#they had no reviews but that is an offer i refuse to pass up like £4 for a skz pc in this day and age?

[eunhos]

.

[aimless-imagines-for-fun]

Tutor Rewards

Pairing :: Chad Radwell x Fem!Reader

Warnings :: 18+ Content, NSFW/SMUT, dub-con?(sex is the only thing that motivates this man), oral(m), implied cheating(never addresses that he's dating Channel at the time)

Word Count ::  1,945

Summary :: As Chad's tutor, you quickly figured out only one thing that motivates him to study: sex. He did well on a practice exam and you give him a reward.

A/N :: I KNOW GLEN POWELL HAS SO MANY OTHER CHARACTERS THAT ARE MORALLY BETTER THAN CHAD BUT he's an idiot and my first introduction to Glen and now whenever I see him in any movie I go "Look at Chad go."

If you enjoy my work consider leaving a comment or kofi as support   ʕ • ᴥ • ʔ ❤️ 

The tapping of Chad's foot and the scribbling of your pen were the only noises in your dorm room. The star jock of the campus sat nervously a good three feet away from your desk, waiting for you to finish reviewing the practice exam he had taken. God, he was hoping he got every question right that way he could get his reward: fucking you.

-

You were his private– and secret– tutor. An arrangement was created by your biological anthropology professor who promised you extra credit in this class and another class of his you were taking. Your professor told you that Chad needed to raise his D+ to a C- and you'd be golden. The assignment felt easy enough until you started studying with the broad-shouldered stud. After one review, you were honestly surprised he even managed to pass his high school biology classes.

At first, you noticed he was less than enthusiastic about studying, something he rarely did apparently. He even offered to pay you to do all his homework– a suggestion you seriously considered before realizing that no matter how well you did on the assignments he'd flunk the exams, thus tanking his grade again. You tried various studying techniques: crash course videos, flashcards, jeopardy-style quizzes, hell, you even put on a paper puppet show(which surprisingly was the most successful at retaining his attention).

You were damn near ready to give up until you noticed some odd behavior from him one session.

It was a particularly warm day and the library's AC was busted, so you were wearing a spaghetti strap sundress that was a bit tight around the chest. While trying to explain the difference between various hominid skulls, you noticed he was carefully observing the photos you had, like he was paying attention. Which was odd because he never paid attention.

When you asked him to point out which skill was which species based on the teeth, you were surprised he guessed all of them correctly. Naturally, you asked him what was so different about today's session than all the others.

His answer both surprised you and grew your resentment towards him.

“Probably because when you held the pictures up you looked topless, so I was imagining what you looked like behind the photos.”

You felt your brain short-circuit for a moment before throwing all the materials you had at him in a fit of frustration before storming off. Of course, his sexualizing you is what made him pay attention to what you were saying.

God, he's such a pig it's not fair he's so damn handsome, you thought 

Naturally, not wanting to fail the class, he chased after you and begged you to continue tutoring him.

“(Y/N), I need your help passing this class. If I fail I- I don't know what I'm going to do!”

“I'm not some object you can ogle at, Chad!’

“Come on! I can't help it! I had no clue you were kinda hot under all those baggy librarian cardigans.”

“‘Kinda hot’?!” Your anger was rising, and he could tell. Not only was he objectifying you, but now he had just insulted your sense of fashion.

“My bad- I shouldn't have chosen those words to say! I'm sorry!” He grabbed your hand in desperation. “Please… I need your help…”

He gave you a puppy dog pout, one that was nearly impossible to refuse. You groaned, tanking your hand away.

“You're paying me if I do this because extra credit is NOT enough.”

“Of course! Whatever you want, just name your price!”

“And we're going to have to start having study sessions at my dorm instead now.”

He cocked his head. “How come?”

You turn away, embarrassed about the reason you were going to give. “That way I can get you to pay attention.”

Chad was dumb, but he wasn't that dumb. He knew what you meant and his dick twitched. He was so sure he had seen a porn that went like this before.

Sadly for him, you genuinely meant to help him learn and had him work. Granted, you were always in a tight-fitted shirt without a bra and a short skirt, but you never let him touch you. You made it very clear, you wouldn't be fucking him– which he did try to negotiate for after getting his first B- on a pop quiz.

Eventually, his attention started to slip nearing the end of the semester. Apparently, he was losing interest in just having to imagine what you'd look like naked all the time. He needed more stimulus to pay attention.

After a lengthy debate– one he was oddly well prepared for– you both agreed you would touch him to get him to focus. You wouldn't touch him underneath his clothes, only over, and he was still not allowed to touch you. You were also getting a boost in what he was paying you.

First, it started with some gentle circling of your hands around his shoulders. Then, some rubbing of his biceps or chest, eventually moving down to his thigh. You could see a small mound forming in his crotch, though refused to touch it.

It was only when one particularly frustrating study session did you put your hand there. He was tired from practice, which would've been fine except for the fact you had a quiz the next day.

You meant to grab and squeeze his thigh to wake him up, instead of grabbing his dick. It worked though, the drowsiness immediately exiting his body and his focus all on you. You didn't want to show him how embarrassed you were, so you looked away in shame with your hand still holding his growing erection and had him memorize the key terms for the chapter you were in. With each word he correctly told you the definition of, you stroked him through his pants.

You refused to make eye contact the entire time, but he was a-okay with that since your shyness made it all the more hot for him.

This method was very useful when it came to getting Chad to memorize key terms, though it always left him wanting more. So much so, that he memorized all the key terms in the textbook in hopes of getting enough strokes he'd be able to cum. You had to admit, watching how desperate he was to cum just from some hand action over the clothes turned you on. Plus, you were majorly impressed with how much getting laid seemed to motivate the guy.

So, knowing how much of a fiend he was for sex, you promised him that if he managed to get every question right on the final exam you’d sleep with him.

-

Currently, you were grading the test exam the professor handed out. Chad was getting about every eight questions wrong, worrying you slightly that you might have to sleep with him. You only made the deal partly because you didn’t think it would happen. With a score of 83/100, you almost debated sabotaging him a bit. You put down your red

“Nice, does this mean we’re finally fucking?”

“I told you I’d only do that if you got a perfect score on the final exam. Now shut up, or else I'm not rewarding you by sucking your dick anymore, Chad.”

“Understood,” He said with a shit-eating grin.

He got comfortable fast, spreading his legs wide open to give you plenty of room. You sink between his legs, a heat rising to your cheeks and between your thighs. You pulled out his rock-hard erection, not surprised in the slightest that even his penis looked good– of course, Chad Radwell didn't have any physical flaws. He was slightly longer than average(or at least what you were used to), a good girth, and a few veins already popped though.

You opened your mouth up wide and took in his tip, earning a pleased hum when you swirl your tongue around, going down further as you did.

“Shit, did you practice before?” He teased.

You glared, taking in more but still unable to get his full length in your mouth. You began bobbing your head quickly, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. As the droll started to spill out from the sides of your mouth, you noticed the veins on his forearms begin to flex.

“Shit, wait-!” He nearly shouted, hands jumping to your hair and yanking you still.

You whined, wanting to pull away and yell at him for pulling your hair, but his grip remained firm, keeping you in place. You stared up at him, waiting for him to explain himself.

“I wanna enjoy this, not get rushed to cum. This is a reward isn't it?”

He began to guide your head at a much slower pace. When he brought you down, his hips inched up, pushing more of his length down your throat. Unused to taking more down your throat, your eyes started to water as you had to fight your gag reflex. He repeated this until he managed to get his dick down your throat and your face was practically against his pelvis.

Instinctively, your body grew hot. You cursed the wetness that was forming on your panties right now.

“Fuck yes,” He groaned out. He grinned down at you, admiring your crying eyes and full mouth. “You know (Y/N),  you might even be hotter than Channel when you're not saying anything and just sucking dick.”

Unable to reply verbally, you lifted your middle finger. A part of you wanted to bite down on him and wipe the smug grin off his face, but another part of you had to admit it felt so good having him borderline face fuck you right now.

He picked up the speed a bit, though he didn't go as far down when he did. He was enjoying the view, yet he desperately wanted to cum. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to finish in your mouth or on your face. With the tension growing in his lower abdomen, he knew he had to make a choice and soon.

You were also aware of his readiness to cum. His guiding was getting sloppy and his hands were gripping your hair tighter. 

Realizing you'd be upset if you had to get semen out of your hair, he decided to finish in your mouth. So, he pulled your mouth off, only giving you a brief moment to gasp before standing and ramming his cock back in. He held your head in place as he thrusted into your mouth repeatedly. Your hands reached up, grabbing onto his forearms as you moaned around him.

With a few long strokes, his dick began to twitch, and hit spurts of cum poured down your throat. He held you close, making sure you swallowed every drop. You could feel him throbbing in your mouth until he eventually stopped and pulled himself out. You coughed a bit, and when he released your hair you slumped forward, your hands helping you remain up.

“I can’t…believe…you just…throat fucked me…asshole,” You said between pants.

“Like I said, it was a reward. I deserved to enjoy it.”

Begrudgingly, you took his hand when he offered to help you up. He was still beaming with joy, and your heart sank at his next sentence:

“Don’t make any plans for the 15th. I plan on making the most of my reward again,” and with a wink he left.

The 15th was the day your professor would release the scores for the final exam and possibly the day you had to have sex with that handsome idiot.

[muddyorbsblr]

feels like mine pt2

See my full list of works here!

Summary: On the worst day of his life, Tom receives an offer impossible to refuse: getting you back. Well, almost…

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: major character death; possibly a wonky timeline (the math wasn't and still isn't mathing in my pea brain); probably a wonky depiction of soulmates [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: sad meow meow hours

Three days ago…

After a good dozen takes on the same sequence from a variety of angles, Tom finally had a moment to himself, giving his assistant a signal to retrieve his phone so that he could give you a call. You'd been apart for nearly a month at this point and he missed you terribly.

The only remote relief he'd get was hearing your voice as often as he possibly could. You'd tell him all about the plot of the book you were reviewing, or what details you could divulge on the shows you were working on. Considering that you often had ironclad NDAs for them these days, you'd usually tell him of the former as it was less of a minefield.

Once his assistant handed over his phone, however, his heart caught in his throat at the screen that greeted him. Over a dozen missed calls from an unknown number in the last few hours, preceded by a text message from you.

Tom, sweetie, I'm in the hospital. It's no big deal, just a little road accident, don't worry about me. I might not be able to answer your calls for a while, since they're taking me in for surgery in a few minutes. I love you. Always.

With trembling hands, Tom returned the call from the unknown number, his heart so heavy in his chest it was a struggle to even breathe right. The next words felt as if they passed through him in a blur; he could only pick up on bits and pieces from the other end.

Drunk driver. T-bone. Internal bleeding.

And the worst words of all. I'm deeply sorry for your loss.

He took the soonest possible flight back to London, everything around him seemed a blur until he finally got to the home you two shared, his and your mothers waiting for him inside. That was the moment he finally broke, dropping to his knees and breaking out into sobs, the horrible reality cruelly sinking in once he saw their completely distraught faces.

They took your body to be cremated that day, allowing him a few minutes to say goodbye before they began the process. Your mother advised him against looking into the body bag, insisting that he wouldn't want that as his last memory of you, that he should at least get to live on with his final memory of your face being that of the loving, beaming wife he knew and loved.

The next time that you came out, it was in an urn, weighing just about the same as a baby, and he cradled you as such. For the entire car ride back to your home until he settled you in his study.

"We didn't have enough time," he said through his tears, stroking the golden urn as if he was stroking your hair. "We should have had more time."

At that moment, a voice pierced the solemn silence of your home. "I'm sorry for your loss, Thomas."

When Tom turned to see who the unwelcome visitor was, he couldn't find any words to say except one. "Impossible."

"Quite possible, really," Loki shot back, stepping into the study with palms open in a sign to tell your husband that the god meant no harm. "Anything's possible in this multiverse, I'm slowly coming to find. And in that realm of possibility, I have something to offer you."

"All due respect, I want nothing that you can give," Tom declared sullenly. "You can't give me my wife back."

"And what if I said that I can? Well, in a way."

That suddenly got Tom's full attention, placing an arm in front of your urn as if he was still trying to protect you. As if that could really do anything against a god. "I'm listening," he said cautiously.

"I've recently learnt that in every universe, there is an iteration or an echo of me, and a corresponding iteration of Y/N. In this universe, Thomas, you are my echo. In every universe, Y/N's echo is destined to fall in love with mine, and in almost every universe, that love is reciprocated," the god began to explain, creating an illusion with a wave of his hand of your wedding day.

It was nearly enough to mesmerize Tom completely, almost losing himself in the memory. In happier times. "Hang on, what do you mean almost every universe?"

"Ah, yes. That part. Well, you see, Thomas…in the universes where my echo takes on your form, world-famous actor, hordes of adoring men and women and everyone in between at his feet, getting an entire crowd to fall silent with a finger to his lips--"

"I get it, I get it, can we keep it moving, please?"

"Right then. In the universes where my echo is…Tom Hiddleston, while it is a guarantee that Y/N will love Tom, it is not a guarantee that Tom will love Y/N. There are universes where Tom barely even knows of her existence. She's in the hordes, a part of her soul knowing that she's doing exactly what she was designed to do, but confused as to why she feels as if a part of her is missing somehow."

"That's--" Tom's words choked off in a sob at the back of his throat, a new type of sadness overcoming him as he imagined a world where he never even knew you. Never loved you. "That's miserable."

"It is," the god agreed. "My offer to you is that I can reach into one of these universes where her love for you is unreturned, and I can bring her to you. Fulfill what her heart yearns for, and in return, you have an echo of your wife. Have the time that was stolen from you so harshly. So unfairly."

Tom considered the offer carefully, only moments passing before he had his first question. "What of her universe? Her family?"

"In these worlds she doesn't have much of one. For the most part she's alone, and has learnt to fend for herself in lieu of a support system." Both their hearts broke for those iterations of you, the thought of you taking on the world without anyone by your side was nearly enough to bring both men to their knees. "If you were to accept, then it would be a simple enough spell with barely any ripple effect to nullify her existence and memories of her from the minds of those still around to remember her."

Every part of him wanted to jump at the offer. To accept it without thinking. Getting another chance to spend a life with you? There should have been no hesitation at all. Except…

"If she's anything like my Y/N, she'll be smart enough to ask questions. Why her life's different from what she knew before. Whose remains are in the urn in my study. What do I tell her then?"

"That is entirely up to you." Loki's answer was not in the least bit comforting. "You can conjure up a story that she will be inclined to believe, or you can tell her the truth. Alternatively, I can offer you an easier way out of this as well. Surrender your late wife's remains to me and I can keep her somewhere safe. That way you can live on with creating your new life with this echo of your Y/N without being as tethered to your past; after all, if you wish to start this life with her, then she deserves to have you love her to the fullest extent you can afford. She deserves not to be loved half-heartedly by someone still clinging to the ghosts of his past."

