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Top-Rated Gas Furnace Repair Near Me: Quality Service Guaranteed
Furnace Repair Near Me: Finding Reliable Services in Your Area When your gas furnace breaks down, finding a reliable repair service nearby is crucial. Local services can offer prompt responses, ensuring that your home remains warm and comfortable. By searching for âfurnace repair near me,â you can quickly locate experienced professionals who can diagnose and fix your furnace issues efficiently.âŚ
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Tfw ur house doesnt have heating so u have to dress up in ur renfest chemise & dress & cloak bc its the warmest thing u have
#real peasant hours#lows are getting into the 20s again starting friday. sure would be nice if anyone could figure out whats up with our furnace#its from the 40s and multiple guys (general handyman. heater guy. electrician) have all kinda been like ???????#ÂŻ\_(ă)_/ÂŻ idk what its doing or how to fix it or what part it even needs lmao#like ok cool. its cold tho. and u gave us oil heaters but also told us not to use them on anything but the lowest setting#bc it might overload the wiring in the house. which is also from the 30s-40s so none of the outlets r grounded or take 3 prong plugs. lmao#so.......#at what point r yall gonna throw in the towel and replace the furnace. when its snowing?#bel speaks
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How to Choose the Right Furnace Blower Wheel for Your Heating System
Selecting the correct furnace blower wheel for your heating system is essential for maintaining efficiency, reducing energy costs, and ensuring optimal performance. With so many options available, understanding the key factors in choosing the right blower wheel can save you time, money, and frustration. This guide will walk you through the essential considerations and highlight the expertise of Central Blower in providing high-quality furnace parts.
Factors to Consider When Choosing a Furnace Blower Wheel
1. Compatibility with Furnace Type
Furnaces come in various types, including gas, electric, and oil-powered. Each requires a specific type of blower wheel to function correctly.
Ensure the blower wheel is compatible with your furnace model. Central Blowerâs extensive catalog includes blower wheels for heating systems of all types, ensuring you find the perfect match.
2. Size and Dimensions
Blower wheels come in different sizes, affecting airflow and efficiency. Measuring the diameter and width of your current blower wheel is critical.
A properly sized wheel helps maintain consistent airflow and avoids overworking your system. Central Blower furnace parts are designed with precision to ensure exact sizing for optimal performance.
3. Material and Durability
Blower wheels are made from materials like aluminum, steel, or plastic. The material impacts the wheelâs lifespan and performance in various environments.
For long-lasting performance, choose durable materials suitable for your heating conditions. Central Blower offers efficient furnace blower wheels built to withstand wear and tear.
4. Energy Efficiency
An efficient furnace blower wheel minimizes energy consumption and reduces operational costs.
Central Blower specializes in designing blower wheels that maximize efficiency, saving you money in the long run.
5. Replacement Needs
If your current blower wheel is damaged, noisy, or causing uneven airflow, itâs time for a replacement.
Replace your furnace blower wheel with a high-quality option from Central Blower to restore your systemâs performance.
Why Choose Central Blower?
Central Blower is a trusted name in the industry, known for delivering superior furnace parts. With a commitment to precision manufacturing and customer satisfaction, they offer:
A wide range of blower wheels for heating systems.
High-quality materials that ensure durability and efficiency.
Expert guidance to help you find the perfect replacement furnace blower wheel.
FAQs
Q: How do I know if my blower wheel needs replacement? A: Look for signs like unusual noises, reduced airflow, or increased energy bills. If youâre unsure, consult an HVAC professional or reach out to Central Blower for assistance.
Q: Can I install a blower wheel myself? A: While itâs possible, professional installation is recommended to ensure proper alignment and performance.
Q: How do I maintain my furnace blower wheel? A: Regular cleaning, lubrication, and inspections can extend the lifespan of your blower wheel.
Q: What materials are best for blower wheels? A: It depends on your furnaceâs requirements, but aluminum and steel are common choices for durability and efficiency.
Call to Action
Donât let an inefficient blower wheel compromise your heating systemâs performance. Explore Central Blowerâs range of high-quality furnace blower wheels today. Contact our team for expert advice or shop online to find the perfect part for your heating system.
Upgrade your heating system with Central Blowerâs reliable solutions and experience unparalleled efficiency and comfort this winter!
#Furnace blower wheels#Central Blower furnace parts#Blower wheels for heating systems#Replace furnace blower wheel#Efficient furnace blower wheels
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another night where you fight, another night of silence. another night where miya osamu sleeps with his back to you.
the realization that there is not much more you can do to save your relationship clutches at your chest with an iron grip.
the gravity of it makes you whimper. pressing your lips together, you shakily push yourself up to sit blinking back tears while blindly stepping around for your slippers, willing yourself not to sobânot here, not where he can hear. your toes touch the fluff of them, and you hurry to slip them on. you need to get out of here.
as quiet as possible, you leave your boyfriend in your shared bedroom.
you stumble to the couch and kick off your shoes, blindly searching until your fingers catch the lampshade switch. you yank it to provide some light, rattling as it flings back into place.
you pull your knees to your chest and press your forehead against your kneecaps. a numb part of your brain thinks oh, so this is where this was, when you think of the misery that quieted itself, replaced with a numbness that overtook you during the fight you had with him earlier.
the numbness that made your limbs feel like ice when he clicked off the phone call without even hearing you out.
you wanted to tell him so much, but in the face of his blank gaze and dismissive demeanor, you shut off. you have more fight in you, you know that. but tonight you just couldnât. couldnât listen to him tell you that he needed more from youâmore support, more time, more patience.
youâve given him that, right? your brain runs with thoughts you can't keep up with. you gave him yourself. you have, for months, for years. you did what you could. youâve withstood lonely anniversaries, forgotten birthdays, broken promises. youâve done everything you could. you gave what you could. you gave everything you could.
i want you to come home, you wanted to tell him eatlier tonight. come home. youâre never home. i know youâre busy at work and youâre doing what you love but please, âsamu. please.Â
love me, too.
your body wracks with a sob, the hurt fresh, as if the words that you never got to say wounded your insides instead. you wanted to tell him that, you wanted to beg for it, beg for his time, beg for his attention, beg for him to love you back. but time and time again he just turns and says heâs tired, he doesn't want to hear it, and the moment is gone, and now the fear of knowing that leaving things unsaid will destroy you, will destroy him. will destroy both of you.
you huddle closer into yourself and sob, a sharp sound in your ears making your head pound.
âbabe?â you hear through the ringing in your ears, and suddenly warm hands are on your arms. âbabe, whatâs wrong?â his voice is calm against your turmoil. âare you having a panic attack?â
ââsamu, iâmââ you shudder and he leaves for a moment, flitting to the kitchen to grab you some water.Â
âdrink, please,â he tells you, gently unfurling you to sit. you comply with shaky limbs, taking the water heâd given you in your delicate grip. a few sips are enough to calm you down, but the fear is still there.
he gingerly takes the glass and sets it aside. he kneels in front of you, taking your hands and soothingly rubbing his thumbs against your skin. his fingers are hot, almost like a furnace, but when you realize that he's not, he's fine, your hands are freezing, you resist the urge to pull away as he warms your palm.
when he looks up to smile at you, you see the exhaustion on his face, and, instantly, you hate yourself for it. for this.
"i'm sorry," you blurt out, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over.
his hand leaves yours and cups your cheek. "for what, baby?"
âi love you so much, osamu,â you tell him without thinking, voice thick and wet and miserable. you press the palm of the hand he let go of against his cheek, hiccuping when he closes his eyes to lean into your touch.Â
âi love you, too,â he says, ready to apologize for the fight, but it's not about that.
not anymore.
you pull away. the confusion and hurt on his face is making everything worse.
âi love you so much,â you tell him, desperately wishing that he could understand. âbut iââ you sob, âbut, osamu, i canât anymore.â
osamu presses his lips together, saying nothing. you hear him sniffle, and his fingers come forward to brush at the tears on your cheeks and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.
âi love you so much,â you confess. âi would do anything for you. and i have, i have for years. iâve tried my best, but osamu, iâm so tired,â you sob. your voice feels like its giving out but the desperation makes the words claw themselves out of your mouth. âiâm so tired, i'm so tired and i'm so lonely, andâandâand i love you so much, but i have nothing left to give.â
you pull your hands away to hunch over and cry into your palms unable to face him. messily, you wipe at your face and push your hair back. you give him the most apologetic smile you can muster, but you're unable to see his face through your tears. âiâm so sorry i canât give you more, osamu.â
you hear him sniffle and when you wipe your tears away with the backs of your hands, his eyes are glassy. then he closes his eyes.
the pain that washes over his face is absolutely unbearable. the furrow of his brow and the wrinkle of his chin, the lines by his scowl that you know is him trying his best to keep it together.
when he opens his eyes to look at you, his eyes are no longer glassy. your heart breaks for the pain he refuses to show. âwhatâs next?â
your smile is sad and wet with tears. âi think you know.â you brush his hair back and cradle his face with your hands. âletâs⌠letâs do this in the morning, okay?â
he nods, looking away. he licks his lips and shakes his head, and he turns to face you with a furrowed brow and a little more composure despite his watery gaze. but it doesnât take long before his face crumples and he rushes to hide his face against your legs. his quiet sobs are pained and miserable, his chest shaking as he cries.Â
you press your face against his hair and cry with him.
â
the morning greets you kindly, the soft sunlight bathing your room in a sweet glow. itâs early, but you canât keep sleeping. thereâs a lot to pack.
your eyes feel hot and swollen, and bones feel heavy beneath your skin, weighing you down from getting up from the bed. still, you fight. you push yourself up to sit and notice that youâre alone. unsurprising, really; osamu has been leaving earlier and coming home later. onigiri miya needs care, needs nurturing, so itâll blossom and grow. you need to stop begrudging him for it.
you finish your morning ablutions in the bathroom and head out to the kitchen, but when you open your bedroom door, the smell of food hits your nose like a smack to the face. your stomach twists when you see a familiar broad backâosamu didnât leaveâand your fingers turn cold.
the door slides shut behind you and he turns. âgood morninâ,â he says quietly, shutting off the stove.
