#big thank you to my patrons for making them possible :)

[nevernonline]

✧.* he's not into you; hvc

synopsis: curious what the problem is in your dating life where you just can’t seem to get guys to commit fully to you beyond a second date, your work associate offers his help.

part of my ninety minute movies one shot series. ♡︎

paring: vernon x fem! reader.

genre: co-workers2friends2lovers (? lmao)

warning/s: mentions of substances (alcohol, weed, cig, vape etc.) swearing, very bad jokes!, sexy time (y/n has female genitalia!) pls no minors!!

word count: 6.3k

content: . non-idol idolings, some other svt members. y/n and vernon work at a bar.

note: our next stop in my fav little movie inspired writings is he's just not that into you!! a true classic in my eyes. and who better to be our male lead than bernon himself, a perfect silly goofy man. i acc tried to edit and be good?? for once.. lmao. love u xo. HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Waltzing around your co-workers behind the bar like a choreographed dance, handing out drinks to some of your familiar customers, soaking cherries in alcohol, and stuffing your tips inside of your folder for the night it was a perfect distraction from the thoughts running through your mind about that awful date you had gone on the night before. 

You were convincing yourself all the guys you’ve been out with just weren’t for you, maybe to make yourself feel better, maybe just to put blame on someone else for the reasons you can’t seem to surpass a second date. 

“Y/N, could I get two vodka martinis. One dirty and one with a twist, twice shaken please.” 

“No problem, Som.” 

Somi was one of your co-workers and someone you’ve become close friends with working with her over the course of a year when the bar first opened. standing by your side on  the busiest night of the week, the other was Vernon,  he was slightly newer and unfamiliar standing next to you behind the bar, girls flirting with him left, right and center hoping to crack open his quiet yet charming exterior. 

Taking orders upon orders your body was craving a moment to yourself, being an introvert and working in a high volume environment with the type of company that spends hundreds of dollars a night just to sit at a table and feel important takes a toll on you. 

“Vernon, would you be cool if I stepped outside for a second?” 

“Yeah, no problem. I’m good.” 

“Alright, thanks I’ll be back in five.” 

“Sounds good.” 

Nothing more than his simple answers, for the most all you know about him is he’s your age, in college not sure what major he could possibly be studying, and he lives decently close to the bar, coming in on his days off with groups of his friends to have a drink of his own made at your own hands. 

Stepping outside the employee entrance into the back of the building, feeling the cool air light up your body, you decided to light up something of your own, a small perfectly rolled cigarette wrapped up in its signature strawberry flavored paper and vanilla tobacco inside. 

Three minutes into your first break of the night, the door slid open revealing the quiet boy standing in its frame. 

“Shit. I’m sorry, I actually need your help. A big group of finance dudes came in.” 

“It’s alright, I’ll save it for later.” 

Dipping the pastel candy like cigarette into the ashtray, basically kissing it and saying you’ll see it soon, you stepped back in with Vernon to your front strolling through the back room full of fresh liquor bottles. 

“This is a weird question. But what were you smoking? It smells good. Actually, normally cigarettes make me nauseous as hell.” 

“Oh. It’s a vanilla tobacco, but my rolling papers are strawberry so it’s kind of sweeter that way.” 

“No wonder. I always thought you smelt like vanilla musk, but I knew it was something different. I just assumed it was perfume. I like it.” 

“Thanks, Vern.” 

“Yeah. Want to take the table? Or wait for them to come up to us?” 

“I’ll go.” 

“Alright.” 

Cutting around the marble countertop, trying to avoid the patrons sitting at the end of the bar. You spot the group of men wearing their fancy suit jackets, and various colors of button down tops. One of them in particular was your date from a few weeks ago. The one who left you a post it note on your nightstand to wake up to basically telling you he wouldn’t call but thanks for the fuck. 

Swilling your pride, you stayed walking towards them, now with the pretty smile usually wiped across your face lost and turned into a closed lip grin. 

“Hey, what can I get for you guys?” 

“I’ll take you with a side of bourbon on the rocks please.” 

“Clever. I’m not on the menu. Anything for you.” 

Your fingers pointed towards the rest of the helm just patiently waiting for more unusual comments and weird flirting tactics. 

Your date though, kept his head buried in his menu, avoiding making eye contact with you out of his own embarrassment making you decide to fuck with him a little in front of his annoying crowd of friends. 

“And anything for you, Chris? Jack Daniels and Coke with a splash of cherry I presume? Or are you going to write your order down on a post it note?” 

His crowd erupted in laughter, clearly aware of his tactics when he leaves girls and decides to not call them back.

He muttered back it was fine as you walked off back to Vernon watching on with a smirk on his face. 

“You know him I assume?” 

“Unfortunately I do.” 

“Can I ask how?” 

You contemplated telling him a lie, just something simple like he was an old friend or an ex-boyfriend, but in order to keep him from opening up to you, you chose the real reason. 

“Actually we went out a few weeks ago. In the morning I woke up to a note taped to my pillow saying how he wasn’t interested in seeing me anymore but thanking me for being a good fuck and being so accommodating and sexy.” 

“No fucking way.” 

“I’m not kidding.” 

“Want me to spit in his drink?” 

“Yes. But I don’t want you to lose your job. It’s alright, not the first time for me unfortunately and actually maybe one of the nicer ones.” 

“Not the first time a dude you’ve fucked wrote you a note saying he’s not into you?” 

“There’s been worse believe it or not.” 

“You’ve piqued my interest.” 

“I’m sure.” 

“How do you meet dudes like that?”

“I’m a lucky girl, now do me a favor and take these drinks to them, because if I do I’ll probably say some shit I’ll regret.” 

“Alright. What’s his name?” 

“Who?” 

“Asshole over there.” 

“Chris” 

“Cool. Thanks.” 

“Vernon why?” 

“No reason, keep working.” 

“Don’t do anything stupid.” 

“My whole vibe is stupid, be back in a second.” 

Watching the boy out of the corner of your eye, you watched as he placed everyone’s drinks for them, reaching Christopher last, pretending to trip over his chair, spilling the alcoholic concoction over his pants. 

“Dude what the fuck?” 

“Oh shit, my bad. Let me get you a new one.” 

“Why the fuck are you so clumsy, how am I going to get a girl here when I look like I pissed myself?” 

“The girls that come in here don’t want some bitch who drinks cherry whiskey and Coke, they like real men. But I’ll be back in a second.” 

“What the fuck did you just say?” 

“You heard me, man. One second alright I’ll be back with your bitch drink.” 

Chris’s friends seem to be enjoying watching his night being turned into a shit storm, assuming they maybe don’t enjoy his company much either. 

“Why did you do that?” 

“He seems like a tool, he’ll be fine.” 

“Well thank you. It was funny, I had to hold my laughter in so he doesn’t think I made you do that for me.” 

“Safe bet.” 

Your night continued on until midnight when all the happy and drunk patrons exited the restaurant and you got to cleaning up the bar space, leaving you, Vernon, and Somi alone in the dimly lit room. 

“Vernon? Want to stay and have a drink as a thank you for helping me out. Somi would but she has to get back to her ball and chain.” 

“Are we allowed to do that?” 

“Well my dad owns the place, I don’t think he cares much.” 

“You’re dad? Wait what the fuck, I never put that together.” 

“Yeah. Him and his friends.” 

“Holy shit.” 

Laughing along with Somi at his amazement, you bid her goodbye before sliding into a bar top table, holding the glass of vodka in your well manicured fingers. 

Much to your surprise your more than shy coworker decided to stay with you sliding in next to you holding his own glass of beer. 

“So wait. I’m confused. Your dad and his friends opened the bar. Why do you want to work here?” 

“Easy. I always liked the idea of being a bartender and my parents would kill me for being a kid who didn’t have a job or work ethic and just using their money.” 

“Got it. Aren’t you in school?” 

“ I haven’t decided what to go for yet so I’m taking some time. Not sure yet. You?” 

“Journalism.” 

“For real? That’s cool as hell.” 

“Yeah.” 

Your phone lit up on the table blasting the ringtone really loudly in between you and Vernon, flashing the name Matthew on the screen. 

“Hey. Yeah, this is her. Oh really? Can you hold on just ONE second. Thanks.” 

Vernon waved you along letting you go on with the conversation with the guy who's been taking you on dates for the past week, curious why he’d be calling you late. 

 “Wait since I’m out of the loop, who was that?” 

“You really want to know?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, so his name is Matt. We met at the coffee shop a few weeks ago. He was cute. He paid for my drink and we just sort of hit it off.” 

“Have you guys slept together?” 

“Yeah. The first day we met.” 

“Y/N no. You’ve got to make these guys wait. Like they’re getting exactly what they want from you before you even know if they’re fucking idiots or not.” 

“Really? Does that actually work though? I mean you heard him say he likes his ex there’s nothing I can change about that?” 

“Did you ask when his last relationship was before you guys started dating?” 

“Yeah he said he’d been single for two months.” 

“Two months? And he’s already back with her? Or was he always seeing her when you guys were together? What kind of dates did you go on? Dinner? Or?” 

“Coffee sometimes, then he’d just come hangout at my place most of the time.” 

“So you never went to his?” 

“No.” 

“So he was cheating on his girlfriend with you?” 

“What? No, he said he was single.” 

Vernon ran his hands through his hair and let out a sigh before looking back at you. 

“You guys met for coffee, you’d have him over to your place during the day, you’d have sex and he’d leave? You never saw his apartment? He just confessed that he’s been seeing his so-called ex over the phone the whole time you guys were quote on quote dating. He definitely lives with her and was fucking you for fun. You weren’t dating.” 

“Speaking from experience, Vernon?” 

“No. I’ve only ever dated one person seriously.” 

“So why are you giving me advice about my dating life?” 

“Because I had a successful five year relationship and you’ve had none? And you seem to need it.” 

“Wow. I would normally be pissed, but you’re right. I can’t seem to tell what I’m  doing wrong actually. Maybe I'm destined to be single.” 

“Not true. You’re pretty, nice, and you’ve got a cool ass life. You’ll be fine, you just need some editing maybe.” 

“So what? You want to be my relationship guru? Or?” 

“Yes.” 

You outstretched your hand to his and he shook it for you, confirming your now partnership where he would help you with your dating life. 

“Wait, before we go further. Try this.” 

Lifting the straw to your lips for you, Vernon offered you a sip of the drink he made.

“Wait, that's good, what is that?” 

“That assholes drink.” 

“I hate that I actually fucking like it.” 

“Me too.” 

You and Vernon spend the rest of your night together shooting the shit and getting to know each other more, once two am rolls around you both decide to head out and walk home. 

“This is me.” 

Much to your surprise Vernon swipes his key card to enter the same building as you. 

“Wait, you live here? How come I’ve never seen you in the building?” 

“I just moved in like three weeks ago. I spend most of my time in my apartment with my cat if I'm not at school or work.” 

“What floor?” 

“Seven.” 

Pressing the number seven on the elevator button before you tapped number thirteen, you and Vernon rode silently up to your separate homes. 

Before stepping off onto his floor, he pressed the hold door button.

“Come over tomorrow around six? I know you have the night off so we can hangout or whatever.” 

“Okay. What should I wear?” 

“You’ll figure it out. You always look nice. Casual is fine.” 

Rolling your eyes to his back as he strode off to his front door, you yelled a goodnight out of the door before they clocked shit and ran you up to your own place. 

Waking up the next morning you stepped out of your bed and pulled out all the ingredients to make a perfect cup of coffee, something that was like a religious ritual for you to clear your head before starting your day. 

After the brew was finished dripping though your pour over carafe you decided to take in some sun on your balcony and prepare your mind for the rest of the day until you were set to get ready to hangout with Vernon. 

The unexpected invitation to go on a quote in quote fake date with the boy had your head confused. What should you wear? What should you do with the little information given to you about what’s going on? 

After spending a few hours outside with your coffee and disconnecting from your phone, you decided to head back inside and go through your closet in search of the perfect casual outfit. 

Placing options on your bed, you hopped into the shower and spent time under the hot steam scrubbing your body from head to toe. After you were satisfied with your cleanliness, you stepped out and sat at your vanity, drying your hair and curling the front two pieces of your perfectly done up-do, painted your nails a perfect cherry red color, and put on your typical makeup look. 

Sliding your slippers back on you stood now in front of the three tops hanging in front of you feeling them for the perfect vibe. Eventually selecting a simple white button down top to match your gray pleated short skirt, slipping up a pair of simple tights and black heeled knee high boots. 

Finally the time came for you to run down seven floors and step off to find Vernon, knocking on the door to the left of the elevator a woman who you’ve seen around the building once or twice answered. 

“I’m sorry, I think maybe I have the wrong apartment. Excuse me-“ 

“You’re y/n?” 

“Yes. Hi.” 

“Hi, I’m Vernon’s friend Chae. I like your outfit, it's super cute.” 

“Oh. Thank you.” 

Stepping into the similar shaped apartment to yours, you notice the colorful paintings all over the walls, the beautiful soft blue couch, and the cozy smell of fresh linen hitting your nose, as you walked in further you saw a group of various people sitting around in his living room, some pouring themselves drinks, some standing around eating snacks and talking. 

“Would you like water or a beer or anything?” 

“Oh no, I’m alright for now thank you.” 

“No problem, I’ll just go see what he’s up to. Excuse me.” 

“Sure.” 

After waiting five minutes in the threshold of Vernon’s front entry, he peeled around the corner, dressed in an oddly similar outfit to yours, minus the heels and mini skirt. 

His crisp white shirt and matching gray coat and pants, a black leather bag, carrying a pair of nice black sneakers in his hand. 

“Hey, sorry I accidentally spilled cola on my other shirt, I had to change.” 

“That’s alright. I like your outfit though, you look cool.” 

“Thank you, I like yours too. I told you about casual dress though.” 

“This is casual?” 

“If you say so. Want a cocktail or something?” 

“Uh, sure? Wait though I thought we were going out or something, I didn’t know you had company. I can leave?” 

“No. Well, we’re going out a little later to a party,  I wanted to invite you, come on.” 

You stepped into his kitchen where he had various types of alcohol scattered on the counter, next to slices of pizza and a couple bags of chips. 

You looked around the room at the new faces, some of them you recognized from Vernon bring them to the bar with him. 

“Want the asshole special again? I actually made myself one.” 

“Weirdly I do, yeah.” 

Vernon laughed as he mixed you the same concoction he spilled the night before, handing it over to you gracefully. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yeah, no problem. This is a weird question, but did you roll any of your cigarettes or have any of those cute papers you use? I told my friend about them and he wanted to find some to roll a joint with.” 

Digging through your bag you pulled out the small case full of tobacco and papers from inside, holding out the pack to him to give to his friend, someone who you’re sure you’ll meet at one point or another. 

“Wow. Thank you.” 

“It’s cool, I have a bunch anyway. So, what does this have to do with you being my relationship guru anyway?” 

“Nothing actually. Just wanted to hangout with you more.” 

“Oh, right.” 

Something about Vernon being so kind to you and sticking up for you last night and today was making you see him in a different light almost like you were starting to have a crush on him. But he could never be into you that way, especially seeing how he interacted with his friend Chae. 

Walking around his apartment and saying hello to his friends, you chose a seat adjacent to the couch, one that was unoccupied and slightly out of the way. 

Some of his friends knew who you were without you even having to mention it. Talking and getting to know them. You excused yourself to the bathroom, but stumbled upon a room adorned with movie posters and music equipment. 

