#this is going to be a miracle if these actually turn out decent | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inbabylontheywept · 5 months ago

Note

your life stories are always so interesting so i shall poke a stick into the cage and ask for more. do you have any fun stories of near death experiences? personally i choked on a lifesaver as a child and could not breathe

personally? not really. ive got a pretty decent hospital story though.

see, my grandpa was in charge of the easter pageant in my state. its a big mormon thing, a lot of other churches come because its just good easter worship. anyway, in part of the pageant, theres a pony for jesus and mary to ride around on. technically supposed to be a donkey, but ponys are just so much more photogenic. anyway this happened when my little sister was going through her little-girl-pony phase, so this was so major-league shit to her. so much so that my grandpa, who i still miss so much, brought this pony to our house so she could ride it.

my little brother? he also wanted to ride it. and i didnt really want to ride it, but they were both so small someone kind of needed to hold those two onboard, and i was the lighest person capable of doing so, (didnt want to overload the pony) so i went on the back too.

and it was a stellar time until the donkey went under a tree, then my little sister hit her head on a branch and fell left, and her fall took my little brother out because he was holding onto her, and both of them took me out, so we all fell off the pony, but me with 2 kids on my left arm.

god blessed me with a third elbow that day.

here are the things that followed after the Miracle of the Third Elbow

my autistic dad came outside to check on me. id broken my arm the year before, so i knew what it was, and i knew what it felt like, so i was able to pretty clearly go "yeah, dad, i broke my arm." and he was able to go "whew. yeah. thats like, harry potter broken." and i was able to say "yeah. yeah it hurts pretty bad." and he said "oh, yeah, definitely. that looks horrible." and then i basically said something like "hopital" and he was like "right" and then we left. my memory after that gets weird.

i can remember driving up main street, and seeing this guy dancing. like, full on dancing down the street. and i asked my dad about why that guy was dancing, and he said that man was a schizophrenic, and he was medicated, but the medication had just made it so that his voices told him to dance instead of hurt himself. now he danced all the time. i should clarify that my dad worked in the ER so he knew a lot of the local homeless on a life-story kind of level. my dads a good guy.

i can remember sitting in the waiting room with a magician that had sliced his right hand open pretty bad while cooking. he was trying his best to keep us entertained with his cards, but because he was doing all his tricks left handed, he'd mess them up sometimes and it was actually kind of more fun to watch than just him in expert mode. another good guy. very friendly, but visibly repulsed by my arm.

i can remember being in a bed, and a nurse coming up to me and saying that they could give me some painkillers, which i was super stoked about, but the IV from the painkillers basically required being stabbed with a needle as thick around as a pencil. she recomended saying the alphabet backwards when she put the needle in, and i said i didn't know how, and then she stuck in the needle in. over 4 seconds i was able to go from z to c, a feat i have never since been able to replicate.

after the painkillers, i watched a tv show called Jackie Chan Adventures, which was an animated cartoon with an animated Jackie Chan, voiced by the real Jackie Chan, solving mysteries. i actually assumed that whole thing was a hallucination until i was an adult, and i was describing it to my wife, and she was like "no, that actually happened." which was funny to happen to me, because when me and her started dating, she just kind of dropped how awesome it was that obama was the first muslim president, and i was like what, no hes an episcopalian, and it turns out that her dad, who sucks for many reasons, had told her that obama was a muslim, and she was sweet enough to believe that, and also to just be like oh, neat, our president is black and a muslim, we are truly moving forward as a counry." i love her so much.

no memories of it after that. not even sure when i got home. just a straight up weird time.

217 notes · View notes

sunderwight · 5 months ago

Text

Time travel fic where Vader gets the chance to go back in time, any time, and change his history.

So he goes back to when he was still a slave boy living on Tatooine with his mother.

He avoids the Jedi. Qui-Gon doesn't get the money for the parts they need, so the Queen doesn't reach Coruscant in a timely fashion, and the ousting of the Trade Federation is delayed. Which sucks ass for Naboo. But, on the other hand, the confrontation with Maul happens smack dab in the middle of the desert, so Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan actually overpower him together and neither of them dies.

After the Jedi leave, Anakin uses his future knowledge and expertise in cybernetic implants to remove his and his mother's slave chips. A tragic accident befalls Watto, and a fire in the junk shop destroys most of his records, so no one who inherits the remainder has any knowledge of slaves (or anything else) missing from the inventory.

Shmi knows that something has changed. But Ani's always been a miracle, strange and unknowable in many ways, and yet still her son regardless. She goes along with it, even though she's apprehensive about affording water, shelter, and food as they are.

She needn't have worried.

At every turn, Anakin miraculously seems to uncover things they need, or opportunities for them to explore. Shmi finds decent work in various establishments -- cleaning garages and hangers, and cantinas after closing, mostly. There always seems to be someone willing to hire her on for a while, even if they already seem to have staff. Ani works his magic with scrap parts and whatever better pieces they can afford, when they have enough to spare (which is surprisingly often), and sells contraptions to the Jawas, junk dealers, or other interested parties. If he makes and sells some weapons to some enterprising bounty hunters or mercenaries, Shmi doesn't discern it, and Anakin doesn't volunteer the information.

