#I don't want the responsibility of Management! I just want to be paid what I'm worth!

[boowritess]

so apparently it's really fucking hard to get into the SAS. and ontop of that I've been getting tiktoks of people going around an army base asking why they joined. most responses were to pay off student loans, bills, school, (someone said there's was 6 years of prison or school and *mental note for idea*), the recruiter lied or spoilt them, barracks bunny.

141 (poly?) x notsobaddasssoldier!reader

and now i can't stop thinking of soldier!reader. who really half-assed their way through everything - only doing the job for the money and to pay off student loans + they had nothing better to do.

who somehow ends up being adopted by Price (kinda like Gaz i guess ???) all because reader happened to be in the right place at the right time and saved Price's ass while managing to complete a mission the Task Force were doing.

and it's not that you saved his ass or completed the mission that makes Price go *this is mine* - it's the fact that afterwards all you can say is-

"this shit is so not worth paying off my student loans."

"oh fuck i forgot to cancel my subscription. fuckk- waste of fucking money"

- all the while a building is burning in front of you but yeah just not at all concerned about what had just happened. so price just *grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you up, claiming you as part of his task force now.*

(lol you probably can't do that irl but this is fiction sooo suck my ass.)

and laswell's just like no... they are very much still green john. way too green. no.

but it's too late. he's already introducing you to the task force. singing your praises and you're just like

"man he promised to pay off my student loans and give me food." basically how ur recruiter got ya ass.

enough said. you get the whole off the books speech, saving the world by doing things others wouldn't like. but u couldn't give a rats ass - you should but nah...

and like... you know you're the rookie... you're still green... but some of the shit 141 do you just...

"so you just gonna kidnap the wife AND the child...? right... kid, you wanna watch bluey? here..."

"and you do this often...? crazy."

but you don't exactly protest. how could you with how much you get paid. you kinda just side-eye and look away when it's geta a lil crazy. *bombastic side-eye*

and the other 141 guys - oh my days. become just as enormed as price and want to start really trying to amplify your skills. but every time, they start explaining how to do things - the best way to go about a situation or how to fight a certain way.

you pull this face. like your top lip pulls back, your eyebrows scrunch together, and there's a slight frown on your lips as they speak. like you look confused/disgusted. but you don't even realise cause-

"why're you pulling that face?" 141

"that's... that's just my focusing face..."

"oh..." 141 feels bad

then when they do take you in feild you're shaking your head no. like you haven't been around that long. what the fuck? now you're bout to infiltrate an enemy base!?!?!

"can i just wait in the car?"

"no." price

"i'm gonna vomit."

"aim at the enemy." ghost

people think that because you're suddenly in this badass task force that surely they're just using you for your assets.

they all think you're the 141 barracks bunny. and maybe you should be pissed or annoyed or grossed out. but all you can do is sigh and pause from the burger price got you, and let out a long exhale.

"fuck... maybe i can just do onlyfans or be a pornstar... shit maybe it's not too late..."

"military is bascially sex work - selling my body..."

"not that different from what i'm doing now. body being used, check. body sore in the strangest places, check."

your tone so empty, blank and nonchalant, but there's a serious look in your eyes that when you grab your phone out to maybe do a little research on how you could do that, your phone is snatched from your hand by one of the guys and they walk out the room without a second look back.

with an annoyed huff, you go back to eating your burger. but suddenly, you turn to the person who genuinely thought you were a barracks bunny.

"hey you think if i be a barracks bunny i get out of missions and shit?"

"...that's not how it works..." rando.

"fuck."

and maybe you try...

like you go to price's office and the guys are already in there, chatting about something that you should really pay attention too but you can't be assed. instead you unashamedly start to speak...

"if i suck ya'll dicks can i get out the mission?"

"no. you still have to join." gaz says amused

"even if you-" *que long sigh from price* "even if you suck our dicks."

"that's fucked up. i should've done porn."

and with the most hurt and broken-hearted look on your face, you leave the office, closing the door with a dramatic sigh. the guys just stare at the door in... confusion, amusement, and maybe arousal if ya'll dig that

idk man just gimmie more soldier!reader who just really ain't the fucked, there for money, lowkey hungry and doesn't know what the fuck is happening. kinda a pet or little sibling energy that the 141 love.

bonus*

"wait so they aren't sucking our dicks?" *soap says getting slapped in the back of the head by ghost

a/n: brain is rottinnggg. i should be doing so much other shit but... cod just consumes my brain 24/7

#my post #x reader #poly 141 #poly 141 x reader #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #kyle garrick x reader #simon riley x reader #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #platonic 141 #? #task force x reader #task force 141 #platonic!141 x reader #boowrites #cod mwii #mwii #cod #simon riley #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mwii imagines

[vanishingcherry]

MARRY ME?

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of jules bianchi and herve leclerc, google translated french, marriage and proposals (self explanatory)

summary: the 4 times charles has asked you to marry him and the one time you said yes

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

── 6 years old

Your parents had brought you to a wedding.

Your mother was the bride's closest friend, meaning you had the honour of being the flower girl. The ceremony itself was short and sweet, you watched the bride in awe, in love with her dress.

Not too long later, you were joined by a young boy your age. He was the ring bearer, also watching as the ceremony came to a close.

As the newly married couple walks out together, the boy turns to you.

"We should get married too" He suggests.

"What?" you ask, eyebrows furrowing in surprise. "I don't even know your name"

"C'est Charles. Et toi?" it's charles, and you?

"Y/N."

"Ok so now we can get married, yes? It will be fun."

"Je ne sais pas Charles, i dont know, I need to ask mummy first." You reply. On the outside you were trying to act as normal as possible, but on the inside, you kind of wanted it to happen.

To be fair, why wouldn't you want to wear a pretty dress and get some pretty flowers. You could picture it now, walking down the aisle with a bouquet in your hand and a sparkling dress with thousands of glittery sequins.

It was settled then. If she said yes, you would get married. It would be perfect. Grabbing Charles's hand, you scan the room for your mother, spotting her at the main table, awaiting the arrival of the bride and groom.

Running up to her, you tug at her dress with your hand, still holding Charles's in the other. She looks down.

"Mummy he asked me to marry him." You say in excitement, raising the hand that was entwined with Charles's.

Everyone at the table laughs at that, and you frown in response, not understanding what was wrong. Your mother, stifling a laugh herself, replies, "And what did you say?"

"That I had to ask you first. Is it okay if I marry him mummy?"

"Hmm are you sure you're not a little too young?"

"But i'm 6 years old. That is an entire hand plus 1". Adamant to get a pretty dress, you press on. Charles is still holding your hand, standing behind you patiently. He didn't want to say anything that would ruin his chances.

His mother had explained to him a few days ago why weddings happened. She had said that he would know when he met the person he wanted to marry, that she would be beautiful and kind and the best person in the world.

Pascale had explained to Charles that day that if he loved the girl, then everything would be alright, and they would be together forever. Upon meeting Y/N, he knew that she was his forever, it was just incredibly unfortunate that her mother seemed to think 6 was too young when it was obviously the perfect age.

You were still trying to convince your mother that it was perfect, everything was already set up and you were sure the bride wouldn't mind if you got married too.

"How about this", she suggests, "what if you and Charles get married when you are 25?"

"25!" You're shocked, 25 seemed so far away.

"I think 25 is the perfect age, yes? Both of you will be old enough then."

Knowing it was the best deal you would get, you agreed. Leading Charles away, you told him what your mother and you had compromised on. He seemed slightly disappointed at the news, but figured it would be okay, it was only 19 years after all.

"Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise."

Unbeknownst to you, your mothers were exchanging numbers at the table, knowing it would be impossible to keep you two apart after today.

── 17 years old

Charles had gotten into Formula 1.

Not too long after winning the F2 Championship, Charles had started getting calls. He was almost always on the phone with his manager, before finally announcing that he signed with Sauber. Years of hard work and months of negotiation had paid off.

That was an interesting day. Both your families were sitting together in the Leclerc's living room. You were sitting between Charles and Arthur, playing games on the TV. After boasting about winning agains the two of them in Mario Cart, you slumped against the sofa, not wanting to play anymore.

Before the two brothers started the new game, Charles got up and stood in the middle of the room, calling for everyone's attention.

"As you all know, we've been trying to figure out a deal for Formula 1", he started, referring to himself and his manager. "And I'm going to be joining Sauber next year!"

Shouts of excitement were all that could be heard for the next few minutes, everyone overjoyed for the young boy who had spent his entire life working towards this very goal.

You were the first to get up and hug him, squealing in delight at the news. Your arms were tightly wrapped around his neck, everyone else in the family forming a big group hug around the two of you.

That was months ago. Now, the two of you stood in his room, 2 weeks before the start of the new season. Charles had to go to the airport early next morning, joining the team for a few days in the simulator. However, as normal, he had left packing till the very last minute.

He'd called you over a few hours ago, freaking out over what to pack and what to leave behind. You went over, entering his room to see clothes scattered everywhere. Rolling your eyes, you start directing him, telling him to clean up while you sort through the piles to figure out what he needs.

Over an hour later, the two of you fall on the bed, tired after having run all over the house to find everything Charles needed. Everything was done, packed up in the suitcase that would accompany him around the world.

Too late to sleep, the two of you opted to stay in his room and talk, whiling away the few hours before he had to head to the airport.

"My god Y/N, marry me will you?"

Blushing in response, you turn to face him. "What?"

Oblivious as he was, Charles had absolutely no idea of your growing crush on him. It had been going on for years, but you never said anything to him, too scared to ruin your friendship.

You were already the subject of teasing from both Lorenzo and Arthur, who had been blackmailed into not telling Charles. Pascale and your own parents hadn't yet commented on the relationship, choosing to let young love play out.

Charles had no idea, none at all. Never had he made any move that suggested he knew or felt the same way. Hence, a proposal was definitely not what you expected when you walking into his house earlier in the day.

"I don't know what I would do without you Y/N. Honestly Fred would've killed me if I showed up with only half the things I needed."

You let out a small chuckle. "We are a bit too young to get married, no?"

He turns back to face the ceiling. "I guess so."

2 hours later, you found yourself waving him off as he entered the terminal, heading to the Sauber headquarters for a week before pre-season testing, your heart still beating faster any time you thought of the conversation that had taken place.

── 20 years old

Charles was drunk.

It was a night out in Monaco. Most of the drivers could be found in the club, packed together, dancing and drinking following the grand prix earlier in the day.

Charles hadn't finished in a good position, meaning he was more than eager to drink the night away. You, tired after a day at the paddock, decided to go home instead.

From the moment he got the first drink down, all he could talk about was you. He would go around to all the drivers, asking them if they had seen how pretty you looked earlier today, or telling them a story about something you did as a child.

"Have I told you about the time we were matching on halloween?"

"Y/N got in so much trouble in school that day."

"She was so excited when she got to meet her favourite singer today!"

He was smitten, all of them knew it, and so they sat there and listened with smirks on their faces. Finally, tired of all the whining, Pierre dropped off Charles at your apartment.

Waking up to a phone call and multiple knocks on your door, you walked into your living room, quickly opening the door to see a grinning Pierre at your door, Charles leaning against him.

"He was being annoying, you can keep him", the frenchman says, tilting his head in Charles direction. "He's drunk."

"I can see that", you mutter, still slightly annoyed at the fact that you were woken up in the middle of the night, but grateful that Charles hadn't ended up walking the streets of Monaco alone.

The drunk man stumbled into your arms, waiting patiently for you to finish thanking Pierre who swiftly headed back to the club.

So, at around 1 in the morning, you found yourself awake and half carrying Charles to the sofa. He fell against it, leaning back and closing his eyes as you went to get a glass of water.

You see his face light up when you enter the room. Leaving the glass on the table for him to drink, you go get some pillows from your room.

Coming back, you see that he had already finished his water, and was looking at you intently.

"Tu es si belle. Have I ever told you that?" you are so beautiful

"Oui, et tu est tout aussi beau" yes, and you are just as handsome

Your crush still existed, perhaps even more so than before. It was impossible to deny the fact that he had only grown more attractive in the last few years. However, knowing it was just his drunk self talking, you chose the ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

He doesn't reply, watching as you set everything up comfortably before lying back. Just as you're about to leave to switch off the light, he grabs your hand, forcing you to turn around.

"Marry me Y/N."

The surprise on your face was as clear as day, but Charles's drunk self seemed to see right past it. He kept his eyes on your own, waiting for a response.

"How about you take me out on a date first?" you laugh in response, fluffing up the pillow and placing a blanket on his body. He falls asleep within seconds, and you sport a small smile as you watched him, before making your way to the comfort of your own bed.

The next day, you woke up to breakfast in bed. A stack of pancakes accompanied by grinning Charles and a note that read "Will you go out with me?"

Regardless to say, the date went amazing. It was simple, just the two of you hanging out in your favourite places in Monaco, drinking coffee and making jokes.

It was only a month later when Charles officially asked you to be his girlfriend during a movie night at home, to which you promptly replied a yes. And just another month after that when you heard him whisper a small "je t'aime" as you drifted off to sleep in a hotel room.

── 24 years old

Ferrari had finally made a good car.

It was the final race of the season and the battle raged on between Charles and Max. Both had an equal chance of winning the championship, Charles only 2 points behind Max in the leaderboard. Whoever won this race would win it all.

You were sitting in the garage, gaze not shifting from the screen in front of you. You watched the two drivers continuously switch positions, going from P1 to P2 and vice versa.

Max having lead for the last few laps, you stood up in joy when Charles overtook him at the end of the penultimate lap. Just 1 more lap. Charles was one lap away from being the World Champion.

You watched as Max's rear tire locked up in the second sector, increasing the gap to 2 seconds. The joy in your heart was bubbling up as Charles got closer and closer to the finish line. Joining the rest of the engineers, you leaned over the railings, watching as he crossed the finish line.

Immediately you ran to the pit wall, grabbing a pair of headphones.

"Amour you did it! World Champion!" You couldn't contain your delight, tears of joy falling as you go around hugging everyone in sight.

"Oh my god. We did it! We did it!" You heard his voice come through. "Thank you to everyone oh my god. I cannot believe it. I love you." Your grin becomes even wider at the last line directed towards you.

"Je t'aime Charles. Oh my god you did it."

Shouts of "yes" and "oh my god" were all that could be heard for the next few seconds. You stood there and listened, knowing just how much Charles deserved it. He had worked every day, either by himself in the gym or with the engineers, figuring out strategies for the next race. He deserved this more than anyone else.

Leaving the headphones near one of the many computers, you run to where the rest of the engineers were gathering. The red car parks at P1, and you look on in unfiltered glee as Charles jumps out, raising his hands in celebration.

He runs over to you, grabbing your face before pulling you in for a kiss. Knowing that there were people watching you, he keeps its short, but its passionate nonetheless.

When he pulls away, you see the shine in his eyes, helmet still on as everyone working at Ferrari rushes over to pat him on the back or give a hug.

Arthur, Lorenzo and his mother are there as well. The former having come P3 in his race earlier in the day, and the latter two having made the trip from Monaco to watch the climatic ending to the season.

You stand to the side with them when Charles heads to the cooldown room, talking to Pascale.

"Herve serait fiere, si fiere" herve would be proud, so proud.

"Et Jules aussi", you add. and jules too "He won it for them."

She smiled. Not too long after, an engineer walked over to you, directing you to the stage. He claimed that Charles wanted you to watch from closer.

5 minutes later, standing off to the side, you look on as he is handed the championship trophy. Cheering alongside everyone else, the delight is evident on your face as he raises it above his head.

The celebrations start. You watch as the engineers filter in, each holding their own bottle of champagne. Catching your eyes, Charles walks over, pulls you up on the podium with him, immediately drenching you in champagne. The celebrations continue as more and more people join.

