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leejihoonownsmyheart · 6 months

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OKAY WELL SINCE YOU RESPONDED TO EVERY ASK, I GUESS I DIDN'T ANSWER YOURS BACK IN NOV 9??? I AM SO SORRY I LITERALLY THOUGHT I DID

woozi as ur senior thesis would be SO funny because like...imagine being a professor and seeing an essay/project all about a genius kpop man 😭😭😭

IM A RAVENCLAW ACTUALLY?????? how did you KNOW....are you stalking me... ALSO WHATS UR HOUSE??

he may be the mc's tree but you can always climb him in your dreams...

O2O?? ILL CHECK IT OUT...if it has a happy ending NO CDRAMA RECS BUT I REALLY REALLY REALLY LOVE BLOODHOUNDS SO DO GIVE IT A CHANCE

ur anime con pics are SOSOSOSOSOSO CUTE!! I LOVE SEEING PEOPLE NERD OUT AND BE PASSIONATE ABOUT THE THINGS THEY LIKE

idk if he's a sub but me personally i like guys (like seungcheol) who have a lot of like passive(?) dominance if that makes sense?? like they exude this dominant energy irl (and in the bedroom but whatever HAHAHAH)

plot twist! i dont like him anymore!! i feel like he's just bread crumbing me and i'd honestly rather be friends with him atp

OKAY IF YOU ACT SELF-CENTERED AND YOU PULL, THAT MEANS YOU'RE PULLING SUB MEN....IF THATS UR HOPE THEN YOU'RE DOING GREAT BRIE THATS EXACTLY HOW YOU PULL SUBBY MEN

omg wait why are you dropping out? are you okay (like not in a condescending way, just checking in cuz you are important!!)

WAIIIIIIT (omg dino reference) WHAT CHRISTMAS MOVIES DO YOU HAVE TO WATCH EVERY YEAR PLS SHARE

NO. INSTANT MASHED POTATOES??? WHEN YOU HAVE ACCESS TO REAL POTATOES AND GARLIC????? she should be JAILED...but im sure she has a good reason mwahahah your mother must be a very nice person

SCALLOPED CORNNNNNNN OH MY GOD?? INVITE ME TO UR THANKSGIVING BRIE ID WANT TO EAT ALLLL THAT STUFF

WELL IM SURE SOME GUYS AT WORK HAVE GOTTA BE INTO YOU............

don't ever apologize for late responses!!! i enjoy every message i get from you too (ditto. lol. nwjns. i have brainrot) SO ITS OK!!!

-someone who missed you and hopes that you're OKAY (🫨 anon)

NOVEMBER OH MY GOD ITS LITERALLY OKAY THOUGH THAT WAS BASICALLY THE LAST TIME I RESPONDED ANYWAYS

I fear that is a senior thesis we deserve but will never behold…

I JUST KNOW YOU… WE’RE BONDED… YOU CANT TELL MY HOGWARTS HOUSE??? 😨😨😨

Oh 🫨 anon, I do not partake in stories with unhappy endings (… willingly) SO DW AND I WILL GIVE BLOODHOUNDS A CHANCE IF I REMEMBER AND I WILL TRY TO REMEMBER

I love anime cons… surrounded by mutual losers… ACTUALLY KINDA FUNNY STORY. When i was at the con they were playing this episodes of animes airing right now and we watched this one cause it had a funny title: I’m Giving the Disgraced Noble Lady I Rescued a Crash Course in Naughtiness, and we’re watching it and it’s pretty funny and there was this one scene where something happened to the male lead and you know how in anime they have like tiny like unrealistic things happen but we all know it’s just expressing the characters embarrassment or shock and no one can actually see it? Well he got shocked and completely turned into stone and then turned into dust and we’re all sitting there like 🙂 AND THEN ONE OF THE CHARACTERS CHIDED HIM FOR TURNING INTO DUST TO TRY AND GET OUT OF THE SITUATION AND EVERYONE LAUGHED SO HARD and i had an out of body experience where i was like this anime and joke are for such a niche audience, and oh my god we are a bunch of losers 😂

NO I TOTALLY GET WHAT YOU MEAN BY PASSIVE DOMINANCE.. like cheol… 🤭 GOOD FOR YOU DROPPING HIS ASS. YOU DESERVE A WHOLE LOAF OF BREAD NOT JUST THE CRUMBS. FUCK HIM!!! LOSER!! HE SUCKS!!

OH FUCK BUT 🫨 I DO NOT WANT TO PULL SUB MEN. I WANT TO DOMINATED. PLEASE. I WANT TO BE PUT IN MY PLACE. HELP ME 😭😭 TAME ME LIKE A BRAT IDK-

Hmm, i just wasn’t going to class cause i have really serious sleep problems. Like, i can’t sleep at night and i’m already on trazadone which is supposed to help me sleep but doesn’t work right. So james prescribes me ambien too. I tell him my anxiety is going even crazier than usual he prescribes me clonazepam. So now I’m taking ambien, trazadone, and clonazapem for sleep. I’ve always been really overly fatigued during the day but now i just can’t wake up, at all. I am sleeping till five (ball-park) no matter how many alarms i set or when i go to sleep. So i’m sleeping through class and being late for work. So he takes away my clonnie and my PRECIOUS ambien, and now i’m on Laraxpem? lonazepam? And i’m actually not tired all day again! But i am not falling asleep at night 🙃 and also, i am still way too fatigued way too early in the day (i woke up at 1:00 and i was dead tired by 7:00). ANYWAYS. I might do a sleep study soon so. We’ll see how it goes.

Uhm, uh, the princess switch movies, 12 dates of christmas, A christmas kiss, Dash & Lilly (not a movie), A cinderella story (the christmas one), Christmas Cupid…. There’s more uhm but i can’t think of them rn.

No… don’t make excuses for her laziness…. If she is willing to ignore her crying, child pleading for real potatoes then she should be JAILED.

WELL NOT RIGHT NOW I DONT THINK. I HOPE. I CANT HANDLE GUYS AT WORK LIKING ME. I LITERALLY SUCK WHY. AND IM NOT??? THAT??? PRETTY??? LEAVE ME ALONE.

DITTO BY NEW JEANS IS MY FAVORITE BY NEW JEANS I LOVE DITTO

#i am not okay 🫨 anon #but that is okay #I hope YOU are okay #b: 🫨 anon

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kyber-kisses · 4 years

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I, Alone (Part 8)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Wanna start from the beginning? Here is the Masterlist!

Warnings: more mutual pining, more angst. . . Maybe a dash of fluff. A tear might be shed who knows.

Summary: With the reader continuously trying to leave the bunker, Dean decides it time to try and get some answers.

A/n: Its finally here babes! Thank you all for being so patient as I write this, the final chapter should be up next week. I hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated. (gif made by hunenka)

“Are you sure?”

“Yes Sam! Of course I’m sure!” Dean snapped, slightly throwing his arms up as he stopped his pacing to look up with wide eyes. “It’s her, I know it is.”

“Dean, as much as I want to believe you-“ Sam began, taking a deep breath before looking to his side at Cas. “We have to be careful. . . I mean, she attacked you.”

“I was keeping her from leaving.”

“And since then she’s tried to get out three more times. She’s insistent on getting out of here.”

Dean chewed on his upper lip, before looking towards the hallway. Your muffled yells and sounds of banging fists echoing through the space. After having passed out in his arms, you woke up and immediately tried to leave. Again. . And again- up until the point where Cas had to knock you out and lock you in one of the spare rooms.

Cas and Sam turned their heads in unison towards where Dean had chosen to cast his gaze. “I’m kinda surprised she hasn’t ripped that door off it’s hinges yet.”

“Yeah, well it’s probably only a matter of time. Chicks strong as hell. Knocked me flat on my ass the first time she tried to leave.”

“And you still don’t know who she is?” Cas spoke up, eyebrow raised as he turned back to look at the older Winchester.

“For the millionth time, no. All I know is that she’s the person I’ve been missing.” Dean sighed. He resumed his pacing, but only for a moment before sucking in a breath. “I’m gonna go try talking to her.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? You literally just admitted she’s super strong.”

“Yeah, but she also still hasn’t eaten anything. She’s still recovering from whatever the hell happened to her before you brought her here, Cas.” Already making his way across the room, he didn’t bother looking back at his brother and friend. “I’ll be fine.”

Your yelling only got louder the closer he got the room, along with the clear sound of your fists striking the door, the wood rattling with every impact. On the other side you were a panting and rage filled mess. Your fists tender from hitting the solid wood so many times. You had to get out of here. You had to keep them safe. Keep Dean safe.

“Fucking- let me-OUT!” You growled, stepping back and readying yourself to slam your shoulder into the door. Maybe you could bust it open that way. “Fucking- Winchesters-“ you panted, taking a running start. Unfortunately you were only a step away from the door before it swung open and you were skidding on your feet before colliding with a solid figure.

Dean let out a light oof as you connected with him, stumbling back a step. And as quickly as you collided with him, you were scuttling back, taking quick steps backwards with wide eyes until the backs of your knees hit the bed and you fell.

Dean froze in the doorway once he re stabled himself, the look of fear on your features confusing him more than anything. He attempted to take a step in but stopped when you shuffled back further onto the bed. Holding up both hands to show you he meant no harm, he took a deep breath.

“Woah, hey. I’m not gonna hurt you. I just wanna talk.”

“I know.”

You weren't afraid of Dean. That was impossible. You just needed to put distance between you. If the deal went sour because of you being here- god you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself.

“Just let me leave. That’s all I want.”

“Okay, I get that. I know- but we can’t just yet.”

“Why not?”

“Well for one, your still pretty busted up from when Cas found you- and two, we have some questions.” Dean tried, this time successfully taking a step into the room when he saw you slowly relax. You couldn’t stop your eyes from glancing towards the open door, which Dean backtracked to shut for good measure.

“We?”

“Well. . . More like I. But that’s not the point.”

Narrowing your eyes in confusion, you leaned back against the headboard. What types of questions could they possibly have for you? They didn’t have a clue as to who you were. There was a foreign look in all their eyes when they looked at you. . . Except Deans was less. Every once and awhile you would see a glint of familiarity in his eyes. But it was gone as quick as it had come.

The words left your mouth before you could stop them. “Do you know who I am?”

The hunter paused in his steps, pursing his lips slightly before answering. “No. . . But I think I’m supposed to.” He breathed, finding it to be increasingly difficult to tear his eyes away from you.

You were so familiar. He felt it in every fiber of his being, every nerve and cell. He didn’t know how to explain it, but just being near you brought him a sense of easiness. Calm. Like when two sides of a magnet are finally reunited. No tension. Just connection.

“What’s your name?”

Instead of an answer, he only saw you turn away from him. You were trying to hide the tears in your eyes, any sliver of hope you might have had before that he know you was now gone. For a moment all you wanted was to go home, and then you realized you were there and it still didn’t feel right.

Lost. That was what you felt.

“Doesn’t matter.” You breathed, directing your attention towards your hands. Look at anything but him, Y/N. “You should go. I’d like to be alone.”

All Dean did was nod. His shoulders dropping slightly before backing out of the room and closing the door behind him. A moment later there was a soft click, telling you he had locked you in again.

Home sweet home. . . If only.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

The bunker had grown quieter since Deans sudden visit to see you. Your banging and yelling had stopped, drowning the three in a sudden silence as they sat in the kitchen, Dean occupied at the stove.

“She didn’t even give you a name?”

“Nope. It was like she actively avoided it. I don’t know what to tell you man.” Dean shrugged,his back still turned to his brother. “All I know is she clearly wants to get out of here. . . And no, I don’t know why either.”

Glancing over at the clock on the wall, Dean debated whether or not to check in on you again. When he had last gone to see you it was barely noon. Now it was almost ten at night.

“Maybe we just need to give her some space.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Letting out another sigh, Dean pulled open the fridge, clearly in search of something. “But I don’t think that’s it. She may have told me she wanted to be alone, but I don’t think that’s true. If anything I think she just needs someone to talk to- hey do we have any tomatoes?”

