#except i forget the word for calendar and say a made-up word

[coquelicoq]

i still can't really have a conversation in french but i can read the french dictionary and i can translate 18th-century treatises on mollusks from french. that should count for something.

#-me to me after totally wiping out in conversation class #whatever!! i'm in conversation class to get better at conversation not because i'm already good at it! #<-repeating this to myself ten times a day #some of my classmates however. now those SOBs can converse. can they ever. you wouldn't believe #the conversations these assholes are having in front of me and trying to engage me in #such as 'where do you live?' and 'what do you do for exercise?' #and then i'm also supposed to think of questions to ask them. unfortunately when this happens i can't think of a single question #that has ever been posed in the history of human interaction #'do you like...uhhh...[sweating and eyes darting around] calendars?' #except i forget the word for calendar and say a made-up word #(this exact scenario has not occurred but in the broad strokes it is accurate and in the particulars it is only a matter of time) #every time someone asks me a question i want to say 'thanks for your question! you can expect a response in 2-3 business days.' #for some reason this is frowned upon however. #french

[thef1diary]

Little Big Blurbs

— Mr. Bear & Bearman

Saudi Arabian gp 2024, Bella meets Ollie.

Series Masterlist

wc: 1.8k

Based on these requests though I kinda changed parts of the plot, aka I forgot about the sky sports broadcast part until after I finished writing 🫣

It was the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix which was one of the hottest races on the calendar.

Since you had never gone to the country before, Max had warned you about the heat that this time of year would bring. For your daughter in particular, iced cold water in reusable bottles was one of the primary items you had stocked up on in preparation.

Although Isabella enjoyed summer, the humidity in Jeddah caused her hair to stick to her forehead, a sensation she rapidly grew aware of and disliked.

She was not a big fan of the sun blazing down on her, but still wanted to support Max. Even after he had suggested that both of you could join him for the next race in Australia, she didn't budge on her decision to watch the race in Jeddah. Isabella had made it clear that would choose to go to every race that she was able to, especially since it would give her an excuse to skip a few days of school before and after the weekend as well due to travelling.

Isabella was wearing an airy navy blue dress to show her support for her favourite team. She wore a cap with Max's driver number printed on it, as well as sunglasses to keep the sun from stinging her eyes. In addition, a small battery-powered fan rested on her shoulders to keep her cool all throughout the day.

Since Max was required to be in the garage hours before you and Isabella planned to arrive, you entered the paddock on race day with only your daughter.

You held her free hand while you walked further in the paddock, glancing at her a few times and chuckling at her choice of attire which was adorably cute for her age.

With her hand that wasn't held onto yours, she held her favourite teddy, Mr. Bear. Ever since she had retrieved it—or rather rescued it—from her father's house, she hasn't gone anywhere without it in fear of losing or forgetting it again.

Although you hadn't spotted Max, Isabella quickly waved at another driver decked out in a red Ferrari polo and blue baggy jeans—her second favourite driver.

Charles bursted into laughter when he first saw her, immediately commenting on the fan, "I want one."

Isabella tilted one of the two mini fans' direction towards him and he exaggerated a sigh of relief, finding her instant response to his words cute and told her that he appreciated her action. He turned it back towards her after a few moments, knowing that it was to prevent her from excessively sweating or even getting a possible heat stroke.

Then, he looked at you, "hey, why don't I show you around the Ferrari garage?"

You thought about it for a moment, never having been in any other garages except RedBull and RB. "I'm not too sure about that, you know, considering I'm with Max," you shrugged.

He chuckled, "you have no idea how many times he's come by, c'mon it won't take long." He extended his hand towards you but didn't grasp onto your hand, letting you know that you still had a say in the matter and that he would promptly end the conversation and accept your decision if you declined once more.

"Then, I will walk you to your lovesick boyfriend," he muttered quietly enough that Isabella didn't hear.

Dropping your mouth in faux offense, you lightly smacked his shoulder with your hand. "Lovesick? I saw him a few hours ago."

He shrugged, "few hours too long."

You briefly looked down at your daughter who was silently beaming and you knew that she would love a little tour of the Ferrari garage.

You playfully clasped your palm in his for a moment, making him chuckle, "okay then, show us around."

"Great, I can also introduce you to Ollie," Charles commented as he lead you towards the garage that showcased an enlarged version of the iconic prancing horse on the building.

Furrowing your brows, you asked, "who's Ollie?"

"He's a F2 driver, filling in for Carlos because of his illness," Charles briefly explained, pointing at another person who was wearing the same team gear as him.

"Right there." Charles called him over, and you noticed that the driver looked visibly younger than any other Formula 1 driver currently on the grid.

Unfortunately, right as Ollie was introduced to you and Isabella by Charles, the older Ferrari driver was pulled away by other team members that required his presence. "It's alright, he can show you around," Charles suggested.

With a sheepish smile on Ollie's face, he nodded, "I'll show you around, but I will say, I'm still learning everything myself,"

Exploring the garage, you noticed that one of the biggest differences was the colour of the items, other than that most of the things were similar in each garage. Where the Redbull garage was filled with navy blue, Ferrari was an infamous red. Despite being close to the Ferrari drivers, it had felt like you entered a different world since you were used to staying in the Redbull garage.

Your daughter quickly befriended Ollie, mainly since he wasn't immune to her antics and cute little pout. One question led to another and he was happily answering them all to the best of his ability. While most of their conversation was filled with laughter, you could also hear some bickering between them.

In the sea of red, you spotted a man wearing the rival team colours, and even though his back was turned to you, it was easy to tell that it was Max. While Charles had said that the other team drivers can come by the garage, he failed to mention that they would get stared at oddly because of the contrasting colours that made him stand out.

Once he turns around and spots you, he quickly makes his way towards you with the corner of his lips turning downwards. "Why are you here?" He asks, panting.

"Charles suggested a tour. Why are you out of breath?" You retorted. He bends over and rests his palms on his knees. "I looked for you everywhere, I thought you were coming straight to my garage."

He had initially checked his phone for a call or message from you since you weren't in his side of the garage, but the battery died. Max underestimated the amount of walking it would take to check the entire paddock to find you because he couldn't wait after putting his phone on charge.

You placed your palm over your mouth to hide your smile. "I was, but look there," you pointed at your daughter. She was currently carried by Ollie on his back while he showed her all the little details that would be too high up for her to see otherwise.

Max walked over to Ollie, slowly getting to know him better throughout the weekend. Max liked him a lot as the younger driver reminded him of himself when he was younger, albeit a little different but the passion to race was similar.

Although, Ollie didn't need to know that since the words leaving Max’s mouth contrasted his thoughts. "Show her all the red you want, but the only red she'll like is Redbull," Max tells Ollie, catching Isabella’s attention too.

“Maxy look, Ollie got me a bear!” She exclaimed, sliding off the younger driver’s back and holding up the teddy bear. There was a small version of the Ferrari cap stitched on to its head along with a Ferrari polo as well.

“Very nice, princess, did you say thank you?” He asked and earned a nod from the little girl. While she walked closer towards you, Ollie responded to the statement Max said.

"I don't know, maybe you'll have to ask her which red she prefers."

"Are you challenging me?" Max quips, raising his brows. Ollie shrugged nonchalantly, "maybe I am."

"I’ll have you know that I am very competitive," Max added, earning a sigh from you. "Max, are you seriously arguing with a kid, that too over Bella?"

He looked at you in disbelief, "he's trying to convince our Bella to like Ferrari over RedBull, he's brainwashing her."

"I don't know about which one I like better, but I will say that I’m also going to be supporting Ollie this race, since it's his first in F1.”

Max frowned at you, then looked at Ollie, "seriously? First my Bella and now my girlfriend too? Count your days."

The younger driver looked at you with concern visible in his eyes, “he’s not serious is he?”

You shook your head, “not at all,” but at the same time Max replied, “of course I am.”

You ignored your boyfriend’s words for a moment, placing a hand on Ollie’s shoulder. "Raising Isabella has just made him a bit more protective," you explained.

"You both have a beautiful daughter, but you don't have to worry about her here," he looked at Isabella who had interrupted Charles’ conversation with his engineer but neither men minded the intrusion.

You called your daughter over, not wanting her to be a disturbance in the garage especially on a busy day like today. Before you could respond to Ollie’s comment, Max beat you to it. "You’re driving for Ferrari, that is enough of a reason not to trust you.

“He’s joking,” you added to lighten the mood, especially since Max’s humour was not obvious to many people. Ollie on the other hand, added his own cheeky retort, "you trust Charles."

Isabella returned to your side and it was time to leave the garage since Max was probably needed at his garage too. Your daughter’s hands were occupied by two teddy bears, and you couldn’t help but ask, “what are you going to name it?”

“Bearman, after Ollie.” Her response caused a sigh to leave Max’s mouth but you chuckled looking at him. “Mr. Bear and Bearman, that’s nice.”

Isabella stopped in her tracks, “mama, can I watch the race from that garage?” She asked pointing to the Ferrari garage that you just began walking away from.

You looked at Max, expecting to see another frown on his face but seeing a smile instead. He shrugged, “if she wants.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, finding the difference in his mood concerning. “Yeah, Ollie’s a good kid.” His smiled revealed that he had no ill intent regarding Ollie, he was just a little overprotective over Isabella.

Isabella spent that qualifying day cheering on Ollie while sitting along with you and his family, who were already enamoured by the little girl as well. When he returned with a good starting position, especially considering it was his first ever race in Formula 1, he hugged Isabella just as tight as he hugged his father, already considering her like a little sister.

Little Big Blurb taglist (let me know if you want to be added): @keerysfreckles @d3kstar @xjval @hc-dutch @the-untamed-soul @multi-fandom-fan221b @lilymurphy03 @shreks-best-tits @nessacarty1 @ldynblack @lighttsoutlewis @ur-fave-ave @namjoonswaifu @llando4norris

#max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #little big fan fic #thef1diary fic #f1 fluff #fluff #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #ollie bearman fanfic #ollie bearman fluff

[sweet-dreams-internal-screams]

Anniversary💕

EthanxFemreader

Y’all are fiends💀 (it’s me I’m y’all)

Warnings⚠️ swearing mean/insecure!reader kinda, oral (fem receiving) dirty talk sub!ethan, praise

Ethan followed Y/N into her apartment as she stormed into her bedroom not saying a word to the curly haired boy. He grimaced as a shut the door behind him, still unsure of what he did wrong but by tension that filled the room as Y/N walked back in her Pjs Ethan didn’t want to know.

He tried to recall his day to the best of his abilities. He’d texted Y/N when he first woke up, gone to his classes for the day and then back to his dorm to hang with Chad. Ethan was stumped and he hated nothing more than to see her upset with him.

Y/n however was a silent as a rock, making little movements around her apartment. She had cleaned up out of frustration, not wanting to look Ethan in the eyes. She then stepped into the kitchen and made herself a bowl of popcorn and plopped onto the couch, turning on the television, still not acknowledging the boy.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” Ethan asked gently sitting close to her, he was in fear that she’d get up and leave but she stayed still focused on the TV as her arm extended out to the calendar on the wall, today’s date marked in a Purple Heart: 3 month anniversary w E.

Oh god

Ethan groaned at this sight knowing he’d forgotten the date they were planned to go on. He could almost kick himself as he turned back to Y/n, whose eyes were still glued to the screen. Ethan turned to face her and placed his hand on her knee. “It’s our anniversary.” “Sure is! How’d you know?” “Y/n, baby I’m so sorry it slipped my mind completely!” “That’s what every girl LOVES to hear Ethan!” She said rolling her eyes. Ethan sputtered out more apologies then Y/N turned to face him. “I’m not trying to be insecure but how am I not supposed to feel like that if you forget things like this? I really care about you and to not hear from you all day and because you forgot about something really important to me…E, it fucking sucks.” She said turning away from the boy. Ethan sighed as she stood and announced to was going to bed. Y/n walked into the bedroom and shut the door quietly. Ethan stuck his head in his hands as he stood, knowing he’d fucked up.

Y/n was opening up the blankets as Ethan walked in, he grabbed her hands and pulled her into a tight hug, holding her against his chest. “M’ so so sorry baby, there’s no excuse but I really am, I love you Y/n and never want you to feel like this ever again.” He murmured into her chest. Y/n looked up at him with softened gaze and nodded. “I love you baby I really do.” He said. Y/n stood on her tiptoes to reach the tall boy and softly pecked his lips. “I love you too Eth.” She said. Ethan wrapped his hands around her face and began placing longing kisses on her lips. His hands sliding down to her hips, gripping them tightly. He the hoisted Y/N up, as her legs wrapped around his midsection as they continued to kiss, slightly pulling on her lower lip to open her mouth up to him.

Ethan moaned ever so slightly as he kissed Y/n, backing up onto the bed he moved his hands onto Y/Ns ass as he attacked her neck, sucking on the patch right behind her ear, causing her hips to buck up into him. He continued to mark her until he turned so Y/N on the bed now and he was in front of her. “Please let me make it up to you baby.” He whispered, playing with the waistband of her pants. She nodded and began to remove her pants, earning a small push from Ethan as he did it himself, then using his teeth to remove her underwear. The cold hitting Y/N’s middle section as Ethan traced her body with a finger. He muttered small praises to her. Ethan trailed all they way right before the opening of Y/n stopping to hold her knees open. He then began to kiss and suck on her thighs leaving marks that would only be visible to someone with access to Y/Ns lower half, which no one did, except Ethan.

After his explicit teasing, which was not necessary in said situation, Ethan finally aligned his mouth with Y/n, sucking and licking lines as moans leave her lips. Keeping his eyes hooked on Y/n as he continues to rave across her, taking any opportunity to lick inside her. “M’sorry, m’so sorry my perfect girl, I love you, so pretty and wet for me baby.” He hummed into her as Y/Ns hips bucked into Ethan, his nose aligning with her clit. “Fuck Ethan!” She yelled, her legs locking around Ethan’s shoulders as she gripped the bedsheets in any attempt to hold onto her anticipation. Just as the familiar feeling started to burning in her stomach, Ethan slid two fingers into Y/n as he locked his lips onto her clit, flicking his tongue against her. Y/Ns back arched as her moans got louder and more aggressive mixed with pants, finally coming and falling back into the pile of pillows behind her.

“Fuck baby, forget our anniversary more often.” “Absolutely not, I’ll be gray and old and celebrate our 100th.” “If it makes you feel any better I forgive you.” “Im glad, but if I ever fuck up again, I’ll know what to do.”