But mostly, he works in prosthetics.

There's a pretty big demand for such in the Outer Rim, especially Tatooine, where the idea of anyone hopping into a Bacta tank is even less realistic than the idea of public swimming pools. People are losing limbs all the time, and good prosthetics are hard to come by.

Anakin makes good prosthetics. Even with limited parts and visible frustration, by the time he's thirteen, most of the planet knows where you go if you need an "extra hand", so to speak.

It's not long before the Hutts take an interest in monopolizing the resource, and seeing what else this talented young mechanic can build. Even if most Hutts rarely need prosthetics themselves, they like to be in charge of a hot commodity, after all. And it's hardly unheard of for them to lose an arm or two either.

Shmi worries. Anakin doesn't. Somehow, all of the local crime lords start to be met with unfortunate accidents. Their relatives and allies investigate, of course, and no one really believes in coincidences in the Outer Rim. But nothing turns up either. Falling cargo, suicides, misfiring weapons, heart attacks, choking on food, slipping and falling into sarlacc pits, it's all stuff that does happen. It just usually doesn't happen so often, to such a specific group of people, within such a short amount of time.

When Anakin is fifteen, Sidious sends people to fetch him. They approach him with sweet offers and seemingly-generous gifts, at first, as if it's not the most suspicious way they could go about it. His mother too, but it's such a stupid effort that Shmi finds them suspect even without prompting, and senses something off about them. Anakin's mother might not be nearly as Force sensitive as he is, but she is, and she doesn't like Palpatine's people even if she doesn't know who they are.

The next ones just try and abduct him. It's at least less insulting in its directness. They find themselves falling afoul of the many dangers of Tatooine instead. Such a risky place, people disappear out here all the time. Mind the womp rats and the krayt dragons.

Finally, Sidious goes himself.

His ship suffers a terrible malfunction upon its descent towards a planetside dock. A true tragedy. The Chancellor will be missed.

History remembers Anakin Skywalker as a footnote in the development of several innovative prosthetic enhancements, and a semi-obscure abolitionist who also advocated for the rights of clones.

#star wars

256 notes · View notes

driftward · 5 months ago

Text

Let's talk about Zoraal Ja.

So early on in Dawntrail, shortly after Krile's first Echo off of Zoraal Ja, I was like, we are going to find out there is something fucked up happening to this guy. Maybe there's actually an Ascian in there purposefully fucking things up, or whoever the big bad of the expansion turns out to be rewired his head somehow, or, you know, some flavour of brain fuckery.

But as we go through the story and ultimately see him at his defeat, no, nothing so extreme as all that. He seems to be just Like That, and I thought it odd. By all accounts, it seemed he must have been raised okay. Gulool Ja Ja seems to have been an alright father figure, good enough to have raised two other kids into decent adults. They have their own sets of issues, but nobody's perfect, and they both do a good job course correcting for their shortcomings.

What the hell happened with Zoraal Ja? Why did he turn out the way he did?

Gulool Ja Ja is a blessed sibling, which we are not just told are exceedingly rare - we are shown so, explicitly, and we learn what the cost of a blessed sibling is to the Mamool Ja. A cost that their people bore in order to try to better their lot and win a war against the Xbr'aal. Gulool Ja Ja did not so much win their war as much as he simply ended it, bringing peace to both peoples.

That peace is simply, however, not that old. When we visit Iq Br'aax, we slowly learn the story of how that peace came to be, but throughout it, I could not help but notice that we were only getting one side of the story. The celebrated meal of Xibruq Pibil was meant to be a symbol of bringing peoples who were historically enemies together, but where were the Mamool Ja to share it with? And why did none of the Mamool Ja present seem to know how to create the recipe?

There is a peace, but here we see that it is a flawed peace. In the side quests, you learn that trade happens between the Mamool Ja and the Xbr'aal, but only in secret. The younger generation knows peace, but the older generation is still cagey about the not all that distant history with their neighbors in the forest.

And so the Mamool Ja still continue their practice of enduring the terrible loss of so many stillbirths in an attempt to create more blessed siblings. Their culture, especially the remnant that chooses to remain in the forest, is still trying to make its place in the larger world and improve their lot. They are still living in a land that makes for harsh conditions for living.

And in this we see a few things. One, Gulool Ja Ja is not perfect. He did a good job, but not a great one. The work of peace is going to need to be an ongoing project. And two, I believe it sets the foundation for why Zoraal Ja is the way he is.

He was not raised in Mamook, but he is still Mamool Ja. And like Gulool Ja Ja, he is a miracle. The trueblood son of a blessed sibling, who were long believed to be sterile. We don't know anything about his mother, and I suspect she had little influence on his life. But judging from the way the fight against him goes, and the visions we see of the people in his life, he may not have had a mother, singular, but I think he definitely had nursemaids.

And they certainly remembered what life was like in Mamook. And that history is not so old. And so early on, he is told he is special. He is told he is destined for great things. And probably, at least a little bit, there are whispers of how he might surpass his father one day.

