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getitoutofmymindwrites · 1 month

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The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k

Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart. Or This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

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...need your reassurance...

...your only focus…

...for the foreseeable future...

He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.

For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.

You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.

Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.

“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.

Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.

“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.

“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.

“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.

“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.

Therapy was hard.

Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.

But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.

He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.

“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.

“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.

“And what were those?”

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Did she say that?”

“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.

“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.

The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.

Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.

“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”

“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.

“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”

“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.

“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.

Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”

“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”

Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.

“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”

“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.

“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”

“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”

“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”

“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”

“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”

"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.

“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”

Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.

“Joel?”

“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.

He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.

“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.

You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.

“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”

“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.

“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.

“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”

Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.

But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.

No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.

No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.

No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.

When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?

A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?

Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.

People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.

No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.

The papers are not ready.

Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.

Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.

An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?

You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.

The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?

So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?

Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?

Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.

Can you turn back time?

Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.

You know I can’t..

Sign the papers. Please.

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”

“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.

“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.

“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”

His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.

“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”

The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.

“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.

“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”

“She asked me to leave the house.”

“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.

“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”

“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”

“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”

“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.

Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”

Fuck.

How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?

His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.

“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”

“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.

Touché.

“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.

“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.

Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.

“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.

“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.

Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”

“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.

“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.

“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.

“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”

“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.

“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”

“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.

“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”

The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”

“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”

“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”

“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.

“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”

Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.

“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.

Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”

“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.

“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.

“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.

“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.

Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.

“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.

“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.

“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.

Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.

But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.

Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”

“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.

“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.

Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?

“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.

“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”

You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?

But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.

You were right.

It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.

There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.

Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre

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mysticalblue09 · 2 months

Text

Everything from Shelby’s vod

It took Shelby 10 months after the relationship to heal

Wilbur cared more about how it looked

It was subtle in the way Wilbur abused

It didn’t start out with Wilbur hurting Shelby out right

Wilbur wanted to make sure that Shelby was ok with the biting so that she couldn’t come back later and say he abused her

As time went on, Wilbur kept biting too hard more and more frequently

Wilbur decided that he didn’t want to keep “accidentally” hurting Shelby so they came up with a safe word

Wilbur made it seem normal and told his friends and made it seem like a bit to take Shelby’s arm and bite it in front of everyone until she has to shot in pain. And she just has to laugh it off

Shelby kept telling Wilbur after these bits happen that she didn’t like it and that he needed to stop biting so hard

Wilbur replied that this is who he is and he wasn’t going to change.

Wilbur would constantly contradict himself and then try and gaslight Shelby, that he didn’t say these things and how do you know that it’s not your memory being false

Eventually, Wilbur weaponized the safe word and used it insure that Shelby was hurt and on a constant basis

Wilbur wasn’t sorry anymore. He had stopped apologizing so long ago that Shelby doesn’t remember the last time he had apologized

Now, sometimes Wilbur would bite Shelby so hard, she would yell out the safe word because it hurt so bad.

Instead of letting go, Wilbur clamped down even harder or he would grind his teeth down.

He would sometimes smile after.

At one point Wilbur had pinned Shelby down and asked her to try her absolute hardest to get him off of her and she couldn’t do it

He said something to make the point that he was so much stronger than her. That she wouldn’t be able to fight back.

Wilbur said he didn’t have time and energy to do the stuff that Shelby was asking for and then would constantly make any sorta time and energy for anything but her

Shelby was constantly anxious, nauseous all the time, gagging daily, occasionally throwing up because of the bit in her stomach

Shelby would tell Wilbur that she felt unwanted and ignored and he would reassure her that he loved her and that he loved her more than she loved him

Wilbur would INSIST that he loved her more.

Wilbur was love bombing Shelby at the beginning of their relationship.

One month into their relationship, Wilbur was talking about them being soulmates, about forever, about how he wanted to be a dad

On the decline of the relationship, Wilbur doesn’t want kids at all and he has NEVER wanted kids

So Shelby brought up marriage and Wilbur said that he still wanted to marry her

Now, he instead says, “I’m not the commitment guy. You know that.”

Shelby did not know that.

By the end, before Wilbur went on tour, he was basically flaunting that he would never prioritize Shelby over anything

Wilbur was never gonna prioritize Shelby over anything that would give him more fame or money.

He said that himself, directly to Shelby.

Wilbur said he wanted to see how much fame and money he could get.

Wilbur admitted that he had grown to resent Shelby

This was the final push to get Shelby out of that relationship

After the relationship ended, Wilbur was “kind” enough to ship Shelby back her clothes

Only her clothes.

Wilbur trashed everything else.

He lived in filth.

Wilbur would spill things and never clean them up

Wilbur got an ant infestation once and was never gonna do anything about because he said bugs are normal in British houses

Wilbur wouldn’t clean his bathroom for months and months and months but would constantly complain about how bad it smelled

Shelby then told him that it was mold.

But Wilbur would insist that it wasn’t mold even though he hadn’t cleaned in months

When they met, Wilbur was washing his clothes without detergent and then hanging it on his filthy kitchen cabinets

Shelby found out after they broke up that Wilbur didn’t clean at all when she wasn’t there because he just waited for her to get there to do it

Shelby was paying for all the cleaning supplies like soap and paper towels

Shelby was paying for food more than half the time because Wilbur would push her to order for them even if she had paid for the previous meals

Shelby was also paying for every plane ticket and every cat-sitter and Wilbur never offered to help her pay

Shelby told Wilbur that she couldn’t afford doing this all the time so he offered to pay for the cat-sitter from now on

He did that once.

And then never again.

Shelby has said all this because Wilbur is dangerous.

He was willing to lie.

He was willing to do harm to the someone he claimed to love more than anyone he had ever loved.

Wilbur’s actions escalated slowly over time and Shelby wont be the last person that he hurts.

This all happened almost 2 years ago.

Please note that this is everything I’ve gather from watching the vod. If I missed something, just add it on in a reblog. If you still support this disgusting excuse of a human being after knowing that he did this, you are a bad person.

Always listen to the victim

#Wilbur soot #shubble #Shelby #lovejoy #dsmp fandom #dsmp #technoblade #tommyinnit #dream #philza #ranboo #tubbo #wilbur soot abuse #listen to the victims #tw abuse #mcyt community #dsmp community

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nvoirs · 1 year

Note

Leon taking the fem reader’s virginty for the first time, but he is an experienced gentleman and the reader is a sweet girl who has been corrupted by the likes of this man. 👀👀

Can you include Praise and body worship please?

I'm so sorry this to so long, I hope you like it <3 Also I apologise if my writing font and style keeps changing I'm just trying to figure out what works best for me.

Leon was every woman's dream man. He had the looks, the charm, the personality you name it. His witty, flirty nature made the ladies giggle and swoon for a matter of fact. So although it had been a good six months since you and him started dating you still questioned yourself as to why he chose you? You were a boring plain Jane, not some glamorous Marilyn Monroe that swept Leon off his feet.

Six months and only kisses remained. Don’t be wronged though, the kisses could be very heated and you loved it. You craved more though, you wanted Leon to touch you lower and lower until-

Snapping out of your trance when you saw Leon himself crouched in front of your hunched over form on the couch.

“Hey, are you good? Looked like you were hypnotised.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, doing fine.” You sighed.

He raised an eyebrow, a quizzical look that basically said you seriously lying to my face?

“Tell me what’s up, promise I won’t laugh.”

To be honest Leon was also getting distracted, not by daily stresses but by yourself. That low cut top you wore was just a little too low, and your lips looked nice and soft, plump and coated in a sparkly peach pink gloss. It took all of his willpower not to take you right then and there. He was aware you still suppressed your virginity, and he did not want to rush you into things you may possibly regret.

“Okay.. Leon, I want to take it to the next stage with you.”

No way did you mean what he thought you meant..

“Yes, I mean sex.” The pinkish blush evident on your cheeks slowly crept up as you squeezed your hands together waiting for an answer head hung low.

“If that’s what my girl wants, I’m going to give it to her.”

Taking your hands in his he guided you to your own bed, slowly pushing you into the soft, foamy mattress. His lips mushing with yours as he sloppily kissed you trying his ever so hardest not to quicken things. He wanted your first time to be special, gosh he was so lucky knowing he was your first.

You bit your lips as you watched from below him, a string of saliva following as Leon broke the kiss. He could taste the peach flavour of your lips, pulling off his t-shirt his naked torso on display for you to gawk at. His incredible build had you in a trance, the way his muscles and biceps flexed deliciously when he leaned back down onto the bed.

“Gonna make you feel so good baby, you hear me? Now lift your legs.”

You complied to his soft request, lifting your legs and hips so he could shimmy of your pj shorts. The cold air hit your thighs but was enveloped in a warmish, wet feeling. His tongue. Leon moved his head towards the apex of your thighs beginning to gently kiss them before moving to the inner thigh. He looked at you before diving down to place a flurry of ticklish open mouthed kisses before sinking his teeth into one thigh.

You jolted at the sudden change in demeanour it felt surprisingly good sending a shock straight to your now throbbing core. His nose nuzzled against the cotton of your underwear, right on the soiled part that had been stained by your arousal oozing itself out of your sensitive cunt.

“Smells s'good, can I take this off for you sweetheart?” The string of desperate whines were all Leon needed to know that yes you did want it. Taking his sweet time pulling down your panties completely off and staring at your glistening treasure. So wet and aroused just for him he couldn't wait to dig in.

“Baby this all for me, hm?” Bringing his ring finger to your wet folds flicking upwards to get a little moan out of you, your hips bucking into the air.

“I'm gonna put a finger in, gonna make you feel real good you hear me?” Your furious nodding made Leon's arrogance grow, coating his fingers in your sticky slick he rubbed at your entrance.

“Please Leon, put it inside.”

“It'll hurt angel, but I promise It's gonna pass real soon.” Before you could respond he'd eased his thick, long fingers into your tight, wet hole making you cry aloud. Gripping his free arm, squeezing it as he began to slowly thrust his fingers inside of you. The pain began, but ended just as Leon had mentioned it would. Pleasure clouded your thoughts, you'd been missing out if this is what it felt like to be fingered. But maybe it was just Leon and his skilled fingers.

His pace never faltered, wanting you to reach your first proper orgasm with him; he added a second finger stretching you out invitingly for when the time came. Broken whines and gasps left your dry throat, pressure building in your stomach you couldn't speak your words lodged in your throat as you came all over Leon's fingers.

“That's right baby all over my fingers, gonna lick it all up f'ya.”

Slowly pulling out, Leon had a sly smirk painted across his angelic features. If you were this loud with only his fingers, how would you react to his cock? Well guess he'd find out very soon. Bringing his fingers to his pinkish lips he licked them teasingly, looking at your blanked out expression.

“Are you ready for the real deal, my angel?”

“Yeah Leon please, want your cock inside me.”

Oh so straightforward you were, it's one of the things that Leon absolutely adored about yourself. He had no idea how you were still a virgin, but maybe you did believe in destiny and waited for him. His low growl felt possessive, pushing you back into the plush pillows he unbuttoned your low cut pyjama top before chucking it aside. Just as he had suspected from earlier you were wearing no bra. He chuckled, grabbing both your breasts and kneading them between his fingers. Thumb pads dancing over your hardened nipples, grazing them teasingly before latching his sweet mouth onto one. Your mewls made him weak to the knee, his excitement grew in his pants wanting to desperately be inside of you just as much as you wanted it.

