!! This baking fic is kind of my heart and soul and I’m so glad you’re loving it and love the idea of it. There’s so much more to come and a lot of snarky banter mixed with sweetness! I love you all. Please let me know your thoughts! I love to hear from you!! :)

<<Part One Part Two Part Three>>

Flour Girl Series Masterlist

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The drive back to your bakery was a blur after your interactions with Clint and Jimmy. How could a regular morning take such a sharp turn for the worst? Parking in your designated spot in front of your building, you walked through the store front and offered a smile to a few customers being helped by Wanda. Setting down your coat and bag on the chair in your tiny back office where you did paperwork, you then rolled your shoulders and neck to release tension that had gathered there.

Somehow you had finished your morning baking, done your deliveries, discovered that the competition was moving into the neighborhood, and flirted badly with a cute guy who happened to work for the rival bakery. It wasn’t even 9am.

A deep breath and a few more stretches later, you decided to shake off this morning and get your hands in some some dough. That’s when you were most comfortable and in control, when you were baking. Tying an apron around your waist and washing your hands, you punched down the growing yeast dough one more time before dumping it out onto the floured wooden surface.

It all became muscle memory then, rolling out the dough and spreading your special cinnamon filling over the whole surface. Sprinkling a few chopped pecans on top, you then rolled the dough into one long log and began to cut the dough evenly before placing each roll on a cookie sheet. Your cinnamon rolls were one of our top sellers, so you made them fresh almost every day. You also received special orders where customers would asked for a dozen at a time.

You were just cleaning off your table when Wanda hollered back that she needed a few different types of cookies. Reaching into the two-door freezer, you placed the cookie dough balls on sheet pans and slid them into the oven. It was more efficient to make a large amount of dough at a time and freeze it to be baked fresh when needed.

Later you brought the cookies up front and Wanda restocked the case filled with baked goods. You checked that the self-serve coffee pots were filled and creamers were still cold. Restocking a few of the sweeteners, you then took one last look around, satisfied that everything was in its place.

“Wanda, I’ll be in the office if you need me,” you told the long-haired brunette.

“You got it, boss,” Wanda smiled.

Wanda had been with you from the very beginning. It had only been a year since you had turned in your business proposal and were approved for a loan, allowing you to open the bakery. Renting retail space in New York City was ridiculously expensive, but you did have one saving grace. Your landlord was willing to lower the rent slightly because it was also the building you lived in, up one floor. You had agreed to serve as superintendent, since he lived outside the city. It was a lot to take on with your business and also getting random calls in the middle of the night about broken thermostats and clogged toilets, but somehow you made it work.

You had just taken a seat in your office with coffee and a muffin when your phone chirped. Fishing it out of your apron, you saw a text message and swiped to open it.

Hey dillweed, you messed up our order again. That’s the third time this month, dude. Get back here and fix it.

Staring down at your phone, you blinked a few times and read the words once more. Well, clearly that message wasn’t meant for you. Normally, you’d just ignore it, but it seemed important, so drafted a message and hit send.

Excuse me? I think you have the wrong number. I am not a dude. And what kind of insult is dillweed anyway?

Three dots appeared as the other person was typing and seconds later another message arrived.

Oh, I’m sorry. I must have typed the number in wrong. My mistake. Sorry to bother you. Also dillweed is a perfectly acceptable insult, thank you very much.

The response made you laugh. You were about to delete the messages and forget all about the exchange when you changed your mind and started typing. After this morning, you could use a little harmless entertainment.

FG: You typed in the number? What’re you, 90? If you know someone well enough to insult them, wouldn’t they be saved in your contacts?

A few more seconds later, you saw their response.

B: Well, Ms. Judge-y Stranger, if you must know, I have a bad track record with cell phones and rarely have them for long so I memorize most numbers or keep them in a notebook. Happy?

Another snort before you responded.

FG: Ecstatic. You’re right, I don’t know you at all and have no right to judge. It’s impressive that you can memorize numbers. My generation has completely lost the ability.

