#World's Greatest Grandma

[lillywillow]

World’s Greatest Grandma

Summary: Knitting is a passionate hobby of yours; one that Bucky finds fascinating to watch

 Written for: @buckybarnesbingo

 Words: 1077

 Square Filled: C5- Knitting

 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Gender Neutral Reader  

 Warnings: None

 Knitting was something you found very calming. A lot of people thought it was strange that you like doing something that was deemed ‘an old lady’ thing but you didn’t care. You didn’t have to please anyone else but yourself. Once a week, you would go down to the ladies as a part of your knitting group and have a nice chat while you worked on your projects. You had come a long way from doing simple squares and gone onto knit more complicated items such as sweaters, scarves and dolls. You also liked to give these items out as gifts to family and friends. When Bucky saw you knitting for the first time, he was completely fascinated. He would watch the way the yarn would go from the ball, onto the needle and weave into whatever pattern you were making.

…

 One afternoon, you were working a project when you could feel a pair of eyes on you. You knew they had to belong to Bucky as he was the only one who would stare intently at you while you were knitting.

 “Bucky,” you softly called, not taking your eyes off your row.

 Bucky jumped and became all flustered.

 “S-Sorry. Was I staring? I’ll just go…”

 “It’s okay. I was wondering if you would like to learn how to knit?” you replied, finishing up the row you were on.

 “Like you? I don’t know… I don’t think I would to all those fancy designs or anything like that plus I’m scared I’d break your sticks and…”

 “Bucky, it’s okay. It took me a long time to get to the level that I currently am. Everyone starts somewhere. Besides, I have a pair of needles that I think could handle your metal grip,” you softly smiled.

 “Well… okay…”

 You gently sat Bucky down next to you and fished out a pair of metal knitting needles out of your bag.

 “Pick one,” you instructed, showing him the different balls of yarn you had in your collection.

 Bucky looked at all the different colours. Some were just plain and one shade, others were rainbow dyed, changing and merging into each other on the string and some were bright and neon. Bucky ended up choosing a nice maroon one that had a silver thread running through it.

 “First, I’ll cast on for you, okay?” you explained.

 Bucky nodded and watched as you wound the yarn onto the first needle, slowly using the second to form what would be the base of this… whatever it was going to become.

 “There. Now to teach you how to knit…”

 Bucky listened to you and followed your instructions just the way you taught him. He was a little clumsy but that was perfectly fine for a beginner. When you thought he had gotten the hang of it, you picked up your own project and continued working on it.

 “So… What made you decide to do knitting?” Bucky asked after a while.

 “I know it sounds cliché but it’s something my nana taught me,” you replied, smiling fondly at the memory.

 Bucky listened to you as you told him stories about your grandmother and all the things she taught you. He enjoyed seeing you so relaxed and happy and the way your face lit up as you shared your memories. Bucky liked moment like this; when it was just the pair of you and nothing else going on. He became so invested, he failed to notice when he dropped a stitch but when he did, he panicked a little. Instead of chastising him, you gently took the work from him and fixed it.

 “You’re really good at that,” Bucky mumbled, admiring your work and feeling embarrassed at the same time.

 “Don’t feel bad about it, Bucky. Every beginner drops a stitch from time to time. I still do and I’ve been doing it for a long time,” you reassured him.

 Bucky felt a little better.

 “You should come to my knitting group,” you smiled.

 “Your knitting group?”

 “Yeah. It’s just a few people. We chat, knit or crochet and just have fun. I think you’d like it…”

 Bucky thought for a moment. He did want to start getting more involved in the community and going with you to this group might be a step in the right direction.

 “I think so too,” he smiled.

…

 A few days later, you went to the nearby community centre with Bucky. You smiled as you introduced him while he stood there awkwardly. The ladies of your group greeted Bucky and encouraged him to sit. After a while, Bucky started to get a little more comfortable with himself and listened to the group talk. Thet spoke about their kids and grandkids, dating, and other things going on in their lives. When he started to feel like someone was watching him, he turned to see a little old lady, whom he identified from the others as Estelle, staring at him.

 “Can I help you?” Bucky asked.

 “You two boinkin’ yet?” she bluntly quizzed. Bucky became all flustered.

 “Ma, you can’t just ask that!” Estelle’s daughter Bea scolded.

 “What? I’m 80 years old. How many more years have I got? Besides, you’ve heard the way Y/N goes on about this guy. ‘Bucky’s so handsome, he’s so charming…’ I now see those stories aren’t exaggerated,” Estelle casually shrugged.

 Now it was your turn to be mortified.

 “You… really say those things about me?” Bucky asked with a blush.

 “Well, you’re someone important in my life… and… I like you a lot,” you muttered, feeling heat flood your face.

 “You two should go on a date,” Estelle insisted.

 The pair of you looked at each other.

 “How about after this, we go out to lunch?” Bucky suggested.

 “I’d love that,” you smiled.

 The two of you got your fair share of playful teasing for the rest of the time there but you didn’t mind. After the group packed up, you and Bucky went out to eat just like you said you would. In the end, you were glad your mutual love of your favourite hobby brought you together. You still had your team members calling you a grandma, but with Bucky by your side, you felt like the world’s greatest grandma.

#buckybarnesbingo2022 #bbb2022 #bingo fill #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #friends to lovers #World's Greatest Grandma #Knitting #C5 #Old Ladies #Wool #Yarn #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel one shot #marvel fic

[antvnger]

Okay that’s a good one because I have the trophy to prove it.

Still working on learning how to knit a sweater though.

@onewingedsparrow

Sum up Scott Lang as a clickbait headline!

#ask scott lang #scott lang #ant-man #onewingedsparrow #clickbait meme #world’s greatest grandma #ant man #antman

[star-ocean-peahen]

im watching atla with my grandma and it is very much up her alley which is very cute. i think her favorite part is whenever momo does something funny because she smiles the most.

#i did have the passing thought #that maybe the show depicting chinese-inspired villages being invaded by a japanese-inspired army might be. not the greatest choice for us. #but honestly it wouldnt bother her shes a veeeeeeery tough and easygoing person #it did make me upset again at the remake though #because the original show feels like everyone else matters too #they meet so many refugees on the run and towns that are occupied and villages being menaced #the war isnt just a good backdrop for cool fights between the heroes and villains. its a blight on the lives of everyone who lives in this #world. #and the remake seems to be very much “everyone not in the main cast is an npc” (see: watching the genocide of the air nomads happen in the #first twenty minutes of the first episode) #and that feels. personal now. #bc my grandma hid from japanese soldiers. my great grandma risked her life transporting materials for explosives so she #could feed her family #they are people with personhood and individuality who didnt fight in wwii but their stories still matter #and atla feels like its validating that because it says that war affects everyone and the people who suffer from it the most are the ones #who need to have their voices heard #not just the people with the biggest capacity to cause change #so the remake throwing that away just to have more cool action scenes. leaves a bad taste in my mouth. #atla #atla remake salt #atla live action salt #atla salt

[patronsaintofposmodernity]

it's just me and mi antigua casera against the world

#she's so nice..... i love her #im aware i must be the only person in the world whose landlord isn't a complete asshole but mine is genuinely the greatest #she was my landlady for literally six months and three years later we still keep in touch and still think of each other fondly #like if i ever go back to her city im literally going to ask her to meet up with me over coffee no joke #sometimes all you need in life is an italian 80 year old grandma as your landlady #zai.ez

[thegrandharveyspecter]

Trip to a Coffee Shop; a Harvey & Scott Drabble Part Four: The Little Things

“Oh, no…no, no…”

To say Harvey Specter was mortified when he neared his office, his office that had glass walls and a glass door, and saw Scott Lang was an understatement. The last thing he expected to see was Scott in there, moving around doing who knows what.

He had to fire Donna later for letting him in.

Harvey entered his office. “Scott Lang, what are you doing in my office?”

Scott had such a big smile on his face as he turned to Harvey. “Dude, your office is huge! It’s way bigger than my room at the shop.”

“Never call me dude,” Harvey groaned. “Anyway, that doesn’t answer my question.”

“You have so many balls too. Baseballs, basketballs…” Scott moved around, picked up a baseball. “They’re all signed too. It’s so cool.”

“Hands off the ball, ant,” Harvey said. “Answer me.”

“It’s my lunch break this time, so I thought I’d come to see where you work.” Scott put the baseball down. “If you work in such luxury here, I can only imagine what your house is like.”

“Scott, go.” Harvey pointed to the door. “Get.”

“Whoa!” Scott had gone over to the shelves that had Harvey’s many vinyl records. He had one in his hands, turned to Harvey. “Gordon Specter? Your dad?”

Harvey nodded.

“Oh, this is so cool. I gotta listen to this,” Scott said, walking to Harvey’s record player. “Let’s see what Father Specter is all about.”

“Scott, stop. I save my father’s music for special occasions.”

“This is a special occasion. You have an awesome coffee shop owner in your office.” Scott placed the vinyl in and started it up. “This isn’t going to be an everyday occurrence, Harvey.”

“Thank god…” Harvey mumbled.

Scott went silent when the music started playing. Harvey crossed his arms, waited. Scott looked over at him, smiling.

“I like it.” He started tapping his foot.

“You’re saying that to stay on my good side,” Harvey said.

“No, really. I like it. What does he play?” Scott asked, curiously.

“Saxophone.”

“That’s cool. I hope I can meet him one day,” Scott said.

Harvey didn’t bother sharing the fact his father died of a heart attack a few years ago. Not when Scott was so energetic.

“Do you ever dance in here? No, don’t answer that. I know you don’t,” Scott said. “You’re way too uptight. Even if the walls and door weren’t glass, you still wouldn’t. But…”

The moment Scott gave Harvey a shit eating grin, Harvey regretted meeting Scott Lang.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t dance in here.”

“Scott, no,” Harvey groaned. “I’ll call the exterminators. Go!”

It was too late. Scott was already having the time of his life, being an annoying little shit, dancing around. Harvey was really going to fire Donna the moment Scott left.

Harvey knew he couldn’t convince Scott to stop, so he just let him do what he wanted. It looked like Donna was trying to keep people away from his office anyway. Then, abruptly, Scott stopped and moved to Harvey’s large window.

“This is a really great view too,” Scott commented. “Do you even know how lucky you are?”

“You think this is nice?”

Scott looked at Harvey, tilted his head.

XXX

“Welcome to the Pearson-Specter rooftop,” Harvey said, opening the door to the roof.

“Wow…Now this is beautiful.”

Scott moved around the rooftop, taking everything in. Harvey had been up here so many times, he was used to the beauty. He did feel a sense of ease watching Scott enjoy it, though.

“I bet the sunset looks amazing,” Scott added, moving to the edge.

“It is. I’ve seen it a few times,” Harvey said.

“You come up here often?” Scott asked, resting his arms on the rails.

“I come up when it’s night,” Harvey answered, stepping up. “Sometimes I need to relax.”

Scott nodded. “I bet being a lawyer is really stressful sometimes.”

“It can be,” Harvey agreed. “Probably not nearly as stressful as owning a coffee shop that’s hard to pay rent for. You know, because there are only two customers. Not even official ones at that.”

Scott shrugged. Harvey sighed, stared out at the sky. A comfortable silence stretched on for a while until Scott spoke up.

“Speaking of money and all that, I got a shipment of new furniture…” he trailed off, glancing at Harvey. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“How would I know anything about it? It’s your shop,” Harvey replied. “Maybe some random passerby saw the old granny furniture and thought ‘wow, this isn’t going to bring in customers. Let me help’. And then they bought some new furniture.”

Scott snorted. “You think that’s it, huh? Talk about a nice passerby. But I’m offended.”

“Offended by what?” Harvey asked.

“That you think it’s granny furniture.”

“It is granny furniture!”

“But didn’t you know? I’m the world’s greatest grandma.”

Harvey burst out laughing. Thank god he was eating or drinking something or he would’ve choked.

“What the hell?”

Scott smiled softly. “My little peanut bought me a trophy. The plaque says ‘world’s greatest grandma’.”

“Oh my god…”

“It makes me want to knit her a sweater.”

That only got Harvey laughing more. Scott joined in, then looked at Harvey with genuine surprise.

“Wow, this is the longest you’ve ever laughed and smiled,” he said, patting Harvey’s chest. “Looks like you’re finally getting intune with your emotions.”

Harvey started to settle and glared at Scott. “Know what I think? I think you should go before I throw you over the edge.”

Scott raised his hands. His smile didn’t drop though, if anything, he looked more amused. “Alright, I’m going. Mike’s probably waiting for me at the shop anyway.”

Scott turned and headed for the roof’s exit.

“See you later, Harvey.”

“Bye-bye, grandma.”

Scott laughed as he left.