âgood morning,â you say, walking to your kitchenette. when you see the spread on the table, you gape despite yourself. âosamu. what isâwhat.â
he flushes, sliding a delicious looking steak unto a plate and setting it alongside the other platesânearly every single plate you own, you noteâand your dining table is bursting with food. âcooked breakfast.â
âfor how many people?â you ask, incredulous. âi tried t'remember everythinâ you liked,â he said with a sniff, and your heart crinkles at the edges, because that means something.
âthank you,â you whisper, and you quietly take a seat while sets aside the dishware he used.Â
when he finishes, he turns to look at you, leaning on the counter. it takes him a while. âwhen you leave,â he says, âiâm going to try again.â
you stare at him, confused. you say nothing and wait for him to continue.
âi donât want you to leave,â he says, and he rubs his face in frustration. âbut i know iâveâi know i fucked up. i love you, and i never shouldâve hurt you.â he inhales through his nose. âbut i did, and i canât change that.
âbut iâm not giving up on you. not on us. youââ he clears his throat, and the dark circles beneath his eyes makes your heart feel tight. âiâll⌠if i have to start all over again, iâll do it,â he whispers, walking closer and taking your chin in his hand, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. âiâll win you back.â
âosamu,â you whisper, and his face crumples again.
âi love you too much to let you go,â he says, voice breaking as he fights back tears. âand i know that makes me a jerk. but iâm⌠i love you, so muchâso fucking much, and i hate myself for not making you feel that. for hurting you.â
he gets on his knees and tears are streaming down your face. âleave me if you have to,â he says brokenly.
âif you need space, iâll understand. but please,â he begs. âplease donât give up on me.âÂ
he does the unthinkable. he curls over and bows, back curved and forehead pressed against the backs of his hands, pressed against the floor.
the horror that overtakes you is beyond words.Â
you drop to the floor to pull him upright, not letting him do this. he wonât do this to himself, you wonât let him. not for anyone, not for you. you pull his face against yours and kiss him as hard as you can, crying as you do.
you won't let him do this.
later, you sit on the couch, arms around osamuâs middle as you lie on his chest. the idea that this could be the last time you held him like this made you want to burst into tears again.
âiâll make it up to you,â he promises, pushing your hair out of your face, gently guiding your chin up. âplease, just⌠give me another chance.â
you look up at him, and your eyes meet.
â
âhey!â atsumu greets warmly as soon as you enter the restaurant, spreading his arms wide to engulf you in a hug. âitâs so good tâsee you!â
âhi, âtsumu,â you greet, returning the hug.Â
he motions for you to sit as he picks up the menu. âknow what you want?â
you nod, not even bothering to pick up the menu. âhow are you? howâs training?â
ââm good! trainingâs good. teammates are pretty good, too.â
"yeah? like who?"
atsumu makes a show of looking at the menu. "oh, i don't you know them."
you roll your eyes at his obvious ploy to get you to start talking. âfine. ask me.â
atsumu instantly leans in, conspiratorially covering his mouth with the menu and whispering, âhow are you two? itâs been over a month now, right?â
âoi.â you twist your head to smile up at the newcomer. âstop bothering them, âtsumu.â
atsumu glares at his twin. âiâm the one who invited âem to lunch!â
osamu rolls his eyes and lays down a platter of onigiri in front of you. he snatches the menu and smacks his brotherâs wandering hands with it before they get to close. âthese are not for you.â
âbut thatâs a lot!" atsumu whines. "canât i have any?â
âno,â osamu says resolutely, then turns to you and gives you the softest smile he can muster, pinning the menu by his side and arm.
"i haven't even ordered yet!" atsumu complains.
osamu ignores him. âlet me know what you think.â
âokay,â you say with a smile.Â
âand let me know if you need to take out anything,â he continues, âiâll wrap it up for you.â he leans forward and presses a kiss to your temple. âenjoy.â
âthank you, âsamu,â you tell him before he turns to leave.Â
he smiles back at you and heads back behind the bar.
atsumu has evidently forgotten about ordering, because his eyes shuttle back and forth between you two before nodding considerably. âso i take it things are going well?â
âyeah,â you admit, picking up an onigiri. âgoing really well, actually.â
âyouâve beenâŚâ atsumu searches for the word, âis it still called âdatingâ? you broke up. but⌠entertaining each otherâŚ?â
âdonât hurt yourself,â you joke. âbut yeah. letâs call it dating. and itâs going well, thanks for asking.â you take a bite of the onigiri.
âdoes he still have a chance?â atsumu asks, genuine curiosity on his face.
you chew thoughtfully as you look back at osamu, whoâs smiling at a customer. you remember that bright morning, when he helped you pack, helped you move into your friendâs apartment. when he cooked all that food, and you found it neatly packed away in a thermal bag that had a handwritten note, reminding you to eat well.
you remember the next day, when he showed up at your friendâs door, holding flowers and inviting you out to get some ice cream. you remember his messages, his calls, his check ins on you, littered across the days, asking you how you are or if youâre eating or if you need any food.
you could call him if you needed any help, if you needed anything at all.
but reality sets in when you think of how one phone call could be a mistake, it stops you from searching his name each time you pick up the phone.
in your mind, you see his bent form, his begging, his tears. you remember his smiles and his hugs and his âsee you laterâs, his gradually growing list of unbroken promises. you remember the effort, the time heâs putting into you, putting aside for you. you remember how hard he tries for you.
it's like everything is new again.
his eyes catch yours and he gives you a small wave, and you wave back, your stomach fluttering.
it's not new, you think. it's better.
you swallow your food. it's delicious.
âyeah,â you say softly, âhe does.â
#osamu x you#osamu x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu x reader#x reader#haikyuu fluff#hq fluff#haikyuu fic#haikyuu x reader fluff#đ â my writing#osamu miya x reader#miya osamu fluff#osamu angst#x reader angst#hq angst#haikyuu angst
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WILLIAMS FURNACE P323011 - Valve | HNKParts
#P323011#WilliamsFurnace#Furnace#GasValve#HnKParts#HomeAppliance#KitchenAppliance#Manufacturer Name:Williams-Furnace#Product Number:P323011#OEM Part Number:P323011#Looking for the best prices on OEM/Replacement Part#Valve for WILLIAMS FURNACE? You've come to the right place. Shop at HNKParts with same day shipping and 100% satisfaction guarantee!
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Relief
supersoldier!reader x lt ghost technicallly the 141 too but heâs the main culprit (part 4)
One Series Masterlist
cw: Reaper is readerâs callsign (backstory and meaning will be given at the bottom and thanks to @pythonmoth to help me with this :) ), nightmares, slight derealisation
pls lmk if u accidentally find any gendered terms for reader! this is supposed to be gender neutral
PREV NEXT
ââââ-
âLord, Ghost! Why do you think they donât want to speak up? Look at their face!â
Soap raises his voice, louder than youâve ever heard a sergeant before. Yet despite that, you watch in horror as Ghost shoves him out of his way, stalking even closer to you. The anger in his eyes is nothing short of fury, making fear spike in your heart and so the machines start beeping loudly, screaming in your ears. Theyâre not supposed to do that; your heart rate is supposed to keep steady outside of battle and serious situationsâyouâre breaking.
Wetness coats your cheeks as you scramble backwards, watching the terrifying skull mask grow closer and closer. You suppose youâve taken it for granted that you never had to worry about the rumours surrounding the mask, but now you understand what every enemy had felt when they came across him, worrying that if you even so blink heâd have your heart in his hands the second your eyes opened.
You suppose heâs talking, likely yelling more curses and insults at you but you can't hear any of it, nor Soapâs voice as he reaches for you, everything swirling into an incomprehensible blur. You have to blink, your vision blurry and the next second you open your eyes his hand is around your throat, forcing your eyes to blow wide and your own breath to clog in your throat. Everything is freezing; the walls are closing in and your entire body feels strange, like the world around you has tipped entirely. âYou devilââ
âReaper!â
Your hands clench at nothing but the cold flooring of the medical room youâre in, having fallen off of the bed altogether. The heart monitor beeps loudly, having been detached when you fell, also causing the iv drip to rip off, and leaving your bare arms feeling naked and raw. Gaz crouches before you, his hands like a furnace against your frozen body, trying to ease you. âWhat happened? Are you alright?â You do your best to nod quickly in response, a hiccup replacing the yes choked in your throat. Heâs still soothing you when heavy footsteps approach, though you know well enough that it isnt the ones you fearâwell, not that kind of fear anyway.
The Captain stands in the doorway, watching as Gaz pats your back and says reassuring words to your horror stricken face, the hot tears still curving over your cheeks and thawing the ice your hands feel like. Itâs not like you were afraid of him like you were with Ghost, no it was more of a⌠professional intimidation.
The first time you spoke to him was the day you first arrived at base, having been picked up by Ghost and then taken to meet the Captain. He didnât do much than tell you how to contact him, and a few words about the things youâd take part in whilst you worked alongside Ghost. Even so, you had figured immediately from the getgo that he wasnât a man to mess with, and so you avoided him as best you could. In your head, talking to him only occured when something went wrong and well, nothing should be going wrong with a weapon like you.
âIâll take it from here, Garrick.â His voice is low, but not harsh, and Gaz slowly stands, looking back at you one more time before he steps back. The Captain moves towards where you are on the ground, your back pressed against the small cupboard and your hands flat against the cold tiles. âIâm sorry i didnt come earlier.â Itâs the first thing he says, and he takes his hat off, making him look strange and yet nothing like the stern authority he represents, especially when his brows are furrowed.
âCaptainâ I-â Despite that, you still didnt want to be seen as weak before him. All you had done for the past three months would be for a waste if something as menial as the events of the past day caused you to crumble to pieces. You wish you could explain everything to him, beg him to believe you when you say this was all nothing. All you need is for him to walk away now, pretend he didnât see the visible distress in your face. Then maybe, just maybe, youâd be able to move past all of this and live your life as the weapon his team would wield proudly. âItâs- Iâm justââ
âNo.â
The word is short, simple and stern and yet somehow it has you stilling, every nerve frozen as you stare at him.
