#Cheerie Lane

[haybug1]

Last Minute Holiday Treats for Your Favorite Foodie

We are down to the wire, so if you are still searching for the perfect Christmas present for your sweetie, time is ticking. If your loved one is a fan of sauces and spices, little jars and bottles of flavorful jams, jellies, or oils to enhance the taste of your favorite meals, or a lover of big baskets of foodie fun, here are a few tips sure to bring delight to your sweetheart’s Christmas…

[norrizzandpia]

Let Me Help (OP81)

Summary: She’s got a math test the next day and unfortunately, she can’t do math. However, her boyfriend can.

Warnings: PURE FLUFF 👹👹👹👹, me being uneducated abt the British schooling system (PLZ FORGIVE ME IF I GET ANYTHING WRONG I KNOW THERE ARE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN THE AMERICAN AND BRITISH ACADEMIC SYSTEMS)

Note: i want a bf to tutor me math wtf bitch 😐

As she sat in the University of London’s library, staring at the problem on her laptop, Y/n was on the verge of tears.

She had been trying to study for four hours, but she was quickly realizing she had absolutely no idea what was going on in the class. No amount of step-by-step videos or lecture notes could help remedy the confusion she was suffering from. Her grade relied on this test and if she failed, she wasn’t too keen on retaking the course.

Nevertheless, she knew if she continued to sit and stare, her heart rate would accelerate even more and her watery eyes would turn into full on sobs. So, she excused herself, packing up her backpack and making a swift path toward the bathroom. Once settled behind the door, she let the tears fall and the anxiety consume her.

As if the world wanted to hurt her more, her crucial moment was ruined as her phone began to ring. Her sweet boyfriend’s face stared back at her as she contemplated answering the call or not. If she didn’t, he would most likely call her again, and if she did, he would be able to notice the way her voice wavered with self-doubt immediately.

For whatever reason, she answered the call. She didn’t say anything, waiting for him to start the conversation, as she stared at the wall in front of her and tried to calm herself down.

“Baby! How’s studying going? I was thinking we could get food because I’m sure you haven’t taken a proper break yet.” His cheery voice met her ears and while that tone usually brought air back into her lungs, it pushed her over the edge this time.

Silence on the other end of the phone as she cried into the speaker and Oscar tried to figure out what had her so distraught.

“What’s wrong, my love?” He questioned, trying to comfort her sorrows as he ran around his apartment and grabbed his things, already on his way to help her.

She tried to speak, but the words never came out, sobs replacing any kind of sentence.

He continued to speak, knowing his voice was the only thing that could really help her as he sped to the library.

“It’s okay, Y/n.” He urged, changing lanes and turning abruptly which granted a loud honking behind him from a frustrated driver.

She shook her head as she said, “It’s not, Osc. I don’t understand anything. I haven’t done anything these past few hours. I’m going to fail this test, and then I’m not going to pass this year, and then I’m going to fail out of college, and never get a job or provide for myself in anyway.”

He breathed out. Her way of jumping to conclusions and overthinking always gave her a problem, a major obstacle Oscar was so determined to help her through. Any inconvenience and she was worrying over what would happen next.

“Woah, woah, woah. Baby, slow down. None of that is going to happen. This is about your math test? You don’t understand the material?” He said softly.

“Yeah,” She whispered into the speaker.

He nodded, “Okay, well, how about this: I’ll come to the library and help you through the problems. You know math’s one of my strongest subjects. I can do this for you. Let me help you, baby.”

“But, Osc, aren’t you hungry? You just said you wanted to get food.” She said, trying to stop him from seeing her in this state.

“Baby, food can wait. We can get food after.” He smiled to himself as he pulled into the parking lot and got out.

“It’s going to take all night for me to understand this, Osc.” She stressed.

He shrugged, “Well, then I’ll get us food and we can eat while we study.”

She shook her head, “No, Oscar.”

He stopped in his steps, staring at the building as he sensed her overwhelming anxiety over his proposition.

“What’s wrong with me helping you, Y/n? That’s what I’m here for.” His eyebrows scrunched together, confusion and concentration over her next answer.

Her small voice bled through his phone and met his ears in a broken whisper, “I don’t want you to think I’m stupid.”

His heart squeezed in his chest, “Y/n, I do not and will never think you are stupid. Just because math was easy for me doesn’t mean it was easy for everyone else and that’s how it should be. Everybody struggles with math. There’s a reason why the majority of the world hates it. Trust me, baby, you are one of the smartest people I know.”

After a beat of silence and when he wasn’t certain if she would respond, Oscar tried again, “Let me help you, Y/n. I want to help you because I love you.”

Her cheeks blushed even in the intensity of the moment. The warmness she felt spread throughout her body moved her to say, “Okay, fine.”

“Good because I’m already here.”

—

Y/n’s eyes lit up, “Oh, so x is 2?!”

Nodding, Oscar rubbed his hand lightly up and down her back, “Exactly, my love. See? You’ve got this, smart girl.”

Her blushing had him chuckling, but her shyness didn’t stop him from kissing her temple.

“Okay, I think I understand this then.” She muttered, a big smile on her face as she looked at the time and realized it was still early enough that they could find a food place open.

“Still wanna get food?” She inquired, her body falling into his chest as they sat back on the wooden chairs. It was completely quiet and empty in the building, only a few students lingering. Because of their position in the very corner, their privacy was ensured, something they both were grateful for.

Oscar nodded, his hand coming up to tangle in her hair and nudge her face toward his. He kissed her softly, whispering sweet nothings when they broke apart. He was so proud of her and the fact that she had doubted herself as hard as she had didn’t sit right with him.

“You’re so incredibly smart, baby.” He said against her lips as he tilted his head to the other side, going in for another.

Their lips continued to tenderly meet, but every time he broke away, he would say something he loved about her.

“You never back down from a challenge. I love how determined you are.”

Kiss, Kiss

“Even when you fall, you always push yourself to get back up again. I love how resilient you are.”

Kiss, Kiss

“You’re so loving. I love the way you love me.”

Kiss, Kiss

“As we saw tonight, you’re so intelligent and knowledgeable. Even though you might not believe it yourself right now, you are so incredibly brilliant. I love how you never dumb yourself down for anyone. I love how confident you are to be yourself.”

He went in for another touch of their lips, but her giggling made it slightly impossible.

“Oscar, you’re so sappy.” She whispered, faces centimeters away from each other.

All he could do was smile down at her and whisper as his lips brushed against hers, “I just love you so much and I hate to see you doubt yourself. You’ve got this in the bag, Y/n. Sometimes teachers just don’t teach well and that isn’t your fault. Look at how fast it took you to learn it when someone actually sat down to introduce it to you! Two hours, baby! A whole unit in two hours! That’s impressive, baby, and you know it.”

She pulled back to lean against her chair, smile illuminating the room, “What would I do without you?”

He scoffed, “You would be perfectly fine. It’s me without you that you should be worried about.”

“Well, I’m not worried about it because I don’t plan on ever leaving.”

Kissing swiftly once more, his hand laid gently on the side of her neck, “Me neither.”

The two stayed like that for a few minutes until his stomach started grumbling and she was reminded of her earlier question.

“Food?”

He was already halfway out of the building, “Always.”

[wosoluver]

There's a place for you hc

Part 1

Claudia Pina Masterlist

Patri Guijarro Masterlist

Little moments

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Vicky! Come back here!" you yelled running after the younger girl, that as usual made everything in her power to have fun annoying , not only you, but the whole team. "That's not funny!"

But before you can mutter another word, Patri trips her, making Vicky fall hard, face first into the grass, dropping your phone.

"Be careful, Alexia will kill us if she gets injured!" you say hitting the back of her head playfully.

"A 'thank you' would've been nice!" she follows, looking up to you.

"Thank you, my knight in shining armor for saving the day once again!" you say mocking her a little.

"Oh just kiss already!" says Cata from her spot, sitting next to her friend on the ground, while Pina looks amusingly at the scene. And at the constant bickering between you two.

"Don't start giving Y/N ideas!" said Lucy.

"You know she'll take them!" completed Ona.

You only shook your head laughing as you walked away not entirely denying it.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Bon dia, meus amors!" you say coming into the gym to start the workout for the day.

You noticed that Claudia, usually playful and cheery looked a bit tired and not in the mood at all to be there.

"Hey, anything up with Clau?" you said coming to do some pushups next to Patri.

"Uhm not really, she's been like this all morning. Almost got attacked for asking if she wanted a bit of cinnamon on her coffee!"

"Who even puts cinnamon on coffee?" you gave her a disgusted face.

"She does! Well, sometimes."

You decided to follow the girl into the locker room after you were done.

Claudia was taken by surprise when you hugged her, sitting next to her. She looked up at you, questioning silently.

"You look like you need a hug." giving her a small kiss on her temple. "I can get you a warm towel you can use as a heat pad, if you want?"

"How'd you know?"

"We have a similar menstrual cycle, and I've heard Guijarro almost lost her head this morning. And honestly that's exactly what I feel like doing, when I'm on my PMS."

"Thank you." she said as you got up to get what she needed.

Jana shook her head wondering when would you guys ever move out of the friend zone.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"You, Cata, Salma, Paredes and Ona with me." said Patri pointing at you, picking out her team for the day's training.

"Not again!" you said with a groan. "Alexia please! I want to be in the winning team at least once in my life!" you said looking at the older woman who was captain of the other team, adding a small laugh at the end.

"Maybe if I didn't insist on picking you as a defender every time, we wouldn't be losing!" Guijarro rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"It was just a joke," you put your hands up in defense. "I love doing charity work." you said looking at the others in the group. "No offense guys."

They laughed along, knowing you just wanted to spite Patri.

"Since you're being so selfless today, can you please manage to stop Pina's attacks?" she says back with a clever smirk.

You only passed her the ball while sticking out your tongue. And she remembers wishing she could have you doing that in between her legs.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

You guys got ready to play yet another clássico. The superiority of Barça was already proven, but it was still a lot of fun work, for you to deny them goals, and for your teammates to get the ball past Misa, as many times as possible.

You greeted your rivals as the game was set to begin. The game had been heated as usual, a lot of fouls committed, and by the second half you had already received a yellow card, a few substitutions were made by the 65' minute mark, and Pina joined the game.

You tried your best to keep it in your lane, but you didn't mind dabbling into other positions, so when you had the chance to cross a ball to Claudia, you did and she managed to score beautifully, after a solo play.

You ran along to hug her and celebrate. You had been in a group hug, when she interlaced her fingers around your head pulling your forehead to hers, giving you a slight nod. Sharing a sweet moment, blending your beads of sweat together.

Pulling apart you noticed Patri holding onto the both of you with a big proud smile.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Can't wait for the day to be over." you sighed disappointed.

Today had been a tough one. It seemed like every other play you tried to complete failed, your passes weren't assertive enough and you held yourself to high standards and maybe too high for your own good.

Having a bad day felt like the end of your career, ignoring completely the fact that you were a human being and that lows happen.

"Can't take another ten minutes huh?" teased Patri.

"Stop it." you said, brow raised warningly at her. It wasn't like you to cut the jokes short.

"You look stressed." changing into a concerned tone.

"I am." you said barely above a whisper. You weren't one to talk about how you felt, not when it came to your unhealthy relationship with work.

She only nodded her head, putting her phone on her pocket.

"Hold this?" she said handing you her water bottle. "Okay, hop on."

"Why?"

"I'm piggybacking you to the locker room." you two shared a moment of silence as you gave in. Feeling thankful for that small favor, from her.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Lovely anon, thank you for this idea! I love it so much, I just don't want to give away the plot yet! 🤭 that's the only reason why I haven't attached to your request.