#Harvey Specter #Suits #antvnger #Scott Lang #Coffee Shop Owner Scott Lang #Normal Harvey Specter #Scott being a shithead #Harvey being done lol #Scott & Harvey have a moment #Scott's the world's greatest grandma #don't insult the granny furniture! lol #drabble #coffee shop au

[og-ant-man]

The cool grandpa

If this is Cassie thank you.

If not, who are you calling grandpa? Besides, isn't Scott's nickname the world's greatest grandma? Would that make us married? No thank you.

~Give my muse a nickname~

#hank pym #nickname game #all I could think of is the world's greatest grandma thing #and how Hank would react to that haha

[metamorphicrocky]

doctor who coming back in the year of 2023 when terfism and biological essentialism and transphobia are on the rise and making one of THE most hyped up episodes by bringing back fan favorites david tennant and catherine tate. all about being trans

showing rose being bullied and her grandma struggling to get it right but still being supportive. and shaun and donna being the greatest parents by being ready to burn the world down to protect their daughter. the doctor asking for the meep's pronouns AND IT'S NORMAL???

and all of that is brilliant to see rose as a trans character and it is important to the narrative. BUT THEN. ROSE BEING TRANS SAVES DONNA'S LIFE BY TAKING HALF OF THE METACRISIS. BECAUSE THE DOCTOR IS MALE AND FEMALE AND NEITHER AND MORE. AND THAT IS INTEGRAL TO DOCTOR WHO AS A WHOLE. and it saved donna's life

to see doctor who be so BLATANTLY trans and nonbinary at the core of the series. the multiple references to the fact that before fourteen, thirteen was a woman. so to see this? trans people stay winning. thank you doctor who for doubling down on the importance of the doctor being trans because oh my god I am so emotional about this

#YES I CRIED REALLY HARD #it was so unexpected in a good way and it got a little complicated and wonky with the word usage but OUGH. it got the right point across #doctor who #dw spoilers #dw specials #doctor who spoilers #doctor who 60th anniversary #fourteenth doctor #donna noble #rose noble #shaun temple #sylvia noble #the star beast

[omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts]

It’s Been a Long, Long Time ❥

Pairing: Pre!Outbreak Joel Miller x Fem!Reader 

Summary: You’re the school nurse at Sarah’s middle school and you’re volunteered to chaperone the school dance alongside her father, Joel Miller. After some other teachers upset you there, he makes a point of showing you how he feels while also teaching those assholes a lesson. 

A/N: okay so i know i just wrote one but you guys were so sweet in the notes :) *sobbing* and im obsessed with him so another Joel Miller fic for you, this one’s more fluffy tho here’s a sweet, smutty one, inspired by that one scene in “The Lost Husband” YALL KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT, enjoy and feedback as always is appreciated >~< i cant stop writing him PREPARED TO BE SICK O’ ME

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, fluff, cheesy, just absolute fuckin fluff, mentions of death, months pre-outbreak, language, reader is insulted, slight angst, mentions of alcohol, slight age gap, reader has panic attack, public making out, jealous!reader, Joel loves his pet names, he talks you through it, oral f! receiving, p in v, praise, unprotected sex, y’all it’s a lot 

You sip on your mug full of sugary coffee and rub your temple, tired from a night of little sleep. That’s when Sarah Miller, your favorite student, patient, and professional instigator, strides through your office doors with a big smile on her face. 

You open up your snack drawer with an affectionate roll of your eyes, grab a pack of skittles, and throw it her way. 

She catches it mid-air and sits down on the bed by your door, kicking her feet while she pops only the red ones into her mouth. 

“You’re gonna get me in trouble one of these days, hun,” you breathe a laugh. 

“Don’t worry,” she sighs, still grinning. “I’m on my lunch break and I finished it fast so I could come see you.”

You smile softly behind the rim of your mug, “Well, I’m glad to see you. What is it that you’re smiling so much about?”

“Awe,” she points to your mug. “You’re using the mug I got you.”

You look at the front of the mug, the words, “World’s Greatest Grandma”, on the front of if it with the word Grandma scratched out with a wash-proof marker and replaced with “Nurse”. She claimed she couldn’t find one that said what she wanted so she had to get creative. It makes you laugh every time you pick it up. 

“It’s my most prized possession,” you nod, matching her expression. “Now answer my question.”

She leans forward, having finished off all the red skittles, and hands it back to you so you can eat the rest. 

She says it in one, hyperactive breath, “I got my dad to volunteer at the school dance!”

You choke a bit on your coffee.

Setting down the bag of skittles and your mug, you look up at her and chuckling, “Why would you want to do that? Don’t most kids want their parents far away from their homecoming?”

She shakes her head like you’re not getting what she’s saying, exasperated, “I invited him for you, Nurse y/n.”

“I- Why would you-” you let out a nervous laugh before pulling yourself together. “Sarah. Why would you invite him for me, sweetheart?”

“Because you like him,” she props her head up against the wall behind her, a sly little smirk on her lips. She crosses her legs. “Obviously.”

You sip your coffee, a small scoff leaving you, “I don’t have a crush on your father, Ms. Miller. Since when do you play matchmaker, huh?”

“Since he asks about you like all the time,” she groans. “I told him that you’re coming and he basically dropped everything to come.”

Heat blooms in your face but you clear your throat and feign nonchalance despite it. It would be incredibly unprofessional for you to have a juvenile, little crush on a student’s father. Even if he is incredibly handsome, sweet, charming, funny, and a wonderful, single father to his little girl who you also have a soft spot for. 

But you do and you’re convinced it’s a bit bigger than a little one. You don’t act on it though because you’ve kidded yourself into thinking it would go away, wither from neglect like a dying plant with no sun. However, that hasn’t worked out very well so far. 

Sarah doesn’t miss the flush in cheeks and the small smile you dawn before maintaining your composure once again. She decides to hold onto this information instead of call you out because she’s nothing if not devious. She’s very observant for a 14 year old, you’re sure she gets it from her sharp father. 

He doesn’t let anything get past him, like hair in your face that he pushes away for you, a fallen eyelash on your cheek, your shoelace undone, your ponytail getting loose and about to fall out, and whatever else. It’s been almost an entire school year of this, going on field trips, meetings, him picking Sarah up from school when she’s sick (whether she fakes it or not), and around your shared neighborhood because even if it was big in Austin, Texas, he made it feel so damn small. 

And now Sarah says this and you can’t contain your excitement. But also your nerves were shot, you haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time. It scares the hell out of you.

“I’m not volunteering,” you laugh. “Why’d you lie to him?”

“Because I’m going to convince you to come,” she raises her eyebrows. “Please, please, please, please!” she clasps her hands together. “I’ll buy you all the skittles you want, I’ll take the red ones out of all of them for you, too!”

“What if I’m busy?”

“I know you’re not.”

You gasp, “Rude, Sarah! I should write you up for that,” you tease. 

She smiles, “Come on, you can come and wear a pretty dress, drink punch, and eat free food. What’s not to like?”

“The bitchy moms and other teachers, for one thing-” you put a hand over your mouth. “I’m so sorry, Sarah. I shouldn’t have said that,” you chuckle, embarrassed, with your face in your hands.

She waves you off, “My father cusses like a sailor and I won’t tell. I don’t like anyone that works here besides you, anyway.”

“Well, now I feel like I have to,” you relent with a sigh, mulling it over. She was right in that you didn’t have anything to do, so what was the risk here?  

She looks at you expectantly, mustering up puppy dog eyes to persuade you. 

“If I go... no teasing me and your dad. He and I are just good friends,” you say, which is at least half true. “We enjoy each other’s company, nothing more.”

“Uh-huh,” she says in a sing-song, knowing voice, fingers crossed behind her back. “Sure, Nurse y/n. I promise.”

“I’m serious,” you point at her, taking the last sip of your coffee just as the class bell rings. “Now get out of here and go to math.”

She groans in protest but hops down from the table anyway and fakes being dizzy, “What if I have a fever?” She coughs. 

“Then walk it off,” you chuckle, knowing she’s lying. “See you tonight, Sarah.”

She grins widely, waving, running out, “Bye! Dad and Nurse Y/n sitting in a tree-”