B: How do you know we’re not the same generation?

Grinning, you shot back a quick reply.

FG: You never refuted my claims that you were 90.

B: Oh. Well, I’m not. I’m 24, for your information. And you?

You hesitated then, unsure about telling a stranger anything about yourself. This was just harmless fun. After thinking a moment, you sent out a vague reply.

FG: I’m somewhere around there.

B: What’s your name?

That was a hard stop right there. Nope.

FG: I think that’s enough chatting with a random stranger for today. I’ll keep my personal info to myself, thank you.

B: Well, I might know more about you than you might think. I know you are not a dude and from the area code, I know you’re a New Yorker.

Huh. Well, he wasn’t wrong. Before you could reply another message appeared.

B: I’ve already offered more info than you have, but I’m a giver. I am, in fact, a dude and also a New Yorker. See? Not that difficult.

Another laugh escaped your lips. You then noticed the clock and felt foolish to spend so much precious time on this silly conversation, entertaining as it was.

FG: Well, dude. I have to get back to work. Nice chatting with you.

B: Oh? What do you do? Is FG your initials? Fiona Gale? Franny George?

You couldn’t help yourself and sent a laughing emoji with tears.

FG: Nice try. Later, dude.

Back at work, you couldn’t help but think about that absurd text conversation. It was probably just a one-time thing, but it definitely turned your whole day around. Pulling out the ingredients to make tart dough, you couldn’t help but hum to yourself. Thank you, dude.

___________________

Part 3>>

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Oooooh, intrigue!!! Who’s this mysterious texter?? Also, cinnamon rolls. *drools* I’d apologize about making you all hungry, but I’m kind of not sorry. :D Mondays and Thursdays might just be days we all give up on our diets. ha!! Would you have texted back? Do you think she’s smart to keep her information to herself? Never can be too careful!! I hope you’re excited for part 3 on Monday!! I’d love to hear what you think of this chapter!! I adore you all. Thank you for reading.

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky au #bakery au #reader x bucky #bucky fluff #enemies to lovers #reader x james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes imagine #flour girl fic #marvel fan fiction #avengers fan fiction #baking #cinnamon rolls

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reesewestonarchive · 5 years

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chapter seven / rem belongs to @forlornraven / masterpost / mature content

Twenty five cents seems so much heavier than it should. A weight in his pocket, in his palm, and Nakoa knows getting the heaviness from him will only make him feel better, but…

He still can’t pick up the receiver.

Rain pelts against the side of the phone booth, and Nakoa shivers. Across the street, Rem sits in the van, his feet kicked up on the dashboard, smoking. Nakoa can just barely make him out through the foggy window panes.

They haven’t talked all morning. Not even so much as a hello.

With shaking fingers, Nakoa drops the coins into the payphone and lifts the receiver. Dials home, and waits.

If his father picks up, Nakoa will hang up. He’ll return to the car, he’ll ride off into the sunset with Rem. If his father picks up, Nakoa won’t listen, won’t even speak. He’ll let the fucker wonder.

“Hello?”

It’s his mother. Nakoa’s heart clenches, nausea twists his stomach into knots. He voice cracks a, “Mom?” and he feels twelve years old again, the first time Michael hit him. Donna says nothing, though, so Nakoa says, “Did I lose you…?”

“No, one moment, let me get a pad…” Then, distantly, “Just someone from work, Michael, I’ll take this in the other room.”

Relief spreads through his veins, and his eyes burn with unshed tears. She’s keeping him from Michael, and—he chokes out a laugh. Thinks if she’s stood up for him years ago, this wouldn’t have happened.

“Nakoa,” she says, her voice watery and weak. “Are you okay? I won’t ask where you are, but are you okay? Do you need money? I can—” She pauses. “I don’t know how I would get it to you, but I /could/, sweetheart, I could.”