“The bathroom is right here.” 

Vernon pointed to the unlatched door down the hall, the same position as yours. 

“I know. I live here too. I was just being nosy.” 

“Oh. That's cool, you can check it out if you want.” 

Stepping into his office space, you smiled looking around at his various media and collectables, staring at the framed record on the wall signed by an artist you like yourself. 

“This is yours?” 

“Yeah. I got it as a birthday present when I was like eighteen. I love it.” 

“Sick.” 

“Sick? You’re so weird. Do people say that shit still?” 

“Fuck off. People definitely still say that.”  

“Not cool people.” 

“You literally told me I was cool yesterday?” 

“I spoke too soon.” 

As you and Vernon were standing in his room laughing, Chae appeared behind you both without your knowledge and gripped Vernon’s side, scaring the both of you with his reaction and finding her laughing her ass off. 

“You should have seen your guys’ faces. It was too easy.” 

“You’re such an asshole, I almost hit you.” 

“I’d like to see you try, big boy.” 

You just smiled, feeling a little awkward watching Vernon flirting with his friend.

“We want to head out, are you guys ready?” 

“I’m good, I think Y/N had to use the restroom though?” 

“Yeah. It’s okay, I think I might just head back to my place. I have a headache, but you guys have fun.” 

“No way, come on, take some tylenol and let's go.” 

“Chae. Let her leave if she doesn't feel good.” 

“She obviously wants to leave because she found your weird collection of fucking disney vhs tapes, not because of her headache.” 

“Not true.” 

“It’s fine. I’ll come, just let me use the restroom fast. I’ll meet you.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.” 

Leaving you to do your business, Chae handed you two small white pills from her bag, and a swig of her beer to wash them down with before heading behind Vernon as they got ready to leave for the next location. 

After a few minutes  of walking you and Vernon’s friends  pulled up outside a bar you’ve never been to but heard a lot of your friends enjoyed, amply titled Love Bites.  

Vernon held onto your shoulders and walked you into the front door of the bar, pushing you towards a table where he told you to sit down and wait, as he walked away and left you with his friend to order everyone a round of drinks. 

The seat next to you that you’d hoped Vernon would fill was taken by a dark haired boy you hadn’t recognized from earlier back at the apartment. 

“Y/n? Hi, I’m Joshua. 

“Oh. Hi, nice to meet you.” 

“Vernon’s friend just so you don’t think I’m some random dude.” 

“Right. I figured.” 

“Actually I was the one who asked for the papers, thank you by the way.” 

“Yeah, no problem. Do you smoke? Like weed or?” 

“Yeah, just weed. I used to smoke cigarettes and vape for a while or whatever, but I stopped for a while. I just realized it was a boring habit.” 

“How’d you know I had strawberry papers, did Vernon tell everyone?” 

“No, no. He just said you were cool. Very friendly, but you didn’t talk about yourself enough and that you have nice smelling cigarettes that you smell like sometimes. Nothing too much really.”

“Oh. No dirty details about my weird dating life he pressed me about?”  

“Nothing about that, but he knows about my awful habits too. He always tells me I need serious help.”

“Yes. Me too, I called him a relationship guru.” 

“He thinks he is, but he’s had a crush on the same girl for a while. I'm not sure who she is, he never told me anything more about it. I’m not sure he’s the guy I’d trust to set me up that's for sure.” 

“Oh really? Is it, you know?” 

You pointed with your eyes across the table to Chae who was seated next to Vernon’s side. 

“I don’t think so. She’s definitely been in love with him forever, they were friends when they were kids and rekindled a few years ago when she moved back to town. She's really obvious about it, but he never said anything.” 

“Ah, I don’t know he seems to flirt with her alot.” 

“He’s just like that with everyone, overly friendly, kind of dorky.” 

“I see that.” 

You spent the entire night talking and getting to know Joshua, surprisingly finding out a lot of things that made you more and more intrigued about him. 

When the night finally came to a close, you left with his number and a plan to go out with just the two of you a few days later. Maybe Vernon being your friend was going to pay off more than you knew and his relationship guru advice brought you right into the hands of his very good friend. 

In the next few weeks you continued working and getting to know the pervious shy boy you thought Vernon was and going on actual good dates with his friend Joshua, who much to your surprise wasn’t the type to fuck you and forget you on a first date. 

Months passed by as your casual dating with Joshua went on and on, thinking that while it was good something with him was missing. But, you kept giving him a chance anyway. Unaware what that something was. 

On a night where you were getting ready to go out for a date you found Vernon outside of your apartment door, knocking on it wildly waiting for you to come and answer. 

“Is everything alright?” 

“Y/n.” 

“Want to come in?” 

“No. Yes? Is that alright?” 

“Are you okay? You’re acting weird as hell.” 

Vernon just nodded his head and sat down on your couch. 

“Are you getting ready to head out? You look really nice. I feel like I’m interrupting something.” 

“No. I just got home from a date actually. Why?” 

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” 

“It would help if you stopped saying sorry and told me what was wrong.” 

“Chae.” 

“Oh?” 

“She was over at my apartment. We were just playing video games and having some beer or whatever, but she tried to kiss me. And I let her at first, but I didn’t want to kiss her. I never have. I know she’s pretty and whatever, but like..” 

“Wait. So why did you come up here?” 

“Because I didn’t know what else to do? She’s still downstairs, she said she won't leave until we talk about what happened and she’s crying. I tried to tell her I wasn’t interested in her romantically and I liked being her friend, but she won’t take no for an answer. I just didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry I interrupted your nice night like this.” 

You walked over into the kitchen and poured Vernon a glass of water to hopefully settle him from rambling so much. 

“Can I ask you why you aren’t interested in her? I always assumed you guys had something going on.” 

“No. Never. She’s not my taste, I mean she’s really cool. But we’re really similar and I don’t want to date someone who reminds me too much of myself otherwise I’d get bored, but never break it off maybe because I’m too nice or maybe because I feel too comfortable. Does that make any sense?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Plus, I told her I liked someone else anyway and she got even more upset. She started accusing me of being a liar and leading her on.” 

“I’ll be honest and when I first met her I thought you liked her too, but the more I got to know you I realized you pretty much act that way around everyone you’re comfortable with.” 

“Right.” 

“Want me to help you get her out of your apartment?” 

“You would?” 

“Yeah. I still owe you for spilling that drink a long time ago.” 

“My god, no you don’t” 

“Shh, in my heart I do. Are you staying here or coming?” 

“I’ll come.” 

Heading down the elevator still in your nice date outfit, you grabbed his keys and unlocked his front door to find Chae still sitting on his couch, waiting for him to come home. 

Looking her up and down you found her dressed in shorts two sizes too small with Vernon’s T-Shirt draped over her body. Clinging to his pillow and looking you up and down. 

“What the fuck is she doing here, Vernon? She’s not a part of this at all.” 

“Actually, I’m here to ask you to politely get the fuck out of his apartment and stop making him feel bad for not liking you.” 

“You’re such a bitch, he does like me. The person he doesn’t like is you, so maybe you should get the fuck out of here. He just feels sorry for you.” 

“Chae, that’s not true and don’t talk to her like that.” 

“You’re actually defending her? She hasn’t been nice to me once since she met me. She just acts like an entitled brat around me all the time, making me feel stupid. She’s not a part of this conversation at all, don’t you understand how insane this is?” 

“She is a part of it actually, because she’s the girl I have a crush on and if I wasn’t so focused on making everyone else around me happy at the price of myself I would’ve been able to tell her that already instead of doing it like this.” 

“Verno-” 

“Her? You fucking like her? Seriously? She told me she never would date someone like you and that you’re dorky and a loser.” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? That’s never happened. You’re the one who parades around making me feel like an idiot and that I'm not good enough to be friends with Vernon. You know who’s being an entitled brat? You. You’re kicking this poor guy out of HIS apartment for not liking you back like a child, you’re sitting on his couch in HIS clothes, waiting for him to come back to you to try to pressure him into being with you when he told you he likes someone else. If you’re such a good ass friend to him like you constantly claim to be, then maybe be that good friend and get the hell up, give him his shirt back and get the fuck out or you can talk to him like the adult that you are and try to understand how he feels and continue being his friend. If you don’t like either option I don’t know what else to tell you. So, what will it be?” 

“If I talk to him, you need to get the fuck out of here, I don’t want you around.” 

“Fine with me, but stop being such an insufferable bitch and maybe have some compassion. Goodnight.” 

Not wanting to wait around for the elevator, you slammed Vernon’s door shut leaving them to have their conversation and walked up the seven flights of stairs back into your cozy home untainted by her bad energy. 

Hours later after you were showered and ready to destress from the absolute chaos your night has been, you poured yourself a glass of wine and sat on your to smoke a nicely rolled joint as a treat to yourself, leaving your phone inside your room and out of your eyesight. 

Suddenly mid-inhale another knock came to your door, half of you wanted to pretend you were asleep, but another part of you assumed whoever it was must have an issue with you smoking inside your home. 

Looking through the peephole of your front door, you saw for the second time in the night Vernon standing outside, now in his plaid pj pants and a hoodie pacing around waiting for you to answer. 

Taking in a deep breath you opened the door and took one look at his messy hair, realizing he must have been trying to sleep, but couldn’t. 

“Yes?” 

“Can I come in?” 

“Be my guest. Sorry I’m smoking weed inside, it smells weird.” 

“Can I have a hit actually?”

“Sure.” 

“Thanks.” 

Handing over the pink flower, Vernon took an incredibly long hit of the weed, exhaling it creating a cloud over the two of you. 

“Wine?” 

“Uh, not yet. Can I confess something to you?” 

“Is it about the girl you like?” 

“Sorry you had to find out like that. I was planning on telling you, but then you started seeing Josh and whatever else it just got away from me, it wasn’t the right time I know. I just let it slip.” 

“It’s okay, Vernon” 

“It’s not, especially when you’re not single. I feel like I ruined any relationship we had with saying it, even our platonic one.” 

“When you talked about ruining my nice night before? Didn’t you wonder why I was coming home from a date at 7:00pm? It was because I actually just broke it off with Joshua. He was really nice about it of course, but I just felt like we were friends and nothing more.” 

“Oh. So you’re not?” 

“Dating him? No.” 

“So I didn’t ruin it?” 

“My night? Not at all, it wasn't that great anyway.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah.” 

Vernon took the opportunity to steal your glass of wine and downed it right then and there whispering a small sorry to you for doing so. 

“Okay, so. I knew I liked you the moment we started working together. I wasn’t sure how to tell you ever, I wasn’t even sure how to talk to you because you made me feel so awkward, not because you were mean or anything, just because I knew I’d sound like a fucking dumb ass. But, that night we first walked home together and had a drink. I found out so much about you, I liked you even more so I asked you to come and hangout with us at my place, I figured I could get some courage to finally ask you out, which ultimately I failed at again and it just spiraled out of control. It’s just gotten more and more bad for me, like bad in the sense I just can’t stop falling for you and you didn’t know. Until I essentially fucked it up further telling you I like you infront of Chae, which was a mistake too. I keep fucking it up.” 

“You're doing pretty good if you ask me, but you should’ve just told me a long time ago then none of this crazy shit would have happened.” 

“That's charming, no?” 

“Only because it's you.” 

“Look, I don’t need an answer from you now or ever, just know I wont be fucking weird about it anymore. I’ll let you go to bed. I’ll see you in a few days at work and everything will be good.” 

Vernon got up and tried to walk towards your front door for an exit, but you caught up to him in time, grabbing him by his shoulders and spinning him around just in time to plant a perfectly placed kiss on his pink lips. 

“I like that you’re fucking weird and for your information I admire your dumb vhs tape collection.” 

Vernon took his opportunity to kiss you again, even longer this time than the first one, pushing his tongue into your mouth, making you moan as his hands snaked their way around your body. 

“You taste like vanilla too.” 

“Nice?” 

“Perfect.” 

“Would us having sex count as us fucking on the first date?” 

“This would be considered fucking before the first date.” 

“Ah, I see. Is that a no-no?” 

“I’ll let it slide.” 

Vernon lifted you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his long torso, and carried you onto your couch, setting you down to be perfectly face to face with his enclosed penis, now beginning to grow inside of his pants. Dipping your fingers into the waistband of his pants you grazed the tips of your fingers over the head of his dick, making him shiver from the cold touch of your hands. 

Unwrapsping him like a present, his penis flew from his waistband and you quickly wrapped your lips around the soft pink skin, slightly creating a suction cup with your lips as his hands found their way to the back of your head and he fucked your face gently. 

As his speed picked up, the head of his dick was pounding its way to the back of your throat making him weak in the knees and unsure how much longer he could go on like this without relieving himself inside of your mouth. 

In order to savor this moment further, he against his better judgment pulled you off of him and got on his knees in front of you, running a finger down your neck, placing soft kisses on your lips and all the way down to your sternum, his fingers following along. 

Pushing over your panties to the side he ran those same fingers up and down your wet center, making you moan and push onto him, begging for him to put them inside of you without many words. 

When he was finally done teasing you, he placed his first two fingers at the entrance and ran his thumb over your clit making you squirm and let out a small moan, trying to grind your way further onto him. 

With the same speed as before he started pumping his fingers into your wet center, crawling his way into your body and making you overwhelmed with pleasure. 

Suddenly he was four fingers deep stretching you out as a preparation for you to be comfortable fucking his much larger dick when suddenly you squirted all over his bare chest, slinking back onto the couch in a fit of heavy breathing. 

Vernon didn’t let you off the hook though, he grabbed onto you hips, carrying you onto the floor under him. Finally fucking you through your previous orgasm, riding into the sensitive waters of your clit, softly sucking on your nipples as he slowly thrusted himself onto you, almost like it was the only way to cure the aching in your center. 

As the sweat and your bodily fluids mix their way together, the heavy breathing slowed to near silence, watching him in ecstasy fucking into you, noticing the beauty of the way his eyelashes ran across his cheeks and the small light gold flecks in his eyes. He’s never been more beautiful to you than he was tonight. 

Suddenly in your daze his lips came onto yours before he slightly lifted them off of you to whisper while they still grazed over the top. 

“Can I come inside?” 

“Please.” 

And with your verbal confirmation Vernon filled up your body with his semen and rode into his very own orgasm as well. 

Kissing you once again he got up and ran into your bathroom to grab a clean towel for you both to clean up with and laid back down next to you on the floor. 

Suddenly the two of you erupted into laughter, just thinking about how stupid you both were to see chemistry between you was about as hot as the sex you both indulged in. 

“I can’t believe you were going to leave.” 

“I can’t believe I thought you weren’t into me.” 

“Who said I wasn’t lying?” 

“The way you were moaning and fucking into me told me all I needed to know.” 

“Ok, hot shot.” 

“So about that first date?” 

“It’s on.” 

#❃ - duffytalks #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen headcanons #seventeen x reader #svt reactions #seventeen imagines #svt fic #svt texts #seventeen smut #seventeen au #seventeen angst #seventeen fic #svt fanfic #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt smut #vernon x reader #vernon x you #vernon x y/n #seventeen vernon x reader #seventeen x oc #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #svt x oc #svt x you #svt x y/n #svt ff #seventeen oneshot

[buckyalpine]

Catch Me If You Can 1/3

Mob!Bucky x Single mom police officer Reader 

This is a crack fic, ridiculousness, cuteness, angstttt. 

