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soapskneebrace · 1 year

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a break in the narrative

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Rating: Mature (there are some suggestive themes but nothing explicit) Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: Descriptions of a man's nude upper body, smoking, overuse of italics as per usual Author's Notes: I have been absolutely overwhelmed by the support that has poured forth from people who have read and liked this little series. I'm so truly pleased that everyone has enjoyed it and I am so excited to continue this story. Thank you all very much! MASTERLIST Now on Ao3!

You learn John’s routine, at least as far as it overlaps with yours, fairly quickly.

He showers first thing in the morning, when normally you are still in bed trying to convince yourself out of it. In the limbo of fading sleep, it is a Herculean effort not to imagine it, not to picture steaming hot water flowing across broad shoulders, between and along full, plush pectorals, dripping along chiseled arms and down that narrow waist to…

You shake your head hard, and then wince when the action sends your toothbrush stabbing into the inside of your cheek. You are drowsily and unwillingly awake. The flow of water on the other side of the wall shuts off. You pretend, as you move on through your own routine, that you’re not thinking of long, strong legs, or anything else that lives below his abdomen.

It’s harder to hear the further away you get from your shared wall, but with a little time you’ve learned how to pick out the sounds of him working in his kitchen. There might be the thunk—never a harsh clang—of a pan on his stove, or the soft clicks of his fridge opening and closing. He doesn’t cook for very long, and washes his dishes in the sink rather than the washer.

You find that little detail endearing. From what little you know of him, it just seems appropriate.

There’s usually some quiet after that, and you’re pretty sure it’s because he’s eating. You picture him standing in his kitchen, leaning against the counter, plate balanced in one big hand. He hasn’t struck you yet as someone who would sit down alone to eat.

And he’s always alone. You have not heard anyone else in his flat. Not once.

You wonder at that as your own breakfast heats up. Does he have friends? Family?

A partner?

Your microwave beeps. You scowl at yourself. That’s none of your business. You don’t even know the man.

After he eats, you usually hear him step outside. You’ve peeked through your window, once, and have found him smoking a cigar, standing casually on his front doorstep. He’d been looking out into the street, his gaze moving evenly and methodically across the surrounding neighborhood, calm and attentive to the morning.

SAS. You’d known immediately what he was doing. An unexpected sense of safety had flooded you immediately, and continues to resonate in the here and now as you hear his door open and close.

Today, though, that safety is threaded with a little anxiety. You have to leave early, and it will be the first time you’ve faced him since that morning you’d spent trying to talk to him while ogling his bare chest.

He hadn’t been shirtless when you’d discovered his smoking habit. He probably is not now, either. You cannot decide if it’s a pity or a relief.

You check your hair a little nervously in the mirror hanging by your front door. Breakfast sits warm in a deep jacket pocket, a couple of English muffins wrapped in their plastic and bundled into a tea towel. Lunch is in your work bag, which sits ready and patiently waiting by your feet.

You’re just delaying. Your hair is fine. You breathe a little shakily, pick up your bag, scold yourself for a simpering idiot, and leave your flat.

“Morning, John,” you say as you step out, smiling, trying your best to sound casual.

His gaze comes to you immediately, and your knees feel very weak when those gorgeous blue eyes warm with a smile.

Goodness. Does he smile at everyone like that?

“Mornin’, love,” he replies, and you resolutely ignore how much love—which half your coworkers call you, too, stupid—makes your heart flutter. “Early start?”

“Yeah,” you say, locking your door, feeling your face already heating with a blush. “And a full day, too.”

He turns his head and exhales a puff of bluish smoke. “Wish I could say the same.”

You wrap both hands around the strap of your bag, lean against your door. You can’t help but surreptitiously look him up and down. House slippers, large. Long legs, hugged by worker’s denim, loose at the ankle and snug at the thigh and hip. A tight gray t-shirt providing an easy reminder of what you’d seen in all its glory only a few days ago. And—

“Mutton chops,” you say.

His brows raise. “Sorry?”

You slap a hand over your mouth. “That wasn’t meant to be out loud!”

John gives a laugh that sounds like it isn’t often used. The beard you’d first met him wearing is now trimmed neatly into two even swoops of dark auburn that make his smile look even fuller than before. “I suppose you haven’t seen ‘em, have you?”

You’ve often heard the buzz of his razor going as you’ve dragged yourself out of bed. At that point, of course, his shower is done.

Does he shave shirtless, with a towel around his waist?

You blink hard and shake that traitorous thought out of your head. “Sorry, I—don’t get me wrong, I mean, it suits you!”

The bristles of his mustache sound against the palm of his hand as he rubs his face. “You think so?”

Those gorgeous blue eyes are on you again, soft and appreciative, the same as they had been the morning you’d first met him. It makes your entire body feel a little warmer than it should.

“Anyway,” you say fretfully, scratching at the strap of your work bag, “I wanted to say, I imagine it’s hard to be home sometimes, isn’t it? With nothing to do, I mean.”

He gives a huff, but this time it’s a laugh that’s only trying to be amused. He looks out into the street. “Shouldn’t be, really.”

Most days, you hear him pacing. You think you’re able now to puzzle out his moods according to the tempo he beats against the hardwood floor. Slow, even, steps seem to be days that are better—those are days you don’t have to knock on the wall after he’s turned the TV up. When he blasts some sort of audio, it’s always following a stretch of agitated, arrhythmic circuits that travel the whole length of his flat.

You’ve noticed, though, that when you knock, and after he’s turned it down, the pacing does not resume.

You open your mouth to say something when your phone starts dinging furiously. You huff, dig it out, look at the screen—and roll your eyes.

“And I’ve kept you again, haven’t I?” John says ruefully.

“No!” you exclaim, clearing the notifications and looking up at him. “No, it’s just my coworker losing his bloody mind.” You suck on your cheek. “I should probably get going, though, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, picking up an ash tray and stubbing out his cigar. The rueful quirk of his brow does not leave his face, and the smile he gives seems perfunctory. “Get there safe, will you?”

“Sure, John,” you reply. You want to say something back, tell him something that will make his day easier, but you don’t know what would help, or even be welcome. So you just say, “Thanks.”

You’ve only walked a little ways away when you look back at him, and see him standing with his hand on his open door, about to go inside.

As if he’s felt you gaze on him, he turns and looks at you. You stop in your tracks.

How are his eyes still so blue even this far away?

You lift one hand up. Wave a little hesitantly.

He waves back, easy and casual as you please.

You duck your head, and hurry away.

Your heart jumps to your throat the next morning as you hear him step outside.

You do not need to leave early today, but you’re at your mirror anyway, tidying up your bed head and frowning at yourself.

This is a terrible idea. You have no business doing what you’re about to do. You’re only opening yourself up to disappointment. He’s no one to you, why are you even thinking of doing this? So what if he’d been fucking disappointed when you’d had to leave? You’re just neighbors. It’s been what, a week since he’d come home? If he’s getting attached, it’s no responsibility of yours to deal with.

And really, had he even been disappointed? It’s not like you know him. Maybe that’s just his face. Maybe it’s just your overactive imagination.

Part of you knows you’re making excuses. You aren’t prone to that kind of stupidity. You’ve heard him pacing. You remember shouldn’t be, really.

You know what it’s like to be lonely.

So you get one big mug of coffee in hand, open your front door, and step outside.

John, as expected, is standing there with a lit cigar between his fingers. “Morning, love,” he says, brows lifted. Of course, he hasn’t expected to see you today.

“Morning,” you reply, smiling.

It’s a little colder today, and he’s in a fleece-lined jacket and dark beanie. This surprises you.

“I didn’t think you could get cold, John,” you say, indicating the gear with your mug. “Unless I really was dreaming the first time we met.”

You want to cringe at yourself immediately. Stupid. You have no intention to flirt. You're just being a good neighbor.

The mutton chops spread in a smile. “Bit different when there’s no heat at your back, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” you reply. You bite the inside of your cheek. You hope you sound casual. “I hope you don’t mind if I join you this morning?”

The expression he gives is one that is going to live with you for a long, long time. He blinks at you, slowly, and fixes you with a gaze that goes from surprised to pleased. As it was before, it’s an expression that tells you that you have done something more meaningful than you can know.

“Be happy to have you,” he says, his tenor low and soft.

So, you leave your doorstep to stand with him at his own. He steps to the side, giving you space, and though there is a polite distance between you, something is humming in the empty air.

He surprises you by offering his cigar. Your brows shoot up, and you look from it up to him.

“Maduro,” he says. “Don’t worry—wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t good.”

“Oh,” you say, “thank you, but I don’t smoke.”

He shrugs and takes a drag. “Just came outside to stand with me, then?”

You sip your coffee. It’s the same question you’ve been agonizing over all morning. “Maybe I’m tired of my own company.”

He huffs at that. “Think I know how that feels.”

Silence falls between you, and it is surprisingly comfortable. You think it’s because the two of you are used to not actually speaking to each other—your days occur in parallel, intersecting only with knuckles on the wall. Conversation has not been necessary to be the kind of neighbors you are.

So why are you doing this? Why are you out here, if you’re not even going to speak to him? You’ve been content with the degrees of separation that have characterized your acquaintance with John Price.

Haven’t you?

You peek at him through your lashes. He is every bit as handsome in profile as he is straight on. The mutton chops make his face look fuller, incongruously younger, despite the crows’ feet at the corners of his eyes.

“Do you like to read?” you find yourself asking.

He turns back to you, brows raised. Somehow the cool morning has seeped into his eyes, sky blue tinted almost periwinkle, sharp and intense and yet still undeniably warm. “Read?”

You have to avert your gaze. Look at the pavement, a sign on the street. “I have plenty of books I wouldn’t mind loaning, is all. It would be something to do.”

His gaze is still on you. You can feel its weight, like hands on your arms, around your wrists. You bring the rim of your mug to your lips and pretend that nothing inside of you is thrumming with the awareness of it.

“Like what?” he asks.

You sip, insisting to yourself that it’s only the heat of your drink warming your ears. “Different things. A retrospective on the Battle of Actium, a Da Vinci biography, an Iranian professor’s memoirs. Those are nonfiction, but I have plenty of novels, too. Space operas. Westerns.” Romances, too, but you aren’t going to mention those.

“Sounds like you’ve got a big bookshelf,” says John, and you think he’s smiling at you.

“And too many books,” you agree. “Which you’re welcome to, if you like.”

You hear him exhale, see pale smoke bloom in front of you both. The scent is earthy and sweet, and a part of you regrets not taking his earlier offer.

The same part of you wonders if it’s what he tastes like.

You’re saved from having the throttle yourself for the thought when John replies, “Think I’ll read ‘em all.”

You blink, and look at him incredulously. “All of them?”

He grins. “You’ve offered a bored soldier on leave something to do, love. There’s a few men I know who’d propose on the spot for that.”

You go completely blank for a single heartbeat. Your brows are trying to make it into your hair. All of the blood in your body rushes to your face, and finally you sputter in protest, “That’s—I—really, now!”

John only adds fuel to that embarrassed flame when he laughs at your expression. It’s a good laugh, a real one, that comes from deep in his chest.

“That’s ridiculous, John, you’ve having me on!” you grouse, covering your mouth with your mug.

“You don’t know too many military men, then,” he chuckles. “They’d fall all over themselves for a pretty girl like you.”

You think your whole body might be hot enough to start steaming. You look at him petulantly. “It’s not nice to tease.”

He smiles and takes a drag. Paints the air translucent blue with his breath. “Haven’t been.”

It’s too much—you can’t string any sensible thoughts together to bring this conversation back under control. This is not how you’d expected the morning to go, is not what you would ever admit to having hoped for.

“I’ll just get those books, then,” you mutter, trying to ignore the smile he wears as you leave his doorstep.

You have a moment to breathe back inside your flat. You realize, as you search along one shelf, that your heart is pounding in your chest, and the scent of his cigar has trapped itself in your lungs. This not good. You should not be this easy.

John is just a bored soldier on leave. He said it himself. You have no business getting worked up over some flirting that likely, to him, means nothing.

If he was even flirting at all, you remind yourself to consider. He’d certainly been amused at your reaction. You don’t think he’d been making fun, but certainly he could’ve just been pushing your buttons.

Haven’t been rings low and purring in your ears.

You return with the three books you’d mentioned, and John takes them all into the crook of his elbow. The stack is dwarfed in his arm.

“Which one should I start with?” he asks, ashtray and cigar stub balanced in his other hand.

You give a surprised laugh. “Why should I care?”

He tilts his head, pins you with amused eyes. “‘M relyin’ on your expertise, I’m afraid. Been a while since I’ve read anything other than reports. Might not be smart enough for the real deal, anymore.”

SAS. “I doubt that.”

He shrugs, and looks at you expectantly.

“Da Vinci, then?” you suggest.

“He did that painting, didn’t he?” John asks. “Louvre. The woman. Uh…”

“Mona Lisa?” you supply, laughing and scandalized. “You have to be teasing now!”

“Well, maybe I’ll be smart enough to talk to you after I finish the book,” John says, accommodating with self-deprecation. “Da Vinci it is.”

You can’t help yourself. “Should I assign you comprehension questions, too? Name three things you remember and such?”

John smiles. “Be something else to do, anyway.”

Oh, this is dangerous. Every good sense in your head is pounding on the inside of your skull, warning you in one unified voice. Bored soldier, pretty girl, knocking on walls, books lent and borrowed. The story writes itself in your head, saccharine and heady—followed swiftly by ugly, mundane, inevitable denouement.

You are familiar now with the narrative of disappointment. You do not want John to wear its mantle.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” you say lightly, taking a swallow of your coffee as casually as you can. “I need to get ready for work.”

“Sure,” says John. He looks at you too fondly to stomach. “Appreciated the company.”

“Anytime,” your dumb, traitorous, too-honest mouth gives away.

The next morning begins as the rest do. John’s shower wakes you up. You resolutely don’t think about hot water and hotter skin as you drag yourself out from beneath the covers.

You brush your teeth. His water shuts off. A pan thunks in his kitchen while your first cup of coffee brews.

Silence. You drink. He eats.

You make your second cup. He steps out for his cigar.

A decision hangs on the knob of your front door.

This routine has been comfortable. Safe in its predictability. Measurable in its contributions to your daily life. The previous morning does not have to be anything other than an interesting deviation, a graze up against something more exciting and infinitely more fraught. You can keep the memory of John’s smile, John’s laughter, John’s kind blue eyes sweet and harmless in its ephemerality.

You can ignore the disappointment that stretches hairline cracks across that facade.

Your mug is warm in your hands as you stand in your living room, still and unmoving. From the quiet, the sound of a book falling over on your shelf, lost now of the support of its fellows, captures your attention.

You realize he is going to have to return your books at some point, and relief suddenly floods you. The decision is already made, isn’t it?

He smiles at you when you step out into the morning chill, bundled like you were the first morning into two coats. “There she is! Was hoping you’d join me again.”

Does it show on your face? The warmth that blooms inside of you at that sentiment so openly expressed?

The corner of his eyes crinkle as you stand there, transfixed and unable to hide your pleasure at his words.

“Morning, John,” you finally say. “Finish Da Vinci yet?”

As before, he steps aside, makes room for you on his doorstep. As before, you take the space next to him.

He takes a drag, eyes still on you and creased with amusement. “Not quite,” he says, exhaling. “Always was a poor student. Might take some time.”

You sip from your mug to hide your smile. “At least it’s something to do.”

The smoke from his cigar lingers in the air, mingling with the steam of your coffee.

