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itsbeaconhillsbaby · 3 years ago

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(cruel) summer || tom holland x reader

a/n: well...this took me a lot longer than I expected. I can only apologise for how long this has taken, especially since the absolutely wonderful @glahmouur requested it so many months ago. I hope you’re still excited to read, and that I’ve done it justice for you. clinging onto the last of these summer vibes before my favourite time of year - and hopefully plenty more writing to come over the next couple of weeks! I’ve missed you all so very much. enjoy x word count: 3735 (oops) warning: swearing, gross paparazzi, little bit of angst summary: it’s the summer of your dreams with your favourite people, something was always going to try and ruin it

The trip had been booked for months.

Tom, Harrison, Harry, Tuwaine and yourself. Mexico.

Two whole weeks.

No interruptions. No work. Just pure bliss.

And, it was shaping up to be the most perfect break.

The first couple of days since you had landed included a lot of amazing food, sightseeing around the quaint picturesque villages and cultural landmarks, tackling hiking trails and joining in on the sports activities set up for you and the boys on the crystal white beaches.

Your favourite part however, was the amount of quality time you got to spend with Tom. Both of you were considered workaholics, and you loved your jobs, but it meant that for the majority of the year you were in separate locations working on your own individual projects.

You both deserved, and needed, this break.

The timing couldn’t have been better, as across the two weeks you would be celebrating your 23rd birthday. Birthdays weren’t always something you and Tom could share together in person, but you would always make it work with FaceTime calls and the promise of a do-over when you were together again.

“Hey!”

You tore yourself away from the soft paperback that was resting warmly against your thighs.

“Hm?”

You look up at your boyfriend, strong arms hauling himself up against the hot paved edging of the pool. He shook his wet curls out of his hair, droplets springing from the tips. Tanned, freckled shoulders peeked out from beneath the water. The sun, strong and intense, commandeered the bright blue skies. A far cry from the cold, rainy weather you’d left back home in the UK. You were unwilling to make your way back to your hotel room in the sticky heat for your forgotten sunglasses, and were instead using your hand as a shield from the glaring rays.

“The water looks good on you,” you flirt, smiling across at him from your position on the reclined sun-bed.

He grins back at you, cheekily.

“It’ll look better on you. Aren’t you coming in?”

You pointed to the book nestled between your legs, “I’m reading, plus the water is freezing.” You teased him, training your eyes back onto the page. You heard brief splashing alongside the laughter of the boys as they continued to play their water basketball game.

A shadow blocks out your sun, dripping water onto the hot concrete.

“Yeah, no. Sorry, but that’s just not going to cut it birthday girl.”

Before you had a chance to take in his words, Tom had scooped you up from your position on the sun-bed. The light droplets from his wet, messy hair chilling your tanned skin.

“Tom! No! Put me down! What are you doing?” You laughed, lightly kicking your legs, “Wait, at least let me put my book down first.”

You felt the grumbled laugh against your body, as you gently tossed your book onto the lounger.

“Okay, go ahead.”

He pressed a sloppy, wet kiss on your mouth - your hand knotted in the back of his wet, tangled hair as you pushed for more.

“Love you.” He said, before dropping you into the pool with a splash.

“You suck, Holland!” You shouted back to him, once you’d come back up for air, shaking water out of your ears and trying to scoop your tangled web of hair out of your eyes as he laughed, eyes twinkling. ****

You continued to watch from your perch on the side-lines, legs tracing patterns in the water whilst the sun beat down across your back and shoulder blades. The boys continued to mess around in the water. Your book had been long since abandoned on your sun lounger, pages now curling with the heat. You couldn’t contain your laughter when Tuwaine jumped on Tom’s back, Harry on Harrison’s so the two teams could race from one end of the pool to the other, legs peddling in what seemed like slow motion under the water; raucous fits of laughter emanating from both parties as your cheered on your boyfriend.

You couldn’t help but be automatically drawn to Tom, his smile so wide and eyes creased with laughter as Tuwaine casually slung his arms over his shoulders. His hair was completely dishevelled from the water’s attempts to flatten it entirely. You could see a smattering of freckles breaking out across his nose, complete with a small shock of pink on his cheeks as he was officially branded by the sun.

“Hey, pretty girl – forgive me yet?” Tom whined, swimming up to the edge to meet you. He gently pulled your legs further into the water, sliding himself between them, wrapping his arms around your waist as your legs wrapped themselves around his.

You laughed, pushing against his broad shoulders.

“Not sure yet. I’m thinking about it.”

He gave a toothy grin before peppering a small cluster of kisses against your lips, “You look so good.” He mumbled quietly against your mouth.

You rolled your eyes at him, before returning the kisses.

“Oi, get a room you two!” You laugh as Tom covers the front of you, ultimately taking the hit of water from Harry.

He gives you a light squeeze round the waist, and a soft kiss on the cheek whispering a quick, “Hop on.”

Wrapping your arms across his warm shoulders, you eased yourself fully into the water, feeling the immediate chill up your sides before wrapping your legs around Tom’s waist. Leaning forward against his back, he held onto the backs of your thighs – propelling you both through the water.

As you arrive next to the boys, you lightly floated away from Tom and were pulled into a one-armed hug by Tuwaine. As Harry held up a fist for you to bump against, you flicked your wrist just under the surface of the water – splashing him as payback.

Tom tread water with the cheesiest grin on his face as all the boys’ eyes immediately trained on you.

“Come on then, what’s this ‘mermaids’ game you were talking about – and how do we play?” ****

The air con hummed lowly, wispy curtains gently blowing in the cool breeze from the open balcony doors. The ocean twinkled in the late afternoon sunshine. You were sprawled out on the large king-sized bed wrapped in one of the hotel’s fluffiest white towels, legs dancing in the air behind you. Lounging on your front, wet curls drying in the cool air you could hear the faint sound of spraying water from the en-suite shower. It soothed you as you continued to follow the written words on the pages of your, now slightly wrinkled and rough to the touch, paperback.

Your phone vibrated from the opposite side of the room, plugged in and charging atop the rustic, vintage vanity table where your new camera, battery pack and Tom’s wallet had all been left.

The camera had been a special gift from Tom which he’d surprised you with on your birthday, celebrated only the other evening. He’d been so giddy the morning of. The carefully, yet haphazardly, wrapped parcel had protruded just slightly from under the bed in the hotel room you shared, where he’d attempted to hide it. You pretended you hadn’t noticed. Puppy dog eyes shone as he eventually handed it across to you, surprising you in bed as the sun was going down, casting golden specks across your bodies, as he whispered a soft ‘happy birthday’ against your lips. Beaming at you once he saw your sheer shock and joy at his thoughtful gift, he had kept the first photo you’d taken in his wallet from that evening. Just the two of you - both sleepy shadows, full from all the sweet lemon sponge cake that has been especially ordered up to your room - cuddled together, legs entangled as you fell into each other’s embrace.

You’d all taken a boat to one of the smaller islands for a special celebratory dinner the next evening; where Harry had surprised you with the battery pack, his smart quick-thinking leaving Tom with a pink blush upon his cheeks. You thanked him with a smile, the rest of the crew spoiling you rotten with drinks and food. As the boys parted ways, you and Tom had waited around for the sunset, high off the sparkling, sweet tasting wine you’d both consumed all evening – bewitched by each other’s titillating company. A small wrap was knotted around your waist, as you had all stayed in your beachwear, black bikini top on show as a server snapped a picture of you both with your new camera per Tom’s polite request. The sun burned low behind you both, it’s vibrant orange glow glistening across the water towards the cove.

Posting the photo in your wine induced haze, you captioned it with a simple 23 and a golden heart before tagging Tom in the blurry, sepia quality polaroid.

You knew the vibrating would be your phone going into overload. A common occurrence that happened anytime you posted a photo with your boyfriend, the hordes of fans coming in full throttle to interact in some way.

Leaving it to buzz in the background, you turned your attention to the bathroom door opening. Tom stepping out as he shook his wet hair, towelling it dry as it stuck up in multiple directions haphazardly.

“Come here.”

You sat yourself up, legs crossed beneath you as he walked over to you – that soft smile high on his lips.

He sat on the end of the bed as you brushed through his temperamental curls, “Please leave it curly,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his tanned shoulder blades, running your hands through the brown locks.

“We’ll match.” He said, turning to you as your hands fell back into your lap.

“Would it be too much?” You asked, as he gently tucked a rogue drying curl behind your own ear.

“Oh definitely. But I love it.”

With that, he pushed forward. Noses brushed as you both relaxed into each other’s embrace, mouths eagerly seeking out each other, the sweet smells of lotion and ocean spray engulfing you both.

****

“Right, it’s my round! Get your orders in!”

The whole group hollered at Tom, who pressed a firm kiss onto your forehead as you tilted it upwards towards him, his two hands cradling either side of your head. Your eyes closed involuntary at the warmth before you turned to watch him leave the table and join the small crowd up at the bar. Dressed in a tropical patterned shirt, unbuttoned and billowing just slightly due to the aircon, you took a minute to admire him from afar. He worked hard to look the way he did, muscles contracting and relaxing again with each breath.

You pulled the thin material of your summery dress down further, eager to cover up some of the bare skin you had on show after seeing Tom’s. You paled in comparison to the web-slinging actor, and sometimes if you focussed on it too much you couldn’t understand why such a gorgeous man would be interested in you.

“Hello. Anyone in there?”

A hand waved in front of your eyeline. Shaking your head, you returned your attention back to the table where the boys were trying to mask their laughter.

“She can’t take her eyes off him for two minutes. Outrageous.”

“What? I’m on holiday, leave me alone!”

Tuwaine smirked slightly, as Harrison patted your arm reassuringly.

“Why did we agree to have a couple on this trip again?” Harry complained cheekily, grinning his cheesy grin at you. You reached an arm across the table and pushed a hand against his forehead, playfully shoving him back.

“Shut up, you love me.”

As Tom came back with the tray; a colourful array of cocktails, shots and ciders, the group continued to laugh and joke around, cheers-ing to your recent birthday and to the remainder of their holiday under the heat of the Mexican sun.

**** “Uh oh, incoming Tom.”

Everyone was rosy cheeked as they tumbled out of the restaurant, laughing and giggling as the sun cast its low golden glow over the glistening blue waters. Waves gently caressed the edge of the shore as you revelled in the drunken clinginess of your boyfriend, and the support and love of your friends.

You walked with Tom - the pair of you in your own little bubble, as he tucked you into his side, his arm slung casually across your shoulders as you wrapped yours around his waist. You could hear the thumps of his beating heart beneath the now buttoned up fabric of his shirt.

As the words spilled from Harry’s mouth, catching you all off guard mid conversation, Tom whipped his head round; immediately sobering up as his arm tightened around your shoulders. You peeked over his.

Behind a cluster of people, the striking black camera was obvious as the paparazzi pushed forwards, eager to catch a glimpse of the web-slinger himself.

You felt a brush of cold air sweep over your body, the hairs on your arms rising like tiny pinpricks as little goose bumps littered your skin. You straightened up, unwrapping yourself from Tom’s side.

“You okay?” He murmured into your ear, eyes hardening as he focussed on the path ahead of him whilst navigating the drunken, bustling crowds.

You nod.

“How did they even find us?”

You could sense Tom’s frustration and anger at the situation, resting a comforting hand on his arm. You knew what this meant, if the paparazzi had caught wind of where you all were, it wouldn’t be long before they figured out where it was you were staying and you couldn’t imagine that they’d leave Tom alone for the rest of his trip.

“I posted a photo the other night. Someone could’ve recognised the restaurant.”

It was during your worried ramble that the shouting started, camera-wielding men desperate to get a photo of Tom.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault, okay? Let’s just head back.”

Your heart was racing as you were led through the dimly lit cobbled streets of the small village, losing Tom’s hand you were flanked by Tuwaine and Harrison – Harry hurrying up ahead with Tom. The camera shutters were getting louder and louder, the constant clicking ricocheting off the stone walls surrounding you as you attempted to block out the shouting and the grabbing hands of the people around you. The once happy, bustling streets now felt claustrophobic.

It was so easy to forget who Tom was in regards to his public image and celebrity status when you were together. Forcing you to recall that he wasn’t just your boyfriend, he was suddenly an A-list celebrity, ‘Spider-Man’ himself. Back home you could easily be together in public without too much attention – only having to accommodate for the occasional fan photo or dinner interruption. Premiere’s and special events weren’t so bad because the press was supposed to be there, and whilst extremely intimidating, you understood it was part of the job.

You noticed Tom and Harry slip down a small alleyway to the right, a blink and you’ll miss it move – as you and the boys continued up the cobbled paths to the main street. It was a distraction technique discussed every time the five of you went out together and had to deal with any irritating situation.

“They said they’re getting a car, and they’ll meet us back at the hotel.”

As Harrison organised your transport, you reached the main road – twinkling lights from the city and the roaring of cars sweeping past you. The paparazzi slowed behind you, their shouts less desperate now that it was obvious Tom was no longer with the group. Their frustration was obvious as they all grouped together, scanning through the photos that they had managed to sneakily take.

Then there was a stupid comment.

As the paps brushed past you all, one leaned in far closer than you had anticipated, stabbing a pointed finger straight into your chest and leaning in close.

“Think you’re so special. Girl like you. So many other beautiful girls out there.”

Whilst the language was slightly broken, you pieced enough together before Tuwaine stepped in front of you both.

“What the hell man! Fuck off, you’re just a bully, why don’t you just leave her alone, yeah? Pick on someone your own size!”

You grabbed at Tuwaine’s arm, shaking your head in silent surrender.

“Just leave it. It’s okay. It’s not worth it.”

“I just hate them so much. Never let anyone have a bit of privacy. Constantly looking to bring people down, and start fights - assholes!” He shouted down the road at the small cluster of men as they continued on their way, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, “I’m fine. They’re just mad they didn’t get their picture. Let’s just get out of here. Should probably make sure that they don’t follow us back to the hotel.”

Harrison came jogging over, hand beckoning to follow him to a sleek black car parked just around the corner.

“Car’s here,” He paused for a minute. Noticing your smaller stature and Tuwaine’s puffed out chest and frown, he tilted his head, “We all okay?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Let’s go.”

Smiling a small, grateful smile you gave Harrison’s arm a comforting squeeze before sliding onto the black leather seats.

***** “Can’t even give us a couple weeks off. I love this job. But I would pack it all in if it meant that paparazzi just fucking left us alone.”

“Tom. Think we should call it a night.”

Harrison nodded over at you. Whilst your body was curled into Tom’s frame, your eyes unfocussed, having found a spot on the wall to gaze into as the boys all had a drink in the private hotel lounge.

You didn’t want to admit that the photographer’s words had any impact. And you really didn’t want to bring down the light-hearted, fun energy that your vacation had been full of. You were usually so good at brushing off any unwarranted comments, which were usually inevitable seeing as your boyfriend had such a large fanbase. There was no way everyone was going to like you, and you could cope with that. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been doing so for ages now. But whether it was the alcohol you’d already consumed, or something else – you just couldn’t stop thinking about what the man had spat at you.

Tom’s body shifts beneath you, holding out a hand for you to take as you both rise from the luxurious chaise. Shaking your head out of your daze, you smile softly as you grasp his hand and haul yourself up.

“We’ll see you guys tomorrow okay. Thanks for tonight boys, and sorry for ruining it.”

“Tom, you didn’t-” Tom waved them off with a shrug, before sliding his arms across your shoulder and entwining your fingers at the other side.

“Night guys.” It came out as more of a whisper, as you processed to walk with Tom up to your floor, your head nestling gently into his collarbone.

****

The hotel room was suffocating.

