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vivwritesfics · 4 months ago

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Fighting Fires

Fire seems to follow her everywhere. As does fire captain Carlos Sainz. Not that she minds

Warnings: Fire, Logan almost dying

Viv's AUgust Event

Her landlord had warned her about the alarm. "One bit of smoke," he'd said as he placed the keys into her palm, "and the alarm will go off. The firemen will be called and the building will be evacuated." He closed her fist around the keys. "Don't set it off."

For three months, she'd been careful. For three months she hadn't set off the fire alarm.

The toaster was broken. She knew it was broken, knew she had to pop the toast before it popped itself. Because it wouldn't pop itself, it would burst into flames. She shouldn't have put the toast down before went in the shower. Before she knew it, the fire alarm in her apartment building was ringing.

Rapped in her pink robe, with her narwhal slippers on her feet, she was rushed out of the building. Her legs shook from the cold as the firemen rushed inside.

That was when she remembered.

The toaster. Fuck.

The firefighters walked out of the building and called her apartment number. Embarrassment was written on her face as she approached them, looking at her feet instead of the stares of her fellow tenants.

"It was the toaster, wasn't it?" She asked as the firefighter pulled off his helmet. As the handsome firefighter pulled off his helmet. Even after running into an almost burning building, helmet on his head, his hair was still perfect. His brown eyes drew her in as he stared down at her.

But she wasn't ready for his voice, the way it wrapped around her when he spoke. "Your kitchen is ruined," he said. She stopped herself from shivering, and not from the cold. "Do you have anybody you can stay with while your landlord pays to get it fixed?"

She opened her mouth, but she didn't get a chance to respond. "Wait a moment, Sainz!" The landlord shouted as he strode towards them. "She set my building on fire! She can fucking pay for it!"

She didn't mean to cower. But it had been a long evening and it was her fault that the building nearly burnt down. She wanted nothing more than to lay on her floor and cry.

The firefighter looked down at her, sympathy written on his face. If the ground opened up and swallowed her whole, she would have been happy. But the firefighter turned to her landlord. "This isn't the first time we've been called out because of the toasters you've put in your apartments, Christian," he said, large hand settling on her back.

Her landlord backed down and the firefighter turned towards her again. "Have you got somebody you can stay with while he gets your kitchen fixed?"

She swallowed and nodded.

***

Fire was following her, she swore. She sat at her desk, tapping away at her computer when the fire alarm went off.

It had been a week and a half since the fire that wrecked her kitchen. Her best friend Logan had insisted that she stay with him. He picked her up and took her back to his house, giving her the couch to sleep on (reluctantly giving her the couch to sleep on. Logan had insisted she take his bed, but she declined. It went back and forth until Logan gave in).

And now the fire alarm was going off in her office. She stood with the rest of her co-workers and followed them out to the car park. Other businesses on other floors of the building grumbled as they made their way outside.

"What is it this time?" The guy from the paper company from the floor below asked.

She crossed her arms over her chest as she looked up at the building. "It wasn't one of your guys, was it?" She asked with a little laugh.

He laughed right back. "I don't think so," he replied and nudged her with his elbow. "One of yours?"

"I hope not."

When the sirens sounded, everybody turned towards the entrance of the car park. The fire engine pulled in and everybody stepped back as the fire fighters climbed off of the truck and made their way inside of the building.

"We had a small fire at my apartment two weeks ago," she said to the guy from the paper company as they waited for the firemen to do their things. Was fire captain Sainz in there? God, she hoped so.

The guy from the paper company let out a laugh. "You're just a bit of bad luck, aren't you?" He asked jokingly and she gave a nod.

The firefighters emerged from the building. Just as when they'd put out the fire in her building, the fire captain pulled off his helmet. Perfect hair, pretty brown eyes and soft, pillowy lips. Fire captain Sainz addressed the crowd before his eyes landed on her.

His eyebrows went up, but he finished what he was saying before he approached her.

Helmet tucked under his arm, he strode over to her. Fire captain Sainz looked all kinds of sexy as he walked up to her, grinning. "You again?" He asked as he looked down at her.

She could have melted beneath the warmth of his gaze. "Trust me, it wasn't my fault this time. At least, I don't think it was my fault," she said, head tipping to the side slightly.

"Did you use the microwave on the top floor?"

Her eyes bulged slightly and she released a laugh. "The microwave finally gave out? I should have known," she mumbled and shook her head. "No, but this time it wasn't me."

Paper company guy stepped back, but neither of them noticed. "I wouldn't mind putting out your fires," he said and adjusted his helmet in his grip.

Her heart was beating so erratically as she looked at him. He was flirting, that was definite. She just wasn't sure how to flirt back. Instead, she gestured towards helmet. "Can I try it on?" She asked and Carlos placed the helmet in her hands.

***

Logan insisted that they go out for drinks. "Just let loose," he had said, and she agreed. She got dressed into her favourite skirt and a top to match.

She and Logan walked arm in arm into the bar. It was busy, music loud and atmosphere lively. They sat opposite each other in a booth and Logan got up for the first round of drinks.

It had been so long since she and Logan had gone out for drinks together. Her hands tapped against her thighs as she looked around. Surely they knew some people here, old school friends they'd lost touch with as their adult lives began.

Logan sat down and placed a colourful cocktail in front of her. "What is it?" She asked as she picked it up and smelt the liquer inside.

"It's called a tropical smash," Logan said as he sipped his own drink.

She lifted it to her lips and sipped. It was delicious, didn't taste like it contained alcohol.

She had a second before the face of the handsome fire captain came into view. She was stumbling slightly as she approached the bar, not having yet spotted the handsome fire captain.

But a large, warm hand settled on her waist, steadying her. "Woah there, Arrancadora de fuego," he said with a deep chuckle.

She turned to face him, eyes going wide at the sight of him. His button up shirt wasn't all the way buttoned and his sleeves were rolled up. He looked damn good.

"Captain Carlos!" She called and threw her arms around him. "You look hot!"

He laughed, but he didn't take his hands off of her. "Have you had a few drinks, by any chance?" He asked as he brought his hands to settle on her waist.

"Do you wanna dance with me?" She asked as she leaned back in his hold, arms still around his neck.

Maybe it was his saviour complex, maybe it was because it was her, but Carlos couldn't say no. He led her to the dance floor, made up of only a few people, and followed her movements.

Dancing didn't come naturally to Carlos. He was stiff, and that had her frowning. So, she grabbed his hips and moved him with her. Loosened him up until he was moving fluidly against her.

Logan and drinks were forgotten about as she stared into Carlos's eyes. She could have kissed him, could have pressed her lips against his own and enjoyed the moment. He was leaning in, wasn't he?

But then his phone rang. He pulled away from her to answer it, pushing through the crowds of people to get outside.

***

(Note: this is not a reflection of real people)

Logan's girlfriend was a little bit... ditsy. Forgetful. Like leaving the freezer door open, leaving television on and forgetting to turn off her hair straighteners before she went to work.

Logan had no idea. His temporary roommate had no idea. They were sitting there, watching television as the straighteners sat on a cushion. Stretching, Logan yawned. "I'm heading to the bathroom," he said and stood up.

The fire alarm went off while Logan was in the bathroom. She switched off the television and stood up. "I'll see you outside, Logan!" She called and headed out of the apartment they were currently sharing.

The rest of the tenants were outside. It was mindless chatter that she joined in with while she waited for Logan. He was on his way, she knew.

But then those around her started gasping. She turned towards the apartment building and looked up.

That was Logan's bedroom window. An orange glow came from inside, a fire. "Logan!" She called desperately as she searched for him. He had to be outside.

But he wasn't. "Fuck," she hissed. The sirens of the fire engine in the distance, but there was no way for them to get there in time. Not with Logan still inside. "Fuck," she hissed again. It would be so easy to just run inside and get him out. "Fuck."

She ran forward, pulled open the doors of the building and headed inside. The elevator was out, shut down the moment the fire alarm went off. Taking the stairs two at a time, she headed up to Logan's floor. The fire engines were much closer now. If she had time to look out of the window she would have seen them parking up and climbing out.

One of Logan's older neighbours grabbed a hold of fire captain Sainz's arm. "Please!" She cried. "She just ran inside!"

Carlos remained calm as he spoke to the old woman. She gave the name of the girl that ran inside and Carlos felt the blood drain from his face. He knew that name, knew that girl. Of course she would be here. "We'll get her out safely, ma'am," he said and headed inside.

Smoke filled the corridor as she entered her floor. She coughed and held her elbow over her nose and mouth as she headed towards Logan's front door. "Logan!" She shouted and pushed her key into the lock.

It was so damn hot when she pushed open the door. Fuck, this was a mistake. "Logan!" She shouted again. "Are you in here?!"

There was a muffled noise from the bathroom. Dropping to her knees she crawled over to the bathroom door. Her eyes stung, throat burned as she reached up for the door handle.

Suddenly a hand was on her shoulder. It pulled her back, pulled her into a strong chest. "He's in there!" She cried and tried to push away from the chest. "Get him out, please!"

Strong arms picked her up, held her head against his chest so she was breathing nothing but him as he got her outside. Other firefighters were rushing about around them, putting out the fire and getting Logan out. But she wasn't aware of any of it as the fire captain carried her outside and placed her on the ground.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" He shouted as he pulled off his mask.

Fury was written across his face as he stared down at her. She let out a cough and folded her arms over her chest. "Logan was still in there," she said as she looked at her shoes. "He could have died."

"We would have gotten him out! You could have died going in there!"

Tears stung at her eyes. A mixture of smoke inhalation and humiliation. Suddenly his fingers were on her chin, tipping her face towards him. "You had me scared, cariño. When your neighbour told me that you ran in there..."

She leaned forward to kiss him, something she should have done that night in the bar. Carlos wrapped his arms around her and held her close. "I'm sorry," she whispered against his lips.

Carlos settled her back on her feet. "Never do something like that to me again," he said, his forehead against hers.

"Never again," she whispered and kissed him again. "But shouldn't you be helping your men stop my best friends apartment from burning down?"

He looked towards the building. The fire had died down and they'd gotten Logan out, but he still had a job to do. "Wait here," he said and kissed the top of her head.

Pulling his mask back over his face, he ran inside.

Her hero.

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz x you #cs55 #cs55 imagine #cs55 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #firefighter!au

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silentcryracha · 11 months ago

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❍ ‗ Tough Work - Bang Chan ‗ ❍

Pairing : Bang Chan x f Reader

Summary : Bang Chan gets his plans ruined yet again by a late notice schedule and he's pissed. His friends call his girlfriend to the rescue to calm him down before he punches his laptop.

Word count : 3.2k

Warnings/tags : a little angst at the beginning, Chan is an emotional mess, swear words, smut (ONLY 18+), sex on a desk chair, unprotected sex (don't be silly goofy y'all), use of pet name baby, baby girl.

A/n : I had some inspo (not gonna tell you eheh) + it's the holiday season so yeah why not! Let's slut the holidays away🤣🙏🏻 merry Xmas pookies 🤎Also be KIND it's my first full written fic since like...august or sumn

masterlist

ps: No Beta'd. Do NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedback if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy!

♡︎.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When Hyunjin called you, it definitely came as a surprise. It was around five pm and you were doing absolutely nothing except chill on the couch watching a movie on your (very deserved) days off for the holidays. Until the phone suddenly rang, making you curious as you saw the name calling. Especially since you thought you heard Chan, your boyfriend, saying that they were working today.

'Hello?'

'Hey, yn, hi. Are you busy right now?' your friend's voice sounded slightly defeated as he answered, even though you could tell he was trying to play it off.

'Hyune, hi. No, I'm not, what's up? Is everything okay?' you sat straight, listening carefully.

'Yes and no. Listen, we got some late notice from the company and now Chan hyung is pissed. Like very pissed.' you frowned as he sighed, 'But mostly he's upset. And I know for a fact that the only thing that can calm him down it's you. Would you mind maybe coming over?'

You and Chan were supposed to meet at your apartment to have dinner together later, despite that you didn't even think twice before getting up and walking to your room to change quickly.

'Yes, got it. Don't worry, I'll be there in 10.'

You didn't bother getting ready properly, with a full on makeup and hair done, or a carefully picked out outfit. Usually you'd have some decency going out, even just for meeting your friends. But right now you didn't have the time, nor the mood for it.

Hyunjin didn't give too many details, but since he mentioned a late notice schedule, you probably imagined that it would mess with your and Chan's plans for New Year's. It was not the first time that it happened unfortunately, but then again, it was his work. He couldn't truly help it, and you knew that it upset him.

You put on a gray wool oversized dress, some pantyhose, a padded jacket and a beanie, after quickly fixing your hair slightly. Then you grabbed your bag and before you knew it, you were in your car driving to the boys' dorm.

Like you predicted, around ten minutes later you arrived and opted on sending Hyunjin a text instead of ringing the bell. He immediately came to answer the door and gave you a quick hug and a small smile.

'Changbin is not home. Me and Jisung are going out for a while, okay? Let me know when the threath has been doomed.' he joked, just as you waved to Jisung who was wrapping a big scarf around his neck. He smiled back and hugged you too.

'Thank you, yn. He wouldn't hear us out at all, so we decided to call you.' he said. You shook your head slightly as you took off the beanie.