Ethan kissed up her thighs again, reminiscing about the marks he’d left on her earlier while he licked up the mess he made on Y/n. He then went into her bathroom and let the faucet run while he wet a washcloth, returning to clean Y/n a bit more before sliding a new pair of underwear he’d gotten from her drawer. She stared at this boy who just looked back at her with the sweetest smile and soft eyes. Ethan the crawled up into bed spooning his girl.

“You’re telling me you’re not going feral right now?” “I never said that but tonight and tomorrow are about you baby.”

Ethan then rested his face in the crook of her neck wrapping his arms around her and falling asleep.

A/N: I’m so kind for releasing this early since it’s my birthday but here it is! Charlie will be out on Thursday and Chad on Next Tuesday !!

#ethan landry #scream 6 #ethan landry x reader #scream #scream 2023 #charlie walker #chad meeks martin #ethan landry smut

[astranite]

Rest

Fluff, Earth and Sky, plus Scott getting a nap. A.K.A Virgil gets Scott a weighted blanket.

EDIT!!! I used one of the Fluffember 2023 prompts in here but completely forgot to tag or mention that. Prompt is "Say: "Thank you for...""

A little inspired by the fic in where Virgil gets a weighted blanket (https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042224 Insomnia by chidoriXblossom), mine written because I think Scott would like one too. And we all know he needs more sleep. Plus soft furnishings!Scott!!!

Also- "This will be only like 500 words max," my muse lied.

So, another fic! Mostly was written on the bus on my phone, while wandering around the kitchen looking for something to eat yesterday, and on notes on my laptop when the Aussie internet and phone service met its untimely demise today.

@idontknowreallywhy With the last 2 paragraphs and hopefully less typos!! Hope you're feeling better too. SOFT FURNISHINGS!SCOTT!

-----

“Got you a present,” Virgil said, holding out a package wrapped in shiny blue paper. 

Scott took it without hesitation, utterly unprepared, because this was Virgil, not Gordon or Alan or any other trouble makers.

He staggered at the sudden, unexpected weight.  Scott kept fit for international rescue and lifted more than this on any given day, but dropped into his hands where Virgil made it look like nothing. Well, he nearly dropped it. 

Just as Virgil lunged to snatch it back from the bounds gravity, Scott  got a firmer grip on the package and hefted it up. 

Virgil stepped back, grinning, nearly as excited as the day they sent Two to space. “Open it, Scotty!”

Scott dutifully sat down on the couch with the package in his lap, slipping his fingers beneath the tape. 

“But why, why today?” Scott asked. 

It wasn’t Christmas. He determined it was not his birthday after quickly counting out what month was it anyway because he’d lost track with how busy he’d been lately. He wasn’t forgetting something else was he? Some important event that wasn’t in his calendar? Oh damn, was he supposed to have gotten his brothers presents too?

Virgil sat down by his side. 

“You’re alright Scott, no occasion. Present’s just because.” Virgil smiled. 

Scott bumped his shoulder against Virgil’s in a wordless act of affection. 

Then he turned to the shiny present he held, excitement bubbling up. 

What could it be? 

The package was soft, moving about fluidly within the paper, which would usually bring to mind something along the lines of an item of clothing. But whatever it was was far too heavy for that. Even allowing for thick denim or mission suit material, but Virgil wouldn’t wrap up a routine update, and that sort of engineering generally came under Brains’ department. 

With the strange slithery, many grains of sand running over each other noise it made whenever it shifted, at this point Scott would expect a prank, even from Virgil. 

Except that Virgil was right next to him, just as genuinely happy to be seeing him open the present as Scott was to receive it. Plus his brother was a frankly awful liar and trying to cover for it by, say, hiding his face in his hands while suspiciously giggling behind them had never worked once, for the record. 

So Scott shook the package vigorously, when Virgil didn’t stop him assuming it was non breakable, then gave up on the whole guessing game to get to the real deal. 

He tore the paper off with a grin, foregoing attempts to be neat about it because he just wanted to see what it was. 

Copious amounts of blue fabric poured into his lap. Heavy, weighted fabric, trying to slither to the floor as he grabbed at it and pulled it up. 

The thing was soft too, fluffy on one side and more fuzzy on the other, Scott discovered as he ran his hands over it. 

A quilted blanket of some kind, a big one too. Scott hefted it and spread it across himself and Virgil to lay it out so he could see it. 

It was— oh, “A weighted blanket?” he asked Virgil. 

Virgil nodded, smiling widely, “I thought you’d like one of your own, since you seem to like mine so much.”

That was true. Even on the last movie night when Virgil had brought out his own green, wonderfully soft monstrosity of a blanket that practically required an exosuit to lift, Scott had ended up sharing it with him. 

He never would have bought one for himself, he didn’t need it, but Virgil has seen and he had gotten him one. 

Scott threw his arms around his brother and whispered a heartfelt, “Thank you for— for everything,” into Virgil’s flannel. 

Virgil hugged him tight. “Glad you’re happy, Scooter.” 

Scott swallowed. “Yeah. I am.”

He stayed in the hug, letting himself lean on Virgil.

Eventually he pulled away, bumping his forehead with Virgil’s briefly in another thanks, before flopping backwards onto the sofa. 

He dragged the blanket over his body, snuggling down beneath it, to try it out properly. 

Virgil tugged the edges out straight, patting Scott on the leg where he’d slung them over Virgil’s lap to fit onto the couch. 

“‘M not moving ever again,” Scott mumbled. 

The blanket’s weight pressed down on him comfortingly, like the soothing pressure of a tight hug. The fabric was soft, fluffy and warm, but not too hot for their tropical island. It covered his feet even when he pulled it right up to his chin. 

Scott was in heaven. 

When he shut his eyes for a moment, letting the sensation sink in, Virgil snickered. “G’night, Scotty.”

Scott opened one eye to glare, then the other. He was not going to sleep. He was just getting comfortable, that was all.

He reluctantly removed one arm from beneath the blanket, wriggling his fingers towards Virgil. He could still work if Virgil would just pass him his tablet. 

Heaving a put upon sigh, Virgil reached for the side table and gave Scott his tablet, picking up his own sketch book. 

Scott opened his emails, hiding a smile. The blue eyes act still worked on his brother, evidently. 

Something, something, board meeting. Something, something, product development. He flicked a couple marked urgent open which weren’t even particularly important and shouldn’t have been flagged for him. He forwarded them on to be delegated to the correct people. 

Learning that he didn’t have to do absolutely everything had been a long process, and he was getting better at it. 

Scott continued through his bottomless inbox, so warm and comfortable he wasn’t even particularly annoyed with the uptight business people he had to deal with. Or at least he was minorly irritated as opposed to resisting the urge to throw his tablet across the room. He ran his free hand across the soft material, wound in the fluffy fabric while his other held his tablet. 

The blanket was working wonders. Quiet scratchings of pencil on real paper from Virgil did aid his calm somewhat too. But the weighted blanket was definitely going down in his favourite items of soft furnishings. Trust Virgil to have gotten it for him and gifted it just because. 

Scott’s blinks got slower and slower, and maybe he’d just rest his eyes for a moment, snuggled up on the couch with his brother and his new weighted blanket. 

Virgil looked up from his sketchbook at his brother. The permanently stressed crinkles between Scott’s brows were smoothed out, his face lax, his whole body a loose jumble of limbs instead of a wound up ball of tension. His arm arced gracelessly off the edge of the couch, tablet fallen on the floor beside it. His other hand was still gripping the blue blanket, hanging onto it even in his sleep. 

Because Scott was asleep. In the middle of the day, finally catching up on countless missed hours, even in the open lounge room, fast asleep with no signs of nightmares. 

A line of pencil on thick drawing paper, and Virgil begun to sketch Scott’s sleeping form, seeking to capture such a rare moment. He had no where to be, a mug of coffee beside him, and art supplies at hand so he was content. Plus he had his big brother close, legs still in Virgil’s lap, and no way he was moving to risk disturbing Scott, even if he wanted to, which he certainly didn’t.

Virgil smiled down at Scott, infinitely glad his present of a blue weighted blanket was comforting his brother and letting Scott get some much needed and well earned rest. 

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #thunderfluff #earth and sky #soft furnishings!scott #astrawrite #fluffember #fluffember2023

[georgiapeach30513]

Unfaithful, Part 1

Summary: married to Mike Weiss, but once a week you have lunch with Andy Barber, until it’s not enough

Pairings: Mike Weiss X Reader, Andy Barber X Reader

Rating:  explicit

Warnings:  dark, explicit language, mentions of drug use (needles), cheating, explicit sexual content, smut, bondage, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, kidnapping, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.5K

Series Masterlist

*divider created by @firefly-graphics​

You rub the back of your neck, taking a deep breath, and count to five before releasing it. Repeating this process over and over again. Thinking about last night, and just the draining life that you live. This isn’t how you thought it was going to be.

You never envisioned yourself where you are now.

Twisting you rings around your finger with your thumb, you start to take them off, before pausing, remembering happier and less complicated times.

You loved him, but that was the problem. The love had grown stale. It didn’t grow with your marriage, and therefore, you were drifting apart. If it wasn’t for the constant arguing, vile accusations, or those tell tell marks on his skin, it would be different.

Your husband had changed. The world he lived in had tainted his vision of your life. Spending more money than needed. Racking up bills because most his money went to his nasty habit. Refusing to even have sex with him, because you didn’t trust him.

He tried to reassure you that there were no other girls, and he wasn’t the common junkie. He didn’t share needles and they were always new. But too many nights left you in the bed alone. Days would pass before he would walk through the front door.

Bags under his eyes, blotchy skin, a constant sniffling, and you just said nothing. Refusing to start an argument because you were a shell of who you once were. Except for those weekly meetings. They were what kept you moving.

Mike looks at the calendar, noting the day before turns and jeers at you, “You got nothing to say because you’re going to meet with your precious Andy. The same Andy that couldn’t make the time of day for you that I did. You do know he’s married, too?”

You slam the fridge close, and start to walk out the door, but he catches your wrist. “You keep our secrets. You are my wife. Go have your fun. Fuck a married man, but you won’t fuck your husband.”

“I have never once cheated on you, Mike. You’re the one that is gone for days, and our cards are charged with cheap motels. What whore you got sleeping in the bed with you this week?”

“Well if my wife would lay down and take it the way a wife is supposed to,” you scowl at him, prying his fingers off of you. “Remind me to ask Andy how my wife’s pussy tastes when we’re in court tomorrow.”

“You’re disgusting,” you spit at him. Turning on your heels, you go to leave. Not caring to hear another word.

Placing your chin in your in your hand, you stare blankly at the door. Not really focusing on anything, just trying to forget the morning.

Andy walks into the cafe, his eyes scanning the area until he spots you. Nearly jogging over to you, before he pulls you up into a tight hug. You have never felt as loved or as safe as when you’re in his arms. And that terrifies you. Mike once made you feel that way. Now you hate the days he comes home.

Andy pulls you body back, and gives a regretful smile, “What did he do this time?” he asks, leading you both back to the table.

“I believe it was a ten days away. It keeps getting longer,” you drift your eyes to the table, and his hand moves to cover yours. You don’t have to tell him there’s more he just knows. “He accused me of having an affair.”

“Seriously?” Andy chuckles, shaking his head. “With who?” you lift your eyes to look at him, before sliding your own hand out from under his. “Oh…well…” he begins, reaching for your hand again.

Andy ever the careful one with his words, licks his lips slowly. His thumb starts making circles on the back of your hand, and even your own breathing picks up. “I wouldn’t say there’s nothing.”

“You’re very funny, Andy.”

“It’s just, every week. Every damn Thursday we meet, we talk, and we get very personal with our conversations,” he gives you a wicked grin and you roll your eyes.

“Admit it,” you shake your head no. “No? Have you never heard of an emotional affair? And we’ve got history.”

“Yep, you wanted to focus on your school and dumped me, then married Laurie two years later,” you cock up an eyebrow noticing how Andy never responds.

His fingers slowly trace the outline of his beard, and you clench your thighs together; remembering the times he would do that raising up from between your legs.

“I deserve that. It was the worst mistake of my life. By that time you and Mike were married, and I didn’t want to be alone,” he stifles out a laugh, his hand going to yours, and you had yet to quit playing with your rings.

Andy takes a quick gulp, removing his wedding band, and looks up at you, “Lets give them a reason to think we’re having an affair.”

“You’re crazy,” you reach to grab your purse. Andy was truly your love, but this…it can’t happen. It shouldn’t happen.

“No, no I’m not. Laurie thinks I’m cheating on her, too. Threatened a divorce last night, if I came here today. If I’m being accused of a sexual affair, I’d at least like to have sex. Wouldn’t you? Mike already assumes that we fuck every week. Makes snide comments while in court. Disrespecting you every time we’re alone, and I’m tired of it, Peanut. You deserve better. We…we deserve better, and you’ve always been my one. That’s why I can’t let you go. I won’t.”

“I always hate when you call me that.”

“You didn’t say no,” his dark blue eyes roll up to meet your own. Whispering your name, he goes to remove your rings, and you don’t argue. He slips them into his pocket, and watches you expectantly. “Where?”

“There’s a hotel down the road.”

“They’ll start asking about the charges.”

“I’ll do what Mike does, and deny it,” standing up, you hold out your hand for Andy to take, and he grips it firmly. Following you to the car. You don’t even feel guilty. This feels right.

Sitting at breakfast, alone again for the fourth day in a row. Your rings had been sitting on Mike’s bedside table for all of those days. You were tired. Tired of pretending to live this perfect life, when your husband couldn’t bother to come home.

When you go to clean up, a knock on the door, leads you to pause in confusion. No one ever comes here, everyone is tired of Mike’s shenanigans. Walking to the door, you stand their mouth agape, and tears already forming in your eyes.

Andy lifts up his left hand, showing you only a faint tan line, “I can’t do it. I filed yesterday. This past month has been everything I’ve always wanted, because it’s with you.”

“You have a case in two hours,” both Andy and Mike had told you such.

“Give me one,” he hums already walking through the door, slamming it shut he locks it behind you. His hand smooths down your side before you wrap your own around his neck.

Animalistic in your need to have him, your hands already pull off his jacket. Carefully trying to undo every button, as Andy backs you towards you bedroom. “Andy, no,” you pull back looking at him.

“When was the last time he slept in it?”

“Months ago,” he picks you up, slamming your body on the bed, before he’s ripping off your dress. His hands begin to knead your breasts, before he harshly removes your bra. Getting to your panties, Andy leisurely removes them, placing the drenched lace in his pocket. “Andy, you’re playing with fire.”

“I’m playing with what’s mine,” he groans, undoing his belt, he jerks it out, and quickly uses it to tie up your hands. “Should leave you like this, for Mike to find,” scowling at him, he chuckles. “Better not, he stays gone so long you might die of starvation before he returns.”

