#back to the drawing board on where to buy jeans :/

[jobazzle]

ordered the same pair of jeans in the same size but different colors and they fit vastly differently 😀

[marcelllyn]

Rain kiss

I highly recommend this series. A shame it was cancelled.

Synopsis: Descamps is in love but doesn't know how to show it.

Warnings: Smoking (DO NOT SMOKE), kissing, bullying, enemies to lovers.

Studying with boys was disturbing to say the least. The touches, the looks, the smells. Everything was disgusting and irritating, I had asked my mother a million times to change schools, but I had to settle for her big merciless no. I couldn't stand Descamps chasing me everywhere with his gang of idiots. 

    I was sitting on the patio floor, with a sketchbook between my legs. Annick, one of my few friends, was studying. After two math classes in a row, it was necessary for my sanity to rest my mind, even though I constantly cast lascivious glances at Descamps, with that eye patch that strangely enhanced his beauty. Few of the times I looked, he was already looking, definitely plotting something. 

   He could only have a problem with me, always placing his foot so that I would trip, throwing eggs in my hair, disappearing with my backpack. Since the day I arrived, I have been tormented by this half-assed pirate. 

— You should stop looking at him like you want to kill him. — Annick said, poking me.

— I'm not looking at him, just observing the place. And, as it happens, he is in front. — I went back to focusing on my doodles. 

   Annick shrugged and let out a nasal laugh. And then the bell rings. I get up from the floor and let the notebook fall, the single pages come loose and scatter across the floor. As I pick up each one, someone steps on one of my drawings. 

Excuse me? — I say gently. I look up and… —Joseph Descamps. — I wrinkled my nose. 

— You should already be in the classroom. 

— Take your filthy shoe off my drawing. — I rolled my eyes. 

– Of course. — He tramples the sheet even more, tearing it. - Satisfied? 

    I take a deep breath and start to go to the living room. How could he be so handsome but so irritating? 

— You know, something cute, like you should smile more, instead of looking at me like a complete crazy person. — He puts his arm around my shoulders.

I give him a light push, and quicken my step into the living room. But he accompanied me.  I stopped in the middle in front of the room door, which was already closed. I closed my eyes at him, who had that mischievous smile. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and said: 

— What's your problem with me? — I sighed. 

— I have no problem with you. — He took a step forward. 

      Descamps was much taller than me, I had to raise my head to be able to face him boldly. 

— So why do you make me so unhappy? — I put my bangs to the side nervous about the proximity.

  He laughed, bending down a little to get closer to me. I turned around, a little scared, and opened the door, asked the teacher for permission and sat down. Joseph entered shortly afterwards with the same apathetic face and sat down. Sometimes I looked away from the board to watch him, even without wanting to, it was like a mania that I couldn't avoid. 

   When it was time to leave, I took my mobile and headed home. My mother and father had left and left a note on the table that said:

 “Go to the butcher and buy some ham and then buy two packs of cigarettes, we will be late” 

   I rolled my eyes, as always, arriving late. At least I had the whole house to myself. A silent house just for me. I made some bread, jam and threw myself on the sofa, the only noise was from the street. I didn't want to admit how bored I was when I was with or without my parents at home. In the end, it was the same. I wanted to go to my aunt Janine's house, where I have my cousins. 

    I got ready to leave the house. I went to the butcher's shop, being careful not to fall into Jean-Pierre, after the dump I gave him, I preferred to keep my distance so as not to hurt him even more. As I walked to the nearest tobacconist, I saw Joseph sitting on the sidewalk smoking, I walked right past him, hoping he would let me pass. 

— Did your parents never teach you that it was rude to ignore people you know? — He grabbed my shoulder. 

— I don't have time for your nonsense, Descamps. — I snorted. 

— I'm not doing anything, idiot. — Laughed. — Where are you going anyway? 

— It's none of your business. 

— Oh, come on, can you be good just once? 

— What do you want, anyway? — I rolled my eyes. 

— May you be good to me just once. — He raised his eyebrows. — So, is it going to happen or not?

I frowned all over my face as if my mind was simulating what was happening, firstly that his tone was light and somewhat cheerful, and his features light and not heavy and frowning as always. I considered that I was living a hallucination.

It's OK…

— I need to buy cigarettes too. — He smiled. — Shall we? 

     I walked with him in silence to the nearest tobacconist. 

— Do you know that there are already studies that prove that cigarettes are very harmful, due to the tobacco and toxins…  

   I was interrupted by his laugh. It was beautiful. 

— Don't try to act like a doctor now. 

— I'm not acting like a doctor. — I let out a nasal laugh. — Just pointing out that your lungs will be rotten by the time you reach 25. 

— Well, I still have a few glory years left, then. — He pointed to one of the tobacco shops on the street. — That's the best, I'll go buy it for you and be right back. 

  I didn't even have time to respond and he had already crossed the street. I spent the entire time waiting wondering why he was being so nice to me. If that was just another pretext for another one of his dull jokes. 

— Don't you think it's a little dangerous to be on the street alone at a time like this? — Jean-Pierre's familiar voice made me laugh internally.  

  I looked back and it was him, smoking, of course, and a little tipsy from the smell of the drink. 

— It's still late, there's no danger. 

  He smiled, inhaling once more and blowing the smoke away from my face. 

— Any reason to stand around looking at the tobacconists? I thought you hated cigarettes. 

— I came to buy for my parents. - Deep down, I thought it was cute that he remembered that. 

    I looked at the store. Joseph was crossing the street. 

— See you later, Jean. — He smiled a little awkwardly. 

— Purchased cigarettes, give my favorite brand. I think your parents will like it as much as I do… 

   Descamps stopped to look at Jean. They both looked at each other confused, I sat between two bulls about to attack each other. 

—What are you doing here? Jean asked. 

— Accompanying my classmate. And what are you doing here?  

— She doesn't need the company of an idiot like you. 

— Jean! — I snorted. —Stop talking for me.

He looked at me a little confused about the situation, after all it was every day that someone defended Descamps. 

— Are you going to tell me that you are now his friend? — Jean raged. 

  I rolled my eyes, men were so complicated sometimes. 

— I didn't say I was his friend, I just said to stop saying things for me. 

— It's not my fault for being the favorite. — Joseph said sarcastically. —Now, Pierre, if you'll excuse me, I have to escort a beautiful lady home. 

  Jean was about to say something again, but he just turned his back and walked away. At that moment, the sky was already night. I looked at Descamps who once again had that mocking smile. 

-What it was? — I asked while fixing my hair. 

— Nothing. — Laughed. — Come on, it's getting late and it's dangerous for a woman to walk alone at these hours. 

— I think it's dangerous at any time of the day. — I murmured. 

   We were laughing and commenting on some of the school's achievements. But he had a flea behind his ear, where had all that kindness come from? And suddenly I felt scared. 

— Why are you acting like this? — I asked in front of the door of my house. 

-Like this? 

— You know very well what I'm talking about. — A few drops of rain began to fall. — Being nice to me, why are you doing this? 

— Would you prefer me to be rude? Fine by me. — He shrugged.  

— That's not what I said. I just want to know the reason for your drastic change. 

— When I hurt my eye, even though I did something bad, you went with me to the infirmary and stayed there. Even when I cursed you and told you to leave me alone, why did you do that? 

— I'm the daughter of two doctors, it's almost in my blood to help someone who is going through a difficult time. — He laughed, putting a strand of hair behind his ear. — Even so, after that, you put animals in my bag, cut off a piece of my hair, among other things.

An awkward silence ensued, then he smiled, shaking his head down and muttered something incomprehensible. 

—What did you say? 

     The rain began to fall heavily. Descamps took a step closer, bending down until our noses touched. 

-I said. I'm sorry, I'm not good at showing my feelings. —He grabbed my chin. 

   We were starting to get soaked, our lips touched. A sweet and strange kiss. I quickly pushed him away, a little confused. 

— Good evening, Descamps. — She said embarrassed. 

  He immediately opened his eyes wide to say something, but I was smarter and entered my house. Leaving my purchases with him. 

   Leaning against the door, I smiled and covered my mouth as punishment for smiling, even though deep down I liked it, he was a jerk this whole time. How could I know if this wasn't just another one of his lame jokes?

[sunsetschloe]

live for me - natasha romanoff fic

summary: if there's one thing Natasha learned from it all, it was that everyone dies alone. but that's okay, because if you truly lived, if you meant something, anything, to someone, if you found the strength to love through the pain, then you're still living in the memories of the people you loved.

chapter one: clint

Budapest was so much emptier without Natasha. 

The streets of Budapest were still bustling with merchants selling their crafts, calling out to the tourists that traversed the city, looking for the best spots for group selfies.

But Clint wasn't here for relaxation. As soon as he got off the plane, he headed straight to the nearby bus stop, where he got in line to buy a shuttle ticket. The line moved fast, and the couple in front of him left without tickets because of some "currency exchange issue."

"One ticket to Keleti Station." 

"One way?" The man in the booth peered at him over his shades. Clint nodded in response. "2200 forints." 

Clint handed him the bills he had prepared beforehand silently. "In five minutes," the man explained as he slid the ticket to him, and Clint murmured a quiet thank you before he left.

The entire bus ride, he looked out the window at the familiar sights he last saw in 2003. 

Keleti train station was big, and hard to navigate. Nothing compared to Grand Central Terminal, but the signs in Hungarian didn't give much information. He weaved through the crowd, trying to locate the ticket counter.

As a solo archer, he wasn't sure why him being alone felt so...off. 

He boarded his train half an hour later, and they arrived at his destination within twenty minutes.

"We have arrived at Budapest Nyugati Station," a bright voice chirped from the speakers. "To transfer to Deli Station, please exit from the right for metro line 3 or M3, or..." Clint tuned out the station broadcast, drawing his jacket more tightly around his body as he walked briskly from the train tracks.

He still knew these paths by heart.

Towards the end of the exit, he spotted the vent cover they escaped into last time. He was tempted to just open it right there and then, but it was broad daylight, and he didn't want to cause a fiasco by climbing into the air duct in front of all these people. 

He slipped into a hall by the main area, where another vent cover sat on the ceiling. Glancing around anxiously, he scaled the wall, hauling himself into the vent.

The vent was smaller than he remembered. He crawled along awkwardly, occasionally glancing upwards at the little drawings Natasha made, next to their sad attempts of tic-tac-toe to amuse themselves.

He eventually stopped at a turning point of the vent, and started digging through the cracks of their old hideout, where candy wrappers and empty bottles remained. His hand caught on something loose, and he pulled it out, stuffing it into his pocket without a glance.

The vent felt weirdly suffocating.

He crawled forward to the next exit of the vent, opened the cover with a slight squeak that made him wince. Making sure no one passed by the empty hallway, he jumped down quietly, closing the cover with his motion.

He stopped before making it out of the hall and back to the main station, retrieving whatever he found from the pocket of his jeans.

It was a photo of him and Natasha in front of Liberty Square, eyes squinting at the camera. He wasn't sure how he got her to agree to the picture in the first place, but he wasn't about to dwell on it. He found the picture, and it was all that mattered. 

He flipped the photo to reveal a date hastily written on in permanent marker: April 24th, 2003.

"We were so young", he muttered to himself. He turned back to the side with their picture, and inspected their faces. He was smiling broadly, stance relaxed, while Natasha only gave a slight grimace. "I hope you're in a better place now." 

He pocketed the photo with a sigh, and left without looking back.

~

ao3 link if y'all wanna leave some kudos <3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/61978525/chapters/158489269

[talenlee]

Thoughts on fakes being more real than the real thing?

so there's this idea right, from this guy called Baudrillard

no wait don't go

there's this idea from a guy called Jean Baudrillard, of the idea of the hyperreal. Hyperreality, as Big Bauds described it, simplified for handling, is the idea that we live in a world where people interpret signifiers and descriptors for things themselves. That is, that there's a consensus reality of things that exist, but thanks to hyprereality, we live instead surrounded not by real things but by their simulacra.

I wrote about this in the context of Ranma 1/2 a while back (x), but I summarise it as a retreating standard of realness; 'The thing, the representation of the thing, the infinitely reproduceable simulacrum of the thing.' A typwriter, an illustration of a typewriter, an infinitely reproduceable ad in dozens of magazines for that typewriter. The purchaser of that ad, the person who sends in their money is not buying the typwriter, they are buying the reproduced simulacra of the typwriter and you can observe strange tendencies that flow from that. How many people when you ask them about a thing they've purchased or watched or cared about, will quote you stats or taglines from the advertising, and then, if pressed, be unable to explain what they mean?

How many people do you know who love an anime, but when presented with the question of 'should I watch it' would not recommend it because they'd rather talk about the things the anime should have in it or would have in it, whether it's a focus on this minor character or more mecha battles or extensive sister-on-sister inappropriate cuddling?

If you extend this further into the realm of semiotics, you might notice that you tend to exist in a space where you don't engage with real things much at all; there are things at your fingertips, in your house, on your computer that exist, they absolutely do, and you may love them and want to engage with them but only when you do are they there, are they present and exist. There are board games in my collection that I think of fondly with a plan to play them, but I haven't. The game is a hyperreal thing to me at this point, a fantasy of its own significance.

And like, fake what? Fake images? Taylor Swift is already presenting fake images of herself to me all the time, and I'm actively trying to avoid them. Someone drawing her as a pool toy is projecting another, different fake image, but theirs is less authentic because there's no pretense that it's real. One of the fakest things about images and personas is the conception that being real is opposite to being fake, when every fake thing that exists is still real - it still exists. The persona of Taylor Swift is a thing we can all reference, we can all point to it, it doesn't stop being a signifier we can communicate about just because she so obviously is making shit up.

Anyway, maybe.

[the-firebird69]

These people instigated our son to shout now he's decided not to go there. Ken will have to do something and others it's the right thing to do.

--in addition to what we mentioned so far we are witnessing another battle. It's a world war but they're fighting in their separatist cities over ships bja was just beginning to get involved Terry cheesman is fighting like hell there are a lot of people getting into it and we are witnessing them going after each other very hard. When are the group sits fighting real hard are Trump's versus bja obviously but they are fighting at the financial centers and people did not expect bja to get into it that much it's kind of sitting around farting blasting out threats and stupid things now he's at them. It's a good thing this is terrible Trump's horrible he's a pig who's going down Satan is there a problem but each group has them. This battle is very small it's like 0.0013%, it's getting bigger but it's very important and it's a nerve center it's also at the food and water supply however Cherry cheeseman is at it and the fight in a separate cities is where and over all of it and he is causing 0.3% damage up to 1.6% per day for the morlock not including pseudo army losses. It was still about 45% of the population but in less than 2 months it can all be gone at this rate. Something else would happen in the pseudo empire would get beaten or not 75% of the deaths are from that war. There's one event that will open it up a lot that's the pseudo empire basis in the Midwest another event will open it up completely. That is the ships and actually that will happen because of those bases out there they'll take the ships and then they'll try to go to Venus that will be Trump the pseudo empire will stop them and be brief then they will because it'll draw out Tommy half the exact thing people think would stop them and it'd be a big mess but the big point would be that the warlock will lose the ships all of them we think Tommy have still has a very large formidable flert by comparison but the pseudo empire will feel cocky because they'll have death stars and ships and everything that bja and the rest of them have which is about 40 million ships with a death star compliment for each fleet and there are five fleets and it's formidable and it might be able to hold Tommy f off for a while with the pseudo empire Force but they won't win the war the pseudo empire will be defeated we feel Tommy f will call the ships off Earth because they have artifacts and people on board and will try and use them to defeat the pseudo empire fully and after that goes back to what BJ said we're going to end up going in the ground and that's how it's going to go and he probably figured it out.