You shouldâve known that weapons don't get second chances, that the damaged soldier doesnât survive the battlefield. You shouldâve known he wouldnât care for some weak straggler, someone who broke apart from a few threats on their stupid birthday. Even if you had led each of his missions to a swift victory. Even if his days had been spent lighter, with more free time because there were just less things to worry about when you were the equivalent to ten soldiers. Even if he had written star reports about you, even going as far as to someday wish to permanently add you to the team. Even if you held every mission you went on by itâs strings and you kept them tautâ never letting go, not even for a second.
âWhyâd you always call me Captain, hm? You can call me John, you know.â His voice is relatively calmer, even if itâs the same tone heâs always used for you. He crouches and easily slips a hand behind your back, nudging you forward enough to allow him to pick you up and place you back onto the military bed.
âJohnâŚâ You test the word on your lips and he nods, your shaken up state not disregarded as his eyes rake over your trembling form. He quickly pulls them away to reattach the iv drip and the heart monitor before his hand carefully brushes through your hair from the front to the back of your head. âSee? Slides right off your tongue.â
You realise now that you still had been breathing quite heavily, with your hand gripping the front of your shirt. Everything just felt so tight, everything around was completely fake. Youâre used to having reservations about this, used to pulling away from any physical contact, or just staying blank faced. A defense mechanism perhaps, especially after you had been through torture training and they tried their best to prey on any possible weaknesses. The thought of that day makes you shiver, but still, you were too lost in it to care that you were breaking your own rules aswell now.
You look up as his thumb rubs absentmindedly at the soft skin of your cheek. Itâs one of the few places untouched by the horrors of experiments and severe training, still somehow retaining that childhood chubbiness, even if you had been trying to rid that for a long time. His lips have pulled into a small smile as he looks down at you, one that seems so fond youâre almost sure that perhaps heâs laughing at you since it couldnât nearly be possible. Then you see the guilt in his eyes, the way they flicker down every now and then, and when his hand grazes your bandaged arm, for the first time, you flinch.
âWhyânoâ Did..you ever want to tell me, at all?â
You nod quietly, and his breath returns, letting out in the form of a long exhale as he just nods quietly, nudging you up so he can sit on the edge of the small hospital bed. âWhat..made you choose not to?â
âI.. I didn't think it was that serious.. It seemed like a stupid threat.â You murmur out and despite how angry he is about the whole situation, he can't get mad at your mindset. It really isnât your fault.
âYou were scared though.â He points out, and you nod in response, his hand still rubbing your head gently. âIf itâs enough to cause you of all people fear, I think itâs pretty serious, kid.â
You swallow sharply, and he notices, letting out another sigh as his eyes fill with even more guilt. âIâm sorry..about your party. I shouldâve been there; Me and Ghost, and I should've bought all your things for you too.â Never in your life has anyone looked at you with guilt, especially not directed at you. âItâs fine.. I didnât really care for the party.â You mumble out, wiping the remaining tears that had coated your cheeks.âNoâ kid, i mean it. Iâll make it up to you; we can have that partyââ
âIt was a lie- I.. Iâve never celebrated my birthday.â You finally admit, the words blurting out as you stare down at your hands, fiddling with the blankets. âI just.. I thought if one of you came then they wouldnât have dared to try and harm me.â
John stills, staring at you so hard and his hands have frozen on your shoulder, the air growing silent. âI.. You just wanted us to protect you.â
Thereâs one thing you haven't been letting yourself think about. Maybe it was the fact you were so terrified by all the threats you received, maybe it was the fact that you wanted to believe you could be the one in controlâ maybe you just thought that after everything youâd been through you were allowed to feel that confident. Now that everythingâs over, your mind can no longer push the undoubted facts out.
Youâre a weapon, thatâs something youâve always known about yourself. But just like with a weapon, it can't fire on its ownâit needs someone to wield it. Ghost, for example; heâd give you commands on the battlefield, whether vague or specific. Those experiments ensured you listened to him, years of brainwashing forcing you into submission only to who was your commander. And so, despite everything you convinced yourself of the last few days, you werenât exactly all that feared, not by your comrades. Those who understood the nature of you knew you couldnât lay a hand against them, no matter how bad it got. You were powerless without a handler, as useless as a gun with no bullets.
Understanding lays heavy in Priceâs eyes, seeing the emotions that pass through you with every twitch of your hand and flicker of your lashes. You were just a kid damnit. Sure, you were well of age, but you never knew anything past military life. You were everything he fought against and yet you were still here, under his teamâs command. You don't argue when he wraps his arms around your back, pulling you in tight, and he doesn't argue when your face is pushed against his shoulder, wetting his thin shirt. âIâm sorry.â He murmurs, whispering it in your ear again and again, making sure you dont only know it, but you believe it. You believe he didnât mean it, and you believe heâll do everything to fix this.
âââââââââ-
10:23 pm, 3 days earlier
The tension in the room lays thick, the silence eating away at the two men sat infront of each other . Ghost was tense, muscles bulging as his fists clench at his lap, his eyes fixed onto the patterns on Priceâs wooden desk. Meanwhile, the latter sat with his hands clasped, both of them with heavy hearts. âReaper is in the infirmary; their arm took the brunt of the damage when they were protecting the fox.â He breathes out the words, suddenly wishing he has a cigar to fill the empty nausea in his throat.
Meanwhile, Ghost is only growing more furious, standing up way too fast before walking towards the cabinets. âThey couldâve got killed, Capt.â His voice is stern, filled with fury that Price cant discern if placed on you or the soldiers at hand. Even so, thereâs not much he can do, just sighing heavily.
âThe higher ups are furious; we canât afford for a failure in this program, and this sets us back months of research.â The glass sits in front of him, the golden liquid still inside and glowing in the low lamplight. Price steadies his words, watching as Ghost begins to pace back and forth. âThey want to send Reaper back to the Scientists, brainwash any leftover fear out of their head.â
Brainwash
That word alone makes him snap, slamming his hands on the deep mahogany. âYou cant be seriousâ We are not agreeing to thatâ!â
âI dont want to, Ghost.â Price reaches his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, his elbows digging into the table as he tries to still the migraine that threatens to form.âBut I can't deny them when we have nothing to disprove that Reaperâs state will only grow worse. We have to find out what happened, why they never told us about the threatââ
âSo we have to coax it out of them? What, wait for them to feel all comfortable to tell us why they didnât open their bloody mouths?!â He knows itâs more than that, he knows if it was that easy this never wouldâve even happened because if you only functioned by orders, you wouldn't even be a person in the first place. Yet still he argues, because he knows this is all his fault. He chose to disregard the signs, he chose to hate you, he chose to push you to limits you didnât even know you had. Itâs his fault and he can't handle it.
He just couldnât understand, why were you the one the team needed? It started off just testing if youâd handle the role you were destined for, a path you didn't know you were chosen to take once the time grew right. But then it grew deeper, a need to strain your limits, see if you could survive the cruelties he did. An abnormal urge and yet never too far, never over the edge. Just sheer of it.
Now look at what heâs done.
ââââââââ
4am. 5 days after the incident.
Another nightmare. You breathe heavily; for once no one is rushing to your room to check on your condition. Weirdly enough, Price had moved you to his barracks whilst he used a mattress hastily put together on the floor. Sure you had your own room, but with how frequent you managed to fall off of the bed because of recurring nightmares it was better to keep you here. Besides, this was far more comfortable than any sterile white hospital room which the rest of the 141 quickly realised hit a bad nerve with you. Your chest is tight, but it doesn't hurt, your lungs just feel pressured and yet youâre not short of oxygen either. Itâs a strange feeling to say the least, and you just feel so, so exhausted.
Slowly you creep out of the bed, the bandage still tight around your upper arm and for once youâre wearing pajamas rather than the uniform you usually end up sleeping in to stop wasting time on changing. Disgusting perhaps, efficient regardless. Your feet creep into soft slippers Gaz brought you, hand sinking into your signature fox plush that Soap made sure to tuck in beside you. Quietly you slip out of Priceâs room, the man snoring quietly on the mattress as you head down the corridor to the common room. Theyâve let you use it now, like itâs actually yours too and that you belong there. Even if you know you dont.
Itâs at the end of the hall, and you have to pass all their rooms to reach it. Gazâs first, quiet inside, then Soapâs where you can hear a soft rustleâ likely him rolling over. Your eyes linger on Ghostâs, the door shut and deadly silent. Ironically enough, he was sent on deployment the day after all the chaos went down, leaving radio silence on his part. It was strange, knowing your handler was around without you, going on a mission you wouldâve probably been on too. All because you hadnt spoken up.
But would things really have changed?
You break your gaze away from his door, slipping into the common room to pour yourself a glass of water. âHm? What ye doing up?â Soap is clearly tired, yawning all the way as he follows you over to the counter, pouring himself a glass of water aswell. âThirsty..â You mumble, deciding to not let the idea of the nightmare linger much longer. Although, it seems like Soapâs already figured you all out, an arm lazily around your shoulder as he chugs his glass. âNightmare, hm?â
You nod in response, and he lets out a small sigh, looking at you with softer eyes than usual. âDid ye tell Price?â He watches you shake your head, making him chuckle in response, a smile growing on his face as he lifts a hand up, ruffling your hair. â âCourse ye didn't, rascal.â Itâs one of the few times anyone has been playfully mad with you before, the first being a nurse which accidentally just further reinforced your fear of medical staff. You never let that show though; it only came to light because of the trauma of the day. Soap and Gaz had been teaching you a lot of things, first of them being actually having a normal breakfast. Youâve joined them every morning now, well at least when they can make it, and it feels great but strange. They had immediately denounced your notions of âearning your breakfastâ too, letting you have access to the actual food that was given at the normal breakfast times.
âYknow, me and Gaz were thinking..â He hums, one hand still carding through your hair whilst he looks curiously at your arm for any sign of further damage. âYou never celebrated in the end, did ya?â He watched you shake your head, teeth grazing your lips.
âNo, i didnât. I never wanted to though, iâm sure Price told you it was only a fib.â You respond, trying to downplay the situation. Itâs not like youâd take much joy in celebrating now, even after all these years it felt better to just let the notion of it die in the trenches with your innocence.
âI know, I know.â He sighs, taking both your glasses and placing them near the sink for later. âMaybe we could do something small? Bit of cake, a movie. Nothinâ more.â You just shrug and nod, not sure what people even really do for their birthdays, and he gives you a smile, a hand on your back to lead you down the hall again.