“Andy, shut up!” your legs go to spread, and he watches your drenched cunt leak out on the duvet, and moans. “You gonna leave me hanging?”

“Never,” finally removing his pants, he crawls over your body, and it’s almost cruel that you can’t run your fingers through his hair. Can’t bring those succulent lips closer to yours. And can’t even pull his hips closer to your weeping cunt.

Andy runs his tip through your glistening folds, almost laughing at how much every part of your body is begging for him. You look over to the clock, but he doesn’t stop. “Andy, please, baby, I need you.”

“Getting greedy, huh? Every fucking day for over a month. You need it so bad don’t you?” you anxiously nod your head, and he pushes the tip through your entrance. You moan at the severe stretch, but then grunt when he doesn’t push through.

“You have become my needy little girl haven’t you?” with a single whispered yes, he pushes through an inch more. “You never stopped did you?”

“No.”

“Say it,” he almost screams, needing a vocal confirmation. “Tell me.”

“I love you.”

He pushes in a bit more, “Do you regret what we’re doing?”

“No.”

“I love you, too,” his voice thick and hungry as he slides his remaining length all the way through. Bottoming out, and your back arches, wrapping your legs around him, you hold him there. “What do you want?”

“You. It’s always been you. That’s why…I couldn’t let you go,” your voice soft, but sure.

His mouth crashes into yours with as much fervor as his hips as he thrusts into you harshly. Pulling in and out of your squelching heat. Both of your mouths swallowing the other’s sweet sounds, and you have never felt better.

Your skin heats up and becomes raw from his beard, but you don’t care. The only thing you care about is Andy. Every inch of his skin on you. Every bit of him stretching you out deliciously. His pounding pace hurting so good, as your juices soak the bed. Giving him his sick need for a job well done.

No one has ever done it better than Andy. No one has ever made you sob out their name like he does. And no one has ever made you feel so raw and loved. He was perfect. And he was yours.

Andy pushes into you with such force, your body becomes limp. Pliant to the man, and you blink away stars that cover his beautiful sculpted body. Your body aching for the need to fill you up.

Your walls start to flutter around him, and he only drives into you faster. Jack hammering into you like it was his job, and Andy always takes his job seriously.

Your legs clench around his waist, much like your cunt clenches around his girthy length. Breathily whispering his name like a prayer. With a few more staccatoed stabs into your abused hole, the two of you cum together, and Andy collapses on top of you.

His hands reach behind you as he undoes his belt, and your arms fall on his back. Running your hands up and down his freckled and sticky skin. “I’ll keep doing this until it sticks. I’ve filed for your divorce along mine. Laurie signed a prenup, but you want nothing from him.”

“There’s nothing to have.”

“Good. You’re mine. And I won’t have him touching what belongs to me.”

Andy smirks at Mike as he walks out of his office. Starting to head to the courtroom, but Mike let’s out a grumbled, “How did she feel this morning?”

“Excuse me?” Andy asks turning back around to glare at Mike.

He holds up the divorce papers he was served, shoving it into Andy’s chest, “I knew it was only a matter of time before you tainted her view on me.”

Swiftly Andy jerks up Mike’s shirt revealing the track marks, “I think you did that all on your own.”

“I wasn’t like this before her. She’s been cheating on me for years. She can’t stay away from you. Home wrecker. How. Did. She. Feel?” Mike flips around his phone, revealing the compromising position you and Andy were in this morning. “Trying to knock my wife up, Barber? Just wait until I get home, I’ll fucking have my wife.”

Andy grabs Mike’s shirt by the collar, shoving him up against the wall. Pulling him forward, he slams him back, but Mike only laughs manically. “You won’t see her again.”

“Won’t I?”

After waking up in a stupor with Mike sinisterly smiling over you, he points out the hidden camera. Yours and Andy’s love making on display on the television. “I thought you said you didn’t fuck him. Should have known you little slut. I love you, and I have a little surprise for you.”

You gulp as Mike all but drags you down the stairs to the basement. Time feeling off as it moves quickly but also painfully slow. He shoves you on the floor, slamming a new door closed. Looking up, you see his beautiful face bloody and bruised. His arms bound behind him, and a gag over his mouth, but that doesn’t stop Andy from mumbling expletives at Mike.

“You wanted him. There he is. You’re not going anywhere, and neither will he. I brought you, you’re own little plaything, honey,” you turn to look at him with your tear streaked face and shake your head.

“I thought you’d be happy. You have everything you ever wanted. That is if my junkie ass doesn’t stay gone too long,” he sneers at you, and presses his hand over your stomach.

“He wanted it to take, did it?”

“Mike, let him go. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please, let him go.”

“Aw, Honey, it’s not that easy. Oop,” he gleefully screeches out when your phone rings. “Looks like Laurie is calling you. Should I tell her I caught you two? Tell her what a fucking whore you are? Have fun playing house, while I play the distraught husband because my wife ran off and left me with her best friend. Laurie knows. She’s already told me her suspicions. That’s the only reason that I started asking. Laurie knew first.”

He walks to the door, slamming it shut, and you hear a thick lock go into place.

Rushing over to Andy, you jerk down his gag, and move to his hands. Once free, you cling to each other. His mouth kissing all over your head.

“I’m so sorry Peanut. He knew, he-he…”

“I saw it. Andy what’re we gonna do?”

“I don’t know.”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @thedarkplume @duuhrayliegh @rebekahdawkins @johndeaconshands @harrysthiccthighss

#mike weiss #mike weiss x reader #dark!mike weiss #dark!mike Weiss x reader #andy barber #andy barber x reader #cheating fic #dark fic #Chris evans #chris Evans character #mike weiss fanfiction #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber smut

[neyswxrld]

love languages

Cody x gn!reader

summary: Buying Christmas presents with Cody!

warnings: reader has self doubts, discussions about love and feelings

word count: ~1380

advent calendar masterlist

a/n: this is the fifteenth fic for my advent calendar!

"Okay. So, I need some stuff for my mother and brother. And I have something for Rex in mind, too, that I should buy today. I still feel so bad about last year. And you wanted to buy stuff for my mother too, and don't forget Rex. And you mentioned-,"

"Stop, stop, Cyare. Everything's okay. I know who I want to buy stuff for, and I'm absolutely sure you won't forget anyone this time," Cody assures you, putting an arm around your waist.

"Urgh, I know. But you told me that last year too, and I still forgot about Rex. He made me such a cool present, and I just then realized that I have nothing for him," you explain again.

Cody and you have had that conversation at least five times since it "happened". And, in the end, nothing has happened, and he was right:

"But you just forgot to really buy him his present. You got it for him afterward, and even if you didn't, he wouldn't have blamed you or taken offense by that," he says, just as always.

"I know, I know. I still feel bad," you sigh. Cody laughs and presses a soft kiss against your temple.

"I'll ask you about all the presents before we go home. Okay?" he suggests, and you bite your lip for a few seconds, thinking about his offer, before you nod. "Okay."

You grab a shopping cart and walk into the store. Together, you walk through different aisles and pick out one present after another. For your mother, you'll get that nice kitchen gadget she goes into raptures about in front of you. Your brother will get some warm socks and a fancy book. You buy different things for your other friends, and you help Cody pick out some suitable presents for his brothers. In the end, you have a present for everyone... except-

"Rex?" Cody tests you, and you freeze in your tracks.

"Oh no! I forgot about him again! How can that happen all the time?" you ask, a little bit too desperate, and sigh before scratching your head.

"Hey, at least we're still here. You can still get him that present," Cody tries to cheer you up a bit, but it doesn't do that much for your dampened mood.

"I'm so sorry, Cody. I forget about him all the time," you say sadly, grabbing his hand again.

"Hey, it's okay. You thought about him regarding that in the first place. And as I said, he wouldn't even mind if you wouldn't give him a present at all," he tells you again, holding up his hand and stroking over your cheek carefully.

Sadly, you let your shoulders sink and look him in the eyes.

"I know that he wouldn't mind," you say quietly. "It... It isn't about Rex."

"Then what is it about?" he asks, still looking into your eyes carefully.

"I-I just... It's... It's about you," you admit. Cody raises his eyebrows in confusion. "Me?"

Suddenly, everything bursts out of you.

"You're such a great boyfriend, Cody. You remember everything about me and you know all my friends by their names. You know important things, like our anniversary or what I'm allergic to. But at the same time, you even remember the smallest, silliest things. What my favorite color is. What my first dog's name was. And that flatters me. It makes me giddy and happy, and every time I notice that you thought about something like that again, I think I fall in love with you even more," you begin, only stopping when Cody grabs your wrist and pulls you out of the crowd and to a small, quiet bench in the store.

You sit down, and Cody takes your hand again, listening to you intently and looking at you. All his attention lies on you, and you feel how there's a quiet voice in your head, whispering. "You're not good enough for him."

"I... I don't remember any of that. Hell, I'm lucky if my phone sends me a message about important dates. It took me so long to tell your brothers apart. I also just know that Rex is coming for Christmas for sure. He's your favorite brother, of course he's with you, or us. And I really don't mind that - in contrast. The more people we are, the happier I am, especially when they're people who are important to you. But it's just like... I want to give Rex presents to show you that I... That I think about him too. That I know what is important to you. But instead, I just keep forgetting. I feel like such a bad partner. Like I'm not enough. You deserve someone who is able to really show you how appreciated you are and how much you mean to them, and how much they care for you. I just-"

Cody interrupts you carefully.

"Hey, Cyare. Everything's okay. I know how much you care. Stop telling yourself you're not enough or that you don't show enough love. That's not true. You're such a caring and loving person. You don't forget as many things as you think. Besides, forgetting about stuff doesn't mean that you don't care," he starts, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side.

"But-," you start, but he doesn't let you talk yourself down again.

"No, listen to me. Who's the one that waits for me every time I come home from a long campaign?" he asks. You don't give a real answer, just stare at him with teary eyes.

"Who's the one to make me my favorite food? Who's the one surprising me with small, sweet gifts throughout our time together? Who's the one who sends me goodnight kisses and answers with morning kisses? Who's the one bringing me to 79s on a regular basis, telling me to have fun and relax a little bit with my brothers? Who's the one who, at the same time, really understands when I just want a quiet evening with some cuddles and a good movie?" he starts to list a few things, pulling you closer with each question. "It's you, Cyare. Do you hear me? It's you," he whispers in the end. Slowly, your eyes start to release some tears, making your cheeks wet.

But instead of crying out of self-doubt or out of fear of not being good enough, you're crying because no one ever touched you like that with their words.

"Those are just a few things that are on my mind at the moment. If you wanted a list with everything about what shows me how much you care, you would need a lot of time and a huge battery on your pad, because I'd still be sitting here in a few days, writing down every single thing about how you show me your love," he sighs quietly, brushing his hand through your hair.

"Our love languages may be different, but that doesn't mean that one of us cares less about the other. Don't think you're not good enough for me ever again," he whispers, placing a small kiss on your temple.

You nod a single time, feeling a little bit relieved.

"Go on, say it," he calls upon you.

"I-I... I'm good enough, a-and I'm showing you how m-much I care," you whisper with a shaky voice.

Cody nods in approval before starting to dry your face a little bit.

You keep sitting on the quiet bench in the store for a while. While you quietly talk to Cody and put your head on his shoulder while you calm down, you repeat that little phrase over and over in your head. You're good enough. You show Cody how much you care. Cody knows how much you love him.

When you're finally calm and the tears are dry again, Cody stands up and reaches out his hand to help you up.

"Now, do you still want to buy that present for my favorite brother, or have you decided otherwise?" he asked, a mocking undertone in his voice. 

"Let's get him that present!" you nod before you take your boyfriend's hand and start to walk through the store again, trying to find the last thing on your list.

TAGLIST:

@isthereanechoinhere96 @trixie2023 @freesia-writes

#commander cody x reader #cody x reader #clone commander cody #commander cody #tcw cody x reader #cody x you #commander cody x you #star wars #starwars the clone wars #the clone wars fanfiction #the clone wars #presents #all i want for christmas advent calendar #star wars advent calendar #tcw advent calendar

[pvnkfangirl]

THE FINAL STRAW

SKZ masterlist

pairing: idol! Changbin x y/n

summary: Your parents never approved of Changbin. You wanted to believe it was because they hadn’t meet him yet so when you’re parents come to town, you plan a dinner. What could possibly go wrong?

Tonight had to be perfect. You had planned the night to a T, from what would be served to buying new plates for the occasion. Changbin’s schedule was always changing and you understood that, which was why you made sure to remind him every day leading up to the dinner. He had missed important moments before but he just couldn’t forget tonight.

Your parents only wanted the best for you and they believed Changbin wasn’t it. He was an idol and to them that meant that Changbin would never be able to give you the time and attention you deserved. Your parents hated his lifestyle, or more so what it would allow him to get away with. Why settle down when he had millions of fans, who he could cheat on you with.

No matter how much you defended him, your parents never excepted that Changbin was who you loved. A part of you always hoped that your parents meeting Changbin would change their mind.

As you set the table, the door bell rung. You fixed your hair and adjusted your dress before going to open the door. After greeting your parents you stepped aside to let them in. “So where this boyfriend of yours?” Your mom asked.

“He’s at the studio, he should be here any minute.”

Any minute, quickly turned into an hour. You had called and texted. You couldn’t even look at your parents but you could feel them staring. Your mom with sadness and your dad with glare that said he had warned you.

Two hours.

The food was cold at this point. “Honey. We should be on our way. Your dad has work in the morning.” You hugged your mom and as you went to hug your dad he said, “Let this be a reminder why he’s not good enough for you. This dinner was important to you and he didn’t even call to say he running late. You deserve so much more then this. I need you to understand that.” Your dad kissed your forehead and followed your mom out the door.

Four hours and still nothing from Changbin. Tears were now running down your face. You’d completely lost your appetite at this point so you had start to clean up the table. As you placed the plates in the sink you heard the front door open. “Babe I am home.”

You didn’t answer. “Baby, where are you?” Again you didn’t answer, you weren’t sure if it was because you couldn’t find it in yourself to pretend you were okay or if it was just the fact you couldn’t find the words. He stepped into the kitchen, “There you are! How was your day?” Changbin asked as he went to hug you but you stepped away. Confused he raised a brow, “Is everything okay?”

“Seriously Binnie! How was my day? You really want to know well I’ll tell you. Today was a very important day for me, and my boyfriend showed up four hours late to meet my parents.”

