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selineram3421 · 3 months

Text

*writing down taglist* Dodadoo, that's a lot.

Hissy Kitty

Part 1

Prologue

Alastor X Reader

Warning!⚠

⚠ cussing, bold italics = sound affects, italics = thoughts, catnip, cat demon reader doing cat things, hehe ⚠

Husk stared with a scowl behind the bar at the red deer demon standing a little too close to you.

Its been a week and that piece of shit would not stop touching you. Placing a hand on your shoulder, grabbing your hand, and even patting you on the head. The last part he's seen the asshole do more often after noticing you purr at the action.

"You've done a wonderful job! I know Niffty appreciates the extra help.", the Radio Demon grinned.

"Are we going to do anything about the ripped up wallpaper?", you asked, looking at one of the lobby walls with peeling wallpaper.

"Don't worry about those. I'll take care of them soon.", the red demon waved it off and pat your head.

Purrrrprrrrrr

"Hands off you slimy fuck!", he threw a bottle at the deer.

Alastor easily dodged and made a tsk noise of disappointment.

"Honestly Husker, you must stop throwing bottles."

You just crossed your arms and sighed. "I'll take my break now."

Husk brought out a cup and a bottle onto the counter, opening it up and waiting for you to notice what drink it was. Not a second later you gravitated towards the bar with dilated pupils.

"Is that..", you mumbled, staring straight at the bottle.

"That's right."

The cat demon flipped off the deer, who was already walking up to the both of you.

"And what is this beverage?", he asked, tapping his fingers on the bar counter.

"Its my favorite.", you whispered, still staring at the bottle. "Husk, hurry up and pour the damn drink."

Your brother chuckled and poured the liquid into the cup, watching in amusement as you snatched it once he lifted the bottle back up.

"Enjoy you gremlin.", he said while putting away the bottle.

The cup was empty a second later.

Alastor was curious.

What is that? Why did the drink have their full attention like that? What a funny reaction.

"Can I have another?", you asked.

"No.", Husk said without a beat, cleaning the cup you used.

"Awwwwwwww!", you whined and rested your head on the counter. "Pleeeeeeeeaaase?"

"No."

Alastor felt his eye twitch at your pouting face.

"I don't see a problem with having another drink.", the deer commented.

You perked up immediately and looked over to the red dressed demon, ears pointing towards him and Husk's ears going back.

"I'm saying no for a reason.", Husk warned.

The Radio Demon rolled his eyes and had his shadow retrieve the bottle.

"I'll take care of whatever problems they cause.", he laughed and swiped the cup from the cat, pouring another drink. "Sound fair?"

"I'm gonna need that in writing."

In writing? He thought placing the filled cup on the counter. Why would that be necessary?

"Surely nothing bad could happen.", he laughed the bartender's concern off and looked towards the cup, only to find it empty.

Alastor looked towards where you were standing and also found that spot empty.

"Better start running deer boy.", Husk said taking the cup. "They have a knack for causing all kind of hell."

Before the Radio Demon could ask what the cat meant, there was a shout from the kitchen.

"WHO ATE ALL OF MA POTATO SALAD!?"

Alastor quickly wrote up a small deal, promising to take care of any problem you might cause while under the influence of the strange beverage.

There's nothing too serious. He thought as he went walking around the hotel to find you. Just minor little things like eating Angel's potato salad and scratching up some couches.

He walked into a common room.

Nothing too bad.

CRASH

Both of you made eye contact after you pushed a cup off of the table you were perched on.

"Dear, I'd advise you not to make anymore mess. I'll have to clean it up later."

Ignoring him, you slowly pushed another glass.

"No.", he said in a warning tone.

You stopped and stared at him for a moment before continuing.

"Oh for the love of-", he sighed as the other glass broke. "Fine. Let's do something about your current state.", he walked over to you.

It didn't even take a second for you to shift into a full on cat and dart out of the room.

Now I see what Husker meant.

"This is going to take a while."

Husk watched with a smug grin and took a sip from his bottle.

"No! Get down from there!", the Radio Demon ran over to the middle of the lobby.

You were on the chandelier.

"Oh yeah, they like tall places.", Husk pointed out.

"What in the devil was in that drink?", Alastor said, trying to use his tendrils to get you down.

All you did was swat and paw at the dark things. Moving out of the way and scratching.

"It's catnip tea."

There was a record scratch.

Alastor felt his eye twitch at how obvious it was.

"Figures."

The cat demon felt a little better that he got you to be a problem for the deer. Maybe after this the smiling fuck would leave you alone. Then he'd finally get some peace.

"Husk? What the fuck is going on?", Vaggie walked over, gesturing to what was happening in the lobby.

"Nothing much, just my sibling giving the deer a hard time.", he responded.

There was a crash.

The chandelier having fallen and you running off again.

"Damn!", the red demon snapped his fingers, bringing up some creatures to clean up the mess before going after you.

"Can I watch?"

"Be my guest."

The two watched as the deer demon chased you around the hotel. Trying and failing at getting a good hold on you. After a few hours, Husk and Vaggie left, having been satisfied with all the random shit you did to keep the smiling demon occupied.

Alastor, having run around the hotel all day was tired and had his shadows chase you instead.

Walking over to the couch with the least amount of scratches, he sat down with a tired sigh and leaned back into the cushions.

"Never again.", he told himself.

There were growls and hissing coming from the other side of the lobby, no doubt you scratching the shadows that tried to grab you.

"Do be gentle, there can't be any fur out of place.", Alastor told the shadows as he rubbed the side of his head.

I'll have to go over our original deal later. He thought about the first contract he had Husker sign.

It got quiet for a moment and he saw that you had torn apart his shadows.

"How did you do that?", he asked as you trotted over and jumped up on the couch.

Even now you were still a little cat, fully embracing your cat side.

"You are a menace, you know that?", he said to you, watching as you 'made biscuits' on one of the pillows.

I didn't know you could cause such chaos. Though you did end up in Hell so that should have said something. He thought and leaned his head back, closing his eyes from being tired and up all day.

Then he felt a weight on his lap.

Snapping his eyes open and looking down, he found you resting like a loaf of bread.

"All I had to do was sit down..", he said annoyed before just giving up. "Alright, alright. You have the honor of besting the Radio Demon."

You were comfortable, eyes closed and adjusting just a bit before staying put.

Such a calm thing when they aren't running about. He thought and started to pet your head, which had you purring immediately.

"You know, I never liked dogs. And with you I can see myself being a cat person."

His hand was yanked back by the wrist.

"You better get your fucking hands off of them!", Husk yelled. "They aren't your fucking pet. This is your last warning."

You had run off and hid from the barking cat.

"They had just settled down.", Alastor said and turned to look at your brother, pissed. "￦h¥ wθμ|d y¤U rμ¡n +h@t?"

"Oh calm your ass down.", Husk took out a bell and dropped it, letting it roll on the floor.

You pounced on it and started messing with the ringing ball.

"You think I don't know how they act? I spent years taking care of them before officially becoming an overlord."

"This would have been useful information earlier.", the deer snatched his hand back.

The cat demon rolled his eyes and went to pick you up along with the ball before turning back to look at his boss.

"I just wanted to see you annoyed.", Husk smiled, walking over to the stairs to take you to your room.

"And stop touching them. Read our fucking contract you dumbass. You're not supposed to lay a hand on anyone I genuinely care about."

Alastor stayed for a moment longer before shadow traveling to his hotel room, going over to his desk and rummaging through it for the contract.

"Where is the blasted old thing.", he mumbled, going through his papers before remembering he could snap it into his hands. "Looks like I really am tired."

He did just that and looked over the contract, skimming through it until he reached the part about protection.

"No touching, holding, dancing or any unnecessary physical contact with any demon I, The Gambling Demon, deem important enough to care about. This includes any blood relatives still alive in Hell."

The Radio Demon laughed.

What a clever cat.

"Let's see where I can find a loophole.", he grabbed a pen to take notes.

Let the game begin.

If you asked to be added but don't find your name in the taglist, please let me know through messages. I'll try to tag you again, and if it still doesn't work then I'll send you updates through messages.

~Seline, the person.

Part 2

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @lbcreations-blog @jane-3043 @chocolat3pudding @chewbrry @dewdropsposts @danveration @jyoongim @iloveblogging2 @elaemae @hallowedandhungry @fandom-nobody @nevermore-ramblings @creepylilneko @perilous-pasta @xdolls-crownx @scary-noodlesblog @+?

ML for Alastor🎙 | HK ChL😾

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tastesousweet · 2 months

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⭒ the girl with the tattoo (vii) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5 p6

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : a little weed sure eases theses two up.

warnings : implications of sex & use of weed

mickey speaks : sorry this took a while to get out friends, hope u love it. also lowkey self inserting w the hawaii trip :P

THIS IS PART SEVEN GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST!!!

“OH, he’s obsessed!” andrea exclaims across the table, a wide smile smothered over her face.

it didn’t take long for asha to call you and begin debriefing her month-long europe trip to you, only for you to cut her short (because matt began knocking on the door, complaining about how long you’d taken to piss) and ask her to finish her tell-all over lunch. she of course agreed and texted you the location of her favorite ramen place along with: “tell your roomie andrea that she can come with i wanna see u bothhhh!”

she’s spent the last half hour detailing the total princess treatment she’d experienced from a guy she met at her stop in london. “yeah, too bad i won’t see him again,” she pouts.

“you didn’t get his phone number that entire time?” you ask, fiddling with the chopsticks in your hand.

“oh of course i did, i just won’t be using it,” asha laughs and tucks a piece of her dark curled hair behind her ear. “it was nice while it lasted but i’m definitely not trying to deal with the hassle that comes with dating anyone right now,” she shrugs.

“you’re so bad!” andrea shakes her head and giggles, "but you know what, i get it."

asha hides her laugh by guiding noodles towards her mouth.

your phone buzzes softly against the counter and lights up, showing off a new text message from your mom, but more importantly your lock screen wallpaper displaying a sleepy figaro on your chest.

asha squeals through her chews as you pick up your phone to decide whether you’ll confront or procrastinate the text message (that will most likely sour your mood). andrea’s eyes widen at the girl as asha finishes up and starts to explain, “who’s cat is that?!” her acrylic nail taps against the table.

“oh, it’s ours,” you peer over your phone, deciding you’d rather not answer your mom’s text (she's asking how degree-related job searching has been, again).

“what?!”

“oh yes, he's my babyyy,” andrea coos while unlocking her phone to show off the many photos, “his name is figaro-.”

asha swipes through the phone in awe, “and when the fuck did this happen?”

“like a few weeks ago, i wanna say…” you turn to look at andrea while trying to remember.

“i’m coming over way more now. oh my god.” she gushes over the many photos of the playful black kitten before returning andrea’s phone.

“please do, it felt like you were gone for so long.” you whine out the beg before taking another sip of the warm broth.

asha sighs (in a way that causes her lips to flutter a little), “i know, i miss hanging out with my friends!”

“and we miss you! your ass is always traveling somewhere we have to soak up all your LA time while we can,” you joke.

the two laugh along with you, “i think i’ll be here for a while…not until like, my birthday.” asha thinks through her schedule and her mouth widens at the thought of her birthday, “oh my god! i forgot to tell you- mostly because it’s kinda far out? so, the past four years i’ve hosted trips for my birthday in late november... and i want you two to come this year!”

your eyes widen in excitement and your mouth is full of noodles, keeping you from letting out the loud 'yes' you wanted to. so andrea answers for the both of you, “well of course, we’ll come!”

asha’s face can’t possibly be stretched further with happiness as she celebrates, “yay, this’ll be so fun! you’ll get to meet some of my girlfriends and f’course the boys will be there so you’ll know a few people already!”

“and where are we going?” you ask with big, curious eyes.

“hawaii!"

౨ৎ

a distinct berry shade drips over the room in full swoops as the leaving sun peeks through matt's curtains ever so gently. your lips are now almost the same shade of the woven fabric, especially after enduring matt's undying and bitter kisses.

you hear him breathe a soft laugh, finding your body's limp, laid-out position to be straight out of an erotic femme painting: right leg and arm stretched above and below you, left arm above your waist to cradle your tits, and left leg bent and falling over the opposing leg.

you turn your head when you recognize his return, whispering, "hey."

matt’s bed dips accordingly when he lowers himself next to you, fixated on your still-exposed silhouette that hosts a few deep hickeys (he’s recently taken a liking to giving you them, his ego gains a small ignition at the thought of him placing them only where he gets to see), rather than your observant eyes.

he finds one he’d kissed into the skin under your printed hello kitty, leaning closer to lick and suckle at it more. you squirm and push his head away with a whine of his name.

he chuckles and moves his hair from his face, “put some fuckin’ clothes on then.” he lays your sweatshirt and panties, he gathered on his way back to you, against your chest.

you lift yourself easily, though a sleepy yawn still makes its way to you as you fit into the hoodie. matt shifts himself to slouch against his headboard. you finish your redressing before moving yourself higher on his bed as well.

matt thinks your phone screen is severely bright and headache-inducing but he doesn't complain as he normally would, instead he's more focused on balancing his joint-rolling necessities atop his wife beater clad torso.

you pay no attention to him as you exchange texts with remi:

REMI - 6:43 PM

OMFG

REMI

this guy im friends w thinks i should set you up on a blind date with a guy he knows :D

REMI

HE JUST SHOWED ME A PIC AND ... fuck

REMI

PLS SAY YOULL DO IT

REMI

u deserve a nice date night

Y/N - 8:36 PM

hi WHATTT

Y/N

idk rem😭😭

REMI

ABOUT TIME U RESPONDED HELLO

REMI

rlly you dont wanna??

Y/N

ill have to think about it

you sigh while turning off your phone, moving your body to better face matt, who's hands work to add the potent plant into his detailed silver grinder. there's obviously no need for you to stay in his bed or hang around for any longer, but as of late you both aren't necessarily itching to kick the other out as soon as clothes are back on.

"i wanna learn," you declare as you sit up more, looking down at his slouched figure.

"to roll?" he asks pausing his smooth routine and licking over his lips expectantly.

"yeah," you move your hoodie’s long sleeve cuffs away from the lower half of your palm, showing him your dedication and anticipation.

matt smirks and continues to zip the plastic bag once more, shaking his head.

"what? why not, matt?" you pout.

“because i’m already good at it,” he shrugs, “you can smoke with me but you don’t have to be the one to roll.”

