#that's when i remembered ab her pen

[ddejavvu]

can i request a derek fic where readers also in BAU and they’re married and everytime someone says “morgan” both her and derek turn around or show up and the teams figuring out how to differentiate the morgan’s and dereks just all smug like “yeah she’s MY wife”

i love you’re writing btw!!!🩷

"Morgan?" Penelope calls from the kitchen, "You're scheduled for a retake of your ID photo today at 12!"

The responses she gets are a, 'What?' from you, and a, 'What'd you say?' from your husband. You blink bewilderedly at him, and relish the way that his grin lights up the room between you, like a sunbeam shot into your chest.

"Oh, not you," Penelope huffs, peering over the open door of the fridge to glance between you two, "I meant the pretty one!"

"That doesn't narrow it down, babygirl," Derek raises an amused brow at her, drumming his pen on the wood surface of his desk, "You talking to me or my wife?"

"Your wife!" Penelope all but snaps, "Derek, your ego is so inflated."

"It's your fault," You tease Penelope, who withdraws from the fridge with a can of soda and a slightly guilty expression on her face, "I seem to remember you answering just about a thousand of his phone calls with, 'Ahoy there, sexy'."

"Stop," She pleads regretfully, cracking the tab on her soda can with more force than she needs to, "Don't- stop! I didn't know you two were- were hitched! -were canoodling! I never would have talked about his abs if I'd known he was taken."

"It's okay," You promise her, and you really mean it, because you know for all of their sex-crazed banter, they're friends to the highest degree, and Derek is faithful to you. "Penelope, if it weren't for you, he wouldn't know how to paint nails."

"It's true," Derek nods, grabbing your hand to showcase the baby blue color he'd applied for you just yesterday, "You're my personal trainer, P.G."

She surrenders with a sigh, and you're glad that she seems to not harbor any real guilt, because you'd hate for her to be burdened with it. She leans in to peer at your hand Derek has on display, and when she looks closely at your ring finger, her nose scrunches in a grimace.

"You got it on her cuticles, Derek," She chides, disapproval apparent in her tone that makes your chest shake in a gleeful laugh, "Have I taught you nothing?"

[abbyshands]

Good nigth darling,you're okay?can we have more nerdy!abby pleaase i beg you 🙏🙏🙏(srry for my inglish)

teach me

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

a/n; hello, my love! i’m good, and i hope you are too! of course EEK i was going to write more for her anyway, i love a nerdy girl. also this is cut off asf I’M SORRY i’m tired, maybe i’ll do a part 2 if y’all ask <3

synopsis; you’ve never been good at science, let alone college biology. when your professor all but forced you to get a tutor, who should you end up with but your nerdy girlfriend, who has a very unique way of getting you to study?

pairing; dom!abby anderson x sub!fem!reader

warnings; abby uses baby/princess, use of a strap-on, cockwarming + edging (kinda), abby refers to the strap as her dick and it’s referred to as her dick/cock, choking, spanking, degradation (ish. abby’s tone is just mean), anddd i prob missed smt so lmk <3

wc; 2.2k

p.s.; ALSO this is was ib an ellie fic i saw bro idk where tf it is 😭 searching for it tho. i js remember it was nerdy ellie. it was so good BUT LIKE WHERE IS ITTT idk i’ll link it here if i find it

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

you’ve always sucked at science. biology, chemistry, whatever the hell it was, it had never been your cup of tea.

your professor had not so kindly recommended you get a tutor. otherwise, your grades would decline (more than they already were, that is). you didn't want a tutor, let alone for it to be someone you didn't know. you were already feeling awkward enough having to have someone tutor you at all—you couldn't imagine if it was by an unfamiliar.

that's where abby came in.

abby anderson was your girlfriend, and she was a nerd. like, cliche movie nerd. if you couldn't find her in her dorm, with you, or in class, she was at the library, doing homework until she couldn't anymore. she was a coffee addict with how late she was up each evening, study sessions, unnecessarily reviewing, and, again, homework.

let's just say, abby anderson would do crazy things for an a.

you didn't necessarily want to have abby as your tutor. for some reason, it was embarrassing to you. you had already felt that way when you told her you needed one at all. it would be 10x worse if she would be the one doing it.

not only that, the focus.

how the fuck were you going to focus when you have abby fucking anderson in front of you? when your mind races with memories of her fucking you from behind, or kissing down your neck, or making you the wettest you've ever been, just by being alive?

you weren't.

but abby was persistent. you had originally said no when she first asked to tutor you, but when the guy who was supposed to tutor you didn't even show for your first session, it was no longer a request.

it was a demand.

you were sitting beside abby in her dorm, working on an assignment for your biology class that was due the following day. you had taken up to ten breaks by now, and it had only been an hour and a half or so.

abby pushed her glasses up on her face as she looked over at you, eyebrow raised. you had been dozing off, elbow on the desk and chin on your palm as your eyes began to fall shut.

"hey," abby snapped her large hand in front of your face, making your eyes open again just as quickly as it had happened. "are you listening to me?"

no.

"yeah. yeah, sorry, i just, um—dna and rna. that's what we're learning now, right?" you ask confusedly, doing your best to make it seem like you know what you’re talking about.

but the look on abby's face tells you all you need to know.

"mhm, like, ten minutes ago," abby hums a bit annoyedly, and you can't help but let out a sigh. it's bad enough you have to be here at all, but letting abby down, or worse, pissing her off, was the last thing you wanted to do. “you're never going to learn if you don't put any effort in," she sighs.

“c’mon, abs,” you whined as you set your pencil aside, putting your head down on the desk, eyes on abby. the blonde set her own pen down with a small shake of the head, expression unreadable. “i can’t do this anymore,” you said dramatically. abby rolled her eyes.

“what’s wrong now?” abby asked, but it’s not like she really wanted to know the answer. you knew how seriously abby took her own schoolwork, which may be the reason she was annoyed that you didn’t. but you just weren’t like that.

“none of this makes sense. i can’t remember a thing we go over. god, i hate biology,” you complained once more, looking away from abby.

abby sighed as she put a hand on your shoulder. as much as she wanted to be annoyed, she loved you, and she knew full well that even if you were smart, biology was your worst class.

“what can i do to help, baby? flashcards, d’you want me to quiz you? what do you need?” abby asked as she moved her hand to your back, rubbing it. you shrugged.

“i dunno. i don’t think any of that stuff is going to help me, abby. my memory’s—not that good,” you lamely huffed, but it was true. your memory was best when it came down to the things you cared for. college biology was not one of them.

“hm,” abby hummed. it took a beat, a small pause. but then, abby’s perked eyebrows told you that she had just gotten an idea, and so did the way her plump lips curled into a grin.

“i think i know what’ll do the trick.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

that’s how you ended up on abby’s lap, her cock buried deep inside of you as she gripped you by the bottom. abby’s way of bettering your sour memory came in the form of one of the most agonizing experiences you had ever had.

“how does dna differ from rna?” abby asks you casually, as if she isn’t filling you to the brim. you feel your face getting hot, bottom lip bitten down on as you look at her nervously.

“u- uhm. d- dna has a d- double helix model, fuck,” you whine. you must be at least a little correct, because abby bucks her hips up into you, causing the silicone dildo to move inside of you. “rna’s single, a- and involved in a different process than dna.”

“attagirl,” abby praised. it’s then that she grabbed you by the ass, hard, and forced you to ride up to the top of her dick, just before she’s slamming you back down. for only a few seconds, you gain some pleasure by moving your body like that, or abby doing it for you, that is.

but then, she’s robbing it away from you, just like that.

“a- abby, please, c’mon,” you whimper. this had been going on for a third of an hour or so. abby would ask you a question from the deck of index cards she had made for you, and you would answer. simple, right?

wrong.

because here's the thing: she wouldn’t move unless you answered her, and it had to be correct. and if not?

smack.

abby's large hand comes down on your ass as if to shut you up. really, it doesn't. you let out a moan as she then grabs your ass again, not giving a care to how sore you may be.

because she's already slapped you way too many times to count.

“don't act like this isn't for your own good," she says firmly, reprimanding you. "you got that one wrong last time. and we’re not going to stop until you’ve got that whole fucking deck memorized, you got that?” she asks, signaling to the forgotten pile of index cards on the desk behind you. you whine, body too achy for abby to deny her.

“f- fine," you whine, because who the hell would you be to say no?

“good girl," abby praises as she rubs her hands over your bottom, caressing you in a loving manner, a wide difference to the way she was addressing you mere seconds before. "now, can you tell me what a neuron is?”

doing your best to not focus on the feeling inside you, you nod, and easily answer. “a- a neuron—" you huff. "is a specialized cell.”

abby moves her hands to your hips and pushed you up, so that you're around halfway down on her cock. you let out a small shudder, but it must mean you're correct. “and what’s it do?” abby then asks.

to some degree.

but you know this one. after all, it was one of the last cards you looked at in the deck. so, you respond, “transmit.”

abby moves you up more, and this time, she brings one of her hands up to cup your tit. she plays with your nipple if only for a second, causing you to let out a low moan. but just when you think she's going to keep going, of course, she doesn't.

“transmit what?” she asks firmly as her fingers caress your rib cage, and it's all you can do not to roll your eyes.

“nerve impulses," you say a bit too fast, eager to have her hands back on you. your neediness helped you on that one. "i- it’s the basic unit of the nervous system," you add, for good measure.

"that's right, princess," abby smirked, course she did. she had always had way too much fun when she was driving you crazy during sex. this was no different.

but you're pleased to find yourself rewarded, because abby allows you to ride her again. you move up and down a little quickly, scared that your girlfriend will rob you of the feeling before it's even begun. abby begins to rub your clit as she gazes at you fucking yourself on her dick, way too needy for her touch.

"eager girl," abby cooed, rubbing her index on your clit in quick circles. "so needy for my cock, aren't you?"

"yes," you huff out fast, eyes closing shut at the feeling under you.

"too bad."

abby shoves you all the way back down her dick, so that you're all the way back down at the base. it pleasures you for only a second, before the feeling vanishes, just like that.

"abby, f- fuck," you groan annoyedly, body begging for a release you know abby won't give you unless you do what she tells you to do.

and she doesn't like your words.

abby grabs you by the neck, forcing you to look at her as you roll your eyes in the brattiest manner she's ever seen from you. "look at me. look at me when i'm talking to you," and she uses that tone you know she only uses when she's not playing games, barking your full name out at the end like the word pains her tongue.

once she's got your eyes on her, she speaks once more. "if you really want this dick, and i know you do, you're gonna take what i give you like the good girl you are. that clear?"

you keep your eyes on her, scared of what will happen if you don't, face hot as you answer. "y- yes, ma'am."

"primary use of the kidneys?" abby asks, not even giving you praise for obeying her. but you're not at all surprised by that: if there was one thing about abby, she did not like your bratty side.

this time, unlike what abby's asked you before, you can't remember the answer to this. like, at all. you fumble with it for a second, digging through your head for what it could be. but you don't get a response.

"i- i don't know," you dumbly stutter, genuinely unsure of what to say. abby isn't having it, obviously, because one mlre spank is coming down onto your ass before you know it.

"f- fuck!" you whine brokenly, head rocking back, and bottom sore from each hit abby's given you. she doesn't seem to care.

"yes, you do," she all but growls at you, and you think of your real class all too quickly, like she's your professor. "we went over this. so fucking tell me," she says, and it only makes your abdomen churn more.

and fill with butterflies.

“s- something to do with b- blood pressure, right? c- controlling it? please say yes," you were begging more to yourself than to abby, not even sure where that answer came from.

“mhm, and what else?" she coos, doing what she's done a million times before: moving you halfway up her cock.

"i- i don't know, abs. can't remember," you mutter, and really, how could you by now?

it looks like abby is feeling a little generous this time, because she helps you along. "what’s it do to your body, princess? begins with an 'r',” she asked.

even when your brain begins to fog up with all of the questions in your head, and what's happening besides that, it seems to click for you when abby says the letter 'r.' “r- regulates it? th- the fluid balance?”

“mhm," abby says with a small nod of approval, even kissing your chest this time as a reward.

"there’s my smart girl.”

and it goes on like that forever, question, answer, question, answer. sometimes, you got abby's cock easily. most times, you weren't so lucky.

your eyes are drooping, body aching and face hot as you stutter out the answer to the final card in the deck. once you do, you let out a deep, long exhale, which makes abby chuckle.

"see, pretty girl? wasn't that bad, was it?" abby coos, putting her hand up to cup your cheek. obviously, you want to say no. but after all of this, it was too risky to be bratty to abby. so you shake your head.

and you hadn’t even finished yet.

"n- no, it was—fine," you lie, and abby knows you are. but she doesn't ask about it, knowing full well how much she's done to you already.

"look on the good side.”

“you'll remember better now, won't you?"

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

reblogs are very much welcomed <3

———

[littl3sp4rkly4ngel]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ ��─ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭… 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲’𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬

summary ; abby, her pretty arms and you…

content warning ; fem!reader x abby anderson, SFW part: lots of fluff, petnames, established relationship. NSFW part, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT: strap usage (r receiving), cunnilingus (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), pet names, kinda choking, kinda size kink (reader’s size not specified!), strenght kink (?,

author’s note ; totally got inspired by this post from @cssiel, go show some love!! <3

palestine & tlou click to support palestine

𝐒𝐅𝐖

★ we can all agree abby has the juiciest arms… i mean, just look at those pics!!

★ so i really picture her feeling so so confident when your eyes stay fixed on those bulky veiny sexy arms for just a little too long…….

★ she absolutely loves it when you kiss her, but when you kiss her arms??? she feels like she’s about to melt.

★ when the two of you go out, she always makes sure you’re by her side. she either has her arm around your shoulders or your arms are intertwined.

★ whenever your arms are hooked with hers you feel like she’s about to crush your hand if she clenches her bycep… and you both love it!!!

★ your favourite activities with her arms include tying bows, doodling on them or trying to kiss all her freckles!!

★ “what are you doing, pretty girl?” abby laughed when she saw you cutting a piece of pink ribbon. “i want to try something, pleeease…” you beg clasping your hands together.