Bonus notes: the books I referenced here are The War That Made the Roman Empire by Barry Strauss, Leonardo Da Vinci by Walter Isaacson, and Reading Lolita in Tehran and Things I’ve Been Silent About by Azar Nafisi. I wholeheartedly recommend every single one.

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Due to the sheer volume of people asking to be tagged, I am closing the taglist as of this chapter's publishing. If you're on it, you will still be tagged until this series' completion.

Have a request for something set in this story? Shoot me an ask, I'd love to hear about it! Thanks for reading.

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boyjoan · 2 months

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hiii hi my lovely henry!!! how are you doing? i hope you have had a lovely start to the month (sending lots of new spring flowers + sunny days your way xx) i've been going through your partridge family breakfast tag + its just SO lovely oh my gosh i love food so much...<3 have been feeling very uninspired with my dinners + was wondering if you'd tried any fun new recipes lately? (also !! going out to buy myself a pack of english muffins + butter + salt + apples for this week's breakfast!!! very excited hehe<3)

THEA!!!! How beautiful to see you!!!! come in sit down let me get you a lovely beverage <33 your well wishes are MUCH appreciated and returned tenfold i hope march is so kind to you and brings you peace unlike any you've ever experienced....

(I must mention i think of you every day when i watch gilmore girls bc your art makes me so overjoyed...)

Ahhhhhhh that makes me so HAPPY im so glad you're enjoying my little Food Posts <3 food to me.....the most powerful expression of love and the oldest....

What a LOVELY question and a very kind open door for me to talk abt food, you're a sweetheart!! Recently I've been very into thai food which im always hesitant to reccomend bc it has a lot of new ingrediants if you dont normally cook from that part of the world!! However if you Are up for an adventure and want to keep it simple: massaman curry. You can add beef or just potatoes to keep it vegan, and it is so bloody good. Make a batch on a sunday and eat it cold for like three days, i use the bbc goodfood recipe!! For smth even simpler, combine red thai paste with coconut milk, heat until reduced, and enjoy........i make this when im not very well and shove in cooked chicken or veggies!!

SOUP! I've been making chicken and leek soup.....but you can make just veggie soup if you prefer...combined vegetables of your choice (i like garlic, onion, carrot and leek, with a sprig of thyme) into a small portion of melted butter in a pan. Add stock (chicken or veggie) and allow to reduce. Stir through cooked shredded chicken or quick cook veggies like sugar snap peas or baby corn!! So warming bc it's been raining ALL the time omg....

Those are my big hitters at the moment!!! I hope you find sooo much recipe inspo my darling i CANT BELIEVE you're trying my favourite breakfast oh my god i eat it every day i hope you enjoy Please give me a full review if you so desire <3333

Thank you for stopping by my love!!!!

#THIS IS SO LONG IM SO SORRY SHDJFJ LOVE U!!#thank you for coming to....#partridge family breakfast!!

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alwayslovingharry · 2 years

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All I Want

A/N:It was difficult to title this chapter, if anyone has been paying attention to the titles of the chapters they are songs and this time I didn't have one in mind that fit the situation. I hope you like this chapter and see you in the next one.

previous part

PAIRING: Harry Styles x Hailey Foster (1Dmember!reader)

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

WARNING: Not an english native speaker.

SUMMARY: Tacos, guitars and a reunion of friends :)

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20/04/2017

“Can you stop throwing everything you're eating on the floor, Tomlinson," I shout as Louis drops the vegetables he's stolen from the pan for the third time. "I'd appreciate it if you'd leave some stuffing so I can make the tacos. "

Louis laughs as he picks up his beer bottle to take a sip and walks to the other side of the kitchen island. He's been at my house since he showed up here at 9:30 this morning with coffee and muffins from Starbucks for breakfast. In a few days he's flying to California to see Freddie and he's going to spend a couple of weeks with him while he records some songs in the studio.

"What time is it?" I ask as I walk over to the frying pan to give the vegetables and meat a turn again so they don't burn.

"It's after 12:45, more or less."

"The veggies are ready and the tortillas are warm, I hope Liv and Niall won't be long before they come over to eat." I put the lid back on the pan and turn off the heat, I turn and watch as Lou is leaning with his elbows on my kitchen island as he stares at something on his phone." Do you want to do something in the meantime or are you going to hang out on your phone until they come over?"

"Sorry darling, I was on instagram." Louis looks up from his phone and smiles at me, "Do you need me to help you set something up before they come over?"

"We can go put the plates and glasses in the living room." I reply as I start pulling the glasses and plates out of the cupboards and he walks over to pick them up.

We both walk with the dishes in our hands towards my living room. I don't have a dining table because I used the space to put a piano but whenever someone comes to eat we usually sit on my sofas around the coffee table. That's where we start to place the plates.

"This is it," Louis says when the table is ready as he sits down on the sofa and takes the guitar I left on the sofa last night in his hands. ”It's been a long time since I've seen this out here, have you started playing again?"

"More like back to composing."

"Didn't you say you were going to take some time off from putting out music?"

"Yes, but I've come to the conclusion that going back to composing helps me to keep a clear head and express my feelings, it's not like I'm in a studio day and night with the aim of writing an album. I just compose when I have free time or an idea pops into my head".

"Well you should put it away before Niall gets here and sees it, if you don’t want him to spend the whole afternoon on the guitar we can't leave it within his reach." I laugh and Lou hands me the guitar. "He's an addict."

I walk to the cupboard under the stairs where I keep my guitars. I only have four but when I was looking for a new house I was looked for one that had a small place to keep them so they weren't always lying around the house.

I put the instrument back in its case and I close the cupboard, returning to the living room. Lou is still sitting on my couch, with his feet up on one of the gaps in the coffee table where there are no plates or glasses. As I walk over to the couch to sit next to him, I tap his feet, forcing him to take them off the top of my table.

"If you want when I get back from LA we could do an afternoon of songwriting like the old days, you know, you, a guitar, some beers..."

"That's not a bad idea, do you know when you're coming back? I'm coming back from LA on the 5th of May."

"I...maybe I'll be here a few days before." I notice how Louis' expression changes completely as he says this.

"But didn't you tell me you were going to spend a few weeks with Freddie?"

"That was the idea but...Brianna has a family trip with her parents and brother to Miami and she wants to take Freddie with her." he explains as he plays with his hands." I land on the 22nd in the evening but on the 24th they're leaving, so I'll see Fred on the 23rd and I'll be back on the 26th after having recorded the missing part of the Back To You music video. No big deal. "

"Lou...it's not fair, you hardly see your son..."

"It's fine, don't worry Hails, he's with his mother."

"I'm sure she made up that trip to Miami so you can't be with Freddie, you should report her, she's already done things like this so you won't see him more. "

"I don't want this to affect Fred, he's too young, I don't want him to be involved in lawsuits and social services. "

"I just think maybe you should do something, you don't want it to affect him but at this rate he's not going to recognise his own father and you're going to suffer a lot. I don't want you to suffer Lou."

We both fall silent and Louis turns on his phone screen, lowering his eyes to watch it. I remain silent, waiting for him to speak.

"Two months ago I had a meeting with my lawyers and management, I had just come back from LA and I was fucking furious that Brianna had forbidden me to bring Freddie to London for a while so that he could be with me and we could spend time with my sisters. I was so pissed off that the first thing I did when I got off the plane was to call my lawyer and tell him to start preparing to take the custody of Fred from Brianna".

"You wanted to take custody away?"

"That was the only thing going through my head while I was on the plane, to take custody away from her completely and bring my son here with me, but talking to my lawyers and Lottie calmed me down a bit. They made me realise that maybe it was too radical an idea."

"So what's management got to do with it? I don't understand, if you talked it over with your lawyers, why have a meeting with your management?"

"For the same reason as always, my fucking public image. I was in a meeting room with them for 4 hours while they explained to me how bad it would be for my image if I suddenly asked for full custody of my son. I know I'm not a role model, but fuck, Brianna's not mother of the year either."

"Don't tell me they told you you couldn't ask for full custody."

"They advised against it, they didn't really tell me not to but I don't know if it's the best idea either Hailey. I'm 24 and I barely know what I want to do with my solo career yet, I don't know if I'm in the best position to be able to take care of and raise a one year old. "

"I've seen you with your sisters since you were 18, always taking care of them and making sure you saw them whenever you could. If anyone can take care of a child while trying to find themselves, it's you."

Louis goes silent again and turns his phone screen back on, I see he has a picture of himself with Freddie in the background. He sighs and looks up from the screen again, staring at me.

"Do you think I should do it, ask for the custody?"

"Yes, Freddie deserves to know you and his family, Brianna may be his mother and she carried him for nine months but you are his father and you have as much right as she does to see him grow up. Besides, you're a great dad Lou. "

With my last words a small smile appears on his mouth. His smiles always give me the feeling that they could light up any room.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Hails."

"You'd probably have to pay a psychologist to tell him all your shit," I joke, making him smile as he settles further into the couch.

"I'll talk to my lawyers before I go to LA , you're right, my son needs to be with me. "

"You have me for whatever you need, you know that."

"Now you can't take that back, if I call you at 4 in the morning to come help me with a crying baby you have to come. "

"I'll come when you need me, Louis."

"Do you think I'll have time to smoke one before Olive and Niall come over?" Louis asks me as he gets up from the couch and pulls his pack of cigarettes out of his trousers pocket.

"They'll be here any minute. "

"It's only five minutes, I'm going out into the garden so I don't fill your living room with smoke." he tells me as he walks towards the exit at the back of my house, closing the door behind him when he's already out.

It's only a few minutes after he's gone out into the garden and the doorbell rings. I get up from the sofa and walk to the hallway, opening the door to find Olive trying not to drop her motorbike helmet and the cases in her hands.

"Hey," I say as I grab her helmet and laptop case from her hands.

"You don't know how hard it is to go with all this on a scooter in the middle of London".

"But didn't you come from home?"

We both go in and go to the living room, leaving all her stuff in the corner so they won't disturb us.

"That was my plan but Jeff called me two hours ago to go over some of the photos they're going to use to promote the tour with the publicity people, in case they needed more editing and in the end I had to take half the equipment with me," he explains as he finishes setting everything up so it doesn't get in the way.

"Wait, wait Jeff? Tour?"

"Hails, the tour Harry is starting in a few months. Remember, he hired me for his album design and photography team? That I was with him like four weeks ago doing a whole book of photos for the promo and the album? "

"Yeah, but I thought you were done already. "

"I was done but Jeff called me this morning asking if I could come to his office to go through the photos again to pick out the tour promo photos. "

"That’s why you were taking so long," I walk back to the kitchen, Liv following me.

"Is it just me?"

"No, Louis is smoking in the garden, Niall is the one who doesn't show up or show any signs of life. "

I take a beer out of the fridge and hand it to Olive. I open one of the drawers on the counter and grab a bottle opener and hand it to her as well.

"I thought it was going to take less time because it was just choosing the photos at the beginning, but we wanted to see how they would look more or less already edited," she replies, opening the bottle and taking a swig. “The good thing is that I've been offered a job again".

"Really? And what about the hair and make-up course?”

"I will have finished it by then, they have hired me to take the photos of the concerts of the tour that they have in England but if I wanted to they have also offered me the chance to take the photos of all the concerts that I want to do that they have in the European part of the tour. All travel expenses paid and a good salary. "

"Hadn't that travel company already hired you to take photos for the travel guide as soon as you finish the course in September?"

"I told Jeff about it and that's why they offered me to go on the European part of the tour as well, I would do the photos for the guidebook and the concert photos as well at the same time. As I have to travel around Europe anyway, it's a two for one. Plus with the guidebook I don't have a set route and they only want me to take photos of the places they want me to. "

I stir the vegetables in the pan one more time while she talks. I'm so proud that she's got two jobs where she's going to do what she's always wanted to do for as long as I can remember, capture the world in her photos.

The garden door opens and Louis walks in, smiling to see that I am no longer alone.

"Olive!" they both hug, laughing. “It's been ages since I've seen you, I don't even remember our last boozy night out! "

One of the reasons Louis and Liv get along so well is their love for partying. When we were on tour with the band and Liv came to visit us, they'd both go out partying that night even if it was right after a gig and Louis was super tired.

"No wonder you don't remember, because I don't either. " they both laugh.

"We have to go out sometime."

"Don't call me like you did last time, because I do remember I had to force each of you into a taxi at 7 o'clock in the morning. One of you was half puking and the other was dragging him out of the pub you were in."

"That's because you didn't want to come with us, if you had come you would have ended up as drunk as we were . "Liv says to me as Louis keeps an arm around her shoulders." Ever since you started hanging out with your stupid boyfriend you stopped partying with us.”

"It's not his fault Jack is so boring and doesn't like to party, plus now he's not even your boyfriend anymore after the stand up you gave him at the restaurant, so no we don't have to worry about him anymore."

I bite my lip for a few seconds as I shake the wooden spoon in the pan. Maybe the best thing I can do is drop the bomb now and let them both yell at me at the same time, a two for one.

"I spoke to him again, I said yes," I say directly as I pull the pan away from the hob and look back at them, as if what I've just said is the most normal thing in the world.

They are both silent, staring at me. I hadn't told either of them about the meeting with the managers or how I had called Jack back the afternoon after the meeting with Brenda. I had to lie to him that the proposal had scared me but it was clearly a yes. Since then I have arranged to meet him some days to start the preparations, with meetings with our wedding planners.

But I hadn't told Louis and Liv any of this, basically no one. When I talked or met Jack I tried to make excuses if they asked me.

"You must be joking."

"It's not a joke."

"You'd run away from the restaurant! You stood him up! " Liv shouts and takes a few steps until she's right in front of me. "When did you say yes to him? "

"Early March, we've started planning the wedding too, we've even got wedding planners working already and it'll probably be in the summer next year. "

"And when were you going to tell us all this? When you were dressed in white walking down the aisle of the church?" she replies angrily, turning away from me again to look out of my kitchen window into the garden. "I really don't understand why the fuck you said yes to him now, I don't understand you. "

"It was her, wasn't it?" speaks Louis calmly for the first time since I told the truth. "When did you have a meeting with Brenda?"

"The same day I called Jack for the first time since Valentine's Day."

"That bitch." he mutters before adding." What did she threaten you with this time? That they'll take more percentage of your earnings? Have the fucking paparazzi on you all day?"

"Basically, to fuck up my career in every possible way until I didn't marry her son."

"They're all a bunch of bastards...I hate Modest, his managers and all the rats that run it. " Louis curses. "Why do they always have to fuck up our lives? What have we done to them?"

"Don't worry, it wasn't that bad, Lou."

"No big deal?! You said yes to a guy you've never been in love with, never even liked. You're forced to live a life where you have no freedom with someone you don't really want to be with, for what? So that they also force you to do whatever they want with your music and your image. "

"I'm getting married in exchange for getting out of there, one of my conditions was not having to pay anything if the contracts run out and I change management. My contracts with Modest and SYCO end in September next year and without those clauses where I had to pay millions to each of them if I left, I could leave with total freedom!"

"But at what price! "shouts Liv again" Hailey, you're getting married without love over some contracts!

"Woah, I can hear you guys yelling from outside." Not expecting it, Niall suddenly appears in my kitchen startling us.

"Niall, you don't know how to knock! How did you get in?" I say.

"You left the door open and I heard you two arguing so I thought I'd better come straight in. What's wrong with you?"

"Our dear Hailey has just told us that she's going to marry her boyfriend and we don't believe it," Louis explains as I sit down on the kitchen stools.

