#I'll get off my soap box now

[paperclipninja]

I'm gonna sound very old person yells at cloud but I don't care, I feel like I need to say this. We all (well most of us) know that messaging Neil with any headcanons/theories/wishes/hopes/dreams to do with the show is a no-go because it could potentially compromise the story he wants to tell or ends up telling. And yes, he is a grown up who chooses what to respond to etc and I think it's wonderful he engages with fans and answers a lot of lovely and interesting questions about his process, writing and journey etc.

However, there is another reason not to send theories and ideas about how the show should go to the show creator in the hope of a response: it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter whether a theory is correct, or a speculation may or may not play out. That is why fandom exists.

Online fandom is where we all come together to yell and cry and throw around weird-ass ideas and theories and look at art and read fanfic and unite in our love of characters and a show. A huge part of being in fandom, is the way fandom theories become like an understood little bit of fanon lore that some people attach to, others disregard. But it doesn't matter. And part of the fun of fandom, is when a new season or a new episode of the show comes out, you have this collective catalogue of ideas and theories and headcanons and you get to yell and scream, "omg it happened1" or "lol that that thing was ever talked about" or "thank god that theory didn't come to pass".

Wanting to know now (not that we ever will) and not wanting to wait until the next season to find out the answers diminishes the fandom experience. I cannot stress enough how much we are in the absolute peak of the fandom experience right now. The between seasons time is the ultimate time to be a part of a fandom (as I'm sure many people are well aware), knowing there's another season coming energises everyone to create and connect and speculate and it's glorious! I know it feels like it'll be like this forever, but it won't. Next season is the last and yes, there will be a flurry and uptick of all the energy and excitement once again, and I absolutely believe Good Omens fandom will live on and remain active and thrumming. But there won't be theories and what ifs and hunting for clues for the next season, and over time it will dwindle a little and plateau and some people will fall into other fandoms, and while it will probably bubble away, there won't be the anticipation that sits with us now.

My point is, fandom is where we get to throw around ideas and flail and be ridiculous and also serious sometimes, but it's all for us. For the fans. Showing Neil theories or getting in a flap about a particular speculation and asking if x, y, or z might happen isn't just about putting the creator in an awkward spot, it takes away what fandom is about. Just let this time be ours. If you haven't been in fandom before, enjoy it! Don't be in a hurry to seek definitive answers or know things either way.

It doesn't matter if any or none or all of the things that float around end up being correct or incorrect. Fandom isn't about being right. It's about being a part of a community and being able to share ideas and it's about it being FUN.

So TL;DR Stop sending Neil fan ideas because that is for fandom, not for the creator.

[lavander-gooms]

you better believe it smells like cat piss in Felicia's room

[pinkslaystation]

Tulips or Roses?

John Price x reader

In which you find John's old diary detailing his love for you his teammate and you begin to question his love for you. Word Count: 3.6k -> blurb - rose meets tulips

Being a civilian to a soldier was hard enough.

And it was even harder when your husband was a commander for one of the most skillful task force. So it wasn't unusual for him to be gone for long periods of time.

So on a random Friday evening, anticipating his arrival in the coming week, vacuuming the floors, cleaning the windows, you found yourself at the door of John's study, with was decorated with a glass name plate, with the words 'Study' accompanied with a painted heart created from blue and pink fingerprints from you and your husband.

John was never the man to tell you off if you entered his study, instead he encouraged it. He's beckoned you to bring him his evening tea to him, to give him a massage, sometimes when you wanted him, he'd allow you to help him under the desk, if you get what I mean. (speaking from experience ;>)

As you stepped into his room, you noticed the ceilings adorned with sizable white cobwebs, cringing at the apparent neglect of his study. When was the last time someone had even been here?

Sweeping his desk, wiping away the dust, you find a box underneath beside his chair, which prompted you to lifting it up and placing on top of the desk. Man, you underestimated it's weight. You struggled to lift a small but heavy moving box, and it caused a few books and papers to fall out.

You cursed at your clumsiness, picking up the loose sheets, until you fingers caught the spine of a red vintage-like book, which had the word 'diary' written on the front. You didn't take too much notice, skimming through the pages until you caught your name being mentioned a phew times.

You giggle, it's a diary probably with John confessing his love to you numerous time! You know you probably shouldn't look through it, I mean privacy exists, but you just can't help it.

So you look through some of the infrequent entries, the oldest dating back to 10 years back, and the most recent one being nearly 4 years, when you and John had first met.

30th February 2010

Suffering in Afghanistan, the lads and I are stuck in the safe house for a week now. Rose is here too, I should ask her if she's okay.

Ahhh you remember this story. When the Task Force was stuck in the city of Kandahar, in the safe house. You also remember John's team, whom you are well-acquainted with, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Roach, Rose?

You skip through the boring entries, most of which are just John documenting his work-out plan and the places him and his team had visited.

5th July 2016

Gaz's going on and on about his lass. Someone tell him to talk to her at least, he doesn't even know her name! I keep bringing it up but he keeps mentioning when I'll talk to Rose.

You chuckled, assuming the chick was Gaz's current wife. But the last part caught your attention, Rose again? You remember John telling you that she'd retired, went back north to settle with her family now, so you don't think much of it, I mean they are team mates.

19th June 2017

Saw a cute kid and her mama, wishing I had kids, without this lifestyle. Rose wants a son but I don't particularly mind. Soap overheard our conversation and spammed me lols on Whatsapp, but I thought lol meant little old lady? I am a man though.

You raise your eyebrow at another mention of Rose, why doesn't he care if Rose wanted a son? You didn't realise how close your husband was to her.

2nd December 2018

Christmas this month with my boys. Rose invited me over for a smoke. Ghost rolls his eyes when I mentioned it to him, says I need to man up and make a move.

You squinted your eyes, rereading the entry, and hesitantly skipping to the next one.

7th April 2019

Drinks with my men (and Rose haha, she doesn't like being part of the men). It's her birthday and she wants to tell us something. She's got her red lips again. I'm excited, Soap kept nudging me the entire ride, that cheeky bugger.

Then immediately below it, an update: She's seeing someone.

You're slowly piecing the puzzle, though you don't want to assume anything.

21st August 2019

She came into my room crying, seems like it's not going well, good for me. I hope she's okay and she realises there's better fish in the sea. She hugged me, she smells like roses, I love floral scents. I tried leaning in, she says I'm like an older brother to her.

Your heart breaks a bit, sniffing at your freshly washed hair, which smelt like ... like roses.

You thought floral scents were YOUR thing.

You continued, to the next entry which was marked the date you remember meeting John for the first time at the pub. You force a smile, hoping the entry would lighten your mood.

30th November 2020

In the pub and bored. Rose brought her lad... they're back together. What does she see in him? Soap urges me to find someone else but my heart is set on someone, for a long time. Won't change. He keeps gesturing to a girl on the other end of the counter, she's pretty, but like a tulip. Not like a rose. Not like my Rose.

You grip at the notebook and you try your hardest not to rip the papers out of the book and set his entire study on fire.

You remember this day, when you were dragged to the pub by your friends after being dumped by your ex for another girl. You sat at one end of the counter, with tears in your eyes but one look at that buff Englishman on the other end and your mood flipped instantaneously, 180 degrees.

"Kelsey, look at that guy, Mr Army over there." You beckon towards John's direction, to your friend., slightly tipsy after a peg of beer.

Your friend looks at you with a raised eyebrow, then turns to the guy whose piqued your interest, "You should go for it." She encourages you.

So you get yourself 2 drinks and approach the guy, more confident that usual due to your alcoholic state. A beer would do.

"Hi, this seat empty?" You smile at him innocently.

All this time you had recalled a look of fondness towards you, when he'd first locked eyes with you. You remember bragging about how it had been love at first sight for the both of you, but thinking back, a feeling of doubt starts bubbling inside you.

"It's reserve- you know what. Take a seat."

You remember sitting next to him, passing him a drink, and telling him your name, "...and you are?" you question, although you see him wincing. At first you thought it was just an army thing, so guarded that even the slightest of movements would make him twitch.

But now you're questioning whether he really wanted to engage into a conversation with you.

The following hours, as you painfully recall, was filled with you talking about yourself and occasionally asking him after his life, though he gives you one word answers and frequent nods.

But that was just because he'd just come home from a mission right?

"...and he just broke up with me out of the blue! Like was my 12,000 followers on TikTok not good enough for you?" You chuckle, attempting to crack a joke. He smiles confused, and you note he's probably too old to understand what TikTok was.

"Sounds like an asshole, love." He replies.

"Hmm, he was...I- I just don't know what he'd leave me for her...like I gave you my everything, I was always with you through thick and thin and what, that wasn't enough for you?" You trail off, the effects of the 2nd beer hitting you.

"I understand dove, you just give 'em everything and they just find someone else. What does he have that I don't?" He spaces out, his eyes falling on his teammates sitting at a different table. You follow his gaze, smiling slightly when you lock eyes with one of his smirking subordinates, whom you know know as Soap.

"Those people, they're your team?" You question.

His eyes aren't on you though as he responds, "That mohawk, that's Soap, Ghost next to him, tough as steel but soft at heart, Gaz on the opposite, funny lad, Roach, good ol' Roach..."

You look at the woman to the right of 'Roach', taking in her beauty. Though she's sitting down, you can tell she's taller that you by least 4 inches, with a blonde pixie haircut and painted with a dark smokey eye. A deep smirk is plastered onto her plump ruby red lips as she looks at John Price finally talking to a woman that isn't her. She raises a hand, waving to the both of you, which is almost instantaneously reciprocated by John.

"And her?" You ask, head nudging towards the woman.

"Her...That's Rose. You should meet her, you would like her, but who doesn't..." His chuckle fades out and you at how his attention was fully directed to her. A sinking feeling told you that you should have backed off from the married man, but it disappeared when John pointed out her partner, with gritted teeth.

Your hands are gripping the pages at this point, as you recall memories from the diary from his point of view.

You turn the page to the next entry, dreading the words.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub, I'm once again unfamiliar with the lingo, I'm not Simon?? She's nice but, not sure I see anything further than a friendship. Gaz and him are picking out an outfit for me, she wants to meet up for bowling apparently. I just want to be with Rose...

Clenching your fist, you shut the diary and toss it aside, feeling all kinds of emotions. Upset that John had never truly looked at you the way you'd looked at him. The way he never wanted you, like you wanted him.

Every time you'd seen him online on Whatsapp, but still hadn't opened your messages, he was ghosting you? Sure after a while of being friends, his behaviour gradually changed, accompanied with rapid texts, but you felt like this relationship was built on lies.

Did he even want to go bowling with you that day? Did you win because he purposely let you, because he was bored and wanted to go home, be with Rose instead? When he asked you to be his girlfriend, did he ask you with Rose in mind?

The ding of the oven stopped your trail of thoughts, so many questions swirling around your head. You walk out of the study, slamming the door behind you, the combined mess of dust and cobwebs remaining untouched.

The glass name plate falls to the ground, the edge shattering, with shards of clear glass laying dangerously on the wooden floor.

A couple of hours go by and the doorknob rattles at 8:45 P.M. on the dot. John was never late when he had to come home to you.

He reaches base at 7:30, drives exacting an hour to your shared home, after making a quick pit stop at the florists within 10 minutes to give you a freshly scented bouquet of red roses.

Roses. So that's why he'd give them you every time...

He makes sure to leave him 5 minutes of spare time, which was designated to flipping open a small metal notebook you'd gifted him, and writing his thoughts down. And once those 5 minutes were up, he places the notepad back into his jacket pocket and practically runs towards the front door.