The seed of a terrible imposter syndrome is planted.

And none of what happens requires Gulool Ja Ja to be a bad parent. In fact, I think what we get is the result of him trying to be a good parent. It seems likely he probably met his kids where they were at, encouraged their interests, and let them be who they wanted to be. Wuk Lamat probably sparred with him, and certainly got his sociable, outgoing tendencies. Koana, quiet Koana, I like to imagine he expressed an interest in sciences, and knowledge, and Gulool Ja Ja probably made sure he had the best tutors, and when the time came, made sure he had a good send off to Old Sharlayan.

And quiet, taciturn Zoraal Ja who rarely speaks. I can imagine Gulool Ja Ja let his son keep his peace. He probably assumed his son wanted his space, and left him to it. And Zoraal Ja, the miracle, watched his father. His father's living accomplishment was peace in Tural. Zoraal Ja will bring peace to the entire star. Gulool Ja Ja loves a good fight, enough that he challenges people to come to the palace and face him. Zoraal Ja will be a better fighter than his father. Gulool Ja Ja was a leader. Zoraal Ja is the leader of the Landsguard, and will succeed his father as Dawnservant.

It's interesting, I think, to compare and contrast Zoraal Ja with Bakool Ja Ja, who are more alike than they are different. Both are miracle children, both are impossible children. The Mamool Ja thought that a child born of Hoobigo and Boonewa was impossible - until the birth of the first blessed sibling. And they also believed a blessed sibling, in turn, was sterile - until the birth of Zoraal Ja, the miracle.

And both of them, I think, are carrying the weight of their people with them. Bakool Ja Ja explicitly, but I don't think Zoraal Ja got to escape it just because he was raised in Tuliyollal instead of Mamook. Even if the aforementioned nursemaids did not explicitly put the idea in his head that he might be the future of the Mamool Ja, he is not an idiot. They definitely told him he was a miracle, destined for great things.

And absent guidance from his father, who probably just wanted him to be his own person, he decided for himself what those great things would be.

Zoraal Ja is intent on completing them alone - to his ultimate detriment, in the trial in Mamook.

And while they are so very similar, the difference between Bakool Ja Ja and Zoraal Ja is that Bakool Ja Ja not only never wanted this, but he was eventually offered a path out. A way to be free of the yoke of the responsibilities his culture put upon him before he was ever even born. But Zoraal Ja never got that chance, because his burdens were not being forced upon him. He took them upon himself.

And he carried them until his death.

In the end, Gulool Ja Ja was probably a decent father, but not the right kind of father for Zoraal Ja. Zoraal Ja's ambition was born of a terrible inferiority complex that he nursed until it festered and swallowed him whole. He could have found his own freedom, but he could not see it past the shadow of his own father, who he was obsessed with eclipsing.

And so we're left with this. Zoraal Ja died in a completely avoidable tragedy of his own making.

#final fantasy xiv #dawntrail #zoraal ja #biot analysis

291 notes · View notes

joshfutturman · 11 months ago

Text

"you have me, you always have"

oneshot (request) - you and clapton have been in a 'will they won't they' type relationship for years, you're best friends - but is that all you want? (2.3k words) pairing - clapton davis (detention) + reader (gender neutral) tags: making out / kissing, moans (oops :3), feelings realisation, will they won't they, suggestive scenes, no use of y/n, vague alcohol mention, cursing

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

clapton. davis. what could you say about clapton davis? you had been best friends for as long as you could remember. it was always just easy with him. you never had to try too hard or try to be funny - he just got you, and you got him.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

notes: this was SO much fun!!! thank you so so much for the request @rhilove1234 ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵◌₎♡ - you're officially the first request of this account! i hope this was alright for you ٩( ´◡` )

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

it was actually kind of poetically perfect that you two had applied to the same college together and had been accepted, a miracle too. clapton had the lowest gpa you'd ever heard of, but with his interest in music and the passion he clearly had for the history behind it - the college took kindly to that. you wondered if he offered to create a mix-tape for the assessors. there must have been some sort of bribe involved.

there was a time when he'd told you of his fear of the future, how he'd rather stay in the present. you remember this moment vividly, the two of you sat on your front lawn, stars sprawling above you as the world grew quiet. clapton nervously fidgeted with a blade of grass and you watched on. "the present is good, what's so wrong with wanting to stay here?" he spoke quietly, as though he knew that he didn't really believe what he was saying.

