#sunday who kind of looks down on others [in a way that a god might pity the weak] who hates being looked down upon

[nohymn]

i was refreshing on the wonweek and sunday exchanges and this one still tickles me because so much is said.

i already surmised before this that sunday wasn't someone who took well to being "pitied" in his eyes [something to do with his pride, as well as his rhetoric with the weak and the strong and how he factors himself into this; that's something i can write a rambling post about another day], but having it confirmed was delightful. there's something there with his strain for condescension in contrast that i can't place.

and of course there's the elephant in the room of how he responds better to criticism and critique than he would someone genuinely showing him sympathy. punishment and disappointment will make him move, but smothering him won't. if he's met with condemnation, he can ruminate but do something about it, because he's given something to work with, and it goes against his perfectionism, which is a struggle in of itself; but there's not really much he can do with someone feeling sorry for him, and it makes him feel small and weak when there's this constant urge to fix something. it isn't conductive.

[ohnococo]

Dating Co-Worker Hiromi Higuruma HCs

(A follow up to these headcanons. Your co-worker Hiromi Higuruma has been pining for you, and has been kind of a pervert about it. That's definitely still the case now that you're actually dating.)

Hiromi Higuruma who feels guilty about the whole thing because you can’t be dating co-workers… like you literally can’t. It’s against company policy and Jesus fucking Christ neither of you need the stress of this and if you got caught he would feel like it was his fault forever.

Hiromi Higuruma who, when you decide to see each other, reiterates (despite not needing to) that you can’t risk doing anything at work that might indicate you’re dating. 

Hiromi Higuruma who seems to forget that constantly when you’re sitting next to each other in meetings and he takes chances to brush his fingers against yours under the table.

Hiromi Higuruma who is very bad at stopping himself from giving you that “sappy sleepy Sunday morning I’m in love” smile over lunch with the rest of your co-workers. 

Hiromi Higuruma who basically forgets to not look at you like you’re the only two people in the room about ten times a day. When you speak he looks at you like you’re only talking to him, when you make a joke he laughs like you’re on a date. And… it’s really only slightly more obvious than when you hadn’t been dating, to be honest. You warn him about it in private but it would probably be more odd to your co-workers if he suddenly stopped acting like this. 

NSFW/18+ ONLY UNDER THE CUT

Hiromi Higuruma who still can’t handle how much he wants you during the work day even though he literally just has to wait until after work hours when you’re behind closed doors. He doesn’t even care how pathetic he sounds in his texts begging you to “please please please send me a pic of your panties” his heart will be racing when he sees you going to the bathroom and whatever he’s doing is paused while he waits to hopefully get a text from you of you partially undressed. 

Hiromi Higuruma who can’t see you at the copier without thinking of how much he’d love to fill your panties with his cum in the middle of the day.

Hiromi Higuruma who randomly texts you the filthiest string of consciousness about how bad he wants to cum down your throat or wants to fuck you until you can’t remember your name or have you choking him with both of your pretty hands while he fucks up into you. You’ll glance at him across the office and he honest to god looks fucking stressed about how bad he wants to fuck you.

Hiromi Higuruma who, after litigation goes to absolute shit in a case he’s been stressing over for ages, takes you into the bathroom on the creepy abandoned floor that's closed for refurbishments due to damp and fucks you til you have to make an excuse for disappearing in middle of the day. There’s no way you’ll be able to make yourself look presentable within a reasonable timeframe and it becomes clear you’ll be the one having to hold firm on the “no fooling around in the office” rule after that. He just gets a little too rowdy once he has his hands on you.

Hiromi Higuruma who, after a week of no pics during the work day, no responses to his dirty texts, and not even a quick kiss in the stairwell, pulls you into the supply closet and actually gets on his hands and knees begging for you to please suck his cock. (You're beginning to think there's something about fooling around in the office that makes him even more depraved than usual).

Hiromi Higuruma who, when you tell him absolutely fucking not because he’ll leave you looking a complete mess, when switches to begging you to let him go down on you instead. He’s smart, and saw the look in your eyes when he’d first gotten down on his knees for you, and opts to stay that way while he makes you cum with his mouth. You can’t even be mad when he starts stroking himself fast and rough while he does it, the cum all over his trousers and shirt is his problem, not yours. 

Hiromi Higuruma who, despite the added stress of getting caught, actually seems way more happy and productive at work because he’s comparatively released a lot of the previous stressors he had. He no longer has to feel so bad about jerking off to innocent pictures of you, cumming even harder when he unloads all over your face on the screen. He no longer has to feel bad over the time he stole your (clean) panties to spend a week using to jerk off until you returned from vacation. He no longer has to feel bad over the time he came over to yours to get some work done and excused himself to go to the bathroom and steal your (dirty) panties out of your hamper and pocketed them. And he definitely no longer has to feel bad over the second time you let him house sit and he spent days in your bed masturbating, sucking on your sex toys, feeling elated with what he thought would be the closest he got to doing all the filthy things he couldn’t stop thinking of doing with you. It was all okay because you did actually like him in the end, right? 

[mullermilkshake]

Hi! 😊

Your writing is so immersive that it feels cinematic—like watching a movie unfold in real time. I love how you always manage to surprise me with plot twists that I never see coming! It’s such a refreshing change from knowing exactly where the story is headed.

I’d absolutely love if you could give Yandere!Reader another go with Nanamin. I think it would be fascinating since Nanami’s level-headedness might keep him from suspecting her. And if you're open to poly ships, it’d be thrilling to add Gojo into the mix with a twist—Yandere!Reader x Nanami x Gojo, but with Gojo secretly yandere all along. Maybe he’s been stalking both of them, planning for the perfect moment to reveal his obsession and orchestrating their “first meeting” to suit his agenda. I’ll leave the rest to your creativity, as I’m sure you’ll bring unexpected layers and depth!

Thank you for considering this! I’m so grateful for all the hard work you put into your stories. 😊🌸

Thanks so much for the kind words! It really means a lot. I love trying to write it all cinematic and doing things that go against the grain because my brain is twisted lol.

I can definitely do that, I hope you enjoy it!

PART ONE - Kento Nanami x Reader x Satoru Gojo

TAGS- Yandere!Reader,Yandere!Gojo,Stalking,Thoughts of killing people,Yandere!thoughts and motives,Masking,Graphic depictions of violence and mentions of damage to eyes.

One americano, two shots of espresso and two pumps of vanilla. Every day at seven thirty five. But not on Sundays sometimes because meetings run over. 

“Oh! I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going- oh god look at your suit, it must be expensive right?”

It was about time you made proper contact with Kento Nanami. You watched on in awe at his stance, brushing the coffee away from his suit in such a way it made the mundane action sexy. Lustrous. Like he was trying to make the way he allowed a strand of hair to fall past his forehead almost purposefully. With an intent to send you crazy.

Good thing you weren’t like those fangirls you often saw on television, crawling about the stage because a man gyrated over his mic. No, you were merely a coffee barista. A damn good one at that. Well, except for spilling coffee all over Kento’s suit.

But how else were you going to get his attention?

You were barely hanging on as it was watching the others make his drink to order. That’s why you made this one for him.

Jesus fucking hell Utahime It’s two pumps of vanilla. I swear I could kill that bitch right now. Shove head under the hot water valve and watch her eyes burn out the sockets.

It was a little drastic, even for you, but if anyone just saw the way Utahime was talking to Kento they would have assumed the two were dating or something. Kento Nanami was single. Definitely single.

The last girl he wanted to date just never made it to that coffee date on time.

None of his other dates did either.

“It’s fine, really.” The first sentence he spoke to you wasn't ‘thank you’ or his coffee order.

A formulated sentence.

Well, that was five months ago. Kento Nanami made the right choice that day to accept your invitation for a drink. Just like you planned. All seemed well and good for a time before you were noticing something strange when out in public.

White hair.

It was all you seemed to ever see. Out in the store or late night trip to the movies, hooked up to Kento’s arm during a scary or suspenseful part. It just seemed to be there, though you never knew who it belonged to. Never a face to linger for a second to make the connection. Just nothing. It tickled the back of your neck, putting you on the defense as though Kento was in danger. What sort of fucked up person would stalk someone? The idea of it was deranged, sick at the thought that someone was watching him, watching you with him.

White hair. You just couldn’t place it.

“Ken, love! What do you think of this dress?!” You called from upstairs, slipping on your shoes and smoothing down the hem of the fabric.

“I’m sure it’s perfect-” He paused, looking you up and down as though studying every inch of your body before he forgot what it looked like.

“Do I look pretty?”

He nodded slowly, stepping close to sit his hand on your waist. “You look beautiful.”

Hearing Kento say such kind and wonderful things made your night, heck, your entire week. Who gave a crap what anyone else thought? Just Kento was more than what you needed to prove that he liked you very much. You loved him of course, but that was love at first sight. Counting down the agonising days until he said it back to you, when you told him all the time in your head or whilst he slept. It took restraint not to slip up and make him doubt things.

So difficult not to say it for the man you loved.

“Thank you.” You giggled at his touch, planting a kiss on your temple with a husky growl in his throat.

“Maybe we should leave dinner tonight? I can’t possibly see how I’ll cope without taking you back to mine straight away. Too beautiful.”

“Restrain yourself, Ken. Someone might think you’re in love with me or something!” Your ecstatic grin sat just in front of your face as though to mask your brain away.

Say it… just say it please. Tell me you love me. I need to hear it. 

His attentive smile made your stomach flip when he pulled you close and spun you around to face the mirror. “If they saw your smile, they would understand what a lovely person you are. And see how I can’t resist you when you’re in a dress like this.”

Oh dear. Maybe some other time. 

“Well,” You kept that mask on and pulled away from him. “Should we get going then? Don’t want to be late.”

“Of course.” 

Kento drove straight to the restaurant, quite an upscale place for no occasion. Maybe there was? Perhaps Kento had something planned that you were unaware of, something spontaneous or quite the opposite. A planned surprise? It was practically the night of your five month month anniversary after all, two hundred wonderful days spent seeing each other and having astronomical sex. 

You didn’t get your hopes up and held your breath when he climbed out of the car and opened the door for you. So special. So dedicated to your comfort with the slightest touch from his fingers on the small of your back. Adrenaline made everything ten times more acute, aware of everything and anything you walked by and as you seated yourself at the table facing Kento, your heart beat so fast. Five months was a long time when you had waited longer to be with him.

You were basically in a relationship with him for well over a year by now it seemed, surely that was long enough to hear those three words?

“Can I get you any drinks?” The waitress grinned at Kento and then at you.

Why him first? He was the most handsome man you had ever seen, but what right did this bitch have setting eyes on him? You ignored the irritation and blinked it away for now, letting Kento speak for you and took a moment to observe the room.

White hair.

A flash of it and you would have missed it had you turned away to scowl at the waitress again. White hair like you were imagining it.

“Darling?”

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?” Kento slid his hand forward and offered it to you. “You seem distant.”

“I’m fine.” You were not, but took his hand anyway. “It’s a little chilly in here, don’t you think?”

“I’ll ask them to turn the heat up, will that be alright?” 

He’s so considerate. “That would be great, thank you.”

You played it off and ignored the itch on the back of your neck, being watched did not agree with you. Kento sat still and his head tilted to the side a little, studying you again whilst his free hand rummaged into his suit pocket.

“I have something for you.” He pulled out a little box. “I know we haven’t been dating that long, but I wanted to get you something I hope you’ll like. If it’s too early, please let me know.”

A box. A small little box. It was light in your hand, velvet to the touch and firm enough that it must have come from those places that sold rings for stupid money. One little box, something so small which held your heart right in Kento’s pocket.

Is he proposing? Please tell me he’s proposing. It means he loves me, right? 

“Ken… What-” A pair of earrings.

“I know you lost one from the pair you always said you wore, so I wanted to get you a new pair. I hope it’s appropriate.”

You forbid yourself to be disappointed, because it wasn’t about the hope that a ring sat nestled perfectly in this box. You put up your mask and smiled sweetly enough to satisfy him. “It is. Thank you so much, I love them!”

He’ll propose some day. 

“Here are your drinks.” 

The waitress took Kento’s drink off first and placed it right in front of him. Then she placed yours down off to the side. She was doing it on purpose, you were sure of it. The steak knife on the table looked pretty good to shove straight in her neck- 

She cleared her throat and placed the tray under her arm. “I’ll be back in a moment to see what you'd like to order.”

“Thank you.” Kento paid no mind to it and took a sip of his wine. “This is a nice vintage, I think we should go to one of those wine tasting evenings. It’s a good place to get to know each other more.”

You did not need to know Kento more. You knew practically everything about him in the four months he stepped into your life physically. 

He liked to drink, hence the wine tasting suggestion. Kento also enjoyed cooking, especially as he lived alone in his apartment, but he also enjoyed dishing up delicacies in your own kitchen. His birthday was July third and he had a particular interest in the arts, like music and theatre. A man of many tastes. 

“Hello there, can I get you something to eat?” A voice of a man you did not recognise came into ear shot.

“I think we might need a minute. Our waitress is taking our order.”

White hair.

You looked up and saw white hair, only this time it did not disappear. The white hair had a face, a blue eyed porcelain complexion with a smooth grin. The man stood taller than Kento dressed in a suit and staff ID.

“I’m sorry, she suddenly became unwell and had to go home. I’ll be taking your order tonight.” He smiled again and made eye contact with you. “My name is Satoru Gojo and I will do everything I can to make sure your night is perfect.”

Gojo. His gaze over you was the exact same distinct feeling of being preyed on. His cutting glare just behind the loose strands of hair over his forehead that looked softer than a cloud. You didn’t know what to make of this, but at least that waitress was gone. You really thought you were going to have to do something about her.

“Alright then. I’ll be back momentarily.”

“Ken, I’m just going to use the restroom, if he comes back before then, can you order me…” You took a brief glance at the menu and chose anything you first landed your eyes on. Gojo wandered off towards the opposite end of the restaurant, somewhere not where the kitchen was. “The steak? I’ll have it however it’s recommended.”

