#fuck I can’t even remember some of the women I have been obsessed with
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told you so.
kate martin x reader
2.9k
woooooh this is a fucking doozy guys. literally received one (1) anon and then i blacked out for an hour and a half soooo here’s this ! realized during this journey that kate martin means an unfathomable amount to me and it’s like . Actually concerning 🔥🔥
ANYWAYS it’s giving Kate martin’s controversially hidden girlfriend that goes lowk public at the wnba draft like SHUT UP
18+ AS FUCK
“babe, quit looking at me like that.”
if there’s one thing you know, above the fact that you were certain there was gonna be an unsuspected draft tonight, was that kate martin could be such a bitch in the morning.
not that this was new for you, in any sense— you’d been more than used to it since the dawn of your relationship, learning all the little things about her that made her tick. whether that was her favorite to least favorite foods, or teams, even her obsession with fucking hot sauce.
you knew she still slept with her childhood blankie, the one currently curled under her chin atop the hotel comforter because she’s ridiculous, and because nobody has ever and would ever disrespect her blankie game.
and above all, you knew how much she wasn’t a morning person.
“you’re so dramatic,” you snort, pushing yourself up onto your elbows with a tired, but mocking voice as she emits a slow groan, turning to shove her face into the pillow, her body curling away from yours in an act of indignance that only makes you laugh.
you were far too used to her acting like a baby, so the action only made you sit up on your knees, slinging a leg over her so you could straddle her sides, leaning down to pepper kisses against the side of her face as she lets out a string of groans that turn into halfhearted chuckles, until her hands are planted firmly against your thighs, bare due to the oversized IOWA shirt that she insisted on you wearing.
‘for good luck,’ you remembered her snickering, something you knew was really just ‘easy access’.
her voice is still hoarse from sleep, quiet and raspy and tinged with that midwestern accent that you’ll never give up on bullying her for, when she whispers, “dude, you’re so annoying.”
of course, she proves it by hoisting you off of her, onto the bed, simulating something like a WWE smackdown moment as she rolls over onto you, mumbling something that you really can’t decipher due to her face in your neck, your chest, basically every place she knows will pull that hysterical, annoyingly high pitched laugh out of you, that for some reason, she loves.
“can’t believe you made it here.” she murmurs quietly against your cheek, lips moving lazily against the skin before she lays a smacking kiss there, and it’s almost gross, how much saliva she uses, but you snicker anyway, hand coming up to stroke through her blonde strands.
in all honesty, you couldn’t really believe it either. it had been soemthing close to hell trying to get it all straightened out, from clothes to hotels, to transportation and getting from des moines to brooklyn, not to mention just how fucking exclusive it had been to even get a seat open with all the hype surrounding women’s college basketball, the posterity that the final four teams had brought to the sport— not to mention, the fact that you and kate weren’t public in the fucking slightest, so having to account for that definitely sucked.
of course, it was a huge accomplishment, one that would definitely go down in the history of sports in general, so of course it was a huge fucking honor that your girlfriend was apart of it—
but also, you just thought it was hot.
in fact, the thought makes you smirk to yourself, corners of your mouth curling upwards in a self righteous grin as you turned your head, bumping noses with her to whisper, “can’t wait to see you all dressed up, baby,” she snickers at that, and you kiss her lips once, twice, three times before continuing, “and, i can’t wait to see where you get drafted so i can buy myself a plane ticket.”
the subsequent groan you receive is expected, but it doesn’t deter you even slightly, “and to watch you play on a professional fucking team, like, kate, i’m basically wet thinking about it right now.”
that makes her laugh out loud, and it warms you just a bit to hear it.
it’s not like kate has been super confident about it recently, usually choosing to not speak or avoid talking about how bad she wants it— especially considering the night being mainly for caitlin, an old teammate of yours from school and one of kate’s best friends on the squad, and arguably, one of the best players in the league (next to kate, of course).
still, it didn’t change your focus, or the unyielding hope you had for the possibility of kate getting drafted— no matter how late in the draft it could be.
“babe, quit selling yourself short, okay? you’re a legend. it would be literally, fucking stupid to pass you up, okay?” she doesn’t respond at first, her eyes closed and lashes brushing her cheeks, before she flutters them open just a crack, blue peeking through as you offer her a grin, one that she only rolls her eyes to, but kisses you regardless. you knew how much she hated to talk about it, but it didn’t matter.
you knew you were right, anyway.
“mmmiloveyou.” it comes out in one smushed whisper against your mouth, before you nip at her bottom lip, hand sneaking under the sports bra she wore to bed to brush your thumb across her ribcage, “get off of me and get ready, okay?”
—
caitlin was top draft pick, which was heavily speculated and yet still unexpected to a degree as you stood from your seat with a cacophony of shouts and hollers from around you, pride swelling thick in your chest. you’d known the girl since you two had been in middle school— seeing the same tall little girl that had hated losing in an elementary school gym turn into such an infamous champion was something alike to a parent watching their kid go off to college or something, you’d swear it.
but, to say it was nothing short of nervewracking would somehow be an understatement, and as much as you felt the impending pressure with each name called, you could only imagine how kate must’ve felt.
it wasn’t hard to tell— the way her molars steadily worked the inside of her cheek, the way her tongue would dart out to wet her lips again and again. her hand, jittering too much to be held stationary within your own, drumming along your bare thigh beside your dress— ‘self soothing’, she’d explained in a whisper, a halfhearted, almost weakened smile on her face when you’d given her a lifted eyebrow at the hand placement considering the amount of cameras that surrounded you, but somehow, despite the rush of adrenaline, decided you didn’t care either.
thankfully, you both weren’t anywhere too accessible, but it still made you wonder whether kate had been bullshitting just how anxious she actually had been the whole time for her to need your touch so badly, and for an aching moment of tenderness as you glance at her, you want to kiss her, hard, rub the tension between her eyebrows, relax the trouble in her eyes.
still, gabbie and jada were good eyes too, considering anytime the camera would so much as even pan past you two, jada would hit you with a solid elbow, one to remind you that your poker face was shit, and perhaps you’d have to try just a little harder to pretend you weren’t totally, irrevocably in love with the woman beside you.
but slowly, it was all starting to click into place.
the cameras began panning to kate more and more, your own eyes flickering to the set and noticing how everytime you’d look, there’d be an official looking right past you, right at kate. a surge of excitement rose within you, one that had the words bubbling from your mouth in an urgent whisper,
“baby, i think—“
until an official, dressed in black with a wireless pair of headphones in each ear and a smile, touched kate’s shoulder.
“ms. martin, we’re gonna go ahead and have you and your party move down the aisle just a bit— there’s been a slight seating issue, if that’s okay with you guys?”
jada elbows you extra hard this time, and for some reason it solidifies that feeling you get, one that makes your heart leap as you all nod, getting to your feet without argument, only as kate turns to give you a look that’s supposed to be scolding, but fuck, you can see the glimmer of hope in it that makes your chest constrict, your eyes burn in pride.
“you’re giving me eyes, and for what?” she hums, the teeth against her cheek working overtime as you all settle into the new seats, kate at the end of the aisle, and a fluttery feeling in your chest, “no reason.” you say it almost smugly, as if you know something she doesn’t, and you don’t, but god, you can feel it.
the names fly off, left and right, number 16, and kate’s knee starts bouncing slightly, number 17 and your heart feels like it’s going way too fucking fast, number 18, and jada peers around you to glance at kate, and then…
las vegas, aces— kate martin.
if watching caitlin win had felt like a parent watching their child, this must’ve been adjacent to winning the fucking lottery.
you’re on your feet in mere seconds, the tears that had built finally dripping down your cheeks, a fact you’d only come to find embarrassing once you realize how visible they are on the playback, but fuck it, your girl was going pro.
she wastes no time in wrapping you up, her face ducking into your shoulder as your arms twine around her middle, thinking subconsciously of how you know you shouldn’t risk it, but kate doesn’t seem to mind, only releasing you with a single arm to embrace jada, and then gabbie, before she’s back to you.
of course, it doesn’t occur to you in the moment, that it’s a hard launch— no, it doesn’t really sink in until she kisses you hard against the temple before she’s breezing down the aisle, the subsequent eruption in applause leaving you starstruck, in silent awe.
after that, it’s somewhat of a blur— she takes her picture and accepts her jersey, the newscasters going off on some spiel about your girlfriends work ethic, her attitude, her endurance, everything you already fucking knew, had known for so long, that she’d finally have a chance to prove.
the moment she’s back beside you, it also doesn’t register to you that she must’ve been just as accepting about the reveal, because it’s only a second that she’s in her seat before she plants a soft kiss to your mouth, the dark lipstick you’d been steadily biting off in anxiety sticking to hers and she’s grinning, bigger than she had all day, and for a moment, you think you might actually collapse because god,
you love her. so fucking much.
“told you so,” you make out between the tears, smiling through the tightness in your voice that makes you sound warbled, whimpering even as she just laughs at you, her thumb careful to wipe beneath your eyes, “guess you did.”
of course, it’s only customary that after such a good night, everyone must get fucked up— so, that’s exactly what happens.
you get to gush to caitlin— hugging her tight around the neck and congratulating her a million times, to which she reciprocates when it comes to you and kate, garnering a blush on your already alcohol flushed cheeks, rolling your eyes as you punch her arm.
“whatever, fever.”
“whatever, ‘ace’.”
you pretend you don’t notice the quotations she puts around it, and give her a friendly middle finger instead— if kate was an ace, that meant you basically were too, at least by proxy.
“hey money,” you call to kate affectionately, seeing only the back of her head as she talks to gabbie, your arms sliding around her waist to hold her tight from behind.
“my love,” she greets with a smile, looking over her shoulder to pucker her lips at you, expecting a kiss that you so easily return. it feels fucking terrifying, in all honesty, to be so open, but you can’t find it within you to care enough to give it up— not when she’s this happy.
“dude, you totally knew, didn’t you? there’s no way you would’ve started crying like that unless you knew.” she’s drunk, chattering at a volume level beyond what’s needed considering you were right behind her, hand sneaking beneath her blazer, but you can’t help the way you shrug, “i’m always right, huh?”
later that night, she shows you just how right you are.
it’s past a decent hour to still be tugging off clothes from the night prior— the clock read four in the morning, but the windows spoke of the twinkling lights that surrounded, the city not quite awake, but never asleep.
“you’re a pro,” you hum against her mouth as you tug off her blazer, hands making quick work of the belt that kept you from exploring, smirking at the look she gives you, daring and all too fucking sexy, “it’s so hot to think about.”
“yeah?” her fingers hook beneath the straps of the dress until she’s dragging them down your shoulders, “you want me to show you how professionals do it?”
the next thing you know she’s between your legs, nothing but a white top and her slacks on, unbuttoned, as she hikes a leg over her shoulder, kisses along the inside of your thigh with an intensity only comparable to how she is after a really good game.
“fuck—!” it leaves your mouth in a sound that’s almost unrecognizable, the realization that you’d been pleasantly and uncomfortably horny ever since the draft had ended making itself known considering just how much kate had been unrelenting during press— hands on your hips or on the inside of your thigh, toying with the hair on the back of your neck or grasping the inside of your elbow to lead you along.
she knew it drove you crazy, you knew she’d make it up to you later.
her mouth makes easy work on you, tongue long and flat as she laps against your cunt, rough in all the ways that she knew you could handle— thumbs pressing fingerprint bruises into your skin, breath hot and heavy against your clit, hips moving on their own accord as you gasp out a string of incoherent whimpers. “shit, baby- just… just like that.”
it wasn’t like kate had ever failed at getting you off, but tonight, she performed as if it was her last game, greedy almost as she drinks you in, making sure to not leave one bit of you unchecked. her tongue is almost sinful in the way it makes your voice careen, high and whining, your hand finding a permanent tangle into her already mussed hair.
but she’s cocky tonight, presumptuous right before you orgasm as she raises her head to kiss your thigh, biting the skin before she’s climbing onto the bed beside you, too tall to be graceful, but you’re too fucking horny to even spare her the laughs you usually give.
“up, c’mere.” she’s breathless still, but she doesn’t let you rest for even a second, leaning across you to curl her fingers around your thigh to tug you up from your laying position, rousing you from the hazy, almost delirious state of mind as you push yourself up, letting out a shaking breath when she’s sliding your leg over her chest, hands grazing up the back of your thighs until she’s pulling you, right over over her mouth.
“kate, wha- you’re so— fuck.”
any semblance of words or sense seem to leave you in one second, as she flattens her tongue against the wetness that’s collected, the friction almost unbearable when her head tilted upwards, nose brushing hard against your clit in a way that pulls a cry from your lips. she’s unfaltering, diligent, unabashed in the way she’s moving your hips, the way she pairs each grind against her nose with a curl of her tongue, and really, it’s over before it fucking starts.
her mouth is glossy, damp when she’s done, and she smiles and it’s arrogant as she’s sliding you back down to sit you against her hips, the mere control she had of your body making you bright red as you pant pathetically, reduced to fucking nothing by her mouth.
it makes you throw your head back with a whimpering sigh, “don’t fucking look at me like that.” you complain, legs still open, thighs still trembling as she races her hands along them, “tired already?”
funnily enough, you were far from fucking tired.
“actually… was thinking about showing you some celebrity treatment?” you muse softly, as she peels off her own top, eyebrows raising, her thumb swiping along the edge of her lip before she’s placing it on the bottom of yours, pressing until it dips into your mouth, the heady taste of what you knew was yourself finding a place on your tongue.
she smirks, tongue poking between her teeth as your stomach fucking turns almost, arousal prickling unforgivingly at you once again.
“ooh,” she muses under her breath, eyes laser focused on the thumb she’d placed between your lips, voice coming out in a whisper, “i like the sound of that.”
she’s smirking though, because sex between you two have never been anything completely serious— that’s just not how kate operates, “ace money martin’s got a ring to it, huh?”
“shut up.”
“make me.”
so, you do.
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from the shining lights, to the sandy beaches, I’ll only love you — p.mellark
masterlist | pairing: peeta mellark x fem!reader
summary: bored and facing the capitol, you give the citizens of panem some drama to spice up the games
warnings: slight mentions of 18+ ideas but nothing graphic + mentions of insecurity
hours you think. it had to have been hours layered laying in woven grass blankets with flattened bread in your pockets that’s sure to be moldy soon from the moisture.
“how long have I been out?” a grunt escapes your lips to signal your awakening to them. you attempt to sit upward, but your hands were badly blistered and your arms were weak.
peeta lunged into the makeshift tent, he gently lays you back down shushing you to not worry about taking the next shift. after all, you’d been the one to trip over rocks in the acid rain, if anyone should get sleep it’s Finnick who carried you like it was nothing.
Finnick. sweet, sexy, district four, Finnick odair. the man women are obsessed with, and you could see why. his beautiful blue eyes and cocky smile, if it weren’t for the baker beside you, you’d be all over that fine man.
there was nothing wrong with peeta. his tenderness, the warmth he provides, he was an amazing boyfriend. but the ever thought of another man seemed to spark a load of questions piling up in your brain.
the storm had been out for awhile now, leaving you with some time of peace. you flip onto your left side, facing peeta, a wicked smile lifts your lips that he can’t even read. but it gives him something to laugh at in this place, “what’s your problem?”
“if you could fuck someone in the capitol would you do it? someone dressed like Effie?”
finnick makes a repulsive noise. hes had a fair share of capitol women, and even the sight of Effie was enough for him. having ran into her with zero makeup on, and nothing but a wig, Finnick odair would rather steer clear of any women from the capitol.
“I’d really prefer we think about our game plan—“
“it’s a simple question.” johanna finally wakes, she sits up carefully, her voice draws finnicks attention briefly from looking out.
sweat thickens above his upper lips. peeta knows there’s a correct answer. being in love with you, he’d never thought of another woman, so why would you ask? he can only imagine to lighten the mood, lift the spirits of the citizens watching in boredom, so he thinks it’s not harmful to play along?
“I’ve only ever wanted intimate moments with you.” peeta extends out his hand, the roughness of his palm touching your cheek, “you know I only love you.”
“this is such a yawn.” Johanna counters, she eagerly sits forward breaking the moment, “not a single woman caught your eye on the tour? you’re going to die anyway, might as well admit it.”
peeta let’s out a light laugh, and you know he’s serious. he’s only ever had eyes for you, but to Johanna, Finnick, haymitch, and potential sponsors, he needs to play in. he needs to draw them something, so he does what he’s a natural at; story telling.
“well there was a girl,” he pauses, eyes swiftly glancing at you before back at johanna, “hard to tell how old she was under those capitol lights, but she just kept following me. every room she was there, and I just couldn’t take my eyes off her.” he looks up the makeshift tent, a sadden glow casts across his face, “I wonder if I’ll see her again.”
you can’t quite remember a woman who followed him in every room besides yourself. maybe that’s who he was discussing? but he’d bought Finnick and Johanna’s approval leaving peeta to slip out the tent.
“what about you, y/n? sleep with a capitol or finnick?”
finnicks head snaps his head in the direction of his name, a spark lights in him earning a bright cocky smile, “I don’t bite, babe.”
it’s your turn to make a repulsive noise, but you know everyone at home is inching closer to their screens: would you screw around with Finnick for a night? or would you dare head back to the capitol? Finnick it is.