His face fell, “No baby I wouldn’t forget something that important. I put it in my calendar.” Changbin pulled out his phone going through his calendar. “It doesn’t matter because you weren’t here Changbin. You know how my parents feel about you. All I needed was one night, one night to prove to them that their wrong but instead you proved them right. You wanna the worst part?”You paused as you took a deep breath, “I am starting to think their right.”

“Y/N” he pleaded as his eyes filled with tears

“I cant do this anymore, Changbin. You know how important it is to me for my family to like you. They mean the world to me, I thought you understood that. I think we need some space.”

Changbin shook his head, “We can reschedule babe. We can make this work.”

“I can’t risk you not showing up again. I am going to be staying with my sister for a few days. I have somethings to think about.”

#stray kids #seo changbin imagines #changbin #seo changbin #skz changbin #skz angst

[lucky-clover-gazette]

one for the books

modern bookseller au • 4250 words • teen

this is my second and final entry for the 2022 @fsadventanthology! look out for more amazing art and writing from the fandom throughout the month of december. a special thank you to @vagueandominousvibes for organizing this event and accommodating my panicked pms as i completely switched ideas at the last second.

"It began with strictly customer-employee interactions—Mystery Guy asked Vio if he knew any good books about dragons, and Vio asked if he was looking for something more Middle Earth or middle grade (the answer was both). The first actual purchase the guy made was a TJ Klune book—Vio forgets which one—accompanied by an experimental and exceedingly gory graphic novel. It was around the two-week mark that Vio noticed he never asked Green, or Blue, or even Red for recommendations or small talk. This idiot identified the most antisocial employee of the bunch and decided yeah, this is the one I’ll tell all about my middle school Warrior Cats phase."

read it on ao3 or under the cut:

Not even the independent bookstore is immune to shitty corporate Christmas radio. 

For eighty-five percent of the calendar year, Vio and his coworkers are allowed to play their own music at a reasonable volume. The store manager is surprisingly flexible in the music she allows in the store—while Green’s lo-fi video game soundtracks and Vio’s classical music fit the whole bookshop vibe well enough, Blue’s fixation with 2000’s pop-punk isn’t nearly as appropriate. But still, Zelda lets him play it, and when it’s really dead she’ll even give Red the aux, even though his preferred tracks rarely come without an explicit content warning. 

That exact kind of freedom is easily the best part of Vio’s job, really distinguishing the Bookseller Experience™ from other retail positions he’s held in the past. Here he’s encouraged to offer personal recommendations to customers, and write shelf talkers for his favorite books, and curate perfect playlists for long seven-hour shifts. He’s still working, and it’s still retail, but sharing his oldest and deepest passion with every stranger who happens to walk through the doorway never fails to feel special. 

Except, apparently, during the months of November and December. Can he put up a uniquely themed display of underappreciated novels? Nope, every surface is reserved for bestsellers and regional gift guide selections. Can he play his own music? Not when customers can be so easily lulled into purchasing special hardcover editions by the crooning voice of Bing Crosby. 

This entire holiday season, there have been two Grinches in the bookstore—one on the designated Seuss shelf, and the other behind the counter. Vio stands there now, absolutely miserable in a purple sweater and his well-worn scrunchie, counting down the seconds until he finally can close up shop. 

“Got any fun plans?” asks Red, his only other coworker at the moment. Zelda and Green are off visiting Green’s dad a few towns away, and Blue took the day off to do some last-minute shopping. Vio, meanwhile, hadn’t even considered taking off Christmas Eve. It’s not like he’s getting holiday pay or anything, but it’s better than sitting around alone in his apartment. This is the first time in his life that he won’t be able to make it home for the holidays—thanks, retail—and he’s putting on a brave face about it, but… 

“I’m fine,” Vio says, tearing apart a post-it note in his chapped hands. He watches the snow fall through the show window, equally charmed and inconvenienced in anticipation of his walk home. 

“I didn’t ask if you were fine,” Red said, completely genuine and even a bit concerned. “I’d ask if you’re okay based on that answer, but, well, y’know.” 

“Sorry,” Vio says, shoving the shreds of paper into his pocket. He regrets wasting it with his idle fidgeting, too ashamed to relinquish it to the recycling bin. 

 Red stares at him with a placating smile. “Actually, can you do me a favor?” 

Vio raises an eyebrow, the yes implied. 

“Wrap my gift for Blue, please,” Red says, grabbing a softcover book from the staff hold shelf. He’s been obscuring it for a week with a poster for the newest Louise Penny mystery, out of his fiancee’s sight and mind. 

Jesus Christ. Red is only a year older than Vio, and he already has a fiancee. 

“Special order?” Vio asks, admittedly pleased by Red’s request. Vio is, hands-down, the best gift-wrapper among the bookstore’s staff. He takes every opportunity to go to his little corner and do his little process and curl his pretty little bow and incidentally avoid actually interacting with the customers themselves. Very few things can fully get Vio in the holiday spirit, but give him a stack of six hardcovers and a fresh roll of non-denominational colored ribbon and he’s Mariah fucking Carey. 

“Yeah, and it got here just in time!” He hands the book to Vio, who takes a second to examine. It’s a manga—no surprise there, Blue’s the go-to guy for that section—with some vaguely gay shit on the cover that they’d probably display in June. 

“It was on backorder for so long,” Red explains as Vio begins his meticulous wrapping process. “He still thinks it is, with the supply chain, so I know this’ll totally blow his mind.” 

“Do you think he got you a book too?” Vio creases the white-and-gold wrapping paper and reaches for the tape dispenser labeled ‘FOR GIFT WRAPPING DO NOT MOVE.’

“Maybe! Probably! We do get a 30% discount, so it’d be silly not to do gift shopping here.” 

Vio knows all about that. He had shipped his parents’ gifts last week, hand-wrapped of course, with a little note that he tried not to make too melancholy. Otherwise, he wasn’t really on the hook for gift-giving or receiving. All of his college friends had left town after graduation, and most of them are working retail as well. 

“Thanks,” Vio says, his voice softer than he’s allowed it to be all day. He’s been stuck for hours in this mental place between ‘Christmas Eve means nothing to me because I’m alone,’ and ‘oh my god it’s Christmas Eve and I’m alone.’ 

“Thanks for what?” Red asks, passing Vio the blue spool. Vio measures it with expert concentration and begins the exhilarating process of ribbonification (not a technical term). 

“For asking me to do this,” Vio says as he uses a pair of scissors to curl a little bow. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bummer all day, I know you probably don’t want to be here either.” 

Red shrugs. “I really don’t mind, but I appreciate your saying so. I know it’s your first Christmas alone. I’d invite you to join me and Blue, but you don’t seem like the third wheel type.” 

“No, I am not. And besides, you guys deserve a cozy romantic night together.”

“And you act like you’re so above Christmas stuff,” Red teases as Vio hands him the wrapped gift. “I bet you’d love to be all cuddled up with some cute guy by a fire.” 

“Shut up,” Vio says, hiding his face behind his hand. Really? Is that all it takes to make his blush? Apparently so, and he hates it. 

“I mean,” Red says, suddenly serious, “there is that guy. You know, the one who’s been coming in specifically to antagonize you for over two months.” 

“He’s a customer,” Vio says, although of course he knows exactly what Red is suggesting. “He’s here for books, and I think he works down the street so it makes sense that he’d stop by often.” 

“He must have been working a lot these past few weeks, then, and only on the exact days that you happen to have shifts.” 

Vio didn’t know that part of it, and he’s sure his expression tells Red just as much. He still won’t take the bait, though, because the situation Red is suggesting simply isn’t something that would happen in real life. In a contemporary romance novel, sure, or a fanfic—but not in the real world, with an annoyingly handsome purple-haired enigma who can’t possibly be younger than twenty or older than twenty-five. 

Not that Vio’s speculated  about his age or anything, because that would be super weird. Even weirder would be for a service employee to hit on a customer, or vice-versa, so the age thing doesn’t even matter in the first place. There are just too many power imbalances at play between them, and so many unknowns, like the guy’s name and job and if he even likes men, or Vio specifically, because what a weird assumption to make based on vague flirtation— 

“Okay, so you’re freaking out,” Red says, shaking Vio out of his… whatever that was. “And you’re shredding the wrapping paper.” 

Vio looks down at his hands and groans. Dammit, again?

“Hey,” Red tries to calm Vio as he steps back from the counter. “Just try to relax. I’m sorry for teasing, I promise I don’t know anything more than you do. We’ve all just noticed, over the holiday season, that this guy seems particularly interested in your mystery book display, and, well, you. It’s sweet. We like when he comes in. We like seeing you happy.”

“That asshole doesn’t make me happy,” Vio argues, glancing over at the shop’s single current creative display. He’d adapted the idea from a popular Valentine’s Day tradition—blind date with a book—and the mystery titles, only described with a few selling points, have been selling surprisingly well. Customers seem to enjoy Vio’s bullet-point lists, giving them a clue right on the wrapping paper as to which books would be best suited for their loved ones. And Vio enjoys writing the short descriptions, especially for lesser-known books with particularly unfortunate cover designs. It’s a great little project, and in a lot of ways has gotten him through the sales season—except, there’s been one hitch.  

Back in November, right around the time Vio had launched his new display concept, this random guy just started showing up to the store a few times a week. This isn’t abnormal customer behavior—every store has its regulars, after all—but this person in particular had uniquely annoyed Vio from the start. He’d just wander around the shop for like twenty minutes at a time, browsing every section in his stupid jacket with the stupid pins and stomping his stupid Docs on the carpet Vio had just vacuumed the night before, and forget the fifty-something customers who walked on the carpet before him, it’s always this person specifically who Vio resents for the mess. 

And then the guy started talking to Vio. 

It began with strictly customer-employee interactions—Mystery Guy asked Vio if he knew any good books about dragons, and Vio asked if he was looking for something more Middle Earth or middle grade (the answer was both). The first actual purchase the guy made was a TJ Klune book—Vio forgets which one—accompanied by an experimental and exceedingly gory graphic novel. It was around the two-week mark that Vio noticed he never asked Green, or Blue, or even Red for recommendations or small talk. This idiot identified the most antisocial employee of the bunch and decided yeah, this is the one I’ll tell all about my middle school Warrior Cats phase.

Once the display went out for the real holiday season, Mystery Guy had immediately gravitated towards it. He began to spend his entire visit poring over Vio’s descriptions, using what Vio assumes is prior knowledge and only sometimes the internet to make an educated guess.  And every single time he’s visited since, he’s been able to clock at least three of Vio’s newly-added titles without fail. 

Of course this nerdy game of cat-and-mouse has escalated over the past month, with Vio writing increasingly vague descriptions of the most obscure titles he can find. But Mystery Guy is apparently a fucking psychic, because he still manages to pin Vio down more often than not. He seems to enjoy messing with Vio, sometimes pretending to be clueless before pulling the title out of nowhere at the last second. Vio wonders how many tabs he has open in Safari, exclusively to search up niche books based on Vio’s descriptions. He kind of hopes it’s enough to crash the phone. 

Vio has tried every genre on the shelf to stump this scourge of a customer—poetry, history, cookbooks, and most recently even romance, which is like his least favorite literary genre ever! He had to resort to fucking Goodreads to distinguish between these generic-ass books, each with a cover so uninspired it looks like it was designed using Canva in under eight minutes. It’s like every romance novel published after 2020 is a variation of one or more of exactly three premises—fake-dating, enemies to lovers but not really enemies, like they’re owners of rival bakeries or something, and/or Capital-H Horny. And because of the literal creature of darkness haunting his display, Vio has been forced to immerse himself in the world of trendy romantic fiction just to get ahead. The next time Mystery Guy visits the store, Vio will either finally outsmart him or literally tear him limb from limb.

He’ll have to wait for the new year for his victory, though. Undoubtedly Mystery Guy has better things to do on Christmas Eve than harass Vio. He probably has a partner, just like everyone else Vio knows, because cuffing season is real and people are desperate. Meanwhile, it’s like any potential suitor of Vio’s has to pass an entire emotional obstacle course to even be allowed to hold his hand, and there’s nothing Vio can tell his brain or body to make that less of a fucking problem. Him, cuddling someone in front of a fire like he’s in some lonely gay idiot’s cottagecore AU? Would admittedly be lovely, but not going to happen any time soon. 

The sound of the store bell startles Vio to attention, and for just a second his heart lifts. But it’s just Blue out there, all bundled up in a parka and badly hiding a bouquet of roses behind his back. 

“Oh, he didn’t,” Red says, already running to the door. He lets Blue in and envelopes him a hug, only groaning slightly when he makes contact with the thorns. 

“Hi,” Blue says, passing Red the flowers and giving him a quick kiss. He cranes his head towards Vio, who just stands behind the counter like a moron. “Hey, Vio. Merry Christmas Eve.” 

“You too.”

“What time is it?” Blue asks Red, although Vio’s the one in front of the computer. 

“6:55,” Vio says. “If you want to take off, I can handle closing on my own.” 

“Are you sure?” Red asks, his eyes sparkling as he already begins to pack up his things. 

Vio nods. “I’m sure. It’s my gift to you.” 

“Thanks, Vio,” Red says, clearly wanting to give him a hug but also aware of Vio’s prickly reactions in the past. 

“Don’t forget the book,” Vio reminds him, nodding to the wrapped manga. 

“What book?” Blue calls from the entryway as Red shoves it in his large reusable tote bag. 

“You’ll find out later!”

It takes Red no time l to vacate the store, arm-in-arm with Blue, leaving Vio behind to wait out the last four minutes he’s required to keep the door unlocked. There’s no way a customer would come in this close to 7, not on Christmas Eve, not—

“Hey, Vio,” says a gut-wrenchingly familiar voice, somehow reaching his ears before the bell above the door. Mystery Guy leans in the doorframe, arriving with a freezing gust of air as he shoots Vio a grin. “Looks like you’re about to close, my bad.” 

Vio rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re letting in the snow. You’ve got three minutes.” 

Mystery Guy raises his eyebrows in genuine surprise, as if he hadn’t expected to get this far. He wears the same heavy black jacket as usual, with the pins Vio has never been close enough to make out, and wouldn’t you know it, his Docs are caked with snow and dirty rock salt. He steps fully inside and shuts the door behind him, matching Vio’s semi-defensive pose. 

“Can I help you?” Vio asks, picking up a post-it note and immediately putting it back down. 

“Maybe,” says Mystery Guy, walking over to Vio’s mystery book display. “Looking for a last-minute gift for someone. Wasn’t sure if I was gonna have the guts to make a move until like ten minutes ago.” 

“Girlfriend?” Vio asks, putting a hand on his hip. Mystery Guy shakes his head. “Boyfriend?” 