“Alright.”

You took off and made your way over towards the restroom, noting that he had disappeared. Crap. You wanted answers to why it seemed like that man was following you, stalking Kento for no apparent reason.

Would you need to do something about this guy? He was taller than you realised, so he must have been stronger too. You were not super strong by a long stretch, but when pushed enough to the limit, it drove you to do things you thought your body was not capable of.

Just look at the last waitress that brought the wrong drink and almost spilt it all over him just last week. So much blood and she was still wailing after you shoved your stiletto heel in her face.

People never learn. 

By the time you reached the restroom, the stalls were all empty besides one. The long wall length mirror outlined them all like little match boxes opened after use, showing the amber light inside for an ambient glow.

“How did I know that I’d find you in here, hm?” Gojo’s voice echoed throughout the restroom.

It startled you enough to move towards the door and lock it, backing away from the closed door and sitting your back flush with the slate grey tiles adjacent to it.

The toilet stall opened and he came out much less cheerful than he was outside, hands tight in his trouser pockets. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Who are you?”

“It’s funny, no one else ever seems to notice me when I don't want them to. But your instincts are hot on it every time, aren’t they?”

“Tell me who you are.” 

This wasn’t a show of weakness or a moment that revealed your vulnerabilities. When you glared back in his eyes, it was Kento you thought of. If this man was here to hurt him, well, you’d fucking kill him. Out in the back alley, no witnesses and back in time for your steak and boyfriend you’d do anything for. To kill for three times over already. Yes, you’d do it if the opportunity called for it.

“Y’know, I was so ready to come and kick the shit out of that guy when I saw that little box he gave you, but I see right through that little charade you got goin’ on. I've been watching' you a while now.” By now, he’d taken precisely four steps towards you, taking the opportunity to lean against the row of inbuilt sinks. “You’re exactly like me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you need to stop stalking me and my boyfriend. I’ll call the police.”

Gojo’s laugh made your stomach lurch. This guy was a whole new level of crazy you had never seen before. “That’s cute. You’re cute. But no, I’m not stalking him, just you.”

“Then stop doing that.”

“Why, aren’t you scared that I might do what I just said I was goin’ to do? He looks strong but when he has his hands all over you, it sorta drives me crazy.”

Gojo would not make it past the restroom door if he intended on hurting Kento. Yet, why did you contemplate that you’d rather take on the waitress instead of him right now?

Shaking the doubts away, you imagined the scenarios that may occur should you get hold of another steak knife or any other sharp object really. One of the heavy statues in the foyer could prove adequate to crush his head or even one of those little blow torches for creme brûlée right to his face.

For now, your mask dropped, and for a time you could breathe a little. Pretending to be happy all the time was difficult work and holding back on punching anyone who gave eyes at Kento took practice and great restraint. “If you go near him at all, I’ll kill you. I won’t just kill you though, it’ll be worse than torture.”

Gojo stepped closer to you and looked down as though you were a child to be patronised. “That’s my girl. Now, why don’t you introduce me to your little boyfriend so we can make this more official, huh?”

He’d backed you into a corner, right up against the wall. “I meant what I said. Don’t come near us.”

“And I know you have the same urges as me, you think no one sees, but I do. I see you. You won’t have to pretend around me. I’ll even do all your dirty work, that’s what I enjoy most.” He placed his palm on the wall beside your head, leaning in so his mouth was right next to your ear. 

“Lets get this fucked up little love triangle kickin’ hm?

[cheriladycl01]

Fast Cars on the Island - Oscar Piastri x LoveIslandContestant! Reader Part 4

Plot: Your an engineer for Mclaren and you were asked as a PR stunt to go onto Love Island. You would keep your job of course but Mclaren wanted some more media traction.

A/N: I know they would never do this, and that's why its fiction!

Around the fire pit:

“Oh god I’m so nervous? They didn’t say genders or anything” Zavi cries looking towards you as the boys start to take their seats.

“What do you think it will be?” Charlie asks you and you shrug, having no idea how the producers would sway it. Two boys, two girls or a boy and a girl. Whatever they did at this point would stir up some kind of drama.

“I’m not sure, but I think it will probably be one of each” you hand him a small smile.

“I think you might be right Y/N” Aaron smiles at you before getting some nods from the other girls.

“It just makes the most logical sense to me, and then that way it still is the girls choice” you smile nodding.

“Why am I so nervous!” Millie exclaims shaking your shoulders a little. She sits next to Daniel who wraps an arm around her shoulder.

After more conversing, the sound of the sliding glass doors to the Villa make all your heads turn seeing a guy and girl walk out through the curtains.

“Hey!” the girl cheerily smiles with a little wave.

“Sup” the guy next to her cheekily smiles before making their way over to the fire pit.

“Hiya! Omg it’s so exciting to have you here! Please introduce yourself!” Auriela gestures for them to take seats around the fire pit.

The guy sits in between Aaron and Zavi, whilst Chelsea sits in between you and Chris.

“I’m Max, I’m 26 and I work as a secondary school maths teacher” the guy smiles and your head snaps to him in shock, with a small giggle. You could imagine all of his students finding out he was in love island and teasing the hell out of him for it.

“Im Chelsea I’m 25 and I’m a Tattoo Artist” she offers and you all nod.

You all talk, getting to know the two newbies whilst still finding stuff out about the current contestants.

Two phones ping simultaneously from Max and Chelsea making you all nervously fidget. You knew from having watched the show that it would be the two new islanders either choosing dates or the public choosing them dates.

“Max, please get ready for two dates tonight chosen by public choice. You’ll have your main course with Millie and your dessert with Y/N” he reads out the text and you look up in shock.

Were the public trying to make your life harder than it already was in this Villa. You weren’t ready for the drama that would most likely unfold.

“Chelsea please get ready for two dates tonight chosen by public choice. You’ll have your main course with Aaron and your dessert with Charlie” Chelsea reads out.

And with that you watched as Millie left with Max and Chelsea left with Aaron for their first dates. You immediately walked over to Daniel to comfort him.

“Hey, look I know it’s not fun” you sigh patting his back and he looks down.

“Is it bad of me to admit I’m more worried about going home this early on than possibly loosing Millie?” He jokes but you know what he means, people who went out this early on never felt like that had a full shot.

“I get that, and I think you being a lot to the Villa Daniel, despite it being night one i can see a friend in you that extends to outside this villa” you smile at him.

“Yeah me too” he nods.

“Look, you deserve to stay in if Millie gets chosen AND Aaron gets chosen by Chelsea. I’ll pick you any day of the week” you smile at him nudging his side teasingly, but he has a serious look on his face.

“Thank you Y/N seriously!” He says pulling you into a hug.

Lando and Oscar:

“Woah, talk about bombshells” Lando says chewing on a sweet that Oscar had brought over to his hotel room. It had became a weekly Sunday thing for them after races to watch you on the TV. It was kind of a weird feeling seeing you in these kinds of places and in this way when they were used to you in team gear around the paddock looking at data or fixing the car.

“Who do you recon they’ll end up with?” Oscar asks.

“What the newbies?” Lando replies finally taking his eyes of the screen. Oscar just nods letting Lando know that is what he meant.

“I recon Chelsea will choose Aaron and then Max will choose Millie, and Y/N is the type to go back on her word so she’ll end up with Daniel and both get to Casa Amore together if they have too” Lando explains as if he is an expert.

“Interesting” Oscar admits, only thinking of Casa Amore, when 4 new islanders for each gender came to the villa.

Back at the Villa:

It was time for your date with Max and both you and Charlie walked out the Villa together before turning in separate directions.

You walked up to a little gazebo with foliage and fairy lights around it, it was a really nice set up and you couldn’t help but feel lucky to have a date in such a nice area.

Throwing yourself into your career meant that you didn’t really have time to experience all the countries you got to see with someone else. It was always you alone.

“This is really nice” you smile to him.

“Yeah i wish I could take credit for it but definitely can’t” he laughs and you guys end up having a really good night. You ask him about teaching only to find out his students had no idea he’d come into the tv show.

And before you know it, it’s time to go back.

You were all sat around the campfire apart from Chelsea and Max who were stood next to each other ready to choose.

“I’m choosing this guy because he was really genuine and sweet on our date and I can see myself progressing furthest with him as of right now. We connected a lot on the date and I believe he is the right choice”

“The boy i would like to couple up with is Aaron” Chelsea finishes and Aaron begrudgingly goes to stand next to her after sharing small eye contact with you.

Max goes next a smile on his face.

“So the girl I want to couple up with, made me feel like we had a connection straight away. Talking to her was so natural and I felt like this is the right choice. I’m not normally one to step on people’s toes but it’s a really different environment in here and I’ve come at a really difficult point of the show”

“So the girl I have chosen to couple up with is Millie” he smiles and Millie looks down but you can tell she is smiling and blushing. You caught eyes with Daniel who didn’t look to put of by the situation. He nods to you, communication of what you’d do at the recoupling now it had swung the way you thought it would.

You were slightly gutted that Aaron was now coupled up and it felt like you two were never actually going to have a chance together.

You heard was all over the place, was this still just PR or were you actually wanting to find someone in here … and was that someone Aaron.

“Okay, in this order from yesterdays challenge the girls will pick who they want to couple up with. Auriela, Zavi, and Y/N” the presenter says and Auriela stands up.

“So I’ve been coupled up with this guy from the start and I want to see where things go as we’ve been having loads of fun getting to know one another, we have loads in common and I can’t wait to see where this goes. The boy id like to couple up with is Chris” Auriela smiles.

Zavi stands up next, looking a little nervous.

“So I want to couple up with this boy because our chats in the Villa lately have seriously changed my opinion on him. He’s really sweet and caring and I don’t think he was given a proper first chance so the boy id like to couple up with is …” she pauses as if she’s debating what she’s going to do.

“Charlie” and gasps come around, no one having expected her to have gone with him.

Lando and Oscar:

“NO WAY! That’s crazy! I thought she was going to stay with that Jai” Oscar exclaims.

“Dude you could tell with those conversations they were having yesterday they were getting it on” Lando chuckles taking a sip of his Red Bull.

“I thought they were just getting to know each other!” Oscar explains to him, not having seen the longing eyes shared or the flirty undertones.

“And that my friend is why you got nowhere with Y/N when she was here” Lando teases, and it was supposed to be a joke but they both knew there was some truth behind that.

Back in the Villa:

“Okay it’s time for our final girl, to choose who she will end up with. Very strange circumstance for you Y/N” the presenter says as you stand up at the front.

“Yeah it’s been an interesting one that’s for sure. And I think I haven’t fully been able to make connections yet which is a shame and I want to be stable going into the next recoupling after this and I think discussions were held before about what I was going to do depending on the outcome of Max and Chelsea’s choices, this is a game and I have to be strategic so the boy id like to couple up with is Daniel” you smile and he comes up to you, to finally stand next to you and kisses your temple.

“Thank you” he whispers and you just smile and nod.

“I always keep my promises” you smile tugging on his arm in a friendly way.

You all start to say goodbye to Jai, sad that one of the original islanders was gone before heading off to your new sleeping arrangements.

“Night islanders” Charlie shouts as he cuddles Zavi from the back grinning like a school boy before he pulls her down and under the covers.

A chorus of replies cross the room before the lights dim for the night.

You and Daniel quietly talk to each other about the day, trying not to disturb your fellow islanders before sleep finds the both of you.

Lando and Oscar:

“I’m guess what she does within McLaren will come out soon… PR have a close eye on this, for obvious reasons” Oscar observes making Lando laugh.

“Yeah I’m pretty sure they’d have a field day if she started having sex on camera while being under the McLaren name. PR nightmare” Lando chuckles but it makes Oscar freeze.

He forgot how raunchy the dating show could be, and he couldn’t help but he jealous of anyone on the show who got even the tiniest bit closer to that than he ever did.

“The headlines would ruin her” Oscar agrees with a shudder whilst they continue to watch on as the credits roll for this weekends episode.

A/N: A lot of people are suggesting Oscar go into the Villa and he will, but … only when the time is right :)

Also sorry I haven’t posted on a while, going from being on holiday to the chaos of moving into a new house I haven’t had much time lately.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[aww-canon-no]

Steddie Fic- 9 Stops

9 Stops

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rated: Everyone (but with kissing)

Deaf Eddie, newly deaf Steve, meet cute, modern fic, no upside down

Summary:  And holy shit this might be his chance because…Yeah.  Yep.

Yes.

Steve is kissing him.  It’s warm and better than he imagined, and it’s really, really scary because Eddie has never liked someone so much in his entire life and God, if he wakes up and this is a dream he’s going to fucking lose it.

Note: You have all been so nice?  Im crying?  This fandom is so soft.  Posting one more Tumblr one-shot tonight.  This time with kissing.I gave you Deaf Steve so now have Deaf Eddie/deaf Steve (big D little d, not an innuendo)

Word Count: 2400

*** 

The train is quiet.  In a literal sort of way, everything is quiet for Eddie Munson who was born deaf and remained deaf despite all the praying and laying hands and shit that adults were always doing at his parents’ church when he was little.

That was before CPS got involved and Wayne stepped in and made things better.

But in a more metaphorical way, the train is quiet because—what most people don’t understand—the Deaf community is loud.  And he means that in every way it’s possible to mean that.  Everything is turned up to max volume so they can feel it.  When they get together it’s big gestures and faces all twisted up in expression and wagging tongues and stomping feet and…it’s a lot.

It ain’t your momma’s sweet little interpreter at Sunday Service kind of deaf.

He doesn’t regret the job working at the center, but he takes the train home instead of carpooling with the other guys because it’s going to get loud again when he meets up with the rest of Corroded Coffin for band practice.  They met at school when Eddie was finally allowed to leave the nonsense of mainstream education he couldn’t actually understand behind him.

Garret wanted to call the band something like Deaf Devils which Eddie flat out refused because he will not—under pain of death or torture—ever be obvious or predictable.