Nakoa grips the receiver, closes his eyes tight against the onslaught of tears. Fuck. “I didn’t—No, Mom, I’m fine. Are you okay?”

A sigh of relief. “Now I know you’re safe, yes.” Another pause. “Why did you leave?”

“Don’t—this isn’t. I’m not—” He leans his head against the phone box. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I miss you so much,” Donna says. It feels like Michael’s hands around his throat, hearing her words. “I wish you would come home.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” He swallows. “I just wanted to let you know I’m okay. Okay?”

“You’ll visit, though, won’t you?”

Fear grips him tight around the throat. “No—I can’t—” Once upon a time, Nakoa thought maybe he’d never get out of his father’s sight. Now that he has, the idea of ever seeing him again…

He looks back at the van, at Rem playing air guitar in the driver’s seat. “I’ll—I’ll call again, okay?”

“Nakoa, wait!” Donna hesitates, then says, “He has people looking for you. You know your father is an influential man, I just… please be careful.”

People—why the fuck would Michael care about it. Why would he waste resources on finding his own fuck up of a son?

Nakoa shakes, anxiety rocking him apart. “I gotta go. Love you, bye.”

He slams the phone down in its cradle harder than he needs to, steps out of the phone box, and stumbles to the van. The rain’s at a downpour now, and when Nakoa climbs in the passenger seat, next to Rem, he’s soaked.

“How’d it go?” Rem asks, turning down the music. Then, seeing Nakoa’s expression, asks, “Hey, what the fuck—what’s wrong?”

Nakoa’s throat feels tight, tears burning at the corner of his eyes again. He blinks, says, “Nothing,” but then Rem’s hand is on his shoulder and Nakoa breaks.

His sobs are silent, quiet things sung to the backdrop of The Cure, and Rem pulls Nakoa into a hug, awkward from the angle but no less appreciated. He speaks against Nakoa’s ears, but the blood roars too loudly in his ears to be heard.

Searching for him. Nakoa thinks about the stories Rem’s told him, about the guy with a bat, the windshield, and, when he can speak, Nakoa asks, “Did you know?”

“Know what?” But Rem sounds sufficiently confused, and Nakoa doesn’t want to believe he’d lie to him, so he decides he doesn’t believe it. “Hey.”

Nakoa doesn’t look at him. Thinks back to all the stupid shit he’s said and done, the mixtape, leaving in the first place without a plan. “Rem.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.” His voice is soft, and in the storm, Nakoa thinks this is the safest he’s ever felt. Locked away from the world in Rem’s arms.

Maybe it’s how lost he feels, maybe it’s Rem’s breath warm against his neck, but Nakoa still feels safe enough to say, “I think I’m in love with you.”

It doesn’t hurt to say them. Nakoa’s not sure if it’s because he already hurts so much, another piece of it won’t make it worse, or if it’s…

Rem’a lips brush against his neck, soft, softer than Nakoa’s used to from him, but he says nothing. After their morning, Nakoa’s surprised by his closeness, surprised by how easily he came to Nakoa, but.

“I’m an idiot,” Rem says.

Nakoa blinks. “That’s not exactly the response a guy wants to hear.” Rem laughs. “Neither is that.”

“It’s not… badly received, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Rem clears his throat, pulls away. “…you’re…that’s…”

“I wasn’t going to say it,” Nakoa says. “That’s what the tape was for. Kind of let you figure it out on your own.” Without Rem’s body heat, the van’s cold. Nakoa reaches for the knob for the heater, fingers shaking again. “I didn’t wanna fuck this up.”

Rem’s voice is soft when he says, “You wouldn’t have fucked it up. Hell, if I haven’t fucked it up…”

But commitment’s a different storm than… whatever it is they’ve been doing. Intertwined, but Nakoa knows the feelings he gets from Rem, but he’s wanted to fuck plenty of people. Rem goes farther than that.

He always has.

“Hey,” Rem says, knocking his elbow against Nakoa’s. “We’ll figure this out. That’s what we do, right?”