Sliding his pants and briefs of his meaty thighs, Leon advanced towards you again spreading your legs forcefully before leaning down into your ear. “M’gonna make you feel so, so good you look so pretty like this baby.”

“Please Leon.” Your gentle request made Leon’s heart flutter, he really just couldn’t get enough. It felt so intimate, you trusted him and he wanted to prove to you that he was the only one for you.

Grabbing himself and positioning at your tight entrance he pushed in, the acoustic melody you made somewhat between a cry and a moan made Leon soften as he allowed you to adjust to him.

Crystalline tears filled your eyes from the pain of your boyfriend stretching you out and making a home of you nestled deep inside. Sniffling you managed to speak up, tapping the blonde's shoulder. “Can move now Leon- please.” Obeying Leon began to slowly thrust into your guts making your shaky breathing louder, the air felt stifling hot and you didn’t know where to look as you locked eyes with his pale blue ones.

“Aw my baby, shh It’s okay now why’re you crying my darling? Did It hurt you a lot? I’m so sorry my love, do you need anything?” Leon’s million questions floated right past your mushy brain, but you requested one thing.

“I want you fuck-” You whimpered as he sped up hitting a particularly treasured spot of yours but you continued your sentence. “To be closer ha- to me please!”

Leon closed the distance between your sweaty bodies, his chest pressed against your boobs, his hold on your thighs tightening as he ploughed your guts out. “S’ pretty, so gorgeous I love you so much.” He was met with an a Capella of mewls before he felt you cumming around his cock, your fucked out face blanking out while coming down from your high.

“Come on baby one more for meh, can’t let you off. It's your first time you need at least two, trust me.” And before you could even respond he was already overstimulating your insides, your fingers curled in his honey coloured hair. His face buried between your tits, you could smell his hair that lavender shampoo he always used, he smelled so damn good you had your eyes fluttering shut.

“Cum with me baby, I know you can c’mon please, please?” Leon’s guttural groan had you cumming for a second time tonight, you felt his warm, thick cum drip inside of you pulling out and collapsing on the bed. Leon caressed your shoulder lightly kissing the small freckle you had there.

“Thank you Leon, I love you no one can change that I pinkie swear on it.” You stuck out your finger cutely.

Just as he had thought, such an unpredictable and straightforward little thing, but he stuck out his pinkie all the same.

#leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #re2 leon smut #re2 leon #re4 leon smut #re4 leon #re6 leon smut #re6 leon #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #reader insert

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wintersoldiersoul · 6 months

Note

Reader comes back from a mission with Natasha really sick. Bucky steps up and takes care of the reader. They don’t want to get Bucky sick, but he’s literally not worried about it because, ya know, super soldier. So he’s able to take care of them and stay with them and cuddle.

Bucky was sat on the couch with a book, trying to pass the time until you got home. You had been gone for 4 days on a mission with Natasha and while it was pretty low stakes, he was still holding his breath until you got home. He missed you terribly, especially since he didn’t have any missions or any real work to do while you were gone. He just tried to fill each day as best as he could until his doll returned home safe and sound.

He smiled when he heard his phone ring, expecting it to be you for your daily phone call that you made whenever you got a minute. But it wasn’t you. It was Natasha.

“Nat?” He asked, answering. “Is everything okay?”

He heard the redhead sigh on the other end. “Yeah, we’re okay. We’re gonna be home in an hour or so, but just wanted to give you a heads up, Y/N is pretty sick.” He went on alert. Whenever you were sick, even if it was just a small cold, Bucky went into full nurse mode, waiting on you hand and foot. He hated seeing you in any sort of pain or discomfort even if it was just an inevitable part of being a human. “Is she okay?”

“Um,” she hesitated. In the background, Bucky could hear you groaning. “She will be. I may need some help when we get here, though.”

“Okay. I’ll be ready.”

Bucky spent the next hour preparing things for you. He made a big pot of soup, put on the tea kettle, changed the sheets on the bed so that they were fresh and clean for you. He laid out clothes and gathered every type of medicine he could find. When he heard the roar of the jet, he headed up to the roof ready to do whatever he had to help you.

Natasha stepped off the jet, greeting him with a smile. “She’s still in there,” she explained. “I don’t know if she can walk on her own.”

Bucky nodded and headed into the jet. You were curled up with your eyes closed. Your face was flushed and you were shivering. Bucky approached you like you were a small, scared animal. “Baby?” he whispered, sitting down next to you and stroking your hair.

“Hmmm,” you mumbled. He could tell you had a fever and you were definitely out of it.

“Can I take you inside? Get you to bed?”

You opened your eyes. “N-no,” you said through chattering teeth. “D-don’t wanna get you s-sick.”

Bucky smiled gently. “Honey, I can’t get sick, remember?” Usually whenever you were sick, you didn’t worry about passing it on to Bucky. You knew his supersoldier immune system prevented him from catching anything you had. The fact that you didn’t remember that right now told Bucky just how out of it you were.

“Oh.”

“Come here, baby,” Bucky said, scooping you into his arms as gently as possible. You were like dead weight, barely able to keep your head up. “Thanks, Nat,” he said once he’d gotten you off the jet. “I got it from here.”

He set you down on the bed, trying to keep you from falling asleep. He knew you needed to rest but you were still in your uniform, covered in dirt and grime from the mission. “What hurts, darlin’?”

You groaned, letting your head fall on his shoulder. “Everything. Head, throat, stomach. My whole body aches. Feel dizzy.”

“Can I run a bath for you? You’ll feel a little better if you’re clean.” Your only response was another groan and Bucky laughed. “Alright, stay here. I’m gonna run you a bath, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You fell asleep in the span of time between Bucky running the bath and coming to get you. He hated to wake you up but he had to get you clean of the mission that was clinging to your skin. He shook your shoulder gently, once again scooping you up and carrying you to the bathroom. He sat you down on the toilet and helped you get undressed before doing so himself. He had to remember to thank Stark for the giant bathtub.

He got you into the bath and wrapped his arms around you so that your back was leaning against his chest. Lovingly, he ran his hands up and down your arms. “Baby how long have you been feeling sick for?”

“I dunno,” you mumbled. “Couple days?”

His eyes widened. “What? Why didn’t you come home? You know any of us could have stepped in on this one and taken your place.”

“Didn’t wanna be a disappointment,” you murmured. Bucky’s heart broke for you. You were such an overachiever, such a people pleaser. You constantly put the needs and wants of everyone else in front of your own. You never wanted to let anyone down, even if it was at the cost of your own health. “M sorry,” you continued.

“Shhh, it's okay. I just worry about you. You’re gonna kill yourself one day trying to keep everyone happy.”

“Can’t help it,” you said with your eyes closed.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay? Let’s just get you clean and into bed right now.” He spent the next 20 minutes washing your body and hair, taking his time to massage your scalp the way you loved. He spread the conditioner over your ends, letting it sit for a few minutes the way you taught him. By the time he was done, you had fallen asleep.

Bucky picked you up and got you dressed in one of his sweatshirts and your favorite pair of sweatpants. Your eyes fluttered open as he set you down in the bed. “Bucky, no. You’re gonna get sick!” You repeated your concern from earlier, worrying him by just how out of it you truly were.

“No, I’m not, honey,” he said, moving your hair out of your face. “Can you open your mouth for me, sweetie? I’m just gonna take your temperature.”

He looked at the thermometer with concern after it beeped. “You’ve definitely got a bad fever, babe. Your temp is 103.7.” He put his metal hand on the back of your neck, knowing the cold would feel good on your burning skin.

You hummed at the feeling, the vibranium sending waves of relief over your skin. “Wanna sleep.”

Bucky smiled at you. “You can sleep, baby. Can I hold you?”

“No, you’ll get sick!” You repeated for the third time.

“Baby, I won’t get sick. That I can guarantee, okay? Can you do me a favor and remember that I won’t get sick?”

You nodded and curled up against him, resting your head on his chest. His strong arms wrapped around you, stroking your shoulder gently. “I love you, Princess. Get some rest, okay?”

“Love you,” you said into his neck before drifting off into a deep sleep.

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pupkashi · 8 months

Text

scrapbooks

satoru doesn’t get the point of scrapbooks, until he does

a/n: hi hi ! wrote this silly little thing on a whim, i hope u guys like it !! plz let me know what y’all think :3

wordcount: 1,013

masterlist

satoru claims he’s not a sentimental person.

what’s so great about life that you’d want to be reminded of daily tasks?

he never kept receipts, he never took pictures, never kept any souvenirs. saturo was simply not a nostalgic or sentimental person

you were the most sentimental person he’d ever met.

every outing he’d ever seen you at you were talking selfies with friends, stuffing receipts in your pockets and any other little things. he still recalls the look on your face when he caught you shoving a small flower into your bag, ‘it’s for my scrapbook’ you had explained, smiling up at him nervously.

life is so fleeting, why wouldn’t you want to remember every passing moment with those you love and care for?

anytime the two of you left tokyo for missions together, he always ended up in a gift shop, him trailing you as you bought souvenirs for the others, getting yourself a postcard to write on, documenting the day and placing it in a box in your room.

satoru wasn’t sentimental, until he found himself falling in love.

he found himself pulling his phone out a bit more often, “pose guys!” he grinned, the camera already flashing as his friends laughter echoed in his ears, your giggles making his smile grow even wider.

after the two of you went to watch a movie together, he caught himself putting the ticket stub gently behind his black card in his wallet. the polaroid picture of the two of you from last month staring him in the face anytime he opened his wallet.

he has a pressed rose petal nestled in the pages of his brand new scrapbook, a reminder of the day he asked you to be his.

you didn’t catch onto his antics until after one of your dates, satoru reaching for the receipt before you could.

“oh! can i keep it?” you giggled, “I wanna put in my scrapbook rather than you just throwing it out.” satoru’s ears burning red as he held the receipt.

in the two seconds he stared at the receipt his mind raced. what should he say? ‘no i wanna keep this to remember this date years to come’ or maybe ‘yeah sure.’ does he play it cool? should he keep his newfound nostalgic side a secret?

“i wasn’t gonna throw it out” he smiled sheepishly, “i started uh keeping stuff.”

“really?”

“really” he laughs, smiling at you when your mouth hangs open a bit. “is it so hard to believe that i would have a scrapbook of my own?” he pouts.

“you have a scrapbook?” you grin, eyes widening. satoru’s blush only grew deeper, lips pouting a bit as he turned to look to the side.

“i mean yeah it’s not anything crazy” he mumbles, fiddling with the receipt in his hands, “sometimes you just wanna remember things or whatever.”

you found it hard to believe that the man sat across from you was the same one who had groaned when you made him stop for souvenirs on your first mission together.

“did you replace my satoru? should i be concerned right now?” you tease, narrowing your eyes at him.

satoru can only roll his eyes, stuffing the receipt into his pocket before standing up and holding his hand out for you.

