#confession time: I have bought more of these books recently

[causeimanartist]

draw more of what you want, I had literally forgotten about my sister the vampire, you hit me in the nostalgia

Join me in the nostalgia!

#my sister the vampire #Olivia Abbott #Ivy Vega #sienna mercer #my art #causeimanartist #no one I know irl has read these books so the fact anyone on the internet remembers them makes me happy #confession time: I have bought more of these books recently #I had my original 1-5 but I've been tracking down the scholastic versions of the others #specifically the scholastic versions because it's the cover art style I remember and love #I loved the covers so much and I still do #the books are sitting proudly on my bookshelf on top of twilight which is sitting less proudly #we all know the superior vampire books and it's this #a to z #a to z character challenge #a to z challenge #(two for the price of one!)

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒓𝒚

summary - andy barber is our best friend’s dad, and he finds our diary while we’re staying with him. what he finds inside of it, will either have a good outcome or a very bad one. 

warning - fluff, smut, oral, rough sex, some fingering (maybe?), age gap, reader is slightly innocent, kitten.

as stated in all of my stories, the gifs and header aren’t mine.

divider by @firefly-graphics

Andy walked into his son’s room, picked up his son’s dirty clothes and then headed over to their guest room to collect Y/N’s as she was staying over for the summer. He offered as her parents wanted to go on holiday without her, as he was picking up a dress she folded neatly on a chair amongst other dirty clothing. A book falls out, confused. He places the clothes down and picks up the book. Looking closely, he notices it’s a diary. Curious, he opens it, shocked at what he finds inside.

01/05/2022

Dear Diary,

I need to confess. I’m madly in love with an older man, and I know it’s wrong… Especially as he’s my best friend's father, but he makes me feel things that no one else has. He’s so handsome and sexy and so much more. But he will never notice me. He only sees me as Jacob’s friend.

01/06/2022

Dear Diary,

I saw him again today, Jacob and I were in the kitchen preparing some snacks before watching a movie, and he walked in, dressed in that lovely blue suit he fits so well. They recently bought a dog, and she’s gorgeous. She ran to him excited (I don’t blame her, I would’ve too, given the chance). He told her to sit and called her a good girl. I could feel my knickers soak at those words. I’d do anything to hear him call me his good girl.

01/07/2022

Dear Diary,

Ugh, I just need someone to buy me tiny little skirts and tell me how cute I am. I’m so tired of being lonely, and I just want to be babied and have pretty little things bought for me. I saw this cute pink dress today but sadly didn’t have the money to get it.

01/08/2022

Dear Diary,

Can I tell you something?

I like making eye contact with older men, so they question their morals. I was at the diner with Jacob and his dad today, and as we were sitting in a booth after we ordered our meals, we were all chatting. I can’t remember what it was as I noticed a nice-looking older man sitting at the counter staring at me. So I stared back, it sent chills down my spine, and surprisingly I felt my knickers damp again and tingles. But that moment was cut short as Jacob’s dad waved to me to get my attention, and when I looked at him, I swear he seemed quite mad, but I don’t know?.

01/09/2022

Dear Diary,

He’s 41, but he’s so hot. I don’t know how it’s possible, but his dad is dreamy. Jacob and I were sitting in the lounge, watching more movies and chatting, when his dad walked in shirtless. Drops of water were dripping down his body, I may have drooled, and I don’t know if anyone noticed. I hope not. 

01/10/2022

Dear Diary,

I want him to call me his baby and buy me peach lipgloss so I can cover his lips with kisses. And I want him to put flowers in my hair as we're out on a picnic date. But I don’t think it will happen, he’s my best friend’s dad, and I’m just a dumb little girl with a crush on an older man.

Andy stands there, not knowing how to react to what he read, he knows it was wrong to open it and to continue reading, but he couldn’t help himself. Andy didn’t expect what was inside. He always liked you, thought you were the cutest thing he’d ever seen. Every time you were over, Andy would try and avoid you at any chance because you made him so hard. Especially the time Andy called his dog a good girl. He saw the way you clenched your thighs together.

At that moment, he wanted to lift your dress and devour your cute little pussy. While calling you his good girl, but his son was there. He saw you drool that day but thought against saying anything, looking at the diary one last time. He places it back whilst placing the dress back over it. He decides that he’ll ask if you need it washed.

Grabbing the rest of the dirty laundry, he heads out. Walking past the glass back doors, he hears splashing. Andy looks over and wishes he didn’t, his cock begins to strain against his pants, and he swears that he feels dizzy from the sight in front of him.

Y/N was standing by the pool, dripping wet, in a tiny cute pink bikini with a little bow on the front, covered in small white flowers. Andy stares, feeling a heart attack coming on at the image. ‘Fuck’, he thinks. Andy quickly rushes off to the laundry room. Dropping the clothes in the machine, he rips open his pants and starts to fist his angry cock. Leaning against the machine, Andy groans. Andy threw his head back, eyes closed as he imagined you on your knees in front of him and his cock thrusting into your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck.” Groans fall from his mouth as he feels his orgasm come closer. He doesn’t hear the soft footsteps or the voice calling out Mr Barber. No, he doesn’t hear your soft voice but hears a soft whimper that causes his eyes to shoot open and to look towards the source. Eyes widening when they connect with yours, he notices you're rubbing your thighs together, eyes wide and mouth hung open.

He notices your eyes drift towards his cock, and Andy can hear a louder whimper. Andy watches as you grip the door. As if you're going to collapse, Andy looks down and sees that a pair of your cute little pink knickers with a bow is wrapped tightly around his cock. Andy swears he didn’t notice or intend for that to happen, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he stares at you as he lets groans slip out, pumping his cock harder and faster, fist wrapped tightly around it.

“Come here, kitten.” Whimpering, you slowly make your way over to him, knees buckling as you are overwhelmed with how horny you feel. “Get on your knees, baby”, you shakily get on your knees, using his thighs as support. You look up at him, he nearly blows his load with how innocent you look, but he holds back.

“Open” You listen so well. Andy thinks he might have died and gone to heaven, tapping the tip of his cock onto your tongue. He tells you to suck it like a lollipop, listening. Andy watches you wrap your lips tightly around the tip and suck hard. He jerks forward at the force, feeling his soul being sucked out of him.

“Jesus, fuck” Looking up at him, worried you did something wrong. “You're doing so well, kitten” He watches your face beam. You keep sucking. Sometimes your tongue will swirl around his tip, grabbing the back of your head. He lets out a moan before spurts of his hot cum fill your mouth.

You continue to lick and suck until he’s empty. Swallowing, you wait on your knees. From your position, you look up at him. His eyes are closed as he tries to catch his breath. Opening them, he sees you. He smiles, swiping a finger across your bottom lip and swears his cock twitches when you wrap your lips around his thumb and suck his cum off.

“Did you swallow, baby?” He asks softly. Nodding, you open wide to show him you did indeed swallow. Groaning, he replies with the words you always wanted to hear him call you.

“Good Girl.” 

A soft moan leaves your lips as those words leave him. You can feel yourself pulse, and your bikini bottoms become soaked and not from the pool water. 

Noticing this, he smiles. Telling you to stand up, you do as you are told. Standing on shaky legs, you wait for his command. He pulls you closer to him and strokes your cheek.

“Is this okay?” Nodding, he shakes his head. “Words, kitten or this won’t go any further.”

Taking a deep breath, “yes”, gripping the back of my neck, he tilts my head back and kisses me. A moan escapes me. He tastes so good. He roughly bends me over the machine in a split second and pulls my bottoms to the side. Exposing my glistening core, Andy feels his cock harden. His mouth waters at the sight. It’s much better than he imagined.

Running a finger through my lips, I moan. “Please- Oh, god”, Andy chuckles. He locates my little button and starts to rub it. “Please what, kitten” Jerking slightly from the amount of pleasure. “It’s too much. Please get rid of the tingles, please, Mr Barber!!” I whimper loudly. 

“It’s okay, baby. I’ll take care of you.” He whispers into my ear, continuing to rub my little clit before getting onto his knees. “Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve been dreaming of doing this, kitten.” He leans forward and starts to devour me, licking, sucking. Fucking my little hole with his tongue before switching to sucking my clit, Andy brings his fingers up and slowly enters one. Groaning at the tight fit, he feels her sucking his finger in, the walls pulsing around it.

He continues with his work, bringing me to my release fast. Gasps leave my lips as I lean over more, gripping onto whatever I can as I feel a strong feeling wash over me. Then I’m screaming, cumming around him before he finishes. He gives one final lick before standing back up. He leans over, back against mine, as he strokes my hair. “Are you okay? Was that too much, kitten?” Shaking my head, no. I beg for him to continue, “are you sure? We can have a break.”

“I’m sure, please. I’m begging you.” I whine, feeling so needy for him. Andy leans back and grabs his cock, rubbing the tip against me before lining up at my entrance. He pushes in, and he grips my hips tight. Andy is trying to stop himself from thrusting, the tightness of my walls is getting to him, and he can feel everything. My walls are pulsing around his cock, strangling it, wanting to milk it dry.

I grip the machine so hard that my fingers turn white. The stretch of Andy’s cock causes me to pulse wildly around him. It’s hard to breathe, and I’m struggling to get air into me. His cock is piercing my tiny pussy open. But the pleasure mixed with the pain that comes from it is so beautiful that I never want to go back. I can feel myself becoming addicted.

“Please move, please,” I beg, trying to thrust myself back, but his hold on my hips prevents me from doing so. “Are you sure?” He desperately wants to pound into me until I can no longer stand, but he needs to make sure, he can feel how tight I am around him even though his cock is soaked in my juices.

“Yes, so sure. Please, Mr Barber, I need you.” As soon as those words come out of my mouth, he starts to thrust. The air leaves me, but I don’t care. It feels so good. His cock moves in and out, stretching me. His tip hits the spot I never knew existed. Making me scream, feeling myself cream around him. He looks down and see’s a white ring around the base of his cock. Groaning, he thrusts harder. One hand wraps my hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulls me against his chest, moving deeper into me. 

“You like that, kitten? Do you like when your best friend’s dad completely ruins you from the inside? Huh? You’re such a whore for me, my good girl. I can feel you pulsing around me, baby. Fuck, it makes me so fucking hard. This pussy is mine now. No one else gets it. No one gets to see it or touch it. Only me! Isn’t that right, baby?” Nodding my head, I convulse around him, his words making me feel so good that I cry out. “Yes! Yes! Only yours! No one else’s! Please let me cum! Please!” He lets out a breathy chuckle. “Good girl, oh fuck. You do like it when I call you that.” He moans, feeling his balls tighten. “I want you to cum for me, kitten. It’s okay, let go.” He commands.