You lay on your side, facing the firmly locked balcony doors. The room was cold. The air conditioning incessant with its obnoxious whirring. There was a rustle. The thin cotton sheets slide across your body as Tom hops in next to you.

“I’m sorry.”

His soft words caused your entire tension-filled body to exhale.

“Tom.”

You turned to face him. His eyes were closed, tiny creases etched into the space between his eyebrows. Tom didn’t like being vulnerable, you knew he was staving off his true feelings – the striking anger that was coursing through his body. Gently smoothing the creases out with your fingers, he leaned ever so slightly into your touch.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault.”

You pressed a soft kiss on his brow bone before settling in next to him, bodies warm to the touch.

“I love you. You know that, right? Whatever they’re all saying, it’s rubbish.”

The lump in your throat that you had been impressively swallowing down all evening came back to the surface, the pressure building.

“How did you know?”

He shrugged.

“I saw some of the comments.”

The pictures had been released pretty quickly. By the time you had all arrived back to the hotel they were already circulating across the internet, which people took as the perfect opportunity to hurl insults at your social media pages.

He shifts his head to the left to look at you, eyes softening.

“Hey. You can let it out. It’s just me. C’mon.”

You curl further into him, as his lips caress your forehead.

“People suck.” You mumble into his chest as he wraps himself around you, lightly trailing his fingers up and down your arm, the skin bursting with tiny goose bumps. You revelled in the soothing comfort.

“Sometimes I just forget. I forget that there are thousands – maybe even tens of thousands - of people out there who just don’t like me,” Tom squeezes you that little bit tighter, “And it’s okay. I don’t mind, really. I just wish they didn’t have to be so vocal about it – about how I look, how I act, how I dress. About whether I’m good enough.”

“You are good enough. You’re more than good enough. You’re amazing.”

Your lips pull up into a small smile as you look into those concerned brown eyes.

“You’re biased.”

He let out a small huff, chest vibrating beneath you, “Am not.” He sighed, those fluffy brows saying a thousand words, “I’m supposed to make all that crap better, not make you feel worse because of some so-called fans on the internet, and those stupid idiot paps; I’m so sorry.”

“Maybe if you just…weren’t so damn attractive. That would help.”

You both laughed.

“Oh, really?”

You nodded, as he pulled you in, peppering more soft kisses along your temple until he made his way down to your mouth.

“You’re ridiculous. And beautiful.”

Another kiss.

“And smart.”

Another kiss.

“And kind.”

Another kiss. “And I am so in love with absolutely everything about you. You’re enough. You’re everything.”

You felt your eyes glossing over. Scrunching your nose to avoid an onslaught of overdue tears, you felt Tom move beneath the covers – his arms wrapping around your torso, his curly messy hair resting on your stomach.

“I love you too.”

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfic #tom holland one shot #harry holland #harrison osterfield #tuwaine barrett #lisa writes #lisa takes 10000 years to write more like

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writingsfromhome · 4 years ago

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Crystal Clear

A/N: Here’s some fluff, friends to lovers I’ve had going on while I work on something bigger :))

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“Y/N,” a strange man calls my name. I look him up and down but I don’t think I know him.

“Who’s asking?”

“Y/N, it’s me? Harry.”

“Oh,” I laugh and greet him how I would have if I’d recognized him under all those layers, in a great big hug. “Your disguise is brilliant!”

“It’s not a disguise,” he says into his coat. “It’s bloody cold here.”

“Coldest day so far,” I accept the hot chocolate from the vendor and ask him for another, Harry could use one, poor thing. His plans this week were changed last minute, and since he was in New York City where his best childhood friend lived, he decided to actually hang out with me. Ever since he got famous, it was hard to catch time with him.

“Did the cold freeze all the English out of you? You’re not even wearing mittens,” Harry accepts his own cup from the vendor.

“I’m got them in my pocket,” I point to the bulge on the side of my coat as we step aside and make our way deeper into the winter festival that was at Bryant Park. “Don’t insult me, I can still make a better cup of tea than you ever could.”

“There she is,” I hear the smile in Harry’s voice more than I see it. It truly was ridiculous--not only was he wearing the thickest parka I’d ever seen, he also had on a beanie and a scarf, as well as knit gloves that held tightly to his hot chocolate.

“I’m always here, you’re just too busy to see me.”

“Not this again,” he groans. I was always giving him grief every time he touched down to NYC but didn’t pop by for a visit. I knew he had a hectic schedule, and even though I wasn’t that bothered I still liked to tease him.

“It’s true, you come to the city so often but I see you once a year. And maybe again when I’m in London if I get lucky.”

“I’m busy Y/N, I talk to you all the time!”

“I know,” I elbow him. “I just like to rile you up.”

“Well now that you’ve got that out of your system,” he tugs my hat over my eyes. “Where are we going next?”

I push it back up, “I thought we could just wander the shops, then get on the skating rink if you’re not frozen to death.”

“Alright I’ve got to pick some gifts up anyway let’s see what’s here.”

We make a good team as we visit stands selling ornaments and kitschy decor, handmade gifts, and hot cider. We sift through exactly what we might want, or what the other’s looking for. And with the light dusting of snow coming down, and the bright lights strung around the Park, it was like walking in a Christmas movie.

“Look at this,” I point ahead. We’d nearly visited all the stands and holiday shops but a festive psychic advertises their services in a small glass booth. “Should we?”

“It’s a waste of money,” Harry scoffs. “She’s just going to read your body language.”

“She might be the real deal-”

“You can’t be serious-”

“C’mon!” I tug his gloves hand and it takes a few but he stumbles towards me. It’s slightly warmer inside and I notice the space heater running in the corner. “At least it’s warm” I whisper to Harry.

“You really want to do this?” He asks one last time.

“It’s just $10-”

“$20 for the two,” the woman almost shifts out of the wall and I hide my jump with a laugh. There’s a curtain behind her, I realize, she must have stepped out.

“It’s just me,” I clarify.

She eyes Harry and Harry eyes her back. “You look familiar.”

“Just have that face,” he shrugs, burrowing into his scarf. “I’m just here to watch.”

She stares at him a moment longer before settling at the small table. I flash Harry a smile before sitting down myself, setting my bags onto the floor.

“Palm reading, cards, what will it be dear?” The psychic asks. I remember the sign out front said cards would be more than having my palm read so I opt for the cheaper option.

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully as she traces the lines on my palm. I wriggle my eyebrows at Harry and he rolls his eyes, but he stays watching her like a hawk. It was cute how overprotective he got sometimes. The psychic glances up to catch him watching her, she then glances at me and tilts her head.

“I see longevity, in life and love, a few bumps but you’re a strong persistent woman.”

Harry grumbles behind me and I resist the urge to say something to him.

“I see success after hard, hard work. But a big success that will change the course of your career.”

“Wow, how soon?” I ask.

“Mmm, after a big milestone. Turning 30?” she continues to examine my hand. “I see a second life later in life, with kids...just one no maybe two children.”

“How about her love life?” Harry asks. “Her last love s’not too nice.”

“Seriously Harry?” I turn to glare this time. He’s grinning with flushed cheeks, knowing it was a sore spot he liked to say i told you so to. It was true, he had told me so about my 3 year relationship but I’d ignored him.

“Your love life,’ the woman speaks up. “Shows me two great loves. One cuts short, the other is as long as your life line.”

“Ooh,” I lean in, interested. “I think I know about the one that was cut short. Tell me about the second!”

“This second...” she traces my palm and I feel a tingle. “This second love is very close, a bit rocky but it will last.”

“A bit rocky?”

“Hm,” she chews her bottom lip. “Time, distance...it will make it rocky. But it lasts.”

“So how close is close?” I ask eagerly.

“Close,” she says with a smile that tells me I wasn’t getting anything else out of her.

“That’s a bit vague isn’t it?” Harry pipes up from the back.

“The future isn’t always crystal clear,” she says without looking up at him.

“Lay off,” I scold him.

“It’s okay, I get nonbelievers all the time.” She laughs. “That will be $10 dear.” When I hand her the bill she stops me as she takes it. “A little free advice?”

“Sure.” I pick up the bags I placed on the floor earlier.

"Don’t be so focused on the life you want that you don’t see the life you have around you.”

“I’ve actually told her that before,” Harry decides we want more of his unsolicited opinions. “Maybe there is something true to all of this.”

“Thanks,” I pocket her words for later. Harry was right, he’d said something along those lines to me before, especially when it came to giving up control and going with the flow on trips and events with him. I always declined his offers, we lived a modest life growing up and accepting these gifts from him always felt so excessive. I wanted to make my own way in the world, but Harry always had something to say. “And sorry for his attitude, he’s not always this rude.”

“Yeah,” Harry shifts forward. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m a lot nicer usually.”

“I know,” she smiles.

“She’s psychic,” I remind him.

“I’m also online,” she laughs. “Can I get a picture?”

Harry eyes me, before going in for a selfie with her. I know he usually didn’t mind getting asked in smaller settings but he’d admitted it was something he was still getting used to. It had been a couple years since he became so famous, in such a short amount of time I went from being able to go down to a local pub with my best friend to schedules and security details and a whole other list of complications. Sometimes I hated it, mostly I was happy for him.

“Another day, another fan.” I tell Harry after we walk away from the psychic and he flips me off. “Should we get something to eat and get out of the cold?”

“God yes,” Harry shivers. “Can we just go to yours?”

“Let’s go,” I loop my arm through Harry’s.

Harry wants instant warmth so he hails a cab and we pick up takeout once we reach my neighbourhood. Harry had been here a few times, my roommate had gotten used to the fact that I was best friends with him, and sometimes he preferred to stay here when he wanted to be anonymous. Paparazzi sometimes crowded outside his hotel when word leaked he was there.

We eat ourselves into a food coma and Harry decides to stay the night, not wanting to face the cold again. Since our living room couch sprained his neck the only time he’d slept there, he usually crashed in my bed. His head barely hits the pillow before he’s snoring, I guess the jet lag finally caught up.

***

I jerk out of sleep, a crashing noise followed by swearing catches my attention.

“I think your roommate dropped something,” I hear from beside me. I turn my face to get a facefull of Harry’s thigh tattoos.

“Y’think?” I croak and shift backwards to see his face. He’s sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone.

“Guess which psychic is officially internet-famous?” Harry asks dryly.

“Hm?” I’m still calming my heart from waking up so suddenly so it takes a moment to register Harry’s words. “What?”

He shoves his phone in my face, the selfie he took with the psychic yesterday is posted on social media with over half a million likes. He swipes away and a lot of his tag is filled with news outlets and fan accounts spamming the picture. He pulls it back to read a heading: “Harry Styles visits Psychic for ideas on his next album. There’s also Harry Styles rumored to be connected to the Occult...I don’t know what that means. Psychic tells all on Harry Styles reading.”

“How did that picture circulate?” I rub my eyes and sit up beside him. “And where is all of this coming from?”

“She has a Twitter, and she posted the picture.” He shows me, it’s there with the caption A handsome face showed up to my booth at the Bryant Park Market tonight. Get your future told, 5pm to 9pm 7 days a week.

I can’t help but laugh, she was a business woman and she really took the opportunity to sell her service.

“It’s not funny Y/N,” Harry looks furious so I cover my mouth and squint at his screen as he scrolls. A ton of people are responding asking about his future or what he came there for. Amongst them, she responds to only one person: His love life was involved.

My jaw drops, “That’s such a lie! She read me my love life, and life lines!”

“I told you she was a fraud,” Harry jerks the phone back to him.

“She lied for sales, but doesn’t mean she didn’t tell the truth yesterday.”

“If she lied about this she lied about it all and you wasted $10. She only talked about your love life, not mine...”

I remember her words, my second love was very close...could she have meant...

I glance at Harry and he seemed to have followed the same train of thought because we lock eyes, his probably just as wide as mine.

“D’you think?” he says just as I say “Was she...?”

We immediately burst out laughing as the tension comes to a head and bubbles over in a safe trickle.

“Is that what she was trying to say?” I say when I’ve finally caught my breath, my stomach hurt from laughing this hard.

“I guess when she said close she meant close,” Harry’s flat on his back from laughing. “Quite literal.”

“And you were calling her out on being so vague.”

“I’ve got to give it to her,” he shuts his phone off and throws it onto the covers between us, releasing the annoyance. “She’s a good businesswoman.”

“I was thinking the same thing but I thought you might kill me if I said that,” I admit.

We lay on the rumpled covers in silence, I think about everything else she said. The potential of it all is tarnished by the idea of Harry being my second love, for life. It was so ridiculous, unless by love she meant the way I love him now. As my best friend. Our lives were so different, there was no way it could ever work. Not to mention...he was my best friend since forever.

“Have you ever thought about it?” Harry asks out of the blue.

“Thought about what?” I prop myself on my elbow.

“Us, like...the way she predicted?”

“Together together?” I can’t help but laugh. “No never, you’re my best friend!” I recognize the flash of hurt so I backtrack a little. “No offense Harry, I love you but could you imagine?”

“I have,” he says it so quietly as I lay back down. “What?” I ask. He shrugs, “I’m surprised you haven’t. We’ve been friends since...we were 7. You’re saying you never thought about it?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Actually I haven’t. When...what did you think about?”

“I dunno,” he fiddles with his rings. “Like for school dances, when I didn’t have a date I thought about asking you as more than a friend...thought about where that could lead. Or every time you had your heart broke. I wanted to take the pain away and just show you what you deserved.”

“Harry I...” it was sweet, what he was saying. But he never gave a single clue about it the entire time we grew up. He was always chasing girls who looked nothing like me, so I always thought that’s what his type was. Never did I think about anything more with him.

“Not-not recently though,” he forces a laugh. “Just when we were kids.”

“That’s sweet Harry. I had no idea.”

He shrugs, and sits up.

“No seriously I...that’s so sweet. But just so you know, you have shown me what a good man can be. Just by being the best friend ever.”

“Aw,” he swipes my cheek as he gets up. “That’s cute. I don’t know if I’ve done such a good job when you’ve only dated knobs.”

I could recognize his defense mechanism--turning it into a big joke. But he leaves the room before I can call him out and I’m left sitting in the mess of what he’d just told me. It’s not that it was awkward or a bad thing, but suddenly it felt tense and the tension triggered an anxious feeling in my chest.

I decide to get out of my room and find my roommate cleaning up the remains of her broken mug. I offer to clean the spill as she dresses to go out for her run. Helping her distracts me, and when I hear Harry leave the bathroom I lock myself in, and try some breathing exercises to clear the anxiety creeping up. When I realize I was trying to avoid Harry, I scold myself. This was ridiculous and funny! Harry wanted to ask me out when we were kids, it was cute, and that was it. The psychic was a fake anyway, nothing she said meant anything.

I head back to my room where Harry’s made the bed. I change into trousers and my favourite fisherman sweater, and find him having coffee at our small kitchen table with his phone on speaker as he talks to someone. His legs barely fit underneath, so they’re sprawled to the side. He’s still shirtless, and my attention snags on his torso.

I shake myself out of my thoughts as I bump into the kitchen island, and glance up to see that although he was talking to the person on the phone, his eyes had been on me...while my eyes were on his abs. Oh god, I cringe. I try to act casual, mouthing if he wanted breakfast but he shakes his head and points to the call he’s having.

I make myself a toast and try to ignore what just happened but it only adds to the tension from this morning. When he gets off his call he brings his cup up to the sink.

“I think I need another cup.”

“Be my guest,” I move aside. “You sure you don’t want breakfast?”

“Are you going to feed me avocado flax seed quinoa toast?” he teases.

“There’s no quinoa.” I correct, crossing my arms. “But...yes.”