“so I’m your satoru now?” he smiles, the bright red reducing itself to a tinge of pink as he teases you, his usual cockiness returning with the glint in his eyes.

“we are dating aren’t we?” you quipped, eyes narrowing at him as the two of you walked into the warm air outside. “or are you trying to imply you aren’t mine” you pout, a dramatic sigh leaving your lips as you turn to face opposite satoru.

“cmon sweetheart you know I’m all yours” he smiles, his arm wrapping around your waist and much too easily pulling you into his chest. “no one else for me but you,” his words sincere as they settle on your ears, your heart thumping against your rib cage as you smile up at him.

satoru wishes he could capture the look in your eyes, the glimmer of galaxies that he could spend hours on end exploring. he wishes he could have this moment engraved into his heart and never forget even a second of the day.

but then again, he thinks that anytime he’s around you. he wishes he could keep photos of everytime you smile, he wishes he could record every second of your laughter and tattoo the way you smile up at him when he flusters you.

life with you moved quickly in the best ways possible, he found the moments around you too fleeting for his liking.

satoru found himself taking pictures and videos anytime the two of you were out or together, a whole album full of you and whatever the two of you were doing. his scrapbook is slowly filling up with receipts, letters, flower petals, and everything that makes up your relationship.

and it’s as he’s snapping a picture of you reading, in the comfort of your shared home that he finally understands.

love is what makes life so great.

you are what makes life so amazing. you make him want to remember every second of everyday. you make him want to recall the dozens of times the two of you stood at the kitchen sink, washing and drying dishes. you made him want to cherish the normalcy of everyday life and fleeting moments.

satoru gojo is sentimental.

and he’s reminded of that with every picture he takes of his students, friends and his lover. he’s reminded of the fact when he stuffs receipts into his pockets and souvenirs into the shopping cart.

more importantly, he’s reminded of that when he’s looking at you, like you hung the moon and painted the sky full of stars. he’s trying his best to memorize your every feature, the shape and tint of your lips and the hue of your eyes.

satoru gojo was in love, and it made him want to remember every second of everyday.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @orihimeii

#not proof read we die like men #let me know what u think plzplzplz #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru drabble #gojo x reader #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru one shot #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo drabble #satoru gojo one shot #satoru gojo fanfic

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yournowheregirl · 1 year

Text

Eddie used to be a pretty fearless person.

He ran red lights almost on the daily, provoked his bullies while his bruises from the last run-in were still healing and agreed to shady drug deals in the dead of night.

Having a kid changed all that.

As soon as Hayley was born, Eddie found himself riddled with anxiety every waking moment of the day. Scared to drop her, scared she’d get sick, scared she’d break something, scared that someone’d take her from the playground if he looked away for just one second. Even Wayne had to pry Hayley out of his arms when he had to go back to work and assure him that everything would be fine.

Lucky for Eddie, none of those fears ever came true. Until today.

They’d just gone through Hayley’s night time routine - reading a chapter of that Narnia book Jeff had gotten her, singing her good night song together, kissing her forehead and sharing I love you's - and Eddie’s about to close her bedroom door when Hayley’s squeaky voice suddenly speaks up.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, sweet pea?”

“I wanna join the soccer team.”

And just like that, with six little words, one of Eddie’s personal horrors suddenly becomes a reality.

His daughter is a jock.

“Uh, let’s… let’s talk about that in the morning, okay? Sleep tight!” Eddie says quickly and closes the door behind him.

As soon as he knows Hayley’s fast asleep, he dials one of the two numbers he knows by heart.

“Hello?"

“What have you done to my daughter?” Eddie seethes.

“Well, hi to you too, Eddie.” Chrissy says on the other side of the line. “What’s up?”

“Hayley wants to join the soccer team and it’s all your fault, Chris!” Eddie is pacing up and down his living room now, trying to calm himself down without reaching for his cigarettes - he quit when Hayley was born and this is not going to be the reason that’ll end his seven year streak.

“And how is that my fault, exactly?”

“You- you have poisoned her mind with your jock ways! Hayley isn’t a jock! She likes dragons and castles and fantasy worlds, as is her right as my daughter. I mean, her middle name is Arwen for fuck’s sake, being a nerd is in her goddamn DNA!”

“Okay, Eddie, breathe.” Chrissy says calmly. “Hayley’s always been a curious kid, it’s in her nature. She always wants to try new things and then move on to the next big thing. Remember how she wanted to become a drummer after she saw Gareth play? And then she abandoned the drum kit after two weeks?”

“Right.”

“Maybe this is just another phase, maybe she overheard some classmates and wanted to join in on the fun.” Chrissy says. “Just take her to try outs and see what happens, there’s always a chance she doesn’t like it.”

Eddie lets himself fall onto the couch. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in defeat. “Fuck, you’re right.”

“I’m always right, Eddie, how have you not learned this yet?” Chrissy giggles.

Which is how Eddie finds himself waking up at the crack of dawn that next Saturday. Well, he was supposed to sleep in for another thirty minutes or so but Hayley was so excited about try-outs that her high pitched screams and jumping on his bed woke him up regardless.

Hayley’s excitement carries on during breakfast and she barely keeps still as Eddie braids her hair. She’s even dead serious about the color of her hair ties, saying that they have to match the colors of the soccer team (aptly named the Purple Cobras, so obviously the hair ties have to be purple as well).

And any other morning, Eddie is trailing behind his daughter, making sure she hurries up so they’ll get to school on time, but not today. Now, she’s already got her coat on and bouncing from one foot to another in the hallway and calling him out instead.

“Dad, come on!” Hayley whines. “We’re gonna be late.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Eddie huffs as he puts on his trusty leather jacket - if he’s gonna freeze his balls off by being outside all morning, at least he’s gonna do it in style. He can’t help but laugh at Hayley, who’s now jumping up and down from excitement. “Geez, you better save some energy for the try-outs.”

“Can we go now?” Hayley sighs and scrunches her nose in annoyance and yeah, she really is his kid.

“One ride in the Munson Mobile, coming right up!”

Hayley doesn’t shut up about the intricacies of soccer the entire drive to the local soccer club, apparently Chrissy (the traitor) had helped her read up on the rules and now obviously Eddie had to know all about them as well.

Half of what Hayley’s saying flies over his head, partly because he’s never really cared for sports but mostly because he can feel his anxiety growing with every passing second.

What if Hayley gets injured? What if some tackles her and she breaks her leg? Or worse?

What if she is an amazing player and she needs all these fancy soccer supplies and training clinics and Eddie’s forced to get another job to just to keep them afloat?

What if she’s weak at sports, just like Eddie was while growing up, and all the other kids will make fun of her and laugh behind her back?

What if-

“Dad, look, we’re here!”

The van barely comes to a screeching halt and Hayley’s already halfway out the door when Eddie grabs her by the collar and pulls her back into her seat. This obviously annoys Hayley, judging by the furious look on her face. If Eddie was a weaker man, he would’ve cowered in fear, but he invented that look so he barely feels a thing.

“Sweet pea, listen to your dear old dad for a minute, alright?” Eddie says softly. “I know you really wanna be on the soccer team but it’s still okay if you don’t make the team, you know that right? I won’t love you any less if you don’t make it or you don’t like it, just try your best, okay?”

Hayley’s face turns serious, as if the words are slowly sinking in. “Okay.”

“Pinky promise?” Eddie asks, holding out his pinky finger. Within a split second, Hayley’s tiny finger links around him and she sends him a toothy smile.

“Pinky promise.”

“C’mon, let’s kick these kids’ butts!”

Hayley giggles. “You’re supposed to kick the ball, dad.”

“Oh, right, silly me.” Eddie grins and follows his daughter outside.

But right as his anxiety has died down, it comes flooding right back as soon as Eddie lays eyes on the soccer field. There are so many kids. So many balls being kicked at full speed, with no time to duck. So many sneering soccer moms who look at him like he’s the devil incarnate. So many dangers just waiting around the corner and Eddie just want to turn on his heel and run. Hayley’s inevitable temper tantrum be damned, at least she’ll be in one piece and-

“Hayley Arwen Munson?”

Both Eddie and Hayley whip their heads around at the same time, only to be greeted by one of the coaches and shit- Eddie’s suddenly very interested in soccer.

With a chiseled jaw, soft hazel eyes and broad shoulders, the coach looks like he belongs in a Calvin Klein ad rather than a little league soccer field. He’s wearing a wind breaker, white knee socks and bright purple shorts (that cling deliciously tight around his thighs), which shouldn’t work on him but it does and Eddie just can’t look away.

Hayley (thankfully) doesn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil and instead happily waves at Hot Coach. “Over here!”

The coach writes something on the clipboard and walks towards them, crouching down in front of Hayley. “Hi Hayley, I’m coach Steve, nice to meet you. You here to try out for the soccer team?”

“Yes!” Hayley replies brightly.

“Well good, you can say hi to coach Robin and the other girls and I’ll be there in a sec, okay?”

“Okay.” Hayley nods and turns to Eddie. “Bye dad!”

“Hold up, hold up, hold up.” Eddie says quickly, once again grabbing the back of her t-shirt to keep her from running off. He kneels down in front of her, trying to look her in the eye. “Be careful, okay, baby? And if you don’t like it you can just yell and I come and get you, no questions asked. And if your laces get loose, you can yell too, literally if anything goes wrong you can-”

“Dad…” Hayley interrupts him and puts her tiny hand onto his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Eddie laughs and ducks his head. God, this is like kindergarten all over again, when Hayley just skipped to Miss Coleman without a care in the world and Eddie was sobbing into Wayne’s shoulder as he watched her go.

“I know it will be, sweet pea.” Eddie says softly, pressing a kiss to Hayley’s forehead. She takes that as her cue to go, skipping across the field towards the gaggle of girls that surround another one of the coaches.

Eddie feels his heart burst as he sees Hayley smiling as she greets the other girls, she seems to fit right in. He sighs deeply and stands up, trying to keep his eyes on Hayley, when a voice suddenly speaks up.

“Arwen.”

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelps because shit, he totally forgot that Coach Steve was still there as well. “Yeah, she’s named Arwen. What about it?"

Eddie wants to eat his foot as soon as he utters the words. He’s always been defensive when it comes to Hayley, being a single dad who doesn’t look like your standard suburban dad next door will do that to you. But to do it in front of a cute guy like that? It makes him want to kick himself. Repeatedly.

But much to his surprise, Steve doesn’t seem to mind all that much. In fact, there’s an amused smile playing on his lips. “That’s from Lord of the Rings, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Eddie replies dumbly. He feels his walls lowering down - holy shit, this Steve guy is hot and he knows Lord of the Rings? If they weren’t around a bunch of kids right now, Eddie would’ve dropped to his knees already.

“Cute.” Steve chuckles and are Eddie’s eyes deceiving him or is Steve actually checking him out? Before he gets a chance to wrap his head around all that, Steve gestures back to the field. “Well, I gotta jet. Soccer waits for no one. See you around, Mr. Munson.”

“Ew, no. Mr. Munson is my dad.” Eddie winces, remembering all the times his neighbor growing up came by to help Wayne out and refuses to call him by his first name. “I’m Eddie.”

“Well then,” Steve smirks as he walks backwards. “see you around, Eddie.”

