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zepskies · 2 months

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The Miracle Man

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x F. Reader

Summary: The first time you met Priestly was both the worst and best night of your life. He gave you a Miracle.

AN: Here’s the prequel to Code Red! (But this can also be read as stand alone.) I hope you enjoy. And just a note, remember this was circa 2007, still the era of flip phones and iPods, despite the advent of the iPhone.

Word Count: 3,500

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for mature talk. A kind of meet cute, insecurities, angst, breakups, hurt/comfort, sandwiches, fluff and feels.

He was a lone ranger in the Wild West. His weapon of choice?

A dirty mop.

Priestly bopped his head to the music playing from his earbuds. His iPod was tucked in his right jean pocket while he speared the mop across the floor of the sandwich shop. It was three minutes to closing time on a Saturday night, and it was his turn to clean up and lock up.

He was looking forward to getting home, taking a shower, and diving face-first into his bed. But first, he just needed to kill three minutes.

Come on, come on, come oooon, he sang in his mind as the hands on his watch ticked on. While glancing down at said watch, he remembered it had been a gift from Tish for his birthday…

Three months ago. When they were still together.

Priestly heaved a sigh. What were you supposed to do with gifts from your ex that you actually liked? The gifts that made it into your everyday life, not just because they were from the person you thought you loved, but because it was actually hella practical and a nice accessory to keep on your person?

It’s just a damn watch. Don’t make it a big deal, he reminded himself. What was he supposed to do, have a ritual burning of everything Tish had ever touched?

That would take all damn night. And he definitely drew a line at his dick.

“Hello?”

The front door of the shop opened, the little bell Trucker installed chiming with too much cheer and startling Priestly out of his thoughts.

“We’re closed,” he said. But that was before he looked up, and had to pause in his mopping.

You were standing there, holding yourself in the open doorway with the cold breeze hitting your back. You were wearing a red cocktail dress and the highest black heels he’d ever seen, with your styled hair falling around your shoulders.

You were entirely too beautiful to be in this old sandwich shop, he thought. It had Priestly swallowing, frozen in time.

“Really? The sign says 10,” you pointed out. There was a level of desperation in your eyes. “Please, you’re the only place with the lights still on and I’ve been all up and down the block.”

Blinking out of his idiotic state, Priestly looked down at his watch again. It was exactly 9:59 p.m.

Well, damn. Got me on a technicality.

He held in a sigh.

“Okay, come on in,” he waved you over. Setting down his mop, he rounded the counter and went to man the register. He gave you a minute to peruse the menu. He noted that aside from your stunning attire, you had a cell phone in your hand that clearly couldn’t fit in that little purse hanging off your shoulder, bumping along your hip.

He couldn’t help but visually trace the curves of your hips and waist, back up to the sweetheart neckline of the dress, the deeper shade of your lipstick and up to your face.

But then he felt bad for staring, so he looked up heavenward before you caught him.

Meanwhile, your eyes drifted from the menu and dipped to his chest for a moment.

“Too bad I’m not gay,” you said.

What? Priestly frowned in confusion. But following your gaze, he realized you were staring at his yellow shirt, which read in big, 70s-style letters: Be Gay & Proud, Get a Free Drink.

His lips twitched at a grin, and he looked up at you. “D’you know what you want?”

You had a smile starting to play on your lips as well. You went back to considering your choices.

“Not sure, but I’m starving. What do you recommend?” you asked.

Priestly’s lips puckered as he considered the menu he knew by heart.

“Well, if you wanna go classic, I’d do a Spicy Italian on white bread. If you wanna be adventurous, we just added the Jalapeño Buffalo Chicken Club," he said. "But, if you wanna get crazy awesome, I can put on some Zeppelin and make you something special of my own design.”

He colored that last option with a gesture of his hand, a flourish, if you will. You tilted your head at him and smiled.

“Okay. Surprise me, Sandwich Man.”

Priestly snorted while he washed his hands again. “Sounds like the lamest superhero ever.”

“With his death-defying salami summoning powers,” you quipped, with a giggle that had him smiling as well.

“Nice alliteration,” he said. And he made a show of tying his apron back on. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Your late-night hoagie is safe with me.”

You tried to stifle another laugh while he worked his magic. From bread to meats and cheeses and toppings, Priestly was a master of his craft. He had that 12” hero wrapped and sliding across the counter towards you in record time.

“I call this the ‘Miracle,’” he winked. “You’ll see why. But that’ll be $10 even.”

You nodded and turned to the purse on your hip. You opened up the little velvety thing, but your face fell when all you found was your keys, not your credit card.

“No.” Your heart dropped into your stomach. You opened your purse wider and flipped through the satin insides, but you saw that it was empty. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. I know I had my wallet in here…”

And then it dawned on you.

“That fucking asshole,” you growled.

Priestly’s eyes widened. “Uh…”

Your head snapped up to his. “I had a different purse picked out for tonight. You know, one that actually had my wallet in it? But my know-it-all boyfriend had the nerve to say, ‘That one’s too shiny, looks kinda cheap. This is a restaurant at the Ritz-Carlton, not a hooker hangout.’ Can you believe that?”

Priestly blinked in confusion, but he realized that in your purse shuffling, you had no way to pay for this amazing sandwich he’d just concocted.

And now, you actually had the beginnings of frustrated tears in your eyes as you took in a shuddering breath.

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I can’t—I can’t pay for this. I don’t have my wallet… Hold on, let me see if he’ll…”

You held up a finger and started dialing manically on your phone. You held it up to your ear and waited. Your tears sprang forth anew when the line just kept ringing until it sent you to voicemail.

“Figures,” you scoffed. “The one time I actually need this douchebag to answer, he ignores me!”

You slammed the phone down on the counter and covered your face with your hand as you sniffled. Priestly softened with sympathy. You seemed to be having a harder night than he thought.

He slid the sandwich your way, making you raise your head.

“It’s okay. This one’s on the house,” he said. “Looks like you could use a pick-me-up.”

Your watery eyes met his. “Really? You don’t have to…”

“No worries,” he replied, giving you a bit of charm in his grin. “I’ll even throw in a soda. Lady’s choice.”

Your lower lip trembled, but you were able to smile. With a quiet thank you, you wiped under your eyes carefully so your mascara wouldn’t run. Then you grabbed a Coke from the machine along with your sandwich from the counter.

“Do you mind if I eat here?” you asked, gesturing at one of the tables. “I promise I won’t leave a mess. I know you’re trying to close up.”

Priestly waved a dismissive hand. “Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

He went around the counter to take up his mop and continue where he left off in the cleaning process. But he couldn’t help but eye you every now and then. Curiosity was starting to eat him alive.

Had your boyfriend just dumped you here? Had you gone off alone? Somehow, he couldn’t see the first option happening. If you were his girlfriend, he would do his best not to let you walk away angry at him, let alone this late at night, without any money or even your ID.

“Are you coming from a party or something?” he found himself asking. You looked up from your second bite of the sandwich. You’d looked to have been truly enjoying it, uttering a moan that’d caught his attention.

“No,” you chuckled humorlessly around a mouthful of bread. “I was supposed to meet his parents. His rich, very bougie, hyper-critical parents. Somehow it didn’t occur to me that he was just like them.”

Priestly paused and leaned on his mop. He was hesitant, not wanting to disturb you while you were eating, but he was too damn hooked.

“So…what happened?” he asked. You scoffed and took another massive bite of your sandwich.

“Okay, you want to hear this? Fine,” you began. “So, I’m a stress eater by nature. Let’s just start with that.”

“Who isn’t?” Priestly supplied. Pursing your lips, you raised a black olive at him in a thank you gesture.

“But when I tell you I spent three months depriving myself to fit into this dress. No carbs, cheese, chocolate, or happiness.”

He grimaced. “That’s no way to live.”

“Exactly!” you concurred. “But I did all that so my boyfriend would have nothing to say when I finally met his parents for this dinner—to celebrate him graduating from med school.”

Priestly found himself dimming inside. Not only were you spoken for, but you were with a future doctor, no less. The only title Priestly had to his name was Sandwich Man.

“It started with the purse thing when he picked me up. Then when we get there, he keeps telling me how stuffy his dad is and how judge-y and critical his mom can be and how I’m a reflection on him,” you mocked in an impression of his voice.

“Then I find myself second-guessing every word that might come out of my mouth, and I’m too nervous to even eat the $60 plate of Chilean sea bass in front of me, and not to mention, there’s a glass of wine in my hand. I don’t even like wine!”

By now, it was all Priestly could do to keep up with your verbal spitfire. You were also gesticulating wildly with your sandwich the more worked up you got.

“I mean, I’m saying things I don’t say, and suddenly I realize that I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots for this man, I don’t even recognize myself,” you confessed. Your eyes lit up with a gleam of clarity. Your hands lowered down to the table, and after a beat, you continued eating.

“But then my boyfriend of over a year turns to me and says, ‘Why are you being so weird and frigid?’” you said. You met Priestly’s eyes. “I just, I got so mad. I wanted to choke him out with my napkin, you know?”

He bit his lip to stifle a laugh.

“So instead of violence, I grabbed the glass of pinot noir, or chardon-perignon-whatever-the-fuck, and I poured it in his lap,” you concluded. “Then I walked out. And I ignored his calls. And I kept walking. Then a nice guy made me a sandwich.”

Priestly had to smile at that. He knew there was a Ritz-Carlton in the area, but that had to be almost a mile down the street. You’d walked a long way in those crazy-ass heels.

He propped his mop against a nearby table and sat down across from you. He shook his head in wonderment. And inside, your words kind of rattled him.

I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots, I don’t even recognize myself.

“You know, sometimes I really, really wish I was gay,” you said, gesturing at his shirt.

“O-Oh…really?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Yeah, I do,” you answered. “I’m a quick study. I could learn to eat pussy.”

If he had been drinking something, he would’ve spat it out. He mentally fumbled for a moment before he could articulate a response.

“Well, I don’t doubt you, but it can be an acquired taste. Though I happen to like it,” he replied, grinning mostly to himself. He didn’t even think about how it might come out though.

As soon as he realized what he was saying to a perfect stranger, his eyes widened and met yours.

"Uh, sorry," he said.

But you just chortled in amusement. Your blush intensified though, along with your smile as you took a sip of your soda.

“You’re uh…you’re pretty awesome,” he said. And he meant that.

You blinked in surprise. Your lips twitched upwards, a blush rosy in your cheeks.

“Yeah?” you asked. His smile deepened.

“Yeah,” he replied. “And for the record, I know I just met you, but…I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Your face softened with a certain shyness, but you smiled at him through your lashes.

“Well, I appreciate that…” you trailed, realizing you didn’t yet know his name.

“Priestly,” he offered, along with his hand across the table. You slipped your smaller hand in his and gave him your name.

Though you quirked a brow at him. “Priestly? That’s your first name?”

Now it was his turn to get a little embarrassed.

“Uh, no,” he said, his gaze falling from yours. He scratched the back of his head, under the blue mohawk.

“Oh. What is it, then?” you asked.

“You don’t want to know,” he chuckled wryly.

“I think I do, or I wouldn’t be asking,” you countered. Your smile was playful though. Disarming, even.

“It’s um, it’s Boaz,” he admitted. You tilted your head, as if swirling the name around in your head. But you didn’t say it was weird, or stupid, or too biblical. You just smiled.

“Boaz Priestly. Interesting,” you nodded. Then you wrapped up your garbage, having eaten all of your sandwich. You made sure to collect every crumb, even though he’d told you not to worry about the mess. You got up to take it to the trashcan near the door.

“How’re you getting home?” he asked.

You bit your lip. The anxiety in your eyes told him you’d been pondering that same question. You let out a deep breath.

“I guess I’ll have to walk back to the hotel, try to get a ride from my b…my ex-boyfriend. Gotta get used to saying that,” you said. “I promise I’ll pay you back for the sandwich.”

“Didn’t I tell you it was on me? Don’t worry about that,” said Priestly. “But I’ll tell you what, let me give you a ride.”

You shook your head. “Oh, thank you, but we just met, and I—”

Just then, Priestly realized how his offer sounded. He didn’t want to creep you out.

“Ah, or I can get you a cab,” he said. “I doubt you want to see that guy again tonight, do you?”

You bit your lip, smudging some of the scarlet red lipstick there. It distracted him for a moment, but he returned his gaze to your eyes.

You sighed. As much as you didn’t want to impose again, you let Priestly call you a cab. He paid for it in advance after you gave the cabbie your address. Before you got in the car, you turned to Priestly and touched his arm.

“Thank you,” you said. “I promise, I’ll come tomorrow and pay you back.”

He smiled. “You can try.”

He earned your sweet smile back, and he watched you get into the cab. He tried not to raise his hopes up, but he really did hope he’d see you tomorrow.

And yet, he should’ve known it was too good to be true.

“Maybe she got caught up at work or something,” Jen tried to console him the next day at closing, after you didn’t show up.

“It’s Sunday,” he pointed out grumpily. He continued to wipe down Table 4 of some nasty residue of mayo and pickled radish.

“You don’t know what kind of job she has,” Piper interjected. She was making a tuna salad sub on wheat for the last customer, which she then passed on to Tish at the register. “Maybe she’s in retail, or she’s in the restaurant business too—or hey, a lifeguard! This is a beach town after all.”

“Or maybe, she just played you into getting free food and a ride home,” Tish suggested, with her usual brand of cutting sarcasm. It just tended to cut a bit deeper these days, whenever it was leveled at Priestly.

The post-breakup thing had been tense and awkward for everyone, and it still hadn’t normalized just yet in their little sandwich-making ecosystem. Jen shot her friend a look though, one that told her she was being bitchy.

The problem was, she’d only voiced what Priestly was thinking anyway, deep down.

“Amazing, serendipitous things don’t happen to me, Piper,” he said. “Not anymore.”

He continued cleaning.

Three weeks later, it happened on a Friday afternoon.

It was one of their busiest times of the week. Tish was at the register as usual, Jen was sorting through the inventory and bussing tables, and Priestly was making hero after hero like a fiend, alongside Piper. He was definitely living up to his name of Sandwich Man.

He was still able to recognize your voice near the register.

“One 12” Miracle, please,” you requested.

“Um…we don’t have that on the menu,” Tish replied. But Priestly looked over with a grin. He met your gaze, and found you smiling back at him.

Tish followed the exchange with suspicion.

“One Miracle, coming up!” Priestly called out.

He had the order ready within minutes, but he was painstaking about it, not an olive out of place. He wrapped it up nicely and walked it over to the register himself, placing it in front of you on the counter.

“Well, hi there,” he greeted.

A familiar blush spread across your face, just as endearing as he remembered. The only thing different about you so far was your clothes. No longer dressed to the nines, you were more casual in your jeans, ankle boots, and V-necked top.

In every other way, you were the same. It might’ve been making his heart trip up.

“Hi,” you said. “Got a minute, Miracle Man?”

Priestly ducked his head, hiding a more bashful smile. Before he could respond, Tish interrupted, “That’ll be $10.”

You nodded and handed her a $50 bill. She looked at you in confusion.

“The rest is a tip, for the hero makers,” you explained, glancing at both Priestly and Piper. He gave you an incredulous smile.

You little minx, he thought. He couldn’t say no if you were tipping Piper too.

But he did ask Jen to help fill in for him while he made his way around the counter to go to you. Tish just watched the scene unfold with a silent frown, like she was trying to make sense of what was happening. She always thought she’d be the first one to move on.

“Let’s talk outside. Little more privacy from the peanut gallery,” Priestly said to you, tossing a knowing glance over his shoulder. You spotted all the employees now watching you and Priestly closely.

You became a touch more shy as he led you out of the shop with a hand resting on the small of your back. You slipped your sandwich into a larger purse than last time. Then you looked up at him with apologetic eyes.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come back here,” you said. “It got a bit…ugly, after that night.”

Priestly’s brows furrowed in concern. “Ugly?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you assured him. “Lots of shouting and empty threats, then half-assed apologies. But I’m done with all that.”

Priestly considered that with a nod. “Well, good. I’m glad to hear you’re doing better.”

You stared up at his face, and you thought he really seemed to mean that. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling that familiar flutter in your stomach, not three weeks after breaking up from a year-long relationship. Even so, the night you walked out of this shop, you felt free. Like you could breathe again.

You felt like you.

So now, you leaned up and kissed Priestly on the cheek.

His eyes widened a fraction as he stared down at you. You smiled and grasped his hand.

“Would you maybe want to…ask me out sometime?” you asked. A nervous giggle escaped you, making him smile.

“Y-Yeah, I would. If you’re sure you want me to,” he replied. In the past, maybe he would’ve let his excitement get the best of him. He’d be trying to jump at this chance. Experience had taught him not to hope too hard though. Sometimes, getting what you wished for backfired in your face.

You squeezed his hand, earning his attention.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked. Your smile became teasing before you used his words against him. “From what I’ve seen so far, you’re pretty awesome. But mostly pretty.”