Also why he takes the train.

At least, why he used to.

Now he takes the train because he takes the train.  The Hair, Eddie’s been calling him.  It’s a sign name that Steve Harrington doesn’t actually know about since he doesn’t interact with Eddie.  Eddie doesn’t do intake or adult shit.  He mostly works with newly deafened teens, or teens that have come from hearing homes and are finally allowed to get more involved in the Deaf community.

They call it socializing but it ’s mostly a way for Eddie to be able to run the most badass DnD campaigns known to man and get paid for it.  It’s maybe the sweetest job he’s ever had and there’s no chance in hell he’s ever giving it up.

But he noticed Steve when he showed up—looking like a scared, lost little lamb the way they all do when their world has been flipped upside down.  And Eddie does feel sympathy for him.  Steve looks like the kind of guy Eddie hate. The kind of jock that liked to push Eddie into trash cans and lockers because—surprising absolutely no one—Deaf school had preppy jock assholes too.

So Eddie mostly avoids Steve and his polo shirts and his annoyingly glorious hair for a really long time.  And he definitely doesn’t get soft on the inside whenever he sees the look of frustration on Steve’s face when he comes out of the ASL level one class.

Eddie remembers it pretty well, but not well enough to relate.  He also never lost a sense so he’s not quite sure what Steve’s going through.  

But he’s not a monster.  He feels.

He feels too much sometimes.

He kind of wants to tell Steve that it gets not just a little better, but so fucking much better.  That it’s a big deal that Steve came to the center because most people his age just get some metal and magnets slapped inside their skulls and hope for the best and move on without realizing they don’t actually have to choose between one or the other.

They don’t have to lose one to gain.

Or something poetic like that.

He needs to write that down.  It sounds like it could be a pretty decent song lyric.

Anyway, Eddie used to take the two o’clock train, but now he pushed it to three because that’s when Steve shows up at the station with his head down and his hearing aids off and his fingers all twisting in his lap like he’s trying to quietly practice everything he learned that day.  Eddie notices the shaking, and he notices the dark bags under Steve’s eyes.

Steve doesn’t notice him though.  He’s not quite there yet.  At that place where sight replaces sound naturally, and he starts noticing everything around him without waiting to hear it.  

He can’t help but keep his eyes on Steve, even squashed between two dudes—one of whom is eating legit an actual to-go box full of fettuccini alfredo.

And of course that happens to be the moment Steve finally looks up and sees him.  After six weeks, Steve finally notices.

His lips twitch.  Eddie braces himself because he expects Steve to be maybe angry.  It’s obvious Steve recognizes him.

Then Steve raises a hand��a small and subtle thing.  ‘Hi.’

Eddie snorts.  ‘Hi.’

Steve goes on a face journey which Eddie reads like one of his favorite novels and in spite of himself, he smiles wider.

‘You think this guy would freak out of I took a bite of his food?’ Eddie chances.

There’s no way in hell Steve’s that far along in his lessons, but he watches as Steve’s lips curve around a couple of the words he knows.

‘Don’t understand.  Sorry,’ Steve finally signs, back—still subtle like he doesn’t want to be noticed.  Then he yawns, the kind that Eddie knows probably cracks his jaw.

He stands up without realizing it and moves across to sit beside his not-friend.  He sticks out his fist and they knock knuckles—a fairly safe greeting.

Steve sighs.  ‘Sorry,’ he signs again.

‘I know,’ Eddie tells him.  ‘Give it time.’

Steve must have learned that one from his teacher saying it over and over to his students.  It’s not your average ASL class.  It’s not hearing people trying to get a credit, or start a new job or something.  It’s all people in Steve’s shoes trying to learn how to communicate again without making their brain feel like it’s full of static electricity.

‘You’re tired,’ Eddie signs.

Steve nods, then remembers to respond with a fist.  ‘Yes’

Eddie laughs and shakes his head.  ‘What’s your stop?’  He signs it slowly and fingerspells some so Steve will understand.  Train-STATION, yours, which?

Steve licks his lips, then lifts a hand, pinky touching his thumb.  ‘Sixth AVE.’

Eddie nods decidedly, then shuffles so close their thighs touch.  Steve startles, but Eddie just reaches over and tugs Steve’s head until it falls against him.  ‘Sleep,’ he tells him.  They have nineteen stops to go—and that’s nine past Eddie’s.  But he’s done worse things than ride the train all evening.

Steve stiffens like he’s going to put up a fight for a second, and then his body relaxes.  He’s asleep before stop four.  He’s snoring so loud that Eddie can feel it rumbling against his side by stop seven.

By stop sixteen Eddie hates himself for what he has to do.

At stop eighteen he gently prods Steve who wakes up with a jolt and stares around like he doesn’t know where he is.  Their gazes lock, then his shoulders sag.

‘Thank you,’ he signs.  His fingers are nice.  Lovely, in fact, the way they tip from his chin.  Watching him blossom into the language will be a real treat.

If Eddie’s invited in.

***

So.

Train naps become a thing.

Eddie meets him at the entrance to the station, and Steve tells him one or two facts about his day with his growing vocabulary—and he probably picks up some colorful commentary and slang—and some of Eddie’s home-grown home-signs which is alright by him.  Just…hopefully he doesn’t get yelled at in class for using them.

Because then Eddie will get yelled at later. Scott Clarke will definitely know where they came from.  But it’s kind of hard to care because Steve scrunches up his face when he’s processing something new.

And Eddie’s halfway in love and he’s not interested at all in pumping the brakes, even if Steve seems pretty goddamn straight and will only break Eddie’s heart in the end.

***

It’s twelve weeks now and Steve’s starting to look better.  A little more rested.

It’s a Tuesday the first time Steve doesn’t fall asleep, but he also doesn’t put space between them, either.  He stares at his hands for a while, then he looks up at Eddie.

‘I,’ he starts.  ‘Went deaf overnight.’

That…’sss a surprise.  That’s not super common to just randomly go deaf.  At least, not in someone as young as Steve who can’t be more than twenty-five.  Not that Eddie hasn’t seen stranger things, but still.

He can tell Steve’s not done with his story.

‘Dr told me I had three tumors and I would go deaf eventually,’ he signs it Deaf-future-later like he’s not sure which one is right and Eddie just lets him have it.  His brain’s interpreting it juuuust fine.  ‘I was sad, but okay.’

Eddie nods.  That-that.

Steve smiles and bites his lip before letting it go and it’s all spit-slick and shiny and Eddie wants to taste it so badly.  ‘I fell,’ he signs.

Eddie clarifies that he means he physically fell.

Steve touches the back of his head.  ‘Nineteen STITCHES.  CONCUSSION.’

Eddie winces.  He’s has his fair share of head injuries from mosh pits and other stupid shit, but those were injuries he all-but chose to have.  Steve looks devastated.

‘Dizzy,’ he signs.  ‘VERTIGO.’

Eddie shows him the sign for that and Steve copies it.

‘I couldn’t walk.  Tried everything.  Fail.’

Eddie winces again.  ‘Sorry.’

Steve shrugs.  ‘They removed tumors.  Hearing was gone.’

Eddie tries to think about what life might be like if he just woke up one day and lost a sense.  And okay it would be different since he was already Deaf but he still gets it.  As best as he can, anyway.

He sighs and turns, cupping Steve’s cheek.  Steve leans into the touch like he’s starved for it, and God knows Eddie is, so he’s not in a hurry to pull back.  He grazes his thumb under Steve’s eye.  ‘Sleeping better?’

Steve laughs.  Eddie has some—what the doctors call residual hearing which seems a little ridiculous since Eddie was born this way, but whatever.  It’s enough to hear—just barely—the rumble of Steve’s laugh over the faint noise of the train.  Mostly he feels it against his hand though.

‘Yeah.  Better,’ he repeats.

Eddie sighs, but before he can mourn the loss of their routine, Steve shuffles closer and lays his head down.  Eddie knows he doesn’t sleep, but this is good too.

***

For the first time in six months, Eddie doesn’t come to his ASL class.  And it’s not like Eddie’s waiting…

Which is a lie.  He’s definitely waiting.

The kids give him epic and endless shit for being distracted—to the point he gives up and lets Mike start his own campaign while he paces the room and feels all kind of itchy all over and he hates it.  He hates it so much.

The kids all go home eventually and Eddie gets on the train at three and he stares at the empty seat that Steve should be in and it feels like there’s a sudden canyon or maybe a dark hole that leads into some alternate dimension that stole these moments away from him.

His stop comes and he almost doesn’t get off until he remembers he doesn’t need to wait nine stops past, and nine stops back.  His knees are kind of shaky as he brushes past people and feels the silence kind of profoundly for the first time in maybe ever.

And then the world rearranges.

Steve’s there, leaning against the wall near the stairs with his arms crossed and a pissed off look on his face that’s both terrifying and really, really beautiful.  Eddie feels like he might choke on his own tongue as he stumbles to a halt.

‘Nine.’

Eddie stares at Steve’s hand thinking maybe he’s got the wrong sign.

Then he does it again.  ‘Nine.’

Eddie looks behind him, then at Steve again.

‘Your stop is before mine.’

Eddie flushes.  Hard.  So hard he gets a little dizzy.  ‘Yes.’

Steve swallows hard.  ‘Why?’

Eddie flops his arms and his whole body kind of moves with it, and he wants to pace and be loud with his body but they’re in public.  Like, hearing public.  Someone will definitely call the cops and tell them he’s on drugs, especially since he tends to vocalize a little loudly when he’s uncomfortable and it unsettles hearing people’s delicate little ears.

He takes a breath.  ‘You were tired.’

Steve blinks at him kind of incredulously.  ‘I was tired,’ he repeats.  His face doesn’t give Eddie any indication that it’s a question but…

Maybe it is?

‘You were tired,’ he repeats.

Steve pushes away from the wall.  Stalks a step closer.  Then suddenly his hand is on Eddie’s cheek bare and warm and soft, and he mirrors that gesture, swiping a thumb under Eddie’s eye.  ‘Where is your shoulder?’

‘My—’ Eddie starts.  Stops.  His hand hovers in the air.  His shoulder.  His own Eddie?  ‘I don’t need one.’

‘Bullshit,’ Steve shoots back at him.  It’s an older, more archaic sign he definitely got from Scott, but it hits the mark.

Eddie sighs and shrugs again.  ‘You were tired,’ he just repeats.  He needs Steve to get it.

And oh.  Maybe he does, because he’s pushing in closer again and his hand has fallen to the back of Eddie’s neck and there’s absolutely no signing space between them now.  Steve’s lips move like maybe he’s talking to himself—probably a habit he’ll never totally lose, but Eddie likes it.  He likes the way Steve’s lips dance and he wants to feel them.

And holy shit this might be his chance because…

Yeah.  Yep.

Yes.

Steve is kissing him.  It’s warm and better than he imagined, and it’s really, really scary because Eddie has never liked someone so much in his entire life and God, if he wakes up and this is a dream he’s going to fucking lose it.

But when it ends, Steve is still warm, and still perfect, and still touching him.

‘Nine stops,’ Steve manages to sign.

Eddie laughs.  ‘Eighteen, if you count the ones on the way back.’

He feels Steve’s groan as he rolls his eyes, then he grins as Steve surges back in to kiss him.

Kiss him.

Kiss him.

[maxillness]

🇫🇮 || Tell Me Your Sounds || Ferrari!KR7 x Reserve driver!Reader

Warnings: 18+, blowjob, sub!kimi, (slight) yearning, biting,

Wordcount: 1.1k

Might do a part 2, dunno

Kimi never spoke, and when he did, it was short answer, and she hated it

She wanted to have an ongoing conversation with the man, but he kept his answers short, almost like he didn’t want to speak to her

All his silent conversation got her to thinking “Do you think he’s silent in bed too?” She asked, Sebastian almost choking on his water

He looked with a confused expression at her “First of all, it would be interesting to know, but I don’t want to know. Second of all, why are you thinking about that?”