“just for a night,” you pause taking a long look at peeta. he’s fixated his eyes on something with the sand, probably just to occupy his mind from this conversation that’ll haunt his last memories with you, “I’d do Finnick, on the count that peeta can be there.”
“a threesome?” Finnicks words echo across the sandy beaches practically giving away your hiding spot, “I’m not sure I’ve ever done that.”
“I’d pay to be a fly on the wall of that night.” Johanna grins.
“I’ll pass. I don’t think I’d well with sharing.” Peeta blurts out.
a wide grin takes hold of Johanna’s face, yours is covered in a deep red blush that you’re thankful no one can make out in the darkness.
“peeta, possessive? never would’ve thought of that.”
it’s a shock to everyone, even you. peeta never showed any care that you were close to other guys, like Finnick or even beetee, but maybe it’s because he always knew you’d come back to him. he always knew it was him you’d love and swear you’d never leave. it must be the insecure feeling that if you saw what Finnick had, you’d leave.
to answer his worries, you wrap your arms around peetas neck and press a long kiss to his lips, “I kind of like it.”
“I’d rather sleep with haymitch than either one of you lovebirds.” finnick answers johannas question that was slightly forgotten from you three in the tent.
“come on, it’s my turn to watch.” johanna crawls out the tent, and for a second it’s just you two alone. you slip beside him, resting your head against his bicep, “who was the girl from the capitol?” you whisper.
a smile lifts to his lips, his shoulder slightly budges you to sit up, “who do you think?”
it was you. only you.
#peeta mellark#peeta mellark x reader#peeta mellark x you#peeta mellark x y/n#peeta mellark imagine#peeta mellark fanfic#peeta mellark fluff#peeta mellark fic#peeta mellark fiction#thg fanfiction#thg peeta#thg x reader#the hunger games x y/n#the hunger games x reader#the hunger games x you#the hunger games fic#the hunger games blurb#the hunger games imagine#the hunger games fanfiction#josh hutcherson#josh hutcherson x reader#the hunger games
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nsfw alphabet : daryl dixon
ao3 link
character: Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader
warnings: | nsfw(obviously) | swearing | sexual details | mentions of daryl’s trauma | intentional lowercase | 18+ |
a/n: recently became obsessed with this man. there aren’t enough nsfw alphabets of him so enjoy :)
(not my gif or character)
A- aftercare (what they’re like after the act)
daryl thinks the aftercare is the best part of it all. it took a while to break down the habit of him just rolling over and falling asleep, but he got there eventually. he holds you and makes sure you're okay, cleaning you up if necessary. he lets you curl up into him, wanting to feel your warm breath on his skin. you listen to each other’s heartbeats, and drift into an exhausted sleep.
B- body part (their favorite part of both of your bodies)
daryl dixon loves every part of you. he doesn’t say that his favorite are your tits or ass, that’s something merle would say, and it just doesn’t sit right with him. instead, he thinks that your eyes are his favorite part of you. he likes that he can communicate with you just through the looks you give each other. he loves that he has to ask you to keep them open and look at him when he's making you feel too good to do so.
your favorite part of daryl are his thighs. big, strong, and sturdy; the perfect seat. his thigh can fit perfectly between your legs, holding your hips with his giant hands. his hands. you suppose that they could also be your favorite.
C- cum (anything to do with it)
since it’s the apocalypse, you and daryl decide that it’s better to be safe and not cum inside you. even though it takes every ounce of his control not to. he opts for pulling out and humming on your stomach instead. but you better prepare for when he finds condoms on a run because he will fuck you like it’s your last time together. which, hey, it could be.
D- dirty secret (self explanatory)
other than wanting to cum inside you, daryl really wants to fuck you alone in the woods, up against a tree. he knows it’s not very practical, especially with the dead walking around. he just can’t help but thinking how hot it would be for you to try and be quiet as not to draw in any walkers.
E- experience (do they know what they’re doing)
most of daryl’s experience came from random drunk hookups that merle pressured him into before the world ended. it involved dramatic moans from the women, and daryl being too stuck in his head to remember anything else. he was open to you teaching him what felt good, and picked up on it fast. as a hunter, he has always been observant, and that doesn’t leave when it comes to your pleasure. he watched every expression, and hears every hitch in your breath to learn what makes you feel good. he asks if you're liking it, which sounds like sinful dirty talk to you.
F- favorite position (self explanatory)
it started out being doggie style, because he just couldn't bear for you to look at him or his scars. but with some gentle begging from you, he decided that he couldn't bear for you to not look at him. missionary is now his favorite, because he can still control the situation, and see the pleasure in your eyes at the same time.
G- goofy (how serious are they)
daryl is obviously very serious when it comes to the outside world, which doesn’t really change when it comes to the bedroom. since you managed to relax him and get him comfortable enough around you to break his walls down, he lets little laughs and smiles come through at your jokes, but not without jokingly telling you to stop.
H- hair grooming habits (how much hair do they have down there)
it is the apocalypse, so grooming isn’t necessarily the most important. the carpet matches the drapes. plus he doesn’t expect you to shave, so why should he? in fact, when you did shave one time, he freaked out and begged you to never do it again(unless you wanted to of course), which warranted a sigh of relief from you. he says that only bitches eat shaved pussy.
I- intimacy (romantic or rough/dirty)
it was always hard for daryl to bring out his romantic side, but he tries so hard for you. he grunts out praises and a little “love ya s’much” when he cums, letting you know that you’re the only one on his mind.
J- jack off (how often do they masturbate)
literally never. it isn’t very convenient, and he never really has a high sex drive. when he does get turned on, it’s because you’re right there. no point in taking care of it himself when you're in front of him.
K- kinks (self explanatory)
daryl never got a chance to explore his kinky side before the apocalypse since most of his experience was with women who he didn’t trust or love. when he started to trust you in the bedroom(or where the apocalypse allows), you both started to experiment with what you are into.
-size kink: he loves when you look so small compared to him
-daddy kink: this one felt weird to him at first since you were younger than him, but he couldn’t help the twitch in his dick when you called him that while you were cumming (it is definitely used more after that)
L- location (where they like to get it on)
anywhere that is safe and gives you time to explore each others bodies is his favorite. still, the idea of fucking you in the woods sounds hot to him...
M- motivation (what turns them on)
anytime he sees you taking down walkers, or just overall being badass, he gets a little turned on. also when you look at him with your big doe eyes, he has to control himself from taking you in front of everyone.
N- no (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)
daryl isn't into hurting you in any way, especially because of what he went through in his childhood. he sees it as somehow becoming like his father, and that is something that he hates. so big no on hurting you, even if he does think you're pretty when you cry.
O- oral (do they prefer receiving or giving)
one of daryl’s favorite sights is you on your knees for him, with tears streaming down your face as you try and fit all of him in your mouth. however, that sight can't compare to how you look when he’s between your thighs. he thinks he must've died and gone to heaven when he sees your breasts rising and falling with each deep breath. the little tugs on his hair and the praise from your lips makes him decide that he loves going down on you more than anything.
P- pace (do they prefer fast or slow)
when he’s had a long day or just wants to get some anger out, he wants to go fast and rough. usually he goes slow and deep, just to feel all of you for as long as he can.
Q- quickie (do they like them)
quickies have become a must in some cases, especially if you don't have much time because you're on a run, or you have to get a round in before the group wakes up. he always makes sure to make every time you're together special, no matter how short.
R- risk (do they like to try new things)
he’s never been a risky guy, but if you suggested something to try, he would consider. as long as he knows you're safe, he is down for anything.
S- stamina (how many times and how long each round)
even though he’s older than you, his stamina is immaculate. even if he’s tired, he knows how to make you cum enough to tire you out.
T- toys (do they like using them)
since most things gathered on runs get checked, toys aren't really a priority. if you’re with him on a run, you two might find one and use it, but you don't dare bring it home with you. daryl likes to pleasure you by himself anyway.
U- unfair (how often do they tease)
such a tease. when he’s feeling especially cocky, he likes to have complete control over you, which includes controlling your orgasm. he will edge you for what feels like an eternity, just because he loves hearing your pretty voice beg all pathetically.
V- volume (how loud are they)
he adapted to being very quiet because most of the time you were together were around the group, or outside where walkers could hear. his grunts, moans, and dirty talk start coming through when the group finds safety, or when you are on runs in a safer place. he definitely starts going on runs with you just to fuck you and hear your moans.
W- wild card (anything random)
daryl had never been one for talking, but when his dick is deep inside your wet pussy, he can’t help but spout the dirty thoughts that come to his mind. whether it’s praise, degradation, or the occasional swear, he knows it works you up from how you whimper and clench around him.
X- x-ray (what’s going on down there)
long and thick, a couple of prominent veins, and a slight upward curve. this man walks like he has a big dick.
Y- yearning (sex-drive level)
very very low before he met you, but now he wants to fuck you every night if able.
Z- zzz (how fast do they fall asleep)
maybe it was his body adapting to living on the run, or never getting good sleep as a kid, but daryl takes ages to fall asleep. having your body next to him helps, and he starts to feel safe enough to let his guard down and sleep. however, he does wrap a protective arm around you just in case <3
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TUMBLR TEXT POST SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. 2 ;
75 starters. CW: blood mention, cussing, death. Starters come from various text posts floating around Tumblr. The only thing changed for this post was adding capitalization and punctuation. Feel free to change words and pronouns as needed!
[PART 1]
“Academia is cool and sexy until I’m expected to work.”
“An anime with more than a hundred episodes is a bigger commitment than marriage.”
“Anyone who believes all water tastes the same is no acquaintance of mine.”
“Anyway, that’s every reported eyewitness account of Mothman through ‘68, and that’s just in West Virginia! Haha, but enough about me. Let’s hear about your top five cryptids!”
“Aside from being the worst person alive, I am literally perfect.”
“At the end of the day, I’m just a girl who loves her bed.”
“Being equally obsessed with each other sounds hot to me.”
“Being good doesn’t get you anything.”
“Be the worst you can be.”
“But do aliens believe in me?”
“Don’t let anyone dehumanize you. Dehumanize yourself. Be the creeping eldritch horror you’ve always longed to be. Rain furious vengeance down upon those who would unmake you.”
“Do something today that would’ve gotten you burnt at the stake four hundred years ago.”
“Do you ever just want someone to come over and sit on the floor with you for a few hours?”
“Do you ever wanna listen to music, but every song is just not the right song?
“Feeling safe around someone’s energy is a different kind of intimacy.”
“Flirting is childish. We’re grown. Just tell the person you like that you see God in their eyes.”
“Friendly reminder that the age of technology is coming to an end and a new age of blood magic and dark rituals will take its place.”
“Friendship is temporary. Blood pacts are forever.”
“Girls don’t want boys. Girls want to live in a Victorian estate and be the most feared widow in the village.”
“Half of me is a hopeless romantic and the other half of me is, well, an asshole.”
“Having a body causes me so much agony. I wish I was just a floating entity with no physical form.”
“How do I overthink so much and still make the wrong decision?”
““I can fix him!” You can’t even fix your sleep schedule, bestie.”
“I don’t care if your body is a temple. Call me when it’s been closed down and taken over by Spirit Halloween.”
“I don’t know about soulmates, but those people who eat parts of the food or candy that you don’t like and you do the same for them... We’ve lived a hundred lifetimes together, probably.”
“I don’t think we can romanticize our way out of this one, boys.”
“If you see me in the streets, just know that my mind is in the void. I’m physically alive, but mentally checked out.”
“I guess we all learned a valuable lesson. Except for me. I wasn’t paying attention and was asleep for most of the time.”
“I hate when people ask what I would do in their situation because nine times out of ten, I would literally never be in that situation in the first place.”
“I hope manners is the next cool trend.”
“I just love sleep so much. Like, you just close your eyes and you’re gone, bitch. Brain logged the fuck off. Powerful.”
“I just realized there’s, like, a hundred new Pokémon coming this year, give or take, and I have to decide what personal memories and details about friends to forget in order to make room for them all.”
“I like my women like I like my woods. Haunted and could kill me at any moment.”
“I like to fuck around and waste time at least six to ten hours a day, and let me tell you, that puts some pressure on your schedule. You have no idea how busy I am.”
“I love to learn. Unfortunately, my brain doesn’t like to remember.”
“I love when I ‘make a mental note’ of something. It’s gone within twenty seconds.”
“I’m not a religious person, but I do sometimes think God made you for me.”
“I’m not playing hard to get. I genuinely don’t know how to talk.”
“I’m wearing dark glasses today because I’m seeing the future, and the future is looking very bright.”
“I think it’s so neat that everyone develops their own unique handwriting even though we’re all taught to write our letters the same way. Really, it’s so cute.”
“I think making sense is optional. Sometimes I just be talking.”
“I think the meaning of life is eating good food in the company of people you love.”
“It’s because I’m pretty, that’s why I have problems.”
“It’s crazy how I’m just some person.”
"It seems you are in love with your computer.”
“It’s not rude to interrupt someone to point out a dog. It’s actually more polite because then they don’t miss out on the dog.”
“I will never elaborate because I have no idea what I just said.”
“Live, laugh, love? Nah. Languish, lament, lay down.”
“Michael Myers taught me a valuable life lesson. Don’t worry about how fast everyone around you is moving. If you’re determined, just move at your own pace and you’ll kill shit every time. Thanks, Mike.”
“Moving to the forest to eat leaves and lie in the dirt. Insurance companies can’t deny me this.”
“Okay, bored of being alone now. Ready to get married.”
“Okay, hear me out... What if—now bear with me—we held hands? Maybe even kiss a little? Hugs would be nice—”
“People keep posting ‘what’s REALLY in your food’ articles like I’m gonna stop eating whatever it’s about. Listen, death is coming. Death is coming. Pass me a hot dog.”
“People who fall asleep right away freak me out. Don’t you bitches have thoughts?”
“Really starting to understand old people these days. I love letters. Love packages. Terrified of my email inbox.”
“Someone take me out. Either in the assassination way or in the date way.”
“Sorry for being so sexy and having the best taste in literature. As if I asked for it.”
“Sorry I called you a fucking idiot. I was trying to flirt.”
“So what if I love you? Shut up.”
“The fact that I have to be in the ‘right headspace’ to do even the simplest tasks is absolutely humiliating.”
“The only difference between me and a medieval peasant is that I can make a Spotify playlist to express my feelings.”
“The only reason I haven’t gone insane is because I romanticize everything.”
“There should be a dating app where you talk to people who borrowed the same books from the library.”
“There’s something inherently holy about kitchens.”
“Tired of being a person. Would much rather be an unidentifiable and nebulous entity that lives in the woods and may or may not be an omen of misfortune to come.”
“Wanna haunt the neighborhood with me tonight?”
“Well, I used to be attracted to people, but now I’m exclusively attracted to abstract art and the concept of death.”
“What is the logic behind naps leaving you with a weird taste in your mouth? I wasn’t eating, I was sleeping. It’s the spiders, isn’t it?”
��Winnie the Pooh didn’t rock crop tops our whole childhood to watch us become unconfident about our bodies.”
“Yes, I’m dramatic! What did you expect? I read classic literature for fun.”
“You’d look prettier under six feet of dirt.”
“You don’t always need to talk. Like, it’s good to shut the fuck up sometimes. I love not talking.”
“You gotta walk into rooms like God sent you.”
“You’re beautiful, but you’re empty. No one could die for you.”
“You wanna know what’s annoying me right now? It’s me. I am annoying the goddamn shit out of myself.”
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Same Chris chan anon, I’m back. I saw your reply, and yeah, I agree on some parts. Good people can turn bad.
What I meant was that if you’re a person with strong values, you would’ve never done that stuff. It was plain sexism. A person with strong values wouldn’t do that because their actions dictate what kind of person they are.
And while I understand that you don’t SUPPORT chris chan, you can’t be like “well! Actually, women, stfu about his sexism!!! He did it because he was bullied online!!! And shut up about how he sexually harassed his female friends beforehand!!!”
Like. Think critically. This was an actual crime. With actual victims. And now he’s out of jail??? Male privilege at its finest. He should’ve NEVER gotten out of jail.
Also, rape is like, in my opinion, the only crime that can NEVER be excused. Because nobody forced you to do it??? Nobody can use it as self defense. Nobody recovers from it like a wound. It’s not simple. It’s a complex hate crime against women.
On another note, I don’t like bullying. I’ve been a bullying victim for many years. And even worse, IN REAL LIFE. But I never would’ve done that. Because plainly, I’m not sexist.
Chris Chan was porn sick. That’s it. He harassed women, did something unforgivable to his mother, and became “trans” to intimidate lesbians into dating him. That’s a straight white man if I’ve ever seen it. The internet is cruel, but it doesn’t turn men into rapists. That’s their own doing. We need to hold men accountable for what they do. We can’t coddle them or they’ll just keep doing shit. It’s never justified!!! Never!! Even the nastiest woman doesn’t deserve it because it’s a hate crime against women as a whole!
Have empathy towards the victims. We never know what they went through, and their suffering was much worse than what a brain rotted straight white man went through. Because let’s bffr, if a man I knew told me he’s a woman because he wants to bang a lesbian, draws porn of me, and then rapes his mom AND PEOPLE ONLINE DEMAND HES CALLED A WOMAN AND THAT HE DESERVES PITY??? That would be my breaking point.
