#like man what am I supposed to do they’re everywhere and it would be so hard to move out 😭

[poppyseed799]

Brother why are there so many roaches we have had TWO full exterminations and BOTH TIMES the roaches came back. The first time there were less of them for a week (still some) but the second time there was absolutely zero difference in the number of roaches even immediately after the extermination. Like man. What am I supposed to do about this

[cherryredcheol]

matchy-matchy

tldr: match with me? a/n: i am embarrassed to admit how long it took me to come up with each of these

ot13 x reader

seungcheol: bracelets

except its one of those welded-on bracelets that you can only get off with some kind of tool that can cut through chain. he wanted you both to be reminded every day that your love was strong, unbreakable, permanent. the chain was dainty on both your wrists, barely noticeable, but still ever-present. ever the possessive guy, he liked having his mark on you. and he supposed a bracelet would do for now; until he gave you his last name. 

jeonghan: lego figurines

they’re minifigs and he had them custom-made to look like you, favorite outfits and everything. they’re on a little shelf that’s mounted to the wall. below the shelf are two little hooks, one for your keys and one for his. your keys go underneath your figure and his under his own. these minifigs were a gift for you very early on in the relationship. they’ve moved all over with you and now they’re part of your shared home. 

joshua: luggage

he brings you everywhere with him so it makes sense that your bags all match so you don’t draw suspicion. so what if he was pictured with a suitcase that has a my melody plush keychain on it? he’s man enough to admit he likes my melody, but really he likes you more and it’s easier that everything look the same. he doesn’t even have to think about it when grabbing a bag from the closet for each of you before heading on your next adventure together. 

junhui: ramen bowls

yes, you could hypothetically use this bowl for something other than ramen, but that would make it not special anymore and that just won’t do. it tickles both of you to no end to pull those bowls down from the cabinet and rifle through the silverware drawer for the matching chopsticks, all items printed with a delicate cherry blossom pattern. when the bowls were purchased the intention wasn’t even for them to become the bowls you use but its too late to look back now. 

soonyoung: water bottles

he dances and works out a lot, therefore he drinks a lot of water. he was going through plastic bottles of water like nobody’s business so you convinced him to get a reusable one. so he did, and he got you one to match! yours is black, inconspicuous. his is bright orange. the reasoning? they’re tiger colors, but subtle. why do you kind of agree with him?

wonwoo: phone wallpapers

they’re lowkey and you wouldn’t know they’re matching unless you saw them both side by side and noticed that the street light in both photos looks a little similar…the pictures are always from the walks you two go on in the middle of the night when it can be just you and him without the pressures of his career. some of your best moments together have come from those nights and the pictures are reminders of that. 

jihoon: slippers

the universe factory is cold, always. and yes, you keep an extra cozy blanket and hoodie in there but sometimes your feet get cold and your socks just aren’t enough. he must’ve noticed because there were suddenly two pairs of slippers by the door one day. when you asked about them, he just gestured vaguely and mumbled something about your feet. you’ll take it! they’re also not matching so much as they’re exactly the same. he claims this is for efficiency so he can wear either pair. cool, dude!

seokmin: sneakers

he has a lot of shoes. but his favorite pair are the ones that you bought together. they’re your favorite color and you each have a pair. you wear them together often, so smitten with each other it’s sickening. he always brings these sneakers on tour with him, whether you come too or not. its a win-win for him either way. he gets to match you from a close distance or from across the world. at least he knows he’s yours. 

mingyu: sunglasses

multiple pairs. every pair he buys himself, he also buys one for you. they're his favorite accessory and he looks oh so handsome in them so you never complain. your collection is slowly getting smaller though because he tends to break or lose things (sometimes both) and if it's a pair he really loved, he’ll ask with big puppy eyes if he can have the pair he bought for you. sometimes you tell him no just to see him pout.

minghao: manicures

oh, you’re going to get your nails done? he’s coming with, and paying. they don’t even have to be the same design or anything, they just have to go together. you don’t want a super complicated design like him? okay, cool. just get the same color. you went without him? fine, but what color is on your nails? it has to be the exact same as yours or else it doesn’t count. the colors may look similar but they’re not exactly the same polish? you might as well break up. 

seungkwan: phone cases

the design you chose has a little inside joke meaning to the two of you. no one even bothers asking the meaning behind the joke because they ‘wouldn’t get it’. your phone also has a different pc of him in it weekly (he changes it based on his mood) so your coworkers think you’re a super fan with your matching phone case and pc, obsessed with the idol on your phone. little do they know…

hansol: keychains

you have a miffy one, it's fuzzy.  he has a darth vader one, it’s lego. it kind of just appeared on your keychain one day and when you mentioned it to him he casually explained he put it there the other week. he fished through his pocket to show you his matching (?) keychain. the only explanation he gives? ‘it’s totally us,’ and how could you argue with that?

chan: stuffed animals

they’re dinosaurs, not dragons, thank you very much. and yes, they are therapeutically weighted to ease anxiety when placed on the chest. have a problem with that? i didn’t think so. these things go everywhere with you. if a car ride is longer than an hour, your green dinosaur is guaranteed to be there. he’s flying to tokyo? not without his passport and his little pink friend. show some respect! these are your kids!

[lucyrose191]

BROKEN DECISIONS| T.WOLFF

Pairing; Divorced!Toto Wolff x fem!engineer!Schumacher!reader

Summary; The news of Toto Wolff divorcing from Susie has just hit the media and you, Michael Schumacher’s eldest daughter and George Russel’s race engineer, are beyond shocked, even more so as your relationship with your boss begins to evolve.

Warnings; angst, light smut, heartbreak, pregnancy trope.

F1 Master List , Part 2

The paddock was overwhelmed with media reporters and cameras, way more than usual for a race weekend, the Mercedes garage was surrounded by people as well as the entrance to the track, all waiting for one man, Toto Wolff.

You had been more than taken back by the joint statements released this morning which both effectively said the same thing.

mercedesamgf1: Team Principle Toto Wolff announces divorce from wife Susie Wolff, both will continue to co-parent son Jack Wolff and will continue to work together happily, they wish nothing but the best for each other in the future and wish for the privacy and support they need during this time.

SusieStoddart: Toto and I have mutually decided to part ways and divorce after 12 years of marriage, both of us will continue to co-parent our son, Jack and will continue working together in the future. I wish nothing but the best to him for the future, please respect our privacy during this time and I hope you guys will continue to support us both from this point on, even on our separate paths. Thank you.

It all seemed so sudden to you, nothing has seemed out of place whenever they were in the garage together but you suppose that’s how the saying you never know what’s going on behind closed doors goes.

You squeezed your way through the crowd, ignoring all of the questions fired your way and the cameras and microphones that were shoved in your face, it wasn’t your job to be making comments about a relationship that had nothing to do with you and it was entirely unprofessional.

Huffing out a breath as you finally crossed the threshold of the garage, you straightened out your clothes and bag before making your way over to your desk that you sat at whenever George was out on the track.

Bono was already in his chair and looked up when he heard you pull your hair out, taking note of your flustered state. "I take it you’ve seen the news."

"It’s everywhere! It’d be a miracle if I hadn’t seen it," you huffed. Looking around, you noticed how flustered everyone else seemed to be whilst trying to do their jobs, you didn’t blame them because right now no one knew what mood the boss was going to be in when he arrived, if he arrived.

"Is he even coming today? I certainly wouldn’t." You asked.

Bono shrugged, "you know what he’s like, that man would be here even if his leg was falling off, he’ll be here and god help him when he is."

"Yeah, true. Am I blind though or did anyone else not see this coming because they were both at the factory two weeks ago and everything seemed fine to me."

Bono turned away from his monitor and completely turned to you, huddling closer. "I didn’t suspect anything either but they’re really good as keeping work life and private life separated. Have you seen some of the rumours though?"

You snorted and nodded your head, "I’ve seen the ones about Toto having an affair which is ridiculous, that man does not have the time to be hiding an entire relationship."

Bono laughed at your choice of words but abruptly stopped as he stared behind you causing you to look at him in confusion before turning around, pausing at the sight of your boss walking in with a face of stone.

"Ahh shit," you muttered, hearing a small hum of agreement coming from Bono.

Then you saw him heading into your direction.

"Double shit," You heard Bono mumble causing you to bite your lip, trying to prevent yourself from smiling.

"Y/N. Bono. Good Morning," Toto nodded his head in greeting.

You smiled up at him, "Morning, boss, feeling positive about today?"

Bono sighed from behind you which caused you to internally wince at your own words, now realising that might not have been a good question to ask.

"Yeah," Toto looked between the pair of you suspiciously. "Are you?"

"Very," you tried to sound convincing, "I’m sure George is going to drive like it’s his last race and if not then I’ll boot him up the arse."

Toto looked at you amused, "I believe you."

After he walked away you turned to Bono with a pained look on your face meanwhile he was trying not to fall into laughter. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

He laughed straight in your face as you sighed at yourself. "How an I supposed to talk to him normally when all I want to say to his face is ‘hey, heard about your divorce, that sucks and now everyone thinks you can’t keep a wife’."

"Yeah don’t say that," Bono grimaced at your words.

Everything was real now, it had been real for a while but now the news was out for everyone to gossip about.

Things hadn’t been right for a long time between him and Susie and whilst there hadn’t been any constant arguing or disloyalty between the two of them, there hadn’t been much else either.

You’d have thought working within the same industry would have built an understanding between them about their schedules and commitments and it had in the beginning but as formula one became more popular, their lives had only gotten busier to the point they hardly saw each other and even when they did it was only to ensure Jack was getting enough quality time with both of his parents, it was as though they had been coparenting with each other whilst they weren’t even split.

A year ago they had accepted the inevitable fate of their marriage and had been figuring out the logistics of their divorce but just like they had kept their struggles silenced, they had kept the news of their parting silent too.

But it had been over a year now and quite frankly the fake shows they were putting on were getting exhausting, they were both moving on and pretending to still be a happily married couple wasn’t doing well in helping them in the process.

Toto had found a particular thing that hadn’t allowed him to dwell in the sadness of his private life. Something, or someone, that didn’t even know how much they were helping him.

You.

Everyday you showed up to work with a smile on your face, eternally grateful for everything life had offered you. You had achieved your dreams of working within formula one, it might not have been on the track driving at record breaking speeds like your father but you had one of the most important roles in the team and you enjoyed it.

Even today as he walked through the doors trying to ignore all of the sad, pathetic looks people were giving him and the onslaught of invasive questions people were attacking him with and even if they weren’t verbally shooting words his way, he could see the unasked questions in everyone’s eyes, you greeted him like you did every other day and whilst he knew you were aware of the news, nothing in your face showed the slightest bit of curiosity towards the end of his marriage and he couldn’t express how refreshing that was and how much he needed it.

Slowly, he found himself looking forward to the days ahead where he could bump into you and witness the smile on your face as he tried to ignore the way your energy made his heart feel funny and when Mick signed as the team’s reserve driver he would use the fact that he was ‘mentoring’ your little brother as an excuse to see you, knowing that naturally he would be around you more.

You jumped up from your seat in excitement as you saw both Mercedes cars pass the checkered flag securing second and third place behind Max, obviously.

"George you fucking beautiful human bring!" You shouted through the radio before turning to look for Toto, hoping that these results would have put a smile on his face only to find that he was already looking at you intensely, not even acknowledging the pats he was getting on his back by team members.

He winked at you? And sent you what seemed to be a grateful smile before turning away to celebrate with those around him. You were thankful he did so and didn’t see the pink hue you could feel spreading through your cheeks.

A sudden weight on your back didn’t allow you to dwell on it. Mick had launched himself at you in his exhilaration causing you to quickly latch onto his legs so you both didn’t go tumbling, you laughed and spun the pair of you around before putting him down so you could all go outside and gather in the pits to watch the podium.

You always went out of your way to be a kind person but the moment your team was standing under the podium all manners went out of the way and you barged your way to the front of the barriers to watch, mumbling half-hearted apologies, you knew no one would take your behaviour the wrong way as you’ve known them for so long.

Looking up, you were happy to see the smiles on Lewis and George’s faces, tough seasons can really take a told on the mental health of the drivers and it can be easy to lose motivation, especially when you were part of a team that was so used to winning but they looked as happy as ever now and it made all of the hard work that everyone had put in worth it.

Two hands clamped down on your shoulders startling you, followed by the feeling of a firm chest being pressed up against your back. You looked up and saw Toto but he wasn’t looking at you, he kept his gaze up on the podium and the happiness on his face hadn’t subsided so you didn’t question it and turned back to the celebrations.

His behaviour was really confusing you and you wanted to talk to him about it but decided to push it away for another day.

His behaviour hasn’t been limited to that day alone.

The entire season has been filled with soft touches from him, from a small brush of his hand against your back as he walked past or light touches of your hips to guide you to the side when you were in his walk way.

Let’s not forget about the way he started to look at you. Toto’s stare was always intense but now you couldn’t ignore the soft shine his eyes held as he looked at you.

You hoped you weren’t reading too much into things otherwise that would be embarrassing but you couldn’t stop noticing the little things he would do and what was even worse was the way these things were effecting you.

These touches would leave your skin feeling tingly and your head fuzzy to the point your mind just turned blank and now whenever he was so much as in the same room as you, your mind became hyper-fixated on his presence to the point it felt like you were compelled to constantly glance in his direction.

You had worked for him for nearly eight years and not once had you even considered looking at him in any other way other than as your boss and a friend.

You acknowledged that he was handsome and had the charisma to match but you had never been attracted to him up until now, how was this year any different to the last seven?

Hands slamming down into your desk startled you from your thoughts, you looked up wide eyed at the grinning face of your younger brother causing you to grumble in annoyance and throw the pen that was sitting on your desk at him.

"What’s wrong with your face?" Mick easily dodged your attack and asked.

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"My big sister always has a smile on her face and for the last twenty minutes you’ve been sat there staring at nothing with a frown on your face."

"Nothing," you muttered, turning back to your laptop screen that had long since shut off.

"Right," Mick replied sarcastically, "Come on, tell me what’s wrong."

You pursed your lips as you debated telling him or not. "You promise not to tell anyone?"

Mick’s face lost its teasing look as he realised you were actually troubled. "Of course." He replied sincerely.

You hesitated for a moment longer before asking "have you noticed that Toto has been acting strange lately?"

Mick looked at you surprised for a moment before smirking and nodded, "you mean the fact that the entire season he’s been staring at you like you’re the finest piece of meat he’s ever seen?" He asked teasingly.

"I wouldn’t have worded it that way but yeah," you responded.

"Then yes, I’m surprised it took you this long to acknowledge it."

You shook your head, "I noticed it at the beginning of the season but I thought I was imagining it and now I can’t stop noticing the fact that he-"

"Fancies the hell out of you?" Mick finished, a shit eating grin on his face.

You groaned and placed your head against your desk. "This is wrong, he’s my boss!"

"Tell me about it, he’s mine too and he fancies my sister!"

"Stop saying he fancies me!" You told him resulting in him just laughing at you. "Seriously Mick, what am I supposed to do?"

Mick sighed and looked at you seriously, "Do you like him?"

"I dont know," you replied honestly, "before this season I wouldn’t have even looked at him as anything but my boss and a friend but now he keeps looking at me and taking any opportunity to touch me and it’s confusing me."

Mick pulled an uncomfortable face at your words but gave you some advice. "Then do nothing until you know for sure."

You nodded and he smiled before walking around your desk and wrapping you in a tight hug which was more like a headlock but it was a hug nonetheless.

"Smile! We’re in Abu Dhabi and we’re partying tonight," he fake cheered as he walked away causing you to laugh at his behaviour.

And that’s exactly what you did. It had been a tough season for Mercedes, the team hadn’t nearly performed as well as they were used to but through a lot of hard work the season had ended on a high note and and no one was going to dwell on this years difficulties tonight.

You were definitely allowing yourself some freedom tonight to drink away and forget about the confusing thoughts that had been swimming around in your head all season.

The club was dark except for the colourful flashing lights that were roaming the entirety of the room that the FIA had rented out for all of the f1 teams celebrating tonight. You were already feeling more relaxed from the three drinks you hadn’t wasted time on consuming and had dragged poor Bono, who had zero rhythm, to the dance floor.

The man looked traumatised as he simply stood there awkwardly with you holding onto his hands, swaying his arms to try and encourage him to dance and have a bit of fun.

You kept him there for an hour before eventually taking pity on him and letting him go, you walked over to the bar to get another drink, not seeing the person approaching you until he was right beside you.

"You look lovely."

You turned to your right in surprise, Toto was mimicking your stance, leaning his side against the bar as he looked into yours eyes. "Thank you," you replied, a little shocked at his words.

"I see you were having fun with Bono," he commented absentmindedly.

You laughed, "Me? Yes. I don’t think he was having as much fun as I was."

"He’s not much of a dancer," Toto smirked.

"Oh, I know. He can’t move to save his life but it doesn’t mean he shouldn’t try."

The bartender placed your drink in front of you and you took a sip after giving him a thanks. "Have you been having fun?" You asked.

Toto tapped his fingers against the bar top and signed. "As much as I can after the shit season we’ve had."

"We’ll be better next year," you replied confidently.

He simply nodded in response, dragging his gaze down your body and back up again.

The feeling of his eyes trailing you left a burning heat on your skin and an unfamiliar fluttering in your stomach.

"I like this dress," he told you, nodding at the tight fabric that clung to your figure.

"I got it yesterday," you knew he didn’t care but for some reason you felt inclined to share that information with him, fighting the urge to look away and hide a smile.