Much as he agreed completely with the sentiment, Tom found himself hesitating at the thought of simply surrendering your ashes to the god. He knew what the trade would mean, and that he in turn would have more time with a version of you; however, a part of him still protested.

For would this not be a dishonor to your memory? To simply let go of you and the time he'd gotten to know you and fall in love with you in exchange for something that might not even live up to his memory of you?

And on the other hand, he thought about the version of you that was doomed to live your life with an unrequited love. The knowledge that your souls were only partly intertwined in that world had him hurt for that iteration of you. You did deserve to be loved with the same magnitude that you gave love. And if he could give that to you, then the only way that he could do so was to accept that this wouldn't be a life wherein he picked up where you and he left off. He would be building something new entirely.

It was a near impossible choice. But ultimately he knew which way he would go.

Loki's offer meant more time with you. It meant having you again. Even if it was an echo of you. At its core, it was still you.

Right?

"What would you do?" he asked the god.

"If I lost my Y/N? I'd turn the multiverse inside out to have her again. Rearrange the Realms itself until she was by my side." He paced the room as he continued his answer. "Any version of her." A smirk tugged at the onyx-haired man's mouth before tilting up his chin, assuming an all-knowing stance. "But seeing as you are an echo of me, you already knew that this was the answer, didn't you? You simply needed to hear it outside of your own thoughts. Solidify your decision."

Tom could only nod, the depth of the situation still tremendously lost on him. All he knew was that if he did this, he would have you back.

He placed your urn on the desk, pushing it towards Loki. "What do I do now?"

The god held out his hand. "Firstly, your wife's ring. I'll need it when I find an echo of her that leads her life all alone. It will be her first tie to this universe. Your universe." Tom placed your wedding ring into his hand. "Secondly, you grieve. You've suffered a great loss, and what I am to do is not a replacement of your late wife, and should not be treated as such. Mourn your loss for the next day. Then after tomorrow night, go about your morning routinely, as if she were alive."

Tom nodded again. "How will I know that it worked?"

Loki only shrugged at the actor. "Have faith. Faith that you'll see your wife again the morning after next."

With that, the god disappeared, taking both your remains and your wedding ring with him. And Tom heeded the advice, crawling into the bed you shared with him, all the memories of the life you built together and the possibilities of the life you were yet to build overwhelming him. The weight of your lost future all but crushing his heart into a million pieces.

And he wept himself to sleep.

Today…

On the second morning after Loki's offer, Tom rose from your shared bed and listened to the god's instructions from days before. He laced his shoes up, went on his usual morning run, changed into business casual attire as if he was scheduled for a Zoom call in a short while, and proceeded to start preparing a breakfast for two.

Once he had coffee brewing, he started preparing a lavish breakfast for you two to share, starting with a fruit platter. "Have faith," he whispered to himself, making the last second decision to make it a touch more decadent with a small bowl of Nutella to dip the fruit into.

If this truly was going to work, he would spoil you at every turn moving forward. Never another minute squandered, nor another craving denied.

"Have faith," he whispered again, putting on an apron to prevent any spills from ruining his white dress shirt and proceeding to slice up the fruit.

Then he heard the bedroom door open. And for the first time in days he felt the tiniest glimmer of hope.

He waited until you made your way down the stairs, fighting every urge to meet you halfway and take you into his arms. He knew you needed to acclimate into this life you'd been suddenly thrust into; Loki had done his part, now it was his turn to ease you into your new reality.

Your footsteps got closer and closer until finally they stopped just outside the kitchen area. That was the only time Tom allowed himself to turn around and look at you, relief flooding his system once he laid his eyes on you. In the silk navy blue nightgown, wearing your wedding ring.

He finally felt like he could breathe again.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

A/N: *peeks from the corner* I promised I'd have a sequel for 'feels like mine' up, and here it issssss 🫡 This isn't 'sworn fealty' after all 🤣 (in all seriousness though I will be working on a sequel to that I just have 0 idea when)

And technically this isn't a sequel but more of a prequel to part 1…all I can promise you is that there is a part 3 and it's spicy 😳👀 Dunno when that'll be out tho because I'll be returning to the requests pile but we'll see where the vibe takes me

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemis @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified

[morelikeravenbore]

💕Positivity prime time! Share five things you love about yourself, four things you're excited about, OR three people you care deeply about and why. Pass this along to someone whose posts make you smile💕

CA-CAW BISH 💙

CA-CAW BINCH! 💙

Thank you for sending this, ya cutie! I didn't feel like writing about myself so I uh did this instead 👉👈 hehe I hope it spreads some positivity regardless.

Silly drabble, 600~ words.

Sebastian smoothed the sheet of parchment over the desk and reviewed his work with a small nod of satisfaction. Curfew was near, and the library was deathly silent save for the near-constant stream of dark mutterings coming from the girl beside him. Aurélie, for all her beauty, humour, and charm, was a force to be reckoned with when she was in a bad mood, and after an entire day of being grumbled, glared and snapped at, Sebastian was quite ready to put a stop to it. 

'Right,' he said decisively, squinting at his untidy scrawl. 'Are you ready?' 

'No.'

'First question —' 

'I still don't understand how this is going to help!' 

Not for the first time in his life, Sebastian thanked whatever higher power had given him a twin sister and thus a lifetime of experience dealing with the wildly shifting moods of girls: Anne was certainly a  formidable foe when she was upset, but even the volatile temper of a Sallow paled in comparison to that of a French girl when she woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Still, vast experience notwithstanding, he exhaled a deep, slow breath before calmly explaining, for the third time in a row, ‘It's called practising gratitude. It's supposed to help you shift your mood so you feel better.'

'Fine,' Aurélie pouted, slumping lower in her chair. 'Ask the stupid questions.'

‘First,’ he began, referring to the list of prompts he'd compiled. 'List five things you love about yourself.' 

'Five?' she shrieked, bolting upright as if he'd just assigned her a twelve inch essay on the history of flobberworms. 'Pass. Next.'

'We'll come back to that one, then, shall we?' he said through his teeth. 'Share four things you're excited about.'

'Going to bed,' she muttered. 

Sebastian scribbled it down. 'And?' 

'That's it.'

Unwilling to concede defeat until he at least drew out a single, tiny, begrudging smile from her, he went on. 'Next question. Three people you love deeply.'

'Shoes.'

'Shoes are not people, Aura.'

'Shoes are a girl's best friend.'

'That's diamonds!' 

'Those, too. Write that down.'

'Alright.' With mounting frustration, he added "shoes" and "diamonds" to the list of people she loved. 'Who else? Real people, Aura.'

'Celeste,' she offered, leaning forward to watch him write her best friend's name on the list. 

'And? Come on, you might play the part of World’s Most Aloof Ravenclaw, but I know for a fact you love more than just one person…' 

'Hmm, Poppy. And Esme! And Jean, and Siobhan. And Lory, Cordelia, Tessa, Rosalie, Gibby, Allegra. Ummm...' She paused to catch her breath while Sebastian's quill flew across the parchment, struggling to keep up. 'Johanna, Calypso, Matty, Eleanor, Ariane, Winter, Alyn. Oh, and Artemis, and Lydia! And Violet and Pearl, and Eloise, both of them —' 

When finally she found herself out of names, Sebastian reviewed the long list with a bemused expression. ‘All these friends and you can't think of a single nice thing to say about yourself. Anyway —’ He shook his head and turned to look at her, ‘— you're missing someone.'

'Oh?' she frowned, critically eyeing the list of names. ‘No, I don't think so.’

'Mhm. A certain charming, good-looking, highly intelligent, freckled someone.'

'Oh!' She smacked her palm to her forehead. 'You're right! Garreth Weasley.'

Sebastian nearly choked on his tongue. 'I'm not writing Garreth fucking Weasley under "people you love deeply"', he refused, throwing his quill down. 

'Oh, but he's so friendly.'

‘No,’ he said flatly. 

‘Alright, alright, grum-py. How about this?’ With an impish grin, she picked up his quill and, in a long, elegant script, wrote “Sebastian Sallow” across the top of the parchment. 

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. ‘You couldn't have put me first?’ he grumbled.

‘I could've,’ she replied, smiling for the first time that day. ‘But it's much more fun making you jealous.’

🦋 Featuring my loves and some of Aura's AU besties: @sallowsangel @sallowslove @sloanesallow @lorriiraine @2centniffler @gingerlegacy07 @mianeryh @galaxiasgreen @lyworth @ravenwind-75 @dwightschrute11 @girl-named-matty @endless-starlight-legacy @yoshitsuno @moonstruckmoony @ps-cactus @polarisgreenley @esolean @vienguinn @myokk @thesuperiorfeeling

[woso-fan13]

Whumptober 2023: 9

No. 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.”

Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.”

A Polaroid picture of you at practice is slipped under your door. You’re confused, but it’s a cute picture so you just prop it against the lamp on the desk. It was probably just the media team’s doing. 

You forget about the event until a few days later, when you find another picture. This one is sitting in your locker, a closeup of you when the team had gone out to dinner the other night. 

“Does anyone know what the media team’s been working on?” You ask your teammates, “they’ve been leaving me hints but I can’t figure it out.”

None of your teammates know, so you leave it alone. 

The pictures stop, for a while, after that. You don’t get anymore until the next month, when you’re back at camp. This was a picture of you in the locker room, and it was left propped on your seat in the bus. 

This wasn’t funny anymore. 

“Alright, who’s been pranking me?” you’re met with silence, “seriously, guys, I’m sick of it. Em? Kel?”

Both women shake their heads. You believe them. 

“Whatever, just- whoever it is- stop it. It’s not funny anymore.”

—-

The pictures didn’t stop. Instead, they grow in frequency- appearing daily now. In the meal room, on the bench before a game, shoved into your locker. You were finding them everywhere and your annoyance at your teammates grew. 

The team had gathered to review game footage, Coach working on connecting the video on the laptop to the projector. After a technologically challenged struggle, the laptop’s background is projected. Coach clicks into the media player and the whole team is met with a single photo. You, asleep in your bed, X’s drawn over your eyes. 

This sends the room into a shocked silence. Coach is mad that someone messed with the media equipment, beginning to lecture the team on respecting property. 

But that picture isn't recent, not like the others. Usually, the pictures are from camp the day before. This one was different.  

This one was older. This one was taken in your home, in your bedroom. 

—-

After a long conversation with the team, it’s clear to everyone that something bad is happening. A frustrating call to the police follows. Apparently, because you were a recognizable figure and posted regularly on social media, you should be okay with this happening. Apparently, you should appreciate the attention. 

You were scared. You slept in a teammate's room, refusing to go anywhere without a group. You only left the hotel to go to the pitch, refusing any other activities offered. 

And the pictures stopped coming. For almost a week, you hadn’t received anything. In celebration, you got to pick the movie for team bonding that night. 

You were walking down the hallway with the other youngsters, heading to where Becky was hosting movie night. She had turned a blind eye on the amount of forbidden snacks being offered around the room, knowing that everyone needed a little comfort.

“I’m just going to stop and grab a blanket,” you say as you pass your door, “you guys go on ahead, I’ll be right there.”

You hadn’t been in your room in about a week, occasionally sending someone in to get something that you needed. But now, after a week, you felt fine stopping in to grab a blanket. Plus, movie night was only three doors down the hall, you would be fine. 

You reassured the others to go and tell everyone that you were coming, insisting that you would be fine. Once they had started walking away, you held your keycard against the lock, opening it when the light flashed green. You flipped on the light, looking back at the others to respond to a question that Lindsey had shouted to you. 

Taking a step into the room, you finally turn your head to look. You scream. 

The room was covered with pictures of you- filling the bed, scattered across the floor, propped up on the nightstand. With a brief glance, you recognized some of them. 

One was from your last birthday, zoomed in from a far distance. Another was of you at your last game, one of you through the bus window. 

An arm quickly wrapped around your waist, pulling you back and against a strong body. 

You screamed again, fighting. Your arms were pinned to your side as you desperately tried to escape. The only thing that brought you out of your flight-or-fight instinct was a family voice shouting your name. 

“Y/N- Y/N, you’re okay. You’re okay, you’re safe. Let’s get out of here, come on.”

You fell fully into Lindsey’s arms, sobbing. 

[serpentface]

What’s the Janeys/Brakul death scenario?

So like upon review I mostly just was going to kill them off for Couya + Faiza + Hibrides’ character development (#FEMINIST WIN!!!!!!!).

The background situation of their death scenario is something that will happen either way:

Throughout the story, the pilgrimage requests tribute from the towns it passes through (mainly food and other supplies). This is a common practice for pilgrimages and the travels of royalty, and Imperial Wardi civilians are used to the concept (just not so much during a famine). Some people give fully willingly (a lot of people believe in the pilgrimage's goals/and or the necessity to keep its high status participants fed), most are at least partly coerced (usually not via direct threats, but the pilgrimage contains a couple hundred soldiers, the Usoma, and Odonii leadership. The threat is implied), some are Fully coerced via threats.

In the latter third of the story things are not going well. There’s been a lot of internal struggles among the soldiers and dissatisfaction with pilgrimage leadership (mostly Stavis), men are starting to defect and a large body are getting outright mutinous. The group has also lost much of their food supplies and things are getting desperate (they've been starting to eat their own pack khait and oxen)

With this going on, the pilgrimage sends three soldiers to exact tribute from a farming village in the province Lobera. They meet a group of men acting as representatives for the village, who flat out refuse to give tribute. Things escalate into an outright fight, the soldiers are better armed but few in number and are killed.

One of the village elders finds out that this happens and panics, knowing that the men who killed three of the Usoma’s soldiers (one of which is her son) have signed their own death sentences, and possibly that of others. She attempts to persuade the families to preemptively flee, and then takes the village's one remaining skinny old plow ox to carry the bodies of the dead soldiers back to where the pilgrimage is camped. She supplicates herself before Stavis Amanti and begs for mercy, saying they don't even have enough food stored to feed themselves, much less to give, and that the men thus considered the killings righteous self defense. She shows that she’s returned the bodies for rites as an act of goodwill, and offers the ox in tribute, the most valuable thing she can provide. She begs that the Usoma accepts this as tribute and spares the men's lives, and that the pilgrimage moves on without taking anything else.

Stavis bids her safe passage away from the camp (without confirming or denying that he's accepted her plea), and the heads of pilgrimage confer on what to do. The killing of the soldiers is a violation punishable by death, but this would be like, a notably bad PR move. Meanwhile a contingent of soldiers (including some major side characters I haven’t introduced) break off and lead a raid on the village to avenge their fallen brothers and loot supplies. Others get drawn into the fighting, and it devolves into a full on massacre.

