#it’s early and i am feeling my oats

[amongotherchoices]

Oops.

#me #gay #selfie #dad vibes #it’s early and i am feeling my oats

[occamstfs]

Diet Diaries

Hi all! Thank you so much for 500 followers! Here's a little style switch up to celebrate, got a lotta refs in this one and I quite leaned into the diary entries so I hope it's not too much! Hope y'all enjoy this stereotype reversal and as always, best! -Occam

Monday March 21st-

Andy:

I am beyond sick of Steve. Moving in together was a mistake, I don’t care how cheap the rent is, he is a narcissistic slob and I am eager to never see him again. Well no, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Our R.A. had this idea to try and walk in each other's shoes, which I don’t know? It might not be the worst thing? My big idea was switching diets actually- honestly I’m just hoping if he ate more like me he’ll stop stinking up the dorm. I can dream at least. Literally though he just can’t go to the gym as often if he eats like me. If I'm lucky at the very least his deodorant will last longer, I cannot take another day of his b.o. seeping through the walls, ugh! Anyway, wish me luck! I’m sure this will be a breeze for me, he usually just eats junk anyway, hope he enjoys my salads~

Steve:

Andy that little fucker. He was being such a little bitch to James and now I’ve gotta eat his rabbit food for a week or lose this bet or whatever. Steve don’t lose tho. Lil twink’s gotta eat whatever I make him too and you can bet your ass I’m gonna make him match my macros if I’ve gotta starve myself like he wants. Fuck! This shit is going to absolutely tank my routine! I’ve gotta make Andy give up. I’m gonna go so hard on him he’ll have to hit weights if he doesn't want to blow up like a pig. Maybe then he’ll stop bitching any time I don’t fucking shower every time I get back home. 

Tuesday March 22nd-

Andy:

My Lord! He is trying to kill me! I don’t know how anyone could consistently eat as much as he’s telling me to. I’m so bloated from all this food.. He looks so smug every time he tells me to keep eating, I’m sure he doesn’t eat like this. He’s just trying to break me but I’m not going to let him win this easy.

Ugh, I feel so bloated my pants are so tight on my waist. I didn’t think meat sweats were a thing but man I am needing to put on deodorant like twice a day now and I’m not even exercising. I will say that now that I’m eating so much, I don’t hate the idea of going to the gym. It’s been a while since I went but I should probably at least hit up the treadmill lest I get even more of a gut- maybe I’ll see if he wants to go tomorrow. This is all just an exercise to understand each other more after all, no need to make it a stupid competition like he wants eh~

Steve:

Fuck! I am so tired of Andy’s pussy-ass diet. I had absolutely no energy at the gym today, I told all my bros that I was just gonna take it easy but fuck! I really was working my ass off and I struggled to even meet a PR I set last week. It was supposed to be a push day and I didn’t even get a chest pump! Why the fuck am I still going. I’m abso-fucking-lutely not getting gains on his fuckin’ bitch-ass salads and oats.

Eatin’ like a fucking twink and the fucker has the nerve to ask to go to the gym with me tomorrow. I’ll make sure he regrets that >:) Gonna work him like a horse so he’ll throw in the towel! After feeling how sore actually working on yourself makes ya, he might actually learn something. I’ll turn in early so I can go all out and show him what a real man looks like.

Wednesday March 23rd-

Andrew:

Man! I totally get why Steven eats so much now~ I am absolutely raring to go and get this; He said I could go to the gym with him today! He even seemed like he wanted me to go with him! I feel like I have more energy than I’ve ever had before, I might even try some weights!! I don’t know but I’m so excited! It’s like I can feel my chest and biceps begging me to go and hit some iron haha! Or whatever those “bros” say~ I hope he’s got something good planned for lunch because I fuck Sorry! I just want to show him that I can do all this dude stuff too! I’m a man right? I guess all this protein is making me feel more like a man than usual idk. Either way though I’m ready to go! Hope we have some fun!

Steven:

That bitch’s fuckin’ fru fru salads are ruining my PR’s for sure! I bet he knew that when he begged me to take him to the gym today, knew it was the only time he could show off to me was when I’m so out of it. And he didn't! Just to be clear I could still wipe the floor with  him even if I’m not at my A-game. Ugh, I do gotta hand it to the little fucker though. I KNOW he hasn’t even really set foot in a gym before but man. Beginners luck my ass, as soon as I showed him a technique he lifted like he’s been doing it his whole life! It’s like I could see his pecs and tris swelling up with each lift. Not that I was staring at the bitch or anything but he’s just I just need this fuckin’ diet thing to end so I can get back to my grind, I guess I wouldn’t hate taking him to the gym more often, would be hot to make a bitch into a bro Fuck! What am I writing, I just need to lift again.

Thursday March 24th-

Andrew: 

Bro! Weird? Whatever, I am absolutely on fire! Steven’s diet is absolutely killer! I don’t know how it’s working so well but man I couldn’t care less, I felt like a pro in there! My coaches in school would always shit on me for not trying but man! I was barely trying yesterday but I could tell from the look on Steven’s face that I was acing it! I guess I’ll have to admit to him that he is definitely onto something with his macros but man, not until he gives up haha! Man, I need to chill haha, it’s not like I’m any stronger than I was Monday but man, looking at myself in the mirror it just seems like my clothes are just fitting better. Catching on my chest rather than my stomach y’know? I’ve never noticed that there is muscle on my arms before but man the way my sleeves are kinda hugging my biceps mm. I need to chill haha! Can’t use all my energy before hitting the gym again today!

OH! Also totally weird, I’ve had to shave twice this week! Once last night and then again this morning which is so weird! I’m not complaining though, it’s not like I wouldnt look hot with a beard right? Although my face is a little itchy already, my chest too? Whatever though haha! Time to head back to the grind lol!

Steven:

God!! Andy Andrew is being such an asshole! He’s clogging the sink shaving which I know he would so be on my ass if I had done that. Wait, he did get on my ass for shaving! But it hasn’t been a problem this week, it’s like I’m not even growing stubble for some reason? Probably from not working so hard at the gym, is that how that works? Whatever it’ll be over as soon as this stupid diet thing is. We’re halfway through now. Thank God! Because that fucking twink is starting to stink up the dorm which again!! He was such a little bitch all the time to me about that! It’s like he’s literally stopped using deodorant as soon as he started needing it! He’s never exerted himself in his life and now that his pits are sweating at all he’s suddenly allergic to hygiene, ugh! I saw last night too the fucker fell asleep with his head in his pit too so it’s not like he doesn’t know it. 

It was a little surprising actually, cause I would’ve sworn he was hairless like one of those freak cats but man his pit was as thick as my pubes! Thicker maybe, uh? Man I wish I could get that image out of my head, it’s like the tuft was pushing out further each time he inhaled, man that’s kinda hot? Fuck! I swear this twink-ass diet is making me think like him too. I need to sneak to the gym later, without him. I cannot have him getting ahead even while I’m still on his chickenshit diet.

Friday March 25th-

Steven:

Ah!! That Little bitch! He was already at the gym when I got there! Ugh! It makes me want to punch a wall, or fight him. Or something I dont know! It’s just, he was lifting my body weight on the bench when he saw me, it was so ho ugh! It doesn’t matter what it was, I can’t stop thinking of that smug look on his face- what I would give to wipe it off… That absolute prick knew what he was doing. Ugh, speaking of pricks! He may as well have not been wearing shorts at all by how much his cock was showing through them.

I knew my meal prepping was fucking tight but man, I can’t believe hot its made him. It just really fucking turns me on, or no its such a turn on for chicks. Yeah. Whatever. I need this bet to end already. Clearly he’s totally obsessed with my lifestyle so he should just admit it already! Also, hate to say it, but to Andrew’s credit his diet ain't too bad either. I’d never tell him this, and it is all a little emasculating but my skin has never looked this good. I’m not even doing skincare or anything but it’s like I’ve been on a routine for years, it’s crazy! It’s still ruining my upper gains but man, my ass looks so good it's crazy..

Oh also re: facial hair, I woke up this morning and could’ve sworn I used to have chest hair but now it looks like I’ve got just a little left around my nipples and leading up from my pubes? I might go ahead and shave those too, might as well be totally smooth like a chick right haha, I wonder what Andrew would think? I need to chill haha, maybe I’ll go see if he’s still at the gym~

Andrew:

Fuuuuck dude lol. I should’ve started hitting up the gym ages ago. Don’t know what I was even wasting time on before I started doing twice-a-days? Studying I guess but I can figure that shit stuff out hm. Fuck it is so much better to be strong than a dweeb. Every set it feels like I’m just busting out new PR’s! Gonna need to buy new clothes though cause I am absolutely tearing up my crop tops, my twinky little wardrobe just isn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe Steven’d be down for a clothes swap, I’ve seen him eying up my fits all week, god knows he’ll fit them better lol. Oh haha, and speaking of him eying things up >:) You should’ve seen his little face blush when he walked into the gym this morning! He looked so pissed at me lol, but I’m not gonna grab him to come along every time I need to get some sets in right? It was pretty embarrassing for him yesterday anyway, the way I showed him up lol. I’m not just gonna sit around and watch him not lift weights when I can figure this shit out myself, thought it was supposed to be his thing though lol.

Mm, saying that though, I def didn’t hate having a little audience from his treadmill. God, his blushing face as he stared directly at my work-out chub. Fuck, it really got me going. It really helped my sets too haha. Maybe I should hit him up lol, I can tell how bad he wants me >:)

Saturday March 26th-

Stevie:

Ugh! That douche is walking around the dorm completely shirtless! Do you know what it’s like to have an oaf flexing away across the room from you 24/7! He knows what he’s doing, and thank god my dick isn’t showing through my shorts like I thought it usually does because he might literally pounce on me then-

Ugh! I didn’t even mention this morning. I literally woke up to him jacking off his morning wood! Do you know what a bitch-fit he would have thrown if I did that! He would’ve filed a police report, probably the dweeb, or. I guess I could too?? But it was just so fucking hot. I tried to pretend I was asleep, but he totally caught me. He literally smirked and made eye contact as he finished too- thank god he didn’t see my boner as he asked if I wanted to clean up his mess. He’s such an ass! 

I still have a boner now actually, it’s his B.O. driving me actually crazy! It’s like I can’t think near him if he’s going to stink this bad god.. Oh, he’s doing pullups on the door frame fuck. He’s supposed to be hairless but I see sweat dripping from his pits god I can't. God with each pull up his chest looks even more powerful. His cock is bobbing up and down in his pants and I can not look away. Fuck it’s getting even bigger. I’m supposed to be the strong one right? It’s not, fuck. This isn’t right. He just so fucking, god that body, I need him-

And Drew:

Heh. I knew that fucking twink couldn’t resist me. Every little thing I do wraps him even tighter around my finger. Every flex and smirk turns him on even more I bet he can’t even think straight the way his little dick is losing it in his briefs- I took all his jocks since I’m sure he would need them anymore. Bet the little bitch didn’t even remember they were his.  

Might as well have been drooling when he saw me jacking my cock this morning lol, surprised he didn’t take me up on the offer to lick up the mess. I know he wanted to lol. He’ll get the chance soon enough though >:) God it’s a two-way street though. That fucking twink is so fuckable now, thank god he doesn’t need to shave anymore, don’t want his peachfuzz scratching my cock cause god that mouth is so fuckable now.. To say nothing of his fucking juicy ass, god! I’ve been working out in the room all morning waiting for him to give in and ask me to fuck him, idk if I can hold it in much longer. I might need to jack it again, my balls are bluer than I ever thought they could be, fuck. It’s like they're sore. Ugh I feel them getting heavier, heh, that little fucker cant resist though. God I feel precum starting to pool in my jock. If I put my pit within a foot of his face I give him five before he can’t help but shove his face in. I need to fuck him, but as if I’m going to let him see how desperate I am. Stevie that little fucker. He’ll be riding my cock any second now.

Sunday March 27th-

Stevie:

Fuck <3 !! He finally fucked me!! God, it was like nothing I’ve experienced before~ His cock was like a beer can and goddd the scratch of his beard as we were making out.. Hehe if I keep thinking about him I might just cum again right now! He can fully toss my body like a ragdoll and I’d thank him ugh! He’s just so hot, and to think he wants to fuck me!! Ah~ I’ll need to keep myself pretty so he won’t get tired of me hehe! Not that it’ll be a problem, I just need to keep on his diet, God who knew it would be this good! I don’t even remember whatever problems we had before all this and I can’t imagine anything better than getting fucked by him <3 Ah! He he~ He’s staring at my ass right now so I guess it’s time for another round! Can’t thank our R.A. enough for this idea, well he he I’ve got an idea for how to thank him, oh! Drew’s ripped off his jock! Wish me luck he he~

Drew:

My little bitch is so tight, fuck. I’m surprised he can even take my cock but god can he ride it. Gonna have a hard time taking a break from fucking him to even hit the gym. Need to make sure the twink keeps up the diet tho or we’ll have an issue. Be sure to make him come to the gym whenever I do, if not to tighten up then to watch me heh. Won’t hate fucking him in the locker room too. Mm, God his fucking tiny body makes me feel so powerful. And I fucking am. God my bis are the size of his thick thighs, fuck his ass. My cock is straining my jock just thinking about it. His tiny waist ugh, I need my sweaty body over him now. Not like he’ll mind, the horny fucker. Mmm hope he’s ready to take my cock, bet his mouth is already watering heh. Pop my pecs at him and he’ll struggle not to cum on the spot, he better keep it together until I let him though. Can’t be having my bitch blow his load that fast. Thank fuck he’s chilled out finally, though I guess my cock’ll work wonders on anyone >:) speaking of it’s about that time again. Hope he’s ready for some more action, hate to have to find another hole.

#male tf #mental change #masculinization #twinkification #jockification #straight to gay

[missydior]

PRETTY IN PINK ୨୧

♡: when an unfamiliar face tries to steal you away, oscar is there to remind them that you are his.

notes: oscar piastri/reader, established relationship, protective & somewhat possessive demeanour, unwelcome attention from strangers, pet names, fluff, kisses & hugs.

– based on this request ☁️

word count: 1.8k

a/n: thank you nonnie & i love this req since i am the pretty-pink girl of my neighbourhood lol. as some know, i am not much of a lover of toxic tropes or that dark romance genre so i apologise if this isn’t the kind of ‘possessive’ you were thinking of, i was craving some soft & loving osc. <3

♡ ✧ 。*・.

The aroma of petrichor against warm pastries from the L'Amour du Pain Vieux bakery nearby lingers, skies over Montréal grey with the lull of clouds where hints of the early afternoon light dance through and upon the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve below, a gentle remnant of dampness about the smooth stone streets from rainfall earlier in the hour that has since come to a halt.

With qualifying to commence in a few hours – highlighting the true beginning of the Canadian Grand Prix where your boyfriend hopes to secure the finest result possible – there is a heightening feel about the paddock as you wander through, latte of oat-milk and vanilla balanced in one soft-skinned hand, donned in your favourite, little dress like blushing, pale peonies.

After an early albeit comfortable, familiar morning waking beside Oscar in your shared hotel suite amongst the quiet luxury of pretty, minimal décor – mussed bed sheets of lush cotton, cashmere throws and interlocked limbs – shared, slow kisses and breakfast consisting of sweet, syruped pancakes and coffee, before greeting the true day ahead, you are most excited.

Amongst conversational journalists with inviting, saccharine smiles merely for enticement and photographers who do not hesitate to notice your face, the lovely and pretty diamond that is Oscar Piastri's lovable girlfriend, you have never quite opposed to the media attention so long as you have him by your side.

"Hm." Chanel ballet flats of embroidered ivory and light-pink clicking on the path, comforted by your sweet treat in hand whilst balancing your iPhone in the other – a brief conversation with your lover concluding he would be busy for another couple of minutes at least due to press conferences – you are mostly contently lost in your own daydreams.

"Excuse me?"

It is the sound of a voice addressed in your direction that has you faltering in your gait, pretty head tilting just the slightest to glimpse over your shoulder just as the sudden voice and approach of a male has you somewhat shy.

"Sorry, I feel like I know you from somewhere," He is youthful, perhaps the same age or a year older than the aforementioned by looks, dressed rather comfortably in a clean, white shirt of linen only half-buttoned against the beige hues of his trousers, Française Cartier watch glinting on his wrist.

His mouth curves on a smile, eyes like caramel dancing over your face and lower until he allows himself the fleeting, silent glance at how the neat edges of your mini dress hug your thighs before straightening his stance once again, lithe fingers threading through his styled, light hair.

The words leave you a touch perplexed given you certainly do not recognise him and lack any recollection of his face, laughing uncertainly as you tuck a stray hair behind the shell of your ear with the clink of a rose quartz bracelet about your wrist, the sound sweet as an angel's.

"I'm sorry, I don't think–"

"It's alright, I don't either." The man continues with an amiable shrug as though pretending to understand or assume what you had been meaning to say, countenance turning more charismatic on the edge of a revealed dimple, "My name's Jacques, love."

There is something in his gaze and the execution of his demeanour which has you hesitating, rosebud mouth parted ajar whilst you glance about momentarily even when the hint of a natural, polite smile remains.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Jacques," You reply quietly, the expression you hold towards him is a pleasant one despite yourself, although not enough to reveal the slight discomfort that lurks in the depths of your stomach, "But my boyfriend is–"

"Right here."

As if the mention or mere thought of him was an innate manifestation, you are greeted with the presence of a certain, handsome individual where you recognise the warmth of his aura just as fingertips are felt on the curve of your vertebrae against a splayed palm.

You cannot deny or refuse the immediate beginnings of a soft smile and the ease flourishing within you as soon as his touch is known, the lingering scent of his cologne with hints of patchouli and rosewood permeating, an incline of your head allowing gazes to meet momentarily in mutual greeting.