Not giving it too much attention, the younger Winchester shrugged. “I don’t know. Anyways, how could you possibly know that?”

“I don’t know, Sam! Okay?” Throwing his hands up once more, Dean continued to finish his task at hand. “Call it a gut feeling? I know her. . . I mean I don’t know her- but you get my point.”

This time Sam turned towards the angel besides him. “You didn’t find any ID or anything on her when you found her?”

“No. Only her and the clothes on her back.” Cas shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Don’t worry about —“ Sam trailed off, looking around Cas to see Dean disappearing around the corner. “Where the hell is he going now?”

Dean was in front of the door to your room once again before he even realized it. Only catching his action after knocking on the wooden frame. The brass numbers staring him down like so many times before. He waited a good ten seconds before unlocking it and slowly easing it open.

You hadn’t moved from your spot since he had last come in, your back still resting against the wooden headboard. When the door eased open, it was only then did you look up. It was refreshing to see him actually there, and not just in photos.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Hesitantly stepping into the room, the hunter suddenly handed over a plate. “I know you haven’t eaten in awhile, so I made something to help fill you up.” Taking in your confused eyes he sucked in a breath. “But you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want. I’m not sure it’s something you’d even like.”

“No- it’s okay.” You butted in, leaning foreword on your knees to take the plate. “. . .You can sit down if you want.” You waved towards your desk seat. For a moment Dean was frozen and then he was pulling out the chair and sinking down into it.

“It’s uh- it’s grilled cheese. Nothing fancy.”

That was the first time Dean saw you smile. It wasn’t a big toothy one by any means. It was closed lipped and soft, but nevertheless beautiful.

Looking down at the plate, you peeled apart the two halves of the sandwich. “Dark rye and muenster-“

“With tomatoes.” Dean added, the two of you speaking in unison. Your words died quickly on your lips as you looked up to meet his gaze, the two of you clearly startled.

How could he have possibly known you liked this?

“Sorry. If you want something else I can go-“

“No! No, that’s okay. It’s just- this is one of my favorites.” You smiled again, and out of sheer habit you were pulling apart the sandwich and passing half of it over to him before you could even register what you were doing. There was a slight hesitation from him before he reached out and accepted it, his eyes staying glued to you.

“We know each other, don't we?”

You paused to swallow your first bite before slowly nodding. The one small action making Deans heart do a back flip. He was right. It was you. He wasn't going crazy.

“And are we-“

“Friends? Yes.” You nodded, brushing a crumb off your lip.

Okay, so maybe his heart didn’t do a back flip at that. With everything he was feeling when he looked at you, he didn’t understand how the two of you could just be friends.Maybe you didn't like him like that.

“We’re best friends, actually.” You breathed, suddenly finding the crust of your sandwich much more interesting than the jade eyed Winchester. Everything in you wanted to blurt it all out. Tell him how you were head over heels for him- but you kept it reined in.You didn't need to make this more complicated and heart breaking than it already was.

“What happened? Why’d you leave? Why don’t I remember you?” The words came falling out of his mouth at a rapid pace as he leaned forward in the chair, desperate for answers.

“Woah, slow down. I never said I was gonna fill you in on my grand adventures.” You swallowed again, dropping the small portion of your sandwich that was left back onto the plate. Brushing the crumbs off your hands, you immediately found them moving to your pockets out of habit. . . only to pause when you realized you didn’t have your jacket.

Dean noticed your change in demeanor immediately, your hands patting down your sides as your eyes frantically bounced around the bare room.

“You okay?”

“My jacket. Where’s my jacket?” You quickly asked. How had you not noticed until now that your jacket was not with you? You had been here almost two days. “I need my jacket.”

“Okay, okay. Calm down.” Dean spoke softly, rising from his seat before setting down his half of uneaten grilled cheese. “I think it’s in the war room. I can go get it.”

As Dean left the room, you sucked in a breath. You didn’t care about all your other belongings that were probably still sitting in that bed in breakfast in Spain. It was the jacket that you cared about, and what it held.

Dean came back a moment later, the hunter handing it over to you silently. Quickly snatching it away, you brought it close. The canvas material was a deep green, and it had been a gift from Dean for your birthday years ago. Flipping it over in your lap, you quickly let your hand feel the inside before finding the well hidden pocket you had sewn into it and tearing it open.

Dean stood at the foot of the bed, watching you curiously as you dove your hands into the fabric of the jacket. A moment later you let out a sigh of relief, your hand pulling out what looked like a bunch of photographs. You flipped through the stack to make sure there was no damage. Once you were satisfied you let yourself take another breath.

“You mind telling me what going on?”

You had almost forgotten he was there. His voice making your head snap up. Everything in your better judgement was telling you not to say or do anything- but your heart took control and before you could stop yourself you were extending your hand and the photographs clutched within. They were your most prized possession these past two years, it’s why you had kept them so close- but now it was time to give them back to their rightful owner.

Dean was cautious as he reached forward, taking the photos from your hand. “What’s this?”

“Memories.”

Taking his eyes away from your he looked down at the photo at the top of the stack. It was of you, him, and Sam. The three of you leaning against the side of the impala, wide grins and all covered in dirt. It felt familiar.

He went through the stack slowly, eyes taking in every inch of inked paper and the memories they held. Some made him chuckle while others for some reason made his eyes sting with unshed tears.

But it was the last picture that made his breath catch in his throat. He wasn’t in it, and neither was Sam or Cas. It was just a side profile of you. Your hair was scattered across your face, clearly telling Dean it was windy on the day it was taken. Your eyes squeezed shut to block out the sunlight as you laughed. Out of everything in the stack, that one had to be his favorite.

And then it hit him like a truck. A wave of pain ripped through his skull and he found himself dropping the pictures, the hunter stumbling back out the open door way as his hands went to his head. A clip show of images flashing through his head as he slammed into the wall of the hallway.

And then Sam was there, Cas close behind as he rushed to his brothers aid, his hands going to his shoulders. “Dean!”

It was as if the photographs were conduits for his memories, because they all came back at once. Everything about you came back at once, like a tidal wave bearing down on him. After a moment, the pain slipped away and the hunter was gasping in air, not knowing he had been holding his breath.

“Dean?” Sam spoke up again, eyes filled with worry as he took in his brother. Dean only batted his hand away, his back still leaning against the wall as he looked through the open doorway with glassy eyes to find you standing at the foot of the bed, your expression similar to that of Sams and Cas’s.

There you were. His missing person. His-

“Y/N?”

SPN Taglist: (Still Open)

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda @jordangdelacruz @orphiceseum @andthatsmyworld @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler @heyyy-hey-babyyy @supernaturalenchanted@emptycanvasposts @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo @xoxoaudreymarie @greenarrowhead @mrsjenniferwinchester @mysticalfuncollectorus @brebolin @biahblue @noahandthegiraffe @hhiggs @mila-dans @mrsmaybankhere @malindacath @littleagxs @deanwanddamons @idksupernatural

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester series #spn x reader #SPN #bi-danvers writing

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bakugohoex · 3 years

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I’m good thank you!! I’ve been reading jean fics that were written for his birthday and ma’am yours was just 🤤🤰🏾LIKE PLEASE GOD ALL I WANT IS JEAN KIRSCHTEIN TO BE MY BOYFRIEND IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK.

So yeah that’s me in a nutshell. I haven’t cried over the last chapter yet because it hasn’t hit me properly but I do feel sad, you know? Maybe when the final volume gets released, isayama will give us some crumbs of anything: extra drawings, background info etc.

Oh, forgot to mention I actually managed to finish watching bnha s1-4 and was able to start watching s5 as soon as it aired and HAWKS IS SO SEGGSY. SO IS NATSUO. My brain is a bit blank atm but I think there was a few more characters that I drooled over. OH- MIRKO. I WANT TO BE HER. SHE LOOKS SO GOOD AND COOL

-🐈‍⬛

hehe thank you so much my lovely, id been meaning to write nsfw with a camera for jean for ages and i’m just so glad you enjoyed it ☺️ NO FUCKING SAME I WANT THIS MAN TO BE MY BOYFRIEND RIGHT NOW, FUCK THE REST OF REAL MEN GIVE ME JEAN NOW 😭

aww yeah i think i cried more tears of joy then anything else it wasn’t very like sadness at it’s end because like there’s always the anime left and i never properly read the manga so once i do i think the shock will come that it’s over then 😊 yeah i get that though like i think once everything finally comes out out it’ll hit yah

omg wait you have please it’s good isnt my baby bakugo and shinso, my true loves 😭 PLEASE THOUGH HAWKS BE LOOKING SO GOD DAMN FINE IN THESE EPISODES AND OMFG NATSUO CANE OUT IN THE BLEW SHIRT AND I BECAME A SIMP FOR THIS MAN 🥰 PLEASE MIRKO IS WHAT I DREAM TO BE ONE DAY, overall a simp for everybody

#bakugohoex #ask ria #🐈‍⬛ anon

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ackmate · 4 years

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May 30

I hope that everyone rioting will stay safe and alert... It's a hard time for black people in the us and even everywhere else.

I remember just a few days ago I was going to the post office and I caught this asian man who started recording a black family just standing by the post office,,, like what are you doing???

I just finished journaling for today. I planned long until december and I'm excited but it also feels like the months will pass by quick.

I think the money i'll get from the govt ill donate to the people struggling rn. Like a part of me reaaally want to splurge and buy like switch and shoes and clothes but,,,,,idk. Like when im broke sometimes and cant buy foods id keep thinking that there's someone rich out there with an abundant amnt of money and if i could just have a crumb of it id be able to feed myself. Pay my bills.

So i want to give the blessing to them. I mean i can still afford a switch even without the money anyway. But also it gives me a perspective of how a lot of money will make u feel. It's easy to give in and just be like "well it's my money. Im not hurting anyone" its so easy to sit back and be in my safety bubble.

And idk if god will pay me back because god is an u fair bitch who does nothing but give us suffering!!! Lol,, im trying not to care about it too. But i believe money, blessings, should be spread around in a cycle...

so ill try to give more, and more, and more.

#diary #blog #personal #log #routine #day #sad

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flamminghotweedos · 5 years

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A’s Writing Prompts!Reblog or like if you wanna use these, they aren’t too original! But I can never come up with full imagines/drabbles so message me what you wanna read and I’ll try to deliver!

1. “That’s starting to get annoying”

2. “Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

3. “You can’t just sit there all day!”

4. “I’m too sober for this.”

5. “I’m not here to make friends.”

6. “I need a place to stay.”

7. “Well that’s tragic.”

8. “You’re seriously like a man-child!”

9. “You can’t banish me! This is my bed too”

10. “The ladies love a guy who’s good with kids.”

11. “Dear diary, I met the love of my life today”

12. “She’s hiding behind the sofa.”

13. “I lost our baby.”

14. “They’re so cute...when they’re asleep.”

15. “I’d kill for beer...literally.”

16. “You’re getting crumbs on my bed!”

17. “Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion!”

18. “What’s the matter sweetheart?”

19. “You’re satan.”

20. “I don’t want to hear your excuse! You can’t just give me wet-willies!”

21. “I’m bulletproof...but please don’t shoot me.”

22. “Did you just wink at me?”

23. “Do you really need all of that?”

24. “It’s six o’clock in the morning, you aren’t having vodka.”

25. “I swear I’m not crazy!”

26. “The only way that would be a worse plan is if it came out of (insert character)’s mouth.”

27. “No. Regrets.”

28. “How drunk was I?”

29. “How is my (insert significant other) more badass than me?”

30. “Be you. No one else can.”

31. “I haven’t slept in ages.”

32. “I locked the keys in the car.”

33. “Are you sure that’s the decision you want to make?”

34. “You work for me.”

35. “Take your medicine.”

36. “They’re monsters.”

37. “Welcome to fatherhood.”

38. “Why can’t you appreciate my sense of humor?”

39. “It’s your turn to make dinner.”