"You picked wisely," he immediately responded and this time you didn’t fight the smile, his smooth responses settling within you exactly how he wanted.

"I’m glad you like it," your voice was quiet in the midst of the loud music and voices but it didn’t prevent him from hearing you words.

The way he smirked down at you made you feel much smaller than you were, the idea of how his stature and strength would help with the power he held over you made you burn with need and the want to find out for yourself.

You huffed out a breath.

You needed another drink.

You threw your head back into the pillows and gasped as Toto thrusted into you, pulsating pleasure rushing through your body with every movement.

You didn’t know how you got to this point, the night was a haze of drinking, close dancing and longing looks but the one memory that stood out was the warmth of Toto’s hands against your hips, after that everything blurred up until this moment.

Your arm wrapped around the back of his neck, your hand burying itself into his hair as you tried to ground yourself but you were hopeless within the haze of his kisses against your throat and hands holding your thighs spread for him.

"Toto!"

His breath was heavy against your skin. "You feel so good, schatz." The guttural groan he released sent you feral, you tightened your grip on him and pulled him closer so your chests pressed against each other.

Your vision went white as Toto just grazed that sweet spot inside you with one particularly hard thrust before he angled his hips in a way that with each bruising snap of his hips he made, the tip of his cock would brush against you just right.

As you felt yourself approaching your release, your back arched and the air remained trapped in your lungs, your grip tightened on Toto’s hair causing him to groan into your neck while your other hand shot up behind you and grabbed onto the headboard.

Just as you were at the precipice of your release, Toto reached down and circled your clit with his fingers providing the last bit of stimulation needed for you to let go and dive into a river of overwhelming pleasure.

The sight of your face completely blissed out made Toto’s cock harden more inside of you, he continued to thrust and work you through your orgasm whilst chasing his own, chasing his release as he felt his body fill with an indescribable need to continue rutting into you.

The groan of relief he let out followed by a warmth in your core brought you back to reality, Toto allowed his body to collapse onto your own and simply lay there as he caught his breath and recovered from his own orgasm.

Your hand continued to run through his hair, grounding his mind to reality and encouraging him back from his high.

Moments later, Toto removed himself from you and curled up behind you, wrapped an arm across your stomach and pulled you into his chest.

Both still feeling the haze of the alcohol in your systems, no words needed to be spoken between the pair of you as you both succumbed to much needed sleep.

You woke up feeling as though your brain was swelling beyond the capacity of your skull and dehydrated to the point you felt like you could drink about forty litres of water.

Every part of your body ached as you moved beneath the covers, flashes of last night flickered through your mind causing you to groan at the reminder of your drink choices.

You were definitely regretting it now.

A particular memory caused you to pause and look beneath the sheets, grimacing as you realised you were naked.

Then you froze, Toto.

Your head shot to the side and instead of laying your eyes upon your boss’ 6ft5 frame you were greeted by an empty half of the bed with only crumpled white sheets.

Your heart dropped as you looked around the room, there was no indication that anyone else had been here but the ache between your legs made it very clear that last night did in fact happen.

He had left.

After an entire season of fighting with your feelings and the way he made you feel, you had given in to him only for him to leave.

You felt sick and dirty and disgusting and used.

You pulled yourself into the shower and tried to to push down the need to cry but you were filled with an overwhelming sense of betrayal and couldn’t stop the rogue fear that fell down your cheek.

Waiting to board the plane back to England, you looked down at your phone, you had a feeling Toto was already there by now and you had messaged him ages ago but no response.

Had you been crazy believing that he could have feelings for you?

You were so mad at yourself for being as affected as you were by his actions, it felt like someone had your heart in their fist and found amusement in squeezing it, filling you with the need to just let go and allow your emotions to flow freely.

You didn’t need to be back at the factory until after Christmas so you went straight home and unpacked your bag before repacking to go and spend your time off in Switzerland with your family, Toto still hadn’t responded and you were positive he was just ignoring you now and you didn’t try to get a response.

You’d deal with that after Christmas.

Normally you’d wait a week or two after the season ended to go back home but you really had no reason to stay, you’d changed your mind on attending the FIA awards which had confused Mick when you told him but he could tell something was wrong and chose not to pry.

You seriously didn’t think the year could get worse, you were so wrong.

The last three weeks in Switzerland had been hell to put it lightly, Christmas was just around the corner but it was hard to be excited when you had caught the sickness bug, the amount of time you spent in bed throwing up was disgusting at this point and the coddling of your family wasn’t helping.

You knew they loved you but you wish they’d just leave you alone to wallow in misery.

Toto was still a lingering thought in the back of your mind and it was only adding to how rubbish you felt but you hadn’t made any other attempt to get in touch, he hadn’t tried either so you knew where you stood with him and that was enough.

New years had passed and you were now back in England to go back to work, you had never dreaded going to work in all the years you’d worked for Mercedes so the unsettling feeling in your stomach was new.

But that could also just be nausea.

You still hadn’t completely recovered from your sickness over the holidays, you were no longer bed bound but the urge to throw up and the loss of appetite was still there, the loss of weight was visible in the sickly paleness of your face so you had booked a doctors appointment for the upcoming Friday.

Your stomach churned as you walked through the doors of the Mercedes headquarters, as the daughter of Michael Schumacher you got a lot more attention in the building as you would’ve if you were just a race engineer so the nods from almost everyone as you walked in weren’t strange to you but the sympathetic looks were.

You hoped it was just because you looked as if you hadn’t seen sun for the past ten years.

Deciding to stop by hospitality on the way to your office for a bottle of water, you paused in the doorway at the sight of Toto and didn’t hesitate to turn right back around before your mind even processed his presence.

You got a few funny looks by the people in there but you truly didn’t care.

It stayed like that for the rest of the week, whenever you found yourself in the same room as your boss there was no time wasted before you left even if there were still things needed to be done in that room, you didn’t even try to be subtle about it either.

As soon as he entered the room you immediately took your leave, it was rude but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care and you doubted he cared either.

You had taken the day off work today to attend your doctor’s appointment so thankfully you didn’t need to waste your efforts avoiding him.

"Symptoms are nausea, sickness and weight loss," The doctor listed and you nodded in clarification.

She looked at you knowingly, "When did your last cycle finish?" She asked.

You pulled a face and leaned your head back in thought, it was probably before Vegas, but that was….. your face grew even paler than it already was.

"November," you whispered, your body filling with complete and utter horror.

The doctor’s face grew sympathetic at your reaction, "and you’ve had unprotected sexual intercourse since then?" She asked though your face gave her the answer.

You were at a loss for words so you resulted in nodding; the idea of you being pregnant only made you feel more sick.

"Okay," she replied softly, "We’ll have you take a test to confirm."

You didn’t even register the next ten minutes, lost in your own mind as an emptiness settled within you, your chest ached with pain at the idea that your whole life could be changed in just a few short minutes.

"Miss Schumacher, are you okay?" The doctor asked worriedly.

You snapped back to reality and nodded numbly.

"The test came back positive, Y/N, so I’ll refer you to a midwife and during this time you should think about what you want to do, okay?"

How you didn’t crash on the way home was a miracle because you definitely weren’t concentrating, you carried your body straight to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, you looked like hell.

Just the sight caused your eyes to well up and this time you didn’t fight the emotions, you welcomed the tears and allowed the pain to consume you, the pain of realising just how alone you were in this moment.

You slid down against the bathroom door and curled yourself into a ball, buried your face into your knees and sobbed until you no longer could.

The weight in your chest was still present as you walked into work the following Monday but you no longer had any tears to spare, you had made up your mind about what your future would consist of and today would mark the beginning of it.

Knocking on the door to Toto’s office, you waited for confirmation to enter and he clearly hadn’t anticipated you on the other side from the look of surprise on his face but you didn’t mention it and closed the door behind you.

"We need to talk," you wasted no time in pleasantries and sat down in the seat opposite him.

"Is there a problem with the car?" He asked, his formal tone cut through you like a knife but you refused to show the effect it had.

You wouldn’t have thought the pair of you were friends just two months ago.

"There’s nothing wrong with the car," you told him.

"What do we need to talk about then?" He asked.

He was royally pissing you off with the way he was pretending to be ignorant. "We need to talk about what happened between us-"

"This is unprofessional," he interrupted and you scoffed in disbelief.

"Unprofessional?" You laughed in his face. "Do you know what else in unprofessional? Sleeping with your employee."

His face dropped at the bluntness of your words, "look, you shouldn’t be bringing private matters into the workplace."

"How else am I supposed to bring them up? Over text message where I never get a response?" You looked at him incredulously. "This is important-"

"I don’t want to hear it, Y/N," he cut you off harshly. "What happened between us shouldn’t have happened, it was a moment of weakness and it will never happen again."

You looked at him stone faced before nodding, "fine." You got up from your seat and left without another word, not bothering closing his door.

You didn’t go to your office, instead you went to HR.

Walking past the different offices you went straight for the head of HR. "Chloe?" You knocked on the door quietly, opening it once you received a response.

She smiled at you in greeting, "Y/N, can I help you with something?"

You nodded softly and sat down on the sofa she had against the wall. "How many holidays do I have?"

She looked at you suspiciously, "All of them, you didn’t put one in for Friday so that went unpaid."

"Okay," you muttered under your breath, "I want to cash them all in, starting from tomorrow."

"What?" She looked at you shocked. "Are you sure? If there’s something going on we can figure out a better solution for you."

You smiled and shook your head, "Uhm no I’m sure, I want to use them all and then after that I’ll be taking early maternity leave."

Chloe’s eyes widened in shock. "Wow, okay, congratulations."

"Thanks, I want to spend my pregnancy in Switzerland so you won’t see me around."

You could see that she had questions but didn’t ask them and you appreciated it, "I understand, I’m happy for you Y/N, I’ll get it all sorted for you."

"Great," you stood up and headed towards the door.

"Y/N?" You turned around, Chloe looked at you sincerely, "Give me a call if you need someone to talk to, yeah?"

You probably wouldn’t but you nodded and left.

To say Toto was surprised when he found out they were down their usual race engineer for the season was an understatement.

It was completely unexpected and he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t happy about it, George was not at all in agreement to having a new voice in his ear.

It wasn’t even for a couple races either, it was for the entire season.

No one in the team had any information on what had happened except two people, Mick and Chloe.

No one could ask Mick because he had left to do the world endurance championship and when Toto had went to ask Chloe all he got was a shrug and words that sounded as though they’d been read from the companies handbook.

"It’s against an employee’s confidentiality rights to discuss the matters with you, even if you are the boss, all I can tell you is she’ll be back at work next year."

Meanwhile, in Switzerland you were slowly but surely feeling much better.

You were putting the situation between you and Toto behind you, you were recovering and as you did, your bump grew and the sight made you smile.

The horror and fear you felt when you found out about your pregnancy had dissipated weeks ago, leaving you filled with excitement and love for the journey you had ahead of you.

With your mother and sister around you, the loneliness you felt had evaporated as well.

You were doing good and felt amazing and that’s all that mattered right now.

[princessofmarvel]

Runaway

summary | thomas has made a deal with a man to help his business. thomas’s only condition? to marry the man's daughter. except she doesn’t want to marry him. 

pairing | thomas shelby x fem!reader

word count | 1.98k

 genre | fluff with some angst?

requested? | yes! i had so much fun writing this! especially since i have never written anything like this before! thank you so much for requesting! please let me know if you like it!

warnings! | arranged marriage? darkish thomas? (not really, i’m just not great at writing dark characters sometimes, lol) not proof read yet!

author’s note! | hey everyone! this main character was written with poc in mind, i have tried my best, but since i am not a person of color please let me know if there is anything i can change to make it better! i hope you enjoy your request! please know that if you have requested something, i promise that i will get to it soon! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!

Thomas knew what was happening today, hell his whole family knew. His future bride was coming to birmingham. He struck up a good deal with her father about helping her fathers business about a week ago, then he saw a photo of the man's daughter. The only condition Thomas made? To marry his daughter. Once they agreed, the man said he needed a week to get his family there. By the time they got there, Thomas had already got everything set up to make damn sure the man would be successful in birmingham. Which included a few fights, but Thomas would do it all over again if it meant he could have her. 

They weren’t to meet until the wedding, something her father insisted on. So Thomas stood in a room of the church getting ready, when his brother John busted in. 

“They can’t find her Tommy” was all John said as he huffed as if he was out of breath.

Thomas’s mind began to race. What did he mean they couldn’t find her? Has something happened? Had one of his enemies found out about today and took her? 

“She was getting ready, and asked for a moment to herself, when her mother came back in to check on her, she was gone.” John added as he leaned on the closest chair. 

Thomas stood and took in his brother's words for a moment before he left the room. His future wife was out in Birmingham in her pretty white dress, with no protection and no one was doing anything about it. Her family may not know this city, but Thomas did. He knew what could happen to her if she stayed out there too long. This won’t be an issue when they’re married, and she has his last name. She could kill someone and get away with it then, but right now no one in Birmingham knows who she is. All they know is that she is a pretty girl in a white wedding dress, and the thought of what could happen to her made him sick.  

Thomas looked everywhere he could think his fiance would be. He couldn’t find her anywhere, the only place he hadn’t checked was the Garrison. 

He walked in to see his bride to be, standing behind the bar making herself what looked like her fourth drink. He walked in slowly, making sure not to scare her. 

“(Y/n)?” He asked as he walked up to the bar. She looked up at him as she continued to make her drink. “I’m Thomas Shelby, your future-”

“I know who you are.” She said, cutting him off. 

“Well, we're supposed to be getting married right now.” He said matter of factly. “So what are you doing here?”

“I’m not marrying you, thought you would have figured that out by now.” She said as she took a sip of her drink. 

Thomas looked at her, making sure to not show how shocked he was that she was speaking to him that way.

“And, why not?” He asked her, now intrigued. 

“I don’t want to, I don't know you.” She said as she finished her drink. 

Thomas moved to be behind the bar where she was. He took her drink from her hand and placed it on the bar. 

“(Y/n)” He said as he towered over her. “Your father has already given me your hand.” 

“I know, I don’t care.” She said as she grabbed her drink back from Thomas.

Thomas just took a moment and stared at the girl as she took her drink back. It was the first time he truly got to look at her. He got to take in the color of her eyes, and the curl of her hair, she truly was beautiful.

“Why exactly are you so against marrying me?” He asked as he stared at her. 

“I want to be my own person, not defined by my father or my husband.” She said not missing a beat. 

“I think I can help with that.” Thomas said, starting to get closer to the girl. “I have a certain reputation, if you’re married to me, you’ll be untouchable.”

“That's still me being defined by my husband.” She said, cutting him off with a small eye roll. 

Thomas took the drink from her and set it back down, but this time, she didn’t turn away from him, she just stared up at him, waiting for him to continue. 

“As I was saying, you would be untouchable, and if you wanted a role in peaky blinder business, you wouldn’t just be “Thomas Shelby's wife”. You would be “(Y/n) Shelby, most feared woman in Birmingham”. You have an opportunity here, the choice is yours.” Thomas said, staring her in the eyes. Normally he would never offer this to someone he just met. But there was something about (Y/n), just the look in her eyes, the way she wasn’t scared of him, how she held herself, how she looked at him with the same amount of intensity he looked a her with, how she didn’t care she was defying the most feared man in birmingham. "Don't let your pride get in the way of a smart decision."

Thomas watches the girl stare at the wall for a moment, him taking in her side profile. Until she finally looked up at him.

"I won't be reduced to just your little wife?" She asked with a small glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"I'll let you take care of anyone who says you are" He said with a serious look on his face.

The girl gave him a small smile, it was obvious that no one had ever believed in her the way Thomas was right now, that they all thought of her as some weak little girl and nothing more.

"Fine, I'll marry you" She said as she looked up at him with a small smile. 

Thomas wrapped her arm in his and led her out of the Garrison. He held the bottom of her white dress up away from the dirt as he walked them back to the church. 

“You know, you’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding.” She said to him with a small laugh. “It’s bad luck.” 

“I won’t let anything ruin this marriage, trust me.” He said as he opened the church door for her and let her walk in first. Thomas watched as her family whisked her away, knowing that this girl was truly something he had never expected her to be, and he loved it.

[chiyuuchu]

Who the hell would buy a Labubu? <3 (3rd November 2024)

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Prompt! Bakugou overhears his crush whining over wanting a Labubu and goes out of his way for it

The cafeteria was shrouding with the latest trend: Labubu figures. Everywhere you looked, someone seemed to be talking about them, pulling up pictures on their phones, or showing off new additions to their collections. The Bakusquad was no exception.

“Dude, have you seen these things?” Kaminari said, scrolling through his phone and shoving it in Bakugou’s direction. “They’re called Labubu. Apparently, they’re, like, the hottest thing right now.”

Bakugou gave the screen a disgusted look, raising an eyebrow at the tiny creature with big, weird eyes and a goofy grin. “What the hell is that? And who’d pay that much for something so ugly?”

Kirishima chuckled, trying to explain. “I dunno, man, it’s kinda cute in a strange way. People are obsessed with them. They’re even blind boxes, so you don’t know which one you’re gonna get until you open it.”

Bakugou scoffed. “So you’re telling me people are throwing cash away on some creepy-looking gremlin they don’t even get to choose? That’s dumb.”

Just as he was shaking his head, he heard a familiar laugh nearby. He glanced over to see Y/N with a few of the other girls, chatting excitedly, and his ears perked up when he caught her mention the word “Labubu.”

