#don't mind me just crying my eyes out on this sunday morning | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bamboozledbird · 3 months ago

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𝕚𝕗 𝕚 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 pt.2 // stiles stilinski imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin Pairing(s): Stiles x you, Theo x you (no use of y/n) Word Count: 5.3k Tags: a fix-it for y'all bc i'm a pushover Warnings: Underage drinking (at least in america rip, they're all 19+), creepy guys in bars, emetophobia, new jersey slander (please forgive me jerseyans)

Request: for all you people i made cry with part 1. this is my love letter to you. A/N: you don't necessarily need to read part 1 to understand, but this is a follow-up to if i could lose you i would.

The night starts well enough. Theo’s hand is a warm, steadying weight against your lower back, and his cologne cuts through the vague funky smell clouding the bar. Lydia chose it; somehow, no matter the city, she always knows about the coolest, underground spots that seem to only circulate within an elite circle of twentysomethings. It really isn’t all that shocking when you think about it as you nurse your bitter cocktail; every single person who catches a glimpse of Lydia immediately craves her attention. Unfortunately for them, Lydia always takes you as her date, though lately she’s been ending your nights out at a stranger's apartment more often than not. She’s never said it, but you know it’s because, ever since the disastrous end to her start-of-summer bash, Theo's made himself a permanent third-wheel on girls’ night. He’s never said it, but you know he started tagging along because you’ve been distant since Stiles poured into your bedroom and pressed on all the bruises his fingertips left behind when he left you. You really thought you’d washed them all away with 3,000 miles, 3 months, and 3 weeks of the scrape of Theo’s teeth.

You sip on your fourth drink of the evening, sitting on a barstool because your legs are too wobbly to stand on, and Theo watches you watch Lydia spin a girl with a radiant smile and glitter tinsel in her hair.

“You wanna dance?” he hums in your ear. You can barely hear him over the bass and the buzz of too much tequila.

You nibble on your straw and hiccup around it, “Don’t think I can.”

Theo makes a move to grab the drink in your hand, and you bend backwards to keep it out of his reach. “Come on,” he frowns, “you can’t even stand.”

“So?” you purse your lips petulantly and punctuate your point with a loud suck, draining the last few drops of your lime margarita through a few chunks of leftover ice.

Theo looks tired as he studies your face. “What the hell is going on with you? I see you every day, and I still don’t have a fucking clue.”

You’re too drunk to pretend you don’t know what he’s talking about. Hiccupping again, your nose scrunches, “I’m just…I wanna go home.” Theo pats his jacket pockets for his keys, and you shake your head a few too many times. “No, not there.” Your stomach turns when you finally realize what you actually mean. You want to hitch a ride on the melting ice in your glass and dissolve into knotted hair on Sunday mornings, freckled skin washed with the shifting sun, and pouted pink lips, cursing the snooze button and your cold toes. You don’t say that. You’re drunk, not cruel. “I wanna go back to Stanford. I hate it here.”

Theo’s eyes are shadowed in the dim light of the club, but they’re calculating. “You really think that’s far enough?”

Blinking slowly, your mind spins with the drinks in your stomach as you try and fail to think of something clever. “Feels far,” you mumble, and Theo doesn’t look reassured. It’s hard for you to differentiate pain from anger through watery eyes and the brume of tequila, but whatever emotion is darkening Theo’s expression, you think it’s justified. He’s smart enough to know what you mean.

His face goes blank as he searches for his keys again, “I think that’s enough fun for tonight.”

You shake your head and wriggle down further into the cradle of your hips, “I wanna stay.”

Theo exhales through his nose and runs a hand over his face, “I thought you wanted to go home.”

Your tongue is thick as you struggle for words, sniffling as they tease you from the fraying edges of consciousness. “Not there.” You know you sound like a baby, recycling the handful of words you can remember, and you know that tears will only make it worse, but they still bubble along your lash line.

“Stay at Lydia’s then,” Theo spits out through gritted teeth, but he shoves a napkin towards you to mop up your running mascara, so you forgive him. It’s your fault, after all. At least, you think so as you watch him leave.

“Boyfriend troubles?” Your head lulls to the side as you blink dumbly, all big-eyed and glassy, at the stranger leaning against the bar beside you. He’s tall, well-built too, but you’re mostly focused on his pungent cologne. It’s hard not to; you’re suffocating in it.

The man laughs and grabs your chin, shaking your head a little, “You’re adorable. How could anyone stay mad at you?”

You recoil, wrenching your face from his sweaty grasp, and run your tongue over your teeth. “He’s not…” your protest gets lost in your throat when he steps into your space and slides his hand along your spine, just shy of your ass. Your dress is backless, completely exposed to his wandering gaze, and your skin crawls with the sensation of his fingertips grazing your back.

His breath is hot and wet on the shell of your ear, “You want to forget about it for a while, angel?”

“No,” your head jerks from side to side, eyes screwed shut, “I don’t—I think I’m gonna puke.”

A wave of relief rolls over you when a red-taloned hand slithers between your bodies. Lydia shoves the stranger’s chest sharply, sending him stumbling into the stool behind him, and his hand falls from your hip.

“Does it look like she wants to contract something from a limp-dicked lowlife in tacky shoes?” The top of Lydia’s head barely reaches his shoulder, but her eyes are sharp and her sneer is venomous. The creep has the good sense to look a little afraid. “You have exactly two seconds to get the hell out of here before I personally ensure you’re on every public sex offender registry from here to Quebec.”

She grabs your hand before he has the chance to disagree and pulls you into the bathroom. In comparison to the loud, muggy dancefloor, it’s a wonderful reprieve: an oasis of cold air and muffled bass.

Lydia fusses over you for a minute; you wave off her concerns and push yourself onto the sink even though your arms feel distinctly gelatinous. You can tell she doesn’t believe you, but men preying on drunk women is a tragically large and present underbelly of girl world, so after a moment she turns her intense focus to the lighted mirror. She looks perfect—she always looks perfect—but she won’t believe anyone except her own reflection.

The aching strain in your arches slowly dissipates to a faint tingle the longer your feet dangle from the counter, your heels discarded below. They’re black strappy things from the back of Lydia’s closet, and so is the scrap of black silk that Prada has the audacity to call a dress. You are grateful, however, for the short hem and open back now that your skin finally has the chance to breathe.

You watch Lydia apply her lipstick with a precision brain surgeons could only dream of, smiling lazily. She’s graceful with the slender brush, like Botticelli stroking a swathe of red silk over a canvas of smooth skin. You envy her, with your eyeshadow already melting below your waterline, but mostly you love her. So proud to have such a goddess for a best friend.

Her head tilts as she smiles at you, and she must be at least a little godly because she doesn’t smear her lipstick when her mouth curves. “What?” she hums around her puckered lips.

“Nothing,” your words slur together, “you’re just perfect.”

She tucks her lipstick into her clutch and shakes her head, “And you’re so drunk. Lethal, babe.”

“I love it,” you sigh as she starts fixing your hair, clicking her tongue when you start to fidget. You slump into her careful touch and watch her fingers smooth through a few knots near your ends. “Being drunk is my favorite.”

She twirls her finger, indicating you should turn around, and begins twisting your flattened curls into an elegant bun. “I’ve noticed,” she mutters through the bobby pin clutched between her teeth, “you’ve been drinking more than you’ve sober lately.”

“It’s summer!” You blow a curl off of your nose and close your teary eyes so that your mascara doesn’t flake onto your cheeks, “You’re supposed to be drunk.”

Lydia hums and pulls a few strands of hair loose to artfully frame your face. “I didn’t realize alcoholism was seasonal.”

“You,” you bop her nose and giggle when it scrunches under your finger, “are being a major buzzkill. Don’t kill my buzz; that’s murder in the first.”

“Someone has to be.” Lydia leans her hip against the sink, and her brows curve, “Where’s Theo? I thought he was your DD tonight?”

You let the intoxication sweep over your senses because it’s easy and knock your ankles together like a child on the swings. “He left,” you chirp.

“He what?”

Your bottom lip juts out a little, “I think I hurt his feelings.”

Lydia is incensed. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and mutters a few choice words under her breath, “I’m going to hurt a lot more than that when I find him.” You curl in on yourself a little, and she sighs, unwinding her fingers from tight fists as her eyes soften. “He really left you here?” she asks quietly.

You shrug, refusing to feel sorry for yourself, and make grabby hands at her sleeves, “It’s okay. You’re here, and you’re my best friend, and I love you.”

She laces your fingers together and squeezes your hand, “It is not okay. That creep had you halfway to his car.”

You shudder at memory, and feel the ghost of the stranger’s clammy hand against your lower back, “But you rescued me. So it’s okay.”

You frown at Lydia’s frown and push her cheeks together, squishing her mouth into a crinkled half-smile. She rolls her eyes a little and takes your wrists in her hands gently, “He shouldn’t have left you. It was a shitty thing to do, babe.”

“I made him sad, I think.” You hiccup a little, “I think I always do.”

“He can’t leave you blackout drunk in a skeezy bar just because you’re in love with someone else,” she huffs.

You tease the tip of your tongue through your front teeth, swinging your legs back and forth below the sink, “It wasn’t skeezy when you picked it.”

Lydia huffs again and folds her arms over her chest, “That was before I saw tall, dark, and creepy try to take you home.”

Your playful grin crumbles as your drunk-numb mind finally catches up with the burning behind your ribs. “I’m in love with someone else,” you say, voice sticky and thick in your throat.

She lets out a sigh so soft you wonder if you just imagined it and takes both of your hands, “I know.”

Whimpering quietly, you turn your nose into your shoulder, slightly embarrassed by the sound. “I’m sad about it.”

“I know,” Lydia combs a few strands of your hair off of your tear-tacky face and smiles a little, “let’s get you home, okay?”

Another round of nausea hits you as you finally realize that you’re truly, really, horrifically drunk, and you still can’t forget him.

“I don’t think I know where that is anymore.”

Lydia was able to corral you into an Uber after you puked a few times. She held your hair back and helped you brush your teeth. You cried a little when she wiped the sweat off of your face with a makeup wipe, watching her take care of you with big wet eyes, as she tucked you into bed like the baby tequila and heartbreak had turned you into. She made you promise to call her in the morning, and then she left you to sleep off the ache in your throat and the six margaritas in your bloodstream—or was it seven, you can’t remember.

You can’t remember much, it seems. You scroll through your feed for a while and squint at the blurry splotches of color, trying to recall if you were good enough friends with the girl from software systems to leave a comment on her post about how hot she looks in red. Your fingers drift, swiping away from Instagram to the only thing you remember. The thing you’ll always remember.

The phone rings exactly two times.

“Hi.” It’s the only thing you can think of besides, ‘I love you. I love you. I love you. Please make it stop.’

“Hey.” You listen to Stiles breathe on the other side of the line and snuggle further into your pillow. “You there?”

His voice is soft in your ear, and your eyes go lidded, “Uh huh.”

He clears his throat, “What are you doing up this late?”

You twist around your sheets, and the tip of your tongue pokes out at your phone. Apparently, you’ve also forgotten that he can’t see you. “What are you doing up this late?”

“It’s uh,” Stiles pauses and there’s a rustling sound on his side of the line, “almost 8 here.”

You blink and frown at the time on your screen, “Nuh uh.”

There’s a pause; you hate it. You want him to keep talking until you fall asleep. He finally sighs, “Are you drunk?”

Your tongue pokes out again, “I’m not the one who can’t tell time.”

“Baby,” your heart skips and your breath hitches, and he must be tired because he doesn’t seem to notice the slip, “we’re in different time zones.”

Your heart stumbles over the skip this time, and it feels a lot like flatlining. “You went back already?”

“I, uh,” he shifts, must be in his desk chair because you can hear something rolling, “my lease started. Figured if I’m paying to live in Philly, I should actually, y’know, live in Philly.”

“Oh.” One little syllable, and it’s heavy with so many things you can’t bring yourself to dwell on it.

“Yeah.”

“So, uh,” you hear him scratch at something, most likely the back of his neck because he sounds anxious, “why’d you call?” He’s quick to correct himself, words overlapping like ripples in a creek, “Not that I’m not glad you called; I’m stoked you called—or maybe something a little less embarrassing—but I, uh,” there’s that scratching sound again and a quiet thudding of drumming fingers, “I really didn’t think you would.”

“Dunno,” there’s a smile in your voice, but you aren’t sure if he can hear it through the wobble, “just started dialin’, n’ I ended up here.”

He stands, and the phone shifts against his cheek as he starts to pace, “Where are you?” He sounds worried. You frown—you don’t want him to worry. You want him to hold you.

“Home,” you pause, nose wrinkling because that’s not quite right, and then add, “my house.”

“Did you drink anything?”

“Clearly.”

You can hear the eye roll from the other side of the country when he huffs into the phone, “I meant water. Did you drink any water?”

“Uh,” you nibble on your lip, “yes?”

He huffs again, but this time you can tell he’s smiling, “Get up and get some water—Advil too. Put it on top of whatever book you’re reading so it doesn’t get lost in your pile of shitty chapsticks and hair thingies.”

Your eyes cross, affronted, “They are not shitty.”

“They’re an endless cycle of chapped hell.”

“But they taste good,” you grumble, cuddling your pillow to your chest.

He’s smirking; you know it. “Oh, I know.”

You both just breathe through the line for a long moment, remembering the same slick slide of lips and tongues.

“I miss you,” you whisper.

Stiles inhales sharply, “I miss you too.”

“No,” you shake your head, smearing mascara on your pillowcase, “I miss you.” Your mouth is dry, and you can’t find the right words to explain it, how he’s apart from you even when he’s standing right there. There just aren’t enough words in the English language to explain the ache in the marrow of your ribs, how he still lingers inside your skin like some kind of fucked-up, agonizing osmosis, how you love him so tortuously, so effortlessly. Indefinitely.

You can’t explain, but when he whispers, “Yeah, me too,” you know he knows.

You sniffle and hiccup a few times, and a sigh crackles through your speaker. “Drink some water for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. You roll onto your stomach and sit up a little on your elbows, “Will you stay?”

“Yeah, baby,” his chair squeaks as he sits back down, “‘till you fall asleep.”

“Promise?” Your voice is thick, like you’ve been crying for hours, and Stiles’s voice is tight when he finally replies.

“Promise.”

You wake up with dry eyes and a rank taste in your mouth. There’s a glass of water and a handful of Advil on your nightstand, and you just know. You’ve known for a while actually, maybe forever, but you can’t pretend you don’t anymore.