“You’re marrying Jack?" Niall asks as if he doesn't quite believe it.

"Yes" I reply tiredly. "Is something wrong? "

"No, no, no. You decide who you marry, it's just...to be honest, I don't think anyone's ever really believed that there's anything more than a relationship for publicity, a stunt. I've known you for almost 7 years and ever since you started dating him it's like a part of you hasn't been the same."

"We all grow up Niall, you're not the same as you were as a teen."

"I know that but it's just...you stopped really being yourself. It's like you lost something when you started the relationship, and I don't know why that something only came back when...you were with a certain person."

"Not the same thing again, please," I say tiredly as I drop my face against my arms on the kitchen counter.

"If also Niall sees it, then we're right, aren't we?" I feel a hand rest on my back as Louis speaks." You haven't spoken to him again, to Harry?"

"Of course not, I'm getting married! " I raise my head to look at the three of them. "It wouldn't be fair to him or me or Jack."

"It wasn't fair before either when Jack was your boyfriend and you were fucking with him backstage or in the hotel room before concerts." mentions Liv before taking a gulp of her beer, if I could kill her with my eyes she'd be dead on the kitchen floor by now.

"That's something I've never understood, why were you with Jack if you were then going back to Harry?" Niall asks.

I stand silently watching as Niall and Louis stare at me for me to speak. Liv sits on the other stool next to me.

"Harry was like a safe place, you guys are too, but with him it was always different. It was like with just one look he could completely read my mind, he understood me perfectly and I understood him," I explain as I stare out the window. "When I was with him it was like all this fame shit didn't exist. It was just us, Harry and Hailey. I forgot about my problems and worries, I just cared about that moment with him. It was like feeling free."

"That sounds to me like how you should feel with your partner and I've never heard you talk like that about Jack," Louis says making me fix my gaze on them again.

"Neither have I, and I've been listening to everything she thinks for ages."

"You said all that about Harry but you didn't answer my question about why you're with Jack. "

"I don't really know " I answer honestly.

The four of us remain silent and I take the opportunity to get off the stool, take a flat plate and go to the oven to take out the corn tortillas that I had left to heat up slowly. I put the warm tortillas on the flat plate and I take the frying pan, balancing everything in my hands.

"Everything is ready, we can eat now," I say as I start to walk into the living room, setting it down on the table before I sit down on the sofa and they move around the table as well.

Liv and Louis try to start a totally different small conversation as we start preparing and eating the tacos, but Niall and I keep quiet. We've barely started eating when Niall suddenly drops his taco on his plate and turns to look at me, interrupting Lou and Liv's conversation.

"I know I'm not an expert on love and these two have probably already tried to convince you in every possible way," he says as he points his hand at our friends." But I feel like I should tell you that if you really think you love Jack and that marrying him is the right thing to do, you're screwing up. Just listen to the way you talk about Harry, you could write one of the best love songs ever written with just what you've told us, and it's clear to me that you feel even more for him. You are the one who decides about your life and what you do with it but I think you could listen a little bit to the three of us, we have seen up close how you are with Harry and how you are with Jack. And there is no point of comparison. "

"My advice, opinion or whatever " Niall continues." is to listen more to your heart and less to your head. Sometimes it's better to put aside what your head says might be the safest thing to go for what your heart says is the right thing to do. But as I told you before, I'm no expert on love either so it's up to you to decide what to do."

The three of them go back to eating in silence as I sit there thinking with Niall's words still in my head. I know everyone is right, they always recommend the same thing but I don't know if listening to my heart is the answer.

Maybe I shouldn't be waiting until I'm 100% sure before I act.

"What exactly do you think I should do?" I say as I watch the three of them stop eating and turn their attention back to me.

"Refuse to marry Jack," Olive replies after wiping a napkin from her face.

"Talk to Harry in case he feels the same way."

"Fuck Harry."

"LOUIS!" the three of us shout, causing her to throw her hands in the air.

"I'm sorry but we all have to admit that this girl needs a good fuck and I know someone who needs a good fuck too. You're both sexually frustrated, sweetheart. "

"Mr. Styles and our friend's sexual needs aside, you need to talk to him about all of this," Liv recaps as I continue to glower at Louis." The only way to really know what he feels and thinks is for you to open up and tell him the truth."

"All of it," Louis emphasises.

"And when I talk to him? The last time I spoke to him I left him half crying in Louis' dressing room, I don't think talking to him on the phone or coming in and texting him is the best way to start a conversation about...all of this.

“Wait, you left Harry crying in the dressing room on X Factor day," Niall asks suddenly.

“Yeah, I had to comfort him because this girl took off," Louis replied.

"I didn't walk out, I just went home and when I came out of the dressing room he wasn't even crying.

"I found him slumped on a couch, I was the one who was supposed to be slumped that day and I got to console Harry Styles for his broken heart. "

"I didn't break his heart, don't exaggerate."

"Don't start arguing about this, please," Liv asks before Louis has time to say anything else on the subject." If you don't want to contact him by phone, you have to make something up so you can get back together."

"I think I can take care of that, I'm the one who got you two talking again last time so I'll come up with something to get you two back together."

"Last time we went to see you perform without telling you, you didn't know we were going to be there."

"But I was the one who left you alone in a dressing room."

"And then Harry ended up crying," adds Niall.

"But it won't be like that this time...I hope."

"Now you just need to get your head together and think about what you're going to say to Harry," says my best friend after Louis' comment.

"Like that's so easy," I reply picking up my taco again to eat it.

to continue…

next part

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Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it, please leave any comments or leave a like it if you enjoyed it.

See you soon :)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles soft fanfic #harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles x famous!reader #music #one direction #styles

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icarusthelunarguard · 2 years

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This Week’s Horrible-Scopes

It’s time for this week’s Horrible-Scopes! So for those of you that know your Astrological Signs, cool! If not, just pick one, roll a D12, or just make it up as you go along. It really doesn’t matter.

Aries

Remember the old cartoon production company, “Hanna Barberra”? Over the years they made only a handful of shows based off of real people: Laurel and Hardy, The Robonic Stooges, The Globetrotters and Super Globetrotters, The Gary Coleman Show, and The Abbott and Costello Cartoon Show. You know how many had the actual people voicing themselves? Two! Gary Coleman and Bud Abbott. This week stop wondering who’ll play you in the movie about your life - it’s not going to be you.

Taurus (https://www.dolmetsch.com/musicalsymbols.htm)

Putting together a visual reference for musical symbols should be a fairly simple affair. Staff Lines, Clef Marks, and Sharps and Flats are common, so explaining them in great detail isn’t needed. Showing a fat, squat letter “A” and explaining it means, “Play With A Fingernail”... Ok, that’s an esoteric symbol and a simple description. But if you add a variety of symbols to indicate which instrument a percussionist should be playing, and end with, “most are self-explanatory”... No, Janet! It’s not self-evident why a percussionist should have a handgun… Unless it’s pointed at the viola section. This week stop assuming things!

Gemini

Last week’s Horrible-Scope included the mental image of Miss Piggy in Shibari rope bondage hanging in a deli window like a piece of uncured mortadella. Since the US National Pork Board complained, we’d like to clarify something; we in NO way meant to kink-shame Miss Piggy, the Muppets, or anyone who likes to engage in Safe, Sane, and Consensual acts, as well as whatever they like to eat. Please just remember to choose a proper safeword that is easily understood, even if you have a frog in your throat.

Cancer Moon-Child

Last week, when we told you to, quote, make an apple pie from scratch… we didn’t think we had to remind you to not create an entire parallel universe first. But since you did, you’re now going to have to wait about Thirteen-point-Seven Billion. That “B” - Billion! Thirteen-point-Seven billion years for the first apple trees to appear in it. Obviously you weren’t planning ahead, since right now all you have is a universe of nothing but heat, comparable to biting full-face into a McDonald’s Hot Apple Pie. Stay in your own universe and just… toast an English Muffin instead.

Leo

It’s a current Law Of The Universe that, “if Weird Al covers your song, you’ve made it.” It’s a double-edged sword, though, since people might start to remember Al’s version better. And this is why your friends never let you pick songs on long car rides because you always sing Al’s lyrics instead of the right ones! This week start playing your music with the lyrics showing.

Virgo

Yeah, uhh… about us picking on you for those D-Size batteries you have. Uhhh… Yeah. We accidentally found out what they’re for, and… uhh… Yeah. We’re just gunna go out and buy you the biggest Maglite flashlight we can find, which would be the ML300L LED 6-Cell D Flashlight. At just under a hundred U.S. Monetary Units, it’ll help US sleep better at night.

Libra

In the market for a car? How about this… BUY A HEARSE! Look… a 2011 Cadillac Eagle Coach Kingsley with 67,200 miles for $35,000. It takes standard gasoline, doesn’t get great mileage, but it’s got room enough for a mattress and STILL has room for a full-size spare tire, everyone will do everything to NOT hit you, and you can park it anywhere without an alarm… because EVERYONE will be watching it for you. This week go shopping outside the box.

Scorpio

Cool Things are harder to do than you realize. You want to learn how to crack a bullwhip but you can only afford the piece of crap at the mall edgy-teen store? Just don’t bother. If you do learn to pop it it’ll disintegrate almost immediately. And if you can afford a good quality one you might seriously hurt yourself by doing it wrong. This week invest in an oiled canvas riding jacket instead.

Sagittarius

Time to test your trivia knowledge. The word is, “Zectron”, coined in 1964. Without looking it up is it A) the brand name of the material Super Balls are made of, B) a one-off villain from the Japanese series “Ishimaru of the Wind” who was able to dispel illusions, C) the design code-name for the SCART A/V connector used in Europe or D) a tongue-in-cheek reference to an inking mistake in the early Warner Brothers cartoon production cells.

Capricorn

Your nostalgia for the Game Boy Color is cute. In 2000 the game Robot Wars Metal Mayhem was released, taking direct inspiration from the TV series Robot Wars. It was great marketing for the show, but with a screen resolution of 160 x 144, the most animated part of the game was the intro credits. This week consider buying a Steam Deck and play some Nintendo Switch games on it.

Aquarius

It’s time to go clothes shopping again. No, you can’t put it off any longer, you need new underwear and new socks, in that order. Yes it can be embarrassing, but think about how soft, smooth, and comfortable you’ll feel in them. It’s like having that New Car Smell, but for your feet. Speaking of which - this week, hit up Bath & Body Works for a Eucalyptus Spearmint spray for yours.

Pisces

It's the Pre-Winter-Holiday Vacation Season”, so you better put in your time-off request this week. The only remaining question is, where to go? Plot out on a map a drive that’ll take about three hours and spend a long weekend there. And don’t go for a big name hotel - just find a single-level strip-plaza no-tell motel and stay there. If you get the last room on a side you can be as loud as you want without disturbing anyone. And enjoy the time.

And THOSE are your Hobble-Scopes for this week! Remember if you liked what you got, we’re obviously not working hard enough at these. BUT! If you want a better or nastier one for your own sign or someone else’s, all you need to do to bribe me is just Let Me Know! These will be posted online at the end of each week via Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook and Discord.

#Comedy #humor #horrorscope #The Answer is A #You didn't read the hashtag again

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castillon02 · 2 years

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Gala Brand’s Eggs Benedict

“Boy trouble?” Gala asked the woman next to her at the pub. Her frequent glances at her watch and at the door gave away a missing beau.

“That man!” the woman said, American-accented. “He can save your life and save a country, but he’s probably golfing with someone from work---or at Blades with someone from work---instead of remembering that we had a date night.”

Gala nodded. Her fiance was undercover, just as she had once been, and she was waiting. Patiently. Mostly. But there was no reason a girl couldn’t go to a pub and enjoy the sights, particularly when the sights included the lovely redhead next to her. “Buy you a drink?” she asked.

A few drinks, a “Dump him” speech, a name reveal, and a few more drinks later, Tiffany was tucked into a blanket on Gala’s sofa. She would need some water and a good breakfast later; luckily, Gala knew exactly how to provide those.

She served them up to Tiffany the next morning, presenting them with a flourish. “One eggs Benedict for the lady who rang up James Bond and told him she was dumping him for an American military officer!”

Tiffany leaned across the sofa and pressed a kiss to Gala’s cheek. “And one lipsmack for the girl who helped me do it!”

Eggs Benedict recipe under the cut!

Eggs Benedict ingredients:

Eggs

Water (for poaching the eggs)

Bacon/Canadian bacon/ham/your choice of protein

English muffins

Hollandaise sauce (recipe below)

Hollandaise sauce ingredients:

10 tablespoons unsalted butter (if using salted butter, omit the added salt)

3 large egg yolks

1 tablespoon lemon juice

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

Dash cayenne to taste

Hollandaise directions:

Melt butter on low heat.

Blend egg yolks, lemon juice, and salt in a blender or food processor until the eggs get a little paler. While continuing to blend, slowly dribble in the melted butter. (You need to add the melted butter slowly or it will turn the egg yolks into scrambled egg!)

Add more salt and lemon juice to taste.

Eggs Benedict directions:

Fry the bacon or other protein.

Poach the eggs.

Toast the English muffins.

Add the bacon, then the egg, and then a dollop of Hollandaise sauce to half of an English muffin. Sprinkle the Hollandaise sauce with paprika or other spices as desired.

#007 fest #team00 #castillon writes #castillon cooks #tiffany case #gala brand #food cw

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productdisplay · 1 month

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Crafting Culinary Creations: Exploring Innovative Recipes with Your Sandwich Machine

The struggle is real: mornings are hectic, lunch breaks are short, and dinner needs to be quick and easy. But who says tasty meals have to be complicated? Enter the dynamic duo of the kitchen - the humble sandwich maker and the versatile cookware set.

The Speedy Sandwich Savior

The sandwich maker is a champion of quick and delicious meals. Whether you're a college student cramming for exams, a busy professional on the go, or a parent juggling a million tasks, this countertop appliance is your knight in shining armor.

Effortless Eats: In just minutes, you can transform simple ingredients like bread, cheese, and fillings into perfectly toasted and gooey delights. No need for preheating ovens or hovering over a pan – the sandwich maker takes care of it all.

Variety is the Spice of Life: Don't be fooled by the name - sandwich makers can do much more than flattened classics. Many models offer interchangeable plates for waffles, paninis, or even grill marks, letting you explore different textures and flavors.

Compact Convenience: Small and lightweight, the sandwich machine doesn't hog precious counter space. Plus, its non-stick surfaces make cleaning a breeze, another win for busy lives.

The Cookware Set: Your Culinary Canvas

While the sandwich maker is a master of speed, a good cookware set is your gateway to culinary exploration. A well-rounded set equips you to tackle a wider range of dishes, from breakfast scrambles to one-pot wonders.

The Right Tools for the Job: A typical cookware set includes a frying pan, a saucepan with a lid, and a stockpot. This basic trio allows you to saute, simmer, boil, and even steam, opening doors to countless recipes.

Heat Distribution Matters: Look for cookware made from materials that distribute heat evenly, preventing hot spots and ensuring consistent cooking results. Stainless steel and cast iron are popular choices, each with their benefits.

Versatility is Key: Many cookware sets come with additional pieces like a steamer basket or a casserole dish, further expanding your culinary repertoire.

Together, They Conquer the Kitchen

The beauty of this duo lies in their complementary nature. The sandwich maker tackles quick meals and snacks, while the cookware set empowers you to whip up more elaborate dishes. Here's how they work in perfect harmony:

Leftovers Reimagined: Leftover grilled chicken or roasted vegetables from dinner become the stars of a quick and satisfying sandwich the next day.