“I’ll take this banana,” he holds the lone banana on the counter. “I’ve got to be in East Harlem by noon, that’s what the call was about.”

“Aw,” I hated saying goodbye. “Are you busy the rest of your stay?”

“I can make it back here,” he says.

“Do whatever you need to do,” I say. “I’m used to being discarded after you hang out with me in the city.”

“I don’t do that!” he reaches behind me to slot his cup in and set the machine to grind his beans. I can smell my shampoo on him, he must’ve showered. “If you want me back, you can just say that.”

The morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window leaves no room for shadows; the shift in the mood is clear as the daylight streaming in. Or maybe I was reading too much into his words.

“I always want you back,” I look up to his height now that he’s standing so close, and the kitchen tightens further.

We’re stuck in a tableau; with my back against the fridge looking up at him as he gazes down with a curious expression. My mind grows blank the longer I stare. No one says a word, the sound of beans grinding the only noise in the kitchen.

My best friend in the whole world looks torn standing in front of me like this, and as my senses slowly rush back I realize that even if my expression doesn’t show it...I was torn. Because out of nowhere, all I can think about are all the questions I ever shoved away in the dark: what would it feel like if I kissed him right now? And what would have happened to us if he had asked me out to our school dance? Would we still be best friends? Would we have cut each other out? How many universes were we still good together like this? How many universes were we good together as more than this?

An urge to touch his face, make sure this was real, takes over me. But as soon as my fingers brush his cheek he snaps out of his trance and stumbles back like I’d burned him.

He forces a laugh. “I really do need that coffee.”

“Right,” I turn to the machine to put the grinds into their slot but I yank too hard and the freshly ground coffee flies out towards me. “Shit!”

“What happ-” Harry takes one look at what’s happened and turns away, his shoulders shaking.

“I can see you right in front of me laughing!” I shout. “Help me!”

“It’s all over you Y/N,” he turns around, tears in his eyes. “Give me this, I’ll put it far away from you.” He takes the remaining grinds and sets it down. I brush away what’s closest to my eyes so I can see and try to shake it off my sweater but they stick to the fibers of the knit.

“Great,” I grumble. “This is dry clean only.”

“It’s in your hair,” he runs his fingers through the strands that hang over my shoulder. I shake my head to dislodge the grinds; his fingers brush my neck away and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Uhm, that should be most of it.”

“It’s not out of this sweater,” I pout. “Screw dry clean, why did I think I could buy dry cleaning clothes?”

“I can drop it off on the way out today?” he offers.

“That means you’re coming back to drop it off to me?!” I ask hopefully.

His expression softens, “Y/N I’m coming back to your flat. I promise.”

“He promises!” I shout. Even though things were a bit awkward this morning, I got to spend more time with my hard-to-catch best friend and for that I was over the moon.

“We could also try to vacuum the sweater?” Harry suggests.

“So you don’t have to come back with dry clean?” I tease. “I’m not letting you get out of your promise, let me give it to you before you change your mind.” I tug my top off and ball it up, shoving it in his hands. It falls to the floor when he doesn’t hold it.

“Hello?” I look up and he’s a deer in the headlights. “Harry...”

“I can’t do this right now,” he takes a step back. I get the sweater from the ground and hold it out to him again.

“Do you want to wipe the kitchen floor with the sweater too? Take it!” I sigh. “Harry are you really acting so chaste about seeing a girl in her bra?”

“It’s-” he decides to stop mid-word. “You’re not just any girl Y/N, I’ve already made it clear.”

Now it’s my turn to stare--he hadn’t made it clear. “You said you only felt something when you were younger...”

“And you believed me?”

I realize I didn’t, but I wanted to believe him so I hadn’t questioned it. “Well it’s not the first time you’ve seen me in a bra. Can you take the damn sweater?”

“Yeah I can I’m just...” he seems to calm down a bit, enough to step towards me and take it. “I didn’t have to face this conflicted feeling in me if I didn’t see you often. I can just be the best friend. But now, with the whole psychic thing and you in--like this in your kitchen and I--I’m remembering how much I just want to...”

“Kiss me,” I say.

“Yeah...” he looks away.

“No, I’m telling you to kiss me.” I clarify. His expression would’ve made me laugh if my heart wasn’t beating so fast. I couldn’t believe I was being this impulsive.

“Really? You’re not just saying that cuz of this morning?”

“Fine,” I step out of his reach and cross my arms to hide my shaking hands. “If you don’t want to kiss me-”

He pulls me back too quickly and I bump into his chest. “I never said that.” He says in a tone I’d never heard from him before, it’s serious and sexy and it sends tingles through my body. I press myself up against him and he finally, finally, kisses me. Every bit of tension and anxiety the day had built up releases in the single moment his lips cover mine.

How had I waited this long?

The kiss is gentle, delicate like he’s still not entirely sure I want the same thing he does. I show him I do by using my tongue to open his mouth slowly and the hesitation disappears immediately. We’re a fighter jet taking off from there; I don’t know where I end and where he begins as he walks me to the kitchen island and lifts me onto it, our limbs tangling together, His hands roam down the side of my body, but he stays in the safe zones until I unclasp my bra.

“Oh hell no,” my roommate’s voice interrupts us from behind. I hold my bra close and turn. She stands at the entryway, shaking her head. “Not here. Not on our kitchen island. You two have a room literally 10 feet away...”

“Oops,” I say quietly which seems to set Harry off. My roommate is still shaking her head but I see the smile on her face. I’d caught her hooking up on multiple occasions so it wasn’t anything new. But I didn’t do this often. I jump down, apologizing to her. “Harry’s going to clean the coffee off the floor...I-I’ll find a shirt.”

“Mhm,” she closes her bedroom door and I look over at Harry who’s crouching on the floor in tears.

“This is all your fault!” I whisper but he tugs me down to where he is and holds my face as he kisses me.

“I know you two aren’t behind the island,” my roommate’s voice comes out again. I stay there as her footsteps move to the bathroom and the door closes behind her.

“I hate you,” I skirt out of his reach, and rush to my room yelling another sorry as I head back and find a top. Harry appears in my room as I put it on.

“I guess that was a good time for her to walk in on before it got too far?” he still has a stupid grin on his face.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” my cheeks were burning and even more so that Harry was elated.

“I’ve actually got to head out now.”

I pout but he kisses my pout instead. He promises he’ll be back in the evening and I let him go with one more kiss, my mind catching up with everything that just happened.

Oh my god.

***

It’s nearly 8 by the time I’m done running all my errands--taking holidays off for work was usually a good decision for me. I had a big family and picking up all the holiday bits before I flew back home was always a big job. I take an Uber home, I couldn’t handle a 40 minutes trip back home carrying everything home on the subway.

I call out to my roommate when I get in but she doesn’t respond. I check her door and it’s open and dark, the bathroom is also empty. She must have evening plans.

I open my door to a surprise. Harry is sprawled on my bed. He jerks awake when I settle my bags down.

“Y/N?” he squints as I turn the light on.

“How did you get in here?” I shrug my coat off.

“Y’roommate let me in before she left,” he rubs his eyes. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep...I had a whole thing planned.”

I’d gone over the whole morning during my errands, surprised and excited and nervous about this new step for us. But I continued to think about what the psychic said, our love lines extended alongside my life line. Even though there wasn’t much comfort or trust in a psychic who used a photo opp as a marketing opp, what she said had come true. And I put my faith in that, calming my nerves about this new step potentially ruining our friendship forever.

“Was that okay?” Harry sits up. “She didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Oh no that’s fine,” I unwrap my scarf and stand at the foot of my bed. “I really wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”

“Of course I would,” he reaches for my hand. “I wouldn’t leave you after this morning, I’m not that flighty.”

“Well we never really got to talk about it,” I say as I sit down. I’d texted him during the day but it never showed he read it, I wasn’t sure how to read into that; finding him passed out on my room meant he was probably on the go all day.

“Are you okay with this?” he says with such concern, I nearly tear up. This was making me way too emotional.

“I am,” I smile at my best friend in the whole world. “I just don’t want to go too fast.”

“We won’t,” he promises as he holds his arms out. I lean in towards his solid chest and he wraps his arms around me. I feel his breath on my cheek, then his lips in my hair. “I’m yours for eternity Y/N, we can take it as slow or fast as you want.”

It was a good thing to say, and I believe him entirely.

We eventually untangle ourselves to get food in us, and even though things are different, they’re also not. We still pick out the same parts of our food to give the other person, we still talk the same shit and laugh at the same jokes. But his hands grasps mine and his thumb brushes over my knuckles absentmindedly. His eyes stay steady on me as I talk like I’m someone new he’s exploring. We kiss after dinner, but we also load the dishwasher and laugh about the one time I’d managed to burn soup from a can. Eventually we end in my bedroom, where we lay together, our conversation growing quieter by the minute, the space between us growing smaller.

And even though we’d slept like this a hundred times before, it’s different now. I can feel it in every atom of my being, I was his and he was mine. And I don’t know how long it’s been like this for it to feel so easy, but accepting it was a no brainer, like accepting the sky was blue or the sun was hot. I remember the advice the psychic gave, I was following it: living the life I had around me even though it wasn’t the life I thought I would have.

There were a million things Harry and I had to figure out to make this work--I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But I did know that it was right, it was true, and it was going to be forever.

The future may not be crystal clear, but my future with this man was.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #fic #writingsfromhome #friends to lovers #standalone #holiday fic #ignore any grammar or errors pls ty

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annieharkness · 4 years ago

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Glimpses: Part 15 (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 // previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter

Summary: The Aftermath.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: hello there! hope this makes up for all the drama I caused 😅 also, if the formatting is off: excuse me, this was written AND POSTED entirely on my phone. Have fun!!!

Tag List: @danvers97 @zafirosreverie @srtamercurio @wanatag @pulledbythestars17 @plantowl @spacehahn @sarahp-stan @agentbrownierso @our-blood-is-our-ink @fruityhahn

_____________________________________________________________________________

“NO! No no no no.” Kathryn paces up and down in her hotel room. “HOW DID THEY KNOW?”

Jennifer, who is sitting on the couch, computer in her hands, looks at Agnes, who is leaning against the wall. “I’m so sorry, Kathryn.”

“This is a disaster!” She looks devastated.

“Actually, it’s press and any press is good press. PLUS, Jeffrey is a good catch.” Jennifer scans another article.

Kathryn paces towards her, takes the computer out of her hands and sits down on the couch herself as Jennifer gets up to give her some space. Leaning back into the pillows, the actress looks like a mess. A grey tank top falls loosely of her shoulders and her unbrushed hair frames her face that is in painful distress. She puts the computer down on the tiny desk next to the couch and reads an article discussing if Jeffrey and her are Hollywood’s new favorite couple.

The article promises an update and as she clicks on the link provided, she looks at very private pictures taken of herself in her hotel room. Someone must have added the numbers up and figured out where she was staying to stalk and observe her through the window that she, stupidly, didn’t close right away last night. A short series of pictures shows her in front of the window, Jeffrey behind her. Him right in front of her as he leans in for a kiss. Another one of her getting undressed. Another one of him in just his underwear during a photo shoot for another project.

Stressed and in disbelief, she doesn’t even finish reading the captions and quickly sits up again to smack the device closed. Shaking her head, she stares at the floor.

“Kathryn? Are you okay?” Agnes asks cautiously.

——-

“Honey? Are you okay?” Alex asks as you continuously stare at your screen with empty eyes.

You continue staring. “Y/N! You worry me.”

Alex sits down again and places the phone next to her so you look like you are sitting righty with her on the couch. She has been trying to calm you down ever since she got up this morning. Right as she read the first article, she knew the situation was bad.

“Hey… it’ll all make sense in the end. She wouldn’t do that. You know that! You know the press!” Alex really tries and you appreciate it, yet, right now, it’s hard for you to show your gratitude.

“Hm…” you hum and nod with empty eyes.

Ever since you’ve read the article, you have been waiting for Kathryn to reach out. She must have seen it. Jennifer must have seen it. Maybe they all did and it’s the truth and that’s why no one is saying anything.

Alex looks at you again. “It’s probably rumors! You know how it works.” More than ever before, she wishes she could simply wrap you you up in a long and loving hug and make you feel better. Sometimes, it’s hard for her to believe that you’ve been friends for as long as you have and the actress you are bonding about had more physical contact with you than she did. What a story to tell.

“I know,” you say, but the pictures keep being projected inside your head, “but the pictures. These… the pictures! His hands, the hotel, her not talking to me. It all just adds up.”

Alex sighs. You do, too. You both sit in silence.

———-

Still staring at the floor, Kathryn tenses. “Oh my god.”

The other woman stare at her with raised eyebrows.

“Y/N!! I was thinking about the press and all and totally forgot.. she must have read it! OH GOD. She… she…”

“You should probably call her…” Agnes nods.

Jennifer shakes her head. “Not now. You’re way too emotional over all of this. We should organize the press first. Write a statement if you really want to. But really, it isn’t that big of a deal.”

Agnes turns around harshly and faces Jennifer with a stern look on her face. “Excuse me, can you please be her friend again for a minute?” she points at Kathryn, “does she look like it’s not that big of a deal?”

They both face Kathryn again, who has gotten up to get dressed. Without another word, she walks past her friends and employees and storms out of the door, on her way to discuss the matter with Jeffrey.

Meanwhile, Jennifer decides to take matters into her own hands, since Kathryn seems to be way too distressed to hold a serious conversation today. Rumors about her client being with someone aren’t exactly new, but pictures taken of private situations are unacceptable. Without consulting Kathryn again, she decides to publish the statement right away to help her friend.

——-

It’s been two days since the incident and Kathryn hasn’t contacted you yet. Heartbroken, you got updated on the story as her team released a statement declaring that Kathryn wants to keep her privacy and asks for the pictures to be removed off of the internet.

You wish she would’ve called you, or at least texted, but little did you know that she got into a fight with Jeffrey as his team called the pictures good press for him and decided to not do anything about it. Following that, Jennifer took Kathryn’s phone away so that the actress could fully concentrate on the project for the rest of the week of shooting. A rule written into the contract by Kathryn herself, as she is aware she gets carried away from time to time.

Right as she has her phone back, she runs for an empty space and tries to call you. It’s the early afternoon and you are in an online class as your phone starts ringing. Reading her name, your heart drops to the floor. All the stress adds up and gets combined with the anger you feel inside of you. You take the call.

Her face fills the screen and her eyes widen as she sees the state you are in. “Honey, I’m so sorry.”

There is a moment of silence. A moment of silence where a storm is raging inside you. “NO. No. You don’t get to be like that. You don’t get to break my heart and then come back apologizing, asking me to pretend nothing happened!” Kathryn’s mouths is slightly agape and her even widen even more. She listens. “I gave you my heart, Kathryn! My time. Do you really think I’m whoring around? Staying with older woman to play round just like that? Is that what you think I am? A toy?”

You are enraged and the words keep coming and you want to call her names and scream, hold onto her and look into her eyes. But you can’t. You can’t and that’s why your words are turning into a waterfall of emotions and you yell at her as she doesn’t have a chance to react in any way.

“I can’t believe myself,” you shake your head. “I offer myself to you and there you are. Going out and sleeping with a man. A MAN. Excuse me for not having a career. Excuse me for not having a six pack like your new friend does. What the fuck, Kathryn. What the actual fuck.”

Kathryn realizes you saw the pictures. Of course you did. She raises her hand to give you a signal that she wants to talk. Your mouth, ready to rant again, closes and you look at her.

She takes a breath. “It isn’t true.”

“It…. Isn’t?” You squint your eyes.

“It isn’t.”

————

2 days ago

————

“Come and spend the night with me.”