He had to laugh at that. Pretty was not something he’d ever been called in life. Weird, freak, try-hard goth—that was all familiar territory. His tattoos and piercings tended to bring that out in people.

But he gathered some courage and squeezed your hand back.

“Well, you’re beautiful,” he said, thumbing at your chin. His eyes met yours and got lost there for a moment. “Uh, really beautiful.”

You blushed further and bit your lower lip out of habit. It drew his gaze, and he gained a little more courage. He tilted your chin upwards, so he could find those lips easier in a kiss. Your fingers curled in the front of his shirt and brought him closer. His hand found your cheek as he angled deeper into the kiss.

Despite the chill on the air, the California sun was warm and beating down on you both.

It was the perfect day for a Miracle.

AN: How I love Priestly lol. If you liked this, let me know! 💜

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#The Miracle Man #Code Red Prequel #10 Inch Hero #Boaz Priestly #Boaz Priestly x reader #Boaz Priestly x female reader #Boaz Priestly x you #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #Priestly x reader #Priestly x you #Priestly #Priestly x female reader #zepskies writes

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derlost · 4 days

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★ bakery bliss ༉‧₊˚

ミ ABOUT~ °•*⁀➷ in which you, a darling little baker in hell, come across a most unique client. could it blossom into something more? stick around to find out!

��･ﾟWARNINGS ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ none really, only tooth-rotting fluff. written with a gn / male reader in mind

ミ AUTHOR’S NOTE ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥hello lovely readers! i’ve been working on this for a long time, and as such, i hope you guys enjoy it! side note for those who’ve been around for a little longer- all requests will be completed shortly, don’t worry! in any case, i hope you all enjoy :)

♥︎ you never planned on going to hell. i mean, nobody really planned on it, but it sure was unexpected, especially for you- someone who did practically no wrong during their life. you were a morally good person- a kind friend, an honest employee, and a helpful samaritan on the streets. no, you weren’t meant to be here at all.

despite it all however, you adapted to the demonic realm quite quickly. you opened a lovely little bakery on the east side of the pentagram, and business was booming. sure, the average sinner might’ve scoffed at your business, but you didn’t mind- not when you were focused on the weirder of your clients…

meetings folks from cannibal town was a given- you only lived a few blocks away, and it seemed that they much enjoyed old-timey bakeries and blueberry muffins to wash down a most questionable meal. you had no issue with these people at all- they were always polite, they kept you in business, and they kept corpses off your patio. this clientele didn’t concern you- they were earnest individuals, and frankly, you enjoyed their visits. it was instead the visits of the ‘adult film’ actors from down the way that really confused you.

similar to how you lived only a few blocks from cannibal town, you also lived a few blocks from hell’s biggest porn studio- owned by the famous overlord valentino himself. their jobs didn’t bother you- more so the tired, poor status of the workers- and when they started coming in just before closing to get a little snack, you began staying up later. one night specifically, you met quite the character…

the bell tied to the handle of your door rang a polite little jingle, and you jolted, immediately standing straight up. you had nearly dozed off- and as you trained your eyes to the door, you recognized the man immediately.

it was none other than the one and only angeldust- arguably the most famous pornstar in all of hell. his face was plastered over countless billboards and advertisements, but you were currently more preoccupied with the fact that he was standing in your shop at the asscrack of dawn. with a friendly wave to your new customer, you began to speak. “welcome to the loafing around bakery, i’m m/n! if you need any recommendations or help picking something out, i’ve got you covered.” the spider demon gave the bubblegum in his mouth a final pop before tossing it into the trash, taking his sunglasses off.

“heya, toots. neat little establishment you’ve got here, eh? how’d it get started?” “oh,” you replied with a playful smile, “i loved baking when i was alive, but never got the chance to open a shop. i decided i’d take a chance and roll the dice down here.” “yeah? how’s that working out for you?” you giggled, leaning over the counter, nearly pulling back from the cold- damn this shop and its icy countertops. “i’d say it’s pretty good! a lot of drop ins from cannibal town residents, and um…your crowd.” to this, the white-haired man let out a loud laugh, snorting at your words. “my crowd, eh?? i’ll hand it to you doll, you’re pretty funny. aaaaanyway, my coworkers have been praising this place like it’s the second coming of christ, so i thought i’d stop by. what do you recommend, hmm?” the spider demon pulled his hair through his fingers, giving you a teasing coy smile. he was different from the others…a lot different. you could tell.

after realizing you were staring, you feigned a grin and sat up straight, walking over to behind the display case. “my personal favorites are honeylemon morning and blueberry tea dreams, but normally when people come in during this time of night, i’d recommend them coffee kisses or banana snuggles.” the actor seemed amused at the names of your muffins and cracked a grin, his single golden tooth shining from the glow of your shop’s lights. “coffee kisses or banana snuggles, eh? but what if i wanted to be bold? like, do you do cupcakes?” you paused to giggle, sweeping a stray strand of hair behind your ear. oh, he would be the death of you.

“sometimes. i think we have ‘all the razz’ in stock, but that’s really the only bold cupcake flavor i can think of now.” to this, he quirked a brow. “all the razz?” with a quick nod, you answered. “yes! it’s a uh…a raspberry cake with raspberry filling and frosting. quite delightful, if i may say so myself. though, i wouldn’t recommend it at this hour. you should really get something lighter so you can sleep better.” the spider demon chuckled lightly at your comment, straightening his jacket. “is that so, sweet cheeks?” you couldn’t help the blush creeping onto your face and disguised it with a nervous laugh. “oh, um, well, i just think…y’know, with it being so late in the night, you should probably eat something easier on the stomach and just go get some rest…” you awkwardly averted your gaze to the trashcan in the corner of the room, praying he wouldn’t notice- which he inevitably did- but you ignored it further. the demon’s expression softened, and he stepped closer to the counter.

“aww, well aren’t you a delight? lookin’ out for me, hm?” the spider demon paused to chuckle, the look in his eyes full of genuine curiosity. why were you being so sweet? don’t you know you’re in hell? don’t you know how most people treat him? still, he supposed he couldn’t deny the fact that your kindness was much appreciated, and continued to butter you up. “what a cutie. in that case, i’ll take one of the cupcakes, and one of your favorite sleepy-time muffins. that sound good, pipsqueak?” with a dopey grin you nodded, grabbing a box- medium sized, specially to fit both- and carefully placed in both a raspberry cupcake and a ‘chamomile bliss’ muffin. your hands were nimble and precise as you boxed them up, despite it being far past your bedtime. you moved to the register and began to ring him up, sliding the lovely little pink and white box towards him.

“that’ll be three dollars and fifty cents.” the actor scrunched his nose up, putting a hand on his hip. while he had been nothing but nice to you, you could certainly understand the rumors of him being intimidating- he had a…loud personality to say the least, and you could tell he was quite confident just from his mannerisms. “hon, are you sure i don’t owe you more? feels like a crime to pay you so little, if’m bein’ honest.” with a sincere glance, you began to explain yourself.

“the muffin is on the house.” you spoke gently, blinking at him with a look that could only be described as homey. “on the house?” he questioned, clearly shocked. “oh,nonononono doll, i couldn’t do that. i-” “no, really!! consider it my gift for getting to meet you. just wanna make sure people in your business get enough to eat and that you all sleep. if you insist on paying me, just promise you’ll get some rest. that’s all i ask.” the actor hesitated- he hadn’t seen genuine kindness like yours in a long time- and slowly, allowed himself to break into a cheesy grin, swiping his card.

“you’re too good for this place, toots. don’t let anyone take advantage of that fact, a’ight?” you chuckled in response, waving a hand as you printed out his receipt and passed it to him, wholly blind to the fact that he was casually shoving multiple ten dollar bills into your tip jar. “I’ll manage, but i appreciate your concern. between your coworkers and the residents of cannibal town, i’d say i’m pretty well protected here, ahaha.” the spider demon tenderly took the box into his hands, holding it with care as to make sure nothing got shaken or messed up. taking a step back, he chuckled to you. “i get why everyone likes this place now, it’s a real treat, and i don’t just mean the desserts. in any case, thanks so much for the muffin an’ all of that. you have no idea how much it means to me.”

the white-haired man put his sunglasses back on and slung his purse over his shoulder, beginning to walk to the door, only turning back to wave. “i’ll be back soon sugar, so don’t run out of those lovely little muffins of yours, kay?” his sweet disposition definitely confirmed to you that you had done the right thing- that he was someone worth helping. with a soft wave, you nodded in return. “will do.” “take care of yourself, okay? goodnight, m/n. thanks again for the lovely midnight snack.”

you couldn’t help but beam as the bell on the door jingled upon his departure, and you yawned, leaning onto your elbows atop the counter. yeah, you thought. he was nice. maybe i’ll see him again. and as for him? well, his thoughts weren’t too far off from yours.

yeah, he thought. you were a real sweetheart. maybe he’d see you again sometime…

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

ミ AUTHOR’S NOTE 2˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥hello again! i hope you all enjoyed this fic, and if so, please consider checking out my other works or sending in a request! i adore writing for people, so rest assured i would be happy to write anything you come up with. thank you all again, have a lovely day!

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eoieopda · 8 months

Text

interlude: sundown (myg)

pairing: min yoongi x reader summary: as it turns out, your boyfriend can take as much as he gives. au: darksided (masterlist), established relationship type: drabble | smut + fluff word count: 1.9k rating: 18+ cw: pov switch, min yoongi gets pegged 🙌🏻, afab!reader, needy & subby yoongi, v soft dom!reader, praise kink unlocked!!, anal fingering, sex w/ strap on, k*ss*ng (eek!) a/n 1: you thought i’d get through a(u)gust without a yoongi fic? pleaaaaase. this is part of the darksided series, so i recommend checking out the other installments first, just so you have all the context. this can be read as a stand-alone drabble, though! this one takes place after blindsided, btw. a/n 2: i don’t spend much time talkin’ ‘bout prep due to the word limit, but it is both implied & v important. be safe! 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

You can’t say what came over you. It wasn’t a conscious decision, you know that much. The only explanation you can fall back on is that the feral part of your brain simply took over, and your inner construction worker popped out to say hello — but that’s not entirely accurate.

In reality, it was less of a greeting and more of a “Damn, baby! That ass.”

Mere meters away, your boyfriend is bent over the bookshelf he’s been working hard to assemble — a task you were politely banished from executing, not thirty minutes ago. When he finally registers what you just blurted out, he stands back up to his full height and glances over his shoulder at you. His expression lands somewhere between bewildered and tickled fucking pink.

“Did you just catcall me?”

“I — I think…” You’re more shocked than he is, it seems. Blinking slowly doesn’t help you process your actions any quicker, so you give up and grimace through your admission. “I might have?”

Of the two of you, it’s Yoongi that truly has all the audacity in the world. After setting his screwdriver down onto the coffee table, he crosses his arms loosely over his chest and bites back a smug grin.

“You think you know a person after seven entire years of dating,” he tuts. “Then, they turn around and harass you — in your own home, no less.” Sucking a breath in through his teeth, he shakes his head and sighs, “Life comes at you fast.”

For a second, all you can do is stare at him with your incredulous mouth halfway open. It’s the most that anyone should expect from you at a time like this, when he’s looking at you like that — characteristically semi-flustered, and still so unshakably self-assured. With narrowed eyes, you opt to hone in on the former.

“You’re out here smuggling cake in broad daylight — looking downright bite-worthy —”

Peeling yourself off the couch, you cross over to him with your hands raised defensively. When you reach him, you plant those same hands on your hips and heave an exasperated sigh.

“What was I supposed to do? Pretend otherwise?”

Yoongi arches an eyebrow but says nothing, simply aiming his flat-lined smile your way. All it takes is your slow, expectant blinking for him to take the hint. Just like that, you fall into a well-practiced routine: him opening up to pull you into his chest, you lacing your arms around his waist, his chin resting gently against the top of your head.

And even though you haven’t left the house all day, this is the first moment that truly feels like home. It’s quiet, it’s calm, it’s —

“Bite-worthy, huh?”

You can’t see his smirk, but you can hear it.

“Surely, this is not the first time this is being brought to your attention.”

“It’s not,” Yoongi concedes. His low chuckle tickles every vertebrae on its way down your spine. The tingling only intensifies when he presses a kiss to the top of your head and murmurs, “I just haven’t heard it from you before. You’re behind the curve, so to speak.”

You pause for two reasons: the subtle genius of his phrasing and the new bit of trivia he seems to be alluding to. Is he — ?

“You’ve pegged?” You ask, glancing curiously up at him.

The answer wouldn’t surprise you one way or another. More than anything, you’re impressed that the two of you still find things to learn about each other. That you can spend the better part of a decade with someone, side-by-side, and never run out of new conversations to have.

When he tilts his chin to look down at you, his expression is a perfect mirror of yours.

“You haven’t?”

Yoongi’s head crashes back against the pillows before his sigh can slip fully from his mouth. The impact seems to knock it loose; it floats away, above your bowed head. The sound gets lost somewhere underneath that of your open-mouthed kisses trailing so fucking softly across the bare skin of his chest.

If his heart stops with every flick of your tongue over one of his nipples, you resuscitate him just as quickly with praise.

Apparently, being told he’s beautiful has the same physiological effect on him as a shot of epinephrine.

“Oh, fuck,” Yoongi groans from deep in his chest when your mouth ventures far enough to kiss the tip of his cock. That action is fairly chaste, all things considered, but the way his pre-cum shines like gloss on your lips is beyond obscene.

You smile with your eyes alone as you take him into your mouth — and you think he’s beautiful?

He can’t think of a single prettier sight than you and your fluttering lashes, looking up at him like he’s the one that hung the stars in the sky. Ridiculous. It’s him that frays a little further at the edges with every glance down at you.

Pulling away with a lewd pop, you murmur, “You can be more vocal than that, can’t you, baby?”

Oh, god.

The smile tugging at your mouth makes his heart leap and his cock twitch. Untouched, it jumps and re-settles against his abdomen.

“Yes.” He fires off his response like a bullet at point-blank range, and you chuckle quietly at his eagerness. Breathless already, he amends, “Fuck yes.”

One eyebrow arches just enough to indicate that you expect a more detailed response. He should know better by now, shouldn’t he? He’s teased you this way a thousand times before, and it’s about time that he tastes his own medicine. Acknowledging that fact, he stoops to begging.

“Please. I want you to fuck me open with your fingers.”

Nodding appreciatively, you trace your finger along the underside of his shaft and leave him on the brink of losing his goddamn mind. He’d gladly let you drive him insane this way, but you take that hand away and gesture for him to turn over. As you do, you hum, “And I want to see you on your knees, love.”

Yoongi takes your instructions and runs with them, barely careful enough to avoid knocking you backwards off the bed in the process. He settles on his knees, then looks back over his shoulder just in time to watch you pop the cap off the bottle of lube.

You look nervous, though you try to hide it. He’s no stranger to that worried crease between your eyebrows; and he can’t help the downward curve of his mouth when he sees it.

There’s never been — and will never be — a person he trusts more than you. Careful, perfect, sweet. You couldn’t hurt him even if you tried, and he knows without question that you never would. You, however, seem less sure of that.

Yoongi has to twist back around to do it, but he cradles your jaw in his hands and kisses you deep, with everything he has.

“I love you,” he whispers before pressing his lips to yours a second time. It carries more meaning than that; he suspects you hear each one.

I trust you.

It’s okay.

Already reassured, you whisper back to him with darkening eyes, “Elbows on the mattress, then, Min Yoongi.”

To say that he collapses against the comforter would be an understatement. He’s certifiably boneless the second your fingertips trace down the length of his spine, though his hunger for your touch starts him shivering.

“Relax, sweet thing,” you tell him. To encourage him, you lean forward and press your lips to the small of his back; instantly, you soothe the tension his body holds as if you’ve flipped a switch. It’s automatic, just like the low groan he emits when you murmur, “Good boy.”

The quiet that follows is ultimately interrupted by the faint slosh of liquid. He has to beg himself not to clench at the mere thought of your slicked fingers, so he instead lets his mouth fall open when he feels them glide over his rim. Needier than he’s ever been in his whole fucking life, Yoongi whimpers.

It’s a pathetic little sound, but he doesn’t dare to try and swallow it down. He’ll give you everything; every pleading sigh and shuddered moan, all of it.

And — as a courtesy — he’ll refrain from calling you a liar because there is no fucking way that you haven’t done this before.

It’s simply unbelievable with how expertly you navigate the intricacies of his body, applying perfect pressure where he craves it. With the way you translate his incoherent whining to a plea for more, giving him exactly what he wants.

Two fingers deep, you tease, “So greedy, aren’t you baby?”

But there’s no harshness to your tone, so soft around the edges. In fact, your little snicker suggests that you’re impressed. It takes all he has not to cum at the sound alone.

“Just for you — ” He responds through gritted teeth, blissed-out eyes squeezing shut. “— F-fuck. I can’t get enough of you.”

