#listen it's an easy car repair

[brenna]

the vibe for june 18th is doing it for myself. changed out my own battery (even though it was both raining and a heatwave), brushed and clipped the cats' claws, made dinner, did dishes, then wrote. amazing what you do when you take a day off work.

[jolapeno]

anytime

javier peña x f!reader

summary: “Thank you for coming with me,” you whisper. Nodding, he feels you follow his path—dropping, scorching his face, tracing the place where the hair sits atop his lip. “Anytime, cariño.” “Anytime, really?”

wordcount: 3.1k. warnings: fluff. bestfriends to lovers. banter. reader wears a dress and has a gloss on lips. no physical description. javi calls reader solecito as a nickname only. likely warnings for spelling as i wrote this on my phone. an: huge thanks to @wildemaven for creating this moodboard (pls go show it some love), letting me make a banner from it, and then letting me write this for Javi instead of Frankie. bby, i hope you like this.

Javi had never been good at avoiding challenging situations.

For the longest time, he’s been finding himself in the centre of a whirlwind—whether in Bogotá, Cali or apparently even back home.

You, his friend, best friend—a well-kept secret, tucked away in his chest, not shared with a soul when he was away. You were a thing that he’d clutched close to his chest from the moment the two of you had first gotten close, through his failed engagement and even more so when he left for Colombia. You, in all your understanding, hugging him, telling him he’d be great, amazing, the very best.

Both of you were younger then, less worn down by life, its many obstacles and all the other things.

You best not become best friends with anyone over there, Peña. As if anyone could annoy me as much as you, solecito.

In the brief interim of his return, you hadn’t appeared all that different. You may have had a job, a house—drove a slightly better car than when the two of you were staying out at all hours—but you, at your core remained very much the fucking same.

Still just as understanding, as kind. A person who got him, without really needing to try.

For Javi, the best thing—outside of you being you and the monthly calls you made him promise to keep when he was drowning in murder, drugs and Escobar—is that you never ask him about it. Any of it.

You had always let him pretend, escape, listen to you fill him in on gossip—things such as disagreements over the size of rhubarb and whether someone was having an affair. A thing you did even when he came back. Even more grateful for it then, when he grew tired of the questions, the compliments, the everything.

Its why he didn’t tell you when he would land back in Laredo for good. Just waiting, standing outside your place, leaning against your car as you walk down the street—eyes brushing over him, pausing, before he gets to see that smile. That signature fucking smile.

When he’d left the first time, he remembers how you’d lingered near your car, unwilling to climb into your bright yellow death trap—the entire reason he called you solecito to begin with—wearing the beginnings of that smile even then.

The difference is now he knows that there was something under it. Hidden, held back, kept from him.

It’s why it meant so much to him when he saw it in all its glory, all alight, blooming and somehow healing.

He can’t explain it, but it repairs strands inside of him. Your presence alone continuing to do so when he meets you for lunches, coffees, and late-night drinks. In exchange, he makes you laugh, your head thrown back as he tells you about whatever he did on the ranch—all of it comical, apparently. Because the idea of him, Javier Peña doing ranch work brought tears to your eyes.

“You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?” you splutter, taking a mouthful of your beer as you narrow your eyes.

Nodding, he leans back into the booth, arm stretched out, picking and picking—the label crumbling from the sweating bottle. “Yeah. Bet you’re upset you don’t get to see me herd cattle and mend fences.”

“Oh, yeah. One-hundred-percent.”

Shrugging, he grins—an easy task with you. A thing that has always been that way, even when he turned up at your door when he couldn’t get married; even when the two of you sat under the stars when he told you about possibly going to Colombia. You still made him grin—even when things weren’t fucking easy at all.

“I’ll add it to my to-do list—visit Peña on the ranch—it’s currently sat under finding a dress, a boyfriend and the will to fucking live.”

Snorting, he traces his bottom lip with his thumb.

Your face scrutinises him, before rolling your eyes. And he just waits—because you always spill eventually.

One. Two. Th—

Fine, you huff, before it unravels from you. How the wedding of your work colleague is close, closer than I thought and you’re tired of attending these things alone, circled like a fucking fish by single sharks.

And he’s listening, taking it in. Trying to not wince at how high-pitched you’ve got as you’ve ranted.

Mainly, Javi finds there’s more questions rising than answers provided.

One singular one rising to the top. A thing he’s wanted to ask for the last few weeks. Not in a rude way, or in the way it burns inside his chest when he talks to you on the phone and he has to bury it. But, it’s there, bubbling, wishing to escape and know. It's even louder when the two of you are like this, crammed in a space, laughing, smiling, sharing, wondering—

Why are you even single? How are you?

You’ve mentioned people—names, here and there when the two of you had been on the phone. Them fluttering out before you can pull them back, but then they’re forgotten. Javi, I get one call a month—let me tell you about the cattle war going off. And, in a way, he didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to know, so he never asked.

Now, it’s all he wants to ask.

Because you’re… you. You’re brilliant, beautiful—funny, clever, witty. And yet—

“—so, now it’s a week out, and I need to find a dress, a date and drive there to watch another person I know get married.”

He knows he should busy his mouth with the bottle—wrap his odd idea in beer. But, that part of him—the one which wants to help, solve issues, and be useful—rises up in him like a phoenix left from the ashes of Colombia.

“I’ll go with you.”

He expects the pause, even braces for the look of shock.

He doesn’t expect the smirk. Doesn’t expect the way it spreads out, to hit your eyes. How under the low-bar light over the table, it makes your eyes glimmer and fucking shimmer.

“You want to go to a wedding with me?”

Shrugging, he picks off the last part of the label—the mess of it all circling around where the glass meets the wood.

Mirroring him, you shrug. “Alright.”

“Alright.”

He should take his eyes off you, but he finds he can’t.

Javi hasn’t been able to since you stepped out of your place, a handful of your dress as you locked up—stepping down your steps to his car, letting it flutter down to your ankles.

You look like a fucking dream.

A thought he knows he shouldn’t have—but has all the same. His heart staggered, half-halting in its hammering as his hands paused in their drumming on the steering wheel; his glasses slid down his nose, his skin suddenly warm all over, even if his jacket was already splayed out across the backseat.

Close your mouth, Peña.

I’m chewing gum, solecito.

Yeah, that’s why your mouth is open.

It hadn’t passed his notice that you were good-looking before today. He’s known you were, had always known it—he had eyes, after all. But, he’d always felt there was a line. A line the two of you never delved too close to step over. The sign above both of your heads already illuminated in bright bulbs and flashing lights:

JUST FRIENDS.

Until this, anyway. This thing that can only be described as the longest one-hour drive he’s ever been on. And he used to do recon with Murphy.

Because you’re teasing, taunting him. All in that usual way that you do. And it’s so easy to flirt back, to let line after line roll, but he has begun to spot you squirming.

Doing so while matching his suit in a deep brown shade—chosen by him, ‘pick a colour suit, Javi’. Adding a tinge to some of your comments—things that if said by someone that wasn’t you, he’d ask them (flirtingly) if they were coming on to him.

But with you, it’s something he can never be sure. Never something that can be completely understood, known, cracked or figured out. In the same way, he can’t understand how your perfume keeps following him. How it embeds itself into the cabin of his truck when he picks you up, sews itself into his clothing when the two of you meet—and right now, is attempting to bury itself in his skin, muscles, and bones.

“You’ve been abnormally quiet.”

Smirking, he snorts. Fingers smoothing out his hair as he swings into a spot—the tyres crunching over the gravel. “Have I? Or have you just not shut up.”

“Rude.”

Laughing, he cuts the engine—hands resting on the top of his thighs, not missing the way your eyes follow his movements before clearing your throat. It shifts something in him, makes a little part of him surge, like the smallest of fireworks suddenly erupting in his chest.

Something he forces himself to shut down the moment you shove open your door, slipping out, as he grabs his jacket.

“Do I need to be worried about you crying today, solecito?”

Rearranging your dress, and slipping the strap of your bag over your shoulder, you squint as you stand tall, hand covering your brow as you meet his gaze.

And fuck, with this backdrop, even squinting, you look beautiful, radiant, stunning all over again. Somehow his brain having forgotten when you were next to him, when you were acting as if this was the most normal fucking thing they’ve ever done.

It isn’t.

Something he’s becoming more aware of as his throat goes dry, and his thoughts slow to nothing—

“No, you’re good. Your mouth is open again.”

You say it with a smirk, all teasing—making heat lick up his spine all over again. And, if you were anyone else, he’d have already pulled you close, tilted your chin up, and likely smothered your mouth with his.

But, you’re his friend—his best friend. The one solid thing he’s had in his life since he became a name, a poster, a hero.

“C’mon,” you say, turning on your heel as you head in the direction of the entrance, him following, jacket slipping on as he mutters mouth isn’t fucking open under his breath.

Even if he knows it was. Even if he’s desperately trying to stop his eyes from descending down to your hips, eyes fixated on the way you walk with ease to the wooden sign which greets all the guests.

He knows, due to his absence from home, there haven’t been many weddings he’s attended. Least of all like this. But even he thinks this is over the top, suddenly understanding why you hadn’t wanted to come alone. Because grand doesn’t quite cover it—not after the last one he’d attended.

This one has flickering candles lit in the day, waiters all set to hand glasses of bubbles and offer little mouthfuls of flavour on silver trays. Then, there’s the backdrop—the enormity of the building, only for you to tell him that it’s an outside wedding.

It’s more of a comfort as to why his hand drops to the small of your back than anything else. A need to be rooted, to feel calmer as he nods at passing people he doesn’t know (and hopes don’t know him), feeling you curl into him subconsciously, your bag swinging between the two of you both—affording a gap, forcing it, in fact.

The ceremony will start soon.

He overhears it, as he assumes you do, because your fingers wrap around his wrist—taking it from your back, before your palm meets his, and then you’re guiding, leading. Dragging him. All willingly to the back of the building where he sees it—the makeshift aisle. A wooden arch, and lots of deep orange-brown chairs all line up on either side of an orange aisle.

“Glad we chose brown now,” he murmurs.

“Does it make you think, y’know—being at a wedding?”

He swallows. Because it’s a loaded question.

One he assumes has been sitting all politely on the tip of your tongue since you sat beside him in his vehicle. It’s why his eyes watch you carefully as you grab the two of them a flute each from a passing waiter. Handing it to him, adding nothing—not rescuing him. Just waiting instead, doing that thing you do, where your eyes widen as you wait, trying to look all innocent even though it’s you who has just dropped a live grenade into the centre of the conversation.

Shaking his head, he snorts. “No. Not really. Knew… I knew deep down it wasn’t right. Her… and me.”

“You got any idea what’s right?”

You take a sip this time when the question lands, it again sparkling in glittered innocence, the softest of smiles pressed against the glass.

You he thinks. But he swallows that away and says ‘Not a fucking clue’ instead.

Throughout the day, he’s been desperate for a reason to stop looking at you.

So far, he’s found none.

Bits and pieces of things Murphy used to say, the words he’d drop into conversation when talking about his wife: how he knew, why she was the one, all coming back to him in drips and drops.

It dawns on him, the same as it had done since before he went to Cali, that you might mean a little more than a friend. A lot of what Murphy used to say, so easily applied to how Javi felt about you.

You make him feel calmer, create a space where he can relax, really unwind. It’s easy, uncomplicated, when he’s with you—from the conversation to the things he thinks. Complex balled thoughts stretch out until they’re in easy-to-decipher lines, able to process, able to understand.

He even told you about the boats.

A secret he’d have been prepared to take to the grave, if not for the fact you pointed out he wasn’t sleeping. Your eyes watching, pleading, don’t lie to me. And fuck, he couldn’t—not even if he wanted to.

That should have been the first sign.

He guesses he should be thankful today has been stuffed with more of them. One after the other. From the way you made sure to make him a plate of only his favourite things, to the way you knew when he needed a bit of space from the thousand questions as to how you both knew one another, and what he does.

Now, Javi is on the sidelines, admiring you in a way that makes his heart double in size.

Your dress skims around your calves as you dance—your arms rising above your head, glee stitched itself from cheek to cheek. On occasion, time halts when your eyes land on his—stealing whatever thought he had, only resuming normality when you close your eyes, belting out the lyrics to the song.

Mainly, the thought he finds which keeps returning is: I wanna do this with you again. any place. any time.

A hollowness scratches out in his chest as he lets himself acknowledge it. A thickness growing in his throat, a sorrowness weighs down on his shoulders as he nurses his glass—hand in his trouser pocket, telling himself he should be content he got to be on your arm, got to have you against him during a slow dance over an hour ago. That he gets to see you smile, hear your laugh—even know you.

“Hey, Peña.”

“Hey solecito.”

You grin—a little breathless, the music having changed, becoming slower, softer—wrenching the glass from his hand as you drain it.

“Fuck me. Y’thirsty?”

“Very. You’d know if you had any rhythm.”

He pinches you, lightly—teasingly. Your grin shifts into a laugh, tucking yourself in against him, arm around his back. And fuck, the way you’re looking up at him, he wants to warn you.

If you look at me like that, I’m going to kiss you.

Javi wonders what you’d do if you did. Whether you’d pull away, hissing the two of you are friends. Or whether you’d kiss him back.

“Want to get some fresh air?” you ask, your words against his ear—lips so close to ghosting his skin.

“Sure.”

It’s cooler when the two of you step out from under the marquee, the music getting quieter when your fingers loop in his, guiding, easing him around plant pots and tall trees, until the two of you are descending marble stairs and past iron fencing, to take him to the perimeter, to the view looking out over the city.

He watches as you step forward, fingers around the iron fencing, leaning, staring out as you let out a heavy sigh. One laced with things he wants to ask for, tug it from you, let you unload whatever is weighing on you—because that’s what you both do for one another.

You make it easy.

Make it all bearable.

But, whether you mean to, or not, you shiver. A light one, barely noticeable by most—but he isn’t most. His fingers are already at the button, undoing it, sliding his jacket down his arms before he places it over your shoulders, watching your head turn, meeting his gaze.

“You look really pretty.”

Flicking your eyes down, you smile. Sweetly. Unreadably. “Well, you’ve always been pretty.”

“Pretty?”

Laughing, your fingers tug his jacket closer, burying yourself in it. “The prettiest, Javier.”

Leaning beside you, he feels the metal from the railings, you’re both resting on, cut into his palms. He wonders if you feel the same, your dress billowing in the gentle breeze as the two of you stare off into the distance, spotting the flickering lights of a city, of homes tucking in for the night.

Then he turns his head, finding you already watching him, studying him in a similar way as you were before.

And, he lets his eyes drop to your mouth. A sign. A signal. It’s not the first time, usually, he does so when you’re not looking, letting himself trace the curve of your lips. Now, he stares at the way your gloss has long since gone, left behind on glasses and straws.

“Thank you for coming with me,” you whisper.

Nodding, he feels you follow his path—dropping, scorching his face, tracing where the hair sits atop his lip.

“Anytime, cariño.”

“Anytime, really?”

Nodding, he swallows. A thousand things he’s thought, and felt, all rushing to the surface—unwilling to bury itself, to descend under the usual guilt and feelings of inadequacies when it comes to you.

“I’d do anything for you.”

Smirking, you tilt your head. “Anything?”

Biting your lip, he feels it—something thrumming in him, being plucked.

“Will you kiss me?”

“I could…”

Your brows rise, a louder cheer coming from inside, but it doesn’t do anything to tear your eyes away from the other.

The whole world could slowly vanish from around the two of you, and all he’d want is just to stare at you.