Youâre almost at the room when he stops you, his eyes almost locked onto you like heâs searching for something. âDo you wanna.. talk about the nightmare? It helps, I promise. You dont have to go in detail, but itâll be good to know what you keep dreaming about.â
You debate his offer, staring back at him just as curiously. He wouldn't be mad if you didn't, even though youâre pretty sure the entire team is just anxiously waiting for you to speak. For someone whose silenced most of the time, it sure is weird.
âIt was.. Ghost. I dream of when he yelled at me, except in my dreams he doesn't stop, he pushes you to the side and grabs me by my neck..â Itâs straightforward and to the point. Well, maybe a little too much because Soapâs eyes have widened, pity swirling deep in his pupils. âHe didntâ He was just angry that day, you know he wouldnât do that.. right?â
Thereâs a rustle inside the room behind you, Price having woken up by your talking outside. You step towards the door, unsure what to respond to Soapâs question. âIâŚI know, .â
You disappear back into the room again, the door quietly shutting behind you again, leaving him standing outside and very worried.
ââââââ
10am, the next day.
Gaz walks alongside you as you step through the forest, the morning air biting at your cheeks as he complains to you about whatever paperwork he had to finish last night. Youâve been at this for a while, the frosted leaves crunching beneath your boots and you dont feel the cold much thanks to his gloves.
âThrough here.â You know the way and yet you follow him through the forestry, down the path, and towards the cabin up ahead. The floor is trampled, tire marks from when you were rushed back with blood trailing down your arm. Even Gaz looks a little tense at the small splotches on the ground but chooses not to comment on it, taking your hand as the ground becomes a little more uneven.
âInside.â
He hums, unlocking the cabin door which has been tightly secured since the incident. You walk past him, stepping inside to hear an excited yip, the fox bundling towards you with joy. For once you smile out of relief, crouching down to pet the excitable creature that nips affectionately at your trousers. âGood to see you too.â You hum, hand running down his head and ears. Now that you can see it in the light, you realise theyâve cleaned it up properly, bandaged its dodgy leg and it looks noticeably happier.
The fox licks at your hands as you sit on the small bench, feeding it the occasional dried meat strips which it takes happily, tail swishing from side to side. Gaz sits beside you, one hand on the back of the bench and his arm grazing your shoulders.
âWe called the wildlife centre for him. Theyâll take him in the next few days, keep him safe and put him with some other foxes. Heâll be happier.â
Would you be happier though? When you look at the scrawny thing, all you really see is yourself. A known predator, a hated species, and yet just trying to survive like everyone else on this damn world.
âYouâre right, itâd be better for him.â
âââââââââ
Sleeping is increasingly difficult for once; usually youâre knocked out in seconds but today itâs like the concept of rest refuses you altogether. The reason behind it is Ghostâs return; you had heard the soft whispers between Soap and Gaz, the awkward tension as the day grew nearer. So you had resigned yourself to your room, left alone with your thoughts for the remainder of the day. However, now you were restless, unable to sit still with the threat looming down every corridor and through the vents. Your nails claw at the sheetsâ they feel sterile and uncomfortable no matter where you sleepâ and so you slide off the bed, forcing one foot in front of the other. You need a break.
Somehow they had left you without surveillance tonight, which isn't surprising since you had promised you wouldnât go out on your own. Oh well, you know two men who broke a promise to you. The air is cold as it blows on your face, slowly less frosty as winter begins to fade, and you walk past the track, planning to just walk through the other entrance and return to your room again. You wouldnât dare go back the way you cameâ not when Ghost is around now.
Itâs a rush of warmth when you reenter the building, the change making your fingertips tingle and your lashes flitter, mouth threatening to yawn. Thankfully, the hallways were clear, unlike your hazed mind. It was like swimming underwater, every thought swirling around and voices muffled by the water aboveâwait, voices? You pause infront of a door, immediately stilling when you recognise a voice too familiar.
âIâve been gone for two weeksâ how are they not stable by now?â You swallow, the roughness of the voice enough to make your teeth scrape against eachother nervously. Itâs him.
âReaperâs not doing well, itâs obviousââ
âSo what? Weâre just going to send them back? To those stupid scientists-â
You don't hear the rest, those words enough to make something in your brain snap. All this time youâve worked tirelessly, day and night, after every mission and every near death experience. All to be sent back where you came from, like what, some broken toy? The thought of it makes anger brim in your chest, a fury that tips the scales enough to make you actually want to break something. Your feet stumble and for some reason you're running, somewhere, anywhere. It wouldnât necessarily be a bad idea, a tempting one evenâ to actually lash out. Whatâs the point in anything if your life will be a full circle?
What is the point of all the pain if youâll only relive it again?
Change has to come, even if you grapple with the chains at your neck and leave rope burns on your ankles.
Youâll die trying either way.
âNo; we wont. Reaper isnât going anywhere, ever again.â Gaz speaks up, having just closed the door after seeing a glimpse of someone walking past. They really shouldn't leave any doors open for anyone to hear their conversation. âTheir performance outweighs the struggles. We have the time to make things right.â
Ghostâs expression hardens, listening to the words of his teams. Of course he knows what that meansâ heâs the one who has to make this right.
***************************************
NEXT CHAPTER buy me a coffee! Series Masterlist
CALL SIGN: REAPERâ Grim reapers dont choose who dies, theyâre told. The victims time has come, similar to how reader has never killed someone of their own accord, only through the orders another has given. Theyâre merely a tool.
Taglist:
@mellohimmku94 @rafaelacallinybbay @fasoaurore @starfish-sandwich @arael-asuka @pinkpickle @toxicgutz69 @pythonmoth @harmonycricket @sneezypandu @ctrlofurheart @ssc7514 @terrifiedanimegirl @rayrayyio @silas-aeiou @uhhevie @enfppuff @sirbonesly @nobodycanknoww @bitchyzombienacho @justdamnpeachy @harley101399 @w1theredr0se @whoisnthere @lexi2005 @nnsissys @el-salt @ttznlettt @thebumbqueen @thriving-n-jiving @fluffysmiko @vioxsoo @alex1011sdzfgh @honestlymassivetrash @defronix @eclipsedcherry @thatpersonnamedrook @mortem-writes @2bdamnedmadnesscombat @harley101399 @princessiris147 @taylorrrig
#simon ghost riley x reader#cod x reader#tf 141 x reader#tf 141 x you#gaz x reader#soap x reader#price x reader#call of duty x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#cod angst#simon riley x reader#simon riley angst#simon ghost x you#ghost x you#ghost x y/n#ghost x gender neutral reader
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inspired by a nate bargatze sketch
Eddieâs least favorite thing people say when they find out heâs gay and married to a man is when they ask who the âmanâ of their house is, becauseâŚitâs fucking stupid and wouldnât be funny even if it didnât rely on patriarchal bullshit that Eddie didnât buy into even before he and Steve had three daughters.
The thing is thoughâŚthere definitely is a man of their house, and itâs Steve.
And if Steve isnât home, itâs their oldest daughter, Moe.
Eddie knows this is true because thereâs someone coming to their house to work onâŚsomething. All Eddie caught when Steve brought it up was, âWeâve been in this house for almost twenty years. Iâd rather deal with it now than wait until itâs causing problems.â
So itâs either the roof, the water heater, or the furnace.
(He thinks).
Every once in a while Eddie gets frustrated enough about this to want to get more involved â he helped Wayne out with this shit all the time when he was a teenager, and he worked as a mechanic well into his twenties (up until he got his first book deal and was able to quit and write full-time). Itâs not that Eddie canât understand all that stuff â no, itâs Steve insisting that he take on all that kind of stuff in their life together so that Eddie didnât have to that did it, and now itâs been so long since he exercised that part of his brain that itâs basically gone dormant.
The nail in the coffin is when Steve says, âIf he shows up before I get back â do not engage. Get Moe. She knows what this is all about.â
She totally does, is the thing, so Eddie just replies, âGot it,â and prays that Steve gets home from the hardware store before the contractor arrives (is he a contractor? Eddie doesnât think he even knows what a contractor is).
Naturally, not even five minutes after Steve pulls out of the driveway, a dark blue van pulls in.
âAh, shit,â Eddie mumbles, and then he calls upstairs, âMoe. The guy Pop was talking about is here.â
Moe calls something incomprehensible back (hopefully itâs Iâll be down in a second) because by the looks of it this guy is already halfway to the front door.
Unfortunately for Eddie, Moe is not down in a second and he ends up in a conversation about water heaters withâŚnot a contractor, heâs pretty sure. A plumber, maybe? Doesnât matter â just a guy whoâs gonna fix â or maybe itâs replace? â their water heaterâŚfor some reason.
âSo whereâs the heater?â the not-contractor-maybe-plumber asks.
âUhhâŚâ Eddie hesitates, and thank Christ, Moe appears at the top of the stairs.
âBasement,â she says, âAnode rod was replaced three years ago but the rest of itâs been there since we moved here in â04.â
The guy launches into a whole water heater spiel, and Eddie realizes halfway through heâs not trying to engage with Moe at all. Heâs directing it all at Eddie as if Eddie is hearing anything more than Charlie Brown-esque phone call mumbling. He concludes with a question aboutâŚsomething related to tanks maybe? Or maybe it was tankless. Eddie has no idea. Moe answers it because she knows what the hell this guy is talking about, but still this asshole is looking at Eddie for confirmation.
âDude, I dunno why you're looking at me,â Eddie tells him, and then he points at Moe, âMy daughter works on airplanes. I write books. I'm telling you â you're better off listening to her.â
#moe does indeed work on airplanes at this time#after two years she decides itâs not challenging enough and goes to law school instead#eddie is terrified of her#steddie#livâs steddie dads verse#steddie dads#steve harrington#eddie munson
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Hey! I love your stories about Harvey, you write him incredibly well. Could you write one in which he is really sick but still goes to work, despite reader telling him that he deserves rest. So, at the firm, he starts getting worse and worse until mike or donna have to call you to take him home and look after him. You can add anything you wish like fever, vomiting and so on. Also, make it as long as you wish/can. Thank you for reading!