--there's other things happening but this would represent another big chunk no this would come from this war with the pseudo empire which is most of the death and they're both morlock

And the power source said iron Man is using is not the same as the one that is going to make is not true he went through I didn't our son helped him design it and they're talking about making a a ride for Tony Stark and iron Man at the universal people like it the sun says is all such a cool stuff you could do really it is there are ideas and things you can do he wants to have like a laser tag game where you could have the mask and you'd wear an arm laser and you can buy them there too and they're just plastic but they're authentic looking like a cosplay and you fire up for a laser tag off your arm and you'd wear the chest piece and it would be the full chest and it would have points on it you'd have to hit and some people could get the helmet and rent it and you can buy the whole set for a laser tag people are interested they like it and they'd wear pants and stuff to match jeans are not bad they're blue this is going on now and it's going to be an interesting day

More shortly

Thor Freya

This incident with the hospital denying him ability to call them was recorded by the health department and they're looking into it and it's all the other groups and they hate these assholes what he said on the phone was nothing threatening or rude except that you call the police because she's obviously a stonewalling him too and they're investigating her and they should we know what they're going to do they're already decided today they they said they're going to arrest them and put them on trial and get them out of here they should too

Thor Freya

Not only is this a disgrace but these people are complete blasphemes and they're lame they don't do anything we need them out they're going to get out he says by force good

Stan

Olympus

[hanjisungslag]

attack on titan headcanons #2

## - hanging out

genre - fluff

pairings - aot x reader

word count - 0.9k

warnings - none

notes - this is like a series ?? it’s kinda like a storyline, all these headcanons. enjoy, as usual 🫶🏻

- EREN JAEGER

you and eren typically hung out while you trained him but apart from that, you’d go on long walks with him through town and most days he’d take you to the tree that him, mikasa and armin used to go to as children, and you guys would just sit and talk for hours. he spoke a lot on freedom and you too soon became infatuated with the idea of freedom - more than before.

- ARMIN ARLERT

you guys typically hang around town and preferred going to places like cafés, bakeries and libraries. you have a bit of a routine, you guys usually go to your favourite café, buy your drinks then head to the bakery to get your usual pastry and head to the library on the search for new books. some other days, you both would just go out exploring and you guys have journals you write in about new stuff you find, kinda like an adventure book :’).

- MIKASA ACKERMAN

you really like working out with mikasa and she really likes it when you join her, even if she doesn’t show it sometimes. she always shows you different ways to exercise and you make it fun by cracking jokes (you can always see her, slightly smirking when you do). after these sessions, you guys go find somewhere to sit and chill for a bit. on days where you’re not working out with mikasa, you guys like to go on walks - she always lets loose on these walks and shows different sides of herself you’ve never seen.

- JEAN KRISTEIN

you’ve seen him draw a bunch and you really wanted him to teach you some techniques. so, you asked and of course he said yes. you sit for hours drawing together, you especially love taking each other to cool views and drawing them :).

- SASHA BRAUS

shopping trip!! if anyone ever needs something from town, they go to you and sasha and ask for you guys to get it. you guys love it so much because you just mess around the whole time, sometimes you even come back without the stuff you went to get (reiner gets very upset about this and connie usually laughs unless you forget his stuff) while forgetting stuff, you go off on your tangents and buy whatever you guys want.

- CONNIE SPRINGER

connie gets bored really easily, so he has a lot of board games under his bed and he always invites you to join in. worst part is, he always plays them at 2am😭 so expect not a lot of sleep because how are you gonna say no to this man? you’re not. but it’s all worth the fun.

- REINER BRAUN

you had a pretty rough time in training today and you were super drained, reiner could tell just be your stance and the look on your face. he decided to drag you along to his ‘special spot’ with protests from you because you wanted to sleep but once you got there, omg.. you were so glad he dragged you up there. the view was beautiful. it was so calm, so peaceful. the sounds of sweet animals and the rustling leaves in the wind. soon, this became reiner AND your spot.

- BERTHOLDT HOOVER

bert loves, loves, loves baking!! he wanted to make you a cake for your upcoming birthday but, you suddenly walked in while he was doing so and asked to join in. he squealed with joy and allowed you to join - soon, this became a weekly occurrence for you two. you guys got to spend time with one another and the rest of the corps got sweet treats out of it ;).

- ANNIE LEONHART

she would take you to the gym for the lessons that you begged for but, because of your little charismatic ass, you guys would take longer breaks and talk more about your lives (as much as she could anyways) every once in a while, you would catch her grinning at some joke you made.

- LEVI ACKERMAN

you were his little tea ‘bearer’ as hange called it. it wasn’t your actual job to serve levi tea, it was from the kindness of your own heart! and levi appreciated these little acts of kindness, more than he wished. sometimes, you might bring two cups of tea.. one for him and one for yourself! first time you did it, he gave you a confused stare and you simply said ‘what?’ innocently of course, and he told you to get out. you didn’t though! you stayed and talked about your day with him. this soon became a frequent thing for you two and something you both looked forward to.

- ERWIN SMITH

since erwin is always so busy, it’s sometimes difficult to make time for you. however, a lot of the time he splurges and takes you to a nice restaurant out in wall sina :). he truly treats you like royalty - both of you dressed to the nines, eating the finest meat in all of paradis! he always smiles the most on evenings like these.

- HANGE ZOË

you had to work a lot in the lab and 99% of the time, hange was right there next to you. even when you guys weren’t out on the town (which was a lot) they LOVED being in the lab with you :). it may sound boring but, to you two it was practically perfect - you both loved science, knowledge and the theory of titans & that’s how you spent your time together! doing something you both love.

[fireandblood-xxii]

The AOT Crew Goes to Disney World! 🫶🏼

All the shenanigans that would go on if the worlds saddest crew went to the happiest place on Earth

includes: Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Levi, Erwin, Sasha, Connie, Jean, Zeke, and Reiner. Totally SFW. Fluffy hcs ahead 💞

Eren

Fights thru crowds to be the first in line at all his rides, and eventually forces the crew to all get fast passes bc he’s sick and tired of waiting

Goes to the spinning tea cups and spins his way too fast that he physically cannot stand and nearly vomits all over himself

Mikasa has to carry him over her shoulder after that for a little while

And he still literally has no self control after this, he’ll go on a rollercoaster regardless if he’s just eaten and stuffed himself to the brim. He’ll just takes the L and vomit it all up afterwards

Instead of getting Mickey ears like everyone else, he gets a Kylo Ren cape and helmet

Has Mikasa on his shoulders during the parade so that she can get a better view of all the floats and characters :’)

Mikasa

Gets a Disney Princess makeover!! She gets the full Snow White transformation and Eren just skdjsjsjjs he’s beside himself

She convinces Eren to do the novelty drawings where they make their heads and features all huge and exaggerated; she treasures it forever ;u;

Keeps an eye at Eren at all times and gets jealous when all the Disney princesses get flirty with him

She buys Eren a Mickey balloon under the guise of a sweet little gift but really she uses it as a tracker to know where he’s at at all times if she happens to lose sight of him

Armin

A little girl mistook him as Cinderella and thought he was so pretty lmaooo everyone was making fun of him after that, poor bby

Tries to carefully plan out the day ahead, constantly checking the Disney app to check wait times, arranges when and where they should stop for meals, snacks and hydration stations, and even schedules around shows!!

Checks the gift shops to buy him, Eren, and Mikasa Disney friendship bracelets :’)

His favorite ride in the whole park is Soarin’ and wants to ride ALL the water rides

Whenever he spots a commemorative plaque for a statue or location of the park, he has to stop and read bc the history/story behind it fascinates him. He just likes to know things

Levi

Dad #1 of the group

He has to make sure all his children are in line and none of them get lost

The cast members make him stand up against the “you have to be this tall to ride” board each and every time to make sure that he fits the height requirement

He quickly gets sick of the ridicule and just waits on everyone outside of every ride with all their drinks and toys

The group’s solution to this is to buy Levi a pair of Tinkerbell Mickey Ears to “add height”… he is not amused but he wears them anyway

He and Mikasa take a photo with Snow White and the seven now eight dwarves… “But Levi there is only ONE Grumpy… SMILE!!” “Tch… shut the hell up.”

Erwin

Dad #2 of the group

Has to make sure Dad #1 doesn’t lose his ducking mind

He made matching t-shirts for the entire crew!!! They all say “Survey Corp: Disney World 2022” in glittery letters and everyone’s name is on the back of their shirts. Except his says “Dad #2” and Levi “Dad #1” The emblem on the shirt are the Wings of Freedom and they have Mickey ears on themskskskksks

Also wearing the typical dad fit— khaki shorts with the shirt tucked, New Balance trainers, Fanny pack, and you can see streaks of sunscreen across his nose bc p r o t e c t i o n!

At one point, Connie accidentally falls and scrapes his knee and Daddy Erwin SPRINGS into action, grabbing a Mickey Mouse bandaid from his first aid kit

He takes photos and videos of everything and everyone like the proud dad that he is

Gets Walkie Talkies to be in constant communication with Levi:

Erwin on the walkie, to Levi who is literally only 10 ft ahead of him: I got eyes on Splash Mountain, I’m estimating about a 60 minute wait, should return at 1600 hrs. Over.

Levi, on the walkie, glaring back at Erwin: Fine, but we’re getting something to eat after this is over

Erwin: After this is what, Levi? I didn’t quite get that. Over.

Levi: You heard what I said Erwin, quit playing this shitty game

Erwin: You have to say ‘over’ when you’re finished speaking, Levi, otherwise I won’t hear you. Over.

Levi: EVEN AFTER IVE JUST ENDED THE SENTENCE WITH ‘OVER’ , I SAY IT AGAIN?

Erwin: Say what again? Over.

Levi: …I hate you. Over.

Erwin: No you don’t. Over.

Sasha

Would IMMEDIATELY get a Mickey Pretzel

Then you’d see her double fisting the huge churros. She looks like a Churro walrus as she stuffs her face with both at the same time

The guys eventually have to get her a child leash backpack to keep her from running amok on all the food stands

Also gets a Disney Princess Makeover!!! She gets the Belle transformation. So cute ;u; Nic would be all over her, saying he’s her Prince Adam

Her feet start to hurt from all the walking and wearing the wrong shoes, so Nic’s solution it to get her giant plush Minnie slippers. “ITS LIKE IM WALKING ON CLOUDS HHHHH”

HAS to take a photo kissing Nic in front of Cinderella’s castle <3 (group vomit ensues)

Ofc gets special souvenirs for each of her little siblings and her parents!!

Connie

HAS to get the classic Mickey cap and ears with his name embroidered across the forehead

Forced Sasha to take pictures with him and Chip and Dale and it was the cutest shit ever. Double twinning!! :’)

Then he has Jean take a pic with him in front of Cinderella’s castle doing the “I’m flying, Jack!” Titanic pose. Jean is Jack and Connie is Rose with his arms spread like a bird.

Calls his mom at the end of every day to tell her how much fun he’s having, about all the shows and attractions, the characters he’s met, and the food he’s eat. She’s SOO happy to hear from him but always bugs him to make sure he’s wearing sunscreen, staying safe, and looking out for Sasha and Jean

Jean

Acts totally unimpressed by the Disney Magic but eventually it overcomes him, and by the time they settle in to watch Mickey’s Magic parade and firework show he is SOOOOO pumped

Is one of the first to get drunk at Epcot because he “Drinks Around the World” and then tries to climb to the top of the Epcot globe.

Levi puts an end to that real quick and basically water boards Jean to sober him up

He gets a commemorative collector’s pin both to signify his first trip to Disney World and honor his fallen friend, Marco, who he knows would have LOVED the trip himself. He keeps that pin on his person at all times now

Zeke

He was super excited about this vacation because he saw it as an opportunity to bond with his little brother, and do all the things he would’ve loved to do with Eren if they got to grow up together

When they go to animal kingdom, everytime they come across an ape exhibit or a Jungle Book themed area, the guys point and laugh. “LOOK ZEKE IT’S YOU”

“Damn, it smells like shit in this park… what the fuck, Zeke?”

This quickly grows old and he just becomes pouty the entire time

He and Eren get light sabers in Star Wars land and re-enact a fight scene, light saber sound effects and all; Zeke uses the force to choke Eren. “Eren I am…. Your brother”. “NOOOOO”.

Gets himself a Darth Vader robe and helmet to complete his look

Makes ONE (1) joke to Levi about him being Baby Yoda and damn near lost his front teeth

Reiner

Falls in love with the Cinderella actress and as they’re taking a photo, he actually gets down on one knee to propose to her; she thinks it’s a joke, he does not

Takes lots and lots of photos and gets a ton of souvenirs to give to Gabi and Falco since they weren’t able to come :’)

At one point he FaceTimes his kiddos to show them all the cool stuff they’re missing out on 😭 they get sooooo jealous

This trip actually does wonders for him, being around such uplifting Disney magic, he comes back from the trip with a much sunnier and joyous disposition and everyone can tell. It’s like it healed his severely damaged inner child

And at first his PTSD sorta prevents him from riding some of the rides, but by the end of it he’s calling dibs for all the front row seats on the coasters and having the time of his life

other random hc:

They keep all the photos they take from riding the rides; in all of them, you see Connie and Sasha screaming their damn heads off, Zeke looks like he’s about to puke, Armin may have passed out ones or twice, and the rest are just smiling with their hands up

They get a good laugh out of the ones where someone is making a stupid expression

Everyone is soooo exhausted at the end of the trip and knocked out during the car ride home, except for Sasha who is beggingggggg Erwin to stop at McDonalds for a late night snack

But Sasha we have food at home

The food at home: 🥔🥔🥔🍞🍞🍞

It was definitely a vacation everyone needed. So they could let loose and remember what it was like to have real fun. Everyone’s inner child was healed this trip :’)

Will add more as I think of them :’)

[call-me-aesthetic]

If Twisted Wonderland was an American Public School

WARNING: There are some slight sensitive topics that are featured in here! Reader discretion is advised!

Part 2 can be found here

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

- That one preppy girl who takes all honors and AP classes 😑

- Wants everyone to know that he’s becoming a doctor one day for his strict parents or he’ll dishonor the family

- Reminds the teacher about homework, knowing well that he’ll get slander for it

- Complains about how he got a 90 on his test or a B on his report card, a try hard much?