Already have three parts planned for this!

Good to be back! 🩷

don't forget to like and share!

[angelicguy]

all the toons of toonville USA quickly gathered for my funeral. this was the first death that toonville had ever had within its borders, so the processions were brief and crass. many of them did not know what had happened to me, and arrived jovial with gifts and favors to share with one another.

a whole line of red and blue convertibles filled the one lane street that led to my body. since everyone in town knew each other, they engaged in bright lively conversation about all the sweet memories they had of me. my birthday, my bris, my several rushed visits to the toon hospital were all discussed among the townsfolk who shared their popping candies and hot sodas that they had prepared for the celebration.

Cowboy Frito and Juliet Juniper (one of toonvilles hottest couples) brought a boquet of my favorite treats in apparent memory of me. Dr Lollipop and his beau Beauty Bee were especially excited to witness my body, flayed and broken, as they had never seen one before. Fashionista Frida Frizzlemeister was dressed from head to toe in the most dazzling outfit she had, with a black and white photograph of my own head featured as the centerpiece to her famously glitzy bouquet.

gathered in thousands of seats surrounding my thick, red, plastic coffin, the show was finally on the road. despite being delayed a half hour (the felt arms of the pallbearer made it difficult to actually get the dang thing near my ready grave!), the mood was light, as everyone in attendance were best friends. scattered lines of conversation quickly concluded as Pastor Paisley cleared his throat to begin his eulogy- at least he tried! pranks were all the rage in toonville, and who else but Scoots McBuzz would spit a hot wad of greasegum right at him. Paisley, experienced from his many sunday school classes over the years, grabbed his toupee and ducked down-causing the gum to stick right onto my fisher price brand tomb.

a long pause filled the air, followed by bright laughter at such a farce. in fact, all of toonville decided to cover my final resting place in bits of chewed paper, bottlecaps, smile stickers (the lowest form of their complex currency) and all kinds of knick knacks while hollering with laughter. and what could cap off such a good time like a hearty meal? Chef Al LaRonge had prepared a veritable feast for the hungry attendees, who stuffed their mouths with gooey, cheesy pizza, hot pepper patties and classic peanut butter chocolate superbars.

as the sun set, Mayor Megamouth of toonville declared their first funeral a complete success and thanked everyone for being a part of such a touching event. "he knew every one of you, and would have loved to know he caused such a record turnout among the toontopians!" after cheery "hip, hip, hooray!" and a final goodbye towards my flesh, the now urine-soaked coffin was marched straight into the freshly built mausoleum, the only gravesite to be found in the brand new toonville boneyard.

given the limited use of the land, it was eventually folded into the soda treatment plant. over time, my final resting place became stained with the colors and smell of sarsaparilla, caramel, and beetroot. the foundation eventually buckled beneath the sagging heft of the pop-drenched wood that surrounded my now bleached bones on the fourth of july, the sounds of creaking and splintering masked underneath the no-expenses-spared fireworks show. shapes of cakes and pies filled the air as my remains were carried out to the stinking sea.

[chaotickryptonitetree]

grant me easiness and i'll give you everything (it's only fair) | jeremy swayman

what I feel about him is alarming and frighting and yap yap yap. hope you like!

Whoever claimed to enjoy airports had clearly never been an Uber driver. 

Sure; the money was significantly better than a normal ride—but the traffic? And the poor temperament? And the confusing lanes? It made you question if it was even worth the money. 

But there were bills to pay, so you added tonight to the list of nights you ended up at the rideshare terminal of the airport. 

You knew by now that flights usually got in on the 10s (7:10, 8:10, etc), so people would have collected their luggage and made their way to ride shares by the 35s (give or take). Glancing at the dash cam, you read 9:32. As if on cue, your phone pinged with a few alerts. 

Typically, you’d choose the one that offered the most money. But it had been a long night, with a lot of rides, and had made enough to finish a bit early. So you picked the one that would put you closest to home. And it happened to be Jeremy, who wanted to end up at a brownstone around 7 minutes from your building. 

And you waited. 

Just for a minute or two before a knock on the back window stirred you from completely zoning out. Instinctively, you unlocked the car and a body slid into the back seat. 

“Jeremy?” You confirmed, not bothering to look back. 

“How do you know that?” A cheery voice forced your hand, made you make eye contact with him in the mirror. Mistake. 

“Are you Jeremy or not?” You were paid to drive, not indulge lazy jokes. Still, his kind eyes didn’t waver. 

“Just messin,” he looked out the window and mockingly placed a light touch to the window. Despite yourself, you tracked the movement, watching his hands (his large, large hands). Mistake. “Driver, take me home.” He sighed a wistful sigh, and even though you didn’t want to, a small smile found its way to your face. Putting on the turn signal, you merged into the departure lane and turned up the stereo. 

Checking your blindspot, you pulled onto the freeway—traffic was awful so it would be a long ride despite the short mileage. 

“Temperature okay?” You asked politely, following your script. 

“Just right!” You could hear the smile in his voice, even though you refused to look at him again. 

“Music alright?” 

“My favorite!” You raised an eyebrow at his response—top 40 radio was no one’s favorite. But that was your last question that usually made riders feel heard enough to give 5 stars. Slightly relieved (as always), you settled in for the drive. 

Usually you spent the time working through a problem in your head, really getting into the whys and hows of something that was bothering you. One of your friends was being distant, so you started there. She had started this behavior about a month ago, so that could mean that—

“I flew in from Alaska,” that cheery voice interrupted your internal monologue completely. 

“That’s nice,” your reply was non-committal. You didn’t usually talk to riders that much. Didn’t plan on making it a habit. 

“Yup!” He popped the p sound. “I’m from there, and I was visiting my family. It was awesome—I really miss them when I’m here for a long time.” 

“Nice.” You were out of practice making small talk with a new person (to put it lightly). He just nodded—the only indication being the sound of fabric moving around his neck as he did so. 

“So, where are you from?” He leaned forward in his seat, as if genuinely interested—as if knowing where this stranger grew up was a seriously important part of his night. 

“I don’t have to talk to riders just because,” you cringed at how mean you sounded. He didn’t even deflate a little, just leaned back and laughed a slightly weird laugh. 

“Fair enough,” his tone made you wonder if he was always this happy, this unphased. 

And then the music filled the space as much as your stale air freshener did—even if the air was tinged with a bit of guilt on your part. 

“I can feel you looking at me,” your eyes darted to him again in the mirror. Brown eyes forgiving and kind and very, very cute. 

“Not tryna hide it.” It could’ve been taken as flirting, but you had the impression that he was just like this with everyone. Still, it warmed your cheeks just a little bit. “I’ve just never had such a pretty Uber driver,” and then a moment later, “well, a pretty one that’s my age, I mean.” 

You laughed, despite yourself. “Pining after older women are ya?” He smiled easily, and it definitely was for him—easy. 

“Look at this face and tell me I’m not a cougar's dream,” he laughed loudly. You didn’t look back for safety reasons (and convinced yourself that was the only reason). He leaned forward again. “I like it though,” his words felt like an admission, even if he didn’t lower his voice. Everything about him just felt—genuine? In a way that made every breath feel like a secret. “Makes me feel like I have a hot girlfriend who likes me enough to pick me up at the airport.” 

You scoffed. If he wanted a hot girlfriend, it definitely wouldn’t be hard—not with his easy charm and pretty face. “I’m only here because I’m being paid.” You hesitated. “And there’s no way you don’t have someone who likes you enough to brave the traffic.” 

You could sense his delight through your headrest. “Oh yeah I do,” he looked out the window again, “I have the best friends in the entire world. They were just busy tonight.” He sighed as if the idea of his friends was as good as having them in the seat next to him. It was quiet for a moment. “But no girlfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“I wasn’t asking,” your tone was blunt, but you couldn’t help but smile. He laughed his weird, goofy laugh.

“Call me a romantic,” he addressed you by name—something you typically didn’t like from patrons in your backseat—but it felt different with him. “But I want that—someone who wants to be the first person to see you when you get back, who can’t even wait to kiss you even if it’s in front of a whole terminal.” 

“Sounds like you’ve been watching too many rom coms,” but that suddenly felt unkind to such a gentle man, so then a moment later, “I hope you find that.” 

“I will,” he seemed absolutely sure. “Oh shoot,” he raised his fists to the sky mockingly. “My phone died. Curses!” 

“I have a charger,” you looked around for the cord while still keeping an eye on the road. He stayed quiet for a moment, considering. 

“No, I have an android,” he quickly put his phone in his front pocket, eyes squinting with trouble. Trouble that made you think that he definitely didn’t have an android. “Oh wait! I have an idea!” He completely over-sold his facial expressions, making you question where he was going with this little scheme. 

“And what would that be?” your tone was dry, eyes still on the road as you took the exit off the freeway, only a few minutes from his destination. 

“So I can give you your rightfully earned tip!” He reasoned, “you can give me your phone number so I can send you money once I get my phone charged.” You could feel his hopeful gaze on you, like his plan was the most logical course of action ever spoken. 

Logistically, it made no sense. You could tip an Uber days after your ride. “And what—you’ll just remember my number until then?” For some reason that was the first question you asked.

He nodded, serious as you’d seen him. “Of course,” he said incredulously, “I remember important stuff.” 

And it didn’t make any sense. And you could’ve said no. And this was probably against some sort of employer code. And he was definitely this charming with everyone. But he looked so endearing and hopeful and there was something very good about him. Something right. 

So you rattled off your number, and he mouthed each number after you said it. And you believed him that he would remember it. 

And you believed him as he opened the door to leave, wishing you a good night. And you believed him as he waved from the top step. And as he opened the door and turned around for one more look, mouthing goodbye. 

Despite yourself, you believed him. 

…

Your bed was heaven after a long stint in the car. Practically asleep before your head hit the covers, a notification sounded from your phone. 

A message from an unrecognized number was the last thing you saw before sleep. 

From: unknown 

Sent $50 

And then a moment later, after you saved his contact. 

From: Jeremy 

Any interest in meeting me at Dunkin on Tuesday morning? 

You went to sleep smiling. He remembered. 

…

You agreed to meet him early—you typically liked to start driving before 11 and he had morning skate. 

The sun had just risen as you walked to a Dunkin about halfway between you and him, bundled up in a puffer jacket and a toque. The bell jingled above the door as you entered, blowing warm air into your hands. It was freezing out. 

You didn’t even have time to glance around and look for him before a tall, broad body in a black coat walked up to you and held out his arms for a hug. And then you weren’t freezing anymore. Not even a little bit. 

He released you with a smile, linking your arms together and pulling you into line. “What do you usually get?” You asked, convincing yourself that you certainly were not leaning into his side. Definitely not. 

He peered down at you, tucked into his side, nose red from the cold. “Whatever looks good,” he admitted, “usually the thing with the most cream and sugar.” 

You laughed—even if you didn’t really know him, the idea that he didn’t have an order, that he just let himself enjoy whatever he wanted (even if it had a ton of sugar), that seemed very him. 

“I’ll get that too,” you definitely snuggled into his side more, but maybe it was so you didn’t have to face his genuine smile so head on. Maybe? 

And so he ordered for you both, but not before complimenting the teenage cashier’s pride pin and asking what his favorite donut was. 

“Dunno,” the kid had braces and posture that seemed to shrink in on itself, and was clearly not used to anything beyond what can I get for you, “sprinkle looks pretty good today.” 

“Then two of those too,” he put the spare change (and a five) in the glass tip jar. “Thanks brother,” he put out his knuckles for a fist bump. The kid tapped his fist lightly to Jeremy’s, completely won over. 

Like a puppy, he quickly found something else to entertain himself with while you waited. “We almost have matching jackets!” He gestured to his black north face and your navy one. You pulled a face—how could he find such delight in everything? 