As Eddie tries to look like a normal human being instead of a total creep - which proves to be terribly difficult when Steve turns around and puts his ass on fully display in those damn shorts - he slowly begins to realize one thing.

Maybe Hayley’s decision to join the soccer team is the best idea she had in a long time.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #dad!eddie munson #throws this at you and runs away #LOOK I JUST THINK EDDIE WOULD BE A VERY CODDLING DAD OKAY #like that one post said #he went to wayne munson's school for coddling children #anyway.... here you go

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nexusnyx · 3 months

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who would've thought

#NightSkyChallenge: Prompt 9 — The night you make a decision. [“You told me to think about it, and I did."] [1.5k]

SUMMARY: Growing older turned out to be fun. It turned out to be lascivious, and whimsical. All Bucky ever wanted was to find someone as crazy as him, and willing to live life with some good in it. Bucky has fun.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ꒰˗꒱

“It smells good,” you announce.

The words prompt Bucky to inhale deeper than before, only to attest to the words. Inside the pot it looks good—the spices are turning the meat to a colorful red, sparkled in the green of herbs and the thickness of the sauce is as pleasing as the scents he registers. “It does,” he turns around to smile at you and catches your eyes already on him.

You support your head on your hand, elbow sitting on top of the table where your laptop is, filled with work. Every time Bucky catches the intensity in your gaze, his initial reaction is a type of nervous giddiness—he’s reluctant to say the word shy, but Bucky grew up and developed his mind in a time when women had to be brave to be as bold as you are, and the kind of eyes you give him sometimes makes him squirm.

“What?” you ask.

“Stop giving me eyes.”

You laugh at him. The audacity. “I’m only looking at you, Barnes.”

“No, no, you’re not.” He turns his attention back to the pot, feeling the tingle on his back. “See? I can feel it.”

“Feel what?”

He loves hearing your voice through laughter. “Your eyes on me.”

“Good, means your super senses and whatnot are still up to date despite the good old age.” This time he has to laugh with you. Most people in his daily life either have the utmost respect for him or fear Bucky somehow. Since day one all you do is look at him like he’s a guy—not just a guy, or any guy. Your guy, thank whatever god is looking. “Laugh all you want, I’ll look as much as I want.”

“Good.”

He turns for one more look, one that has a conversation of its own.

I like it when you look, my love,

I like looking, my love.

Preparing food turned out to be one of the parts he loved the most about routine. When Bucky started working again, everything felt different. Stranger.

Foreign.

It’s been decades since Bucky felt like a stranger in a strange land, but everything about this world made him feel that way.

All of it except for you.

When he’s cooking, you’re working.

Bucky returns from the Avenger Tower to meet you in your apartment almost every day. Casper, the doorman of your building, now opens the gates when Bucky passes with his bike and nods an “evening, Sargent!” and the words are starting to register as the beginning of what coming home feels like.

‘Evening, Sarge’ marks the start of Bucky cooking while you’re finishing up work, and you two talk about the day apart, sharing everything and updating one another on the lives of people sometimes the other one had never even met.

This evening, he saved on his phone a recipe for pasta Alfredo, and Bucky talked a lot about the trainees of agents as he prepared the sauces from scratch.

Every time he had to say important things nowadays, he felt what his therapist defined as the ‘most common aspects of anxiety’. Recognizing them made things easier not only here in his personal life—work and everything else benefited from understanding all the different layers with which his past and being deleted from existence did to him.

Bucky’s experiencing stomach tightness, the fogginess around the thoughts.

Your touches keep him grounded.

‘Grounding techniques are important, James.’

‘I just don’t see how touching grass makes a difference when I’m malfunctioning—’

‘Don’t call it that, you’re not a machine.’

‘‘Kay, when I’m frozen, and fuckin’ stuck, you’re telling me that doing stuff for my senses’s gonna help somehow?’

‘Try it. Ask for help.’

“I did it.”

“Did what?” you ask him.

Bucky serves both plates and enjoys the view of you bent over the table organizing the cutlery, and pouring wine into both of the glasses.

He needs a second before replying. “You told me to think about it, and I did it.”

There’s no need to further elaborate because there’s a direct link, Bucky discovered, in unfinished conversations between people who live together.

“You did?” you ask.

There are a few moments of silence as you two take the first sips of the wine and appreciate the food he’s cooked.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready,” your voice is only an octave above a whisper. “To listen to it.”

When you told him your job would make you move, Bucky’s mind spiraled into options long before you told him to think about it.

“Scared of what?” he asks.

You shrug. “‘m not sure.” Part of him is sure, but he keeps it to himself. You’re prone to shutting down and not finishing your thoughts if someone interrupts you. “It’s not like—we’re not breaking up. And—whether you decided to stay here in Manhattan or you’re coming to somewhere closer, we’re still us. I’m just—I never had to deal with… this before.”

‘This’ could be the decision to live together or something more—a partner to choose things with, perhaps. Even though you were in your early thirties, Bucky knew he was the first man who managed to properly keep your attention for longer than months, so he nods along, waiting for you to continue.

When he looks up to find your eyes waiting for his, Bucky pauses.

The fork stills, suspended in the path between his half-finished plate and his mouth, and Bucky’s lips part.

The way you look at him. It could tear him apart from limb to limb or sew him back together. It could put all of his dusty particles and glue them into something solid again.

“It was quite easy,” he admits. It had been. As easy as enrolling once was, a decision so simple and so factual. “Deciding to retire.”

This time it’s you who turns into stone.

Bucky’s heart pounds in his chest despite his certainty that his decision was a good thing. While your brain catches up with his words Bucky can feel the prickling in his neck, and your whisper of, “What?” is what pulls the strings on the corner of his lips.

His smile makes you come out of your stupor.

“Retirement. Not working anymore—well, I’d never lie to you and say I’ll never ever work for Fury again. I told him he could call for consults any time he’d like but since all he had to say was ‘sure thing, Barnes, if I need a tip on how to be broody or how to make a Captain America listen to me you’re the first one on my list’ I think those calls will come rarely. If ever.”

The clink of your fork dropping and your chair being pushed back is all the notice he has before Bucky has a lap full of you.

He laughs inside your hold—the hands that always cup his cheeks and thread through his now much shorter hair.

The strands of white in his hair now pull your look away from his eyes sometimes; you loved the white, as much as you loved Bucky’s everything, and that’s why it was so damn easy.

“I’m not sure what to say,” your voice trembles, so Bucky squeezes you.

“Hmm—‘thank god, it’s about damn time’?”

Making you laugh means his day was successful. “Bucky!”

“What? It’s what almost everyone said.”

“Well, I’m not everyone—”

“Clearly,” he makes a point of pushing you closer to his body, and gets some giggles in return.

“and… I—I wasn’t expecting that.” It softens him how you’re melting to the news. “I just…” your eyes pierce through his, diving deep into the blue. “Are you sure about this, James?”

James.

Bucky could say he’s as sure of this as he is of the fact he wants to hear you say his name like that at an altar.

He could say he’s as sure as he is of the fact he loves you and he’s ready to live a life, not just fight for it, but that would make you cry, and truthfully, all Bucky wants is more of your smiles and perhaps you for dessert.

“Never been more sure.”

Growing older turned out to be fun. It turned out to be lascivious, and whimsical. It meant having dinner with the person he loved, sharing good news, and then ending the night by making the neighbors hear how well he eats what is good.

All Bucky ever wanted was to find someone as crazy as him, and willing to live life with some good in it.

He found even better—he found you.

So given the teachings he’s had over the past years, he decides to do something for himself before his time as James Barnes runs out— Bucky has fun.

☆ inbox 💌 ㅤㅤㅤ☆ tip jar ♡ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ☆ masterlist ✒️

#usernexusnyx #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #nightskychallenge

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rewrittenreality · 3 months

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Sweet Cherry Pie

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 621

Warnings: A little cursing but not much at all

Summary: You are taking care of your sick boyfriend

A/n: Hi! Hello! It has definitely been a while! Life has been so incredibly busy. I wrote this while I was sick because it kept me happy and busy. I have a little something planned for Valentine's day this year! Love you all!

Dean never got sick, his immune system was steel. You, however, got sick more than him. He was used to being there to baby you when you got sick and he enjoyed it. Now, here Dean was, sick and confined to the bunker while you and Sam went about your daily routines. You stayed home with Dean in case he needed anything while Sam was out getting food for the 3 of you.

Things had been fairly slow hunt wise so you knew you could be there for Dean. He was laying on the couch letting out frequent coughs as he watched the Tv. When he went into a coughing fit, you stood up from where you were in the other room and made your way to your sick boyfriend.

“You need to sit up, Dean. Laying down makes your coughing worse.” You tell him, helping him sit up as he coughed.

“I hate being sick, it sucks! I feel like I’m gonna die! AGAIN!” Dean whined as you rubbed his back to soothe his coughing fit.

One thing about Dean on the off chance that he did get sick, he was a whiner. He acted like the world was going to end and you found that funny. You, on the other hand, somewhat enjoyed it because it meant that you could baby him for a change.

“You’re not gonna die. You have a cold.” You stated, trying to hold in a giggle.

Dean glared at you, huffing in annoyance at the truth of your words. You ignored his glare as you got up to get him a blanket and some medicine. You covered him in the blanket when you came back and tried to give him the medicine.

“I’m not taking that.” Dean huffed, turning his head away from you.

“Why not?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Because it tastes gross.” Dean said, still keeping his head turned away from you.

You grabbed his chin and pulled his head to turn back towards you. Dean glared at you again, acting like such a drama queen. His cheeks were flushed and his nose was red because of his cold. It was cute to you in a way.

“I want the cherry stuff. It tastes better.” Dean whined, trying to push your hand away.

“You want me to go all the way to the store to get different flavored cough syrup?” You asked, your eyebrow still raised in a questioning manner.

“It tastes like that sweet cherry pie you make for me! It’s better than that grape shit!” Dean argued, giving you his puppy dog eyes.

“Are you saying my pie tastes like cold medicine?” You questioned, putting your hands on your hips while giving him a look.

“No!” He tried to sit up, but started coughing. You sighed and lightly pushed him back, so he is laying down again. “I promise your pie doesn’t taste like cough syrup.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”You sighed, not even trying to hide the smile on your lips.

You laughed softly as he gave you those eyes you simply couldn’t say no to. He really did act like a big baby when he was sick. You sighed with a small smile, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead as you thought about it. You just couldn’t say no to him, not when you had the chance to take care of him for a change. Dean smiled all big at your words, proud of himself for immediately convincing you. He wouldn’t admit it, but he secretly loved when you took care of him like this. He knew that he could ask for just about anything and you’d say yes to it.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #fluff #dean winchester fluff

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courtingchaos · 11 months

Text

There’s Levels To This

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A/N: oh my god It’s the beach episode! Dip your toes in kids, the water is fine. This is for my dearest @chestylarouxx who has me yearning on the daily for beach shenanigans with one Edward Munson.

Warnings: Just sex and drinking in the sun.

18+ NSFW No Minors

To say Eddie wasn’t your friend would be wrong. At every level he was dear to you, from a simple ride to work in the mornings all the way to your petty crimes partner now that the two of you were old enough to know better.