He stands tall beside you, the limb draped around your waist a familiar presence whilst eyes of an intimate, rich hue that remind you of coffee and autumn dance between yourself and the other man who now stands a touch awkwardly with a dissuaded visage.

"Is this man bothering you, princess?" His tone is honey-like, a smooth and lowered baritone that you adore, though there is the telltale sign of his fingertips that press a touch firmer against your hipbone, and the arch of a brow, that demonstrates the silent brewing of protectiveness in the midst of his affections for you. Oscar Piastri is an affectionate sweetheart, true to his feelings and honest in generosity with the renowned presence of patience, though can be a defensive figure when the subject concerns his girl.

"Not really. He was just being friendly," Your cadence is light and sweet with imploration, the subtle gesture of a kiss left against his cheekbone in comforting warmth as you balance on the edge of your toes momentarily.

You are sweet, almost too much so with your pretty looks and the faint glimpses of innocence there even though you know exactly where you stand; it has Oscar longing to return to the quiet privacy of home where nobody will harass you both for attention, where he can have you to himself even if only for a little while.

Jacques chuckles, almost uncertainly in a manner that juxtaposes his previous incentive whilst tucking one palm into the concealing wool of his tailored slacks when he nods, "I was just saying 'hello', no harm done."

The Australian does not seem particularly reassured though there is no instigation for a disagreement, looking over the other only a moment longer without another word before he's silently coaxing you against his side when he walks with a gait somewhat quicker than his usual.

"Wait," Your kissable lips touch a little downward in uncertain wonder, though you follow his guidance easily, a touch intrigued by his lingering silence that lacks explanation, "Where are we headed? Was I doing something wrong?"

There is no initial comfort or answer to your inquiries as he looks forward, evidently lost to his own thoughts whilst internally calming himself from the dwindling ache of his possession over you, a muscle in the line of his jaw shifting almost imperceptibly.

A boring press conference consisting of being asked the same questions like a repetitive, tedious dance had already left him a touch bitter, and the sight of a stranger trying to steal his girlfriend's attention away only aggravates him further.

Eventually, your shared walk leads to the quieter alcoves of the McLaren hospitality comforts until he's nudging you backwards through a white-varnished door, breathing in the sweetness of your perfume – Good Girl: Blush – with hints of almond against sweet peonies, vanilla and coumarin.

"You weren't doing anything wrong," Oscar murmurs, his arm entwined securely about your figure as his lips ghost over the outer shell of your ear near the glimmer of divine, embellished earrings he gifted you on your birthday after he had seen you admiring them through the glass of a jewellery shop once, swallowing slowly.

It is a quiet, comfortable room – one that he often confides in the refuge of when in need of fleeing from the never-ending attention and demands of his profession, an inviting, plush chaise lounge of white cushioning, shelves and cupboards of various items.

Your glossed lips touch into a delicate pout of mystery, a gentle sound of consideration and acknowledgement leaving the back of your throat whilst arms drape loosely around his neck, the edges of your thumbs tracing along his nape where you feel the soft hairs there.

"Then what was it?"

"Nothing." It is an uncharacteristically brief reply, though the manner his lightly-calloused palms cradle the small of your waist until he cannot quite restrain himself from the tightened grasp there with a brief glance towards the closed door, exhaling through his teeth in some kind of defeat, "I'm... Do you want me to be honest?"

The question is uttered so softly that the question leaves you a fraction breathless, heart thrumming within the interns of your rib cage like a dove locked away as you nod.

"I always want the truth from you, Ossie," You respond in a lull so saccharine it sounds like a sing-song of delight, the edge of your index finger and thumb dancing downwards against the soft fabric of his sweater before pausing when you meet his eyes through your lashes.

Oscar sighs, though there is the slightest of reservations of a smile the corners of his mouth at the manner in which you address him, a nickname reserved especially for when the two of you are alone together and intimate.

He does not immediately bless you with an answer, tilting your head towards him in silent, shared invitation before your mouths melt together. It is slow and sweet, tasting one another and your belongings forgotten on the nearby, makeshift desk of polished oak, a sweetened hint of café au lait on your tongue.

"Seeing that man," He begins between chaste kisses, not quite allowing you the liberty of shying away as he holds you close until your back nudges the ivory-coated wall behind, near drawn photographs of memorabilia from old Grand Prixes, "And how he looked at you, it made me want to–"

He pauses, inhaling audibly as though trying to meditate on his own emotions in that moment, his hands feeling over your body like a sculptor and his finest work before he swallows the remainder of his sentence with a kiss.

Oscar Piastri is an undeniably attractive man when he's possessive over you, touching every inch of you like his belongings, muttered sweet nothings and vows of devotions against your tongue. It is a warm feeling, knowing he will always protect you without hesitance. And he does, cherishes you like the pretty doll you seem to be, because he cares in some earnest, undying reality.

"I love you."

The punctuation of another kiss, "I love you more." And he traces the jut of your ribs through the thin, velveteen fabric of your rosé dress when he holds you close until you're flush together, sighing against your lips, "I will never let anybody hurt you, ever. Understood?"

"I understand."

♡ ✧ 。*・.

#୨୧ my works #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

[lolasimms]

hcs about your married life with abby pls 🙇🏽‍♀️

wife abby headcanons pt.1

part 2 part 3

౨ৎ she’s an early bird and is almost always up at 6 am.

౨ৎ starts her morning off with cuddling you and then she’s off to the gym.

౨ৎ you wake up to an empty bed most mornings which usually you rant to her about.

౨ৎ your breakfast is usually simple, overnight oats and fruit, which she bullies you for.

౨ৎ she on the other hand insists on eating a high protein breakfast, for “gains”.

౨ৎ she’s a certified gym rat, which you find super hot.

౨ৎ when you’re really horny she takes pre-workout to make sure her stamina is up for you.

౨ৎ this usually leaves you saddle sore and aching for the next two days

౨ৎ she gets off on your overly domestic nature, especially when you take care of her.

౨ৎ if she’s got a cold or a throat infection you always pamper her and insist on feeding her soups and tea.

౨ৎ most weekends are spent lounging around the house as she’s not a very social person, neither are you.

౨ৎ some weekends are also spent at her father, Jerry’s place.

౨ৎ the three of you make dinners, play board games and he loves breaking out the photo album to embarrass her.

౨ৎ she earns a lot (she’s a doctor) so she’s always spoiling you.

౨ৎ loves to wine and dine you, especially when you both have time off work.

౨ৎ she can only cook staple meals, so she’s always impressed by the food you make for her.

౨ৎ she tends to overwork herself and usually comes back home tired.

౨ৎ despite the fact that she comes home exhausted she still insists on pleasing you.

୨୧

“Abs we shouldn’t, you just got off a 12 hour shift, you need to rest.” You press your wife but she’s ignoring you and pulling you into her.

“Doesn’t matter baby, I’m perfectly fine. Need to please my wife, you know what they say.” Both her hands are griping your thighs and pulling you towards the end of the bed.

“What do they say?” You question, accepting defeat, and allowing her to manhandle you.

“Happy wife, happy life.” In one quick motion, she’s tugged your pyjama shorts, along with your underwear off.

“What if you fall asleep mid eating pussy and I crush you to death?”

“Trust me baby, death by your pussy would probably be the best way for me to die.”

You tried scooching up toward the pillows , but Abby’s hands had a tight grip on your thighs. She wasn't going to let you get away. You were all the way at the end of bed now with her head in between your legs. She was tasting every bit of you, nibbling and marking you up. Your hands made their way to her hair, grabbing handfuls as her tongue swiped over your clit. All feelings of exhaustion from her taxing 12 hour shift were thrown out the window once she got to taste you, and you were fucking enjoying it.

You gasped. "Mmm...Abs..." Abby was loving every minute as she lapped you up. She pulled you closer, practically burying her face in your pussy. Your moans only added fuel to the fire burning inside of her. She was sucking your clit now and you could hear how wet you were for her. As she worked your cunt, two of her fingers were deep inside of you, fucking you for all you were worth and drawing a whimper from your throat. She was so fucking enthusiastic about eating your pussy and damn good at it too.

"Fuck, you taste so sweet." She panted, her breath like fire against your skin. "Gonna make you cum for me."

୨୧

౨ৎ The two of you love watching tv shows together, though she has a habit of not paying attention.

౨ৎ You’ll be well into a show and she’ll be wondering where a certain character went, when they got killed off like 5 episodes ago.

౨ৎ Falls asleep in your lap while you’re watching movies and shows because the poor thing works so hard.

౨ৎ Your name in her phone is ‘wifey’

౨ৎ Once again, she loves to spoil you, against your will of-course.

౨ৎ Buys you things if you look at them for even a second too long.

౨ৎ Her anniversary presents are always the best.

౨ৎ She insists that you don’t buy her stuff simply because you being her wife is enough.

౨ৎ On your 5 year wedding anniversary you open a box that has a pregnancy test in it, as you’d been discussing having children.

#female reader x abby anderson #abby anderson fluff #wife abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #abby anderson fic #reader x abby anderson

[auteurdelabre]

PLEASE, MISTER MILLER? (Sequel part 5) BFDJoel! x f!Reader

Chapter summary: You and Joel navigate long distance, your parents and the realization that college graduation is just around the corner.

series masterlist

rating: 18+

a/n: Y'all this chapter is a fuckin beast. I had to break it up because its lookin' like another marathon chapter and I am a slut for comments so I had to break it up. Please comment, reblog, all that good juju and you'll make your girl real happy.

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I miss you. 

[HIM💜]Miss you too, baby. 

Send me a pic. 

[HIM💜]

NOT THAT KIND. 

[HIM💜]

Much better. You're cute, Miller. 

[HIM💜] You're not so bad yourself, Snowflake. 

I wish you were here, Joel. I keep waking up thinking you'll be next to me. 

[HIM💜] I feel the same, baby. I keep looking over in bed expecting to see you and that way you smile when you’re all sleepy. Then I get all blue when it's nothing but empty mattress.  

[HIM💜] Is it cheesy if I say I can't wait to hold you again?

Not at all. I’m counting down the days until graduation.

[HIM💜] Coming up quick. You excited?

Sorta. What are you doing right now?

[HIM💜] You alone?

Yep. 

[HIM💜 CALLING]

Joel's face pops up on your phone, smiling at you from what looks like a hardware store. Warmth floods you as you gaze at him. You see that he’s dressed casually, a grey t-shirt over his broad torso, a baseball cap over his tussled curls. 

"Hey, baby." He smiles broadly at you and you swear you can feel your heart skip a beat.

"Where are you?"

"Paint store." He holds up a color swatch if several shades of dark green. "Whadda ya think of this color?"

He holds the simple up closer to the camera. Some of his curls peek out near his neck under his hat. You can still feel their silken texture wrapped around your fingers like some sensual ghost. 

Fuck you miss him.

"Nice," you offer. "What's this for?"

"Wanna repaint my bedroom," he says grinning like an excited schoolchild.

“Why are you repainting your bedroom?” You ask amused. Joel’s face contorts from beaming excitement to a somber flinch and you regret asking it.

"Tess moved out last weekend," Joel says almost timidly. “And uh, I wanted to repaint. Fresh start and all that.”

Your stomach jumps at those words. Tess moved out. For the past few months you and Joel have been in regular contact via phone and texting. He mentioned that the divorce papers were drawn up, that Tess had agreed to it with an almost upsetting lack of emotion. But actually knowing that she had moved out? That feels momentous.

"Woah, so it's really over," you croak with a nervous shiver breaking out along your body. 

"Was over for a long time, baby," Joel assures you. "This just makes it official."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just feel guilty. Feel like I should be more upset but I'm just so fucking relieved." 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You pause, uncertain where you two stand. Yes you said you wanted to continue this together. But what does that mean exactly? Maybe now that Joel is single again he’ll want to play the field. And why not? He’s early forties, gorgeous and has the most wonderful, caring personality of anyone you’ve ever met. Why wouldn’t he want to sleep around and have fun before committing himself to a relationship again?

"You've gone quiet, baby."

You give a smile to yourself. "Just thinking."

"Thinkin' 'bout what?"

"Just that you're getting divorced, and maybe... Maybe you want to sow your wild oats or something." You cringe at your phrasing. "Maybe you don't wanna be tied down in a relationship right away.”

You aren't expecting the sharp laugh from over the line. You love how his eyes crinkle when he smiles at you. You watch him move to a corner of the store that’s a little quieter, a little more private. Then he switches the call to voice only. You raise the phone to your ear, heart thudding.

"Don't you think you're the one that should be sowing wild oats?" Joel chuckles. "You're the one in her twenties."

"Nah, I've done enough of that," you admit shyly. 

"So've I," Joel tells you and he sounds earnest. 

"Maybe you don't wanna be tied down in a relationship you know?" You offer feebly. "I mean, maybe you wanna date around or... I dunno."

You trail off feeling embarrassed. 

"Only interested in datin' one girl and it's the one I’m talkin’ to," Joel says evenly. "Same girl who has me smiling like a fuckin' idiot at my phone so much my brother commented on it at work."

You can't help but blush, even though he's not even there to see it. "Yeah?"

"Yep. Had to tell him it was a dating app just so he'd leave me alone."

You laugh at the thought. You don't know Tommy other than what Joel tells you, but he sounds like trouble. The fun kind.

“I’m lookin’ very forward to seein’ her next month,” Joel offers and you feel your lower belly pool with arousal at the sound.  “Thought I’d book us in at the same hotel but only one bed this time.”

“Mmm I’d like that,” you coo, sighing softly at the thought.

“Yeah?” Joel’s voice is so low it’s a purr. “Eager to make up for lost time?”

“Mhmmm.” You can’t help but feel the tug of lust skittering across your body. “I can’t stop thinking about all the things I wanna do to you, Mister Miller. My pussy is dripping just thinking about it. How do you wanna fuck me first?”

“Fuck,” Joel hisses out and you giggle at the sound. He turns the phone back to face time and you see his pupils blown wide.

“Don’t do that to me here, honey. Not while I’m lookin’ at paint samples. Now, be a good girl and tell me, what do you think of this one?"

He holds up the paint sample again. It’s a dark green, too dark for a bedroom in your opinion. But You think back to sitting on the hotel bed with Joel during your time together. Of him telling you that Tess took control of everything down to the color of his bed sheets and you hesitate.

You don’t want to do that to him. You don’t want to control him.

"I like it," you answer, narrowing your eyes slightly. "It's just..."

"What?"

Joel is frowning at the screen now, looking concerned at your thoughtful silence. He raises a brow when you look back at the phone. 

"It's a really nice color," you concede. "I love green."

"But?"

"But nothing."

"Baby," Joel says gently, a softness in tone that draws your gaze to his waiting eyes. "C'mon now, no lies here."

"Doesn't matter what I like."

"Matters to me."

You feel anxiety pricking at your body, making you nibble the inside of your cheek. Joel watches you through the phone, you see people wandering the aisle behind him. 

"I think it might be too dark," you finally offer. "But that's only because to me a bedroom should make you feel calm and relaxed. I've always been partial to blues. But honestly, Joel, that's just personal preference. You should get what you're drawn to. With all that green it's like you're sleeping in the forest which I know you like."

Joel nods, lower lip stuck out in thought. All of a sudden you hear a key at your door and you panic.  

"Shit, I gotta go."

The call ends just as Sarah walks into the dorm room yawning. She almost trips over the cardboard boxes the two of you had been packing earlier.

"I'm so sick of essay formatting," she says with a groan as she tosses her backpack onto the ground. 

"Same." You peek at her over your phone. "There's an iced coffee for you in the fridge."

"Have I told you lately that I love you?" Sarah sings, taking the coffee from the fridge and throwing herself on the bed next to you.  

You wouldn't love me if you knew why I bought it.

You give a short smile, giggling as she rubs her shoulder next to yours, urging you to give her more room on your bed. She's often remarked that despite you both having the same college -dorm -issued mattress that yours is far more comfortable. 

“It’ll all be worth it when I’m walking around South America with Charlie this summer,” Sarah sighs. “Three whole months of museums and delicious food and-“

“Fucking,” you finish for her. She blushes wildly before pushing you with her arm.

"I feel like you've been buying me a ton of stuff lately," Sarah muses all of a sudden. "You never let me pay for dinner and this is like the tenth time you've had coffee waiting for me. What gives?"

You force a natural looking smile on your face. 

"Dunno. Guess since we won't be roommates next year I'm just trying to enjoy you while I can."

And because I've been fucking your dad in secret for months and have no intention of stopping. 

Sarah gives a sarcastic laugh before growing somber. "Are you nervous about graduation next month?"

"A little," you say honestly, your eyes drifting from her face to the popcorn ceiling above you. "I still haven't told my parents about grad school."

"What?" Sarah drains the last of her coffee before propping herself up on an elbow and looking at you severely. "Why?"

"Dunno." 

That's a lie. You know exactly why. Because you're parents are the least supportive, most caustic people you know. Sarah frowns at you over her drink.

"You're gonna have to tell them eventually."

"Yeah I know."

“Have you seen Conrad lately?”

“Not since the trip,” you answer with a small smirk.

Thankfully you haven’t seen Conrad since that night months ago when he caught you and Joel fucking in your bed. You’ve seen him in passing around campus a few times, but he usually just goes red in the face and strides past you.

"I'm so glad you dumped him," Sarah tells you with a guilty smile. "I was so worried he was gonna propose in Ibiza and be stuck rearing his moron kids. But ever since you got back you've been different."

"Different?"

"Yeah," she nods giving a knowing smile.

She pushes herself off of the bed and goes to the boxes she’d been in the process of packing before classes. She sits herself down on the rug, staring up at you looking into middle distance, still laying on the bed.

You take a moment to covertly look through your photos of Joel. Fuck you miss him. You look at the photo of him at the gallery, of him in glasses, of the two of you in bed, of him carrying your bags to the elevator. You smile.

"Is it the married guy?" 

You don't answer. You don't want to answer. You don't want to know what Sarah thinks about you being with a married man, especially when that man is her father. 