“I guess?” You pinched your face together. He didn’t mind. 

“Very couple-y of us,” he put his hands up at the look you shot him. “I had to say it,” He shook his head like it was obvious. And it was so cute you didn’t give him a hard time about it. 

“Thanks for paying,” you directed the subject elsewhere, “you didn’t have to do that.” He shrugged, eyes fixed on your drinks as the barista (are they called baristas at Dunkin??) set down two identically light and sweet drinks. 

“My pleasure,” he grabbed the bag with two sprinkle donuts inside. 

“I’ll send you my share,” you made to grab your phone from your pocket. His hand over yours stilled the movement entirely, warmth emanating from his palm. 

“You got it next time,” he shrugged—like obviously there would be a next time. And you believed him, hand now interlaced with his. 

“I know it’s bad for me,” he groaned as he took a sip, “but it’s actually the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” A completely innocent line, but it felt dirty as he said it. Or maybe you were just losing it over how his thumb moved over yours. 

“Oh,” you responded quietly, taking a sip of yours. Total sugar bomb. “Well you’ll work it off anyways in practice I’m sure,” you fumbled over your words just a little bit. He seemed amused. “Like, looking at you, I’d never guess you have a sweet tooth,” you said, even though there was absolutely no reason to keep talking. He titled his head in delight. “Because you look totally in shape—you look, great. Yeah.” A true example of vocal mastery was on display tonight. 

He took a bite of donut, his white teeth a sight so intimate it made you blush. He hummed while chewing, nodding. “Oh yeah? I’m not sure why you mean…should we keep talking about how hot I look?” He joked before pulling a very embarrassed you into his side and out into the chilly air. It didn’t feel as cold with his hand around yours though. 

You laughed an embarrassed laugh. “Easy, you big dope, I was trying to be nice.” He laughed into your toque, head on top of yours. 

“I know, I know.” And then he went into talking about how he wasn’t a fan of Dunkin before moving to New England and now he was addicted. And you just listened, toasty from humiliation and content as he walked you home, hand covering yours. 

…

You offered to pick him up from practice later in the week (he had asked you to come to a home game, but you weren’t quite ready for that yet). He was right on time, waving an animated wave as he walked out the door with a few teammates. 

You waved back (a bit more timid in the presence of his friends), and turned to que up your next song. He knocked lightly on the window, and you rolled it down. He was bent over, face in the window as he glanced toward the backseat. 

“Want to meet my friends?” He asked politely, clearly excited. 

You hesitated, which made him continue. “No pressure at all. If you don’t want to, I can hop in the backseat and we can pretend you’re my Uber driver again,” he smiled a grin that was so genuinely happy it made you less nervous. You turned off the engine. 

“No way,” you unbuckled your seatbelt. “I wanna meet ‘em.” You opened the door and shut it softly behind you, wrapping your arms around yourself instinctively. He pumped his fist. 

“Let’s go!” He seemed overjoyed. It was quite possibly the sweetest reaction to such a nothing event. You rolled your eyes, but let him pull you in front of him, large hands rested on your shoulders, steering you to face his two teammates. 

He introduced you to them both (they were sweet, but there was something on their face that made you unsure if they were making fun of you or jeremy–or both–or no one). But listening to them banter back and forth while you stood pressed to the front of him made you realize that they just joked around like that. 

Jeremy was usually the punchline–but he didn’t mind. He was easy to laugh, easier to smile, and made a point of pulling you impossibly closer to him. If his friends noticed, they didn’t say anything. 

But then the fact that they didn’t say anything made you wonder just how many people he had introduced to his friends. Maybe they were having a non-reaction because they were so used to it? You stiffened slightly under his hands. 

And he must’ve felt it, because he placed a feather-light kiss to your hair–which did pull a reaction from his boys. 

“If you’re around on new year’s, we’re throwing something and you are obviously invited,” one of them nodded towards you, eyes a little wide. 

“Obviously?” You questioned, but felt far more comfortable than a moment ago. The taller one laughed, eyes flickering to Jeremy’s briefly. 

“Obviously,” he confirmed. “You think this is our first time hearing about you?” He shook his head, clapping the shorter one on the back. “Sway here wouldn’t shut up about you. If you didn’t respond to his text he was going to make us call every Uber in Boston until one of us got you as a driver.” 

You hit his chest as you turned around. “You goof,” you meant to say–but the words died on your tongue when your eyes met his–so full of genuine enjoyment and content that it warmed you from the inside out. You turned toward them again, waving goodbye. 

“I’ll see you on new year’s then.” 

“Nice to meet you,” they parroted, smirking at Jeremy. “We’ll see ya sway.” He waved and let you pull him into the passenger seat. 

“I like your friends,” you rubbed your hands together and blew on them. He smiled a radiant smile. 

“You’ll love the rest of the guys,” he pulled your free hand into his lap, both palms wrapped around it, warming you right up. You drove the rest of the way home with one hand so he could keep a grip on you. He gave you a play-by-play of practice (which drills he did best on, what made him laugh the most, what he wanted to focus on for the next game), only coming up for air once. 

“I really like you,” he said earnestly, as matter-of-factly as when he spoke about drills. It made you shake your head. 

“Obviously I like you too,” the words felt good to be out–like you didn’t realize how true they were until you said them aloud. 

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “Obviously?” You could feel his smile on the back of your hand. 

“It's, like, impossible not to.” You pulled in front of his building, putting the car in park. Meaning to pull your hand back from him–a little embarrassed–but didn’t even make it over the console before he crushed you in a hug over the center console. The steering wheel dug into your side, nose crushed into his chest, hair static-y all over his puffer. But you couldn’t bring yourself to back out of it–arms rubbing circles against the back of his coat. 

You had no idea how much time had passed when he pulled back, grabbed his bag from the trunk, and walked up to the front door. It was probably the longest he had gone without talking around you. But you didn’t mind. You liked him when he talked, when he didn’t, when he smiled, when he breathed. 

You smiled all the way home. 

…

You agreed to walk to the new year’s eve party together. It was just far enough away for you to prepare to meet more of the people from his world and hear about his last couple road games. Just hearing him talk made your nerves melt away. 

He insisted on meeting on your doorstep, however, even though it added 10 minutes to his walk. He texted when he was on his way.

From: J

Be there in a few!

From: you

You need my address?

From: J

Course not.

And then.

I remember important stuff.

You went in for a hug as you opened the door–a new part of your routine. 

“Hey,” your greeting was muffled into his puffer. His navy?? Puffer. One identical to your own. You thumbed the material and glanced up at him. “Nice coat?” You raised your eyebrows. 

He laughed loudly, tipping his head back. “I wanted to match.” The way he said it made it feel obvious–tone like a noncommittal shrug. Like why wouldn’t he want to match? 

The ease of the gesture was lovely. He was lovely. “Well then,” you linked your arm with his, setting off down the stairs and onto the sidewalk, “it is an honor to match with you tonight.” 

He let a grin brighten his face. “You smell really good,” he breathed into your hair. “Like you always do. And I like the glitter you have–” He ghosted a thumb over your brow bone, “here.” 

And the loveliness haunted you the entire walk over, conversation easy and light. He was so open, so kind, in a way that eased openness and kindness from you as well. 

So the night was much better than you had expected. It felt natural to meet his friends, his teammates, their wives, their kids. It didn’t feel like being thrust into a brand new world. It just felt like natural–like getting another piece of Jeremy was a privilege. 

And you didn’t feel out of place with how enamored you were with him–everyone here clearly was. He was the heartbeat of this group of people–and you felt lucky to watch him light up the room. And a little part of you felt proud that you were here with him. 

The one who everyone wanted to be around–he wanted to be here with you. 

“You’re too nice for him,” another new face laughed as he clapped Jeremy on the shoulder, looking down at you. 

“Too nice?” You glanced at the palm resting over your stomach. Possibly the most gentle, kind touch you had experienced. How could anyone be too nice for that? “For him?” Your voice raised with confusion.

The young guy in front of you raised his eyebrows at the man behind you. “He didn’t tell you?” His smile was all trouble. “Our boy Sway likes to be a little roughed up,” he laughed at your blush, hidden by you turning around to gape at Jeremy. To wait for a rebuttal.

But it never came. He just laughed good-naturedly and hugged you into his chest. “Hey now, don’t scare her away!” He looked down at you, squeezed tight against his chest. “Lucky to have her here at all.” His smile was just for you. 

And so you smiled and let yourself half forget about that comment. Met some more people. Drank some more wine. Smiled a lot. 

But you couldn’t forget it entirely. 

Some time later, he beckoned you over to where he sat on the couch. You finished up chatting with some of the women and made your way to him. 

“Hey,” you stood in between his legs before he pulled you down to sit on one of his thighs with a thud. You felt him sigh into your hair as you leaned back so your head rested on his shoulder, hands reaching around the play with his fingers. He was solid and warm. 

“Hey,” if you had to put money on it–you’d bet he was smiling. “Thanks for being a champ about this–they can be a lot.” You traced a nail over the outline of his hand. “But they’re important to me, so it makes me happy that they get to meet you.” 

As intimate as a secret, spoken lowly in your ear. As secure as a fact, warming your chest. 

“I like them,” you thought for a moment. “Even if they think I’m too nice.” 

He rolled his eyes. “They’re just giving you a hard time. It’s a long story.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “You can tell me if you want.” You could feel his chest rise and fall under your back.

“When I first signed, I showed up to practice all beat up once. Bruises, all that nonsense.” His eyes shone as he retold the story–like the emotions were just as fresh as they had been.  “Told everyone I walked into a doorway–or something stupid like that. In the locker room later, everyone saw the marks this girl had left all over me.” He indicated scratch marks over where you lay on his chest. “All on my back and my neck and stuff. Never heard the end of it–how doors are really fighting back now and all that.” You just listened. “So yeah, they give me a hard time about it. But it’s no big deal–I didn’t want them to scare you or anything. If you’re not into that, don’t worry.” 

He ducked his head into the crook of your shoulder, kissing behind your ear. You shivered, trying not to wiggle too much over his lap. Tilting your head towards him, you let your voice drop so only he could hear. “I’m into that.” His eyes went wide. “And I’m into you, so I can still be nice.” 

He gulped audibly, making you smirk. “Like, I can be nice and tell you that you’re so good.” His face was as serious as you’d seen him. “Makes me wonder if you’d be so good for me.” 

He nodded before he knew what he was nodding at, grip tight around you. “I would be.” His voice was clipped. “I’d be so good for you.” 

You nodded back, chest on fire. You believed him. 

You let your cheek rest against his sweater, eyes peering up at him–slightly flushed from the party and eyes a little tired. It had to be close to midnight. 

As if on cue, the countdown began from the tv. Every voice in the room chanted along…10, 9, 8…but you almost didn’t hear them. Too busy looking at Jeremy. 7, 6, 5. You turned so your legs swung off the couch, sideways in his lap. 

“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss,” he whispered, holding you upright against him. “Like a real one. Not just a friend or something.” 4, 3. You pulled him so close you could see the shine of his lip from his drink, feel the sweat on the back of his neck from his sweater. 

2. 1. “Glad to be your first or something,” you grinned into the kiss, teeth knocking against his. He laughed a breathy laugh into your mouth, free hand palming the back of your head. His chest rose and fell next to yours, making you pull back. 

“I’m so happy it’s you,” he admitted–probably the most embarrassed you’d seen him. You ran your hands through his hair, settling against his chest so he could put his chin atop your head.

You believed him.