Theo seems to know why you invited him over so early on a Sunday morning. He doesn’t even look sad when you officially end it, and you wonder if it’s because he knew it was over a long time ago. You wish, selfishly, that he would’ve let you in on the secret so that you could’ve avoided all this. You hug him before he leaves, and it’s stiff and awkward, and you feel a little shitty about the whole thing—but it doesn’t feel wrong.

You feel like yourself for the first time in a long time, and that feels good.

Summer is almost over, and you don’t have the time to obsess over all your wanting. All the air leaves your body sometimes, no room for anything but honey, veins, and new stubble, but you have so much to do. There’s no time for drowning in it when you’ve only got a few weeks before the semester starts.

You don’t even have the time to acknowledge the nerves wriggling up your esophagus until you’re standing in front of a black door. Your screen is lit with the address Scott texted you, along with roughly 100 exclamation points and a dozen or so brain explosion, party popper, and happy face emojis. They steady you as you knock on the splintering door. The unit is cute and quaint, and you distract yourself by getting a better look at the sage green columns.

Stiles opens the door, looking disarmingly soft in his worn sweatpants and stretched-out t-shirt—like cuddling on the weekend, like playing video games until sunrise, like home. He blinks at you slowly, pretty pink mouth slightly ajar.

You shift on the soles of your sneakers, jamming your hands into your hoodie pockets. “Hey.”

He blinks some more and seems to be only capable of repeating what he hears, “Hey.”

“So,” you dig the toe of your shoe into the porch, staring at a warped patch, curved from seasons of melting snow, and shrug, “I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d drop by.”

He recovers from his stupor and leans against the doorframe, hands tucked under his armpits. “You were in the neighborhood,” his head tilts with his arched brow, “in Philadelphia.”

“Well,” you try not not to smile, “it was on my way.”

Nodding, Stiles rubs his chin and purses his lips. You want to kiss the smirk off of his stupid face. “Right, the classic eastbound Stanford route.”

“Not quite.” You adjust the strap of your duffle bag on your shoulder, easing some of the ache pinching at the base of your skull, “New transfer orientation is on Monday. Turns out Princeton’s comp sci department is decent.”

His face becomes guarded, but there’s a little something like hope behind the uncertainty, “4th in the country.”

Something warm inside your stomach flutters. He knows. Of course, he knows. He probably researched it all the way back in high school. You brush your hair out of your eyes and hum, “Mhm.”

Stiles slides his socked foot back and forth, slipping on the polished floor of his cozy entryway. He barely catches himself on the doorknob. You laugh until he says, “Stanford’s 2nd.”

Your shoulder lifts, “That's correct.”

His chin dips as he searches your face for something. You smile at him, and he swallows; it looks painful. “You turned down MIT because it was too far from home.”

“That's also correct,” you say quietly with a jerky nod.

His eyes go wide as he shakes his head, almost violently. He almost slips again with the dramatic effort, “MIT’s 1st in comp-sci.”

You steady him with a palm against his chest, swiping your thumb over his ribs. His heart thrashes under your touch, and your face lifts with a timid, tender smile. “Sure, but Princeton’s ranked #1 nationally. Overall champs, baby. Suck it.”

Stiles finally smiles, but it’s hesitant. “You don’t say.”

You let a breathy exhale and drop your hands to your sides, curling and uncurling your fingers into tight fists. He’s still looking at you, a cute little wrinkle in-between his brows, waiting for something more. Fair enough. He kind of laid it all out on the line the last time you spoke in-person—he kind of deserves to stew a little after everything he put you through, but you’ve forgiven him, decided you want to be happy more than you want to punish him.

You roll your shoulders back and tilt your chin to meet his gaze. “I don’t believe in soulmates.”

Stiles’s face goes sour, and he crosses his arms firmly over his chest, mouth twitching between a pout and a frown. “You stopped in Philly just to tell me tha—”

You rock onto your tiptoes to press a finger to his lips, biting back a smile when they pucker like a fish, and say, “Will you kindly shut it for a minute? I need to get through this. I practiced a lot on the plane.” His eyes narrow, sullen and irritated, but he keeps his lips pressed together, waiting impatiently for you to finish.

You slip your finger from his mouth to cup his jaw, thumbing just below his cheekbone, and his body goes lax, irritation slowly seeping from his lanky limbs to the floor. Grinning, you poke the tip of your tongue at him, and he swallows hard as he tracks the movement.

“As I was saying,” you smile through the snark and slide your hands to his chest, resting against the vibration of his thudding heart, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I don’t think there’s just one person out there for everyone—but that’s a good thing, right? I mean, the entire concept of a soulmate is basically just a blackhole. You’re falling, and falling, and falling—and there’s no end; you’re just trapped. There's no choice. I don’t want to love like that—I don’t want to love you like that.”

It’s cute, the way his face screws up around a theory. It’s a familiar expression, and you can’t help but melt at the knees while you watch his eyes flick back and forth, adding up all your expressions and trying to calculate the meaning. The corner of your mouth pulls into a slip of a smile, “If I turned around right now and never saw you again, I’d be okay. I mean, I wouldn’t drop dead or anything.”

He sucks in sharply, head jerking back, “What the fu—”

“Hush, I’m almost done.” You keep going before he can interrupt you again, rushing through the rest of your speech, running out of air and restraint, “I think that I could get over you, eventually, years and years from now—but the point is—what I realized is: I don’t want to. I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want to find someone else. Stiles, I love you—I’m in love with you, and I really think tha—”

His lips are wet and warm against yours, and you whine softly into his mouth at the familiarity. He hooks his thumbs in the belt loops on your jeans and yanks you closer, until your chests are pressed together and you can feel him breathe. You were right—the beard burn is delectable.

The kiss slows into something less desperate, something more like forever, and Stiles brushes his lips over yours in a few chaste pecks. When your lashes finally flutter open, you see that he’s grinning at you. It’s so wide, so happy, and his eyes crinkle at the corners as he says, “Sorry, you just would not shut up, so I figured it was either kiss you or shove something in your big mouth—and I’m not super confident in my CPR skills. Scott and I really spent most of the time figuring out how many pencils we could fit into the dummy’s mouth.”

“I take it back.” You push his face away from you, but a laugh bubbles past your swollen lips when Stiles pinches your waist. “I hate you.”

“Nope. No refunds.” Stiles shakes his head solemnly and wraps his hand around your hip, squeezing possessively, “You kiss it, you buy it. That’s what Coach said about the dummy.”

“Well,” your arms find their way around his neck, and your fingers wind into the soft hair curling behind his ears, “you are a dummy.”

“The dumbest,” he agrees. He’s smiling, but his eyes are sincere, cloudy with guilt. “Baby, I never should’ve—”

You take great satisfaction in your turn shutting him up with a kiss, tugging on his hair until you’re on your tiptoes and he’s groaning into your mouth. “I think we’ve been miserable for a long time,” you whisper, breath ghosting across his shiny lips. He shivers, and you press your temple against his forehead, “I think I’ve had enough of it. How ‘bout you?”

Stiles nods quickly and dips in to kiss you again. “Can I say sorry one more time?” he mumbles, kissing the ridge of your ear.

“I suppose,” you sigh and fall back onto your heels.

He takes your bag from your shoulder and guides you into his apartment, kicking the door shut so that he doesn’t have to let go of your hand. There’s a thud as he drops the duffle bag onto the floor, and you barely have the time to take-in the ratty little sofa and coffee table piled with empty pizza boxes before he’s on you again. “I’m,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, and it twitches with the contact, “so,” his lips trail to your cheek, “very,” he presses a kiss to your temple, “truly,” to your hairline, “forever-ly,” to the tip of your nose, “sorry,” to your mouth.

You sigh as he settles in for a real kiss and fall back onto the couch with him on top of you, disrupting his rhythm with a breathy giggle. He braces his weight onto his arms, and you wriggle down until your face is directly below his. “Hi,” you trace his bottom lip with your finger, smiling when he purses his lips to kiss it.

“Hey.” He looks drunk: cheeks flushed, eyes hazy with pleasure, body loose and free from critical thinking—and you think to yourself that you’d do just about anything to make sure he’s this happy for the rest of his life.

Stiles rolls, bringing you into his side with an arm around your waist, and presses against your lower back until you're crushed against him. Still, you squirm closer. Neither of you say anything for a long time, content with the sound of each other’s breathing, and then Stiles hums in his throat a little and plays with the ends of your hair, “So. You’re gonna live in New Jersey.”

“Yup,” your mouth pops with the ‘p.’

He grins, “Wow. You must, like, really love me or something.”

“Or something,” you tease, and he bites your shoulder in retaliation.

“Jersey isn’t so bad,” his voice is muffled against his teeth, still embedded in your sweatshirt. Well, his technically.

You laugh, “It’s not?”

“Nah,” Stiles pulls back to look at you and scratches at the back of his neck, lifting a shoulder, ��wouldn’t mind living there for the…beaches.”

“The Shore, you mean?” you grin, trying to imagine Stiles with a bad spray tan and slicked back hair.

He grins right back and strokes your cheek, “Yeah, I’d move there for the Shore. I’ve actually been searching for just the right opportunity to show off my scrawny arms and pasty complexion. It’s like, what, a 40 minute drive from there to Penn?”

“Trenton would be around that, but I was thinking Pennypack would only be 30 from Princeton.” Stiles looks at you through lidded eyes, suspicious. You grin, “For the cheesesteaks, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he quips, but you can tell his heart isn’t in it. His face turns serious as he whispers, “You don’t have to do this,” into the quiet air humming between you. “I would’ve transferred to a school in California if I knew you still wanted me.” A flash of something ignites behind his eyes, warming the amber to whiskey, and he sits up a little, reaching over your head for his phone, “I’ll do it right now.”

You clutch his wrist and shake your head, pulling on his arm until he’s close enough to feel your lashes brush against his skin, “That’s why I didn’t ask. You’ve been dreaming about this program your entire life.”

Stiles is unusually still as he stares you down. His incisor digs into his bottom lip with a cruel bite, “What about your dreams?”

You huff, “What part of #1 don’t you get? I literally just told you to suck it. In case you forgot, I cordially invite you to suck it again, #6.” He smiles, but his eyes remain unconvinced. Your face softens, all the muscles and cartilage going gooey with affection, “It was never about Stanford, Stiles. It was about home. Guess it took you going away to figure out home sucks without you. S'not really home at all, actually.”

His lashes flutter slowly as he blinks, shaking his head, tongue running over his teeth as he struggles for air and words in equal measure. You kiss him until he finds them. “I know you don’t believe in it,” Stiles breathes out, “but I don’t think I could survive you being gone. Not again.”

You stroke over the planes of his face and hum thoughtfully, “I believe you wouldn’t want to.” Your shoulder twitches with a quick shrug as you add, “I know I don’t.”

His mouth chases your fingertips, pressing kisses to them every so often, and he closes his eyes heavily—like he hasn’t slept in months, maybe since the night he broke up with you. “These last few months have been just the fuckin’ worst,” he finally manages a smirk after you kiss his nose in agreement, “like a fuckzillion times worse than the summer I broke my leg, and you and Scott signed up for rec soccer without me.”

“You’ve got to let that go,” your voice is high and whiny, and Stiles’s smirk widens, “we didn’t even win any games.” You tickle him, heart leaping into your throat when he laughs and squirms away from your relentless fingers, “Didn’t have our good luck charm with us, obviously.”

“Obviously,” his grin is smug with satisfaction. Stiles tangles your legs together, legs clunking clumsily but that’s just part of the delicious charm, and hooks his chin over your shoulder, “So, Pennypack, huh.”

You nod, “I really don’t want to live in Jersey.”

You can’t see him, but Stiles peers at you, a little dubious, a lot fond. “And it’s not just for me?”

You grin, caught, and shake your head firmly, “Absolutely not.”

“It’s for the cheesesteaks,” his brow arches, and he seems to finally understand when the room becomes a swathe your smile, of your bubbling laughter: He makes you as happy as you make him.

“Obviously.” You mean, I love you, I love you, I love you, and I never ever want to stop. Stiles hears it, of course he does, and he says it back, sealing it with a kiss, “Obviously.”

#stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski #dylan o'brien imagine #stiles stilinski x you #dylan o'brien x reader #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf

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clarisse0o · 4 months ago

Text

Camp Wiegman-Part 18

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

Masterlist

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Sunday, November 15; 1:00 PM - Park.

This morning, I woke up in the arms of Joan, who was still fast asleep. My head hurt so much that I was glad I hadn't been woken up by his cries. I quickly realized I had a hangover. I had to text Mapi to understand how I ended up in my bed without her. Usually, we go home together. She replied an hour later, telling me about my exploits from the previous night with Bronze. I felt guilty immediately. She's going to give me hell when I return to Manchester. I'm already mentally preparing myself, knowing she won't go easy on me. To change my mind, I suggested going to the park with Joan before I left. He jumped for joy. I told my mom, who didn’t even react. We're even more at odds than before. This atmosphere made me eat and leave for the park right after. Here I am, sitting on a bench watching Joan play with kids hIS age in the playground. I'm happy to give him one last good moment. He often looks at me to wave, and I happily wave back. I jump when I feel two hands rather roughly placed on my shoulders.

- BOO!

- Oh damn, Maria !

She bursts out laughing as she sits down next to me. I immediately relax, letting out a sigh of relief.

- You're crazy!

- I can't help it if you still get scared so easily, she giggles. I love scaring you every time!

I roll my eyes in amusement. And they call me a child. Bronze would change her mind if she knew Mapi.

- How are you feeling since yesterday? she asks seriously. Is your headache gone?

- Yeah, after three pills and a good cold shower, I say, making her laugh.

She may be my best friend, but she's the first to make fun of me. She's the type who would laugh before asking if I'm okay if I fell. She calms down, and I smile when she waves to Joan in the distance.

- Your flight is at three, right?

- Yeah, I sighed.

- Joan's going to miss you, you know.

- I know... He asked me if she could fit in my suitcase this morning. I laughed a lot.

- I bet, she chuckles. He could probably fit, too, I'm sure.

- Probably, yes.

I smile, watching my brother. I'm going to miss him so much if he only knew. If I could, I’d take him with me. I sincerely hope he'll stop misbehaving while I'm gone.

- Excited to go back?

- Not really, given what's waiting for me...

- That bad? she laughs.

