#just you wait for the day I get an actual decent paycheck!

[momochiiee-reblogs]

Oh yeah, two days ago, I had a checkup with the surgeon to see how my scars are healing!

They're finally starting to heal properly! It took them a couple of months of actual rest!

It may sound silly but I am so happy I didn't have to get more meds injected on them... I really needed to quit my shitty fast food job for them to be able to heal up properly 😔

[exhaslo]

Hello! This is something kind of niche but I was wondering if you could write a Pornstar!Miguel x Pornstar!Fem!Reader, where he is a new pornstar and meets with her the day before their shoot. He’s like super sweet to her and they have an informal hangout/date to like be comfortable around each other. Reader tries their best to ease his worry him cuz he seems kinda shy, but the day of their shoot he’s a total freak in the sheets and it totally catches her off guard? Dirty talk, dom and all.

I love your writing so much and I know you’ll do a great job writing whatever your heart desires for this one! Thx in advance <333

No lie this sounds cute as fuck! Here we go!

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, rough sex, dirty talk

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It was another beautiful day. You were ready to receive your next paycheck, but first, you had to help the new guy. A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you walked into a popular coffee shop. You were actually excited for this secret meetup. Normally, it was informal to meet your coworkers before a shoot, but this new guy? Oh, he was your type!

You were a pornstar. It is a long story on how you got into the business, but you were good at acting. A little too good. As you waited in line, you let out a soft sigh. While the paychecks were nice, you were really ready for something new. Cue, your manager making you a teacher and setting you up with newbies.

"Two extra shots of espresso." You muttered, trying to avoid groaning at the thought.

Despite the struggle of your job, you were eager for tomorrow. The new porn star, Miguel, was going to be your next partner. You saw his file and the man was huge and good looking. He was the one who actually asked to meet you in person. It was cute how shy he sounded over the phone.

"(Y/N)?" Miguel waves slowly, sitting in a corner table. You approached him with your drink,

"Hi, Miguel!" You said with a chirp, "My god, you're so tall."

"Sorry," Miguel went to shake your hand before immediately sitting down towards your comment.

You sat across from him, admiring his features. The man chose to become a porn star than a model? He was going to be an instant lady killer! Hopefully his acting was decent.

"Thanks again for meeting me. As you can tell, I'm a little nervous with this being my first shoot and all." Miguel said. You smiled,

"It's no biggie. It's kind of fun breaking the rules like this. Why don't we just chat about ourselves, get more comfortable with each other? I'm sure it will help you out a lot." You offered.

Miguel took the suggestion and the two of you spoke for hours. There was a chemistry there and you sensed it. You were disappointed when you had to leave for the night. Miguel parted ways with and kiss to your hand. He was such a gentleman! You were already imagining the slow and soft sex he was going to give you tomorrow.

It would be different for sure, but you were looking forward to it. Hopefully, Miguel won't disappoint you like all of your other coworkers. It was frustrating to work in the porn industry, but could never cum in your own videos. You always had to fake an orgasm and pleasure yourself later.

"Let's not think of the negative! Just...look forward for tomorrow," You told yourself.

-----------

"Alright, you know the rules. First shoot, newbie gets to pick the theme. We will go from there afterwards," Your manager called out to the crew.

You glanced at Miguel, seeing him nervously look around, "Hey, it's going to be okay. I promise I won't bite, unless you want me too."

"Haha," Miguel smiled towards you, "Is it okay if we do something simple?"

"You get to pick. Why not something that will get you in the mood?" You suggested and showed him the costume room, "Is there something you want to see me wear?"

Miguel looked around, his eyes sparkling at some of the outfits. He glanced back at you,

"I know what I want to do."

---------

"Mhm~ I don't have any money for this massage~ Is there any other way I can pay you?"

You laid against a soft bed, spreading your naked legs apart. Your gaze towards Miguel as you slowly rubbed your own clit. Miguel had chosen a massage sex scene. Something where he could feel your body to get you prepped. How kind and generous of him. You hummed sweetly, faking a moan as you dove your fingers towards your hole.

"No money? That's fine, I'll just have to massage one more place before you can leave."

You're eyes widen as Miguel removed his pants. He hovered over you, stealing your lips in a forceful kiss before his hands roamed your body. You pressed yourself against him, your hand heading towards his cock. Miguel grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head before growling lowly,

"I'm giving the massage. Not you, chica (girl)"

For once, you felt a shiver run down your spine. What happened to the shy man from yesterday? You're eyes widen as Miguel's fingers started to enter your pussy. He started with one, stretching you out more than some of your coworker's dicks. You raised your hips slightly, wanting to help him get more access, but once again he pinned you down.

"Tsk, tsk, do you come onto all your massage therapists?" Miguel spat lowly, "Being such a slut?"

You shivered once more to his cruel tone. He sucked against your breasts while another finger entered your pussy. Miguel's fingers were wandering around your gummy walls, searching for that sweet spot. This was different. You're eyes widen once he curled his fingers, making you moan for real.

"That's right. Pay your bill in full." Miguel whispered.

You gasped lowly as Miguel pumped his fingers against that spot. He removed himself from your breasts, keeping you held down. His thumb pressed against your clit, causing you to squirm under him. Miguel just kept making eye contact with you. It was as if he wanted to watch you break because of him.

"What a slutty face. You like this kind of massage right?"

"Y-Yes." You whimpered, feeling your body burn with pleasure.

This was actually happening. You felt a tight knot growing in your lower abdomen. Miguel's fingers only went faster. It wasn't long until he entered a third finger that really made you break. You arched your back, moaning and whining as he wrecked your pussy with just his fingers alone. With one more curl, you finally felt that tight tension burst.

"You're getting my work area dirty, that's going to cost extra."

You were panting softly from your intense orgasm. Miguel withdrew his fingers, causing you to shiver slightly. You were feeling the need, the want. Your pussy was throbbing and begging to be filled. Miguel was the first person who actually made you cum. You gasped, forcing a smile as you saw him position his dick right against your folds.

He was fucking big! You spread your legs, teasing your entrance for him. This was just part of the job. Miguel grunted as he grabbed your legs, placing them over his shoulders. He bit against your inner thigh before pushing his dick inside you. You whimpered, arching your back as you pretended to be fine.

Miguel's dick was stretching you out. This was a first. His dick felt hot and strong. Once he was fully inside you, Miguel pinched your clit, causing you to moan and whine. He smirked, pounding the life out of your pussy, breaking you down even more.

"So fucking tight. You don't get much exercise here, do you?" He mocked.

You moaned in response, focusing a little too much on how good this felt. His dick beating against your pussy with each rough and wet slap of his hips. His tip kissing your cervix each time, threatening to remind you that this was his moment. You were his fuck toy. You whined, your eyes nearly rolling back as Miguel rubbed your clit again.

"You're going to have to come back. I'm going to have to remind this pussy that it owes me payment." Miguel grunted as he went faster.

You felt your growing orgasm once more. Miguel held your body down against the bed, pressing his dick further inside you. Your mouth formed an 'o' as you started to see stars. Whimpers and moans were all you were able to say as you cam hard against his dick. Even after a second orgasm, you still could not believe that this was happening.

"That's a good fucking sign. My little slut is finally relaxing," Miguel spat as he griped your hips tightly, cumming inside you.

Your body trembled as you felt his hot, sticky load fill you. With a pop, Miguel pulled out, leaving your pussy a mess. A mixture of your juices and his cum pouring out of your abused hole.

"Cut! Good job (Y/N), Miguel! I think that's going to be a killer!" You managed yelled out.

"Are you okay?" Miguel asked as he helped you up. You panted softly, regaining your composure,

"Y-Yeah,"

"I didn't go overboard, did I? You're not hurt?" He kept asking, giving you a towel to wrap yourself with.

"You did amazing. I'm the opposite of hurt," You told him as the two of you walked towards the showers, "In fact, you did something none of my other coworkers could do."

"I did?"

"Yes, and I would love to be your partner for ongoing shoots. If not, then...maybe we can meet outside of work?" You whispered the last part to him, feeling slightly embarrassed. Miguel just smiled,

"I would love that."

You watched Miguel enter the shower first, wondering to which part he agreed to. Unsure, you followed him into the shower, still daydreaming about his dick.

You found out afterwards that Miguel agreed to both.

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I hope you liked it!!! Not really sure how porn videos actually work, haha

[quin-ns]

The blue II (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Series summary: JJ has a secret, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto it. He discovers his breaking point when his best friend starts to show interest in you, his step sister, who he’s already fallen hard for

Series tags: step brother!jj, dual pov, jealousy, one sided john b x reader, drinking, inappropriate relationship, public sex, oral sex (f receiving)

Series masterlist + OBX masterlist

The light chatter filling the restaurant buzzed around you. You leaned on the bar, a rag in your hand as you lazily wiped off menus, your mind yet again wandering back to a few mornings ago.

Ever since you’d woken up on the couch on the Chateau porch, your step brother in the chair across from you, John B in the doorway, and the morning sunlight warming your skin, things seemed off.

John B had been announcing breakfast. It wasn’t anything malicious, but you saw the way JJ eyed him, and John B’s uncomfortable smile in response. Tension was the best way you could think to label it.

You didn’t think anything seemed different between them that night itself, but guys were weird. Their interactions the rest of the day turned back to normal, but that moment stuck in your head for some reason. You couldn’t quite explain it, not even to yourself.

You had a harder time explaining it to Kiara.

“I think you’re just reading into stuff that’s not there,” Kie insisted, passing by you with a platter. She could see the thoughtful look on your face and had probably had enough of your worrying. “Don’t stress out.”

You had to wait until she returned from the table she was waiting on to respond. You helped her out at The Wreck sometimes, picking up a few shifts a week when it was busy. You’d done it just to be kind and give your friend some company, but the paycheck was pretty decent for the hours you worked. You kept a secret stash Luke couldn’t get his grubby hands on, and it helped. When you and JJ weren’t mooching off of your friends for the food in their fridges, you could use the money to stock yours.

JJ used to complain about you working, but not so much anymore. It had mainly been because he didn’t like you working late into the night on days when Kiara got off earlier than you. She always came back to give you a ride home so you didn’t see the big deal, but then JJ started showing up on his bike to escort you himself so she wouldn’t have to. At least it eased his concern enough to let you keep your hours.

You were working the barely populated counter right now, watching Kie zip around, trying to formulate a response in your head.

Maybe you were just overthinking, you were the first to admit you tended to do that. You and JJ practically lived in each other's pockets, if something was up he would tell you… wouldn’t he?

“So you didn't notice anything? Nothing at all?” you asked Kie, the words jumping off your tongue the moment she returned to your side.

The other girl shrugged, stealing two of the menus you had just cleaned.

“JJ just seems like JJ, but… I mean, John B has been looking at you more.”

Your brows curved down. “Looking at me more?”

“Not trying to make him sound like a creep, but yeah.” She smirked, a hand landing on her hip. “Maybe he’s into you.”

“Into me? John B?” It sounded like a joke. “You can’t be serious.”

She raised her hands in mock surrender, menus waving like a flag. “You asked what I thought,” she defended as she walked away.

Did she actually think that? If JJ was suspicious, that might explain things, but you couldn’t be sure.

Kiara stuck around and pulled a double since her parents asked her to, and it worked out well so the two of you could ride together.

That’s why when the restaurant was closed and you and Kie were heading out to her car, you were surprised to find JJ waiting in the parking lot with his bike.

He was leaning against it, his arms crossed over his chest. The blonde smirked when he saw you, a quip about making him wait on the tip of his tongue

You were about to make a dumb joke about him trying to look like a bad boy stereotype to counter—the white T-shirt and boots really added to that—but Kie beat you both to the punch and spoke first.

“What are you doing here?” she asked when the two of you approached him.

“Didn’t think you’d still be here,” JJ said to Kie, standing up straight and tucking his hands into his pockets.

“I texted you she was gonna give me a ride.”

You were certain you had.

“I didn’t see it,” JJ said with a shrug. “You wanna ride with me to the Chateau then? Since I detoured all the way here.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatic tone and looked to Kie.

“I’ll see you there.” You climbed on the back of the bike, waiting for him to hop on the front. “Come on, since you’re in such a rush.”

“You’re so bossy,” he taunted, but climbed on nonetheless. The bike grumbled to life and he revved the engine. “Hold on.”

You wrapped your arms around his midsection, scooting close enough to him to look over his shoulder. Not seeing where you were going gave you a bit of anxiety, even if JJ did tone down on his recklessness when you joined him for a ride.

The bike zoomed off, taking the lead, with Kie driving behind.

You thought of asking him about what had been on your mind, but the wind in your face and the roar of the bike didn’t really afford you the opportunity to make a lot of conversation.

So you clung to him tight, not bothering to try. If anyone else had been driving you would’ve wanted to get off immediately, but you knew JJ wouldn’t let you get hurt. He always looked out for you, the same way you did for him. He was the one constant you had been able to rely on this past year, but you shook your head before you could delve further into that.

You let yourself be distracted from the thought of prison cells by the security of having JJ close and the knowledge that you’d see the rest of your friends soon. It didn’t stop your heart from racing with every sharp turn you took.

“You alright back there?” he questioned over his shoulder, slowing enough for you to be able to hear him. He must’ve noticed the way you held him tighter.

“All good,” you replied, and it was about 80% the truth.

“I’ve never crashed this thing, you can trust me,” he reminded.

“I know,” you said as he started to speed up again. “I do!” you added, having to yell over the engine.

You felt JJ’s body ripple as he chuckled to himself. It was silly to think you were nervous, you’d been on the back of his bike maybe a hundred times by now.

You truly did trust JJ. You didn’t think he was going to crash or anything, it was just that natural adrenaline paired with your racing thoughts of, well, everything, that made your heart slam against your rib cage the way that it did.

You were safe with him. You always were. JJ wasn’t going to crash, and he certainly wasn’t in a fight with John B. Everything was fine.

Getting close with JJ was one of the best things that happened to you, and it came at a necessary time. Your mom going to jail was hard enough, but your friends turning on you and demonizing you was just salt in the wound. Luke, your step dad, was an asshole and a drunk, and it only got worse when he was left without her.

If it wasn’t for JJ you would’ve run away. You had a bag packed and everything, but no one ever knew about that. Nobody but JJ, and that wasn’t until later. Even if he wasn’t the kind of guy to talk about feelings, he saw you were hurting, and made himself more present. He even introduced you to his friends, who you grew close with quicker than you thought possible. It made you realize what real friends were.

You had never been a fan of Luke, but you didn’t realize how truly awful he was until one night you woke up to an argument, and not too long after JJ found you in your room with a bruise on his cheek. You begged him to leave with you, you told him about your plan and how it wasn’t too late, but he wouldn’t. Maybe he was too loyal to his friends, or at the time he didn’t believe you could make it. Either way, he wouldn’t go. So, you stayed for him.

Your bond strengthened quickly and you soon became a lifeline for one another. You’d had best friends before, but it was different with JJ. You needed him, and he never deprived you. You had a brother and a best friend and a partner in crime wrapped all up in one. Life wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t seem so bad after a while. You had JJ to thank for that. You honestly didn’t know what you’d do without him.

You recognized the yard of the Chateau as JJ turned into it, even though it was dark. You’d been here enough now to feel familiar with it—almost more familiar than your own house. To you, JJ, and your other friends, this was your second home.

With John B’s dad missing, you all tried to be there for him as much as possible. It was the least you could do.

You were especially sympathetic. Even though your mom was gone under different circumstances, you understood what it felt like to have a parent be there one day and gone the next. At least you had the comfort of knowing where your mom was, even if she was locked up hours away. John B had no idea, and that broke your heart for him. Big John was a good guy, you only knew him briefly, but you hoped he was alive somewhere, even just for John B’s sake.

The other night when you’d fallen asleep on the couch with him, the two of you had talked about it. Without the others around, the topic turned a little less lighthearted and both of you opened up about your troubles. Not that the others wouldn’t listen or that they wouldn’t be kind, it was just different with only him. Easier, somehow, in an unexpected way.

JJ stopped the bike and helped you off before letting it rest against a tree. He took you by the hand, making sure both your feet hit the ground.

“Thanks,” you muttered, eyes drawn to a glowing orange light in the distance.

“Campfire, nice,” JJ said, mostly to himself, heading for the other two boys that were waving you over.

It took you a second to notice he had yet to drop your hand, just holding it in his as he led the two of you to John B and Pope. You didn’t say anything about it. His skin was a bit calloused and his palm was warm, but you didn’t mind. You tried to recall if he’d ever held your hand before but you couldn’t seem to remember for certain.

“Where’s Kie?” Pope asked when he spotted the two of you, but not the other girl.

JJ snorted. “Nice to see you too, Pope.”

“She was right behind us,” you recalled, turning to see if she had pulled into the yard yet. In the process, you dropped JJ’s hand, not thinking much of it. You saw her headlights briefly, then they shut off. “Let's get this party started.”

Of course wasn’t actually a party, just the five of you sitting around a small fire on various chairs, lightly sipping beers, discussing whatever random thoughts came to mind.

JJ was on your left, and Kiara was on your right. John B was across from you and next to JJ, and Pope was in between John B and Kie.

You only made mental note of the seating arrangement because you still held your suspicions. You had a hard time letting things go.

At first you picked up on the way JJ was in his seat at an angle, facing more towards you with his back to the boy next to him. You also noticed that John B was smiling at you more than he usually did. Not to say he didn’t smile, and you did consider yourself to be at least mildly amusing, but even you knew you weren’t as funny as he acted like you were tonight.

As if that wasn’t enough, you caught the way Pope kept glancing at Kie, but she was oblivious.

After a sip of your beer, you let out a huff. Not quite a laugh, not quite a scoff. You’d meant to keep it in your head, internally mocking your friend group for being so weird tonight, but it slipped out.

“What’s on your mind?” John B wondered, raising his brows at you. He looked amused already, like he assumed you were going to say something good without even knowing.

You shrugged, not about to admit your thoughts out loud.

“What’s on yours?” you countered, matching his curious expression.

He leaned forward a little and smirked at your deflection.

“If El Dorado is real,” John B quipped.

“It’s definitely not,” Pope added despite John B’s clear teasing tone.

“You don’t dream of gold and riches, Pope?” JJ joined in, unable to resist mocking the realist of the group.

Pope just rolled his eyes, but you smirked.

“Your turn,” John B told you.

You hummed thoughtfully. “Where I’m gonna go on vacation. What do you think—Cancun or Bali?”

John B shrugged. “Cancun is closer. What kind of room are you booking? Ocean view would be nice.”

“Why, you wanna come with?”

John B grinned a little too wide and looked away bashfully.

“I don’t know.” His eyes met yours again above the fire. “Do you want the company?”

Something akin to excitement filled you. It was just a silly conversation, but since when did John B turn the charm on with you?

You couldn’t resist playing into it.

“Maybe I do.”

“Can you two quit it?” Kiara piped up, clearly over the bit you and John B had dragged on. “All the flirting is making me nauseous.”

You knew she was just giving you a hard time, and probably couldn’t help but mess with you two about her suspicions, but it still made your teasing smirk drop. You swallowed and sat back in your seat, looking away from John B to her. Your face felt incredibly warm, and not because of the flames.

“Aw, don’t be jealous, Kie,” John B taunted lightly, able to play it off better than you. “You can come with.”

Kiara rolled her eyes so hard you were sure you heard it.

“What is with everyone today…” she muttered. You might’ve been the only one who heard, because no one reacted to her. She didn’t really want an answer anyway.

“Barring the fact that this vacation is hypothetical,” Pope started, as if you all needed to be reminded. He sat up a little, seeming interested still. “I’d also like to be invited.”

“‘Course you’re goin’, Pope!” JJ announced, clapping a hand down on John B’s shoulder. The boom of his voice was so sudden that you nearly jumped from your chair. JJ grinned at the whole group before focusing on the boy next to him. “You got room for the rest of us? Or were you just gonna steal Y/N and take off?”

Everyone heard the bite in JJ’s tone. The silence that followed was deafening, allowing it to replay in all of your minds before John B spoke. You would’ve thought John B was threatening to kidnap you at gunpoint the way JJ made it seem.

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen your friend look so confused as he opened his mouth to respond to JJ, then closed it again. He took another second.