"Dove, I'm home!" He exclaimed, gently placing his belonging on the floor, before walking into the living floor, where you sat on the sofa with your legs and arms crossed. (MY BITCH POSE IS NASTY)

"Sweetheart, you didn't run up to me at the door, you alright love?" He sits next to you, his calloused and freshly bruised arms rubbing your knee.

The silence was deafening and you couldn't find it in yourself to look at him after all you've read.

He takes it as a cue to continue, "I got you some roses, baby. Your favourite-"

"When did I say they were my favourite?"

John blinks at the interruption, "I mean, you don't like them? It's tradition to bring the same red roses for you every time I'm back..."

"And when did I say I liked them? Are they my favourite? Or are they her favourite?" You shift towards him, anger evident in your voice.

"Her? Who? Sweetheart, what's going on?"

"I mean, come on man, you like floral shit that much that now you're making me wear it?"

"You...don't like floral scents? Did you want tulips instead, baby?"

Your eyebrows are furrowed in annoyance by his confusion.

"It doesn't matter if I wanted tulips, John, it's the fact that YOU like roses. In fact you've like Roses this entire time! Don't act like you like tulips 'cos you don't- to be honest I don't think you ever have!" You rant, handing running through your hair.

"I mean I like both honey, roses are just, um, prettier?" He sounds like he's asking you rather than telling you.

"Of course roses are prettier to you- that's all that you're fucking used to you. It's always roses, roses, roses. You're so obsessed with fucking roses, you never gave tulips a bloody chance!"

"Are we still talking about flowers-"

"And when you do give tulips a chance, you're still thinking about roses- how red they are, how pretty they are, how they need to be watered every 5 fucking minutes, even then there's already someone to water those damn. Red. Roses."

"I- I mean I like tulips too, baby-"

"No. You don't. No, you don't. Tulips are just the safest options for you, cos someone already plucked out those fucking roses. Cos roses don't want you."

You're standing up now, and John's attempts to speak are futile with every sentence you shout.

"No. In fact, roses has never wanted you, roses look better with someone else, and ol' poor John has no more roses, so he goes and waters some unwanted tulips instead!"

John stands up, towering over your shaking frame, his hands come up to stroke your biceps, but he's pushed away.

"I mean, did John ever even like tulips? Or was he faking it cos he never got roses? Was tulips just the safe option? Does John still want roses after all the years tulips have been there for him?"

You left out a pained cry, you didn't even notice the tears leaking out of your eyes.

"Does John even like tulips? Does John even love tulips?"

His hands wipe your tears away, and he brings you into his chest, and you don't attempt to push him away this time.

"Does you even love me, John?" You break down into his arms, letting him carrying you into the bedroom, where he places you gently on the bed, while you hiccup through your uneven sobs. He smells the stench of wine through your shaking breath, whilst stroking your hair, and you slowly fall into a deep slumber with your head pressed against his still uniform-clad chest.

The clock hits midnight and John gets up, trying not to wake you up, grabbing his sweats from the drawer and walking to the bathroom across the hall, in order to not wake you up, from what looked like a well-needed rest.

As he trudges out of the bedroom and through the corridor, the reflection of the broken glass catches his eyes and he squints in the darkness, squatting down to pick a small shard. As he lifts the remains of the nameplate, hooking it back to the door, he steps over the mess into the study to retrieve a dust pan and brush.

Flicking the lights on, he's met with what looks like a scene from the reality TV show - Hoarders. So starts cleaning quickly, picking up the duster and bunching up the paperwork from the floor, the pot of pens that had seemed to be knocked down, the diary he'd used to write in...hold on-

Picking up the diary, John flicks through the entries, the book naturally opening to the last open slide.

He begins reading the last entry.

19th December 2020

Thought me and Rose would go back to the pub for another drink for the holidays, but she's going back to his place. Seems they're taking the next steps with meeting the families.

Soap's annoyed at how I'm 'ghosting' the girl I met at the pub....

"Oh...my tulip, I've never loved roses as much as I loved you." He mumbles to himself, whilst simultaneously cringing at his previously written words, immediately throwing the book back on the floor.

It's past breakfast when you wake up, throat and eyes painfully dry from last night's crying session, forcing yourself to drag yourself to the bathroom. You've forgotten that John had come home last night, as your met with a familiar empty bed.

After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you walk downstairs, being face to face with the naked back of Captain John Price.

The smell of chocolate pancakes waft towards your nose, as you look around the kitchen, the room garnished with a variety of different flowered bouquets, with so many variations of plants.

Bundles of dahlias and lotuses, orchids and lilies, carnations and irises, roses and tulips.

John turns to your footsteps, smiling at his perfect woman.

"Baby, good mornin'" He greets you, placing a single rose into your hair, and pecking your forehead warmly.

"John, listen about last night-"

"It was the old diary, wasn't it?" he asks.

You nod, ashamed for your abrupt behaviour yesterday. John lifts your chin up, resting his forehead against yours.

"Rose never taught me how to love like you did."

"John, you don-" His pointer finger is pressed against your lips.

"Reading those words from the past, I can see how it may have painted a different picture of my feelings. But let me assure you, my love, that you are the one I adore with all my heart."

Your stroke his face, heart warming to his words.

"Every rose I brought home was a symbol of my love for you, not because it was her favorite, but because it reminded me of the beauty and grace that you bring into my life. And those tulips, they represent the new beginnings and the fresh start that we share together.

My love for you is unwavering and unconditional. You are my tulip, my true love, and I vow to cherish and adore you for all eternity. Please forgive me for any pain or doubt my past words may have caused."

"John..."

He hands you his notepad from from his back pocket, beckoning you to open it.

You look at the first entry.

19th February 2021

I mentioned how I journal sometimes to her, and she bought me a new notepad, it's cute how she calls it a diary. Things are looking good. Bowling's our thing, I let her win because seeing her smile means I've won too. I'm asking her out tonight, Soap cried real tears when I told him.

You turn the page.

20th July 2021

Our 6 month anniversary. Took her to a field of roses and tulips, though nothing compares to her beauty.

The next one.

17th September 2021

I seldom think of Rose, I have my tulip on my mind now. Rose retired, and the team celebrated last night. She hugged me and thanked me for being a good captain. She also acknowledged my previous feelings for her. Man that was uncomfortable, but I reassured her I'm with my tulip now. I love my tulip.

I've always preferred tulips anyway.

And the next.

5th July 2022

Our 500 day anniversary. I want to propose.

17th September 2022

She said yes!! She may be my fiance, but I've already started calling her my wife, not legally yet at least...illegally?

28rd December 2023

We married 30th November. The day we met. Xmas was amazing, I can't see myself with anyone but her. I'm getting deployed tomorrow though.

You look at the most recent entry, dated last night.

16th February 2024

Missed the valentines day with my missus. Hope these roses are enough, though I wanted to get something better. Tulips for my tulip. They ran out haha. Missed my girl, missed her like I've never missed someone before. Soap's right, deployment suck.

Tears welled up in your eyes, not from pain or doubt this time, but from overwhelming joy and love for the man standing before you.

"I'm sorry, John," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't mean to doubt your love."

He smiled, a genuine and heartfelt smile that reached his eyes, pulling you into a warm embrace. "No need for apologies, my tulip. Thank you for teaching me how to love."

And in that moment, amidst the scent of chocolate pancakes and fresh flowers, it felt like you love story was just beginning, filled with trust, forgiveness, and a deep, unwavering love for each other.

That should not have taken me 2 days to complete what in the world. Also if i was tulip, that old diary is going straight into a fire! Barbecue anyone? <3 Quick Notes: I head-cannoned Rose to look like Sergeant Calhoun from Fix-it-Felix lolololol woman crush fr i get u john boy I've decided to start a tag list! -> lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum

[castillon02]

When Jason starts to prioritize cooperation as well as vengeance, Tim suspects Jason's self-control still isn't that great. Since he's Tim, well...

He conducts some tests.

Hood is about to murder someone that they need information from when Tim calls out, "Hey, Hood, has anyone ever told you that you're a Decepticon wannabe who probably fucks himself to the sound of his own robot voice?"

Hood stills.

The drug dealer who sold tenth-grader Benny Garcia fentanyl gapes in a way that shows off his recently-missing teeth.

Hood drops the dealer in a heap and turns his shitkicker combat boots in Tim's direction.

Tim bolts. Batman will swoop in to continue the dealer's interrogation; he and Hood have figured out a good-cop-bad-cop thing, though Batman still seems bemused about the chance to be 'good cop.'

Hood races after him.

---

Tim makes it to a safe house off of Robinson Park. He probably lost Hood about half an hour ago, but it never hurts to be careful. Especially when---oh, shit.

"This place is filthy," Jason says, sitting on the kitchen counter that Tim never uses and looking with disdain at Tim's collection of empty energy drink cans, takeout boxes, and crime yarn. Jason's not wearing his helmet or domino, and he taps his boot heels softly against the cabinet door like a little kid. Not exactly danger signals.

But for a moment, all Tim can look at is the boots. It's stupid; the knife at his neck was closer to fatal. But the kicking had hurt the worst.

"Since you apparently have time to run your mouth," Jason says, "and since someone stole my target, it seems like we both have time to clean up in here. I went out and got trash bags." He nudges a box on the counter next to him. The trash bags are the sturdy kind, not the flimsy cheap kind or the extra-strength hide-the-body-parts kind.

Tim has been meaning to get trash bags for this place for three weeks. It's just that he doesn't visit often, and when he does it's usually when he's injured or tired, and he could get things delivered but that's a paper trail he could avoid if he just made time to visit the bodega down the street... "You're a trash bag," he says, even though it doesn't make sense.

Jason rolls his eyes. "Just for that, we're mopping the floor too. Luckily, I came prepared." He hops down from the counter and opens the little mystery closet next to the fridge. Inside: a broom, a Swiffer, a bucket, a pack of scrub brushes still in their plastic, and a jug of bleach.

Ohhh, that's why the closet is so narrow. It's supposed to hold cleaning supplies. Right. Tim definitely knew that. Tim definitely doesn't just have a roll of paper towels...somewhere...that he sometimes puts dish soap on.

He squints at Jason. Still no green danger-eyes. "Darcy and Elizabeth would never let you be part of a throuple with them," he tries.

Jason pulls out a trash bag. "They've got issues anyway."

"Helen Keller would make up new words so she could sign how ugly your face is."

"She was a socialist," Jason says. He holds the bag and gestures at Tim's kitchen table. "So we'd probably just talk about organizing the working class. I don't think looks would come into it. Also, way to be a dick."

"You're so pathetic that Jane Eyre would give up on you like she didn't give up on Rochester," Tim says, figuring he did the research for this attack, so he might as well use it.

Jason actually laughs a little bit. "First of all, there's a lot of power exchange going on in that decision, so jot that down," he says. "Second of all." He looks Tim in the face. "If I start to lose my temper, I'll leave, okay? Or you can just ask me to."

"Even if I asked right now?" Tim asks.

"Even if you asked right now," Jason confirms, though he eyeballs Tim's mess.

Jason's still holding the trash bag. Hands out, open body language, seemingly not homicidal.

Tim had planned for a lot of things with this encounter, including a body bag. Trash bags weren't one of his considered variables. He starts picking up empty cans. "This one can be for recycling," he says, dumping the cans into Jason's bag. New things from old materials. Jason likes that symbolism shit, right?

(Though...new things. Old materials. If there's anyone who ought to be good at that, it's someone who got raised from the dead.