★ when you finished tying the bow she just giggled and patted your head, “you’re adorable.” she muttered, playing it cool (she was internally screaming how much she loved you).

★ the doodling became a thing when you two were hanging out in your room, abby was reading a book and you were sketching some stuff. your girlfriend started missing your touch (even tho you were lying by her side), so she threw her arm over your shoulders and kissed the side of your head.

★ that’s when you looked down at her arm and an amazing idea came to you, “stay still, abs!” you grinned as you grabbed your pen and started drawing little hearts and starts on her forearm.

★ since that day, whenever you’re bored you draw some doodles on abby’s arms and she ADORES IT.

★ and well, another thing abby loves is when you bite her arm… she thinks it’s so cute and reminds her of an animal marking their territory!!

★ so yeah…. abby’s arms !!!! ♡

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 (+𝟏𝟖)

★ she loves wrapping her arm around your neck as she hits it from the back with her strap. had to say it.

★ tbh, we all know she’s a big teddy bear, but i truly believe that changes when she remembers that she could easily crush you…. her pussy gets so wet thinking about it…

★ when you guys need to be quiet, she tells you to bite her arms so you can keep your noises down and she lives for it. “you need to keep your voice down, baby…” she starts, “open your mouth, pretty girl, and bite down.” as she puts her forearm in front of your mouth.

★ let’s not forget about the way she separates your legs with her big hands and how she holds them still with her arms when she eats you out like a starved woman…

★ “stop trying to close your legs, baby, you already know it’s not happening.” she mutters while kissing your thighs.

★ abby loves to finger you while she spoons you and wraps her arms around your waist, she feels so good being so close to you, the intimacy makes her heart beat faster and her fingers go deeper…

★ ugh… i need her so bad…

[fallingdownhell]

Omg pls a part two for Kaeya and Diluc forgetting your birthday it’s so good I LOVE ANGST <3

Alrighty, fine. Since so many more people asked for a part 2, here it is.But I can't promise that everything goes fine..

Characters Included: Diluc; Kaeya

Content: gender neutral reader; hurt/comfort; angst; hurt/no comfort; one is gonna be forgiven, the other one not

Word count: 1,9k words

Please enjoy reading!

Diluc

Gods, he was so exhausted.

He wished for nothing more than to just walk over to his bedroom and fall asleep on the bed, but he couldn't. He had some important matters he still had to attend to before he could go do that.

He was currently hunched over his desk, scanning over some documents that needed his attention. It was late at night, yet there was still light shining from under the door, as well as footsteps coming from the mansion.

Diluc paid that no mind however, trying to focus back on his work. However, when he heard a pair of footsteps walk up the staircase, he put his pen down, listening to them.

He was fairly sure that it was you, so he listened to it, hoping that you would come inside to check on him. He knew he shouldn't have lashed out at you like that earlier and he wanted to apologize to you for it.

However, the person outside kept walking, past the door to his office and instead went into the next room, which was the bedroom that belonged to the both of you.

At first, he didn't think too much of it, maybe you were just really tired and going to bed now. But, as he continued to listen, it got more and more strange to him. Your footsteps hadn't quietet down at all. You were apparently still walking around the room, he could hear the opening and closing of drawers and closets.

He had half a mind to walk over there and ask you what you're doing in the middle of the night. Then again, he wasn't really any better and he really had to finish this, but when suddenly a second pair of footsteps climbed up the stairs, his attention was taken to them.

A few seconds latter, soft knocking was heard on the wodden door, followed by Adelinde's voice asking to enter the study. Diluc allowed her inside but turned his attention finally back to his work.

He noticed her approaching the table and putting a plate down in front of him. He glanced at it, laying his eyes upon a nice looking piece of cake.

"Did you bake that, Adelinde? It looks delicious. I'll eat it once I'm done here."

He was about to dismiss her, but the fact that she hadn't said a word made him look at her with his full attention now.

"Master Diluc.. do you really not remember?"

"Remember what, Adelinde? You'll have to be more specific than that."

She looked at him for a few more seconds, it almost seemed to him like her eyes were boring into his very soul. Then, she turned around and approached the door again. She stepped out into the hallway, moving to close the door but before she did so, she said one last thing to him.

"Today was their birthday."

Then Adelinde closed the door, leaving Diluc in the room all by himself.

Hearing those words put him into a shock. No.. this couldn't be..

He...forgot?

Suddenly, thousands of times and situations played in his head where you tried to grab his attention and he had dismissed you every single time.. how long had he been treating you like this?

Then, a loud sound rang from the bedroom next door, and Diluc suddenly got ahold of himself again.

He immediately shot up and ran outside, bursting through the door to your shared room, startling you in the process. But the sight before him made his heart clench like never before.

The sight of you, stuffing some of your clothes and other belongings into a bag, your eyes red and swollen, probably from crying.

"D-Diluc? What are you... why are you here?"

You asked him, but he didn't answer. Instead, he walked over to you, steps quick, and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly.

"D-diluc? What-!"

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, (Name)."

Suddenly understanding what this was about, you relaxed a bit, but didn't do anything else. You didn't reciprocate the hug, either, and no words left your lips..

"I'm so sorry.. for everything. I didn't even realize how badly I was treating you." He fell on his knees in front of you, taking your hands into his, holding them tightly.

"Please, believe when I say that this was never my intention. I love you very dearly, (Name). I know I didn't show it for some time, but I do. Nothing can ever change how I feel about you. So please... don't leave.."

By the end of it, his voice sounded broken, silent cries leaving him as tears streamed down his face. You looked down on him, seeing him all broken down in front of you, and you feel your resolve begin to waver.

Maybe.. maybe you could try again with him..

But then you remembered the last few months, how he pushed you away every single time you tried to adress something with him... how he pushed you away on your own birhtday...

Gently, you pull your hands out of his grip. Diluc immediately understood what this gesture meant, yet he wasn't willing to accept this.

"(Name), please-!"

"No, Diluc. I can't anymore. Who's to tell me that you won't go back to treating me like this after a few weeks again? I tried it. I tried to deal with it and I tried to talk to you, but you never wanted to. You always shut me down. Well, I hope you're happy because I am done. I can't keep feeling like I'm worth nothing to you.

Thank you, for all the time I had with you, but it's over now."

You gave him one last, mournful look, then grabbed your bag and walked past him.

He let you... there was nothing else he could do..

He listened to you walking down the stairs, listened to the heavy front door open, and then.. It feel closed again.

And just like that.. you were out of his life..

He lost you and this time, he had noone else to blame but himself and his own stupid decisions..

He broke down again, crying so hard like he hadn't done in years. If only he wouldn't have been so stupid..

Kaeya

Tired and still angry from the events that had happened yesterday, Kaeya was sitting in his office again, stationed at the Knights of Favonius headquarters.

He was looking through files and documents he didn't get to finish yesterday because he suddenly had the workload of four other people pushed onto him.

He was still angrily mumbling to himself when a knock on the door resonated within his office. He didn't bother giving an answer, yet the other person took that as permission to enter, pushing the door open to reveal Lisa to the stressed out Kavalry captain.

"Kaeya, there you are! We were missing you at (Name's) party yesterday. Why weren't you there?"

Oh, now that pissed him off even more. He put his utensiles down, trying to control his emotions and actions. He looked at Lisa, smiling at her, yet it was obvious how faked and forced it was.

"Well, I think the bigger question here is, why were you at a party during work hours in the first place. I wouldn't mind you going, but why convince everyone else along, leaving all of the work for me alone to handle?"

"..Why wouldn't I go to the party I, myself, organized?", she questioned, looking at him confused. Like she was trying to figure something out.

"You were organizing that atrocious thing? Well, in that case that begs even more questions. Again, why pull everyone else along except me? Also, why plan it in my and (name's) shared house, of all places?"

She didn't answer immediately like the times before. Instead, she was still looking at Kaeya, until a few seconds later, her entire face lit up in realization.

"Oh, you idiot..", she mumbled, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Excuse me? I do think it's not-!"

"Kaeya, you idiot! You really forgot?"

"...Forgot what?", he asked, now being confused himself. Why was she reacting this way?

"You really did... it was their birthday yesterday! That's what the party was for! Also, wasn't this whole thing your idea in the first place?"

At her words, his eyes widened in shock, realization hitting him now as well. He did.. He forgot your birthday.

Immediately after that, he thought back to yesterday.. the words he spat in your mouth.. the way your eyes teared up in front of him.. and he just ignored it, walked away like the entire world just revolved around him alone..

He took one look at Lisa, who was just nodding at him. He did so as well, grabbing his coat and then he started running.

Kaeya ran out the headquarters through the streets of Mondstadt, only having one destination in mind. He never slowed down, not even for a second to catch his breath. Only when he was finally standing in front of his own door did he do so as he was trying to fish the keys out of his pocket.

He unlocked the door and immediately entered.

"(Name)?", he shouted as soon as he closed the door behind him. He listened for a few seconds, but... nothing. No answer, no sounds.

He panicked a bit as he began to search the place. The house was still a mess from yesterday, but he didn't care for that right now.

Kaeya searched through every room, shouting your name to try and grab your attention.

The panic began to settle a bit as he opened the bedroom door, seeing you still asleep on the bed.

He approached you, finding you clutching his own pillow close to you, like you have been searching for some comfort. Your eyes were all red and swollen up, because of your crying.

'The crying that you, yourself, caused..', he thought, feeling sorry for what he had said to you.

He went on his knees on the floor, next to the bed. He inspected your, now peaceful looking face, for a few more seconds.

"(Name), wake up, please.", he said gently, stroking some stray hair out of your face.

You began shifting in your sleep and soon enough, you opened your eyes.

Seeing Kaeya, you remember his hurtful words from yesterday night right away, so you were trying to create some space between the both of you.

"No, no!", he exclaimed, getting up from his knees and putting his arms around you, hugging you close to him.

"I am so sorry about yesterday, (name). I don't know how it could have possibly slipped my mind, but it did. Words can't describe how awful I feel about the things I said, but please know that I meant none of them.

I love you, and I'll do anything for you. You have every right to be angry with me and never forgive me for what I said and did, but.. please.."

After he finished, you stayed silent, not knowing how to respond to this. Then, you felt something wet against your shoulder. First it was only one time, then it got more and more and you knew that Kaeya was crying against your shoulder right now.

You then, finally, hugged him back.

He was so relieved that you did this, hoping that this meant one step into the right direction.

Maybe.. someday in the future, you can forgive Kaeya for this...

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Sweet Nothings

Pairing: Abraham (Grantchester) x f!reader Warnings: Dirty talk, smut. Word count: ~1.4k

Summary: They had agreed to call it quits when Abraham's community moved on from Grantchester, however, the urge to keep in touch is too powerful for either of them to resist.

Author's note: Day five of the Smuffmas prompts - "letters and lingerie". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Abraham had kissed her fiercely, his lips pressed tightly to hers as though he meant to steal the very breath from her lungs. He’d kissed her like it was the last time he ever would, because the reality of it was just that - he was moving on, this would be the last time their mouths would meet with such passion.

She had always known that this was coming; six weeks prior when they had begun their little tryst, they had agreed when his time in Grantchester came to an end, so too would their relationship.

That doesn’t stop the ache in her heart when that day finally arrives though, but she does her best to hold back her tears as she watches him walk away, not wanting to make this any more difficult than it already is. She swears when he looks back she sees a hint of regret cast back at her in the blueness of his gaze. Perhaps that is just her seeing what she wants to see though.

Two weeks pass, and she does her best to carry on as normal, despite the void that Abraham has left behind in her life.

That is until the day a letter passes through the letterbox, landing softly on the doormat. It’s addressed to her, though she doesn’t recognise the handwriting. Tearing it open, a warmth spreads through her chest, recognising the sender as she reads it.

Darling,

I know we said that this is it, but I can’t stop thinking about you. The pillow on my bed that you laid your pretty head upon still smells like you. I miss the warmth of you, the way your body fits against mine. I can still picture your smile, still hear your laugh, and I think I’m going crazy without you.

I’m sorry if hearing from me is upsetting for you, I just can’t stand the idea that some other bloke will make you smile, make you laugh, make you moan like I used to. I don’t expect you to write back, but I’d be over the moon if you did. We’re camped up at a place called Yaxley, just outside of Peterborough. If you do decide to write back, address it to the Yaxley post office, and I’ll pick it up. I’ll check every day to see if you’ve written.

Yours, always,

Abraham

The penmanship is a barely legible scrawl, and the letter is riddled with spelling errors, yet she can’t deny it makes her pulse race to know that he’s missing her, so she snatches up a pen and paper and writes back straight away.

Over the following weeks they write to each other frequently, talking about their days, professing their yearning for each other, and with every exchange their words grow more heated and passionate.

She gets an idea when one of his letters states that he is “missing the pretty little pink thing” she used to wear for him, knowing exactly the lingerie set he’s hinting at.

Slipping on the satin French knickers and matching brassiere, the material feels silky soft against her skin. Butterflies flutter in her belly remembering how the last time she’d worn this, Abraham had peeled it off her, his bright eyes following the path of it as it had fallen away from her body.

Setting up the polaroid camera, she takes several photos of herself in various provocative poses - ones she knows will make his blood run hot - jutting out her hip, pushing out her chest, arching her back, accentuating her curves and all of his favourite places to touch her.

Once she is satisfied that she has an adequately arousing selection, she settles down to write.

Abe,

Enclosed are pictures of that “pretty little pink thing” you love so much. I hope it satisfies your longing, though it does little to sate mine. I ache for the feel of your big, strong hands against my body, and I’m saddened that when this comes off once more it won’t be you that’s removing it.

Remember the last time I wore this? I do. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the weight of you on top of me, the feel of your lips against my skin, the wonderful ache between my legs as you moved against me.

I’d give anything for just one more night with you. I fear you have ruined me for all other men.

Yours forever.

The envelope she drops into the postbox the next day is thicker and heavier than usual, and she grins excitedly, imagining the smile on Abraham’s face when he eventually opens it.