My back arches as I let go, and I tighten around him even more. I am pulsing around him as I squirt against him. He groans loudly, letting go. Cumming deep inside of me, both of us let out breaths before he slowly pulls out.

Looking down, he sees my cute little pussy ruined. His seed is slowly leaking out. Reaching down, he pushes it back in, listening to the little moan that escapes me.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?” Andy asks as he lifts me up, setting me atop the machine before going over to the cupboard, grabbing a fresh cloth and running it under water before coming back over and cleaning me up. 

“I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me, Mr Barber. To be honest, I’ve always liked you….” I confess shyly. He smiles, “I know, kitten, and I feel the same.” Chucking at my expression, “really?” I ask, bewildered. I never thought he’d ever want me.

“Yes, I don’t just sleep with anyone, kitten.” He leans forward and kisses me, pulling back. We smile at each other, “oh crap!” He lets out randomly, looking around. “What?”

“Where’s Jacob?” He asks, slightly freaking out. Letting out a giggle, “he went out on a date and said it would be okay to spend time with you, so I came down to help with the laundry.” Andy lets out a breath, “I should’ve been more concerned before, but being around you makes me lose all common sense.” 

After that day, Andy and I have become close. We mostly hide it, though, because we don’t know how Jacob will feel about it, and I don’t want to lose him as a friend, but I’m in love with his father, so it’s a sticky situation.

Today is my birthday! Andy and Jacob woke me up to a home-cooked breakfast and presents. I was so excited, as you can tell I said I was. Because now I’m confused with the present open in front of me.

It’s the dress and lipgloss I wanted, but I never told anyone, and I kept that all in my diary because I never wanted to burden anyone with those things. But here it is, sitting in front of me, which was wrapped in cute pink wrapping paper.

Looking up at both men in the room, I can see Jacob smiling, and Andy looks kind of afraid that I wouldn’t like it. “So? Do you like them? Dad said you’ve mentioned these!” Looking at Andy and then back at Jacob, I put on a smile. “Yeah! I love them! I have wanted them for a while!” I let out, knowing I never mentioned them but still so confused.

After opening the presents, I place them in the guest room. Turning around, I jump. Hand on my heart, “you scared me.” Andy stands there nervously. “I’m sorry about scaring you and the uh- presents….” He clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck.

“So… you read my diary?” He nods shyly, stuttering out. “I-I didn’t mean to at first, but then I kind of got stuck into it….” He refuses to look at me. “When?” I stare at him, “Uh… the day we… ya know….” He finally looks at me.

“Oh”, I nod before walking over to him, “Well, thank you.” I smile and kiss him on the lips. He kisses back. And in both of our minds, we’re happy we got our happy ending.

thank you for reading! 

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #christopher robert evans #imyourbratzdollwork #chris evans fluff #chris evans one shot #chris evans x you #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans x y/n #andy barber #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fic #andy barber imagine #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #bfd!andy barber #bfd!andy barber x reader #andy barber angst #andy barber fanfic #chris evans angst #chris evans blurb #chris evans character

[cauliflowertree]

laurie laurence—all i want to say is i love you.

laurie laurence x fem!march!reader

summary: romance novel confessions.

word count: 1.1k

fanfic no. 043.

laurie laurence always had a pleasant time with the march sisters—he considered them family, if he could so bold as to say so. but as he grew older, the other sisters began to notice a slight show of favouritism for the third sister, y/n. soft but lively in temperament, she seemed his perfect match. and they didn’t mind so much, for laurie was still very attentive to them, and they observed they would make a very fine couple should they choose to be.

he hadn’t thought he was quite so obvious with his silent affections, but he could not deny his countenance greatly altered when with her, though often he did not realise unless it was teasingly pointed out by someone else who had observed this alteration. let them tease, he thought, it mattered not to him.

he had quietly pined after the favourited sister for many months now, elongated, he felt, by the winter season which seemed to last many weeks longer than usual, which often forced him back home in the early evenings where his lack of company was greatly felt by y/n and the other march sisters.

but when summer finally absorbed spring’s showers, he was greeted with the adoring sight of y/n reading novels in her garden once more. from his window he could see her quite clearly, often getting distracted from his studies which could infuriate poor mr. brooke. laurie was never the most attentive nor obedient student, which was only exacerbated by this consuming infatuation he could not shake, nor did he want to.

as much as his love for y/n tormented him, it was the reason he found himself so eager to greet the day in the early mornings, the cause many of his smiles and happy moments. but as much as this was true, she was also the cause of many sleepless nights, reprimands from his tutor and grandfather for not paying attention and confusion in his life.

despite this uncertainly imposed upon him, as soon as his classes had ended for the day, he headed to the march household—he could wait no longer to tell y/n the truth about how he felt; the uncertainty must come to an end.

meanwhile, oblivious to the plan laurie was hatching, you basked in the soft sunlight while reading a romance novel you’d bought from town with all the money you’d saved up recently. it was a delightful read, though you were nearing the end already, having only started reading it a day or so ago.

“you pierce my soul. i am half agony, half hope,” you read aloud, feeling your heart pound in your chest, wondering what those words would sound like coming from laurie’s lips.

theodore laurence had a hold of your heart from the day you’d met, and thus far, he had not relinquished his grip for a moment. you were a little too shy to admit your fondness for the boy, but would accept in a heartbeat if he were to confess he felt the same way first. it was a difficult predicament, for the dread came in knowing there was a chance you would never know if you did not ask.

“‘would you, in short, have renewed the engagement then?’ — ‘would i!’ was all her answer; but the accent was decisive enough,’” you continued to read, feeling the butterflies in your stomach fluttering as you the confession upon the pages unravelled.

“‘good god!’ he cried. ‘you would!’”

so enraptured in your novel, you hadn’t noticed laurie creeping up on you from your garden gate, smiling gently as he watched and listened to you read another novel from your extensive collection.

“what are you reading this time?” asked laurie when he was close enough.

“oh! laurie, you startled me,” you laughed, clutching your chest.

“i apologise, fair maiden,” he bowed in jest. “is it shakespeare’s sonnets again?” he asked, nodding to the book in your hand.

“not this time, the author is a woman from england,” you replied, elated with the knowledge it was a woman’s words you were devouring page by page.

“is it a novel?”

“yes, a romance novel,” you sighed happily. “it is fast becoming one of my favourites. oh, laurie, it’s utterly splendid!”

laurie sat beside you in the grass, fiddling with the green blades beside his feet. he listened to you talk fondly of this new novel you had fallen in love with, talking endlessly of some anne elliot and a captain wentworth.

“what is it?” you asked suddenly, feeling very self conscious of the intense stare from laurie’s eyes and his boundless silence.

“i’m in love with you,” he whispered without hesitation through a smile, almost in disbelief that the words had left his lips so boldly.

“what?” you scoffed, for such a declaration was not easily comprehended in the circumstances in which he had revealed it to you.

“all the while i have known you, i have been in love with you,” replied laurie, feeding off the courage he had unwittingly found. “i do not care that you talk too much, nor that you stay up too late reading by the dwindling candle light. i love that your hair is unkempt and that as soon as someone pays you a compliment you become bashful. i could not think of someone better to love. truly, i could love no one else but you.”

it was as if you were in a romance novel of your own, and the protagonist’s love interest was finally admitting his feelings in the last chapter of the book, letting its readers breathe a sigh of relief alongside their protagonist who had been waiting just as long to hear the words finally spoken.

“have i upset you?” asked laurie when you did not respond.

“no!” you cried. “you have only surprised me,” you laughed. “do you truly mean it, laurie!?”

“of course i mean it, dear y/n,” came his gentle response, which elicited a bright grin stretching across your lips as you tossed your novel to the ground, throwing yourself against laurie.

“i have been in love with you all this time too,” you revealed, hovering over his lips and revelling in the sensation of his arms snaking around your waist and over your back.

laurie could not speak, only match your joyous smile as he let the words you had spoken sink into his heart, down to the very bottom where he endeavoured to hold them forever.

he wetted his lips, lifting his chin up cautiously, to which you matched his actions before pressing your lips to his delicately—a chaste first kiss that neither of you wished would end. but you had all the time in the world for the number to grow and grow beyond count.

requested by anonymous.

🏷 @sw34terw34ther @imabee-oralizard @mad-elia @velvetcloxds @natashxromanovf @ell0ra-br3kk3r @uwiuwi @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @krishavania @innerloverpainter @locke-writes

#laurie laurence x reader #laurie laurence #theodore laurence x reader #theodore laurence #little women x reader #little women fic #little women fanfiction #little women imagine #little women 2019 #little women movie #little women

[honeylations]

- Let Me Be Your Edward Cullen -

HUH YUNJIN x FEM!READER

Prompt: Being a total book nerd, you wanted to spend your entire day off finishing the entire Twilight novel series but it results in a sulky/jealous Huh Yunjin who tries her best in gaining your undivided attention…Even if it meant becoming your Walmart Edward Cullen.

Warning(s): swearing, jealous/sulkyYunjin, bookwormReader, comedy, puppyvibesYunjin

A/N: Idk how this suddenly came into my mind one day but I couldn’t stop giggling to myself at how cute this is😭

Manifesting YUNJIN CULLEN!!

———

It felt like ages since you and the girls finally had a day off without constant interviews and photo shoots so you decided to cozy up in your shared room with Yunjin and read your Twilight sequels.

The day you and Yunjin met was your first dance practice. You somehow arrived at the studio early so you sat down by the mirror and buried your face in your thick novel, trying to pass time until your members arrived. Yunjin was the first to walk in, absolutely mesmerised how angelic you looked with your metal frame glasses, long hair and bare face. Long story short, she fell in love with you and confessed her feelings a day after you debuted and you were happy to say you felt the same.

Since then, she knew your love for books. Romance ones especially.

She even gifted you a whole bag of romance novels for your birthday and you managed to read every single one within a few weeks. And you were down to do the same to the Twilight sequel Eunchae bought you recently when her and Kazuha stopped by a book store during their snack errands.

Here you were on your bed, legs warm under your quilt and the book resting in your hands, already half way through the story. Yunjin walked in wearing her own glasses which you twinned with after she begged at how cute it would look. She bent over to kiss your lips before sitting next to you.

“Hey baby” she greeted softly.

“Hi” You responded quickly before resuming your reading.

Yunjin’s brows furrowed as you didn’t use your usual nicknames for her but she shrugged it off. “Whatcha reading, pretty girl?”