“No one’s stealing anyone,” he clarified to only JJ. The sincerity was a contrast to the ridiculous conversation that had just transpired. “You know that, right?”

JJ clearly wasn’t expecting the question, or maybe he’d planned on making it seem less serious than he was able to. From beside him, you could only see barely the side of his face, but you saw his body shift. He wasn’t sure whether he could relax or not.

You subconsciously glanced at Kiara for confirmation that she too was seeing what you witnessed, and from the pout on her lips and the way her eyes flicked to you, as if asking whether to intervene or not, you knew she did.

“It’s not like we're actually going anywhere,” Kiara pointed out, trying to set their heads on straight.

“Right,” JJ said, as if reminding himself of that. He pulled away from John B completely and slumped back in his chair. He looked embarrassed, throwing you a side glance, but then turned his attention to his beer bottle quickly. “Maybe some other time, when we find El Dorado.”

The joke fell flat

JJ’s gaze stayed on the bottle a second longer before lifting it. He tilted it all the way up, trying to ignore the silence, but with the way he pulled it back and looked annoyed it was clear it was empty.

“I’m gonna get another, you guys want anything?” he offered, already out of his chair and walking across the yard to the house.

When he was out of earshot Pope leaned in to the group. “That was really weird, right?”

You and John B exchanged a look. Then, he stood up.

“I’m gonna…” he trailed off as he pointed towards the house, feet carrying him away from you, Pope, and Kie.

The three of you took a moment, watching John B as he too disappeared into the house.

“Okay, so John B definitely likes you, and I think JJ knows and is pissed,” Kiara concluded, sounding a second away from pulling out a cork board. Except this wasn’t a tough case to crack. “There’s no other explanation.”

“Would JJ even care that much?” Pope pondered aloud.

You looked down at your feet.

“I guess so,” you mumbled, not even bothering to deny either of Kie’s observations.

“I get that he’s being “protective brother””—she did finger quotes around that phrase—“and that’s sweet and all, but he needs to chill,” Kiara said firmly, but the one who needed to hear it wasn’t present.

You wondered what was going on inside. You got antsy just thinking about it.

“Wait, do you think John B likes you?” Pope questioned you.

You felt both him and Kie staring at you, waiting for an answer. When you glanced between them, you grew anxious at the amount of concern in their faces. You especially zeroed in on Kie. The initial teasing giddiness she had at the prospect had long disappeared after seeing how JJ reacted.

You denied it before, and maybe it wasn’t even true, but JJ sure thought it was something. Whatever he thought, he hadn’t been mad at you. No, John B got the brunt of his frustrations. He was protective of you, sure, but… well, you didn’t quite know how to explain it. Your mind was jumbled as you searched for a way to voice your thoughts in an at least somewhat coherent way.

“I—”

Just as you opened your mouth to try, you were cut off by the slam of the porch door of the Chateau.

“Seriously, JJ?” John B called after the blonde, who had barged out the door and was now stomping towards his bike against the tree. “Why are you making such a big deal about this?”

This.

He meant you, didn’t he? You had a good feeling their fight wasn’t about Cancun.

JJ didn’t yell anything back. He just climbed on his bike and revved the engine. You got to your feet just in time to get a clear view as he sped away towards the street and disappeared into the night.

John B looked back towards you. You couldn’t see the face he made in the distance in the dark, but you saw how his hands dropped to his sides in defeat.

“That cannot have been good…” Pope stated uncomfortably.

John B approached you all, his silhouette becoming more illuminated the closer he got to the fire.

“I, um.” He scratched the back of his head. “I think I’m gonna call it a night if that’s cool with you guys.”

You found yourself agreeing with Pope, even though the words didn’t come out.

“Yeah, okay,” Kiara responded first, almost cautiously. She looked to you. “Do you need a ride?”

Of course you did, yours completely abandoned you. It was still nice of her to ask as if it was a polite offer and not a necessity.

“Thanks, Kie,” you told her, forcing a smile. “I’d appreciate that.”

“I need to get home anyway, I gotta work with my dad in the morning,” Pope joined in, trying to make the exit seem more natural. “See you guys later,” he said, bidding you all farewell, anxious to escape the bubble of awkwardness.

Kiara looked between you and John B. You wouldn’t really fix your eyes anywhere, but he was looking at you. You could feel it.

You weren’t sure how you wanted your friend to react, but she took John B’s hint and made an excuse to go to her car—something about getting it started so the AC would flow. It was totally fake, anyway.

You weren’t really listening, more focused on the sound of the crackling fire and nighttime creatures.

John B sighed a little and that caught your attention.

“Sorry he took off like that,” he apologized, offering a sympathetic smile.

You shook your head. “Not your fault.”

He looked down for a second and stuffed his hand into his pockets.

“It… might be,” he admitted, voice holding a guilt that matched his stance. You just watched him, waiting for him to meet your eye and continue. “I kinda have a thing for you and JJ doesn’t exactly like that, apparently.”

You should’ve been more surprised, but you weren’t naive enough to pretend it was some big plot twist reveal.

You nodded slowly instead, unsure how to respond to that.

Sure, you liked John B as a friend, but did you have a crush on him? You didn’t know—didn’t think so. Flirting with him was fun, but you never thought of it being more than that until tonight. If you did like him, or at least if you were starting to, it was now tainted by JJ’s reaction.

“Sorry he freaked out on you,” you said after a long moment.

“Not your fault,” he returned your words back to you. “I wasn’t planning on telling you like this, or telling you at all right now but um… I assumed you probably started to figure it out.”

His awkward laugh eased the tension a little, and you felt your shoulders relax.

“Sorta, maybe,” you confessed. You pointed your thumb over your shoulder to where the jeep was parked. “Kiara kinda suspected it before all this so…”

“Sounds like her,” John B replied easily. “I don’t expect you to say anything back right now, I just thought you might want some sort of explanation for all”—he gestured to the house where what you assumed was an argument between him and your step brother had taken place—“that.”

John B was telling you he had feelings for you, and somehow it had become all about JJ. You bet the blonde would’ve gotten a kick out of that.

“I’ll talk to him, he’ll be fine. He always is,” you told your friend. He nodded, seeming relieved by that. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

As you were passing by John B to leave, you did something you instantly wanted to take back.

You stopped in front of him and pressed up on your tiptoes. You gave him a light kiss on the cheek, more of an apologetic gesture than anything else, but you knew how it would look to him.

He told you he had a crush on you, and you kissed him on the cheek.

Guys didn’t usually appreciate the nuances of things like that, even an intelligent guy like John B. You could only hope he took it for what it was.

Your back was to him before he could question you, and you fought the urge to explain yourself.

“See ya,” John B called after you, sounding like he was about to stumble over his words if he continued.

You clenched your eyes shut for a long moment. It was only because you lost your sense of direction that you opened them again and sought out the jeep.

Kiara was quiet for the beginning of the drive, waiting for you to talk first. When you didn’t, she filled the silence.

“You wanna go to my house? My parents won’t mind,” she offered, sensing the unspoken stress radiating off of you.

You shook your head a little.

“I gotta talk to JJ,” you explained in a few words. It was more than enough. “John B told me he likes me,” you added, laying your head against the window, unable to keep it to yourself.

There was a sort of exhaustion to your voice that didn’t allow Kiara to smile at the revelation right away.

“Told you,” she commented instead, only letting herself chuckle when you cracked a smile at her tone. “Do you like him back?”

“I haven’t really thought about it. I don’t know,” you said. You didn’t think you did but you weren’t exactly sure now. “That’s a question for another night.”

Kie nodded. She witnessed what you had, after all.

“If you don’t know, maybe it’s a sign you don’t,” she suggested, glancing over to you briefly. “But if you do, JJ will get over it.”

Something in you suggested maybe that wouldn’t be the case, but you forced a smile when you tilted your head and met her gaze as if to agree—or thank her, at least, for the support.

When she pulled up outside your house, you had to drag yourself out of the car. A confrontation was coming up, there was no way it wasn’t.

You weren’t going to be able to just pretend nothing happened, and even if you did resist questioning JJ and ignored him instead, he’d sense your annoyance and push you until you talked to him. And talking, in this case, would lead to arguing. You hated arguing.

When you got inside the house, it was dark. The only light came from the TV. With it, you spotted Luke passed out on the couch, so you kept your footsteps quiet as you trekked through clutter back to your room.

Opening your door, you weren’t sure whether to find it surprising or not that JJ was in your bed. He often sought comfort with you in your room after hard times, but you began to wonder if he still did the same even when you weren’t present.

He was laying stomach down, flat on the mattress. His head was to the side, resting on your pillow, and his feet were hanging off the edge. At least he was nice enough to not put his dirty boots on your clean sheets, even if he had invaded your space.

Just like the rest of the house, your room was dark. You shut the door behind you when you stepped in and went for your bedside lamp.

You clicked it on and crossed your arms, looking down at the blonde. You caught him blinking and knew he was awake, although you didn’t actually think he was trying to pretend.

You subconsciously scanned his face—the part that you could see—for new injuries and found nothing.

“That really wasn’t cool,” you scolded him when you saw he was awake. “Fighting with John B then storming off like that.”

He ignored you, just flicking his eyes up to you wordlessly.

You rolled your eyes, frustration brewing. In an instant, you snatched the pillow from beneath his head and tossed it on an empty space on the bed.

JJ sat up with a reluctant frown. “Thanks, I’ll remember that next time.”

Your stomach turned when you saw a new bruise on his cheek. It was on the side of his face he’d hidden in the pillow.

You wanted to help him, to get ice, but his face almost held a warning for you not to.

“Don’t,” he murmured when he saw your expression soften. “It’s fine.”

The way he planted his feet on the ground and stared up at you made him seem like you were putting him in time-out or something. You didn’t like that feeling. Why was he so stubborn?

“There’s not gonna be a next time, you need to fix this,” you insisted, going back to the topic beforehand, feeding the narrative you were trying to resist.

JJ scoffed and even shook his head, it reminded you of how he had acted around all your friends.

“Funny how you seem to think you’re the boss of me,” he challenged, clearly in a bad mood. Whatever anger he’d been feeling at the Chateau had only been amplified by whatever transpired here in your absence. “Why does it matter anyway? Can you just stay out of it?”

“Well, if you weren’t all weird and hadn’t ditched me, maybe I wouldn’t be involved.”

A look of guilt broke through JJ’s rough exterior. His eyes turned to the floor, looking almost ashamed. The room was quiet for a moment, all you could hear was breathing.

“Sorry about that,” he said, voice lower than before. “I shouldn’t have left you.”

You let out an exhale. It was really hard to stay mad at him when all you wanted was to take him into your arms. It must’ve been hard for him to apologize, ‘sorry’ had never been his thing.

“It’s fine, I got a ride with Kie,” you uttered, letting him off the hook even though you should not have. There were more pressing matters. “Did you and John B fight about me?”

That made him look up, a sense of panic in those blue eyes of his.

“Is that what he said?” JJ asked, regaining composure as he stood, but still scanning your face.

“Not in those exact words,” you relayed. “But he told me he liked me and that you weren’t happy about it.”

JJ’s face shifted and he shook his head. He didn’t deny it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed you instead in a way that made it hard not to take offense.

You weren’t used to him treating you this way, like you didn’t deserve to be involved in whatever was going on with him. Not to mention you were directly affected, whether JJ wanted you to be or not.

“How about you don’t worry about it?” you snapped back, defiance kicking in. It was an instinct, you’d never had to talk back to him in this way. Sure, you’d argued before about little things, but this wasn’t that. “If I like him or not, it’s my choice.” You furthered his surprise by jabbing a finger at his chest. “Not yours.”

You saw JJ’s jaw tense. He was trying to find the right words.

“You can’t,” he came up with, spitting it out like he couldn’t keep it in.

You furrowed your brows, the corners of your lips tugging down.

“Can’t?” you repeated in disbelief. “Okay, JJ.”

“I’m serious,” he replied to your heavy sarcasm. “You just can’t,” he argued, with noticeably less power than before. It sounded pleading, even. Like he was begging you not to even consider it.

“Why?” you questioned, less fire igniting your temper. If anything, you were curious now.

“Can you just drop it?” he shot back, running a hand through his messy hair. He appeared more panicked than angry, realizing the corner he’d backed himself into.

“No, not when you made it a thing. Just tell me what is going on,” you pressed, wanting a straightforward answer.

What was so awful about this to him?

The fingers in his hair tightened, like he was going to rip the strands out.

“Can you not ask me that?” he nearly demanded, dropping his hand, fingers twitching at his side. The request was so ridiculous you couldn’t help but laugh. JJ’s frown deepened into something more hurt. “I don’t want to talk about this with you,” he determined, trying to walk past you.

You put a hand out, stopping him by the chest. You tilted your chin up at the close proximity, making him meet your eye.

“Can you just answer the question?” you countered, using little force to keep him in place. You stared up, watching him as he stared at you wordlessly. “You’re not a coward, JJ.” Maybe it was antagonistic, but you wanted an answer. You were at the end of your rope. “You always speak your mind—so do it.”

Then, JJ did just about the last thing you ever expected him to.

He kissed you.

[pensat-i-fet]

Too good for you (Rúben Dias x Reader)

**Welcome to an imagine that wasn’t requested but that was inspired by one of my dreams (but then I really only kept a tiny detail from the dream). This is a bit spicy, a bit angsty, also slightly toxic and everyone (but Kepa, who has a little cameo because the one in my dream was Juan Mata and how random is that?) is an asshole. But I think it’s fun! It was one of those where I let the story go where it wanted to go. I didn’t choose any of this. The story chose its own path and that’s cute. Enjoy! ❤️**

Word count: 4030

Masterlist

Wattpad

Another day, another photoshoot. But this one was pretty special. You had worked for Armani before, walking their show and doing some catalogue work for them. But this time it was a campaign they wanted you to be a part of and that was huge for your career. And the paycheck was going to be pretty decent too.

Also, you were shooting with a football player so you knew that your work was going to get a lot more exposure because of his presence. And it was a player you actually knew, which could make the shoot pretty interesting. Whether it’d be in a good or a bad way was to be determined.

"Come here for a sec so we can double-check it all fits nicely".

"Sure", you said, following the stylist. "Is the player here already?"

She looked at you with a knowing look. "No, he's a bit late. Traffic is pretty bad".

"Cool. We'll wait then".

Fittings were done quickly and so you moved to hair and makeup. The look was pretty natural so that was done quickly but with it being an underwear shoot, the makeup artists had to make sure to apply makeup all over your body. And it was while they did it that Rúben showed up.

"Hello everyone, sorry I'm late".

His voice made you look up from your phone. Rúben looked you up and down and for a second you felt a bit self-conscious standing in front of him, and a crew of 20 people, in just a thong and a bra. As if he hadn't seen you in less.

While he was getting ready for the shoot, you put on a robe and sat down next to him.

"I thought you wouldn't make it".

"Bad traffic. I wish I had gotten here early. I might have volunteered to do your body makeup".

"Of course you would have".

"Do you want to do mine?", he whispered.

"I want to be home before midnight so hurry up".

"By home, you mean your place or mine?"

Rolling your eyes, you got up to check if there was something nice you could eat. Catering at these shoots was usually pretty good if you got to the table before all the good food was taken and only the dry carrot sticks were left.

"You didn't tell me you knew him", said your agent.

"I don't know him. I know what's in his jeans. It's different".

"Is it going to be an issue?"

"Why should it be?"

"I don't want you to mess up this big opportunity. Who knows how your career could develop after this".

Yeah, and you want the commission that comes from big-money jobs like this one.

"I won't mess up".

"How did you even meet him? I thought your friend played for Chelsea".

"At a party. It doesn't matter".

Yes, your friend played for Chelsea. But he had nothing to do with you meeting Rúben. As you said, that happened at a party. You didn't even recognise him at first. You just noticed a hot guy approaching your friend group and decided to start dancing with him before Gina, who had been staring at him all night, could do it first. Your friend group also consisted of people you didn't like that much. It was a fashion industry thing.

"Do I look good?"

Rúben was now next to you, wearing the underwear picked for the first few photos you needed to take. And yeah, he looked alright.

"As if you need me to tell you how good you look. You already tell yourself every morning when you look in the mirror".

"Is being confident a sin?"

"No", you said, getting closer to him. "Being arrogant is".

"Then we're both sinners".

"Sinning can be fun".

"It's fun when I do it with you".

That last sentence was whispered in your ear and you had to try hard not to blush. So you left him to go get changed into your first outfit.

"Wow! You don't need me to tell you how good you look either but I will".

You turned your hips slightly, letting him see how good you really looked while you pretended to adjust your panties with one of your hands, making sure Rúben's eyes followed your movements. "I mean, anything is an improvement from the skin colour thong I had to wear for fittings and hair and make-up. Least sexy piece of underwear you'll ever see. This", you said, pointing at your current outfit, "is a lot better, right?"

The way Rúben stared at you gave you all the answers you needed. "Believe me, seeing you in your underwear is always a pleasure. No matter the colour or design. But this…", he was now touching the little piece of lace that adorned the sides of the panties you were wearing. "Can you keep the clothes you wear at shoots?"

"Not usually but I think with underwear is different so maybe I get lucky".

"I'm feeling very lucky at the moment", he muttered, still staring at the fabric he had touched.

The photographer interrupted the moment, asking you to actually do your job. How inconvenient. And so you and Rúben moved to the shooting area and listened to the ideas the photographer had for the shoot.

You had actually been excited to shoot with Rúben. First, because you thought his look complimented yours really well. Sometimes you were paired with male models that looked so odd next to you but you and Rúben looked great together. Then there was the fact that you already knew him, which meant you were a bit more comfortable doing a more intimate shoot like this one. And of course, you wanted to see him. He mentioned you texting him if you visited Manchester but you had been travelling a lot and didn't get to see him in person ever since that party in Lisbon.

You also expected your chemistry to be good. At the party, you two connected immediately and felt incredibly comfortable in each other's company the whole night. So this should have been the same. But Rúben seemed to be struggling a bit.

"What's wrong?", you asked him during a small break.

"Well, it's a bit challenging to be this close to you while you wear almost nothing, you know?"

"Control the hormones, Dias. You're acting like a horny 15-year-old. Though I guess men never get over that stage. At least not mentally".

The pieces from the collection were stunning but a few were very impractical. Putting them on felt like you were doing a puzzle. And you could only imagine how difficult it would be to take them off, especially in specific situations where you'd be in a hurry to get rid of the underwear. But they did look good.

"Can somebody help me?", you called and heard the curtain move just seconds later.

You didn't even turn, used to random people helping in those situations. "I can help with that".

"Rúben, you shouldn't…".

"Shh".

You could feel his finger untangling the straps and doing the clasps. But before you could turn to face him, he bent down to kiss the side of your neck. When his hands went to your hips, you forgot for a second where you were and just leaned back into his touch. But a noise made by the crew startled you and you separated from Rúben quickly.

"We're working. We can't…".

But he wasn't listening anymore. He just grabbed your face so he could kiss you and you barely allowed him to touch your lips.

"My makeup. How am I going to explain it being smudged?"

"Are you wearing any?"

"Are you serious? Of course I am".

He leaned forward, impossibly close to you, and stared at your eyes. It was hard to keep eye contact but you managed. He then moved to your lips and smiled. "Yeah, I guess I can see a bit of product there. But it can be reapplied, right?"

"Stop it", you said, pushing him away from you and leaving the changing area.

Yeah, you could understand now what he meant by the shoot being challenging. But you were professional and a couple of hours later, you heard the magical words it’s a wrap.

“Where are you staying?”

The voice startled you and you held onto the shirt you were buttoning up for dear life. “Rúben! You can’t come inside. I’m getting changed”.

“I just spent 3 hours with you by my side wearing the smallest underwear I’ve ever seen in my life”.

“Really? You need to go out more”.

He rolled his eyes, before staring at your bare legs. “Besides, I’ve already seen everything there was to see”.

“It doesn’t mean you can see it again”.

“Not even if I say please?”

This time, you let him get closer and kiss you. And of course, you left with him. Much better than going back to the hotel.

                                        **

Back in London, you continued working non-stop. The Armani campaign was about to be released and some other brands wanted to work with you before that.

And for the second time in a month, you got to work with someone you knew well. But this time it wasn’t Rúben, but your friend Andrea.