You sit up and join her on the floor, going through the box you yourself were packing before Joel called. It’s your collection of trinkets collected during your time in school. A ticket stub from your first theatre going here, a cut out from the school paper where you’d submitted an article on the anthropology of monogamy, amongst other clutter that makes you smile.

"Well if it is, it seems like he's making you really happy," she offers tentatively. “Honestly in all the time I’ve known you I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy.”

“Well I did get into my Masters program,” you remind her. “And I am graduating with honors.”

“Right,” Sara concedes as the two of you continue packing up your modest dorm room, wrapping her horse figurines in newspaper. She glances over into your box of trinkets and spots the carving Joel made for you. The one that you’ve rubbed down with your thumb over months of keeping it in your pocket.

“You still have that?” Sarah says with a sweet expression on her face. “Isn’t that the one my dad carved for you?”

“Yeah,” you nod, forcing yourself to sound neutral.

“I love that you kept it,” Sarah says with a hand over her heart. “My Dad loves carving these things. I have so many from over the years. Soccer balls, horses, mermaids. Even a dragon from when I was really obsessed with them.”

You love hearing stories about Joel and so you listen intently while trying to appear casual. But every time you get a new piece of information something in you bubbles in delight. The thought of your Joel in the world maybe carving at this very moment.

 Your Joel.

 “Well it was really nice of him,” you say. “More thoughtful than anything my parents ever bought me.”

Your eyes trail to the dress hanging over the door of your closet and you sigh. The latest gift from your parents, a dress for graduation. A virginal white dress with ruffles that doesn’t suit you at all.

“Oh my God do you remember this play?” Sarah asks holding up your torn ticket. “The fucking lighting guy kept missing the cue and the actress was in darkness half the show?”

The two of you collapse into giggles at the memory and you realize with a small devastation that Sarah is the closest thing you've ever had to a best friend. She's supportive and encouraging. She helps you study, she was there for you when you broke up with Conrad, she was the first person you told about grad school because she was the one that insisted you apply. 

“Who cares what your parents think? This is your life!”

There's a very large part of you that hates how you're keeping everything from her even though you know there's no other option. It runs a thread of fear through you that makes you question how you and Joel can continue. 

Would Sarah support it? Or would she be disgusted? You don't really know. You've never been on Sarah's bad side before. When you and Joel have talked about it he's been clear that he wants to be the one to bring it up to Sarah 'if it gets to that point'. But when will you both know you’ve reached that point?

“Tell me more about married guy,” Sarah insists, nudging your knee with her socked foot. “I wanna know everything.”

“He’s…well, he’s great. Handsome and smart and he really listens to me,” you eventually admit with an amused pull of your lips. “He makes me really happy, Sarah. I’ve told him stuff I’ve never told anyone.”

Sarah’s eyes go soft. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Your eyes drop to your hands and you feel tears start at the corners. “I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust him. He makes me feel… Cared for.”

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence as you continue packing up your dorm items. Suddenly Sarah pipes up.

“Is he good in bed?”

You try to swallow the disgusted expression on your face, but she catches it. Her eyes widen with amusement as she tosses a throw pillow at your head. You catch it, trying to will the panic from your expression.

“What?” Sarah gives a small giggle. “You used to tell me everything you and Conrad did, which wasn’t much by the way. But now you’re a vault?”

“It’s uh, just different with him,” you say quickly lowering your eyes to the newspaper you pack your collectibles in. “It feels more… special. I dunno how to describe it. Next question.”

“Are you in love with him?”

You barely pause.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah I am.”

///

Sarah leaves for her evening class later that night and you sit staring at your phone. You want to call Joel and tell him how much you miss him. You want him to speak filth into your ears so you can come. You want to be in his arms with his full mouth on yours. You just want him.

The future is so precarious in many ways. When you’d received your acceptance letter into your Masters program you’d been delighted. When you’d called Joel later that day he’d been so fucking supportive it brought tears to your eyes.

And yet you couldn’t bring yourself to tell your parents. Couldn’t stand the knowledge that a man you’d known for less than six months had known exactly how to support your successes better than your own parents did.

But it’s time now. Graduation is next week and they’ll be coming out to ask your plans. They’ll take you to your fancy dinner and they’ll espouse how a future in Anthropology is a hobby. How you should have gone into Business or something more realistic. And you’ll sit there like you always do with your eyes on your plate willing the evening to be over.

Get it over with.

You punch in your parent’s number and raise your phone to your ear. Your stomach twists when you hear the sound of the phone ringing as you hold your cell to your ear. Despite the fact that you're calling them on any other line, it almost feels like the ring home seems more barren, more echo-ey. 

The phone clicks and you hear your mom bark out your name. You wince. 

"Hey mom."

"Hello. Did you get the dress?”

“Yes Mom,” you say in an obedient tone.

“Well, it’s quite late. Is anything the matter?"

"No," you say feeling your heart in your chest. "I'm calling because I wanted you to-"

"We received the graduation tickets," your mother continues, not even listening to you. "Not even assigned seating. Ridiculous."

There's something about calling home that makes you feel impossibly small and insignificant, but not in a comforting way. More the reminder that you could be squashed under foot at any moment. 

"Yes well that's why I'm calling, sort of-"

"Speak up I can barely hear you."

You sigh deeply, trying to steady your voice. "I wanted to let you and Dad know that I got into that Master's program for the fall." 

There is a loaded silence and then you hear your mother cover the phone and murmur. She’s probably telling your father. Finally her voice comes back over the line, crisp and abraisive.

"I hope you don't expect us to fund that daydream.”

You knew it was coming and yet it doesn't remove the sting entirely.

"Nope. I've got enough scholarships to cover it so far. Just need a part time job for extra expenses. I just wanted to tell...." You trail off.

You hear the sound of your father calling your mother's name in the background. 

"Your father is tired, darling. He has to be awake early and the light from the phone is keeping him up. We'll see you at graduation."

The line goes dead and you throw your cell onto the bed angrily. You can't wait until fucking graduation is over and done with. You can't wait until you're parents are out of your life for another semester.

///

Sarah’s in class. Wanna chat a bit?

[HIM💜] Can’t baby. Tommy fucked up one of the orders and I gotta get it fixed quick.

The tone is sharp and you can hear his irritation flowing through the screen. You go to type out your response when another one of his comes through to the screen.

[HIM💜] I’ll give you a ring later tonight.

It’s final, resolute. He doesn’t have time for you right now and that’s totally fine… Except his words from earlier are echoing around in your brain.  Eager to make up for lost time? Fuck yes you are. You can already feel arousal pooling between your lips.

In the months between spring break and now you’ve done your fair share of phone sex. Joel is remarkably adept at getting you off with only his voice, his words and the distant sound of his belt rasping against his zipper as he strokes himself.

You sent back racy photos every now and again, nothing too obscene for fear that Tess might see. Your face is never included for the same reason.

But right now you’re so fucking horny for him and you need to make him come for you. Probably because you know you shouldn’t bother him. It’s that bratty urge that pops its head out every once and again, urging you to push him, to test him, to make him want you, hard for you even when he shouldn’t.

You look at one of your packed boxes and are suddenly inspired. You pull the tabs open before reaching in and pulling out one of your packed winter items. The snowflake skirt. The skirt that tipped the scales in your relationship. You smile.

You shimmy out of your jeans, shirt and panties before pulling the skirt on and standing in front of the mirror. After a moments deliberation you remove your bra as well, giving yourself a once over and smiling in satisfaction.

You get onto the bed and begin to do a selection of seductive poses, aiming your camera, setting it on a timer and trying your best angles before deciding on a few that turn you on. Your first selection is the snowflake skirt hooked up over the globe of your ass. You’re leaned forward, presenting to the camera. The result is a peek of your glistening folds framed by your skirt on your pale pink sheets. Filthy.

You giggle just at the thought of sending these to Joel while he’s in the middle of work. Your fingers dance over the screen of your phone.

I miss you.

[HIM💜] I told you I was busy, baby.

You feel another bubble of laughter begin as your finger hovers over the selected thumbnail of your naked form. You toss over the idea in your head a moment before pressing send and waiting. His response is almost immediate.

[HIM💜] Are you insane? I’m at work.

I didn’t know you were gonna check your phone!

I was just sending it for later.

[HIM💜] Little liar.

Just missing you. You missing me?

[HIM💜] You know I am. Now stop it.

You can almost hear it in his growled timber. 

You giggle before sorting through your remaining photos. You send him the one of you lying on your back, tits out and pussy wet and spread wantonly with your fingers. Your skirt is bunched up around your waist. Your eyes are half lidded looking up into the camera and you bite your lower lip. It's fucking debauched and you send it with a little thrill in your stomach.

He doesn’t reply right away and a part of you is worried that he’s not checked his phone. You wait a few moments before typing out your message to him, a small smirk on your face.

I'm so wet just Thinking about your cock. How good it felt. Wish you were fucking me right now. 

[HIM💜] Quit it.

You shouldn’t be as turned on as you are, but you can’t help it. Your fingers begin to rub your clit in earnest, knowing that he’s looking at these photos at work. Knowing that he can’t just stroke his cock in his office. With your free hand you type shakily.

Wish I was sucking your cock under your desk, Mister Miller. Want you to fuck my mouth in the middle of work with people around. Wanna make you come down my throat.

[HIM💜] You like acting like a filthy little slut?

There’s the inherent menace of that statement combined with your arousal that sets the next action into motion. You press voice record and place the phone next to your head. Your breathing is heavy and labored. You imagine Joel in bed next to you, the smell of him, the way his beard rasped between your inner thighs. It’s not long before your groaning and coming hard on your fingers, whimpering his name.

With shaky breath you send the voice memo off and slip into a drowsy warmth. His response is delayed a few minutes, likely because he’s listening to it. The thought amuses and thrills you. Finally a beep sounds through.

[HIM💜] Two can play this game, baby. 

///

He doesn’t call you that evening but you’re so busy with studying for finals you don’t really notice. It’s not until your morning lecture the next day that you get a text from him. Distracted you glance at the number and see his name. With a smile you assume it's a cute message and click it, shocked when you see the very obvious erection barely hidden in his boxers. 

Your heart jumps and you glance behind you to ensure that the other classmates in your lecture hall haven’t seen. None of them glance your way; all are focused on the professor talking at the podium about your final exam next week.

WTF JOEL. I’m in class!

[HIM💜] Sorry baby. Just missing you.  

He’s not sorry at all and you both know it.

You go red in the face before dashing out of your class and into the nearest bathroom. It's mercifully empty and you take the nearest stall. You open your messages and feel a giddy thrill go through you when you see he’s sent through a video.

There's a mixture of embarrassment, terror and thrilling excitement that goes through you at the sight. Joel sent you a dirty video. He's never done that. You can only assume it's payback from your texts yesterday and you couldn't be more delighted.

You lean back against the stall, not even feeling the cool metal because you’re so focused on your cell phone. With trembling fingers you pop your ear buds in and press play. Joel's husky baritone immediately floods your ears and you close your eyes. 

"Those were some filthy fucking photos you sent me yesterday," his voice murmurs off screen, sleepy and rumbled. "And sending ‘em to me at work. Naughty girl. I was hard all fuckin’ day."

You smile gently to yourself at the thought of it. Joel stuck behind his desk, jeans tight as his erection pulses desperately. Your eyes open now and you see that he’s lifted his phone to point at his waist. He’s lying in bed, you recognize the sheets. He’s naked now, but he’s not pointing it at his cock yet.   

"Don't know that you deserve this video at all," Joel teases and you watch his lower belly twitch. "You're lucky I like you so much."

That little comment thrills you.  The camera points down, showing you the glistening head of his cock. Beads of pre-cum already dot it.

"Betcha wish you were licking this thick cock right now, aren't you my sweet little slut?"

His wide hand lazily strokes, making you whimper to yourself in the empty stall. 

"This is your come baby," Joel mutters behind the camera. "Been saving it up all day. Thinking about you and t-that... Video we made. Watched it this mornin'."

He breaks off and you watch his wide hand start to jerk his cock more hurriedly, moving more towards the head you desperately wish you were licking. 

"You looked so fucking good. T-that innocent way you looked up at me with my cock stuffed in your pretty mouth."

Your pussy is throbbing at this point, watching your sexy boyfriend jerk off for you while he babbles filth in that sexy twang of his. 

"You like being my little slut, baby?" Joel croons. "Like knowing I'm carrying around that video? Watching you suck my cock anytime I want?" 

Fuck yes you do. 

"And you look so fucking eager for it," Joel breathes and you hear that familiar urgency in his voice as he nears his climax. "So desperate to swallow my cock... Tits painted.... Painted with my come."

You’re absolutely soaked, your nipples stiff peaks under your t-shirt. You want nothing more than to be on your knees in front of him, his cock in your mouth. This is pure torture.

“And then those f-fuckin’ photos,” Joel groans and it’s a debauched sound that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “That perfect fuckin’ pussy so wet for me. The way you’re.. touchin-“

Whatever he was about to say is lost in the garbled grunt of his orgasm. His hands stutter and then he comes in thick ropes spurting from between his knuckles, his moans ragged and broken from behind the screen

"All for you, baby, this come is all for you," he's rambling as he erupts. "All yours my good, good little slut."

And then the video ends. Another message has come through.

[HIM💜] Just a preview for next week. Have a great class, baby.

You stand in the stall panting and wet. You're so turned on its insane. 

How the fuck are you supposed to last until graduation?

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #dad joel miller #smut #pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #bfdjoelmiller #bfd #joel x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel tlou #joel fanfic #joel the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #dad!joel miller #daddy k!nk

[cwritesforfun]

The Bear: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x Fem!Reader: Crush

You work at the Bear as the hostess when Sugar needs help and you're close with Carmy, Sydney, and Marcus. You like everyone else, but you're just closest with those three. Richard keeps trying to force you and Carmy to be alone together, so he annoys you right now. (YES, the plot has changed.)

Y/N = Your Name

Your POV

You open your phone bright and early to see a text from Carmy: Call me if you get this before 5:30 or before you leave. You click the call button next to his number and wait for him to answer.

****Start of conversation Y/N - Hey Chef... what's up? Carmy - Richard said you live near me. Could you drive me to work? Y/N - Yeah, uh can you send me your address? I just finished breakfast and I just need to get my shoes on. Carmy - Yeah, okay I sent it. Y/N - You're only a 5 minute drive from me. I'll be there soon. I'll text you when I leave. Carmy - Thanks Y/N... Thanks, Chef. End of conversation****

You wait in your car for Carmy and see him exit his building. He climbs into your car and you let him buckle his seatbelt before driving off.

As you drive, Carmy says, "So... uh my car... it uh broke down yesterday. Richard doesn't have his license and he didn't want to risk driving me to work. I think he just didn't want to drive me because he drives me around all the time. He told me you lived closer to me than he did. So I called you. Thanks for ... thanks for driving me." You exclaim, "It's totally okay. I don't mind. I like getting to work early and you live very close, so this works out for us both. Do you need a ride back to your place after work too?" He answers, "Yeah if you don't mind." You reply, "No, I don't. I can drive you until you get your car fixed. It's cool. Do you want a homemade protein bar?" He answers, "Sure... I guess." You reply, "You can say no, I don't care. It's the only way I can survive working these shifts. It has peanut butter, maple syrup, protein powder, oats, and that's it. They're delicious and they fuel you until the next meal." He replies, "I'll try one, then. If you care about it this much and you made them, they have to be good." You keep driving and you hear Carmy say, "Fuck, these are good. I could eat a whole tray." You reply, "Thanks."

We park, you hand out the rest of the protein bars to the rest of the staff, and you help set up and clean the dining area once more. You then help Marcus with desserts. You used to always say that dessert was your favorite meal, but now it's tied with dinner. Pasta and garlic bread together could kill you, but you'd be okay with it because you'd die happy. Making desserts brings you so much joy because there's something so amazing about the process of picking the right amount of ingredients to decorating them before customers eat them.

Your shift starts and it's packed. It's Saturday and there are tons of people hustling in. You even fill the bar with walk-ins. Richard runs the dining room with ease and you can tell he's at home here. At a quiet moment, he slides behind the hostess stand next to you and asks, "So, how was the ride this morning?" You answer, "Carmy and I talked. He liked the protein bars I made. It was good. He thinks you had an ulterior motive for not driving him." He smirks and replies, "I did. I want one of you to cut that sexual tension and confess your feelings." You laugh and say, "He's my boss and I like this job." He replies, "We both know you're just passing time here because you love the people. You make way more at your weekday job. You could easily quit working here and date him." You reply, "I could. I don't know. I am not quitting." You hear, "What's this about quitting?" You see Carmy standing there looking between the both of you. Richard says, "I was just telling dear sweet Y/N that she could quit working here. She makes more during the week. She doesn't need to overwork herself." Carmy turns to you and asks, "Are you overworking yourself?" You answer, "No I'm not. Thanks for your concern." Carmy says, "Yeah no problem. It's time for your 15-minute break and I was wondering if you wanted to take it with me. Richard can handle it out here." You answer, "Sure, yeah. Richard can handle it." Richard says, "I hate you when you two gang up on me. Just date already and make me happy." Carmy and I both shove Richard who says, "That was scarily in sync."

Outside, you eat a donut that was messed up by Marcus and Carmy smokes by your side. Carmy exclaims, "I know you don't have to come in on weekends and you shouldn't feel obligated because Sugar asked you to. I don't want you to overwork yourself and not have time for yourself because it's important to care for yourself. I don't want you to not be okay. I just... I care about you." You reply, "I care about you too and don't want you to overwork yourself either. You work as much as me, Carmy. I don't feel obligated to work because of Sugar or anyone else. I like working at the Bear because I love the people here. I have Sunday off every week and usually I get to work from home at least 2 days a week, so the work week feels less stressful. I will let you know if I ever need a break." He nods and says, "Good good. I want you to be able to come to me if you ever need anything." You reply, "Same to you. I'm here if you ever need anything too. Speaking of, I'm making dinner for Marcus, Sydney, and I tonight after work? Do you want to come over too?" He asks, "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to mess up your plans together." You answer, "It's all good. We just eat, drink, and either play games or watch tv. It's really chill and nice." He replies, "Ok, as long as you let me help cook." I reply, "Sounds good. I could always use the help."

