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reminiscingtonight · 2 days

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baking kitchen mess (aitana bonmatí)

Recipe For Relaxing (Aitana Bonmatí x Reader)

A/N: Barca you're massive 💪

[WOSO Masterlist]

It’s been a long day.

First, your ever lovely girlfriend drank what was left of the coffee and left for an early training without even telling you.

Then your alarm clock seemingly forgot how to do its job, leaving you, still barely awake with no caffeine in sight, to scramble to make it to work on time.

The meeting you slipped into was already in motion, multiple eyes zeroing in on you as you tried to sneak in undetected. So with a healthy dose of tiredness and shame following you to your classroom, you really hoped that your rambunctious lot of third graders would magically surprise you with manners fit for royalty.

It really shouldn’t have irked you as much as it did when all twenty-five of them seemed to catch the wiggle-bug. Nobody was able to sit for more than a couple minutes without jumping or shouting what was on their minds.

By the time the clock signaled the end of the school day you were more than ready to rip out your hair. As politely as you could you wished all of your students goodbye, waving at their grinning faces as their parents herded them away.

Any hope you had at relaxing was dashed when you noticed the cars lining the street all the way up to your driveway.

Sighing, you drove a bit further away before parking on the curb, knowing better than to expect the girls to leave you a clear spot to park in your own driveway.

Mumbling under your breath you stepped over the shoes discarded carelessly by the door. Although you could hear laughter wafting from the living room, you took the side door to get a well needed beer from the fridge. As much as you loved Aitana and all twenty of her clubmates, you needed something to help rewind before even entertaining the idea of playing host.

The second your foot crosses the doorway leading into your kitchen however, you freeze. Your fingers tighten against the doorframe as you take in the sight in front of you.

Something was baking in the oven, but dirty bowls littered your counters, as did half-used ingredients. Flour covered almost every surface, even tracking throughout the ground.

Clearly the girls had never heard of leaving things as they found it.

You shut your eyes, jaw clenching so hard that you know your dentist will be giving you an earful when you see her next.

“Aitana Bonmatí Conca, what the hell did you do to my kitchen?!”

The chattering ceases instantly.

Angrily turning around, you stomp into the living room to give the girls a piece of your mind.

You’re met with wide guilty eyes, the footballers looking scolded before you even started.

“Hola bebé, you’re home early.” Aitana gives you a timid grin but you’re not amused.

Your nose flares angrily as you take another step forward. Everyone flinches when you shove a finger into Aitana’s chest. “Clean up my kitchen. Now.”

The air is silent as no one dares to move.

You quirk an eyebrow, tilting your head to make eye contact with the rest of the team. “Now! Pronto! Move your asses girls! I wanted it spotless yesterday!”

It’s like a hurricane storming when everyone scrambles up all at once. Quiet apologies are thrown your way as they pass by, everyone eager to escape your anger.

Aitana tries to sneak away with her teammates but your hand clamps down on her arm before she can even take a step.

“I love you?” she tries, deflating when she sees your unamused look.

“Aitana, babe, love of my life, I love you but you’re the bane of my existence. I’m exhausted and would love it if you could reign in the girls and not make messes for me to clean up.”

A look of determination crosses her face as Aitana nods quickly. “I will do a better job of cleaning up.”

“Thank you,” you sigh, relaxing a bit when Aitana timidly leans forward to give your forehead a soft kiss.

Your girlfriend takes it as a win when she wraps her arms around you and you instantly sink into her hold. The exhaustion from your day seemingly catches up to you as you sway dangerously, ready to go to bed despite it still being early.

Sighing, you rub at your eyes before gently pushing Aitana off of you. “Thank you for putting up with me. ‘M sorry for yelling.”

“It’s okay, I’m sure you’ve had a long day. Is there anything I could do for you?”

Humming, you give her a kiss when she leans forward for one.

“Could you go get me a beer and tell the rest of the girls that they don’t have to hide in the kitchen from me?”

“I--” Aitana winces. “I think we’re out.”

When Ingrid pokes her head out of the kitchen a couple minutes later, selected by the bunch as the least likely to get her head bitten off by you, she’s met with the sight of you sitting on the couch, feet thrown up on the table as you mindlessly flip through the TV.

You hold up a stack of papers towards the Norwegian.

“Got a new team bonding activity for you heathens.”

Aitana sighs when she catches sight of the rest of her teammates with each of their own personalized shopping lists at the store down the street.

“She got you guys too?”

#aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes #3wp

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calicoheartz · 3 days

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Can you write a Caitlin Clark where she always tapes her ring finger before the game and people find videos from way back in high school of her doing this tradition, after a Iowa game she gets interviewed about the tradition, and everyone pays attention even her teammates bc she never told them the reason behind the tradition which was bc she married her high school sweetheart and knew ever since they got together she was gonna marry her

The Promise of Always ; Caitlin Clark ﹒⟢

summary : you and Caitlin being highschool sweethearts ♡

wc; 346

warnings : none , just fluff :)

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : im trying my best to finish up the rest of the reqs , there will be a lot more new content by the end of this weekend ❤️ enjoy ◡̈

Caitlin stood at the edge of the basketball court, her fingers deftly wrapping tape around her ring finger.

The star guard was always known for her pre-game routines. One such ritual, unnoticed by many, was the habit of taping her ring finger before every game. A tradition she had carried since her highschool years, with the reason behind it only being known to her, hidden beneath the layers of tape and unspoken memories.

But as Caitlin’s fame grew, so did the curiosity about this particular ritual. People began to notice the taped finger and wondered about its significance. However the point guard kept her reasons to herself, never sharing them even with her closest teammates.

After a particularly thrilling game against a fierce rival, where her skills once again shone brightly, a reporter finally mustered up the courage to ask her about the mysterious tradition.

Caitlin, surprised by the question, remained as composed as ever, paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. She then glanced at her teammates briefly, realizing she never truly explained the reason behind this tradition of hers.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly began to speak. Sharing the story of the time where she met and fell in love with her highschool sweetheart, claiming their bond had been strong from the start, and as they grew older they knew they had to make a promise to eachother. A promise of eternal love and commitment.

“We always knew we were meant to be together,” she explained, “So I started taping my ring as a reminder of the promise we made to eachother long ago. Especially since I cant wear my wedding ring while playing” she giggled.

As the interview spread across social media, videos from Cait’s highschool games resurfaced, showing her taping her finger, a simple but gesture that is so deeply personal yet so powerfully symbolic.

Not long after, pictures of your magical wedding day and quiet engagement were posted to the guards personal social media, no longer feeling the need to keep your whirlwind of a romance a secret.

her post 🥹❤️

liked by : paigebueckers , katemartin03 , and 256,000 others

caitlinclark22 happy anniversary to the person who completes me. My other half. I love you more than words can describe , thank you for giving me the strength and courage to continue with my dreams. I’ve adored you since I was 16, and I will continue to adore you until the end. I love you y/n ! 💍

sorry this was so short!! i tried not to stray too far from the prompt so lmk if u want more details! tysm for reading 😊

#wlw #wcbb #wlw imagine #caitlin clark #wcbb x reader #caitlin clark x reader #headcannons #my hcs #iowa wbb #kate martin

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pierregazly · 15 hours

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are you warm enough? ꨄ oscar piastri

oscar piastri x reader

warnings: reader has the flu, sad!reader over being sick [945 words]

request: Could I ask for a 💗 with Oscar and "Are you warm enough?" prompt?

note: oscar is def the type to take care of a sick partner?? i dont make the rules but it's true! this is part of my 1.5k celebration! feel free to request away!!

It was inevitable it was going to hit you. It had struck through your entire workplace, through all your study groups. One by one, person by person, they were taken down. By a measly thing like the flu. You knew it was going to take you out, and you were going to hate every second of it.

Selfishly, you were hoping it would strike you the week Oscar was gone, not wanting to waste any of the short time that you did have with him by being confined to bed with a sickness that wouldn’t go away. Unluckily, just hours before his plane was scheduled to touchdown in Melbourne, you felt the tickle begin to climb in the back of your throat.