When you slip away from him, he proves your point, whining petulantly. You soothe him with an affectionate squeeze to his ass cheek, chuckling all the while. “Should we fix that, then?”

Yoongi has no idea what words he slurs in an attempt to answer that question, but he hopes he tells you how badly he craves your cock. He must, he figures, because he hears the telltale glide of the nightstand’s top drawer when you pull it open.

His head lifts from the blankets below to catch a glimpse of you settling the harness over your hips. For a moment, he forgets when, where, and who he is. The only reality he can currently comprehend is the one in which you’re running your fist down black silicone as if it’s a part of you, spreading slick from a bottle.

But then you disappear from his line of sight, leaving him disoriented. He misses you already.

“I wish you could see how pretty you look on your knees.”

The mattress dips under your weight, signaling to him that you’ve settled behind him once again. You tap the length of the dildo against his skin, prompting him to groan. Still teasing, you ask, “Gonna fuck yourself on my cock, angel?”

Shit, shit, shit.

Yoongi feels the tip hovering near his hole and he can’t keep his racing heart in check, so desperate that he’s practically vibrating. Your next words pull him further apart; they sound especially filthy in your light, almost reverent tone.

“Show me how well you can take me.”

He plans to do just that.

Slowly pushing back against you, Yoongi sinks down your length until that indescribable fullness leaves him starry-eyed and keening. After a few measured breaths, the ache subsides and gives way to pure pleasure.

Your praise is gentle, though the effect it has on him is earth-shattering. “Just like that, baby. You’re being so good for me.”

Withdrawing, he leans forward onto his elbows just to repeat the motion, losing himself more and more with every pass.

“Shit,” he hiccups, head drooping so that his forehead meets his forearms.

He only grows more eager when your hands claim his hips. You guide his body back to yours every time he leaves; whispering little wishes that he fuck himself the way you swear he deserves.

You must hear his ragged breaths over the clap of his skin against yours and sense that he’s close because you hum, “Sweet thing. Are you going to make yourself cum?”

Yoongi shakes his head fervently, although not for the reason you might think.

“Want you to,” he begs on an exhale. “Please, make me cum. N-need you deeper.”

Small hands flatten against his shoulder blades and press him further down against the bed. With fists full of the sheets, Yoongi gives you a desperate nod, signaling you to take over.

And you do — without the hesitation he saw in you earlier, proving for the millionth time that you know exactly how to make him fall apart.

And he does — with a cry, so delirious and fucked out that he goes boneless underneath you.

When his body eventually stops trembling, Yoongi feels you pull out of him. He hears the quiet click as you unfasten the harness. Shortly after, his senses are overwhelmed with the warmth of your body coming down gently to cover his, warding off the emptiness that started to settle in your absence.

“You’re perfect.” You mumble with lips pressed to his sweat-slicked neck. “So fucking perfect.”

Funnily enough, he was just thinking the same thing about you.

likes are always appreciated, but it's feedback that means the most — whether that's in a comment below, PM, reblog, tags, etc. tysm for reading ✨

tagging: @i-purple-buff-bunni @pamzn @myimaginationsrunningwild @nonbinary-demonbrat @jihopesjoint @cyanide-mustard @xjoonchildx @bbyorchid @persphonesorchid @quarter-life-crisis2 @zelchena @withluvjm @firesighgirl @whatthefsposts @iadelicacy @chimmisbae @cowboylikeyoongi @sailoryooons @axialitae @ugh-yoongi @minholykingofkorea @kookstempo @gimmethatagustd @ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhintothevoid @mgthecat @taegeum @purplebeebs @serendididy @piecsblog

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#yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts smut #min yoongi #yoongi imagine #yoongi scenarios #bts imagine #bts scenarios #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #myg #jade writes #re: darksided #re: interlude sundown #kvanity

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creatureheart · 5 months

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Because you seem to just be deleting all replies that give an alternate view instead of replying with actual discussion, as is your right but still kinda annoying, I figured I’d make a post that you cannot delete. =3

Caring for animals and their well-being is important!

Telling people that the thoughts they have determine their morality is nazi bullshit! =D

Thought crimes do not exist!

(PT: Thought crimes do not exist!)

And I will continue to repeat that because it’s the truth whether anyone likes it or not.

You cannot measure someone’s morality or their actions based on the thoughts they have. Unless they ACTUALLY act on these things, you have no right to tell other people if they are bad people or not.

And yes, this includes all the thoughts that you and others see as immoral.

If you’re the kind of person who thinks that someone thinking something bad makes them a bad person than you’re both ableist and just an asshole, because intrusive thoughts exist and those are not purposeful thoughts and cause distress among those who have them. Hence why they’re called intrusive.

But also humans are omnivores. Humans are predatory animals. Humans eat meat. Humans have natural and instinctual prey drives!

It might not be as strong as that of wild animals, or other nonhuman animals, but it’s still there!

To condemn someone for having a slightly stronger prey drive and calling them “budding psychopaths or paraphiles” is downright defamatory, ableist and tells more about you than it does about them.

Stripping away someone’s humanity because of something you don’t like is a fascist idea, and I would recommend taking a step back and really thinking about just how you have framed your mindset.

You can advocate for the safety of animals without condemning people who have done absolutely nothing wrong to those animals.

And as I mentioned in my now deleted reply, mental health professionals would not intervene on someone having simple thoughts. The only time they would intervene is if there is an immediate plan and danger towards the individual or others.

——

To anyone else reading this:

Your thoughts do not make you a bad person.

Your prey drive doesn’t make you a bad person.

Block and blacklist those who say otherwise from interacting with you because all they are is misguided assholes who need some more time to realise that the world ain’t black and white and morality is not straight forward.

#therian #therianthropy #otherkin #otherkind #otherhearted #alterhuman #alterbeing #prey drive #creature; the voice #creature; the wrath

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fixing-bad-posts · 2 months

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concerning your last ask post, I have a maybe stupid question 😭

so like, I don’t know a lot about systems or like DID or anything like that, but I’ve always heard that endo systems are invalid cuz like… they form without trauma I think??? Anyways I’m just confused cuz I don’t know a lot anhsjfvdidhdi

anyway sorry this so probably a dumb ask

or you could’ve been talking about a completely different kind of endo system idk :’D

hey anon :) don’t worry, it’s not a stupid question.

i’m a singlet so—personally—i’m not comfortable giving my opinion on ‘syscourse’. from my understanding, the issue of endogenic systems is a contentious and personal one that i’m not equipped to understand the nuances of. i don’t feel that i’m the person to ask about this, nor am i the person to preach about it.

however, i do stand by what i said in that previous ask re: anti-harassment. regardless of your stance on literally anything, i’ll always commend people making shitty blackout poetry instead of harassing others and/or leaving needlessly combative additions on posts you disagree with. and i’ll always be a proponent of blocking people you disagree with instead of engaging with them/harassing them—this praxis (methinks) saves everyone a lot of grief.

i hope this makes sense, and if you’re curious about DID issues, i’d recommend making an earnest and respectful effort to befriend the people whom these issues affect.

my best 💙

#i would also like to add that you shouldn’t feel the need to form an opinion on every issue #ask fbp #anon ask

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when-wax-wings-melt · 7 months

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Y'all wanted the presentation? Here's the presentation. Image descriptions are below the cut!

(technically this wasnt part of the assignment, which was "write an essay and read at least one full page to the class" so the reason why there's those huge blocks of text is because that is taken directly from the essay. i can condense things if I WANT to condense them)

[ID: 15 screenshots of a powerpoint presentation. The text is either white or gray, and the theme is various shades of purple, typically with bubbles of dark/light purple and images.

Slide one: Title reading "Keeper of the Lost Cities: A Love-Hate-Love Relationship, And What It Can Do To Your Psyche" with three images on the side. The first image is a meme of two stick figures, the first saying "kotlc lore is second nature to us rabid fans so it's easy to forget that the average person only knows the average special ability count and one or two vackers", the second figure saying "and valin, of course," and the first saying "of course." with text at the bottom reading "Even when they're trying to compensate for it, experts in anything wildly overcompensate the average person's familiarity with their field." The other two images are of Shannon Messenger, a white woman with blonde hair. The images are captioned "The dastardly mastermind behind it all" and "meet Shannon Messenger".

Slide Two: Title reading "Background" with a block of text and two images. The text reads "In total, the Keeper of The Lost Cities (KOTLC) series has over 7000 pages, split between nine and a half books (Book 8.5 was, uselessly, a novella) with a planned tenth coming in late 2024, and a graphic novel dropping in November. It’s the kind of series that hooks you the same way a fisherman hooks a fish: with a promise of a treat that goes very, very unfulfilled." The top image is the cover of the first keeper of the lost cities book, captioned with "book one of what will soon consume my entire brain for years and years and years" and the bottom image is a fish staring at the top image as if it is a tasty treat, captioned "Poor, innocent little 6th grade me".

Slide Three: A block of text reading "This is to say: KOTLC is a good series, at least at first. It’s certainly been my core obsession for a good (or bad) five years. It’s a hook because you can’t escape once you’ve begun. It’s my own personal brand of heroine, as Edward Cullen might say if Bella were a too-long book series that doesn’t resolve any plotlines or character arcs and instead piles more information on top of worldbuilding until contradictions are more plentiful than the packed main cast." An image of Edward Cullen from twilight is captioned "Me, apparently".

Slide Four: A small caption at the top reads "If the series ever ends you can call me Brant when Jolie asked him to leave the Neverseen the way I will burn down my house and kill everyone I love (haha just a joke to get us going)" with an image of a huge explosion below it. Text reads, "Basically, KOTLC is a good series, but the idea of recommending it feels like I’d be violating several articles of the Geneva Conventions. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. The thought of it ending is an impossibility on the scale of the apocalypse and I hope (I'd rather) the world ends before this series does."

Slide Five: Titled "Queer-Coding in the Lost Cities" with the image of Sophie Foster and Fitz Vacker on the side. Text reads, "The queer-coding doesn't just stem from Sophie’s dedicated denial of both her worth as a human being and her desire to kiss her pretty girl friends. A connection called a “Cognate Bond” is often referred to in the text as the closest two elves can become, emotionally and mentally. Cognates exist when two Telepaths (such as Sophie) have such a deep and unbreakable trust bond that they become more skilled together than they were apart. In creating and maintaining this bond, they have to complete trust exercises and not hold back secrets keeping them from total confidentiality. Sophie’s cognate is her friend (and love interest, and, debatably, ex-boyfriend) Fitz, whose romantic relationship was in a large part focused on their cognate one. Their trust exercises involve staring into each other’s eyes, holding hands, having matching rings, and Fitz telling Sophie that she’s the only person he can truly trust. Fitz also asks his father at one point if cognates are allowed to date each other— his father affirms the statement."

Slide Six: Titled "Queer-Coding: Qualden, Tiertice, and such other 🤨🏳️‍🌈 moments" with the text, "Notably, Alden has the authority to do so since he himself was a cognate, only undergoing a nasty breakup— sorry, only losing the bond after his cognate, Quinlin, kept too many secrets. It’s implied that two other characters were once almost Cognates, only to grow too far apart when one of them, Prentice, has his sanity forcibly shattered and is locked in prison, leaving his (gay lover) best friend, Tiergan (code name Granite), to raise his son. The choice to parallel Fitz/Sophie, Alden/Quinlin, and Tiergan/Prentice was possibly not a conscious one, since Messenger has never attempted to hint at the existence of homosexuality before, but it still resonates with hundreds of queer teen readers who look at the portrayal of utter devotion and trust between two men and think, wow. this is what i see in myself." The image is a quote from Neverseen, reading "'What did you give him?' Granite asked, cradling Prentice like a baby. Prentice's head lolled to the side, his body limp and pale." / "Granite held Prentice tighter, whispering, 'It's going to be okay.'"

Slide Seven: Titled "Honorary Errol "I have five identities and they're all the true me" Forkle Mention". Smaller text below reads "Strut it Magnate "I inspired Loki but don’t even ask about the horse thing" Leto!" A picture of Mr. Forkle is next to a tumble post by me about Forkle being trans based on the Loki thing. The slide is decorated with several trans flags.

Slide Eight: Titled "Beauty Standards" with text reading "Speaking of things Shannon Messenger did subconsciously, it’s so painfully clear that this series was written by a white American woman that it makes me break out in hives. Messenger establishes very early on in the series that all elves, no matter who they are, are gorgeous in comparison to humans. For some reason that I’m sure has no correlation to Sophie and therefore Messenger’s personal biases (aka Western hetero/cisnormativity and gender roles), every single elven character is slim with clear skin and no glasses. For some reason, beards seem to be impossible for elves to grow naturally, since the only time facial hair ever appears on anyone’s face is when they take an elixir to change their appearance." An image of Sophie with her human family is captioned "Sophie with her ugly nasty disgusting human family apparently".

Slide Nine: Text reading "Valin is a member of “the drooly boys” who, had they been “human, would’ve been skinny, with acne and braces. Since they were elves, they were fairly good-looking—or they could’ve been if they hadn’t slicked their hair into greasy ponytails” (Messenger KOTLC 170). It seems elves have evolved past the need for brown eyes, acne, crooked teeth, facial hair beyond eyebrows, and variations in body fat—not to mention most other features that make people unique. There is indeed a single elf who is fat and even has wrinkles (elves also don’t physically age past 30, fun fact). He alters his appearance with berries that swell his skin, making him the only unique body type besides Sophie’s human family, who are consistently thrown in terrible comparison to her new, movie-star-looking adoptive parents. The berries also make him smell, interestingly enough." Images of Councillors Zarina, Terik, and Clarette line the right side of the slide.

Slide Ten: Text reading: "By portraying the elves as the standard for beauty and then removing any pimple, stretch mark, fat roll, body hair, crooked tooth, big nose, or any of the thousands of features that add depth to faces and bodies, Messenger tells us that perfection lies in eliminating all “flaws.” She tells her young readers that they are desirable if they look like Sophie, or Biana, or Keefe—not Stina with her curly hair, or Dex’s too-skinny arms, or Forkle’s large stomach, or my human body." The family portrait of the Vackers is also there.

Slide Eleven: Text reading: "Mostly, what defines KOTLC is how it’s interpreted rather than the content itself. I look at Sophie Foster and see parts of myself, but that does not make her me. These characters always feel so painfully real, desperately relatable, as if Messenger cobbled together a main cast from bits of my life, but they are not. In the end, they are just characters. In the end, it’s just a series made for middle schoolers, in the same way the sun is just the sun, and the stars are just there to twinkle merrily and not to be explored." Sophie on the cover of Exile is also there.

Slide Twelve: Text reading "Literally the day after I finished this presentation a new Marella short story came out in the paperback version of Stellarlune (book 9). This is a quote in the short story:" with a picture of the short story of Marella being gay about Linh. Also on the slide is "🚨🚨🚨Alert Alert!🚨🚨🚨" "🤨🤨🤨🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️" and "Everyone is excited about Marellinh canon but I think she will simply never acknowledge it again."

Slide Thirteen: Just the text "Oh, By The Way, This Series Is Off The Walls Insane"

Slide Fourteen: Text reading "Things that happen in this series: Alicorns have sex and then there is a graphic birth scene (but the Forkle as Loki thing is going too far 🤨), Love Interest confesses his feelings by telling Sophie he wants her to be assigned to marry him by the government, An ogre bodyguard plays matchmaker with her charge and his crush (successfully), There's a guy who can sense "potential" except is definitely lying about this, Villains die so disappointingly. So far we have "hit on head with rock" "smushed by door opened too quickly" "exploded" "fell into evil birthing sauce" (this last one was cool though), and A school principal becomes president" Three tumblr screenshots and memes detailing other things that happen in the book are also there.

Slide Fifteen: THE END. A screenshot captioned with "Credits for the fake book 7 cover go to @/aphelea on tumblr" shows a canva/booktok style fake cover for Flashback, with a dancing couple, a horse, and the words "he was a boy. she was a horse. could I make it any more obvious?"

/end id]

#this id was HELLLLLLL by the way. like I had to take breaks and stuff this was TERRIBLE #i hope it's good enough because fellows. my eye is actively twitching from writing that shit out manually #anyways hope u enjoy the essay might make it somewhere sometime blah blah #summer rambles #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #the essay was actually mainly about sophie's insecurity but #it's even better w the transitions #i'll have you know my class LOVED this they were giggling and chortling and such #if the quality is bad. well. good thing we have these lovely image descriptions

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pandorasprongs · 11 months

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JAMIE TARTT | and i don't even like you that much. wait, i do. f*ck.

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

SUMMARY: jamie is actually a board game nerd and starts spending more time with one of the employees of a local shop.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: this idea came to me as someone asked me if i wanted to buy another volume of a board game we had HAHA if you can figure out what game i'm referring to in this story, hmu! alsooo i want to apologize for the length i swear i didn't mean for it to get that long, but still, i hope you all enjoy! title is from the song 'apple cider' by beabadoobee!