Soup and Sandwich Combos: Whip up a creamy tomato soup in your saucepan, pair it with a melty grilled cheese from your sandwich maker, and you have a soul-warming lunch ready in no time.

Breakfast Champions: While you're making fluffy scrambled eggs in your pan, the sandwich maker can be toasting bagels or English muffins for the perfect breakfast duo.

The Final Bite

The sandwich maker and cookware set are more than just kitchen appliances - they're your allies in the fight against culinary boredom and time constraints. With their combined power, you can create delicious meals, no matter how busy your schedule is. So, invest in this dynamic duo and watch your kitchen transform into a haven of quick, easy, and delicious possibilities.

Explore our collections: @ https://productdisplay.in/collection-category/kitchen-appliances/sandwich-toaster/

#sandwich machine #sandwich maker #sandwich press #cookware set #kitchen essentials

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gotjacobian · 4 months

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I watched BDG's breakfast sandwich video the other day. I think the sandwich he makes is perfectly serviceable, but I know in my heart that the one I make is 1) faster, 2) tastier, and 3) vegetarian friendly and therefore better. This is one of the few areas in which I permit myself arrogance. Here is how I make it - it takes ten minutes and you *can* add meat and hash browns or whatever to it if you really want. I just think it's a superior sandwich even without those things.

Ingredients: - Bread (Usually a halved Bolo roll because they have those here, or two slices of trader joe's soft sourdough. An english muffin or bagel or whatever would also work. Once I used portuguese sweet bread, which was a pain to toast but was very tasty.) - Butter - 1-2 eggs - Shredded cheese (I basically only get the mexican three-cheese blend) + Other omelette ingredients if you want - Mayonnaise - Minced jarred garlic, roasted garlic, or garlic powder - Half a tomato (I am a tomato liker and usually just chop and eat the other half) - Salt and pepper (and optionally, MSG) 1. Toast the bread. I use a toaster or convection oven, if you don't have one, melt enough butter to thinly coat the bottom of a pan on medium heat, and put the bread on while that's bubbling.

2. While the bread is toasting, beat the egg(s) in a bowl with a large pinch of salt and pepper (plus a smaller pinch of MSG if you have/want it). Heat half a tablespoon of butter in whatever pan you have over medium heat. Once it's melted, pour on the egg mixture.

2. While that's cooking, mix the sauce - about a tablespooon of equal parts mayonnaise and jarred garlic, or two cloves roast garlic, or however much garlic powder makes you happy.

3. Wait a minute or two for the bottom of the egg mixture to solidify. The top will still look liquid. Sprinkle a small handful of shredded cheese on the top. you can add other omelette filling-type ingredients too (herbs, spinach, sundried tomato, bell pepper, whatever). I do chopped parsley pretty regularly with good results.

4. When the cheese has melted, fold the omelette over the cheese. Waiting a minute, flip it, take it off the heat, and use your utensil to cut it in half.

5. Spread your sauce on both halves of your bread. Add half your omelette to each slice of bread. Slice the tomato, sprinkle salt on it, put it on top, eat it as either open or closed-face.

(Bonus: I put Lao Gan Ma on it too sometimes and my girlfriend gives me no end of shit for it. But it's really good, so if that's something you have give it a shot too. Just spread some on top of the egg when doing final assembly, it's great)

(Double bonus: There's a place here that makes toum [blended garlic and olive oil sauce] which I steal from university events they cater. Use that instead of the garlic mayonnaise thing if you can get it. You can futz with the sauce in all kinds of ways too - I have not personally tried mixing sriracha or chopped herbs or something with the mayonnaise instead of garlic, but whatever "___ aioli" your favorite hip restaurant is serving you, try mixing that thing with it and it'll probably be good)

In an ideal world, this only dirties one pan, one fork, one knife, and one bowl, which is acceptable to me. If you have pre-cooked or cured meat you want to add, you can add them straight to the omelette. Otherwise you can cook it separately and add it at the end, though I like it just fine without. I DID try putting microgreens on it once and that was a wreck, they wouldn't stay in the sandwich and tasted bad cooked, so fair warning there. Really do try the bolo roll if you can get them, I like them way better than english muffins.

#complaining #food #recipe #i made this today i should've taken pictures #i will try at some point if i remember

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mtnkat3 · 1 year

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9.16am

Good morning my loves..... my precious beloved Bears . Angels . . . . .

I hope & pray all is ok for each piece of you . . . . . That you slept well &..

Merry Christmas Eve!

That you . . . . .aren't feeling too scrooge like. Grin.

Even as I'm struggling to wake up.

Because it's 8°F is ne GA!!!

Just not normal. So heat pumps struggling.

And I'm layered! Lol!

I just.. as waking up in twilight sleep I was thinking about same as what fell asleep thinking about... you . . . . . How to break the chains & the rules of an evil monster binding me. What should I do... how do I do this right.. & knowing I have to wait & ..

💡having to wait is an adversary test. That God is working on me to see.. the right steps. So that I don't fall off the bridge into a bottomless crevice.

My loves..... I bow my knees to God. I bow my knees to you . . . . . my soul's precious beloved Bears . Angels . . . . . Only. The way God intends me to. You . . . . .will see me like that. No other human being will. No matter what society thinks. No matter people's taboos. You . . . . . & I are mavericks thru & thru. I don't want anyone but you . . . . .to understand me! I like being an enigma!

I cannot wait to wake up every morning in your arms!!!!! Every day of the year... including Christmas, birthdays, & all the other special days.. I wanna wake up & be looking into your..... eyes & whispering good morning my sexy Bears..... & Merry Christmas! And yes my loves..... your names have flooded my brain with desperate longings to say your names..... from nicknames to proper. To devote myself to you . . . . .whilst staring into your eyes.....

I'm going bonkers with the need to!!!

I hate this being separated from you!!!!! It's making me beyond cranky!

So I'm praying God shines His Light on my steps. So I can make them!!!

So I can jump to your.....side of the bridge!!!!! So I see the broken boards & dangerous hidden snares & slippery slopes & the sucking bog swamp & jump right over them to land at your feet!!!!! That He unfurls my wings to gracefully make the leap!

This I pray wholeheartedly.

Because I believe.

It's why I work & wait patiently.

Even when still o.p. blogs I can't interact with. Sigh. Gr. Just..gr.

Nothing like a protracted time writing because..

[H didn't go out this morning so hard to write while he's yammering as comes back & forth to the kitchen&stuffing english muffins in his face. Charlie brown teacher. ] just gr.

Ok.. I pray you . . . . . feel me.

I hate not hearing your voices stroking across my soul.. my skin... I am.. your instrument. Yes.. blushing grin. I played piano, clarinet, & sang all thru my life before .. now. Sigh. Pipes are rusty. Only music I can't read...percussion & haven't ever seen guitar. And maybe electrical, need to refresh & plumbing diagrams would need to learn. Huh. Not sure if I've seen hvac to come to think of it. Blushing shyly grin.

Ok. I gotta get moving. Need to do cgm today, wash clothes & pray septic system does ok. [Gurgling isn't normal. Not sure if it's the stacks, or needs to be pumped. Started before artic blast hit. Last week.] Ah the joys of home ownership! Lmao!

Only reason I'm gonna do an apartment is short term leasing, & security. Feel like that's what I'm being directed to do. Hm?

I love you . . . . . & cannot begin to tell you just how much I miss you . . . . . I wanna wake up in your arms at 2am because our souls are hungry...

not because I couldn't go to bed until then. Not because of.. uhm. Safety.

I wanna feel your. . . . .hardness..... snuggled uhm..close. blushing grin.

OMG...please.....?????

Whimpering moan..

Ahem. Stop t. Get to moving. Blushing beet red.

Yes my loves.....

Get to work so we are together forever!!!!!

I adore you . . . . .

I am.

Yours . . . . .

~Tijgeress kat Phoenix. ✝️🌺🐾🐯☸⚓🙇‍♀️🙏🤲🧣🧤🥾🍋🥤🥨🥓🍳🥩⛓🧰📋🗓⚙⚒🛠⚖🔐🗽🤓👩‍🏫👩‍🎓🕵️‍♀️🎓🏗🧱🏰⚔🛡🦅🕊🐯🐾🐐🦉🐢🐛🦋🌱🌺🌹🌻🌷🌳🌲🧶🧵🥧🥮🍯🍼☕🍫🍭🌰🍎🍑🍒⌚⚡🌟🌠🚀🗝🔱⚜💝🐻🦌🧩♠️♾🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🧭💋🎅🎄🎁🎀🌡🌬❄☃️

Sa.12.24.2022 10.49am est. Sigh. h just left!

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thelaundrybitch · 2 years

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Little Blue Hearts Update - Chapter 2

I know it hasn't been a week, but I love you all, so here's an update for this fantastic Friday!

18+ content - for mature audiences only!

Reblogs only, please!

Little Blue Hearts cover art by the lovely @leosgirl82

Some Sketchy Shit

"Welcome to my humble abode! Well, for now, anyway."

Ashley flicked the light on inside her tiny studio apartment that consisted of a futon, a television, a couple of folding tray tables, and a kitchenette.

"Wow, living the high life here..."

"Well, that's why I applied for the new place! I can't wait to spread out!" She says as she spins with her arms wide, plopping herself on the futon.

I place my suitcase down next to the futon and sit beside her.

"I'm excited to see this place. When do we get to see it?"

"The landlord said he could meet us there at 4:30 this afternoon. So, we'll catch a good nap, get ready, and head that way. We can stop and have a bite to eat at the little cafe between here and there. It's walking distance, so you can just leave your car in the parking garage."

We sleep until about noon, shower, and get ready.

I decide on a white tank top under a round-necked, black and teal ombre, button-down, short-sleeved shirt that has a white swirled embellished design at the top. I finish my look with a pair of skinny jeans, and my black, knee-high, leather boots. I throw on my favorite blue and purple hooded sweatshirt, because it's too warm out for the leather jacket.

I pull the front of my hair back and put it in a small, claw hair clip, and throw the rest into a messy knot at the back of my head.

I put on black mascara, a bit of black eyeliner, and use my blonde/auburn eyebrow pencil to finish off my look.

"Wow, you actually look decent!" Says Ashley, as she sasses me.

I stick my tongue out at her.

"So, what kind of food does this cafe have?" I ask her as we step out of her apartment. She turns and locks the door behind us.

"Mostly breakfast foods, things you can take on the go. They do have a couple of salad options too."

"I'm looking for a breakfast sandwich and some delectable tea."

Walking down the stairs to the lobby, she says to me, "I don't know how high your standards are for tea, but they have the regular bagged teas. Earl Grey, green tea, and I think some kind of chamomile something-or-other. Nothing fancy."

I crinkle my nose.

"Their coffee, however..." she rolls her eyes to the sky and fans herself, as I open the lobby door for her to step outside. She motions for us to take a left out of the building.

"Don't need a boyfriend after drinking their coffee?"

"Oh no, I definitely still need him," she says, glowing as the sun hits the side of her face.

"Him? Him, who...?"

Ashley stops dead in her tracks in the middle of the sidewalk, causing her dark curls to bounce, her eyes wide. "About that... You'll meet him. Later today, actually, when we go see the new place."

My jaw hits the ground. "YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND, AND YOU DIDN'T BOTHER TO TELL ME?! When did this happen? When did you meet him? Where did you meet him? I NEED ANSWERS!"

Ashley throws her hands over my rambling shenanigans and shushes me.

"What the hell are you shushing me for? Is he a celebrity or something?"

"Well, yes. And no."

"Oh shit. Who is it, Ash? Do I know him?" I whisper.

"Yes. But we will talk more when we are alone."

She holds the door open to the cafe for me as I nod my head in silent agreement.

I ordered myself a cup of the worst green tea I've ever had in my life, along with a sausage, egg, cheese, and bacon on a heated croissant - which was slightly better than what you can get at Dunkin Donuts.

Ashley got herself a pan-fried English muffin with peanut butter and jelly on it, along with the biggest coffee they have to offer.

"A Nana-toasted sandwich?"

"Yup. I totally taught them how to make this, by the way," she says, very proud of herself.

"Why am I not surprised," I say as I walk outside and sit at a small table in front of the cafe.

Ashley follows suit and takes a giant bite out of her sandwich.

"Still a lady, I see," I say through a giggle.

"Itsh dewrischous!" She retorts with a full mouth, eyes big.

Ashley's phone pings and she looks down at the screen, which she has hidden under the table. A huge smile graces her face.

"Must be the mystery man," I tease, wiggling my eyebrows at her.

She grins at me. "Yes, he said he'll send a car to pick us up and bring us to the new place. He said to meet him down the little side street next to the cafe."

"Wow, nothing like being creepy."

"Well, he can't really be seen, so...."

"Celebrity, right. So, tell me about this mystery man."

"He's tall, has a darker skin tone, gorgeous eyes, and has a body of a God," she gushes.

"We talking like Bucky Barnes or Steve Rogers body?"

"Girl, if you crossed Thor and The Rock, the outcome still wouldn't be half as sexy."

I choke a bit on the sip of terrible tea I had just taken. I raise my eyebrows, "For real? What does he do? I mean, you said he's a celebrity, but..."

"For really, real. He's a martial artist. And a damn good one."

"How did you meet him?"

"We kind of saved each other?" She says with a raised eyebrow and an embarrassed smirk.

"Oh, gag me. When you put it like that, it sounds like you adopted him from the pound."

It's her turn to choke on her coffee.

"Funny story, actually. It had only been a couple of weeks since I moved here. I had gotten off of work after a double, and I was walking home in the dark when some jerk put his hand over my mouth and pulled me down a side alley. The guy had me pushed up against a wall with a knife against my throat, getting ready to have his way with me. The next thing I know, the creep is thrown from me, and I'm being helped up by this tower of muscles with beautiful eyes. As he's making sure I'm alright, the creepazoid got up and stabbed my savior, dragging the blade all the way down his left side - breast to hip. My man knocks creepy out, and I bring him up to my apartment and stitch him back together."

"Are you living in a goddamn fairy tale?"

She giggles, "I know, it sounds unbelievable, but it's true."

"I know. You couldn't lie to save your life," I smile at her. " But seriously, that sounds like some shit out of a superhero movie."

We finish our food and head down the little side street. A large black SUV pulls up from the opposite end of the road.

"Alright, you ready?" She asks nervously.

"Ashley, you aren't in any kind of trouble with the mafia or something, are you? Cuz I'm not sure I have enough bravado for that," I whisper to her.

She giggles and pulls open the door to the backseat. "No, silly, get in."

I cautiously climb into the back of the sketchy SUV and buckle my seatbelt, as Ashley does the same.

The back of the SUV has been gutted and completely remodeled to fit a lot of people. Or really big ones. It's set up similarly to a limousine where the driver is blocked off from the passengers in the back. The windows are completely blacked out so no one can see inside and so that we can't see outside. There's a string of purple fairy lights hung around the interior of the back, giving it a nice ambiance.

Ashley sits next to me quietly with her hands in her lap. Her phone pings again, and she reads her message.

She turns to look at me and says, "He won't be the only one meeting us there. He will have some of his family with him."

I nod, acknowledging what she said, unable to speak from apprehension about this whole new development.

*gu-gung* I feel the vehicle drive onto what I think is a metal platform. It starts moving vertically like we're going down in a big elevator.

"We're almost there," says Ashley with an apologetic smile on her face.

"I trust you, you know."

"I know. And you're the only one I can trust with what I'm about to introduce you to."