A/N: Thank you for the sweet words! Here's your request I hope you like, if you'd like any adjustments, I can always tweak things! :) Down for the Count Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader Warnings: Illness/fever, quick mention of a razor Word Count: 903
Harvey Specter was a force of nature. He didnât slow down, didnât take breaks, and definitely didnât let something as trivial as a fever keep him from working.
Thatâs why, when he woke up feeling like heâd been hit by a freight train, he ignored it.
You, however, did not.
"Harvey, you have to stay home today," you said, arms crossed as you leaned in the doorway of the bathroom, watching him sluggishly shave. His movements lacked their usual finesseâthere was hesitation in the way he dragged the blade across his jaw, and the hand bracing himself against the sink was gripping way too tight.
"Canât," he muttered, rinsing the razor under the water. "Iâve got a meeting with a client, and I need to prep Mike for his deposition."
"Mike can handle it. And Donna exists for a reason. She can reschedule the client meeting."
Harvey let out a slow breath through his nose, shoulders visibly tensing. "Iâm fine."
You stepped forward and pressed the back of your hand to his forehead before he could swat you away. His skin was burning.
"Yeah," you scoffed. "Youâre totally fine. Just radiating heat like a damn furnace."
Harvey sighed, tilting his head back slightly as if it would somehow lessen his exhaustion. "I donât have time for this."
You softened. "Harvey, listen to me," you murmured, touching his wrist. "You never take a day off. If anyone deserves to rest, itâs you."
For a second, it looked like he might give in. His jaw clenched, his shoulders sagging. But then, he shook his head.
"Iâm going to work."
And that was that. He finished getting ready at half his usual speed, but still managed to leave with the same smug parting kiss to your forehead. You stood in the doorway watching him go, arms crossed, waiting for the inevitable.
Because no matter how stubborn Harvey Specter was, he was still human.
And he would crash.
By noon, Donna called.
"Your idiot is going to drop dead on the office floor if you donât come and knock some sense into him."
You grabbed your coat immediately.
When you walked into Pearson Specter Litt, the atmosphere felt different. It wasnât the usual buzz of high-powered attorneys running the showâit was quieter.
You didnât even need to ask where Harvey was. You just headed straight for his office.
Mike was standing outside, arms crossed, shaking his head. "Heâs bad."
"How bad?"
Mike sighed. "He can barely sit up straight. Heâs all flushed, and he keeps rubbing his temples like heâs trying to force his brain to work. Heâs already shut Donna out twice, which never happens."
You didnât wait for more information. Pushing open the door, you found Harvey sitting behind his desk, head in one hand, the other gripping a pen like it was the only thing keeping him upright. The usual sharpness in his expression was dulled, replaced with pure exhaustion.
"Hey," you murmured.
His tired eyes flickered up to meet yours.
For a moment, he just stared. Then, his lips quirked into something resembling a smirk. "Took you long enough."
You raised an eyebrow. "I shouldnât have had to come at all."
He exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face. "I just needâ"
"You need to go home, Harvey," you interrupted softly, stepping closer. "Let me take you home."
He sighed, looking like he might argue. But as if the universe was trying to make a point, a harsh cough wracked his body, shaking his frame. His grip on his pen slackened, and his breathing grew labored.
You didnât wait for his permission.
"Alright, thatâs it." You moved beside him, placing a steadying hand on his back.
Harvey made a weak noise of protest as you coaxed him up. "Donâtâmâfine."
"Sure you are."
The second he was on his feet, his balance wavered. His usually sure footing faltered, and he swayed into you.
Mike stepped forward instinctively, but you shook your head. "Iâve got him."
Harvey let out a low breath, his forehead lightly pressing against your shoulder for just a second before he straightened.
He didnât fight you after that.
By the time you got him home, he was running hotter than before. His skin was damp with fever sweat, and his breathing had grown uneven. You guided him straight to the couch, where he sat heavily, immediately leaning back.
You crouched in front of him, brushing a few strands of damp hair from his forehead.
"Harvey," you murmured. "How bad is it?"
His eyelids fluttered. "Bad."
You sighed, pressing the back of your hand against his cheek. His fever was climbing.
"Stay here," you said gently, standing up. "Iâll be right back."
You grabbed a cool washcloth, some medicine, and a glass of water. When you returned, Harvey had slumped further into the cushions, his head tilted back, his breathing shallow.
You knelt beside him, pressing the damp cloth to his forehead.
"Take this," you murmured, handing him the medicine and water.
He took it without argumentâprobably too exhausted to fight you.
You let out a quiet breath, brushing your fingers over his temple. His eyes cracked open slightly, gazing at you through fever-hazed exhaustion.
"Youâre not gonna let me live this down, are you?" he muttered.
You smiled softly. "Not a chance."
His lips twitched, just barely.
"Sleep, Harvey," you whispered. "Iâve got you."
And this time, he didnât argue.
#harvey specter#harvey specter fanfic#harvey specter imagine#harvey specter x reader#harvey specter x you#suits imagine#suits series#suits tv
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sick w/ addams!matz
whilst iâm busy writing part two to opposites attract, here is just some silly fluffy stuff!!
ââââââââââââââ
youâre sick. flu, by the feel of it. with your heavy head, sniffly nose and permanent fatigue, thereâs very little else it could be. itâs unfortunate, but nothing you couldnât deal with by yourself. a few days bed rest and youâll be fine.
your lovers donât quite agree. all it took was for the word âfeverâ to leave your lips and suddenly all hell broke loose. you shouldâve known that the second you brought it up to seonghwa it would be blown entirely out of proportion. the man is level headed about a lot of things; you are not one of them.
it had been a military operation with him the second the word âfeverâ dropped from your lips. for three days now, youâve been under strict instruction to not leave their bed, trapped there like a prisoner with hongjoong watching over you like a hawk. if you step a toe out of line, you get a sharp slap to the back of your thigh and a quick scolding. its hardly enough to keep you in check, especially when your regular punishments are so much heavier, but hongjoong is also under his husbands strict instructions to be as gentle with you as humanly possible.
itâs boring.
of course, you love talking with hongjoong when he has the time to join you in bed, but he still has to work. laying for hours at a time just staring at the back of your daddyâs head as he writes letters to his clients is nothing short of dull. he expects you to stay silent so he can concentrate on what heâs writing. you thought it to be a silly rule until you disobeyed on the first day and he moved himself and his work to the armchair out in the hallway; he could still listen in for any sign of you trying to escape the confines of their bed, but he could finally get enough peace and quiet to concentrate on his work. those few hours were so boring that you quickly made the decision that you could manage silence for a few hours if it meant that you werenât alone.
sometimes seonghwa would come and visit you in the room, although with you being sick, you found that he had far less free time than usual. in between working in the greenhouse and cooking up cold remedies in the kitchen, he found that he actually got to spend very little time by your side. he trusted hongjoong to follow his very specific instructions on how to take care of you (make sure youâre drinking fluids, make sure youâre always warm, replace the cloth on your head every 1-2 hours) but that doesnât mean he doesnât want to be more active in your care routine himself.
its the morning of the 3rd day than seonghwa finds his wish coming to fruition, and unfortunately his time being stretched even thinner. of course, he doesnât blame hongjoong for having to leave the house for workâantiquities donât source themselves, after allâbut he canât help but feel a little stressed with the notion of adding âcaring for darlingâ onto his already long list of tasks. from what heâs heard from hongjoong, you still like to push your luck even when your head feels like a furnace and youâre coughing your lungs up. he hardly has the time to guard you like hongjoong does, so as he tucks your still sleeping body into the almost empty bed, he decides that heâll just have to hope that maybe today youâll see sense and behave. itâs a long shot, but heâll just have to trust you for today.
ten minutes later, he finds that trust being broken when he hears a bump from the bedroom. he sighs, closing his eyes in frustration as the sound of a door creaking open echos through the house. the slapping of bare feet against a slick wooden floor soon follows and before he knows it, youâre coming down the stairs. itâs a good job that seonghwa isnât an angry person, finding it an ugly emotion that doesnât reflect well on anyone. youâd be in for a hellish day otherwise.
âyouâre supposed to stay in bed, little lamb,â he hums as you show your face in the door to his greenhouse. you look wide eyed and bewildered, your brain still clearly muddled by sleep. itâs cute, and he finds himself smiling though his annoyance. you hobble towards him wrapped in the black knitted bedspread heâd lay over you not moments before, and he finds himself unable to control the chuckle that bubbles up within him. he lays the watering can down on the table and spreads his arms for you to topple into. âtell me why youâre flaunting my rules so carelessly, darling.â
you bask in his warmth for just a second, feeling safe and happy in his lithe arms. heâs so much gentler with you than hongjoong is; even when youâre sick your daddy likes to manhandle you to be exactly where he wants. itâs not like youâre complaining, though. you like the way it makes you feel when he treats you so helplessly.
âwoke up alone,â you mutter into seonghwaâs chest. the lace of his blouse was scratchy against your too-hot face, but you canât seem to pull yourself away from him. you just want him close, even if you have to sacrifice your comfort for the sake of it. âhongjoong wasnât there and you werenât there and iâm lonely.â
any frustration that resided within seonghwa slowly melts away with your confession. youâre just too sweet for him to stay upset with, especially when youâre so dopey and reliant on them.
âhongjoong had to work, lamb; your daddy canât stay at home all the time,â soft fingers lace themselves into your hair, gently petting you like youâre some sort of kitten. he supposes you do rather look like one when youâre wearing your collar. youâre just so sweet and submissive when you sit by seonghwaâs feet at he puts it on for you. itâs a shame youâre too sick for that right now, your skin too sensitive and the collar too tickly; it would only serve to irritate you. âand you know that i have to work as well. i have to take care of the house, the plants and cook an unheavenly amount of chicken noodle soup for you. i wish i could stay in bed with you, but i canât.â
and you understand, of course you do, but that doesnât mean youâre happy with it. you want hongjoong to be home, and you want seonghwa to have less to do. you want to be stuffed between them from the moment you wake up to the moment you sleep, doted on and cared for by your two lovers. the notion of that not being possible just doesnât seem to compute in your fever-addled brain. you whimper into seonghwaâs chest.