“A fall guy.” He’d said.

“Or at least someone with better eyesight.” He’d said, this time pushing your glasses back up your nose.

“Someone that has a getaway car.” He’d said while spinning his key ring around his finger. That callused digit bounces in the corner of your vision, thick and longer than yours. Nails bitten short with grime from the shop still under them.

You’re trying to hand the store over to the night manager and Eddie’s come in early. Beelined directly for you standing behind the elevated register and leaned all cool and carefree on your counter.

“I don’t want to get involved tonight Ed. Trying to leave town tomorrow if you remember.” You mutter at him while you try to finish counting the till.

“Well duh, I’m not gonna get us caught. We need to leave at what, 9?”

“We?” You lift your head and he reaches over and pushes your glasses up again.

“Yeah, you didn’t know?” He gives you mischievous smile. “Your mom invited me. Sorry you had to find out like this.”

“What’d you do to butter her up this time?” You drop the pencil on the till log and shove your hands onto your hips.

“Nothing! I simply told her how Wayne was going on his fishing trip this week too and I was gonna be rotting around the trailer all…by…my lonesome…” He leans in, props his chin on his elbow and gives you big puppy eyes.

You haven’t fallen for those in about four years.

(This is a lie. One of many but this one is a repeat offender in your repertoire of excuses for Eddie Munson.)

“Rotting?” You jerk your hand in front of your hips. “Is that what they’re calling it now?” You grab the till and hand it over to your replacement and she gives you a nod and directs a long suffering sigh at your shadow.

“You think I wait for Wayne to leave town? Barely can wait to get home sometimes.” He grins. “Your bathroom is remarkably soundproof, did you know.”

You smack him in the chest with an old stack of magazines. “You’re a pig.”

“Yeah well what’s that make you?” He follows you to the back, management having long gotten over trying to tell him anything.

“The prize pony whose stall you keep breaking into.” You seethe at him. It’s all in good fun but he still pauses in the doorway and squints at you. He opens his mouth, plush lips forming around a word before he seems to think better of it. Runs his tongue along along his top teeth and leans again while you get your stuff together.

“Do you even have swim trunks?”

“No, that’s why we’re going to goodwill.”

“Please tell me we’re not stealing from goodwill today.” You ask when you walk past him again.

(You do this thing where you never ask him to move. He wouldn’t anyways but you always use this excuse to brush against him. You think he’s gonna complain about tits pushed into his chest? Ha.)

“God no. I wanted to break into Harrington’s pool.”

“Oh, a little B and E before we skip town?” You do a little shimmy and Eddie laughs.

“Yeah. Running away to Florida with your mom and her boyfriend. So inconspicuous.”

Eddie finds the most obnoxious pair of neon pink trunks and you run him into the ground with your teasing.

“Between your pasty ass and these, you’re gonna blind those poor panhandle girls.”

“Listen pet, they’ve never seen something like me before. I’m gonna have jaws in the fuckin’ sand.” He keeps flicking through hangers of swimsuits and misses your face exploding through 10 expressions before you hack out a sound that makes his head whip up.

“Pet?!” The disgust is thick in your tone and on your face.

(Another fake out. The day Eddie stops giving you nicknames is the day you cease finding happiness.)

“Yeah you know what, I don’t like it either. I heard it somewhere and wanted to give it a shot.” He shakes his head and grimaces and quickly yanks a hanger to hold up the worlds tiniest bikini.

“Found your suit.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“You’re slime.”

“Oh come on, you need something to wear to the beach. Unless you’re going stark because then I need to rethink my whole outfit.” He snorts and playfully tosses his suit over his shoulder onto the ground.

“I’ve already got one.”

“Aw, we didn’t even get to go shopping together!”

“Eddie?” You sigh and his head pops back up over the rack after picking up his dropped clothes. “Shut the fuck up.”

He drops you off at your house so you can finish packing and he goes to his trailer to start. You agree to be ready by 10 so it’s dark enough that Steve’s neighbors won’t call the cops.

(You spend the two hours mindlessly folding laundry and imaging all the tanned southern belles chasing after Eddie and his tattoos on white sand. When you try to pack your socks they’re shoved into tight balls and none of them match.)

“Is this even crime if Steve knows about it?”

“Steve doesn’t know when we’re going so yeah, still crime.”

The drive into Loch Nora is full of Eddie’s ‘songs about weed’ mix until you hit the neighborhood entrance and then Eddie kills the radio. He drives the speed limit and keeps the windows rolled up and slides seamlessly into the Harrington driveway like he belonged there. It isn’t long before you’re both shimmying over the fence and stripping clothes, leaving them like a trail to your crime scene. Eddie cannon balls into the deep end and you wade down the stairs slowly.

The water is hot like the air is hot, barely a difference between the wet and dry parts of you.

(The wet parts of you are definitely wetter when Eddie breaches the water. He’s got chlorine in his eyes so you get to stare longer at his curls flattening to his head. The blue light of the pool reflects off his pale skin and his tattoos come alive under moving water.)

“Oh okay good, I can still swim.” He sputters and runs his hands through his hair while he treads water. “Can’t be playing possum in front of the babes now can I?” He starts his slow paddle over to you until his feet touch the bottom and he can walk. The wet glistening on him has you clenching your hands under the water and hoping that he doesn’t see it.

(You’re good at this, the lying. To yourself and everyone else and especially to Eddie.)

“Is this the infamous bathing suit?” He flicks the zipper on your chest before miming an explosion around his head.

It’s a high necked, high cut one piece split down the front with a long black zipper. When you’d bought it you’d felt like the Babest Babe to ever Babe. Now though, with Eddie giving you an up and down glance you have some second thoughts.

Too much skin? Thigh? Ass? It’s no string bikini but it is tight and that zipper was hanging lower with every shift of your chest under the stretchy nylon.

“Gonna have to keep you in the cooler, baby.” He presses his finger into your bare shoulder and hisses. “Too hot.” He slinks backwards and falls in slow motion, arms spread outward to float.

(You notice it then and you think about it later, how he keeps his hips dipped below the water line. You won’t lie to yourself about keeping your eyes on him in the hopes you’d catch a glimpse of too tight trunks.)

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” He says to the night sky while he floats away from you.

You would if you could, but this isn’t that kind of relationship is it? Eddie is your friend, on every level imaginable.

Except that level that you don’t think about and keep locked in the basement of your imagination.

So you swim in Steve’s pool and Eddie pretends to be an alligator to try and pull you under.

He dives off the board and sits on the bottom of the pool to see how long he can hold his breath.

You sit on the edge and watch him wear himself out with laps and handstands and somersaults.

You sit and watch him glide through the pool like he was made from it.

You two get out of there without anyone noticing and he asks about the trip on the way back to your house. He asks about the drive and if your mom’s boyfriend will let him drive and what the hotel situation is like.

“Am I gonna have to share a bed with you?” He leans away from you, an overtly grossed out look shot at you. “You have those glacier feet and I’m not going to be held liable for any elbows in stomachs if they touch me.”

“You snore like a tractor.”

“But at least my feet don’t kill with their icy touch.”

Wayne drops Eddie off in the very early hours of 8 am. You can hear voices talking downstairs but then there’s heavy footsteps and then a huff and a shove of your shoulder and clammy skin pushing into your own sleep warm skin. Eddie smells like his morning cigarette and his peppermint toothpaste and for a fleeting moment you forget exactly what this is. That level you daren’t imagine is abruptly surface level and you roll back into him. Your nose smushes into his shoulder, your leg winds over his and you settle back into the pillow.

A solid few minutes of waking up and with every braincell that fires, your heart beats faster. He’s motionless like a corpse. Barely breathing judging by the little huffs against your pillow case.

“I am…so sorry.” The regret rolls off you and you shove off him to the other side of your bed, back pressed up against the wall.

“It’s okay I-“

“I was still asleep, I didn’t-“

“I shouldn’t have climbed in your bed unannounced.” He stares. You stare. The sheets between you two shift when you sit up and slide off the end of your bed to get up.

“I’m gonna uh…bathroom.” Stuttering and rubbing sleep out of your eyes you grab your pile of clothes and then sit in the bathroom for ten minutes.

(You lie the whole drive to Florida. 11 solid hours of kidding yourself, keeping a pillow shoved between yours and Eddie’s knees so your thighs won’t touch. Every pit stop you stare at him while he folds out from the back seat and think about wrapping your leg around him again.)

The motel is pink and blue and right on the water. The big arch that indicates the entrance to the beach welcomes you to Emerald Shores and while you don’t consider yourself a beach girl, it’s actually quite beautiful.

Your mom and her boyfriend have a room on the second floor and you and Eddie have been relegated to the bottom floor.

“Just call us peons and get it over with.” Eddie whispers at you from the corner of his mouth and you laugh before The Boyfriend can turn back around with your room keys.

Eddie spends all of ten minutes in the room before he just disappears while you’re in the shower. He comes back an hour later with a handful of shells and a pizza.

“What a resourceful Indiana raccoon you are.”

“Yes, and if I didn’t forage for us, who would?” He tosses the box on the bed next to your legs and you don’t miss his lingering stare on your calves. He covers it with a nod and a joke.

“You better wear socks tonight. I’ve already got the A/C set to 65, I don’t need you putting me on ice too.”

(You withhold the truth from Eddie the next morning by not waking him when you wake at 6 AM and find him latched around your middle.)

Eddie rents a spot with two chairs and an umbrella and he gets to talk to every girl walking the shore that afternoon. You’ve been alternating between PBR’s and waters and now to avoid the dark cloud trying to damped your mood you ratchet the chair back and scoot out from under the umbrella to take a nap. Eddie asks about 100 times if you remembered sunscreen and you tell him 101 times that yes you did and no you don’t need him to reapply it for you.

(Yes you do! If you’d stop being insane for two seconds you could have his hands on your back and over your shoulders and up along the high cut of your hip and maybe he’d dip those musicians fingers behind your convenient zipper and-)

“You might want to pull your zipper up then.”

You peak one eye open to stare down at your chest. From this angle your don’t have cleavage so much as a valley but the zipper on your suit has popped down a few more teeth and Eddie seems to have noticed.

“I just don’t want you burning is all.” He sniffs. You roll your head to look at him and catch his quick shift of attention away from you.

In your light napping you hear a few voices asking Eddie where he’s from and if his tattoos hurt. One girl says she loves his hair, “especially tied back like that, so cute.”

Another girl asks about his girlfriend.

“Oh her?”

You imagine he points over his shoulder at you with a big thumb.

“Yeah. You sure she doesn’t mind you talking to me?”

You’d love to sit up and point out that you’re awake and also that she walked up to him but Eddie beats you to it.

“Oh this is all a cover. She’s actually scoping out this beach.” He gets a conspiratorial lilt to his voice and you imagine he’s leaning forward and turning on his Munson Charm.

“For what?” Mystery girl number 10 asks.

“She’s an international jewel thief and she’s heard there’s some real old money around here.”

You snort and alert them that you are, in fact, listening.

“Wait, seriously?” Suddenly this girl sounds wary. She makes up an excuse and scampers off down the beach back to her tan friends.