A couple families had fled at the elder’s suggestion, but most refused to leave their homes. Some of the villagers believed they would be left unharmed if the killers were given up, others had been preparing for a reprisal and armed themselves with everything available. But they have few actual weapons and none are trained combatants. All of the remaining men and adolescent boys get killed, one woman manages to take out a soldier using a shovel but is killed, most of the other women and girls are spared murder but several are assaulted. The village is looted for supplies and kindling for funeral pyres.

Stavis Amanti has no fucking idea what to do. The soldiers defied orders and killed Imperial Wardi civilians, but the current climate amid the pilgrimage would make it EXTREMELY Bad for him if he demanded their punishment (but also potentially very bad if he didn't- not all the soldiers participated in the massacre and many were horrified). Faiza encourages him to exert authority in a measured response by having the ringleader of the mutineers killed but sparing the rest, and offers to publicly back him in hopes of avoiding full on mutiny.

The raid reveals that the villagers had been hiding more grain than they claimed they had (as in like, enough to feed their people on starvation level rations for a few weeks). Stavis takes this as an opportunity to justify not punishing the mutineers (as the villagers DID technically have something to give, and execution IS technically the punishment for refusing the order of tribute (though not execution of the entire community)), but insists that their Galenii bless the village dead and their men build pyres for the civilians as is honorable conduct. (This attempt to make amends is not particularly appreciated by the survivors.)

The pilgrimage holds a funeral for their own dead soldiers. The village ox that was given in tribute is killed and butchered for the funerary feast.

----

In the Bury Your Gays route, Brakul is one of the three that gets killed during the tribute extraction. Janeys loses his fucking mind when his body is brought back, and tries to slit his own throat on the spot. Couya stops him by wrestling him to the ground while Janeys screams threats at her and the old woman in a very pathetic public spectacle. He is deprived of all sharp objects.

While the pilgrimage leaders are conferring, he hovers miserably around Hibrides (who is also not feeling so great about all this). He's suddenly very interested in her pregnancy for the first time ever, asks to feel the baby (which has been just starting to kick). She's like "fuck off", but he strongly implies he's planning to commit suicide asap and she concedes and then is like Okay I Let You Feel The Goddamn Baby Now Leave Me Alone Holy FUCK.

Janeys turns his attention to fucking murdering anyone tangentially involved in this happening. He’s among the initial raid party, plays a major hand in it turning from its ostensible 'find and execute the ones responsible, subdue the rest, steal their food' directive to a full massacre by directing his men to immediately attack the first man he sees. He and his group capture three young men as prisoners and demand that they be slain at the soldier's funerals as is wartime custom (this isn't wartime). Janeys additionally demands that he should get to do it, as the only kin of any of the dead men. Once that's done he immediately cuts his own throat and bleeds out. They wind up getting cremated at the same time so things work out how Janeys wanted it.

At one point I realized that this is kind of just The Iliad?

----

So like obviously whether they die here or not has little impact on THESE events, but a lot of the endgame revolves around Couya Faiza and Hibrides and these deaths would be very significant to THEM in varying capacities. It affects the trajectory of the final stretch of their arcs and adds a lot of layers to the ultimate Couya/Faiza conflict. I also liked their deaths being kind of random and shitty and meaningless because that in of itself is kinda ~thematically resonant~ with the story. (A lot of tension between the lack of intrinsic meaning to events and the profound levels of meaning ascribed to them).

I'm almost definitely not going with this version of events though. Janeys and Brakul don't have much active involvement in the endgame and don't Really need to be alive for it as it stands, but I think the version where every main character (except Faiza she's doomed) survives to see What Has Been Wrought and living to experience the fallout ultimately works better.

[eyesthatroll]

STRAWBERRY VANILLA

SEPT. 2021

[ takes place in the bless the broken road universe ]

summary jack and (y/n) aka winnie meet for the first time

pairing jack hughes x fem!poc!reader

warning(s) none?

word count 1.2k

It's a late Sunday evening, and you find yourself knee-deep in baking preparations for the upcoming morning at the bakery. Normally, this task was reserved for early mornings, requiring you to rise at the ungodly hour of 4 am. However, the prospect of waking up so early had lost its appeal, so you had opted for a late-night baking session instead.

Despite the soft hum of background music, the relentless downpour outside remained unmistakable. The rain pounded against the windows, a symphony of nature's fury that was everyone's least favorite song. As you worked, you held onto the hope that it would subside before closing up. The thought of venturing out into the pouring rain wasn't appealing, and the idea of driving through the intense downpour filled you with a nervousness that you couldn't shake.

You're in the midst of placing some freshly baked, unadorned cakes into the refrigerator when the distinctive chime of the entrance door bell sounds, pausing you from your task. Your expression shifts from concentration to momentary confusion, as you're almost certain you'd locked that door. However, the distant murmur of a stranger's voice calling out confirms your earlier suspicion that you must have forgotten to secure it.

Hastily, you exit the kitchen, halting as you arrive at the front of the shop. Your gaze fixates on a tall figure, draped in clothes soaked by the non-stop rain. With practiced ease, he sheds his hoodie, revealing a sculpted physique beneath a clinging, rain-dampened white t-shirt that accentuates the contours of his well-defined torso.

"Sorry, we're closed." Your voice cuts through the air, drawing his attention like a magnet. He swivels his head towards you, his deep-blue eyes locking onto yours. An exasperated sigh escapes his lips, and he runs a hand through his tousled, chestnut hair, his fingers tugging lightly at the roots before releasing them.

He appears oddly familiar, and you tilt your head slightly, straining to recall the distant memory of where you might have crossed paths with him before.

"Can I ride out the storm here for a bit, just until the rain slows?"

His question hangs in the air, tinged with a hint of pleading in his tone. You find yourself intrigued, unable to ignore the curiosity about what drove him out into the storm. Though your initial instinct is to refuse and tell him to leave, you can't deny the surreal feeling of this encounter. It's not every day that an attractive stranger stumbles into your bakery, seeking shelter from the tempest outside. It's as if you've stepped into a scene from a novel, a meet-cute destined to unfold. Yet, you're acutely aware that once the storm passes, your paths will diverge, and this fleeting connection will fade into memory.

"You can stay until the rain stops, or until I leave." You agree.

A warm, appreciative smile graces his lips as he nods in gratitude. "Thank you so much."

"Sure." A subtle, awkward tension lingers in the air, leaving you feeling somewhat uneasy about resuming your work in the kitchen while leaving the stranger alone in the front of the bakery.

Instead, you opt for some light cleaning in the front. With deliberate motions, you wipe down the tables, sweep the floor, and diligently review and sign some pending invoices.

Despite your efforts to stay occupied, that lingering sense of awkward tension gradually returns to fill the room as there is nothing else up front for you to do.

"Did you want something to eat? I have cake, donuts, and some other stuff."

He shifts uneasily, his mouth opening and closing as if he's uncertain how to respond to your offer. You look at him expectantly, arms crossed over your chest, and a slight sway in your stance as you roll onto the balls of your feet.

His hesitation finally gives way, and he responds, his teeth grazing over his bottom lip. "What kinds of donuts do you have?"

A grin spreads across your face as you step over to the counter where he's standing. You reach behind the counter, retrieving a menu and flipping it over to reveal the section dedicated to mouthwatering donut options.

Shoulder to shoulder, you take a moment to walk him through each of the donut flavors. Some are classics, like the indulgent Boston creme, while others venture into the realm of culinary creativity, like the pineapple basil donut.

"How about..." He pauses briefly, contemplating his choice. "Strawberry Vanilla?"

You accept the menu from him with a nod, then pivot toward the kitchen. Swiftly, you retrieve two strawberry donuts from the fridge and arrange them on a spare plate you have lying around. With a deft hand, you pluck two napkins, ready to serve the treats.

Returning to the front, the handsome stranger remains in his original spot, engrossed in his cellphone. You clear your throat, gently guiding him to the side as you hoist yourself onto the counter. His gaze meets yours, uncertainty etched across his face. A reassuring smile graces your lips, and you pat the space next to you on the counter. He hesitates for a moment before mirroring your actions, and the two of you settle side by side on the countertop, indulging in your donuts together.

"Oh my god," he exclaims between bites, his enthusiasm palpable. You glance at him, a mixture of amusement and pride washing over you as his reaction to the donuts you made becomes increasingly evident. "This is insane," he declares, his words filled with genuine appreciation.

"Thank you." You thank him, laughing softly as you take a bite of your own donut.

A comfortable silence envelops both of you, with only the soft background music as your companion. Your eyes occasionally dart toward him, quick glances to avoid being caught staring. It's become clear, especially now, being so close to him, that he is undeniably beautiful.

Surely, he must have a girlfriend, right? There's no way he doesn't. You try to push aside the twinge of disappointment that accompanies that thought, but it lingers at the base of your chest.

He wipes his mouth with his napkin, then turns to you with a curious expression. "Crazy, I never noticed this place was here."

You immediately shake your head, eager to share a bit of your story. "Actually, I just bought this place a few months ago. I think it used to be a vegan place or something."

He appears genuinely surprised by your admission. "Wow, you own this place? You look pretty young."

A sheepish smile plays on your lips. "I'm 20."

His eyes light up with shared astonishment. "Me too!"

"And what do you do for work?"

Before he has the chance to answer, a sudden knock at the door jolts you back to reality. A taller boy, strikingly similar to the one sitting next to you, stands outside. It seems neither of you had even noticed that the rain had stopped, leaving the sky a light grey.

"That's my brother," he says, sliding off the counter. He retrieves his hoodie from the floor, draping it casually over his right shoulder.

"Thanks for the shelter." He says. "And the donut," he adds, flashing you a warm smile.

"Of course," you reply with a nod. "Drive safe."

"Yes ma'am." And just like that, the handsome stranger you'd shared laughter and conversation with for the better part of a half-hour is gone.

mari speaks! consider this a part one i suppose.

tag list! @tomhollandsbabymama

[ if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist, please comment and let me know ]

[bronx-bomber87]

Good evening Fandom :) Gonna try and be more concise and mini this time haha Wasn’t so mini last time. Imma really try LOL Also the gif library just refuses to pull anything that's new and its driving me nuts. Guess all the pretty gifs will have to wait till summer when the library gets it's act together and I can be more in depth. LOL This is supposed to mini anyways. I'll do my best to make this brief but impactful haha This is a new gear for me.

6x02 The Hammer

Their first interaction is fraught af. Tim is radiating hurt still not that I blame him. He is trying to sweep it under the rug but the man is hurting. I do love Lucy trying to let him know not how healthy communication works. heh She's not wrong. You know I was so Tim in this moment before therapy. Surprise surprise right?

Deeply hurt but when it gets brought up I shirked it off. Try to put it in a box and bury it. Lucy is right it’s not healthy. But he isn’t in the place to receive that right now. I do love her saying they have stuff to talk about if she ever goes under. Yes.... yes you do. Lucy seems to have calmed down at this point and Tim isn’t there yet…

Credit to This post for this image

Lucy getting roped into the ring thing LOL Their tension is immediate as they sandwich Angela in their fight. Angela is the fandom as she watches them bicker. My goodness not hiding how they feel whatsoever….Tense af while they’re fighting. Could cut it with a knife. Sniping at each other. Tim saying he knew she wasn't really over it.

Which kills my 'calmed down' theory for Lucy haha Even though they're at odds Tim still offers his help because it's his girl. Lucy saying she will accept it even if she doesn’t need it. These two.. Angela's final words had me laughing. Wanting to come and enjoy their fight with popcorn. Tim saying she’s not funny on the way out hahaha Not in the mood for his bestie either.

Love Lucy reaching out to touch him and make a joke bout Hammer's real name. Tim full of sass asking if he can finish? Well I never Timothy. LOL He has a warrant out and it’s outstanding that'll make this easy.... Even worse he loves to fight cops. Oh boy. Ladies first lmfao oh Tim I love you so. Putting his hand on her back. She’s smiling though.

OMG I can’t believe Tim tried to get her to fight the Hammer. My love no.... Her argument is solid af that she has to look amazing. That no one cares what he looks like. I mean I care what he looks like but it’s true she needs to look hot at haha Tim caving because well it's Lucy. Like fighting the sun right now. heh Lucy telling him he’s got this. Oh my lord it's so cute.

Lucy wanting to jump in but Tim stops her. My heart. He’s getting his ass kicked at first oof. Tim launching off the bed to kick Hammer into the closet. Holy shit that was sexy. I hope this fight gets gif'd it was great. He wins though. Well done Tim that was fine as hell. Got my motor revving.

Oh my goodness him bending on one knee and looking at her. The looks are LOADED here. Especially on Lucy's end. Getting me all in my feels goodness. Especially Lucy’s face. Myriad of emotions going on there. Foreshadowing at it's finest Oh my. I have a feeling when do the summer review I'll have a novel on this. Tim passes the hell out shortly after. Getting asthma attack just looking at him.

Love the set up girls night/boys night and their talk bout their relationship. Celina asking Lucy to have less baking at her party HA! Naww love Celina thinking in those terms. Lucy saying that's way off. Seeming worried it’s not in their future. Heart clutch. Adore this back and forth between Lucy and Tim at the parties LOVING Chastity telling Lucy like it is. Calling her out really. Even she can see it. I mean feel like Lucy is scared and just won't back down from this path.

It's not just Tim. It's her too but she is digging her heels in. I can’t say I don’t agree with Tim on the projection. Lucy using Isabel as an excuse for that. I think she is using it more than he is IMO at this point in time. She usually is right on the money with Tim. This time doesn't feel like it. Almost as if she’s using Isabel as a scape goat for being scared more so than Tim. Lucy saying she’s fine. Lying liar my love lying liar.

Poor Tim wanting to show he’s not the problem my love. That he's not the only one. There is clearly still a lot to sort through for them. This scene is proof of that. Lucy gets a call from Tim to meet at the station. This has to be the lie detector test. Harper telling her to run I was dying.

Credit

How cute is Tim in his black shirt all wired up for her? I'm dying how precious it was. The way she crosses the room sweet lord. Eyeing her prey. She basically is straddling his thigh. Imma pass out. Getting as close as she can to him. Basically hugging his thigh with hers. I’m getting hot under the collar already. She is so ready to ask him anything but UC questions to start this off. Clearly wanting to ask him specific things on her mind since he's hooked up to the machine.

The bug question LMAO. The most Tim and Lucy thing ever. Of course that man doesn't release the bugs haha. Very her to ask him to do it though. God this was so cute I cannot. Small little insight to their relationship we don't usually get to see.