“‘kay, whatever. i’ll just get someone else to teach me then, like chris or lucas or somethin’” stretching as you collapse back onto his bed and bury your face in the crook of your arm. when matt does nothing to pull you out of your dramatic fit, you decide to mess with him further, grabbing his phone from its place near his thigh and rolling over so that you lie on the plush of your stomach.

you pretend to type (actually just tapping against his uncharacteristically soft lockscreen, displaying a vintage looking photo of a woman you’d only assume to be his mother) then putting the phone up to your ear, mimicking the ring with a burring noise in your throat. “hey lucas! yeah it's me, matt never gave me your number! i know. that is really selfish and unfair!” you nod along while staring at matt who thinks you look and sound so stupid that it’s kind of cute.

you twirl your hair and bite your lip, really getting into character, “you're right, he is the worst. he won’t even let me roll up with him! but that’s fine, i think i may just need someone more skilled and sexy like you to hel-”

matt taps your barely covered ass harder than he intends to, shocking you in the best way. “alright, stop fuckin’ around and pay attention ‘cause i’m not repeating myself,” he softly demands, gesturing you to sit up with his fingers.

"ow!" you rub at the spot and roll your eyes in faux irritation, fighting the urge to smile now that you've successfully recaptured matt's attention and can still feel the heat of his hand on your ass. you try to give yourself grace in moments like this but you can't help but reflect and feel a bit pathetic when having a crush on someone like matt.

matt, who would never take a relationship further than casual sex and unserious after-sex smoke sessions, especially not with you.

"shh. come here, bruh" he hushes you and you obey, shifting to sit next to him, reflecting his bent position. "'kay," he hands you the grinder, mumbling, "take a look," as he grabs one of the natural hemp rolling papers and places the packaging on his nightstand.

you open the silver lid gently, eyes widening slightly and impressed with the dollops of finely crushed weed laying in the container. "how much do you use?"

"all of it," your head practically snaps over to look at him and he sighs, "y/n, it's like half a gram."

you fight the urge to dip your index finger in the crowd of weed and move it around, "still looks like kind of a lot."

"well, it's not," he shakes his head and adjusts his shoulders. "now you're gonna take some in your fingers and place it in this paper," he taps your distracted arm with his hand to bring your attention to the rolling paper he has curled slightly around his thumb. as you begin to take a hold of some of the substance he warns, "and don't do too much at once- i don't need you spillin' any on us or my bed."

"you're such a diva," you huff and softly sprinkle the weed into the wrapper he's holding.

once it's full enough matt shows you how his fingers guide the paper and fold it into its proper joint shape. he moves his hand towards your mouth, "now you gotta lick and seal it." you inch closer, hesitantly peeking your tongue out just a little to lick at the small flap. "okay, you need more than that baby-ass lick. but don't over-do the spit 'cause that'll fuck it up too," he eyes your mouth when you expose more of your tongue, successfully sealing the joint (with matt's guidance).

he finishes off the end of the joint before presenting it to you, "voilà," matt fiddles with the joint in front of your face before you boldly grab it from his hands.

you immediately encourage him with a wave of your fingers, "gimme that lighter, please."

he's slightly impressed with your sudden confidence and adjusts himself (removing the remaining items from his lower stomach, including the lighter you ask for) and reaches over to light it for you.

matt's lip falls between his teeth due to natural anticipation. the sharp, orange hue sparks to life and you gain a shyness as he approaches the joint in your mouth with it. suddenly your fingers take it away from your mouth as you whisper, "wait, matt."

matt dramatically throws his arm down, "yeah?"

"i don't actually know how to do this," a smile spreads across your face when you see matt's mouth slightly ajar and eyes disengaged.

"seriously? you started talkin' like you've at least smoked a couple times."

you hold a laugh in, "well like, i wanna try it. you just have to tell me what to do..."

"inhale the shit," matt gestures his hands, "hold in your lungs, blow it out. it's simple as fuck," he points to your hand holding the joint, "let's see it."

you deadpan, "you're so unhelpful," you shake your head and place it back in your mouth, "just light me up."

he rolls his eyes as his hand moves back up to you, you lean into the flame and immediately inhale as it comes to life in your mouth.

matt just smirks from next to you, amused at your attempt. you focus on holding it in your lungs and close your eyes as you exhale. the smoke exits smoothly and surrounds your head, when you open your eyes you immediately look over to matt who laughs when he sees a cough brewing in your lungs. you push his shoulder just as you begin a small coughing fit.

he goes to grab the joint from your hand but you raise it away, finishing your cough and putting it back into your mouth to taste the odd plant flavor again.

matt's laugh is still there just died down, "who the fuck are you?! 'just light me up' and then here you go actin' like you own shit." he points a finger at you with his eyes big and playful.

you smirk sarcastically, and your eyes crinkle in the softest way, when you lean closer to him in response, blowing smoke in his face.

౨ৎ

"so why're nick and chris staying so late at the warehouse?" you ask and play with the strings of your hoodie.

matt draws lines across your inner thigh with his fingers, "it's nick's month to do inventory and chris bought some crazy wall art shit he had to finish setting up-"

"you're not gonna help them?"

"oh yeah sweetheart, i'll actually go there right now and help them out." his eyes are so dewy and red you find yourself excusing his annoying sarcasm and instead wanting to kiss him and his puffy eyelids and his flushed cheeks, especially when you're sat on top of him like this.

"still, they probably wanted you around," you explain.

"why do you care so much about shit that doesn't involve you? i left them and invited you over so you should be happy." his voice eases his delivery to not come across so harshly while his eyes squint a little.

"you're right, s'not really my place to have a take on y'all's dynamic." you shrug and feel as his hands stop running over your thighs and instead squeeze harshly as he looks in your eyes.

"mmm, thank you for telling me i'm right," he smiles and leans forward to give your jaw a kiss with his wet, pink lips, "say it again and i'll be fully hard."

"you're a dog," you laugh as he pulls away. "what'd you do today?" you whisper, ignoring the sensation that comes with him feeling up your lower half.

"guess." he blinks slowly.

"mmm... i don't know. you tattooed some people, fucked me, made fun of me, smoked..." you list off on each of your fingers.

he nods along as you list each, making different facial expressions depending on the task. "those are all definitely things i did.."

"did you eat?"

"i mean, yeah...ish." he rubs his eyes and his mouth begins to curve slightly, knowing your next sentiment well enough he could say it with you.

as if on queue, you prompt him with a question that tends to come up quite often when the two of you finish fucking, "can we get food?"

౨ৎ

the doorbell of matt's shared townhome rings through the house as the two of you giddily stand near the door, "3, 2, 1.." you count through giggles before opening the door and facing the young man dressed head to toe in papa johns gear.

"oh. my. god!" you exclaim in a ridiculous country accent, "baby come here, they sent a man to sell us insurance or somethin'!" you call out and pinch your eyebrows.

before the man can get a word in matt comes into frame, cowboy hat in tow and his mocking accent deeper yet identical to your own, "now who 'den sent you here to harass my woman? huh?" he holds a tooth pick in his mouth and squints his eyes. "and how much would i owe to have whatever you got in them boxes, son?" he points and you try not to laugh from behind him.

"uh, it's just a pizza delivery that was ordered to this address, sir..." he looks around, checking the numbers displayed next to the door once more.

you peek your head back in, "you know what, charles, it was probably little john, you know he's always orderin' that amy-zun and what not from that tablet!"

"mmm..." matt pretends to think and not laugh as he holds onto a fake belt around his black sweatpants, "my lady's right," he cracks a smile, "you know how the kids get," he tuts and gestures to the man again while pulling out his wallet, "i owe you?"

"only $12.57."

"right," matt grabs a few bills and whistles, "wife, come grab this box for little john would you?" he hands the money over as you reach for the pizza box, "keep the change, boy." he tilts his hat in dismissal and as soon as the door is shut matt's falling to the floor with laughter as you laugh and place the pizza box down, screaming about how close you are to pissing yourself.

౨ৎ

"asha told me about her birthday trip in november," you say, licking your lips of excess pizza sauce.

matt nods and swallows to respond while wiping his mouth, "yeah she does that shit every year."

you adjust yourself on the bed and grab another slice of the cheese pizza in between you two. "it sounds fun, i'm excited," you say before taking a bite.

"yeah, it's usually fun. usually." he laughs.

"meaning?"

"last year in mexico nick almost fist fought asha's boyfriend because he was bein' shitty to her on her birthday. it was a fuckin' brawl everyday of that trip, i swear."

"damn."

"yeah. but don't trip, asha's not letting anything ruin her birthday this time, she loves herself too much to do that." he rolls his eyes in endearment towards his friend.

"well, how about you? your birthday's next weekend.."

matt shakes his head and looks to the side for a moment, "we always struggle to figure out what we're doing for our birthday. the three of us wanna spend that time together but chris wants a party, nick wants a small get together with games, and i'd want a lowkey dinner or something."

"you could always do all of the ideas but on different days."

"that drags it too much, we'll most likely host a party like we did last year, chris will probably nag us enough to make us give up." matt shrugs and takes a bite of his slice.

"well, i'll be at whatever you decide to do," you smile.

"oh will you now?" his eyebrows lift for just a moment in humor.

"well duh."

"and who's inviting you? cause it won't be me," he smiles and stuffs his mouth again right as you push his shoulder and laugh off his bad joke.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list (ily):

@rootbeerworshiper @deadxrx @breeloveschris @saintsturn @honestlybabymiracle @hearts4chris @starrysturniolo @blissfulbellss @aoxash @st7rnioioss @blondiesjailer @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @sturnioloa @thinkingabkinkyshit101 @tcvazq @novasturniolo03 @imaslutforwhitemen @trinity2058 @taking-a-footnote-in-your-life @1horrormoviewhore1 @keira324 @st7rnioioss

@whicked-hazlatwhore @matthewsturnioloswifey @mayhem-72

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x you

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webslingingslasher · 2 months

Note

is trouble ever frat!peter’s lock screen? Either before or after the whole situationship thing or secretly during both eras? If so, what picture?

yes! relationship!peter does it proudly, situationship!peter is a bit more stealth. iphones have a wallpaper feature where if you hold the screen down you can swap between photos and i imagine that’s how it is.

peter went home for a week and really missed you and went through his photos and he saw that picture he snapped of you at a party. the background is blurred, proof that the liquor was flowing heavily. you’ve got a smile that shows off almost every tooth and a vice grip on a liter of rum. he doesn’t know why, but he made it his wallpaper for the week and would pick up his phone every five minutes just to look at it.

relationship!peter has a picture of the both of you. something he looks at and is reminded of what he has and how much he truly loves you. it was from a double date night you both had a few months into being official, your friend pressured peter for the photo, he rolled his eyes and gave in. he’s glad he did. it’s his favorite.

you’re wrapped around him in a side hug, peters got a grip on your shoulder. he’s laughing at something your friends date said, he’s wearing the grin you tell him you love. but the reason he has such adornment for the photo is because of the way you’re looking at him.

your eyes are bright and shining, your smile matches his, not because you found anything funny, but because peter’s joy was contagious for you. each time he looks at it he feels warmth radiate, a visual reminder of how much you love him.

—

(you know i had to add a bonus of trouble finding peter’s wallpaper!! -situationship!peter obv)

‘just sit here and look pretty, i’ll be thirty minutes tops.’

peter had pulled you away from date night with the promise of stopping at his chapter meeting. he had negotiated the first hour, trent, the chapter president, wouldn’t break on the last thirty minutes and demanded peter be there. or else.

you wouldn’t mind but peter didn’t tell you until last minute and now you’re sitting down at an empty table at the library while they fill up a rented room across from you.

‘it’ll be longer than that and you know it.’

‘you’ll be fine. give me a kiss.’ you meet him with one, you grumble down at your phone. ‘my phones about to die, what am i supposed to do?’

peter feigns shock, ‘oh no!’ he looks around, ‘i hope you’ll find something to do in this big, empty library. it might be hard.’

your eyes narrow, you hate his sarcasm. ‘the library doesn’t have instagram reels, peter. how am i supposed to entertain myself while you’re talking numbers and business?’

there’s a miniature battle of silence, you win when peter groans and hands over his phone from his back pocket. ‘here. use mine.’ you reach forward, peter’s giving you unbridled access to his phone, you’d be dumb to say no.

‘nuh uh. you promise me right now you won’t fuck up my algorithm, i spent months perfecting it.’ you make grabby hands, ‘promise.’

the sleek, black screen is in your hold in seconds. your thumbs fly over the screen, you’re in and on instagram in a second. peter looks back once more, ‘thirty minutes.’ you nod, the first video already playing, you wish you could send it to peter. you send it to yourself to send back to him when you’re at a full charge.

ten minutes and you need a refresher, wandering around towards the bathroom you grab a water from a vending machine. cracking the cap, your left thumb pressed into peter’s home screen and his wallpaper separated, another photo right next to it.

you can recognize the edge, you swipe and feel your heart melt into a puddle. it’s you and only you. smiling and posing just for peter. he snapped the pic and saved it, he even went one step further and put it as his screensaver. a backup one, but something tells you he doesn’t want you knowing it exists.

you can keep a secret.

you can’t stop smiling at his phone and the short videos playing aren’t even that funny. you perk at a kiss on the top of your head. ‘told you i’d only be thirty minutes… what? why are you looking at me like that?’

‘no reason. it was very nice of you to offer me your phone, thank you.’

another kiss, you can’t wait til you get him alone. you might be the only one in on the secret, but he was going to be treated very nicely for it.

‘no problem, trouble. what’s mine is yours.’ your heart thumps louder. ‘and now,’ peter gently pulls you up with him, you’re along for the ride.

‘i owe you dessert, let’s go.’ you don’t walk with him, you stay until his hand tugs yours, peter looks back at you confused. ‘i wanna have dessert at yours.’

peter pouts, ‘tarrent polished off the ice cream.’

‘i know.’ peter knows that tone, now he’s standing straighter and acting casually. ‘oh? alright, yeah, let’s go home.’

#frat!peter drabbles

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s1ater · 2 years

Note

Hii! I have a request🌼 İt is reader x louis partridge where they are both famous and they have a loooooooongggg interview about their relationship pleasee, and full off fluff if possible

Thank you🖤

Have a great night/morning🥂🌃

couple's questions.

pairings. louis partridge x fem!reader

about. above

warnings. swearing

ricky rocks. the links within the text are reference photos i guess. not very long because idk sorry lol x

who asked who out first?

“me, i did,” louis mumbled right away, rubbing his jaw as you stared up at him with narrowed brows.

“yeah, after millie made you.”