“I love your hair”, she said the moment she saw you.

“Thanks. I had to cut it for a job but I’m really into this style”.

“Looks amazing on you”.

Catalogue shooting wasn’t the most thrilling part of being a model but it was pretty simple. And the crew you were working with was always fun to be around. So when it was time for a break, you all ordered food and chatted about everything and nothing while eating.

“Are you free this weekend?”, asked Andrea while you were getting ready to carry on shooting.

“I think so. Why?”

“Kepa has this event and I can’t go so we thought you could go with him. It’d be good for networking and all that”.

You met Kepa after working with his wife Andrea and became really good friends with both of them. It wasn’t the first time he had invited you to an event but…it was usually events that Andrea was attending too.

“I don’t know if it’s the best idea. I’ll be there as what? Your husband’s companion? What if people start to make up rumours?”

“It doesn’t have to be weird. Plus, it’s a very informal event. There might not be any press there at all and there is no need to dress up. It’ll be fine”.

“I’ll think about it”.

And that you did. Andrea kept sending you info and it really was a great opportunity to network. Also, the topic for the event sounded very interesting so you really wanted to go.

That’s how you found yourself arriving at the venue with Kepa by your side.

“Are any of your teammates attending the event too?”

“Why? Are you interested in any of them?”

“Kepa…stop. We’ve had this conversation before and no, I don’t like any of your teammates. None of them is my type”.

“You’ll break their hearts”, he laughed.

Kepa was busy talking to some people he knew so you decided to walk around saying hello to everyone. And that was when you saw him.

“What are you doing here?”

Rúben turned when he heard your voice and a big smile appeared on his face when he saw you standing in front of him.

“I was invited to the event. You?”

“I’m here with my friend”.

The word friend made him frown. “Another model?”

“No. Actually, another footballer”.

Rúben started to look around until his eyes fell on Kepa, the only other player that was currently there. “Him?”

“Yes, he’s my friend. Any problems?”

“You can do better than him”.

You laughed, not believing what you were hearing. “He’s married to my friend. We’re just friends, you idiot”.

“Is she here too?”

“No, she’s busy today. That’s why I’m here”.

“Big boy Kepa can’t go to places alone? Does he need you to babysit him?”

“Have you always been an asshole or am I just noticing? Don’t speak like that about my friend”.

Spotting Kepa, you left Rúben standing alone, staring at you while you walked towards your friend. His eyes never stopped following you around the venue and you could tell. But you avoided him.

Rúben kept trying to get your attention but you pretended not to notice and it was driving him insane. So when it was just you and Kepa standing next to the food, he decided to go introduce himself.

“Hey there, mate. Nice seeing you here”.

Kepa stared at him. They had never interacted outside of the pitch. “Sure. This is my friend…”.

“I know who she is”.

Kepa looked at you, frowning. So you had to clarify the situation for him. “Rúben and I did a shoot together recently. You’ll see it soon”.

“Right”, laughed Kepa. “Well, good to see you too. We gotta go…”.

“Maybe we could chat for a second”, he said, looking at you.

“Maybe I want to go with Kepa instead of chatting”.

Kepa kept looking from you to Rúben and then back, not understanding anything that was happening but if you wanted to leave, he was going to help you.

“She’s right. We need to leave now before my wife gets back home”.

When Rúben saw Kepa grab your hand to lead you to the door, his jealousy grew even more. “You have to make sure you finish before she gets back?”

Hearing that, Kepa let go of your hand immediately and before he had time to say anything, you had already slapped Rúben’s face.

“Don’t you ever insinuate something like that about me”.

Kepa had two options. Following you or copying your actions and slapping Rúben too. But even if he would have loved to do the same as you, he chose to follow you since people were getting closer to see what was going on. And his team had enough dramas to worry about.

"What was that about?"

"I would like to know too".

"Did he bother you at that shoot? You could complain to the brand or something. And if he's harassing you…".

"Kepa, I appreciate you worrying but it's nothing like that. I…I met him at a party a while ago and we hooked up. And then we met at the shoot and hooked up again. But I don't know, he was acting like a jealous boyfriend or something. And saying that about us…who does he think he is?"

"You were right to slap him. I wish I could have done the same".

You shook your head. You weren't an aggressive person. Actually, you avoided conflicts as much as you could. But hearing Rúben say that was too much. You couldn't not react.

Kepa invited you to stay over for dinner and you were a bit wary to say yes until you saw Andrea was back. She was fuming when she heard what had happened.

"Well, the good thing is you don't have to see him again".

"Actually…", her words made you realise you had to see Rúben again. Very soon. "We need to do an event to promote the campaign. I can't say no, Andrea. It's the biggest job I've ever done".

"You have to go", said Kepa. "Don't let him affect your career. Just pose with him for the red carpet or whatever and then you can stay away from him".

"Yeah, I'll do that".

But it was easier said than done.

                                        **

Rúben had tried his hardest to apologize. He didn't even know what got into him to talk to you like that. Well, he knew. Jealousy. But what right did he have to be jealous?

Still, he apologized on social media and even sent flowers to your agency. But got no response from you.

"This is what he'll wear", said the stylist, bringing the suit Rúben would wear to the event. "So we have to pick something that goes well with it".

You tried ten different outfits and none pleased the Armani team. But then you spotted a little black dress that no one had looked at.

"Can't go wrong with an LBD, right?"

They turned to see you holding the dress and one of the stylists shrugged. "Might as well see how it looks on. With those long legs of yours, it should look fine".

So you tried it on and it fit like a glove. The exposed back and the length gave it the sexy touch the brand wanted. You were promoting underwear not coats. But the front was more conservative, so it was sexy but still classy.

They paired it with some black heels and someone put your hair up in a messy bun to see how the neckline looked. You looked absolutely perfect. And you couldn't help but smirk thinking how it was going to drive Rúben insane.

But the first person you saw at the event wasn't Rúben, it was Gina.

"Hiii! Oh my God, you look gorg!"

Her smile was so fake, you feared she would get a migraine from the pressure on her jaw.

"I know".

"And you got to work with that hottie you slept with that one time. Where is he? Still single, I guess".

"I guess. But he told me he doesn't like obnoxious blondes so maybe don't waste your time".

"You're always such a bitch!"

"Not always, Gina. You just bring out the worst in me. Such a talent!"

Everyone was getting ready for the red carpet and it was then that you finally saw Rúben. He stood next to you but didn't even acknowledge you. Was he for real?

Once on the red carpet, he turned quickly to look at you and placed his hand on the small of your back. Your bare back. It was easier for you to just smile at the camera even if you didn't feel like it but he managed to do it as well.

You kept turning to show your outfit, placing your hands on his arms, shoulders or even chest.

"Stop moving", he whispered. His hand never leaving your back.

"I'm just doing my job. But nice to know the cat didn't get your tongue. Or were you just waiting to talk until you could accuse me of being a homewrecker again?"

"I messed up and I tried to apologize".

"Try harder".

The photographers thanked you and you started to walk away from the carpet, knowing Rúben was right behind you. When you turned your head to see him, you could see the way he stared at your body. He noticed you looking at him so we walked faster to catch up with you.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say something like that. I don't even know why I did".

"It was a very disgusting thing to say about someone you barely know".

"Again, I'm sorry. Please, let's pretend it didn't happen".

"Hi! Ruben right?", hearing Gina's voice, you closed your eyes to try to get rid of any murderous feelings.

"Yeah. Do I know you?"

She was now looking at you. "Be nice and introduce your friend".

"Who's the friend? You?"

Her fake laugh made you cringe. "She's so funny. Hi! I'm Gina".

"Rúben. Are you a model too?"

Oh God… "No silly, but do you think I could be one?"

"She's just an influencer who follows anyone with over 10k followers on Instagram around. If you slept with her, the whole country would know before you even finish".

Seeing Rúben's face made you laugh. He looked so uncomfortable.

"We gotta go, G. Everyone wants to see the stars of the event".

"You're just the accessory. He is the star".

Now she was showing her true colours. "Better than being the one that got a pity invite".

After a couple of seconds, Rúben caught up again.

"Are you going to roast me too?"

"You would deserve it as much as she does. But if you want to be told how amazing you are, Gina will be here the whole night".

"I have to be with my fellow star".

"Not your accessory?"

"I don't think you'd ever allow anyone to treat you just like an accessory".

"No one should allow anyone to treat them like that".

The whole night you had to be paraded around telling people about the collection and just hearing over and over again how great the campaign was. You knew that already. The photos were everywhere you looked and they were terrific. You knew that photographer was good but seeing the results in front of you made you realise how truly lucky you were to work with her.

"Do you like them?"

"Yes. These will be on my showcard for fashion week for sure".

"What's that? The card, I mean. I know what fashion week is".

"It's this little card with a couple of photos and my measurements. I have to take them to castings to give to the casting directors so they have all my info if they decide to hire me for the job".

"Interesting".

"You could model when you retire from football, you know?"

Rúben raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. I feel ok taking my own photos but working with photographers is weird".

"They stop you from doing stupid poses so it might be weird but look at the result".

He would have said something about your insult but could just stare at your fingers drawing invisible lines over the photos. Your fingers moved along the lines his muscles created and you seemed hypnotized by what you were doing.

He leaned towards you so he could whisper in your ear. "You know you can touch the real me too if you want to, right?"

"And yet you only get to touch me in the photos".

"You sure?"

His hand was now back on the small of your back and he could see the goosebumps caused by his touch. After looking around to make sure no one was there, he leaned down to kiss your shoulder and you kept staring at the photos trying not to show a reaction to his touch. But also not moving away, craving more.

"What's your favourite photo of the campaign?", you asked, interrupting the kisses that were now getting closer to your neck. And you knew once the neck kisses started, it was game over.

Rúben looked around at all the photos. "That one".

You looked at the photo he pointed and it was one of you with your back to the camera. You were topless so your back was as exposed as it was at that moment and you couldn't stop smiling seeing the rest of the photo.

"Is it my beautiful profile you like?", you asked, copying the pose so he could see the profile twice.

"Sure. But that thong…that's the sexiest piece of lingerie I've ever seen and I've seen a few. And of course, it looks even better because it's you wearing it".

"Do you want to know a secret?", he nodded. "That's what I'm wearing tonight. They let me keep the whole collection".

"You're kidding".

"Shame you won't be able to find out if it's true or not".

You left the room but not before turning to see Rúben unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. Yes, you were driving him insane. And no, he wasn't going to find out if you were telling the truth or not. Should have thought twice before pissing you off.

                                        **

After that event, Rúben tried to contact you but you ignored him. So he had almost given up. That was until he had to play against Chelsea. He obviously didn't make a great first impression in front of Kepa but perhaps they could talk, man to man, and fix that. So when the match ended, Rúben tried to find him quickly to talk to him with the excuse of needing to shake his hand after the match.

"So, your friend…".

"She's too good for you, brother. And you messed up and she doesn't give second chances. Sorry".

[usmsgutterson]

always an angel, never a god- “I lost the love of my life on the day of our fucking wedding!” & “You’re the person who almost dies, not actually dies. C’mon, wake up. Please.” 

Nikolai Lantsov's wedding with reader! but it takes a turn for the worse...

(hurt! & dying!Nikolai pleaseeeee)

The Life You Could've Had- N.L x gn! reader

I can definitely do this one and thank you for requesting it--I haven't written angst in what feels like a very long time and it was great to get to write it again! I am sorry about how long this took but I hope that the result was worth the wait.

I did change up one of the prompts a bit because I couldn't make it work without adding a dialogue tag, which I hope is all right!

Fic type- angst

Warnings-major character death, violence, mention and depiction of stabbing and throat slitting

Your wedding day was a day that you'd been looking forward to for ten months. You were by the lake, trees surrounding you decked out in white fairy lights, a couple of fires set by Inferni in sparsely placed firepits so that people had a place to warm up as the night drew closer and the weather grew colder.

You'd been dating Nikolai since you were seventeen, had been by his side throughout the entirety of those seven years and not lived to regret a moment of it.

The shouting came so quickly and from so many voices that neither you or Nikolai could really discern much of it before the gunfire started.

You heard voices shouting demands in Kaelish, in Fjerdan, a random voice here or there shouting in Kerch.

It made no sense; the Kerch were the country of neutrality, so you could recall. Why would they have allied with the Kaelish and the Fjerdans?

They lived for their neutrality unless it came down to money in the name of Ghezen, and it really wasn't as though the Fjerdans and the Kaelish had hundreds of thousands of kruge to drop on bribes to the right people in the city of Ketterdam.

But, once you realized that you'd only heard a few Kerch voices in the mix of Fjerdan shouts and Kaelish rumbling, you realized it could've very well been Druskelle who'd been born and raised in Ketterdam and had kept a foothold on their language.

Druskelle were typically from Fjerda, but Kerch who were greedy enough to hunt Grisha and kill them or bring them to trial for an above-decent paycheck weren't unheard of. They were just rare.

You and Nikolai both sprung into action quickly. You heard Nikolai thank Tolya as he was passed a sword that was on Tolyas person, and you were quick to fight the gun out of the hand of the first soldier you saw.

You caught Zoya looking at you as she hoisted a Fjerdan soldier up into the sky, and you only shrugged.

He had a very punchable face, you mouthed.

They all do, Zoya mouthed back.

And then the fighting worsened. The soldiers stormed the Little Palace, and everyone fighting against them followed them in. You fought with your life, not caring when your clothes tore and your hair fell out of place.

Your wedding day had turned into quite the unfair fight, and regardless of how unfair it was, you were not going to let the Fjerdans and their Kaelish allies win.

You wondered where Nikolai was, tried to search for him in the midst of the fighting. You couldn't find him, though, and that set alight a fear in you like nothing else.

What had happened the last time someone you knew couldn't find their spouse on their wedding day?

You looked around hurriedly, tried to find Nikolai in the midst of everything, almost dropping your gun and fighting your way through the mess of it all with only your fists.

When a Kaelish soldier found you, you only shot him twice with the gun you'd stolen before he was down; once in the chest, once in the leg. He'd bleed out, was already begging for forgiveness as he lay limp on the ground.

You turned around and spotted Nikolai underneath the light of a light fixture in the ceiling. A grin crossed your face as you spotted him, and you caught that handsome grin on his face when he spotted you in turn.

You barely had time to shout his name before a Fjerdan soldier was driving Nikolais blade home--through his stomach. Nikolais face showed horror as he registered it, somehow having managed to miss his sword being taken off his person, and you suddenly found yourself running to him, shoving Fjerdans and Kaelish and soldiers on the side of Ravka out of the way.

You got to him as he fell to the ground, hand clutching the wound that was in a fatal spot.

"He was...he was blonde," Nikolai said. "His eyes were green. He was six and a half feet tall by my estimate. He was wearing the black that Druskelle wear but there was an arm band; it was emerald for the Kaelish--for the Kaelish alliance."

"Nik," you whispered. "Nik, stop. I'll get him, it'll be okay."

"Yeah," Nikolai said, pairing it with a weak nod and the knowledge that neither of you actually believed your statement. "Yeah. We'll be fine."

"We'll hold another ceremony," you said. "One where we can say our vows and kiss and not be interrupted before the cake cutting."

"Yeah," Nikolai nodded again. "Yeah."

You pressed your forehead against his, pressed a weak kiss against his lips as he looked at you, hands moving to your waist. He wouldn't hug you; he didn't want his blood to stain your clothes. It almost made you scoff. Even when he was dying, Nikolai was considerate.

"I love you, Y/N," he said. "I love you so much. If there's no next life, I'm haunting you until you join me."

"You're not dying," you said. "You're not. I am not losing my husband on my wedding day. I simply refuse."

He laughed as he pulled away from you, the grin you held so dearly now weak, just as weak as he was.

"I just need you to know that," Nikolai said. "I need you to understand that. I loved you more than I ever loved anyone else. You meant the world to me."

"I love you too," you responded, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. "Saints, I loved you so much."

He was grinning as his eyes closed.

Moments passed, the quietness you felt in your heart as a hole was dug in it growing almost unbearable. You wanted his eyes to open again, wanted to see the man you loved persevere.

"You’re the person who almost dies, not actually dies. C’mon, wake up. Please," you said.

Another few moments passed, and you finally forced yourself to accept that your husband was dead. It broke your heart into a thousand pieces at once, shattering like a glass plate being dropped onto the floor.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead and stood, scanning the room for the features Nikolai had described to you. Blonde, green eyes, six and a half feet tall, Druskelle black outfitting with an emerald green arm band to signify the alliance between the Fjerdan and the Kaelish.

The moment you laid eyes on the guy Nikolai had described--the one you'd seen take your beloveds life with his sword--you were after him.

Tamar and Zoya both helped, Tamar slowing his heart rate and dropping him to his knees. When she stopped, Zoya used her squallers wind to keep him down.

You took his sword, the sword that Nikolai had wielded, the one that the Fjerdan soldier had stolen, and stabbed him thrice. Once in the leg, once in the stomach, once just beneath his left arm, aiming for his heart.

Then you dropped the sword and let Zoya and Tamar lead you away, let them rush you toward the Darklings old quarters.

Tolya and Genya were there already, waiting. Tolya was pacing, Genya was sitting at the small round table in the center of the room.

"Where's Nikolai?" Tolya asked.

You almost broke down at the mention of his name.

"Where is he?"

Genya met your gaze, and it was like she knew. "Everything is going to be fine, Y/N."

"I lost the love of my life on the day of our fucking wedding!" You shouted. "There is nothing that can fix that."

"He's gone?" Tolya asked. "Oh, Y/N. I am so sorry."

You were crying again, but quick to wipe the tears away. "I killed the one who killed him. I'm fine."

"You're not," Genya said. "You're allowed to feel this, Y/N. The life you could've had was ripped away from you by Fjerdan fools and their Kaelish compatriots. You're allowed to grieve Nikolai and you're allowed to hate them."

"How can we help?" Tolya asked.

"Do we have soldiers available at this point?" You asked. "Grisha, guard staff, anyone?"

"Thirty Grisha who haven't been sent to the field," Tamar said. "Two hundred guard staff who hadn't heard the commotion, who I ordered to stay in place in case we needed reinforcements. I checked the numbers before Zoya and I found you."

"Box the Fjerdans and the Kaelish in, then," you said. "Jail them. They'll see trial for treason against Ravka and the murder of the Ravkan king. I don't care if their bosses come to try to save their asses, use the Grisha and the guard staff to box them in, start detaining them, and we'll cross the bridge involving the likes of Jarl Brum when we come to it."

Tamar nodded. "I'll send out the orders to get the Grisha and the guard staff moving."

"It'll get easier with time," Genya offered. "Speaking from my own experience."

You remembered David at that, and a pang stabbed your heart as you remembered that you'd yelled at her.

"I am so sorry--"

"Don't be," Genya said. "I would've snapped even at the likes of Zoya on that day if I were feeling anything more then sadness at the time."

You offered her a sad, tired, broken grin, and she gave you a bright but grief stricken smile in return.

Grieving Nikolai was not going to be easy, but as Zoya wrapped her arms around you in a hug and Tamar grabbed your hand, giving it a tight squeeze, you were grateful that you had the ones you held closest to help you through it all.

[goldenbloodytears]

If you feel up to it I have a lot of random questions that I would like to know about Danny and if you comfortable Sam.

The questions beeing 1, 2, 3, 12, 13, 16, 24, 27, 33, 37, 42, 43, 46 and 49. Please feel free to discard any if they are too many or spoil something.

-Mx. 👍

Canon I outright reject

Honestly... I don't actually think there's a lot about Danny's current canon as stated by BHVR that I reject--I think the closest is maybe the fact that he hates satire/parody... but that's not so much due to dislike rather than that I have trouble wrapping my head around it. Comedy and Horror are two sides of the same coin, and as a somebody who likes absurdist gallows humor I find it personally hard to wrap my head around.

2. Canon/Headcanon hill I will die on Bisexual Danny is the hill I will die on. If his sexuality were to be confirmed one day.... no it ain't! 3. Answered this one in another ask, see it here.