“How the fuck did that make sense what you just said?” It was now her to be confused “And… I can’t sleep at night, so I think, and sometimes it’s weird stuff” She shrugged

“You might as well just find out” He said, taking another sip of his water “I’m joking” He said, seeing her thinking face

“I know, wasn’t even thinking about it” She said, obviously lying

“If you say so”

She definitely needed to find out. One way or another

Over the next few weeks, so tried getting closer to him, tried getting to know him better

She was the one who started texting him first, until he was the one to strike conversation

He was way more wordy over text then when you spoke to him face to face

As they grew closer, her thoughts got dirtier. She could be doing anything, and she would imagine what he would sound like

Her fingers moving inside her, coming around them to the thought of his sounds

It was the race week, and she was talking with Sebastian before FP1

“You’ve gotten your answer yet?” He asked, a cheeky smile on his lips

“No” She sighed “Ask me again on Sunday” She answered, matching his smile

“You’re something of your own” He chuckled, walking away from her again

They had been talking to each other as much as they could when he wasn’t in the car, every now and then placing innocent touches on him

Qualifying rolled around, and both the drivers god an okay end. Both finishing in Q3

“Good job, man” She said, fist bumping Sebastian as he walked into the garage

“Oh, sorry, rakkaus” Kimi had accidentally bumped into her, but in all honesty, she just wanted his touch, no matter how he did it

“It’s quite alright” She smiled, turning around to face him “You did good by the way” She loved the way his eyes lit up and a slight blush crept up on his cheeks at the praise

“Thank you” His words almost got stuck in his throat as he looked down into the floor

She felt a kind of confident boost she never had experienced before, encouraging to take the shot of hearing his sounds

She took a step closer to him, and just below a whisper she said “If you ever wanna celebrate, you know where to find me”

She didn’t let him react before she walked away to talk to some of the machines and engineers

She expected him to react, but not the way he did

He had grabbed her wrist, pulling her roughly away from her conversation without as much of an apology

“Kimi-“ She didn’t get to finish her sentence before she was shoved up against the closed door of his drivers room

His lips was on hers immediately, holding a hand behind her head to not hurt her

“Kimi…” She shoved softly on his chest, pushing him away from her

“What? You said if I wanted to celebrate-“ “I know” She panted slightly looking up into her lust blown eyes

“I was just startled, that’s all” She took her hands back to his face, smashing their lips back together in a wet and sloppy kiss

His suit was already hanging on his hips, so it was easy for her to slip her hands down his torso and under his fireproofs, feeling his skin on her fingertips

They parted their lips so she could pull off his fire profs, throwing it carelessly on the floor before attaching her lips above his collarbone

He let out a whimper as she sucked softly on the skin, creating a purple bruise

She pushed on his abdomen, guiding him towards the small couch in the room. She pushed him down once the back of his legs hit it

She got on her knees in front of him, hands tapping his hips, making him buck them up so she could pull the suit down

As the suit was discarded on the floor as well, her hands went to the waist band of his boxers, pulling them down as well

He whimpered at the way her lustful eyes looked up at him. She kissed his inner thigh, forcing him to spread his legs

She scooted forwards, lips still kissing his skin. She bit softly down, pulling a whimper from him

“Please” His hands grabbed the edge of the couch beside his legs

She pulled away from his thigh. Her hands went to his hips, holding them there as her tongue drew over the tip of his cock, drawing out a high-pitched moan from him

He sounded so much prettier than she had imagined. His head threw back as his eyes closed shut as her tongue began to swirl around him

His moans were loud, not giving a shit if anyone could hear him, which they probably could

His whole body shook at her tongue drew over his slit, his moan shuttered, knuckles turning white

He bucked his hips up, wanting her to swallow him

She swirled her tongue around him twice before swallowing him whole. She gagged slightly as he hit the back of her throat

“Mm… Feels so good” She moaned as she started bobbing her head up and down his shaft, spit starting to pool in the corner of her mouth

“Fuck, just like that” The sounds that came out of him was almost embarrassing if he wasn’t fucked out

Her nails dug into the pale skin of his hips as she sped up, her tongue dragging on the sensetive skin of his vain

“Fuck- please- yes… Fuck, so close” His cock started twitching inside her mouth, leaking pre cum on to her tongue

She hummed at the taste of the salty taste, sending vibrations into his cock, sending him over the edge, shooting his cum down here throat with her name rolling off his tongue

She popped off of him, swallowing his load, feeing the sticky substance go down her throat

She stood up, knees hurting and wobbly. She leaned down to kiss him between his knitted eyebrows

“You sound so fucking pretty” She softly placed a kiss on his jaw “You should really talk some more”

“Just for you. Only you’ll hear me” He panted, coming down from his orgasm, his hands caressing the sides of her body

[osachiyo]

ʚ Morning Sweetness ɞ chuuya nakahara

➣ a/n: this was supposed to be a short drabble but I kind of got carried away.. not proof read so there might be some spelling errors. happy reading and I hope y'all enjoy 💙 (mdni)

Sunday mornings with chuuya are sweet and romantic. You woke up first today, your legs tangled with his and arms wrapped around each other. His head was on your chest, listening to your calming heartbeats as he slept like a baby. You could hear him softly snoring, some drool escaping his lips. God he was adorable. You tried to move, but he kept you in place, murmuring something ineligible in his sleep. You tried to move again, his eye peaking open to look at you sleepily, " 's too early.." You yawned, stretching your limbs before replying, "baby, it's 10 am.." He only sighed and nuzzled his face further into your bare chest, "mm.. don't wanna get up." You gasped dramatically, "you're the one who fucked the living daylights of me last night, mister! even after I passed out! and you have the audacity to compl− mmph−!" Chuuya slapped his hand on your mouth, effectively shutting you up as he glared at you with flushed cheeks, "I know what we did last night. you don't have to remind me!" He scoffed, gulping when his eyes land on the red and purple bruises on your neck and chest, even your shoulders weren't spared. He could feel his face heating up thinking about what occured between you two last night. He glanced at you and his heart immediately skipped a beat; the morning sun highlighted your features perfectly, casting an ethereal glow on you, your eyes holding so much love and adoration, a soft smile graced your lips, still swollen from last night. "you look so pretty when you smile.." He muttered under his breath, a hand cupping your cheek. His heartbeat sped up when you leaned into his touch, looking at him through your lashes, "are you saying I'm ugly whenever I don't smile?" You joked, earning a pinch on your cheek as he huffed, "dont put words in my mouth!" You rolled your eyes, playfully mocking him. "why you little−!" He growled, tackling you down and pinning you to the satin sheets, his eyes glinting with playful mischief. "haven't learned your lesson from last night?" You pouted, struggling in his hold but to no use, "hey! don't spank me again, okay?! my ass is still sore..." He laughed, kissing your cheek and smoothing the furrow between your brows with a thumb, "yeah? my baby wants to be treated like a little princess now? I can definitely manage that," he smirked, taking your lips in for a sweet kiss. You hummed, hands reaching up to play with the soft ginger hair on his nape, making him moan lowly into the kiss.

His hands travelled further, reaching up your bare sides before cupping your breasts, which were still sore and sensitive from last night's rendezvous with your beloved boyfriend. Instead of squeezing and slapping them harshly, his hands caressed them gently, smoothing over your hardened nipples and smirking when you moan into the kiss. "was I too rough last night?" He whispered against your lips, voice soft with genuine concern. Your heart fluttered, even if he fucked you like you were some cheap whore, he was still your Chuuya. The one who loved you more than he loved himself, you were the love of his life, after all. "a little.. but I liked it," you reassured, bumping your nose against his, making him laugh. "I'll make it up to you, sweet girl," he smiled, moving your hair out of the way before placing gentle kisses on your neck, kissing over every bruise and mark he left the night before.

You hummed, playing with his hair as he kissed and softly nipped at your chest, his hard-on resting against your thigh. You bounced your thigh gently, his breath hitching as you stimulate his cock. His arms were wrapped around your waist, holding you in place while he kissed every inch of your upper body, slowly making his way down to your lower region until he was face-level with your dripping cunt. "such a pretty pussy," he breathed, hot breath hitting your sensitive folds as you shivered. His tongue darted out to lick your soft mound, coating your inner lips with his saliva before laying the muscle flat against your cunt, feeling your pussy throb on his tongue. His hands gripped the meaty flesh of your thighs, gently rubbing his thumbs over the bruises left on your skin.

You softly bit your bottom lip when his lips wrapped around your clit, swirling over the sensitive pearl with his eager tongue. Your fingers were tangled in his silky ginger hair, jaw going slack as he worked you to your sweet release with his tongue, nose bumping against your clit every time he pushed his tongue into you, savouring your addicting taste on his tongue. Blue eyes observed every reaction you made from his ministrations, lewd slurping and sucking noises bouncing off the walls of your shared bedroom.

you could feel your orgasm approaching, the scorching heat in your lower tummy growing hotter, pussy finally gushing all over his face. It wasn't an overwhelming feeling like the ones you've had the night before, but still felt euphoric. He groaned, happily gulping your juices down, licking your pussy clean. He pulled away once he was satisfied, plopping next to you, chest heaving as he flashed you a cocky grin, "felt good, yeah?" You were still catching your breath, smiling at him, "so good, baby." He was about to wrap an arm around you when you got up, crawling on top of him, eye-level with his raging boner. "what're you−!" He gasped when your lips wrapped around his tip before pulling away with a 'pop!' "you do want me to return the favour, don't you, darling?"

©ambrosiaa— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, likes and reblogs are very appreciated♡

TAGS »»————> @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie

@lxverss @lynxxyyy @nanamibeloved

@sorahatsumi @himebwrries @nopethenope @neviex @fyodorisbbg @stygianoir @saharei @x-lunawrites-x @munnaitorei @emyyy007 @dearhoney-31 @the-foreigner @angoisfine @satohruu @honeycombflowers @yuiiasathesilly @kaithegremlin @poisonedslop @sukiischaotic @squigglewigglewoo @boba-is-good @cupidszvlvr @ashthemadwriter @4xxxv @bloobewy @mrs-bakugou @solandiss @ask-me-or-not @hanakotateyama @qqingque @lunaeheroine18 @kissesmellow21 @dazaichuuya69 @xxsilverjackalxx @gettinshiggywithit @leftrunawaybanana @deaths-presence @sugaredpersimmon @rjssierjrie @iheartpieck @angelof-darkness @otakudul @dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls @hellokitty-4-lele @scinclaitnoir @aly-insanity @kemis-world @bisexuawolfsalt @thateldribitch

[reidsrambles]

Part 1: New Year's Eve

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Description: My only New Year's Eve plan is to help my best friend Penelope entertain her many party guests. When I find myself alone with her coworker, Spencer (who I've had a crush on for ages), it seems that my New Year's might turn out different than I had planned.

(Content/Warnings below the cut)

Content/Warnings: [18+ MDNI] smut, protected (condom) PiV sex, oral sex (F receiving), brief mention of being drunk or high in the past

A/N: This fic is part 1 of a duo. Part 2: New Year's Day is in the works, and will hopefully be posted on time! I came up with this idea literally yesterday, and I've been writing like a madman since then, so edits might be made to this one after posting. I'm posting it right before midnight my time! Credit to @saradika-graphics for the divider graphics, including the one I cropped below.

Names used: Baby

Words (this chapter): 2,025

Words (total): 5,759

Penelope has always thrown stellar parties, but this one might be her largest to date. I can hear the music streaming from her apartment all the way down the hall. I sift through the keys on my keyring to find the one I need: my copy of her house key.

Streamers, balloons, and shimmery garlands cover the walls of Penelope’s apartment. There are somehow more guests than I’d expected. Penelope tends to make friends wherever she goes. Still, I didn’t expect for what seems to be everyone she knows to be free tonight. Many guests don party hats. Some are also wearing those silly New Year’s glasses with lenses in the shape of numbers. Not even two steps in the door, and I jump as someone prematurely blows a noisemaker.

Different dishes that partygoers have brought cover every inch of Penelope’s kitchen island. A potluck of appetizers and various salads, from the leafy green kind to the macaroni or potato variety. I squeeze around the guests loitering in her kitchen, leaning against the counter, probably because there’s nowhere to sit. Inside her fridge, it’s like playing Jenga, trying to find a spot to shove the champagne bottles I bought. 

Penelope’s dazzling emerald dress sticks out in the sea of black and metallic fits. Nobody can upstage the hostess, dare they try. I wrap my best friend in a hug from behind and she reflexively smacks my arm before realizing it’s me.

“Oh, my god!” she shrieks. She looks annoyed, rolling her eyes, but my behavior has garnered chuckles from the group she’s chatting with. Two knitting club friends. “Look who finally showed up! She conveniently had to work all day while I finished setting up.” 

I was here on Sunday doing all the decorating grunt work, but I choose to not argue the semantics. I’ll let her have the upper hand. Consider it an apology for the jump scare, Penelope.

“It’s not my fault that New Year’s Eve isn’t a holiday, and I, like most people, work a Monday-to-Friday, nine-to-five. You are aware of that, right?”

Penelope pecks my cheek before swiping at it with her thumb to wipe her bright red lipstick off. I ask her if she needs help with anything, as a good best friend to the hostess does, but predictably, she’s on top of everything. 

I make my rounds, catching up with the many people I already know and greeting those I haven’t met. “Hi! I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet! I’m Penelope’s best friend.” 

Hours pass, filled with stories of so-and-so’s new baby or graduation or other meaningful milestone. Then there are the few party games I’m roped into. On the plus side, every time I loop back around past the kitchen, I pick at the hors d'oeuvres. After work, I picked up the champagne, and then came straight here. The finger foods will suffice as dinner, I suppose.

From the spot I’ve claimed as my own against the wall, I watch my best friend, with her seemingly infinite social battery, open the door and gleefully welcome a couple I’ve never seen. How are people still showing up!? 

With a quick flick of the wrist, I glance at my watch. Still two hours to midnight. Ugh, shit.

I push myself off the wall and snake my way through the field of bodies, metaphorical white flag a-waving. 

“Pen, I know we’re getting closer to midnight, but I need to go take a nap or something. I’m absolutely drained. Just let me recharge for a few, and then I’ll be back out here. Promise.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Penelope says, guiding me a mere two feet to the side—all the crowd will allow. “I’ve seen you chatting it up all night. You know you don’t have to do that, my love. I’ve had the bedrooms locked, but Spencer was feeling a bit overwhelmed, so I let him into the guest bedroom if you want to join him in there.” She’s sincere, but teasing, gently bumping my shoulder with hers. Her innuendo is far from lost on me.

Huh, yeah. Spencer’s  the only one on her team, besides Aaron Hotchner, who I haven’t already bumped into tonight. Hotch is probably at home with the family. Where has Spencer been all night? He is usually a bit of a wallflower whenever he does show up to parties. Being friends with Penelope since childhood and moving out to D.C. with her, I’ve gotten to know everyone she’s close with, especially her coworkers. I’ve had a teensy-weensy crush on Spencer Reid since I first met him, not long after I moved out here, and Penelope’s teased me about it ever since. 

I pull my lips tight and nod. “Yeah, I think I can manage that.”

Yes, I’ve gotten to know Spencer quite a bit over the years, which has not helped ease my crush, but there’s no way he thinks of me as anything more than a friend. He probably just thinks of me as a friend-of-a-friend or as an acquaintance. Even worse… 

It’s kind of become a cycle. I start seeing someone or get into a whole relationship, and then I don’t have to think about Spencer at all, which is great. But, when I inevitably become single again and Penelope mentions his name, the longing starts all over again.

It’s just a crush, though. Everyone has crushes. And most people don’t act on these types of crushes. Why would I put Penelope in the middle of that?

The hall where Penelope’s bedroom, the guest bedroom, and a bathroom are is already much quieter than the rest of her house. All the noise is coming from behind me. The quiet is calling to me like a siren’s song; hopefully just luring me into a 20-minute catnap, if I’m lucky.