...

happy new year! Love ya

[sgiandubh]

What choice is there for you to make? Caitriona is legally married to Tony. It's her choice not anyone else's. Sure you want to believe Sam and Caitriona secretly have something on, your belief is your choice. Her choice of partner is hers, and it's not Sam, really none of anyone else's concern or approval. Enjoy and celebrate your beliefs, but beliefs are not always rational nor true. No one on this subject knows the truth about Sam, the shippers, the gay onlys, the man whore-tellers, the SamSaviors. No one, which is the way he wants it. No one knows and no one will.

Dear Choice Anon,

Unlike many of your Mordor peers, I feel a half-baked effort towards questioning, in your submission that wants to be cheeky and smart. And is, instead, sophistic and predictable.

I was baking something, in the meanwhile. I always cook when I need to think carefully about something, from a distance. My hands are quite good at it and my brain is free.

And so, I thought. I thought about how you people always feel the urge to cross lanes and come here peddling your #silly wares. I thought about how you came here on a Sunday, Mother's Day on top, and how sad (empty?) life must feel for you. Instead of going out for coffee in town, smelling a rose, baking a cake, laughing around, cheering on your favorite team or hugging Mom, here you are. Battering a perfect unknown person's mailbox, for the sake of a woman who does not even know you exist and, most probably, does not even care. Same applies to S, by the way - but unlike her, he might probably care about you, provided you buy whatever he has to sell.

The Marriage Certificate argument is a fallacy and you know that very well. You grasp at a piece of paper, oblivious to the whole schizophrenic show the Happy Couple puts out there for everyone to see. I can understand that, Anon: you are a conformist, soothed by a black & white reality, even where and when it's plain to see things are anything but. You need reassurance and you hate anything that might reach out of your tiny box, even at the expense of your own critical sense. Congratulations, Anon: you are perfect fodder for all the demagogues out there and so, so easily fooled. I have more thoughts about it, but I am in a cheery enough mood and really unwilling to humiliate you further.

Unless you are S himself (hi? 🤣), his PR or his lawyer, you have no right to presume what he really wants or doesn't want, what he really intends to do and what his thoughts and feelings might be. On any given matter, from the trivial to the important. We can only guess and/or speculate, based on our own life experience, our own critical sense, our understanding of the world. And also based on many other things that are NEVER discussed publicly, which is the right way to do, if you really care about someone's private life. You see, unlike people on your side of the fence and no matter what the Original Troll always says, we never did anything of what you accuse us of. We never started flaming wars just to self inflate our importance (probably because we live rich, loving lives on our own). We never accosted their entourage and then blamed in on 'The Others', without ever substantiating those very serious accusations. And we never came to your lanes to send hate or sow doubt.

Do we make mistakes? Oh, aplenty. We are human, Anon. Come back when you are ready to ask yourself some real questions about all this charade. It is an honest, but almost rhetorical invitation. You won't, simply because you despise the very idea people could think differently and you never, ever wonder why. It would clash with your own fantasy. And this, this is something you will never be ready to face, Anon.

PS: despising the very idea people could think differently also clashes with the very idea of having a choice. The implications of your own shortcoming are much, much wider than this context. But that is not my problem, Anon. After all, you also have a choice to remain as you are, and who am I to hinder you?

[milkywaydrabbles]

Meeting the Haitani brothers in their clubs

A/N: literally no one asked for this but I am a firm believer the Haitani brothers are raveheads. Rindou is for sure a wook, while Ran stays in his progressive house lane. I could literally talk about them and their music taste for hours, writing a dissertation as we speak.

Haitani Rindou Artists inspo: ATLiens, Svdden Death, Rezz

⁍When you first met Rindou you were at one of his smaller clubs. Definitely an edm club, one that he owned for fun and not to push drugs or be a cover for any other illegal activity. He knew it was a silly club but it's one he often visited for the fun of it if he wasn't doing business. That's when he was his most casual. ⁍He was by the bar area, leaning by the rails of the elevated section and looking out to the sea of ravers. That's when he saw you. Across the masses, you were on one of the pillars that has some footing (not its intended purpose but you know what it worked). It let you be above the crowd for some air, really taking in the lights and visuals of the artist performing.  ⁍He’s seen it done before, not a new concept, so he let it be. Though his eyes lingered for a beat longer than normal of any other girls that frequented his club. For one, he hadn’t seen you before, a newcomer he assumed. But you were so comfortable in the scene it must have not been your first rave. Second, your attire might have matched his aesthetic in terms of rave gear than anyone else. All black, showing skin in a tasteful way, but paired with spikes and chains. Hot.  ⁍He watched you every now and again throughout the night, but not acting on anything. And then he saw you next weekend. And the weekend after that. And each time, no matter the artist, your aesthetic regularly stayed the same save for a jersey or pashmina that matched the artist. Each time you were heavily involved. Either fanning the crowd to give some air, trading kandi, hell even turning up in the pit.  ⁍The third time he saw you Rindou decided to say something. He got there early enough before the crowd started to form. You turned to him with a bright smile, and he thought just for a second you were too pure to be here.  ⁍You got to talking before it got too loud, and he learned you were new to the city, and you just found this club. He asked you your opinion, almost anxious on what you thought of his club. When you gushed over how amazing it was, he almost preened. ⁍Rindou wasn’t much of a smooth talker, didn’t really continue much conversation from there but he lingered, dancing and headbanging with you to each of the performers. You gave him a piece of kandi for the great night and wished him a safe trip home. ⁍He spoke to you again the weekend after that, and ultimately decided to just man up and ask for your number. You gladly gave it to him. Your hangouts eventually made it out of the club, now turning into breakfast dates, lunch dates, park dates.  ⁍Rindou over time confided in you, telling you that the club you frequented was his, and your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. He laughed in your face, immediately apologizing but it was too funny not to.  ⁍The two of you continued to see each other in and out of the rave scene, promise of this new found relationship blooming into something more.

Haitani Ran Artist inspo: Slushii, Dabin, Elephante

⊛Like his brother, Ran owns an edm club too, though a much different vibe. You were a bottle service girl at his club, and a diligent one at that. You’ve jumped in to help on nights you weren’t supposed to work, and even took on cleaning shifts if the rest of the bar was understaffed. ⊛All the bottle girls knew Ran, he liked to hire them personally to make sure they all fit the bill he was looking over (aka running background checks on them and making sure they were clean.) ⊛Every night he’d show up you greeted him with a cheery ‘good evening, Mr. Haitani!’ to which he responded with ‘you can always call me Ran, pretty girl.’ It ended with a giggle and a roll of the eyes, before heading off to your duties. ⊛You weren’t any different than the rest of them, not really, but he did notice you tended to get more tips than the rest and he was interested to know what you did. Maybe it was heavy flirting? Or maybe you ended up taking shots with the poor bastards and you milked them dry of their money that way? ⊛When he started watching you more, he noticed he was completely wrong. While the other girls tried to dance sexy with their tables you actively ended up singing all the words to the songs the performers would play and headbanged with them. That’s what got you more tips, you genuinely enjoyed the music. Huh.  ⊛At the end of the night while you cleaned up Ran came to find you and ask you about it. Oh boy, your face heated up so much you swore you could fry an egg on your forehead. You apologized for your behavior, stating that you ‘just really like the music, so working is really fun’.  ⊛Ran threw his head back and laughed, and asked you out on the spot. You paused, confused at the random offer and started to decline. That was your boss and you were pretty sure it was definitely against policy. ⊛But Ran was so pleasant and asked so pretty it was hard to say no. ⊛So you went on a date with him, thinking it would be one and done, and that it’d be short. Turns out, you had the best night of your life with him.  ⊛Every shift after that started the same, with your eager ‘good evening, Mr. Haitani’ his rebuttal ‘Call me Ran, pretty girl’, a giggle and smile.  ⊛And ended the same, Ran driving you home with a kiss and finally getting to hear you say ‘good night, Ran’.

[cherriqa]

+.*i get those goosebumps every time*.+

SUMMARY: he just cant shake the feeling that somebody knows... let alone his own wife..

NICK GOODE (1994) X FEM! READER

MASTERLIST : HERE

AUTH NOTE: aahhhdgfgy first fic!! based on the song goosebumps by Travis Scott 😍😍😍😍 (update, it’s been like 5 months since i started writing this.. i’m so sorry 😭😭🫶🫶)

"hello?" you ask, twirling the landline phone cord between your index and middle finger. "shit, sorry hun.." you notice the voice instantly, its your husband Nick. "sorry forr..?" you trail off, now curious. "um.. ill be home late again." his voice is low and laced with slight malice. "oh." is all you manage to say. you turn to look back in the dining room. your children are sitting happily at the table, eating spaghetti bowls.

"are you upset?" he questions, slightly nervous. "no! its fine.. ill put your food in the fridge then.." you mumble into the speaker. he sighs before speaking again. "listen, i gotta go but ill be back when you wake up. promise." he tries to sound as cheery as possible, but you can see right through the act. "okay, bye! i love you." you murmur with a small smile as the line clicks.

something is up, you can tell. you set the phone down before heading into the dining room and picking up your husbands plate. your daughter looks up at you, her curly pigtails bouncing as she swings her legs off the chair. “mommy… where’s daddy..?” she asks, her voice laced with worry. “baby, he’s fine.. he’s just caught up with work again.” you manage a smile. she nods before going back to eating.

about 4 hours later, you hear the door open and the familiar leather shoe footsteps. your husband in all his glory walks into the living room. “well hi there..” Nick says with a small grin. he walks over to you, sitting beside you on the sofa. “how was work..?” you ask, resting your head on his shoulder. he shrugs, “boring, as per usual.” the way he says it makes you giggle. “you’re sweaty, my love.” you kiss his cheek, making him smile again.

“ouch.” he jokes, standing up again. “i’ll go have a shower then.” you nod and watch as he turns around. “and by the way, could you find me that book.. um.. the one about criminology!” he recalls, to which you respond with a small “yup!” before you too, stand up.

you hear him walk up the stairs as you reach the bookshelf. as you look around, you spot a small knob out of the corner of your eye. you try to ignore it, thinking your vision is just playing tricks on you again. that is, until a passing train nearby causes the knob to rattle. you quirk your eyebrow, setting the newly found book down on the coffee table before inspecting the round knob closer.

as you get a better look, you realise that it belongs to a trapdoor that you happen to have never noticed. ‘strange..’ you think to yourself before turning it slowly. you’d think it’d be locked, considering you’ve never noticed it in your 8 years of living in your house. but it isn’t. the door slowly creaks open and the light from inside the living room shines into the small space.

upon further inspection, you spot a few candles, all of which definitely had been lit within the last few hours considering the faint smell of candle smoke. but also another thing worth noting, the two large stones with writing etched into them. one’s been fully covered, the second having almost just been started. you can only read the last 3 lines of the second stone.

RUBY LANE

THOMAS SLATER

RYAN TORRES

you make a face, weird that the last three shady side killer names are etched into.. wait.

what..?

[megalony]

Don't Leave Me

As promised, here is a new Jonah Hauer-King imagine for all you lovelies, I hope you like it. Any feedback or requests are always amazing, enjoy.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

@jonahhauer-kingg @melaninjoys​ @luna2034 @mystiqueprincess @fangirl-tothemax @musicistheway @wandamaximoffbae @notagreekgal28 @ellietalenfwlers

Masterlist

Summary: Jonah is on his way home when a car accident delays him a while. And he finds himself desperate to help the girl in the accident and make sure she's alright.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A steady beat drummed out against the steering wheel, matching in time with the tune playing quietly from the radio. As the daylight started to fade and the darkness drew in, he turned down the radio every so often until the tunes were soft and quiet in the background since his mind was so easily distracted.

He didn't always find driving calming and easy and distractions tended to make it worse.