12. See above.

13. Dumbest thing they've ever done Falling in love with each other… otherwise Plot Spoilers :)

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves For Danny... I don't know if it's a secret exactly, but I genuinely think he is deeply alienated from the idea that when he was a child he likely wanted to be more than a killer. Sure, he was fascinated by his dad's war stories and drawn to horror... but I think if he could have a talk with his 8 year old self, little baby Danny would not say "Oh boy I can't wait to be a serial killer!" I don't think he's really prepared to face the concept, and as such, this sense of betrayal at how his life has gone is buried very deeply in his subconscious and it’s giving him stomach ulcers. For Sam, I honestly feel like it's a bit similar. She knows to some extent, but fights against the idea that she's a bit of the odd duck in her family. She doesn't know how to wrap her head around the concept of a mother who loves her and wants the best, but doesn't really like her or 'get' her. Slightly related, but the concept that she knows that she's failing spectacularly to look for people who genuinely appreciate her for her.

24. Most annoying habit

With Danny, I'm kinda tempted to say that he talks a lot... except I feel like he's got to be a decent listener to be of any use. I think his most annoying habit would genuinely be that he comes off like a blowhard who likes to hear himself talk when discussing something he knows a lot about. So it's not so much that he talks a lot all the time, but rather that he will steamroll you with info... which might come off as him thinking you're stupid.

Sam also tends to do this behaviour, and is the person who will "Well, actually" you when you say something wrong. The only difference from Danny is she's more likely to argue about it, where Danny is more likely to drop it and quietly seethe about the debate. Unlike Danny, she's not necessarily trying to prove a point (up until someone doubles down on being wrong) but rather that she likes sharing trivia.

27. their guilty pleasure I think Danny's guilty pleasure is getting to sleep :')

Sam's guilty pleasure is music. She's used up a lot of her paychecks on cassettes and cds. She also likes detective fiction, and as a child read the entire series of Nancy Drew detective novels (1930-1979).

33. something guaranteed to make them cry

For Danny? Honestly I think he's borderline an angry crier. He's got it on lock so as to not actually cry, but just general stress is enough to get him close. He very much will go into a bathroom and slash his face with water while trying to calm down (and probably thinking about violence while he does it). He's going to resist crying at a sad movie even if it kills him. Sam gets teary-eyed pretty easily too, but she's more open about it when in places where it's expected--like at a sad movie or a funeral. She very much cries at funding commercials for local pet shelters.

37. what they really think about themselves

Danny thinks he's great, pay no attention to the fragile ego hiding behind the curtain. Basically, where Danny's ego is wrapped up in attempting to hide his insecurities from himself and others, Sam's ego is somewhat wrapped up in tearing herself down. It kinda sucks for everyone around them if they're both in a depressive funk because they both need external feedback to counterbalance it.

42. three comfort items Danny: his vcr player, his pocket knife that belonged to his grandpa, his bug-out (escape) bag. Sam: Her walkman, her tape recorder, the original 56 hardcover novels of Nancy Drew with multiple dog-eared pages.

43. three favourite foods and three they despise Danny loves shepherd's pie, Texas sheet cake and coca-cola. He hates olives, beans and wieners (together), and blueberries.

Sam loves cheesecake, hot dogs and poutine, and will devour les oreilles de crisse like no tomorrow. She hates ketchup chips, canned tuna and bananas that are either too ripe or not enough.

46. The person they most admire

Danny is drawn to men that remind him of his father aka very masculine archetypes. It’s hard to find someone who will outright replace his dad, it’s probably borderline impossible without a lot of therapy work… but he lowkey admires his boss at the paper, something he shares in common with Sam. O’Reilly just gives off big Irish dad energy, he can’t help it.

Sam lowkey thinks of O’Reilly as a father figure, not that she would admit to it. It helps that he was dating her aunt at one point, and said aunt was also the closest thing Sam had to fitting maternal figure.

49. Favourite toy as a child

I don’t actually have any real answer for this one at this point. I feel like I will have to do some more research into 1960s-70s children toys, it would be nice to have something a little more specific than “generic gendered child toy” bc they definitely had lots of those each.

For Sam, it’s maybe not her favourite toy in the sense she got to play with it a lot, but she has a porcelain doll that she’s kept into adulthood despite the fact it has a cracked and reglued face in a way that makes it look kinda wonky. It was a gift from her mom, which proceeded to get broken by her younger brother Robby, but when Joan went to throw it out Sam threw a fit instead… so the doll got repaired, but on the condition she’s now a display doll, which she proceeded to be for the next 20 years.

Thank you for the ask!!

[ayaansh-academy-pune]

Breaking Stereotypes: A Guide For Girls On Joining The Indian Army Post 10th

When it comes to careers these days, it’s pretty awesome to see that girls are

no longer sticking to those traditional roles, right? They’re out there

breaking stereotypes and stepping into fields that used to be all about

the guys. Take the Indian Army, for instance. It used to be seen as a

men-only club, but not anymore!

Now, if you’re a girl who’s got dreams of joining the Indian Army after

finishing 10th grade, this guide is your new best friend. We’re gonna

dive into all the important stuff like eligibility, what kind of cash you

can expect, what it takes physically, and how you can make the cut

in the selection process.

So, let’s get started and find out what it takes to make your mark

in the Indian Army!

Eligibility:

Age: To apply for the Indian Army after 10th grade, you should

be between 16.5 to 19.5 years old. However, this age limit may

vary for different entries, so check the specific requirements.

Educational Qualifications: After completing your 10th standard,

you can apply for various soldier and technician positions.

Salary: I wanted to chat with you about the salary in the Indian

Army. It’s pretty interesting how it works. You see, the pay you

get can actually vary quite a bit depending on your rank and

position. But here’s the good news – they make sure it’s

competitive, so you won’t be left feeling shortchanged.

But wait, there’s more! The Indian Army doesn’t just stop at a

decent paycheck. They offer some neat extras like opportunities

for promotions. That means as you grow in your career, you can

earn even more and climb up the ranks. And that’s not all – they’ve

got your back with additional benefits too, like healthcare and

housing. So, you’ll have your basics covered.

So, it’s not just about the salary; it’s about the whole package

that the Indian Army brings to the table. If you’re thinking about

joining up, it’s definitely something worth considering. Got any

more questions about it? I’m here to help!

Physical Requirements:

Height162 CMSAge17.5 to 23 years.NationalityIndianMarital StatusBachelorEducational QualificationClass 10th pass with 45% marks and 33% in each subject.Weightaccording to Army Medical standards.Chest Expansioncapable of chest expansion of 05cms

(a)1.6 Km Run

(b)(i) Upto 7 Min 30 Sec – Gp – I

(ii) Upto 8 Min – Gp – II

(c) Long Jump 10 Feet

(d) High Jump 3 Feet

The Indian Army requires its personnel to be physically fit. You’ll need

to pass the Physical Fitness Test (PFT), which includes running, push-ups,

and sit-ups. Regular exercise and a healthy lifestyle will be your best allies

in meeting these requirements.

Selection Process:

Online Application:

 Start by applying online through the official Indian Army website or

designated recruitment portals.

Written Exam:

 Depending on the role you’re applying for, you may need to take a written

exam. Prepare thoroughly and stay updated with the syllabus.

Physical Fitness Test:

As mentioned earlier, this test evaluates your physical capabilities. Practice

regularly and maintain a healthy diet.

Medical Examination:

You’ll undergo a medical examination to ensure you meet the required

health standards.

Personal Interview:

This step assesses your communication skills and personality traits

Merit List and Training:

If you clear all the stages, you’ll be placed on the merit list and subsequently

receive training.

 joining the Indian Army. It’s not your ordinary career choice; it’s more like

making a solemn promise to serve our nation. Can you imagine being a

part of something so significant? It’s not just a job; it’s an opportunity to

break those stereotypes and play a crucial role in defending and securing

our beloved country.

 You know, they’re all about dedication, discipline, and determination, and

here’s the cool part – they don’t care about your gender. So, if you’ve got

this dream of rocking that uniform and defending your nation’s honor,

don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Now, guess what? The best defense academy in Pune has got some mind-blowing

training programs and instructors who really know their stuff. So, if you’re

thinking about this, you’re in the right place. With the right mindset and

some solid preparation, you can totally break through those barriers and

make a name for yourself in the Indian Army.

Don’t hold back on your aspirations – embrace them! Work hard, and

let’s together shatter those stereotypes. You’ve got this!

For More Visit Our Site https://ayaansh.co.in/

[lostinlogan]

The difference between I wan't and I can

I fucked up again.

I know that I'm a highly capable individual. I've been given many gifts and for decades spent time training in the arts of capitalistic performance and enhancement. I'm good at this shit, But we're one week back into a high intensity job and I'm already feeling it. I was working like 35 hours a week, making a decent salary which many families in america survive on as a single person and that wasn't enough., like I didn't even really ask for this responsibility it was just thrusted upon me again, because, I can do the work.

But just because I can doesn't mean that I want to. Its been like a week of meetings and there have been problems and my only solution is to say, yes, i will take that on. Which is my fault as I'm not very good at drawing boundaries. There are tasks and projects where i know that i can do the work, but I just really don't want to. I REALLY don't want to. So I'm here again, stuck, head on the chopping block, under the gun stressed and getting snappy because I just don't have the emotional capacity to be doing this shit again.

Unfortunately one of those entrepreneur fucking alpha male youtubers got to me. there is this guy and he's like 22 and a self made millionaire or whatever but the video that stuck in my mind is one of somebody who thought that the guy was BS, until he *bought the course* because there's always a fucking course, and then he realized that the money was rel, the persona wasn't fake and that the guy was legit. The way that he became this alpha pussy slayer or whatever was just by like, rising and grinding every day. Like you know how on Saturday, you have like a hobby or something or a club and you just cant wait to get up and go to this thing and its like your motivation, it feels natural and you want to do this thing more than anything else, well his was like getting to this bread. and IDK i kinda want to get to this bread, maybe i should be more like him, So like for the past week or so every morning when i get up, I literally just think to myself, "Rise and Grind" but I sing it like the way Kylie sang to Stormi. And the problem is that it's working. I've been like getting up early, thinking and being intentional about my goals and actually achieving them. But then at the end of the day I just don't fucking care. I'm so over it and that's just a bad feeling. Feeling like you ran around all day, exerted all this extra effort but what your chasing is like some trivial shit. Feels bad man. IDK,

Maybe I just have gotten that first paycheck yet, but some shit is going to need to shake around here.

[fabricdragondesigns]

"If you’re an aspiring actor, and as my advice was good enough for a young Mcavoy I pray you’ll listen now. "When we were filming Pitch Black a producer came to give me a choice. They had a problem and needed to do a reshoot with me and a stuntie. The shoot thus far had been rough. The crew was exhausted. 6 day weeks are unsustainable. Mistakes happen when crews are tired and often on the 6th day. The crew couldn’t say “no” to another Saturday but I could. I asked when they needed a decision & went to speak with some crew. I made sure that they themselves were choosing —rest vs an overtime paycheck— I would not presume to know their needs and priorities. They chose safety and rest. “Safety First,” is after all, an oft heard refrain on any decent set with its priorities in check. I returned to the producer and told him I was too tired and didn’t want to work the Saturday. He looked at me for a few seconds. I was a good actor and a bad liar. He went to say something, nodded instead and rescheduled. We do a lot of things on sets that would otherwise be illegal. It can be thrilling. It’s a privilege. It should never cost a life. I was in my early 20’s when I was asked to make that decision ostensibly for me though realistically on behalf of many. Thankfully I live without regret. For 30 years I’ve been working with firearms consistently and never once referred to a firearm as a prop; it’s a deadly weapon. If you’re on a set that doesn’t provide weapons training & an armorer, I’d leave. If you see an actor put their finger on a trigger before action is called I’d step away, bring it to their attention and tell the AD & armorer a review is necessary. If an armorer is using live ammo on a set, leave, yet treat every “prop” as if it’s fully loaded & never point it at anyone. If anyone but the armorer tries to hand you a firearm, it’s a major red flag. There should be no middle man. Just you and your armorer make the exchange. Actors get infantilized on sets then criticized for childish behavior. I don’t care what number you are on the call sheet. Lead. From the back of the pack if you have to. No job nor career is worth a life. I have pulled stunts early in my career when I could tell they were dodgy. Your stunt double is there to make you look cool but they often do not feel empowered to speak up. Check in with them and use your voice. It’s not about heroism it’s about humanity and navigating frustrating and fateful hierarchies. Whenever I have weapons training and they ask if I’ve had experience with firearms, after 30 years I still say, “Yes, but assume I know nothing and teach me everything.” (I am repeatedly told by armorers and stunt departments that women are easier to train bc they do not think they know everything.) Beginners Mind will keep you humble and others safe. Film culture is unique. Our days are more 5-9 than 9-5. We work on a 24 hr clock and in TV and indie filmmaking, time is the enemy. We hurry up & wait right before we rush to complete the call sheet & before we lose light. We are carnie folk; the kids who didn’t fit in; rebels, outliers, misfits, neurodiverse arty farties. We are a circus that packs up & leaves once the film or series is “in the can” never to reassemble with the same people in the same way again. We experience little deaths in our hearts every time we wrap. Processing that grief & post shoot anticlimax is part of the gig after bonding closely with fellow wild ones hired to recreate some aspect of humanity,only to disperse and move on. We should never be grieving an actual crew member’s preventable death when playing make believe. Play requires the safety of a responsible container. The producers are in charge of that. They need to set up that container, nourish and maintain it with crystal clear communication.  They need to listen and actually care and follow through. They need to identify toxic behavior and address it head on. For too long people who consider themselves to be “non creatives,” have indulged toxic and unsafe behaviors because they think it goes with the territory of being arty and are terrified that if confronted, the artist will walk off and filming will stop. So in this tipping point moment and on this two-way street; actors, please, prioritize being good people before being a great artist. Put the crew first. Speak up. Cultivate an environment of verbal consent. I offer consent to male artists now and they are confused at first by the offer. Persist. You can always find something that a male actor does not like having done to his body. And once you establish that baseline, all the off-air scripts change; vulnerability is better understood.  Safety first. Because from safety, comes great play and beautiful art; delicious co-creation. If you create great art in spite of toxicity it’s a tenuous, unrepeatable, unsustainable and lonely phenomenon. So listen. Observe. Ask questions. Check in with the crew and make *them* cups of tea. Ask them how you make their jobs hard even though movie stars aren’t supposed to. I am devastated about Halyna.  Walking onto a set on Friday morning right after reading the news, I had to work yet again with firearms and a wobbly yet fiercely professional stunt department. We had a top armorer quite literally in the trenches with us. As I stepped onto the muddy set I turned to the armorer and said, “I’m so grateful you’re here.” I turned to the courageous and dutiful stunties, asked if they were ok and said, “If you see or feel something today that worries you, anything, and you speak up and are not heard, find me and I shall speak. *Loudly*” Relative safety and art should be mutually inclusive.  It’s where the secret sauce resides. It’s where true cinema magic is cultivated. The set is my home. If it’s yours too, treat it as you would, the safe haven it deserves to be— especially for those of us who never found a home anywhere else."— Claudia Black (@TheClaudiaBlack), Twitter

[shootybangbang]

The Upsides of Property Damage [Part 3/5]

Authored by @verai-marcel and @shootybangbang

[Ao3 link]

[Pairing]: Arthur Morgan/Reader

[Rating]: Mature

[Content Advisory]: light D/S undertones

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

———

“The fee for breaking my lease is the equivalent of three weeks’ paychecks, and is thus completely out of the question…”

… is the sentence you keep repeating to yourself over and over in your head as you browse new apartment listings. It’s been over a week since Morgan’s visit, and the initial shock of embarrassment still hasn’t worn off. I’m not seriously considering this, you tell yourself as you bookmark several listings. This is just… in case. Yeah.

In the meantime, you’ve decided to follow Switzerland’s example and embrace isolationism. Almost all tasks that need to be done outside the apartment (grocery shopping, fast food, social interaction) have been successfully outsourced to third parties (instacart, an embarrassing amount of doordash, zoom). All tasks save laundry, you consider glumly as you lay out your last clean clothes on your bed.

A cocktail dress. A wine-stained crop top. The most indecent pair of shorts you own. There is no choice here that will allow you to maintain your dignity.

***

When you spot Morgan in the laundry room, knelt in front of a broken washing machine, your first instinct is to turn tail and leave. He’s not seen you yet, absorbed as he is with mechanical surgery, so it’s still entirely possible to run downstairs and pretend that this never happened.

“Wait a second,” Morgan calls out. He doesn’t look up from his work. “Just gimme ten minutes and I’ll be done here.”

You glance doubtfully at the viscera of tubes and wires surrounding him from behind the drum of the machine. From your perspective, this looks like it’d take hours to reassemble. As you silently partake in the age-old tradition of “make terrible judgments on things I know nothing about”, Morgan turns his head. He glances at your cocktail dress, then stifles a laugh. “D’you always dress up fer laundry day?”

“Yeah.” You shoot him a withering glare. “Every laundry day I put on my Sunday best to fight other tenants for the privilege of washing my clothes.”

He gestures towards the remaining three machines. Each one rumbles industriously as it rinses your neighbors’ clothes with soapy water. Someone’s red thong is plastered against one of the tiny porthole windows like a miniature flag of conquest. “Doesn’t seem to have done you much good today.”

“Okay, look.” You pinch the bridge of your nose and squeeze your eyes shut. “I’m too tired to keep this stupid joke going. I ran out of clean clothes, alright? It was either this or booty shorts and a crop top. And I felt like being decent today.”

His eyes rest for a moment on the high-cut slit that runs along your skirt. Then he shrugs and turns his attention back to the laundry machine.

You silently stand in the doorway for a few awkward seconds, then clear your throat. “So, uh… is that thing dead?”

“I’m doin’ fine actually, but I appreciate the concern,” he deadpans. Then he sighs. “Ain’t as bad as it looks. Should have this thing up and runnin’ soon if I can get the motor to cooperate."

"Ah well." You set your laundry basket against the wall and sit next to it. “Tell you the truth, I don’t have much else to do right now."

Morgan doesn’t reply. Perhaps he’s ignoring you. Perhaps he’s concentrating on his actual job. Either way, you’re relieved. Every second spent in silence is a second spent not discussing your humiliating last encounter.

You pull out your phone and begin scrolling through your newsfeed. As you sift through a sea of Twitter notifications and ads, a book catches your eye. It’s the sequel to the erotica you’ve been reading. Defying Her Blue Collar Dom. The mechanic on the cover has the blond woman on his lap and is preparing to spank her. You immediately add it to your cart.

"Got a question for ya," Morgan says.

It is mathematically impossible for him to see your screen from his current vantage point. Your thumb automatically swipes the bookstore app shut anyway. “Go on,” you say.

“D’you smash mirrors for fun or something? Because we ain’t ever had a tenant have so much shit break in so short a time. Starting to think you might actually be cursed. That, or"—he pauses for emphasis—"maybe you’re breaking things on purpose."

"Why the hell would I do that? You think I enjoy living with broken appliances?"

“I dunno,” he says, shrugging. “Judgin’ from your readin’ material, you do seem to have a certain fondness for ‘blue collar doms’.”

Your face burns. “I already told you– that was my friend’s book.”

“Or maybe you just enjoy my company,” he teases.

“I thought your implication was that I specifically enjoy the attention of blue collar doms,” you reply drily.

Morgan straightens up and wipes the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. “Like I said before,” he says. There is an insouciant little smile on his lips. “Maybe you just enjoy my company.”

The words you’d like to say are: What the fuck do you mean by that and also is that an invitation.

But the only part of that statement you’re able to force out is a weak, strangled “what”.

He pats the machine. “Should be working fine now,” he says. “See ya.”

***

“You seen what 502 was wearin’ today?”

As John and Arthur rest at their dilapidated desks, Micah leans against the wall and nurses a Mountain Dew, smirking in an attempt to get a rise out of him. Arthur says nothing, but ponders idly what sort of crunch the man’s nose might make if smashed in with a brick. It’s a train of thought he’s found himself indulging in frequently for the past month. Which, coincidentally, marks about the same time Micah had started talking about you.

Almost definitely a slut, had been his first assessment. Anyone who dresses like that probably gets it on the regular.

You’d been wearing a halter top and jeans.

Then he’d said something along the lines of, Another ticket? Anyone who submits this many is obviously trying to get fucked by the maintenance man.