He hugs you tight, blocking your line of sight. The noise is overwhelming, but in that moment, it's just the two of you. You hug him back, whispering in his ear, unaware of everyone else leaving the podium. I love you, I am so proud of you.

When it's just the two of you left, Charles pulls back. You look around in surprise, turning back to Charles to tell him to get off the podium, gasping when you realise what he was doing.

He was down on one knee, looking at you as though you had hung the stars in the sky. In his hand was a small box that held the most beautiful ring you had ever seen. The diamond in the center shone under the bright lights, but nothing could distract you from Charles.

"Veux-tu m'epouser, mon amour?" will you marry me, my love

You nod almost immediately, tears still falling as your hands cover your mouth in shock. Yes, yes, yes. You get down to Charles's level, hugging him tighter than ever before. You hear him chuckle in your ear, kissing your neck as he too feels a few tears fall out.

You aren't sure how long the two of you stay that way, finding comfort in each others embrace, but you are startled when you hear the roar of the crowd. Leaning back, you can't help but laugh when you see all the drivers and thousands of fans clapping and celebrating your engagement.

Arthur is standing next to Pierre, the both of them hooting and cheering, knowing just how much behind-the-scenes encouragement it took for Charles to agree to proposing.

Looking back at Charles, you find him already looking at you. Giving him a kiss, you let him put the ring on your finger, cheek's hurting from how much you had smiled in the last hour.

It slips on with ease, and the diamonds seem to sparkle even more under the bright lights.

"Only took 4 times for you to say yes, eh?"

#charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc instagram edit #formula one #ferrari #f2 #f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc series #charles lecrelc #scuderia ferrari #carlos sainz #max verstappen #pierre gasly #arthur leclerc #🍒 writes #vanishingcherry

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Okay, so I’m weirdly into the idea of being someone’s estranged wife???

Imagine being Patrick’s estranged wife?? Like maybe he married you bc he couldn’t have Tashi and then just…never signed the divorce papers? And now he’s knocking on your door bc there’s a challenger he’s gonna play in buttttt his bank account’s a little low so could he pretty please crash with you? He’ll sleep on his couch and be on his best behavior, he swears

Queue him crawling into bed with you at 2 am bc it’s cold in the living room and you’re soft and pretty and whoops, he’s hard

Ooo love this

Warnings: Fingering, Patrick Being Patrick, bitter and estranged ex-wife Reader

"You have any chicken nuggets?"

"What are you, five?"

"Adults can enjoy chicken nuggets."

They certainly could, but you didn't grace that reply with a response, just watched with tepid interest as he rifled through the contents of your fridge.

A single phrase kept resounding in your mind:

I should've left him on the doorstep.

And maybe you should have. It wouldn't be the first time that you'd given Patrick the cold shoulder, and it wouldn't be the first time that he just parked in your driveway and slept in his car. But you just couldn't stand the sight of him out in the cold, pouting and gnawing on his lower lip in the fish-eye lens of your peephole.

"Why don't we order a pizza?" He tacked on.

We. It was always 'we' with him, but never in the action, or the cost—that was a 'you' action, not a 'we' more often than not.

"Who's paying for it?" You asked. Patrick turned to you with a dopey, guilty little smile affixed to his lips as he cocked his hip.

"Well until I sign the papers, the two shall be as one, right?"

"Yeah—Why haven't you signed, by the way?"

"Your guy's never been able to serve 'em." He turned back to the fridge, ducking his head as he looked around. "You got any beer?"

You rolled your eyes. "Third shelf, at the back."

"Bingo. Want one?"

"Not right now. But thanks for offering me something that I bought and paid for. Really appreciate it."

Patrick huffed a soft laugh as he turned toward you again, opening the beer against the edge of the counter.

"Mine mine mine," He teased. "What is it with you and what's yours, huh?"

"Just stating facts, Zweig."

"So self-righteous, Mrs. Zweig." He used your married name with a vinegary smile before taking a deep swig from his bottle, pointedly ignoring the way that you bristled. "So. Pizza?"

--

Just the couch.

Patrick had pleaded it between bites of pizza, scrubbing the back of his hand across his mouth to clear the crumbs and oil left behind. He'd framed it as a reasonable enough request, like it was the easiest thing in the world to let your estranged husband back into your home.

You won't even know I'm there.

As if you hadn't been fighting to find a harmony within yourself for the last year, trying to serve him papers for the last six months, to get your divorce to take, to rid yourself of his last name.

Watching him sort through the garbage bags of clothing that you'd packed up for him to come and take between tours had been a little pitiful, but he'd unearthed what he'd needed to sleep in.

"Still have a toothbrush for me?" He asked.

"No."

"Face wash?"

"Don't you just use soap?"

"Yeah, but you put me on that, uh—That regimen, that routine."

"You never followed it."

"So you threw the stuff out?"

"I wasn't using it, so. Yeah."

"Huh." Patrick straightened, PJs in hand. You couldn't help but watch him strip off as he passed you, eyeing the ripple of his back muscles as he tossed his shirt in the direction of his bag.

"I'm showering," He called over his shoulder, "If you'd like to join me."

"I'd rather chew glass, but thanks."

--

He was sleeping. He had to be, right? It didn't matter if he was or wasn't. It didn't matter that Patrick Zweig was asleep on your couch, just a floor away. It didn't matter that you were worked up, at the midpoint between pissed off and turned on.

How did he always manage to do that to you?

You should've been able to clock early on that it was trouble. None of your friends or family thought it would work out, and you'd been chagrined when they'd been right. For as much as you had once loved him, for as certain as you and Patrick had been sure you would fit, that you would fix whatever needed fixing, no matter what fate had in store for you, you just...Couldn't.

It didn't help that he had been chasing glory on the court, or that you had spent your relationship trying to fill the shoes of a woman that you could never be. It didn't help that the two of you were just fundamentally different, in ways that you either of you were unwilling to compromise. When he'd left, it hadn't been a surprise, but it had been so goddamn hard to serve him papers. But you'd had such trouble trying to pin him down during your relationship, why should the way you broke be any different?

But when you'd been in bed together—Hell, you'd been even more certain that it could work. You and Patrick just fit. Things had been so right with so little conversation or hesitation. Your needs had fueled one another's, and you'd been able to lose yourself in him. It should have been enough.

But it wasn't then, and it wasn't now.

He was asleep. He had a match the next morning, and he needed his rest. You could do the same—You should do the same. You needed to be staring at the ceiling right now like you need a goddamn hole in the head. You drew in a deep breath, closing your eyes and doing your best to focus on your breathing. In for five... Hold...Out...For...Five...In for...One...Two...Three...Four...

Your eyes opened, your breath catching as you heard the door open. You held completely still as you heard the door close again, chased by the soft pad of feet along your floor before the mattress dipped beside you. The covers shifted, lifting and falling as he laid down.

"Are you asleep?" He murmured. It was another moment before his palm skimmed across your belly, his rough cheek nuzzling against the curve of your shoulder. Your breath left you in a soft sigh, your muscles untensing bit by bit.

"I know you haven't been here in a while," You muttered, "But this is not the couch."

He huffed a soft laugh. "I know," He snuggled closer, and it was just a moment before you felt the press of his cock against your hip. You drew in a shaky breath, hands lowering to his arm.

"Patrick," You mumbled. "You should be asleep."

"I can't sleep." His teeth scraped along your jaw as his fingers snaked under the hem of your nightshirt.

"Indigestion?" You squeaked. "Shouldn't've had that third slice of pizza. I told you not to."

Your eyes squeezed shut as he rolled his hips against you.

"This feel like pizza to you?"

"Well—"

"Baby," He pleaded. "You gonna tell me you didn't miss me?"

It took you a moment, and you couldn't help your slight squirming.

"Not even a little."

He laughed again, and you knew that you hadn't been able to sneak a thing by him.

"You don't have to lie. I saw you watching me." He tipped his chin up, sucking a tender kiss to your neck. And you had, but—

"I wasn't."

Patrick tutted disapprovingly. You shuddered, arching up into his touch as his thumb skimmed across your hardening nipple.

"You're a shitty liar, you know that?"

"You're an asshole," You hissed as Patrick lifted his head.

"You like it."

You couldn't get a word out to argue as Patrick's tongue swept between your lips. You whimpered in spite of yourself, sinking back against your pillows and raising your hand to fist in his hair. He was over you in a moment, body shoving your thighs wide as his hands rucked up the bottom of your sleep shirt. You drew in a sharp breath as his head dipped to catch one of your nipples between his lips. You tightened your grip on his, shivering as he teased it with his tongue.

Patrick's hips ground against yours, rolling against where you're growing slick in your sleep shorts.

"How long's it been?" He murmured, "Huh? Since me?"

And it was too embarrassing to say—too embarrassing to admit that you hadn't slept with anyone since Patrick left.

"Shut up," You hissed, "Just—Please, shut up."

His hand snuck beneath the hem of your shorts, swiping gently across your tender clit, and he grinned as your hips hitched up into his deft touch.

"S'okay," He cooed as he eased a couple of fingers into your tight, aching cunt. "I missed you, too."

--

"You gonna come watch me play?"

As with the rest of the last day or so, your answer should be no. You didn't turn to look at Patrick as you rummaged through your dresser for something to wear.

"I've seen you play, Patrick."

"Not lately." He tried again: "It's a challenger."

You hummed, giving a noncommittal shrug as you pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a shirt.

"...Well can I stay here tonight?"

"If you win, sure."

"How will you know I win if you don't come see me?"

You rolled your eyes, hip-checking your drawer shut before pulling up your pants and tugging in your top.

"Fine. Just tonight. You'll have to find somewhere tomorrow night."

"I'll have the prize money by then, I'll crash at a motel."

"Oh, a motel. Hey big spender," You drawled, heading for your door.

"Hey."

"What?"

"You have the papers here?"

It stopped you dead in your tracks, your stomach churning with unease as you looked at him again.

"...What?"

"The divorce papers," He clarified. "I can sign 'em while I'm here."

It would be so easy. It would be so easy to go down to your office and draw the file out of your desk drawer, to plop it down in front of Patrick with your favorite black ballpoint pen, to flip between arrow tabs and instruct, "Sign here, here, here, here, here, and here."

But you found yourself shaking your head.

"I don't have a copy," You fibbed. It took Patrick a moment before he nodded a little.

"Can you get them?"

Hell, were you that out of practice? One night back in bed with you and he was ready to call it? But you were certain that wasn't it—That Patrick was, for once in his goddamn life, trying to make it easy on you after so much hell.

"...Maybe, I don't know," You shrugged. "It's the weekend."

"Okay."

"Coffee?"

"Yeah—Hey."

"What?"

You watched as Patrick pulled the covers away, unashamed of his nakedness as he strode toward you. He grasped your chin, tipping your head for a soft kiss. It took everything in you not to melt into him as he skimmed his hand over your hip, drawing back just enough to give you a sleepy, hazy smile.

"Good morning."

You couldn't help your own, indignant smile.

"Sure, Patrick." You turned away, determined to push on with your day, your life like he wasn't there—like he wouldn't be hanging over you as you made breakfast, or dominating the court as he played, or in your bed again in just a few hours. "Good morning."

#Patrick Zweig x Reader #Patrick Zweig x You #Patrick Zweig/Reader #Patrick Zweig/You #Patrick Zweig fic #Patrick Zweig imagine

[ms-demeanor]

*screaming*

*continued screaming*

Okay. So. My introductory Visual C# class.

The professor for that class was Alice. Alice was the person who spoke in the introductory video and the person who we were supposed to email if we had any issues.

But all of the assignments, lectures, and quizzes were written and delivered by Bob. On the youtube channel "Bob's programming academy." The quizzes included Bob's name, like "if you do X will it return the string ProfessorBob, Professor, Bob, or Professor.Bob?"

This class was really frustrating for me because it was structured in such a way that you could easily pass the class with zero knowledge of the subject - it was totally based on quizzes that you could take an unlimited number of times and we *had* weekly programming assignments but they weren't graded so there was no incentive to do them (and look, if I wanted to teach myself programming with no incentives I could fail for several years to do that on my own, I don't need to pay fifty bucks a unit for that; the reason I am in a *class* and am not self-taught is because I need external motivation. That's why I sought out a class).

Also when there *was* a problem with an instruction that was unclear in one of the videos for the assignments, or if I thought I'd done something correctly that was very much incorrect, it wasn't Alice who had created the instructions, it was Bob - in 2017 no less - and I didn't really feel like I could ask Alice for help with an ungraded assignment that she hadn't written.

So. Now. My Python class.

Today is the first day of class. Professor is Charles.

I go to the mandatory attendance quiz and it is word-for-word the same mandatory attendance quiz as the C# class, down to the final question "what is your personal email address so I can keep in contact with you after the semester?"

I look at the syllabus.

Class grade is based on quizzes. We have assignments but none of them are graded. There's no textbook, just a series of videos from Professor Bob's Programming Academy.

So I'd been toying with staying at this school and trying to take more CS classes instead of going to another school, just to try to keep my records easier to manage, but since it seems like that *ENTIRE DEPARTMENT* is five Professor Bobs in a trenchcoat, I will probably be going somewhere else (and once again trying to force myself to do projects that I already know are *good for me to do* but *useless for the class and a massive time suck*)

I should drop this class. I should drop this class and apply for the other school so that I can start taking classes there in the spring because if I take this class and then go into the object oriented programming class in the spring and it's another professor bob sock puppet and I end up taking twelve units of programming classes where all I learn is how to google answers in a short time frame (something I already know how to do thanks) I am going to fucking lose it.

Also, again: I have a Bachelor's Degree. I spent five years at a community college when I was getting that degree. I took probably a dozen online classes starting in 2005 and going until 2011 in the process of getting that degree.

THIS bullshit, this "I'm your professor but actually I'm not and all the materials were created by someone else in the department or came directly from the textbook publisher and there is no writing and there are no assignments everything is multiple choice quizzes that are automatically graded" is *dogshit.*

This is NOT how online classes worked back in my day, not even online math classes, and as much as I know adjuncts are getting fucked over by academia in general, this isn't something that these professors should be getting paid as much as they are to do. Alice checked whether or not students turned in a hello world assignment and gave a pass/fail grades for three discussion boards that were responses to youtube videos. Nothing else in the class required her input. If this is the level of instruction that students are getting then the class is already automated and the students shouldn't have to pay for it.

This is crap. This is an incredible level of crap.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you're used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what's on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Right, this was supposed to be a drabble series but it morphed and not I'm fucked.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It's the most special time of year! Mistletoe, jingle bells, and holiday cheer! Oh, and hot chocolate. Lots of that.

You hide your thermos under the desk and grab the crystal bottle again, giving a test spritz to the air. Your job isn't very complicated. All you do is say hi and chat about the perfume. Your manager says the job is selling but you don't like to see it that way.

You smile at a family of five as they veer towards the toy section. You don't think the six year old would be into an eau de parfum. It's understandable.

While you spend your hours wandering around expensive makeups and scents, you're filled with a certain hint of longing. For what you're paid to push the merchandise, you can't afford any of it yourself. Well, you've never been very materialistic.

You spin around and see a gentlemen approaching, though he doesn't seem to see you. He looks past you, almost through you. You stop in place and put on your best smile, fixing the red band around your head.

"Hello, sir, would you like to try some Gucci?" You offer and spray the nozzle at him.

He skids to a stop and recoils as if he's been slapped. He holds out his arm as he looks down at his coat, little droplets seeping into the fabric. He takes a whiff, his short mustache wiggling under his nose, and he scoffs as he tries to shake off the cologne.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He snips.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You just go around spray people with that horseshit?"