He’s a whole ass villain 😭😭 why can’t y’all see that
I don't believe in perfect villains or perfect victims.
We don't need to villianize Chris to have empathy for Barbara. We don't need to gloss over Barbara being a horrible person to feel horrible for what happened to her.
It's not a black-and-white world, no matter how much Ayn Rand wanted it to be.
Chris was severely abused and neglected by his parents. Barbara specifically fostered unhealthy attachment, which absolutely did not help in this situation.
I don't think we need to state over and over again that FUCKING YOUR DEMENTIA-RIDDEN MOTHER IS WRONG. I think that's pretty obvious by itself.
But just taking a step back and looking at the whole situation in context is important.
And it's important to realize that the collective internet didn't just "bully" Chris. They manipulated and gaslighted this person for over a decade. They derailed Chris's life and any middling chance they had at becoming a normal person. They egged on their every worst instinct and broke this person's brain and will. That goes beyond regular bullying.
I think, overall, it's the internet looking at a monster we created and then refusing to accept that harassing, bullying, gaslighting and obsessively documenting a living, breathing human being for over a decade because they're "cringe" is a bad thing. So Chris has to have been a monster from the start.
Chris is out of jail, because the judges don't know WTF to do with them. You can't hold a person in jail with no trial for more than a year, rape is really hard to prove with dementia patients, who might not even remember it, incest penalties are their own can of legal worms and trying a person as severely autistic as Chris is borderline-impossible.
The best outcome for everyone would be to put Chris in an assisted living facility. But I doubt that's gonna happen.
Also, I refuse to comment on Chris's trans status. It's between them and their psychologist. I simply don't care, because it changes very little.
Yeah, I do think Chris deserves pity. Condemnation AND pity. We shouldn't just forgive their horrible actions. But we should at least have the humility to realize that we would be capable of some monstrous shit if we were ever treated like that.
YOU don't think you would've done something horrible in that situation, but you HAVE NOT been in the same situation. And thank your lucky stars for that.
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Hello there! We’ve reached Act II of Bootleggers! The second act does deal with a lot of issues that some may find difficult. As we know from Act 1 Junie was married to Mr. Archer, to which things are not so good. Just be aware that there is a lot of action, some violence, violence towards women specifically, in this piece. We continue to focus on our wildflowers, Cora (and her romance with Jacob), Molly, and Susannah. There’s a lot that happens right off the bat, so let’s get to it. Did I mention, Cora finally gets into the Lantern?!
If you're just coming across this, here is the Master List to catch up.
Thank you always to @lvnterninthenight, @gardensgatedaisy and @whitesuitjake for all of the love and support during the time I was writing this.
Also just a quick thank you and sweet hugs going out to @vanfleeter and @jakekiszkasbuttsweat for the support of this story! *mwah*
This is a work of fiction, and is totally mine. Please do not take it for your own personal use. I’ve put in hours of research, hours upon hours of writing, re-writing, screaming, yelling and vomiting over this epic of a story. But it is mine.
Content warnings: Drinking, threats of violence, imagery of violence, hopelessness, anxiousness.
Word Count: approx 6300
Chapter Eleven: Bank, The Moon, and the Lantern, Junie’s Plight - Jacob POV
The weight of the air crushed his lungs and scalded the inside of his body. Josh continued speaking, reading the letter from their father, but Jake was only focused on one thing - there was dissent amongst the families that their affiliation rode upon. One of the top bosses had split, claiming distribution was not what it could be. Their father was merely alerting his boys to possible issues coming their way over the next months. With winter coming, and the driving routes effectively shut down due to snow, their father was warning them of shit coming their way no matter what they did.
“It’s time we get the bank,” Josh said, tossing the paper on the desk. “It may smooth some of the feathers for a while.”
Jacob was shaking his head. The bank. Josh had been obsessed for nearly a year. His contacts were saying that it was time - Archer had been dealt a blow served by his own stupidity. His affairs were unraveling and the venomous gossip was turning into facts. He puffed out his cheeks as he shifted against the window.
“How many more runs you think we can complete?” Josh asked.
Jacob shrugged as Sam and Danny leaned back in their seats. “If I had the Earl, I would get maybe five majors where I’m involved - four smaller ones that it’s just the trucks. But as is, we’re having to make up the large runs with twice as many small runs. Marquette county has become off limits to the trucks without me to be the bait. We add a shit ton of miles by having to run south through Delta and Menominee counties, not to mention a lot more area to get fucked by not having friends. We’re running behind as it is and won’t have enough product to last the winter for Iron County, let alone to fulfill expected deliveries to Chicago. We can’t be running the trucks beyond October anyway unless we want to dig out every few miles.”
Danny nodded. “Our first year we got in that one run in November, but I wouldn’t count on it. Even with the damn chains on the tires, a few of the trucks didn’t make the target.”
“Yeah, and we said we wouldn’t do that again,” Jake remarked with a grimace. “Remember? We almost lost three trucks on swampy assed roads. And - we lost that one skating off into a goddamn lake.”
“It’s all fucking moot anyway,” Sam remarked. “The Earl is dead.”
“She’s not dead,” Jake grumbled. “There’s nothing wrong with the engine.”
“But the fucking shell that makes it a car is dead. There’s nothing left for me to fix if there’s no body left, Jake. I sent word to Father when you dragged her into the shop. There’s something on the way. Should be here at any time.”
“It’s going to be a fucking disaster,” Jake whispered angrily.
“I’m going before the board of trustees for the bank in two weeks,” Josh said before lighting up a cigarette and cutting off the direction of the conversation. “I have all but a few votes for no confidence on the part of Mr. Archer. It will be enough to remove him as bank president. I have an offering to present that will put us into control. The last round of acquisitions put our line above my expected results, and offers more than enough holdings to solidify our position as main shareholder and bank president.”
Jacob sat up straight. Josh nodded to let Danny and Sam leave, but he stayed behind, closing the door behind the men. Turning, he felt his twin’s gaze on him in question.
“I have two weeks?” he asked as he watched Josh stamp out his smoke.
“Two weeks for what?” Josh returned disinterested.
“Junie? Cora’s sister,” Jake answered. “If you make a move now, and Archer is removed, he will disappear with her. You and I both know that girl won’t have a chance of survival if he ‘moves’ her. Hell, I don’t know if she’s actually surviving now. They won’t even let the mother inside to see the girl.”
Josh’s brows knitted in thought. Jake knew if there was one thing that his brother did not tolerate was a man who mistreated women in the fashion that Archer was accustomed to. His brother was thinking things through as he kicked his feet up on the desk.
“I may not show it, Jake, but I’ve grown very fond of Cora. I am envious of you,” he said quietly. “She has a softness and fortitude that is very comely. She’s been good for you.”
He rubbed the pad of his thumb across stray stubbles on the underside of his chin. “You and I both know that the current Mrs. Archer will not have a chance if we make this move on the bank.”
Josh nodded. Jacob could see the storm clouds behind his brother’s thoughts as he tapped the top of the desk. “I’ll get us over there Sunday. Have Cora with you. It will give me time to think this through.”
Jake lit up a smoke before reaching for his hat. “Thank you.”
“Are you avoiding taking her to the Lantern?” Josh asked as he moved towards the door.
He stopped before reaching for the doorknob. “Not avoiding. Just never asked if that’d be something she’d-”
“Jacob,” his twin said, moving around behind him. “It’s not like how things are with Susannah and Molly - or shit, even Catherine. Do not say it - I know that mistake was blatant on my part. But Cora’s a different breed. She’s a different caliper altogether. People in this town know her as something on the side of respectable - no reputation other than a churchgoing woman of no rank. You literally can mold her into anything you want her to be at this point.”
“I don’t want to mold her into anything. I love her as she is,” he whispered.
Josh hummed, drawing his attention back to his brother. “Then we should protect her and her own as is, shouldn���t we?”
He felt his eyes close for a moment and relief poured in. His brother was accepting the situation and offering a life line. This was his Joshua. His hand came down on Jake’s arm, giving it a bit of a squeeze. It was an acquiescence of events that had to be buried in the past and never revisited.
“I know you want out, same as I,” Josh said quietly. “It is still the goal. What I am trying to do, Brother, is to never have to return to this life. Once we are done here - we are done.”
Jake nodded slowly. “It’s going to get messy.”
“Let’s be honest and say what it will be, Jacob. It’s going to be a fucking bloody matter. The bank is just the first of many steps.”
His throat constricted as he opened the office door. Josh was right, of course. It was juvenile to think that they were going to be able to leave the life unscathed. Sam was just coming in the shop door, his face full of light as Jacob refocused his thoughts to the task at hand.
“It’s here, Jake!” his younger brother’s voice was full of excitement. “You’ve got to see this.”
Change was not high on Jake’s list of likes. Since the last disastrous run of the Earl, it was clear that his baby needed to be replaced. Josh was right behind him as he walked quickly past customers with his best professional smile. Sam was already around the corner and through the alley, while the twins tried to keep cool. The first he saw was the shiny black and chrome, followed by the sheer size of the vehicle. Sam was full of glint as he was already in the engine, making sounds of delight as he poked and prodded.
“It’s a goddamn roadster! I can already tell you it’s too fucking heavy!” Jake grumbled, his eyes on the bulk of the car. “There’s no way to have this shit ready for the next run.”
“We’ve got work to do, sure,” Sam said with a shrug. A demon grin came across his mouth. “But I can get this bitch up to sixty five, maybe seventy. We’ve just got to get her skinny.”
Jacob felt his jaw slacken. “One week, Samuel.”
“Considering it’ll take forever to bring the Earl back to life…”
“Then let’s get to work, Sam.”
Chapter Eleven: Pt. 2, Cora POV
Jacob did not arrive on time to collect the box. Instead of waiting for him, or stowing it in the locker, Cora decided to take it around to the shop office herself. Gathering her things, she took hold of the cashbox and headed out, waving at Marcus on her way down to the main door. The bouncer had taken a shine to her since she showed up unannounced. He would drop her treats and sandwiches with a grin, just to let her know he was there. She started bringing him bits of scratch biscuits and jam in trade. His beam at the sight would last her through the entire evening.
Making her way up the alley, she could hear Sam cursing up a storm, underscored by Jake scolding him for being a dumbass. She stepped into the store to find it closed and Renee was already gone. She could smell fresh tobacco, so she was sure Mr. Joshua was still in his office.
“Mr. Kiszka?” she called out before she reached the door to alert him of her presence.
“Good evening, Cora,” he said with a smile. His face warmed as he stood up. “I think it would be fine if we dropped the formalities, even for work, don’t you think?”
Cora nodded as she held out the box. “It was a really busy day back there and I didn’t feel right leaving this in the locker.”
He took it from her and moved towards the safe. “I didn’t think that Jake would get back there at closing time. Means you didn’t see the new lady.”
“Lady? Did you hire another shop girl?” she asked, looking over her shoulder into the shop.
“No. Come on, lovely. Jacob got himself a new toy today,” he said. “I’m quite curious to see how it’s panning out actually. Shall we? I wanted to speak with you anyway.”
“Me?”
He nodded as he stepped out of the office with her and locked the door. “I spoke with Jacob earlier. Sunday, we will be going to the Archer residence. It will just be the three of us, however. I fear that we will have to be a little pushy and use some subterfuge to get ourselves inside, but the man honestly does not like a public scene, so there’s that.”
Cora took his offered elbow as they moved outside and locked the heavy shop door. He waited until they were around the corner in the alley to continue.
“I will be reaching out to our Aunt Dotty. She’s good people, Cora. Her distance from here will provide safety.” She turned and looked at him as his words began to sink into her mind. “Sunday, I need you to assess if your sister is well enough to travel. There are events coming up that will take some finesse, but if it goes right - I will send her to Wisconsin, away from that fuck of a husband. Is that well with you?”
Her jaw dropped as Josh turned his dark eyes on her. This man was offering his help in the only way he knew how - abrupt, precise, and well-planned. She nodded and he patted her hand on his arm. The language spilling out of the garage made her stomach feel sour. The tones were hard and angry as tools sounded like they were smashing on benches and the concrete.
“There’s just one thing,” she said as they stood away from the carriage building doors. “If she wants to leave.”
Joshua’s face grew still, reflective. “Cora, I think I know you well enough to speak plainly. Harold Archer is a villain. Do not underestimate that man. There’s a reason why he has ‘lost’ three wives in six years, and it’s not due to childbirth.”
Shock percolated under her skin. She swallowed words that wanted to bubble out. Joshua smoothed his fingers across her hand once more.
“Sounds like they are going to rip each other apart in there,” he said with a smirk. “What fun.”
They stepped in to find both men red faced with heaving chests. Sam was the first to spot them, his lip curled in anger. Cora drew in a breath at the sight of Jacob, hand drawn back with a heavy metal tool. He whipped his head around, eyes flared on her the moment Sam moved.
“I was going to use the term ‘gentlemen’ but, here we are,” Josh remarked smoothly. “Perhaps I should walk you home, Cora, let these two beat some sense into each other.”
Jacob straightened up, glaring at his younger sibling as he set the implement against one of the workbenches, close to his shirt and jacket. Sam remained on guard, albeit not as tight as Jacob slid into his dress shirt.
“Right, so Cora,” Josh whispered as Jacob dressed, “tomorrow night, I would like you to come down to the Lantern with us. I think you’ll like the canary that will be visiting, and if Sammy doesn’t break any fingers fighting, he’s going to be playing as well.”
Cora found that she could not look away from Josh’s dark eyes. This was not professional businessman Mr. Kiszka. There was a humor in his eyes that she had never noticed, a mischievousness that Jacob did not possess. “I’d like that,” she answered with a nod.
“What’s that now?” Jacob asked as he was yanking at his tie.
“Your girl will be accompanying you tomorrow night to the Lantern,” Josh remarked with a toothy grin.
Jacob paused, eyes froze on his twin. “Really?”
“Why Miss Cora, you comin’ to see little old me play tomorrow?” Sam called from across the garage. “The girls are going to love having you there.”
Chapter Eleven: Pt. 3, Molly POV
“I have something I want you to try, dolly,” she said, dragging Cora towards the spare bedroom of her house.
“I was going to wear the rose gold number,” Cora remarked, giving her a bit of resistance.
“While that is very lovely and all, you’re visiting the Lantern,” Molly reminded, achieving her goal of getting to the clothes den. “You need something… more.”
When Cora raised her eyes to the ceiling, Molly knew this was more about her friend’s need to do things for herself. She more than understood the need - having had to carve everything out for herself. However, to be able to provide for her friends - her sisters - was beyond anything that Molly could have dreamed of achieving. She knew there would be resistance, so she made sure to leave the little black number on the bed specifically for ease of access.
“Trust me, Cora love,” she said with a wave of her hands. “This one is specifically for the Lantern. Your silk number is perfect for The Boudreau, even the tea parlor, or church and Sunday visits. This chiffon is what is required at the speakeasy.”
She watched as the woman’s jaw dropped. The black chiffon had intricate Art Deco designed glass beadwork that covered the entire piece. Cora picked the material up, her eyes closing against the feel of the textile.
“And look at these oyster fruits - aren’t they the cat’s meow?” She held up the choker that had strands that hung down the back.
Cora looked skeptical until she held the cocktail dress up and turned it around to reveal the extreme low cut that would expose the back until just above the swell of the bottom. Her eyes bulged.
“Now hold it there, missy boo,” Molly was quick to say as her friend was shutting down the idea of wearing the garment. “This is the Lantern. This rag will be more modest on the attire spectrum that you will be seeing tonight. The difference here is, Cora, you can pull this off without garment aids.”
“Molly!”
“I want you to just try it on, don’t worry about the choker, or the lovely hair piece that will go with it,” she held the feather and pearl and beaded band up for her to see. “Just put the dress on. Give it a chance. Susannah will be here to do your hair any moment.”
Cora made a sound as Molly hurried from the room. Honestly, the girl needed to figure it out. She was less of a prude than she knew, or at least needed to be. Molly was sure the moment she had the dress on, she would change her mind. The moment Jake saw her would be the tipping point. The man would most likely melt on the spot at first sight. He would also probably be fighting every other man in the room who happened to look at her a certain way.
Susannah was just walking into the house as Molly walked back to the main room. She was dressed in a sleek steel blue number that complimented her pale skin. Molly smiled as she tried to not listen to Cora’s scoffs and guffaws.
“What’s going on?” Susannah asked, setting her small bag of supplies down for doing hair and makeup.
“I’ve got Cora trying on something a little different,” Molly whispered with a devilish grin.
The two friends laughed quietly as Cora let out a huff before opening the door.
“I can’t do this!” she trilled, unwilling to walk out.
“Come on, dolly. Let us old hens be the judge of that,” Susannah called out.
Molly felt her lips drag in between her teeth to keep from getting upset. The woman was more stubborn than need be at times, and it was one of those times. Finally, she stepped into the light of the sitting room, her face stoic in her upset. Susannah’s head tilted as the air seemed to escape from the room.
“Might as well start calling you ‘Sticks’ because you got fucking gams, baby,” Susannah said, her tone shocked.