Figure it out. A weight settles in Nakoa’s chest. “Right.” He turns away. The van no longer feels like home, but like a prison. Maybe he was better off at home, under Michael’s thumb, or…

With a frustrated sigh, Rem says, “I’m not. I don’t mean—”

“Can we just not talk about it? Forget I said anything.”

“I can’t say it back.” Rem gives a frustrated groan. “I’ll get there, okay, I will. Just, this is important. You’re important.”

Nakoa certainly doesn’t feel that way. He clears his throat, wipes a hand down his face, and says, “Can we just go?”

He splurges for a hotel on the coast. It takes half of what Nakoa has left, but it’s worth it for two nights of the view of the ocean, for two nights with the salty breeze.

For two nights of Rem getting decent rest in his own bed.

They arrive at 9am to the hotel. Nakoa’s kept his distance for a while, after his accidental confession, and he hasn’t touched Rem without being touched since. He’s passed out in the passenger seat, instead of sleeping with Rem on the mattress, because the closeness feels wrong in the aftermath of Nakoa’s words.

But he steps out of the van and closes his eyes at the wind coming off the ocean, and feels peace. Water droplets spray his face, and Nakoa imagines what it might be like to drift away on waves like these, away from Michael, from money and the concern of where they’re going to sleep next.

Rem takes two towels from their room for the beach, and Nakoa disappears with a fake ID to the nearest liquor st to surprise him with a bottle of whiskey.

“Aw,” Rem says, twisting the top off. Behind him a sign reads, NO ALCOHOL ON BEACH. Rem downs half the small bottle and hands the rest to Nakoa. “You spoil me.”

Nakoa shrugs, downs the rest of it.

With the people around, Nakoa keeps to himself a little more, thankful for the excuse. Still, Rem has other ideas. “No one knows us here,” Rem says, against Nakoa’s neck. “We could fuck on the beach if you wanted.”

“And get thrown into jail?” Nakoa snorts. “Actually, fucking you might be worth the public indecency charge.”

Rem’s mouth is warm at his neck, sends shivers down Nakoa’s spine. “You think you can take me?” His voice is low, rough against Nakoa’s ear.

“Bold words,” Nakoa says, but instead of turning around and pulling him into a kiss, Nakoa elbows him in the ribs and ducks away, laughing as he takes off down the beach.

They settle, finally, a good distance away from the others. Nakoa slathers sunscreen across Rem’s back after he writes ‘fuck me’ with the lotion, feels the reverberation of Rem’s voice against his own hands as Rem speaks.

“I thought we could head back through the mountains, right? Montana, then through North Dakota.”

Nakoa wants to tell him they should go back to Colorado, but the place still has Nakoa checking over his shoulder, so maybe not. Maybe this is best, this haphazard map searching.

“Maybe settle in for a week somewhere,” Rem says. “Get a job or something.”

“You mean I get a job. When was the last time you held down anything?”

Rem shoots him a look over his shoulder, reaching for the lotion. “Depends. When was the last time I fucked you?” He pushes Nakoa back against the towel, bites at his neck. “I miss handcuffs.”

Through the fog building in his head and the heat building in his stomach, Nakoa says, “You lost the keys last time!”

“They were plastic!”

“You had to cut me out of them with wire cutters,” Nakoa says, but he’s grinning. Rem’s pressing kisses along his torso as he goes down, his hands holding him up, sinking into the sand. Nakoa really doesn’t want sand in his business anymore than strictly necessary. “I’d rather not be locked up and at your mercy for the rest of my life.”

“No?”

“Gotta have my fun too, don’t I?” For a few seconds, he just stares into Rem’s eyes, hoping, searching… until Rem pulls back with a goofy grin, and the world rights itself.

“What?” Rem’s eyes are shining.