"Well, sir, with respect, I don't like that sort of language.

"And I don't like being drenched in dog piss," he blusters, "point me to the goddamn trimmers."

"Um, what kind? Nail trimmers? Pet trimmers? Garden trimmers?"

"What the fuck do you think?" He points to his own face.

You hold your smile. There's always that one customer who's having a bad day. Whatever's got him so upset must be worse than dealing with him.

"Personal care," you point to the far corner, "right over there, sir."

"Ugh," he stomps and storms off.

"I hope your day gets better," you call after him, "oh, did you want a store coupon--"

He ignores you as he waves you off over his shoulder. You watch him turn towards men's grooming and you shrug, rocking slightly. You try not to let them get to you. As jolly as you find this time of year, a lot of people don't feel the same.

You shrug off the encounter. You still have a few hours ahead of you and it's starting to bustle with customers. You help a couple find the home wares while keeping the boundary of cosmetics firm. Lucille, the manager, doesn't like you leaving your zone.

You approach a woman looking at the Prada selection and get her checked out with a new fragrance, specially gift-wrapped by yours truly. She leaves happy, a small victory for the day. You celebrate but not too much.

You come around the counter just as you see that man strutting back up. He has an item in his hand and ignores you as he passes. Still you smile at him.

"Annoying," he mutters under his breath.

"Need help finding anything else, sir?" You ask his heels.

He stops and you see the way his spine stiffens. Oh no, you shouldn't have said anything. He slowly turns to face you.

"You can shut up," he marches up to you and grabs the bottle from your hands, "shut." He sprays you in the face, "up." He squirts you several more times before shoving the vial against your chest, "stupid little girl."

You take the bottle, blinking as you use your cuff to wipe the perfume away from your eyes. He continues on his path as you stand dumbfounded, drenched in Gucci cologne. It's hard to breathe through the heavy scent and you can't help but cough.

What a jerk. Just because he's having a bad day, doesn't mean everyone needs to.

Slowly you grow accustomed to the smell of yourself. It’s not too unusual. You go nose blind about halfway through your shift once you spray a few too many samples. You keep your distance from customers, offering them a spritz but trying not to crowd them with the vapors of cologne rippling off of you.

You yawn as the afterwork rush floods in and you make another round, smiling at Sofia as she peeks over at you. She’s with another customer at the counter, ringing them up as she gabs. You spin at the display at the center of the crossway that runs through the beauty department and stagger back before another can run you over.

You apologise to the tall man as he skids to a stop on his soles. You can tell he’s in a hurry by the way he grips his briefcase and squares his jaw. He wears a long dark wool coat as flecks of snow melt into his thick beard.

“Oh, sorry, I er, wasn’t–” He clears his throat, collecting himself, “I… didn’t see you.”

“That’s okay, sir,” you assure him, “would you like to try the new scent?”

You hold up the onyx bottle but don’t spray him. You don’t need another dousing. He looks at the silver letters on the side then at you. The furrow in his brow lightens as his blue eyes swim.

“No thanks, but er, you think you could help me find something?”

“Of course,” you chime and lower the bottle, “are you looking for a gift for someone special?”

He nods, “my mother-in-law is on her way into town, I need a present. Maybe perfume?”

His tone is tinted with frustration as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He lets out a long sigh. He’s one of those shoppers; the last minute scrambler. You grasp the vial in one hand and tug at the front of your thick red sweater, you’re starting to get a bit toasty in the crowded store.

“How old is she?” You ask.

“Um,” he clamps his lips together and thinks, “hmmm, probably seventy-something? I’m sorry, I guess I should know that.”

“That’s okay, I… I would suggest some Liz Taylor,” you turn on your heel and wave him after you as you head off, “it’s a classic. Not so much a me scent but the older crowd likes it. Oh, and it’s on special so your wallet won’t hate it, either.”

You stop by the Diamonds display as you face him again. He follows at a pace and stops before the shelf, perusing the gold caps and crystal caps. He considers the rack in deep thought.

“Here,” you set down your bottle on a nearby table of seasonal decorations and take one from the display. You slip out a strip of cardstock and spray it with the sampler, “this one is gardenia. That was her favourite scent. It’s probably the least pungent.”

You offer him the sample and he eyes it. He slowly bends and sniffs the end of the paper. He wiggles his nose. It makes you sneeze too. As much as you’re a fan of the classic actress, her scents are dated.

“Smells like her,” he grumbles under his breath, “sure, I’ll take that.”

“Great,” you declare and trade the sampler for a boxed bottle, then retrieve your disposed Gucci vial, “would you like me to check you out, sir?”

“Is it faster?” 

“I can be fast,” you promise him, “this way.”

You go around the sparkling counters and he meets you across the till. You type in your log in, taking several tries to get your passcode right. The man places his briefcase on the counter,a hand resting on the edge.

“You know a lot about this stuff?” He prompts.

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile as you scan the perfume and tap the special offer on the screen, “kinda part of the job.”

“Hmm” he hums again, in that thoughtful manner. You look at him but he’s not looking at your face, “that’s a nice sweater.”

You look down at the red wool speckled with pearls. It’s new and one of your favourites already. You can’t help a little wiggle of your shoulders, “thanks!”

“Very… cheerful,” he muses as he takes out his wallet, “wish I could say the same of what awaits me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, it’s that time of year, I guess,” you push the debit machine towards him and he taps his credit card, “I’m sure your mother-in-law will love the perfume.” The transaction approves and the receipt prompts, “would you like an email?”

“Nah, that’s fine,” he tucks his credit card away.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” You offer, “it’s free?”

He hovers his hand over his briefcase as he considers it. His eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples, “alright, yeah, that’s… that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No problem,” you beam back at him, “let me just get some tissue paper…”

You murmur to yourself as you grab some gold tissue paper and a white gift bag with a Christmas tree embossed into the side. You carefully line up the small box on the paper and begin your intensive work. You're a master wrapper, you used to work at the wrapping station in the mall.

“What about you?” He asks before the silence can stretch too far, “you seeing family for the holidays? When you’re not working?”

“Um,” you smile as you look up, “I’m just hanging out with my dog. I bought him a bone.”

“A dog,” he nods, “your family live out of town?”

Usually, you ask the questions. It’s easier that way. It deflects the attention from you. It’s why you like the job; you can hear all about others and not have to think about yourself.

“Yeah, something like that,” you slip the wrapped box into the bag and fluff the tissue paper.

“Eh!” The loud exclamation makes you jump as the man merely turns his head, a tic in his jaw. His eyes narrow as another customer approaches, strutting with hands in his jacket pocket as he calls out, “Barber, what the hell?”

Your customer shifts towards the man, heels squeaking on the floor, “Hugh.”

“Don’t Hugh me, asshole,” the other man retorts, “you said you were busy? What’s the matter, you lose too much money last time?”

“Suzette is in town. Family dinner,” the man, Barber, drones dully.

“Ah, ditched for the old crone, I get it.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, wouldn’t you know it, poker night was canceled, something about not enough seats,” the man counters sharply.

“Next week,” the first man growls.

“Hey, you,” the man in the russet coat snaps his fingers in your direction, “you got some of that Acqua di Gio. That dumb girl over there said you’re sold out.”

Your brows pop up and you swallow tightly. He’s another type. The arrogant demander. He doesn’t hear no. He’ll ask everyone the same question in hope of getting a different answer.

“We are out of stock, sir, but I could order it in for you,” you suggest.

“Order in? I can just go on Amazon, thanks for nothing,” he chops his hand at you dismissively.

“Hey,” the other man nudges his chest, “be nice. She’s working.”

“What? I’m here to spend money and they got shit all–”

“It’s December,” the other man reproaches before he turns back to you, “sorry, my friend is a jerk.” He accepts the gift bag as you hold it out, “thank you. You saved me.”

“No problem, but er, I was gonna say,” you turn to the other man, “sir, I have some samples of the Armani. I could give you those while you wait for the order.”

“Samples?” He echoes, “how many?”

“Let me have a look,” you back up and go to the drawer at the back of the checkout.

“I gotta get going, miss,” the first man waves his hand as you peek over your shoulder, “have a happy holiday.”

“You too,” you chirp back and find the last few tubes of Armani. You claim them and prance back to meet the new customer at the counter, “I have five.” You lay out your wares, “if I order in a bottle it’ll be in just before Christmas.”

“Two weeks?” He puffs.

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s the earliest I can do. It’s the last day I can guarantee delivery before Christmas.”

“Talk, talk, talk, order it,” he snaps.

“Right, let me just…” you open the shop and search up the scent. You add it to the cart and proceed. “Alright, got that, did you want it shipped for pick up here or to your address.”

“Here, they can never fucking find my house,” he sniffs.

“Great, so when it arrives, we’ll give you a call. You’ll also get an email to confirm.”

“What’s going on here?” He points at you suddenly. You look down again at your sweater but don’t see anything amiss. You flinch as he reaches to pinch one of the pearls, “what is this?”

“Oh, I… my sweater,” you raise your head, swallowing down the insult. It’s cute!

“Huh, Walmart clearance, huh,” he scoffs, “alright, how much are you robbing me for?”

He reaches into his coat as you hit total. You read out the final amount but he doesn’t pull out a card; he hands you cash. You count the bills, twice over, then give him his change. He looms with impatient huffs.

“Here’s your receipt,” you hand him the strip of paper. “Have a good day, sir.”

“Mmm,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he shoves the receipt into his pocket, “actually, while I’m here, I’d like a new sweater. You can help me and I’ll show you what real quality is.”

You almost laugh. Not spitefully, it’s just a bit silly. He’s competing with you, a perfume pusher.

“Well, sir, I can point you towards men’s fashion but I’m not able to leave this department, I’m sorry,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Oh no, good girl wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he rolls his eyes, “goody goody and her precious little smile.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “my shit better be in by Christmas.”

He twists and strides away. You watch him go but not for long as you’re quickly distracted by a customer looking at the Britney Spears collection. Those are easy sellers.

#andy barber #lloyd hansen #ransom drysdale #dark andy barber #dark lloyd hansen #dark ransom drysdale #dark!andy barber #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!ransom drysdale #andy barber x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #knives out #the gray man #defending jacob #au #multicharacter #multifandom #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #three for one

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Hi! I really like your writing!

Can I request a MacCready x reader where he's patching you up? If possible, can he be denying/ ignoring being in love with you, too?

Wounds ↠ MacCready x Reader

➼ Word Count » 0.7k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Romantic, Pinning ➼ A/N » Sorry for the wait, love! I couldn't figure out how I should write him for the longest time, and I still don't feel like I did him much justice, but it's done!

You never imagined that your relationship with the sniper would evolve into anything more than business partners. He made it clear from the start that he didn't have any intention to be your friend. You paid him, he did his job, and that's all the two of you would ever be - until you ran out of currency, that is.

You can remember the exact moment you walked into the Third Rail. A pile of newly attained caps in your pocket that jingled together whenever you jostled your leg too quickly. It was a wonder how you managed to make it that far into town without being mugged, but you supposed the vibrant welcoming from the Mayor himself had more to do with it than you actually appearing as a threat to anyone.

You only wandered into the VIP section out of curiosity. You'd always been a sucker for bar fights, so when you heard an argument brewing up in the back, you couldn't help but be a bit nosy about it.

"You have to tell me when something like this happens." He chided, inspecting the gash on your leg with evident concern. "It's too dangerous out here for you to be ignoring something like this."

"Don't get soft on me." You teased, jerking your leg back at the sting that came when he began pouring water on top of the wound.

You knew you probably shouldn't be joking around at a time like this, but what else could you do? You hated the thought of burdening your companion like this, and after you were so close to arriving at Sanctuary too.

His eyes flickered up to meet your own for a minute before casting them back down at the blood he was washing off your body, "I'm not." He hissed, "I'm making sure my only source of caps stays alive."

You hummed in response, "It's only a scratch. It's not like I'll die. Once we make it back to Sanctuary, I'll have Curie take a look at it, and we'll be back on the road."

"Yeah, well, until then, I'm going to make sure you don't get an infection."

You winced again from the feeling of cold water roughly scrubbing at your wound before gazing apologetically at him.

"I'm fine Mac, really," You said, "It's been healing fine on its own for the past couple of days now"

He takes his hat off of his head and runs a stressed hand through his hair.

He did that same motion in the bar where you'd found him, right after Winlock and Barnes were done confronting him. It made you frown slightly when you saw it.

"Are you.. ok?" You asked slowly, resting a hesitant hand on his shoulder, worried that you might've upset him.

"Are you ok?" He retorted, gesturing vaugely toward your injury.

"I feel fine. Really. I'll be able to make it to the settlement without any support." You assured him - or at least tried to, he didn't seem to be feeling any less concerned, though.

"I just - why didn't you tell me?"

"I knew you'd stress about it." You sighed, "It's nothing, ok? I'll be ok for the time being. Once we're there I'll go straight to the Medic house, alright?"

"Whatever." He muttered, "Come on, I'll carry you on my back until we can get you too a real doctor."

You scoffed playfully, "You're too scrawny to-"

"Get on." He spoke, cutting you off. "I want to get there before it gets dark."

You stared at him for a moment before letting out a sigh and grasping onto his shoulders.

He slotted his arms under your knees carefully, and it was clear by the way he moved over debris that he was trying his hardest not to jostle you too much.

His actions only brought you back to the day you had met. You smiled to yourself as you remembered him counting the caps you'd handed to him before he explained he wouldn't be caring for you in any capacity. He was a bodyguard, not a member of the Minutemen. If you couldn't patch yourself up, then there'd be no reason for him to stay.

You supposed something must've changed between then and now, as he did the one thing he told you he wouldn't.

"What are you breathing in my ear for?" He asked defensively. You could feel his face heating up ever so slightly as you rested your head on his shoulder.

You smiled a little wider, "No reason."

#fallout 4 #fo4 #rj maccready #maccready #maccready fallout 4 #maccready x sole #maccready x sole survivor #maccready x reader #maccready oneshot #fallout oneshot #fallout 4 oneshot #fallout fanfic #robert joseph maccready

[vividachromatic]

Meant To Stay The Worst

Pt. 1

Alastor x Reader

(friendship, slowbuild romance)

Pt. 2 ->

Note: This is gonna be a series. Reader and Alastor will be friends and fall in love and marry and meet each other again in hell and rule there as overlords...

Sounds nice and simple. And although all that is true, there will be a lot of emotional drama still. First, because of Alastor's trust issues, but also because they don't have a 'lovey-dovey' nice relationship. There will be fluff, and they'll love each other, yes. But the concept of their relationship is basically supporting each other in making each other worse. Like, they're in hell for a reason and want to stay there... They do morally corrupt things and even when they don't agree with each other they support each other.

I don't think this is dark enough to be considered a dark fic at all, it's more canon typically dark. But just to say this isn't meant to portray a healthy relationship or morals.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, use of Y/N (kill me for it) , Alastor AND reader are on the ace spectrum but don't know , alcohol use, idk tell me if there's smth else

---

There was cake and tea, lovely flowers and lovely dresses. If you'd have been alone this may have been relaxing. But every time you tried to let your mind drift off to something nice - like a scenario of a book you read, the obnoxious voice of your cousin snapped you back to reality.

"Then he told me our offspring would be genetically superior!" She giggled.

"How romantic." You sighed in boredom and tried focusing on something else. Being forced to drink tea with your lovely cousin who tormented you ever since childhood, just so she could please her own sadistic desires was something you had to do as a representing lady of your house.

God being a woman in the 1930s was exhausting.