Kathryn swirls around. “WHAT?”

Before she can help herself, she finds herself pinned against a table that is close to the window. Jeffreys face is only inches away as he slowly starts to lean in.

“STOP.” She says and tries to lean back.

Obviously confused, Jeffrey looks at her. “I thought we had a great night. What’s the problem, sweetheart? Don’t you miss having with… other people?” He smiles.

Kathryn shakes her head. “I’m… I’m seeing someone, Jeffrey. I’m sorry if this came across wrong but tonight wasn’t a date.”

He distances himself from her, utter disbelief plastered across his face. “Oh no.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not a problem. I just… I can’t. You’re a great man, but, no.”

He is still putting space in between them, looking at her with worried eyes. “Kathryn, I would’ve never. I thought you were flirting. I thought you sent signs. God, I am sorry for coming this close to you.. I… I’m just gonna leave, alright? Okay! Good night, Kathryn.”

“JEFF!” She calls for him before he can close the door. “You’re a good looking man. I bet lots of woman would kill to be me right now, but please, ask. Don’t just assume. Yeah?”

He nods and with that he leaves her room. As the door falls into its lock, Kathryn undresses her blazer and shirt and remembers to close the curtains before stripping completely to hop into the shower.

—————-

“It isn’t…..” you repeat.

“No. And I would never do that to you.” She looks at you with sad eyes. “And I can��t believe you would think I do.”

You look at each other for a moment and the sad smile on her face breaks your heart once again.

“I would never….” She repeats, whispering quietly, but loud enough for you to notice. “I would never, because….”

She stops and looks up to lock eyes with you. You are both crying and your heartbeat skips a few beats and you think you might actually pass out any second.

“I would never because I am falling. For you. I would never because I think I am in love with you.”

#kathryn hahn #kathryn hahn x reader #kathryn hahn fan fiction #kathryn hahn x you #kathryn hahn fanfiction #glimpses #groupie #groupie au

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eternally-writing · 4 years ago

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chain reaction | jjk

genre: fluff and angst

rating: PG

pairing: Jungkook x reader

theme: college!au , enemies to lovers, series

word count: 1.3k

warnings: light swearing

synopsis: A semester with your mortal enemy, Jeon Jungkook, as your lab partner was bound to be an experience to remember.

banner by me!

A/N: hey everyone! This is my first series that I’m writing and I’m so excited to share it with all of you! If you want to be tagged in future parts, reblog and mention that you want to be tagged in the caption, or you can send me an ask!

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

“You’re late”

Swinging your backpack onto the lab bench beside you, you glare at your lab partner.

“Shut up Jeon, it’s only 8:04am and our TA hasn’t even finished introducing the lab yet”.

Introduction to Organic Chemistry was all set up to be your favorite class. You were a chemistry genius in high school, your professor had amazing “rate my professor” reviews, and the class fit perfectly into your schedule, finishing right at 2:00pm so you could walk back to your dorm under the radiance of the afternoon sun.

It was all going well until you walked into your 8:00AM lab and found that due to budget cuts, all labs would now be done in pairs. And you had been paired with none other than the bane of your existence, Jeon Jungkook. As if doing an amide reduction wasn’t hard enough on its own, you had to do it alongside the biggest thorn in your side.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly what it was about him that irked you so much. Maybe it was the way the girls tried to flirt with his constantly over the open flame of a Bunsen burner, or the way that he sucks up to your extremely old TA in order to get full marks on his procedural skills, or maybe it’s the fact that he somehow managed to look effortlessly put together at 8am on a Tuesday morning, while you looked (and felt) like absolute crap.

Either way, you were counting down the seconds until this semester would be over and you wouldn’t have to look at Jeon Jungkook again, but time seemed to be moving extra slow today.

“Late and spacing out today? Wow, lucky me to have you as a lab partner.”

Scoffing at him, you adjusted your protective glasses and readied your labware for today.

“180 minutes until I’m free. That’s it,” you thought to yourself.

“Technically it’s 170 minutes now, but if we don’t get started someone soon so we can hand in our product by 11am, we’re going to be here for a lot longer than that.”, snapped Jungkook next to you, already starting to mix chemicals together in a beaker.

Well, looks like your habit of accidentally saying things out loud gets worse when you’re tired.

“Let’s just try and get through this lab today without stepping on each other’s toes Jeon, okay?” you said, trying to catch up to Jungkook in the lab.

There was one part of chemistry labs you disliked the most. The waiting time. In some labs it was only 30 minutes, while in other labs it had taken almost an hour, but the constant in all of the situations was that waiting made it feel like time was passing at an infinitely slower rate. Taking out your laptop would violate lab safety protocol, and you couldn’t do any further steps in your lab until your reaction in your solution was done progressing under the fume hood. Since there were no other options, the only other thing left to do in moments like this was talk to Jeon Jungkook.

“So I was -”

“What did you -”

Yikes, add the awkwardness of starting conversation with Jeon Jungkook to the reasons you never talk to him. You decided to pause and let him carry on with whatever he was saying, giving him a semi-pleasant smile to hopefully help distract from the embarrassment you were feeling.

“I was going to ask what you wanted to do our lab presentation on,” said Jungkook.

Your eyes widened at his statement. Looking at the whiteboard situated at the side of the room, you saw that in the 4 minutes you were late to your lab you may not have missed your TA explaining the procedure, but you did the big words on the board that said:

“FINAL LAB PRESENTATION: 3 weeks from now, worth 20% of your grade, done with your lab. 5-10 page paper and 10-15 minute oral presentation”.

Unable to contain your discontentment with the situation, you let out a groan and leaned back in your chair in frustration, almost falling off your lab stool in the process.

“Well aren’t you just little Miss Sunshine today? I’m not thrilled about this either, but I’d rather pull out my eyelashes than have to repeat this course again next semester,” scoffed Jungkook.

No morning ice coffee + Jeon Jungkook being annoying + a looming group project was more enough to make your head hurt.

“Can we just talk about this later Jeon? My brain can’t process this right now,” you pleaded as you put your head in your hands.

Leaning closer to you, Jungkook spoke at a whisper-level near your ear so nobody else would hear.

“Is your brain too busy processing my charm, sunshine? Don’t worry, I’ll try and tone down the charisma for you,” he joked with a smirk.

Your head went from being in your hands to plopping flat onto your (no longer sterile) lab counter at Jungkook’s comment.

First of all, ew. You don’t know how Jungkook was possibly picking up girls by talking like that. Second of all, charm and charisma were probably two words that you would NEVER associate with Jungkook, so his statement was definitely wrong.

A project with Jungkook meant that you would be spending a LOT more time with him, and the prospect of that happening made you wince internally. Group projects meant libraries, evenings, and , ugh, probably weekends with Jeon Jungkook.

You were snapped out of your internal despair by the sound of Jungkook’s voice.

“Hand me your phone.”

You froze. “Hm?”

“Well I don’t know what you think of me Y/N, but unless you think I can read your mind we’re going to need to text to figure out when to meet.”

Giving in, you quickly tossed your phone into his open palm while grabbing his phone which was sitting on top of his backpack.

Glancing over his shoulder, you took a peek at your contact name.

“little miss sunshine? really Jeon?”

“Of course sunshine, i had to pick a name that encapsulated your positive and radiant energy,” he retorted, sarcasm practically dripping off of his words.

You definitely were picking your battles today, and one over a silly contact name didn’t seem to be worth it.

“You can do whatever, Jeon, but you’re sticking in my phone as “Jeon Boy” and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“We’ll see about that Y/N,” remarked Jungkook as he opened up his lab manual to read the next steps in the procedure.

Your mom had always taught you that the word “hate” was a very strong word and was only to be used in extreme situations. To this day, there were only 3 people in your life that you truly hated in every sense of the word: your ex-boyfriend, Jimin, your ENGL 101 Professor, Dr.Lee, and your neighbor’s cat, Mr. Whiskers, who chewed up your grade 8 science project the day before it was due.

You wouldn’t say that you hate Jungkook, but you were definitely getting close.

“Yknow, I don’t like you Jeon. Actually, scratch that, I really don’t like you.”

Glancing over at the timer on your lab bench finally reaching 0:00, Jungkook began walking over to the fume hood. Turning back to you, he smirked and started to speak.

“Well, the feeling’s mutual sunshine.”

Boy, this was definitely going to be a long semester.

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

If you want to be tagged in future parts, reblog and mention that you want to be tagged in the caption (or you can send me an ask)!

If you liked what you read, please write/follow! Thank you for reading♡

- Emily

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et-lesailes · 5 years ago

Text

the instagram error

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 1208

summary: you and chris’ secret relationship is about to become public all because he has no idea how to use instagram...

themes: fluff, comedy

taglist: @evanstush, @tanyam93, @bval-1, @wonderwinchester, @patzammit, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @sammyslonglostshoe, @jadedhillon, @bohemian-barbie, @whysparker, @sebastian-i-stan, @sebabestianstan101, @lille-kattunge, @teller258316, @peach-acid, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @bangtan-serendipity, @troublermalik, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @bookish-shristi, @kind-sober-fullydressed, @gingerninjaprincess16, @straightforwardly, @denisemarieangelina, @frencchfries, @xlanawriter, @littlemoistcarrot, @pottxrwolff, @arianatheangelworld, @ifuseekamyevans, @southerngracela, @nsfwsebbie, @rororo06, @savemesteeb, @raveviolet, @inactivewhore, @hurricanerinwrites, @captainamerica-is-bae, @shaddixlife, @tessa-bl, @marvelouspottering, @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc, @thegetawaywriter, @dwights-new-plague, @rynabarnesrogers, @fckdeusername

notes: this one’s a little short, but it was just something fun i wanted to write since chris made his instagram! :) graphic creds to @thewritingdoll

You smile in amusement as you rub lotion on your legs having just gotten out of the shower, watching your boyfriend tapping all over the screen of his phone in confusion. “Chris. It’s really not that complicated,” you remark with a laugh from your current seat at the edge of the bed, and he looks up from the device, scoffing playfully. “Look, I barely use this thing as it is unless it’s to occasionally tweet or take pictures of Dodger. Ya can’t blame me for having no idea how Instagram works.”

You giggle softly, standing up and coming over to his side, craning your neck trying to see what he’s posting. “You’re trying to do multiple pictures? Look, you tap on this first,” you explain, pressing on the icon on the right side of the screen, “then you select all the images you want in order.”

“Ohh.” Chris nods, grinning up at you. “Thanks, baby.” You chuckle softly as you go to the walk in closet, slipping out of your robe to change into pajamas. “Mmhm. Anytime.” He fiddles around with the phone for a few more minutes before finally locking it and setting it aside with a sigh. “Alright. That’s over with,” he exhales playfully as if exhausted, and you come back out of the closet dressed in a simple sleep tank with matching shorts. “What a hard life you lead,” you tease, crawling into the bed and yawning. “You ready for bed soon, babe?”

“Oh yes. I’m fucking exhausted.” Chris peels out of his clothing and you can’t help but stare, feeling incredibly thankful that the man sleeps in the nude every night. However, you soon look over to your nightstand, suddenly realizing your phone’s been going off like crazy. Blinking confused, you pick it up and look at the messages from your friends in your group chat.

“Giiiirl! That picture Chris just posted? SEXYYYYY!”

“Omg I thought you guys were still keeping the relationship on the dl?”

“Is this your way of telling the fans? Lmaoo”

“But why did he post it with a bunch of pictures of his dog….?”

Your eyes immediately widen as you stare at the flood of messages continuing to come in, now from other friends as well. “Chris,” you slowly murmur, “what the hell did you just post…?”

“Huh?” He looks at you in confusion as he’s getting into bed beside you. “Just some pictures of Dodger from our walk today, you know the really cute ones we took by the lake. Why?”

You take a deep breath and go to Instagram- you don’t even have to go to his profile because the photos pop up first on your feed. You swipe through- cute picture of Dodger, cute picture of Dodger, another cute picture of Dodger…

A mirror selfie of you in lingerie, a photo you had taken and sent to him one time just to tease when he was at work.

“Chris!!!” you practically scream, showing him the phone. When he sees it his blue eyes widen; he jolts up and grabs his phone. “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!!” He goes to his Instagram frantically, tapping the screen flustered. “How do I delete this?! How do you delete a post?!” You practically tear the phone out of his hands, deleting the pictures yourself before tossing it to the other side of the bed as though it’s a bomb.

The two of you slowly look at each other, panicked, discombobulated, stressed… until both of you suddenly burst out in laughter, realizing just how ridiculous the situation is. “Holy fuck. Thank god it wasn’t a nude,” he practically cackles, and you squeal just thinking about it, giggling breathlessly. “Chris. I can’t believe this. We were doing such a good job keeping our relationship a secret,” you laugh, “and it gets leaked from you? From a goddamn Instagram post?” You clap your hands, practically gasping for breath now, your smile stretched wide across your face as your shoulders shake from laughter. “Only you, Chris, only you!”

“Instagram is confusing, okay! Besides, I was doing the fans a favor. Your body is smoking, baby girl.” He points out with a playful smirk, throwing his arms around you tightly. “Shit, both of us are probably getting flooded with comments and DMs right now. We should probably address this, shouldn’t we…?” You sigh, smiling amused as you lean into his hold, holding his arms around you. “I mean, ever since they saw us in Defending Jacob together, they were “shipping” us anyways. It can’t be too surprising, right?” You yawn softly, tilting your head up to kiss him gently. “We’ll make a more formal announcement tomorrow morning. Let’s go to sleep now though, hm?”

Chris looks somewhat thoughtful but nods, leaning over to turn off the light before lying down with you. “Goodnight, Y/N. Love you,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead, and you smile in content as you close your eyes. “Night, Chris. Love you.”

He doesn’t fall asleep just yet, though, despite the fact that you’re already drifting off beside him. Instead, he picks up his phone again, going to Instagram. This time when he makes a post, he’s very careful about selecting the photo he wants, practically triple checking that he hasn’t added anything else. He types up the caption and presses “Share” before settling down, soon falling asleep with his arms around you.

You wake up the next morning earlier than him, blinking sleepily. Picking up your phone to check it before letting yourself go back to sleep, you blink noticing a flood of messages once again.

“I just DIED at chris’ post. You are so lucky omg”

“CHRIS IS TOO SWEET!!!!! Pls stay together forever”

“I’m still crying rn omg he is so romantic”

You check your other notifications. Chris has tagged you in an Instagram post? You go to the picture and immediately widen your eyes in surprise.

It’s a selfie of you, Chris, and Dodger- Chris has his arms around you and his head on your shoulder, his blue eyes sparkling happily and his lips close to your cheek. Dodger is on your other side, his own mouth practically pulled back into a smile as his tongue hangs out. Your eyes drift to the caption.

“Alright guys. Pretty sure almost all of you caught my little Instagram mess up, so it’s time to come clean. I don’t normally do stuff like this but I want to with this girl. This girl right here is the love of my life, AND the love of Dodger’s too. We met on the set of Defending Jacob and the rest is history. I’m so lucky to have her. She’s a little ball of love and energy, and she even manages to make this quarantine full of delight and excitement each and every day. I hope you guys can respect our relationship and show her the same love you show me.

And yes, she sends me some pretty sexy pictures. ;)”

You giggle softly to yourself, glancing down at the sleeping man beside you. God, you love this man.

You set the phone aside and snuggle back into him, closing your eyes to fall back asleep, the soft smile remaining on your lips.

#chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fluff #chris evans x you

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fablesrose · 5 years ago

Text

Because I Am

Description: Worth and the heart are very fragile things. Sometimes it’s good to know when to walk away.