40. “The kids...they ambushed me.”

41. “Sorry isn’t going to keep my from kicking your ass!”

42. “Stop being so cute.”

43. “I feel like I can’t breath.”

44. “You need to see a doctor.”

45. “You’re getting a vasectomy. That’s final.”

46. “It was a joke! Baby I swear!”

47. “Dogs don’t wear clothes!”

48. “Welcome back. Now fucking help me.”

49. “If you can’t sleep...and I can’t sleep...that obviously means we have to have sex.”

50. “Here, take my blanket.”

51. “You’re bleeding all over my floor!”

52. “I’m not wearing a dress!”

53. “I’m not wearing a tie!”

54. “I don’t want you to stop.”

55. “I want one.”

56. “Don’t argue, just do it.”

57. “Please put your dick away!”

58. “Enough with the sass.”

59. “Don’t give me that look.”

60. “You want me to give it back?”

61. “Make me.”

62. “Like what you see?”

63. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

64. “We’re in public...ya know?”

65. “Once I start I might not be able to finish.”

66. “You’re in trouble now.”

67. “First one to make a noise loses.”

68. “This is mine. So is this. And this. And this. Especially this.”

69. “Don’t kink shame me!”

70. “I’m going to go put clothes on before I ‘distract’ you again.”

71. “Just let me finish this and I swear to you I’ll go down on you until you cum three times.”

72. “If you distract me one more time, you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

73. “Want some help?”

74. “Are you listening to me?”

75. “Yeah no, I was too busy undressing you in my mind.”

76. “What’s my name?”

77. “Sorry...just the noise you just made was...really hot.”

78. “Who said it had to be on a bed?”

79. “Yeah...yeah he’s/she’s 100% an innocent little...bean.”

80. “How do I look?”

81. “I’m sure I can get some kind of sexual gratification if I just stare at them...hard enough.”

82. “Don’t ruin my sofa.”

83. “I’m gonna strangle you.”

84. “Oooh kinky.”

85. “You look a bit tied up. Want me to come back later?”

86. “Those two are like...rabbits or some shit.”

87. “Cause if you did, we’re having sex. Right now.”

88. “Do you think they can hear us?”

89. “Yes! We can!”

90. “Did you just trip?”

91. “You look sexy already. Now stop before you hurt yourself.”

92. “God you’re so cocky...I love it.”

93. “I’m gonna need a safe word before you pull shit like that again.”

94. “Why did we think this was a good idea?”

95. “Where did you get a baby?”

96. “It’s not fair!”

97. “How the hell did you of all people come up with that?”

98. “You’re not as innocent as I thought you were.”

99. “Just please...no birds.”

#A'sWritingPrompts #flamminhotweedos #Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #oscar issac smut #chris evans smut #marvel imagines #oscar issac x reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagines #oscar isaac imagine #harry styles x plus sized #writing prompts

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tjkiahgb · 6 years

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Episode Recap: 3.06, “Cookie Monster”

Well, another week running a humorous (in theory) Andi Mack blog. Can’t wait to make jokes about what happens on the show this episode.

Let’s just check the episode title.

Nice, nice. Sounds funny. Lighthearted. I can do something with this.

*cracks knuckles*

Well, let’s get to work--

Oh? Children and guns. Ok. That’s... that’s a little dark.

But, I mean, I can probably still make this fun if I--

Ah, real life tragedy. Ok then.

Well, I certainly hope there’s at least another storyline in this episode that’s like, some kind of wacky, weird Invasion of the Body Snatchers type homage? I could definitely make jokes about that.

*crosses fingers*

Our episode begins with Andi, Bowie, and Bex at Bex’s place playing the Andi Game, which is where you just say stuff you know about Andi.

Bex is wiping the floor with Bowie by knowing lots of things about Andi like that she doesn’t like any condiments. None? How do you eat french fries? How do you eat tortilla chips? Dry? Who lives like that?

Bex taunts Bowie for losing. Bowie says it’s not fair, Bex and Andi have spent way more time together. I agree, the game is rigged. Just wait until they play the “How much do you know about The Renaissance Boys?” game. Then it’ll be Bowie’s time to shine.

Bex asks whose fault it is that Bowie hasn’t spent more time with Andi and Bowie’s like, it’s yours.

Which is such a valid point that Bex chooses to immediately ignore it and move on.

There’s a knock at the door and Bowie goes to check who it is. Turns out, it’s a tiny old lady whom Bowie refers to as “Mom.” She calls him “Steven” and they hug.

Bex tells Andi that Bowie’s actual first name is Steven. His license that one episode said Bowie, though, so did he change it legally? Why? “Steve Quinn” is a great name for a guitarist. It’s one of those names like Eric Clapton or Jeff Beck where you’re like, “That’s such a boring name, they have to be a good guitarist. They let the guitar do the talking.” Calling yourself “Bowie” is trying too hard. I guess that’s why The Renaissance Boys failed and Bowie’s stuck teaching guitar to some weird father/son duo in the back of a small record store.

Bowie’s mom, Cookie, goes around giving hugs to everyone.

Andi asks if it’s true Cookie lives on cruise ships. Cookie says yes, it’s like living in an apartment where your neighbors serve you drinks in coconuts. And, might I add, you also get the added excitement of knowing that one day your apartment building might sink into the ocean and drown you. So there’s that, too.

Cookie sees the mess they’re living in and offers to make the family dinner.

And dinner she makes, whipping together this...

...out of the stuff she had in her suitcase.

The family tries to figure out how this happened and Cookie says she never goes anywhere without a roast chicken, which is maybe the craziest thing anyone’s ever said on this show. I’d take it metaphorically except she really did literally have a chicken in her bag, otherwise where did this one come from?

And what was her plan if everyone had already eaten a nice meal? Leave the roast chicken just sitting in her suitcase with her clothes? Open the bag every now and then and pick at the meat like a vulture? Her neighbors on the cruise ship must hate her. “Oh God, here comes that lady that smells like chicken all the time. Just give her a coconut drink and she’ll leave you alone.”

Anyway, the family is so amazed to see food not served from a box, they don’t question any of this and sit down to eat.

At school the next day, TJ finds Cyrus in the hallway to ask him if he wants to hang out that weekend with his friends.

Cyrus is delighted to learn TJ has been talking about him to his other friends. I feel that. It’s just nice to be talked about, even if you’re not there. It’s why I leave every party by yelling “Later, suckers!” real loud and smashing a vase.

They agree to hang out and Cyrus calls his mom to let her know he’s been a topic of discussion.

Meanwhile, Buffy and Jonah walk to school. Buffy tells Jonah she likes his skateboard so he gives it to her.

They talk about going to the skate shop that weekend and have a fun time bantering back and forth until Principal Metcalf pounces on them and takes away the skateboard.

He can smell children having a nice time in his vicinity like a fun-killing bloodhound.

At Bex’s house, Bex and Bowie return to find Cookie has rearranged the furniture. Cookie asks if they love it and they don’t have the heart to tell her they don’t.

Bex wants to tell Cookie she’s not a fan of her coming in here and moving everything around without asking but then Cookie shows up with cookies like some kind of bribe and suddenly Bex can’t remember what upset her in the first place.

Out in the desert, TJ and his friends ride dirtbikes to off-brand rock n’ roll when Cyrus shows up.

TJ introduces him to his other friends, Lester and Reed.

Hold on one second. Lester? What in the world?

No one’s named their baby Lester in 150 years. In fact, I don’t believe in such a thing as a kid named Lester. Lester is the kind of name you only get as a middle aged adult. You wake up one day after turning 45, you realize you’re caught in a dead-end sales job, your hair is thinning, your face is getting droopy, and your dreams are unrealized. Then you check your wallet and see your ID has changed and it now says your name is Lester. And you accept that. You know why? Because you’re a Lester, and that’s what Lesters do. (Apologies to anyone reading this whose name is Lester, but, in my defense, I don’t believe you exist.)

I’ll tell you what Lesters don’t do: ride dirtbikes to off-brand rock n’ roll songs. Something’s up with this guy.

Anyway, TJ invites Cyrus to ride a dirtbike but Cyrus says he fears everything and that makes Reed laugh. Then Reed wishes to laugh more and he’s like, “Dance, clown!”

And Cyrus is like, I make observational humor. Reed laughs, appreciating that line from a meta-perspective.

Eventually they get Cyrus to try riding and TJ teaches him the in-and-outs of dirtbike usage.

Cyrus rides around on the bike and tries to make it up a hill. After a few failed attempts, and with encouragement from TJ and the others, Cyrus does something physical without hurting himself.

He does lose his shoe, though. However, as Cyrus notes, that’s really his brand at this point. He’s got lost shoes all over the county.

Andi returns home and finds her parents have become pod people.

Cookie has swaddled them and they no longer wish to live outside their cocoons. They want to change the channel but can’t, so Bowie calls for “Mommy.”

This episode’s got an aggressively strange energy to it.

Cookie tries to trap Andi in her web of motherly comfort, but Andi runs off before she can.

Over at Lost Art Skateboards...

...the one-stop shop for all your skateboarding and tattoo needs, Jonah and Buffy check out skate decks.

Buffy notices that Jonah doesn’t ever say “Docious magocious” anymore. Jonah feels like he grew out of it. I might argue there’s no age where docious magocious was ever a reasonable thing to say, but I guess we have different opinions on that sort of thing.

Buffy says she actually used to like when he said it. Jonah’s surprised because she used to make fun of it, but that’s why Buffy liked it.

Buffy spots the tattoo parlor connected to the skate shop and they go to check it out. They see a man there getting a tattoo and don’t immediately recognize him.

Yep, definitely not the profile of anyone they’ve ever seen before.

They talk about how crazy it is to get that many tattoos and whaaa--

It’s the principal?!

Jonah and Buffy run away like they just caught him chopping up a body in the woods.

Andi talks to Celia about her Cookie problem. See, Andi loves everything Cookie does, but everything about what’s she’s doing around the house feels weird and off-putting. Agree wholeheartedly.

Celia decides she’ll go check the situation out.

Back in the desert, Lester and Reed set up watermelons.

Cyrus has a question: are these watermelons for a watermelon eating contest? Love it. Love the thought process.

You ever just want to take a Saturday to go out to the desert with your bros, ride some dirtbikes, and then just chow down on watermelon? And preferably, chow down on that watermelon in some kind of competition of speed? I know I do.

I have a different question: whose job was it to lug three large watermelons out to the desert on their dirtbike? Lester, right? Freakin’ Lester.

Reed’s like, we aren’t eating the watermelons, we’re shooting them. Though, they could eat them after. No need to let perfectly good watermelon go to waste.

But the point is, the watermelons have to go pppffffghhttt first.

Or however you spell that. I feel like I’m missing some S’s in there?

And the only way for the watermelons to dopely go pppfffghhttt is to shoot them. Cyrus wants to know how they intend to shoot them and Reed shows him a bag. Cyrus’s face drops. Why?

Because inside the bag is Grandpappy Reed’s antique revolver from during the war. Not that Reed’s grandpa fought in the war. He also went out to the desert to shoot watermelons. It was a difficult time in our nation’s history and he needed to blow off steam.

Anyway, Reed’s Grandpa handed it down to his son, and then Reed stole it from him, and now it’s here, making Cyrus uncomfortable.

Cyrus goes to TJ to ask if he knew about the gun. TJ did. Cyrus says he’s leaving and he wants TJ to go with him, but TJ can’t bring himself to leave.

So Cyrus heads off alone.

Well that was a deep and dramatic moment. I wonder how we’re going to proceed from here.

Oh.

Andi finds her grandmother wrapped in a blanket, covered in food crumbs, and watching TV. Cookie made her a cookie and Celia was roped in.

Andi wanders into the kitchen and finds Cookie attempting to cut Bowie’s hair. She screams “No!” in panic.

She forces her other grandmother to drop the scissors, then pulls her away from the hair.

Bowie quietly watches this happen, then, without saying anything, reaches down, grabs a lollipop, sticks it in his mouth, and starts happily sucking on it.