“But?” you ask, delicately.

Almost so softly, it makes his chest ache.

Dipping his head, he lets his gaze wash over the place again—the rolling land, the trees, the houses in the distance.

“If I kiss you, I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

You slide closer, shoulder to shoulder, eyes scorching his jaw, his neck, the side profile he can feel you tracing with your gaze.

“Then don’t,” you say.

His neck almost cracks with the quickness of his movement, his eyes scanning, reading, a part of him wanting to step back, and protect you. Because he’s not sure about the parts of him you’d find easy to love—

“You don’t know what you’re—“

“Don’t care,” you interrupt, fingers twitching on the lapel of his jacket. “I know you—Javi, not Agent Peña. I know the boy who cloud-watched with me when my parents wouldn’t stop fighting; I know the man who told me to stop sending him postcards from the town shop—but also whispered that he liked them.”

Snorting, he smiles.

“So, if you want to, no pressure—but, I think you should kiss me.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you bite your cheek. “Think you’ve wasted a lot of time not kissing me already, honestly.”

Of course you do, he thinks. And then he kisses you, palms on your cheeks, slanting his mouth over yours.

And fuck, it’s the best fucking thing he’s ever done.

an: honestly, this made me so fucking happy to write.

[hoe4sports]

How this ends p5

Fridolina Rolfo ft Alexia Putellas x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 alternate

Author’s note: Here is the ending to the “how this ends”. I hope you have enjoyed my series, and that you keep reading my stories.

Warning: non

Summary: Alexia tries to repair what she once broke.

-

After coming home from your trip to Sweden with Fridolina, Alexia had begged you to come see her. At first, you bluntly refused. Never again, you promised yourself. But then. the leafes turned brown, and the ocean changed into a temperature only a fisherman could handle swimming in. Just like the seasons changed, you came around and agreed to meet her.

Picking a spot to meet her wasnt as easy as it seems. She suggested to meet up at her place, but you refused. You decided that meeting up in what once was your own homes would remind you of too many good memories and you would end up forgiving her on the spot.

Meeting up at Fridolina's place, just felt inapropriate. You had too many good memories with her to ruin your peace. It wasnt like you still loved Alexia. You loved her, but like the number of dates she took you to declined, so did your feelings for her. Fridolina picked up the pieces of what Alexia broke, and she worked hard every single day to glue it back togeter.

Arriving at the cafe, you immediately spotted Alexia among the tables. You felt your heart drop to your gut at the sight of her. She was wearing a cap covering her dark baggy eyes as she looked down. Her outfit didn’t resemble something Alexia would normally wear, only a plain pair of jeans with a stain and a white t-shirt.

Even though you felt less affected by the breakup by the day, just like your wounds had started closing up: they definitely hadn’t healed. You felt like your stomach was about to twist inside out, and tried to take a deep breath which only ended in you suppressing a yawn that turned into an embarrassingly squeak.

Alexia immediately shot her head up in your direction before practically tumbling out of her chair. Her frame moved towards you with her hands reached out in your direction. You looked at her hands. The gesture was out of pure routine after spending 13 years together. When she reached you, you gave her an apologetic look and she pulled her hands in, slightly redder in the face.

“hi” you tried to say confidently, but it ended up being more of a whisper. “Hola” she whispered back.

The pair of you standing completely dumbfounded in the middle of the cafe surrounded by couples and families. The tension was thick, and it made you feel like you were on display for the whole cafe to see. “Wanna walk?” Alexia asked, but it ended up being more a telling you instead of a suggestion.

It’s odd, you think. You haven’t seen Alexia since before the summer. Now, it’s late September. Everything is different now. It’s has all changed. Eventually, you moved out of Frido’s apartment into your own home. A place with only one tooth brush, one hairbrush and one water bottle. A home where you could eat lasagna on a Wednesday because you didn’t need to cook for an athlete.

As you walk quietly on the gravel listening to nothing but your shoes hitting the rocks; the sound of the silence becomes unbearable. “How are you?” Alexia spills out. You raise your brow at her. Did she really just ask how I am, you think to yourself while internally rolling your eyes.

“I’m feeling pretty good. Going to Sweden this summer and staying with Fridolina’s family really really helped.” You practically spit the words at her.

A part of you feels good saying that harsh truth to her, to be brutally honest, but a part of you does still love Alexia. You see the hurt on her face, but she hurt you. She chose this for you, and she dosent get to slip away from the responsibility of the situation.

“What’s the deal with Frido? Why do you car-“

“Listen, Alexia. I’m gonna be transparent here. I’m only here because I wanted to tell you in person, before it comes out through media; I’m seeing Fridolina.”

“It’s kinda hard not seeing her when you stay at her place, no?” Alexia laughs.

Your eyes tear up.

“I love her, Alexia. I’m in love with Fridolina.”

-

After your walk with Alexia, that was cut short because of your confession; you retreated hom to Frido. The only issue with what you had just confessed to Alexia, was that you hadn’t confessed your feelings to the girl you were in love with.

When you got home, you immediately popped yourself into the couch lying down on your belly. You let out an audible sigh before laying your head down. Why did it feel like a conflict of interest?

You knew that you loved Frido, and you had loved her since you woke up from mourning your relationship. Frido had been there every step of the way. Always patient, always kind and always good. Frido was the greater woman. She was just perfect.

Abrudly, you were cut off from your own thoughts when Frido suddenly appeared from the corner. The pair of you both let out a scared scream before laughing at each other.

“Sötnos, how was your walk with Alexia? Did you get any answers?”

Frido moved towards you before sitting down next to your head. Her hands running through your somewhat knotted hair from the wind at the park.

“Yes”

You sat yourself up, looking straight into Fridolina’s blue sparkling eyes.

“Not to be noisy, but. And?”

You moved towards her face, gently reaching your fingertips towards her face. Your face just centimetres from the Swede.

“And…” you repeated silently, barely whispering trying to catch your breath.

“Y/n? What did you talk about? The cat? A possible regroup? Fill me in please! And what?”

The way Frido’s natural curiosity kicked in had you grinning at her. You looked at Frido’s lips before looking at her eyes again. Your hand tucking away a few strands of her blonde hair. A soft smile on your face leaning towards her ear before whispering softly:

“And, I love you, Fridolina Rölfo”

-

You and Frido had just come home from Mapi and Ingrid’s when you felt a sudden overwhelming feeling of missing your cat. Your tears were dripping, softly hitting Frido’s couch while looking at your phone. The screen was showing you your cat’s adorable little face. Alexia always complained about how many pictures you took of the little guy, but you loved him to pieces. She always complained about cat litter. How expensive cat food was. How expensive taking him to the vet was. How he couldn’t be in your bedroom or in the kitchen. But you didn’t care. He had never betrayed you, so you never betrayed him.

You looked at his sweet little face while swiping to the next picture. It was a picture of him sleeping on your chest while you were fast asleep aswell. The next picture was your cat with a flower on his head. After the flower picture, a video of him chasing a robotic fish popped up. Your tears kept pressing while you laughed at yourself.

“YN? You will never guess what Mapi just texted me! Oh, are you crying?” Fridolina said as she barged in clearly in shock. You looked up at her, and she was already moving towards you in the speed of lightning. Her hands reached out to you as she arrived at the couch and your hands immediately intertwined with hers.

“I.. It’s just silly, don’t worry about it”

“Skatt, it’s never silly if something makes you cry. I always worry about you. Is there anything I can do to help? Hell, I’ll find a way to catch the moon if that is what you want.”

You flashed your screen towards Frido who looked back at your black cat.

“Is it your cat?”

“It was, but he lives with Alexia now. She refuses to give him to me..”

“Do you want him back?”

“Yes, what kind of question is that? Of course I do”

“Okay; you get what you want, love.”

“But there will be cat litter, he has midnight zoomies and he loves to yell, AND you don’t even like cats?”

“If he makes you happy, then I’ll find a way to get him to you. I’ll be any type of animal person for you. Maybe not a spider or a snake, but a cat? No issues there!”

“But, Alexia dosent want to let him go”

“Don’t worry about the practicality, I’ll sort it out”

The next day, Frido arrives from training with her bag and your cat in a carrier, making you feel happier and more grateful than ever for finding someone that loves you the way you love them.

—

Your eyes filled with tears while looking down on the woman in front of you on one knee with a velvet box in her hands. The idea of marriage, a big grand wedding with all of the people the you loved was something that had lingered in your head since you saw your mum in her wedding dress back when you were 6. Since that moment, you knew you wanted marriage.

Frido’s blue eyes were sparkling reflections the stars in the dark sky above her. She had gone above and beyond to make the proposal special. With the help of Ingrid, she had planned a secret trip for you to Lake Como where she planned to purpose by the gate to heaven at the date of your 3 year anniversary. Frido being Frido, didn’t stop there.

“Y/N, from bestfriends to girlfriends. You are the light of my life. The last years with you have been the best years of my life. I might not have gotten the chance to grow up with you, but I’m ready to grow old with you. Y/N, will you please do me the honour of marrying me?”

“Yes, Fridolina. Yes, yes, yes!” You cheered before throwing yourself around her. She caught you and spun you around in circles. It felt exactly like a scene from a romantic movie. Then, it was time for the ring. It was sparkly and grand, but elegant and classy. It was exactly what you wanted. You looked into Frido’s eyes as she slid the ring on your finger while tears of joy were rolling down your cheeks.

«Its perfect, its everything I’ve ever dreamed of. You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” You say as your tears spill down your cheeks while framing Frido’s cheeks with your hands.

“You deserve it, you are so good to me. You are perfect, everything I could’ve ever dreamed of. I would be a fool miss out on trying to wife you up” the last comment made you giggle leaving a smile of your fiancé’s face.

She then reached around her back and somehow pulled out a bouquet of flowers. Not roses, you don’t care much for roses. Alexia would buy you roses, and you’d say “thank you”. But you don’t care for roses. The flowers Frido picked out for you, were bluebells: your favourite. A flower that was rare in the nature, even rarer in shops. The gesture brought tears to your eyes.

“Close your eyes, baby” Frido commanded before she put her hands carefully on top of your eyes.

“There is more?” You whisper, a hushed cry chocking your sob. You felt slightly confused, but you trusted her. She turned you around to face another direction. Music started playing, or rather a live band started playing Ed Sheeran’s “perfect”. Her hands dropped from your eyes and you immediately opened them. There, just 50 meters away from you; You and Frido’s families and friends, 60 people flown in from all over the world to be there on your special day. Your nearest friends came sprinting towards you before wrapping you into a hug knowing that all the pain was worth it.

[writeforfandoms]

Fast Car 1

Find my Ghost masterlist

My second submission for the Ghost Challenge hosted by @glitterypirateduck

You can't believe your luck when you find what looks like a functional car, an excellent way to repair your own car. Turns out you were right not to trust your luck. The truck has owners, and those owners are not happy to find you rummaging around. Oops?

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

For this one, I used a few different prompts through the whole fic - have fun finding each of them! #'s 3, 9, 14, 18, 27

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, light violence, swearing, zombie au, mention of cannibals.

You slowed when you spotted the truck. The truck itself wasn't that unusual - they existed aplenty out here in the country, away from the remains of civilization. 

But this one had fresh tire tracks behind it, the ground still a little soft with the rains from last night. 

You hadn't seen a working vehicle in… months. Maybe a year. 

Of course, you could have a working vehicle of you could find a replacement part. 

Maybe you'd take a look. Real quiet and sneaky like. Just a little look. Just in case you could find a complementary part. 

You weren't stupid, though. You looked around carefully, checked the footprints around the truck. Checked for any movement. Listened hard too. 

But there was nothing. Whoever had come in the truck was long gone, but could be back any time. If you wanted to try grabbing the part, the time was now. 

The doors were unlocked, half luck and half the times. No need to lock the doors when there was nobody around to rob you blind. It was easy to pop the hood. One more look around showed that the coast was still clear. 

So you pushed the hood open to investigate, humming to yourself. 

“You need a tune up,” you muttered to the truck with sympathy. “I can tell. Too bad I'm not sticking around to help.” 

You patted the headlight but continued to look. You needed to hurry up now. 

You spied what you needed and smiled. Close enough to work. 

“Hey!”

The shout made you jump and very nearly bang your head on the hood, and you jerked around to spot someone walking towards the truck quickly, long strides eating up the distance. 

You took off. No way you were sticking around to get in an argument with the owner. Or skip straight to getting killed. 

You didn't get very far before someone grabbed your arm, nearly wrenching it with the force of his yank. You yelped, the sudden pain startling, and swung around with his pull. 

The man was huge, not just tall but broad. Dark makeup smeared around his eyes made him even more imposing. 

“Let go!” You kicked out at him, clumsy but determined. 

He moved out of the way easily, not even shifting his grip. One more tug sent you off-balance, and he twisted your arm behind you and up, your breath hitching in your throat. 

“Stop struggling.” The rough words made you pause, swallowing hard against the noise of pain that wanted to escape. 

The one approaching the two of you seemed in less of a hurry now that you were subdued, adjusting his hat as he eyed the two of you. Mainly you, probably. You narrowed your eyes at him, tempted to bare your teeth. 

“What were you doing, eh?” He stopped, one hand planted on his hip, the other holding his gun. 

Well. You'd survived two years of fucking zombies and zealots and shit, only to get killed because of a car. Seemed fitting. 

“Looking for a snack,” you drawled, wincing when the man behind you tugged your arm a little higher. 

The hatted one eyed you, shrewd and cold, calculating. A sudden, terrible thought made you swallow hard. 

“Promise I'm not a good snack, though,” you said, going up onto your toes to try to alleviate some of the ache in your arm and shoulder. “Definitely not edible.” 

The man in front of you blinked, apparently caught off guard. 

“You sayin’ you've run into cannibals?” The man behind you asked, incredulous. His grip didn't waver. 

“Well, I ran away from them,” you pointed out, very reasonably. “Does that mean you're not interested in eating me?”

“Not even close.” The one in front of you snorted, stepping closer so he could look down at you. “Why were you poking around in the car?” 

“Looking for kittens,” you snarked, even as pain tightened your voice. “They like warm spots, you know.” 

You yelped as your arm wrenched higher, shoulder straining against the pressure. Tears sprang to your eyes, unbidden and unwanted. 

“Got any friends hiding out?” The hatted one didn't change his tone, still watching you. 

Sure, you could keep mouthing off. But your shoulder ached now, and you were worried they'd dislocate it and then leave you. That would be a death sentence, just a slow one. 

“No,” you grumbled, head dropping. “It's just me. Just been me for a while.” 

To your surprise, the man behind you dropped your arm and stepped back. You stumbled from the sudden release, quickly pulling your arm in to your chest. The throbbing hadn't stopped yet, but at least it didn't hurt so badly. 

“What did you do to the car?” Though there was no visible change to the two men, you didn't doubt they'd grab you again if needed. Being released was a reward for honesty, leaving you with a choice to make. 

“Nothing.” Sulking just a little, you crossed your arms over your chest. “I was looking for a part, but I didn't get a chance to grab it. The car is fine.”

“Hm.” He tipped his head, studying you more closely now. “You a mechanic?”

“I was,” you said, a little wry. “Not much to work on anymore, with most of my customers dead or worse.” 

The big guy made a soft noise of amusement. You eyed him for a moment before returning your focus to the hatted man. 

He nodded once, slowly, gaze still focused on you. “Looking for somewhere to settle, then?”

You shrugged, feeling a little squirrelly now. “Haven't decided.” 