- Bronze is really mad at me. She texted me this morning, telling me not to message her all day and that we'll talk face-to-face tonight.

- Ouch. She seemed nice when I talked to her yesterday.

She's not laughing this time. She must have understood that I'm not at my best. Bronze trusted me, and now I've let her down again. I always mess up. What was I thinking, calling her in the middle of a party? Even drunk, I should have known better.

- You like your supervisor a lot, huh?

- What makes you say that? I asked, intrigued.

- It's obvious. You're practically biting your nails with guilt, she smiles in amusement. You're singing a different tune than your first days when you called me crying, saying you hated her.

- Well, I was being rebellious in the beginning, I chuckled. We’ve moved past that. I realized she just wanted to help me.

- Yeah, but I don't know, I feel there's something more. Isn't there?

- You're probably right... Things have been different between us since my detox... I admitted.

- Different how?

- I don't know, I sighed, leaning back against the bench. It's just... different. She was nice, even though she didn't pity me.

- What aren’t you telling me? she raises an eyebrow.

She noticed I'm hesitating to continue. I look at her for a moment, biting my lip.

- I-I don't know... I had a low point after my detox, I finally confided. She was there, having spent a week taking care of me... I don't know what came over me, but I just broke down. I needed to tell her how I felt about everything that happened.

- And did you?

I nodded timidly. I feel guilty knowing it took me three months to confide in Mapi. It took me barely half that time to do it with Bronze, whom I barely know. In the end, I don't really know her. I don't know anything about her or her life. I still wonder why I feel the need to confide in her.

- Hey, I don't blame you if that's what's worrying you, she said, placing her hand on my knee. Maybe she's the one you need. Well, she corrected herself seeing my expression. I mean, if you feel comfortable with her, go for it. She only wants what's best for you; it's obvious. Just look at how she reacted last night and the blackmail she makes with you.

- They're deals, I corrected her. Deals that I agree to after negotiation... I know they're for my own good and effective. The thing is, she’s never judged me, never pitied me. Even when I was weak... She always treated me as if I were the same, and I feel heard.

- Can I ask you a question?

- Of course.

- Do you have a relationship with her?

- What? I exclaimed. Of course not! What makes you think that?

- Maybe the fact that you called her "baby" last night.

- I did what? I screamed.

Oh my God. I'm in even deeper trouble than I thought. Mapi can't help but burst out laughing at my distraught face. I start to wonder if she's playing a cruel joke on me. That idea quickly fades when she speaks again.

- OK, I guess you're not lying given your reaction. You're not dating her then, you promise? I wouldn't mind, you know!

- No! Are you crazy?! Never in a million years! I'd never even think of it! She'd probably punish me just for thinking that! Oh damn... I say, sinking into the bench. She's going to kill me...

- Why? It's not that dramatic. But if she does, I'd like to see it! It's not every day you see Ona Batlle being put in her place!

- Believe me, she's the first to manage it, I sighed. I'm in big trouble. I should never have gone to that party, I groaned, running my hand over my face. I told you it was a bad idea!

- Hey, don't blame me! It was just a party where you had fun, that's all. You didn’t mess up. I didn’t even have to refuse drugs; you did it yourself! Plus, you got at least three numbers.

- Hmm... It was a good party, but it's not worth it. You don't know my supervisor!

- Relax! I'm sure you'll handle the situation. She doesn't seem that bad. She was worried about you. Besides, she wasn't here to keep an eye on you. Maybe it made her anxious?

- That's exactly why she's going to yell at me! I promised her I wouldn’t do anything wrong.

- You didn't do anything wrong, she rolled her eyes. Well, how about we change the subject, huh? I can see this is killing you, she chuckled.

She's probably right. She doesn't give me a choice and starts talking about stories from last night and her girlfriend. As for me, I talk a lot about my new friends and the camp. Joan interrupts us, reminding me of the time. Saying goodbye to Mapi is painful. I miss her more than she lets on. It's going to be hard to hold on until the next holiday. I especially feel that Bronze will make it harder for me to go out. I'm already depressed just thinking about it. I have only myself to blame. I ponder all this on the way back. I barely have time to stop by the house before heading to the airport. Joan insisted on coming with me. I didn’t see any reason to refuse since Hector would be there. I know he'll take good care of him. When we're there, he enjoys helping me check in my bags. It's only when we head to the boarding gate that he starts to realize what's happening. Especially when the intercom announces the imminent departure of my flight.

- I don't want you to leave, he cries, tears streaming down his face. It was way too short.

- I'll be back soon, don’t worry.

- Next weekend?

- We'll see... I can't promise anything, I grimaced. Oh, I almost forgot.

He looks at me intently while I rummage through my backpack. I pull out a big brown teddy bear. His eyes light up. When I saw it in a shop window in Manchester, I immediately thought of him. I had to get it for him. I silently thank Bronze for making me go out last week. Without him, I wouldn't have been able to bring him anything.

- Is this for me?

- Of course, I handed it to him. So you can sleep with it and think of me every time you see it. It will remind you that I’m thinking of you and that I'm never far away.

- Thank youuu!

I barely have time to crouch to her level before his little arms wrap tightly around me. I smile, feeling the teddy bear between us. He clings tightly to it when we part.

- It smells like you!

- That's normal. It’s been in my stuff for a week, I chuckled.

The intercom brings me back to reality. I sigh in annoyance. The silver lining is that Joan's tears have stopped, replaced by a big smile.

- I'll be waiting patiently for you.

- You better! No more mischief, you promised me.

We pinky swear, and I kiss his forehead. I ruffle his hair while saying goodbye to Hector. I walk towards the flight attendants to hand them my ticket. I’m one of the last to board, so there isn't much of a line. I barely have time to settle in before the plane takes off a few minutes later. I put my headphones on and close my eyes, thinking about everything that happened this weekend. I’m dreading this return. I really don't feel good about it. I reach the point where I can hardly fall asleep.

Sunday, November 15; 6:10 PM - Manchester Airport.

The plane just landed. The flight attendant had to wake me up when it was time to fasten my seatbelt. I managed to sleep a little, thanks to my calming music. She joked that she might become my personal flight attendant if I keep flying like this. I get the feeling she likes me, and it's mutual. After all, we’re both young. She’s also very beautiful, exactly my type. Her blue eyes stand out perfectly with her dark hair. I smile at her and say we’ll see each other next time, which seems to please her. I grab my bag from under my seat and exit the plane. I take the initiative to turn off and put away my headphones. Bronze is picking me up, and I know she doesn't like seeing me with those things on my head. I hope she hasn't changed her mind. The last thing I need is for her to send a taxi because of what I did. If not, I'll have to face her right away, but at least it will be over. I'm relieved when I see her in the arrivals hall. It's the second time I’ve seen her in regular clothes. She’s wearing jeans, a sweater, and a jacket over it. I cringe when I see her arms crossed. It looks like she's not hiding her anger this time. I take a deep breath before walking over. I hold back a smile because I’m still happy to see her again.

- Hi, Bronze... I say timidly.

She only gives me a nod in response. I think I'm getting off easy. She could have completely ignored me. We collect my suitcase without saying a word. I don't dare force a conversation, so I wait patiently for her to speak. Maybe I would have preferred a taxi after all. We reach her car, and she opens the trunk for me. I put my suitcase in, and then we sit in the front. I said I would wait for her to start, but this silence is unbearable. I'd rather she let out her anger than ignore me.

- Bronze... I'm sorry for what I did.

- You're such a damn fool! she snaps.

I lower my head, staying silent. At least it’s clear. She's mad. Without warning, she suddenly swerves to the side of the road. Luckily, my seatbelt holds me back, or I would have gone through the windshield. She stops the car and turns sharply towards me.

- You're such an idiot, Ona, she yells without giving me a chance to respond. You just came out of detox, and here you are starting again! Was the first time not enough for you?! What will it take for you to understand how serious this is?!

- I'm fine! I shout back. Why are you overreacting so much?! You're not my mom, my girlfriend, or even just a friend as far as I know! Even my mom doesn't care where I spent my evening, so why do you care so much?!

- Do you even think? she scolds, raising her voice even more. You called me at three in the morning from Barcelona, completely wasted. Damn it, Ona! Can’t you imagine how worried I was for a single second?! You called me in a terrible state while I was stuck across the country, unable to do anything! I asked you one thing. Just one thing! Not to go to places like that, and you did it!

- No, I retort. You asked me not to touch illegal substances, which I didn't! Even while drunk, I refused everything!

- And you feel proud of that?! Just for what you told me, I should ban you from leaving the camp for a month! I was so wrong about you, she finishes, lowering her voice. I thought you were more responsible and mature, but I guess not.

I close my eyes to absorb those last words that sting. I've been called immature twice in two days. I jump when she vents her anger by hitting the steering wheel violently. I didn't think it would affect her so much. She's right. I'm just a reckless kid. I never should have worried her like that. Nothing would have happened if I hadn't had her number.

- I'm really sorry, Bronze... You're right, it was immature of me. Mapi convinced me to go to meet her girlfriend... I just had a few drinks, I promise. I never intended to worry you. I shouldn't have called you while partying. I found out this morning what I did from Mapi and immediately regretted it. I didn't want to disappoint you. Not you.

I don't dare look at her. I needed to get that off my chest. I nervously play with my fingers, waiting for her response. I'm afraid she'll hold this against me for a long time. I’d hate myself if I lose her trust. She sighs heavily, running a hand through her hair.

- Yes, you were immature, she agrees. I never thought you’d do something like this after the last time ended so badly. However, I also need to apologize. I shouldn't have overreacted like that. You're right; we're not that close, but I'm still your supervisor, and that doesn’t stop me from worrying about you.

- No, you don't have to apologize. It's my fault, and it’s your job to correct me... I appreciate you worrying about me like this. You're not mad at me anymore? I bite my lip.

- Oh, I'm still mad. If it were up to me, I'd keep you grounded all Monday to teach you a lesson. You're lucky I don’t have a valid reason to report to the administration.

I suppress a smile. I wasn't entirely wrong when I told Mapi I’d probably have to do extra laps. I finally dare to look at her for the first time since we got in the car. She's looking at me too. I’m sure she hasn't taken her eyes off me since the beginning.

- What can I do to make it up to you?

- What can you do? she repeats, raising an eyebrow. Stay away from parties for a start. As for the rest, we'll see, I'm thinking.

- You can't be serious? You're not really going to stop me from going out, are you?! I've never been grounded in my life!

- Well, there's a first time for everything.

- I'm twenty, Bronze! Parties are what people my age do! What do you think your other students do on weekends, huh?

- You're not like the other students, Ona. You’re my student, under my responsibility. Besides, you just came out of detox, and I'm sure you were around drugs all night.

Take that. I bite my lip to stop myself from confirming her suspicion. I deserve this. I think I’m getting off easy. I'm sure she was a hair’s breadth away from restricting my outings. The only thing holding her back is our deal.

- Am I wrong?

- Excuse me?

- Am I wrong? she repeats sternly.

- No, I whisper. But I didn't touch anything, I promise.

- I wonder how you managed to hold out in just two weeks. I want you to promise me something.

- Promise what?

- No more parties... Please.

- Fine, no more parties, I roll my eyes. You explain that to my best friend.

- No problem, I’ll tell her myself if I have to.

I raise an eyebrow. She really will do anything to get her way. Now I'm banned from partying. Even when she's thousands of miles away, she'll have an influence on me. Just thinking about it frustrates me, but I know she's doing it for my sake.

- Are you hungry?

- Are you asking me if I'm hungry?

- Let's go eat.

She doesn't have to ask me twice! She changes direction once we’re back on the road. She doesn't ask my opinion on where to go, but I trust her. In the end, I’m not doing too badly after this confrontation. She could have forbidden me from leaving Manchester if she wanted. The meal goes smoothly. We talk about our weekends without going into details. She just confirmed that she saw her ex to return her things and spent both evenings with friends. She asked me to detail mine, so I told her about my afternoons with Joan and my night out. I avoided talking about my mother, not wanting to go into details. Our little evening ends around nine o'clock. She dropped me off at the street corner near the camp so I could walk back alone, to avoid being seen arriving together. I wished her good night then.

I hurry back to the school, feeling the cold. I forgot how much warmer it was in Barcelona. I'm relieved when I reach the dormitory. The place is far from warm, yet I feel more at home here than in my own house. I must be abnormal. I take my time climbing the stairs now that I'm warm. I struggle a bit to carry my suitcase. It's always a hassle to get it up the stairs. I stop at the entrance of my room, thinking about what's about to happen, and it doesn't take long. As soon as I step inside, Alexia literally jumps on me. I lose my balance, unintentionally taking both of us down, narrowly avoiding my suitcase.

- You're crazy, I laugh.

- I missed you so much! I thought you’d never come back.

I giggle when she helps me get up. She helps me bring my things into the room. She is already in her pajamas. Then again, I didn't come back early tonight. I ask her how she is while I start putting my things away in the closet. If I don’t do it now, I never will, knowing myself.

“Did you have a good weekend?” she asks me.

“Great! Joan didn't want to let me go at the airport; it was almost painful... And you?”

“Yeah, awesome! I finally got to see my girlfriend”

I stop dead in my tracks. Girlfriend ? She’s never mentioned a girlfriend. I furrow my brows and slowly turn to face her. She bites her lip to stifle a smile.

“Your what? Since when do you have a girlfriend?”

“Uh... yeah, girlfriend.”

“Wait, wait... You talk to me all day long and you've never mentioned this?!”

“Sorry,” she chuckles, “but it’s a bit complicated...”

“Complicated?”

I furrow my brows again. She seems very nervous, but I don't see why she would be. It’s normal to have a girlfriend, right?

“I think you have the right to know now... First, I want to apologize for not telling you sooner, but I couldn’t... not until I knew if I could trust you.”

“Why? It’s not a state secret as far as I know.”

“Yes, it’s true. Sorry, but you'll understand if you let me talk.”

Just when I thought I was going to have a quiet evening after Bronze, I was wrong. I sigh as I put the sweater I had in my hands away. Since it seems to be an important subject, I prefer to sit comfortably on my bed to talk.

“Alright, go ahead. I’m all ears.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be? You have the right to keep things from me. You don't have to tell me now if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to. I trust you.”

I smile. It's a pleasure when someone tells you that. After all, we’ve known each other for a month and a half, and I've never betrayed any of her secrets so far.

“Go ahead then. I'm listening.”