- Wears a cardigan with thicc but cute glasses since he’s one of those people with can’t see shit on the board so he has to move to the front of the class

Ace Trappola:

- The SoundCloud rapper, that’s it

- “Wanna listen to my mixtape? It’s pretty fire, my guy.” 😩🔥

- You will not miss him BLASTING out some song on his Bluetooth speaker, that shit be echoing through the hallways

- Tells you to stop what you’re doing only for him to either sing horribly or do a backflip, thinking that he’s so cool

- Wears a Supreme jacket with AirPods and waves on his head

Deuce Spade:

- Assuming that he’s still a delinquent, he’s that kid with the most fucked up school record

- Not much of a bully but will still talk shit to your face without caring, might even throw stuff at you during a lesson and you would be the one getting in trouble instead of him 🗿

- If he ever gets mad, it would be overdramatic like kicking the desks, punching the lockers, or walking out of the classroom unannounced and everyone would look at each other wondering wtf happened

- Covers the entire desks with drawings of skulls and those “s” if you know what I mean

- Wears Champion hoodies, wants you to know that he’s broke and rich at the same time

Trey Clover:

- The guy that’s not really popular but everyone knows him since he’s in all their classes

- Most people might have a crush on him because he’s REALLY nice 😳👉👈

- Gives off “older brother” vibes based on the way he looks and acts, like offering you a ride home if you beg ask nicely

- Secretly bakes creme brulee but doesn’t want to mess with the flow so he sticks to the status quo

- Wears the school’s hoodie just because he thinks it looks good on him, and the fact that he doesn’t know what else to wear

Cater Diamond:

- Hot Cheetos girl 🥵

- Has a whole buffet of food in his backpack and will not hesitate to eat them during a lesson, no sharing either sorry

- Excuses himself to the bathroom or full on skips class just to film a Tiktok

- Has about 100 followers on Instagram Magicam and brags about how he’s famous

- Wears a Thrasher hoodie with large hoop earrings and his hair in a bun

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

- The kid who flunked their freshman year that also sort of vibes with new classmates

- Always gets mistaken as a teacher by people since he looks and sounds old

- Knows the lessons but still fails them anyways, didn’t really give a damn either 🙄

- Captain of every sports club you can think of, never actually plays but has a lot of knowledge on them

- Wears the school’s letterman from years ago since it used to be his brother’s and that he’s too lazy to buy a new one

Ruggie Bucchi:

- That one kid who NEVER has money for the book fair or any other school event

- Always has to ask his classmates for some cash

- If he somehow does, then he’s one of those kids who buys Diary of the Wimpy Kid or the World Record books

- If he’s feeling cheap, he’ll buy the “cool stuff” like the chocolate scented calculator or fruit snacks 😭

- Wears oversized hoodies and basketball shorts that are clearly hand-me-downs

Jack Howl:

- That one athletic kid who’s both scary good and competitive when it comes to school games like football or soccer

- Literally the best player on his team and without him, they’re trash as hell 💀

- Tries his absolute best to support his teammates without yelling at them for how dumb they are

- “KICK THE FUCKING BALL! DO YOUR LEGS EVEN WORK?!”

- Wears the school’s jersey just to show off his “school spirit”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

- The kid who sell snacks for “charity” but everyone knows he’s keeping the money to himself

- If you don’t have cash or try to negotiate with him, the only thing he’ll do is raise the price up

- “What do you mean you don’t have ten bucks? I can see it in your pocket.”

- Just bring nothing with you, he’ll doing anything to steal your stuff 🤭

- Wears a collar shirt with a tie and khakis that have pockets to keep his glasses and money in

Jade Leech:

- The kid who puts on a goody two shoes facade but is actually a stoner

- Only does “safe” drugs like vape but occasionally smokes weed, mostly in the bathroom or behind the school 🌬

- Can play it off and hide the scent when he’s high, teachers never suspect anything from him

- No one really cares to stop him unless he gets caught or something idk

- Wears clothing that either makes him look like a businessman or a junky, there’s nothing in between

Floyd Leech:

- The kid that’s plays basketball or volleyball just because he’s hella tall, and is actually good at the sports but doesn’t put much effort into them

- Always stays behind after gym, even though the teacher tries to make him leave for his next class 😬

- “I swear after this one shot, I’ll go to class.” *He never made that shot*

- Will jump you no matter who or where you are, and will get angry if you step on his new shoes

- Wears the jersey of any famous team with the latest pair of Jordan sneakers

Scarabia

Kalim Al Asim:

- VSCO girl at best, don’t lie to me now 🤡

- The only words he knows are “And I oop– sksksk.” and “Save the turtles.”

- Walks during a track meet while everyone else is running and sweating hard, the teacher doesn’t care either

- Doesn’t really do anything in gym but talks to his classmates and stands near the water fountain to refill his Hydro flask

- Wears tie dye shirts with cute scrunchies

Jamil Viper:

- That one quiet kid who everybody thinks is a serial killer but he’s actually not, I swear

- He just wants school to be over and spend the rest of his summer relaxing 😔

- Although he shouldn’t abuse his “power,” he‘ll move his hands in his pockets or backpack to make it look like he’s about to pull a weapon out.

- “Chill, I’m just grabbing a pencil.” *Everyone in the class started crying*

- Wears dark colored hoodies that intimidates people but are actually comfy

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

- The baddie popular girl 😌💅✨

- Arrives to school late with a Starbucks in hand from his local Target

- Fixes himself every 5 seconds like reapplying his lipgloss or spraying Bath and Body Works cherry blossom perfume

- Uses acrylic nails and long hair extensions as weapons during a cat fight

- Wears a crop top with ripped jeans and those clout sunglasses

Rook Hunt:

- That creepy guy in the hallways who tries to get your attention, even if you don’t know him

- Scares people when he says, “Ayo, where my hug at?” 🥶💯

- Uses at least 10 cans of Axe body spray a week after gym class, which stinks up the locker rooms

- Waves at you if he passes your class, even walking into the room just to say hi

- Wears literally anything but always include a hat

Epel Felmier:

- The artist girl who just wants to be alone 🧑‍🎨

- Purposely draws in front of you but pretends like you’re not looking

- If you complement him, he’ll just brush it off and proceeds to diss himself

- “Thanks but I’m not THAT good at drawing, teehee.” *Insert Radio Rebel face*

- Wears a hoodie or a cardigan with big pockets to put his art supplies in

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

- I don’t even need to tell you who he is, y’all already know ahaha 🥴

- Sneaks a whole PlayStation in his backpack so he can play with it during lunch

- Is on his phone 24/7 even in class to the point where teachers don’t care anymore

- Tries to get people into anime but only to little success

- Wears a shirt of any anime character or that damn ahegao hoodie, girl bye

Ortho Shroud:

- The nerdy kid who’s known for destroying others at many games

- Plays classics like D&D, Yugioh, Pokémon, the whole shabang

- Daily Beyblade battles during recess with everyone surrounding him, the menacing aura radiates off of him

- Will steal your things if you lose to him but gives it back a week later cuz he’s sweet 🥰

- Wears light up Sketchers shoes and those Minecraft shirts you find at Old Navy

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

- The theatre kid who also goes to band practice, change my mind ���👄👁

- Takes his role seriously when it comes to school plays and concerts, even if he gets casted as a damn tree or doesn’t go solo

- Remembers the songs and their lyrics to any musical you name, a really good singer at that too

- Plays almost every instrument, you definitely know this since you can hear him down the hallways during a test

- Wears a white button up shirt, black pants with fancy dress shoes, and top it all off with a fricking Rolex watch

Lilia Vanrouge:

- The weird guy who pranks people and vandalizes school property in every way possible

- If you ever get a textbook with a message that tells you to go to a certain page only for you to found a picture of a dick, yeah that was him 😒

- When using a Chromebook, he’ll leave a tab open on YouTube so when the next person uses it, pray that your ears will still work by tomorrow

- During lunch, he is a literal DEMON that mixes milk with chicken nuggets together and having the audacity to eat it too

- Wears an oversized raincoat or a windbreaker but idk wtf kind of things he has hiding underneath

Silver:

- That guy in class who consumes Monster energy drinks and falls asleep 99% of the time but somehow manages to pass the class 🤷

- Whenever he’s awake, he’ll talk to the teachers since he’s basically friends with them for some reason

- Writes his name out of boredom on any desk you sit on but in different places, sometimes around the corners or the sides

- Has a sixth sense because he’ll wake up if you try to draw on his face and if you did get something on him, it’s on sight

- Wears those colorful hoodies that zips all the way up to cover his face with a matching backpack, it’s pretty cool ngl

Sebek Zigvolt:

- That kid who literally knows everything about historical wars and will show it off during class

- Also has knowledge on weaponry, which has people questioning him but he’s just very dedicated on serving his country and people

- Knows how to fight and defend himself from a bitch since he spent his summer at a military boot camp, put respect on my man’s name 😤

- Honestly a great partner for a group project, actually does the given work but not the whole thing for you

- Wears anything that has camo pattern and chunky combat boots

I only made this because me and my friends were talking about our school memories so yeah. This is based from my experience so they might not be exactly accurate. Might even be a part two if you want.

[miekasa]

random boyfriend eren hcs (modern/college au)

↯ pairing: eren jaeger x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: modern/college au, himbo eren supremacy as per usual, but can you imagine eren, armin, and jean living together in one house bye

↯ notes: this is me once again trying out this headcanon format, also because i have lots of thoughts about eren (being normal) and going to college lmao

↯ more notes: sorry i have to repost this again tumblr is being dumb ://

Not a frat boy, but definitely lives by the mantra “work hard, party harder.”

Likes going out to frat parties and keggers first year, but calms down as time goes on. Sophomore year is more house parties and occasionally going downtown to clubs. By the time junior year rolls around tho, he and Jean are thee party hosts. Homecoming, Halloween, Pre-Thanksgiving break, you name it, those two have a reason to throw a party for it

But party doesn’t always mean absolute rager. Sometimes it’s just drinking with your friends, playing pong, and absolutely crushing Jean at uno. 

At parties with lots of other people, Eren really doesn’t let people fuck around with you, or any of his friends really. Once almost got into a fight because he watched a guy out his hands on yours and Mikasa’s waists to “move around you.” As if. 

Wears his key necklace around all the time, obviously. So he gives you a necklace with a lock on it, with both of your initials engraved on the back. 

Nobody really notices it at first, since the chains are long and the necklaces are you usually tucked inside your shirts. But one day, ever the observant one, Armin catches a glimpse of yours resting on top of your shirt. Cue squinted eyes looking back and forth between you and Eren before—eureka! “You and Eren have matching necklaces!!!”

Plays sports, not for a scholarship but just for fun. Gets very pouty when you can’t make it to his games; and gets extra pouty if you show up, but you’re not wearing his jersey.

On the flip side, gets very giddy when he sees you in the stands with his jersey on and very ostentatiously scoops you up into a hug after the game is over.

Literally does not know where the library is until you show it to him. Any of them. Help him.

The worst person to study with if he doesn’t have any actual work to do. Will bother you and prefer to gossip than to let you do your work in peace. If you need an actual study buddy, you should try Mikasa.

Drunkenly hits on you a lot. Scratch that, he hits on you regardless, drunk or sober, despite the fact that you’re literally dating him already.

Literally reserves at least two nights of the week to have dinner with Armin bye and you couldn’t even interrupt them if you tried.

Waits for you outside of your classroom if you’ve had an important presentation or something. Not always with anything cheesy or loud, but just to be able to cheer you on and congratulate you after.

Hates the act of going grocery shopping, but loves going with you. Also because you force him to buy things other than Anytizers and Kraft Mac and Cheese.

Steals your hair ties and scrunchies to put his hair up. Does not fucking give them back, and denies having them, even if they’re piling up on his wrist.

Will drive you anywhere and everywhere. He is your personal Uber. Even if you don’t want him to be, he would rather die than let you get into an actual Uber—and if it’s late at night? Forget it, Eren doesn’t care if you’re 45 mins away, he’ll come get you.

After you stabbed him with your pen for drawing in your notebook (with your very pristine notes), he started leaving sticky notes inside of them instead.

They’re all super random, usually incoherent, and sometimes just drawings, and you’d never tell him, but you keep every single one.

Cuts class a lot, but not to the point where he’s failing. Just when he feels like it’s deserved, you know? Like, if he attended lecture for a class all week, he deserved to skip Friday’s lecture. As a treat.

He’s embarrassing. Endearing, but so embarrassing. Like, singing in the middle of the street embarrassing. Asking you to do a TikTok in public embarrassing. Why do you even love him.

Moves off-campus during junior year and rooms with Jean and Armin in three-bedroom house. So, he’s never actually lonely, but he’s a little crybaby and will whine to get to you to come over.

LOVES sleeping over at your place, though. Because you live with Annie and Mikasa, so your place is always clean and always smells good. Plus Mikasa and Annie are usually busy, which means you get more privacy at your place.

Mikasa honestly just starts making breakfast for Eren in the mornings when he does sleep over, and Annie is so unfazed by his presence.

Jumps at the opportunity to join in on your girls wine-night or skincare-routine night. So what if it’s him and three other girls drinking red wine with face masks on and talking about Anne Hathaway movies while playing Monopoly Deal? It leaves him pleasantly buzzed and his skin is absolutely glowing, suck his dick, Connie.

Likely doesn’t understand a thing about your major/program but listens enthusiastically when you talk about it anyways.

His lock screen is the only selfie he’s ever convinced you to take with him. (That’s okay because he has many screenshots of your snaps for safekeeping and blackmailing).

Tries to get you to exercise with him. If you’re into that, then great. If you’re not, it’s okay, he always has time to stop and take a mid-workout thirst trap to send your way. Because he’s annoying like that.

Once accidentally replied to the whole class instead of just the professor on an email asking him to be a g and bump his 89.9 to a 90. Embarrassing. (The prof did raise in the end tho, so maybe he really does have some charm to him).

Has to wear reading glasses when studying for a long time/or at his computer for a long time, and even though he doesn’t like them, you think he looks super cute in them; so he wears them more often than usual. 

Calls you asking for the most obscure school supplies/stationary. “Babe, hey, you wouldn’t happen to have a spare 4x8 poster board laying around now would you?” 

Mind you this is at, like, 3am, 12 hours before the poster board in question is due. 

Speaking of stationary, is an absolute little shit and steals your good pens. He’s partial to the sparkly ones, if he’s being honest. They make his notes look better, fuck you, Jean. 

“Eren, give me back my purple 0.4mm pen.” “I don’t know what that is, sorry.” “Eren, I can see it in your hand!” 

Brings you snacks while you’re studying. If you’re really trying to crack down and be serious, he won’t even bother you. Just bring the snacks, bring you water and boba, kiss your little forehead and be on his way.

Has a polaroid camera he got as a birthday gift, and uses it to sneak pictures of you whenever you’re not looking. He keeps the good ones hung up on a sponge board in his room.

He has a few.... riskier ones too, but those are for his eyes only.

Loves to pick out your nail color when you get your nails done. Honestly gets a little pouty when you don’t ask him lmaoo

Purposely leaves his clothes around so you can wear them. Isn’t subtle about it in the slightest. Sometimes leaves them with a note: “Please wear this, you’d look cute as fuck. Thank you. —Management.”

(slightly nsfw below)

Is not too proud to ask you for risqué snaps. Not necessarily full nudes, thought he doesn’t object to those.

Will literally give you hickeys out of boredom. Will pull you onto his lap and start kissing your neck because he has nothing better to do. Also because it leads to sex 7/10 times. The other 3 times, it’s because he falls asleep with his head in your neck lmaoo

Might have once fucked you with one of his lectures playing in the background, but you’ll never tell.

He really likes phone sex. He’s shit at being quiet, so he can only really do it when Jean and Armin are out of the house, but there’s something about only being able to hear your moans to get off that really does it for him.

He’s kind of goofy and absentminded sometimes, so sometimes you’ll be mid-sex and he’ll look at you like “Hey, did you finish your assignment, it’s due tomorrow right?”

And honestly, you kinda wanna be upset, but then you start thinking—“Did I finish my assignment?” And then you realize you did and nod and he’s like “Ok, cool,” kisses your forehead and resumes where you left off.