Pairing: Dr. Stephen Strange x reader

Word count: 2,136

Warnings: break-ups, implied cheating

A/n: This was written for @angelinathebook‘s 300 follower writing challenge, congrats on 1,000 followers babe! The prompt I chose was “You’re not worth it,” it will be in bold. Enjoy!

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Late, again.

I checked my watch, seeing the minute hand tick past the hour mark. I sat in the cafe only a couple streets away from my flat with my favorite drink and scone. It had been nice to take the morning off, but I was hoping my boyfriend would join me like I asked him to.

This marks the third date that he’s either been late, or not shown at all. It was starting to look like it was going to be the latter. I started to wonder if he was losing interest again. The last time that happened the only reason we got back together was because of the time apart, we thought we were different people so we gave it another go.

But never had he forgotten my birthday. That made me wonder if he got caught up with his duties in the sanctum. He always was a workaholic. And because of that he’s on his third chance.

Chances. Everybody knows I give a lot to many. Maybe too many to too many people. Every chance given is a piece of my heart that’s cracked. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it doesn’t pay off. Sometimes even then, after more were given than was deserved, they have the audacity to ask for one more.

I sighed and shook myself out of my thoughts, coming to the conclusion that Stephen wasn’t coming. It’s alright, I’ll just pop by the New York sanctum to say hello. I grabbed my drink and headed towards the London sanctum, the one I study in. Not very often do I enter the sanctums in my casual clothes, but everyone knew I wasn’t due back to work until later this afternoon.

I said hello to those I passed in the hallways and eventually I reached the doors to the other sanctums. Still sipping on my drink I walked through and wandered the hallways trying to find my over worked boyfriend. I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t find him. He’s always moving and I wasn’t as familiar with this one as the one in London. So instead I went to the library where I knew I’d find Wong.

“Welcome Y/n.” Wong didn’t look up from his book as I approached.

“Hey, Wong,” I perched myself on the corner of the desk and craned my neck to see what he was reading, “Spiritus pax, et imperium… That’s a good one I’ve heard. Haven’t gotten around to it.”

Wong nodded to show he heard me, but didn’t make much of an effort for small talk.

“Wong, have you seen Stephen today?”

He looked up at me, “No, he texted and said he was spending the morning with you.”

That doesn’t seem right, “That’s odd since he didn’t show for breakfast two hours ago...”

We both shrugged at each other.

“Oh well, I guess I’ll wait for him to get in, I took the whole morning off.”

Wong turned back to his book, “You are welcome to stay as long as you would like.”

“Thanks.”

I stayed perched on the desk and pulled out my phone. I started to scroll through Instagram to pass the time. Eventually I scrolled through all of the new posts and decided to hop over to Stephen’s profile.

It took a long time to convince him to get one and he hardly ever used it, as shown by the next to no pictures posted. He had more pictures in the tagged section, most of them tagged by me. I flipped over there and scrolled to the bottom to start at the beginning.

I enjoyed scrolling through pictures of us that I had taken. Some of them were silly, far and spread between cute moments on adventures. I particularly liked the one where we sat together on the Ferris Wheel. Stephen had taken my phone when I pulled it out to take a picture of the view. He quickly used his long arms to snap a picture of him kissing my cheek. He caught me laughing with my eyes closed, and managed to angle so the colors of the sunset were in the background. It was my favorite picture.

I finally reached the top with the most recent pictures when I noticed one that I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t uncommon, Stephen had other friends that tagged him in things, so it wasn’t the first I didn’t know.

The picture was part of a brunette’s face, her hair clearly messy from just waking up. The picture had the purpose of catching the background, and clearly visible was Stephen looking over his shoulder at her. He had a half smile and was wearing the shirt I got him only a couple of weeks ago. That’s how I knew it was recent, despite it being posted just this morning. I noticed he was wearing the shorts he usually wore to bed which made my heart start to sink.

The caption read: Look at how cute my boo is! He’s so sweet to make me breakfast, Love you!

I could tell my the picture that it wasn’t Stephen’s apartment, and all of it together caused my stomach to twist.

I didn’t look up from the picture, “Wong?”

“Hm?”

“Were those his exact words? That he was hanging out with me?”

He looked up from his book again, looking a bit puzzled, “No… He said he was spending the morning with his girlfriend. Why?”

I tapped the side of my phone for a moment before deciding to show him the picture.

“Wong, what does that seem like to you?” I held my breath, waiting for him to call me crazy.

He took a deep breath, “It looks like he’s cheating on you.”

I sighed heavily, “That’s what I thought...” I boosted myself off of the table, “Well! I guess my morning off is being cut short. If you need me I’ll be next door.”

Wong nodded at me with a concerned look on his face, but didn’t move to stop me.

I quickly went to the London sanctum and changed into my instructor robes. I didn’t have a set class, instead I went where I was needed, giving a helping hand with the children.

I taught the classes with a heavy heart, but I surprised myself with dry eyes. It’s impossible to stay in too bad of a mood when you are in the midst of little ones, though. They giggled when they were supposed to be concentrating, and made funny faces when they concentrated too hard.

Before I knew it, the end of the day came. All the classes scheduled were completed, and I wasn’t booked on the night shift at the sanctum, so I was able to go home.

I was packing up my things after the final class of the day when a little girl tugged on my sleeve. She pulled a beautiful flower from behind her back and stretched her arm out towards me. She whispered timidly, “Happy birthday, Miss.”

I was shocked. In the midst of everything going on I had forgotten it was my own birthday, and hardly anyone knows when it is. I squatted down to her level and looked up towards the exit to see some of the older students who I have taught for ages looking at the scene expectantly. I smiled and waved softly at them before turning my attention back to the young girl handing me a flower. It had magical golden sparkles dripping around and on the petals, mesmerizing me.

I gently took the stem from her hand and held her cheek in one hand. I kissed her hairline quickly but softly, “Thank you, little one. I love it.”

She beamed up at me and bolted to her fellow students.

I didn’t want to crush the flower in my bag, and I knew I couldn’t walk home with the flower out in the open, but I also wanted to enjoy the slight sprinkle that had started on the glass windows, so I quickly used my sling ring to open a portal just big enough to place the flower in the glass of water I remembered I left on the counter this morning.

I walked home slowly, hearing the soft pat pat pat of the rain against the pavement next to me was soothing. By the time I reached my flat my hair was just wet enough to stick to my face. I left the lights dim and started to make myself dinner. I wasn’t sure how everything was going to go from here, I didn’t know what moves I would have to make, or what he would do in turn. So, instead of worrying or even reacting to it, I was going to think, I was going to continue as I have, and I wasn’t going to let it rule over me.

At least, that was my plan until Stephen himself walked through my flat door, using the spare key he keeps. He was still in his sanctum wear and his hair was dripping, slightly tinged white from the gel that no longer kept his hair in it’s place. I couldn’t help but smile at the look.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” His features formed into something that was almost concern, but not quite, and all of the sudden the quiet little moment of him looking silly and not a care in the world was broken.

My smile faltered slightly, “Yeah, why do you ask?” I subconsciously picked up his ring of keys that he dropped on the counter. I did it often, so he didn’t notice when I subtly removed my flat key as I was fiddling with it.

“Wong said you were upset.”

“Ah...” I turned back towards the stove to give my meal a stir, “You- You didn’t come to breakfast this morning.” I guess I was doing this, I just hope I could do it slowly.

“Oh, was that today? I got a call from someone who needed some of my guidance in the Hong Kong sanctum.”

So now he was blatantly lying to me. Fantastic.

“I saw you wore that shirt I got you today, I’m glad you like it.” I kept my voice calm, even, and terribly bland. I was afraid if I showed anything, I would show everything.

There was a pause where I’m sure Stephen was puzzling over what that meant. I heard the click of his phone unlocking and then the sharp intake of breath.

“Did you...” He trailed off nervously.

I turned just enough to see that he had Instagram pulled up on his phone. I hummed softly, “So...” I turned to lean against the counter and face him, “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

He was caught off guard and started to sputter silently. Maybe I was secretly hoping for a good explanation, that was his sister or a cousin who’s place he crashed at for whatever reason, his neighbor was feeling sick, and they have that kind of relationship, anything, really. I kinda think I would have bought it too.

But no, instead, after he stopped sputtering, he fell silent completely. He offered no explanation, not even a lame excuse. I nodded to myself and pushed myself to stand. I walked to the door and opened it, standing to the side to let my now ex-boyfriend pass.

“You could have just said you were losing interest Stephen.”

He had just stepped across the threshold when he turned around, “Y/n, one more chance. Please.”

Even him asking was breaking my heart again. Just like all the other times someone asked for just one more chance. I decided I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t lose anymore of myself to giving one more chance to those who didn’t earn it.

“No.”

I started to close the door before he asked, no, he pleaded, “Why?”

I paused and held his gaze firmly, “You’re not worth it.”

I closed the door the rest of the way and when he made a move to keep it open I used the sling ring I slipped onto my finger to make his hand fall through, keeping him from stopping me. I locked the door and slid to the floor.

It was done.

I finished my dinner slowly. Everything seemed so bland, but I didn’t regret it. I was just so tired. Maybe I should have seen the signs. All I knew was that I lived a nice life full of wonder and magic. And that was enough for me.

Later that evening I gently touched the sparkling flower I was given. I played the conversation in my head over and over. I gazed into my own eyes in the mirror as I approached the last lines.

“Why?”

“You’re not worth it.”

Because I am.

Tag list: Send me an ask or a message if you want to be added or removed!

@kitkatd7 @snarky--starky @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @kaogasm

#stephen strange #dr strange #dr strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #lenas300challenge #marvel #mcu #mcu fic #one-shot #one shot #Because I Am #because i am

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mulletcal · 5 years ago

Text

flowers, maybe daisies, might relieve the gloom. - an a.i blurb

a/n: i lowkey blame @sexgodashton for starting this whole mini series of boomer!ash things, but i also adore this because boomer!ash is soft as hell. and also a lil d*ddy but we don’t need to talk about that. title is from wait by sweeney todd bc i love it. alternative title was gonna be from L.G. FUAD by motion city soundtrack

word count:

warnings: ashton irwin being a thirst trapping, lemon stealing whore. i’m kidding it’s just a solo ash fic w no smut but some mild ash thirst trapping.

-----

‘ashtonirwin started a live video.’

Ashton didn’t often go live on Instagram, but this shelter in place order had left him ultimately bored - writing a song every day before noon, sure, but anything after that was a blur. Occasionally he would have interviews or live-streams with the band, but on days without that he was left alone with his thoughts, and his thoughts weren’t always the safest place to be; so talking to fans it was.

It was going well so far, simply asking fans how their quarantine was going - bringing some of them into the livestream so he could talk to some face to face. One girl in particular had caught his attention when they began to discuss hobbies she had picked up during the time she’d spent at home.

“Yeah, I’m learning to garden. I have a tomato plant that is just starting to sprout actual tomatoes, so that’s kind of exciting,” She had said, a nervous laugh escaping.

“Well, I would hope that your tomato plant is sprouting tomatoes, it would be a little concerning if it was growing something else,” Ashton replied with a chuckle, the girl giving a small shrug but still laughing along with him.

“You should look into it if you’ve got the room at your house, I bet it would feel rather rewarding to be able to cook something with your own fresh vegetables.”

“Would save me quite a bit of money too. Can I grow yeast? I’d like to learn how to make my own bread but here in L.A. you can’t find yeast anywhere.”

The conversation continued like that for a few minutes more, Ashton taking only a couple more fans into the livestream after that to talk to before he decided he should probably do something else productive with his day. Something like learning to garden.

It surprised Ashton the things you were able to order online during this time - soil being the main thing. He also read that saving coffee grounds would help, and he was excited at the idea of his insane coffee habit wouldn’t be completely useless. He ended up buying seeds for tomatoes, mint, sunflowers, lemongrass, and zucchini. The lemongrass and mint was specifically for Calum, realizing he would be able to dry the plants out once he had harvested them so he could make the man his very own tea.

When his package finally arrived, Ashton spread the packages out, sliding them across the table as though he was some card dealer in Las Vegas. Thinking the fans would find it amusing, he took a picture of the spread and added it to his story with the caption of ‘pick a card, any card…’. Maybe it would only be funny to him, but it did prompt a fire reaction from Michael.

It seemed as though the reaction from fans were positive though, them taking to Twitter to let him know their excitement about his new endeavour. That’s where his weekly livestreams began. He would show everyone the progress he was making with his plants, and just in general him chatting with fans. Ashton never really thought of how refreshing it could be to just talk to the fans, without the worry of time restrictions or anyone’s personal safety in the way; in fact, it left him rather inspired, loving their fans even more if it were at all possible.

A particularly warm day in L.A. left Ashton wondering if he should go out to the garden that day - but it was the day he would normally livestream, and he was excited to show what he was up to that day. Ashton wanted to plant another tomato plant, and also the lemons on his infamous tree had enough for him to make some lemonade so he was going to go through that as well.

Clad in some cut off jeans, or as Calum so affectionately called them his jorts, and a white tank top, he pulled up the live option on Instagram and waited for the people to begin to filter in before he started to speak.

“Hey guys! Just gonna wait for more of you to filter in before I actually head outside, but I thought that since you guys love my lemon tree so much, I’d make some lemonade. Fuck, I sound like a YouTuber. Is that gonna be my next career, is just YouTube tutorials on how to make shitty lemonade?” Ashton laughed to himself, slicing the lemon so he could juice it, ignoring the comments he saw about murdering his lemon children.

It didn’t take him long to make the lemonade, making mild conversation with the fans while he stirred in a little bit of sugar and some cheat mint he had ordered while waiting for his own to grow.

“Alright, now that I’m waiting for that to cool, probably best we go outside and check on those tomatoes, hm?”

It had been weird at first, talking to himself; but he quickly realized that he talked to himself anyways, even without the phone in front of him, so it couldn’t have been too weird for anyone who could overhear him.

“So I wanted to plant another tomato plant today, because everyone can use a friend right now, you know?” He looked into the camera, a smile spreading across his face when he saw the flood of cute little emojis that followed. “M’gonna be like the Bob Ross of gardening. No mistakes, only happy accidents or whatever it was he said.”

Ashton began to work away at his garden, building up a sweat in the process. It wasn’t until he leaned back, glancing at his phone did he see a text from Michael flash across the top.

‘Mate, Crystal said stop thirst trapping the fans.’

Ashton’s brow furrowed, unsure of what the text was saying, “Okay so I just got a text from Michael - what’s thirst trapping? And am I currently doing it?”

Of all the comments that followed, he noticed one that said ‘I mean… I’m not gonna say either way but take a look at yourself and get back to us’. Another one told him that it was when someone wears something in order to provoke risque texts, or gain attention from someone.

Ashton pouted, looking down at his appearance. He was kind of sweaty, but he didn’t think that the fans would mind him being covered in dirt and sweat, it’s not as though they had to smell him. Though, he would admit that he needed a shower.

“Well, since my tomato plant has been… planted next to its’ friend, and I’m apparently thirst trapping you all, I should probably go shower and clean up. Is me mentioning a shower thirst trapping as well?” Ashton rubbed his face over his hands, a small huff leaving his lips, “I don’t know… Fellow youths, tweet me and lemme know. Also, may hold a poll later on what to name these guys.” He flipped the camera around, struggling for a moment, to show the sunflowers that were starting to sprout, “M’thinking of naming one Denise. Just seems like a Denise.”

After his small speech was over, he ended the stream, grinning to himself. He hadn’t meant to show off his body in such a way, but it was funny to know that even with him hardly doing anything but be himself they still lost their shit.

Glancing around at his garden, he felt himself swell with a mild sense of pride. He was still a ways off from seeing any fruits of his labour (literally), but it made him feel good knowing he did something with his time at home, instead of slipping further into his mind which wasn’t always the kindest to him.