“Well... First, it’s been two years since Alba and I have been here,” she begins, to which I nod. “I’m dating someone from the school... or rather someone who used to be here, but probably not in the way you think.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you remember the story you heard about an instructor and a student? The one you mentioned one night with Leah after your punishments?”

She already has my attention. I nod to show I remember.

“Both were expelled, right?”

“Not exactly...”

“What do you mean? Wait, don't tell me it was you?!”

Her silence says it all. I'm stunned. Alexia broke such a serious rule? What’s going on! This is impossible. She’s such a model student... Yet the fact that she bites her lip in front of me makes it clear that it might be true.

“Okay, assuming it was you... why are you still here then?”

“It’s quite simple,” she sighs. “They knew who the instructor was... but not the student. They just knew it was someone from this room, since... since she came here a lot during our breaks.”

“I don't even want to know what you did here.”

I grimace in disgust, making her laugh. Now I’m imagining her with a complete stranger whose face I don’t even know. I’m still waiting for more explanations.

“I had another roommate before you, Luna. A reckless one like you. She absolutely wanted to leave to live her life with her boyfriend, unlike me who had my sister and best friends here... So Luna got blamed instead to be able to leave. My girlfriend, on the other hand, couldn’t escape being expelled.”

“Wow... I didn’t expect that!”

“You’re not upset?”

“Why would I be upset? You do what you want,” I say with a smile. “Are you still with her then?”

“Well, I don't know. You never know, and yes, of course, we’re still together!”

“Didn’t Alba take it badly, the whole thing?”

“She doesn’t know... If she did, I’d be in big trouble,” she giggles.

I've noticed that Alba is very overprotective of her. I don’t even know how she puts up with it. I would have set her straight by now if I were in her place. I think she loves her too much to do that. She’s her sister, and she’s always taken care of her, after all.

“But how did you manage to see her if Alba doesn’t know?”

“I pretended to visit a friend to come back here.”

“I see. Well, tell me everything now while I finish putting my things away. What's her name?”

She smiles broadly. Her stress has subsided. She probably didn’t expect me to be this interested. I really like Alexia. I told her I was her friend, and now is the time to show it. I get up and continue to unpack my suitcase while she starts her monologue. I learn a few things, like her name. Her name is Jennifer. She’s tall, muscular, and tattooed. According to her, she’s the perfect girl. I almost want to call her Aphrodite given the way she describes and compliments her. I thought she was exaggerating until she showed me a photo of them. I realize she’s really handsome for her type, and the nickname I was thinking of giving her fits perfectly. She tells me about their beginnings, explaining that she was the one who made the first move by trying to get her attention in any way she could. She even flirted with her. She resisted for a long time before giving in to temptation. When she finishes, and so do I, I rush to take a shower quickly before curfew. Luckily for me, I manage to turn off the light a few minutes before ten.

“Thanks for not judging me, Ona.”

“I will never judge you Ale. Goodnight, Alexia.”

I turn over in bed to face away from her. I try to fall asleep, but my mind is too occupied with what she just told me. Luckily for me, fatigue gets the better of me.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #barca femeni #ona batlle #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze #mapi leon #alexia putellas #jenni hermoso

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bean-bean2000 · 6 months ago

Text

The Maid - Part 13

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, depression, mentions of suicide, despair, feeling trapped. Mentions of abuse.

Please read at your own risk. Your own media consumption is not my responsibility. Please read and review the warnings before proceeding.

Thank you and enjoy!

Part 12

Series masterlist Main Masterlist

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You wake to the most warming and nostalgic smell; your favourite breakfast your mother used to make for you every Sunday morning.

Puzzled, you throw the covers off of you, swinging your legs over your bed and get up to realize you're in your childhood room. You touch everything near you, fearing it might fade away, grabbing onto your old blanket, the one you used to clutch at night when you were scared or nervous. You hear your name being called and walk towards it, following the delicious smell.

As you turn the corner and walk into the kitchen you see your parents swaying along to a song they're humming together.

"Mom? Dad?" you whisper, tears brewing in your eyes.

"Honey, there you are! Why are you crying?" your mother approaches you, smiling as she wraps you in a warm hug.

"I - I just... miss you." you stutter.

"Miss me? I saw you only a few hours ago, my flower! Come and eat breakfast, I made your favourite." she beckons you over.

“No… Mom that’s not possible…. I - this isn’t real. Am I dead?” you ask her quietly, your voice comes out breathless as you try to grasp what’s going on.

“Nonesense! Are you ill? Come and eat.” she places her hand on your forehead to feel for a temperature and leads you to the table.

You sit down, unsure and confused.

This feels familiar. This day has already happened.

With your mom’s encouragement you take a bite, moaning in delight and reminiscing on the flavour. Your mom giggles at you as she watches you shove food in your mouth.

"You're acting so strange today... are you sure you're alright?" your father questions you, gently caressing your arm.

"Perhaps she just misses her love." your mother teases.

You freeze as she says this. "My - my love? Who do you mean, mother?" your mouth feels dry, hands sweaty, heart beating wildly at your mother's comment.

It can't be. They never met... him... I - It can't... how?

Suddenly there's a knock at the door. Your mother squeals in excitement as she pushes you to get up and answer it. As you begin to turn the handle, the door flings open, making you jump.

"There you are, my angel." The large and imposing man pulls you into a hug.

You freeze like a deer in headlights, mind spinning with confusion, fear and anger.

"How is this possible? it can't be! What - What are you doing here?! Get off of me! Let me go!" you scream as you struggle to get out of his grip.

"Angel, please. What has gotten into you?" he says, his grip tightening around your arm painfully.

The old nickname makes your skin crawl. You only fight him further and try to escape his grip on you.

"You're making a fool of yourself in front of your parents." He says through gritted teeth.

"No, please. Mom, Dad, tell him to let me go!" you cry out, begging them to help you.

Your eyes searching theirs, tears flowing down your cheeks.

"Mom? Dad?" you cry out for them again but they say nothing as they stare at you stoically.

"This is your punishment, angel. You deserve this, all of it." your mother sneers.

"What? - I don't understand" you continue to cry as you desperately try to break out of his hold, only causing it to tighten as he grabs a hold of both of your arms, pinning them behind you. He flips you around to face him, his eyes glaring with anger and cruelty.

"You cursed us all. They're dead because of you. Do't you get it? I am your punishment. I made you fall in love with me so I can use you and dispose of you like the piece of garbage that you are. Nothing but a tool for me to get what I want. " You violently push against his hold, desperately trying to pull yourself out of his grip as you sob, mind reeling with the nightmares of the past.

He laughs at you mockingly "You may have escaped me but you will never forget me. I will forever plague your mind. You will never know a peaceful sleep again. You may have gotten rid of me physically, but I will always be there, in your mind. You will never forget." he sneers at you, leaning in so your face is inches apart.

He grips your cheeks painfully and turns you to face your parents.

You gasp at the sight in front of you. A multitude of arms, red and black burnt flesh have sprung from the floor, clinging onto your parents and dragging them below as they scream in anguish. Every time an arm grabs a hold of them, their flesh burns and sizzles, forming scorched handprints on their body.

"How could you?!" your mother screams at you as she sinks further below, screeching in agony as more and more limbs attach to her body, burning her, dragging her below the surface.

"This is all your fault! You have damned us to hell!" Your father spits at you as he sinks to his knees in pain.

"We will never forgive you. We will haunt you for the rest of your life. He will see to it that you suffer for what you have done. You will never know happiness or peace again!" he bellows his final words as he is engulfed below the surface, leaving nothing but ashes and smoke on the floor.

You hear the man laugh maniacally behind you as he forced you to look at him again.

"This is where the fun begins, my angel." he pulls you closer and sniffs your hair, dragging his hand down your forehead to your lips, running his thumb over them, then holding your chin up.

You struggle against him, trying to push yourself away from him in disgust and fear but his strength is too much for you to handle.

"Stop - I would rather die than be with you again! You're a disgusting monster! I will fight you everyday of my life until my last breath. I will never yield to you again. I will escape every chance I get. I will not be your toy!" you scream at him.

"Oh, angel. I already told you. You will never escape me. I’ll be in your mind, torturing you slowly. You will never be able to move on. You can’t live without me." You feel him smack your face hard, sending you flying to the ground.

“I HAVE lived without you. Even as a damned servant in this palace, I have been treated better than I ever have with you. Even eating scraps and being beaten almost daily is NOTHING compared to you. I killed you once and I will do it again every time you try to plague my mind. You don’t control me anymore. You’re in MY mind, I control you.” You spit at him, getting up, flames blaring in your eyes.

“If I ever see you again, I will be your punishment, your hell. I suggest you get the fuck out of my mind before I obliterate you entirely. I’ve had enough. I escaped you, I killed you, and I will do it over and over again for eternity.”

At this point, you aren’t yelling or screaming. You’re eerily calm, staring him down, flames engulfing the room as your hands burn with fire.

He looks at you in fear and disbelief. You smirk at the sight of him. Finally he feels an ounce of the fear he made you endure all those years.

You laugh as you look at him “Run.”

As if he broke out of his trance, he immediately turns around and bolts out the room, and out of your mind.

You feel weak as you stumble to the floor, holding your head in your hands as everything turns black.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Loki paces by your bedside as he waits for the medics to finish their consultation of your state. Once they finish, they step away from you and clear their throats.

"Well? What is it?!" Loki demands.

Eir sighs "I haven't seen this in decades... this shouldn't be possible. Are you sure she is the source of the flames burning her room?"

"Yes, Eir! I have spoken to my mother about her.... condition.... but, this has never happened yet... what do I do?" he asks frantically.

"Well she has no external trauma... she is physically cleared... mentally, however...." Eir studies you worryingly.

Loki opens his mouth to continue the conversation when you suddenly start yelling "Get off of me! Let me go!". Eir and Loki share a concerned glance before approaching you.

"Hey, it's okay. It's just me." Loki coaxes.

"No, please. Mom, Dad, tell him to let me go!" you scream again, writhing around in the medical bed. Eir places magical restraints on you to keep you in place.

"What's happening Eir?" Loki feels his panic growing, as he begins to sweat.

Wait. Why am I sweating?... I don't sweat unless under extreme heat.

"Fuck, Eir! She's doing it again!" Loki turns to her as she begins to cough, falling to the ground, sweating profusely.

"Shit!" Loki exclaims. He pours all of his magic into the room, lowering the temperature drastically while attempting to heal Eir as much as he can.

"I can't contain it for long! It's too powerful! She's going to cause this whole place to explode!" Loki yells behind him as Eir jumps back up and starts flinging through the medicine cabinet and comes out with a large syringe, stabbing you in the arm with it.

You immediately fall limp, the temperature of the room returns to normal. The paper that was beginning to burn fizzes out and only smoke remains.

"We can't keep her here. She is too dangerous. We have to kill her." Eir states as she grabs a hold of another syringe.

"No! I command you to stop!" Loki bellows.

Eir looks at him in shock and confusion. Loki has never commanded her to do anything.

"I will take her away from here, where she and everyone else will be safe. Give me time. Tell nobody. This stays between us. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my king." Eir says, bowing her head in respect.

In a puff of green smoke, you and him disappear from the room without disclosing where he has taken you.

Eir breathes out a long deep breathe, shaking her head incredulously and starts cleaning up her workspace.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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#fanfic #marvel #angst #loki x reader #loki of asgard #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson x y/n #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki laufesyon x reader #loki laufeyson fanfiction

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brookediamonds · 1 year ago

Text

like snow on the beach | dalton lambert x reader

gif is not mine

Summary: You and Dalton are hanging out like you normally do when you find out he has a muse when he creates. Heartbroken it isn't you, you spend the night pondering the last few months and how this will affect your future, possibly without him.

Warnings: None, fluff, angst, mutual pinning, Fem! Reader

Word Count: 2K

Song Inspo: snow on the beach by taylor swift

Dalton Lambert x Fem! Reader

I sat on Dalton's bed reading a new romcom book I picked up earlier as he continued to finish his art project that was due tomorrow.

Music played softly in the background as we dwelled into our hobbies while still enjoying each other's silent presence.

"Done," The artist stood in front of his now finished canvas looking over the assignment. Glancing up from my page, I admire the work he spent the last few days on.

"Wow," I stare at the painting in awe. The colors are bright and fiery the whole thing was eye-catching. "I don't think I've ever seen you use colors like those."

"I normally don't use such loud colors but," he looked over at me a grin breaking out on his face before facing the painting again. "I've been inspired lately."

Part of me is beaming but the other part of me is dying on the inside because who was inspiring the boy I grew to have a crush on?

"Oh," I nod shutting my book closed. Scooting down to the edge of the bed, I watch as Dalton continues to look over his project double checking it was to his liking.

"What's been inspiring you lately?" I gain the courage to ask careful not to use 'who.'

"A girl," he answers nonchalantly, his back still facing me.

I felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach. The last few months replayed in my mind, the longing stares, playful banters, late night study sessions, Sunday sundae's in the student lounge, had it all been in my head?

Were we just two friends hanging out to him?

"Lucky her," I breathe out. Before he can say anything else, I slip on my grey slippers and begin to stand up.

"I just remembered I need to turn this assignment in for English, it's due at midnight," I stammer out.

"Do you wanna use my laptop?" Dalton asks motioning over to the computer on his desk.

"N-No!" I reassure him quickly. "I have it saved it specifically in a folder on my laptop."

"Oh, okay, are you gonna come back so we can watch 'Suits?" He grins referring to our usual hangout routine. Last month we binged Better Call Saul, this month it's Suits.

I stood by his door with my hand on the handle ready to flee.

"Actually I feel a migraine coming on," I pretend to wince, pressing my palm to my forehead. "So I'm just gonna head to bed after I submit my paper."

"Do you want me to get you some ice and bring it to your room?" The boy frowns taking a step closer to me knowing my go to remedy was an ice pack.

"No, I just want to be in a dark room," I say quietly avoiding his gaze. To cry my heart out.

"Okay, well text or call me if you need something alright?" He reassures me. "Just down the hall."

Which was true, he was four dorms down the hall from me

I nod ready to walk when he suddenly took ahold of my wrist spinning me around to pull me into his chest. We never leave each other without a hug.

This was the hardest part, being in his warm embrace. It was strong and comforting, the way I can hear his heartbeat against his chest, how perfectly my body molds into his.

All of me is screaming to get away and run before you break down right here but the way he sway from side to side with his cheek pressed to the top of my head, I stay taking in this moment that could be the last.

"Is this helping?" Dalton whispers unaware of his words.