[fivelakesinwriting]

hi love. i adore your series you have with barry and pregnant reader and i was wondering if you could write maybe a blurb where barry does this to her please <33

Author's Notes: I can't tell you how much I love writing Baby Daddy Barry. 12/10 could go on forever. It's very short, but full of love. If this was your request, I hope you love it xoxo

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual references - sexual innuendos

Requested? YES! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

Barry was bored. The only reason he came to this stupid baby class was because she had asked him to go. He felt like his instincts to care for a child, his child, were far better than anything Glen Newberg- Stone could tell him.

Strangle him with that fucking Polo if he asks me to come up to the front of the class again.

Barry sat behind his rather pregnant girlfriend, his legs on either side of her body as he looked around the room at the other couples who signed up for the class. The more he looked the funnier the situation became to him.

All of these babies, more than likely the product of polite, planned sex on a weekend date night after a couple glasses of Pinot. Not his boy. His boy was the product of a little whiskey, a power outage at his house and his woman's complete inability to keep her hands to herself when she drank whiskey. Or anything to be perfectly honest.

Barry was brought back to the eggshell coloured room when his woman laid back against him, her back pressed to his chest and her head rested back on his shoulder.

"We done now?" Barry mumbled with a quick kiss to the side of her face.

"Yeah. We can go now. Help me up, Daddy." She replied with a gentle pat to of his thigh as she pulled herself forward.

Barry let out a soft groan at the nickname, pursing his lips as he stood up and then got up. He stepped around to stand in front of her, taking her hands and pulling her upright, his hands on her lower back to keep her steady.

"I gotcha." He muttered as she lost her balance, hands on his shoulders.

"He's sitting so heavy today, Barry." She whined softly, hands on her lower back.

"C'mon, take you home. Get you out of these clothes." Barry smiled as he rubbed his fingertips into the small of her back and led her out of the room towards the parking lot.

Back at the house, upon entry, she pulled her maternity jeans off and kicked them across the living room as she rubbed her swollen belly with a loud whine. Barry breathed out a small smile, his heart aching just a little that she was so uncomfortable - partly because of him.

"C'mere, woman." He muttered as he walked up behind her, his chest pressed to her back as he placed his hands beneath her stomach and lifted her heavy baby bump.

"Oh, fuck. That's perfect." She moaned out as she bent her head forward and grabbed onto his hands as he relieved the strain his son created on her body.

"Better?" He grinned as he held swollen belly for a few more moments, his thumbs caressing her stomach over the shirt of his she had made her own the last few months.

"Can you just follow me around all day and hold him up? I swear I'll make it worth it for you." She whispered as she rested her head back on his shoulder, her left hand reaching back to grab at his hair.

"You already pregnant, woman. Easy." Barry grinned with a quick kiss of her neck as he slowly released her belly.

"I meant like, buy you a six-pack. Or consider one of your stupid names for the baby." She laughed softly, her fingertips twisting his hair around at the nape of his neck.

"Humphrey ain't a bad name." Barry stated firmly.

"For a dog, Barry! Not a human child." She laughed as she kept her back against him.

"Never met a dog named Humphrey." Barry grumbled with another kiss to the side of her neck.

"And I've never met a baby named Humphrey either, so. Back to the drawing board, Big Guy." She replied as she turned around in his arms, her swollen belly pressed to his flat one as she reached for his shoulders.

"Fine. Get you to cave on Albert, though." Barry grumbled as he smoothed his hands over her belly.

"Albert! Never! I'm not birthing a 40 year old man, Barry!" She cried out with a laugh, her head tossed back.

"We can call him Al." Barry grinned as his fingertips crept beneath her shirt to feel her skin.

"No! I'm putting my foot down. That's a bad name for a baby." She laughed as she pressed her forehead to his.

"Fine, fine. Whatever you wanna name him, Mama." Barry grinned with a kiss to the tip of her nose as he ran his hands to her lower back.

Hottie List:

@starkey-babie @sodasback @fashion-fasting @barrysjumpsuit @beauvibaby @professional-busboy @soph0864 @vinniehcker

*tag list still open if you'd like to be added - just let me know!

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much! xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

[stupendousgardenunknown]

All of You

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x f!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: cheating, implied cheating, extramarital affair

Notes: Now we're getting somewhere. Thank you those who reblogged & liked, if you want anything feel free to request as I start to build up a collection.

Chapter 2: Made for You

You were woken up by a number of sounds. Your husband stumbling out of bed, groaning from what you could only assume was a pounding headache. Then gulping, and you mentally confirmed that he took the adderall. Then the shower turned on, and then a whispered “good bye, sweetie” as your husband took off for the day.

You wanted to go back to sleep, but there were so many interruptions you could no longer get comfortable. Opening your phone you saw it was already time to get ready for your cycling class. It was almost a religion at this point- but to be honest, it was the only space you had where you actually had female company. Silicon Valley’s female population consisted of two categories: The techies and the non-techies. Because of your marketing background you fell into the latter. Your cycling class had a good bunch, some were the wives of a few major players, counting their days until their husbands realized that money could indeed buy them female attention; and others were women who either had wealthy parents or had worked their way up the corporate ladder.

Your eyes fell on your nightstand and a small manila card caught your eye.

That’s right.

Lunch.

With Shinsou.

Today.

Your hands grazed the paper, and without realizing you had lifted it to your nose.

Fruity with a hint of musk. Did he spray his cards with his cologne? You wouldn’t be surprised, he was the- you take the time to really read the card.

Shinsou Hitoshi

Chief Operating Officer

Brainianics AI

Phone: XXX-XXX-XXXX

Email: SHitoshi@brainianics.com

COO, huh? Last night was the first time you had met this man… and yet… You flip the card- nothing, and open your phone, running a quick Google search. Your eyes flicked between browsers, clicking on “Shinsou Hitoshi age”. Which was 29, the same as you. “Shinsou Hitoshi Brainianics” and read a quick summary that he was one of the co-founders of the hugely successful AI firm. The purple-haired man was quoted on multiple articles, and even on the cover for several. A college drop out, who was behind the operation for the first lines of code that created their revolutionary AI software that rivaled even Google’s. It got its start from coding for a few indie video games that gained a cult following for its revolutionary use of AI in some NPC’s. Interesting. There were a few other searches that stopped you in your tracks. “Shinsou Hitoshi dating” and “Shinsou Hitoshi married”. Your breath caught in your throat and you rubbed your fingertips together.

Taking a deep breath, you clicked. You’re married- what do you care if this man who may help you with some future events was dating someone or even married too? That would be better, wouldn’t it? It would be easier to draw a line in the sand, a symbol that neither of you would cross. You wouldn’t throw a 10 year marriage down the drain, would you?

The images that popped up were hastily taken, and a few selfies of women. Shinsou wasn’t smiling in any of them- in fact he looked flat out bored. There were a few rumours, really just from some of the B-list actresses, and one was an alternative singer hoping to get some attention in order to sell her latest album- clearly. Still… You dragged yourself out of bed as you tried to ignore the sting of jealousy. Fuck cycling class… you thought.

Opening your closet doors you bit your lip, trying to decide what kind of look to go for. Chic? Casual? Business formal? Maybe he would appreciate something more casual, a call back of sorts to working on the ground floor of a startup. Putting in 70 hours a week just to keep afloat.

You choose something casual, some fitting jeans, a loose white tee and a colorful blazer you used to wear to some of your board meetings in order to be “the colorful one”. Although you frowned at the fact that your jeans were fitting a bit more snugly than you remember them being and your mind automatically rewinds to those images. Those size absolutely fucking nothing actresses with their arms wrapped around Shinsou’s waist. Looking up at him with those big doe eyes and laughing about something as if they didn’t know the paparazzi were there. Probably even said something along the lines of Oh no! The Paparazzi! How did they find us? How annoying, we can’t have anything private anymore! But the way he looked so disinterested… You couldn’t help but remember the way he looked at you. It made you shiver as you pulled your hair up into a ponytail. Your hair after a party was always the perfect combination of messy yet put together. The epitome of “just woke up like this” style.

Should you call first? Let him know you’re coming? No- that’s excessive. He invited you for lunch, he knows you’re coming. Still, you can’t help the feeling of excitement. The tingling that spreads throughout your body, like you’re getting ready to go out on a date.

…

The building is… big. It’s a big, standalone building that is angular and modern. A cursed look in this city. You glance back down at the card and check with the big letters on the side. Yup… You think. This is it alright. You stroll in and it’s bustling, like the building really isn’t a building but a living organism- and every employee is a cell hard at work. There are several front desk workers, and only one meets your gaze and stands up immediately. Were they expecting me? You think as the girl with brown bobbed hair smiles at you, her cheeks just slightly rosy.

“Mrs. …” She frowns as she gazes down at her clipboard, she struggles to say your last name and you laugh, saying it fully and clearly.

“O-Oh! I’m so sorry!” You shake your head, used to it by now.

“No worries, nobody gets it right.” The young woman beamed, proud that she at least made a valiant try.

“Mr. Hitoshi is expecting you, one of the managers should be here to lead you-” Before she’s able to finish another man comes within view and he grins at both you and her.

“Ah! Mrs.-” He, too, says your name wrong and you have to correct him as he steps closer. He’s a freckled man, dark, curly hair that almost appears green. He rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“I’m sorry! Usually I do all of my research on important guests- such as yourself! But today has been so hectic and Shinsou has been sort of out of it today- something about running into ‘one of the most beautiful’ women he’s ever seen? Anyway I thought my morning was going to be more free but one of our deadlines on a project just went from two months from now to-” Did this kid ever breathe?

“Two weeks from now- and, you know I don’t think clients understand we don’t just write the code but we test everything ruthlessly to make sure it works, Shinsou likes to see everything run once we’ve worked out all the bugs but he’s just so bust now, I think it’s because he’s sentimental. I did talk to him this morning and man whoever this woman is is sure doing a number on him, he said she stole- but she didn’t really still it, I mean, she bought this painting that he really wanted but turns out she’s-” He finally looked at you in the eye, and glanced down at your fingers. Your ring was blinding him and his voice died in his throat. Like he just realized that he fucked up.

“Th-That-” He stuttered, face turning bright red with heat that rushed to his cheeks. He had just told a story that Shinsou told him. About you.

“My name is Izuku, Izuku Midoriya!” He sounds so confident, yet shaky at the same time. Like he wasn’t used to being able to speak without interruption with the way he spoke so quickly. You look back at the receptionist and she gives an embarrassed, apologetic look.

“He tends to ramble.” She whispers to you. That makes sense… You want to say. Instead, you turn back at the man and reach out to shake his hand.

“Nice to meet you Izuku.” He must have hoped you would simply forget everything he just said, but your heart was racing too. He thinks I’m one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen? You hold back a smile as Izuku leads you through the building, a guest pass that the girl named Ochako gave you, hanging loosely on your neck.

He tells you a bit about some of the rooms, a little bit about the perks of the company as you pass them, but the green haired man makes a point to not look you in the eye again and to limit his chatter to strictly business. Like he can no longer trust himself to not further embarrass Shinsou. On a normal basis, hearing that another man beside your husband calling you beautiful would have you laughing before reminding them that you're a married woman.

Draw a line in the sand.

But you don’t. You simply smile. When was the last time Albert told me I was beautiful? It’s stupid. And you know it. Marriage, especially a long one such as yours, you should simply know that your husband thinks you’re beautiful.

You’re in an elevator now, and Izuku nervously shifts from leg to leg as the floors pass by. He’s run out of things to comment on, and he pats his dress shirt.

“Don’t worry- I won’t mention what you said earlier.” You say, and you mean it. Your goal wasn’t to rat out Izuku- who looked like he was going to have an aneurysm at any moment. He whipped around, relief written across his face.

“Really?” He asked.

“Really.” You said assuredly, and the man let out a sigh, turning back around to face the door.

“Thank you-” He said quickly. “Sometimes I ramble, and it annoys people because I speak without thinking it through.” There’s a twinge in his voice, and you suspect that he didn’t come to this conclusion on his own but he was told. Probably not very nicely either. Your heart ached for him.

“It’s okay,” You step closer. “I find it funny.” It was a half truth. Because you did think it was funny- but also cautious. You would have to monitor what you tell him, if he was that nonchalant with telling you what Shinsou thought of you. Izuku hummed in delight.

“I find it funny too.” He said, and the elevator dinged.

“Well-” He stepped out first. “Here we are!”

It’s a large space, almost half a floor. You follow Izuku towards the windowed wall where Shinsou’s desk sits. There’s a large conference table in the middle of the room, already decked out in catered food from a local bistro. It’s not half bad. A small charcuterie board, a selection of pastas and some different combinations of sandwiches.

“I’ll have to call you back.” You hear Shinsou’s voice and your eyes meet yet again. He’s so laser focused on you, even from this distance. He hangs up immediately, not bothering to hear what the person on the other line had to say. He stands up, and clears his throat.

“You came!” He sounded surprised, like he wasn’t expecting you to show after all.

“You invited me, didn’t you?” You laugh, and Shinsou gives you a half smile. He wanted to laugh with you but was so distracted it never made it out of his mouth. You were here. You took him up on his offer. He couldn’t walk to you fast enough, but he didn’t want to seem too eager. Too excited. He didn’t want to scare you off. After all, you had just arrived. He wasn’t sure how long you’d be staying, but he wanted to make sure it was for as long as possible.

“Please, have something to eat.” Before you realized, he was behind you, so close you could feel his hot breath by your ear and you couldn’t help but to shiver. His deep, baritone voice rattled through you as if you were hollow, his hand pressed against the small of your back and you forgot how to breathe.

“Um,” Your cheeks flushed and he noticed, backing away slightly. “Thank you- is- is this from ‘The Yum Spot’? Just down the street?” You tried to steer the conversation, mainly to recenter yourself. Shinsou stared at you for a short second before catching on and glancing back at the assortment. Izuku was already grabbing himself a plate.

“Have you been there before?” Izuku interrupted, briefly looking up from his tough decision between a turkey on white and a turkey on rye, and you almost forgot he was there at all.

“N-No, I just,” You couldn’t help but to meet Shinsou’s dark eyes again, but you look away.

“I passed by it on the way here.” Your hand finds its way to the back of your neck, scratching nervously, and you decided you were actually, very hungry. Izuku didn’t waste anytime, already chewing.

“It’s so good! People think sandwiches are so boring, but they’re sooo satisfying.” Izuku said in between bites. You carefully placed a simple hamd and cheese on white on your plate along with some pasta salad. You took a seat on the couch adjacent to the long desk. Izuku soon followed. Shinsou eventually made his way back over, his own plate full of just pasta salad.

“Not a sandwich guy?” You asked, light heartedly. The purple-haired man chuckled, adjusting his tie.

“I’m actually not so much of a sandwich guy than I’m just a pasta guy.” Your brows raise.

“Shinsou’s a pasta-fiend. Once he chartered a plane to go to Italy just for their pasta.” Izuku interjects, laughing. Shinsou has the ghost of a smile on his lips, but it never quite forms, instead he sniffs slightly and scratches the bridge of his nose.

“That was uh,” He shifts in his seat. “During my more wild days, we had just gone public.” He looks at you and holds one of his nostrils closed- signaling that he wasn’t completely sober when said events took place. You could somehow see it, a younger Shinsou, flush with money and opportunity. You wondered if it was completely on his own or if he had friends encourage him to do it, but he didn’t strike you as a man who was easily peer pressured.