'It's okay. I'm sorry that you guys probably also had some plans spoiled.' you responded. They both had a sweet yet quite defeated expression on as you switched places, them on the doorstep on their way out and you on your way in.

'Ah, It's alright. It's out job after all. Take your time, alright?' Hyunjin replied, and you nodded with a small smile before they closed the door behind them.

You sighed, mentally preparing to try and not look too disappointed. You were, of course, but now it wasn't about you. And besides, the last thing you would've wanted was to make Chan feel more guilty.

You made your way down the corridor to his room, which was pretty much silent. You knocked on the door gently, and just after a couple of seconds your boyfriend showed up. He was wearing a black hoodie, gray tracksuit pants and his big headphones. His face looked tired, serious and there was the slightest hint of red in his eyes.

His expression switched fast as soon as he realized it was you at the door and not one of his roommates, which had already taken turns in trying to comfort him and calm him down. He even had a small argument with Changbin, hence why he had to leave the house before they started shouting names at each other.

'Yn? What- weren't we supposed to meet later? Did I loose track of time-?' he quickly glanced down at the time on his phone, taking off the headphones with one hand and discarding them on his bed. The wallpaper being a sweet picture of you too making yout heart shrink a bit.

'Channie, hi baby. No, it's okay, you didn't. A little bird told me you needed some cheering up.' you smiled sweetly at him as you brought your hands up to stroke his arms.

He scoffed, releasing himself from your grip gently, just to walk back and plop down on his big plush desk chair.

'Which one of those fu-...ah, I don't even care. I assume that they told you, then?' he sighed heavily, stopping himself from curing at his friends. You walked closer, taking off your bag and jacket, placing them on the clothes hanger behind the door.

'Don't be mad. They did it because they care about you enough to not see your hair turn white from stress before your time.' you tried to lighten up the mood, but it didn't seem to work as he just proceeded to put his head down in between his hands.

Your smile fell, taking a deep breath, understanding that he really needed some time to get out his feelings first.

'Just about a late notice schedule. Nothing more, but I assume that it's for New Year's. Is that why you're so upset?' you scrunched down in frot of him, your hands placed on his knees.

He waited a few seconds before speaking, his voice low and quite monotone. 'We got two Japan schedules for the 31st and the 1st. But we have to leave on the 29th. And we'll probably not going to be back before the 2nd. Just in time for our already pre paid and organized planes to be canceled. Of fucking course.' his tone getting sharper as he spoke.

You stroked his thigh gently to comfort him, 'I'm sorry, baby. I know you were looking forward to a few days off.' you responded. He shook his head, frowning as he sat up straight.

'Fuck the days off. I can have days off all year. I was looking forward to spending at leas one fucking holiday with my girlfriend, in peace in a nice luxury cabin in the middle of damn nowhere.' he ranted angrily, before pausing for a second and giving you a quick look. 'It's me the one who should be sorry.'

'But it's not your fault, Chan. It's work, you have schedules and many times they may not be planned. That's how it works for many other jobs too, think about it.' you try to reason, once again taking his hands into your stroking them.

'It's the third time in four months. First it was your birthday, then Christmas, and now New Year's. It's starting to stress me out. Isn't it stressing you out?' he asked, frowning. You sighed.

'What do you want me to say? 'Chris this is too much, you're always busy with stuff that's out of your control so I'm leaving you'? Is that what you want to hear?' your tone slightly more stern. You weren't mad, but his constant throwing himself under the bus was bothering you. He widened his brown eyes, squeezing your hands slightly.

'No! What? Of course not. I was just-' you stood up straight, shushing him.

'Then stop with that shit. We can reschedule later. I don't give a fuck whether it is December 31st or April, or whatever. I'll be happy to spend time with my boyfriend and that's it. Okay? Stop beating yourself up about it.' your voice got warmer. He leaned forward, resting his head on your stomach and wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you close.

'Still. Im sorry that I keep disappointing you. You deserve better.' the last sentence made you snap so you pushed him back slightly, making him look up at you.

'Oi, don't say shit like that. It's not true.' the little oi clearly being his Aussie influence.

'You are better. You're the best. Don't ever say that, because it's not true. I love you.' you cradled his face in your hands. His big brown eyes looking up at you so sweetly.

'Am I though?' he said sadly. Always doubting himself, you sighed internally.

'Yes you are.' you planted a kiss on his lips, trying to lighten up the mood 'Besides, you know that I'm too honest. If you were being shitty to me I'd tell you. Well, I'd tell your friends first and then you. Just to add that bit of embarrassment.' you shrinked your eyes jokingly, finally getting a chuckle out of him.

That made you smile in return, as you kept caressing his cheeks with your thumbs. He looked up at you again, shaking his head slightly with a small smile on his face. 'What?' you said cutely.

'I love you so much. I wonder what did I do to deserve you.' you smiled sweetly at him before switching again, and clicking your tongue.

'Getting sappy here, Christopher' you released his face, about to turn around to go get your phone, just to shoot a quick message to Hyunjin reassuring that the situation was handled, but chan grabbed your hand making you turn around.

He laughed, smirking up at you slightly. 'Hey, come back here' you chuckled, letting yourself be dragged back. You were now standing in between his legs, him still sitting on his big desk chair.

'You need something?' you joked. 'Just my girl. Right here. Close to me.' your smile turned into a smirk, as your hands started to wander on his shoulders.

'I am close.' his hands came up to your waist then down to your hips, pushing you more into him, your faces close.

'Closer' you carefully straddled him, your arms around his neck.

'Enough?' he chuckled faintly, his lips grazing your neck and then whispering 'Never' into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

'Greedy boy' you teased 'I can get even more greedy. Will you let me?' he looked back at you, the slightest hint of humor in his voice, but his eyes were telling a different story.

'Yes' you respondeded without a doubt. 'Go ahead. Do whatever you want. I know you need it.' at that point he crashed his lips to yours, immediately starting a passionate kiss. Your hands gripped his broad shoulders as his hands pressed your hips down to his crotch.

At that point your dress had already pooled around your hips, so the only thing separating you two were your pantyhose and panties, aside from his own pants. As you continued kissing and grinding, he got hard quite quickly.

One of his hands were holding you close to him while the other wandered under the dress and then straight to the hem of the pantyhose and the panties.

'Off' he mumbled in between kisses, so you carefully stood up, a little dazed from the heat of the moment and quickly discarded them both at the same time. Chan also got up to get rid of his own pants and underwear, and then reprised to kiss you.

He tried to lead you to the bed, but you stopped him 'No, I want to ride you there' you slowly pushed him back on the chair, his gaze not leaving you for a single moment.

'Fuck baby' he cursed, before widening his eyes for a moment 'Wait let me close the door-' you pushed him back again, shooting him a smirk.

'Relax, baby. Hold on' you went to close the door, turning the lock for safety, even though you knew that most likely none of the members would've stepped back into the house unless you told them to.

'Need you so bad, c'mere' he grabbed your hand, almost making you stumble into him. You chuckled, straddling him again. He wetted his fingers slightly with some spit before his hand went straight to stroke your slit. You moaned into his neck, as you kept your knees raised at his sides to allow him access.

'So wet already' he teased, making you groan and hump his hand more.

'You made me go out in the cold and interrupt a good movie. Now get to work, Christoper.' you complained, erupting a chuckle from him.

'Okay, okay.' he surrendered, I'll warm you back up real quick, baby girl' at that point he lined up his hard cock with your pussy, gathering some wetness before helping you sink down on him. You both moaned deeply, mumbling some curses.

'Fuck, Channie...so big' he hummed while kissing your neck as his hands supported the back and forth movement of your hips. You started kissing as your hips kept on going faster, then slower again, then going in circles.

After a while though, Chan seemed to notice you trying to get more stimulation to your slit, so he decided to take matter in his own hands.

'Wait, baby, hold on' he interrupted the kiss and grabbed the hem of your dress, taking it off of you and throwing it on the carpet nearby. The fact that you weren't wearing a bra was a pleseant surprise.

'No bra? Naughty girl' he smirked, making you laugh faintly. He attached his mouth to one of your nipples, sucking and licking, while he played with the other with his pointer and thumb.

'Ah-' you moaned as he grazed the nipple with his teeth lightly, 'Wait, you too' you said, this time being you to take his hoodie off. In the meantime your pussy kept grinding on his dick, a bit more lazily since your knees were kinda starting to ache a bit.

Chan seemed to remember what he wanted to do before getting distracted by your tits, so he stopped once again 'Turn around baby. Want to touch you properly' he said sweetly as he helped you change positions.

You were now sitting with your back pressed to his chest, one of his hands grabbing your breast and the other working on your clit. He was making you feel so good that your mind was starting to get a little fuzzy, your hips grinding on his cock and his fingers mindlessly.

'Yeah, just like that. So good for me, baby' he whispered into your ear, his nose pressed to the side of your head, 'Such a good fuckig girl for me' he kissed your hair, your head, your neck.

'C-Chan, baby, m' close' you whined, one of your hands covering his one on your breast, while the other was between his hair desperately holding on for dear life.

'I know baby, I know' he sped up, pounding you so quick and deep that you were seeing stars, 'Come for me, c'mon. So beautiful' he groaned.

'My beautiful, patient, amazing girl' his fingers applying some more pressure, 'Really don't deserve you' the last phrase so quiet that your fucked out mind almost didn't catch it. Almost.

'C-chan, oh my god' your back arched, moaning out his name as you came. His rythm gradually slowed down, but his thrusts were still sharp and deep.

'Come inside me, baby. Wanna feel you, need to feel you, please' you pleaded, grabbing his jaw to kiss him. He moaned into your mouth, and after a few more sharp thrusts, you felt him coming inside you.

'Yes, that's it, so good' you cooed, giving little kisses on his mouth 'Love you so much' you whispered. He smiled slightly in the kiss, hugging you tight. You moved around, getting more comfortable but still hugging each other tight and cuddling. You were left in a comfortable silence for a while.

'I heard that, you know.' you said softly, his gaze pointing down at you as his fingers still delicately caressed your arm.

'What do you mean?' he asked. You didn't look at him, concentrating on playing with his hands.

'You know exactly what I mean. Stop saying that. I mean it. I love you, and I know that you love me. There must be a reason why we're together and we work. So stop getting into your own head' your eyes locking with his. 'Promise?'

He chewed on his plump lip, definitely feeling guilty that he got scolded yet again. Naked, on his bedroom chair, after some mind blowing sex and a whole lot of feelings. In the end he sighed, nodding and planting a longing kiss on your head.

'Good. Now get me a blanket or something, I'm fucking freezing.' he laughed, bumping his head gently to yours jokingly. Then he helped you get off him and opened one of the closet's drawers and grabbed a fuzzy blanket.

'Wait for me a second, I'll get something to clean up.' he told you as he quickly put his hoodie and pants back on. You nodded as he exited the bedroom. Wrapped up in the blanket, you searched for your phone in your bag. When you found it you quickly dialed Hyunjin's number, who picked up after just a couple of rings.

'Hello?' you could hear some noise in the background, so you assumed that they were maybe in a bar or something.

'Everything's fine.' you said, sitting down to wait for Chan to come back.

'Oh, I'm glad. I knew you would make him reason' just as he said that, you clearly heard Jisung yelling 'Are you done fucking or what' with some laugh erupting.

'Oh my Gosh' you replied, embarassed while you pinched the bridge of your nose with your fingers.

'Shit! Yn, I'm so sorry about that. This motherfucker is just jealous you're getting some' he chuckled, as you heard Jisung saying something along the lines of 'Fuck you'.

'Hyunjin!' you scolded him, not being able to not laugh. They laughed.

'Sorry, sorry. We'll be back in an hour or so, bye!' and he hung up.

'You know, I would've betted on Jisung, because he's a nosy fucker.' you got startled by Chan's voice. He closed the door behind him again and scrunched down in front of you, gently helping you clean up with a warm damp towel.

'But he only talks behind people's back. Should've known it was Hyune.' he sighed. You smiled, messing with his hair.

'C'mon. You should be thankful. You started off wanting to punch a hole in the wall and now look at you'. you teased. He smirked, getting up and discarding the towel in the dirty clothes basket.

'Yeah, the power of pussy I guess' your mouth went slack, as you threw at him your previously discarded panties. He caught them, laughing hard at your outraged reaction.

'Oh so that's what I am to you, uh? Good to know, Christopher' you feigned annoyance and dramatically crossed your legs, looking away from him.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry' he laughed, coming close to grab your had in between his hands and kissing you. 'You know It's not true. Well, not only-' you gasped in shock again as he threw his head back laughing.

'You little-'

♡︎.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

That's it folks! I know it was quite a rollercoaster, but hopefully decent nonetheless. Until next time <3

#silentcryracha #stray kids bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan #skz scenarios #bang chan smut #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fanfic #bang chan x you #chan x reader #chan smut #chan skz #skz imagines #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff

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steviewashere · 3 months ago

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Don't Dish What You Can't Serve

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Sexual Harassment (Not Between Main Pairing), Chewing Tobacco, Gross Shit Happens That I Can't Say Because It Spoils The PlotTags: Different First Meeting AU, No Upside Down AU, No Supernatural AU, Steve Never Became Friends With Tommy and Carol, Hurt/Comfort, Tommy Hagan Being an Asshole, Tommy Hagan is a Piece of Shit Here, Waiter Steve Harrington, Line Cook Eddie Munson, They Work at Benny's, So This is an AU Where Benny's Never Closed, Protective Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Gets Revenge, Steve is a College Student (But That's Not Entirely Important Here), '86 Was Eddie's Year

🥤——————🥤 Steve picks up a new job in the summer of 1986, waiting tables. The job at Family Video fell through and it just didn’t pay enough. He was starting his first year at the local college soon and he desperately needed the money. Especially since his parents cut him off, sighting his one gap year as enough reason. And so he goes to Benny’s, fills out an application and turns it in the same day. Back at his apartment, also the same day, he gets hired on. Alongside another guy around his age, one he recognizes from high school as Eddie Munson—who must’ve finally finished his time as a senior and now just needed to work.