âoh, my precious little lamb,â he coos, resting his chin on top of your head, âhongjoong will be home in a few hours, and iâm sure i can take a short break from my errands at some point. itâs hardly like youâre going to be alone for long.â
âtake a break now,â you insist, âjust for a little whileâŚâ
itâs a trap, seonghwa knows that. the moment he crawls back into bed with you, youâll find some way of making him stay there until hongjoong gets home. either youâll crawl onto him and refuse to let him go, or youâll use your adorable charm to manipulate him into staying with you. still, he canât find himself able to say no to you. he hums in agreement and pulls away from you slightly.
âokay, little lamb,â your face lights up and he grins. even with your sweaty forehead and slightly grey skin, he canât help but think youâre the prettiest creature to walk the earth, âlead the way.â
#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez oneshot#ateez fluff#ateez scenarios#matz x reader#hongjoong x reader#seonghwa x reader#poly ateez#poly ateez x reader#opposites attract universe#hongjoong fluff#seonghwa fluff
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Heating Repair Near Me
Heating Repair Near Me: Finding the Best Services for Your Home When the temperatures drop and the chill of winter sets in, having a reliable heating system is essential for maintaining a warm and comfortable home. Finding the best heating repair services near you ensures that any issues with your heating system are addressed promptly and efficiently, preventing discomfort and potential damageâŚ
#Certified heating technicians#clogged air filters#emergency furnace repair#energy-efficient heating#Furnace maintenance#furnace repair services#furnace replacement parts#furnace troubleshooting#Heating repair near me#heating system diagnostics.#Heating system maintenance#heating system performance#heating system repair#home#home heating repair#home-maintenance#hvac#HVAC emergency services#HVAC repair services#local furnace repair#local heating repair services#maintenance#real-estate#reliable heating repair#thermostat issues
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bad news friends.
I need a new furnace
Furnace guy is here and he has to do a 1k repair before he can even finish diagnosing the issue.
I'm gonna puke actually
#to be fair I might not *need* a new furnace#it's just that as soon as he replaced the 1 part the very next part in the sequence (also like $800) was also borked#the tech thought there was a possibility of widespread water damage and further component failure#so he suggested I get an estimate for a replacement furnace#rather than potentially ship of theseus-ing my current furnace#there is a possibility that's just trying to upsell me#but he had a kind face so I am choosing to trust#also it's par for the course for something in this house to work perfectly until#catastrophic failure that makes trades professionals wonder how it was working at all
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blanket hog
tim drake x reader â dc / batfam
[gn!reader]
summary: youâd never been close with tim, but now you were sharing a bedâtoo close. far too closeâand you didnât know what to think
warnings: light swearing, sharing a bed (ONE BED TROPE MY BELOVED), idiots in love, kissing, is my writing good? idk anymore
word count: 1.7k
(this was meant to be in two parts but itâs way shorter than i thought it was when i was writing it lmao. anyway happy birthday tim drake!)
âââââââââââââ
if tim drake was a magnet you were his polar opposite. that much you knew for sure. rather than draw you in, he repelled you backwards, unfazed by his ceo smile and somehow perfect hair. it was his unnerving ice-blue eyes that seemed to look through you and his fumbling words that pushed you back. there was something in his stare, and it made your cheeks burn and your heart race, and you didnât like it. if you couldâve stayed away, you would have.
but fate was a fickle thing.
and when blankets were hogged, youâd fight tooth and nail not to freeze to death.
it had been an easy decision to share the queen-sized bed. the hotel room was smallâa bed, a dresser and a bathroom aloneâand none of his siblings had wanted to share with him. steph and cass took the only other double room in the small-town in, leaving you with no choice. there wasnât even any floor space.
âwe can take shifts?â tim had suggested, his cheeks uncharacteristically pink.
youâd told him not to be ridiculous, and then youâd had to practically tackle him into the bed to get him to sleep at all.
finally, the room was filled with only soft breathing as you drifted off, warm and cosy in the surprisingly soft sheets.
and then you were cold.
what?
your sleepy eyes blinked open and you frowned. did someone open the window? your sleep addled brain hadnât put the pieces together just yet. your fingers tightened around the blankets you had pulled against yourâah. that was the issue.
you frowned and rolled onto your back, reaching around to find them. where did they go?
there! you connected. how did they get there? no matter.
you pulled the blankets loosely, but they barely budged. you frowned again. what the hell?
you blinked in the darkness, peering at the shape in the bed next to you. it came rushing back. tim drake. typical. you had to be bunking with the blanket hog.
you pulled the blankets harder, to no avail. you gritted your teeth and dug your heels in (metaphorically), pulling with all your might and hoping they wouldnât rip. sure, bruce could pay for the replacement, but youâd feel bad.
finally, the blankets came wrapping around you. you rolled back onto your side as you pulled them tight to your chin. then an arm was around your waist. then there was a warm breath on the back of your neck.
oh.
timâs chest was pressed loosely against your back. he was still gripping the blankets too, obviously dragged by your pulling. you shifted for a moment, but his grip on you only tightened. fabulous.
your heart racedâwhy did your heart race?âand your palms sweated slightly. it wasnât hot, but you felt all warm and fuzzy, like youâd just had a big cup of tea. it was tim. even if he wasnât like a furnace, you realised heâd warm you like this. finally, you let yourself relax into his embrace.
youâd deal with that in the morning, and just hope no one came in before you woke up.
the morning was warm and cosy. you didnât think too hard about why. there was sunlight streaming onto your body through a gap in the curtains and the blankets were warm andâwhat was that?
it felt like a breath of air against your skin. you opened your eyes and immediately slammed them closed again.
oh. right.
tim.
throughout the night, youâd clearly managed to roll in his grip until you were face to face. his arm was loose around your waist, hand tangled slightly in your sleep shirt. your legs were tangled with his. your stomach lurched with something unknown, something you couldnât quite put your finger on.
you opened your eyes slowly, tentatively, andâ
oh.
you were thinking that a lot lately.
it was rare to see tim without a tense frown on his face. it aged him, made him look more stressed and intense. but now⌠his face was soft with sleep, lips parted just so. oh god, your stomach fluttered.
maybe that was why youâd never been able to be comfortable around him. were youâŚ? no. surely not, right?
as if your thoughts were probing into his dreams, tim stirred slightly. the arm around your body tightened for a second, and his eyebrows twitched. your breath caught in your throat and you snapped your eyes closed again. you really didnât want to look at him when he woke up, but a soft sigh came from his lips, then a gasp, and he retracted his arm like heâd been burned. you felt instantly colder as he jerked backwards.
you looked up him as he sat up abruptly.
he had a shell-shocked look on his face. scandalised, even. his eyesâstartlingly blueâmet yours. âiâm so sorry.â his voice was soft and rough with sleep.
you had to swallow tightly before you could reply. âitâs okay.â
âi donâtââ he shook his head and rubbed his face. âi shouldnât haveââ
âyou kinda grabbed me when i pulled the blankets back last night.â you admitted quietly, sitting up too.
âoh.â he said dumbly.
âyeah. blanket hog.â you shot him a small smile.
that seemed to break the tension. he smiled back. âshut up.â
âdoes koala fit better?â
he groaned and flopped back down onto the bed, covering his face. âi said i was sorry.â
âand i said it was okay.â you shot back immediately, watching him with a small smile. you didnât quite know what it meant, but you did know that there was something different between you now. it was like youâd broken through the previous tension to discover something more. worse? better? you didnât know yet.
he opened his eyes and peered at you between his fingers. âyouâre not upset?â
âwhy would i be? it was cold. youâre like a furnace.â you shrugged, deciding to play it cool.
he sat up again and pushed his hands through his hair. it fell back in front of his face. your fingers twitched like you wanted to push it back again. âright. yeah.â
you found yourself studying his face. when he wasnât looking stressed or exhausted, he was actually really pretty, you realised. obviously, you objectively knew thatâthe tabloids did a great job of describing how pretty he was (not that you read them, no way)âbut youâd never taken the time to see it yourself.
he shifted under your gaze. âwhat?â
ânothing.â you said sharply, turning your head away. you leaned back against the rickety headboard. he followed suit.
there was silence for a long while. you fiddled with your fingers, not looking at him. you could feel his gaze on your profile, probing and studying and examining you like you were a piece of evidence at a crime scene.
finally, you let your eyes dart back to him.
he wasnât looking at your eyes.
there was a rush that went through you as his piercing eyes flashed between your lips and eyes. your breath caught and you looked away again, before you could do anything stupid.
âwhy donât you like me?â he asked softly. âi mean⌠you act like you hate me. why?â
âi donât hate you.â you said softly.
he scoffed. âyeah, i know that. why do you act like you hate me?â
you were silent for a moment. you could feel timâs gaze on your face again. âi donât know. i think itâs becauseâŚâ you swallowed your pride. âyou always look like you want to say something to me, but you never do. i think i felt like you didnât like me.â
âi do.â he said in a rush, the words spilling out of him. âi do like you. i donât know why i canât seem to talk to you like a normal person, but i justâŚâ
you looked over at him with a small smile. âyouâre doing a pretty good job right now, for a boa constrictor.â
he groaned and laughed a little, shaking his head. âyouâre terrible.â
âseriously i think you cut off my circulation.â
âvery funny.â
âiâll sue you for my medical bills when i have to amputate from the lack of blood flow.â
âiâll pay them anyway.â his voice was soft. it sounded like a confession.
your heart fluttered. âso you admit guilt?â
he nodded slightly. his eyes werenât so piercing in the warm dimness of the hotel room. they were warmer, softer, more gentle. or maybe that was just the way he was looking at you. âand iâd do it again.â
yesterday, you would have laughed at him and kept joking. today⌠you bit down a smile. âi think iâd allow that.â
he didnât hide his smile. âyeah?â
you let yours show a little too. âyeah, i guess.â
âand if i were to maybe kiss you? would you allow that?â he asked softly, barely above a whisper. his eyes dropped to your lips again.
your heart climbed into your throat and did a little dance. you nodded. âyeah, i suppose i could allow that.â
for a moment, you wondered if this was a good idea. if this would backfire on you. if this would result in pain and loss and not to mention hours of teasing from steph about getting her âsloppy secondsâ. if this would end terribly and ruin your entire dynamic with the bats, who youâd only just started working with.
and then timâs lips were on yours and your mind went blissfully blank.
you sighed into the kiss, your hand coming up to his chest.
the kiss was brief, but as his lips pulled away from yours, your hand tightened on the collar of his shirt and pulled him back to you.
after all that time not understanding what these feelings were, you finally got why your cheeks burned and your heart raced and why he could never talk properly around you.
god, it all made sense, and his fingers in your hair and cupping your jaw were exactly where they were meant to be. the knock on the door only drew you back to reality for a moment before his lips were on yours again, and again, and again, and you realised you could stay there for a lifetime. youâd be happy to.