You’d spent the duration of the ticket in question watching a documentary about snails.

Micah then followed up with, how much do you think she’d charge me for a blowjob?

Arthur had punched him for that one.

“Li’l flowery shorts and a red strip of cloth, tryin’ to pass that off as a tank top.” Micah hums now. “Oh, she’s definitely beggin’ for it.”

Arthur glances at the crowbar propped innocently against the wall. It leans there with its fellows: a long-handled hammer, an adjustable spanner, a tire iron– all excellent implements with which to break Micah’s kneecaps. Which is an act that, while undoubtedly very cathartic, would not at all be conducive to continued employment. He diverts the violent impulse instead to the computer’s F5 key, and mashes it repeatedly to refresh the ticket queue.

John, sitting with his feet on his desk, flips through a dated issue of Sports Illustrated. Without lifting his eyes from the page, he says, “If I were you, I’d shut up now, Bell.”

Micah ignores the warning. “Does she make eyes at you, Morgan?” he sneers. His own eyes gleam like those of a viper. “Yeah, I bet she does. I bet she stares you up and down every time she calls you over, then plays coy. Pretends like she don’t know what she’s doin’, when really all she is is a bitch in heat.”

Arthur mashes F5 even faster.

Taking his silence as a yes, Micah mimics surprise, then speaks to him with a layer of faux pity in his voice so thick that it’d drip to the floor in fat, greasy droplets were it corporeal. “Aw, don’t tell me. You thought you were special, didn’t you? Naw, that little whore puts herself out like a piece of meat for everyone. Half the goddamn building’s had her, including yours truly–”

At this, Arthur slams his hand against the table so hard that the pens scattered on its surface shiver as though frightened. He abruptly stands up, and the metal folding chair shrieks with displeasure as its legs skid over the cement floor.

“Tough guy, huh?” Micah jeers. “What you gonna do? You gonna hit me again?”

Break your skinny little rat neck, more like, Arthur thinks to himself.

It’s difficult to picture someone who turns fifty shades of scarlet at just the hint of flirtation, deigning to give Micah even a wayward glance. The accusation is obviously and blatantly false. And yet a hot wash of rage branches through his veins with all the wretched reflexivity of his old brutality. It’s all rising back to the surface now, the reassurance of violence, the vicious gleam of pleasure so familiar that even now it spurs bodily instinct. He curls his hand into a fist and shifts his weight to his left side, then—

“Arthur!” John barks.

The sharp call of his name yanks him back to reality like a tether around the neck of a feral animal.

Micah’s grin is nausea-inducing. “What’s the matter, Morgan? I thought you were gonna punch me again. You lost your nerve? Go on. Do it.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “That is, if you wanna get fired. And who’ll look after your precious 502 then?”

The gentle ping of an incoming ticket cuts through the tension. A white rectangle flashes across the grime-speckled computer screen.

APT 502:

broken cabinet. sorry :’(

“Eh, leave it for tomorrow,” John says. The wrinkled pages of the magazine rustle like autumn leaves as he returns to his studious perusal of 2018 football stats. “Anything that comes this late in the day can wait.”

“Nah,” Arthur says. He quickly powers off the computer monitor. “It’s nothin’ big. I’ll take care of it.”

Micah catches a glimpse of the ticket before the monitor’s screen blinks to black. “502 this late in the day?” He leers. “No, I think you should stay put, Morgan. I’ll take this one. Show her what a real man—”

Arthur’s body moves automatically, as if there exists no possible resolution to the situation at hand than the simplicity of force. He grabs Micah by his shirt collar and slams him hard against the office’s cold concrete wall. “You don’t look at her,” he snarls. “You don’t touch her. Ever.”

Micah lets out a high-pitched, nervous laugh. “Oh, you’re screwed now, Morgan. Fighting on the clock?”

“Fightin’?” At long last, John looks up from his magazine. He calmly surveys the scene in front of him, then looks Micah in the eye. “I don’t see any fightin’ worth reportin’ here.”

Noticeably shaken, Micah looks back at Arthur, who narrows his eyes and says in a low, dangerous voice, “Just one, Micah. All it’s gonna take from her is one complaint for me to come break both your arms so fucking badly that you’ll never be able to use them again. Do you understand?”

When Micah doesn’t immediately respond, Arthur slams the man against the wall a second time, and repeats the question with a quiet, cold-blooded ire that carries the same threat as a finger against the trigger of a gun. “I said, do you understand?”

Micah nods frantically. “Good,” Arthur says. His previously pleasant, easygoing demeanor slips back in place with the immediacy of a flipped switch. He lets him go. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

Micah scrambles away, then stumbles to his locker. “Why would I want to touch that whore of yours, anyway?” he says contemptuously, retrieving his bag. “Get herpes just from looking at her, probably.”

There’s absolutely no reason to respond to this. These are the last desperate flailings of a man who’s lost, and carries the weight of that defeat deeply. As he goes to the timeclock and punches out, Micah shoots Arthur one last glare. “Go ahead and take this one. You can be her personal bitch.”

The door slams shut, and Arthur heaves a long, irritated sigh. He waits until he hears Micah stomping down the stairs, then picks up his toolbox, furtively checks his reflection in the window glass, and leaves.

[thefanficmonster]

Just Two Sad Roommates

Corpse Husband x Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: The power of medieval tavern music gets put to the test when Corpse’s roommate is having a rough day. SPOILER ALERT: it’s more powerful than anyone could assume.

Requested by Anon. You know who you are 😊😋 Wish I could tag you, I loved this idea so much and had such a fun time writing it. Hope you enjoy it just as much 🥰

The last twenty four hours haven’t been so great. 

Last night I had a huge fight with my boyfriend over his flirty messages with several girls. It was not just witty banter, it was way more and way more hurtful to me. He obviously denied it and defended himself, at least in the beginning of the argument. Then he took on the accusatory stance, pointing fingers at me for living with another guy. That had me absolutely fuming. Not only was his statement fabricated and literally made up on the spot, but he also used some seriously horrible insults for him. I was having non of it. Corpse is a really great roommate, sweet guy and overall amazing person. I haven’t once argued with him since we’ve started living together. We’re actually quite good friends. So hearing my asshole boyfriend call him all those names was more than enough to chase him out of the apartment. Thankfully, Corpse wasn’t home to hear all that. He rarely leaves the apartment but by some miracle this was the time he was absent.

Then this morning my mom called me to have a chat. It started off decently enough but it only remained that way for so long. It didn’t take her long to start criticizing each and every element of my existence. From my job, my boyfriend, my living arrangement, the career I’ve decided to pursue, the fact I moved to a different state, my paycheck that’s lower than her friend’s daughter’s...…..You get the point. 

Now I’m sitting here, contemplating what the two years I’ve been in a relationship with Marcus mean to me. I guess it is just like a phone call from my mother - starts off nice but slowly deteriorates. All things follow this pattern in my life, apparently. And just like the phone calls, I’ve considered ending things between me and him many times but never actually decided on it. Until now. The last part of this decision is executing it, which doesn’t look very promising. My thumbs are frozen, hovering over the keyboard.

I take a second to take a look at my life from a third person point of view, like an out of body experience. I am wrapped in a blanket, huddled on the couch like a burrito with a face. A really sad burrito with a face. I have a job where I work as much as three highly ranked workers and get paid a little over a secretary’s paycheck. I’m in a constant state of exhaustion and disinterest. I often forget I’m human and just assume I can live like a cactus - no food, no water. I have a boyfriend that’s cheating on me and most likely has been for quite some time now. And we’ve been dating for two fucking years. Man, that must be the longest cheat streak in history. Who knows with how many girls as well. And I still have trouble deciding weather to break up with him or not. Actually no, scratch that, I have already decided, but it feel so unnatural and so out of character that my body refuses to complete the task of delivering the final blow to the structure of this relationship which was already weak to begin with.

And it only got weaker when I started catching feelings for another guy. I know, I know, I’m a bad person for that, but I was never planning to act on those feelings. They have always just...lingered, loomed over me. They got stronger and stronger every time Marcus and I would fight, as though they were laughing at my mock of a relationship.

Speaking of laughter, I hear my roommate laughing in his recording room. I gave him the spare room for his recording equipment for a cheap add to his rent fee and it’s probably the second best decision I’ve ever made - first being picking him to be my roommate. He was among the first to reply to my online add and appeared the least sketchy over the phone. More hypnotizing if I’m honest. He could’ve told me he was a hitman and I wouldn’t have batted an eye, handing the keys to his room and the apartment without a second thought. All he had to do was keep talking. Again, SUE ME.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic!“ I drop my phone when all the strings inside me snap, releasing the sobs and tears I’ve been holding back for so long.

I bring my knees up to my chest, hiding my head in between them, desperately trying to shield myself from the plane crash that is my life at the moment. Crying makes me feel even sadder and more miserable but I have nothing left to do to get all the crap that’s piled up inside me out.

I’m on the verge of falling asleep, the tears have dried and the sobs have died somewhere in my chest, when I hear what sounds like music straight from Robin Hood’s time. 

Holy shit, I’ve lost it

I lift my head from in-between my knees, looking around the living room for the source of the jolly, lighthearted tune which despite all the heaviness of my self-loathing makes me feel like the main character in an medieval adventure. Wait...Holy crap, it’s that medieval adventure, Robin Hood-ass music I hear from Corpse’s room!

I whip around to face the entrance from to the hallway where I see an arm sticking out, holding a phone which is where the music is coming from. 

“Corpse?“ I call out to him in a questioning manner, shifting to a sitting position with my blanket kicked off of me and bunched up next to me.

“I can’t tell if you’re angry or sad...or both. Didn’t want to get attacked upon entering the room.“ I see the right side of his face peek out as well.

I break out into laughter, covering my mouth with one hand, “You’re such a dork.”

He takes this as a sign to come in, pausing the music as he does so. “What’s wrong?”

My laugh stops but a smile remains on my face as I look at him. He just has that effect on me. “A lot. What’s going on with you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, plopping down on the couch, “The usual, streaming Among Us. You should play with me and my friends some time.”

I scoff, “I can pull of a lie no problem. Maybe I really should.” I don’t actually consider it, it’s just funny to think about. 

I have never watched any of Corpse’s content. Not his scary story videos, not his streams, not his animated compilations. Just his songs. And let me tell you...they are hella good. One song and I was hooked.

“Hey, I have a question.“ I tilt my head to look at him, “What’s with you and your love for medieval adventure music?“

“Medieval tavern music, and it’s not really love.“ He shakes his head with this dopey grin that is just. so. adorable. “More like a coping mechanism. Tell me, did you feel less sad I played it for you?“

I stop and think for a second. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Point made.“ He declares, leaving me to nod in amusement. “Now, tell me what that ‘a lot’ is.“

So, I do. I tell him everything, from how my boyfriend is cheating on me to how my mother thinks I’m a complete failure. He listens carefully, paying close attention to everything I’m saying. I catch myself laughing a few times while I retell the recent upsetting events.

Must be that music.

“So, you broke up?“ He asks once I end my monologue with a sigh

I shake my head disappointedly, “Not yet. I still haven’t pulled the plug. I don’t know what to say.”

He holds out his hand to me, “May I be of assistance?”

I look at his hand then at him and contemplate for only a second before deciding ‘what the hell’ and handing over my phone after unlocking it. The screen displays my boyfriend’s chat so Corpse just types away what he has in mind. Before pressing ‘send’, he hands the phone back to me. “Proofread it.”

‘Dear Marcus, this is one of your girlfriends speaking. Yes, one of them. You think I’m not onto what you’re doing, you little shit? Well, to your dismay, I am. And so, I discontinue this relation between us. That word might have been too long for your IQ so let me rephrase: We are over. Finished. Hope your other girlfriends wake up too, unless they are already in the know, of course. Love, but really hate, Y/N‘

I was never aware this level of sass even existed.

I add a smiling emoji and send the message, sighing in relief. “I can check that off my to-do list now.”

We both lean back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. A moment of comfortable silence takes over, leaving us both wandering in our own heads.

“Hey, um, I wanted to do this when I first moved in, but then I met your boyfriend and I took the hint. Now that you’re single, would you want to...“ he sounds a bit uncertain but continues regardless, “It’s ridiculous cause I don’t really like the idea of going out, but maybe we could order take-out...“

“Are you circling around asking me on an at-home date?“ I am surprised by how unbothered I manage to sound while I’m squealing on the inside. It’s fascinating how quickly a person can flip someone’s day around. Turns out it wasn’t the music at all. It was him that had the positive effect on mine.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch his face turn red and have to contain my laughter. The grin can’t be tamed though, especially not when he says, “Yes.”

Internally squealing, I launch myself from the couch, standing up straight in front of him. “Thai. My usual order is on the sticky note on the fridge. But first,” I offer him my hand, “I need to find out if a person can even dance to that ridiculous music.” At his amusement, my grin widens, “May I have this dance?”

He laughs that adorable laugh of his I’ve only heard through the layer of a wooden door. It’s even cuter when there’s nothing between me and its source. The source is cute too, not gonna lie.

With a shake of his head which is most likely disbelief, he takes the hand I’ve offered him, saying: “And you call me a dork.” 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze

[imaginativeamateur]

[Shikamaru Nara X Reader] Planned

Requested by: @anonymous: Shikamaru asking the reader to move in with him

Pairing: Shikamaru Nara x gn!Reader

Note: Thank you for your request, anon. Seriously, I had troubles coming up with the title and plot for so long lol ;DD. I had a really fun time writing this (this is like I dunno maybe the 4th draft?). Enough rambling, enjoy reading!

Your appetite dissipated as soon as you saw the words written on the letter sent out to all renters at your complex, “To restore the facilities of our complex, the monthly rent, therefore, would increase by 15%.”

After the Fourth Shinobi War, you were in no good financial condition. Working for the Council, your paycheck for the next two months was upheld to recover the ruins of the village. You did not regret your decision to give up your salary to help Konoha, but you were unsure how you would even make it through this month.

The number ‘15%’ kept on repeating in your head. You had to hide this from Shikamaru of course, at least for now. He was already busy enough with paperwork, you could not bother him with your problem.

It had been four days of you hunting for a place to stay, yet it was all futile. You banged your head on the office desk after returning from lunch, sleep-deprived and hopeless. You had three more days before the landlord would literally kick you out of the complex, not a lot of time. You were so screwed.

After all your vain attempts, you were contemplating whether to actually tell Shikamaru about your housing issue or not. Maybe he could help you find a place with his position in the Council. You sighed, you decided to see how today would go first, maybe you would tell him eventually, soon.

Then you heard a familiar voice approaching your table. It was Shikamaru stopping by your department before making his way to the Hokage’s office, “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi,” you lifted your face and weakly grinned, “on your way to the Hokage?”

He nodded, “You want to go out for dinner tonight?”

“Sure,” you eagerly replied, momentarily forgot about your nagging burden, “I’ve been craving some noodles!”

Shikamaru smiled wide and smoothed your hair, “I’ll come get you at six.”

After he left, your energy was revived as you stretched your arms up above your head and started your afternoon shift. Then you noticed several colleagues snickering behind, “Y/N, you two look so cute together.”

You blushed, suddenly aware that the whole office witnessed your interaction. Another girl continued, “Why don’t you just ask him to let you move in? You guys have been dating for years!”

Biting your inner cheek, you instantly put down her suggestion with a feigned laugh, “I’ll be able to rent one before I’m kicked out. Besides, we are not that ready to live together, you know.” 

Moving with Shikamaru was an option that never crossed your mind. It was not because you did not love him nor the other way around. But it was just that living together would be on a whole new level of intimacy. And to be honest, you were quite reluctant if your boyfriend would think it was fine. You knew for a fact if you were to tell him about your residency situation, he would immediately pull you under his roof, but it would be... forced. So you decided to wait.

You nodded to yourself, assuring that you would be okay. At least, you could stay at Ino’s for several days and cross your fingers that the blonde would not spill a word to your boyfriend, which was nearly impossible. Again, you sighed.

“How was your day?” Shikamaru questioned after you finished your last slurp of noodles.

“Not so tiring,” wiping the corner of your lips with a tissue, you automatically replied, “I’ve contacted an agency already and I’m going to go see their place tomorrow to see what they have to offer... oh...” 

Oh. You blinked, your mouth was faster than your brain. Great.

You hesitantly glanced at him, trying to find an appropriate reason to cover your mistake, “I meant I scheduled a meeting to see the housing choices that they offer.” The more you talked, the quieter you became, stuttering between your words, “It’s not like I’m going to get kicked out soon, no, actually, I just wanted to move to somewhere... ugh... closer to you? Yeah, I wanted to live closer to your place.”

You gulped, hoping that was a decent scapegoat even though you were sure he saw through your lie in an instant.

“Why do you need to live closer to me when you can live with me instead?”

“What?” You were totally bewildered when the words passed his lips, nearly choking on your water, “Did I hear you wrong?”

“I want you to move in with me, Y/N.”

You lowered your head and stared at your hands under the table, they suddenly felt so small, “Are you sure?”

“Do you think I’m not being serious?” Shikamaru took your hands in his, finger pads grazing across your skin.

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just, living together is really... complicated.”

“I've been wanting to tell you this,” he straightened his back and cleared his throat. “Tonight, I, Shikamaru Nara, will take Y/N under his roof, vowing to provide Y/N with an abundance of necessities, including clothes, foods, drinks, free access to a double-sized bed and a bathtub with hot water available at anytime, a perfectly safe shelter and a an intelligent man.” Kami knew he had been practicing the same lines for days not to cringe at the last few words.

You hugged your stomach, laughing at his testament but there were waves of unnamed happiness fluttering deep down, “Why do you sound like a real estate agent trying to lure me to sign a rental contract? And what’s up with the last term?”

He smiled seeing that you had released all the tension he saw in the afternoon, “If you’re still not satisfied, we can amend the contract when you’re officially moved in. By the way, it’s rent-free, you don’t have to worry about any 15% raise.”

Your eyes immediately narrowed as realization dawned upon you, “You knew about the 15% raise?”

He shrugged, “So are you signing the contract?”

Biting your lips, you growled, “So you did know about my struggle for the last few days, huh? And you probably planned this, too! Shikamaru, I swear I w—um...”

Shikamaru quickly pulled you in and captured your lips, “Be quick, I don’t have a lot of patience, dear customer.”

He smirked, his plan finally worked. The truth was he wanted to ask you to move in with him even before the war started but unfortunately, he did not get a chance to do so. After his eyes happened to skim across the budget allocation and saw the name of your complex on the list one week ago with a mention of a 15% raise to restore the infrastructures, a bulb lit in his head. You were not wrong, it was indeed, very well-planned.

You melted in his arms, already decided to say yes but refused to give up on the outside, “When did you know about the raise?”

“You should know I oversee a majority of the budget here, especially during this period.” He deadpanned, “Besides, it doesn’t matter because you have officially signed the contract. You used one of the services.”

“What? I have never said so and I didn’t use any of your services!”

He pointed at his lips, “Do you still remember the last term?”

“That doesn’t count! You took advantage of me!” Your face reddened in embarrassment, shoving him away with a huff, “And why didn’t you tell me anything?”

Shikamaru retreated, scratching his head, “I had to prepare everything before I take you home, sorry for taking so long. I want to make the experience perfect.”

Your eyes softened, “So I guess I can’t no longer back off anymore, yeah?”

A look of confident spread across his features, “And one more thing, if you want to cancel the contract or withdraw or anything, you will be spending the rest of your life stuck, with, me.”

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

Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu​ @thenightfallingstar​

[zephfair]

Drive me crazy

Sometimes you just want to stick your favorite blorbos into a fluffy situation and make them have fun. This is 4,800 words of fluff, comedy and cars. And ice cream. Adam/Ronan. Rated T for language? And driving crimes.

Adam stared into the distance, the notes from his morning’s online philosophy class running through his mind, when Mike bumped into him, hard.

“That is so creepy, bro.”

Adam came back to himself long enough to ask, “What?”

“You. When you do that thing.” Mike stood up straight and made his face empty, trying to copy Adam’s thousand-yard stare over the car lot. But he only succeeded in making Adam hope he didn’t actually look that much like last week’s dead fish in a supermarket display.

“Thanks,” Adam said as dryly as possible.