Aggressively strange energy in this episode, man. Aggressively strange.

Andi talks to Cookie, who explains she’s being like this because she doesn’t get to see her family a lot so when she does, the mom thing kicks in. Plus being excited to meet Andi and all that.

Cookie says she has a gift for Andi. It’s a picture of Bowie as a baby eating dog biscuits.

This somehow answers and raises so many questions at the same time.

Bowie walks out and asks Cookie if she’s really leaving, and Cookie, like an old mariner, says yes, the seas are a-calling.

Andi and Cookie share one last hug before parting.

At school the next day, Jonah and Buffy dread running into Metcalf.

They hope to avoid him for the entire year. But they should know better than to show fear, because they emit a fear scent and that brings Metcalf right to them.

He admits it was weird for him, too, to run into them. He asks if they want to know about his tattoos and of course they do. He explains they’re all prison based. Or not. They’re based on him just wanting a tattoo. Or other stuff. I don’t know. We’re running out of time in this episode and gotta wrap things up so there’s no time to really get into it.

Metcalf’s like, guess you think I’m pretty cool now, huh? And Buffy’s like, no, you’ve ruined tattoos for me, thanks.

And Metcalf’s like, oh.

Then he rolls down his sleeve and runs off before Buffy and Jonah can see him cry. Buffy and Jonah fist bump in celebration of ruining Metcalf’s day.

Wow, way to make me feel bad for that lunatic.

Cyrus and Andi head to Metcalf’s office. Cyrus has come to tell him about the gun. He’s worried TJ will hate him for this.

Andi argues he could very well be saving TJ’s life.

Cyrus finds the courage to go in, but Metcalf meets him at the door. He invites him in and Cyrus finds a police officer waiting for him.

Cyrus wants to know if something happened, but Metcalf tells him everyone’s ok. The officer just has some questions. About the gun.

And you know the gun is a serious issue because even the police in this town don’t carry them.

Cyrus says he came in here to tell about the gun, but he’s surprised to find they already know.

Cyrus admits to being there and wants to know if he’s in trouble but the episode ends before we can find out.

So many questions up in the air:

1. Will Cyrus be in legal trouble just for being in the vicinity of a gun for a few seconds?

2. Who told them about the gun?

and, most importantly,

3. What kind of person names their child Lester?!

Come back in two weeks to find out the answers, Macketeers.

Except for the one about Lester. The world may never figure that one out.

#Andi Mack #Cyrus Goodman #Buffy Driscoll #TJ Kippen #Bex Mack #Bowie Quinn #Cookie Quinn #Dr. Metcalf #Reed #Lester #Celia Mack #Andi #episode recaps

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gold-from-straw · 5 years

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Enough - ch 9/9

Aaaah! It’s finished!! Thank you SO MUCH for all your lovely lovely messages, this fandom is GORGEOUS and so kind <3 <3 <3 This final chapter is almost an epilogue, written from Erik’s POV, and almost entirely fluffy ^_^ or as close as I get to fluff lol! I hope you like it!

Read from the beginning on AO3 if you like!

Erik felt Charles’s mind whirling with anxiety even as he stood perfectly still with a polite smile on his face. He sighed, and imagined a twisting band of iron tangling itself in the maelstrom of Charles’ thoughts, capturing him, holding him still.

Beside him, Charles jumped, his eyes going wide. He turned and smiled sheepishly at Erik. “How do you do that? It’s like… being hugged inside my own head.”

“I have a very visual imagination,” he said with a smirk. Charles blushed, and tried to look reproachful, but really, with the filthy thoughts flooding his own mind he had no room for such hypocrisy. Erik reached out an arm and tugged him close by the scruff of his neck. “Calm down, Liebchen. My mother is going to adore you.”

“Just because you adore me, doesn’t mean everyone else is so misguided,” Charles teased. Erik heard the thread of pleading beneath his words, in the place where his thoughts still tangled with Erik’s.

The past months had been a relationship like nothing Erik had ever imagined, let alone experienced. It had taken weeks of careful reassurance to convince Charles that Erik really did want him around - in every way. Charles was so painfully desperate to please, and yet his self-esteem was so completely shrivelled, that Erik found himself constructing elaborate revenge fantasies while he worked, scenes where he punched Kurt Marko in the face until his own knuckles bled. Or where he kicked Charles’ Oxford roommate down the stairs for trying to manipulate him into cheating. When Charles came across those thoughts one unguarded moment, he blinked up at him, shocked.

“You know very well I’m not a very nice person, Charles,” he said with a shrug.

Charles thought for a moment, then straddled his knees and pressed close for a hug. “That’s not true, Erik. Your thoughts are not your actions, and nobody’s hurt when you think such things.”

Erik pulled him back to look at him seriously. “You should know that I would do those things if I ever saw you in such situations, though. I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“I know,” he said, blue eyes gazing at him in wonder.

Now waiting in the airport for his mother to arrive, Erik tugged him close and embraced him, resting his chin on his head. Charles retreated from his mind a little, the edge of his telepathy just skating noticeably on the surface. It felt to Erik a bit like holding hands. He knew Charles was there, Charles knew he could dive into the sanctuary of Erik’s mind at any moment, but they were separate most of the time. It was very similar to the way Erik sometimes played with Charles’ watch strap, tightening and loosening it with his power absent-mindedly.

Charles shifted in his hold and sent him a thought he’d picked up off the surface of one of the airport employees. Erik jumped a little to hear a woman’s voice speak straight into his own mind, but squeezed Charles’ waist. “Sounds like Mutti will be here soon, then.”

Charles took a deep breath and straightened out, brushing his blazer down and looking for stray crumbs or creases. He even glanced through Erik’s eyes at himself, and Erik made a point of lingering his gaze on Charles’ arse. “Very funny,” Charles said, trying to conceal a smile, and failing. “I want to look smart, I don’t care what my backside looks like.”

“You look perfect,” he laughed, then looked up, his attention homing in on the feel of a set of slim golden bands he knew so well. “Ah, there she is! Mutti!”

He waved at his mother, and she did a little skip when she saw him across the arrivals lounge, waving back wildly and hurrying towards them. Erik met her in the middle and scooped her up into a spin. “Erik! Oh, my darling, it’s so good to see you! Put me down, you silly boy! What will all these people think if I kick one of them in the knees because my son is spinning me around like this?” She laughed and leaned back as he dropped her back to her feet. “Look at you! So handsome, so tall, where’s my little baby?”

“You know I haven’t grown an inch since I was twenty-three,” he snorted.

“But you will always be my baby, won’t you,” she grinned, pinching his cheeks.

He slapped her away playfully. “Stop, you fool. Come and meet Charles.”

“Ah! Your sweetheart!” She turned to Charles, who was still hovering slightly behind Erik, and switched to English. “You must be the man who has captured my Erik’s heart,” she said, holding out her hand.

Charles gave his best dazzling, harmless-professor smile. He looked perfectly poised, but he’d pulled back just slightly from Erik’s mind, closing himself off and holding himself perfectly rigid. He took Mutti’s hand and to both their surprise, bent over it and kissed her knuckles like some kind of Regency lord. “Mrs Lehnsherr. It’s such a pleasure! And thank you so much for your son.” What the fuck did I just say thank you FOR YOUR SON like he’s a present she gave me what the fuck is wrong with me oh my God she’s going to hate me and we haven’t even got out of the airport and--

The panicked mental stream cut off. Charles straightened up and blinked rapidly. Erik’s jaw dropped, and he quickly snapped his mouth shut and tried desperately to bite his lips to keep the laughter at bay. Mutti looked uncertainly at Erik.

“Well,” said Erik. “You did raise me very well, Mutti.”

Charles’ shoulder slumped and he covered his face with his hands, his ears turning bright red. Erik covered his mouth and shook with giggles.

“Did I misunderstand?” Mutti asked, in German. “Did he say thank you… for you?”

Erik laughed and hugged Charles, kissing him on the head over and over. “Oh, Schatz, you are the best thing in my life.”

Mutti slapped him on the arm. “Well, don’t laugh at the poor boy! See how embarrassed he is! Don’t listen to him, Charles, dear.” She took Charles’ hands gently away from his face, and Erik moved back, still chuckling, to let her closer.

Charles looked utterly miserable, and now Erik had stopped teasing him, he could hear Charles’ mental whispering, almost panicking about how he’d ruined everything and now Edie was going to hate him and think he was an idiot and Erik was going to realise how true that was… Erik’s amusement disappeared and he immediately sent mental waves of apology towards him, trying to cover him in peace and safety.

“Do you know,” said Mutti, holding both Charles’ hands between her own. “When I met my Jakob’s mother, I made the mistake of discussing politics? I didn’t realise she was a staunch conservative, and my liberal views didn’t go down very well.” She dipped her head slightly to meet Charles’ gaze. “Now, you said thank you to me for Erik? Well, of course, he is his own person, and has made himself into the wonderful man you know today, but I am honoured that you give me any credit at all for it.”

Charles swallowed hard and smiled up at her. Erik felt a glow of pride in his mother’s kindness. He used his power to buzz both Charles’ watch and Mutti’s rings affectionately, and pulled them into a hug, one loved person in each arm. “Come on, let’s get you home,” he said. He took Mutti’s suitcase handle in one hand, and tucked Charles under the other arm, and walked them back to the car.

***

She loves you already

, he said into Charles’ mind as they sat in the living room that evening after dinner.

Charles looked up, his eyes wide with hope. How can you know? I don’t want to…

I don’t have to read her mind to know what she thinks of you, he said, smiling over at his mother, who was looking out at the New York skyline outside Erik’s apartment, her hand elegantly folded under her chin, her elbow resting on the sofa. She’s going to love you as much as I do.

He felt Charles’ heart softening at his words, the swell of joy rising up under those negative thoughts that Erik hated so much, the thoughts Charles had been fed throughout his life and that convinced him he was so much less than he truly was.

But now, Charles sent tendrils of thought through Erik’s mind, down his muscles, giving a little tug that showed as a twitch of Erik’s arm, a little pull for permission. Erik grinned. Go ahead, he said, and gave up the control of his limbs. Charles lifted Erik’s arm, making space to press close against his side, draping Erik’s arm around his shoulder before releasing him with a content little sigh.

Mutti cast a look at the two of them on the sofa, a fond smile curling at her lip. Erik smiled back, and pulled Charles closer, breathing a kiss into his hair.

And in his mind, behind a door labelled ‘Surprise, keep out!’, he thought of the ring he had pushed into the very back of his sock drawer. Thought of Mutti’s delighted exclamations when he’d shown her earlier.

“That’s wonderful, Erik!” She grinned the wide, toothy smile he’d inherited. “But why are you showing me?”

Erik looked at her seriously. “Charles doesn’t have a family,” he said. “Or not one worth mentioning. To ask him to marry me would be to ask you to accept another son, and I want to know if you would be willing to love him and support him the way you do me.”

Edie’s green eyes softened with sadness and she put her hand on his elbow. “Oh, Liebling. I’d be honoured. Any person who can command your love and trust like this must be someone truly special. I can’t wait to get to know him.” She stretched up and kissed him on the cheek, and he hugged her tight.

This coming month was going to be the perfect opportunity for Mutti to get to know Charles. Erik already know she was going to adore him. Edie Lehnsherr liked everyone, and everyone liked Charles Xavier. And then, he thought, closing the door to his secret gleefully, he was going to make sure Charles knew that Erik loved him, and his family, small as it was, was all for Charles as well.

#My writing #cherik #Enough #Charles Xavier #Erik Lehnsherr #Edie Lehnsherr #charles/erik #emotional hurt/comfort #fluff #meet the parents

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showstopping-prince · 6 years

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Beginning like any other day Lucian awoke to the sun streaking through large drawn curtains, tired from his night previous having spent most of it tossing and turning, mind whirling away. He was lonely. How long had it been since he shared something intimate with another man past sex... how long had it been since he dared to trust someone that deeply... how long had he pushed his feelings and desires down... to be held... to be healed and cherished and treated kindly and gently... its all he ever wanted... but last time... the static started in his brain once more upon opening his eyes. Letting out a frustrated sigh he pulled himself from his bed knowing Karran’s incessant bitching would be a far greater price to pay then anything his anxiety could cook up for being late. Swiftly he pulled on one of his lavish costumes, dressing himself in skimpy tightly stretched silks and made his way downstairs.