“no,” his own brows narrowed as he looked down to you.

“yes,” you nodded your head, your mouth slightly opened as he stared at you with confused eyes, “lou, she bought your birthday present for me too.”

“you know about that?”

favorite memory together?

“i have.. none,” louis swiped his nose slightly, bluntly speaking.

"i have to agree."

he's struck offended.

wallpapers?

“lou’s mine,” you held up your phone after unlocking it before showing a facetime photo from when he had fallen asleep on his couch. “he’s also my- well we’re both on my lock screen,” you hit the power button before hitting it again causing the screen to light up and show the two of hugging each other after a day at the beach. “millie also took that,” you smiled before tucking your phone back in your pocket.

“she’s only my lock screen,” he held up his phone, showing a selfie of him having an arm wrapped around your shoulders from behind in new york. “my home screen is just me and my sisters.”

you smiled at the thought of the photo as he stuck his phone in his pocket then looking over to you, smiling.

favorite gift one has received/given?

your eyes brightened at the question before looking to louis who was already looking at you, a light laugh flying past his lips. his arm extended behind the two of you, his hand lightly grasping the back of your neck, giving it a light squeeze before wrapping around your waist.

“well, i’d say the silver chain that has louis’ name on it, but millie was the one who actually gave it to me, so..” you shrugged your shoulders causing him to lightly roll his eyes before fiddling with the thick gold bracelet on your left wrist that he had a matching pair of on his own wrist, something he bought himself for the both of you.

“she bought me my ‘heaven can wait’ sweater” he said bluntly, “i wear it a lot, but it seems she wears it more than i do.”

you laugh lightly, running your eyes along his jaw.

"you know, before we started dating my closet was filled with clothes, but ever since we've gotten together i only have the option of wearing the same thing every day," his tone is slightly annoyed but has playful banter hidden underneath as he lightly pinches you.

you smile hard, thinking about how much your closet has expanded and how it shouldn't even have to matter whether or not he has clothes at home due to how much louis is at your house in the first place.

over the summer, you both had talked about moving in with each other a lot of the time sense it seemed you both already did at your parents homes. you were almost never apart.

who gets annoyed the most?

“louis.”

“what,” he frowns hard looking to you, “that is such bs, there is no way it’s me.”

“you’re getting annoyed right now,” you grin, extending your pointer finger to him, making his brows furrow more. he stared at you a minute more before slapping your finger down.

"yeah, sure; me."

night in or night out?

you both look to each other and you frown slightly in thought. you can tell louis already has his answer by the way he smiles like a sick dog, his hand slapping onto your thigh, "night in."

he's asked 'why' by the interviewer--further extending the grin on his face, "because you can't make out in public."

you scoff, your face beginning to feel hot, "i'd agree, but not... for his reasons."

not totally anyways.

"oh, cmon love," he slightly elbows you in the ribs, "be honest."

"louis, quit being a perv," you shake your head in slight annoyance.

although the two of you do make out, a lot, nights in don't pertain to that idea, totally. you always find time to schedule movie nights, card nights, or even just plainly eat dinner with each others family.

as much as you loved going out, it got harder the more publicity you both faced from recent movies and shows you both did. you couldn't go a minute without a camera being shoved into your face.

what is one thing you both can't live without?

"lou absolutely can not live without his phone."

"neither can you, sweetheart," his voice is sour as he looks down to you, practically scowling at your insinuation.

"yes i can," you narrowed your brows, "you're such a phone face, lou, you don't even know it."

"since when?"

"since i've met you," you dumbfounded, "anytime i try and communicate to you, it takes about five minutes for you to finally get off your phone and look at me."

he winces a bit, knowing it's true, but he still shakes his head with the kiss of his teeth, "afraid not, love."

"fine, we'll put it down for something we both can't live without."

"no," he shakes his head, "i'm changing mine to you."

your face goes soft, and you look up to him, almost caught off guard, "louis, that's actually so sweet."

"what can i say, i'm a sweet man."

navigation.

@aliyahsutherland @ioveisabel @multifandom-obsessed @cryinginsanity @rebbyr @cc13723things @heyitsmeimdead @thehuntress09 @black-rose-29 @rrosecar @instabull @rudypankowisdaddy @lukewearingbeanies @kiramdd @highkeygolden @kitkat-mini @spencybear @w0nderr r @deadbeatbarb @phantompogues @i-love-scott-mccall @greengarsstuff @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @felixulvr @demigirl-with-problems @whoreforpsychopaths s @siriusspuppyy @mxsmwndr

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hatkuu · 7 months

Note

a litttllee bit of angst, a married pc admitting to cheating on kylar multiple times before they tied the knot. but theyre married now so those times dont count right?

CHEATER

WARNINGS: CHEATING, THREATS, KNIFE PLAY, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP WITH KYLAR, CHEATING ON M!KYLAR WITH M!WHITNEY, GEN! READER, SMUT BELOW THE CUT!

The ring on your hand features an ornate, one-of-a-kind emerald. One that Kylar insisted on you having. One that cost thousands of dollars. So much money that you wouldn't have dreamed of having back in your orphan days. And Kylar didn't even bat an eye when he swiped his black card, glowering at the bright smile that painted the attendant's face.

The emerald is on your ring finger as soon as you leave the jewellery shop. Kylar opens the passenger side door, watching you step inside with bated breath. You dress so, so cute for him. Just like a spouse should.

"Do you like it?"

He asks, fingers drumming on the smooth, black leather of the steering wheel anxiously - he's always been desperate to please you - husband or not. You hold your manicured hand out, admiring the ring. It's definitely unique. The large emerald glimmers in the sunlight, a stark contrast against your skin. You smile - it's fake - they've always been fake. Kylar can't tell the difference.

You don't think you've ever met a married couple who bought their rings after getting married. It was rushed, a spur of the moment thing. Kylar asked you (you thought of the stability, his money, how he was so eager to please you) and you begrudgingly accepted.

"I think it's very pretty." You reply smoothly, clasping his free hand in your newly ring-clad one.

●●●

"Whitney."

Kylar's fists slam beside your head, one with his knife still held firm. You try to soothe him, pleading into his wild pin-pricked eyes with your own tearfilled ones, suddenly regretting your infidelity.

"Kylar! N-No- I didn't m-mean it--"

Kylar tuts at you, his knife suddenly scraping the floral print wallpaper beside your head, tearing the pretty decor to shreds.

"You think he's better than me?"

●●●

The slap of a well muscled abdomen against your ass is not a sensation you're familiar with. Normally it's a much more bony pelvis clashing against your own, bruising your hips and straining sensitive skin taut against bone. He pants above you - deep, heavy, and masculine - nothing like the airy whines and stuttered moans you're used to. And the words - the difference in pet-names and praises is palpable - but you love it.

"You're my slut, you know that? Mine. I don't care if you married that creep - You're mine."

You keen, whining loudly, bucking your hips backward and arching your back to meet your homewrecker's delicious cock. Whitney snatches your hair in an iron grip, snickering at your submissive behaviour.

"You aren't like this with him, are you? He doesn't fuck you like I do - No - he's never truly owned your slutty little body, has he?"

You don't comment. You don't try to defend Kylar's honour. You just moan louder, wailing when Whitney's well-practiced hand reaches down to touch you where you need it most. Still pummelling your abused, cum leaking hole, Whitney cackles cruelly.

"Imagine if he saw this - If he saw that you were my slut!"

You don't look at Whitney's face. You can't.

You don't look at Whitney's phone camera either - not when it so effortlessly records you cumming all over his fingers - wailing out about how good he fucks you and how much better he is.

●●●

The shriek that escapes Kylar is animalistic.

His nostrils are flared, his eyes are furrowed into tight slits that only reveal a darkened shade of toxic green, his mouth is creased into a thin, angry line, twitching at random intervals.

You can't back away - you are up against a wall - both physically and literally.

You're scared - horrified of what a man you've created - and you've married him.

"It was a mistake to let you out! I should've known better! I-If I had known you were such a slut--"

Kylar wheezes painfully, chest heaving as he looks down at you, tugging his knife out from the wall, not breaking eye contact for a single second. Like a predator enroaching on his prey, Kylar leans down, stale breath wafting down onto your horrified face.

"--But you're lucky! I don't mind! I'll love you even if you are a slut! I'll make you my slut - for good, this time."

You can't refuse him. Not as his knife traces the delicate skin of your throat, threatening to pierce it - daring you to say no to your lawfully wedded husband.

#kylar the loner #whitney the bully #kylar x reader #whitney x reader #dol #hatkuuasks #degrees of lewdity #aaand spouse or not youre going in the basement L

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shunshunrika · 10 months

Note

Hi, for your recent event, I hope you can consider this request! 💖

FLUFF 7 + SMUT 27 + Gojo Satoru + (no kink specified: up to author!)

₊˚Ꮚ𓂅୨⊹ OBSESSION - GOJO SATORU

warnings - SMUT, afab! reader, mirror sex, dacryphilia, humiliation, overstimulation, recording, oral (m! and f! receiving), facial, dirty talk, squirting, pet-names, not proofread.

MDNI, 18+ only!!!!

a/n: Satoruuu, why are you THAT hot? also, can't believe this is my first toru smut? I'm a toru account..what??

Gojo Satoru, your very own boyfriend, usually known as the man who knows everything, doesn't know about your obsession with him.

Yeah, you have been dating him for a bit over 6 months now and yet, you keep forgetting that you are. You are still in your 'crush' headspace after all this time. Probably because Gojo Satoru is internet famous and a lot of people, like you, are in love with him. It totally gives you an existential crisis sometimes - that you are not one of those fangirls, but his actual girlfriend. That doesn't soothe your tendencies though.

You still steal glances at him and find your cheeks turning red-hot, you find ways to sneak a peek at his naked, steamy form when he's done showering, hell you will even read fanfiction about him and save particularly juicy fanart if you come across it. Recently, you had come across certain pictures of his, drawn by a very talented artist - (bless, you even tipped her anonymously)

Ever since then, it has been the photo that adorns your phone screen. Obviously, you had a different lock screen since you didn't want Satoru to know but you could ogle at this art of Satoru all you wanted in secrecy. Satoru never knew you had this side to you. He always felt you were the more independent one emotionally and he was clingy. Little did he know though. It felt indecent, childish but you loved your little secret all the more.

You had gone a few weeks without Satoru ever noticing until one day, in the middle of the supermarket, Satoru needed your phone to look at the grocery list.

"I put down ice-cream in there, baby. Did you remove it again?" Satoru whined rather loudly. A few women passing by chuckled at the two of you, bantering in the aisle.

"Satoru. We don't need ice-cream every week, okay? Do you love your dentist more than me?" is your rebuttal.

"She's prettier..." Satoru hums to himself, earning a slap on his back from you, making him chuckle.

"Well if not ice-cream, what's left..." Satoru started scrolling through the list until he seemed to have found something.

"Oh, what's this?" he asked, rhetorically. "Wow."

For a second, you feel an ominous air. You stop dead in your tracks and feel the urge to look at what Satoru is looking at. Sure enough, his blue eyes reflect the half-naked art of his own silhouette, vibrant in all its glory right on your home-screen. You almost forget how to breathe when you snatch the phone out of his hands aggressively.

"S-Satoru, I-"

"Y/N, seriously?" he asked, amused.

“Am I your wallpaper?”

“You weren’t supposed to see that!” you exclaim, a bit too loud for a public place. You calm yourself down and clear your throat before continuing. "u-uh. I thought it looked, uh, good...so"

"Y/N!" his face cringed up. "Oh my lord, you love me that much. And here I used to think you found another man because you keep ignoring me!" Satoru pouted quietly, still eyeing your phone. You could sense the onlookers' eyes bore a hole through your back so at this point, you just grabbed Satoru and made a run for the billing line. After you were in your car, you finally breathed a sigh of relief. Satoru still wouldn't shut up about the picture on the ride home as you drove. He had convinced you to hand him your phone so he could look at the picture better from all angles. What he was looking at, only he knew.

You were so happy he hadn't figured out that there were more.

"Huh..."

Another bout of unease. You perhaps spoke too soon.

"THERE'S MORE?" he exclaimed so loud while swiping left and right, you almost slammed your breaks.

"Satoru! Stop that!" you screamed. "Give me back my phone!" you lurched at him trying to get your device filled with his lewd pictures back.

"Y/N, are you really that horny for me?" He asked genuinely.

"You should've told me 4 times a week was still insufficient for you."

"Satoru, please." at this point you were so embarrassed, your eyes were tearing up. You didn't wait for his response, parked and ran straight into your house, kicking off your shoes. He could keep the phone, do whatever. He could think you are a freak, or obsessed, or gross or whatever! You sniffed as you climbed into your king-sized bed and hugged yourself. This was so humiliating!

"Y/N? You cryin'?" Satoru was right on your heels without you realizing. He climbed into the bed with you, dropping your phone on the side table.

"Are you embarrassed about it?" he asked, scooting to be beside you, his arm on your wait and his lips on your ear. "You embarrassed that your dirty little secret is out now?" He said, sliding two fingers up your shorts and rubbing your little nub through your panties. You bit your lip, pressing your thighs together and trapping his wrist there. When he realized that he was trapped, he proceeded to pinch your nub lightly making you yelp.

"Stop teasing me!" you whimpered, your voice breaking halfway through and your vision blurry with tears.

"Nope. I want you to cry more than that, but let's do this a bit differently." he said, getting up and picking you up along with him, bridal style. He was so strong it was practically effortless for him to carry you like you were a doll. He carried you away from the bed and you wondered where he was taking you.

"Let's switch the environment a bit, shall we?" he said, laying you down on the carpet in front of a full-size mirror that lay in the corner of his room. The mirror was large enough to show you and him. You thought he was too tall for it.

"You won't need these." Satoru said, pulling at your clothes. "Off with them." he commanded, stripping himself of his shirt while facing the mirror. You could see the intricate pattern of every solid muscle on his torso and abdomen as he got rid of his clothing and you did too. You noticed how pretty your body looked and how prettier it looked bare, sitting right below Satoru's own bare body. His length hung right over your head, semi-hard already.

"How should we do this?" he put a finger to his chin, pondering.

"W-what are we doing?" you asked frantically, unsure of what was about to unfold other than the two of you having s*x in front of the mirror.

"I'm thinking." Satoru got down on his back and pointed at his face. "Sit on me and face the mirror."

You gulped when you thought of how that would look in the mirror. Your legs spread out atop Satoru's gorgeous face and you having access to his abs and his hard-on.