Nakoa shrugs. “Nothing, just…” His gaze drifts, over Rem’s eyes, his hair, his tattoos—down the horizon, down the beach, across the water. From their spot in the sand, it’s hard to see anyone at all. They’re almost completely hidden by a small spot on the beach which is hidden by rocks. Rem has a mischievous glint in his eye, and he unbuttons Nakoa’s jeans, fingers moving so slow Nakoa can barely handle it, before Nakoa shoves him away with a laugh.

“Come on!”

“I’m not fucking you here,” Nakoa says, grinning like a fucking fool at Rem. He thinks about the mixtape, about Rem’s response. He thinks about what Rem had said about not being able to say it back.

He thinks about Rem, about how much Nakoa does love him, in spite of his bullshit, in spite of the shitty things that he drags them through.

Nakoa’s hands ache for a joint, and all he wants to do is get high and fuck, slow and leisurely, until Nakoa’s not sure where he ends and Rem begins, but Rem, here, sober and smiling and pleased…

He’ll take it.

Rem covers him in sunscreen and presses open mouthed kisses along Nakoa’s shoulders, then pulls him up against a rock and leans against one of the shadowed sides. Sunglasses sit atop Rem’s nose, blocking out the sun. He’s already turning red, though, Rem.

With a longing glance towards the water, Nakoa crawls up to lie beside Rem. He sinks into the warm sand, like a backrub against his muscles, cramped from the van. If he lifts his head, just a little, he sees Rem.

The warmth, the breeze, the distant sound of kids playing. Rem sitting at his feet, his breathing quiet and steady.

It’s more like this than it isn’t, but it’s still not often enough that Nakoa won’t take the brief respite from the bullshit.

Nakoa dozes. Dreams of small ocean-side cottages and sex in motel rooms, in resorts. Working at a job he doesn’t hate, of Rem’s smile and his laugh and the cadence to his voice when he’s trying to turn Nakoa on (so, always).

When he wakes, Rem’s fucking with a Walkman, fumbling tapes between his fingers. “Hey,” he says, nudging Nakoa with his foot. “Come here.”

So Nakoa goes, because he always goes, settles in between Rem’s legs, his back to Rem’s chest, and waits for Rem to plop the Walkman in his lap. Rem shoves the headphones on over Nakoa’s ears and says, “Listen. Yeah?”

His hand brushes down along Nakoa’s arm, and, after hesitating for just a second, Rem presses play.

#road to nowhere au #my writing #I forgot about this oops #I mean I've been writing it #but I forgot about it

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princesscatherinemiddleton · 5 years

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Inspired by the lovely @harry-sussex‘s post on when she saw Meghan in New York, I’ve remembered I never actually made a proper post about the time I met Meghan and I decided that needs to change I also never made a post about the time I met Anne but woman drives past me in car isn’t exactly that thrilling

When it was announced that Harry and Meghan were due to come to Bristol, my first thought was “YES!” A close second was “Why not Kate?” and my third was “Can I make it?” February 1st was a uni day and, more importantly, it was my last day of uni with my seminar group before we begin to stay in school full time. And so, with great reluctance, I decided I wasn’t going to go and then I convinced myself I didn’t even like the Sussexes so it didn’t matter.

But fate intervened because February 1st arrived and Bristol was under several inches of snow and, of course, that means it had ground to a halt. I was up, ready for uni, when I got the email saying the grounds were shut and suddenly, my day was free. I spent a while on Twitter and watching the news until it was confirmed - Meghan was still coming to Bristol also Harry was coming

And so, at 9am, I convinced my mum I would be safe in the snow and if it was too cold I’d come back and I would get a bus because they were still running and I left the house and ignored everything I promised and walked to town. By the time I got there, it was 9:45am and I think I had frozen but my adrenaline kicked in. At this point, only 4 or 5 other people were there, as well as lots of security guards and the press pack. I also noticed there were several snipers on the roof of the Old Vic which at least gave me something to look at.