"I wish," I mumbled. It's making it worse.

Pushing him away, I turn away opening the door rather quickly, and walking out prepared to spend the rest of my night sulking in my bed.

Waking up the next morning I feel the pounding in my head erupt due to the amount of crying I did last night.

It didn't help that I watched 'P.S. I Love You' but sometimes you just need that extra push to get out that good cry.

"Here," my roommate Izzy holds out two pills of Tylenol for me with a bottle of water.

"How'd you know?" I mumble, half my face still in my pillow.

"The trash is filled with tissues and it smells like popcorn in here," she teases me. I grab the pills from her hand, sitting up in my spot to take the medicine.

"I thought you were staying at Jaime's," I recall her saying she was supposed to spend the night at her girlfriend's room since her roommate was gone for the weekend.

"I did, I forgot my insulin," she walks over to her mini fridge to grab her small bag of her prescription. "Why were you crying last night?"

Swallowing down the two pills, I wiped my mouth to prevent the excess water from dripping down my chin.

"Sad movie," I respond lamely, laying back against my pillows.

Izzy stood up from her place, watching me with careful eyes.

"You only watch a sad movie when you're already sad," she points out. Damn, she knew that? "What happened?"

I sighed scooting further down into my bed, not wanting to bring up last night events. I was being dramatic, I shouldn't be this emotional over someone.

Dalton didn't mean to intentionally hurt my feelings, so how could I be upset?

"I got my hopes up, like always," I responded crossing my arms over my chest.

"With Dalton?" She asked raising her eyebrows. I told her about the liking I had taken on the boy the second I got back from hanging out with him and Chris. "Did you tell him?"

"Not really," I mumble avoiding eye contact with her.

She places a hand on her hip giving me a knowing stare that I wanted to avoid.

"How can you get your hopes up if you haven't even told him how you feel?" Izzy states bluntly making me cringe.

"Its what he said last night," I sighed. "He painted a really beautiful picture of a garden with the sun, with all these bright and pretty colors."

Izzy walked over to my bed waiting for me to continue.

"Dalton doesn't use too much color when he creates, so when I asked why this time around, he said it's because someone inspired him," I explain reliving last night's events.

"So? That someone could've been anybody-"

"He said it was a girl," I say lowly looking to my right at the wall in front of me. Since becoming friends with Dalton, he's gifted me all sorts of drawings.

My favorite flower, peony, a portrait of Louis Armstrong because that's my favorite artist to listen to when I'm reading, and my personal favorite, a painting of me reading my favorite book.

"Was he looking at you when he said that?" My roommate asked a frown forming on her lips. I began to feel that heaviness on my chest again, this time I didn't need a movie help get out this cry.

"Nope," I confirmed for her, my eyes swelling with tears. "I left after that."

Before Izzy could respond, there's a knock at our door causing me to panic.

"I don't want to see anyone right now," I begged my friend. "Send whoever it is away."

Wiping away my stray tears, Izzy creaks the door open before looking over at me with a sheepish smile.

"I think you'll want to see this person," she says opening the door wider to reveal the boy I wanted to avoid.

"I brought you your favorites," Dalton gives me a small smile as he holds up an iced vanilla cold brew in one hand and a small bag in the other which I'm sure was the breakfast sandwich I always got at Starbucks.

Dalton used to give me a hard time about my Starbucks intake but after forcing him to try my favorites he understood why I was so broke all the time.

"Call me," Izzy mouthes to me before walking out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Dalton saunters over to me, handing me my items as I sit there dumbfounded at what my roommate just did.

"You feeling better this morning?" He asks taking a seat at my feet. "Was hoping the coffee would help."

"Yeah, I'm still not all there," I sniffle avoiding his gaze as I stir the sweet cream at the bottom to blend in with the cold brew.

"Sounds like you might have a cold," he reaches his hand out to press the back of it to my forehead then my cheeks. "Maybe we should-"

"Dalton," I cut him off removing his hand away from my face. "I'm not sick."

There's a pang of guilt in me when I see the look of hurt come across the boys face. He was just trying to help and I was being bitter.

"You can't help with this," I assure him quietly taking a sip of the drink in my hand. So good.

"Try me," the blonde pushes. I sigh looking him dead in the eye.

"I really like you, Dalton," I finally let out. "I like you like I'll let you have the last bite of this sandwich like you, I like you like I think of you in every love song Taylor Swift has ever wrote like you, I like you like I want to call you after any little exciting thing happens to me like you."

"I like you so much, and you told me another girl is inspiring you," I look down at my hands that were slowly growing cold due to the melting beverage in my hand.

Dalton falls silent for a moment making me sick to my stomach. I poured my truth out, that's all I can do. I probably just ruined everything. No more Friday show binging, no more Tuesday study sessions with Chris, no more of him picking off my food in the mornings.

It's all over.

"You didn't look at my painting very well," he finally breaks the silence. Looking up at him, I furrow my brows.

"What?"

"You are the girl," the corners of his mouth quip up. "You've been my inspiration since the first day Chris introduced us."

My breath hitches in my throat as I take a deep breath.

"I've been drawing peonies since I saw them on your phone case," he admits reaching out to tap the back of my phone.

I think back to the painting from last night and immediately recall the colors of different pinks splattered across the canvas below the bright orangey sun.

"Peonies are playful, beautiful, lively, and bashful, just like you," he says gently running his thumb over the top of my cheek. "Incase it isn't obvious already, I really like you too, (Y/n)."

Relief washes over me, a giddy feeling running through my veins instead.

"You think I'm beautiful?" I tease him tilting my head to the side. Dalton shakes his head biting back a grin.

"Playful," he refers back to the flower's characteristics.

He lays his palm flat against the side of my face making me lean into his touch.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks staring at me with adoration.

"Never ask again," I confirm for him before pressing locking my lips with his. I snake my free hand around the back of his neck pulling him closer to my body.

My heart sputters in my chest, as our mouths become familiar with one another's. His mouth still tasted minty from bushing his teeth not too long ago, while I'm sure mine tasted of coffee.

We pull away slowly, the tips of our noses still touching.

"You are so beautiful," he whispers confirming my question from earlier.

A warmth splays across my cheeks at his compliment, I smile widely leaning my forehead against his.

"I suddenly feel so much better," I quip up placing my arms over Dalton's shoulders.

"Good," he murmurs pressing a soft kiss to my forehead moving his hands to grasp my hips. "Because I'm taking you out for lunch."

"Why not dinner?" I chuckle at the unusual date time.

"Because we're doing what we should've done last night, tonight," he explains. "We are watching 'Suits' and eating candy as soon as we get back."

"Oh," I laugh realizing his plan.

"Does that sound good to you?" He asks bumping his head with mine.

"Sounds perfect."

#dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert imagines #dalton lambert #ty simpkins #insidious the red door #dalton lambert fluff #dalton lambert fic #dalton lambert x you

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covenantofthedeep · 1 year ago

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forcing a smile and waving goodbye ☆

feat. | xiao, childe, hu tao, and raiden shogun summary | breaking up w them :( a/n | it's been so long since i've written angst omg

hu tao |

she's been together with you for so long that she can hardly remember days without you. her life's been split into two sections; With You and Without You. Without You is cold and dark, a cave in her mind where she vanishes during the night and doesn't emerge till noon the next day.

she remembers how, before she met you, she was just there--incomplete, always bouncing around, always tailing people. she was just that girl at the funeral parlor that somehow knows zhongli. she was just hu tao. she remembers how, just two weeks after you two had started dating, she'd become hutaoandyn. she'd become important.

when you sit her down at your perfect mahogany-colored dining table, your perfect hands cupping a warm, steaming tea, your earnest eyes staring into hers, saying i don't think this is working out anymore, she is convinced it's a nightmare. she lets the words flow over the top of her head, holding her breath so she wouldn't cry. she doesn't say anything (are there even words for this awful pain?), just swallows her burning tea and stands up. the chair makes an awful squeaking noise, probably scratching up the floors you love so much. and she thinks, i hope they get scratched up so bad that every time you see them you think of me. and then she had feels ashamed, and petty. she forces a smile and she waves goodbye, and then slams the door.

she sits in the car for what felt like ten years, tears dripping onto the steering wheel and the seat, her shoes in her hand, her nose burning. the sky is gray, the ground is gray, the clouds are taunting her. her fire is gray, the funeral parlor is bleak. there is no joy in steamed fish. there is no joy in pranking people, not without you.

glaze lilies bring to mind your love for puns, the way she would wake up every sunday morning with a fresh bouquet and a note pinned to them on her bedside table. her heart splits a little when she eats jueyun chili chicken, because it was your favorite. when it comes around to your birthday, she takes a long bath and cries until her throat is raw and her eyes are red and swollen. on her birthday, despite the party that her friends throw for her, she wonders if you're remembering her the way she remembers you.

xiao |

xiao has never been good with feelings, but he is completely head over heels in love for you. he would sprint in front of a moving train for you. he would stab himself for you. he would rip out his heart for you, except you've done it first.

words shouldn't be able to hurt this much, especially words coming from your mouth, your mouth which usually says, i love you, xiao. except this time, it's saying, maybe we should rethink our relationship. i think we need a break. and he knows that you aren't meaning to hurt him, just trying to move on, just trying to make yourself feel better, but that doesn't console him. he tries to make himself feel angry as you're talking to him, but he can't. it's as if he won't feel anything ever again, just the painful pressure in his head, the ringing of your voice in his ears.

do me a favor and break my nose, or tell me to go away, he screams at you, but just in his head. he loves you, still. he feels like a broken nose would hurt less than this, your patient, sympathetic smile, your cried-out eyes that show that you still care too. you reach for his hand, but he feels like your touch would burn, maybe it would make him shatter into a million pieces like glass. do people do that? do adepti do that? does anything alive do that at all?

he feels like he's drowning, like something's holding his head underwater. it's making your face all fuzzy. or maybe that's the tears in his eyes, or maybe he's tired. maybe he's so tired he's hallucinating the whole thing. but that would be too good to be true, because you're standing up and squeezing his shoulders and walking off.

he guesses that you won't have any more tea dates. and with that, he hurls his cup to the ground and watches it shatter.

raiden shogun |

raiden is unaccustomed to love, which is why it hurts more when you're breaking up with her. she had told you that she wasn't the right person to love, that she could hurt you, that she wasn't perfect. you had kissed her and told her that she was wrong, she was lying, of course she was perfect. despite her protests, she had fallen in love with you; your smile and your chin and your cheeks and your forehead. your hands, which hold hers.

she wants to slap you, make you hurt the way she does. she wants to kill you for how you made her love you and then you're making her stop. but of course, she can't stop. how could she ever not love you? you take her face in your hands and she melts, she slumps away. she tries to deny it to herself (of course you still love her!) but it feels like she's ripping away, like just a small gust of wind could strip her away to her skeleton.

bleakly, in her haze, she wonders if there's someone else. someone else who's stolen your gaze as she once did, who you think about at night and whisper stolen words into their ears. but then she thinks about you, and she realizes that would not be the case. you would be doing it because you would think that she wanted it, that she wanted space.

you kiss her cheek, and she thinks numbly, maybe if she was better at love, this wouldn't happen.

childe |

childe had never thrown himself into love as fervently as he did with yours. you could make him smile when he felt like he was dying, and your laugh had taken up a space in his brain reserved specifically for you.

he loved how the light dappling across your face could bathe you in such an ethereal glow, as if you were blessed by the archons. and, he guessed, sometimes you were. it's uncanny, the way your face showed no emotion as you took his hand and whispered, i think we need a break. his heart had shattered then, into a million pieces that dissolved into his body. maybe he could never fix it.

he stares at you, so blankly, you wonder maybe if he hasn't heard you. then he says, what? so softly, so sadly, it almost splits your soul apart. he thinks, probably, that no one will make him as happy as you did. perhaps he will never be happy again. this thought scares him, it rattles him, he never wants to forget your face.

he's never cried over someone before, but he does now. and the sight of his tears shock you, as if you've been dumped into an ice-cold bath and can't breathe. he's sobbing, hands curled into tight fists, waving you away, telling you to just go, please go, please, please go. you don't want to leave him, but you know his sadness will turn to anger and he will lash out. you press a kiss to his temple and he shouts, fuck off! fuck off and go!

as he watches you go, he thinks that simply "fuck off" might be too kind.

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jspenft · 1 year ago

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Gojo drabble ☆ FATHER'S DAY EDITION

Fluff fluff fluff, suggestive if you squint (at the veeery end), maybe a bit cheesy, since it's Father's Day here in France here's a little something (we're the next day when I post this but anyway). It's just what comes up in my mind and one of the few times I'm really writing so be indulgent pls, english isn't my first language, 1,2k.

Satoru wakes up in a very good mood. Today is HIS day! (well every day is his day but here more than usual okay?)

He woke up so early but didn't get up. He'd rather wait for the kids to wake him up, like they did with you on your day.

Yeah back then, he prepared countless surprises for your Mother's Day with your children of 4 and 2 yo, respectively a girl and a boy.

So it's normal that he can't wait to see what you've all prepared for him today.

But your children never came to your room. *No breakfast in bed then? Well whatever, doesn't matter*

He won't stop repeating your kids things like:

"What a beautiful day to be a dad!"

"The weather is nice today, don't you think kikufuku"😀

"Honey what day is it?~" :))

"Huh? It's Sunday Papa", answered your daughter

And then, at noon, the kids still didn't say to him: "Happy Father's Day".

So honestly, he thinks they forgot, you all forgot.

How to say he went from his best day of the year, to his worst in less than a few hours.

Of course you notice that he sulks, and you're like,

"Can you help me with this step of the recipe please?", you ask him

"No. Don't want to"

"What's the matter Toru you usually love cooking with me?"

"I said don't want to", and he's pouting again

In the evening he expects only one thing: for it to be midnight to complain that you all forgot his Father's Day.

Around 6.p.m, he already wanna go to bed.

"'Night i'm going to sleep"

"NO!", the three of you scream in unison with shocked eyes as you watch him slowly walk towards the bedroom

"Huh?" he looks at you puzzled

"Um, I mean.. you can't go to bed just yet. We have- we have to go to the store to buy something to eat for tonight", you giggle nervously, scratching your neck

"Well you can go alone, I'll watch the ki-"

"No Papa! Let's all go together! Cmon, wear your coat!", your daughter cuts him off

"Yeah wear you goat Papa", your son, trying to imitate his big sister

He's bregudingly follows you. Anyway he has no choice, his children are busy trying to grab his coat and push him out of the house.