"well, yeah, the present is pretty cool," you smiled, nudging his shoulder with yours - this earned a smile from him, "but. . . don't you wanna see what's out there? who's out there?"

his eyes perked up from the blade of grass and settled on you for a few moments before darting across the street. his smile turned softer, shyer. clapton had all he wanted, right here.

the journey towards the college would take a couple of hours and clapton offered to give you a ride. your hands shook as you packed your belongings into his trunk. he watched from the side, eyebrows furrowing as he bit the inside of his cheek. once you were both settled into the small red car, clapton set off. but not before he reached his hand over, giving yours a reassuring squeeze.

he didn't let go for the entire journey.

the dorm room was pretty much what you were expecting, cramped, but decent. your roommate, damon, offered a smile to both of you as clapton helped you inside with your luggage. with a warm, tight hug and a small cheeky kiss on the cheek that you laughed off and so did he, clapton left. not before he sheepishly eyed your roommate, though. they exchanged a look, and it made your eyebrow raise as you gingerly rubbed the skin where his lips had been.

as soon as that door closed, damon piped up. "your boyfriend?"

a laugh erupted from you. clapton? your boyfriend? you hadn't even kissed, how could you possibly be dating? was it the kiss on the cheek? that doesn't count. you were best friends. there were no feelings there. clapton davis? dating? never. that damn skateboard had his heart. yeah. it wasn't like you had feelings for him that were bubbling below the surface, threatening to escape after every interaction. it's not like you wanted to ask him if this was something more. and it definitely wasn't like you had thought about pushing him against the lockers every day and kissing him like time was running out, or that you imagined him taking his hand in yours, for real - nah.

best friends. that's all it was.

but that comment remained firmly in your mind. it had been a few weeks and you couldn't shake it. was this really something more? could it be, even?

clapton was the kind of guy who could win anyone around, practically everyone he had ever met had fallen in love with him in some capacity. sure, he could be an ass when it came to his music opinions and that adorable sting fixation could be grating - but not to you. it was exactly that, adorable. he was like this with everyone, right?

even in class, you found it hard to focus. he'd insist on sitting behind you or beside you so he could pester you. in this particular lecture, he was behind. clapton leans back, swinging in his chair as he eyes the back of your head, caught in a daydream.

he sighs, deeply. clapton often looked at you like this when you weren't looking. he would desperately try to think of something to say to make you laugh, to catch your attention, to have your eyes fall on him even just for a little while. he flips open his little black notebook and peers at the bullet-pointed contents. 'say something funny, say something witty, wear their favourite colour, tell them you like them.' he hastily shut the book.

leaning over, his fingers brush your hair behind your ear. you immediately felt goosebumps spread across your neck and a tingle ran down your spine like lightning. a blush burned deep in your cheeks. "do. . . you got a pen i could borrow?" clapton whispered, his breath hot on your skin.

with a hard swallow, you passed a pen backwards and offered him a quick smile before looking straight ahead again, gritting your teeth to firmly push those thoughts from your head.

best. friends. that's all it was.

these thoughts led to you avoiding him, avoiding one on one time. it was better to stay in a group when you were with him, or was it? damon wasn't the last person to ask if you guys were dating. and you saw clapton's face when he was asked, the laugh he gave people - clearly he thought it was a joke too.

it was fine, it was going to be fine. one of your classmates had invited you to a house party that night, this would surely take your mind off things. you'd get some space, more space from clapton and maybe you'd find someone new. maybe he'd find someone new.

your stomach churned at the thought.

walking inside, you relished the sound of conversation from all sides. there wasn't any space to listen to your thoughts in here and that's exactly the kind of escape you wanted. shoulders rising and falling with a sigh of relief, you find the kitchen. a drink in hand and you definitely feel more relaxed. yeah, things were going to work out. things were-

clapton.

your eyes fixate on him from across the room. he's on the sofa, surrounded by people. they're chatting to him like he's the most interesting guy in the world. you notice when he laughs, they do too. they're hanging on his every word and they love it. they're too far away for you to make out their conversation, but you can tell that clapton is enjoying telling the story. he always did like attention - and not in a conceited way, he just naturally attracted people.

and then, his eyes met yours.

eyes widening, you look away and down the rest of your drink. a few seconds later, you started to leave the kitchen area to retreat towards the cramped hallway. clapton called out to you, telling you to wait, to 'come join him'. you didn't listen, but if you'd stayed a few seconds longer, you might have heard that the story he had enjoyed telling so much was about you and him.

in the hallway, you gathered yourself and ran your fingers through your hair. it wasn't long before you heard clapton approaching too, though, and you let out a soft grunt of frustration. "trouble in paradise?" someone muttered and you shot them an icy glare. the door to the backyard ahead, you left and slammed it behind you.

the cold atmosphere hit you and your cheeks were hotter than you realised. it felt as though you could actually breathe in the night air. but when you heard the door handle turn and clapton exit, you felt just as tense again.

"what the hell is going on with you?" he speaks in a firm but confused tone, there was a hint of hurt in there. the brunette approached you from behind and stopped just shy of you. "you've been acting weird for weeks, ignoring me, rejecting every single offer to hang out - did i do something wrong?"

that last sentence hurts you, it hurt to think of him wondering if he'd upset you. "no." is all you manage to say.

night envelops you both, the quiet thumping of the music from inside fills the silence in between your words.

"then, what?" he asks and you can hear him almost stomp his feet.