“Oh?” You stifle a small chuckle as you chew on a forkful of the pasta salad. “Don’t make coked up decisions anymore?” You questioned and Shinsou actually laughed. It must have been a shocking event, because even Izuku looked at him strangely. Like hell had frozen over. It’s a full bodied laugh, one that erupted from deep in his stomach, one that overtook his lungs as it escaped his throat and filled the large room. It was contagious. You smirk and look at him with lidded eyes, cheeks aflame. To be honest, what you said wasn’t even that funny.

“No-” Shinsou finally says, setting his plate down on the marble coffee table.

“Whenever I make decisions, I have a two step process.” He leans forward and you try not to audibly gulp.

“And what are those?” You ask, biting down on a biodegradable fork. The purple haired man’s gaze focuses on you and he wears a cool smile. He’s as cool as a cucumber, looking like he’s about to strike a deal.

“I ask myself,” He says slowly, and you hang on every word,

“Do I want this?” He raises his pointer finger to make a point. You nod. He raises a second finger.

“And how badly do I want this?” You remain still, physically unable to move. His eyes are glittered with mischief, and you wonder if there’s hidden meaning in his words. Is he talking about you? Somehow you force yourself to be ignorant. You have to. You’re a married woman. You have no business entering this kind of game.

“I see.” Your voice comes out as a choked whisper, and it delights him. He wonders if your husband has been able to do this to you, keeping your focus for so long like a dog waiting for a bone. To have you hanging on the edge of every word he says. Maybe at the beginning, he thinks. But from what he saw last night, that time has long passed. His eyes shift, remembering that Izuku is here, casually mowing down his sandwich knowing that he may not eat again for the rest of the day due to deadlines. He was a hard worker, but he did have a tendency to get tunnel visioned.

“So tell me about yourself.” Shinsou leans back and crosses a leg, a thought crosses his mind to tell Izuku to leave you two. But he knows he can’t. He absolutely can’t trust himself to be in a room alone with you. After all, you’re at the beginning of the game. He can’t scare you off now.

…

You start off by telling them about your first job in Silicon Valley, and you’re surprised by their attentiveness. You’re not sure why, but nobody has been this interested in your background. Not even your husband. Shinsou asks a few follow up questions, what college you came from, even about your small hometown. He makes a mental note by the way your head tilts down when you say the name.

He admires the passion, he admires the story. He himself wasn’t taken seriously by anyone until people realized what he could offer. And that was code. Knowledge. Power.

Even though he’s known you for- what, a day and a half? He’s impressed by how much brighter you’ve become. He was certain the sun was shining brighter with how enthusiastically you were speaking about your non-profit. You had numbers ready, facts, historical context. You knew your stuff, and it wasn’t just something you recite over and over, this was something you cared about. Izuku interjected with some related stories, and Shinsou listened carefully, trying to not get too lost in simply listening to your voice.

When you describe the program you want funding for, it’s probably the easiest answer you’ve ever given.

“Yes. Whatever you need, send any invoices to me and I’ll have it taken care of. You have my full support.” By the look on your face, you’re used to having to fight for support. You should know, anything you ask Shinsou for, you’ll have. But he couldn’t say that directly to you, now could you? That he’d give you anything your heart desires. Pleasures of your or pleasures of the flesh. God, he couldn’t wait for that.

Even Izuku seems a little shocked by how fast Shinsou answered.

“Sh-Shouldn’t we run that by Mi-”

“I’ll personally vouch for this to Mirio. Don’t worry about it, Izuku.” Shinsou interrupts, his eyes never leaving you. He was so sure. Izuku backed down, but worry was still evident on his face.

“Thank you, Mr. Hitoshi.” You say, and Shinsou quickly exhales from his nose as he stands up.

“Please, call me Shinsou.” He wanted to hear you say his name more. He wanted the words to leave your pretty lips. You nodded, lips pressed tightly together. He glances at Izuku before checking his watch. It’s already been over an hour and he’s late to a meeting.

“I have another meeting, but contact me if you need anything. You have my information.” He says and you jump up, immediately apologizing for making him late. He shakes his head as you move toward him, hand extended to shake his. Izuku jumps up as well, sneaking another sandwich before exiting the room, if Shinsou was late then that meant he was as well.

His hand envelops yours and he nearly shivers at the feel of your skin. It was a luxury that he no longer wanted to go without.

“There’s a fundraiser I’d like to invite you to, Ochako can send you the details.” He says, half lidded eyes boring into you. You bite your lower lip, unsure how much more of this you can take. Regardless, you accept his invitation and realize that he hadn’t let go of you yet. You tilt your chin to look at him- God is he that much taller than you?

“And I mean it.” It takes you a second to realize what he’s talking about, and he looks so serious.

“Anything you need. I can give it to you.” It’s a promise that he intends to keep. He asks himself,

Do I want this?

Yes.

How bad do I want this?

He takes another, long look at you and he has to will himself to not lean it to meet your lips.

More than anything.

…

Shinsou wasn’t sure why he accepted the invitation, but he had an empty night so why not?

Why not? He had met your husband when they were shopping for some new law firms to represent a new product they were going to release this fall, and Albert figured this would be a great way to court the company.

“It’s my wife’s birthday, you’re more than welcome to come!”

Why not?

When he arrived he wanted to roll his eyes. This was going to be like any other party in this town. Hot shot lawyer, with a big house, and a supermodel wife who was way too young for him. Yawn. Your house was beautiful, and it was very apparent that you were the main interior decorator. He was sure your husband couldn’t care less. One of the caterers offered him a glass of champagne and he took it, giving her a curt nod in thanks and slipping her a twenty.

The more he observed the more bored he was becoming- or was that simply the edible hitting his system? He wasn’t sure what it was, but something caught his eye upstairs. A painting. Suddenly he was thrust back ten years ago. His legs moved on their own, and he realized he was going to get a closer look. There was no way this was it. This was the missing piece. He had attended a friend’s gallery opening all those years ago, and absolutely loved Arlo’s work. He wanted it all.

“Well… one of them is spoken for.” His friend avoided his eyes, unsure if the purple haired man would be angry or simply disappointed.

“What?” He wasn’t sure why he was angry about it- he blamed it on the coke.

“Someone bought this one.” It was the mother and child painting, and to be honest, he could have gone without, but it was the sheer fact that he would be missing one out of the 10 paintings. 9 is an odd number after all.

“Who? I’ll pay double?” His friend looked apologetic.

“Now, Shin, you know I can’t tell you that.”

That was 10 years ago.

And it was… here. He stood in front of it, shocked that it was so close this whole time. What were the odds? That gallery opening was in New York for god’s sake. The missing piece in his collection was just a 40 minute drive away. Then there was you. You were quiet, slowly approaching and if he was slightly higher he probably wouldn’t have noticed you at all.

God he wished he was sober.

You wore a green dress that accentuated every curve you had, your hair was up showing off your perfect neck. Your eyes… he wanted to stare into them for hours. Something swelled in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Every fiber in his being told him to talk to you. To have you. To do everything to you and for you. Like he had finally found meaning, the missing piece. You had stunned him, but he had to do something. Say something. He gestured towards the painting.

“This is the one piece I couldn’t seem to find.” He said, and a fear overtook him. How long would you be here? He already couldn’t stand the thought of you leaving. Were you another guest? He tried to drink you in, taking in every detail like he was a starving man. Finally, his eyes settled on the rock on your finger. He wasn’t sure what he was saying, but his heart stopped right then and there.

You were… Spoken for. He didn’t realize he had said it aloud until he heard something very similar to his own voice say exactly what he was thinking. What were you doing to him? How could simply seeing you break him down into pieces like this?

When he gets home he decides to do some… light research. He looks up your social media accounts, and is disappointed you have nearly everything set to “private”. He takes some solace in knowing that you’re very active with several organizations. You look so perfect, so colorful. Smiling brightly in team photos, he tried to go back as far as possible. And no kids? After ten years of marriage he wonders if it’s a choice or a medical reason, and he can’t decide if he’s happier at the thought. He couldn’t care less for children, but if you wanted them he’d be delighted to give you some. He’ll give you as many as you could possibly want. He bites his lip at the thought, pumping you full of children. He swallows. He’s also prepared to live a childless life. A trip to whatever country you wish to visit, a life with just you and him. But something nagged at him.

Why are you still married to him?

He looks up your marriage certificate, luckily you filed within the State of California, and sneers at Albert’s signature. He looks at tagged photos, and takes his time to stare at the photos of you when you were a young college student. You were just so cute. Cheeks a little fuller than they are now, and he commended you for not completely indulging in the “silicone” look. You were aging like fine wine. He appreciated that.

Why are you still married to him?

The question circles in his head until he can no longer take it. He knew this was wrong. He paused on the picture where you celebrated your engagement, every wedding anniversary photo, every “#Throwback” picture to your wedding day. You were a married woman. You made the conscious choice to make vows to this man.

Why are you still married to him?

The question haunts him again as you leave his office. Then, he realizes; he’s been asking himself the wrong question. He leans back into his chair as he dials into his next meeting, apologizing when he enters the conference call. No… the question shouldn't be why you’re still married. The question should be:

What will it take for you to leave him for me?

[alpacaparkaseok]

Lost in Japan

Requested by anon - a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post. Thanks for sending it in! 

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x reader

Premise: Taehyung gets lost while shooting Bon Voyage in Japan with the members. Thankfully, he runs into you.

You were fairly certain that your eyes were deceiving you. Standing awkwardly outside of a convenient store, staring down at a map that one of the employees was holding up, stood Kim Taehyung. 

His Japanese was only getting him so far. From what you could hear, it sounded like the real problem was the fact that he wasn’t quite sure where he was supposed to be in the first place. 

You weren’t the only one that was starting to notice who was loitering about downtown Aomori. 

Taehyung kept glancing up, assessing the growing crowds that were beginning to form, all of them waiting anxiously for the light to change to cross the street. The employee seemed to notice his worry, beginning to lose his patience. 

“Take the map,” the employee sputters out. “Just buy it really quickly. It looks like you need to get going soon.”

Taehyung blanches. “Er...I don’t have my wallet on me...” he pats his jeans as though his wallet might magically appear. “Could I come back later...?”

The employee looks a bit uncomfortable, mirroring Taehyung’s expression. “I don’t know...if you’re lost already, who’s to say you’d be able to find your way back?”

You hardly realize how close you’ve gotten, but as you watch Taehyung’s eyes drop to his shoes and red color his cheeks, you take the last few strides up to him. Both men look up at you, apprehension in their eyes.

“How much is the map?” You ask without thinking, already fishing your wallet out of your bag. 

Taehyung stares at you with unabashed embarrassment. “Oh, really don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”

You shrug, already handing over some cash to the shocked employee. “It’s fine. You’re not from around here, are you?”

Blinking at you like you might have suddenly grown another head, Taehyung slowly shakes his head. “...no. I’m not. Do you know...who I am?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you barely manage to contain your grin. “Do you mean have we met?” You shake your head, taking the map the employee extends out to you and folding it meticulously. “No, I don’t think we have. Are you lost?”

Again, Taehyung looks a bit dazed but nods his head nonetheless. “I am, actually.”

Now you allow yourself to smile at him fully, fidgeting a little at how intensely he’s looking at you. “Well, I can call you a cab if you want. Just explain to me where you’re trying to get to.”

“Can I trust you?”

You blink, heart aching a little at the question. “I would say yes, but I’m a little biased. But either way, it looks like you’ve got about...ten seconds to make a decision.”

The traffic lights change, and suddenly a horde of people are making their way across the street and heading straight toward the convenience store. The employee has already retreated indoors, appearing to be boarding up for a storm. Taehyung looks back and forth between you and the other group almost comically before stepping toward you.

“Alright, let’s go.”

~~~~

After some careful maneuvering through the convenience store and out into the back alley, Taehyung chuckles. You give him a quizzical look, marveling as he runs a hand through his curly hair. 

“What’s so funny?”

Taehyung shrugs, giving you a genuine smile. “I feel like James Bond or something!”

“I’m pretty sure James Bond doesn’t get lost so easily,” you tease, heading down the alleyway with the idol in tow. “So where exactly are you trying to get to? Describe it to me.”

Taehyung does just that, and you recognize the location almost immediately. “Really? I know exactly where that is.” Heading toward the street, you wave down a cab. “I’ll just give them the address and they’ll take you straight there-”

“Um, about that...” Taehyung watches with a wary eye as the cab pulls over. “I don’t have any money, remember?”

“Ah...I’ll just pay him right now. Don’t worry about it.”

You lean down to speak to the cab driver but stop as Taehyung’s hand lands on your elbow. Ignoring the blush undoubtedly creeping up your neck, you look back at him.

“I’ll Venmo you,” he says.

“...ok.”

“But...”

“But?” You straighten, frowning. “What?”

Taehyung looks at the cab, chewing on his bottom lip. “Well, don’t you want to get your money’s worth?”

~~~~

And that’s how you ended up here, sitting in the backseat of a cab giving Kim Taehyung a tour of Aomori. 

You whiz past several monuments, wracking your brain for some sort of historical fact you can give the idol. Whatever you do say isn’t all that impressive, but Taehyung goes along with it. 

“You’re an amazing tour guide,” he croons, a teasing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, pointing out the window to the setting sun.

“And here we have the sunset. This phenomenon happens every evening, and is often subject to many poor-quality photos.”

Taehyung laughs, going along with your joke. “So why do people take pictures if they don’t turn out right?”

You shrug. “I’m not sure. Maybe because they want to remember it? But it never turns out as good as the real thing.” This time you laugh along with Taehyung before something catches your eye.

“Oh!” You all but shout, pointing frantically at an upcoming building. “This is the hidden gem of Aomori. Best restaurant ever.”

Taehyung follows your line of sight, eyes landing on a dingy restaurant. it’s small, one of those that you’ll miss if you blink. He smiles softly, glancing back over at you with a curious expression. Leaning forward in his seat, he taps the cabbie on the shoulder. 

“Pull over please. We’ll be stopping here.”