“Tell you what.” He shifted his weight forward, arms crossing over his chest. “We've got a safe place. A town.” 

“Do you?” You didn't bother to keep the skepticism from your voice, even as you rocked back on your heels. “Heard that one before.” 

“If you're really a mechanic, you're welcome in town.” He continued as if you hadn't spoken. “Your choice. Think about it. If you want to come with, meet us there.” He nodded at the decrepit gas station not far from where you all stood. “Tomorrow morning, an hour after sunrise.” 

You eyed him suspiciously. It could be a trick still, a way to get you to lower your guard. It could also be legit. Maybe. Possibly. The chance was very low… but not zero. 

Neither of them moved when you took a careful step back, then another. 

“Tomorrow morning,” the one reminded you, gaze fixed on you still, far too intense for your liking. 

“I'll think about it.” You hadn't really meant to say that, but, well… oh well. You backed away to a safe distance before you turned and walked away. 

You listened for footsteps behind you, and took the long route back to where you'd stashed your things for the day. You even paused multiple times to check behind you and around you. 

And not just to check for zombies, either. 

You didn't trust them, not even a little. The ache in your shoulder hadn't gone away yet, either. 

But… if they were telling the truth… Safety was the rarest commodity nowadays. 

You hadn't been kidding when you'd mentioned running away from cannibals. 

You settled back in a corner, pack held between your knees as you rummaged around for something to eat. You couldn't lie, the idea of somewhere safe to stay, at least for a while, was tempting. 

If you went, it sounded like you'd be stuck in the car with the big guy who'd grabbed you. Eh. You'd just not sit next to him, and undoubtedly once you were in town, it would be easy to avoid him. You didn't have to like him, just tolerate him enough to get in. 

And then avoid him like… Well, like a zombie.

You snickered at your own humor. 

Mind more or less made up, you settled in to have your dinner and rest for the night. You'd already blockaded yourself in pretty well. No zombies were getting in while you slept. 

And tomorrow you'd see if they really had a safe town.

[adrealucia]

New Beginnings

Summary: After relocating to the picturesque town of Puerto Lobos in Mexico, you quickly realize that your car is in dire need of repair. With little knowledge of local mechanics, a friendly neighbor recommends you visit Diaz’s Garage, run by the talented Sean Diaz. Sean, a hardworking and kind-hearted mechanic, welcomes you warmly. As he works on your car, you strike up a conversation, discovering that Sean and his brother Daniel moved to Puerto Lobos a few years ago, seeking peace and a new beginning after a tumultuous past. Sean’s dedication to his work is evident as he skillfully repairs your car. Meanwhile, Daniel, now sixteen, balances school and helps out around the garage. He occasionally joins in the conversation, displaying his sharp wit and curiosity about your life and experiences. As the days pass, you find yourself drawn to the garage, not just for the impeccable car service, but for the genuine companionship you find with Sean and Daniel. You start to learn more about their past, their dreams, and the close-knit bond that holds them together. In return, you share your own stories, finding solace and understanding in their company. tags: post Blood Brothers ending, Sean Diaz x Reader, might contain smut in future chapters, lots of fluff, romantic fluff, overall just fucking wholesome, obviously mentions Daniel quite often, sfw in the beginning, maybe nsfw in the future idk

Chapter one

The dusty road leading to Puerto Lobos was bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon sun. As you navigated your car through the narrow streets, the vibrant colors of the town's buildings and the sound of distant waves crashing against the shore offered a warm welcome. You had moved to this small coastal town in Mexico seeking a fresh start, a place where the past could be left behind and new memories could be made. It wasn’t easy getting here, but it was all worth it in the end. Just the thought of your beautiful small house right at the beach makes you feel accomplished and happy all over again. 

But today, your thoughts were dominated by the sputtering sound coming from your car. To be completely fair your car had gone a long way, all the way down from Washington to here, Puerto Lobos. With a frustrated sigh, you pulled over to the side of the road, glancing at the smoke wafting from the hood. Well, this certainly didn’t take very long. You have been having these kinds of problems with your car for a whole while now, but it’s never been this bad before. A friendly local had mentioned a reliable mechanic in town—Diaz’s Garage. You checked the address scribbled on a piece of paper “Oh that’s actually not far at all” you whispered to yourself and set off on foot, hoping that the mechanic could work his magic.

The garage was a modest but bustling place, filled with the scent of oil and the clinking sounds of tools. Inside, a tall young man with dark hair and a focused expression was working on a vintage truck. He looked up as you approached, wiping his hands on a rag and offering a welcoming smile. At first, you do not notice it but giving a closer look you notice that he is missing an eye. You wonder what had happened to him? 

"Hey there," he greeted, his eyes kind yet weary. "Can I help you with something?"

Relieved that he did not start speaking Spanish you gave him a thankful smile and you explained your car trouble, he nodded, introducing himself as Sean Diaz. As he listened, you couldn't help but notice the way he moved with quiet confidence, every action precise and efficient. It was clear that this garage was not just his workplace but his sanctuary.

You led him to your car, and with a few deft movements, he began diagnosing the problem. "Looks like it’s going to need some work, but nothing I can’t handle," he said reassuringly. "Why don’t you come back in a couple of hours? I should have it running smoothly by then." You sigh internally, it’s not like you thought that he would fix your car on the spot but you also did not really make a plan on what to do now. For a second you look around noticing you only ever drive through this part of down and have never actually explored it. Maybe you could find a nice place to sit down and have some food? 

“Thank you so much, I would have been totally lost if your shop hadn’t been near.” Thankfully you smile up at him again. It’s so good to finally meet someone who is actually fluent in English, even though practicing your Spanish can be fun as well. Usually, when you try to talk to natives they look at you all smiley and kind and the next thing they are doing is getting out their phone to open up the translator app. It’s kind of hard practicing your language skills when no one actually wants to try to communicate with you. But you are learning, just not as fast as you expected to, and since you already had a few years of Spanish classes in school you know most of the basics. You look up at the mechanic again and tilt your head a little bit to the side. “Say.. is there a good place for food around here? …that I can obviously reach by foot, that is.” He nods enthusiastically and gives you a reassuring tilt of his lips, a very kind smile. “Yea, actually just around the corner there is a little restaurant, if you don’t know about it I am sure many people would miss it. But when we moved here first this woman saved our asses. She doesn’t speak much English but just tell her I said hi and I bet she will cook you something very nice.” This actually sounds very nice you think to yourself and reach out your hand to give him a polite handshake. “Okay well thank you for the recommendation and also for trying to fix my car.” He accepts your handshake and chuckles lightly. “No worries and oh this should be easy to fix, gimme like let’s say two and a half hours and you can come back to a nice and well-working car.” 

“Alright see you in two and a half hours then.” You wave your hand as you are saying goodbye to him and turn around to walk the other way. The streets of Puerto Lobos were alive with activity—children playing, street vendors selling vibrant fruits and handmade crafts, and the distant sound of a song coming from speakers out of one of these stores adding a festive backdrop to the scene. As you wandered, you felt the first inklings of belonging in this charming town. He told you that the little restaurant was just around the corner but honestly as much as you were looking for it you could not find it. Well, Mr. Diaz also mentioned that if you didn’t know that it’s there you would surely miss it. You knew about these types of Restaurants where it kind of almost looked like you would walk into somebody’s actual home, so you decided to try and look around as if you were a native to this city. Which in theory was easy, but actually doing it didn’t change the fact that you are in fact not a fucking native. Suddenly the smell of fresh herbs and spices caught your nose and you looked around trying to figure out where this smell came from. After looking around for a while you actually found a little house that grasped your interest. The door was wide open and from the outside, you could see a tiny woman cooking something up. “That must be it.” 

Okay, now it would be time to pray that this woman would also actually understand what you want from her. “Please please, school just pay out this once.” you form your hands into a little prayer position as you walk up to the door. 

“Hola.” You say stepping into the little restaurant. The woman looks up at you and goes back to whatever she was doing before. Okay… she definitely knows that you are not from around here, so now you gotta use your poor Spanish skills, your hands, and your feet. This is going to be fucking embarrassing. 

“¿Puedo conseguir algo de comer aquí?” (can I get something to eat?) You ask while trying to do your best at pantomime. “Well, Mr. Diaz said you wouldn’t understand any English but he told me to say hi to you.” you felt like a total idiot talking English to this woman who obviously has no clue what you are trying to tell her. Though, as you say the name Diaz her head perks up and suddenly a lot of words that you do not understand are leaving her mouth at the speed of light. At first, you are a little unsure if she is mad and seconds away from kicking you out, but then she gives you a big smile and gestures to you to sit down. “Friend? Sean Diaz?” She asks with a heavy accent but you have no problem understanding that one word and the name of the mechanic. “Ah, Sí…” you say and nod your head while sitting down on one of the tables. She continues to speak Spanish but she doesn’t even really seem like she is trying to talk to you, more like she is talking to herself, so you are also not really trying to answer her. 

It doesn’t even take her long before she places a beverage on your table and makes a gesture that shows you should wait some more. It is a hot day so you thank her enthusiastically and take one sip of the drink that immediately helps against your dry throat. You have absolutely no clue what’s in this drink but you couldn’t bother less, this was fucking good. 

A few more minutes passed and the lady set down three big ass plates in front of you. Oh, how are you supposed to finish all of that? 

You ate as much as you could and thanked the woman like five times because Sean Diaz was right. She is a hell of a good cook. In the end, you couldn’t finish all three plates and had a bunch of leftovers, however, you decided it might be nice to bring these leftovers with you back to the Diaz shop. That would be nice of you and totally not weird right? 

Now just how were you going to ask her for bags? 

It took some time but in the end, you just had to mention Sean’s name one more time, probably paid her way too much money and somehow you ended up with a bag and even more food. She put some dessert into the bag as well, even though you tried to stop her but honestly, you wouldn’t have wanted to put up a fight against this lady. 

 When you returned to the garage, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the floor. Sean was just finishing up with your car, and beside him stood a younger boy with a mischievous grin. He was animatedly talking about his day at school, and Sean listened with the patience and attention of someone who deeply cared.

"Hey, you’re back…just in time," Sean called out, noticing your approach. "This is my brother, Daniel."

Daniel turned to you, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Hi! Sean fixed your car already? He's really good at this stuff."

You smiled, introducing yourself and thanking Sean for his help. “You found the restaurant?” he asked, smiling sheepishly down at you. For a second you could feel yourself blush, but why? “Yea took me some time… also I hope this is not weird or anything but I brought you my leftovers plus additional dessert. This lady must really love you because as soon as I said your name she stuffed these cakes into the bag.” Daniels’s mouth opened wide as he walked towards you, eyes fixated on the bag. “Woah I love Mrs. Perez and this is so kind of you because you must know my brother is a horrible cook.” Sean laughed so loud and kind-heartedly it seemed to warm your insides. They really seem to be nice people. “Well, she knows I am a bad cook, that's why she filled up this whole bag.” his loud laughing swelled down to a little chuckle. “Well… that’s very kind of you… actually, I haven’t asked your name yet, have I?” 

You shake your head and give him a reassuring smile, you couldn’t care less right now if this man asked you for your name because he already fixed your car and he made sure you got a shit ton of very good food. “Oh, I am (Y/N)” You set the bag down on a nearby table and watch as Daniel immediately goes to grab it and rummages through the bag. “Oh look Sean, she gave us Tarta de Queso!” 

You and Sean both couldn’t help but laugh a little at Daniel, even though he looked around sixteen to seventeen he still seemed to be very excited when it came to dessert. “Well, Daniel I think it would only be nice to share some of this cake with (Y/N) since she is the one responsible for our dinner.” He pointed at the cake and then over to you. You wouldn’t have brought it up but you also couldn’t lie, you really wanted to try a piece of this really delicious-looking cake. Daniel sighed but chuckled a bit “That only seems fair.” 

“Now I am going to pack this piece of cake up for you and then we will let you go, I am sure you have somewhere to be.” Said Sean as he took the bag and left you and Daniel alone in the garage. You and Daniel made some polite small talk, mostly talking about past experiences with the lady - or Mrs. Perez as you learned - from the restaurant. 

Sean didn’t take long and came back to hand you your very own bag filled with some cake and also a few more pastries. He gave you a little wink and placed a finger to his lips, showing you to keep quiet probably because of Daniel. He also handed you the keys to your now-repaired car. "It should be as good as new. If you have any more trouble, just come by." “Thank you so so much, I wouldn’t know what I would have done without you today.” You sigh and grab your keys. “How much do I owe you for this?” You gesture to the car, knowing that you most definitely don’t have enough cash on you. Sean just chuckled and shook his head. “Ah don’t worry the first time is on the house… also you brought us this whole bag of food.” 

Your eyes widen in disbelief, on the house? Wow, these people really are kind. “Oh, this is…” You’re lost for words for a second. “This is really really kind of you thank you so much.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, I like to help people out. Now if you ever need something just let us know.” He said as you slowly got into your car, nodded, and smiled up big at him. You wave to him and Daniel goodbye as you gently drive out of the garage. 

As you drove away, you couldn’t help but feel a connection forming. In this new place, amidst the beauty and simplicity of Puerto Lobos, you had found not just a skilled mechanic but potential friends in Sean and Daniel Diaz. Little did you know, this encounter was just the beginning of a journey that would intertwine your lives in ways you could never have imagined. authors note: omg okay I am so fucking nervous to post this, but also kind of excited!! I have been meaning to write a fic for quite some time now and I am so so happy to continue this story. If you've made it this far tysm and ily <3 I hope you liked the first chapter of my new story :) I already published it on ao3 (this was so tough to figure out since I never uploaded it on ao3 before) and I am still debating whether or not to post it on Wattpad as well. Anyway even though I am working on this fic now my requests are still open! might take me some time to finish them now, but I am so happy to be a part of this community :) <333

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Dignity

[ dark academia • Aemond x rich • female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, class inequalities ]

[ description: Aemond worked his whole life to get into the best university in the country. The class inequality he sees there strikes him, and the target of his hatred is a female classmate from his year, a rich girl from a wealthy family. However, it turns out that what was obvious to him is not so simple and he has to face the consequences of his own decisions. A lot of angst, bitchy, violent, mean Aemond. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He very quickly came to terms with the fact that life is not fair. He understood this when he watched his mother, worried, choosing between buying him a new sweatshirt and buying him a new textbook for school, between paying the heating bills and a new bed so they wouldn't all have to fit into one with an old, yellow mattress.

They didn't starve, they didn't walk around dirty, their mother made sure they looked like decent people, however, they were always lacking things, always had too little money for something.

Although his mother worked two jobs at school, she didn't earn as much as his friend's mother, who bought her T-shirts with Disney cartoon characters, had a whole pencil case of glitter pens and expensive chocolate croissants for her second breakfast.

He envied her and one day, when she wasn't looking, he stole her pensieve and threw it in the rubbish. She cried all day because of this, the pencil case was eventually found, however, she didn't want it anymore because it stank.

The next day she came to school with a new pencil case, even prettier.

From then on he decided that whatever he did would not change anything, so he chose not to worry about it and to stay away from such people. He was repulsed by their feeling that they could look down on him, that they were proud to have new, fashionable things, as if there was any merit in it.

They just got it and he didn't.

Something that could not be bought was intelligence, and he did not lack it.

Therefore, he decided to concentrate on his studies, spending whole days in the school library, borrowing thick, worn-out books to take home, having no money to buy new ones in the bookshop. He set himself the goal of getting into a degree in classical literature at the best, most prestigious university in the country by virtue of his academic results, to win a scholarship.