I gently tap my knuckles against the guest bedroom door twice before opening it. Only the nightstand lamps are on, and this cozy, warm room feels like escaping to actual Heaven right now. Spencer is sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap.

“Hey, mind if I join you?” I ask, my heart rate ramping up instead of slowing down. 

“[Y/N], hey! Of course. Did Penelope tell you I was hiding away in here?”

I close the door behind me, and the roar of the party dies down to a rumble. “Well, I told her that I needed to get away from the crowd for a little bit, maybe take a nap or something, and she said she had just let you in here. My social battery died like, an hour ago.”

I join Spencer on the edge of the bed, keeping a respectable amount of distance. 

“I’m not much of a party person if you haven’t already figured that out,” he says.

“I don’t think I am either, honestly. Well, not anymore, at least. I was a little bit of a partier when I went off to college. But as I’m sure you could guess, me and Penelope weren’t really a part of the ‘in’ crowd as teenagers.”

“Is college the only time you and Penelope weren’t attached at the hip?”

“Yeah,” I laugh. “Basically. Right before I sent off my college applications, we had gotten into a fight over something stupid. It was so stupid, that neither of us can remember what it was over. But, instead of applying to CalTech with her, I applied to a couple schools I knew she wasn’t applying to. I ended up getting accepted to Georgia Tech. Literally, the other side of the country. I think that I had it in my head that I was going to show her that she’d miss me.”

“And then you guys made up?”

“We literally made up two days after I sent off my applications, yeah,” I nod, my story earning a laugh from Spencer.

“I can’t believe I haven’t heard that story before.”

Another rogue noisemaker is sounded, muffled by the wall between us and the chaos, but it’s enough of a surprise to startle both of us.

“Sorry,” he says, “I should’ve asked. Did you want the room to yourself? I don’t mind if you need me to step out.”

“Oh, no. I’m completely fine. If I wanted to be alone, I could’ve just gone to Penelope’s room. It’s not like you’re a stranger or anything. As long as you don’t mind if I accidentally pass out.”

I sit up and round the bed to the far side, and when I slip under the sheets, I regret my choice of a black skirt and tights for tonight. Spencer sits on top of the sheets on the other side.

“I really wish I hadn’t left my book out in the living room,” he jokes. 

“So, you’re saying I don’t get a bedtime story?”

I try, as discreetly as I can, to slip my tights off under the sheets. Every time I adjust my position, I tug them down a little bit more.

“If you want me to read to you, I can,” he says.

Got ‘em down to my knees.

“I forgot about that whole memory thing,” I laugh. “What’s that called, again?”

“I have an eidetic memory. It’s primarily for things I’ve read, though.”

So close.

“I mean, you definitely don’t have to, but if wanted to read me something, it would be really helpful to mask the noise.”

Yes! Finally. I’m freeee.

I kick my tights off my feet under the covers (a problem for me to deal with later, when I’m more awake) and I can breathe a sigh of comfort at last.

Spencer begins to speak, but I cut him off.

“Sorry. Just don’t let me sleep more than 20 minutes. I’m aiming for 15, even. I should be out like a light. I’m a good napper. Gold-medal worthy.”

I flop back down onto the bed and let my heavy eyelids fall shut. Spencer reads some story aloud with no text in front of him. As I drift off, his voice lulling me to sleep, I know this is going to be something that I playback from memory in the future. A decayed version in my own, fallible memory.

The world is dark, but noisy. I haven’t yet gathered the strength to open my eyes, but the rest of my senses are slowly feeding my brain information. I feel a steady rise and fall against my back. Breathing. A man’s face nuzzled into my neck. I’m being spooned from behind, but he isn’t under the covers with me. He’s above them. Even through the fabric, I can feel him against my ass. The hardness between his legs pressed into my backside. Where the hell am I?

It’s New Year’s Eve. Penelope’s guest bedroom. Spencer.

Spencer’s breathing picks up, and as my eyes flit open, I’m ripped from my sleepy bliss and plunged into utter panic. He’s woken up too. Spencer jumps out of bed at the same time I do, clearly stunned.

“[Y/N], I am so, so sorry. I completely didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Shit. No, I’m sorry.”

Does he know I have a crush on him? Is he going to think I planned that? In my barely-awake daze, I jump to the worst-case scenario. 

Spencer just keeps rambling apologies and swearing up and down that he fell asleep by mistake. My disorganized words of reassurance don’t seem to be cutting through. 

“10... 9…” 

The chanting from outside our bubble only takes a moment for me to register. It’s already midnight?

“8…7…” 

Spencer still hasn’t shut up. Before I can fully realize what I’m doing, I round the bed to where he’s standing. He stops mid-sentence.

“6…5…4…” 

He hears it. He realizes. Our faces are so close; mine, angled up to his. Was I going to say something to calm him down? I don’t remember anymore. His eyes are darting across my face, mirroring my gaze. Eyes, lips. Eyes, lips. 

“3…2…1…”

Our lips crash together right as a chorus of Happy New Years and noise-makers chimes.

Spencer Reid’s lips. On mine. 

Next Chapter: New Year's Day

AO3 | Tumblr | Masterlist

[gallaghersgal]

Hi there! How are we doing on this fine sunday? I spent the day at the beach and of course, that gave me some ideas so ahem ahem ✨beach day with carmy bear✨

First let’s talk about the most obvious thing ever but…this man looks HAWT okay?!!? He already does on a daily basis, doing the most regular things ever but at the beach????? 74 dead, 192 injured.

anyway yeah he looks really good but also:

You manage to whisk him away for a few days, just the two of you to relax and you rent a small house by the beach. Your goal is basically to get him to slow down a bit, catch up on some sleep and have fun, you know?That in itself is tough because he!!cannot!!relax!!!!!!!!! But he’s also very very in love so he agrees for a weekend away.

He carries all the bags because he was raised a gentleman and there’s no way you lift one pretty finger of yours k?

You insist on putting sunscreen on his back and face and okay maybe it’s just an excuse to give him a nice massage and maybe he knows that but plays along too

But he’s just as protective, always making sure you’re hydrated and you’re wearing your hat if you’re seating in the sun.

i might be almost 21 but playing in the waves!!!!!! and making sand castles!!!!! at first he might think it’s a little silly but not in a mean way, just the kind of thing he doesn’t think of to have fun because he just doesn’t have fun yk? but he helps you and realizes it is actually fun. it definitely turns into a competition btw and you end up both winning and eating ice cream as a reward.

Playing cards too!! i feel like he knows one or two great cars games that he’d teach you, something he got from Mickey or Cousin maybe?

also napping on the beach. he lays his head on your belly while you read and you’re playing with his hair and the weather is nice and it’s actually pretty good to feel the sun on his skin and—when you notice he’s sleeping, you don’t move, just let him take whatever he needs.

you 100% make sure to take a billion pictures of him, of the two of you (you send one of him sleeping to nat <3) and he tries to take aesthetic pictures of you, he snaps a few more just to keep for himself.

a lot of talking too!!! he’s been working a lot, you too, life got in the way so you take the time to catch up—you tell him about the new show you want to start with him, he tells you about a flea market he’d like to check out. It feels nice to catch up and somehow it reassures him? Like his anxiety gets too much and he’s scared you might be unhappy but then you talk and you tell him you love him and you want to do things with him and his chest feels less heavy.

who says day at the beach, says watching the sunset together. of course it’s beautiful but carmy keeps looking at you and the way the light seems to hit your features so perfectly well because he’s a sap.

You get a little cold and he’s instantly handing you his sweater. And I just know his heart melts when you nuzzle closer to him <3

I love to think he’d stay up at night to listen to the ocean. He can’t sleep because his mind is too loud so he goes on the little patio and listens to the sounds of the waves on the shore. Maybe you join him, rest your head on his shoulder and enjoy the moment with him. he hasn’t felt this happy in a long time.

-🧸

hey so something you don't know about me is that i love the beach more than literally any other place on earth!!!!! i went to the OBX a lot as a kid and it shaped me into the woman i am today!!!!! i love the beach!!!!!!!!!!!! i even had a finnpoe beach au that was like. god. it was at minimum 10k words and it wasn't even complete yet. i would just work on it when at the beach house my father took me to cause there was no wifi there- but enough ab me!!!!!

i agree that baby boy canNOT relax, poor thing. but you could talk him into it saying he can try all kinds of new restaurants and get some ideas for a seafood course for the bear menu <33 and ughhh i just. staying in a cutie little beach house with him!!! i used to go to the beach every year and when i got old enough to really appreciate the whole day, my fav thing became evening walks and i know those would sooth his soul sooo much

"there’s no way you lift one pretty finger of yours k?" i will sob??? i will actually cry and scream and roll around on the floor???? god i just. carmen carrying your bags upstairs to the house while you take stock of all the general beach things available in the shed underneath. yall know how beach houses are on stilts? yeah like that. and placing your shampoo and body wash and things in the outdoor shower so it can be used first thing, because once everything is unloaded all you wanna do is walk down to the ocean and once you're there, well, who isn't gonna jump in!

massaging the sunscreen into his back, the way he would sigh a little, and you can press soft kisses to his cheek as you do so. ugh i looveeeee him!!!! he would be so so protective, making sure there's plenty of snacks, and if you're hungry he'll walk the beach with you until you find a little sandwich shop or taco place for whatever you wanna eat. he's confused at first why you're making a sand castle, preferring to sit and read his book, but suddenly he's finished with a chapter and spending time with his girl seems so much more fun, so before he knows it he's packing wet sand into the mould sitting across from you, sandy shins and messy hair, but he's all smiley too

the poor thing would get so exhausted from playing in the waves, probably bc he's not used to it. swimming in the ocean really takes it out of you!! so when you're laid out under the umbrella reading he grumbles like "babe, lemme... c'mere," and tugs you just a little closer to rest his head on your tummy :((( playing with his curls while they dry from the salt water, forming them into perfect little spirals, putting a little braid here and there

just talking to each other and catching up in such a relaxed setting is so sweet im gonna sob. maybe y'all snagged a beachfront place so you can watch the sun set over the water ((i have never seen this... #eastcoast)) while you're sitting on the rlly comfy deck chairs, he's got a beer and you've got a little cocktail he made you, and you're playing cards and chatting about what's been going on lately. just sitting out there together listening to the waves, wrapped up in his sweater from his culinary school i- i genuinely cannot. i love him and i love the beach. I LOVE HIM AND I LOVE THE BEACH!!!!!!!

tldr; me and 🧸 love the beach and carmy so much

[sunlightmurdock]

The Parent Trap | 0.1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Ex-Wife!Reader

♡ Prologue | Next Chapter | Masterlist

♡ In which, after a couple of years of listening to Peyton and Parker Bradshaw complain about their parents’ custody agreement, Grandpa Mav’s meddling goes a little bit too far.

♡ warnings: mentions of divorce throughout the fic, flashbacks to arguments and unhappily married people. Idiots who still love each other and don’t know it. (warnings will be added as story progresses).

…

“Alright! They’re here.” Maverick drops the curtain back into place and turns back towards his granddaughters. “Be cool.”

Peyton looks up, scrunches her nose just a fraction — she takes a moment to analyse what this might entail. Maverick sits back against the couch and opens his book up, picking a random page a couple of chapters in, settling into his position. Parker settles in equally easily, she drops down so that she’s sitting cross-crossed and immediately gets to work penciling in answers on her worksheet. Peyton inhales, then almost forgets to exhale, her mind racing as the sound of footsteps on the porch ring out over the top of Maverick’s soft soul album playing.

Finally, she drops down next to her sister and grabs a pencil.

“It’s been forever since I’ve seen Mav,” You muse, breathing out softly as you follow Bradley up onto the porch. It’s been forever since you’ve even been here, you’ve only seen Maverick a handful of times since you divorced Rooster. He was always kind to you. “He might not even recognise me.” You joke.

Rooster almost scoffs. Recognise you? — He hardly ever shuts up about you. It’s a good thing, probably, that his friends and family are so fond of you. It means he picked a good person to share his life with. It just makes things even more difficult now that the two of you have decided to go your own ways.

“He’s not that old.” Rooster settles with instead, keeping things lighthearted as he turns the door handle and opens the front door. He steps in first and holds the door open behind him for you. Taking a few steps forwards, he has a good view into the living room on the left.

The girls are both sitting on the floor, working on some school work together. Peyton’s helping her sister with math. Maverick is reading a fictional romance novel. One of Penny’s. Peyton is way worse than Parker at math. Damn it.

Maverick glances up from his book and even through the suddenly blurred lenses of his reading glasses, he can see the disappointment on Rooster’s face. Busted. But, as far as Rooster knows, this just means that the three of them spent the afternoon having fun and watching TV. Which isn’t entirely incorrect.

“Hi, Mav.” You step around Rooster sheepishly and lift your hand, waving it at him. Rooster looks you up and down, brows scrunching slightly. This is the man who drove you to the hospital when you were in labour and Rooster was an hour away in traffic. The same one who held you whilst you sobbed at the thought of not being a good enough mother and told you it was all going to be okay. The first person that the two of you told you were expecting.

And here you are, acting like he has become a stranger.

There are lots of aspects of divorce that hurt more than Rooster was expecting them to. Those hour long gaps in his Sundays now that he doesn’t have to go and put gas in your car. Getting home from work on a night that the girls are with you and his home being empty.

Now, Rooster doesn’t have much of a family. It was just Mav for a little while, and then Penny and Amelia came along. But, then he had you — and the girls, and you were all a big family. Now, Maverick is someone that you can only awkwardly say hello to. No longer family.

“Hey, honey! How’ve you been?” The book is discarded and Maverick is pushing himself up off of the couch, arms opened and walking towards you. Your body unstiffens, exhaling quickly as you let him envelope you in a hug. It takes everything in you not to rush out a pained ‘oh my god, I thought you hated me’.