Warnings: Kidnapping, fluffffff, single mom reader, crappy ex, Mob Bucky is a whole ass warning 

LMK how you feel about these 2 

Part 2

Part 3

-

The plan was simple. Not the most ideal, not the first thing the mob boss would have planned to but desperate times called for desperate measures. He needed this shipment to go through and he was done being patient. 

“We gotta move quick” Bucky murmured, driving slowly behind the target, the dark windows of the SUV making it impossible to see who was inside. As soon as the traffic light turned red, they stopped the truck, swinging the doors open and stepping in front of their mark. 

“Hey! What are you-” 

“Shh, just get in the car” Bucky towered over him, his face stern, cocking an eyebrow at the big eyes that stared up at him. Sam and Steve were by his side with equally stoic expressions, nodding to the open door, their hostage reluctantly getting into the backseat with an annoyed huff. They drove to Bucky’s club, target in tow as they made their way to the office, strange looks exchanged by patrons, looking at Bucky’s latest captive. 

Steve shut the door while Bucky strode across the room to answer a call, breathing a sigh of relief hearing the deal had gone off without a hitch. Nothing had been seized and the deal was set, thanks to his last minute decision. He reached for a crystal decanter, pouring a glass of whiskey for himself when a voice caught his attention. 

“Why am I here” Bucky turned around to face all 4 feet, 2 inches of his hostage, little furrowed brows knitted in the middle, arms crossed with his chest puffed out, a heavy bookbag making his solid stance a little wobbly. “Is this because my mommy wants to put you in jail?” Bucky nearly choked on his whisky while Steve snorted, doing a poor job to mask his laugh. “I can see why. Kidnapping is against the law” 

By this point, both Sam and Steve were nearly on the floor, attempting to keep their stoic expressions on by covering their mouths, covering their laugh with a cough. Bucky raised a brow, not sure if he was insulted or impressed at the sass and lack of fear the 8 year old had. None of them were exactly fans of anything that involved children. It was an unspoken rule; children were always left untouched. He had to break that rule this time though, knowing if things had gone south, it would have led to a gang war which would have been far worse than the stunt he just pulled kidnapping a police offers son. 

Police officer. 

Bucky had most of the justice system and law enforcement at his fingertips, all happily bowing to his bidding, letting his deals and illegal activities slip under the radar. Most were more than happy to comply with what he asked. Most were happy to turn a blind eye. 

Except the departments newest officer. 

The absolute bane of his very existence.

The only person who had actually ever managed to get him arrested though he was quickly released; no one else wanting to get on his bad side by actually pressing charges. 

But you refused to back down.

At first Bucky brushed it off, figuring you’d get with the program and eventually quieten down but no. You were constantly there, making his job more difficult than it had to be, your irritatingly righteous need to keep the city free of gang activity driving him up the wall. 

The last straw was a few weeks ago when he had set up an arms deal with the East side of the city, an exchange of weapons, but more importantly, a possible alliance between groups. Things going successfully would mean more protection for both the North and East and stronger joint front. You had managed to track communication between the groups, readying a team to shut down the exchange, ignoring the warnings you got from the mob boss. 

Bucky was done playing nice. 

It was more than the police just showing up. His power meant everyone listened to him. No one, not even the law disobeyed or strayed from his word. A single officer looking to take him down would have shown weakness; that he didn’t have all the control he should have. Weak links were unacceptable.

Which lead to his plan.

To hold onto your son for awhile so you’d abandon the plan you’d put together, none of your colleagues willing to stop anything on their own, everyone retreating far away from the deal while it took place. 

And it worked. 

He had managed to take your son while he was on his way home from school and you had been informed of his location. Everything else went smoothly; problem solved. Still, nothing prepared him for how unbothered and how at ease his little captive would be. 

“I’m guessing you’re the man mommy calls -” Your son blinked at Bucky, chewing his lips, thinking for a moment before continuing. “She says I can’t use those words. I’m gonna call you Uncle Bucky” He shrugged, plopping onto the chair, grabbing one of Bucky’s fountain pens, proceeding to doodle on a notepad on the desk. 

“You-you can’t-” For the first time in his life Bucky found himself speechless, looking incredulously at the little boy proceed to draw, the mop of dark brown hair on his head, covering his eyes slightly. 

“It’s Mr. Barnes” He muttered, while your son tossed his book bag off to grab a comic book that was inside, drawing a character that was on the cover. 

“It’s Jordan” your son replied, now fully focused on his Batman cartoon. 

“I like this kid” Steve half wheezed while Bucky stared at the little thing in front of him, his lips struggling to stay in a firm line, the corners itching to tug up into a smile. 

“Mommy said you’re a bad man” He piqued, looking at the mob boss from the corner of his eye, “I can’t say you did yourself any favors today Mr. Uncle Bucky” 

Before Steve and Sam could full on belly laugh, your panicked voice carried through the bar, nearing the office. 

“Jordan? Jordan!”  The office doors slammed open to your frantic face, running over to your little one as soon as your eyes landed on him, scooping him in your arms, “Baby, are you okay?”

Bucky felt his heart soften for a moment, watching your heart break and mend itself all at once as soon as you had your son wrapped in your arms again. He shook his head, reminding himself of why he took your son in the first place, ignoring the warmth that was trying to melt his soul. 

“You fu-” You bit your tongue, taking deep breath, keeping in mind there were little ears listening. “How could you?!”

“Had to get a message across doll, you don’t seem to listen” Bucky shrugged while you let out a law growl, hauling your son up and grabbing his school bag, wanting to get him out of there and back home more than anything else. 

“This isn’t over” You shot over your shoulder before leaving the office and exiting the bar. Bucky couldn’t help but smirk slightly, he didn’t like you but he couldn’t help but admire the fiery fearless side of you that never backed down, not even to him. 

“M’sure it isn’t, mama bear” Bucky murmured to himself, inspecting the little doodle your son left behind; an image of Batman and a small Robin. 

Of course you were not able to do anything about the kidnapping; none of the higher ups were willing to put their neck on the line to arrest Bucky and your boss shrugged, giving you a very pointed I told you so look. 

Jordan also seemed unaffected with the whole ordeal, often asking you what Uncle Bucky was up to these days as if he were a colleague from work. Truthfully, you were not even 100% what Bucky had been up to. Things had been suspiciously calm ever since the incident happened and while you were thankful for some peace and quiet, you wondered if he was up to something. 

Nothing was ever quiet with that man. 

Meanwhile you also had other problems to deal with. While work calmed down, your stress was higher than ever looking at the number of missed calls on you phone from Jordan’s father. The very man who decided he wanted nothing to do with either of you the day you found out you were pregnant. The man who promptly kicked you out of the house to fend for yourself. The man who had now decided would be a great time to reenter your sons life and be a stand up father. 

And maybe get some spousal benefits from your job. 

You could never catch a break. 

A few weeks later - Bucky’s office

“You kept this, huh?” Steve picked up the doodle on Bucky’s desk, smiling at the way Bucky’s eyes grew wide before trying to back to his signature frown.  

“Didn’t notice” Bucky lied, though his best friend could see right through him, knowing Bucky didn’t keep just anything on his table, every single item on the desk having a purpose. 

“He kinda reminds me of you” Steve pointed out, thinking back to all the times little Bucky had stood up for him when they were kids, putting on a brave face in front of the meanest. “Kinda looks like you too” 

“Hm” Bucky grunted, wondering himself why he still had the picture. He made a conscious decision not to throw it out; each time he had to write something down, he’d grab a paper below it and carefully put the drawing back on top. Steve was right; Jordan did look like him when he was little and had the same feisty, sassy personality as he did though he was sure the bravery your son had was from you. 

You.

In a strange way, Bucky missed having to deal with your nagging and threats to take him down; business had been quiet so there wasn’t a reason for you to chase after him. You made things interesting; it’s not that he wanted anyone to make his job harder than it had to be but sometimes the challenge was nice. Plus it didn’t hurt that you absolutely gor-

For fucks sake. 

“I need a drink” Bucky shook his head, flicking away the odd feeling he started to feel in his tummy, deciding he needed something stiff over whatever he had stashed in his office. Steve snorted, easily reading his friends thoughts while they made their way to a locked cabinet below the bar counter, fishing for something that would silence unnecessary thoughts. He grabbed a glass, dropping in two ice cubes and filling the glass, taking a long draw of the dark liquid before his attention was pulled elsewhere. 

Bucky’s eyes grew wide seeing the mop of dark hair and big eyes make its way through the crowded bar, customers giving each other strange glances at the little boy with a school bag who had no business being in a gang leaders club.   

“Kid, what are you-

“Mommy’s hurt” Jordan looked up at Bucky with teary eyes, swallowing away the lump that formed in his throat, putting his best brave face on instead, now wasn’t the time to cry. 

“What?”

“She - someone hurt her” 

The thought of someone hurting you sent a surge of anger through Bucky, his jaw clenching as he slammed his glass down. It was ironic, considering the number of times he had wished you would disappear but not like this. Not once had he ever thought of hurting you; at the end of the day, you had always stood for what was right. 

“Where is she” Bucky took Jordan’s hand in his, holding it firmly to ground him while making his way outside and towards the SUV. He didn’t have to even look at Steve to know he was already by his side and sliding into the drivers seat. 

“Home, we live on-”

“I know where you live kid” Bucky chuckled slightly while Steve was already weaving through traffic and pulling up to your street, screeching to a halt in front of your house. 

Bucky helped Jordan hop out of the SUV and lead him to you, the front door left while open with the handle broken off. There were clear signs of a struggle, seeing broken pictures on the floor and a few dents in the walls, the mess continuing all the way up the stairs to your bedroom. Bucky instructed Jordan to wait downstairs with Steve, worried about what condition he was going to find you in. 

You were holding yourself up against the wall, your arm clutching your bloodied side, putting pressure on the gash that sliced you. Your head still throbbing from where you had been hit. You could barely register what was happening, gasping at the sound of Bucky’s voice suddenly in your room. 

“C’mon, doll” His arm snaked around you, pulling you to his, holding up some of your weight. 

“Where are we going” You wanted to fight back but the pain was making you dizzy and spots were starting to cloud your vision. 

“We’re -woah-” Bucky caught you before you slipped, scooping you in his arms, bridal style “We’re going to get you fixed up” He spoke softly, carrying you out of your room and carefully down the stairs towards the SUV. You were in too much pain to protest, slipping in and out of consciousness during the drive over. 

Steve had already slipped Jordan into the front seat, the both of them chatting over who would win in a hotdog eating competition; Superman, Batman or the Joker. He could see Jordan sneak worried glances behind him to look over at you, fidgeting with the straps of his backpack. 

“She’ll be okay” Steve whispered to him, giving him a reassuring smile as he pulled up to the mansion. “Your mama’s strong, y’know she’s the only one Uncle Bucky is scared of” He gave your son a wink before helping him out of the car and opening the door so Bucky could carry you to his room. He carefully set you down on his bed, wasting no time grabbing a first aid kit he kept tucked under the bed for emergencies while you groaned, trying to sit up. 

“Barnes, what are you-”

“Just lie down doll, let me clean this up first” He carefully lifted your blouse to assess how bad the injury was, soaking a cotton ball in some disinfectant.

“Ah!-” You winced, hissing out in pain at the saturated cotton ball Bucky pressed onto your skin, cleaning the area as gently as he could, his focus shifting between getting you better and wondering who did this to you. He’d have to worry about that later. 

“Sorry, sorry” Bucky murmured, gently blowing onto the cleaned area, cooling your skin before grabbing a needle and threat, starting on some sutures to close the gash. “I’ll be quick, just bear with me” You gritted your teeth feeling the needle poke you.

“How-how do you know how to do this” Your voice was strained, struggling to keep it steady while Bucky threaded the needle as gently and quickly as possible, neatly closing off the gash. 

“Gotta know this in my line of work, sugar” He smirked giving you a lopsided grin when you rolled your eyes, squeaking when he gently pushed you back down when you tried to get up. “Rest for a bit” 

You reluctantly laid against the plush mattress looking up at the baby blue eyes softly peering down at you, the same blue eyes your normally wanted to poke out of frustration. 

“I’ll be fine, we can go ho-” You were going to say you could go home but it was clear home wasn’t the safest option, not after what had just happened. 

“C’mon, stay here for the night” He wasn’t exactly going to leave you room to do anything else, there was no way he was going to let you go home after what he had just seen. He was more than happy to sleep in a tent outside of his own home if it meant you’d just stay somewhere safe. “At least for today” 

“I-we can’t-Jordan-” 

“-WOULD LOVE TO STAY HERE” 

Bucky let out a genuine laugh hearing your sons voice carried through the doorway where he was clearly eavesdropping. You snorted, shaking your head and closing your eyes at your sons antics, exhaustion making it hard for you to move anyway. 

“We shouldn’t be here” You whispered, feeling your conscious battle within yourself. You were supposed to be fighting for the right side of the law. Bucky was the opposite of that. Then why didn’t this feel wrong? You’d spent countless hours trying to put him away. So why did you feel so safe? 

“I don’t-

“Just for tonight” Bucky stated softly but firmly, leaving you little room to argue. He grabbed you a tshirt and some joggers of his, letting you clean off and chance while he slipped out of the room. He was met with curious eyes peering up at him, your son patiently waiting to know if you were okay. 

“She’s okay, just getting cleaned up. Let your mama rest” Bucky whispered, leading Jordan to the TV room where Peter was busying himself with video games. “Hey Parker, brought you a worthy opponent” Peter grinned, handing Jordan a controller and shifting over so he could plop down beside him. 

“She’s gonna be okay?” Jordan whispered up at Bucky, feeling a sense of calm around the man his mom usually used no-no words to describe. Surely he couldn’t be that bad? 

“No one’s stronger than your mama” Bucky smiled, ruffling his hair before coming back to check on you. You had slipped back into bed, ignoring the way Bucky’s clothes were soft and comfy to wear, his scent making your insides flutter unnecessarily. 

“Don’t you look cozy, officer” Bucky smirked, sauntering over with a glass of water and pain killers, leaving them on the bedside table for you. You rolled your eyes though gratefully taking 2 tablets for your aching head. 

“Where’s Jordan?” 

“Currently beating everyone’s ass in Mario Kart” 

“This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook Barnes” You tried to keep your voice firm but the playful smirk he was giving you was infectious. You bit your lip to keep your lips from tugging up, choosing to frown more instead but that only seemed to egg him on more. 

“Course, darlin’“ He drawled out, giving you a wink before bidding you good night, “Wouldn’t have it any other way” He turned the light off and gently shut the door, making his way back down to make sure Jordan had something for dinner. 

You pulled the covers up, sighing into the soft plush pillows and sheets, letting sleep take over, ignoring the way your inner conscious continued to debate itself. He didn’t have to help you. Didn’t have to keep you safe. Didn’t have to do any of this and yet here you were. You and your son. Both safe. Because of him. 

Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all...

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[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 21

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

“I want you to come somewhere with me in a few weekends.” Dr. Miller ducked under the water beside me and emerged a few seconds later.

I dragged my toes along the small tiles on the bottom of the pool. “Where?”

“It's a surprise.” He scrunched his nose and squinted his eyes as he grinned. Despite our age gap there were times he looked so boyish - like right now.

I made a face back at him. “Everything’s a secret. You gotta give me this one.” I raised my eyebrows and swished my arms around.

Dr. Miller reached for my hands and pulled me toward the deep end like we did in the past. When my hands rested on his shoulders and I began to kick my feet, he gave in.

“Over the long weekend in February my sister is getting married. Come with me. Be my.. plus one.”