By the time Oscar’s bags were tossed through the front door of your apartment, you were curled up on the couch, a heated blanket over you while a half-empty cup of tea remained on the coffee table in front of you. Your head was pounding, your nose was stuffed, your stomach was aching. You couldn’t keep any food down, and it felt like the apartment had hit negative temperatures in the few hours between waking up with a scratchy throat, and Oscar coming through the door.

“Honey, I’m home,” he singsonged, walking around the corner and stopping dead in his tracks when he observed your state.

You had told him about all the people who were getting sick at work, at school, about how you had been diligent about making sure you were washing your hands and keeping away from them. How you had told him how you didn’t want to ruin the little time the two of you were finally going to be able to spend together, so you were being extra careful.

Oscar felt the sympathy wash over him as he observed you peak out from underneath the blanket, a look of sadness etched around your face.

“Osc… you shouldn’t come close to me. I don’t want to get you sick, too,” you said.

Ignoring your words, Oscar moved closer to the couch before sitting down beside your sock-covered feet. He gently maneuvered them so they were placed over your lap, rubbing soothing circles on your now-exposed ankle.

“I’ll suffer if I have to. Can’t make you take care of yourself when you look like you might freeze to death if I even move this blanket.”

Just from the blanket simply touching his leg, he could feel the heat emitting off of it, the number ‘6’ displayed on the power screen, indicating it was at the highest level the blanket could reach.

“Do you want me to make you another tea? Maybe go pick up some soup? I can give my mum a call, see if she can make any and drop it off? Does that sound good?”

Your only response was a nod of your head at every question he threw at you, you weren’t one to ask for help when you were sick, always able to simply take care of yourself. But the idea of getting off the couch, moving from the warmth of the blanket to go and make yourself a tea, or dig through the cupboards to find a can of soup… it just didn’t sound worth it, at all.

“I don’t want to bug your mum, if you pass me my phone I’ll just order some soup here. I can get you something too, real food. But you may not want to eat near me, I haven’t really been able to keep anything down either,” the sniffles after every few words had Oscar grimacing.

“Oh hush, mum always has leftover soup. Someone’s always sick around there, she’d be more than happy to drop it off. Let me go make you a cup of tea, and I’ll be right back.”

It didn’t take him long to tinker around the kitchen, throwing your favourite teabag into the mug and heating up the kettle; texting his mum in the process to inquire about any recent soups she may have made. Unsurprisingly, dad had been sick just days before, excess of his favourite soup in a Tupperware container in the freezer. Nicole had promised to get it thawed up and dropped off before sunset, a message of ‘get well soon, honey’ likely to be written in black ink on the lid.

Holding the warm cup of tea in front of your face, he gestured for you to sit up, a groan emitting from your body as you did so. Gently placing the cup into your hands, he sat down next to you, a small frown marring his face.

“Are you warm enough, baby? I can go pull down a few more blankets from the cupboards? Or turn the heating up?”

Shaking your head, you placed the mug down on the coffee table in front of you, before snuggling up into his side.

“Can you just hold me? You’re always so warm, and I just want to be snuggled up with you, right now,” you said.

The arm that was pressed between your two bodies moved out of the grasp, wrapping an arm tightly around your shoulders before pulling you in closer to his body.

“I’ll hold you whenever you want me to, even if you’re going to have to be the one to explain to the team why I have the flu next week.”

The only response you gave him was a shrug of your shoulders. You had already grappled with the fact you were probably going to get him sick, if you had to explain to the team why one of their prized driver’s was now sick… then so be it.

y'all... i didnt realize how popular oscar was until this celebration i have SO many requests for him lol. i hope everyone loves this, and as always, thank you for celebrating with me!!

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #f1 one shot #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 blurb #oscar piastri blurb #blurb #writing #fluff #pierregazly's 1.5k celebration

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natsukishinomiyaswife · 2 days

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⋆ 𝓡𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓵𝓮 𝓡𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓼: 𝓓𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬 𝓑𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓼 ⋆

Please note: This is a repost from my old blog, @sugarcookiesheep!

This was the first story I ever posted on my old blog, and my first series too! It was a series that featured most of the Twisted Wonderland cast as fathers, and what their child/children are like! (With the Reader being referred to as mom!)

I had only completed Riddle and Cater's parts (while posting sneak peaks of others), and I may come back to it someday! Until then, enjoy! ♡

⋆ As a father I believe that Riddle would be strict but fair. He would be patient with his children and control his temper but wouldn’t be afraid to put his foot down. He’d be the type of parent to implement chore wheels and good behavior charts and use parental controls on electronics to make sure his kids keep up with their studies. If they were doing particularly bad in a certain subject or struggled with something, Riddle would be more than happy to tutor them. He would make worksheets to help them practice and would take extra care helping them with homework or assignments, and make sure to go over exactly what they’re struggling with until they understood. If his child’s school had a PTA (Parent Teacher Association) he would be a part of it for sure.

⋆ Riddle’s eldest son would be a little troublemaker, not really following any of the rules Riddle makes. Instead, he would question Riddle’s rules and create his own, making a game out of it. Riddle once tried to follow his son’s rules (in the hopes that it would teach him some obedience), but his son just gave him a look of confusion before stating that the rules had changed, and that Riddle was now breaking the rules by following the old ones. Let’s just say this game is Riddle’s least favorite lol

⋆ While he’s good for his mom, he enjoys riling his father up and always acts innocent afterwards in the hopes of getting away with it (You never really seem to buy it though)

⋆ He has a big sweet tooth (just like his father), constantly trying to sneak cookies or tarts or cakes out of the kitchen. Half the time he doesn’t even try to sneak it, just grabs whatever he’s after and makes a run for it. You’ll be doing some cleaning, trying to tidy up the house, when suddenly here comes your toddler running with fistfuls of cookies while your husband chases after him. Even when you lock the desserts up he still somehow manages to get them, much to Riddle’s dismay.

⋆ In place of gold stars you decided to get scented stickers shaped like desserts for the good behavior chart, as that seemed to encourage your eldest son to behave more

⋆ Whenever he has a nightmare, he always goes to his dad. You’ve walked into the kitchen more than once in the early morning and found Riddle and your son fast asleep at the table, half empty mugs of milk and cookie crumbs around them. It’s a sight that always fills you with warmth.

⋆ When he gets to be a little bit older (around 5 or 6) You and Riddle cave and get him the pet hedgehog he’d been wanting (Riddle hoping it teaches him some responsibility) He is very responsible when it comes to his pet and takes excellent care of him. He considers the hedgehog to be his best friend (and partner in crime), taking him wherever he goes. (The hedgehog’s name is Beef Hedgington, and he’s named after Beef Wellington)

⋆ The boys are around 5-6 years apart age wise, so your eldest son got his pet hedgehog Beef before his little brother was born.

⋆ There are plenty of times where you or Riddle would enter the baby’s room and find that your eldest left his pet in his brother’s crib. When you ask him, he’d simply say that Beef is there to watch over him and protect him if need be. It makes for some cute photos in the family album!

⋆ Riddle’s younger son is quite the contrast to his brother, a shy boy that tries his best to follow the rules and doesn’t want to stand out. He’s content watching quietly in the background as his older brother gets up to his latest shenanigans, though on occasion he can be convinced to join him.

⋆ He prefers to play alone or with his brother, usually keeping to himself while your eldest is running around with the other kids at the park. He gets a bit anxious in social situations, especially when he’s unfamiliar with the person. But if another kid did approach him and wanted to play with him he would hesitate for a second before nodding his head yes, gesturing towards the toys he was playing with. It always makes you and Riddle so happy whenever he makes a new friend at school, his body language giving away how excited he is.