The dress hung on Cora’s frame exactly how she had imagined it would; clinging to her hips just right to lay against her legs to make them look like they were long and strong but delicate at the ankle. The high neckline made her torso look long and lean. Molly let out a soft breath.
“Maybe that dress was not the right one. You’ll make the two of us look like we’re dressed for the slops,” she said softly. “Damn. You’re beautiful.”
Cora’s cheeks flushed red. “Are you sure it’s not too risque?”
Both women shook their heads slowly. Susannah set in to doing Cora’s hair while Molly dressed in her ruby colored mini that had the fringe that kissed her calves. She was thankful that the two women were laughing by the time she finished, bringing out shoes for her and Cora. Susannah made gooey eyes at her as she slid into the black heels to complete her look.
“Looks like you were right, mama,” Susannah sighed as Cora stood up to reveal the completed look. “The rest of us might as well check out tonight. All eyes are going to be on this one.”
“Jacob is so going to be gobsmacked,” Molly cooed. “That poor man is not going to know what hit him.”
Much like the evening of taking Cora to the dancehall, the three friends walked into the evening together. Danny met them outside of the dancehall, leading them through the crowded space towards the employee only door. Molly held her lover back to allow Susannah and Cora to walk ahead of them just to take in the reaction of those who saw her handiwork.
They all said hello to Marcus as they took the back stairs down to the Lantern. The bouncer tipped his hat to Cora who laughed and reached out to hand the man something from her clutch.
“Thank you, Miss Cora,” he said smoothly as he watched them go down the stairs. At Molly’s raised eyebrow, he laughed. “The woman is kind enough to bring me cookies and biscuits. You lot don’t do that – at all.”
“I’ll remember that, Marcus, for next time! Promise!” Molly called out as Danny held the door open for the ladies to pass.
Danny’s hand landed in a press against her hip as they walked into the speakeasy. “I don’t know what you’re expecting tonight, but you really did up Cora, didn’t you love?” he asked as they trailed behind Susannah.
“No expectations, just dolling her up for the evening,” she answered with a grin and a batting of her eyelashes.
Jacob was on his feet before they had crossed the dance floor. His dark eyes were shimmering as they took in the sight of his girl. Molly felt a little smug. Putting the window dressing on Cora gave her such pleasure in seeing the impact that she could have on those around her. She watched as Jacob moved around the table, walking on a collision course with them. The sheer possession that radiated out of the man’s face reminded her of the rare times that she could elicit from Danny. He reached for her, slamming his mouth into hers, effectively letting everyone in that room know it was hands off of little Miss Cora.
Chapter Eleven: Pt. 4, Cora POV
The nerves that jolted her stomach as she followed Susannah into the Lantern made her want to vomit. She felt ridiculous as the first eyes to take her in seemed to stay glued to her. The smell of the room was tobacco and liquor and an assault of several perfumes blending together to make an overwhelming musk. The air was hot with a current that could only be described as a Saturday night - expectations of fun and music filled the air. The laughter was loud and the jazz band was louder. Unlike her previous appearance, Cora felt as if she was still trespassing, but only because the space was new to her. Her eyes went right to Jacob to find that he was already moving towards her. The look on his face was nothing like anything she had seen from him.
Before she could say hello, he had her around the waist, his fingers pressing into the exposed skin of her back and his mouth against hers in a deep kiss. Her heart thundered in her chest as his heat pressed against her, rooting her to the spot. There was no one else in the room. Just him holding onto her. She was slow to open her eyes to look at him.
“You look like you’re a heroine in a movie,” he whispered, dragging a finger down her cheek as his other hand ghosted down her back.
Sharp notes on the piano pierced the air as the lights dimmed. Jacob grinned as he nearly seemed reluctant to lead her to the table, but he held a chair out next to his seat. A waiter brought a few bottles of wine and glasses for the table. Joshua whispered a hello and shared a smile. Cora felt the nerves fall away to finally allow her to realize that Samuel sat at the piano. The room hushed as he settled himself in.
“Rhapsody in Blue,” he said without looking out at the crowd that waited. “Gershwin.”
The notes that started to fill the space made her heart feel like it was journeying through a space that was crowded and wonder filled. Samuel’s face was full of concentration and his body was rigid as he played. Not a sound was uttered by anyone. It was like he held the room enthralled. Pressure on the pad of her thumb drew her attention down to her lap. Jacob tugged the digit along, before caressing across the back of her hand, only to flip it and trace the lines of her palm. Looking into his face, she wanted to touch him, trace the lines of his cheekbones and jaw and brows. Instead, he continued to trace her fingers, the ridges of her knuckles, the planes of her palm.
She twirled her fingers into his, and he let her turn his palm up in her lap, running the pads of her own fingers across his, only to have him enclose her hand and take over. Looking up into his eyes, she discovered he had shifted to return her gaze. Cora felt her insides grow anxious. Her breath grew hot as her brain seized on one notion - she was in love. Her eyes began to tear as his brow flinched with concern. Sniffing, she felt silly and reached for a sip of wine to tear herself away from the moment. It was not like the wine Joshua had during their Sunday suppers, this was sweeter and lighter. Cora swallowed it down, only to look back at him and find herself wanting.
Gently, he tugged her back against him so that his mouth could land against her ear. “What’s happening, Finch?”
“I’m all jumbled up,” she whispered back.
He cupped her cheek as he placed a chaste kiss against her temple. “”What’s causing that, baby?”
“I’m in love with a good man,” she whispered into his ear, watching as the skin of his cheek became a soft shade of pink.
His eyes widened for a moment. Cora’s heart raced all the faster as he stared back at her, his face blank of emotion. He brushed his thumb across her jaw before cradling her cheek in his palm. A small smile graced his face as his brother played furiously to a crowd that seemed just as mesmerized as she felt. The room erupted in cheers, but all she could do was stay in stillness with Jacob. He barely leaned forward, his mouth pressing against her for the briefest of moments.
“You’re my beautiful finch, aren’t you?” he whispered into her skin.
Her heart swelled as he looped his finger through a curl by her ear. She felt loved. Her body hummed with each touch and caress. Her brain barely registered the intricate song that flowed across the air, but knew the moment was something special. The night twirled around her and Jacob, filled with wine and dance and music and friends that had become her family. Her heart did not just feel full. It was brimming out into the air, tethering her to a moment that she dared not forget. Not ever.
Chapter Eleven: Pt. 5, Cora POV
The anxiety spiked in her belly as the housekeeper blocked the door. She tightened her hold on Jacob’s elbow, capturing his attention, albeit briefly.
“Mr. Archer is not receiving visitors today,” the woman remarked, but Josh was already standing in the way of the door.
“I have a receipt of appointment, Mrs. Meyerson,” he said, holding out a piece of heavy writing paper. “We have private business to speak about and we are already running tardy.”
She took the slip, looking at it skeptically. Cora realized the woman was simply looking for her employer’s mark, her eyes obviously unable to read.
“The girl is not welcomed as Mrs. Archer is ill and unable to-”
“Unwelcomed?” Jacob breathed his tone incredulous. “This is Mrs. Archer’s sister. Perhaps instead of looking after her yourself, she can look in on the woman. Tend to her for you.”
“Give yourself a respite,” Joshua echoed. “Lord knows you deserve one, Mrs. Meyerson. This big old house to run by yourself. With no help and all.”
Cora shoved her nerves to the side, placing as much warmth into her smile as she could muster. “Absolutely. Please, Mrs. Meyerson - I’m more than happy to provide you with assistance in June’s matter,” she said calmly.
She looked down at the appointment receipt once more. Nodding slowly, she moved to the side, admitting them into the foyer. She waved at Cora to stay, while she led Joshua and Jacob into the parlor. Standing alone, she tried to not fidget, not appear to be anxious. Mrs. Meyerson returned, motioning for her to follow her up the stairs. Three closed doors down the lavishly wood clad hallway and the woman stopped. Cora noticed a sour smell in the air that made her stomach churn.
“Perhaps if your sister knew how to take better care of herself, she would not be in this predicament,” the woman replied with an air of dispassion.
Cora did not look at her, instead opening the door to the dark room beyond. She heard a whimper that prickled at her heart. The fear that flooded her in the air made her sick. Mrs. Meyerson let out a scoff before turning and walking away.
“Junie? Junebug? It’s me, Cora,” she whispered as she stepped inside.
The slab of a bed surprised her. As her eyes adjusted, she realized the bed was little more than bales of straw with material covering the top of it. June was curled onto herself, her tiny frame shivering.
“Junie?” Cora asked once more, trying to sound anything but scared.
The form in the makeshift bed quivered but did not make large movements. The frame of the girl was sickly, her belly swollen, but her limbs were near bones.
“Oh baby sister,” she cooed as she drew closer. “It’s Cora.”
Junie’s shoulders tensed as Cora reached out to touch her arm. Recognition flitted through her wild eyes. Cora choked as a shattering realization crashed into her chest as her heart strangled with pain. Her sister looked near inhuman from wounds and bruising that stemmed from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. The smell of urine and feces struck her nose as Junie tried to hide herself in the flimsy, soiled nightdress she wore. Again, Cora tried to wrap her hand around her sister’s frail arm.
“Junebug,” she soothed. “Junie, it’s me. I’m here.”
Junie’s eyes were little more than voids as she wildly looked at her. It was obvious the girl had come to know cruelty. Her lips were heavily scabbed and her cheeks were sunk against her once pretty face. The pain that her sister was experiencing turned her skin to flame with hopelessness.
“Cora?” the word came out as a dry, fragile shriek.
Cora cursed under her breath before she could stop herself. She turned towards the door, waiting, listening to anyone who may have heard. Bringing her hands back up so that Junie could see she meant no harm, she tried to lean in closer.
“Junie, just listen to me. Be strong. One more week, and I’m coming for you,” she whispered, trying to keep her features calm. “One more week and a bit. Ten days. You count the days. I will be coming for you and you’ll never set foot in this damned house again. But it has to be our secret. Just ours - do not tell anyone.”
“Sister…”
Cora hushed her. There were footfalls approaching. “Ten days. I’m coming back for you, Junie. You be strong and hold on. Do you hear me?”
Her sister’s haunted eyes flared as Mrs. Meyerson stepped inside. “That’s quite enough of this lot, miss. You’re obviously only upsetting her.”
Cora had never wanted to cause anyone harm of any kind before that moment. Not even Kilbourne and his smarmy ways of taking advantage of the family caused her such a wish to do harm. The woman before her sent fury through her veins and punched at her spirit. Glancing back at Junie, she shored up her emotions before following the housekeeper back into the hallway and down the stairs. Jacob and Joshua were standing just inside the doors of the parlor, their voices hushed as she descended. She could hear Archer’s voice, low and threatening but the actual words were muffled across the distance.
Jacob caught her gaze, tapping his twin’s elbow before he turned his body towards her. Silently, he offered his hand for her to take.
“Thank you, Mr. Archer,” Joshua was saying in a smooth, professional manner. “I look forward to the board meeting next Wednesday. I think you and I have some wonderful opportunities to grow these plans, sir.”
Jacob had her out the door before Archer could see her. Cora felt her eyes and mouth twitching as she forced herself to remain stoic. Her chest started heaving by the time they reached the white fence of the front lawn. She heard him curse as he wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Let’s get you to the house,” he whispered, holding her up as he started walking quickly. “Hold on, baby, just a little further.”
She heard him call out for his brother and the fast clack of heels on the concrete walk rang out in answer. The two men worked together to get the three of them to the Kiszka household without allowing anyone to notice the mess that they actually were at the moment. Inside, Jacob whisked her up the stairs to his room. Josh was right behind, pouring glasses of amber colored liquid on the sideboard. She had not realized that she was gasping for breath in between sobs. Jacob helped her to sit on the edge of the bed before kneeling before her, hands wrapped around hers tightly. The two gently patted and rubbed against her in an attempt to soothe.
“They treat her like an animal,” she cried. “Worse than an animal.”
Josh handed her one glass before bringing his own to his lips. She mirrored him, taking a large sip of whatever it was he had given her. She gasped and sputtered as the liquid shocked and burned its way down her gullet.
“Not helping, Josh,” Jacob scolded, taking her glass away. “What the hell happened in there?”
Cora realized the question was pointed at her and both men waited for her answer. “It doesn’t matter if she’s strong enough to travel or not. She’s dying in that house. She doesn’t even know if she’s human. She can’t travel - not alone.”
Both men paused with heat in their eyes and curses on their lips. Cora felt the defeat cool in her veins as Jacob slid his hand against hers, threading their fingers together.
“There’s no way for my family to hide her,” she whispered. “I can’t leave them behind. There would be no way they could just go like that - it’s been so hard as it is… Jacob, I can’t leave you behind.”
He took in an audible breath and squeezed her hand, his forehead coming to rest on her knee. Josh placed a calming touch to his brother’s back.
“There are some pieces for me to figure out,” Josh said, before taking down the rest of his drink. “After we do this, it’s going to be important we all just keep to our roles.”
All three froze hearing Samuel and Daniel banging around downstairs. Josh picked up Cora’s glass and set them on the sideboard.
“I’ll, uh, run interference with those four. Cora, don’t worry about anything today,” Josh said, his voice gentle. “I’ll have something planned out soon.”
“Thank you, Joshua,” she said before he walked out.
“It’s what we’re supposed to do for each other right? Now that we’re family?” Josh asked with a smile.
The room was silent. Cora found her fingers smoothing across Jacob’s hair as he remained still, resting against her knees.
“You can leave, Finch,” he whispered. “You can get Junie out of here.”
“No,” she said firmly as he sat back on his heels to look at her. “Joshua said it himself, we’re all going to have to remain in the roles we play. If I am gone, my family has no means for anything, let alone cover the rent. I cannot leave them vulnerable.”
“You can lean on me,” he said softly. “I’m more than happy to watch after them.”
She was shaking her head. “It’s my responsibility.”
“Cora, I’m not saying leave forever. Just get her to safety. She is going to need someone she knows - someone she trusts - to be with her.”
Cora watched as he pressed his mouth against her hands. Her heart was fracturing. “It would be selfish of me to ask you to come with me,” she eeked out as he rose up against her.
“Baby, I’d go anywhere with you,” he said, his hand cupping her cheek. “But this time, let me take care of your family while you settle Junie. It is what I can do. I’ll protect them, make sure they are secure. You can do this. Take care of your baby sister.”
She nodded as a sob sighed from her. He smiled before kissing her, slow at first, deepening as he tugged at her to slide down against his frame to land on his lap. He passed his knuckles down her jaw before he wiped at the few tears that had escaped.
“I love a good woman,” he whispered, studying her face, his fingers tracing the shell of her ear. “I love a strong woman.”
She threw her arms around his shoulders. Josh called her family. Jacob loved her. She was going to shelter her sister. A steadfast strength began to pump through her as he held tight to her. Cora could not help but to cry and laugh and sigh against him, absorbing every ounce of confidence he would give her.
Hi again. I hope you liked today’s chapter. Leave me a comment about your thoughts, or just a like. I do have a tag list - you can find it here. I will have Chapter 12 AND Chapter 13 up on Friday, sometime around noon CST. There’s a reason for having both. You’ll see.
@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @whitesuitjake @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @streamingcolors-gvf @gretavanbitches @samsurfgreenbass @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatchercarol @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @myownparadise96 @reesetrippingthelight @kyrose11 @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @puzzle-gvf @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @brookes-so-done @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @lightmylove-gvf @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter @sammysvanfeet @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @jaketlove @redsierra1960 @gvfmarge @becinabubblegvf @wildbluesorbit
#greta van fleet#gvf#jake gvf#jake kiszka#josh kiszka#josh gvf#sammy gvf#sam gvf#daniel gvf#danny gvf#greta van fleet fanfic#greta van fleet fan fiction#greta van fleet fanfic au#greta van fleet au fic#greta van fleet x ocs#bootleggers and wildflowers
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Post S4Ep5 where I think Tom and Greg are going to go from here:
So alot of people have been complaining that Tom and Greg have both been pretty sidelined in the past few episodes, and while I agree, I think they will be having more significant storylines in the last half of the season. Specifically, I think we are going to see a betrayal arc between the two them.
The set up for it has been made pretty clear with the recent episode: Greg is starting to get into good graces of Ken (+Roman) while Tom is getting pulled in by Shiv.
We have been seeing a turn for Tom and Gregs relationship. Tom’s focus on Greg seems to pale compare to previous seasons where he was practically obsessed with Greg. They both have no power now that Logan is dead. However, Tom still treats Greg like a little bit of a lackey despite not having much power himself (he made Greg tell Kerry she is not fit to be anchor so she wouldn’t be mad at Tom and Logan, he told Greg to act like an idiot in front of the Matsson and the swedes so that Tom looks better in comparison). However, in those instances Tom can’t maintain that fickle power over Greg—Logan dies and Kerry is ousted from the inner circle so it doesn’t matter if Greg pissed her off, Greg looked like an idiot in front of Matsson but Matsson was intrigued by Greg since he is family and cares even less about Tom. Along with that, while Tom has been floundering to find footing in the shifting power dynamics, Greg is actually doing somewhat well (despite coming off incredibly cringey). He knows about Ken and Roman intentionally trying to tank the deal, he was getting along with and dancing with the girl that Matsson has been sending litres of blood to (sidenote: Matsson is such a hilariously weird fucking freak), he established some rapport with Marcia who may or may not be the administrator of Logan’s trust (it is never confirmed but we will probably find out soon). Also—Greg was somehow able to not only find out Matsson’s weird sex habits, but confirm the kill list as well as how many people are on it which is kind of impressive if you think about how much the other Waystar co. was struggling to talk with Gojo people. Greg’s big skill is that he is easily able to gather information, especially since no one expects him to actually use the things he learns since he sounds like such an idiot. (Also someone pointed out that Greg actually has all the necessary information to figure out that Ken was involved with the waiters death in S1).