Your cousin Maria rolled her eyes at you. "Does it make you happy to be so negative all the time? You know you're gonna die alone if you don't fix this attitude of yours, right? You act like you're better than me, but at least men like me." She gave you a smug grin.

"Yeah, congratulations. I'm actually not really interested in the constant humiliation of being treated like a lesser human being, nor the year-long physical abuse I'd have to endure until I'd finally finish slowly poisoning my husband's tea."

Maria narrowed her eyes at your audacity to speak your opinion. Then she cleared her throat and smirked at you again - this was the look she always had as a child when she was about to torture you. "Speaking of which... I actually have someone you may be interested in meeting this time."

You just stared at her blankly without a response. You were forced to go on dates with different men all the time.

You were 21 and still not married, which was just a scandal for your family. But, you always managed to successfully scare these men away on your dates. Because you're a woman, your opinion of whether or not they'd be a good spouse obviously didn't matter, so you had to think of creative ways to make them not want to choose you.

After noticing your lack of response to her statement, Maria simply continued, "See there is this radio broadcast I've been listening to and this broadcaster... he just had such a hot voice! And he talked about some stuff... I don't know what, I didn't really listen, but he seemed proper, so I asked my dad to use his power to arrange a date for me! But, when I researched him further... I think he's a little poor actually, he wore this fake brand... also he doesn't really look like how I expected him to look, so... since you're all for this equality stuff I thought it'd be perfect. My dad is mad at me since he already paid for the date, so you're perfect!" She finished, giving you a fake smile.

"Hmm... this actually sounds like your problem, not mine." You gave her a fake smile back.

The girl just gave you an angry look and finished drinking her tea in silence.

Oh, you were so sure she was going to try to find a way to punish you for this.

And right you were. Your dad informed you the same day that you were going to go on that date. And you should definitely look out to not fuck this one up again.

Your father even acted like he cared about you for a second, explaining how this is what you must do in this world. Even if it's not perfect. You just went to your room in silence, trying not to cry in front of him.

This world was cruel. Your brother followed society's expectations and was fine. Your cousin followed society's expectations and was fine. You didn't and were unhappy. So was this truly the answer?

The next day you made yourself ready - skipping breakfast.

You'd just scare off this man like the others. Maybe you'd have to marry someone mediocre one day. Or maybe you were gonna run away someday. You weren't sure yet.

Arriving at the restaurant you recognized the cheesy interior suiting the style of your cousin and her father immediately.

The polite waiter recognized your face and showed you your table.

This supposed date of yours already sat there. When he saw you walking towards him, he immediately stood up and politely extended his hand to you. You took it and he planted a short kiss on your knuckles. The waiter handed you the menus and excused himself.

The man had a polite and big smile on his face and pulled your seat back, waiting for you to sit down until he sat down himself giving you a small bow. "My name is Alastor! It's a pleasure to be meeting you my dear, quite a pleasure."

He was definitely polite. But you did see what your cousin meant by saying he was probably not from a rich family. His moves seemed too much like he memorized them from a book only a short while ago, and not from real experience. His clothes seemed expensive for someone from a lower class but not higher. He also looked more dark-skinned than people in your family would probably find great.

"My name is Y/N. It's a pleasure to be meeting you, too." You tried giving him an honest smile back. He was probably gonna turn out to be an asshole, too, like all the guys, but for now, he hasn't done anything wrong.

The two of you exchanged light small talk before ordering your meals. You were surprised to see him ordering a heavy meal with a lot of meat and strongly seasoned. You of course didn't care what he was gonna eat and ordered your favorite meal, too, whatever his opinion may be, but you were used to everyone ordering the same boring and light stuff to seem healthy and well-mannered.

The conversation seemed superficial and boring but not too bad. He had at least not shown any extremely radical opinions or behavior yet.

His smile remained on his face throughout the whole conversation and after a while, he cleared his throat and explained kindly to you: "Look, you seem like a really beautiful and lovely woman, any man would be lucky to have you. This is why I have to be honest with you and tell you: I'm actually not interested in any romantic relationship or anything similar. But I am flattered by the letter you sent me and I do enjoy your company..." his smile didn't falter as he tried to politely let you down. It did though, when he saw your unusual reaction to his rejection.

Your always neutral-looking face until now, was slowly forming a smile and your eyes lit up. You were offended he actually thought your cousin's (probably vile) letter was written by you, but all in all you were glad, because this man didn't actually expect to sleep with you or even continue meeting.

You let out a relieved laugh. After seeing his confused face you quickly apologized, "I'm sorry, I just- my father forces me to go on these dates when I'm not actually looking for a relationship. I was already prepared to try to make up some story to scare you off, too, like I always do. But it seems like I may actually be able to enjoy a dinner for once without pretensions or expectations."

Though scaring men away can be entertaining in itself, too.

Your truly relieved smile, while picking up your food made Alastor smile again, too.

"Well if that's the case, I am happy we're on the same page, then. Though I am surprised about this... letter of yours then." He smiled gently, though his eyebrows scrunched a little in irritation when he said the word letter.

You then explained the existence of your cousin with a roll of your eyes and an embarrassed smile.

From that point on your conversation was much lighter and actually enjoyable. You both shared your annoyance at everyone's expectation to have to marry to have a life worth living. You then shared your struggle specifically as a woman. Marrying a man basically meant selling yourself to another man after you belonged to your father. It's like being an object.

Surprisingly, he actually agreed and talked about feminism and how much he appreciated women, especially his mother who solely cared for him since he was little.

He then explained how he definitely didn't want to meet the person who wrote that letter and expected an awful evening, but his mother encouraged him to at least try to meet a girl for once. This then ended in you talking shit about your cousin and him laughing about it.

It's the first time you talked to someone who actually shared your opinion. Of course, you knew those people existed, there was a wave of feminist women nowadays, calling themselves 'flappers' and even some men supported it. But you were never able to meet any of them, the only people you met were the same old, sheltered relatives of yours or their acquaintances.

You did have a thirst for knowledge though, which was the reason you knew about all of this in the first place, even when you were supposed to only associate yourself with a certain circle of people.

But you loved to read books you weren't supposed to and you loved to express yourself through art, when you weren't supposed to.

You tried learning basic self-defense too, but it wasn't easy through words alone and nobody wanted to teach you, because it was 'unlady-like'.

Alastor listened to you talking with a smile and nodded. He then explained how he hung around Jazz bars pretty often and got to know many beautiful feminist women there. You listened attentively. You heard about these places and wanted to go there for some time... Alastor noticed your interest and invited you to show you around one of these bars sometime.

You agreed with a genuine happy smile. This meeting was so unexpectedly nice. And you probably even made an actual friend for once.

"I do have to ask... you said you scare men away usually?" He asked and you nodded with a grin.

"So, how do you do that exactly?" He asked with a smirk while eating his steak.

"I usually just pretend to be a witch, a cannibal or a serial killer. Always works." You shrugged. Convincing men of these things over one date was actually easier than you'd think. And it did make sure they would never want to contact you again.

"Oh? But you're not, right?" He asked, his smile not wavering.

"Hmmm..." You obviously assumed his question to be a joke or rhetorical and answered, "No, I'm sadly not that interesting." You grinned and he gave you a weird grin back.

After the date, he walked you back to your house like a proper gentleman and kissed the back of your hand again when saying goodbye. He was a proper gentleman, not condescending or expectant of anything. This was definitely nice.

When you arrived back home you seemed surprisingly happier than your father or your brother expected you to be. They asked you how it went and you just said it went well and returned to your room.

...

One week later you met Alastor again in front of a local Jazz Bar. He politely offered to intertwine his arm with yours before entering the place.

Inside you were immediately greeted with...

"Alastor!!!" A small blonde girl hugged him with huge enthusiasm. He awkwardly patted her back.

"Aww!! Who is this sweet doll you brought with you?" The girl grinned at you.

"This is Y/N. A new friend of mine." Alastor introduced you to the short, chubby girl. You gave her a shy wave with your hand.

She immediately took your hand and dragged you into the club. "Well, Alastor's friends are my friends! You're pretty! Can you do the Charleston?" You blinked at her in confusion, looking around you, trying to find Alastor. You weren't used to people touching you or dragging you around this much... was this gonna go bad?

"Mimzy! How about you leave this lovely, little fellow to me, hm? She's still quite new to the scene." Alastor grinned at the girl and took your hand to guide you to him again. You sighed in relief. This girl seemed nice, but you didn't know her.

"Hmmm..." The girl glanced between you and Alastor with a thoughtful expression. "Alright! Does the new girl at least want some alc?" She grinned.

You politely told her the drink you wanted and Alastor just said 'the usual' with a dismissive wave of his hand and a smile. Mimzy nodded and left the two of you.

Alastor now led you to a private boot. You felt awkward. You were usually not too shy, but this situation was so unfamiliar.

"Hey..." You felt a hand on top of yours. "Relax." Alastor smiled at you. You nodded with a sigh.

Later Mimzy came back with a glass of your drink and a bottle of whiskey for her and Alastor. They ended up sharing the bottle with you after.

Mimzy smoked a cigar and encouraged you to try it, too - you did and though it was nice, you had to cough a lot.

Mimzy just giggled, calling you cute. Later she and Alastor showed you how to dance the Charleston. At first, you were embarrassed to try it, but after a couple of drinks, you were convinced.

After dancing for a while you sat back in the corner of the booth, Alastor smiling at you and pouring you another drink. "I'm grateful, but I think this is gonna be the last one." You tried not to slur your words too much and smiled at him, still out of breath and blushing from the dancing and the alcohol.

He nodded. "I'll walk you back home, of course." You smiled at him in gratitude.

This was probably one of the most enjoyable night you've had in a while. Though it probably was just a regular one for Alastor and his friend. You wondered if she was his girlfriend, she was pretty and he said he wasn't interested in romancing you.

Later when Alastor walked you home he gave you a small kiss on the cheek, despite this not being labeled as an actual date.

Alastor grinned at your face flushing in embarrassment and he asked you if you'd want to repeat the night. You enthusiastically agreed.

--------------------

This fic is my offering to the Helluva/Hazbin God to finally grace us with Helluva Boss s2 ep8 🙏🙏🙏 (I know I'm pushing my luck here, but also please let Blitzo and Stolas fix their relationship- okay now I'm getting delusional)

If you want to know how girlie scared off men, I just had 'Red Flags' by Tom Cardy in mind lmao.

Anyway, I've planned way more parts for this one, including when they are both married and in hell, so stay tuned!

#alastor hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #x reader #fanfic #alastor x reader

[mncxbe]

hiii! i hope ur requests are open and if theyre not im very sorry and ignore this!

ive been thinking too much about dazai with a younger reader whos 15 and reminds him a lot of himself. like he remembers what oda said and becomes determined to steer u down the right path

overall becomes a sweet (but very annoying sometimes) big brother figure <333

nonnie♡♡ this is hhh such a nice idea I went a bit silly with it hope u like it. he would definitely try to bring you on the right path. to make things even more interesting let's assume you're from the PM.

The two of you met when he was out on a mission with Atsushi. Naturally, he paid no attention to you, a little scrawny kid scrolling on her phone, walking in their direction. But that was until you suddenly attacked them.

You were so relentless in your fight that you ended up badly injured, so they had to take you back to the Ada office to get treated by Yosano. After all, a Port Mafia member or not, Dazai couldn't bring himself to let a kid die.

When you eventually woke up in the infirmery you saw him standing at the edge of your bed, arms crossed in front of his chest as he watched you intently.

"You feeling better kid?" he asked and you only nodded in response, eyes darting around the room, taking in your surroundings.

Dazai noticed the cunning look on your face, the way you scanned the room for possible escapes while still maintaining a nonchalant facade and couldn't help but chuckle.

"Now, now don't worry kid. We'll let you go as soon as you answer some questions"

Dazai asked you about your mission and your involement with your Port Mafia; routine questions mostly: how you ended up working for them, who you serve under, how long you've been with the PM- things to which you gave a half-hearted, disinterested response. But you refused to get into detail about the organization's plans; no matter how much he persuaded you and tried to get inside your head, you just wouldn't break.

With each calculated reply Dazai saw more of his younger self in you; the innate ability to lie like it was your second nature, the way you managed to turn any conversation in your favour and mostly, how impassive you were to any of his threaths.

"You know, if you refuse to cooperate I'm gonna have to get the information out of you in other ways"

You simply sighed, idly picking at your nails. "Well, pain would be bothersome, but I'd rather die than betray the Mafia"

Dazai saw an opening, a slight crack in your carefully built facade "So you're that afraid of what they might do to you if they find out you're a traitor?"

"Nah, but I prefer to stay true to the things I believe in. After all, does life have any value if you give up on your beliefs?"

There it was, the answer he was looking for. Sighing, he rose to his feet, staring down at you "That's quite grim for a kid your age to say."

"I don't think it's grim. More like honest, but who am I to discuss the value of life with you?" you said casually, pointing at his bandages.

"Oh wow touché" he chuckled "But what exactly are those values you're so keenly holding on to, some principles passed down to you by the boss? Can you really call those things values?"

"Sure I can. As long as they give me a purpose to live" For a brief moment you caught a shadow of doubt on the brunette's face. He was conflicted, you could tell.

"You know" he started again "I once thought the same as you do, that good and evil don't matter as long as you do a job and get it done well, but violence and death only give birth to more violence and death. It's a vicious cycle, really, so don't expect to find a purpose or a reason to live in that."

You lowered your gaze, continuing to pick at your nails and he knew the conversation was over. He wasn't gonna get anything out of you.

"Look, kid, you're wasting yourself in there. If you want a reason to live I can give it to you"

"And why would you do that? You don't seem the type to do charity work?"

"Let's just say that that's my purpose in life, to guide people like you on the right path"

"People like me? Meaning petty criminals working for the Mafia?" you inquired mockingly, raising a brow.

Dazai scoffed at your remark "We both know you're more than a petty criminal, but yes. People like you, who don't take life for granted and want to understand its meaning."

"So now you can psychoanalyse me too hm? Are you gonna tell me this mentality of mine comes from the fact that I grew up without a father figure or...?"

Your witty remarks were starting to get to him, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Nah, it comes from the fact that all you've seen in your life is evil and look where this has gotten you. Five years in the Mafia and you're still where you were at the beginning, still searching for a deeper meaning in life. We're more alike than you may think, kid. As I said, I used to be in the same position you're in"

You shrugged, feigning disinterest, but he could tell his words were affecting you.

"And your point is?"

Taking in a deep breath, Dazai combed a hand through his hair "My point is that you should leave the Mafia and join us. Change your perspective. If finding a purpose in life truly is your goal, then you won't regret this decision. Trust me"

You both stood in silence for a while as you considered his proposal. You could technically leave the Mafia, it's not like working there has gotten you anywhere. No matter how many missions you completed or how fast you climbed the ladder, there was still a nagging feeling that you could do more, that there was more to life than this.

You finally raised your gaze to meet his and gave a small nod. "I'll think about it."

"Good, you do that, kid"

Dazai helped you out of the bed and walked you to the front of the building. You left without even saying goodbye, making your way down the street; towards the Port Mafia headquarters. Dazai watched you slowly walk away, your figure growing smaller with each step you took and somewhere deep down he was sure he'd see you again.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai bsd #dazai x reader #bsd port mafia

[thcfountain]

I recieved 2 requests for enemies to lovers between Matt and Reader.

tags: enemies to lovers, mentions of male masturbation, implied degradation kink.

word count: 2,029

banner cred. Join my tag list.

tag list: @to-be-written @th4t-em0-k1d @cheyyyr @somewhere-diamond @ravieisunhinged @blackveilomens @sprokat @jilliemiw86 @cookiesupplier @emmmm127 @thatchickwiththecamera

A/N: Hey guys, sorry about the somewhat hiatus that happened from me without warning. I don't have an excuse for vanishing really, so I'm sorry and please know that I'm working on your requests now!