“Twilight!!”

“Oh is that the Vampire thingy?” Yunjin asked while peeking over your shoulder as if she was actually interested in reading such a boring novel.

“Yep!”

“Oh I’ve watched the movie. It’s kinda cringe, don’t you think?”

“It’s romance! And plus, vampires are so hot” You commented, eyes never leaving the page.

Yunjin pouted cutely. She never thought she’d get jealous over a vampire. She pinched your cheek. “Can I have more kisses? It’s our day off, you know”

“After I finish this novel, babe. You’ll get all the kisses you want”

“But that’s gonna take forever! Look how thick that book is!” She threw a tantrum next to you.

“If you somehow magically became Edward Cullen, then my attention is all yours” You chuckled, flipping to the next page.

Yunjin sat up quickly and squinted, an idea forming into her mind. “Ok then. I’m gonna go and…do something BYE BABE LOVE YOU!” She kissed your temple before bolting out the door.

As she exited the room, she ran to Eunchae who was snacking on sliced fruits at the dining table. “Manchae!”

“Oh hi Unnie. Want some apples?”

“No thank you. You still got that glitter you used for your poster the other night?”

“The silver one? Yeah, it’s under my bed. Why?”

“Y/n won’t give me her attention unless I’m Edward Cullen” The 01 liner frowned and crossed her arms.

“Edward Cullen from Twilight? Im pretty sure she was joking Unnie” Eunchae giggled but Yunjin was serious.

She was gonna die if she didn’t get your loving soon. “Im willing to do anything for her affection, man. I need to find my light brown contacts too, for fucks sake”

“Language, young lady” Chaewon appears, slapping the back of Yunjin’s head before taking one of Eunchae’s sliced apples and popping it into her mouth.

“What’s wrong with you this time, Huh Yunjin?” The leader asked, Sakura and Kazuha coming in and sitting down.

“You look stress, Unnie” Zuha commented.

“Hey relax guys, I’m just trying to fulfil my nerd of a girlfriend’s dreams, okay? If she wants Edward Cullen, then I’ll be her Edward Cullen”

The other members giggled before cheering her on. “You go Huh Yunjin! We’ll help you out” Sakura smiled, making Yunjin’s eyes go wide.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah! It worries me when Y/n spends the entire day reading a book. She needs to go outside sometimes” Chaewon said, a hand on her hip.

“What’s your plan?” Eunchae asked Yunjin who took a deep breath in.

“Well for starters, I’ll do my makeup and have my light brown contacts in. Then I’ll just cover my body in glitter and recreate that scene where Edward let’s the sun shine on his tiddies and shows it to Bella”

“I don’t think that’s how the scene went but I get the drift. Let’s go to the bathroom!” Kazuha laughed, the 5 girls running upstairs, ensuring you didn’t hear their plan.

An hour and a half later…

The other girls decided to go out and eat ramen after helping Yunjin who gulped and peeked through the door, seeing you still in the same reading position.

“Babe” Yunjin whispered.

You hummed in response, not bothering to look up.

“Remember how you said you’d give me attention if I became Edward Cullen?”

You hummed again.

“Well. Here you go” Yunjin sighed and walked in, standing in front of the window where the sun shone through brightly.

Hearing those words, you finally looked up and your eyes widened as Yunjin started unbuttoning her long sleeve, her light brown eyes looking deep into yours.

‘Oh she did not…’ you thought, trying not to laugh.

Finally popping the last button, she stripped the top off and threw it aside, exposing her shining, glittery body. Your eyes scanned from her shoulders down to her gorgeous abs that sparkled from the light. “Holy…”

“Is this good enough to get your attention yet?”

You smiled and set your book down. “Hmmm, I don’t know. Are you able to carry me on your back while running?” You asked as a joke.

But of course your girlfriend didn’t take it as a joke so she snatch you up and gave you a piggy back before running out the room and attempted to go down the stairs. Seeing where this was going, your eyes widened and you jumped off Yunjin’s back who missed a step and fell down the rest of the stairs with a loud thud.

You gasped. “OH MY GOD, YUNJIN!” You screamed as you ran downstairs and saw your topless girlfriend sitting up, rubbing her head.

“Ow”

“For god’s sakes, ‘Jin, everything I said was a joke!” You said with worry, rubbing her slightly bruised head.

“I was just jealous you were reading that book more than spending time with me. I’m sorry” She pouted.

You sighed and pressed your lips softly against her’s, running your fingers through her long hair. “No don’t be sorry. I should’ve been reading that book another time. I’ll give you all the attention now, baby”

“Was I a good Edward Cullen?”

Chuckling, you cupped her face and squished her cheeks together. “You’re way better than Edward Cullen. My gorgeous vampire”

Feeling proud, she leant in and connected your lips again before pulling away.

“Wanna watch a movie?” You asked with love in your eyes.

“Of course! As long as it’s not Twilight though..”

You laughed and gently slapped her shoulder. “You can choose whatever movie you want, my love”

Yunjin jumped happily to her feet and dragged you to the couch where you spent the rest of the day in each other’s arms.

#huh yunjin #yunjin x reader #le sserafim x reader #gxg #wlw

[marabarl-and-marlbara]

Hi Mara, hope this isn’t too personal, but I was wondering when you first connected with Scientology, as in when did you first take interest in it and find comfort in it?

hi anonymous, good morning;

i first took an interest in scientology after playing archangel:nemesis, & then afterwards talking about early experiences with christianity with a few friends who had also played a:n (each of us having a common experience in being raised in church / christian schools), and then afterwards reading accounts of life in the sea org and taking scientology classes online;

then through a chain of events, i ended up dating (though it barely counts as that, i guess, but i was smitten and ready to move-in) an ex-scientologist; i took a 'pilgrimage' to visit clearwater and the flag service building there, and bought my first Bridge Official New Version Hot copy of Dianetics, and just sort-of loved how special it all felt; it made me think of one of those sea org stories i read about a newly-indoctrinated sea org member arriving at an airport clutching one of those distinct Volcano-Covered books and looking only like a scientologist could;

some of the events around this period are bleary, but god/communication was talking to me through the writing -- it:s bleary, because i don:t really remember / don:t want to comb through my own writing from this time; eventually it culminated in me having a very long vision (which put a big strain on the relationship with my ex) where LRH visited me and explained further outside/inside, and how he had purchased my soul, and how my soul was good purchase because of the source of its material (from that basic quaternal-base / qlippotic-base) to be used as listening device for the scientologist:s "outside church operation" (outside here: outside of the material basic; outside of the observable and the sensible); i keep trying to write this vision as a short story called "spaceship" but keep giving up on it (most recent attempt was just yesterday, incidentally; remembering the vision and how i could word the vision in writing was keeping me up at night the night prior; the lich LRH bent over me and urging me to sign-it and hearing soft rumbling down, down deep in the spaceship; the sky outside just black; his breath was sour and his body was close; and i:d feel the thunder inside the ship carried through the cold chair i were sat in; the room we were in was empty, and shone like a dull silver insect that had lost its luster as if it crawled into shade and chose to remain there to await its death); the vision starts with a lich LRH from billions of years ago, in the ship, at the start of the soul contract, to where my soul were purchased for cheap (i was a janitor aboard the ship & tempted with great importance and service for humanity immortal); and then advances near-present to the outside church--its cathedral-like form, white tiles, blue carpets, niches, occular rooms with portals to a blank black sky (there i:d lay with an outside e-meter (part of the explanation of the soul:s purpose was to liken my soul as being same as the e-meter; as bestial and earthy and under-upper-filament as the e-meter; qlippotic material (and the warning of God to the right-handed) as a bestial material one that will drown in earth with its second death and be granted annihilation, as beasts are, as material are, and not granted heaven as humanity)) that i:d consider a sister or kin, to keep me company in the loneliness of the outside church); then i:d spend years in the halls/staff-rooms of the outside church being given lessons by staff (cold little white rooms, small circular office-tables and little pipe chairs) about the doctrine and purpose and religion; then the now-dead LRH would speak with me, like he were a father but with a certain distance that indicated i were more like a favorite razor or dog than a child, and confess a level of regret about the mistakes some of the past incarnations of LRH had made; i liked him a lot in those moments; then he:d explain to me patternings and context behind events in my life that were used as "programming points of contact" to align me with his purpose/purchase for me (to set me up as a listening device in each life while i was active in-server); part of this were to show me "doors" inside the inside where traumatic events were inserted inside of me (i remember these as being intensely physically painful; he:d walk me through the chambers inside myself and the pain would move with me as we traveled deeper in-to my body, from brain, to groin); then he:d show me the thing i had been praying to--or it shew itself to me; the thing that i call "god" to obscure what i pray to: the material, and the ancestry; it shew itself to me as three forms: the pit of snakes that i saw dying in nightmare as kid; some weird beast monster in the dark; then some feverish red glow in a dark-place that stared at me with a hateful terrifying indifference--that it really did hate me, that i had been misled into praying and selling my soul to something truly callous and malicious and that sought only my death: and that i had to trust in my love for it, despite the terror, and keep praying to it;

~etcetera; i stopped talking/writing about scientology much because 1) i got tired of people seeking out scientology through me; 2) i couldn:t join an org if i wanted; 3) i wanted to connect more with adventism since i had grown up with it & god began talking to me once more through the voice of EGW & thought it sign that i need to graft "the word" of god on-to the writing of EGW to carry it further, and to map a blueprint for a clean, sane, division of chiral life through that grafting (ie: the gracecon story as a blueprint for segregrating life for left-handed and right-handed persons).

still, i always get a special fluttery feeling seeing the dumb volcano or the big HUBBARD name;

take care anonymous.

[o-uncle-newt]

Enter Sir John (and Lord Peter)

This is basically a Sayers blog alongside a Finnemore blog at this point- and this is going to be mostly a Sayers post but also a bit of a window into my other detective fiction reading, which I don't really post about here but kind of want to. A bit of an experiment. (Also, some spoilers to a very old and AFAIK out of print book that I don't particularly recommend below, as well as a Sayers novel.)

So I have been reading a LOT of random old timey detective fiction recently, and at one point made a reading list based on having read the fabulous The Golden Age of Murder by Martin Edwards, which I highly recommend to basically anyone with even the faintest interest in the subject (and even more so to Christie and Sayers fans). ANYWAY, I made the list, then completely forgot where I got it from, ordered a bunch of books through the NYPL's interlibrary loan system, and somehow got all of them at once. So now I have a stack of books from five states on my dresser, many of which are first editions. One of those is my copy of Enter Sir John by Clemence Dane and Helen Simpson, which isn't only a first edition but literally has the pencil inscription by the original owner from Christmas 1928, when he bought/received the book. Gah I love reading other people's old books.