I squint skeptically at her but nod again, anyway. I decide to close my eyes and practice some of my breathing exercises.

"Hey," Ashley says as she gently places her hand on top of mine. "Everything is alright. You don't need to have a panic attack on me."

"Easy for you to say. I feel like I'm being transported to some underground laboratory, where I'm gonna be experimented on and never see the light of day again."

"Well, then it wouldn't be much different from your job, now would it?" She jabs.

I chuckle and relax a bit. She's not wrong.

The car stops, and Ashley opens the door and steps out. She waves her hand in a beckoning motion for me to get out of the backseat and join her.

I take a deep breath and slowly scoot out the door.

Ho. Ly. Shit.

Little Blue Hearts Master list Here

@leosgirl82 @turtle-babe83 @mysticboombox @chicchanmooshy @roxosupreme @whispers0fgreen @nittleboo @post-apocalyptic-daydream @xanadu702

*If you aren’t on this list, please let me know if you want me to tag you in my other work or if you prefer me to not tag you 😘

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itsthestutterforme · 3 years

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Worried Sick (Ransom Drysdale)

Summary: Ransom isn't much of the worrying type. But he gets worried about Y/N who has a cold and she pushes him away, not wanting to get him sick. He hated being away from you, so he invaded your home and took care off of you.

Notes: GIF is not mine, 10000% fluff

"You are such a dick, Ransom. 'Roid guzzler'? Really?" You retort, taking a bite of your English muffin that he bought for you after leaving the gym. Your personal trainer gave him an I'm-going-to-kick-your-ass look and Ransom being Ransom says, "Eat shit, 'roid guzzler."

"What? I can buy you whatever I want. And not like you need a personal trainer anyway, look at you." Ransom states. "First off all, I can hire a personal trainer if I want to hire a personal trainer. And second, I want to be a boxer so it only make sense to have a personal trainer."

"Oh, here we go again with the boxing shit. I told you you're not going to-" "And I told you that I do whatever the fuck I want, Ransom. I've wanted to be a boxer ever since I was a kid watching the Rocky movies." "If you come home with a busted face, I'm going to laugh in your face and say I told you so." He snarks.

"Then maybe I won't come home at all," you say, stopping in your tracks, searching his face for a reaction. He turn towards you and clenches his jaw angrily.

The relationship between you and Ransom is borderline dysfunctional. He's not your boyfriend but he's very possessive of you.

He shows his affection through buying you things and getting angry when you say bad things about yourself. He has no idea how to verbally say 'I care about you and I won't let anyone hurt you, including yourself'.

You met Ransom through Marta. You're actually her cousin and she's been ranting to you about the family she works for. But mainly she would talk about the trust fund brat known as Hugh and dreadful mother who birthed him.

When you came down to Boston to visit, Marta invited you to a party the Drysdale's were throwing. Naturally, you caught Ransom's eyes but the second you found out who he really was, you treated him like absolute garbage.

Marta only saw that part of you once, when you defended her on the playground against her bullies. And that's exactly what Ransom was, a bully. You knew exactly how to get rid of him. Or so you thought. You've never seen someone draw closer to the person treating him like dirt.

You decided to move to Boston to keep an eye on Marta and stay close to her side of the family. And when Ransom caught wind of that, he tracked you down with an hour and has been stopping by your job ever since. He would not quit until he got what he was looking for. You.

He was on the verge of giving up because you wouldn't budge for anything. You stood your ground because family is everything to you. If someone messed with one member of your family, they mess with the entire family.

But then you laughed at something he said. It was a terrible commentary that he made about your boss and you couldn't contain your laughter.

And now here you are, conversing with him about something you've wanted to do your entire life and him objecting because he knows you'll get hurt. It's crazy how people can grow into completely different people.

"Come on, we're going to be late." He states, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the Beemer.

The common cold was going around the work place so you knew you were bound the catch it at some point. But you didn't know it was going to hit you like this. You feel like an elephant is sitting on your chest the entire time and it made you snort like a pig.

Your nose was conjested and mucus was starting to build up in your throat so whenever you tried to take a deep breath, a loud snort would leave your lips. Marta comes into you room and sets some chicken noodle soup on the night stand before opening up her bag and pulling out some heating pads and some Tylenol.

"Have you been drinking water like suggested?" She asks. "I barely want to get of bed to use the bathroom. Let alone go to the kitchen to get some water."

"Y/N," she warns. "I know, I know. I'll try." You say nasally. "Okay. Take these with your soup." She instructs, setting the Tylenol pills on the saucer plate under the bowl.

She plugs in the heating pads and instructs you to sit up so she could put one on your lower back and the other on your shoulder blades. "If the coughing starts to get bad, put some Vicks on your chest okay?" You nod in agreement and she presses a soft kiss on your warm forehead.

"I'll be back in an hour. That is, if Ransom isn't already here. He's been calling your cell and your house phone, leaving angry messages on both." She says. "That asshole will be fine," you retort. "An asshole that cares about you. I thought I would never see the day." She teases.

"He literally wouldn't leave me alone since the party. He's like the gum that I can't get off my shoe." You say as a cough bursts in your chest. You cough I to your elbow and she rubs your back warmly.

"You literally have Boston's richest bachelor wrapped around your finger. And you've treated him like garbage since the day you met him." She says with a chuckle.

"Crazy how that happens." "I'll see you in an hour." She smoothes a hand over your hair and you sigh as the contact. "Thank you," "Of course, you're family." With that, she leaves but not before reminding you to eat the soup, take the Tylenol and the drink water again.

You groan as you sit up and lean your back against the headboard. Your muscles ache but you swallow the pain and grab the bowl of chicken noodle soup.

Setting the bowl in your lap, you take a few sips on the soup before popping the Tylenol in your mouth and swallowing it all in one gulp. You hum as the warm liquid trickles down your irritated throat.

Meanwhile, Ransom paces back and forth in his loft. You didn't sound well over the phone when you last spoke. And you haven't been answering his calls. Ransom thinks to himself. He's been fighting with himself. He hates how he turns into a prepubescent, desperate, whiny little boy when he doesn't hear from you in a while.

You two didn't end on the best of terms as he basically called you stupid for wanting to follow your dreams. But he had to make sure you were okay. On cue, a message from an unknown number texted him.

"Y/N has the common cold. She caught it from work.

-Marta"

Ransom's heart slows in relief that you were okay. He grabs his favorite pea coat and his keys to his Beeper before driving over to your place. Walking through the door, goosebumps riddle his skin. Ransom has been over your house countless times but he's never heard it so quiet and eerie.

"Y/N?" Ransom says, peeking his head into your room to see you with your head leaning back against the headboard, snorting as you slept. Your chicken noodle soup was still in your lap half eaten. The hum of your vibrating heating pad the only audible thing in the room besides your snorts.

He sighs deeply, rolling up his sleeves before walking into the room. He sits on the bed, making the entire left side sink. He catches the bowl of soup before it spilled on the bed and set it back on the night stand.

He gave you a look of surprise when you let out a huge snort. "That's just gross." He says and you eyes slowly peeled open. "Ransom, what are you doing here?" You ask, scooting away from him with a groan.

"I came to check up on you." He says, scowling at you for moving away from him. "I'm fine." "No, you look like shit." Your abdomen flexed as you cough ferociously in your elbow.

Whining at the lingering pain in your chest, Ransom reaches out to touch your back and you wince as your sweat soaked shirt touched your back.

"Go away, Ransom. I don't want to get you sick." You say, slapping his hand away. "I don't care," he says, pulling you closer to him despite your cries. He lifts you out of the bed and walked you into the bathroom. Your teeth chatters from the cold air and he sets you on the counter gently.

"You need to get out of these clothes and take a shower." He instructs but you fall forward and rest your head on his collarbone. "I don't have the energy to do anything," you croak. His heart skips a beat when you wrap your arms around his neck for stabilization.

"Do you want me to help you?" He asks and you nod lazily. Your raise your arms and he pulls your sweat stained shirt over your head. You unclip your bra and your breasts fall out of them. Ransom runs a hand over your back and you moan softly as his warm touch.

He pulls you off the counter and you pull your sweatpants down your legs, standing completely naked and fatigued. You slowly blink your eyes and the next thing you knew, he was stripped naked in front of you. He turns the shower on and waits for the water to warm up.

"This isn't what I had in mind when I would first see you naked. But it isn't a terrible start." "You try any, Drysdale and I will ruin you." He chuckles before lifting you into the shower. You sigh softly as the scorching hot water massages your skin. Ransom's steps into the shower and gently touched your arms.

You grab his hands and wrap them around your waist. As soon as his hands come into contact with the water, he winces and says, "Goddamn. What, the water is set to Hell, or something?" He pulls you into his chest and away from the water.

"Fine, I'll turn it down, you wuss." You taunt and you turn the water down slightly. Grabbing the body wash and loofa, you exfoliate your skin with the loofa. "There's a new loofa under the sink," you suggest but he just pulls you back into his chest and buries his face into your neck.

"I don't want to leave," he mumbles. "What's gotten into you, Ransom? What's with all of this affection?" You ask, turning around to face him.

"You scare me. You're like gravity, everything pulls towards you. I don't even recognize myself anymore." He admits. "And I'm done suppressing it. I feel more than just want. I need you." He adds.

"You sure you aren't the sick one?" You say with a chuckle, which was soon interupted by a sneeze. You step away from him and sneeze into your elbow. "You're definitely getting sick after this." He shakes his head and cups your cheeks before pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

"I don't care," he says, pulling away from you to rest his forehead on yours. "I'll add more chicken noodle soup to the grocery mobile order." He hums and pulls you back into his embrace.

"So, what? We're just going to kiss and cuddle each through the cold?" You retort. "Sounds like a good plan, right?" "You're such a dork,"

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #chrisevans #fluff

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show-choir-gal · 3 years

Text

How You Two Meet - Slashers Preference

Masterlist of Masterslists

Thomas Hewitt: You were walking by the house after escaping a potential assaulter You had been walking for what seemed like hours. You had sliced clothes and open wounds. You were shivering uncontrollably and your eyes were swollen from sobbing. It was dusk when you came across a lone farm house in the middle of who knows where. You were so tired from walking, the attempted assault, and crying. Your body was finally starting to give out. You started to trip over almost every little thing. A sheriff car rolled up behind you. "Hey there, I'm sheriff Hoyt. Are you lost?" The man said as he rolled down his window to talk to you. That was the last straw and your body finally let go and you fell to the ground crying. Hoyt got out of his car and grabbed you and placed you in the passenger seat. Once you two were parked by the farm house, Hoyt called for a woman as he grabbed you and carried you into the house. He placed you down on a chair in the kitchen and a woman came running in. "Oh gosh, what happened?" The woman asked as she looked at you then Hoyt. "I don't know, she was just walking when I found her." A man in a leather mask walked into the room and immediately he was drawn to you. He stared lovingly at the woman in front of him. "Thomas, please stitch this young lady up so she can get better." The woman said as she sent the man to fetch his supplies. "I'm Luda May. I think Thomas really likes you. He'll stitch you right up and I'll fetch you a glass of water and you can explain everything, alright?"

Bubba Sawyer: Your car broke down by the farmhouse You were driving down a long dirt road when all of a sudden your car started to make a strange noise. You tried to power through it but to no avail. The car slowly came to a stop and would not turn back on. You screamed at the top of your lungs. When you looked back to the scenery in front of you, you can see two men walking towards you. "Everything good?" One of them said. "M-my car just broke down." You replied. "Ah yes, that often happens on this road. I'm Nubbins." The second man said as he smiled. "I'm sorry miss, I should've introduced myself. I'm Drayton. Nubbins and his brother are pretty good at cars and can get you on your way in no time. Would you like to come into the house to get away from this dreaded Texas heat while they work on your car?" "That would be great actually. I really appreciate the help. I'm Y/N." Nubbins stayed behind and Drayton walked you to the house. "We have a guest!" Drayton yelled as he lead you around the house and then finally lead you to the living room where an old man and another man with a mask. You sat down as Drayton explained what happend. Every now and again the other man, named Bubba, was always seeming to be staring at you. As soon as Drayton left, the old man spoke up. "Could you help me into th-" He started to ask with a smirk. "No." Bubba declared, which startled you. The old man began laughing, "Bubba seems to really like you."

Michael Meyers: You were stalked during your babysitting Your parents were going to a Halloween party and called you to come and babysit your little brother. You drove from your college to your childhood house and greeted your family as they waited for you in the living room. They handed you $20 for dinner and kissed you and your brother goodbye. You two ordered some pizza and fries and hung out for a little bit until you looked at your brother and told him that he needs to do his homework. "But why?" He begged. "Because I don't want to be yelled at for letting you get away with not doing homework. Besides, I'll do homework with you so you're not alone. After we're both done we can bake some Halloween cookies, deal?" He took and your hand and shook it, "Deal." "Alright kiddo, we got this." You two finished your homework about an hour and a half later and then once that was cleaned up you two started on the cookies. The cookies finished baking and you took them out of the oven and put them on a cooling rack. "Yo, who is that? Is that a friend of yours?" Your brother asked as he looked back out the window. "What are you talking about?" "Look!" You looked out the window to find some person in coveralls and a pale white mask, "I have no idea who that is, they're probably just trying to scare us." You grabbed a sandwich baggie and put some cookies in it and grabbed a handful of candy that was meant for tomorrow and you opened the door and looked in the direction the person was originally standing. "Halloween is tomorrow asshole, but I like your spirit. Here's some candy and cookies for the night. Make sure you stay warm, it's a bit chilly out." You placed the items on a little stool on your porch, "Have a goodnight." You said before you went inside. Michael was hiding in the woods, but suddenly felt this warmth inside him when he witnessed your kindness and just not being scared or freaked out by him.

Brahms Heelshire: You were looking after Brahms (in doll form, obvi) This goes right along with the movie, but before Greta. Forget Greta even happened.

Jason Voorhees: You were renting a cabin for the summer You just wanted a nice and peaceful summer, so you rented a cabin right by the popular Camp Crystal Lake a few towns over. You pulled up to your cabin and took a little tour before you started to bring your bags inside. Unbeknownst to you though, while you were bringing your bags inside, Jason was watching you bring your bags inside. Jason would normally be observing to kill but, he was intrigued by you. You weren't loud and partying, you didn't dress in only sleazy tops and short shorts. You were by yourself, quiet, kept to yourself. He watched as you finished unpacking and sat on the front porch and...just started to read a book . The wind was blowing your hair out of your face and you were smiling gently to yourself. Jason really liked that about you. You were different to the people he killed, and he liked and appreciated different.

Billy Loomis: He saw you at the local coffee shop You had just moved to Woodsboro with your parents. You moved because your father found a better studio to write for and so you all moved with him. You weren't one to complain, this could be worse, it could be a lot worse even. Once the final moving boxes were put away, you kissed your parents goodbye and heading to find some nice places around the town. You found some nice boutiques and parks and a beautiful movie theatre but you came across a really cute coffee shop and chose to stop by. You ordered a latte and a muffin and started to subtly people watch. Your eyes were caught on a boy who was already looking in your direction. You smiled at him and he smiled back and you finished your latte and you left. Stu was going on and on about how he should make a move, but Billy just watched you as you left the shop, a smile never leaving his face.