Ashton realized that when he was gardening, it was similar to songwriting in a way where all of his self doubts and fears went away and he could just pour himself into it - the reward being well worth the risk in the end.

Once his shower was done, he sat outside in his backyard, sipping his lemonade and enjoying the sunshine - realizing that having to stay home wasn’t all too bad, if it meant he could reset his mind, and do some small part to help how he could during that time.

tag list: @haikucal @talkfastromance4 @softbabiestan @boyfriend-cal @calum-uncrowned @wildflowerirwin @irwindoll @gosh-im-short @thesubtweeter @heavenisapeach @ridingcthood @loveroflrh @mantlereid @inlovehoodx @irwinkitten @n-ctarinenga @g-l-pierce @thecurlsofgod

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin fluff #ashton irwin fanfiction #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #boomer!ash

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choupichoups · 6 years ago

Photo

Press F (Instagram/College AU) Ch.2

Lucas swears he’s the absolute master of undetected stalking. Or: Eliott is instagram famous and Lucas is the disaster gay who accidentally likes his post.

Lucas feels attacked.

Ever since the great Instagram fiasco of last week, Eliott has been liking every single one of Lucas’ new posts. Every. Single. One.

So Lucas, confused and alarmed, could only retaliate by liking all of Eliott’s posts as well.

Their strange little game doesn’t go unnoticed, of course. The universe simply never spares Lucas from such situations. The boys tease him about it endlessly while Emma and Manon circle around the topic like the most unsubtle vultures in existence. Lucas brushes them off with responses so bullshit they drop the subject out of sheer exasperation.

Imane eventually asks as well, probably sick of seeing both sides suddenly liking each other’s posts out of nowhere.

“I didn’t know you and Eliott were close,” she says once they’re both settled at the back of the library and for once Lucas would actually prefer it if she focuses solely on their studying.

“Uh, no? Not really,” he fumbles, ever so eloquent.

“That’s a whole lot of likes for a not really.”

“I don’t— I mean— uh…” How does one go about explaining that they’ve literally only interacted for a whole ass week. “His posts are nice.”

“You mean his face is nice.” Imane quirks an eyebrow at him and Lucas rolls his eyes. He doesn’t bother to defend himself, pointedly flipping open his textbook so they can start their work.

But when he turns back to his laptop, Eliott’s newest post is still up on his screen. He’d clicked it open while waiting for Imane earlier, huffing out a fond sigh at the photo. Talk to me. How dare he put some obscure, nonsense caption and still look cool doing it? God, he’s whipped for a boy he’s never even properly met and he’s very much aware of how bad this could turn out for him. He likes the post absently, so used to doing it for the past week that it’s more a reflex by now, closing out of the tab before Imane catches sight of his screen.

He forgets about it for the rest of the day— or forget isn’t exactly the right word. More like he stops himself from checking in every other hour and it gets easier to tamper down the temptation once he’s helping Manon and Daphne set up for their sorority fundraiser. He’s turned off the notifications on his phone after every alert tone from Instagram has sent him panicking for no reason other than he’s a complete moron when it comes to Eliott.

The most infuriating thing about the Eliott situation is that Lucas knows they go to the same university. It’s in the description box for Polaris. That had been Eliott’s first year project for film studies. Lucas has seen a glimpse of him multiple times, always surrounded by a group of rowdy boys who look way too intimidating to approach. Not that Lucas would know what to say if he ever grows the balls to go up to him anyway.

“Can you move the pink ones to the far right, please? The colours have to balance.”

Lucas moves the cupcakes, allowing Daphne to maintain the illusion that colour arrangement would actually affect the end result. He checks the time on his phone, making sure he has enough spare time to make it to his part time job later. He has no class on Wednesdays and that’s usually when he covers most of his hours but Basile’s moving to a new place tomorrow and that guy needs all the help he can get.

There’s a small commotion across from them and they all look up to see a large group of girls cheering and clapping about something.

“Why are they set up there?” Daphne exclaims, sounding offended. Lucas turns to Manon for an explanation but she just shakes her head with a tiny smile.

“They came early too, it’s a good spot. It’s not like we can stop them.” Manon shrugs, placing the last plate of cakes on the table. Their entire area is covered with baked goods. He has to watch his steps so as to not stomp all over some backup muffins. Lucas just hopes the sales make enough of a dent so Daphne doesn’t end the day upset with herself, having spent an insane amount of time preparing for this event.

Lucas looks around their booth and then back up to where the other girls have set up what looks to be an imitation carnival game type of thing. He recognizes them as one of the more popular sororities on campus and immediately understands where Daphne’s stress is coming from.

Still, he thinks the girls’ cakes are pretty banging, not to mention they’ve gone above and beyond with the decor. They deserve the same amount of attention.

He gets distracted by another round of loud whoops, and looks over to see six boys crowding around the booth across, with one of them holding a plastic archery set and laughing with his friends when he misses the target. One lanky boy who has practically trademarked that black hoodie and tan jacket combination in Lucas’ eyes.

“Shit,” he mumbles, sliding behind Daphne’s giant signage so that he’s fully hidden from view. He doesn’t know if Eliott would recognize him just from his photos on Instagram alone but he doesn’t want to risk it. Lucas is too sleep deprived to deal with meeting him in person right now.

Alexia arrives shortly after and the girls get distracted enough with finishing up the finer details that Lucas is fortunately left to his own device.

But now that he’s just standing there staring at the trees, nothing stops him from fishing his phone out of his pockets to check on the holy app. He squints down at it, pausing when he sees that he’s got a new message.

srodulv So you’re finally gonna talk to me?

Lucas’ breath hitches. Eliott has no business sliding into his inbox like this. He fiddles with his phone for five agonizing minutes, not knowing how to respond. He doesn’t want to take too long, though, because what if Eliott thinks that Lucas is ignoring him?

lucallemant Hm?

It’s the best he can come up with. He clutches his phone to his chest, peeking around the signage to see if Eliott looks at the message. He sees Eliott reaching for the phone in his back pocket, shuffling a little away from the ruckus at the other booth. Lucas can hear the pounding of his own heart getting louder and his hands start to sweat a little— which, what the fuck he didn’t even really say anything, he needs to calm down.

srodulv Oh good you responded I was starting to think you’d leave me on read

Lucas twists back into hiding, unable to stop the big dumb smile on his face.

lucallemant Maybe I should’ve

srodulv What, why?

lucallemant I don’t even know you

srodulv I’m Eliott :)

lucallemant Wow ur so funny

srodulv I know Comedy is my passion

Lucas snorts a little too loudly, which makes the girls look over at him in question. He shakes his head, pointing at a student wandering close by so they can sell their food and stop bringing attention to him.

lucallemant Haha

He gets an idea then, hesitating only a little before deciding, fuck it. It's a big campus and Lucas has practice with avoiding people if anything goes wrong.

lucallemant Now go back to your game The point is to hit the target you know

He crouches down and turns a little, watching Eliott's head snap up, bright blue eyes surveying the crowd closely.

srodulv Okay, stalker Where are you?

Lucas waits for Eliott to turn around, searching for Lucas in the wrong direction, before he grabs his bag and kisses the girls on the cheek goodbye.

"You're leaving us already?" Alexia asks, wrapping up a set of cookies her girlfriend wants reserved.

"Yeah, picked up a shift this evening. See you later!" He jogs out of the crowded area, taking advantage of the traffic to cover him from Eliott's view.

lucallemant My friends are selling cakes and stuff across from you Lot 3 You should check it out

srodulv Will I see you?

He hops on the bus, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning like a lunatic.

lucallemant Go and find out

srodulv Hmmm The cakes are good But I don't see you

lucallemant Maybe if everything sells out you'll see me

srodulv Okay

He stares at the response, unsure of what to say next so he lets the conversation go.

And then proceeds to spend his entire shift agonizing over what that okay means. Okay as in that's ridiculous, pal, it's not gonna happen? Okay as in I have nothing else to say so let's end the chat here? What kind of okay does Eliott use in everyday language? Is it positive? Negative? Neutral?

Lucas spills boiling hot water on his finger and gets sent to the back of the kitchen to get his shit together.

It isn't until he’s headed home that Lucas finds out exactly what Eliott means by it.

His laughter comes out breathy, as if punched right out of his lungs. He’s not sure whether he’s laughing at how glaringly out of place the photo is in comparison to Eliott’s usual posts or if it’s the tingle of pleased disbelief at the thought of Eliott wanting to meet him so bad he takes Lucas’ dumb joke seriously. There’s just no way Eliott’s actually doing this for him. No way.

But then he notices that Eliott had tagged him on one of Daphne’s posts. Curiously, Lucas clicks on it, small chuckles turning into full blown laughter when he sees what it is.

Lucas has to physically stop moving, standing right before his own apartment door as he gapes down at the screen.

No. Fucking. Way.

srodulv Thursday, B building at the bridge, 13h

lucallemant Holy fuck

srodulv So I’ll see you?

And what’s he supposed to do? Say no?

lucallemant Yes

#skam france #elu #elu insta au #fictag #applaud me for finding aesthetic banana breads for elliott's extra self

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lykaonimagines · 7 years ago

Text

Positive (Part 7) - Loki x Reader

Sorry for the longer wait on this one guys, super long week with things going wrong >.> Finally was able to just sit down and write it. I also did a few edits for this part that I thought would be fun, and will be at the bottom of the story!

Hope you all enjoy, and let me know if you want to be tagged :)

Paring: Loki x Reader

Part #: 7

Word Count: 2,022

Description: A mutant member of the Avengers finds out she’s pregnant with her boyfriend Loki’s baby, are they ready for this?

Warnings: Pregnancy, jealousy

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Masterlist

(Gif doesn’t belong to me)

As Loki finds himself on the New York streets again, his steps feel lighter than he can remember in a long time. Finding the bench he previously occupied a few months prior when he felt the weight of the universe on his shoulders, he takes a moment to sit and take it all in.

His love, the most spectacular woman in the nine realms, he has no doubt, is his. She’s alive, and well, and everything he never knew he needed. “If only mother had been able to meet you,” he says softly as he scrolls through their walls of texts. Ever the affectionate one, she reminded him regularly exactly what he meant to her, something he appreciated more than he could ever begin to explain.

Then their daughter. His daughter. He somehow had something to do with that little wiggling being they saw on the screen. How he’d been given the chance after all he’s done to bring a child into existence, he didn’t know. How two people with some of the worst experiences involving parenting, were now being given this innocent being to care for and do right in a way they weren’t.

As much as he didn’t like to admit it, the Avengers themselves were a part of this new life he was falling in love with. Through Y/N and their coming daughter, he’d been spending more time with the other Avengers, and coming to actually enjoy the presence of his new found family. They’d accepted him in after everything he’d done, even if there were still plenty of comments made. They were still all a bit… much for him at times. But the way they care for Y/N and their child, is worth any of that.

Then Thor. The ever present shadow he felt he was always in. Thor’s brother. Always was just Thor’s brother. Finding out he wasn’t even the shadow role he’d been stuck in had hurt him more than he could ever have expected. Though he still loved Thor as a brother, and the last year in the tower had been good for them. He finally felt he could stand beside Thor as a brother, and not just a shadow.

Which led to the last thing. Acceptance. Discovering himself. Knowing himself and who he is. All of them together had combined to contribute to that. But he awards that mainly to his daughter. Trying to step up and actively be a the man she deserves as a father, that she can be proud of, and that she can depend on.

There was just one last problem. Loki smirks to himself as he scrolls through his phone photos of Y/N and he. Countless selfies she’d taken of them fill up his gallery, with random photos of himself with captions she’d left. “Just one last piece.”

Not quite sure where to begin, he finds himself drifting toward the familiar book store once again. Spotting the worker from his previous visit, he quickly walks over, “Could you direct me to the books on crafting jewelry?”

(From Loki’s phone)

Collapsing down into the office chair of his newly rented hotel room, Loki sorts through the things he’s bought, books on the history of ring designs, crafting jewelry, midgardian customs, several sketch pads, and some pencils. “This is going to be nearly impossible to hide,” he groans to himself looking around the room.

He sighs and finally sets himself to work flipping through the books, and sketching out bits and pieces he likes as time goes by.

Y/N comes out of their shared room, Loki’s sweatshirt over her and their bed sheets cocooned around her body. Everything ached and she was so damn cold.

Stephen had let her return to the dormitory floors under the promise she’d go straight to bed. Which she did. For a little while.

Walking out to the living room she finds Bucky alone watching movie on the couch.

“Buck,” she whines pulling the covers around herself tighter.

He jumps, having been so entranced in the show and his eyes darting to her, “Y/N! You’re supposed to be in bed! You can’t be up walking around with fresh stitches.”

“Have you seen Loki?” She asks looking out the window, the sky starting to darken. “He left at like 10:30 this morning and he’s still not come back to the room.”

“Haven’t seen him,” Bucky replies finally pausing his movie. “I don’t think he came back yet.”

She frowns and then sighs loudly looking at her friend with pleading eyes, “Bucky, I’m sooooo cold.”

“Then get back in bed,” he responds with a grin.

“It’s not helping,” she whines back at him, trying to make herself look as sad as possible. “This girl is half ice giant Buck, she’s freezing me from the inside out.”

His eyes widen in realization as he pats the seat next to him, “Didn’t think of that Y/N, here come watch the movie with me.”

She quickly crawls onto the couch, and snuggles into her friend’s warmth with a content sigh, “So warm.”

He rolls his eyes and puts an arm around her before starting the movie back up as they sit in comfortable silence.

“Is this really old Zorro?” She mumbles, her mind starting to get fuzzy with sleep.

“Yeah,” he responds rubbing her shoulder. “One of my favorites from back before I enlisted.”

“Hm,” she nods. “So what did you do for fun in the 1940s then beyond Zorro, Grandpa?”

He smirks down, “Oh the usual. Camping, some woodworking occasionally, and taking out the dames to the local dances.”

“Scandalous man you are Bucky,” she chuckles. “And how was Steve with these dames?”

Bucky throws his head back with a laugh, “Oh just the complete and utter ladies man he is to this day Y/N. You know our Steve, the regular heart breaker.”

“Those poor girls, never knew what they were in for,” she clicks her tongue. “Steve the Casanova he is.”

“So how are you feeling?” He asks suddenly.

“A lot warmer,” she replies happily. “You exude manly heat.”

“You exude manly heat.” Loki hears as he enters the kitchen behind the living room. His chest tightening as he hears Y/N’s familiar laugh tangled with one of the male Avenger coming from the next room.

“I aim to please miss.”

He slams the bag of food in his hands on the counter, the bang causing the pair to go silent.

“Bruce don’t Hulk out in the kitchen!” Y/N yells over, followed by more laughter.

Steeling his face, Loki presses on into the living room where he finds Y/N curled up into Bucky, his arm around her. “Wrong Avenger,” he responds with a tense smile. “So what exactly is going on here?”

“Loki!” Y/N yells, her eyes lighting up. “The long lost prince has finally returned.”

Bucky makes a gagging noise as he lifts his arm from around her shoulders, acknowledging the slightly menacing gaze he’s getting from Loki.

“As I said I would,” he responds, his eyes still flickering between her and the other man. “What have you two been up to? And why aren’t you in bed?”

“I was so damn cold,” Y/N states, “That frost giant DNA is freezing me from the inside I swear. I came out here looking for you, but someone has been gone all day. So I’m using Bucky for his warmth and watching his old man movie.”

His eyes widen immediately, “How cold? Is it burning? Are you in pain?”