Neither of them really talk to each other outside of putting orders in and taking orders out. Maybe occasionally scolding the other because—“You didn’t ask how rare he wanted his steak, Harrington? How the hell am I supposed to make it then?” and “Munson, you forgot the fucking ketchup on this asshole’s cheeseburger and now he won’t shut the fuck up about it. Fix this, please for the love of god.”

So, sure, they don’t get along all that well all the time. They’re not friends. More so just acquaintances. And so they don't really talk.

However, that changes one evening.

It’s a couple weeks before the upcoming school year is supposed to start. Hawkins, Indiana is one of those little college towns. Meaning, the new students were finally moving, coming around, getting to know where they now lived. And that includes one particular customer, Tommy Hagan, and his girlfriend, Carol Perkins. They’ve been coming in since mid-July, despite the new year starting in September, despite move-in dates set in late August. Every Sunday, Steve sees their pinched, smarmy, cocky faces. And every Sunday, they always cause some sort of issue.

The first time, Tommy spilled his soda all over the tiled restaurant floor. Claimed it was an accident, but Steve saw him. He saw the guy push his cup over the edge. Heard him snicker as Steve bent down to wipe it up, as he stood back up and plastered on a tight smile, promising that he’d get him a new soda right away. Flushed with shame as Tommy laughed and laughed and laughed his ass off about the, “Guy with the big stupid eyes and no thoughts in his head” and how he, “Probably doesn’t have much going for him if he’s working in a place like this.”

A riddle and game, that’s what it was. Steve would welcome them, take their orders, put them in for Eddie to make, drop the food off, and be at their service if something went wrong. Which was always. And he’d endure the stupid comments Tommy would make when he wasn’t in earshot. Spanning from how incompetent their waiter was—“He’s always screwing something up, swear to god. Don’t even know how he’s holding a job here, jeez.”—to how big of a manwhore he is because of how tight his work pants were. As if Steve would ever be catching tail in his stupid slacks, always stained with food and sticky soda by the end of the night, and the same pants that give him wedgies if he doesn’t make them sit right on his waist. All in all, Tommy is their worst customer. But it’s just a job, Steve always thought, it’ll get better at some point. Tommy will eventually start classes and leave me alone.

Then, of course, comes the Sunday a couple weeks before the new school year. Tommy is alone this time. No Carol on his arm. He just slides into one of the booths and watches Steve work until he approaches. And immediately, something is terribly off about this encounter.

“Welcome to Benny’s, can I get any drinks started for you?” Steve asks. His script. Customer service voice pitchy and monotone as it drips from his mouth.

Tommy doesn’t answer for several moments. Leaving Steve to stand and loom and stare. To smile and squirm. As he rakes his eyes so unnoticeably over all of Steve’s frame. His tongue trails along the inside of his lower lip, eyes heated, a gross smirk on his face. Smarmy.

“Bet you’d look good without that dumb frilly apron around your waist,” Tommy teases. It’s half-flirtatious, Steve thinks. But all the same creepy and…predatory.

“Excuse me?” He can only respond.

The asshole hums, assessing. Repeats himself. And adds, “You’d make better tips, too. Maybe put some gloss on your lips, a tighter shirt, no apron…yeah…vision’s coming together, baby. Could make everybody your bitch when you serve them.” He stares for a second longer. Rests his face in his left hand and flutters his eyes at Steve. “Can I get my usual, pretty boy? And one of those strawberry milkshakes.”

Steve writes the order down on his little notepad, shifting foot to foot. His stomach twists and knots. Brain still whirling at what Tommy said, unable to retort. Doesn’t even know how to really feel. Not flattered, that’s for sure. Slimy…that seems like a good enough substitute for the emotions mildewing in his chest.

“Y’know,” Tommy continues, voice sticky the way humidity is—uncomfortable—“I see how hard you work around here sometimes, even if you are pretty bad at it. Swear I can see the cogs just clogging up in your head. If you wanna give that pea brain of yours a moment to relax, you could share that drink with me. Maybe I’ll tip you real good this time, baby.”

He shifts again. Hands clammy and bile in the back of his throat. Steve swallows hard, thinks he stutters something out akin to, “I’ll be back with your order,” and promptly disappears into the kitchen.

The door swings closed behind him. And he’s not really looking, not paying attention. Just trying to get away from the residue left in Tommy’s air of existence. In the seconds between entering the kitchen and trying to storm away, he runs into somebody. An exerted grunt, raspy and deep, sounds out in front of him.

“Hey! Watch”—the person gently grabs him by the shoulders and leads them somewhere that he can’t really register. In a softer voice, no longer agitated, “Steve? Hey, man, y’alright?”

Steve sniffles. It’s then that he recognizes the heat in his cheeks, overwhelmingly hot and itchy. The scalding of tears. A pinch behind his eyes. There’s a soft cushion underneath him, the telltale creak of one of the older dining chairs. The air smells like garlic and grease, but a breeze catches over his exposed forearms—most likely from an air conditioning unit. He’s in the break room, he can finally notice. And break he does.

“That asshole is back,” he garbles, “and he”—hiccup—“he’s being really gross to me.”

The person crouches down in front of him, putting them eye-to-eye. And he knows immediately that it’s Eddie. Long hair pulled up into as neat of a bun as he can manage. A group of pitch black bats on pale skin. Dark brown eyes, shifting back and forth between his own with a mixture of concern and anger.

“What’d he say to you, Steve?”

He sniffs again, trying to gain some composure before he inevitably has a full-blown breakdown. Inevitable because he always has one when he goes home to his apartment, but it might happen here, and he can’t afford to let it happen here. Not today, at least, not now.

“Calling me…calling me baby and pretty boy. And he—he’s trying to make me share his stupid milkshake and he calls me stupid—that I have a…a fucking pea brain. Eddie, he calls me stupid every single time he comes in and I just—he’s just—I can’t”—

Eddie runs his warm hands up and down his biceps, gently pushing the fabric of his quarter sleeve, too. He shushes low and whispered. Murmurs, “I don’t want you to go back out there without me, alright?” His eyes dart back and forth between Steve’s wet ones once more. One of his hands leaves and digs into his back pocket, producing a black bandana. And he carefully brings it up close, patting it over Steve’s blotchy cheeks. “You don’t deserve that, Steve,” he whispers, “and I’ll make sure he gets what he deserves. Just wait back here for a bit and I’ll get his order done.”

Steve nods slow and heavy. Wipes the heel of his palm roughly over his eyes—to which Eddie tuts at and firmly drags it away, replacing it with the worn, soft fabric of that bandana. “Sorry that I ran into you at the door,” he says quietly.

“I’m glad you did. Because I’m going to make sure that asshole never bothers you again. ‘M sick of hearing what he does to you every single time he comes in.” Eddie stands up, but leaves the bandana to dangle in Steve’s loose grip. A tentative stroke through Steve’s hair, something he usually wouldn’t allow, but it’s too nice to turn down. “We’ll put him up on the wall, too. That bastard can suck a fucking egg.”

He laughs at that, or at least something like a laugh. It’s brittle, airy, but genuine. And watches Eddie go.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, though, Eddie wanders back into the break room and drags them back towards the milkshake blender in the kitchen. He has the ingredients all laid out next to the machine: vanilla ice cream, a gallon of milk, some freshly chopped strawberries, the can of whipped cream, and the glass itself. Adds the milk and the ice cream, but then stops abruptly, turning to dig something out of his pocket.

“What’re you doing?” Steve quietly asks, worried to be overheard through the ticket window.

“Oh, just some good ol’ payback,” Eddie answers, something darker than mirth in his tone. What he produces from his pocket is a can of chewing tobacco. The nasty menthol kind, too. He shakes the little tin in his hand, the tobacco thunking against the lid of the container. And then he twists the cap off, plucks a quarter sized amount, and stuffs the wad between his bottom teeth and lower lip. Mouth literally bulging with the tobacco. “We’ll blend this shit first,” he whispers, scheming, “add the strawberries. Then, comes the grand finale.”

Steve side eyes Eddie. His deft fingers flittering over the buttons of the blender, scooping out the strawberries with the same hand he picked up tobacco with. He grimaces, but doesn’t comment on that. “Grand finale?”

“One of the biggest fears that customers have when they go into any restaurant is that the waiter is going to spit in their food,” he nonchalantly explains, capping the blender, “though, a lot of them don’t consider the line cook. Or at least, the rude ones don’t.” Eddie shifts something in his mouth, what sounds like the slosh of thick saliva. “He’ll probably complain, but it’s not like he’ll be believed. It’s a safety hazard, sure. But nobody suspects the cook because they’re supposed to know that shit. A cook spitting in a patron’s food? No way, man. That shit’s taboo.”

“And if he is believed?”

Eddie merely shrugs. “Then I get fired. But it’s whatever. I’m already on my way out anyway, got enough money for what I need.”

Before Steve can ask or get in response, Eddie’s blasting the blender. It chugs and churns the half cup of milk and the measly two scoops of ice cream. The strawberries burst and bleed juice throughout, mixture turning pink. And with a few shakes, a half-way pit stop to unclog the bigger chunks, and a go-about with the partially dysfunctional blades—Eddie chucks the lid off, unlocks the pitcher from the machine, and turns away from Steve.

“I’m gonna have the good graces to not make you watch this shit,” Eddie gives as an explanation, “y’may wanna cover your ears.” Steve doesn’t, though wishes he did. With a cough and a semi-gag, Eddie inhales and burbles the saliva in the back of his mouth. He can hear the way the tobacco spit dribbles from between Eddie’s lips, the way it plops into the blended mixture, and the last little dredges left in his mouth. Steve’s stomach turns, but he doesn’t stop it. Doesn’t step in.

Eddie turns back around with the blender. Sitting on top of the pink mix is one quarter sized glob of tobacco and saliva, the spit already spilling down the sides of the pitcher. “Ta-da!” Eddie exclaims, shaking the pitcher back and forth. “And that is what I like to call the revenge special. Half cup milk, two scoops of vanilla ice cream, four chopped strawberries, and a fantastical exported ingredient from the land of your’s truly. It may be a seasonal item, but it’s got the gust of something that’ll last a lifetime.”

“God…that is disgusting,” Steve mock-whispers. “You’re a fucking genius.”

“Thank you, it’s one of my many tricks.” He sets the blender down onto the metal counter, a hard thunk that rattles the milkshake glass. “Now, do me a favor and pour that into the glass, get him one of those stupid striped straws, spray it up with some whip. And I’ll dish up his monstrosity of a cheeseburger.” Eddie’s eyes soften away from the mirth they previously had. His voice dropping low, too. “I’ll deliver it, too, by the way. I would never throw you under the bus for something gross like this. This should hopefully get him to stay away, though. If he does complain about you and you have to flee, I’ll help you find a new job.”

“I could just say I did it, y’know,” Steve tentatively says, “that I fucked up his drink. You don’t need to lose your job because of issues I’m having.”

“You were crying, Steve,” Eddie points out gently. “Nobody makes my waiters cry. And nobody gets away with it, either.” He slinks away from Steve without another word and without another word getting in. And Steve watches him for a long moment. As he busies himself around his workspace, tidied and organized the way he needs it. The flex of his muscles as he flips and cuts and assembles that cheeseburger. His baby hairs at the crown of his head getting stuck to his sweaty temples, hard work painting and furrowing his brows.

But when he’s caught staring, Eddie simply and softly smiles, gestures at the blender, and turns back to his plate. So, Steve does what he’s told. Assembles the nail to his coffin, one pour and spray and straw at a time. And walks out of the kitchen, behind Eddie’s flexing back, his grease stained and sweat drenched white t-shirt. He sits at the front counter, in one of the old, flaking barstools. Watches.

Tommy looks up at Eddie from his spot in the booth, eyes wide as he sees Eddie take a seat across from him. He grimaces and sours. “You aren’t that waiter. Who the fuck are”—

“Heard you like milkshakes,” Eddie drawls. “Thought maybe I could get your opinion on a new recipe I’m trying. It’s strawberry, don’t worry your preppy little chinos off. But there’s been a slight change, was wondering what you’d think about it.”

Across the table, Tommy gives Eddie an odd glance. “Is it that important that you watch me? Surely I could’ve just sent my compliments to you or whatever when I’m done.”

“Nah, I like getting it straight from the source. So, go ahead, take a sip. Tell me what you think.”

Steve has to physically draw himself back, has to swallow down the gag and bile working their way through him, and genuinely convulses back against the counter as Tommy takes his first, long, hard sip of the milkshake. His face doesn’t move much with the sip, but he does scowl a tad, grimacing with a slight twitch in his upper lip.