It was another slow morning in the store, given that most of your frequent customers were forced to be in school at this time. You ended up continuing one of the readings for your class during your shift. Despite a wave of drowsiness hitting you the moment you opened the book, it was still better having free time to be tired than the afternoon rush when 13-year-old boys came in to get another booster pack of Magic: The Gathering cards.

You were practically setting all these children up for a gambling addiction the way they'd spend 20 pounds trying to get one of those shiny ones in their deck. You never bothered to learn the names really, because that wasn't part of your job description. When it came to those kinds of things, those boys probably knew more than you did.

When it came to board games though, that was your area of expertise. It was partly one of the reasons you applied to work here while you were finishing up your Master's, — and also because of how generous the owner was with your salary, — so you always loved helping people out for their board game nights. You didn't have regulars that would come in often, but here and there, there would be a person you recognize from before asking about another game.

You don't know how much time had passed, but after deciding that your brain could no longer take reading the word cognitive multiple times in a sentence, you end up shutting the book and resting your head on the counter.

Soon after though, you hear the bell at the top of the door ring, causing you to jolt up. You only catch a glimpse of the guy walking towards you before he drops his head, his cap completely blocking his face, and a loose black hoodie covering his frame.

For a second, you get worried that the store was about to get robbed but the man finally stops in front of you and speaks, in a thick Mancunian accent. "Do you have any suggestions for board games? Like for family and stuff,"

You swear you've heard his voice before. Maybe from school? Or a former customer? You decide to shake it off before replying. "Well, this is a board game store, so there's quite a lot to pick from. Do you have any specific theme in mind? How many players?"

"There'll be 3 of us, but I'm not really picky with the game. Not any of those monopoly type shit though, cause I'm sick of never winning."

You chuckle at the revelation and that's what gets the man to look up at you. It definitely wasn't his appearance he was worried about. His chiseled jaw and striking blue eyes almost draw you in, not to mention his hairstyle looks eerily like the one David Beckham had in the 90s, who you had to admit was a crush of yours as a kid. He could even pass as a contestant on one of those dating reality shows.

And then it hits you where you've heard his voice before. This guy was on Lust Conquers All and was immediately voted off. You remember it well because your sister was so pissed at him for joining the show since the football season had just started. Jamie something, but the show never mentioned his last name. You try to hide your realization by turning to the shelf behind you.

"Alright uh, I’d recommend this one." You turn back around and slide it across the counter as Jamie (?) starts looking at the box from all angles.

"Looks cool," is all he says in reply and he looks back at you, presumably for you to explain the game. You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before going on your usual introduction to the game.

"Basically in the game, there are 4 characters you can choose to be your 'heroes.' Your main objective is to get your opponent's health to 0 using the different cards in your set. All the characters have different decks and skills you can use throughout the game, and some of them even have side kicks." You look back up for a second to see his expression and you can tell that you're still holding his interest.

"So for example in the one I gave you, you can battle Sinbad, Medusa, King Arthur, and Alice, who's fucking amazing, by the way."

"Alice? From fucking Wonderland?" You laugh at his surprise before nodding to affirm it. "She's your favorite then?"

"How'd you know?" You ask sarcastically. "But yeah, she's just really versatile and it's just really fun to shrink and grow every turn just to piss off the other players. I'm practically unbeatable using her." You admit though you're not really sure why.

Most of the time when customers come in here for a game, they don't ask questions and just buy the first one you suggest. That’s probably why you answered Jamie's question so earnestly. Cause he's the first one to ever ask you what you liked about the game.

You quickly run through the rest of the rules and mechanics of the game with Jamie chiming in occasionally. You describe the other editions as well and Jamie is tempted to buy the other one — "How is anyone supposed to beat fucking Dracula?" — before he ultimately decides to take home the one you offered.

"If I end up losing using Alice, you owe me a refund." He states as you ring up the game. You playfully roll your eyes as you scan the barcode on the box.

"Oh yeah, since you're the first customer of the day, you get a 7% discount on your purchase," you quickly inform him when you glance at the post-it note on the register screen reminding you about it in bold letters.

Instead of the usual gratefulness or blip of happiness from hearing that news, Jamie instead asks, "Is that really a thing or are you doing it because you know who I am?"

You look at him to check if he's serious and given his blank look, you assume he is. You don't know how to respond to that, so instead you just slowly shake your head.

"Wait, do you not know who I am?" His question itself comes off as arrogant, but given the genuine surprise in your voice, you're not sure how to feel about the guy after he says it.

You decide to answer him honestly. "I do, but given that you walked in here in clothes that make you look like a stalker who's about to rob the place, I didn't think you'd want me to make a big fuss about it, Jamie."

His shoulders seem to relax at your statement and once he goes quiet, he finally pulls out his wallet. You quickly place the game in a paper bag and hand it over to him.

He whispers a quick thanks and turns to leave, before pausing. He turns back to you, "Look, it's not like I'm dressed this way because I'm embarrassed to be in a store like this—"

"I didn't think you were," you answer blankly with a hint of sarcasm. You decide to mess with the guy a little bit because hey, when's the next time a famous footballer comes into your store again? "Why, is there something I should be embarrassed about?"

Jamie quickly shakes his head. "No, fuck no! I think it's cool, really. You know, being surrounded by all these games and cards and knowing so much about them. Especially someone like you,"

You tilt your head in amusement. "What do you mean someone like me?" Jamie's embarrassment only seems to deepen at that.

"Fuck I didn't mean it like that. Honestly, when I came in here, I was expecting some teenage boy to be at the counter. Wait no— I mean, girls can like all this stuff too! I just didn't expect someone attr—," he stops himself and shakes his head. "Shit, wait,"

You watch Jamie scramble for words and you decide to just put an end to his misery. "Look, look, I was just joking around. I don't give that much of a shit about what you said." The football player visibly relaxes and you hold in a laugh at that reaction. "And you're basically right about the kind of people who work here. Most of my co-workers can't work these hours right now 'cause they're off studying for their A-Levels."

"Yeah, well thank you for this," Jamie lifts the bag slightly and you give him a genuine smile.

"No problem. Hope you enjoy the game! And if you ever feel compelled to dress like a shitty robber again, you can come back and tell me what you think." Your sarcasm no longer throws Jamie off who instead, just playfully rolls his eyes and leaves the store.

You go back to your reading for your behavioral science class, putting your interaction with the football player in the back of your mind.

—

The next time you see Jamie is two weeks later, although this time, he comes in right before closing. Technically, you weren't the only one assigned for this shift, but you decided to let your co-worker go home early since he said he had an English exam the next day and still hadn't studied.

So, you were counting down the minutes to 8 pm when you hear someone come inside. Fucking hell. You force a smile, "Hi, welcome! We'll be closing in a few minutes, but please approach me if you need anything so you can have a speedier process."

"Are you really that desperate to get rid of me?" The person moves away from the shelves and turns out to be Jamie Tartt, you learn his last name is. He's wearing another grey hoodie but seems to have decided to ditch his hat. Good, because you weren't sure how much longer you could stare at the ICON written on it and not judge him. "I wanna know, did you think offering to help the customer would get them out of here quicker?"

"I had to try something," you defend yourself, shrugging. You notice Jamie carrying the bag you used to wrap the board game and slightly frown. "Didn't like the game?"

He follows your eyes and is quick to correct you. "I loved it, actually. First time playing a board game that Simon didn't win during the first round." You aren't sure who Simon is, but you laugh nonetheless. "And you're right, Alice is fucking unbeatable."

"I'm glad you liked it, and Alice," you start, but then glance at the time on your phone. "But, is that the only reason you came here?"

"Well no, I was wondering if you wanted to play. That's why I came so late, in case there would be too many people if I came at the usual time."

"Yeah, there was a fuck ton, actually, as you can tell from the fully stocked store." You say, pretending to look around the room. "But sure, if you want. I don't have anything going on tomorrow anyway," Now you're really glad that you didn't procrastinate that paper due tonight.

Jamie smiles as he starts to unbox the set and you grab one of the chairs behind the counter and push it to the other side for the footballer.

Never did you imagine you would spend a Saturday night with a hot football player playing one of your favorite board games, but here you were. In between one of the rounds, the topic of football is brought up and you admit that you don't know all that much about it despite your family being made up of fanatics.

"Everyone has their team they support. My dad loves Arsenal, my mum loves Chelsea, and my sister bounces between West Ham and Crystal Palace. Though, she fucking hates Rupert Mannion, so maybe this is the end of her West Ham support." You answer as you shuffle Jamie's deck.

"Shit, the season must be fun for you guys," Jamie remarks and you snort, though instantly regretting letting that sound out. The football player looks unfazed, so you decide not to apologize for it and answer his question instead.

"Yeah, I basically end up being their messenger till the finals, which ends up becoming World War 3 if their teams are competing," you hand him his deck back and start the round, but your conversation doesn't end there.

"What team would you support then, if you got into football?" He looks hopefully at you.

"Yours, probably." You confirm as you look through your first hand of cards. "I mean, I'm about to destroy one of their players at this game. It's the least I can do."

"We'll see about that," Jamie replies and you roll your eyes playfully, but you smile.

Working at the store meant you were surrounded by board game fans every day, but not even your regulars would come in here after your shift to play. You couldn't help but feel warm at how Jamie matched your enthusiasm about the game, something, you admit, you didn't expect from the player. You knew nothing would probably come from this harmless happy crush of yours, but if he decided to start coming in often to play, you wouldn't be opposed to it.

Your attention turns back to the game once Jamie picks his next move. He smirks at his decision until his expression suddenly shifts. "Wait, if you're not into football, how'd you know who I was the other day?"

You move your piece before looking directly into Jamie's eyes and respond, "I just really love trashy reality shows." Jamie playfully groans at the reminder and you burst into laughter before you continue the game.

True to form, whichever of the two of you uses Alice is the one to win that round. You finally decide on a tie-breaker with your favorite being banned from usage.

"Christ, if this is how you maneuver in a board game, I wonder how good you are at football." You tease, as you glance at his character being at only 4HP.

"I'm fucking amazing, actually. Ask your family, they'll tell you." Jamie moves a few spaces on the board, hoping to escape your Medusa, but instead, he falls into one of your traps.

You corner him and finally reduce his King Arthur's health. "And there you go, 3-2."

It takes Jamie a second to absorb everything before he slouches. "Fucking hell." You laugh before getting up from your chair and helping him keep all the pieces and cards.

"Better luck next time, Tartt."

Jamie, whose competitive side seems to be shining in this game, doesn't let it end there.

Almost every week, he would come into the store at night asking to play. He was definitely getting better, but after making a deal where the loser has to tell an embarrassing story after the round, you realize you know more about him than he probably does about you.

"God Jamie, how are you alive?" You ask as he shares a story from when he first started the league.

"How was I supposed to know doing multiple headers in one match could lead to a bloody concussion?" He retorts, only making your eyes widen even more.

"I'm pretty sure that's common knowledge to about 80% of the population," you say through your laughter.

It's almost 10 when you finish playing, so you grab your jacket and start heading to the door with Jamie. You lock the store up and notice that Jamie's still hanging around you.

It's dark outside, but it seems like his features were even more enhanced by the moonlight. The light hit his eyes just the right way that it made the blue more evident. You notice just then how his hair is neater today, mainly because of his sports headband. The front strands of his hair had fallen out it though, falling on his face in just the right way that it gave you butterflies. Did all footballers look this attractive?

You realize that you may have been starting a bit too long and as you tuck the keys in your jacket pocket, you decide to ask, "Need anything else?"

Jamie opens his mouth to say something, but instead, he just shakes his head. "Nothing actually, just good night," he waves and starts walking in the opposite direction, but you swear you hear him muttering something under his breath.

—

It had been a week since then and you had to start telling yourself to not be so excited when you hear the bell ring. Every time it did, you'd look expectantly at the door expecting to see Jamie again, asking for another or a new volume or even just game tips. Each time, you'd end up disappointed and would have to fake a smile to the customer approaching you.

This time you hear it ring, and you do your best to not look up. If it was Jamie, you knew that your boss George probably would be sounding an alarm. You only learned the Monday after that he was a major AFC Richmond fan when you mentioned that a football player had visited the store multiple times to play board games.

"Do you think we can get him to sign a picture and put it on the wall? Can you ask?" You quickly have to explain how those interactions were the only times you ever spoke to Jamie and had no actual way of contacting him.

As you close your laptop, — one more paragraph and that essay is done! — you look up to find two guys standing in front of you.

"Hi, do you have any board game recommendations?" the one on the right greeted, his accent quickly revealing him to be Welsh.

You don't have a chance to answer because the left one lightly elbows his friend before whispering (though loud enough for you to hear), "He already told us what to get, bruv."

You may not know who this 'he' is, but the guy pulls out his phone and shows you a picture of a board game, the same one you recommended to Jamie. Wishful thinking gets you to believe that they were friends of his and he liked it so much that he told them about it. And maybe about you, too.

You've never been so happy to be right.

You nod your head and as he kept his phone, you started pulling the same edition from the shelf behind you when you hear a screeching sound that almost made you drop the box.

"Oh my God, Colin Hughes, and Isaac McAdoo!" George exclaims and you wonder where you've heard those names before.

The owner joins you at the counter as you place the board game in front of you. Maybe you weren't pretending to be as peppy as you usually do, because George decides to ask, "How are you so calm? Do you know who these guys are? They're Colin Hughes and Isaac McAdoo!"

"I heard you the first time," you turn to the two guys once again, embarrassed on behalf of your boss.

"They're part of the starting team of AFC Richmond!" And that's when it clicks. On one of your all-nighters, you decided to take a break and search up Jamie Tartt just to see what you could find. You ended up at his club's website and saw the rest of the players as well. You didn't pay them much attention given that you were so focused on player number 9, but you saw enough pictures to recognize them, at least.

"So you guys do know Jamie," you think out loud and the two players turn to each other, before sharing looks of realization.

"Oh, you're the girl!" Colin exclaims and you can't help but feel butterflies in your stomach.

"Yeah, I guess so," you try and act as nonchalantly as possible, so neither of them picks up on anything. You turn back to the game and ask, "Is this the one you wanted?"

"Jamie said there were other versions?" Isaac asks and you nod your head to confirm it, which he smiles at. "We want the Sherlock one."

"Okay," you reach for that one on the shelf as George starts offering them discounts on the game.

When he almost offers to give it to them for free along with another set, you stop him by slamming the box on the counter. Why were you the one trying to keep his business alive? "Here it is, hope you enjoy it!"

You ring up their purchase, still trying to hold your boss back from scaring these footballers away before they can pay. You finally bag the whole thing and hand it to them. "Thank you!" you shout as they exit the store.

"Yeah, see you soon!" George says afterward and you look at him in confusion.

"What the fuck was that, George?" He only sighs, most likely the embarrassment only hitting him at that exact moment.

Once he goes back to doing inventory, you can't help but replay what Colin said. Oh, you're the girl! Why was such a simple phrase like that affecting you so much? For all you know, he might've mentioned you being a sore winner, which wouldn't be the first time you've been called that.

But you still hope he said good things about you and maybe even kept better things he thought to himself.

—

"Okay, time's up. Please pass your papers." You write one last word as you get up to give your exam to the proctor, sighing in relief that the semester is finally over.

You had asked for leave for the past few days and didn't have a shift until tomorrow, so you decide to treat yourself to some coffee and pasta for lunch at the campus cafe.

As you settle down at one of the tables, you get a phone call from George. He was more than happy to let you take the time off, so you wonder what emergency had to happen for him to contact you.

As soon as you pick up, George screams your name into the phone. You pull it away from your ear for a second, and respond, "What? What do you need?"

"Look, I'm sorry to disturb you on your day off, but you said that your test ended at 2:30, so I decided to hold off calling you till then. Anyway, someone came in a few days ago asking if we host board game nights."

"And we do," you answer for him as you chew your sandwich.

"Right, and then he said that he was from AFC Richmond." You flinch after imagining how your boss could've reacted at that revelation. "They wanted to hold it a few days ago," George pauses.

"Why didn't you say yes? You could've been game master."

"Yeah well, I wanted to, but they specifically asked for you to go." You put down your sandwich and straighten up. George continues, "I told them you were on leave, but they said they could wait till you were back at work. I said that your test was this morning and I would ask if you'd be willing to end your leave early."

"Okay, sure." You answer, a little faster than you intended. You couldn't believe that the team — and maybe even Jamie personally, — was willing to postpone their game night just so you would be the one to facilitate it.

The surprise was evident in George's voice. Normally, you would reject his idea the moment he mentioned board game nights, but something about this was different for you. "Oh okay, well, I'll send you the address. I'll be bringing the boards there since you don't have a car and I'll meet you there at 4 pm. It's a restaurant, so maybe you can get something to eat before 'cause shit can get crazy at those things and it's best to load up."