“I’ve wanted one for ages,” Y/N said, her eyes sparkling as she spoke. “Especially the pink one, Dada. It’s so cute! I’ve tried to find it, but it’s sold out everywhere.”

Mina nodded enthusiastically. “They’re hard to get your hands on right now. But I bet you’ll find one soon, Y/N! They’re so you.”

Bakugou’s eyebrows knitted together as he watched her. He didn’t get the appeal of those weird little figures, but seeing Y/N light up while talking about it stirred something he couldn’t quite ignore.

Turning back to his friends, he scowled even harder. “It’s still ugly,” he muttered, though now his mind was racing with the thought of Y/N smiling with one of those creepy toys in her hands.

He didn’t get the appeal, but… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try finding one for her anyway.

Bakugou pushed through the door of the specialty store, the bell jingling above him. He took a quick glance around, noting the colorful shelves lined with various Labubu figures. Each one looked weirder than the last, and he scowled at the thought of spending money on such ridiculous toys.

“Can I help you?” the cashier asked, her friendly tone grating on his nerves.

“Yeah, I need one of those Labubu things,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Which one?” she replied, eyeing him curiously.

“Uh, the pink one. The Dada,” he muttered, trying to sound casual.

“Oh! That one’s really popular,” she said, her eyes brightening. “But it’s a blind box, so you won’t know if you get it until you open it.”

Bakugou frowned, the frustration boiling in his chest. “What do you mean? How the hell am I supposed to know if I get the pink one?”

“It’s random,” she explained, shrugging. “You can buy one box, but there’s no guarantee.”

He huffed, feeling the pressure of time ticking away. Y/N had been talking about wanting a Labubu for weeks, and if he was going to do this, he wanted to make sure he got the right one. “Fine, give me six.”

The cashier blinked in surprise. “You want a bulk pack?”

“Just give me the damn boxes!” he snapped, not wanting to waste time debating. The thought of Y/N’s smile pushed him to act, no matter how ridiculous it seemed.

After paying for the bulk pack, he exited the store, the weight of the bag heavy in his hands. He couldn’t help but feel a mix of embarrassment and determination as he headed back to the dorm.

Once he got inside, Bakugou tossed the bag onto his bed and unzipped it, revealing the six colorful Labubu boxes inside. He could feel a sense of anticipation building up in him. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, grabbing the first box.

With each box he opened, his heart raced. The first one revealed a bright green Labubu with silly eyes. “Nope,” he said, tossing it aside.

He tore through the second box, revealing a blue one. “Not it either,” he grumbled, throwing it next to the first.

The third box contained a purple Labubu, which only added to his growing annoyance. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, grabbing the fourth box.

As he opened the fourth, a yellow Labubu stared back at him, and he groaned loudly. “Why is this so hard?”

He moved to the fifth box, desperate for a win. But it only brought another bizarre figure. “Are you kidding me?!” he shouted, tossing it aside in frustration.

Finally, he reached the last box, his heart pounding with hope. He ripped it open, pulling the figure out slowly.

As the pink Labubu came into view, his breath hitched. “Yes! Finally!” he exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement. It was the Dada Labubu, the one Y/N had wanted the most.

Bakugou quickly shoved the figure back into its box, a grin spreading across his face. He couldn’t wait to see Y/N’s reaction when he surprised her with it.

“Now I just have to figure out how to give this to her without making it weird,” he murmured, already plotting the perfect moment to reveal his secret.

Class 1-A was buzzing with excitement and chatter during lunch, but Bakugou barely noticed. All he could focus on was the small, carefully wrapped box sitting in his bag, and his heart was beating a little faster than he wanted to admit.

He glanced across the classroom at Y/N, who was laughing with Mina, and felt a surge of warmth he tried hard to ignore. For weeks, she’d been talking nonstop about how she couldn’t find a Labubu figure anywhere. She’d checked every store, every website, but they were sold out, leaving her heartbroken and, to his quiet dismay, a bit gloomy.

Bakugou had found himself listening to her without meaning to, her excitement and disappointment lingering in his mind longer than he’d expected. After a while, he couldn’t shake it; he’d gotten up, practically stormed through every store he could think of, and, by some miracle, found the last Labubu in stock. It was ridiculous how much effort he’d gone through—but he’d done it. For her.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up, box in hand. The class quieted as they noticed him crossing the room, eyes widening in surprise when he stopped in front of Y/N’s desk.

“Bakugou?” she asked, looking up at him with a puzzled smile.

He held out the box, clearing his throat as he forced himself to meet her gaze. “Here. Since you wouldn’t shut up about it.”

Her eyes widened, realization dawning as she carefully took the box from his hands, hands slightly trembling. “Wait… no way…”

“Yeah, it’s that damn Labubu you kept going on about,” he muttered, his voice softer than usual. “Figured you’d be happier if you had it.”

Her expression shifted from disbelief to awe as she looked at him, her face lighting up in a way that made his heart stutter. She opened the box slowly, as if savoring the moment, and when she saw the figure, her eyes filled with happiness and something else—a warmth that made his face feel unexpectedly hot.

“Bakugou… thank you,” she whispered, her voice gentle, like he was seeing a side of her she usually kept hidden. She bit her lip, staring at the Labubu and then back at him. “I can’t believe you actually found it. I’ve wanted this for so long, and you… you really did this for me?”

“Don’t get any ideas,” he grumbled, looking away, his cheeks dusted pink. “It was just… annoying to hear you complain about it every day.”

But she only laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re really sweet, you know that?”

The class, watching the exchange, started to murmur, sharing knowing glances and grins. Kaminari leaned over to Kirishima, whispering, “Dude, Bakugou’s totally got it bad.”

“Shut up, idiots!” Bakugou barked, his voice snapping the class back into silence, but the embarrassment only made him redder.

Y/N giggled, and without thinking, she stepped closer and hugged him, burying her face against his shoulder. “Thank you, Bakugou. Really. This means so much to me.”

He froze, feeling the warmth of her arms around him, and for a split second, all his defenses melted away. His hand hovered before he slowly placed a palm on her head, just for a moment. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, only for her to hear.

When she pulled away, her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes sparkled with joy. “Guess I owe you one now, huh?”

“Tch, whatever,” he muttered, but his gaze softened as he watched her. “Just… don’t lose it, alright?”

She nodded, clutching the figure to her chest. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“Open it,” he said, crossing his arms, trying to look indifferent. “If you’re lucky, it’ll be the one you wanted, right?”

She grinned, carefully unwrapping the box with everyone watching, the anticipation building in the air. The class waited with bated breath as she peeled back the top, lifting out the mystery figure. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she slowly unwrapped it, revealing…

A flash of pink fur.

She gasped, holding up the tiny pink Labubu figure—Dada. It was the exact one she’d been hoping for, the one she’d mentioned every time the topic came up.

The girls beside her all gasped.

“No way! It’s Dada! The pink one!” she squealed, looking up at him with a mixture of shock and happiness. “Bakugou, this is the one I wanted most!”

He shrugged, fighting a smirk. “Guess you got lucky, then.”

She stared at the figure, clearly overwhelmed, then met his eyes with a soft smile that made his heart skip. “Thank you, Bakugou. Really. This is perfect.”

The class burst into soft laughter and teasing whispers, and Kirishima nudged him with a grin. “Aw, man, you really went all out!”

Bakugou scowled, looking away to hide the warmth creeping up his face. “I just wanted some peace and quiet, alright?”

But Y/N only laughed, cradling her Dada Labubu, and gave him a look that told him she saw right through him. And, just this once, Bakugou didn’t mind.

After the excitement of lunch had settled and the class had dispersed, Bakugou found himself sitting alone in his room, staring at the collection of Labubu boxes he still had. He’d returned home with the six he’d bought, but after seeing Y/N’s joy, he hadn’t had the heart to keep the rest.

He picked up the boxes one by one, contemplating what to do with them. They were all the same—a mix of colors and characters he couldn’t remember the names of, each one just as bizarre as the last. He scowled, trying to shake off the thought that maybe he could just toss them or give them to someone else.

With a sigh, he stood and marched over to Y/N’s room, rapping his knuckles against her door. “Hey! You in there?”

A muffled voice called back, “Yeah, just a second!” The sound of shuffling filled the air before the door swung open to reveal Y/N, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Uh… I was thinking.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding her gaze. “I don’t know what to do with these,” he said, gesturing to the boxes. “So, here.”

He shoved them into her arms, watching as her eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, what? Bakugou, are you serious?” She looked down at the colorful boxes, clearly taken aback.

“Yeah, yeah. Just take them. I don’t want them.” He shrugged, trying to play it cool even though he felt a rush of warmth at seeing her so happy.

Y/N laughed in disbelief as she glanced at the boxes, her heart racing with excitement. “But… these are all so expensive! Are you sure you don’t want them?”

“Does it look like I want them?” Bakugou snapped, but he didn’t mean to sound harsh. “I already got you the pink one. Just take them, dammit!”

She was still processing, her mind racing with thoughts. “I can’t believe you’re giving me all of these. Bakugou, this is so generous of you!”

He scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. “Don’t go making it weird. I just didn’t want to deal with them.”

But as she looked up at him, her smile genuine and bright, he felt something shift in his chest. “Wait, you’re keeping the yellow one, right?”

Bakugou blinked, the question catching him off guard. “What? No, I just—”

“Wait, you like Labubu?” she asked, tilting her head with a teasing grin.

“W-What? No!” He turned red, the rush of embarrassment hitting him like a tidal wave. “I mean, it’s just… it’s growing on me, okay?”

She laughed, clearly enjoying his flustered state. “Yeah, right! Just admit it! You like them.”

“Shut up!” he barked, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward against his will.

“You do! I knew it!” she teased, playfully nudging him.

Bakugou huffed, turning his head away, but deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, those weird little figures weren’t so bad after all. Not when they made her smile like that.

The next day, the sun shone brightly over U.A. as Bakugou made his way to class, still riding the high of Y/N's delighted reaction to her pink Labubu. But as he entered the classroom, the teasing atmosphere hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Look who’s proud of his new friend!” Kaminari called out, pointing at Bakugou’s backpack, where the yellow Labubu dangled from a clip. “Nice one, Bakugou! Is that your pet now?”

Bakugou glared at him, scowling as he rolled his eyes. “Shut the hell up, you idiot. It’s just a stupid thing.”

“Stupid?!” Kirishima laughed, leaning over to get a better look. “You’re the one who bought six of them! And now you’ve got one clipped to your bag? Sounds like you’re a fan!”

“Just because I bought one doesn’t mean I’m a fan!” Bakugou snapped, the heat rising in his cheeks. “I’m just making sure it doesn’t get lost, dumbass.”

Just then, Y/N walked in, her own bag swinging at her side, the pink Labubu proudly displayed as it dangled from the strap. The moment her classmates spotted her, the teasing escalated.

“Hey, Y/N! Looks like you and Bakugou have matching accessories!” Mina chimed in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Isn’t that adorable?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed as she smiled, glancing over at Bakugou, who was scowling like he was about to explode. “I guess so! I mean, he found it for me after all,” she said, her tone light and playful.

Bakugou tried to suppress the grin that threatened to break through as Y/N beamed at him, but his friends weren’t having it.

“Aww, Bakugou! You two are, like, Labubu buddies now!” Kaminari teased, wiggling his eyebrows. “Next thing we know, you’ll be collecting them together!”

“Shut up!” Bakugou growled, though the edge of his voice was dulled by a hint of embarrassment. “It’s just a coincidence!”

“Yeah, right,” Kirishima chuckled. “I can see it now: ‘Bakugou and Y/N, the ultimate Labubu collectors!’”

“Ugh! Just drop it already!” Bakugou shouted, crossing his arms defensively. He tried to focus on the board, but he could feel Y/N’s gaze on him, a mix of amusement and something softer that made his heart race.

As the laughter and teasing continued, Y/N stepped closer to Bakugou, a playful glint in her eye. “You know, I think you look cute with your little Labubu,” she said, her voice teasing yet sincere. “And it really suits you.”

Bakugou’s cheeks burned, and he turned away quickly, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Tch! It’s not cute! It’s just… it’s just practical!”

But Y/N’s laughter echoed in his ears, and as he caught her smile, he couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading in his chest. Maybe having the yellow Labubu wasn’t so bad after all.

[rafesbabyg1rl]

The Watcher ~ Part Three

Part One, Part Two

Summary: Rafe Cameron x Reader, Stalker!Rafe x Pogue!Reader Your parents work late on Friday nights, which you spend alone. Except you haven't been alone in a long time, not that you know of at least. Rafe has watched for years, he's very good at it. His idea of staying an anonymous stalker is ruined when you catch him in your bedroom one Friday night. Rafe has to figure out how to fix his mistake before he loses the only thing that makes his life worth living. After an unexpected visit to Tannyhill, you stalker comes up with a plan to make you his. But, will you be able to execute it just as he planned?

Warnings: Rafe stalks reader...that's literally the plot. Strong & descriptive language, suggestive themes, death threat(?), manipulation, kidnapping (?). If I missed anything from this part that I should include in the warnings, please let me know!

Word Count: 4.5k

Author Note: Part Three has arrived! I still am unsure if I like where the story is going, but we'll see. Also I'm getting so IMPATIENT and horny while writing this and it's literally killing me. Please share your thoughts about this part and ideas for future parts. Thank you all for the support on this story. I am very pleasantly surprised with how everyone has reacted to it. So, please enjoy and feel free to leave feedback! I love you all, thank you so much!! Stay freaky y'all.

CREDITS: The foundation of this fic was heavily inspired by/ based off of one of @faiszt 's bots on character ai. So, if you like this and you like character ai, I greatly suggest that you check out the bot!

“Okay, you remember the plan, yeah? You know what you’re supposed to do?” Rafe speaks as you look out of the passenger window of his truck. 

You turn back to face him before speaking. “Y-yeah I know.” You nod, turning back to look out of the window and at your house across the street from the parked truck. “I have to tell them…” You pause, getting choked up. “I have to tell them that I’m moving out.” You turn back to look at him, your eyes watery. “I can’t…they’re gonna know–”

Rafe clenches his fists around the steering wheel and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “No, baby they’re not gonna know. Because you’re not gonna let them know, alright? And you sure as shit aren’t gonna try anything are you?”

You frantically shake your head, “No…no I’m not gonna try anything…’promise.” You pause. “It…it’s just…what if they don’t believe me? I can’t–I can’t tell them I’m moving out with someone I’ve never even mentioned to them.”

“Hey…hey, you’re an adult yeah? They can’t do shit baby. They don’t have a choice, you’re mine.” His words cause an icy shiver to roll down your spine. Though even you know that your parents aren’t going to protest you living with the richest, most successful man in the Outer Banks, besides from his father…which everyone has heard about. The saint turned murderer who died last year. Like father, like son, you think to yourself. The incident was all over the news, you’re surprised you didn’t recognize the Cameron son sooner, his face had to be everywhere when all that went down. 

But why would your parents care, all you do is cost them more money. They’ve been trying to get you out of the house for months. 

“Y-yeah…” You respond, looking back out the dark, tinted window towards your house. “I-I’m ready.” You put your hand on the door handle, waiting for him to unlock it so you can exit his truck.  

“You have an hour. Don’t make me come inside.” Rafe’s hand moves over the driver door and he presses a button, causing your door to unlock with a click. You nod and exit the vehicle, cautiously walking across the street and towards your front door. Upon entering your home, you take a deep breath to try and keep your emotions in check. No matter how much you wish your parents would notice something is very wrong, you know that would only bite you in the ass. The best thing you can do is make sure this all goes according to plan. 

“Mom?” You call out, slowly walking down the entry hallway. “Mom? Dad?” You try again, speaking more confidently this time.

“Yeah, in here!” You hear your mom call out from the living room. As you enter the room, you see your parents watching TV. Your mother with a drink in her hand, laid back on the couch with her legs crossed and your father reclined in the chair, a beer in his hand. You glance down at the floor beside the recliner and spot several empty beer cans. Great, just great.

“Hey…” You say sheepishly. “How’s the bar?”, you ask, more casually. 

Your mom glances over at your father, assuming that since he hasn’t even turned his head away from the TV, she’s going to have to answer you. As she turns her head back to look at you, she sips on her drink. She licks her lips and clears her throat before drawing her attention to you. “It was fine”, she mutters your name before taking another sip of her drink. “Same as always. What’ve you been up to?” She asks, not even trying to pretend like she actually cares about what you have to say next. 

As you open your mouth to speak, your father cuts you off; still not looking away from the TV. “Get a damn job yet? Or were you just out fucking off again, hm? You’re too goddamn old to be living under my roof for free. You don’t do shit. You’re gonna start paying your fucking dues.” He snaps, finishing off his beer before tossing it to the ground aside, clattering into the others. “I need a beer.” He mutters. Without hesitation you walk over to the kitchen. You open the fridge door, staring into it as you get lost in your thoughts for a moment, eyes immediately watering. You shouldn’t even be upset, it’s not like you expected anything more. But you did have the slightest hope that maybe they didn’t drink so much today and they’d actually be able to tell that something is terribly wrong. 

Quickly you snap yourself out of your thoughts, grabbing a beer from the fridge and heading back into the living room, handing it to your dad. You take a few steps back, taking a breath to calm yourself. “I told you I–”, you start before your father interrupts you. 

“You’re gonna ‘go back to school to get a good job’. Bull. Shit. y/n. Bullshit.”