"people keep asking me if we're. . . a thing and i thought. . . well i thought it would be better if we kept some distance, that's all." you said with a shrug, folding your arms firmly.

silence falls around you both for a few moments. you wondered if he could hear how loudly your heart was beating in your chest, as though it were threatening to escape.

and then you could feel his presence behind you, his head near your shoulder, lips close to your ear. ". . . is that what you want?" clapton asked, his breath shaking slightly.

the closeness was almost too much to handle. your stomach in knots, it trips over itself, desperately trying to untangle the anxious mess inside. of course distance wasn't what you wanted.

he mutters your name softly into your ear, placing a hand on your hip and you snap, turning quickly with clenched fists. you want to yell, you want to ask him what you both are, you want to tell him to piss off - you want him.

fuck, you want him.

clapton raises his hands slightly to give you space and looks rather defeated, those hazel puppy dog eyes veering to the left to avert your heated gaze. but he then stands still, slowly his eyes return to yours and he can see conflict behind your eyes. gaining a little more of his confidence back, he puffs out his chest and takes a step closer. you noticed how his hands still shook though, despite that secure stance.

you held his gaze as he approached, your own hands shaking in turn. he almost commanded your attention with those eyes. and you realise in that moment that clapton sees you. he really sees you. he always has. you crave him, like it's been years since you both touched, his soft skin against yours.

"is that. . . what you want?" he repeats, bringing you out of your thoughts and he's firmer this time. you are inches from one another.

his hand snakes towards your neck along your supple skin, cupping against your jaw, thumb resting on your cheek. you can't help but let out a small gasp in response as your hand comes up to rest on his wrist. your cheek nuzzles into his touch, warm, safe.

"i want you." you finally admit, words trembling from your mouth, a short laugh following suit as if it was so silly to hear it out loud.

clapton's eyes sparkle and stare back into yours. you notice how his whole face lights up, unable to hide the smile pulling on his lips. "you have me, you always have." he admits with a soft chuckle like it was so obvious.

and then he kisses you, he kisses you like he's hungry, like he's starving. your lips collide, your eyes close and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. you come undone. clapton wraps an arm around you to pull your body closer to his and you trail a hand up the back of his neck to grip that messy, adorable hair. his tongue slips into your mouth and you welcome it, feeling warmth rise in your belly.

you never wanted to let go, you never wanted to stop. his hand firmly on your neck and a strong hand on your back, he held you tightly. though you tried to suppress it, a little sigh of pleasure escapes and you can feel him smirk proudly through the kiss. it causes him to hold you tighter in response and your other hand grips his shirt for stability.

the cold air nips at your skin but it's a welcome sensation against the fervency of the kiss. his hand slides around your neck to the back of your head, his fingers lacing into the back of your hair causing ripples of tingles across your shoulders. you whisper his name into his mouth and it comes out in a pleading tone - but you're not sure what you're pleading for.

he gives you what you want, despite you yourself not knowing what that was. a gentle tug on your hair and his firm hand trailing down your side to tug at the bottom of your shirt cheekily. a giggle erupts from your lips as you pull away just enough to let it out, eyeing him with a smirk.

before you know it, your hand is in his and your eyes are drawn to watch your hands tangle together. it amazes you how perfectly they fit, his digits sneaking into yours with a thumb caressing your skin. it felt right. this was exactly what you wanted. it felt different from the other times, more tender, more meaningful. he gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you meet his gaze once more.

"so," he speaks up, breathless, "is our anniversary now or is it when i thought we were actually dating all those years ago?"

you can't help but laugh, breathless too. "oh my god," you roll your eyes, "shut up."

#my writing #clapton davis #clapton davis detention #clapton davis x reader #clapton davis x you #detention fanfiction #josh hutcherson #writing request #jhutch #j hutch #detention 2011 #clapton davis x y/n #clapton davis gif #clapton davis gifs #clapton davis fanfiction #clapton davis fanfic

416 notes · View notes

gainahan · 7 months ago

Text

naruto driving headcanons

Naruto - definitely not licensed. debatable whether he actually knows which one is the brake pedal. as long as Sakura is alive he will not be allowed behind the wheel of a car. unknowable/10

Sasuke - also not technically licensed, but all things considered a pretty decent driver. probably started driving well before he was legally old enough to. 7.5/10

Sakura - road rage extraordinaire. swears up and down she goes the speed limit but in truth goes at minimum 10 over. “speed limit is a suggestion” more like speed limit is a challenge. at the very least she gets them where they need to go. 5.5/10

Sai - never learned to drive until he met team 7. between Naruto and Sakura’s influences, he won��t be getting licensed for at least the next 6 years. good luck/10

Shikamaru - truly cannot be arsed. if asked to drive he claims to not have a license, but he definitely does. another unknowable/10 but I like to think in a pinch he’d be pretty good at it.