“I mean, you can stand here all day and just stare. Like, what are you looking at? What do you see?”

“The vast expanse of time and space. The future, the past, and all the tortuous present,” Adam said in a hollow voice that made Mike give a little shiver. Then Adam smirked evilly, “Of course, if you’d just let us get on our cell phones while we’re waiting for customers, you wouldn’t have to watch me staring into the abyss.”

“Ugh, sorry, man, it’s corporate policy. I know we’re not exactly busy all the time, but we can’t let our sales associates be on their phones if a customer does roll in. Corporate says it makes us look unapproachable.”

“We’re car salesmen. We have the well-deserved reputation of being anything but unapproachable. We’re literally graded on how fast we approach the poor customer.”

“I know, I know. Just, continue staring,” Mike said with a grand gesture toward the lot and the busy road beyond. “Or, come in and shoot the shit with us.”

Adam shook his head. “I’m not trying to be anti-social—”

“You are absolutely anti-social. We all know it. Enjoy your little patch of shade all alone.” Mike clapped his shoulder and turned to head back into the dealership’s air conditioned showrooms.

“All men are all alone,” Adam intoned and Mike shot him a look that made Adam smirk a little again.

The conversation did make him change position a bit, leaning more of his weight on his right side for a while. This wasn’t his idea of a great job, by any means, but it was a steady paycheck over the summer with a chance of even more decent commission, and he could still take a couple online summer gen-ed credits. Plus, it was kind of nice to be on the outside of the cars for once without getting grease and oil stains under his fingernails.

The biggest problem was just the boredom of standing around and waiting for a customer to decide that today, of all days, was the day to stop and shop—and hopefully purchase—a brand new car.

Adam had just started reviewing what he could remember about the difference between Socratic and Platonic knowledge for the next morning when the screech of brakes made him twitch.

He didn’t bother turning his head; the four-lane street that ran along one side of the dealership had a grass median separating north and southbound traffic, but there was an opening right there where fool-hardy drivers who missed the turn at the light at the end of the block could make an illegal and highly dangerous U-turn. It happened once every couple days, and while he’d yet to see a crash, there was usually a lot of horns honking and cursing from open car windows.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a sleek shape take an illegal U-turn at the light and come back down then turn immediately into the opening and speed just in front of oncoming traffic. But instead of racing back south, it careened into the dealership and screeched to a stop with its front bumper about a foot away from Adam’s hip.

He looked down at the shiny bumper then up at the driver’s side of the windshield, but thanks to the sun’s glare he couldn’t see the driver. He did add his own glare to the sun’s.  

It didn’t matter that it was a really nice car, an older BMW that looked like it’d been lovingly maintained, despite the obvious wear and tear on its poor brakes. Despite its age, it was a much better car than anything on the lot Adam was trying to sell. It was a classic, well-built luxury car and would easily get more than a hundred thousand miles on it, something that the midsize sedans and sport vehicles would struggle to survive.

The door popped open and a man popped up slinging one arm over the door.

Adam kept his expression at thoroughly unimpressed even while his eyes cataloged shaved head, sharp features, nice arm and tattoo visible at the top of his shoulders exposed by a plain black tank top. The guy’s mirrored aviator shades reflected back how completely indifferent Adam was to this obvious menace even though he was definitely attractive in an arrogant douchebag way. Definitely not Adam’s type. At all.

Adam finally said, “What can I help you with today? Sir.”

“Saw something I liked, had to stop.” The guy took off his sunglasses and hung them from the front of his tank.

“Ah. So what are you interested in?”

The ice-blue eyes raked up and down Adam’s body, and the guy actually licked his lips but probably didn’t even know he was doing it, Adam thought. When BMW-guy didn’t answer Adam prodded, “Are you in the market for a compact car? Minivan? SUV? Pickup?”

The look the guy gave Adam was pure affront as though Adam had just insulted his mother. “Do I look like a minivan driver to you?”

“Perhaps you need one for all your many, many children?” Adam suggested with a little smile.

The guy swore under his breath and slammed his door shut. Adam got a good look at his tapered waist, long legs that went on forever in artistically ripped jeans, and boots that added to his impressive height. When he crossed his arms over his chest, Adam made sure to maintain eye contact and only check out his biceps and pecs from his peripheral vision.

“Did you have something special in mind or are you just looking today?” Adam tried to rein himself in, get back on his script.

“I am looking for something special,” the guy allowed and stepped closer to Adam, who suddenly remembered one of the finer points of his customer service training.

He stuck out his hand and said, “I’m Adam Parrish, and I’d be happy to help you out today with whatever you need.”

The guy eyeballed him, raised an eyebrow, then looked down at Adam’s hand like he had no idea what to do with it. He finally took it in a tight grip and gave it a perfunctory shake. “Lynch. You always this happy to help out a customer with whatever he needs?”

“Only when the customer needs special help and attention. You look like you do,” Adam said sweetly. “So what would you like to look at today?”

“One of those, over there,” Lynch gestured to the farthest side of the lot, a block away, where the compact cars were. Adam rolled his eyes when Lynch couldn’t see.

“Certainly, sir. I’d be happy to show you all the amenities that come with our smallest but most economical models. Although, you may have some trouble fitting yourself comfortably into one.”

Lynch scoffed and put his sunglasses back on. “Show me anyway.”

Adam led him across the lot, Lynch walking closer than strictly comfortable with a stranger, his bare arm brushing against Adam’s from time to time. Adam had a moment of embarrassment as he pictured himself in the uniform of khaki slacks and baby blue polo shirt which was only a step up from Gansey’s norm because it was a pastel and instead of a logo there was the company name on the breast.

As they ambled across the lot under the boiling sun, Adam pointed out various models, describing what made them desirable or special. He stopped Lynch a couple times with a hand on his bicep to show him a particular vehicle’s features.

Lynch only grunted once or twice, but he didn’t pull away. So Adam double-downed. He stopped at a pickup truck and gestured toward the special scratch-resistant bedliner and when Lynch spared it a brief glance, Adam spread his hand on the middle of Lynch’s back and leaned close to his ear, “Take a good look at that bed. It’s really something special.”

Lynch’s back stiffened for a second then he straightened and smirked at Adam. “It’s not how special the bed is, but what you put in it,” he said.

Adam thought maybe this guy was finally picking up what he was putting down.

But Lynch didn’t show any more interest until they’d walked the length of the lot and Adam stopped him by a tiny hatchback. “This is one of our bestsellers for fuel economy. It has a 1.4 liter, four-cylinder engine with a manual or variable transmission. That’s nothing like what your Beemer is packing under the hood. Are you interested in trading it in towards a new vehicle?”

“Fuck no,” Lynch snarled, crossing his arms over his chest again and probably glaring at Adam and the car in equal measure.

“Okay,” Adam said in a reasonable tone. “Do you know what kind of engine you’d prefer?” And he went on to list what was offered in that model.

Lynch seemed entirely disinterested in even looking under a hood. Adam had to stop himself from sighing. He’d seen this more than once, and always with men for some reason. He’d read horror stories by women who’d had terrible treatment at car dealerships when they’d shopped, being shown the interior options like mirrors and cupholders instead of talking about the engine capacity and mileage.

Adam was always twice as nice to women customers, but he was pleasantly surprised at first because they were far and away more prepared for car shopping than the men. Maybe they felt like they had something to prove, but he had enjoyed one afternoon of discussing exhaust output, transmissions, and the company’s history of braking problems with one woman while her husband wandered the lot and picked out one to test drive because it had gray leather seats.

That had led to a sale. Adam was pretty sure this conversation wouldn’t.

“May I ask what, exactly, you do? What will you be using the car for?” Adam asked.

“I have a farm,” was all Lynch said.

“Are you looking for something that you can transport livestock or feed in?”

“No,” was the short answer.

Adam waited for the long answer but it never came.

“Well, then let me show you this model,” Adam said, slapping the roof of a nearby small SUV. “You can fit so many chickens inside this one.”

That made Lynch actually take off his sunglasses to glare at Adam.

“The defibrillator is also super-powered so you’re looking at a load more torque and drive-train power through the chassis.”

Lynch squinted at him. “It sounds like you know what you’re talking about,” he said suspiciously, clearly confused a little by Adam’s gibberish but not knowing enough to dispute him.

Adam smirked. This guy obviously didn’t know anything about cars.

Lynch was casting an angry glance around the whole lot so it surprised Adam when he said, “I want to drive one.”

“Sure, you can take a test drive,” Adam recovered quickly. “Which one would you like to try?”

“You’d have to go with me, right?”

“Yes, that’s our corporate policy.”

Lynch nodded and met Adam’s eyes. “Then let’s go for a ride.”

“Which one are you interested in taking out?”

This time, there was no mistaking the way Lynch’s eyes went up and down Adam’s body and the way he bit his own bottom lip when he focused on Adam’s mouth. Adam gulped. “If you could pick one to drive,” Lynch asked slowly, “which one would it be?”

Adam had to clear his throat before he could say, “Follow me.”

He led Lynch much more quickly back to the front of the dealership but had to stop when they spotted Mike and two of the other salesmen admiring Lynch’s BMW.

“What a beauty! They don’t make them like this anymore,” Mike said excitedly. “Are you going to trade it in? I’d be happy to make you an offer.”

“Fuck no,” Lynch repeated, and Adam had to hold in a snicker at the offense Lynch put into those two little words as if Mike had asked to purchase one of his kidneys.

“Well, if you’re ever interested in selling it, please, let me know. I could give you top dollar in a trade or even just buy it outright.” Mike patted the hood gently and Lynch bared his teeth like he was a second away from biting Mike’s hand off.

“Actually, Mike, Lynch here is looking to take a test drive of a sportier model.”

“Oh, great, which one takes your fancy?”

Lynch looked to Adam in bewilderment, but Adam just smirked. “He wants to take the Princess out.”

“Oh wow,” Mike said reverently.

They’d nicknamed the car the Princess because it was the top-of-the-line sports model the company made. And it had every deluxe package offered, with all the crazy little extras that the company overcharged for, so it was far and away the most expensive car on the lot. They actually had three of the sports model on the lot, but only the Princess was so overloaded with extras. Plus, it was a convertible.

“Isn’t that right, Lynch?” Adam nudged his elbow into Lynch’s ribs.

Lynch jolted. “Yeah, that one.”

“Wow,” Mike said again, “okay, uh, sure. We don’t usually allow test drives of that model right away because of liability and, uh, other issues.”

“He means, they don’t let anyone waltz in and drive it unless they prove they can actually afford to buy it,” Adam said bluntly.

Lynch raised an eyebrow as though amused with the dare. “You want to talk to my bank? If I wanted to, I could pay cash for it today.”

“Oh, I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Mike said, all but wringing his hands. “I’ll just need your, uh, driver’s license and insurance card. And if you don’t mind terribly, I really should run a credit check on you. It’s just corporate policy, you know?”

Lynch didn’t answer, just got into the BMW and rummaged around the glove compartment until he came up with the paperwork that satisfied Mike.

“Thank you, Mr. Lynch. Now, if you want to wait at the Princess, Adam can tell you all about her while I go make copies of these.”

Adam watched Mike all but bow at Lynch before scurrying off to the office. Lynch looked at Adam blankly, but followed when Adam tilted his head in the general direction.

The convertible was bright cherry red, of course, and the top was down to show off its perks. Mike carefully pulled it out from the secure garage every morning when the weather was fine, and made sure to take it back in if there was even a hint of rain in the forecast.

Adam gestured with a flourish. “Meet the Princess.”

Lynch trailed his fingers over the convertible as he slowly circled it. “Why the hell’s it called the Princess?”

“Because it’s pretty, all dolled-up, and has some very sexy curves,” Adam replied promptly.

Lynch snorted and pulled his hand back. “I’m not into dolled-up and sexy curves,” he said bluntly. Then he gazed at Adam from underneath his thick black lashes and said quietly, “I’m not against pretty though.”

Adam’s stomach, and something lower, clenched. “Well, you can still have fun with her, on a strictly friendly level.”

“It looks like a toy.”

“It’s speedy and handles well. That should feel like fun, even if it looks like a toy.”

“Let’s take it out,” Lynch said and put on his sunglasses with a savage grin as Mike hurried over to them. He all but thrust the key into Lynch’s hand and gave Adam a discreet thumbs-up and a grin as he slapped a plate on the Princess’ rump.

While Lynch climbed behind the wheel, Mike gave him a run-down of the car’s controls which Adam should’ve probably already covered. Instead, he just got in the passenger’s side and made sure his seat belt was secure.

“Well, you’re all ready, Mr. Lynch. Listen to that engine purr,” Mike enthused when he finally let Lynch start the car. “Take her for a spin and see what you think. I’m sure you’ll agree that she’s a beauty.”

“I’m only into handsome,” Lynch said and took off with a little squeal of tires.

Adam looked back at Mike as Lynch pulled right onto the street and waved, but Mike was soon just a dot behind them. Lynch had to stop at the next red light, so Adam took the opportunity to say, “Normally I take people down here so they can get a feel for city traffic. Then we can jump on the interstate so you can let her loose a little before we get off the next exit and circle back.”

“Sure,” was all Lynch said.

Adam settled back and grinned, letting the hot sun melt him into the leather seat. Lynch handled the car with all the precision Adam would’ve guessed from his driving the BMW, weaving them through the busy four lanes of the city’s shopping district, then taking the interstate on-ramp at speed.

As the car accelerated with grace and ease, the wind hitting Adam felt good enough to make him forget the Virginian humidity. He relaxed as Lynch blew past other vehicles, their speed edging ever upward as he ruled the left lane. Adam’s yell about the upcoming exit was ignored, and he shut his mouth before he could swallow a bug.

He just let Lynch drive, going past one then two more exits until they were well into rural territory. Lynch had settled back into his seat, left hand on the wheel, right hand resting on the gear shift. Adam flicked his eyes between watching his profile and the blur of greenery as they sped past.

“Handles great, doesn’t it?” he finally yelled.

Lynch shrugged.

“It’s nice to feel the wind in your hair,” Adam shouted.

That made Lynch look over at him. Adam was sure he and his bald head weren’t amused.

Lynch turned his attention back to the road to zip around a tractor-trailer, and Adam idly wondered how many people had ever gotten arrested or at least a speeding ticket while on a test drive.

He studied Lynch, his devastatingly handsome face and body along with his handling of the car were a really terrible combination for Adam’s appreciation of hot guys, hot cars, and a mile-wide competency kink.

Lynch looked over with a smirk as though he could hear Adam’s thoughts. Adam just shut his eyes and smiled into the sun and wind. Convertibles were really shit for comfort and mileage, but, by God, it was fun.

Then Lynch took the next exit without hitting the brakes, leaving Adam grabbing for an oh-shit handle that wasn’t there and instead clinging to the door. But Lynch handled the change in deceleration beautifully, didn’t have to yield to any oncoming traffic, and continued to barrel south now on a two-lane road.

Adam looked around in curiosity, never having had a reason to stop at the exit where there was a gas station and a few scattered houses. Lynch continued a mile or so until he pulled into a gravel parking lot and finally hit the brakes. Only it spun the car right into a tight circle until they skidded to a stop directly in front of the tiny local ice cream stand.

“Jesus shit, Ronan! Dammit, what were you thinking?!”

Ronan’s shoulders were up around his ears, but he tried to shrug nonchalantly. “The fucking brakes are weird.”

Adam swore again. “That’s because your dad didn’t dream up ABS for the BMW. I told you to watch how touchy they were.”

Ronan just hmmed, and Adam shook his head, looking around them to see two minivans parked on the other side of the small building, a gaggle of moms and small kids at picnic tables staring at them.

He looked back at Ronan in growing horror of what could have happened only to see Ronan take off his sunglasses and peer up at the ice cream stand’s menu board like he was calm.

“Their special flavor of the week is teaberry. You want a cone or a tub?”

“Did you seriously bring me out here for ice cream, Ronan?”

Ronan studiously avoided Adam’s flat look. “You want a banana split? Black cow?”

“No, I don’t.” But then Adam sighed. “I’m just really thankful you didn’t hit anybody, pulling that stunt.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Ronan admitted, finally glancing over at Adam. “I didn’t think the brakes would pulse like that. I thought I’d skid right in like the BMW does.”

“And I always bitch at you when you do that in the BMW too,” Adam reminded him. “You’re going to blow out a sidewall any day.”

“I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known there were kids here,” Ronan nodded his head toward the group.

“Well, we’re all okay. And the car’s okay. But seriously, we set up this whole test drive scenario and all you can think of to do is stop and get ice cream? I thought we were going to find a quiet place to make out or something.”

Ronan put his hand on his chest and gasped. “Really? You think I’d just pick up some random sexy car salesman then make out with him after an hour? What am I, a manwhore?”

“I’m not saying you take after Declan but…” Adam teased.

Ronan’s look was not impressed. “This was fun and all but if you’re expecting me to put out on the first day we meet, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Adam unhooked his seat belt and leaned over to put his face close to Ronan’s and his hand on Ronan’s on the wheel. “Yeah, but you got to take a fast car for a ride. You could at least give the salesman a little ride too.”

“I don’t wanna take a fast guy for a ride. I like it long and slow and … uh, road trips…” Ronan trailed off when Adam nosed against his cheek and squeezed his hand.

“Think you lost control of your metaphor there. But I’m glad you’re not putting out for any guy you just met. It’s sweet.”

“I am not sweet.”

Adam touched his cheek and Ronan leaned into it, of course, and Adam kissed him gently. Then Ronan turned his body to get his hands around Adam’s face and he turned the kiss much deeper, licking into Adam’s mouth, tempting his tongue to come play.

So Adam had to move closer, one hand sliding up Ronan’s thigh, as the exhilaration and excitement of the day caught up to him, and they shared kisses sweeter than any ice cream.

Until a loud “Excuse me!” came from the direction of the picnic tables. Adam pulled off Ronan’s mouth long enough to glance over to where one of the mothers was standing and staring at them pointedly. When she met Adam’s eyes, she called out, “There are children here.”

“Well, we’re not going to be making any kids in here,” Ronan said, but thankfully not loud enough to carry. Adam had to snort back a laugh and squeezed his leg harder. That seemed counterproductive because Ronan pulled him back in for another kiss that carried on until Adam bit his bottom lip.

“We’d better stop before she calls the cops and reports us for public indecency. Or before Mike reports the car stolen.”

Ronan harrumphed and shot a dark look at the mother who was still watching them and glaring. Adam grabbed his wrist right before Ronan’s middle finger cleared the dashboard. Ronan sighed and surrendered.

“I really am getting ice cream. Tell me what you want before I get you the biggest tub of teaberry they have.”

Adam knew it wasn’t an empty threat and he grimaced at the thought of Pepto Bismol flavored ice cream, so he asked for a strawberry sundae with chocolate ice cream. Ronan nodded approvingly and returned from the order window with it and a hot caramel sundae with chocolate ice cream for himself, along with a soft pretzel to share. Adam made him return to the window for wads of paper napkins to make sure the car stayed spotless.

When the garbage had been dumped and a few more sticky kisses exchanged, Ronan murmured, “What are you going to tell them back at work?”

“Well, it depends. Do you wanna buy this little beauty?”

“No way. It’s nowhere near as good as my car.”

“You’re right. But it is nice,” Adam patted the dashboard lovingly then realized Ronan was looking at him strangely.

“Do you want it?” Ronan asked seriously.

Adam laughed. “No way in hell. I’m not near to having my mid-life crisis yet so I don’t need a showy convertible. It’s just nice.”

“Fine,” Ronan said, settling back in his seat, “so sorry, I’m not buying this toy.”

But Adam was still laughing, struck by a sudden thought. “That would really show them, though. You come in, take me for a drive, you buy the car, and then give it to me.”

Ronan smiled and joined in his laughter. “You gonna let me finally make you a sugar baby?”

“No,” Adam wiped at his watering eyes with a napkin, “because if I was looking for a sugar daddy, I would’ve taken Gansey up on it years ago.” And he burst out laughing again.

Ronan didn’t seem to think that was funny at all which only made Adam laugh harder.

“So, you going to tell them at your job that we’re actually going out?”

“Nah,” Adam tried to get himself under control again, “it’s more fun like this. You can come in again in a couple weeks, look around, maybe we can try out a SUV or minivan.”