You don't know how a board game night could get crazy, but you decide not to comment on it. He sends you the details through text before you end the call and continues eating your sandwich. The place wasn't too far from campus, so you didn't have to rush to get there. But after 10 minutes, you consumed your sandwich and were out the door with your coffee in hand.

While walking, you decided to familiarize yourself more with the players trying to put names to face before you had to interact with all of them at once. You started to get the hang of it, — even looking at team photos and naming them one by one as a test — as you get to the venue at around half past 3.

You arrive at a restaurant called Ola's, and you remember seeing one of the Richmond players post about it. Your dad wanted to have dinner here once, but they were always fully booked so the four of you gave up trying to get a table there.

Because of that, you expected the place to be swamped with customers, but instead find an almost empty restaurant. You notice one guy standing in the middle of it and approach him.

"Hi," He turns around and you recognize him as Sam Obisanya, meaning he must be the owner. You introduce yourself quickly before asking, "Am I at the right place? I'm here to help host a board game tournament."

Sam's eyes widen as he seems to recognize you. "Oh yes, this is the place. Sorry, I didn't expect you to be so early. We already fixed up the tables, but I can also help in setting up the boards if you like."

"Ah no, it's alright. My boss is the one who’s bringing them. I came from my university, so I don't have any of them on me right now." You quickly explain and Sam nods as he leads you to one of the tables to relax, while he grabs some appetizers from the kitchen.

He makes his way back to the table, though he can't seem to stop looking at you. You subconsciously start fixing your hair, wondering if you should've gone to the bathroom before going in here.

He seems to pick up on this and is quick to reassure you, "Oh, I'm sorry for staring. It's just Jamie has mentioned you so many times, so it's nice to finally put a face to the name."

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of the football player. You grab some of the food he offered as you reply as calmly as you can, "Oh yeah, did he tell you how he is nowhere close to beating my number of wins?"

Sam lets out a short chuckle. "No, but I'm not surprised. He did say you're very good at it." You smile and decide to ask why they decided to do a board game night.

It takes a second before Sam replies, "Oh well, Coach always says to do team-building activities every once in a while, and seeing as Jamie has asked almost everyone on the team to play the game at least once, we thought it would be a good idea. I think Isaac and Colin got their own board too and they started bringing it to the clubhouse."

"Shit, I didn't realize that football players loved board games so much," you remarked as you hear the door to the restaurant open.

Both of you look up to see George, who is trying to carry 12 boxes of board game sets. You rush out of your seat to help him out and so does Sam. The sight of the player almost makes your boss drop all of them from his arms, but you quickly scoop four of them and Same takes another four.

"Sam Obisanya," George exhales, once some of the weight is literally lifted off him.

The player simply says, "Hello," and states that he'll start setting up the four boards on the tables near the back.

You snap your fingers to get George out of the trance and the two of your start setting up on the rest of your tables, dropping the character figurines at the bar table and putting the sign-up sheet next to it. Slowly, the restaurant starts filling up with players with George gradually losing his mind at the number of footballers from his favorite team.

You finally get him to leave, but only by promising to convince the team to take a picture with him when he came back to pick up the boards. You're pretty sure he's already making plans to put it on a canvas and hang it on his bed.

You settle yourself behind the bar table to be in charge of the players setting up, each time expecting it to be Jamie standing in front of you. You try and keep your focus on the task at hand every time you hear the boys greet someone new.

Isaac and Colin are the next to write their names and they give you a look that you can't quite decipher. Soon enough, Jamie finally gets here and you straighten up in your seat. He greets some of the players till his eyes land on you.

He approached the bench and once he looked up, he observed out loud. "You're here,”

"Aw, did you want to get rid of me that badly?" You mimic him before explaining that you finished your leave earlier, "just to see you, of course." — with some truth behind that statement. Jamie laughs — albeit, a little awkwardly, — and takes the clipboard. As he signs up, you decide to take the chance to tease him. "Heard you were talking about me to your teammates."

Jamie's eyes widen and he stops writing to shoot glares at the rest of AFC Richmond, not sure who told you. Jamie turns back to you and you laugh. "Don't worry, Tartt. I'm sure you just told them how I'm an absolute god at the game and you're glad I'm not playing tonight." The football player simply rolls his eyes as he joins his teammates.

Once the whole team is complete along with their kit-man Will, you decide to start the tournament. "Okay, hi everyone! Welcome to your board game night." The crowd cheers and you're startled by their enthusiasm. You quickly explain the rules of the night, — though they seem to already know most of it, — and the order of players. It's a draw lots method, so the players will be randomly given a character and an opponent.

Once everyone gets their characters and settles in, you start making rounds in case anyone had any questions. After a while, you start heading back to the bar when someone taps you on the shoulder. You find Jamie already done with his round.

"How'd you win that quickly?" You don't try to hide the surprise in your voice. "Even I take like 20 minutes minimum to win."

"Oh I didn't," Jamie clarifies, and you widen your eyes. "I just couldn't attack Dani. I mean, look at that face." You turn to their table and find Dani smiling at you — "This is fun!" — and waving using his Dracula figurine.

You laugh at his reasoning. "Alright then, guess you're done for the night." You walk back to the bar and Jamie stops on the opposite side of it.

"You hungry? Sam said there's prepped meals in the back and since none of the games are ending soon…" Jamie offers and you obliged, seeing as this might be the only time you might ever get to eat in this restaurant. He grabs two plates from there and settles down next to you. Surprisingly, he managed to grab one of your favorite dishes. You remember mentioning to him that you had tried it at another restaurant in the past and loved it, but you doubt he even remembers it and dubbed it a coincidence.

You decide to keep the topic off board games and instead let him talk about what he's doing since he last saw you. Turns out they had multiple back-to-back matches, so practice was tight and he didn't have time to visit you. He also said the next time he did, it was one of your teenage co-workers manning the counter.

"Oh, Chuck! Yeah, he's pretty shit at board games." You say blankly while you shove another spoonful of food into your mouth.

"I ended up just buying a card game and leaving." Jamie continues and you laugh.

"Sorry, you went all the way there for just that. I go to class on Wednesdays, so I don't have a shift then." The conversation then shifts to your degree and you explain that you plan on becoming a psychologist.

"There is another upside to getting that degree too," Jamie chimes in, and you tilt your head. "You can fuck with someone's head while playing."

"Okay, psychology isn't mind control." Though, you think about it for a second. "But it is pretty close. You’ll be my first victim.” You make your sound more ghostly in that last sentence and Jamie pretends to act terrified and faint.

There is a short silence between the two of you when you realize that most of the rounds are done. You start organizing the next round and once the games start, the other players start going around and rooting for their teammates.

It leaves the area near the bar much more isolated and Jamie lowers his voice. "About that card game I got, it's pretty fun, too."

"Yeah?" You ask as you bring your plate back to the kitchen.

"Yeah. I'd love to take you out and talk about it," you stop in your tracks before turning back to the footballer who adds, “If you want."

You turn around to see Jamie is much closer to you now. It's only then you realize how much taller he was than you, but despite that, you’re not intimidated, especially with him looking so expectantly at you.

It takes a second before your mouth turns into a smile. "I think I'd like that."

Jamie does this small bounce thing on his heels, before trying to tone it down. You only laugh and kiss him on the cheek before heading to the crowd of players. He follows suit and rests his arm on your shoulders.

Some of his teammates notice and start cheering. You look at them confused before deciding to ask Jamie, "Was this all an elaborate scheme to ask me out?"

He shakes his head, "No, 'course not. Was there a deal made after I lost a game to Jan? Possibly," The both of you laugh as you playfully push his head away. You start to accept that this unfairly attractive football player — whom you'll be going on a date soon — can be as much of a nerd as you.

If this is what George meant when he said game nights could get crazy, well, maybe you should’ve given them a chance earlier.

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hanniology · 1 year

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two umbrellas | jeon wonwoo

Synopsis: wonwoo doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but you do after meeting him. genre: fluff, sick fic, kinda angst. warnings: none I think besides the fact yn makes a bad pick up line. calls wonwoo, wonuwu, im sorry. word count: 1528. pairing: jeon wonwoo x gn!reader. Note: another repost until i have time to post some new stuff later.

“Hey there Wonuwu.”

The boy you addressed the new nickname to lifts an eyebrow.

“Wonuwu?” He asked with a slight face of disgust.

“Yea I think it’s a really cute name for you, what do you think?”

He turns to face you with a straight face, “No.”

Rolling your eyes at his response as he goes back to take a tour of the library to make sure everybody has left the building already. Knowing you’re gonna follow him.

“OUCH!!” He hears you exclaim behind him.

“Wonuwu, my face hurts.”

Not looking behind him because it was probably just a line to one of your cheesy pick up lines you’d always make.

“Did you walk into a bookshelf again?”

“What no that was one time-it’s because I fell face-first for you~” You explain, he was right about it being a part of a pick up line but he still cringed.

“You ruined the joke.” You grumbled while pouting.

You’ve always been like this, making really bad, cheesy, overused pick up lines thinking it’d impress him.

The two of you met in a coffee shop that you worked at, Jihoon, one of his roommates recommended it to him saying it had good coffee and was nice and quiet as long as you don’t go in at rush hour. So he decided to go one day when he didn’t have work, and that day you were working. You remember that day when you saw him, he was absolutely beautiful.

You were taking his order and well when giving him his coffee you thought of giving him your number on his cup. Wonwoo received the cup with the number on it and walked out of the coffee shop to meet up with some friends. He didn’t notice until later when Mingyu pointed out and convinced (read:begged) him to text the number.

He obliged and texted your number asking who this was. You introduced yourself as the person who was serving him and told him he was so pretty and was gonna try and win him over.

He blocked your number.

He didn’t want to seem rude but he didn’t want to deal with some random person he doesn’t know that’s trying to woo him. He’s also just been a strong believer that love at first sight just doesn’t exist.

No one can just grow feelings towards someone that quickly.

He thought that'd be the end of you but that wasn’t until he found you sitting in the living room in his dorm. He thought you were trying to stalk him and threaten to call the auditory. To then realize you were in the same performing arts classes as hoshi and jun, his other roommates and are good friends with them and they invited you over.

And as time passed you two became friends (?) it’s complicated, the two of you would hang out because of friends and sometimes just the two of you. You’d always go on with your lame pick up lines and he'd just simply ignore them and move on.

“Why do you always insist on coming here? You could just go straight home from work. And it’s raining today.”

“Eh, just thought I’d give you some company, you know, it gets quiet in the library when it’s closing time. It gotta be boring.” You shrugged.

Wonwoo finished the turn of the library and went to go get his stuff and you as always followed him. You always did and it wasn’t anything weird. He was used to it but you wouldn’t do anything he wasn’t comfortable with; you always respected his boundaries.

The two of you were outside now with rain falling down crashing to the ground, the sound of it much louder than it was when you two were indoors.

You watch the frown slowly grow on Wonwoo’s face as he looks at the rain.

“Here,” you hand him your umbrella.

“No, no it’s fine the dorm isn’t too far from here, I don’t want you to get sick because of me.” He declines the umbrella, dropping it back into your hands.

“Aww you care about me~” you coo.

He scoffs before mumbling a “whatever”.

“The dorm is not too far from here so I could make a run for it.” He says before dashing off with just a hood over his head.

“Wait!” You yelled at him trying to get his attention, “I brought two just in case.” Take out the other umbrella from your bag.

He didn't hear you, he was just running and you watch his form become smaller and smaller as he runs with you standing there with two umbrellas.

Putting one back in your bag and opening the other, you started walking to your place. Stopping in your tracks when you remember his dorm is not that close to the library.

The next day you weren’t too sure what to do. You didn’t have any classes today and you had a day off from work. Soonyoung and Jun were planning on going to some tiger sanctuary , you didn’t really feel like going.

Ding noise came from your phone, rolling to the other side of your bed to reach over for your phone. You see a text message from Jihoon.

Unplugging the charger from the phone opened up the message.

It was weird for Jihoon to be messaging you, you always thought he hated you. He always looked somewhat annoyed when you were around, but Jun said he’s just always like that. You weren’t even sure if you guys ever exchanged numbers.

Jihoon: yo I got your number from wonwoo’s phone.

Jihoon: Can you come over? Wonwoo is sick and I got work and Jun and soon left already.

Yn: sure but how’d he get sick?

Jihoon: The rain I think he came back soaked yesterday.

So you were right that he would have gotten sick. And he calls himself smart.

Yn: ok I’ll be there just need to stop by somewhere

Wonwoo slightly wakes up at the sudden noise he hears someone enter the room. Jihoon most likely already left, but he did say something about someone coming over, not remembering who because he was too tired.

He hears the footsteps gradually become louder and closer until the footsteps seem to stop in front of him. Looking up to see you, you were putting down a big bag on his nightstand.

“Oh you’re awake? Did I wake up? Sorry.”

“Eh, it’s fine.” His voice sounded scratchy. Before he could even sit up he felt your hand pushing him down back to his previous lying position.

“Rest.” You demanded.

“What’s in the bag?” He sees you in the corner of his eye, as you slowly take everything out of the bag.

“Oh, well Jihoon said you were sick, but I didn’t know exactly what kind of sickness, so I just took one of everything from one of the shelves at the store.”

“Even got you some corn patches.” Holding them to him. With the sleepy boy giving you a strange look, giving him a shrug back.

“But why are you here and buying all this stuff for me?”

You finish taking out everything from the bag and take a seat on the ground next to his bed. “Because I care about you.” You say simply.

“Yn-’’

You interrupted him knowing what he’s gonna say.

“Yea Wonwoo I know you don’t like me the way I do but I mean I still like having you as a friend. Don’t worry the feeling I have for you will leave eventually, but I still care for you, you know.”

There was a silent pause after you said that, you weren’t looking at him, you were looking at the ground kicking your feet side to side at each other. So you just assume that sleep took over him.

“Don’t.”

“Huh?” Lifting your head, seeing his body facing you and watching you with soft, droopy, sleeping eyes.

“Don’t stop having those feelings for me. I don’t want those to leave while mine are starting to arrive.” He mumbled quietly, before taking a sneeze.

Handing him a tissue, letting the gears in your head turn. “Wait, Arrive. What??”

“Yeah, I kinda wish I’m not all snotty sick and sleepy when I confessed.” He admits, letting his head fall back onto his pillow.

“Well you wouldn’t have to if you just took my umbrella yesterday.”

“I didn’t want you to get sick.” He mumbled.

“Awwww, you really do care about me.” You coo pinching his cheek.

Rolling his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” He scoffs.

“Ok maybe I do care about you,” he quickly mumbles.

“So you should leave or you’ll get sick too.”

Shaking your head, “No it’s fine, if I get sick you’ll take care of me I’m not too worried.” You smile at him.

Letting out a sigh knowing that you aren’t gonna leave.

He starts to toss in the bed pulling the blanket higher, looking like he’s ready to go to sleep. You watch as his eyes fall close and his breathing becomes slower.

“You know I had two umbrellas.” You fall backwards giggling at Wonwoo’s reaction.

703 notes · View notes

ceciliasxx · 1 year

Text

—:: Coffeeshop Romance

ln4 | instagram au

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: the world gets to watch as buying a coffee from a small, local coffee shop turns into blooming relationship between two people.

author��s note: coffeeshop aus will always have a special place in my heart because of how cute they are, especially because I work at a coffeeshop myself! 🫶

yourusername

liked by daylightcoffeeco and 1, 496 others

tagged: daylightcoffeeco

yoururername My second home with all my favorite people 🫶

lunaapulomaa y/nnnn you need to tell me when you’re working so I can come visit

— yourusername i’ll text you!

jasmines.garden quick question: do i still get free drinks if i come since i’m your favorite person in the world ?

— yourusername well duh

landonorris

liked by maxfewtrell, daylightcoffeeco, and 294, 385 others

tagged: maxfewtrell and daylightcoffeeco

landonorris Keeping it peaceful before the real work begins for the next race

maxfewtrell golf, golf, golf and more golf

— landonorris and even more gold

— view 81 more replies

daylightcoffeeco Thank you for visting! We hoped you enjoyed your drink, and we hope to see you visit again!

— view 4 replies

lalalandonorr f1 driver to professional golfer pipeline when

— wf1f1forever probably end of 2025

— view 27 replies

mclaren we miss you at the track 🏌️‍♂️🏎️

— view 13 replies

mcmclarensaretractors photographer lando making his return again

landonorris

liked by daylightcoffeeco and 416, 104 others

tagged: daylightcoffeeco

landonorris P5 with even more points on the board and some coffee to celebrate. Livin’ a good life

ln4 once again on the grind 💪

— view 25 replies

mclarenauto Keep up the hard work!

— ln4life you got this lando

— view 12 more replies

mcmcmcclaren congrats lando, the world championship is even closer!!