The wait had begun. And it was a long and cold wait. The snow was still falling but the snow under my feet had melted so my feet were wet and cold. I always imagined when I met Meghan (or Kate), I would be wearing a lovely dress but not, I was wearing a huge coat, scarf, hat, and gloves and I had a really red nose (I’ll add a photo later). The time passed as quickly as it could. I spoke to some of the policemen about their work and their plans for the weekend. I also gave two interviews (which I never found again) - one was to some minor radio show and the other to BBC Points West. I think the fact I was like “I’m here to see Meghan. I really don’t give a damn about Harry” counted against me in the being shown on TV race.

Eventually, the news came through that they were due at 11:30. By this point, the crowds had grown and, because of the snow, Harry and Meghan had decided to only walk along the side closest to the Old Vic, so we were all moved across the icy road. I ended up super close to the door, which was great! After a while, the crowd on the other side of the road had closed again and the Old Vic people came out and told us that Harry and Meghan would take one side each - Meghan, the side I was on, and Harry, the other. I yelled “YES!” very loudly and I was glared at by a lot of women who were there to see Harry, but honestly, I was getting frostbite to meet one person and that was not Henry. The press pack started getting ready and the Old Vic staff came out. Peaches, the Lord Lieutenant of Bristol, came down and spoke to us, but still no sign of the main event.

11:30 came and went. I was on the verge of tears at this point because I was so cold and also getting elbowed by a lot of people around me, most of whom were middle-aged women and I think also Richard Palmer??? Finally, I heard a cheer which could only mean one thing. They were here.

I took my gloves off, which was maybe the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but I didn’t want Meghan’s hands to get wet from my damp gloves. She took her time with everyone so I spotted Harry first and, despite everything, I was excited. I’ve known of Harry since I was a child and there he was. Real and a few feet away. The children from the nursery were chatting amongst themselves and really improving my mood and suddenly, I caught of glimpse of Meghan’s hair. I spoke to the girl next to me and we were both like “she’s so beautiful”. Eventally, Meghan was close enough for me to see her properly.

Like Katie said, she’s so much smaller than she seems, and yet still than me! Her hair looked super soft. I could see her freckles and it excited me and for those few minutes I was in love with my own freckles. She was wearing green boots - they looked like suede - with heels and all I could think was how impractical it was, until I remembered I was wearing platform heels because they’re my shoes with the best tread. The boots were still ugly though. She was taking her time with people, asking how long they’d been there, saying people had cold hands, telling people she loved their hats or scarves.

When I first showed my mum the video of me meeting Meghan the first thing she said was “why did you laugh so much?” and honestly, mood. I think I went slightly mad. I remember wanting to tell her how pretty she was and I wanted to say thank you for coming. Her hands were super soft (like girl, what moisturiser do you use?) I was holding my phone to my shoulder and she noticed my X Files case and was like “so cool”. She was still holding some flowers she had been given earlier so she turned around to give these to Amy and when she turned back, she met my eyes again and smiled for a moment. Then she moved on to the lady next to me.

I saw her dress fall in a puddle and I saw Amy pick it out. I saw her call Harry over and I saw her clutch his hand for a moment. I saw her gently hold Baby Sussex (BABY SUSSEX WAS SO CLOSE TO ME OMG). I saw Harry joking with the children and I saw how their faces lit up to see a real prince and princess.

The rest of my day was super dull and mostly focused on me sitting in a Starbucks with hot chocolate trying to warm up and trying to explain to my sister why I’d gone out in the snow when I’d been ill two days earlier. But I met and spoke to Meghan and I fell in love. So, here’s me staring at Meghan with love rather than the photo of me glaring at Harry

#personal #meghan #harry #bristol #royalvisitbristol

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spnfanficpond · 5 years

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November 2018 Pond LiveChat Recap

We had a great time chatting with Rhi, @kittenofdoomage!!! Thank you so much for joining us!

We talked about getting readers, interacting with readers, and how Tumblr has made it more and more difficult with their changes for new writers to get noticed. Details from our discussion with Rhi under the cut, as well as notes on what we’re working on in the Pond!