⋆ Much like your husband and eldest son (and you), your younger son also has a big sweet tooth. Unlike your eldest though, he doesn’t try to sneak or take any desserts. Instead he would follow you around as you’re baking, or gaze longingly at whatever sweet he wanted. You would pick up on this and give him one as a treat, or let him lick the spoon while you’re baking (after making him promise not to tell his brother)

⋆ Riddle started a tradition where when it’s someone’s birthday in the family, you would all go to Trey’s bakery and get them their own special cake/dessert. The kid’s always get so excited whenever they get to go see their “Uncle Trey”, especially when it’s one of their birthdays. They always have fun choosing a different cake flavor or dessert every year, watching Trey make and decorate it before serving it to them. You have a special photo album specifically for these occasions, making sure to always include Trey and his family in the pictures.

⋆ One of your favorites in the album is a photo from Riddle’s birthday, his face and shirt a mess of frosting as your two boys had both wanted to feed their father his cake. Trey is in the background laughing while your off to the side trying to wipe some frosting off Riddle’s face, your two boys smiling towards the camera with frosting smudged around their mouths. It’s a photo you love so much you end up framing it and hanging it near the front door so that it’s the last thing Riddle sees when he leaves to go to work. A beautiful reminder of his wonderful and loving family ♡

Originally posted: November 25th, 2023

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

#♡.sheep writes #♡.twst #♡.riddle rosehearts #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x reader

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oneawkwardwriter · 2 days

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So High School

pairing: James Potter x fem!reader warnings/tags: none except some teeth rotting fluff, possibly inaccurate Quidditch team (I didn't know everyone's positions), allusions to suggestive content?, no use of Y/n summary: just James being an absolutely amazing boyfriend totally not self-insert what- a/n: and thus begins the saga of me taking Taylor Swift songs and turning them into stories about fictional characters. Don't even act like you're surprised, you shouldn't be by now <3 Also, I've been wanting to write for James but couldn't get it right, so a little thank you to Miss Taylor for making this possible wc: 0.8k

"And another goal made by Gryffindor chaser James Potter!" Remus shouts into the microphone while he reacts to the latest Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. "That is three in a row for Gryffindor. Sorry, Ravenclaw, it seems like you'll have no chance of winning today, better forfeit already-"

He is cut off by Professor McGonagall taking the mic out of his hands, "Don't get forget to stay objective, Mr. Lupin," She says, just loud enough for the microphone to pick it up, but the crowd is too busy cheering to hear it.

James does a victory lap on his broom, flying close to the crowd. When he comes close to your section, he sends a quick wink in your direction. You lightly chuckle and roll your eyes when a couple of first years nearly faint from being so close to their unrequited hallway crush.

Not that you can entirely blame them, seeing as you yourself still can't shake the giddy feeling of butterflies whenever James wraps his arms around you. Sure, you'd been dating for about half a year, but somehow he still managed to make your heart skip a beat.

Not long after, the match is over when Marlene manages to catch the Snitch. Louds cheers erupt once more from the spectators on the stands, and soon enough, they're running onto the field to greet the victors.

You're pulled along in the flood of people, practically carried towards the field until the crowd parts for the Gryffindor team. You smile as you lock eyes with James, who practically storms right at you before trapping you in a bear hug, slightly lifting you off the crowd.

"That was amazing!" You say as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. "You did so great out there."

"Only because my lucky charm was in the stands," James replies, burying his face in your neck as he grins, "Couldn't have done it without you cheering me on." You chuckle, knowing arguing against him would be pointless even though you know he's a great player whether you're there or not.

The celebrations continued in the Gryffindor common room, the firewhiskey flowing while people cheered, laughed and talked to each other. Throughout the entire night, James held you practically glued to his hip: always an arm around your shoulders or waist, kissing the top of your head or your cheek.

"-And then Mary fired that Bludger at the Ravenclaw Seeker, and I ducked down for the Quaffle, and then-" James rants about the game, completely caught up in his story.

"Remember to breathe, James. We don't need you passing out," Remus says, making everyone laugh and James shake his head.

"Oh please, as if I could breathe when this one here takes my breath away the entire time," James quips, "Not that I mind, though. I'd gladly pass out if it meant you sitting next to me in the hospital wing."

"James!" You exclaim.

"What? It's true," He responds shamelessly as he shrugs, making the others shake their heads and chuckle.

As if you weren't already glued to his side, James pulls you even closer to him, making you laugh when his breath tickles the nape of your neck.

"Oh come on, can you two act even more like high school sweethearts? We're getting cavities from looking at you " Sirius groans, to which you only raise an eyebrow and reply with, "That's rich coming from the guy who had his tongue down his boyfriend's throat less than a minute ago."

"I don't see the relevance of you pointing that out, but alright," Sirius replies with mock-ignorance as he sits close to Remus, who nuzzles his face in Sirius's nape and softly smiles.

As the night progressed, the firewhiskey started to take over your systems, making you a bit more bold and unfiltered.

"You know, sometimes I still don't understand how we got together," You say, slightly slurring your words as you look at James.

"Oh god, here we go again," Sirius sighed, turning to Remus, "James is going to confess his undying love for her again."

"Hey, I can't help it that this perfect angel walked into my life, you have Remus to blame for that," James shrugged as he kisses your cheek for the millionth time that night.

You and Remus had been friends ever since first year, finding companionship in your shared love for literature and classic history. James swears he fell for you when you were rambling about the works of some ancient philosopher, claiming that you could light up an entire city with the energy you put into it.

"Well, I don't know about perfect angel, but thank you anyway," You say, resting your head on James's shoulder as you whisper in his ear. "I love you, James."

"I love you too, love."

Taglist: @unofficialxmarvelfreak

(to join the taglist, simply leave a comment or message me!)

#writeblr #divider by saradika #x reader fics #oneawkwardwriter fics #fanfic writing #so high school #james potter x reader #james poter imagine #james potter fic #james potter x fem!reader #just adorable fluff #it's teeth-rotting fluff #sry not sry #taylor swift #wolfstar #I do not support jkr

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allwaswell16 · 18 hours

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All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in April 2024. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup [ @1dmonthlyficroundup ] which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #61 | ko-fi | fic recs

- Louis/Harry -

🌼 When the Lights Go Out by thelarenttrap / @antidotetogo

(E, 79k, F1 au) In its near eighty years of existence, Formula 1 has never had an out gay driver. In 2017, Harry Styles signs a contract with Scuderia AlphaTauri alongside his childhood friend and competitor, Louis Tomlinson. The next decade of their careers is some of the most tumultuous press--on and off the track--Formula 1 has ever seen.

🌼 Colorful Hearts by Larrysmomfics / @larrysmomfics

(M, 20k, humor) In a world where orgasmic emissions change color depending on the person’s mood, Louis Tomlinson’s semen has only ever been blue. At the recommendation of his doctor he attends a support group for people with similar conditions.

🌼 In a swirl of flashing lights by @lunaticcat009

(M, 15k, friends to lovers) Harry taps on Louis' window with a sad smile and they sneak into a closed carnival. A starry night of them running around the abandoned premises with their fingers intertwined ensues.

🌼 Fuck You For Ruining New York City For Me by galactic_larry / @galacticlarry

(T, 11k, exes) Louis broke up with him in their New York apartment, so Harry left the city for good. Except now he’s back, visiting with his new boyfriend.

🌼 defying stars by localopa / @voulezloux

(T, 9k, high school) the marching band au only one person (and that was me) asked for.

🌼 Half a World Away by @silverstuff50

(E, 9k, omegaverse) Bothy: A bothy is a basic shelter, usually left unlocked and available for anyone to use free of charge. Bothies are found in remote mountainous areas of Scotland, Northern England, Ulster and Wales.

🌼 Where All Roads Lead by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings

(NR, 7k, neighbors) Harry's Christmas takes an unexpected turn when he discovers a misplaced holiday card in his letterbox. He never thought that braving the snow to return the card to its sender would be so worth his while.

🌼 Does it Ever Drive You Crazy? (Just How Fast the Night Changes) by xx_soup_xx

(G, 7k, strangers to lovers) Baker Harry Styles takes it upon himself to get his mysterious grumpy customer, Louis Tomlinson, to like Christmas by taking him on a disastrous first date.