The moon was a dusty, pale yellow with an outer white glow that looked very luminescent and eye-catching. There were a few stars poking through the layer of mist and the sky was a pale navy blue with streaks of purple and tints of red. Jonah loved looking at the evening sky because it looked so capturing and interesting.

He used to hate driving on the motorway, it always panicked him because everyone was driving so fast but now it felt normal. It didn’t feel like he was getting whiplash when he increased speed, it felt rather slow now that he had gotten used to it.

Drifting his eyes around the road, Jonah rubbed at his temple as he noticed his sliproad was coming up to get him back on the normal roads and not on the motorway anymore. He wasn’t too far from home now which was a relief because he couldn’t wait to put his feet up and just have a drink.

He was ready to go home.

His fingers hovered over the indicator at the side of the steering wheel but he didn't get chance to flick it on.

One fleeting, chancing look in his rear-view mirror drew his attention to a car that was flying up behind him, swerving between two lanes. The car was out of control. The driver wasn't breaking. He was going to slam into the back of Jonah's car. They were going to crash.

Jonah did the only thing he could think of. Without looking in his side mirrors or really thinking it through at all, he slammed his brakes on and swerved into the hard shoulder to his left. It was a small, grit covered lane for emergencies and this was definitely an emergency. Jonah would be crushed or run off the road if he didn't swerve into the safe lane on his left and it was all he could do. The front of his car spun towards the left, bumping into the barrier as he came to a sudden, jerking stop.

Every muscle in his body tensed, curse words flew past his lips and everything started to shake as ragged breaths passed his lips.

"No-"

Jonah jumped back in his seat as he watched the car speed past him in the lane he was just in. His eyes widened in terror when he watched the out of control car slam into the car that had been in front of Jonah.

The cherry coloured car propelled forward a few feet before swerving and spinning into the hard shoulder lane. The back end of the cheery car hit the metal barrier so harsh and fast that it smashed through and slanted the car part-way down the hill. It was by sheer luck that the car didn't roll off the hard shoulder and go down the ditch. It was wedged between the metal that was saving that poor driver from going into the water at the bottom of the ditch.

Was that Jonah's fault?

Would he of had time to flash his hazard lights to let that car in front know something was wrong? Should he have tried to warn them somehow? Shouldn't that of been Jonah who was almost falling down into the ditch?

He couldn't see where the out of control car had ended up. It seemed to be a mile ahead on the motorway but Jonah could see half the people were stopping and others were hurriedly shooting up the exit Jonah should have been on by now.

He didn’t know if someone had called the police or an ambulance or if the drivers needed any help. He guessed the people in the cherry car needed help, no one had made a move to get out yet and they needed to move. If the car jolted an inch, it would be in the ditch.

There was no way Jonah could try and drive home now. He had seen the accident. He would need to give a statement to the police, if he drove off now it would make him a bad person, just as bad as the people who weren't stopping to help.

When Jonah unsteadily climbed out of the car, his legs had gone to jelly and he had to lean heavily on the door and take a few seconds to catch his breath and calm down. He had never been in a car accident before. He was a good driver- not that he had done anything wrong tonight that had caused this crash, not really. He had never witnessed a crash like this before. What could he do to help?

He locked the car, stuffed the keys into his pocket along with his phone and jogged on numb legs down towards the cherry coloured Fiesta.

People further ahead on the road were starting to stop and check on the driver who had caused this mess but no one was coming Jonah's way.

Jonah rounded to the driver’s side. It took him a few moments to jiggle the door handle so the door finally opened, almost swinging off the hinges when it swung open with a creak that made him shiver. He bent the door as far open as it would manage and weaved behind it so he could lean over and see if the person needed any assistance.

Whoever was in here, Jonah wanted to tell them to get out. He didn't like how close the car was to the edge of the ditch. One wrong move and the car would be gone.

Turning her head slowly to the right, (Y/n) let out a shuddering breath at the stranger who managed to open the door. Her mind was coming back under her control now. As soon as something hit her car and it started to swerve, her mind blacked out and she couldn't see a thing. A sob burned against the back of her throat that felt like sandpaper and pain bolted through almost every nerve in her body.

Her eyes tried to focus on the mop of raven black curls that swished in front of her eyes as the stranger who had seemingly come to her rescue bent down on his knees. He had one hand holding onto her car door and the other was clamped around the roof of the car like he was trying to hold himself up.

He had a calming, somewhat sugary sweet smile and for a second or two, it distracted (Y/n) from why she was panicking.

"Hi there, love. I’m Jonah, can you tell me your name?" Jonah paced his words to let (Y/n) have a moment to process them and hear how calm and collected he was trying to be.

"(Y/n)… out, p-please get me out!" Her throat burned, her words came out croaked and weak but with an air of urgency that stunned Jonah.

(Y/n) didn’t know which area of pain to focus on or where exactly the pain was coming from because it was circulating everywhere. But she knew that she didn’t want to be in the car anymore. She could feel the smoke drifting around the car, seeping into her lungs and making it harder to breathe. She could feel that the right side of the car next to her legs was dented and the bonnet had been crushed and the metal was pushing towards her. She felt like she was becoming boxed into her car and she wanted out.

The seatbelt was cutting rather harshly into her exposed neck and chest near her collar bone and it was grating like a sharp knife slowly tearing through her skin. She wanted to be out of the car to feel a bit more at ease and safer. Sitting in a car wasn’t the best if it was stationary and still on the motorway which was dangerous as it was without her being in a car which was now a hazard.

"I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart. I don’t know what injuries you have, it’s best to wait for the paramedics, I think I saw someone calling them up ahead."

Jonah could see she was obviously distressed and didn’t want to stay where she was but now he had glanced at her injuries, all thoughts of telling her to get out vanished from his mind. He didn't want to be the one to move her. She could have damaged her spine or her neck or even her head and skull, moving her could disrupt any injuries and cause permanent damage. He didn't want to be the cause of any paralysis and he wasn't trained to get her out of a car with those sorts of injuries.

Basic medical first aid was the only thing Jonah could offer, along with a calming presence and a promise he wouldn't leave her in here alone until proper help arrived.

"Please,"

Her sob burned into Jonah's ears and he cringed, rolling his lips together at how desperate she sounded. He couldn't risk hurting her or making her injuries worse unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Not yet, let's wait for an ambulance to get you out safely, hm? But I won't leave you here alone, that's a promise."

"Okay," If he wasn't going to get her out, him staying beside her was at least a relief and his smile was as calming as it was charming.

"Let’s get that belt off you." Pushing himself up so he was leaning over her instead of on his knees at her side, Jonah tried his best not to touch her in case he hurt her. He didn't know if she had any internal injuries. All he could see were the external ones such as the cuts to her face from the inside of the windscreen shattering.

He rolled his lips into a thin smile and reached over (Y/n), trying to hold up his own weight. The belt came undone surprisingly easy and Jonah carefully pulled it back but it made him queasy to see the belt peel off her skin like a layer of skin ripping away. It revealed a slanted cut along her collar bone like it had burned into her skin, but thankfully it didn't look too deep.

Pulling back a little, Jonah started looking over (Y/n) to see what other injuries she had and how bad they were. He saw small cuts on her cheeks, one on her neck, her hands looked a bit scraped but when he looked closer he saw her right wrist looked damaged.

"I think you’ve broken your wrist, try not to move it for me." The complicated joint seemed to jut out on the left and it was beginning to swell too.

Pushing the almost deflated airbag out of the way, Jonah looked over (Y/n)’s other arm which seemed to have no damage. He locked eyes with her for a brief moment and he smiled to show her she was okay and he wasn’t going anywhere. He didn’t see any blood on her shirt which was a good sign but with the airbag now moved out of the way, he noticed a new problem.

There was a thin chunk of metal puncturing into her thigh, causing blood to pool around her navy blue leggings.

"Can I?" He questioned, referring to her leg. He didn’t really want to leave her bleeding out when he didn’t know how long the paramedics were going to take to arrive and the least he could do was take a look and see if he could help in any way.

"Hm,"

There was a tear in the material so Jonah slowly pulled at the thin cotton and ripped it further so he could see the damage. He held his breath in his lungs to calm himself down; the metal looked like it was rather deep into her leg and Jonah knew better than to even attempt to pull it out. If he moved the metal an inch he could worsen the bleeding or rip a muscle and if he took it out all the way, the blood flow would be a lot worse. The blood was seeping from the deep cut like a tap that was continuously spluttering the liquid everywhere. It was soaking into her leggings and creating a mass dampness around the wounded area.

"Okay… sweetheart, I need to stop the bleeding. Can you talk to me? Tell me what you were up to today or something about you while I fix this."

Jonah needed to stop the bleeding and the best way he could think to do that was to remove his belt and tie it around her leg above the wound. That way the blood would be restricted to her leg because even though the metal was stopping the blood loss from becoming worse it was still pouring out. He knew (Y/n) might become lightheaded and it would hurt so he thought talking might distract her and it would show him she wasn’t suddenly going to faint or fall unconscious.

"What's wrong with my-" (Y/n) cut herself off with a choked moan mixed with a cry when she saw the metal poking out of her thigh a little higher up from her knee. She pressed her head back into the headrest, feeling the urge to scream or try and move because she didn’t even realise that had happened. She didn’t feel the metal puncture through her leg, she simply thought it had gotten bashed and bruised like everywhere else on her body.

"Ssh, hey it’s alright. I’m gonna stop the bleeding and then the paramedics will sort this out for you, don’t worry. Come on, tell me about yourself or your day." Jonah’s voice was oddly soothing to (Y/n), he had one of those deep yet rhythmic voices that you could listen to about anything. It was a voice that you would constantly listen to without registering what was being said.

"I don't, um… I like t-to sing." (Y/n) licked her dry lips, trying to speak clearly though her throat and lips were both dry and felt tight.

It was the first thing that came to mind.

Something soft flooded Jonah's eyes while he stood up and snapped his belt free from the loops of his jeans. He prayed his jeans would stay where they were and wouldn't fall down now they were a bit loose on him without the belt.

He crouched back down beside (Y/n) whilst hoping some form of help would arrive soon to help them.

"I bet you have a beautiful voice. I quite like to sing too," Jonah pushed his knees into the bottom of the car while he carefully lifted up (Y/n)'s thigh, just an inch, so he could thread the end of his belt under her leg. He did his best not to disturb the metal. He made sure the belt was close to the wound but not touching it in any way.

(Y/n)'s eyes fluttered open and she looked down to see what Jonah was doing. It took her mind a few seconds longer than usual to process what he was doing and understand he was going to cut off her circulation to her leg.

When Jonah lifted his head to look at her, he winked in a way that sent (Y/n)'s stomach flooding with butterflies and his smile made her want to squirm and blush. She noticed his smile morph a little when he bit down on his lower lip and threaded the belt through the buckle. Then he yanked it as tight as he could manage. When the belt indented down into (Y/n)'s skin, he heard her ungodly scream as if the belt was around her chest, not her leg.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," He hushed quietly. "It won’t hurt for long, sweetheart." Jonah pressed the pin into the belt to create a new pinhole to make sure the belt didn’t loosen any more than that before he let go. Her leg would turn numb soon enough and it would stop both the pain from the tightness and the pain from the wound.

Jonah ran his fingertips over (Y/n)’s legs to make sure she had no other cuts or injuries, stopping when she choked on a cry as soon as his hands found her left ankle. He pulled up the end of her leggings and moved her sock out of the way before trying to be gentle when grazing his fingers over the swelling skin. Relief bolted through him when he saw that the bone wasn't poking out and it didn't exactly feel broken, it felt in tact. She might have just sprained it.