Reading other people's old books in general is fun- reading this particular one was more of a mixed bag. The pacing was kind of weird, the mystery was kind of thin (and the motive was... PECULIAR for a 21st century reader, a mix of oddly progressive and deeply, deeply problematic depending on how you look at it), and the characterization of most of the characters was pretty thin. The atmosphere of the small-time theatrical setting was fun, and the detective, Sir John Saumarez, is reasonably entertaining. To go through, and mildly spoil (you'll see why shortly), the plot- someone is found dead who had been known to have previously quarrelled with a woman in the past, under circumstances which make it clear that this woman had both motive, means, and opportunity. The woman is arrested and her trial is attended by a man with a title who is struck by her and feels compelled to work on her behalf. He works hard to find the actual killer when the trial goes poorly for her, and realizes that he is in love with her and confesses his feelings to her.

Sound familiar?

For context, Enter Sir John was published two years before Dorothy L Sayers's Strong Poison, and to be transparent I fiddled a bit with the timing and phrasing to make the synopsis as CLEARLY correlated as it is (he doesn't confess his feelings to her until after he's gotten her off the murder charges, she's actually in the room when the murder victim is found, she actually is convicted and her conviction is overturned on appeal, among other changes). If the above plot sounds interesting and you HAVEN'T read Strong Poison, just skip and read Strong Poison because it does the whole thing SO much better. For one thing, the mystery is better- this was Dane and Simpson's first mystery, and while I largely enjoyed Dane's earlier novel Regiment of Women (which I may post my thoughts about sometime), this book just didn't really work for me. It's technically fair play, I guess, but there aren't a whole lot of actual suspects or clues (there aren't many suspects in Strong Poison either, but there are many more clues and there's a much more robust structure).

The other major difference, and this is pretty important because it's at exactly the point where the two books are so similar, is that the characterization of the romance in Enter Sir John is REALLY NOT GOOD. Sure, as Sayers noted in her 1929 introduction to her Omnibus of Crime anthology, love interests in detective novels are often shitty and this isn't necessarily significantly worse than certain others I have read. But while there do seem to be attempts to describe the suspect's personality in a way that makes her sound more honest, frank, straightforward, etc (the kinds of ways that Harriet Vane comes across later in Strong Poison), she also comes across really naive and dumb, and really doesn't have a whole lot to do in the book at all to counteract that impression. On the plus side... she isn't AS racist as some other people, I guess? (This plays into the motive, which I can describe in the comments for people- it's too annoying to get bogged down in.) But anyway, Sir John largely (apparently? it's not characterized super well) is compelled by her and falls in love with her because of her striking appearance and her good breeding and gentility or whatever, and it's all just super awkward. (Also, there's the same "oh no I didn't realize you were proposing" awkwardness in this book as in Regiment of Women, which does it MUCH better and for MUCH better characterization-related reasons. In this book it's just kind of skin-crawling to read.)

Anyway, why have I made you all read about why I didn't particularly like a not-super-easy-to-find book that you were unlikely to ever read anyway? Well, partly because it's an interesting curiosity- and because as I was reading I was like "what the hell, how did Sayers get away with this?" So I cracked open my copy of The Golden Age of Murder again and in its description of the book realized that it mentions that Sayers and Simpson were friends and that Enter Sir John is of interest as an inspiration to Strong Poison, which in retrospect is probably why I put it on my list in the first place.

But I'm still left with some lingering questions. While the actual murder plot and motive are entirely different, this particular throughline on the part of the detective is really STARTLINGLY similar, not least because Sir John Saumarez has some distinctive surface resemblances to Wimsey. For one thing, the method used to trap the killer (casually having them be part of a reenactment/discussion of the way the murder took place) is used by Sayers in Strong Poison as a ruse that Wimsey uses to try to catch Harriet Vane out, if there's anything to catch (when he "casually" brings up the murder-for-book-profits mystery plot idea he had). For another, like Wimsey later would in Strong Poison, Saumarez has a whole inner monologue about how he has only a month to solve the case (though in his case it's before the suspect is executed, and in Wimsey's case it's the IMO more plausible situation of being before the retrial occurs).

All that being considered, one major difference is, of course, that at the end of Strong Poison Wimsey and Harriet don't get engaged, and Saumarez and the suspect (whose name I don't even remember, if I'm being honest, she REALLY wasn't that memorable) do. But Sayers famously wrote that she wanted to use this book to marry Wimsey off! If she had followed through, and still used this same book as a way to do it, would she have literally lifted, if substantially improved, this plotline from her friend's book in order to do it? She was such an original writer- would she have borrowed so significantly from another writer to finish off a series that she had worked so hard on, even if it was one she was wearying of?!

It's interesting, because I wrote in a previous post about how it feels like after writing the Omnibus of Crime intro, including how bad mystery romance plots are, she dared herself to do it better. Reading this book makes me wonder if she read THIS PARTICULAR BOOK and decided she wanted to do it better. Which would be fascinating whether that was a decision that she made before she'd decided to continue the series after this book or afterward- before, in which case she'd be wholesale lifting the plot but at the same time elevating it lol I feel like I'm writing crossword clues) just by virtue of better writing and characterization in both that plot and the mystery that surrounded it, or after, in which case one of her ways of elevating it would de facto BE changing the ending to make it less corny and awkward, and writing a detective romance which is actually psychologically plausible and satisfying rather than just pairing pants and a skirt, so to speak.

Anyway- decidedly mediocre book that I don't particularly recommend, but one that made me ask some questions that I had a lot of fun pondering! I also had fun writing this, and am considering doing another one on Leo Bruce's The Case for Three Detectives, which was tremendously fun as a pastiche of Wimsey as well as Poirot and Father Brown.

#dorothy l sayers #lord peter wimsey #wimsey #harriet vane #enter sir john #clemence dane #helen simpson #classic mystery fiction #also worth noting- hitchcock directed an adaptation of this called murder! #i'm not especially excited about this #murder! is just what it's literally called #if you've seen it and it's any good let me know!

[heyifinallyhaveablog]

A Fan in Distress:

This post is basically being sent in vacuum, since this is probably the millionth of its kind on Tumblr relating to J.K. Rowling. I for one, could relate to Harry Potter for the longest time, until very recently, since once you try reviving an old favourite of yours, chances are, that you might love them, or find yourself in an ethical dilemma worse than ever.

TLDR: As of today, I harbour no ethical dilemmas. Whatever JKR has said and done in enforcement of her transphobia is problematic, and considering her power and position is inexcusable. Her social capital has already been elevated enough to shield her from the monetary effects of any backlash thereof. And we don't need to add to it.

Time to let the Harry Potter franchise rest in its grave.

---

Here, I'll confess my own sins. I'm an owner of all seven of those books. I've loved all of them more than life itself. I've loved Neville and I've loved Dobby. Completing my HP set was my first quest after I'd started earning, and I'd very recently bought the Harry Potter Almanac. It was actually after this purchase that YouTube (courtesy of its algorithm) threw up two podcast videos for me to listen to while working. (Yeah, I live under a rock, and, yes, apparently this issue of JKR being a transphobe hasn't really gained much audience in our country. I sincerely doubt that many people knew of this. They probably still don't.)

But yes, while ignorance may be blissful, it is certainly not desirable. And this is where those podcast videos by Contrapoints and Jesse Gender educated me about this issue. Particularly Aranock's testimony of her experience as a trans female, particularly with respect to the hatred and harassment she was subjected to after JKR's spiteful revelations actually shook me to the core. I felt despair, sadness, anger and yes, Guilt too.

I'D FELT CHEATED.

Because, you don't listen, JKR. For some reason, you've refused to listen, heed, and reason. This probably won't reach you, but I'm sure you would know what being unheard feels like, and here, you are, after having written of inclusion and consideration, love and respect, in your set of fantasy novels, standing on your millions that those novels got you, and yet, becoming the exact polar opposite of what you'd preached, and hurting millions in your obstinacy. You are now leading us to believe that your make believe world holds no good for anything apart from the age old viciously exclusionary social mores that people are fighting so hard against. Even to this day, even in countries as evolving as mine, even in countries as 'developed' as yours.

But yes, none of this makes any difference to you, does it? And as for us, we shall definitely adjust and cast aside something that millions of us grew up to love. For that, is the right thing to do.

So henceforth-

No Harry Potter merchandise for me.

No more Harry Potter books/films for me.

Harry Potter shan't be passed to my children from me. But yeah, Sandman certainly will.

An ashamed ex-Potterhead

#harry potter #jk rowling #anti jkr #transphobia cw #jkr #anti transphobes #we must do better #i must do better

[national-hockey-lesbian]

do you have any poetry collection recommendations/poet recommendations in general just to like Read?

boy do i ever!!!

okay i have two all time top favorite poets (not ranked in a particular order):

1. Louise Glück: There was actually an anthology published of all the books so published from the start of her career to 2012.

(Poems 1962-2012 is 600+ pages of incredible poetry and relatively cheap, especially for its size and considering poetry tends to cost more than fiction books)

Glück’s poetry is actually the reason I started reading more poetry in the first place. She writes both long form and short form poetry (with her more recent working being longer than a lot of her previous poems), and her language level tends to be pretty accessible.

She writes about hundreds of different topics, but reading from the anthology you get a large mix of themes about motherhood, love, and nature and she also has collections that focus on greek mythology as well as jewish religion.

She has won a Nobel Prize for her poetry, which I consider to be a pretty good way to gauge the caliber of her work!

Highly, highly recommend her work!!

2. Ocean Vuong.

I’ve read his three most recent works: Night Sky With Exit Wounds, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, and Time is a Mother.

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous is actually a novel rather than a poetry collection but it reads a lot like poetry and I consider it to be an must-read.

A lot of his works center around his his experience as a queer, Vietnamese American and his relationship with his own intrapersonal identity as well as with his mother. I cant think of a single poem of his that isn’t absolutely incredible, and I think if you’re going to talk about the best poets of our age he’s a crucial mention.

I highly recommend reading his works in publishing order (which is the way I listed them above). His poetry is genuinely life-changing and I cannot stress how much I recommend his writing.

Outside of my two favorite authors I also recommend:

–Amanda Gorman, who is the youngest inaugural poet in U. S. history and is shaping the voice of modern poetry.

You can watch her recite her inaugural poem, “The Hill We Climb” here!

She also has published a collection of her poetry, Call Us What We Carry, which I read all in the same day I bought it because it’s brilliant and captivating.