“I do not need an assistant,” came the same complaint that Matt had already given the rest of the band multiple times over the course of the last week.

Unfortunately, Matt did need an assistant, so much so that he had been complaining about it for months. The bigger the band got, the more responsibilities hit his plate and the less time he had to work on each responsibility, let alone have time for the occasional problem that occurred. He was stretched thin and the band knew it. Noah had told Matt not to worry, that he would find Matt the perfect assistant and that had been that.

At least until Noah had announced the new hire.

There weren't many people in Virginia that Noah kept in touch with, outside of Ruffilo's family and her. A childhood friend of Noah and Nicholas who was still close enough to both of them that Matt and the band and crew had met her and hung out with her on a multitude of occasions over the years.

Matt knew Noah had a soft spot for y/n - they had met in high school and back then she had been just as enamored with the music industry as Noah and from what Matt knew, she had doubled as photographer and occasional manager for Noah's high school band. (Of course she was also a high school student, so Matt had been put under the impression that Noah and his ex bandmates had paid her in drinks or weed or dinner here and there.) 

She had gone on to work as a tour manager for a few small bands here and there since then and maybe Matt would have been more impressed if he didn't hate her.

“She's extremely professional, you could do a lot worse,” Noah countered Matt's complaint in a tone that said he wasn't going to have this argument again.

Matt persisted, he wasn't the hater king for nothing after all, “she's obnoxious, she's not as good as you think she is, she'll slow me down or get in the way,” he listed off his reasons.

So called ‘boba’ eyes roll as Noah doesn't even make an attempt at hiding his own annoyance towards Matt's complaints. “I don't know what your issue with her is,” he says, pointing a finger in Matt's direction, “but you need to get over it. The decision is made and I'm not going to listen to you hate on my friend the entire time she's under our employment. Which means suck it up.”

And that was that. Case closed, at least in Noah's opinion.

With tour upcoming, Matt had a long list of things that needed to be finalized before they left. Normally it would have taken him days to get through them all but she showed up (and Matt could only describe her as a whirlwind) and took one look at his list and completed more than half in a day.

With ease and professionalism, she finalized hotel rooms across the tour as well as a slew of other things, leaving Matt more angry than relieved. She made his job easier while simultaneously making it all look too easy.

“What's with that scowl?” she asked, smacking him in the face with a pen in what he could only assume was her attempt at being silly. “If you want, I can pick up lunch while you finish your half of the list?”

The pen is yanked from her hand and tossed aside, hitting the floor with a clack and although it was a relatively quiet noise, it felt all too loud in the sudden silence between them. There was an intensity in Matt's eyes that she hadn't before noticed. He suddenly seemed to loom over her, as if his anger had made him taller but she was used to tantrums and shitty people, it came with the territory of working in the industry and so she held her ground, meeting his gaze with an unblinking stare.

The silence remained for a good 30 seconds as neither of them said anything, each waiting for the other to back down and break the silence first. She wasn't afraid, at least not of Matthew Dierkes, he was all talk and no walk, and she knew it. And he knew she knew.

“You should quit,” he says finally, breaking the silence between them with quiet words filled with anger. “I don't want you here.”

“Too bad, throw this small dick syndrome tantrum elsewhere because we both know I'm doing a good job,” and with that, she spun around on her heel and walked away, head high and without a glance back in his direction to see whether or not the words had stung him.

He didn't want to admit it or even think about what it meant for him, but her attitude and crude remark, paired with that cleat confidence went straight to his dick.

The thought of her plagued his mind. He ran and re-ran her every word in his head, again and again as he laid in bed that night. He fell asleep to thoughts of her and those thoughts turned into dreams.

Dreams that woke Matt up in the middle of the night, his cock straining against his boxers as precum made a small wet patch over the fabric. He palmed his erection through his boxers, half asleep and thinking of her and how she stood up to him. He pushed his boxers down his thighs, just enough to free his cock before spitting into his palm.

It didn't take much - just a few strokes over his cock before he was shooting ropes of cum over his stomach and chest. 

“Fuckin’ Y/N,” he murmured.

Gear and suitcases and everything in between had been loaded onto the bus and band and crew had chosen their bunks. Matt wasn't exactly sure how it happened but he had a sneaking suspicion that Noah had been involved, but Matt had ended up with the bunk beneath Y/N's. His suspicions were immediately confirmed by a wink from the frontman and Matt had a moment of fear, wondering if somehow Noah had found out about Matt's late night masturbation session and who exactly he had been getting off to.

He shook those thoughts from his head because as weird as Noah could sometimes be, he definitely wasn't a mind reader.

“Uh-oh, Matt, looks like we're bunked close together. Hope that doesn't cause you to have a piss party,” she stated, tossing her bag into her bunk.

“The shits a piss party?” he grumbled back, immediately back to his hater self. “You say the stupidest shit. Fuck, you're so annoying.”

Jolly, from his own bunk, nodded solemnly at Matt. “I've had a piss party,” he stated and then proceeded not to elaborate further and Matt wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

As the weeks crept by, Matt became more and more agitated. He couldn't deny that Noah had been right about Y/N being a good assistant tour manager. No matter what kind of shit was flung at her, she handled it quickly and professionally which ultimately made Matt's job easier. 

He tried to find things to nitpick and reasons to be mad, but he failed. Her time working as a tour manager for other, smaller bands, had given her plenty of experience and the very few times that she came up lacking or un-knowledgeable, she proved to be a quick learner.

As much as he hated to admit it, she was the proverbial yin to his yang.

“Hey, Matt,” her voice knocked him out of his thoughts about her and he turned to face her. They'd just finished loading the last of their gear back up and the band had dispersed to figure out their dinner situations. “Let's go get dinner,” she continued and then gave him a mischievous grin. “You're paying since you've been eye-fucking me for the last hour.”

“I have not,” he denied, immediately following after her as she began walking in some direction, clearly having an idea of where she wanted them to get dinner. “You are so fucking full of yourself, you know?”

“Yeah, because I'm the fucking shit,” she answered. “Plus anyone with eyes can tell you wish I was full of you.” She waggled a finger at him. “I finally have you figured out. Well actually, Noah figured you out and then ratted you out.”

Noah Fucking Sebastian. He loved the man but hated how easily Noah figured out how to fuck with him. And this time it was by realizing that Matt had developed feelings for Y/N.

He snorted and then went silent, unable to think of a comeback for what she had said. So instead he just shrugged and followed her into the little restaurant. He was somewhat surprised the place was still open but that was the bright side to American tours, there was always one or two little places with kitchens that didn't close until one or two am.

He followed her up to the counter and, yes, he paid for her meal too. It wasn't until they sat down to eat that he finally had input to give on her little revelation towards his feelings.

“Noah's a bitch,” he grumbled. “But yeah, fuck it, he's right. I guess you aren't that bad.”

She laughed and then choked on her drink, causing him to smile. “It didn't take him long to figure it out since you keep moaning my name in your sleep at night. Here I thought you were fighting me in your dreams but Noah said those were wet dream moans.”

It was Matt's turn to choke then. “I fucking did not do that,” he argued in horror.

“Ask anyone on the bus, they'll agree that you did,” came her amused response. “Kinda cute in a perverted way.”

“That shits fucking embarrassing,” he said, unable to believe that this was how the current admission to feelings was happening. If he wasn't as close to the guys as he was, he might have crawled into a hole to die.

She caught him by surprise, leaning over their little dinner table to steal a kiss. “Shit talk me again and I'll beat your ass,” she warns.

“Not going to lie, that kinda turns me on,” he laughs, cheeks going a little red because its true.

“Well in that case the next hotel we're all in, come to my room and I'll beat your ass for fun.”

He reaches across the table, taking her hand in his, not exactly sure what this meant for their relationship or how they would even define whatever this was between them.

“Noah's never going to let you live this down,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Lets fuck with him and fight even worse and see how long it takes for him to figure it out.”

“I might be a little in love with you now,” he says, agreeing to her proposal. “Maybe we can trick him into buying us dinner while we're at it.”

The two of them walked back to the bus, practically giggling over their little prank idea on Noah.

Noah, who took one look at them over the top of his phone when they got back, and then proceeded to announce to the whole bus that Matt and Y/N were dating. 

“Please,” Noah says after the announcement, “you two have been in denial about liking each other since you met. I'm just surprised it took this long. You're both welcome for setting you up by the way. When you get married, I expect to be the maid of honor and the best man.”

“You motherfucker. I love you though,” Y/N says with a laugh. 

“Hey, remember the bus rules you two,” Jolly adds quickly. “No fucking on the bus. Unless I'm allowed to join.”

Matt handed his new girlfriend the pillow off his bunk wordlessly and then cheered her on as she used it to beat the shit out of Jolly. 

“Thanks, Noah,” Matt added quietly and Noah just laughed before retreating to his own bunk.

#matt dierkes fanfic #matt dierkes x reader

[xotaemintol]

SUB!TAEMIN x READER: “ABSOLUTION”

“My church offers no absolutes, she tells me worship in the bedroom” - HOZIER

TWS: Dom and Sub dynamics, dominant reader, submissive idol, oral sex (m receiving + f receiving), degradation, name calling, praise, hair pulling, (edging just in case), face sitting, and that’s all for now!

Pronouns used: NONE! :)

Plot: After Taemin ignores your warnings to behave himself backstage you are caught kissing by other staff members and being scolded, you decide to teach him a lesson about self control at home.

Word Count: 3257

Part:1/2

As you sit beside Taemin with your legs crossed and your phone in your hands, you tap your foot, he could feel the anger seeping from your core as you paid him no mind at all, completely ignoring how he tried to hold your hand and brushing him off calmly when he put his hand on your thigh. He just wanted to comfort you, mostly for his own sake, but still comfort you all the same, but you're mind was already made, and he'd have to deal with the consequences, the only thing saving him now is the lengthy car ride home with his manager, who had picked up on the energy before the show even finished and decided to try and brighten the mood by complimenting Taemin saying: "You did amazing tonight, Taemin," but when he asked you what you thought, it was clear that you weren't in the mood to be cheered up, "well," you started, "I think he was good, I'm just glad it's over for now," your cold response made Taemin pout beside you.

Luckily the car ride came to an end, you kindly thanked Nam Euisoo and exited the car with Taemin following on foot, every step into his apartment made his heart pound in anticipation, and you couldn't help but grin as you reached the door. As you unlocked the door you could feel Taemin behind you, he placed his hand on your hip, once again trying to soothe the anger and make you forget that you were upset with him, but it didn't work, you ignored his hand, and as you both stepped inside you slipped off your shoes and took off your jacket, making sure to move as slow as possible. "Y/N," Taemin started, his voice sounding so anxious, it made you smile even more as you looked at him and saw how he tried to hide his nervous grin. "Don't you think you've been mean enough? I mean, I wasn't that bad, right?"

You laughed, crossing the floor you stand in front of him, and even though he's taller and has the power to take control, Taemin has never been ashamed or afraid to let you take control, and remind him that as much as you belong to him, he belongs to you. So as you ranked your fingers through his hair, and quickly yanked the locks, he followed your hand, knowing right away that you wanted him to be eye level with him, "do you think, that me ignoring you was the punishment?" You asked, your grip becomes tighter, "I warned you," you said, "you can't get out of it now." A soft whimper escaped his pink lips, his head craned up toward the ceiling as you tighten your grip a little more. "Now," you finally let go, the burning sensation in Taemin's scalp makes his knees feel weak, "be a good boy, and get on your knees."

Taemin hesitated just a little, as much as he enjoys you being in control, the feeling of you pulling his hair drove him wild, and now all he wanted was to get you on the bed and feel your nails running down his back, your hand in his hair, and your legs around his waist as he rammed into you over and over again. "Did you hear me?" You grab his face, the rough action makes his eyes widen, "I said, get on your knees." Taemin obliged, getting on his knees in front of you and looking up at you with low, lustful eyes. Even like this, he still manages to look irresistible. "Good boy," you grab his face again, this time a little softer, and kiss him, although you were the one leading, Taemin still took the lead in moving his tongue into your mouth as you stood over him. He reached for your pants, trying to unbutton them as quickly as possible.

You grin into the kiss and smacked his hand away, "be patient, or I'll give you nothing," he whined and you pulled away, and pushed him back with your foot, you forced him to lay on the floor, standing with one foot on his shoulder and the other beside his chest. "I think you need a reminder that you can't always have what you want." He looked up at you with desperate eyes and wet lips, the look on his face tell you just how badly he wants you and how he'd do anything to have you right now. "Because it seems like you forgot how to behave in public." Your harsh tone had him itching to see what you'd do to him tonight.

"I can't help it..." He said with an excited grin on his face, his cheeks flushed as he looks at you saying: "You know I can't resist you, baby." You give him a look of faux sympathy, pouting your lips as you lean down to him, "Really? I thought you were just a stupid little kitten in heat," You teased, the playful yet bashful tone sets fire in him and the way he looks at you makes you thrive with excitement. You lick your lips, the frustration and heat from his look setting in faster than your will to take control, if it's one thing Taemin can do to escape punishment, it gives you a look that says he'd do anything, for you. "Now, get up and crawl to me..." Your order is a simple one that you know he'll follow, so without even looking back at him make sure you turn around and begin to walk to the bedroom.

Out of pure curiosity and to fuel your desire, you look back to see him and the sight of him crawling on his hands and knees behind you makes you grin, it fills you with delight to see how obedient he can truly be. As you reached the bed you sat down and he stopped in front of you, getting on his knees and looking up at you with curious and lustful eyes, "Such a good boy," You grab his face and pull him closer, "Do you think you deserve a treat for being obedient?" He nodded his head, biting his plush bottom lip as he looked you dead in the eyes, "Y-Yes...Please," His soft voice pleads with you and you love every second of it, the sound of his voice almost makes you want to go easy on him, but you know how much he loves it when you're rough with him.

"Of course you fucking do," You let go of his face, roughly shoving him back as you roll your eyes, "Stand up." Although it was a simple task it made Taemin's stomach swirl, the way you looked at him with such little care and remorse for his behavior and ordered him around made him painful hard already. As he stood up you grinned and crossed your legs, "Good boy...Now strip," You could see the eagerness in his eyes as you said this, the way he licked his lips and looked down at you made between your legs feel so warm that you couldn't help but squeeze them together. As Taemin reached to take off his belt the tension in the room began to rise, suddenly everything felt hotter and when he tossed it aside and began discarding his pants you were almost too hungry with desire and lust to wait.

You watch with hungry eyes as he takes off his shirt and throws it to the side, leaving him in only his underwear, they didn't do much to cover him with his cock pressed so tightly against them, the way they dig into his hips and sat lowly around his waist was beautiful, but you didn't tell him to model, you told him to strip, so he slowly tugged them down. You can't stop yourself from biting your lip as you watch them become lower and when they finally fall and his cock springs free you almost moan from the arousal, as his length slaps against his abdomen you lick your lips and look up at him. "Aren't you an obedient slut?" You grin and motion for him to come closer, as he does you lean forward and look up at him. His breathing speeds up and his dick twitches from just being exposed like this.

You look up at him for a second, building suspense before finally, you drag your finger up his thick cock, he flinched from the touch and quietly yelped with a deep breath from the sudden feeling of your finger against him. "For such a desperate whore, you really are sensitive..." You press your finger against the leaking slit of his cock and lick your lips as he flinched at the touch and bucks his hips, "S-Shit..." You raise your eyebrows at him and swirl your finger around his pink head, "Shit?" You chuckle to yourself and continue to tease him with just one finger, "Do you want more?" He nodded, of course he would, but you weren't going to give him anything that easily, "Isn't that too bad that you're a disobedient whore then?" He whimpers as you continue to jab at him and his cock twitches aggressively.