When you told Sydney and Marcus that Carmy was joining for dinner, they were so happy. They also want you to tell Carmy that you like him. Why does everyone want you to? chill...

Carmy gets in your car after work and says, "Sorry that you had to wait. I had to make sure things were all set for tomorrow morning." You reply, "It's okay. Do you need anything from your apartment before we go to my place? I can stop." He answers, "Yeah I do, thank you."

You drive to his apartment and wait for him in the car. He tells you that he is going to take a 5-minute shower and then he'll be down.

You drive to your apartment when Carmy gets back and park in your spot in the garage. Carmy asks, "Do you have to walk in this garage every night?" You answer, "Yeah, why?" He answers, "I just want you to be careful." You reply, "Awww you're very caring today. It's sweet." He replies, "I don't think anyone's ever said I was sweet unless it was as a joke." You reply, "Carmen Berzatto, you're genuinely one of the kindest people I know. You go out of your way and show people you care about them despite all you've been through. You always make me feel cared for and understood. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." He replies, "Thank you." You reach over, squeeze his hand, and say, "I meant every word." He squeezes your hand back and smiles.

After getting to your apartment, you give Carmy a quick tour of the place. You have a 2-bedroom apartment with your best friend from college who is visiting her boyfriend out of town for the week. It's small, but it's yours and it's great.

You put music on your speaker then head to the kitchen. Carmy asks, "What can I do to help?" You answer, "I'm making chicken, fried rice, and stir-fry vegetables. It's essentially just chicken fried rice. I made dessert last night too that I can break out later. Do you want to help chop vegetables?" Carmy answers, "Yes Chef. It sounds like it will be a good meal, have you made it before?" You hand him vegetables and say, "Yeah it's one of my favorite things to make for people. Marcus requests it at least once a month and Sydney requested the dessert." He takes the vegetables as you set out knives on a chopping board for him to start cutting stuff. You have just enough time to start the rice when you hear the doorbell ring.

Sydney and Marcus walk in. Sydney says, "I present you with tonight's wine and beer of choice. We got dry Riseling wine and Pilsner beer to pair with our dinner. Then, we brought vodka for the dessert cocktail." You cheer and say, "I'm so excited. This'll be great." You go back to prepping the meal to see that Carmy is working fast. You should've known he'd be quick. He's a chef for a living. Sydney asks, "Y/N, do you want a glass of wine or a beer as you cook?" You answer, "Beer please." Sydney asks, "What about you, Carmy?" Carmy answers, "Yeah, I'll take a beer, sure."

Sydney and Marcus stand by talking to you and Carmy as you cook. The cooking time flies by and it's time to eat. You put the dessert in the center of the table for after dinner. You made red velvet brownies.

At the dinner table after everyone is served, Marcus exclaims, "And today, we thank the world for bringing Y/N to the Bear. Without her, I wouldn't have a dessert buddy or this chicken fried rice." You laugh and Sydney says, "I can't wait for dessert. I'm gonna need the rest to-go. Don't eat too much boys." Carmy asks, "Why aren't you a chef? This is fucking delicious." Sydney says, "Woah there Carmy. Save some compliments for the rest of us, buddy." You laugh and say, "Thank you all for the kind words. I have some already packed to-go for you, Sydney." Sydney replies, "And this is why I love you!"

Soon enough, the beer and wine are finished. And the cocktails begin... they work tomorrow, which is wild how much they're consuming. We're sitting on the couch now. Carmy is next to you and his arm has been wrapped around your shoulder for most of the night. You don't mind at all, but will he regret it? I guess it's not a kiss.

After you all watch a movie, Marcus announces to everyone he needs sleep. Carmy seems confused when Marcus pulls out a blow-up mattress and starts to inflate it. Oh, guess you forgot to tell him that they usually spend the night. You should never drink and drive, so Marcus brings an air mattress. Sydney sleeps on the couch. You make breakfast for them or have something prepped to take on-the-go for them in the morning depending on how much you drink.

You exclaim, "Carmy, uh... could you help me carry the stuff on the table into the kitchen?" Carmy nods and he helps you bring stuff to the kitchen before he asks, "Why are Marcus and Sydney getting ready for bed here?" You answer, "Right, yeah I forgot to tell you that. They spend the night if they drink a lot or if one of them isn't the designated driver. I even make them breakfast in the mornings too. I just want them to be taken care of and safe. You're welcome to stay the night too...or I can call you a cab. The only place is in my bed if you're okay sharing." He asks, "Only if it's okay with you? I don't think I would make it back to my place honestly." You answer, "It's all good. There are extra toothbrushes and stuff in the bathroom closet that you can use." He replies, "Yeah I'll go get ready for bed then. Will you be coming to bed soon?" You reply, "Yes, I just want to make sure both of them are all good before I go to sleep." He nods and walks off.

You go to make sure that Marcus and Sydney are taken care of. Sydney pulls you to her and says, "OMG! So are you and Carmy like dating or something?" You ask, "Why would you think that?" She answers, "Dude, he had his arm around you, he was positive, and he complimented you. If you're not having sex to make him happy, I'm seriously questioning his mental state." You reply, "I feel like that's rude to say. He is allowed to be happy." Marcus replies, "And you are too, you know? With or without him, we support you." You reply, "That's so sweet, Marcus. Thank you both. Now, what do you guys want for breakfast? I have stuff for burritos, pancakes, or overnight oatmeal." Sydney says, "We want burritos. I can guarantee you that is what Marcus wants." Marcus laughs and nods. You talk with them a bit more before you lay out some stuff for breakfast then head to your room. You need to shower so badly...you stink so much from work.

Carmy is staring at your bed when you walk in. You laugh and say, "The bed won't bite, Carmy. You can take either side. I sleep on the side where that book is if you don't want to take my side. I'm going to shower, but I'll be back soon. Feel free to read any of the books or look at anything. I trust you and I don't care." He nods and you go to the bathroom. You then throw on your matching set of pajamas. You leave the bathroom to see Carmy looking at your book and photo collection. You ask, "See anything you like?" Carmy answers, "Yeah actually I'm really impressed with your photos. Did you take all of them? And have you read all of these books?" You laugh, stand next to him, and answer, "I have read the top two shelves. That cart is books I need to read still. The photos are all mine, except the ones I'm in. Those were mostly taken by family members. I can always take more of the Bear if you guys ever need any promotional content." He replies, "Thanks, I might just take you up on it. Your bed is comfy by the way. I uh... I didn't know how comfortable you were with me sleeping there so I waited for you." You sit on your bed and pat the space next to you. He walks over and gently sits next to you. You say, "See, that's not so bad. And, I don't care that we're going to share this bed. I feel safe around you and I trust you. It's all good." He asks, "Why do you always compliment me? I mean, everyone at work hates me during work hours because of how much I scream and the standards I hold people to. But you... you just see the light in me." He looks so broken. It's truly sad he doesn't see what you see. You put your hand on his shoulder gently and say, "Because of what I see in you, Carmy. I see someone so kind and safe and trusting and hard-working. Yes you can scream, but we all can and that's the way of the kitchen. You do apologize when you're in the wrong and that's what counts. The standards you set are the reason that the Bear has such delicious food and has a steady influx of customers. You wanted this place to be successful and you had a dream. People just need to see what you see and once they know the standard, it's golden. So yes, I will compliment you when I want to." He puts his hand on the one on his shoulder and says, "You're so perfect... listen, I heard you all talking in the living room. If everyone thinks we're already dating, why don't we give it a try?" You answer, "Sure, when we're both free next, we can go on a date." He asks, "What would you say if I took off tomorrow and we just spent it together?" You ask, "You are going to take off tomorrow. I don't believe that for one second." He smirks and replies, "Richard and Sydney can handle it. I have a date I need to go on." You smile and say, “If you take off, I will gladly go on a date with you tomorrow. And if you don’t take off work tomorrow, I’m free after 5 every night this week and I’m off on Sundays every week.” He replies, “I’ll call Richard right now. Here we go. I’ll even put him on speaker phone so he behaves.”

You laugh.

**** Start of conversation Richard - Is something wrong, Carmy? You never call me this late. Carmy - Everything is fine. Look, I’m with Y/N right now. Richard - Define with. Are you dating her now? Why are you at her house late? Did you get laid? Give me more. Y/N - Chill, Richard. Richard - Oh hi … wow Carmy wasn’t lying that you were there. Carmy - I’m at her place, moron. Now listen, I’m taking off work tomorrow all day so I can go on a date with Y/N and spend the day with her. Richard - Holy shit you’re not coming to work! Y/N really has changed you. This is blowing my mind right now. I should’ve bought a lotto ticket tonight. Damn it. Carmy - Cousin, shut up. Tell me, can you handle tomorrow? Richard - Yes I can. The staff and I can. I know how everything runs and I will call you after closing to tell you how it goes to make you happy. Although you will probably be getting laid, so you’ll already be happy. Y/N - Please shut up. Carmy - Yeah Cousin, there is a lady present. Bye and thank you. Richard - Use protection kids. End of conversation ****

After hanging up the phone, you ask, “How does it feel? You’re going to get to sleep in and you’re going on a date tomorrow.” Carmy answers, “Honestly, I’m excited. This might be the best day of this year for me.” You laugh and lean your head on his shoulder. He cuddles close to you and says, “I wasn’t really nervous about sharing a bed with you … I was nervous about telling you my feelings and then you rejecting me or just wanting to be friends. I've been overthinking how I should tell you my feelings and when. Richard has also been pushing me about it and I knew deep down that he was right.” I laugh and say, "Don't let him hear you say that. I do have to get up to make breakfast for Sydney and Marcus in the morning, but I will go back to bed after." He says, "Wait one second, I'll be right back." He slides out from under me and walks out my room. OK?? What??

Carmy returns looking confused and weirded out. I ask, "Where did you go? You have a weird face right now." He gets in bed, opens his arms for me, and says, "They were just drunk and were happy that I asked you out. I forget how honest people are when they are drunk. It was weird. I just went to ask them if it was okay that you didn't make them breakfast because I wanted you to have sleep and to sleep in with me. I hope that's okay. I just heard you talk with Richard about how you don't want to overwork yourself and I want you to have rest for the week." I kiss him on the cheek and say, "You're so sweet. I'm not mad. I'm very glad you were looking out for me."

PART TWO

#carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear imagine

[hopelesslyromanticgay]

An Americano, Please? Part 2

Word Count: 757 A/N: italicized text within quotation marks means that the person speaking is using Romanian instead of English

Y/N's POV:

I haven't seen Jenna for five days, so she was probably just a tourist. It's not uncommon for a tourist to pop by the shop asking for a coffee but not being able to speak Romanian, so I have no idea why I'm so sad that she's not coming back. 

I thought the idea of a "hallway crush," (someone you've interacted with once or twice for a short or professional amount of time, but are attracted to nonetheless), only lasted through high school. I guess I was wrong.

Friday morning, the shop is quiet because of how early it is. I shovel some coffee beans into the grinder. Despite the annoyingly loud noise it makes, I find it an oddly satisfying process.

I yawn, getting out of bed at four thirty for a five AM shift is nobody's idea of a good start to a day.

Once the coffee's all ground up, I put some in the drip coffee brewer and the rest next to the espresso machine.

In the back, I can smell my coworkers taking today's baked goods out of the oven.

"Hey, L/N, want a cinnamon bun? It's a little 'burnt', so we can't sell it," my coworker and friend Nessa asks. Every Friday is the same, Nessa and I are two of the only people around the shop this early, so we'll sneak a pastry and say it was burnt if anyone asks.

"Sure, Thanks!" I reply, taking the warm pastry from her. Taking a bite, a smile creeps across my face, "did you guys change the recipe? This is even better than last week's!"

"Yeah, boss asked if we could add a few more spices to the dough," she explains, "I'm a pretty big fan of the new recipe if I do say so myself."

It's not long before the cafe starts to smell like cinnamon and coffee, a perfectly inviting scent in the gloomy fall weather.

Five twenty and it's time to open up the shop. Of course, no one actually arrives until six, usually. Nevertheless the owner says being open early is best for business.

As I wait for the first customers to arrive, I zone out. There's not much to do except for sitting alone with my thoughts.

I'm so lost in thought that I'm thoroughly shocked when I hear the bell on the door ring, indicating that someone has entered the shop. I look up to see who it is. Then it dawns on me. She's a little paler than last time, but it's still her.

"Jenna?" I ask incredulously, I thought for sure she was gone.

"You remember me?" she raises an eyebrow.

"I remember most people who can't speak Romanian," I lie.

"Sure," she giggles.

"What can I get for ya today?" I ask.

"You know, I think I'll take your joke from the other day seriously," she replies with a faint smirk, "I'll have an Americano with oat milk please."

"Alright, an Americano for the American," I laugh, mixing the drink, "so, what brings you to Romania?"

"Could you please repeat that?" she asks, "sorry, I've been having trouble focusing lately."

"Well, you're clearly not a tourist, because most tourists don't stick around for more than three days. So I'm just wondering, what brings you to Romania?" I repeat.

"Oh, uh, I'm filming a TV show," she explains.

"You act?" I ask. I don't know why I'm surprised. She certainly has the looks and charisma for Hollywood.

"Yeah," she smiles, "this is definitely one of the bigger things I've done though."

"Congrats on that! What are you filming? Are you allowed to tell people?"

"It's a show about the Addams family," she tells me.

"Oh I love that franchise!" I exclaim, "Are you playing one of the family members?"

"Yeah, I'm Wednesday, which is both exciting and nerve wracking." 

Okay, so I'm literally talking to a celebrity. 

"Woah... That- that sounds like an awesome job," I smile, "good for you. So you'll be in the area for a while?"

"What's it to you?" she smirks flirtatiously, "you wanna take me out on a date or something?" I feel a blush start to creep it's way to my cheeks.

"That depends, you gonna be in town for a while?"

"At least six more months."

"In that case, how about I show you around town sometime?"

"I'd like that," she smiles. As much as I would love to keep up this banter, there's too many people in the store now.

I hand her the receipt, my number neatly scribbled down on the blank side, "reach out when you're available," I wink.

She heads out and I watch as she leaves.

On with the day. Only four hours left of this shift.

#vada cavell #wednesday addams #tara carpenter #cute #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #i love jenna ortega #reader insert #jenna ortega x you #lesbian #pride #gay #coffee shop romance #jenna ortega x y/n #cute fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert fanfiction #jenna ortega reader insert #an americano please

[bullet-prooflove]

Coy: Dean Archer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @helsinkibaby @hufflepuffgirl @mimi-8793

Releasing early as a birthday gift to my babe @mandy426

Dean found out his wife was cheating on him when he discovered he had syphilis during a routine medical check. He tells you that after you've been trapped in an elevator together for over three hours. He’d exhausted all of the small talk options after the first two so now the you’re digging into the real stuff, the stuff you don’t even tell your best friend because you’re terrified they’ll murder someone on your behalf.

You’d already disclosed how you found your husband fucking another woman on a sheepskin rug in the cabin you owned together. So it was his turn and well that’s apparently that’s the secret he chose to disclose.

“It’s gone now though right?” You say gesturing towards the lower half of his scrubs and he gives you an offended look. “You’re not just walking around sowing your wild oats…”

“One, that would be horribly irresponsible if I didn’t get treated and secondly I do not ‘sow my wild oats’.” He says making bunny ears with his fingers.

“I just assumed, an intelligent, attractive man like yourself would have a busy social calendar.” You say, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind your ear.

“Yea, Netflix and medical journals.” He responds before backtracking. “Wait you think I’m attractive?”

“Dean, don’t be coy.” You say, kicking him lightly in the knee with your shoe.

“I’m not.” He tells you, his cheeks colouring as he tilts his head back towards the ceiling and closes his eyes. “I can’t remember the last time someone told me they found me attractive. It’s usually grumpy, egotistical…”

He laughs before he tips his head towards you, his eyes meeting yours.

“I’m not selling myself am I?”

“Do you feel like you need to?” You ask him and he frowns before he shakes his head.

“No I…” He trails off before he looks at you a little differently. “I’ve never felt like that with you, it doesn’t feel like trying. Hell I’ve just told you I’ve had syphilis so I think we can discern I feel pretty damn comfortable around you.”

“Yea.” You say with a sigh, tucking your hands into your pockets. “Comfortable.”

“I’ve said something wrong.” He says quietly. “I didn’t mean…”

“No.” You say softly, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s just, I’m not the girl that gets the guy. I’m the weird one that cuts up bodies in the morgue.”

“You do a valuable job, we learn things from that, people get closure.” You give him a look and he realises he’s doing it again, saying the wrong thing. “I’m not explaining myself well.”

“No you are.” You say with a smile that doesn’t meet your eyes. “I understand perfectly.”

Silence falls between the two of you and now it’s his turn to sigh because he’s never been good at communicating, not when it comes to the important stuff. Up until three hours ago you were just a colleague, the woman he had a thing for. And now…

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful.” He tells you because you took a risk and now it’s his turn. “And it has been intimidating actually, because you’re also smart and funny. The perfect package.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

He can tell you don’t believe him, why would you? You’re ex-husband spent years lying to about his affairs. He knows how that feels, how it erodes at your self-worth. He also knows that sometimes actions speak louder than words.  

“I mean it.” He tells you, his fingertips tilting up your chin so that he can look into your eyes. “I never thought I had a shot with you.”

“We’re idiots aren’t we?” You say softly as his thumb traces over the apple of your cheek.