Tim smirks and keeps the thought to himself. Operation: Limitless has been a startling success; he doesn't need to verbalize all his inside thoughts now.)

("Kid, I can tell you're thinking about a zombie joke," Jason says anyway. "You can only tell me after we've brought this shit-heap back to life.")

[captain-huggy-bear]

I have my MOT and service coming up for my car and I hate booking it, I hate doing it, I hate it all and Clay feels like the sort to 100% do it for you so here's a short drabble/prompt thing... Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You're sat staring at your phone in the kitchen, trying to work yourself up to do it, to just pick the phone up, call them and book it all in...but you really won't want to. Every year you hate the process of getting your car serviced. You know its important, of course, that's why you make yourself do it, but you hate it. You hate booking it, the fact it always has to be a phone call. You hate taking your car in, showing your service book and dealing with the overwhelmingly male environment. You hate how they always try to convince you you need more work doing on your car than you do, how they try to overcharge you, how they talk to you like you're an idiot and you hate the resulting bill and awkward pick up.

Clayton comes into the kitchen from the garage, a dirty rag being used to clean his hands of grease from where he'd been changing his car's engine oil. You're staring so intently at your phone that he thinks you might actually cause it to explode in a minute, your shoulders are tense as he turns the sink on to wash his hands.

"Why are you staring at your phone like that, baby?" He asks as he lathers his hands in soap, bracelets clinking, shirt rolled up to his elbows. How he manages to make washing his hands attractive you're not sure but he does.

"Because I have to call the mechanics about my car service and I don't want to..." You mumble, pouting a little as you look up at him from beneath your lashes. Even if you weren't he'd still have made the same offer.

"What's the number?" Clayton's drying his hands off and reaching for his phone within seconds of your answer, fingers hovering over the screen ready to type the number in.

"Huh?" The way you blink at him, pout still firmly in place, but brows furrowing in confusion is adorable and it makes him huff out a laugh. His smile, your favourite thing, all crooked and dimpled, teeth poking out from underneath his top lip.

"What's the number? I'll book it and I'll take your car in, you can borrow my car for work for the day." He comes to lean on the counter next to you, hip popped slightly, thumbs still hovering to type in the number of your mechanic.

"You'd do that?" It shouldn't make your chest ache with affection, it's a simple thing, but it does because you hate doing this and he's offered without hesitation to do it for you, to make your life easier. It makes you want to kiss him, something so simple, but so meaningful.

"Yeah, I don't mind. You know how I feel about cars, besides stops you getting swindled over your shitty Vauxhall." Clayton laughs, phone being placed on the counter, as you gasp in offense at his comment about your car, even as you do he's reaching out for you, hands landing on your hips to pull you close. It doesn't matter that you cross your arms over your chest and he can't get you as close as he wants, he can't help but have a hand on you.

"Gimli isn't shitty!" You try to defend your car, your car you've had for a decade, your first ever car. The red little car that's carried you through university, your big job, to now.

"He's 10 years old and creaks, baby...I wish you'd just let me buy you a new car." Clay's been trying to buy you a new car for almost as long as you've been dating, but every time you refuse. You're attached to your car and you hate the idea of Clay spending that much money on you. He hates the idea that you're driving a car that might break down at any second when he's not there to help.

"But, Gimli..." You pout, arms dropping so he can pull you chest to chest, one of his hands smoothing a path up your side to cup your cheek. His hand is almost as big as your face, a perfect resting spot for your cheek.

"...Gimli..." He sighs, "s'cute how attached you are."

"Shut up..." You mumble out.

"Oh, so you don't want me to take your car to the mechanics?" Clayton goes to pull away from you, inching back with an expectant grin. It works because even though he's joking, even though he's being silly you can't help but wrap your arms around his waist, chin pressing into his chest and look up at him with a sweet apology on your lips.

"No, please, 'm sorry...I love you."

He grins down at you all teeth and dimples, a strand of brunet hair falling into his blue eyes and it only makes him more handsome, the way he loves to tease even as you both know he's still going to take your car to the mechanics. Because he loves you and anything to make your life easier is worth it in his eyes.

"Love you too, even if you're using me for your vehicle check-ups."

"I'm not! I promise!" You laugh, cheek rubbing against his shirt, arms tightening around him as one of his own comes to rest at the back of your neck, kneading the tight muscle there. "I'm thankful though, thank you...I hate doing it."

"I know, that's why I offered, sweet girl." He says it so simply, like that's just something you do. That anyone would do. When you know it's not. Your ex had never offered, he never even considered it. But, Clay? It's like he lives to serve, to make your life as easy, as simple as possible and it makes you love him so much more.

He leans down all sweet, smiling as he kisses you. It's so utterly domestic, the idea that he's taking your car to get serviced, that he's being the man of the house in a very traditional sense. You can picture the rest of your life with him in that moment. The tasks he'd take on his shoulders, the burdens he'd lift for you.

Clay starts taking your car to the mechanics every year from that point, like clockwork he phones up, books an appointment and like clockwork makes sure your car is safe for you to drive.

The few times you go with him to pick your car up, it's an experience, the way he haggles down the price, the way he argues that a type of work was superficial and unnecessary or downright shouldn't cost the price they're setting.

It not only takes the weight and stress from your shoulders, but there's something about Clay, about the way he argues and haggles and knows his stuff that always makes you admire just how attractive he is and if you can't help but want to kiss his face off when the two of you finally get home? Well, that's his reward for always taking care of your car for you.

[flowersandfashion]

no, it's not?! this is concept art by the costume designer Linda Muir, not a shot from the film!

lily rose depp in Nosferatu (2024)

[supercap2319]

What the hell is this?”

Stefan had a long night of doing stupid tasks for Klaus until the asshole hybrid returned to Mystic Falls. After he was forced to turn off his humanity, Stefan traded in his hero hair and brooding for blood lust and aggression. Things were starting to get boring in this town, and Stefan was sick of waiting around like a fucking lap dog.

He was looking forward to chilling in his room for the night. Blasts some Bon Jovi music. Maybe swipe a couple of Damon's blood bags. The sound of his bathroom shower running caught Stefan's attention when he entered his room. He walks towards the bathroom, half expecting to find Damon taking a shower in there. Again. But to Stefan's surprise, it was someone else entirely.

Standing behind Stefan's glass door shower was Grayson Gilbert. The steam from the hot water had fogged up the glass, but Stefan could make out the image of Grayson washing his hair with Stefan's imported Italian soap and shampoo. Watched the soapy suds run down the witch's back before Stefan looked back up, and asked his question.

Grayson turns to him with an innocent smile. A smile that had gotten Grayson his way on more than one occasion, but without his humanity, Stefan wasn't fazed by it anymore. “Oh, hey. Welcome home. Hope you don't mind.”

“What the hell are you doing in my shower, Grayson?”

“Isn't it obvious? Having a shower, and between you and me, this is a lot safer than Damon's bathtub. I'm pretty sure it's covered in STD germs.” Grayson jokes. Stefan was not amused, even if it could possibly be true about Damon's bathtub conquests.

“Look, Grayson. I've had a really shitty day, and you're only adding to the misery, so if you could try to get my humanity back another time and leave, that would be greatly appreciated. Or I break your arm.” Stefan said.

Grayson turns off the water and steps outside, not bothering to cover himself up. It's not like Stefan hasn't seen it all before. “Wow. I thought that Ripper Stefan was supposed to be the life of the party. What's wrong? Klaus ground you?”

Stefan rolled his eyes. “If you're trying to provoke me or something, it's probably not a good idea to do it to a humanity-less vampire. Especially one with no self-control. I could drain you dry like a juice box before you even get a word out.”

“So dramatic. Look, all I'm saying is that if you really are the same Stefan, who was the life of the party in your journals. The one who impressed Klaus and Rebekah, I wanna party with that guy.” Grayson said, walking past Stefan and into the bedroom. Stefan watched Grayson go through his drawers and closet, arms across his chest. “What are you doing?”

“I left some of my clothes here. It should still be here from all those times we…” Grayson let that sentence hang in the air as he put on a pair of black briefs (Stefan's by the way) and then went for some pants. Pretty soon he was dressed in Stefan's old purple Bon Jovi shirt, and a worn-out leather jacket.

“That's all my stuff.” Stefan noted.

“I'm just borrowing it. I'll return it after the party.”

“What party are you talking about?”

Grayson smirks. “My friend, Kuba invited me to a rave tonight. Apparently he and some Gypsies are going to be there. It's a couple of towns over. Let's go.”

Stefan's eyebrows were raised. “And why would I do that?”

“Because you're the fun brother now, right? I told you. I want to party with the Ripper, so let's party.” Grayson said. “You know I'm just gonna steal your car if you don't come.”

“Fine. But if I kill anyone, it's on you.” Stefan said, following Grayson out of the room.

[mayflora-18]

Incorrect CoD Quotes #12 (aka more Pinterest 💩)

Gaz: *walking down the stairs in a flannel hoodie*

Price: Hey Gaz, the 90’s called-

Gaz: Yeah, because they couldn’t fucking text!

Price: Goddamn it! I’m getting tired of my men owning me.

Ghost: What did you expect? We’re YOUR men!

————

Price: You’re done, Simon. You’ve broken 68 bones.

Ghost: Boss for my dying wish-

Price: -You’re not dying-

Ghost: -Please break one more bone for me.

Price: Absolutely not.

————

*when Sherlock first met Los Vaqueros*

Sherlock: Hi! I’m Sherlock! Your base’s really cool! Not to say that you guys aren’t cool, Colonel Vargas. Thank you for letting us borrow it.

Rudy: Ale.

Alejandro:

Rudy: Can we…

Alejandro:

Rudy: Can we adopt her?

Alejandro:

-Bonus-

Nikolai: She’s already taken.

————

Soap: I know you said not to call you unless it was an emergency, ma’am. But it is and we need your help.

Laswell: Is the house on fire?

Soap: No but-

Laswell: Then it’s not an emergency. Leave me and John alone and have Ghost take care of it.

*she hangs up*

Gaz: What did she say?

Soap: Idk she said it wasn’t an emergency.

Ghost, struggling to push an oak bookshelf off of himself: NOT AN EMERGENCY?!!

————

Sherlock: It’s rather muggy today, don’t you think? Sherlock: *sips coffee from a bowl* Roach: *looks outside, sees all the mugs in the lawn* Roach: It is... Roach: *sips coffee from a bigger bowl* ----- Gaz: *texting Laswell* Laswell! Help, I'm being kidnapped! Laswell: *replying* Where are you? Gaz: I'm with some strange person! In a car. Help! Laswell: I'll call John. Price: *answering his cell* 'ello? Laswell: Where's Kyle? He told me that he's being kidnapped. Price: Gaz? Whaddya mean, he's sitting in the back seat right her- Price: Price: I'll call you back. *hangs up* Price: *turns around in his seat to be facing Gaz* GARRICK! MY BEARD WILL GROW BACK! Gaz: *pushing himself against the car door* WHO ARE YOU?! ----- [Soap opens the door to his room to find Ghost standing there with a bag of snacks in his hand] Soap: What are you doing here? Ghost: I'm here to babysit you. Soap: Babysit?! I don't need a babysitter, I'm a grown man! Soap: *opens the bag of snacks* Soap: Oooh, a juice box. ----- Soap, after the Channel Tunnel: Am I in hell? Shepherd: No, if you were down here, you'd be on a throne and the devil would be panicking. ----- Nikolai: Sherlock! Get away from Ghost, he's dangerous! Price: It's OK, Ghost could never hurt a woman! Ghost drawing knives: IS THAT A CHALLENGE?! Sherlock: omg Ghost, your knives are so shiny and cool!