For the next week, her gaze is fixed on the letterbox each morning, waiting for his reply to drop through, but nothing arrives and the disappointment she feels mounts by the day, sadness and embarrassment causing a heated feeling in her cheeks and a heaviness in her chest.

She has all but given up on the idea of him ever replying, thinking she has made a fool of herself, or worse still, that her letter has gotten lost, when one evening there’s a knock at her front door.

Strong arms wrap around her, and once more her breath is stolen away, as Abraham’s mouth descends upon hers, backing her up into the living room as he kicks the door closed behind him.

He cups her cheek, keeping her close to him when they eventually part for air, his chest heaving. “Couldn’t find the right words for what those photos made me wanna do to ya, so thought it best I just show you.”

She squeals as he throws her over his shoulder, carrying her towards the bedroom and depositing her onto the bed as though she weighs nothing. Propping herself up on her palms she looks at him in wide eyed excitement as he looms over, his darkened gaze roving over her form before moving to follow her.

He bumps her nose with his as he plants a hand either side of her head. She can feel how hard he is already through his trousers, as he presses himself against her, and it makes her core throb with want.

“First,” he whispers, “I want you naked, no flimsy underwear compares to the feel of you bare against me.”

She gasps, as he all but tears the clothes from her body, the barely audible pop of buttons and seams lost to the desperate need she feels for him as she pulls at his shirt and trousers in turn. Sighing in pleasure at the sensation of his skin against hers once more, she feels a sense of relief. Having him like this is like returning home after a prolonged absence.

He kisses her, and she whines when he pulls away, the gesture all too brief, though she is quick to giggle as his lips trail a path from her neck, all the way down her body until he’s positioned between her legs.

“Then,” he continues, eyes flitting up to meet hers. “I’m gonna taste you, see if you’re sweet as I remember.”

Her head falls back with a moan as he licks a line with the flat of his tongue from her opening to her pearl. The rumble of appreciation that growls within his throat vibrates through her, and she buries her hands in his hair, certain she is ruining the carefully waxed and styled coif, though he is making her feel too good for her to care.

His hands grip her thighs as alternates between lapping at her with quick precise movements, and fucking her with his tongue. As she feels herself on the crest of her pleasure, he pulls away, and she cries out in frustration.

He grins as he moves back up her body, his chin slick and shining with her arousal.

“Now, I wanna feel you squeeze around my cock until you peak,” he murmurs, lining the head of himself up with her and pushing slowly forward.

Her mind goes blank as he presses inwards, only able to focus on the stretch of him inside of her, causing her to arch against him.

“I want every thought to be gone from your mind, every thought but how good it feels when I fuck you,” he continues, keeping his thrusts slow and steady, “So that that’s what you’re thinking of when I leave again and ask you to come with me.” As she feels the pressure begin to build in her lower belly again, she knows there is no way she can say no to him. Letters just won’t be enough anymore after this, she needs all of him.

[juniorig0327]

Wrote this in like two hours how do y'all feel about this?

Percy can’t believe it went wrong so quickly.

He was enjoying his well deserved retirement from the demigod life, hell he was getting to a point where he almost believed he deserved it. That’s when he heard his mom call his name.

“-Percy! Hurry come quick!” Sally called out and he came rushing into the other room, clutching his pen.

“Mom? What’s wrong..?”

The only thing she did was point to the radio and turn up the volume.

“…This is KTU in Honolulu, Hawaii. I am speaking from the roof of the Advertiser Publishing Company Building. We have witnessed this morning the distant view a brief full battle of Pearl Harbor and the severe bombing of Pearl Harbor by enemy planes, undoubtedly Japanese. The city of Honolulu has also been attacked and considerable damage done. This battle has been going on for nearly three hours. One of the bombs dropped within fifty feet of KTU tower. It is no joke. It is a real war–”

His hands began to tremble. War? Oh no, oh hell no. He’d had enough war in lifetime. First with Kronos and then with Gaea. He was not going to fight in another war, he wanted no part in it, especially a war against mortals. Killing insane Titans and Primordial beings was one thing, but humans? Humans who bled red? Humans in which the only difference between them is that their ambition wasn’t golden? Not humans. He’d avoided directly killing demigods, people with flesh and blood like him – maybe not like him, he felt more god than human these days, those people were more human than he was weren’t they? – before, but he had a feeling. This might not be something he could escape from. He clenched his fists as they began to tremble and the talking continued.

“The, uh…public of Honolulu has been advised to keep in their homes and away– uh from the Army and Navy. There has been serious fighting going on in the air and on the sea. The heavy shooting seems to be…”

Fuck. Was it just his mind or did everything seem to be closing in on him? It got way harder to breathe, like it was a struggle to inhale and exhale. He could feel shaking at the balls of his feet but he didn’t know where it was coming from. All he could hear was static in his ears. Was he dying? Was this the part where his life would flash before his eyes? Would he open his eyes (he doesn’t remember closing them) and be in Charon’s boat? 

“--Percy!”

Something cut through the static. It sounded familiar, the voice (not like the voices in his head– something real). He heard the voice again, calling for someone. Percy? Who was Percy? Was that him? He didn’t know. 

“Percy. You’re in New York right now and I need you to calm down sunshine.’

Annabeth? That sounded like Annabeth. But Annabeth wasn’t here, was she? (Suddenly it got a lot easier to breathe.)

“Sunshine, I need you to open your eyes.”

Well, if it was Annabeth, he could trust her. He opened his eyes hesitantly to see an IM of Annabeth in front of him. “Annabeth..” He let out a sigh, looking up at her. “... I– we’re going to have to fight. Again. Against mortals.” 

“Percy you can’t think like that.”

“Yeah, you’re right I guess.”

-

“Yesterday the Japanese Government also launched an attack against Malaya. Last night Japanese forces attacked Hong Kong: Last night Japanese forces attacked Guam. Last night Japanese forces attacked the Philippine Islands. Last night the Japanese attacked Wake Island. And this morning the Japanese attacked Midway Island.

Japan has, therefore, undertaken a surprise offensive extending throughout the Pacific area. The facts of yesterday and today speak for themselves. The people of the United States have already formed their opinions and well understand the implications to the very life and safety of our Nation.

As Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy I have directed that all measures be taken for our defense.”

Percy began packing his bags, staring at the sheet of paper on his desk. He felt a surge of rage and bitterness thinking about it. He was supposed to be done with fighting, all of this. But no, now he has to go fight for a country he’s not even sure he wants to fight for. But he has to fight, he has to fight against another evil, an evil that's not something of the godly world, but someone (thing) so terribly human it disgusts him.

“But always will our whole Nation remember the character of the onslaught against us.

No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory.

I believe that I interpret the will of the Congress and of the people when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost but will make it very certain that this form of treachery shall never again endanger us.

Hostilities exist. There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory, and our interests are in grave danger.”

He slung the bag over his shoulder with the letter in his pocket, taking – possibly – one last look at his room before closing the door. He stepped out to see his mom and Annabeth standing beside each other. He couldn’t help but smile a little as he stepped forward to kiss his mom on the cheek. “I’m gonna miss you both. Ma, don’t get all lonely without me. Don’t forget I’m an IM– or a letter – away, don’t hesitate to reach out.” He couldn’t help but be upset. Paul was at Pearl Harbor and died (in water, in his domain, in his dad’s domain. He can’t forgive himself for that) and now he was being drafted. His mom would be all alone (because of him the voice in head head helpfully supplies).

“With confidence in our armed forces with the unbounding determination of our people we will gain the inevitable triumph so help us God.”

He turned to Annabeth and cupped her face, leaning in for a passionate kiss. He could taste the coffee on her tongue as he brushed his thumb over her cheek. After kissing way too long for being in front of his mother he pulled away. “I’ll be back. I promise. Never Again remember?” He said, his voice shaky, as if he was trying to convince himself more than her. 

“Yeah.” She said back, her voice just as shaky as they pushed their foreheads together for a brief moment. Annabeth was the first one to pull back. “Go.”

“I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire.”

 February 5, 1942 Percy Jackson left for war.

[draculovemp3]

@revenge-of-the-assbutt @firstaidspray @sachermorte thank u for enabling me NEWAY since I’ve been too dead to do any of my own hobbies here’s some thoughts on House & Co’s physical hobbies/lil crafts & such they do in the comfort of their home<3:

House: canonically does a ton of shit like piano/guitar/cooking/so on but In the spirit of him resisting change (At Times!) I think he’s gotten very good if not makes a fun time out of mending clothes🥺…. Didn’t wanna throw away his favorite shirts so it started w small hems+resizings until he looked up more tips online and get decorative w it. Pretty contrasting colors/patterns now randomly laid on his shirts and pants w only the careful eye(Cuddy+Wilson) to notice. If anyone cares

Wilson: gardening. Well as much one can do within his apartments/pretty nonplant friendly homes. He’s not a super greenthumb expert but it always gives him a lil confidence boost when he’s able to grow out spices and herbs & such to use in his cooking ♥️

Cuddy: she seems like a collage-making kind of girlie💗💗 no specific theme in em or anything but she still holds onto the potential self-aid of making vision boards and it’s relaxing for her to go thru magazines/etc + cut out whatever interests her enough to use. Rachel tries and cutely fails to help 💓💓💓

Chase: ironically enough for the prodigal son lol but . He genuinely seems like someone who enjoys spending time in silence/music doing puzzles w 1000+ pieces & such #DWEEB❤️. House once got him a 5000 piece puzzle of a kangaroo or w/e as a joke and he is Determined to complete it. In due time chase…

Foreman: the thought of Foreman crocheting is so dear to me….. he doesn’t rly tell anyone ab it but there’s a lot of half-finished + worn projects as proof around his home. #angsting it sorry but I think he took it up after his mom started deteriorating bc she crocheted too and it was a fonder reminder + sumn they could do together. One yr he gave the fellow ducklings scarves he made as Xmas gift. Not that he told him he made it tho😅#repressed

Cameron: I think she has a moderately sized zen garden on a table somewhere in her home she takes SERIOUS. Changes the lines/circles in the sand periodically, sees what new arrangement of rocks she can do etc etc. Girl that thing is meant to be relaxing!! also colorcodes/sticker-covers/etc her planner like a CHAMP.

Amber: she has the most well-detailed prettiest most concerning-when-read journal/diary everrrr. Dedicates a specific time in every day to it w specific pens of various colors. Some of the recounting even have lil doodles or if she takes the journal out w her she draws her view wherever she is<3 they’re literal chickenscratch but its still fun and fulfilling. It’s a bibleesque piece to Wilson’s Amber shrine btw

Thirteen: she’s hard to analyze for me soz 13heads I do love her #trust… nonetheless I bet she goes to hella dance classes. Partially for the exercise partially for the fun partially for the need to experience Life partially for the women. Heh. She’s rly into zumba, jazz, contemporary classes to be specific.

Taub: ok ok so remember when he did/bought pottery or w/e to convince his wife he was being faithful. I think he’d do it for real as a joke/alibi then be like wait…. This is kinda fun…? There’s no constraints to what he can make + the sculpting reminds him vaguely of plastic surgery work so he keeps it up.

Kutner: I think he draws + writes his own lil comics/zines 🫶 they’re mostly scifi or superhero and more than a lil inspired by his fave preexisting medias . He likes using the crazy cases he’s experienced w House as story inspo. Also he 4 sure runs dnd campaigns so well and fun. Btw

Masters: she’s a suckerrrr for trivia nights my lil nerd wife<3 but um anyway when she wants to relax she Really doesn’t want sumn that can become info overload so in free time she’ll make friendship bracelets, lil shapes/figures out of string, etc. Will someone please give this woman a full on loom to go cray with!!!!

Park: I can see it so clearly . I can see her lil handpainted warhammer and other tabletop game figures so perfectly in my head. She paints more than she actually plays(but she does !). God save you if you touch or tumble them.

Adams: I kinda DGAF about her sorry women… hmm there’s sumn compelling ab her doing blackout poetry plus occasionally full-on written when the inspo hits! started as a boredom thing in her job in the prison w whatever book she brought in then she kept on doing it w more and more written pieces she comes across.

I put so much time into this. Perhaps too much.😭feel free to gimme y’all’s thoughts on this/ur own ideas :3

[grayson-hall]

Starter for @abe-wainwright

Where: Blue Rooster Ranch

When: Present

Despite not having lived on a farm for over 30 years and never having lived on a working ranch, Gray still remembered the lessons his own weather-worn father taught him. It was the jobs fixing barbed wire, patching up pens, and laying sheets of metal roof that reminded him of his childhood. In some ways, Gray assumed the ranchers occasionally reached out to him out of respect for his old man and his family name. That was the thing about Paxton, roots ran deep, and no one was keen on ripping them out. It was half the reason why Gray refused to leave; the other half was because if Raina ever came back her home needed to be there. Gray was standing back, hands on his hips, admiring his handiwork when footsteps drew near. Gray tipped his ball cap out of respect and held out a hand. “I think we’re all good here,” he said. “Thanks for calling me. We’re headed into slow season soon, so I appreciate it.”

[upontherisers]

11) what was your inspiration? For as few or as many as you want to talk about! consider this me picking your brain ab writing WOC OCs too

i read the Front Lines series by michael grant when i was in middle school and i was always caught on the idea of women fighting in wwii but i honestly didn't think about writing it until 2020 because BoB was a pandemic watch for me. and i lurked in the BoB fandom for a couple months debating if there was any room for a woc to tell wocs' stories but then i found @mercurygray's The Darkening Sky (how many of us started writing OCs thanks to this fic) and it gave me the push i needed to put pen to paper.

when i started, i expected very little engagement (because other fandoms i'd written in before heard the words 'of color' and tuned me out) and it was so surprising that (non-black) people wanted to interact with my writing! i don't think i'm brave or innovative for writing OCs of color because we all write what we know to a certain extent and being a woman of color is what i know. it's harder to write white characters tbh.

and every single one of my OCs come from such different places that it's impossible to synthesize their million little inspirations down to even a few bullet points but mahalia is having her moment right now so i'll walk you through her character creation of sorts.

i went through a tuskegee airmen phase in elementary school (as we all do) and when i saw the tuskegee airmen in the mota trailer, i knew i'd have a girl among them. then i forgot about mota and my girl (listen it was my last year of undergrad i was busy) until i had time to sit down and watch it and then i remembered! flyer girl!

and since she'd have to be introduced with her fellow red tails, i knew she'd need to end up in the stalag and if she was there, bucky was there and any black women who worked that hard and then had to meet john clarence egan as a prisoner of war would hate his fucking guts and what a delicious conflict that would be. she'd have to outwardly express her disdain for them to ever start beefing so i knew she had to be outspoken and there for a bit stubborn and boom. my girl was here.

everything about her after that just the natural progression of all of those things. i work backwards when fleshing out an OC: who is she now and what happens when we trace all the steps she took to get here? her name is the only thing that i got from somewhere else. she's named after the great mahalia jackson, a gospel singer.