“We are trapped in an elevator.” He agrees, his nose trailing along the length of yours. “And I’m terrified what other secrets I may end up spilling if we stay in here any longer.”

“You wanna do something other than talk?” You ask him and he smiles against the corner of your mouth.

“Yea.” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours. “I think I would.”

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#dean archer #dean archer x reader #steven weber #one chicago #chicago med

[kai-anderson-whore]

Hi love, can I have a really fluffy Evan imagine? I am 22 years old and a first year teacher who teaches first grade. Could it start out where she trashed college. It then transition to him helping her set up her classroom, and then once the years starts where she is overwhelmed being a first year teacher so he does all this sweet stuff and comforts her? Thanks!!

Yes of course hope you enjoy ☺️

Teaching the first grade (evan peters x teacher reader)

Summary: evan helps you set up your classroom for your first day of being a first grad teacher

Warnings: none really

Word count:1,9k

A/n: it’s officially spooky season feel free to sent some requests. I have somethings in the works for Halloween ☺️

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

For as long as you could remember you wanted to be a teacher helping children be educated and progress in their lives. Help them be something spark their curiosity about what they wanted to be. So when you made it to college you knew that you wanted to study education mostly for younger children such as first graders.

But college life outside of classes got the best of you struggling to keep up with classes sure you managed to pass most of your classes. But being late to most of them and finding things hard. You made loads of friends even met people who didn't go to college such as Evan peters who then progressed to become your boyfriend later on.

Even though you failed some classes you were determined to full-fill your dreams in becoming a teacher. Asking to take extra time in your work to get the grades you needed to seek further in your education. In which all paid off well.

...

After a few years of studying you finally made it in your dreams. Getting a job as a first grade teacher you were nervous about how it would play out but Evan stood by your side throughout the process. Helping you set up your classroom. "Where do you want this?" He asked holding a box filled with things to decorate your classroom. "On one of the desks at the back please" you answered stapling some things on the wall to give the glum looking room some character for the children.

You and Evan spent the day moving desks so the tables would be in groups of four. You had a whole idea set up, a vision of how to make the class fun for the children yet still educational. "I'm so nervous for Monday" you said finishing the last piece of wall decoration. "You'll do amazingly, I mean when I was in first grade I didn't have superheroes and barbie dolls in my classroom, you'll be the best teacher ever" Evan reassures you his hands on your shoulders placing a chaste kiss on your cheeks.

You felt anxious and overwhelmed by the whole situation, sure this is what you wanted but now that it's officially happening the reality was setting in. It wasn't going to be easy by any means being responsible for a class of 20-25 children. "I hope you" you sighed finishing off the last pieces of your classroom.

...

Monday soon rolled around fast, the first school year. You woken up early barely able to even sleep due to your nerves. Picking out some dress pants and a white shirt you quickly got changed and applied some light makeup straightening your hair. Evan was still asleep light snores echoed through the room.

You went into the kitchen to make some coffee and eat your overnight oats for breakfast. You were to busy looking Through emails before you had to leave you didn't see Evan sluggishly walking into the kitchen. "Morning babe" he yawned running his tired eyes.

"Good morning" anxiety seeped through your tone Evan took notice wrapping his arms around your waist. "You'll do amazingly those kids are going to have the best teacher ever" he praised placing a kiss on your cheek. "You really think so?" You asked your hands on top of his on your waist. "I know so you'll take to it like a fish in water".

You were in your classroom getting everything prepared for your class coming in. You felt more nervous than before, hands trembling wiping over each desk. The clock showed 7:49am, ten minutes before your class officially starts you prepared all the last minute details such as pencils and paper for drawings.

8:00am rolled around you stood outside your classroom waiting on the children to arrive. Seeing all the children lined up outside the classroom smiles on their faces guided by the older grade as their buddy for a few weeks while they all settle into the school.

"Hello everyone I'm ms y/l/n come on in and I'll sort you all in your seating plan" you said in a comforting manner. All the children followed you in the room, you had instructed them to line up at the back of the class room and you will call out their names.

"Tommy merland?" You called a little boy with dirty blonde hair stepped forward shyly. "You come sit over here" you smiled. You called out each of the children's names one by one. The seating plan went as two boy and two girls on each table. All the children chatted amongst themselves getting to know everyone.

You nerves calmed down a little. Clearing your throat "okay class I want you all, in your groups come up with a name for your group and that will be the name of the group for awards and games- now this can be a character from your favourite show, game or favourite singer" you instructed "yes miss" the children called all chatting amongst themselves coming up with a group name.

After about five minutes you gained the children's attention. "Okay so Corey's table what name have you chosen?" You asked all the children seemed excited to share their names. "Spongebob" the little boy called out. "Amazing group one SpongeBob group" you said writing it down so you could put a picture on their pots in the middle of the table.

"Millie's group what did you pick?".

"Tom and Jerry". The brunette girl called. "Hey we wanted Tom and Jerry" a boy called out in a huff. Before you knew it a argument broke out between the two children. "Okay children is there another name you would like?" You asked hoping they may have picked a backup. "No we wanted Tom and Jerry".

You tried to resolve the small issue with brainstorming ideas but they weren't having it, still bickering over the topic. "Everyone hands on your heads" the children followed your attention exercise. "Hands on nose, on lips". All the children fell silent waiting on your next words.

You felt stressed out but an idea came to your head. "How about one group will be Tom and the other one be Jerry?" The children considered your suggestion one group picked Tom the other Jerry.

Later on in the classroom you were teaching the children their handwriting skills before lunch. All the children were doing great. You went round each group to see if they needed some help. "Great job everyone, now please put your pencils away and get ready for lunch" you called the class put all their things away getting ready for that lunch time bell to ring.

During lunch out let out a sigh finally being alone to think and take a breather. You heard your cellphone ringing in your bag fishing out for it. Evan's screen name shone on the device a smile on your lips answering the phone.

"Hey babe how is it so far?" He asked, you could practically hear the smile through the phone.

"I'm overwhelmed by it all, don't get me wrong I love it but it's so stressful I had to settle an argument on what group can be Tom and Jerry" you giggled.

"Tom and Jerry?" Evan asked. "Yeah in the group the kids would pick what their group would be called there's SpongeBob, queen elsa, and of course Tom and Jerry" you explained. Wiping over the whiteboard to start the next lesson.

"Well hopefully you don't have to settle more arguments on Tom and Jerry" he chuckles you giggled back. You and Evan bet your goodbyes hanging up the phone just in time for the children to come back.

Hours had past you felt exhausted, the drive home was quiet. You couldn't wait to get home and relax with Evan for a while. Pulling up along your driveway, eyes barely open your feet ached from standing most of the day. Exiting the car you locked it behind you making your way to your home.

Pushing the door open you were greeted by the comforting aroma of cooking. You closed the door leaving your shoes by the door entering the kitchen. You saw Evan plating up some food. A warm smile invaded your lips placing your handbag on the counter. "How was work?" He asked. "Stressful but good" you sighed wrapping your arms around his waist  nuzzling your head on his back.

"Dinner smells good" you hummed taking in his scent- woody cologne mixed with a faint cigarette. "I hope it tastes as good as it smells" Evan chuckles handing you your plate. You ate a forkful a delightful moan left your lips "this is really good babe" you said nodding.

"So how was your day?" You asked taking about bite of your food.

"It was alright just ran some errands and got some things for you" he shrugged.

"For me?" You asked with a furrow brow, "yeah I thought maybe we could have a pamper night together since you wanted to do so for a while and I bought some snacks and stuff" your heart melted hearing him say that. "Aww Evan thank you" you beamed finishing the last of your dinner.

Later on you and Evan sat on your shared bed with a bunch of snacks and skin care products. "What do I do with this?" He asked holding a bottle of cleanser. "It's a cleaner you use a cotton pad and it takes all the dirt off your face" you explained handing him a cotton pad.

Evan poured some on gesturing you to come closer. You shimmied yourself closer feeling the cold pad wipe gently over your face. "Your turn" you said repeating the process on Evan's face.

You took two sheet face masks out handing Evan one, opening it up placing it over your faces. "It's cold" Evan cringed but placed it on his face anyway. "It was in the fridge Evan" you giggled. "Why was it in the fridge?" He asked confused. "Because it will depuff your face, now this has to be on for ten minutes" you answered laying back on the bed.

During those ten minutes your and Evan munched on the snacks he purchased earlier today talking about random things. You felt so much better than earlier taking off your face masks after ten minutes, moving on to the next step. "This is retinol it stops aging" you informed using the dropper from the glass bottle to drop some of the product on your hand.

You applied it on Evan's face a satisfied hum leaving his lips “that feels nice”. You smiled massaging the serum into his skin.

You and Evan took turns applying the rest of the products on each other. Placing everything back we’re they belong. You rushed right back to bed, under the covers snuggling up with your boyfriend with heavy eyes. A random rom-com playing quietly in the background.

“Thank you for this Evan i really needed this today was overwhelming” you sighed happily your chin rested on his chest looking up at him through your eyelashes. “I’m glad to help, hopefully tomorrow isn’t too bad first days are stressful but you did amazing” he smiled stroking your hair comforting you.

You averted your attention back to the tv in your bedroom, evan still stroking your hair. You felt your eyes shutting trying to hold them open but it was no use, slumber took over you. Evan smiled hearing your soft snores gently moving you aside so he could turn the tv off. Crawling back into bed tucking his arm back under your head drifting off to sleep.

#evan peters #american horror story #james patrick march #tate langdon #kai anderson #kit walker #ahs asylum #evan peters x reader #jimmy darling #kyle spencer #austin sommers #evan peters imagine #evan peters requests #evan peters fanfic #evan peters x y/n #evan peters x you #evan peters fluff #evan peters smut #evan peters icons #evan peters fanfiction #evanpeters #ahs coven #ahs hotel #ahs smut #ahs fic #ahs fandom #ahs: cult #ahs murder house #ahs fanfic #ahs cult

[horsewiferikai]

How… do you feel about rikai?

On the earlier days of September I will have been hit by a horse transportation truck, sending me into a depressive spiral. In recompense sends me to their countryside stable filled with failed racing horses. Accepting this meager attempt of compensation due to the deterioration of my state of being in the busy and impersonal nature of the city life, I quickly leave on an extended leave.

Most days I fail to leave my room instead choosing to stare out the window as time passes. Until one day I notice the pained whinny of an anguished horse. Not wanting to be responsible of the death of a likely high-bred horse, I leave quietly after making sure no one would see me. What awaits me is a skittish horse who has gotten his head stuck in a fence that had broken slightly in an attempt to graze outside the boundaries.

Looking feeble and a bit emancipated I quickly run to the shack nearby where they keep extra supplies and grab a handful of oats. Running back I offer it slowly to the no longer fighting horse and he eats it gently from my hands with no energy to fight back. After eating his fill from my hands I help him remove his head from the fence and watch him neigh noisily at me before retreating back to my room.

From then on Rikai would neigh at precisely 6 am in the morning to wake me up and insist on eating breakfast forcing me into an early morning routine where I leave my room. After a while I start to get determined to get out of my funk and start to go on walks with Rikai, learning that he was not qualified to be a show-horse due to his skittish nature and his hard headedness. However because it was my last chance to earn money to chase my own passions, I start working with Rikai to enter a novice’ show horse competition with rudementary knowledge. (Also to keep Rikai at the shelter because he’s an older horse who couldn’t be used for much and probably a plotline about the rescue running low on funds)

As if sensing how it was what was getting me out of bed Rikai starts trying to learn to be a proper show-horse despite his many incompatibilities and despite not winning attention comes to the rescue and the countryside stable is saved. I leave feeling determined to face the city life again and Rikai is a horse. We have the normal love a horse girl movie protag and her horse typically has. Which is to see is wildly romantic.

Which you would understand if you saw my presentation “THE HORSE IS THE TRUE MALE LEAD” where I defend my thesis statement that a lot of horsegirl movies are not romances because the horse fulfills the male lead’s role

#none of my oomfs has posted so i hope theyre dead

[seenoversundown]

Sparrow Of the Dawn : Chapter 4

Sam Kiszka x Willa (Female OC) Warnings: Teasing (in the making fun of each other way), dark humor, subtle pining, cursing, mentions of drinking/alcohol, and a lot of clumsy girl behavior.

Word Count: 7.6k

Summary : Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

Author's Note: Just wanted to take a second to leave some resources in regards to learning about and assisting those affected by the genocide in Palestine. There aren’t words strong enough to convey how devastating the loss is. I will leave a few resources I have found linked and always remember that we’re not free until Palestine is free. #Ceasefire #FreePalestine 🇵🇸

• Six Ways To Help

• Carrd Full of helpful Links and Resources

• Daily Click!

Gives You Hell - All American Rejects “When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, gives you hell.”

I feel like I could fight God when my alarm clock goes off in the morning and my first thought is that I'll have to see Sam all day. Oh, great ruler of the Cosmos, please grant me the strength to get through this day. So mote it be. 

 I slither out of bed like the morning gremlin I am, pull on my robe, and head out to the kitchen, where I know Quinn is already waiting. 

Quinn and I developed this cute morning routine back in college, where we met. We attended SCAD together and were lucky enough that we got along so well, both being art majors. Them in Art History and me in Photography. We used to cross the campus early enough to beat the lines, almost regretfully. We’re not exactly the greatest of morning people. I’d get the drinks, though, and they get the food. Only back then, it was just them assembling the breakfast sandwiches in the cafeteria while I tried to make the instant coffee drinkable. These days, it’s homemade lattes and skillfully grilled sandwiches. A vast improvement from our younger days. 

“Good morning, Willard,” They beam at me through heavily hooded eyes, already pulling out a pan.

“Morning,” comes out of my mouth in a choppy groan.

“Breakfast sammies?” They wiggle the pan a little. 

“Don’t!” I hold up my finger, “That is a banned word in this house.” I sit down on one of the stools at our island and place my head in my hands. 

“Breakfast?” they inquire. 

“No, Sammy.”

“Okayyyy.. Do you want a breakfast ‘he-who-shall-not-be-named?” they let out a chuckle. 

“HA HA, very funny,” I roll my eyes, “- but yes, please.” 

I make my way to the espresso machine, grabbing the portafilter and grinding up some fresh beans. I tamp down the grinds and place them back in their rightful spot before pressing the button to queue up the process. Repeating for Quinn’s second shot. Quinn is the complete opposite of basic in every aspect except their coffee order. A Vanilla Oat Milk latte, every time. I make it with extra love because that’s how it should be made. I quickly move on to my latte, only slightly adjacent to basic with toasted marshmallow flavoring instead. 

Finishing at roughly the same time we trade specialties and they say “Okay, all wrapped and ready to go when you are.”

“No, I have the time to sit and eat with you Quinny the Pooh, so that’s what I’m going to do.” I smile and make my way to the island in our kitchen. I prop up on my same stool and unwrap my sandwich. God, this looks good. If they weren’t an art teacher, they could hack it as a chef. 

Taking the first bite and rolling my eyes in the back of my head, “Good GOD, Quinn, you have outdone yourself again.”

“Thank you, Thank you. So tell me, how prepared are you to see Childish Sambino today?”

The glare I send them over my sandwich is deadly. “Do you have to talk about him?”

“We could talk about his mouth instead,” sending me a sideways glance. 

“Oh, would you look at that,” I glance down at my bare wrist as if it contained the most interesting watch. “I’m actually running late. I need to get ready for work.” I set my sandwich back down on the paper and rewrap it to take it to go. 

“Have a good day. Make good choices because we just paid rent and I don’t have bail money,” They laugh maniacally. I send them a snarky glare back before shutting my bedroom door behind me. 

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When I make it to the Portland Press Herald office, I open the door, and I’m greeted with the sweet face of an older woman working the desk. Thank god it’s not another Daisy. I’d rather jump off the building than have to watch Sam flirt with another girl all day. 

She leads me through the hallways until we reach a set of cubicles in the back corner.

 “Alright, this one is yours,” She points to the closest cubicle. “And this one,” she points to the cubicle diagonally across from it. “Is Samuel’s. I’ll send him over when he gets here and you can point it out to him if he gets lost.” Well, at least I won’t have to look directly at him. 

I start unloading my belongings onto my new desk and trying to arrange them perfectly. When Sam makes his appearance, he rounds the corner looking so good it's painful. The slim, dark blue slacks on his legs just hit the tops of his black Chelsea boots. A mixed red and blue sweater makes home on his chest, don’t think about his chest, with a navy linen winter jacket over top. God, he looks good. Annoying. No man my age looks like that let alone knows how to actually dress themselves. 

When I come to my senses, he’s standing expectantly next to my desk. Looking at me like he’s waiting for my reply to a question I haven’t heard him ask. Not willing to give in and appear like I’ve just been thinking about how hot this man I hate is, I dodge. 

I point to the clock reading 7:58 am, “Cutting it a little close, huh, Sammy boy.”

“It might not have been so close if you were sitting here staring at me like I’m a piece of meat.” He chides. Internally, I cringe. Yep, I was definitely not subtle. “I had car troubles,” He mumbles in a low tone, “Can you just show me which desk I’m supposed to sit at.” I wave my arm over toward his desk, and he walks away to get settled in his own space. Far away from me.. Well, okay, it's not that far, but it's far enough for me. 

He’s in a monumentally bad mood this morning, and after a while the sighs of frustration he's letting out start to tick me off. Who breathes that loudly on a normal day? We’re stuck inside the building researching things until we have an event or idea to even photograph, which is bad enough without the sound of his mouth. I just hope we can get it together sooner rather than later. The faster we find a subject matter, the more time we have to capture it. I hear another loud sigh. 

“Could you be any louder, Sam? All I can hear is your huffing?” I stand to get him in my eyeline over the divider. Big mistake. He’s wearing glasses now? I didn’t know he wore glasses. It should be illegal, to be honest, for him to look that good. 