Stu Macher: You were assigned as partners for a project This was the final English project before midterms and you were just hoping that you didn't do all the work again. Your teacher was assigning groups aloud when she called your name, "You're working with Stu Macher." Kids snickered and the teacher shushed them all and you just slung your head back. "If you can get him to do his work, I owe you a spa day." Your best friend whispered in your ear. "You just earned yourself a bet!" You exclaimed in a whisper as you held you hand out to shake. The project was a breakdown of a book turned movie and the differences between the two. Class eventually ended and you packed up your things and headed straight to Stu's locker. You spotted him and made your way over. "Hey Stu, we got assigned as partners for an English. We can talk about the project tomorrow in class. I chose Psycho for our project, I think I remember you talking about it a few times so I hope you don't mind. See you tomorrow." You said with a smile as you walked away to your own locker.

Bo Sinclair: You stop for gas at his gas station You were on your way to visit some friends and had to make a quick pit stop to use the restroom and get gas. You pulled into this run of the mill gas station and went inside to use the restroom. Bo had been staring at you since you pulled up but you brushed it off thinking that it's just his job. You walked out after washing your hands and grabbed a few snacks on the way to the counter. You placed your items in front of the gas station attendant - Bo. "What is a pretty young thing doing here today?" He asked with a smirk. "Just making a pit stop while heading to see some friends." You replied with a smile. "Well they must be lucky to have a friend like you. How much do you want on your pump?" "$17 please." "Snacks are on me, as long as you give me your number." He said with a wink. You blushed and wrote your number down on some receipt paper and handed it to him. You grabbed your snacks and headed out to your car and then started to fill it up.

Vincent Sinclair: Bo takes you home to kill you You were just chilling at the local bar when gas station attendant Bo started to strike up a conversation with you. You two hit it off pretty well so you two decided to ditch the grimy club and head over to his place. Bo was a gentleman and opened all the doors for you. He gave you a brief tour of his house and led you to the living room, he had you sit on the couch and he asked if you wanted anything to drink. You said you only wanted a water and he smiled and went to the kitchen but there was immediately some commotion. Vincent came out to see Bo's newest victim, but when he looked at you he fell head over heels for you. Bo didn't like this, but Vincent never felt this type of way for anyone so Bo gave up his blood thirsty ideas. He came back with some water and said, "My brother Vincent thinks you're pretty and wants to get to know you." Bo said with a smile

#slashers #slasher #slasher preference #thomas hewitt #bubba sawyer #michael meyers #brahms heelshire #friday the 13th #billy loomis #stu macher #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #preference #show-choir-gal

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atzaria · 3 years

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Comfort & Cuddles

masterlist

summary: wooyoung & aria fluff :)

note: i need a wooyoung in my life. and i promise there will be some drama soon.. it’s not goinf to be all sunshine and rainbows for our aria ;)

era: 2019

aria knew that it wasn’t going to be her day from the minute she woke up. an uncomfortable and painful feeling consuming her stomach, as well as being blessed with a pounding headache and nausea. the lovely side effects of being a person who happens to have a uterus, and therefore blessed with periods.

the second day of her monthly cycle was always the worst, and quite frankly all she wanted to do was eat chocolate and cry through the pain.

aria laid on the couch, a heat patch on her stomach and an episode of the ‘great british bake off’ playing on the tv.

“ariii?” wooyoung spoke in a soft tone, dragging the ’i’ as he walked into the living room. he hated seeing her like this, her face pale and often showing expressions of discomfort, and hearing her groan out in pain. she wasn’t like herself when she was on her period, so each member took it upon themselves to try and help her in the best way possible.

he crouched in front of her, trying not to get in the way of the television. “do you need anything? snacks, a drink? a new heat pad?” the girl shook her head, before mumbling a quiet thank you.

aria pondered for a moment, sitting up slowly and patting the space next to her. “so you want cuddles?” wooyoung laughed, sitting next to her and pulling the girl close. “you could’ve just said.” his hand made her way onto her hair, playing with it gently as he always does when cuddling her. although he is only older than her by 3 days, wooyoung couldn’t help but think of aria as a younger sister and always wanted to protect her.

he noticed how she watched the tv show with such interest, to the point where he was also intrigued and couldn’t help but put all his attention into it. wooyoung joked with her when something went wrong, and he may not have understood all that was being said, his basic level of english meant that he got somewhat of an idea. he’ll get her to translate it when she’s is feeling better.

it wasn’t until the programme ended, rather dramatically to wooyoung’s interest, that he noticed aria had dozed off into a sleep. he smiled, knowing that it meant that she wasn’t feeling as much pain anymore. “cute little muffin,” he smiled, placing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

#ateez 9th member #9th member of ateez #ateez ninth member #ateez addition #ateez oc #ateez female oc #ateez female addition #ateez female member #kpop female addition #kpop female oc #kpop imagines #kpop oc #kpop addition #ateez #atzaria #era.2019

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velvetmel0n · 4 years

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No More Than a Name For Yearning

Summary: It’s a late night at the office when the tension becomes too much.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6.5k+

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, vaginal fingering, a threesome (tag teaming?? idk man they take turns), Javier and Carrillo being competitive? penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, egregious use of italics and em dashes, exhibitionism and voyeurism? little bit of dom!Carrillo, Javier smoking as per usual, mutual pining, angst

A/N: let’s hope I didn’t overhype this lmao. Special thanks to @tintinwrites and her knowledge of musicals for the title💕

@damerondjarin @mandoplease @tintinwrites @poeticandors @darksideofclarke @futzingorchids @pascalplease @glowingpena @ollypopp @yougottakeeponkeepinon @bisexual-space-slut @agentpike @mylifeliterally @pedropasscals @huliabitch @winters-buck @hystericalmedicine @watsonwise @1zashreena1 @chelsfic @halfwaythereroyal @leahsafae @qveenbvtch @maxlordd @acomplicatedprofession @bobafvtt @propertyofdindjarin @milleniumvalcon @the-bird-suit @girlpornparadise @okay-murdocks @slfreya @aellynera @duamuteffe @ah-callie @bookshelvesandteacups @woakiees @himbopoes @shadow-assassin-blix @thedevilwearsvibranium @littleferal @veuliee2 @mserynlarsen @lesqui @softpedropascal @writefightandflightclub @catfishingmorales

“I’m done.” Steve’s voice, all Southern hospitality and exhaustion, breaks you out of the haze you’re in and have been in for the last two hours, English and Spanish swimming before your eyes and you smile up at him reflexively, grateful for the distraction, however small it is. It had been a bad day for everyone, bad intel and a bad raid and now you’re stuck shifting through mountains of files, looking for where you went wrong and the next plan of attack. “Do you want a ride?”

“I’m good, I want to work on this a bit more,” You say confidently, trying for a tone and an expression that says ‘I’m staying because I want to finish this, not because I don’t want to be alone yet’ while his blonde eyebrows knit together high on his forehead. Your smile doesn’t crack under the weight of the energy he’s putting out, brotherly and almost concerned as his eyes flick towards the only other people in the office with you; Javier and Carrillo.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” You snort when Javier waggles his eyebrows dramatically at you over a stack of his own files to go through. “Javi’ll take me home,” You say because he will. You don’t have a car, having wanted to save money and not fully grasping the inherent dangers of being a DEA agent who relies on public transport in the middle of Escobar’s territory before you had moved here.

You’d started saving the second week of living in Colombia, but somewhere along the way it had become less of a pressing issue and more of an afterthought as you fell into the rhythm of jumping into Steve’s car as he swung by on his way into work or pounding on Javier’s door, just down the hall from your own with some sort of baked good in your hands as the customary bribe.

“You sure?” He’s giving you another chance, another out, because it’s late and it’s hot and his nerves are probably still frayed just like everyone else’s who aren’t showing it and he no doubt thinks you need a break just as much as he does.

“I’m a big girl, Steve. I’ll be fine,” You turn a page, sending him the message that yes, you’re staying. You’ll wait Javier out, promising him some muffin or cookie you’d picked up from the store, crumbly and too sweet but he gobbles them down anyways.

“Oh—kay,” He drawls out, sounding unconvinced but he’s picking his jacket up from where it’s been laying on his desk. “You crazy kids don’t have too much fun now,” He digs his keys from his pocket as he walks out and the hollow slam of the door shutting behind him doesn’t shake anyone.

And it takes a moment for the gravity of what you’ve just done to sink into you, how you’ve just stranded yourself on a desert island of paperwork and intel. How you’re trapped between the two men you think about late at night when you’re alone and hungry, now hunched over one singular desk with them and your mouth goes dry.

Your skin prickles and some part of you thinks that this might be better; better than the stress of the day and the frustration that rises in your blood every time you have to ask one of them to translate for you because cartel slang isn’t taught in any class and at least Carrillo tells you. You’ll tilt the paper at him and point and he leans close, brows heavy over his sharp eyes and he’ll say it once in English, only once and his tone is equal parts exhaustion and frustration but it’s enough.

Javier is more of a bastard about it. The way he smirks every time you ask him for anything, smooth and suggestive and asking what you’ll do for him as payment and as much as it gets on your nerves you can’t help but rise to it, batting your eyelashes and threatening to do one thing or another which of course never fazes him. It helps soothe the more ragged edges of your nerves, falling back on the familiar rhythm of your friendship, the push and pull wrapping around your shoulders like a security blanket.

You both know that you’ll each fall apart in your own way as soon as goodnights have been said and your apartment doors have closed, but that’s a problem still hours away. It’s a problem you’ll deal with alone in your bed, hugging your pillow and wishing you had someone warm and solid sharing your bed because you could attach yourself to them somehow you think. Anchor your body to theirs, to reality, so you don’t float off into nightmares.

Carrillo seethes beside you, quiet and his mouth set in a hard line but you still find yourself wanting to reach out to him. It’s stupid but you want to reach out and smooth your hands over him, want to bleed the tension form his body because he carries too much of it and he can’t bury it under innuendos and harmless flirting like Javier can, like you’ve learned to.

You think about it sometimes, what might happen if you acted on your desires with the Colonel. You know what will happen with Javier if you ever take him up on the offer, one that’s stood since your first week here. You’ll know that he’ll treat you right, that he’ll take you out of your head and take you apart piece by piece. Maybe he’ll even put you back together again and you can’t deny that you’ve been thinking about it more and more lately.

But Carrillo is a puzzle and maybe that’s why you keep thinking about him as much as you do, maybe you want to take him apart just as much as you want Javier to do the same to you. You want to know what it’s like to have all that energy focused on you, intense and bordering on obsessive. All consuming.

The next exhale is shaky and you realize you need to stop before you start staring at them, at the way Carrillo’s shoulders fill out his uniform or catch Javier’s profile out of the corner of your vision, the way his mouth twists with displeasure underneath his mustache. You need to stop before you start thinking about what that mustache will feel like against your skin or how tight Carrillo’s grip on you would be.

You try to bury yourself back in the files and grainy photographs, trying to ignore the ache between your thighs and you realize that you were wrong, that this is worse.

The next hour passes in a haze, steeped in frustrations and stress and an insidious kind of tension, the air plucked taut like a bow string. You’ve untucked your blouse and have already undone the first button but you’re reaching for the next two barely ten minutes later and you don’t know if you’re overheated from the weather or the look you’d seen Javier give you when you reached for your collar the first time, thick eyes slid over to you and following the motions of your fingers. You think Carrillo might be watching you, too— see his head tilt from the corner of your eye, see his fingers still as they turn a page. You keep going, slipping the buttons from their closures and maybe you make more of a show than you should of opening your collar. Of fanning yourself and slipping your hand underneath your shirt to rub your shoulder.

No one says a word and you keep your eyes fixed on the ones in front of you, absently kneading your own shoulder as you wait for their eyes to slide away, for the moment to pass because it feels like it’s clogging your throat.

“Need a hand?” Javier raises his eyebrows, points his chin at the one you have stuck up your shirt, your fingers squeezing at the knot that’s formed and you snort. It splinters the tension enough that you can breathe.

“In your dreams, Peña,” Because the last thing you need right now is for him to touch you, the rasp of his fingers over your smooth skin with Carrillo watching the entire thing, less than three feet away. Your stomach clenches at the thought, a traitorous thrill forcing its way up your spine and you dig just a little too far into the tendon and a noise slips from your lips.

You expect Javier to call you out on it, on the way the sound just...flows out, low and keening but pitched up towards the end and you don’t breathe. You don’t know if anyone breathes because it’s like you’re the only three people awake right now. The only three people alive and the glow of the streetlights outside is pulsing and hazy as it slips through the cracks in the blinds and it’s making you feel like you’re in a fever dream, like suddenly all the consequences of bad decisions, of feeding the monster in your gut are going up in the smoke that bleeds from Javier’s cigarette.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t and neither does Carrillo and your breath shakes itself out of you, your fingers smoothing over the tendon you had just curled into and you have half a mind to go home, to try and call Javier off the hunt so you can curl up in your own bed and try to sleep off the stress and the heat, the thoughts that keep rising to the surface.

The sound of Carrillo yanking a drawer open drags you out of the daydream that’s trying to coalesce and you see him pull the bottle out; think that the frustration must be getting to him. You can’t blame him for it.

“I hope you’re planning on sharing, Carrillo,”

Because there’s something to be said for warm alcohol and the way it burns the whole way down like it’s holding a grudge. You don’t know what it is— it’s something clear and biting that smells like window cleaner when Carrillo unscrews the cap and passes it to you, the bottle half drunk already and the thought is dim in the back of your mind that the Colonel himself must’ve done this dozens of times before, that your lips are wrapping around the very same rim as his must have as you swallow a mouthful and try your best not to grimace. Your lips tingle on contact and you know whatever it is it’s strong, probably enough to fuzz your better judgement.

You’re already passing it to Javier when you see him reaching for it, fingers hungry in the way they wrap around the bottle. He gulps, bares his teeth at the taste and holds it out to Carrillo who swallows a mouthful of what you suspect to actually be paint stripper without blinking. Rinse, repeat.

The alcohol loosens your tongues and before you know it Javier is cluing you in on the things that are said behind your back, when you’re not in the room. Warning you about a young agent who’s been making noise about asking you out, maybe getting you in bed and you can’t help it.

You chuckle and the words rise unbidden to your tongue, spurred on by a combination of alcohol and stress, of sleep deprivation and the oppressive heat. You don’t realize your mistake until a second after the words are out of your mouth and you can feel your stomach drop to the floor.

“I’d rather fuck you grumpy bastards,”

Because it’s just as much about the wording, how you said it as much as it’s about the fact that you said anything at all. You’d rather fuck them. Not either, not one of. You’d rather fuck them.

“What was that?” There’s a change in Javier’s voice, some new chord resonating in the air and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Carrillo drinks slowly from the bottle and you can see his throat working, his Adam’s apple bobbing and he’s looking at you with intent. It makes you want to squirm.

“I— I just mean if I had to choose, between you and Miller I mean, I’d— I would choose you,” You fumble it and you know it. You’re not looking at either of them, eyes staring down at the files still on the desk because you feel warm and prickly all over, trying to keep your breathing even because you’re spiraling. You’re afraid; afraid of their reactions, if they’ll snort and reject you after all and afraid of what will happen if word gets out. The fear tangles with arousal in your gut, as exhilarating as it is confusing and no one is saying anything.

You see motion out of the corner of your eye, a large hand gripping the back of your neck a moment later and he almost pulls you out of the chair with his urgency to crash your lips against his own— Carrillo. You melt into the kiss, welcome his tongue into your mouth and you’re abundantly aware of the fact that Javier is just on the other side of you, that you’re being watched.

Your breathing shallows and it’s like you have a fever you’re so hot, drinking down every bit of attention that’s being lavished on you between Carrillo’s mouth on yours and Javier’s hands, sliding around your middle and squeezing your sides before you feel him crowding further into your personal space. It’s already verging on too much for you, too many things happening at once and not going to stop until you’re boiled down to a creature of lust and sensation and nothing else.