“Her wedding.” I smiled and then laughed. “She doesn't even know me.”

“We can change that.”

“What if she doesn't like me?”

Dr. Miller grinned. “My sister likes everyone who I like. She trusts my judge of character.”

“I’d love to go. I just.. that's a big night for your sister. I don't want to ruin it.”

He chuckled again. “How could you ruin it? Just don't drink too much and vomit on her dress and I think she'll be just fine.”

I snickered and took a deep breath, continuing to kick. “Are you sure?”

“If you don't want to go, I understand. I just-”

“I do.” I cut him off before he could continue. “I want to go.”

“Good.” He pecked my lips and continued to swim backwards until we reached the other side. “Then it's a date.”

“Where is it?”

“At the Stowe Ski Resort in Vermont.”

“I can't ski,” I said with a chuckle.

Dr. Miller smiled wide. “Well, you can't swim either, yet here we are.” He let his eyebrows rise and fall and I chuckled.

“Good point.” I slicked back his hair and planted a kiss on his lips. “Okay.. as long as it's okay with your sister.. I'll go.”

..

Two weekends later, Dr. Miller and I were walking hand-in-hand up the pebbly walkway of Red Maple Vineyard. I was nervous. Dr. Miller’s sister seemed to mean the world to him. Meeting her for the first time had me on pins and needles.

What if she doesn't like me? I kept asking myself that question over and over. Would our age gap bother her?

The two of us passed by the main doors to the establishment and headed to a back patio. It was littered with firepits, each one surrounded by a fake, see-through igloo.  Patrons dressed in winter hats and scarves, all toting wine glasses and talking with smiles inside of them.

When Dr. Miller grinned and gave a wave, my stomach knotted up. At the far, left corner of the patio a woman rose to her feet with the same friendly wave. She was a beautiful woman, with shortly cropped brown hair and high cheekbones. Jamie Lee Curtis in the flesh. The salt-and-pepper haired man who was seated beside her rose to his feet in preparation to greet us.

Moment of truth. I knew I needed to make a good impression.

“My favorite brother,” Carol greeted, pulling Dr. Miller I'm for a hug.

“Your only brother,” he added with a laugh, kissing her on the cheek.

“Still my favorite.” She nudged him and looked to me.

“Hi.” I smiled wide and extended a hand in Carol's direction. “I'm (Y/N). It's so nice to meet you.”

“Carol Miller,” she smiled and side-glanced her beau. “Soon to be Brennan.”

“Not soon enough.” The man exchanged a friendly handshake with Joel, and then switched his gaze to me. “Will Brennan.”

“Nice to meet you.” I then added, “Congratulations, by the way.” My eyes danced from Carol to Will and back to Carol.

“Thank you,” they said in unison, before inviting us to sit around the firepit with them.

Dr. Miller placed a hand on my lower back and extended his arm to allow me into the igloo a step ahead of him. I ducked under and sat down between him and his sister.

“We picked up a bottle of Chardonnay and Merlot,” Carol explained. “Preference?” She looked at me and reached for an empty glass. “Or we could grab a bottle of something else.”

“Oh, thank you. Um.. I’m more of a white wine girl.”

“Me, too.” Carol reached for the Chardonnay and poured me a glass before offering the same to her brother, who went with the Merlot.

“So,” Carol eyed the two of us, “How did you two meet?”

The question that made me freeze. I had only been asked one another time, and that by Tori. I assumed Dr. Miller would be giving his sister the same one because we hadn't talked about another faux-scenario.

“We met at the university,” Dr. Miller said.

“Oh,” Carol glanced to meet as she brought the glass of Chardonnay to her lips. “Do you work there, too?”

“I work at the board of education in Windham,” I explained, feeling my cheeks redden. “I’m actually just taking two courses at night. Chipping away at my Masters.”

“Oh, so this is a forbidden romance.” Carol said, motioning between the two of us with the hand she held her wine glass with. “Got it.” Her delivery was so dry I wasn't sure if she was kidding, disapproving or otherwise. I wondered what she would think of me actually being in his class.

Dr. Miller grinned at his sister who finally cracked a smile and gave a wink.

“I'm teasing,” she added. “You're both grown adults.”

Phew.

“I mean, she can't be one to judge,” Will leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “She fell for her boss.”

Carol glanced over at him and they shared a smile-turned-laugh.

“And yet, I still haven't gotten a raise.”

“I thought the diamond ring might've evened that out.”

I smiled to myself at their playful interaction. “How long have you been together?”

Carol rested a hand on his knee. “Almost three years.”

“Carol is the Dean of students at a private high school not far from here,” Dr. Miller informed me.

“Hillcrest Academy,” Carol explained. “And Will is the headmaster.”

“Nepotism,” Dr. Miller mumbled into his wine glass before taking a sip, making Will laugh and Carol roll her eyes.

“Fortunately for us, private schools don't have the same rules as most public schools do. One of us would probably have to leave to teach in another building, but Hillcrest doesn't have a strong nepotism policy. I just can't be the one to directly evaluate her performance.”

“Okay, enough work stuff,” Carol shushed him and leaned back in her chair to cross one leg over the other. “Let's get a little drunk and get to know each other.” She glanced at me with a look like, ‘what do you say'?

“Here, here.” Will raised his glass.

“Sounds good to me.” I brought my glass to the middle and then Dr. Miller and Carol did the same. We alternated tapping our glasses together and got the evening underway.

I was secretly hoping the truth would come out about Dr. Miller’s castle and the money. I was tempted to ask after a few glasses of wine, but I kept my mouth shut. The night ended up full of laughs and old, embarrassing stories. The mood was light, and talking to Carol and Will felt so organic that I certainly wasn't about to spoil it with intrusive questions.

“So,” Carol cleared her throat, swirling the wine that neared the bottom of the glass. The men were having their own conversation so her question was directed at me. “Do you want kids in the future?” Her question drew a quick glance from Dr. Miller and I knew he was fully paying attention despite his interaction with Will.

“Oh, well, eventually.. probably.” I chuckled and sipped from my own glass of wine. “I'm not totally there yet.”

“You've got time.” She tapped my knee and then fanned herself. “These igloos get warm.”

“That's the wine, honey.” Will placed a hand on the back of her neck and gave a squeeze.

Carol removed a white scarf she had on over a blue sweater. “So, Joel says you'll be attending our wedding next month.”

I raised my eyebrows and looked to Dr. Miller, then back to Carol. “If it's okay with you. I mean..”

“She's coming.” He draped an arm around my shoulders and winked, making me look down with a smile and back up.

I looked at Carol. “I'll be there.”

“Well, upon first impressions,” Carol glanced at Dr. Miller and then to me. “I'd love to have you as my brother’s plus one.”

“Congratulations,” Dr. Miller looked at me. “You passed the Carol test.”

“Even I flunked the first time,” Will added, making everyone laugh.

I felt like I was flying when we left the vineyard that night. Things had gone so well. When we exchanged hugs and finally went to our separate cars, I turned to Dr. Miller and kissed him on the cheek.

“Carol likes you,” he said, smiling back.

“She's great,” I gushed, “And Will seems really nice. They seem happy.”

Dr. Miller put his first two fingers beneath my chin. I loved when he did that. He stared at me for a few seconds before leaning in and touching his lips to mine. “Let's go home.”

Home.

I sighed contently, eager to snuggle under the fluffy down comforter in Dr. Miller's bed. I felt completely at ease after being worried about the evening prior to going out. I agreed. “Let's go home.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @jiminstinypinky @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @acciowolfstar1

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #joel miller x oc #pedro pascal #joel miller x original character #joel miller x fem reader #joel miller x f!oc #joel miller x female oc #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanart #joel miller gif #joel miller smut #jamie lee curtis #halloween #pedro pascal pictures #pedro pascal gif #pedro x reader #pedrohub #pedrostories

[ashleywool]

Some thoughts and lessons from my first week on Broadway

(in no particular order)

Insecurities don't magically disappear when you hit The Big Dream. But the Big Dream has made it clearer than ever that my default instinct to downplay my achievements is kind of ridiculous. I need to accept that there's just no casual way to talk about my life right now. There is no pretending that any of this isn't a big deal. It's a huge freaking deal, and I earned it, and it's awesome, and I am no less deserving of its awesomeness than anybody else.

Autistic people have more allies out there than we realize. In advocacy circles, we tend to get rather cynical about what people don't understand, or don't want to understand. But there really are so many people who think we are worth listening to, learning from, and amplifying. There are so many people rooting for us, and actively seeking ways to include and affirm everything we are. They know they aren't going to get everything "right" immediately, and they know we won't always have the emotional energy for the hard conversations, but they are THERE, and they are there because they WANT to be. Yes, even on Broadway.

Fun fact: my first survival job was "Starbucks barista." (Other fun fact: the day I made my Broadway debut, Starbucks Workers United announced a massive strike for the very next day.) One thing that my time on Broadway has with my time at Starbucks is that I never seem to have enough Sharpies. At Starbucks, the Sharpies were for marking cups by hand (yes, I'm that old), and on Broadway, they're for signing Playbills at the stage door. (Like I said, there's no casual way to talk about this stuff.)

I honestly underestimated how much Broadway performers have to eat. It's easy to think most Broadway performers tend to be predominantly thin/buff just because the industry is fatphobic--and don't get me wrong, it totally is--but I also don't think most people really understand how athletic it is to do a full musical eight times a week, and what you have to do offstage to make sure you have the strength and stamina for it. It's genuinely harder than I thought it would be to make sure I'm not at a calorie deficit--and my less-than-stellar autistic interoception means that I can't always rely on "hunger cues" the way most people can. I really do have to PLAN to eat. And eat more than I would usually think I need.

I'm getting a lot better at doing my own wig prep. And I'm very excited about how pretty my hair looks at the end of the night when I release it from the pincurls.

Thanks to Mayte Natalio and Team Choreo, I'm also getting a lot better at learning choreography without a mirror. Poor proprioception is common in autistic people and it's one of my biggest insecurities, so it is always very stressful and overwhelming for me to learn choreography without a mirror, especially if I'm in a large group. It's difficult for me to visualize where I am in space and what my movement looks like in relation to others. But the choreo team knows this about me and helps me find other ways to learn and feel confident in the moves without constantly needing immediate visual proof. And that's something I never thought was possible before.

If I had the authority, I would ban pedicabs. Those things are like sensory assault. And they're RIGHT outside our show (and my bedroom window) every night with their lights flashing and their subwoofers blaring. But as a consolation prize to the drivers, I would equip each of them with a food truck. Let them solicit us and our patrons with chicken shawarma and Nuts 4 Nuts instead. That'll certainly get more business from patrons coming out of a show about autistic people.

#how to dance in ohio #musical theatre #broadway #spectrum club 7 #actually autistic #broadway debut

[wing-ed-thing]

Three-Man Squad Relationship Headcanons with Deidara and Sasori

Tags: No Reader Pronouns, Canon-Typical Violence, Poisoning Mentions

𓆃 It’s less like being stuck in the middle of an argument and more like being stuck in the middle of a pseudo-intellectual hell where one side clearly cares a lot more than the other

𓆃 Sure, like with all members of the Akatsuki, you might have to worry about an assassination attempt, but honestly, one of your partners killing you is the least of your worries.

𓆃 What you should worry about is the never-ending pissing match between Sasori and Deidara. Not to mention that they’re both on exact opposite sides of the spectrum when it comes to interacting with you

𓆃 Deidara is the most vocal about his art and jutsu. He always wants to show you something, usually in the most annoying way possible. Whether it’s waking you up so he can put a literal bomb in your hand or just blowing micro-explosions up in your face, he can and will get your attention

𓆃 You’ll be half asleep, and Deidara will put a clay creation in your hand for you to feel the craftsmanship, and he can and will blow it up when you’re still holding it

𓆃 He actually prefers it that way

𓆃 You definitely have some sort of poisoning from the detonation

𓆃 Sasori is always tinkering with something and barely paying attention to anything you say, which would be tolerable if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s also secretly a show-off

𓆃 Sasori constantly makes snide and passive-aggressive comments, all while holding up his craftsmanship as superior. He won’t outwardly demand that you look at his work, but he will patronize you and step on your mission role to handle things himself

𓆃 It’s easier not to take sides when the bickering happens. Neither can really let it go, despite Sasori always acting like he’s above it. 

𓆃 Deidara never stops talking about art once he’s in the zone, and Sasori’s snide remarks spur him on further. Both of them are too prideful to conceed

𓆃 It’s fun playing referee for their sparring matches. Sometimes, when the conversation gets heated, the two of them fight. They fight until Deidara gets knocked out, Sasori gets bored, or they recklessly get too low on chakra

𓆃 If you’re ever in a pinch and need an assist, Deidara likes to make a big show of saving you. 

𓆃 “That’ll show you to admire my art!” “My superior artwork comes to the rescue yet again!”

𓆃 Sasori is the type to grab you by the back of your collar and drag you out of the way at close range. He thinks it’s funny to attach chakra strings to you before swooping in with his battle puppets

𓆃 In fact, he thinks it’s funny and convenient to do that even when you’re not on the battlefield. If Sasori wants your attention and you don’t hear him, he will physically turn you around from whatever you’re doing

𓆃 You’ve started to feel the tiny attachment of chakra strings in your sleep. You’ve started to brush them away like spiderwebs

𓆃 Deidara likes to walk around with his shirt off. On days he’s feeling generous, he’ll let you do his hair. It’s kinda become a bonding thing between the two of you. Sometimes he’ll yammer on about something, and you pass the time by braiding his hair. 

𓆃 You remembered being able to do Hiruko’s hair once. You don’t remember why Sasori allowed it.

𓆃 “Yeah, whatever, but if you get poisoned I’m not giving you an antidote...” 

𓆃 You’re as close as an Akatsuki three-man squad will get. There’s a certain amount of healthy distrust, but at the end of the day, Sasori and Deidara are sentimental and enjoy the company... for now...

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

#sasori x reader #deidara x reader #akatsuki x reader #naruto x reader #naruto headcanons #deidara headcanons #Sasori headcanons #sasori #deidara #x reader #akatsuki headcanons #naruto x you #naruto x y/n #reader insert #naruto

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic december 6 - obstacle - 2773 words (dont look at me like that)

cw: explicit sex, voyeurism ft. rosekiller, bit of degradation and slapping (as a treat)

((also shoutouts to everyone that voted on my poll but @casstration and @kaaaaaaarf hath spoken and so i went with option 1 lols, emjoy))

also posted on ao3

The winter cabin that they booked is by no means small, but it does only have two bedrooms. Which the four couples of them had to divide somehow.

It was somehow decided that Pandora and Lily get to have the one bedroom in the back by the balcony harboring the whirl pool. Regulus isn’t very aware of how or why that happened but he doesn’t question it.

Then it was dicing it out between Remus and his brother, Evan and Barty and James and Regulus for the upstairs bedroom. 

Regulus is pretty sure Sirius rigged that.

And after Sirius has tugged Remus and their bags towards the stairs, chirping happily, it was between the four of them to make out the living room sleeping arrangements.

It’s a large room with a few random shelves as dividers rather than doors. There’s the big ten person couch in front of the TV and a king sized mattress shoved onto a wooden raising beneath the wide window next to the bookshelves, creating a cozy reading nook.

Regulus had simply pointed James to put their stuff by the window and that was that.

It’s their first night now, after a half day of skiing and snowboarding through the snow or sweating in the sauna or tasting themselves (Remus) through the entire resorts hot chocolate menus.