“I’m just existing, Willa. Sorry that my existence annoys you.” He pauses, “Actually, I’m not sorry at all. I take great pleasure in the fact that my mere presence sends you into a fit of rage.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with a cocky smile. 

  Oh dear god, I definitely didn't prepare for this, this morning.

“This is not a fit of rage.” I sit back down calmly. Nope, not entertaining this today.

After a few minutes, it’s Sam’s turn to stand. If I lift my head, then I have to talk to him, so I stare at my computer screen where I’m currently researching different parks in the area. He clears his throat, and I don’t move. I will not be beckoned by his antics. He clears his throat louder this time. 

“Yes, Samuel.” I finally stop and clasp my hands together, annoyed.

“When did that cafe open up? The new down the road?”

“A couple months ago. Why? Are you going to buy me a coffee to make up for annoying me this morning?” A pleasantly sarcastic smile makes its way to my lips.

“HAH, you wish. No, I thought it could be something to check out for the project.”

“I would hardly call that cafe something that is notable about Maine. It just opened.” 

Clearly offended, he states, “Alright, let’s hear your big idea then?”

Sighing heavily, “I know I opened the dialogue here with you Sam, but I’ve suddenly realized that I am far too under-caffeinated to continue to be annoyed by you.”

“Well,” he laughs a little, adding fuel to the fire that is my irritation, “Aren’t you just a breath of vile air this morning.” he snarks.

“I might be more pleasant if your voice wasn’t so grating.” I shoot back. If tension were a physical entity in this moment, someone would be slicing it like a block of cheese being prepped for a charcuterie board. My stomach grumbles slightly. Oh, I am not going to let this man ruin charcuterie boards for me just because I am hangry. 

“Shhhh,” someone a few isles extends their distaste for our conversation. 

“See, look at what you’ve done.” 

“Oh, what I’ve done. I didn’t realize I was talking to myself here.” He defends.

I sit back down in a huff. I cannot believe I have to spend the next few days with this man. A fact that makes it very hard not to get increasingly frustrated by the task at hand. It's March, there’s not a whole lot going on in the city and instead of a partner who is easy to collaborate with, I'm stuck with him. 

Just as I get ready to do more digging, I get an email. 

Samuel F. Kiszka shared a document with you.

I wonder what the F stands for. I click the link. Compelled by my own nonsense, I sing in my head ‘Wheezy F baby and the F is for front door.’  

The document is titled ‘Ideas’ and a singular sentence is typed.

Since you can’t stand the sound of my voice and we can’t talk without getting heavily shushed by Susan B. NoseyPants, does this work?

Why is this simultaneously endearing and aggravating? Because yes, yes, it does work.

We take the time over what feels like a few hours bouncing ideas back and forth, and nothing seems to land with either of us. 

Sam: Museums, theaters, ect, ect we even have Funtown for the kids?

Me: You want to lead with Funtown? Palace Playland is better AND by the beach even? If you don’t believe in it, neither will the people at the newspaper.

Sam: I’m not even going to entertain that argument because Palace Playland is definitely NOT better. Have you ever been on the Excalibur?

We both stare at the document, watching the line blink on the screen when the banter is no longer fun. He stands suddenly. “I’m hungry.” He states plainly. “It's almost lunchtime.”

“Astute observation, Samuel. Should we promote you to Captain Obvious?”

“You’re actually the funniest person I’ve ever met, you know. No. I know a place, you and I are going to go get lunch.” He puts on his coat and grabs his bag walking over to my side of the desks. 

“We are? When did I agree to that?” skepticism heavy in my tone.

“Just now.” The manner in which he speaks matter-of-factly almost has me giving in instantly. Almost. “We need to get out of these little satanic cubes of torture and do some brainstorming. But we need brain food. I’m hungry. You’re hungry. We’re going, but you have to drive.”

“How do you know I’m hungry?”

“I’ve heard your stomach growling for over an hour.”

“Fine.” I concede. “But you’re paying.” I grab my heavy cardigan, slipping it on, and then grabbing my purse.

“That’s the spirit.” He says jovially, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I try not to think too hard about the grip he has on me as we make our way downstairs.

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The atmosphere of the restaurant he picked, “La Fromage”, is almost a bit uppity. How stuck up can you really be if you name your restaurant literally just ‘the cheese’. The lighting is low, even for the daytime, despite the two main windows in the front. The antique sconces create a nice, warm ambiance. It's a small room with bar seating and a few booths, which is where we take up residence right next to one of the windows. We’re tucked away in the corner but not too close to the front door. I slide into the booth against the wall while Sam takes the chair nearest to the walkway. 

“This place looks nice. I’ve never heard of it before. How’d you find it?” I’d be a fool to think he hasn't taken a girl here on a date before. He's young and attractive. A fact I would never admit out loud because it would just inflate his already massive ego. I’m sure he doesn’t have a problem dating, something I clearly can’t relate to. He did seem to hit it off with Daisy. I imagine this place in the evening; with the street lights coming in through the windows mixing with the amber lighting, it definitely sets a romantic tone. Much different than the tone of an afternoon in the middle of a work week. It would be lovely to come here on a date instead of a bar.

“They have a location in Boston, not far from where I went to school. I heard they opened a location up here not too long ago, but I haven’t come by yet. This seemed like the perfect opportunity.” He picks up the menu, giving it a once over before settling on the alcoholic portion. So he hasn’t been here on a date.. Yet. Ugh. Stop it. “You should get a glass of wine or something.” Not bothering to glance up at me. 

“I’m driving, Sam,” I state plainly. 

“If one glass of wine gets you drunk enough to not be able to drive you have other things to worry about,” he looks almost concerned for a moment before his face completely shifts. “Is that why you spilled your drink all over your date the other night?”

God, must I relive this? Why is he bringing it up? As if he has no idea it was his fault. “Sam, you snuck up behind me and scared me half to death. I jumped, it tipped. That’s it.” 

“If that’s your story.” The Cheshire cat smile painted on his lips looks almost good enough to smack. With my hand. Definitely my hand. 

I’m about to make a case for myself when the waiter approaches. 

“Afternoon, I’m Hunter. I'll be taking care of you today.” He looks over at me and winks. .. okay??? “Can I start you off with something to drink?”

Sam answers before my mouth even opens. “We’ll have two glasses of the 19 crimes red, please.” Why is he ordering for me? Hunter glances over at me like he’s trying to get a read on me. I realize then that my mouth is hung open slightly in disbelief. 

“Is that okay with you?” Hunter asks me. Sam scoffs. 

“Uh yes, yes, that’s fine.” I gain my composure and continue. “I’ll just also have a glass of water with no lemon, please. Thank you.” And with that, he turns and walks away. I don’t say anything. I just stare at Sam. He’s still gazing at his menu, brow furrowed a bit like he's mulling through his choices and can’t figure out what sounds good.

“19 crimes.” I chime. “Sounds devious. Did you commit all 19 by yourself? Or are you trying to drag me with you now?” 

He laughs. “You know you have to look at the menu in order to find something to eat, Willa.” The sound of my name on his tongue is jarring. Again, he’s not looking at me. I take his advice hastily grabbing my menu, peering at him over the top. There’s a smirk on his face. What is his deal? 

Hunter appears with our wine and my water with a lemon. Not wanting to create a fuss over a lemon I can very easily remove, I just say thank you when he sets it down on the oakwood table. 

“She asked for water without a lemon,” Sam’s face is serious; I sit there, horrified at the inconvenience to the waiter.  

“Oh, it's fine, really. Don’t-” he cuts my protest short, and I fidget, tucking my hair behind my ears.

“You asked for water with no lemon, Willa. This isn’t what you asked for.” Hunter takes the glass from his hand. When he turns and heads toward the kitchen, I whisper, “You didn’t have to do that, Sam. It’s not a big deal. Plus, that was kind of rude.”

“It’s not rude to expect to get what you asked for. You wanted water with no lemon, so you’ll get water with no lemon.” He says with finality. Why is that… attractive? I think he mistakes my stare as distaste for his commentary and quickly follows it up with, “If it makes you feel better, I’ll make sure to tip him well.” He shrugs a little.

I exhale heavily through my nose and change the subject, “What are you gonna get to eat?”

“The Gnocchi alla Sorrentini. What about you?”

“I was thinking of the Saffron Risotto aux Champignons. Have you tried it?” My mind drifts back to how many times he’s probably been to the other location and with whom. Wondering how many of these dishes he’s tried or if the menu is different there. How many glasses of wine he’s had or shared. 

“I have. It’s my favorite dish here. It’s very good,” When he flashes me a small, slightly lopsided smile, my heart squeezes in my chest. “I think you’ll like it.” 

We place our orders when Hunter comes back with my corrected water. He doesn’t make eye contact with Sam, but Sam looks directly at him when he tells him what he wants. There’s an obvious confidence about him that I like and something under the surface that feels almost like a challenge. Daring Hunter to look at him to know he has the upper hand on.. what, I can't figure out. Is this just some weird macho alpha male thing? I feel like one of them might start peeing on the floor to mark their territory in a minute. 

I tell Hunter my order and then switch my gaze to the window. Something I’ve always loved about Maine is the water. Across the street, back behind the sidewalk, is a relatively short dock. You can walk down it and see some of the boats lined up. There aren’t many since the area is narrow, but you can see out toward the river. Sometimes, you can see people in smaller fast boats; other times, it's the larger fishing boats. I once took a walk down that dock with an out-of-town friend of mine, and there was a lone man on his fishing boat throwing some lobsters back into the river. He offered to let us hold one for a photo which absolutely tickled my friend pink.

Hunter brings our food out and disappears without any other commentary. I’m not sure I could handle another moment of ‘big men puff out chest be intimidating’ behavior. I take a bite of the risotto, which tastes as good as it looks. God, I’m going to have to take Quinn here. They'd absolutely love it.

My thoughts are interrupted when a bird perched on the ledge just at the edge of the window catches my eye. And suddenly..

“Sam.” My eyes were fixated on the bird. He hums. “Do you .. hike?” Unsure if he’s an outdoorsy kind of guy, given how well he dresses himself.

“Yeah, all the time, why?”

“Maine is the pine tree state.” He sends me another mhm, not fully following my thought, “You know what one of my favorite things to shoot on hikes is?” I point toward the bird in the window, not giving him a chance to respond.

 “Nature. Literally, Maine is full of it. Like Acadia National Park? ‘Bah habah’” I say, mocking the more northern pronunciation of Bar Harbor. 

Finally, he reaches me at the mental finish line, “Nature! Birds, Trees, Parks, Woods.. No, you’re right? That’s what makes Maine, Maine.”

“Okay, but also beyond this little bird in the window, there’s the dock. Maine is incredibly coastal, lobsters and allathat. We could do both. Like the duality of the State. Woods and Water.” 

“Woods and water.” He repeats, taking a bite of his gnocchi. “Actually, you know what else could be a good idea? Old and New.”

“Old and new? What do you mean?”

“Digital and Print. I have a bunch of old film cameras. I kind of collect them,” a slight rosy tint covers his cheeks. “We could take an assortment of both digital and film photos and present both to the editors.”

“Sam, that's brilliant!” It takes us approximately three seconds to realize in my excitement, I’ve grabbed his hand that was laid on the table. We both pull away at the same time.

He clears his throat, “If you wanted, when we’re done, we could drive to my apartment, and we can take a look at the cameras I have and then figure out a plan.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” my meal suddenly becoming the most interesting thing to look at. 

After a small bit of silence, Hunter comes back with our checks. Yep, checks. Plural. Sam noticeably shifts in his seat. He is apparently incredibly put off by this, and he bites out, “Just one check will do, Heath.”

“It’s Hunter.” He corrects, unamused, as he grabs the checks.

“Sure.” is all Sam says. 

I laugh. I giggle, actually. Profusely. The situation at hand is far too entertaining to hold it in any longer. 

“What?” Sam grills me.

“Heath! You know his name is Hunter.” I try to cover my giggle with my hand. 

“I do, but I had to knock him down a peg. Assuming that I’d make you pay for your food?” he scoffs. 

“I am not breaking up a fight, so reel it in, buddy.” I shake my head.

 Hunter arrives with a corrected, singular check, sending us off with a ‘have a very pleasant day.’ Probably trying to play up a last-ditch effort of hospitality to ensure a decent tip still. Sam’s brow furrows as he looks over the check, he sets it down and runs his hand through his hair. No man should have hair that beautiful. My hair isn't even that beautiful. He starts to furiously pat himself down. 

“I.. think I left my wallet in the office.” Oh great. Wonderful. Annoys me all morning, cons me into driving, and now I have to pay. 

He winks at me, “Just kidding.” Tucking a few bills into the check holder and standing. What’s with everyone winking at me?

“Asshole.” I roll my eyes, grab my jacket, and slide out of the booth. As I stand, my foot catches on the leg of the table, and I slip. Sam rushes over to steady me upright back on my feet. 

“Wow, you really are a cheap date, huh?” he jests. I try not to think about that too hard. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”

“I’m fine. My foot got caught, okay? I am not drunk. It was one glass.”

“Sounds like something a drunk person would say.” His laugh is infectious, and I hate it. It's very hard to stay annoyed at someone who laughs like they’re high on edibles all the time. But not in a Beavis and Butthead kind of way, in a carefree kind of way.

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The drive to Sam’s apartment is short; he lives closer than he made it seem which makes it easy. What is not easy, however, is the fact that there's off-street parking. I end up parking my Silver Honda CRV down the road a little by a very creepy looking ally, and we make the short walk back to his apartment. He lives on the second floor, so we at least avoid being locked in an elevator again and just take the stairs. 

“Soo, I wasn’t expecting company, so don’t expect it to be too clean. And I should also warn you…”

“Warn me about what,” I say nervously. He opens the door in lieu of a response, and one of the largest dogs I’ve ever seen comes skidding across the floor. The dog jumps on Sam as he gently coos, “Woah down girl, down.” He scratches her behind the ears and continues his adoration. “How’s my girl today, huh? Did you miss me? Daddy missed you so much while he was gone.” Oh.

I step into the apartment and close the door behind me, coming into her view. She switches gears and suddenly jumps at me with full force. Given her size, and me being the least graceful person on the planet. I almost fall on my ass. 

“Op,” I blow a puff of air toward my nose, trying to get some of her hair out of the way. When I steady myself on two solid feet, thank you very much, I ask, “And what’s your name, pretty girl? I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me. It’s Penelope, by the way.” Sam replies. “Or Duchess, or Penny, Penny girl. Whichever you prefer.”

“Penelope is a pretty name. You hear that? Pretty name for a pretty girl huh?” I coo in a slight baby voice. She is a gorgeous dog even if she is large. Her coat is incredibly soft. It's covered in black and brown with white all down her belly and just a bit on her nose.

“You know you can come in, right? You don’t have to stand by the door?” He waves me in. 

“Uhm, actually. I have to use the bathroom, do you mind?” I hate this part. The awkward, I don't know you that well, and now we're talking about bodily functions, part of getting to know someone. 

“Yeah, but it's actually through my bedroom.” He points to the doorway behind me. “First door is my closet, the second door is the bathroom.”

I walk through the doorway and take in my surroundings. Sam’s room is different than I expected and somehow exactly like I expected it to be. Not that I’ve pictured it, because I definitely have not. He has a king-sized bed with boring gray sheets. Typical. His deep wood nightstand sits just below one of 2 windows in his room, both without curtains. It’s pretty bare just an alarm clock, a lamp, and a charging pad for his phone. He has a few small plants in the window, which I should have expected given there’s a handful of plants in his kitchen. The walls are bare, apart from the few prints above his bed that’s sat on a frame with no headboard. I wonder if they’re his photos? He has a dresser that matches his nightstand and a TV on top with a gaming console. A very standard boy room apart from the few totes of his film strips that hang around. I suddenly realize I’ve been lingering too long in a space that isn’t mine, and I make my way to the bathroom, but not before I accidentally open his closet. Wow, he has a lot of clothes? I start to finger my way through the various fabrics. A man with a sense of style, so uncommon for this area. I close the closet door and choose the right door this time. 

I rinse my hands under the warm faucet, letting my eyes close, and the water start to warm me. This is going to be fine. I look at myself in the mirror. It's going to be fine. The project will be fine. You and Sam will get along… eventually. You’ll get the job and you’ll never have to talk to him again. It’ll be fine. If I say the words enough, maybe I’ll start to believe them. I dry my hands off and exit the bathroom with a silent wish that I took less time than it feels like I did. 

I pop my head back into the kitchen area where I first walked in, but I don’t see him.. Or Penelope. I take small, cautious steps toward what I assume is the living room. Just as I’m about to enter, I run full-bodied into Sam, causing my forehead to bounce right off his collarbone. A mixture of frustrated sounds escapes the two of us before he plants both his large hands on my shoulders and steps an arm’s length away from me. I rub at the pain between my eyes. Ouch.

“I thought you got lost for a minute.”

“No I just.. Didn’t know where you were. I wasn’t trying to invade your space.”

“Little late for that, isn’t it,” he gestures a hand between us, referring to our closeness. “Plus, there are only so many rooms, Willa. You would have found me eventually.” I hate it when he says my name. He turns and walks farther into the room calling after me, “You comin?”

I enter the room and it’s actually fairly large for it being in the city. Good, decent-sized apartments are hard to find here. There’s a half-brick wall behind the orange couch. The large windows set above it let in a ton of light but somehow don’t reflect off the TV screen sitting opposite it. He has records stored in a few different places and an old-style record player. A Fender Bass guitar and a small amp sit in the corner. I didn't know he could play an instrument. A small standing desk in the corner where his laptop sits among various other papers and notebooks. And to the left, there's a beautiful wall of shelves set up with a handful of film cameras. All old, each serving a unique purpose. It’s heaven for a person like me. I don't know why I've never thought to collect film cameras before. 

“Wow.” It comes out of my mouth barely above a whisper.

“I know. It's my favorite part of my house.” He’s proud. And he should be. I can feel the weight of his eyes on me, studying my reaction.