Then she went right after it with asking if he loves her? A question I think has been weighing on her mind for awhile. Knowing she can immediately see if he's lying. Gah look at him light up. The way he leans into her. Reminding of his posture in 5x09 when he asked her out again. Just as serious now as he was then. Saying he loves her ugh my heart. Our big softie in action in this moment.

Lucy couldn’t be happier with this answer. Same look she got whenever he complimented her in the past. They be beaming everyone. Then he get’s a big fact lie with the UC question crap. Now I feel this isn't fair. Because the man LIVES to support her but he is a struggle bus about this path. To me that 'lie' wasn't because he doesn't support her. To me just those damn demons that won't rest for him.

Credit

Tim looking fine af. Looking for his girl of courses sigh. Cool cool cool fun angsty glances. Damn you gif library was primo angsty looks. Even though they’re sitting next to each other it’s the most physical distance seen between them really in ever. Yeah their arms are touching but not much else. More angsty looks between them at the reception. Gah they’re intense as hell.

Credit

Tim coming to find her my heart. Being the one to break the distance. Asking her to dance and confronting this issue. So proud of him and what he tells her. What a man. He's owning the trauma he still carries. Which is HUGE for him. Lucy thanking him and saying they'll make it through. I love this. Always love us touching back on. 'Unless it is.' moment. Because yeah this is hard but they're worth it and they continually see that and show it.

Now do I love it squarely being just on Tim this UC Fight? No I don't. I do think she is still having doubts but love him laying it out there. I think the issue's Lucy is having just haven't been confronted yet. Their fight from 6x01 was about Tim's issues for most part. Her's were for sure in there just not as prominently. I'm hopeful we touch on her's later this season.

This still feel unresolved to me and imbalanced. Especially now that Tim has admitted some fault to their problems as of late. I feel like I have a really good grasp on these characters. To me my gut is telling me Lucy is scared, having doubts, worried about a long term assignment. What it'll mean for them. Her side of it still needs to be delved into. 5x20-5x21 shook her more than she is letting on. Truly think this just hasn't been explored yet. Because they both have things to resolve with this career choice.

Credit

Also wanna note in this lovely scene. Lucy has her hands all over her him and I’m about it my god. The intimate swaying and leaning into each other. That magnetic force of their's bringing them back together. Their bodies relaxing for the first time in this entire episode. Just happy to be near one another. They're glowing when they come back together in this moment.

Gah their chemistry is out of this world. Her hand on the back his head too phew lord and we get a return ILY. *heart clutch* Lucy's eyes searching his face hoping her saying as such soothes his wounds a little. The cute lie detector line I cannot. It’s was so precious. Their smiles have me on cloud 9. Couldn't be more in love if these two tried. *happy sigh*

Lucy and Tim leading the charge hot damn they pretty. Tim in formal wear and his badge? Lord help me. Phew this was a HEFTY one. So many things to sort through. Like I said in my OG post these are first thoughts. Should be interesting to see how they change come summer and we're in the hiatus.