James and him are cuddled up in their many sheets and blankets, the waning moon spilling dim light over them.

Regulus is pleasantly heavy boned and drowsy but James is on a mission. Tugging Regulus’ leg over his hip, trying to get him closer, always closer, always so clingy and trying to deepen the kisses Regulus is purposely keeping close mouthed for now.

James growls a little, abandoning Regulus’ mouth to find a path down where he’s met with less resistance.

When there’s a teasing stroke of tongue Regulus grumbles, tries not to let it on with his voice that James’ plan is working, “Behave yourself.”

“I dunno what you could possibly mean by that,” James murmurs heatedly into the sensitive skin of Regulus’ neck as he grinds their hips together. And just like that Regulus whole fucking body is trembling. It’s bordering on ridiculous.

Regulus huffs, “I mean that sleeping in the same room as Evan and Barty could pose somewhat of an obstacle, don’t you think?”

“No, not an obstacle,” James responds, nipping at Regulus’ ear lobe, “Rather an opportunity.”

And the second Regulus mouth parts around a moan James’ palm is there, muffling the noise. Which, insightful, thank you, but also it has absolutely no business being that hot but it definitely is and therefore results in Regulus hips bucking even wilder, a whine ripping from his throat.

James chuckles low and when Regulus blinks his eyes up at him there’s a dangerous smirk on his boyfriend’s annoyingly handsome face. Regulus wants to sit on it.

He tuts, coos a little at Regulus in the precise moment that he runs his fingers over the front of Regulus briefs. 

Regulus nearly chokes trying to keep the noises down.

James leans down, admonishing, voice patronizing in his ear, “You gotta be quiet for me though, love. Can you be a good boy and do that for me?”

Regulus pants, pelvis tilting up to chase his boyfriend’s retreating hand.

James tuts again and makes a dissatisfied noise at the lack of answer.

A small frustrated sound slips through Regulus’ teeth and he moves to punch James but this one simply intercepts the fist and thumps it down on the pillow over Regulus’ head and in one swift motion settles on top and between Regulus spread legs.

The thick line of him pressing against where Regulus is undoubtedly pulsing and wet under his boxers.

“C’mon, baby, don’t you wanna be good for me?” James whispers against Regulus’ jaw.

There’s currently no thought inside Regulus’ skull anymore, just a whole bunch of blank and static noise. All that matters is getting his mouth back on James’ and this one’s hands back on his body.

So Regulus nods fervently, the Yeah so delicate it barely carries over the small space that’s left between them. Trying so hard to be good and quiet but also knowing James wants vocal confirmation.

There’s a hint of teeth along his skin, James smiling, and then wet lips closing around a patch of skin on Regulus’ neck, sucking.

“Hah, mngh–” Regulus’ fingers find their way around James’ wrist, short nails digging in.

“That’s it, love,” James says, soothes the mark with his tongue and then– starts slowly and very fucking deliberately rolling his hips.

Regulus head tips back with the way his eyes roll up into his head.

Upsetting James’ hand over his mouth for a moment and letting the sounds go unfiltered.

“Shh,” James makes, smirking tauntingly, “Regs, baby, I thought you promised me to stay quiet?”

Regulus gasps, hiccups a little in his haste to reply while staying as quiet as possible and also coming down from the dizzying arousal coursing through his belly and making his head feel cotton-filled. 

“Sorry,” Regulus squeaks and James gives cheek a tender kiss in acceptance of the apology before continuing.

Something creaks on the other side of the wide room.

The thought loses importance rapidly though when James’ other hand makes its way under Regulus’ sleep shirt to roll a nipple around as he continues rocking into Regulus.

“Please– please, Jamie,” is all he can manage.

A few more excruciating moments go by in which James plays with him and Regulus suffers and grunts and pants through the onslaught of feeling so fucking good but having to stay quiet about it until the older boy shows mercy.

There’s a wet patch on both their briefs now that Regulus is pretty sure isn’t fully to his credit.

Especially with the wild glint in James’ dark eyes as he roughly pulls Regulus’ briefs off before he discards his own underwear messily, all the while tugging Regulus’ loose limbed and out of breath body closer by his thighs.

The sheets are fuzzy and soft beneath and then there’s a pillow stuffed under Regulus’ ass, and then another one.

His legs exposed to the cool air, eliciting shivers, and spread apart wider by broad palms, smoothing up and down the sensitive skin there on the inside of his thighs and admiring. And Regulus swears there’s something in James’ gaze, something unnatural because it feels just as teasing as a gentle stroke of fingertips up and down where coarse dark hair turns to slick, glistening skin.

So visceral, turning Regulus on even more and making him arch with a silent cry parting his lips, eyes locked onto James’ flushed features and the mess of his hair.

God, he’s so gorgeous Regulus is going to die.

James chuckles, maybe Regulus said it out loud, who knows, and then this insane nutter of a human being leans down over Regulus, making him shudder with the returning body heat of him. 

He brings their bodies in close, not flush together but touching, and Regulus whines brokenly when James’ shaft slides through the slick between Regulus’ legs.

And that’s before he rasps, right into fucking ear, low and incriminatingly sexy, “Die a little death for me, love.”

It’s all a bit hazy from thereon out.

There’s the palm returning to press over Regulus’ mouth when he fails to keep the noises to a minimum again.

There’s James’ thighs warm under Regulus’ and his slick mouth closing over his nipples, lips brushing over the scars there.

Regulus doesn’t know how much time goes by, not a lot he guesses, but he comes to again when his own whine rings clearer in his own ears.

High-pitched and needy because James is teasingly slapping his large cock down over and over where Regulus needs him most. Guiding the leaking tip up and down the slit of him and pushing in only so far just before he fully breaches him.

It’s maddening and rude and Regulus wants to insult him, spit venom but all that comes out is babbling and begging. No shame whatsoever.

“P-please, James, please I’m ah–” arching into the slap, watching cross eyed at the strings of cum and spit connecting them. Regulus ruts his head into the pillow helplessly, shaking it, and squirming, whimpering pathetically.

“Fuck, baby, fuck– fuck, c’mere. No, look at me,” James growls and Regulus eyes flutter open as his hips twitch. “You’re perfect. An angel, you hear me?”

Regulus hums and it comes out sweet. Pliant and agreeing, and James curses again.

There’s another sound in the background Regulus thinks but then James asks, “You ready for me, love?”

Regulus moans, abdominal muscles jumping and nodding quickly as James adjusts, crawling even closer.

He checks the pillows under Regulus, and then guides his cock forward.

There’s the silky wet of the tip again, warm and smooth. A small push, the almost-breach and then the head slips in entirely and Regulus gasps.

One smooth, slow, long thrust until James is panting above Regulus, completely sheathed inside.

James groans brokenly, dips down to place a quick kiss to Regulus’ sternum, “Fuck, love, you feel so good around me.”

Regulus whines in agreement, hips bucking where they’re flush with James’. “Please,” it’s barely a breath.

James pulls back and then rolls his hips forward again, an experimental little thing, not hard by any means but Regulus feels it.

The moan slips out on its own, loud and reverberating off the walls and Regulus whimpers when he feels a hand around his throat.

Squeezing lightly and Regulus hiccups again, makes a garbled sound when James gives a first real thrust.

His boyfriend tuts, leans down on one elbow and forces Regulus to look at him.

There’s a small part in Regulus that despite knowing James would never really deny him pleasure when playing is afraid of his boyfriend pulling out and stopping after keeping him so under- and overstimulated for so long. As punishment, which is a whole other box of exciting but not what Regulus wants– what he needs right now.

James frowns at him, while he keeps thrusting, Regulus clenching around the girth of him. There’s barely a husk in James’ voice when he murmurs, “That’s not how one’s being quiet, baby.”

Regulus gulps, hiccups and apologizes again, voice high.

James shakes his head in faux disappointment. It’s so startlingly sexy to have James switch between the praise and degradation, it has Regulus’ head reeling.

“Well, it’s a little too late for that now, is it?” James says accusingly, raising his eyebrows at him and then gives a particular hard thrust.

Regulus gives a squeaking gasp, throwing his head back.

But James pulls him back down by the jaw, fingertips digging into the bone and staring into his eyes as he pounds into Regulus’ tight, wet heat.

Regulus groans choppily before James nuzzles their noses together and says, “I think we’re being found out.”

Before Regulus’ brain is capable of processing the information James tips his head to the side, gaze drifting further into the living room.

He startles a little when once the blur fades he finds two pairs of eyes looking back at him unwaveringly.

Evan is on his back, neck bent and head hanging halfway off the cushions, bleached locks dangling, at an angle that simply must hurt, one hand fisting the plush armrest and the other in Barty’s short hair where he’s mouthing relentlessly at Evan’s hard and exposed cock, taking him down his throat every so often. Regulus doesn’t see it directly but the way Barty’s body is moving under the thick duvet leaves Regulus thinking he must be rutting his own aching length into the cushions below.

It’s only now that Regulus realizes him and James aren’t the only source of noises. 

Barty’s throaty moans vibrate around Evan’s cock mixing with Evan’s soft pants and little cries whenever Barty seems to do something expertly with his mouth.

“James,” Regulus moans, not quite able to tear his eyes away from his two best friends yet.

“Yeah, baby?” he grunts, sliding impossibly further in on the next push of hips, making Regulus’ head snap back around at him.

“I love you,” Regulus breathes reverently.

James dives down into a searing kiss in response, tongue and teeth and spit sticking to Regulus’ chin when they pull apart for air.

James keeps fucking into him, making Regulus’ steadily climb higher and then locks him right in place with his eyes as Evan and Barty’s noises grow louder and lewder in the background. 

James’ voice is dark when he demands, “Who do you belong to?”

It punches out of Regulus without missing a beat, “You.”

James’ shudders above him, hips stuttering and Regulus moans at the sensation. “Yeah, that’s right,” James pants, kissing Regulus’ shoulder. “All mine.”

And then he pulls out and flips Regulus. His cheek squished into the sheets and staring right back at Barty blowing Evan again.

“So generous of me to let them watch, aren’t I, love?” rasped low in his ear as James slips back in from behind, his warm body blanketing Regulus.

Several shivers whack through his body and then there’s something small and vibrating shoved between Regulus’ front and the pillows.

James presses his clit right into it, hands on his ass cheeks and grinding, fucking him deeper into the bed.

Regulus stutters through a loud whine, eyebrows scrunching and hips uncoordinatedly rutting back on James’ cock and down into the vibrator.

“Aw, precious baby– fucked stupid already?” James taunts and helps Regulus resume to a proper rhythm again, picking right up from where his climax started coiling deep in Regulus’ stomach.

“Just let me take care of you, love,” a smack on Regulus’ ass and he moans helplessly into the open room. Sees Evan’s hips buck in response and Barty take him further in his mouth with a desperate noise. 

It’s all so hot and dizzying. Regulus feels so on display it makes him both want to squirm under the close scrutiny but also bloom under the attention and stay still for them. All of them. Let them look their fill. Regulus feels splayed out from the desire you regard the muse with as you paint them to the canvas.

It’s a frighteningly fast climb and with every rut and push and tug Regulus is driven closer, his legs trembling uncontrollably where they’re bracketing James’ from the double stimulation and in the end all it takes is James’ mouth biting and sucking on his lips, Evan’s stuttering moans and the sight of Barty’s eyes rolling back that has Regulus climaxing.

A loud, surprised noise and then he’s clenching down on James’ fat cock, pulsating and it doesn’t take another five seconds before James is following after him, spilling and jerking pleasantly inside where Regulus is still quivering with the shocks of his orgasm.

Meanwhile across the room he hears Evan curse and make a truly obscene noise which in turn makes Barty groan and pant, the rustling of blankets doing nothing to drown out the sounds.

When Regulus blinks his eyes open to James’ gazing at him carefully a smile pulls onto his lips.

James blows out a relieved little breath. “Was that okay?”

“Yeah, baby, it was better than I could have imagined,” Regulus answers truthfully, grabbing blindly for James’ hand and giving a small peck on a random knuckle before he tapers into a bit of a giggle.

His body is pleasantly sluggish and tingly. James’ tilts his hand back and kisses the tip of every finger in response. 

He’s still inside of Regulus, slowly growing smaller.

James takes onto kissing at Regulus’ nape, warm body still pressed close and it’s almost enough for Regulus to drift off until—

“Oi, Potter! Why don’t you two beauts come over here and snuggle? Couch’s big ‘nuf for the four of us.” Barty’s smirk is audible in his voice and Regulus hears Evan muffle his snicker.

Regulus makes a small sound and snuggles deeper into the soft sheets, way too comfortable to be moved.

James understands that as the decline that it is and snarks back, “In your fucking dreams, Crouch!”

“Hey, hey now!” Barty retorts, because he can never leave it at good enough, “That’s not how you treat a man you’ve just had very voyeuristic sex in front of!”

“Rosier, beat some sense into your boyfriend, will you?”

“Ha, jokes on you! I’m into that shit, same as dear Reggie as it seems by the way, it’ll only turn into a round tw– Ouch! Baby, that hurt. I—”

#dedicating this to layla because i can #im so sorry abt the length guys they just kept fucking #and james kept teasing at the beginning >.< #yyeah:') #lune’s tiny fic #jegulus #jegulus microfic #jegulus fic #trans regulus #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter #regulus black #rosekiller #jegulus x rosekiller #starchaserrosekiller #?? #james potter x regulus black #james x regulus #regulus black x james potter #lune writes

[thewolvesof1998]

Last Line Tag/Inspiration Saturday

Tagged by the lovely @jesuisici33 @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @fortheloveofbuddie @rainbow-nerdss @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @forthewolves @giddyupbuck

Okay so I did say yesterday that this WIP was going to stay as notes but I couldn't help myself so here's the inspiration:

and the Last Line...paragraph...s:

“And why do I have the displeasure of you darkening my doorstep, Buckley?” The man in question gives him a roguish smile and leans against the bar in a move that is purposely meant to highlight his bulging biceps, Eddie does not look at them, “Well the boss is here to see the old lady and I thought you could use some company.” Eddie could spy Athena and Nash held up in one of the inn’s darker corners and sure enough there seemed to be more than business going on between them. He looks away, he wasn’t being paid to be nosey, he’s paid to man the bar and be some muscle if any of the patrons get a little too rowdy.  And if Athena wanted to be in bed with as well as in business with the kind of man Bobby Nash is, it wasn’t any of his business. Expect for the six-foot-two problem in front of him, who just couldn’t seem to take a hint. Buckley is trouble, Eddie can see it from a mile away and trouble is the last thing he needs right now.  “Dad!” A high-pitched voice calls and Eddie turns to look at his son as he pokes his head out the back room. Panic fills him, he does not want any of the patrons to know that his son is here, while he’s incredibly grateful to Athena for allowing Chris to be here while he works, the people who frequent this place are questionable at best and at worst Mr Nash and his crew and their less than legally sourced goods. He might not be his business but it doesn’t mean he isn’t aware of the goings-on. One might leave the Navy but its teachings never truly leave you and Eddie can tell a pirate from a mile away. But it’s not his business and he really needs this job so he keeps his head down and Chris as separate from it as he possibly can.  Eddie crouches down in front of him, blocking him from view as much as possible, “Chris, what did I say? Stay out-” “-Back, I know, but I’m hungry,” The young boy whines and Eddie can’t be angry when those coco-coloured eyes gaze up at him.  “Here,” Bucklet leans over the bar, holding out a big orange to Chris.  Chris’s eyes are almost as big as the orange as he stares at it, his hands reactively reach for it before he turns to Eddie, “Can I Dad?” He asks, obviously remembering the rule about not accepting things from strangers.  Eddie looks at Buck, trying to read the man's intentions, all of the possible reasoning racing through his head must show on his face because Buckley raises his other hand, “No strings,” He says. Eddie nods and Chris stretches the last few inches as takes the orange, it looks comically big in his son's tiny hands, “Thanks, mister.” “Buck, it’s what my friends call me.” “Thanks, Buck!” Chris says Eddie ruffles Chris’s hair, “Okay buddy, head out back, I’ll be in there shortly.” Chris nods before turning around, one hand gripping on doorframe as he slowly and carefully retreats.  Eddie watches him go, the underlying worry he always feels about his son and the illness that affects his movements making him briefly forget the audience he has.  “He’s super adorable,” Buckley says, Eddie whips his head around to look at him, “I, uh, I love kids,” He rambles, one hand scratching at his neck, a flush on his cheeks as pink as the mark on above his eyebrow and corner of his eye.  As far as Eddie can tell, Buckley is being sincere, “I love this one,” He says standing, “I’m all he’s got. His mother’s…not in the picture.” He doesn’t know why he says it, why he’s being the most honest he’s been in a while with a man he has every reason not to trust. “Buck, we’re going,” Nash calls from the door.  “Be right there Cap,” Buck nods farewell to Eddie, “Until next time Diaz.” He walks over to his captain, shooting a wink over his shoulder at Eddie before he steps out the door and into the night. Eddie sighs, definitely nothing but trouble. 