His mother was horrified by the idea, having no clue how she would help him pay for his stay in the capital, where everything was several times more expensive than in their city.

Not wanting to burden her more, to her despair, after high school classes he would go to work for a friend who ran a car repair shop, working as his helper, every paycheck saved up for his plan.

He felt like he was obsessed with it and did not accept the possibility that he might not succeed.

When applying for a scholarship, in addition to a written essay of at least a hundred pages about his favourite author, he had to appear in person for an interview.

Specially for this occasion, he bought himself an expensive shirt, smart trousers and a suit jacket for the first time and, dressed like this, went there with a beating heart.

The professors sitting in front of him seemed tired and weary of their work, sipping tea from beautiful, surely very expensive, porcelain cups. He looked at them trying to hide the disgust on his face, listening to their questions, which turned out to be trivially easy.

He saw how he was arousing their interest more and more with every minute with his attitude, they started asking him about his life, where he came from.

He sold them the heart-wrenching story of his childhood, the tale of his accident involving his nephew, through which he lost his eye, and then his slow road to the top, presenting himself as a young boy with dreams who had worked so hard for his success.

To his surprise it worked, and after a week he received a letter confirming that he had been awarded a scholarship and a place on his dream faculty.

He cried like a baby reading it several times, glad that no one was home at the time, feeling that he had finally managed to win something for himself in his life.

His mother burst with pride when she found out, while at the same time fearing how he would cope in this group, full of aristocrats and children of rich parents who could afford to simply buy them a place there.

He figured he would destroy them all, show them for who they really were.

He felt within himself some great need for revenge and atonement, although he did not know quite how he was supposed to express it.

He spotted his perfect target at the first meeting of his year with the professor who was to be their mentor during their stay at the University.

Despite the fact that they were all sitting in the same elegant uniforms with the intricate gold crest of their university, he saw that she was holding the latest model of phone in her hands, a beautiful gold ring with a sapphire on her middle finger and an old, expensive watch, surely inherited from some very wealthy and famous great-grandfather.

It came to his ears very quickly that her surname, Howard, was due to her grandfather on her father's side, the baron who had been given that title, which her family had boasted of ever since, living in their mansion in a village near the capital.

He looked at her and thought only of the fact that she was a fucking nepotistic, spoilt brat who never had to earn anything, who was taking the place of someone who really deserved it.

He very quickly caught a good rapport with a boy similar to himself, also from a small town from a working-class family, Criston. Like him, he owed his place to his education and scholarship, although he was not as harsh as he was in his assessment of their new friend.

"Oh, come on. Just concentrate on being content that you're here." He said one evening as they prepared for their first classes together. They were sitting in large, comfortable armchairs by the fireplace in the university's huge library filled with old, oak bookcases reaching the ceiling, filled to the brim with thick, dusty tomes.

He instantly fell in love with the place and only dreamed of spending whole evenings there, imagining how other students, writers and poets sat in his place. He hummed at his words, turning the page of the book he had just read, a history of ancient Greek literature.

"I'm concentrating on this, but when I look at her, I just feel sick. She's only here so her daddy baron can show off his daughter at the University. I have no respect for her and don't think she deserves any. The fact that she is here is a joke and one big misunderstanding." He muttered lowly, Criston sighed heavily, shaking his head, not having the strength to argue with him.

They both flinched when they heard someone's quiet footsteps, the figure of Howard appeared from among the bookcases with several books clutched to her chest and headed immediately for her entrance, her face pale, her lips clenched.

He swallowed loudly, feeling the cold sweat on his back at the thought that she had heard it all, and although he thought it was good for her that he had told the truth out loud, a sense of shame overcame him anyway.

Criston threw him a confused, horrified look and he lowered his gaze and grunted, letting out a loud breath, returning to his reading, recognising that the words of someone like him were meaningless to her anyway.

The next day was their first class with Professor Morris, in which they were to study Greek literature of the Classical, Hellenistic and Empire eras. Their professor, a short, smiling old man with big glasses, spoke with enthusiasm and energy surprisingly high for his age, introducing them to the subject and telling them what they would be working on first.

He said they would start with something simple, a collection of myths that, although passed down through generations and written down very late in history, were a source of inspiration that still stirred the minds of young artists and writers today.

He began with a question about who the Greek gods were in Greek mythology, Howard's hand shot up before he could think of anything.

"As far as the Olympian gods are concerned, they were imagined as humans, or rather the inhabitants of Hellada with the difference that they were immortal by drinking ambrosia and had various powers." She said quickly, their professor nodding at her words.

"That is true, Miss Howard. Why were they imagined as human beings and not, like the Christian God, as a superior, infallible entity?"

Howard's hand shot up again and he pressed his lips together, looking at her impatiently.

Stupid bitch.

"Because they were supposed to be the answer to what was happening around the living population, they were not the determinant of moral values, like the Christian God, but more like guardians whose care had to be constantly sought.

They loved and hated like ordinary people, they were eager for revenge, murder and rape, so they did not represent a pattern of behaviour, but rather depicted the unpredictability of nature and events in human life." She said without stammering, and he let out a loud breath, impatient.

She was doing this on purpose.

She wanted to prove him wrong.

He spent whole evenings reading and preparing for class and in the days that followed, he began to overtake her, watching with satisfaction as she turned to him over her shoulder with furrowed brows, impatient when it was him that their professor allowed to speak and not her.

They were at war.

He saw that she had her two friends with whom she went everywhere, naive girls from good homes who clung to her to wallow in her luxuries.

He felt like laughing at this sight.

He had the feeling that it was getting worse by the week, they were throwing hateful glances at each other in the corridors and shunning each other in the common rooms and the library, not wanting to bump into each other by accident.

He knew she was doing this to prove him wrong, to make herself feel the best again rather than because she was interested in literature.

After the first exams they both had very similar scores, but he felt a sense of pride when he saw on the posted list that he had scored one point more than her, a grimace of satisfaction showed on his face as he glanced in her direction indulgently.

Even though she had second place right after him she turned and walked towards the women's dormitory, clearly frustrated, making him feel better for the day.

And that's when he appeared.

Ronald Collins, a blushing man with slight curves, looking as if he was living in some sort of dreamy state had been introduced to them in class with their tutor and it appeared that he would be joining them mid-year.

No one understood how he managed to achieve this, he didn't look like a wealthy man, he smiled at everyone as if he were a priest at a sermon, with tenderness and care, as if he lived in a completely different reality. He and Criston would sometimes see him sitting on the cloisters with a notebook in his hand, gesticulating and talking to himself as if he were some inspired 19th century poet.

"What the fuck is his problem?" He muttered to Cole, recognising that this man was out of his mind.

In their first class together, however, he proved to them that he was something far more dangerous.

"Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet. Trash and kitsch, or sincere, sudden, fiery true love? There are different thoughts about this world-famous work today. What is your opinion?"

He and Howard automatically raised their hand, but Collins preceded them. The professor allowed him to speak first and, to everyone's surprise, he stood up, looking around the room.

"Pontius Pilate asked Christ - what is truth? But I ask you - what is love?! Is there only one kind of love? When we truly love, can we be so desperate as to reach for the finality, for death itself?" He asked, stretching his hand out in front of him, sweeping it in a semi-circle as if he was showing something, a few people couldn't stand it and laughed under their breath, Howard turned to him over her shoulder, looking at him with big eyes in disbelief, and he looked at her feeling that he looked exactly like her.

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He bullshitted his way through the next five minutes until their professor decided he'd had enough.

However, what horrified him the most was the results of his first exam, which he saw on a list posted for all students outside the room.

100/100 points Mr Collins 94/100 points Mr Targaryen 94/100 points Miss Howard

What?

"What?!" He heard a familiar voice beside him, Howard stepped closer to the glass as if she couldn't believe her eyes.

She threw him a quick, helpless look as if she wanted him to tell her what had just happened here, but he himself had no idea how that was possible.

How could this fucking moron get such a good score?

"Ah, my sweet rivals!" They heard a voice behind them and turned around, Collins was looking contentedly at his score from over their shoulders, blushing, smiling and dreamy as usual, he could see from so close up that despite his young age he was slowly starting to go bald.

"Miss Howard and Mr Targaryen, the age-old battle between the aristocracy and the working class. So dramatic, solemn, full of contradictions. Love - hate - or perhaps cold calculation? Like Athena and Arachne, like Aphrodite and Persephone, like Achilles and Hector!" He said grabbing Howard's arm and she shook her head, completely surprised, not believing that he dared to say such things out loud.

"− Achilles and Hector didn't −" She began, but he interrupted her, looking up, as if suddenly dazzled.

"− no − Romeo and Juliet − separated lovers − they don't even know yet that tragedy awaits them, that they will not be given the chance to be reunited − but nevertheless this feeling, this will to fight will always prevail." He said worriedly and shook her, as if he wanted to make her realise how serious his prophetic words were, and then he left, wishing them a good day.

They stood horrified, he saw her look at her arms, as if she might have been contaminated by him just a moment ago.

"− oh God −" She muttered, lowering her hands without strength. "− he's an idiot −"

Their war was put on hold as they were forced to turn their gazes to a new enemy, more dangerous and more unpredictable, turning their joint lectures into a nightmare, for some reason having perfect scores on all their exams.

How was it possible that he was always a few points short and he passed everything with the highest score?

He decided to hide in the library as usual, tired and frustrated, and clenched his eyes when he saw that in his armchair, hidden between a few bookcases so that he couldn't be seen from a distance, sat Howard, reading a book even though it was his favourite place and she knew it perfectly well.

"Get the fuck out." He said to her straight out, towering over her with an angry look. She furrowed her brow and pressed her lips together.

"No. That moron is still after me, and he won't find me here. I was here first." She said angrily and turned the page with a quick, theatrical gesture.

He leaned over her resting his hands on either side of her body on the armrests of her armchair, looking at her face from so close that the tips of their noses were almost touching.

"Get. The fuck. Out." He hissed low.

"Fuck. No." She hissed parroting his tone, he grabbed her hard by her arm, trying to pull her out of there, but she immediately lifted her leg and kicked him in the stomach.

He bent down and growled, grabbing her ankle.

"You little spoiled bitch." He snorted, pulling her so that she just fell off the armchair, ignoring the fact that it made her skirt roll up and he could almost see her panties. "You think if your daddy pays for your studies, you're allowed everything?"

In response, he was hit on the head with the book she had just been reading, grabbed his forehead and shouted in pain, closing his eyes.

"Fuck off! I'm studying here as hard as you are!" She snarled furiously, wanting to throw the other book at him, but he grabbed her arms and blocked her movements. They were both panting loudly fighting each other, she tried to hit him with her knee, but he pinned her down with his body.

"Yeah? Oh what a poor girl. She studies as hard as I do. She never had to earn anything, she didn't have to work for long fucking hours after school, studying late to earn a living here, she didn't have to write a 100-page essay to get here, beg the university authorities to give her a scholarship." He hissed out looking at her with hatred, not letting her get away, feeling that he was just pouring out everything he had felt over the years, all the loathing he had for her and people like her.

She stopped fighting him and pressed her lips together, her eyebrows at the same time furrowed in a grimace of pain and sadness, her lower lip began to tremble at his words, her eyes turned red and glazed over from tears.

"Oh, are you going to cry? Are you going to fucking cry now? The poor rich little girl is going to cry because she heard a few words of truth?" He asked in a mocking, sweet voice as if he was speaking to a small child who still doesn't understand much and needs to be explained slowly.

"Fuck off." She exhaled with difficulty, already with less certainty, trying to push him away but to no avail, his hands clenched tighter on her shoulders, her body pressed against the armchair so that she was unable to make any movement, her cheeks red with exertion.

"You're not so snarky anymore? Well, please tell me, how did you earn your place here? Let me guess, you told your daddy - daddy, I would like to study here - will you pay my tuition fees? Hm? Is that how it was? I know, you worked so terribly hard for it." He sneered, arching his eyebrows in a gesture as if he really felt sorry for her, and she burst out crying, looking up at him from below, breathing hard.

"− I wanted to study here because I'm interested in literature, and my dad helped me − what the fuck is your problem? −" She mumbled out almost choking, and he clenched his jaw, his nostrils moving restlessly in rage.

"− my problem is that you've taken the place of someone who's worked all their life for it − some poor boy or girl who didn't have your father's money − the university authorities prefer your money to their knowledge −"

"− then why don't you go and yell at the rector for it? − won't you go to the dean and name some person to take my place, tell them that they are only after my money? − I'll tell you why − thanks to my father's money you can be here for free − thanks to my father's money you'll be able to do your PhD and do your research −" She laughed desperately through her tears, looking at him in disbelief, seeing him turn pale, his lower lip trembling in rage.

"− you didn't know? − you thought our country was paying for your place here, your uniform, your room? − no − but you're right about one thing − you've earned this place harder than I have −" She said emotionlessly, looking at him with a blank stare, and he felt unable to get a word out, his throat tightened, he felt like he was about to vomit, humiliation and rage spreading through his body.

"− you don't know anything about me − you've been insulting me ever since you got here, even though I'm the one you feel sorry for, you're the one carrying yourself like a king, looking down on everyone − and I thought that maybe things would get better, that maybe we'd even become friends − you're a mere brutal boor who thinks he can take it out on whoever he wants −" She hissed, pushing him away from her, he stepped back, turning his head away, not looking at her as she picked up her book from the floor and moved ahead, disappearing around the corner.

He slid his back down the bookcase and sat on the floor, burying his face in his hands, feeling that he was trembling all over.

You're a mere brutal boor who thinks he can take it out on whoever he wants.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[quigzahhutt]

26 and sargebon for the kiss writing prompt pls pls pls

after everything that's happened I just want these boys to kiss

for the kiss prompt ask game

26. "as an apology"

Logan was sitting alone on a row of plastic lawn chairs outside of the medical center, and Alex has never desired proximity so much before.

He wasn't a touchy person– neither of them are, really, but Logan seems to cherish it more than Alex does. It's an inexplicable feeling, wanting to be close to him, to be able to see the sunburn on the bridge of his nose and count his teeth individually.

The crash was bad. It's always hard watching crashes back, obviously, especially if its of your teammate; but for some reason, some fucking reason, Logan always serves to make Alex's heart bunch up in his throat, flutter against his ribs in a way that makes him nauseous unlike any teammate he's had before.

He had heard the murmurs in the garage, the muffled 'fucks sakes' from the engineers, and it made him furious– that's how he ended up here, because he had stormed off, sick of the whispers that felt like they echoed around the cold walls of the garage.

And it's worse, because he gets why they're frustrated; he understands that car repairs are not easy, especially just before quali when the foreboding and impossible task is tossed into your lap, expecting to be finished in time. He knows he's being immature.

Logan avoids looking at Alex as he walks over, even though he knows Logan spots him, based on the way his eyes flick up and down before focusing back on his lap. His leg is bobbing up and down rapidly, and his hand keeps moving up to tug his hair out of the way.

Logan still won't look at him when he slips into the flimsy lawn chair on his left.

Neither of them say anything at first; Alex almost gets up and leaves until he remembers why he's here, that this might be his last opportunity.

"I was scared for you," Alex says, hushed in worry that there might be people around them, listening in trying to find something to write an unnecessary article about.

"Sure, everyone was," Logan responds coldly, and something dangerous zips up Alex's spine up to his temples.

"No- I'm sick of you acting like this! I was worried, my stomach was in knots when you weren't jumping out, Logan, fuck sakes," He tries not to raise his voice, he tries, but Logan has been brushing him off at every confrontation, and Alex is sick of it.