You quickly followed what he told you and sank onto his waiting mouth, moaning out load when you felt his tongue beginning to explore your insides. Satoru grabbed your asscheeks and lifted you up ever so slightly so you could see in the mirror, how his tongue entered in and out, at a steady pace, before setting you back down onto him. Gosh, that looked so lewd...

"What should I do?" you asked, more to yourself than to Satoru. You started out with tracing his taut abs and you saw in the mirror how your fingers filled in the ridges and crannies. Your hands finally snaked their way to his towering dick. You bent yourself forward in order to reach his dick with your mouth as his torso was too long and it ended up making you lift your ass off Satoru's face. He growled and pressed on your hips to make you sit back onto his face. You struggled to stretch out this was for a few seconds until you found a comfortable angle.

You made eye-contact with your reflection as you licked the tip of Satoru's length softly. His head looked so raw and pink, it was cute. you smiled at it before placing a kiss on it. This made Satoru groan into your hole and made you sigh too.

"Pretty 'toru cock." you commented, taking it in your mouth little by little. You were surprised how large it looked, sheathed in your mouth. It created a bulge on your left cheek as you looked at your lewd, horny self in the mirror - eyes half lidded, saliva escaping from your packed mouth, hair astray. Satoru never let his rhythm falter, as he chugged his tongue deep into your crevices, lapping up every ounce of your juice as soon as your walls were coated with a fresh layer.

His fingers were probably leaving marks on your ass now, but you loved it when they did that. Your plump ass marked with Satoru's fingers. You hollowed your cheeks out, taking in more and more till your nose connected with his pelvic bone. The tufts of fine hair on his crotch tickled your nose as you stayed there, feeling his shaft sit comfortably in your throat, like it was a glove meant just for Satoru. Meanwhile, you swirled your tongue all around his length, paying attention to each vein and the underside of the dick. You brought your hands up to his sack to toy with it - gently rubbing at the twin balls and resisting the urge to squeeze them. He noticed what you were doing and brought his own hand to your nub, rubbing at it fervently.

"Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn't tease me." he purred and you moaned right into his dick, quivering as Satoru made you lose your sanity. This was a competition now, who would cum first. You were desperate to win after how humiliated you felt. You increased your pace with your mouth around his shaft and start pumping the bottom to add to his pleasure.

"Nghh." he groaned out under you, losing focus.

"That's it Satoru." you mumbled with a mouth full of cock, feeling him come closer to his peak. "Put it all on my face, please."

"I want to drink all of it."

That was enough to send Satoru over the edge and you removed your mouth just in time for him to paint your face white. You were so f*cked out yourself that you let his thick jizz go wherever it wanted to, inside your nostrils, back in your mouth, on your eyelids. Some even fell on his hairy crotch which you kitten-licked at diligently.

"Get all of it, don't leave a single drop behind." Satoru told you as he continued his assault on your womanhood from the behind. You looked at yourself in the mirror, deranged looking - face covered in ropes of his cum and your tongue picking up the leftovers from his pubes. What a mess. Beautiful.

"Say cheese, Y/n." you suddenly heard Satoru say as he started humming into your hole. The vibrations and his tongue were enough to push you over and cum monstrously onto his mouth so much so that you didn't notice what he was doing. You cum painted face was contorting in pleasure and you wondered what sort of expression you were making. You heard the sound of a camera flash but couldn't care less, you enjoyed your bliss for a few more seconds with tears rolling down your cheeks, mixing with Satoru's cum, until you finally looked back to see what Satoru was up to.

"Wow. what a masterpiece." he said, showing you the picture, he just captured on his phone. It looked like art. Your face, the scene, the mirror, everything in it.

"I'm going to use this as my wallpaper now." Satoru said mischievously, earning a grimace from you.

"Satoru- you-" you began saying with a sigh, trying to get off of him but Satoru won't let go. He made you sit back down on him and grabbed at your breasts blindly.

"Where are you going, I'm not done with your pretty hole yet." he said, plunging his tongue yet again into your insides, making you screech.

"O-ow. Wait." you hissed, tearing up. "I'm still sensitive."

"Cry it out. You look so pretty like that." he said, pinching and pulling at the erect nipples on your breasts making you hum in pleasure and pain.

"Oh my goodness." You exclaimed and kept exclaiming until once more, Satoru's chin was drenched in your juices.

"Okay, stop now." you said.

"No, princess." he said devilishly. "Not yet."

You were now seriously questioning whether you would lose your sanity. This time, your walls were even dry and yet you felt something bubble up in your abdomen while Satoru's mouth sucked your nether lips dry.

"Oh, oh!" was the only thing you were able to say as you saw yourself in the mirror and a second later, liquid sprayed out of you and straight onto the mirror. You kept spraying the mirror in bursts, with your head thrown back until you were so weak, you fell forward, your face next to Satoru's limp c*ck.

Satoru finally let go of your ass and gently pushed you off of him, inspecting your face.

"Well." he said, getting closer to the mirror and licking some of the liquid off of it.

"If you need a picture of me as your wallpaper, I'll send you nudes baby." he pulled your cheek as you smiled, watching him set off for the bathroom, humming a tune only he knew, as you let yourself drift into dreamland full of naked Satorus.

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acklesaddict67 · 3 months

Text

Healing After Heartbreak

Pairing: Jensen x Rowan Masters (OFC)

Mentions: Jared, Gen and the SPN cast, Rowan’s friends Chloe, Meg and Ava

Summary: After going through a nasty divorce that leaves Jensen heartbroken and alone will a chance encounter with a fan at Jibcon give him a new hope that he can find love again?

This my first attempt and writing a fanfic of any kind. All mistakes are mine. Any suggestions on approving my writing are welcomed. This will be a multi chapters fic . At this time I don't know how many yet.

Chapter One

Jensen’s point of view:

Jensen woke with a groan. Confusion etched on his freckled face. Why was someone pounding on his front door at this hour? “Wait?” he thought to himself. “What time is it anyhow?”. He stretched out his arm and picked up his phone from the nightstand to check the time. 4am! “What the hell!” he thought squinting at the screen. Sighing as he looked at his phones wallpaper. His three kids stared back at him, a pic from happier times; laughing on the beach. The last family vacation before the divorce. Now days he barely gets out of bed. He misses his kids and dog. She took everything he loved from him. He tried to fight back the tears that threaten to fall. Sniffing he went to lay his phone down when it started ringing in his hand.

The screen lit up with a pic of Jared smiling at him. Swiping the screen he answered “Hey Jared, this better be good it’s 4 in the morning.” “Dude get your ass down here and let me in. I’ve been pounding on your door for 20 minutes” came Jared’s reply. Jensen rolled his eyes as he stood up from the bed. Holding the phone with one hand Jensen used his free hand to hike his black boxers back up from where they were hang precariously low on his hips. “Yeesh, don’t your get boxers in a bunch I’m coming.” Jensen muttered into the phone. He can hear Jared sighing on the other end. “Are you even packed to go? You know we have to leave early to catch our flight.” Jared asked.

Jensen padded down the hall stopping briefly at the top of the stairs he tried to rack his brain about what Jared was talking about. He hurried down the steps towards to front door. He turned off the security system and unlocked the door, stepping back he pulled the door open. Jared rushed in and looked at Jensen. Upon seeing his best friend standing before him wearing only a pair of wrinkled boxers and sporting some serious bed head, Jared exclaimed “Dude why are you not dressed to go?” Puzzled Jensen just stood there staring at him. “What are you talking about? Where are we going, we don’t have a con to JIB on the 20th’’ Jared slapped his hand across his face. “Man have you looked at the date lately? Today is the 18th, we have to catch our flight to Rome this morning. Daniela needs us there earlier then normal this time.” Jensen looked stunned as he stared open mouthed at Jared. “No, it can’t be the 18th yet.” He doubled checked the date on his phone.”SHIT!” he exclaims. Turning on his heal Jensen bolts for the stairs hollering over his shoulder at Jared “How long do i have to get ready?” Jared tossed his head back and started laughing. “Don’t worry Jay, we have two hours before we have to be at the airport to catch our flight. I know your most likely forgot with the divorce being finalized last week, so I showed up way early to get your ass moving” Jensen stopped mid step and came back down the steps and slapped Jared across the back of his head. “Way to freak me out Jared!” Jensen exclaimed, then wrapped him in a quick hug mumbling “Thanks man, I’d be a total mess with out you”. Jared smiled and said “I know.” Turning away from Jared, Jensen made his way back up to his room to shower and pack.

Once back in his room he stripped of his boxers and tossed then towards the ever growing pile of dirty clothes in the corner. He then padded across the room to the master bathroom. Once inside he turned on the shower and let it warm up before stepping in. Standing in the shower lathering up his body he got lost in his thoughts. He knew he needed to get his act together and start acting like the grown ass man he is. He started making a mental list of stuff he needed to get done.

Stepping out of the shower he grabbed a towel and wiped off the water drops running down across his chest and arms before slinging it around his waist. He then saunters into his room pull open a drawer and grabbing a pair of boxer briefs out. He drops the towel on the pile of dirty clothes and slips them on moves to grab a pair of clean jeans and a t-shirt. He grabs the dirty clothes and starts a load of laundry while grabbing his go to backpack and sliver suitcase and started packing. By the time his laundry was washed and dried he was packed and ready to go. Once back down stairs he found Jared in the kitchen eating an apple from the fruit bowl on the island. “Hey you finally ready Jay” asks Jared. “Yep! I just want to grab some breakfast quick” replied Jensen. He turned and rummaged in the nearest cabinet and producing a granola bar. He then went to the fridge and pulled out a protein drink. After downing the food Jensen wiped his mouth with the back of is hand. Looking at his best friend he patted him on the shoulder and said “OK lets get going buddy, it’s going to be a long ass flight”

Once out of the house and Jensen’s bags were loaded in to Jared’s SUV it was a 30 minute ride to the airport. Upon arrival they got checked in and went through security showing their passports and boarding information to the lady at the gate. After finding their seats and stowing their carry on bags they got settled into their seats and buckled their lap belts.

Jensen let out a big sigh as he looked out the window. “What’s wrong bro” asked Jared. Sighing again Jensen turned towards Jared. “I’m worried about all the questions fans will be asking about the divorce.” Jared reached over and gave Jensen’s hand a squeeze and reassured him by saying “Don’t worry Jay, I got your back man, we all do. Rob, Rich and everyone else is there for you. We will make a announcement before we start addressing the fact that you will not be answering any question regarding your personal life.” “Not everyone has my back.” Jensen says with a sigh before continuing “You know Misha took her side and hates me. We both know he will make digs towards me every chance he can while there. He loves trying to make me out to be the bad guy.” Jared patted his arm as the plane taxied down the runway for takeoff. Once in the air the guys reclined their seats and settled in for the long flight ahead. Both drifting off about thirty minutes into the flight.

Mean While In Rome

Rowan’s Point of View:

The small cafe was still busy with the lunch rush when Rowan and her friends arrived. They were laughing and giggling as they walked up to the door. With a sigh Rowan looked around at her friends. Their two week European vacation was almost over. This was going to be their last weekend of fun, clubbing and living it up before heading back to the states. Even though they were all were pushing 40 they where still young and carefree at heart. Next week they would be back at home in Texas at their boring 9 to 5 jobs.

Meg lead the way in the door, a small sliver bell tinkled above their heads as the entered. A young woman wearing a black apron greats them, “Hello, I’m Gloria how may I help you ladies this afternoon?” “Hello my friend's and I would like a table please.” answered Meg with a bright smile. “Sure just follow me.” Gloria lead them through the cafe to a table by one of the beautiful windows. “How’s this ladies” asked Gloria. Rowan looks at her “It’s perfect, thank you.” “Sure, no problem.” She hands each of them a menu and asks if she can get them anything to drink. They decide on ice teas for all.

As the waitress walked away Rowan cleared her throat. “So what do you guys want to do for our last weekend in Rome?” Chloe looked at the other two and giggled. Rowan gave her a suspicious look “Oh god what do you three have cooked up? How drunk are you going to get me?” Ava’s eyes smiled with mischief as Chloe pulled a manila envelope from her bag. Giggling she told Rowan “Oh we are not getting drunk. We are gonna want to remember this weekend for the rest of our lives.” “Oh god what did you do Chloe!?” exclaimed Rowan. Her friend handed her the envelope “Just open it, this is going to be so much fun!” Taking it from her out stretched hand, Rowan took a deep breath before opening it. She reached in and pulled out four identical plastic bags. Each one hand one of their names on. She grabbed the one with her name scrawled across it in black marker. She opened up the bag and pulled out the top item, a lanyard with a plastic card hanging on it. Turning it in her hands Rowan read what the card said. “OMG!” she squealed. “You got us tickets to Jibcon? No way!” she exclaimed. Giggling, Meg told Rowan “Check out the other tickets in your bag’’ Rowan dumped out the rest of the contents of her bag onto the table in front of her. She grabbed the packet that had Photo ops written on it. Ripping it open she pulled them out and started reading off the names printed on them. “Lets see, we have Richard Speight Jr., Rob Benedict, Briana Buckmaster, Ruth Connell, Kim Rhodes, and Alexander Calvert.” Looking down she realized she dropped some. “Whoops dropped some” she said with a giggle. She looked at the names on the last few and went wide eyed. “OMFG!!!! you got me ops with Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles!!!!” “Yep!” beamed her friends. “We have ops with them as well.’’ replied Chloe. Meg cleared her throat and looked at Rowan. “We know how messed up you’ve been since Nate cheated on you with Becky from accounting. He really broke your heart. This is our small way, besides this trip to get you out of your funk.” “Yeah, we don't like to seeing you so sad.” added Ava. Chloe reached over and took Rowan’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “We all love you and want you to be happy again. Maybe you’ll meet someone while we are over here. Maybe even at Jibcon. Who knows? Right?’’ Rowan sighed and looked at her friends with tears in her eyes. “Thank you ladies so much! I don’t know what I’d do without you all. This surprise is just what I need to break be out of my funk. I really do need to move on,its been six months of heartache and tears.” She raised her glass and proclaimed “To JIBCon and a weekend we will never forget!” They clicked their glasses together before taking a drink.

Just then Gloria approached their table “So ladies are you ready to order?’’ she asked with a smile. They placed their orders quickly and as the waitress walk towards the kitchen they began talking excitedly. Rowan looked at her friends. “If I’m meeting Jensen and Jared in two days we need to go shopping! I need to find something special to wear.” “Oh defiantly” agreed Ava. After finishing their lunch and paying their bill the four friends headed out to shop for the perfect outfits for what was going to be a weekend that none of them would ever forget.