tagging: @wildlife4life ​ @eddiebabygirldiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @try-set-me-on-fire @bekkachaos @buddierights @911-on-abc @shitouttabuck @911onabc @eddiediaztho @your-catfish-friend @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @theotherbuckley @hoodie-buck @eowon @nmcggg @pirrusstuff @evanbegins @sammy-souffle @smilingbuckley

#9-1-1 #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fic #thewolvesof1998 writes #pirates au #last line tag #inspiration saturday #Spotify

[nathandrakeisabottom]

Yesss please sam drake food/eating hcs?? Fave meals, hated meals, etc

It is with great joy and great belatedness that I post my first Uncharted piece in ages. Thank you for the lovely ask, anon. :)

⋆ Sam Drake - Eating Headcanons ⋆

Two words: scarcity mindset.

After running away from Saint Frances’s, to claim money was tight is to be telling some humorous bit, Money was borderline non-existent. And as such, came what the Drake boys do best: theft. 

Liquor stores were their easiest, and most consistent source. Sam still takes great pride in telling his many stories revolving around ‘cashier meet-cutes’ disguising their proudest heist to date: a 12-year-old Nathan smuggling canned goods under a moth-holed hoodie. 

Because of this, gas station snacks: twinkies, Lays chips, slurpees, etc. all tend to give him this simultaneous sense of nostalgia and nausea. Like when you’re eating eggs and all of a sudden, your body gags on the next bite.

But on an especially shitty day, expect him to be gobbling a Big Gulp and a half-frozen hot dog on the nearest street corner, with a half-smoked cigarette still sunken between his lips. It’s the way he wallows. 

Secretly wants you to tell him how bad that shit is for him so he has an excuse to snottily spat back “who the ‘ell cares?”. He finds pride in not caring about anything. (He cares about everything.)

Getting fast food at the drive-thru? Man waves you off a total of three times claiming he doesn’t want nothing before proceeding to eat half of your McNuggets without asking. He loves BBQ sauce and needs Tabasco on everything like it’s his will to live.

Big fan of spicy, sour, and tart, anything that makes your mouth pucker. Pretzels, salt and vinegar chips, cottage cheese, pickles, pineapple (😉). “What can I say? I admire a fruit that fights back!” — he snorts before taking a raw bite of a lemon, just to squirm you out.

Maybe a bit of the masochist in him. 

When he and Nate were able to get proper gigs (12-year-old Nathan: illegally, of course), they were able to progress to the simplest of grocery outlet options. Eggs, instant ramen packets, canned vegetables that were 9 out of 10 times eaten raw out of the can with a fork, and more nothing-but-toast-for-dinner than they’d want to admit).

Sam and Nate spent most of their childhood eating their dad’s scrambled eggs and microwaved peas. When their mom passed, and dad released them to the state, Sam decided he’d only ever eat over-easy again.

Nate still chooses scrambled. He asks for cheese and green onions to split the difference, but always ends up only eating half of it before the memories come too strong and he has to push his plate away. 

QUICK eater. MESSY eater. And I mean quick and messy. 

Will use as minimal cutlery as possible, and if disposable, even better.

A scooper. Tends to be a chronic careless spiller with how frequently he tries to funnel all the last crumbs into his mouth, how quickly he chugs even a glass of water. (Most shirts of his are stained as a result.)

Tends to wait till the last possible moment to eat or drink anything. Breakfast basically doesn’t exist to him. 

Spills more beverage down his chin and shirt than his mouth (but a wet t-shirt certainly isn’t the worst thing to happen. Especially not to Samuel Drake. ;)

Pizza order: Meat Lover’s with extra sausage. Maybe some green bell peppers when he finally compromises with Nate during movie night.

Never, ever orders (well, non-alcoholic) drinks when eating out. And only water when he finally lets himself cave. Otherwise, he’s stealing sips from the nearest patron’s Jarrito bottle (his favorite is Tamarind).

Doesn’t bother cleaning up his fruit peels or peanut shells, even around others. That shit’s going on the floor without a second look.

Surprisingly, a king and natural on the BBQ. Despite having so little in their childhood, Sam still tried to go hard on the holidays for Nathan’s sake. Fourth of July is still Nate’s favorite holiday exclusively because of Sam’s public park-smoked ribs and the long, bumpy motorcycle ride up the highest hill in whatever city they were currently loitering in, just to see the fireworks. 

A dive bar master. Nate always orders whatever grease-covered appetizer they got in the back. Sam purposely keeps his stomach empty so there’s more room for whiskey. (Since nobody asked, incredible at pool, and will offer any woman in a twenty foot circumference a lesson. Cue the leaning chest over back, cue stick fantasy.)

A love language that was a total surprise to him is his partner cooking/baking something just for him, especially if it’s from scratch. Gets that rare, soft look in his eyes as he watches them carefully place each steaming plate onto the table. And trust, he’s not looking at the food when it happens.

Loves his partner in an apron. Like… loves his partner in an apron.

Make him food, and as soon as it’s eaten, he’s eating you after. ;)

When he finally settles down post-Madagascar, it’s a fucking struggle to get him to go grocery shopping at all for the first few months. 

Self-punishment, maybe. 

Nathan buys them himself instead and leaves them on the porch of Sam’s trailer park home when he’s too depressed to answer the door. 

Basically has to be forced to eat actual meat and vegetables. For the first few months, he reverts and eats only familiar prison food. The same single pot of chili/beans for a whole week, half portions only for each meal. Uncooked canned carrots. Microwave popcorn when Nathan calls him asking if he’s eaten, and when Sam lies, it sounds more believable with the microwave droning in the background.

However, when he finally starts to pick himself back up, when he gets his first day job since prison, finally lets Nate buy him a used truck to get around, his first solo call from Sully, that’s when he finally starts to eat.

And when he finally feels like himself again, when he finally lets himself want to live again, the first hobby that Sam Drake takes up is cooking.

#uncharted #sam drake #sam drake x reader #uncharted 4 #uncharted 4: a thief's end #shea is back babyyyy (at least a little bit) #life's been real hard and i think i need to go back to uncharted and writing a bit to save my soul #also i love this man and wanna see him well #don't we all??? #also biggest hugs and heart eyes to the anon who decided to stick around this dead blog #thank you <3

[inkstaindusk]

Remember that reddit post about the guy who keeps getting into fights with the cook at waffle house? Ok that but joecherry, as witnessed by respective apprentices Langa and Reki

Reki likes Sia la Luce. It's pretty fancy, but he has to wear a kimono during his apprenticeship anyway so he never sticks out too badly. The food is really good--he never had Italian before he started coming here--the employees are all nice people, and the atmosphere is usually pleasant. Usually. The only exception being...

"You must have lost whatever smidgen of skill you had to your oversized muscles!"

"Clearly your tastebuds need to be checked as much as your eyes, damn four-eyes!"

Reki chews slowly on his pasta as his teacher and the head chef Nanjou argue over the counter. Again. Like they do every time they eat here. There's never anything wrong with the food in his opinion, but Cherry--Kaoru-sensei in public, he's reminded him countless times--always seems to have some problem. He can't tell if this is bad flirting or what. Mostly, it's just kind of weird and disruptive.

One of the junior chefs, Langa, slides into the seat across from him, also glancing at the fight. "Um, your food isn't that bad... right?" he asks hesitantly.

Reki shakes his head wildly. "No, the food's great! Awesome, even!"

Langa sighs with relief. "I made your meal today, so thank you. I'm glad you like it."

Reki nearly chokes on his next bite, but manages to swallow it down, hopefully without being too obvious about it. It shouldn't be a big thing. Of course one of the chefs would have made his food; it doesn't have to be the head chef. But Reki has had a crush on Langa ever since he saw him the first time Cherry took him here and he can't help getting his hopes up that maybe this means something. Maybe. Possibly.

The food suddenly tastes a whole lot better now. How about that?

"Y-you're a really good cook, Langa!" Reki stammers. "Thanks for the meal!"

Before Langa can say anything else, the argument kicks up a bit and there's a choking sound. When Reki looks to the side, Cherry is trying to strangle Nanjou with the collar of his tight shirt. A few patrons actually look over this time and in the blink of an eye, they've fixed their appearance as though nothing happened.

"Man," says Reki, "they have way too much practice with that."

Langa nods. "Mm. They're childhood friends, so it makes sense."

"They're what?!"

Langa tilts his head at him. "Sakurayashiki-san hasn't told you? They grew up together."

Cherry did not tell him this. Any time he tried to ask about why they keep coming here Cherry just gave him a scary look and said Oh so you don't want me to pay for your lunch anymore? Reki values his life, wallet, and future prospects, so he stopped pestering. Eventually.

"You know, that makes sense," he says thoughtfully. "Ch--Kaoru-sensei wouldn't just fight with anyone." With no one looking at them, except for Reki and Langa, Cherry and Nanjou have gone back to their hissed argument. It's starting to look a lot more like weird flirting now. He kind of doesn't want to keep watching anymore.

Reki looks back at Langa. "Hey wait, what are you doing out here anyway? I thought you weren't allowed to be a server."

"Nanjou-san said it's okay if it's you. I'm 'better at smiling' when I'm with you." As though to prove his boss's point, Langa smiles.

Reki ducks his head, hiding his own smile behind his food.

(By the counter, the argument continues:

"Now look what you've done! Your employee is slacking to flirt with my apprentice!"

"How is that my fault? Is your AI heart too mechanical to appreciate young love?"

"Not when they're on the clock!"

"And what do you think we're doing right now?")

#sk8 #sk8 the infinity #matchablossom #joecherry #kojiro nanjo #kaoru sakurayashiki #reki kyan #langa hasegawa #renga #talks about skoo #anya tries to write #drabbles #fp.txt

[girl-next-door-writes]

Then There Was You

Characters: Mycroft Holmes x reader

Summary: A chance encounter in an airport at a magical time of year might make a believer out of even the most logical of men.

Word Count: 2076 words

Prompt: Airport. Mutual Pining. Eyes meeting across the room. “You feel like home.”

A/N: This is the first of my Build-A-Festive-Fics so thank you to the wonderful @savvy-devine666 who put these prompts together for the enigmatic Mr Holmes. Hope you enjoy it, I may have got a little carried away.

************************************************************************

In the departure lounge, the holiday spirit is palpable, creating a lively and enchanting atmosphere. The glittering decorations and twinkling lights transform the space into a festive haven, immersing travelers in the magic of the season. As passengers navigate through the terminals, the air is infused with a sense of excitement and anticipation, each step bringing them closer to the warmth of family and the joy of holiday celebrations.

Sparkling lights, glittering ornaments and garlands filled with holly and tinsel seem to adorn every surface, forcing the joviality of the season upon all who enter this artificial winter wonderland.

The sounds of classic Christmas carols fill the air, creating a harmonious backdrop to the lively conversations and laughter. The departure lounge becomes a stage for a symphony of joy, where people from all walks of life unite in the shared celebration of the season. The place somehow feels more than just a transit point, it feels almost held outside of time itself, where anything could be possible.

Mycroft Holmes, ever the embodiment of control and authority, sat in the plush surroundings of the first-class lounge, a haven for the elite travelers. The atmosphere exudes sophistication, but the irritation on Mycroft's face betrayed the inconvenience he felt. The hum of quiet conversations and the clinking of glasses momentarily ceased as an announcement crackled over the speakers, signaling yet another delay.

His brow furrowed in annoyance. The delay was unacceptable, a disruption to the carefully orchestrated schedule he had in place. He retrieved his phone from the pocket of his impeccably tailored suit and began to type furiously. His fingers danced across the screen in a rapid and precise ballet, as if Mycroft believed his typing could somehow command the weather outside. His gaze never wavered from the device, as though the intensity of his focus could single-handedly rectify the situation.

The snowfall outside the window continued unabated, indifferent to Mycroft's attempts to influence it. Despite the annoyance etched on his face, Mycroft remained the epitome of composure. The delay might persist, but Mycroft Holmes, with his phone as a weapon and his ice-cold demeanour as a shield, was determined to restore order to the chaos, even if only within the confines of the first-class lounge.

Mycroft's discerning gaze swept across the crowded first-class lounge, his mind momentarily shifting from the pressing matters of flight delays to the intriguing spectacle of human interaction unfolding before him.

His attention settled on a peculiar scene: a man, who seemed to have overindulged a little at the lounge bar, engaged in rapid-fire conversation with a young woman who appeared young enough to be his daughter. She seemed uncomfortable with the invasive nature of his questioning, but the man appeared unperturbed by her avoiding answering.

Further down the bar, an elderly gentleman called the barman by his first name. Mycroft's keen observation suggested a regular patron, a man who had traversed the halls of this exclusive lounge on numerous occasions. The over-familiarity hinted at a sense of entitlement, a privilege earned through repeated visits, and he couldn’t help but smile at the deference the bar staff paid the man. Clearly a big tipper, Mycroft surmised.

As Mycroft continued to survey of the room, he noted that everyone appeared to be bathed in the fake joviality of the festive season, papering over the cracks in their lives, and Mycroft wondered why people felt the need to cling so desperately to the promise of hope and possibility during the festive season.

Mycroft, usually the embodiment of control and emotional detachment, found himself in the throes of an unexpected internal turmoil as he observed the attractive figure across the bar absentmindedly stirring their drink. The subtle shift in his composed demeanour betrayed a rare vulnerability, and an uncharacteristic ache in his chest stirred his emotions. In his mind, he grappled with the unfamiliarity of this emotional response.

Blinking rapidly, he attempted to shake off the unusual sensations and refocus his thoughts. This wasn't the Mycroft Holmes he knew; the man who thrived on logic and control. It had to be the effects of sitting in what amounted to an oversized festive snow globe for far too long.