“No no no,” she says holding a hand up to stop him, “Just feel’s like I’m unprepared for the cold weather I’ve walked out into. Nothing serious.”

Loki nods and continues to look at her, his chest still tight from her words. “I’m sorry I can’t be the one to help with that,” he says stiffly.

“Your sweatshirt helps,” she grins lifting the sheets from around her body.

He forces a small smile, “I’m guessing you won’t be wanting that ice cream then. Luckily I brought some warm food as well if you haven’t eaten. Which you haven’t I’m assuming?”

Her face turns slightly red, “Yeah… I haven’t thought about it.”

He sighs and holds his hands out to help lift her from the couch, “You get in bed, I will bring the food.”

“Sounds good prince charming,” she says with a wink, and stretches up to kiss his cheek.

After Y/N has made it back to their room, Loki’s gaze immediately goes back to Bucky.

“I was comforting my cold pregnant friend, prince charming,” he says turning his movie back on. “Don’t get bent out of shape.”

Loki scowls at him, “I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t curl up romantically with my girlfriend on the couch.”

Bucky smirks back at him rolling his eyes, “Romantically? Someone worried?”

“No!” Loki yells back crossing his arms. “I’d just appreciate you keeping your hands off my girlfriend Buchanan before I have to do something about it.”

Bucky leans back against the couch unfazed, “If you couldn’t tell that was merely friendly comfort and you are that unconfident in your relationship, you have worse things to worry about.”

“I just almost fucking lost her for Odin’s sake,” Loki snaps. “Of course I am fucking worried mortal. I trust her. But I just almost lost her. I… I don’t need to explain this to you.”

The other man’s expression softens as he pulls himself up from the couch, and walking over to him putting a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “You should be more open like that, it makes you a lot more likable. But understand this, she’s a good friend and I was just comforting her. Even if I was interested, she’s very obviously in love. Don’t strain that with jealousy.” He turns the tv off before leaving to go back to his own room, leaving Loki standing in the middle of the room processing everything.

Finally he moves from his spot to take care of the ice cream and grab the dinner he’d brought them back to their bedroom. Setting the food out on the table in their room, he feels her arms snake around his waist.

“So…” she says softly laying a cheek against his back.

“You probably shouldn’t do that,” he responds with a sigh, trying to shrug out of her embrace. “You’re going to make yourself colder.”

However, she clings onto him tighter, “Worth it.”

The tightening in chest starts to relax at her words, “Really now?”

“I missed you,” she responds, kissing his back. “I’ve been thinking about our little girl.”

“Me too,” he says as he twists in her grip so he’s facing her. “I’m going to have two exquisite girls in my life, I’m a very lucky undeserving man.”

She smiles up at him, “No, you’re a strong, intelligent, sensitive, passionate, and loving man that’s gone through a lot to be the man I wake up next to every morning.”

His eyes start to prickle at her words, all tension leaving his body as he stares into her eyes, “Y/N…”

“So I might not be able to have that ice cream right now,” she states smirking up at him. “But I believe I have one other request owed to me. And I plan on collecting it.”

“Oh Is that right?” He asks, his lips coming near her own, able to feel his cool breath on her face. “Remind me, what is that?”

“I believe, your highness, that you owe me a kiss,” she whispers back.

“I couldn’t refuse you now could I?” He asks before pressing their lips together. The sweet simple kiss growing more passionate as his tongue slips into her mouth. She groans into his mouth, pulling him flush with her own body, her knees starting to go a little weak when he breaks the kiss.

She gasps for air as she stares up at the god in her arms. “Satisfactory darling?”

“Very much so. But I have a question,” she replies.

“Hm?” He responds stroking her back.

“Where have you been all day?”

Uh oh.

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

Y/N’s snaps of her life with Loki & the team

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Part 6 Part 8 Masterlist

Tag List: Sorry if some didn’t tag properly, some were giving me issues :$ And hopefully I didn’t forget anyone. Thank you all of you for following this ❤️

@ihavenofilter @zombiefied-gay-ghost @talinalani @chloe-skywalker @shanetoo @shitty-imagines-95 @roryomxlley @afangirlamongotherthings @servamp-addict @moonfaery @thefallenbibliophilequote @arielletheavenger @lucacangettathisass @draconicyeet @i-love-loki-its-unhealthy @tokoyamisstuff @whennoonethinksyoucanyoumust @ximi27 @throughartistseyes @islaylivesinshire @starfox-92 @ink-and-starlight @markusstraya @peacefulfall @maximofos @hiddlestoner3059 @theartsypoetess @heart-shaped-hell @twiling-lady @beaisahuntress @my–heroine @starlight-in-the-universe @imnomundanenoramuggle @h3artshaped-box @sarahivi @the1weliveinnow

#loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x oc #loki imagine #positive #marvel

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sandwichbully · 6 years ago

Text

Sammy’s Avenue Eatery, 23 November 2018

“When people are hungry, you feed ‘em.”

OK, so about three years ago, I was working at UCare - “UCare, health care that starts with denying you your oxygen!” - and it was a slow afternoon one afternoon. Most afternoons were slow and the mail room was overstaffed for what we needed, so I logged a lot of time on Facebook and I saw this joint, Sammy’s Avenue Eatery, and I thought their sandwiches looked pretty good, so I made it a point to go there. ... aaannnddd I never did. I was broke as shit at the time, working fourteen hours a day six days a week between two jobs (and still being broke all the time) and feeling like shit because I was a terrible letdown to my then-girlfriend (the one from this episode) because I was always tired and just wanted a goddamned beer and two cigarettes. Eventually things improved but not by much and yadda yadda yadda, a whole bunch of shit happens, and going up to Sammy’s Avenue Eatery has been low priority. But I never forgot it. It kind of even nagged at me. And today, with it being almost fifty degrees for what is surely the last time this year if it isn’t the next to last time this year, I made it a point to go to what is likely going to be the final Sandwich Bully episode for 2018 - unless y’all want to come pick me up in your petite bourgeoisie automobile with “the heat” on in December and January. So I rolled up on the corner of Emerson and Broadway and walked in and looked over the menu and waited for the nice lady to finish making a chai latte for this other lady and I asked her which she preferred, the Hot Roasted Chicken or the Turkey Bacon Club. She said honestly that she preferred the chicken but they were out of that so turkey and bacon (I had to specify because I’ve had exactly one experience with turkey bacon and that shit is fucking gross and it’s so gross that I’m compelled to put up a picture of my first ex with a caption mocking her voice in which she chides me for having high blood pressure but that is seriously some SD&A shit and - Hm? Oh, Sound Design and Assembly. That was my old record review blog but I didn’t review records so much as I bitched about pop culture and waxed poetic on having picked up nookie the night before.)

Wait. Where are we?

OK, let’s start that over. She said honestly that she preferred the chicken but they were out of that so turkey and bacon (I had to specify because I’ve had exactly one experience with turkey bacon and that shit is fucking gross) it was and I grabbed a cranberry ginger ale and I found myself engaged in a conversation with her. Lot of personal stuff that isn’t my business to put up here but I guess maybe I can talk about the political side of it and that part was refreshing because nobody was bringing out words with “-ism”s on the end, we were just on the same wavelength, talking about how Minneapolis government is mishandling or outright ignoring a bunch of problems and how there are easy - very easy solutions to them. The homeless encampment whom the city couldn’t decide to house in either a warehouse or a vacant fucking lot? Well, hell, how many boarded up houses are there in north Minneapolis? I figured put the homeless at least in the warehouse out of the elements. The woman I was talking to told me they had plenty of empty houses in this neighborhood. A solution I never thought of. And even thinking about it now, I realize that there’s a lot of red tape and the banks own those empty houses but why does the bank own an empty house? Why is it held by a private entity and not by the state? What are the escheat and adverse possession laws in Minnesota? (And that’s over thinking it but that’s because capitalism doesn’t provide for simple solutions without the transfer of liquid assets.)

And enough of that. Anyway, at one point, this dude comes in and says he doesn’t have time to stop in and eat at the moment but he was just wondering what the soup of the day was for when he came back later and the woman said it was alright if he didn’t have time to eat, she’d fix him a “little” to-go cup (it was more like an eight ounce cup and I don’t know how metric people measure soup; by volume - 237mL - or by mass - 227g) and she handed it to him and told him to have a good day and he said thank you and he walked out the door and she stared out the window and she said, “When people are hungry, you feed ‘em.” No conditions, no clauses, just simple straight to the point action and solution. And she told me about how she wanted to start a homeless shelter, not like the ones downtown where you have to "tell ‘em everything about your life just to get in the door”, she wanted to start one where if you were tired, you could sleep, and if you got caught fucking up, you got kicked out. Simple as that. And my brain goes to how dangerous that would be because what about all the rapists and murderers and then my privilege checks itself and I got to remember that homeless folks aren’t homeless because they’re murderers and they do just want a warm place to sleep and a little something to eat. She told me she wanted to open a soup kitchen, too, and told me that one place downtown was in such a great location because it was centralized and somebody could even walk for forty blocks to get there, and they would, too, because, as she put it, “hunger travels”. I know that. I remember the time, it was like ten years ago or so, that I was with Georgie and we were starving and I walked two miles in a snowstorm to the food shelf and I lied on the paperwork and told them our twenty eight year old roommate was our four year old son because I thought I could get us more food that way (and, hey, there were three people in the house). I remember being dismayed at what we got and dutifully trundled it back home. I remember all that. Maybe it was meant to be that I didn’t get to Sammy’s until today to have this conversation. Maybe as a (timely) reminder to be thankful for what I do have, maybe as a reaffirmation of my beliefs, maybe to just talk to somebody over lunch, which I never get to do because I live alone and work alone.

ANYWAY! How was the sandwich!? How was the fucking sandwich, Charlie!? Remember how this blog is called Sandwich Bully? And it’s about sandwiches? And how it’s not a place for you to peddle your bleeding heart commie* beliefs or pontificate on how we need to be good and charitable toward our brothers and sisters!? HOW THIS PLACE IS MEANT FOR SANDWICHES!?!?!? TALK ABOUT THE FUCKING SANDWICH, CHARLIE!!! It was good. As I was grabbing a pop, the woman (I know her name I just don’t know how she spells it) told me that if I wanted to bundle the sandwich and drink into a combo, that she had chips and I told her nah, I had to watch my salt and she said she knew that was right. I watched her slice my tomato right out of a whole fresh tomato which I’ve seen maybe only Trieste do - slice fresh to order. And she asked if I liked onions and I said I did and she asked if I liked pickles and I said I did and then she held the pickle slices over the container and gave them a little wiggle and told me, “Getting the salt off them for you,” which was cool. Aint ever had anybody do that for me before. And then we set to talking while I ate at the counter and you read about all that. Well, let’s start with the size issue. I ordered a half sandwich (around seven dollars) and it was big enough that I feared what I might have gotten if I had gotten a whole one (around eleven dollars). Trust me, I beg of you, please trust me, I am on my knees begging you to trust me: Order the half sandwich. That is the reasonable human serving size. The tomato was crisp (natch) and the pickles and onions added necessary sour and bite. The cheese, I don’t know what it was but it was white and it was creamy and, tag-teamed with the bacon, it kind of overpowered the turkey but the bacon-cheese combo overpowers most things. The mayo on the sandwich was applied to the bread pre-grilling which, a few years ago, I would have said “ew” to but recently I had the revelation that mayo is just eggs and oil (no, not that part) which are both things that are perfectly alright to be applied to direct heat (that part) and I’ve been waiting to try frying my grilled cheese with mayo on the outside but I never buy bread and I never buy mayonnaise - Why buy mayo when you can make aioli? - so I finally got to try this technique at Sammy’s and I have to admit I didn’t notice anything inherently distinguishable about it but, again, bacon-cheese combo. Overpowers everything but... OK, probably the last time we get to do this this year unless somebody wants to drive me somewhere during December and January so we have to make this one good. Let’s see, let’s see, let’s see... [clears throat] But the real blackout drunk correspondent of Armenia Decides, 2018... No no no. [clears throat again] But the real evil twin unplugging the good twin’s life support so she can assume her identity and run off with her husband... No. Come on, man, you got this. You have literally nothing else. OK, I think I got it. But the real guest star in the dangers-of-huffing-gas-as-a-pregnant-teen episode of this highly rated Saturday morning teen show never to be seen again as, metafictionally, her character had been shipped off to an island of misfit one-off characters, each themselves never to be seen again, turned cannibal after the last hunt didn’t yield the boar’s head required to appease the god behind the sun, he who in-turn took his great veil from the white ball in the sky and scorched their crops in anger and now, teen pot dealer and teen wheelchair basketball player and teen army brat and teen with an eating disorder and all the rest, none of whom were ever seen again, are forced to turn on each other for survival, their malevolence a dance for the god behind the sun’s enjoyment, for when enough blood is spilled he veils his white ball and grants them rest from the heat, but now, a new arrival - The Pregnant Teen Gas Huffer... is the house sauce, which I suspect is a honey dijon vinaigrette. It was sweet, a little complex but not so complex that I couldn’t guess what it was while I was eating it. It stood out and balanced the savory fattiness of the bacon-cheese combo. The lettuce? We don’t have to do the lettuce thing, do we?

I mean, it’s probably the last time this year.

Overall, not a bad bike ride, it was a pretty decent sandwich - it was good but I’m not falling over stupid for it. I mean, hey, it filled me up and I ordered the half sandwich. If there was a quarter sandwich option, I’d go for that. It tasted good, too. She asked me how it was and I told her it was wonderful and she said she was glad I liked it and I told her I was glad she made it. I guess that there was a sense of openness, of community to the place, which we’ve been over before: I prefer to go to places that feel worn in and homey. Places like Band Box and Ideal where the proprietors and the patrons are literally neighbors, where people have been going for years, people who are eating there now worked there in high school because their parents knew the manager. Sammy’s has that vibe. It’s kind of like Nye’s. I liked Nye’s (yes, past tense) when you could walk in and say hi to Phil, sit down, and have an ice cold Żywiec and there was a college football game on you could ignore and it was red Corinthian leather booths and tacky martini murals on the walls and mirrors behind the bar to make the liquor selection look more impressive (or whatever the mirrors are back there for) and it was locals in there. Last time I was in Nye’s, there was no Phil, the new guy didn’t know what Żywiec was, the interior designer clearly got all their ideas from IKEA (still love you, IKEA, but you are not meant for a bar), and the only patronage in there were literally tourists asking about the history of the Mississippi River. I can’t fuck with that scene because it doesn’t feel like it’s a part of the community that supported it through the years. Ownership changed and nobody gave a fuck about preserving the community aspect of the place, it’s clearly a cash grab more cynical and distasteful than when they made Game of Death with B-roll of Bruce Lee and two actors who looked nothing like him. Sammy’s, on the other hand, feels like it’s part of its community. Established in Near North, playing a role in Near North, employing Near North, feeding Near North. GO. GIVE. THEM. YOUR. MONEY.

* I was once briefly involved with a Randian Libertarian who called me literally a “bleeding heart commie” because I told her Atlas Shrugged was “right-wing oriented”. Ah, to be young again.

#2018 #near north #club sandwich #turkey bacon club #escheat and adverse possession #community #metric soup

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justabelfastgirl · 6 years ago

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This is a repost from Northern Irish Girl Online which is no longer active.

Hello, you beautiful, sexy, people,

Thanks again to the AMAZING ROSS, I felt that should be in capitals because it’s like a superhero name. He tagged me in this and I loved his responses so I’m excited to get started with this one.

1. I can text in Swedish/Danish (kind of)

Have you ever seen The Bridge? It’s a Swedish/Danish show based on two detectives. It’s probably one of the hubby and I’s favourite shows to watch together next to Parks & Rec, Brooklyn 99 (NINE-NINE! Fans of the show will get this and I better see it in the comments!) and The Vikings (Ragnar can father my children whenever he wants, thanks).