"It’s not broken, probably sprained… hey, you gotta stay with me, sweetheart. Come on, open your eyes."

Reaching his hand up, Jonah gently brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, trying to get her to talk to him when her eyes closed. He didn’t want her passing out on him in case it was a sign that she was still having bloodloss or that there was something else wrong.

She managed to open her eyes and move her left hand, barely remembering that Jonah said not to move her right wrist which was broken.

"It hurts." (Y/n) didn’t exactly know what she was referring to, whether it was her broken wrist, her bleeding leg, her damaged ankle or her head that was pounding, but she felt the need to express how everything hurt. Jonah didn’t seem to care what she was referring to, he understood what she was going through. He moved his right hand and gently took her left hand in his own, interlocking their fingers.

"I know it does, but it won’t be for long. Squeeze my hand, help will be here soon."

Jonah couldn’t give her anything for the pain and he couldn’t take it away, all he could do was be moral support and to try and help her in any way that he could. He darted his eyes down to her leg which was fading in colour meaning that the blood wasn't getting past the belt so that was a good thing at least.

He felt slight relief when (Y/n) held his hand tightly to show she wasn’t asleep just yet. She didn’t know what she would have done if Jonah hadn’t turned up, she wouldn’t have known her leg was bleeding or how to stop it, she would have tried to get herself out if she had the energy. Her panic died down immensely when he turned up because he seemed to know what he was doing. It wasn’t as scary with someone else here with her.

"P-please don’t leave me."

"Now why would I leave you?" Jonah could hear the worry in her voice as if she thought he was just going to vanish and head home. He wouldn't do that even if he wanted to because it wasn’t fair. He had come over to help and he wasn’t finished helping yet because he couldn’t leave her alone and afraid.

Jonah rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand as (Y/n) continued to squeeze his hand every now and then to show she was still awake. She pushed her chest out to let her spine click into place before settling back against the seat that felt incredibly uncomfy right now.

Something akin to fondness bubbled up in (Y/n)'s chest and pooled in her eyes when she looked over at Jonah. He wasn't looking at her but he was squeezing her hand incredibly tight. He was swaying on his heels, shifting his weight back and forth and his left hand had moved to rub his chin and brush across his lips while he watched for any signs of an ambulance or even the police.

She could see how focused he was on watching for help and how intent he was on staying right by her side. It felt like they had known each other for years, not minutes and his presence was calming and soothing.

The car moved.

A burning scream left (Y/n)'s lips and her body tensed up and pushed back into the seat when she felt the car jolt backwards. The horrid sound of metal scraping on metal sent her body shivering and burned her ears.

She was going to fall. The car was going to do down the ditch and crash. She was going to die here.

Jonah's weight unbalanced and he fell backwards on his bum, one hand scraping against the gravel to steady himself while his other hand clenched as tight as possible around (Y/n)'s hand. As if he was Superman with the power to pull her back and stop the car from falling any further.

"No, no no!"

"Oh God!"

Jonah scrambled to get up and his free hand instinctively pressed out on the roof of the car until it stopped moving and once again got wedged between the broken metal barrier. As soon as it stopped, Jonah breathed shakily in relief and moved round again. He let go of the car, he didn't want to touch or lean on it in any way in case any little touch made it move more towards the ditch again.

He leaned his head down into the car and his hand let go of (Y/n)'s hand so his hands could hold her neck. His fingers curled around the back of her neck, his thumbs brushed over her jaw and he tilted her head up so she was looking at him. He could see the panic in her watering eyes and hear it in each shuddering, shallow breath she took. Panicking wasn't going to do them any favours.

Reaching up, (Y/n) clamped down hands down around Jonah's wrists, even her broken wrist that was now pulsing and throbbing from the movement. She was shaking so badly she was causing Jonah's arms to tremble but neither of them cared.

"Jonah p-please get me out!" (Y/n)'s fingers dug bruisingly into his wrists but it was her eyes that made his stomach flip and sent his knees buckling.

"I could hurt you-"

"Please,"

His eyes slammed closed and his body jolted on the spot when (Y/n) slammed her foot down against the footwell as she let out a sharp cry. She wanted out, she wanted to feel and be safe on the roadside. She didn't want to be in a car that was about to be in the ditch.

She was moving all of her body except for the leg Jonah had tied his belt to, surely that had to mean she didn't have any nerve damage or paralysis? Wouldn't it be safer for him to get her out and move her now than to risk waiting for paramedics to do the exact same thing he could just do right now?

"Alright, alright sweetheart let's get you out of here."

Reaching down, Jonah let go of her neck and trailed his hands down to hold her arms and loop them around the back of his neck. He could see the metal that was punctured into her thigh wasn't still connected to the car so he could move her without ripping it from her skin.

He gently held her lower legs and turned them until her body was shifted so she was facing him and her legs were now hanging over the side of the seat out of the car.

Jonah bent his knees and circled his arms around (Y/n)'s waist, trying to hold her firmly but also be gentle because he didn't want to cause her further pain. He could feel her nails scratching into his shoulders as he carefully started to lift her up from the car. When (Y/n) reached her hand out to hold the door so she could keep her weight on her good leg, Jonah grabbed her hand and looped her arm back around his neck instead.

"Don't lean on the car in case it moves. Lean on me, I've got you."

He could feel the car start to slide again the moment (Y/n)'s weight was lifted from the seat. Jonah moved as quick as he could without hurting her and shuffled backwards with (Y/n) in his arms until they were a safe distance from the car that was four feet away from going down the ditch.

"Are you okay?"

His nose brushed against her hair and her breath tickled his skin when she took rapid breaths but managed to nod against his neck.

"Thank you,"

(Y/n) was sure she heard him whisper 'You're alright' into her hair before he carefully turned to help her sit down. His hands moved under her arms and he lowered her down until she was sat on the gravel with her legs stretched out in front of her as straight as rulers.

Her head felt like it was about to explode and for a brief moment, everything started to spin and her mind went dizzy. She thought she was about to flop down against the floor until a strangely familiar pair of hands grabbed her upper arms. Jonah reeled her into his side and let her weight fall onto his chest as (Y/n) suddenly realised he had sat down on the ground next to her.

His hand rubbed up and down her arm and in her slightly delirious state, (Y/n) was sure he kissed the top of her head, although she couldn't be sure.

"Cavalry’s here, love." As soon as the words passed through his lips, (Y/n) could faintly hear the blaring sirens that sounded very distant but she didn’t know if they were actually far away or if it was her ears distorting the sounds around her.

Two ambulances and a road traffic car pulled up and Jonah suspected they were going to block off this whole side of the motorway for a few hours.

Two paramedics hurried over with a stretcher to where Jonah was sat down beside (Y/n). He could see she was close to falling asleep now but it was alright if she did because the paramedics were here, they would know what to do.

"Jonah…" (Y/n) managed to open her eyes but soon closed them when all she could see was a rotating picture that was blurring too much to make anything out. A flurry of panic bubbled up in her chest when she felt strange hands on her arms pulling her forward to try and check her over and her head shook when she felt her eyelid being held open and a light cross in front of her pupil.

She didn't want Jonah to leave, as selfish as that made her. She barely knew him but she wanted to keep holding his hand and lean on his shoulder and hear his melodic voice telling her she was going to be alright.

"Jonah-"

"I’m still here sweetheart." He responded, feeling his heart pang at how she was beginning to panic again.

He shook his head when one of the paramedics asked if he was injured and his arms folded over his chest as he bit his lip, watching them assess her and talk about the best way to move her. They couldn’t afford to move the metal in her leg but it was easier now she was out the car. They didn’t have to cut her free which was the most important thing.

Jonah felt all the sirens and car horns and voices drift away and blur into silence as he watched the paramedics very slowly ease (Y/n) onto the stretcher. Both making sure her right leg was moved as little as possible as they laid her down. All three of them winced when (Y/n) suddenly made a choking sound. Her chest moving like it was convulsing and she moved her left hand to press to her lower chest before blood started to coat her lips.

One of the medics moved the stretcher so (Y/n) was sitting up instead of lying down so she didn’t choke. Her eyes closed tight and her face contorted into a look of either pain or disgust, Jonah couldn't be sure, and she tossed her head forward to spit the blood from her lips.

"Can I go with her?"

Jonah didn’t even think before the words were rushed from his lips and he felt relieved when one of them nodded. He didn’t even know her and yet he found himself wondering what her fate would be. If she would need surgery and what for, if she would be okay, who needed to be contacted. If her parents needed to be told, if she even had parents or maybe siblings or even a partner he had to contact. All the questions he could possibly have about her and her life rushed through his head as he jogged to keep up with them.

He stopped for a second to tell an officer which car was his because he would undoubtedly get clamped or have a ticket for leaving his car there if he didn't tell someone first that he was involved in this mess. He was too shaken to drive and he needed to make sure (Y/n) would be okay.

When they were in the ambulance, one of the paramedics held a white plastic bowl in front of (Y/n) so she could cough up the blood which tainted the crystal white colour of the tub into a rather dark crimson. Jonah wasn’t very well advanced with medical knowledge but he guessed by the way she was spitting blood like she was throwing up that it was something to do with her stomach. She was breathing well so it wasn’t her lungs at least.

"I’m still here," He mumbled quietly as he reached to take her hand, watching how her features seemed to relax at his voice. Her hand pulled his closer to her chest as she continued to throw up the sticky substance coating her throat and lips.

Jonah brushed her slightly knotted hair behind her ear, keeping it from her face as he felt the ambulance begin to move.

"I won’t leave you."

[thelargefrye]

Jongho + 🙊 <3

[ PLEASE IGNORE US MONTAGE ] — you and jongho share a moment that gets quickly interrupted

pairing : jongho x f!reader genre : idol au, dad!ateez, fluff, new relationship, secret relationship warnings : makeout, jongho gets a little handsy, yn has a few tattoos

jongho’s eyes bored into the back of your head as he waited for his hyungs to finish recording their lines. he knew the faster they finished and left, the faster he could spend time with you. alone.

“that’s a good job, yunho! why don’t we wrap up for today and i’ll let you know if we need to re-record anything tomorrow!” you said, voice cheery as you spoke to the vocalist.

yunho returned your smile before he walked out of the recording booth, grabbed his things and nodded both you and jongho goodbye.

finally, jongho thinks as he watches you turn around to face him. it’s been about three months since the two of you started dating. both of you agreed to keep it between the two of you for right now. jongho knew that he would receive nonstop teasing from the members once they found out, and you had no problem with keeping a secret for a little while anyways.

“come here,” jongho beckons you over as he pats the seat next to him. you smile as you get up to join him on the small couch in your studio. you let out a small giggle as you stand up and plop yourself next to him. “i thought he would never leave,” jongho groans before he’s pressing a light kiss to your lips.

“don’t be so impatient, bear,” you say as you playfully boop his nose before kissing him on the lips this time.

“can’t help it when you look so beautiful, cherry,” he says and you roll your eyes at the nickname he’s given you in reference to your tattoo of the fruit you had gotten when you were drunk.

he leans closer as his lips press into yours as he body comes to lean over yours. you wrap your arms around his neck as his own trail up your body and under your shirt. his hands are warm on your skin as he rubs small circles into your skin.

the two of you find yourselves lost in the moment of each other that you don’t hear the several knocks on your studio door. nor do you hear it opening; however, you hear the rather oddly high pitched scream that separates you both rather quickly.

jongho is the first to pull away and looks to see yunho standing in the doorway with a shocked face.

“i-i-i, um, forgot something,” yunho says, eyes still wide like a deer in headlights which ironically mirrors yours and jongho’s faces.

“then get it and out,” jongho says with an awkward cough as he moves away from you and sit up, fixing your shirt and hair to look less wild.