“Sarah!”

~~~

Walking into the schools’ gymnasium, you’re almost shaking with nerves when you walk in. You feel like a teenager again, anxious and waiting for someone to ask you to dance. 

You slipped on a black slip dress with white trim at the ends and the sweetheart neckline, it hugs your body nicely and accentuates curves, dips, and makes your skin glow with a red sweater that hits at your waist and matches your red, strappy heels. Your hair is pulled back with barrettes to show off your makeup and fresh curls. 

The dance has already started thirty minutes ago, so everyone’s already dancing and having fun to the child-friendly music that the DJ spins for the room. You pick up a red solo cup filled with crappy fruit punch and spot Sarah in the crowd with a few of her friends. 

She waves enthusiastically in your direction before running over to you and hugging your side. “You look so pretty, Nurse Y/n!”

“Thank you, sweetheart. So do you!” you hug her back, trying the punch and wincing at the off-taste. “Tonight, you can just call me Y/n, if you want.”

She smiles, glowing at your arrival, “My dad’s over there talking to another parent. I’ll go tell him you’re here.”

You look up when she says this and meet his eyes from across the room, which means he was already looking. Joel Miller cracks a lopsided smile at you, excuses himself from his conversation with a pestering mom, and crosses the room to the two of you. 

He’s wearing a red flannel shirt, rolled up on his burly forearms, tucked into a pair of dark jeans with a black belt holding the pants up. His hair is slightly wet from a shower, you presume, and he smells of aftershave and smoke and cedar wood. He looks so good, standing in front of you with those all-encompassing brown eyes, you think you might cry. 

Those said eyes fall over you, and admire your dress, your hair, your everything. He looks down at his daughter, watching you both with avid attention. 

“Don’t you have friends to get back to, chick?” he cocks an eyebrow down at his scheming daughter. 

She rolls her eyes, smoothing out her blue dress. Her hair is braided into a bun at the back of her head, matching teal flowers pinned in her curls. “Okay, dad. Have fun!”

She races back to her group of friends and leaves you and Joel alone, two awkward adults who feel like kids again.

“You did her hair tonight?” you smile softly, gushing a bit now. “It looks so nice.”

He flushes and scratches the back of his neck, “Thank you. I tried my best, she did most of it. I just wanted tonight to be perfect for her. She forced me to come, though.”

“She got me, too,” you tilt your head, biting back a grin. “She should be a lawyer when she grows up, this kid.”

He looks out at her dancing with her friends and smiles fondly, “She would be great.” His eyes fall back down to you, “You look beautiful... by the way.”

You beam, “Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself, too, Joel.”

A blush spreads across his nose and cheeks, “Thanks. I was worried it was too simple and that I should have worn a suit... I didn’t know if it was nice enough to-”

You place your hand on his arm to stop his rambling, “You look great. Seriously. Don’t worry, all the moms and teachers will still drool over you.”

He pinches his brow when he stares down at you. You get the sudden urge to smooth out the small wrinkle between his eyebrows, ease his tensions. 

“Really?” he pins you down with his stare, but his dark eyes are glittering with amusement. “You’re way off base, sweetheart, I promise you. None of them think of me like that.”

You ignore the heat blooming in your chest at the nickname, he used it often but it never failed to make your brain short-circuit, “They all talk about you.”

He raises his eyebrows, “You’re joking.”

Jealousy swirls in your belly at the thought of these women and the things you’ve heard around school, but you pull it together with a quick tilt of your head, “I’m not laughing, am I?”

He notices your jaw clench a bit and how you gulped before speaking, logging the observations for later, “How do you notice?”

“How do you not!” you say, moving to his side and unintentionally brushing your arm against his. He shivers. “It’s obvious. It’s hard not to.”

His eyes linger on your lips before glancing back up your eyes, “Maybe I’ve been distracted.”

You grow flustered under his gaze and look ahead, stammering, “Yeah... maybe. And well... Sarah tells me that they ask her about your life in the pickup line after school. So it’s proving to be borderline obsession,” you laugh.

He smiles softly, seeing past your nerves, “Poor Sarah. She must love that,” he says dryly. 

“Sarah might say some choice words about them,” you shrug your shoulders. “She’s fine, though. I probably shouldn’t have told you, we tend to share secrets,” you look at him, filled with care for his daughter, for him.

“She adores you,” he says sincerely and you can tell by the warmth in his tone that he means it and appreciates it. “You’ve quickly become one of her favorite people within a little over half a school year. Tommy thinks you’re great too, from the few interactions you’ve had when he picks her up sometimes.”

You grin and his chest seizes at the light that exudes from your sweet expression, “Tommy’s a wonderful uncle. Good brother too. He talks about you often.”

“Oh yeah?” he looks at you, his voice sends shivers straight through you. “And what does he say?”

“Can’t betray a friend’s trust,” you shake your head, teasing. 

He discreetly shows you his flask of whiskey, “Not even if I let you drink from my emergency flask?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you one thing,” you hold up a finger and he slips you the flask, cracking a dazzling smile, while you turn around and take a long sip. The DJ transitions the E.D.M to a slow song, something sweet and best to sway to. 

He takes a long sip himself and tucks it away in his pocket again, holding out his hand to you, “Do you want to tell me while we dance, darlin?”

You look around the room, your boss nowhere in sight. There was technically no rule against dating a student’s parent, but you didn’t want the judgement. You knew the people around here talked and there would be rumors, shaming. But he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the room, putting himself out on a limb just to ask you to dance.

It didn’t have to mean anything anyway, it could just be two friends sharing a dance. You’ve danced with friends. It’s the same thing. Your internal monologue was racing a mile a minute. 

“Are we allowed to? I mean, as chaperones.”

“We’re watching the students more closely.” 

“Yeah, I just...” you pause, pinching your brow.

His face falls slightly. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to,” he starts to pull his hand away. “It’s really no-”

You put your hand in his, “I’d love to dance with you, Joel.”

Warmth blooms in his handsome face and he pulls you into the crowd of dancing people. Joel pulls you gently towards him, placing his hands on your waist as you wrap your arms up and around his neck. You both try to keep your distance, make a good example for the kids, but it’s growing increasingly harder for him not to hold you close and kiss you right here in front of all these people. 

You catch Sarah giggling excitedly at you both dancing, whispering with her friends. You roll your eyes with a small smile. 

You look up at Joel, resisting the urge to lay your head against his chest, “You still want to know something Tommy said?”

“Desperately,” he laughs. 

“He told me you said I’m pretty.”

Rosy color spreads across his nose, but his eyes are darkened, his lips part slightly, “I should’ve known he’d tell you.”

“So he’s telling the truth?”

His eyes soften, “Of course he is.”

“Well... thank you,” you flush, blood rushing to your face, making Joel smile. You feel like a schoolgirl again. 

He chuckles, eyes searching your face, “You’re welcome.”

You tilt your head, “You’re pretty, too, Joel.”

He spins you as the song picks up a bit and pulls you back to him, your dress spinning as you do. He pulls you back against his chest, hands in against shirt and his around your waist. Warmth radiates from his broad chest, his hands are calloused even through the fabric of your slip dress, and your breath catches in your throat.

He doesn’t pay any mind to the stares he gets for doing it, but he lets his head drop to your shoulder, writing love letters in your skin when he lets out a breath. He says nothing about the compliment but he’s holding you closer, and that’s all he needs to do. A quiet understanding washes over the two of you in that moment. 

Joel’s always been the strong and silent type, but the longer the two of you have known one another, the closer you get, he’s begun to let more things slip. He begins to ramble, his nerves making an appearance when he’s near you, a teenager again. Then there are times like now when his actions do all the talking for him and neither of you need to comment on it. 

Then there are others when he won’t shut the fuck up. 

“People are looking,” you whisper. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

“...No.”

“Then why do you care what they think?”

There’s a beat of silence before you sigh out the three words, “I don’t know.”

“We’re not Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey over here, the kids will be fine,” he teases. Then he lifts his head to bring your joined hands up to his side, moving you to the changed song with the more upbeat tempo. 

You snort, “Wouldn’t that be something.”

“If we were somewhere else...” he muses, looking at you to gauge your reaction.

You meet his eyes, your own crinkling with amusement, “You’d do the lift?”

He throws his head back with a thunderous laugh, “I’d try for you.”

“Think I’m too heavy?”

“God, no,” he spins the two of you, dodging a pair of kids dancing. “I’m just old.”

“You’re like 35, Joel.”

“You’re only 27, you don’t get it yet,” he whispers into the side of your hair and you laugh, not even bothering to glance in the direction of the judgmental moms and teachers. 

Joel Miller had a talent of making you feel like the only person in the room. 

The song ends and you feel out of breath just from being this close to him. You step away from him and smile softly, “I gotta run to the restroom. I’ll be back.”

His eyes sweep over you, then he nods, “Okay.”

“What?” you grin. “No dad joke about not falling in?”

“I’m classy Joel tonight,” he chuckles. “No bathroom jokes.”

You shake your head with a laugh as you walk back towards the restrooms. Stepping inside, you move to stand in front of the mirror and grab your lipstick from your bag, fixing up your makeup. You try to calm your nerves, hands shaking when you bring the golden tube to your lips. 

After taking a deep breath, your mind begins to wander about how his hands felt on your skin and how he thinks you’re pretty. The thoughts fill your head and litter your skin with goosebumps. 

You don’t usually like being the center of attention, but with Joel around you, it was hard not to be. And you couldn’t say you minded it. 

A few other women walk through the door and you recognize them to be Bethany, Sarah’s rude math teacher, Cara, a mom who gives you trouble constantly, and Kristina, another mom who thinks Joel is hot and constantly asks Sarah questions about him. 

“Hey, y/n!” Bethany draws out in a sing-song, forced way that sends a chill through your body. “Saw you out dancing with Mr. Miller. Ain’t y’all cute?”

You look at her blankly in your reflection and she clears her throat. 

“Adorable,” Cara’s shark eyes roam you over in the mirror, making you feel small as you fix your foundation. You don’t let it show though, you weren’t going to give them the satisfaction.

“Such a shame about Joel’s wife,” Kristina hums, putting on her own bright pink lipstick. “Wonder if he’s still looking for a stepmom for sweet little Sarah.” 

The three of them laugh together and you feel your blood pressure quickly rise. Three wild vultures circling a carcass, kicking it while it’s down. 

“Can we not tonight, ladies?” you turn around to look at them. “Let’s just forget this and have fun.”

“What do you mean, dear? This is fun,” Bethany blinks her stark, blue eyes, red lips curling. “This must be a lot for her though, girls. She’s probably having a rough time considering what happened to her.”

You freeze.

“Oh yeah...” Cara finishes her makeup and frowns at you. “I remember hearing your fiancee passed away before you came here, how sad.”

Your blood runs cold, sirens going off in your head, and a pounding begins in your skull. No one’s brought up Rick since you’ve gotten here, you’ve dodged the questions from the nosy parents, the gossiping neighbors, and the rude coworkers. You don’t know how they figured it out, and now you feel it, being back in the car with Rick the night that it happened. 

Joel and Sarah didn’t even know, you had pushed it to the back of your mind so you would never find it again. Now it’s coming back like a wave, full force, and pulling you under the current until you’re drowning. 

“Then you moved here to Austin in July,” Kristina slits her eyes at you and cocks her head to the side. “Now you’re trying to get back out there with Joel, huh? Like you’d really have a chance with him.” 

She looks in your direction and it’s as if she sees right through you, past your carefully created facade and into your core, that sad, broken girl with no family left and nowhere to go. 

Your eyes fill with hot tears, you want to run away, but you can’t move. You’re frozen, feet glued to the linoleum tile. 

“I knew Rick... your fiancee,” Bethany says. “He was so sweet. We went to college together.”

“So sweet,” Cara looks at you and flashes another sickly sweet smile.

You inhale sharply, tears falling down your face. You hastily wipe it away, “I... I gotta go.”

You grab your purse off the counter and rush out of the door, slamming into a hard chest and a pair of hands that fly to catch you by the waist. 

Joel stares down at you, grounding you, and your eyes begin to brim with tears, “What’s wrong, sugar? What happened?”

The words tumble out of you, wiping away the tears that slip out while you ramble on, “Nothing, I just... the women in there, they’re horrible, they hate me, and they make me feel like shit. They brought up Rick and they think you’re hot and they think we’re dating and I just wanna go. I’m just gonna go home-”

He looks over your head at three women leaving the bathroom, waving in his direction. 

Joel looks back down at you before tucking his fingers into the straps of your dress and pulling you into a searing kiss. Your inhale sharply when his soft lips meet yours, and your hands grip onto his flannel shirt, sighing into his mouth. He slips his hands up to the back of your neck, tilting your face up to kiss you more completely, unraveling you in his capable hands. 

Bethany stares at you wide eyed, getting the other girls attention, all jaws dropped in utter shock at the image before them. 

His tongue dances with yours as he moves his lips expertly, his thumb gently rubbing against your cheekbone as he coaxes your lips open. He hums small praises while tracing shapes into your skin. You let a small noise slip past you, unable to contain how good he’s making you feel, swallowing your sadness and helping you breathe again. 

He groans as he forces himself to pull away from you, struggling not to kiss you again. Forgetting you’re not alone. 

Joel’s hands slip down to rest on your shoulders, lips flushed and swollen from the kiss, voice gravelly, “I hate terrible people.”

You look at him, mouth parted, lipstick probably smudged. He licks his lips before glaring at back at the women before they scoff and walk away, muttering under their breath. 

Neither of you get the time to speak of it before Sarah is running down the hallway, after hearing the commotion. You and Joel split apart when she comes up, and she’s smiling widely. 

“Kelsey asked if I could sleepover, can I go get my stuff at the house and go to her place? Pretty please,” she begs her dad, clasping her hands together. 

He tears his eyes away from you and nods, smiling, “Yeah, that’s fine. We’ll head home and I’ll walk you there.”

Sarah grins happily before looking up at you. “Everything okay, y/n?”

You force a smile and fix a flower falling out of her hair, “Yeah, I’m good. And I think I’m ready to go, too.”

“Do you need a ride?” Joel asks. “I know you walked here cause we all live so close, but I don’t want you walkin’ home in the dark. Also Sarah’s got control of the radio on the way back,” he offers you a grin. “She’s got good taste.”

“We’re listening to 80′s hits,” Sarah nods, taking her job very seriously. 

You nod, feeling better just by being near the two of them. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

~~~

“Head Over Heels” by Tears For Fears is blaring through Joel’s truck and you’re humming under your breath while Sarah is screaming it in the backseat. Joel laughs at his daughter in the rearview mirror. 

Grieving your boyfriend’s death has been something you’ve pushed aside for a long time. You knew these women could be catty, but you never thought they’d be downright cruel to you, bringing up Rick the way they did. Looking out the window, you think back to the moment you felt frozen in that bathroom, unable to speak or move. You feel embarrassed for not standing up for yourself, blaming yourself instead of them and their hateful words. 

Joel notices your faraway expression and rests his hand on your thigh in a way so Sarah can’t see. He rubs his thumb over your bare skin and it both calms and excites you, heat rushing to the apex of your legs. 

You let out a small sigh and lean back into the chair, resting your hand on top of his. He has to rip his eyes off of you, willing himself to ignore your pleased exhales if he was going to drive properly. 

He pulls the car into the driveway one-handed and comes to a stop, turning around to talk to Sarah, “Go grab your stuff, chick, and we’ll go to Kelsey’s.”

She nods and hops out, running towards the house.

Joel turns to you, hand still on your leg, clearly nervous, “Do you want... do you want to come inside? I have wine and some clothes you can put on, if you want something more comfortable.”

You search his set features for confirmation, “You sure? I can just walk next door to my house, I don’t wanna put you out-”

“Y/n...” he stops you. “You should know by now that if I say something I mean it, I promise you.”

You didn’t know if it was a good idea being with him alone like this, but you honestly didn’t want to be by yourself right now. 

You relent with a nod, “Alright. You had your chance to change your mind,” you flash a sneaky smile. 

The two of you step out of the car and head into his house. Sarah’s already tumbling down the stairs, changed into pajamas with a packed bag slung over her shoulder, “Ready to go when you are.”

“Damn, you got ready fast, kid,” he laughs despite himself. “Let’s go.”

Sarah runs up and hugs your side, “Bye, y/n!”

“Have fun with Kelsey, be safe, okay?” you squeeze her shoulder. 

Joel whispers to you as they walk to the door, “There’s shirts upstairs and some shorts you can borrow. Make yourself at home, okay?”

“Okay,” you smile softly. 

They head out and leave you alone in the dimly lit house. You exhale slowly and head up the stairs to go to his room. You look around at the messy bedroom, one king size bed with blue covers, and minimal decorations. It felt like him, smelled like him, cedar and oak and smoke. You open one of his drawers to grab one of his big tee shirts from work, and a pair of baggy gym shorts. 

You slip out of your dress, let down your hair, and set your red shawl down on top of it. You tug on the big tee shirt and pull on the gym shorts. As much as you had liked that dress, you feel like you can finally breathe now, much more comfortable in your sleepwear now. The clothes smelled of him, too, and it filled your chest with heat, a red glow pouring out of you. 