“Not sure yet.” 

It has to be the stupid romance books giving Vio brainrot, making him think what he thinks must be happening. 

“Well, what does this… person… like to read about?” 

Mystery Guy considers. “It seems like a little bit of everything. He has pretty varied interests. They can get kinda niche, honestly.” 

“How niche.” 

Mystery Guy picks up one of Shadow’s newly-added books, weighs it in his hands, and scans the description Vio wrote. “Looks like… a combination gluten-free and keto cookbook themed around 90’s sitcoms.” 

“80’s. That’s not his thing, though, he probably just thought it was too obscure for annoying customers to guess.”

He examines a paperback from all angles, as if trying to see through the wrapping, and then reads the description again. “A graphic novel—no, manga—based on a popular Nintendo franchise that he describes as, and I quote, ‘significantly gayer than anyone would ever expect it to be.’”

“Well, whatever Bowser and Luigi get up to in their free time is their business.” 

This makes Mystery Guy smile, like really smile, and Vio feels like he’s winning and losing at the same time. 

“And let’s see,” Mystery Guy says, reaching for a mass-market paperback with a disproportionate-looking bow, “romance novels, apparently. He appears to be a big fan, based on the not-at-all snide or derisive commentary on the tin.” 

Vio wants to protest Mystery Guy’s accurate interpretation of his writings, but he’s too busy being impressed that the guy knows how to use ‘derisive’ in a sentence. 

“Would you, uh,” the guy begins to ask, stopping himself halfway through the sentence. Gone is the confidence, at least during this pause, and he proceeds with obvious caution. “Would he not be interested in… romance? As a genre?” 

Vio shakes his head. “No! I mean, yes! I mean, what?”

“Because I—fuck, it’s gotta be past 7:00 at this point, and I had this whole plan to be all charming and suave but then I ran late in the storm and it’s like I’m standing here now and regretting every decision I’ve ever made up until this point, because you’re basically a stranger and in a position where you can’t turn me away and sure, in a movie this would be perfect, but in real life I’m just acting like a total creep—”

“What’s your name?” Vio asks, crossing over the room to join Mystery Guy at the display. Closer to him, Vio can see that his gloved hand is shaking. “It’s not very fair that you’ve been able to see mine this whole time, while I’ve had no choice but to call you unkind things in my head.” 

“Shadow,” Mystery Guy says, and it’s not like it doesn’t make sense.

“Okay, Shadow, I’d be happy to help you find the perfect book for your desired recipient.” 

They avoid contact, both staring at the wrapped volumes on the display as if they’re the most interesting things in the world. Vio selects one and slides it into Shadow’s hand, hoping that a solid object to hold will help keep him steady.

“He might not be a fan of the contemporary romance genre,” Vio says, genuinely surprised by the levelness of his voice. Maybe talking to dozens of strangers a day about books has made him immune to social anxiety, just as long as the topic of discussion is literary. “But romance can be found in nearly any story, in one way or another. He… it sounds like he…” 

Shadow clears his throat. “It’s you, Vio, you can give up the bit.” 

Vio shakes his head. “Nope, I committed already, I’m seeing this through."

“Fair enough,” Shadow says with a grin. ”Now tell me more about this guy, he seems cool.” 

Vio wants so badly to continue the banter, but knows for the sake of his own comfort he has to press pause. He turns to Shadow with a serious expression. “Honestly, before I really start talking about him… he’d probably want you to know that he has a few minor concerns. He’d like to maybe learn what you do during the day, like for work, when you’re not busy antagonizing your local bookseller. What brought you to this town, what your ulterior motives were for becoming a regular at the shop, if you had any at all. He… he just wants to make sure you’re safe, and he apologizes if that’s an offensive thing to question.” 

Shadow nods, seeming to understand Vio’s hesitation. “I work at a gallery downtown, just a few minutes away from the shop. I moved  here after graduating art school because this happened to be where I got offered a job. It’s lonely being in your early twenties in a college town, so sometimes it’s nice to just sit in a cafe or browse my local independent bookstore and feel like I’m a part of something. It’s pure coincidence that, on my first visit to this bookstore, I read several shelf-talkers written by some nerd named Vio who seemed to have similar tastes to mine. So I took out a few of his recommendations from the library—sorry, I don’t have the space to own books right now—and thoroughly enjoyed them. I wanted to talk to him more about books, maybe even ask for his number, but I am not a master manipulator so I settled for being a pest instead. From there it just escalated, because it’s cute when he gets all pissed off, and I enjoyed the challenge he created for me with the wrapped books.” 

Vio exhales shortly. “So, uh… if you were to ask for his number now… would it be just as a friend?” 

“If that’s all he’s interested in, sure.” 

“It’s not,” Vio says firmly. “He, uh, told me so.” 

“Glad to hear it. Does he happen to have any favorite foods, or beverages, over which we could hypothetically discuss our tastes in literature on this snowy Christmas Eve?” 

“Pumpkin soup and evil root beer.” 

“What the hell is evil root beer?” 

“Normal root beer,” Vio explains, “served in a fancy glass so he can gesticulate during his pretentious literary diatribes.” 

“The fanciest glass I have is a Garfield mug.”  

“Works for me.” 

Both Vio and Shadow smile, and finally they come face-to-face. They’re not going to kiss or anything—not yet, anyway—but they both can feel the potential. They gaze into each other’s eyes like they’re romantic leads in a novel Vio would give one generous star, and it’d be tacky if it was anyone else, but not when it’s them. And while kissing doesn’t feel quite right in this particular moment, leaning forward to gently touch foreheads just does. 

“I live like five minutes away,” Shadow mutters, unable and unwilling to move. “I usually feed Pinecone—my cat—around 7, so maybe I’ll head out now, grab pumpkin soup ingredients at the market on my way, and you can come over once the store’s all closed up.”

Vio nods, slightly disrupting the forehead touch that feels so inexplicably cosmically correct. It’s like, in any conceivable universe where Vio and Shadow both exist, they will inevitably end up just like this. 

“What’s your address?” Vio asks, allowing himself to close his eyes. God, it’s been a long day. 

“I’ve got a shitty one-bedroom apartment above the Tower of Spirits liquor store. I stole half of my furniture off the street after the mass exodus of college students in June.”

“You’ve really been here since June?” Vio asks, disregarding the furniture part because for some reason it also feels cosmically correct. “You must have been so lonely.” 

Shadow nods. “Lonely, I’m good at,” he says, finally pulling away. “Believe me when I say, I’ve had lots of practice.” 

Vio nods. “Yeah. Me too.”

“It’s the not being lonely that really freaks me out,” Shadow admits, and it’s like wow, that’s some deep shit to say when Vio just learned his name ten minutes ago, but haven’t they technically known each other for months? Shadow has already read some of Vio’s favorite books, and for Vio that’s about as intimate as passing second base—hell, even third, depending on the book. 

And it could have been a truly beautiful moment between them—one for the books, pun intended—if only the goddamn Chipmunks hadn’t started singing about Christmastime. 

“Oh, fuck this store radio,” Vio says, retreating behind the counter and pulling the plug. “I’ll see you in like twenty minute, I can Venmo you for the soup ingredients later.” 

Shadow looks like he wants to argue with the Venmo thing, but just shakes his head instead. “Sounds good.”

“Oh, and wait,” Vio says, grabbing a pen and a post-it note, “what’s your number?” 

Shadow gives it, and Vio knows this is one piece of paper he will never absentmindedly shred. At least, not until he has a second to enter it into his phone, and then it’s totally fair game. 

Vio hears the ring of the bell and goes to lock the door behind Shadow. Through the glass he watches flurries of snow punctuate the pitch-black sky—and in it, he sees his own dark reflection. It’s just him, of course, a blonde guy in a purple sweater and scrunchie, still visibly tired but noticeably less miserable than he had been an hour ago. He sees a guy who isn’t alone on Christmas Eve, who probably won’t find himself anywhere near a fireplace but will most likely end up cuddling his months-long crush by the night’s end.

He gives himself a smile and decides he can skip the vacuuming tonight. Call it a gift to himself, although several closing tasks still stand between him and Shadow’s apartment.

Vio turns his back on the darkness and gets to work. 

#fsaa22 #fsaa #fs #four swords #vidow #vio x shadow #red x blue #vio link #shadow link #red link #blue link #my writing #this could probably be rated gen but idk

[lunargrapejuice]

hii for ur new event :DDDD I'm a cancer sun scorpio moon capri rising ISTP female. i don't have a preferred gender the charac so any is fine !!! i'm extremely introverted, i'm usually attracted to ambiverts (extrovert leaning) or talkative ppl who aren't too overbearing. i tend to open up with ppl who can carry the convo and aren't too judgey. also i'm super forgetful and use my friends as calendars/to-do-lists sometimes :(( my hobbies are reading, writing, crocheting, and i like astronomy too !!! i dislike super duper loud ppl, and loud noises. i'm also touchy with the ppl i like the most. i'm calm most of the time w/ a go with the flow attitude and tend to look at the bigger picture rather than the details. the spring prompt i choose is sundress !!! tysm :DDD

i match you with..

✿ zhongli

most would assume it was not an easy feat to capture the heart of an archon, whether they be living as a human or as a god, but here you were, proof of how wrong that was and none the wiser to the golden gaze that would bring down mountains for you. they lingered on your figure in the distance, a smile pulling at his lips, warmth spreading in his chest, at the sight of you; and such a lovely sight it was.

the cold months in liyue have passed and the glaze lilies were finally starting to replace the frost that clung to trees and grass. but the warm weather brought with it a much sweeter gift for this ex archon, one that made his breaths deepen and his feet begging for him to move and take his place by your side. how could he resist how utterly beautiful you looked adorned in this sundress? he was a man who loved and cherished beautiful things, special moments and images that would last for many years to come within his memories and you were no exception. 

he didn’t resist the twitch of his legs when his body couldn’t be held back any longer and with long strides he made his way to you, feeling that heat in his chest creep up his neck the closer he drew, the easier it was to drink you in and admire you.

he calls your name and loves how quickly you give him your attention, the way you smile when you see him, how you reach for him the moment he’s within arms length and as he took your hand in his, leaving hardly any space between you, he knew he wanted to be the only one to take this place.

a gloved hand snakes around your waist; long fingers, feather light, brushing against your skin until you feel the weight of his palm at a respectful place on your lower back, a touch you could melt into.

“you look absolutely divine,” he says low, in a deep voice meant for only you to hear.

you cling to him harder, not used to zhongli being so.. forward with his touches or words and normally he would reserve himself more, picking a more appropriate time to show more of his feelings until you gave him permission to kiss your lips and call you his but he simply could not help himself today and he hoped that, as you always had, you would allow him this little more of you. 

soft lips press against your knuckles and even though your heart is beating out of your chest, you aren’t able to break your eyes from those amber orbs that glitter behind long lashes or the way they make you fall for the funeral parlor consultant even more.

authors note: hi babes! thank you so much for requesting and for your patience as i do these with my crazy life going on around me. i hope you're doing well! also i'm sorry not sorry that i made zhongli a little obessed with you, you deserve it heh i hope you enjoyed!

main masterlist | blooming love match ups

#blooming love match ups #zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader

[ominousmotion]

Blind Channel advent calendar

Day 15: „It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks“

I dont know what to think about this, Aleksi thought sitting on his sofa with his third box from their band advent calender in front of him. Rilla was also eying the box, but with more interest than confusion actually. So far the presents had all been pretty funny, like his first one, protective gear to reduce the risk of injurys on stage (box covered in a wrapping paper that said danger on it), or Nikos shoe cleaning set that in his opinion should have been new shoes all along (box wrapped in black and white checkered wrapping paper), or Joels pink blanket with the word babygirl stiched onto it (wrapped in pink wrapping paper that had unicorns on it). The wrapping paper already told the theme of the present it seemed. But the wrapping paper on this box didn’t tell him anything apart from the fact that it was meant to be opened on the 15th of December.

It was just wrapped in simple black wrapping paper. Which could be a good sign aswell as a bad sign. Maybe they just didn’t find any crazy wrapping paper for this one? Or, and that was something he was actually a little bit afraid of, in the box were black clothes. There had been many comments made in the last few months about his change of style. And the guys also joked a bit about it from time to time. He knew they didn’t want to hurt him with this but all those comments were making him a bit insecure. And he actually didn’t know how he would handle black clothes being in the box.

Aleksi got pulled out of his thoughts by Rilla, who had moved closer to the gift and was scratching at it now. Aleksi actually laughed at that. „You want me to open it girl?“ he asked her with a soft voice. Rilla looked up at him excitedly. „Okay let’s do this then“ he said and unwrapped the box. It also didn’t say anything on this box, which was weird. He knew that all of the other boxes (except for the last one that he would still have to open) had something written on them. Did they forget? Or was this a part of the joke?

Aleksi decided to just open the box now before he got lost in his thoughts again. All this musing wouldn’t give him the answer either way. So after letting out a big sigh he quickly took the lid of the box…

…to see clothes. But not black clothes like he feared. And on the first glance they also didn’t look like the most ridiculous ones either. Aleksi took the clothing items out of the box and carefully studied each of them. And to his confusion those were all clothes he liked. How did the guys know this? Or more importantly why did the guys decide to gift them to him?

„I guess I just have to ask them“ Aleksi said to himself and got up to grab his phone. In the group chat he wrote:

Little Menace: Guys I…

Little Menace: I dont…

Little Menace: Why those clothes?

The real violent bob: Because you like them dont you?

Little Menace: Yeah but you guys dont, except for Porko maybe.

Just Olli: I can only speak for myself here but I dont care about the clothes you wear. We got you those clothes because you like them.

Our star: It doesn’t even matter what we think about them Ale. You like those clothes. That is the only important thing here.

Porko: It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. It’s all about what makes you happy and comfortable.  We support you pikkumies!

- 🦋 wearing a santa hat

When I was thinking of what to write for you, the idea had been something else entirely at first. But then I had the idea for this one, and just had to write it. I don't think I did to well on this one, but I hope the overall message still got across. If you don't like it though, I can write you another one.

Thank you 🦋❤️ this is perfect I love it sm. I'm speechless ❤️ all I can say it thank you I love it ❤️❤️❤️

#asks #it blows my mind that people write stuff with me in mind thank you thank you thank you #blind channel rpf #thank you anon ❤️

[webbedphantom]

So I wanna talk about this guy-

Meta Spider is one of the coolest concepts I've ever come up with, somewhat inspired by AUs where Joker or someone else gets Yaldy's power, as well as a very long and very epic fanfic where Yaldy possesses all the Thieves except Joker and tries to resume his plans. (I'd share what the fic was, but I can't remember what it was called sadly, which sucks because I never finished it-)

The idea here was also somewhat inspired by the beginning of NWH, where I was considering the idea of Aaron's identity being revealed, but the issue was that I didn't know how to walk that back tastefully. Keep in mind, NWH released before I'd started writing here, and Twitter doesn't exactly do the concept of verses.