Carrillo keeps one hand in your hair while he eats at your mouth, keeping you in place for him while his other drops to your thigh, palming it before he slides his hand down to your knee and holds, stopping you from creating any friction for yourself before you could even try. You whine and Javier’s even closer than before, covering your neck with kisses now and his mustache tickles enough to have you trying to recoil from it, chills sweeping throughout your body and his chuckle dark in your ears.

Carrillo’s teeth drag over your bottom lip at the same time Javier starts to unbutton the rest of your shirt, his hand deft and seeking as it slips underneath the fabric, his other mirroring Carrillo with the way it grips the meat of your thigh. You whine, trying to grasp Javier’s shirt in an effort to ground yourself or to pull him closer you aren’t entirely sure because all you know is their hands on you and the ache that’s burning you up inside, the taste of the alcohol on Carrillo’s tongue as it sweeps through your mouth.

Your shirt flutters to the floor in a soft heap and Javier’s attention stays on your chest for what feels like ages, palming your breasts through your bra while Carrillo’s head dips, mouthing along your jawline and down your throat, and in that moment you want nothing more than to feel his teeth. To have him suck marks into the fragile skin that you can look at in the morning to make sure this isn’t some fever dream brought on by the heat and frustration because you feel like you’re being melted down between the two of them and reshaped into something new, something hungry and aching and empty.

A hand trails from your chest and down your stomach while teeth scrape along your neck, your shoulder, and you almost hold your breath when you feel the button of your jeans being fiddled with. A whine builds in your throat, a sharp sound undercutting it and sending a jolt through your body when the Colonel smacks Javier’s hand away before he could slip it inside your pants. Your eyes flutter open for the first time since this all started, just in time to see the way Carrillo’s jaw clenches, hostility or just plain competitiveness you can’t be sure belying the heat in his eyes as he glares at the other man.

It shouldn’t turn you on— you know it shouldn’t, having him snapping over you like that, like you’re a new favorite toy he’s loathe to hand over but you can’t deny the way you squirmed, either, heat curling in your gut at the thunderous look on his face. And then Javier is huffing and for one insane moment you’re afraid that he’s going to give up without a fight, that he’s going to stop.

But then he’s turning your head towards him, wrenching you away from Carrillo so your chest is pressed against his own and he can have his fill of your lips. His kiss is different from Carrillo’s— the bristles of his mustache tickle and it’s less like an onslaught but no less heated, his groan sinking right down into your bones.

Carrillo’s fingers make quick work of your jeans and you almost leap out of your skin at the first touch, thick fingers slipping underneath the band of your underwear and dragging through your soaked folds.

You moan into Javier’s mouth, the sound ripped from the back of your throat and you hear one of them chuckle— self satisfied and almost mocking and you want to snap at them and call them names, want to regain the edge you maintain so carefully in this line of work but you can’t. You can’t because Javier’s teeth are scraping along your jawline now and his hand is working its way underneath your bra to start thumbing over your nipple, the edge of his nail against the sensitive skin making a chill skate through your body and Carrillo— he’s— he’s rolling the rough pads of his fingers over your clit, using enough pressure to make your thighs jerk and the insults wither on your tongue.

Then it’s your hands that are moving, unclenching from their shoulders to follow the lines of their torsos down, down, down and the scrape of chairs across the floor is loud and disjointed as they’re yanked closer. Half of you wants to take your time, to explore the both of them at your leisure and finally have your fill of each, to run your hands along their bodies and kiss each of their scars but the other half of you is louder. The other half of you is greedy. Impatient.

You smooth your palms along the front of their pants, reveling in the feel of their cocks twitching through the fabric and how Javier’s breath hisses through his teeth, how Carrillo drops his head to your shoulder and squeezes the inside of your knee, his fingers stuttering against you. It’s heady, knowing that they both want you like this and holding evidence of their arousal in your hands and you can’t help but stroke them, biting down on a grin when a moan works itself from Carrillo’s chest.

Javier recovers first and pulls you until your body is fully facing him, hunching over you with his fingers working at the closure of your bra, mouth trailing down your throat. Carrillo huffs behind you but he doesn’t pull you away, not yet. Instead he shifts closer, close enough for you to sag into the solid mass of his chest because his fingers are moving again, slipping lower and teasing your entrance, circling and only barely dipping the tip of one inside. At the same time Javier’s mouth is engulfing one of your nipples and sucking, teeth glancing off of it and you don’t know whose name to moan, writhing between the two of them and trying to get a grip on Javier’s hair.

Your other hand is still over Carrillo’s cock and you squeeze, a whine bursting from your lips because of course the bastard was waiting for that, waiting for just the right moment to slide one of his thick fingers home while Javier laves across your chest, licking and sucking at your tender flesh. “Fuck,” Your voice is high and reedy and you feel like you can’t breathe. It’s the first word you’ve spoken during this entire thing, whatever it is, whatever it’s going to turn into, and you think you feel Carrillo’s lips pull into something sharp that might be a grin against your cheek when he starts to move.

The angle means the heel of his hand is bumping into your clit and his pace is a cruel thing; dark and twisting and somehow it’s too much and not enough all at once and your head is spinning from it. You hear him in your ear, speaking low and soft and his praises are clogging your throat. Encouragements, teasing when he asks you if you want more, can take more because he knows you can, that you want it because you’re good for him, aren’t you? For them?

And Javier is murmuring his agreements against the pillow of your breast, dragging his teeth along your nipple and you think if it’s possible for a human being to go up in flames you would right at this moment, trapped between the two of them with no buffer, with nowhere to go.

“Need more already?” Javier’s voice is thick like honey, almost gloating as he picks his head up from your chest, taking in how it rises and falls in time with your rapid breaths, shining from his mouth underneath the fluorescent lights. His eyes drop lower and he can’t see you, not with Carrillo’s hand in the way and the thick denim of your jeans still biting into your thighs, but he can hear you, slick and obscene with little whimpers falling from your lips like you’re trying to stay quiet because you are. It’s not working, but you’re trying.

“Javi—” Your voice tilts up at the end, high and whining and you don’t know how much more of this you can take. You feel like you’re melting down, burning up from the inside out and you can’t remember if you’ve ever felt like this before. If you’ve ever felt this on edge, coiled up tight and vibrating with this much tension, if it’s because you’ve been wanting each of them for months now, if it’s because they’re both here with you. Both watching you, both stringing you out further and further and pulling you in different directions. Each trying to get their fill of you before the other.

And maybe you’re asking for Javier because Carrillo is cruel, working you with his fingers but never giving you quite enough, working you up and up and up. Like he wants to see how far can push you, if he can make the need swallow you whole. You know he can, that for all your wanting to take him apart piece by piece he can do the same to you, is doing the same to you just as you know Javier will show you more mercy.

Javier reaches for you, curls his hands in your jeans and pulls them down over your knees and maybe he meant to pull them off, to get you naked in the middle of the office but his eyes catch on the way Carrillo’s finger is sinking into you over and over again. The way he gives you another and how you still when he does, your breath stuttering.

You almost don’t feel the way Carrillo hooks his chin over your shoulder to watch for himself because you can’t think over how his fingers feel, thick and heavy and buried up to the knuckle and you whine. You whine because he’s just holding them there, seemingly content to just feel the way your cunt is squeezing around them, the way your thighs are shaking and listening to you crying in his ear.

You hand fists in the material of his pants, your other digging your nails into Javier’s shoulder and you use them for leverage, rolling your hips on Carrillo’s fingers. Someone groans, ragged and strung out and for terrifying seconds you think that they’re going to leave you like this. Leave you to fuck yourself on his fingers without any help.

But Javier doesn’t last that long.

Javier doesn’t last that long before he’s reaching for you all over again, pulling you away from Carrillo and you almost protest, almost call him a bastard for cutting off what little stimulation you’re managing to eek out for yourself but then he’s pressing you up against the desk and you forgive him.

You try to brace yourself on the desk, hands slipping on file folders and you look back, over your shoulder because you can hear his belt jangling, loud against the background of hurried breathing and arousal-softened voices. You don’t see it but Carrillo leans back in his chair, sucking your slick off his fingers and thinking about eating you alive even while he watches Javier line himself up with your weeping cunt, the way his head leans back as he pushes in, the way you go still. The way your chin drops to your chest and how you rock your weight onto your hands, spine curving when his hips meet yours.

Javier isn’t moving, not yet, and Carrillo almost feels sorry for you because another of those whines is falling out of your mouth, soft and needy and you lick your lips before you speak, begging him to move and so he does. They both do.

Javier’s hands curl around your hips and he starts to thrust as Carrillo stands, rounding the desk and his lips might pull into something crueler than a smile but pleased nonetheless when you reach for him, a moan on your lips. He lets you fumble with his belt and untuck his shirt with shaking hands and his chest swells with a twisted pride, that you can be filled with another man’s cock and still reach for him.

It goes to his head a little bit while he watches you, glassy eyes fluttering and your hands slipping. Your head drops to his shoulder with a high pitched moan, your hips rolling back, and that’s when he grabs your face, his fingers pressing into your jaw, lifting your head and forcing you to look at him.

It’s too much, you realize, trying to remember how to breathe while you stare into Carrillo’s face. His nostrils are flared and his eyes are swallowed up by his pupils, and he’s not looking away. Your breath is puffing into his face and you’re trying to keep your eyes open, you are— but Javier’s cock keeps dragging through your walls, catching on something bright and sharp and it’s almost enough.

You don’t realize that you keep closing your eyes until Carrillo is almost throttling you, tightening his fingers on either side of your jaw, the meat of his palm pressing against your windpipe and tomorrow you’ll feel embarrassed at the pathetic sound that leaves your throat. How you sway towards him, his "look at me” ringing in your ears, soft and biting all at once.

Javier hunches over you then and you feel his teeth in your shoulder, feel the rasp of his mustache on your skin. Carrillo’s shoulders move but you don’t look, don’t let yourself get distracted from the way he’s looking at you like— like—

You don’t know because Javier’s hand is moving, slapping Carrillo’s away before he can touch you and you see the muscle in his jaw tick before you crumple, would have spilled across the desk if his grip wasn’t holding you up because Javier is slipping his hand between your shaking thighs.

Your hands fist in the material of Carrillo’s shirt, your quest to get his belt undone long since falling by the wayside and being replaced by focusing on the way your nerve endings are lighting up under Javier’s fingers, buzzing and firing and the knot in your belly bursts, thick and sweet like syrup. You sob into Carrillo’s shoulder, bearing down on Javier’s cock and he groans behind you, ragged and grating.

But he doesn’t let you enjoy it, not really. Because the next moment he’s pulling away from you and you feel so empty you could almost cry, shaking yourself apart against Carrillo’s chest, dense and warm and the part of your brain that’s still functioning wishes you could feel his skin on your own. You don’t get the chance to dwell on it, on Carrillo’s hands and his arms, the feel of his torso through his shirt because the next thing you know liquid is splashing across your lower back, hot and dripping and you shudder right down to your bones.

“Fuck,” Javier sounds as wrecked as you feel and you can hear him pant, the air whistling over his teeth but the ache between your thighs isn’t fading away. If anything it’s getting worse as you try to pull yourself back together, trembling against Carrillo’s body because you don’t necessarily trust yourself to stand on your own quite yet and apparently neither does Javier, rolling his forehead on the space between your shoulder blades.

After a few moments he straightens and you feel his eyes on you as clearly as you do his hand, stroking down your side and squeezing your hip. He starts digging through the desk then, opening and shutting drawers until he finds what he’s looking for, wiping his cum from your skin with what you assume to be an extra shirt Carrillo keeps in his desk, always prepared.

Your fingers unclench from the shirt he’s wearing, sliding over his stomach to pull on his belt because you aren’t satisfied, won’t be until you know what it feels like to make him fall apart right along with you. You mouth at his neck, slipping your palm into the front of his khakis after you conquer the buckle and zipper.

“You’re breaking my heart, baby,” Javier sits back in one of the abandoned chairs, his voice hoarse and colored with exertion, and if you didn’t know any better you might think he’s serious, that his feelings are well and truly bruising with your efforts to get in Carrillo’s pants, still greedy for more after he had his turn with you.

“Fuck off, Javier,” You say it without any real venom against Carrillo’s skin and the other man might have barked out a chuckle, bared in his teeth in something that might have been a grin, but the only thing you can focus on is the way Carrillo groans when you close your fingers around his cock and stroke. You want to hear it again and again, want to have it vibrate through you while he’s pressed impossibly close.

He’s a sight as he pulls himself away from you, his uniform shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, unbuttoned now and his undershirt wrinkled from your fingers, his jaw set and you have to turn, all loose limbed and soft as you seat yourself on the desk, able to finally peel your jeans the rest of the way off and spreading your thighs in blatant invitation. He takes it, slotting his hips between your knees and wrenching you to him and you’re able to wind your arms around his wide shoulders like you’ve been craving to.

You rub yourself against him, your breath catching in your throat from how your sensitized cunt slips across the coarse fabric and it almost hurts, sharp and corrosive in the way it floods through you, dissolving in its wake. But you can’t stop, chasing after the pleasure with a whining moan because he’s just watching you, eyeing the slowly growing wet spot on the front of his underwear because of it and you squeeze your thighs around him, trying to spur him on.

"Horacio,” The name slips out unbidden, tinged with something you can’t describe and it’s the magic word. He huffs as if he’s coming back to himself, as if he’s realized that he can move, that you really do want this despite the circumstances. Despite Javier watching with rapt attention and a fresh cigarette.

He doesn’t make you let go of him, doesn’t make you pull him out because you’re clinging to him so sweet and nice and purring for him that he can’t imagine it and you’re grateful. Actually grateful that you can keep yourself wound around him, touching and tasting like you’ve thought about for months now, raking your fingers through his short hair and arching against him until you’re balancing on the very edge of the desk, his arms the only things keeping you from slipping right off.

And then you’re being split open.

You warble something that might have been his name, choking on it and you scramble at his shoulders for a better grip. He groans deep in his chest, rough and filthy as his head drops to your neck and it’s overwhelming. You want to blame it on the fact you’ve already cum, that you’re still overly sensitive from Javier because he’s making you feel better than he has any right to as harsh as he is, as stone faced. As mean.

But then his hand is slipping between your thrusting bodies and he’s anything but, unerringly finding your clit and it’s almost embarrassing. It’s almost embarrassing how hard your body jerks, grinding into his calloused fingers while he breaks you apart, your cunt pulsing around him as he keeps up the onslaught, hips snapping into yours.

You cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, his back, as the pleasure sweeps through you, glimmering and razor sharp and you say his name again, only this time mewling and shattered. And it’s the combination of everything that does him in; your cunt fluttering around his cock, your voice in his ear saying his name like that, you trying to pull him infinitely closer. He grunts as he spills himself within you, the sound strangled and you can’t help but gather his face in your hands to pull it to your own, slanting your lips against his and drinking it down.

Your thighs are quivering as you pant into each other’s mouths, Carrillo almost languidly stirring his cock in you as you both come down. You didn’t expect it— didn’t expect any of this to actually come to fruition, to exist somewhere outside of your mind and the four walls of your bedroom but here you are. The smoke from Javier’s cigarette hangs in the air and Carrillo— Horacio, now, is nosing underneath your jaw, staying right where he is and kissing the salt from your skin. If an ache wasn’t blooming between your legs, in your thighs and your hips you don’t know if you’d believe it happened at all, letting the memories turn hazy in the sunlight that’s only a few short hours away.