“For all my kids and farm animals?”

“No, for the big, roomy back seats,” Adam leaned over and bit Ronan’s ear lobe making Ronan give a full body shudder. But it did put him instantly into a better mood.

“OK, deal. I’ll tell them you were a fine salesman but this car just doesn’t fit my farming lifestyle.”

“Good,” Adam sighed and leaned back to stretch his arms up until he felt a satisfied pop in his back. “And thanks for breaking up the monotony of my days on that car lot. Sometimes I feel like I’m going to put down roots right through the asphalt.”

“Anything for you,” Ronan said. “But next time, I’m coming up with the role play scenario.”

“I can barely wait,” Adam promised Ronan’s smirk that assured him it would be good. “Now. Let me drive back.”

“No! You can drive it whenever you want because you work there!”

“Yeah, and they know that with all the more they pay me that I’ll never be able to afford a car like this. So let me drive it back, and I’ll let you top tonight.”

Ronan pretended to consider it but he couldn’t shove the key at Adam fast enough. “I wouldn’t want you cheating on me with dolls and pretty princesses and curves anyway.”

“Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you need to tell yourself.” Then they scrambled over each other trying to exchange seats, and Adam nabbed Ronan’s sunglasses with a smirk as he settled behind the wheel. “Think I can beat your time getting back to the lot? Hold on to your hair, oops sorry, bad joke.”

Ronan was still grumbling when Adam pulled out, much more carefully than Ronan had entered. But it didn’t stop Ronan from twining his fingers through Adam’s on the gear shift or his loud whoop of happiness when Adam finally got it into fifth gear. Princess or not, it was a good day to spend with his very own Prince Charming.

*This is dedicated to the car salesman I watched standing there looking like that Ben Affleck picture only without the cigarette. He was no Adam Parrish though.

*One of the craziest things about writing in this fandom is allowing out the weird Appalachian vocabulary I grew up with and finally speaking the language of my foremothers. Bless.

*The author has only had one good car buying experience and it was with a young man about Adam’s age so this is dedicated to him too. Granted, they don’t usually make you give up your driver’s license when a salesperson rides with you and I’ve never had one ask for insurance but this is Ronan MF Lynch we’re talking about and no one is handing him the keys to a vehicle unless they have some proof that he actually has a license and insurance. And possibly enough money to cover for stealing and/or wrecking a sports car.

*So I’ve got two other fluffy comedies that I’ve been poking at for a while. Should I finish and post them? Does anyone else out there need some escapism and (hopefully) at least a sensible chuckle once in a while? Along with some kissing (and more 😉)?

[liddolwhynot2000]

Hey! So, I was wondering if I could get a levi x reader where the reader runs the tea shop levi goes to to get his tea and they slowly become friends before realizing they’ve fallen in love with eachother?

Aiii one of my first fic supporters ⭐ I'm so sorry for answering this so late. But I got you.

Here we goo. I hope it lives up to your expectations! @dove-music

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Apricity

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Summary:

After all, Levi had gotten into a relationship.

With a woman who baked cookies and drew his face on them for fun.

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Pairings: Levi/Reader

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Genre: fluff, romance, Levi-does-not-know-romance, kinda funny

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If Levi had to pick any place in the world that gave made him feel something akin to contentment, it would be the little tea shop that was a 10 minute walk from the Survey Corps.

It wasn't some big, fancy cafe, overcrowded with civilians and soldiers, like other establishments were. A small, cosy little shop in the corner of the street. The shop made good business, he could tell, with its modest furnishing and quality to tea.

He had stumbled upon it in a dire time of need- right after losing his beloved friends to titans. He had accepted that he would stay in the survey corps but he hadn't been willing to make friends at the time. He didn't want to get drunk with his fellow soldiers, or visit brothels. He had just wanted some quiet.

Levi had been walking along the street by himself, in the dark, when he had stumbled upon that cafe. It had been on a whim that he had decided to go inside and actually order something.

He would try to convince himself that it was a one time thing, that he was simply trying some of the luxuries the surface had to offer. But one time turned into two, two turned into ten and so on.

He was rewarding himself with good tea, Levi told himself, that was why he kept coming back. He fought titans for humanity, the least he could do was use his paycheck to buy himself a nice beverage every once in a while. It was treat to himself.

The sweet owner of the cafe had nothing to do with this. Nothing at all.

Yeah sure Levi nobody believes you

Shut up four eyes or else-

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'Sir, here you go.'

'.. I didn't order this.'

Levi looked at the plate set infront of him with indifference, although a part of him wondered if it would taste as good as it looked. It was a chocolate cake slice, with some sort of white cream on it.

'It's on the house sir.'

He looked at you, feeling bewildered at the sight of your smiling face. Was this sort of shit normal in the surface? Just giving each other food? There had to be some sort of catch right?

'.. What do you want?'

You blinked at him in confusion.

'Er- nothing sir. We sometimes give free meals to customers. You're the lucky customer this week.'

Levi felt compelled to ask one more time.

'So I owe you nothing for this?'

'Absolutely nothing.'

'Right... Thanks.'

There was no more clarification he could ask for, not when you had used that firm tone. You excused yourself and walked away, leaving Levi to his treat.

Huh. The people here weren't so bad after all.

Maybe he would come back to try some more dishes later.

It's not to see you again hell no stop it Hange- it's NOT-

____________________________________

He later finds out that you're the owner of the cafe. You could just hire help and let others manage the cafe, but you prefer handling it yourself. Levi can't help liking that- so many people would just sit on their asses, but you're actually working hard.

He doesn't get around to going to the cafe again until a month later. It's after a grueling expedition and he's beyond irritated with everyone. For some reason, they've started calling him 'humanity's strongest' and frankly, Levi finds it to be a dumb title.

Becuase even with all his strength, he hadn't been able to save everyone.

Wanting to get away from overeager comrades and a sugar high Hange (somebody give moblit a raise poor boi), Levi decides to head to the cafe.

Yet again, you're the one who welcomes him. He silently thanks you when you seat him in the corner of the shop, an area where hardly anyone would see him and he wouldn't have to see anyone else. You had perhaps understood from his uniform and exhausted face that he wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone, so you had hand him the menu and quietly tell him you'll be back in five minutes.

Once you get him his chosen tea, you also quietly leave a plate of another desert with it. This time, Levi doesn't bother asking questions. He nods at you gratefully before allowing himself to indulge in the delicacy infront of him.

He can't help but want to ask your name.

Aww Levi you drew a heart on that paper with her name on it-

No what the fuck YOU drew that four eyes-

___________________________________

He frequents the cafe at least twice a month for the next five years. It's become a tradition of sorts, going there after a tiresome mission, enjoying a meal made by you. You don't always let him have food for free of course, but it's often at a discounted rate. And as someone who has never enjoyed any privelege whatsoever in his entire life, he guards the special consideration you show him close to his heart.

The two of you don't interact much at the start, but Levi notices you. The way you give your workers decent time off, how you don't hesitate in offering monetary help or letting someone take the day off, even if it means you're overworked. He hasn't talked to you much, but he has a good opinion of you. He finds you fascinating, the first speck of kindness he's seen in his life, since Isabel and her desire to free a bird. Levi doesn't bother approaching you directly, because he doesn't even know what to say.

The two of you have a full interaction six months into his routine, the day Levi accidentally stays till its closing time. It had been good luck on your part--that when the drunk garrison soldiers had stumbled into your cafe will less then innocent intentions, Levi had been there to deal with them. As far as the garrisons were concerned, it had been the worst night of their lives. No amount of alcohol would ever be enough to make them forget what had happened.

Look at you, so protective of your woman even then-Levi where did you get that knife from--wait no - Erwin HELP-

He strikes a tentative friendship with you after that. You had been beyond thankful for his intervention, knowing you might not have made it out with your life if he hadn't been there. You made him cookies the next day, coming all the way to headquarters to give them to him.

Much to his despair, you meet his self proclaimed friend--Hange, and the two of you become friends too. He tries not to mind it, however, the day Hange flashes a cookie with what is clearly his frowning face drawn on it, he has to be held back by five soldiers from throwing Hange out the window. He marches to cafe, intending on letting out his ire at your insolence. But somehow, he doesn't tell you off like he had planned. Instead he finds himself asking you about your baking and art skills-even he would admit that the drawing of him had been spot on.

He does ban from making them again. You honoured it, until the two of you became good friends. Suddenly, every holiday involves at least one tray of grumpy Levi cookies. Even Erwin had enjoyed them, much to his exasperation. It had lead to his vow of never trying one.

They tasted amazing, I really think you should have tried them- OUCH that hurt shorty-

It doesn't take long till he finds himself purposefully visiting at closing time, knowing you'll just make yourself make a meal too, sit nearby and read a book. You engage him in conversation at times, telling him about the books you read. The two of you bond over food and fictional stories. He let's his walls down for you, little by little. You end up becoming the first person he let's in, his first friend, since the death of Isabel and Farlan.

Levi likes to think they would have liked you.

It's nice, spending time with you. You don't look at him like he's some God with all the solutions, like his comrades do. You aren't in some high risk career where he'd have to worry about you dying. You're stable and peaceful, exactly where you are.

Everytime he sets out for an expedition, he mentally prepares himself for not making it back without at least half his cormades. When it comes to you, his friend, he has no worries. You're safely tucked away in your cafe, out of reach from the titans grasp.

'friend' sure Levi, you write love letters for your friends.

Four eyes where the fuck did you get those from, give them back-

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It's a peaceful day, as evidenced by the birds chirping and general pleasant atmosphere. One could say the weather is perfect. Just the right amount of sunshine shining in the streets, children enjoying themselves, chasing each other.

Even Levi is in a good mood. Of course, his good mood is amplified by his current location. His favorite cafe.

He's sitting inside, but the windows are open, letting in fresh air. He has a nice cup of tea on the table, with a plate full of sandwiches. You were seated in front of him, drinking some tea so sweet he could smell it.

You're telling him about a book, how you've analysed its villainous characters. He enjoys listening to you, often finding your ability to guage complex characters with relative ease to be startling. It makes him trust you more, knowing that no matter how fucked up something occurs, you wouldn't take it at face value.

You wouldn't judge him like that.

The two of you are interrupted as the bell chimes and someone enters the cafe. It's a young man, maybe in his 20s. He's dressed well, a white shirt with a brown vest on top. You put down the book down and smile as you go to greet him.

Suddenly, Levi doesn't feel as peaceful as before. He keep his eyes to his tea but his ears are perked up as he listens to you chatter with the man.

'Hello. Its been a while eh?'

'It has. I've been in Wall Sina getting some work done. Finally finished it, those damn nobles ask us for way too much-'

The man places an order for a bag of biscuits, ones you had already made. You give him a discount, which Levi smugly notes isn't even half of what he gets, and he tells you he has to leave soon. Levi's relieved really, he doesn't know what he's feeling, but he knows he doesn't like him.

'.. Maybe next time, I could take you out on a date...'

Even though you gently reject the man, who takes it well, Levi can't stop frowning. Once you take your place in infront of him again and continue your explaination, he turns his attention back to you and tries to brush off that feeling in his gut.

But it doesn't work.

____________________________________

When Levi had been taken in under Kenny's (questionable) care, he had learned a lot of things from the man. How to hold a knife, how to break bones, make deals, the sex talk that Levi would like to never remember etc. Kenny had taught him plenty of life skills.

However, his methods had been crazy to say the least. More often then not, Levi found himself on the recieving end of sparring sessions where he was sent flying into trash cans and expected to get up and attack again. Kenny had been ruthless, but it had been for his own good. He wouldn't have survived that hell hole otherwise.

Levi recalled a specific moment in his early days of being with Kenny all too clearly. He hadn't fully understood why Kenny was making him train like this, and frankly, he had been exhausted being treated like a punching bag. In his anger, he had yelled at Kenny, half crying, about how his mother would never let him get hurt like this and how much he missed her.

Kenny had stared at him blankly for a minute once he had finished, and with the speed of lightning, the man had punched him in the stomach.

It had been extremely painful, taking his breath away. Kenny had then proceeded to beat him senseless--telling him what would happen if he wasn't strong enough with each blow.

He would always remember that pain for the rest of his life. Nothing had ever come close to it, or at least that's what he had thought.

But right now, sitting at his desk late at night, Levi feels like Kenny had punched him in the gut again. He was, yet again, experiencing a feeling he would never forget. It wasn't pain, but it's intensity was just the same.

Love.

..sittin in a tree, K I S S I N- AHHH

Section Commander, are you okay!? How did you fall down the stairs??

___________________________________

Levi and the rest of the soldiers had the night off, and while usually he was more inclined to simply stay away from their parties, he allowed his squad to drag him. It had, as expected, turned out to be a mistake. Everyone had been too drunk. Especially his squad.

When Olou began singing, Levi listened with mild amusement. His voice actually hadn't been too bad.

When Gunther and Eld began drunkenly trying to dance together to his singing, he might have actually smiled while drinking his beer.

When a very drunk Moblit collapsed next to him, muttering about that crazy four eyes, Levi decided to put his foot down and end the party. With Petra's help, he had carried Moblit to his room. The poor man had muttered the entire way there, mostly about Hange and Titans and needing therapy.

The punch in the gut, figuratively, had taken place on his way back to his room. Courtesy of Petra.

He hadn't noticed it, which had been stupid of him in hindsight. His ginger haired comrade had been harbouring feelings for him- feelings he knew he didn't return in the slightest. He had turned her down as gently as possible, not expecting her to loop her arms around his neck and beg him for one night together.

'... Please captain, just one night. If you still feel the same in the morning, I'll never bring this up again.'

Maybe in another universe, he would have said yes. After all, despite the age gap between them, Petra was rather beautiful. And any man would want to enjoy a night with her.

Alas, the moment she had looped her arms around him, his breath had suddenly left him, as though Kenny had punched him in the gut again.

He wasn't seeing his ginger haired cormade leaning into him, confessing her love to him. He was seeing you, your hair in that messy bun, that sweet smile, saying all those words. Practically begging him to make you his.

The moment Petra repeated her statement again, however, the vision fell apart and he pushed her away. After a firm rejection and some tears, he wandered back to his office, feeling dazed.

Sitting down in his chair, he had stared mindlessly, thinking about you.

You and your sweet words. Your obsession with reading. Those special discounts for him. That gentle smile. Even those absurd grumpy Levi cookies you baked.

Levi was a Capricorn--and capricorns were practical people. Rational. And in the interest of being practical, Levi decided to admit his feelings to himself. It would only drive him crazy if he didn't.

He was in love with you.

___________________________________

In his thirty something years of living, Levi had never been in an relationship. He had been too busy navigating the dark realms of the underground, trying to find enough food to eat. He hadn't cared for sex either, too traumatized by Kenny and his (shudder) talk. By the time he had gotten older and more stable, he had been so disgusted by the flithiness of the act, that he didn't even bother seeking out partners.

Which was why, here was, in love with a woman who probably deserved better then him, unable to do figure out what to do. Should he tell you? Or just keep it to himself? He wasn't sure if you felt the same, but the part of him that was in love with you knew he'd die happy if he held even the smallest part of your heart.

He was at a loss really. Maybe he could find a book about this crap.

Kenny's voice rung in his head for a few seconds, before Levi shut it off. He would rather die single then get a girl using Kenny's advice. He could do better then this. Maybe Erwin would have a book, there had to be somewhere the blonde bastard learned his charm from.

... You gotta be upfront kid. If you want her to be yours..

Levi wouldn't listen to Kenny. No. There was no way...

.. Don't beat around the bush brat, just tell her...

...he would do as Kenny had advised him to.

... Kill her if she doesn't like you back okay..

Okay that wasn't happening. Even if some of it sounded like it made sense, he still wouldn't do it like Kenny would.

No.

Freaking.

Way.

__________________________________

The next day, Levi silently wondered if his mentor was still alive. If he was, Levi resolved to stab him in a heartbeat. Because he just knew, that if Kenny could see him now, he would laugh his ass off.

After all, Levi had gotten into a relationship.

With a woman who baked cookies and drew his face on them for fun.

And it was all because he followed Kenny's advice.

Goddamit.

___________________________________

A/N: This ended up being longer then planned whew. My fingers were numb at some points, bc I wrote this in 3 straight hours. I hope y'all liked this! Am I the only who thinks grumpy Levi cookies would be amazing? I had to give Kenny a role in this, it was too tempting not to. Overall, I liked this one alot. I actually have a plan in mind involving this Levi and reader, which I'll hopefully write soon. Till then, take care everyone!

[mcyt-transcribed]

transcript of “where I've been”

TW for discussion of cancer and Covid-19

 Here’s the Google Doc link or you can click on the read more.

Techno: Yo, Technoblade here with another upload, oh my God I can’t believe it. We’re back, we’re playing Bedwars, uh, I don’t know why I said that in the present tense because I actually recorded these Bedwars games a few days ago. I have- I’ve played like, almost no Bedwars since the win streak, which was like, I dunno, years ago - so, you know, forgive me if I’m a little rusty. These are literally just the first three games of Bedwars I played, recorded them, and then just threw them in this background footage because, you know, I like live commentaries a lot, but I feel like sometimes, when you have a topic to talk about, having to play a video game simultaneously can sorta- it can sorta detract from the commentary, you know?

But before that: a plushie commercial filmed on my iPhone.

We got the first one - it’s Technoblade. He’s in a flying pose. He’s flying to save some civilians or he’s falling flat on his face. Depends on who you ask. Alright. We got the- We got Technoblade. He’s sitting down. He’s- He’s seated. He’s seated. It’s incredibly exciting. Uh, we got- we got Technoblade but he’s- he’s a giant- he’s a gigantic pillow. It’s Technopillow. This is actually- This is actually really- This is really soft. You’re gonna have to take my word for it.

These plushies go on sale on September 3rd at 3 PM EST at youtooz.com. The last ones sold out in around eight hours, so be prepared. I mean, one of them was like, two minutes but ehhh, it’s not happening again.

So where has Technoblade been? I know I’ve been gone since like, June. I was actually being really productive in July, which I know you guys are gonna- You’re not gonna believe me when I say that because I made no content. But I was! I was, you gotta believe me, okay? I was getting so much work done IRL; I was like, filling out paperwork, making business moves, working on merchandise, buying new equipment to make new videos. ‘Cause I really wanted- I really wanted to increase the rate at which I was making videos, ‘cause I kinda spent- You know, I kinda spent like, all this time becoming a famous YouTube and then instantly like, stopped uploading. Which, I mean, to be fair, I guess that started more in like 2018. So, that’s more just a pattern now.

 But I figured, you know, this whole thing where I go two- you know, one or two months without uploading- I don’t want that to be me, man. I wanna be uploading at least once per week. So I spent a lot of time preparing to do that. And the plan was that I would start doing that in August, but I took a- It didn’t- It’s, uh- It’s not going great, I’m not going to lie to you.

So in the last two days of July I noticed that my right arm was starting to hurt a decent amount and I thought- My best guess was that it was some kind of repetitive stress injury, ‘cause you know I’ve been playing video games since the age of like, five. It’s pretty much nonstop. I was gonna get carpal tunnel at some point but, uh, I took a few days to rest my arm and it really didn’t… really didn’t feel any better after that. And so after a few days of that, I looked at myself in the mirror and I noticed that my right shoulder was starting to swell like crazy and I was like, “Oh my God! I must’ve broken a bone, this is-” I mean, this- It looked- it looked crazy.

So, you know, the next day - August 2nd - I, uh, headed over to the doctor to see what was wrong and uh, they ran a couple of scans and then they came back and they told me that, uh, the reason my arm hurts is because I have cancer.

That really couldn’t have gone worse, I don’t think. I feel a bit silly talking about this with, uh, Minecraft in the background; it feels a bit out of place. But I’m a Minecraft YouTuber - I don’t- I don’t do a face cam. Which is I guess how most people would talk about serious things, with a face cam. I also probably, uh- *chuckles* Also probably a bit weird to plug my merchandise in the- in the same video, like, “Hey, guys, I have a- I have a terrible disease, also buy my plushies, bro.” But uh- *laughs* Listen: I’ve been waiting so many months to sell those plushies, bro. And it keeps getting delayed and now cancer thinks it can stop me. No no no no no. I’m trying to make some bank, bro. I wanna get paid, also they look fantastic, I mean just look at them, they look incredible. Alright?