Ghost:

Nikolai:

Price:

Ghost: I require a different woman!

—————

Price: What is wrong with you?

Graves: I have this weird self-esteem issue where I hate myself but still think I’m better than everyone else.

—————

Price: I think I’m coming down with something, I’ve been feeling nauseous lately.

Gaz: Maybe you’re pregnant.

Price:

Gaz:

Price: I don’t know who’s the bigger idiot right now, you because you suggested it, or me because I just had a heart attack.

—————

[wallowaffles]

love all of these!

for those who want to know who made them: 1. Vickyzzeix

2/3. luckycessy on twitter

4. artzypaw

5. calista-222

[penelopepine]

Don't be a stranger! Pt. 5

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Simon "Ghost" Riley x FemReader

Content: Neighbors AU, fluff, developing relationship, slight angst, mentioned past deaths

Upon entering the room Simon sees that Johnny and Gaz are already there talking to one another. Silently walking inside he takes a seat next to the others and places the box in front of them all. 

“What’s this?” Gaz looks from Simon to the box. 

“Cookies, I’ve been told I have to share.” 

“These aren’t poisoned are they? Who are they from?”

"They're from his new lady friend! Ain’t that right Ghost?" Johnny interjects before he could answer. 

It seems Johnny was still hunting for gossip about who it was that sent him a package, “Quiet down, MacTavish.” 

Johnny and Gaz share a laugh between the two of them before both reach out for one of your treats. He had debated actually sharing these with them as he knows they'll be asking for more now. They'll start asking about you, and he won't be able to give them a clear answer; not yet anyway. 

“Tell your lass that these are heavenly Lt.!” Johnny moans out as he takes a bite of one of your cookies. 

The regret of sharing is already rearing its head it seems. He glares at the man and says, "MacTavish." 

It was Gaz who noticed his discomfort right away from the other sergeant's comment. "Come on now, Soap don't antagonize him; Ghost will share what he wants when he's ready." He gives Simon a quick reassuring nod, "but really thank them for us for making these!" 

"Will do." 

It was at that moment when Price finally stepped inside the room as well, "Good evening lads, what's the reason for this?" He points at the box of treats in front of them with a questioning look on his face. 

Johnny clearly goes to answer the question before Gaz hits him on the chest with a pointed look. He then looks towards him, clearly leaving Simon to answer with whatever he felt comfortable admitting about you. "A friend." 

Price seemed shocked for a moment that he had even said that much, "Ah a friend; well you'll have to introduce sometime." 

"Hmm." 

Later he tells himself; later he would introduce you to the team. Once the two of you have spent more time together, maybe once the two of you were together. 

Price claps his hands together once as he makes his way towards the front, “Now, let’s get started shall we!" The projector is turned on and the picture of a man appears on the screen.  "This here is the man we're hunting for, and Laswell estimates this will be a 2 week op. So prepare yourselves for that lads."

-

It was the next day when Simon tried to call you. He hoped with each ring that you would pick up, he didn't want to leave you with a voice message before disappearing from you. Hearing your voice one last time before leaving would also ease his mind while away. 

Just as he was about to give up and started to mentally prepare what he was going to say to you. 

"Hey Simon! Everything ok, you're calling me a lot earlier than you normally would?" You sound worried, which is exactly the opposite of what he wants right now. 

"Love, everything is alright. Just letting you know that I'm not going to be available for a few weeks." 

It's quiet for a few seconds before you respond, "When are you getting sent out?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"You'll be safe won't you?"

"I'll do my best." Simon would do anything for you; all you needed to do was ask, "and I'll always have a piece of you to remind me to do that." He smiles down at the bracelet, and lightly fidgets with the heart charm.

You give a soft laugh over the phone, "You'll have to make me one next time you’re here. That way I'll have a piece of you too." 

He promises to himself that he'll do that for you. As soon as this op is finished he's going to talk to Price about going on leave again. The man already has an idea of what is going on so hopefully he won't question him too much. Considering every other time he was practically dragged off base and forced to go on leave. 

"I will, love. I'll also see how soon I can visit again after I get back to base." 

"Just let me know when and I'll be there to walk you home from the car!" 

The two of you continue to talk for a few more minutes before saying your goodbyes to one another. He can't wait to finish this op and get home to you. 

-

The last two weeks have been absolute hell, but it was all hopefully going to come to an end in just a few hours. All there was to do now was wait; which led him to laying down right next to Johnny as they watched the warehouse. 

“I spy with my little eye something…blue.” Johnny whispers next to him. This has been going on for 10 mins now and he was debating with himself if killing the sergeant would be worth it. 

“Johnny.” 

“Wrong, guess again.” 

Killing him is becoming more and more worth it, “Hush.” 

“You’re no fun Lt.” Johnny pouted before changing into a gin, “How’s Beads doing by the way?” 

“Beads?” 

Johnny points to where the bracelet usually sits on his wrist, “Beads, your lass!” 

Simon had almost forgotten that he had seen the bracelet while he was moving it to a more secured pocket on his vest. “If I tell you, will you stop being so annoying about this?”

“Cross my heart!” 

"Beads," He doesn't necessarily like the nickname, but he doesn't feel comfortable saying your name right now, "Is doing good. She loved the rock you tripped over." 

"You fucking sent her that rock?"

"It's displayed in her living room and everything." 

When Johnny doesn't immediately respond he looks towards him only to see a soft look gracing his face. "You really like this lass don't you?"  

That is what scared him, because he did care about you. He tried to fight it at first; the two of you were never meant to interact after he helped you in your flat. Then the daily morning walks to your work started right after, and he couldn't avoid you after that. “I might.” 

"That's a love confession coming from you." 

"Maybe it is." He whispers to himself, but based on Johnny's shocked face he probably heard as well. 

"Ghost-" 

“Target spotted; get ready to move in.” Price's voice comes over the comms interrupting whatever Johnny was going to say.

The topic is immediately dropped after that, and two of them focus on the task once more.

-

When the plane finally landed back on base Simon made a beeline to his locker to get his phone. Admittedly the talk with Johnny did help him sort out some of his feelings that he had for you. Simon was going to try and get a hard read on you when he goes on leave again; try and see if you were also wanting to take the friendship to the next level. 

Turning on his phone he sees that he has a few texts and a voicemail message from you. Reading the text first; there are simple updates about your work and random thoughts you’ve had throughout the day. It was the voicemail that made Simon’s blood go cold. 

“Hey Simon,” you sound nervous, that's the first thing he picks up on, “Can you give me a call when you get this. A couple of Russian guys came by today asking about you. I don’t want to worry you, but they were asking a lot of strange questions. Stuff about where you were, and when you would be getting back. It’s probably nothing, but I just felt like I should tell you. I’ll talk to you later…Bye.” 

Panic was the only thing going through Simon right now. Quickly checking he sees that the voice message was from a few days ago. 

“Fuck!” For all he knew you could be dead right now. He couldn’t go home just to see another person he cared about dead on the floor again. 

He calls you; each unanswered ring is just another nail in your coffin. 

“Hello.” 

Taglist: @nexthyperfix @yourdaydreamerfan @tf141gloryhole @just-pure-trash @definitelynotaclown

@arminarlertssword @openup-yourmind

[hurtspideyparker]

For a request how about a fluffy winterhawk doing shopping to refill their first aid kit? I imagine between the two of them it sees a lot of use.

The pair walk at a leisurely pace in the 24 hour CVS.

There's a number of odd characters, including themselves, but that's what they get for shopping at 2 am. There's the goth cashier, a man in an oddly tall cowboy hat, a couple of teenagers messing around in the chip section, and of course the two Avengers with blooming bruises from the fight they just finished. Which is really not their fault. I mean, who does crime after midnight? Bad people, probably.

"Wanna get some ice cream?" Clint asks while tossing some frozen peas into the basket Bucky is carrying.

"I don't think we'll have enough room."

"Come on man, one Ben & Jerry's isn't gonna break the bank."

"One, really? For both of us? You threw a spoon at my head last time I poked in your pint. I just wanted to try the flavour."

Clint thinks on that.

"Hm, you're right, you're right. We'll do a wrap around at the end and I'll just carry it."

They leave the icy doors and head straight for the first aid aisle. They spot the gauze and bandages first, taking a moment to analyze the different brands, sizes, and types, before Clint takes an arm to the shelf and swipes the entire thing into their basket. Bucky nods approvingly before speaking up.

"This is your fault y'know, you procrastinate."

Clint scoffs, "I'll have you know it was your week to do the shopping."

"The first aid kit's been empty since last week, when you sprained your wrist. Remember when you tried using a compression sock as a wrap. Also, you're bleeding on the flyers."

Clint looks down at the paper. That indeed is his blood. Another drop falls from his nose onto the shelf, "oop, my bad." He grabs Bucky's sweatshirt and uses the corner to wipe up the blood.

Bucky rolls his eyes and grabs a box of band-aids off the next shelf.

"Just for that I'm getting you the hello kitty ones," Bucky pulls out an evil looking purple bunny and then tosses the box into the basket.

He peels it open and places the bandage with care over the bridge of the archer's nose.

"Joke's on you, Kuromi fits my colour scheme."

Bucky stares at him blankly for a moment.

"I speak 7 languages and yet I still manage to not understand you in your native one, which is honestly more impressive."

"Why thank you," Clint gives a cocksure smile.

They move along, tossing in some medical tape, 4 types of pain meds in giant bulk containers, and heat packs.

Bucky picks up a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

"Woah man, that stuff isn't right for you anymore. It's all about good ol' soap and water now. Don't you keep up with medical news?"

"No, and I doubt you do." he says with a raised brow.

"Okay fine, Bruce told me, but still."

While Bucky doesn't trust anything Clint finds online, he does trust Bruce Banner, so he puts the bottle down.

"Vaseline's in the beauty aisle, brb."

Clint jogs around the corner and Bucky calls out to his back, "stop saying abbreviations out loud!"

Bucky continues wandering on his own, collecting a few random things into the quickly filling basket.

"Incoming!" Bucky doesn't even react as a jar of Vaseline and some tweezers come flying over the shelving and land perfectly on the pile.

Bucky isn't even in his original spot anymore, how did—nope, not going there. If he asks, he'll just get told "because I'm fucking Hawkeye," with that stupid charming smirk that secretly gives him cuteness aggression.

Bucky Barnes does not get cuteness aggression.

He turns around the corner the same time Clint steps back in front of him.

"Hiya, did you miss me?"

"No," Bucky says, placing a little kiss on Clint's lips.

"Aw, you totally did." Clint fists Bucky's top and pulls him in for another kiss.

The man goes easily, melting into the familiar taste of copper and the sting in his lip from where someone hit him in the face with the butt of their rifle. The stubble is an even more familiar roughness, closer to a tickle. Clint pulls back with a salacious pop, bringing his thumb up to wipe away the spare saliva in the corner of Bucky's mouth.

They hear a strong tone of throat clearing nearby, looking up to see cowboy hat staring at them in disgust with a cart full of dog food.

"Evening sir," Clint waves, then gives a little tip of his imaginary hat. The man just shakes his head then needs moving.

"C'mon, get your ice cream and lets go."

Clint acquiesces, reluctantly pulling away from Bucky's warmth.

After getting the promised ice cream they head straight for the self checkout. The last time they went to a cashier-only pharmacy to restock their first aid they got stared at like they were planning on cutting up the cashier and selling her kidneys (the sewing kit really didn't help), so dumping the pile of gauze away from the employees prying eyes saves them from talking to the cops.