The hotels lobby hummed loudly from guests checking in and out, and the roar of the guest taking breakfast in the performance hall. The smell of fresh food calmed the anxious buzz in his head for just a moment, making his stomach growl. “Whatever Karran can wait.” He huffed heading into the kitchen giving the staff a gentle smile and perusing the pastries, eyes growing wide plucking out a couple of hardy sized scones, the last two remaining, already beginning to munch on one as he headed through the hall to make his way behind the large red curtains covering the grand stage. Karran spotted him right away and surprisingly didn't being his maelstrom of nagging. “Good morning Lucian. Overslept again have we?” he hummed twirling his cane, stamping it lightly on the floor. Before Lucian could even respond Karen continued. “Well no matter i have someone new id like you to properly introduce yourself too. Miguel was it?” he hummed on, motioning to a mammoth of a man currently in the process of carrying a large crate across the stage. Gently setting it down in its proper place he grunted having heard his name and strode over, lifting the worn tank-top that hardly contained anything to begin with up to wipe the sweat from his face. Lucian felt the blood in his body rush to several places in and instant, and for the first time in weeks his mind went blank. “He just started today and will be handling any maintenance work on the stage, should you notice anything needs fixing. Gods only know this place could use the renovation...” that last bit he huffed under his breath. “Well then ill let you get antiquated. Lucian i expect you stretched and ready in ten.” he called out behind him as he walked away likely to go steal some scones of his own.

Lucian attempted to hold eye contact failing miserably as his eyes darted up and down unsure of how it was possible for a man to be so... attractive. the fact he was exactly Lucian’s type, standing nearly two heads above him, built like an iron fortress, AND ever singe perfect curve and crevice of his muscles glowed in a coating of sweat. Did not help. “A-a pleasure.” He choked out quickly wiping his face of any crumbs mentally berating himself for not knowing what to say, obviously flustered. The larger man, unknown to Lucian seemed to be reacting in the same way. “So you are Lucian... You're far more beautiful then they say.” He said in a low confident tone, extending a large hand out, in truth freaking out himself for having blurted that out. Lucian’s face was a deep red now, no stranger to complements from attractive men but... damn. Miguel was. Damn. “You f-flatter me, though i wasn't aware i was the talk of the town or anything of the sort.” he sputtered completely having being striped of his usual demeanor, reaching up and taking the mans hand. It was... softer then he thought it would be... warm and completely encapsulating his own. Lingering they hardly even shook hands as much as they did hold them, realizing they both dropped there arms back down. Completely taken by the man Lucian rushed to think of anything else clever or witty to say. “Scone?” he offered holding up the second pastry hed gotten for himself, shrieking at himself in his head. Miguel’s eyes widened slightly as he gratefully accepted it, sending tingles through Lucian’s arm simply from having there hands brush against one another once more. “Oh. Thank you.” He quietly exclaimed. Quickly the larger man ate nearly half of it in one bite, savoring it as much as he could before popping the other half in his mouth speckling crumbs across his lips. “I hadn't had a chance to eat this morning though i wasn't expecting to have something so...” he paused finding it impossible to keep his own eyes from drifting down over Lucian’s body. “Tasty.” he nearly growled in that same husky tone of his, wiping his lower lip with his thumb, maintaining full eye contact with the blushing dancer. Feeling his heart practically pound out of his chest Lucian gulped fixated on those perfect lips... “It was a one of the many pleasant surprises ive had this morning.. ” he cooed biting his bottom lip. Just as Miguel was about to respond Karran came storming back in. “Lucian!!! Not only were you late for practice but you also took the last two scones of the morning when i specifically asked you to set me one aside!!!!!. I suggest you fork over the second or-...” He fell silent, and defeated seeing that the second scone was no longer in Lucian’s hands. “There it is.” Lucian winched having his attention drawn to his raging dance instructor. “Let...just begin with your first routine.” He sighed beckoning for Lucian to join him. Miguel gave a low chuckle. “Ill need pay you back for the food, but ill not hold you any longer. I look forward to working with you.” He hummed giving Lucian a wink. “Likewise.” He smiled, unable to help himself, already feeling himself be charmed. Turning to head to Karran Lucian added an ever so subtle sway to his hips hoping his new co worker would take notice. He did.

#writing #idk what this is i just really wanted to write #i may change it up later

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ilovemesomevincentprice · 5 months

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Vincent Price as Clifford Pyncheon

The House of the Seven Gables (1940)

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caffeineivore · 7 years

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For RaeRae

This is for @antivanonmytongue as the start of a cheer-up-emo project, as it were.

Title: Bourbon

Author: Thalia

Rating: PG/PG13

'Ship: R/J for RaeRae!

Notes: This is dedicated to our RaeRae because we love her and she is going through hell. Stay strong, lovey! There may or may not be a homage to living in a bar...

As for the fic itself, it does not belong to any ficverse I have. Also, there is a town called Brave, Pennsylvania. However, there is probably not a bar called Hope's Landing in said town. I don't know, have never been there XD!

Thanks much to @antivanruffles for the help with plotting and stuff!!

*-*

It's a slow Sunday on a windy autumn day at Hope's Landing, and so when she walks into the place, looking a bit lost and forlorn underneath the bravado of a stubborn chin and a cherry-red designer trench coat and perfectly applied makeup, she stands out like a flame in the darkness. A dive bar in the tiny town of Brave, Pennsylvania, is definitely not the natural milieu for a young woman such as her, and Jesse Wilson pauses in between polishing a stack of rocks glasses and stares, just for a minute.

She walks in slowly, taking in the scratched and faded green baize of the pool tables in the back, the jukebox in the corner, the dark wood of the bar scarred and grooved from countless glasses rolling towards countless hands. Hair the glossy black of fresh ink spills down her back straight as rain. Manicured red nails clutch a buttery oversized leather handbag with a white-knuckled grip. The black stiletto heels she wears click on the worn floorboards, the sound over-loud in the bar's quiet. She selects a stool at the very far end of the bar and perches on it, and Jesse makes his way over with a faintly curious smile.

“What can I get for you?”

At a closer distance, her eyes are fabulous, a dark blue-violet like a twilight sky. “Maker's Mark, neat.”

He asks for ID, and she pulls out a New York license. The address is uptown Manhattan. “Raeanne Haley. Nice to meet you. My name is Jesse Wilson.”

Her hand is small and delicate and warm, almost swallowed by his, but she nods in thanks when he places the drink in front of her.

“You're far from home.”

“It's about a three hour drive,” she replies, and there's a veiled hint of escape written all over her features. Jesse, to whom Hope's Landing has been home for almost as long as he can remember, is good at getting a read on people, but Raeanne Haley is a very complex book open only a crack and written in very small letters that can't be deciphered at a glance. He's patient, though, and leaves her to her bourbon and thoughts.

The door to the bar opens to reveal a familiar diminutive figure. Earl Flynn is spry for his eighty-plus years, and moves to the bar only after he makes the rounds with all the regulars. He'd once upon a time fought alongside Jesse's grandfather in World War II, part of the same squadron, and he still wears his tags even now, over an ancient Steelers shirt. He accepts a beer from Jesse with a gracious smile and sidles over to the mysterious Raeanne Haley.

“What's a nice girl like you doing at a dump like this, then?” The question would have been rude on a lot of levels coming from anyone else than Earl, but the girl Raeanne does not seem offended, and returns his smile with a tentative one of her own.

“Resting, for the moment.”

“Well, this place on a Sunday surely is restful,” Earl tells her, even as he lifts his beer in a toast. “Now, it's almost too quiet. Not like a Friday or Saturday night, though. But our Jesse can deal with the riff-raff, so don't you worry.”

Raeanne nods and slowly sips her whiskey, and Earl keeps up a steady stream of conversation about the football game playing on the television screen, the prospect of taking his grandkids trick-or-treating on Halloween, coming up later that month, and how long the fine weather would last before it would take a turn for the worse.

“... And we should have some music in here, shouldn't we?” Earl stands and makes his way to the jukebox. “None of these crotchety fellas know how to entertain a lady. Not used to having one hereabouts.” With a wink which must have been rakish once upon a time and still full of charm, he grins at Raeanne, then feeds coins into the machine. Even as low guitar notes come on, Earl calls out for Jesse quite a bit louder than the music.

“Jesse, why don't you have a dance floor in here? Maybe we can get some more customers that way. Especially pretty ladies like her. What do you think?”

The song that Earl selected is 'Lady in Red' by Chris DeBurgh, and the old man couldn't have been more obvious if he tried. Jesse glances at Raeanne Haley in her red trench coat, and smiles wryly. “I don't think that pretty ladies like places such as these, for the most part.”

“Well, you could always change her mind. Come on, come on,” Earl is not to be deterred once he is dedicated to a set path, and apparently his mind is made up. “There's nobody here to bother you. Walter and Frank and Barry don't need anything, and neither do I. You should dance with the girl.”

Jesse glances at Raeanne, who has set down her half-finished whiskey, and even as she stands, he comes out from behind the bar. “He's harmless,” he finds himself telling her, even as she lays her hand in his, impulsiveness warring with what seems to be innate aloofness on her beautiful face. “You don’t have to. But I hope you don't mind.”

She doesn’t seem to, and when he puts his other hand on her waist and pulls her in just a little bit closer, the top of her head reaches his lips. He only has to bend his head a little bit to whisper so that no one else can hear them.

“What brings you here to Brave, Pennsylvania?”

“Oh, just… stopping for a bit,” she answers softly. Her lips curve up in a tremulous smile as those amethyst eyes meet his blue ones. “I’m on an impromptu road trip. My best friend from college lives out in LA. I could just fly, of course, but I hate both LaGuardia and JFK, and… this way I can take my time.” Maybe the whiskey has relaxed her a little, or maybe it was Earl’s somewhat one-sided conversation. “I paid a cabbie a good amount of cash to just drive… drive until I told him to stop. And here I am.”

“You told him to stop here?” Earl, the sly bastard, has another slow song playing even as the first one draws to a close. But Raeanne doesn’t seem to mind, or notice. She’s soft in his arms and smells faintly like expensive perfume.

“I liked the name. Hope’s Landing.” She ducks her head and her hair brushes his jaw. “That sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

“This was my grandfather’s bar, back in the day,” Jesse tells her to the background music of Elvis crooning ‘Love Me Tender’. “Hope was his mother’s name. He named it after her because she was not really a showy type of woman. Homey, I guess. Sort of like he wanted this place to be.” Jesse smiles wryly as their eyes meet. “This is definitely not a showy type of bar, I’ll say that much. Nothing like New York City.”

“New York is overrated,” Raeanne huffs out a breath. “I’m escaping, if we’re being completely honest. Mina’s okay with putting me up indefinitely in LA; I’ll probably have my stuff shipped there soon. I just needed a change.”

Jesse wonders for a second if Mina in LA is Mina Averill, the rising supermodel and actress, then dismisses the notion as preposterous. “Well, you are well and truly not in New York City any more, Dorothy,” he says gently. “I’m not quite sure what the exact population of this town is, but I’m also quite sure that the population of Manhattan itself is greater.”

“Yeah, and when everyone you know is either a lawyer or a politician or a Wall Street exec or some horrible combination of the three…” Raeanne wrinkles her nose, then shakes her head as Elvis finishes and Sinatra takes his place. “I usually stick to wine. I’m not this chatty as a rule.”

“Maybe you just needed to talk,” Jesse says, and then pulls back enough to look her in the eye. “But if you don’t want to drink on an empty stomach, I could probably make you a sandwich or something.”