—The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo, which is a fiction novel but the main character narrates the story through her own poetry, making it a poetry collection and a novel all in one. I read this for the first time when I was 13 and I pick it up again every single year.

(I do also highly recommend looking up trigger warnings for this book before you read it, because there are a couple scenes that can be intense!)

—The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On by Franny Choi. It’s likely you’re familiar with this quote from it (which i see circulating tumblr and pinterest all the time):

“Lord, I confess I want the clarity of catastrophe but not the catastrophe. Like everyone else, I want a storm I can dance in.

I want an excuse to change my life.”

And I can guarantee the rest of this poetry collection is just as poignant and beautiful! Highly recommend, 10/10 stars always.

—Pablo Neruda is also one of my favorite poets! I own a large collection of his poetry, The Poems of Pablo Neruda, which places the original poem, written in Spanish, next to the English translation, which I enjoy a lot. He also has a lot of well-known quotes that float around tumblr a lot, so that sense of familiarity can be fun, especially when you’re not expecting it!

Hope you enjoy these recommendations!

#this is actually a funny request right now because whenever i recommend poetry i go through my own personal book collection #and i’m moving to college in less than a week (and flying with a limited amount of bag) so a lot of my favorite books are going #to be left behind and every single book on this list owns a well loved place in my collection #so i have DECISIONS to make #especially because i can’t guarantee that what i leave behind will ever come back into my possession #but anyways!! i am always down to discuss poetry #my sister also just gifted me a collection of all the poems she’s ever written and i wish i could just telepathically communicate it to you #but alas she has not yet taken my advice to publish any of her poetry anywhere😔 (except for in my personal library ofc) #i also donated a lot of my books recently and there was a really good poetry book in there i can’t remember the title or author of😭😭 #ask #poetry #recs #me re-reading this list realizing how american it is clearly i have a bias

[venuss-heart]

One more request :)

overall HC’s with this scenario?

right before they ask y/n out a little kid runs up to y/n and Them and scream. “Mama! papa!”

Note : I don't know what character you wanted in this story so I'll just choose simpbur! Also it's more like a one shot on headcanon paragraphs but I still hope you enjoy it.

I CAN'T FIGHT THIS FEELING ANYMORE |SIMPBUR|

Pairing : simpbur x fem!reader

Summary : a confession of love is interrupted by an adorable kid, but interrupted doesn't mean ruined.

Warnings : quite long, also flashbacks of childhood, soft simpbur.

Simp had been building up the courage to open up to you about his feeling for you, being childhood friends didn't help with him not wanting to ruin your friendship. So recently after you comforted him when he had an anxiety attack, he knew he couldn't keep living without being able to call you his. He had dreamed it for years while writing his songs that recently had started to sound like the cries of a man, desperate to touch the lips of someone who he viewed as a deity.

One day after getting back from work he went to his shitty dorm room and changed into the nicest clothes he had, a dark blue sweater you gifted him on his birthday and black jeans with matching sneakers. He texted you asking you to meet him on the park were you two first met when you two were children. It was a special place for him and hoped that it was also the same to you, he always went there if you were too busy when he wanted to spend time together. He still remembers your meeting...

He was a short thin boy who wanted nothing but to hide in his room under his bed and read the new book his dad bought for him, but his dad forced him to go out and play so he could finally make some friends. He had always been shy so he had a hard time socializing from a young age, and as he was just sulking in he catched the sight of a pretty person who was his same age.

Their eyes were full of passion unlike his dull ones, they had a bright smile on their face unlike the frown he had and they seemed to be quite joyful, whilst he had a furrowed brow showing his discomfort at being in a place he didn't wish to be in. What surprised was how they immediately approached him with a now worried gaze, from that day on you two were inseparable.

It seemed like your mission to make him the happiest boy now a man worked, he couldn't help but be the person who had the biggest smile in the place when he was with you. You were to him the personification of serotonin I'm his life and it was addictive to him, as you two grew up he realised how his platonic yet obsessive gaze upon you turned into a romantic one. Now thinking of you made his heart beat faster and his pale cheeks would turn red.

After you responded with a "see you there <3" he smiled brightly and quickly headed over to the destination, when he arrived he sat down on a park bench that was your favourite colour c/n. He was doing it again, feeling attached to things he knew about you like favourite colours, the fact that he wore the clothes you gave him and that while waiting for you he was listening to your favourite song. All of those things made him sigh hoping you'll accept his confession, he'd be destroyed if not but he wouldn't stop being your friend. It'd just hurt more to lose you completely.

The sounds of calm and familiar footsteps made him leave his daydreams for a bit, there you were in all your glory wearing casual but very nice clothes. You always knew how to look good without even trying while he still looked like a mess, even after he spent a long time trying to look better than ever for this day. You greeted him with a smile just like the day you two met, it still was a bright as ever having that same vibe that yelled youth at anyone who was lucky enough to receive it. The brunette approached you and wrapped his arms around you like he always did when he saw you, telling you how he was glad you could come to see him.

You told him how you'd always do your best to spend time with him as much as possible, he simply blushed and looked away shyly for a bit trying to gain back confidence. He then looked you in the eyes and said he had to tell you something important, taking a deep breath he opened his mouth to talk but before any words could come out, the sound of a young child's voice sounded in the background. You two looked over in shock seeing a child who looked like a mix of the two of you running happily towards you two, they were adorable to say the least almost like a little angel who had bur's hair, your eye colour, your smile and his British accent.

“Mama, papa” the young child blurted out at you both and they hugged Bur's legs with their tiny arms, the brunette blushed imagining how it would be to have kids with you one day. You simply let out a small laugh when seeing the scene unfold, the child giggled cutely and made grabby hands towards you so you'd pick them up. You complied and they cuddled onto you while you simply smiled, you looked over at bur with a soft smile and noticed his heart eyes towards you.

Soon a woman and a man named quickly saying their child was the one on your arms and how they always seemed to run off to play, you gave them their child back and said bye to the kid with tenderness in your voice. You then looked over simp who seemed to still be quite charmed by how motherly you were with the kid, you waved your hand in front of his face to make him react. He blushed and said he was sorry for acting so weird and you simply responded "don't worry man, now what did you want to tell me?".

#simpbur x reader #headcanons #one shot #e-girl trilogy #112-writes

[dearshelby]

Hi Lora- those Halloween requests are irresistible. Could I request "tying up" with Tommy?

I hope you have fun

xx Val 🤍

Hey, Val! This one is a bit long, I'm starting to suspect I'm not good in writing blurbs 😅 Hope you like it!

WHERE YOU SHALL REMAIN | “Tommy Shelby + Tying up”

Tommy killed the engine after parking in front of black, fancy iron gates, the walls circling the property were tall and intimidating, it was the first time you visited the place and you already weren't fond of it.

"Are you sure it's here?" you asked, caressing your pregnant belly.

"It'll be good for her to grow up near nature, don't you think?" he rhetorically asked, regardless of your opinion, you knew Tommy would have more say in your child's life than you, after all, he was paying for everything.

In spite of the unbalanced power dynamic between you and him, you were happy to have Tommy in your life, if he was entirely yours, you'd dare to say you love him.

He was sweet, affectionate and protective of you, the only downside was the ring in his finger, but according to him, his marriage was a sham, so what was the harm?

Mr. Thomas Shelby, a respectable member of the parliament, took you as his mistress around eight months ago. Considering the age gap, you got pregnant quite soon and when your belly started to show, he bought you this house in the countryside.

"How can you be so certain it'll be a girl?" you questioned while he helped you climb out the car.

"I can see the future." he answered and you giggled, he didn't seem to be joking though.

To be honest, you were glad Tommy was accepting of the pregnancy, he even wanted it to be a girl, the reason for that, however, Tommy won't tell you, he didn't want any possible bastard boy to get in Charlie's way in the future.

He guided you inside with a hand on your lower back, walking through the garden, you noticed the grass was recently cut, you wondered if there would be any servants to help you.

Tommy unlocked the front door and let you walk in first. The living room had a simple, but tasteful decoration, the bedroom was cozy and perfectly sized for you and Tommy, but your favourite part was the library, three walls full of books for you to devour.

"The maid, Betty, will bring more condiments tomorrow evening, she'll come three times a week to clean and cook." Tommy explained at the end of the house tour.

"Does she know about us?" you sat down at the living room's sofa.

"She's related to my house's head maid, so I guess they're alike, if she asks too much just give her a bribe and she'll shut up."

"I see." you nodded, "I won't need to do anything then."

"You're carrying my child, I don't want you running around." Tommy sat beside you, "What do you think of the house?"

"Well, I-" you gulped, not wanting to sound ungrateful, "it's beautiful, but I think- I think I still prefer the flat I showed you in London."

"Y/N-"

"I know, Tom, I'm not complaining, I know you've got a reputation to maintain and be seen with me…" you pouted, showing your disappointment.

"You know things aren't like I want them to be, love," he took an affectionate hand to your belly, "if it depended on only me you'd move to my house so I'd be able to see you- both my girls every day."

"What about when she grows up?" you weakly smiled, "I doubt there's a good school around."

"She'll be homeschooled."

"My child won't be homeschooled, Tommy," you quickly disagreed, "you can afford a good, private school."

"People will talk if some girl called Shelby suddenly show up."

"She won't take your name then, only mine." you argued and he scoffed.

"She's my fucking child, of course she'll take my name."

"If she's your child, give her a decent future then!"

"Let's discuss her future after she's born, eh?" Tommy slowly said, by his tone you could tell he was angry.

He lit a cigarette while you looked around the room, getting some courage, you confessed, "I don't like this place."

"You don't like the house."

"I like the house, but not the place, it's isolated from the world."

"I told you I'd get something discreet."

"Yeah, I imagined it'd be something near Birmingham or London, not something like this!"

"You'll get used to it, you grew up in big cities, that's why you don't like it."

"No," you teared up, there'd be no way you'd live in a place like that, "please, for my and the baby's sake, Tommy, don't make us live here."

"It's already arranged."

"But how will you visit us, you barely have time and it's so far-"

"Enough, Y/N."

He never had spoken to you in such a manner, looking down, you tried to fight the tears threatening to run down your face and lost, Tommy softly squeezed your arm, pulling you to his lap.

"There," he brushed your tears away, "didn't mean to make you cry."

You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder, he patted your back almost in childish consolation. Slowly, frustration went away, you felt safe and relaxed in Tommy's arms, his smell, his taste, his touch, everything about him worked like morphine every time you were nervous.

"Better?" he asked, taking off his tie.

"Yeah."