OC brainrot asks

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 8/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

She’s in the kitchen rinsing out her coffee mug when his arm snakes around her waist. She startles a little, a shock of deja vu making her ears ring at how similar it feels to the man, and the green countertops. Cal presses the front of his body against her back and whispers in her ear. 

“Good morning, mija. How did you sleep?”

She feels herself blush a little, but she turns her head to the side and accepts his kiss. 

“Good. You?”

“So good,” he says softly, his lips held against her cheek. 

He moves away from her, filling his own mug and saying hello to the children. He takes his medication and she shakes her head to indicate that she’s already taken hers. 

“Shit, we only have one vitamin left,” he says, shaking the last one into his palm. “Can you grab some on your way home from work?”

“I have an appointment with Michelle after my shift today. I asked you to pick Peter up from daycare, remember?” she reminds him, and he nods. 

“Right, I almost forgot. We can get them tomorrow, no big deal.”

He hands the last vitamin to Peter, then ruffles Abby’s hair and steals two bites of her waffle. 

“We’re running late, Pete, gotta get a move on,” he tells the child, and soon everyone is out of the house en route to school or work. 

-

“Are there any changes since our last appointment? Anything that jumps out as worthy of discussion?”

Dana sucks in a breath and Michelle’s eyebrows lift slightly, interested. She waits patiently while Dana gathers her thoughts. 

“Cal and I—we were…intimate,” she gets out, avoiding eye contact. 

“And what was that experience like for you?” Michelle asks. 

“It was fine. It was good, actually. It was nice to be—close to him in that way. But—”

The silence stretches on, and Dana finally forces herself to look at Michelle, who has a sympathetic smile on her mouth. 

“Take as much time as you need,” she says reassuringly. 

“I had hoped that being intimate with Cal would make the dreams stop, or at least taper off in some way, but it was immediately clear that they didn’t,” Dana says in a measured, practical tone. “In fact, I had the most vivid dream I’ve had yet just after we had sex.”

Michelle straightens up in her seat, her eyebrows furrowing. 

“Really? In what sense?” she asks. 

“He spoke, and I could hear and understand him,” Dana says, staring into the distance as she recalls the dream. “Once before I was able to hear and understand something I said in a dream, but typically when he speaks there’s no sound. I heard his voice, as clear as if he were right beside me. It was actually a bit unsettling.”

“What did he say?” Michelle asks, readying her pen. 

“He…he told me he loved me. And he called me ‘Scully,’ which is my maiden name,” Dana supplies. 

“Hm,” Michelle says noncommittally. “And what do you make of that?”

“I have no idea,” Dana answers honestly. “No one has ever addressed me by my last name without any honorific. Perhaps he was a patient and said “Dr. Scully” and I just missed it. But even so, why would he say “Scully” and not “Rose”? On top of that, the idea that I’d engage in an intimate relationship with a patient is even more difficult to believe than being unfaithful to Cal.”

“This bothers you,” Michelle comments, and Dana nods tersely. 

“The inscrutable nature of it is disturbing. I have just enough information to be thoroughly confused, but not enough to actually search out any answers. At this point, I think I’d rather just know, even if it means confirming that I was unfaithful. I guess I just wish I could somehow put it to rest.”

Michelle sits back and considers her for a moment, then sets her notebook aside. 

“We could increase the dosage on your medication,” she suggests. “If you feel prepared for the possibility of remembering things that might be hard to live with.”

Dana looks at her sharply. 

“Do you think the medication is having any effect? I have yet to recall any details of my life before the accident. I was actually going to ask about discontinuing it.”

Michelle shrugs. 

“It’s hard to say, Dana. It’s still experimental at this point. But if your dreams are, as we suspect, actually memories, then it’s possible that the Numerol is what’s increasing the frequency and vividness of those dreams.”

Dana runs her thumbnail back and forth across her bottom lip, debating. What will it mean for her if she remembers more, and those memories are painful ones? But the idea of continuing like this, being haunted by her own mistakes, also feels unbearable. 

“Okay, we may as well try it,” she tells Michelle. 

“If you aren’t comfortable with the effects, we can always pull back,” Michelle assures her. “You should be able to swing by the in-house pharmacy and fill it before you go. You can start your new dose tonight, if you like.”

“I typically take it in the morning,” Dana objects, and again Michelle shrugs. 

“You can take one tonight and another in the morning. It shouldn’t hurt anything, but it’s your decision. You can wait until tomorrow if that feels more comfortable.”

That night, she stands before the mirror in the master bathroom, trailing her fingertips over the scar on her belly. The new Numerol prescription sits on the countertop, and she wonders what she might see if she takes it tonight. Will she learn the man’s name? Will she recall more clearly how they came to be? Her desire to know is in direct conflict with her desire to move on, to learn to love this life, to be happy. 

“You coming to bed, mija?” Cal calls from the other room, and she feels her body tense a little. 

“Be right there,” she answers. 

She puts on her pajamas. She brushes her teeth. She washes her face. She takes the Numerol. She goes to bed with her husband. 

She doesn’t dream. 

-

“Ms. Gibbs said we’re going to learn about the ocean today,” Abby says excitedly, her slightly sticky hand joined with Dana’s. 

“That sounds fun,” Dana comments. “My favorite sea creature is a dolphin. What’s yours?”

“I like sharks ‘cause they eat people,” Abby says, then cackles. 

They are quiet as they near the bus stop, and Dana breathes in the sweet, warm air full of the promise of summer. Abby kicks at the sidewalk, breaking off a clump of moss embedded in a crack, and Dana lets her mind wander as they wait. 

“Mommy, is my other mommy going to come back someday?” the child asks, and Dana frowns, then turns to look at her. 

“What?” she asks, thinking she misheard the question. 

“My other mommy, from before. Is she going to come back?” Abby asks with a pensive expression. 

“What do you mean, Sweetpea?”

“I like you best, I don’t want the other mommy to come back,” Abby insists with a pout. 

Dana’s throat feels tight, and adrenaline begins to course through her veins. 

“Do you mean me from before my accident?” she attempts to clarify. 

“No!” Abby shouts, frustrated. “I mean the other mommy from before. The mean mommy who is not you.”

Dana slowly crouches down in front of Abby. She feels sick and afraid. 

“When did you have a different mommy, Abby?” she asks sternly. 

Abby shrugs. 

“I dunno. Before. I don’t really remember, except that she was not nice to me.”

Dana hears the screech of brakes, and turns to see the bus approaching.

“Sweetpea,” she says, drawing Abby’s attention. “I want you to think really hard about the other mommy today, okay? And if you think of anything else, like what she looked like or anything about her, I want you to tell me when you get home from school, okay?”

“Kay, Mommy,” Abby says, unaffected by Dana’s demeanor. 

The child boards the bus and Dana waves goodbye, forcing a smile onto her mouth. As soon as it rounds the corner out of sight, she runs back to the house. 

Inside, she picks up the cordless phone and dials, pacing the kitchen as it rings. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Tiffany, this is Dana Rose.”

“Hey, Dana, what’s up?”

“I’m not going to be able to come in today. Something came up that I need to deal with. Can you please let Dr. Polinkus know?”

“Sure, I’ll let him know. Is everything okay?”

A pause. 

“Yes, I think so. Thank you.”

She hangs up and dials again. She sits down at one of the chairs along the island but immediately stands again, her body a jumble of nerves. 

“Scully residence.”

“Mom, it’s Dana. Are you at home today?”

“Hi, Dana, it’s nice to hear from you. Yes, I’m at home, why?”

“Can I come over? Would that be okay?”

“...Sure, Dana, you’re always welcome. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, I think so. I’ll be there within the hour. Bye, Mom.”

During the forty minute drive to Bethesda, her mind races with all the possible explanations for what Abby said. A nanny? A mistress of Cal’s? A child’s imagination? Children are prone to all kinds of fantasy and half-truths, and she shouldn’t put as much stock into the comment as she is. But still, something in the corner of her mind is screaming at her that it’s not meaningless, and she feels more than ever as though she needs to understand what happened before her accident, to fill in the missing pieces. 

By the time she arrives, the initial panic has worn away into an unsettling sense of disorientation as acute as the day she left the hospital. The sense of security and stability she’s been carefully building suddenly feels shaky and unstable, and she longs for the feeling of happiness and normalcy that had so recently seemed within reach. 

She knocks, and Maggie opens the door and immediately reaches for her, seeing the defeated look on her face. 

“Dana, what happened?” she asks, ushering her daughter into the sitting room. 

Tears flood her throat, and suddenly she is a child again, weeping at her mother’s feet. 

“I feel like I don’t know what’s real, Mom,” she sobs, and Maggie rubs wide circles over her back. 

“I’m going to put some coffee on,” she says with an air of practicality. “Whatever it is, we’ll work it out.”

A pot of coffee becomes lunch, and then tea, as Dana fills Maggie in on all that’s been happening, and just how lost she still feels. They are seated in two matching armchairs near the bay windows as Dana picks at a slice of lemon and repeats what Abby said at the bus stop. 

“Dana, children say all kinds of outlandish things,” Maggie says sympathetically. “You once swore up and down that you were a member of the Partridge Family and demanded that your father deliver you back to them.”

Dana smiles sheepishly and shakes her head. 

“I know I’m blowing it way out of proportion. There are just so many things that I still don’t know, so much I can’t remember. It’s hard to brush it off when I don’t have anything to counter it. I’m not sure if that even makes any sense,” she says as she sets her teacup on a small table perched between them. 

“What else is bothering you? Anything I can help with?” Maggie asks. 

“It’s honestly everything, Mom,” Dana says with a defeated sigh. “It’s like this giant black hole of information. I don’t have any context for anything, my life feels like an inside joke that I’m not privy to. And I have all these scars—it’s just…it’s a lot.”

“The scar on your stomach?” Maggie asks, and Dana nods. 

“I know it happened at work and involved a patient, but you can’t imagine how strange it is to have a massive injury like that and not remember any of it,” Dana says. 

“To be honest, Dana, I’m glad you don’t remember it,” Maggie says gently. “A man held you hostage for hours in the ER, along with several other people. The police tried to ambush him but he got spooked and he shot you. It was over an hour before you were able to get help. We thought you were going to die.”

Dana feels a flush of guilt. She’d never considered that some of her memories might be best left forgotten. 

“Are there other scars?” Maggie asks, moving on from that subject. 

“Lots of small ones. But there’s a little raised bump on my neck back here,” Dana says as she touches the scar she only discovered last week. “I can’t see it very well, but it looks like a surgical scar. It’s a clean cut.”

Maggie shakes her head with a small smile.

“You need to ask about these things, Dana,” she says as she reaches over and pats her daughter on the knee. “That’s your Manatua virus vaccine scar. We all have them.”

Maggie turns in her seat and moves her hair aside. Dana leans forward, examining the tiny pink line in Maggie’s skin at the base of her neck. She touches it, feeling a small lump just beneath the surface. 

“Manatua virus?” she repeats, and Maggie sighs. 

“Yes, it was awful. There was an outbreak in Texas and it spread across the US so quickly everyone was panicking. The mortality rate was so high, and those who survived were horribly disfigured. I’m telling you, Dana, you should be glad that you don’t remember some of these things.”

“When did this happen?” Dana asks, sitting back. 

“A couple years ago. The effort to produce a vaccine was very well funded, thankfully, and everyone was lined up around the block to get one within six months. The vaccine was awful, though. People were vomiting, passing out. It was so painful, they started using general anesthesia to administer it. But the virus was so aggressive, it had to be done.” 

“Abby and Peter got them too?” Dana asks, and Maggie nods. 

“I’m glad you don’t remember that, Dana,” she says gravely. “It’s traumatizing, as a mother, to have to put your child through something like that.”

Maggie stands and goes to the stereo, ejecting the disc changer and loading up a suite of new CD’s. 

“Are you staying for dinner?” Maggie asks with her back to her daughter, but Dana can hear the judgment in her tone. She needs to go home to her family. 

“No, I need to head back soon so I’m there when Abby gets off the bus,” she says, and Maggie nods approvingly.

“Let me go wrap up some of that banana bread for you to take home,” she says with a pat to Dana’s shoulder before she disappears into the kitchen. 

Dana watches out the window as two birds fight over the feeder, flapping their wings in an attempt to knock each other off. Fighting for resources, for survival. The instinct to survive is so basic to all living things, she thinks. The CD player clicks and whirs as the next disc is moved into position. 

Darling you send me. I know you send me. Darling you send me, honest you do. 

It feels as though a vat of hot oil has been poured over her head. It sends a shock wave of heat through her, every hair on her body standing at attention and her heart lurching into a galloping rhythm. 

You thrill me. I know you, you, you thrill me. Darling you, you, you thrill me. Honest you do. 

She feels his arms around her waist, his lips pressed to hers. She feels the rumble of his voice and she hears him, actually hears him singing to her. 

At first I thought it was infatuation. But oooo it’s lasted so long. Now I find myself wanting to marry you, and take you home. 

Those mossy green eyes, that impish smile. The music, she hears the music as they dance and kiss and fumble towards the bedroom. 

“Dana?” Maggie says, and she looks over to see her mother watching her with a concerned expression. “Are you all right?”