"So pathetic..." You finally give him more and wrap your hand around him, looking up into his eyes as you slowly begin to stroke his dick, his eyes closed as he sighed sexually and shuddered, "Maybe if you weren't such a dumb slut, and had a shred of dignity, you would get more...but since you're such a filthy Exhibitionist who can't keep his hands to himself, I'll give you what I think you deserve." You bite your lip as he struggles not to thrust into your hand and become a mess, even if he did he knew it would only result in more torment for the night. You watch his face for a while, basking in the desperate look on his face as you teased him, it only became more pleasing when you sped up just a little. Taemins knees buckle and he tilts his head back just a little, "You're so pretty like this baby boy," He moaned at your healthy mixture of praise and degradation, "You'd look even prettier cumming for me, isn't that right?"

Taemin looked down at you and nodded his head while licking his slightly red lips, "Of course, you think so, such a dumb thing." His legs buckle once again, you take his weakness as the perfect chance to give a change of pace and finally lick a stripe up from your hand, to the head of his cock, he shuddered letting out a shaky moan as he bit down on his lip. You swirl your tongue around it and move your hand knowing that he was becoming more sensitive from your teasing, "P-Please my love...your tongue feels so good." Your body feels hotter as you listen to his lascivious voice, although you were in charge you couldn't fight the fire burning between your legs and the desire to feel him in your mouth. You hesitated just a little but carefully guided him into your mouth, your tongue lies flat against the underside of his cock and your soft lips wrap around him. The sudden warmth and wetness of your mouth make his breathing so uneven that he feels lightheaded.

Lightheaded with an overpowering feeling of sexual hormones you slowly begin to suck him in, look up at him as his heavy cock slides against your tongue, the erotic feeling of him twitching in your mouth and making you reach down to touch yourself. "Fuck...your mouth feels so good baby...oh my god..." You continue, allowing him to just barely move his hips and thrust into your mouth it only got you more excited, but you needed to keep control and put him in his place. You pull off of him and he whimpers, pouting as he looked down at you with low and lustful eyes, his heavy gazes and needy expressions are pornographic. "I think you had enough," You lean back and push yourself further onto the bed as you stare into his eyes, "Undress me."

Taemin obeys once again, ignoring his painfully hard cock as he hastily removed your pants and threw them aside with his clothes, as he removed your underwear you shivered from the cold air of the room hitting your wet pussy, the sight of your bare legs and cunt made him want to devour you. "Come kiss me," You didn't have to tell him twice, Taemin was dying to kiss you so he quickly got on top of you and pressed his lips against yours. Neither of you were in the mood to go slow, you hungrily kissed each other and allowed yourselves to completely surrender to your carnal desires. His hands slide up your hips and under your shirt, and as his tongue dances with yours, you become drunk with lust and you wrap your legs around his waist and pull his body closer so that you could grind against him. As Taemin's hands slide under your bra he takes your movement as a hint and follows your lead, rolling his hips into yours and grinding against you.

You moan into his mouth and put your hand in his hair, if you didn't take control now then he'd become wild and you'd forget your point without teaching him anything, so you pulled his hair and yanked his head back to force him to pull away. His soft whimper and the way his hips shuttered made you breathlessly laugh, "If you weren't so fucking good at this I'd let you go to bed with blue balls," You said jokingly as you moved your legs from his waist, "Lay on the bed, you're taking too long." Taemin nodded and quickly laid on the bed, his heart pounded as he licked his lips and watched you climb on top of him, as you took off your shirt and discarded your bra your stomach began to swarm with heat, you wanted him inside of you now. You lower yourself and line him up with your entrance but he stopped you, in a pretty and desperate tone he asked with doe eyes that you couldn't resist: "Can I taste you first?"

You bit your lip and tilted your head to the side as you grinned, "Isn't that cute?" Your seductive tone makes his whole body feel like it could explode, "You want me to let you eat me out?" He nodded his head enthusiastically, if there's one thing Taemin loves it's having you on his tongue, no matter who's in control Taemin has always loved pleasing you. "Yes, please my love...sit on my face." You almost cursed at his request, how could you deny him? Without hesitation you positioned yourself above his face and looked down at him, knowing that Taemin has always been against you only hovering you weren't surprised when he hooked his arms around your thighs and lead you to sit all the way down on his face. The moment you feel his mouth on your pussy you tremble and your hips jerk, you instinctively move and put your hand in his hair as his tongue gracefully slides between your beautiful folds.

"Oh my god!" He makes quick work to get you riled up, moving his tongue up and down between your wetness as his pillow-like lips rub against your clit, already you felt like you were going to melt from the way he took his time eating you out, and when he shifted his focus to your clit and began to practically kiss it you crumbled over and moaned out loudly. You arch your back as chills rise from your spin and you throw your head back, your juice flows down his chin and trickle down his neck as you ride his face. Your eyes rolled back and you fight with yourself not to begin humping his face, "Taem...Taemin!" Your toes curled and you try to pull yourself off of his face but he holds you still and continues to move his tongue against your clit. "S-Shit...Stop...fuck!" You pulled his hair harder as you whined and rolled your hips against his face, but he didn't listen, Taemin was set on making you cum on his face.

You could hardly care, the way he closed his eyes and pulled you down even harder told you that his mind was made even if it would only put him in a deeper hole. "My god!" You cried out as you threw your head back, pressure builds in your stomach as it clinched and your grip on his hair loosens, only to tighten when he began to trace tight circles on your clit with his tongue. Your loud moans turn into deep heavy breaths, you struggle to contain yourself as you thrashed above him and he loved it. The sound of your voice made Taemin want to touch himself so badly and the taste of you on his tongue was driving him wild, but even with you being in charge he refused to go any further if he wasn't going to make you cum first. Taemin has never once fucked you or been fucked by you without making you cum at least once before being inside of you, he'd rather edge himself for hours than cum first.

Your toes curl as a coil begins to form in your stomach, it didn't take long for Taemin to get you close, so the feeling of a knot forming in your stomach so soon didn't shock you. "Ooh...oh my god..." you cover your mouth and look down at him with your eyebrows knotted and one hand still in his hair, "T-Taemin..." you bite your lip, throwing your head back as you let the feeling of pure ecstasy take over you. Chills wash over your body as your thoughts completely melt away, you can't stop the string of soft whimpers, mewls, and moans that escape you and you couldn't care to. Taemins tongue felt like heaven and as you grind against his face and he hummed softly it pushed you even closer to the edge. Taemin didn't pull away for a second despite feeling lightheaded from the lack of air, he needed to make you cum, but to keep himself from passing out he decided to press his tongue into your clit a little harder and focus his movements even more.

The slight change had you almost screaming as that coil in your stomach tightens until it finally snaps, your vision becomes blurry and waves of oxytocin and dopamine hit you like a tidal wave, your body tensed and your hips bucked against Taemin's face, it didn't take long for your clit to become sensitive as he continued to eat your out through your orgasm, so he wasn't shocked at how you quickly lifted yourself as your body twitched. "F-Fuck..." He gasped a little with a look of satisfaction on his wet face, your juices trail down his face and as you struggle to hold yourself up, you leaned down and licked up the arousal from his neck to his mouth. "You did such a good job," You weakly smiled and once again you lower your body and line his cock up with your now throbbing hole, "Are you ready for me pretty boy?" He nodded and bit his lip.

#shinee imagines #shinee scenarios #shinee smut #kpop smut #lee taemin smut #shinee hard hours #taemin smut #superm smut #superm taemin #shinee taemin #superm imagines #taemin x reader #shinee x reader #kpop x reader #poc writer #taemin imagine #taemin scenario #sub!idol #dom!reader #sub!taemin #shinee fanfic #taemin fanfic #lee taemin #taemin shinee #smut #x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines

[italeean]

Endurance training

You can find the plot here

A/N: Hiiiii!! Guys you have NO IDEA of how excited I am for this fic... like, an x reader??? WITH MY HUSBAND?!!!! Anon, chiunque tu sia, ti amo 💚🤍❤️ (Anon, whoever you are, I love you). I hope you all enjoy this work, suggestions and support are always appreciated 🌸 Happy July everyone!!

DISCLAIMER: This is a tickle fic, if it's not to your taste, I don't suggest you read it

Every day just felt the same: waking up at 4 AM, going on a run, shower, light breakfast, training, lunch, more training, dinner and sleep. That was the merciless routine y/n has had ever since they decided to join the Fatui ranks as a recruit. And the worst part was him.

Tartaglia, Childe, the 11th Harbinger and also their direct superior. He was the Harbinger responsible for their training, and y/n was destined to be one of his soldiers, under his command. If they wanted to have a future as something more than a simple soldier, they needed to make themselves known, they needed to be bold and daring if they wanted to impress him.

But how do you impress someone who's so fearless and self-confident that he fights with the weapon he has most trouble using?! (And he's also a pro at it)

The answer was completely unknown to them. They just knew they needed to make him notice them and see their potential. Because they had potential... right..? There was no time to be insecure, they had the skills and the desire to learn and reach higher and higher goals.

That's why they trained almost to exhaustion, paying attention not to burn themselves out to avoid missing out on important training session just because their body was too strained to even get up, and eventually their work paid off because the Harbinger decided to follow their progress with special attention, which included private combat lessons after the regular training with all the other recruits.

The two of them got closer with time, and y/n slowly got used to Childe's reckless and sometimes flirty personality. He was brilliant when it came to combat skills, although he had some lacunae in the topic of strategizing, but they saw him as a model anyway, and they strived to impress him.

However, they felt like they lacked something in their style. Their shape was perfect, their movements were fluid, their reflexes were quick... and still, the Harbinger always took them down in any kind of combat with any kind of weapon without even breaking a sweat during their training sessions.

"You're too rigid," He always told her "you should try to have more fun. Be bold, unpredictable. You're always on the defensive so your style gets predictable in the long run." Those words stung a little, but y/n knew he was right... they had to be more daring, even at the cost of making mistakes.

They quickly got up and charged at the Harbinger with the intent of tackling him to the ground... only to find their hands blocked before they could even register what was happening.

Childe was standing in front of them with his usual smug smile. "That's already much better, although we'll need to work on your speed. Now, if you manage to grab your opponents hands like I did with you, you have many possibilities." He got both y/n's hands into one of his own, "Like a headbutt, a kick to make the opponent fall and bring the fight to the ground, or you can assess a punch to the stomach, right here..."

His free hand darted to the mentee's belly to show them the exact spot to hit... but when he poked the area, he was surprised by the startled yelp that left y/n's lips. "Oh? Is there something wrong? Did it hurt? It wasn't supposed to hurt... did you strain a muscle? You've been doing the stretching routine I gave you, right?" He looked at them with a worried but stern look on his face as he let go of their hands.

"Of course I did!" Y/n replied quickly "It didn't actually hurt... it just... umm... startled me! Anyway... I'm starting to feel fatigued now, I think it's better to do the stretching and wrap things up here for today..."

Childe nodded and smiled "It's good that you're learning to understand the signals of your body, it can save your life in battle... unless you're me, in that case, fatigue isn't a thing for me." He boasted playfully and started to leave, letting y/n do the stretching on their own. Y/n breathed a sigh of relief... luckily he had bought her excuse.

'Who do they think they're kidding?' Tartaglia thought to himself. And he was right, who did they think they were kidding? He was a big brother, he could detect a lie from a mile, especially when it came to being ticklish.

The following day, the morning training went as usual, but when they headed to the training arena in the evening, a little surprise awaited them. The Harbinger was standing there with a mischievous, almost ominous smirk on his face.

"Today we'll have a special training session to improve your stamina and strength." He began "It's very effective, and I can guarantee you that you'll feel loosened up after I'm done wi- I mean, after we're done." He chuckled, cooing internally at y/n's confused expression.

He gave them a wooden stick, "You'll have to keep it raised above your head for as long as you can." He told them. The instructions were simple enough, and the mentee did immediately as they were told, although they found that training unexpectedly easy... almost excessively simple.

"Umm... shall we pass to something heavier..?" They asked perplexed after a couple of minutes. "Don't be cocky now, you're about to find out how hard this exercise can get..." He got closer to them, cracking his knuckles.

Y/n gulped at the thought of what was about to happen, because they didn't know. Probably not even the Tsartitsa herself knew how ruthless the training to become a Fatuus could get. They had to keep their guard high, be ready for the worst...

But they weren't ready for the storm of pokes that descended on their torso, making them yelp and squirm and jump left and right. "Wha- aaaahhehehehe w-whahat are yohou doiiing???" "Oh can't you tell by yourself? I'm tickling you!! I'm sure it has happened to you before! Now you better keep that stick up~" He teased as his hands went to town all over their poor tummy, toned by all those days of training.

"Hahahahaha h-hohohow dihihid yohou-"

"How did I know? Dear, I'm an older brother... did you really thought you had fooled me with your little act and your little excuse?" He chuckled as he poked y/n's abs and pinched their sides. "Now, don't you think you deserve this also as a punishment for lying to me, your superior AND your dear mentor?"

"Nooooohohoho thihihis ihihisn't fahahahair!!" The mentee complained as they succumbed to the giggles.

"This is endurance training, it isn't supposed to be fair. Now gather up and endure, that stick is shaking too much." He latched onto their ribs with both hands, enjoying the shriek that left y/n's lips as he played with their ribcage as if it was a piano.

"GAHAHAHAHAHAHA STOHOHOP IT!!" Y/n yelled on top of their lungs as their sensitive ribs were playfully tormented. "Or else what? I should remind you that I'm the one in charge here, so you're in no position to bark orders." The redhead replied with his usual amount of wit and sass as he kept having fun with his mentee's ribs.

Poor y/n could feel their legs shaking, but they did their best to fight the urge to curl over themselves... with scarce results apparently, because Tartaglia corrected them. "Your posture is incorrect, I'm gonna have to correct you, I suppose..."

And by 'correct' he meant scribbling all over their back and watch them yelp and arch it into a more correct position. "That's what I'm talking about... and I gotta admit that you're lasting surprisingly long given how much you're laughing and squirming... I guess I'll have to go for the kill..."

As he said that, his hands shot up to y/n's underarms, delicately scratching the skin with all his 10 fingers. "WAAAAHAHAHAEHEHEHEHE NOHOHOHOHO PLEHEAHAHAHSE!!" The trainee couldn't handle it anymore and let go of the stick as their knees gave out and they crumbled to the ground, trying to curl up in a ball as those devious, nimble fingers followed every single movement of theirs.

"IHIHIHI GIHIHIHIVEHEHE!! IHIHI GIVEHEHEHEHEHE UHUHUHUHUP!!!" They scream-laughed desperately when the tickling got too much to handle, and were relieved that the Harbinger decided to be merciful and stop the tickling.

After they recovered from that merciless attack (yes, he recognized he'd been a little merciless), he looked at them still with his smug face. "Well? What do you think about this endurance training?"

"Endurance training?! You call this torture a training session?!" They exclaimed in embarrassment, which made him snicker. "I think you should endure a little bit of punishment for lying to me about your ticklishness..." He slowly approached them again.

"I loved this training session!!" Y/n quickly replied with a terrified smile. Maybe (MAYBE) they had fun, but going through all of that again was really too much. "See? That's what I'm talking about!" He chirped, "I bet you're much more relaxed and laid back after laughing so much... but you're right, this was no training. I just wanted to have my fun while loosening you up."

"You WHAT?!" The poor mentee exclaimed completely astonished. "Aaaww are you gonna pretend you didn't like this even a little? Fine, I guess... get up and get your revenge!"