The solution I came up with was simple, a deal with the devil. Which if you're at all familiar with Spider-Man comics, sounds really bad, but I promise this is better than that dumpster fire.

After Aaron begins to stress over how much his life is ruined, and how it has put all his friends in danger, Yaldabaoth appears with a deal. He will manipulate the minds of the masses to forget who Phantom Spider is, though he won't be able to do so for anyone with a Persona or anything similar, meaning the team, Akechi, Shido, and a few others would still remember. And the only thing he asks is to borrow Aaron's body for 24 hours, and more importantly, his innate connection to the Metaverse.

He doesn't agree easily, and he makes sure there are rules a limitations on what Yaldy can do during those 24 hours. Obviously, he's trying to fuse the worlds together, but do that in Aaron's body will require him to get his hands dirty, so he only agrees on a few conditions.

He cannot kill anyone

He cannot harm his friends

He will give Aaron a year to prepare. Not much point in reverting the status quo if he doesn't have time to enjoy it.

Yaldabaoth agrees to not harm his allies, as long as they don't get in his way. If they do, they're fair game, though he still cannot kill them. As for the year to prepare, Yaldabaoth will only agree to a month to get his things in order. He knows if he gives Aaron too long, he's likely to devise away to limit him even further.

Aaron reluctantly accepts.

He doesn't feel he has a choice. His identity being out puts everyone around him at risk. If he ever wants to be in their lives again, if he wants to keep them safe, he has to take this deal.

But he doesn't keep it a secret from them. As soon as the deal is made, he goes and he tells them about it. Obviously, they aren't particularly happy about this, but they understand why he agreed.

So they prepare. They all mark the day of the takeover on their calendars, and they gear up. They don't have to beat him, they just need to stall him.

Now the exact events of what happens during those 24 hours, I've never come up with. Mostly because since this was going to be an event, I was going to leave the details up to whoever I was writing with. But it's a really interesting idea, that I'd love to write sometime!

What I will say is that this would be a really tough fight. Once he knows the Thieves are trying to stop him, he isn't going to hold back much, he will hit them with everything he has as long as he knows they can take it. Aaron won't be able to resist his control, all he can do is nudge things a little to make sure he abides by the terms of the deal. And the only way he can get control back early is if Yaldabaoth breaks his word, which would involve either killing someone or harming one of Aaron's confidants who never got in his way, which aren't exactly ideal.

Last thing I'll say is while I don't have the specifics of the event laid out, I do know what happens if they succeed. Aaron gets his body back, and proceeds to pass the heck out for a few days. But when he wakes, he starts looking into those abilities Yaldabaoth used, to see if he can actually just... do that.

What are those abilities? Don't worry, I've got a post in the works that will explain exactly how powerful Aaron can be. (As well as explain why a lot of those powers won't be seen in a majority of his verses)

#ooc - out of costume; #q'd #au thoughts

[tpanan]

My Sunday Daily Blessings

October 9, 2022

Be still quiet your heart and mind, the LORD is here, loving you talking to you...........                                                                    

Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Roman Rite Calendar) Lectionary 144, Cycle C

First Reading: 2 Kings 5:4-17

Naaman went down and plunged into the Jordan seven times at the word of Elisha, the man of God. His flesh became again like the flesh of a little child, and he was clean of his leprosy. Naaman returned with his whole retinue to the man of God.

On his arrival he stood before Elisha and said, "Now I know that there is no God in all the earth, except in Israel. Please accept a gift from your servant."

Elisha replied, "As the LORD lives whom I serve, I will not take it;" and despite Naaman's urging, he still refused. Naaman said: "If you will not accept, please let me, your servant, have two mule-loads of earth, for I will no longer offer holocaust or sacrifice to any other god except to the LORD."

Responsorial Psalm:  Psalm 98:1, 2-3, 3-4

"The Lord has revealed to the nations his saving power."

Second Reading: 2 Timothy 2:8-13

Beloved: Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, a descendant of David: such is my gospel, for which I am suffering, even to the point of chains, like a criminal. But the word of God is not chained. Therefore, I bear with everything for the sake of those who are chosen, so that they too may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus, together with eternal glory.

This saying is trustworthy: If we have died with him we shall also live with him; if we persevere we shall also reign with him. But if we deny him he will deny us. If we are unfaithful he remains faithful, for he cannot deny himself.

Verse before the Gospel: 1 Thessalonians 5:18

R: Alleluia, Alleluia

"In all circumstances, give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus."

R: Alleluia, Alleluia

**Gospel: Luke 17:11-19

As Jesus continued his journey to Jerusalem, he traveled through Samaria and Galilee. As he was entering a village, ten lepers met him. They stood at a distance from him and raised their voices, saying, "Jesus, Master! Have pity on us!" And when he saw them, he said, "Go show yourselves to the priests." As they were going they were cleansed. And one of them, realizing he had been healed, returned, glorifying God in a loud voice; and he fell at the feet of Jesus and thanked him.

He was a Samaritan. Jesus said in reply, "Ten were cleansed, were they not? Where are the other nine? Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God?" Then he said to him, "Stand up and go; your faith has saved you."

**Meditation: 

What can adversity teach us about the blessing of thanksgiving and the healing power of love and mercy? The Book of Proverbs states: A friend loves at all times; and a brother is born for adversity (Proverbs 17:17). When adversity strikes you find out who truly is your brother, sister, and friend. The Gospel records an unusual encounter between two peoples who had been divided for centuries. The Jews and Samaritans had no dealings with one another even though Samaria was located in the central part of Judea. Both peoples were openly hostile whenever their paths crossed. In this Gospel narrative we see one rare exception - a Samaritan leper in company with nine Jewish lepers. Sometimes adversity forces people to drop their barriers or to forget their prejudices. When this band of Jewish and Samaritan lepers saw Jesus they made a bold request. They didn't ask for healing, but instead asked for mercy. 

Mercy is heartfelt sorrow at another's misfortune The word mercy literally means "sorrowful at heart". But mercy is something more than compassion, or heartfelt sorrow at another's misfortune. Compassion empathizes with the sufferer. But mercy goes further - it removes suffering. A merciful person shares in another's misfortune and suffering as if it were his or her own. And such a person will do everything in his or her power to dispel that misery.

Mercy is also connected with justice. Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274), a great teacher and scripture scholar, said that mercy "does not destroy justice, but is a certain kind of fulfillment of justice. ..Mercy without justice is the mother of dissolution; (and) justice without mercy is cruelty." Pardon without repentance negates justice. 

God's mercy brings healing of mind, heart, and body So what is the significance of these ten lepers asking for mercy? They know they are in need of healing, not just physical, but spiritual healing as well. They approach Jesus with contrition and faith because they believe that he can release the burden of guilt and suffering and make restoration of body and soul possible. Their request for mercy is both a plea for pardon and release from suffering. Jesus gives mercy to all who ask with faith and contrition. 

Why did only one leper out of ten return to show gratitude? Gratefulness, another word which expresses gratitude of heart and a thankful disposition, is related to grace - which means the release of loveliness. Gratitude is the homage of the heart which responds with graciousness in expressing an act of thanksgiving. The Samaritan approached Jesus reverently and gave praise to God.

Ingratitude leads to lack of love and kindness, and intolerance towards others If we do not recognize and appreciate the mercy and help shown to us we will be ungrateful and unkind towards others. Ingratitude is forgetfulness or a poor return for kindness received. Ingratitude easily leads to lack of charity and intolerance towards others, as well as to other vices, such as complaining, grumbling, discontentment, pride, and presumption. How often have we been ungrateful to our parents, pastors, teachers, and neighbors? Do you express gratitude to God for his abundant help and mercy towards you and are you gracious, kind, and merciful towards your neighbor in their time of need and support?

Lord Jesus, may I never fail to recognize your loving kindness and mercy towards me. Fill my heart with compassion and thanksgiving, and free me from ingratitude and discontentment. Help me to count my blessings with a grateful heart and to give thanks in all circumstances.

Sources:

Lectionary for Mass for use in the Dioceses of the United States, second typical edition, copyright (c) 2001, 1998, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine; Psalm refrain (c) 1968, 1981, 1997, international committee on english in the liturgy, Inc All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner

**Meditations may be freely reprinted and translated into other languages for non-profit use only. Please cite copyright and original source. Copyright 2021 Daily Scripture Readings and Meditation, dailyscripture.net author Don Schwager

[oldofficiallypadfoot]

A Forgotten Birthday, A bed, and Presents.

PAIRINGS: Georgie Cooper x Fem!OC (Romantic), Slight!Sheldon Cooper x Fem!OC (Familial)

REQUESTED? Yes • [No]

WORD COUNT: 2,226

SUMMARY| Amanda Henricks was taken in by the Coopers after her parents died in a house fire when she was five. It is now her birthday and no one seems to remember, except two people.

Adm Note: I made this because today is my birthday, I love Georgie and my OC Amanda holds a special place in my heart. This is just a small side project for my birthday that will connect to Amanda’s young sheldon universe.

The faint whispers of the Autumn season fluttered through the breeze as a groan came from the back of Amanda's throat. She glared angrily at the alarm clock buzzing across her nightstand, with a huff of annoyance she pulled herself out of her bed, her warm dark blue comforter pooling at the end of her bed as cold air latched onto her heated skin.

She schlepped over to her closet in search of an outfit to wear, not for church seeing as she never attended. It's not that she didn't believe in God or any other deities it's just that she is agnostic meaning she doesn't believe that nothing is known or can be known of the existence or nature of God or of anything beyond material phenomena. She claims neither Faith nor Disbelief of god, Deities, or supernatural all she knows is that it can't be proved correct but it can't be proved false either.

The brunette threw on a flowy white batwing shirt that ended above her belly button and tied in the front, a pair of cut off blue jean shorts that ended at her upper thigh, a pair of black kitten-heeled boots that made her as tall as Georgie; seeing as he is an inch taller than her and will never let her forget it, her brunette hair laid in straight lines, with a faint curl outward towards the end, that stopped in between her shoulder blades.

She glanced at the figure skating calendar and saw that it was the Tenth of October, Her birthday. The calendar was hung up with a silver thumbtack that had it pinned against the corkboard above her dark oak wood desk, The corkboard was a light grey that balanced out the dark blue that covered the girl's walls.

She scanned over her outfit one last time before swiveling around to her door and opening the plank of wood, The door was also made of dark wood; Matching her desk, with a gold door handle and wood burn designs decorating the outer shell of the wood; designs that wouldn't be noticed unless you really study the door.

Her room was down the hall from the living room, right across the hall from Sheldon and Malissa's room, a door down from Georgie's room; The bathroom separated their rooms, and down the hall from George and Mary's room; Their room was located at the end of the hallway.

She listened to the faint sound of talking that echoed off the walls from the kitchen; Breakfast. She made her way out of the bedroom; saying she would make her bed once she got done with breakfast. Birthdays were never a big deal to Amanda, She just didn't understand why she was being celebrated on the day she was born just for existing? In a way, it felt more like a taunt; Hey, you made it another year let's see just how much more you can put up with.

Still, just because she didn't understand birthdays didn't make it hurt any less when she entered the kitchen and no one said anything more than a 'Good morning.' She had grown used to having birthdays but even if it did hurt that everyone seemed to forget, she would never let them know that. If there was one thing to know about Amanda it's that; she has an unhealthy habit of bottling up her emotions.

She sent them a smile and sat down; knowing they didn't wait for her to pray before they ate their food, She should have known that when it comes to her? Absolutely nothing gets past her best friend; George Jr. Cooper.

Once breakfast was over she took everyone's dishes over to the sink and ran some water to let them soak before she washed them; her doing small acts like this is her way of thanking the Coopers for taking her in when no one else would.

She dried her hand off on the dishtowel that hung off of the oven handle; the dish towel was a cream color with a green and pink flower design. She heard the soft pitter-patter of bare feet along the cold floor before two thin arms wrapped around her waist; a chill dancing along her spine from the sudden hug. Her dirt brown eyes fluttering over to the small figure holding her; it was Sheldon. "Happy Birthday, Amanda." The boy said while looking up at the older girl who smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of Sheldon's head; She knew that physical contact was a big thing for Sheldon, and even if everyone else seemed to forget this would definitely be her favorite birthday for Sheldon's present alone.

Slowly the day filtered into nightfall as Mary and George put Sheldon and Melissa to bed; Amanda sat in her room, Book in hand; Specifically IT by Stephen King, a faint knock was heard at her bedroom door making a whine claw its way from the back of the brunette's throat.

She placed a bookmark on the page; not one to like folded corners on the pages of her book, before she stood up, goosebumps rising along her skin as the cold floor hit her warm flesh. She quietly padded across her room to the door, upon opening the plank of wood Georgie was revealed to be standing behind it, a sheepish smile on his face as Amanda rolled her eyes; not being able to stop the small fond smile that pulled at the corner of her lips, she quickly sidestepped and let Georgie enter her bedroom; not minding the mess on her desk from where she was doing extra school work, despite not needing too.

Sometimes the brunette questioned her intelligence when she realized that she had fallen hopelessly in love with the curly-haired boy named Georgie Cooper. She wasn't exactly sure when her tumble into the deep pit called love started for the boy.

Maybe, it was during one of their late-night conversations after she was taken in by the Cooper's? It could have been during the first time they shared a room because hers was getting remodeled? Possibly, when he listened to her ramble on about the difference between a book and a movie that he had no clue about? Or, When she watched him talk about football with an excited passion glimmering in his eyes?

When? She wasn't sure but she knew for a fact that she had fallen for him. Hard.

She blinked away her dazed-like state of mind and turned to the boy of her secret romantic affections. "How can I help you, Georgie?" The brunette wondered as she motioned for the male to take a seat on her bed, shortly after she did the same.

She felt the bed dip down beside her as Georgie sat down, it was obvious something was plaguing the young man's mind but if he wanted to let it known was the mystery. "Happy Birthday," The male started and her look of worry shifted to one of gratitude, he remembered; he had remembered all day but she had practically sprinted out of the house earlier that morning before he could say anything.

"You remembered." The young woman whispered in disbelief; her voice was soft and could easily be stolen by the wind if you don't listen carefully, but he heard loud and clear because there was no wind; her windows were closed.