— view 6 replies

kennedywondra keep pushing lando 🧡

— view 1 reply

allison_harrmond surprised you made it to p5 in the mclaren tractor but congrats

— lizbizzz stop that’s outta pocket 😭

— view 28 replies

yourusername

liked by daylightcoffeeco and 835 others

tagged: daylightcoffeeco

yourusername may or may not be trying a drink recommendation from my maybe crush who frequently visits who i maybe am teaching how to make drinks 🫣

jasmines.garden your maybe what?? have you’ve been forgetting to tell me something???

— yourusername answer my ft rn

— jasmines.garden on it

daylightcoffeeco So, what was the rating on the drink then?

— yourusername 9.5/10

landonorris

liked by yourusername and 305, 194 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris learning, improving, and having fun

ln4 lando retiring from being an f1 driver to become a barista? always count us in. 🧡

— view 24 replies

maxfewtrell interesting change in career

— landonorris wanna join?

— maxfewtrell sure mate

— view 38 more replies

mclarenauto What can’t Lando do?

— view 12 replies

liliana_casbelt i swear lando is just good at everything he tries

— trellastella no because literally

— view 2 more replies

starsaboveserena imagine walking into a coffee shop and your barista is lando norris

— mc2023laren i’d have a heart attack

— view 6 more replies

yourusername

liked by landonorris and 1, 017 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername I didn’t think this year would have simple drink recommendations turn into dates, but I’m not complaining at all 🥹

celesteslife4u totally not jealous of you not at all, and totally not crying

— yourusername dw you’ll always be #1

in my heart

landonorris i’m finally unblocked, let’s gooooo

— andibandi @/yourusername you had

your boyfriend blocked??

— yourusername for a little bit, in my

defense, it was before we were dating

because i was too embarrassed to let

him see my posts

daylightcoffeeco Aw, what a cute couple, we’re so happy we were able to help your relationship flourish!

— yourusename <3

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #lando norris x y/n #lando norris insta au #lando norris imagine #f1 x reader #f1

534 notes · View notes

iam93percentstardust · 2 months

Note

for your kiss prompts, i think ""i think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me"" has big Tony energy 💋

Aha! I return! Just like before, this is Part 1 of a 3-part fic combined from the other two prompts in my inbox

Hope you enjoy! <3

Steve had almost said no when Natasha set him up on yet another blind date. He’s been on way too many of those things and he’s getting tired of them. It’s not that the people she recommends are bad but none of them have clicked with him like he was hoping for when she’d first suggested the idea. Natasha is a great matchmaker; she’s set up most of the people in their circle of friends. And after years of trying and failing to find a long-term partner, Steve had been willing to take a chance on just about anyone. He’d had high hopes for her suggestions, though; after all, no one else had seen the potential in Sam and Bucky. But none of them had worked out.

When she’d come to him with another date after the last failure, he’d almost turned her down. He’d been planning on turning her down. He’s still not sure how she’d talked him into agreeing to just one more blind date.

But he’s glad that he did because Tony is amazing. He’s funny and smart and a great tipper, which is always a plus in Steve’s book. He listens intently as Steve talks about his art and doesn’t go so over his head when he’s talking about his own work in robotics. They don’t agree on anything but the big things, but somehow, arguing with Tony over his favorite books and movies and hot drinks is more fun than if they liked all of the same things.

He had walked to the restaurant since he lives only a few blocks away. As it turns out, so does Tony, though in the opposite direction, so Steve offers to walk him home because his ma raised a gentleman. Tony looks delighted at the hand that Steve offers him and takes it, shyly confessing that he’s never had a partner who wanted to hold hands in public (Steve would like to hunt down every person who never wanted to be seen in public with him).

When they reach Tony’s apartment—a much nicer building than the one Steve lives in, all gilded Art Deco and bright open spaces—Tony tugs them to a stop just under the awning.

“This was really nice,” he says. “I’d like to do this again.”

“Oh good, me too,” Steve replies around a relieved sigh and then immediately wants to put his face in his hands. That probably sounded too eager, didn’t it? He’s supposed to play it cool, say something like ‘yeah, sure,’ right?

Tony, however, just giggles. “It’s nice not having to worry if you’re playing games,” he says. Oh. That makes things better.

“So I guess we should exchange phone numbers, then?” he asks. It’s been so long since he cared about a second date that he’s forgotten how this is supposed to go.

“Probably,” Tony agrees and waits for Steve to pull out his phone so he can recite his number. Steve texts him a quick This is Steve, so Tony will have his number.

“Guess I should wish you a goodnight, then,” Steve says, kind of wishing that the night never had to end.

“You don’t think you’re forgetting something?” Tony looks very amused.

Steve thinks back over the night. He’s got his wallet, he has Tony’s phone number, they’ve agreed to see each other again. “…No?”

“I think this is the part where you’re supposed to kiss me,” Tony says.

“Oh!” Steve exclaims. “You’d—you’d like that?”

Tony steps in closer to him, running his hands over Steve’s shoulders. “Yeah, big guy, I’d like that a lot.”

Well, Steve can kiss him. That’s totally something he can do. That’s—Tony kisses him first, tasting like strawberry daiquiris and powdered sugar from the dessert they’d shared. Steve’s hands settle on his hips, fingers digging into the probably-expensive fabric of his shirt. His eyes flutter closed, his mind blank, existing in the moment instead of worrying about what happens next.

It comes to an end all too soon. Tony steps back, and Steve’s eyes open again in time to see his soft smile.

“Goodnight, Tony,” Steve murmurs.

Tony leans in to kiss his cheek. “Goodnight, Steve. I’ll text you.”

“Okay,” he agrees, thinking it’ll be the next day before Tony contacts him for another date. But to his surprise, he’s barely gone two feet down the street before his phone buzzes.

He pulls it out and can’t help smiling at the message: Are you free tomorrow?

Alright, so maybe Natasha’s pretty good at this after all.

#stevetony #alle writes #alle answers

48 notes · View notes

mischiefmanaged71 · 1 year

Note

can I request a grumpy x sunshine trope with tom bennett, where reader is the sunshine one and tom is the grumpy one? thank you so much! I adore your work to death ❤️

midnight rain

Summary: She was sunshine, he was midnight rain.

Where the grumpy flirt next door meets sunshine who knows just how to deal with him.

A/N: Immediately went into the works! I love this trope! The way I immediately jumped right into this and finished it so quickly. The ideas write themselves xx

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem! Reader

Tom noticed her from the first glance. He recognised the lost look in her eyes as she scanned the street with confusion twisting her delicate features. He appreciated the beauty for a second, then his better judgement escaped him and he waved a hand to grab her attention.

“Lost?”

Her head flickered upward and he withheld a chuckle at the doe-eyed look. “What?”

“You lost? You’re wandering about, is all.” Tom noted with a hand, waving the cigarette in his hand as he leaned against the wall.

She felt her face flush, stepping toward the blonde. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find the post office?”

“You’re about a block down.” he gestured to the right far end of the street. His right, that is.

“Thanks.” she smiled, shying away from his upturned smile.

“You new in town?”

“What gave me away?”

His lips turned upward, “Well you don’t talk like you’re from here, for one.”

She mustered a sheepish smile at that, nodding her head.

“Town’s pretty small. Everyone knows everyone. Besides, I’d remember you.”

A laugh escaped her mouth as she titled her head at the remark. “Should’ve seen that coming. Yeah, I’m actually looking for a place. New job, and all.”

“Where at?”

“St Mary’s hospital. I’m a nurse.”

He hummed, “Ah, so I know where to go if I ever get into trouble.”

“Is that a frequent thing?”

“Trouble follows me, it seems.” he mused, a puff of smoke falling from his lips. “At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“That’s not very nice.” she stated, catching as he raised his eyebrows at her. “Of people. To talk about you like that.”

He shrugged, a knowing look behind his eyes. “What if it’s true?”

“I like to think everyone has a reason for their actions. You can’t make assumptions about a person based on gossip.”

A puff released from his mouth as he regarded the curious woman, intrigued by her optimistic persona. “I suppose. And what do you think?”

“Far too early to assume anything.” she concluded, flickering to meet his eyes. Y/N raised her eyebrows. “What do they call you?”

“Well, I’ve been called many things.” he huffed, extending his hand.

She blinked before accepting the hand, her smaller one engulfed by his. His touch was warm and gentle as he grasped her hand and shook it. “Tom is what I prefer.”

And she smiled, giving her name in return as they forgot to let go.

***

It was a few weeks later when Y/N finally settled into the flat she was able to rent at an affordable price. On her day off, she decided to bake and share the sweets with her new neighbours next door, having seen the young woman living in the house. Making friends in a new place was always difficult, but the young lady looked around her age so it would hopefully be easier with a gesture.

She turned up to their doorstep, gift in hand and knocked gently on the door. Y/N teetered on her feet, anxiously awaiting an answer before the door opened. She wore a smile, expecting the young lady to open the door. To her better surprise, she met a pair of blue eye and that golden blonde hair. Her eyes widened slightly, heart skipping a beat at the proximity of her standing so close to the gentleman. She felt herself pause for a moment before she finally registered that he spoke.

“Hi.” she managed.

“Hello.” he wore that distinct smirk, his eyes creasing slightly. “Back again.”

“Yeah. I-I actually just moved in.” she gestured to the flat next door.

Tom leaned against the doorway. “We’re neighbours, are we? Was that intentional or?”

“No-coincidence. In fact, my uncle recommended it. He used to live ‘round here before he moved for work.”

Tom nodded, glancing at her hands. “What’s that?”

“Oh, I thought you and your family would appreciate some sweets.” she smiled, handing him the plate.

He glanced between her and the plate, inhaling the scent of the chocolate. “You didn’t need an excuse to drop by. You could’ve asked.”

“It wasn’t.” she replied. “I enjoy baking. Besides, I can’t eat it all myself anyway.”

He nodded, “What other sweet things do you do?”

“What do you mean?”

Tom chuckled, “I mean the whole sunshine act. You smile all the time, your nice, and you bake. Is that all the time or are you just sweet with me?”

Y/N furrowed her brows, staring at him. “I guess I’ve always been like this.”

She leaned closer, “And no, it’s not for you. I try to be kind to everyone. To treat people with kindness and receive it back.”

From the huff that escaped his mouth, she studied Tom closer. “What? You don’t believe that?”

“No, because people will screw you over. Every chance. Unless they want something, of course.”

“Not everything is fake. Some people are actually genuine.” she retorted. “Like how you helped me the other day, right?”

“Sure, but that’s not generally how people are.”

“Like how you try to act all suave and closed off?”

“I’m don’t try to put on anything.”

Y/N hummed, “Telling. What do you even do for fun around here?”

“There’s lots to do. I can show you.” he leaned closer.

“And there it is again.” she mused, a smile on her face. She flushed under his stare, flickering away from his handsome smirk. “Do you ever smile or is that smirk permanent?”

His eyes softened, flickering from her eyes to her lips. “You're always blushing all the time...it's almost cute."

"And are you really this smug 24/7?"

"Smug?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "I'm not smug.”

She smiled up at him, “No. You’re just grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy. Not everyone can smile that much. Well, maybe except for you."

She shrugged, "Guess not."

***

Tom had told her he was trouble from the first moment, and while she agreed to some degree that he was mischief incarnate. He had tendencies that meant he lived on impulsive decisions which got him into trouble sometimes, but he mostly meant well. He was a good person with certainly some misguided intentions when it came to priorities.

Although, when it came to her, Tom was a grumpy blessing in disguise. He was a welcome sight at her doorstep after a long shift at the hospital, offering company and relief from her stress. He was always quick witted, managing to bring a smile to her tired self on any occasion, to which she was grateful.

Over coming months, Tom and the Bennett family became a regular part of her life as she became accustomed to their own household. Douglas and Lois came to know her through her regular visits which turned into dinners- not to forget the drop in visits before or after work. While Tom didn’t have regular work, he certainly found himself busy with capturing Y/N’s attention when she wasn’t working at the hospital. Both his dad and sister were fine with the idea, given the young lady managed to keep him out of certain trouble with her around. She was always there with a kind smile that contrasted to Tom’s smug smirk and mischief. His dad had remarked that one morning, they were a sight together.

She was anxiously pacing their doorstep that morning when she had received no answer from the Bennett’s house. Of course, she supposed they could be out, but the entire family rarely left. Tom usually was round this time, and they had agreed last week to meet at the time. The figures in the distance brought her attention to the Bennetts, Tom leading the group. Relief filled her until she saw the grievance evident on Mr Bennett’s face. He and Lois greeted her politely, ushering inside, leaving her and Tom outside.

“What happened?” her hands rested on her waist.

“Police came round yesterday.” he replied, “Sorry ‘bout missing our plan.”

She shook her head. “It’s fine. What did you do?”

“What makes you think it was my fault?”

“I can easily ask your dad. He’s just inside.” she tilted her head to the door.

He blinked at her, glancing away as he sighed. “Fine. Something about the other night. I got into somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be.”

She shook her head. “Couldn’t find anything else to do while I’m at work?”

“Well, you take all the fun with you, I’m not left with many options.”

“You’ve got to stop this.” she met his blue eyes, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. “How’d you get out anyway?”

A smirk grew on his lips and he shrugged as if it were nothing. “Said I’d join up and they were quick to let me out.”

“You what?” she gasped, her voice dropping. “You said you’d join?”

“I’m not actually going to join up, love.” he stared down at her.

She ignored the flush of her face at that nickname from his lips. “Don’t you think they’ll find out?”

“Not if I’m a conscientious objector. They won’t do anything.” Tom stated, as though he had it all thought out.

“Since when have you been a pacifist?” she asked.

“Bout half hour ago.” his nose scrunched, the smirk floating to his lips.

Y/N shook her head, sighing deeply. “What do I do with you?”

His eyes widened slightly, “Well, I hope you keep me ‘round.”

“So long as you stop this. Gonna give me a heart attack if the police catch you again. Alright? No more visits, otherwise.”

Tom raised his hands, floating closer to her. His warm breath hit her face as he hovered over her, whispering sweetly. "I'll do that just because you asked."

***

The next morning, she hurried out of her flat to head to the Bennetts for the day when Tom greeted her on her doorstep. She caught him as his hand let the front door, surprised at his appearance.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I was just-” he stuttered uncharacteristically, “I-uh need to talk to you. Is that alright?”

She blinked at him, nodding. “Of course. Come inside.”

Y/N noticed the tension in the air. Not the comfortable air that usually surrounded them. The content feeling was replaced by an air of the unknown as she awaited Tom’s explanation.

“Is everything alright?” she glanced over his face, recognising the tension between his furrowed brows. His lips formed a tight line, his blue eyes not meeting her’s until- she held her breath, her eyes burning at the realisation hitting her. The guilty expression reflected in his stare as he opened his mouth. She knew within a moment what would fall from his lips before he spoke.

Please don’t

She begged in her mind, repeating it over again.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Y/N felt gutted all the same, hearing it spoken aloud. A ringing sounded in her ears as she stared at him, studying and memorising every part of his face. She still asked him all the same, not wanting to believe it despite the truth of it.

“What?”

"I have to join up."

For once, he was met with silence, which was somehow more unsettling than the barrage of words his dad had for him.

"What changed?" she asked, her quiet voice loud in the silent flat.

Tom looked at her sadly, clasping his hands. "I don't have a choice. Dad won't put me up with them, and I can't stay. Otherwise..."

Tears welled in her eyes at the realisation, pursing her lips in a tight line. "Do you know how long you'll be gone?"

"No."

Y/N nodded, blinking away the tears as her heart beated faster in her chest. Tom clenched his jaw, pulling her into his arms as a sigh escaped his mouth. "You'd better come back."

“I will. I'll try my best. Can't promise you anything, but-"

"I won't accept anything less than a promise." She met his eyes. "People die every day, but you do whatever you need to get back here."

"I can never say no to you, can I?" he smiled, ducking his head to press against her forehead. "I'll do my best not to break it then."

***

News arrived, but it wasn’t what she was expecting that day. It began with word of the HMS Exeter being attacked. 61 soldiers were killed, 24 were injured and the ship was pulling up back to the shore. A knock sounded at her door, shaking her from the trance she was in.

“You hear?” Lois asked, seeing the pallor of the woman’s face.

Y/N nodded, “He’ll be fine, right? It’s Tom.”

“He’s too stubborn. They’ll have to do worse to stop him from comin’ back.”

Two days later, on her walk home from work, her heart skipped a beat at the familiar blonde standing at her door. He smirked upon seeing her widened eyes.

"I brought you a canary." he held up the cage, placing it on the ledge.

She shook her head and leapt into his arms, clutching onto him as a lifeline. Her eyes fell shut as she withheld those tears.

“Don’t do that to me.” she breathed.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, caressing her head.

Soon enough, she ushered him inside and he discussed all that had happened on the tour. There was a sombre mood that caused her to trip up, recognising the slight change in his demeanour.

“What else happened?”

He flickered to meet her eyes, playing his fingers as they sat on the bed. Tom pursed his lips, shaking off the nerves. “I saw a few mates...they got caught in an explosion. I was the only one to get out unscathed.”