Thank you to everyone who liked the premiere post. These are a different gear for me glad they're liked ha Imposter Syndrome is real ya'll lol Feel free to comment your thoughts I love chatting about them and this season best part of going through it together for first time. See you all next week!

~~~~

Side notes-non Chenford

Lmao the cold open. Daddy cop was always a fav one of mine.

Hey Henry is back sorta. ha

Love Luna checking in on Aaron. Then having a little ptsd poor love.

Oscar is back too LOL

‘Miss Cleo' nickname LMAO

Poor Aaron having a rough time of it. I was worried he was leaning on Celina too much tbh. Also that kiss yikes my man yikes...

[jhuzen]

Hey I just love your study habits story and I was wondering if you’ll ever make a part 2? Because god damnnnnnnn that is my shit

hypothesis testing [m.reader]

paaaart 2! of this trainwreck. i had to take my time on this because my brain cells could not for the life of them remember how people get together normally. so… this is not normal lmao. also ft. our dendro daughter because i love her so much.

𖦹 wholesome moments with nahida contrasting your moment with haitham and kissing :) slight traveler x reader if u squint at that one part.

“I think Alhaitham might be avoiding me.”

Nahida looked up from the dough she was kneading, her bright green eyes looking at you with wonder and curiosity. You stifled a laughter at the young archon (not so much in comparison to your age) — with her cheeks dusted with so much flour and bits of the dough stuck in her hair, it’s not everyday someone sees their archon in such a state.

“How do you mean?” Nahida turned her focus back to the dough, her eyebrows knitting in concentration, but it was clear that she was still all ears.

You looked down on the tofu you were cutting — the traveler had gone and dropped by some ingredients fresh from the stores back in Liyue after you and Nahida made a passing remark of wanting to try a different delicacy. Ever the charming outlander they are, they came back a few days later with a recipe and the ingredients on hand, it was only a shame that they couldn’t stay to help or eat, considering that they were currently busy with commissions as well.

You remembered offering housing them in on a stipend out of your own pocket — to rest even without having to worry about commissions and mora for a few days, but the traveler refused with a red face and ran off somewhere.

Now where were you again? Oh, yes. Alhaitham.

Jumping to conclusions, while tempting as a way to cope through unanswered queries, is not a habit slotted into your head. You were a patient man, looking through the lens of observation, testing a few hypotheses you’ve come up before finally drawing out a theory. Deductive reasoning, if you will. It’s how you worked on your research projects after all, especially despite the fact that inductive reasoning was more encouraged in your discipline sometimes.

And throughout the next few weeks, after your little study session that you conducted in Alhaitham’s home, you started seeing less and less of the man. Which, again, wasn’t that much to fuss over. You yourself placed him in a position of power where he’s not exactly allowed to have a much more leisurely schedule than he did as a scribe for an equal pay. But even then, he wasn’t this busy.

You recalled the few times on his first few days as the Acting Grand Sage — he was busy, but he always had enough time to entertain your whims and review your new research material for approval. He had enough time to spare you an hour or two to indulge his company, even more so when you would bring his preferred cup of coffee from Puspa café.

And now, it seems like every time you were planning to head to the Alhaitham’s new place of work, he’s always unavailable. And on the off chance that you catch his silhouette by the door, the moment you start walking up to him, it’s like he has a sixth sense for your presence and suddenly dissipates into nothingness.

It was… annoying. Bothersome. Troubling. It irked at your very core. It provoked something deep within you that even you have yet to figure out.

Nahida noticed your brooding silence and was kind enough to pull you back into the real world before you make the mistake of cutting your finger instead of the tofu, “Is the situation really so troublesome, [Name]?” Her kind eyes were quick to melt away the coldness that slowly gnawed at you. “Maybe it would help if you voiced it out.” She gave you an encouraging smile and truly you were certain that despite being her caretakers, it’s these moments that reverses the situation at hand.

Something you didn’t entirely mind. You appreciated Nahida’s efforts in exercising the application of the knowledge you’d graciously given her as her tutor.

“I would be remiss if I were to refuse a second opinion. Alright,” you resumed into your cutting, “It’s merely a working hypothesis, however… but it feels as though he has been making a conscious effort not to be around me recently.”

Nahida’s tiny hands cupped a dough and slowly shaped it into something that resembles a ball, “Why do you say that? He could be busy with his new responsibilities.”

“I’m not one to exclude the possibility, of course.” You scoffed a little, leaning back to squint at the recipe propped up by a mere empty sack where the crab roe was. You ought to pay the traveler back, they never said, but apparently, such an ingredient costed them quite the mora. “However, there is a different feel. He has an air of forced ignorance around my presence.”

The Dendro Archon crooned quietly at your words, thoughtful and delicate, as always, “Have you tried to confront him about this before?”

“More than I’d like to admit.”

“Ah… then your hypothesis might be just right,” Nahida giggled a little as her confirmation sent a pout to your lips that you seemed to be unaware of doing. “Does it upset you?” Her query was no less than damaging, but the defensive part of your logical brain suddenly flared up. Your muscles stiffened at her question, eyebrows furrowing even deeper with a matching scowl.

“…No.”

“So it does then.”

You had half a mind to tell the Archon that she should stop reading your mind when you can barely even process your own feelings, as ironic as it sounds. But then again, she was great at observing you ever since you and her started being seen as a family unit, closer than ever, and no doubt her jabs at your mannerisms would be on point.

“Could it be that the reason this is bothering you is because… you miss his company?”

A shot in the dark, that’s all Nahida did. But the grip you had on your knife was an indication of her keen observations. And suddenly, your rumination was thrown out of the way as you pieced the puzzles together.

She was right, you missed Alhaitham. So deeply that it actually bothered you; that suddenly it evoked an emotion within you that didn’t register positivity.

“Ah. ”

Nahida’s light giggle echoed in your ear, and you finally resumed into functioning, placing the cut tofu on another bowl and turning to her, “I suppose gratitude is in order, huh?” You asked.

“Not really. It was enough for me to see you look so stunted. I never would have thought that you would be one to get stuck on your own feelings despite deciphering so much of it in your pursuit of knowledge in a human’s emotions.” Nahida laughed with light and airy amusement, “It’s very much like an adventurer that went through the highs and lows of nature, entering every domain, seeking out treasure only to completely miss it in the end.”

You resisted the urge to groan at her words. It was stupid, alright. You were stupid. Alas, it’s nothing you can fault her for. With a fond smile, you reached out to cup her face, wiping away the flour that dusted her cheeks with your thumbs, “Of course. Very much like an expert adventurer making the most amateur mistake.”

“So then, do you know what could have caused his sudden aversion?”

You blinked as your mind suddenly blanked out, “I… never really knew.”

“Wouldn’t it be a good time for the expert adventurer to go on another exploit and find the treasure this time?”

“It sure would… right after we make the food.”

The precious smile on Nahida’s face was quick to lift your mood. Quite frankly, your gratitude is endless towards Alhaitham, the traveler, and the rest for even mustering up the courage to rescue the archon. You of all people least expected that she would be the family that softened you up.

And while you were finally able to lay your feelings to a temporary rest after clawing onto the shreds of sanity (courtesy of Nahida), Alhaitham was not all the better.

What happened the moment Kaveh barged in on your study time was nothing short of embarrassing. Alhaitham barely had enough time to process what happened — well, either that or he had the memory permanently blotted out from his brain. It’s like a defense mechanism, to protect what little of his pride remained that day.

It certainly helped however, especially when Kaveh was around to tease him. The fact that he somehow magically forget what happened on that day was enough to get him by to keep a face so muted of expressions. It was the best that he can do to stay grounded in his sanity.

But even that was slowly chipping away the moment he realized just how present you are in his life. He became minutely aware of your presence more than ever, to the point that he thought that you were actively seeking him out. And well, you are. You searched for him everywhere and all he ever did was take three steps out of your peripherals and hide.

Alhaitham could never view the act of confrontation cumbersome. He treats it like an ordinary conversation, but there was a lingering smidge of satisfaction when the person he’s currently grilling with interrogation squirms under his gaze so uncomfortably. It’s especially indicative that he’s succeeded in picking the right person to corner, knowing that they will break and he will get his information not long after.

But it was different with you. A confrontation with you eluded him. It was something that he wanted to actively avoid. Alhaitham never charges into a battlefield without strategies mapped out in his mind. In every plan he conceives, there is a backup, and in every backup he’s created, births another backup for said backup. It’s ridiculous, but convenient most of the time.

However, you were a foe he’s actively aware not to engage in.

Though Alhaitham has to wonder if you were really a foe… or were you an indispensable ally. So indispensable that he can’t even afford to make a move out of fear of losing you. But his mind had to counter that logic — whatever he’s doing right now, surely it’s a way to lose you as well. By now, you’re bound to be aware of his active avoidance of you, and the thought of you realizing he wasn’t worth your while somehow left a bad aftertaste.

His hand flexed, gripping his writing tool tightly as his lips turned down into a scowl. He hated to entertain such an irksome thought, but now it presented itself as an intrusive thought of his. One that would be sure to keep him up from nights on end.

Isn’t he just lucky that you were a researcher? And if there’s something a researcher is, it’s that they’re persistent to get answers.

And isn’t he even luckier that you were already on your way up to his office, with a determined glare settled in your normally neutral gaze?

Alhaitham was all too distracted by his thoughts of you, that he didn’t even consider looking up from the myriad of migraines that manifested in a form of paperwork, completely missing that it was you who now barged inside his temporary office.

You didn’t even expect Alhaitham’s presence in the office. With all his time spent avoiding you, you already mapped out other potential locations that he could be in. But you checked the office in the off chance that he was inside. And maybe it was a blessing from the wise archon whom you just confided to, but Alhaitham was in his seat, signing away, giving approval after approval of every research sent to him as well as handling certain changes in the law of the city as per Nahida’s request.

The Acting Grand Sage never bothered inquiring the business of his unwanted visitor. All he wanted right now is to go home and rest and maybe think rationally about his feelings that were repressed for far too long. It was going nowhere and he had a dislike for things that lead nowhere and make him unproductive all the more.

One can only imagine the surprise when you slammed your hands on the table, the action echoing within this glorified space. Alhaitham looked up abruptly, only then wishing that he had been more prepared.

You came and he had no battle plan.

“What are you…”

“Why are you avoiding me?” You cut him off with little remorse, leaning further in and Alhaitham had to lean away from you, feeling overwhelmed. You didn’t even bother with the pointless small talk that you would indulge yourself in. You just went straight for his throat with no mercy and Alhaitham had no choice but to face the blade of truth.

He reconfigured and answered you with a question instead to buy time, “What makes you think that I—”

Your patience was running thin and that much could be sensed in the tension that wafted between you and him, “Don’t give me that. You’re elusive, but you’ve always given me the time of your day. And suddenly you retracted that privilege and I want to know why, lest I take you to the borders of Fontaine and have you tried in court.”

Alhaitham was dumbfounded for once. You… of all people, thought that his attention was a privilege? He couldn’t push down the feeling that welled up inside him — it was something good. And the fact that you were unhappy from such a ‘privilege’ to be revoked. Alhaitham had to restrain himself from biting on his lip, settling for a quick jaw clench to relieve the tension you suddenly placed on him with your incredibly direct words.

“Tell me,” you urged and swatted the quill away from his hand, shucking away the research paper that he was currently. And true to your eccentric fashion of doing things, you climbed over the pristine wooden desk just to get to him. You really weren’t risking a chance of him sliding out if you take a moment to go around that humongous desk.

Alhaitham had to keep himself still and maintain a strong will as your shoes hit the ground, finally leaving him no room for escape as you caged him in the seat — hands on either of his thighs, squeezing them so tightly.

“Talk and I’ll replace your position as this nation’s Grand Sage.” You bribed and he had to wonder if you were only dangling the bait in front of him, or were you desperate enough to offer and act on it.

“Why do you… even want to know…?” Since when did Alhaitham feel so breathless?

“I’ve been deprived of something I’m looking for, ‘Haitham. It took me just a word from the wise to realize how much I’ve missed your attention,” were you really planning to murder him right then and there? Your words are so cutthroat and merciless that Alhaitham was almost gasping for air.

Even from the comfort of his chair, he was unable to retreat and reconfigure strategies like he intended. He was melting from your gaze, like a candle burning through its fiery wick that was you. At this point, there was even no denying that you wanted answers. And Alhaitham wished he could give them, but to do so would put him in a path where there is a point of no return; a roadblock he can never come back from; a decisive factor that could dictate whatever kind of friendship he has with you.

And there is nothing worrisome with exercising caution as often times he himself would rather lay back down and let all the pawns do their work for him, only letting him reap the seeds he had sown through the tools that he has. But you… you were no pawn, you were a player in this game and he hated it.

You exhaled sharply through your nose — a telltale sign of your resignation. Oh how foolish Alhaitham was to think that you were letting him off just like that.

“…I’m no mind reader so I can’t possibly guess what’s going on with that head of yours,” you said and Alhaitham agreed. “And it’s clear that there’s no drawing out that answer out of you.” He would’ve nodded if he wasn’t too overwhelmed with you.

And suddenly a dangerous glint appeared in your eyes, “Sometimes I forget I’m capable of assessing people’s emotions.” A wry laugh escaped from your lips and Alhaitham was back to keeping his guard up as best as he could. “I hope you’ve read my papers about the physical manifestations of one’s psychological state, Acting Grand Sage, because I’m about to give you a demonstration.”

Regrets and Alhaitham don’t often cross paths in his life. Every action of his is carefully calculated and is conducted with his best interest in mind. And most of the time, everything turns out in his favor. He’s smart and strong (despite his dubious claims of being a feeble scholar, whatever that meant). But at this very moment, he had no choice but to face a mistake of his — that he and his pride refused to tell you that you occupy his mind at a copious amount, unable to sleep without even seeing you, going even worse when you did.

He didn’t tell you that your presence affects him so. That there’s something with the way your headstrong approach contrasted his roundabout and cunning styles, immediately uprooting the millions of plans he’s made with just one word from you.

All of that was all he could think of to keep him sane from this ordeal. But no, it wasn’t enough to numb his senses.

Not enough to block out the feeling of your fingertips lingering on the skin of his bicep, palpating his muscles with little regard to his apparent psychological being. You said you were only assessing him, but right now, all he ever wanted was to go and bury himself to save some skin.

“Tension on muscles — usually indicative of strong emotions… often unease… or…” your voice was quiet, but Alhaitham figured it only lessened from how all he could ever hear is the blood rushing in his ears. “Are you uncomfortable, ‘Haitham? Or are you excited?”

The jaw clench from the man was all you needed to know, “Hm. The latter.” You concluded and Alhaitham almost shot up from his seat, ready to protest but couldn’t even find the energy to do so. He was far into deep. And at the very least, he can just prepare himself from the tragedy that he created.

Easier said than done.

Especially with the way your hand slowly traveled to his chest, your touch shielded by his thin and tight shirt that hugged his figure. You felt your way around and a wail almost spilled out of his mouth, much to his indignation. You narrowed your eyes at him, as if you were chiding him from holding back on you — or was it just his imagination?

“Accelerated heartbeat, rather strong too.”

Alhaitham may not always be right in deciphering you, but he knows that look of yours. That look that you make when you’ve pieced everything together even with what little clues you have in your arsenal.

Before you can even speak, Alhaitham already averted his gaze, the back of his hand shielding his mouth as the final clue made itself known — the heat in his ears spreading to his cheeks, coloring them in a rather endearing bright shade of red.

“…You’re insufferable,” was heard from the Acting Grand Sage, muffled from his hand.

“Am I? When you’re the one who made me go through the assessment? You’re far more troublesome, Alhaitham.” Your hand left his bicep, opting to remove his hand away from his mouth, and yet your oh so devious hand either forget its place as it never left the plush mounds on his chest. “Are you ready to hear your results?”

With a half-hearted glare sent your way, Alhaitham didn’t even bother to stop you.

Didn’t even move when you leaned so close, breath ghosting over his lips, “Your uncertainty in our interactions, the way you always seem to give me enough time of your day yet avoid me at all cost. The idiotic push and pull that you do. It’s a way to cope, isn’t it? A cope from your attraction.” He had to suck in a sharp breath as the final words left your lips.

“You like me, Alhaitham.”

With one last bout of confidence, Alhaitham scoffed, “Aren’t you confident today?”

You grinned, “Confident enough to reciprocate your attraction too, as it seems.”

That quickly threw him off the loop, his lips quivering as he looked at you in pure, unadulterated surprise — but even he was unable to recuperate from the initial shock as you quickly pressed your lips against him, swallowing whatever possible refutation he could make.

His hands flew to your arms this time, clutching tightly as his mind frantically scrambled to kiss back, only to realize that he barely has any experience in the first place. And it was like you were even painfully aware of this fact as you took on the lead, letting him follow you through the movement of your lips. His breathing ran ragged and perhaps it was his slowly depleting oxygen, but he soldiered on even with his labored breaths, wanting to get a taste more of you.