"Of course, I remembered. I know that you might not understand the celebration but I also know that you enjoy it." It was true, Georgie knew her like the back of his own mind was in the shape of her bodily form. He had always been able to tell her emotions and when she ran out this morning he must have noticed the sadness that was shining in her eyes.

"Stop." The brunette pleaded, making Georgie look at her with nothing but confusion, and a little worry, written across his face like he were just another page in one of her favorite books.

"Stop, what?" He questioned; genuinely curious as to what he did. Amanda let out a sigh, she could slowly feel that bottle of emotions spilling over like the jar wasn't big enough to fit it all, and she slowly felt her hold on the bottle slip as he kept staring at her with sparkles in his eyes.

"Stop, making me fall deeper in love with you!" Amanda whisper-shouted as she pushed herself off of her bed; that she did in fact make earlier that day before she left for the library.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to not reach across the table and kiss you? Or, hold your hand underneath the table? Or, how jealous I get when I see you off with someone else? It breaks me inside that you seem to have eyes on everybody else and I know that you don't see me as enough for you!" The brunette ranted; her breath was slightly faster, her hands running through her brown locks of hair, as she unconsciously paced across the wooden floors of her room.

Georgie sat in silence for a moment before the words sunk in and he reacted "Woah, now, where did you get the idea that I didn't think you were enough for me? If anything, I think you deserve so much better than what I could ever give you." He claimed as he stood up, slowly coming to stand in front of the pacing girl, his hands coming to rest on her upper arms.

"But what if I don't want anything better? I want you, I've wanted you for who knows how long because despite what you think, You're everything I could want in a significant other. I mean, You're caring and funny, and ridiculously handsome, You're talented and easy to talk to, I'm comfortable with you. More comfortable than I've been with anyone in a long time because you're it for me, Georgie. You're the one person I can see my happily ever after with because even if it's just a fairy tale, you're in it; You're that fantasy knight in sliver shining armor, riding on a stupid white horse, while I'm that pathetic damsel in distress who can't cope with her stupid romantic feelings for the boy standing in front of her." She stated, her hands resting again his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his white shirt.

Georgie's eyes scanned over Amanda's face; slowly both of the teen's heads leaned forward on their own accord, their lips skimming across each other in the faintest of kisses; like butterflies softly dancing along their lips. They pulled away, their eyes fluttering open as they looked at each other; trying to see if one of them wanted to back out.

She moved her left hand up to the back of the, slightly, taller boys neck and pulled him down to meet her; their mouths crashing against each other as her left hand moved up into his hair, her right hand grasping at his shirt like he would disappear into thin air if she dared to let his shirt go. Georgie's left hand rested firmly on the small of Amanda's back; as if he was trying to pull her closer, his right hand rested on her jaw; his thumb gently brushing along her cheekbone as their lips moved against each other in perfect harmony, like two souls finding each other again after thousands of year's of being split apart.

The moon smiled down on the new lovers as they slowly parted, foreheads resting against each other as their heavy breathing mingled.

Out in the kitchen; down the hallway from the young lovers, was Mary and George. George had a newspaper in his hand as Mary cleaned out the fridge. "Hey, George. What's today's date? I want to see if the milk has gone bad." Mary asked her husband, looking at the date plastered on the side of the carton.

"Oh, uh, it's the," he paused drawing out the 'E' sound in the word as he searched for the date somewhere along the page "Tenth of October." He said and Mary almost dropped the carton of unspoiled milk.

"It's the Tenth already?" She almost hollered at her husband "Oh, God. We forgot Amanda's birthday." She stated as she began making her way down the hallway to the teenage girl's room, hoping to at least say 'good night' before the girl went off to bed.

George followed after his wife; who was now leaned against the door frame, a warm smile on her face. George peeked over her shoulder and felt a small smile of his own cross his face.

Lying in the bed was Georgie and Amanda; Georgie was laying on his back, his arms wrapped firmly around Amanda's waist; as if trying to protect the brunette from all of the bad things in the world. Amanda was curled into the male's side; practically latched onto the male as if he would leave her in her sleep, her head nuzzled into his neck as her hands rested limply against his chest.

The two parents backed away from the door and quietly shut the door before slinking off to their room and turning in for the night.

#georgie cooper #georgie cooper x reader #George Jr Cooper #George Jr Cooper x Reader #Georgie Cooper Imagines #George Jr Cooper Imagines #Georgie Cooper imagine #George Jr Cooper imagine #Georgie Cooper x OC #George Jr Cooper x OC #Georgie Cooper x Fem!OC #George Jr Cooper x Fem!OC #Young Sheldon imagines #Young Sheldon x oc #Young Sheldon x reader #Young Sheldon imagine

[lollypopsx]

Flatmate! Harry: I’ll Make It Up To You - Part 1

Warnings: Swearing, slight angst 

Please like if it’s not too shabby, reblog for anyone who may enjoy this and follow if you want to see more! Any suggestions are happily taken for future writing! I love you all! be safe and be kind x

Part 2 - Part 3

—————————

You was going to kill him. This was the last straw and you had used up every ounce of patience today.

“Harry Edward Styles! Get in here right now or I swear to fucking god you won’t ever breath again!” You shout, your hands clutching the towel wrapped around your body. Your hair styled in a bouncy blow dry with a full face of makeup, a brown smoky eye and a nude lip.

The two of you bicker and argue like enemies, laugh like the best of friends and love each other like a married couple. Although you were only flat mates and nothing had ever gone further than friends, you knew Harry would never see you in that way, however the tiniest part of you had always hoped one day you’d be proven wrong. But you knew all along you’d rather have him as a best friend than lose him all together.

You hear the footsteps round the corner and a grin like the Cheshire Cat plastered on Harrys face “Do you mind? I’m trying to write some music Y/N” he smirks.

“Where the hell are all my clothes?! And where the fuck is my guitar?!” You shout angrily. You were no stranger to practical jokes in this house, both giving and receiving them. But today was different. You had the most important audition of your lifetime, and half of your room had been emptied. 

The laughter escaping Harry’s lips was making you angrier and angrier by the second. “I told you that you’d regret stealing my jumpers!” He smirks.

“That doesn’t mean you take everything I own! Now where to hell is it all?!”

“Ah now you see…this is where it gets fun…you see we’ve made you a little scavenger hunt to find it all. All you have to do is-”

“We?! Who’s we?!” You growl through gritted teeth.

“Ok ok…I can’t take all the credit for this…Niall helped. So…here’s the rules!”

“Harry!” You cut him off “I don’t have time for a fucking scavenger hunt! I have my audition in an hour and I’m already running late! Just get me some fucking clothes and my guitar so I can leave!”

As soon as you had mentioned your audition, the smug grin fell from Harrys face and his rosy cheeks had drained to pale “oh shit. T-that’s today?! I…I thought it was Friday” he frowns “w-well all your stuff is in Niall’s car and he’s in Brighton so I can just get him to drive back asap and…” he fumbles for his phone quickly.

“Brighton?! Harry you have 3 seconds to tell me this is a joke before I rip your pretty little head off! That’s 2 hours away Harry! I’ll never make it in time!”

“Y/N I’m so sorry! I am I really am, I would never have done this today if I knew” Guilt filling his eyes.

“You knew Harry! It’s written on the fridge, on the calendar and you helped me rehearse two days ago!”

“Why don’t I just go and buy you something to wear?” He offers, although he was currently terrified to speak incase his head really did get ripped off. He hadn’t seen you this angry since you pierced holes in three of your ex-boyfriends tyres after finding out he cheated.

“Well that’s pointless because I haven’t got my guitar and you don’t even have your acoustic guitar here. Forget it Harry. Just get out.” You mutter, your head hanging low in disappointment. Even if you left now you’d be late, and that was frowned upon. Turning up anywhere late was bad enough, let alone an audition. If you’re going to turn up late, then there’s no point turning up at all because you wouldn’t even be given a chance. The entertainment business was a difficult place to be, and this was your one chance to really make something bigger for yourself and it was ruined.

“Y/N I…”

“I said get out!” You scream, releasing the built up fury “go and join Niall in Brighton for all I fucking care. Leave me alone. I’m so disappointed Harry” you felt the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

The sight of you on the verge of tears was enough to break his heart. He wanted to protest, he wanted to make it all better. But he knew you too well. He knew if he didn’t leave you alone to calm down then it would make everything worse than it already was. He had never felt so guilty. In the 4 years you had lived together, practical jokes never made either of you angry. Sure they were embarrassing at times, but you two always had the best of times. At what made it even worse this time was that he had made you cry…and you’d used the ‘D’ word on him!

Harry had left, shutting the front door quietly as he headed to the studio to get out of your hair for a few hours. Also calling Niall in the process to get him to get the fuck home asap. It may have seemed like a pretty extreme joke, but they didn’t intend it to turn out this way. The plan was that the scavenger hunt would lead you to Brighton with Harry to meet Niall there, and the three of you would spend the day and night by the beach, shopping, drinking, eating...everything that you loved to do.

As hours passed, you found yourself tucked under the mountain of blankets on the sofa, wearing a pair of Harry’s boxers, joggers and a white hoodie. Which you purposely chose because your makeup rubbed off on the collar and the sleeves as you wiped your tears. 

You felt deflated and disappointed. You should have been more prepared...no actually, Harry shouldn’t of been a dick. You knew he didn’t mean to jeopardize your audition, but these auditions didn’t come along often and part of you just wasn’t ready to let this go yet.

Harry crept in quietly, although you didn’t hear him, or at least you didn’t want to. “ Hey...Y/N” he whispers softly, walking through the living room door cautiously.

“Hm?” you mutter, not allowing yourself to speak a word to him, and especially making sure your eyes were glued to Netflix, not giving him the satisfaction of paying attention.

“I...I got you these” He whispers, placing a big bouquet of red roses and white lilies on the glass coffee table in front of you. You looked straight passed them “Oh wow...maybe I should send these over to the directors and producers to say sorry and maybe they can make an exception for little Y/N to try again!” you state sarcastically, but your facial expression staying as blank as possible.

He sighs softly and perches himself on the arm of the sofa, he gently pulls your shoulders back for you to rest your back against his thigh. “I know it doesn’t change what I did Y/N, and believe me if I could of changed anything I would, and if I could turn back time, I’d do anything”

“You really fucked up Harry” you whisper, your voice cracking gently as you wiped your tears on the sleeve of his hoodie. “You don’t get it. You’re Harry Styles and you get everything handed to you on a plate because everyone already knows who you are! You’ve done what like...three auditions in your life and you’ve succeeded every single one. It’s not like that for me. I spent hours and hours practicing. And weeks just writing these songs in hope they get heard one day and now they won’t because word spreads really quick in this industry.” You still couldn’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, because you hated people seeing you cry. 

He sighed softly, staying silent as he pulled you up gently and sitting himself underneath you as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. He was always the first to help you rehearse when you had an audition, the first to comfort you if it went wrong or you didn’t succeed, and the first to celebrate and congratulate you when you did get it. Unfortunately, this time no one will ever know how it would have gone. He knew he couldn’t say much else because he knew you were right.  

You wanted to resist, but instead you buried your face into his chest and whimpered softly. As disappointed as you were, you knew Harry was truly sorry and he’d hang onto this guilt for a while. He held you close as his gentle fingers raked through your hair.

“I’ve put everything back in your room, all folded and neat” He whispers “I’ll make it up to you. I promise” He kept his arms around you supportively, although his chest was heavy with guilt, he already had a plan conjuring in his mind. 

—————————

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #one shot #hslot #flatmate!harry #roommate!harry #angst #lollypopsx #fanfic #imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #one direction

[attemptinghaikyuu]

Just a joke

G/n reader x Kita Shinsuke

A/n: he’s truly just the kinda guy I’d do this to, would there be repercussions? Yes. Would I do it again, over and over just to get a reaction out of Kita? Absolutely.

———

You try your best to stifle the giggles threatening to burst forth and out into the small room. Even with both of your hands pressed firmly against your trembling lips, the laughter you are holding in is so close to escaping.

Kita’s turned away from you, very much purposefully ignoring you after your stunt. You know he’ll give you the attention you crave eventually, so you don’t worry about the silence lasting for long. In fact, if you let the laughter fill the space between you both right this minute, he’d be glaring disapprovingly faster than you could blink. He’d begin to chide you and stop momentarily when he saw that you were smiling at him, obviously not paying attention to any of his words and instead, just listening to the sound of his voice. That’s when he’d pinch your cheeks and make you listen while holding back a smile of his own. Sadly, as much you wanted that, it was also when he’d given you a weeks worth of chores to make up for soaking him.

You keep your hands set firmly over your mouth, trembling from the effort of keeping silent. You would not be stuck doing the dishes every day, for every meal. Waiting for a smaller punishment was going to be worth it.

He’s wiping himself clean. He’s absolutely sopping, his clothes dripping wet. Water (water that you’re responsible for) is cascading off him and onto the carpet, you know he’s already going to have you dry it off. He might just possibly insist you deep clean the rug. You’re fine with that. You’re happy to do that little tidying up, when he’s endured your prank. You’d be off the hook almost entirely scotch free if that’s all he asked you do for him.

Your body relaxes slightly at the thought of Kita warmly scolding you. Telling you to take the carpet outside and to please, fix it.

His soft scolding, it was something you had to wait out, an arms width out of your reach. You had to be patient to get that type of reaction out of him, if you started teasing too soon he’d bring up all the work he had to do that week and bam! You’d be stuck doing whatever he wanted because you couldn’t resist him. He was too much. His smile was made of gold and made every floor you cleaned worth it when he gave it to you. There was no way you could genuinely say no to the man. He could frown and ask for a beverage from halfway across the planet and you’d be on a plane to get it before he could finish his sentence.

You’d aim for the soft scolding, regardless of the smile he’d give you as thanks for any chores you did.

You couldn’t let your guard down. Staying strong was important for this too work. Right now was when you needed to be smart. You had to get him to except the joke as, well, a joke.. you couldn’t let yourself start swooning with thoughts of his smile and forget the objective; sweet scolding’s and minimal repercussions.

“Darling,” his voice has you feeling sober in seconds. The tone wasn’t bad, but you knew that voice. If you don’t want to get stuck cleaning for a week, nows the time to come up with a convincing argument as to why the bucket over the entrance to your home was harmless and actually really funny.

“Do you think you could explain the bucket? The towels too, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Ah, you’d thought he would appreciate the towels you had placed with such care conveniently by his side. You come to the very good realization, that he had not apparently enjoyed that bit of preparation and thinking beforehand.

You clear your throat and tentatively step forward. “Yes, well I’m not sure you took the time to check the calendar today,”

He had. Kita always did.