“Where did you get them all?” I question, reaching to touch one before I pull my hand back. It would be rude to just touch something so delicate and important, but the desire in me is burning. 

“Flea markets and vintage shops. Ebay. I even bought one off Etsy, oddly enough.” 

The anticipation is killing me, and I start to shift anxiously on my feet. I feel like a child at a candy store waiting for permission to let loose and stock my bag full. I’m sure from the outside I look like a child at a candy store, but I don’t care. If Sam didn’t annoy me so much, I might try to con my way into being friends with him just so I can test each one out. Every old camera has its own quirks it has developed over the years. Like it curated its own personality, stealing bits from each person that has held it. It’s a fun experience to learn a camera. 

“Go ahead.” he stifles his chuckle. 

I run my fingers over the few cameras on the bottom shelf.  He has a few different cameras from a few different decades, definitely older than both of us combined. I settle on a ‘1981 vintage Kiev camera Jupiter’; it doesn't shoot in 35mm like most standard film cameras. It shoots in 8m, creating a wider shot, not quite like today's panorama views. 

“I love that one. She creates these really beautiful wide shots. You gotta make sure you press quick and hard, though, or you won’t actually capture the photo.” He steps behind me and places his hand on mine, tilting the camera upwards before pointing at the button he’s referencing. His hands are so warm. When I inhale to disrupt my own thoughts, my back touches his chest. His chest is warm, too. Oh God. It's too warm in here. I step forward and turn around, facing him again. 

“She’s beautiful. I think I’ll go with this one. Thank you, Sam.” I dare to look at his coffee-colored eyes. “I know lending out something this special is a big deal. So thank you.”

“Just be careful. Josephine was a hard find." He grabs the camera from my hand and walks over to the couch where his camera bag is, slipping it inside.

“Josephine?” I question, “Do you.. name all your cameras?”

“Don’t judge me, okay. You’re telling me you don’t name yours? What about your car huh?” Oh, he’s got me there.

“I.. have named every car I’ve ever had.” I raise my hands in defeat and bow my head in amusement. 

“Alright then. Take your judgy pants off and leave 'em at home.”

“Hey, aren’t you going to grab one?” avoiding the previous comment entirely. 

“Nah, I always have my Olympus on me. I shoot on film any chance I can get.” He picks up his bag and slides it back on his shoulder. 

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Back in my car and buckling our seat belts, he says, “So I was thinking about the woods and water idea, and maybe we can shoot in town to save time and then, uhm, tomorrow.. uhh, if you’re free, we could do the woods stuff.” He seems nervous, and I can’t quite place my finger on why. I agree, placing my car in reverse and backing onto the main road. 

“I know of a nice place we can go… For tomorrow, I mean.”

“Should I be concerned you’re going to murder me in the woods?”

“I would never do that.”

“Sounds like something a murderer would say to a potential victim.” I side-eye him before returning my gaze to the road. “Don’t try anything, I most definitely will be bringing pepper spray tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m on sabbatical. Even serial killers need a break.” He flashes me a cocky smile and winks at me once again. The next person who winks at me is going to end up with their eyeball on a skewer. I SWEAR.

“Okay, now we're taking separate cars. That is, if you can even make it.”

“How dare you talk about Edith like that.” Raising his eyebrows in offense. “She is a gem and has been through a lot. She just needs TLC is all.”

“Edith? Josephine? What is this, the 1940s?” 

“Hey! Edith and Josephine are great names. They’re vintage– my truck is older than I am, so it makes sense.” He shrugs. “What’s your car's name, huh?”

“Jon Bon Silver Fox.” I try not to smile at the ridiculousness of it, but it’s sentimental, sort of. And it makes me laugh.

“Jon Bon… Silver Fox..” repeating my words slowly. “Like Jon Bon Jovi?”

“Like Jon Bon Jovi. My mom loved him when I was growing up so she always had his music playing, I grew up loving him too. Nowadays he's a silver fox, my car is silver, therefore: Jon Bon Silver Fox.”

“You would like mom-rock,” we both laugh, and I send him a small eye-roll to follow. 

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After finding another off-street parking spot, god, I hate Portland. We have a small huddle before deciding to split up and see what we can find. Our version of splitting up is just heading the same way down the road and shooting on opposite sides of the sidewalk, but it works. 

As annoying as the parking situation is in this city, it's absolutely beautiful here. Every building is made up of tattered red bricks because everything in this city is old. Old, but beautiful. There’s a history here, every spot has a story. Every small restaurant is owned by someone's grandfather or great-grandfather and passed down through generations. Sidewalks with initials carved into them, we even have our own version of the ‘love locks’. 

The evening breathes a different light, though. It’s painted with character right down to the cobblestone streets the drunk girls wobble down during the summer nights. The “cobble wobble” will never not be funny to me, especially since I’ve been that girl a time or two. 

I spot a Song Sparrow; at least I think that’s the correct bird. It's a small little thing with a tan body and dark brown spots, and it's absolutely beautiful. I crouch down, trying to make myself small so he doesn’t get scared and fly away. Aiming for a shot on the vintage camera I’ve borrowed from Sam, I realize the view is far too wide for what I need. 

“Sam!” I whisper-shout, looking around for him. When I don’t see him I call his name again a little louder. He pops his head up from behind a bush and I frantically wave him over pressing a finger to my lips to quiet him. He kneels down behind me. 

“I need this,” I say, grabbing his camera, still attached to his neck by his camera strap. He leans into me further as I pull the viewfinder close to my eye. I adjust the settings as quickly as I can so I don’t miss it.

He's far too close to my ear when he whispers to me, “I can take it off, you know?” A shiver runs down my back from the heat of his breath. Focus, Willa. 

“There’s no time. I don’t want him to fly away,” I click a couple times, and he shifts on his feet, crinkling whatever wrapper is trapped between his shoe and the pavement. 

“Shhhh,” I reach my hand across my body and grab his face blindly, my eye still glued to the camera. “Don't. Move.” I release him. One more click, and I’m certain I’ve got a good shot. 

“Did you get it?” He whispers in my ear again. I turn to face him, and he is so close to me. I follow his eyes as they meet mine and drop down to my lips. Oh, no.

I clear my throat, “Yeah, I think I did. Uhm,” I squeeze my lids shut and pause, trying to center myself. We both rush to stand at the same time. In the flurry of limbs, I seem to trip over my own foot, losing my balance completely. Sam lunges toward me but isn’t quick enough. I have no idea how I am the least graceful person alive. I grab the antique camera around my neck and on my way to the ground and try my best to hold it in the air. My ass takes all the damage in the fall but the camera remains perfectly intact. I breathe a sigh of relief, if Josephine was hard to find once, she'd be hard to find twice. 

“Jesus christ, Willa,” he hurries to my side. His next words don’t match the concern on his face. “You have to be more careful. You could have broken something!” He scolds me. His camera? That’s what he's worried about? I look down at the palm on my left hand, it's scuffed and bleeding slightly. Small rocks embedded in my skin. My ass is definitely going to have a bruise.

“Don’t worry, Sunshine. Your camera is fine,” I roll my eyes and brush myself off before standing. I hiss as my hand starts to throb. “Ah fuck” I mutter under my breath, waving my hand, trying to shake off the pain. 

“No..” a prolonged deep sigh escapes his lips. “Never mind, just be more careful,” reiterating his initial point. 

“Yeah, Got it.” I snap. Annoyance settles through me to my core once again. A constant state of being when I’m around him. Does he really think I’d be the type of person to let his shit break? “No, you know what. You always have some slick comments to say. Like you might just spontaneously combust if the world doesn’t hear your shitty commentary. Why are you always a jerk?”

“Telling you to be careful, is me being a jerk?” He defends.

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to your camera, Sam. So, please, can you not think I’m an idiot for five seconds?” I huff out.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot? I think you’re a klutz and definitely way too cranky for your own good, but I definitely don’t think you’re stupid.” Sounding slightly confused. For the love of god, why is he confused? 

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Can we go? I got what I needed, and I definitely don’t want to look at you anymore.” I start to head back toward my car. 

“I hope it gives you hell when you do, Birdie.” he follows in my footsteps. Birdie? What the hell is that?

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I somehow have found myself back at the Caravel Tavern. I say somehow but what I really mean is Quinn forced me, and I really can never say no to them. They know that and pull the ‘I’m your best friend’ card constantly. They’re lucky I love them so much.

“I cannot believe you made me come back here.” I shrink in my seat, trying to appear as small as possible. We’re sitting toward the back but not entirely in the corner. I face the door so I can see most of the bar to try and prevent someone from sneaking up on me. A thing that I learned does not actually work when it comes to this place. 

“Please, you act like I'm not at all nosy and don’t want to see the face of the man who keeps you lying awake at night.” Quinn teases.

“I do not lie awake at night. He just annoys me every waking moment of every waking day that I have to interact with him. Did I tell you he wore glasses today? It’s bad enough that he knows how to dress himself, but then to wear glasses? It made his face extra punchable.”

“Babes, that’s called cuteness aggression.”

“No, Absolutely not. He’s annoying, not cute. He also started calling me Birdie today. No idea why. Birdie??” In the middle of my defense, I notice Quinn’s eyes go wide and then the bartender I haven’t met yet appears from behind me, effectively scaring me. What is it with this place?

“Welcome, Welcome!” he says, as cheerful as if sunshine itself had manifested in our presence.

“Is it written in the manual as a requirement that you sneak up behind your guests and scare them?” I inquire. 

“Ahh yes, actually. It's in the section of the manual right next to ‘How to deal with cheeky customers’,” He throws me an equally cheeky side eye and a smile. 

“Ya know, I like you. At least one of you can grow a mustache around here.”

“I’m not Employee of the Month for nothing. Be on the lookout for a framed photo of yours truly on the wall over there.” He makes a small gesture toward the bathrooms. 

“So what, can I get you started with today?” At least one person who works here is funny. He’s charming in a way that Sam wishes he was. Effortlessly so. He’s not cocky or arrogant, he’s just funny and warm. Warm in a way that if all the people of the world were like that, it would be a better place. He takes our orders, making us laugh through the whole interaction, which is a nice change of pace from the last few days. He pauses a moment before he leaves and his gaze lingers on Quinn a bit. Interesting.

“I think he thinks you’re cute, Q,” I whisper to them like a gossiping old bitty. 

“He’s related to the owner.” They tell me, whispering back.  

“Jesus Christ, there’s three of them?”

“Three of them?”

“Yeah, the one who can’t grow a mustache owns the bar, and Sam is his brother. If this one is related to the owner too, then they’re all brothers.” I pause.

 “Wait, how do you know he’s related to the owner?” I look over toward the bar and accidentally make eye contact with Sam. “Oh god.” I whisper, “That’s him. Quinn, don’t look, he's coming over here.”

“What happened to not wanting to look at me? Change your mind and come to gaze at my devilish handsomeness?” Sam exudes cockiness from every orifice. What a tool. 

“Devilish, yes. Handsome, debatable. I came for a drink. Had to unwind after dealing with the world's worst coworker today.” I flutter my eyelashes and throw him a sarcastic smile. 

“Yeah, that Susan is an uptight bitch, huh?” He takes notice of Quinn, looking them up and down in their striped, earth-toned sweater and mocha-colored overalls. Their hair in their signature pixie cut curls. 

“And who is this?” He asks while maintaining his gaze on Quinn. 

“Uh, Sam, this is my roommate, Quinn. Quinn, this is my project partner, Sam.” He reaches out to shake their hand, which they return apprehensively.

“Birdie, you didn’t tell me your roommate was hot.” I would pay money to have had someone record this interaction because Quinn’s face is priceless. Maybe now they understand the hell I go through.

The third brother appears from out behind Sam, then in the sneaky way they all seem to have perfected. 

“OKAY.” He says loudly, clamping his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t you have some shit to take care of? Like your job.” Sam starts to try, and pull his shoulder away. By the grimace he’s making, he has a tight grip on his brother. Sam breaks free and rubs at his shoulder. 

“Ow, Josh,” He says, not low enough to escape my ears. What a baby. I wonder if he’ll complain about that, too. Probably. 

“So, sorry about him. He doesn’t get out much. He acts a bit rabid when he sees real people.” Josh pads off to return to his other duties. 

“Do you see what I mean? He’s intolerable.”

“Absolutely, completely intolerable.”

“Thank you.” 

“No, you’re right, Wilson. Sam IS cute.” They say a bit too loud for my taste. “Shhhhh. I never said that!” I look around frantically to see if any of the brothers are within earshot and regretfully notice a smirk on Sam’s lips. Curse Quinn and their antics.

&lt;- Chapter Three Chapter Five

Masterpost | Taglist

Taglist 💜 :

(I don't know what happened last week with the tags I double checked this week 😅)

@gvfsstardust @myleftsock @mindastreamofcolours @imleavingyoufornewyork @dont-go-home-without-me@literal-dead-leaf, @lizzys-sunflower @threadofstars @mackalah @klarxtr @ourlovesdesire, @writingcold @edgingthedarkness @takenbythemadness @i-love-gvf @ladywhimsymoon @earthgrlsreasy @peaceloveunitygvf, @violet-hayes @anythingforjtk

#gvf #greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fluff #gvf fic #sam kiszka fanfiction #sammy gvf #sam kiszka #sammy kiszka #sam gvf #sam kiszka gvf #sam kiskza #gvf fanfiction #sam x willa #jake gvf #josh gvf #danny gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van smut #greta van fleet smut #greta van angst #greta van rom com #gvf rom com #imagine gvf but rom coms #romance #SOTD #the caravel tavern series #sparrow sam #sam x reader #sam kiszka smut

[imakatperson22]

WIP WEDNESDAY - RIAZ FIC

Would love feedback on this!

“You’re talking to me before coffee, you should know better,” Josh quips again hoping to deter Maddie from picking up on his distraction. He opens the fridge to grab the oat milk.

”I asked you if you could watch Jee while Chimney and I go to see Wicked this Sunday. Our normal sitter is out with the flu and we’ve had these tickets for months and we have the time off scheduled already. It would only be for a couple hours,” Maddie grabs her own mug down from the cabinet.

”She’s out of diapers now, right?” Josh winces. He doesn’t do diapers.

”Just a pull up for overnights, but we’d be home before her bedtime anyways, we have tickets for the early showing,” Maddie hands Josh the sugar, “You can sit her in front of the TV and put on Bluey the whole time, she’ll be fine. I just need someone to make sure the house doesn’t burn down around her.”

”Do I get the sitter’s rate too, or…” Josh stirs his coffee. Maddie gives him a scowl, “I’m kidding, of course I’ll do it.”

”Thank you so much, you’re the best!” Maddie reaches for her phone to text Chimney the good news but looks up, “So what’s up with you this morning?”

“I met someone,” Josh concedes and Maddie’s face immediately lights up, “No, stop, we are not excited about this. I am not getting my hopes up.”

”Is this about…Greg… because it’s been a few years and you deserve to get out there again,” Maddie tries to reassure Josh.

”No, actually, it’s not about that at all. I know this guy isn’t going to beat me down and steal my key card to take me and all my coworkers hostage. He’s a good guy. It’s just that he’s straight, at least he says he is. Maybe he’s just not out yet or he doesn’t know. It’s complicated. I know better than to chase guys like that, but this one? I could see myself really falling for him,” Josh opens up to Maddie and it feels good to get it off his chest.

“Where did you guys meet?” Maddie probes further. She’s always been one for delicious details.

”A bar…” Josh tries to keep things as vague as possible. Maddie doesn’t need to know it’s her brother’s best friend that he had reconnected with at her house. He would never hear the end of it if she knew she had a hand in playing matchmaker and it isn’t his place to out Eddie or give people any sort of impressions. Besides, they did meet at a bar, just not for the first time…

”What’s he like? What is it about him that’s got you so hung up?” She continues her line of questioning with a sip of coffee.

”Well he’s hot for one. Like, a certified L.A. ten,” Josh blushes, “but it’s more than that. He’s strong yet gentle. He makes me feel more confident. He has this big heart and these big brown eyes and he cares so much about so many things and I wanna be one of those things. God, we had this one magical night together but I just… he’s not going to be the ‘happily ever after guy’.”

“So you met this great guy in a bar, but he’s got some baggage attached to him,” Maddie sips her coffee again and glances at the clock. Almost time to get started. “But you really really like him. I say you should stick around, see how it plays out.”

”And why should I do that?” Josh starts walking towards the door to the break room to start his shift.

”Because he’s the first guy you’ve even considered a connection with in four years. He must be some guy, and I don’t want him to become the ‘one who got away guy’ for you,” Maddie drops on him. He hates it when she’s right.

#911 abc #911 #911 on abc #911 show #911 fanfic #current wip #wip #wip wednesday #wip tag #writing wip #eddie diaz #gay eddie diaz #josh russo #riaz #mlm ship #mlm yearning #gay mlm #mlm #mlm love #fanfiction #fanfic

[bakedbakermom]

introducing: anti-hangry cookies

so i have 3 problems going for me right now when it comes to food. 1) i am on meds that kill my appetite, so i forget to eat until other physical symptoms manifest, and even then it is difficult to make myself actually consume something. 2) my sense of taste never recovered after i had covid, so my desire to snack has gone way down and i no longer find most things enjoyable or fulfilling to eat. 3) even though i am overweight, the part of my brain that sees items 1+2 as a good thing that could make me lose weight is currently gagged and straightjacketed because she is crazypants and keeps trying to kill me. i am a recovering anorexic in the same way some people are recovering alcoholics; it's something that i have to actively monitor in myself even years after "finishing" treatment." i MUST eat, or i will spiral.

by about 4pm i am literally weak with a hunger i cannot feel, my mind foggy and my whole body basically vibrating with hanger, and fighting tooth and nail to make myself eat something, anything, please. enter the anti-hangry cookie.

i originally made these when i was nursing to get my milk supply up (they are technically called "lactation cookies"); i don't know if they actually helped with that, but damn were they great to have around because they're the super rare combination of taste good and good for you and easy to eat that is absolutely essential in those bleary early days of parenthood. turns out that kind of snack is necessary outside of that time period, as well.

the good: rolled oats, full of whole grain, fiber, vitamins, and even some protein. brewers yeast, with more good vitamins and protein, plus good for the tummy. flax seed, B vitamins, omega 3s, fiber.

the fantastic: basically the best chocolate chip oatmeal cookie ever. there's a hint of cinnamon, and somehow the brewers yeast and flax seed only enhance that flavor rather than making it taste too, well, healthy lol. also you cannot taste the coconut oil, so if that's not your favorite flavor, fear not: you get the benefits without that sunscreen taste.