#jensen ackles #jensenackles #jensen #ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen x y/n #jensen x you #jensen x ofc #jared x y/n #jared x you #jared x ofc

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jahayla-parker · 1 year

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okay- i've had this thought stuck in my mind for a while now so hear me out

freddy carter x fem.reader and they're out exploring the city they're visiting and he's constantly taking photos of her candid and posed and its just sooo cute<33

if you dont feel it, dont worry about it!

Through Every Season: Freddy Carter x Reader

(Fics + SMAUs) Part 1

Description: Traveling with your boyfriend Freddy entails lots of candid and posed photos but you wouldn’t have it any other way. SMAUs and small fics / blurbs

Warnings: none I can think of!

So Tumblr doesn’t let me do more than 10 photos or one video per post 🙄 so… the collages would be one post. Aka you’d be swiping left to go from left to right in the order of top row to bottom for each collage as if it were one Insta post but it had to be one single photo for tumblr 😤

Pt 2 here

Freddy’s Instagram Profile

——SMAU Post One——

Liked by kittheyounger, lbardugo, yourusername, and 615, 471 others

freddycarter1: In the City of Love with my love 💞

view all 432, 785 comments

amitasuman_: bloody hell @/yourusername 🔥

archierenaux3: love how you’re not even in any of these 😂

calahan.skogman: excuse me, that’s clearly his sexy arm in the 5th one 🙄

kittheyounger: damn she’s beautiful

freddycarter1: je suis d'accord!

yourusername: mon bel amour de ma vie 😘

——Fic 1——

“No, stop Freddy!” Y/n giggled, covering her face as her boyfriend too another photo of her.

“But love, the sun is hitting so well off the tower” Freddy laughs, tickling her.

She squirms into his embrace while laughing, “I think you need to photograph the tower then not me babe”.

Freddy shakes his head, “you’re too adorable, please? It doesn’t have to be a candid shot “.

Y/n blushes, adjusting her hat, “alright, alright, just don’t start with those irresistible puppy eyes”.

He smirks and nods as he refocuses his camera, “ready when you are”.

Freddy smiles to himself as she pretends to blow his camera a kiss, creating the perfect portrait of his love in the couple’s favorite city.

——SMAU Post Two——

Liked by amitasuman_, lbardugo, yourusername, and 528, 920 others

freddycarter1: Previously on Candids and Cameras 📸🖤

view all 286, 914 comments

lbardugo: I’d definitely pay to watch this series 😌

calahan.skogman: don’t know which of you two I’m most jealous of, it’s not fair 😒

yourusername: numb.2 may be my new lock screen 😘

kittheyounger: would’ve lost that bet I figured it would’ve been #8

yourusername: you’d win a consolation prize as that is my home screen wallpaper 😇

amitasuman_: these adventures look so fun, let me third wheel next time haha

——Fic 2——

“I love you so much” y/n mumbles, tightly holding Freddy’s hand as they walk down the street.

He glances over at her, stopping so he can face her, “I love you too precious”.

She leans in to give him a kiss but pauses, making him let out a disappointed and confused huff.

Y/n chuckles, “I want to try something”.

Freddy nods slowly as he watches her grab the camera he bought her out of her bag.

He waits patiently despite his curiosity and soon he realizes what she’s doing.

She’d set up her camera on the park bench beside them, tilted to capture them in the frame.

Y/n blushes as she walks back to him, “I think it could be cute…”

Freddy smiles as he admires her creativity and nervousness, “I have no doubts about that dear”.

——SMAU Post Three——

Liked by yourusername, calahan.skogman, kittheyounger, and 843, 597 others

freddycarter1: Bringing my home to my home 🥰

view all 571, 302 comments

yourusername: they say home is where the heart is… but God I love the English 🇬🇧💙

tommyae: glad she replaced you as mum’s favorite 😉

freddycarter1: not even surprised 🙂

yourusername: stooppp Tom 😭

lbardugo: y/n you’re so stunning dear

yourusername: I happen to have a pretty amazing photographer☺️😉

——Fic 3——

“Are you sure?” Y/n asked for the thousandth time that night.

Freddy rolled his eyes lightheartedly and nodded yet again, “yes love, my parents adored you”.

She blushes and nods, biting her lip silently.

Freddy sighs, standing up and walking to her as she stood next to her dresser as she removed her jewelry from the family dinner tonight.

“I know you’re still doubting me y/n/n, so I’ll confess, you replaced me as my mum’s favorite” Freddy whispered, kissing her shoulder tenderly.

“Poor Tommy” y/n laughs, her teeth sinking deeply into her bottom lip as she grinned at his compliment.

“Tommy?! I’m the one you replaced” he teased, squeezing her hips.

“Yeah but if that’s true, it means he’s now her third favorite” y/n laughed.

Freddy smiled brightly, wrapping his arms around her, “I’m so glad you came home with me”.

“I love it here Freddy, truly. Thank you for bringing me” she sighed, turning to kiss his cheek.

——SMAU Post Four——

Liked by yourusername, calahan.skogman, benbarnes, and 782, 639 others

freddycarter1: I love her the way she loves waterfalls and the beach 🌊

view all 619, 452 comments

yourusername: Frederick. James. Carter. I love you more than waterfalls and beaches. And you damn well better know that you beach😝

freddycarter1: 💀 Ily darling

amitasuman_: this has become a y/n fan page and I’m here for it 👏

freddycarter1: as if there was any other choice 💁‍♂️

——Fic 4——

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of traveling with you dear” Freddy promised, laying down next to y/n on the warm sand.

“Good, because I don’t want to travel without you” she blushed, moving to lay her head on his chest.

Freddy grinned at her, softly pulling sand from her hair.

“God I love the beach” she mumbled quietly, one hand wrapped in his while the other dived into the sand.

He laughed, “believe me, I’m well aware. Why do you think we’re here?”.

She smirked, “because you love me”.

Freddy nodded, “more than anything”.

——SMAU Post Five——

Liked by yourusername, tommyae, amitasuman _, and 537, 914 others

freddycarter1: Introducing my snow queen❄️

view all 292, 486 comments

yourusername: not featured is poor Freddy having to help me warm up when I start to become an icicle 😇🤗

freddycarter1: I’m never going to reject cuddling before the fireplace your majesty 👑

amitasuman _: suddenly you guys being MIA this winter makes sense! Jealous of all the traveling🥹

kittheyounger: OTP ♾

——Fic 5——

“Aaahh why does snow have to be soooo cold?” Y/n asked rhetorically.

Freddy shook his head as he laughed at her, “if it wasn’t it would just be water, dear”.

She glared playfully at him, her eyes softening as he draped an oversized blanket around her body.

“You’re lucky you’re cute” She joked, poking Freddy’s cheek with her cold finger.

Freddy chuckled, grabbing her hands and cupping them in his as he brought them to his lips so he could warm them with his breath.

——SMAU Post Six——

Liked by yourusername, calahan.skogman, kittheyounger, and 628, 174 others

freddycarter1: Constantly falling🍂

view all 527, 312 comments

yourusername: so grateFALL for you Freddy🤎

calahan.skogman: no, not autumn puns you two 👎

lbardugo: you guys somehow get cuter every season

freddycarter1: she’ll forever be loml through every season 🫶

——Fic 6——

“Fall may be my favorite season, but you’re my favorite person” y/n hummed, cuddled up in Freddy’s arms as they lounged on their sofa.

He laughed sweetly, the sound calming to y/n.

“A bit cheesy my love, but I’m honored to even be compared to your love of autumn “.

She rolled her eyes, playing with his hand under the blankets, “Frederick Carter, you better be joking. I love you more than any season”.

Freddy blushed and buried his face in the crook of her neck, “I could say the same to you, darling”.

View y/n’s version here (again Tumblr only always 10 total per post so broke theirs up). Preview:

Freddy Carter Masterlist/Navigation

Kaz Brekker Masterlist/Navigation

Six of Crows Masterlist/Navigation

My Main Masterlist/Navigation (all my works)

Freddy Carter Taglist (comment here to be added): @ell0ra-br3kk3r

#freddy carter #freddy carter x reader #Freddy Carter x Yn #Freddy Carter x y/n #Freddy Carter smau #smau #Freddy Carter Instagram #Freddy Carter x you #Freddy Carter x Reader smau #Freddy Carter fluff #my work #original post #two part

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thisbuildinghasfeelings · 1 year

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I know people are underwhelmed by the lack of Tarlos. And I get that but it seems like there's a lack of couple time in general. In 10 episodes we've hardly seen Judd and Grace together besides the episode with Grace and the boy. I will say though there is more effort put in with the little things when it comes to Grace and Judd for example when Judd sent Grace a text saying he loves her after Owen's speech, also Grace being called my heart on his contacts and Grace's wallpaper being Judd. That being said there hasn't been much screentime between them. I have not even seen Nancy and Mateo, they aren't my fav couple because I don't get the chemisty but they deserve more. I wonder why there is so much couple time limited but it seems to be a general thing.

I'm not sure I necessarily agree that there's a lack of couple time. In fact, part of what has been taking up screen time is new couples like Tommy and Trevor, Paul and Asha, and now Owen and Kendra. You're definitely right about a lack of Judd and Grace...I actually think the season has been surprisingly light on Judd overall. However, I think it's more that they haven't gotten to the Judd and Grace part of the season yet. It's likely that's about to be improved upon with some Judd and Grace centric storylines coming up. There also hasn't been a lot of Nancy/Mateo, but I don't think they were ever going to have a major focus or significant development. I see them as more of a background couple. I actually think we got a little bit of cute development for them in last night's episode, and it looks like we'll be getting more next week.

As far as Tarlos goes, the season started out a little rough for me with the secret marriage thing, but since episode 2, I've been pretty happy with everything we've gotten. Do I want more Tarlos? Always! Was I a little annoyed that Owen got to kiss a woman he just met multiple times and we haven't gotten a Tarlos kiss since episode 2? Sure. But overall, I think we've gotten a good amount of Tarlos moments. I'm particularly loving the wedding mention in every single episode.

In season 3, the first 4 episode arc had some Tarlos focus. Then there was some Tarlos in episode 8, a little in 12, a lot in 13, the Lou stuff in 15 and then the proposal in the finale, plus a few other little moments throughout. This season, there was even more of a Tarlos focus in the first four episodes than in the ice storm arc. We got a Tarlos storyline in 8 (again more of a specific Tarlos focus than in 3x08), and little moments in 6 and 9, plus the wedding mention in every episode. We know we have 12 and 14 (whichever one is which lol) still coming--major Tarlos focus, as well as solo scenes in Open (hopefully at least the equivalent of 3x13) and what looks like double dating with Marjan in Swipe Left. There will probably be some other little things in the remaining episodes like we got in 6 and 9, hopefully they will continue to mention the wedding in every episode, and then the wedding itself, which I'm assuming will give us a lot of Tarlos. That doesn't feel like a lack of Tarlos to me.

The show is going off in a lot of new directions this season that I've found to be mostly interesting, but it takes up a lot of screen time that might have previously gone to little moments between characters. We had the Carlos arc and the FBI stuff dominating the beginning of the season, and then the Marjan storyline. We also had Tommy/Trevor and Paul/Asha. We've already gotten A LOT this season, and we're only a little over halfway through. I think (and hope) things are going to continue to balance out a little. There are lots of good things to come, I'm sure of it!

#anon ask #lone star speculation

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herestrish · 2 years

Text

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠▸ nanami kento x reader (gn)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬▸ hurt/comfort, fluff, coffee-shop (i have no chill with this au i swear to god).

��𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭▸ 1.3 k

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲▸ you desperately try to wash your thoughts away with your writing, when a workaholic nanami catches your eye.

𝐚/𝐧▸ dedicated to my sweet @kikyan, whose love for storytelling is as strong as nanami’s hate for overtime work. they’re a gem.

A beam of sunshine escaped through the window and fractured his face in a straight line of warmth. Pale cheekbones that looked almost healthy, dark circles covered under dying sun. A flare reflecting into his eyes that one—if blinded with hurry, obliviated with disinterest—would deem alive. They weren’t.

The place was almost empty. Small, narrow piece of intimacy hiding at the corner of the street; the secluded type where customers usually know the bartenders, and bills are paid at the counter. Cosy gradient of browns and beiges, light bulbs hanging from the ceiling, shining soothe and retro just like the music playing in the background. A casual guy with freshly trimmed beard was typing on his essay on the other side of the room. Two pink-cheeked girls in turtleneck sweaters (with steam spectrally hovering up from their cups, hardcover books by their side—oh, but we know it’s just for show) were keeping up with each other’s lives three tables farther from you. Rarae aves. Sighing in frustration, frowning at the sudden disturbance, he averted his eyes from the outdoor light play—gold turning to bronze, at last to silver—and pulled the laptop lid a bit lower. He didn’t like it when things dragged him out of his concentration state. Tightened the tie around his neck as a form of punishment. Then he rubbed on his eyes just so heavily, determined to get used to the screen’s whiteness as promptly as possible. As efficiently.

And now that the sun left his face and scattered into shades of pink behind the rip-roaring arcadia of Tokyo, the contrast between his own image and the setting he’d put himself into became more and more evident. Like a frame that had built itself around his table, covered it in paint and got it hung on wallpaper. At this point, you’d thought this man would fit better inside a cubicle: white quivery neon, coffee filtered in a hurry, nine-to-five schedules, cigarette breaks restoring the worker’s will to live. But it was still Saturday and an office room could be claustrophobic, and a home distracting.

So he typed and typed and typed; occasionally dropped some scribbles down the notebook beside him, took a sip from a white ceramic cup. He’d ordered a double-espresso—no sugar, no milk, just caffeinated oil to keep the cogwheels moving. By the other side of his laptop, the man’s phone started to buzz. It didn’t stop too soon. He rolled his eyes at the insisting caller, swiped a thumb up only at the fourth ring. Phone by his ear and a frigid tone in his voice, he looked up, and your gaze hurried downwards when he did. You had your own amount of typing to concentrate at, less work and more pain-killing escape. A laptop screen, a half-hearted paragraph and a story idea that had grasped you during your own morning shift at work and hadn’t let go ever since. Eyes heavy and back aching, you were here out of an unconscious attempt to bring it to life. You didn’t really know what to do with it in the future.