The receipt takes ages to print, Clint grabbing more and more of it like a magician pulling scarves from a hat.

"Babe, will you tie me up with the CVS receipt and do dirty, dirty things to me later?"

Bucky huffs out a laugh and pushes at the other's shoulder, "shut up freak."

Cowboy hat decides to pull up to a nearby checkout just at that very moment, freezing and sending the pair a look like he's personally casting them to the depths of hell.

Clint turns to him, a mischievous smirk that could mean nothing good.

"Sir, would you tie me up with this CVS receipt and—"

Bucky clamps a hand over the man's lips and forcibly drags him out of the building.

[itstheghostofmypast]

Pollen Love (1/2)

Florist Choi San x (F)Reader

Summary: The world had always been a bit too dull for the florist, a bit too rough for his petal like soft heart, stomping on it whenever anyone would deem fit - but was she any different? If so, why was she out of his reach, why did the world pluck away the flower that was supposed to put his bouquet back together?

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Warnings: heavy self-criticism, violence, language

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4.3k

Est.Read Time: 25 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @san-network

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: A two part treat till I work on my main series.

"Woah there, what happened- did the boss come at ya, at like-" he turned to check the giant clock at the opposite end of the floor, "8 am- you want me to go knock some sense into him?" he asked, pulling out a dozen tissues from the 'free tissue box' and pressing them on her nose, signalling for her to blow, only for her to smack his hand, and point at something.

"What- oh" he stared at the bouqet of blue roses wrapped in a pastel yellow paper, all tied up with a with bow. "Wait- he made a move on you?"

Snatching the tissues she blew in an extremely ungraceful manner before throwing them away, "You idiot, they're your birthday gift, take them away before I die."

His fingers touched the soft petal of a rose, smiling at the sweet gesture before turning around to hug her only to be smacked across the face with a file. Letting out a mixture of a whimper and a growl he stared at her, hand on his now pink cheek, "So many mixed signals."

"I'll kill you, wash your hands! You know im deathly allergic to pollen!" protesting she sat down on her swivel chair, crossing her legs and glaring up at him. "And what mixed signals, you should be thankful I didn't shove them up your a** for not inviting me to your birthday party."

Letting out an exaggerated fake gasp he knelt down infront of her, placing a hand on his heart, "And for that I am truly sorry, my bestfriend since childhood, but please understand how the guys wanted me to go with them to a certain club where I couldn't possibly take you."

"You shouldn't be celebrating your birthday at a strip club anyway, it's extremely unhygienic," she mumbled, glancing at the flowers and then back at him on the floor on his knees, the usual Wooyoung theatrics.

"Yet, so entertaining -"

"You're disgusting."

"But a simple man."

"Get out of my cubicle".

That was three days ago, today was a Thursday, a regular, boring Thursday so did Wooyount expect to find another bouqte in his cubicle, no. Did he find one, yes, this had been going on since Monday and at this point Yunho and a few on the others floor had begun to assume there was something going on between the two. So, like any best friend,  he decided to confront her during break.

Turning off the faucet she shook her wet hands over the sink, looking in the mirror to check up on her makeup, her ears picking up the sound of the door opening, "There you are!"

Turning to look at the all too-familiar voice before letting out a shriek and throwing the bar of soap at him, as he ducked skillfully,  being all too aware of her habit of throwing things at him.

"THIS IS THE LADIES RESTROOM."

"Well I'm having lady issues," he said before aiming the bouquet of sunflowers at her, only for her to take a step back gasping, "My lady, mind you a horrifying one, has been leaving me these bouquets when I clearly know she doen't love me enough to face death each day." as soon as he was done they heard someone flush and the last stall open, his eyes widening in fear, about to make a run for it but she grabbed his hand, "Oh no, now you face the consequences."

"So, who are you in love with?"

"For f***'s sake." hissing she face palmed, Wooyoung's boistorous laugh echoing across the tiled walls. Before them, Yunho stood infront of the sink, rolling up his sleeves as he begun to wash his hands, turning his head to meet her questionng glare to which he shrugged, "Ladies washrooms are cleaner, men use toilets like pigs and..." moving closer to reach beside her, he pulling out a few tissues, "Ya'll have tissues."

Rolling her eyes at this  statement she turned to Wooyoung, motioning for him to move, only for him to move the bouqet closer to her face, watching her nose scruntch as she covered her mouth. Muffling out a whine, "Wooyoung, come on, its nothing, just let it go, I let go the fact that you went to strip club to your birthday and didnt celebrate with me-"

"THAT'S WHAT YOU TOLD HER ?"Yunho, who was now leaning against the counter hollered. That's when she noticed it, the silence, the way Wooyoung was shaking, in...fear. No...this mf wouldn't have...could he?

"Yunho" he hissed, slowly moving back as she stepped closer to him, "You a**hole." is all that escaped him before he made a beeline for the elevator, "I SWEAR I WANTED TO TAKE YOU BUT YOU HAD YOUR PROJECT THE NEXT DAY" he yelled running into the eventor, pressing on the close button before she could jump in. Unfortunately for him, she was able to stick her hand in before the doors closed, automatically opening again.

He backed into the opposite wall, "I c-can explain." holding the bouqet to cover his face until she snatched it and started beating him with it, "YOU PROMISED TO GO WITH ME- f*** I CAN NOT BELIEVE YOU WENT TO THE IMAGINE DRAGONS CONCERT WITHOUT ME!"

"IM- ow- SORRy-STOP"

The elevator stopped at a random floor and dinged, not that the two even pressed a button in this first place, they only stopped when someone cleared their throat. Pausing midscene the two- Wooyoung who was covered in petals and Y/N who was holding the dead beat bouquet,  the wrapping paper crumbled to shreds- looked the people standng at the entrance.

"Umm..."

"Everyone, but these two, are normal." Jongho explained and entered the lift, someone next to him nodding and entering. That's when Wooyoung noticed, buff dudes hang out with buff dudes, that and how his bestfriend was twitching, slowly moving behind him, trying to hide, like she was...shy? He hadn't seen her ever flinch around any other man, let alone shy away from one. It was at this point when is gaze moved from her, trailing to catch the face of the man standing next to Jongho, who was offering her a shy smile in return. He was an eight...or at max a nine...or 9.98- point is he wasn't extraordinary, in fact, when did he start working here? Wooyoung always knew everyone, and this strange, tall mountain of a man was not part of the everyone, nonetheless, the creep was disturbing his dear darling demon, which is why he chose to speak up.

"Haven't seen you before?" his words calm but with an edge to them causing Jongho to let out an exagerted sigh and the man to nod at him, an introvert huh, still had the guts to hit on her? Creep and a weirdo.

"He doesn't, I just wanted to show him the gym here." Jongho turned to face the two idiots, the lady who sends him her work in late almost every week and her scoundrel of a friend who makes sure to finish all the morning free muffins before the poor bear can reach the break room.

"I almost couldn't recognise you without the mask?" the stranger spoke in a hushed tone, causing her to dip her head even more, mumbling a, "I didn't think you would."

"You know this creep?" Wooyoung turned to her, before biting his lip when he felt her heel dig into his toe. Pretending she wasnt doing that she bowed in apology, only for him to smile at her, "It's alright, so, this is who you buy flowers for each day?" his voice as soft as the clouds, as smooth as velvet, though unknown to her, those words, the sight of her standing so close to the rude guy, watching them physically engage before the two had entered the lift had set something burning in him, anger? Jealousy?

F*** no, they were not for this moron, but would she tell him the real reason? Of course not, shaking her head, she was about to speak when Jongho cleared his throat, "Anyway, San, let's go ....and you two...stay out of trouble." with that he walked out, her frantic gaze meeting San's calm eyes, with one last dimpled smile he walked out with a "Hope to see you around Miss."

With the doors closing she bit her lip, this is not how she wanted to him to see her, this is not what she wanted him to think- wait, was he going to stop being nice to her? Or would he just treat her like any other customer? Or-

"So, that's him, huh?" his words broke her train of thought, slinging an arm over her shoulders, "That's the guy, you face death for each morning, the guy you are willing to buy for, because he got your itty bitty heart in his palm and he has -until today- not seen you without a mask, not because you're hygienic,  no, because you'd literally get an allergic attack and die?"

Sighing in defeat she rested her head on his shoulder, "I'm pathetic, aren't I?" as she let him lead them out to their floor, as fun as this was, they still had half of the day left and he had some investigating to do.

"Nah, not pathetic,  just desperate and stupid."

"Thanks, Woo."

"Anytime."

.

"You gonna do something or just stare at the weights?" Jongho asked as he got off the treadmill, noticing how his friend had been distracted ever since they got off the elevator. To be honest Jongho had brought him here because this was closer to work and San's shop, and since he'd get off work late it was easier for them to continue with their routine at this office gym, rather than the one near their apartment complex.

"Oh- no, sorry." San mumbled, sitting back on the bench, reaching to pick up a dumble, only to freeze at the next choice of words his friend spoke so casually, "Can't believe thats your masked lover."

"She isn't my lover." he hissed cranning his neck around to glare at the man who was now sitting on the bench next to him, chuckling before chugging down a whole bottle of water.

"No" sighing, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "She's got you whipped, but you didn't know she was in a relationship- you're such a romantic Sannie."

"I'll throw this at you. I swear." placing the dumble back down, grumbling he got up, no longer interested in working out anymore, choosing to stretch out the tension in his muscles instead.

"And I'm surprised you never bothered asking for her name."

"Drop it." with that he grabbed his duffle bag , "I'm going to hit the shower."

"Mhmmm...so what was more distracting? Her skirt or the fact that you saw her face for the first time-" Jongho's sentence was cut halfway when a towel was smacked on his face, San's attempt to shut him up before disappearing around the corner to the washrooms.

.

Today was not a good day. Well, yesterday wasnt one either, well it was till he found out that the lady he had been saving his extra silky ribbons and prettier flowers for was in fact in a relationship, or at least what looked like one. Today, he had gotten up earlier than expected, a minute before his alarm rang, which only added to his anger. Then the water ran out while showering, so he had to stumble out of the tub, eyes closed, trying to keep his eyes safe from the suds of his shampoo, almost tripping off what may have been his own pants. After that fiasco, he had missed the bus, which meant he was late, which meant he wasn't opening his flower shop, his pride and hardwork on time. But was he upset about that or the fact that since he was late, he wouldn't be able to see her today- wait why is he even thinking of her?

In midst of his crisis he missed someone standing in front of him and bumped into them, thanking God for his cat like reflexes as he balanced himself quickly, hands instinctively reaching to grab the hand of the falling individual, pulling them up into his chest.

Her forehead bumped against his chest, his arms secure around her waist, her own palms pressed against his warm chest, the sweater warm and fuzzy under her finger tips.

"S-sorry." peaking up through her lashes, her face flushed at the sight of his curious gaze. "It's alright" smiling down at her, suddenly his day turning a bit brighter, "No mask today ?"

"W-what? Oh, " her fingers instintively reaching to touch her lips, before nodding, "Yeah, I forgot...you're late today."  eyes meeting his once more, as he gave her an apologetic smile and nodded. Never had she been able to look at him up close, sure she had seen him work before, thats how she started to develope these feelings. The way he'd be so focused, his sharp gaze to the way the tip of his tongue would peak past his pouty lips, the way his hair would fall over his forehead, caressing his eyebrows-

"I leave for three minutes."

"Oh-"

In an instant the warmth around her was gone, much to her displeasure, he had moved back, hands at his sides, no longer holding her close, much to his own displeasure.