“Yes, you go do that, Jesse,” Earl chimes in, as though sensing that the dancing has come to a close, and winks again at Raeanne. “Our Jesse is a good boy. His grandfather and I were friends since we were young. Charlie might have passed five years ago, God rest his soul, but he made sure that our Jesse was raised right.”

Jesse leaves the old man to extol his virtues and takes the stairs in the back of the bar up to the apartment on the second floor. Hope’s Landing doesn’t boast a kitchen or serve food beyond beer nuts and pretzels, but he lives right above it, and while turkey and swiss on rye is probably not typical fare for one such as Raeanne Haley, he returns with the sandwich shortly.

“Thank you.” She accepts it, seeming to know that it’s the exception rather than the rule, and gives him a real smile before tucking in. She’s dainty in that ladylike way while eating, but doesn’t seem to care about crumbs or the fact that she’s only got beverage napkins to wipe her mouth and hands.

The night draws on; more regulars mosey on in, including a pair of ancient, tattooed bikers who offer to teach Raeanne how to play pool. She declines, graciously, but seems to have relaxed as the time draws on. In any case, she watches the game with interest, and when the shorter, skinnier biker wins, claps politely amidst the raucous cheers of the rest of them. She’s still there, unaccountably, her whiskey long-gone and her plate empty, when the clock strikes midnight and the lights come on.

“We close early on Sundays,” Jesse tells her as he finishes cashing out. Under the bright lights, she’s even lovelier, with pale skin and flawless cheekbones. She pays for her drink with a black American Express and signs the slip with flowing, finishing-school script. He doesn’t charge her for the sandwich, but even after the last stragglers make their way towards the door, she remains seated, and he cocks his head to the side. “Do you… do you have a place to stay for the night?”

She shrugs, pulls out a cell phone. “I could Uber it to the closest hotel, I guess. I’m sorry. I was having fun.”

And all of the sudden he feels like he’s on the precipice of something-- something a lot bigger and more important than small talk with a pretty stranger on a random Sunday night. He swallows the surge of nerves and clears his throat. “Well, and please don’t take this in a creepy way, but… you could crash here if you want. I live upstairs. There’s a spare room.”

She stares at him for a moment without speaking, so he hurries on. “You don’t have to, of course. I’m not sure if Uber is available out here, to be honest with you. But if you’d like, I could probably also give you a ride somewhere if you have a place in mind.”

And then she smiles. “You sure I could just crash upstairs? You barely know me.”

“Yeah, and you barely know me. But… yeah, I’m sure. I don’t mind. I just have one question.”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Do you like cats?”

*~*

Jesse’s apartment is accessible through the back of the bar, up a flight of stairs, and it is a tidy, open-plan space with two bedrooms, one of which seems to be used as an office with a futon. A small-ish tabby cat darts out from under the coffee table and heads straight for Raeanne’s legs, winding circles around her ankles and staring up with wide, green-and-gold eyes.

“That’s Jim Beam, or JB for short,” Jesse tells Raeanne with a chuckle even as she stoops down to pet the cat. “He’s usually not this friendly. I found him a few months ago as a kitten, hiding out the rain under an empty Jim Beam carton out by the dumpster, hence his name.” Jim Beam apparently finds Raeanne to his liking, because in very short order, he is butting his head against her hand and purring. Raeanne takes a seat on the sofa and the cat hops into her lap, curling up in a ball and blinking slowly in an attitude of contentment, and Jesse grins at her. “He likes you. Anyway, do you need anything? Water? A tour? A t-shirt to sleep in? All of the above?”

She finds herself agreeing to ‘all of the above’, and smiles to herself when she sees the bread bag on the kitchen counter, left untied from when he’d made her that sandwich. Jesse pulls out the futon in the office, but insists that she takes his room instead, fetching fresh sheets and pillows out of a small linen closet and a plain white t-shirt out of the dresser drawer. Jim Beam follows Raeanne into every room, then hops onto the easy chair in Jesse’s bedroom, curling his tail around his feet.

“Shower’s through that door down the hall. And you can probably kick that cat out of that chair to put your stuff,” Jesse says as he efficiently changes the bed-linens. Raeanne exchanges a glance with Jim Beam, and sets her handbag on the bureau instead. She walks up to Jesse just as he finishes straightening up the sheets.

“You don’t have to do any of this for me, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says with a smile. “But, I also know not to subject a lady to a futon.”

That’s not at all what she’s referring to and she’s sure he knows it, but something in his dark blue gaze causes her to acquiesce. She stands on tiptoe, and the jaw that comes in contact with her lips is warm and scratchy with stubble.

“Well, thanks. And good night.”

He lays his hand on her shoulder for a moment, nods, and quietly walks out. Raeanne quickly gets ready for bed and curls up underneath the blankets. The sheets smell like him-- plain soap and detergent, no overpriced cologne, and the pillows are soft. This was not quite what she’d planned when she left New York, but… a smile crosses her face and she stares up at the ceiling and says nothing.

Halfway through the night, Raeanne wakes up briefly to Jim Beam hopping on the bed and curling up on the pillow next to hers. She sleepily runs her fingers over the cat’s soft fur, and lets the purring lull her back to the best sleep she’s had in months.

*~*

Raeanne wakes the next morning to the smells of coffee and bacon and the sound of Ruby Tuesday by the Rolling Stones playing faintly on the radio. Jim Beam meows at her from by the bedroom door, and she follows the cat to the kitchen, padding in barefooted and still wearing the borrowed t-shirt. Jesse’s back is turned towards her as he flips a piece of bacon in the skillet, but he turns with a smile before she even says a word.

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Black,” she replies, and at his gesture, helps herself. Within a few moments, they’re seated across from each other at the cheap dinette set and eating scrambled eggs and bacon as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Jim Beam cannily positions himself at the optimal spot to beg from both of them, and Raeanne is sure that between herself and Jesse, the cat gets away with a good two slices of bacon. Raeanne eats her fill and watches Jesse from underneath her lashes. His hair shines golden in the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, and when he smiles, he has a single dimple in his left cheek. She, on the other hand, looks vastly different wearing no makeup and his t-shirt than her norm, and yet, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Want me to do the dishes?” She gathers her plate and mug and walks over towards the kitchen sink. Certainly it is not a task that she has ever needed to tackle. But even-- or perhaps especially-- a Manhattan socialite knows that something cannot come from nothing.

Jesse says nothing, but before she can reach for the sponge, gently takes both of her hands in his, and pulls her away. His fingers are callused and rough against her manicured ones, and he doesn’t let her go even when they’re a few feet away from the sink. She finds herself staring up at him in wonder and a little bit of consternation.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

The smile warms his whole face, including his ocean blue eyes. “Because you need it.”

Raeanne’s next breath hitches in her throat, and she stares down at her bare feet for a moment because the kindness radiating from his whole being is warm and almost unbearable, like being a shade too close to a hearth fire. Her toenails match her fingernails exactly, and she takes a deep breath before glancing up again. “Why do you say that?”

“I just know.” A wry, slightly cheeky smile crosses his face. It’s not stubbly like last night, but he still smells like plain soap and detergent with a hint of coffee thrown in now. “You don’t owe me anything, Raeanne.”

Her name sounds smooth and low on his tongue, and when she frowns at what he says, he chuckles. “Well. I wouldn’t say no to another dance. But don’t tell Earl, or he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“I won’t,” she answers, and even as Queen’s ‘Someone To Love’ starts playing on the radio, she lets him draw her close. Without her heels, he sort of dwarfs her, and in this tiny, sun-lit kitchen, it’s even closer and more intimate than last night downstairs at the bar. But Raeanne lets her eyes fall closed as they sway infinitesimally to the rhythm, and her face fits perfectly into the crook of his neck. Underneath her lips, his pulse isn’t completely steady, and that gives her courage.

“Jesse?” Her voice is muffled against soft cotton and warm skin. “How long can I stay?”

The hand at her waist pulls her just a little closer, and his breath stirs tendrils of her hair. “How long do you want to stay?”

She draws back just enough to look up into his face, and lets herself wonder, only for a moment, why it seems so familiar-- why everything from the moment she’d stepped out of the cab until now seems like destiny knocking. But she still manages a quip. “Until Big Bill and Marty teach me how to shoot pool, maybe.”

“Mmm, and are you a quick study?”

She’s close enough to all but count individual eyelashes, close enough to taste that he drinks his coffee black, just like her, but leans in even closer. Suddenly, she knows that she’s not going to LA after all, though Mina would probably squeal over it later, much later, on the phone once she got through the army of assistants and minions. Raeanne smiles, and answers his question just before she lets her lips brush his as though coming home at last.

“Yeah.”

#R/J #antivanonmytongue #senshi/shitennou #sailor moon #fanfiction #fanfic #The RaeRae Project

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

More than meats the pie (Shattiana) ~ Hobnob

A/N: More than meats the pie is a spin off of the critically acclaimed series, Trixie’s day out. I always related to the character of Sharron Needles in the first edition, she only had 2 lines but god they were powerful. As someone who regularly pops into greggs for a pastie here and there, this fic gave me the shivers.

It was the night of Halloween. Sharron needles stood behind the counter of greggs. It was chucking it down and some local roadmen were sparking a weed up outside.

This was her favorite time of year. They sold spooky confections like creepy cupcakes, bat biscuits and sharons personal favorite, monster mallows.

Yes. It truly was a night of magic in the greggs bakery. Sharron laughed jiggling her jaw.

She checked her casio sports watch. Time for a new batch of steak bakes!

Just as she was adding bones to the spoo0ky savoury treats a customer busted down the door, slamming their 3 hands on the table.

It was the manager of camden greggs, Miss fame! She had a few stab marks from a close shave with the roadmen, but other than that, she was positively stunning.

“Sharron stfu for a moment” Fame clucked, panic engulfing her. “Were in real deep shit man. Reeeal deep shit”

“Wott happened?” Sharron inquired, stubbing out her ciggy on a cheese and onion pastie then selling it to blind alan from down the road.

“Over in telford. all the workers died in a pastry related incident” Fame shook her head, pushing over blind alan in a fit of rage. “I need you to get down there as soon as possible”

“Will i get extra pay?”

“No, you’ll work for minimum wage and a slap”

Sharron was only passionate about two things. Partying hard, and greggs. She had to fulfil her duty.

“You can count on me fame! H0h h0h h0h!”

“Cool im going to play bingo with pearl” Fam said leaving. A flock of chickens followed behind her.

Time to put her training into action. Sharon popped on her yellow wellies and booted it down the A45. She was off to telford.

As sharron made her way down the A45, she couldn’t help but notice a car at the side of the road. Much like katya, it was coughing smoke and broken down.

She swerved off to talk to the driver. “Tf its chucking it down m8 what you doing in the middle of the road”

The driver rolled down her window. A disgruntled looking tatianna poked her head out. “Broke doon” she said in a thick scottish accent. “Cann yee fix eht?”

Sharon cracked her knuckles. Of corse she could. Ripping the hood off the car she licked the battery, feeling the machines emotions. This was a troubled vehicle.

“Have you got PPI?” sharron spooked, grinding against the car.

“Asha fooken ppaigh canny shittn bairn” Tattianna spoke elegantly, flipping of a lorry driver.

With one decisive blow, sharon thrusted a yum yum into the exhaust pipe. “The car was just hungry h0h h0h!”

On queue the engine started up. Tatty grinned and slapped sharron on the back. “Fooken gud ladd! Dae ye want ah lift?”

Sharron hmmed, it would save her the inevitable leg surgery of running from camden to telford. “Yeah go on then”

Sharron hopped in the passengers seat. There were some body bags in the back of the car, but she chose to ignore the warning signs. TatterTott stuck on the radio and kate bush was playing. Absolute bop.

The drive was a long one. In hindsight she shouldn’t of worn a discount wich costume from asda, she was sweating like a nonce in a playpark. Tatianna was also in a costume, her white shirt was covered in blood and human hair.