You’re in Joel Millers room... wearing his clothes. 

You can’t help but look around at the photos of Sarah and him in framed photos, some hung on the wall and others propped up on his drawers. There’s one photo that catches your eye in particular, though, the side of it folded in and tucked into the frame. It’s Joel smiling down at Sarah, just a baby in his arms, and there’s a part of the photograph hidden. But you spot a glimpse of a yellow dress in the corner, the rest of it hidden away. 

You wonder if it’s Sarah’s mom. You don’t know much about her, just that Sarah says she never got to know her, and hardly remembers anything about her. It broke your heart hearing that, wishing she could have, but also selfishly wanting to be that person for her.

“Found what you needed?” 

You jump at Joel’s sudden presence in the room and turn around to him. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop, I-”

He smirks and it feels like a lit match to your insides, “I know, darlin. Nothing to be sorry about.”

His eyes trail over you in his clothes, your arms folded under your chest, “You look good in my clothes, sweetheart. Better than I do, that’s for sure.”

You smile, “Thank you. And thanks for letting me borrow them. I feel better.”

He pinches his brow together, “Do you want to talk to me more about what happened? We don’t have to, but just know I’m here.”

You take a step towards him, “I know, I just haven’t talked about him in a long time.”

“Him?” his eyebrows raise.

You laugh at his shock, moving past him so he follows you downstairs, “Down, boy. I’m single, wouldn’t have let you kiss me if I wasn’t.”

He blushes. “Well, then, what about him?” he trails behind you to his kitchen. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

You love his Texan drawl and voice a bit too much, how deep and molasses like it was, how it coated you in sweetness and didn’t let up. Maybe it was because you weren’t from here and you weren’t used to it. But his was different and it affected you all the same. 

“I might tell you,” you hop up on the countertop. “Over a glass of wine.”

Joel cracks a smile, happily obliging your request with one of his wine bottles, “I can do that.”

He pours you a glass of red and hands it to you, “So... who’s Rick?” He sips his own.

“My um... my ex fiancee,” you say, taking a long sip of your wine. “It feels weird calling him that...” you let out a dark laugh. “-since the two of us never ended it ourselves, it sounds wrong. But he uh-” your voice gets thick. “He died the beginning of last year.”

His face falls, genuinely on your behalf, wanting to wrap you in his arms, but also wanting to let you continue, “I’m so sorry, y/n.”

You’ve heard that more times than you can count from friends, family, and strangers alike, but from him, it’s one of the most sincere you’ve ever heard. You actually believe he truly cares and you wonder why you didn’t tell him sooner, maybe worried you’d scare him off. You wanted a fresh start in a place where no one knew Rick, where no one knew what happened. 

“Thank you,” you sniff, mustering up a small, grateful smile before you continue. “It was New Year’s Eve. I didn’t know he had been drinking... he really seemed fine,” you recount like it was just yesterday that it happened. 

“He didn’t see the ice on the roads,” you take another long sip, hands shaking again. You clear your throat, “I tried to help him, I thought we would be fine. But there was a bridge... and we went off. He got me out,” you blink the tears away, breathing out the words as if expelling them from your person. Like you wouldn’t have to hold onto them anymore. “He didn’t.”

“I’m alive because of him,” you inhale sharply, finally looking at Joel. “And he’s dead because I didn’t notice...”

He frowns, “It is absolutely not your fault, y/n. It’s a horrible thing that happened and it is not because of you.”

You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and it breaks Joel’s heart a bit more and more, “I haven’t thought about it in so long. And they brought him up in the bathroom. I don’t know how they found out, I haven’t told a soul here.”

Protectiveness slips into his deep tone of voice as he steps towards you, it sends a shock through you, “What did they say about him?”

You shake your head, letting out a laugh, “It’s not important.”

“It is absolutely fucking important,” his eyes darken when he speaks to you, you’d never seen him so worked up before. “I’ll go to the damn superintendent if I have to, they’re grown ass adults. They shouldn’t use the death of your fiancee against you.”

You can’t help but let a smile slip through, “It’s cute how mad you are about this.”

He scoffs, mirroring your amused expression, “Believe me, I’ve dealt with the wolves before. They ask you inappropriate questions and dig into your personal life, pushing your boundaries like it’s nothing. No one can have any secrets around here.”

“Yeah,” you sniff. “I noticed that.”

There’s a beat of silence before he sighs and says quietly between the two of you, “When they found out about Sarah’s mom leaving her when she was a baby, they brought it up to her at a school picnic. Made her feel small. She ran home, crying her eyes out. I’d never seen her so upset. I was scared what I would do. It broke me.”

You nod in understanding, “That’s awful, Joel. I’m sorry. For you and for Sarah.”

“The next time they brought it up, Sarah asked Bethany why she’d been divorced six times. You should have seen the look on her face,” he laughs and you join him, throwing your head back at the mental image of Bethany’s pinched, angry face. 

“Oh my god, I love Sarah so much,” you let your head fall into your hands, still laughing loudly in the otherwise silent kitchen. 

“I was very proud,” he grinned. 

“I’d hope so,” you tilt your head slightly. “She gets it from you. I wonder how she got that information about Bethany.”

“Beats me,” he smirks and you narrow your eyes affectionately in his direction. “Smart kid, that one.”

The two of you let the moment sink in for a bit in the silence. Joel’s standing between your legs now, hands on either side of your thigh, steadying himself. He searches your face like he did at the start of the evening, fingers itching to touch you again. 

“Should we...” you finally say, pulling you both back into reality. “Should we talk about the kiss back there?”

“What’s there to talk about about?”

You frown, filling with a sense of dread that you’ve misread this entire night, “What do you mean?”

He jumps to fix what he said, hands falling to splay out on your thighs, “No, baby, wait not like that-” he sighs. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m out of practice with this, sweetheart-”

You press a kiss to his lips, causing him to abruptly cease his rambling. You tilt your head and pull away from hm after just a couple seconds. He leans against you even after you’re away from him, lips trying to follow you. 

“I just meant...” you whisper with a small smile, looking up at him through your lashes. “Like what does this mean? Because I haven’t done something like this since Rick and I’m trying not to feel guilty...”

“Guilty bout what?”

“For moving on.”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty for that,” he shakes his head, lowering his voice. “I understand if you’re not ready though. It took me awhile, to open again, I still haven’t completely... But I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you. And I know I’ve never met Rick, but I believe he’d want you to be happy. With whoever, even if it’s not me.”

Your heart cracks open at the sweetness of his words, splitting you in two right in front of him. You know you shouldn’t feel bad, even if you’ve moved on from loving Rick, a part of you will always mourn and have a place in your heart for him. You needed to realize there was more than enough room to let other people in too. 

Your eyes soften, “You’re more out of practice than I thought if you think I’ve moved on with anyone else but you, Joel Miller.”

His eyes darken with something like raw desire and complete adoration, something like love that you haven’t seen in a long, long time. You don’t know if he’s been looking at you like this all along and if you’ve just now begun to notice. 

Joel leans down to whisper to you, hand on your neck, thumb tucked under chin and other fingers on the side of your throat, squeezing just so. You dreamed of this, thought if he would be rough or sweet, when he was really a stunning, swirling mix of both. 

“You were so jealous earlier,” his voice is wrecked in your ear, low and gravelly. “I thought I was just imagining it at first, but talking about those moms that think of me, you got so red. It was so sexy, sweetheart.”

You gasp a little, wanting to deny it, tease him. But who were you both kidding? You were jealous, and now there’s a warm satisfaction in the center of your chest at the fact they were wrong. Singing insults, saying he wouldn’t want you. Now you’re in his kitchen in the middle of the night wearing his shirt and he’s in between your legs, pressing against you. 

“They said I didn’t have a chance with you,” you tangle you hands in his shirt, tugging him closer. 

He shakes his head, eyes never leaving you, “I’m only yours, baby. Always have been.”

You all but pounce on him in that moment, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him close. He laughs just before you softly press your lips against his, the rumbling, beautiful sound vibrating against you. You’re tugging at each other almost immediately, his hands pulling and sliding up and down your waist while your arms wrap around his head. You fingers slide through his brunette curls, pleasantly humming at the satisfaction of knowing his hair is just as soft as you imagined, how even his rough hands feel gentle, and how his lips move with yours, slowly, languidly, painfully. 

“You’re beautiful...” he kisses the words into your neck, repeating it over and over. “My beautiful, beautiful, girl.”

“Joel...” you sigh out and tilt your head back. 

“Puts your arms around my neck, baby,” he whispers, arms pulling your legs up so they wrap around his torso. “What I want to do to you won’t work exactly on my kitchen counter.”

You quickly oblige him and he carries you up his stairs, your hands and lips never leaving each others. He stumbles while holding you, making you giggle into his shoulder, shrieking when he almost drops you.

“Was this the kind of lifting you had in mind with me tonight?” you smile softly into his skin. 

He kicks open his bedroom door, “I’ve always had this in my mind, sweetheart.”

You both drop onto the bed, wanting to take this slow but also get to what you’ve both been wanting as soon as possible. He’s atop you, hands on either side of your head while you kiss like college students, handsy and messy and surprisingly amazing. How fast you two fit together, how good it feels. He grinds his lower half into yours. You moan into his mouth, earning one from him, both enjoying and exploring the other. 

“I wanna taste you, sugar,” he lifts your chin up with his fingers, kissing down your chin then your neck then your collarbone and chest. 

You wordlessly slip off your, his, shirt revealing that you have nothing on beneath it. He inhales sharply, taken aback by you. Your fingers scramble for the buttons of his flannel and you honestly think you break a few, moving so quickly. 

“Impatient, are we?”

You look up at him through your lashes, “Just know what I want.”

Joel shrugs off his shirt, undoes his belt, and pulls off his jeans. You barely have time to admire his toned body, broad shoulders before he descends. He tugs off your, his, shorts, tosses them, and kisses everywhere his fingers leave, wet, open mouthed whispers against hot skin that make moisture pool between your thighs. His lips trail from your belly to your inner thighs and back up again. 

“Nothing underneath?” he kisses the soft flesh, noting the slick at the apex of your legs. “This all for me, darlin?”

You nod when he licks a stripe up your cunt, “Only you, Joel.”

He buries his face in you, eating you out like a man starved, rutting against the bed like he’s enjoying it as much as you are. You all but scream at the way he’s unraveling you with his tongue, circling your clit, accompanying his skilled mouth with his equally capable fingers, bigger than yours

When you tug at the ends of his hair, he groans into you, the noises fueling the coil in your gut, begging it to splinter and snap. He sucks hard and you let out a loud moan at the feeling. He holds you down against the bed with a palm flat against your stomach as you begin to lift your pelvis. Joel’s tongue enters you while his fingers take over, stimulating you with gentle rubs and flicks. 

Your orgasm washes over you, the pressure relieving through every nerve and vessel, his name a prayer leaving you over and over. Wishing for him to come fix you again. 

You pull him up to you and bring him down to press your lips against his. He melts into you, arms wrapped around you while he holds you close, filling you out in all the right places while you taste yourself in his kiss. 

“Can I...?” you ask him, hands slipping down to palm him through his boxers. 

He groans, head falling into the crook that meets between your neck and shoulder, “As much as I would enjoy that, baby... we’re gonna need to do that later. Need to be inside you.”

You look at him for a moment, just breathing him in as cheesy as it sounds. It’s only hit you now how much you’ve been longing for this.

“You have all of me,” you tell him, moonlight sculpting his handsome features. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that, y/n...” your name is blanketed by his voice, delivered to you in the way Zeus gives the world lightning. Simple bursts of electricity that can tear the earth. 

You hold his stubbled jaw in your hands, rubbing his cheek with your thumbs. He doesn’t remember a time anyone has ever looked at him like you do, gently, adoringly, openly.

Joel puts his lips near your ear, kissing your temple, “Are you ready for me, sweetheart?” 

You nod as he pushes himself inside you and you bite back a moan into his shoulder. 

Your hair is in messy tendrils in every which way and you’ve never been more breathtaking to him. The color of your eyes brighter, skin flushed with warmth, and lips puffy. His eyes scan over your face, committing your soft and sharp features alike to memory. Lust blown and glowing with dewy sweat. 

“Eyes on me, beautiful,” he holds your jaw in his hand, kissing you again. 

He quickens his pace and you whine into his mouth, nails digging into his skin. You wrap your legs around his torso and he hits you so nicely. He rises and looks at you, lips swollen and red from kissing, eyes clear and pupils large, and face flushed with heat. 

“You’re doing so good for me,” he praises in your ear, littering kisses across your jaw. “Wanted you for so long...” he find your lips again with his own.

You mewl into his lips, licking his tongue as he pushes inside you again and again and again.