Choji - reliable driver but has a tendency to be late. gets stressed out when he has more than a few passengers. 6/10

Ino - wants to be a passenger princess soo badly. unfortunately for her, she’s the best on her team. being good at driving is her curse. woefully, 10/10

Kiba - team 8’s designated driver, believe it or not. he is…not good at it, per se, but better than the rest of them. having two sets of eyes on the road tends to help. 6.5/10

Hinata - gets so stressed out she forgets how to brake. she’ll be white knuckling the wheel going 50 in a residential while her passengers pray for their lives in the backseat. -2/10 her dad’s insurance is through the roof

Shino - morally opposed to driving. he hasn’t confirmed why but the running theory is that a swarm of his bugs faceplanted into the windshield once and traumatized him. unknowable/10

Neji - doesn’t believe in right-of-way. refuses to use his mirrors. whole heartedly believes he is god’s gift to the interstate. by some miracle has never gotten into a crash, but if any of his passengers are sensible people he is banned from the wheel. 0/10

Tenten - makes Sakura’s road rage look like divinely inspired patience. honestly she’s not even mad she just enjoys it. has to be actively talked down from brake checking people. banned from the wheel 0/10

Lee - while technically a perfect driver (obeys every speed limit, never makes an illegal turn, maneuvers like butter), having him in the front seat is such an intolerable experience he’s also banned from the wheel. those unfortunate enough to have witnessed it don’t speak of their experience, but rumors involve something along the lines of a custom-made Gai inspirational quotes driving playlist. 0/10

Temari - grew up driving her brothers around. Absolutely hates it. when she’s in a car she’s got her feet up on the dashboard and always has the aux. if she were to drive again, 9.5/10

Gaara - an…extremely calm, level headed driver? side effect of RBF is that everyone is always waiting for him to snap and run someone over. he never has. probably listens to calming classical music or something while in traffic jams. 10000/10

Kankuro - I find it funny to believe he’s the actual passenger princess. unknowable/10

292 notes · View notes

hlficlibrary · 1 month ago

Text

HL FIC LIBRARY ☕ Coffee Shop Fics

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

☕ I’d Still Dance With You by kikikryslee / @flamboyantommo {M, 57k}

“Liam, if you met someone that you really liked, would age matter?” Louis asked. “I suppose so; to a point, anyway.” “Like, how young would you go?” Liam thought it over. “Uh… I don’t know. Like, 24?” Louis groaned and dropped his head in his hands. “Why? How old is this guy you like?” “Twenty-one,” Louis muttered. “Hang on. He’s 21, and you’re… what? Twenty-eight?” “Yeah.” “Wow. Um… well, OK. That’s a, uh, that’s a gap.”

Or, the 21/28 age difference fic where Harry is younger than Louis thought he was, and even though Louis’ head is telling him not to pursue anything, his heart doesn’t seem to agree.

☕ I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours {T, 34k}

Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. When Liam's campaign for serving treats turns into watching a few baking accounts on whichever popular app he's on, there's one that really gets on Louis' nerves: "I Like Your Styles." With his chipper demeanor and over the top descriptions of the food he makes, Louis is sure that the (unfortunately cute) baker is full of it. Nothing that adorable could possibly be worth the hype.

It doesn't actually take much for him to eat his words...and some quality baked goods, while he's at it.

☕ love drunk, waiting on a miracle by @hellolovers13 {E, 30k}

Christmas inspired Coffeshop AU

Harry has a bit of a crush on a customer. Thankfully, the feeling is mutual.

These are their first 24 days together.

☕ And That’s The Tea by @2tiedships2 {M, 27k}

I’d like an Earl Grey with milk and sugar, please.

Louis had the phrase memorized, even though it had disappeared off its place on his upper arm over thirteen years ago now.

At fourteen he didn’t understand. Soulmarks don’t just disappear. Not unless…

Unless one of them dies.

Or, the one where Louis loses his soulmate before even getting the chance to meet them, and he is in no way prepared for the kind of distraction his new friend Harry proves to be.

☕ Friday I'm in Love by @perfectdagger {M, 25k}

It has a pattern, Harry has noticed.It’s not that he has been observing the guy who regularly comes to the coffee shop for the past few weeks; but he totally has.It’s also not Harry’s fault that he’s infatuated with the guy who apparently follows a very repetitive schedule.

Or the one where Harry works at the coffee shop and Louis goes there almost every day and Harry is head over heels for him, making his love life look like a The Cure song.

Inspired by Friday I’m in Love by The Cure (obviously).

☕ From The Heart (series) by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom {E, 24k}

Every Tuesday, Louis spends his day off holed up in his favorite coffee-come-bookshop, writing his little stories as part of the WordPlay challenge while daydreaming about the resident barista, Harry. Each week a new word prompt is revealed and Louis adds to his series of short stories about Henry, the owner of a B&B in the Cotswolds who has curly hair and dimples, Lewis, his long term guest who just happens to be a writer, and Tigger, Henry’s cat.

As Louis and Harry’s friendship develops, could his fantasy world spill out into real life? And how does that reader who leaves the lovely comments with the teacup emoji seem to be able to read Louis’ mind?

☕ ever since new york by @sunflower-live / sunflower_live {NR, 22k}

Louis works at a coffee shop in NYC and he pines endlessly after the boy who lives above it.

☕ blend into my favourite colour by rainbowninja167 / @rainbowtitania {T, 19k}

Harry often wonders if they’ll ever meet in real life. And if Harry will recognize Tommo the instant they see each other, like somehow their souls will just know. Or maybe Harry’s soul is shouting “Louis!” too loudly for any other signals to go through.