With that in mind, Greg is probably going to become more valuable to Ken (+ Roman) as he continues to accumulate more valuable information.
We also have to remember that while this is happening, Tom has now once again gotten into the clutches of Shiv. Shiv is willing to let Tom back into her life because she knows that she can control him—the only reason he still has a job is because of her, plus she knows that baby has potential to emotional devastate Tom. And considering how this is a existing pattern in their relationship, we can expect for Shiv to in fact do something to devastate Tom. If we follow where that pattern goes, then Tom will turn around and throw that devastation right back at Greg.
Tom and Greg’s relationship can’t exist without Tom and Shiv’s. And the way Tom treats Greg is a reflection of his unhappiness with how Shiv treats him. A big issue in the Tom and Shiv relationship is that she had cheated on him and then blindsided him with an open relationship. So now that Greg has been openly having casual sex with numerous women, there is a strong likelihood that Tom will berate Greg for this when his relationship with Shiv reaches the fallout point. Tom has already been shown to annoyed with Greg’s sex life numerous times throughout the season, so combined with heightened emotions, it is pretty feasible that he will outright blow up on Greg.
With that—there is a possibility that they can link this back to the compulsory heterosexuality that has been hinted within the season. Logan brings up Greg’s gay dad in episode one—which is a odd call back if it is not going to be utilized later. Before that scene, Greg’s dad was just an offhand comment made in season 1. It would make way more sense to bring up Ewan disinheriting Greg since that was something that happened more recently and it occurred in the same season where Logan’s relationship with his kids suffered. Along with that, it is a bit odd that we are getting so much focus on Greg being interested in women and hooking up etc. He brings it up constantly as if he wants to remind people that he is indeed heterosexual yet we never get any indication that he is ever had sex with them? In the first episode he just rumages with the girl and it is implied that he didn’t even come. In the recent episode he makes a point about wanting to meet women yet is only seen dancing (pretty platonically) with one in a group setting.
So here is where we are at: Tom will probably throw Greg’s slut era in his face, if the show is actually trying to make Greg being closeted and trying to pretend to be heterosexual then Greg will probably fall into a crisis because of this, and finally Greg’s betrayal of Tom seems imminent.
BUT, I don’t think Greg will actually betray Tom. It seems way too obvious of a move and utterly predictable, especially since Greg has already betrayed Tom on like three separate occasions. Rather, I think Greg is going to be in a position where he has to choose between the Roys, his heterosexuality, the power and Tom and he will choose Tom. Early on, people speculated that the reason that Greg is looking at his own reflection in the posters is because he is going to have a moment where he recognizes how far down the hole he has gotten. Greg is slimier than ever this season, which I personally think makes having to chose whether or not the stay in this world more compelling—it only really feels like a big choice when he is actually despicable, otherwise the stakes just aren’t there. There has always been more hope for Tom and Greg to get out because at the end of the day they are outsiders to this world. And maybe they will realize that they are the only people to care about the other in this fucking family.
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LO RANT:
I want everyone and their mama to remember that Persephone isn’t actually a grown up. She’s forever fucking 19, I swear I face palm myself every time someone tries to bring that up. Everyone wondering why Demeter is so desperate to stop Persephone going through with this is insane to me because the way I see it Demeter is witnessing her forever teenaged daughter get whisked away into marriage with a man THOUSANDS of years older than her, who in the past has treated her like dog shit and black balled her attempts of rightfully getting title as queen of the mortal realm, has treated women like absolute objects to sexualize and show off to his brothers, abuses his power as king and boss of everyone in the underworld, has shown to have very violent and abusive behaviors and tendencies, has obvious dependency issues, is very obsessive, greedy, gaslighting, manipulating, has a fetish for flower nymphs which Persephone produces and has been stated by the comic to look like them, openly accepts unpaid labor from innocent souls he exploits, and honestly the list goes on.
Bottom line is I have no clue why everyone is not on Demeter’s side. Excluding that stupid ass intervention cause I’ll be honest I don’t even believe that’s actual Demeter, that was literally just a filler chapter to make us ship Persephone and Hades like Persephone isn’t going to be in a dangerous relationship with this man who barely knows her and wants to get to know her. Reread that entire fucking paragraph again you guys because half of it was me stating things that Hades does, so why is he husband of the year again? He doesn’t do anything good for Persephone and he doesn’t even try and change for her. All the changes has been coming from Persephone and her brain isn’t even fully developed yet. And for the folks saying that it’s not the same as humans, I don’t care cause that statement eats balls anyways, if 19 is a healthy and completely normal adult age in god years I’m pretty sure all the gods around Persephone must be fucking ancient because they’ve been there for CENTURIES. I’m sorry but I cannot and will not accept that these literal 10000 year olds will look at Persephone and not see a toddler, if I’m over 100 years old I’m not going to be standing around treating someone who’s barely 19 like some 30 year old mainly because we’re not using our moral or our time scales so that wouldn’t make sense in the first place.
But yeah, Persephone is not mature and although I’m glad some people are starting to realize it it’s still a little odd that y’all are trying to overcompensate her personality and make her seem responsible and put together when she quite literally acts like she’s never left the womb and you can’t blame it on being sheltered anymore at least at this point in the story because Persephone has the most access to knowledge and if she really strived to actually be a competent being in either the underworld or Olympus she would’ve used that smart brain of hers and did some research. She’s literally just an underdeveloped teenager who’s childish and isn’t capable of being 30 years old because physically and mentally she can never age so she’ll basically forever be barely legal. Thank you for reading this bullshit rant I hope many people see it and start realizing this because the way some people just throw the whole 30 years old thing and growth around with her character is atrocious when she’s never made a smart decision in her damn life without someone spoon feeding her the answers.
Of course Demeter would be concerned and scared of Persephone being with Hades since they’re both absolutely fucking terrible for each other and obviously a lot of the people on their “team” don’t actually give two shits about them because if they genuinely did they would’ve never let them meet in the first place.
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Five Questions for Nine People I’d like to get to know better.
@foxgloveinthesun Thank you for asking! There are friends of mine who would say you have made a grave error in extending this invitation, but I’ll do my best to not hog the microphone too much.
Last song: Dashboard by Modest Mouse, on repeat. Something about the melody really captures some of the low-level restlessness and frustration I’ve been feeling on and off since approximately 2015. And it’s a bop.
Favourite colour: Green, but like, kind of a yellow-green chartreuse situation. It evokes life and vibrancy for me. Also the colour of my sofa, which one of my long-time IRL friend hates, and which I have therefore specifically bequeathed to her in the event of my untimely death. (When I was initially sofa-shopping, my then-boyfriend confidently advised me it was “a neutral”. I now suspect he may have been colourblind.)
Honourable mentions to:
- the dark grey-blue the clouds get when it’s about to rain and everyone around me is cranky about it (because apparently, I am a troll)
- orange (my grandmother’s happy colour, and mine too; also the colour of her glorious, deep-pile shag carpets); and
- fuschia, because fuck my early-2000s-teenager NLOG internalized misogyny, I am allowed to fucking like pink.
Currently watching: Dark Shadows. I love a good campy soap opera, and oh my gosh, this one has exceeded all my expectations. So happy it’s available to stream. (For free! On Tubi.)
I’m also putting off finishing Doom Patrol. I have five episodes left, but I love the characters so much and don’t wanna let go.
Sweet / savoury / spicy: Savoury. I bow humbly at the altar of monosodium glutamate. But I also particularly love a sweet-savoury combo, like hoisin sauce.
Relationship status: Ended a long, tortured long-distance relationship with a cis man (who turned out to be a hardcore conspiracy-theory enthusiast) in January.
Trying to unburden myself of all of that baggage, and to work up the courage to put myself out there and date women, because I think that would probably work out better. I’ve never had the courage to do that before, even though I’ve always known I was attracted to women (since before I even knew I could be attracted to men), because I am, above all else, a coward 👍; and also, the above-mentioned internalized misogyny.
Buuuut last two times I’ve attempted a relationship with a man, I’ve get a lot of pressure to perform femininity in ways that didn’t feel natural to me, and gotten a lot of hostility directed at me due to my straight male partners feeling that being involved with me threatened their claim to straightness.
…and also, I really, truly no longer need to impress my dad. So, like, fuck it…?
But it’s still scary as fuck.
Current obsession: Succession; or, perhaps more accurately, my unfinished, un-posted, and perhaps excessively-ambitious Succession fanfiction, which I’ve been working on since last July.
I remember, in March 2023, hearing a local radio host talking about how excited he was to watch season four of Succession, and just thinking “That show sounds insufferable; why would I care about the power struggles of a group of ultra-rich assholes?”
Little did I know that the specific dynamics of the father-son relationship depicted therein;
…and the son (Roman)’s own relationship to his privilege (something he’s afraid to give up, but unable to fully realize because he just can’t quite pass as the cis straight man he’s supposed to be);
…and his relationship to his quasi-messianic father’s right-wing political convictions, which he has adopted as his own;
…and how this all exists in tension with his ambiguous, but undeniable, queerness (as the reason he can’t ever fully enjoy the privilege his wealth and maleness would otherwise afford - despite him never owning up to it, everyone around him reads him as gay, and reminds him of this constantly at the slightest hint of conflict);
— yeah, it just all maps so perfectly onto things I’ve struggled with myself over the past three decades; many which I have been ashamed to even acknowledge.
[Pause for breath.]
(Even though I have never been anywhere even proximate to the level of wealth depicted, I’ve had a lot of privilege from being white, comfortably-middle-class, beauty-standard attractive, and capitalism-compatible; but being an AFAB person playing the role of a cis woman (successfully, if rather uncomfortably), and not a cis or cis-passing man, has locked me out of the full exercise of the privilege that right-wing politics asserted would be mine, if only I conformed.)
(And also my dad is a self-styled philosopher king / violent lunatic who thinks Walter White, Machiavelli, and Richard Nixon are inspirational figures, and who subscribes to the right-wing daily newspaper founded by one of the men the patriarch in Succession is based on.)
So. I have a lot of ideas.
(Pictured: Me.)
Plus, the show has plot holes big enough to drive a fleet of Lincoln Town cars through (or perhaps a mega-yacht, pursued by angry orcas 🛥️ 🐳🐳🐳); and nothing spurs my creativity quite like a plot hole, so that’s just perfect for my fanfiction-writing process.
(And it also features a very kinky quasi-sexual situationship that, uh… does things for me. So. That’s a bonus.)
Last thing you googled: The publication date of Henry Ford’s favourite work of anti-Semitic hate propaganda. I’m listening to a chapter in an audiobook (“How Fascism Works”, by Jonathan Stanley, 2018 - Random House) that discusses it.
I don’t know if anyone else likes talking about themselves as much as I very evidently do, but I would like to extend the invitation to answer these same five questions to the following esteemed hell-sitecitizens: @inkandcayenne , @theveryparanormalgabriel , @scabby-lasagne , @scabby-lasagne , @trwinsome, @rockstar-moron , @saul-okayman , @threeguesses , and @reidoxreader.
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Thank you! So, for the last several years I thought of myself as bisexual, but I still feel like I’m lying to myself. That maybe I’m just straight. I don’t get turned on by women as much as men. Although I’ve realized that my obsession with men (it is, in fact, kind of an obsession, I myself feel it) is a result of an abusive father, then a stepfather, and my overconsumption of porn since I was like 6. That’s actually a whole another topic, I fucking hate pornography so much. It feels like it ruined my brain. I still feel like I get turned on by extreme stuff. It’s disgusting and I feel like a vile human being. But getting to the initial topic - I don’t fantasise of women in such context as much as of men. I don’t think I ever masturbated fantasising of a woman… And it feels like a cornerstone for me. I often think I’m just delusional , or I want to feel included somewhere. That I’m just straight. I’ve never been in a relationship with either sex. As of now I feel like men dont interest me as much and I don’t want to date them, but I still feel this “obsession”. I don’t know how to get rid of it.
I didn’t have any crushes on female characters or real life girls as a kid, I think. So that’s another thing… But I did have a crush on one girl in my college. I think I’d still feel butterflies in my stomach if I saw her. But one crush compared to my many infatuations with men doesn’t seem enough. Also, even if I fantasise about being in a relationship with a woman, it feels almost strange. Because I feel as though I’m not good enough. Or that I’m an imposter. I’ve had one girl who had interest in ME (which I can’t believe in to this day), but I didn’t like her back. I still lived with my mother than, and I remember telling her about my complicated feelings on this and she just disregarded it all. Saying that I’m straight and it’s time I stopped lying to myself and trying to be trendy, that I’m not a lesbian. (I’ve never called myself a lesbian, I don’t know why she said this).
I guess getting a crush on a woman and this feeling being mutual would help me realize if I’m actually bisexual. I mean, like entering a real relationship. But that’s another thing - I mostly get crushes on butches. And it makes me always think, and I know this sounds so wrong and disgusting, but - what if I like butches because they are similar to men? What if I just like men and this is some sort of projection?
I’m sorry if this was too graphic and long. You don’t have to respond to this. Also thank you for your time
hello darling! first off - you can relax. it sounds like youre putting a lot of pressure on yourself. bisexuality isnt 50/50. some are more same-sex attracted; some more opposite. and it can change: for example, the older i got, the more attracted i became to women, and possibly due to allowing myself to feel that attraction (because in my experience admitting to yourself you are bi is one thing, learning to allow that attraction another; we are raised in a heteronormative society and kind of have to learn on our own how to deal with our same sex attraction) i also initiated more with women. i think theres a lot less chances because there are just not as many same sex attracted women, and then you have to be attracted to her and she has to be attracted to you, etc.
im sorry you were exposed to porn this early, and that the men in your life did this to you. this probably has a huge influence on your sexuality and especially how you perceive it. again i would recommend you to allow yourself to breathe, what will happen will happen, if youve felt attracted and had romantic feelings for women before and you know a woman who gives you butterflies you are likely right in your assessment. i also think straight women dont think about it this extensively. as bisexual women men are the „easier“ option (as in, more potential partners and established norms of behavior, social expectations etc; and men tend to be more offensive in flirting and initiating stuff) and i think if you never had a woman return your interest there is this doubt which is on top enforced by womens bisexuality often being questioned and mocked, something we internalise.
please feel free to reach out via direct message if you are comfortable with that, youre more than welcome to. and please, dont stress yourself! you have nothing to prove to anyone!
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My second coming out.
I think I was 18 when I came out as a lesbian. I don’t remember definitive moments of telling my friends. In many ways they knew before I did. Maybe it was all the drunk rambling about hot women when I lost my inhibitions. It must’ve been, because for all of my teenage years, I had been hanging up posters of male tv show actors and male band members and declaring they were attractive. I remember one afternoon where I was looking through a Kerrang magazine and I was gushing over how hot the lead singer of All Time Low was. Or maybe it was the guitarist. I really can’t remember. And at that time I genuinely thought that I was attracted to whichever one it was, and any other man that I had talked about. I really did. Because being attracted to men, being straight, was the norm and I had never questioned if I was actually feeling that way, or just blindly going along with what everyone else thought. And I suppose at 14/15/16/17 I had never experienced true attraction so I really had no way of actually knowing back then. And maybe that’s weird. Maybe I was weird. Or maybe, again, I just never had the time and space to consider the other gender or any gender, consider who I was.
But at around 18 I had sort of a revelation about women, without really understanding what it meant. Suddenly it was female actors and musicians I was obsessing over, talking about constantly and hanging up pictures of. And that felt right. It really did. I was finally certain about what attraction felt like. And when my brain and emotions caught up to what that meant for me, there just became casual talk in my friend group about me being a lesbian. Never any judgment or doubtful questions from their side. It just fell into my place. And I was so grateful and relieved to be accepted, that life just sailed on after that. But I also never did a lot of “soul searching” about it. Honestly the process of coming out seemed to happen completely without me in a way. Suddenly it just was. And that was it. I had a label now, and that would define my future. I really wish I would’ve given myself more time. Asked for more time, grown up a bit more before settling into something that in a way was just as much a directive of who I was supposed to be, as being straight had been.
I know many people want any lgbtq+ person to know their sexuality or gender when they start feeling and especially expressing being outside of the given norm. As if knowing a persons label restores the balance of things and the world makes sense again. It’s like they’re saying “well if you’ve gotta be different then you at least owe us an explanation of exactly what is so different about you”.
Fuck that. Whether you’re 5 or 12 or 25 or 50 or 90, you don’t owe anyone anything, you don’t have to explain, you don’t have to cram yourself into a nice little box with a nice little label, just so other people know where to store you.