🌼 Girl Crush by Hopeless_blue

(T, 7k, strangers to lovers) He used to be so close to fulfilling his dreams when he participated in X-Factor. But that was four years ago, and now, on a rainy day, he wanders the streets looking for a pub where he could sing sometimes. Charming bartender Louis is ready to give him a shot...

🌼 Why Don’t We Start Writing The Story Of Us by red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa

(T, 6k, omegaverse) Alpha Louis and Omega Harry get off on the wrong foot, Louis has the worst timing, and Harry believes in second chances. Three times Louis asks Harry on a date and the one time Harry accepts

🌼 I Might Say Yes by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 6k, established relationship) the one where Harry buys a wedding dress on a whim. And his very doting boyfriend, Louis, is more than happy to indulge him

🌼 now i'm tracin' all my steps to you by @alwaysxlarrie

(T, 5k, 5 times fic) Of all the things Harry was prepared for this summer, Louis Tomlinson and his wonderful, wonderful scent isn't one of them. It probably shouldn't be as shocking as it is that it makes Harry want to nest.

🌼 Crimson Clover by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt

(T, 5k, soulmates) Harry and Louis are soulmates, but one is already promised to another. When their plan to flee is discovered and they are separated, Harry falls gravely ill.

🌼 I’ll tell you something (I hope you’ll understand) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(E, 2k, girl direction) Louis insists that Harry stay off her phone and in the safety of Louis' room rather than risk moping in her own texting her ex-boyfriend. When Harry agrees on one condition, Louis' safe night in could become something else entirely.

🌼 All The Way Home I'll Be Warm by @justanothershadeofblue

(T, 2k, friends to lovers) Harry & Louis jokingly send out holiday cards together as friends, and now everyone is congratulating them for finally getting together. A 5+1 fic, for Christmas.

🌼 beech tree in autumn by @juliusschmidt

(E, 1k, summer romance) Louis walks forward. Harry walks back. And back. And back. Off the two track, through the brush, until his heel bangs against the trunk of a tree.

🌼 hey stupid, i love you by @enchantedlandcoffee

(T, 1k, omegaverse) The one where self-proclaimed Valentine's Day hater, Louis, surprises his boyfriend on their first Valentine's together.

🌼 skinny dip (in water under the bridge) by hazzahtomlinson / @itsnotreal

(G, 880 words, exes) It’s a Wednesday and nostalgia might just get the best of Louis.

- Rare Pairs -

🌼 Finally, You and I (Collide) by @lululawrence

(NR, 14k, Zayn/Louis) the five times Louis was accidentally wooed by cookies and the one time he was purposefully wooed by brownies.

🌼 I Saw Several Angels in the Self Help Section by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(G, 3k, ot5) Zayn and Louis are soulmates. They're also missing some soulmates. For extra flavour, it's Christmas.

#28th appreciation #ficrec #1dficvillage #hlcreators #hljournal #hltracks #trackinghome #trackinghappily #tracksintheam #ficsfor4am #cristalreads

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skiesofrosie · 3 days

Text

sometimes, it's hard to be good

pairing: joe liebgott x reader

genre: fluff, conversations about life

a/n: horrendously self-indulgent, but i hope you enjoy.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“I don’t think I’m a very good person,” you blurt.

“The fuck?” Joe says, confused.

It weighs on your shoulders like a stack of bricks, a truth that sends your mind into a frenzy. Joe noticed it a few days earlier, the way you started to cook, and wash the dishes, despite the half and half system you both have. The letters you sent to check-in on old acquaintances, despite them having never bothered with you. Your choice of books, a sudden affinity for self-help that you shove into your most hidden shelves.

“Are you having a fuckin’ identity crisis or somethin’?” Joe stopped you, just as you were about to take care of both his and your laundry for the third time that week. “Or do I pick up the chores too slowly, ‘cause I can do better.”

“No! No!” You said, a little flustered, then laughed to cover it up. “I’m just doin’ it all ‘cause I care about you.”

He kissed your forehead then, a little unsure. Truth be told, the overcompensation stems from the lack of doing enough–or at least, feeling like it. Joe is your other half, and he picks up well on his half too. If you cook, he will clean. If you do laundry once, he’ll take care of it next (even if he tends to mix the whites and the colors). But the insecurity seeps into your head like poison, the misbelief now running through your blood, and it makes you shoulder more than you actually can.

You slowed down too, because you realized the need to feel like a good person is inherently selfish. To really be good comes from the choices you make, and sometimes, the greater good requires you to be the villain.

Right now though, that’s all mixed up in your head, which means you feel like a piece of shit.

“Where’d ya get that idea?” He asks, now setting Dick Tracy down to pay you full attention. “Is someone tellin’ ya that shit? ‘Cause I’ll kill a–”

“It’s me,” you interject, shaking your head as you slap your book to your chest. “That's what I think.”

Curiosity washes over, as he furrows his eyebrows together and stares at you as if you’re dumb. The both of you are sitting on your balcony, the sun shining streaks of light across his face, and you wonder if you’re worthy of a man as strong and beautiful as him.

The summer today is glorious, a little sweat trickling down your temples, but better than the way your nose freezes in the winter. Joe and you have made this a routine every Sunday, afternoons spent outside in each other’s company, to catch up on some reading. Your little apartment faces the San Francisco life, and even if the stench of running gas is discomforting, it’s still home. For Joe, it’s homeostasis; a reminder that the war is now behind him, and the domesticity you both have always dreamed of, is now real.

Today though, in the pits of your overthinking, you’re hardly reading the words as you scan the pages.

“Hey,” he gently probes. “What’s goin’ on up there?”

His fingers are creeping towards yours fiddling with each other on your lap.

“I,” you start, but find it difficult to reason. When his hand slips into yours, squeezing it in encouragement, you continue, but not without a sigh. “I found a photo from when we were in high school, and…I realized how many of them I don’t talk to anymore. Friends that have drifted apart, friends that I’ve cut off, or they’ve cut me off. It got me thinking, really thinking, about all the decisions I’ve made, all the people I’ve loved and lost, all the mistakes I’ve made and it all crashed down on me like I hit a brick wall head-on with your cab.”

You stop mid-thought, paying a good look at him listening intently to you, eyes a twinge downcast.

“It made me think that maybe I’m not doing enough, or I’m doing nothing right. That I’ve been selfish, and I have this urge to uproot my entire life and start afresh,” you finish.

He looks into the distance, fingers still entwined with yours as he collates the rush of thoughts. It makes his heart ache to know that you feel this way, because to him, the world owes you for your kindness. But he admires the way you know when it’s time to abandon your good and patience, because it fails to be returned.

“Joe?” He hears you call.

He speaks. “If that’s your logic, than all of us are fuckin’ shitheads.”

You gawk at his response, sputtering, “what do you mean?”

“Sweetheart,” he says, then turns to you unflinchingly. “I spent three years shooting Krauts just ‘cause I could. I did what I was told, convinced myself that I’d be doing the world a favor. Those were actual fuckin’ choices I made, and now I have to live with ‘em in my head.”

“But,” you say, “those people were shooting at you Joe.”

“Not all of ‘em,” he says, shaking his head. “Not all of ‘em.”

A silence falls over you both. It never occurred to you how difficult it is to actually be good–to make the right decision all the time. Even the sun, with its daylight to the skies, streaming into people’s homes to wake them up for another day, blinds you if you look at it for too long. It burns when you get too close, blazes ‘til there’s a drought.

We are all made up of imperfections, after all.

“We fuck up,” Joe adds, quietly. “Hell, we fuck up with each other too, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile, “you caused all my whites to go pink last week.”

“Hey,” he lets go of your hand to smack you. “I bought ya your favorite cookies at Betty’s to make up for it!”

You can’t help the laugh that breaks loose of you, despite the heaviness in your chest. In an infinite list, one of the reasons you love him is his ability to pull you out of your own mind, and make you laugh ‘til tears pool in your eyes.