This past year of stolen glances and touches seem so pointless when it could have been this, this beautiful mess of limbs and lips and tongue. You never knew euphoria until this moment. 

Joel’s hips begin to stutter and you’re both already close to release. You lick up his throat and kiss a constellation across his jaw, feeling him gulp under your touch.

“Keep kissing me like that, sugar, and I’m done for.”

You can’t help yourself, overwhelmed with feeling as the two of you reach your climax together. Blissful and stupid. His lips wander down your neck and nipping that sweet spot, as you arch into him.

You whimper and his movements slow as do yours, walls tightening around him. He reaches down and rubs your clit with his expert fingers. 

You finish together, mouths open and hands all over each other’s bodies. It overcomes you in a tingling, perfect sensation, continuing on in euphoric waves, leaving you aching and wanting more. He kisses you through it and it aches, all of the love you have pouring into him and him into you.

As you both lay there, chests heaving slips parted, he smiles down at you.

“Will you go out… with me?” Joel says sweetly, kissing your temples. “That usually comes first but we- I…”

You interrupt his nervous ramblings with a soft kiss, “The answer is always yes.”

You interrupt his nervous ramblings with a press of your lips quietly, “Yes. The answer is always yes.”

Joel rubs his knuckles over your cheek, softly and adoringly he looks at you. You tuck yourself into his arms under the blankets. Your chests heaving, out of breath but happy. Everything you both have wanted for a long, long time, laying right in front of each other. 

“Can I...” he searches your face, face red and nervous you’ll say no even when you’re in his arms. “Can I take you out tomorrow? I usually do that before this, but we just... I-”

You interrupt with a kiss, his new favorite thing, whispering, “Yes, Joel. The answer is always yes.”

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[greatestgrandma]

two   of   three.

#td. #╰ * 𝐚𝐫𝐜. … 〔 𝟎𝟎𝟎 〕 ﹕ present day. #╰ * 𝐚𝐫𝐜. … 〔 𝟎𝟎𝟏 〕 ﹕ can i go back to jail now? #╰ * 𝐚𝐫𝐜. … 〔 𝟎𝟎𝟐 〕 ﹕ thinks for thanking of me. #╰ * 𝐚𝐫𝐜. … 〔 𝟎𝟎𝟑 〕 ﹕ world's greatest grandma. #╰ * 𝐚𝐫𝐜. … 〔 𝟎𝟎𝟒 〕 ﹕ that's america's ass. #╰ * 𝐫𝐞. 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐 ﹕ character study. #╰ * 𝐫𝐞. 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐 ﹕ countenance. #╰ * 𝐫𝐞. 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐 ﹕ headcanon. #╰ * 𝐝𝐲𝐧. … cassie lang. #╰ * 𝐝𝐲𝐧. … cassie lang ✧ microstature. #╰ * 𝐢𝐦𝐠. … cassie lang ✧ microstature.

[tonyspank]

LOVERS ROCK

Warnings: kissing, fluff

Summary: Jenna meets you during a football game.

A/N: decided to release this a bit earlier because i missed y’all

The arena was packed, but even that was an understatement. Loud cheers and chants echoed through the arena, creating an atmosphere of excitement. Every seat was filled, and people were standing in the aisles and at the back of the stadium. It was clear that the crowd was ready for the game.

Everyone's eyes were on two people tonight. Messi and Ronaldo, two of the greatest players in the world, were about to take the field. The anticipation was palpable as the players lined up for the kickoff. It was a match that no one wanted to miss. Including yourself, you were seated further back in the stadium, not wanting to sit too close as it ruins the view of the game.

You heard the whistle blow, signalling the start of the match. You felt your heart racing as the ball was kicked off. You could feel the energy of the stadium rising, and the crowd roared with anticipation. You were already hooked and ready to watch the game unfold.

The players were in full motion, running and passing the ball with precision. Every time the ball moved closer to either goal, tension could be felt in the air. The players fought hard for every inch, and Ronaldo was so close to scoring a goal. He leapt up for a header, but the keeper was too quick and managed to save it. "Tão perto!" (So close!) You shout, standing up from your seat.

The crowd roared in appreciation for his effort, and the game continued on as if nothing had happened. Ronaldo looked disappointed, but he quickly got up and encouraged his teammates to keep pushing. He knew that one goal could turn the game around and he wasn't going to give up. The crowd cheered him on, and the players continued to battle it out.

Not too long after Messi scores his first goal of tonight, the majority of the people around you jumped in joy. But you, you sank down into your seat. Ronaldo looked dejected, but he kept his composure and continued to urge on his team.

"That was so good," you hear a girl say beside you despite the loud crowd. She suddenly turned to you and flashed a smile. You smiled back, still in awe of what Messi had just done. "He is okay." You tell her, leaning in close so she can hear you, your Portuguese accent strong in your words. She laughs, nodding in agreement. "He's one of my favorite players. I've been meaning to see him for a while."

You nod, "Ronaldo is my favorite." She raises her eyebrows in surprise. "Really? Most people around here say Messi is the best." You shrug, "I like both, but I am uhh, what's it called..." You snap your fingers, and squint your eyes trying to remember the right word. "Tendencioso..." The girl furrows her eyebrows in confusion.

"Ah, biased! That's the word." The girl smiles and nods in understanding. " She giggles, "Yeah, same here. It's always Messi vs Ronaldo with everyone." You chuckle in agreement. "Exactly, but it's just opinion, right?" She nods, "Yeah, opinion."

"Where are you from?" She asks, and you reply, "I'm from the United States." She grins and says, "Really? You have a very strong accent." You chuckle, "From hanging out with my father and grandma so much." She smiles knowingly and says, "I see. Family has a way of influencing accents. I'm Jenna by the way."

You smile, "It's nice to meet you. I'm Y/N." You both laugh and the conversation turns to other topics, the game no longer the topic. You share stories of your families and the different experiences you've had growing up, and how those experiences have shaped your outlook on life.

"My mom is actually here with me. She's in the bathroom somewhere," Jenna says. You adjust the glasses on your face with a smile. "My father is here too, he's probably outside getting some fresh air." You say, looking around.

Looking back on the field you watch as the game is coming to a close. Just then Jenna's mom comes back. You turn to Jenna's mom and introduce yourself. "It's nice to meet you," you say with a friendly smile. Jenna's mom smiles back and says, "It's nice to meet you too!" You all laugh and exchange a few more pleasantries before focusing back on the game.

Ronaldo's team comes out on top and you jump up, clapping your hands in excitement. Jenna laughs at you, playfully rolling her eyes at your reaction. After the game, Jenna and you sit back and continue talking as the players make their way to the locker rooms.

Ronaldo waves at you from a distance and you smile, waving back. Jenna notices and her mouth drops in shock. "Did Ronaldo just wave at you?" You nod, feeling your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

With your hoodie up and glasses on, no one knew that you were Ronaldo's kid. It felt nice to just be able to sit back and watch him play without a bunch of people pestering you.

Jenna looks at you wide-eyed and full of admiration. You smile and shrug it off, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. "Would rather it be Messi," you joke causing Jenna to cover her mouth in laughter.

You both chuckle at your joke, and the moment passes. You can feel the admiration between you both, a newfound connection forming.

Not long after that, a man with a camera approaches the two of you. "Jenna! Can we get a photo?" Jenna obliges, posing for the camera while holding up a customized jersey. The man takes a few shots and then thanks Jenna before walking away. Jenna turns to you and grins. "You're famous?" you ask.

Jenna nodded. "I'm an actor." She explained that her latest role was in a commercial for Adidas and that the customized jersey was part of her costume for the shoot. You were amazed and filled with admiration at her success, especially after hearing about her upbringing. "Huh," is all you can muster.

Jenna smiles, clearly pleased with the admiration. "Oh meu Deus, você é Wednesday Addams." You mumble to yourself, but Jenna hears it. Jenna's eyes lit up in surprise and she laughed. "That's right!" You smiled, "You did the dance!" You begin mocking the movements of the dance but Jenna shakes her head, her face heating up in embarrassment. Jenna laughs and playfully nudges you. "My secret is out," she said. You smiled, feeling happy that you had made her laugh.

Jenna and you continued to chat, finding out more about each other, and you were surprised to find out that you had a lot in common. Jenna's sarcastic jokes and remarks surprisingly made you feel at ease and you enjoyed the conversation. Before you knew it, the evening had passed and it was time to part ways.

It's been a couple of weeks since you've seen Jenna. You gotta admit, you missed talking to her. She didn't know who you were, but you knew who she was. You decided to comment under her most recent post, not thinking about the media would probably react.

Liked by y/nronaldo, theweeknd, and 7,920,182 others

jennaortega 🖤

View all 32,910 comments

y/nronaldo me mande uma mensagem estou com saudades de falar com você

hanna_iah12 Y/N RONALDO?? WTF

jennaortegaswife WHAT IS Y/N RONALDO DOING IN MY GIRLS COMMENT SECTION

y/n_ronaldo123 SINTO SUA FALTA?? 😳😳

jenna - ronaldo?

jenna - you didn't tell me that at the game

you - slipped my mind 😅

jenna - sure

jenna - that's why he waved at you

you - yes

you - i miss talking to you we had a very pleasant conversation

jenna - i miss talking to you as well

jenna - im going to be in paris for the next few days, are you?

you - i'll be leaving soon

you - we should hang out

"So, do you get a lot of backlash for not playing soccer—football..." She glances at you, and you laugh at her slip-up before continuing. "Like your father?" She looks away, blushing. "No," you say. "My dad's really supportive. He just wants me to be happy. But the media, yes. Ruthless. I understand why people want me to play football - it's what my dad is best at, and it's what people expect of me. But I'm not interested."

Jenna nods in response, taking the mask off her face. "But enough about me. You are splitting image of your mother!" You say, smiling. Jenna blushes again and laughs lightly. "Yeah, I guess I do look like her," Jenna says, still blushing.

You take off your glasses, stopping your course, and finding a spot to stand nearby. You chuckle and look into Jenna's eyes, your smile growing wider. "You know, I'm really glad that I got to meet you, Jenna," you say, still smiling. Jenna grins back and nods in agreement.

"Do you only speak Portuguese and English?" Jenna asks you. You shake your head, "No, I know some Spanish too." Jenna's eyes light up. "Really? That's great," she says. "I don't speak much Spanish myself but I know a couple of words. Maybe you can teach me some," Jenna suggests. You nod and smile. "Claro, no hay problema."

You fidget with your glasses, staring into the shorter girl's gaze. You look away quickly as she holds eye contact strongly. "I uh, I only know a lot because of my father. He's fluent in Portuguese and since we used to live in Spain so I had to learn a bit of Spanish as well." She smiles, her eyes twinkling. "It's amazing how you can pick up a language so quickly."

You shrug, "E simples mesmo..." She laughs, her eyes crinkling in the corners as she understands what you're saying with a few context clues. "You're so modest! You must be really smart." You shake your head, "Não, eu só pratiquei muito." She squints her eyebrows before laughing, "I have no idea what you just said."

You smile, "Pratiquei means I practiced a lot. I just took the time to learn it." She nods, "That's impressive." You chuckle, "It's nothing special. Everyone can do it if they put in the effort." She smiles, "Most people don't. That's what makes it special."

You nod, what she said was true. It also felt nice to get so many compliments from her about something so simple. "Are you hungry?" She nodded and smiled. "I haven't eaten anything since lunch, so I'm starving." You both laughed and offered to buy her dinner. She agrees, pulling up her mask before the two of you head off together.

Several months have passed since you and Jenna were spotted together in Paris. Rumours have been swirling about the two of you ever since. Some people say you're in a relationship, while others say it was just a casual fling. Whatever the truth is, nobody knows for sure.

All anyone can do is speculate, and the answers remain shrouded in mystery. Jenna has refused to comment on the matter, and you have stayed silent. Both of you have left the public to guess what's really happening between you two. You didn't know what you two were either to be fair. But one thing was clear: the connection between you was undeniable. Despite the lack of communication between you two, the bond was still there. It was a feeling neither one of you could deny.

Jenna felt herself wanting to be touching you every second. Your presence was just so comforting. You were like a magnet, drawing her in closer and closer. While all you wanted to do was stare into Jenna's eyes, her eyes expressed so much, and it was obvious that she was in love with you. Well, obvious to everyone except you of course.

Jenna's heart raced as she looked at you. She wanted to say something, but nothing came out. All she could do was stand there, hoping you'd notice her feelings and finally make a move.

Now back in the United States, you were at Jenna's place, a vinyl lowly playing in the background. Jenna laid against your shoulder as the two of you sat on the couch, just enjoying each other's company. You were actually teaching her some Portuguese, as she told you she downloaded Duolingo not too long ago. It was cute how she was going through all this trouble to learn your father's native language. She said she wanted to be able to communicate with your family if she visited them.