Q: Do you wait until you are done writing a series before you begin posting, or do you post as you write?

I wait until I'm done writing a series. At some point, the idea will catch me and I have to write the entire thing, which will take about three days. Editing for another 1-2 depending on my betas and then it gets released in its entirety on Patreon (my patrons like reading the entire fic in one go, they're paying for it so I'm not gonna make 'em wait) and comes out in chapters on Tumblr about three-four weeks later. I hate feeling like I'm making people wait too long and then shit happens like it did with three of my permanently hiatused fics.

Q: Well, as for why we're here, Rhi, you get so many asks every day. How do you have such involved readers?

A lot of my readers who respond are regulars. I have those who pop up with the odd "this is awesome" and those who will write long involved reviews which I love!

Q: Do you think there's anything in particular that you do that encourages people to interact with you?

Yeah, I'm open with people and pretty approachable. I like discussing things, plot points, characters, anything really. There are very few things that trigger me, too. I have only three specific things that will turn me away from a fic. I think my lack of triggers helps with people who need someone like that to talk to.

Q: Do you ever ask around and try to figure out what people are looking to read to try and help boost your reader count or do you just draw inspiration from your own ideas?

At the moment, I'm mostly working on commissions, so it's other people's ideas. I'm lucky that most of my Patrons and commissioners are very patient with me and know up front that I have no specific time limits. I will write it but I can't force it. And I won't force it because that leaves everyone with a shit story.I never put an idea away forever though. I write them all down. If inspiration hits for something, I write it there and then because I never know if I'll get that mojo back.

Q: Has there ever been an Idea that has caught you by surprise when you start it as one thing but it ends up as something else?

Only about six thousand times.

Over The Hills And Far Away that I'm writing now, was supposed to only be a Dean x reader but my reader decided to go and have chemistry with Sam too.

Q: Have you noticed a bump in followers after you do anything specific?

I always have a bump in followers after Sinful Sunday. Unfortunately, I always end up with a bump in unsolicited dick pics and porn bots, too, so a purge usually follows. When I post new characters or fandoms, too. I've recently picked up a bunch of Marvel followers.

Q: As a big blog, you must also get some hate. How do you deal with that?

They don't like me because I play with them and their insults are like water off a duck's back with me. Unless they bring my kid into it. I shut an entire set of blogs down when that happened. That's also why I no longer post anything to do with my daughter. I will avoid using her name wherever possible. If I'm in a bad mood, I ignore it. If I'm feeling like an utter bitch, I'll tear them a new asshole.

Q: Rhi, it sounds like you have a lot on your plate with family, work, and writing. Is there anything in particular that keeps your creativity flowing so you don't burn out?

I try and do something different every day. Painting, gaming, going for a walk - it's important for me not to spend all my time on one thing. Even if it's just cleaning. I also listen to a lot of music - Classic Rock on Absolute Radio is my fav. Actually, my favorite time to think about fics is when I'm about to go to sleep.

Q: I'm not sure how to even ask this, but I came into the spn fic fandom a little late and so I'm finding it difficult to gather new followers. Do you have any advice? I have a master post with the few pieces I've written but I've gotten a lot of flack for writing OCs...

Tumblr is not helping with regards to gaining new followers lately. Tags aren't working if you're an NSFW blog, no one can search anything. The only thing I can suggest is reblogging, asking other authors if they'll read your work.

[Other suggestions from the chat included submitting fics to @dirtysupernaturalimagines and the Pond, joining other people’s writing challenges (The Pond’s S14 Challenge is here, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing is always running challenges, and @mrswhozeewhatsis has a tag #writing challenge on her blog). Also, “Tumblr loves porn” and the fandom loves Dean, in particular, so writing more Dean smut will get you more readers. Just adding “Dean x Reader” to the tags, even if the relationship is barely mentioned, will get you more readers. Sam will get you the same result, but to a lesser extent. Rhi got bigger writing ABO fics, and carved out a niche for herself with them to the point she’s considered the ABO expert in reader insert fics. Another tip was to strip OC’s of names and defining physical features, since OC’s don’t get a lot of love. Many “Y/N”’s are actually just OC’s without a name. Also, if you’re writing a story that will eventually have smut, list “eventual smut” in the tags.]