“Swing and a miss, Munster.”

“No. I made you laugh didn’t I?”

If Eddie has to watch that zipper unzip another zip he’s also going to unzip all of his zips.

It’s hot, and he and his brain have been baking under the sun but he refuses to leave. With you laid out in that fucking bathing suit he can’t miss a single moment of you in it. He’s on his…sixth, maybe eighth beer and his looks get longer with every empty in the cooler. He can make out the tan line on your hip when you roll over and he almost inhales the last of his drink because you’re all legs and ass. He can’t wait for later when you’ll be laid out after your shower, shorts hitched up from you sliding down the comforter and he’ll be able to catch a glimpse of that darkening line along your butt.

“Fucking hell…”

“You wanna head back in?”

(He does. He really does. He’ll carry the cooler and his towel in front of himself to hide his eagerness. He’ll carry your shit too just to watch you walk unencumbered in front of him, leading the way back to the air conditioned heaven and your thin pajamas.)

Three days in, two left to go and Eddie has decided he’s done lying to himself. He watches you every afternoon out in the sun in your bathing suit or the worlds shortest shorts and the most cropped band tees that he thinks might have been his at some point. He watches you run and roll over sand and wade cautiously into the ocean. There’s this part of your stomach he’s positive he’s never seen before and he watches very closely for the soft roll of it to peak out from under your shirts.

(He’s wanted to sink his teeth into you for a while but this new body part makes his teeth hurt. He drools after your thighs and dreams of digging his fingers into the soft dough of your ass. He imagines while he watches you stretched out on your towel that you’d be so soft in all those hidden places and he imagines so long he lets his beer go hot in the sand.)

He walks to cheap little gas stations over hot asphalt and hotter sand to get beer with you. He’d worry you two were going a little hard in the paint but it’s Florida where it’s practically state law that you drink shitty beer by the 12 pack, daily, if your staying on the beach front.

He follows you around like a loyal hound and acts like a guard dog when these fucking dudes start sniffing around you. Tall and tan and smelling like sunscreen and ocean. Eddie walks close behind, your constant second shadow and these fucking dudes get the hint when he glowers at them.

“I don’t think Floridians take too kindly to us midlanders.” You chew on a fry thoughtfully, knee hugged to your chest.

“What do you mean?” Eddie is finally drinking water after two days and a midnight migraine reminded him why you can’t just exist off of piss water beer.

“That girl the other day didn’t think you were funny which, come on.” You roll your eyes and say it like it’s so obvious how funny he his and he’s instantly convinced he could chuckle his way into your cutoffs. “And these dudes, they practically cross the street when we walk down the same sidewalk.”

Eddie just hums at you and finishes his water. He watches you wipe your fingers on your rapidly darkening thigh and he wants to lick the salt and sunscreen off your skin.

You find this little seafood place for dinner and Eddie is surprised he even sees your mom and her boyfriend show up. They’re not unwelcome but he’s sure they haven’t left their room since they arrived.

He has to put real shoes on which throws him for a loop but it’s not fancy. Neither of you are that, especially after almost four days of bumming it at the beach and being mildly drunk for most of it. He’s still watching everything you do, convinced and baptized in the Florida sun and sand that he can tell you his truth finally.

He waits for a break in your conversation with your mom to tap his index finger on your knee. “Can we go to the gas station before we head back?”

“Of course. Need more beer?” You nod as you ask. “I don’t know if we’ve had our daily allotment.”

He laughs through his nose and when you turn back to answer your moms question his stomach does a nervous flip and he doesn’t trust the shrimp on his plate anymore.

“You didn’t finish your dinner.”

“Okay mom.”

“I just wanted to know if everything was okay. You’ve been quiet today.” You stroll beside him, sandals in hand while he carries a fifth of southern comfort that he nervously bounces against his thigh.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “just taking it all in a guess?” The sunset paints the horizon in a way that is alien to the sunsets in Hawkins. “It’s pretty.” He says that to the side of your head while you look at the sky over the ocean. Even in his shorts and his chopped up tee he’s sweating but the breeze coming off the beach tells him this is all nerves and maybe he wasn’t ready to say it.

“Wanna take a walk on the beach?” You stop at one of the entrances and nod your head over, soft smile laid out on your face.

“Sure.”

The light paints both of you in a soft pink light and Eddie really needs to buy your mom something, anything to show his appreciation for the invitation. He could have missed out on this, instead probably working overtime at the auto shop and drinking sadly by himself, counting down time till you or Wayne got home.

Instead he gets to watch you walk ahead of him and lead the way to a tall fishing pier. He watches you kick the sand around and look for shells to add to your new collection.

“Can I ask you something?” You don’t turn around, just trust that the wind will blow your question to him.

“Anything.”

You only stop when you get to one of the massive pilings, turning to lean your shoulder into it above the mess of barnacles. You stare at him, raking your eyes over his body and when he’s about to open his mouth you ask him.

“Can I kiss you?”

He’s 23 and not never kissed, just never been asked. Your open look shows your sincerity, eyes shining in the waning light, lip worried at by your teeth. He wants to sooth those nerves and kiss the salt air off of you. He chuckles, a light huff through his nose.

“Yeah.”

Your eyes light up as you get closer, dropping your handful of things into the sand.

“I’ve wanted to…for a while.”

“It’s not just my laissez-faire beach attitude drawing you in?” He drops the bottle behind him.

“No.” You smile before you kiss him. Soft hands on the side of his face bring him down and in, his curtain of hair blocking out the rest of the world. His lips are plush and a little chapped when they touch yours, damp from him nervously licking them before you’d bridged the gap. His hands find homes on your waist and he doesn’t miss the small sound you make when his fingers creep up under your shirt. You hold on to his face and push up into him and for a moment, he forgets you’re both on a public beach. He lets his hands wander to those hidden places and eats up your groans that you place directly in his mouth. It’s only when he hears the distant roar of an approaching atv that he comes to. Reluctantly breaks the kiss but keeps his forehead pressed to yours.

“Can we go-“

“Yes, please.” You snatch your things off the sand and start walking back towards the motel, his hand clutched tightly in yours.

Later he’ll come out of the bathroom still shaking sand out of his hair even after his shower, to find you watching tv. Still naked but wound up in the starchy sheets, one long leg left out so he can stare.

(That’s where he’d started as soon as the door closed. Backed you right up against the bed till you fell and he followed your leg up to your knee up to your hip, kissing off the sand and the salt and your sunscreen like he promised. He calls you sweetheart and beautiful and sweet like honey and he gets to watch you preen under his words.)

“Have a good shower?” You’re soft and relaxed into the bed, biting on a nail and watching him.

“Eh, so-so.” He didn’t bother with a towel, you’ve just seen him and he intends on you seeing him more.

(He was right. He was able to laugh you right out of your shorts. Nervous giggles while he inched up your stomach, tongue tasting soft skin and dipping in along your bellybutton. Like magic you were out of your shorts and out of your top and he’d had an idea that you weren’t wearing a bra but the light v of tanned skin between your breast makes him pause all the same.)

“Water pressure no good?”

“No, I still have fucking sand everywhere.” He kneels on the bed to slowly crawl over to you.

(He likes how you watch him. He realizes when he has one pebbled nipple in his mouth that you’ve been watching him for longer than today. Your heavy gaze directed down at him while he licks and nips at thin skin. He grabs and gropes your breast and you sigh and he thinks about buying this motel and never leaving.)

“Oh I’m sorry baby.” You coo at him. He hovers over you and shakes his hair above you.

“See?” And you squeal as sand litters the pillow.

(Your noises kill him softly. He’s heard you laugh and groan and yell before but not like this. Your laugh when he kisses up your neck sounds different that before. When he slides your underwear off and wastes no time pushing his fingers into your wet heat, that groan is deep in your throat. He’s not even fully undressed before he has you undone, loudly yelling his name and clutching his arm while he abuses that spot deep inside that makes you gush over his palm.)

“What the fuck Eddie!” You slap at him to get him off but he drops his weight and pins you in place. You still smell like sunscreen and ocean and cheap beer and he swears he’ll find a way to bottle it.

“I don’t want to leave.” He says sincerely.

(He can’t leave actually because this is the room where he got to touch you. A hundred kisses before he even gets his pants off, 50 more before your hands pull him from his boxers, another dozen or so while you lazily run your hand up and down his length and one final one before he pushes into you slow. He forces himself to keep his eyes open so he can watch. Your gasping and your reaching. The way you bounce under him when grabs the headboard for leverage and soundproofing.)

“This is nice, isn’t it?” You sound sad as you card your fingers through his drying curls.

“I mean…Hawkins can be kind of nice too. If you want.” His chest is tight when he asks his non question. Drops his truth out into the open like that.

(That tight feeling isn’t new, he’s always gotten that with you. Now though the levels are all different. You’ve kissed him and made him cum hot across your belly and you keep holding on to his head like he’s something precious to be kept safe and and and-)

“Hawkins can be nice.” Simple agreement makes his heart swell. He takes a deep breath and finally relaxes into you. You shimmy around to get the blankets over both you and Eddie’s dead weight. He plays with the ends of your hair laying against the pillow, white sand flecks sparkling in the dim motel lighting and decides he’s seen enough of the beach this week.

(You don’t lie to him much anymore, just enough to keep his ego in check. If he had any idea just how deep it all went, you’d never be able to pull him off the ceiling. He’s still a pig and he’s still slime but he’s your pig and your little plastic trash can container of slime. You’d be lying if you said Eddie wasn’t your friend, but the levels got all gummed up with sand and shells and now you don’t have to lie to yourself anymore.)

((Sacrifice for the read more))

#Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson Smut #Eddie Munson Fluff #My Work #My Fic

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k1ngdom-of-thieves · 1 year

Note

Hi, I was wondering if I could request a sort of spinoff to this post? https://www.tumblr.com/k1ngdom-of-thieves/696378827069423616/hi-hii-i-like-your-blog-so-may-i-please?source=share Same prompt, but with Azul, Cater, Kalim, Jade, and Jamil?

Sure! Thank you so much for being patient

Azul, Cater, Kalim, Jade and Jamil + resting their head on reader’s lap!

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul had been so busy organizing files and signing paperwork for the cafe, that he didn’t realize how late it was getting. It was only when you walked in to his office at midnight wondering what he had been doing this whole time.

He apologized for having you stay up for him and told you to sit on one of the couches so you could still be near him. Noticing the dark circles that formed under his eyes, you tried to get him to sit with you so he could rest a little.

The entrepreneur tries to deny and continue with his work, but you wouldn’t listen to it. Eventually, he gave in, seeing how you were so adamantly telling him to relax.

At first, it just started off as him leaning on your shoulder, but it soon led to him resting his head on your lap. Usually he would never do something like this, but he looks so serene and happy with you.

“Only you could make me do this in my own office. If Jade or Floyd saw this, I’d never hear the end of it.”

Cater Diamond

Cater was coming back from an incredibly long day of classes; three tests, a science lab, and the music club after school. Needless to say, he’s exhausted.

He comes straight to you after all of it and practically throws himself into your arms. Congrats. You’ve been officially caught in the famous “Cater Capture.”

After a while of you two standing around, you asked him if he wanted to sit down. He agreed and asked if he could put his head in your lap.