You try to protest, frowning at him. “But we’re not there yet, and it’s too far to walk-”

“We’ll take another cab,” Taehyung reassures you. “C’mon. Dinner’s waiting.”

~~~~

And that’s how you ended up here, seated across from Kim Taehyung in a restaurant that you’d never realized was so run-down until you were bringing a global star through its doors. 

He doesn’t seem to mind, though. No, Taehyung is grinning as he orders his food, looking over at you every so often. You do your best to not notice, with no success. 

“I’ll have the yakitori as well, please,” you manage to choke out. Hopefully the warmth inside the restaurant is a good enough excuse to cover up the redness in your cheeks. 

Taehyung sips on his drink, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Here, let me Venmo you.”

“Oh,” you start, shrinking back in your seat. “It’s fine, really. This was kind of my idea-”

“No, it wasn’t,” Taehyung clarifies. “And now I’m treating you to dinner. So, Venmo. Now, please.”

Looking at the way his hair falls into his eyes and those eyes appear so solemn yet boyish at the same time, you wonder if anyone has ever been able to say no to him. 

You certainly can’t.

Taehyung begins asking you simple questions, and you fire them right back at him while you wait for your food. 

“Why are you in Japan?” You ask, taking a long sip of your drink. Taehyung sits back in his seat, looking around the restaurant. 

“I’m visiting with friends. On a vacation of sorts.”

“Of sorts?” You arch an eyebrow. Taehyung smiles softly, eyes alight with some sort of inner glow. 

“How do you know your way around so well?” He asks, completely ignoring your latest question. You decide not to push it. 

“I’ve lived here for a while,” you shrug, watching as a waiter appears with your chicken skewers. Your mouth waters at the mere sight of them, and Taehyung chuckles while watching how your expression changes. “Cheers,” you croon, immediately diving in. 

Taehyung follows suit, groaning as the chicken makes his tastebuds dance. “This is amazing.”

You grin, waving the skewer in the air before chomping down. “Told you so.”

You’ve made it through nearly two skewers before you realize that the two of you have been eating in complete silence. Glancing up, you see that Taehyung must be thinking the same thing as he looks over at you with a sheepish smile. 

Covering your mouth, you cackle and relish in the way Taehyung laughs right along with you. He’s read your mind, setting down his skewer and quickly answering a text before returning his attention to you. 

“Are those your friends wondering where you are?” You ask, heart dropping a bit. Taehyung nods. 

“Yeah. I told them that I’ll be back a little later.” He grabs another skewer. “Should we head out?”

You finish off your chicken, trying your best not to look a little crestfallen as you agree. Taehyung smiles warmly, thanking the waiter profusely as the two of you head out. 

This time Taehyung waves down the taxi, repeating the address you told him earlier. “That’s the right place, right?” 

“Yeah, you’ve got it.” You take a step back. “Thanks for the food.”

He looks back at you, the cab drawing nearer. “Thanks...for everything today.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I actually had a lot of fun.”

You grin. “Me too.”

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he chews on his bottom lip for a moment before extending it out to you. “Could I maybe have your number?”

Now you’re unable to stop grinning, and you quickly type your number in, triple checking that it’s correct before handing his phone back to him. “There you go. Now, you should probably get going. Cab’s waiting.” You begin to walk away, not wanting to look like some lost puppy as he leaves. 

Taehyung nods, that dazed look back in his eyes as he hesitates. “Actually...” You whirl around a bit too quickly to be casual, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Could we maybe take a photo together?”

You smile, recalling a bit of your conversation from earlier. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people that takes low-quality photos of the sunset.”

Taehyung’s face lights up, a laugh rumbling through his chest. He meanders over to you, smiling down at you. “What? I want to remember this.” His eyes convey the message that his lips fail to speak. I want to remember you.

So you smile for the picture, and ask him to send it to you. As you wave goodbye as the car takes off down the street, you jump a little when your phone pings twice in a row. 

The first is a message, the photo Taehyung just took. 

The second is a Venmo notification sporting a ridiculous amount of money with the caption, Cab $ - let me know when you make it home.

~~~~

It’s only three days later that you find yourself sitting near the back of a large room, fans everywhere chatting or singing along to whatever song is currently playing. You smile down at your phone, Taehyung’s contact coming up as he sends off a text. 

Tae: I’ll call you in a couple of hours, heading into a meeting. 😊

You snort. He has no idea that you’re here, does he?

The past few days have been a dream, living in nearly constant contact with Taehyung while he enjoys his time here in Japan. However, you never quite found the right time to tell him that you actually know who he is. Let alone the fact that you were going to be in attendance at the fan meeting today.

A couple of moments later the boys appear at the front of the room, and the event begins. 

Your heart pounds as you line up to meet the boys, clutching the item in your hands that you brought for Tae. Most of the boys don’t recognize you, which you expected. Only Jimin gives you a double take, but he shrugs it off a moment later. 

He must have seen the photo Taehyung took with you.

Tae hardly looks up from where he’s focused on each fan, making you smile. The sound of your heart pounding fills your ears as you step forward until you’re in front of him. He’s looking at the fan that just left, who’s still speaking to him. 

You slide your photobook across the table to him, and he immediately begins to sign it. 

“Have you been having fun so far?” He asks, still not quite looking up at you. You grin.

“I have,” you say. Then, sliding the same map you bought from the convenience store toward him, you say, “I got you this. You know, just in case you decide to get lost again.”

Taehyung frowns but looks at the map. His mouth falls open before looking up at you, that beautiful smile taking over his features. He has to physically restrain himself from leaping up, but settles for grabbing your hand in his. 

“Hey,” he breathes out.

You smile, and wonder for a moment if you’ve stopped smiling in the past three days since you met Taehyung. “Hey. So, do you like your gift?”

His eyes never leave your face as he grips your hand a bit tighter. “It’s great, but I don’t think I’ll need it.”

“Oh?”

“Not when I have you as my personal guide.”

masterlist

[remedialpotions]

Off The Train

Thanks to @mertronus for tagging me in the HPRomione Discord Popcorn game thingy! The prompt she gave me was: "I can finally see you."

I'm tagging @acnelli with the prompt: "You can't just keep pretending things are fine!"

***

”I can’t wait until you get off that train,” says Ron, his voice low and lazy with fatigue, “and I can finally see you.”

Hermione shifts in her bed so she’s lying on her side, mirror held out before her. This way, she can pretend - if she squints a bit, and ignores the crimson hangings of her four-poster bed - that he’s lying next to her, and not hundreds of miles away in London.

“What do you mean, ‘finally’?” Hermione, too, keeps her voice quiet. It won’t do, in her final days as Head Girl, to be waking her dormmates. “You’re looking at me right now.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same. I can see you, but I can’t touch you, or...” The corner of Ron’s mouth twitches up into a crooked smile. “Or do anything else for that matter.”

“Right. Well,” she says, trying to infuse positivity into her voice, despite the weeks since the Easter holidays dragging into what felt like months and years, despite missing him so much that it’s like a heavy fog surrounding her. “It’s only a couple more days, right?”

“Can’t it be now?” Ron looks like he’s reclined in bed too now, his fiery hair stark against the deep navy of his sheets. “Just get to Hogsmeade, then you can Apparate-“

“You know full well that I cannot,” she replies briskly, even though it’s tempting, really tempting. “It’s-“

“-behavior unbecoming of a Head Girl,” Ron finishes her sentence. “I know. I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too.”

“I love you,” he adds after a moment’s silence, before his eyes widen with inspiration. “Oh, I’ve got it. What if I Apparate to Hogsmeade, and then walk to the castle - I bet Hagrid would let me through the gates-“

“It’s only two days, Ron.”

He sighs. “Fine.”

“And I love you too.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I know.”

•••

Pigwidgeon is the last owl to fly into the Great Hall, his little wings beating wildly to keep him aloft. With a scrap of parchment clutched in his tiny talons, he struggles over to the Gryffindor table before somersaulting down into Hermione’s lap.

Hermione’s heart sinks, and not just at the sight of the exhausted little bird currently burrowing into the crook of her elbow. Their two-way mirrors mean they don’t usually have to resort to writing letters. Not unless...

Hermione, the parchment reads when she unfolds it. Got called on an emergency mission. I’m not allowed to tell you where or why or even how long but I’m hoping it won’t take too long. I’m still going to be there at King’s Cross, because I’m dying to see you and I can’t wait until all this is over and we can just be together. Anyway, I love you and try not to worry too much. I promise to do my best not to die.

Ron

“Oh, good,” comes Ginny’s voice from beside her, and Hermione turns to see her peering intently at the parchment. “He’s promised not to die, that’s a relief-“

“He’ll be there,” interrupts Hermione, tucking the note in the pocket of her robes before Ginny can further infringe upon her privacy. “If he thinks it’ll only take a day, then I believe him.”

Ginny blinks. “I never said he wouldn’t be.” Plucking Pigwidgeon from Hermione’s lap, she offers him water from her goblet. “I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about.”

“It’s probably just a quick day trip,” Hermione rationalizes, eyes focused hard on Pigwidgeon as he drinks so she doesn’t have to see the sympathy she knows is etched on Ginny’s face, “and he just wanted me to know in case - well-”

“In case he dies?”

Ginny’s attempt at a joke falls flat.

“Well, just in case, you know, something were to - to happen,” Hermione stammers, “and anyway, it’s just good for me to know - I like to know what he’s up to - not in a controlling way or anything, just-”

“Of course,” Ginny interjects bracingly. “I’m sure he just wanted you to know, that’s all. I’m sure he’ll be there.”

Hermione picks up her mug of tea and holds it close to her face so the steam washes over her. She knows what they’re both thinking but are unwilling to say: that in the year Ron and Harry have been Aurors, neither has had a mission run shorter than a week.

•••

And so Hermione sits with Ginny and Luna on the train, watching the Scottish Highlands slowly transform into the low, tidy hills of the English countryside outside her window and hoping against hope that Ron will be there on Platform 9 and ¾. But she hasn’t heard from him since that first letter, and his mirror has gone dark. This doesn’t worry her - not for his safety, anyway - but it does make it difficult to share in Ginny’s gleeful anticipation as the train pulls into King’s Cross.

She busies herself with tending to Crookshanks, who is furious about his prolonged confinement in his basket, as Harry and Ginny embrace on the platform. It’s not that she’s upset, not really. Ron is doing what he needs to do, and she would never want him shirking his responsibilities just so he can kiss her on a train platform for the first time since April. She just wishes things could be different.

After Harry and Ginny depart for Grimmauld Place, she flags down a taxi and rides alone to her parents’ home. The family car is parked in front, which is unusual for a weekday, but when she goes inside, she finds her parents have been eagerly awaiting her arrival and can hardly let her set down her trunk before whisking her away to an upscale restaurant in South Kensington.

“So, tell us about school,” says Mum with an eager smile once they’re seated at their candlelit table. “How were your exams? I want to hear everything.”

“I will later,” Hermione replies, raising her brows and tipping her head pointedly in the direction of the waiter currently pouring red wine into their glasses.

“Oh, right, right, of course. Well, anyway, dear,” she begins as the waiter sets down menus and strides away, “your father and I have a little surprise for you.”

It’s foolish, she knows, but her mind leaps instantly to Ron. Maybe all of this business with his mission has been a ruse, and he’s here in London after all, and she’ll be able to come up with an excuse to spend the night at Grimmauld Place…

Until she notices that her parents are still talking, and there’s no tall, lanky, red-haired wizard to be seen in this high-end French restaurant, but there are three Eurostar boarding passes laid out across the tablecloth.

“Sorry,” says Hermione, shaking her head to clear away the daydream, “what’s going on?”

“We’re going to Paris!” announces Mum with delight. “We thought it would be so lovely to spend time together since you’ve been away for so long, and you’re about to start your new job - and I know you’ve always wanted to go there. We’ve got ten whole days, and everything’s booked, so all you’ve got to do is pack.”

“That - that’s - that’s brilliant,” Hermione musters, forcing her lips into some semblance of a smile. Her parents beam so brightly back that it’s almost difficult to look at them. “Erm, so when are we leaving?”

She crosses her fingers under the table, praying they’ll say August, or her birthday in September, or Christmas, anything but-

“This weekend!”

Of course.

•••

Paris is beautiful. It exceeds every single one of Hermione’s expectations. She and her parents consume copious amounts of bread, cheese and wine, they visit museums and cafes and old bookstores, they ascend to the top of the Eiffel Tower and take in the view. She thinks of Ron constantly as she walks the cobbled streets, as she crosses the Pont des Artes and sees the countless locks affixed to its railing. Before she left, she sent Harry an owl to tell him that she was leaving, so Ron would know where she was if he returned home before she did. As they can’t communicate when she’s staying in a Muggle hotel, she truly has no idea where he is, but she tells herself that he’s still on his mission. It feels better that way, imagining that even if she stayed in London, there would still be obstacles keeping them apart.

On their last day, she nearly empties out a patisserie buying eclairs and macarons for Ron, and then they board the Eurostar back to England. Nervous anticipation grips her stomach as the train barrels through the tunnel (idly, she wonders if Ron’s dad is aware of this train that travels underwater, and makes a mental note to tell him), because she has no idea what awaits her back in London. What if Ron’s still away? Or worse - what if something’s happened to him, and she’s been off enjoying a holiday while he’s been suffering?

The train can’t move quickly enough. Hermione can focus on nothing - not the paperback romance novel her mother has loaned her to read, not the Muggle newspaper that her father is engrossed in, not even the argument of the couple seated across the aisle from them. It’s only a two-hour trip, so why does it feel like it’s taking days?

She checks her mirror, but it’s still dark.

“You go ahead, sweetheart,” says Dad when the train finally rolls to a stop in St. Pancras station. “We’ll get the cases.”

Hermione looks up at the luggage rack over their heads, then at her parents. “Are you sure? I’ll bring mine-”

“We can manage. Go on ahead, get some fresh air.”

She doesn’t bother reminding them that train station air is hardly fresh, and instead heads down the aisle with just her purse and the box of pastries in tow. Truly, she’s not sure why her parents have sent her off the train without them; with the station as busy as it is, they’ll surely lose track of each other.

But then she sees him. Standing a head above the crowd, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his bright blue eyes scan the throngs of travelers. At first, she doesn’t believe her eyes. Surely, she’s just become so desperate to see him that she’s actually begun hallucinating.

But as she draws closer, he doesn’t ripple into nothingness, he doesn’t fade away. He’s really, truly there, his red hair curling behind his ears, one knee jiggling with pent-up energy the way it always does when he’s particularly impatient. As he turns his head, still surveying the crowd, their eyes lock and the rest of the station recedes into the background. Finally, they’re within sight of each other after months of hushed mirror conversations and stolen moments borrowing Professor McGonagall’s Floo. Hermione picks up speed, nearly skipping across the concrete in her haste, and flings herself into his waiting arms.

She fits against him perfectly. The fabric of his faded t-shirt is soft against her cheek as she breathes him in, and for the first time in recent memory, words fail her completely.

The box of pastries thuds to the ground.

“Hi,” he mutters, lips brushing her skin and sending chills up her spine.

“How - how did you-”

“Harry told me where you’d gone.” He presses a kiss to her cheek, and then, at long last, their lips connect. “It’s not that hard to look up train schedules.”

As reluctant as she is to pull away from him, she leans back just enough to look up at him. Behind the freckles scattered across his face, his cheeks have gone pink. “You’re amazing,” she tells him, rising on tiptoe for another kiss, unconcerned with the passersby and the blast of nearby train whistles.

Ron lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug when they break apart. “Had to meet you on a train platform somehow.”

[pascalpanic]

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Two / Mocha

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!Reader

Summary: Javier learns his fate. You take him out to that dinner you promised.

W/C: 2.8k

Warnings: language, mentions of food, tooth-rotting fluff. I mean it. 

A/N: HI FRIENDS if you can’t already tell from my blog, I LOVE red velvet cake and this chapter is highly self indulgent. This fic is so near and dear to me because I really relate to the reader and put more of myself in her than I do others. I hope you guys enjoy!!!

previous chapter || next chapter || masterlist

Mocha: espresso, steamed milk, and chocolate. Beloved for the sweet taste.

To his surprise, Javier didn’t get fired. In fact, they didn’t even mention Los Pepes. He walked in there, sweating bullets and filled with anxiety and caffeine, only to learn that they weren’t the review board. They were operations, and asked Javier what he knew about the Calí cartel. Afraid it was a trap, he didn’t answer, until the man across from him cracked a smile and told him about his new assignment.

“Your work with Escobar and the Medellín cartel was unconventional, but we needed it. If you’ll accept our offer, we’d like to assign you to Calí to head the investigation into their cartel.”

Javier’s brain froze in shock. He was wordless, staring blankly ahead and furrowing his brow. After a few moments, he mustered out all that he could. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, Agent Peña. With the assignment would additionally come a raise in pay and rank, as well as-”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take it.”