You fight back the tears in your eyes. Even though you’re used to the drunken crap your father is constantly spewing, his words still always manage to get to you; especially now when you actually need your parents. After a moment, you move to face both parents, looking more at your mother; she’s easier to speak to. 

“A-actually…” You start, looking down at your feet and fiddling with your fingers. “I wanted to tell you t-that I-I’m moving out…” You wait a few seconds to steady your breathing and let your words sink in before looking back up. Your father has turned in his chair to face you and your mother looked up at you from her spot on the couch. 

“About damn time.” Your father speaks.

Your mother replies next, “Where?” 

You look back at your feet, watching how they kick at the ground as you speak, “In…into Tannyhill. The Cameron's place.” You mumble, not wanting to look up, fearing that they’ll see right through you. Even though you know you’re just paranoid, there’s no way they’ll pay enough attention to you to notice something is wrong.

“Didn’t they move after what happened to Ward?” Your mother asks.

Your dad adds, “After Ward killed a shit ton of folks and then himself.” 

You ignore your fathers words, looking up at your mother, only taking brief glances over at your father while you speak. “Uhh no, no…not all of them.” Your hand lightly scratches at the back of your head. “Rafe, the son,” you clarify, trying to seem as though you are telling a casual story; like you’re telling the truth. “Yeah, uh…he actually took over Cameron Development and he still lives in the house.”

“What the hell you doin’ with a Cameron?” Your mother questions sternly. Her attention is taken away from you as your father barks her name.

“Fucks’ it matter?” He speaks to her before looking over at you again. “He’s letting you move in? He’ll pay for your lazy ass, yeah?”

You look at your dad and give him a nod, watching as he takes another swig of his beer can as you mutter, “Y-yes.”

 He swallows hard, pursing his lips. “Then go on, get outta here.” He exclaims before looking back to the TV as though nothing happened. 

You answer your moms question from earlier, “Rafe…h-he’s a friend of mine. He said he’s got so much extra space and he can help me find a good job out on figure eight; y’know, hook me up with some people, I guess he put a word in for me or somethin’.” You lie, pleased with yourself as you manage to get out the last word without breaking character. 

“S’long as you’re not costin’ us no more money.” She replies, getting up from the couch and heading into the kitchen to refill her glass of wine. 

You stand there for a moment, before your dad speaks again, “And when you come crawling back, you ain’t stayin’ for free.” 

You let out a small, broken sigh, “yeah”. You exit the living room, heading to your bedroom. As you pass by the kitchen you momentarily stop and speak to your mother who’s currently trying to open up a new bottle of wine. “I’m gonna pack a bag…I’m leaving tonight.”

You know the time is ticking, that you probably don’t have much of your hour left. You grab your biggest duffel bag from underneath your bed and start frantically filling it. It’s hard to pack though because, what are you supposed to bring to move in with your psycho stalker? You pack some hoodies and sweats, some of your baggiest jeans, oversized t-shirts, large pj pants, really just making sure all the clothes you packed were the least revealing things you could find. After all, you weren’t sure what was in store for you. And you sure as hell weren’t gonna make it that easy for him to get what he wants. You packed some personal hygiene products and toiletries, an extra pair of shoes, and whatever else you think you may need. Before walking out of your bedroom, you glance around and scan for anything you might’ve missed. You end up grabbing your favorite blanket and shoving it into your bag; something that might help give you comfort at your new home, something to keep the monsters out at night. And finally, you tuck your ‘sleeping’ pills into your bag. They’re the only thing that’s been able to help you sleep these past few weeks. And slowly your dosage continues to increase.

Stepping out of your bedroom, you shut your door behind you. You stand in the hallway, taking a deep breath which causes a tear to fall down your cheek. You wipe the tear and head back into your living room. You set down your bag and walk over to the couch, sitting beside your mom. 

Turning to face her, you whisper, “I’m leaving now, mom.”

“Okay sweetie.” She nods, this really isn’t a big deal for her. She thinks you’re just moving out like a typical young adult. But you know the truth. You know, or rather you don’t know what the future has in store for you or when the next time you’ll be able to see your family again is; if he lets you see them again. 

You lean in and give your mom a hug, she immediately hugs back seeing as you two never hug. You pray that this doesn’t raise any suspicion in her. When you stand up from the couch, you walk over to stand by your fathers chair. “Bye Dad, I’m leaving now.” You say, trying to keep your normal emotionless, cold tone with him. 

“Yeah, okay, bye.” He waves you off, wanting you to move out of his view of the television. 

You go and grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder again. Before exiting the room and leaving, you turn back to your parents, “Bye, see you later.” You lie. Well, technically it’s not a lie because you aren’t even sure of the answer yourself.

As you walk out of the front door, you hear each of them mutter some form of a goodbye just before the door shuts behind you. You look up and glance across the street, seeing Rafe’s truck still sitting there parked; still running. As you slowly walk towards it, he rolls his darkly tinted window down just enough that you can see his eyes as they watch you intently. You’re hit with shivers that roll from the top of your spine to the tip of your toes as you walk around to the passenger side of his truck and open the back door, tossing your bag on the seats before climbing into the front passenger seat. 

You can feel his searing vision on you as you buckle your seatbelt and proceed to stare silently out in front of yourself. He mutters your name, causing you to hesitantly turn to look at him. 

“How’d it go?” He asks.

“Well clearly I’m here so…” You say, unsure of where your sarcastic attitude came from. You hope this isn’t enough to set him off. Judging by his ragged breath, the chances aren’t great. 

Rafe just shakes his head, a small smirk forming on his face as he lets out a huff, “yeah…you’re here baby.” It’s hard to tell whether or not he’s pissed off or not. You curse his quickly transforming moods. He doesn’t say anything else before putting the truck into drive and spinning out of your neighborhood. The drive from the cut back to figure eight is dreadful and silent. 

When you do finally reach Tannyhill and Rafe parks in the driveway, he’s the first to exit the vehicle as he grabs your duffle bag from the backseat, rounding the truck to open your door. You instinctively mumble a small ‘thank you’ to him, immediately feeling embarrassed before realizing that maybe being extra kind will make him go easier on you. All he does is chuckle in response as he walks behind you to his front door. When Rafe gets the door unlocked, he lets you walk inside first as he follows closely behind. He locks the door and leads you upstairs and down the hall. Reaching inside his pocket, Rafe pulls out another key which he uses to unlock a random hallway door. Once he gets it open, he enters the room and sets your bag down on the bed.

 He turns back to look at you as you stand in the doorway. “This uh…” he scratches at the back of his buzzed head, appearing to be almost…nervous? “This is your room for the time being.” Rafe grins as he looks up at you. “Thought you’d be more comfortable in your own room for now.”

‘For now’, what the hell is that supposed to mean? You wonder, taking a step further inside the bedroom. You look around, but you don’t speak; you don’t know what you’d even say. You sit on the foot of the neatly made bed. He only stands in front of you, staring down, just watching you silently. Rafe is always doing that, watching. 

“Rafe…?” You murmur, turning your head slightly in his direction but keeping your eyes rooted on the floor. 

“Hm? What is it, baby?” Rafe’s brows further, his forehead slightly creasing. 

“I…w-what happens now?” You ask as you use your right hand to scratch at your left forearm, trying to keep yourself mentally present. 

Rafe steps closer to the bed, if you were to look up, you’d practically be face-to-face with his clothed cock. So you decide to spare the awkwardness of that and continue to stare at the ground below you.  

“Well,” he speaks. Before continuing, Rafe brings his hand up and uses his thumb and pointer finger to grip into your chin. He slightly tugs upward, forcing you to look up into his eyes. “You’re gonna stay here with me. I know baby, I know it’s hard. But, you’ll have some time to adjust, alright?” You nod and he lets go of your chin, but immediately moves to take the empty space on the bed. He sits next to you and he places his hand on your knee. “Hey,” he speaks softly and you turn to look at him. “This is our future and I know it’s scary, but it’s gonna be okay. Yeah?”

Future, you think. ‘This is our future’, you try to allow his words to break through to you, but your mind won’t let this sink in. This, whatever this is, was not supposed to be your future. Though you’re not totally sure what was meant to be your future, you just know it isn’t him. You’re supposed to meet someone who you know now, is not a psycho stalker and actually have a choice in what happens to you.

God, maybe your parents were right. Which you never thought would happen. But, if you had listened to them and had done more with your life, who knows, maybe you wouldn’t have ended up in this situation. But instead you pushed all responsibilities away, saving them for the ‘future’. You’ve spent your entire life waiting for something in your brain to switch and somehow make you capable of carrying responsibilities and do something with your life. And now, this is your punishment, it has to be. If you ever get out of this nightmare of a situation, you aren’t gonna sit around on your ass and wait for a handout anymore, you’re gonna change. But, that is only if you manage to escape from this hell. 

“Okay, baby?” The man next to you speaks, his thumb lightly running over the fabric of your jeans. His voice pulls you out from your endless void of thoughts, bringing you right back into the present. 

You respond, your voice shaky, “What do you want from me?” A salty, warm tear rolls out from the corner of your eye and down your cheek. “Baby, baby shhh, it’s okay. It’s alright. All I want is for us to be together, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.” He says in a tone that seems to indicate that he might just actually be sincere. The more you try to figure this man out, the more confused you get. But, if he really does care about you, that’s something you might just be able to work with.

“B-but…you are hurting me.” You say hesitantly, worried to see how this will play out. Immediately, his already light touch on your knee lightens even more to the point he’s barely making contact. 

“What? What do you mean? You’re okay.” 

“No…I just wanna go home, please.” The last word comes out in more of a whisper than anything else. Rafe’s eyes squeeze shut and he shakes his head, standing up. 

He begins to pace the room, you just follow him with his eyes. As Rafe paces, his fists repeatedly clench and unclench at his sides. Suddenly, he comes to a halt, turning to face you again. “You know I can’t let you do that.”

“Please…” You whimper in a pleading tone. Your voice full of emotion. He cocks his head to the side, amused as he watches you. Rafe takes a few steps closer, so he’s standing to the side of the bed once more. 

“Baby, there’s nothing to be so scared of. We’re gonna be so good. Just…just trust me.” He says, getting impatient with having to repeat this to you constantly.

“But…I don’t want this, please just take me back home.” Rafe’s expression goes dark, his shoulders relax like he’s just let something go.

“Go home? To do what? Huh?! You don’t do shit. I’m saving you baby. I’m saving you from your sad, pathetic life. I’m giving you everything you’ll ever need, baby. So no, you cannot go ‘home’. This is your home.” The man’s voice is stronger, meaner than before. At this point you don’t have enough courage left in you to fight this. You just sniffle and nod, wiping your tears. “This is our home.” 

As you sit there silently watching him but being careful not to make eye contact, he starts to unzip your duffel bag. You huff, “what, you gonna take the only things I have left now too?” 

He sighs, looking at you. “No.” Rafe begins to sort through your things, taking it all out of the bag one by one. “Just makin’ sure you didn’t get any stupid ideas.” He mumbles, not looking up from what he’s doing.

After he empties the contents of your bag out onto ‘your’ bed, he starts to go through it more carefully. You watch as he picks up a pair of your underwear, holding it up and looking at you. “What’s all this shit? You on your period or some shit? Thought that was earlier this month.” He huffs, tossing the item back down on the bed. He’s clearly frustrated by the fact that you purposely packed your ugliest and least revealing panties; which happen to be the ones you typically wear on your period. Which makes you think back to what he said, you realize he’s had to see you in your underwear often to know what kind you wear during a specific time of the month. You shiver.

Once he deems everything as safe, he puts it all back into the bag. Just as he picks up one of your hoodies, the bottle of your sleeping pills fall onto the bed. Rafe’s brows furrow and he picks up the bottle, reading the label. Once he identifies the content and the doseage, he makes a  tsk sound. He slips the bottle into his pocket and looks back up at you. “Can’t leave you with those now can I?” Rafe finishes re-packing your bag.

“I-I need those…to sleep.” Your words cause him to chuckle, confusing you. You don’t understand what he could possibly find funny in this situation, but then again you aren’t a sociopathic stalker. 

“Right.” He mumbles. “Nobody takes that much just to sleep.”

“Please, they…they help.” You aren’t lying. Your doctor put you onto some medication which you cannot pronounce, that almost immediately puts out your anxiety and helps you relax. The only thing is, you keep upping the dose, when really they worked just fine the first time. But, you like how they make you feel. And yeah, sometimes you might take them without reason, but only sometimes.

“I’m gonna hold onto them for a while baby. You’ll be fine.” He pauses before speaking again, this time with a slight smirk evident on his face, “I’m here if you need help sleeping.” He says cockily. “Yeah?” You don’t respond. You just stare at the floor. 

After a few moments of silence, his stares were getting uncomfortable. “Can I just be alone, please? I just…I wanna try and get some sleep. It’s been a long day.” You sigh. 

“You haven’t eaten today.” He states.

“Yeah…I-I’m not hungry.” Being kidnapped and forced to completely unroot your life to live with an unknown man definitely takes some effect on you, such as erasing your appetite. 

Rafe sighs and steps closer, sitting down next to you once more. “How do I know you aren’t gonna try anything?”  

“I haven’t tried anything yet have I? I haven’t told anyone about you, a-and I’ve done everything you’ve asked.” You plead.

Rafe makes another tsk sound as he shakes his head. “What were you doing at the sheriff's office today, hm? What was that?”

“I…I-” You aren’t sure what to say. If you lie, he’ll know. But you’re too afraid to tell him what you had planned on doing down at the station. 

“Don’t you ever try that again. Don’t even fucking think about trying it.” He pauses for a moment. Chuckling before he speaks again, “god, so stupid. You really thought they’d believe you? Over…over me?” He laughs.

“I…I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit,” he grabs your thigh firmly, making you gasp. “You know I hate when you lie to me…so why do you keep doing it?” He asks, searching in your eyes for the answer. “You’re only sorry you got caught.” He squeezes tighter.

You groan at his grip on your leg and the ache it’s causing. “R-Rafe…that hurts. Please…y-you’re hurting me.” Your words are followed by a quick gasp and a tear running down your face. 

Once Rafe’s eyes land on your tear, he lets go of your leg. “Shit, baby. I’m—I didn’t mean to.” Rafe moves his hand to rest comfortingly on your shoulder. Well, his idea of what a comforting hand is isn’t exactly comforting. But he doesn’t have much of an example to go off of. 

Before you can speak, he stands up and exits the room. You hear the door lock, and your eyes squeeze shut. You let your head fall into your hands and you just start to let it all out. For hours you sit there, crying until there’s no tears left. You just keep waiting and waiting for him to come back; you figure he wouldn’t leave you completely alone without supervision on your first night here. Except he never does. 

Eventually, you really do start to feel a bit tired. You lay down on the bed, on top of the covers. You use your pillow and your blanket from home. The smell of home still lingering on the items. Pulling the blanket over your head to feel safe, you eventually begin to fall asleep. 

When you wake, you’re still tucked away into your safe place. After recollecting your thoughts that had become jumbled from sleep, you pull the blanket off of your head. You squint from the bright light that shines through the window. Once your eyes have adjusted, you take a moment to scan over your surroundings. The bedroom looks like that of a hotel room. Well, not like any hotel you’ve ever been to. The mansion is slightly more vintage and elegant than those of the typical kooks; it’s not as simple and modern. If you weren’t being held captive in it, you may even admire it. 

As much as you’d love to stay curled up under your blanket. Nature calls and you can’t ignore it. You sit up from the bed and quietly step over to the door. Shit. The doors locked, you forgot.

“Hey!” You call out. “Rafe? Let me out!” Faintly, you can hear commotion from the floor below you. While you wait, you look around the room a bit more. There’s another door, you open it expecting it to be a closet, but it’s a bathroom. Wow, you definitely feel dumb now.

After taking care of things, you exit the bathroom. You jump back when you finally look up from your feet to see Rafe standing in the room. 

“Goodmorning, baby.” He smiles. “How’d you sleep?”

You start walking towards the bed, sitting back down and covering your body with your blanket. All you do in response is shake your head.

“Hungry yet?” He asks, sitting at the foot of the bed and resting his hand on your calf, rubbing over it through your blanket. 

You shake your head again.

Rafe sighs, “y’know I’d really appreciate some words?” He says softly.

“No, I’m not hungry.”

“Okay.” He tucks his lips in and nods a bit. “Suit yourself then. I’ll be back later, I guess. …Unless you don’t want me to go?” He asks hopefully.

“Am I supposed to just stay locked up in here all day?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“Well,” Rafe pauses to lick his lips before continuing. “You’re the one who I can’t trust.” He takes his hand off of your leg and stands up. “Just…just give it time baby, you’ll come around. I know you will.” It’s obvious that he’s not even sure about whether or not he’s trying to convince you or himself with his words. 

Without another word, Rafe exits the room, locking the door. Again, you cover yourself with the blanket and let it engulf you. You close your eyes and imagine that you’re in your own bed at home. 

To be continued...

Thank you for reading! I hope this was enjoyable. If you have literally ANY feedback, questions, or suggestions, PLEASE feel free to let me know! I don't really have any solid plans for this fic so if you have any ideas, I just might include them in future parts. And there's not much I won't write!

[quintessenceofdust88]

Life is Changin' Tides 🌊

There's a tsunami going on. Tommy is at work and thinks his daughter is safe and away from it. She's not, but there's a guardian angel watching over her.