I know that some people think that it’s ridiculous and attention seeking if a person decides to not label themselves, like it’s trendy to not only “want” to be different but also to “decide” that you’re so different that you’re not comfortable with these “perfectly well-fitted labels that everyone else can use so why can’t you, and just give us some peace”
Some people find power in labels and that’s amazing. Other people find just another set of expectations and dictations of who you’re supposed to be and who you’re allowed to be.
And without knowing it at the time, I had let myself be put into a box, before I had even come to terms with who I was.
I told my family in quite an unexpected way. As a protest against their generally homophobic talk. I wasn’t by any means ready to come out, I had barely been figuring things out, very barely confident enough to be myself. But I pushed myself to do it one night, because I was sick of hearing them talk like that, and a part of me thought that if they knew I wasn’t straight, then it would force them to have to reevaluate their thinking and speaking.
That night, that coming out, it wasn’t for me, it was for every other person out there, sat at a dining table feeling ashamed and rejected. It was a challenge in a way. One that I won, my family doesn’t speak like that anymore, they support me and I like to think that they’ve grown to see the world in a different way as the years have gone by.
But it happened. I was now out of the closet to the people closest to me. And I was a lesbian.
I was 18 or 19 back then. Now I’m 27. And I feel stuck and ashamed and uncertain. I’m hiding. And I’m so terrified that my closest friends will think differently of me, if I ever tell them that I’m not sure. I’m so scared that I will let them down, that they will feel betrayed or that they will think that I’ve been lying to them for all these years (and I guess that part is true), that I’m a fraud who was just desperate to be a lesbian.
I came out years ago.
But then 2 days ago I watched Red White & Royal blue, and season 2 of Heartstopper in the same day.
And I got this sort of pressing sadness in my chest, this overwhelming need to be able to be myself, because i knew and I know that I’m not free, I’m not out of the godforsaken closet in the way that is who I am. I think I’m bi, actually.
And what a terrible shame. Terrible, terrible shame. Shame on me. How dare I be the person who proves that every lesbian can be turned by a good-looking man? How dare I ask people to have to change their perception of me? How dare I be 27 and not know for certain who I am?
It’s messing with my head so much that I’m afraid I can never be honest. It’s messing with me so much that I feel like I’ve been slowly drowning in a cage for years and now there’s barely any air left. It feels like if I don’t get those words out soon then I’m not gonna make it. It’s so heavy.
And being openly bisexual, from what I’ve gathered, is not a fun rollercoaster to be on. You’ll be questioned and analyzed and doubted, you’ll have to constantly stand up for your own sexuality because it’s too fluid for pea-sized brains to understand, every romantic or sexual experience you have will be either a defeat or a success in the lgbtq+ community, you’ll be sexualized, you’ll be asked to cross your own boundaries because it’s “hot”, you’ll be seen as more promiscuous, and probably so many more things I can’t think of right now.
Part of the reason I also haven’t told anyone yet, is the simple reason that it’s easier to brush men off that you don’t want attention from, by saying that you’re a lesbian, so they’re wasting their time. It’s an easy out I’ve used many times. And I’ve felt so wrong about it every time because it’s simply not true. And what a fucked up world, that it’s easier to throw the lesbian card than it is to simply say no and have that be respected. But that’s an entirely different talk.
Am I really ready to face all of this, to have that conversation with friends and family, to admit that I’m not a lesbian and that I’m still figuring things out? To have to explain what to me is very personal, about how attraction works for me? To have to then also open up about the differences I feel with romantic and sexual attraction? To explain that I’m also not quite sure if maybe I’m somewhere on the demisexual spectrum as well? And is it too much to ask for them to understand that particular part as well? To have to lay bare every single moment of confusion and realization that has led me to have to speak up to be free? In a way it feels like I’m going to court and I might lose. Well I feel quite certain that I’ll lose and that for a very long time, I’ll be stuck in that courtroom until I’ve explained enough, to peoples satisfaction.
As if this isn’t about me wanting to be happy, it’s about making sure that the people around me are happy with who I am.
I just want to be me. I want to not have to be careful about what I say, I want to be able to gush as much about Henry Cavill as I can gush about Anya Chalotra, I want the freedom to fall in love with a person, without having to stress about whether or not it’s a woman. I want to be able to talk about attraction without hiding half of me, without suffocating myself in the process.
I want to be allowed to be 27 and still be figuring things out.
But still, I’m so afraid of what will happen. And it’s simply just not fucking fair that I have to be afraid. I have never even written about this before, too afraid to put actual words to how I’ve been feeling for so long, too afraid of making it real. But I’m taking a chance, and posting it here, hoping that maybe it will be a step on the way.
If anyone reads this, then please be kind ❤️
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Title of Your Sex Tape
Chapter Four: So Lovely, It Feels So Right
AO3 one two three four five six seven eight
All my work is 18+.
You’re just my type, I’m lying when I’m looking away. I’m staring up and down, I’m all around obsessed with your face. Oh, what a mess I’m in; you’re so masculine, sweet like cherry cola. Dripping confidence, lose my common sense; kiss you till I’m sober.- Charlotte Sanda, Dress
“Jeans?” Tim groaned into her mouth as she ground her core against him, his hands squeezing her ass roughly. “You’re wearing jeans when you’ve got an ass like this?”
“L— like what?” she stuttered out breathlessly.
“So big,” he growled. “So sexy. Wanna see you walk around in these, I’ll be able to see even more than when you wear skirts, fuck—“
He almost came that time.
Okay, so they’d become friends. That was a thing that had occurred. Lea was friends with a pornstar.
Weird.
But like, he was so nice. He was kind, courteous, funny, well-spoken and interesting to talk to— it was just good to have a friend like that.
And okay, yeah, maybe her overwhelming attraction to him and the way he kissed her, touched her—god, the way he touched her—had something to do with her incredibly non-platonic feelings towards him, but that didn’t really matter.
She was his coworker. His friend. Nothing more. They’d never be more than that. It was essential that they would never be more than that, on account of his job.
She wondered sometimes how he could kiss her that way, touch her that way, make her orgasm over and over and over again—and clearly enjoy it a great deal when he did—if he didn’t feel anything for her, but then she remembered that he literally did all of those things with numerous other women for a living.
She wasn’t special. Not in that regard, at least. He seemed to have some affection for her, however, which she had learned upon one of the many recent occasions during which she’d stayed over at his apartment.
It was a late fall evening, and there was a torrential amount of rain hitting the cold New York sidewalks.
“You can’t leave with it like this,” Tim insisted firmly. “Just hang out here till it clears up.” She was about to object, but then he said, “Please?” with that damn smile of his, and that was that.
“I guess I can do some homework,” she mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of her oversized sweater.
Tragically for Lea, her lack of adequate rest the night before resulted in her falling asleep in the armchair she’d been sitting in as he watched TV, her homework still in her lap.
She wasn’t aware of being picked up and carried, or having her shoes gently taken off before she was laid on a soft bed and tucked in.
She was, however, aware of waking up a couple hours later and seeing the rain hitting the floor-to-ceiling windows in Tim’s bedroom. He was passed out on one of the chaise lounges, a blanket thrown over him haphazardly, only partially concealing his bare chest. The position didn’t look very comfortable at all. Neither was her bra. Or her jeans, for that matter. But— god, she was in Tim’s bed!
She sat up, scratching her scalp and trying to process the situation, when Tim’s eyes blinked open. He sat up halfway, eyeing her sleepily. “You okay?” he asked, his voice scratchy.
“I’m in your bed,” Lea observed.
He blinked.
“Yes, it would appear that you are.”
“Why?” she pressed.
“You fell asleep,” Tim explained slowly. “Putting you in a bed was the logical thing to do. My room was closest, so…”
She stared at the way the moonlight filtering through the windows glinted off his pale skin. “I feel weird taking your bed, though. I can just go home—“
He cut her off with a soft snort. “No, absolutely not. Not this late at night. Just stay here. I don’t mind. I’d rather see you safe.”
“Okay. Um.” A gulp. “Do you have any clothes I could change into, maybe?”
“Oh, sure.”
With that, he stood with a groan, stretched, and walked around the bed to his walk-in closet.
She didn’t know how much money he made, exactly, but she had surmised but the way he lived that it was no small amount.
Tim returned with some pajamas a few seconds later and handed them to her. “I don’t know how they’ll feel, sorry. don’t usually wear… y’know. Stuff to bed.”
Lea stared up at him with wide eyes. “O— oh. Okay, uh… just give me a bit, then.”
He nodded in acknowledgement, and she stumbled into the bathroom, sliding the pocket door shut behind her. She stripped down to her undergarments and stared at herself in the mirror. Should she take her bra off? She wasn’t likely to get back to sleep if she didn’t, and he’d seen her bare boobs plenty of times. He probably wouldn’t care, right?
She decided on taking her bra off and then slipped the pants on.
…Except they wouldn’t fit over her thighs. Oh god, she was too big for the clothes he’d given her! How humiliating.
The sweatshirt he’d handed her fit her just fine, at least, and it was quite long on her. It was pretty baggy, too, so he may not even notice she wasn’t wearing a bra in the dark. She could just change as soon as she woke up, that was fine.
Lea gathered her discarded clothes—as well as the unused pajama pants—and exited the bathroom. He was getting re-situated on the chaise he’d been sleeping on, and she put her clothes on the bedside table, the pajama pants next to them.
He stared at her with wide, unblinking eyes—the neckline of the sweatshirt hanging just below her collarbones, the too-long sleeves only revealing the tips of her index and forefingers, her legs, bare from the upper thigh down—and gulped.
“The pants didn’t fit,” she said apologetically. “They’re too small for my legs.”
“Of course they are,” she thought he said, but couldn’t quite make out the mumbled words.
“Huh?”
“Nothing,” Tim assured her with a slight shake of his head. “As long as you’re comfortable, that’s the important part.”
She blushed and stared at her feet before shuffling back towards the bed and climbing in.
He smiled at her, and Lea frowned. He looked so uncomfortable in that position. “Don’t you want to, like. Sleep in the bed?”
He stared at her for a moment. “Well, yeah, of course I do, but I’m cuddly when I sleep next to another person, and I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything, so…”
“C— cuddly?” Lea stuttered anxiously. “Oh, uh. Okay. Well… I get hot when I sleep.”
His bedroom was dark, but she still caught his grin as he stood up and walked over towards the bed. “I get cold when I sleep. Maybe we’ll even each other out.”
“That’s fine,” Lea decided hastily. “You can… you can sleep here. I’d feel bad if I kicked you out of your own bed.”
“You’re sure?” he clarified.
Lea nodded, gnawing on her lip anxiously. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers over himself.
Staring at her for several seconds, he finally lifted an arm and said, “Well, c’mere.”
“Huh?”
“If I’m gonna end up cuddling you anyway, we might as well get comfortable.“
“Oh. Okay.”
Lea scooted closer to him, and as soon as she was within reach, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against his chest, burying his face in her hair.
“You’re so soft and warm,” he mumbled contentedly.
“You’re bony and cold,” she returned bluntly.
He was silent for a moment before chuckling and nuzzling her. “That’s why we even each other out, though.”
“Hm,” she hummed. “I suppose so.”
“Goodnight, Lea.”
She woke in his arms, the early afternoon sun illuminating the room.
“Hey,” Tim said softly upon seeing she was awake. “How’d you sleep?”
She was blushing due to the fact that she was nestled against his bare chest when she said, “Good.”
“Yeah? Me, too.” He smiled at her gently, reassuringly. “Holding you like this is really nice.”
“Y— yeah,” she agreed, her lips quirking up in a small smile.
Half an hour later, Lea found herself sitting next to him on the downstairs couch in front of the projector rather than the actual TV.
“Tim?” she asked nervously, wondering if what she wanted to ask was too personal.
“Yeah?” He adjusted the fuzzy blanket he had thrown over their laps to fight off the cold outside, nestling in closer to her.
“Do you like your job?”
He stared at her for a moment, considering. “Yeah, I suppose I do. Why do you ask? You’re not considering getting into it, are you?”
“No!” Lea insisted. “I just… I dunno. I was wondering if you liked it and why.”
He shrugged. “It’s easy, I guess.”
She blinked at him. “Easy?”
Tim nodded. “I pretty much do what I’d normally do during sex. It just so happens to be filmed. Not really that big of a deal, to be honest.”
“I’ve heard it’s, like. Choreographed,” she admitted. “Fake.”
He hummed. “It can be. For me personally, though, it’s not all that fake. There’s some acting, yeah, but for the most part, I just imagine I’m with somebody I find attractive.“
“You don’t, uh… you don’t find your costars attractive?”
“They’re fine, I guess,” Tim hedged. “I’ve recently discovered I prefer women who are somewhat curvier than the girls they pair me up with. And I prefer girls a bit closer to my age, too. I tend to have a two types of costars: extremely skinny girls who are often nearly as tall as I am, or MILFs, neither of which would be my preference.”
“Oh.” She blinked at him.
“Thankfully,” he continued with a grin, “I have a fluffer who is exactly my type.”
Lea blushed to the roots of her hair.
He laughed. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to embarrass you. You’re just so cute.”
“T— thanks,” she stuttered.
His grin widened. “Y’know, you should stay over more often.”
“Oh?”
“Mhm,” Tim hummed. “Never slept so well in my life.”
“Really?” she giggled.
“Oh, definitely.” He moved closer to her. “I’d love it if you could spend the weekend with me sometimes. I could just bring you here after work Friday, then back home once we’re out Monday. What do you think?”
Her smile widened at the prospect of getting to spend more time with him, of waking up in his arms again. It was weird; she should probably be anxious, but she wasn’t. Not with him. Not in the slightest.
“I’d like that.”
He grinned. “Well, it’s Saturday. Wanna go out to dinner or something?”
“Oh, uh… I don’t have anything to wear…”
Tim chuckled softly. “Lea, sweetheart,” he began, “Saks is fifteen minutes away.”
Her eyes widened. “I can’t afford a designer retailer!” she squeaked out.
“That’s fine,” he assured her with a smile. “Consider it a gift.”
“I cannot ask you to get me designer clothes, Tim.”
“You’re not,” he informed her bluntly. “I’ve decided. I’m taking you shopping, and then we’re going to dinner.”
“I dunno—“
He ignored her. “Ever had caviar?”
“This is way too much,” Lea insisted firmly, stating at her reflection in the mirror. He had picked out a white Zimmermann dress with lace detailing that reached mid-thigh, pink Versace heels that cost nearly as much as the dress, a fucking Judith Leiber purse that she absolutely refused to look at the price of, and pink jewelry. “The dress alone is, like, two thousand dollars, and I’m sure the purse is more, there’s no way I’m letting you get me this—“
“Don’t worry about the price, Lea,” he sighed in exasperation. “Just come out and show me.”
Huffing out a sigh of her own, she said, “Fine, but I look ridiculous.” With that, she pushed open the dressing room door.
Tim straightened up in his seat when he saw her.
“Well?” she asked, hands on her hips. “I look ridiculous, like I said.”
“You don’t look ridiculous,” he enunciated slowly. “You look…” He paused, raking a hand through his curls. “You look exquisite.”
Lea blinked. “Oh. Well. Thanks, I suppose.”
“I’m getting you that,” he decided, standing up abruptly and grabbing her hand. “I’m getting you more things later, too. Text me your measurements, would you?”
“W— what?!” she sputtered out in shock. “No way, Tim, this is too much as it is, it would cover my rent for the rest of the semester, this must be a crazy amount of your salary—“
He scoffed lightly, continuing to drag her towards the checkout counter. “One, I already told you not to worry about the cost, and two, just so you don’t worry, this will cost less than two days of work for me, and if I needed to, I could make it up in less than one day. It’s really not a big deal. I want to get you stuff. I want you to wear pretty things.”
“But why?” she pressed.
“Because you’re beautiful and sweet and I want you to wear whatever you want. You liked these things, so I want you to have them.”
“Thanks,” Lea mumbled awkwardly as they got into the checkout line.
He never let go of her hand.
“Yes, Tim,” Lea signed in exasperation. “I do have to take the make-up test on Friday.”
“But you can’t,” he whined over his sushi. They were at an obscenely nice Japanese restaurant, finishing up the tasting menu he’d insisted she try. “I have to work with Mackenzie on Friday, there’s no way in hell I can do that without you.”
Lea forced down her wince at the mention of his scenes.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine. You managed without me before.” A pause. “There are probably girls who could, y’know, fill in for me—“
“Not interested,” he cut in flatly. “I actually enjoy working with you.”
She blushed, picking up her chopsticks. “Well. You’ll have to figure something out.”
He hummed. “What time does your test get out?”
She blinked at him. “Uh. Around noonish. Why?”
“Can I maybe…” He paused for a moment. “Call you or something? FaceTime would be better, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—”
“I don’t see why not,” Lea mused. “Any particular reason?”
He stared at her for a few seconds. “So you can help me… y’know.” Her eyes widened in realization, and he hastily added, “Just by letting me hear your voice and— and see your face, is what I mean. Not that I’d say no to anything else you wanted, but—“
“Like…” She gulped. “Like pictures or, um… videos, or…?”
“Nothing you didn’t wanna do,” he assured her hurriedly.