They fall into silence for a bit, and Alex can see Logan's hands toying with each other in his lap, rubbing soothingly at the thumb on his left hand. Guilt begins creeping into his cheeks, and Alex is almost apologizing until Logan starts speaking.

"I wasn't hurt too bad, my thumb is a bit sore but it's nothing concerning. I'm sorry." It's so quiet that he almost doesn't catch it.

Alex doesn't know what he's apologizing for, either, or why it seems like Logan means something else by it. Before he can stop himself, he reaches over and takes Logan's hand in his own, brushing his thumb over the pink knuckles on his left hand.

"I'm glad you're okay," Alex breathes, "the fire was really scary," it feels like a confession.

Logan shifts next to him, wiggles around so he can face Alex better. He moves his arm too, leans it against the plastic arm rests, gives him more access to his wrist for some unknown reason.

Alex indulges, wraps his hand around Logan's, finagles their fingers so he can lock them together. It's entirely too intimate, and he can see Logan looking at him, giving him a quizzical look in his peripheral, but it's good, it's all he's ever wanted.

"You shouldn't be apologizing," Alex practically whispers, seemingly more to himself than anyone, his eyes pointed toward the ground.

"Neither of us are talking about the crash anymore, I don't think," Logan states, and Alex sighs in reply, looking over at Logan for what feels like the first time since this morning.

He looks absolutely exhausted, his eyes vaguely bruised, sunken in like they always get after a crash. He's so different from the kid that joined the team just a year ago, the kid that Alex has been mourning since February.

He's bigger now, scruffier around the chin and hardened in a way that could only happen after a year like this; mentally draining, completely damaging to your psyche.

His unoccupied hand is on Logan's jaw before he can stop himself, and their lips are against each other in no time.

Logan's beard feels weird against his own, clean-shaven skin, and the arm rests dig into his elbows almost painfully as he drapes himself over the space between them.

He definitely caught Logan off guard, because he's already pulling away, breathing heavily like he was just under water. The realization of what he just did thunks heavily in his stomach, and Alex is about to lean away, until a hand is on the back of his neck, pulling him back into the kiss.

Alex practically falls into it this time, caught by surprise the same way Logan probably was before. The hard plastic of the chairs digs into the soft meat of his waist, and the hand on his neck is a solid weight that grounds him to the present, holds him in the moment like the seatbelts in his car.

He unclasps his hand from Logan's and moves it to the side of his face, cradling his jaw with both hands now. He pours every feeling, every emotion from the last 5 months into it, licks against Logan's lips in an apology he can't articulate.

Months of avoiding confrontation, of ignoring the growing tension between them now unfurling between their mouths. Alex tongues his way into Logan's lips, his mouth falling open obediently, and it gives him the opportunity to make up lost time. He should have done this forever ago.

Not the kiss, necessarily, but the apology– the kiss is a bonus, though.

His guilt leaks into the motion of his tongue, too. As the older driver, he should have been the one to keep the peace, to ensure his teammate was comfortable, that he felt okay enough to ask for help.

But he didn't. And now it's too late.

Im grieving their relationship already

[ewanmitchellconnoisseur]

Mɪᴛᴄʜᴇʟʟ Esᴛᴀᴛᴇs (Chapter 1) "Mᴏᴠɪɴɢ Iɴ"

EwanMitchell Verse x F!Reader

A/N: Hello! This is the first chapter of my Mitchell Estates Series! This chapter is for introduction so not much going on! //Dividers by@firefly-graphics

Summary: You finally arrive at what will be your new home. You hope this fresh start will be able to bring you some peace and less drama in your life.

Tw: Nothing!

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist • Next Chapter → (WIP)

The road feels never-ending. Everything moving outside of the car feels like a blur and you feel as if you're driving in a fishbowl.

Your eyelids feel like they're being weighed down. You've gotten to the point where you've imagined taping them open. Constantly feeling the need to shake your head as you try to stay awake.

You've spent the entire day packing, and loading all your belongings to your new apartment all on 2 hours of sleep. The cost of movers was not an expense you were willing to pay, the truck itself was already putting a dent in your wallet.

"Your destination is on the right."

You turn on your signals and carefully pull into the small building complex.

It wasn't an easy find. A friend of yours luckily knew the person who had just moved out and managed to get in contact with the landlord before they could give the space to anyone else.

It was an old Motel that had been renovated into apartments, though, it still looked like it was a motel.

You pull into a random parking spot near a smaller building that looks to be the office. It feels good to finally put the car in park and unbuckle.

"Fucking finally" You lean your head back on the headrest and close your eyes just for a second. You listen to the sounds of the cars passing by and the music coming from your radio on low. You had work until 2 in the morning, a rare occurrence, they needed help and you needed the money. And it was only natural that when you finally got home at 3 your neighbours were having sex loudly followed by someone being a dick revving their engine outside the building. You ended up falling asleep at 5 but had to be up by 7 to start packing.

As you relax in your car someone comes and knocks on the window. You look out it to see a man standing there with a clipboard. Annoyed, you hold the button to roll down the window.

"Yes?" He eyes you for a moment not saying anything simply looking between his clipboard and you. You notice his eyes go to your chest then your lips.

Fucking creep.

"You're late." He stares at you and then looks down at his watch. "You were supposed to be here 5 minutes ago." He sighs angrily and starts flipping through pages on his clipboard.

"Sorry, there was traffic." You apologize to which he just rolls his eyes.

What the fuck is up his ass?

Technically you were 3 minutes late since you spent 2 minutes taking a breather. Either way, 5 minutes is not that big of a deal.

"Are you going to get out of the car or am I supposed to give you the tour from here?" He chews his gum like one of the cocky guys that come up to you in bars who act as if they're walking around with the biggest dicks on the planet. You sigh and glare at him as you press the button to slowly roll up the window while staring into his soul.

Once it's up you take the keys out of the ignition, grab your bag and step out of your car. It belonged to your dad, it had been all banged up so you had to get it repaired but it was worth it. It was probably the most expensive thing you owned.

You look around now that you're out and fully take in the building. They did a pretty good job at not making it look like a motel the vibrant blue and orange colours of the doors paired with the black finishings as well as the white walls just made it all pop. You could tell the trees were just recently planted and the gardens were actually tended to.

For a moment you had been worried the place your friend found would be a dump considering the side of town it was on and the price of the rent. You were in too much of a desperate situation to come to look at the apartment itself so you had no other choice but

"Any day now..." You look over at the man who is glaring daggers at you. You take in his appearance now that you can see him better. He's wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a red sweater. You notice that just above the neckline you can catch a glimpse of a tattoo on the side of his neck. He's cute you'd give him that, but the cutest thing about him has to be that nose. Your thoughts grew a little lewd as you thought about riding his face. His nose perfectly nuzzling against your clit.

Why are the hot ones always so fucking rude?

You close your door, locking the car a couple times before following him.

"You're in B3. Thats the second floor, unit 3." He walks over to that office-like building you noticed earlier and leads you inside, holding the door open.

At least he has some fucking manners.

You take a seat across from the desk as he walks around and sits down in front of you while going through the desk drawers. "No loud noises past 11pm, no pets if it's not on your lease, no in-unit laundry machines, no renovations without clearance."

He finally finds what he's looking for. He pulls out a lanyard, attached to it are 2 sets of keys, a laminated pass and a plastic card. The lanyard itself is decorated with the building's name Mitchell Estates and two phone numbers.

"You only get two keys. If you lose them you owe me 30$ for a new one. The pass gets hung up in your car. If I see no pass and no paid ticket I tow the car. The plastic card is your laundry card. The lanyard has my phone number, don't call me, I promise whatever it is I don't care enough to answer. There is also the maintenance number, call him." He speaks with a dead look on his face and no emotion.

He stands up and walks over to the door and holds it open waiting for you to get up and follow him out. You grab your bag stand up and follow him out of the building. He begins leading you over to the actual apartment.

"The spot you're parked in now is empty so you can have it. Over there is the laundry rooms." He points to the left side of the building, you see a boy and a child walk out dragging baskets behind them. "There are garbage shutes on every floor. Recycling is at the back of the buildings. Those vending machines work." You look over to the vending machines and see some guy leaning against it while smoking. He gives you a grin before stomping out his cigarette and walking into his unit. You try to keep up with the Landlord but frankly, he's walking so fast like he's trying to get rid of you.

You follow him upstairs below you see someone walk into the complex and look toward you. He's wearing glasses and a burgundy cardigan paired with cargo pants. He notices you but quickly looks away.

"Over here is yours." He walks you over to a unit. As you get to the door he searches for the keys, a man comes up the stairs and goes into the unit next to you. You notice the cases of beer he's carrying and a tattoo of a horse on his bicep.

He finally finds the right key and unlocks the door. "Over there on the counter is a copy of the rental agreement. Sign it and drop it off by tomorrow. Rent is due on the first of every month. I don't make exceptions and I don't care for sob stories. If you can't pay I call the police. I trust we will have no issues?" He eyes you up and down again.

Isn't he just a ray of sunshine ladies and gentlemen?

"No need to worry. I don't plan on causing any problems." He nods his head and turns to leave. "Wait," you call after him and he turns back around with an annoyed look. You put out your hand and introduce yourself. "Your name is?"

He looks down at your hand and then back up at you.

"Ettore." With that, he's out your door slamming it behind him.

An hour later the moving truck arrived. Your friends hopped out and began helping you unload your stuff. Since you couldn't afford it on your own and they needed a truck too, you split the cost.

One of your friends stops to look around quickly before walking back over to the truck.

"Wow. It's actually nice." Boyse blocks the sun from her eyes as she looks up at the building. "And that man up there is hot."

You look to see who she's looking at. You see the man before who lives next to you leaning on the railing while drinking a beer. He takes another sip before turning around and going back into his apartment.

"How...kind...and I wouldn't call it nice. It's...an improvement." Boyse rolled her eyes at Farleigh's statement. "I guess considering how it looked before...I can see the appeal." He lowered and handed down a box from inside the truck.

"For $900 a month. Im just fine with how it looks." When Farleigh told you the price even you were shocked in this day and age you were looking at about $2k for more apartments. "Now come on and help me get these boxes upstairs. Im not paying a late fee for this truck." You grabbed a box.

The three of you spent the next 2 hours unloading the truck and then unpacking your stuff. You didn't have much since you were only renting a bedroom before but luckily you had good friends who would be bringing by furniture to help fill in your new space.

"Fuck that was rough." Farleigh leaned against the wall and fanned himself with his hand.

"You didn't even do anything." Boyse rolled her eyes as she took a swig from her water before putting back on the cap and sitting on the counter. "You spent the entire time talking about fucking Felix and his new boy toy."

"I'm 100% sure that fucker framed me." Farleigh had been boring you and Boyse about his family drama for the whole day. He only came back to see his mother for a day and tell her what happened. "Which reminds me we have to leave if im going to make my flight. I have a party to crash."

He blew a kiss in the air which you pretended to dodge earning you a dramatic heart clutch from him. Boyse laughed and walked over and hugged you.

"At least you're a bit closer to me now." You followed her over to the door. The next-door neighbour walked by Boyse and watched him walk away before turning to you and winking and running off when Farleigh honked the truck. "Bye, babe! Have fun."

You turn around locking the door before eyeing your plain and empty apartment.

"This is going to take some work..."

A/N: This was SUPER short but it was just meant to introduce the story and set the scene. Hopefully, you guys can figure out who some characters are just by my vague descriptions but if not do not fear! We will meet them all in due time! (Also it is not easy to describe them when they all look alike 🤣) The next chapter will be longer and better and we will also get to meet Will!

General Taglist: @thought--bubble, @valeskafics Series Taglist: @slytherincursebreaker, @watercolorskyy, @dixie-elocin, @venmondiese, @briefcollectivepersona

[seat-safety-switch]

"Oh bother," said Winnie the Pooh, who was at this exact moment in time very much outside of copyright and placed well into the public domain, "my car won't start." Indeed, Pooh Bear had quite the predicament on his hands. His 1966 Charger's numbers-unmatching 318-cubic-inch polysphere V8 had been equipped, largely inexplicably, with a four-barrel Rochester Quadrajet® carburetor. A previous owner's work, no doubt.

Eventually, his little friend Piglet came tootling down the lane. Piglet had been out earlier that day, in his twin-supercharged Nash Metropolitan, and he remembered that when he left, Pooh Bear had been under the hood of the Dodge, swearing loudly. And now: he still was. A repair that took longer to complete than it did for Piglet's relatively easy-going highway cruising speed to traverse the length of the Hundred Acre Woods? That did seem like a Very Large Problem.

Eeyore was already there, in Pooh's carport, telling the bear exactly what was wrong. "Torn carb gasket," the donkey sighed. "I'm sure of it." Pooh, being a bear of very little brain, did not listen to his friend's measured suggestion, and looked straight past the glob of RTV that clung, half boiled, to the top of his intake manifold.

That's when Tigger showed up, bouncing on a Vespa travelling at a significant portion of c. The exposed connectors of the pouch-style vape batteries powering the Vespa's eight-kilowatt e-bike motor threw a shower of sparks onto the road with every jounce and pounce.

"Hoo hoo hoo!" shouted Tigger. "Can't stop now, my throttle cable just caught fire!"

[fuwaprince]

To the welcoming, the caring, the accepting,

To familiar friends,

To anybody willing to listen,

It's 12 in the afternoon and I'm writing to you from a new low in life. I'm sorry for being absent. Please listen.

I've been homeless and hurting for a while again- still trying to do things on my own. Hopping from place to place all over the state while carrying a heavy shield. My belongings are only getting more scattered/lost over the weeks. It's hot in the back of this car (not mine) that I've been sleeping in. I'm sad and sincerely sorry if this sounds like a lot of complaining... Solutions keep falling through. I'm strong but admit that I'm gross because finding a reliable place to shower is practically impossible... I lost weight from not being able to feed myself properly... A LOT went wrong and I'm having a very difficult time regaining any sort of footing. I keep falling flat on my face, keep landing in risky situations around people who abuse me then crying alone. Things are all wrong.

The mental battle is another difficult one but most days I come up on top. Being grateful for what's left and looking forward to any good that may come are the only things I'm holding onto. I don't want to survive off of the kindness and generosity of strangers or even friends forever. This isn't anybody else's burden to shoulder but mine... But I figured there's no harm in asking for a bit of help to survive momentarily? Please don't abandon me. I want to call my desperate yearning for support a need, but won't dare because my self worth is so low. There were times I would beg saying I needed SOMEBODY'S support and good people misperceived that I didn't. Once because I was smiling in spite of it all. In the middle of crying hysterically while explaining the horrific details of my life on the streets to someone who didn't care much... They said it was justification for why I'm actually fine and not in need- that I could still manage to smile. I've been coldly told to run to Jesus and told ONLY I can be the one to get myself out of this. Compassionate company is hard to come by. It's easy enough to shrug someone else's pain off..

I've dealt with so much assault these past two weeks that I have yet to even address. Sexual abuse. False imprisonment. Verbal attacks on my character. Exploitations. Manipulation. Guilt trips and weaponized shame. I'm exhausted. Reaching out to resources and working with a recruiter is hopefully going to help/pay off soon. I'm hoping it'll repair my self worth.