You were so proud of her effort, and she seemed to be really enjoying it. "Olá, sou a Jenna. Prazer em conhecê-lo." (Hi, I'm Jenna. Pleasure to meet you.) Jenna said slowly, repeating your words. You smiled and replied, "Muito prazer, Jenna! Você fala Português muito bem." (Nice to meet you, Jenna! You speak Portuguese very well.) She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to decipher what you said. You smiled and repeated what you said, slower, and she nodded in understanding. "Obrigado!" (Thank you!)

Jenna smiled and repeated the phrase back to you almost perfectly. You praised her for her effort, and she beams with pride. She had been learning Portuguese for a few weeks, and it was great to see her progress. "See, it is not that bad." You tell her. "You are doing really well!" Jenna smiled even wider and thanked you for the encouragement.

"Let's keep going," you said. "You are learning so fast, and I'm proud of you!" Jenna nodded in agreement, and you both got back to practicing Portuguese. After a while, you started to get up. Jenna furrowed her brows in confusion. "Where are you going?" she asked. You smiled and said, "That's enough for today. You've made great progress, I was going to head home." Jenna stared at you for a few seconds before speaking up, "You could stay here for tonight. If you want of course."

You hesitated for a moment before answering, "That sounds nice. I would be happy to stay." Jenna smiled and got up, motioning for you to sit back down. Instead, you turned up the vinyl player and held out your hand to Jenna. She began laughing, covering her mouth with her hand as she shook her head. "I can't dance." She laughs and you tilt your head in response, a smile on your lips. "Come on, it's easy," you say, dancing a bit on your own.

Jenna smiles at you and you hold out your hand again. "Por favor?" Jenna takes your hand and you start to twirl her around the room, the music guiding your movements. Jenna laughs, resting her head on your shoulder. Her laughter is contagious and you can't help but join in. You slowly come to a stop, Jenna still in your arms. As the music fades away, you find yourself lost in her eyes.

Jenna smiles her eyes glancing around your face. You lean in and gently press your lips against hers, feeling her lips soft against yours. Jenna's hands grip your shirt, pulling you deeper into the kiss. You wrap your arms around her waist and pull her closer, your heart pounding in your chest. You finally pull away, both of you breathless. You gaze into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passing between you. You lean in and kiss her again, this time softer and slower.

You break the kiss and Jenna's face breaks into a huge smile. She rests her forehead against yours, her eyes full of love and joy. "Eu te amo..." (I love you...) she whispers, her voice barely audible. You smile, bringing her into a tight hug before you press a kiss on the top of her head.

"Eu também te amo." (I love you too.)

#reader insert #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wattpad #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna x reader #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega x g!p reader #jenna ortega x male reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega imagine

[biteofcherry]

Entwined

Leshy!Steve Rogers x female reader; Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: You enter the woods hoping to gain the ancient being's mercy and help. However, you hadn't expected how truly powerful he is, or what price he will ask of you.

*Leshy is a deity of the forests in Slavic mythology. He rules over the forest and hunting.

warnings: sort of monsterfucking (though Leshy isn't exactly a monster, more of an eldritch entity); consensual, with a slight dash of dub-con; tiny bit of manipulation; smut;

Author's Note: This is a story written for Aspen's (@buckets-and-trees) Enchanted Birthday Festival. Early happy birthday, love! ❤️ I've been toying with the idea of Leshy!Steve for a bit and Aspen's challenge was the perfect opportunity to work on it. Especially since she loves forests, plants and all things wild nature 💚 Also a special shout out to @vonalyn who listened to me ramble about the hotness of Leshy!Steve when the idea first came to mind!

“Are you willing to sacrifice?”

His voice echoed with the power of a booming wind, rattling your bones and swishing up your skirts.

The trees surrounding you seemed to grow out their branches, weaving into thick, green walls closing up. Sunlight, just moments ago filtering through the tree crowns, had disappeared; but the dots of luminescent fireflies flickered on, filling the space with a deceptively warm glow.

You looked around, seeking for a path, or entrance through which you might escape, if you chose to. There was none. Within seconds you found yourself trapped in the depths of the ancient forest, with a being whose mercy you came to beg for. 

When about an hour ago you stepped into the woods, you were bracing yourself for the sense of being watched, perhaps hunted. You haven’t considered how closely in contact with the powers of nature you’d come. 

Your steps never faltered as the soft carpet of juicy grass beneath your feet seemed to grow more resilient the deeper into the woods you went; green straws springing back from being crushed under your shoe. The further you went, however, the dewy emerald grew sparse, shrinking into rich soil scattered with shards of bark, little leaves and pillows of moss.

Rays of sunlight filtered through the branches, casting glowy direction into the sacred altar hidden in the belly of the wilderness. It felt so peaceful, so relaxing, that you’d gladly sink into the shades of green and speckles of gold. 

If not for the pounding of your worried heart, which knew that you were searching for more than reprieve. 

Had you known what awaited, you’d listen to your heart’s anxious patter and run away.

But you were determined. Though your grandma would probably call it simple stubbornness. 

You didn’t enter the woods to forage, nor to roam it to fill your soul with happiness. No, your feet carried you forward to face the greatest of dangers and beg for mercy.

Not only for yourself, but for the village and people who lived in fear, but still refused to abide by the ancient laws. Proud and focused on ways to increase wealth, they forgot there’s more in the world than just gold and war. 

Powers mightier than any army. Beings greater and more dangerous than any king. 

When wolves ripped to shreds one of the lumberjacks, everyone thought it to be a tragic accident. When two other people disappeared in the woods, never returning, others came up with ideas of them running away. Then a mother was seen screaming as wolves dragged her body into the forest. The child that followed, crying after its mum, disappeared. A day later a small fawn started prancing around the garden by the empty now household.

Still, people refused to bow to the entity that could be behind all of this, or at least held the power to end this madness. Or so you hoped. 

Having packed a big wicker basket of offerings - jars of golden honey, cheese wrapped in paper, strings of colorful beads and pearls, folded silk, dried exotic fruit you got from the market - you carried it deep into the woods, to place them on the long forgotten altar where your ancestors paid their respects to the guardian of the forest and nature.

Leshy.

You expected to find the ancient, stone altar, with a deformed statue overgrown with moss. The plan was to lay your offerings there, spend some time bowing down and praying for mercy, then returning to the clueless village.

For a few beats it went like that. The birds still chirped, leaves rustled softly in the wind, your offerings laid motionless on the slab of stone.

Then, suddenly, ivy vines weaved up, covering the stone and your produce in a thick cocoon. The earth rumbled and melted, swallowing the altar whole. 

Startled, you took a shaky step back and lost your balance, falling onto your butt. A split of a second when your gaze looked up at the darkening sky and when you returned it forward, he was already standing in front of you.  

Whenever you thought of Leshy, no particular image came to mind. You always thought the creature to be an entity beyond human imagination. 

He was that, but also… not.

He reminded a human man, but only at first glance. 

Much taller, with shoulders broader than the blacksmith’s (whom you always thought to be the biggest man alive). His complexion was fair, but the veins in his arms were jewel green. His hair and beard seemed cast from various shades of gold, intertwined with russet bronze and chestnut reddish. Delicate, tiny vines crawled up his cheeks and along his forehead; like intricate tattoos. 

From the thick mane of his silky looking hair sprouted majestic antlers. Thick and sturdy, their dark color with filaments of gold shining through. His eyes, when you met them, were a striking shade of blue-green. Rare and iridescent, like ponds bathed in the light of dawn. 

“It’s been a while since a human has come to me.” 

The entity’s voice was deep and low, both dangerous and soft, like a purr of a bear or a jungle cat. 

“Are you Leshy?” You swallowed nervously.

“I’ve been called that, yes.” When he grinned, amused, the filigree vines on his body glowed luminescent. 

“And you are?” He asked, courtly. 

When you whispered your name, he leaned forward, bending slightly and outstretching his hand for you to take. As you slipped your shaky fingers into his palm, you felt the pulsing warmth seep through you. It reminded you of the sun-heated earth beneath bare feet. 

As he helped you stand up, your gaze drifted up his body. You noticed that while most of his skin looked like any human’s flesh, a stripe along his left calf and thigh seemed textured like bark. A combination of moss and vines formed a fitting coverage around his narrow hips; yet you still caught the sight of a green vein slithering down his chiseled abdomen. 

More gold-glowing, floral-like tattoos appeared ingrained into the skin along his ribs. Skin on top of his right shoulder looked to be made of bark, just like on his leg. 

As much as he looked unworldly, you also found him majestic. 

Beautiful, as nature itself.

“Those who know me, call me Steve.” He said, holding your hand in his and not letting you step away. “It's a shortened and funnily deformed version of Svyatobor.” 

Lost in his eerie blue eyes, it took you a longer moment to realize what his name meant. 

Breath hitched in your chest, your pupils widened as you stared up at him. All this time you believed Leshy is a creature brought to life and given a purpose by a god. That’s what all the legends suggested. It didn’t occur to you, it's a deity itself.

A god of the forest.

After a moment of complete stupor, shock gave way to a flash of fear. You bowed your head and started to fall onto your knees, to pay proper respect. However, his hand still holding yours pulled you up.

“None of that is necessary.” He assured you. 

Though when you tipped your head up to look at him, Leshy’s gaze slid down your body in a slow, assessing study. 

“At least not in that sense,” he murmured, licking his lips. 

His eyes flicked back to yours. The stark blue pulsing with more green specks than before; as if his body came to life the same way nature sprung back as the snow melted away. 

You felt a rush of heat through your veins at the suggestive implication of his words.

“What have you come here for, little fern?” 

“To beg for mercy for my village.” Once again, you lowered your gaze. “People have been disappearing and being hurt. Swallowed by the forest or its creatures. I plead for no more blood to be spilled.”

Steve’s face betrayed no sign of irritation. For a split of a second you thought you saw a flash of sunlit amusement in his irises, but no mockery followed. He studied you for a long moment, not saying a word.

When he moved, it was slow and nonthreatening. You still startled, though perhaps it was at the loss of contact as his hand gently released your fingers. 

He walked over to where the ground swallowed the altar with your offerings. It was only then that you realized a thick carpet of clovers had filled the space where the table had been. Delicate leaves tilted toward Steve’s legs, brushing against him with the softest of rustles, as if they were purring for him.

“You brought me honey, which you poured out of the goodness of your heart. But don’t you know that our wild bees’ honey is sweeter?” Steve asked, walking barefoot through the small field of clovers back toward you. 

He stepped even closer this time and you felt the unique warmth radiating from him. A little stifling, like the humidity of the forest soaked in rain that was evaporating in the high summer sun.

It was making you dizzy in a very pleasant way.

“You gave me expensive fabrics, but nothing feels as soft and luxurious as petals of early spring’s flowers.” He circled you, like an animal may circle its prey. “None of your colorful beads shine as bright as drops of dew in the moonlight.” 

“I-” What were you supposed to say? You didn’t have much and what you gave away was a big sacrifice in terms of your day to day survival. 

You also didn’t think Leshy would be pleased, if you brought seasoned meat. He was, after all, a protector of wild animals. That sort of disrespect may have killed you on the spot.

Suddenly, you felt his hand brush along your waist. A light, fleeting touch, but enough to send a jolt down your spine.

“Moreover, you try to barter a single basket for dozens of lives.” Steve stopped in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” You lowered your head in shame, feeling the burning tears gather beneath your eyelids.

He was right and you didn’t think of that when you were packing your basket. It made you feel helpless, that you had nothing else to offer. 

“Don’t be.” Steve tilted your chin up with the pads of his fingertips. His gaze was soft, glinting sincerity.

“You still did more than any other human has for decades. I’m just pointing out that a life can be compared in cost to another life, nothing else. No riches equal a heartbeat.” 

You understood the value, agreed with it completely. But it made the situation look unsolvable. The fate of your village was doomed to go through horrors, since there was no other way to barter for it. 

Then you registered the warmth of Steve’s fingers still holding your chin. His thumb angled to rub along your lower lip. You were in the hands of a powerful deity. Steve may have appeared nonthreatening, but he was still an ancient entity demanding a sacrifice. 

No riches equal a heartbeat. You had a heartbeat. A rapidly fluttering one, at the moment; bouncing against the bars of your ribcage in fear of being ripped from it.

“You mean-” You swallowed a bile rising in your throat. “My life for theirs?”

You wanted to help your village, to help people in general. That need to care and nurture have always been so deeply ingrained in you. But you wanted to live! You wanted to experience feelings and wonders, joys and losses. You weren’t ready to meet the end so soon, so unexpectedly. The two needs - to help and to survive - were clashing in violence. 