“What is this song?” she asks, her throat tight. 

“I think it’s Sam Cooke. I’m not sure what the song is. Why?”

“Do I know this song?” Dana asks, her breath coming out in pants. 

“I don’t know, Dana. It’s a very old song, I’m sure you’ve heard it at some point or another. Is something the matter?”

“I don’t know,” Dana says uneasily as the song comes to an end. “I don’t know.”

-

She’s wiping down the kitchen counters when Cal comes downstairs. 

“Both asleep,” he says as he retrieves a beer from the fridge. “Did you pick up vitamins?”

“No, sorry. I guess I forgot,” she answers flatly, running the sponge over the same spot over and over. 

“No big, we can get ‘em tomorrow,” he answers, then takes a seat at one of the barstools. He watches her for a moment, sipping his beer. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she says, not meeting his eye. 

“You sure? You seem kind of…I don’t know, off,” he says carefully. 

She moves to the sink and rinses out the sponge, contemplating. Just ask, her mother had said about her missing memories. 

“Actually, I heard a song today that felt familiar. It threw me off a bit.” She turns around and leans against the counter, facing him. “Can I play it for you?”

“Of course,” he says, looking concerned. 

She retrieves the borrowed CD from her purse. She’d listened to it over and over on the drive back from Bethesda, her bones buzzing at the way it brought her dreams to life. She pops it into the CD player in the living room and hits play, watching Cal’s reaction. 

Darling you send me. I know you send me. Darling you send me, honest you do.  

Cal listens with a neutral expression. After a few minutes, the song ends and she ejects the CD, returning it to its case. 

“Do you know it?” she asks, feeling nervous. 

“I don’t think so,” he answers. “I may have heard it before, but no specific instances that I can recall. Why?”

“I don’t know,” she says, dropping her head. “Maybe it’s nothing, it just feels so familiar.”

“Did you have the same feeling when you heard Sweet Caroline?” he asks, and she lifts her head to find a moderately wounded expression on his face. 

“I’m not sure,” she admits guiltily. “But you had told me about the significance of that song before I listened to it, so that may have impacted my response.”

Cal nods and takes a long pull from his beer. 

She crosses the room and steps up behind him, and he startles a little as she tugs on the collar of his T-shirt to expose the back of his neck. There’s a small pink scar, just like hers, at the base of it.

“What are you doing?” Cal asks, confused, and she wraps her arms around his shoulders. 

“I think I just had a weird day, memory wise,” she says, resting her cheek against his. “Can we go to bed?”

“Sure, mija. I’m just going to finish my beer, but I’ll see you up there in a few.”

“Okay,” she says with a small smile and a kiss. 

She lays awake for hours, watching the swell of headlights on the ceiling each time a car drives down the street. Finally, exhaustion overtakes her and she sleeps fitfully, waking each time Cal changes position or a dog barks next door. She waits for her dream to come to her, for some additional information or clarity, but it never does. She watches the yellow haze of sunrise fill up the room with bloodshot, weary eyes. She feels more lost than ever.  

Tagging @today-in-fic

[tonberry-yoda]

SPEAKING OF STUDYING😭😭

I also wanted to submit smth else yippee

Ofc its gyro again its me were talking ab🙏

Idk if its like modern au or smth so we can make this work but yeah ill leave that to u💯

Soo to get to the point Gyro w a fem reader who cannot focus on her homework even if she rlly wants to like zoning out etc (adhd moment hahahahaha send help😻) and is frustrated about it (im gonna pull my hair out im so mad with my brain rn😻🙏)

SO YEAH THATS BASICALLY IT FOR MY ADHD GYRO LOVERS OUT THERE 😘😘(its me)

Yippee TY FOR UR TIME UR WORKS R TRULY AMAZING also keep an eye out for more dpf as soon as im done w exams hehe🤭🤭

Distractions - Gyro Zeppeli

notes - AHHHH DIEGOSAUR MY BELOVED! I have had a CRAZY Gyro brainrot as of late and remembered this was here, so I thought it would also be a nice short fic to get me out of a block! Thanks so much for the request and I hope you're doing well <3 word count - 328 summary - (modern AU) You are stressed out for exams coming up and keep getting distracted. But luckily, your boyfriend, Gyro, is willing to help you study

You chewed on the end of your pen and zoned out for.... what was it.... the fifteenth time now?!

You groaned at yourself, nearly feeling like you were losing your mind.

College was getting too damn stressful and it didn't help that you had to work a job and exams were coming up.

"Hey, I'm back." You heard Gyro enter your shared dorm, placing his keys in the bowl in front of the door. "How're you doin' pumpkin?"

"Fine." you said rather passive aggressively, making Gyro giggle.

"You don't sound fine." he said.

"I just can't focus and it's pissing me off. Stupid brain." You rested your hands on your head.

"Do you need help?" he asked super nicely.

"You would do that? I mean, I know you're busy with your internship and-"

"Look," he interrupted, placing a little kiss on your lips. "If we cut up time into sections, that might help. I can study with you for 45 minutes and then we can watch TV and cuddle for... lets say... 20 minutes, and then back to studying."

You thought about it in your head. Not only would that help you a lot, but you would get the reward of cuddling your boyfriend.

"Sounds good!" You high fived him and quickly got to work. Whenever you would space out, Gyro would be able to help get you back on track or know when a break was in order. He was so used to doing things like this by himself that helping you was a piece of cake.

The breaks consisted of TV and dinner, and finally, you felt succeeded in your studying, not scared for your exams one bit.

"You ready to cuddle then?" Gyro smirked.

"Yes please." You hugged around the back of his neck and pressed a kiss to his ear.

He carried you upstairs and the two of you fell asleep with smiles on your faces.

You were ready to kick that exam's ass.

~~~~~

jjba masterlist (2) (3) | pinned post

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated <3

~~~~~

[snezandsickheadcanons]

@snzfeels I’m your secret santa for @softsnzstuff ‘s exchange! When I saw you list FM//AB on your possible fandoms I jumped at the chance to write some Ro//yai. So, here’s some sick, sneezing colonel with a very concerned lieutenant

Protection from the Rain

The sound of a sniffle.

It was quiet, so much so in fact that Riza wasn’t completely sure she hadn’t just imagined it. The rain was pouring down outside so much anyway that it muffled everything else. 

The early winter rain was icy and cold, falling in drops large enough to chill your bones in just a few seconds. Riza remembered how, even with an umbrella, the rain had filled her with a lonely melancholy on the way to work.

Perhaps weather like this was bound to gray anyone’s mood. No one more so, of course, than the Flame Alchemist himself. 

The colonel had been working silently at his desk all morning, actually doing his paperwork for once. In fact, she’d barely heard any complaints from him. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say that he was trying to keep quiet about something—

Another sniffle.

Riza had definitely heard that one. She looked back towards the colonel, who was continuing to write as if nothing had happened. 

It seemed he’d caught her staring. “Is something the matter, Lieutenant?” he asked, keeping his eyes down on his desk. Ah, and it seemed his voice had cracked down half an octave as well.

“Nothing, sir.” The moment had nearly passed when she couldn’t resist adding, “It seems you forgot my reminder to wear a coat yesterday, is all.”

Roy frowned and at last looked up at her. “That seems a bit out of line. I don’t see what that has to do with anything. Now, why don’t you go along and follow my example and get your own work done.” He grew an obnoxious grin. “Now, I know you admire me and everything, but really there’s nothing to—HeehhSHHUH!” 

And there it was. That was all the confirmation Riza needed. She didn’t attempt to hide a playful smile of her own as she picked up her pen. “Bless you,” she said.

Pouting (he would have insisted it was just a frown, but Riza knew otherwise), Roy sniffled again and cleared his throat. It seemed now that his secret was out, he could stop the stoic, diligent facade, and reclaim his place as Amestris’s highest-ranking manchild. 

They went back to their work, with Riza now also keeping an eye on him. She did her own assignments too, of course, as unlike some people (for example Roy Mustang), she was excellent at multitasking. The room returned to the muted sound of heavy rain, with not another word spoken between them, save for sneezes and bless yous.

Eventually, after more sniffles, it seemed Roy could no longer deny to himself that he needed a tissue. He got up from his desk to cross the long walk of shame over to the tissue box by the wall, refusing to look towards Riza on the way over. 

After blowing his nose, he returned to his desk as if nothing had happened. However, several more times he rose to his feet like this, until eventually he gave in and brought the entire box back with him.

By this time it was nearly lunch, so they each put down their work and made their way to the mess hall. Upon arriving, though, they went their separate ways. As Roy stood in line to get food, he watched with confusion as Riza went to the kitchen to speak to someone on duty.

As Riza took a seat at their table a few minutes later, she set down a cup of herbal tea next to the colonel’s plate. It had a pleasant-smelling, nutty aroma, which brought back memories of cozy fireplaces. It also wasn’t something listed on the usual menu, so it was clear it had been specifically asked for.

“Really, Lieutenant, I’m fine,” Roy huffed.

“The stuffiness of your voice says otherwise. Now, drink your tea.” 

A fellow soldier seated next to them laughed. “It seems you two have this down to a science!” 

Riza nodded as she took her own seat, and began cutting her chicken. “We’ve had plenty of practice, with him catching a cold every time it rains.”

“It’s not every time…” mumbled Roy.

Still, despite his grumbles, he did drink his tea, pausing to sniffle after each sip. It was his actual food he ended up barely touching. Riza eyed each untouched pea with a watchful stare, keeping track of every push of a fork her commander made. 

Upon returning to their office after lunch, the window showed that the rain had not let up during their absence. It felt as if they had never left, with the room trapped in a limbo of damp gloominess. The mess hall had been a touch warmer due to its location in the building and large amount of living bodies inside. So it was this contrast, surely, that made the office now feel even colder than it had this morning. With no sun to warm it through the windows, the plain, military furniture was, too, like ice.

The first thing Roy did as they stepped back in was to shiver, though in a much deeper, heavier way than seemed appropriate. Giving another quick sneeze, he rubbed his nose and took his seat at his desk. 

As the afternoon wore on, the frequency and volume of Roy’s sneezes began to increase. They went from one every thirty minutes or so—

“EhhkKSHHUH!”

To two every twenty—

“Heh…H’ngSHHH! EHKSHHOO!”

 To now at least three per ten minutes. 

“Nn’kSHOO! ESHHOO! Hnnk’SHHUH!”

Still, the colonel continued to do his work. Honestly, with how much he usually dodged his reports, it seemed like he took doing it now of all times as a challenge of some sort.

No matter how many times Riza said “bless you”, the tone of her voice did not change. The amount of “I told you so” coming through in each one remained small. She was spreading it out, not going all in too fast. She did not get tired of saying it, though at this point he might be tired of hearing it. 

On what felt like what must be her hundredth time saying it that day, she wordlessly got up from her seat and went to the closet. She rummaged around for a moment, then went to place a new, unopened box of tissues on her superior officer’s desk. “It seemed like you were running out.”

For the first time that day, color rose to Roy’s cheeks. He cleared his throat, which turned into an actual series of coughs, and fiddled with the box with his hand. “Thank you,” he said.

“Take care of yourself, sir. It would be unwise to ignore your health.”

With a coarse, gravel-like laugh, Roy replied, “Really, it’s not a big deal. I’m fine.”

And so, more time passed. 

As a sniper, Riza had full confidence in her ability to judge things from a distance. Her work made her patient, and allowed for her to keep both a steady hand and a steady head. To observe a situation from afar and note the smallest, minute detail was as simple to her as brushing her teeth. So it was very clear when, a mere hour before it was time to go home, the colonel’s movements started to become sluggish. 

It was fairly subtle. Perhaps he hadn’t even noticed it himself, as he was continuing to fill out reports smoothly, but it was very clear to her. The time he spent reading each page increased, as did the speed at which he wrote. He even seemed to be blinking more slowly and more often. When combined with his constant sneezes, his eyes were almost closed more often than not. 

Perhaps this alone could point to a more normal exhaustion; the weather certainly had Riza fighting off the urge to yawn. However, the additional evidence of the very lightest sheen of sweat on his brow and the shivers almost as common as his sniffles told of another, more troubling explanation. 

“Hnn…HnCHHUH! Heh…heSHHOO!” 

He was in the midst of another batch of sneezes, waiting for the third one to come as he held a tissue to his face (which was now forced to be there essentially all the time), when Riza decided to make her move. She rose from her chair again, and by the time the colonel was done with the fit, she was standing right in front of him.

“Please forgive me for the transgression I’m about to perform, sir.”

Before he could even reply, she’d placed her hand on his forehead. 

“Lieutenant…!”

Riza narrowed her eyes as her brow crinkled into a furrow. “You’re running a fever. Perhaps you should go to the doctor.”

Roy batted her hand away. “It’s only a cold,” he said, probably not even realizing that he was, at last, admitting it. “The only thing for it is to go sleep it off, anyway.”

“Then perhaps you should leave early and head home.”

“Really, there’s no need. I’m fine,” he said. Then in a mumble, “Like you said, this happens nearly every time the weather’s bad.”

Pulling back her hand and folding it behind her back in the true military manner, Riza calmly said, “I would have thought the Flame Alchemist of all people would jump at the chance to get out of work and be taken care of by a woman.”

“Heh!” Roy scoffed, seeming to call her bluff. “Oh, surely. If there was such a woman available.” 

Riza remained still, her eyes closed.

Roy sniffled and stared at her smugly, until, at last, it seemed to hit him. His eyes widened as he sputtered out a cough. “Ah…”

“Well, Colonel?”

He glanced down at his desk. The report he’d been working on sat there staring back. The smudged ink line of his unfinished sentence was winking coyly.

Looking slightly sheepish, Roy covered the paper with his hand and pushed it aside. “Well, Breda has had a little too much free time anyway s-so…heh…”

Riza plucked a tissue from the box and handed it to him.

“EhhsHHUEW! Ungh…” 

“Bless you, sir.”

With a tired sigh, Roy blew his nose. He stood from his desk, a little too fast, as he quickly began to sway.