But it is and when you blink your eyes open you see Javier looking at you with an unreadable expression, flicking his eyes to Horacio and back again and a different heat starts to suffuse your body, this one prickling and bordering on uncomfortable. That’s when you unlock your ankles from behind Horacio’s back, your heart slipping into a nervous rhythm and you don’t want to press your palms into his shoulders and apply pressure, telling him to move without so many words but you do because you can’t take it.

Can’t take the way Javier is looking at you, can’t take how much you want Horacio to stay, to wonder and find out if he stays as gentle as this when the fog clears from his head.

You can’t take the way he’s looking at you either as he shifts, following the directive of your hands and you swallow the gasp that tries to burst from your mouth when his cock slips from you. You weren’t expecting this either, how bereft you feel without him filling you up, without him in your arms if you’re being honest with yourself. You can’t even blame it on the alcohol, not really. None of you had drank that much, the bottle still not empty after being passed between the three of you and now on its side, knocked over at some point from your combined haste but miraculously unbroken as it lays there on the corner of the desk, liquid pooling on the linoleum below.

Javier is the one who sees it first and throws Horacio’s crumpled, used shirt on the caustic puddle while you’re pulling your jeans up, dressing as if your clothes could become your shield from the emotions that are trying to flay you alive.

“Are you okay?” It’s Horacio who asks how you are while you button your blouse, his voice gruff and threaded with something that’s going to haunt you.

“I’m good, I promise,” You try for a light smile, like you’re not turned inside out, like you won’t keep thinking about this for the rest of the night and maybe into the day when you have to pretend like everything is fine, that nothing has changed.

Javier throws the shirt onto the desk then and it hits with a wet plop that makes you cringe. You see Horacio’s mouth thin, any traces of the softness from just moments ago bleeding away and you want it back.

But it will have to wait for another time, maybe a better time or none at all because Javier is crushing the end of his cigarette into an ashtray and picking his leather jacket off the back of a chair, looking at you expectantly because he knows you can’t refuse him, not without revealing anything. “Ready to go?” And maybe Horacio has some inkling about the arrangement, gleaned from comments that have piled up over the weeks and months but maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he thinks you’re going home with the agent, not bumming a ride to the same apartment building because you were naïve and are now complacent.

You nod, looking again at Horacio and running your eyes over him, as if you don’t want to forget how he looks in this moment despite everything. His uniform a mess, cock tucked back into his pants but his belt staying unbuckled for the moment and for one second, one harebrained second, you think about kissing him. Just kissing him, just a peck— just enough for him to maybe know.

But you don’t.

“Goodnight, Horacio,” Your lips wrap around the syllables, turning his name into something gentle as you drift towards the door after Javier.

The Colonel nods and you think you might see his lips part but the shadows make it impossible to tell and you don’t know what’s in his eyes either, just know that they feel heavy on your skin. Javier calls your name and you finally look away before you do something even more stupid than anything else you’d done tonight.

The door closes behind you and he knows you can’t hear him but he says it anyways, alone and looking at the door like you’re going to walk back in.

“Goodnight.”

#javier pena x reader #horacio carrillo x reader #javier pena x reader x horacio carrillo #javier pena x you #narcos smut #narcos fic #horacio carrillo x you #if you listen closely you can hear my hs english teacher screaming at all the run on sentences

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couchpotatoaniki · 3 years

Text

One Year ❣︎ Three: The Execution

Chapter Summary: Trying to cool off, you decided to spend the day by yourself. This couldn’t have gone any better for San’s plan.

Pairing: Mafia!San x Fem!Reader Genre: Mafia AU, fluff, angst, eventual smut, lotta crack and stupid shit ngl Chapter warnings: swearing, stalking, kidnapping Word count: 2.5k+ A 365 Days parody

Previous: Chapter Two For the rest of the series, click here

Speech in bold means they’re talking in Korean

Speech in italics is whatever the reader wants their native langue to be that’s not Korean or English

Speech without either means they’re talking in English

Buzzing came from your pocket, initially thinking your phone got a notification until it continuously vibrated. Yunho was calling you.

“Yo, where are you? Mingi told us what happened between you and Dom--and before you say anything, he’ll be having hell to pay, regardless of whether you approve or not.”

Chuckling, you sighed as you looked at your surroundings. “Fine by me. Do what you like to him.” Slowing down in front of a cute-looking coffee shop, you answered his first question...partially. “Just taking a stroll in the town.”

“Wanna be left alone?” You hummed as you entered the establishment, being hit with wafts of bakes goods. “Very well then. But we’re gonna hunt you down if you’re not back by midnight.”

“M’kay, Pops,” mumbling absent-mindedly while overlooking the menu on the screens above the counter.

You couldn’t see the gentle bitter smile on his face, knowing very well that you weren’t as stone-cold as the façade you masked yourself in. Had an idea that you just needed space. “Alright then. Look after yourself.”

“You too.”

Beeping over the line indicated to you that he had hung up. Shoving your phone back into your coat pocket, you let your feet carry you to the till, where a young teenager dressed in a pale blue polo shirt and evergreen apron on top greeted you with a nervous smile.

Must have been new, or had some sort of social anxiety, from the way they avoided your eyes and fidgeted with their hands. “U-Um, hello. Welcome... What would you like?” the taller kid practically whispered, but you caught on to their words.

Sending a soft, warming smile, you answered, “can I have a buttered croissant with a mango and passionfruit iced tea, please? Actually, would you mind adding a chocolate muffin to that too?”

Nodding, they tapped the till, pressing various buttons before saying, “that’ll be 6,500 won, please.”

Pulled out your wallet and paid the employee. As you sat down, waiting on your order, you began to reminisce from when you used to be that age too--then again, it was not hard at all since it wasn’t too long ago.

Seven years ago, you were only 16, enjoying life just before things took a turn you never expected and you were never the same air-headed, happy-go-lucky kid you once were.

All you needed at the time was someone who was kind, who gave you a breath from the onslaught you faced all around you. Mingi was probably the only reason you’re still alive.

Thinking about the old days did more damage to you than you’d like to believe, but almost seemed impossible with the Dominic situation.

Being betrayed again hurt like hell, and although he wasn’t as bad as what you had experienced, he still broke your trust. Trust you tried to rebuild after all you went through the last time.

Thoughts you spent so long trying to get rid of grew back like weeds of the concrete walls you put up five years ago.

And despite what you tried to convince yourself and Mingi, you actually really liked the guy.

“Here you go, miss,” the young employee mumbled as he placed a tray with your order on it. Almost everything was right, except that there was a vanilla and chocolate chip muffin instead of a complete chocolate one.

Oh well, a muffin’s a muffin.

“Thank you,” you grinned, handing the teenager a tip of 10,000 won.

Their eyes widened at your strange generosity before hesitantly taking the money you held out between your index and middle fingers.

Your lips wrapped around the straw as you took a sip of your ice-cold drink. Strong tones of mango, with a hint of passionfruit, slight sweetness from honey and faint tang of fresh lemon.

Iced tea was something you had grown to love over the past five years, first time being too bitter and flavourful for you. Then again, the events prior left a bad taste in your mouth. Seonghwa was the one who helped you, always getting you an iced tea every time he went to a nearby coffee shop.

Learned quite quickly that your tongue was sensitive to heat after being so concerned how you refused piping-hot meals he cooked for you often. Waited until it cooled a lot before digging in.

No doubt the four boys would do anything for you--Mingi the most out of the rest since you wouldn’t be where you are without him--but sometimes you needed to breathe by yourself. Enjoying the little things you like croissants and muffins rather than focussing on your soon-to-be ex boyfriend cheating on you for a reason that eludes you.

That’s how the rest of the day goes.

Aimlessly walking, window-shopping, sight-seeing. Nothing registered in your mind but it was better than something negative.

Your phone was on silent, growing cold in your pocket from the lack of heat being transferred from your hand. Even then, you doubt anyone (except Dominic) would be texting you since you told them you wanted peace.

Before you realised it, the sun crawled above your head and began to set in the horizon, a clash of beautiful blues, oranges, pinks, and purples hovering in the sky. Lampposts along the streets lit up and the sky grew dark, yet that didn’t stop the hustle and bustle.

Irritated by the noises of people, you turned to an alleyway which had significantly less lighting but also significantly less humans.

As you walked, you were deep in thought, not thinking much of your surroundings. Then the hairs on the back of your neck stood up and a chill ran down your spine.

Someone was following you.

You were about to turn around and defend yourself--and you had no worries that you would lose. But then bright LED headlights of a hidden black SUV had highlighted the hair of a rather short person who stood in front of it.

Shocking electric blue stands brushed against his porcelain-smooth skin from light wisps of wind passing by. The same colour hair you realised had been barely peeking in your peripheral since the airport.

Next to a man you had very briefly met on you birthday dinner while searching for the bathroom.

Exactly how long have they been following you?

Though you chided yourself for not noticing it sooner--despite all the excuses of being ‘on a holiday’--you found yourself pondering. You had never met those two funky-haired people before in your life, and you sure as hell made sure any dangerous people couldn’t find you (not without going through one of the other boys first) so who exactly were these people?

Perhaps you were like a bee, drunk on the honey in your tea, or maybe you wanted to get your mind off the situation, needing a thrill at the moment.

You felt the need to destroy something--or at least toy with it for a bit--and these cocky assholes seemed perfect.

Either way, you relaxed your muscles (only a little, as to not raise suspicion of the young man before you).

One foot stepped behind you as you kept your eyes trained on his coco ones, only to rip them away a moment when you turned to ‘run’. As expected, something else tried to stop you. Another black SUV with blinding lights swerved into the other end of the alleyway as you tried to leave.

You’d prided yourself on good acting, and it always seemed to pay off. Right now, to sell the part of a scared girl, you stumbled backwards--planning to fall of the cobblestone path, but only to be saved by something hard.

The mysterious man’s chest, his hands holding your arms as support.

“Sorry about this,” he whispered in your ear, covering your mouth with a chloroformed cloth. You didn’t really put up much of a fight (to your standards, anyway) and succumbed to the strong chemical.

At first you were floating in a sea of black, unable to connect with your senses. Slowly, after moments of nothingness, you could feel the world materialise around you.

Soft fabric was cushioned beneath you, cradling your body with warmth. Light began to seep through your closed eyelids as the gentle, sweet smell of sugared almonds filled your nose with every deep inhale. And finally, a headache that began to pound harder with every pulse.

Grunting, you pried your eyes open, immediately noticing what appeared to be a shower room in front of you. There were two shower heads on each side, with only pillars of soft light embedded into the tiled wall rather than a proper partition. To add to the lack of privacy, the only material separating the shower room and the eyes of the bed was simply a thin pane of sliding glass which hid absolutely nothing.

“What kinda perv decided to design this monstrosity?”

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you looked down on the bed you were lying in, thankfully still in the same cotton dress, phone no longer in its pockets. The mattress was significantly softer than the one at the hotel--yet another indicator that your kidnappers were rich.

On the tables dotted around the space were lilac candles. Most likely the culprit of the amazing scent in the room.

Your eyes then caught the daylight peeking through the curtains, enlightening the room in a soft apricot glow. “Fuck,” you muttered, remembering Yunho’s words in the previous call she had, “they’re gonna kill me for staying out.”

Pushing yourself off the illegally comfortable bed, you inched towards the only door you saw. Fingers wrapped around the cold metal handle and pushed down, finding it much to your surprise that it was actually unlocked. Pulled it open without hesitation, though making sure you peered out to see if there was anyone.

There wasn’t.

“Great security, guys,” you sighed, actually feeling disappointed in the lack of effort you had to put in while walking openly around. After all, it was the reason you let yourself be taken.

Then again, this could all be a trap.

Now that was exciting.

You let yourself become familiar with the surroundings upon one glance, noticing the obvious luxurious colour scheme of gold and cream that had your eyes rolling at the basic rich vibes it gave you.

Then you found your breath catching in your throat as you continued to explore, eyes frozen on a portrait hung up on a wall.

Though the fact that it was a portrait of you had initially shocked you, it wasn’t the defining feature that had your heart palpitating at a dangerous speed. Your hair was short again, a pixie cut, while you were sat on a beach that looked a lot like the one you visited in Santorini.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

In fact, the painting was an exact replica of you from five years ago, down to the clothing of ripped jeans and loose top you wore. You, from one of your darkest and lowest moments.

“Are you lost, babygirl?”

The same voice rang in your ears, repeating the only sentence you heard spill from his lips. When you turned around to confirm who it was, it was indeed the same man you saw.

The damn muscular guy, with pitch-black hair and a lock of platinum blonde brushing just above an eye.

The blood was rushing too fast, fear in your eyes no longer an act. Just who the fuck was this guy?

You took one step back, knees buckling instantly but before your brain could process it, the man had wrapped his arms around you, catching your body before hit the ground.

San could smell the delicate citrusy aroma wafting from your skin and he tried so hard to not bury his head in the crook of your neck, to kiss the area and whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

Taking advantage of your frozen state, he lifted you up and place you on a nearby armchair, one beside a fireplace since he felt you were too cold for comfort.

Only until he had a ice cube pressed against your lips, did you snap out of it. “You should have it. Maybe you had a bad reaction to the chloroform. Sorry about that, by the way.”

Head turning the other way, your guarded eyes stayed locked on him rather than your painting behind his form. “English.”

“Why? You spoke perfectly good Korean at the dinner two days ago,” he said, pressing the ice cube onto your mouth once more.

“Simply because I feel more comfortable with English,” you remarked, swatting away his hand. “And stop putting that on my mouth.”

Sighing, he dropped the cold, melting cube back in the glass of whiskey before putting a bit of distance between the two of you. He could feel himself getting angry, that you won’t trust him, that you won’t listen to him.

But could he blame you?

“I feel like explanations are in order,” you said, narrowing your eyes down on his figure, flickering firelight resting on him to make him seem even more good-looking, shadows casted to make each feature appear sharper. But that wasn’t what you were focused on.

You wanted to deduce this stranger by his body language.

Stood tall, maintaining good eye contact, showed that he was confident. Classic black suits--expensive by the look of the fabric--showed that he as rich. Tattoos littering the skin of his hand showed a bit of a bad-boy nature. And the aura he emitted was that of a leader.

Corner of your lips twitching, you realised who--or what--he might be. The boss of a fairly powerful crime syndicate.

San, on the other hand, couldn’t see what you were thinking as you looked at him. Did you think he was as hot as he did you? Fuck, he hoped so--clearly not understanding how a normal person would react in such a situation.

“Hello? Earth to whoever the hell you are?”

“If you want answers, you certainly won’t be getting them if you act like a brat.”

Scoffing, you tilted you head, eyes boring into him with a cold glaze coving them. Like a lifeless doll. “Then how do you suggest I act then? Hmm? After seeing that you’ve been stalking me for the last five years,” you nodded towards coloured canvas, growing more unsettled every time you looked at it.

“Fair point,” he said, taking a seat on the chair opposite you. “But you should know that I haven’t been doing that. Stalking you, I mean.”

“The fuck do you call that creepy-ass portrait, then?”

“I call it a precious memory.” San shifted his focus from your gaze to the flames lazily dancing on charred wooden embers. Tongue swiped over his lips before chuckling, almost bitterly. “Doubt you’ll believe me, but I’ll tell you anyway.”

Lips pursed, you sat quietly as you listened to his story.

☕︎ Tag list: @little-precious-baby , @sparklychangbin ,

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