“Tastes sour,” Tommy comments.

Eddie hums. “But is it good? Sometimes sour’s a good thing.” He reaches across the table, then, and plucks up Tommy’s cheeseburger. Crosses one arm across his chest, hand resting on his opposite bicep, and brings the food up to his mouth, taking a hearty bite.

“Hey!” Tommy exclaims, “that’s my cheeseburger, man! You can’t just”—

“Get a second sip and maybe I’ll consider remaking your food.” Eddie smugly watches Tommy take another deep swallow. His eyes cast at the glass, roaming at the little brown flecks in the shake. Knowing and proud. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“I mean it’s…objectively, I guess it’s good. Can I get a new burger, man? I’m starving here and I’ve got a date with my girlfriend in thirty minutes.”

All at once, Steve’s heart enters his stomach. Eddie takes another large bite of the burger before replacing it on Tommy’s plate. He crosses his arms against the top of the table, fingers tucked securely in the creases of his elbows. Leans all the way across until he’s nearly nose to nose with Tommy.

“So, could you taste what was different? Could your pea brain discern the new flavor on your tongue?” He asks, smarmy as Tommy has ever been. Over-confident, yet satisfied.

Tommy’s eyes widen at his words being thrown back in his face, startles against the back of his booth. Fingers gripping to the edge of the table, cheeks going pale. “I…I don’t”—

“Spit.”

“Wh—What?”

“Spit,” Eddie repeats coldly. “You just drank my fucking tobacco spit.” Silence. And then, “How’d I taste, baby? Be honest. Was it everything you’d ever hope it would be with a man?”

More silence. Tense and thick, enough that it weighs on Steve’s shoulders across the way. However, Tommy finally registers what just happened. He gags hard, hand covering his curdled mouth. Behind it, muffled, he says, “You’re sick in the head. I’ll—I’ll fucking tell your boss. You’ll fucking regret this.” And he stands up on shaky legs, dashing away before he can vomit all over himself.

Eddie only watches him leave, satisfied and content. He looks back to Steve, grins. “I can’t wait to see his girlfriend’s face when she finds out he isn’t allowed back.”

Steve nervously giggles and crosses to the booth, sliding in where Tommy just was. “You’re insane,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, but it worked, didn’t it? Too bad he didn’t leave a tip. There is a cheeseburger if you want the rest of it. Promise I didn’t fuck with that.” Eddie’s eyes are on him, soft and thoughtful, watching him pick up the partially eaten burger. “I can make you a new one instead, if you’d prefer. Extra cheese, too.”

“Trying to get in all the cooking you can before this inevitably backfires?”

“Sure…or I’m trying to make sure you’re taken care of. One in the same, I suppose. So, provolone, right? Could even combine some of the cheese if you want. Pepper jack and havarti…colby jack and swiss. Take your pick.”

Steve glances up from the plate in front of him. Heart beating fast and chest gooey as Eddie looks onto him with something like reverence. “Provolone, please,” he requests quietly, “and can I get extra crunchy crinkle fries, too?”

Reaching out a hand, Eddie gently pats the back of Steve’s left. “You got it, baby”—he hisses—“I probably shouldn’t call you that. I’m so”—

“It’s alright,” Steve murmurs, “I…uh…I don’t mind if it’s you.”

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, then stands from the other side of the bench. “You’re gonna give me a hero complex and an ego, Stevie.” He begins to retreat towards the kitchen, calling out about bringing the dishes back when he’s done, that the milkshake could just be tossed glass and all.

But Steve stops him with, “Hey, Eddie?” Is met again with those soft, dark brown eyes. “Thank you,” he quietly says, “I never thought I’d get him away from me. Means a lot that you helped.”

There’s a soft smile on Eddie’s face, one that Steve can’t help but return.

“Anything for you, man.”

He makes Eddie stop again, though. To gaze, to drink in that tight white t-shirt and the spatter of black ink on his arms, his heavy pretty curls, and that soft face of his. “When we finish closing up for the night, do you wanna come over to mine? I’ve got a rented copy of Empire Strikes Back and a few beers. Only if you”—

“I’d love to, Steve. Now let me make you your food, sweetheart. Before you gobble me up with that hungry stare of yours.”

🥤——————🥤

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #tommy hagan #hurt/comfort #waiter steve harrington #line cook eddie munson

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shinybearnerd · 1 year ago

Text

"Healing Wings"

GOOD OMENS SEASON 2! SPOILER WARNING! IF YOU DID SEE IT YET, DO NOT INTERACT!

Hi!

So, I'm a mess since I finished the new season.

I tried to cope by writing something (since I'll be pretty busy for all of August). And this is the result.

Justice for my boy! He deserved his happy ending.

I wanted to thank everyone that send me requests. As I said before, I'm a bit busy but once I'll have some time, I'll write. Promise.

Enjoy!

Pair: Crowley x reader

(Hints of: Aziraphale x reader, Aziraphale x Crowley, Aziraphale x reader x Crowley)

Words: 2,8k

Genre: Smut +18, fluff and angst

Story: when Aziraphale goes away to become the archangel in heaven, Y/n and Crowley find themselves alone. They both with a feeling of abandonment. As they lean on each other for support, their relationship blossoms deeper.

English is not my first language. I'm sorry if there're any mistakes.

The ride to your house is quiet.

You don't remember much about what happened earlier. You only recall screaming at Aziraphale for deciding to go away and leaving you and Crowley alone. His eyes were covered in tears.

<< Y/n, I can- >>

<< Do not fucking bother! Go on. Go play with your little mates. Is what you wanted after all, right? >> You cut him off, returning to Crowley.

The demon looks at the scene inside the car. He doesn't hear what you are saying but can imagine by the looks of you and the angel. He even doesn't say anything about it once you step inside the car. He only starts the engine and begins to drive.

Once you arrive, you convince Crowley to come inside without effort. Once you lock the door behind you, you see him. Sitting on the sofa. He stares blankly in front of him. Or at least you think so. He didn't take off his glasses or have any intention to.

You walk towards him without saying a word. When you take your first step, it seems like he only notices your presence at that moment.

You walk to him. Crowley's gaze fixed on you, making you feel exposed.

You're now in front of him. You try to say something, but he makes the first move by hugging your legs and placing his head on your stomach. He's tired. You both are.

You remain like this for a few minutes. You caress his red hair and try not to cry, as he enjoys your touch.

He then looks up at you.

You're starting to feel a particular jolt invading your body. Something that grows deeper when the demon stands up and obscures you with his height.

He takes your chin, his thumb exploring your lips. He then kisses you. It's a needy one. A desperate one.

You start to undress one another, but when you try to take his glasses, he freezes.

<< I... I prefer to leave them on. >>

Once Nina and Maggie get out, you pop out from your hiding spot.

Crowley hears your movement but doesn't say a word. Too scared about your reaction to actually do something.

He listens. Listen to the way your clothes sound when they rub against each other. Listen to your increased heartbeat and your hitching breath, wishing he could feel it against his skin while-

<< Is it true? >> You finally take some courage.

Crowley physically can't turn to look at you, like something is blocking him. But he manages to stand up and put on his glasses. And suddenly, he feels like he can at least try.

When he turns around, your heart sinks a little.

<< No, please... >>

<< What? >>

You try to reach, but he takes a step behind, trying to have some space between you two.

<< You know that you don't need those >> you point at the black lenses << when you are with me. We've already been through this. Remember? >>

<>

You sigh, knowing that he's too stubborn to listen. So you ask again, trying to look into his eyes. << Is it true? >>

The demon doesn't respond.

<< It's pretty easy, Crowley. It's a "yes" or "no" answer... >>

Your voice seemed calm and amused by all of this, trying to ease the mood. But every fibre of your body tried to remain calm and not rush things.

Something was still blocking him. His pride, maybe. Or even the fear of you rejecting him. He doesn't know which.

<< I'm sorry... I-I can't. >>

He tries to exit the bookshop, but you stop him.

<< Where are you going? Hold on! Why can't you say it? What's wrong? >>

<< Because-... Fuck! >>

He walks in the room, stomping his feet like a wild horse that's been caught and imprisoned. He's trying to focus on something that isn't you and elaborate a clever way out. He's a demon, after all. He's the master of lying.

He can do this. But once he turns to look at you, he suddenly can't lie to you anymore.

<< Because it's true, Y/n! There. I said it! >>

Your heart is bursting, but you let him talk first. You feel like he needs to.

<< You don't understand how you made me feel in all these years we knew each other! I only thought that Aziraphale would be the lo... >> he sighs, trying to calm himself by rubbing his eyes. << But then you came along. So full of life and wonder, and it j-just... happened!- >>

In the beginning, he's doubtful. The poor devil thought that was an act of pity towards him, but once he comprehend that you're not going to leave soon, he deepens it. A rush of emotions adds to the kiss. Passion, desperation and relief. All put in Crowley's kiss, who is touching and hugging you like you'll disappear.

You don't even spend time saying something. You've already waited enough.

With big steps, you end your distance. You take the demon's sunglasses with one hand while the other takes the head, smashing your lips together.

You start to caress each other. Your hair, your back, your arms... All you two can reach has been touched and loved.

<< Please tell me this is not a dream and that I'm not gonna wake up in the Bentley with a boner... >> he whispered on your lips between a kiss and another.

You smirk against his mouth while pressing yourself towards him.

<> You replied, touching his clothed erection.

The demon growls, squishing the flesh of your hips under his fingers.

<< You're playing with fire, doll. >>

His pushes are erratic and hopeless. Like he can release all that pain he's feeling.

But suddenly his pushes stop. You feel his hold tightening as he's afraid to lose you too. Little and muffled sobs start to fill the air as the demon tries to hold you as close as possible.

<< Crowley? >>

You caress his head, trying to escape his grip to look at him.

<< I'm sorry... >> he muffles in tears.

His head is against your chest. Tears are starting to wet your skin.

<< Hey... No, no, no. Hey, look at me. Please, look at me, Crowley... >>

You take off his glasses. Once you look at his eyes, your stomach tightens. His eyes are full of sorrow, ache and distress. And it all makes you feel awful. It's like you can't do anything to make him feel better...

You manage to take his face in your hand. You voluntarily start to caress his cheeks with your thumbs while you look into each other's eyes. And what you see breaks your heart.

Crowley's lips are a little parted, quick breaths leaving and entering his mouth. His cheeks are starting to get wet too. The eyebrows narrowed in an expression of pain.

The demon makes a face, like he has something to say about that, but you don't give him the chance.

<< I-I'm sorry. I should not... >>

He tries to avoid eye contact.

<< No, hey... Hey. It's okay, darling. It's not your fault. >>

<< But it is! >> He finally looks at you. << If I wasn't the way I am, maybe Aziraphale- >>

<< Do not dare finish what you are about to say! >> You snap.

Your voice is trembling with anger and pain. How could he think that?

<< I don't know what that idiot was thinking. But he shouldn't have said that! And mostly, you mustn't even consider that! How could you even think that there's something wrong with you? That you're the messed up one?

<< Every time I look at you, I fall in love with you even more. I love everything about you! How you say that you're evil and not nice after saying or doing the sweetest and most beautiful things that even an angel can't do! You are infinitely better than a legion of angels. Aziraphale included. >>

<< Aziraphale does not define you, my love. I know that it fucking hurts. Him choosing heaven over us hurt me, and I can't imagine how heartbroken you must feel right now... But he had no right to tell you to change for him. Love is not like that. Love is not changing the other person. Love is feeling like you own the fucking world! Like you've been struck by lightning every time you see them... Love is supposed to make you feel like this. >>

You take his hand and place it against your chest. Your heartbeat is accelerated. The demon can feel it under his hand and thinks it's the most beautiful music he's ever listened to in centuries.

Your eyes lock one last time. Every limb of your body is linked to the other, trying both be close.

You discover that you're crying once Crowley slowly slides his hand from your chest, then to your neck and to one of your cheeks, wiping the tears from your skin. He then cups your head with both hands, leaning closer to kiss the new tears forming. Your eyes are closed. You try to enjoy this moment that you indulge with the other. You put your hands on Crowley's wrists, rubbing them with your thumbs. Suddenly you feel something odd.

<< You have a heartbeat... >>

You open your eyes only to see that Crowley is already looking at you.

Under your fingers, you can feel his fast heartbeat.

<>

<< In your defence, I didn't tell you... >> replied, starting to wander his hand along your hips. He felts like the luckiest entity in the entire universe.

<< Is it supposed to be this rapid? >>

You see him smile a little, then look at your eyes.

<< Didn't you say that love was supposed to feel like that? >>

Crowley leans closer, one hand on your hair. Once your lips meet, you feel fireworks spreading all over you. The demon's lips are so soft against yours. Kissing you with gentleness as if you were made out of porcelain.

You blush and smile.

He does the same. The first real smile after Aziraphale's departure, even if it's little.

His trusts are slow but deep.

Then, he slips the other hand around your hips, bringing you close as he thrusts deep inside you. A moan dies in your mouth.

Crowley smirks a little before he resumes kissing you. His hands are both on your hips as he's helping you move.

Your eyes are locked as your messy breaths get mixed. Sometimes you kiss, but you prefer to look at each other. You can't explain why. You just feel a deeper connection between you. Like you are making love with your souls too.