“Seriously though, we ain’t bad people just ‘cause we fuck up. We’re shitheads if we don’t try to do better,” he says, his hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in circles. He throws his other hand up, the comic falling onto the ground. “I try everyday to be a better fuckin’ person, but I slip up. You will too. But at least ya try, you know?”

You know he’s right. Like the chocolate cookies he bought for you to make good on the clothes he ruined; like the moments you apologize to each other in petty fights, and figure out a way to make things better–even if you falter, all there is to it, is taking the next step. So even if you still worry, you can at least do that. And what better than to have Joe Liebgott by your side, a man who will never speak anything less than the truth.

“Baby steps, right?” You nod.

He nods, standing up, walking to you and pulling you to your feet. He slips his arms around your waist, as you cross yours behind his neck, pecking you once, twice, and you’re about to make out with him on your balcony–

‘Til a blaring honk from the road makes you jump apart.

“Fuck!” He yells at the road, and you wince, but with amusement. “I’m tryna get some, okay!”

This time you swat at his shoulder, as he guffaws, starts leaving kisses on your neck. You melt into him.

Baby steps, definitely.

“Oh and sweetheart,” he breathes against your skin, and you hum. “You’re the best fuckin’ person I know on this planet.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

@she-wolf09231982 a little snippet of Joe :D

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #joe liebgott x reader #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott

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dianneking · 15 hours

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The Affair - Chapter 2 (Larissa/Reader)

Hello everyone, here's the second installment to this little fic. Writing has been slow-going but the kind comments I got on chapter 1 both here and on AO3 were a great motivation to put in the work when I had the time and brainpower to do so. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Larissa Weems/You Rating: Mature Tags: Alcohol consumption, Morally Ambiguous Character, Swearing, Boss/Employee Relationship, Seduction, Second-person POV, Teacher Reader, Power Imbalance.

AO3 link in title below

< Previous Chapter - Next Chapter (tbc)

Chapter 2 - Private Booth

“I must admit this is highly unprofessional of me, but I cannot help but find you incredibly alluring, darling.” She murmured in your ear and you heard a breathy laugh exiting your mouth, feeling as if it came from miles away.

You weren’t sure how the evening had evolved to this point, if you had to be perfectly honest. You were sure you both had been the picture of professionality at the start of your dinner together, sitting primly at the table in the private booth, ordering a light meal and talking about lesson plans and your previous work experiences.

You had been nervous, but except for the unusual setting, it hadn’t been that different from countless other meetings you’d had with principals. And, you mused as you took a bite of your salad, to be honest you appreciated having this conversation over food for once instead than in a stuffy office.

Was it some sort of cultural difference that outcasts had? Or was it a peculiarity of the woman sitting in front of you? She seemed like someone who was more than able to disregard rules if she wanted to.

You found yourself liking that, despite your usual aversion for rule breaking.

Then…then Larissa (she had asked you to call her Larissa at some point, you were sure of that) Larissa had offered to share a bottle of wine “to toast together at a fruitful collaboration” and you had had half a mind to turn the offer down, but found yourself agreeing. Why the hell not? It had been ages since you drank some good wine, and your principal looked like the kind of woman who’d only choose good alcohol.

“You have great taste,” you had commented, sipping on your first glass, and it had been at that moment that you had felt the energy in the booth starting to shift. She had dabbed her mouth on her napkin, and let her eyes roam over your figure for a handful of seconds more than it was polite to do before replying, “Oh of course. I very rarely lose my time when it’s not worth it.” Her lips had curved up in a smirk and you had had to take another sip of that wine to give time to your suddenly galloping heart to slow down a bit. Surely she was still talking about the wine, wasn’t she?

But then the conversation had moved on and you thought you had imagined the flirty undertone. Surely she wouldn’t be the type to do something like that, would she? Even if you hadn’t actively sought out gossip, surely you would have heard if Nevermore’s principal was a serial seducer, right?

Larissa had been an extremely pleasant conversationalist, and often you found yourself invested in the latest anecdote from one of her travels, or her opinion on one subject or another. You laughed at her recounting of the antics of her students, and were amazed at the lavish traditions of Nevermore that she insisted on educating you on.

You could have listened to her talk all night long, looking at how her face danced with emotions, how the passion she had for her job and her loyalty to her school shone in her voice as well as her eyes. And the way she ran her tongue against her teeth every now and then had you completely mesmerized. You were hanging on her lips and had given up feeling self conscious about it. You wanted to know more about this mysterious lady. You wanted to know all that she’d be willing to tell you.

And you were acutely aware that you still hadn’t discovered what exactly had happened that had left her for several months on sick leave. The students talked of an attack of undead to the school but you were sure those were exaggerations, and that there was a less…fanciful explanation. Teenagers are known for making a big deal out of small mundanities. Even taking that into account, it seemed like mysteries surrounded this woman, wrapping around her like the subtle yet lingering scent of her perfume.

“You smell amazing.” You had blurted out, and almost clapped a hand over your own mouth, horrified at your sudden boldness. That was not something to say to your boss who apparently still had the power to fire you if she somehow found you lacking!

But she hadn’t bristled, nor had she seemed in any way angry or offended. She had simply chuckled lightly, and busied herself with swirling wine inside her glass with slow, hypnotic movements.

“Thank you, dear. It’s Ambre Nuit, by Dior, obviously.”

“...Obviously.” You had parroted back, even though you knew nothing about perfumes and even less about Dior. Your eyes were glued to her hand, still cradling the bowl of the wine glass. You had not noticed until now just how long and tapered and beautiful her fingers were. How effortlessly they curled on the glass shoulder to loosely swirl its contents. A part of you wondered how those hands would feel on your body.

“You know? You could smell it even better if you came to sit beside me…there’s plenty of space on this bench…” her voice had trailed off, and it might have been the wine coursing in your system, but this time you felt like you could almost taste the promises in her voice.

And that’s how you had found yourself squeezed besides her on the bench, your thigh pressed against hers, the fabric of her dress and of your trousers the only thing separating your skin from making contact with hers. You were acutely aware of how dimmed the lights had been in the private booth, and how the waiters had stopped coming around after they had delivered your desserts.

A perfect setup, suggested the romantic part of your brain, a part that was often overlooked and laid dormant in the day to day routine.

A perfect trap, countered the more cynical part, who couldn't help but wonder how many times had the beautiful woman beside you put on this show for her latest prey.

It just all seemed so effortless for her. She mixed her flirting (it had to be flirting by now, right?) with more easygoing topics, she kept topping your glass off with that lovely wine, as well as drinking just as much herself. One part red flag, one part irresistible temptation.

And it was at that point that she had leaned over, and you had felt her breath hot on your ear, and you were sure you had drank way too much wine because just that little puff of air made your skin erupt in goosebumps and your head spin.

“I must admit this is highly unprofessional of me, but I cannot help but find you incredibly alluring, darling.”

“I must be dreaming” you said before your common sense could stop you, the tingling of your giggle still in your throat.

But not even in your wildest dreams could you have imagined how her hand felt as it fell on your thigh, light as a feather, but making your skin burn white hot even through the fabric..

“Well I suppose I’ll have to pinch you then.”

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

Want more? Here's my fanfiction masterlist

Taglist: @barbarasstar @peggycarter3 @aemilia19

#dianneking writes #dianneking fanfiction #dragonmist fanfiction #larissa weems fanfiction #gwendoline christie fanfiction #larissa weems #gwendoline christie #larissa weems x you #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems fanfic #larissa weems x y/n #netflix wednesday

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sunflowerharrington · 2 days

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stwg prompt (27/4/23) - buzzed hair/shaved head

wc: 1076

🩵

Wayne hasn’t been feeling too confident in his looks, lately. Usually he doesn’t care, but when he looks at Eddie, he wishes he still had hair like that. Every so often in Hawkins a new person gets the “hair” nickname. Currently it’s Steve Harrington, Eddie’s friend — or more than a friend, Wayne’s not too sure — and it reminded him of when that used to happen in Tennessee too. When Wayne was in highschool, he was “the hair.”