"Good." while still petting your back with one hand, Tommy grabbed your wrist and held it behind your back with the other.

"What are you doing?" you peeked at him.

"Gonna make you feel good now." Tommy kissed your shoulder and took your other wrist, holding them together and tying them up with his tie.

"Here?"

"So you'll get used to it." with that being said, Tommy laid you on the sofa.

He took your shoes and stockings off, leaning in, he pressed a trail of kisses from your jaw to your chest.

Breathing heavily, you tried to wrap your arms around him like you always do, but the knot around your wrists made it impossible.

"Tommy," you moaned, "untie me."

"'I'm afraid I can't do that." he drawled, looking into your eyes.

"What?" you nervously giggled, "C'mon, Tommy, untie me."

"If you weren't so stubborn, we could have spent the night here."

Tommy stood up and took the keys of his car, you immediately sat up, "What-"

"Betty will bring your baggage tomorrow morning."

"Tommy, stop playing, this isn't funny."

"It really isn't, love," he kissed your forehead while you tried to set yourself free, "see you next week."

"Tommy! Tommy!" you called while he headed to the door.

You stood up and tried to run after him, but as soon as you got close, he pushed you with such strength that you fell on the floor.

"Don't do that again, it's not good for the baby." he ordered.

As he walked out and locked the door behind him, you knew there was no escape, you'd be there for a long, long time.

HALLOWEEN REQUESTS

#tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #2022's halloween

[supernaturalgirl20]

Hello there!

Congratulations on reaching 1k followers!!

Thank you very much for your stories, these have seen me through some troublesome times 💗💗

Would it be possible for me to request these following prompts:

1. Idiots in love - “you’re cute.” “what?” “i said you look like a fruit.” “that doesn’t even make any sense.” with Marcus Pike

2. Soulmates AUs - Soulmates share a unique tattoo that represent aspects of their character with Din Djarin

Thank you again love ❤️

Thank you so so much 🥰 here is your Marcus request first, hope you enjoy ☺️

Confession

Pairings: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Warnings: Secret feelings, mutual pining, fluff.

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

Marcus was exhausted. It had been a long week - the case he was working on coming up empty on leads - and all he wanted was to curl up on the couch with you and watch Casablanca.

You had recently moved in with him - just as a roommate, Marcus didn’t want to ruin your friendship by confessing his feelings. He’d bought a house when he first moved to DC, thinking that Theresa would be living with him and that they would be starting a family. That didn’t work out.

The house was too big. Lonely - so when you had mentioned your lease was up because your landlord was selling the apartment - he practically jumped at the chance to live with you. It was going - great. Perfect even and you had both fallen into this domestic routine that was giving him all kinds of feelings - deeper feelings, because he already really liked you.

He would come home and you would be there in his kitchen cooking dinner for you both or slouched on his couch with his cat Ilsa reading a book. It was becoming harder for him to keep his emotions in check, when he wanted nothing more than to make you his.

***

Closing the door behind him, he drops his keys on the hall table and kicks off his shoes. The sound of music filters through the house and a smile creeps onto his face. She’s dancing again.

He knows where to find you - cooking in the kitchen, something he’s found you love to do. You haven’t spotted him yet so he leans himself against the doorframe and just watches you. The way you stir the food in the pot as you sway your hips to the beat. Ilsa sitting on the floor beside you - practically begging for scraps.

“Here you go Ilsa - your favourite, chicken - just don’t tell daddy ok, it’ll be our little secret.”

Marcus though he was going to implode. Oh god she just called me daddy. He couldn’t help it, all his blood went rushing to one place and he desperately wanted to touch you. He moves away from the door and slowly creeps towards you.

“God you’re cute.” He blurts out before he can actually register what he’s saying.

“What?” You say, a little startled by his presence.

“I…eh…I said you look like a fruit”. He closes his eyes then, silently cursing himself. You fucking idiot - you look like a fruit.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” you say with a smile. You stand there staring at him as he takes deep breaths, his eyes closed.

Fuck it, he thinks to himself, it’s now or never. Opening his eyes he finds you gazing at him with a slightly concerned look on your face. His heart is practically beating out of his chest, his palms a little sweaty from the nerves.

“I said you’re cute. Look - he says moving towards you - I really like you and not just as a friend. I want us to be together, as a couple. I never thought I’d find someone after Lisbon but then you came crashing into my life - literally - and I’ve loved you ever since.”

You’re in shock. This can’t be real. There is no way Marcus is confessing his feeling for you - this only happened in your dreams. “What?”

Marcus scratches the back of his neck - that nervous thick he has - and he avoids eye contact. He must think I don’t feel the same. You can’t form the words you need to tell him how you feel so you wrap your arms around his neck and crash your lips to his. It takes him a hot minute but then he’s wrapping his arms around you pulling you close. The kiss deepening.

When you both finally pull apart, he beaming at you. “I take it you like me to?”

“No!”

His face drops and you start to laugh at his crestfallen face. “I don’t just like you Marcus, I love you.”

“Oh thank god,” he says kissing you again. It’s a little softer this time and his hands are wrapped tightly around you, afraid you might disappear. The sound of the pasta bubbling over breaks you apart, as you rush to turn off the hob.

“Go change and I’ll dish up.”

He comes up behind you wrapping himself around you. His mouth inches from your ear. “Does this mean you’ll be sleeping in my bed tonight?”

The sound of his deep baritone voice laced in lust sends a shiver down your spine. The hard length of him pressed into your ass. “Yes! Only if you want me to.”

“Oh I want you to, but we won’t be doing any sleeping.” You practically come right then and there with the way his hands are roaming your body, the whisper of his voice. You turn in his arms and kiss him passionately.

“The food can wait, take me to bed now - daddy.”

Permanent tag list: @lunaserenade @anaaaispunk @maievdenoir @elinedjarin @seasonschange-butpeopledont @alberta-sunrise @dihra-vesa @pintsizemama @athalien @loserrlauraa @thorins-queen-of-erebor @pascal-rascal424 @ikinmahlen @pascalisthepunkest @dindjarinneedsahug @almaeunice @jediknight122 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @colorlesswhispersunknown @stevie75 @rosie-posie08 @hauntedmama @greeneyedblondie44 @prettylilhalforc @giselatropicana @phoenixhalliwell @sherala007 @its--fandom--darling @donnaa @javierpinme @luxmundee @littlemisspascal @hayley-the-comet @ezras-channel-rat @misspearly1 @writer-darling @misspearlssideblog @sara-alonso

#pedro pascal #marcus pike x female reader #pedro pascal x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the mentalist fanfiction

[tinx-methinks]

43, 44, 45, and 49! 💕

Thank you lovely~! I was hoping I'd get more than one of these. <3 Hope you're ready for this answer lol

43. Title of a book you own that’s in the worst physical condition you have. Explain what happened to it. Post a picture if you want.

I waited till now to answer this cause I wanted to include a picture of my shame and these books were tucked safely away in the back of my bedroom bookshelf where my partner was sleeping so I couldn’t get them. Confession time: I love reading in the bath. And in the days before my waterproof ereader I have destroyed a book or two simply by rereading it and exposing it to my wet and wild habit over and over. Please don’t judge me for the severity of these pictures, it was a different time.

All trigger warnings for severely abused books apply.

That is my copy of The Good the Bad and The Undead by Kim Harrison which is the second book in her The Hollows/Rachel Morgan series and the first one I read after finding it in my dad’s rejected books pile. It’s probably the book I’ve reread the most besides Reaper Man by Terry Prachett as I recall finishing it on occasions and immediately restarting it. I loved it. I actually own three copies of this book. This one. A digital copy in a full series omnibus. And another copy of the paperback bought recently as I’d love to own the entire series so I’m trying to pick the ones I’m lacking. 

The second is my copy of Darkfever by Karen Marie Moning this is the first book in her Fever series which I to this day haven’t finished but at the time it was a favored because of its interesting world building, angst ridden characters, and of course the sexy potential of its (poorly aged!) love to hate ‘em alpha-male romantic interests. Still I used to wait for each new book of the series to be available at the library and while I waited I used to reread my copy of this one to keep the characters fresh in my mind. Funfact: I also bought a digital bundle of this series which I was reading as my “work book” (the book I only read at work) for a while. And I made it all the way to where I originally stopped. The last book in the original series, book five: Shadowfever. I made it halfway through it when the lockdowns hit and at that point I didn’t want to start reading my work book at home so I still haven’t finished it. That’s probably ok though, while I enjoy the nostalgia of the characters and world it’s not so great in 2023! 

So yeah I think they’re both pretty banged up but I think Darkfever might be a little worse? It certainly feels worse to the touch! Pages clumped and stuck together and edges destroyed. Its more waterdamaged at least, but the other one is split down the middle so I guess that’s also pretty bad! I'm posting both tho because the other one def looks worse.

44. The book(s) whose stories have become part of your very makeup.

Reaper Man. Dragonlance: Chronicles, Legends, Tales, the Lost Chronicles, and the Raistlin Duology in particular. The Count of Monte Cristo. Cyrano De Bergerac, The Art of Asking. American Gods. Countless short stories, fairy tales, myths and legends. The first six books of The Hollows series by Kim Harrison also need to be mentioned. Particularly the one above. You can’t imagine how mortified I was when I got my partner to read them and he commented “Hey, you, like, took some of your personality from these didn’t you?” Yeah. Probably bruh. But you don’t have to call me out like that.  Books five, seven, and eight of the Women of the Otherworld Series probably deserve an honorable mention for the same reason tbh. More recently I think the series of Bring Me Their Hearts, and The Library of the Unwritten definitely rewrote something in my brain. 

45. What book(s) would you sell your soul to get a TV or movie adaptation of?

Listen the other day I was imagining a Monty Python style variety show adaption of Daniel M Lavery’s book Something that May Shock and Discredit You which a WILD PULL but the only answer I have for you right now. I think it would have animated parts like Python did but they’d be stylized like The Simpson’s animation. I don’t fantasize about adaptations but I think they really work best for children’s books so if you made me answer seriously I guess I’d go with The Tales of the Frog Princess by E.D. Baker and maybe that should’ve been in the question above too lol. 

49. Do you prefer hopeful, humorous, very emotional or darker books?

I think I tend to err toward darker and angstier books. I get a lot of catharsis from them but I think most of the time books like The Bone Orchard or Leech or Iron Widow or whatever I’m reading that deals with dark topics usually benefit from that undercurrent of hope. I don’t think dark and emotional needs to lack hope and I tend to most enjoy ones that allow space for both. 

That being said I read a lot and I think what I like most is having options and variety.