-.-.-.-.-.-

You continue moving without saying a word. Smiling, touching, squeezing and scratching (on your part) one another.

And when you come, it's like you feel complete and truly loved.

Your foreheads touch as you start panting and giggling.

Moments before, after you got dressed, you asked your favourite demon if he could pick a movie while you were calling your favourite takeaway restaurant.

<< What are you doing? >>

Crowley quickly turns towards you. A pillow is still in his hands.

Once the call ended, you saw his figure walk the hallway one last time before disappearing. You came to understand that he went outside, in the garden. You decide to sneak out and follow him.

As you were talking with one of the staff, in the corner of your eye, you could see Crowley walking the hallway front and back multiple times. Different things in his hands every time he passed in front of you.

You were so curious and amused that you almost forgot you were ordering food.

Under the moon's soft light, you can see that the grass is covered with blankets and pillows. Over them, there's a bottle of wine and two glasses; while the outside was filled with battery candles.

You can't move or form a single sentence. Your mouth, on the other hand, is curved in the most beautiful smile the demon has ever seen.

Crowley's now looking at you. A nervous smile on his lips.

<< Surprise!>> He throws the pillow on the blankets with the others. << Do you like it? >>

<< I-I... don't know what to say.>>

He walked closer, putting his hands on your hips. <> he smugly smirks as he hears your chuckle.

-.-.-.-.-.-

With a snap, the two glasses get filled. Crowley passes you one. << What do you say? >>

<< I'm all yours.>>

He smiles at you and kisses you passionately.

<< You know... I've always wanted to ask something. >>

You two have just finished eating and are now on the blankets, cuddling and trying to get drunk.

Crowley has spent all dinner talking about the stars. He also told you about his time as a nebula creator. You could see a sparkle in his eyes as he spoke. Some sadness behind it, too. Even if he tried to hide it.

Crowley was amused by all of this.

<< Shoot. >>

<< What's it like having someone making up stories about your work? You know, the constellations and so on... >>

<< Oh. Well... I don't mind. It's like reading- What is that you read... Ehm... -Yes! Fanfiction. It's like reading a fanfiction. I don't mind. >>

You chuckle, a little flustered. <>

He brings the glass to his lips. << Oh yes, you do! Every time I see you with your phone and reading something, you always giggle and kick your feet- >>

<< How dare you! I do not! >>

<< Oh, yes, you do! >>

You laugh. Your face turn all red by now. << You liar! >>

You both chuckle and lean against the other. The demon's free hand is now running up and down your arm. His head is on yours as he leaves a kiss.

<< Thank you. >> you said, breaking the silence. <>

Crowley smiles, proud of himself. << Glad you like it. >>

He put his glass near yours and made them touch. A little high-pitched "tin" followed after. << To the perfect night. >>

<< But I have to admit... >> You continue, teasingly raising an eyebrow. << you seemed flustered when I found you setting all up.>>

<< Flustered? Me? Nonsense!>>

You chuckle, leaning in to peck him on the cheek. Your affectionate gaze never leaves his.

He couldn't help but smile, feeling a warmth in his heart that had nothing to do with the wine.

<< Jokes aside, you know how to make a moment last forever.>>

Crowley looks at the wine in his glass. A soft and smug smile on his face.

<< Well, I must admit, this wasn't originally on my plan... >> he confesses.

<< What do you mean? >>

Crowley shifted slightly, trying to find the right words to explain himself.

<> He admitted, his voice soft and hesitant. <>

A suffering smile is on his face as he gunks down his wine.

<> he softly admitted, looking at his empty glass before grabbing the bottle. << You know... after a week of... well, hell. >> He pours the rubin liquor. << For you. For me... for him. For us. >>

You take his hand and kiss it. << Well, I must say, this night picnic under the stars was a perfect first day. >>

He looks at you, uncertain. << Really? >>

You kiss him and nod, smiling. << Today was hard... >>

<< Yep. >> he takes another sip of wine and clicks his tongue.

<< But this has been the best date I have ever been to! >>

He smiles, looks again into your eyes and says only two words: << Thank you. >>

You know that he's not talking about the date.

You kiss him again and look at him, stroking his tattoed cheek.

<< Don't even mention it. >>

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amethystwrytes · 3 months ago

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Of Course, Professor (Drabble)

Pairing: Professor! Lee Know x Female Reader

Genre: Romantic. Smut. Fluff.

Summary: A spicy but sweet night at home.

Warnings: Explicit language and explicit depictions of sex.

WC: 950

A/N: I was originally going to end the main story with some 🌶️ but I changed my mind and never finished the scene. You all voted for spicy domestic fluff over raunchy, totally unethical office smut - which btw I'm proud af of you all lmaooo - so here it is.

“What are you working on?” Minho asks as he sits beside you on the couch with a pile of papers in his lap.

You look up from your sketchbook and shrug, “I’m trying to sketch out some ideas, I’d like to put some original paintings in my classroom as decoration.”

He looks over your shoulder onto the notebook in front of you, “I like all the different shapes in this one.”

“I like it too,” you turn your head and peck his lips with yours, “I think I’m going to do it in really bright, bold colors. The kids will like it.”

“They’ll love it,” he smiles, “Are you nervous for school to start?”

“No,” you say sheepishly then chuckle, “but yes. It’s been a while since I was in a classroom, and when I was I was still a student, with a veteran teacher to correct my mistakes - being in a room alone, with no one there to fix it if I mess up is intimidating. Then again, it’s just art, how bad could I possibly fuck them up?” you laugh and Minho chuckles too.

“It’s not just art,” he takes your sketchbook and starts flipping through, “To at least one of those children, it’s going to be the most important class they ever take. Years - decades - from now they’ll remember what they learned from the teacher who taught them that their art mattered, that it was important. They’ll think of you every time they pick up a brush, or pencil and I can’t think of a more perfect person for the job.”

You stare at him, a soft smile playing at your lips.

“What?” he grins back, “Is there something on my face?”

You shake your head and crawl over him, pushing his paperwork to the side, your legs straddling his lap and you take his face in your hands.

“I just can’t believe there was a time when I didn’t know how sweet and soft you were,” you tell him, pressing your lips against his.

“Mmm,” he moans into your mouth, “I am not.”

“You are.”

He tosses you over onto your back and you giggle, “And I can’t believe you ever thought you were going to be a lawyer,” he clicks his teeth and sorts his papers back in order, shaking them at you, “No discipline at all. Your classes don’t begin until August, but some of us are teaching Summer classes and Sunday is my day to grade…”

As he lectures you, you slide your shorts and underwear off. When he looks back his eyes go dark as you allow your knees to gently fall apart.

He makes a raspy sound in his throat as his eyes narrow, “No fucking discipline…” he mutters, tossing the papers on the coffee table.

“Then teach me some, Professor,” you bite your lip.

He chuckles as he pulls his shirt over his head, “A pointless endeavor. I spoil you is what I do,” he grins, situating himself between your legs. He begins kissing the inside of your thighs, the cool air hitting your center tells you you’re already soaked.

He dips a finger into your cunt and twists, your hips come off the couch and you sigh. He continues to pump you while his tongue paints swirls of pleasure over every centimeter of your pussy. He’s so fucking good. You find yourself burying your fingers in his hair, latching him onto you as you move your hips with his mouth as the pleasure builds. Every time he eats you out you try to hold it, to stop yourself from coming just to bask in how good his tongue feels on you, but maybe he’s right - you have no discipline. You spread your legs as far as they go and stiffen, your orgasm hitting you in rhythmic waves.

“More,” you manage to squeak out.

“Spoiled,” he whispers back, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm as he pulls the rest of his clothes off and resumes his place between your legs.

He grabs your hands and holds them in place above your head, his lips come down on one of your nipples and he gently sucks and licks wide languid strokes over the sensitive bud. You squirm beneath him, needing to feel him inside you. Finally he relents, and removes his mouth from your breast, still stiffly holding your hands while he pushes into you.

He pauses for a moment, even all these months later both of you still need a second to adapt to him deep inside you. It’s more than a physical connection of body parts, it feels incendiary, it feels right - it feels like love.

You wrap your legs around his hips so he can go as deep as he needs to, his open mouth against your neck spilling rapid breaths and dirty, sexy secrets. You know he’s close, so you lift your hips slightly because you’re so in tune with him that you know it will hit just right, know it will push you over the edge too and he needs it.

When the coil all wound up inside you springs, you spasm around him and he moans, freezing all movement except for the throbbing of his cock spilling inside you. He remains on top of you for several moments, letting his breath return to normal. He lets go of your fists and slides his palm over yours, lacing your fingers together as he plants kisses along your cheek and jawline, his cock softening inside your body.

“I love you,” he whispers against your temple, eyes closed.

You use your free hand to wipe his sweaty bangs from his face, you kiss his nose and lips, “I love you too Minho.”

THE END

Endnotes:

Thank you for reading, and here's your virtual smooooooch 😘

My Sluts for Minho tag list / people who asked to be tagged in pt 2: @katieraven , @linocz , @screamobubbles , @hpnsfwaddict , @simpforleeknaur also @moni-logues (so she doesn’t send me threatening discord messages 😂) …If I missed you somehow I’m sorry, I’ve got zero organization methods when approaching tag lists and relied on re-reading the replies on the main fic to remember who asked, so if you asked a different way it probably got lost in my brain 🙃

#skz fanfiction #lee minho fanfiction #skz smut #Lee minho smut #lee know fanfiction #skz romance #Lee minho romance #lee know x reader #Drabble #romantic #fluffy

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sunsetkerr · 10 months ago

Text

THE SHOWER | s.kerr

summary: caitlin, alannah and mackenzie have taken it upon themselves to plan yours and sam's baby shower.. what could go wrong?! [1.9k words]

pairing: fem!reader x sam kerr (sweet nora universe)

notes: trying to cheer myself up after sam doing her acl, I hope it cheers you all up too. I missed nora lots and lots.

august 2019, 3 months pregnant

IF THERE WERE THREE PEOPLE THAT you would never trust to plan literally anything, it would be Alanna, Mackenzie and Caitlin. The three of them together are like a taking time bomb that just cannot wait to go off. They are loud, messy, chaotic and almost always in disarray.

So when Sam came to you in the third month of your pregnancy and say that the three of them wanted to be the ones to plan your baby shower, you could've fainted then and there.

Sure, Sam had known the three of them for a long time. They were all really close friends of both you and Sam. Sam had been playing with Caitlin since she was 15, she was in your wedding for god's sake- it wasn't a far fetched idea to have them want to do something so big for you both. But with the three of them together, you weren't really sure how successful your baby shower would be.

You and Sam were completely shut out of the planning side of things. They told you nothing, and you mean literally nothing. Alanna had made the invites before even asking (or telling) Sam if they could plan the shower, claiming that she had an untapped passion for graphic design or something like that. All the information on there was all you got.

The shower was going to be held at your home in Perth during Matildas camp for the World Cup. That way all of Sam's teammates could be there and so could your families. A few of Sam's teammates from Chicago would fly out, Mackenzie ensuring their arrivals. By the time the shower came around you had been shunned away to Sam's parents house to get ready for your day.

Alanna had taken the liberty of finding you a dress, knowing exactly the kind of clothes that you would feel comfortable but confident in at 3 months pregnant. You slipped on your outfit and were subtly impressed with what Alanna had chosen for you.

"Wow, hello you" You couldn't help yourself but to let a smile fall upon your lips as Sam wolf-whistled at you as she came into her old bedroom. You were stood in front of the mirror, fixing up your hair before you left for the baby shower. Sam was dressed in a beige button up shirt with a pattern on it paired with some white linen shorts that you loved her in. She looked so gorgeous.

"Do you like it?" You asked, giving her a little spin.

"You look incredibly beautiful" She nodded softly as she grabbed hold of your hips and pulled you in closer. She placed a quick kiss on your lips before pulling away and hovering over them again. "Like stunning" She whispered, before kissing you again.

"I love you" You leant your forehead against hers, not wanting this moment to pass from you both.

"I love you more" She smiled.

"Are you two ready to head off?" Rox called up the stairs. You were driving in with Rox and Maddie, who were both waiting for you two downstairs.

"Yep! Give us like five minutes" Sam called back. You chuckled and leant into her embrace, leaning against her as she held you tight.

"Are you excited?" Sam said quietly, trying her best to saviour your time together before you went into a sea of people for the late morning.

"I'm more so nervous to see what they've done to our house" You closed your eyes and imagined the chaos that could only be caused by Cait, Alanna and Mackenzie.

"It's just a brunch babe" Sam kissed your forehead, already knowing what you were thinking. "Worst thing could be that they haven't put coasters out on the table" She admitted.

"It's really nice timber, Sam" You defended yourself and your over-protectiveness of your breakfast bar. Sam had it custom made for you when you said that you had always wanted one. It really was your first child in a way.

"Don't worry, I already warned Cait about the timber" Sam droned, rolling her eyes at you. "She's said she'll protect it with her life".

"She better" You raised your eyebrows.

"I doubt she would mess with Mrs Kerr" Sam smacked your bum lightly before leading you out from her childhood room and into the car.

"Oh I love it when you call me that"

You couldn't stop the butterflies in your belly from fluttering around, although you weren't sure if you baby was just moving around more than usual. The house looked amazing when you pulled up at the front. The garden had been decked out in balloons, a sign next to the front door that said 'Y/N & SAM'S BABY SHOWER' in a beautiful handwritten font.