Your mind jumbles, searching for the right words as Maverick squeezes you. He’s greyer than the last time you saw him, he still smells like the same cologne he wore when you met him. That means Penny’s still unsuccessful in making him stop buying the same pine scented spray that he wore in the eighties.

“Good! I’m — busy, but I’m good.” You manage out. He pulls back to look at you, catching your arms like you’ll disappear again if he doesn’t ground you right here with him. He looks over your face fondly. Both of you a little bit older, probably none the wiser.

Pete grins and nods his head. “I’m glad, I’m so glad.”

Rooster looks between the two of you, then back at the kids looking up at them curiously. As he glances back to Maverick, he knows that it’s only a matter of time before the old man starts spouting off some crap about how the two of you would probably be happier together.

“Mav, could we have a second alone with the kids? — We still have to get them home before their bedtime and stuff.” Rooster reminds his uncle gentle. Maverick jumps to his senses and pulls back nodding.

“Oh, right. Of course. I’ll — I’m going to go and start making dinner for Penny. I’ll be in the kitchen.” As he turns, his back to the two of you, his eyes on the kids, Maverick gives them an overzealous wink. It’s up to them from here on out. Then, he leaves and heads for the kitchen, shutting the door behind him.

Bradley moves first. He walks calmly into the living room and sits down in front of the two of them. You follow suit. There’s a beat of silence, the four of you looking at each other.

Finally, you’re the first to speak. “First, your dad and I just wanted to say that we’re glad you two can talk to each other, and that you wanted to help out your sister. But you know that this was completely the wrong way to go about it. Right?”

“We know…” Peyton agrees dejectedly, guilt in her tone and her body language as she twirls her pencil between her fingers.

You do your best not to make it a lecture, knowing that they’ll just zone out if you drone on at them too much. They’re still little and long lectures can be draining on their developing minds. You do your best to engage, asking them questions, keeping them involved.

It’s clear that they know what they did was wrong. You’ve got a sneaking feeling that this probably won’t be the last time they do something like it, but for now it’s resolved either way.

They’re going to write an apology to their teachers for switching classes again. You and Rooster had been texting about this all afternoon, you’ve considered making them write an apology to William — but he’s kind of a little asshole and his mother is even worse.

You check your watch and it’s already a little after seven. Their bedtime is eight. Luckily, Mav gave them dinner, so all you have to do is get them home and into bed. Then, you can get started with the mountain of work that you have left to do tonight.

“Alright, go say goodnight to Grandpa Mav, we should get going.”

“Can I drive home with Dad?” Parker asks suddenly. A quick glance towards your ex-husband, clearly tired after the day, relaxed back against the couch. He moved a while ago, complaining that sitting on the floor was hurting his back. You shake your head quickly.

“No, not today. It’s out of his way, and you two need to get to bed soon.”

“I just wanted to talk to him about the stuff with Billy,” She turns those big brown eyes towards Rooster and looks up at him, guilt filled and sorrowful. “I feel bad for not telling you about it. Can we talk?”

You open your mouth to correct her. Rooster, already suckered, sits forwards and nods his head. “Yeah, Peanut. We can talk about it.”

“You don’t have to, I mean, it’s—“

“It’s alright, I can take them back with me and we’ll just meet you at your place.” Rooster decides, running his fingers through his auburn hair and sitting up, readying to stand.

For the millionth time that day, your children catch you off guard. Peyton looks up, scowling, completely serious as she shouts, “No, I want to go with Mom!”

Rooster glances across at you, then back at her. Ultimately, he shrugs — it has been a long day and the twins’ favourite parent switches up routinely, he has learned to just take it in his stride. “Alright, so we’ll take one each. Just me and you, Parks.”

You’re more skeptical of this behavior, and your daughters recognise it immediately. You squint as you look between the two of them, and their sweet little faces. They’re probably up to something, but like their dad, you’re exhausted and don’t have time to investigate.

“Okay. One each.” You agree with a tired shrug, pushing yourself up from the floor. The girls rush off to say their goodbyes to Maverick, Bradley thanks him for watching them, then you’re all bundling out to the cars. You pause at the realization that Rooster has his bronco.

He catches your scowl as you pass him one of the booster seats. “She’ll be fine, I’ll drive slow.”

“I can take her, it’s not a problem.” You shake your head at the thought of her climbing up into that almost fifty year old, mostly metal, box. Rooster has always defended that truck to you, insisting that it’s safe. Still, you had made him buy something safer for when he has the kids. Their booster seats are still in the backseat of the fourth gen dodge Ram on his driveway, he never takes them in this.

“I’m going with Dad.” Parker insists. You both turn, looking up to find her already climbing on the side of the truck, having lifted herself up onto the step, now struggling to get the door open.

“We’ll see you at your place.” Rooster nods. With that, he turns away from you and wraps and arm around Parker’s middle, scooping her off of the side of his truck and opening the door with her under one arm.

You swallow softly and slide into the driver’s side of your car. Before you’ve even turned the key in the ignition, Peyton pipes up from behind you. “Was it weird being at Grandpa Mav’s house? — Did you guys used to be friends?”

“Alright, you buckled in?” Rooster looks up and checks his rear view mirror, finding his daughter’s smiling face looking back at him. He misses seeing those faces every day. She nods calmly and tugs at the seatbelt to prove it. Rooster nods, turning the radio down a little so that he’ll be able to hear her. The soft top cover will help, since the wind won’t be in their ears.

“Did you see that Mommy got her hair cut? — I like it like that, it’s pretty.” Parker comments, dragging her backpack across the seat towards her and starting to rifle through it as Bradley pulls away from the curb. He glances up at her through the mirror, brows scrunching just slightly, lips quirked.

“I thought we were going to talk about this Billy kid.” He reminds her.

“We are,” She shrugs her shoulders and pulls her notebook from the backpack, along with a blue pencil. “I’m just saying, Mommy looked really pretty today, don’t you think?”

“Your Mom always looks pretty. Just like you, Peanut.” At first glance, it’s a nice thing to say. But, it’s what he always says. With the two of them sharing so many of your features, he’d never dream of saying anything bad about the way you look. Not that he has anything bad to say anyway. Still, Parker is looking for something a little better than that.

She stares at him, squinting for a moment, then persists. “Yeah. But don’t you think she looks especially pretty now?”

Rooster glances up again, lips quirking more, brows scrunching in amused confusion at the serious expression on her face. “Yeah, I guess. — What’s this about?”

“I’m just asking. Don’t you think about Mom when you aren’t with her?” Parker frowns, folding her arms over her chest. Rooster pulls to a stop at a red light and looks back at his daughter, baffled. He always knew that getting a divorce was going to bring up some questions from the kids, he just wasn’t expecting this level of interrogation today.

He gives a small shrug. “Yeah, I think about you guys all the time. Y’know, how you’re doing, if you’re safe—“

“No, not us. Mommy.” Parker interrupts. Rooster glances back again, finding her staring back at him with her pencil resting on the page, her expression impatient. He pulls away from the now green light and shifts in his seat, completely confused.

“Um… yeah, I guess I think about her when we aren’t together. Parks, where’s all this coming from?” He frowns.

“Nowhere. So, anyway… Billy.” She tosses the notebook to the side and rests her hands in her lap.

Peyton twirls a curl around her finger, bopping her head to the lyrics of a song from the noughties. “I just think it’s cool that Daddy gets to fly planes. Did you think it was cool when you met him?”

When you met Rooster, you were still a bartender, working part time in a local boutique. You worked for Penny back then. You were somewhat young, especially impressionable — and he was perfect. Tanned skin, sunglasses and sea-salt tangled curls, asking you how your weekend was going every week.

Listening to your stories, asking you out, telling you about his adventures. It was all so quick in the beginning and yes, he was so cool.

“He was alright.” You answer back, glancing up into the rear view mirror with a soft smile toying at your lips. Peyton grins, she knows what that means.

She’s heard this story a million times and yet she asks again, “What was your first date like?”

Things with Rooster had never been exactly traditional. You’d already slept with him a couple of times before he finally murmured into your skin that he wanted to take you out for real, that he needed to know more about you.

But, that aspect obviously remains between just you and Rooster. You tell your kids about the date by the beach, him trying to impress you with somewhat of a picnic. Pushing him over in the water, him carrying you back to the car when you cut your foot on a rock by the shore.

He was so attentive in the beginning.

By the time you’re pulling onto the driveway, you check the rear view mirror and Peyton’s got her head leaned against the car door, lips parted, dead asleep. You smile softly, shaking your head as you unbuckle yourself and let yourself out.

Rooster pulls up as you close the door behind you. He turns off the ignition and hops down from the truck, standing under the glow of a streetlight.

“Parker’s asleep, I’ll carry her in.” He calls to you, already walking around to grab her door. You shake your head fondly as you turn back towards your car.

“Peyton too.” You chuckle.

Rooster unbuckles his daughter and lifts her into one of his arms, grabbing her backpack from the backseat with the other. He tucks her in against his side, her head lulling onto his shoulder, not stirring from her sleep in the slightest.

You groan as you hoist Peyton up onto your hip, struggling to balance her and shut the car door at the same time. It tugs at your heart strings as you realise out loud, “They’re going to be too big for us to do this soon.”

Rooster chuckles and steps around you to shut the car door for you. He makes it look so easy. “No, they’re going to be too big for you to do this soon. I’ve got a couple more years.”

You hug her closer to you, struggling to keep her tight against you, wondering when she got so big as you fumble for your keys in the tight back pocket of your shorts.

“I’ve got it.” Nudging your wrist out of the way, Rooster dips his hand into your back pocket and takes the keys. It’s a quick interaction, probably not him trying to cop a feel — it’s too fleeting for that, but it leaves you stunned nonetheless. He works the door open and glances back to check that you’re coming, still balancing your daughter with ease as he sets the keys on the end table inside.

Realising quickly that you must look like an idiot just standing there and staring at him, your feet carry you forwards and you kick the door shut behind you. He carries Parker up the stairs ahead of you. It hasn’t been that long since he lived here, it looks kind of different — the pictures on the stairway wall are different, but not unfamiliar.

He rounds the corner and pushes the door to their room open. Now, this is different. White walls dotted with little painted blue flowers, big-girl beds. Long gone is the nursery and toddler furniture that the two of you had filled this room with. It makes sense, their room at his place isn’t that different from this one, but still, he wonders why you didn’t ask him to help.

He sets Parker down on the bed closest to the door, slipping her shoes off of her feet and dropping them down to the floor beside her bedside table. The room would be bigger if they had bunk beds, but after last summer’s top bunk fight, you had forever abandoned that idea.

“I’ll go switch the car seats back over, if you wanna get them ready for bed.” Rooster says gently as you walk past him to set Peyton down in her own bed. You lift your head and nod gratefully at him across the dark room. Leaning forwards, you flick the switch for Peyton’s nightlight, it’s soft white glow illuminating the room enough for you to see the smile on his face.

“Thanks. Could you come back in afterwards? — I wanted to talk to you about something.” You’re busy unlacing Peyton’s tennis shoe and so you don’t notice the elated smile that’s on her face as she feigns unconsciousness. Rooster nods calmly.

“Sure. I’ll wait downstairs.”

Getting them both into their pyjamas, tucking them safely under their covers and slipping their respective stuffed animals in with them, kissing them both goodnight, it’s all part of the usual routine. Rooster’s leaning against the kitchen counter when you return back downstairs, arms folded over his chest as he frowns at the sink.

Slowly, you come to a stop a little bit away from him, unsure of how to say what comes next. You inhale, fiddling with your hands in front of you. He isn’t even looking at you, it’s like he knows already.

“Does it always drip like that?” He asks, pushing himself up and crossing the room to inspect the faucet. Your lips part, brows furrowing slightly. You hadn’t even noticed. He cranes his neck to get a better look. “You should’ve said, I can fix it this weekend or something, if you’re around.”

“Um… I actually wanted to see if you were free this weekend.” You explain calmly. Parker’s mouth gapes open as she and her sister huddle together at the bottom of the stairs, trying to listen to the soft conversation happening a room away. Rooster glances at you over his shoulder, just as taken back by the idea as his kids are. “There’s someone that I want you to meet.”

Rooster turns around to face you, leaning back against the counter and resting his hands on the wooden countertop. “Me? — Who would you want - Oh. You’re seeing someone?”

Realisation covers his face; it’s neither a good or bad reaction, and after years of knowing him as intimately as you do - did - you wish you could tell. You try to act as natural as he does about it.

“Well, I’ve been on a few dates with someone,” You explain gently. It’s a sensitive topic, telling your ex that you’re trying to move on. You’re not naive, you know that Rooster has hooked up with people since the divorce, you have too. But it’s different now, it’s bigger. “I really like him, and I’m thinking of introducing him to the girls. But I want you to meet him first.”

Parker slaps a hand over her sister’s mouth to contain the gasp, both of them ducking behind the railing by the stairs, like they won’t be seen through the gaps. They exchange looks, a thousand thoughts at once, plans being drawn up internally already.

It’s quiet in the kitchen, bar the sound of the faucet dripping behind him. His eyes, a dark hickory, search over your features. It’s unclear exactly what answer he’s searching for in your expression, but it doesn’t take him long to find it.

“Alright,” He nods his head. He signed those divorce papers just like you did. He was there for the custody hearing, the division of assets, explaining it to the kids. Rooster’s been present and aware of what this divorce means every step of the way. It’s been two years of pretty much radio silence. Neither one of you have exactly hidden the little flings you’ve had in the meantime, but you’ve kept that from the kids and you haven’t made a point of telling each other either.

Rooster’s trusted your judgment for as long as he has known you. If you think you’ve found someone worth introducing to the kids, then he should be happy. It wouldn’t be fair to hold you back.

He gives another curt nod, “That’s… it’s great. Congratulations.”

Your racing heart settles just slightly at his approval. Its pace slows but the pounding remains the same as you slowly raise your eyebrows at him. “So, this weekend?”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m free.” He agrees, nodding his head slowly. He taps his fingers on the countertops and glances around the home that the two of you had bought together just under a decade ago, silently wondering if your new boyfriend has been over.