He’s surprised he hasn’t died yet from the fumes of hairspray finally catching up to him, but the smoking will do that someday. All the products he used to use, all the times at school when the girls would come to him for hair techniques… All of that is gone now, and so is his hair.

A slight sob catches in his throat as he runs his fingers over what’s left of his hair. What’s left of his hair… Nothing much. It’s gray and white and barely there now. But he can’t let go of his highschool days. How the hell is he supposed to go back out into the dating scene without his long, luscious locs to help him?

He hasn’t dated since then, hasn’t had the courage or the confidence. Even when he still had his hair, he couldn’t bring himself to ask a girl out.

Some people can take up addictions to help with loss and grief, but if he were to tell anyone he’s a smoker because it helps him deal with the stress of losing his hair and not being “attractive” anymore, they’d laugh at him, make a joke out of it. There’s only so many jeers and snide comments he can take before he drives back home and cries himself to sleep.

He’s been doing that a lot lately, hoping his pillow muffles it enough so Eddie can’t hear. But Eddie can’t exactly hear anything outside of his room when he’s blasting that goddamn metal. Not that it’s bad or anything, Wayne likes it too, sometimes, but only when it’s not at an eardrum-shattering volume.

Today is the worst of it, the worst he’s felt in a long ass time about his looks. But there’s no point in buying a wig or trying to grow it out again because anyone who knows him already knows what he looks like without it. So there’s no point, and he won’t bother.

But maybe having hair might help him feel better about himself? No, it takes too long to grow out and he sure as hell knows nothing’s gonna grow on the top of his head anymore, maybe the sides, but that’ll look ridiculous.

So he doesn’t bother.

It’s only in the evening when he’s starting to feel a little better and has stopped crying. But not for long… because as he walks to the bathroom, the sound of a hair trimmer buzzes to life and someone’s laughing quietly to themselves in the bathroom.

Eddie.

It’s Eddie.

Half of his— what the fuck?

“What in the goddamn hell are you doing, son?” Wayne exclaims, watching as another few strands of Eddie’s hair fall into the sink. “Wha— Eddie! Put that damn thing down!”

Eddie does, in fact, not put that damn thing down and continues shaving. Strand after strand, his smile grows wider, and he looks at Wayne’s reflection in the mirror.

“Hair grows back,” Eddie says with a half smile. “I did it for you.”

“Why?” Wayne can't stop the tears from falling now, they gather in his lower eyelashes and drop down onto his cheeks.

“Because I want you to know that you’ve still got it. With or without hair. You’re a handsome man, and if anyone disagrees they’re obviously blind. You don’t need hair to be handsome and I don’t either.”

“You’re crazy,” Wayne says, laughing a little.

“On the contrary, I’m a genius,” Eddie says with another smile. “And I’m also doing this to help my friend, Jane. A bad man shaved her head and she hasn’t been feeling confident, says she looks ugly without hair. But she doesn’t. You look handsome without hair, she looks beautiful without hair, and Jim Hopper looks hotter than ever without hair.”

“Boy, don’t you dare tell me you’ve still got a thing for Jim.”

Eddie stays silent. Wayne frowns.

“What?” Eddie says, holding his hands up. “You gotta admit he’s hot.”

Wayne tuts. “He’s old enough to be your old man!”

“So?” Eddie smirks. “I’m legal, he’s legal…”

“He’s also married!”

Eddie gasps. “Jim and Joyce got married?! Why wasn’t I invited?!”

“I don’t think they’d want you jumping up on the tables at the reception, son,” Wayne replies, turning off the machine for him.

“I don’t— Oh… You’ve got a point.”

“I’ve got a point and no hair.”

“Me too!”

“No, I was right, you were wrong, son. I have the point.”

Eddie shrugs. “Alright, fine. You win. But he’s still ho—”

“No, not finishing this conversation,” Wayne interrupts, backing away out the door. “Be with someone your own age, like Harrington’s kid. I see the way you look at him and he looks at you—”

“And I’m not having that conversation,” Eddie replies.

Wayne snickers, starting to feel like himself again.

“No. Wayne, no. I don’t… I don’t like him like that! We’re just friends.”

“Mhm mhm.”

“Wayne!” Eddie whines. “Stop!”

“Son,” Wayne says, placing a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Just try.”

“Okay fine, I’ll only do it if you ask Claudia on a date.”

“You want Dustin to be your brother, huh?” Wayne’s smiling again, so is Eddie.

“If I ever have an argument with Steve over who Dustin’s favorite is I wanna be able to say it’s obviously me ‘cause I’m his brother,” Eddie says. “But no, that’s not the only reason. You wanna find love, right? At least try. The worst she can say is no.”

“I’ve got better things to be doing than—”

“Remember the deal? You said—”

“Alright, fine!” Wayne throws his hands up. And he wonders where Eddie gets his dramatics from… “I’ll ask her on a date.”

Eddie fist pumps the air. “I love you!” He barrels Wayne into a hug.

Wayne smiles again, and finally, he feels like maybe he can still be handsome without his hair. He’s gonna remember this day for the rest of his life, maybe even add a part about it into his wedding speech if things with Claudia go well.

#stranger things #eddie munson #wayne munson #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #a litta bitta steddie and wayne x claudia

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 2 days

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IT'S NEVER OVER - PROLOGUE (sept. 2005)

summary: if anyone asked sid, he wouldn't say that he liked pittsburgh more after meeting nat. no, that would be absurd.

warnings: short and sweet! (none)

a/n: hi, hello! am i posting this without having finished it? yes. i don't know how long it's going to be but i'm slowly chipping away at it and i'm pretty excited about it. it might even be my favourite series thing i've done so far, and weirdly my first one? i've had the entire thing outlined for months but i've been too busy to even think about posting it, so...here you go! i can't promise posts for this will be regular because the chapters are so long, but i'll try my best to keep you posted! hope you enjoy (a series mastrlist will be out soon too so you can get the gist of where i'm at in the entire process) xo

sneak peak | pinterest board

(It started with music, but Nat didn’t know that.)

It was a total accident, a random encounter that Sidney couldn’t possibly have predicted – one that, without exaggerating, changed his life to an extent. On a whim, he’d decided to go into that coffee shop he’d walked past everyday for the past three weeks, and it was also on a whim he actually made it to the counter to order an uncharacteristic coffee – he was newly eighteen, being pulled in all sorts of sports-diet directions, the confinement of which kind of irked him, so to him, buying that coffee was a subtle rebellion.

It was also a complete accident that he’d wandered off to the right after taking his coffee from the counter, instead of left, or forwards, or even backwards.

Sidney wasn’t one to believe in fate or destiny: he believed those terms were too magical – they alluded to some other worldly forces coming into play, and he liked to stick to facts. Coincidences. Accidents. Nevertheless, he did find it almost inexplicable, the way that his life hurtled into a completely different route after a mere forty minutes inside a coffee shop that he’d just spontaneously decided to make a trip of. He couldn’t quite get his head around it all.

To him, it was a coincidence that he’d walked past her table. A coincidence that she happened to be blaring the only song he’d been able to listen to for the last four days. He’d barely made it three steps past her before he froze.

She was wearing those over-the-ear headphones, the ones with orange sponges from the 80s, plugged into the iPod that had come out a few years back. He recognised it because everyone that had one in his high school before he left never shut up about it. Sidney admittedly did own one at the time, but he never really felt the need to show it off – it was much easier than lugging around a cassette or CD player with songs burnt in.

The song still had him halting in his tracks and turning around, his body much further ahead than his brain because he had to steady his mug of coffee; his sharp actions had the liquid almost sloshing over the edge, but he managed to catch it just in time.

He wouldn’t have done either of those things: stop and turn, if it had been any other song he’d heard. He was just so taken aback by it – the exact, precise song.

The girl at the table didn’t pay him a single dime of attention when he froze, despite the fact that his hip was practically nudging her table. She wasn’t even looking in his direction, her eyes gazing out of the window on her right, skipping over empty faces as people walked past. It was clear she was supposed to be doing work of some sorts: there were textbooks, novels, and flashcards scattered across the entire table, a pencil case half emptied with pens strewn all over. She had a pen clutched in the fist she was resting her chin on, not caring for the study cards at all – entirely enamoured by the view.