(okay y'all, here's the first chapter of tsunami fic, now put together, edited and finished! Originally it's only meant to be 3 chapters, but who knows? Certainly not me hehe. I hope you like it! 💙💙)

There is water everywhere, and Tommy has never seen anything like it. The Saint Monica pier is completely submerged and, from the chopper, he can barely see the tip of the Ferris wheel. There are red boats from the LAFD scattered around, and the air ops have been ordered to hover around and await for further instructions.

“Wow” His co-pilot, a probie named Monroe, exclaims. He's looking down at the wreckage, and Tommy imagines it's the first time he comes across something like this. “I was at the pier with my girlfriend just last week, can you believe that?”

“I know what you mean”, Tommy says distractedly, bringing the chopper closer to the chore with an eye out for light beacons or other signs of someone looking for help. “I brought my daughter here three days ago”

“Aw, man, you have a daughter? I didn't know that!” Monroe says, and Tommy can't help but smile a little as the face of his five-year-old comes to mind.

“Yeah, Genevieve. She's five” He says, fidgeting with the controls to gain some attitude on the bird to make sure they’re not missing anything “We were supposed to come back to the pier next Saturday, she saw this unicorn plushie and I promised to try to win it for her next time”

“Guess you’ll just have to buy it somewhere else” He says, and Tommy chuckles, already imagining how Vivie would react to that.

“Nah, Vivie would say it’s not the same because we didn’t win it. She’s too smart for her own good; well, actually for my own good”

Tommy realizes this is the most he’s talked to the probie ever since they started working together a few weeks ago. Trust him to turn into a chatterbox when the best thing in his life is involved.

“Yeah, I get you, I have a seven-year old son who’s already smarter than me” He says, and a fond smile takes over his face; Tommy is pretty sure he looks besotted just like that whenever he talks about his daughter. “It’s good to know they’re safe when we’re out there like this, isn’t it?”

“Yeah” Tommy easily agrees, his eyes scanning the water for people moving; unfortunately, there isn’t much they can do for those who stopped moving, at least not until the water goes down.

Vivie is with her uncle Sal today, and Tommy’s pretty sure she’s having the time of her life. Sal lives far away from the shore, so he knows he has nothing to worry about, which lets him focus on the task at hand.

If he had to worry about Genevieve in the middle of all this, he’s pretty sure he would have crashed his helicopter already.

–

It's nearing sunset when Captain Williams sends orders for Tommy and Monroe to go down. Between hazard recognition and air rescues, they've been on and off for ten hours, and now they're mandated to take a break. Tommy's shift is over by now, and he'd probably offer to stay if necessary, but he can't; Sal's probably itching to go to his own station and help out, and Tommy's itching to see Vivie. He's rescued his fair share of children, and it's making him want to have his own safe in his arms and under her llama blanket.

Tommy changes into his civies, and for the first time in the day, has time to check his phone. When he sees seventeen missed calls from an unknown number, the last one less than ten minutes ago, a chill runs down his spine. In any day, this could mean something bad, but today? Monumentally bad.

As he's gathering the courage to return the call, his phone rings again, and it's the same number. With trembling hands, Tommy picks up.

“H-hello, this is Kinard” He says weakly.

“Mr. Kinard? I am calling from a field hospital that's been raised for the tsunami victims. Are you familiar with a Mr. Salvatore de Luca? We found your number as the last called on his cellphone”

Tommy recalls the phone call they had this morning before he dropped Vivie off at Sal's house, and his heart skips a beat, a rising sense of panic taking over his chest.

“Y-yes, I'm familiar. What's his situation? And Genevieve's?” Tommy cuts to the chase, his hand gripping the phone like a lifeline.

“Mr. Salvatore was brought to us unconscious and with a head injury, Mr. Kinard. We have patched up the wound, but he hasn't woken up yet. We think he might feel more comfortable if you are here when he does”

Tommy's panic doesn't subside, not even a little bit. Sal is hurt enough to be unconscious, and Tommy desperately wants to rush to his side, but first he needs to know…

“Right, I'm on my way, but how is Genevieve?” He asks, his car keys in his hand already. Monroe, who's in the locker room as well, frowns at him when he notices Tommy's rush. “My daughter who was with Sal. Is she okay?”

The woman takes time to answer. Too long. Long enough that Tommy assumes the worst, his breath becoming quick paced and erratic.

“Mr. Kinard, I am so sorry, but Mr. De Luca was found alone. There was no child with him”

Tommy is not aware of how he ended the call. Next thing he knows, he's sitting on the locker room bench, with Monroe giving light taps to his face.

“Kinard, are you with me?! Kinard!” He exclaims, his voice panicked, and Tommy blinks up at him, still in shock.

“I'm fine. I'm fine” Tommy tells him, his voice hoarse and sounding like it's coming from miles away.

“You scared me for a minute there, man” He says, his eyes widened. “What happened?”

What happened is that Tommy's world has just crumbled from one minute to the next. Sal must be severely hurt. And Vivie is missing.

Genevieve, his little girl, the love of his life, was caught in a tsunami, and the best case scenario is that she's lost in the LA streets all alone, scared and maybe hurt. And the worst case scenario… no. Tommy can't even think of it. Just the thought of it is enough to make his heart fill with despair.

“I… I gotta go” He tells Monroe, getting up once he's sure his legs won't give out from under him, moving towards the door.

“Woah, woah, Kinard” Monroe puts a hand on his shoulder. “I'm not letting you leave like this, man, you look like you've seen a ghost”

Tommy takes his hand off his shoulder, urgency creeping up on his chest.

“I have to go” He says again, more forcefully this time, a slight tremble on his voice. “It's my daughter”

“What about your daughter?!” Monroe asks urgently, but Tommy doesn't have time to explain. “Kinard, you're not telling me… you said she was safe!”

Tommy closes his eyes at those words, willing the tears of fear and regret away. She was supposed to be safe; he doesn't know how or why Vivie and Sal ended up getting caught in the tsunami, but he needs to find them.

“I thought she was” He admits. “But I will find her”

Monroe looks at him, and an understanding passes between them. The man nods at him, squeezing Tommy's shoulder.

“I… I'd offer to go with you, but you know I might be needed here”

“I know. Thank you anyway”

“Good luck out there, Kinard. I… I hope she'll be okay”

“She will be” Tommy says, more to himself than to Monroe, and then he's gone, rushing to his car in a heartbeat.

And Tommy is not a man of faith, but at this point he can only hope some kind of guardian angel finds his daughter and keeps her safe.

—

Buck is exhausted.

His leg hurts, his mouth tastes like sea water, he has no idea if what’s running down his face is water, sweat or blood, and he needs to sleep. Good God, he needs to sleep.

But he can’t. He has to find Chris. He’s his responsibility, and he has to find him. He has no idea how long he’s been looking, but he won’t stop for anything until he finds him, not unless he’s dead.

“Help! Help!” Buck hears a small voice that makes him stop in his tracks. It sounds like a child; a young child at that, definitely younger than Chris, probably a girl.

“Hello?!” He calls back, his ears trained to listen to the voice again and locate where it’s coming from. In this region where he is now the water has gone down to ankle level, but there is a lot of rubble around.

“Hello?! Help me, please!” The child calls again, and Buck looks around until he spots her, stranded on top of a ruined pick-up truck, a few feet away from him. Buck rushes to her; she’s not too above him, he will probably be able to catch her no problem, even with his arms stinging from exhaustion as they are.

It’s indeed a little girl, she can’t be older than six; her light yellow summer dress is wet and covered in grime and leaves, and so is her hair which is styled in two well done pigtails; her arms are wrapped around a bright unicorn plushie. She’s looking down at him, her deep blue eyes filled with fear, a few tears running down her red cheeks. It breaks Buck’s heart.

“Hey!” Buck says; he doesn’t see any injuries, but he won’t move her until he’s sure. “I’m gonna help you, ok? Are you hurt?”

“N-no…” She tells him with a sniffle. “But Uncle Sal is, and the water took him, and I didn’t see him anymore! And…. And I wanted to go after him, but Daddy always says I should wait for rescue if bad things happen!...”

She’s starting to cry again, and Buck thanks the universe for whoever is the sensible parent of this child, because even if she isn’t hurt now, she would be if she had tried to get down on her own.

“Okay, kiddo, first of all let’s get you down here safely. Then you can tell me about your uncle Sal, alright? What’s your name?” He asks her.

“Genevieve Kinard” She recites dutifully. “But you can call me Vivie”

Buck has the faintest impression there's something familiar about that name, but he shakes it off, not having time to think about it right now. He nods at her with what he hopes is a kind smile even though exhaustion is starting to creep its way into him once again. He’s losing precious time in his search for Chris, but he can’t just abandon a little child; he knows that, if someone found Chris in the middle of all of this, he’d want them to keep him safe.

“Okay, Vivie. I'm Evan, but you can call me Buck” He tells her, and then raises his arms toward her. “Alright, Vivie, you’re gonna have to be super brave, because I'm gonna ask you to jump, and then I'll catch you. Do you think you can do that?”

It wouldn't be unreasonable for her to be scared; the situation is stressful, and the top of a pick-up must feel quite high for a little girl. But she nods without hesitation, scooching closer to the edge of the pick-up and looking down at him.

“Kinda like playing toss?” She asks, and Buck can only assume that’s a game someone plays with her, and he hopes to God it’s similar to what he’s planning to do.

“Yeah, kiddo, kinda like playing toss. Are you ready?” He asks, and Genevieve nods at him. However, when she prepares for jumping, she whimpers and scooches back, her plushie still firmly in her arms.

“It… It’s scary, mr. Evan” She says, her voice trembling.

“I know, Vivie, I know it’s scary, honey” He says, frantically thinking of a way to help her feel more comfortable. “Here, let’s do it like this: why don’t you throw me your unicorn friend first? Then you’ll see it’s safe. How’s that?”

She looks at the plushie and back at him, a small whimper escaping her lips, and she hugs it close, shaking her head.

“I… I want uncle Sal” She says with a small sob. “I want my Daddy!”

Buck is on the verge of despair. They can’t be wasting time; there hasn’t been another wave for hours, but the way things have been, he doesn’t entirely discard it, and he wants to find Christopher before it happens, or before anything else happens to his best friend’s son. But at the same time, how can he be mad at her? He is scared and exhausted, and he’s freaking twenty-eight; how worse must it feel for a little girl?

“Genevieve” Buck says, as gently as he can, coming closer to her, his hands raised as if he’s talking to a scaredy little cat. “I… I know it’s super scary, ok? Everything that happened today was scary. I… I want to help you find your uncle Sal. I want to help you find your Daddy. But we have to get out of here. I’m gonna need you to be brave”

Genevieve sniffles a little, her nose still buried in the bright fur of the unicorn. It must be wet and smelling like sea water, but she’s holding to it like a life line.

“D-daddy always says that I’m his brave g-girl…” She says with a small hiccup, and Buck once again has to thank the universe for the good parenting this girl’s dad seems to practice.

“I am sure he does; I just met you and I can see you’re a super brave girl. What’s your plushie’s name?”

“D-doesn’t have one yet… Uncle Sal called it Marsh… Cause it looks like a marshmallow” She says, and Buck nods.

“Alright, baby. So let’s get Marsh down here and then you, ok? C’mon, you can be brave for me. I know you can”

This time, when she scooches closer to the edge again, Genevieve doesn’t whimper. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes, and then she’s dropping her unicorn plushie. Buck promptly catches it with both his hands, and the plushie which is supposedly brand new is grimy and heavy from water, like everything else in a fifteen mile ratio. He puts it beside his throbbing leg, trying to ignore the dull ache that’s creeping up. He doesn’t have time for a clot right now.

“That’s a good girl. Now you. Do you want me to count to three?”

“Yes, please…” She says, and Buck can see she’s afraid, but determined.

“Alright, Vivie, here we go: one, two, three!”

By the time Buck reaches three, she closes her eyes and jumps, falling straight into his arms. She's light and fits perfectly against his chest, and Buck holds her close, sighing in relief.

“There you go, you're safe” He tells her, a tentative smile on his face as he puts her down.

“Can we go find uncle Sal now?” She asks, her dark blue eyes filled with worry. “I think he's really hurt, mr. Evan, ‘cause he promised to come back for me and he didn't! And uncle Sal never breaks promises! Please help me find him, mr. Evan, please!” She pleads, and she hugs his legs, pressing her face against his thighs, sobs wrecking her small body.

Buck's heart squeezes when he hears that. He also broke a promise; he promised to keep Christopher safe, and he didn't. He wonders if Genevieve's dad will hate Sal as much as Eddie will hate him, and then decides he'll do everything in his power to stop that from happening.

He picks Genevieve up, rubbing her back, trying to soothe her, feeling completely out of his depth. She rests her head against her shoulders, sniffling a little.

“Hey, hey, everything's alright, Vivie” He says, though he's not sure anything is alright with the world at the moment. “We'll find your uncle Sal, ok? I am sure he's trying his best to come back to you”

“H-how do you know?” Genevieve asks in a small voice as Buck puts her down; usually he'd be able to carry a girl this little for hours on end, but not today. As soon as she's down, she's picking her unicorn up, hugging it tightly against her chest.

“Because I know, baby” He reassures her, and when she still looks doubtful, he sighs. “I… I'm also looking for someone. A little boy who's super brave, just like you. His name is Christopher. I… I promised him to come back, just like your uncle Sal promised you. And that's what I'm doing”

“So… so we find uncle Sal and Christopher together?” She asks hesitantly, and Buck offers his hand to her.

“That's right, Vivie. Together”

Genevieve trembles slightly, looking at his hand, but then she looks at his face and puts her own small one inside it. Buck squeezes it, trying to gather a little bit of her courage, and the two of them walk away from the wreckage. Buck has no idea where they're going, but he knows for a fact he won't let go of Genevieve until she's safe with her uncle, or her dad, or someone she trusts.

He won't fail one more kid today.

Tag list (I'm using my tag list from Little Blobs! If you'd like to stay on the list only for Blobs, lemme know and I'll remove you from this one! If you want to be removed altogether or added, also lemme know!):

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter

@typicalopposite @littlepaws9 @aplaceinme @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21

@dearqueend @laundryandtaxesworld @buckleyskinards @actuallyitsellie

@agentpeggycartering @chaoticdisasterbi

[fellulahh]

The characters at a festival HCs (brothers and Diavolo) - NSFW references

Lucifer:

- his idea of hell (no pun intended)

- “Where are the bell tents? The yurts?” “Lucifer we’re sleeping in a tent.” “I beg your pardon?!” “It’s a two man so we’d be sharing a bed.” “Well I suppose I can make do.”

- He spends the entire weekend completely horrified by his surroundings

- “MC am I mistaken or did that person just snif—“ “yep”

- “MC I can’t believe I am doing all of this for you.”

- Reminds MC to reapply suncream every hour

- He doesn’t dance at all but he does enjoy seeing MC happy and bopping to the music

- “You want me to go to the toilet in that?”

- His arms make a very rare appearance and he has to tell MC off for drooling. “Put that tongue away, MC, before I put it to good use.”

- At night when the temperature drops, Lucifer insists MC cuddles up to him as he wouldn’t want her “catching a cold”

Mammon:

- he’s in his element

- As soon as he sees the tent MC brings along for them both, his eyes light up

- “Are we both stayin’ in that?!” “Yeah?” “But there’s only one compartment?!” “Your point is?” “N—nothing”

- “Come on, I don’t wanna miss a thing!” He cries as he unconsciously grabs MC’s hand and leads her to the arena

- He insists he visits every stool selling all kinds of colourful things

- Immediately invests in a buckle hat

- He takes SO many photos with “his human” and posts them everywhere for everyone to see

- they both get a little drunk together and end up not being able to take their hands off one another

- “MC what’ya doin’ to me??” He blushes a lot

- Basically sprints back to the tent at the end of the night after remembering him and MC would be sharing an air mattress

Levi:

- blushes like crazy when he realises him and MC are sharing a tent

- He’s a bit nervous about the large crowds of a festival but after noticing a few people dressed as video game characters he likes, he soon eases

- He prefers walking around the festival village than the arena as there’s funfair rides and games you can play

- Naturally he wins every game which results in MC having to carry around a huge teddy until they get back to their tent

- Buys him and MC matching felt mushroom hats

- Him and MC buy a hot chocolate on the way back to the tent before the music finishes so that they can sit outside their tent looking up at the stars, hearing the headliner in the distance finish their set

Asmo:

- “right, it’s this way to red camping” “erm absolutely not, MC, I’ve booked us VIP.”

- Pays for an expensive yurt so that they can go full glam for their outfits each day without the difficultly of getting ready in a tiny tent with no mirror

- “Oopsy! I booked a double bed and not two singles.”

- He carries round a fan and fawns at any of the good looking humans that come their way

- Asmo is in pure people watching mode. He LOVES it. Everyone is in such colourful and extravagant outfits, he can’t believe MC never invited him to a festival earlier

- Falls in love with every artist that comes on stage

- “Oh MC, I must buy their t-shirt before we go!”