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Honestly Iâd beg for prompt 4. Is Tav the one in bed? Whatâs the vibe lol
BG3 x GN!Reader : âStay in Bed, Please?â
I try to make the vibe a little bit different for all of them. There are certain characters who definitely sleep later and certain ones that are consistently up before sunrise.
Featuring Shadowheart, Laeâzel, Karlach, Minthara, and Jaheira
Iâm really feeling this prompt right now, as it is impossible to get out of bed and go to work so early when the weather is so cold and the bed is so warm.
Shadowheart
You really do try and make as quiet an exit as possible. Shadowheart is a light sleeper.
Regardless, you donât even make it off the mattress before you hear her precious little whine.
She turns over, sleepy eyes barely opened, looking into yours. Her hair is down and you almost giggle as it covers large parts of her face. âStay in bed, please?â
Itâs a tempting offer, you must admit. But you promised Laeâzel youâd train with her this morning.
You kiss her on the forehead and tuck her back into the blankets. âGo back to sleep, princess. I have to go.â
âMy lady gives us a few more hours of her precious moonlight. You would take her gift for granted?â She teases, still not satisfied with your answer.
You roll your eyes and chuckle. âWell, I suppose I donât want to upset your goddess.â
âThen you best crawl your way back under these blankets, lest you face her wrath.â She lifts the blankets, beckoning you back underneath.
You sigh, curling up back under the sheets. Looks like Laeâzel will be training alone this morning.
Shadowheart curls up into your chest. You feel the smug little smile grow on her face.
Laeâzel
Beg and whine as you wish, Laeâzel is not staying in bed.
Sheâs got shit to do, people to kill, laps to run.
Sheâs always up before you are. She sees the time as crucial training hours. By the time everyone else is up sheâs already ready to go.
Some mornings sheâll have you get up with her. She has some really interesting of waking you up though.
Most of the time she just stares at you and slowly moves her face closer to yours until you finally stir.
As much as you love her you explain that awaking to someone bent over staring at you isnât your ideal morning.
Her other methods include holding a knife to your throat, or pouring water onto your face.
One day youâll learn the importance of these crucial morning hours.
Karlach
It isnât impossible to sneak out of bed with Karlach, as long as youâre quiet and you replace your place in her arms with a carefully arranged Clive.
You think youâve succeeded, lacing up your boots sitting on the edge of the bed⌠until you feel a tail curl around your waist.
You gently stroke the tail, coaxing her into letting you go. It only makes her tighten her grip and pull you closer.
âI know youâre not about to try and sneak out of here before the bloody sunrise,â she mumbles groggily.
As she pulls you closer to her body, you feel the warmth radiating off of her.
How could anyone be expected to subject themselves to freezing winter morning when they have a comfy furnace of a girlfriend begging them to stay in bed?
You sigh, kicking off your half-laced boots and burying yourself back into her embrace.
She yawns and stretches, pulling you back against her chest as she relaxes.
You used to be a morning person, but gods be damned if youâre ever going to crawl out of bed before sunrise again when this is the alternative.
Minthara
Minthara only trances for a couple of hours, so itâs very rare that you get to spend time sleeping, cuddled up to her.
She manages to sneak out of bed impossibly early, and settle down across the room to read a book by candlelight.
She hardly notices when you get up, all groggy and still wrapped in blankets and ask her to come back to bed.
âYou can bring your candle and your book and whatever. Itâs just so empty over there without you.â
She stares at you a moment before closing the book and grabbing the candle.
You smile and jump back into bed. You were honestly kinda shocked that it worked.
Minthara sat against the headboard, allowing you to rest your head against her stomach and wrap your arms around her thighs. She rested the book on your back and continued reading.
You feel safer and more comfortable than ever as you drift back to sleep. Maybe if you ask really nicely, sheâd let you do this more often.
Jaheira
You manage to catch Jaheira before she can get out of bed. You wrap your arms around her, clinging to her and preventing her escape.
âI must go cub, the sun is rising. But you may rest for a little while longer.â
You know she would not put up with your whining, and sheâd probably make you get up now if you started. Still, you couldnât help but at least try to plead your case.
âJust a few more minutes?â You ask, looking up at her with the most endearing eyes you can muster. You keep your mouth and nose buried in her stomach.
She smiles and strokes your hair. How is she supposed to resist that precious little face?
âA little while longer and you get up with me,â she bargained.
âDeal,â you agreed, pulling her back into bed. It was no fun to be in bed without her anyway.
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#bg3 tav#bg3 minthara#minthara#karlach#minthara x reader#minthara x tav#bg3 karlach#karlach x reader#shadowheart x reader#bg3 shadowheart#shadowheart x tav#shadowheart#laeâzel x tav#laezel x reader#bg3 lae'zel#tav x laeâzel#lae'zel#jaheira x reader#jaheira x tav#bg3 jaheira#jaheira#bg3 x reader#bg3 x you#bg3 x tav
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Getting rid of things is harder than you'd think. Sometimes it's more work than it's worth, as it was so many years ago. When my landlord replaced the furnace in my house, he had to run a different kind of intake pipe to the other side of the basement. What did he do with the old one? Just kinda taped it up and shoved it off into the corner, as you do.
There's no reason to remove old parts from a house, really. As long as it's not getting in the way, it's less effort just to leave it alone. It's not like the house is going to the drag strip on Friday evening and has to cut out as much weight as possible. Just be chill about it, and spend the time you'd otherwise spend swearing in order to clear out five feet of unusable ceiling space watching TV.
This idea has some true merit to it. Unfortunately in my case, he forgot to remember that the other side of the intake pipe was also connected to something: the outside fucking world. Out there, it can safely be said, is Nature Herself, including many little denizens and friends. Even with the intake grate present, some of those little denizens had used the pipe to build a new home in my home.
I first noticed that I would hear an intense buzzing from time to time while throwing some old differentials in the basement storage room, where the old intake pipe runs through the ceiling. Strange, I thought. Must be the wind. Soon, it was getting louder. I noticed that the pipe was beginning to sag under some kind of weight, its outer shell deforming.
"Hmm," I thought, and hit it with a stick. Very angry buzzing happened, and the pipe began to vibrate in the ceiling. I considered hitting the pipe with the stick again, more out of an urge to confirm for myself the impending horror than anything else. My senses returning, I decided it would be best for everyone to simply leave the angry insulation-and-plastic tube full of bees alone for now.
I'm happy to announce to you that my friend, Beekeeper Bethany, dropped by to steal my tube full of bees. Did she take the tube with her? Absolutely not. That shit is too much like work. I'll probably get around to removing it one of these days, or put a cap on it or something. Winter's coming, that'll take care of the whole problem.
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This fic is for @enhaxhypen (I hope you donât mind me tagging you and I hope you like it)



Biker jungwon
The night air is thick with the smell of tar and gasoline as you swing your leg over Jungwonâs red and black motorcycle. Headlamp off, Your leather jacket creaks softly as you settle behind him, thighs pressed to his hips. His engine purrs like a predator at rest, but you know heâs anything but calm.
His gloved hand slips around your waist, fingers splaying under your ribcage, pulling you flush against his scorching back. You feel the heat through your own leather his body a furnace you crave. âHold tight,â he whispers against your ear, voice low and rough.
When he kills the engine, silence crashes in. You turn in his arms helmeted head to bare neck. He tips your chin up with a calloused thumb. âYouâre mine tonight,â he says, eyes dark beneath his visor when he lifts it. His stubble grazes your cheek as he leans in.
One arm wraps around your back as the other yanks your zippered leather pants down in a single, bold motion. The cool breeze snaps at your exposed hips, and you gasp. His fingertips trace from your hipbone down to the curve of your ass, then slide under the lace of your panties, tugging them aside.
He presses a single, flat kiss to the top of your thigh right where the metal meets flesh before dropping to his knees on the rough asphalt. Your fingers dig into his worn denim, tugging him closer. His mouth opens on your inner thigh with a wet, hungry sound, tongue flicking long strokes that send shivers racing up your spine.
You arch, heel pressing against his shoulder blade as he parts your lips with one hand and dives in. His tongue explores you like a map triangles and circles, teasing the nub of your clit, then plunging deep inside of you. You whine, your hips rocking involuntarily. When he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard, you shudder, voice lost in a raw moan.
His free hand snakes to your back, unzipping your jacket so it falls to the ground. Jungwonâs mouth never leaves your center as he presses two fingers inside you, curling to brush your G-spot. Every stroke matches the rhythm of his tongue. Your world narrows to the feel of him wet, warm, relentless.
When youâre finally trembling on the edge, he pulls back with a pop, slick fingers glistening. He stands, yanks off his own leather vest and jeans, revealing his hard, glistening cock. He spits onto his palm and rubs the slick over his length, then positions you against the bikeâs cool tank, legs spread open, back arching, hands braced on the polished metal.
He lines up, heavy base pressing at your entrance, and pushes it in all at once. You gasp, nails scraping the tank as he goes deeper inside of you. For a second he stays buried, just you two, the bike, and the night.
Then he pulls out and slam thrusts back in, a brutal, bone-deep rhythm. The engineâs silence is replaced by the slap of leather and flesh, the echo of your moans, the hiss of the nightâs traffic. One hand grips your hip, the other finds your throat his grip is firm but controlled and his voice is a whisper: âSay my name.â
âJ-Jungwon,â you pant, He groans and accelerates long, powerful thrusts that press your breasts against the tankâs curve, one hand fumbling for your lace bralette and yanking it aside so he can knead your nipple, thumb rolling until it pebbles.