“are you guys—”

“shut up, hyung, please just get what you need and leave. we don’t need to talk about it,” jongho says cutting off his member as a deep red overtakes his face, ears, and neck.

“hey now, there’s no need to be embarrassed. y/n is a pretty girl. i’m happy for you,” yunho says giving you a playful wink as he finally grabs what he came back for. “and don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” he adds giving his maknae a wink this time before he’s leaving, the door closing behind him.

you and jongho sit in silence that is neither comfortable nor awkward. it’s just silence. and neither of you want to say anything just yet. finally, you turn towards your boyfriend and bite your lip at how cute he looked.

“jongho—” he puts a hand up to stop you from talking.

“we never speak of this moment again.”

send an emoji + member for a walk down memory lane.

[albatris]

Wait wait I'm new here (this blog), what's rentalcar?

hi!! :D

rentalcar is my current writing project! it's a campy queer horror trilogy about a freshly-turned body-horror vampire and an equally monstrous human bastard on their quest to murder the giant vampire hivemind god known as "the Garble" :3c

book one is called "A Rental Car Takes a Left Down Rake Street and Disappears" and book two is called "There Is Nothing to See in Lot 17, Foxtrail Lane". book three has no name yet ahaha

a little description is as follows:

schizotypal hermit Nat Finch leaves work one afternoon, and the next thing he knows he's waking up on the side of the road in his rental car, covered in mud with no memory of the last nine days. all attempts to return to regular life are quickly thwarted - whatever happened during his blackout has left him morphing into something distinctly inhuman. when his new condition reaches a bloody, ravenous breaking point, a human stranger steps in: Quinn Cooper, powerful and dazzling manipulator with a cruel streak, here to mitigate the damage and offer Nat safety under their wing... as long as Nat does exactly what he's told and doesn't ask questions

the story in book one is mostly Nat trying to solve his little mystery (What Happened During His Blackout And Why He Got Vampired) while slowly uncovering the grim secrets Quinn is hiding. book one mostly lays the groundwork and foreshadowing for my "vampirism as a condition is just one giant hivemind" worldbuilding, while books two and three rip it open and explore it properly :3

other MCs include Alexis Anders, rigidly moral vampire lawyer having ten existential crises at once, Yvonne Tozier, cheery video game fanatic full of barely-contained simmering fury (she works customer service, you get it), and Zeke Cunningham-Warwick-Lâm, romance novelist by day and vampire hunter by night, who desperately needs to stop burning herself out every other week and practice some self-care

and that's about it!

[rebelwrites]

Eleven: Tellers Never Quit On Family

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till the wheels fall off masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

Charles knew he was being more of a hindrance than a help, in fact he had basically put a halt to breakfast being made but he didn’t care, all he cared about was this moment of holding Nova in his arms.

Although in his defense she hadn’t started making pancakes yet.

“So are you working today?” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

“I’m not sure,” Nova hummed, resting her hand over Charles’ arms, “I’m gonna speak to Jax about closing the bar today, I think we could all do with a day off.”

“When was the last time you did anything for yourself?”

“Me and Jax hit up the dirt bike track the day you and Pierre got to town,” Nova responded, pausing for a second before speaking again, “it’s something we try to do every month, but that's probably the only thing I do for myself to be honest,”

Her words tugged at Charles' heart, that's when an idea popped into his head, once breakfast was over he was going to take Nova out for the day, just the two of them. It also gave him the perfect excuse to get to know her.

Before Charles could say anything the peace of the kitchen was interrupted, “Doll, I heard you were making pancakes for breakfast,” a voice appeared from behind them, “oh shit, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Nova let out a small sigh, which just confirmed to Charles that this girl needed a break, “I will make sure there's a plate for you, Tiggy,” she said in a cheery tone but Charles could hear the frustration in her voice, even if the other guy didn’t.

“You are the best, Doll,” the guy hummed, moving over to the coffee machine, “I’m Tig by the way man.”

“Nice to meet you,” Charles nodded, reluctantly pulling away from Nova.

“Thanks for taking Pops home last night,” Nova said, looking over her shoulder at Tig. Her expression dropped as she looked over at Charles, “fuck, I never even offered you and Pierre a drink. I am so sorry!” she let out a frustrated growl, covering her face with her hands, “why am I like this? I am stupid!” she asked nobody in particular.

Charles’ realized just how much pressure Nova was under, he took a step closer to her, placing his fingers underneath her chin lifting her head up slightly, “Sunshine, look at me,” Charles whispered, not caring that they had an audience right now, “you are not stupid and I don’t want to hear you say that again okay.”

“But I’m fucking everything up,” she whimpered, he could see the tears starting to form in her green eyes.

“Listen to me, you need a break, there is only so much one person can take before they crumble from the pressure,” Charles hummed, brushing his thumb over Nova’s cheek, “let me cook breakfast, you can instruct me on how you like things done but I want you to sit right here, on the counter,” he whispered, picking her up with ease, placing her on the marble effect countertop, “and I don’t want you to move.”

She took a deep breath, letting her eyes flutter closed under Charles’ touch before speaking again, “I invited you to breakfast, not for you to cook the damn thing,” she mumbled.

“Sunshine, I don’t mind, all I care about right now is spending as much time as possible with you, let me do this for you please,” Charles said softly, placing his hands on her knees.

“Okay,” Nova mumbled, finally agreeing to let Charles take over the breakfast duties.

At some point during their discussion Tig had slipped out of the kitchen leaving the two of them alone. Charles quickly pulled off his hoodie, tossing it onto the island in the middle of the room. He quickly familiarized himself with where everything was, although it didn’t take long from all the sticky notes on all the cupboard doors, the sight of the multi colored pieces of paper caused his stomach to knot up.

He wanted to do something to help Nova and Jax out.

It was becoming clear that they made it look like they were managing to the outside world when in actual fact they were struggling to keep their head’s above water.

As he got to work on making the pancakes an idea popped into his head, he didn’t know how either of them would react but he needed to do it in a way where he kept himself anonymous. The fundraiser was tomorrow and it would be the perfect time to execute this new idea. He could easily make a donation to the charity but he wanted to do something more personal, something that would help Nova and Jax directly.

Pushing his thoughts aside right now, he focused on the feeling of Nova’s gaze watching his every move, it was like she was mesmerized by his movements which caused Charles to have a permanent smile on his face. He knew that this was a small gesture in the grand scheme of things but he was just happy he was able to try and relieve some of the pressure.

“Just don’t burn the pancakes, Elenor will try to stab you with her fork if you do!” Nova giggled, the sound was music to Charles’ ears as he spun around with the spatula in his hand.

“Oh babygirl, I wouldn’t dare burn them,” Charles smirked, noticing the way Nova pulled the hoodie over her face to try and hide the fact she was blushing at him calling her babygirl, “just wait until you try my pancakes.”

Before Nova could respond JT slowly walked into the kitchen, a sad look on his face the moment he saw his daughter. Charles quickly turned the heat off on the stove, placing the spatula over the top of the pan, “I will give you two some space,” he said quietly, getting ready to exit the room.

“I want you to hear this as well,” JT said, making eye contact with Charles, “I just want to apologize for last night, Tig filled me in on just how cruel I was,” he said, running his hand over his face. “My sweet Nova, I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you, especially in the way I did last night.”

“Pops, you called me Gemma!” Nova said extremely quietly fiddling with the sleeves of her hoodie, which was something Charles had noticed she did when she felt nervous or was trying to keep herself calm, “I can handle most things, but that was a low blow. I’m nothing like her,” she paused, taking another deep breath, “I know you didn’t mean it intentionally but it felt like a personal attack. Like you think Charles is going to take me away from you.”

“I know sweetheart,” JT whispered, placing his hand on her knee, “I will spend as long as it takes to make it up to you, to you both,” he said, turning to Charles, “I don’t think either of you are like those soul suckers. I hate that a switch flips in my brain and I’m locked in a moment with no escape,” Nova stayed silent, keeping her focus on her hands. “I can now see how much pressure I am putting on everyone, my outbursts are getting more frequent and I feel each day I am losing a little bit more of myself.”

Charles’ heart was breaking hearing JT’s voice starting to crack from all the emotions he was holding inside. Moving across the room Charles placed his hand on JT’s shoulder trying to provide some form of comfort.

“I’ve already spoken to Jax and I think it will be better if I moved into a facility where I can get full time assistance.”

“Pops, no!” Nova finally spoke, tears freely rolling down her cheeks as she looked up at her father. “I’m not fucking putting you in a god damn home. It just ain't happening. We will figure it out, we always do. Tellers never quit on family. What happened to till the wheels fall off?” Charles could see the frustration bubbling away inside her as the words flew out of her mouth. “If you get stuck in a home then I might as well get my last name changed back to Haynes because all the Haynes’ know is how to quit on their fucking own!”

Charles was confused, why would Nova be talking about changing her name back? Wasn’t she biologically JT’s daughter? JT’s eyes went wide as he processed the words that just came out of Nova’s mouth, “hell will freeze over before you do that, you are a Teller through and through!” JT said with a stern tone in his voice.

“Exactly Pops,” Nova exclaimed, roughly wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her hoodie, “look, just give me today to clear my head and we will talk things over properly.”

“Whatever you need, sweetheart,” JT whispered, leaning closer to Nova, pressing a kiss against the top of her head before he quietly slipped out of the kitchen.

Charles instantly moved so he was now standing in front of Nova, without saying a word he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest, resting his chin on the top of her head. “What do you need right now?” he whispered, wanting to try and make the world right again for the girl that had single handedly captured his heart.

A heavy sigh escaped Nova’s lips before she spoke, “I just need to get outta here,” she was practically clinging onto his shirt like her life was depending on it, “for just one day I want to forget about everything”

“Come on then babygirl,” Charles whispered, pulling away from the embrace, taking Nova’s hand in his, “we can do whatever or go wherever you want. I just want to get you smiling again.”

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @celestialams @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

[heroineimages]

Weird parody idea

I haven't been able to find it again, but a while back on Tumblr there was a post going around about being the one maid in a hentai mansion who actually does her work while everyone else in the place is busy fornicating. While the maid in the post seemed grumpy about her work, I had the idea of making a cheery little ace maid who's completely nonchalant about the weird deviance she's surrounded by. I wrote this brief sfw scene that's all about making weird dialogue seem like an everyday exchange, and I have ideas for a few other scenes that are less sfw.

“Thank you for waiting, Mister Jacobs!” I called, holding my apron and skirts up as I trotted down the lane to the manor’s front gate. Without breaking stride, I scooped up a used rubber from the nearby grass with a trash-spear and deposited it in the little disposable bag I carried for that purpose. The master’s family could be so messy about that kind of thing.

“Miss Ada again, is it?” Mister Jacobs, the postman, greeted in return. “No Mister Harris again this morning?” he asked, referring to the usual doorman.

“No, I’m afraid Mister Harris the gateman is still chained up in the mistress’s sex-basement,” I informed him as he handed me the master and mistress’s letters. “I regret to tell you that he won’t be able to say ‘hello’ and give you head this morning.”

“Ach, that makes three days in a row,” Mister Jacobs lamented humorously. He squinted a bit at me with a queer tilt to his head. “How’d you do it, lass? You told me yourself that you don’t enjoy sex much, so how do you handle working for a family as notoriously deviant as the Williamsons?”

“Oh, I really don’t mind for the most part!” I answered, blushing a bit at the bevy of spicy memories about their aforementioned notorious deviance. “The master and mistress are both kind and very respectful of my boundaries—but I understand how unlikely that seems, given how few boundaries everyone else around here seems to have!” I laughed.

“Well, do remember me to Mister Harris when you see him,” Mister Jacobs nodded, tipping his hat.