You held your hands over your mouth in shock as you got out of the car with Sam's help. "Oh my god it looks so good," You could've sworn that there were tears welling up in your eyes.

Before you could even take it in fully, Alanna, Mackenzie and Caitlin opened the front door and cheered for your arrival.

"It looks so good!" You exclaimed, bringing all of them in for a bone-crushing hug. You were beyond impressed and far past grateful.

"We clean up nice" Macca chuckled, hugging you tightly.

"Do you wanna like have some faith in us?" Alanna laughed, rolling her eyes at you.

"I was nervous" You admitted, shrugging awkwardly.

"She was so nervous" Sam reiterated.

"Trust the process, Y/N" Caitlin said before leading both you and Sam inside.

The house looked amazing. There were fresh flowers throughout the entry way with more decorations strung up. You spied a few games set up on various tables before entering the back garden. You had to have had over thirty girls waiting for you and Sam in the back garden. Your close friends were there, as well as lots of Sam's teammates, members of your family sprinkled throughout.

You squealed as you spied some of your older friends who you hadn't had the chance to see in a while. Sam smiled as she watched you catch up with your mates, looking radiant.

"It looks just amazing guys," Sam brought the three of her friends in for a hug. "Thank you so so much" She smiled.

"We need to start charging for events I reckon" Macca chuckled.

"Oh yeah, definitely" Cait nodded in agreeance.

"So what do you need from me?" Sam asked, ready to go into mum-mode and help out her girls for the morning.

"Nothing" Cait shrugged. "Can you relax skip? It's your baby shower. Go sit with your wife and chill. Brunch will be out soon"

"How did you manage to order so much food for so early" Sam asked, the curiosity eating inside at her.

"We're making it" Caitlin said.

"Wait, what?"

You would be lying if you said you weren't nervous that Caitlin might burn down your kitchen. There seemed to be lots of raised voices coming from inside your home, majority coming from Lani telling the girls that they had been cooking the bacon for too long. A few of Sam's teammates offered their help. Emily headed in and started to bring out what was hot (and not burnt) with Steph running inside to save the day- her mimosa in hand.

Everyone was determined to not let you inside and look at the carnage you were convinced was happening in your kitchen. Instead, Sam just held your hand and distracted you by talking with your friends and family.

Soon enough, brunch was served and you were pleasantly surprised. Macca ended up coming out late to eat, still with an apron on, claiming she was just tidying up a little. You knew there was probably more than a little bit of tidying to do, and you were okay with that.

Since being pregnant, you found yourself needing more control over situations, but right now in this moment you were grateful that you and Sam had such beautiful friends who were willing to, not only put on such events for you both, but to make sure you were relaxed and enjoying yourself as they did.

After brunch the games began. Caitlin had the idea of a blindfolded nappy change race. You never thought you would see Hayley Raso facing off against Lydia Williams in who could change a baby doll's nappy the fastest. Lydia smoked her for the record.

Alanna had hidden baby photos of you and Sam around the garden for guests to find. To say you were shocked to have a picture of two-year-old sam sitting in your esky was an understatement.

Mackenzie wanted everyone to decorate a one-suit for your bub. You had Clare Polkinghorne claiming hers was the best as she drew a little tillies kit with her number on the back on hers. Sam tried her best to draw little hearts all around hers, but ended up with some red splotches more so than hearts- you loved it.

The shower went on for a while, way longer than you would have anticipated. It was an absolute hit and you were so grateful to have had to thrown for you.

As the night was winding down you found Cait, Macca and Lani cleaning up the kitchen together so you and Sam wouldn't have to.

"Hey," You said as the girls all turned around to face you. "Thank you so much for today. You have no idea how much it means to me that you guys did all of this"

"Stop it!" Macca exclaimed, reaching out to put a hand on your growing bump. "This is our niece of nephew we're talking about! Of course we wanted to do this" She gave you an extra squeeze before grabbing her dishes again to wash.

"I'm just so so happy" You looked at them all.

"So you had a good time?" Alanna asked, bringing you in for another hug.

"Such a good time" You smiled as you leant against her shoulder. You were so grateful.

"Good we're glad," She smiled at you once you pulled away, "Now get out of the kitchen so you don't combust watching Mackenzie attempt to wash dishes" She nodded over at Mackenzie who was trying her best to scrap at a pan that had definitely seen better days.

You offered them all another thank you before heading out into the garden again. You could here Mackenzie start to bicker with Alanna as you left.

"I'm actually really good at washing dishes" She defended herself.

"Not sure if that's really a brag there Macca" Lani shot back.

It became late in the afternoon before everyone had really started to head off. You and Sam were left sat in the back garden together, watching Macca, Caitlin and Lani as they picked up the last few things around the house.

"They're so good to us" You smiled, leaning your head against Sam's shoulder.

"They're good chicks" Sam nodded, never having felt so content that she did in that moment.

"Can't believe in six months we'll have a baby" You marvelled.

"Can't believe in six months our baby is going to have more than three aunties" She scoffed.

"That's on you there skip" You raised your eyebrows at her as a smirk grew on her lips.

"What can I say?" She shrugged, "I've got good teammates".

"The best teammates"

#sweet nora . * • .#sam kerr imagine #sam kerr x reader #sam kerr one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #one shots . * • .

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fault-classic · 3 months ago

Text

It's been a little while, what have I been working on?

My latest work went into making some pretty significant tweaks to the battle results screen. Really starting to tie things together now, but it's not quite finished yet! That's not all, though.

Back in May I was experimenting with RPG Maker's "weather" system. I had implemented a map-specific "overhang" layer that framed the edges of rooms with black space. That prevented weather effects - like snow particles - from displaying beyond the boundaries of the room.

The frogs are just my debug objects for turning the snow on and off.

But it's not like I wanted it to snow indoors - after I had the overhangs figured out, I rewrote the behaviour and graphics code for the "snow" particles to create these dust particles that float around aimlessly.

This ought to make the catacomb interiors feel appropriately dusty - and make the environments feel less still and lifeless in general.

They even display on the battle screen... though sometimes they tend to crowd around the left side of the screen because of the panning and sliding during the battle intro animation. I'll have to fix that at some point.

During May and June, Vito got a complete set of battle sprites and an attack animation.

And so did Yolei. Oh, and the dog enemy is also new.

The dog enemy is very evasive, but also cowardly and not very tough.

It is capable of the "flee" action, something that slimes and skeletons will not do.

At the end of June I added a MAJOR quality of life feature. When Ashley is facing something on the map that can be interacted with or talked to with the action button, a quotation bubble with an exclamation mark will pop up above their head. No ambiguity! No more pixel hunting or mashing the action button in front of every random tile!

I didn't save any screenshots in July, it was a busy month I guess. But in August I got back to work.

Remember this old sprite? From February of 2023?

Well, I'm revisiting this enemy type with more practice under my belt. Here are some gifs I recorded as I was figuring them out and implementing their assets and abilities.

As armored enemies, they are very hardy - the weaker party members will have a hard time damaging them with basic attacks.

In addition to their basic attacks, all undead enemies can perform a skill that inflicts "fear" status on one party member, which depletes their morale over time...

Here's the same battle running with the mood lighting and dust effects turned on. While I was fiddling with the code, I was also able to configure the target animation to not play if the skill misses. It looked sloppy otherwise.

At some point I put a big, animated door on the front entrance of the debug dungeon. I used this door as a testing model for other interactive doors to use later.

I also spent the last few days of the month filling out Nana's spellbook with some more spell animations. "Dazzle" inflicts dizzy on the entire enemy party. Dizzy enemies have a chance of hitting the wrong target with their basic attacks - including their own allies. Hitting a dizzy target with a basic attack will also knock them down and stun them for one turn.

"Fume" poisons one enemy with a cloud of noxious gas, dealing damage over time.

I should of course note that since skeletons don't breathe, they can't be poisoned in the final game - I was only using this one to demonstrate the animation here.

that's all for now!

#rpg maker #indie game #game dev #gamedev #pixel art #sprite work #animation

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jjameslily · 1 month ago

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tied to you, ch. 3

soulmate au - a continuation of my microfic posted for jilymicofic's august prompt ( read chapter on AO3 )

if i ever promised chapters would be 1k or less no i didnt

“What?” Her voice cracked, the word barely escaping her lips.

“Were you aware of the connection?” The man repeated calmly.

She blinked, realizing with a start that she had stopped listening. His words were a distant noise, only half-processed as her mind wandered.

It hadn’t been long since she had stirred awake, sunlight coming through the high windows of the hospital wing. The day blurred as she was quietly led from her bed to a cramped office beside the infirmary. Pomfrey had closed the door behind her, leaving Lily alone with a man dressed in healer robes now sitting across from her.

The question hung between them as her mind flitted from one hazy memory to another—fleeting and half-forgotten moments from her childhood she had buried deep. But even as she tried to dig them up, none made any sense to her. She shook her head slowly, her throat tight from the moment the healer had begun to speak.

“Ms. Evans,” the healer filled the silence, “I can understand this is all quite overwhelming. But if you wish to have better control over your connection, you must open yourself to it.”

Her eyes snapped to him. “You mean what happened wasn’t normal?”

He shook his head. “It’s difficult to classify anything as ‘normal’, as the manifestations are quite rare, but I suspect what happened last night could be an effect of a suppressed bridge between souls.”

Her breath caught. “Rare?”

“While we once believed having a soulmate in itself wasn’t entirely uncommon, their manifestations have certainly dwindled since the old days.” He paused, as if he was giving her a moment to catch up. “To put it simply, it’s rare that a bond presents itself clearly—if at all—nowadays. One could live their entire life completely unaware they’re only half of one whole.”

“What makes it manifest then?”

He gave her a sympathetic look. “Soulmate bonds are ancient magic, and very unpredictable. There aren’t fixed rules to them nor are there any leading studies that suggest one reason over another. It just… happens.” The healer paused, studying her carefully before continuing, “For now, I recommend meeting with me over the next few weeks, to guide you through…”

But Lily’s mind began to drift again, the healer unable to keep her attention. Soulmates… suppressed bridge…old magic… She could barely process it. Her stomach was in knots as the idea shifted uncomfortably within her.

Who was her soulmate? How was she meant to find them? Did she want to? The gnawing loneliness she had always carried—had it been shared or had it been her own doing by closing herself off and building her walls up for years until it was just a distant period of her childhood?

When the healer was satisfied her condition was stable, Lily was allowed to take the rest of the day off from classes to rest. She let her feet carry her absentmindedly, moving with the vague intention of heading to her dormitory. The laughter of students rang in the corridors and faces rushed past her, the noise muffled as Lily wandered aimlessly, disconnected from it all.

It wasn’t until the sharp breeze touched her skin that she felt herself pulled back into her body. Her legs had carried her toward the lake, its glistening surface providing her some relief under the late afternoon sun.

Lily wasn’t sure what drew her to it. Perhaps it was the way the water reflected the sky as it did in her dream. She imagined herself back in that forest, the trees rustling in the breeze around her, the invisible string tugging at her hand. Without realizing it, she began to reach out—not with her hands, but with something from deep within her.

Hello? The word drifted out, awkward and clumsy. The image of a deer blinking back at her made her feel foolish as she was met with silence.

For a moment, nothing happened. The stillness wrapped around her, amplifying her uncertainty as she waited with only the sound of her heartbeat drumming in her ears.

But then a laugh filled the empty space. Something not just heard, but felt—and somehow familiar. It brought forward a surge of color, a small spark that flickered in the darkness, and she then sensed it—a presence.

Don’t worry, came an amused response. I’m human.

Lily’s breath hitched as she heard his voice in her mind. The sensation was like a light breeze stirring around her, or the brush of fingertips just barely grazing skin. It was gentle, almost deliberate in the way it slowly came to.

It’s you, she said almost in a daze.

He didn’t say anything, but hesitation fluttered within her. She was stunned at the realization that the feeling wasn’t her own.

Soulmate. The word she had heard all morning seemed to glow as she thought it, escaping before she could reel it in. In this part of her mind, her thoughts and words were intertwined in thin, silvery ropes that she struggled to differentiate.

His presence hummed in response either way. Didn’t you know?

How would I have known?

Her memories came rushing through then, crashing like waves on the shore, too loud and too fast. The healer’s clinical tone as he spoke to her, the clicking of his pen as he wrote down notes, Lily’s guilt as she grappled with the fact that she had intentionally suppressed their bond—yet completely unaware that someone was on the other side of it.

There was an indistinct shudder that passed through them, then a pause. In the silence, she felt him sifting through the tendrils of their shared connection, brushing against her thoughts tentatively. A feeling of surprise surged through her, tinged with something else.

I thought you did... We’ve talked before, just once.

Lily felt the ghost of his own memory surfacing, almost as if she was recalling it herself. Grief pooled like cold water in her chest as he unraveled the memory slowly, almost carefully. Hands clutching a tear-stained t-shirt, the sound of her shuddering breath as she held back her sobs, the force in which he felt her voice calling out to him. As gently as he tried, it still tugged painfully at her as she remembered willing herself to believe it was her father—needing it to be her father—who had spoken to her one last time.

Everything around them began to shake. It was too much.