Asks for Bookworms here

#personal #me #asks #mxmoons #<3

[larabiatasstuff]

Hello @larabiatasstuff I was wondering if you could write another story please? It's a longer one than last time so I understand if you dont have time or dont want to do it. If that's the case then dont worry. But if you did, I had a thought about cobra kai terry? He seems like he would protect you no matter what. My idea was you are 7 months pregnant with your abusive boyfriends baby, and you cant get away from him. Your bestfriends with terry and he stops your boyfriend from attacking you one day and takes you to live with him in his enormous beach house. Its after that where he confesses why he saved you, and that he wants you. But he understands if you want to take it slow because of the relationship you just had. And he even wants to help you raise your baby. Thank you 💙

Thank you for your request anon 🖤 Don't worry about the length of your request. You could send me a book and I would gladly write something for you. 🙏 You're very welcome 🖤It has two parts.

Triggerwarning : pregnancy, domestic abuse

"God it seems you're getting bigger every day. Also did you look in the mirror recently? You could at least make sure you look presentable." my boyfriend said looking me up and down. I was seven month pregnant at the time, constantly walking on egg shells cause even breathing would cause him to snap. I wished nothing more for me to escape from this relationship but I was afraid he'd hurt me and the baby. "I'm sorry it's just the pregnancy and the household. It's too much." I said, my heart beating fast in my chest. "Bullshit, my mother was pregnant with me and my brother and she still went to work. You're just weak." Sam said. "Yeah but I'm not your mother."I said almost in a whisper. Suddenly he stomped towards me grabbing me by the throat pushing me against the wall. "What was that?" his face was now close to mine "I'm... I'm sorry. I'll try to get everything done, I promise but please I have an doctor's appointment I have to go now." he let go of me "Fine, make sure you bring some bourbon when you come back." "Of course." with that I took the car keys and drove to the doctor's office. I parked the car and started crying uncontrollably till I heard a knock on the window. I looked up and it was Terry. His dojo was next to the doctor's and since I had regular appointments, we often met and became close friends. He opened the car door and got on the passengers seat. "Hey Y/N what's wrong? Is it something with the baby?" he asked putting a hand on my shoulder. "No it's just... I don't know for how long I can do that Terry. Sam's mood gets worse everyday and.... I wish I could leave him." "But you can. Y/N I will help you with everything." I shook my head "No Terry I can't. If he just gets the tiniest hint of me leaving him he'd kill me." Terry sighed. "Okay but I want you to have this. It's a pager, if you ever find yourself in danger just send 911 and I will be there. That's a promise." I looked at him tears still running down my face. "Thank you Terry, for everything." he pulls me into a very tight hug. "Anything for you Y/N." I took a deep breath and wiped my tears away. "I'm sorry Terry but I can't be late for my appointment." he gave me a soft smile "Alright Y/N and remember if you need me I'm there for you." We both got out of the car and I went to the doctors. After that I bought some bourbon and drove home.

#thomas ian griffith #sensei targaryen #terry silver #cobra kai #terry silver x reader

[semper-legens]

163. Your Wish Is My Command, by Deena Mohamed

Owned: No, library Page count: 518 My summary: Wishes can be bought and sold. First class wishes - wishes near-guaranteed to work, to give you something big - are a hot commodity. And one unassuming market kiosk is selling three, for a discounted price, completely legally. Enter Aziza, Nour, and Shokry; a poor widow, a nonbinary kid, and the kiosk owner, all in need of something, all wishing for their futures. But will the wishes come true? My rating: 5/5 My commentary:

This was another random grab - it seems that whenever we get an interesting-looking graphic novel at work, I'm going to give it a shot, particularly if it's standalone. This one was originally written in Arabic by an Egyptian writer. I don't think I've ever read anything translated from Arabic before, so that's a new one. It was a really interesting book, perfectly balancing the human angle and character-driven stories with the premise of wishes as a material, tradeable good that is a fact of life within the world. It was a lot deeper and more thought-provoking than I had (for some reason) assumed that it would be, and I have to both commend and recommend it for that. It's a really good book!

The story is split into three tales, focusing on three first-class wishes sold by a man named Shokry from a kiosk he runs. The first is bought by Aziza, a recently bereaved working class woman who could never have been able to afford a wish like that under normal circumstances. In the process of attempting to legally register the wish, she has it confiscated from her and ends up spending years in prison for 'stealing' the wish that she legally bought. The commentary is plain. A working class hijabi widow is automatically seen as being a criminal, as being suspect, when she has access to something deemed too expensive for her, even though she scrimped and saved for a very long time to be able to afford it even at a discount. And just because she doesn't want to give in to the authorities and 'confess' to the wish being stolen, she is discriminated against and thrown into a cell, mistrusted and not believed until the very end. It's a harrowing story of pain and resilience, but in the end she gets her wish, and gets to use it as she originally intended, all those years ago.

Our middle story is about Nour, a student from a well-off background who can definitely afford their wish, but has no idea how to use it effectively. They're nonbinary and are struggling with a lot of the issues around that, such as dysphoria and fear of social rejection, but they know that making wishes can be tricky. If you don't ask for exactly the right thing, your wish is likely to backfire or cause unexpected results, which Nour really wants to avoid. On top of that, they're struggling with some serious depression and mental health issues, something they're not managing to keep under control and are in danger of failing all their classes and flunking out of school. Nour's problems are an interesting contrast to Aziza - while Aziza initially struggles with more external problems, like money, Nour is from a rich background but has a lot of internal problems, like the mental illness. Neither is really treated as being 'more important' by the narrative, however. They're both debilitating and both the most important thing in that character's life, which I thought was a nice touch.

Finally, we have Shokry himself. Shokry is a devout Muslim who believes that wishes in general are haram, that they go against Allah's will for the world and that using one would automatically condemn him. His story is really about the struggle with that, as he befriends an elderly woman who is dying of cancer. The wish could be used to save her life, and he keeps petitioning her to use it to that end (she's a Coptic Christian, so she wouldn't believe that wishes are sinful) but she refuses. The reason is revealed later. Turns out she went through some horrible, horrible trauma around a wish, and doesn't want to use one as she's lived a full life and doesn't want to lose what she has. This one is more of an exploration of religion and tradition - it's key to Shokry's understanding of his faith that wishes are haram, but that's not necessarily the case with newer Muslim thinking on wishes. What is he to do when he sees the options as being between his friend dying but him keeping his soul, and his friend living but him being damned for it? The little inlets and nuances of moral lines being drawn are complex, and Mohamed treats them with the gravity that they deserve, but there is still a lot of lightness and love there.

So that's the three stories - time for some miscellaneous things! I love how Egyptian these stories are. I mean, I'm a white Brit, but I was really immersed in the culture and characters presented by the graphic novel, and it never felt like Baby's First Guide To Being Egyptian or anything, which is a nice bonus. It also explored different strata of Egyptian life and society, and I like that the translation took the approach of not translating certain words or ideas in the text, instead using the original word and telling us in a footnote what that is equivalent to in English. I liked the worldbuilding, with the little interstitials between chapters to explain how wishes work on a wider scale and how they've been integrated into law - it takes the heavier exposition load, allowing the story to then be more focused on the characters. And the art was stylish, a black and white semi-realistic style that had the ability to carry the more serious moments, but could be light and playful when needed. I really liked, too, how the art carried the tone of the different point-of-view characters - in Nour's story, for example, it got notably cartoonier and more ironic in order to convey Nour's more youthful outlook on the world. Overall, this is a fantastic book, and I couldn't recommend it enough. If you're lucky enough to get a copy, check it out!

Next, a young woman is abducted from her home…but why?

#Your Wish Is My Command #Deena Mohamed #bookblr #book blog #book blogger #5

[helloquotemyfoot]

Book Backlog Busting Reading Challenge!

A double update because uh... I honestly forgot that I hadn't updated last weekend until like, Wednesday. And I must start this update with a confession.

I bought a book.

But listen, it's a writing craft book, so it doesn't count, right?? Right!! Listen I'm trying to work on my writing okay I need this.

Anyway because it's been a hot minute I have quite a lot of books to update on.

The Dark Is Rising Sequence by Susan Cooper is now FINISHED (Greenwich, The Grey King, Silver on the Tree). I am pleased to say that the series really does hold up to an adult, apart from the first book which I spoke about last time. And I still cried at the end god damn it. Really recommend these if you want a charming British fantasy series that's not... you know... That One.

The King is Dead by Suzannah Lipscomb. FINISHED. This was even shorter than I thought it was so there wasn't a lot of detail in it by necessity. It was interesting to find out about Yet Another Whiggish Historical Conspiracy Theory (the tudors seem to attract these like nothing else) which I wasn't even actively aware of, but which the author handily disproves. That alone makes it a worthwhile book.

The Posthumous Papers of the Manuscripts Club by Christopher de Hamel. FINISHED. I didn't enjoy this book as much as his previous one, mainly because of fewer pretty book pictures, but it was still fascinating to see the history of manuscript making and collecting through the ages. Plus I teared up at a scene at the end when the author imagines all his figures getting to sit down to dinner together to discuss manuscripts. It was strangely wholesome. Books are just the best, okay.

The King's Bedpost by Mary Aston. FINISHED. Another one of those short, highly specific history books, this time about one specific painting. I read a bit of this in undergrad and was fascinated by it because the painting in question had been held up in my A-level class as an example of propaganda from Edward VI's reign, but Aston categorically proves that it cannot be Edwardian, but instead is Elizabethan, which completely changes the meaning of the painting. The book is about exploring what meaning the painting would have had to contemporaries and who it may have been made for. This had the opposite problem of The King Is Dead in that it was a bit too meandering and could have done with sticking closer to the point about the painting, as it became harder to follow the threads of the author's argument after several biographies and examples of use of Old Testament imagery in contemporary woodcuts. It was still a fascinating read nonetheless.

And for my next trick!

I mentioned before that I had some books on the Reformation to explore, and I have started on two of those, Reformation Divided by Eamon Duffy, and All Things Made New by Diarmaid MacCulloch. I'm a big fan of Duffy's work already and have seen MacCulloch lecture so I'm expecting both to be really interesting.

Fiction wise, I am still waiting on the next set of Wheel of Time books to arrive, so I've been entertaining myself recently with this lovely edition of The Wee-Free Men by Terry Pratchett (tragically, it looks like these editions are hard to come by so I won't be able to complete the set if I want the rest of the Tiffany Aching books).

Hopefully the next update will be more timely, but until then...

83 books remaining!

It went down less than expected because I added the writing craft book to the list. Fair is fair.