“I like your costume h0h”

“Ach eet aisnt ah costoume lassie”

“Lol”

Finally, after about 7 hours of silence and kate bush playing on a loop, the pair found themselves in telford, looking at iron bridge.

“Ah can taek yee noa further” Tateanna scottished, grabbing the body bag from her back seat. Sharron watched on as she dumped the body off the side of the bridge.

Exiting the car, she made her way over to the local greggs, the only solice in a shithole like Telford. Everyone was either a whore or 5 years old.

Over the horizon shone the beacon. She burst through the door to find all the employees dead, covered in flakey lattice crumbs. “Never eat the lattices” Sharon sighed, kneeling down to shut the eyes of the employees and give them forehead kisses.

She got to work serving customers spooky baked goods. They didn’t mind the dead bodies too much. kids would burst out crying occasionally, but that added to the Halloween spook fun!

After a hard days work sharron was finally finished. Her body could be released into the eternal void.

She locked up shop after dumping the bodies in the dumpster behind the back alley, fist bumping the local ladds along the way. Mickey D, Sammy shank-stain, and dobbin.

She decided to go for a pint, after all, she had no way of getting home on her salary. She stepped into Knob and jockey pub and scanned the surrounding.

A couple of Trinity’s were gathered in a circle playing conkers, and there were some schoolboys beating up the tappie.

From the corner of her eye Sharon spotted Tattiana chugging a dirty pint. She decided to sit by her.

“Ah ah remember yee! Hae did the job goo?” She rambled, grabbing a schoolboys hat and spitting into it.

“Best sales to date. Id be genuinely happy if my body allowed me to be h0h h0h!” Sharon sobbed. “I need a lift home”

“Ach whel thats tea bad the coppers caught me dumpen phi phi o'harahs body oot by iron bridge. I canny leave this puub fer at leahst…” Tattiana checked her casio sports watch “eeight years lass”

“Jinkies” Sharron snaggle-toothed. “Fuck am i going to do then”

“Legend seeys if yech sey phi phi o'hara three tiems in a rooh, she comes back tae life. If yea bring her tea life t’ rozzers will nea want my tight boody inn jail”

Amongst the slurs and poor grammar Sharron thought she could just about hear what she had to do.

She got up and went to the bathroom. Time for…the summoning.

She turned down the lights and looked in the mirror. She whipped out her travel pack of sacrificial candles from Morrisons and lit them. The local schoolboys looked on in horror.

Phi phi o'hara…

Phi phi….. O’ Ooooooo Nghoooh! O’ Phi Hars Hara

Kzoom! Phi phi appeared in a puff of smoke.

“Lol where are we, party city?” Phi phi bitched.

“You are free, shantay you dont stay!” Sharon yelled holding up a holy cross, spooking her out of the bathroom and probably into the main road to get hit by a car.

Sharron sat back down besides tattiana who was absolutely smashed at this point, and in no state to drive. Just completely plastered.

“Okay lehts goo” she chundered, throwing a cheeky fiver at the waitress.

They both got into the car. A job well done. It was around 1 in the morning at this point and they were both sleepy boys.

Sharron had made her minimum wage, and most importantly, a new friend.

“Ahm a convicted criminal”

“Me too” Sharron whispered leaning on Tatty. “Me too…”

#the mention of greggs arouses me tbh -vixen #fame #phi phi o hara #hobnob #rpdr fanfiction #submission #tatianna #sharon needles #sharon x tatianna #crack fic

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jiwonasbae · 7 years

Text

5 Unwritten Romance

Unwritten Romance

(Bobby X Reader X June)

Genre: School, Romance, Smut, Fluff.

Warning: Sometimes Mature Content

Summary: My mom always told me that bad boys, always break your heart, and if I want to start my romantic life, in the university I could make it happen!

You know to be with a cute man who could love me back, but being honest, I’m behind being popular or even cute ( Or that is what I think), so my romantic life hasn’t been that great.

But it seems like my romantic life, will not go as I planned.

Being friends, with handsome men, isn't easy at all.

Words: 2022

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6

READER POV

I Got quite drunk, and I can't remember what happened last night. The last thing I could remember is kissing June, and before that, my mind is just blank.

I try to reach for my phone, and when I turn to find it, it seems isn't there, I try to sit, rubbing my eyes, trying to see, when a headache hit me hard.

Y/N: Oh my god, I barely remembered what a hangover is...

But then I suddenly feel something move under my bed sheets.

What?

I Started to panic, what I have done? I checked my clothes, and I was still wearing my blouse that I used yesterday but I have nothing but just my panties.

I lifted the bed sheet slowly to see what or who was.... when I discovered a sleepy Bobby on my bed.

What? What? What happened?

But then I started to see everything clear, It wasn't my bed, nonetheless my room. What have I done?

He then turned facing me, his face just inches away from mine, I could see his eyelashes and his milky skin, somehow my hand reached his lips trying to touch them, but then he put his arm just in my waist and pulled me towards him, ( Did he see me?) I was breathing, just next to him, and his aroma started to make me feel like hypnotised, I couldn't move at all, but then I started to feel his hard dick against my hips, and my pores started to feel excited just knowing he was this hard, I feel the urge of kissing him.

When I tried to get close to his lips, he seemed to be waking up, I just lie down again pretending to be asleep. Oh my god.

Jiwon: She is still sleeping.

He strokes my hair, and kiss my hair, but his hand traveled to my butt, and give me a hard squeeze. I could feel the wetness hit in.

Jiwon: Damn, she is so sexy, but not yet.

He grabbed his phone and started to dial...

Not Yet? What does that mean? Who is he calling?

Jiwon: Hyung, how is June? Oh, She is still sleeping...

June? What Happened to him?

Jiwon: Yeah don't worry, I will take care of her. See you later.

What happened last night?

He stands and went straight to the bathroom, I could hear the water running, I decided to check his phone, with who he talked? But it was blocked with ID touch, I was thinking to leave, but I don't know what happened, and I am not the kind of person who runs, So I decided to face it.

I sit on his bed, trying to look for my phone, but nothing.

I lost it.

His room seems different of what I could think, it was clean and neat, too much white, just the way I like it?

I Grabbed one of the water bottles next to his desk, and saw a lot of things written, they seemed like lyrics, that would explain the keyboard, maybe he is a musician or something like that.

I pick one of the music sheets, trying to understand what those could mean. I was immersed reading the lyrics, that I didn't notice the water stopped.

Jiwon: Is it that bad?

He says that placing himself behind me, I could smell his shampoo and feel the fresh aroma of his skin just washed, and my body quite like that sensation, his fresh skin against mine.

I said nothing, I was just watching him semi-naked, his torso seemed like it was chiseled by the Gods themselves, only the towel covered what was necessary.

Jiwon: Did the hangover, make you voiceless?

Y/N: No, I just... that, I was reading.

Jiwon: Is Bad?

Y/N: Y/N: In fact, it was quite interesting, Are they songs?

Jiwon: Ideas of songs

Y/N: I see ( Why can't I stop to staring at his body)

Jiwon: Like what you see? Should I remove the towel as well?

Y/N: I should say that Isn't that bad, but keep it. For now.

Jiwon: You didn't say the same yesterday.

He said that while putting some gray pants, he isn't wearing any underwear, I blushed thinking that.

Y/N: Wait, what? Yesterday? What happened?

Jiwon: Relax, nothing happened, I was kidding but it could happen now if you want. Almost happened.

Y/N: Are you sure of that?

While he was drying his hair with the towel but he turned and then he winked at me, and I blushed. But then he offers me some pills.

Jiwon: Take two, will help with your headache.

Y/N: Thank you, in fact, I was dying.

I completely forgot that I was mad at him, for yesterday, I was feeling well, better than I could say. I grab the water and then I swallowed the pills.

Jiwon: Jiwon: You can take a shower, I will lend you some clothes, it seems like you need it.

Y/N: Do I? Wait. Oh yes! I forgot I am just in panties.

Jiwon: You look awesome like that.

I suddenly go to the bathroom, and I see myself in the mirror, my hair seemed a nest of birds, and the makeup that Jane made for me yesterday, was now the makeup of a clown, my blouse was full of strange liquids, oh my god! I turned and see Bobby calm, he was not even laughing.

Y/N: Why you didn't tell me?

Jiwon: About what?

Y/N: About me looking like a clown?

Jiwon: You don't look like a clown, You look sexy in fact, wait I already told you that...

He laughs, he is gorgeous smiling.

Y/N: I am a big mess!

Jiwon: Well I won't say that you look like the prettiest girl, but don't overreact.

Y/N: Well, isn't like this, how I want you to see me.

Jiwon: How is that? I prefer naked if you ask.

Y/N: Nevermind, I will take your clothes, if you are still willing to lend it.

Jiwon: Of course "Cupcake".

I was speechless watching him he said that with a very serious face, but he wasn't even joking. I closed the door and started to undress.

Will he come?

BOOBY POV

Now that she entered the room, I put a shirt over, and go to the kitchen so I can bring her some food.

Yesterday I decided to show her my real self, and not the playboy, she thinks I am, well somehow I am like that too.

Because of yesterday's party, we were alone, although her room was next to ours, she couldn't even talk and her roommates disappeared, everyone just vanished and I don't know where the purse or the telephone is.

I opened the refrigerator and bring some eggs and toasts, and then I started to make some coffee. When I was done cooking, I could hear the water still running,

I bring two mugs with coffee and the breakfast to my room and put some music.

I made the bed, fixed my hair and put my favorite lotion on.

She comes out of the bathroom, and she was beautiful and flawless, with my clothes she looks so sexy, that made my dick twitch.

Y/N: Oh wow! Did you prepare everything?

Jiwon: Yes, of course, come sit, here some coffee.

She is beautiful, and I could say some of my ego inflated, just to know that she smells just like me.

Y/N: Thank you! But can you explain me, please? I don't remember anything.

She said that while eating, she was hungry.

Jiwon: Of course, but first of all, I would like to apologize, it seems like we are not in the best terms.

Y/N: Yeah, I would say that I have been always rude towards you. So I'm sorry as well.

Jiwon: So I will tell you the truth, before our conversation outside the bathroom, I left with Hanbin, to drink some beers.

Y/N: Mmmm ok.

Jiwon: I was having a deep conversation when June called me.

Y/N: June leave?

Jiwon: I don't know what happened with June, he just told me that something happened at home, and he needs to leave. He asked for my car keys, and I went to see him, and give it the keys.

Y/N: What about me? How I ended here?

Jiwon: Mmm you were dancing with this roommate of you, and you guys were dancing like in a stripper place... doing sexy waves and that kind of stuff.

Y/N: I can't believe you, you are lying.

Jiwon: No I am not. In fact, I enjoyed the view as well.

Y/N: So? I guess I drink quite a lot.

Jiwon: Some guys entered to the party and started to dance with you, and I get mad because some of them were touching you.

Y/N: Touching me? Did I allow that? Why June leave me alone?

Jiwon: He told you, but you refused to leave. I couldn't leave you there, so I punched this fucking asshole in the face, and take you with me.

Y/N: What about my roommate? where is she? and who was her?

Jiwon: It was my first time watching them, I don't know her names, but they are with the team, Hanbin told me.

Y/N: Hanbin? How does he know?

Jiwon: It seems they spend the night together.

Y/N: Oh....

Jiwon: I didn't find your purse or anything, and your friends were no seen, so I just bring you here.

Y/N: I see... Those damn things, how they dare to leave me alone.

Jiwon: But you are adorable drunk, you like to dance in a sexy way. I restrained myself of don't do anything to you.

She Blushed

Y/N: Did something happened? Between the two of us?

Jiwon: You kissed me.

Y/N: Did I?

Jiwon: Mmm, yes.

Y/N: Anything else? You know?

Jiwon: You only hugged me all night long.

Y/N: No way! Why didn't you sleep in another place?

Jiwon: Because I only sleep in my bed, and I could share it with you, I don't mind.

I got close to her, and clean with my thumbs some crumbs of toast.

Jiwon:Jiwon: I like you y/n.