Without a word, she pivoted from the memory, every image and every feeling shattering like glass. As everything fell away, she was plunged into what felt like an endless void, the sensation leaving her disoriented and nauseous as noise buzzed loudly in her ears. Instinctively, Lily reached out for something solid, desperately searching the contents of her mind for anything to ground her, and in an instant, the darkness fell away—replaced by something else entirely.

It was like stepping into a room bathed in rich golden hues, the kind that filtered through windows on a brilliant summer’s day. It was as though the air itself was sparkling with life, filling the space with a gentle hum that radiated through her and ignited a sense of comfort.

Where her own mind felt like a maze of closed doors and shadows, this space was inviting and bright. She didn’t feel the need to push past any barriers or pry anything open.

And, suddenly, it struck her that this was him—his consciousness.

His amber-lit presence filled the room effortlessly, welcoming her as if he had nothing to hide.

I’m sorry, he said earnestly. I should have warned you about the memories.

What was that?

I’m not sure… I didn't realize you could do that. We’ve never been connected this long.

As she settled into this new space, she realized how calm he had been, despite it all. You don’t seem surprised having a stranger’s voice in your head, she accused.

Well, I’d argue we’re not strangers , he said, and almost as if to tease her, the word that had escaped from her mind earlier floated back to the surface.

Cheeky, she replied, unamused. You must think you know me well enough to be this annoying already.

His laugh rumbled deep and warm, a pleasant sort of sensation that vibrated through her. Lily was surprised by the way she responded to it.

I’ve known you your whole life, he said smoothly.

Just casually lurking in the background all this time, were you?

Let me show you, he said, his tone shifting slightly.

Her mind went blank for a second. He offered her no words or memories this time, only feeling, but she understood all he was trying to convey as she felt his consciousness expand and move through her.

He didn’t know her name, or her face, but he had always been there—in some intangible way, just beneath the surface. To him, they had always existed in the same space, intertwined yet distanced. Unknown yet familiar.

It almost frightened her how easily he shared his mind to her, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him.

It’s not a bad thing—a soulmate.

Her pulse quickened, mind flaring with resistance she couldn’t help. Of course not… I just have to share my every waking thought with you…

She felt his laugh again, and wondered what it would feel like to mentally kick herself as she hadn’t meant for him to hear that thought again.

Can you hear all my thoughts? Her question was laced with wariness.

Usually, no. Can you hear mine?

She waited, half expecting to hear something ridiculous, like elevator music playing in the background.

No, but I can feel what you feel.

I can too.

All the time?

Not quite. I think they have to be particularly strong. So far though, you seem to do it unconsciously.

And my memories?

Those are trickier, he explained, and it irked her a bit that she was so out of her depth while he seemed so much more in control.

He continued, It’s like quickly flipping through pages of a book. It’s just bits and pieces without much context. They can be hard to understand.

Lily felt a rush of relief. Good, I’d hate for you to know all my embarrassing secrets.

I’m sure I’ll figure them out eventually, he responded playfully.

Brilliant, she said dryly, but a smile tugged at her lips for the first time.

Don’t worry. You haven’t let me in since we were kids , he reminded her, and in that moment, she felt the depth of his patience for her. I haven’t seen anything you didn’t want me to—at least, not on purpose.

But as he said the words, it triggered a curiosity within Lily, setting loose a single silver tendril. Before she even knew what she was doing, she peered deeper, reaching for it. She heard him begin to protest, felt him attempt to stop her, but it was too late.

With her unintentional touch, Lily opened the floodgate.

#jple #jily fic #soulmate au #jily #jily fanfiction #jily au #james potter #lily evans #harry potter #era: marauders #hp #mine: fic

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hypersonic04 · 1 year ago

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Gold Rush

hello everyone! I thought that as a last hurrah to the summertime, I'd write something inspired by it. this was kindly suggested by @mybrokenveins3000, and i am so obsessed with the whole concept. i hope you all enjoy, let me know what you think! love u!

word count: 1,429

Your skin begs to soak up every last ray of late-August sunshine. The flashing lights and movie stars feel far away now, a life that belongs to someone else, someone who cares about things that, in this life, have no value. He’s golden, flickering, light pouring from him as you sit beside him in the convertible. The wind tickles at your skin, your eyes glued to him sat beside you. Linen shirt, sunglasses, hair sea-salt-ruffled. His skin has been kissed by the sun since you arrived here all but two weeks ago. You tip your head back, try to commit every last cobblestone and blade of grass to memory. The Italian summer has owned your heart for a while, but the silver R laid flat to your chest is forever, sacred, for eternity.

His fingertips are hot on your sticky skin, the breeze welcome as he carefully turns the wheel. Physically, his eyes are fixed forward, but they’re glassy, dreamy, starry. He looks like something you’d have drawn when you were 15, a figment of your imagination. You wonder how many other people would’ve drawn the same thing - what must it be like to grow up that beautiful? The jealousy that dares to make itself know disappears in an instant, his chocolate gaze melting into yours.

“Are you happy?" He asks you. You nod, wordlessly, because words could never be enough.

"Are you?"

"Very." His gaze returns to the road, swallowing heavily, the sweetest of smiles on his face.

The car takes a left, rumbling up the hill that leads us to our treasure trove, our castle. White stone walls, shutter blinds, a peach tree curving over the balcony. It's silent as the engine shuts off, except for the distant sound of a bird call. Your skirt is soft on your legs as you jog up the stone steps, Ross following closely behind, as ever. His hands on your waist, lips on the shell of your ear, light breaths sending you dizzy,

"Ross," you mumble through giggles, unable to put the keys in the lock for his touches. His presence in a room could do that to you, though, red often flushing to your face at the sight of him.

"What, can I not kiss my fiance?" He smiles against your cheek, emphasis on the latter.

Your engagement remains a secret from the world, from prying eyes, from anyone, really. He'd popped the question three days ago, the silver band on your finger new and novel, the sight of it startling, almost.

You turn around in his hold, back pressed to the wood of the door, head tilted upwards to meet his affirmed smirk, a smugness to it as he gazes down at you.

"Fiance." You breathe out, chest sinking as you sigh. He nods, inching closer and closer to your pink lips until they're pressed together. Your hands hold his face, stubble gravelly under your hot touch, your breath stolen by his kiss. He nods at you with drowsy eyes as he pulls away, smiling. The air is balmy, the dusky sky almost a shade of rust now.

He slips the key out of your fingertips, unlocking the door as you rest against it. Walking you backwards into the house, his hands are on your hips and he's laughing at something you've said, something cocky, the kind of thing that fascinated him in the bar that one night. A loud laugh, the kind that gets stuck in the air, tangled around your ear, lingering in the pits of your stomach on the nights you lay awake in the dark. You want it to sit there forever.

He lets you leave him to get changed, begrudgingly. You can hear him opening and closing cupboard doors as you tie your hair up, slipping out of the linen skirt you'd been wearing. Your skin is tan as you look at yourself in the mirror, bra and shorts the only suitable attire for the sweltering evening heat. The bedroom windows are wide open, and you find yourself gazing out of them for a second. You can see the ripple of lights on water, hear distant conversation from a restaurant you'd sat in a few days ago, the greenery hanging over the window close enough for you to touch. It's still, a stark contrast to your everyday life. You wonder what would happen if you didn't go back.

The sound of the balcony doors opening steals you from your daydream. Padding across the wooden floor, back into the living room, you spot the bottle of red wine he's placed on the table outside, ashtray and deck of cards next to the glasses. A smile spreads across your face, spotting him through the arch of the kitchen, shirt off as he places slices of watermelon on a plate.

He glances at you, then glances at you again as you walk out onto the balcony. You lean against it with a glass of wine in hand, surprised when his fingers ghost up your spine. They're soft, warm, home.

"Thank you for pouring me a glass." You smile, maintaining his eye contact over the rim of the glass.

"You're very welcome, my love." He kisses your temple before taking a seat at the table, leaning back and lighting a cigarette. He takes a drag of it, and you watch as his cheeks hollow. It's inviting, bewitching almost, watching his eyes graze across the view from your balcony, hair falling perfectly, lungs inhaling.

You take your seat across from him, shuffling the cards. He watches as you do it, flicking some ash into the ashtray between you both. You deal them out as he tells you about how George had asked how the holiday was going, how long you were staying, nodding along as he talks.

The wine flows too easily, your cheeks red and glowing as you stare at him dreamily. There's a purity to it, an innocence, your eyes glazed over like a teenager with a crush.

"You're staring." He chuckles, eyebrows raised.

"What, can I not stare at my fiance?" You giggle as you mirror his earlier words, watching his face contort as he laughs. The air is bursting with love, the seams of your bubble threatening to burst as your laughter bounces around, your belly warm and mind fuzzy. "Let me have a drag." You cock your head to his cigarette and hold our your hand.

"You're not smoking a cigarette, y/n." he shakes his head with a laugh. "When have you ever smoked?"

"When I've had four glasses of Bordeaux." you giggle. The sound that escapes your lips sends him dizzy, tilting his head a little so he can see every inch of your face, warmed up by the glow of the living room light falling through the doorway. He wants to bottle this noise, this moment, this feeling.

He puts it out before you can attempt to steal it, standing up to look over the balcony. His back is broad, muscles evident as he rests his forearms on the railings, dark eyes contemplating the scenery around him. It's dark now, little caverns of light hidden in the landscape, evidence of life. Your arms snaking around his waist don't take him by surprise, a kiss pressed to the centre of his back as you rest your head against it. His skin is hot, smooth under your touch, still glazed with sunscreen and aloe moisturiser. Memories of you in fits of laughter the day before, him wincing as you lathered the cold gel onto his back, running around the house like children - you're grateful they exist, you hope they stay as vibrant as they are right now.

You can hear the strum of a guitar from a bar lower down the cliff, faint and gentle in your ears, but enough to know it's something familiar. Humming along to it, he turns around and takes your hands in his, swaying ever-so-gently. He's twinkling, sparkling under your touch, cheeks tinted pink and eyes sleepy. You're drunk on red wine, dancing with your fiance on a balcony in Italy - if only you could freeze time.

His hands move to your waist, smooth and soft under his calloused fingertips, lips pressed to yours, tongues intertwining like ivy, like the way you think your souls might be. He walks you backwards, back through the balcony doors, hitting the wall of the hallway before you can catch your breath. He pulls away, eyes so close to yours, and if you could jump into them, you would.

#ross macdonald #the 1975 #1975 band #fanfic #matty healy #adam hann #george daniel #matty the 1975 #asks #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald fanfic

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jungle-angel · 1 year ago

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This Cozy House (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob spend a chilly fall evening goofing around with the babies

It was absolutely freezing out, more so than it had been since last year despite it being only early October. It was already dark out in early evening, the sun having set around five-thirty in the evening while dinner was left to slow cook in the crockpot, but the house was as brightly lit and cozy as ever.

Auggie and Patrick's squealing giggles soon reached your ears as Bob tickled them, the three laughing up a storm in the living room. You laughed just as they did, your hands trailing to your bump as your baby girl kept rolling over.

A sudden noise made you jump a little along with Bob's stern warning to your son. "August Robert," he chided. "If you're gonna rough-house, take your glasses off."

"Ok Daddy," he chirped, quickly removing his glasses and setting them down on the endtable.

You pulled the grainy loaf of bread out of the oven and put it on the back of the stove, cutting it with great ease and putting it on the plate. The rain battering the roof was growing louder and louder, rattling the pipes that held up the stove vents whole a menacing roll of thunder was heard outside.

"Storm's rollin in (y/n)?" Bob asked as Patrick rolled onto one of the couch cushions on the floor.

"They said it was gonna get bad in a few hours," you told him, bringing the bread to the table. "Not sure how these two are gonna sleep tonight."

Bob nodded in agreement. Storms in California had been nothing compared to those in Montana where you were currently living. All summer long, you and Bob had not only worried about tornadoes but the wildfires which tended to spark up close to towns and cities. Luckily for you, Bob and his family had worked with a local hotshot team to create a burn line so that the ranch would survive.

"C'mon Patrick, roll to Daddy," Bob encouraged.

Patrick squealed and giggled as he somersaulted off the couch and into his father's arms. It always ended the same with Bob putting him back on the couch and having him roll right off, over and over again until finally the timer on the crockpot went off.

"Auggie, grab your glasses, then come eat."

"Ok."

You and Bob were soon seated at the table with Auggie and Patrick, the four of you just having said grace before dinner was passed around, hot pieces of bone-in fried chicken, white-cheddar mac n cheese with toasted breadcrumbs, green beans and the grainy crust of bread that had smelled so good warming in the oven.

Everyone ate their fill and talked about their day and all that had come about. "Oh," Bob said suddenly. "Sweet cheeks, before I forget, I've got next week off so I can go and get the boys from school."

"Does Luanne know?"

"She knows," Bob assured you. "Dad helped her and Magnus fix their windows last week since he had his rotator-cuff surgery. He told her I was gonna pick the boys up as soon as they were done on their nature walks."

Excellent....you thought. One less thing to worry about......

As soon as the boys had finished, you and Bob took care of the dishes and the leftovers, putting the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and putting the leftover food into clean plastic containers to store in the fridge for tomorrow's lunch.

"You want me to take care of baths tonight?" you asked Bob.

"Absolutely not," Bob insisted. "You're eight months pregnant and I don't want you having to hurt yourself."

"Bob, c'mon, we've been through this twice already," you chuckled.