Sidney followed her eyes. There wasn’t much to look at, just a street, and her chair was directly facing the side of a retail store, clothes and mannequins displayed in the window.

In hindsight, Sidney didn’t really know what compelled him to do what he did next.

He couldn’t tell if she was bored and just looking out, not paying attention to the music flowing into her ears, or if she was just so absorbed in what she was hearing that she couldn’t physically bring herself to think about her work – that she’d tuned out the outside world entirely.

What caught his attention the most was the crease between her brows. It drew him to look straight at her; an alluring combination of chestnut hair and pale eyes – though not too pale that they made him uneasy. She was also probably the only person in the establishment that was around his age.

She had impeccable music taste, if he did say so himself.

Yet, he couldn’t shake the inkling that this girl was wholly feeling the brilliance and soul-crushing heartache of Jeff Buckley’s genius – and he found himself hoping she was.

That was why he cleared his throat and took a small step to the other side of the table. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, noting that the cafe was pretty busy, so he knew he could at least try to get away with what he was about to do.

He made sure to tilt his head up, because the hat covering his face would be nothing short of slightly suspicious in a public setting, and it wasn’t until he purposefully knocked into the chair that she flicked her eyes to look at him.

He held his breath, a moment when all they did was look at each other, until the crease in her brows disappeared and she reached to pause her music on her iPod, slowly sliding her earphones off so they rested around her neck.

“Hi.”

His assumptions had been correct. She was around his age – her voice was deeper than he’d originally anticipated – and when he found himself slightly closer than before, he was able to make out that she was studying for her SATs.

It was September.

“Hi.” He replied, forcing a smile that he hoped would convey the apology he felt for intruding on her personal time and in her personal space. Her clutter was all over the table, and he knew that if she was hopefully as kind to strangers as he hoped she’d to be, that it would be somewhat of a hassle to shove some of it away, “I’m really sorry, but there aren’t any other tables free. Would I be able to–”

“Oh, sure.” She interrupted, immediately going to reach to sweep a space clear for him over the other side of the table. Sidney watched with a mildly amused gaze; she didn’t seem to care for the way her flashcards seemed to mix themselves up, or the way her textbooks snapped shut and she lost her page.

She flashed him a welcoming, slightly embarrassed smile as she piled the books on top of each other, and before Sidney knew it, he was sitting in the chair opposite, accidentally knocking their knees together in the process, and sipping from his coffee mug. He fought to maintain the thankful smile on his face, despite the utterly bitter taste of the coffee that seemed to fester on his tongue.

No wonder he’d never tried coffee before, it tasted like dirt.

The girl broke a small chunk of a muffin off, a smile breaking out on her face as she fought a small laugh.

Sidney blushed, “I’m not a big coffee-fan.” He reasoned, shrugging.

“I can tell.” She pressed her lips together momentarily, looking down at the plate before turning her attention back to him. Sidney felt stunned at the colour of her eyes. He’d never seen grey eyes before, but hers seemed to balance more on the green side – only when the sun struck the side of her face, they turned a watery, clear blue. There was also a tinge of brown thrown in there.

What was that called? Heterochromia?

He felt his mouth dry, and before he could stop himself, he was taking another sip of his coffee, this time managing to control the urge to wince, “Thanks for letting me sit here.”

She shrugged, gathering the flashcards and lining them up, “It’s no problem. Sorry for the mess.”

He let his eyes wander over the books once more, the green ‘SATs’ letters jumping out at him, “You got an important date?”

The girl swallowed, not entirely understanding what he meant. That crease formed between her brows again, and she opened her mouth to question him, but Sidney beat her to it, a finger pointing at her stack of books.

She sighed, “Not entirely, they’re at the end of the school year, but one of my teachers gave us an assignment to get some revision resources done early.”

Sidney couldn’t say he understood her stress – it was something displayed across the planes of her face; evident when she looked rather tiredly at the stack of books, and hesitated at the flashcards, before throwing them to the side. She folded her arms across the table, then switched so that her hands were interlocked in front of her.

She looked as though she didn’t quite know what to do with herself, and Sidney couldn’t tell if it was because of the presence of a stranger, or if she was already feeling some sort of academic guilt for throwing her attention away from her studies for a couple of minutes.

He saw her jaw clench, and at that observation, the thought that maybe he was paying a little bit too much attention to her crossed his mind, so he turned his focus to the cup of coffee. He was beginning to feel its effects; his knee was shaking softly under the table and he could feel an influx of energy spark at his fingertips. Or maybe it wasn’t the coffee at all.

He hadn’t thought about hockey for five minutes.

He saw her turn her face towards him out of the corner of his eye, and he looked up, “What about you? Are you in school, or…?” She trailed off, her eyes skimming over the logo that had flashed itself from the safe and unzipped confines of his hoodie.

He felt his heart quicken at having been caught, worried that perhaps she’d shout out who he was – if she knew – across the entire cafe. He remained optimistic; she didn’t seem the type.

He cleared his throat, “Not anymore.” For some reason he hesitated. He could play off the logo as merchandise – he could be someone other than Sidney Crosby, the New Rookie of the Pens – or he could be honest. When he looked back at her, there was a challenge in her eyes, and Sidney knew then that she already knew who he was. “I just got drafted to the Pens for my first NHL season.”

She sighed, “Can I tell you something?”

Sidney furrowed his brows, his mouth tilting down in a smile. He was new to the whole ‘local celebrity’ deal, but this by far, is probably one of the least impressed reactions he’d ever had. She clearly knew he wasn’t in school, but had still taken the kind courtesy to ask him the question, despite the futility of it.

He nodded.

“I only know one Pens player.” Then she pointed to something out of the window, “That banner has been staring at me every week for the past three months.”

Sidney huffed a laugh, thinking she was joking, but followed her finger anyway. He was immediately faced with a street corner, tens of people walking past each other – he could even make out their voices if he concentrated hard enough, and it took a while to figure out what exactly she was pointing at, until his eyes settled on a billboard at least a block down.

He’d been told that for press reasons, the Pens had come up with the idea of a way of promoting him as a player, and a ‘person of Pittsburgh’, by plastering some action shots of him – still staged – around the city. He’d neglected to look up lately, fearing that if he did, he’d be faced with some images of himself, but he hadn’t escaped that entirely.

The billboard was small, and he wasn’t the only player on there, either, but he saw it nonetheless.

When he spun back around to look at her once more, the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “There’s two other players, not just me.”

She shrugged, “I was talking about Sergei Gonchar.”

Sidney felt the blush colour from his chest to his cheeks as he slowly put his hands over his face, consumed by humiliation. He felt himself smile into his hands when he heard the girl huff a snicker. He’d had quite a few people as of late kissing up to his ego, and apart from his teammates, she was the first one to really deliver a considerable blow – and he was thankful for that; that at least someone still had the ability to look past who he was and tease him like he was a normal person. He was aware of the irony that lay there.

He gathered himself, unabashedly removing his hands and displaying the creeping blush for her to see, and sticking his hand between them, “Sidney Crosby, rookie center for the Pittsburgh Penguins.”

She rolled her eyes, not commenting on the state of his cheeks, her smile fading slightly but still remaining, “I was joking, I know who you are.” She took his hand in hers, gripping it tightly, “Nat Brooks. Student.”

Sidney swallowed, his blush remaining for other reasons, and pulled his hand away, flexing it under the table, “Is Nat short for anything?”

“Natalia.”

“‘S very pretty.” He mumbled, and she smiled sweetly.

“Sidney’s very pretty, too. It suits you.”

Something clenched in his chest.

#sidney crosby x oc #sidney crosby fic #it's never over prologue #nhl fic #nhl series #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby oneshot #sidney crosby x reader

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jimraisedmeup · 3 days

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TICK // 1.1 - gimme danger

Rating: mature (language, sexual content)

Word Count: 640

☾

There's nothing in my dreams Just some ugly memories Kiss me like the ocean breeze

Now, if you will be my lover I will shiver and sing But if you can't be my master I will do anything

☾

September 1983 - junior year

"Who does your tattoos, Edward Munson?"