- He insists they hold hands wherever they go in case they “get separated”

Satan:

- Satan is pretty relaxed about the whole experience. He embraces doing something different

- What he embraces most, however, is realising the mattress he’s pumping is a double bed

- “Are we sharing?” He asks nonchalantly

- He’s super chilled when they’re watching the various artists, he keeps a drink in one hand while his other arm is draped around MC

- MC finds him SO attractive as he wears his sunglasses, and his hat backwards

- He unwinds so fast and before he knows it, he’s finding himself dancing with MC

- At one point when MC goes to the toilet, Satan disappears to get them both something to drink and eat

- “Well after today, I’m rather excited to see how the rest of the weekend goes” “the nights not over yet, MC.” He smiles as he takes her hand and leads them back to the tent

Beel:

- MC has to buy a larger tent just to fit Beel’s tall body it in

- “Is this where we’re sleeping?” He asks with a big smile as MC chucks the blanket into one compartment

- “I thought we could sleep in this side and keep the other side to store our food.” “Marry me” “what”

- Beel carries MC on his shoulders so that she can get a better view of her favourite artists

- In fact he carries her everywhere. All she has to do is say her feet are sore once and that’s it, Beel won’t let her go through anymore pain

- They try every food vendor available

- When the sun goes down and it gets a bit colder, Beel gives MC his hoodie and hugs her from behind while she watches the artist on stage

- with no hesitation, Beel picks MC up when they go to head back to the tent

Belphie:

- You can bet MC and Belphie have the comfiest sleeping set up. That demon didn’t care how far they had to walk to get to their pitch, he was bringing as many blankets and pillows as he physically could

- He wears his hoodie up and keeps himself to himself the whole weekend, but stays close by to MC

- Belphie rests his chin on MC’s head and holds her from behind throughout the performances

- They have tactical afternoon naps when there’s a gap in artists they want to see

- Belphie brings a spare jumper with him when they watch the headliner because he wants to make sure MC is warm enough for all of it

- His favourite part of each day is walking pack to the tent with MC

Diavolo:

- he has never been so amazed by anything before: the people, the atmosphere, the colours, the music…

- Makes a comment about how his “weekend just got better” when MC informs him the tent is only big enough if they share a bed

- Diavolo unconsciously keeps an arm around MC a lot, worried he may lose her in the crowd

- He’s so excited to see all the artists MC likes so he can gain an insight into what the human listens to

- The pair enjoy each other’s company so much that they lose track of how many drinks they’ve had

- Before long, they’re holding hands wherever they go

- “Where the f has he gone” *Diavolo sails past* “MC, I’m crowd surfing!”

- “Look MC, I bought us matching t-shirts!”

- They’re one of the last to leave the arena and they spend the entire walk back to the tent laughing with each other

- They might also share a few tipsy kisses on the way back

- Complete raw dogging in the tent as soon as they get back

[heroesrest64]

Character Sheets

(more to be added later)

Sky

The local carpenter, a sleepy young man who completes his jobs… eventually. You can often find him napping just about anywhere, even on his feet! A romantic at heart, you won’t regret getting to know this loveable young man.

Birthday: Spring 10

Family: None

Weapons: Broadswords, Whips, Claws

Style: Combo Connoisseur (Often starts combo chains while fighting)

Favorite Items: Wood, Pumpkin Soup (“Reminds me of home”), Feathers

Least Favorite Items: Poultry (“Why would you think I would like this?”), weeds, Spicy food

Four

The local blacksmith who always seems to be everywhere at once. He has a special penchant for weapons, and is happy to assist you in making whatever you need.

Birthday: Fall 21

Family: Smith (Grandpa)

Weapons: Broadswords, Magic Wands, War Hammers and Bow and Arrows

Style: Well-Rounded (Performs well no matter where you put him in the lineup)

Favorite Items: Metal Ores, Magic Stones, Four Leafed Clovers (“They’re good luck!), Coffee

Least Favorite Items: ocean forageables, trash, deserts (“Too sweet for my taste.”)

Time

this man runs the other farm in town alongside Twilight, mostly focused on cultivating crops and the like. He’s experienced (Read: Old) so if you need any tips or tricks, he’s the guy that you want to talk to.

Birthday: Summer 4

Family: None

Weapons: Longswords, Claws, War Hammers

Style: Heavy Hitter (He’s a bit slower but his attacks hit that much harder)

Favorite Items: Any Vegetable, Lon Lon Milk (“Better than any alcohol”), Elderflower

Least Favorite Items: Bitter recipes, soggy newspaper (“What am I supposed to do with this?”) moon dust (“…”)

Wind

An aspiring fisherman who makes deliveries from Lurelin Village and who can even ferry you down there. He’s a very nice young man, inquisitive, and always ready to lend a helping hand.

Birthday: Summer 19

Family: Aryll (Sister), ‘Granny’ (Grandma)

Weapons: Longswords, War Hammers, Clubs

Style: Sleight (Because of his smaller size, he can sneak attack enemies easier, and can even nick some of their items if he’s lucky)

Favorite Items: Elixir Soup (“You could never make it like my Grandma, but this is pretty close.”), Ocean Forageables, Fish

Least Favorite Items: Spicy foods, vegetables (“What’s a sailors least favorite vegetable? Leeks!”), egg shells (“Are you trying to curse me?”)

NON ROMANCEABLE

Legend

The curator of the local museum. He claims all of his attractions were stolen by a man in a bunny hood. A little standoffish at first, but knowledgeable beyond his years.

Birthday: Spring 25

Family: Fable (Sister)

Weapons: All Weapons

Style: Veteran (Capable of wielding all weapons with high dexterity)

Favorite Items: Hibiscus(“Reminds me of somebody… Thank you.”), artifacts, apples

Least Favorite Items: rabbits foot (“Where did you get this? It’s disgusting.”), Mermaid Scale, Goddess Statue Figurine (“I swear it’s like she’s looking at me…”)

Hyrule

The town's healer. He’s a little sassy at times, but is always very helpful and never gives up. Unfortunately, his cooking leaves a lot to be desired…

Birthday: Fall 8

Family: None

Weapons: Broadsword, boomerang, magic wands

Style: Magic and Mayhem (Has innate magical abilities that don’t need a conduit to activate.)

Favorite Items: deserts, herbs, Honey (“I’d say it’s for tea, but I might just eat it like this…”)

Least Favorite Items: Fairy Wings (“That’s sickening.”), bitter foods, Trash

Twilight

Runs the other farm in town alongside Time, focused on raising the animals there. He’s strong and fiercely loyal to his loved ones. He’s best friends with the town chef, so you can often find him hanging around the local tavern.

Birthday: Winter 7

Family: None

Weapons: Broadsword, Ball and Chain, Claws

Style: Wolf Hunter (Attacks animal-adjacent monsters with more ferocity)

Favorite Items: Pumpkin Soup, Goat-related products, Onyx (“I hear these can make openings to dark worlds. Probably just superstition, but it’s a fun thought.”)

Least Favorite Items: Bitter foods, Perfumes (“The smell is too strong.”), Wolfsbane

Warriors

The village's main protector, previously a knight of Hyrule who retired after the Great War. He’s known to be a bit of a womanizer, but he isn’t known to go out with people since coming to Hateno. What could be the source of these unfounded rumors?

Birthday: Winter 26

Family: Linkle (Sister[?])

Weapons: All Weapons

Style: Leader (Often at the front of the party, dealing decisive blows and commanding the rest of the party)

Favorite Items: Spicy foods, Armor Polish (“So shiny I can see myself!”), Any armor/ weapon (“I can add this to my collection.”)

Least Favorite Items: Trash, monster guts, Crystal Ball (“You had this? …You weren’t watching people through it, right?”)

Wild

An amnesiac man who somehow made his way to Hateno and decided to open a tavern. Despite his memory loss, he’s a natural in the kitchen, and even the stranger sounding recipes turn out excellent.

Birthday: unknown, presumed Fall 13

Family: None

Weapons: Broadswords, Bow and Arrows, Spears

Style: Wild (Often unpredictable in his attacks, either unleashing impossible combos or falling flat on his face)

Favorite Items: Edible forageables, Silent Princess (“It’s familiar, somehow”), Hearty Soup

Least Favorite Items: Wolf Pelt (“That's not funny.”) [Cant think of anything else rn]

Universal Loves: Goddess Plume, Master Sword, Hylian Shield

Exceptions

Legend- Goddess Plume (“More burdens to bear.”)

Universal Hates: Hyrule’s Cooking, Failed Dishes

Exceptions

Wild- Hyrule’s cooking/ Failed Dishes (“It’s okay to fail, as long as you don’t give up.”)

Legend- Hyrule’s Cooking (“Hyrule made this?… Do you think he’d be mad if I displayed it under ‘worlds most deadliest poison’?”)

[loviingpedri]

feliz navidad - jude bellingham

prompt: jude’s first christmas tree in madrid

warnings: grammar issues, cheesy lines

credits to owners for all images

“jude! look at all these ornaments i got.”

“they’re really pretty. remind me, what is the theme for the tree again?” he picked up the green ornament with the unique carvings of it.

“traditional christmas of course. classic colors like green and red. it’s gonna look beautiful.”

“beautiful like you?” he winked at you while you grinned from his flirty comment.

“anyways! are you ready to start decorating?” he nodded his head as he opened the box of lights. he began to put the lights on as you tried to find hooks for the ornaments.

“do you think we should do fake presents again. i mean, it looked pretty last year.”

“do whatever it takes to make it your dream christmas tree. the least i can do is help you. take this as my appreciation for your sacrifices in moving here with me.” the lights were blinking at you as he finished his sentence.

“you always say that. can’t leave the love of my life in a foreign place alone.”

“aren’t i special then?”

“don’t let your ego get to you jude.” finding the hooks for the ornaments, it was finally time for your favorite tradition. decorating with jude.

grabbing a sparkly green ornament, it was already matching with the lights. soon, dozens of red and green were everywhere.

“jude! did you put these green ornaments together?” he was just happy to help. you appreciated everything he did, but sometimes it didn’t quite match your ideas.

“yeah? what about it?” he grabbed another red ornament as the tree started to become overwhelming.

“they aren’t suppose to be next to each other. it’s a contrasting kind of idea, you know?” he just nodded, but he didn’t understand the point of it. another rule added to the list, don’t put the same kind of ornament together.

the tree came together perfectly. especially with the ribbons and lights. the only challenging part next was the star. you attempted to put it on there yourself, but it was no use.

“having trouble?” as you finally stopped stretching your arm, you couldn’t deny it.

“yeah i am. do you have a ladder or anything?” now, the jude bellingham started laughing in your face. usually, you would be offended but it was definitely more confusion. “what are you laughing at?” giving him a sassy pose, his smile became vivid.

“the only thing i should be smiling at. why get a ladder when you have me?” jude really thinks he’s the smartest man out here.

“what?”

“oh come on. i’m strong enough to hold you.”

“jude, what are you on about?”

“get on my shoulders of course. you’ll be tall enough to put the star on.”

pure shock was seen in your face. “are you serious? i mean you could seriously get hurt.”

“don’t you trust me?” he crept down slowly and told you to just get on. after awkward movement, you felt your stomach drop as he stood up. everything was much clearer in this view.

“this is absolutely crazy.”

“don’t fall, please.” as you got closer to the tree, the star was shining bright on your face. jude walked to the couch to playfully yet gently throw you off. a lot of giggles and cuddles were shared as you admired your new masterpiece.

“it’s so bright.”

“yeah, just like you.” he gave you a kiss on your forehead as you got comfortable under the blanket right next to him.

——————————————

author’s note: happy holidays to those who celebrate! it’s crazy how this has been in my draft since november and it finally came together. wishing you all happiness!

[hheartsdramas]

the rule of cdramas is for every episode of joy and adorableness, they make us suffer angst and heartbreak for at least double those episodes. a moment but forever episodes 27-28:

oh no he’s smiling! like so much smiles. what horrors await us

sure sex is cool, but have you ever had a man destroy a precious gift during his apocalyptic spiral and then when he finds the will to live again recreate it from memory especially for you?

it took almost 30 episodes but they finally explained a little bit more about wtf is going on in the divine realm and we have even more reason to hate hannu!

i haaaaate that the demons god’s big break has to be either yz dying or losing his faith in humanity again. hasn’t the man been through enough???

that’s what she said (i am no better than a teenaged boy)

i love that xue has designated herself as tanyin’s family. even though she knows there was something funky about how they met, she’s chosen to be her sister anyway.

happy yuanzhong is so cheeky and snarky! he really always was, but without the weight of impending apocalypse on his shoulders he’s actually enjoying being a little shit. i love this for him

kiss! kiss! come on kissssssss! (fine i’ll wait, hmph)

we knew zhi dai’s brother was up to no good but being involved in—even the leader of—the wushuang society is very very not good

also tanghua is still a dick and although her brother is up to no good, zhi dai would be justified in knocking tanghua over the head with something heavy

i am really, really liking this version of morality chain. i can like “only nice to one person” but i think i love “becomes nicer because of one person”

i could never tell if we were supposed to buy into a love triangle, but i much prefer qian lin as the adopted punk kid brother

ugh so domestic and adorable, i can’t deal!

i am not usually a sucker for dimples. maybe it hits harder because we spent 26 episodes of almost zero smiles. but HOLY SHIT when yuanzhong/liu xue yi smiles my heart hiccups

he may be letting go of resentment but he’s still our “fuck the system” radical. have i mentioned i love him?

has anyone made a cdrama bingo? because we just added patricide to this one

shit’s kicking off everywhere else and they’re still on their honeymoon (who else is panicking)

come on kissssssssssss

yayyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!

who needs 8 more episodes, this seems like a great place to stop and assume that nothing bad happens from here on in

are we supposed to be worried about qian lin?

kill him! do it! aside from the satisfaction nothing good ever comes from showing mercy to people like elder assface

i hope she measured him all night long 😏

“it’s nice to be cared for” stick a fork in me, i’m done

oh shit are those the super demons?

did they just bureaucratize the wushuang cult into a chamber of commerce?

currently what i’m thinking about is how no one knows tanyin is an actual full-blown goddess and the unwilling namesake of the group that’s going to play such a huge role in the final arc

what do you want to bet that wushuang society started because hannu appeared and said she was goddess wushuang

girl me too, it’s because y’all are still so happy and there’s so many episodes left

at least worrying about what’s going to happen to the fictional characters is helping distract me from worrying about what’s happening to my retirement savings.

[pankowcrumbs]

Can you do a one shot with Kit and an older actress reader. Maybe she is like 5 years older than him and is insecure about her age and the public’s perception but Kit is obsessed with her and doesn’t care.

MasterList

AN: I did age kit up a lil hope that's okay.

It started with a coffee.

Not even a particularly good one. The catering table on set wasn’t known for its finesse. The tea tasted like metal, and the coffee was the sort that scalded your tongue before giving you anything resembling a caffeine hit.

But he smiled at me as he poured it Kit Connor. With his disarmingly kind eyes and boyish grin. He didn’t say anything at first, just offered me a cup with both hands like it was sacred.

“Thanks,” I said, taking it carefully.

“You’re Y/N, right?” he asked, even though he knew I was. We were both leads in Breaking Point, some grim psychological thriller that would no doubt win BAFTAs and haunt people for months.

I gave a polite nod. “And you’re Kit.”

He smiled again, and I swear it reached places I hadn’t let people into in years.

We didn’t fall into each other straight away. I was wary. Not because of him he was lovely, humble, quietly intense in the best way. But because of me. I was thirty I’d spent the last decade learning how to navigate a world that often discarded women past twenty-five unless they were miracle agers or Meryl Streep.

Kit was twenty-five. Fresh-faced, talented, adored. He walked into every room like he didn’t know he was carrying half the internet’s affections in his pocket.

Still, the more scenes we shot together, the more the line between acting and reality blurred. He had this way of listening really listening that made you feel seen. Like your words mattered. I caught myself lingering in conversations. Laughing longer. Stepping closer. It terrified me.

So, of course, when he asked me out for a drink after a late shoot, I panicked.

“I’m...” I started, then stopped. “You know I’m older than you, right?”

Kit tilted his head, smiling like I’d told him the sky was blue. “Yeah. I’m not twelve.”

“You’re five years younger.”

“I’m aware.” He took a beat. “Are you?”

That earned him a reluctant laugh. “I just… people talk.”

“Let them.”

His tone was so casual, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

That was the beginning.

We didn’t go public straight away. I suppose I thought I could keep it mine. This quiet, brilliant thing we’d found. We had six weeks of filming, and in that time, he made me feel more cherished than any man ever had.

He’d bring me snacks when I forgot lunch. Sit with me between takes, fingers brushing mine under the table. And at night, when we were both too exhausted to pretend otherwise, he’d crawl into my hotel bed and just be there. No games. No pressure. Just warmth and breath and limbs tangled under cheap duvets.

Then the wrap party happened.

Someone caught us holding hands outside the venue. Not kissing. Not even touching intimately. Just my hand in his, swinging gently as we walked under the streetlights.

The photo was everywhere the next day.

"Is Kit Connor Dating Older Co-Star?" "Five-Year Age Gap Sparks Debate Online!" "Who is Y/N, Anyway?"

That one stung the most. I’d worked so hard. Carried so many roles. And still who is she? Like I didn’t exist before him.

Kit, for his part, didn’t flinch.

“Want to make a statement?” his publicist asked him.

“Yeah,” he replied, eyes flicking to me. “We’re together. She’s amazing. End of story.”

I couldn’t believe it. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“But the comments…”

He shook his head. “They’re not living my life. I am.”

The press tour began two months later.

By then, we were fully a thing. I’d stopped pretending it wasn’t serious. It was written all over us. In the way he looked at me during interviews. In the way his knee would find mine during roundtables. In the way he’d subtly slide his hand into mine as cameras flashed.

Of course, the questions came.

“So, Y/N,” one interviewer said, smiling too tightly, “what’s it like dating a younger man? Does it ever feel strange?”

I forced a polite smile. “Strange? No. Refreshing, maybe.”

Kit grinned at that, proud of me. But I could feel the heat behind my ears. The urge to crawl away from the spotlight and hide.