He continues to pout on the way, hands in his pockets.

"But the store isn't usually this way, why're we goin' to Jujutsu tech"

"Don't worry Toru it's a short way off", you say as you all enter the forest belonging to the Jujutsu tech

*Damn he's gonna suspect something, shit, we gotta hurry before he wants to go home* you think

A few minutes later, the children and you trotted to enter the park before him. You whisper things to each other before you all look up at him and shout:

"HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!!"

His ears tilt when he hears what he wanted since this morning, and his eyes widen as he walks into the park.

Fairy lights and balloons surround a magnificent picnic table. His favorite dish, strawberry cake, pastries, and lots of decorations that your children prepared themselves.

*beautiful* He stopped walking a while ago and can't stop admiring everything.

"That's..."

He can't finish his sentence that he puts a hand in front of his eyes and... he's crying..?

"Papa ?"

"Papa why you crying? You don't like it?"

You're children think they didn't do well.

"No, no that's not it. It's just, thank you. No.. sorry. Sorry I thought you forgot", he confess

They giggle, "We prepared everything with mommy. We refrained from saying happy Father's Day to you before tonight! We did a good job didn't we?", your daughter smiles happily while holding her father's pants

Your son follow his sister saying,

"You like the surprise Papa?"

Satoru squats to hug them "Yes, I really appreciate that, thank you my loves"

He kisses them on their cheeks and stand up before telling them "Come on, go play with the balloons before you sit down to eat"

"Yayyy", they exclaim with joy as they start running around the table

He watches them play with a smile before hearing someone started talking.

"Soo...", you're approaching him "You really think we forgot?", you quipped

He rolls his eyes "Not at all"

"Toru you're pouting again", you looking at him with amusment

He raises his head and confesses "Okay maybe a little"

"You finally raise your head huh, your head were down the whole way.. such a drama queen", you tease him "but don't worry..", you say cupping his cheeks "I'd think the same if I were you. But that was a surprise.. I'm sorry", you avow before pulling him into a kiss

"You still love it?"

"Of course", he smile brightly "Anyway how did you prepare all this?"

"Megumi helped", you smile "He helped me get you away from home while we were preparing all the food and all. He was the one who set the table and lit the light garlands before we arrived"

He remembers something before answering "So, that's why I saw you on your phone all day"

"Yeah I had to check if the preparations were going well"

"You sneaky girl"

You laugh together when your little monsters kids call you.

"Mama! Papa! Come eat!"

Satoru couldn't help laughing when he saw them already starting touching the food.

"Hey don't you dare eat without me you rascals", he races to catch them, then they giggle so hard when he starts tickling them.

"What a beautiful sight", you smile at the view

After the cake, your little ones gives him his gifts.

He loves any gift his children give him, really, any.

Pasta necklace? He wears it with pride

Drawing? He'll post it on the fridge, in the entrance wall, in his wallet, whatever as long as everyone can admire his precious children's masterpieces.

Cakes made with love with the help of their mother? He... honestly he would hesitate to eat them all at once or savor them.

The rest of the evening is spent in laughter and cheerfulness.

You come home late that day.

Your kids were gone at uncle Nanamin's house for that pajama party which was planned a long ago.

You in the bathroom, Satoru in your shared bed as he shout,

"Sweetheart come to bed alreadyyy", he wines

"Did you really think your day was over?"

"Hmm?", he thinks hearing wrong

When you come out of the bathroom adjoining your room, Satoru can't take his eyes off you.

You were absolutely stunning in that new underwear set, as you continue with a cocky smile,

"Happy Father's Day Daddy"

*God this is going to be a long night*

The rest is up to the future lmao

-------- bonus --------

The next day, Satoru complains to Megumi, "Why didn't you wish your handsome dad an happy father's day you unworthy sonnn", he cry out shaking him, pretending to cry

"You're not my dad i don't owe you a present or something" he exclaim

"Yet you helped Y/n yesterday, that counts as a gift, thanks Gumiii"

He's caught off guard

"Oww you're blushing! My little boy is blushinggg~"

Legend has it that Satoru left with a bump on his head after this interaction.

#I just know he'd be hurt to think you forgot his day #Such a child #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x you #jjk x reader #gojo imagine #jjk fluff #gojo drabble #gojo headcanon #jjk headcanon #dad!gojo #father's day

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your-divine-ribs · 4 months ago

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Incredible

Words: 3.4k

Anyone who follows my main blog knows I’m obsessed with Van’s hands so when I saw the above post on here I knew I had to write something // friends/housemates to lovers // smut of course (it’s Sunday)

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

"Damn it!" You cry out, frustrated as your finger slips off the guitar string and an ugly twanging sound emanates from the instrument as you attempt to strum. "I'm never gonna get the hang of this. It's too hard!"

"Maybe we should take a break, we can try again in a little while."

Van eyes you warily with a sympathetic look on his face, and for some reason this just makes you even more determined. It can't be that hard. He makes it look so simple, the way he effortlessly picks at the strings and the way his dexterous fingers move gracefully over the frets.

Oh but his hands...

Now you're distracted again but you can't help it. His hands are just so beautiful, large broad palms with long, supple fingers. He has his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and you can see raised veins protruding under his skin. You never even realised having a hand kink was a thing until Van became the current object of your desires. Now you can't take your eyes off them and you're beginning to wonder whether you should have asked someone else to teach you how to play your new guitar instead.

"But I don't want to stop... not yet. You know how I hate to give up on things." You shift where you sit, pulling the acoustic guitar closer to your body. "Can you just show me the C chord again? Just one more time? If I can get the hang of this one then we can have a break, okay?"

You've been close friends with Van for years now and house-mates for just three months, but last weekend you'd slept together, and we're not just talking 'good mates sharing a bed and a bit of platonic cuddling' sleeping together. In fact not much sleeping occurred at all. You'd both stumbled home drunk from the pub after Van had offered to take you out to drown your sorrows after your latest relationship had broken down, and somehow one thing had led to another. You weren't even sure who'd made the first move now as your recollections were so hazy, but it had been loud and messy and passionate, clothes torn from bodies in haste, kisses searing skin, hips clashing desperately. It wouldn't have been so bad if you'd addressed the incident when you'd first woken up, but instead you'd just gathered up your clothes and sidled out of Van's bedroom the next morning, shamefaced and embarrassed whilst he'd still been snoring. Neither one of you had mentioned it since.

And now here you are, sitting cross-legged opposite Van on the floor of your living room, trying to concentrate on chords and finger patterns when your mind is in the gutter just from watching him innocently strum.

"Okay," he smiles. "So you need three fingers for C, but they each need to be on a different fret. It's a bit of a stretch at first, but you'll get the hang of it. Just watch me... watch where I place my fingers."

And you do watch, seeing how he curls his slender fingers around the neck of his guitar, his index, middle and ring finger depressing three strings, spanning the frets effortlessly. "And you only strum the bottom five strings for this one." He lightly strums with the other hand to demonstrate. "See... it's simple."

You offer him a mock scowl as you strain to get the correct positioning. "Simple for you maybe with those freakishly long fingers of yours!"

Van chuckles, pretending to take offence. "Hey, less of the freak-talk! Didn't anyone ever tell you not to disrespect your teachers?"

You stick your tongue out at him playfully. "Sorry Sir!"

"That's better," he smirks back at you. "Now come on, try again. I know you can do it."

"Ughhh," you grumble, getting your index and middle finger into position but then failing to reach the third fret. "It's impossible, I can't reach."

"C'mon, don't give up," he says in encouragement. "It just takes practice, that's all. You'll find if ya keep doing it your fingers'll get used to it. I don't even have to think about it now, it's like muscle memory."

You try again, twisting your hand, your ring finger hovering over the correct position. It's not comfortable but you manage it... just.

"Yay I did it!" You squeal, transfixed with watching the way Van's beaming smile lights up his whole face instead of the guitar in your lap as you go to strum, your lapse in concentration meaning that your finger slips yet again.

"Ah shit!" You curse, rubbing the tips of your fingers with your thumb. They feel bruised from the pressure of the hard strings. "I swear these strings are made out of razor wire, my fingers are so sore."

"Everyone gets sore fingers at first, especially on acoustic, it's the steel strings," he explains. "Ya have to toughen 'em up. I was the same when I first started, I hated it in fact. After a while it didn't bother me though. They get all hard and calloused up after a while. Look at 'em now!"

He swings his guitar around and off his lap, setting it on the floor, shuffling over to you on his bum. He's so close that your knees knock together. He offers you his left hand, waggling his fingers in your face and you hesitate, unsure what he's asking of you, your pulse rate automatically increasing with his proximity.

"Go on, look at 'em!" He urges. "Feel 'em! Feel my fingertips."

He looks so eager that you can't refuse, taking hold of his outstretched hand in both of yours and looking down to study it. His skin is warm and the backs of his hands are surprisingly soft, but sure enough there are small callouses on each fingertip, the skin tough and hardened after years of pressing down on the unforgiving strings.

"See what I mean?" He says, but you don't look up at him when you nod a reply. You're enjoying holding his hand a little too much, your fingers gently stroking over the rough patches of skin, your pulse starting to quicken as your mind races with a million thoughts which definitely don't involve Van's abilities at playing a musical instrument. You're wondering what those fingers would feel like dipping below the hem of your skirt and trailing up the bare skin of your inner thighs. Even though you've already been intimate you were both too tipsy to take your time and really appreciate the moment and each other's bodies. It's all a hazy blur... more's the pity.

"Okay... can I have my hand back now?" Van laughs and it snaps you out of your day-dreaming.

"Oh... err... yeah... sure," you mumble, your embarrassment increasing, letting go immediately.

"Unless ya wanna keep hold of it of course..."

You're still not looking directly at Van but you can hear the teasing tone in his voice, you can picture the mischievous smile stretched wide on his lips. Your cheeks are glowing but there's nowhere to hide. He's too close. You decide to laugh it off.

"No thanks!" You scoff, finally looking up to meet his eyes which are glowing playfully. "Why the hell would I wanna do that?"

"Well... there's a lot that can be said for these freakishly long fingers of mine if you must know..."

"Oh really?" You roll your eyes dramatically, trying to ignore the embers that are sparking down low in your body at the way his voice has dropped to a deeper, more sultry tone. "You got some secret special talent or something?"

He looks back at you, his cheeky grin practically splitting his face in two. "Mmm... maybe I have."

Fuck... why does he have to be so gorgeous? It's a bad idea to get involved with your house-mate. You know it is. Last week was a mistake. A stupid, drunken one. But still you can't resist the temptation to flirt back.

"So... you gonna tell me what it is then?"

You look at him eagerly, your bottom lip caught in your teeth. You know that he can see the colour in your cheeks now but you're past caring. He's wearing the same hue, albeit muted on his pale skin. There's no mistaking the tension in the air, it's heavy and full of the sort of chemistry that makes your heart pound and your body thrum. You feel like a tuning fork, resonating on his frequency.

"I could do," he says, and you see him reach over in your outer field of vision, feel the guitar lift off your lap as he grabs it and moves it aside. "Or I could just show you..."

It all happens so quickly. One moment your eyes are fixed on each others, the next he's lunging forward, one hand curling around the back of your neck, the other cupping your face, pulling you to him in a rush of heat.

"Van!" You gasp out a split second before his lips crash against yours, any further words snatched right out of your mouth and swallowed by his hungry lips. He lets out a low moan as his tongue slips between your lips and the sound reverberates somewhere deep inside you, igniting a need for him that catches you unawares. It's desperate and fierce, increasing with each passing second as your lips press against each others with bruising desire, any hesitance melting away in an instant.

"Can't stop thinking about you," he admits breathily in between kisses, his hands wandering down to your ass as he grabs handfuls of your flesh, hauling your body effortlessly up and on to his lap. "Ever since last weekend. The feel of your lips... your hands... your... everything. God, I want you so much... wanna hear you moan like that again."

His words rile you up even more and you eagerly straddle his lap, your hands winding around the back of his head to tangle in his hair. "Why didn't you say something? I've been walking on egg-shells this past week. I was so worried we'd made a mistake... thought maybe you regretted it."

"Me?" His voice goes high. "You were the one who sneaked out and didn't say a word! I thought I'd messed up jumping on you like I did."

So... he was the one who'd made the first move then. You can't hold back the self-satisfied smile that emerges on your lips. You push your pelvis into his so there's no mistaking that you want this just as much as he does. "Maybe we ought to do it again... you know... just to make sure it's what we both want."

"I couldn't agree more," he smirks back, needing little encouragement. His hands are already gripping the hem of your skirt and pulling it up around your hips, his lips on your neck, peppering it with hot, wet kisses. "Wanna see how incredible I am with these hands then?" He mumbles against your skin.

God, he's so fucking cocky sometimes, but far from it putting you off it actually turns you on. You don't doubt for a second that those fingers can create more than just beautiful music and you're already throbbing at the thought.

"Uh-huh," you breathe, tipping your head back to extend your neck, eyes fluttering shut until you hear Van let out a low chuckle.

"Oh, very cute," he muses as you feel his fingertips gently tugging on the elastic waistband of your panties.

You groan internally as you crane your neck to follow his gaze, realising you're wearing the most ridiculous pair of novelty panties, the day of the week emblazoned across the front in a garish pink font.

"Scared you'll forget what day of the week it is or summat?"

"Ah crap," you grumble, your cheeks glowing scarlet with embarrassment as Van traces the lettering with a fingertip, a featherlight touch that sends shivers of heat sparking through your core. "I didn't know this was gonna happen did I? I'm not exactly... uhh... prepared."

"Don't worry love, I'll make sure you don't forget today in a hurry," he mutters self-assuredly, his smile salacious.

You swallow hard, your voice coming out shaky as his fingertips hook under the waistband, starting to inch them down your hips. "Show me then."

There's an awkward moment of fumbling where you try to assist Van with shedding your underwear, your limbs getting entangled as you slide off his lap. Then he's easing your body down carefully on to the carpeted floor beside him, softly smiling down on you as you feel a warm hand slide between your thighs, gently parting them. His touch feels amazing on your skin.

"I've liked you for ages ya know," he says in an awed tone, his fingertips gliding upwards, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "I never knew you felt the same way though. Thought you reckoned I was just the annoying loud one in the group."

"You are the annoying loud one," you smirk up at him teasingly, a quiet gasp escaping as you feel his fingertips connect with the sensitive flesh between your thighs. "I still fancy you like mad though."