Despite the internal turmoil, Mycroft couldn't resist the urge to deduce. It was a coping mechanism, a way to regain a semblance of control. Not married, not romantically attached: these deductions flowed effortlessly. The presence of a book in your bag and your apparent nonchalance about the flight delays intrigued him further. As he continued to observe from a distance, Mycroft found himself at a crossroads, torn between the familiar comfort of his calculated control and the allure of exploring beneath the surface, the possibility of creating a connection with someone who had unexpectedly captured his attention.

In that unguarded moment, just as Mycroft was contemplating the probability of instigating a conversation with you which would make him somehow favourable, your eyes met his. Time seemed to stand still as a profound shift occurred within him. The man who thrived on logic and science, the master of cause and effect, found himself inexplicably lost in the depths of an unfamiliar emotional landscape.

The carefully calculated moves in the chess game of life, the strategic thinking that defined Mycroft Holmes, dissipated like mist in the face of an unexpected connection. It was as if the world had momentarily slipped from the moorings of reason, and he was caught in the uncharted territory of raw, unfiltered emotion. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken possibilities, and Mycroft Holmes, the orchestrator of order, found himself suspended in the magic of a moment that defied the logic he held so dear.

As Mycroft was caught in the whirlwind of his own thoughts and emotions, unbeknownst to him, you had not been quite as passive as he believed. Upon entering the lounge, your attention had been immediately drawn to the striking man in the finely tailored suit. The ambient glow of twinkling fairy lights seemed to play upon his features, creating an aura of both mystery and sophistication. Your observant eyes didn't just see the meticulously groomed exterior; they delved deeper into the subtle expressions that danced across his face; stern, frustrated, yet undeniably captivating.

In the backdrop of the festive ambiance, you began to weave your own internal narrative, a fictional backstory for the handsome stranger engrossed in the world within his phone. The tapping fingers and furrowed brow sparked your imagination, and you found yourself concocting scenarios that might explain his intense focus. Perhaps he was a high-powered executive handling a critical business deal, his mind navigating the complexities of global affairs. Or maybe, he was a brilliant doctor, eager to get back to the hospital where he worked in order to save the lives of several orphans who had been in a horrific accident, him being the only one who could perform the surgery. The finely tailored suit hinted at a life of privilege and authority, but the flicker of frustration painted a more human portrait beneath the veneer of sophistication.

Your eyes met Mycroft's, and both of you instinctively looked away, a fleeting moment of embarrassment shared in the silence of the lounge. Yet, as if drawn by an unseen force, your eyes found each other again and a soft smile graced your lips.

Caught off guard by the unexpected warmth of the encounter, Mycroft returned your smile nervously. His usual calm exterior seemed to falter in the face of these unfamiliar feelings bubbling inside him, threatening to breach the carefully constructed walls of his emotional reserve. It was a sensation he wasn't accustomed to, and the vulnerability it brought unsettled him.

Your hand rose in a small wave, and Mycroft hesitated for a moment before reciprocating. This was ridiculous. He had faced the most powerful people in the world, had even given some of them a dressing down, he could walk to the end of the bar and strike up a conversation with an attractive stranger. Surely it wasn’t that difficult. Yet, here he was, feeling like a teenager with their first crush. 

With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, he got to his feet and navigated his way towards you.

"Would you mind if I joined you?" Mycroft's voice betrayed a hint of vulnerability, a departure from the usual confidence that defined him. You, however, seemed not to notice his nerves.

"That would be lovely."

As the two of you engaged in slightly awkward small talk, there was a palpable tension in the air. Mycroft couldn't shake the feeling that he was not excelling in this arena, that the art of forging emotional connections eluded him. The potential for something wonderful lingered in the air, but he couldn't shake the sense that it was slipping through his fingers.

"So… are you headed home for Christmas?" Mycroft asked; a question he knew the answer to but felt compelled to inquire nonetheless. The conversation seemed to teeter perilously on the edge of uncertainty.

"Yes. I suppose so." You said thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?"

"Well… home is such a strange concept. Somewhere can feel like home despite it being the first time you are there. People can feel like home. Not just family, not just the familiar. Have you ever been somewhere and felt like you have been there before? Like you are remembering a place you have never visited. Or met someone who just feels like they are new but also so familiar? Sorry, that took rather a strange turn. When people talk about home, they mean the place they come from, not some abstract concept." You gave him a bashful smile, clearly embarrassed by your ramblings.

The conversation had indeed taken a turn into the realms of introspection and philosophy and Mycroft found that delightful. As you spoke about the abstract nature of home and the peculiar familiarity one can feel with places and people, Mycroft found himself drawn to the depth of your thoughts, drawn to you.

For a moment, the awkwardness seemed to dissipate, and Mycroft discovered that he did indeed understand point of view.

"You feel like home," he said softly, the words escaping him before he could stop them.

"What?"

"I said, Yule feels like home. The time of the year. There is something about it that just feels…" Mycroft trailed off, the weight of his words hanging in the air. In that vulnerable admission, he revealed a layer of himself that rarely saw the light of day.

"It does. There is something so cozy about the festivities. You can't help but feel something magical could happen."

Your response held a warmth that echoed Mycroft's sentiment and he couldn’t help but think what his brother would say if he heard this conversation. There would be severe mocking, but Mycroft found he didn’t much care.

The moment between the two of you was abruptly shattered by an announcement over the lounge’s speaker, signaling the boarding call for passengers.

"Well… that's me." You rose from your seat, casting a bittersweet smile in Mycroft's direction. "It was lovely to meet you, Mycroft."

“You too.”

As you walked away, Mycroft's gaze lingered, and he couldn't help but feel a tinge of regret. The encounter had been brief but had carried a weight of unexpected connection and shared sentiments. The lounge, once a stage for silent glances and meaningful conversation, now felt a bit emptier as you moved toward your departure gate.

The first-class lounge, adorned with holiday decorations and a twinkle of lights, returned to its bustling atmosphere as other passengers prepared for their journeys. Mycroft, still lost in thought, found himself contemplating the significance of the brief encounter and the unanswered questions that lingered in the air.

"What am I doing?" Mycroft muttered to himself, a sudden realisation propelling him to his feet. The urgency of his thoughts overrode any hesitation as he hurriedly headed after you. The encounter had left an impression, and he couldn't bear the idea of letting you simply walk out of his life.

The bustling atmosphere of the airport became a blur as Mycroft navigated through the crowd, his determined strides reflecting a sense of urgency that contrasted with his usual measured pace.

Mycroft reached your departure gate just in time to catch a glimpse of you preparing to board. With a breathless yet determined expression, he approached, the echoes of uncertainty and vulnerability replaced by a sense of purpose.

"Wait!”

#Mycroft Holmes #Mycroft Holmes x reader #Mycroft x reader #gndw fic #build a festive fic

[autistichalsin]

Do you have hcs of halsin's parents' and/or siblings' names? Or at least some hcs about them like their class or occupation/work or deities they believe or anything else?

Names: not yet, because I am not great at names, especially elven ones, and I headcanon Halsin with a big family (unusually large for elves, which becomes relevant later in the timeline I made for him and my Dark Urge, Kiaran) which means LOTS of people to name.

Class/occupation/etc: YES.

So my basic thoughts on Halsin's family, keeping in mind that John Corcoran (Halsin's writer) said that Halsin was the youngest son (which of course means little sisters are still possible):

His father (who we know from a comment Halsin made looks a lot like him) was a Bard. (Why? Partly because it's unexpected, partly because because that would be part of where Halsin gets his love of telling stories from). He worshipped Corellon.

His mother was a Ranger who semi-retired when she had his older siblings. There was quite a gap between Halsin's closest older sibling and Halsin, and when Halsin was born, she fully retired. As you might expect for a Ranger, she primarily worshipped Mielikki.

Halsin's oldest brother was a Cleric of Corellon. Halsin didn't get to see him very much, but they loved each other a lot.

His oldest sister was a healer (haven't decided yet if she was a Cleric or a Druid, though I'm leaning towards Cleric.) She settled into a different elven community when she married her wife. She helped encourage Halsin's interest in healing.

His next oldest siblings were twins, brother and sister. They were both Rangers, and he was the closest to them of any of his siblings. Halsin definitely spent a significant part of his childhood planning to become a Ranger so he could have adventures with them (even though his mom always said he'd decide on a Druid eventually, and was of course right.) They both worshipped Mielikki. The brother had a wolf companion, and the sister had a hawk.

Halsin's younger sisters never really had a chance to pick a patron deity- none of them made it to their teenage years. :( Halsin adored them and totally had a "mother hen" way of taking care of them because he was just so excited he finally got to be a big sibling. They loved the stories he'd tell them every night (which is another part of why he loves, in the post-canon timeline, telling his orphans stories so much- it reminds him of those days).

I'll come up with names for everyone eventually, it just requires a bit of a lore deep dive to find both a fitting name for them in Elvish AND to make sure I'm not giving them the Elven equivalent of "Jane Doe" as a name LOL

Thank you so much for this ask!!

#halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

[dragonnan]

Friday Fic Recs

The Sandman - Dreamling

The Undone and the Divine E by @dancinbutterfly

Warnings: Consensual Violence, Burning, Stabbing, Skin picking, Drowning, The Corinthian is His Own Warning, Cannibalism, Horror, Suicidal ideation, Mutilation, romanticization of violence, Dissociation, BDSM elements

For 24 hours, John Dee influences the entire world with the Dreamstone to make what he thinks is a more honest world.

At the New Inn, Hob finds himself uniquely positioned to save his fellow patrons from the dangers they now pose to themselves and each other.

Why not? After all, what's the worst that could happen?

And how can he do anything else?

Read Me Your Longing M by @linzod

The Stranger hesitates, and does something Hob would not have believed possible. He stammers. “I- I do not remember. I came to and was being pursued.”

Hob notices the older man approaching, but is shocked as his voice rings out, addressing them both, “My dear boy, I am so glad we have found you.” He observes the situation warily; the only reaction from his friend is subtle, the smallest recoil.

“Who exactly are you?” Hob asks the man.

“Why, I’m Paul McGuire, and I can’t thank you enough,” the man looks at Hob’s ID badge, “Dr. Gadling, for finding my nephew.”

Hob’s eyes narrow, as he flatly asks, “Your nephew?”

***

Hob’s life is forever changed when his Stranger literally stumbles back into his life, amnestic and hunted, and he must use the skills gathered over an immortal life to evade their pursuers. They soon realize that bits of memory are coming back to Hob’s Stranger, through the power of literature. They are slower, however, to recognize that the most important story to explore may be their own.

A love letter to books, libraries, and the stories that make us, and allow us to change for the better.

Part of the Centennial Husbands Big Bang! Work Complete, Includes Art!

to keep our metaphysics warm by ineverfeltyoung G

“Where on Earth did you learn to make pizza?” Death asks around a mouthful. Hob hasn’t even finished serving himself yet and she’s already dug in. Dream is certain that etiquette would denote this rude behavior, but Hob doesn’t seem to mind, only giving her a disbelieving look.

“I’m immortal,” he says blandly. “Italy. Where else?”

Death comes to dinner. Dream does the dishes. Hob cries a little bit.

Series: Part 2 of the abstract entities dinner club

Cottagecore series by @the-apocrypha

Warnings: vary by story

The love story of a fae prince and a hedgewitch in the middle ages. <3

The Measure Of A Soul E by @vlakas-ex-machina @blueberrymffn

When Hob Gadling made a drunken deal with a mysterious man in a pub, he didn’t expect anything to come of it. Waking up the following morning with a golden mark on his wrist was a shock, though less than finding out that he couldn’t die. Who had he made a deal with, and what did he want? His Stranger was far from forthcoming, so he’d have to figure it out himself. That his mark was not just a passkey to an underworld of supernatural beings but the sign that he wasn’t meant to spend eternity alone was enough to send him down paths he never knew existed and ask more questions than were answered. Who, or more importantly what was his Stranger, and did the mysterious man know who Hob was destined for?

(An AU where only immortals have soulmarks that mark their species/type as well as their partner, and Hob has something no one has seen before)

who wants to live forever? M by ranchdiip

“An Endless?” Hob asks, softly, because it feels like a question that needs to be soft.

“That’s what we are,” Death responds, trying again for a small smile. “Me and D—”

“Don’t,” Hob interrupts, far stronger than he meant to, and Death looks surprised for as long as it takes him to get out, “Don’t, please. I-I want to hear it from him.”

Sympathy colors Death’s gaze even as Hob feels his face burn. Six hundred years, Hob thinks—he’ll be damned if he finds out his Stranger’s name from anyone but the odd man himself.

—

It's 1989 and Hob Gadling thinks he's been stood up. Death herself is kind enough to inform him otherwise—and, well, now Hob's got to bloody do something about it, doesn't he?

it doesn't matter which you heard (the holy or the broken hallelujah) T by @meadowziplines for Thranduilland

Warnings: Kidnapping, Torture, occultism, Blood and Violence, Blood and Injury, Whump, Broken Bones, dislocations, magical torture, Physical Torture, Delirium, Confusion, Memory Issues, Identity Issues

Roderick Burgess kidnaps Hob Gadling on June 7, 1989, intending to break both him and Dream. Instead, Dream being rather aggressively tortured triggers the knowledge of Hob's identity as Hope of the Endless, wrapped away in a mental box as they had been.

#dreamling #the sandman #fanfic recs

[macsimagines]

hi, i really like your blog! if it's okay, could i get something for alpha!kazutora? how does he court/bond/mate with his omega? what kind of alpha is he? thank you so much

( he's one of my fave yanderes. Not my fave character but this guy breaths delusion and obsession. -Ms.Mac)

TW: Elderly abuse and Muder

Yandere!Alpha Kazutora

Convinced himself you two are fated star crossed lovers. You're just fated mates.

You try to be as on board as Kazutora is with the whole thing but this guy jumps the freaking gun. He wants to be mated now, and he wants you pupped tonight.

But you talk him down, tell him even if its fate you still like things to be a little old school.

He can do that. He can do something right for someone. But he tries so hard to be perfect its a little scary.

First he scents you like crazy, at least as often as physically possible. Everytime you two kiss or hug he's also making sure you've got that his distinct smell of cloves.

Next, he's always fighting for your sake. Even when it isn't necessary... You've had to stop him from getting arrested so often you're basically on a first name basis with your local law enforcement.

Finally the thing you don't see? His marking of your apartment. He doesn't mean to be gross, but if he pees just on this one corner of your building other alphas will try to steer clear...

Flowers, gifts and dates are so damn expensive he's gonna put himself into debt. You tell him you don't need all that fan fair, you just want him to be a good alpha.

But good alphas can provide so much more than he can and you deserve so much more than he has. Its driving him crazy that he's not rich and extravagant like you deserve.

You tell him that all you really need to be happy is a collar! One that symbolizes your love and devotion to each other, and to even make things really easy you'll pick it out together.

Kazutora doesn't catch how you're leaning towards the cheapest models in the store. And you're thankful because you don't want to hurt his self-esteem...

You find the perfect one. Something very simple and not too pricy but not too cheap so it doesn't hurt his pride. A collar with a sapphire pendant! His birthstone.

He's thrilled as well, thinks it's the perfect piece of jewelry he can get you. You'll have a piece of him with you forever! It'll be so romantic to tell your pups about.

But then... it had already been sold. To an older gentleman as a gift to his daughter. Its not an uncommon practice for parents to give their omegan children a collar as a coming of age present, despite being sad about loosing out on the best option, you think its sweet.

Your alpha does not. Kazutora does the unthinkable and tries to fight the old man for the prize. Growls and intimidates him, threatens him in front of all the store patrons. Causes a huge scene...