He lets you play with his hair as he rambles about his day and just talk about random thoughts he had. If you keep playing with his hair, he might end up falling asleep.

“Hey, keep that up and I might just fall asleep! I’m just kidding; you know I love ya, right?

Kalim Al Asim

Kalim is, without a doubt, a very upbeat guy. He is also someone who is very found of physical touch.

Him coming to rest his head on your lap is a fairly common occurrence compared to doing it with the other guys. It usually happens when it’s just you and him hanging out somewhere.

Once, you two were stargazing when he put his head in your lap and started talking to you about the little things that happened that day. Things like funny things he saw, gifts he would like to buy you, and anything else that came up in his mind.

Sometimes if he’s really bored, he’ll take some of his accessories (like his earrings and headscarf) and try to put them on you without getting up. It usually doesn’t look that great but hey, you’re having fun!

“Okay, I think I got it now! Oh, oh no. It’s slipping off again. How about you try putting it on me this time!”

Jade Leech

Jade isn’t the type of guy to just put his head in your lap on a whim. He will, however, do it gladly if you ask him to.

He’ll take you hand and put it on his cheek while you talk to him. If you get flustered, he’ll start chuckling while he waits for you to finish what you were saying.

He will keep a conversation with you like nothing had changed. He’s talking about daily events like his head isn’t delicately placed on your lap.

This guy won’t even get up if someone were to walk into the room. He will get up if he sees that you’re uncomfortable, though.

“Hmm? No, I haven’t seen Azul. I- oh? I noticed you looked flustered, I can get up now if you’d like. Alright, I’ll see you later then.”

Jamil Viper

Jamil putting his head in your lap is something that very rarely happens. Your gonna have to ask him when there’s no one around and at night. He’ll get flustered and say no otherwise.

There’s just something special with the calm look in his eyes when it’s just the two of you alone. The slight smile he has when you two crack jokes.

If you two are fairly close, he’ll let you mess with his hair a little. Just a little, though. His hair takes forever to de-tangle.

He’ll offer to let you rest on his lap as well, as a way to repay you. Whether you take him up on that offer is up to you.

“I never thought I’d be able to relax like this. Thank you for giving me this chance.”

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst azul #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #cater diamond #twst cater #cater diamond x reader #twst kalim #kalim al asim x reader #kalim al asim #twst jade #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jamil viper x reader #twst jamil #jamil viper

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sammysficfactory · 5 months

Text

Check That

eren yeager x black!femreader

summary: sometimes when family crosses boundaries, you have to remind them of their place. my excuse to write thanksgiving clapbacks

wc: ~0.5k

tags: fluff, comedy

warnings: mentions of food

notes: happy thanksgiving if you celebrate!, school is whooping me sorry i haven’t been posting often😭, beta read, inspired by those tiktoks, mostly centered around the reader, i feel like i’m just yapping in this👎🏾, feedback is welcome

Every year. You don’t even know why you come to your grandmother’s house every thanksgiving just to deal with your hypocritical family. You wish you would’ve just gone over Eren’s family’s house instead. Your leg bounces and Eren rubs your knee comfortingly.

“Y/N, why do you sneak off on us every other holiday? We are your family, you shouldn’t avoid us like that.” An aunt not-so-secretly judges you, her southern drawl making it all the more demeaning, but this year you came prepared.

“The same reason the repo man snuck off with that busted Nissan of yours.” You reply nonchalantly, causing your boyfriend to choke on his greens before covering it up by taking a sip of his water. Quiet snickers are heard across the large rectangular table as you continue to eat.

“Still ain’t got the car back yet either.” Your mother says under her breath, but loud enough for you and Eren to hear. You smirk, trying to keep yourself from laughing. You appreciate the fact that your parents have always had your back when you needed it.

That seemed to be enough to keep your aunt quiet for a good while. You bask in the warmhearted laughs and conversation now that your shady aunt has nothing more to say. The comfort of family is beginning to melt all the stress of your daily life away. That is until your aunt Jackie’s daughter Destiny decides to chime in on the topic of marriage. She’s been giving Eren bedroom eyes the entire evening.

“So cuz, this is the first time you brought Eren over for a family dinner. Are y’all a serious thing?” She twirls her fork in the spaghetti on her plate, making doe eyes at Eren that causes him to screw his face up slightly.

“Eren and I are just as serious as your fraud charges. Thank you for your concern, can you pass the yams?” You reply, rolling your eyes and feeling annoyed all over again. Your knee bounces a bit more intensely and just like always, Eren is right there to soothe you. He rubs your knee and places a kiss on your cheek for good measure. You exhale heavily, doing your best to keep yourself in check.

A few hours later with no further incidents, you and Eren say your goodbyes and leave out the door. You get in the passenger seat and let out a heavy and exhausted sigh. Eren turns your head towards him gently, just two fingers on your jaw and chin. He places a long, soft, and loving kiss on your lips.

“You did good today, I thought we were gonna have to get it poppin’ on thanksgiving.” He jokes, resulting in a chuckle coming from you. His eyes seem to glow a little when he sees you smile, a satisfied look on his face.

“There she is, there’s my lady.” He almost coos at you, his voice is just as soothing and warm as the smile on his face before he brings you in for another kiss. The two of you pull away slowly, taking some time just to stare at each other and decompress together.

The two of you make it home with plastic bags of takeaway containers in tow, setting them on the table before separating them into what the two of you would eat on your own, and what you would share. Ultimately stuffed, you and Eren lay on the couch tangled in each other’s limbs watching Charlie Brown movies.

#sam’s masterlist #black reader #black reader insert #black!reader #fluff #eren x black reader #eren jeager x reader #eren aot #eren x black fem!reader #eren yeager #aot x you #aot eren #attack on titan #snk x reader #aot x reader #black!y/n

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matan4il · 3 months

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Daily update post:

Probably the biggest news in Israel today is how many of the hostages are already confirmed dead. The thing isn't that we didn't know some were. If you've been following my update posts, then you know that more than once, we got the news that a hostage was confirmed to have been killed, and their body held hostage in Gaza. The thing is that up until now, no one talked about the total number of dead, or the number of those with an indication (which still needs to be verified) that they might be dead. So here are the numbers, as published: out of the official number of 136 Israeli hostages in Gaza, 32 are dead bodies, with the IDF trying to determine whether at least 20 more were also killed. That means that it's confirmed there are no more than 104 living hostages abducted from Israel and held in Gaza, and potentially no more than 84.

In the wake of the Oct 7 massacre, Hamas has been self contradictory. On the one hand, they shared footage of the carnage themselves, many times live (this website is dressed as if it's Hamas', and presents some of the evidence from that day, for all the deniers). The footage and testimonies of survivors, as well as forensic evidence collected from the slain shows that civilian communities were intentionally targeted, and that women, men, kids were intentionally raped, maimed and murdered under close proximity, where no mistake about the identity of the victims could have been made. A Hamas senior has openly said that they would repeat the massacre until Israel is destroyed. All of Israel destroyed obviously harms the civilians, including the women and kids. Following the massacre, Hamas has also called for Oct 13 to be a global 'Day of Rage' where Hamas supporters were called upon to attack Israelis and Jews worldwide. They did not specify leaving women and kids out of it, and when Jews are made into targets globally, meaning way beyond Israel and its army, that obviously means civilians. Yet at the same time, Hamas has denied having targeted civilians, that if Hamas did kill them it was due to confusion, and even blamed Israel for the civilian deaths. But now, Israel has released evidence of a book of fatwas (Islamic religious decrees) found in Gaza, which exlpictly allowed the Hamas terrorists to target civilians, including women and kids. The pic on the right shows the cover of the fatwas book, with Hamas' emblem, and the left shows the relevant fatwa.

The newly elected president of Argentina is visiting Israel, to announce the moving of the Argentinian embassy to Jerusalem. I'm just gonna remind everyone that foreign embassies normally are in a country's capital, and that foreign countries don't get to choose a capital instead of a country's own people. In fact, I personally don't know of any other case where foreign nations refuse to acknowledge a country's choice of capital by keeping their embassies out of there. Originally, the refusal to recognize Jerusalem as Israel's capital happened before the war in 1967 (when the two parts of the city, torn apart by Jordan in 1948, which also ethnically cleansed East Jerusalem of Jews, were re-united), and was connected to the fact that in the 1947 UN partition plan (which wasn't legally binding, and was nullified by the Arabs' refusal to accept it, and them starting a war against Israel), Jerusalem was supposed to be an internationally governed area. In other words, this isn't the world acting on behalf of the Palestinians, it's acting on behalf of its own political and religious interests in the historical Jewish capital, and the city holiest to Judaism for over 3,000 years. Currently, Jerusalem is home to the embassies of the US, Honduras, Guatemala, Kosovo (the first Muslim country to have an embassy there), and Papua New Guinea.

And while it's not an official embassy, because it doesn't represent an actual country, the other day a symbolic one was opened in Jerusalem, the Indigenous People embassy. And to see other native people connecting with the Jews, who are native to the Land of Israel, warms my heart. The embassy may not be an official one, but it has the support of various indigenous leaders from around the world, and its opening was attended by over 100 ambassadors.

This is 42 years old Lara Tannous.

She's a Palestinian from East Jerusalem. On Jan 7, 3 Palestinian terrorists opened fire at the car she was in. Another Palestinian man who was driving along the same road, 32 years old Amar Mansour, was killed immediately. Lara was seriously wounded. She was hospitalized in Hadassah Ein Kerem, the Jerusalem medical center where she's been working as a pharmacist for the last 17 years, but succumbed to her wounds on Jan 24. She was buried in the Palestinian-ruled city of Ramallah. The three terrorists thought they were shooting at Jews. According to at least one source, they were 2 doctors and a male nurse, before choosing to take lives instead. This morning, I happened to undergo a procedure at Hadassah. Before leaving, I noticed there's a corner for the workers or their family members killed on or since Oct 7. Here's the corner dedicated to the hostages, the one to the victims of Palestinian terrorism, and one zoomed in pic, where you can see Lara's photograph a bit better:

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #resources

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norrisreads · 6 months

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Dangerous Woman 2 #CS55

PAIRING: carlos sainz x reader!, non racer carlos sainz jr x reader!

SUMMARY: being arranged married to carlos sainz, will the both of you work the marriage or will the next step be signing the divorce papers

WARNINGS: age gap, arranged married related, no smuts! tensions ofc, will be a 4 part series, inc of smau! angst, fluff (in the future?)

part 1

full masterlist

Carlos definition of a date in his mind was a normal casual dinner date, not a date where the both of you would’ve enjoyed because right now while waiting for both of your food to arrived, there was a thick air of tension surrounding both of you.

“will you explain what is going on or are we supposed to sit here in silence?” you spoke, cutting off his train of thoughts

not far from your table you could notice the presence of the trio that was peeping towards your table, it’s not a secret when they’re out there wearing the exact same thing that you last saw them in.

“i’m aware lando have told you i’ve broken up with her” nodding your head agreeing to the statement

“I’ll appreciate if i could rekindle this situation, slowly”

now, you’re laughing because why now? why rekindle after a year?