"Morning" Wooyoung cleared his throat, before taking a sip of his coffee, eyes on the man who was staring back at him. To her, it looked like a gentle stare, but Wooyoung could see the swirling emotions behind his dark orbs, the anger, the jealousy- oh he was going to have so much fun with this.

Clearing her throat, she turned to Wooyoung, "What are you doing here?" who smiled at her, one that anyone who didn't know him would feel was the most honest smile one could see, but she knew better. He was up to no good, as he walked up to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling hercloser, "Didn't we see you yesterday?"

San's eyes caught th visible the dicomfort that she displayed for a second, certain gears in his head working quick, fists clenching at his sides- this wasn't his matter, and Jongho had told him to stay away from this stuff or he would kick him out, this was a new start, and he wasn't going to ruin it.

"You did," averting his eyes from her face he eyed Wooyoung, scanning him, he was smaller than him, in stature and build, bet he was quicker than him though- no, he wasn't supposed to be thinking like this anymore.

"San...right?" her words catching him off guard, inhaling sharply he turned back to her with a smile, "Nodding, yes, San, Choi San." Noting how her she was mimicking a smile of her own, eyes swirling with untold stories, ones he'd love to hear, all the time.

"Wooyoung" he brought his hand forward, somewhat coming infront of her, much to San's displeasure, but he shook his hand nontheless, with a fake smile, before catching her eyes again, his fake smiling morphing into his dimpled one.

"Will you be coming in today?" he asked them, "Give me a minute I just have to open up-"

"N-no its okay, we were just passing by!" she cut him off, before looking at how the two idiots were still gripping onto each other's hands. Wooyoung was going to be the death of her.

Turning his head to look at her he nodded in understanding before he felt the idiot squeeze his hand,  only sparing  him a glance then looking at their clasped hands, an awkward silence settling between the three.

"Umm..."

"Wooyoung."

With a firm nod he let go, smirking at the way the bigger male wiped his palm with his pants, trying to be oh so discreet about it.

"Good grip" was all he said before moving to Y/N, "Let's go, love." walking ahead as she sighed, wanting to smack him so hard right now. Turning to San she bowed politely, "I apologise, he can be a handful sometimes, it was nice seeing you."

She was almost a good foot away before he called out, "WAIT!" causing her to freeze in spot, whipping her head around to stare at him all doe-eyed, his heart hammering against his ribcage, demanding to leave with her, "I didn't catch your name..."

"That's because you never asked me, silly." chuckling at his curiosity veiled with his shy demeanour, "It's Y/N."

With that she was gone, running after the a**hole, according to San, who had noticed how he was making her uncomfortable by the passing minute. A part of him wanted to go and give him a good piece of his mind, but he knew not to, he had promised Jongho he wouldn't get into fights anymore, he wouldn't let the world write his story for him.

.

"Having fun?" she hissed, entering his cubicle, noting how  she was ignored. Her source of anger was glued to his desktop, glasses at the tip of his nose, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. Eyes skimming each word before him.

"Wooyoung I-"

Words pausing at the rude gesture, a finger pointed in the air as if asking her to shut up for a moment. Huffing, she stood there, leaning against the entrance of his cubicle, arms crossed as she looked around waiting for him to finish with his dramatics for a good twenty minutes.

"Aaaand done." twirling around in his swivel chair he stared at her, manspreading, "Yes, child."

"SIT PROPERLY!"

"YES MA'AM." fixing his posture in an instance he cleared his throat, sitting cross-legged watching her lean against his desk, eyes frantically darting from her face to the screen.

"Let's go, Love?" quirking a brow she asked, "Are you trying to ensure I have no shot with him?"

"Quite the opposite, stupid one, I'm trying to ensure you do."

"You got a shitty way of showing it."

Clicking his tongue he rolled his chair closer to his desk, smacking her knee, then pointing at th screen, "Look."

Rubbing her knee she stood up, turning to look at the screen, "What- oh my god, you're stalking him- Oh he looks cute her" her words rushing out before she could bite her tongue, earning a high pitched laugh from her friend.

"Stop" whining and covering her face with her hands she peeked through her fingers, watching him scroll through the florist's shop's social media account.

This was the most fun Wooyoung had had since highschool, it had been so long since he'd seen his oh so perfect friend a mess, sputtering nonsense. "My point is, he has no personal account, and this one is recent too, its only for the shop and considering he only has male staff- this other dude - man do all buff people have like this secret club-"

"Your point?"

"Yeah sorry, my point is that he has no lady in his life, so you've got a shot."

"And pretending that we are in a relationship is going to work how?"

"He's shy and you're hopeless at this, someone has to tip the scales and be pushed to make the first move- and we all know how your first moves involve stupidity."

"I regret knowing you for so long."

"Ooooh what are we discussing here?"

The two froze at the third, new voice entering the scene, "But, I feel like people who come in late should be more concered about their work, not Sannie's love life."

"Sannie?" the two squeaked but with different tones, with different intentions.

"Yes, Sannie, San, Choi San, man who is not part of your assignments for the week. Neither of yours." he stated as a matter of fact, slowly nudging Wooyoung's chair out of the way as he moved closer to the screen, "New account, huh..." scrolling down at an inhumane speed he hummed, "So, how's his shop?"

"Nice."

"Average."

"Wooyoung, you've never been there." She sighed at his comment, "It's not average, its very nice, its pretty and colourful."

"Wow, bet saying that would get you in his pants, huh?" Wooyoung mocked, rotating in his swivel chair, smirking at the sight of her tainted cheeks- perhaps he did want to show their boss, that he deserved the raise rather than her, or maybe just embarass her because it was fun, or just both.

Luckily for her Yunho had completely ignored that  statement, instead  turned around to her, "So, you're allergic to pollen and you still go to the shop?"

As embarrassing as it was, it was true, "Yes." mumbling she stared at her shoes, instantly glaring at Wooyoung who had whispered, "Simp".

"Does...he know?" Their boss inquired, before closing the tab and turned to face them completely.

"No! God no, he'd never let me in the shop if he did, I mean he seems like the caring type and-" her words came to a fault at the sight of the two men smirking at each other, cause her to whine and slap Wooyoung's shoulder.

"WHY ME?? HIT HIM TOO!"

"He's our boss."

Huffing she turned to look at Yunho who gave her a gentle smile, "You're  right, he is the caring type, but" his lips quirked downwards, something she noticed instantly,  "He's not s pet project, so is this a little crush or do you actually like him, which brings me to my next question, how could you like someone without even knowing their name?"

"I..."her words hugged the silence that came after, staring at her shoes then at Wooyoung for some help, but he looked at her with the same look her boss was giving her, she did like him, but she didn't know a lot about him either- well technically a while ago she didn't even know his name.  What if this was a meaningless crush? There was no guarantee that he felt the same way either, what if he thought she was some annoying, clingy customer that-

A gentle squeeze of her hand had her look up from the all too interesting floor, only to find Wooyoung standing right before her, giving her a small smile. He raised his hand, watching her flinch but he chuckled, "You're crying silly..." he whispered, the thumb of his free hand stroking her tear stained cheek, watching her let out a shaky sigh.

"I- I wont- I mean I-"

"He didn't mean it like that...he just wants you to be sure of your feelings...I think they were close friends." Smiling at her he made her sit down on his chair, "Don't worry, I get it, I've never seen my demon sent to me straight from hell cry for a guy, so you must really like him, we just gotta figure out a way for you to get to talk to each other without chickening out, yeah?"

She nodded only to look at the person who cleared their throat, Yunho, standing there awkwardly, "I uh...I was only kidding, I didn't doubt your intentions....but damn...who knew I'd see the employee of the month, the holder of Woo's reigns, end up crying all because of Sannie-"

"I hate you." She hissed, grabbing a tissue box and flinging it at him, only for Wooyoung to catch it mid air, "Holder of my reigns?" He turned to Yunho who shrugged, "It's a name that stuck, most of us did think you two were an item" the taller man shrugged before looking at her sitting there in self-doubt, making him feel worse, "I, I think Wooyoung should go on with his jealousy plan, if Sannie didn't have the slightest crush on you, he wouldn't have smiled at you like how Jongho told me he did."

"You spoke to Jongho about this?"

"Yeah, well he did talk about the way San was distracted at the gym thanks to your skirt-"

"Jongho also said get back to work and not waste the first half of the day playing matchmaker."

The three froze at the new tone, slowly turning to find the bear like man standing there with his arms crossed, shaking his head, "I'll count till ten"

"Oh I'll win because I'm already at my desk." Wooyoung smirked earning an eyeroll from Yunho and scoff from her, watching the two walk out as he stared at Jongho who was glaring back at him, "Is she serious about him? He's been through enough as it is, it took us some time to bring him back on track."

"She is. I- its actually the first time I've seen her act this way, the real question is, is your boy fixed enough to treat her right?"

"Guess that's something you'll have to check for yourself....you are her...boyfriend after all, even if a fake one." With that Jongho left the cubicle, leaving Wooyoung alone with his thoughts, on one hand he was debating whether this interference was worth their time, but then again, he was right, he'd never seen her like this, not when he had confessed to her back in highschool and she had politely declined his offer, or when that guy in college asked her put publically- well, technically she had put him back in his place there and then and Wooyoung thanked God that he had the bestfriend privilege back in highschool too because if this is what she'd do to someone who tried to pressurise her due to the public presence even if she did once say this guy was cute- he'd hate to see how she'd deal with someone she disliked.

So, there were two questions that bothered him, was the flowerboy fixed enough to handle her? And did she now possesses the gentleness to handle delicate flowers?

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @marsvillee @spooo00oky @the-kpop-simp @mlysalt

[fortunatelyannoyingcrown]

Just went down the Reddit rabbit hole, and found this sub aside from the main acotar sub- non toxic Acotar? Lmao, I think I just found out what the "non toxic" refers to- it is just a community for Feyre/Rhysand Stans to sit in their little echo chamber and spout misinforming crap about Tamlin/Nesta and Lucien sometimes....

Anyways, there was a post someone put up about what it "would take for Feyre and Tamlin to be Cordial"....

And some of these stupid and biased responses honestly had my blood boiling .I have ss a few here and I'll give my response to each comment as I go...

Oh sincere apology, you say?The one at the end of ACOMAF was not enough?What do y'all Feyrug bitches want him to do?Fall on his knees before her? Frankly, I wish he didn't apologize at all, or save her miserable life.She owes him way way more than he does her so just sftu. And also, look at your own faves' sin list?She can't just be demanding or even expecting apologies when she has done even worse to ruin his life and his court and his legacy, can she?.When Feyrug gives her apology, we'll think about Tamlin extending the same.

Imagine belittling what a depressed suicidal human being is going through, and making it his fault.No sweetie, your fave is a big part of the reason he is the way he is, she destroyed his life for no good reason.But yeah, taking accountability is something Feyrug has never really been good at.

"Feyre might come around"- who TF even is she? That war criminal needs to sit down with herself for a bit, and look at all the peoples' lives she has actively destroyed.So yes, Feyrug Stan you too can stfu and actually understand that your fave has done worse shit to Tamlin that she needs to own up to and apologize for...

And then there's another loser

Like honestly the way there people prop Feyrug on a pedestal when she doesn't even deserve it, like Jesus Christ, I hope Tamlin doesnt even get a POV, if SJM is going to pander to this bitch ass fandom, and have him apologize to her.I would rather he even die than that. Because if he dies, he can die with his self respect intact, instead of bowing before that monstrous bitch and her POS husband.