This post had lots of feelings and hardly any explanation, so I'm sorry context is limited. I'm struggling. I could really use some support from anyone willing to call themselves a friend, or any kind strangers who may or may not happen to read this. I've been battling demons and dragons the size of mountains on my own. This can't be my final destination so I have no choice but to carry on. I'm traveling this path to independence no matter what. I hope someone out there is nice... I hope miracles happen. I'm crying and feeling so lost. I have no place to be!

[glossysoap]

⛓️📝: ooo another angsty rtc hc while you wait for chapter 7:

warnings/notes: reveal of readers trigger words, moreeee of reader not remembering the boys, and reader has a russian accent now lol picture yelena belova’s accent if ur more fem or bucky’s accent when he speaks russian if ur more masc!

the picture perfect soldier.

ready to take orders, eliminate targets at any moment. ears listening for those ten phrases that trigger your bloodthirsty instincts. those instincts always remain, even without the phrases.

longing. rusted. furnace. daybreak. seventeen. benign. nine. homecoming. one. freight car.

you’re always, always listening for those words. in everyday conversations that don’t even involve you. in conversations that you overhear on the street. a random person talking about their rusted engine. a random person mentioning how they need their home furnace repaired before winter rolled around. a random parent talking over the phone, making arrangements for their daughters seventeenth birthday.

in those situations, you have to force yourself to shut down at any mention of those phrases. you tune out the noise and steel yourself.

at the strange base you’ve been contained in, it’s no different. you steel yourself and ignore any hushed conversations or barked orders that don’t pertain to you.

your face bears no emotion. brows never furrowed, eyes never crinkled, mouth never quirked up.

your teeth are always bared and your jaw is always set, keeping your mouth almost wired shut in order to remain quiet and obedient.

eyes are always blank and focused straight ahead, never making eye contact with anyone. even when addressed or ordered by the unfamiliar soldiers, you never make eye contact.

especially not with the tall man in the skull mask or the loud man with a weird hair cut who act like they know you. you can’t shake the feeling that it’s another manipulation tactic.

maybe hydra had started recruiting from the united kingdom, you thought.

you’re the exact same when you are brought into 141’s custody for the first time. where you undergo a mandatory psych evaluation.

you’re stone faced the entire time (truly from the very moment you see any of your old team), head held high, jaw set and eyes staring straight ahead. sporting a perfect posture, one that was seared into your memory no matter how many times your brain was put back in a blender.

back straight, head up. handcuffed arms resting on the table. when you eyed the metal rings locked around your wrists, you almost scoffed at the thought of that being strong enough to restrain you. even without your metal arm, you could shatter it in five seconds flat.

even as the bearded man and the blonde woman sat across from you, you sat up perfectly straight and stared straight ahead.

of course, they wanted to test your memory. they probably needed intel, probably wanted to see how easy you would be to break.

they started with asking for your name.

“do you remember your name?” the bearded man asks, voice gravelly. another brit. maybe hydra really has moved their operations.

“first name? last name? anything?” the blonde woman asked, almost pleaded. it almost sounded sincere.

you couldn’t place anything, no name or ranking. so you gave them the one ‘name’ you can ever remember being addressed by. your serial number.

“zero nine, zero one, two zero two zero.” you ground out, voice different than before you were captured.

your tongue curled as you pronounced each syllable when you spoke. your handlers and doctors had fed the russian language into your ears for months, almost two years. their voices had conditioned the accent into you, permanently changing the way your mouth moved and the cadence in which you talked.

your voice didn’t hold that warm pattern anymore or that twang from the states. it was now tainted with the same coldness and ruthlessness that you had experienced in the cold russian winter.

the bearded man’s piercing blue eyes widened a fraction when you spoke, and the blonde woman’s lips fell into a frown.

“right.” the bearded man sighed. he sounded dejected as he stood from his chair and left the room with the frowning blonde woman.

the second they left the room, they were bombarded by questions by the task force.

“how the hell did they get that arm?” gaz.

“why don’t they remember us?” soap.

“how are they? are. they. okay?” ghost.

“all they said was zero nine, zero one, two zero two zero. nothing else.” price answered, dragging a hand down his face.

“what the hell does that mean?” gaz muttered, brows crinkling.

“zero nine, zero one..” soap muttered the string of numbers under his breath, trying to figure it out. like it was a riddle.

ghosts’ eyes were shut as he leaned his head back against the wall. he was already running every possibility through his mind. was it a passcode? a serial number? a date?

his eyes snapped open. it was a date.

“zero nine, zero one, two zero two zero. it’s a date.” ghost muttered. everyone looked at him to continue.

“january ninth, twenty twenty.. the day they were captured.”

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

[partyanimal167]

My Internet Helper- Crocodile x F!Reader

Here's my submission for @fuwushiguro and @duckiez s' Cyber Sex collab. It's my first time doing a collab, but I read some from the JJK girlies, and some ideas started rolling. I hope this idea is interesting enough. Thanks for stopping by and check out the other works too~

Intro: Things started out innocently enough, and that probably should have been the first sign. Everyone knew that the internet was a place where people can find nearly anything to satisfy their desires and curiosity. You, on the other hand, weren't trying to go to those deep, dark places. You just wanted some company. And that surely came in its own way.

CW: nsfw, online sugaring, dirty talk, praise kink, black fem reader in mind

Things were simple. Easy. You told yourself that companionship came in all sorts of forms...but damn, you never imagined these kinds of benefits at all.

Streaming online was something you didn't think much about. You didn't think that you had something interesting to offer people or that any one would want to listen to you at all. However, you tried going live on a simple social site when you found yourself across the country and struggling to click with people outside of work.

You told yourself that talking to internet people was different than when you were a child. People were more open to accepting companionship from different avenues. So one time when you were eating dinner by yourself, you started the stream and stared absently waiting to see if anyone would join.

After a few minutes, a few people did and you greeted them. Some left immediately while a few started asking questions about yourself. They were basic ones: your favorite food, music you hate, if you were into celebrity gossip. You were shocked by how easy it was for you to openly chat with these strangers. When the stream ended, you found that some type of satisfaction was gained. Maybe this could be a hobby.

So you found yourself going live a few times a week. Sometimes you would be eating dinner. Other times you were just reading a book or fanfic. Or you would talk to your viewers about their latest work drama and give some comforting advice. It was starting to become a little small community of watchers and you; all together just existing in a shared space.

Every now and then, you'd get a creep or spam bot asking for inappropriate things, but that didn't bother you too much. You weren't there to show off any skin or fulfill fantasies. There wasn't anything wrong with it, but you left that type of work to those good at it. You were shy about showing yourself off.

One time, you were simply set up and reading a book. You had a cup of tea by your side with some lofi in the background. Every now and then you glanced up to see if anyone had any comments or how many people were streaming. Tonight, there weren't that many people tuned in which was fine. It had been a long day at work, so you weren't really in the mood to spill some tea with your digital peers. Your eye caught on a comment.

MrSandsandCo: That's a classic book your reading. I'm shocked that there are people who know that author.

You smiled a little to yourself after seeing that. It had been a book you read a few times that not so many people knew about. You thanked the commenter and explained that you enjoyed the plot and story development.

After that occasion, you started to notice more comments from that same user. They seemed to enjoy your lives when you did mundane things like reading, journaling, or simply listening to music. They made it a point to ask about your day and interests.

Later on, slow season approached at work, and hours were being cut. You went live while you searching for a second job--rambling about how money would probably be a bit tight with the way you just had to repair your car on top of everything else. You read job listings and shared silly work stories. Near the end of the night, you were getting ready for bed when a distinct notification rung. What the? You checked your phone.

Sir Sands has sent you cash.

You nearly choked seeing the amount. You recognized the name since it was similar to that user who frequents you. You didn't know what to say. It was late, so you decided to wait until morning to ask about it.

~~~

Self: Hi!!! Uh, I hope you're doing fine. I saw that you sent me some money last night. Thank you so much! It was really unexpected. I feel weird about taking it though...

Mr Sands is typing...

MrSandsandCo: Don't worry about it. I know you're independent, but see it as a gift. No need to fret.

You chewed the inside of your lip a little trying to think of what to say.

Self: Ah a gift...but I want to say thank you in some way. I honestly can't imagine why you'd even be so generous.

MrSandsandCo: Your presence is unique and genuine. I am not one for digital entertainment, but I enjoy what you bring.

You blushed a bit while reading.

MrSandsandCo: As for your appreciation, well...how about we just have a video chat? Just the two of us. So we can get to know each other a little more?

Hmmm....that wouldn't be too bad. It made you a little nervous thinking about talking to a stranger, but then again, that was what you did on a daily basis any way. There could be nothing wrong with that.

Self: Sure! Let's do it!

~~~

You were nervous.

After agreeing on a time and platform, you didn't think much about your meeting with that overly generous user. It was nice having internet friends, but you definitely have to remind yourself that these were people like you on the other side of the screen. They had names, fun facts, jobs, problems. Even when exchanging knowledge on the web, there was still some things unknown.

The call ringtone snapped you out of your thoughts. Okay, well let's do this. You answered the call.

"It's a pleasure to formally meet you, Miss."

It was like your soul left your body. That voice.

You were greeted by an older gentleman who looked like he was sitting a dimly-lit office. He was more well-dressed in a white dress shirt with two buttons undone and sat in a dark leather chair. His hair was mostly put together with a strand or two loose. There seemed to be smoke in the air coming from some hidden source and bright gold jewelry shimmered in the little light. His golden eyes seemed tired yet amused based on the look he gave you.

He had money. Definitely. He probably was running several businesses--possibly why he was in an office at this time of night.

"He-hello, Mr-,"

"Crocodile. No need to call me Mister or Sir for now."

You were slightly confused by what meant by that but carried on. You returned your name, and the conversation flowed naturally. He told you about a couple of his pressing responsibilities related to his line of work while you listened intrigued. You answered questions about your hobbies, your dreams, your friends and family. You returned and asked about his family--wife and kids--which he chuckled at and simply stated that he had neither.

You talked for nearly an hour before you remembered the situation that brought this all about.

"Oh what am I doing! I'm so sorry. I haven't even properly thanked you. I still can't believe you decided to...help me out." it felt weird wording it as such. You were sure you wouldn't have to worry about getting another job for awhile. It's weird just thinking about it.

The man chuckled again. "You're still concerned about that, beautiful?" your cheeks warmed up. "I'm glad to do so. A woman like you should enjoy the finer things in life."

You were curious about what he meant by that, but quickly the conversation carried on. Before long, you two ended up wrapping up for the night. Crocodile let you know that he appreciated your company and clearly expressed that he would love to speak with you again. You beamed and agreed.

After washing up and getting comfortable in bed, you were drifting to sleep when that familiar notification ring went off.

Sir Sands has sent you cash.

~~~

"Girl be fucking for real."

You chuckled awkwardly while you brought your iced coffee to your lips.

"So you telling me that this man has sent you money for just talking to him. You ain't showing him a titty or nothin'?" one of your other friends chimed in.

"Omg, no!" you gasped and scratched your cheek in embarrassment. "We just...talk." There was a collective grunt from the table.

"Babe, you need to milk that man while you can. I can't believe you got somebody sending you money...just for existing! I'm jealous."

You smiled a little while you thought about the situation. It was...a nice little set up to say the least. You didn't talk on video with Sir Crocodile a lot, but it was nice to speak to the man. He never brought up the money, but he seemed to have known it was there when you didn't bring up your financial worries in your daily lives. In fact with the less hours and generous allowance, you were able to indulge a little in your hobbies and wants. These things Crocodile would want to know about. He liked hearing that you went to brunch with your friends or bought a handmade outfit from a seller you had been following for quite awhile. In a way, they were like indirect gifts from him.

"I'm happy for you, but what if he wants a little more?"

You hummed in thought for a moment before shrugging. "I don't know. It depends I guess." your friends gasped in unison. "Don't do that. I didn't say I'm gonna go show off my whole cat to him online, jeez. Maybe I'd just...hear him out. I don't think he's like that."

"Shit girl, I'm just shocked you got yourself a sugar daddy. When will it be me?"

~~~

You laid lazily in bed eating chips and sipping on a drink absentmindedly scrolling online. You were taking an impromptu break from streaming and just wanted to be digital consumer. You were off the next day and weren't sure how to entertain yourself. None of the usuals were hitting like normal. You were close to shutting down early for the night.

(Incoming Call...)

You popped up at the familiar call sound and were shocked to see that Crocodile was calling. He always scheduled his chats ahead of time, but it wasn't like you were doing anything important any way.

"Heyo~" you greeted all cutesy and rested your head in your palm.

It seems you were blessed with the after-hours look of Crocodile: slightly disheveled hair, suit coat lost, dress shirt a little more unbuttoned, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as smoke surrounded his frame.

The man grinned at you. "Hello darling, how are you?" You started going on about your day and the few little hobbies you tried out to fill your time. You were starting to shop more too since it was time to update your closet. You went on and on about your purchases and newfound pleasures.

"I even took my friends out a few days ago. It was fun," you giggled to yourself as you remembered the conversation that was had, "but they kept calling you my sugar daddy which was embarrassing." you bit your bottom lip and looked off to the side.

There was a dark look in Crocodile's expression that you hadn't seen before. "Mmm, and what did you say to that?"

He didn't deny the claim, so you were a bit shy to keep the topic afloat. "I mean, I said no. You never ask me to show any...nudity or anything."

Crocodile found your shyness amusing though everything you said was true. He let you set your boundaries in this unique relationship, and he wasn't going to risk you disappearing. If a pretty girl liked talking to him and spending his money, then he'd indulge for sure. That didn't mean he never considered. "I haven't." he said simply.

You weren't sure what to say. It wasn't like you didn't have a little crush on the older man. How couldn't you? You got spoiled and had the freedom to go about your business without anyone blowing up your phone asking for your location and demanding things. "Well...would you want me to?" you peaked at the screen.

Crocodile's body language was cool and collected, but those golden eyes of his were telling a story. "I want whatever you'd give me." he replied. "I can admit that I've thought about seeing that beautiful body of yours in a different light." you felt your body heat up and fidgeted slightly in your seat. "My precious darling, is something wrong?" you shook your head. "Look at me."

Those eyes looked hungry. You didn't know you could have such an intense effect on another person, but it gave you a little more courage. The man went on. "Send me your wish list. How about we play dress up?"

...

You scheduled your private fashion show for your next weekend. Throughout the week, packages and packages arrived with outfits you picked out--most of which you thought you'd only imagine wearing. Every night, you took them out, washed and ironed, redid the order in which you'd show them off to Crocodile.

It was finally the big day. You ate a good lunch and decided to put on a light beat face to change things up.

Right on time, that telling ringtone rung from your desk. You had soft lights in your bedroom which framed you as you answered with a sweet smile. You wore a robe to cover what was underneath. "Hi Crocodile,"

The man looked quite put together and the background seemed to be his personal home office. He grinned and leaned forward a bit. "Ah ah princess, you gotta call me Sir today. After all, you're showing off what I bought you."

You immediately felt your face warm at the rule. It was probably the first time Crocodile told you what to do and brought up who was funding your fun. "Yes Sir."

"Good girl." He rested his head on his hook. "Now let's start the show."

You had all his attention as you.took off your soft robe and showed off a cute summer fit of a crop tee and some low-rise capris. You twirled and pointed out your favorite details and how it hugged your body. The next hour was spent changing into different outfits and accessories that ranged from casual to formal and increased in appeal. It was time for your big reveal, and you fidgeted after putting on the lingerie.

Crocodile could sense your hesitation though you were out of the frame. He was painfully hard under his desk. You looked great in every outfit you picked, and he wished he was there to tear off those clothes. This was both entertainmentandtortureforhim. "What's wrong pretty? You said you had one last surprise."