Far too addicting, that’s what you were. You sent him into overdrive as you licked his lips so sensually, leaving him weak in his knees and on the brink of collapse, but you held him there, hiking him up and letting him lean onto you as you vigorously attacked his lips, biting and nipping so mercilessly, glee injecting itself into your bloodstream like a drug as you felt him squirm under your touch.

An uncharacteristic squeal was emitted from Alhaitham as your stubborn hand on his chest gave a gentle squeeze, almost knocking the little wind left out of his lungs. You finally granted him mercy as you pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips with his as the one piece of evidence that you messed him up in such a way.

Your thumb swiped over Alhaitham’s wet lips, finding it strangely endearing to him so pliant, “You’ve never kissed anyone before. That’s strangely adorable.”

He scoffed, “Like you have.”

“Oh? You don’t know what kind of research methods I’ve done behind the scenes, Acting Grand Sage. You’ve no idea how many men and women I’ve kissed for the sake of research.

Alhaitham frowned. If you were provoking him, then you sure did prove yourself to be far more successful than you thought. Something about the thought of you mingling with others left a sense of dread within Alhaitham and he could not stomach it. He took your coat by the hand and yanked you down, “I’m willing to strike those words from the record if you quit these methods.”

“Bribing the researcher now? That’s rich.” You leaned back in, and gave his nose a peck. “Though I don’t particularly mind. I like you anyway.”

He refused to lose to the likes of you and yet here you are already staking your claim over him with a confident smile, he huffed, “Make it worth my while then.”

You closed the gap between your lips with a hum.

“I certainly will.”

“Hey, Alhaitham you jerk! I need to—!”

For the second time, Kaveh’s inappropriate timing had struck, entering the office as the lift arrived at the very top. He bustled in with a fuming look, only to stop dead in his tracks at such a scandalous sight. And this time, it wasn’t even remotely indicative in nature like the last. Here was his stoic roommate, legs spread wide with you in between them, lips barely leaving each other as you both turned to him.

Kaveh can only hope that this is the last time he catches you two alone in a room… lest he finds an even more unflattering scene on the third time.

Because in this case, the third time is most definitely not the charm.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias/Trent Alexander Arnold x Reader - Dark Rivarly Part 8/15

What a perfect day to release a chapter hahaha. 🤣 It's derby day between Man City and Liverpool and with the beef going on between Trent and the team my story becomes more and more unrealistic, or what do you think? 🤔

Could Trent ever make peace with somone like Ruben? Let alone allow Ruben to date his sister?

Part 9 and 10 are already out on my Patreon!

Reader is Trent Alexander Arnold's twin sister. The two have been inseparable since childbirth, more so now when Reader is fresh out of university looking for a job, crashing at her brother's place whilst doing so. One day Reader gets a job offer that she cannot refuse, however it would mean working for her brother's biggest rival in football, Ruben Dias.

Enjoy!

"These are actually pretty good."

"Really?" You perked up where you sat on the sofa in Ruben's hotel room. He was sitting next to you.

"Yes and the press seems to love the outfit you choose for Ruben, look."

Miranda turned her Ipad around, showing you the published images of Ruben, wearing the outfit you had picked out for him.

"I'll admit that I had my doubts at first, but the reviews have all been great. Good job Y/N."

"Um, thank you Miranda." A complement from her felt like a lifetime achievement.

"I'm gonna call the photographer that took these and see if he can send me the negatives. We might be able to use them on Instagram to summarize the weekend. Miranda left the room to make the call, leaving you alone with Ruben, who had barely acknowledged you this morning.

"I better pack my bags." You said, rising from the sofa. Ruben however, refused to move his legs out of the way to let you pass.

"Excuse me?" You groaned. It wasn't funny, neither of you were laughing. "Ruben?"

His legs wouldn't budge, and you were getting agitated. "What the he'll are you doing, move your..."

Ruben drew back his legs just as you were about to swing at them with your own. This caused you to stumble forwards, almost tripping yourself.

"What was that for?" You frowned.

Ruben's expression was emotionless as he stood, and for the first time the height difference between you was intimidating.

"I...I just wanted to go to my room and pack my bags." You stuttered.

Ruben exhaled. "We need to talk first."

"Talk about what exactly?" You crossed your arms.

"The way you left me last night, it was unprofessional." He said.

"Ruben, I told you that I came down with something." Which was a lie, but it was the best one you could come up with on such short notice.

"And what exactly was it that you came down with?" He asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well you seemed fine when you left my side at the party. What made you suddenly wanna run off Y/N?"

"Ruben, for the third time, I wasn't running,  I just needed to get back to the hotel and lie down."

"So that's where you did it?"

"Did what?" You frowned, his tone spiteful to you.

Ruben shifted in his stance, crossing one arm over the other. "Y/N, I expect you to take your job seriously. For you to then run off with some guy...."

"I didn't run off with some guy."

"Don't lie to me Y/N, John saw you!"

The echoes of his words bounced off the walls. The room fell silent.

Ruben's eyes searched your face, he was angry and wanted answers, rightfully so. "Who is he Y/N, an old flame from your university days?"

"Ruben."

"No." He shook his head. "Don't tell me. It's none of my business." He walked over to the windows, running a hand through his hair.

"Ruben, it's not what it looks like. That guy, he is my...."

"Just know if you ever pull something like that on me again...." He said, slowly turning to you. "I won't be giving you any second chances, understood? Do your job from now on or the next time you're fired."

"There. The photographer gave me the thumbs up. He'll be sending me the...." Miranda stumbled into the room but paused at the sight of you and Ruben. "Everything alright?"

You were staring blankly at each other, something heavy forming in the base of your throat. Your voice shook when you spoke. "I have to pack my bags." You said and ran off into your room, gasping for air once you stood behind closed doors. You were gasping for air from the unstoppable flood of tears.

You were considering your life choices on the journey back to London. What if you just moved aboard and started a new life in some foreign country? No one would know you and you wouldn't have to lie about who you were. You'd be nothing and therefore be someone.

"Y/N! You're back early."

You stepped into Grandma's shop carrying your suitcases. You had forgotten your keys to her apartment but was glad to be welcomed by Jennifer at the front desk. However, her initial joy of seeing you quickly faded. "Oh my god, you're soaking wet. Is it pouring outside?"

"Just a drizzle." You murmured, as she rounded her desk to help usher you inside. "Is my grandma here? I forgot my keys."

"She's in her office, sorting out a golden suit. You won't guess who it's for." She giggled.

"Trent."

Her smile withered. "How did you know?"

You removed your soaked coat. Your shirt beneath had also been ruined.

"Oh my god, tell me about your weekend." She gasped. "London Fashion Week, was it as exciting as they make it to be? And your boss, was she happy with your work?"

"He." You corrected.

"What?"

"My boss is a he, and no he wasn't happy with my work."

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry Y/N. Is he high maintenance when it comes to fashion?"

"No, he's just a fucking dickhead."

"Language."

Grandma walked into the room, pinching a dozen sewing needles between her teeth.

"But he is a dickhead Grandma. And I don't care anymore, I'm not going back to work for him."

Grandma spat out the needles in her mouth, all the pins dropping soundless to the floor. "Well you're not coming back to work for me!"

"But where else am I supposed to go?"

"Home. To your mother, and tell her she's failed to raise her children."

"Ha ha, very funny."

"I'm serious Y/N, you're not staying with me. I'm getting tired of your tardiness, not to mention that furball you've got running around my apartment."

"What does Whiskey Jr, have to do with any of this?"

"He stinks, just like your attitude towards authority."

"I don't have an attitude towards authority. "

The bell above the front door rang in the distance. "Guys?"

"No, tell that to your current boss. I've overheard you talking, I bet he's done with your tardiness as well."

"Hey, guys?"

"What are you talking about Grandma, you don't even know my boss and if you did you would agree that he is a fucking piece of...."

"Y/N, please!"

Your argument with grandma was interrupted by Jenny's objections. She stood by the shop entrance, greeting the customer that had stepped through the door. He was soaked with rainwater from head to toe.

"You have a new client." She said, cheeks as red as they come. You on the other hand, couldn't find the words to speak and so grandma stepped in. "Can I help you sir, we're not open for much longer."

Ruben stepped forward.  "No....I mean yes. I want to speak to Y/N."

"My granddaughter?" She frowned. "And who might you be, young man?"

You shook your head as Ruben met your eyes. However he went ahead anyway. "I'm Ruben, Ruben Dias, her boss."

"Oh. My. Days!"

You saw Jenny bouncing up and down in the  corner of your eye.

"There's no way." She squealed. "There is no fucking way."

"Jenny please." You groaned, begging her to spare Grandma who hadn't been as quick to put two and two together.

"Your boss is Ruben Dias? Of all people." Jenny was clearly overjoyed by the drama unfolding before her. "Y/N, you're basically working for the enemy."

"Please don't be so dramatic". You sighed.

"Does Trent know? He's got to know, right?"

"Trent?"

You looked to Ruben as the name escaped his lips. His eyebrows furrowed. "Is that who you were with in London? Is that the name of your boyfriend, Trent?"

"Ha!" Jenny snorted, slapping a hand against her mouth. "You ran into Trent in London? Oh the drama. I can't."

"For fuck sakes Jenny!"

"Y/N!" The room fell quiet as Grandma's voice rose above all. "Language."

"But grandma..."

"No buts." She said, forcing your silence. "Now." She stepped up to Ruben, examining him. "This young man. Your boss? He has come here to speak to you, let's hear what he has to say."

It was a nightmare come true. Even Ruben seemed a bit taken aback by Grandma's demeanor. However he did gather the courage to address you as if you were the only two people in the room.

"I came here to apologize." He said. "For being a dickhead to you this morning."

Jenny snorted somewhere behind you,  however grandma shot her a glance that made her fall back.

"You have the right to do and see whoever you want. I was just jealous and upset that you chose to do so on the night of my friend's gallery opening. For some reason I really believed that the two of us were...."

"No way." Jenny gasped, once again interrupting you. "You're fucking him too?"

"Oh for the love of..." You grabbed Ruben's arm, pulling him aside, into Grandma's office in the back room. There the two of you were left alone, however this game was getting old, the game of Ruben hurting you then crawling back, begging you to forgive him.

"There's something you should know about me." You said, wanting to get it over with. Ready to get it over with.

"Alright." Ruben nodded. "Tell me."

It was now or never.

"That guy your friend saw me with last night wasn't my boyfriend, or an old flame from my university days."

"No, who was he then?"

Another one bites the dust, you thought. Telling the truth meant that you were going to lose Ruben, just like the truth made you lose your old friends. You sighed before you spoke.  "He is my brother Ruben, my twin brother."

"Oh, okay." There were clear signs of relief coming across Ruben's face, a slight twitch in the corner of his lips.

"His name is Trent, Trent Alexander Arnold. You might recognize the name since..."

"Wait." His expression went stiff again, carved by a deep frown. "Did you say Trent Alexander Arnold? As in..."

You nodded. "Yes, THE Trent Alexander Arnold. Liverpool's right back, however you might know him better as the guy that got booked for trying to punch you out the last time Man City played Liverpool."

Ruben's snort was unexpected. "Tried to, is the right word for what he did."

It made you gasp, as well as playfully nudge his arm. "I'm being serious."

"Trust me Y/N, I'm also trying to be serious. So you're telling me you're related to Trent Alexander Arnold, your twin brother to be exact?"

"Yes. I'm the oldest, if you must know."

Ruben's bright eyes searched your face. But it was unclear to you what had suddenly lightened his mood.

"Is this the reason?" He asked."

"What reason?"

"Why don't you want to be with me? Because of who your brother is. My "rival" in the football world?"

"Well that and the fact that you are my employer which would label our relationship as highly inappropriate."

"Yes, but it's mainly because of your brother, no? You worry about what he will think of you, of us. It's why you had him take you home the other night,  because you didn't want the two of us to meet, no?"

You nodded. "He doesn't know that I'm your stylist. And I don't think that I want him to. The truth would send him through the roof." You still wondered why it hadn't sent Ruben through the roof,  what was his angle?

"Y/N, I don't give a fuck about who your brother is?" He said this in a way that shook your core. Ruben then stepped forward, grabbing your face between his hands, tilting your head upwards. "Can we stop pretending that what we have between us isn't real?" He chuckled. "Can you just accept the fact that I want you and you want me Y/N?"

"You want me to run into your arms?"

He frowned. "What?"

"Like the girl in the painting." You smiled. "He's waiting for her to run into his arms."

"Yes." Ruben nodded. "Exactly. Come to me, run into my arms."

You crashed into his lips instead, with Ruben initiating it by pulling your face towards his. Just like that you we're back to square one, the game between you having stepped into a second round. And the next round was guaranteed to involve less tears and more fistfights.

[ineedhaikyu]

Precious Memories- Bokuto x fem! Reader

~

Summary: As another school year came to an end, (Y/N) reminisces the moment where she became best friends with Bokuto and how he opened her eyes to the world of volleyball.

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF!! I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF LOL

A/N: My first Haikyu x reader fic. I’m an Asahi girl but my sister practically begged for this. She loves Bokuto so much so I decided why not. Hope you enjoy reading! Gif belongs to @reallysaltykou​ 

​~

“(Y/N)-CHAN!” Bokuto’s happy-go-lucky voice echoed in the gym as he ran up to her. The volleyball-loving boy wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. “We finished our second year! Isn’t that great?”

Leave it to her best friend Bokuto to put a smile on her face. He was always a beam of positivity ever since they were first years. She couldn’t believe that two years had passed by already.

(Y/N) hugged Bokuto back and laughed when he twirled her around in his arms. “It is. I can’t believe we’re going to be in our third year! Oh, by the way, did you get your yearbook?”

“Yep! A lot of people signed it but I made sure to save a spot for my best friend. You guys did a great job! This yearbook is so awesome!”

The girl smiled. “Glad you liked it, Kotaro, but you and the volleyball team made it awesome. You guys made it to Nationals after all. It’s why I was able to convince the yearbook editor to let me add a couple of extra pages to show the team’s success in making it to Nationals.”

“Really?! No wonder! You’re so awesome!” Bokuto looked over his shoulder. “Hey, Akaashi! Look! (Y/N) is here!”

Akaashi Keiji. A first-year (now going into his second year) that made up their little trio. Though he was a year younger than her and Bokuto, the calm and composed setter easily found his rhythm in the group.

Because before he came, no one on the volleyball team was able to keep up with Bokuto’s energy and as a result the silver-haired male would often beg her to make sets. At first, (Y/N) refused but when she saw his ‘emo mode’ coming she crumbled at the sight.

So she was forever grateful that someone like Akaashi came into her and Bokuto’s lives. At the very least she can count on Akaashi to be there for Bokuto. He already has the hang of dealing with Bokuto’s mood swings and mentally compiling a list of the ace’s weaknesses.

“Hello (Y/N)-senpai.” The setter greeted her.

“Akaashi, how are you? Bokuto isn’t pushing you too hard, is he?”

“(Y/N)!” Bokuto squawked. “I would never!”

Akaashi couldn’t help but smirk a little. “I’m doing well, thank you. Also congratulations on finishing your second year.”

“Ah, thanks and congrats on being a first-year in Nationals. I made sure to mention that fact in the yearbook.”

“Really?” The setter didn’t have the time to review the yearbook so this took him by surprise. “You didn’t have to.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Of course I do. Your skills were amazing. Aren’t they, Bokuto?”

Bokuto nodded. “Your sets are the best, Akaashi. My spikes were so easy to make! The other team didn’t have a chance!”

“See?” She brought her yearbook out and showed him the page dedicated to the boys volleyball team. “I made sure to get good shots of you and Bokuto together.”

After signing each other’s yearbook, the boys continued to look at the yearbook and offered their praises. While she accepted their compliments with a smile, (Y/N) couldn’t help but recall the time she first met the ace for the first time.

Flashback

Freshly enrolled at Fukurodani Academy, a first-year (Y/N) immediately applied to become a member of the photography club from which she learned that members of the photography club are also in charge of the yearbook. It wasn’t long when the yearbook editor gave her first assignment:

Shadowing the Fukurodani’s Boys Volleyball Team.

At the time, (Y/N) didn’t realize how desirable her spot was until many of her senpais offered their congratulations and her fellow classmates expressed how ‘lucky’ she was to get this assignment. Why was she ‘lucky’? Obviously, she played the sport back in middle school as part of PE class. She knew the basics. So why? What was so special about volleyball? It was just a game.

That all changed when (Y/N) went to her first official game. Never had she clicked the shutter button so many times before. She lost count on the amount of times she went from anxious to excited throughout the three sets against another Tokyo powerhouse school. Of course, she wanted her school to win. She had pride after all.

It wasn’t until her hopes of winning were dashed when a third-year regular injured himself at the final set. Oh well… Better luck next time. She focused her camera lens on the person who was subbing in. She didn’t have to look at the roster to recognize him.

Bokuto Kotaro

He was a first-year just like her, not in the same class as her but she had to be completely oblivious to the loud, overly friendly, and playful guy who can go from happy one minute to a sad boy in the next.

(Y/N) zoomed her camera to focus on him and she was taken aback by the lack of nervousness on his face. Instead, his golden eyes shined with excitement with a wide smile to match.

For some reason she couldn’t explain, (Y/N) decided this next shot was the one. No, that’s not right. She knew why. The momentum, the atmosphere, the tension, the hunger for victory… Everything was riding on Bokuto to make the point to secure their win.

She had to capture this moment!

At the sound of the whistle, (Y/N) wasted no time in pressing the shutter button repeatedly, hoping that one of these photos could work. With one last click from her camera, she watched the course of the volleyball with new found anticipation.

She squeezed her camera as the opponent pulled off a shaky receive. She bit her lip as the other team’s setter set the ball for their team’s ace. She refrained herself from letting out an excited squeal when Fukurodani was able to soft block it.

From the middle blocker’s block, the libero pulled off a receive. From the libero’s receive, the setter was able to set.

“LEFT! LEFT!”