“But it happens to be April 1st, isn’t that fun! ..Isn’t this fun?” You chuckle, gesturing between Kita, the bucket, and yourself.

You send a silent prayer to the gods when Kita gives you a deadpan stare in response.

“I did look and I was aware of today’s special meaning, I suppose I just figured it was an obsolete holiday. Especially after last year.”

You’re not sure how you can explain your way out of this one, words freeze on the tip of your tongue at his disapproval. You’re smiling nervously, mind buzzing as it searches for something to say that could soothe Kita’s displeasure. You don’t get the chance before he’s turning away, apparently done with your conversation.

“Shin, hold on, we have to talk it out first, right?”

He gives no response, towels in hand and reaching for the bathroom door at the end of the hall. He probably wants a shower, though he usually takes them at the end of the day when the sun has already set. The sun is still in the sky. He probably had a long day and wanted to get home so he could relax with you. Something he can’t exactly do when you’ve just dumped cold water on him. You’ve covered him in things to worry about…

Panic sets in fast and you grab his arm, pulling him back.

“Wait! Shinsuke, wait! I’m sorry, I thought it was harmless! I wasn’t thinking, please, please let’s talk things out. Please, I don’t want to be the reason you’re upset..” You bite your lip, holding back tears that threaten to fall. You refuse to let anymore water fall today, you think fiercely.

Kita gives you his attention once more, this time with a full frown pulling his features downward.

“I’m not.” The towels fall from his hands as he uses them to reach out and cradle your face. “I wasn’t mad, I didn’t mean to make you think that. I know you were messing around, I can’t say I enjoyed the impromptu shower, but I’m not all that upset from it.” He waits for you to acknowledge his words before continuing, tone softening.

“I was messing with you when I walked away. Im sorry for that. You don’t need to worry about me being upset, okay darling?”

“We’re you really playing around with me like that?” You sigh, tired from the rollercoaster of emotions you’d gone on in such a short span of time.

“Yes. I was,” He lifts your chin up, bringing your eyes up from the floor where you had let them fall. “Forgive me?”

You smile, shaking your head. “Shin, do you think I’m capable of refusing you?”

He presses a kiss to your temple, then one to your nose. A pause between each. You savor his love, basking in it. It’s what you’ve wanted all day. Your entire being begging to have Kita’s skin meet your own. To be close to him.

He gives a gentle press of his lips to your own, before pulling away with a final request that finally has you laughing from disbelief and resignation.

“Do the dishes tonight?”

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu kita #kita shinsuke #kita x reader #kita x y/n #kita x you #happy april fools day #me: *lightly pranks Kita* #Kita: *pretends to be disappointed and acts scary but is only getting back at me* #me: . #pleASE KISS ME RIGHT NOW #hq fluff

[extasiswings]

Ohhh 70 (“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”) OR 93 (“You’re more than that.”) for the prompt thing, whichever you prefer! I always adore your writing, thank you so much for sharing it with us ☺️

OR? No, both. And thank you, you're very sweet. On ao3 here.

Most of the time, Buck feels like there’s no one in the world who understands Eddie as well as he does. Most of the time. Because there are still some other times when he’s completely in the dark.

And sure, okay, it makes sense on some level because they all have their blind spots—of course he’s going to have a few where Eddie is concerned as well—but they never fail to catch him by surprise.

A month after Eddie comes home from the hospital, Buck is having coffee with Carla while Eddie’s at a physical therapy appointment and he offhandedly says—

“Not sure why I never see Ana. You would think Eddie being shot would make her want to be around more, not less—”

“Buck,” Carla interrupts, a strange look passing over her face. “Honey...Eddie broke up with her three weeks ago.”

That stops Buck short, makes him feel like he’s missed a step on the stairs.

“What?” His mouth is dry. He swallows. “He—why?”

Carla picks up her cup and takes a long sip, as if she needs the extra seconds to figure out what to say, and Buck backtracks.

“No, forget it, that’s—it’s not my business,” he says. It’s not. Even if it feels a little like it should be, even if he doesn’t understand why Eddie would tell Carla and not him, even if he’s Eddie’s best friend—

Buck knows that Eddie’s a private person. He knows that sometimes Eddie keeps things close to his chest while he’s thinking them through. Eddie hadn’t said a word about Shannon until she walked into the station and aired their business for all of them to hear. He barely talked about Ana in the first place. He changed his will and sat on that information for a year—

Buck’s not upset it’s just—it feels—

The thing is.

The thing is…He’s not oblivious. He knows how he feels about Eddie. How he’s felt for at least the past two years. Like he can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t look at him without feeling like he’s screaming with it, bleeding love all over, unable to stop it dripping from every pore. Exposed and pathetically obvious, and the whole time Eddie has just—said nothing. Ignored it, Buck assumes, because he can’t not have noticed, can’t not have seen.

And maybe sometimes Buck has wondered if Eddie wasn’t ignoring it. If he felt the same and just couldn’t say it. Because he was grieving and wasn’t ready—

But then he was. He was ready. And he chose Ana Flores.

That was the end of it. That was supposed to be the end of it. Because Buck’s not a masochist, he knows he hangs onto things for too long, but he’s been working on knowing when to let go.

Except—except Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and Buck sat on a hospital bed and stared as Eddie said no one will ever fight for my son as hard as you and you act like you’re expendable…but you’re not and the words felt…heavy. The air, weighted. And Eddie couldn’t look at him and Buck could swear that he was trying to say—

Buck knows he shouldn’t be. But there’s a part of him that’s angry. That wants to pace and run and clasp Eddie’s face between his hands and ask really? Now? Because—because Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and Buck barely survived it, thought if Eddie died, he would have died with him, was more terrified than he’s ever been in his life. But he did survive. And he moved on. He kissed Taylor. He closed the door.

So Eddie’s not allowed to make big declarations that he could have made a year ago and then break up with his girlfriend when Buck is finally trying—

Okay, maybe he’s a little upset.

The rest of him though—most of him, really—knows he doesn’t have any right to be angry. Which is why most of him is just…tired. Tired and terrified and still so in love.

Buck thinks maybe Eddie was right all those months ago. The universe doesn’t scream. It just laughs. At him.

“Buck?” Carla’s gaze is soft. Steady.

Buck clears his throat. Drains the last dregs of his coffee. He tries not to feel like he’s swallowed glass.

“Did I tell you I’m seeing someone?” He asks, forcing a smile. “She’s a reporter. She was—she was at Eddie’s homecoming actually, maybe you met her. It’s still pretty new, but we’ve been friends for a while. Going pretty well so far.”

Something flickers in Carla’s eyes, but she takes a breath and smiles.

“That’s great, Buckaroo,” she replies. “I’m happy for you.”

He’s trying. He’s really trying.

He doesn’t ask Eddie about the breakup.

*

Recovery is slow.

Buck doesn’t really like thinking about it as recovery because Eddie’s the one who got shot. Eddie’s the one who was in a sling and in physical therapy and had to spend months waiting to be well enough to get cleared to go back to work.

Eddie’s the one who got shot. The one whose blood flooded the street. The one who spent days unconscious in the hospital. The one who almost died.

Eddie’s the only one who has anything to recover from.

Dr. Copeland doesn’t agree. Buck mentions that he’s having trouble sleeping, that his chest gets tight if he goes too long without seeing Eddie and Christopher, that he can’t breathe sometimes when he’s on shift and Eddie’s out of sight.

She refers him out to a trauma specialist. He tries to argue that it’s not his trauma, but she just looks at him for a long moment.

“When you say you can’t sleep, is it insomnia? Or do you have nightmares that wake you up?”

Buck bites his lip and looks down at his hands. When he blinks, they’re streaked with red. When he blinks again, they’re clean. He curls his fingers into fists to prevent them from shaking.

“A little of both,” he admits.

“And when it’s nightmares, what are they about?”

“…blood.” Eddie’s blood in the street, on his hands, splashed across his face, on his tongue—

She hums.

“Evan,” she says quietly. “It’s okay. It’s not a weakness to admit that you need help. And just because you weren’t shot yourself doesn’t mean you didn’t experience something traumatic. You’re allowed to seek treatment.”

Buck swallows. “I feel like…I should be better by now,” he admits. “Better than this. Shouldn’t it be easier?”

“Recovery is a process,” Dr. Copeland replies. “A journey. And it doesn’t always move in a straight line. There’s no timetable.”

Recovery. He makes a face.

But, he goes to see the specialist. He’s not sure how much it helps.

Blood splashing across his face, water running red, skin scrubbed raw—

Buck sits up gasping, cold sweat beading across his brow. Taylor is sound asleep on the other side of the bed, the distance between them a chasm he doesn’t know how to cross. He doesn’t know if he wants to even if he did.

He shivers. Grabs his phone. Quietly descends the steps of the loft to settle on the couch.

“Buck. Hey.” Eddie’s voice is gravelly and soft from sleep. Buck winces.

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I don’t mind,” Eddie replies. “You know I don’t mind.”

Eddie pauses. “What was it tonight?”

Buck exhales shakily. “Your heart stopped in the truck before we could get to the hospital. I couldn’t get it to start again. I know it didn’t happen that way, but I still—”

“It’s okay,” Eddie says. “I’m okay. That—it wasn’t real.”

“Yeah.” It felt real though. Buck can still feel ribs cracking under phantom compressions, the slick of blood on his hands. He can taste Eddie’s blood in his mouth.

“What do you need?”

Buck stretches out and closes his eyes, the phone pressed hard to his ear.

You. Just you. Always you.

“Can you—” His throat clicks. “Can you just talk? It doesn’t matter about what, I just—”

I need to hear your voice. I need to hear you alive.

“Christopher picked a project for the science fair,” Eddie says. “You have to promise to act surprised when he tells you though. He’s really excited.”

“Oh yeah? I can do that. What is it?”

“Well…”

Buck falls asleep again with Eddie’s voice in his ear and he doesn’t dream again. Taylor wakes him on the couch in the morning, an odd look on her face—he doesn’t know how to explain that it’s not her fault. She just can’t help him. Perhaps she never could.

Buck thinks maybe there’s still a part of her that wants him to chase her. But he’s in no condition to chase anyone, even if he wanted to. It takes enough out of him to hold himself together. And to fight against what seems more and more inevitable.

So. Maybe he should stop fighting it.

He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face as he sits up.

“I think we should probably talk,” he says quietly.

Taylor tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and sinks down onto the couch next to him.

“I think we should.”

It ends as quickly as it began.

*

Christmas takes him by surprise. It’s not that Buck doesn’t notice the fall slipping away—a Halloween shift, a Veteran’s Day that has Eddie a little quieter, a little shakier, than usual, and Thanksgiving lasts practically a whole week with all the leftovers that end up in the station—but somehow it doesn’t fully register until he looks up at the calendar in the middle of December and sees a smiling Christmas tree sticker on a date ten days out. They’re not working, so the only question is where he’s going to end up, if anywhere. Although, he supposes even that’s not really a question.

He knows where he’ll end up.

Five days before Christmas, a last-minute tree has been wrangled into the Diaz house and Buck is fighting with a tangled set of lights while Eddie pulls out wrapping paper and ribbons and retrieves the hidden stash of gifts for Christopher from his closet. Christopher himself is fast asleep in his room, worn out from the day of running around, and without the extra person to focus on Buck takes a moment and lets himself just...watch Eddie. Sitting on the floor in low light with his legs stretched out, surrounded by ornaments and boxes and stray clippings and a small pile of somewhat lumpy, clumsily wrapped gifts, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he focuses on trying to figure out the right way to fold the wrapping paper—

There’s a stray piece of tinsel in his hair and a laugh catches in Buck’s throat, even as the rest of him aches with a sudden, fierce urge to brush it away.

He aches. Because this—this is what he wants. Eddie and Christopher and going around town to finish the Christmas shopping, picking out a tree and decorating it as a family, coming home to this day after day after day and knowing it’s where he’s supposed to be—

Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and it was the worst moment of Buck’s life. He thinks sometimes that he would rather have his leg crushed under a thousand ladder trucks than risk going through that again, but—but running away didn’t make him stop loving Eddie. Dating Taylor didn’t make him stop loving Eddie. Time hasn’t made him feel anything less, if anything it’s just cemented things.

So...so if Eddie is going to have the power to hurt him that badly regardless of whether Buck admits it out loud, if the risk of loss is going to be there anyway...shouldn’t he at least get to have everything? All the good parts?

Don’t they deserve the chance to be happy?

“Buck?” Eddie’s brow is furrowed in concern. “You okay?”

Buck opens his mouth, intending to reassure him, but what comes out is—

“Are you in love with me?” Eddie freezes and Buck resists the urge to panic and take it back.

“Because—” Buck clears his throat. “Because sometimes I think you might be, and—”

“Yes.” It’s quiet, barely a breath, but that single word hangs in the air. Buck’s heart races.

“You could have told me,” he replies. “Why—why didn’t you just—?”

Eddie looks away and Buck catches a familiar look flickering across his face. Doubt, shame, fear—everything that he himself has felt—

Oh.

Blind spots.

He never considered that Eddie might be just as afraid of rejection as he is. He never considered that what’s been so painfully obvious to him, might not have been to Eddie himself.

Buck gets up from the couch, stepping carefully around the mess on the floor until he can kneel down next to Eddie. Eddie, whose jaw is tight, shoulders tense, like he’s waiting for a blow.

“After everything we’ve been through...you still don’t know that I love you?” Buck asks quietly.

Eddie sucks in a startled breath, turning back to look at him, his gaze searching. Buck holds it steadily and waits. It’s not the first time he’s walked out on a limb. But it is the first time he’s had someone else out there with him.

If it cracks this time, they’ll fall together.

“I didn’t think—” Eddie’s eyes close briefly as he clears his throat. “I didn’t think I was enough.”

“You are,” Buck replies. “You’re more than—Eddie—”

“We have a life,” he says when he can get his thoughts in line. “We built a life. Together. Even if we didn’t say that was what we were doing, it’s what we did. So, maybe—maybe we can try being a little more honest about what we want while we’re living it? I don’t—I don’t want to waste anymore time.”

Eddie looks down—then, he reaches out slowly for Buck’s hand, his fingers finding the spaces between Buck’s and slotting in.

Buck squeezes gently. Eddie squeezes back.

“Okay,” Eddie agrees. “Let’s try that.”

Buck does pluck the tinsel from Eddie’s hair, but when he tosses it away, his hand comes right back, fingers sliding into the strands to keep Eddie still. Eddie’s eyes are dark in the dim light, but his lips curve faintly up as Buck leans in.

Kissing him feels like coming home.

#chapel writes #buddie #buddie fic #911 fic #evan buckley