Placing a steady hand against his back, Riza leaned in close to support him. “Please be careful, sir.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” 

They went to get their coats, Riza watching with her hawk’s eye to make sure Roy buttoned his up all the way. Perhaps that had been the cause of this, perhaps not, but the weather outside hadn’t let up. 

As they closed the office door behind them, Roy rubbed his nose and asked, “Lieutenant, would it be possible to get more of that tea? My throat is killing me…”

Giving one last little smile to herself, Riza replied, “Of course, sir. I’ll make sure to protect you from the rain, too, on the way home.”

[moodindigov]

celia charity brightwell; my personal view on her words in s&p and her character.

okay tbh idk if this has ever been brought up before and tbf i havent looked into it yet because this thought just came so suddenly to me while i was reading ash and quill for like the eighteen billionth time, but can we talk about celia charity whatever her name is brightwell? like can we talk about her bond with her sons being literally non existent. (read more bcs i won’t make u scroll past this post for 2 seconds when u can scroll past it in like a quarter of that time.)

genuinely think about it, celia brightwell is ‘a dutiful mother but never a loving one’ and suddenly this all changes because she’s lost almost all her kids..like i get that we can’t see her inner thoughts or monologue from her or anything, and i understand that she may have been going through her own share of the struggle of fighting back trauma and getting enough strength to do this, but i personally cannot see jess truly forgiving her for what she’s done—or for that matter, what she hasn’t done that so deeply hurt him that in a&q when asked for his mother’s jewels by thomas, jess promptly responds that he’s ‘lucky to have a thief for a friend.’ and when wolfe overhears his schemes with khalila and dario and shows jess that if we would’ve just asked celia charity whats-her-name for the jewels, she would’ve gladly given them over, he has this reaction of just pure anguish and fury; how can wolfe be so sure? how could wolfe understand what he went through, and even more so, how can he just talk about his mother as if she ever truly loved him, cared for him as a mother should, when throughout his eighteen years of living and struggling to keep himself above water from the storm that callum’s made of his life, she’s simply been an entity in his life. there but not present in his life, a shadow. something not physically attainable to hold and ground himself to a reality - and it’s that real sort of reaction from jess who’s just at this point completely given up on the hope of receiving motherly love from this enigma in his life, knowing he probably should give up hope that she’d treat him with any sort of actual care because he knows he’d just be disappointed with the outcome, and yet still holding onto that fragile piece that maybe she could. i personally feel like the end of sword and pen where jess just automatically declares his love for her is so inaccurate and imo so rushed i feel to get a sort of happy ending for the brightwell family. and like i said earlier, we don’t know at all what celia was going through and i understand it would’ve taken time for her to build up the courage to stand up to callum herself, but its so sporadic in the end, so- abrupt, that it seems not really fleshed out enough to truly be something anyone would consider forgiving in the moment, but we’ll give jess benefit of the doubt. he’s still freshly grieving morgan and his twin (i should probably write something ab that too) so maybe his reaction to just immediately cling onto a semblance of love someone from his blood family could offer was more instinctual, more him trying to grasp that feeling that no one in his family could’ve given him up until that point. but even then, even when charity couldn’t stand up to callum and his cruel ways and couldn’t get herself out from under his boot, it didn’t leave her unable to bond with her sons. it didn’t suddenly stop her from getting the chance to at least try and protect them from what she knew was going on, what they were going through. and at the beginning of the series i just assumed she rarely even cared for them, because remember callum only married her for money and power and probably some other toxic and self-centered desire i can’t think of, but when it’s revealed she does care for them, it makes it even more confusing. did she not talk to them in hopes of them just never bonding so she could, at least maybe for a small time, ignore the mistake she’d made of marrying callum and the consequences that came with it, and suddenly when she’s ready to acknowledge those consequences, she comes to jess’ aid? was it for some desire that maybe she could protect them? i just dont get it.

[jurousei]

The Wedding Planner

↳ Fandom: VALORANT

↳ Pairing: Chamber x Viper; Chiper; Bitemark

↳ Warnings: None.

↳ Description: Vincent Fabron is the owner of Romantique, a classy boutique focused on making wedding creams come true. Despite the romantic occupation, he has the worst luck in finding romance for himself, and he’s slowly giving up hope in romance overall. That is, until Sabine Callas walks in, and Vincent wonders if this who he’s been looking for this entire time.

↳ Notes: Due to weird tumblr issues, I cannot link properly. But this can also be found on AO3, under my same username!

Friday, April 28th, 1:00 pm.

Romantique was located at the corner of a small yet busy business plaza, sandwiched between a nail salon and a records store. Founded half a decade ago, Vincent was the owner and sole employee of the business. Though a grueling start, his passion project turned into a living eventually, and now he was an established wedding planner with a heft of experience under his belt.

“Do come in, take a seat anywhere! I take you have exciting news?”

Vincent watched two women shuffled into his office, their hands remaining clasped together as they took a seat on the couch in front of Vincent’s large, mahogany desk. ‘Cute. Sweet. Almost too sweet,’ he thought at the sight of them actively working around the handholding rather than letting go.

The young couple entering was in their late twenties. The woman that sat on the left — ‘Zyanya,’ if Vincent remembered correctly — boasted tan skin and sharp features, her hair pulled into a ponytail with the ends dyed magenta; she donned a sleeveless, black turtleneck that showed off her muscled arms splattered with. An intimidating sight compared to her companion, in a baby blue dress covered in white polka dots and shiny, black hair in a high ponytail. Her eyes were aqua and bright, looking at Vincent with a friendly light in her eyes. He smiled when they settled comfortably on the dark blue couch, an arm slung over Ling’s shoulder instead now, and looked towards him.

“Welcome to Romantique, a boutique dedicated to making wedding dreams come true!” He sang the last few words like a jingle as Ling clapped politely. “Thank you, thank you. How may I be of help to you today, my friends?” His eyes twinkled, excited for the upcoming news based on the smile on Ling’s face. Normally a stoic person, it was always interesting what could get Ling to emote so much.

She stuck her hand up, palm facing her, and Vincent watched a dainty sparkle catch in the light. Zyanya followed suit, and as they stuck their hands out closer for Vincent to inspect, he crooned at the matching set of diamond engagement rings. A turn of the hand, and their initials with maiden names were carved into the band. Ling blushed. “I got engaged, Vincent. She proposed last week, and you’re the first to know besides family.”

“My congratulations, ladies! You’re looking for help with regards to a wedding then, yes?” At the nod from both women, he pulled a small, gridded notebook from a desk drawer alongside a blue ballpoint pen. A few clicks, and he scribbles their names down with a heart followed after. “This is fantastic news! How did she propose? Simple, extravagant? Public, private?”

Zyanya grinned now. “Extravagantly, of course. Nothing but the best for mi corazon.” She hugged her fiancée tighter, and Vincent laughed at Ling’s flustered expression. She batted Zyanya’s shoulder lightly, as if a warning, but Zyanya ignored it and bragged, “We took a trip to the coast and rented a small space to stay in. Took her exploring for a few days to distract her, then on a boat for a special dinner, I proposed! Her face, Vincent, if only you could’ve seen it…”

“Oh, to see stoic Ling be overcome with glee…did she cry tears of joy?”

“A bit,” Zyanya nodded. “She couldn’t speak clearly for a few minutes, she only stared at the ring.” Her chest puffed out in pride. Ling swatted at said chest, the tips of her ears burning bright red now. Zyanya continued further about the special night, until the mention of ‘bed’ was heard, and Vincent double-taked.

“Enough now, please,” Ling requested with a soft frown. She must have caught it too. “We’re getting distracted from the goal of today’s meeting.”

“I am sorry, mi corazon,” Reyna cooed. Vincent’s tooth ached at the tone.

“My apologies. I am merely excited and happy for you,” Vincent said. He tried to be as genuine as possible in his life, and now was no exception, especially to a person he had grown quite fond of. “How time flies by! I remember first meeting you in my time of great, great need, and now I’m witnessing your engagement.” He grinned and cleared his throat.

“Pardonnez-moi. Now then, when do you plan to get married? Cost? Venues? Themes?” He rattled off some more questions in a rush before finishing off with, “or just give me all of the information you have available” at the irritated and confused expression on Zyanya’s face.

Zyanya scowled, still seemingly processed some of the questions Vincent had listed, as Ling patted her shoulder with a fond smile. The Mexican woman ended up settling on, “I want to do whatever Ling wants.”

Ling stammered, a first in the time Vincent had known her, and it was endearing, this dynamic. Zyanya who was all sharp edges and a bite to her tone, and Ling who was soft but resolute like a quiet force of nature; both had a heart of gold for the other. Vincent’s heart ached with something. He wondered if his swipes resetted yet.

“Well, er, there is one thing I’d like to have if nothing else,” Ling confessed. Her free hand fiddled with a stray fiber from the couch, and she shifted her weight. Vincent’s ears perked up. “I’d like to have a tattoo parlor for a venue.”

A beat of silence. Vincent’s eyebrows furrowed. “Pardonnez-moi, did you say you wanted a tattoo parlor to be your wedding venue?”

“Yes, I have a specific location too, if that’s okay?”

Right, a tattoo parlor. That… was a new one.

As the owner and sole employee of Romantique, Vincent expected himself to uphold the utmost, highest standard of customer service. As the person responsible for one of the biggest milestones in the client’s life, he refused to voice judgment on any ideas unless it was truly terrible. He was hired to create a majestic event for his client, and by god, if Vincent wasn’t going to make it the best he could.

Sometimes, though, wedding ideas could get a little interesting — like now, for instance.

Vincent cleared his throat, accidentally coughing in actuality instead, and said, “A new adventure for me! Let us discuss the idea. We would have to get permission, of course, but we can also have alternatives in place!”

“I’ve already obtained permission from the owner. The shop is Viper’s Ink, right next to Porter’s House of Flowers.” Ling chuckled, as if a funny inside joke with herself, adding, “It’s the business that we share a lobby with after all.

The latter business’s name was familiar. That was his own friend in front of him’s flower shop she worked at, and the flower shop he signed on to be a main provider of flower arrangements for his events. After saving him during a predicament, he had signed them on after a brief trial period, and now he couldn't imagine not having a dedicated provider. It had saved him numerous times over the course of the last three years. Ling created beautiful arrangements, with Vincent having commissioned her work for personal use in the past.

He must have not hidden the confusion well enough though, regarding the tattoo shop, because Ling frowned and inquired, “Did you not notice?”

Vincent stayed silent, but he could feel the apples of his cheeks start to burn.

Truth be told, Vincent was possibly a disaster when it came to existing in everyday life. He was a smart man, a former engineer that quickly rose through the ranks at the time, but he was clueless sometimes. Free body diagrams and calculus problem sets were his favorite past times, but remembering to pay attention to places was too difficult of a task. It was just background art to him.

Ling sighed, exasperated but slightly unsurprised sounding. Almost endeared, if Vincent was reaching a little. “It’s the business we share a lobby with,” she repeated, “and it was where we first met. Alongside other important memories, it became a special place for us.” She squeezed Zyanya’s hand, and Vincent felt his own heart get squeezed when Zyanya returned the small action. “I can get you in contact with the owner, Sabine. Sabine Callas, and perhaps discuss face to face? She mentioned she wanted an involved opinion on her place as a venue.”

‘Shit.’

Vincent didn’t want to deal with another pair of eyes overseeing him, knowing well that people just got in the way under the guise of ‘overseeing’ the project. Vincent was capable of monitoring himself, and oftentimes, it felt like an insult to his capacity as a wedding planner when the client began to micromanage. Either manage it by one’s self at the start or leave it to the expensive planner hired, Vincent grumbled. That was typically how it went.

Sabine, in this case, was a vendor, and Vincent would have to play nice to get what the client wanted exactly. This request was more than reasonable too, considering the woman’s entire business was being requested as a venue, but it was still a possible extra obstacle. He would give the owner of the tattoo shop the benefit of the doubt for now, unfortunately, and pray that she wouldn't interfere with his workflow.

That was what he would do. He would hold his tongue for now and set up a meeting with Sabine, then he’d gauge the situation from there — considering the request was reasonable, maybe the owner was as well. He had no choice but to wait until he set up a meeting in person.

Vincent mustered up a smile after thinking through his next steps for this wedding. “That works for me.” He wrote a few lines of notes, slightly smeared from the drag of his left hand, in his messy cursive. “Now then, could I grab her information? Then we can discuss other details of your wedding.”

//

Monday, May 1st, 11:30am.

Vincent stared at the most recent notebook he started for his client. A simple, one-subject notebook with a black plastic cover, Vincent decorated the cover with holographic, purple alphabet stickers. It spelled out ‘Ling and Zyanya Wedding: June 8th, next year’ in the chicken scratch equivalent of stickering.

Inside contained everything he wrote down and everything that he would ever write down over the course of the job. A means of keeping things organized originally, it quickly became a good way of keeping track of a client’s needs as well as creating a sort of journal about the experience behind the client. It was an amalgam of many things — journal, workbook, scrapbook. Whatever anyone deemed it as, it was undoubtedly crucial to Vincent’s effectiveness and investment as a wedding planner.

Within the first few pages of the notebook was the dog-eared page of a woman named Sabine Callas. Her name was written in red Sharpie and highlighted, and it imbued the same dreadful feeling as if one was about to face a judge at court. Vincent was afraid of her judgment at the end of this face-to-face meeting, if he would be able to make his client’s dreams come true.

“Non, Vincent,” he grumbled, shaking his head. He couldn’t think like that, not when nothing was certain yet; he hadn’t even met the owner! No, this sort of thinking was terrible, and it would get him nowhere in his mission to create a meaningful wedding. He would be successful. He had to be successful for his client, and in this case, his friend as well.

Every jingle of the coffee shop’s bell over the doorway attracted Vincent’s attention, and with every person who did not fit the description given to her, his eyes returned to the clock. It was 11:57am, and they had agreed on a meeting time of noon over emails the other day. On his screen was the very email chain.

Ms. Sabine Callas typed properly. Succinct but polite, she wasted no in time sending all her information and her expectations for the process. No exclamation marks or smiley faces like Vincent included in his emails, but she wasn’t necessarily cold either. Scheduling was a breeze with her, and Vincent’s hopes were starting to look up after the interaction.