But unless Feyrug apologizes for all the pain she has caused him, very knowingly in fact, and acknowledges that she has been a POS, I don't want her within a ten foot distance from Tamlin

Like bitch, stay TF away from him Go back to Rhysie poop, your favourite rapist husband, but don't you dare expect an apology from him

If it ever happens, I will throw that copy of the book against the wall.I won't leave Feysand/ Feysand stans alone after that...

Have to get off my soap box now...

[poetryandfluffycats]

His Girl~

A/N: part of my Nikolai stalker au! might be the last one for awhile since for may ill be on the grind for enstars NSFW month🤍

Pairing: Kidnapper!Nikolai Gogol x fem!reader

Content: Bathing with kidnapper Nikolai...

Warnings: kidnapping, suggestive(?)

Words: 887

Oneshot under cut!

"Dove, how would you like a bath?"

Nikolai leaned over my shoulder, wrapped his arms around my middle and squeezing my belly fat. "Hm, and maybe some new clothes? You must be getting sick of this old number! Aha!"

A bath? I would've loved a bath. It'd been so long since the last time I'd properly bathed, my only way of cleaning myself whilst down here being a dirty rag and a bucket. Even though there was a bathtub in the bathroom of the basement, Nikolai had never let me use it for whatever reason.

The thought of clean water, soap, shampoo, maybe even bubbles? It had me tingling. New clothes too? Clearly something had put Nikolai in a good mood today, which I wasn't going to complain about.

Something about the offer, however, made me shiver. Something about the way he held me, about the way he squeezed me just a bit too tight, told me that he wasn't doing this out of the kindness of his own heart.

"That sounds nice..." I mumbled, turning my head around to face him. There it was, that stare again. Pupils blown out beyond humanness, jagged teeth showing in his wide grin.

Anyone would've called me crazy if I told them, but that was his happy face.

"Wonderful! Yes, let's get you all nice and squeaky clean, hm?"

He intertwined his fingers with mine, a bounce in his step as he dragged me towards the bathroom, which was located in the far corner of the basement. Once inside, he closed and locked the door behind us, patting the counter top and gesturing for me to sit down. I did as he wanted, hopping up onto the counter and swinging my legs back and forth.

The action reminded me of when I was a child, watching my mother do her makeup at the vanity while I begged her to put some on me too. I wondered if she missed me, if anyone did.

"Now, I wasn't sure what type of scent you liked, so I got a whole bunch! I think the lady at the store thought I was crazy, aha!" Nikolai giggled, opening the cabinet beneath me and pulling out bottle after bottle of shower products. "Strawberry, peach, vanilla, cherry, this ones called 'A thousand wishes' how odd...! Oh, bath salts, you need bath salts! Here, I got a few options for those as well"

"Vanilla sounds nice" I smiled softly, pointing at the bottle in question. Nikolai grabbed it and popped open the lid, holding it out for me to smell. "Smells nice too"

"Vanila it is then! I'll fill the tub, and you strip for me, mkay? Don't be embarrassed, I'll behave myself! Scouts honour"

Scouts honour? I couldn't imagine Nikolai as a boyscout, actually, I couldn't imagine the manic as a child at all. I preferred to think of him as some sort of demon that just spawned one day as what he is now. What would a younger Nikolai be like? Probably the kind who went around setting bee hives on fire and stealing from the collection box at church.

"Strip, strip, strip! Don't keep me waiting, dove" Nikolai sang, tilting his head to the side, keeping an eye on me as he fiddled with the faucets of the bath.

"Kolya...?" I hesitated in pulling my nightgown off, the fabric bunching up in my grip.

"Hm?"

"Don't stare, okay?"

"You can count on me, love! But, you can't blame me if I do sneak a few peeks, alright? How am I supposed to bathe my girl without looking at her? Hm?"

My girl.

What an idiot. I wasn't his property, you couldn't own a person, didn't matter how long you kept them trapped in your basement.

Without any further trouble, I untied the bow holding my gown together, letting it slip down my frame and pool at my ankles, leaving me completely exposed and vulnerable at Nikolais mercy. I was quick to cover my chest as I hopped off the counter top, trying to keep just an ounce of my modestly intact.

"What a beautiful body-eck! Stupid Nikolai, stupid! She doesn't want you staring! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" The jester hit himself in the head a few times, muttering a string of different curse words with each smack.

"Ah, ignore me, dove. Go on! Baths nice and warm for you!"

I didn't need to be told twice, mumbling a quick thanks as I slid down into the tub. It felt like bliss, the bubbles popping under my weight and creating a tickling sensation on my skin. The water was hot, but not so hot you felt like you might boil to death. Just right.

I reached for the vanilla scented body scrub that Nikolai had layed out for me, only to have him grab my wrist before I could get a hold of it. "Ah-ah-Ah, allow me" He wagged his finger back and forth, grabbing the scrub himself and scooping a generous amount into his palm.

It felt wrong, his grubby hands on my bare skin. This should have been a luxury for me, something to enjoy, but I couldn't help but feel like a piece of meat on display. Mere prey, a toy to dress up.

And in a way I was.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

First Of Many

Bud Cooper x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 30: Cunnilingus 

Summary: Bud forgot a file at work, you take a trip to bring it to him.

A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry). This is so badly not beta read, I cannot stress. I am cutting this one so fine timewise.

Warnings: reader works with Bud, kissing, oral, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1713

You race down the pavement, rain soaking into your skin. You’re practically a drowned rat at this point, sodden and cold. 

You have the case file wrapped tightly to your chest, under your coat and thankfully in a metal carry case - safe from the rain. 

Bud had forgotten it when he’d left, you knew he’d need it for Monday morning and probably wouldn’t even notice he hadn’t picked it up over the weekend. Not that the offices would be open even if he did. 

So, with your boss’s permission, you’d looked up Bud’s home address and made your way. It hadn’t been raining when you got on the bus, but when you got off the storm clouds had been looming. 

Finally, you reach his house. His car is parked in the drive, which is a small mercy. At least you know he’s in. 

You duck under the shelter of his porch and ring the bell.

He's surprised when he opens the door to you, but he smiles. And it's utterly disarming. 

“Hi, erm, I, so, you left…” All the practised sentences you'd gone over in your mind on the way here fall out of your head the instant you need them. “Here.” You hold out the metal case file and quickly realise he has no idea what's inside. “I…” 

“Come in, come in, my god, you're soaked.” He ushers you inside, giving you a sympathetic look. 

“I don't want to be any trouble-”

“No trouble at all.” He closes the door and turns to you. It's upsetting how good he looks out of his work clothes, part of you hoped that his allure was just from the pressed suit and ties he wore. But it seemed you were down bad. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, and to your obvious distress?” He smiles as he talks and you get lost in the expression for a moment. 

“Distress?” 

“You racing through a storm?” 

“Oh… you forgot, erm, the Brandle File.” you hold up the box again, your hands shaking slightly from the cold. Rain water drips from your clothing onto his clean carpet and you wince. “I asked Mr Johnson, he gave me permission to drop it by, I know it's not professional, I don't mean to barge into your home and-”

“Hey, hey,” He looks at you warmly as he takes the box from you and puts it on the floor. His fingers brush yours and he hisses, “You're freezing!”

“I'm sorry.”

He tuts. “Don't be sorry, you'll catch your death.” He gives you an apologetic look, “all this because I haven't got my head screwed on right.” 

“N-”

“I'm not taking any excuses from you for my behaviour.” He grins. “Now I'm being a terrible host.”

He ushers you upstairs and to the bathroom, handing you a laundry basket  towel and dressing down. “Take a hot shower and bring your clothes down in the basket, I'll get them washed and dried for you.” 

“Mr Cooper-”

“Bud.”

“Bud, I-”

“I'm not taking no for an answer sweet pea.” He smiles and leaves the room. 

You sigh and stare at the full basket in your hands. It's not really like you have much of a choice.

“Use my soap if you want to!” He calls out halfway down the stairs.

The shower is wonderful, warm and soothing, and when you're done you ring out your work clothes as best you can before you put them in the basket. 

The towel dressing gown is massive, it could easily fit 4 Bud's inside standing side to side, and still have room for more. It's soft and warm, and there are a pair of warm socks rolled up inside it. You put those on as well. 

You hang your towel up on the side, and panically try to make sure you've put everything back in the exact place it was before you head downstairs.

It's only when your foot is on the first step that your anxiety bubbles up, nearly paralysing you. You're naked under the dressing gown. In his house. You double check the tie around your waist, making sure everything is secure. 

He’s in the kitchen, bent down checking something in the oven so you have a first seat view of his ass. 

God was teasing you.

“Erm, I,” 

Bud spins around, still all smiles, he’s got an apron on over his house clothes that has ‘kiss the cook’ printed on it in fancy lettering. “I’ll take those, get them washed and dried for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to.” You hate how timidly your voice comes out.

He waves a dismissive hand at you before he takes the basket. “It’s the least I can do, would you like to stay for dinner? There’s more than enough, I’ll drive you home after.” He pauses, “Not that I’m insisting on you staying, you’re more than welcome to keep the dressing gown and I’ll take you home right now.” 

“No, I,” you smile a little bashfully. “Are you sure I’m not imposing?” 

He shakes his head happily and busies himself by sitting you down in the living room with a hot drink before he goes to the laundry room. You have to practically beg him to make Bud stop from hunting down the spare portable heater for you. 

You have a sneaky look around the room while he’s gone, just out of interest. There are a few photos, friends and family, a couple of small knick knacks. 

You smile at him when he comes back in the room, “You have a lovely house.”

“Ah,” he shakes his head, “It’s not very homely. Needs some care.” He taps the door frame affectionately. 

“Well, I think it’s lovely.” He puffs his chest out a little. “Thank you.” He takes a few steps closer to you, “Oh that’s Frank, he’s an old friend.” He points to the photo you were looking at. “Fishing trip last year.”

“You like fishing?” 

“Hate it,” he chuckles, “Frank loves it, I think you can see by my face there, I’m not a fan.” 

You giggle. 

“I mean, I like the beer, and the talking and the peace and quiet, but it was fucking freezing there even though it was the middle of May. I nearly lost toes to frostbite.” He pauses, admiring your smiling face. “Thank you for bringing the file, you’re too sweet.”

“Oh,” you shrug. “It’s nothing.”

“I don’t think so, I don’t know anyone else that would do that for their boss, let alone for someone that isn’t your boss.” 

You shift a little, biting your lip, trying not to let your embarrassment bubble up and overwhelm you completely. “Well…” 

“I think…” Bud smiles, lightly touching your cheek and titling your head up so that you meet his gaze. “You might have a soft spot for me?” 

You freeze, unable to look away from his soft eyes. 

“I know I’ve got one for you.” He breathes, leaning a fraction closer. “Do you think I could try a little something, just to make it up to you? Repay you for the favour?” 

“I…” You swallow. “It was no problem…”

“Please?” He smiles sweetly, you didn’t notice him take a step nearer, but you moan softly when he presses his lips to yours and groans. 

It barely takes a moment before he’s licking into your mouth and walking you backwards to the sofa. 

He presses you down gently before he climbs on top of you, kissing you senseless. It’s like he’s everywhere, all at once, stroking and sighing as you lean closer and wrap your arms around him. 

His fingers trail down, then up your legs, lightly pushing the dressing gown higher. He breaks the kiss, breathing hard. “Can I?” He asks softly, once more looking at you with those heartbreaker eyes. 

You nod, not trusting your voice. Part of you is so sure you shouldn’t be doing this, but the other doesn’t give a single fuck. 