His touch is gentle, teasing as he slides it upwards through your folds, exploring your warm wetness. He brushes over your clit lightly, eliciting a tiny whimper from you, heat in his eyes simmering in recognition of the effect he's having on you.

"You're so pretty love... wanna make you feel good."

He circles your clit a few times, experimenting with different motions and pressures, all the time watching you closely, listening keenly for the tell-tale whimpers that fall from your lips when he catches exactly the right spot.

"Fuck Van," you whisper, feeling self-conscious under the intensity of his gaze. You attempt to turn your head away but he catches your jaw with his free hand, tilting your face back up to his.

"Don't hide away... please. You're gorgeous like this."

He dips his head to press his lips to yours again, his breath hot in your mouth whilst the calloused roughness of his fingers stroke up and down, parting your lips and spreading your wetness around.

It's like the rest of the world ceases to exist. The air around you is thick and expectant, the only sounds punctuating the quiet the wet smacking sounds of Van's lips and your erratic breaths. When he pulls back to look at you he looks fucking perfect... his full lips saliva-slick and swollen from your kisses, his ocean eyes heavy-lidded and hazed over with lust and affection. You want him. You want him so bad you can feel the ache in your very bones.

"Mmm... need more," you murmur, tipping your hips upwards, spreading your legs even wider, buzzing with arousal.

"Don't worry babe, I'm gonna take care of you," he whispers into the shell of your ear, his lips trailing down to suck a reminder of this moment on to the flesh of your neck.

You feel a fingertip travelling lower, tracing your slit, pushing gently inside. It feels so good your hips piston even further up in response, craving more. You whimper keenly, your breath coming out in hot choked bursts.

"Feels good, huh?" He purrs, sliding another digit into your slick heat, your walls clenching and fluttering at the contact. Your response is a mewl of pleasure as he twists his hand to press the heel of his palm against your swollen nub, plunging his fingers deeper as he rocks his hand, creating a sweet friction that has your legs instantly trembling.

He's slow to start, fucking into you deliberately with his slender fingers, his gaze unwavering as he intently watches for every tiny spasm on your features to guide him. The intensity of the moment is incredible, any embarrassment or self-consciousness you felt before now completely disintegrated, your hips rolling eagerly to meet his every thrust.

"So good... so good for me," he utters quietly, tenderly smoothing your hair back with one hand, the other in contrast plunging into you harder and faster, his fingers flexing and curling, stretching you out in the most agonisingly divine way.

Your eyes roll before fluttering shut, your mouth hanging open, whimpers and sighs and moans spilling forth as the pressure builds uncontrollably in your core. And then... all of a sudden... an unexpected burst of heat, a flash of brilliance behind the darkness of your eyelids. You moan loud and drawn out, your face screwing up in ecstasy.

"There?" Van says, his voice thick with arousal, his skilled fingers expertly caressing a hidden spot deep inside, faster and faster, the heel of his hand sliding over your pulsing clit again and again.

"YES... oh god yes... don't stop!" You choke out, your words broken sobs of pleasure, tears spilling over on to your hot cheeks as you shoot out a hand to grasp Van's forearm. You hold on tight, nails digging harshly into his flesh, making him hiss. He just increases the pressure and the pace, relentless.

It's too much... way too fucking much... it feels like your entire being is going to explode into smithereens as your body starts convulsing, your back and hips arching up off the floor and crashing back down like a wave as you cry out.

"Fuck... fuck... FUCK!"

Everything goes fuzzy for a moment, your body finally going slack, your eyes screwed shut as you shiver with aftershocks.

"Fuckin' 'ell..." you hear Van mutter, his voice a low whisper filled with awe-like wonder, and that's when you come round enough to feel it.

"Wha..." you begin, eyes flicking open and legs snapping shut as you scrabble to hoist your body up into a sitting position. There's a sticky wetness between your legs that's way beyond what you'd normally expect and you're caught between horror and embarrassment and bewilderment until you glance up at Van and see his smug look of amazement as he proudly assesses his handiwork.

"Woah... that was so fucking hot! Have you ever... I mean does that normally happen when you come?"

"No, never!" You squeal, the heat of humiliation combining with exhilaration and astonishment that your own body's been hiding this particular capability from you for all of these years... not only have you just had the most intense and powerful orgasm of your life but he made you fucking squirt. "I didn't even realise I could! Oh my god I'm so embarrassed right now!"

You shift on the floor, feeling the dampness that's gathered beneath you, quickly tugging your skirt down to cover your modesty before your hands are flying up to hide your fiery cheeks. Van's on his knees in an instant, hands wrapping gently around your wrists, easing them away so he can see your face clearly.

"Don't be embarrassed... please! Seriously... I'm not lying when I say that was the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my life..." He trails off, eyes full of wonderment with a smile bright enough to burn through the deepest and darkest of doubts. He tangles his fingers in yours, entwining them and pulling your hands into his lap. "You're amazing and beautiful and sweet... and if that wasn't enough to make me lose my goddamn mind whenever we're in the same room together, now I have the knowledge that I can make you sq..."

"Van… stop!" You cry, cutting him off abruptly before he can elaborate, pretending to frown as you see his brows pull together quizzically.

"What?"

"I'm never gonna hear the end of this now am I?" You shake your head, giggling as his trademark mischievous grin takes over.

"Well... there is one particular way you can get me to shut up if you must know..."

He's looking at you like you've just rocked his entire world and you're on a high yourself, a warm fizz of excitement blooming in your gut as your mind whirls with thoughts of what the future could hold for the two of you. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," he smiles, warm and adoring. "Kiss me."

#incredible #catb imagines #van mccann x reader #van mccann fanfic #van mccann #fanfic #vanfic #smut

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fallingforel · 1 year ago

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How about r is a popular singer and is performing at a festival and Alex is watching in the wings or in the crowd singing along. Thank youuuu

a/n ooh this is such a good idea... thank you for the request and I hope you like it and was something you had in mind. special cameo from matty healy too

PROMPT: NONE

WORDS: 1,162

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DECEMBER 15TH 2022

INSTAGRAM

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liked by arcticmonkeys, lewiscapaldi , sam_fender and 1,935 others

yourusername well its official... reading and leeds I'm seeing you, 2023 main stage east 1:30 saturday reading sunday leeds. My first ever festival... see you there

sam_fender gutted to be missing your set Y/n you'll smash it though

lewiscapaldi I'll see you there, be sure to catch her set guys

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AUGUST 26TH 2023

📍Reading festival

"what if I don't do well? It's my first festival. What if nobody shows Al?" I said from my dressing room at reading festival.

"Darling, you'll smash it out the park, I know you. You smash every set you do. And if nobody shows, I'll be there. Singing along to every word."

"Can I bring you on, just to sing one song"

"you don't need me to sing a song with you, besides you have Matty coming on to sing a song with you later. You'll ace it darling"

"Will I though?"

"yes. go and have a look at the crowd, just a peep. I saw it earlier when I was speaking to Jamie. Its fucking huge"

I go and walk down and have a peep from the side of the stage and there it was loads of people all come to watch me.

"I cant believe it... It's not real. How the fuck did I get here"

"Hard work, and Lots of promotion" Jamie, my manager says from where he just watched me look at the crowd.

"Your on in 1 minute by the way, they've finished soundcheck now."

"Okay. Al? last chance" I say which makes Alex pull his sunglasses down from his eyes "You don't need me, you'll be fine" He says before I shrug putting my in ears in and running out to the stage

"Readinnnng, how we fucking feeling" I shout running onto the stage. the Uproar from the crowd makes me cry

"you know when my manager booked me for this. I never ever imagined that there would this many of you. So thank you. This ones for you guys, for being such great fans, I wanna kiss you all" which was the perfect introduction to my first song of the set Kiss you

And Alex was true to his words, There he was side stage. Singing along to every word of my song.

As soon as I had finished my encore... and exited the stage I could hear people chanting for me to come back out "what do you think Y/n/n should we give them a run for their money" Matty asked me from where he joined me on the side of the stage, all rigged up for a performance. "Yeah okay I'll call you out in a minute"

"Okay, okay I can hear you from out there, you are all so loud. What do you say? one more song?" And I hear the loudest uproar from the crowd my in ears not even defending the sound anymore

"Okay, so here it is...spinning"

"found you at four in the morning. confidence soaring, thought you moved onto a new thing, but you keep it revolving. I look so good dressed in nothing. You ended up falling. I never needed your shelter. I'm good with no warning. My love like a city. All night everywhere. You love being with me. you never forget. 24/7 in heaven, you never forget. thought you'd get over the feeling." Is all I'm singing on my own before Matty comes out and joins in and the crowd a few meters from me is screaming, the lyrics back at me.

"but you just keep spinning over there. spinning over there." Matty and I sing together. The crowd joining in. and a few mosh pits happening from what I can see from the height of the stage.

"You must be feeling the pain." I sing

"You must be wondering" matty sings back we are just vibing, and all of my cares about whether the crowd would like me or not because I was just with one of my best friends doing what I loved.

"amphetamines in your brain" "maybe you're suffering" Matty sings at me with a shrug.

"I must be causing your pain I let you do the same"

"But you never regret a thing. Cause the game feels so good to win, darling" Matty and I sing together.

"Yeah, ooh, You just keep spinning" I sing by myself before Mattys joining back in for the chorus.

"My best friend taught me to sin, forgot that I had one, I'm on my knees and I pray, I shouldn't have mentioned, I'm back here after the states. Thought we could catch up. But I know that you fucking around. cause I know you're with it" Matty sang on his own, the crowd and alex from where he was stood backstage joining him. Before going back into the chorus with me one last time.

"thank you Reading, you've been fucking amazing." I say before running off the stage and running into Alex's arms hugging him and he's spinning me around and placing a chaste kiss on my lips

"How did I do?" I ask once he's put me back on the ground.

"You did fucking brilliant Y/n, It was amazing. I'm so proud of you" Alex says before I'm hugging him back, and we're running off to my tour bus.

28th AUGUST 2023

INSTAGRAM

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liked by articmonkeysofficial, truman_black, sam_fender and 2,359 others

yourusername reading and leeds you were fucking brilliant, I just want to say a few words though thank you Matty for joining me for one last song, thank you Alex for calming my nerves before I go on always and a big big thank you to Jamie for discovering me in that dingy little pub back in 2010 I wouldn't be performing a festival if it wasnt for you. And lastly a massive thank you to the fans, for giving me a festival experience to remember I love you. tour dates coming soon.

Truman_black thank you for letting me onto perform

username1 you were so good

sam_fender gutted I missed your performance

TWITTER

username 1 oh my gosh...I was just looking back on my videos from this weekend, Alex was singing every word to y/n's songs. I want what they have 😭😭😭😭

username2 I saw it on the telly too... it was so sweet when the camera was put on him. I love their relationship. They're both so supportive of the other

username3 Y/n absolutely smashed her set this weekend... such a shame she didn't bring alex on though...he knew every word. Has such great stage presence too

↳yourusername I tried getting him to come out...said no. he's watching over my shoulder as I'm typing this but said to say that it's because he didn't want the attention on him 😂😂 you heard it here first folks

↳username2 stop that's so sweet wtf, I love their relationship. Y/n really chose a good one.

#alex turner x reader #matty healy #alex turner x y/n #singer!reader #singer!y/n #alex turner fluff #alex turner fic #alex turner imagine #alex turner #arctic monkeys #instagram #twitter #randlfest #reading fest #leeds fest

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gregoftom · 1 year ago

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I've been thinking about tomgreg living as roommates while Tom and Shiv are like on a break or fully divorced and Kendall's finally thrown Greg out of the apartment, and, like. It would surprise them both how easy and natural it would be?? Tom's all tidy and Greg's more of a mess but he'll make an effort to be cleaner when Tom nags at him. Greg loves taking Mondale on walks an they go together to the dog park on weekends all three of them. Tom gets back into the habit of cooking dinner because Greg appreciates it way more tha Shiv ever did. Maybe Tom even makes Greg help chop things and it becomes a nice little routine for them! And they do movie marathons with wine and a few spliffs and Greg helps Tom properly relax for the first time in years.

It's all domestic and casual and so so easy and they're both trying hard not to read into it, trying not to think about how easily it could become more, even when they're falling asleep on the sofa leaning against each other or when they're making a list for their shopper together for when they want to make some elaborate new dish... when Greg's stealing one of Tom's old college jumpers or when they're taking Mondale for a check up at the vet together, when they easily move around each other when they're in a hurry to get ready for work... and it looks and feels so much like a relationship but they can't think about it because if they did, it could become awkward and it would all be ruined and neither of them can risk that --

Until one Sunday morning they're sleepy and making breakfast in the kitchen, Tom at the stove and Greg making coffee - and Tom asks Greg to pass him the bacon from the fridge and Greg does and Tom says thanks sweetheart and gives him a little kiss and Greg smiles and takes a sip of coffee -

And then they both freeze because What the fuck was that??? And they're both sputtering and blushing and frantically trying to back off and explain it away

Tom, in true Tom fashion retreats into his old assholish ways and laughs and goes like "haha yeah can you imagine if that was us lmao that'd be fucking ridiculous and who would tolerate your morning coffee breath anyway lmao"

And he expects Greg to just go along with it, and Greg maybe tries to - but it's not working and he's tearing up and his hands are shaking so bad he has to put his coffee down. And he goes like, "I don't mind the razzing usually but, Tom, you can't joke about this, for real you cannot."

And Tom freaks out because fuck, he didn't mean to make Greg uncomfortable, he didn't mean to just steal a kiss if it freaks Greg out so bad -

But Greg goes on, "You have to know that's the one thing you can't poke me about because it's too fucking hurtful and sure, you're an asshole but you're not _cruel,_ please don't be cruel?" And a tear slips down his cheek and Tom can feel himself tearing up too

And Tom start getting it finally? Because Greg would't be crying if this wasn't real. And Tom decides to take a leap of faith -

He steps right up to Greg and takes him by the cheeks and holds him,, wipes away a tear with his thumb,, goes like,

"Let's back up" all soft and low in his sweetest voice, leaning in until Greg meets his eye - all red-eyed and lip trembling and Tom loves him so so much -

"I called you sweetheart just now, and kissed you, and it was instinct, Greg. It was the most natural thing, it was the only course of action I could reasonably take with how I feel. It's the most natural thing to have you in my space and all your shit in my apartment and your fucking disgusting socks and drug paraphernalia accumulating everywhere -

And Greg's hearing him and the sweetest little hopeful smile is growing on his face, and he asks like, "yeah? No joke?" Because if this is a razz he'll fucking go apeshit -

And Tom presses their foreheads together, "yeah. I go to sleep having had the best time with you, every night, and I wake up to you every morning, your ridiculous bedhead and your sleepy face and god help me I want to kiss you, all day, everyday"

And Greg's smiling for real, meeting Tom's eyes and settling his hands softly on Tom's hips. "You can, you know."