You shifted on your legs. "I, I'm not sure-"

"Oh don't do that now. I must see what is if you're so flustered wearing it." Crocodile chuckled. You took a deep breath before stepping in front of the camera.

You had on a sheer body suit in your favorite color that had a lacy bust and straps that resembled a harness. Your nipples were obviously hard and your pussy was barely contained in the fabric. You couldn't look at the screen, but you swore you felt how Crocodile stared at you. You couldn't help but rub your thighs together.

The man groaned loudly. Your eyes flicked up to the screen. "Oh princess," you nearly moaned just hearing his voice "what a good choice." He praised. "Are you happy you me proud? Hmm, you look so delicious. What do you say?"

You played with your hands nervously. "Tha-"

"Look at me."

You obeyed. "Thank you, Sir."

"Mmm well since you like showing off so much, get on the bed and spread those legs. I want to see how wet my pussy is."

You couldn't help but moan. You quickly repositioned your laptop and laid on your back. Spreading your legs, your lower lips slipped into view. You moved the cloth to the side and spread yourself. You were aroused and embarrassed, but you liked it all the same. You could barely keep your eyes open, but you definitely heard and followed all the praise and instructions Crocodile told you.

You played with yourself, wetted your fingers, fucked your clit soft then hard and stop your orgasms when he told you to. You kept going when you needed a break just to hear "what a good girl" or "I'm gonna reward you so well." It made no sense how someone could have such an effect on you and not be right with you. You didn't think about it though. Crocodiles talked you through it several times, and by the end, you knew you needed to change your sheets and maybe a warm bath.

You blushed while you sat wrapped in your fluffy robe again.

"That was beautiful, princess. " All the same, Crocodile looked just perfect and unaffected. You couldn't see how his pants wrinkled and the loads and loads of cum he pumped on the floor by his feet while watching you. He was going to have fun shying from his housekeeper with that one. "Take the week off." Another demand.

You turned your head a little confused. "Huh? Why?" You were still a little dazed from your previous activities.