Q: Random question: a bunch of us smaller blogs have noticed a drop in reblogs over the last year or so, and I'd be curious to know if, as a bigger blog, you've seen anything like this as well?

Absolutely. A year ago I was getting about 10-20k notes a day. Now, if I hit a thousand, it's a good day and I'm expecting to take a massive hit because of Sinful Sunday, if they don't entirely delete my blog.

Q: Does anyone have any idea why the notes have all dropped so much? Is it a glitch in notes? People being more apprehensive to reblog nsfw things because of all the nsfw fear going on?

Community responses: The posts with outside links not showing up in searches is related to bots and porn blogs that only reblog posts to add a link to a sketchy outside web page. Several months ago, though, Tumblr started the “best stuff first” algorithm (which can be turned off in your dashboard settings, but not everyone knows this), and that pushed posts with few notes to the bottom of the dashboard feed. Since you never really get to the bottom, those posts never get seen. Tags and reblogs to build up note counts are the only way to combat this. Now, messing with the search functions means that there will be no new readers without blogs that just reblog fics, like the Pond and @dirtysupernaturalimagines and such.

[Editor’s Note: Rhi told us she’s working on a UPS Driver!Sam fic!! I’m excited. “What can Brown do for me?” YES, PLEASE!]

What’s coming up in the Pond:

Angel Fish Award nominations are due by the end of the month, so you have less than a week to submit yours and gain an entry for every nomination into the raffle! Win fabulous prizes just for spreading love! HOW COOL IS THAT? (Also, don’t forget to submit your own fics to the Pond so that other Pond members can easily find them and nominate them!)

Note: Please use the submission form to submit nominations. Asks do not allow you to include a link to the fic, and sometimes we can’t find what you’re nominating, especially now that Tumblr searches don’t work.

Design contest to find a Pond graphic! Entries are due by the end of the month, so less than a week away! So far, we have ONE (1) entry! (I mean, it’s a pretty fabulous entry, but still!) Winner gets their choice of swag with their design on it!!

SPNFanFicPond Season 14 Weekly Episode Writing Challenge - Since we didn’t have a new episode this past Thursday, the previous week’s challenge is still collecting submissions. (Honestly, there’s no deadline on any of them. Post a fic using a prompt from any week, and you’ll still be added to the masterpost and reblogged on the Pond blog.)

New Member Spotlight Post coming soon! Check out last month’s post here!

Still accepting additions and discussion about the Warning Tag List (tags to be used to assist folks in avoiding triggers and protect their mental health, not be confused with tags to help people find or avoid preferences). Reply or reblog the post itself, or send an ask to the Pond with suggestions!

Plans are in the works to try and make the blog more app-friendly. Please be patient with us in the meantime!

Plans to expand the beta program to make it easier to find the type of beta you need are also on the to-do list.

Housekeeping Note: If you send an ask to the Pond and do not get a response in a couple of days, please notify one of the admins (Michelle - @mrswhozeewhatsis, Mana - @manawhaat, or Kale - @aprofoundbondwithdean) via IM and let us know!

Thanks to everyone who joined us this month and made it an awesome conversation!! Can’t wait for next month!

Next month’s discussion: Giving feedback to other writers and how a beta reader can help your writing! Joining us will be @littlegreenplasticsoldier!

Be there Dec. 15th at the usual time! (Los Angeles - 2PM, New York - 5PM, London - 10PM, Melbourne - Sunday 9AM)

#spnfanficpond #chat room #spnfanficpond live chat #THE CHAT ROOM #pond chat

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