Tom can barely believe it and he's smiling so hard it's difficult but - he kisses Greg again, and it's just as right and natural as it was the first time. Nothing bad happens, the world doesn't end, it's just two men standing in a kitchen and holding each other and smiling and kissing. It's just Greg's soft hair in Tom's hands and his sweet little moan as Tom kisses him harder and his hands petting all over Tom's back and tugging at his clothes already because he's Greg and he's a greedy little creature. And they pull back to look as each other and they're smiling so hard and. It's _good_ and it feels right and maybe it's okay that they're doing this because they're in it together. Yeah anyway that's all thank you for coming to my ted talk i like soft tomgreg !

RRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR YEYEHAHEYHEHAEYAEY GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOLAZO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THATS THE SHIT THIS IS THEEEE FUCKING SHIT bc you know what this is so romcom coded and you KNOW what?! SO IS TOMGREG! like there are LITERAL romcom tropes with tg IN SHOW so you are bang on and this is hjekjqw';dk;lj so aoisljkam;las;laks;a thank you for my fucking life. thank you thanks thaks tyanksn thkans thkas thnksa thka tj. thaks. THANKS!!!!!! thanks . THA NKSssssssssssssssss. ah

#tomgreg #THANK YOU FOR MY LIFE

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futurebird · 1 year ago

Text

My friends all joke about how strict my parents were. But, really mom and dad weren't anything compared to grandma and most of their "strictness" was a bit of an act put on for her benefit as she thought they basically were letting my brother and I "grow up wild like weeds" -- this despite the rules about grades and curfews and dressing properly and all the damn chores.

Two times in my life I had to spend a summer with grandma and neither time went well.

Grandma lived in a small steel town in PA. She raised 5 kids (and raised them right) -- my mom and all her brothers and sisters were the most buttoned up people you could find.

I have still never heard my mother swear. Not even once! I don't think she can. Like it would be physically impossible.

"I will give you $1,000,000 if you whisper the word f*ck."

my mom "f-f----" *blacks out*

Anyway the first time I stay with grandma was when I was about 5 years old. At first it wasn't too bad.

Being a 5 year old I rather liked doing chores and loved to prove that I could learn to do new things quickly and correctly. I weeded the garden, washed the dishes, swept the front and back porch each morning.

Where things started to come apart was the dress code. Grandma wanted me in a skirt and knee socks with a blouse every day! And on Sunday? I had to put on itchy white tights, gloves and a friggin hat! It was basically torture as far as I was concerned.

It did not help that I had not experience sitting or walking in a skirt so I was constantly "unlady like" (which seemed to mean "everyone can see your panties")

Grandma added bloomers under the skirt after the first day. But then I was hot! It was August and we were deep in hills and hollows of western PA.

The whole thing came to a boil that Sunday. Grandma was at her wits end trying to get me dressed for church and I was crying and bawling and unable to even stand.

At last she got me dressed and on my feet and out the door. We walked to church, but the whole time I was being told that I was walking wrong. "Too fast!" now "too slow!" then "stop digging in the dirt!" and "put that beetle down!"

My purse and pockets were full of sticks and interesting stones and bugs by the time we got to the church. Grandma found the contraband and emptied it out in the church garden.

Then the sermon went on FOREVER. In fact I think it must still be going on even now. It's a paradox, but that morning was endless and tedious. And I couldn't flip through the hymnal, couldn't make shapes with my fingers. Had to sit still like a little statue, hands folded ankles crosses no squirming. I wasn't trying to be bad-- I tried to just get through it.

But the last straw came when as we left the church I went over to the garden to try and find my sticks and stones and bugs. I didn't mind that grandma wanted them to stay outside, they would be happy in the garden. But now I wanted to find my treasures.

Grandma might have let it go on another day. But, I'd worn her out. She was grouchy. So she said "No way leave it."

I slapped my arm on my side in frustration.

"I don't want to see that hand go down either." This was the breaking point.

I couldn't even "let my hand go down" -- I didn't even say anything! I knew better than to talk back. Or roll my eyes. Or stomp my foot. But now even the most tiny motion of anger was forbidden.

I had a full blown five alarm melt down. Ended up getting spanked at the church, on the way home, at home again. But I could not stop howling and crying. "I can't do ANYTHING!"

Later when my mom found out about "how things went" she decided that maybe I shouldn't spend time with grandma anymore. And I didn't until I was about 15-- and THAT was a whole other story for another time.

To this day though my mom says "I don't want to see that hand go down." when she's making fun of some really tense restrictive situation when no one is going to get away with anything.

Then I always windmill my arms so that as many hands "go down as possible."

#grandma #strict parents #church #stories

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cantstayawaycani · 1 year ago

Text

Meeting Tenoch @ Comicpalooza Part Three

Sunday May 28 - THE AUTOGRAPH(s)

Today, Tenoch’s autograph sessions started early and I wanted to get there early. That way I would have the rest of the afternoon and then I could just hang out at the con if I wanted to.

I've got his book, and I have my picture. I wanted him to autograph my book, but I bring my picture just in case because I didn't know in the end which one I was gonna give him. I know he saw me with his book and I really wanted him to sign it, but I’m glad I put both in my bag, as you’ll see!

I stopped at the Starbucks that they have on site, because I saw that he had visited the Starbucks the day before and someone said they’d seen him. (Was that @milkfromcats?) I was thinking maybe on the off chance he goes to get himself a coffee? HA! But when I got up there, there were so many people, I was like “oh well there's no way he will come up here,” but I got my coffee and I got a breakfast sandwich. I was feeling energized and good by the time I went down to the photo area.

So I go and I talk to the attendant and I get in line. I see some of the other women that I had met at the panel and we're talking about all kinds of nerdy things.

All of a sudden, I'm so nervous!

I got so nervous I had to start doing a few like breathing exercises just to calm myself down. This was surprising to me because the day before I felt more confident and I guess that was because I had that double shot of vodka.

But it was too early in the morning for me to drink anything like that; it was around 10:30 or 11 AM.

I'm nervous, I'm trying to breathe, I'm talking to the people in line about how great he is and everything and then we get told “OK it's time to go in!”

I’m thinking: “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!”

We're going through the line, and his autograph table was behind a curtain. Everybody else’s was out in the open, even William Shatner's. But for some reason, Tenoch’s autograph table was behind a curtain. I was like, OK great, some privacy!

So when we went through, the girl who was sitting there scanning our barcodes saw I was nervous. She says “Don't be nervous, he's so sweet! When he came and introduced himself to us, he kissed both of my cheeks, and I was just like wow, he’s such a nice guy! So he's gonna be so sweet!”

I'm still trying to breathe and not cry, and manage to say “I know he's lovely, but I’m still so nervous!”

She saw that I had his book, and says “Oh he's gonna love that! He loves it when people bring his book! Not too many people bring his book, so this is gonna be great, don’t worry!"

I feel good about that, but my stomach is still in knots! She really did try to calm me down, but I was a lost cause. My anxiety got the better of me!

I get to the girl who writes my name on a little sticky note for him. I didn't know if I could tell her that I wanted him to personalize a message. I had no idea, so it was just my name.

Now, I'm like right in front of him and say again, “Hi Mr. Mejia, how are you?"

And he goes: “I'm good, Kenya, how are you?"

I say: “I don’t know, I'm nervous man!”

He laughs and looks up at me. He asks “No, why are you nervous?"

As he looks at me, that's when I remember to look at him, because he was finished signing my book. I said “because I just really wanted to meet you!” That’s literally ALL I could think to say at that moment in time.

Mind you, what’s running through my head is that he’s beautiful, but smaller in person. His eyes are BROWN and clear. His hair is PERFECT. He is biting his lower lip and then he licks them and he’s just looking at me very casually, waiting for me to speak and I cannot think of a SINGLE appropriate thing. I want to tell him how pretty he is, but that would be so wrong (in this setting).

Finally he kind of shrugs, or just lifts his shoulders and says “It’s OK, you are here. Thank you for being here!”

I’m thinking, I should be saying this to you!

But all I could manage was: “Thank you!"

He smiles again and says with a little nod “You’re welcome!”

And I take his book and just say “OK have a good day!”

He says “You have a good day too!”

And then I just …. left. I could not think of another word to say! When I tell you I had been up practicing what I was going to say to him! I was gonna tell him “I'm learning Spanish because of you.”

I was gonna say “un poquito, para ti, poco a poca voy aprendiendo.”

But I did not say those words (I’m kind of glad, because imagine me butchering Spanish in front of him?) so I just hightailed it out of there! When I got beyond the curtain, I was like “Holy shit!”

Then I went and I got my autograph authenticated.

Walking back to the hotel, I was kind of disappointed. I was sitting in my hotel room and I was like “I'm not happy about that interaction.”

I felt disappointed in myself for not getting the words out of my mouth and for almost forgetting to look at him and take him in while I was standing in front of him.

So I was like “OK I'm gonna go back to the convention center, I can like hang around and see what's going on and maybe I can see him at some point,” you know?

When I got back to the convention center, it was almost time for his late afternoon session. I said ok let me go get another drink because the bars open. I go up to the bar and I swear I was just gonna get a regular vodka cranberry, but the bartender asked me “do you want a single or double?”

So I took another double vodka cranberry!

Now I don't advise this to everybody. It was just the one drink, but it was a double shot. Ultimately, it was fine. I certainly wasn't drunk or even what I would call tipsy. It just helped to loosen me up.

As I'm walking around, it helped me decided to go up to the autograph booth to scope out my options. He was either on a break or taking pictures at that moment. I ask the attendant if they know if he's gonna come back and at first they couldn’t tell me or not. He could be doing pictures for the rest of the evening.

They tell me to check back, so I walk around some more. When I come back, they have put up a sign and it says he'll be back at 3:30.

So I finally decide then and there, I'm gonna buy another autograph!

I go eat something, and I go line up again. I see the same ladies that I had seen and hung out with at the panel.

They were like “yeah girl we got another one too," so I didn't feel bad! I was standing behind a Latino man who had bought 5 autographs and 2 pictures from Tenoch! That was a lot of money!

I didn’t feel too bad after that! In front of him, there were two Latina women who had got an autograph but the signature got wiped off, so they were going back through the line so that he could sign their picture again. So I was like OK I'm not the only one coming back through here, awesome!

I was determined to say something to him this time!

When they call us in, this time the person who's scanning the barcode is his translator I believe! She perks up when she sees me, like she recognized me (she had been sitting next to him the first time).

She says “Oh hi, back again?”

I say “Yes, I was nervous last time!”

She says “Please, don't be nervous! He is so happy to be here, don't be nervous!”

I say “I think I’m better now!”

I'm going through the line, they asked me again, do you want personalization? And I still only gave her my name.

The women who needed to get a redo because their signature got wiped off were in front of me and I stopped to talk to the marker guy and point at my picture to ask what's the best marker to use for this picture so it doesn’t rub off?

The marker man shows me one, but also says “you just have to make sure it dries before you put it back in the sleeve.”

The marker man is standing right next to Tenoch. At this point now, Tenoch has noticed me and is looking at me talking to the marker guy.

So I turned to Tenoch and say “Oh I'm going to blow on this like my life depends on it so that it won't mess up!”

And Tenoch laughs!

He looks tired but, he’s very present.

I take a deep breath, smile and say “Hi Mr. Mejia, again!”

He says “Hello again Kenya!”

I said “I came back because I was nervous the first time!”

He says “Thank you so much for coming back again!”

I say “You're welcome!”

While he’s signing, I say “OK, while you're doing that, let me tell you this: we love you, and we're proud of you! We don't know you, but we are proud of you! We love when you speak, we listen when you speak! When you speak, you make so many people so proud!”

I pointed to his book in my bag again and I said: “I've been learning Spanish for you so I could read this! So I could understand your story and where you're coming from,”

At this point he’s looking at me again, and blinks and touches his heart. He smiles very warmly and does that little nod again.

He says “Thank you so much Kenya.”

I said “Thank you! It took me three months to work my way through the first three chapters of this book!"

He laughs very quietly and puts his head down. When he looks back up at me, I say “You are a beautiful person and please keep doing what you're doing because you mean so much to me and others.”

He nods and says “thank you” again.

This time, I know I’ve said all I’ve dared to. So I say “OK I just needed to say that because I was nervous the first time.”

He was just like “It's OK!"

And then I was like, “OK have a good day again!” and he’s like “OK have a good day!”

So that's it!

I just booked it on out of there and as soon as I got beyond the curtain I was just like Oh My God! OK I did it! I did it! I went back through!

I wasn't going to go back through; I wasn't even gonna come back to the convention center! I tell you man, soon as I get that double shot of vodka I was like “you know what Kenya, it's your 40th birthday, treat yourself! Get another autograph!"

So I did and I got a chance to actually speak to him and look him in the eyes and see him appreciate the words that I was telling him.

I will say, I think that he cannot really encourage conversation because then he would be spending too much time with one person, so he didn't say much. Also, his translator was on the other side of the table scanning people in for some reason.

I know he speaks English well, so he didn’t really need her. But I don't think he could say much to me because he could not prolong the conversation. He just expressed his appreciation and was telling me thank you and also for me to have a nice day and that was enough for me!

He is such a beautiful person and everybody around him, from the people that were working there at the convention center who were in charge of managing him all said he's wonderful. He kisses people on the cheeks, he gives hugs, he's just the nicest guy.

I'm happy that I got to get his autograph. I'm happy that I got to take the picture. I'm happy that he saw my shoes. I at first kind of wish I had been able to tell him that the “Pretty Baby” shirt was for him, but actually it's a good thing that that is just my little inside pet name. He doesn't really need to know that, it's not for him, it's for me.

All in all, it was a really great experience and I'm really happy that I did this for myself! And now I'm gonna go back home to Los Angeles and relive the memories gazing at my picture!

#tenoch huerta #tenoch huerta mejia #comicpalooza #text post #long text post #whew!#still processing all of this #meeting tenoch

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