Having no idea what else to do, you tell your Alpha to stop. Lie and say a collar was a dumb idea anyways. Say courting was stupid too That you should've just done what he wanted to begin with...

Despite your better judgement you bond that same night. You're hoping this will calm your fated mate down, and you feel like maybe it was the right choice when he makes sweet gentle slow love to you.

A week later you really believe things are actually better. Kazutora has seemed to calm down exponentially and you've researched how Alphas can go manic when their fated pair doesn't bond with them right away.

So maybe its your fault. You knew you shouldn't have questioned him when he said he wanted to seal things right away. Who were you to question fate?

Both of you are moving your things in one night, unpacking your big box of nesting materials when Kazutora hands you a very neatly wrapped square box.

You're shocked to see the sapphire collar...You're sick to see the droplets of blood on it...

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere kazutora #yandere kazutora hanemiya

[anastasiaskarsgard]

So I had an ask that disappeared that asked about Roman Godfrey has an ex gf that he wants back but she is sick of his shit.

Why on earth had you agreed to see your crazy ex boyfriend again? You were having a fucking panic attack. Why did you agree to this? You were entirely too nice. Boredom was always your worst enemy, and for a moment this seemed like it could be fun.

Plus it’s early morning and light out. This could hardly be considered a booty call. It was too early for Romans antics, right? Oh boy.

Peering out the window, you tried to decide where you were heading. You’d originally assumed the White Tower, but you’d long ago passed that turn off.

The driver had the partition up, so you attempted to lower it. After pressing the button several ways, it became clear it was broken or disengaged. This was looking like a worse and worse idea as the minutes ticked on.

Scooting down the long leather bench, so you were right behind the driver, you knocked on the partition and waited a couple beats.

“Hello? Excuse me sir? My button is broken.” You called out. Knocking a few more times and still getting no response, you told yourself you were fine and you weren’t going to overreact. Roman probably had some rule about no contact with his whores.

Not that you were a whore, but in the mind of his driver, you all probably blurred into one.

Maybe your outfit selection had been a bit hasty. In an effort to show Roman you were not going to be ordered around, you decided to wear your Hello Kitty pajamas. The red booty shorts with the famous cats face all over them, and the form fitting tank top, paired with your shiny white Uggs could possibly give the wrong impression.

You had been going for playful adult woman that didn’t take herself too seriously, but maybe an older gentleman wearing a suit would think otherwise. Add to that, you had a full face of make up, and had done your hair because you refused to look anything less than perfect in front of your ex... oh well.

As the car came to a halt in front of the nicest restaurant in town, famous for their exclusive invite only brunch they held on occasion, you couldn’t help but laugh at your current situation. With the restaurant having an open indoor/outdoor seating arrangement, everyone would be seeing you exit the limo.

Even though everyone dining here was well off, very few people took limousines anywhere, and just in case they were curious who’s limo this was, the big golden G on the window made it pretty clear.

Steeling yourself for the looks and hushed comments you were sure you deserved, you put on your brightest smile and thanked the driver politely when he opened your door. Holding your head high, you followed him into the restaurant, back towards the private rooms. Focusing on the mans jacket, you ignored the snickers and buzzing spreading through the patrons as you passed by. Finally coming to a stop in front of a set of gorgeously carved doors, he opened them to reveal a generously sized private room with Roman seated looking like he was shooting a photo spread for Vogue. Dark top and slacks, tailored to fit him perfectly, and the subdued lighting made his stunning good looks and inhuman beauty all the more obvious. In spite of all that, you couldn’t help but feel flattered at how his face lit up when he saw you.

“You are such a fucking brat. The one time I try to treat you like an adult you show up in Hello Kitty.” Roman chuckled, smiling happily at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh too. You felt pretty ridiculous, but you’d be damned if you’d admit it, “well thanks for trying to be an adult. And thanks for finally bringing me to the place I’ve been begging to go to for our entire doomed relationship. Glad to see you care. Now where’s the server? I’m going to need some vodka for my orange juice.”

Romans face fell into a frown and he glared at you for a moment before raising his hand in the air. Not a moment later, a server arrived to take their orders, and hurried off.

Silence settled over the table and you sat staring at a large landscape piece, refusing to make conversation or attempt to make him comfortable. You didn’t want to be here, and he wasn’t making much of an effort. You don’t know what you expected, but maybe him getting up and trying to hug you or shake your hand. Something!

You refused to cry. You would not allow it. You would not give him the satisfaction. You-

“I’m sorry.”

You turned to look at Roman, shock written across your features. Taking that as encouraging, he continued on.

“I love you and it scares me. When you went back to the room, they all started to give me shit about you owning me, and I reacted...” he knit his brows together and seemed to be searching for the right words, “wrong. Like an asshole. I wanted to prove I could do whatever I wanted. When I returned to the room and you were gone, I lost my mind. I searched everywhere and then Bianca found me and took me to her room.”

Your heart shattered. And here it had started out so perfectly. You’d been elated to find out he’d searched for you, and his apology nearly made you fall from your chair, but it all crashed down with the last part.

You nodded your head and looked away as the server dropped off your items, and you tried to keep it together. It’d always be like this. There’d always be a Bianca. The thought was devastating.

“Can you say something or at least look at me?” He snapped. His famous temper was surfacing, and you really didn’t think you could handle a tantrum.

“There’s always going to be a Bianca, or an Ashley or a Susan,” you said sadly.

“I don’t even know a Susan.” He stated incredulously. “What does that have to do with me being sorry? Who is this Susan? Where did you meet her?”

“Roman!” You snapped at him, pinning him with your fiercest glare. “There’s no Susan!”

“But you just said-“

Slamming your hand on the table, you were pleased to see he jumped. “Do not interrupt me Roman. You will listen since you forced me to come.”

He let out a long sigh and lit a cigarette, cocking an eyebrow at you as you took your time, eating some of the delicious dishes and sipping your cocktail. When he lit the second cigarette, you decided to begin.

“Roman I love you but so does every other woman that meets you. I don’t trust you and I don’t trust any of them. I’m constantly a wreck and worried someone will steal you, when you really should just belong to someone greater than I am. I’m not putting myself down, I’m just not so full of myself to believe I am better than everyone else, and you deserve an unbearable gorgeous Bianca that puts herself above all others, and doesn’t even consider your flaws to be flaws. You’re not a very nice person, and it’s exhausting constantly apologizing, and I need someone that loves me and feels I’m the best thing that happened to them. The competition is simply too stiff with you.” You finished and were surprised to see that Roman was not only listening but seemed to be considering your words.

“Any thoughts?” You asked after he put out his cigarette and continued to stare thoughtfully at you.

His lip quirked up into a smirk, and you pushed down the urge to touch him. He was still gorgeous, and as mad as you were with him, you had missed him. You wondered if it would be counterproductive to have one more romp, but you swiftly shut that idea down. You weren’t sure that you could have the self-control to just have one more time, and that would just lead to you being another one of those girls for him. Another good time and as appealing as that sounded... your heart couldn’t bear it.

Plus you really were tired. Curling up in your warm bed seemed like the most exciting prospect, and you wondered if he’d be terribly mad if you left right now. As your eyelids dropped and grew too heavy to keep open, you barely heard his reply;

“I knew you’d be difficult and I love you too much to let you ruin it.”

You tried to fight against the darkness closing in on you, but it was no use. As you felt your consciousness slip away, you couldn’t help but think that maybe all those good time girls had the right idea in letting Roman throw them away...

#bill skarsgard #roman godfrey #my writing

[alex-journal]

Creep (Kid Version)

Click for Zoro [x] Sanji [x] Luffy [x] Law [x] Click for Ao3 here [x] Summary: One day, the crew decided to visit a local bar to drink and party. But beside music, booze and food, y/n meets a creepy dude with too much confident. Luckily, Kidd is there to safe the day. Pronouns: he/him cw: creepy dude, violence

The Kid Pirates had just completed a stressful fight, and their captain Eustass Kid decided that everyone deserved a night off, letting off some steam. So they docked at a port and made their way to a crowded bar. 

The crew were laughing and sipping on drinks as they all mingled with the bar patrons. However, y/n, one of their newest crewmates, was getting more anxious with every passing moment. The reason? A man at the bar kept hitting on him, and it was clear y/n was not interested. 

y/n tried to ignore the man, the comments and looks as much as possible, but there was just so much one could endure. Nothing he said helped to move away from the annoying, creepy man, and y/n got more and more nervous, angry and stressed.

Even a few drinks in, Kid noticed that something was off, he didn't like the way the person was looking at y/n, how he touched him, talked to him, and he could sense that his crewmate was uncomfortable af. 

Without hesitation, Kid walked over to y/n, tapped him on the shoulder to not alarm him more before put his arm around him. "Hey, y/n, leave this creep be and drink some beers with us" he said, turning and shoving him towards the table Kid sat on only a few seconds ago and behind him, so that he now stoot between y/n and the stranger.

The man had a few brave seconds, telling Kid to get lost and who he thinks he was, before getting punched in the face by the pirate captain. 

"Leave my crewmate alone, creep" Kid said sternly, looking down on the stranger, which laid on the floor, bleeding.

The man now quickly backed off, realizing that he had just messed with a notorious pirate captain that wouldn’t hesitate to do more than break a stranger's nose in one punch. Kid looked at y/n to make sure he was okay, without a further care for the Stranger, or anyone else. Even tho, he would have loved to use the creep as a punching bag more. 

"Thanks, captain," y/n said, still looking shaken. "I didn't know how to handle that guy."

Kid gave him a rare friendly smile. "That's what the crew is here for. We watch out for each other. I don't like seeing anyone on my crew feel uncomfortable at a party. That person was definitely giving off some creepy vibes."

“Yeah, it is easier to get rid of the Marine, as such creeps…” “If they don’t take a no as an answer and won’t leave you alone, just punch or kick them. We deal with the rest later, if necessary.” 

Kid couldn't help but smile. He had always been a bit rough around the edges, but deep down he had a good heart, even tho nobody would say that in front of Kid. Not if he didn’t have a death wish - or liked pain a lot…

As they made their way back to the table, and now, with y/n by his side, everyone cheered and raised their glasses in solidarity. The evening continued in a relaxed and happy way. It was a night to unwind, to enjoy each other's company, and most importantly, to feel safe.

y/n couldn't help but feel overjoyed. He had found a crew that accepted him for who he was, made him feel safe, and they had his back no matter what. He knew that, with the Kid Pirates, he had finally found his true home. And that thought alone was enough to put a big smile on his face.

#Eustass Kid x Reader #Eustass Kid x male Reader #Eustass Kid x y/n #Eustass Kid x male y/n #Eustass Captain Kid x reader #Eustass Captain Kid x male reader #Eustass Captain Kid x y/n #Eustass Captain Kid x male y/n #Kid x reader #Kid x male reader #Kid x y/n #Kid x male y/n #One Piece x reader #One Piece x male reader #One Piece x y/n #One Piece x male y/n #cw: unwanted flirting #cw: creep

[dg-outlaw]

X-Men '97 and the Gambit Ford F-150 Trailer Hitch Clutching

So I haven't watched all the episodes yet, but I wanted to address the stuff I've seen/heard about certain dudes in the "fandom" getting all upset about Gambit's crop top and how it made him seem gay or bi coded, even though in the entire episode he's classic Remy LeBeau from the original 90s series--not too interesting in helping out or doing anything other than what he wants to do, shamelessly flirting with Rogue, and busting everyone else's balls/possibly flirting with them too, but will still jump into the fight when it's time.

Oh, and Gambit was my favorite X-Men character growing up and I'm a cishet male, if that matters. Spoiler alert: It shouldn't.

"Holy Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition, Batman! It's his belly button."

If that's you, you clearly were too young in the 90s to remember the fashion of the day. The top photo and the ending basketball scene (a references to the comics as well), was soooo 80s/90s. Bishop's got a lime green tank top on and Cyclops' tank top is tucked into his shorts. The animators understood the assignment.

If anything, Remy (above) is rock-n-roll coded more than anything else. Just Google most 80s era rock bands that had songs about partying, sex, hot babes, etc. and you'll see big hair, eyeliner, bright colors, leather pants, jewelry, fishnets, fingerless gloves, and yes... crop tops. Maybe the 80s and 90s were "gay", IDK, but I remember most of my childhood clothes in the 80s and early 90s were some variation of a neon color as was every other kid's regardless of gender.

As mentioned above, he soooo badly wants in Rogue's pants, which possibly eliminates any gay coding, which only leave bi coding if a 90s crop top = being bisexual.

Who. Freakin'. Cares. Say this out loud with me. You can like, love, and enjoy a character without identifying with that character in any way, shape, or form (and that's probably a good thing for some characters). This can mean their sexuality, gender, ethnicity, religion, morality, or anything else about them. Yes, we can bring in the Punisher debate and how military and law enforcement appropriated the Punisher logo as their badge of honor and intimidation, and how they cherry-picked traits from that character to signal their toxic masculinity when Frank Castle is not meant to be a patron saint of law enforcement or the military. But it is also possible to just enjoy a character without making that character your identity. You can enjoy their characterization, storylines, or even something as simple as their costume, superpowers, or where they're from because you were born or grew up there too.

As mentioned above, Gambit was my favorite character growing up when I first got into X-Men, mostly thanks to this series, and he and I are very different. To me, Gambit was the cool, confident guy that I wasn't. He also wasn't Cyclops or Wolverine.

As a kid, most kids wanted to be Wolverine when playing X-Men on the playground because he had the claws and the healing factor. To us, he was OP which fit in with the whole childish argument of big, bigger, biggest, and finally infinity whatever... until someone busted out with the infinity times infinity argument. Also, there was no real internet and comics weren't readily accessible, so most of the knowledge at that time was from the show and limited comics one might've had. Plus, I think the whole Magneto pulls the adamantium from Wolverine's body storyline hadn't happened yet so yeah, that would've been a good game changer on the playground.

Anyway, outside of Batman, I was never a fan of the "popular" thing growing up and often preferred more underdog characters, teams, and things. Also, due to self-esteem issues I always felt less than, so while I liked Wolverine it was hard for him to be my favorite since he was everyone else's and I felt like I wasn't cool enough to like him. Cyclops on the other hand was the clean cut boy scout, which also didn't appeal to me because that was also something I didn't relate to. Outside of Beast and Morph, who got sidelined earlier in the series, that then left Gambit. (Note: Bishop wasn't a part of the main group and came later on.) But Gambit also seemed cool to me. He had a cool looking outfit, was agile and knew how to fight (I was into martial arts at the time as well), and could throw explosive cards. He definitely fit the "Rule of cool" in my child brain.

Lastly, and this goes back to point #4 above, it shouldn't matter what a character is like or how they identify. They're fictional and enjoying them as a medium should be fun. They are not you and you are not them, even if you have things in common. That said, I do think it's great when there's representation as well. I don't recall if this was in the OG series, though I seriously doubt it was, and I don't know about main Marvel canon, but I also think it's cool that Morph now has they/them pronouns as seen in the profile credits and Marvel wiki. I'm sure some people have missed this and I'm sure that'll be the next hot-button issue, but whether Gambit is gay, bi, straight, or whatever, he's still one of my favorites and it's why I grabbed this guy when it first came out.

I have more things to say about this first episode and my experience with the X-Men growing up, but I'll save that for other posts as this has gotten long enough already.

#x men 97 #x men the animated series #gambit #remy lebeau #long post