"Which is exactly why I don't want you to hurt yourself," Bob informed you.

"I'm just teasing," you told him.

You leaned into his embrace, happy and content as ever in his arms as he lovingly kissed you, his hand resting on your bump when he felt the tiny little feet of your daughter against his palm.

"You get some sleep my sweet little pea," he mumbled as he stooped to one knee to kiss your belly. "I have a feeling you're gonna be trouble like your brothers."

You laughed a little bit before Bob told you to go and settle in and to get the Friday night movie ready. It was an odd choice of Auggie and Patrick's, but they were beginning to really love Disney's "Fantasia", one that Bob had grown up watching. Even if neither of them understood it, they loved the images that matched up with the music.

Bob quickly gave them their baths and stuck them both in their warm little pjs just in case they fell asleep during the movie. Auggie had run to his room to go and grab his little Dumbo stuffie off his bed while Patrick waddled out with his little brownie bear in its soft knit sweater that you and Bob's mother had both worked on when Patrick had been born.

You and Bob pulled out the couch bed and piled it with blankets, pillows and anything else to keep warm, snuggling in with your boys between you, your family dog jumping up to warm your feet and the movie playing on the tv screen in the living room. You and Bob couldn't have been more content than at that very moment, with both your boys between you, all snuggled under the warm quilts and blankets as the storm passed you by outside. Yet here you remained, unaffected by the rain battering the windows and safe in each other's arms, just as you knew, you always would be

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #dagger squad

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beybaldes · 1 year ago

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Keep it like a warm coat when winter comes to cover you

will kitman x reader

summer sleepover masterlist

summary : “one giving the other their jacket / covering them with it when they fall asleep” requested by anon

an : anon I love love love you ty for the will kitman request he is my wife husband I hope you enjoy <33 title comes from one of my fave poems ever by Jimmy Santiago baca you should 10000% check it out!!!!

6 hours. The drive back to Richmond was going to take 6 hours. And given the fact it was already pushing 11pm and you’d been awake since 5am, you didn’t quite fancy the prospect of having to stay awake for 24 hours.

It wasn’t that you didn’t have the option of sleeping on the coach, it was just the given the colder weather, you found it impossibly hard.

From your very first away game with the team back at the beginning of the season, you’d made sure to claim an empty seat towards the back of the bus, taking the side next to the window so you could enjoy the view as you travelled. Back in the warmth of August, taking the window seat hadn’t been a problem, but now that winter was in its depths and Will had slid into the empty space next to you weeks ago, you couldn’t escape the cold that seeped in through the glass during the dark, winter nights.

Not only did the cold stop you from getting to sleep, but the constant chatter and bumpy roads did too. Even at dead of night, even after the most strenuous of matches or even after the most pitiful of losses, someone, somewhere on the bus was wide awake and full of conversation. And when the coach had finally become completely silent and you’d just started to doze off, you’d hit a pot hole - or six - and be woken right back up.

There was no way you’d be sleeping tonight.

“You okay?” Will’s head was titled to face you, his brow tense in a way that had you wanting to reach out and caress it away. “You seem out of it.”

“Just tired, Will.” Your knees were pulled as close to your chest as they could be given the small space in the seat. Back before Will had worked up the courage to ask if he could sit with you on the coach rides, you’d have stretched out across the seats and tried to make the best of a bad situation. You’d rather have Will here then the ability to get comfortable. “But I can never sleep on these stupid coach rides.”

Before Will could ask you the question of ‘why’ that had clearly been on the tip of his tongue, he was pulling off his Richmond zip up and placing it over you like a blanket. “You’re shivering.”

“It’s just cause it’s cold, Will. You didn’t need to give me your jacket.” Despite your words, you were pulling the jacket tighter around you, revelling in the strange amount of warmth it provided you. If you’d allowed your mind to wander, maybe you’d have realised that it was the fact it Will’s jacket that was making you warm, not the jacket itself. “I feel bad, you’ll get cold now.”

“My mum says I run warm, I’ll be fine.” Will pulled out a pair of wired earphones from the bottom of his backpack, plugging it into his phone and then offering one out to you. “Besides, I’d rather you have it. Headphone?”

Taking it from him carefully, you put it into your left ear so you’d have no choice but to lean in closer to Will. You didn’t mention the AirPods that were clearly peaking out of his jean pockets.

Silently, you lowered your head against Will’s shoulder, missing the pleased hum that slipped past his lips and the smile that curled onto them. You didn’t question the music he put on, instead cuddling further into him and his jacket.

Will was tensely aware of every movement you made, from the shuffling of your head against his shoulder to the way your hand was inches from holding his, brushing against his with each bump in the road. So, when your breathing evened out - the warmth and Will being exactly what you’d needed to fix the issue you’d been having - he was instantly aware, pulling far away enough from you to double check you were, in fact, asleep. Before he leant back against the seat, braving resting his head atop your own and letting himself curl into you slightly, he pulled his jacket up tight against your chin, making sure you were fully protected from the cold.

You greatly struggled to hide the blush that covered your cheeks, when, the following afternoon, Colin messaged you a picture of the two of you cuddled up on the coach; Will’s head atop your own and his jacket wrapped around you.

Part of you was certain you wouldn’t have to worry about sleeping on the coach going forward.

#ted lasso x reader #will kitman oneshot #will kitman imagine #will kitman x reader #beybaldes summer sleepover !!

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sflow-er · 3 months ago

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Sunday snippet

I haven't done these in a while, so to kick myself back into gear, I'm sharing with you the start of an aged-up Henry oneshot that grew out of my QP Walty writing practice...

It's a long one, so I'm putting it under a cut.

[Title TBR]

If there was one thing about today that Henry did not expect to struggle with, it was his necktie.

After all, he’s got enough experience to tie it on muscle memory alone. Three whole decades’ worth. From the tedious lessons with his father since before he started primary school, to the uniformed school celebrations and secret Society meetings at Hillerska, to the summer balls of Riddarskapet och Adelns Ungdomsklubb and an assortment of high society events that have dappled his life since early adulthood. A tie was not necessarily required on all those occasions, but he always found it harder to meet the standards without one.

That’s not even to mention the last few years and the campaign he started after his father’s untimely death. Sometimes, it feels as if he’s been armoured in a silk tie and a Windsor knot every other day since the funeral, to meet with some old baron or former Society brother. Rationally, he knows that’s not true; there was plenty of tieless time in between, and the last six months have been almost entirely tie-free. It’s just hard to see that when the tie days get on top of his mind.

Which makes today’s fumbling all the more frustrating.

Even with Henry drawing on his vast experience – and standing in front of the massive bathroom mirror that should remove all margin for error – the knot keeps coming out untidy. Whether it’s one or both shoulders peeking out, or the blade being too short and the tail too long, or the end result being too tight or loose by look or feel.

It doesn’t take much effort to imagine what the late Carl Emil Silfverfeldt would make of this travesty his sole heir has just inched up to his collar. Henry can see it when he holds his own gaze in the mirror; the blue of their eyes is exactly the same, as is the critical look. The longer he stays like that, the easier it is to feel a hand on his shoulder and the words ‘we agreed that you would give it your best, and we are men of our word, aren’t we?’ in his gut.

This, he thinks grimly, is most definitely not his best. He would not settle for it even on an average day, let alone an occasion. Regardless of everything else, today is an occasion, and he cannot – will not – turn up in this mess when he’s perfectly capable of making it look right –

He breaks eye contact with a sigh and catches his head with his fingertips. Careful not to mess up his hair, he kneads his forehead from brow to temples, trying to disperse the thought that’s been popping up all morning.

Maybe a break is in order. He isn’t sure if he can still afford one when he’s already wasted so much time, but it’s not like the party can start without him.

He slinks back to the bedroom, removing the tie along the way. He should probably hang it with his jacket and waistcoat, but he can’t be bothered to circle around the king-size bed to get to them. On top of the dresser will do.

Both his phone and his smartwatch keep blinking at him as he adds the tie to the items already laid out next to the charging station – signet ring, cufflinks, antique pocket watch, little square box. No doubt he’s missed a ton of messages. Figuring he might as well catch up now, he grabs the phone and takes a seat at the foot end of the bed.

He could have guessed that the first batch would be from his mother, Mikaela. She’s been freaking out about Säpo at the manor house all morning, as if there was any risk of the agents suddenly ruling the venue unsafe and calling the whole thing off.

Then again, that would be a pretty smooth way out of this tie slump. Is it too late to call August or Wilhelm and ask them to fix a last-minute security threat? Surely at least one of them must have done it before.

The thought coaxes a laugh out of him, but alas. Mikaela’s texts about the Security Police hassle end with someone having reassured her that the event can proceed with both former crown princes in attendance.

She has moved on to requesting his input on something else, apparently explained in a long voice message. There’s also a random picture of stylised yellow roses.

‘Darling, I know you’re busy getting ready, but if it’s not too much trouble,’ Mikaela starts in a tone that strongly implies it will be. ‘I’m getting a lot of questions about what is and isn’t appropriate. Five separate people – for example, Cecilia showed me her card this morning, and there were roses on it. I said you said no flowers, but she insisted, so I promised to send you a picture. Let me know what you think, okay?’

Henry sighs and enlarges the photo. He doesn’t know much about flowers or what they’re supposed to represent, but his aunt probably does. He doesn’t hate the card – but that’s about as far as he gets in forming an opinion before his mother overwhelms him with the rest of her query.

.-.-.

Cutting it off here for now (and also reserving the right to edit further). I'm fairly excited for this one so hopefully I can continue working on it to finish it soon-ish!

#young royals #young royals fanfic #young royals fic #henry young royals #queerplatonic walty #ace henry #aroace henry #sunday snippet #yes the parents' names are the same as in my main series but they aren't the same people #also stella is his childhood friend in the fic but doesn't appear in this snippet #qp walty one-shot

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penig · 3 months ago

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So we're having a rough summer and I haven't been talking about it because why brood but it's different when you talk about people being nice. So, thumbnail sketch:

We finally (as I've been wanting to do for years) got an estimate on getting the house rewired (pretty sure some of the original wiring installed in 1910 is in use) and partially replumbed (can't use the shower tub because the iron pipes are too clogged), and the paperwork for the loan took forever, and then a high wind came along (on my birthday) and dropped a dead redbud tree on our porch and a large branch on our car, which was totaled, and we had to buy a new (used) car and get a tree service to come out and take care of the fallen wood and trim the trees so no more wood falls, but the cost to take care of the big branch and woodpecker damaged tree in the back yard was more than we could afford with the car business, but that could wait a few months assuming no more high winds come along; and the loan comes through and we get the car squared away and the tree service is scheduled to come and we're starting to breathe again -

And I spy somebody putting what I recognize as a code violation notice on the front gate so I open the door and come out to tell her that if this is about the redbud tree on the porch we've already scheduled the work and she says: "It's everything on the lot. Cut it down to 12 inches. You have ten days" So I point out that most of the tall stuff is legal garden plants that should not be pruned in August, that it's two years since I've been physically capable of doing yardwork of any kind, that the work she's demanding is impossible in that time frame and oh yes, it's August, in Texas, with triple digit temperatures predicted for the foreseeable future and it could very well kill me to try. She thought there might be a local program to help me (No; they're all for structural work) and wouldn't budge. So that was like being shoved back underwater when we'd almost crawled out on shore.

But we put out a call to our friends, and people came over Saturday and did miracles, and almost every day this week somebody has come over (in addition to the people putting holes in our walls and ceilings and arguing over how to run the wires and occasionally turning pale at what they find) to help me in the mornings before the third digit kicked in. We did not, of course prune any of the poor heat stressed legal plants, but great inroads were made on the rest of it, and one friend even cut up the big branch in the back yard and the tree service people hauled it off, along with a collapsed picnic table which they told me, when they quoted the price for this small secondary job, that they would not take.

This morning I could barely move. I'm getting a lot of pain in the good leg as well as the bad leg, and in my back, plus I was just weak with heat and tiredness, and for the first time in almost a year I decided I'd better break out the cane again, at least to take the stairs and walk in the yard to discuss with the friend who came today, the last day before the inspection, where best to put his effort (because it was plain to both of us that I wasn't lifting a finger) in order to convince the inspector that we really had done the best we could and to let the stuff we couldn't get to slide until fall and spring.

And I guess one of the workmen noticed the cane, and noticed that the handrail on the upper staircase had pulled out of the wall on one end (it had been anchored to the sheetrock, not the wall proper; the other end was anchored in paneling and was fine; this happened a couple of months ago and we had bigger worries), and just - fixed it. Because it's certainly fixed now. As is typical in Texas most of the workmen are people I can't even talk to because my Spanish is as bad as their English, so it's not as if we've made friends with them. And I didn't see it done, nor did the foreman know who did it when I brought it up and asked him to thank whoever it was, so it wasn't somebody looking to make points. They just saw a chance to do a small simple thing to benefit a total stranger, and did it.

The point here being that two people - whoever called in the code complaint (seriously, that should be illegal in August, at least for yard code with no clear and present danger) and the city employee who wouldn't listen to reason - went out of their way to force me to focus on the least pressing problem facing us right now at the expense of my own well-being. But they are far, far outnumbered by the people who have gone out of their way to help us, just because we needed help.

So, suck it, cynicism!

#personal #non-sims

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