By muscle memory, (Y/N) brought her camera into the perfect position just in time to capture this moment. Her finger pressed the shutter button at the same time Bokuto’s hand slammed the ball with brute force. The volleyball bounced off the hardwood floor of the gym before soaring into the audience. For about five seconds, the gym was void of any sound until-

“ALRIGHT!” Bokuto raised both of his fists into the air. His smile was even wider than before. “HEY! HEY! HEY!”

The audience cheered with him. The sounds of applause and whistles filled the air along with the praises from the Fukurodani players directed to the person who secured victory.

With one last click of her camera, (Y/N) smiled at the scene before her. Bokuto looked so happy amongst his teammates. It wasn’t until a gentle nudge on her arm brought her out of her trance. (Y/N) looked up to see her senpai that accompanied her to the match.

The older girl held out a tissue. “You're crying, (Y/N)-san.”

“I am?” True enough, there were tears slowly escaping from the corner of her eyes. How long were those tears there? How did she not notice? A bit embarrassed, (Y/N) accepted the tissue. “Thank you senpai.”

“How do you like volleyball now?” The third-year asked her underclassman, knowing she wasn’t a huge fan of the sport. “Any change of opinion?”

(Y/N) fiddled with her camera’s neck strap. She took a quick peek at Fukurodani’s players, specifically Bokuto, before answering, “I think…”

The upperclassman strained her ears to hear the shy girl’s answer.

(Y/N) smiled genuinely. “I think I can get into it.”

The glint in her (E/C) showed determination only strengthened her answer and honestly it was a relief for the older girl. She can pass on the torch into (Y/N)’s hands knowing the girl will do her best to capture these moments. The senpai smiled down at her kohai. She remembered the first time going to a volleyball match. She’ll never forget this feeling and she hoped that (Y/N) wouldn’t either. This was her last year documenting the volleyball team, but it was only the beginning for (Y/N).

“Remember this, (Y/N)-san.”

“Yes, senpai?”

“Never let these moments be forgotten because one day these photographs may become something precious to someone.”

“Hai.”

“Alright. Let’s go. I’ll treat you to some ramen!”

As they were leaving the gym, (Y/N) inspected all of her pictures and stopped at a particular one. It was of Bokuto during his jump serve. She smiled once more as she replayed the memory.

Maybe volleyball wasn’t just a game. Maybe she was lucky after all.

~

The next day was a normal school day at Fukurodani Academy. It was lunch time and (Y/N) was waiting for a certain silver-haired individual to be left alone. However, that wasn’t going to be the case. Ever since he scored the winning point, his popularity soared to greater heights and as a result he was surrounded by his friends and new admirers.

(Y/N) held her portfolio folder tighter. She printed the pictures from yesterday’s game and she thought it was only right for Bokuto to see them before anyone else. Obviously, in private. She would be so embarrassed if everyone saw her photos at once… Which, of course, didn’t make sense. Photos are meant to be looked at. She was just not confident enough. What if he didn’t like them? What if he calls her photos trash? Oh, god. What if he doesn’t like having his picture take-

“Hey, hey, hey! You’re the camera girl, right?”

The girl jumped when she saw the Kotaro Bokuto right next to her. His gray blazer was unbuttoned, his white collared shirt was completely untucked, and his blue/white striped tie was loosely tied. (Y/N) wondered if this was intentional or if he just didn’t care about the school’s dress code. She could only imagine the former.

“Oh, um, yeah. I'm camera girl?” She bowed and introduced herself. “My name is (L/N) (Y/N). I’m in Class 1-5. It’s nice to meet you.”

Bokuto could mentally hear his mother and older sisters telling him that he has to act properly with a girl. “Bokuto Kotaro. Nice to meet you too, (L/N)-chan. So did you get some great shots yesterday?”

“I did,” (Y/N) caressed her folder with her thumb and softly smiled as she felt excitement course through her veins. “I never thought volleyball could get so exciting.”

This of course brought the boy’s attention. “Are you serious?!”

(Y/N) faltered a bit at his sudden loudness. She wasn’t used to his extrovert personality and the proof was evident when everyone in the hallway carried on as normal, ignoring the two first-years.

“Please tell me that it was your first time watching a volleyball match!”

“Uh… No?” (Y/N) averted her gaze to the ground. “I’ve seen volleyball on TV but it never really caught my interest. I usually change the channel when it’s on. Never really liked it during middle school either…”

It was as if each word that came out of her mouth was a dagger and each dagger was perfectly aimed at his heart. He could feel his hair deflate as he pouted deeper and deeper. He wanted to cry. Hide in a small, dark area where no one would find him and cry.

(Y/N) looked back at the boy in front of her and she could feel her heart fall from her chest to her stomach. This must be Bokuto’s ‘emo mode’ she heard so much about.

“B-Bokuto-san? Please don’t be sad.”

“I can’t,” His voice sounded so hollow and his eyes lost their shine. “What you just said was the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Not wanting to create a scene, (Y/N)’s mind raced to find a solution. “I have some grilled meat left from my bento, you can have it if you want-”

Bokuto visibly perked up at the girl’s offer. “Grilled meat? My favorite!”

~

“So,” Bokuto finished eating the last piece of delicious grilled meat and stared at the girl in front of him. They opted to sit in her classroom where it was less occupied. “Why do you hate volleyball?”

“Huh?” (Y/N) furrowed her brows at his question. “I never said I hated it.”

“But you did!”

She was sure -100% positive- that she never used the word hate and she was just about to point it out when a thought popped into her mind. What if -for Bokuto- the words ‘hate’ and ‘never liked’ meant the same thing to him? So does that mean her ‘normal’ and his ‘normal’ were completely different? Most likely.

“You know maybe that’s for the best.”

“Huh?” Bokuto tilted his head in confusion.

(Y/N) swallowed nervously before placing her portfolio folder on the desk in front of Bokuto. This was it. He’s going to see her work for the first time. With a bit of courage, (Y/N) opened up both literally (as she opened her folder) and figuratively (as this was the start of her friendship with the extrovert).

“I didn’t understand what the hype over volleyball was all about.” Bokuto opened his mouth, ready to defend his beloved sport so (Y/N) quickly continued, “But you changed that.”

“I have?”

(Y/N) nodded excitedly and flipped the pages of her portfolio before stopping at the one picture of the boy himself successfully completing a jump serve.

“Is that…” Bokuto couldn’t even finish his sentence. He was rendered speechless by the image.

“That was the moment,” (Y/N) gazed at the image with such admiration that she no longer felt nervous about sharing her work. “You helped me realize that volleyball isn’t just a game but a battle on the court. The momentum was crazy!”

Bokuto grinned at her words. “I know, right?! What did you think about my serve?”

No longer feeling shy, (Y/N) scooted to the edge of her seat. The smile on her face could match Bokuto’s. “That was amazing! I thought it was game over when your teammate injured himself but you came in and…and… I don’t know. Breathed new life into the game, I guess. It’s hard to explain-”

“No, no, no. I know exactly what you're talking about. It’s the best thing about volleyball. Anything can happen in a split second. When I was subbed in, I felt all eyes on me.”

“Weren’t you nervous?”

“Of course not! It was my chance to prove to everyone I’m here. That’s what Coach Yamiji told me. He told me I was the team’s secret weapon and the other team never expected me to be so awesome. Now, I have a chance to be in the starting line-up in the next match!” Bokuto looked back at the picture of himself, his heart beating rapidly with happiness. “I want to become the best ace this school has ever had!”

(Y/N) felt goosebumps on her skin at Bokuto’s declaration. Was this what confidence does to a person? Could she ever gain such confidence in her skills like Bokuto is with volleyball?

“This is an awesome picture! And this one! That one, too!” Bokuto’s grin never faltered as he flipped through her portfolio. “Wow, you even got me spiking the winning point! You’re amazing!”

Her (E/C) eyes filled with hope. “Y-You like them?”

“Like them? I LOVE THEM!” Bokuto’s confession could be heard from the hallway, causing some students to peer into the classroom. “I’ve never had my picture professionally taken before.”

“P-Professional?” (Y/N) could feel the heat rise from her neck to her face. “Th-They’re not that good, Bokuto-san. I still have a lot to learn.”

Bokuto wasn’t having it. “What are you talking about? These are great! Be more confident in yourself, (L/N)-chan.”

(Y/N) watched as he continued to marvel at her work and she couldn’t help the warm feeling of pride blossom within her. While Bokuto insisted her pictures were top-tier, (Y/N) knew that there was more she had to learn, but for now, she’ll take Bokuto’s words to heart.

“Alright. Then please call me by my first name.” She extended her hand towards him. “I look forward to working with you, future ace. I can’t wait for what you do next.”

Bokuto grinned at her confidence. With both hands, the male shook the girl’s entire arm. “I’ll do my best, (Y/N)-chan. Just you watch. When I become the ace, you're going to be in love with volleyball and it will be thanks to me! Bokuto Kotaro! Hey! Hey! Hey!”

The girl laughed. “When you become the ace, my camera and I will be there.”

Bokuto beamed once more. “Call me Kotaro. I have a feeling we’re going to be best friends.”

“I think so too!”

End of Flashback

(Y/N) chuckled softly at her core memory. Bokuto has kept his word ever since then and in return she has as well. Countless memories were shared between them and even more when Akaashi joined the group.

She was there to celebrate every win. She was there to mourn every loss but during those rare moments (Y/N) has watched Bokuto pick himself up and continue to play his heart out in the next match.

Of course, along the way, (Y/N) has met with other great people from other schools. She never thought she would get the chance to meet the people that make up a powerhouse team. There was Kuroo from Nekoma, Ushijima and Tendo from Shiratorizawa, and even Sakusa from Itachiyama. Along with the rest of their respective teams, it was no wonder they were contenders in the Spring Tournament.

But for some reason, the silver-haired boy was just an inch above the rest. Biased or not, it was Bokuto that introduced her to volleyball and (Y/N) would always be grateful for that.

“I can’t wait for next year!” Bokuto’s loud voice brought her back to reality. “It’s going to be so awesome!” With one hand over her shoulder and the other over Akaashi’s, “Let’s practice my cross shots!”

Both her and Akaashi looked at each other and laughed. Bokuto tilted his head to one side, confused as to why his best friends were laughing. Nonetheless, he laughed with them too.

“Alright,” (Y/N) smiled at her friends. “But first let’s take a picture.”

As (Y/N) took out her phone and Bokuto marveled at the various filters and stickers, Akaashi took a moment to analyze. He knew his seniors were close but he always wondered if there was a possibility that the two could be something more than just friends. And he wasn’t the only one who thought that either -the volleyball team, the managers, even the coaches- all watched from the sidelines whenever Bokuto and (Y/N) interacted with one another, hoping to see a confession.

It was the classic best friends-falling-for-another-but-they’re-both-oblivious scenario and everyone wants to know the ending. They’ve seen how the two of you are to each other. There were so many example to choose from, such as:

If there was an upcoming math test, (Y/N) would give out her notes to help Bokuto out. She would even spend the night at his place to make sure the lessons stuck, making a great impression on his family at the same time.

Bokuto would gladly volunteer to be (Y/N)’s muse in any of her projects, no matter the project’s purpose. As mentioned before, (Y/N) would help set the ball for the ace but she would put her foot down if HOURS have gone by, stating that resting is just as important. She would later treat Bokuto to his favorite meal afterwards.

Before Akaashi, (Y/N) was the only person to bring Bokuto out of his ‘emo mode’. The team knew this early on.

Washio, Sarukai, Konoha, Komi, etc.: Come on Bokuto. It was just a practice match. Don’t beat yourself up.

Bokuto: *pouts and hugs his knees tighter as he hides between the gym mats* I can’t. I was terrible.

Managers: We need (Y/N).

Coach: Someone go get (Y/N)!

Ten minutes later, ✨(Y/N) the savior✨ arrived.

(Y/N): Kotaro, please don’t be sad. It’s called a practice match for a reason. Please don’t beat yourself up. I know you. This isn’t going to stop you from becoming a great ace. We all believe in you.

Bokuto: *visibly perks up, eyes bright, and smiling brightly* You’re right! I will be a great ace. Hey, hey, hey!

And just like that, Bokuto was back to normal.

Washio, Sarukai, Konoha, Komi, etc.: We said the same thing and now he gets hyped up. What’s up with that?

Managers: Don’t question it. It’s different when he hears it from (Y/N).

After that, it was declared that (Y/N) was a member of the volleyball team. Position: Hype-woman.

Bokuto met her parents on an unplanned visit. Her parents were wary of him at first but that soon changed when they noticed how their usual reserved daughter grew more confident. From then on, they welcomed Bokuto.

Every away game the team has to take a bus and surprise surprise Bokuto claimed the seat next to (Y/N). The two of them would play games, tell childhood stories, take silly pictures or just share funny memes on social media. It’s late on the way back home. No one had any trouble sleeping. Akaashi was the first to wake up when the bus finally arrived at its destination. He was just about to wake everyone when he saw a rare sight: a sleeping Bokuto and (Y/N). Her head on his shoulder with his jacket covering her body while Bokuto’s head rested on her own. Akaashi quietly took out his phone and took a picture. And while the jacket covered (Y/N) like a blanket, Akaashi had a sneaking suspicion that the two were holding hands as they slept.

Akaashi would save the picture until he finds the right moment to share it -either graduation or whenever the two finally become a couple. He hoped for the latter.

When the team made it to Nationals, after hugging his team with pride, Bokuto immediately looked for (Y/N) amongst the various photographers in the gym. He easily found her and ran up to her with great speed before hugging her tightly. Neither one of them noticed how the cheers from the Fukurodani audience section grew louder.

“Akaashi!” (Y/N) waved him over, her phone in her hand. “Come on, we’re waiting for you!”

“Ah, sorry.”

“What were you thinking about Akaashi?” Bokuto asked.

“Oh, just some memories.”

(Y/N) gave him an understanding smile. At the same time, the words of her senpai from two years ago ran once more in her mind. “Never let these moments be forgotten because one day these photographs may become something precious to someone.”

“Well, let’s capture this memory while we can.”

“Oh! Let me take the picture. Please, (Y/N)? I won’t disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me, Bokuto.”

Bokuto felt his heart skip a beat at her words. Was he getting warm? He felt warm. Oh, he was in the gym. That’s the only reason, right?

With (Y/N) in between the volleyball players, she brought her arms over each of their shoulders. “Ok, smile everybody! Nationals on three! One…”

Akaashi made a peace sign with his hand. Mentally, he prayed to any god up there. That next year was the year a confession will happen. “Two…”

“Three!”

“NATIONALS!”

~

And that’s a wrap! Let me know what you think! Next fic will definitely be about the ace-with-the-glass-heart Asahi!!!!

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 3/5

Book Blurb:

The New York Times bestselling author Katherine Center's next laugh out loud, feel good rom-com about writing your own story.

She’s rewriting his love story. But can she rewrite her own?

Emma Wheeler desperately longs to be a screenwriter. She’s spent her life studying, obsessing over, and writing romantic comedies—good ones! That win contests! But she’s also been the sole caretaker for her kind-hearted dad, who needs full-time care. Now, when she gets a chance to re-write a script for famous screenwriter Charlie Yates—The Charlie Yates! Her personal writing god!—it’s a break too big to pass up.

Emma’s younger sister steps in for caretaking duties, and Emma moves to L.A. for six weeks for the writing gig of a lifetime. But what is it they say? Don’t meet your heroes? Charlie Yates doesn’t want to write with anyone—much less “a failed, nobody screenwriter.” Worse, the romantic comedy he’s written is so terrible it might actually bring on the apocalypse. Plus! He doesn’t even care about the script—it’s just a means to get a different one green-lit. Oh, and he thinks love is an emotional Ponzi scheme.

But Emma’s not going down without a fight. She will stand up for herself, and for rom-coms, and for love itself. She will convince him that love stories matter—even if she has to kiss him senseless to do it. But . . . what if that kiss is accidentally amazing? What if real life turns out to be so much . . . more real than fiction? What if the love story they’re writing breaks all Emma’s rules—and comes true?

Review:

A rom com lover who dreams about making it as a screenwriter gets the opportunity of a lifetime, working with her favorite famous screenwriter on his new rom com movie script... except he's not as charming or wonderful as she had hoped, and he refuses to work with a "nobody"... can she really write this rom com? Emma Wheeler loves rom coms, she's longed to make it as a screenwriter and is good enough to have won contests and even be offered an internship... but she's had to give it up in order to look after her father who was injured in an accident that killed her mother too....an accident she feels responsible for. Emma then gets a call from her manager with the job opportunity of a lifetime, to re-write a script for the famous screenwriter Charlie Yates, the same Charlie Yates that Emma has been obsessed with since forever. This is her dream job and she immediately gets on a plane to go... leaving her younger sister to step in for caretaking duties while Emma moves to L.A. for six weeks. Yet when she mets Charlie she is absolutely shocked to discover he is nothing like she imagined, he in fact is an egotistical, rude, and plain mean guy who refuses to work with a "failed, nobody screenwriter" despite the fact that his script is so terrible it could destroy his career, oh and the fact that he doesn't even want to write a rom com, he just wants a passable script to send off... and the fact that he doesn't believe in love. Emma is determined to change his mind about rom coms and love, despite the fact that he belittles her, treats her like dirt, and is so combative about everything, Emma wants to change his mind. Yet the more time she spends with him the more she begins to fall for him... yet can the same be said for him? Or is this all just to get the script he needs to get funding for his next movie project? This started off with potential... however I just couldn't ever get around to actually liking either character or enjoying their romance at all. I'm going to be honest, I just disliked Charlie overall, he really didn't endear me, he didn't come off as a great love interest after everything, and honestly he just got on my nerves. I really wish I did like this but the character's love story just didn't fit well enough for me and if I'm being honest i got a bit annoyed with both characters throughout the story. Both Emma and Charlie are going through a lot of their own issues but Charlie constantly taking it out on Emma and Emma just being his punching bag just didn't feel that great. It's an okay romance but it's definitely not one of my favorite ones from Katherine Center. I've loved Katherine's other books and will absolutely be reading her future works, this one just missed the mark a. bit for me. If you like opposites attract then give this one a go, maybe you'll have a better time with it than I did.

Release Date: June 11,2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and St. Martin's Press for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[kierrasreads]

Tales from the cafe by Toshikazu Kawaguchi Review

SPOILERS AHEAD

Plot

In a small back alley in Tokyo, there is a café which has been serving carefully brewed coffee for more than 100 years. But this coffee shop offers its customers a unique experience: the chance to travel back in time....