It’s nothing to be upset about, the divorce was for the best, you both agreed that there shouldn’t be any hard feelings about it — these things happen. But, still.

“So, what’s he like?”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you shift on your feet. “Um… well, he’s a carpenter, and he owns a DIY place down the street from my store. His name’s Chris, he’s about our age. He’s nice, I think you two would get along.”

Not a convict, not too old or too young for you, owns his own business. Rooster can’t find much to complain about. Peyton’s brows furrow as she waits for her dad to fix this, to tell you to stop seeing that guy and be with him instead. Rooster’s face softens as he nods his head again.

“He sounds great,” He decides finally, his voice gentle as he takes a step towards you and opens his arms. “I’m really happy for you.”

You exhale deeply, relieved as he wraps you in a loose hug, every fibre of the interaction platonic. Just as quickly as you’re tucked in his strong, warm arms, he lets you go again.

“Text me a time and a place, the three of us can do something this weekend,” Rooster brushes some loose curls back off of his forehead and squeezes your arm as he steps past. Parker sighs, leaning her head back, crushed. He’s doing it all wrong. “And… um, thanks for keeping me in the loop about all this. I really appreciate it.”

Your lips quirk up into a soft smile as you nod at him. His footsteps grow closer, reminding the girls that they’re supposed to be in bed. It’s a quiet scramble, trying not to trip over each other as they race back to their bedroom.

…

@fadingbelieverexpert @jessirosebud @cowboybarbie @pinkpantheris @thedroneranger @a-serene-place-to-be @xoxabs88xox @unordinare

[vivi-in-the-sky-with-diamonds]

just some random paul fluff..? just get creative with it- what ever comes to mind..! please and thank you in advance ⭐️

Hello! I will admit, I've never been told to get creative before so I stewed on this one for a while. But, after thinking, I realized there are two things I think of when I think of fluff: pregnancy fics and love confessions. I know some people are a bit dodgy about pregnancy or it can be triggering, so I decided to write a love confession. Hope this is okay! Proofed in UK English (idk why I always mention that, I always proof in UK English lol). Enjoy!

P.S. I Love You

(Source)

You and Paul had been pining over each other for God knows how long at this point. You knew you liked him. He knew he liked you. But you were both oblivious to the others feelings.

Every time he looked at you, you felt your stomach do flips, but in your mind, he only thought of you as a friend.

Gazing into your eyes, Paul couldn’t help but notice how his heart always made an attempt to escape his chest. The Beatles are supposed to be officially unattached. You stop that, he always told himself.

Everyone around you was impatiently waiting for one of you to finally confess. John was about to take it upon himself when he noticed Paul writing a letter one day.

At seeing the words, “Dear Y/N”, John grinned before swiftly walking away.

Paul penned about twenty-seven letters to you, each one failing to meet his approval before he crumpled it and threw it in the bin.

You’re sitting on your sofa one Sunday when a letter comes through the letter box. At the sight, you quirk an eyebrow.

“The post doesn’t come on Sunday,” you mumble to yourself before retrieving the letter. It only has your name and address, with no return address or any indication of who sent it.

“Dear Y/N,” it reads, “As I write this letter, the sun is shining through my window, bathing my room in golden sunlight. I know you find that kind of stuff poetic, so I wanted to tell you. I was thinking of you and immediately wanted to share a secret with you. I’m in love with you! Please meet me at St. John’s Gardens straightaway, so I may finally tell you in person. Love, your secret admirer. P.S. I love you.”

You read the letter three times, looking for anything to identify the mysterious author, before grabbing your coat and heading out.

The Gardens are quiet; most people are spending their Sunday either in church or with their families.

As you look around, you see him from the corner of your eye: Paul, sitting on a bench, looking as if he might pass out from fright at any moment.

It’s just coincidence, you tell yourself before Paul spots you.

“Y/N!” he shouts before running up to you.

“Paul!” you greet. “Are you meeting someone here too?”

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “You could say that. I left a love letter for a bird earlier and I’m waitin’ for her here.”

“That’s funny. I received a letter earlier from a secret admirer telling me to meet them here.”

Paul watches with a cheeky grin as you realize what had happened.

“You?”

Paul nods. “I thought I’d never be able to tell ye, but I couldn't hold it in any longer. I love you, Y/N. You have no idea what you do to me just by bein’ you.” He takes your hand and rests it on his chest; you can feel how nervous he must be in the way his heart races against your palm.

You blush with a smile before looking down, unable to speak.

“Y/N, please say something,” Paul worries after a moment.

You kiss him gently. “I love you too, Paul.”

[enquiringangel]

Bad Influence

A silly fic inspired by a chat in the notes from a post from @themarginalthinker . The Boys have potty mouths; Laddie picks up on this. Also on AO3

-x-

Paul was the best at scoring the good shit, so the rest of them parked up outside the arcade while he ventured inside to see what was on offer. Dwayne could see him from here chatting to a boy waiting in line for a turn at Pac-Man, an arm around his shoulders.

The rest of them had parked up outside while they waited for him, Marko chewing at a loose thread on one of his gloves as he watched Paul cozy up to the dealer. David and Star were sharing a cigarette, David taking a pull and then holding it up to her lips. Dwayne drummed his fingers on the handlebars of his bike, watching Laddie play pinball.

The pinball machine was sci-fi themed, with green bulb-headed aliens and little disc-shaped spaceships that lit up and chimed and made pew pew noises every time the ball bounced off one of them. Green lights flashed frantically as Laddie mashed at the buttons, but as the ball fell between the flippers, the aliens’ eyes blared red and the machine made a flatulent blat of disappointment.

Laddie scowled at the machine and slapped the console in disappointment. “Fuck,” he said in his childish voice.

At first Dwayne thought that his enhanced hearing had failed him, but the sound of chuckling erupting from behind him and Star’s sharp exclamation of, “Laddie!” put paid to that.

The little guy looked over at Star innocently. “What?”

“You mustn’t say that,” Star scolded him.

“Why not?” Laddie protested. “You guys say it all the time.” A smile tugged at his mouth, a haven’t-I-been-naughty-and-isn’t-it-fun kind of look. His face had lit up at his older brothers’ obvious amusement.

“You’re nine years old,” she said, glaring disapprovingly at the boys for encouraging him. Marko screwed up his face in an exaggerated impression of her scowl, which made David let out an honest to god snort. “Swearing is a sign of a limited vocabulary,” she added, turning away from her companion huffily.

“I’ll have you know my vocabulary is extensive,” Marko protested. “I can call someone a cunt in five languages.”

Laddie immediately perked up. “What’s a—”

“It’s a word Marko will keep out of his goddamn mouth if he doesn’t want me to ram a bar of soap down his throat hard enough for it to shoot out of his ass,” Dwayne declared, eyeing the other boy with a forbidding expression. Age made vampires stronger, but the gap had to be a century or two before it started to matter. Marko might be older, but he could and would end him if he didn’t buck his ideas up, and he had no issue with broadcasting this thought into the other vampire’s mind.

“Whoa, chill.” Marko held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender, no longer laughing.

“Star’s right little man,” Dwayne said now, looking at Laddie seriously. “You shouldn’t be swearing. You have to be at least twelve before you can say words like that,” he added, missing the way Star’s approving look at his support melted into an expression of exasperation.

Laddie scuffed the toe of his shoe against the ground, face sulky. “Sorry.”

“It’s cool,” Dwayne said immediately. “And it’s our fault anyway. We’ve all got to cut back on the cursing.” Laddie was just a kid, and way too impressionable. They were meant to be taking care of him, not messing him up.

“Yup and while we’re at it we’re all going to church this Sunday,” David snarked. “I better dig out a suit.”

Dwayne ignored the remark. “Every time someone swears around Laddie it’s ten bucks in the swear jar.”

“The swear jar? For fuck’s sake, Dwayne—”

Wordlessly, Dwayne turned to face his leader and held out his palm. For a moment the two of them stared one another down, thoughts streaming between their minds. Dwayne’s were heavy with memories of another little boy he’d been responsible for, a little boy who was buried in another state in an unmarked grave. He didn’t mean to be maudlin, but it had the desired effect.

David sighed quietly and dug into his pocket for a roll of bank notes, peeling off a ten and slapping it down into Dwayne’s palm.

Dwayne tucked it away in his jacket, satisfied.

At that moment, Paul came back out of the arcade with a grin on his face. “We got some molly bitches. Let’s get shitfaced tonight motherfuckers!”

Marko clicked his tongue. “Such foul language, Paul. You should be ashamed.”

“Extremely ashamed,” David said, shaking his head. “Give Dwayne thirty bucks right now.”

“What the fuck for?”

“Forty bucks. For the swear jar.”

“Swear jar?” Paul echoed, looking at them both in obvious bafflement. “What fucking swear jar?”

“Fifty,” Star counted, resting her chin on David’s shoulder, arms loosely encircling his middle.

“We’re setting a good example,” Dwayne explained, nodding his head towards Laddie. “Now.” He held out his hand.

“Pay up.”

[bookish-bi-mormon]

There's a Mormon church across the road from my house and I've been curious about attending for years but I'm also an incredibly anxious queer bean. Any advice?

Hi! I appreciate you trusting me with this question and I wish I could give you a certain answer.

Unfortunately it's really a gamble. I've been lucky enough to be in a ward (congregation/neighborhood) where I've gotten a lot of positive feedback and support. My partner and I (very visibly queer) have been going to church together for the past month+ and we've only ever had kind things said to us. I think even the members who might believe that being queer is contrary to God's will still want to be kind and help us feel at home and recognize that our journeys on earth are not really their business.

Sadly, that can't be said of everyone. I've been in Sunday School classes in the past where hurtful things were said about queer people that sent me spiraling. I've heard of church leaders who pull trans people aside and ask them to stop attending because their presence is a "disruption." It really varies and I wish I could give you something to measure it by but I've been welcomed in the same town that a friend of mine was rejected.

more advice under the cut:

If you want to learn more about the LDS church, what we believe, how we started, and the Book of Mormon, this website is a good place to start. I don't know if you're a praying type, but in this situation I'd usually recommend praying and asking God if exploring mormonism is a good path for you. If you do feel like attending services, this website can help you see what time the wards in your area meet.

Things to know about church services:

Sacrament Meeting is the meeting where everyone sits in pews and listens to talks. Second Hour (which alternates between gendered and mixed classes every other week) are smaller group discussions where people read scriptures and quotes, and talk about how the gospel fits into our lives. If you want to go to second hour after sacrament meeting, I would just kinda follow whoever looks like they're your age/gender, or if you're feeling brave you could ask someone.

Women usually wear modest dresses, or a shirt+skirt combo. Men usually wear white shirt, tie, and slacks. I personally wear colorful button ups and slacks, sometimes a tie and sometimes not, to express my nonbinary gender. But I don't mind standing out. You really can wear whatever you want, but if you are anxious about standing out, then knowing the dress customs can be helpful.

They usually sing 3 or 4 songs during sacrament meeting. You don't have to sing along, but there should be a hymn book available in case you do.

Part way through sacrament meeting, they pass the sacrament (the bread and water that represent Christ's body and blood). A small tray will be passed down the pews. You don't have to eat/drink, but you can if you want. We see it as a renewal of the promises we make when we are baptized.

People tend to be very friendly, and use the time before/after meetings to socialize. Someone might see an unfamiliar face and come say hi. I promise they mean well, but if it stresses you out feel free to excuse yourself.

[wearelondonhq]

TWILIGHT SAGA SENTENCE STARTERS.   feel free to change pronouns   /   change the sentence(s) to your liking.  

Happy Meme Day!!! If you want to take part all you have to do is reblog this post. Remember if you reblog to send them out to EVERYONE who also does. Meme lasts from today until the next Sunday (the 26th of May).

❛  i’ve got it,  i’ve got it!  i’m all right!  ❜

❛  you fell down two flights of stairs.  you went through a window.  ❜

❛  i’ll do whatever it takes to make you safe again.  ❜

❛  you’re in here because of me.  ❜

❛  ( name ),  calm down,  everything’s alright.  ❜

❛  you just can’t say stuff like that to me.  ever.  ❜

❛  rip him apart and burn the pieces.  ❜

❛  where else am i gonna go?  ❜

❛  where should i meet you?  ❜

❛  i put a new can of pepper spray in your bag.  ❜

❛  i’d never given much thought to how i’d die.  ❜

❛  c’mon,  we gotta talk boys!  are you being safe?  ❜

❛  dying in the place of someone i love seems like a good way to go.  ❜

❛  i have to go home now.  you have to take me home.  ❜

❛  you were a stubborn child,  weren’t you?  ❜

❛  when everything’s done,  i’m going to come back and get you.  ❜

❛  leave me alone!  it’s over!  get out!  ❜

❛  that’s gonna be a home run,  right?  ❜

❛  i’m gonna make it go away.  i’ll make it go away.  ❜

❛  what am i gonna say to him?  ❜

❛  death is peaceful.  easy.  life is harder.  ❜

❛  i just want to try one thing.  stay really still.  ❜

❛  i can’t hurt him.  ❜

❛  ( name ),  you are my life now.  ❜

❛  this isn’t real.  this kind of stuff doesn’t exist.  ❜

❛  we can do more stuff together.  ❜

❛  you’re not gonna drive home right now.  ❜

❛  ( name ), c’mon. i just—  i just got you back.  ❜

❛  why don’t you lemme drive?  ❜

❛  if i don’t leave now then i’m just gonna be stuck here like _.  ❜

❛  what if he kills one of us first?  ❜

❛  babe,  c’mon,  it’s just a game.  ❜

❛  is it enough just to have a long and happy life with me?  ❜

❛  i’ll keep her safe,  ( name ).  ❜ ❛  you’re ready right now?  ❜

❛  i/we won’t be bothering you anymore.  ❜

❛  i dream about being with you forever.  ❜

❛  if anything happens,  i swear to god.  ❜ ❛ 

❝ I decided as long as I'm going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly. ❞

❝ I said it would be better if we weren’t friends, not that I didn’t want to be.❞

❝ What if I'm the bad guy/girl/person? ❞    

❝ Do I dazzle you? ❞

❝ The right thing isn't always real obvious. ❞

❝ You’re still waiting for the running and the screaming, aren’t you? ❞

❝ I am not really breaking any rules. ❞

❝ You think I regret saving your life? ❞

❝ I always say too much when I'm talking to you. That's one of the problems. ❞

❝ I know love and lust don't always keep the same company. ❞

❝ Do you like scary stories? ❞

❝ No matter how perfect the day is, it always has to end. ❞

❝ I miss you. ❞

❝ Distract me, please.  ❞

❝ You really should stay away from me. ❞

❝ It's too easy to be myself with you. ❞

❝ It's not the end. It's the beginning. ❞

❝ Your hair looks like a haystack, but I like it. ❞

❝ I'd rather know what you're thinking - even if what you're thinking is insane. ❞

❝ Can't you just thank me and get over it? ❞

❝ You've got a bit of a temper, don't you? ❞

❝ I don’t like to lie – so there’d better be a good reason why I’m doing it. ❞

❝ Without the dark, we'd never see the stars. ❞

❝ I hate you for making me want you so much. ❞

❝ Immortality must grant endless patience. ❞

❝ I'd rather die than stay away from you. ❞

❝ I love you. It's a poor excuse for what I'm doing, but it's still true. ❞

❝ I wished there was some way to explain how very uninterested I was in a normal human life. ❞

❝ I'm feeling extremely insignificant! ❞

BONUS! UNDER THE CUT, FIND A FEW MORE FROM NEW MOON AND ECLIPSE:

"what  part  of  'mortal  enemies'  is  too  complicated  for  you  to—"

"i  don't  think  you  should  dump  all  your  other  friends  for  your  boyfriend."