I mean, I guess it would be ideal to like, split up the announcements, but I’m going back into chemotherapy next week; I don’t got time for this, man. We gotta go!

To be fair, I could make this a lot weirder; I could have like, the thumbnail be a giant red arrow pointing to my tumor with the caption “Might die! Not clickbait!” *laughs* Yeah, just the ultimate- the ultimate YouTuber, bro. We’re clickbaiting the whole process.

So after the scans come in, I get transferred to another hospital which has an oncology award, so it’s a lot more specialized towards what I need. And I’m sorta like sitting there in the bed for a couple of days like, “Hello. Could I please get some healthcare? Could I- Could I just get a- Could I just get a crumb of healthcare? Please! Like, I *stutters* I wanna see people sprinting, you know? I feel like I want to see some urgency, you know? If you guys gotta- *stammers* You know, there’s like, this tumor on my arm - if you guys could just- if you guys could just get rid of it. Just get rid of it right now! Could we just go? If you gotta cut off my arm, cut off my arm, bro - do what you gotta do. I won’t complain, man, I’ve won enough Minecraft tournaments. I’ll just play Minecraft with my feet from here on out, bro. I’ll still be B tier at least, okay? It’s fine. Do what you gotta do.”

But then the doctors are telling me, “Oh, well, we can’t- we can’t do it immediately. We gotta- We gotta find out what it is, we gotta run some tests, do a biopsy.” I’m like, “Okay, do the biopsy.” Like, “Oh, well first we gotta do some scans.” I’m like, “Alright, dude, the scans.” And so it took a couple of days and then they did a biopsy, uh, three days later. And then I was like, “Alright. Let’s go!” And they were like, “Oh, well, the biopsy is gonna take like, a week or more to get back.” And I’m just sitting here like, “Bruh, please. Please, just treat me.”

I mean, it makes sense. It makes a lot of sense and I’m sure they know what they’re doing, but I’m just sitting there in the hospital like, “Please. Please, healthcare.” So they get the biopsy and they send me home and they’re saying like, I’ll come back in like a week or so when they have a treatment plan prepared, and so I- It was a very fun week at home ‘cause I was sitting there still not getting treated and I was just like, looking at my tumor like, “Alright, Mr. Tumor. You know, you need me to survive so it’s in your best interest to just- to just chill out for a little bit, you know? We don’t wanna go too crazy.”

And faintly- Faintly if you strain your ears, underneath my skin you can hear:

[Dream’s speedrun music plays for a few seconds]

Techno: Yeah, it was a really fun week. But I did finally get started on chemotherapy, which is a wonderful process. Let me explain chemotherapy. So basically uh, you know how society has progressed for thousands of years of technological and medical innovation? So basically, one of the top three ways we have to fight cancer is uh, for you to go to the hospital and then they uh, plug you into a machine and then they inject poison directly into your veins for several days. That’s uh, that’s one of the best ways we’ve got of going about this and the poison- it’s supposed to kill the cancer - it uh, also kills things like, you know, blood. But ehhh, does anybody really need blood? I feel like it’s pretty optional, you know? Uh- *small laugh* Blood for the Blood God as it were, alright? Uh, I’ll take what I can get.

I, uh, you know, I used to have a channel meme- ‘cause back in the day- you know how my motivation always goes up and down in, like, cycles? I used to have a meme where whenever I’d get super motivated I’d, ya know, I’d start uploading, like crazy. I’d also do things like get a haircut. And, so, I joked that, uh, the less hair I had, the more I’d upload. ‘Cause that’s- the hair was holding me back. And so, if that’s still true, I gotta say, chemotherapy, that’s gotta be daily uploads or something, bro. *laughs* It’s gonna be- Chemotherapy Arc is gonna be fantastic for content.

Well, ya know, after I got diagnosed, I, uh, I’ve been making a lot of phone calls- ya know, informing all of my distant family members about the situation- and, I gotta say, of all the phone calls I’ve made, nobody took the news worse than my health insurance provider. They’ve been inconsolable for weeks. They were like, “You got what!? No!” 

I mean, I had no idea they cared so much. They’ve just- oh my God. I- I think they’re the real victims of this. I mean, could you imagine? Could you imagine? Like, look at me! I was a healthy twenty-two year old, I, like, barely went to the doctor, even for, like, regular appointments. I- I guess I went to the dentist, that’s the one thing I did. I was the freest paycheck they’ve ever seen in their lives. They could’ve been milking money off of me for decades. And then, bam, cancer, bro. *laughs* Oh, those poor guys. 

Uh, the one- the one favor I- I do wanna ask- If you guys could all do one small favor for Technoblade- uh, you know that coronavirus thing you been hearing in the news for the last couple of years? Uh, I want you guys to get rid of it. Just, uh, I want it gone. Just a couple days should be sufficient for you guys to do that.

No, but, seriously. I’m kind of, uh, immunocompromised right now, which means, uh, if a bacteria touches me or, like, a virus touches me, I will explode. So, yeah, uh, I wanna- get the vaccine, is what I’m saying.

I’m gonna get cancelled by the anti-vaxxers for saying it, but it’s such a good vaccine, bro. Pfizer got full FDA approval, this week, for people aged sixteen and up. I think you- you can also get it if you’re eleven to fifteen if you’ve got emergency approval or whatever. Uh, I mean, if you have any concerns, don’t listen to a Minecraft YouTuber, but, please, at least talk to a doctor. Because it’s- it’s so good bro. It’s so good.

The hospitals are currently getting flooded by unvaccinated people. I’m gonna go ahead and speak on behalf of all cancer patients when I say that it is incredibly annoying when the- when the hospitals are getting overworked by people dying of preventable diseases. I’m just saying- we got dibs on those hospital beds. So, ya know, you- you probably don’t- you don’t even want them really. You don’t even want to need them. So, I think the vaccine… what is it? It, like, reduces the chances of you needing hospitalization from Covid by, like, ninety-six percent? I mean, it’s so effective, bro! Come on! I mean, you might still get, like… I mean, you could still catch coronavirus, but, like, the symptoms are gonna be so much milder, bro, I’m just saying. Think about it. Think about it. Talk to a doctor.

I remember when I first went in for chemotherapy, A: I was thrilled, ‘cause, like, yo! Healthcare! Inject it into my veins, bro! Let’s go! But, also, like, the first couple of days were actually pretty chill. I was like, ‘Dang! This is easy, bro!’. And then it kicked in. And then it kicked in. My energy levels were zero; they were absolutely nothing. It’s hard to describe how tired I was, but I think my one example is- so they let me go back home. And after several days of resting, I had a virtual appointment with a doctor. And, so, they were, like, ‘Alright’. And I was just sitting there, like, ‘Wait a second. You guys want me to sit upright in a chair for an hour? What is this, the Olympics, bro? I’m going back to bed! What? What?’ *laughs* ‘Wha? Let’s calm down here. Sitting in a chair? Am I Superman? Like, come one, bro.’

As you can probably tell, I’m feeling a lot better right now. Which is, uh, I think that’s part of the process, is, uh, you get a little bit of recovery time to, uh, ya know, eat a lot of really good food- get the weight back- and get ready for the next round.

And, uh, before we go back for the next round, I’m gonna be playing a lot of video games, uh, making some content, seeing if I can get some more videos prepared, because, uh- I know people are gonna be like, ‘No! Technoblade! You don’t need to make videos for us! Please rest!’

Nah, this isn’t about you, bro. This is about me. I enjoy this, man. This is, like, one of the safest and most fun things I could be doing right now, bro, I’m gonna do it. I don’t know how much content I could make, ‘cause I’m kinda slow, but we’ll see. We’ll see.

I already have a video prepared for next week, uh, September third. You guys are gonna love it. It’s, uh, it was actually- it’s kind of, kind of an old video. It was, uh, from a few months ago, but it’s very good. So, yeah! You guys have that to look forward to. 

And, for the record, I know I’ve been complaining a lot in this video, but I just wanna clarify that the doctors I have are, like, insanely good, bro. I’m gonna be getting some of the finest healthcare in the world, so don’t worry about me too much.

I think the treatment has already started to show some results. I- I mean, it’s been so short of a time, so the results aren’t gonna be insane or anything, but, at the very least, the speedrun music has stopped playing. 

So, yeah, that’s where I’ve been and that’s what I’m gonna be doing for the foreseeable future. Wish me luck, and, uh, wear a mask, I guess. Ya know, standard coronavirus procedures. All that coronavirus stuff and like, getting vaccinated - that goes double for Californians, okay? But it helps everywhere.

Uh, that’s all I’ve got for today. See you guys next time!

[birdsaesthetic]

Jane’s sketchbook

Summary: Jane freaking out over losing her sketchbook, my participation for 12 Days of Blindspot.

A/N: I wrote this a while ago then ignored it... But then I saw these prompts from @holidayblindspot which reminded me of already having written something that goes with one of the prompts, so I thought this was a sign for me to edit it real quick and post it. I’m so exited to be sharing this here because it’s beautiful and really worth sharing. ENJOY! 

Day 5: A ruined day. 

“Kurt,” Jane called from across the front room, to which Kurt immediately looked up and responded, “Yeah?”

“Have you seen my sketchbook?”

Looking around him quickly yet carefully, Kurt murmured, “No,” he then looked up at her, who seemed stunned at having heard the No from him. 

The two were in the middle of unpacking the boxes they brought up with them from their old apartment in New York all the way to the new one in Colorado, which, after managing to unpack the majority of the boxes and placing their contents ever since morning, it finally started to feel like home. Like their old apartment in New York. 

Doing so had been so fun at first, each one was having a glass of red wine in hand and there was loud music playing in the background and, since there weren’t curtains covering the windows just yet, there was the beautiful addition of bright and warm sunlight streaming inside the spacious front room that felt so rewarding and motivating. But when the sun went down, taking with it its light and warmth, the work got monotonous, and so by now they were both exhausted and hungry. 

Jane was also confused now. 

She looked down at all the boxes scattered on the floor around her, which were almost empty by now, and she felt the world spinning around her in confusion and fear for having been unable to locate her sketchbook among all these boxes. 

“Why? Couldn’t you find it?” Asked Kurt, seemingly confused too as he approached her.

Creases were starting to form on her forehead as she shook her head in confusion. “No,” she said quietly, then jumped from one box to another, double checking each one, randomly, quickly and with both hands, as if she were digging into a hole. And then, after all of that, which was in a span of thirty seconds, she shook her head yet again, though this time in disappointment, and looked up at Kurt in a plea for understanding. “I don’t know why I can’t find it because it should be here. I put it here. I put all my small things here, and I didn’t have a lot of things!” 

Kurt was standing right before her by now, hunching over to check inside the boxes again. It was helpless, he knew; she’d already rummaged in all those boxes with eager hands and big eyes and yet found nothing... But if there was a one-in-a-million chance, he would absolutely take it when it came to her.

When his eyes, wide open, met hers, he suggested, “Okay, maybe you’ve just got confused. Try to remember where you’ve last seen it.” She swallowed hard and tried to do as told, mouth slightly open. She settled her gaze at a random spot on his chest as both of them stood close against one another, then she pushed her mind so hard to visualize where she’d last seen the sketchbook and what she was doing, so she could retrace her steps in the process and hopefully remember something. 

But it was after a long, unbearable moment when Jane pushed her lower lip out in a sad pout and gave a shake of her head. Kurt hugged her loosely then. “It’s okay, we still have another set of boxes to be delivered here tomorrow morning.” He reminded her. “Hopefully we find it within one of the boxes then.”

Jane pulled back to look up at him, the sad look remained on her face. “But those coming boxes only have the kitchen supplies!” 

“You don’t know, maybe you forgot it there!”

“It’s not possible... I put it here,”

“Everything is possible.” He encouraged, then added, “Aren’t you hungry by now, though? Because I’m so hungry! How about pb&j for dinner, huh?”

“I don’t mind.” Jane muttered with a shrug. 

Together they decided to call it a day after dinner and climbed into bed, crawling close to each other as they lied down against the mattress. Their foreheads were touching as they shared a loving gaze, then Kurt whispered, “Can I get my good night kiss, or you don’t feel like—”

“No—yes, of course you’re getting your good night kiss!” She rushed to say, reassuring him just before she smiled the tiniest of smiles and kissed him hard on the lips, to which he kissed her back even harder. After that, she placed her hand over his arm that had been wrapped around her waist beneath the blanket, lifted it, rolled over to her side, and again let his arm be wrapped around her waist. This was how she’d always loved to sleep with him: she’d turn her back to him and he’d take the cue and cuddle her from behind with a light arm across her waist beneath the blanket and a soft kiss right behind her ear that would make her hum and snuggle deeper into his embrace until they’d look like two spoons in a drawer, very tight against each other. 

As she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, hoping to raise up to a promising morning that would bring with it her sketchbook, she could swear she saw the vague afterimage of the sketchbook in her eyes, but then she opened her eyes and only saw the darkness of the bedroom...

She didn’t own a lot of things, really. The only things she owned and loved so much were that sketchbook and her marriage ring. The engagement ring was as if glued to her finger ever since she had worn it years ago. As for the sketchbook, she had always made sure to keep it within her hand reach, though this time around it oddly disappeared! 

It was the very first purchase she made solely for herself when she started to receive a regular paycheck after working formally for the FBI. At first she didn’t know what to do with such a decent amount of money since she’d already been provided with a place to stay in, clothes, a cell phone and food—usually her detail had dropped food at her place without even asking for anything back, which made her really embarrassed.

It could be the crack of dawn or early morning when Jane fluttered her eyes open the next day, and after a long moment of gazing at Kurt’s sleeping face, she gave him a soft kiss on the temple then eased herself out of bed. With her eyes half closed, she managed to step the few paces toward the bathroom, rinsed her face in the sink, brushed her teeth and finally put on a comfy sweater she gripped from the hanger. 

Yawing, she stumbled across the front room that was messy with boxes they hadn’t even bothered to flatten or push away last night, until she made it into the kitchen. There she stood in the center, stretched her neck, and yawned some more with her eyes pressed close. When she reopened her eyes, the sight of a can of cocoa shoved in the far corner suddenly inspired her. And so, as if drawn by a magnet, she stepped toward the refrigerator, opened it and examined its contents, though there wasn’t much to see. There was random stuff and among them was a brand-new bottle of milk, which she only needed to fix a cup of hot cocoa for now.

She took it out then brought up a pan. There she poured some of the milk, dissolved cocoa powder, and finally put it on the stove to simmer. Standing with folded arms in the dim lighting in the kitchen, she stared down at the pan as the milk boiled within it, and after a full minute of waiting, small curls of steam rose into the air and the scents of cocoa powered revolved all around her, to which she felt torn between wanting to savour it immediately or just stand there and inhale it. But she awaited a bit more. Next she poured everything into an oversized cup with a faint smile. 

Warming her fingers with the cup, she made her way to the dining table, then settled on a seat there as she began taking small sips of the hot cocoa before it had even cooled off, to which it took her by surprise at first at how hot it was, scalding even. 

During such times, when she woke earlier than she would and was by herself, she would bring up her sketchbook and sketch on it whatever she was feeling at the given moment. It was the perfect timing and place to do so; her thoughts would emerge so originally in the early mornings, they wouldn’t be conflicted nor affected by the day’s activities just yet. 

She hadn’t known how good she was at sketching until one day she held a pencil, a very sharp one, and began sketching without any struggle. Back then, when solving her tattoos had been what her life was basically all about, she used to sketch them individually in hopes of finding any connection that might help figure out what they actually meant. But then as the days passed, she thought she wanted to do something else, something that was in a good way stirring her heart down to the depths, just like the way her spoon was stirring her cup of cocoa now.

And so, with her pencil sharp, she began with a light outline of a face, next she worked on the eyes, which she made them like the shape of almond. She let out a sigh then,  knowing that the eyes must be the toughest part, before continuing with them. She drew the first pupil, purposely making it darker than the eye, then did the same for the other eye. She added a little shading underneath the eyes and from there she started with the nose, extending two lines where the inner corners of each eye were located. 

The rest went easy: she did the eyebrows, the lips, the beard and then the hair, creating a solid and visible looking hairline from the sides of the head. 

It was Kurt’s face that she sketched and it looked impressive at the end. She made him look as if staring at her, and made his expression soft with a faint smile—the way he’d usually look at her. 

It was quiet around her now, not a single sound, until she heard running waters within the bathroom and, a minute later, she saw Kurt emerge and approach her. “Mornin,” he smiled, his face awash with decent sleep, his hair... so fluffy she couldn’t help but think it needed a trim, so badly.

“Mornin,” she replied. 

He bent down and stole his morning kiss from her then hummed. “You taste like a really good hot cocoa!”

“Because I was drinking one.” She told him, showing him her cup, almost empty by now. 

“Can I have the same?”

“Sure.” She got up and started doing the same thing she did earlier, taking the same measurements. 

“Did you sleep well, Jane?” He asked as she waited by the stove for the cocoa to simmer. “Yeah.”

“You don’t look like you slept well.” He claimed. 

“I slept well, Kurt. Now tell me, when is our ship  gonna get here?”

“Maybe after a bit.”

She served him his cocoa in a brand-new cup, and he took it with all smiles after thanking her. 

When their another set of boxes arrived, after some time, Jane tucked all of her hair back behind her ears and, kneeling down, she eagerly began looking thoroughly in each box along with Kurt. As she’d said before, the boxes contain kitchen supplies: dishes, cups, mixing bowls, knives and spoons, a cutting board, blender, vegetable peeler and a number of whisks. 

But even after all this effort, they couldn’t find it, Jane’s sketchbook, among all of those things. 

She stood up on her feet then, and took a deep breath, tired and disappointed, her palm wiping away the sweat on her forehead and her eyes, helplessly, maintained searching in the mess of boxes on the floor. 

“It’s alright, I’ll get you a new one, I promise.” Kurt tried to soothe her, to which she looked up at him and, shaking her head, she complained, “It’s not about getting a new one, Kurt. I need my old one back. It carries lots of memories and...” she trailed off with her head falling down, but after a moment of silence Kurt approached forward until he closed the gap between them and cupped her face in his hands, lifting it to his level. “We will be making new memories here. Beautiful ones.”

“I know, but...there’s just one drawing of you within the sketchbook that I just love so much and I want it back.”

“You have lots of pencils and papers here. You also have me here. I will sit still the whole day so that you can draw me, I really wouldn’t mind, you know me.” He suggested, to which she smiled the way one corner of her mouth tilted up whenever she felt affection for him, then chuckled. “You don’t have to. I can draw you easily without having to look at you.”

He grinned. “Right, because you’re the most talented person I’ve ever met.”

“It’s not wholly because I’m that talented though. I wouldn’t be able to do that with anyone else except for you, because I always have you in my head—this is how and why I drew you in the first place. I know your face very well—even more than my own, I would say—and I know how you would look from every angle.”

He pushed his lower lip out in an impressive pout, feeling awash with affection for her. “You know lots of things about me! Do you also wanna know what I know about you?” He asked, having already slipped both hands from her face down her neck, shoulders, and finally her waist. And before she could say anything in response, he was tickling her there. “I know how to make you laugh, and laugh, and laugh.”

She was laughing then, pleading him to stop it, squirming her body out of his arms, and calling his name aloud and repeatedly, but that was only for him to reward her with more stroking against her waist, the area where he knew was very sensitive for her. She tried to fight his firm grip around her, tried to push him away, tried to run away, but seconds later she was, almost instinctively, clutching into him hard, as if holding for her life, and kept laughing nonstop, like she never had in her whole life, head dropped back exposing her neck for him to bury his face there, mouth open to the fullest, and eyes squeezed. Her laughters rolled about the front room in the early morning, like a child's spinning top, vibrant and heart-warming as it moved around them in its chaotic way. It came in fits and bursts—loud to soft to nothing when she was gasping for breaths in-between, then back to loud again and so on.

Just like this, her previous, sad face was replaced with a happy and laughing one.

He really knew how to butter her up. Always had.

A/N: I don’t really support the idea of Jeller moving out of New York after canon. I love them to be there and I think it suits them perfectly to be New Yorkers. But I had to fake it only for this fic’s plot. So they’re still in New York in my head now, enjoying themselves...