Another interviewer turned to him. “Kit, there’s been a lot of chatter online. Some fans seem uncomfortable with the age difference. What do you make of that?”

He blinked once. Twice. Then said calmly, “If you’re uncomfortable with two adults loving each other, maybe ask yourself why.”

I squeezed his hand under the table. He didn’t look at me, just rubbed his thumb gently along my knuckles.

Still, it wore on me.

No matter how many times he reassured me. No matter how many times he kissed my forehead and whispered that I was his favourite person in the world… I still heard the voices.

She’s too old for him. He could do better. She’s probably using him.

We were in Paris, a few days before the premiere. I was standing in front of the mirror, trying on the fourth dress of the evening, and I caught my reflection. Not the gown. Not the heels. Me.

I looked tired.

My fingers brushed the tiny lines near my eyes. The ones makeup couldn’t quite erase. I could hear the red carpet now the photographers yelling, the fans screaming his name, not mine.

I turned away from the mirror.

Kit knocked gently. “Love? You alright?”

I opened the door, still in the dress. “Do I look alright?”

He frowned, stepping closer. “You look stunning. Like a movie star.”

I tried to smile, but it faltered. “Do you ever wish I was younger?”

His face dropped. “What?”

“Just don’t lie. It’s okay.”

“Why would I lie? No, I don’t wish that. I don’t want you, but younger. I want you.”

I shook my head. “People think it’s weird.”

“I don’t care what they think. I’m not with them. I’m with you.”

He moved closer, hands gently sliding to my waist.

“You know what I think?” he murmured. “I think you’re beautiful. I think you’re brilliant. I think you’ve been told for too long that your worth is measured by how young you look, and I think that’s bullshit.”

I exhaled shakily. “Kit…”

“I’m obsessed with you. Not your age. You.”

I kissed him then, because there was nothing else left to say.

The Paris premiere was chaos, but he never let go of my hand.

When a journalist asked again about the age difference, Kit simply said, “She’s the best thing in my life. If the worst people can say about us is that she was born five years before me, I’d say we’re doing pretty well.”

And weirdly… that moment changed everything.

The headlines shifted.

"Kit Connor and Y/N Are the Real Deal." "Age Gap? More Like Power Couple."

I still get the odd look. Still feel the sting of a side comment. But every time I spiral, he brings me back.

With coffee in the morning. With kisses on the backs of my hands. With whispered confessions when we fall into bed, tangled limbs and slow laughter.

We’re not a scandal. We’re just us.

[logically-asexual]

there are a lot of Straight Tropes whose appeal i can understand, like the guy being simultaneously sensible and closed off, or jealousy as a display of affection, or power imbalances, and so on. but one thing i was introduced to solely by fiction and that i think i would have never ever thought of myself, and that am still baffled by to this day, is that trope of the guy (rich) buying an entire outfit for the girl and instructing her to wear it to their date.

the first time i read it in a fanfic i was like oh sure whatever that’s just this authors idea to have the guy flaunt his wealth or whatever. but then i kept seeing it everywhere and it confuses me more every time.

like

first of all straight men barely know their partner’s shoe size, even when they’re married, and they’re constantly nagging about how women choose their clothes while shopping when they, oh so enlightened beings, only care about what is “comfortable”. and i can suspend my disbelief for many things and believe good men exist but this is a line my brain refuses to cross lmao. it’s not even related to being “good” it’s just. how straight men are. it’s a neutral constant of them. they’re good when they do pay enough attention to their girlfriend to buy a gift that fits their size and taste but like. a single piece of clothing/accessory as a gift. that’s what i’d find nice.

and even if. EVEN if i believed that a straight man was capable of going to stores and shopping for an entire outfit that is the right size for his girlfriend and all the pieces match and also is sexy and also is appropriate for the outing,, even so i find absolutely zero appeal in my hypothetical boyfriend telling me how to dress?? even more so if they’re just leaving me a box full of strange clothes in my bedroom with a note and expecting me to just show up somewhere in public dressed in them?

also because in most scenarios this is a pair of people that barely know each other so the guy is picking the clothes based only on what HE thinks will look good on the girl after having just met her. which is insane. people are so different and personal taste for an outfit has so much impact your ability to carry a Look.

like i get that i, playing a straight woman, would want to look sexy for him or whatever but In That Case i would like to do that with my own preferred clothes which im already confident in because i know from experience that they look good??? new clothes are always a source of self-consciousness especially if they’re supposed to be sexy or special like?? heck i even feel nervous when i try a different combination of the clothes i already own.

i don’t know to me it just seems like a recipe for anxiety and not in the cutesy, butterflies-in-my-stomach kind of way, but in the “who the fuck does this guy think he is” kind of way.

i’ll keep watching straight romances because even though i’m ace the part of me that is romantically attracted to some men still likes a handful of their tropes. but not this particular one. i’ll never stop being a hater for it.

[atinylittlepain]

Marcus Pike x f!reader

(there is no masterlist for this man, good luck to this man)

He's looking for something other than vanilla, and she is more than happy to provide such a service to him.

warnings | 18+ this is smut, pegging, rimming, sucking and fucking, sex work, lowkey sugardaddy!marcus, sweet shy marcus getting his world rocked, and then pancakes and a blackberry and a black american express card so ya know, the works.

a/n | this was written LAST MAY woof - i think originally it was supposed to be for the first round of the PMAMC (also woof) but she's here now :') special thanks to @wannab-urs for resurrecting this fucker. there is a part two... just sayin

..............................

The first thing she notices about him is that he’s nervous. He keeps loosening and tightening his tie, eyes glancing around in quick, anxious sweeps. He’s definitely never been here before, she would’ve remembered a face that handsome, strong jaw under a little scruff and big brown eyes that set a smile tugging at her lips when he finally meets her gaze. 

“Hey there, handsome, welcome in. First time?” His eyes drop down to the floor, a clipped laugh coming out as she steps closer to him.

“Am I that obvious?” He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes crinkled in a shy smile that sets warmth spreading in her chest, bringing a delicate palm to his shoulder.

“Just never seen you around before, that’s all. What brings you to Pandora’s tonight?”

“Well, I, uh– I wanted to– um–” He cuts his own rambling off, jaw slack as he watches a man in head to toe latex walk by, being led on a leash by one of her coworkers. 

“Hey, don’t worry about them. I wanna know what you want. Would you feel more comfortable talking some more in one of our private rooms?” Eyelashes fluttering, spine arched, she knows exactly how to reel them in, noting the dip and bob of his throat as he nods.

“I– yeah, um, yes please.” Manners, she likes that. She slips her hand down his arm, taking his hand before turning heel and tugging him down the dark hallway, taking them into one of the vacant playrooms. It’s one of the tamer rooms, a four poster bed in the middle, red silk sheets, and a dark chest of drawers off to the side full of all sorts of fun. She guides him to sit down on the end of the bed beside her, his hands immediately going to his thighs in a nervous squeeze. His eyes are still darting everywhere, but mostly to the tops of her breasts, pressed up in the strappy leather corset she has on, though he doesn’t let his gaze linger there long before jerking his eyes back up to her face. 

“You don’t have to be nervous, baby. I just want to hear a little about why you came in, and how you’d like to be taken care of tonight, alright?” He nods, clearing his throat a few times before replying.

“I just– you gotta know that I’ve never done anything like this before, really. But, I don’t know, I guess I wanted to try something different? My, well my ex-wife, I think she thought I was too, um, vanilla. So I guess I want to– not be– um, vanilla anymore. And, Jesus Christ, you probably think I’m crazy, huh?” Somehow, he manages to still be handsome and look like a kicked puppy at the same time, and she has to resist the urge to push his flop of hair back and press a kiss to the crease between his brows.

“Not crazy at all. So when you say not vanilla, what does that mean to you?” When he gives her no answer, eyes only widening as he seems to wrack his brain for what to say, she laughs lightly, bringing a palm to his thigh and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Why don’t we start with the basics? Do you see yourself being more of a dom or a sub?” 

“I– what does that mean, dom and sub?” Oh boy, more basic than the basics then.

“Dom is shorthand for dominant, that’s the person in control in the relationship, and they’re usually the one inflicting any pain, if you’re into that. And sub means submissive, that’s the person who follows the dom’s commands, who gets taken care of.” 

“Oh, right, that makes sense. I mean, I don’t think I’d be very good at being in control like that, so I guess, more submissive?” I’ll say. She offers him a nod and smile, still trying to coax some of his anxiety out of him.

“Sounds good, handsome. If it’s alright with you, I can be your partner for the night. Let’s get some paperwork for you and then we can get started, ok?” He only nods, something she’s going to have to work on with him.

“For this to work, I’m gonna need you to always use your words with me, alright? That way I know exactly what you do and don’t like.” She says it to him over her shoulder as she rifles through the chest of drawers, getting out a waiver and a pen for him. 

“Uh, yes, ok, I can– I can do that.” She sits back down beside him with a hum, passing him the paperwork, watching his brow furrow as he reads over it.

“That’s a list of kinks we do and don’t participate in. Are there any that you’re particularly interested in exploring tonight?” Another clear of his throat, keeping his eyes glued to the paper when he responds.

“Do men– do men really like that? I mean, I’ve heard of it, but, does it feel good?” She looks over his shoulder to where his finger is pointing, her lips crooking into a smile when she sees what’s caught his attention.

“Mmhmm, it can be very pleasurable, with an experienced partner, of course.”

“And you– are you, um, experienced?” Her smile broadens into a grin at his question, resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Oh baby, I’m very experienced. Is that something you’d like to try out tonight?” He seems to consider it, his eyes darting from her lips back up to her gaze a few times before he finally nods.

“Fuck it, yeah, I wanna do that. But is it ok if that’s the only thing we do on this list? I don’t think I’m really into the whole– chains and whips thing.” She laughs at that, giving his shoulder a squeeze as she nods.

“Whatever you want. Just need you to sign that waiver which basically affirms that we’re all clean here at Pandora’s, and you are too. You’re familiar with our pricing, right? It’s three hundred for an hour, and five for two.” 

“Is it ok if I do two?”

“You’re the customer, honey. What you say goes.” With a decisive nod, he ticks the box next to two hours on the form, signing his name on the dotted line before handing her back the pen and paper.

“Nice to officially meet you, Marcus. You can call me Daisy, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” As she sets the paperwork down on the chest of drawers, he lets out a light laugh, drawing her attention over her shoulder.

“That’s not your real name, is it?” Stepping out of her heels, she pads back over to him, standing right between his legs, setting down the items she grabbed before guiding his hands onto her hips.

“It’s not, is there something else you’d like to call me for the night?” He takes a sharp inhale as she drags his hands from her hips, up and up until his palms are cupping her breasts through her corset.

“I, um– Daisy’s good, yeah.” Letting her hands fall away from his, his eyes search hers, obvious in looking for permission that she’s happy to give.

“You can touch me, Marcus, whatever makes you feel more comfortable.” 

“Can I take this off of you?” His fingers are toying with the laced-up front of her corset, which she lightly bats away.

“It’s a little tricky, let me.” She makes deft work of unlacing the garment, a known path for her fingers that usually bores her, though there’s a little kick of something else, him watching her and the fine flicker of her hands. Marcus lets out a laugh at the grin she offers him, fizzling in his throat when she lets the corset fall away to reveal herself to him, standing before him in only her barely-there shorts. The heat of his hands just hovers over the swell of her breasts, and she can’t help the sigh that thrums in her throat when he finally lets his palms press against her skin. It’s not often that a client affects her like this, and she has to clear her throat to refocus on the real task at hand.

“Why don’t we get you out of your clothes? Sit back for me.” She’s undone dozens of ties, worked her fingers through miles of shirt buttons, and doesn’t even have to look to get trousers unfastened now, but she can’t shake the prickle running up her spine at the way his eyes follow every movement, and she can’t hide the shudder that runs through her when he tentatively tucks her hair behind her ear as she works his pants down his hips. 

“Have you been doing this for long?” She shoots him a look from her spot between his legs, his pants discarded to leave him in just his briefs.

“Are you really trying to make small talk?” Oh, he’s blushing now. She likes that, crawling closer and dipping her head down to press a kiss to the center of his chest before dragging her lips up and up, catching at the bob in his throat before letting her mouth just hover over his, feeling the shaky pants of his breath.

“There’s no need for that, Marcus. I’m gonna take care of you now, and I need you to tell me what you like, and what you don’t, do you understand?” His voice comes out a little hoarse, and she can feel the thrum of it where her chest is brushing against his.

“Yes, I understand.” A grin is all she gives him, ducking down before his lips can meet hers as she lets her mouth drag a trail down his torso until she’s nipping at the waistband of his briefs. 

“Can I take these off?” When all he does is nod, she gives his hip a light pinch, something between a laugh and a grunt jumping from his chest at the sensation.

“Yeah, you can take them off, I– sorry.” She smoothes her palm over the spot she pinched, smiling up at him.

“That’s ok, baby. Just remember your words for me.” He can’t be real, that’s all she can figure when she gets him totally bare before her, his cock a perfect pink that matches the flush on his chest, thick enough to set her jaw aching in anticipation, and long, pre-come smearing in the tuft of hair over his pelvis. She can’t help but wonder why the fuck anyone would ever want to leave him when he’s this pretty to look at. 

“Can I touch you? Get you warmed up for me?” He’s propped up on his elbows to watch her kneeling between his legs, lips swollen from how much he’s been biting them, slightly parted in something like wonder.

“Yeah, yes, please.” 

“Hmm, I like a boy with some manners. Just relax, Marcus, and remember, I’m here to take care of you.” With that, she presses a kiss just below his belly button, smiling against the twitch of his muscles before dipping down and letting her lips ghost over the underside of his cock. It’s involuntary, the hum she lets out when she takes him fully into the heat of her mouth, relaxing her throat like she’s learned to do, a necessary move in order to take all of him. And he’s perfect beneath her, thighs flexing under her splayed palms, low moans rumbling in his chest as she alternates between swallowing him down and lapping at his leaking tip. She knows she’s done her job, that she’s loosened him up, when those moans start to get a little louder, a little more drawn out, and he slumps down off his elbows to run a hand through his hair, eyes scrunched shut. A kiss over one hip, then the other, keeping her palm steady on his heaving belly while she reaches for the lube, his eyes squinting open to see why she stopped. 

“You ever used lube before?” 

“No, never needed to, I guess.” 

“Well it’s gonna be your best friend tonight. I’m gonna warm a little up in my palms and then I’ll let you get used to the feel of it, ok?” He hums out an mmhmm, watching her hands rub in quick circles, his eyes following the subtle shake of her breasts with the movement. And when she gets her hands on him again, slicking her palm up his cock, a hiss slips through his lips.

“Sorry, is it still cold?” 

“No, fuck– just feels really good.” She grins at that, letting her wrist flick, hand in an easy glide as she slips her palm down to cup the weight of his balls, his groan cracking and shooting up an octave, hips jolting at the sensation. 

“Has no one touched you like this before, baby?” 

“I– Jesus, no– no one’s done that before.” 

“Well that’s just not right. Feels good, huh?” A little squeeze to punctuate her question sets another moan loose in his chest as he presses his head back into the sheets.

“Y-yes, feels really good.” She nudges his thighs open a bit more, letting her hand slip down lower, not pressing, but circling, gauging how he reacts as she keeps her other hand easily stroking his cock. 

“Remember, need you to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t. We can stop at any time. Do you like what I’m doing right now?” His eyes are still shut tight, one hand fisted in his hair, the other tangled in the sheets, pleasure pulling his whole body taut.

“Yeah, I like it. It’s, hah– it’s different, good, different good.” His words go a bit slurred when she presses her finger forward, opening him up as he lets out another breathy moan. 

He takes it well, whimpers and moans crackling in his throat as she starts a steady thrust, only pausing to work a little more lube over her hand. 

“Doing so good for me, Marcus. You wanna try taking a little more?” He sits up on his elbows, surprising her a bit with his firm reply.

“I want more, want you to use that on me, please.” He tilts his head over to the strap laying on the end of the bed, once again catching her off guard.

“You sure you’re ready for that?” He tilts his head at her, a crooked smile on his face.

“Didn’t you say something about the customer always being right?” She lets out a real laugh at that, shaking her head at him as he just grins, clearly pleased with himself. 

“I guess so. Alright, handsome, why don’t you get on your hands and knees for me? We’ll take it nice and slow.” He seems a bit taken aback by that request, his smile going a little slack as she gets off the bed to step into her harness, though he catches himself, clearing his throat and shifting around on the bed into the position she asked for.

She can’t help herself, getting back on the bed and kneeling behind him, laying a quick pat to his very cute ass that has him craning his neck over his shoulder to look at her.

“Sorry, just looks so good I had to give it a little tap. You ready for me?” He hums his assent as she slicks her fake cock in lube, bringing one palm over his low back in a reassuring circle as she scoots in closer. 

“Just relax, Marcus, this is about you feeling good. That’s it, open up for me.” She works her strap in slow, curling over him to press her lips in a murmuring of praise into his shoulder blades as he whimpers beneath her, his hands fisted tight in the sheets. 

“How’re you feeling, baby? Is it too much? We can go back to what we–”

“No, no. I just– just need a minute, fuck– didn’t think it’d feel this good.” She’s not being professional about this, she knows it too, but she doesn’t care. A professional would be checking the clock, making sure that he gets his before his time is up. A professional wouldn’t be laying kisses over his shoulders, whispering to him that he’s doing so good, that he can take it, that he’s so pretty like this. But nothing about the way she wants him right now feels professional, the way she wants to take care of him, to make him feel good, to keep him feeling good for as long as she can.