Tom looked up at her from his lowered position on the bed, leaning up on an arm. Her hand darted out to him. “I just-I feel this...guilt.”

“You shouldn’t.” she stated, despite the scoff that he restrained. “You survived. It’s terrible and I’m sorry about your friend. It just means that you need to make the most of what you’ve got.”

His eyes darted down, his voice shaking. “I'm afraid.”

Something shattered in her chest at the fear in his voice. Her hand darted out to push his hair back from his beautiful features, comforting him as he tucked away.

“Dad wants me to go back.”

Her eyes widened, “What’d you tell him?”

“Exactly that...I don’t wanna go back to that. I can’t watch people die. I won’t kill anyone.”

She nodded, listening intently to his words as she felt a part of herself shattering. “Try again. Your dad’s understanding, first. I’ll be here, no matter what you choose. I know you’ll do what’s best.”

"How do you always do that?" he pondered.

She tilted her head, “Do what?"

"Make it easier." Tom sighed, "Everything is...quiet when I'm around you. It's easier with you."

"I'm glad. You could smile more." she chuckled as he tickled her neck.

"Please don't look sad. I can't handle it." Tom pleaded, “Smile for me, so I can remember that image each and every day.”

There is another heartfelt goodbye that evening, and she is left with those same butterflies in her stomach as his touch left.

Two days later on her doorstep is the answer to her question. She held him tighter that day, a whisper of a kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth. She memorises the corners of his face, the warmth of his touch on her skin. The blue of his eyes and the feeling of his soft hair beneath her fingertips. The goodbye brings tears to her eyes that fall, only to meet his soft caresses as her brushed them away.

She bit her lip, mustering a wistful smile for him. A promise fell from her mouth. "I'll be waiting for you."

***

In the end, she hoped that the pain of the previous occasion would be a once off. Listening to the radio each and every morning was a norm in her flat, however, it became a nerve-wrecking moment when the news arrived. The HMS Exeter had, in fact, been performing a rescue mission of British soldiers from the beach at Dunkirk when an attack killed and injured many.

They were awaiting numbers from the Allied forces in France. Tallies of survivors would be relayed when available. At the moment, they were left with only the question of whether their loved ones would be on the lists of the missing, or the deceased. Over the coming weeks, Lois had watched the spiral in her. The dimming light as she failed to bring that smile to her face with the essence of her light gone.

He was the light to reignite that spark in her. And when Tom Bennett returned on her doorstep, her swept Y/N off her feet. The man refused to prolong the moment any further as he pressed his lips to her’s.

TAGS

@pearlstiare @chainsawsangel @aemonds-sapphire @xcharlottemikaelsonx @padfooteyes @batsyforyou @yentroucnagol @cl-0-vr @viviartsy @h3k3t @arcana-greenleaf @yummycastiel @lauraneedstochill @rntrsna @schniiipsel @caribbeangal @ccosmic-illusion @aemonds-wifey

#tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #ewan mitchell #world on fire #aemond #aemond x reader #tom bennett x you

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eoieopda · 10 months

Text

meet me at the bar: epilogue

pairing: kim seokjin x reader type: drabble — meet me at the bar’s epilogue au: law school/bar exam, est. relationship word count: 1.2k rating: pg13 genre: fluff summary: as it turns out, there is life after the bar exam. a/n: i suppose this does make sense outside the context of the one-shot, but i def recommend reading that first ✨ like the OG, this epilogue is dedicated to mj (@yoongiphoria), who army (get it? 👀) crawled through the ringer and lived to tell the tale! so excited to eventually welcome you to the profession, bb 💕 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

Seokjin sits at a small cafe table. In front of him sit two things: one he’s sure of and one he’s not.

“This is barbaric,” you mutter under your breath.

You hit the refresh button on your browser again, the same way you have — on a second-by-second basis — since you both sat down. Crazed, your eyes flick up to Seokjin. You repeat yourself emphatically, “Barbarism, Seokjin. Do you hear me?”

He tries his best to keep a straight face, so he pulls his coffee mug to his lips and hides his smile behind the rim. You look back down again before you can even see him nod in agreement. Of course, you go right back to assaulting the touchpad of your laptop.

You’re not wrong, not in the slightest. The Office of Bar Admissions just put you through the most treacherous experience of your academic and professional lives, and it wasn’t done fucking with you. Now that you’d survived the exam itself, you had to sit and wait — not just for your results, but for potential public humiliation.

Everyone who has a stake in this exam — test takers and prospective employers — and anyone who doesn’t — friends, relatives, professors, underclassmen, sundry assholes, etc. — can log onto this extremely public, government website at eight o’clock this morning. If they do, they’ll see a list of names: every single person that passed this exam and would be admitted to the practice of law.

Likewise, anyone can easily find out whose names are missing. Broadcasted at lightning speed, your business becomes everyone else’s. Whether you want to or not, you have to share your greatest success — or biggest disappointment — with whoever the fuck might want to look for it.

Scrubbing your anxious hands over your face, you sigh, “I think I’d rather stand naked in the middle of Lotte World. I mean it; that would be infinitely less horrifying than this.”

“For you, maybe.”

Seokjin grins, sets his mug down, and nudges your untouched plate closer to you. On any other morning, you would’ve inhaled that breakfast sandwich by now. Today, however, you’re on a self-imposed hunger strike until you have answers.

“For the unsuspecting onlookers, I think that would be a criminal offense.”

You roll your eyes, but when you reset them, you’re looking straight at him.

It’s the way anyone would dream of being looked at, he thinks. Like every annoying thing about him is still somehow endearing, worth loving — and that little smile of yours is all for him. Just like that, he’s blushing in the middle of a café, not giving a shit who sees.

Crashing through his thoughts, the alarm you set goes off with a wail, like you’re being summoned to an air-raid shelter rather than notified of the time. You scurry to grab it. Fumbling to turn that siren off, you cast panicked glances around the room to find anyone you might owe an apology for startling. As usual, it’s just the two of you.

You spit it all out so fast that Seokjin can hardly keep up.

“Will you still love me if I shit myself in the café? Because I fucking might, and I need to know if a break-up is going to be added to my list of rejections this morning.”

There are nervous talkers, and then there’s you. You worry in X-Games mode like it’s nobody’s business — and honestly, it’s kind of impressive.

“My whole family is going to know before I can even disclose failure myself and I —”

Seokjin doesn’t know if anything he might say would comfort you, but he’s at least slightly worried that you’ll anxiety-barf onto your laptop. To minimize the collateral damage, he reaches across the table, picks it up, and pulls it over to his side.

As if he just pulled the plug on your life-support machines, you slump down into your chair. There, your head droops against the metal back with a small thud. You then stare up at the ceiling like you’re actively watching your soul leave your body.

“No matter what happens, we’ll be okay.” He assures you while refreshing the browser. “I promise.”

Funnily enough, trying to keep you calm has made him feel the most stable he ever has. One of you has to keep your collective shit together; and it’s clearly not going to be you, so he’s committed to remaining zipped on your behalf. His fingers don’t even shake as he scrolls down that godforsaken list, scanning with narrowed eyes.

“Well?” You urge.

After a few seconds of listening to your knee bouncing underneath the table, Seokjin closes your laptop and sets it down slowly. He takes a deep, measured breath before he finally looks back up at you. With how unabashedly freaked out you are, it’s a miracle that he can’t feel your pulse from the other side of the table.

“So, I have bad news —” He starts with a sigh.

You freeze.

“— We can’t add esquire to our email signatures until after we’re sworn in, which will apparently be two weeks from now.”

The last thought Seokjin has before being tackled to the ground is that he’s thankful nobody else came in for coffee this morning.

The first thought he has when he reopens his eyes, now flat on his back, and sees that insane look on your face — a mix of terror, annoyance, disbelief, and excitement — is that he was right when he decided never to doubt you. More importantly, he was right that you truly are capable of anything.

Up to and including public displays of aggression.

Damn does he love you.

You sit back on your heels but you don’t make any moves to get off of him. With a shaky laugh, you say, “I think I have to kill you for that.”

“Understandable,” he demurs, shrugging. Then, he reaches up to swipe a tear off your cheek with the pad of his thumb, smiling sweetly. “Just don’t represent yourself at trial over it, okay?”

Playfully, you swat at his chest before clambering off of him. Once you make it steadily to your feet, the same hand that smacked him is held out to help him up. He takes it without hesitation.

Back at his full height, he accepts the arms you lace around his neck, swoons just a little when you push up on tiptoe. You kiss him softly, but it hits hard. That gentle brush of your lips makes his knees so weak that he fears he’ll end up on the ground again.

You pull away breathy. Though your eyes are a little bit misty, you grin like you can’t help it. For the record, he can’t, either. You sigh, “I genuinely cannot believe that I survived this bullshit.”

“Really?” Seokjin asks, eyebrows raised.

His arms wrap around your waist to hold you closer, allowing you to nestle your face into his sweatshirt. He means it, so he says it with his whole chest and hopes you hear it: “I was sure you would.”

“Don’t think I would’ve been able to do it without you,” you mumble into the fabric.

“You could have,” he murmurs. Leaning down, he kisses the top of your head before continuing, “But you didn’t have to.”

The two of you stand like that for a while — wholly entangled in the middle of a café, in broad ass daylight — without speaking. It helps him try to wrap his brain around it all. After all, the landscape is different now than it was an hour ago; and unless he’s fully lost it, Seokjin swears that the grass really is greener.

For the first time ever, he doesn’t feel the weight of the dreaded unknown pushing down on his shoulders. He just feels you leaning against him and an unfamiliar sense of peace. All of that gratification he’s delayed his whole life, too, as it falls right into his hands.

But Seokjin’s not great with that whole thoughtful silence thing, so he smirks, “Gonna call me counselor in bed now, jagi?”

Your head snaps back so quickly, you could’ve decapitated yourself. Incredulous, your eyes narrow as your mouth pops open. Instantly, the look on your face pulls that windshield wiper laugh out of him; so, he slaps his hand over his mouth to keep quiet.

You challenge him with eyebrows raised sky-high. “Gonna make me file a cease and desist letter?”

#bts #kim seokjin #seokjin x reader #seokjin fluff #seokjin drabble #seokjin imagine #seokjin scenarios #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts imagine #bts scenarios #ksj #jade writes #re: meet me at the bar #micdropnet

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purplephantomwolf · 6 months

Text

Savoring the Finish Line

Chapter Three

Story Synopsis: Max Verstappen falls in love with a woman who owns a bakery.

Note: This is not an accurate portrayal of how the real people in this act. I do not know them personally, so I will not be portraying them accurately. Also, this is not an accurate portrayal with how a bakery works. I did my best with research, but it's not 100%.

Warnings for this chapter: Badly translated French, mention of panic attack

Previous chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two

Next chapter: Chapter Four

Masterlist

December 19, 2021

I slam my hand down onto my phone, turning the alarm off. I feel the bed jolt as Elise and Lacey jump onto it. I laugh as they nudge my face, trying to wake me up more. “I’m up, I’m up,” I mumble, sitting up. My dogs jump off the bed and run to the stairs. I climb out of bed and get ready to take them outside. Clipping on the leashes, I let Elise and Lacey lead me outside. We wander around the block, the dogs sniffing the same things they do every day. They need to make sure that nothing has changed in the past 24 hours.

The puppies take off upstairs once we arrive home. I follow them up the stairs, making sure they have enough food and water for the day. “Okay, girls. I need you to behave for me,” I say, giving both of them kisses on their heads. I reach the bottom of the stairs as Louis and Estelle walk through the front door. “Good morning, Estelle. Good morning, Louis,” I greet them.

“Good morning, Adaline. How did the rest of your night go?” Louis asks, heading for the office.

“Really interesting!” I laugh. Louis and Estelle stop to look at me, both of them raising their eyebrows. “I forgot to lock the door after you guys left, and I had an unexpected visitor,” I start to explain.

Louis interrupts me before I can tell them who the visitor was. “That’s dangerous! You can’t forget to lock the doors!” He scolds me.

“I know, I know! But this was a good visitor! It was Max Verstappen!” I respond. Louis’ mouth drops open. Estelle looks between us.

“Max Verstappen? Isn’t he that Formula 1 driver?” Estelle asks, looking confused.

“Yeah, he’s the one who won the world championship this year,” Louis turns to her. He turns back to me, looking sceptical, “Are you sure it was Max Verstappen? You weren’t in some fever dream?” I scoff, rolling my eyes. I put my hands on my hips.

“Yes, I’m sure. Considering he spent at least 30 minutes here, I don’t think I was hallucinating or having a fever dream,” I smile. “Now come on, we’re opening soon!” I wave my hands, shooing them into the office to put their stuff up.

“Too bad it wasn’t Charles,” Louis calls, as I’m about to enter the kitchen. Louis and I have a playful rivalry going on as he’s an avid Charles fan. I laugh, shaking my head. I enter the kitchen, getting everything in the bakery ready for the day.

I hear the door’s bell ring right at 6 am, as I’m putting some croissants in the oven. “Adaline, there’s someone here who would like to see you,” I hear Louis call. My eyebrows knit in confusion. I wipe my hands on my apron as I walk out of the kitchen.

“Oh, bonjour Max!” I greet him. I walk up the counter. I feel both Estelle’s and Louis’ presence behind me.

“Bonjour, Adaline,” Max smiles at me, before looking at the menu. As he looks at it, I turn to Louis, mouthing I told you so. He just shrugs, before I turn back to Max. “What would you recommend? My trainer told me to pick something up for us for after working out,” Max asks, looking from the display to me.

I hum, thinking. “Well, I assume you’re going to want something light. I’d go with either some scones or croissants.” Max nods, looking at our options of scones and croissants.

“Can I take two of your blueberry scones and two of your regular croissants?” He asks.

“Of course,” I say, grabbing a bag. As Louis rings up Max, I grab his pastries. “Have a good day, Max,” I smile.

“You too, Adaline,” he says, waving bye. I wave back as he leaves. I whirl around, looking at Louis. “I told you!” I laugh. Louis holds his hands up.

“Alright! Alright! I believe you now!” Louis laughs. I laugh as I walk back into the kitchen to continue baking.

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

December 28, 2021

I look up from placing some pastries on the display as the bell on the door rings. “Good afternoon, Max. Did you have a good Christmas?” I grin.

“I did! I spent it with my family back in the Netherlands. Did you have a good one?” Max smiles. I nod, finishing up the display.

“I did. I spent it with Louis and Estelle,” I say, “Now, what can I get you?” Max takes a look at the display and then the menu.

“I’ll try one of your cupcakes and a pain du chocolat,” he answers.

“Good choices, good choices. These cupcakes are my guilty pleasure,” I say, grabbing a cupcake and pain du chocolat. I place them in our to go box and ring up Max.

“Where are Estelle and Louis?” Max asks, looking around and taking the box from me.

“I give them the days off between Christmas and New Years. The bakery never gets so busy that I need to have them working at all, but I like the company. Plus they’re basically like my parents,” I shrug. Max walks to one of our tables and sits down.

“Okay. Tell them hi for me next time you see them,” Max says. He shifts in his seat a couple of times. He opens his mouth to say something else but then closes it.

“Everything okay, Max?” I ask, concerned. I sit down across from him, waiting to see if he’ll tell me.

“I wanted to thank you for helping me through the panic attack the other week. I’ve never had one before, so I didn’t know what to do,” Max explains.

“Max, you don’t have to thank me for helping you. I know how tough they are to go through alone. I wouldn’t want anyone to experience that,” I softly smile.

“Okay, but I still wanted to thank you, so I thought I’d give you this as a thank you,” he says, sliding me an envelope. I look at him confused, picking up the envelope. I open it and gasp. Inside is a paddock pass to the Red Bull garage.

“Max! I can’t take this! You didn’t have to get me anything as a thank you!” I exclaim, pushing it back towards him.

“I wanted to,” he says, pushing it back to me. “It’s a pass to the Red Bull garage during the Bahrain Grand Prix. It should get you in on all three days.” I take the pass and inspect it.

“Thank you, Max,” I say, looking up. He just smiles and takes a bite of his cupcake. The bell rings as someone enters. “Thank you again, Max.” I stand up and walk behind the counter. “Hello, welcome to Delicieux Gateries!” I greet the customer. As I take their order, Max waves bye. I wave back, before continuing with the customer.

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

January 17, 2022

“Welcome back, Max,” I grin, as he walks through the door.

“Thank you, Adaline. How is your day going?” Max explains, smiling.

“It’s been quite alright. Louis and Estelle left for vacation earlier today, so it’ll be just me for the next week. How has training been going?” I ask, taking up my place at the register.

“It’s been going well. We have a pre-season track session in Spain here in a month, so training has gotten tougher,” he answers, “I’ve tried your cupcakes, pain du chocolat, blueberry scones, and croissants. What would you recommend next?”