#book backlog busting reading challenge #bbb challenge #reading challenge #reading backlog #reading #books #the dark is rising sequence #history books #the tudors #english reformation

[wowbright]

Fic: Mismatch

Klaine Spring Fling: insidious

Words: ~2100 words

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Blaine wonders out loud if Kurt wishes he could go on a date with another guy.

This is part of my Mormon!Klaine universe. It takes place after Distractions, on the same evening.

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost. (More recent posts are in bold.)

––––

“You never cease to surprise me,” said Blaine as they arrived back at the apartment from English group. “Accepting concert tickets from Chandler Kiehl. So …” He searched for the perfect word, but couldn’t land on it. Well, the closest approximation of what he meant would have to do. “Unorthodox.”

“It's not a big deal,” said Elder Hummel. “We’re allowed to accept gifts from investigators within reason. And it's classical music, which classifies it as a cultural event. I'm sure President Steele will be fine with us attending.”

“Yeah, but we just did Georgiritt on Easter Monday. Wasn’t that a cultural event, too? And we only get one a month.”

“That was April. The concert’s in May.”

Blaine went over to the bookshelf and began putting away the Books of Mormon and pamphlets they hadn’t managed to place with new investigators. “Right. And I agree with you that President Steele will probably be fine with it. I’m just surprised you are. You always struck me as a bit to the right of President Steele when it came to rules.”

“It’s church, not politics.” Elder Hummel sat on the loveseat to unlace his shoes.

"Fair enough.” Blaine tucked his English-teaching resource book into its place on the shelf.  The group had gone well. Chandler had stayed, and Dolcezza and Harmonie showed up, and Samir and Nuriya stopped by for the second half. The conversation was so dynamic, Blaine had been able to set aside a thought that had begun niggling at him since Chandler's confession. But now, as he was winding down from the bike ride, it started up again, like fallen hair tickling the back of his neck.

“So,” Blaine started, glancing over to make sure Elder Hummel wasn't looking at him, and then carefully turning to face the bookshelf so the words would sound casual and spontaneous and, maybe, almost inconsequential. “You didn't seem too surprised when Chandler mentioned wanting to take you out on a date.”

“Are you surprised?” Elder Hummel slipped off his shoes and set them on the low rack next to the front door.

“That he's interested in dating you? No. But that he actually went out and bought concert tickets? Yes.”

“Well,” said Elder Hummel, disappearing around the corner into the bathroom, “He sort of mentioned it on Sunday. You know, when we were at the park.”

Blaine heard the creak of a pipe, followed by water flowing out of the bathroom faucet. He knew Elder Hummel wouldn't be able to hear anything he said over the running water. He wondered if this was Elder Hummel’s way of attempting to end the conversation.

Blaine looked inside his bag one last time to make sure no stray bits of literature were floating around in there. He lifted it onto his shoulder and walked to the bathroom door, leaning against the door frame to watch Elder Hummel splash his face three times before turning off the water. “He asked you out on Sunday?”

“Not exactly.” Elder Hummel grabbed his hand towel from his assigned hook and began patting himself dry.

“And you said—?”

“No, of course.”

“You could've told me, you know.”

“It didn't seem that important.”

“But it is important, right? How often do you get asked out by a guy who's super hot in gym shorts?”

“That's so superficial.” Elder Hummel replaced his towel on the hook. “Anyway, since I'm not going, why does it matter?”

Blaine looked down at the floor. He wasn't sure if he should say it. He wasn't even sure if he meant it. But he had the same feeling that he got when he felt prompted to go off script in a discussion with a challenging investigator. It was like the Holy Ghost was right at his shoulder, whispering into his ear what he should say. “If you want to go out with him, you can.”

For the first time since they had gotten home, Elder Hummel looked Blaine directly in the eye. “Don't be ridiculous. It's against the rules.” He walked past Blaine and out into the hallway.

Blaine followed him. “I know, but— If you want to, you can break the rules. I don't have to go to the concert with you. I mean, I'd like to, but— It was Chandler's idea. And he's the one who paid for them. And I'm sure you think I'll go to hell for suggesting this—”

“There is no hell.” Elder Hummel was standing in front of the bedroom mirror, aggressively removing his necktie.

“—but I'll cover for you. If you want to go out with Chandler. Because … Because you're important to me and I want you to be happy.”

“The church makes me happy.”

“I know, I just—”

Elder Hummel spun around. He glared at Blaine for a nanosecond before walking over to the dresser and folding his tie into a compact bundle and setting it away in its drawer. “And for the millionth time, Chandler doesn't. Not just because it's wrong and it breaks the mission rules, but because it's Chandler, OK? He’s nice. Sometimes he's even funny. And yes, I did flirt with him, but that's because I was being an idiot. Really, really, truly, I do not have any romantic interest in Chandler Kiehl. And it's very confusing to me that you went from hating him to wanting him to be my boyfriend.”

“I don’t want … It's just, you said he wasn't that stupid to think you might want to go on a date with him. So I thought—"

“It wasn’t stupid because we’re friends, and I like him as a friend, and sometimes people wish that their friends were interested in them as more than friends. But just because a person wishes for something with a friend doesn't mean their friend will feel the same way back. And that’s okay. It’s okay to have feelings that aren't reciprocated. It doesn't make you stupid. It just makes you human.”

Blaine's head spun. “Wait. I’m confused. Whose feelings in this scenario are unreciprocated?”

“Oh, for crying out loud. Chandler’s.” Elder Hummel slammed the drawer shut, the sound of wood-on-wood banging in time with Chandler’s name. “Not that it matters. I'm gay and I'm on a mission and I don't date. It's not like I didn't know what the rules were coming into this.”

“Right. But you didn't know what the rules were when you were born into the church, either.”

“Says the guy who thinks everything was already decided in the pre-existence.”

It seemed unfair for Elder Hummel to bring up their diverging beliefs about the pre-existence, but Blaine couldn’t put his finger on exactly why.“I never said that. I just said— I just said I knew you and I promised to look for you.”

Elder Hummel rolled his eyes and huffed. Blaine felt a twinge in his side. “And if that’s true, then what my seminary teacher said is true: We chose all the important people we would have in our lives. We chose our parents because we wanted to be born into the covenant. We wanted to grow up in righteousness.” He grabbed his pajamas out of the bottom drawer and headed back toward the bathroom.

“Maybe we chose our parents. Maybe not. But it’s not like we knew in the pre-existence who would become a Mormon and who wouldn't. I mean, that's the whole point of leaving the preexistence to get a physical body. So you can make your own choices, free of the influence of—" Blaine wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. They were back in the bathroom. Elder Hummel was facing the mirror, undoing the top buttons of his shirt.

“Can I maybe take my shower now?” Elder Hummel said, meeting Blaine’s eyes in the mirror. “By myself?”

* * *

Blaine wasn’t in the mood for a shower. Or for changing his clothes. Or for anything.

He hated when Elder Hummel got mad at him. It made him feel so small.

But unless he was going to sit on the loveseat and mope, or go over to Dani’s and bribe Stürmchen into cuddling with him, there was nothing to do but get ready for bed.

He changed out of his clothes and put a clean set of garments on. It was warm outside, and he would have been perfectly happy to go to sleep in just his underwear. But they still needed to pray together, so Blaine put on a pair of pajamas—the same pair he had worn his first night in Ingolstadt, navy with white piping around the edges.

He could still remember maybe the look on Elder Hummel’s face when he came into the bedroom that night and saw that their PJs were almost an exact match. His expression had been one of absolute delight.

Blaine had thought, back then, that they would be two peas in a pod. But they weren’t, were they? Blaine loved Elder Hummel with all his heart, but they weren’t the same.  They saw things so differently. Sometimes, those differences fit neatly together, like water in a cup. One was loose and flowing, the other hard and immutable. And yet, when they came together, they took on the same shape. They belonged together.

Other times, though, the edges didn’t match up, no matter how hard Blaine tried.

Blaine sat on his bed and opened his scriptures to a random section, closing his eyes and resting his finger on the page, the way his mother had taught him to when he needed guidance. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in the fourth chapter of Ecclesiastes. Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour.For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone?

The passage said nothing about fitting. It said nothing about ease. But still, it was better to share your life with someone else, to care for each other in any way you could. It was always good to love. Even if, right in this moment, it hurt.

Maybe the reason it hurt wasn’t the love part. Maybe it was Blaine—always trying to fix things, always wanting peace, never wanting disagreements to come between them. Maybe not wanting it to hurt was what made it hurt in the first place. Maybe Blaine was caught in an insidious cycle of fear leading to more fear.

But the scripture said two are better than one not because it kept anyone from falling; but because, if one or both of them fell, they could help each other up. If one or both of them was overwhelmed by the coldness of the world, they could make each other warm.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Elder Hummel said when he came into the bedroom. His hair was wet. His pajamas were unbleached linen. “I was short with you. I know you’re just trying to help.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Blaine said. “Maybe I try to help too much?”

Elder Hummel sat down on the edge of Blaine’s bed. “Sometimes.”

"You know I love you, right?”

“I know.” Elder Hummel sighed, as if that knowledge was a burden.

“Do you not want me to?”

Elder Hummel shook his head. “No. It's not that. It's just— Sometimes it hurts. I guess because I'm used to being on my own? Watching out for myself, you know? It's hard to explain.”

“You don't have to," Blaine said.

“I don’t know. I always thought I was a pretty self-confident person. I never thought I had any trouble seeing my own value. But it feels sometimes like you care more about me than I do. And I don't know what to do with that.”

Blaine reached for Elder Hummel’s hand. The ends of their sleeves touched, Blaine’s with its bright white piping, and Elder Hummel’s with its flaxen earthiness. The tones didn’t match, but they were pleasing together, all the same. “You don't have to do anything with that. I don't want to make you upset. I just want to be your friend. To lift you up, when I can. That's all.”

Elder Hummel gave Blaine a shy, sad smile. He laced his fingers with Blaine’s. “I'm sorry that sometimes I have a hard time accepting it.”

“You don't have to apologize. You’re the way you are for a reason. Maybe I shouldn't push so much.”

“Well, maybe.” Elder Hummel made a half shrug. His smile grew wider. A bit sly. “Or maybe it's good for me. I don't know.”

“Good. Because I know even less,” said Blaine. He felt a warm glow in his chest, much like the one he had felt at the Schönfeld’s piano. He squeezed Elder Hummel’s hand. “Let’s pray.”

#mormon!klaine #wowbright writes fic #klaine spring fling #Spring fling 2: Electric Boogaloo #klaine fic #my klaine spring fling #I accidentally skipped a word #i'll get it eventually