“that’s funny sainz, the last thing i’ve heard from you was that you threw away our friendship over, just because you thought this marriage would meddle in to your relationship”

“you would’ve done the same thing, y/n. you don’t understand”

What did he meant that you wouldn’t understand? what about the nights you sobbed to him about how much you’ve loved your ex, but your parents would never approve of him which led the both of you to part ways

“i would’ve done the same thing carlos, but i couldn’t. it’s different for me because i’m not the head of the family, i’m just a woman who has to listen to everything my father says. I loved him, but i couldn’t do it anymore so i truly understand carlos. I’ve never once threw away our friendship but instead you, you’re selfish and you’re unaware of it”

you expected a reply but all he gave you was a slight nod agreeing to whatever you’ve just told him

“let’s just eat, we’re here anyways, and it would be great if those trios of yours join us instead of trying to hide themselves, because it’s not working”

it’s been two weeks since then, there was an improvement in carlos attitude towards you, he would pick you up daily from your shifts, asked you out to dinner and he’s actually treating you like a wife should have been treated, which was odd but it did healed a part of your heart knowingly this is exactly the way you wanted to be treat as a wife.

“you’ve been nothing but glowing these past few days, what’s going on?” you’re currently on face-time with your best-friend, casually keeping up with each other gossips

“it’s carlos, he’s been treating me differently ever since that dinner date” setting up your phone on your table, while you’re removing your left over makeup

“well that’s great isn’t it? you guys are married so, least he could do is start treating you like a wife”

your best friend have always had a grudge towards Carlos, ever-since you’ve told her about both yours and Carlos rough past

“yeah and i guess im still getting used to it, but she’s gonna come back anytime sooner, this isn’t the first and surely would not be the last”

sighing while removing your makeup, from your phone screen you could see your best friend shrugging her shoulders agreeing with whatever you’ve just said to her

“he does that everytime, y/n. it’s all up to your choices love”

just then you heard your front doors open with voices trailing behind, “i think he’s homed, i’ll text you in a while, love you”

with that you ended the call with your best-friend and walked to your living room only to be greeted with carlos and his friends

“is there something going on today?” you were confused, you weren’t aware of the invitation of his friends over to your house

“they were just stopping by for dinner, would you like to join us?”

“It’s alright, your mom came by and brought over some food. I’ll just heat them up for you guys”

with that, carlos left the kitchen to entertain his friends

you weren’t particularly fond of his friends, other than the three who’s always around the both of you, these friends were different

you knew the friend group that he sticks by has been there for him since childhood and they’ve particularly were more fond of her rather than you.

there were many times you’d eavesdrop their conversations and those times were when you’d listen to their bad remarks about your marriage.

you knew who carlos ex girlfriend was, you’ve met her multiple times due to carlos and your family gathering that’s on-going for every year.

you’d be lying if you think she wasn’t beautiful because she is, no one knew but you’d sometimes compare the both of you because clearly she was the better looking.

your train of thoughts left your mind when you felt hands snaking around your waist

“what’s going on with that mind of yours, i’ve been calling for you to join us”

you could smell that strong perfume of his and a tint of sweetness which you for sure know it’s neither his nor yours because the perfumes you wore were always citrusy scents, and that was one sign you should have never choose to ignore

taglist ; @iissza @spngi @sainzluvrr @slut4lando

link to taglist

a/n : thank you for the support & love for dangerous woman 🥹! i’ve received multiple inboxs asking when will i post the next part, so here you go <3!

#f1 x reader #f1 fics #f1 x y/n #f1 smau #carlos sainz 55 #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz one shot

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billiethepumpkin · 7 months

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Fantasy Coming True

Kinktober 8th (Late)

Warnings: Rated X. This content is intended for those ages 18 years and older. If you are a minor, do not interact.

Contains: Female reader. Soft dom reader. Jerking off. Handjob. Pussyjob. Male ejaculation. Teasing.

Author's Note: All characters are written to be aged 18 years or older because I am an old fuck :)

It was late.

It was very late, in fact, when Denki walked through the door of the apartment that you shared. He’d been away for multiple nights, working hard to crack a case in a different city. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. He had called you every night, but it wasn’t nearly the same as being near you, touching you, holding you.. He knew how late it was. But for some reason he thought there might be a chance that you were awake, waiting for him, the way he was waiting for you.

He had let you know he was coming home today, right? Yeah, he specifically remembered the phone call. “Hey, baby!” he had said. “It’s gonna be late tonight, but I’m finally gonna get to come home.” And you were so excited! You couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the night as you did your daily chores.

But now, the apartment was dark, except for the small night lights you insisted on keeping in every room.

When the door locked shut behind him, Denki finally let all his walls down. He didn’t realize how tired his body was until he set his duffle bag down next to the door, shoulders slumping and lungs sighing heavily. He trudged to your shared bedroom, desperate just to see you.

When the bedroom door swung open, Denki saw you, the way you always slept. You were curled up under a blanket, the television flickering different colors over your body. You were breathing steadily, and Denki couldn’t help but smile as he watched you for a moment. That’s my girl, he thought.

Denki carefully took off his clothes, trying hard not to wake you up, and he slipped into his spot on the bed next to you. The sheets were cool and comforting over his body, and he sighed as he fell into his own bed.

That was when he smelled you.

It couldn’t have been long that you were asleep. Your hair was still wet from your shower. He could still smell your shampoo, the one he loved so much because it smelled like summer. Denki had missed that smell, the scent of you thoroughly coating him in love. Had you actually tried to stay up for him? Maybe you had stayed awake as long as you could, and eventually, you just gave up.

Then another thought crossed his mind.

For some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about the first time you had showered together. You had joined him in the shower after a long day of work for the both of you. You had washed his hair with your shampoo, your naked body pressed against his. You had gently kissed his neck and shoulders as you rinsed it out. Denki had thought, this must truly be paradise.

And now, he felt a warmth creep over his cheeks and ears as the memory of his own personal heaven washed over him and sprang his arousal to life. Kaminari breathed deeply as he remembered the things that came after. You, sitting on your knees in front of him. Your fist wrapped around the base of his cock. Your soft lips gliding over the shaft.

Kaminari took another glimpse at you. Your back was bare. He lifted the covers to get a better look, and he saw your bare ass cheeks. You weren’t wearing anything. Oh, god, you were trying to kill him, weren’t you? You were trying to make him so hard and so needy that he combusted, huh? Were you waiting here naked for him? Kaminari was trying desperately to put the pieces together, but he just couldn’t. He had other things to think about, his cock twitching in his boxers as he involuntarily ground against the fabric. His face grew warmer, more and more red, and he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to wait.

Denki swallowed hard. What was he supposed to do? His cock was aching just from the thought of you. There was no way that this could wait until morning. If he didn’t do something about it, he was never going to be able to sleep.

So he took his cock out and started to stroke himself. He moved slowly at first, hoping that you wouldn’t wake up. But then he had a completely different thought. What if you did wake up? He knew you wouldn’t be mad. This had happened before. You had just taken his cock in your hand for him and whispered sweet nothings in his ear until his cum dribbled over your fingertips and onto his belly.

But what would you do this time? You hadn’t seen Kaminari in days. Maybe you’d missed him enough that you’d take him in your mouth this time. Or maybe you’d just get up and let him slide into you, and maybe you’d ride him until he finished in your warm, wet little pussy.

Yeah, that’s what you would do, he thought.

Thoughts just like that swam around in his mind. He was desperate for you, for some kind of relief. Kaminari held his breath as much as possible, trying to trap his moans and sighs inside his body. His eyes pinched shut, he moved his hand faster and faster, trying to find some kind of relief for the way his body craved you. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that this wouldn’t be enough, that he was still going to be so desperate just for you.

And, as if on command, you rolled over to face him, and your hand slid up his thigh and over the base of his cock. “Hi, baby,” you cooed in his ear. You stroked him slowly, much slower than he had been stroking himself. “Missed you,” you whispered, pressing a kiss on his neck, just below his ear. Denki was so viscerally aware of every sensation you gave him. Your gorgeous body was pressed up against his. Your lips were so soft, and your breath was warm on his neck. Goddamnit, please don’t stop, he thought.

He couldn’t even respond to your sentiments. Kaminari was so in shock, so surprised that his fantasy was coming true before his very eyes. Wait a minute, he thought. You didn’t seem very sleep-driven at all. Were you awake this whole time? Just waiting for him to come home and see what he did? He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t find any words to talk to you as your hand slid over his shaft.

Smoothly, as if you hadn’t been sleeping at all, you swung a leg over him and straddled him. Denki’s cock rested against his belly as you hovered over him. “Did you miss me, too?” you asked, pressing more kisses to his cheeks, his neck, his collarbone.

“God, yes,” he finally answered, his hands rubbing over your thighs and grabbing your hips. He could feel your pussy lips gliding over his cock, but not allowing him to enter just yet. You were so wet already. How long had you been awake before you touched him? Had you been awake this entire time, feeling the bed shake and listening to him sigh?

Kaminari softly ground himself against you, feeling your slick on his member. He couldn’t help but whimper underneath you, feeling you slide over him so easily. If he could just get into the right position, he could just thrust up into you. And Denki needed it, desperately squirming to try and shove his cock into your pussy.

You started grinding against him faster, though. “I know what you want,” you said into his ear when you sped up. “But I think you can cum just like this, can’t you Denki?”

Kaminari couldn’t help but whine when you said that. He probably could. He knew he could. He could feel his balls getting tighter and tighter, his pleasure swarming his entire body. But he could smell your slick from where he laid, and every single touch just felt so fucking good. He wanted more. He needed more. Denki answered with a negative shake of the head.

“Hmm,” you hummed. “I could stop,” you threatened, slowing your movements almost to nothing. “I don’t have to make you cum,” you teased.

“No, please,” Denki said. “I just want your pussy. Please.”

You smiled, continuing to grind on his cock. You could feel his length between your pussy lips, rubbing over your clit. But you were focused on him.

“But you have my pussy, baby,” you teased, pressing yourself down onto him to put more pressure on his dick. “It’s right here. And I think it’s about to make you cum,” you said. And you were right. Denki was holding back as much as possible, but he didn’t know how long he could hold out. He needed to cum. He couldn’t stop himself anymore. No matter how badly he wanted to flip you over and fuck you until you couldn’t walk. No matter how badly he wanted to cum inside you and make the ultimate claim over your body. Kaminari was going to cum, whether he wanted to or not.

With a whimper and a moan, you could feel Denki’s cum leaking from his cock, dribbling onto his belly and being spread onto yours. “That’s it, baby,” you cooed, grinding on him to ride out his orgasm. And god it felt so good, Denki thought. Even after just a couple of days, he had been so much more pent up than he even realized.

You pressed the sweetest, gentlest kisses over Denki’s face. He couldn’t help but smile, especially when you pressed a longer kiss to his lips and laid down on his chest. “Feel better?” you asked, your warm breath grazing along his jawbone.

“Mhm,” Denki hummed, feeling sleep wash over him.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you rolled off of him. “Goodnight, baby,” you whispered.

He was already asleep.

This work was written by Abigail "Billie" Rothenberger. Please do not copy this work on Tumblr or any other platform.

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