From the author of Before the Coffee Gets Cold comes a story of four new customers, each of whom is hoping to take advantage of Cafe Funiculi Funicula's time-travelling offer.

Among some faces that will be familiar to listeners of Kawaguchi's previous novel, we will be introduced to:

The man who goes back to see his best friend who died 22 years ago,

The son who was unable to attend his own mother’s funeral,

The man who travelled to see the girl who he could not marry,

The old detective who never gave his wife that gift....

This beautiful, simple tale tells the story of people who must face up to their past in order to move on with their lives. Kawaguchi once again invites the listener to ask themselves: what would you change if you could travel back in time?

Discussion

This book actually made me cry. While all of the stories were sad, "Married Couple" got to me the most. Not only do we see Kiyoshi travel back in time and talk with Kazu's mother, we learn that Kazu is pregnant. We also learn more about Kazu's tragic backstory. I legit cried when Kazu finally allows herself to be happy and her mother's ghost vanishes, seemingly to move on once she knows that her daughter has finally let go of the guilt that she's been carrying for over 20 years.

When I read "Kazu's spring has just begun," I had to set the book down and process the array of emotions that I was experiencing at that moment. I honestly relate to Kazu; I'm still grieving the death of my beloved aunt, who tragically passed away two years ago this May. For a while, I just felt numb and went about with business as usual: going to class, doing homework, and going to work teaching first graders how to use blocks of ten to figure out math problems or teaching college students how to use semicolons and how to correctly cite an article using APA 7th edition. I refused to confront my grief until one day, I allowed myself to face my feelings and begin the slow process of healing. I know that I sound like a walking cliche, allowing myself to actually feel something, but until you go through those stages of grief, you won't understand. Yukio is another demonstration of the guilt that's always chained to grief; he does turn his life around, reinstating the adage "it's never too late to start over."

Kawaguchi sensei's writing style is beautiful, with a few awkward bumps along the way. I'm not sure if that's tied to a translation issue or if Kawaguchi sensei did that purposefully. Regardless, his poignant writing style strikes an emotional cord. Through his use of third-person omniscient, the reader feels what the amateur time travelers are feeling.

There are some content warnings, so I'm listing them here:

D*ath

Grief

Loss of parent

Miscarriage

Cancer

S*icidal thoughts/s*icide mentioned

I cannot emphasize this enough, you need to read this series. My next review will be on Before Your Memory Fades, the third book of this series. I just know that it'll be as good as its predecessors.

Rating

5/5

[doctor-looneys-remedy]

Stop the excuses.

But, before I get into what I have to say about people and excuses, I'm going to pop in a little disclaimer. Maybe, just maybe, MAYBE, you believe your own bullshit.

If you fall into this category, let me give you a pro-tip: from a person with a lot of life experience, NEVER, EVER believe your own bullshit. It won't do you any good. Life won't arrange itself around the maypole you created. It just won't.

For the past however long this has been, I have heard excuse after excuse from people for voting for that guy.

PSST... come here. Yeah, you, come here...

we all know it ain't the price of eggs. And you know it, too.

I heard that Kamala didn't have any policies, which, is funny since she reiterated the same several key policies every single time she talked. Like, EVERY single time she talked. If I had to bet on it, I would bet none of the people who said this bothered to look at her website. I mean, if it can be cured with a quick Google search at this point, and you refuse to do even that minor bit of legwork, it isn't a reason, its an excuse. And we all know it. You carry a computer in your pocket every day.

Unless, of course, you are just so damn narcissistic that you expect her to come to your house personally and hold your hand and explain everything to you while she spoonfeeds you applesauce, YOU BABY.

Grow up and research candidates if you don't know. It's part of your obligation as a voting citizen to find out. You aren't the judge on a celebrity fashion show.

I have heard its the woke stuff. Well, buddy, you are about to see what comes on the other side of that woke stuff, and it is going to hurt like a bitch. Should I buy you a box of melba toast?

I heard its a Gaza protest vote. It's about the Ukraine war. Let me tell you something: Your vote doesn't have a why stuck to it at the end of the day. There is no "comments" section on your ballot. There is no yellow sticky note that the candidates all get to consider. This isn't a yelp review. All that matters is who wins and how they plan to move forward. Maybe by the next cycle a candidate or party can regroup, but by then, the damage can be long done. And we all know Trump isn't going to be kind to Gaza. And let me say this, because I really want people to hear it loud and clear: You would have to be doing some drugs I am yet unfamiliar with to believe that he would be.

And yes, you may not like the war in Ukraine. Yes, it is dragging on. Wars aren't pretty. They aren't easy. They aren't quick. They are expensive. You aren't going to get an Amazon delivery war. You aren't going to get a Wish/Temu discount war. That doesn't happen, pumpkin. AS A QUICK REMINDER: there was one war in Europe that lasted 100 years.

I don't like war, I'm not in anyway a hawkish type, and the idea of suffering and bickering over pieces of ground isn't something I relish, but a peace that just plows over people isn't somehow better.

Should I put your teething ring in the freezer?

I heard its the border. And yet again, I'll reiterate that they had a bipartisan border bill that was shot down by Trump's allies. Maybe get your senators in fucking line, assholes. You want a border bill passed? if that is what is important to you, why aren't you sitting outside your senator's office asking them why they shot it down? Why aren't you taking those asshats to task for shooting down the bill that was offered that apparently everyone liked until Trump whined about it like the little bitch he is?

Because you are full of shit. That's why. You want to believe that the president is supposed to fairy-godmother bills and budgets into being. Like government is supposed to be some pumpkin that turns into a carriage just for you, poopsie pie.

Maybe this generation needs more Schoolhouse Rock. "I'm just a bill, I am only a bill, and I'm sitting here on Capital Hill... "

Wait wait wait.... They had a sale on Gerber and Beech Nut. I have plenty more mashed peas for you.

My favorite thing that I have read is that it would have been ok if she had been a classier woman or other stuff about her dating history. Which is the funniest damn thing I think I have ever read, considering ya'll voted for the tackiest man you could literally have ever found. A real cocaine-with-hookers sleazeball. A guy with a GOLDEN TOILET that owns an apartment that makes the early 80's blush. A man who has multiple affairs and paid off a porn star. You cannot stand on a concept like class when your dude has a golden toilet. You just can't.

Take that whole class/reputation/whatever shit and just shove it where that thermometer goes. Because I'm not going to hear it.

I also am amazed that people tried to sell us on the idea that someone who was a district attorney in a large city, who had experience in the senate and also had 4 years as a vice president, was somehow... Unqualified.

Unqualified. Unqualified with a similar record to men who have run whose qualifications were never questioned.

Or when news pundits acted surprised that she handled herself well in a debate. AGAIN, she was a DISTRICT ATTORNEY in a major city. Did you think she couldn't ... argue? Seems like a hell of a take.

OR... and this is my favorite... that at least Trump is funny. At least he isn't boring.

I am from the age of boring politics. Let me tell you something, you goddamn children: YOU WANT BORING POLITICS. Boring politics is a sign of a country that isn't going to hell in a handbasket. Boring politics is the machine working like it is supposed to, it is people doing their job every day to make shit work. Its building respect and coalitions that work together for mutual solutions. Not boring? That's bad news. I miss the days when C Span was a delightfully boring snooze fest.

If you want entertainment, you have infinite options elsewhere, YOU SPOILED BABY. The world isn't obligated to cater to you and your whims.

At the end of the day, all these full-of-holes excuses don't actually matter. Because we all know they are excuses. Like the eggs you bitch about while you buy another TV or $75 skin cream.

Maybe the blame lies somewhat on the internet and what it offers. The easy constant entertainment. The cheap goods. The quick turnaround. TikTok shoving questionable "facts" into your face. Maybe.

But, I expect I'm right. They are all just excuses, even if you managed to gaslight yourself into believing them.

Either way, better buckle into that carseat, kiddo.

[squids-and-jellyfish]

The Phantom Thief

part 7

Some time later she is woken by two women arguing above her whether they should wake her or not. Opening her eyes to see Lili and Callie standing on either side. “What time is it?” She asks while rubbing her sleepy eyes. “Late” Callie responds in a low monotone voice. Her jet black hair is darker than the night sky. The rest of her attire was different from what she had on earlier during the potluck portion of the day. Now wearing a long purple and black dress adorned with silver jewelry of suns, moons and stars around her neck and arms. If anyone wanted to look the part of a mysterious psychic with mystic abilities, it was Callie as if she were saying I wear my insightful heart on my sleeve. Anyone who didn't know would look at her and immediately want a fortune reading. If you compared her to Lili you would be baffled by how exact opposite they looked beside one another. A bright pinks and green cheerful girl versus the other dark and spooky, seemingly enveloped by shadows of the night. “We've brought you a lantern to light” she continues passing a yellow square water lantern to Claire. “Don't forget the fireworks too!” Lili chimes in. “Oh that's right, you've never done this before. So in just a few minutes everyone's going to the shore line to release the lanterns and once they're out a little ways they'll set off the fireworks. My favorite part is watching them from the waters reflection intertwined with the lights” She explains, singing “I just think it's so magical!” “You can watch with us” Callie adds, walking away.

In the few seconds it took her to slip her sandals back on they were already halfway across the beach. Running she chased after them. Catching up when they were at the water's edge. For two ladies moving at a casual stroll they sure do walk fast she thought. Imagining them scurrying like crabs and then just taking off in a sprint. What a silly idea, laughing to herself. “It's so quiet and peaceful out here” she whispered. Nothing but the sound of soft whooshes and gentle murmurs as candles are passed around. Suddenly a realization hits her like a light bulb moment in her mind. “Hey where is Mayor Thomas and The Governor? I haven't seen either of them since this afternoon when he stormed off back into town.” emphasizing how ridiculous it is to go by title and in part she didn't know his real name. “Didn't you hear, they got into a huge argument and now he's hold up in his house refusing to come out or even talk to anyone.” she paused for a beat collecting the nerve to ask “So I'm guessing we didn't get a good review then?” The girls shared a glance before turning to Claire and silently shaking their heads. Shit that's not good. “What does that mean?” “That means it's tomorrow's problem.” Lili offers a sweet smile calming her nerves.

They made idle chit chat as they placed their lanterns in water, watching them slowly drift out to sea. Bobbing up and down with the soft waves. Then the air filled with the sounds of whistling followed by loud booms, crackles and fizzy sizzles. The night sky became a collage of bright colors dancing through darkness. From large dandelion puffs to fun shapes like hearts, actual flowers and even a few smiley faces. She'd never seen such a diverse display. Half way through a hand nudged her side, a reminder to look at the water too. Claire dropped her gaze to see an even more breath taking view than she expected. “It's….beautiful” she could barely get out, drowning in awe. A cold breeze blew between them sending chills down her spine. Fall had officially arrived

[legends-of-time]

The Strength of a High and Noble Hill (Outlander)

Chapter 46: Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has liked the chapters.

——

March 1771

A young girl, who introduced herself as Miss Martin, beams up to him happily as Brian dances on the dance floor with her to the Irish music being played. Of all his dancing companions, she's the one who he's enjoyed the most as by most beauty standards she's considered rather plain which means there's no confident flirtatious attitude and just a happy young girl to be noticed. She had blushed when Brian had offered his hand to her and had needed a quick nudge from her elderly companion, Miss Bledsoe before she stuttered out a reply. He had asked her because she wasn't making obvious eyes at him but to also get out of having to do another spin with Jemima Hatfield.

Brian, Mama, Da, Ellen and Roger had all been invited to the wedding of Jocasta Cameron and Duncan Innes at River Run. They had received the invitation a month previous and had all responded they would attend but then a day or two before they would leave to begin their journey, Jemmy had begun showing symptoms of a cold. Roger and Ellen had decided that they would sit out the wedding to take care of Jemmy. 

When news of Jocasta and Duncan Innes' engagement reached the Ridge, the shock was an understatement of what they felt. They had thought that once everything had come to pass with the Regulators, she and Murtagh would have made their way back to each other and would finally be together and marry. They have had no way of getting in contact with Murtagh to get his take on this, but talking to Jocasta once they'd arrived at River Run about her soon-to-be husband, the indifferent look on her face speaks everything she can't say out loud. This isn't a marriage for love, but for ease and stability; and that is something Brian cannot get out of his head.

It should be Murtagh.

Another point of business was the review of Jocasta's new will. Considering Brian's refusal, just like his parents, to want to own the plantation, River Run will now be left to Jemmy. Gerald Forbes, as a wedding guest, is the lawyer overseeing the proceedings. Jocasta would sign the contract that names Jemmy as the heir of River Run with Da as a witness, and it would be put into action immediately. Jocasta will serve as the guardian of the plantation until Jemmy comes of age. It's the best for everyone as Jocasta gets to live out her life in her home and won't be pushed out early (if the revolution doesn't do that).

The house has had a new layer of paint and the front courtyard is neat and flowered for the festivities. A large pergola has been erected on the other side of the river with a boat carrying people on the other side of the river to the festivities. Inside the pergola, laughter and the tinkling of the crystal float in the air while slaves in livery bring plates filled with food and drinks. The guests at the wedding are in large clothes, eat, mix with the different groups and converse. Brian is in the middle of it all, trying to fend off advances from all the eligible ladies. Not that the female attention isn't unwelcome, it's just a bit much and currently he has his eye on someone though he's not sure he's even here.

The song ends and Brian spits his parents walking amongst the crowd, avoiding the eye of two elderly women, the Misses MacNeils, who have been suggesting and nudging him towards what they describe as eligible ladies, and quickly makes his way over, hoping they'll act as a block to anymore dance partners.

"You did very well out there." Mama compliments, smiling. Da stays quiet, frowning at everyone around them. Something he's been doing since they've left the Ridge.

"I was trying to survive." Brian replies, pulling a face. "It seems every single lady in North Carolina is out there trying to force Cupid. They're vultures out there."

"What about that last girl, Miss Martin?" Mama suggests, hopefully. "You danced a couple with her."

Brian knows his mother wants him to find someone. He doesn't know if Brynmor is that person but he's certainly not what his parents would describe as appropriate. 

"I don't think so, Mama."

Da lets out a dry chuckle at Mama's pout, but strangely doesn't say anything and instead moves his gaze back to the crowd. 

"Are you alright, Da?" Brian asks him. 

"It should be Murtagh at Jocasta's side." He says. He follows his gaze and sees that he isn't staring at the crowd in general but at his aunt and Duncan Innes standing together and speaking to friends. "Instead, here I am, rubbin' shoulder wi' the verra devils who'd see 'im dead."

Mama takes Da's arm, comforting him. "You can't be so hard on yourself." She tells him. "You asked him to wait. If Murtagh isn't here today, then that's his own choice."

"And you know that the further away he is from here, the safer he is." Brian adds. "If he stays out of sight for long enough, Tryon will have to give up the fight. He's already given mercy to the other Regulators. He'll back down from Murtagh sooner or later."

When he doesn't respond, Mama changes the subject, looking back out onto the dance floor. "He looks like he's having so much fun." She remarks to Brian.

Brian looks out to see Lord John looking like he is being held at gunpoint dancing with the same group of women who's also been hounding Brian. But when the music at last ends, Brian sees his body relax and he walks off the dance floor before any of the women can approach him. He goes to his three friends once he turns around and sees them. 

"Very impressive, John." Brian tells him with a grin. 

"I had no idea you were such a good dancer." Mama goes on. 

"Well, to tell you the truth, I'm not certain I am." He admits. He, with the others following, looks back to what appears to be his and Brian's fan club, stealing quick flirty glances at them and giggling. "I think I must've danced with every girl in the province."

Brian winces in pity knowing it's worse for him than it is for him. Unlike John, Brian isn't exclusively interested in men. "I apologise for not staying on the dance floor for longer, would've evened the load."

The conversation turns less jovial when Governor Tryon and his wife, Margaret, approach them.

Apparently, Mrs Tryon has a big mouth. They all approach Governor Tryon for a chat, and his wife lets it slip that they're moving to New York. Even more pressingly, since he is to leave, Tryon clearly wants to do a cleanup, their conversation leads to the revelation that Tryon has signed an order to prevent riotous assembly – it prohibits 10 men or more from gathering under specific circumstances. Brian tries not to snort at the misplaced pride on the man's face. If the Regulators are willing to go to war over the taxes Tryon has set, what in the hell makes him think they're going to listen to some little rule about how many men can be in one room?

Tryon remarks how he wishes he'd come up with the idea sooner then Knox might still be with them. Brian shares a look with his Da who tries to hide his guilt. Again, Brian understands the feeling for a different reason. If he hadn't been distracted and he'd been with his Da and Knox, he might've been able to stop this.

Just as he has this thought, he chokes on his wine when he sees the person he's just been thinking over walking through the crowd. A very familiar tall, thin and wiry build with black black and blues and high cheekbones. Brynmor.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ as his mother likes to say.

His visceral reaction doesn't go unnoticed and Mrs Tryon turns to him with wide concerned eyes. "Mister Fraser, are you well?"

Brian coughs slightly before flashing his most charming smile. "Of course, my apologies, Your Excellency."

He looks towards where he's seen Brynmor and that is when he catches the man's eye and, because he's him, Brian takes another sip of his drink and proceeds to choke on it again.

——

A/N: Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.