We got so engrossed in it that we started texting each other in Swedish and Danish one day, lol. We know a few words just from watching the show so much and the rest was down to Google Translate. It’s on the bucket list to visit both Sweden and Denmark one day and the infamous bridge the show is named after. I can’t recommend it enough.

I don’t mind watching a programme with subtitles as you honestly get so engrossed in what is going on that you don’t even realise they aren’t speaking the same as your native tongue.

Author Top Tip: It’s also a brilliant way to learn a new language.

2. Farts

My farts, or as we say in Northern Ireland if we want to be polite, poofs, are so loud that they can wake people from their sleep. My biological mother used to tell me that if I was sitting on the floor (which I tended to do a lot, I found a hard floor more comfortable than a chair, I still do… I don’t know why), and I farted that she could feel it vibrate in her feet.

I suffer from Irritable Bowel Syndrome and was first diagnosed at 17 whilst studying for my A-Levels. I’ve lived with it for a very long time so I know what can upset my stomach and what might set me off. I have to be so careful with my stress levels as that’s my biggest trigger. I do plan to do a post on it as I’ve noticed the pain has increased as the years have gone on, so I’m currently researching more on the subject before I post my own blog post on it.

3. I’m weirdly obsessed with certain cultures and historical eras.

I’m weirdly obsessed with Native American culture, I have been for as long as I can remember. I think it first started when I was a kid and saw Pochantos which, fun fact, is my favourite Disney film. For those unsure of what I mean by Native American culture or haven’t seen Pochantos (um… why are you reading this? Go watch it!) I mean Indians. Not people from India, see below picture.

I mean… he’s not wrong.

Historical Eras I’m obsessed with are Ancient Egypt, especially the Gods & Goddesses. Which is strange because I have little to no interest other “modern-day” Gods. However, I would definitely follow the Ancient Egypt Gods until the end of the earth. Weird, right? My favourite was, of course, Anubis, not because he was the God of the Afterlife, but because duh, he was a Jackal’s head.

Photo Credit: Sunima

The Tudors

Again, this is strange (you’ll see why on my next one), but Henry VIII era had me totally absorbed in History class and I remember asking my Nanny that I wanted books on The Tudors for Easter that year instead of an egg (yeah, I was that geek). I really don’t know why as we all know that Henry was a wee wanker when it came to women. He was just greedy all around with food, money and women.

Big Henry VIII – The Original Manwhore Fuckboy

4. I don’t like The Queen and hate the hype around The Royals

Before you start, my mum (my step-mum) pretty much verbally smacked me for saying this. My mum loves The Queen, as does my dad. My granda… he was on the fence from my chats with him. I honestly feel the older I get, the more I remember my talks with my hero, the more I realise he has basically formed my opinion’s on a lot of things. The only time I’ve watched anything Royal related was Harry & Meghan’s wedding because Harry is an actual ledge (and I have a bit of a thing for him, I’m not gonna lie) and I was already a fan of Meghan from her role in Suits. Also, has anyone seen the bad lip reading at Harry & Meghan’s wedding?

If not, I swear on my life it’s funnier than the Star Wars ones. If you haven’t seen those or the NFL ones either… I, I just dunno what to say to you. Who even are you? I’m such a good egg (only because I mentioned it I had to go watch it again or I’d make you go find it yourselves) that I have provided the video for you below. Prince Wills isn’t so bad, especially after I watched this. For the record, I personally think Hagrid (Rubeus Hagrid for the diehard #HP fans) was the right answer. I mean, no one is as cool as Hagrid.

youtube

PW: “I hope you understand we’re puppets”

PH: “You said we had free will.”

PW: “No, I didn’t.”

Wills telling Harry the real truth. May 2018

Why do I not like Big Lizzy? Several reasons, the main one being CHARLES, idol-worshipping of someone who from where I sit hasn’t really done much and that’s with research, I wish we could vote. I’d totally vote for Harry to take the crown at least the charities he, Wills and their wives get involved in are ones that will really make a difference. People may say she isn’t control of a lot of things as she has left it to the governments in the United Kingdom Let me ask you this then, who does the Wicked Witch of Downing Street, I mean… Teresa May, report to? Uh-huh.

Big Lizzy is also the boss of the HM Forces, yet I don’t think she even cares how much those lads and ladies are actually paid. I ranted about this on Twitter recently when Andrew Trimble, Ulster Rugby player (I think?), said he wasn’t paid enough to “go to battle” every day. Andrew Trimble earns hundreds of thousands of pounds from playing rugby, sponsorships, appearances and so on. When I educated him on how much a Marine is paid before he passes out he shut up immediately and stopped responding to me. I looked for the Tweet for ages and then got fed up, it’s on my Twitter somewhere, good luck finding it!

Now, he’s not the only one. You look at footballers, celebrities and so on, they earn millions. Soldier’s will never make that amount of money, but they fight for our freedom. Anyone else see something wrong with this?

I grew up with military family members, not only that, but I lived on the Shore Road which was smack bang in the middle of North Belfast. Every single day, I would go outside and wait for the PSNI and RIR (Royal Irish Regiment), British Army, possibly the Royal Marine Commandos (RM aka, LADSSS) to drive past my house so I could wave at them and tell them that they were amazing. I was 11 when The Good Friday Agreement came into force, I was a child that grew up in the Troubles. My after school TV had a few kids shows, and a lot of Northern Irish news whilst my dad lived with me. The older I got the less kid/teenage TV the more I watched the news.

5. I’m still on the hunt for three books I read as a teenager over 20 years ago

Photo Credit: Jaredd Craig

You will never know how painful that sentence was to write, 20 years ago!! I still think I’m fucking 20 then I get slapped in the face with the fish of reality and it hurts me to my soul. Anyways, I read three books that to this day I remember like it was yesterday. The thing about it is they weren’t life-changing books at all, all of them were fiction. I’ve tried searching for them by the titles I remember them by, but to no avail. I asked my library, but they changed their system 10 years ago so there is nothing from prior to that, anymore. I have even gone on websites and described the books in detail, but nothing and it’s my biggest pet hate, ever.

My hubby said it just shows when I’m determined to do something I never give up on it. He should know, I was determined to do him 14 years ago, 14 years on and almost 9 years of marriage and it’s still happening, lol!

6. I’m quite smart and have a freakish memory

And Omigod totally modest! Not tooting my own trumpet, but you don’t study Psychology if you haven’t got some brains.

I can’t remember what I did yesterday, but I could probably tell you the worst serial killers ever known, the horror films that have certain aspects of them that are inspired from real historical events (and they aren’t the ones you think), be able to figure out what films Will Ferrell quotes come from (thanks mostly to my husband who is a big fan of Will Ferrell, as am I), what a book I read 20 years ago was about and what I thought of it, song lyrics, full songs, history and shit.

I could also probably tell you something that happened in my childhood in great detail, but if you asked me what I did in work last week, I’d just shrug and be like…. “talking to people and shit”.

7. I’m a massive tomboy and I once got my finger trapped in a grating (drain cover) looking for a tennis ball whilst plotting to murder IT with a tennis racket.

“Eddie discovered one of his childhood’s great truths. Grownups are the real monsters, he thought.” – Stephen King, IT.

Okay, let me explain. I, as I mentioned in a previous post, grew up around lads. I was the eldest granddaughter on my dad’s side and second eldest on my mum’s side. This meant the people I looked up to were all lads, I used to fight with my other female cousin all the time. Which is funny because when we got older we were as close as sisters. It was because I was such a “lad”. I love football, wrestling, playing rugby, kickboxing, getting dirty, gaming and other stereotypical “laddy” things.

I’ve more male friends than I do female, but my three best friends are all female. I’m on good terms with every single one of my exes, bar one. Whilst in the majority of the relationships, I broke it off, I did it in a way that wasn’t dickish and tried to cause the least amount of pain to anyone and everyone involved.

My two best friends, Barrie and Bryan (they’re brothers and we’re still in touch today), we were going through our wanting to be a tennis player phase. This was in between our Power Rangers, Ninja Turtles and Marvel Superhero’s phase. Barrie and I were slamming some serious ball against the wall in my back garden with our tennis rackets.

I can’t remember which one of us it was, but I’m going to blame Barrie because he’s not going to read this to defend himself, but the ball ended up disappearing down the drain. Being the intelligent childer we were, we followed what we thought was the right pipe system, out through the cul-de-sac out of my back to the drain just across the road from Barrie’s house.

We thought this would be the drain it would appear in. I had seen IT by this point, Barrie had not. I wouldn’t call Barrie a pussy, because he actually fights for a living now and would no doubt kick my ass for it, but let’s just say he was a sensitive wee sausage when we were young.

I was determined to find IT and beat him to death with my tennis racket so my thought process, being the kid I was, was that if we lifted the lid he’d either hear it and come to us or already be there. I was determined to protect Barrie at all costs, despite him being a few months older, he and Bryan were like brothers to me and everyone who knows me knows, I’d put anyone who hurts my family in the ground.

Barrie was in charge of holding the grating lid open and I was in charge of retrieving the ball when it came past (and also unbeknownst to Barrie killing IT). I can’t remember whether it was a car, someone yelling at us to get out of the drain (quite possibly this one) or, Barrie just being a fucking eejit and not paying attention, but he dropped the grating lid on my right fingertips.

I don’t know who cried more me or him. I think him, we ran back to my house, my fingers pissing blood and both of us covered in it looking like we’d just sacrificed ourselves to Satan. For some reason, I remember there being quite a few of my dad’s family in the house that day visiting, but it could be my warped memory of my childhood.

Both sets of parents were there that day, course mother dearest went absolutely nuts yelling at me, I, again, protected Barrie despite him clearly giving himself away by crying (because he felt so guilty he had hurt me and that I was bleeding so much, told you he was a sensitive wee sausage). Saying it was my fault and my idea, the truth did come out in the end. My four fingernails were hanging off, the worst being my middle finger.

I don’t remember an A&E visit, but I remember one of my bigger cousins saying I was hardcore as I was only crying because I’d gotten blood on me and was still deadly fearful of my mother beating me back then. He told me my fingers tips were clearly broken as they’d been crushed in the grating.

My dad ended up having to pull the middle fingernail off as it was just hanging there, at least I think it was my dad, it could have been my ma, I don’t remember I thankfully blocked out the actual experience, the rest of them broke off. To this day, my fingernails and fingers are off to one side. See pics for proof, below.

8. I love to learn, a lot!

I’ve said this previously, but for those new here, I used studying as an escape, same with reading, from what I suffered as a kid. I would get lost in history books, books from the library, for hours on end.

I read abnormally fast, often finishing a standard 330-word book in half a day if I am up early, or a day depending on what I’m doing. I bring a book with me everywhere I go, just in case.

Holiday’s are funny as there is usually at least 6 books and a Kindle in my hand luggage, increasing to 8 to 12 books by the time I get on the plane. My hubby just rolls his eyes, now but knows they’ll get read.

To put my learning into perspective I thought the best thing to do would be to create a table which is split into self-taught and qualified/things I hold certificates in. It’s a bit mental to look at, but 100% my proudest achievement after being mentally healthy following a 2 year battle with my PTSD.

Self Taught Academia Criminal Psychology Psychology and soon to be Forensic Psychology Photography Dental nursing Photo Editing History (Irish & UK) Blogging, Writing English & English Lit Criminology Criminology Human Resources Human Resources Counselling Counselling (including CBT, Life Coaching, Career Coaching) Rearing dogs from pups to adults Autism (including all areas of the spectrum) Norse Methodology Health & Social Care Wiccanism Business Administration History of Music & Music Genres Psychology Parapsychology Makeup Artistry, Beautician & Nail Technician Computer programming (hacking, website creation) Viral Marketing Cooking Art & Design Swedish/Danish (written, only) BASIC French (Oral & Written) Basic Italian – Basic/Intermediate at the moment Sewing, crochet Maltese – Intermediate First Aid (Child, Adult & Pet) Book Publishing (with coaching from my sis Christina) Business Auditing UK, NI and Irish Law Sign Language Level 1 UK, NI and Irish Employment Law UK, NI and Irish Employment Law Child Psychology & Counselling (mentoring from NSPCC) Woodworking, carpentry, building smaller homemade objects Mental Health Conditions & Disorders Accounting Different religions and cultures Sociology

This isn’t me showing off, just as an FYI. This, to me, is a list of things I have used as PTSD survival techniques. I’ve posted twice about what happened to me when I was younger.

I also challenge you all to make a list of things you have taught yourself when I say self-taught, I mean not going to a school, college, university online or off at any time. It doesn’t matter if you were taught it by a family member or something like that, it’s anything you’ve taught yourself to do without the help of professionals.

I would be deadly interested to see everyone else’s lists, and probably want them to teach me stuff I don’t know, lol.

9. I’m obsessed with little Asians and want to adopt all the little Asians, but my husband won’t let me.

I don’t know okay? I really don’t know when it started or how it started. My dad (who is not racist, I promise) always calls me cheeky face or, I swear he isn’t racist, he just isn’t very original with nicknames, I’m sorry if this offends, oval eyes. I’ve a round-shaped “pea” head as my dad and husband like to remind me of on a somewhat weekly basis, they’re wee shites like the Chinese people (known for having rounder faces).

I have oval-shaped eyes (doesn’t everyone you say, actually no, no they don’t) which are angled upwards, like a person of Chinese descent. I have my granddaddy’s eyes as you honestly couldn’t tell whether he was squinting or his eyes were wide open. Mine is slightly more open than his, but when I’m tired you can see why my dad has dubbed me what he has.

When we pass anyone of Phillipene, Chinese, Thai or Japanese descent husband calls them my people because I absolutely love them and I really do have myself convinced that, as well, as being Italian/Maltese/Northern Irish/English I have either Native American (hence my fascination with them) or another Asian descent in my heritage. I’d love to do that 123 and Me test, but I don’t have a spare $50. If you’d like to donate that to me then lemme know, lol. what? You don’t ask you don’t get!

My cousin is married to a beautiful (inside and out) woman named Christina who is from the Philippines and they have two gorgeous wee kids. I keep “jokingly” telling my family I’m gonna kidnap them one day and adopt them,.

There have been times my friends and my other half have literally had to pull me away from the kids as I just think they’re so cute and I just want to talk to their parents and play with them. That’s really weird, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have told people this… 🤷‍

10. I can rap, well.

Don’t believe me? Ask my three best friends and my husband. My husband couldn’t believe it the first time my friend Sarah B and I rapped every single lyric to Tupac’s – Hit Em’ Up. It was our song, but it’s the same for any other TuPac, Dr Dre, Xzibit, Ludacris, N.W.A, Eminem, 50 Cent, D12, and many, many more songs in my rap repertoire.

I’m going to challenge some different peeps this time, some of my lovely followers. So…. I challenge the following people to do this and tag me so I can read them:

@MsCreativeKerr – Kerry-Ann

@HappyMentality – Ri

@the_rolling_20s ‏ – Ruth

@comfortinganx ‏- Deanna

@larylarxx – Lauren

Don’t forget to tag me so I can read yours! For everyone else, please follow these gorgeous girls.

10 Unusual Facts About Me (A Re Post) @LaureltonStudio #TheClqRT #bloggingtribe @TheBloggersPost @wetweetblogs @sincerelyessie @UKBloggers1 #bloggingbeesrt @BloggingBabesRT #BloggerLoveShare @LovingBlogs This is a repost from Northern Irish Girl Online which is no longer active. Hello, you beautiful, sexy, people,

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