The conversation went on. (“Precisely. I’d very much appreciate it if you stopped associating me with all this, I won’t get involved with the line of work no longer. Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to acquire a new competency and do the jobs you are assigned to from now on.”)

You tried to put your thoughts in order, turn ideas into words, daydream into text; all efforts were to no avail, and a headache slowly started to take over in all your frustration. A word, cut out. Two words, replaced. Three—let’s select the whole row and begin a new sentence from scratch. At least the sound of your typing was soothing enough to keep you going. The man sitting at the table in front hung up the phone and ordered a glass of wine, moments after it wasn’t your typing to soothe anymore. You stared at the screen, eyes glazing over, with a finger curled up your lips as he completed endless rows of text. Mechanic, focused. And you were gripped again. Curious, mind blank.

“You’re staring again.” It was an observation. No hostility held to his voice, nor mischief.

A thought took form out loud. “Am I?”

“Pretty much, yes,” He responded, eyes fixed on the screen and fingers racing over keyboard.

You felt as if a knot got stuck in your throat. Your lungs got flattened, and your headache pulsed in response.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

A moment passed.

“You seem horrifyingly tense on a Saturday evening, is all.” You managed.

He didn’t take too much time to ponder over it, his words came out cold and professional.

“I shouldn’t be working on a Saturday evening.”

And he was professionalism incarnated, all right, with shirtsleeves pulled up to elbows and braces vertical to slim waist and round shoulders that had no time to loosen.

You closed your laptop lid, a faint ‘click’ when you did. Your stare was less sheer curiosity and more sociability this time, it propped your hand in a palm just as dandelion seeds are driven mid-air and then down to the ground.

Natural, understanding. “Leave it to Monday, then.”

“Weekend productivity leaves a door open for the rest of the week. If my schedule says I’m ought to be off at five, I’d prefer to be off at five.” The man clarified, with a lowered tone and a masked sigh that actually translated themselves to ‘cannot do’.

“Has it worked so far?”

“No.” He said, throwing you a wise look, hand resting somewhere near touchpad.

“That’s the case,” After a second of thought, you point a finger at the gleaming glass of wine on his table, “Drink up.” then at the opened laptop in front. “Open a word document, write a story.”

The interior lights radiated brighter and brighter—orange and yellow midst the room, dark circles on the ceiling—as the sun became completely concealed, and your reflections gained contour in over-carefully wiped windows.

He complied with the first suggestion, glass by his mouth and alcohol cascading down in crimson waves. “I’m not convinced literature will get any bureaucracy done, however.”

A shrug. “It shouldn’t. But it should clear up your mind at some point.”

“If only people functioned the same.”

“Still, I don’t know anyone who isn’t truthfully into taking a break from time to time.”

“All right, look,” He began, brushing a piece of blonde hair from his face, all austere and composed. “I much appreciate your concern, but under no circumstances will you see me becoming this Kobo Abe in my free time. Especially when overloaded with work. It wouldn’t make any sense.”

“Neither does bureaucracy.” It was all you could say back; your smile was still clear like a morning sky before you returned to your laptop, your own word document that remained to be filled with pages.

He left early, earlier than you. Watched him pack his things out of the corner of your eye, paid attention when bells chimed at the exit door. And it didn’t take much more time for you to follow suit: laptop closed, bag around shoulder, seat dragged to its place.

“Don’t sweat it,” The woman at the counter looked unusually casual for the dark circles she wore under her eyes. “it has been already taken care of.”

Like someone entering a numbing state after endless hours of labour.

“What do you mean?” Raising an eyebrow, you stopped rummaging through your wallet.

There was a deep sinking feeling in your stomach you found hard to get over.

“The guy from before? Looking like a peaky blinder or some sort? He paid for your bill before leaving.”

A couple of beats later, your lips curve in amusement. “If they ever come in here again, please tell them they be more old-fashioned than my granny’s curtains.”

#jjk #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #a little distraction until i get back to writing caffeinated #trish writing

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splat-precipice · 2 years

Text

Elena and Gus: Part 4 GOSSIP

The next day, The father and son pair of Lord Jorge Pinheiro and Lord Gustavo were poring over the shipping and delivery notices of shale and clay. The boredom of it all, the combined effects of the heat and din of the brick factory caused Gustavo’s mind to wander.

‘Come back and play the pianoforte at anytime,’ Gustavo thought back to meeting with the Gaitans, riddled with consternation. ‘Why the hell did he offer that?’. They owned a pianforte, of course they did. They were wealthy, with a daughter whose charm to her favor was based around it. She spoke of the children she taught at their home. Elena Gaitan didn’t NEED to borrow the pianoforte. But perhaps, if Gus was being honest with himself. He WANTED to hear her sing and play again. ‘I should adjust my thinking. She is not a trap, but a siren ready to dash me on the rocks’, he smiled. But any thoughts he entertained of taking his place in society and being a lord, marrying as his parents wanted. Had evaporated by the afternoon the next day. He was once again resolute in the idea, that he should just run.

His thoughts were dragged back to the present when Jorge rapped his son’s fingers sternly with his pointing stick used to show trade lanes on the map on the table in front of them. "Pay attention Gustavo, this will be your business, you will need to track manifests". Jorge barked, before turning to an employee informing them of a delivery to be delayed.

Gustavo looked at the manifests. Order in. Order out. Not much to it but painful monotony. He picked up the papers and swiped sideways with this arm, the marble dust once again coating the surface. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, the sound like wallpaper. Unlike the dust of his charcoal, brick dust left his skin dry, and his soul unnourished.

He hates this factory, he hated this work. He had no intentions of growing up and setting foot here. He dreamed of just running away, as best as he was able, and leaving it all behind. No money, no title, just him, the country, and his art. Perhaps, a wife if love could find his way to him despite his ailment.

Instead, he was stuck in this factory listening to the deafening grinding of the saw. Staring at numbers that made his head ache. He was slow to literacy as a child. The teacher knew him to be intelligent, and with his kind tutelage he broke through and taught him how to slow his mind, but when distracted it was easy for the letters to become jumbled. He pressed his eyes shut and opened them, hoping to reset his thoughts when he noticed a canceled and returned order for Endinbury hall, the estate of Lord Hernandez. It was a large order and it appeared the hall missed several deadlines to repay the credit.

"Look at this? Why did they cancel the order?" Gustavo asked when his father returned to his side.

“Lord Hernandez has been failing to pay his debts all over town. Apparently, he has been negligent in collecting his rent and spending the yearly stipends on extravagant upgrades and gambling in Cheapside.”

“So I would set your sights on someone other than Ms. Gaitan. I know your mother and her were visited the other day.” Lord Jorge Pinheiro, said taking his seat and readying his quill. "Far too low a prospect for our family anyways."

“I have no interest, in Ms.Gaitan, but what do they have to do with this?”

“Mrs.Gaitan is delighted in his circumstances, the Gaitan’s marble delivery was also canceled to Edinbury. So a high lord like him would be desperate to debase himself to better his financial standing.” He moved to the next paper after dipping his quill again. “Can’t argue with that. Could you think of a more perfect pair? The morally bankrupt with money, and the titled who is bankrupt.” he chuckled at his own joke, as he continued to sign the papers.

Gustavo frowned at the glibness in which his father explained the situation. And he changed his mind. He wouldn't be running away anytime soon. He would stay the season at least. Just long enough to see Elena married to literally anyone but the wretched Carlos Hernandez.

It would be entertaining for him at least. Spending time with her would cause his father deserved consternation, and would enrage the territorial Lord Hernando.

He might just start to have fun in the high society after all.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39599541/chapters/99127875

#gustavo pinheiro #elena ruiz #regency au #@rinnysega #@prophetic-hijinks #PART 4

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myswipefile · 2 years

Text

Saturday, 07/02/2022 part two

Journaling is supposed to help my recoveries, so here we go.

I learned about this today:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ethyl_Corporation

I also changed my wallpaper and lockscreen tonight.

Let's read my favorite book.

"It's one of my theories that when people give you advice, they're really just talking to themselves in the past." — Austin Kleon

This blog is me giving advice to myself in the future.

"Everything that needs to be said has already been said. But, since no one was listening, everything must be said again." — André Gide (жид)

"You don't get to pick your family, but you can pick the music you listen to and you can pick the books you read and you can pick the movies you see. You are, in fact, a mashup of what you choose to let into your life." — Austin Kleon

"We are shaped and fashioned by what we love." — Goethe

"Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your. imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work will be authentic." — Jim Jarmusch

"Chew on one thinker--writer, artist, activist, role model-you really love. Study everything there is to know about that thinker. Then find three people that thinker loved, and find out everything about them. Repeat this as many times as you can. Climb up the tree as far as you can go. Once you build your tree, it's time to start your own branch." — Austin Kleon

"Whether you're in school or not, it's always your job to get yourself an education." — Austin Kleon

"It's not the book you start with, it's the book that book leads you to... Collect books, even if you don't plan on reading them right away. Nothing is more important than an unread library." — Austin Kleon

"Carry a notebook and a pen with you wherever you go. Get used to pulling it out and jotting down your thoughts and observations. Copy your favorite passages out of books. Record overheard conversations. Doodle when you're on the phone." — Austin Kleon

I've wanted to do this for years and never knew how to start. How does one bring a notebook wherever they go? How does one find the time in the moment to stop and record? Sure, it can be messy and it doesn't have to be in-depth, but most of my inspiration and things I long to record occur while I'm at work. Who stops on the job to write things down? How does one gain that freedom?

"Keep a swipe file. It's just what it sounds like—a file to keep track of the stuff you've swiped from others... See something worth stealing? Put it in the swipe file. Need a little inspiration? Open up the swipe file. Newspaper reporters call this a "morgue file"- I like that name even better. Your morgue file is where you keep the dead things that you'll later reanimate in your work." — Austin Kleon

"Do you ever have moments of imposter syndrome?" "I almost asked what you think of 'fake it 'til you make it,' but I thought this was more intriguing."

"In the beginning, we learn by pretending to be our heroes. We learn by copying... Who to copy is easy. You copy your heroes—the people you love, the people you're inspired by, the people you want to be... What to copy is a little bit trickier. Don't just steal the style, steal the thinking behind the style. You don't want to look like your heroes, you want to see like your heroes." — Austin Kleon

I've unintentionally adopted this habit in my life.

"Bradford Cox, a member of the band Deerhunter, says that... he had to wait until the official release day to hear his favorite band's new album. He had a game he would play: He would sit down and record a "fake" version of what he wanted the new album to sound like. Then, when the album came out, he would compare the songs he'd written with the songs on the real album." — Austin Kleon

"Just watch someone at their computer. They're so still, so immobile... We need to move, to feel like we're making something with our bodies, not just our heads... You need to find a way to bring your body into your work... if we strum a guitar, or shuffle sticky notes around a conference table, or start kneading clay, the motion kickstarts our brain into thinking." — Austin Kleon

"I have stared long enough at the glowing flat rectangles of computer screens. Let us give more time for doing things in the real world... plant a plant, walk the dogs, read a real book, go to the opera." — Edward Tufte

"When I was making the poems, it didn't feel like work. It felt like play." — Austin Kleon

Never work a day in your life. Find something that fulfills you. Insert your meraki into it. Indulge your passions and show the world what you're made of, and show them what makes you.

"Stand up while you're working. Pin things on the walls and look for patterns. Spread things around your space and sort through them." — Austin Kleon

"The work you do while you procrastinate is probably the work you should be doing for the rest of your life." — Jessica Hische

"'When I get busy, I get stupid.' Ain't that the truth. Creative people need time to just sit around and do nothing... Take a really long walk. Stare at a spot on the wall for as long as you can... Take time to mess around. Get lost. Wander. You never know where it's going to lead you." — Austin Kleon

"When you love different things, you spend time with them." — ? Tomlinson

"The thing is, you can cut off a couple passions and only focus on one, but after a while, you'll start to feel phantom limb pain. I spent my teenage years obsessed with songwriting and playing in bands, but then I decided I needed to focus on just writing, so I spent half a decade hardly playing any music at all... I started playing in a band again. Now, I'm starting to feel whole." — Austin Kleon

"You're very good at recalling lyrics, stories, anecdotes, and quotes, and I, for one, really enjoy hearing them."

I'm at 83% sleep now. Goodnight

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taexual · 2 years

Text

ATEEZ / you don’t realize he has feelings for you

genre: friends to (hopefully) lovers au

warning: fluff, some angst & pining

requested by anonymous.

↣ seonghwa

The fact that he had a crush on you was so painfully obvious that the rest of the boys were completely dumbfounded whenever Seonghwa did or said something so clearly flirty, but you only laughed and forgot about it.

And he was really using your ignorance to his advantage – there’s not a chance he would have told you that the two of you looked good together, if he didn’t think his comment was going to fly completely over your head.

“We do,” you agreed with him, as you two looked through pictures from your most recent camping trip with your friends. There were only a few pictures of you and Seonghwa together, but those were, of course, the ones that he’d marked with a star for ‘important’ before he sent them to you. “We should take more pictures together.”

Absolutely delighted that you would suggest this, Seonghwa got his phone out from his pocket immediately.

“We should!” he said, turning the camera on. “I need a new lockscreen.”

“Whoa, hey, I don’t mean right now,” you turned away from him as he extended his hand and angled the front camera to fit you both into the frame. “And why would you even use this as your lockscreen? The clock is going to cover up our faces.”

Beaming now – literally; the boy was nearly euphoric – he nodded. “Good point. We should take several pictures and make a collage.”

That wasn’t exactly what you’d meant, but he had a counter-argument ready for whatever else you might have said – his next option was going to be printing the pictures out and taping them on his walls in place of wallpaper – so you didn’t fight it too much.

You posed for selfies with him in every cliché way you could come up with – and just laughed in the last few because of how many different selfie ideas he had; a true professional – and then you watched over his shoulder as he scrolled through the pictures, choosing which ones to use in the collage.

“I like this one the most,” he said, stopping on the picture where you were laughing so hard, your head was thrown back slightly, while he was attempting to make a heart with you over your heads. “You look happy in it.”

“No, my face looks dumb here,” you disagreed, attempting to swipe it away only for him to pull his phone out of your reach. “Don’t use that one.”

“That’s the one I have to use,” he insisted. “I want to look at your dumb face.”

You gave him a look then, your eyebrows furrowed slightly. For a minute there, Seonghwa’s heart seemed to stop beating and he thought he’d finally gone too far with his not-so-subtle comments. But then you laughed – as always – and slapped his shoulder half-heartedly.