The man chuckled and grin shined brightly. "Well I'm going to fly you out of course."

~~~~

Aaaah, I can't believe I got this done! I've been wanting to write spicy Crocodile fic, and this event gave me a chance to get the ideas together. I hope you all liked it. The idea of just spending this man's money how ever I want is so hot.

Here's the masterlist for the event. Please check out the other writers works! Thanks for reading~

[sardonic-the-writer]

Nacho X reader. Please

Nacho flirting with a customer at his father's shop. Him leaning over the counter to get close.

aAAArgHHHouhhh going insane over this

Dropplets of sweat were dripping down the tip of his nose.

The beams of hot New Mexico sun spared no expenses today, even indoors where walls of brick and plaster would normally provide some sort of shelter. And it was only growing hotter from what Nacho could tell.

Many of the employees both inside and outside had unbuttoned the first couple levels of their work uniform down to expose their chest to the rare breeze that would bless them. That wasn't limited to Nacho Varga, the lone man currently occupying a wooden front desk, whose golden chain bounced against his chest if he sat down too quick.

A slow trickle of perspiration on his skin made Nacho itch to rub it off. But be sighed softly, continuing to thumb through a stack of twenties in his hand.

"Here you go, sir." The sound of a register opening and change clanking ripped through the not so silent shop as he took out a few ones in exchange for placing the twenties in the box. "Have a nice day." He offered a faint smile while holding out the extra money, palms turned up toward the sky.

The man who has been standing opposite of him across the counter for the past couple minutes offered a grunt and nod of his head, turning to walk out the glass double doors behind him. Probably to his newly repaired car; curtosy of Nacho's Papa.

Nacho sighed, finally taking a moment to wipe the back of his hand over his face, only to bring it back coated in a shean of sweat. He frowned. He had been meaning to get around to looking at the lobbys air conditioning, but simply hadn't found the time. Balancing two different jobs wasn't always easy and for more reasons than one. He tried not to think about that too much when he was at his Papa's shop. Still. That didn't change the fact that this place would start feeling more and more like an oven if he didn't take a look at the metal box sometime soon.

Eventually Nacho caved. He wasn't one to put things off a lot. And it didn't seem like any customers would be stopping by for a moment.

The quiet man disappeared to the back for a quick bout of silence only to emerge seconds later lugging a six foot ladder behind him like it was nothing. He was careful to keep it a ways of the ground before setting it down with a clank, keeping in mind the freshly waxed floor that his father had stayed out late doing last month.

Quick work was made of the activity. Just a few twists of a screwdriver, poking his head around to try and see what was going on, and reassuring his dad at one point that he would be okay standing on a ladder without anyone to hold it for him.

He was hoping that he could go the evening without anyone walking in, maybe moving on from the air conditioner (which had thankfully started working again after a couple hits to the side) to fixing a few other things around the place. Something that he knew his dad would appreciate.

Clearly that wasn't going to happen though. At least not in that moment.

Cool gusts of wind blew across Nacho's back, accompanying the ones in his face from the air conditioner as he screwed the top of it back in place. Shuffling behind him and the jingling of car keys told him that someone had entered—most likely to pay for a part they needed or some repairs.

"I'll be with you in a moment." He called out over his shoulder, voice as soft as always. No one answered him back—not that he expected them to. People tended to mind their own business around here.

Still. Nacho hurried to get back behind the counter.

You really wished you had listened to your last mechanic about buying a new car.

According to the stout man that had been assigned to fix up your rust bucket, you were just better off hurting an entirely new car at this point.

"I don't know if I could even do anything more but waste your time." The gruff man had said through a bushy mustache. "I can give you the address to another shop just across town that could handle this make and model better, but really, you're just better selling it for parts."

You'd taken the small card with the adress on it anyway, thanking him with a sigh before paying for the little bit they had been able to do.

He wasn't entirely wrong by saying those things to be fair. Unable to buy even the smallest of things beyond groceries in your fruitless quest for a decent paying job, you had been stuck driving the same blue colored tin can everywhere ever since you were sixteen. Not that you really minded. The only time it gave you trouble was when a road had one too many potholes. Most of the time people would come up with excuses to have ride in their own car anyways, not particularly enthusiastic to strap themselves down into the confines of your vehicle.

At least it smelled nice and was clean enough. You hoped that the people at this other dealership would give you some brownie points for that.

The employees had been nice enough upon you pulling in, if looking a little bored. And sweaty. Not that you could blame them—you had felt the blast of heat in stepping out of your car.

One had met you, shaking your hand firmly as you explained why you were there. From the way he ordered the people around your car to pull it around the back, you could only assume he was the owner. Or at least a manager. Nonetheless, he seemed nice enough.

"Ah Emelio needs to stop sending people here." The scruffy man had barked out a laugh as he released his grip on your hand. "He's going to start running out of clients! More for me and my mijo, I suppose."

You had politely smiled your way through a few more minutes of conversation until he gave you the instructions to the cash register, along with what you might have to pay for. (According to him, you were lucky that he even had enough parts laying around to upgrade your car, much less fix it.)

So you had walked into the small looking building sat smack dab on the drab premises. It wasn't much, but it was good enough considering you were someone who had been driving a car around looking like it had been tossed off Mount Everest

It was cool inside—much to your relief. Looked cozy as well. Had a few worn chairs and a funny color scheme, but you liked it. Seemed more genuine than the stuffy car dealerships sprinkled all around the upper side of town. Where the air felt like you were inhaling febreez stright from the can and the costumer service smiles looked way too fake.

There was a man too. Your neck tilted a little to get a better look, but from his position on a rusty ladder, you weren't able to see much than the back of his uniform.

"I'll be with you in a moment."

His voice was soft, which was a suprise. With broad shoulders like that and—again, from the little they could see—strong arms, he looked like he would have a rough edge to him.

"What can I help you with today?"

You took a second to sweep your eyes across his face, observing the way his jaw clenched when you did so, quickly snapping your eyes away when you noticed. The last thing you needed to do was make someone feel uncomfortable by staring at them. Even if he did have attractive features.

"I was sent here to pay for a tune up, I think? I don't really know but they sent me in here to talk to you."

He hummed, leaning into the counter with his elbows.

"Well, I can try and help you out if you want." The corner of his lips tilted up a little, a small smile blossoming on his face. "I'm Nacho."

"Like the chip?"

Nacho let out a breathy laugh almost inaudible to you, his eyes crinkling at the corners joyfully. You couldn't help but smile back yourself.

"I guess you say that."

"Last name Cheese?"

Another slight chuckle.

"Sure."

He liked the way your eyes shone at him when he leaned toward you. And you liked the way he laughed at your terrible attempts at a joke

Maybe your shitty car wasn't such a bad thing to happen to you after all.

[total-lost-boys-simp]

Water Might Be Thicker Than Blood

The Lost Boys x Fém! Reader

Chapter 1

Master list / Chapter 2

After her parents’ divorce (Y/N) had no choice but to move to Santa Carla with her mother and two brothers. While getting to know the area of her new ‘home’ (Y/N) meets a group of interesting guys that show her what it means to be outgoing and carefree again. The downfall of it all is how her family might react to her new relationships and how she might have to choose between the two. Will (Y/N) leave her new found family behind to repair her old one or will the conflict with her mom & brothers show her that maybe water is thicker than blood?

PS let me know if you want to be added to a tag list!

Oh“ ew! (Y/N) knock it off!” A blonde, small, teenager shouted from the passenger seat of a Toyota Land Cruiser. His dog barked at the commotion.

“Oh whatever Sam, stop being such a little kid,” Said a fit brunette young man in the back with (Y/N) in the seat next to him.

“I’m nooot, it’s just gross!” Sam said, looking back at his two siblings.

“C’mon, what I do isn’t nearly as bad as what Michael does!” Exclaimed (Y/N) as she points to the brunette.

“And what is it that Michael does, (Y/N)?” Asks their mother, Lucy, from the driver’s seat.

With a panicked look (Y/N) looks over at Michael who, by this point, is giving her a look that says, “If you tell mom anything I will rip you limb from limb!’’ So she doesn’t say anything at all other than a small grumbled “Nothing.” Their mom goes back to driving asking Sam to find a station to listen to as they drive along the coast.

The breeze was nice and full, nothing like the beating sun of dry Arizona weather. That was probably one of the only things (Y/N) was excited about, it wasn’t very easy to be excited about anything anymore. The nasty divorce that caused her family to move, her friends ditching her almost a week before she left, her partner saying there wasn’t a point in being together anymore. (Y/N) felt almost completely alone, she knew she wasn’t actually alone...she had her brothers and her mom but their relationships faltered a little during this big move, things just felt off now. Lost in her thoughts (Y/N) didn’t even notice the switching of the stations and the bantering until her mother said, “Hey, we’re almost there!” as she drove.

(Y/N)’s head shot up from the resting position on the back of the seat, “What really!?” she exclaimed as she stuck half her body out the window. Seeing a huge billboard for the town: SANTA CARLA it said in bright bold letters.

“Ugh, what was that smell?” Sam asked as he scrunched his nose, looking out the window.

(Y/N)’s question earned no response but Sam’s did...it’s just because he’s the youngest.

“Ah! That’s the ocean air,” Lucy exhaled as she drove further down the scenic route.

“Smells like someone died,” Sam huffed out in disgust as he looked around.

Woah… (Y/N) thought as she spotted the back of the billboard “MURDER CAPITAL OF THE WORLD”, shoving her body back into her seat, “You saw that too...right?” she asked her brother as she looked over at him on the other side of the car. “Yeah,” was all he said as their mother drove them and their little brother further. Something already felt off about this town.

As they drove around town they saw all sorts of creative areas and interesting people from ‘all walks of life’. Santa Carla already seemed like a huge melting pot. As the small family stopped for gas they had the chance to walk around a little bit and get to know the place. (Y/N) didn’t really feel the need though, even though the opportunity was given to her...she just wasn’t comfortable yet. Staying behind with her mom and Michael she asked, “So mom, how long do you think we’ll be staying with Grandpa?”

“Oh I don’t know sweetie, maybe a few months to a year...however long it takes us to get back on our feet,” Lucy said as she pulled her daughter in for a hug.

“Ya know mom, I could always help out, like get a job?”

“Oh (Y/N) first your brother and now you too! I don’t want either of you to focus on that, just focus on school!” She exclaimed as she shook her daughter by the shoulders.

“Okay okay, all I’m saying is that you shouldn’t be afraid to ask, we love you mom and we’re there for you,” (Y/N) tried to comfort her mom, giving her another hug.

“I know sweetie, thank you,” said Lucy as she gave her daughter a kiss on the head.

Soon after that Sam came running up to the gas station with his dog, Nanook. “Mom mom” he shouted, “There’s an amusement park right on the beach!” Though his excitement was pushed aside by more pressing matters. Lucy handed Sam some cash and told him, “Sam, tell those kids to get something to eat.” She pointed at two children digging around in a dumpster, one with frizzy brown hair and another in a navy blue jacket. Sam ran over to the kids all the while Michael was asking the gas station attendant if there were any available jobs to which the guy said “Nothing legal.” This made (Y/N) laugh a little given that it really says a lot about the type of area this is.

Michael started taking his red dirt bike off the bed of the uhaul trailer when (Y/N) asked, “What ya doing Mikey?” with a big smile.

“None of your business,” her annoyed brother responded.

“You suuuure?” She asked again.

“What do you want (Y/N)?” Michael asked, now very annoyed with his sister.

“I want to ride your bike because I’m tired of sitting in the back seat behind our ratty little brother,” (Y/N) said as she crossed her arms.

“Fine, get on,” Michael said as he swung his leg over and kick-started his bike.

As they all drove further from the coast the town became rural and almost unrecognizable. Possibly the craziest thing though was a large wood cabin decorated in wood carvings and totem poles. As they came to a stop everyone got off & out of their vehicles and looked around at the...unique structure. “What is this place?” Asked (Y/N) confused on why this even exists. Her brother, Michael, just nudged her as a form of telling her to shut up. It was something he did frequently. As the four of them walked up the path to the front door they noticed a man laying out on the front porch, full on laying on the ground with nothing over him. Lucy picked up pace and crouched down next to him asking, “Dad?” and again, “Dad?”

“Looks like he’s dead” Said Michael trying to get a better look at the body.

“”No, he’s just a deep sleeper,” Said the three’s mother.

“If he’s dead, can we go back to Phoenix?” Asked Sam to which his mother looked up at him with a disappointed stare.

“Sam, dude, so not the time,” (Y/N) nudged his shoulder.

Suddenly the old man on the ground jumped his head up and shouted, “Playing dead! ...And from what I heard, doing a damn good job of it too!”

“Daaad!” Lucy dragged out in relief as she hugged her father on the floor, “Oh dad,” she continued.

With that little kerfuffle out of the way the kids walked back to the car grabbing their belongings they brought with them from Arizona. (Y/N) just thought about how their mom took everything but the kitchen sink from their home back in Phoenix. She had all these things from the old house, most likely nowhere to really put it and yet Lucy won’t let her kids help out. And she has the audacity to give away their money to people nearby like they don’t need it themselves! Not that it doesn’t show care and compassion, it’s just that… (Y/N) understands that her mother wants to feel independent and collected just so her kids don’t worry but it’s plain as day she’s panicked and struggling… the only one who doesn’t see it is Sam.

Lucy isn’t the only one stressing; (Y/N), Michael, and even Sam- in his own way are having difficulties coping with the divorce. Michael started to isolate himself even more from his siblings and mom. Sam acts normal but the look on his face as he walked out that door and their father didn’t even spare him a glance...it said a lot. (Y/N) would argue with Lucy. Not because she thought she was a bad mother but because (Y/N) didn’t fully understand why she couldn’t stay with their dad. It wasn’t a good time for anyone right now but Lucy hoped that by moving to Santa Carla the kids could find new friends and new lives better than their old ones.

The kids walked inside, the boys in front with (Y/N) following suit. Looking around, everything was weirder inside than it was on the outside. Mounted fish, deer, lions, even animal hyde lamps. The cabin seemed bigger on the inside with its wide open family room and large walkway to the kitchen.

“This is a pretty cool place,” Michael said as he looked around carrying his weights and some clothes.

Sam, who was holding a folded stack of dish towels and a pot on his head- for whatever reason, said, “Yeah for the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

“C’mon Sam, give mom a break,” Michael replied as he walked through the kitchen and into the sun room.

“Yeah, it’s not like we had a lot of options…” (Y/N) said as she avoided the kitchen clothes line of socks and sat some boxes behind the kitchen island.

“What’s wrong with this picture?” Sam didn’t even wait for an answer, “Have you guys seen a tv? I haven't seen a tv guys!” Sam lightly thumped the boxes onto a wooden table next to the island.

“You know what it means when there’s no tv?” The blonde teen asked.

(Y/N) mocked her brother by speaking with him in unison, “No MTV.”

The child looked in her direction narrowing his eyes as if to say, you’ll pay for that.

Michael, curling his weights, said, “Sammy we’re flat broke.”

“He knows Michael, he just suffers from spoiled youngest sibling syndrome,” (Y/N) said as she leaned on the kitchen counter.

“Haha… Let’s go look upstairs, I call first pick for rooms!” Sam said as he ran out of the kitchen.

Michael sprinted after his younger brother shouting, “Oh no you don’t!”

As (Y/N) walked up the stairs following her brothers she just thought, I wasn’t joking. Sam was kind of the favorite child, not because their parents didn’t love all of them, but look at Sam. The clothes he wears aren’t exactly inexpensive and he did just complain about not seeing a tv… and demanded changing the radio on the drive here. Those very well could just be normal teen behavior but it could also be the effect of a dad with a white collar job and an ex-hippie mom who believed that saying the word ‘no’ to her kids was too harsh a punishment. (Y/N) loves her little brother, of course she does. She knows that when it comes down to it, he’s willing to do anything for his brother and sister, and especially their mom. She still wishes he wasn’t so goddamn annoying though.

“Okay so- Oh my god what are you doing?!” (Y/N) shouted in a snort of laughter as she walked into her middle child of a brother flipping the younger one by his waist. Immediately after Sam bit Michael's leg causing the brunette to drop his little brother who ran away.

“Move!” Sam exclaimed to (Y/N) who was blocking the door.

“Oh no you don’t! This is too funny!” She said in a fit of laughter trying to keep her little brother in the room.

To no avail, Sam ran out but not before (Y/N) and Michael ran after him down the stairs. Sam let out a chaotic laugh as he ran.

When he saw his mom walk in he shouted, “Mom- Mom you gotta help me!”

“Soon,” Lucy said with plastic cover clothes slinged over her shoulder.

Michael jumped over the railing of the stairs while (Y/N) kept stepping down- like a normal person.

“Hey no running in the house!” Lucy shouted trying to get her kids to calm down.

They weren’t listening to a word she said as they ran for the giant sliding double doors. All three stopped immediately as Sam opened said doors. A glowing red light filled a work space with a table covered in animal skulls. Antlers and sharp bones stuck out in every direction to the point of making the table top disappear.

“Woah…” Was all (Y/N) could say as she was both curious and mildly disturbed.

Michael leaned over their little brother saying, “Talk about the Texas Chainsaw Massacre…”

“Rules!” Grandpa piped up, “We got some rules around here,” he got the kids’ attention as he stopped in his tracks with a large box in hand. Placing the box down he motioned for the kids to follow him. They all walked over to the kitchen where Grandpa opened the fridge.

Flipping up a cut out on the second shelf labeled ‘old fart’ he said, “Second shelf is mine, that’s where I keep my root beer and my double thick oreo cookies.”

Before anyone could say anything he went on, “Nobody touches the second shelf but me,” as he slammed the fridge door closed.

The old man walked off expecting his three grandchildren to follow, saying something about not moving anything. Instead Michael snapped his fingers at Sam to get his attention. The older boy pointed to a plant outside the window, thinking it was marajuana, and motioned his fingers as if he were smoking a blunt.

Looking over at her brothers (Y/N) thought, God they’re idiots, that’s just a yard plant, it’s like they’ve never seen weed a day in their lives…

“You’d be dumb enough to eat a roach,” (Y/N) said as she looked at Michael before following their grandpa. Michael had a tendency for giving into peer pressure while still trying to make it seem like it was his idea.

“Hey Grandpa, is it true that Santa Carla is the murder capitol of the world?” Michael asked as he followed behind his sister.

“Well there’s some bad elements around here…” Grandpa said as he grabbed the tv guide.

Shocked, Sam asked, “Wait let me get this straight; are you telling me we moved to the murder capitol of the world? Are you serious Grandpa?”

Now with all three grandchildren in front of him, Grandpa replied, “Well now let me put it this way, if all the corpses buried around here were to stand up all at once… We’d have one hell of a population problem.”

Lucy, who had stood in the living room once Michael asked the Santa Carla question, sarcastically said, “Great dad,” before she walked up stairs to put away more belongings.

Grandpa continued his ‘rules’ by saying, “Now, on Wednesdays when the mailman brings the tv guide sometimes the address label is curled up a little just a little like that,” pointing to the right lower corner of the floppy book, “Now you’ll be tempted to tear it off but don’t. You’ll only wind up ripping the cover and I don’t like that.”

Getting to his weird workshop room, Grandpa turned around and said, “And stay out of here.”

Before Grandpa could close the sliding double doors, Sam asked, “Wait- What, you have a tv?”

“No, I just like to read the TV guide. You read the tv guide you don’t need a tv,” Grandpa said before finally slamming the doors shut.

“Jeez,” (Y/N) said finally relieved to be out of that situation. She walked back upstairs getting ready to unpack.

(Y/N) chose the room at the end of the hallway. She thought it’d give her the most distance and solitude from her mom and brothers. She adored her family but she still needs her personal space like anyone else. She dug around in the cardboard boxes unpacking things like; box, posters, nic-nacs, and family photos. She got down to one particular photo. It was a baby photo of her, her father, and Lucy. It was before Michael was born, though that wasn’t long since he was only a year younger.

The year was 1968, (Y/N) was only a few months old. The photo was from their old house in Phoenix, around Christmas time. Grandma and Grandpa were visiting from Santa Carla. Grandma Emerson wanted to commemorate the moment of (Y/N)’s first Christmas so she picked up her camera and took a picture. The photo was in black and white since the “colored film was too dang expensive,” according to Grandma. The picture itself was of (Y/N) sitting on a fluffy faux fur blanket and her parents lying on either side with the dark green pine tree decorated in red & silver ornaments behind them. The couple was smiling down at their happy baby girl. (Y/N) vaguely remembers the glowing Christmas lights. 

“Hey sweetie, how’s un-packing going? Need any help?” Lucy stood by the doorway as she asked.

“Oh..uh no I got it but thanks mom…” (Y/N) said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

A concerned look appeared on her mom’s face as she rushed to sit on the bed and hug her daughter.

Rocking her daughter back and forth as she stroked her head she asked, “Awe sweetie what’s wrong?”

“I just miss him, why couldn’t we stay? Why did we have to leave? Why did you have to divorce? I just- I miss dad,” (Y/N) couldn’t hold back the endless stream of tears as she hugged her mom.

“I know sweetie, I know. Sometimes this is just where life takes us… we just have to look to the future since we can’t change the past,” Lucy said, trying to stop herself from crying at this point.

“I know it’s just-“ before (Y/N) finished her brothers entered the room.

“Hey we were thinking…of heading to the…boardwalk…” Sam’s words got smaller as he looked at his mom and sister.

Peeking his head over Sam, Michael asked, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, nothing,” (Y/N) said as she wiped away her tears and quickly stood up.

(Y/N) has never let her brothers see her cry, she was their tough sister. She certainly won’t let it happen now.

[luvendiary]

Hi! Could you do fem!reader has a nightmare and Leo valdez helps us

night terrors / leo valdez

leo valdez x reader

a/n: this is my first time writing for leo. sorry, I suck at writing endings. let me know what you thinks. requests are always open!

As much as Leo was glad that the war was over, he often found himself wishing to be back on the Argo II. If just for the light tinkering that kept him entertained at night. The sound of the cogs, springs, and gears often lulled him onto a sense of comfort until he would be able to fall asleep. Now, back in the city, the noise of cars and drunken teenagers late at night wasn’t exactly the definition of soothing.

That’s how he found himself up in the early hours of the morning tinkering away in the repair shop. You had insisted on having your living space separate from the workshop, but you knew it was inevitable for him to completely set his mind off work. If there’s a will, there’s a way.

He was currently working on a special project, that would let you use cellphones to communicate with each other without catching the attention of any monsters. It was partly because of the commodity of communication, and partly because he couldn’t stop thinking about the look on your face when you had come home ranting about how you wished you could have an easy way to take pictures of your life together. Upon further reflection, he realized that he quite liked the sound of that. Looking back on a lifetime of memories in the form of photographs was something that excited him too.

The tinkering of the work shop and his own thoughts had kept him distracted for too long, and it wasn’t until the sound of clattering coming from your bedroom brought him back to reality, that he realized something might be wrong. He dropped his cogs and gears and rushed upstairs.

As he got closer to your bedroom, he could hear the sound of whimpers and muffled cries. His mind immediately jumped to the worst case scenario and reached out for a spare wrench he had lying around. He did realize that if it was a monster, the metal wouldn’t do anything to harm it, however, as log as its attention was no longer on you, he had a chance to get you out of there safely.

Had his experimenting with cellphones attracted it? If it did, he would never forgive himself for putting you in danger. He should’ve listened to you when you insisted that he shouldn’t overwork himself.

When he peeked inside the room, however, there was no monster in sight. He risked a second glance, and confirmed what he had seen -or rather, not seen- before. It was only you, lying in your bed. Your hair was sprawled messily across the pillows, and your shoulder peeked through the shirt you were wearing -Leo’s- which was a size too big on you. To him, you looked angelic, however the soft cries did not stop. You were tossing and turning while alarmingly mumbling something in your sleep.

Another nightmare. Leo sighed, and carefully sat down by the edge of the bed. His calloused hands rubbed your back tenderly as he whispered reassuring words to you. Eventually, your eyes opened, not without a few stray tears escaping first.

“Leo-” you whimpered as you looked up at him and sat up on your elbows. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No, I was up…” he whispered softly, running his hand along your back.

You hastily whipped your tears off your cheeks and forced a smile up at him.

“The same nightmare again?” he asked, reciprocating the sad attempt of a smile you offered him.

“Yeah, I’m sorry…” you whispered in reply.

“It’s not your fault Y/N/N”.

Then why did you feel as if it was? The past few months have been plagued nonstop with nightmares about death. And not just death in the broad sense, as if your old buddy Thanatos was paying you a visit, but rather your best-fried’s death. Jason was more than just a best friend though, he was your brother, and his absence crushed you like the sky crushed Atlas. It was hard coping with his death, and it was hard having to do it without your sister, Thalia. It’s not as if she had just left you alone, but rather, you had insisted on her leaving with the hunters. You thought it would help her heal.

Piper was a mess, she felt guilty to no end. She hadn’t dare visit you in weeks, and you couldn’t help but be bitter about it. She used to be your friend, now it’s as if she’s just a stranger.

Leo noted your silence and climbed up into your bed completely, “You know he wouldn’t want you to feel like this. There was nothing you could do about it.”

You nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck and took in his scent, “I just… I miss him so much”, you whispered, your voice breaking half through.

“I know, I do too”.

You stayed like that for a while, allowing you to be comforted by each other’s warmth. You traced shapes on Leo’s abdomen until you eventually hit a ticklish spot, making him squirm a little. You chuckled, and looked up at him with a watery smile. “What were you working on?”

He sighed and offered you a mischievous smile, he knew you didn’t like him working up late. You’d much rather prefer that he spent the late nights with you, curled up in bed. “It was supposed to be a surprise, but we could do with some cheering up”.

He leaned up on his elbows and looked down at you with the same mischievous smile you had fallen in love with. His accent started showing a little, that’s how you knew it was exciting for him. You also knew that with him by your side you’d be fine. So as he ranted about the new invention he was working on, you listened carefully, eyes glimmering with a mixture of sadness and joy.

[usoppinggg]

Un-Thinkable (I'm Ready)

Chapter 04: Rest Easy

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

In many ways, Sanji’s life stays the same. She spends long hours at The All Blue preparing meals, managing her staff, and chatting up her customers. She feeds her friends when they stop by and yells when they try to overstay their welcome. But now there’s a new presence in her life that takes up much of her attention.

Over the last few weeks, Usopp has been stopping by the All Blue in between his myriad of jobs around the Grand Line. He stops by for a meal in between his gigs of doing repairs, fixing cars, painting murals, and teaching art to kids, among other things. Usopp is just as busy as Sanji, if not busier, but he always manages to pop in for a bite to eat and a good conversation.

To her chagrin, Sanji’s staff are extremely smitten with Usopp. They make him extra snacks and desserts behind her back (as if she doesn’t do that herself!). She catches chefs and wait staff alike conversing with Usopp at his regular spot—the same table near the kitchen he sat the first time he visited the restaurant—instead of working like they’re meant to be doing.

“You never take a break,” Usopp chastises when Sanji joins him for lunch one day. He’s munching on the newest dish Sanji has prepared for him. Like many of the other meals he is treated to, the food in front of him has been made from a recipe Sanji has been working on in hopes of adding it to the menu. 

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Sanji retorts. “Do you sleep or do you spend all your time running around the city making it a better place?” Sanji narrows her eyes at Usopp. “You’re not actually Spider-Man, are you? … Nah, can’t be. Too much hair to fit under the mask.”

Usopp rolls their eyes and takes a big bite of their food. “Of course, my hair would fit. Everyone knows that Spider-Man’s mask has Hammer Space, Sanji, don’t be dense.”

Sanji doesn’t tell Usopp that actually, she didn’t know that because she’s not a nerd who knows what the hell Hammer Space is. 

Usopp continues. “I do a lot of work, too, I know, but at least I allow myself to rest, unlike some stubborn chefs around here.” For that, Sanji steals a forkful of his vegetables, smirking around the mouthful as Usopp squawks in protest. “Seriously, Sanji, you work too hard! I’m afraid that one day you’re gonna pass out or get really sick!”

It’s Sanji’s turn to roll her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. You sound like Chopper.”

“Oh, you mean our friend? Who is a very smart and very talented doctor? If I sound like him then you should definitely listen to me.” 

“Come on, Usopp,” Sanji groans, “give it a break.”

“I will when you give yourself a break.”

The two are locked in a glaring contest until Sanji breaks it off with a resigned sigh. 

“I’ll look at my schedule and take a day off when I can, happy now?”

“Depends,” Usopp hums, tapping the fork against his bottom lip. “Would you be willing to put that in writing?”

“No. Now get out of here and go help Franky at his place before he yells at me again.”

[continue reading on ao3]