“We haven’t finished the offer-”

“I’ll take it, sir. Thank you,” he said, nodding.

“Well… take this,” he said, making Javier stand from the chair across from the room and take the file from his hands. “This is the information you’ll need, including your new pay and details. We are asking that you take at least some of your banked vacation time. You have several months of it, Peña. Our code requires that-” 

Javier’s fully aware of this policy. Use it or lose it. Unfortunately, he’d never had much time or want for vacation while chasing Escobar. What would he do? “Yeah, give me a month off,” he said mindlessly as he opened the file and scanned over the front page, in utter disbelief. He registered his surroundings after a second and looked up. “You won’t regret it, sir. Thank you,” he says and shakes the man’s hand before leaving the room.

Now, Javier stands at a payphone outside of the embassy, dialing your number in his pocket. When you pick up and ask who’s there, he laughs happily. “They didn’t fire me!”

“Congratulations,” you laugh as you realize it must be Javier. “What all happened?”

“I actually got promoted,” he admits, the adrenaline and caffeine rushing through his bloodstream. “It was absolutely crazy. They didn’t even mention Los Pepes or anything, just-”

“Are you ready for me to pick you up now?” You ask, cutting him off. “You can tell me the rest over some food. You need it. You didn’t eat that muffin I brought you.”

“What are you, my mother?” He asks dryly, but he’s too excited to be too annoyed. “No, I’ll head back to the hotel. Pick me up in 30 minutes?”

“Sounds great. Congratulations, Javier,” you tell him, grinning into the receiver. 

“Call me Javi.”

“Okay… Javi,” you say, biting your lip to hold back from giggling. “I’ll see you then.”

There’s a click and the phone line goes dead. You start giggling happily, flopping back onto the couch. Javier makes his way to the hotel, smiling. He lights up a cigarette, sighing at the way the warmth of the lighter contrasts the cold and snowy air. 

-

Holy fuck. You’re going on what could possibly be considered a date with a really hot guy and you need to get dressed, quick. You hurry around your tiny apartment, throwing on something nice-looking and messing with your hair. You spritz on some perfume, straighten yourself in the mirror, and rush out to the street. 

Georgetown is beautiful in the snow, you smile to yourself, but you wince as you realize the snow might slow you down. Your car is a piece of shit, you have to admit, but you love it. Her name is Whitney, in honor of Whitney Houston, and you beg and plead with her to behave as you make your way to Javier’s hotel. 

The radio plays some music quietly, and a handsome dark-haired man stands outside of the hotel, smoking a cigarette when you arrive. You flash your high-beams at him and he smiles as he puts out the cigarette and tosses it in the trash. “Hi,” you almost sing as he gets in the car. “Are you a hugger?”

“Am I a what?” He frowns and asks, looking at you. 

“Do you like hugs?” You ask, as if it’s obvious.

“I… don’t really receive many. They’re nice, I guess,” he shrugs as he looks you up and down quickly. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he tells you.

Warmth collects in your chest at his words. “Well, thank you. And I ask because I wanted to give you a hug of congratulations. I’m a big hugger,” you shrug a little and tilt your head as you look at him. He looks nice, in a button-up and those tight jeans you saw him in earlier.

A car honks behind you and you jump, awkwardly waving behind you and taking off so the next car can drive up to the hotel. Javier chuckles a little. “Well… I do like hugs, I guess. No one has ever asked me that.”

You look at him briefly, with confusion in your eyes, before they find the road again. “What a sad, sad life,” you chuckle. “I suppose. Are you… like, recently single? Did you date when you were in Colombia?” You ask innocently.

Javier exhales in a light chuckle. “No, never really had a relationship. Lots of flings,” he admits, finding that to be the best word to describe his situation. “But no relationships.”

You nod along, eyes scanning the road as you drive to dinner. “I see.”

“How about you?” He asks, wanting to deflect the attention from himself. That seems to be a common theme with him, you’ve noticed. All the conversations center around you, no matter how hard you try to talk about him. 

“Well, no. I haven’t really gone out much or done anything, really. I’m a bit of a homebody, but once I’m out I enjoy it. Problem is you can’t find a date from the couch.”

You reach the restaurant not much later, parking outside. You get out after chatting a little more, and Javi is taken by surprise when you wrap your arms around him in a big hug. “Uh, hi?” He laughs. He instinctively returns it, enjoying the feeling of your body pressed to his. He hasn’t had anything so tender in a long time. 

“I told you, it’s a congratulatory hug!” You say with a grin as you squeeze him then break away. “I’m happy for you.”

He smiles down at you. “I… thank you. That was nice.”

“Well, there’s plenty more where that came from,” you tell him and lead him inside, opening the door and heading into the restaurant. 

-

Javier is a fantastic conversationalist. He tells stories with his hands, vividly explaining stories from the chase for Escobar. He tells you of his partner, Steve, and his crazy methods; about Colonel Carillo, who he still thinks is one of the strongest men he’s ever met; of Stechner, who you already want to gut-punch if you ever meet. 

You watch him and admire the way his eyes dart about when he’s telling a story, the way he draws maps on the table with his fingers that you have no hope of understanding. 

The food is great but the company is better. Javier’s laugh is a beautiful sound, one rarely heard by others. He listens to you just as attentively, smiling as you talk about the coffee shop, about Georgetown, all of your life. 

By the end of the night, it’s easy to declare that you really, really like Javier. You like the way his lips quirk up in a smile, his intelligence and humor. You don’t want the night to end, truly. 

When the bill comes, he takes it before you can even try. “Hey, I told you I was paying as a congratulatory dinner,” you frown. 

“That can be another dinner,” he says mindlessly as he signs the receipt. “I always pay on the first date.”

“Oh, is that what this is?” You beam at him, tilting your head, eyes twinkling. 

He smiles as he looks up at you. “I was thinking it was. I have at least a month off work now, to be wherever I want and I have nothing to do. I’d like to properly take my time to get to know you,” he offers, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest. 

“It seems like nothing about you is proper, Javi,” you tease and sip your drink, quirking an eyebrow. 

He mirrors you, sipping his drink too. “That’s fair. But we’re in the nation’s capital, I suppose we should be a little more…”

You look at him and try to fill in the blank, smiling. “Practical? Traditional?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know what I meant to say there.”

You chuckle a little. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I like the sound of that.”

-

After dinner, you give Javier a little tour of Georgetown through the windows of your crappy car. The snow from earlier in the day has collected, dusting the tops of window sills and awnings over shop entries. Despite the snow, the car thermometer reads that it’s somewhat warm for the time of year.

There’s one warm little place with glowing lights. Despite the hour of night, it’s clearly open. Javier asks what it is. “Oh, that’s a little bakery,” you comment. “My favorite place, honestly. Their red velvet cupcake is fantastic.”

“That sounds good. I like chocolate more, to be honest,” he comments. 

You continue driving for a few seconds, rolling your eyes. “They have a good one there, but it’s so one-dimensional. It’s just chocolate with chocolate on top. Red velvet is the best because you have the cake and the tangy frosting, and-“

“Pull over?” Javier asks, and you look at him in confusion but pull into a parking spot obediently and quickly. 

Your eyes are wide in confusion. “What?” You ask him, concerned that something is wrong with the car. 

“I’m buying you dessert,” he chuckles and gets out. 

Your heart falls then and there for him. If you haven’t already decided, now you know that there’s no turning back. You want Javier Peña with a passion. “Jesus Christ, you could’ve told me that,” you laugh and turn off the car, getting off and bounding behind him. His long legs have already made strides ahead of you, leaving you to catch up. 

“You wouldn’t have stopped, would you?” He asks, the gentle snow leaving white flakes on his dark coat. He looks so pretty like this, the warm light from inside the bakery glowing against his dark hair. 

You roll your eyes but you’re smiling. “No, maybe not.” He opens the door for you and you thank him and follow him in. 

Javier walks to the counter and wastes no time. “Hi. I’ll take two red velvet cupcakes and two large coffees. How do you take yours?” He asks you as you join him at his side. 

“From my café,” you tease him, before turning to the woman behind the counter with a polite smile and asking for two sugars and two creams. Javier asks for his black. 

The two of you step back while she gets your order ready and you look at him, smiling a little. There are still soft white flakes in his wavy hair, which are slowly melting into water drops. 

You don’t know it, but he’s looking at you just the same. He admires you, smiling a little, just enough the quirk up one side of his mouth. “Thanks for buying,” you tell him and step a little closer. He’s warm, you can feel it radiating off of him, and the shop’s blasting cool air throughout. 

“Like I said,” he chuckles. “I always buy on the first date.” He reaches out to tuck a strand of your stray hair behind your ear. “Would you want to come up to my hotel room to eat the cupcakes?” He offers. 

You shake your head. “I work early tomorrow morning, I shouldn’t.”

Normally, Javier would be disappointed. Normally, he’d want to fuck you on the first date, leave you screaming his name until you can’t help but come back for more. But to his surprise, he doesn’t mind. He has a whole month to be with you, a whole month to fall for the woman he’s already half-lovesick over. “Not a problem,” he nods and walks to the counter as the woman calls that your order is ready. 

He hands you a large coffee, and you take a sip of the warm liquid, sighing. “There’s a little shelter out there,” you say, pointing to a bench with an awning above it to keep it clear from the snow. “Do you want to eat them out there?”

Javier half-smiles and nods. “That sounds good.”

It’s warm for the season, but there’s still a cool breeze. You hurry over and sit on the small bench, Javier sitting next to you. The sides of your thighs touch, and you’re both aware of it, the proximity this small bench forces you to squeeze into. Javier sets the box on his lap and opens it, revealing two red velvet cupcakes. “These look delicious.”

“They are,” you grin and pick one up, licking a bit of the frosting off the top and sighing in content with the taste. Javier watches you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the connotation. You look over at him with wide eyes, holding back a laugh. You both break down giggling at the action, your head falling against his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to do that like... that, I swear,” you shake your head as you sit up straight again. 

“You looked good doing it,” he teases you and bumps your shoulder as you unwrap the paper. “I’m going to save mine for later.”

You frown at him. “Come on. I have to be here when you try the best dessert of all time.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I’m too full. I’ll have it for breakfast tomorrow or something.”

“Javi,” you whine. “There’s no point of you getting two if we don’t eat them together. You have to eat it, come on.”

Javier looks over at your cupcake, which has one bite taken. “Let me take a little bite of yours then.”

An idea strikes and you nod. “Sure,” you say casually, holding it up for him to eat it. When he goes in to bite it, you move it closer to his face, causing the cupcake to smash into his chin and onto his nose.

Javier thinks he’s the one that missed. “Fuck,” he laughs as he crosses his eyes as he looks down at his nose, seeing the cupcake and frosting smeared on his face. He sees you giggling and laughs. “Hey, you didn’t… what the fuck?” He laughs, bringing his face close to yours. “That was uncalled for.”

“You were being a grump. I had to,” you giggle, your face naturally coming closer to his.

“And we don’t even have napkins,” he shakes his head and looks at you. “How can I clean this up?”

Tilting your head, your eyes dart between his, smiling at the dark brown color and the way they soften under your gaze. “I have an idea,” you murmur, cupping the side of Javier’s face and setting the mashed cupcake back in the box. 

Just a moment later, your lips are on his. His eyes have fallen shut and he sighs as you kiss him, a hand finding your waist and pulling you closer to him. He sets the box on the bench behind him and scoots closer, a hand on the side of your neck. 

He tastes like coffee and cream cheese frosting, his lips unbearably soft for such a hardened man. You soften him with your touch, when you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you. 

He’s in fucking Heaven, he thinks, murmuring your name against your lips. He knows you already, knows the kind of person you are. He’d figured you’d maybe give a chaste kiss on the first date if you liked the person enough. The voracity of your lips against his tells him you might just reciprocate the intensity of the deep ache in his ribs he feels for you. 

After a moment, you break away and smile softly. “I didn’t get all of it,” you frown as you see that there’s still some frosting on Javier’s nose. 

“At least now we match,” he teases and wipes your face of some red crumbs that transferred to your chin with the pad of his thumb. 

You giggle and press your forehead to his, the warmth of his body perfect against yours in the slight chill of the December night. “Will you come visit me at work again tomorrow?” You ask him. 

“Only if you make me a drink that tastes as good as you do.”

-

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[fangirlingtodeath513]

siren | a writer’s choice bingo fill

writer’s choice bingo masterpost rating: mature warnings: none

For a hunter, Dean’s frequent visits to the monster bar are unusual, to say the least. His profession tends to not mingle with monsters, even though the ones that frequent this place are the ones that live amongst humans without any issue. Dean doesn’t care, though. He’s met good friends through here and even had a few flings with some of them. He feels more at home here than he does in a hunter crowd, and he’s not really sure if he should feel as comfortable as he does about that fact.

Doesn’t stop him from looking for someone to spend the night with, though. It’s been too long since he’s had someone underneath him—or been underneath someone, frankly—so he’s nursing a single beer as he looks for someone that piques his interest. 

It doesn’t take long. A dark-haired man walks through the door within fifteen minutes of Dean sitting down and he looks perfect. Dean doesn’t even hesitate to grab his beer and vacate his table, sidling up to the man at the bar. 

“Hey there, gorgeous. Let me buy you a drink?”

The man turns to look at him and Dean can’t help but feel a little self-conscious as the stranger’s eyes skim the length of his body. “You can’t buy me the kind of drink I want.”

Dean frowns. This is a monster bar, so if the guy’s looking for blood or something, that’s not exactly an odd request. “You sure about that?”

The stranger smirks, leaning against the counter and raising an eyebrow at Dean. “Unless you’re prepared to ingest my venom and allow me to feed off your adoration for the next several hours, yes, I’m positive.”

Dean’s brain short-circuits at that because honestly… he wouldn’t be opposed. It must show on his face because the man tilts his head as he watches Dean. “Siren, right?” The man nods, so Dean clears his throat and finishes what’s left of his beer. “Then let’s get out of here.”

Dean catches the bartender’s eye and closes out his tab, turning back to the man. “I’m Dean, by the way.”

“Castiel,” the man answers with a wry smile. “How do I know you don’t have a bronze knife on you somewhere?”

Dean can’t help but smirk. “You can pat me down when we get to where we’re going, hm? My motel isn’t far.”

Castiel hums, nodding once as he turns to leave. Dean grins and slips his jacket on, following him to the parking lot. After a short discussion about the logistics of getting to Dean’s motel, they both pile into the Impala and Dean pulls onto the road.

“Do I even want to know how many daggers you’ve got in here?”

Dean laughs. “Four, but they’re all in the trunk. Don’t encounter sirens very often, honestly. Besides, I’d need the blood of one of your victims, right? I doubt you just leave those lying around.”

Castiel quirks an eyebrow. “You do realize if you ingest my venom, you’ll be considered my victim?”

Dean blinks and glances over at Castiel. “Huh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

An uncomfortable silence settles between them, so Dean just stays quiet as he drives. He doesn’t really blame Castiel for being nervous. A lot of hunters don’t care about the monsters that live in the gray areas, most are content to kill every monster they come across no matter what. Of course, Castiel would be concerned.

The parking lot is empty when they get there, so Dean parks in front of his room and pops the trunk before climbing out. Castiel watches him curiously, so Dean offers him a small smile and tugs the false door up to reveal his arsenal. “4 bronze daggers there. I’ve got a gun hidden in my room, though that won’t do much to you. Couple of steel knives that I’ll leave out here.” Dean proves his point by grabbing the sheaths from his waist and ankle and tossing them in the trunk.