“You only like it because I look weird,” you said and even though it was supposed to be an accusation, it sounded more like an excuse – like the fact that he wanted to keep looking at that picture wasn’t a big deal. It had nothing to do with you, or how he felt about you.

Seonghwa went with it, because it was easier that way. “Yeah. That—that’s definitely the only reason why.”

↣ hongjoong

The way he listened to you when you spoke should have been the first clue. The way he always asked you to tell him more – regardless of how trivial and even boring your topic of choice was – should have been the second one. Finally, the way he actually remembered everything that you told him, should have been the third clue that Hongjoong was, in fact, head over heels in love with you.

And yet, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was what you said when Seonghwa brought that up. “He’s like this with everyone. That’s just who he is.”

“He told me to shut up yesterday,” Seonghwa countered, “after I warned him that San and I may have started a little fire in the kitchen.”

“Well, he was probably busy and—” you stopped then, and looked over his shoulder at the kitchen behind him. It seemed to be in a good enough shape. “You didn’t burn anything, did you?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he replied. Just as you lifted your eyebrows, unsure if you wanted to know why that was unfortunate, Seonghwa added, “my point is, he doesn’t treat you like that.”

“And you think it’s unfair?” you asked.

“I think he’s in lo—”

“Park Seonghwa!” suddenly thundered in the dorm and both of you flinched, turning your heads towards a very panicked Hongjoong, who was making his way towards you both. He addressed you first, “I didn’t know you were coming over today,” and then he turned to Seonghwa, “and I assume you have somewhere to be?”

Seonghwa shrugged, unfazed. “Actually, no. I—”

“Really?” Hongjoong asked, staring the other member down. “Are you absolutely sure about that?”

Their silent battle lasted for over a minute, neither willing to blink or back out. You were starting to feel left out, but then Seonghwa finally sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Fine. I do have somewhere to be. I’ll figure out where on my way,” he said, not concealing the sarcasm in his words. Then, he bit one more time, shooting you a knowing look, “but just so you both know, you can’t run away from your feelings.”

Hongjoong looked ready to tackle him. “Seonghwa—”

“I’m leaving now,” Seonghwa said, giving you a wave and only grinning at the other boy as he walked past him towards the door. “Have a nice date—I meant, day.”

He dipped his head right on time to avoid the keys that Hongjoong tossed at him, and they rattled loudly to the floor by the front door. You could hear Seonghwa laugh as he leaned down to pick them up on his way out.

“What was that about?” you asked after you heard the front door close.

“Nothing,” Hongjoong answered you with what he considered to be a very smooth, and not at all inconspicuous, lie. “I’m glad you here. Hey, why don’t we hang out in my room since Seonghwa has other plans?”

↣ yunho

He wouldn’t have suffered over your ignorance so badly, if it wasn’t for that stupid kiss at Wooyoung’s birthday party last year. Most unfortunately for Yunho, all the boys knew that he had feelings for you, and all seven of them conspired against him, proposing a game of Truth or Dare just so they could dare him to kiss you.

He did. And, even though that kiss was all he could think about for every single day since it happened, he couldn’t figure out if it meant as much for you, as it did for him.

You kissed him back – he thought you did, but he was hyper-aware of everything in that moment, so he’s not too sure – although, maybe that was only because you felt pressured by your mutual friends, screeching in the background like lunatics.

“What should we do for Wooyoung’s birthday this year?” Yunho tried to ask you, hoping it would sound as subtle out loud, as it had in his head. “Because we should probably try to avoid last year’s disaster, right?”

He laughed in an attempt to seem even more nonchalant, but then ended up having to cover it up with a cough, because his laughter sounded far too desperate to seem realistic.

“I don’t know,” you replied with a shrug, not catching any of his nervousness as you were focused on scrolling through your phone. “I don’t think last year was that bad.”

That was a good sign. Yunho dared to proceed, “really? How about when he suggested Truth or Dare?”

“Very immature of him,” you commented, “but I’m sure that wasn’t even the worst game that he could come up with.”

Huh. Perhaps he’d been too subtle.

“I-if he dares me to do something weird again, I’ll move out, I swear,” Yunho said, happy to see you smile in response, despite the slight tremor in his voice.

“If you mean the kiss,” you started to say, and he could feel the way his heart skipped a beat, “then I think you have to pack your bags. Wooyoung is definitely going to come up with something like that again, you know what he’s like.”

You sounded just indifferent enough about this that he felt bold enough to ask, “and you, uh—you don’t mind that?”

You shrugged again. “What can we do? He’s our friend.”

Alright, that was fair. That was okay. Yunho decided to accept this.

You may not have explicitly said that you enjoyed the kiss, but you didn’t say you hated it, either, and that wasn’t so bad. Not to mention, the fact that you didn’t seem to object against kissing him again was already far more than he expected from this conversation, and he suddenly had something to look forward to.

↣ yeosang

The fact that he knew you loved sweets and so, he brought you chocolates—or any kind of candy he could get his hands on, really—whenever he went to see you, should have been a clear enough indication that he was in love with you, and yet, you—purposefully?—chose not to see it that way.

“Be honest now,” you said as you unwrapped the bag of M&M’s he’d brought for your movie night, “are you feeding me to fatten me up and then cook me?”

He snorted, reaching for a handful of candy when you offered it to him. “Uh, sure. Why don’t you come to my gingerbread house first?”

Smiling, you sat down next to him and handed him the TV remote as it was his turn to pick the movie you would watch.

“Really, though,” you said. “If you’re pulling a Pavlov on me and trying to condition me into feeling happiness whenever I see you, because of the candy, then it’s working.”

“Hey, now, hold on a second,” he put the M&M’s in his mouth, chewed them thoughtfully for a minute, swallowed, and then looked at you with his eyebrows raised. “You only feel happy about seeing me because of the candy?”

“Well,” you blinked, teasing him, “was that not your intention?”

“My intention is to make you happy,” he replied without thinking about it twice.

He regretted saying that as soon as the sentence was out of his mouth – in the words of one Chandler Bing, could he be more obvious? – especially since you gave him a big smile and a pat on the head in response. He was mortified.

“Oh, okay. You’re setting unforeseen standards for all best friends everywhere,” you said warmly, not even realizing the weight—or the impact—of your words. “Thank you for that.”

That hurt a little, he had to admit. It felt like you’d just drawn very clear boundaries for your relationship, and he dreaded to think that it was because he took it too far.

But then, later that same night, you fell asleep on his shoulder before the movie was even halfway through, and he forgot about the hurt and the dread immediately. You were okay. And he was just happy to be here with you.

↣ san

Whenever someone in the room said a joke, his head automatically turned to you, because the sight of you smiling or—please, someone check his pulse—laughing, made his heart feel ten times bigger, and he could barely keep it inside of his chest.

This was insignificant enough so that you didn’t pick up on it, but soon enough, your mutual friends began to exchange glances whenever they caught San staring at you – which was often; he wasn’t exactly clever or subtle about it.

“San, quick question,” Yunho said at one of the house-parties that the boys threw for your mutual friends. Once San turned to look at him, Yunho nodded his head at you. “What color was the shirt that she wore last Friday for dinner at our house?”

“She didn’t wear a shirt, she wore a dress,” San replied immediately. He was already too drunk to sense the older boy’s ruse. “And it was dark red. Why do you ask?”

Because Yunho didn’t actually remember your outfit at all, he needed your confirmation before he could officially declare his mission a success. He turned to look at you, hoping you’d react just like he was expecting you to. And, blissfully, you did.

“I—how do you remember that?” you asked San, your eyes wide.

“Oh,” he hesitated while Yunho was beaming victoriously in the background. “I—I mean, I thought the color made your eyes look nice, so it just—I don’t know. I’m just paying attention. You looked good. Y-you always look—hey, I’m going to get a drink. Want anything?”

He stood up from his seat and didn’t even wait for you to reply before he walked away, mumbling that he was going to “get you a drink anyway”. You looked at Yunho and the shit-eating grin on his face, and raised your eyebrows in question.

“That was weird thing to ask,” you told him.

“Was it?” he said, pursing his lips teasingly. “Or was it his memory that was weird?”

“You heard him,” you retorted. “He said he was paying attention.”

Yunho couldn’t have been grinning wider if he tried, as he watched San return with your favorite drink and then smile at you with the stupidest, most loving eyes that Yunho had ever seen on another person.

“You are so blind,” he said, but you were no longer listening, too captivated by whatever joke San was trying to make, just so he could hear you laugh again.

↣ mingi

He wanted to see you all the time, to the point where the other boys begged you to stay, just so they wouldn’t have to listen to him whine about how he ‘already missed you’ even though you only left not even five minutes ago.

“Please, it’s an emergency,” was the text that you got from San as soon as you unlocked the door of your apartment, having returned from the boys’ place.

Before you could ask what happened, he sent you another text, explaining ominously, “Mingi is dying.”

“Not funny,” you texted back. “What’s going on?”

You didn’t get to read his response because you saw an incoming call from Mingi—clearly not dead yet—himself.

Not bothering to lock the door in case you would have to leave again, you picked up the call in the hallway of your apartment, hoping to hear a proper explanation. “Yeah—?”

“HEY!” Mingi was yelling; very much alive and very loud. “WHATEVER THEY TELL YOU! DO NOT LISTEN TO THEM! THEY ARE LIARS! EVERY SINGLE ONE OF—!”

The line got cut off right after a loud screech somewhere in the background of his call. Completely confused, you removed your phone from your ear and debated if you should call him back and risk becoming a witness to murder, or if it would be better to wait until they all calmed down and told you what was it that happened in the twenty minutes that you weren’t there.

Before you could come to a decision, another text from San popped up on your phone.

“He is lying on the floor, refusing to get up unless you come back,” the messages were saying. It was hard to tell if this was the lie that Mingi had just warned you about.

You began to text back – your heart calmer now you knew that they hadn’t actually murdered him yet – but then a text from Yunho distracted you.

“Could you do me a favor?” one of his texts said. Before you could react, another one showed up, “adopt Mingi please.”

Almost laughing now, you got back to typing your text to San – he seemed to be the one most likely to recap what had happened – but a yet another incoming call from Mingi showed up at the top of your screen.

You took a deep breath before you picked up. Not sure if you’d hear screaming again or not, you didn’t bring your phone to your ear as you answered, wary, “hello?”

“Hi,” Mingi said, his calm voice filling your empty apartment. Relieved that whatever madness, that had overcome them after you left, had passed now, you finally locked your door and sat down on your couch in the living room.

“Hey,” you replied. “What’s going on over there? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Sorry—uh, the guys were just being weird,” he spoke, trying to sound very casual even though he’d just spent the past ten minutes attempting to wrestle seven phones out of seven pairs of hands. “They think I—I don’t know. They think I like you or something.”

“Oh,” that was not the explanation you’d been expecting. “W-why do they think that?”

“Uh—well, I don’t know. It’s dumb, right?” he laughed to conceal the fact that this was only dumb to the extent that he did not, exactly, like you. His feelings for you reached so far beyond that already. “So, anyway, what are you doing? Did you get home safely?”

He changed the topic effortlessly and, based on the way you sighed and didn’t ask any more questions, he’d also managed to avert the crisis. Just because he couldn’t manage to keep it a secret from the other boys, didn’t mean that he also felt ready to tell you about his feelings.

↣ wooyoung

Your friendship with Wooyoung had been by far the weirdest thing to the other boys. You continuously teased and flirted with each other, and – as an expression of peak absurdity – you even held hands sometimes “as a joke”. The hearts in Wooyoung’s eyes clearly showed that he wasn’t the one joking about this.

It ended up being Yeosang, who decided to ask you about this outright, just so they could all know: “so, are you, or aren’t you dating Wooyoung?”

The question seemed to come out of nowhere, and you looked up from your phone, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Come on,” he said, leaning against the wall of the living room where you’d been waiting for Wooyoung to join you. “You’re flirting with each other all the time.”

Scoffing now, you lifted your eyebrows. “What are you talking about? We’re just joking around.”

Yeosang gave you a look. You gave him one right back, seemingly challenging him.

“Okay,” he said, making conclusions about this based on the honesty in your eyes – you genuinely didn’t understand where this was coming from. “Don’t tell me you don’t think he means what he says.”

You were already starting to laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement, but the solemn expression on Yeosang’s face forced you to pause. “He—he does?”

“You don’t?” he shot back.

“I… well—”

“What are the two of you,” Wooyoung suddenly popped up from his room – as he tended to do, being small and fast and unreasonably quiet on his feet – and sat down on the couch next to you, throwing an arm over your shoulders, “talking about?”

His affection suddenly seemed to gain a new meaning and Yeosang, catching the panicked look in your eye, cleared his throat. He realised that he might have unintentionally pointed your and Wooyoung’s friendship in a completely unexplored direction.

“I was just saying how your hair had been looking really nice lately,” Yeosang replied, not wanting Wooyoung to suffocate him with a pillow while he was sleeping if he found out what he’d just done. “A-and she said she thought so, too.”

His face radiating joy – aside from the teasing glint in his eye, of course – Wooyoung turned his head until his face was right in front of yours. “You really think so?”

Yeosang bolted right out of the room before you could reply or, worse, force him to third-wheel while you and Wooyoung finally discussed your feelings.

Because of this, Yeosang didn’t know what the outcome of that discussion was or, actually, if you even had one, because when Wooyoung was walking you to the door at the end of the night, the two of you were holding hands again, like you always were.

↣ jongho

He never said no to you, no matter what. You didn’t think much of it, until he showed up at the game of your favorite team – that he didn’t care much about – to keep you company, because your friend had bailed on you at the last minute. And it didn’t matter that he was sneezing every three seconds and could not say a sentence without bursting into a coughing fit.

“You’re sick,” you declared after three people turned around to give him concerned looks once he sneezed six times in a row. “We have to get you home.”

“No, no,” Jongho replied, sniffling. “The game.”

“I don’t care about the game when you look like you might leave this venue in an ambulance,” you replied, standing up. “Come on, let’s go.”

“No, really, please, I—” he sneezed again, “it’s just allergies or something. I’m okay, let’s—” another sneeze that interrupted his nonchalant shrug. He got to his feet after another person turned around. “Alright fine. But only because I feel like I’m—” one more, “embarrassing you.”

“You’re not embarrassing me,” you replied, taking his hand to guide him down the stands because he looked like he might have toppled over if unsupported. “You’re probably running a fever. Your hand is hot.”