The exact email on his laptop screen was the last one exchanged between them, where she had described herself in a rather…confident manner.

From: Sabine Callas (sabcallas@vipersink.com)

Subject: Meeting for Ling and Zyanya’s Wedding Venue

Vincent,

Noon tomorrow will work. As for my appearance, I am pale and tall at 6’0”. Black hair in a short bob cut with green eyes. This will be enough to find me.

Best,

Sabine Callas

Another jingle, another look away from the screen, and—

“Madame Callas!”

Vincent raised his hand, calling out with a friendly grin and wave. The woman was right. After what seemed to the nth person coming through, a woman fitting the description sent over by the woman herself walked in, and Vincent trusted the gut feeling — no one else had come close to her description eerily.

As Vincent stood up, he took stock of the woman that walked towards him. At six feet, Sabine was the same height as Vincent and seemed to be covered in lean muscle. She wore a dark green, thin sweater with what seemed to be a small viper logo for a design on the front, and a pair of straight-legged and pressed, black slacks swaying over a pair of black combat boots. Slung diagonally across her body was a shoulder bag, an emerald green shade instead.

Sabine Callas truly was difficult to miss.

Vincent watched the woman take the seat across from him, and she began to set up on her side of the table. While he had out a notebook and his laptop, Sabine took only only a small tablet and a pencil, as well as her phone. From the small glimpse of the screen Vincent saw before she tilted the screen away, Vincent knew she was taking her own notes.

“Vincent Fabron, yes?”

“Yes, that’s me. And you are Sabine Callas, judging from your response to my call earlier,” he said. Meant to be light-hearted, a way to break the ice and test out the waters that was Sabine, Vincent was disappointed by the lack of response besides a nod. Not much to work with. “Very nice to meet you, Zyanya talked quite a bit about you.”

Sabine’s eyes flickered with pride. ‘Ah, that was a reaction,’ Vincent noted.

“It’s nice to meet you as well. As for Zyanya, we’ve simply known each other for a while,” Sabine explained with ease. She was writing something on her screen, and Vincent panicked lightly; should he have been writing something down already? What could Sabine be writing already? “Tell me about yourself, Vincent. I’d like to get to know you more.”

And damn, if that didn’t sound like a perfect distraction as well as an invitation for Vincent’s favorite hobby: talking about himself.

“I am the owner of Romantique, where wedding dreams come true,” he repeated the slogan to the tune of a jingle with a smile, only to be disappointed when Sabine hummed in acknowledgement and continued writing down notes. If he was a little less professional, he would pout lightly right now. “I was hired to help plan a wedding by some of your friends, and I was roped into discussing your tattoo shop as a possible venue? Ling said she received permission already.”

At that, Sabine raised her head from the tablet to meet Vincent’s eyes. Her lips were pursed into a confused frown. “What sort of permission?”

Sahine was already a sight to behold upon initial entry. Now that Vincent was closer up, he could see the tinier details about the woman. She really was pale, but it created a strong contrast against her jet-black hair, sleek and smooth in a short haircut. Side strands framed her face, and Vincent noticed the spattering of freckles across her nose.

Then frankly, while green eyes were an accurate description, it was one hell of a simplification. Sabine had magnificently glimmering eyes that were the exact shade of emerald, just like the very bag she brought to the meeting. Vincent idly wondered how much gemstones of that caliber would cost.

“Vincent?”

Vincent startled; he hadn’t realized he was staring into her eyes nor that she was asking for a response. With a chuckle, he scratched at the back of his head. “My apologies. I was lost admiring your eyes,” he joked, hoping she wouldn’t realize the real joke was Vincent’s excuse itself. He winced when his joke elicited a frown from Sabine. “Apologies,” he repeated with less humor.

Whatever upset her, it was small enough that the more genuine apology quelled the start of discontent that appeared. Sabine kept her gaze locked on Vincent’s as he wondered why a dry lump was suddenly in his throat before he tried to swallow it down. “What kind of permission?”

“Permission to use your shop as a…” Vincent trailed off, flipping the pages of her notebook. ‘One of the first things we discussed, and…ahah,’ he thought. “She said to use it as a wedding venue.”

Unlike before where it was a mild annoyance that flitted across Sabine’s face, the frown currently marring her face gave Vincent more pause. Not necessarily a death sentence of judgment, but he was prepping for the worst to leave Sabine’s mouth.

“I did not say that. It would be too cramped, and I’d be endangering my and employees’ workspace.” Sabine shook her head, serious and solemn. “Absolutely not for a wedding venue.”

‘And that’s what I was waiting to hear. Fuck.’

It was too good to be true to already have received the full permission needed for proceeding with a venue. Nonetheless, this was not the first time Vincent was in this sort of situation, and he was sure he’d find a way to succeed in fulfilling the client’s wishes. He had to.

“Ling mentioned there was a discussion at some point though, at least?” He fished for more information. He just needed more to work with, and then he’d be able to start negotiating if needed. “I’d hope she didn’t lie about that.”

Much to his surprise, Sabine chuckled. It sounded low and velvety, and it warmed his cheeks at how lovely of a noise it was to his ears. He wouldn’t mind hearing more.

She peered at Vincent with a faint trace of mirth in her eyes, a small smirk played on her lips. “She isn’t the type to lie. Most likely misconstrued what I said,” Sabine clarified. Her lips twitched into a softer, fonder smile. “She can have her reception celebration in the lobby, with some people in the shop. I offered to do tattoo work at their reception, as a way to make it more…interesting, I suppose.” She huffed out a laugh.

This was becoming an odder idea and a very feasible plan at the same time. Not at all what he was normally used to in terms of planning, but he was starting to change his tune; it was a novel idea that Vincent could experiment with designing, and Vincent loved to design. He furiously scribbled new notes in, highlighting certain ideas and keywords that popped into his head. “That certainly is interesting. I’ve not been to a wedding reception like that yet.”

Sabine’s eyebrow quirked. Sleek and groomed, Vincent recognized the threading done as well as the small acrylic nails that tapped away on her tablet screen occasionally; she was a woman who took care of herself.

“How many weddings have you been to?” She finally stopped interacting with her tablet, instead waiting for an answer. Whether it was ten minutes ago or ten seconds instead, he didn’t know that much. All he knew was Sabine’s eyes seemed to pin him into place with their gaze, and he had to keep swallowing the dry dry lump in his throat.

“Er, personal is three. As for client weddings, I’ve easily attended double digits,” he answered with a small cough at the start and wiped his hands on his pants. Nervous habits, he said as a curse to himself. “I aim to ‘finish’ one wedding a week. After five years of doing this, I’ve established enough credibility to have a consistently filled schedulebook. I was lucky that you had availability on a Monday, my friend!”

Sabine made a hmph noise at the epithet. Not negative but not positive. “I give Mondays off at my shop. We don’t get much activity anyway since it’s the start of a work week, and my employees voted for working longer hours instead anyway.” She propped her chin up with her hand, and her gaze seemed to be more scrutinizing than before. “Your work hours must be awful, I just realized.”

Vincent winced. They could be…awful, yes, depending on how terrible the client was. “Not typically, though it can get overwhelming. I choose my own schedule, and that’s something it’ll never take away from me,” he answered. “I could never return to a normal job after being able to choose my own, like I used to be an engineer.”

Whatever else was brewing behind such an intense look dissipated, instead replaced with an appreciative gleam. “Respectable. Where did you work? What field?”

The interest in such a tidbit about Vincent caught him by surprise, and he fumbled with his words for a split second. “I graduated as a mechanical engineer. At Kingdom Corporation, I was Head of Design within the defense department, but…” He grimaced, shaking his head. “Burnt out. Flew too close to the sun and all that. Unfortunate, but so be it. I found my new calling anyway!”

Viper’s eyes lit up, brighter than it had before. It seemed to rival Ling’s own brightness in her eyes from their meeting on Friday. “I was a fellow at Kingdom Corporation,” she said with a smug glee, considering the look of amazement that must have crossed Vincent’s face. “Head of research and development. Majored in chemistry across all three degrees.”

Vincent’s composure was already abysmal throughout the entire meeting, and he was only glad that Sabine seemed to be much more relaxed than expected but also much prettier. He blamed his issues on that. Then to hear how accomplished the woman was, on top of it? All he could do was whistle and beam at the impressive resume.

“A fellow…you must’ve done fantastic, revolutionary work! Congratulations on that achievement, even if you do not hold it anymore,” he smiled, clapping. “I could only dream of being in such a position, Dr. Callas.”

Sabine scoffed, turning away. “You were the head of design for defense. You did plenty of work, and you must have generated plenty of patents as well. You would’ve been a fellow eventually,” she said with no hesitation, and Vincent felt a warmth spread through his chest. “I’d love to know further about your work, but I fear we should return to the topic at hand.”

“Oh—! Of course, Sabine,” he breathed out. His heart picked up; he couldn’t remember the last person who was genuinely curious about his design work. While he did get burnt out at his job, he loved what he did; he loved receiving a problem and formulating a solution, figuring out what was wrong and how to fix it. Every problem felt like a puzzle, and everything was a chance to improve.

He did his best to focus, closing his eyes and recentering with a deep breath. With a smile, much cheerier than before, he asked, “Now where were we?”

For the next hour, Sabine inquired next about the expected process and planning, and this was something Vincent could do — this was what he did for a living, this was his craft he became an expert in. The next hour passes by in a steady blur of exchanging questions and answers.

Sabine was an unsurprisingly thorough person, answering questions that very few clients ever thought to ask but probably should start. Vincent noticed how well-suited her demeanor was for her occupation; dedicated, focused, and detail-oriented. All admirable and desirable traits for such a job.

Along the way, Vincent managed to squeeze in quips and personal questions. Maybe none of the jokes landed far enough out of the ballpark to score, but a few one-liners pulled an amused exhale out of her nose, so Vincent figured that counted for something.

It was at the end of a particularly funny punchline, at least in Vincent’s eyes, that Sabine suddenly frowned when she glanced at her watch. “Ah, shit. I have an appointment in an hour, and it’ll be a decent drive,” she explained as she started to put away her tablet and pencil. “I’m afraid this is the end of our appointment, but I feel we made good progress on this transaction.”

Vincent ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach at the announcement. He had been enjoying the woman’s company after the initial roughness that came with meeting anyone new. While not rude or off-putting, Sabine wasn’t the warmest of women, but she eased up more as the conversations continued. Vincent found himself already feeling missing the conversation.

He coughed behind his fist. “That we did. Before you leave though, let me buy you a coffee.” He hoped he didn’t sound as pathetic as he felt, asking a woman he met for business to stay and indulge in conversation for a few minutes longer. He hoped she didn’t see how his cheeks burned. “My thanks for the meeting being quickly scheduled, and for the interesting conversation. Or call it an incentive to pay me back, to ask me about my job,” he rambled. “Or perhaps this is a poor attempt at being a gentleman.”

It was the last offer that cracks the stoicism, however small, that seemed to permeate Sabine’s face for the most part. She seemed amused at the self-deprecating rip of himself. “I do love a man who owes me,” she responded much to the flustering of Vincent. “Kidding.”

All he could do was hastily pack his own stuff up, and he followed Sabine to the short line at the register. As they conversed, all Vincent could think was how much he’d miss the conversation and how frustrated he’d be, trying to find someone this interesting in tonight’s swipes.

//

Friday, May 5th, 8:30pm.

“Good evening, Primavera! How lovely it is to meet you tonight,” Vincent greeted his date for the night, all sultry eyes and devilish grins, or at least he tried to. Whatever it looked like, his date giggled as she batted long eyelashes towards his direction. “How are you doing? I’ve been nervous personally.”

A half-truth, half-lie sort of statement. Not exactly black, not exactly white; just some ratio that turned into some shade of gray.

After the meeting with Sabine on Monday, he had spent all day furiously swiping across all of his dating apps. He received enough matches just fine and could schedule first dates with almost as much ease as Sabine did, but it was always the second date that eluded him. No matter what he did, he was always ghosted after the first date.

Primavera Guzman was a woman of a short and curvy stature according to her shared photo for her dating biography. Beautiful locks of brown hair drowned her face as it cascaded over her shoulders, and long lashes framed pretty, green eyes. ‘Not as sparkly as Sabine’s though,’ he added.

They sat at the counter of a packed bar, reruns of shows from earlier in the day playing on the tvs scattered through the bar. The lighting was dim but warm, casting the two of them in a soft, warm light; Primavera decidedly looked pretty against the golden hues.

Vincent donned a crisp, white button-up underneath an ironed, navy-blue vest. It hugged his figure tightly, and he preened at the appreciative gaze of Primavera that roamed all over his upper body. It calmed his jitters some.

“Aw, why were you so nervous? You’re a pretty li’l thing, and if I could, I’d eat you up right now!” She giggled again, and Vincent’s lips twitched. Her giggles weren’t bad sounding, but if her every response was decorated in giggles before and after… “Tell me about yourself!”

Vincent inhaled and exhaled. He just had to relax, and this date would go just fine. Besides, this was going better than some previous dates already; other dates didn’t even bother to get to know him. Maybe he’d get lucky enough to at least take her home, or maybe he’d finally get the elusive second date.

Right when he was about to speak, the waitress appeared. She gave a brief introduction of herself, Claire, and the special menu, to which Vincent thanked her and offered a smile, making polite conversation over what she would recommend.

“Excuse me!”

Vincent paused, mildly startled at how loud of an interjection Primavera voiced. Rubbing at his ear, he asked, “Yes, what is it? Is something the matter?”

Primavera shook her head no, but the frown and creases didn’t lessen any. She narrowed her eyes at the waitress, bristling, and Vincent felt sorry with the way she wilted under the glare. Vincent coughed to get his date’s attention away from the poor waitress. “Let’s get an appetizer or such? Let us order while she’s here, after all!”