Y/n quickly got up and charged at their mentor, determined to take him down and 'make him pay'.

They never managed to get their revenge... on the contrary, they got wrecked again, but Childe also told them that he'd never seen them fight so well, without the usual rigidity. That 'endurance training' had really managed to loosen them up.

#genshin impact tickle #genshin tickle #lee!reader #ler!childe #ler!tartaglia #ler!ajax #tickle fic #ticklish!reader #LER CHILDE LER CHILDE LER CHILDE 😻😻😻😻 #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH-

[fuck-customers]

99% of the time, having radios at work is irritating, but the 1% when it's beneficial + I get to be petty makes it worth it.

Was cutting fabric for a customer and when I measured out to the amount that she wanted, I noticed there was stains on that section of fabric, so I told the customer what her options were. (Ideally, I'd wait on cutting off the damage part, because some customers don't mind a small stain or tear here and there and the discount is worth it to them + it's less work for me to not have to damage it out)

"There's damage to the fabric here. I can either cut you this piece and give you a damage discount on top of it, or I can cut you another piece that isn't damaged. Do you have a preference?"

"Just give it to me for free!"

? "Sorry, I can't do that, I can give you a discount, but I can't give you free product."

"Why not? Just give it to me!"

"Well...this is a store and stores charge money in exchange for products. I can't just give you a product for free, I'll get fired." (I probably could've gotten away with giving her the free fabric, but at this point, I don't want to backtrack and I'm stubborn and want to stand my ground and I get paid to be there either way)

"Well, ask your manager!" (Ok you stupid fucking Karen)

Over radio with no headset, so the customer could clearly hear my manager's response, I even moved the radio closer to her so she could hear. "I know the answer already, but just to confirm, we cannot give fabric away for free, correct? Even if it is damaged, we can only give a damaged discount, correct?"

Manager: "Um, YES, that's CORRECT. We can't give fabric away for free. They must pay for it."

Now the Karen is pissed off. "Was that the manager? Call her over!!"

🙄 Whatever. Call the manager over just to have the manager tell her the exact same thing I've been telling her for 10 minutes and that she herself said over radio.

Me, standing next to the manager: 😘💅

Posted by admin Rodney.

[jo-harrington]

Pinprick (A Gutterballs Story)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Jo!Reader

Summary: You're sitting down to listen to one of your favorite podcasts when you hear your name as one of a long line of Eddie's loves, and you have a moment of reflection.

Note: This is a very very very late post in dedication to one of my fandom loves @dr-aculaaa (who is very much on hiatus but still deserves all of the love us resident weirdos have to give) and not only one of my favorite fics Sunday Morning but the offshoot she made for Valentine's Day: Gutterballs.

IT STARTS OUT SWEET BUT ITS A LITTLE ANGSTY AT THE END. SORRY DRAC. WE SORT OF TALKED ABOUT THIS. THE TIMELINE.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

You're sitting on the floor.

To be completely honest, you shouldn't be on the floor. You knew that, your doctor knew that, your team knew that. In fact, they yelled at you when you got down there, legs akimbo in a way that was comfortable for you to sit in but uncomfortable for them to look at, so you could start ripping the sleeves off of this fucking jacket.

You're alone in the studio now, hours after everyone left.

It's just you, a bottle of Tums, your favorite fucking jacket, and the dulcet tones of the man who gave it to you coming from your phone.

“Welcome back to another episode of Gutterballs! My name is Eddie Munson..."

As if he had to introduce himself.

"Nerd," you scoffed fondly.

It's your Wednesday night ritual. Well, not the jacket or the floor or the tums...Gutterballs. At the least, you owed it to your former client; at the most, you owed it to your ex.

And Eddie Munson was both of those things.

Although "ex" is a relative term.

An ex wouldn't still send you a gift basket full of goodies every award season when you barely took care of yourself, the way Eddie did for you.

An ex wouldn't shoot an email with wardrobe recommendations when they hear about some charity concert or something, like you did for Eddie and Corroded Coffin.

Still telling me what to wear Jo?

He would email back almost immediately.

Doesn't seem like anyone else is. I saw you at Lolla Ed. Not cute.

Would be your response.

You don't think I'm cute anymore?

That would go unanswered though.

Until next time.

Because you were exes.

But an ex didn't keep the jacket their ex got them because it was their favorite. Exes didn't take apart said favorite jacket because it got a rip in the sleeve, and then plan to just cut two new sleeves for it. Nor did they spend the last 20-ish years mending the jacket that their ex-slash-former-client got them as an apology for a spontaneous kiss before a red carpet.

---

The CFCA awards ceremony wasn't the band's usual haunt but they had composing credits for a film score that was up for nomination. It was a big deal. Something that would take them to a new caliber of their career; not just rowdy rockstars, but well-rounded musicians.

So of course, they were running late.

Their suits all needed a bit of alteration, Eddie was chattering nervously as you hemmed his pants, Gareth drummed a beat on his leg with two of the hangers from your roll rack and Phil, the band's manager, yelling for you all to get a move on.

"Do you want them to look good or not!" You yelled right back. "I'm not having them go up for their award looking like shit Phil!"

"Yeah remember the Grammy's," Jeff pointed out. "That's why you got us a stylist in the first place."

"You'd have thought you paid them to be here or something," Phil grumbled at you from across the room.

"I do pay," you shot up at Eddie with a conspiratorial smile. "With my sanity."

This was your schtick. He let you dress him in whatever dark-romantic victorian-gothic-inspired outfits your former-Catholic heart could dream up, and in return you let him be the spieling midwestern boy that he really wasn't allowed to be anywhere else. Because yeah the band was in charge here really--they were the talent, the money--but Eddie didn't like the whole pomp and circumstance of celebrity. Not anymore, according to him at least.

"The drugs are fun until they're not," he told you once. "We're just...guys from Indiana."

So you'd let them be that in the safety of your studio, shithead manager be damned.

You severed the thread with a swift bite of your teeth and wished the guys good luck with hugs before sending them on their way.

But Eddie...Eddie chose that moment to kiss you.

Well, you kissed each other.

As everyone walked out of the studio to get down to the car, you kissed each other.

And you froze.

Both of you.

Because it was a romantic, world-ending kiss. A kiss of declaration. A kiss of familiarity. The kiss you gave someone when you loved them for a long time and didn't know how to tell them.

Only...you hadn't loved each other for a long time.

Had you?

Hadn't said anything of the sort at least.

That wasn't love...was it?

He left for the awards ceremony and you absolutely spiraled questioning it all. You thought about all the long walks down State Street discussing ideas for this event and that one. The way he got you a membership to the Art Institute so you could sit in front of Salome and Hercules for hours and be inspired. The nights that he just couldn't work on lyrics anymore, so he would come over to sit in absolute silence save for the droning sound of your sewing machine.

The aches of the world were just a little bit easier when you could be near each other, whether it was being inspired or talking shit or sinking further into oblivion.

Was that love?

Eddie must have spiraled too. Because he showed up at your studio past midnight, disheveled and with a green Marshall Field's bag in his hand. A bag containing, you'd find out later, a black wool and leather coat that sat in a window that you'd noted looked nice months ago. One he made the guys make a special stop for before the award ceremony so he could get you to make up for fucking up your professional relationship.

The apologies were stuck on the tips of your tongues though.

And there was a beat before some silent decision was made.

And your lips came back together again, solidifying that decision, even though the words weren't said.

---

“Today on Gutterballs,” Mrs. H’s announces on the phone, breaking you from your reflection, “our lovely listeners at home are in for a real treat. As we record and discuss topics such as first loves, lost loves, and, as you can see, from our current location -body modifications."

“First we have… A spool and thread for Jo."

"She used to poke my ankles like a voodoo doll when she hemmed my pants. I still have the scars, if you wanna check ‘em out. I think that was her way of saying I love you."

Yeah that was the way it was with the two of you.

All the ways you said I love you without the words being said.

And they would never be said.

But that was another story.

"Yeah," you agree with Mrs. H belatedly, seam ripper making quick work of a line of stitches. "Lost love sounds better than ex."

#eddie munson x reader #gutterballs #drac <3

[tu-sugar-mami]

Hi! I'm wondering if you can write how Alcina would react if she found her dobbelgänger? Someone who looks Identical to her and it would probably be one of her maidens. People probably gossip about it too. I want to see Y/N's reaction to it too so like maybe they are together and they see a maiden pass by who looks exactly like Alcina. Lipstick and everything.

(I didn't see any other requests like this so I said why not request this one cause the idea is so interesting)

-Milkie

Hii!! Thank you so much for sending this 🥰 This sounds interesting, yes! I don't think I've read anything like it before and it's an honour you thought of me for this  ✨✨✨ sorry it took me so long, I got carried away and then didn't know how to finish it 😅 although, I don't really know of this is what you had in mind but I went a bit angsty there. Hope you like it! 💖💖

Words: 1800

Tags: angst, a bit of humour, implied feelings, sad stuff, kinds good ending?

_________________________________________

Being Lady Dimitrescu's personal maid is no easy job, especially since the responsibility of bringing her every wish and/or demand could become slightly complicated. There's only so much you can do with your short legs scurrying around in such a grand castle. 

Despite being almost always busy, you do find some time to enjoy a cup or two of that sweet tea you love so much, and love it even more when you share it with your Lady. 

Climbing up the stairs you somehow manage to balance a tray with the needed assortment of ceramics with a teapot full of very hot water on one hand and a quite heavy stack of important documents on the other. Your focus is split between not dropping the platter and reading the stack of papers in your hands trying to find the listing error in the first page (a job usually reserved for one of the daughters) and you find yourself so enthralled by the task that it's only when you reach the hallway that your focus is interrupted by an approaching figure.

Without raising your gaze from the documents, the corner of your eye catches a glimpse of a familiar face. A smile blossoms in your lips at the passing woman, but confusion settles in you. You're sure the Lady is in her study at this time of the day, but you pay it no mind, surely she has a reason to leave her sacred workspace. 

Turning to the left, you ask for a miracle to help you open the door while your hands are occupied. Luckily, being crafty and resourceful was a requirement in the job description, and with a push of your elbow onto the doorknob you enter the Lady's office.

"Oh, there you are. I need those papers transcribed here."

The voice brings you to a halt as your brain catches on. Wait, didn't the Lady just pass by you at the hall? No, surely you're mistaken… 

Quickly turning towards the hall, half of your body peeking out of the still open door, your eyes inspect the now empty hallway in search of an explanation. 

Now that you recall it, the woman in the hallway was strangely at eye level, unlike your Lady, so perhaps she was only a maid you just didn't see correctly.

Well, it's been some stressful days lately, and you suppose your mind is tired. 

Deciding to think nothing of it, you pour the Lady some tea and prepare yourself for the upcoming ache in your hands (the typewriter makes the job easier, but doesn't mean it's less tedious).

It's around late afternoon when you and The Lady find yourselves strolling through the halls in an attempt to dissipate the headache that the stress has caused on the Matriarch. It's also around that late afternoon that you stumble upon her…

A few moments pass by before you do a double take and your hand shoots towards your Lady's skirt in order to stop her from walking away. 

Alcina isn't thrilled, and if it was any other maid she would have already have them paid for their transgression, but as it's almost a custom now, she only rolls her eyes and turns to see what has you so busy that you can't even speak to properly ask her to sto–

As soon as Alcina turns she sees the reason. She sees her.

An exact copy of the great Lady Dimitrescu is busy dusting one of the giant flower pots in the hall.

She is identical, in every way but the height and skin. How did you not notice her before? You're pretty sure you would have seen the close resemblance right away, unless… The daughters are always the ones in charge of 'welcoming' the new batches of maids that come in every month or so, and knowing them, they don't dwell in appearances unless they find one of the morsels to be especially interesting. Perhaps that's why such a sight slipped right by you. 

You wouldn't believe it if the maid wasn't standing right in front of you. 

She had the same high cheekbones and soft jaw as your Lady, that much is evident, but what catches your attention the most is her eyes. That unique and familiar gaze that brings you comfort and reassurance is present in the maid. She looks younger than the Lady for quite a few years, although you wouldn't be able to pinpoint exactly how many apart. Still, the resemblance is unique, more like a copy rather than an offspring. It seems impossible and yet…

You look to your left in a quick movement, ready to go back and forward only wanting to compare and see for yourself that your mind isn't playing tricks on you, but you stop as soon as you notice your Lady's face.

Alcina's expression is a shocked one, more than you've ever seen her bear before, but you notice something else within that stare. Her eyes become slightly teary, but despite your efforts you can't decipher what the meaning of the unshed tears is. 

And of course, you can't possibly know the turmoil that brews inside her. 

Right in front of Alcina stands the woman she once was, or more like the one she could have been. A version of her without her humanity stripped away, without the marks of betrayal and hurt, without the lines of experimentations and pain. In front of Alcina stands the woman she once saw in the mirror, like a cruel joke, in all her human fragility and ignorance. Almost as if the universe had one last way to mess with her and mock her.

Within Alcina aches the desire to touch, to feel, to have a close glimpse of what she was before, and yet the unspoken fear of the mirage before her disappearing keeps her hand grounded, and with it her body stays unmoving.

The Lady hears, among other drowning sounds, the judging whispers surrounding you three in the hall. Words from the maids that have huddled up at the corner, watching with harpy eyes the scene unfolding in their unwelcome presence. 

For the first time in years, perhaps decades, Alcina Dimitrescu is at a loss of words. She would have never thought that an image of herself would make her feel so vulnerable, so threatened. And perhaps also for the first time, the powerful Matriarch feels…powerless.

Until your touch on her gloved hand brings her back from her stupor, that is, effectively stopping her from spiraling any further. Your hand, tiny in comparison to hers, is the anchor she needs right now. 

Alcina turns to you, and what she finds in your eyes as you look up at her is nothing but pure adoration, as if you have already decided that she is perfect just as she is right now. Almost as if you've just chosen her out of the other more humane and better versions of herself in front of you and the ones to ever exist. The love and affection that had been so obvious to her before but you always put effort in keeping hidden is now shining through, unstopped and undimmed, and Alcina's unbeating heart for a moment feels full of life again.

 

With your hand now in her gentle grasp, she feels like she can breathe again, and with the newfound strength she dares to invite the maid for a chat over tea.

When the moon is already starting to show her presence above in the skies, after some surprisingly nice talk, something across the coffee table catches Alcina's attention.

Alcina only needs to see the mischievous grin on your lips once to feel another incoming headache. You've been her maid for five years already for goodness' sake, she already knows exactly what you're thinking…

…

…..

The Lady doesn't know how you managed to convince her to do this, but she's waiting with you hidden behind a stone pillar just after summoning her daughters 'urgently'. 

It's not long before three buzzing swarms approach, but instead of her mother waiting they find a woman facing away from them sitting on their mother's usual chair. 

Daniela confusedly sniffs the air, and she finds that her mom's perfume comes from the same direction as the woman, but she can also smell the blood pumping and a heart beating. 

"Who are you?" The youngest asks with her hand already reaching for her sickle. 

"Ah, my daughters! I didn't see you there, lovelies." The maid greets with a higher pitch voice, before turning to the girls. You have to give her some credit, it would be impossible for you to not laugh if you were in her place. "Come here my girls, mama has missed you." 

"Mother!?" Bela and Cassandra ask in unison. Her eyes are wide and they're switching their gaze from the woman to each other. 

Behind the pillar you watch the scene unfold, and your Lady's hand soon covers your mouth to prevent you from letting out a chuckle, although when you look up you can see an amused smile on her lips. 

"What happened?" Daniela asks, gesturing wildly at the woman's body. "You look, good? Less tired maybe, a little tiny bit uh…less um… like this?" She raises her hand above her head and shakes her hand slightly.