“But it would help if I…”
“Well, yeah, of course it would help, and there is a clause in the fluffer contract about digital confidentiality, so you’d be safe if you wanted to do that, but—“
“If… if you wanted me to,” Lea began very quietly, “I would. If you asked.”
“They wouldn’t pay you for it since it would be private and they wouldn’t know,” he said apologetically, “but I could send you—“
She shook her head. “Nah. That’s what friends are for, right?”
He exhaled slowly, his breath a puff of air between them. “Yeah. Friends.”
Honestly, she had totally forgotten about their agreement by the time Friday rolled around.
Tim had bought her a great number of clothes and accessories—even a backpack for school!—, and a bunch of custom-sized lingerie. She had objected to all of this and been very firmly informed that the purchases were nonnegotiable (“Seeing you in clothes I bought you turns me on, Lea. It will help us both at work. Please?”). It was late November, so Lea had decided on a white cropped TOVE cardigan, which she paired with a brown pleated Burberry miniskirt and brown suede Saint Laurent booties. White thigh highs (well, technically they were over-the-knee socks, but her legs were shorter than most people’s, so they were thigh highs on her) were held up with a miraculous invention called sock tape, and they kept her legs warm.
She was shoving her pencil into her backpack after turning in her Energy & Climate Change test when she heard her phone buzz from its place on her desk. She zipped up her backpack, grabbed her phone, and left with a smile and a wave at her professor.
Once she was out of the office, she checked her phone. Her first thought was that it was 11:30, meaning she had finished significantly early, which she hoped wasn’t indicative of her doing poorly. Her second thought was more of an internal squeal, because Tim had texted her.
Timothée
How’d your test go ?
Lea strolled through the halls as she typed up her response, eager to get home to her apartment so she could text him uninterrupted.
Okay, I think? I’m honestly not sure tbh I finished it so early I’m kinda nervous but I felt mostly confident about it? Idk I studied really hard 😣
Her text didn’t ever say it had been delivered; it went straight to ‘Seen’.
Awww, I know you worked really hard. I’m sure you did great.
Gaaaaaah thanks lol
What’s up?
His response was immediate.
Working. Wishing you could be here to make things easier. Mackenzie is just… 😒
She’s what, what even is that face lmao
She’s unpleasant, honestly, and it’s such a huge turn off that it’s legit difficult to stay hard. It’s usually at least a bit of a struggle with any of the girls they pair me with, since they’re not really my type, but you’re always there to solve that problem for me, and she’s literally my least favorite person to do scenes with and she’s in every single one today, even the multis !
The multis. That meant he had done… stuff with more than one girl at a time. Jealousy twisted in her stomach, sharp and angry. She pushed it down. She was almost home, and then she could be comfy and warm.
That sucks, I’m sorry 😔
It’s cool, you said I could call you when you get home, so I’m excited for that 🥰
If you don’t mind terribly, I’d love a quick selfie just to like see what you have on ? Is it maybe something I got you ?
Lea’s heart stopped. Holy shit, that’s right! she recalled. I told him I’d… on FaceTime..! Oh my god, holy shit, holy fuck, oh god, he needs a response, uhhhhhhhhh fuckfuckfuckfuck—
She quickly took a selfie in the elevator mirror.
Tim was typing for a second, and then he stopped. He did this a couple of times before his response finally came through.
Holy fucking hell.
You’re wearing *that* ?
No, I’m wearing something else entirely and sent you a picture I took of my evil twin.
Well your evil twin is sexy as fuck, can you introduce me
She snorted inelegantly as the elevator dinged upon reaching her floor.
Omfg shut upppppppp don’t even give me that
Sure would like to give you something, jfc those stockings
I’m picturing what you’re wearing under that little skirt
She was, in fact, wearing a pale pink lacy bra and panties set from Lise Charmel.
Fuck I’m already getting excited, please tell me you’re almost home I need to hear your voice
She was turning her key in the door. Sam was at work, so she was alone.
I legit just got inside the door lol
Within seconds, she was getting an incoming FaceTime call request.
She tapped the answer button from her recently acquired place on the couch. He couldn’t see her since her phone was resting on the arm of the couch.
“Is that your ceiling fan?” came Tim’s voice.
“Yeah, sorry,” she said sheepishly in the direction of her phone as she pulled a bootie off her left foot. “I’m taking off my shoes. I meant it when I said I had just gotten home.”
She glanced at her phone screen. It was at an angle, but she could still make out his wild curls and bare chest.
“That’s fine, I’m actually on lunch right now, so…”
“On lunch and still working?” she laughed.
“I already ate!” Tim insisted defensively. “And anyway, it’s not just work, it’s Lea. I’ve been looking forward to this all morning.”
She tugged her other shoe off. “All morning, huh? Sure.”
“What, you don’t believe me?”
“Not a bit, no.”
“I’ve been pretending for hours to enjoy the company and bodies of various girls I am not remotely interested in physically or otherwise, and you’re surprised I’ve been excited to talk to a girl whose company I genuinely enjoy and whose body turns me on to no end?”
“Alright, alright,” she sighed, picking up her phone and strolling into her bedroom, locking the door behind her just in case.
“You’re moving too fast for me to get a half decent look at you,” he complained. “Let me see you.”
Rolling her eyes, Lea plopped down in her desk chair and held her phone up to her face with a grimace. “Hello.”
A grin spread across Tim’s face. “Hey.”
They stared at one another in silence for several seconds.
“So, um…” She gulped anxiously. “Are you still wanting me to, like…”
His eyes widened in surprise. “I mean, if you want, obviously I’d love to see, but I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”
“I don’t feel pressured,” she confessed awkwardly, a blush spreading across her cheeks and nose.
“God, you’re so fucking cute,” he muttered. Her lips quirked in a small smile, and then he said, “Look, if… if you’re cool with it, I can tell you what I’d like to see, and if you don’t want to do something, you can tell me. I promise I won’t be upset.”
She nodded. “I know you won’t be.”
She probably should’ve been more nervous than she actually was. But the idea of him being so attracted to her that he wanted to see her, even from afar, so he could get hard… it made her stomach feel fluttery and strange.
“So, um…” His eyes searched her face. “Could I see your outfit again?”
Lea nodded and stood up, lowering the desk as she did so to allow him to see more of her body.
“Fuck,” he murmured, his gaze raking over her form. “Turn around for me.” When she did, he hummed with interest. “Bend down, sweetheart. Nice and slow.” She did, and she felt cool air hitting her newly exposed skin just below her panties. “God, I gotta see what you’re wearing under that skirt,” he groaned. “Sway your ass for me, Lea. Yeah, like that. God, I bet it’ll bounce when you’re getting fucked nice and hard.”
She closed her eyes and imagined him taking her roughly from behind, growing wetter by the second at the thought. He’d fucking impale her, wouldn’t he? She wasn’t even sure she cared anymore. He’d stretch her out, and god, she wanted it.
“Stand back up for me.” She did so. “Good girl. Now turn around and unbutton the first button. She obeyed, revealing two inches of her pale pink bra. “Pink, huh?” he smirked. “Thought you said you couldn’t wear pink with your hair.”
“Not where anyone can see it,” she mumbled with embarrassment.
“I’m not just anyone, then?”
“No,” she breathed.
“Good girl. Another button, sweetheart.” She undid the second. The cardigan was halfway unbuttoned now. “I think I know which bra you’re wearing,” Tim mused. “Tell me, is it a set? Do the panties match?”
“Yes.”
“Unbutton it the rest of the way, angel,” he murmured. “Show me what those tits look like in that bra I got you.”
She did so, letting the garment drop to the floor.
“So sexy,” he smirked. “Turn back around and pull your skirt up for me a bit. Show me your ass. And when you do, sway it back and forth.” She obeyed, moving her hips in a slow circle and lifting the back of her skirt up. “God, it’s so big. Wish I could smack it a good few times, leave my handprints on you.��
“Is— is this right?” she stuttered out anxiously as she continued to move her hips.
“Oh yeah it is,” he praised. “Look at you, shaking your ass just for me. Take your bra off now, baby. Let me see those tits.”
She did so, turning around slowly.
“Mmm, those are big, too. Twist your nipples, Lea. Show me the way you like me to touch you.”
She did so, moaning softly and rubbing her thighs together.
“You know what you’re gonna do, pretty girl?” he breathed. When she shook her head rapidly, still twisting her nipples, he said, “You’re gonna touch yourself while I watch. And as I watch, you’re gonna see me stroking my cock so you know what you do to me.”
“I’m gonna what?” Lea squeaked out.
“You’re gonna touch yourself for me. Turn around and take your skirt off, nice and slow.” She but her lip anxiously but obeyed, undoing the belt and feeling the skirt loosen around her waist. She unzipped it then, sliding it over her hips slowly, shimmying a bit to help the fabric fall to the floor.
“God, Lea,” he groaned, “your ass is un-fucking-real.” Grinning a bit, she swayed her hips back and forth, the way she’d done earlier. He groaned again. “Teasing me, are you? Why don’t you take those panties off and show me your pussy, hm?”
Lea slid her panties down over her hips and stepped out of them before turning back around.
“Sit down in the chair,” Tim commanded darkly. She could see his arm moving the way it did when he jerked himself off, so she knew he was enjoying what she was doing. Obeying what he’d said, she settled in her desk chair. “Good girl. Such pretty tits. Spread those legs for me, baby. Let me see your little pussy.”
She bit her lip again and spread her legs slowly.
“Closer, sweetheart,” Tim grunted. “Show me.”
She picked up her phone with shaking hands and positioned it so he could see what he wanted.
“Are you as wet as you look?”
“Yes,” Lea admitted, her voice a bit breathless. She gulped before quietly asking, “Do… do you mind if I… could I maybe see…?”
He was a bit startled by this request, but laughed and reached out to reposition his phone. It looked like he was on the couch in his dressing room. The camera shook for a few moments before it stilled, and her core clenched when she saw him. He leaned back against the couch again, continuing to stroke himself.
Tim must’ve noticed her eyeing him, because he smirked and said, “Like what you see?” She flushed, declining to answer, and he chuckled. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed. Will you touch yourself for me, angel?”
She nodded, her face heating further. “If… if you want me to.”
“You know I do,” he murmured, biting his lower lip briefly. “I know you don’t know how. It’s okay. I’ll tell you what to do.”
“Okay,” Lea breathed.
“Pinch your nipple with one hand,” he started, “and run your fingertips over yourself with the other. Just like I do it.”
She did so, inhaling sharply when her fingers brushed her wet folds. “Like this?”
“Depends on if it feels good or not.”
“It— it does,” she stuttered out, trying to keep her hips still.
“Good,” he told her, swirling his thumb over the head of his cock. “Use your index finger to rub where your clit is. Don’t spread your pussy lips yet, just touch right over it.” She did so, whimpering slightly at the sensation. “That’s it, baby. Tease yourself like you’re teasing me by not being where I can touch you.”
“I wish you could touch me,” she gasped out. “You’re so much better at this than I am.”
“Yeah?” he grunted, stroking himself a bit faster. “I wish I could touch you, too. Think my favorite place in the world is between your legs, tasting you, hearing the way you moan my name. God, you’re so fuckin’ sexy. Play with your tits for me, baby.”
She did so, pinching her nipple and moaning softly. “Wanna kiss you, Tim,” she whined. “Want your hands on me, your mouth on me.”
“I know,” he growled. “Spread your pussy lips for me now, sweetheart. Show me that tight little hole.”
She obeyed, twisting her nipple harder.
“That’s it. Wanna bury my face between your legs, babydoll. Wanna make you scream for me. Rub your clit for me. You know how I do it, c’mon.”
She did so, moaning. “F— fuck, I want—“
“I know what you want,” Tim cut her off, his voice rough. “You clench around my fingers so tight, have I ever told you that? And you moan so pretty when I suck your swollen little clit.”
Lea rolled her hips against her hand, rubbing herself. “Oh, fuck, that feels good,” she whimpered. “Fuck, Timothée.”
“Yeah, baby? You wanna cum? You wanna cum while I watch?”
“Mhm,” she agreed, nodding her head vigorously. “Wish it was you touching me, want it so bad—“
After several minutes of this, Lea was a moaning, whimpering mess. She wasn’t able to make herself cum. She was so fucking close, but she couldn’t do it.
“I can’t,” she sobbed desperately. “I wanna cum so bad but I can’t!”
“Come to the studio, sweetheart,” he rasped. “I’ll pleasure your needy little pussy until you’re satisfied.”
“I can’t afford a rideshare.”
“Don’t worry, baby girl,” Tim growled. “I’ll order you one so you can come over here and ride my face like a good little slut.”
Okay so maybe I added an extra couple scenes. Sue me.
Tag list: @meetmyothersouls @ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @vampire-reanimator
To be added, please ask 💗
#my writing#fanfic#fanfiction#Timothée Chalamet#timothee Chalamet#timothée chalamet fanfiction#timothee chalamet fanfiction#Timothée fanfic#timothee fanfic#real person fic#real person fanfic#real person fanfiction#real person fiction#RPF#actor rpf#original character#original female character#oc#ofc#fem oc#fem! oc#fem!oc#Timothée chaalsmet smut#timothee chalamet smut#timothée chalamet x original character#timothee chalamet x oc#Timothee Chalamet ofc#pornstar!timothée
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Ep 4: Misty
Hello! This is about up to Episode 4 of Yellowjackets, and ONLY episode 4 of Yellowjackets. I have not seen beyond the fourth episode, at all, and know NOTHING about this show. Please do not spoil it for me. Things that are spoilery in nature, for me, include: saying things like “Just wait!!” confirming or denying anything I put forward, outside information about the cast interviews or creator statements, leading questions like “Do you think “blank moment” means anything?” etc. Remember that Y’ALL HAVE SEEN THE SHOW AND I HAVE NOT. This informs the way you talk about things relating to the show. Just be really careful is all I’m asking. Also: If there is LITERALLY any stance I could take on this show or character that would make you upset, please just fucking block the tag
If you WOULD like to discuss the show and my takes on it, the Discord is right here! I don’t go there, so it’s a great place to get every emotion out.
Please thank @sailorsunspot and @moonlight-frittata for backing this odd way of doing a liveblog, and remember my tip jar is always open
I feel like every time I watch this show and specifically every time I watch Misty, all I can say is “Holy shit, oh my god” and though it is not very interesting, it is always right. I laughed ALOUD at the “do people write notes…before they’re murdered, or is that more of a suicide thing?” I have never identified with Misty more even though I would not be surprised if in fact Misty did kill Travis. Why? I mean, at this point I’d be satisfied with “for the same fucking reason she pulled Nat’s starter” to bring her closer
Which is sort of a tangential segue into what I wanted to talk about with Misty and her being a CNA. I am so embarrassed I didn’t see this before, but it’s just a natural outgrowth of her desire for people to NEED her, to be placed in a position where she’s the one who can help. But she couldn’t hack it as a nurse, I guess, or the schooling, so here she is, and it’s not at all what she imagined, it’s bringing jello to old people.
This is another reason why it wouldn’t surprise me at all if Misty were at the heart of a lot of this. It’s getting the band back together! It’s reconsturcting a part of Misty’s life that, so far, we’re shown is some of the happiest she’s ever been, because she is useful, and in groups like this, she can’t be on the outs. She can be teased, but even when they tease her about wanting to give a sponge bath to Coach Ben, she is more a part of this group than she has been before. She is more a poart of SOMETHING.
So, even to the extreme negative, I absofuckinglutely think Misty is capable of this shit, and quite willing to engage in it--we see how she has access to people who can hack email, she can track people down, and she knows enough about being caught to know how NOT to be caught.
So where do we think her obsession with coach Ben is going? I mean, TIMES ARE TOUGH, we’re out here with exactly two guys and a lot of women who so far assume they dig on dudes and also are swelling with hormones. But I think Misty was latched onto him long before we ever boarded that plane. His leg has made him rely on her, and that reliance feels like love to her, I think, even if there is no way in heaven or hell Ben would be interested.
Fucking tailing Nat after Nat tells her the plans are none of her business, Jesus Christ, Misty, and it’s just another example of how Misty doesn’t understand why no one likes her and why she can’t have friends. Nat is no fucking peach, and I’m the first to say that, but Misty either has no actual idea about appropriate ways to act, or doesn’t care. And really, I think it’s a little of both, i think Misty has somehow talked herself into the idea that she alone, bullied and beleaguered, has the right to act however she wants because she’s HELPING. When she stalks Nat, she sees it as HELPING, she talks herself into the fact that she is looking out for her, she ‘has her back’ this isn’t creepy, it’s helpful. I think to a very large extent, she buys her own bullshit on this.
It’s pathetic as fuck, but Nat is the closest thing she has to a friend. It’s such a perfect moment when the gal that she takes out as a cover (brilliant, by the way, I laughed. Great touch.) tells her that she reminds her of her granddaughter and “no one really likes her either”
The show is working with Misty in such a way that it wants to show us how a person can be lonely and unliked and to what extent do we allow ourselves to feel like they have it coming?
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Your Eyes Outshine The Town...Chapter 19
Bucky Barnes x Black Female Reader
18+ ONLY
Summary: In the series finale, Bucky finds some solace in the arms of his sister...and starts to truly look forward to his future.
Warnings: EMOTIONS. Fade to black smut...but if this gets a lot of feedback maybe I will post a full smut for it.