Steve’s hand moved from your chin to cup your cheek. Since he was the only comfort available at the moment, you leaned into his touch. A soothing shush spilled from his lips as he caught your panicked gaze and locked it with his. 

“I’m not thirsty for blood, little fern.” He assured you. “I long for company.”

Somehow, looking into his eyes and sinking into the warmth his closeness provided, you felt the fear subsiding. Slowly, still leaving instinctive distrust, but it eased away.

“You want a friend?” You blinked, a little confused. 

Of course you understood what he meant the moment he said it, but a voice of reason wouldn’t accept the fact this beautiful, powerful being wanted to bed you. Out of all the things a deity may demand, fucking an unimpressive mortal like you shouldn’t be on the list. 

Steve laughed at your question, genuinely amused.

Instantly, choirs of birds joined his mirth in a tinkling melody that carried through the forest. 

“No.” Steve shook his head; smile-caused crinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes and the filigree vines along his skin curled. 

“I’ve got friends. You would meet them, if you stayed.” It surprised you, teasing your curiosity about what other beings roamed these forests. 

Your thoughts didn’t stay focused on the matter for long. Not when Steve’s hand slid down the column of your neck, his other arm weaving around your waist and pulling you close to his body. 

Very close. Even through the fabrics of your skirts and corset you felt the hard planes of his muscles against the softness of your body. Your hands landed on his chest, at first in an attempt to brace yourself to perhaps fight him off, but any force to push away dissipated. Instead, your fingertips were tingling. 

Steve’s breath teased your skin as he leaned down, trailing his lips along your jaw. 

“I want intimacy. Passion. And devotion.” He murmured, gripping the back of your neck as his other hand dipped lower to squeeze the flesh of your bottom. 

Abruptly, your whole body tensed and you gasped when something coiled around your ankles. Thin and tickling, possibly an ivy vine. It curled along your legs, reaching upwards. Teasing your skin with a brush of leaves and forcing your legs slightly apart.

Steve’s lips grazed the shell of your ear.

“I wish to splay you on the moss and have it soak up your sweet juices as I play with your pretty cunt.” 

You jerked in his embrace, but your core ignited. Heat pooled low in your abdomen, spreading down in a quick wave and filling your folds.  

“I want to stretch you on my cock and have you call me your god not out of fear, but the pleasure I give you.” The vines that weaved around your legs didn’t reach far up your thighs, but if they had, your wetness would coat the delicate leaves. 

“I want to fill you, until you bloom flowers and berries.” 

Breathing became hard as the images filled your head; though you doubted it was a trick of his, more your own imagination eagerly supplying possibilities Steve words enticed. 

When Steve unexpectedly released you and took a step back, you shivered as if you were dropped into a cold cave. Deprived of light and warmth.

He appeared more inhuman as he stretched to his full height and loomed over you. 

“Are you willing to sacrifice?” 

His voice echoed with the power of a booming wind, rattling your bones and swishing up your skirts.

The trees surrounding you seemed to grow out their branches, weaving into thick, green walls closing up. Sunlight, just moments ago filtering through the tree crowns, had disappeared; but the dots of luminescent fireflies flickered on, filling the space with a deceptively warm glow.

Shaken from the daze Steve’s proximity and dirty words have caused, you faced the deal he was proposing with a clearer mind. 

You’d be bound to the forest as long as Steve wanted to keep you, having to abandon your human life and plans. But you would be alive. And so would the villagers, some of whom were your friends. 

You chanced one more look at the wall of branches and vines, briefly wondering if he’d let you go had you refused. Probably. But it was uncertain what awaited your village, or any other, if you backed out. 

Taking a deep breath, you turned back to Steve. You gripped the fabric of your skirt to cover the nervous shaking of your fingers. 

“Yes,” the word rolled out on your tongue like a faint whisper, but he heard it. 

His eyes shimmered with tempting joy, like the reflection of sunlight on the rippling sheet of a lake. In a blink of an eye he was right in front of you, his hands on your hips.   

“I’ll be good to you, my little fern.” Tip of his nose nudged along yours, warm breath softening your lips into compliance. 

When he kissed you, it felt as if berries burst on your tongue, filling your mouth with sweet flavor. 

Your hands traveled up his arms, clutching his shoulders. The one covered in bark provided a new, unique sensation. It grazed your fingertips, but also felt grounding. He didn’t have to pull you closer, your body turned pliant on its own volition. 

Steve swallowed your gasp, gripping your hips tighter, as thick vines of ivy rapidly wound around you. They covered you whole, like they had that stone altar before. It felt scary and suffocating, but as soon as the cocoon of greenery swallowed your forms fully it burst apart; leaves scattered around in a fountain. 

You broke the kiss, tipping your head away and looking around. You were no longer in the same spot. You were in no recognizable place, to be exact. 

If you could find a name for it, the heart of the forest would be it. 

Light green grass spread around in a thick carpet, with patterns of bluebells and lilies of the valley. Graceful, tall birches circled the place, their silvery leaves catching chunks of sun rays. By a spot where wild rose bushes weaved an intricate arch stood a big bed. Easily high at hip height, woven tightly of green moss and periwinkles.

Steve didn’t give you much time to admire. With a firm push of his hand he tilted your head back towards him. Kept cupping your cheek as he kissed you again, more urgently this time. Demanding. 

He released you to tug on your clothes, doing a swift job with layers of your skirts, but grumbling a bit when trying to untie your corset. 

“Won’t need that anymore here, little fern,” he purred as your breasts spilled out. 

Then he was picking you up, big hands gripping the back of your thighs and hoisting you easily. He sat on the bed, slowly easing you down until you were standing between his spread legs. 

It was only then that you realized the coverage around his hips was gone, leaving him exposed in all his glory. 

You couldn’t help peeking down. Your pussy clenched around nothing as you stared at the impressive size of him. Your mouth filled with the aftertaste of berries and your own saliva as his cock twitched upwards.

Steve’s hands roamed over your body, exploring your curves and lines with utmost fascination. He didn’t hesitate leaning forward to capture a stiff nipple into his mouth, sucking eagerly. His antlers gave you a scare as they brushed so close to your skin, but not once did his movement cause you pain. 

Feeling a little bolder, you slipped one of your hands between the roots of his antlers and into his hair. They felt soft and silky. Your other hand gripped the top of his shoulder; the one where bark printed into your palm in a sensation you were finding more and more pleasant. 

As Steve pulled back slightly, you slipped your fingers from his hair and across his face, mapping out contours and scratching through his beard. He gripped one of your legs under your knee and pulled it up, placing your foot on the bed and spreading you obscenely. His eyes darkened, something wolfish glinting in them as his gaze settled on your puffed, wet folds.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he demanded in a raspy voice. 

The hand on your calf kept caressing and squeezing your flesh, while his other fisted his cock as your fingers dipped between your thighs. 

None of your lovers ever expressed desire to see you pleasure yourself, but Steve’s gaze was so heated you didn’t feel shy. Quite the opposite, somehow it felt so easy and natural; even more arousing as Steve licked his lips in unmasked hunger.

“Let me taste you. I bet you’re sweeter and richer than any honey.” 

You moaned, pushing two fingers inside and pumping them in and out a few times. When you brought your glistening digits to his lips, Steve licked them in a broad stroke of his tongue then took them into his mouth. His greedy sucking had your clit pulsing wildly.

“Delicious,” he hummed in delight, “and so ready for me, aren’t you?” 

Swiftly, he grabbed your hips and pulled you over his lap. Your gasp at the sudden movement and the feeling of his cock against your inner thigh combined with Steve’s loud groan of pleasure, when you gripped his antlers to steady yourself.

“That’s it. Keep touching them.” He urged you on as he slid you down his shaft. “It’s as if you were gripping my cock.”

“Nghh!” You keened, tightening your desperate hold on the antlers as your walls stretched around Steve’s girth. 

“Too big!” You whined, yet your hips followed the command of Steve’s hands as he guided you down. 

“Shh, my little fern. Take it. I know you can.” He was mercilessly forcing you down, moaning as your tight, hot walls enveloped him. “All your sweet holes will learn to take all of me.”

By the time he was buried to the root, you were shaking in pleasure. Your cheek was pressed to Steve’s, your breath coming out in jagged, hot puffs. Where your breasts were squished into the hard planes of Steve’s chest, it felt as if the filigree vines pulsing beneath his skin moved to tease your nipples. Steve’s hands were splayed on your hips, holding you in place as he savored the feel of your pussy around him. 

After a moment, he began rocking up into you and a few heartbeats later started bouncing you up and down his length. Soon your whimpers stretched into moans. Despite feeling boneless in his powerful hold, you also felt a surge of need to take from him as much as he was taking from your pliant body. 

You held Steve’s gaze as you straightened your back and started riding him; your fingers squeezing his antlers. 

When your climax hit, it was intense and unworldly. 

The first burst of it felt like falling into a cool mountain streak, only for the next tremors to fill you with heat and glow. Your head spinned and your moans and cries intertwined with small gasps of laughter. It was everything at once! Running with the wolves, picking fresh raspberries, twirling around in summer rain. 

And when Steve followed soon after, cumming with a loud roar, each spurt of his seed seemed to immerse you in hot springs. 

It was a rush of sensations; overwhelming, but addictive. 

When you met Steve’s gaze - both of you breathing heavily and still rocking into the continuous rhythm of aftershocks - you had no idea your irises bore first specks of inhuman green. All you knew was that you wanted more.

And so you demanded it.

Steve’s grin at your responsiveness was near predatory. He pinned you beneath him on the soft mossy pillows, placed your ankles over his shoulders and plunged into you in a hard thrust that had your scream echoing through the woods. 

Soon you’d be bound to him and the forest with every cell of your changing body. 

#aspensenchantedbday #buckets-and-trees #Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x you #Steve Rogers x female reader #Steve Rogers imagine #Steve Rogers fic #Leshy!Steve Rogers #leshy!Steve Rogers x reader #entwined

[antvnger]

*2.5 seconds later*

Oh uhhhh…

Thank you?

#ant mun is cackling #ask scott lang #scott lang #ant-man #anon asks #world’s greatest grandma #best dad in the mcu #ant man #antman

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Catherine Deneuve (Belle de Jour, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, The Young Girls of Rochefort)—Say what you will about the French but they really went off with Catherine Deneuve

Carol Channing (Thoroughly Modern Millie)—The original blonde that gentlemen prefer! Sang diamonds are a girl's best friend as a duet with Miss Piggy! She's bold and bright and she's got a big smile and she's funny! Her paternal grandma was black, something Carol was told by her mother at age 17 and publicly revealed in 2002.

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Carol Channing propaganda:

Hot and funny!

Catherine Deneuve propaganda:

"One of the greatest european actresses of all time. Famous for portraying 'aloof and mysterious beauties', she could play both the innocent and adorable and the cold and erotic parts. She was so beautiful she was chosen to be the face of Marianne, France's national symbol."

"She was a French movie star famous for icy and aloof roles and worked with some of the greatest international directors in the world (Jacques Demy, Luis Buñuel, and François Truffaut to name a few). She could kill you with her gaze and her bone structure should be studied by painters"

"One of the most famous of French actresses that has grace the film screen. She is just stunning and beautiful."

#carol channing #catherine deneuve #hotvintagepoll #ladies 1 #fuck that old woman

[coopers-hand]

your 6H and how you find comfort

TLDR: our 6H is responsible for our day to day lives, including our habits and routine. one thing about those is that through these repetitive actions people find the sense of familiarity, stability and comfort. the position of the ruler of this house will show you areas through which you may find this comfort❤️‍🩹 to gain more insight, look at the signs of both 6H and it’s ruler, as well as to your Moon and virgo-pisces axis! ٩(^‿^)۶

~ the position of your 6H ruler and how you find your sense of comfort

1H: pampering oneself, being pretty and comfy, and being well fed and having walked on their little walk, and their skin is moisturized and their nails are groomed — these people need to take care of themselves and their own body to feel comforted🍃

2H: those people may be the type of ppl that have their emotional support stuffed animal, or sweater, or coffee mug — anything, actually, that they can hold and touch and that has some physical weight to it. they may sleep with plushies and wear the same mittens their mom knitted for them centuries ago🧶☕️

3H: escaping to the books, movies, series, etc. — these ppl find the most comfort in stories and ways people share their thoughts with the world ✏️ so they may have their comfort piece of media that they keep coming back again and again

4H: sense of comfort is brought through the feeling of home and passed childhood. the perfume of their mother? that one sandwich they’ve been eating since they turned 5? that one pair of socks knitted by their grandma? you tell me 🥹 || I have my 6H ruler in here, and I find comfort in eating the same breakfast my mom was cooking for me when I was at school, so yeah…

5H: hobbies!! those people may be the ones that have been doing the same thing since childhood, like they’ve always been drawing with crayons, or collecting stickers, or crafting, or making little silly songs with their old electronic piano. they may find comfort in their old creative supplies, in their ancient watercolors they bought like in 7th grade, or in that one song that makes they soul dance itself out

6H: regime!! those people need to have their own familiar structure of life, even if this structure doesn’t make sense for everybody else. they need their morning walks, they need their sunday movie nights with that one person, they need to do this exact type of exercise bc it’s important for them and only they will get it.