"Holy Mother Miranda, is that really you Mama?" Cassandra asks, slowly approaching the maid. 

Alcina lets out a silent chuckle and with a stealth you didn't know her capable of, sneaks behind Daniela, the closest daughter.

"She is most certainly not, darling." 

Not unlike a cat, Daniela screams and jumps almost two meters before dissipating in a cloud of flies, before reforming next to Cassandra, her hand pleases over her chest, and if her heart could still beat it would be frantically hammering against her ribcage.

"Holy sh-"

"Daniela, language!" Bela nudges her sister with her shoulder. 

Your laugh resonates in the room, and Alcina briefly looks at you, her eyes as soft as her smile, before returning to the girls. 

"I can't believe they really fell for it." You walk towards the maid and put a relaxed hand on her shoulder. "Sorry we made you do this, let's go get some lemonade girl, you look a bit pale."

After you leave with the maid in tow, Alcina takes her rightful seat and pours herself a cup of wine.

"How come no one bothered to let me know of this guest? I should hope next time you do take time to greet every new maid properly, girls."  

"We will, Mother." Bela says, taking a step forward from her sisters. 

"I know you will." Alcina says gesturing away with her hand, and after her beloved daughters leave, she's left again to ponder about how just much she fucked up by accepting Miranda's gift…

_________________________________________

You can find the rest of my stories in AO3 as Lenchisus

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#request #ask #my fic #re8 #alcina dimitrescu angst #alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x female reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x female reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #resident evil village

[trentsixtysix]

Trent Alexander-Arnold x reader. You and him went through a messy breakup straight before a big game and Robbo notices trents not himself and half way through the game he breaks down in front of millions and gets embarrassed about it and ends up crying on Robbo. Then trent then trys to speak to you about how he wants you back the next day at training ❤

Bad Timing

Summary: One too many disagreements pushes you and Trent over the edge right before an important match, leaving you to watch the after effects along with everyone else.

WARNINGS: Swearing, sad Trent, mentions of light smut at the end.

DISCLAIMER: Sorry this took ages! (Also this video of trentski is so cute 🥺)

Word Count: 2.3k

Angst, Fluff

‘Just try your best, yeah?' You encouraged, both of you in the empty changing room pre match, the rest of the players waiting around in another room before it was time to head to the tunnel.

'Do I normally not try my best or something?' He shot back, watching you with his dark eyes, as you struggled to find a response.

'That's not what I meant, I'm just saying to focus on what we talked about.' You explained, placing your hands on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

He was visibly frustrated, nervous and understandably so; it was the semi final of the Champions League, and being Liverpool's and your boyfriend's biggest fan, you were hoping for a win.

'That's fucking great, my own girlfriend thinks I'm shit too.' He sighed, shrugging your hands off of him dramatically, with there still being another 45 minutes until the match started.

'I literally never said that Trent, why do you have to put words in my mouth?' You argued, even though you knew you shouldn't; and knew you should ignore him and be cheering him on right now as this was just his nerves talking, not him.

'You know I'm starting to think you want me to do shit, why are you whining at me before the match?' He questioned, apprehensively, shaking his head at you to answer his question when you went silent.

You couldn't believe your ears, especially after how much you'd helped him so far this season. You were the one who sat in the stands and cheered him on for every game possible, who was there with open arms when he won and lost, who publicly defended him and comforted him when people criticised him, restoring his faith in himself as you helped him to improve and train more. It must've paid off as he was in the semi-final, which is why it cut for him to disregard you like this.

'Don't make that face Y/n, you heard what I said.' He scoffed, noticing your solemn expression, placing his hand on his forehead exhaustedly.

'You really think I want the worst for you?' You asked, voice starting to crack, but you managed to hold it together.

'I don't know maybe? I don't fucking know at all anymore, just please stop with the bullshit you always feed me, we both know it's not true.' He snapped, sighing once again.

'Wow..' You said, in shock, mouth agape at his outburst, having no idea he felt that way about the way you consoled him.

'What a prick you are, where has this ego come from? Come back down to reality Trent.' You demanded, still shocked at what he was coming out with.

'Just get out Y/n.' He mumbled, making you wonder if you'd heard him correctly.

'What?' You asked, for confirmation.

'You just stress me out..now go.' He commanded, making you step back as you were uncomfy, not sure who this new guy was and what he'd done to your boyfriend.

'I'll go. But I can't say I'm coming back.' You revealed, grabbing your bag off of one of the pegs behind him.

'Come on Y/n, grow up.' He said.

'You dont think you stress me out? I have to rely on how a fucking game went to see if my boyfriend will speak to me that day or not.'

'I'm walking on eggshells around you recently....I can't do this anymore. I'm done.' You blabbered, tearing up slightly.

'Done that easily? Were you even here for me in the first place then?' He started.

'Make life easier for yourself and leave me be.' He retorted, head in his hands as you left the room hurriedly, being faced with Robbo as soon as you entered the corridor.

'Y/n?' Asked Robbo, displaying a confused face as he saw you crying, too slow as you'd already stormed past, leaving him to instead enter the changing room to talk to Trent, wondering what had happened.

Even though you said you would, you didn't leave. You stayed for the game, sitting in Andy's box instead with his wife, who you didn't tell much to, not wanting Trent to look bad infront of others, but due to the way you had broke it off with him inside, you were preparing yourself for his performance, hoping your argument wouldn't have a toll on it.

The first half of the game went ok, you guys were winning 1-0, with the assist from Trent to make you feel better - you always wanted the best for him - but the second half was poor; the defence was becoming more and more sloppy, leading Trent to pull out all the stops to prevent the opposition from scoring, so much so that he had retorted to tackling a player so harshly they both fell to the ground.

You were shocked at his rough play, along with everyone else in the crowd who witnessed a switch flip in Trent, overcome with anger that he retaliated to the other player, both of them violently pushing each other across the pitch, only stopping when the other players got involved and they both got booked for it.

You him stood holding his abdomen, moaning lightly in pain before turning to Hendo and holding him in a strong embrace whilst the medics made their way over to him, sobbing in his ear as he comforted him, not sure if he was crying out of frustration or of pain.

It was safe to say everyone in the stadium was shocked, not used to him being so emotive, assuming he must be really injured and taken off to rest, leading you to make dead eye contact with him sat glum on the benches, dreading the bullying and comments he'd have to see about him later on tonight online.

Liverpool ended up winning the match 2-0, bringing them through to face the awaiting opposition in the final, and you could finally leave in peace knowing you weren't responsible for a potential loss, but his outburst was another story, one that you knew you were possibly accountable for.

You ended up staying the night at a friends, deciding you'd have to go and collect your stuff the next day after having a forced chat with him about how you meant it for good, and how his words hurt you so much that you couldn't stand him at the moment.

You got to hers late, and went to sleep even later, eventually waking up at around 1pm-ish after an embarrassingly long lie in, deciding you'd use your key to get your things sorted before Trent got home, aware he was at training for the moment.

You sneakily drove back to your house, which you were adamant wouldn't be your house anymore, and saw his car sitting in the driveway, along with Andy's. You walked in to see if anyone was there, spotting the pair of them sat at the dinner table, quietly talking.

You locked eyes with Trent again, annoyed because you were now avoiding a confrontation with him, only wanting to get in and out with your stuff as quickly as possible, having assumed he was at training.

'Y/n?' Called Andy, as you hurriedly tread upstairs, rushing to your's and Trent's shared bedroom, turning around to see Andy following you.

'Y/n wait a moment! You don't wanna talk to him fair enough, but talk to me.' He pleaded, making you feel a bit more at ease as he was always like a big brother to you and Trent, the two of you admiring the way he cared for you guys.

'Aren't you both supposed to be at training?' You asked, fetching your things to make a suitcase.

'Training was early morning..Would you stop that?' He responded, watching you lazily stuff a suitcase with your hoodies, noticing you stopped in your tracks when you packed one of Trent's, glaring at it before taking it back out of your case and dumping it on the floor.

'What do you need to say Andy? If only you knew how he spoke to me last night.' You said, over the conversation already.

'He's told me everything Y/n, and he's a right idiot. But believe me when I say he cried his heart out to me, not only on that pitch yesterday but today.'

'He regrets it so much.' Disclosed Andy, making you take a moment to process everything.

'Look at the hate he gets online, he needs you right now, even if he's going and saying the daftest things.' He continued, and you were starting to feel bad for shutting Trent down so fast, not even taking a moment to consider the amount of insecurity and self-doubt he was experiencing.

'I have always been there for him. He has no right to keep treating me like this Robbo.' You sighed, fighting back tears.

He pulled you in for a hug, rocking you side to side as he knew it always pissed you off when he did that, making you laugh forcefully and wipe your tears.

'All I'm saying is please rethink your decision? He loves you, you were the only thing on his mind at training today.' He said, one last time before leaving the room, and you watched as you could see Trent waiting out in the hallway, suddenly getting closer to lean on the doorframe.

You froze when you noticed him staring at you, putting the suitcase down for a moment and crossing your arms as Andy had already made his way downstairs, leaving just you and Trent.

'Y/n, can we talk?' He mumbled, his voice quiet and by the sound of it you could tell he had been crying previously, emotional, and you could see it in his eyes too.

'I have treated you terribly, and you've been the only person there for me... I know it's not an excuse but I genuinely think I lost the plot last night.' He started, leaving you stood waiting for him to continue, his words not sufficient enough yet.

'I am so sorry Y/n, my best girl. Please don't go, I couldn't handle it if you left.' He pleaded, covering his face in embarrassment, and you knew he was being genuine because he was fighting back his tears, tears that you rarely saw because he'd been so emotionless recently, so different.

You didn't wanna give in, but instinctively you walked over to him, taking his hands off of his face, watching him cry for a brief moment before pulling him into an embrace, not even wanting him to say another word because he had already shown you him being the most vulnerable he could be, showing you he was truly sorry and telling the truth.

'Shh, it's okay. Just forget it yeah?' You said, taking his face in your hands for him to console him, him hugging you harder, deciding you'd properly talk about it some other time, only wanting to calm him down and be good for the moment.

'I love you.' He said.

'Please don't go anywhere, please stay with me.' Begged Trent.

'Trent, I'm not going anywhere.' You reassured, smiling softly to ease the atmosphere.

------

Days had gone by and you and Trent were in a way better position, his injury was nothing serious with only slight bruising, clearing him for the next game and you'd noticed he was making way more of an effort with you; dinner, presents, saying I love you more frequently, massages, and appreciating you more verbally. The two of you were communicating way better, and you were providing your best support for him before the final soon.

Even though things were seemingly well, you couldn't help but dwell on what he'd said to you previously, replaying it in your mind, trying to make some sense of where it came from, wondering if he thought there was any truth to it.

'You know I'm starting to think you want me to do shit.'

'Trent?' You called, whilst massaging his head as he watched another episode of a boring sitcom you'd rewatched countless amounts of times. Always finding it hilarious when it would make him laugh or shocked, as he had memorised the entire show and already knew what was going to happen next.

'Yeah baby?' He called.

'I'm sorry for bringing this up..' You started, as he patiently waited for you to continue.

'Did you really think I wanted you to perform bad in matches?' You asked, watching his expression change, becoming sad as he didn't realise he had said that to you, and didn't realise it was still on your mind.

'Being 100% honest, no. I don't know why I said that Y/n...I was just trying to hurt you in the moment I guess.

'Please don't dwell on that, I wasn't thinking with my head that entire night, I know you only want the best for me.' He explained, leaning closer to kiss you, which you welcomed.

'You know..I didn't know you had a temper in you like that babe.' You admitted, your mood suddenly changing as you were reminiscing how he almost broke that poor winger's body the other week.

'Me neither babe, won't happen again.' He apologised, sarcastically.

'Oh?' You asked, staring at his lips, watching him bite them nervously.

'Oh?' He responded, not sure what you were getting at.

'You could always save that for other scenarios, no?' You smirked, making him blush.

'Yeah? Like what?' He questioned, furrowing his brows, stopping his cheeky smile from peeking through.

'I can think of some..' You responded, slowly leaning in to kiss him, leaving him frustrated when you finally backed away.

He leaned in to kiss you again, causing you to chuckle before he flipped you onto his lap, making you straddle him as he deepened the kiss.

'You're so beautiful, you'll actually be the death of me.' He sighed, running his fingers through your hair.

'Oh?' You challenged, making him laugh.

'Oh!' He confirmed, enthusiastically, before gesturing for you to take your top off..

#trent imagine #trent x reader #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold angst #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold fluff #footballer x reader #football imagines #footballer imagine #footballer imagines #trent alexander arnold

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

Tumblr Coming in Clutch

With the "Based on your likes" again. And by coming in clutch, I mean sending me commie garbage.

I could rant on this for hrs but I'll stick to the shorter version.

Most people that are homeless want to be homeless.

Those that don't want to be homeless fall under 2 categories (People who fell on bad times, and people who are mentally unwell.)

Where does the labor come from to build all these houses?

Assuming we use existing homes (or build new ones), who's to stop the homeless from destroying the home and turning it into a trap house? Who's to stop them from stripping the house for all it's parts and selling it for drug money?

What are you planning to tell people on hard times who are still working to make ends meet? "Just be homeless because then the gov will be forced to provide a home for you"?

Where then does the incentive come in for people to go back to work if they are just HANDED the fruits of someone else's labor.

Do you have ANY IDEA how much money it takes to buy a house in order to rent it out?

And then not just number 7, but also do you not realize how sheltered you are from changes in the market sometimes by being under a landlord? I had a one bedroom apartment with kitchen, bathroom, large Livingroom. For my rent, water, electricity, and trash services, I paid 600$ a month. Gas station around the corner, and 5 min or less from a Walmart. And so long as I was not using WAY MORE than average of the water or electricity, I would not be expected to pay more than that set amount.

Fact is, not just that, but if you own a place, YOU have to pay for the repairs when something isn't working. When you are renting a place, one of the perks is that so long as it's part of the property, and you were not the DIRECT cause of the damage, the landlord has a responsibility to replace it. Hell, if you are renting a home in an area with an HOA, often times the Landlord will deal with the HOA on your behalf. Also, there are often legal things that go into property ownership that people are protected from to some degree by renting.

And it's not a some rich person scheme to keep people out of homes either. THEY worked to get the money they needed to get their properties. And they often lose more than they make depending on the condition of the place they are renting out. And they have to make sure that they bring in tenants that will not destroy their property.

Are some landlords assholes? Yes. Are some landlords just soulless corporations that appoint someone to oversee a property? Yes. Is that MOST of rentals in the US? Absolutely not. And yes. Being a landlord is a job. Because there is legal paperwork, repair bills, you have to still manage the property, IE: lawn care, electrician work, pest control, etc, etc. It's a job where if you are in it alone, and you own very few properties, and you DON'T have an LLC to help you run things, then you are on call 24/7 more or less. Especially if you own an apartment complex. Then you are responsible for the management of every single part of your property. Up to and including any injuries, or other forms of legal liability.

AGAIN. I'm not saying there are NOT shitty landlords out there. But most really are not. And often they do/will want to work with you to help you out when you are having a rough go of it. But they have to pay property taxes and bills the same as everyone else. And they do it on your behalf because you don't own the property. Because if you did? GOOD F*CKING LUCK getting the city you live in to actually cut you a break.

*Addition to this post* Adding to number 4. Where's the money going to come from to buy these houses as well? Because people OWN them. Unless you are just advocating for the FEDERAL GOVERNMENT to confiscate houses. Which is NOT a slippery slope. It's a cliff. Also a great way to make inflation go up while your at it.

#discourse