AN: THANK YOU. This is the last chapter for this series 😭 I am so proud of this series and I really hope you all found joy in seeing Bucky get everything he ever deserved (even though I had to hurt him a bit along the way). Your feedback means everything to me, so please if you have read and enjoyed this series let me know with a comment, a reblog comment, an anon (or not) message! I'll take anything! Happy Holidays ❤
*Tumblr is not letting me add links to the prev or next chapters. Please see the masterlist pinned to my page for the rest of the story!*
You refilled your drink, glad that Bucky would be the one driving them tonight, and sat on a plum velvet couch between Deena and Betty. You all laughed as you watched the many great-grandchildren fight for a turn hanging from Bucky’s arm. They had all been obsessed with him ever since he stepped through the door. The various parents gave up trying to teach them manners several hours ago. But Bucky didn’t seem to be bothered by their questions in the slightest. So many ‘whys?’ Why do you have it? Why is it gold? Why is it cold? Why won’t my mom let you show us how strong it is?
You couldn’t hide your smile, Bucky was going to make a great father someday. A day you were starting to hope would come sooner rather than later. As if he could sense your thoughts, Bucky smirked at you and sauntered over to the couch. He picked you up easily and spun you around so he was sitting in your spot and you were in his lap.
“I thought you forgot about me over here,” you teased as you snuggled into the warmth of Bucky’s arms.
“Of course not.” Bucky squeezed your waist. “Had to come make sure Betty wasn’t sharing anymore embarrassing stories.”
You shook your head. “Just the one about you almost getting arrested for indecent exposure.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “That makes it sound much worse than it was!”
The women laughed, and you kissed Bucky’s reddening cheek. You stayed there in his lap, giggly and tipsy, until the shadows grew long and the room quiet.
**
Bucky squeezed your waist. The feeling of you, warm and soft, underneath his fingers reminded him to check the time. As much as he was dreading the drive home, he was looking forward to getting you in his bed.
“James, let your dame go and help me to my room. I need to lie down.”
Betty stood without waiting for Bucky to respond. He was quick to follow, offering her his elbow.
They were quiet as they made their way to her guest room, and Bucky helped her settle onto the bed.
“Can I get you anything?”
“Sit down,” Betty patted the edge of the bed.
Bucky did what she asked, still feeling–well, he didn’t know how to feel. Overwhelmed didn’t begin to cover it.
“You know I’m still older than you, right? I don’t remember you being this bossy.”
“James–”
Bucky looked up at her light blue eyes, and his joking demeanor dropped. “I missed you.”
Betty opened her arms and Bucky fell into them without question.
“I can’t believe you’ve been alive this whole time. I didn’t believe Connor when he told me. I didn’t think you’d actually show up. Thought he was crazy.”
Bucky chuckled, holding her tighter. “I’m so sorry,” a wave of tears strangled his voice.
“What in the world are you apologizing for?” Betty sounded exasperated, the same tone she used to use when Bucky didn’t play by her rules as a kid.
He sat up and was surprised to find she had been crying too. Her voice certainly didn’t sound like it.
“I–should have tried to find you.”
Betty waved his words away. “Don’t be stupid. Now stop crying and tell me about the girl downstairs that looks at you like you hung the fucking moon.”
“Language,” Bucky shook his head. It was so easy to slip into the big brother role again. “First, I brought you something.” Bucky gave her the blue velvet jewelry box and Betty gasped when she saw the diamond and emerald teddy bear pendant inside.
“James–how much did you spend on this? What am I going to do with this? Wear it on my robe at the nursing home?” Betty snapped the box closed and tried to hand it back to him.
Bucky laughed and refused it. “Well, if I knew you had so much money,” Bucky waved his hands around the elegant room. “I would have spent more. I made you a promise. Remember?”
Betty went quiet for a moment, opening the box again as more tears welled in her eyes. “That you’d bring me something pretty.”
Bucky nodded and squeezed her frail hand. He tried not to let that affect him, not now. He couldn’t think about how much time he may or may not have left with her when he just got her back.
Betty dried her eyes and motioned to the drawer next to her bed. “Give me the black box in there. I have something for you, too.”
Bucky did as she said and let out his own gasp when she opened it for him.
“It was mom’s, do you remember?”
Bucky nodded quietly and took the box with his shaking hand. Her wedding ring. A thin band with intricate lace-like metalwork. A European-cut sapphire sparkled in the middle, surrounded by little white diamonds.
“It was always meant for you and I was the only one crazy enough to save it this whole time. Becca was pissed when I refused to give it to Charles when he got married. It’s yours.”
“Betty–thank you.” Bucky didn’t know what else to say. He remembered rolling his eyes every time his mother expressed her excitement to see it on the hand of his wife someday. The fact that she never would was enough to make him crumble. With the ring tight in his grip, he laid on his sister’s lap and sobbed. He thought he had suffered the worst of his eternal pain, but this felt new. The wounds were so fresh he could feel every rip of his heart.
“I know it wasn’t, Buck��I know.”
Bucky hadn’t realized he had been talking—yelling, really, about how unfair his whole life had been. Betty held him as tight as she could, her hand rubbing circles on his back.
“S—sorry-sorry—I can’t—”
“Deep breaths, take your time.”
Bucky nodded, still trying to stop the sobs that were now making him hyperventilate. Betty was patient, humming to him until he fell quiet, silent tears still streaming down his face. He sat up and looked at the ring in his hand. The conflicting emotions were exhausting him… his mother wouldn’t be here to see it, but Betty would be. Sam would be, and you—he could really have a normal life after all.
“Is she worth it?”
“You have no idea.” Bucky sniffled, wiping his red eyes. When he looked up, he smiled at the way Betty’s face had lit up. She was happy for him, proud, and that’s all he had hoped for.
**
Bucky was not looking forward to the drive home. The day had been amazing but draining. As he said his last goodbyes and loaded the copious amounts of leftovers Deena insisted he take, Bucky kept his smile in place. But as soon as his car door shut, he let out a tired sigh.
“You better not fall asleep on me,” he told you as he put the car in reverse. “You made me a promise. It’s the only thing that’s gonna get me through this drive.”
“Actually,” you smiled mischievously, “I have a surprise.”
Bucky raised a brow as he exited the driveway. “Is that so?”
You nodded, quickly typing an address into the car’s gps. “Just follow the directions.”
You gave him no other information, just sat back in your seat with that teasing smile on your lips.
About an hour later, Bucky was pulling up in front of a cute white house in the suburbs.
“Whose house is this?” Bucky sat on the brakes in front of the house.
“Come on, pull into the driveway.” You nudged his arm, and Bucky did as you said.
Before he could ask any other questions, You were out of the car and waving for him to follow. Bucky shook his head and let out a little huff, but quickly turned the car off and joined your side.
“You gonna fill me in now?” Bucky asked nervously as you turned the handle on the front door.
You opened the door and turned to face him. Bucky took a quick glance around the inside of the house before sending you a questioning look.
“It’s ours for the night,” you beamed. “Go get the bags out of the car.”
Excitement thrummed in Bucky’s veins, and normally he would ask a hundred questions, but tonight, he didn’t care. He ran back to the car and found the bags you had snuck in at some point. You were giggling as he jogged back to the front door with a big smile on his face.
“Don’t move,” he huffed as he slipped past you and set the bags in the hall. He stepped back outside and lifted you into his arms, bridal style. “I don’t know how you did this, but I’m gonna ruin you, sweetheart.”
“It’s just an Airbnb,” you giggled, running your hands through his hair as he carried you through the house.
It was cute, but Bucky would have to appreciate that more in the morning—maybe while he was making you breakfast—fuck, why did that just make him hard?
He pushed the bedroom door open and laid you on the large bed, immediately joining you. “You couldn’t wait until we got home, could you?” His fingers worked frantically to pull the zipper on your skirt down.
You scoffed but helped him pull your skirt and tights down your legs. “I didn’t want you driving all the way back tonight; it’s been a long day.”
Bucky stopped and looked up at your face. A lump caught in his throat. He loved you so damn much he felt he might burst.
“What’s wrong? We don’t have to if you’re tired, baby.”
“Sweetheart, you have no idea how much I want to.” Bucky kissed the insides of your thighs. “But you’re about to.”
“Fuck,” you mumbled, still running your fingers through his hair.
“Now, lay back and let me relax.”
You did as he said and Bucky pushed you to the head of the bed so he could lie on his stomach between your thighs. With the first taste, so uniquely you, he felt his muscles relax and his stress dissipate.
**
Finally in bed, Bucky snuggled against your back, holding you as close as he could.
“Thank you for doing this with me,” he whispered as he placed a kiss behind her your. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“I’d do anything for you, Bucky.”
Bucky’s chest burned pleasantly. “I love you. Get some sleep.”
“Love you more,” you mumbled.
Bucky held you tight until your breathing evened out, and he knew you were asleep. The ring, now safely tucked away in his backpack, was all he could think about. It wasn’t even a question of if he would do it. It was a question of when and how. He never thought he’d even get the chance, maybe in another life, but here and now? Suddenly, he felt like things were moving far too quickly in this new life of his. He never let himself want anything, because he never thought he would have anything. And now so much had been dropped right in his lap in a matter of months. He sat up and took a few calming breaths before he opened the little box again. The ring looked even more beautiful in the moonlight. He could already imagine it on your finger, the sapphire and diamonds sparkling against your skin; the smile he’d put on your face when he asked. How would he do it? How did people propose these days? He’d have to ask Sam for help, of course. Maybe he could do it in Louisiana. Would that be too soon? He’d already been stupid enough to ask you to have a baby with him–and it was definitely too soon for that. But you weren’t running away. He glanced over his shoulder. You had turned on your side, facing him, probably seeking his warmth. His dog tags still hung around your neck and you looked almost innocent as you slept so deeply. He briefly considered never sleeping again if he got to look at you like this every night.
He snapped the box closed and hid it away. He’d ask Sam. Sam would know what to do.
Don’t forget to reblog! 😉
*Tumblr is not letting me add links to the prev or next chapters. Please see the masterlist pinned to my page for the rest of the story!*
Taglist: @delaber @mannien @raindrcpsangel @cjand10
#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes angst#Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes series#bucky barnes x black female reader#tfatws fic#bucky barnes christmas#dom!bucky
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"Instead of it being two disaster siblings latching onto each other out of genuine affection, codependency, obsession, narcisism and because it made narrative sense"
I can see how Jaime's affection for Cersei was genuine despite everything else that made it toxic, but did she ever really love him? To me it always felt like it was all about her ego
While Cersei's ego was part of it, I really don't believe it's fair to say she didn't truly love Jaime, and when you look through the scenes that highlight their relationship with an open mind, that becomes pretty easy to see.
In some of his POVs, Jaime remembers how he could never stand to be away from Cersei for too long, and they’d sleep with their arms entwined, and in a few chapters they recall dressing up as each other, Jaime daring Cersei to kiss Tyrion, They genuinely liked each other’s company and were absolutely inseparable their whole lives - to the point that they’re basically treated, both by the people around them and by Martin, as identical twins. Is it that hard to believe two people who are this close could fall in love?
And fall in love they did. Pretty damn fast, because Jaime says he can’t even remember when he and Cersei started to kiss, and they used to copy animals mating from a very young age - before Tyrion was even born - and it led to their mother trying to separate them. Jaime is Cersei’s first love, and said love last up until their adult lives.
While Jaime was never allowed to (or too interested in) be a proper father to his children, the fact still is that he IS the father of all of Cersei’s children, as she proudly said, that he was there by her side when she was giving birth - even going as far as threatening that guards that tried to keep him away from her - while her husband was out hunting. She’s even happy when she thinks Tommen is taking after him, and almost lets the secret out because she just had to gush about that.
Since I mentioned Robbert, let’s not forget that on top of being a shitty father (and having zero excuse for it) he was also physically abusive to Cersei, cheated on her too many times to count and even said Lyanna’s name on their wedding night, and Cersei was expected to just put up with it. Meanwhile, here’s Jaime again, being faithful to her his whole life (and even taking a celibacy vow that also included losing all of his claims), and Cersei straight up said that Robbert would have been fucked if Jaime knew about how he mistreated her. And while Jaime could be sexist every now and again, we cannot forget that he used to be totally okay dressing up as Cersei when they were little and just let her take his place as Tywin’s son, and even said the words “If I were a woman, I’d be Cersei” - can you seriously tell me that would not win him a ton of points with a woman that was constantly screwed over because of her gender?
And let’s not forget about the other men in her life - she clearly didn’t give a shit about any of her lovers, was insulted when Rhaegar rejected her but didn’t grieve for him when he died, and straight up tried to have Robbert killed. And while she was offended by the fact that Robbert didn’t give a shit about her, she was never jealous of his whores, or of his love for Lyanna - who was also one of the women Rhaegar chose over her. Meanwhile, she gets mad just remembering the time a former childhood friend asked “When am I going to marry Jaime?” and it’s even implied she was the first person Cersei killed, and she was just a young girl, and she CONSTANTLY says things like “We are one person in two bodies”, “I’m not whole without you”, “We came into this world together, he would not leave without me.”
There’s also things like her only showing her tears to him, canonically only enjoying sex with him, genuinely believing that either their love will make him able to save her in a trial by combat or that they’ll die together as she always believed it was supposed to happen, thinking about how he loved her hair and about him kissing her thighs when she’s being prepared for her walk of shame, and thinking about how he always said she was beautiful to try and be strong enough to face said walk. She even believes the obvious lie that Loras is sleeping with his sister and joined the kingsguard to be near her solely because that absurd scenario is her own story with Jaime. She is absolutely in love with that man.
Jaime is not just her twin and her lover, he is Cersei’s real husband in all but name and she absolutely thinks of him as her other half, her soulmate, the love of her life - she even has dreams of their relationship being public, and truly feels like there’s no point in living in a world where he doesn’t exist. Even George R.R. Martin said so, and confirmed she loved him, when he was talking about that insane scene of these two fucking next to their dead son (how romantic):
“In my mind, she’s clearly thinking that Jaime may be dead. The only person she ever truly loved besides her children may be lost to her forever and suddenly there he is before her—but shockingly maimed and transformed. There is a mutual passion for each other. And it’s like if you get a cable that your husband has been killed in war, and then suddenly there he is—he’s not killed in war.”
So yeah, their relationship might be super unhealthy and Cersei might have made a fuck ton of mistakes, but she DID love him.
#asks#jaime x cersei#cersei x jaime#lannistercest#Cersei Lannister#cersei meta#Cersei and Jaime#shipcest
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This has been floating in my mind for a while about Meredith. And it doesn’t excuse her horrific actions at all so this referring to before Meredith was a complete and utter cunt. Do you think she had Post-Partum Depression and Anxiety and that attributed to her lack of desire to bond with Noah?
Because Meredith has always struck me as more than a self-serving money obsessed woman. Like if she did suffer from PPD she’s the type of person that would not only refuse to ask for help but also refuse to consider she had PPD. She would view that as a weakness and think she was broken. And when you don’t try to get better the issues fester and develop.
At some point Meredith loved Bradley. And we know that Bradley loves with every atom of himself and sees the good in people (let’s not mention how that man can barely see the good in himself because that’s a whole other post). There was good in Meredith at some point, maybe not a lot but it was there. So I can’t but wonder if PPD contributed to how much of a terrible person Meredith ended of being.
Caitsy, I'm go happy you brought this up. I think I hinted at it, especially in the last chapter, but this is a definite possibility. I think part of the issue is that she struggled through the end of the pregnancy and the first few months after Noah was born while trying to figure out who to blame. (TW: mention abortion)
She'd obviously toyed with the idea of an abortion as evidenced by what she told Bradley when he visisted her about the bank funds. Meredith is a highly motivated individual. She is a hard worker and very smart and cunning. Some of those attributes make it more difficult to recognize that it may be time to ask for or seek out help. All she saw was the way Bradley bonded with baby Noah immediately, and all she felt was resentment. She didn't bond with her own son, and meanwhile Bradley made parenting look effortless on top of working full time. They had very different expectations and experiences, and not all of that was her fault.
I do think she would have been happier now if she made different decisions before. But I also think Meredith wanted to have all of the benefits of being witn Bradley and Noah without actually having to be with them. And her career took a massive hit as well, and we know how much her work meant to her. (DO NOT get me started on the fact that our society fucking hates successful women and does everything it can to prevent women from re-entering the workforce after having a family. None of that shit is as hard for men.)
She lost out on her career for a life that she wasn't sure she wanted from the beginning, so I think it's a definite possibility that Meredith suffered from anxiety and post partum depression. Remember, she would call every year around Noah's birthday for information about him. She loved Bradley once upon a time, too, or they wouldn't have been together for so long. And Bradley admitted he'd never really considered marrying her, but that doesn't mean there wasn't good in her. He wouldn't have loved her otherwise. And of course she could see the good in him, because she could even acknowldge that he is a good parent to Noah even though she tried to discredit him in court previously.
It can be hard to recognize when it's time to ask for help, so it's important to have a partner or friends or family around that you can talk to. When you keep fighting invasive thoughts and feelings every day, they start to feel like a normal part of your thinking. If something feels off, it's definitely work looking into and having a conversation about.
Wow, I'm really sorry this is so long.
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