He felt like he was running a fever when you took his hand, but he couldn’t exactly admit that, so he just shrugged—and sneezed—again. He kept coughing all the way home, but that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was that, as soon as you got him to lie down in bed, he had the audacity to say, “I’m sorry I made you miss the game.”

“Why did you come?” you asked, angry that he would ignore his own health like this. “You should have stayed in bed.”

“I wanted to hang out with you today,” he replied, parting his lips to accept the thermometer you’d brought to his face.

“Well, if you’d told me you were sick, I would have come here,” you replied, bringing his duvet up to his chin and then sitting down next to him on the bed.

Lisping due to the device in his mouth, Jongho tried to explain, “but you already had plan’ to th’ee th’ game—”

“I don’t care about seeing anything if you’re sick. You should have told me,” you reprimanded and then mumbled when his thermometer started to beep, “I care about you more than any game.”

“Oh. Hm,” he waited until you took the thermometer out before he said, “I’m sorry.”

And, although you proceeded to scold him for the next fifteen minutes – prompted by whatever numbers you saw on the thermometer – Jongho couldn’t have felt happier. You cared about him more.

mlist | inbox

#ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez friends to lovers au #friends to lovers au #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #seonghwa fluff #hongjoong fluff #yeosang fluff #yunho fluff #mingi fluff #choi san fluff #jongho fluff #wooyoung fluff

2K notes · View notes

tadpole-san · 3 years

Text

sleeping beauty ; j.t.

pairing(s): jason todd x female!reader, established relationship

warning: non, just fluff in general (for once!) and two people who love each other being snarky at one another

a/n: don’t ask me why, or how, but I was just struck with the urge to write for my boy Jay - probably because this tumblr is severely lacking in him - and so this one shot was born in under half an hour and at nearly one in the morning. I also typed the entirety of this on my phone which was not a recommended experience

“You’re sleeping.”

The blatant amusement in Jason’s voice is enough to get your brows to furrow slightly, and you mutter an indignant “No, m’not,” without even bothering to open your eyes.

It’s then that the rhythmic clicking of what you assume to be one of your boyfriend’s guns comes to a stop. He’s been cleaning it for the past half hour - you’re not sure if it’s been the same firearm - but it’s a routine process that’s enough to have pulled you into a light doze, at most. Even in your head, you adamantly refuse to admit that you’d been falling asleep.

The floorboards creak and the mattress dips as you feel even more than hear Jason sit next to you. At your behest, your oh-so-loving boyfriend set up the air mattress for you just hours prior.

Before he proceeded to jump on it the second you finally settled down on it, and all but launched you three feet in the air. He still hadn’t managed to earn your total forgiveness for that stunt.

“Hey.” His voice is practically a low croon that glides rather than cuts through the silence. The sound of him makes you hum appreciatively, lips tugging up into an automatic smile. “You-“ and now he begins emphasizing each word with a kiss up your arm, all the way up to your shoulder, “-are totally asleep.”

When he lightly blows on the back of your neck, you finally react by turning over slightly and making a face at him. “I’m totally awake,” you retort, despite the words coming out as more of a slur than separate vowels. To make your point, you manage to wave the phone that’s still positioned in front of your face at him. “See? I’m on Instagram.”

Jason plucks the device out of your hand, the screen long since darkened. He pretends to hum contemplatively as he switches it on, the sight of your lockscreen bringing an almost boyish grin to his face. He probably thinks you don’t see it, especially through half-lidded eyes, but you do. And you’re glad, because it feels like a treasure.

“Liar,” he tells you, his eyes still not straying from the screen as his thumb absently brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes. You don’t even need to look to know that your wallpaper is a photo from one of your first dates, after you’d gotten the nerve to ask him out to a fair that had been set up down at Gotham Pier. At the time, you had managed to ambush him with the selfie before he could stop you, the moment where he tried to lunge for you after he’d gotten chocolate smeared on himself from indulging in the sugary goodness of churros with you forever frozen in time. “You stopped swiping on the screen twenty minutes ago, babe.”

“You don’t know that,” you insist, blindly reaching up to take a hand through the white streak at his forehead and nearly poking his eye out in the process. His hand finds yours, then, calloused fingers and scarred knuckles covering your own. Playfully, you wiggle your fingers at them and he holds them still so he can press a kiss to your palm.

“Uh huh, princess. Sure I don’t.”

“I’m not a princess,” your protest, but there’s no heat behind the words. Jason quirks an eyebrow at that, a smirk gracing his features. He folds an arm behind his head and offers the other one for you to lay on. You’re quick to take him up on that offer, pushing your pillow to the side.

“You’re my princess,” he says simply. His lips brush against your forehead, and you scoot closer into his side. “My own Sleeping Beauty right now, yeah?”

And it’s hard to argue with that when you can already feel your eyes start to slide shut again, the repeated motions of his fingertips massaging your scalp lulling you back into a deeper rest. You do, however, manage to utter a final only because you asked nicely at him.

This time, you don’t see Jason’s expression. He’s staring at you like you’re all the stars in his world, and he knows he can do it because you won’t see.

“Go to sleep, babe. I’ll be here.”

DC Taglist:

@cipheress-to-k-pop

#🌙#📰.dc #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd x you #red hood imagines #dc imagines #reader imagines

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 3 years

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part i, autonomy in your coherence | c.g

With something like time that runs round with the world — ignoring it’s inhabitants and stealing things that you’d hidden away for safekeeping — you’ve taken up the hobby of art, furiously sketching faces that are six-feet under.

The skill is beautiful and horrific all the same, watching like a person with amnesia as the portraits begin to lose their depth, the freshness, the personality that came free with who you’d chosen to print on the page.

You’ve forgotten your feelings for Carl, because he didn’t feel the same.

You just wished you did a better job at it.

WARNINGS: mentions of death, suicide ideation

this is a continuation of watch you burn away and i recommend you read that, first! this is also part of a series, so here is the masterlist if you need it!

(cross-posted on ao3!)

Your father once told you he had a patient that died from heartbreak.

“Your heart can’t really break, though, right?” You’d said. A doctor for a father and a laboratory technician for a mother made you more than aware of things, seeing through the myths and pretty white lies of figures like Santa and the tooth fairy.

(They had gone through with it anyway, because although their child knew, it was a gateway to normality in such a busy home.)

Your father scratched his chin, unsure how to respond. “My patient had died from a broken heart, though the process wasn’t as simple as it’s term name. A broken heart — the nonliteral meaning — can be the cause and the domino toppling to many things that could lead to death.”

“Like what?” You’d said with little admission into the conversation, having been flicking through a novel you’d picked up a while back (which featured a one eyed pirate and his partner who’d ended up dying in the end — not that you knew, yet, at least.)

“I don’t know, er,” Your father swirled his coffee lightly, gesturing wildly with his free hand, “Mental health issues, for one. Erratic actions, depression, a lost sense of self. Obsession.”

“Huh,” You muttered, looking up at your father for the first time. “A lost sense of self? Really?”

“What is your father teaching you?” Your mother said, stepping into the kitchen with a questioning expression. The conversation ended there, without so much as a thought after.

You wish you pried your father for further answers. What you’d give to get the workaholic of a man to dump his duo psychology medical major thoughts unto you with little care.

The knowledge would be gold in your time of need, when pulling and pushing distance further between you was like venturing through a field of thorns.

(Perhaps you just missed your parents. But that couldn’t be it, right? They’d died and you had lived, their blood on your hands and the gun in your fingers, their glazed over eyes and your own that nearly matched, cold and willing without a drop of emotion.)

But you’d gotten through it for him— without him. Without anyone, quietly harboring scratches and bleeding from the field with little effort.

If someone asked, you would tell them with full and honest confidence that you harboured no more attachments. You were a naive teenager, running through your feet and over yourself for something that was just a crush.

Crushes are — in their whole singularity and purpose — temporary.

They are brief, and momentarily something that causes ripples and waves in your thoughts, just the slightest mention or faint sight makes you detour down a road of sickly sweet dreams and fantasies.

He was first love (like? You didn’t love him, no, it was a crush and it was something for the unattainable and the inappropriate — in which with full truth, he was.) so you poured the honey glazed remembrances and rose coloured lenses over your memories, because he was a first love, and you know that those were cracks in the heart, growing vines and constricting the part that was him — the part that’d always, always be there, without a doubt.

(However much you didn’t want it to be.)

The leaves and the venomous flowers that sprout in decaying grooves come with age, and you are older now.

You bear fresh scars that litter your entire being and wear newly buried bones of people who were once not just that, the dirt still sitting in the crevices of your nails, and you seem to forget their voices with each passing day.

More and more, the faces look like reference art rather than a taken from life picture, which was all telling them to sit still and watching their eyes crinkle at the edges when you show them the result, voices echoing and asking if they could have it.

Everyday, as it has become a peevish habit like biting your nails or obsessively reminding yourself your stove is off, you draw pictures of everyone.

If you are close enough with them, you ask the subject to sit and model for you, analyzing every breath and laugh they take when you crack a joke or engage them in meaningless conversation just to see how the light hits their brows when they raise, the shadows pooling in their aging lines.

Everyday, you wish and hope and even fucking pray that their portraits continue to be something of anxious routine, rather than trying to dump their image out of your head and onto paper so you can see their faces one more time.

His image seems to change with each moment he sits in for you, once a face with two piercing blues, then a patch and eyes that looked at the dusty wooden floor, and later, someone who looks at you straight, something that told you he was a survivor, who bore his battles proudly, the scar on the right of his face sitting ruggedly and bewitchingly.

You draw him, exactly the way you see him, and when you show him the picture, he laughs, and says “You made me look too pretty,” and you shake your head, “It’s exactly the way I see you.”

You do her, too, upon request. When she sits, you draw her almost like it was professional, drawing the curvature of her face with exact precision, intense shading, marking the features she holds. The dip in her nose, the straight of her hair.

(You often forget who you’re drawing in these moments, and when you step away from the canvas you’re hit with whiplash. It’s subconscious, the way you do these things to please him, wanting to see so clearly how his face spreads delicately with delight.)

It takes a little while for you to convince Ron. When you first propose the drawing, he gives you a confused face, before walking off to do shooting practice. He’s gotten better with the gun over the years, and doesn’t respond when you tell him you know why.

(His mother didn’t come out of it alive, and his brother didn’t come back without harm. The younger boy was alive, but would grow up with only his brother by his side and one less limb to account for.)

The second time, he makes a snide comment, albeit with no bite, about how ‘you must be a horrible artist, to ask me of all people to model for you.’

The third time, you’ve dragged him to the small office you makeshifted for the drawings in the garage. He studies every slit of paper you’ve ripped out of your book, the unfinished sketches or yet-to-be painted canvases piling up against the walls. Complete works sit proudly on your wall, displayed for the world to see.

His hands hover over the paints sitting on your desk, charcoal, dirt, sticks, paintbrushes, handmade dyes, wallpaper cut-outs.

“Why?” Ron says curiously.

“‘Why?’ what?” You echo, fiddling with a fork you grabbed from the kitchen, splaying out a thick lather combination of beet dye and cement onto your finger to check the consistency.

“Why do you draw these portraits? I get the others because,” He says, leaving the words “because they’re dead” hanging in the air between you two in mutual and regretful acknowledgement, “But you draw these everyday. You drag Carl and Enid off, or just sit on the benches and draw Maggie and Glenn knee-deep in the dirt.”

You sigh a dreadful breath, wiping the rest of the beet-cement mix onto the page with the pad of your fore-finger. “We’ll forget them one day.”

He looks at you, unblinking. The dead, the gone, and the soon to be long forgotten only existed in your memories, in your words, and when the time came that the world had moved on and stopped, they would cease. Their whole memory relied on the living, nothing about them able to reach and grasp life on their own. Memory was all that was left, and it was all you could do to wash away regret.

“And the rest?”

You bite your tongue hesitantly, your movements rigid, “You see their portraits. Everyday they get less and less coherent. When — when time comes , these drawings will be the only thing getting me by.” You whispered.

The ball had dropped. Coping and grief in it’s big and ugly form, preying on your conscious hungrily, taking shelter in your largest worries. Claws sunken in your flesh, the monster was a thing that felt like it would never go away, because it would loom right alongside death itself, watching and waiting for the moment they’d deemed someones time to have been enough.

(It would never be enough. Enough meant they’d pop in from next door and ask to borrow something, enough meant they’d swipe dirt across your face to make you angry — enough meant they would come in everyday and sit for their portrait once more.)

A creaking on the floorboard caught your attention, eyes watching as Ron’s feet walk to the corner of the room, before hopping onto the wooden seat with little effort.

“I’m not going. I never will. But — do it anyway. I’d… like to see how I look on paper.” He said cheekily, picking up a thin pencil off your desk and handing it out to you.

So you did. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes snowballed into hours in the dim lighting of the garage, asking the blond to turn his body, stretch his head and make different expressions, fulfilling and destroying the little worm of worry sitting in your head.

When you’re done with the charcoal, turning it around for Ron to see and to inspect, he asks, “What about you?”

“And what about me?” You say. His questions never make sense without further discussion, but the boy always has to wait for you to pry and ask him to elaborate.

“You don’t have any drawings of yourself. You’re the artist, the photographer, the one who makes these things that will stay longer than the memories and the words — so what about you?”

It’s rare that Ron delves into his emotions and the things he really means, but when he does, it’s something that stays, for a long while.

“I,” You didn’t have an answer for it. You weren’t one to do a self-portrait, it not being the same as having someone to sit and take from. “I don’t want to.” You finished simply, an ice cold realization coming to reality in you.

“Why?” He says the same words as before, but the words hold a heavy weight.

“I don’t know.”

You knew.

Maybe one day, you’d wished that you’d wash away like seafoam on the beach. You wouldn’t leave a single portrait behind of you, and the memories and the words were left mum behind his lips, because you knew how he got in a loss.

Quiet and unfeeling, it was so selfish of you that you’d counted on how he got in that state to leave you behind, neglecting you like the fruits of your memories you’d never get to bear.

Ron’s gaze bore into you like he knew exactly what you were thinking, telepathically taking in every thought you’d conveyed at your dispense.

“You should.” Is all he says, before stepping off the wooden stool and out the door.

What was wrong with you? You feel so… entirely foolish. Obsolete. Embarrassing.

You walked past the remnants of those who were gone everyday, obsessively creating canvas over canvas of them and the only thing you could think was that you’d wish to position yourself beside them?

This world was catching up to you, and fast, but you’d just have to run faster than it could.

#twd #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #chandler riggs #angst #the walking dead #twd x reader #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead carl #carl grimes x you

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