“Of course!” I beamed, curtsying. “I’ll tell him you said hello when I put fresh water in his dog-bowl later,” I promised. Letters in hand, I waved farewell and trotted back up the lane to the front door.

[blessyourhondahurley]

Suptober day 1 - The Liminal Moment

Dean's managed to completely screw up his back. Bobby sends him... somewhere?

Suptober prompt: Liminal

(Read on AO3)

The pain isn't getting any better.

Okay, understatement.

The pain is getting worse every day. The last couple of mornings it had hurt so much just to get out of bed that there had been tears in his eyes by the time his feet were on the floor.

He'd manged to torque himself somehow, moved in exactly the wrong way by half an inch a few weeks ago, and something in his lower back had seized and squeezed and it hasn't let go since. What started as a sharp but localized ache has spread, more and more of his muscles going into spasm as he's held himself in increasingly awkward ways in search of relief. At this point his entire left side, kneecap to earlobe, is a hot line of agony, centered on a spot near his kidney that feels like a rusty rebar's been shoved straight through it.

But Dean's no wimp, and he's no whiner, either. No matter how bad he hurts he's showing up for work every day, putting in the hours, pulling his weight. Maybe he's not too fast on his feet right now, shuffling from car to car on the shop floor like somebody's decrepit grandpa, but he's still covering the floor. He's got a lifetime of experience with suffering in silence, after all, and nobody needs to know his business except him.

He's hunched crookedly over the engine of a '93 Chrysler LeBaron when Bobby yells for him, “GODDAMMIT DEAN!!” cracking through the shop so loud and so unexpected that he immediately straightens up on reflex. The sudden movement brings pain so intense he's briefly nauseated. His eyesight swims, and for a few seconds he worries he's about to pass out. By the time he feels steady again his boss is standing in front of him, looking equal parts irritated and worried.

“Boy, what's gotten into you lately?” he asks gruffly. “You look like hell, and you've been actin' like you're half-dead for days. You sick or somethin'?”

Dean tries to play it cool, but as he reaches to lean on the LeBaron's bumper a tremor in his hand betrays him. Busted. He grits his teeth and fesses up. “Kinda threw out my back a week or two ago. Pain keeps getting worse an' worse. I didn't mean for it to affect my job, though. I'm sorry if–”

Bobby cuts him off with an impatient gesture. “Y'ain't got nothin' to apologize for, son. You're more than just a shop hand to me, you know that.” He pulls off his grimy trucker cap, runs a hand through his thinning hair, and sighs. “You gotta take better care of yourself, Dean. You ain't nineteen any more. God knows none of us are.” He turns to his left and calls, “Garth, come take over on this Chrysler.”

“What? No!” Dean tries to block his lanky coworker's access to the engine, but Garth's got the advantages of height, reach, and a functioning muscular system and Dean can't even slow him down. Bobby tugs him carefully toward the office door. “It's fine, I can still work!” he protests.

“Not today you can't,” he says. “Go wash your hands, and then I want you to head on over across the street.”

Dean looks out through the open doors of the garage bay and across the two-lane blacktop that runs by Bobby's shop. There's a tiny strip mall on the other side of the road: four bland storefronts and an Italian restaurant. “You... want me to go... pick up a pizza?” he guesses.

His boss brings his hand up like he's about to dole out one of his trademark slaps to the back of his mechanic's head. Then he seems to think better of it and stops himself with a huff. “Try two doors down from the pizza place, idjit.” He gives Dean's shoulder a gentle shove. “Wash up and go. I'll call ahead. By the time you get yourself dragged across the way there'll be somebody waitin' for ya.”

Aching, dazed, and confused, Dean complies. It takes him a good five minutes to shamble his way up to the cheery yellow door he's been directed to. The sign above it declares this place to be The Liminal Moment and Dean has no idea what the hell that's supposed to mean. He turns the knob and walks inside as a collection of small bronze bells tinkle above his head.

He finds himself in a generic waiting area – a couple of chairs, a small table with some magazines, a reception desk (currently unmanned). There's an assortment of potted plants on the desk and the windowsills, and a small electric fountain burbling in the corner. The walls are painted a softer shade of the door's yellow. Behind the desk, someone has stuck up one of those cutesy inspirational stick-on decals. It reads “Honor the space between no longer and not yet – Nancy Levin”.

Dean still does not know what this place is or why he was sent here.

“I'll be right with you,” calls a rough voice. A few moments later a breathtakingly beautiful man strides in to the room with a gummy smile and a “Hello, Dean.”

Off balance and befuddled, Dean offers a limp wave in response.

The man continues. “I just got off the phone with Bobby. He says you're in a great deal of pain?”

“Yeah, I, uh, fucked up my back? What is this place, man? Bobby told me to walk over. Why am I here?”

“Oh, I'm so sorry, we're doing this all out of order. Welcome to The Liminal Moment. My name is Castiel. I'll be your masseur today.”

This story concludes here!

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.129 Friend

Sophia was still on the couch when I got home, rubbing her belly ever so tenderly. Knowing Dr. McKnight prescribed rest, I wondered if a little exercise would be okay. All that sitting couldn't be good for her health, but our focus was the baby for the time being. Besides, Sophia was perfectly happy to sit there and host our girl until check-out time; she was so beautiful doing it, too.

"Looks like our sweet potato is not a sweet potato anymore," I said.

"Nope," she replied, still rubbing her belly. "She is fully grown and ready to rule the world!"

"World domination already? I thought we'd have time for a few rounds of hopscotch before then."

She laughed heartily.

"I'm sure she will pencil you in."

"I hope so."

"So how is Maira? Is she coping alright?"

I paused for a moment, thinking about how to answer without going into too much detail. It wasn't that I didn't want her to know what we spoke about. I just didn't want to worry her...because of the baby.

"She, uhhh... She's got a lot on her mind. I think she'll be okay, though. She was talking about corrupting our child, so I'd say she's back, heh."

Sophia chuckled and shook her head.

"Hopefully she'll wait until she's at least a teenager! But I'm glad she's alright. It's so tragic what happened! That's way too young to die."

"Yeah, it is. What about Rashidah? She seemed okay at the parties."

"Well...you know how it is when you wear a mask."

I certainly did. We had become experts at it.

Sophia's text notification chimed.

"Oh! Speaking of her," she said, looking at her phone. "She's inviting us over tonight."

That was a first. We'd been together all that time, but now when it was critical for Sophia to rest, she invited us to her house? Sims.

"Do you feel up to it?" I asked. "I mean, you're in the home stretch now..."

"I'll be fine, Luca! We're just gonna go over there and sit around, so what's the difference?"

It wasn't the sitting around part I was concerned about. Socializing wore her out sometimes, and she was supposed to be conserving energy. But whatever my pregnant queen wanted, she got.

Mark and Rashidah lived in Willow Creek down the street from our old house. It felt really strange to be back in Courtyard Lane after all this time. Bittersweet memories came to mind as I glanced at our house. From the outside, it looked so cheery, with its manicured landscaping, colorful flowers, and white picket fence. The new owners had no idea what secrets lurked behind the walls and how many gallons of tears stained the pillows. Hopefully, they were having a much better time than we did. Flashes of lightning and booms of thunder cut my memory lane jaunt short. Mark and Rashidah came out to usher us in from the storm.

Naturally, Sophia and Rashidah flew to each other like magnets, sharing their excitement about the baby together. I didn't know Mark that well, but we tried a little small talk. As the night went on, the two lively friends carried on as always, laughing and swapping stories. Maybe she bore her grief better than Maira. After all, she was a lot older than Imran and may have already left home by the time he was born. Or perhaps she desperately needed cheering up, and Sophia had done her job well. Either way, I was glad we left her in higher spirits.

[azurenightowl]

All atmospheric lights on, lense flare and slow pan over Coruscant. The night sky is a dark green, almost black, something like rainforest soil where thousands of years of ecological equilibrium cause it to teem with life. The night sky is the gateway to a galaxy filled with life. Stars like mischievous worms, eating up the detrius. Hyperspace lanes like mycelium, intelligent, sprawling. Living. Everywhere, life.

Zoom in. We’re on a street, and it’s busy despite the late hour. The night sky is grey now—there’s too much light pollution. Breathe in. Petrol. There’s a kebab van down one street, and a rotting cat down the other. The sky still a gateway, but here in the gloam it’s muted. Most people on this street will never get out of it, out of the neighbourhood. Klaxon, motorcycle, screaming. It’s not quite the underbelly—the dark one, darker than the sky is—but the defining feature here is the poverty. Dirty streets, but bright streetlamps. There are ghosts playing piano, slim-wristed, gaunt-faced. It’s out of tune, and accompanies a lone saxophone, dripping like rainwater into every person’s apartment. Damp, moldy apartments. There is no moon, only claire de lune.

Even in the slums, Coruscant gleams.

Zoom in further. There’s a man in dark robes. Dark brown, almost black but not quite. The fabric is fine, hand-woven by masters, but the cut is simple. He carries in his pocket an expensive jewel his lover gifted him, which he will not have the liberty to wear. Enter the hero: Anakin Skywalker, beloved, walks away from the apartment that only the two of them know exist, lost in thought. This was one clean. It smelled of antiseptic, kind of clean. There wasn’t a dishwasher but someone had to handwash the dishes and it wasn’t them, kind of clean. Somebody’s hands are wrinkled from washing the dishes, and it wasn’t them, kind of clean.

Close up on the hands. If you look carefully, you can see his hands are ungloved and perfectly white. Lady Macbeth killed herself out of guilt, you must remember, but the righteous do not jump off towers. They climb them—watch him climb the towers of Coruscant—and they nod in greeting to the guards, and they head home.

Anakin Skywalker, knight, walks into the Jedi Temple. Wide shot. It's a very large temple, but it's very small in this one, a gentle grey stone building, soft like dove-down and clouds, lit like an overcast day without rain. The rest of Coruscant is black brick and orange fire, infinite.

There are people milling about. An eclectic hectic mix of nocturnal adults and diurnal teenagers, and small, tiny ones, tripping into robes and giggling. A docent, coralling nine unruly figures into a line on the way to their midnight meal, is given a friendly pat on the back by their lineage brother, on his way home from a long mission.

The air hums—Coruscant gets warm but the air conditioning is good. It has to be, to support their plants through the summer. Anakin Skywalker, slave, is cold, never quite got used to these cooler temperatures. He starts to go back to his chambers for thicker, warmer dress, and stops. The clock chimes one, and he realises he has places to be. Close up of his frowning face.

He turns on his heel, and one of the younglings trips into him. He raises an eyebrow at them, they stutter out a cheery apology, and run back to their wearied and longanimous docent.

The tragedy here, in case you missed it, is the children running in these hallowed halls. Let the adults walk; these ones are small and haven’t learnt how tender is the sole of a foot. They’re laughing and they don’t quite yet know what it means to bleed.

Anakin Skywalker, murderer, signed up to teach a class. There’s a shortage of teachers, what with the war on. This is his way of giving back to this community which he loves.

For now, let him guide them through the first forms of lightsaber combat. Less katas, more yoga. There are some slackers, but fortunately that doesn’t matter as they won’t get to grow old enough to need it. These children will never see a warfront, because the frontlines will draw back to the heart of the temple and strangle them there. They won’t be old enough to understand what makes their deaths profane, why the camera must turn away from them.

Anyway, all of this to say that they enjoy the lesson. Anakin Skywalker, teacher, is relaxed, thorough, and funny.

Pan away. Please. This too is sacred, unwatchable.

Let them have this. They have so little, in the end. They are so little, in the end.

The night sky hangs itself outside the temple's grand windows, empty, empty, empty.