“Well, we have the choux a la creme or the kouign-amann. I just made fresh batches of both of those,” I think aloud.

“I’ll try one of both of those then!” Max exclaims. I nod and get to work packing them up for him. As I pack them up, he asks me about Bahrain. “So, do you have a hotel for Bahrain yet?”

“I do! I fly in on the Tuesday before the race and then leave on the following Monday. I wanted a few days to explore the city before the race,” I answer. I finish with Max’s order as he nods.

“I fly in on the seventh because we have pre-season testing the weekend before. Hopefully, I’ll get to see you before it all gets hectic for the race,” Max tells me.

“I hope so, too. If not, I’ll be cheering for you from your garage,” I grin.

“You’re right. Well, I’ll see you in Bahrain. Have a good day, Adaline,” Max says, heading for the door.

“See you in Bahrain, Max. Have a good day,” I wave bye.

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

Taglist: @milaeth

#max verstappen #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 story #f1 imagines #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen story #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen stories

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em-dash-press · 2 years

Text

Tons of Reasons Why Writer's Block Happens

Lately I've seen a few posts on social media platforms being shared that are (supposedly) quotes from well-known authors. The quotes generally stick to the theme of: writer's block isn't real! No worries! It's just in your head!

Like...

That is so unhelpful for me and if I had seen those people (again, supposedly) saying that when I was much younger and newer to writing, I would have thought something was wrong with me.

So here are a few reasons why writer's block IS real for many people and what you can do about it. (Warning—this is a long text post but I tried putting all suggested solutions in bullet points and have lots of resource hyperlinks!)

You Can’t Write Because: You’re Tired

Sleep affects the entire body. There’s no question that when I don’t get enough of it, my brain isn’t working as well as it normally does.

Let’s start this section with what everyone should acknowledge—mental health conditions absolutely prevent people from being able to use tips like Just turn the lights off earlier! or Think calming thoughts while taking deep breaths!

If those work for you, great. Fantastic! But if they don’t, your doctor is the best person to get advice from. They can work through symptoms with you to rule out conditions like depression and insomnia so you get the best help possible.

Besides your mental health, there are a few other ways you might not be able to fall asleep or stay asleep:

You enjoy drinking afternoon coffee (most have a half life of 3-5 hours, so the caffeine doesn’t actually leave your system for a long time!)

You have a diet soda with your lunch or dinner (most diet sodas have the same amount of caffeine as a half cup to a whole cup of coffee)

You eat a midnight snack or a dessert after dinner (the extra digestion works against your body’s circadian rhythm and prevents a normal sleep cycle)

Potential Solutions

Swap your afternoon coffee/sodas for caffeine free sodas instead

Eat high-protein snacks shortly after or during dinner (protein keeps you full longer so you can eat them earlier in the evening)

Follow some tips from sleep experts with the Sleep Foundation

You Can’t Write Because: Your Routine Is Changing/Has Changed

When my life has gone through routine changes, my creativity has always slowed (if not stopped altogether). Switching from high school to college, from college to graduate life, and even from apartment to apartment is a big deal. My writing slows when I change jobs, see my friends less/more often, and even when the holidays come and go.

If you think this might be a repeat experience in your life, my best advice is to give yourself grace. Your brain is only trying to conserve energy and process everything that’s going on.

Potential Solutions

Resting and gently reattempting to write without expectations of what will come out of that writing session is sometimes the best thing to do until life settles back down.

If you can’t come to peace with changes, I’d suggest talking with someone. You can access help for free at:

7 Cups of Tea (chat with volunteer listeners and professional counselors)

Get in-person or virtual therapy through Open Path ($30-60/session with a one-time membership fee; aims to close the financial gap that keeps people from accessing mental health professionals).

Check out other budget-friendly therapy options recommended by the medical community.

You Can’t Write Because: You’re Grappling With Indecisions

Indecision is a creativity killer for sure. I’ll address a few ways I’ve experienced it and how I know my friends have struggled with it:

You only have a few story ideas and don’t want to commit to any of them in case some idea comes along that’s more interesting (I hate leaving unfinished drafts too!)

You wonder how you should format your story and never start because you can’t decide (it might be the point of view, past/present tense, etc.)

You can’t nail down how a character looks, what sets them apart, what drives them.

You can’t decide on a theme because there’s so much you want to write about.

You don’t know how long the story should be, so it never starts.

Potential Solutions

Try new things to come to peace with unfinished drafts (I have a folder on my computer specifically labeled “Unfinished Stories” because I’m more comfortable when they have a home).

Practice writing one page within your story’s world from a different point of view or tense. See what feels most natural or authentic to you.

Do character research by looking at pictures of people on stock photo websites or Pinterest.

Story length is often found after someone just starts writing. You’ll naturally find a rhythm and come to a conclusion at the right length for your first draft. Revise/add if needed!

My most important tip might be—

Give your gut 24 hours (go with your gut on whatever you’re trying to decide, then set your work down. Come back in 24 hours to see if you feel as strongly about your creative decision).

You Can’t Write Because: You’ve Got Too Many Ideas

When there are too many creative ideas in your brain, it leads to anxiety and potential writer’s block. I know I’ve had the fear that I’ll commit to the “wrong” story and another one will come to life in my mind, but then be gone by the time I’m ready to write it.

Potential Solutions

Write all of your ideas down in a list (bold, highlight, or star whichever ones seem super promising at the time so they stand out when you’re ready for a new project)

Try stream of consciousness journaling for 30 seconds (set a timer! Whatever you write will reveal with emotions/thoughts/issues are on your mind and may create stronger stories with similar themes)

Write 500 words of a story idea (or another number you’re comfortable with; if you don’t like what you write, you know you can move onto the next idea).

Flip a coin (assign one idea heads and the other tails—then flip a coin or use a coin flip generator).

Number your ideas and use a random number generator to pick one for you.

You Can’t Write Because: You’re Not Eating a Brain-Supporting Diet

I’m not here to tell anyone how to structure their diet. Everyone’s body is different and what you eat will change throughout your life. Your doctor and/or a licensed nutritionist are the best people for that job.

However, I can give you a few pointers that I definitely didn’t learn until way later than I would have liked:

Iron: if you don’t eat enough iron, you can feel super sleepy or stuck in brain fog. Iron comes from meat, but it also comes from these foods like spinach, watermelon, beans, whole wheat bread, and many more!

Vitamin D: vitamin D enhances brain function, especially for people with major depressive disorder. Drink that delicious Sunny D juice from your childhood or get it from foods like salmon, tuna fish, dairy fortified with vitamin D, and egg yolks.

Omega-3s: omega-3s are also known as fatty acids, which improve communication between brain cells by fortifying their membrane health. Fish is an excellent source of fatty acids, but you can also enjoy more omega-3s from foods like chia seeds, kidney beans, walnuts, and fortified foods.

You Can’t Write Because: Your Responsibilities Are Too Important Right Now

As you get older, you’ll have varying responsibilities that sometimes you have to take care of on your own. Maybe you’re taking on new roles at your job or you’ve just become a parent. You might move into a new home and have a long list of projects to finish before you settle in.

Sometimes responsibilities are acts of self-care during challenging times. Those are all valid. It’s okay to step back and take a break if your situation is going to drain your energy until your routine becomes normal or you get used to the responsibilities. You’re a writer even when you’re not actively writing. Nothing can take that skill and passion away from you!

You Can’t Write Because: You’re Uninterested In Writing

It’s totally normal to sometimes feel like you’re completely uninterested in writing. That feeling might last for months or even years. I went through a good 5-6 year period where I didn’t think I’d ever write again just because I didn’t care to.

That may indicate that you’re in a period of self-growth. You might be discovering new parts of yourself that result in new hobbies you’d rather spend your time doing. That’s okay too!

Possible Solutions

If that’s not the case for you, ask yourself—are you still reading? My writing always grinds to a halt when I’m not reading a good book. Ask a friend what was the last book they couldn’t put down. Find out which books are currently taking the internet by storm and find them at your local library.

You can even research “Books like ___” and insert the title of a book that’s incredibly special to you. I promise there are going to be articles looping it in with other titles that you might enjoy more than branching out into a totally new genre.

You Can’t Write Because: You’re Bored of Your Story

Life can get boring. People are sometimes boring. Stories get boring too.

It’s okay to step back from an idea if you groan at the thought of spending time in that world or with that character. You can always come back to see if the feeling has passed.

Possible Solutions

If your story is still dull when you come back to it, what can you add or change about it? You might need a plot twist to get things going in a new direction or another character to shake up existing character dynamics.

When all else fails and you still don’t care to continue writing what you’ve got, go ahead and scrap it. Consider what you’ve learned from the experience and move onto your next creative adventure.

You Can’t Write Because: Your Story Is Stuck

Maybe you’re writing a story and it reaches a point in the plot where you don’t know how to move your characters forward. They may have gotten themselves into a sticky situation you can’t think a way out of or the plot device that was working isn’t relevant anymore. Getting stuck is a form of writer’s block, but it’s not permanent.

Potential Solutions

Give your protagonist a different goal at the start of the story or a new goal after accomplishing their last one.

Add a new character (they’ll naturally make different choices than your protagonist and challenge them in various ways that are relevant to your themes).

Pull the rug out from under your protagonist (maybe they think they’re an incredible parent, but overhear their child complaining about them to a friend during a sleepover while walking past the living room).

Other Resources

12 Techniques for Getting Un-Stuck

17 Ideas to Continue Writing Your Novel When You Get Stuck

6 Methods to Unstick Your Story

You Can’t Write Because: Your Characters Aren’t Real Enough to You

Sometimes characters don’t feel real enough and it makes writing about them boring. Everyone encounters this eventually! Think about if your writer’s block is happening because you don’t enjoy spending time with your characters.

If that’s the problem, it’s time to make them more real. There are a few ways to do that! (If you try these solutions or others like them and your characters are still uninspiring, it might be time to walk away for a while/permanently.)

Potential Solutions

Give them something inspired by a real life person (add a personality trait that you love about your best friend, hate about a public figure, want in yourself, etc.).

Add a few flaws (perfect characters don’t feel real because no one is perfect)

Give them a face (this goes back to character research—save a stock photo that looks like your character or draw them. Post the picture on your wall where you write or in your phone for continual inspiration.)

Rework your plot (maybe you’re not starting them at the best possible point in their journey—start with an action scene, shift events around, or add a new twist that challenges their growth in some way.)

Complicate their relationships (maybe they have a fight with their best friend, clash with their teacher, form different opinions than someone they admire and learn from that experience, etc.)

Other Resources

9 Signs Your Main Character is Boring

5 Ways to Make Your Characters More Realistic

4 Bland Character Problems and How to Fix Them

Easy And Effective Ways To Make Your Characters More Memorable

You Can’t Write Because: You’ve Set High Expectations for Yourself

Your creativity will stop feeling as natural if your expectations of yourself or your writing are too high.

When it’s time to write, where do your thoughts go? You may need healthier expectations if your thoughts center around:

Getting every word or scene perfect

Knowing exactly where the plot goes in every chapter

Worrying that your story won’t be receptive to future readers

Wondering if you’re the right person to talk about a certain theme

Making your characters or story the first of its kind

It’s good to challenge yourself, but not with unreachable expectations. Give yourself room to try things, to possibly fail, to learn from your mistakes.

Every chance you have to write is another opportunity to hone your skills by learning from the experience.

You Can’t Write Because: You’re Burnt Out

Burnout happens all the time, creatively or otherwise. Creative minds can push themselves too hard, just like you can throw too much of your energy into work or school.

See if you’re experiencing any of these common symptoms of burnout:

Constant exhaustion, even after a “good” night’s rest

Headaches

Changes in appetite

Frequent illnesses

No motivation

A general negative outlook on life

Feeling trapped

Loud thoughts of self-doubt or failure

Not feeling satisfied with things that used to bring you joy

Feeling alone

Starting unhealthy coping mechanisms

Isolating yourself from people, even your loved ones

Potential Solutions

Talking with a therapist is a great way to handle burnout. Here are the resources for budget-friendly therapy again:

7 Cups of Tea (chat with volunteer listeners and professional counselors)

Get in-person or virtual therapy through Open Path ($30-60/session with a one-time membership fee; aims to close the financial gap that keeps people from accessing mental health professionals).

Check out other budget-friendly therapy options recommended by the medical community.

I have absolutely been the person who can’t afford therapy. I get it. You can also get some mental health help with these resources:

Self care apps—I use the (free) Finch app every day to redirect negative thought patterns!

Burnout recovery strategies recommended by health care professionals

Burnout resources recommended by the American Psychiatric Association (APA)

You Can’t Write Because: Your Writing Routine Isn’t Working Anymore

I used to write short stories literally every day while I was in grade school. Being stuck in classes for 8 hours a day was great for my creative writing because the sounds of the teacher talking, whiteboard markers writing, and students asking questions became background noise that tuned me into my stories. (I highly recommend paying attention to harder classes though 😂)

When I had fewer daily classes in college, my writing basically stopped. After I graduated, the environment that helped me write most easily completely disappeared.

It took a long time for me to learn why I had writer’s block—I wasn’t experimenting with my writing environment.

Potential Solutions

Try changing when you write to see if it’s a time issue. Get up earlier in the morning, write after eating lunch, or sit down after you’ve completed your responsibilities for the day.

Switch your scenery. You might write better at a coffee shop, the library, a park bench, your living room, your bed, or even your bathtub.

Change what you’re hearing. Try writing in complete silence. Use noise-blocking or canceling headphones and listen to lyricless music. You can also try background noises that often help people focus, like:

Background Noise—Coffee Shop

Background Noise—Tavern Fireplace

Background Noise—Rain Shower

Background Noise—Cozy Fireplace and Rain Shower

Background Noise—Forest Sounds

Background Noise—Blizzard Sounds

Background Noise—Interior Plane Cabin White Noise (The pleasant hum of a plane cabin is what I often write to—weird as it admittedly is!)

Background Noise—Christmas Music From Another Room

Background Noise—Lo-Fi

Ambient noise apps

Background noise apps

You Can’t Write Because: You Don’t Feel Motivated

Your story may not feel as captivating as you thought because you’re not as motivated with this one. Does it have a centralized theme? You can always search for your theme or pick one while figuring out what your story is supposed to convey to readers.

Some popular themes are:

Coming of age (discovering something about yourself/the world/both)

Survival

Corruption

Power

Courage

Love

Heroism

Death

Prejudice

You may find your motivation by writing about something very personal to you or something you want to tell other people. Write to the person in your life who needs to see something from your perspective or needs to learn from another person’s perspective.

Write about the thing you can’t stop talking about. Write about what you’re going through or want to figure out. Even if your story goes from a novel to a short story to flash fiction (anywhere from 4 words to 1,000 words), you’ll likely find it easier to write.

Other Resources

10 Most Popular Literary Theme Examples

Story Themes List: 100+ Ideas to Explore in Your Novel

100 Story Ideas Categorized by Theme

You Can’t Write Because: You’re Doubting Yourself

Self-doubt can pull the emergency brake on your brain. You may not think you’re good enough to write a story the moment you think of it. Self-doubt can come into play after you start writing or just before you finish a manuscript.

No matter when it hits you, it can cause another form of writer’s block. You’re the only person who can figure out where that doubt stems from and address the root of the problem, but everyone can practice daily positive affirmations to encourage themselves. With daily practice, you’ll chip away at your writer’s block.

While talking to a mirror or writing in a journal, tell yourself things like:

Writing is my hobby because it’s part of me.

I’m always a writer, no matter how often I actually write.

My voice and ideas deserve to exist.

Every word I write makes me better at writing.

No matter what comes out of my brain, stories are always my artwork.

Other Resources

Positive Affirmations for Writers

60 Affirmations for Writers, Authors, and Creatives

77 Positive Affirmations for Discouraged Writers

336 Affirmations For Writers Who Needs Support

60 Affirmations for Authors, Writers, and Poets

You Can’t Write Because: You’re Literally Out of Ideas

Ideas come and go. Sometimes your brain just can’t think of anything. There’s nothing wrong with your creative spirit—you may just have other things going on (like one or more of the above challenges).

When you really want to write something but can’t come up with anything off the top of your head, use a few generators to get things started.

Potential Solutions

Prompt Generators

Writing Prompt Generator by Genre

Prompt Generator

Random Prompt Generator

Story Generators

Plot Generator (Twists, First Lines, and More)

1 Million Plot Combinations

1000s of Plot Ideas Generator

Character Generators

Character Generator

List of Character Generators (Zombies, Fairies, Ghosts, Murder Mystery Victims, etc.)

Character Profile Generator

Plot Twist Generators

Plot Twist Idea Generator

Randomized Plot Twist Generator

Either/Or Plot Twist Generator

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I hope this helps someone feel more at peace with their writer’s block, even if you can’t think your way through it yet. Sit with the uncomfortable feeling and it will gradually lose its power over your creativity.

You’ll start writing again sooner than you think. 💛

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