Harry is a barista with a secret Werewolf High fan blog, a desperate crush on a customer named Louis, and a best friend on Tumblr who always makes him laugh. Louis can't figure out why the barista at his favorite coffee shop keeps creepily staring at him, and to make matters worse, he may be slightly in love with a friend he met online.

A love square involving two boys, one TV fandom, and one food fight.

☕ The Importance of being Earnest by @louloubabys1992 / louloubaby92 {NR, 16k}

Harry cannot help but pay extra attention to Louis' order, even if it is just a warm cup of tea with a dash of milk and no sugar. He also makes sure that the Danish Louis asks for is warm and fresh from the oven and not the one in the display, even if it means delaying Louis a bit when he fetches said Danish from the kitchen. It's all worth it when Louis smiles his crinkly smile at him before he rushes off to work.

Man, he's hot, he cannot help but think.

Or Harry is a barista who's been harboring a crush on Louis for months. Little does he know that Louis actually likes him back.

☕ Before We Ever Wrote a Song by @casuallyhl {E, 13k}

Harry just can't be around Louis when he's flirting outrageously with Chad Michael Murray. So what if he's the star of one of the country's most popular shows? Harry's seen an episode or two and it's not that great. Sure, the drama is exciting and all the actors are attractive and it’s shot in his hometown, but still. Not that great. Certainly not great enough for Louis to fall over himself every time Chad enters the coffee shop.

Harry doesn’t want to watch the over-the-top spectacle, which is why he usually retreats.

And besides, it hurts to see the boy he’s in love with flirting with someone else.

Or, Harry and Louis work in a coffeehouse on a film studios lot, and Harry wishes Louis would pay half as much attention to him as he does the famous actors.

☕ A Love Stronger Than Espresso by tempolarriefics / @tempolarriefix {G, 12k}

Louis is entirely dependent on caramel mocha in the mornings, but soon he finds that there's one thing at the coffee shop he needs more than coffee - a cute barista named Harry.

aka: The one where Harry is a cute barista guy and Louis plays hard to get by using a different name to order coffee each day

☕ John Doe by FitzAndLarry {G, 12k}

John Doe I don't even know you, but I know fo' sho' That you are beautiful, so baby let me know Your name Damn what's his name?

xxx

There's a boy taking the stand at the open mic night where Harry works as a barista, and he's going to find out the boy's name if it's the last thing he does.

An ode to Never Shout Never, and a story about finding a new home.

☕ Coming Home Through the Dark to You by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup {G, 6k}

Harry Styles works at the Fox in the Snow, the most hipster coffee joint around. He's got too many roommates and a best friend he met his first day of university who he might very well be head-over-heels for.

☕ ‘Sup by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics {G, 6k}

Gemma really wants her little brother to sign up for a dating app and get back in the game after a messy divorce. Harry thinks he’s way too old to swipe. They compromise to devastatingly embarrassing results.

Meanwhile, all Louis wants is to finish the play he’s been commissioned to write, but one of the regulars at his local coffee shop keeps distracting him.

ft. older larry, pushy gemma, harry being a disaster gay and silver fox louis.

☕ Time Of The Season by alienharry {NR, 6k}

When writer's block stands in the way of Harry completing his second novel, he turns to the sweet-smelling omega behind the counter of his new favorite coffee shop for inspiration.

☕ I Kinda Need A Hero (Is It You) by @fallinglikethis {NR, 5k}

Louis is a barista who’s had his heart broken. Harry is the boy who wants to put the pieces back together.

☕ That's Not My Name by @lululawrence {NR, 3k}

He froze for a second, because he hadn’t expected to be hit with such an intense gaze. Green eyes beneath a beanie and loads of curly hair made Louis miss a beat before coming back to himself.

“Uh, hi. Sorry. Can I take your order?”

The boy (man?) gave a shy smile and said, “Just a caramel macchiato, please. Grande.” Louis nodded as he scribbled onto the cup and punched it into the register.

As the boy held his phone to the machine to pay, Louis asked, “Name please?”

“Oh, uh, Marcus.”

Louis scribbled Marcus on the cup and handed it off, but not before giving the boy a smile and nodding over to where he’d be able to pick up his drink. Louis watched him a bit longer than he probably should have, then forced himself to move on.

Or the one where the cute boy coming into the coffee shop gives Louis a different name every time...for over a month.

☕ A Cuppa Courage by @juliusschmidt {G, 3k}

Liam kicks Harry's shin, picking up another cup to fill. “He seems like he’d be a good catch, if you liked guys, I mean.”

I do like guys, Harry does not say, even though he’d like to shout it at the top of his lungs. I DO LIKE GUYS.

[a fluffy lil' fall coffee shop coming out au.]

☕ cursing the cosmos by 5sexualhomos / @hogwartzlou {NR, 3k}

In a world where people have timers counting down to when they meet their soulmate, finding love is easy. Harry meets Louis in a coffee shop one day. They slowly fall in love, the only thing holding them back is that they aren't soulmates.