"sure,  sure.  i'll  stop  by  your  crypt  after  school."

"do  you  really  think  hurting  her  is  better  than  protecting  her?"

"i  thought  it  would  be  something  faintly  realistic."

"look  after  my  heart  —  i've  left  it  with  you."

"if  i  get  hurt,  it  was  because  i  tripped."

"i'm    not    going    to    hide    out    in    the    forest    while    you    all    take    risks    for    me."

"let's    get    this    stupid    party    over    with."

"i    am    not    really    breaking    any    rules."

"i    wondered    why    i    was    being    so    formal.    must    be    the    nerves."

"how  can  we  be  friends,  when  we  love  each  other  like  this?"

“you  try  very  hard  to  make  up  for  something  that  was  never  your  fault.”

“you  didn’t  choose  this  kind  of  life,  and  yet  you  have  to  work  so  hard  to  be  good.”

“you’re  the  very  best  part  of  my  life.”

“it  was  exactly  what  was  to  be  expected.”

“i’d  rather  deal  with  real  zombies  than  watch  a  romance.”

“can  i  help  you  with  something?  you  look  lost.”

“your  friends  are  a  lot  more  interesting  than  mine.”

“five  foot  four  is  perfectly  average.”

“you’re  like  a  little  doll.”

“do  i  look  like  i  tripped  in  your  garage  and  hit  my  head  on  a  hammer?”

“you  can  be  so  out  of  it  sometimes.”

“i’m  in  the  mood  for  action.  bring  on  the  blood  and  guts!”

[thelampisaflashlight]

Blood Rite

[Local man learns he's hellspawn, gets told how to treat a rash. More at 11. I always say I'm not gonna make more OCs, but then Casey just kind of happened. Some mentions of throwing up, and alcohol. The other title for this, jokingly, is, "TFW your parents had a three way with the devil and now you exist", because, yeah. Yeah, I decided to take the low ground today. Also Omega's there.] Below the cut.

How it happened, no one is entirely sure, and the ones who might have known had long since passed on from this Earth, taking their secrets with them without giving so much as a warning to the following generations, because why would they?

The answer, regardless of reason, is usually simple; Greed.

Someone's great-great-great something or other makes a deal with the devil in exchange for a bit of money or fame, or some other bullshit, and gets told it'll come back to bite them at some point, but that's not their problem.

It might not even be their children's problem, or their grandkids, no.

No, it's usually Joe Schmo picking up the accursed tab, and Casey Krane is, unfortunately, the damned sucker dealing with his predecessors' poor decisions.

It started off small; Little headaches now and then that could be staved off by drinking water.

But then came the full body aches, which, again, only seemed to be soothed by water.

Every day it seemed like he needed just a little bit more time, just a little bit more water to drink, until it was almost impossible to pull him from it.

Of course, any time he visited the doctor, they told him he was fine.

Time and time again, even after seeking second, third, and fourth opinions, it seemed as if nothing was wrong with him at all.

...And then two lumps appeared on his forehead.

They weren't massive, but they were definitely there, and growing more obvious by the day.

That had warranted some further investigation... which got nowhere.

"They're known as cutaneous horns." one doctor had explained, "Essentially, you have a large build up of keratin, and as a result, you're developing conical growths on your forehead. Thankfully, they usually harmless, and can be removed. We'll do a biopsy to make sure everything else is fine, and you should be just fine."

"Will they grow back?" he'd asked, relieved that this little problem might soon be over.

"It's not impossible, but it's unlikely."

Unlikely.

Yeah, if Casey had been a gambling man, he probably would have looked at those odds and folded right then and there, because apparently "unlikely" means, "very likely" when it comes to this particular problem of his.

Cutting back the horns had kept them from reemerging for a couple weeks, but when he'd woken up from a nap one afternoon, he'd wandered into the bathroom, and, well...

"...Why the fuck are they larger?"

And just when he didn't think it could get weirder-

"THE FUCK IS THAT?!"

-he'd sprouted a goddamned tail.

So to answer the question: How did this all happen?

Truth be told, Casey wishes it was some stupid curse resulting from some distant ancestors want for money and power, but no.

No, the answer was, in his words...

"Fucking stupid."

Sitting down with his parents for, ironically, Sunday brunch after they'd returned from church, his mother had tearfully spilled the truth; She'd had an affair... with a demon.

At a lost for words, Casey had elected to slam his head down on the table, but then, as his father began to explain, "Actually, the two of us slept with-"

"OH MY FUCKING GOD-"

Needless to say, hearing about his parents' three-way with fuckin', Beelzebub or whoever the hell the hooved bastard was, on top of... everything else... had sent him into quite the tizzy.

Which leads us to now.

To this.

Whatever THIS is.

"-I can understand your confusion, this is all a lot to take in, but, we really are just here to help." The towering wall of a man standing in his living room had said, "What you're experiencing is perfectly natural for a ghoul your age."

"...A fucking what."

The man looks between Casey and his parents.

"Whoo-boy..."

.

.

.

"So why Sweden?"

"Mn?" Omega hums, glancing over at the young man sat beside him in the church's passenger van, "What do you mean?"

Casey gestures out the window at the passing countryside, "Why are we here?"

"Oh! ...Familiarity, I suppose, the ghoul says, then clarifies, "For myself that is. For you... a change of scenery."

The other's nose twitches and he sniffs dismissively before leaning on his palm, "...Cool, cool..."

Omega draws his mouth into a line and thinks for a moment before speaking again.

"...You know you can talk to me, yes? I can tell you're thinking very hard about something, and I can only guess as to what."

"...This all feels really cliché." Casey admits, and Omega can't help but snort -though he composes himself quickly and plays it off as a cough- directing his gaze out the window, "There's, like, a thousand and one stories like this where someone gets dragged from their ordinary life into something... fantastical. I guess I'm having a hard time believing any of this is real, and, honestly, I have half a mind to think this is all some elaborate practical joke to make me look like an idiot."

"For all I know, I'm in a room somewhere being monitored 24/7..." he continues, giving Omega a sideways glance, "...Could you give me some reason to believe that's not what's happening here?"

Without hesitation, Omega jabs Casey's arm with one of his nails, eliciting a yelp from the younger man.

"Ow! I meant, like, tell me I'm not imagining everything, not stab me!"

"This seemed easier and more to the, uh, point." he chuckles, "But, no, you're not imagining this. Clichés have to come from somewhere, and you, whether you believe it or not, have landed yourself right in one."

Casey rubs his arm.

"Does that actually hurt?" Omega asks, feeling at least a little guilty.

"Nah, it's whatever..."

"Those concerns aside, is there anything else you're wondering about?"

Casey leans back in his seat and shrugs.

"Think I got all of that out of my system at the airport... along with a couple other things."

Omega shudders, recalling the "incident" in the waiting area.

"Had the church not made the arrangements ahead of time, I'm fairly certain they wouldn't have let you on the plane after what happened..."

Casey tilts his head back.

"I think the last time I threw up that much, I drank this stuff called White Claw Surge, and I didn't realize they were, like, twice the alcohol content of regular seltzers..." he makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, "...'s'why I don't drink anymore. Fuckin' thought I was dying."

"...Did you used to drink a lot before?" Omega asks, not really looking to pry, so much as hoping to make conversation.

"Kind of, yeah." he says, "But, like, that's just kind of how it is back home."

"Just a part of the 'culture', ya know? Especially when you do the kind of work I do... did."

"You mentioned working on a farm before..." Omega leads, "...but you're currently unemployed, is that correct?"

Casey shoots him a glare, but there's no real heat there, only a strange... sadness Omega's not sure he can unpack in the length of one car ride.

He makes a mental note to address the issue at a later date, for now, he switches topics.

"I'm sort of in the same boat." he offers, "Sort of. I retired some years ago from my original position, but now I work fulltime as an advocate for individuals such as yourself. I went through something similar when I was young and new to all of this, though at the time there wasn't an outreach program, it was actually only established about a decade or so ago."

"...How'd you guys even find me? Is there a hotline for this shit that my parents could just call whenever-"

"..." the ghoul bites his lip, "...How would you feel if I said yes?"

"OH MY FUCKING GOD-"

"Language!" Omega hisses, covering his ears, "Ouch... but, yes, there was a way for them to contact the church about this... However, beyond calling the ministry's main office, the only way to verify a claim of demonic inheritance is, well... medical records."

"...You guys have access to my medical files??" Casey squeaks indignantly, "What the fuck??"

"Now I know that sounds bad-"

"Sounds bad?? That is bad! That's a huge invasion of privacy-" his eyes widen. "-Does that mean you know about my-"

Omega stares pointedly out the window, "-Oh, why would you look at that! A cow! How marvelous!"

Casey places his head in his hands.

"Oh my fucking god..."

"Without confessing to anything, uh, dubiously legal, I can say that, were you to have a rash -hypothetically speaking- any dandruff shampoo containing selenium sulfide, applied directly to the affected areas and left to sit on the skin for ten to fifteen minutes daily, along with proper hygiene should-"

"...Yeah, no, forget what I said earlier, I know this has to be a fucking nightmare." Casey wiggles the handle on the door, but finds it locked, and -upon making eye contact with the driver, who stares back wearily- instead settles for thumping his head against the window, "...What shampoos would you recommend...?"

"...I already put some in your bathroom."

"Fucking fantastic."

[theloveedit]

Holy Ghosted: Navigating Catholic Trauma

Sundays smelled like incense and wooden pews polished with decades of prayer. I can still hear the faint echo of hymns, see the flicker of candlelight, and feel the weight of guilt for reasons I couldn’t quite articulate at seven years old.

That’s the thing about being raised Catholic: the faith gets stitched into your soul before you’re old enough to understand what it means to carry it.

But as I got older, I couldn’t help but feel a growing tension between the beliefs I was taught to hold sacred and the values I’d come to embrace through my own experiences.

I believe in gay rights, in a woman’s right to choose, in love, autonomy, and equality. And yet, every time I feel myself pulling away from the Church, there’s that little voice whispering, What if you’re wrong?

Catholicism has a way of leaving its mark on you, like a tattoo you didn’t consent to. It’s the rhythm of the "Our Father" when you’re lying awake at night, the reflexive genuflect when you pass a church, the guilt you can’t quite shake when you skip Mass on Christmas Eve. It’s part of who you are, whether you like it or not.

Growing up Catholic means you’re taught that suffering is sacred, sacrifice is noble, and questioning is dangerous. It means learning to fold your hands in prayer while silently wrestling with questions you’re afraid to ask out loud. Why would a loving God condemn someone for who they love? Why are women barred from the altar? Why does the Church preach compassion yet so often fail to practice it?

I couldn’t help but wonder: could faith and freedom coexist, or was I destined to always feel like I was betraying one to honor the other?

I’m not angry with my faith. In fact, I still find beauty in its rituals and comfort in its teachings about love, forgiveness, and the enduring presence of something greater than ourselves. But I can’t reconcile the faith I grew up with and the one I’m building now. To me, loving my neighbor means standing up for their right to marry, choose, and live freely. It means rejecting the parts of the Church that prioritize dogma over dignity.

And so, I find myself in a strange in-between space. Religious, but not devout. Faithful, but not obedient. I still light candles for loved ones, cross myself in moments of fear, and feel a pang of something...guilt? Nostalgia? Both? But I’ve stopped looking for God in the pews of a Church that won’t make space for the people I love.

Instead, I find God in the courage of a woman reclaiming her body, in the resilience of someone fighting for their right to love, in the quiet strength it takes to choose kindness over judgment. I don’t think that makes me any less Catholic. If anything, it feels like I’m living the faith I was taught, stripped of its contradictions.

Leaving the Church, or at least growing away from it, isn’t about rejecting everything it stands for. It’s about refusing to stay silent when it conflicts with what you know to be right. It’s about carrying the parts that nourish your soul while leaving behind the ones that weigh it down.

So here I am, a lapsed Catholic who still prays, still believes, and still wrestles with what it means to have faith. The Church might not want me, but that doesn’t mean I’ve abandoned God. After all, if God is love, I’m pretty sure She understands.