He grins happily, scooting down and pushing your clothing higher, and up to your hips. Anxiety begins to swirl and settle, but Bud groans, his eyes rolling back for a second. 

“Fuck me, if this isn’t the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen.” He licks his bottom lip before he dips down, his warm hands pulling your right thigh onto his shoulder. 

You gasp as his mouth touches you and grab at the cushions as he places a soft, light kiss to your clit before he flicks out his tongue. 

“Taste so good too.” He mutters, lightheaded. Something about the taste of his own soap mixed with your skin is driving him crazy. He laps again, a long slow lick through your folds that he savours while he pushes at his hardening cock with the heel of his hand. 

The little whimper that escapes your throat makes him feral, makes him want to push and push until all he is pulling from you is those sounds. 

He moans happily, watching you with lidding, hazy eyes as he licks, flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue after every swipe. 

“Fuck,” you squirm, breathing hard and trying to get closer to the sweet warmth of his mouth. He grins, pressing closer to you and kneading the back of your thighs with his hands pushing you up and nearer, letting you rock and ride exactly how you want to. 

“Bud, please,” your toes curl, pleasure shivering along your limbs, mixing with the pent up anxiety to hurtle you towards your peak. 

He moans against you, the vibrations running up your nerves. Your legs part to shake, moving without your control as the sensation builds and builds and builds. You throw your head back, your spine arching as pleasure explodes out and along your skin, bathing you in its soft glow. 

You come hard against his mouth, rocking and pulsing as he continues to lap and lick, whining ever so slightly when your cum finally hits his tongue. He slows his movements only stopping when your muscles relax.

“Fuck,” he wipes his mouth greedily, already craving your slick on his tongue again. “You know what, I don’t think I quite made it up to you enough.” He grins cheekily, “I think two or three more should do it.” 

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[russellsppttemplates]

Papa loves you so much, princess (Mick Schumacher)

Mick and Y/N find out their family is growing

Note: english is not my first language. this is another long piece that I hope you enjoy! I have been talking about this since January, so this is ver long overdue!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

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Tw: mentions reader's period and pregnancy

Getting up from the bed, you were fortunately quick enough to reach the bathroom in time to pour your guts out on the toilet, leaning on the toilet's side to support your torso. You were already up by the time Mick walked inside the bathroom, his sleepy expression with some traces of concern, "I told you I shouldn't have had that last piece of dessert", you pointed your finger at him through the mirror while you splashed your face, "you kept looking at it like you were a dog that was abandoned on the road, and then when I asked if you wanted my piece, I swear I saw happy tears in your eyes", your husband teased you, rubbing your back in a comforting manner, "do you want me to get you anything?", he asked, "just some cuddles in bed should do the trick", you muttered, allowing him to carry you back to the bed for a few more hours of hopefully uninterrupted sleep.

.

After leaving work, you stopped by the grocery store since you and Mick had noticed you were running low and running out of a few items at home, "we just had a snack break and the next part of the meeting should be the last one, I'm sorry I'm not helping you", he said over the phone while you browsed the aisles, "it's okay, handsome. You can still help me out here, though. I'm the cleaning section and I already have dish soap and the spray for the wooden cabinets, anything else?", you asked, earning a negative answer from him, "no, that's all I think. Next is the bathroom one, right? We are running low on toilet paper, and I used the last plaster yesterday. You only had one box of tampons in the cabinet so given that you are about to have your period, see if you need more of them", he pointed out, grabbing your attention to the matter. It should have started by now, you checked the date on your watch. And you were never late.

"We also need those tissues you keep on your bedside table, I used some today and I noticed they were the last ones", you could hear the smile on his voice, "alright, bub. I'll see you at home, have a good meeting!", you dialed off, grabbing the things he mentioned before looking at the pharmacy section.

You were never late, so it had to be this, right? Barring any other health situations, all of your symptoms aligned with pregnancy symptoms: you had been nauseous, feeling sick (and maybe it wasn't the stolen dessert's fault), you kept falling asleep whenever you rested on the sofa at home and Corinna had complimented the way one of your summer dresses fitted you, claiming that the neckline looked beautiful on you. And you and Mick had been trying, not with a whole calendar but rather just not using protection and seeing where it led you, and maybe this was it. Grabbing two boxes for the sake of it, you put them in your shopping trolley before heading to the till to pay for everything so you could go home.

When Mick got home, dinner was already on the table while you also fed Angie her own dinner, his kiss on your forehead coming with an apology for having arrived just in time for it, "no need to apologise, myself and miss Angie kept ourselves busy", you petted her soft fur before heading to wash your hands, joining Mick at the table and enjoying the meal.

"Does it taste okay to you?", you asked Mick, the taste of the broccoli seemingly off to you, "yes, tastes like this dish always tastes. It's very good, why do you ask?", he questioned, "I don't know, tastes funny to me", you mumbled, using your fork and knife to push the green vegetable to the edge of your plate, "maybe you got a bad one", he noted. That was another symptom, you thought, remembering when one of your friends couldn't eat her favourite meal while she was pregnant because she claimed it tasted different.

"Actually, I've been having a few symptoms, and they are all compatible with-", you were interrupted by your husband, "pregnancy", he smiled, seeing your brushed and stunned face, "I've noticed them too. You haven't told me you are craving your usual sweets when you're on your period, your boobs look even more amazing but the moment I so much as graze my finger in the skin you hiss because of the pain, you're not one to take naps during the day but the moment your head hits the pillow you're out like a light, and it's not common for you to have a bad stomach", he reasoned, making you blush even harder, "Why didn't you say something though?", you asked softly.

Mick shrugged his shoulders, "I just didn't want to burden you, or maybe I was keeping my hopes up and I didn't want to ruin yours, or point out something about your body like that, I'd never want to do so in a way that could be harmful", he answered apologetically, making your get up and go sit on his lap, "you could've said something, I wouldn't be offended, I think anyway, apparently pregnant women get mood swings so I can't speak for sure", you shrugged your shoulders, "truth is, I got some pregnancy tests at the store today because I also thought the same thing, but I wanted to do them with you", you looked at him, "but I don't know how to deal with this hope, like, I could just have some bug, but it is also true that everything checks out...", you fiddled and played with his fingers, "we take it step by step, if you'd like", your husband began softly, "and if you're not pregnant, we can keep trying", he explained, grabbing your hand once you nodded, heading to the bathroom so you could do the tests.

The plastic sticks were on the counter, Angie lying on the bathroom floor while Mick sat on the edge of the tub wirh you on his lap, "just a little bit more, liebling", he kissed the side of your head, "I'm sorry", you whispered, gaining his questioning look, "if I'm not pregnant, I got both of our hopes up for nothing", you explained, feeling his fingers lift your chin up to look into his eyes, "no need to apoligise, liebling. We just keep trying, it's not like we mind trying", he winked, looking at his watch to see the time was up, "I'm ready when you are", he said soflty.

You got up, picking up the sticks and seeing that both of them had the same information, "it won't be trying for a baby, but I've heard that sex while you're pregnant is a whole another level of sensations", you smiled at Mick, showing him the positive results.

"We're having a baby?", Mick mumbled, still not sure if he had grasped what you said in the right way, "we are, baby Schumacher is going to be here in nine months", you cried out, smiling as Mick cuddled you, his arms circling your before spinning you, "Angie! You're going to be a big sister!", Mick said once he put you down.

.

"I remember reading about these old wives' that help you guess the gender of the baby, and your grandmother did some on me for both of you and they turned out pretty accurate, I think", Corinna said as she sat in the outdoor sofa in front of you.

Since Gina was visiting, you and Mick decided to invite her and Corinna to spend the day together, Angie sitting next to her auntie while you sat next to Mick, "Oh, that would be fun!", Gina said as she straightened her back, picking up her phone so she could look them up on the Internet while Corinna started with the ones she knew, "they say that if you have a pointed belly towards the front, it means you're having a boy, and if you have a rounder bump and wider hips, it means it's a baby girl", she said, seeing Mick quickly ask for you consent before he helped you stand as he lifted your t-shirt, "what do we think? Pointy or not so much?", you did a turn around yourself, "I think it's rounder", Mick said earning a nod from his mother, "me too", Gina said, "but I've always had wider and rounder hips", you tried to reason as Gina wrote girl and a stick next to it to help count.

"The next one was that sweet cravings were sign of a baby girl, and salty cravings were sign of a baby boy", and Mick wiped the smug smile off his face, "I've been eating a lot of savoury stuff", you nudged your husband while his sister wrote down the tie.

Gina opened the lunar calendar on her phone while the four of you looked at all the details they asked for, "it's a girl according to this one!", Mick yelled way too close to your ear, "another point for babygirl then", you said, cuddling back to his side and giggling at everyone's exciting.

You saw and tested a couple more and, without realising it, you tried the last one without noticing it was the last, only for it to make another tie between babyboy and babygirl, "so that's it?", Mick said, not expecting it to turn out like this, "you just have to wait and see, you know, like all the people do because you can know for sure on the ultrasound", Gina teased him.

.

Once you got to the OB/GYN, Mick offered to go get you checked in at the desk while you went to find a comfortable chair to sit in while you waited, "final bet: are they a baby boy or a baby girl?", Mick said once he sat down with you, his hand holding yours to calm down your nervous thoughts. The ultrasounds always made you nervous, always wondering if everything was alright and as it should be, so having Mick there to support you and distract you was appreciated, "I think they're a baby boy, and he looks like his papa", you cradled his cheek on your palm, "I think they're a baby girl, and she has your kindness and empathy. It's just my gut feeling", he smiled, kissing the top of your head while he moved your conjointed hands to rest on your bump, feeling the baby kick, "not my chubby cheeks?", you playfully gasped, "what can I say? I think the Schumacher genes are much too strong", he teased you, looking up to the door when your name was called.

Entering the room and greeting your doctor, she asked you a couple of questions before asking you to lay on the little bed, the gel cold on your bump as she moved the wand around, "okay, everything looks good, strong heartbeat for little one and mother as well", she smiled, "I can see it. Do you still want to know?", she asked one last time, earning a nod from both you and Mick, "you're going to have a baby girl, congratulations!", she announced.

Your hand squeezed Mick's, feeling him press a kiss to the top of your head as you both looked at your baby on the screen, "we're having a little girl? Liebling, it's a little girl", he said, his eyes tearing up as he kept looking at the screen. Despite having feelings and guesses about it, neither of you didn't have any preference, feeling happy just with the idea that you were carrying a combination of you and Mick, but you couldn't help but get all goddy as you imagined Mick with a little daughter, knowing she would have him wrapped around her finger from the moment she was born. Even thinking now, she has him wrapped around her finger since you both found out you were pregnant.

"She looks good, there isn't anything that looks concerning. The measurements are all within the norm, everything looks good. Congratulations, mama and papa!", she smiled, "do you want copies to take home?".

While she went to get the slightly exaggerated number of copies of baby Schumacher (Mick wanted everyone that was important in his life to have one), your husband helped you clean the skin on your bump, "are you happy?", you looked at him, not seeing any signs of uneasiness but feeling his a little bit tense, "I am, liebling", he said, "but she's going to be here soon, you know? Little one is growing so fast, I can't believe we're past the half way point", he admitted, "I just don't want to disappoint any of you", he gulped, making you craddle his face with your hands, "My love, I know you and believe me, if how everything has gone until now is any indicator, we are going to have princess treatment", you smiled softly on an attempt to calm him, "thank you for sharing this with me, though. You can always share your worries with me, Mick", you finished, kissing his lips passionately, "I love you, liebling", he kissed you back, "and you little one, papa loves you so much, princess".