Castiel chuckles. “I believe you, but thank you. You wouldn’t have been allowed in that bar if you weren’t friendly. Benny takes security seriously and, no offense, I could smell the hunter on you five miles away.”

Dean smirks. “I taste better than I smell, promise.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and follows Dean into his room, depositing his trenchcoat on the chair near the door. “You’re positive you don’t mind? The effect will wear off by morning.”

Dean hums, already beginning to unbutton his flannel. “Not even a little. There a certain way you need to do it?”

Castiel smiles and crosses to Dean in a few long strides, cupping his cheek gently. “A kiss will work just fine.” 

Dean’s not sure what he’s supposed to feel when their lips meet, but he definitely doesn’t feel poisoned. Not that he’d know what it felt like anyway—he wasn’t lying when he told Castiel he’d only seen a few sirens in his career. Dean lets himself get lost in the kiss, barely even noticing when Castiel starts to push the flannel off of him. He’s way more on board once Cas starts to unbutton his jeans, his long fingers brushing over the erection already forming in his briefs. 

“You’re right, Dean, you do taste better than you smell,” Castiel mumbles, a small smile on his lips as he leans down to kiss Dean again.

~

Dean pulls up to the nondescript apartment building, sitting there for a moment before shutting the car off. He hasn’t seen Castiel for over four months—apparently, the length of time a siren can go without feeding—but Castiel had called out of the blue and asked him to come over. Dean had only been a state over on a hunt, so he’d wrapped up his business there and driven straight to Castiel’s.

He looks weak when he opens the door, and far more pale than the last time Dean had seen him.

“Cas? You okay?”

Castiel smiles weakly, stepping aside to let Dean into the apartment. “I’m alright. I went… longer than I should have without feeding. I wanted to, I just... “ He turns his gaze back to Dean and the unspoken words hang heavy between them. Dean thinks he knows what Castiel was about to say, but he doesn’t want to pry. 

“Alright, well let’s get you back to yourself then, hm?”

Castiel smiles gratefully, allowing Dean to draw him into a kiss.

~

It becomes a recurring thing between them. Every month or so, sometimes more often if Dean’s passing through Cas’s state, they’ll meet up and sleep together. Castiel gets his fix of adoration, as he likes to say, and Dean gets a warm, fluffy bed and a good fuck. He can’t complain, even if he does wake up a little bit tired the morning after. 

“So, Benny’s hiring,” Dean offers one morning over breakfast. It’s been almost a year since he went home with Castiel for the first time, something he still can’t believe. He’s never actually had a relationship this long, and they’re not even actively in a relationship. 

Castiel quirks an eyebrow. “Indeed. I saw the sign on the door.”

Dean hums. “I’d make a good bartender, I think.”

Castiel leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m sure you’d be wonderful at it. You want to give up hunting?”

“I’ve been wanting a life outside of hunting recently,” Dean admits with a shrug. “Gets a little too dangerous after a while. Besides, it would be nice to sleep on a comfortable bed like yours every night instead of those shitty motel beds. Or worse, Baby’s back seat.”

Castiel studies his face for a moment before frowning. “I’m sorry, I must have given you too much venom last night. Perhaps you should stay another day.”

“What? No, Cas, I’m being serious. I like it here, I’ve got friends here, I’ve got you—well, not… you know, I… fuck. I didn’t mean it like that.” Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I like you, alright? It’s not because of your venom, it’s because of you.”

Castiel smiles, though it looks sad. “We were up late last night, I’m sure my venom hasn’t worked its way out of your system yet.”

Dean scoffs. “Hey, I can think for myself, thank you very much. Your venom’s not even that potent, man, it’s never made me feel any different.”

Castiel squints at him. “Never?”

“Nope. Why?”

“Well it’s supposed to make you disoriented and passive, so you’ll follow my every order no matter what. It… doesn’t do that?”

Dean snorts. “Follow your every order? God no. If you’re so convinced I’m still poisoned, make me do something.” 

Castiel frowns. “I don’t like making people do things. It’s why I’m always so careful with what I say when we’re together.”

“I’m telling you, I’m immune to your venom or something. C’mon, try it.”

It takes a moment, but Castiel eventually acquiesces. “Refill my coffee.”

Dean waits a moment, half expecting to be compelled to refill Castiel’s mug, but nothing happens. Castiel frowns and sits up.

“Kiss me.”

Dean waits again, raising an eyebrow at Castiel. “See? Nothing.”

Castiel frowns. “Stay with me tonight? I want to see if you’re immune after you ingest my venom.”

Dean smirks. “Damn, Cas, if you wanted to fuck me again you coulda just asked.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, though the hint of a blush on his cheeks gives him away. “So you’ll stay?”

Dean hums his agreement, eyes widening as Castiel leans over the table to kiss him. Once again, they both wait, expecting God only knows what to happen, but nothing changes. 

“Go get my phone,” Castiel orders. The tone of his voice sends a shiver down Dean’s spine and though he wants to obey, he won’t. Castiel needs the proof. “You’re actually immune,” Castiel breathes, a look of wonder written on his face. “You want to move here to be closer to me of your own free will?”

Dean frowns. “Yeah, man. I like you, Cas. Not your venom.”

Castiel grins, leaning over to kiss him again. “Then just move in with me. I love you, I just didn’t want to force you to be with me.”

Dean blinks. “You love me?”

Castiel chuckles. “Why do you sound so surprised? You’re easy to fall for, Dean.” 

Dean grins, pulling Cas in for another kiss, their breakfast entirely forgotten between them. “I’ll go get my stuff out of my car and call Benny.”

Castiel hums. “Later. Right now, we need to celebrate.”

Dean laughs. “Oh? How so?”

Castiel smirks, quickly clearing off one side of the table before lifting Dean onto it and settling between his legs. “Oh, I can think of a few ways.”

[lightthewaybackhome]

Sorry this is so long. Probably should have done a 2 parter.

"My darling girl, when are you going to realize that being normal is not necessarily a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage!" - Aunt Frances, Practical Magic

 

My whole life, as far back as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be artistic. I’ve wanted to create. I love beauty. I love artistry. I love creation. I love the artsy look: jewelry, tattoos, flowing clothing, and funky hair. It is a personal aesthetic I keep returning to, especially as I get older. As a child, I tried so many different forms of art—painting, photography, drawing— but none of them seemed quite right. None of them got what was in my head out. All of them fell short until I started writing. Writing was a flame, a fire, a drug. Writing allowed me to express what was in my imagination. This is the first thing to understand.

Everyone is artistic and art is everywhere. I’ve believed this as long as I can remember. There are amazing artistic feats in our world: books, movies, video games, paintings, sculptures, and magnificent pieces of music. Yes, art can be very high and very special. But, art can also be found in charcuterie boards, homemade quilts, sourdough bread, cocktails, soup, and all ordinary things if we but look and see. Art can be high magic and art can be ordinary. This is the second thing to understand.

As I’ve embraced being a homemaker, a HearthKeeper, a woman where she’s meant to be, I came across the term domestic artist. As much as I didn’t like the book Eve in Exile by Rebekah Merkle, it gave me this. It gave me the term domestic artist. That stuck with me. It spoke to me because it captured both the first and the second thing. It captured the never-ceasing call to create which haunts me at all times, and it elevated and honored the ordinary in a sprinkling of fairy dust. It said, “Yes, you have to cook today. Three meals plus snacks and drinks. It’s your job, but, but, what if, what if instead of looking at it as some drudgery, some Cinderella enslavement, what if you looked at it as an opportunity to create beauty?”

Not every meal, every outfit, every moment of your day can be a work of art. Some days you just have to do what you have to do. Some days get upended in the opening credits with a broken washer or a sleepless child. Some days plans change. Life changes. One minute life looks like this, and then the next it’s on to something completely different. But, the beauty of being a domestic artist is that you can create art in any of these moments and in any setting. You can find art in any moment and in any setting.

See, the world tells us that homemaking, HearthKeeping, is boring. It tells us it’s pointless. A waste. You could be changing the world. Only dumb useless women keep their homes. And that’s because they’re either tied down by a dictator of a husband or the demands of children or the cultural trappings of their religion. Courage, dear heart. Courage! Homemaking is magic. Homemaking is flexible. Homemaking changes with the seasons and the woman. I, I am a bit bohemian, a bit rustic, a mixture of rugged and romantic. I grew up a tomboy, but have embraced being a woman in her home since I was a child. I love leather and lace. I love cottage-witch aesthetics. I love boots and long flowing things. I like deer heads, linen, skulls, and ruffles. I like feathers and dreamcatchers, but I also love to decorate with open space. I love pies and feeding my husband. But, look at this, one of my best friends is a classic. She loves clean lines, traditional and timeless pieces. She loves modern accents. She loves beachy highlights and hammocks. She’s not into farmhouse, rustic modern, or raw-edged wood. On any given Sunday, she’s in a pencil skirt, simple top, simple heels with her three daughters in matching dresses while I’m in distressed boyfriend jeans, a mullet-tucked top, and wearing my crow skull. We’re very different, but we’re both homemakers who love making our homes.

I have a woman in my life who quilts and that flows out into their decorating. So many of her things are beautifully hand sewn. If she wants it, she makes it. Another friend grew up in Africa and her home is filled with her love of that culture. One dear friend loves plants and grows amazing flowers that she uses to create Instagram-worth bouquets. Another woman isn’t super fluffy-feminine but she has an eye for remodeling and so is constantly making improvements on her home: flooring, painting, and more. My sisters, like me, both enjoy a minimalist approach to decorating and all three of us have a special place for coffee. Both my sisters’ homes are welcoming and peaceful even with kids running around like crazy.

That’s the point, the world tells women to band together, that we’re a sisterhood, that we should go out and change the world, abandoning our homes before we’re relegated to only kitchen and nursery work, but reality tells me that the most amazing women I know are busy in their homes. This is sisterhood. This is where we bloom. It is here that we have flexibility. For over five years, I’ve struggled with chronic health issues. Homemaking lets me decide each day what I can do and how I’m going to do it. Homemaking lets you change what you do for each season of life. Lots of littles? Keep it simple. Empty nest? Explore. Somewhere in between? Keep growing. Lots of energy? So many things you can expand into if you just refuse to believe the lie that homemaking is beneath you. Don’t be normal. Don’t believe that homemaking is a waste of time. Don’t buy into the lie that you are somehow being less than everyone else when you raise your children, love your husband, and create beauty. Have the courage to be strange. We were made for this! It suits us. This is an environment women thrive in.

When I got over my grammar inhibitions and started writing, I felt like my soul came alive. I felt like I’d finally found what I’d been searching for since I came into this world. It doesn’t matter whether I’m writing an epic story or writing about HearthKeeping or just word doodling, writing, words, stories just flow from me. Wonderfully, homemaking is like that for me, too. I want to read books, I want to learn, I want to talk about it, I want to do it. It’s not perfect. I don’t always feel glorious, but I do feel ‘right’ when I’m doing this. I feel like I’m where I belong. I feel like this is a place I can both rest in and grow in. I feel safe when I’m having a fatigue flare up and I feel excited when I think about all that I can do.

A real-life example: Sundays are long hard days. They’re days that generally spike my fatigue and my husband is worn out. They’re both the best and hardest day of the week. When we get home I make a cocktail and we crash. Inevitably, the minute I sit down my man asks for a snack and what we’re having for dinner. For several years, this drove me up a wall. It is Sunday. The day of REST, why is it my responsibility to always make food? Epic sigh. Epic whiny sigh. I would meal plan for the whole week and then wing it on Sunday and Monday, always with poor results and grumpiness on my part. Then, one week as I meal-planned, I realized that I could also prepare for the weekend. Lightbulb. Facepalm. Really? Why had it taken me into my 40th year of life to realize that if I want a quiet, restful, happy weekend, I should just plan snacks, drinks, and meals ahead of time? I’m going to blame it on my chronic health, brain fog addled mind. I’m going to blame it on laziness. I’m going to blame it on being a young homemaker. Some are understandable, some are inexcusable.

Sundays now involve way less stress because I can immediately prepare snacks and know what we’re eating the minute we get home. No more attitude issue. No more stress. Easy and nice.

Did this change the world? Does this matter to anyone but myself? Did my husband even notice? Maybe not, but this is homemaking. This is HearthKeeping. It is my job and my calling. Even without notice or world-shattering consequences, I’m pleased with the outcome. More than pleased, I’m really happy about it. It brings me joy and delight to find a better way to take care of my family. It allows me to sprinkle my Sunday afternoon with just a little bit of artistry. I make drinks, snacks, dinner. I feed my family.

See, one of the lies that the feminists preach is that we’re wasted in our homes. And yet, the majority of the women I know who work outside the home aren’t doing glamorous jobs. They’re not travel bloggers or world-renowned chiefs or CEOs. They’re cosmetologists, retail workers, bank tellers, nurses, teachers, and such. Now, none of those are bad. Working outside the home isn’t bad. (I think each family has to decide what family looks like to them.) Please, please, don’t read that as degrading. I worked retail and I think retail is important. These are all God-honoring employment in which you can strive and serve. I’m not bashing any of those jobs. I have many many dear friends who work outside the home. What I am saying is that I think we as women need to ask ourselves if leaving our homes en masse was worth it. Has it given us all the joy, delight, and fulfillment the feminists promised us?

I’ve done both. I’ve been a co-owner of a business that I helped grow from nothing to something amazing. I’ve worked as an everyday retail worker. I write and am the main editor for a small neighborhood magazine. And I’m a HearthKeeper. I will tell you right now, no qualifications, that HearthKeeping is the most satisfying job I’ve ever had. It not only challenges me every day but it also works with me. The boundaries are what I set in place and so I grow as I can. The work never ends, yes, but it also never ends. There is always something else to explore.

I think being a homemaker is largely attitude. You can buck against what you do, and most women do. Just spend two minutes on Pinterest looking at doing laundry or dishes and the bitter hatred comes pouring out. Look at the complaints women make against their churches: we’re relegated to doing nursery work and kitchen duty. What if, just for a moment, we decided to be Domestic Artists? What if, for just a moment, we tried loving our jobs instead of complaining? What if we thought that dishes meant food and good times and healing of the souls around us? What if we saw laundry as a way to keep beauty and cleanliness around us? What if we saw it as our privilege and delight to take care of the food, children, clothing, cleaning, cooking, gardening, growing of the next generation, and the men of the world? What if we embraced the domestic arts and saw them as truly magnificent, glorious, unique arts? How many of us would be able to say with a straight face that working retail is more fulfilling than managing a small world? Is it more fulfilling to go work in an office than it is to orchestrate a place of welcome, rest, and renewal for your husband and yourself? It might be more visible, but is it truly more long-lasting?

I can say that it isn’t. I can say that I think being a homemaker is uniquely suited for women and that we should have the courage to go against the grain of our world and say no. No, I’m not going to give all of myself to work outside the home when the home is far more challenging and interesting. No, I’m not going to believe the lie that homemaking is oppression and boredom. I will find beauty in the ordinary and I will embrace art in the everyday. This is one of those amazing jobs where it is what you make it. It is what you pour into it. If you think it’s boring or demeaning you won’t get anything out of it. If you think it is challenging and rewarding, you will get the world out of it. You will grow yourself and those around you. Think about what a wonderful thing it would be if we made our homes our careers! If we women really took on the label Domestic Artist in our own individual ways.