The frown did not go away, but Primavera did avert her gaze to instead peruse the menu. Instead of appetizers though, she eyed cocktails, and Vincent listened with eyes bulging at the three different drinks she ordered. She had even asked to keep the drink menu just in case, after which Vincent ordered two appetizers and a glass of red wine.

“Are you okay, Primavera?” Vincent kept his tone low, trying to be reassuring. He didn’t know what set her off when the waitress appeared. “You ordered quite a bit of drinks.”

“Is that a problem?” She snapped, and fuck, was Vincent not willing to deal with this today. This was slowly becoming more and more of a strain than a fun night out on him.

He could at least sit through dinner for the food though, if the company was lacking. Maybe he’d still somehow get a second date out of this; he didn’t have to accept it after all, just the thought of being asked to return again was a nice concept in his mind.

//

Friday, May 5th, 10:30 pm.

Vincent tried to rid away terrible feelings from the failed date, from drinking himself messy when he got home to texting Ryo about his lack of luck in dating. Not the most clean ordering of plans as texting quickly became difficult, but Ryo would understand. Besides, he always had a high tolerance.

Ryo (10:31 pm)

she got drunk and tried to fight the waitress?

Vincent (10:33 pm)

Jabbed the waitress’s chest. Said she “didn’t enjoy how the waitress looked at me.”

Vincent (10:34 pm)

I believe this is what you call, ‘dodging a bullet.’

Ryo (10:38 pm)

one way to fucking say it. sucks that your date sucked.

Ryo (10:40 pm)

what about the nathaniel guy? two weeks ago?

Vincent groaned. Nathaniel Ludwig was a recent find on a gay dating app, and it quickly revealed itself to be a mistake during the first date. From the almost impressive lack of hygiene to cluelessness, Vincent struggled to find anything positive to mention about him besides the pretty face; it was the only reason Vincent swiped right. Even the conversation over text to plan the outing was mediocre at best, and in-person conversations felt dull.

A long time ago he thought he’d be able to survive a spouse as long as they were pretty enough, but he changed his tune quickly. He needed someone interesting more than someone beautiful in his life, but he was the type to go for both whenever possible.

Vincent (10:45 pm)

Don’t mention his name. Awful. Ghosted that one on my own accord.

Ryo (10:48 pm)

wow. must’ve been really bad. sucks.

Ryo (10:48 pm)

what’s the plan now

Vincent (11:03 pm)

Drinking. Though not to my last date’s extent.

Vincent (11:05 pm)

She ran me 60 dollars in terms of drinks only. It wasn’t even good alcohol, which is the worst part.

The date had gone well for approximately five minutes, until the waitress appeared. A nice enough woman who introduced herself as Claire, she was a red-haired woman with lipstick and eyeshadow to match. She was beautiful, which Vincent did not voice, but maybe he stared for too long anyway. Primavera didn’t seem to think highly of Claire based on her initial glare. Whatever she thought, it had her sneering at Claire and ordering drinks in a haughty tone and without discussing payment first.

Vincent figured the date was irrecoverable when Primavera started berating the waitress for no reason, ignoring his interference, and even standing up to jab a finger to her chest. A move that had the waitress calling for security, Vincent stepping aside to let the date get forced out as she shrieked, and leaving behind a 50% tip for the mortification exhibited. Hard to believe Primavera was four drinks in by then.

He was still getting texts from the woman, and the few texts he read were absolute ravings from a woman furious at his lack of chivalry and gentlemanliness. He didn’t have the energy to open the app to deal with that at the moment.

Exchanging texts for a while to lament his misery with dating, it was around 1 a.m. and half an hour since Yoru’s last response when Vincent decided to call the conversation over. Yoru was never the type to sign off or say goodbye; the conversation simply ended.

Vincent’s last thought, as he slunk off to bed sobered down to tipsy, was that his date was nowhere near as interesting or civilized compared to Sabine. Sabine wasn’t as enthusiastic or as giggly as his date had been, but she had been polite and fascinating, understanding enough of Vincent's presence. It was obvious she cared about people overall as humans from the general respect shown to him. Basically, the work meeting ended up being better than the date.

How miserable was his life at the moment that such a thing was possible? Vincent groaned as he tucked himself into bed, laying down on his side like how his old college roommate used to tell him. He felt shitty already, even before the hangover tomorrow.

Thinking back on it, he supposed it didn’t hurt either that Sabine was attractive in an intimidating ways. Her proportions were model-like with smooth skin and a sleek haircut that framed her face so sharply. For a tattooist, it was curious that Vincent found no visible tattoos, but it was still quite chilly in the mornings. The long sleeves and pants made sense.

Vincent wondered if he’d be able to inquire about the tattoos next. They had ended up making plans to meet at the shop itself, so Sabine could give him a tour; he was confident Ling and Zyanya would be amenable to hosting the wedding elsewhere and then hosting the reception instead at the tattoo parlor. He moved ahead with the tour.

Now, in approximately a week and a half, he’ll be face to face with Sabine, and maybe he’ll be able to talk about his projects again. Another intelligent person — a technical fellow, at that! — who was polite and amusing and—Stop. Vincent had to stop that train of thought immediately.

Vincent shook his head. ‘Sabine is technically a vendor right now. Think professionally.’ He could do it, after all, he had done so with every person during his business career. This was like any other vendor, and he would act professionally, of course; this would be a simple, everyday thing. Great, glad the situation was sorted!

(It was not sorted.)

He shut his eyes at a particularly painful rumble of his stomach, uncaring if it came from thinking too hard about Sabine, his unlucky streak with dating, or the impulsive drinking as a coping mechanism; his throat felt like it was on fire, like he was inhaling heat directly from a blaze, and he wished for a bottle of water to appear. Nothing happened.

“Mon dieu,” he grumbled with a pout.

Everything felt terrible, and he just hoped he could go to bed soon.

//

Saturday, May 6th, 4:55 am.

He was officially hungover.

[whymustmyfavalwaysdie]

Now I'm curious to hear more details about "the colour of her eyes" and the Haikyuu WIP! ٩(๑`∪´๑)۶

Also I forgot about "Don't trust the government, trust pasta boy" but I remember it being funny 👀✨

Listen, i have no idea what's pasta boi is about, all i remember is thats its based off a silly conversation with a friend from uni when we were in class.

The haikyuu AU : one focused on the karasuno team, and more importantly Tobio Kageyama because of a specofic OC - his neighbour has a small daughter

Luna [INSERT SURNAME] (5-6 yr old) is Kageyama's neighbours's daughter. Though they share no blood ties, kageyama has known the little girl since her birth and has always treated her like she was his niece. With her, he shares his passion for volleyball and tells her all the stories ab his teammates and the games they play.

One morning before practice, Luna's mom is called for an emergency at work and is unable to take care of Luna. Kageyama ends up taking the role of a last minute  babysitter, and has no choice but to bring the 5 year old to practice with him. This marks luna's first - and definitely not the last - encounter with the Karasuno volleyball team.

This AU is basically karasuno team adopting that baby girl and the other teams of Haikyuu series will also get to know her and she'll follow their journey all until their pro years (i think she ends up playing too).

AU created with two friends of mine @starsenet @sleepyanger

Hinata crosses his arms on his chest and raises his eyebrows at Kageyama.  “Kidnapped a child on your way to practice ?”  “Wha- no! What’s wrong with you?”  “I don’t know. What else am I supposed to think? I know you don’t have a younger sister.”  “And so the first thing you think is that I kidnapped a child???”  “Who kidnapped a child?”  Hianta whips his head around. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi have arrived too.  “Kageyama did,” Hinata deadpans  at the same time Kageyama grunts, “No one!”  Tsukishima’s lips twitch. “The king will never cease to surprise us.” 

Colour of her eyes seems to be a random WIP, I'd completely forgotten about its existence but here you go. Unsurprising plot twist, its gay.

Brown was the colour of her favourite chocolate flavoured pocky, the colour of the leather-bound books that had conquered every empty space in her room, it was also the colour of the soil of the many plants she bought on impulse over the last few months.  Brown was warm, safe and home.  And whenever she saw Anya's brown eyes, Ez wanted to drown in them forever.  She wanted to wrap herself in the warmth that took over her heart whenever Anya was near like she would Bury herself under a blanket during long winter nights. She wanted to hold her hand, to never let go. She wanted to hear all the stories Anya has to tell, wishing they'd never end. She wanted to see her smile, see her laugh, for when she did either of those things, her eyes lit up like fireworks.  "Ez, are you okay?"  Ez blinked and looked at Anya who was giving her curious - concerned - look.  Brown. So Brown.  Beautiful.  "Ez, are you Daydreaming at work again?"  "Huh? No! Never. Why would you say that"  "Yeah right. You're lucky il too nice to report you to the boss. Make sure you're done with Madox files before you leave tonight, though."  "I will, Anya!"  And as Anya exited the room, the sound of her heels slowly fading in the corridor, Ez turned her attention back to her desk and the stack of paper waiting for her. She picked her favourite pen, rolled up her sleeve and tightened her ribbon around her hair, before convincing herself that once she'd be done, she'd gather the courage to ask Anya to come have dinner with her.

There you go :3

[mutiara-05]

I really hate watching the time passing me by and I also hate having to witness all my years fly so I hold my pen and sit down, it's time to write time for me to sort whats wrong and what's right but my life has been so fucking dull lately now so Ima tell you about my past and Ima keep it raw ok so back to the year of two thousands and five the mid of that year where I almost didn't survive was still in the womb and they announced me dead they scheduled curettage but "no" grandma said did a second check up and surprise I haven't died I was just chilling in there, was laying on my side now skip to mid august to my time to finally come I took about two days being a nightmare to mom well it's no surprise since she didn't want me at all but wanting a son he went and pinned her to a wall a disappointment since first breath by being a female my pink clothes highlighted the devil's clear fail the doctor who brought me said "she's a miracle" AB negative blood type yet she's alive.. untypical was hours old laying down when a nurse barged in yelling "a bomb was located, leave avoid your fin" the first four years of my life passed by really fast almost died a couple of times but that's the past got a bunch of allergies and one can easily kill me reason of death: a little peanut she couldn't see was five years old and already having trust issues but that's nothing because at six starts the abuse I've always wanted him to go a little bit further To stab him I needed an excuse since he's my father required straight A's while studying three languages school was an hour away and filled by dumb bitches made fun of and pushed around but I stood still all alone cause mama was busy to notice how I'm ill started writing at 6 as a joke but picked it at 10 for real I was alone and scarred I needed something to heal a couple failed tries then I wrote something so cool rushed to her feeling proud but she made me a fool I didn't hold a pen for full three years after that and I lost my spark while losing all the extra fat on sixth grade I failed to write an essay, no surprise costed me but I fixed it following my own advice high school started and was nothing like the movies from a teenage dream to a hell where you pay fees only one year then everything went down hill for me no hope, no dreams, not knowing who I should be fourteen was when I tried to take my life away but failed so I guess god really wanted me to stay now became dead inside using a fake smile to hide then knew an artist who took me to hope on a ride felt understood having a hero who knows my pain kept going by thinking about him under the rain by using his voice I crossed a phobia off of my list While aware he doesn't even know that I exist was struggling still but his smile helped me endure 2020 he left to cure his old left shoulder injure I remember so clear how I cried scared for him but he came back saving my life from being dim now 2021 oppression logged in after my hair cut overwhelmed I held a blue something ready to cut really wanting to see some red while killing myself but blacked out then woke under my books shelf I survived again so I had to create a second face living two lives and switching was the daily race but it's fine I was pretty chill, wanna know why? was waiting to be 17 believing that's when I'd die nineteenth august of two thousands twenty two at a restaurant waiting for two "friends" I knew many things went wrong that day but I didn't mind party's over, had a fight at home he won't be kind took a deep breath and calmly laid on my bed slept with a smile was sure by morning I'll be dead but "it's nine o'clock am" announced by my alarm I woke up at morning safe and sound with no harm my heart sank in why the fuck am I still here? I'm still alive I haven't died that's my biggest fear

Dressed up kinda overshowing to cover my state a couple males tried to hit, I lied: I'm not straight but "boys don't bite" oh yes I assure you they do I ain't letting my guard down, y'all stay safe tho went out with no permission to watch the world cup cool day but the loud sudden cheers fucked it up like sorry dudes I ruined such an important match you enjoy hearing cheers but I see a bloody patch skip that now its exams time I'm expected an A plus but I've been quite and over sleeping ain't it sus Results came back terrible, it ain't no surprise "How sad" "how unexpected" are my little lies let that too pass since it's now my birth month they took my light away and now I'm lost in a labyrinth decided I won't be celebrating nothing this year because I can't enjoy anything if he's not here I'm slipping back to a shadow that's blue and grey I'm slowly digging the dark grave where Ima lay but I don't care if my knees are buried in mud or even if I'm out there drowning in my own blood you can always start a battle and turn it to a war then put me in it with no gun no sword nor armour I can face the snipers alone and slay them all standing over cold bodies, you know I never fall I really don't need nobody, I don't wanna be saved save your pity, sweetness wasn't something I craved was once just a little girl who needed a warm hug but now a tomboy as cold as my iced coffee mug today I finally accepted that I am the villain here so fuck all of the promises I've made, am I clear? I ain't staying and I ain't trying, we won't go out won't write for nobody won't live in the same route I do have a list for the promises so I didn't forget but when I go extra for people I end with regret she was innocent one day but they hurt her a lot I built her a castle with high walls, for her I fought all she ever wanted was someone to read her a story now she write those and overuse the word sorry Dear lord I'm sorry for not being the best believer sorry that I only pray when I get a strong fever I'm sorry to my cousin, I cant keep being your idol I'm sorry grandma when you were alive I didn't call and I'm so sorry grandpa if I was ever too cold sorry aunt I stopped loving you when I got old sorry to my uncle who died the month I was born I blame myself for it every day and I'm still torn sorry to my "friends" I never loved you enough so sorry to the boy I turned down, I was rough sorry to the sun and the star that I did wrong you'll both keep shining in the lines of my song sorry to mama that I'm not the perfect daughter and sorry but I hate you so fucking much father to six thousands five hundred and seventy four days of me existing while being dead to my core