I closed the distance, and I give her a sweet peck on her lips.

Jiwon: Please, don't make things hard between of us.

Y/N: What you mean? How can you like me? We barely meet each other, and we already kissed, how is possible?

Jiwon: I don't understand, I get jealous every time I see you with June. I don't like it.

Y/N: I don't know what to say... How can I know that you aren't playing with me?

Jiwon: I can demonstrate that for you, I am not who you think I am. Just give me a chance.

Y/N: I am sorry Bobby, but June, I can't be like that.

I started to got mad, we kissed first, we met first, why June had to meddle.

Jiwon: Listen, I am not saying to start dating with me, but at least give me a chance. We already did a lot of stuff together. we kissed, we slept together. we already fight...

Y/N: Look I am not dating June, but I won't tell you that I don't like him.

Jiwon:: But you like me too.

Y/N: I won't deny it.

I kissed her.

Our mouths were like in perfect synchrony, the tip of her tongue sends me shivers.

Jiwon: Let me demonstrate you, that I can be that man of your life.

GIFTS NOT MINE CREDIT TO THEIR OWNERS

PART 4 PART 6

#bobby #bobby fanfic #bobby smut #sexybobby #ikon #ikonic #iKONisMyType #iKONisComingToTown #ikonsmut #ikon fluff

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yoursatanboyfriend · 7 years

Text

The Ninth Paradigm

Title: The Ninth Paradigm (X) Rating: M Warnings: Heavy themes such as: Non-con/dub-con, PTSD, Manipulation, Child Abuse, Gang Violence, references to depression and self-harm. Summary: When Stanford Pines and Fiddleford McGucket reject an offer from a notorious crime lord, they separate. 3 months later, a private investigator named ‘Bill Cipher’ makes contact with Ford claiming to have been hired by his old assistant. It doesn’t take long for Ford to learn the truth and for Bill to enter his life and bed. But it does take long for him to learn ‘those to whom evil is done do evil in return’ is a specious statement under certain circumstances- specifically ones involving Bill Cipher.

He sits across from Bill, at the table densely engraved with every one of his failures. “Wanna hear a joke?” The demon laughs, tap tap tapping his bloodied-black fingers—Ford feels it inside his rib-cage. “Once upon a time, there was an old man who thought he could redefine the concept of Bill Cipher.”

- Dinner with Bill Cipher, The End.

Stanford Pines was halfway through the sixtieth page of his book when a stranger, a young blonde impeccably dressed young man, seated himself across Ford with a loud “Hey, you’re not gonna eat that, right? Let me take it off your hands.”

In disbelief, Ford set his book down as he watched his scone travel from his plate into the young man’s mouth before he could even formulate an argument.

It was chewed carelessly, swallowed and spat back out in crumbs with a crude, “Thanks Ford.”

“How did you know—"

“I’m Bill. Bill Cipher and I know lots of things.” Bill, as the boy called himself, took a napkin and with meticulous precision, began to wipe his mouth. The slow movement brought Ford’s attention to his lips, and then to his face— a very attractive face. Tan skin with hazel, rather yellow eyes; they regarded Ford with curiosity and triumph, as if the attention was what Bill had sought all along.

Bill reached into his mustard trench coat, and produced a stack of post-card sized photos. He dropped them with a deliberate loud PLOP in front of Ford.

Photos. Of Ford. At work, in public places, in taxi cabs and various other public transport—in his house, in his home. Very intrusive photos; he could not spend even a fraction of a second looking at the ones taken of him coming out the shower. Somehow, he knew this was only a small portion of what the boy had taken, of what the boy had seen. He felt his cheeks burn up, his skin flushing with humiliation.

“What the hell is this?!” Ford fought to keep his voice low, lest he want to draw the attention of nosy bystanders. Disgust curled in his stomach and he suddenly felt nauseous. To be followed and observed like some kind of animal.

“Private investigator. Was hired to keep an eye on you.” Bill pointed two fingers at his eyes and then at Ford.

“This is an invasion of privacy! A breach of my privacy!”

“Nah.”

Shooting the messenger was not the correct choice—Ford knew this, but his anger wasn’t rational; anger itself was never truly rational and he had to remind himself of that. He was a private person by nature. Knowing someone had been watching him like this...had documented it…had documented it with the intention of showing it to another person…who would most likely show it to others. He couldn’t rule out that possibility.

“You okay there, kid? You shut down on me.” Bill interrupted.

“Kid? I’m old enough to be your-"

“I don’t care.” Bill was now drinking his coffee as though it were his own. “In case you’re thinking of legal ramifications…”

“I could sue you.”

“I’m a detective. I’m above the law- and consequences, mind you- but nice try.” Bill gestured Ford’s mug back with a nod, “Want some?”

Ford shook his head, teeth still gritted.

“Ah well, suit yourself. I was lying. About it being a nice try, it was actually awful but you know what? You can make it up to me by buying me lunch.”

“Are you insane?! Who hired you?”

“I don’t kiss and tell. Pass the ketchup there, would you Fordsy?” When Ford didn’t comply, Bill made a swift grab for it himself and began pouring ketchup onto Ford’s plate, spelling ‘F O R D’ out in the red.

“What’s wrong with you? Why are doing this? This—why are you here? Did you get what you wanted? Is that it? Your job’s done and you’ve decided to taunt me? Harass me?” Had the boy gotten the photo he needed? And now sought to mock Ford?

This was all too much. But they were in public, and Ford had to contain himself. The boy had chosen a wise time to approach Ford– it was a calculated, albeit basic, move.

Bill, seemingly unaffected by Ford’s outburst, took another sip of the bitter coffee. The lack of reaction brought a jolt of powerlessness through Ford, but he would not and could not show weakness. Blackmail was a potential outcome as well, he could not rule that out, and should he falter here, he could be looking at a lifetime of being leeched off.

Trust no one. Especially those who held any sort of power over you.

“You’re unbelievably boring, but you get this cute little scrunch-” before Ford could react, a hand was caressing the side of his nose. “Whenever you read something tantalizing, when you’re in the zone. The Ford zone, I like to call it.”

The hand left as quickly as it came, and Bill was now smiling peculiarly. Now that Ford thought about it, the boy had been smiling non-stop; the only changes were subtle contractions of his eyes.

“You seem confused by this. I guess you don’t get hit on very often huh?”

“What?” Hit on? What was this boy playing at?

“Like, romance, people tryna get into your pants.”

“You’ve got the wrong idea.”

“Shut up. You like men, and I’m as good-looking as they come.”

“What makes you assume that?” Ford had done nothing to give such an impression; he knew for a fact that his romantic life and interests were non-existent and he’d done nothing to hint at anything.

Bill did waves in the air with his hands. “I can sense it. I also noticed your pupils enlarge whenever you look at attractive males.”

“You couldn’t possibly have gotten a good look at my pupils from such a distance.” The science was correct but it was absurd that the boy had managed to capture the exact moment Ford’s pupils had enlarged, he couldn’t even recall seeing an attractive male recently—beyond the boy, he supposed.

“High definition camera, kid. When they said high definition, boy, did they mean it!”

Ford looked away, frowning with lips tightly pursed. Something didn’t add up…

“I was lying.”

Ford’s eyes returned to the boy.

“About the high definition camera nonsense. Figured I’d try and smoke you out, and hey, it worked. But you know, your pupils got pretty big when you were looking at me…”

“I’m old enough to be your—"

“Uncle. Uncle Ford. Is that your kink? Say no or I’m outta here, pal.”

The tension briefly forgotten, Ford broke out into a chuckle. “No, god no, I assure you. You seem young.”

“Actually a lot older than you’d think." Bill patted his cheek lightly. “Great genes. I thank my mom for that every day.”

“I want to see some ID. Your business card, too. Prove to me you’re an actual PI.” Ford said. He would easily go off on a mental tangent if he didn’t remind himself of current circumstances. It was not the time for laughter.

“Sure thing, Ford.” With a careless flick, a wallet was on the table. “Just go on through that.”

There was no reluctance from Bill when Ford took to inspecting the wallet and everything asked for was there. The wallet held quite a bit of money in it, alongside various cards, including business ones, and Bill’s identification card. Bill Cipher, 31(Ford didn’t expect that). The business card confirmed Bill’s earlier claims; he was a Private Investigator whose business location was situated about twenty minutes from here. Ford recognized the area, but he’d never personally gone that route.

“So, if you’re making contact with me, I assume you’ve given up on the job?” Ford said, as he handed the wallet back.

“Maybe. Maybe I want to get up close and personal. Maybe I want to get a very specific set of photos of you, Ford.”

The flirtatious remark was delivered in such a way that Ford would’ve mistook it for a threat if he’d not considered the nuances of aggression and seduction—especially in this day and age.

“Six fingers. I like that—that weird deformity you have there. Imagine! Six fingers.” Bill held his own darkly gloved hand up in front of him. He spread his fingers and contracted them to a steady rhythm. “If you were thinking whether I’m a toy guy or a finger guy, I bet you have your answer now, huh?”

Vulgar, Ford thought. Something was off; if this boy–no, man– had indeed been watching him for a long time, he would know, or at the very least have some idea, of what would and would not work when it came to interacting with Ford.

“Let’s go alone somewhere.” Bill suggested.

“I’d rather not.” This was suspicious. An attempt at leading Ford away from a public space caused alarm bells to go off in Ford’s mind.

“Are you scared?”

“…Terrified.” There was sarcasm in there, somewhere.

Ford pulled his book into his lap. “I’m sorry but this—I’m not that kind of man. "

“Okay then. So what you’re saying is, you wanna go for like, dinner and whatever and then we can—"

“No. Who do you work for, and are photos the only thing you were meant to take of me?"

“You think I’m an assassin huh? Sent to seduce you, lure you alone and then CLICK—" Bill made a noise with his tongue as he pantomimed having his throat cut with his hand.

“No. Mind my language if you please, but I think you’re full of shit.”

“I’d rather be full of something else.”

Ford had to know who was paying Bill. Fiddleford? They’d had a falling out, but why now, of all times, to have someone tail him? A chance to get the information from Bill was there, Ford only had to take it.

“Do you think your vulgarity is attractive?” Ford asked.

“So what you’re saying is…if I polish up my language a little bit—"

“No.” Ford straightened his posture and attempted to soften his features, hoping he gave the impression of having calmed down. “I’m saying I’d like to get to know you.”

“I hadn’t intended on that, Fordsy. Was kinda hoping for a once off, maybe twice of trice– if I’m lucky—thing. Hence you know, me coming on to you really strongly and just laying my cards out of the table.” Bill said.

“If that were true, Bill, you’re a rather lousy detective.” Ford pointed out. “You’d have known by now what type of man I am and that your methods would not work on me.”

Bill gave a half shrug with one shoulder. “I thought I was cute enough for you to drop those rules of yours.”

“Are you a pathological liar?”

“You’re a smart guy, Ford. I like that.”

“So it’s a yes?”

“You come around quickly huh? Thinking of ways you and I can blow that anger of yours off?” Bill’s eyes gestured to Ford’s clenched fist hidden beneath the table. Such an observant nature made Ford even more cautious.

“Do you really want to get to know me?” With palms flat on the table, Bill leaned in closer towards Ford, his upper body casting shadow across the table ominously. “Or do you mean you want to get to know who hired me by getting to know me?”

Ford swallowed the jump in his throat, but did not recoil.

“You want to use me to find out who hired me?”

“I—"

“I don’t mind. Use me as you see fit. If you play your cards right Fordsy, I might just end up telling you.”

Bill Cipher stood up and with two fingers, blew a kiss that segued into a casual salute.

“I’ll call you. Gotta say, you might just be my favourite Ford.” As Bill left, his back growing smaller and smaller in Ford’s vision, Ford realized Bill had given him the client’s name.

My favourite Ford.

Fiddleford.

#bill cipher #stanford pines #gravity falls #billford #mystuff #cant bring myself to touch this too much #the ninth paradigm #TNP chapters

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