INGREDIENCE

3c old-fashioned rolled oats 1 1/2c all-purpose flour 5 tbs brewers yeast 3 tbs ground flax seeds 1/2 tsp baking powder 1/2 tsp baking soda 1/2 tsp cinnamon 1/4 tsp salt 3/4c (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temp 1/4c unrefined coconut oil 1 1/2c sugar 1 large egg + 1 egg yolk, room temp 2 tsp vanilla extract 1 bag dark chocolate chips

optional: 1/2c peanut butter, SO GOOD

whisk together oats, flour, yeast, flax, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, and salt.

beat butter, coconut oil, and sugar (and pb, if using) together until fluffy, then add the egg and yolk and beat to combine. add the vanilla and beat again. gradually add in the dry ingredients on low speed until just mixed. it will be a bit crumbly. then mix in the chocolate chips.

scoop the dough into 1-inch rounds (i use a cookie scoop and then roll them in my hands). rolling into a ball is actually fairly important here, since otherwise they'll crumble apart a fair bit in the oven; rolling smushes them into a delightfully dense cookie. (obvs go ahead and skip the rolling if crumbly cookies are your jam.) place on a baking sheet about 2" apart and bake at 350 for 10-14 minutes.

the original recipe says it makes 20-22 cookies but that is BONKERS because i can easily get 36 good-sized cookies out of this. i typically bake a dozen and freeze the rest (in ball form, don't throw a big lump of dough into your freezer), and then bake them for 12-16 minutes straight from the freezer.

here's the remaining ~2 dozen dough balls in my freezer. confession: i actually prefer the ones baked from frozen to those made from the fresh dough! they stay taller in the oven and spread less, creating a delightful cookie experience that is somehow dense and fluffy at the same time.

try one in the shower. just do it. shower cookie is best cookie

#being kind to the soft and tender animal of my body #long post sorry #recipe #hangry #cookies

[jediofbooksandsnacks]

Sunset to midday: Shinkane in daylight

So this screenshot is the thing that made me finally put together this post:

Cuz where is Kogami? On a balcony. And it looks like it is after dark, which makes the Inner Nerd in me go Squee! because they might be playing this into the overall parallels of balconies and sunlight that make this post tick.

The sunlight--or lack thereof--reflects their feelings in specific Shinkane scenes. Now, it’s not all Shinkane scenes, of course, and if I missed anything, please let me know.

Thanks for prodding me to finish this, @shikkokans​. It took me A LONG WHILE, and I kept forgetting to post it for a long time (RIP me) but! Here it is.

So, my other disclaimer: this is a Shinkane blog. Other PP ships are of course Very Cool and Very Awesome and Very Sexy, but Shinkane is, of course, the lens I am going to light this up, just like how Kogami lights his smokes. Cool? Cool.😊

Akane learns about Kogami’s fall from high-paid Inspector to super-depressed Enforcer about a third of the way through Season 1. Here she is, standing on the afternoon balcony* as Gino delivers the news:

The skyline here has a lot of yellow, but some purple / pink is JUST (and I mean just) visible in the bottom left corner as the early afternoon creeps on. Keep that in mind for later.

Some Shit Happens, and Kogami breaks his promise to her to be a detective and escapes to kill Makishima. And here she is, in the Middle of All That Shit, reading his goodbye letter as early evening (i think of this as about 5 pm? golden hour, I guess?) sets in across the city:

It’s yellow, yes, and blue, and the purple is creeping in on the right side. Much more colorful than the last instance, yes? Also: Goddammit, Kogami.

Akane is Absolutely Not Giving Up, so she makes it her mission to track him down. More Shit Happens and she succeeds, but in a way that smashes her faith in her own constructed society. To catch Kogami she has made a deal with the Sibyl System. (Now, Akane doesn’t read to me a character to break her promises, but who knows? Also, I wouldn't extend that same courtesy to the System.) When she finds Kogami, Akane works with him to try and bring down Makishima, even though their perspectives don’t necessarily align. As this happens, the sun begins to set across the valley.

It does not go super well for her.

The violet / purple is pretty strong here, against the gold in the sky and of the hyper oat field, all below the various pinks and reds of the setting sun. (This is also the scene where we see Kogami’s concern for her reflected in his eyes.) Kogami almost loses his shit when he sees her clinging to the back of that truck. When he reaches her after the crash and calms himself down, he leaves her on the tarmac. Then, he takes back Masaoka’s gun and gives chase. As the sun sets, Kogami catches up to and shoots Makishima, forcing them (read: Shinkane) into darkness.

(Also: romantic or platonic, tell me that’s not love.)

The next time she tracks him down, it’s blue blue blue at the movie’s midnight.

She is seen here, practicing Romeo, oh Romeo on this balcony. (I kid.) There is no way Kogami is coming back to Japan, of course. But she still had to try.

Also, as a side note, in the beginning of S1 the show features her walking behind him and quite specifically looking for his advice. In this, her back is to him while he looks to her for advice, a reversal of their usual positions. (Development baby!)

So, the next screenshot is from Sinners of the System. We get a reflective Kogami, here, staring at the rising sun:

Again, notice the purple and the pink pushing away the deep blue of midnight. (This is the shot that started this whole deal, since the color palate is so similar to other Shinkane-focused scenes, and here we are.) My own super lame joke is that this is him realizing the dawn of his own feelings for Akane; but don’t be me, dudes. Take it as you will.

So, he agrees to go back to Japan at the end of Sinners, only to find Akane locked up in a detention center. The audience (me; I’m the audience) has no idea why she is in the detention center, but there she is.

This was . . . not the reunion he had in mind. The only light here is faded and yellow and artificial (which brings to mind their movie meeting on the midnight balcony; but this is somehow worse . . . and hey, check out those iron bars stationed between them). Keep in mind that they don’t face each other in this scene, until the very end.

But! With some finagling from Homura, Akane is eventually released. Here is what she sees to greet her:

Look at the sunlight as she escapes her cage:

Now she can finally face him in the full sunlight, one on one, to tell him . . . they are getting lunch. I mean, Kogami is surprised, too. (Her top looks like a heart, here, and think of who she is with . . . either way, SUPER cute.) But, considering where she is going, it’s still nice to return to normal for just a little while with one of her favorite people.

Kogami obliges.*

So there you go: the track of the sun mirroring their developing relationship.

I’m nervous and excited to find out what happened / what will happen between them when the next part releases, and I’ll be hanging on for all 30 of those seconds. Until then, thanks for reading! 😊

*A lot of this happens on balconies . . . like in that famous scene from that play . . . and if you couple that with Target: Juliette from the film . . . it makes me SUPER nervous, is all I’m saying.

*So in English "going out to eat” can be understood in two ways. One is clear, the other is NSFW. Now, I don’t know Japanese or have any idea if this is at all or in any way intentional. But in my headcanon, they are indulging in some NSFW fine dining.

#psycho pass #akane tsunemori #shinya kogami #shinkane #psycho pass meta

[horuhosu]

an (admittedly long) hol horse backstory 🤠

i denounce hol horse's backstory in the new crazy heartbreakers novel and have had a personal one for ages that i am currently turning into a fic, but i thought i'd finally share a summarized version here under the cut if you can’t wait for updates! of course, this is all my headcanon, so feel free to just read, go "that's cool!" and carry on :p

Childhood

to begin: this man's legal name is NOT hol horse. no way. we all know this. so!

holland daryl oates is born sometime in september 1963 to stephanie, who dies in childbirth & curtis, who is now a single father to a son. eventually, curtis remarries a woman named beth when holland is ≈ 3 years old. beth has a daughter of her own, kerry, who is about 12 years old. he has a good relationship with kerry - not so much with his dad (he sort of blames him for stephanie's death, but doesn't say it out loud) and his stepmother has always preferred her own daughter, but their relationship is not bad, per se.

(hol and kerry)

curtis & the blended family run a general store in a small town in texas, and holland helps grow produce and the like. he enjoys westerns and being outside like any texan boy would!

one day, holland just so happens to get angry at something - he gets bullied a lot at school and never stands up for himself, always has someone else go stand his ground with him. could stand up to people by himself if he wanted to, but..... doesn't like doing things by himself, and he never will enjoy doing things himself - after all, why be number one when you can be number two? a philosophy learned VERY early on. he's been in the backseat when compared to his older sister for years, and they work together well. why change it?

he's mad & upset... and alone in a field to let off steam, he feels this sudden weight in his hand. it is WAY too heavy for him, and he doesn't know what's happened, but he looks over and sees what appears to be a gun, way too big for him, in his hand.

a ... gun?

he's scared, but curiosity gets the best of him. so, he aims for this rock across the way. and he ... surprisingly ... doesn't miss. so he tries again for another target! and it doesn't miss! this is, however, simply beginner's luck (plus we know how Emperor works, so i won't waste time explaining.)

at this point, holland believes it to just be his silly ghost gun, and he has named it "Silver Secret." kind of lame, but he's maybe ≈ 8 years old, so leave him be. he's very impressed by it, but keeps it a secret. it's a gun, after all.

The Robbery and the Fallout

cut to months later, and what was meant to be a peaceful day is not. it's anything but. a man tries to rob the store with kerry behind the counter, demanding money and throwing around gendered insults. holland can't stand and watch his sister be disrespected and threatened. he has to do SOMETHING!

he can't do much, however, but he decides to try to scare the robber with "Silver Secret." a few warning shots.

and so he summons it and lets some bullets fly.

after that, he excitedly turns to kerry, happy to have saved her.

"didcha see, kerry? i have a gun! i can protect us!"

she did not see.

nobody saw.

all they saw was some kid making a finger gun, and now a man is bleeding out on the floor of the shop, soon being rushed to the hospital. however, this potential robber is dead on arrival.

as such, holland becomes an outcast - people are afraid of him despite him being just a little boy. what hurts him the most is that kerry is scared more than anyone - his own big sister, scared out of her mind to be around her little brother now after it seems he mystically killed a man. it has obviously scared the town as well, and the shop loses business to the point of shutting down. who would want to visit the store where a man died so mysteriously, owned by a man with a son as a killer?

the incident causes a huge fight between curtis and beth - his freaky son scarred her daughter and made them lose their business. it gets so rough and so rocky that words break it apart. as expected, this ends in their divorce, and beth takes kerry away with her. holland and kerry never see each other again, nor ever keep in contact. this incident strains curtis' and holland's relationship as well, obviously.

at 13, a few years after the incident, holland doesn't wanna go by his name anymore (who would?), but doesn't know what else to call himself, so he stays holland a bit longer.

it's at 18, when curtis kicks him out and tells him to fend for himself that holland comes up with his new alias - but not without stealing his father's favorite hat as a keepsake in the morning when he leaves. a final "fuck you" of sorts. it's his hat now and becomes a staple of his reinvented look. on the road, holland comes up with something he thinks is cool. it's kinda lame in hindsight, but he's ditching his real name in favor of it. i feel we can guess what this name is …

A New Alias

he starts going by hol horse, and he knows he has no clue wants he wants to do with his life. ends up a ladies' man, hired by people to do dirty work bc they'd heard the rumors of him doing a "mystical" killing when he was younger. hol realizes if people can't see his weapon, he's got no chance of being caught. this begins his foray into hitman work, and if that's what he needs to do…

this carries on for a while - hol's being a little bit of an asshole bc he's free to do whatever (though usually he's on the hunt for what pays best.) soon, he ends up in Egypt - he's making fair money and can travel the world. lots of people to kill, ladies to woo, places to see.

A Fated Meeting & New Work

however, hol is suddenly contacted through a letter by this strange somebody, who demands to see him, as they've heard of his "almost mystical weapon of choice." he goes to visit this mysterious man, who introduces himself to him and his right hand woman. this mysterious man asks him to show off this "mystical weapon" - and hol obliges.

this man then imparts the knowledge of a Stand to hol, and has his right hand woman assign it a card of the Tarot. upon meeting hol, and getting a feel for him as a person, he is assigned none other than the Emperor (though she thinks this card should belong to her son, truthfully). hol thinks that name matches a hell of a lot better than "Silver Secret."

as part of his goals to increase power and convince hol to stay under his wing, DIO promises riches upon riches, and pairs him with enya's son,  j. geil (note that hol never knows anything more ab j. geil than he is enya's son and their stands work well together. he learns about all his crimes and abuse towards women only after him and enya are dead.) 

something about hol feels untrustworthy, though, like DIO knows hol won't ever bow down to him, so he fleshbuds him just in case. 

for two years before SDC, they carry out DIO's wishes. eventually, DIO asks them to set out for the joestar group, and especially to watch out for a jean-pierre polnareff…

and then this, obviously, leads into SDC and canon as a whole. things then play out EXACTLY as you know them.

#hol horse #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #stardust crusaders #headcanons #hol horse 🐴

[anachrosims]

I had an epiphany about the greige luxe aesthetic disk horse and I’m here to share it:

Aesthetics are (mostly) neutral things, provided the aesthetic itself isn’t evoking/promoting an ideology that’s rooted in bigotry and/or harming other people. You’re allowed to like greige luxe, which is what I am personally going to call it from now on. Basically, an aesthetic on its own is not good/evil, it didn’t kill your sensei, etc.

Trends, however? Oh, my friends in Christ! My Dear Honeys and Bunches of Oats! Here’s where it gets fun, because trends imply a group of instances within a period of time. A trend is something you can chart out using a graph to say, “this style is being used X (how much it’s used) over Y (a period of months/years).”

When people gripe about the greige luxe nightmare, it’s because we’ve been experiencing it in a gradual crescendo for well over a decade. When a person gripes about a trend, it isn’t a personal attack against people who happen to genuinely have that personal taste, though I’m sure it can often feel like one.

 The problem in this specific case is that greige luxe has a lot of cultural baggage rooted in classism (this aesthetic has been promoted by companies sponsoring overpriced brands--looking at you Magnolia Home) and the diluting (literally) of other styles into being watered down. It’s taken the sleek and often fun pop of midcentury, Scandi, and midcentury modern and even rustic styles and literally neutralized them, sanding off the “rough” edges to make it all more appealing to a wider audience. 

Don’t believe me? Check out this article from the Guardian from 2022, which discusses that “... the origin of this great wave of grey goes back through centuries of western culture to a longstanding prejudice against bright colors, as explored by the artist David Batchelor in his 2000 book Chromophobia.” It goes on to explain, “Goethe’s Theory of Colors, published in 1810, maintained that bright colors were suited to children and animals, not sophisticated adults. ...  Still today, words such as ‘lurid’ and ‘garish’ have negative connotations. ‘Color is often represented as feminine, or Oriental, or primitive, or infantile, rather than grown-up and philosophical and serious … and it’s clearly indexed to issues of race, culture, class and gender,’ says Batchelor.” 

The article further elaborates on this by comparing the trend to what is associated with “’refined taste’”-- “’...a desire for the muted, the minimal, the sparse...’ Over the past 15 years, ‘what we have seen is a move from the yellow end of the spectrum to the cooler one – from beige, to greige’, amounting to what Fox calls ‘a desaturating effect’ across culture.” (Context: British art historian James Fox, author of The World According to Colour.)

As for the Sims community? Well... I personally associate the greige trend with permapaywallers and even well-known early access (but contraversial) creators following it excessively, leading popular builders to make lots based almost entirely around this greige luxe nightmare. In addition to cultural baggage, it’s now got community baggage heaped on, and I expect that’s what’s led to the visceral reaction we’re seeing. Basically in the Sims community, greige luxe is a whole thing associated now with appropriated styles that have been watered down, commodified, and associated with “upper class refinement”, especially to the detriment of variety and vitality.

The article does also point out that as society has become more and more polarized, the trend has grown, “...[s]ince the mid-2010s especially, people have sought not to be energized by their homes – but soothed.” And yeah, that tracks-- people want calm, want simple. And that’s okay! I myself genuinely like soothing rooms, color schemes that are softer--neutrals and pastels and washed-out rustica with a soft pop of color here and there. Absolutely lovely.

I also think there’s merit to wanting something more uplifting, and the article references things like recent tentative trends toward more color, like interior designs leaning for warmer tones, red dining rooms coming back into vogue, and even Apple’s more colorful line of products: “It suggests that post-pandemic people are prioritising not serenity in their homes, but joy.”

To bring it all back home: Yeah, like what you like. Just please try to understand that trend fatigue and changing times can and will lead people to yearn for something different, and it never hurts to branch out into new palettes and decor styles. While I understand the “mass appeal” of simple neutral colors and sleek styles, my own personal happiness needs a bit more levity, more vitality, lest I feel washed out and uninspired.

(I do recommend reading the article; it isn’t an actual indictment of greige, but rather a discussion illustrating opinions both for and against and the history of the “neutral” trend.)

Further suggested reading: How Are Color Trends Decided? Article from DraperyStreet in 2017, & Color Trend Predictions for 2023, from LuxeSource in 2022, & Greige, the Color That’s Taking Over Pinterest, from Business Insider in 2015.

#greige #color theory #fashion trends #sims 4 #sims community #feel free to rb if you want #I know it's biased I'm not pretending it isn't #but I hope this can bring a little perspective to the whole discussion