“Just say the word. I move when you want me to.” 

Slow and smooth, nothing but patience and permission in how she fucks him, her hips slotting with his again and again and again, simmering down into a close press, her chest draped over his back and her hand working his cock in time with her thrusts when he finally unravels beneath her. He slumps down onto his forearms, a slur of curses punching out of his lungs as she runs her palms up and down his shuddering back. But what he does next is so unexpected she finds herself at the mercy of his movements. The moment she pulls her hips away from his, he turns over underneath her, still catching his breath as his hands find her hips, insistent and harsh in the way he pulls her down onto the bed. He’s certainly a sight, cheeks flushed and hair perfectly mussed up in every direction, his eyes blown dark and wide as he hovers over her.

“Can I take care of you now? Is that allowed?” A professional would say no, that his time is up, get him a towel and a glass of water and process his credit card.

She doesn’t say no.

He fumbles a bit with the straps of the harness, letting out an impatient groan that makes her giggle, quick to bat his hands away and make easy work of shimmying the whole thing down her legs. And the smile he gives her as she does is downright sheepish.

“That’s, uh, a bit tricky.” She brushes his hair back out of his face, thumb settling against the dimple in his cheek, a move that’s entirely too sweet and she knows it.

“Just a little. I’m all yours now though.” He doesn’t waste any time, ducking his head down to press a sweet kiss over the top of her breast that turns salacious when he slides his tongue down over the tight peak of her nipple, her back arching up into the heat of his mouth as he lets his teeth graze over the sensitive skin. His hands are splayed around her hips, greedy and insistent in the way his fingers curl and press into her ass, lifting her hips up to slide her tiny shorts off her legs before he settles back between her thighs, his nose brushing against her twitching stomach, dark eyes flickered up to meet hers.

“Is this ok? Can I taste you? Make you feel good like that?” He steals a move from her book when all she does is nod, his hand that’s still curled around her hip laying a gentle pinch to the swell, his grin going boyish as she huffs out a laugh.

“Can I have your words, Daisy, please?” She tilts her head at his shy question, enjoying the flushed flare creeping up his cheeks.

“Hmm, you’re a fast learner, huh? Yeah, baby, I want your mouth, Want you to make me feel good.” 

It’s not that she had been expecting him to be bad at it. But she also hadn’t been expecting him to be so fucking good either. Head thrown back, thighs trembling around his scruff, moaning his name good. He’s not precious about it, licking a flat stripe through her cunt before letting his tongue catch on her clit in a harsh press, dipping back down to lap up the slick pooling at her entrance, a continuous circuit of pleasure that has every muscle in her body tensing up. He groans low in his chest when she rakes her fingers through his hair, tugging just a bit unkindly when his teeth graze her clit. One large palm snakes up to grasp at the swell of one of her breasts, his other hand pressed across her pelvis to keep her spasming hips still as he fucks her with his tongue, the strong hook of his nose dragging across her clit with each pass. And it hits her all at once, that snare of pleasure snapping hot and hard as she comes with a stilted moan of his name, her heel pressing between his shoulder blades, keeping him exactly where he is, and he continues to work her over as she comes undone on his mouth. 

She tugs at his hair again when it becomes too much, her hips jolting at the thrumming chuckle he lets out when he finally pulls away, resting his cheek against her hip while she tries to catch her breath. They lay like that for a hiccup of time, just staring at each other, a dazed smile on his glistening lips that she knows is mirrored in her own hazy grin. Eventually she lets out a long sigh, reaching out for him and thumbing away some of her arousal that’s smeared across his jaw. 

“Do you wanna, like, get a burger or something?”

“Is that– is that a part of my two hours?” “Oh baby, your two hours were up a while ago.”

…

He’s waiting for her right outside the club, and she mentally kicks herself for having worn sweats and a hoodie in for her shift earlier, though he doesn’t seem to mind, smiling big and broad when she steps outside to join him. 

“I know you said burgers, but there’s a diner around the corner that does the best pancakes in DC. Sound good to you?” She likes this version of him too, confident, certain, a bit old-fashioned with the way he holds his arm out for her to take like they didn’t just wreck each other a few moments ago, letting her hold onto him the whole walk over to the diner, opening the door for her, the whole chivalric production.

It’s so late at night, they’re virtually the only people in the place, tucking into a cracked vinyl booth and putting in their order, pancakes and scrambled eggs and bacon, the works. And they share every last bite, having both clearly worked up an appetite after their evening together.

Though he’s vague about it, she can suss out for herself that he’s some sort of higher-up government type, she knows them well, and in turn, she answers his questions about her, that her work at Pandora’s is good enough to be supporting her through college, Marcus seeming to perk up when she tells him she’d like to be an art teacher one day. He’s older than her, at least enough to have already been married and divorced, but she can’t find it in herself to care about that, too busy enjoying their easy conversation, the subtle game of footsie they have going on under the table, and the way he smiles at her, all of his attention on her. It’s so strange, so different, so starkly contrasted to the way her nights usually go, not that she minds the simple rotation of disinterested clients, but she hasn’t had someone look at her, really look at her the way Marcus is, in quite a while. 

“I have to admit, I wasn’t really expecting my night to end like this.” Plates long cleared, each of them nursing a mug of coffee as the first sweeps of dawn start to light up the streets outside, she smiles at his admission.

“Good surprise or bad surprise?” He grins at her question, leaning in on his elbows like he has the wildest secret to tell her.

“Really good surprise. I mean, I just think you’re– amazing. Fuck, is that weird of me to say?” She mirrors him, leaning in on her elbows, a smile threatening to quirk her lips.

“Hmm, no, it’s cute. For the record, I think you’re kinda amazing too.” Their faces are so close, and she realizes all at once that she hasn’t even kissed him yet.

“Only kinda, huh? Guess I didn’t do my job then.” She can almost feel the curve of his smile as she laughs at his simpering response, the sound getting swallowed when he closes the space between them, pressing his lips to hers. And he’s good at this too, his palm coming to cup her jaw, thumb stroking along her cheek as he deepens the kiss, licking into her mouth and nearly melting her on the spot. Though it’s over too soon for her liking when they get interrupted by someone clearing their throat in front of their table, pulling away to see the rather annoyed looking waitress setting their check down and shuffling away with a sour side-eye. She opens her mouth to protest when Marcus reaches for his wallet, but he waves his hand, black American Express glinting in the diner’s fluorescent lights.

“Don’t worry about it, baby, I’ve got it. It’s the least I can do after going over my two hours.” She can tell he means it as a joke, a flippant remark, but her stomach still sinks at even the suggestion of this still being a business transaction. It’s a sore spot for her, and though she’s more than comfortable with the work she does, her exes hadn’t been, nor had they been kind about it for that matter.

Busy signing the check, Marcus doesn’t notice the way her face falls, and she’s already out of the booth and halfway out the door of the diner when he finally calls out for her, further rubbing salt in the wound when the name he uses is Daisy. 

“Woah, woah, hey, what happened in there?” The hand he hooks around her bicep is gentle but insistent, and she can’t help the tears threatening to spill over when he turns her around to look at him in the faint morning light.

“Look, if that’s all this is to you, just business, that’s fine, but I have enough respect for myself to not–” He cuts her off, bringing his broad palm to cup her cheek again, his eyes wide and unwavering.

“Hey, that’s not what this is– I mean, at least not anymore. We did meet under some, ah, particular circumstances. But this isn’t business to me now, if that’s ok with you?” He thumbs away her stray tears, and she nearly goes dizzy with the relief she feels hearing those words from him. 

“I’m sorry, baby, it was a stupid thing to say, wasn’t even thinking.” Baby, it’s the second time he’s called her that. She’s never anyone’s baby, they’re always hers, but she likes it now, coming from him, finding herself smiling into his touch.

“I don’t want you to call me Daisy.” His eyes soften, smile tempering as he nods.

“Ok, what should I call you?” She tells him her real name, and with it, the last shred of her professionalism dissolves, and she doesn’t care one bit. He says her name like he’s rolling a hard candy around in his mouth, slow sugar in each syllable before he presses a kiss between her brows, lips trailing down to catch hers in a sweet smack. 

“Can I see you again? And, definitively not as, um, as business?” It makes her laugh, how quickly he shifts between confidence and constraint. She likes both. 

“I would really really like that, Marcus. Am I giving you my number or are you giving me yours?” His eyebrows shoot up his forehead, like he’s surprised she actually wants that, though he’s quick to catch himself, clearing his throat and smiling.

“Uh, both? Both is good, right?” They swap phones, and she can’t help thinking to herself that of course this man has a Blackberry, stifling a giggle as she types in her number. 

“Can I walk you to your car? It’s back at the club, right?” 

“Oh, I don’t have a car, actually. Just take the bus to get around.” He doesn’t seem to like that, lips pressing into a thin line as he looks at her.

“How about I get you home this morning? Would that be ok?” Under any other circumstances, she wouldn’t dream of getting into the car of a man she just met, but seeing as she’s already broken a dozen of her cardinal rules with him, she doesn’t think twice about getting into his sleek BMW that’s still parked outside the club. He keeps a palm splayed just above her knee, thumb idly swiping back and forth, a soothing lull as she gives him directions toward her apartment complex. She hates to admit it to herself, but she’s a bit reluctant to get out when he does pull up to her building, leaning over the console for a kiss that he willingly gives her. 

“So I’ll call you?” She lays a kiss to the small patch in his scruff, smiling against his skin when he lets out a huff.

“I’ll answer. Thank you, Marcus, for a really nice night, and morning.”

When she gets inside her apartment, she slumps back against the door, blowing out a long exhale and shaking her head.

“Fuck.” Her boss is going to kill her, but she doesn’t really care. 

[newtonsheffield]

I can’t get the image out of my head of Blushing all the way Home Kate sat next to her Grandfather at Anthony’s Harlequins games. Kate wearing a Harlequins scarf in support of Anthony and Poppy Sharma with his arms crossed wearing a Leicester Tigers Jersey and Scarf.

“He’s very talented, your Anthony.” Poppy Sharma huffed as Anthony tackled a Bristol Bears player by himself, the impact nearly audible from their seats. “I’ll give him that.”

Kate chuckled, “Wow, that sounded painful for you, Poppy.”

Her grandfather looked affronted. “I like Anthony. You know I like him. He’s a good man, he’s good for you.”

Kate nodded, clapping for Anthony as the play reset. “He could get you a Harlequins Scarf, you know. It would mean a lot to him.”

“It’s the most painful thing in my life, Katie. Your Anthony playing for this team. I’ve been a Leicester supporter for 56 years, I’m not stopping for him.”

She knew there’d be pictures of them everywhere tomorrow. It had become something of a joke online. Poppy steadfastly wearing his Leicester supporter’s gear, standing to cheer for Anthony’s brother in law when he took Down Anthony himself 2 metres before the try line. Anthony himself played into it, Posting photos of the two of them together after the matches

I’ll win him over one of these days.

“You could convince him to transfer to Leicester you know. Basset could make for him in the locker-room I’m sure. I could cheer for him then.”

“Poppy,” Kate rolled her eyes. “This was Anthony’s Dad’s team. His career started here and it’s going to end here as well.”

Poppy gave nod of begrudging respect. “Well, he’s loyal. I respect that I suppose.”

“He’s got you a Ticket to the England Scotland game next month.”

Kate saw the shift in him, his eyes widening, “Has he?!”

“Of course.”

“In the box, or the side line?” Poppy gasped.

“He knows you prefer sideline.”

Poppy gasped excitedly, “I’ll pay him for them.”

“Don’t be silly, they’re a gift. You’re with the rest of the family.”

“Well, I look forward to it.”

Sure enough, Poppy settled next to Kate a month later, his coat bundled tightly around him just as it had been the entire journey there.

“Why do you still have your coat on?” Kate narrowed her eyes at her Grandfather, suddenly suspicious.

“It’s chilly.”

“You never wear your coat, you unbutton it so everyone can see who you’re supporting.”

Poppy shrugged, an innocent look on his face “Ah well.”

“If you are wearing a Scotland Jersey under there just to spite him I am not bringing you anymore.”

She only grew more suspicious when he started to fidget in his seat as the crowd started to thrum with energy as the teams stood in the tunnel. And panic rose in her chest as Anthony started leading The English team onto the pitch and Poppy stood in his seat.

“Anthony!”

“Poppy what are you doing?!”

“Anthony!” Poppy hollered again and it caught his attention this time, Anthony turning in his direction. And finally Poppy took off his coat to reveal an England Jersey, Anthony’s number emblazoned on it, his name stretched across the back.

Anthony’s face lit up, grinning as he pointed, applauding with the crowd laughing around them.

“Well then.” Poppy huffed settling into his seat and taking the red scarf from the pocket of his coat. “I’m looking forward to being able to enjoy your Anthony being an absolute bloody unit tonight.” He cleared his throat, “Get em Anthony!”

Kate rolled her eyes, kissing her grandfather’s cheek. “He’s going to be so excited.”

And sure enough there’s a series of images on Anthony’s instagram the next day. Poppy standing proudly in the stands, a photo of himself grinning as he pointed and one of the two of them on the pitch at the end.

We’ve got Poppy Sharma boys!

[mythicalartisttm]

What’s your opinion on transgenders people? I ask as i have seen you reblog a few things and I am unsure on your stance. I mean this in no judgmental way i would just like to know your thoughts

anon this ask both excites me and fills me with caution, but! I will provide you with what you seek!

what do I think about transgender people? Here’s my answer to that, but be warned, it is lengthy!

1) they’re to be treated as people, not outcasts. Human is human, and we are supposed to treat fellow humans with love, care, and respect, even if we don’t agree with the people in question, or if it’s just plain hard.

2) I say this with gentleness: their perceptions of themselves are skewed*, and there are many reasons for this with the primary one being that we live in a broken world, which leads to everything else. But one of the absolute worst things we can do to trans people/ people who want to be trans, regardless of the reason, is to go along with the idea that they are or can be any other gender than the one they were born with. As you can probably tell, I believe in the God of the Bible, and that while human hands may have written the physical book, He speaks through the people that wrote it. So let’s let His Word do the talking.

You know the creation story, yeah? It’s ok if you don’t, let’s recap anyways:

Every day for 6 days, God made aspects of our universe, and when He declared everything finished – perfect! God’s work ain’t finished ‘till it’s perfect – He rested on the 7th day (Genesis 1 and 2). On the 6th day He made humans, male and female, and they were made in the image of God Himself (Gen. 2:26). They were also the only aspect of creation God formed with His own hands; Genesis 2:7 says God made the first man from the dust of the earth, and verses 21-22 says He took a piece of the man to make the first woman.

That might not seem huge to you, but it speaks volumes of the care God put into humanity specifically. Everything else – the sun, stars, sky, trees, dogs, almost everything you can think of – God simply spoke them into existence. But for humans; for you, anon? He got up, got His hands dirty, and shaped your head, your heart, your spirit, your body. He gave humanity a literal special touch that He gave to nothing else.

This is reinforced again by God speaking through king David’s Psalm 139, verses 13-16:

13 You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body     and knit me together in my mother’s womb. 14 Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!     Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it. 15 You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,     as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. 16 You saw me before I was born.     Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out     before a single day had passed.

God is omnipresent, meaning that He’s everywhere all the time any time, and nothing escapes His knowledge. This includes the creation of a new human being (again: male or female, no secret 3rd option for this one). And because God Himself – who makes no mistakes – oversees and ordains the creation of every new little boy or girl, wouldn’t it make sense that God would make them as He intended to make them: perfectly, without mistake? There is then no ground for the “born in the wrong body” argument to stand on, because God made your body with you in mind; your body was made specifically for you, and there were no errors on His end.

Now, what if you just straight up don’t like your body? I think everyone has disliked their body and/or felt uncomfortable in it at some point, that includes me. If someone’s going through puberty then they are almost guaranteed to be uncomfortable in their body because that kiddo and their body both are growing up. Sometimes you’re uncomfortable in your body simply because it’s changing, but this particular change is a good thing! Going through puberty is a sign that your body is working as it should, even if it feels weird. To try and block this transition from happening, or deliberately alter it, is to actively harm your body’s natural progression.

So yes, I do think that a trans person’s view of their body – that they were made for a different body and so they should change it – is not only wrong, but harmful to themselves in the long run. Why are we affirming this; giving people of all ages the means to scar themselves to feel good in the now?

Last bit before the TL;DR: if there’s anyone out there who thinks God won’t except them for any reason that you can think of, I’m gonna stop you right there. There is grace for you. Yes, even for that; please refer to my pinned post. And also this.

My explanation doesn’t cover all bases I’m sure, but the TL;DR is that the human body is a sacred thing designed by God, with care, made differently and specifically for every individual person, and it is medical malpractice (evil) to alter it within the context of transgenderism. If you have undergone the gender transition at any time – or have done anything else, ever – God still loves you with his whole heart, and He wants you to let Him help you with whatever may have dragged you down this time. Even if it was self-inflicted.

Lastly, some stuff I didn’t know how to cleanly fit into All That

*it is worth noting that basically everyone has a skewed perception of themselves about different things and to different degrees, but in this context I mean “a skewed perception of how a trans person relates to their body”

Creation was deemed “good” before people, but after people, God declared it “very good.” Again, in Genesis 1. I literally cannot stress enough how much God wants people to come to Him for whatever the reason

Chloe Cole's discussion with Dr. Peterson + the comment section and the testimonies in it

this post