7H: those people are about lifelong relationships, they may be one of the most devoted partners you can find. they find comfort in people they’ve been with since forever, they are feeling sure and good and comfy around their best friend that they’ve known for 20 years, that they’ve grown up with and that they share almost all of their life experiences with👭

8H: those people need their alone time. they need their sacred space, their little castle that nobody can invade and make them put on a human suit again. they find comfort in knowing that there’s completely no one around so that they can be so much and unapologetically alone and themselves.

9H: those people are the greatest optimists, that will not let the humanity destruct itself in the storm of hate and pessimism. those people always know that there’s hope, that the world is a good place to be in, that there’s joy and love and laughter and cool people and also little animals and big animals and flowers and so much more!! I love them so much omg sorry but those people literally save the world by finding their own sense of comfort😭

10H: another type of people that need the structure, but, on the contrary with 6H fellas, this is kind of an external structure. it may be a literal social institute that provides them with it (e.g. school, work, gym membership, language clubs??), or a kind of style of living that they accept to follow. those people may find comfort in knowing that they have their life together, in knowing what will happen tomorrow🏹

11H: those people crave the sense of belonging. they need to know that they are not alone in this world, that there’s at least another person on Earth that can say ‘hey! im here! I know how you feel’. the greatest sense of comfort for those people is knowing that they are understood.

12H: hello my lovely existentialists 🥰 for these people comfort may look like something unattainable, bc they are prone to existential dread every working day and holidays included. however, the sense of comfort is attained through daydreaming, sleeping and meditating — and also other 1000000 things that can be linked to sleep. I also have noticed that those people may need more sleep than others to stay healthy. so, remember — it’s not that the world hates you, maybe you just had very little sleep in the night💤

#6 house #astro observations #astroblr #astrology #natal astrology #ascendant #astro community #astro placements #astro posts #astro notes #astrology notes #astrology aspects #sun #moon #mercury #venus #mars #jupiter #uranus #neptune #pluto

[countdown-if]

"Countdown" is a slice-of-life inspired by "Gilmore Girls," and is rated 18+.

Three months ago, life took a sharp turn. Your mother found herself entangled in a situation so bad, she couldn't dig her way out of it, like usual. This time, the hole was way too deep. She needed help, and the only people capable of aiding her were the same ones she had vowed never to allow back into her life, let alone introduce to you and your younger sibling.

Who were they?

Your grandparents—a powerful and well-established duo.

In short, they did manage to help your mother back on her feet, but not without strings attached—never without strings.

Now, you're facing a senior year in a private school, fully funded by none other than grandma and grandpa, dearest. The only task at hand: do what your mother couldn't—graduate.

Form relationships, pursue your passions, burn bridges etc.,—the decision is entirely up to you.

🍁 Customise your MC (gender, style, personality etc...).

🍁 Choose 1 out of 3 part-time jobs (p.s. 'if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen' and pursue another in your new school!)

🍁 Choose your path. Are you aiming for a top Uni like Harvard next? Or maybe you'll step foot into the world of music? Rumour has it 'Crimson Haze' is looking for a new addition. What will it be?

🍁 Romance 1 out of 6 love interests.

🍁 A lot more in store!

Casey Decker (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

Your friendship goes way back to the nappy days. With both of your mothers on the younger end of the spectrum, it’s no surprise you grew to be close too—'best friends' type of close.

Casey is a ray of sunshine, full of life, and quite possibly the jelly to your peanut butter. They’re sweet like that—they can be, at least. But best friends should be just that: best friends. Besides, as of recently, Casey is taken.

Appearance: Medium-length, straight, golden blond hair covers the nape of their neck. They have slightly tanned skin, a sprinkle of freckles across their nose and cheeks, and grey eyes.

Lake Aydin (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

Lake has just started working at the grocery store nearby your house. High-school dropout, you assume. They don’t talk much…to you. Kind of a mystery, that one. Their social media confirms just that—there's not much to go by. 

Also, your first meeting wasn't the greatest or smoothest. But one thing's for sure: you'll be around there a lot, so you might as well get talking in the meantime, right?

Appearance: Dark brown eyes, pale skin, and short, straight black hair for m!L. For f!L, it's medium-length black hair. They wear glasses whenever they remember.

Harry/Hallie Johnson (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

H doesn't actually go to your school, but events are often organised as a collaboration between a handful of private schools, both of yours included. So yeah, you might see them around.

H is good at all of that—the networking, the galas, the fundraising, and public speaking part. They know what they want, and they have a resume to show for it. H is CC—charismatic and confident. They're who parents wish their kids would bring home, so needless to say, they've got your grandparents' stamp of approval.

Appearance: Deep brown skin, short tightly curled black hair for m!H, and a little longer than shoulder-length, tightly curled black hair for f!H. They have light brown eyes.

Santiago/Samara Garcia (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

S is an academic with tunnel vision for success. They're consistently at the top of the class, leading the ranks, and on a mission to become valedictorian.

What sets S apart from the majority, you might ask? They're one of the only two people who got into the private school solely based on merit. No mommy's or daddy's money, none of that. It's all about brains and drive.

And what about you? Are you a high achiever? If yes, expect a somewhat healthy rivalry. Heads up, though—S doesn't fail. If no, they'll look down on you, and they won't make any effort to hide that. It's a double-edged sword.

Appearance: They have wavy brunette, borderline black, nearly shoulder-length hair, tan skin, and hazel eyes. They also have three beauty marks: one above their left eyebrow, one right below the left corner of their lip, and one on the tip of their nose.

Riven/Raven Rodrigo (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

R is destined to be a superstar. Three years ago, R and 3 of their friends formed a band called 'Crimson Haze,' and it seems like all their hard work has finally paid off this summer. They've had a couple of gigs overseas, and they've done really well. They're on their way to major stardom, but first, they need to figure out a few things. Something's missing—perhaps a fifth and final member?

R is a passionate musician, a reckless friend, and a nonchalant lover. Music is their life. However, their love life is...unsteady. They don't do distractions, aka relationships; only fun.

Appearance: They have dyed jet-black hair, short messy waves for m!R, and long messy waves for f!R. They also have amber eyes and olive skin.

Nolan/Naya Brown (m/f) 🍁 [profile page]

N is the star athlete and the school's pride and joy. They have a lot of eyes on them, watching and expecting big things to come. On the court, they're a beast, but in class? Not so much. Their grades are below average, and if they want to keep competing for that full-ride scholarship, they need to bring their grades all the way up.

N is a typical cool and popular kid—playful, funny, and well-liked around the school. Whether they remember it or not, you share a history. You used to know N. FYI, they've been in a committed relationship for the past two and a half years.

Appearance: They have light brown skin in the winter and medium-brown skin in the summer. Their hair is dark brown, with short and loosely curled hair for m!N, and long and loosely curled dark hair for f!N.

DEMO TBA | FORUM

#countdown if #slice of life #interactive fiction #interactive novel #hosted games #choice of games #choicescript #cog #wip

[vs120shound]

Mother (right) and daughter sharing a cigarette together, consenting to a video in which they talk about their favorite drinks and smoking!

THE VIDEO OF THE WEEK 🚬 (SF HALL OF FAME) 🚬 NUMBER 3 IN THE SERIES!

For the Week of 091023-091623

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ + | Five-Plus "Stars"

From vs120shound staff | ★★★★★ (L)

REVISION/UPDATE: Mom here is called "Bobbi" by interviewer, Austin, the SM web-master/web producer. She is also known as Michelle Conners and Mechelle Montes. ID supplied by gtrtchr120. Correction: September 18, 2023 at 12:38 a.m. Bonus photos of Mom (Bobbi, Michelle, Mechelle) added at the bottom of the post.

By far one the greatest Mother-Daughter scenes in the Greater SF World Community's history. Easily. This is super cute daughter Christy (left) and her sparklingly pretty yet unidentified mother to her side. Mom's photo has been scrubbed from the SmokingModels (Florida, U.S.A.) models page. She was identified for years but we missed the boat on remembering, and that's a collective "My Bad!" without question. And let's not try to kid ourselves or any other SF aficionados for any reason, there have been plenty of sensational scenes with mothers sharing cigarettes with their daughters over the years. This IS our favorite among them! And we're not bashful about admitting the preeminent nature of this claim in our collective view! Not all will agree with this declaration, but some will say Christy and Mommy are deserving of being considered for that immense honor. Others will say, no, they're certainly not bad but there are so many others nearly as fine! We disagree with that position . . . and it is not No. 1 because of their knockout bodies, their sexiness and ample endowments each, although those obvious features only serve to enhance this video's appeal to SF aficionados!

. . . going the traditonal Bo Derek "1 to 10" rating, will say (no range here; just firm numbers for each) Christy is an 8.0 and gorgeous, elegant, sophisticated and mature Mom is a 9.0. We just don't know how they got to this point. Did mom sense that Christy was interested in her smoking and mom questioned her and agreed to help her into transitioning into becoming a smoker? Or did Christy simply say, "Hey, Mom, I'm interested in your smoking habit and I'd like to try it out." And from that point, Mom jumped in and said, "Great, Christy! I was wondering when you'd show interest in cigarettes, I was your age when Grandma showed me the ropes. Let me show you! Would you like to experiment with smoking? Or are you sure right now that you want to become a smoker as soon as possible? I can show you the right way to smoke like a lady." Mom should know; probably picked up the habit as a teenager some 20 years or so earlier.

Most likely it was one of those scenarios with slight modifications. Could have been, however, a case of Christy stealthily sneaking around and pilfering one or a few cigarettes at a time and trying it out, hoping those experimental cigarettes wouldn't be missed or that she'd be discovered? Or, finally, for another possiblity perhaps . . . Christy and some friends, or just Christy and her BFF, forged a pact to try to learn how to smoke together or they had already decided that's what they needed to do, to graduate into becoming full-time, addicted sexy smokers?

We know that hot, young Christy -- possibly as young as 13 or 14 y.o. or maybe as late as 16 or 17 y.o. or even at 18 -- certainly noticed how sexy her mom was when she was smoking, saw all the extra attention her mother got with her hot, seductive style with cigarettes. Young teenage daughters pick up on clues as to how to become more noticeable and sophisticated and more mature in their looks and behaviors. Smoking cigarettes is a sure-fire, great way to attain that ladylike appeal by others. They talk not so much about smoking in this long clip but more on their favorite alcoholic beverages. Young would-be smokers, and newbies to the habit, definitely sense and see the relationship between cigarettes and booze. They experiment; they learn; then they are hooked soon enough: Heavy smoking while drinking . . . chain smoking while binge drinking, when getting super drunk!

Added post-release, on Sept. 18, 2023 at 3:37 p.m.:

Here, in our classic video, Christy and "Bobbi" talk about fashion and style and what works as ensembles for them. Austin, the interviewer and web-master/web-producer for SmokingModels, floats the idea of searching for outfits on the cheap by going online and visiting E-bay! How revolutionary. That portion of the the nearly 8:56 of non-stop conversation dates this video

This post falls within SF Hall of Fame classification because for years by many SF aficionados this video has been considered to be a classic. It is a legendary, iconic video of Mothers-Daughters enjoying their love, friendship, camaraderie, common interests and time together all enhanced and accentuated by their shared habit of smoking cigarettes. Get the feeling that they tried . . . for years after this video was made and published by SmokingModels.com web-master/web producer Austin . . . and continued to try to have cigarettes at the same time, smoking them together. Doubt we are very wrong here, though we could be a tad off.

Re-posted: September 17, 2023

From vs120shound on August 26, 2022 . . .

Bonus photos of mom (Bobbi/Michelle/Mechelle) . . .

"That's her, mom. Just add 10 years on to how she appears in the video, putting "Bobbi" closer to 50 y.o. than the late-30s/early-40s that she might've been in the neighborhood during the time of the post's production and release on SmokingModels," -- vs120shound web-master/web producer

#SF #Hot women who love smoking cigarettes #Smoking cigarettes #Smoking #The Video of The Week (Honorable Mention)! #The Video of The Week (HoF) . . . Hall of Fame! #SmokingModels (Florida -- U.S.A.)! #Smoking interviews! #“Daughter” Christy!