The blunt voice behind him took him off guard, appearing out of nowhere. It didn't even sound like a question. More like a matter-of-fact demand.

Your voice was thick and dripping like honey. Deeper than the voices of other girls in your school. Eddie was so used to the high-pitched, bubblegum-popping, giggling tones of the artificial female species that wandered the halls of Hawkins High.

The cafeteria around him was bustling with all the usual assholes, but suddenly all he could focus on was the figure of you standing behind him.

Finally turning around to lay eyes on the culprit, Eddie was shocked to see you.

He knew you, of course. Or at least knew of you.

In the back of his mind, he tried to remember if he had ever even spoken to you before. But he would have remembered your unique voice. Eddie's whole life revolved around sounds, melodies, vibrations.

You were a year younger than him, being a junior while he was a senior. He recalled seeing you in the crowded hallways. Plain hair. A face that said leave me the fuck alone. Weren’t you a part of the French Club or some shit?

His mind was racing, but still responded to you without any sign of hesitation. There were too many witnesses around for him to let his guard down. Bako and Donny, seated at the table with him, openly stared in awe.

Eddie found his vocal cords. "I do some of them. My uncle has a friend that does some of them."

Your disarming gaze bore into him, squinting for a moment. Eddie took a second to glance down at your clothes. Blue jeans. Gray fitted t-shirt. You were plain. No other word for it.

"How much for one?"

"What?"

"A tattoo. How much do you charge for a tattoo."

Again, you didn’t really ask it as a question. It was less of an innocent query and more of a personal space invasion, a solicitation. Your face gave away not a single emotion or even a hint of a personality.

Eddie scratched his head, acting like he was thinking deeply. He glanced at Donny, who looked at him like well, say something, idiot!

"Well, sunshine, that depends."

That's all he could think of. Why were you suddenly speaking to him? You had successfully ignored each other for the last however many years.

Your shoulders dropped in annoyance, but you still held onto the lunch tray in your hands.

"Okay, depends on what?"

A wicked grin painted his lips. At the motion of your shoulders falling, he could easily tell that you definitely weren’t wearing a bra. Your tits were smaller than average, basically nonexistent, but Eddie had x-ray vision at the short distance between you and him.

"Hmm… size, the design… location." Leaning over in the plastic chair, he purposely fixed his eyes on your ample behind.

You scoffed at him, "Cool, you're a real Don Juan. Let's get to the point, yeah? I want a quarter sized half moon on my hip. Just the outline, nothing fancy. Need more info?"

Taking his time to answer, mainly because he suddenly found himself entertained by your impatience, he shrugged.

"Nah. I'll do it for fifteen bucks."

"Deal. How soon can you do it?"

You were all business and no play. Eddie was enticed by your no-bullshit confidence.

A shocking flash of pink passed behind you: a popular girl chatting excitedly with a football player. Neon pink windbreaker, bleach blonde hair in perfect curls. Eddie observed her.

And then he looked back at you. So ordinary yet so different.

"How does this weekend sound?"

You held your hand out in front of him to shake. Your skin was smooth and warm on his callouses.

"Don't fuck this up, Munson. I'll see you Friday."

☾

There's nothing left alive But a pair of glassy eyes Raise my feelings one more time

☾

(song lyrics credit: "Gimme Danger" by The Stooges)

TAGLIST for this series if you would like to be notified when I post new chapters!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddiemunson #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #eddie munson slow burn #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x buckley!reader

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quimichi · 2 days

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TW: obsessive behavior, talk about self harm, death, gore, blood, corpses, choking, talk about you being dead, bleeding, bro there's so much - MDNI

SUMMARY: A twisted boy with a twisted mind and a twisted love just for you ♡

CHARACTERS: Yandere x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 841

𓉸ྀི Never EVER was Blake expecting to fall in love. At first sight too. He saw you and was instantly captured. My condolences, because with him in your life...it'll be turned upside down

𓉸ྀི You're his newest, recent hyperfixation, or better, obsession. Recent? Well, since he ever saw and read this short story in the internet, about death, killing, blood and guts, he was forever obsessed with it. Especially the graphic pictures that we're added for the "realism'. You see, one click on a link and a wrong turn can lead you down a dark alley filled with the darkest mysteries hold by internet. Hidden from those who would never dare step that far into an alley like this. Bit inviting and interesting to those curious enough to take a look...and forever be captivated.

𓉸ྀི with 12 year's old, exactly that happened. This weird 'dare' and a link went around school and of course 12 year olds are gonna jump on it like hungry wolves. His friend send him the link, he was dared to open it and take a look, but was to scared. So he send Blake the link also, so they can both take a look. Shared fear is only half the fear, right?

𓉸ྀི While his friend was throwinh up beside his bed, he kept scrolling. And scrolling...and scrolling. Weird...this doesn't affect him, at least not like his friend. Or how he thought it would. Everyone kept saying its gross, creepy and...twisted. Its odd that he, likes it.

𓉸ྀི His friend claimed he suddenly felt sick, so his mother picked him up. None of them wanted to raise suspicion of course...But the whole night long, Blake kept looking at the pictures over and over again, he read the story multiple times. He probably still knows it all word for word till this day. But what really captured his interest was that woman, how she looked in her own blood bath. Her guts hanging out, everywhere but inside her. Is this real? No it can't be right? No one would ever...

𓉸ྀི when he saw you, he saw that woman. You both look so similar. Maybe the eye color is a bit off, yours are a tiny bit darker but thats ok, you look just like her! Damn, even the hair!...he can't help but wonder if you would...no that's an unhealthy thought

𓉸ྀི he's 18 now, and for 5 years he was in the dark web looking for stories, pictures and videos like this to feed his constant hunger and need for more blood and gore. But he still knows, murder is wrong. But knowing is something else than doing. They both can go hand in hand, the only thing that's holding them both away from each other is the wall called self control.

𓉸ྀི He does have this wall, it just has multiple holes in it. Blake was no stranger to act on his impulsive thoughts. He cuts his arms sometimes when he wants to feel the pain or see the blood. He even tried the 'save way of cutting your wrist', the thrill of almost dying did send him over the edge....The research did help of course. He even tried choking himself, but that does not really do much for him unfortunately, there's nothing hot to it besides the bruises he left on his neck.

𓉸ྀི But right now the wall he trained to stand against the army of his running thoughts is about to crumble by just looking at you. You'd look so great in red, a deep dark red surrounding you...oozing out of y-no-! This is wrong-! He knows you're so so much more than a body, than a corpse. You have personality...damn you really look like you have a great personality.

𓉸ྀི...w-wait-you looked his way-! WHY ARE YOU SMILING AT HIM-! Was he looking at you this entire time?? Ugh, hes such a creep-! Yes, he knows he's one but he doesn't have to act like one to make it obvious- He's so weird, he doesn't deserve you, he would NEVER deserve you. The only thing that deserves him would be the maggots and the mould, eating his decomposed cadaver.

𓉸ྀི If it's not him, than it's definitely your smile that killed him right there and now, on spot. He's disgusting why are you looking like him. Why do you show interest. Why is he smiling back. And why does he really feel the need to hold you in his arms, and kiss you. A kiss that would probably be the beginning of cannibalism. Drag his mouth and theeth across your chest to taste your beating heart...if he thinks like this then living can be beautiful, and so are living things. I mean...you are most definitely beautiful. And you're alive.

𓉸ྀི But you'd be just as pretty dead, rotting and overcome with mould, having flys around you while your body drys out and sinks....but yeah you're maybe even a tiny bit more beautiful alive. (Much more but he can't say it just yet)

TAGLIST: @lucienbarkbark @hehothrowawayfae

#yandere x you #yandere male #male yandere #yandere x reader #yandere #oc x reader #oc #Blake x reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #yandere x female reader

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