Your vision spins as you near your release. He senses it, he drags one thumb down to your clit in vicious circles. You cry out, back arching, body trembling as you shatter around him, muscles clenching in frantic spasms. He doesnât slow down instead, he leans forward, mouth at your ear: âCome again for me.â
And you do, hitting a second, hotter peak with your nails digging into his shoulders. He follows, hips stuttering, roaring as he spills deep inside you,warm, pulsing, claiming.
After a final, shuddering kiss against your neck, he pulls away and collapses beside you on the bike seat. You slide down into his arms, both of you slick with sweat and gasoline residue, chests heaving.
He wraps you in his arms, pressing a final kiss to your forehead. âNext ride,â he murmurs with a lazy smile, âweâre taking the highway.â
You close your eyes, fingers tracing the scuffed leather of his jacket, already craving the wind in your hair and his body once more.
#enhypen#yang jungwon#nishimura riki#lee heeseung#sim jaeyun#smut#kim sunoo#park jongseong#park sunghoon#enhypen scenarios#biker jungwon#jungwon smut#jungwon hard thoughts
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@hermitshell first off, love your drawings, second off, this ended up being uh⌠a little long for a ficlet. And by long I mean itâs 2 thousand words. I wrote a fic not a ficlet. Because I love the Nosey Neighbors. Oops.
BigB couldnât find his teammate anywhere. It wasnât the weirdest thing, Pearl had the same tendency to wander off and do her own thing that he did. Part of what made their partnership work was that neither of them insisted on staying together, and neither of them really questioned what the other was planning on doing unless they were asked to go along. She had an uncanny sense for knowing where he was anyways, which made him feel like she might be following him sometimes. Normally, he would find it a little grating to have a teammate that close by, but it was something he was grateful for after the incident with Jimmy.
In this kind of downpour, BigB just wanted to be sure that Pearl was okay, and not caught out in it. She could take care of herself, but even if he wasnât always the most reliable teammate in other series he still knew that a good teammate keeps the other safe. He had done his best in alliances before, even if they were temporary or if he hadnât been entirely contained to one. Cleoâs warning from the beginning of the series for Pearl stung, even if he had shrugged it off. And Pearl was different anyways. Maybe it was the space she gave him, maybe it was some guilt left from what happened at the Box, but she was easy to want to be loyal to. Easy to care about and to want to keep safe. She did the same for him, he knew. Her insistence on getting him the win despite his own ambivalence towards the idea proved it.
Once he was back in the tower, he quickly headed up the ladder. The bottom floor with itâs tall stone walls was drafty and cold, water seeping in from the door and into the gravel to create mud. Somewhere, deep below the ground, was Pearlâs cat. It would live past any of them down there.
Their bedroom was far warmer and far better insulated despite the open windows. He shut them quickly anyways, cursing the fact that they hadnât seen the rain coming this morning. The furnace was going in the corner, smelting up some iron. Pearl had to be around here somewhere then, and had probably just gotten back from a mining trip. The furnaceâs heat was welcome as BigB untied his bandana and took off his shirt, replacing the shirt with his normal blue button up and placing the wet clothes by the furnace to dry. His own iron gear came off, the metal freezing cold from his walk.
âPearl?â He called out, looking around. It wasnât like there was anywhere she could be in their tiny space. Both of their beds were empty, and there wasnât really any other space. Maybe he had missed her downstairs, or she was under the base? âWhere are you?â
âUp here!â The response came, unexpectedly, from above him. He could barely hear it through the closed windows and the pounding rain.
âOn the roof?â BigB questioned, incredulous, âAre you crazy?â
He flinched back after asking. Maybe not the right words. The barely healed wounds of last series still stung for her, he knew. She had admitted as much late at night after the amnesia incident, that she was afraid that she was losing her mind for real, or that she had already lost it and everyone had been right about her.
âMaybe!â She seemed good humored in her reply, but it was a little hard to tell. She may not be crazy, but she certainly got an unhinged tint to her when she was red. It was a little scary, to be honest. âItâs nice up here!â
âThereâs no way! Youâre gonna get sick!â His voice was starting to hurt from having to call up to her.
âWeâre only alive for a little bit more! How badly sick could I get?â He laughed, the reminder of their impending deaths somehow making him giddy with adrenaline. Maybe someone else would feel dread, but BigB wasnât everybody.
âI guess youâre right!â
âSo come join me!â He shook his head, but laughed. May as well. Like she said, itâs not like they were going to get sick enough for it to matter in the week or so they had left.
He grabbed what little leather they had and made some more water resistant gear. Looking around he could see Pearlâs iron gear laid out on her bed, meaning she was probably out there in her normal hoodie and shorts. Like he said, crazy.
It wasnât all that hard to clamber onto their roof, but the rain certainly made it more difficult. BigB struggled to get a proper hold on the ledge, the wood slick under his hands.His heart beat quickly. A death right now would be a fourth of his time. Just as he was afraid he was going to slip, a slim pale hand caught his. With a shocking strength given how slight she was, Pearl pulled him up next to her.She grinned at him, her red eyes meeting his own, and her smile was kind despite the mildly unsettling edge that came with last life bloodlust.
Just as he suspected, Pearl was wearing her hoodie. The normally bright color was darkened to a crimson, and he was sure it was incredibly heavy with how soaked through it was. Her shorts looked nearly black and he cringed at the idea of wet denim. He was glad to not be wearing his own jeans right now, and to have his clothes covered by the leather gear. He would have offered her some, but she didnât always react well when he tried to give her things. More than anyone else in these games, BigB understood the need to take care of yourself in this sort of situation. He had been doing it since before Pearl joined the series.
âIsnât it beautiful?â She asked him, pulling him out of his thoughts and gesturing out towards the rest of the server. She handed over a spyglass, this was a true opportunity to Watch, Her eyes glinted purple for a second, in a way that was familiar for both of them. Evo had left a little bit of itself in all of them.He was sure his own eyes were doing the same. They werenât Watchers, but they were allowed to Watch and even sometimes to Listen.
He looked out at the landscape and couldnât help but agree with her assessment. Despite the darkness, it was nice to get a good look at everything when everyone else was inside. There was no noise other than the rain, no movement other than the mobs that were spawning. Occasionally, a flash of lighting lit up everything. Light curved around the Mean Gilsâ hourglass, it outlined the Clockersâ tower, it reflected on the flooded pool below the Bad Boyâs Bread house. Sometimes it struck the very top of TIESâ base, and he was sure the four of them must have their hair standing on end.
Some distant part of him worried about how high up him and Pearl were, lighting being attracted to tall places and all, but Watching tended to dull such feelings. The two of them were extending themselves to places that they shouldn't be able to actually see. He wondered if Grian would want to join them, or Martyn or Jimmy. All five of them had it in them, even if only Grian and Martyn tended to use it. The rest of the server probably didnât even know there was anything odd about the way BigB and Pearl Watched them, unless a teammate had told them.
The rain had slowed by early evening, though a light rain kept up. The lighting was gone at least, and some of their server mates began emerging from their bases. Like BigB, many of them were wearing leather, though the most paranoid stuck to their iron and diamond. With everyone on red, he understood the urge. He pulled back his Eyes and began to peer at them normally through the spyglass. The gasping breath beside him told him Pearl was doing the same. It was standard procedure for them, as Watching people was too invasive unless you really needed to. Spying normally? That was just a bit of fun.
He could have kept observing forever, except that Pearlâs breath turned into a huff, and her teeth were audibly chattering. At some point she must have drifted closer to him for warmth, and the drenched fabric of her hoodie was soaking wet and trembling with her.
âWe should head inside. I donât know about you but Iâm chilly,â He suggested, putting his spyglass away. His gear had kept him warm and dry for the most part, though his hair was soaked due to the no helmets rule. He lied, however, for her sake. A quick look saw that her long hair was soaked even under the hood, the cloth only holding so much water before it started to leak through, and her lips and fingertips were tinted blue.
Pearl, he had learned, had very little sense of temperature, hot or cold. It was a consequence of last series, she had explained. Whatever tolerance she hadnât built from her powdered snow escapades and the resulting frostbite, she had gotten from the dead tissue left by Scott blowing them both up. Burn scars went up her legs to the knee, and up her arms to the elbow. Once, when she was yellow, she had leaned against a furnace while it was cooking and he had to pull her arm away when smelled something burning. She hadnât even felt it, but she had a bandage wrapped around the area where it had left a mark on her bicep.
Maybe it was a winning thing, BigB thought. He didn't have any visible scars from previous games, and certainly no lasting tolerance for anything except maybe pain and fear. He almost wished he had gotten to keep more than just the memories from these games, some proof of pain. Then again, the way Pearl cringed when she traced her scars told him that it would probably be more painful than anything,
âYeah, inside then. Donât want you freezing,â She clapped a hand on his shoulder before swinging down, easily and casually. He could hear the thump of her landing on the floor inside.
BigBâs own descent was slower and more careful. He had less time than her, he couldnât waste it by falling. He had none of her grace, but it was still an impressive feat of strength to watch him lower himself slowly back onto their window ledge.
Before she could lay down, he stopped her.
âYou should change, it canât be comfortable to lay down in those clothes,â She tilted her head to the side at the suggestion, almost dog-like. It was like she hadnât even considered the idea. With a shrug and a toss, her hoodie joined his own wet clothes by the furnace, which he restocked to turn some wood into charcoal, if only to keep it hot now that the iron was done. BigB turned to look outside while she removed her other clothing to do the same. âYou done?â
âYeah,â He turned back around at her response. Unlike him, Pearl actually brought pajamas to the games. She had proper pajama pants, moon and stars pattern and all, and a tank top. BigB didnât see a point in it, the t-shirt he normally wore under his button up and the shorts he had on for his red life this season worked just fine. It was still a little chilly, and he shivered as a draft came through the tower. Pearl reached under her bed and grabbed her regular navy hoodie. âHere, you look cold,â
He would have pointed out the irony, her lips were tinged blue, but there wasnât a point. She probably didnât even feel it. He just took the hoodie, grateful that Pearl wore one that was oversized because it just about fit on him.
âAlright then, dinner time?â He suggested. A hot meal would do them both some good.
#pearlescentmoon#bigbst4tz2#nosey neighbors#limited life smp#fic#reblog welcome and encouraged :)#regularly scheduled nosey neighbors hours
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