☕ baby baby, you're a caramel macchiato by @missandrogyny {T, 3k}

So, yeah, Harry doesn't think it's that far of a stretch to call himself a good barista. There are some particularly bad ones, and some particularly good ones, and, with his work ethic, his skill, and his charm, he'd probably be lumped in with the latter group.

☕ tell me what you need by @disgruntledkittenface {G, 2k}

“And a fresh cherry?” he asks, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. He waits as Louis stares him down, his brow furrowing.“No? What the fuck,” Louis rasps, looking bewildered.

coffeeshop AU based on this iconic prompt:

harry: can i please get a semi-iced half caramel half vanilla decaf latte with no foam using fresh almond milk with a small swirl of whipped cream covered in a pinch of cinnamon and a fresh cherry? louis: ...no? what the fuck

141 notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 6 days ago

Text

Christmas Magic

hot cocoa bar celebration🧤❄️🎄

requested here! & inspired by Finding Santa (2017)

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!(event planner)!reader

Summary: Your Christmas charity dinner is threatened when Santa quits at the last minute. Tim Bradford is the only person you know who is free days before Christmas, but it will take some magic to make him agree to put on the suit.

Warnings/Word Count: fluff, brief angst, quick mention of harassment, mistletoe and magic. 3.5k+ words.

I rented the center, tables with chairs are being delivered at noon, and catering arrives at 4. Got that. Santa, gifts, check, check.

You turn away from your computer to make a note about contacting the pediatrics hospital administrator. With your phone tucked between your cheek and shoulder, you’d nearly forgotten that you were supposed to be listening to James, the older gentleman playing Santa at the fundraising event you’ve been planning since September.

“I’m so sorry to cancel on you last minute,” James says.

Barely managing to catch your phone as you jerk in shock, you repeat his words in your mind. “Cancel? James, I’m sorry, did I hear that correctly?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ve been fighting this rotator cuff for years and it finally won out on me. I know it’s last minute, but I can’t safely perform the Santa duties.”

“Okay, okay,” you mumble, pressing your forehead into your hand. “I understand, and I hope you feel better. I’m just not sure where I’m supposed to find another Santa days before the event, this close to Christmas.”

“If I hear of anybody who’s available, I’ll send ‘em your way.”

“Thanks.”

You end the call and stare at your computer screen. There is absolutely no way you can find someone – someone decent, at least – to play Santa Clause in three days. The event is on December 23rd, Christmas Eve-Eve, and it was hard enough to book James so close to Christmas Day.

“Oh, I’m gonna need a Christmas miracle,” you whisper as you reach for your mug.

A bell jingles outside, and you close your eyes. If only an angel capable of playing Santa were getting its wings.

“Are you okay?” your assistant, Holly, asks from the doorway.

“Not even a little bit,” you answer with a stressed smile. “We need a new Santa.”

“In less than a week?” she exclaims, setting a stack of papers on your desk. “How are you going to do that?”

“I have no idea. I could do open auditions, but then we’re just going to get all of the crazy people desperate for a Christmas gig in here, and I can’t sort through applications or anything with everything else going on,” you ramble before taking a breath. “Any chance you have a cousin, brother, dad, or a neighbor without a criminal record who could help me out?”

“My folks are traveling for the holidays and all of my neighbors are girls. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. We just… we have to think of something. Preferably by the end of today.”

“If anyone can pull together some Christmas magic it’s you,” Holly assures. “I’ll go make some calls and let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”

“Thanks, Hols.”

As she leaves, you open your phone and scroll through your contacts. Each name makes you a little more discouraged. Most of them are busy with families, out of town, completely unqualified, or you haven’t spoken to them in so long that you can’t justify asking for something like this, even if it is for the kids.

“It’s all I want for Christmas,” you whisper as you near the end of your list.

One name jumps out at you, but you hesitate to contact him. He might have to work or be coming off of a hectic holiday shift on the 23rd. But you’re running out of options, so you text Tim Bradford to ask if he’s free. The phone rings a moment later, and you answer immediately.

“No, don’t- Chen!” Tim scolds.

“Uh, hello?” you greet.

“Hi!” a woman replies. “My name is Lucy Chen, I’m Tim’s rookie. You asked if he was free on the 23rd and I’m calling to say that he absolutely is.”

“Good, good,” you reply, chewing your bottom lip. “I actually have a really big – huge – favor to ask him, so maybe I’ll call him back later.”

“What is it?” Tim asks.

“Uhm,” you hum, trying to find the right words. “I need someone to play Santa at the charity event for the Children’s Hospital Los Angeles and UCLA’s pediatric department.”

“I… can’t,” Tim says after a moment.

“He means he won’t,” Lucy adds.

Your shoulders drop as you murmur, “Okay. Bye.”

After you hang up, you realize that Tim Bradford is your only chance. If he really won't do it, you either have to put a woman in the Santa suit and hope for the best or disappoint every child and parent in attendance by announcing at the last minute that Santa can’t make it. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, but at least the diner down the street has good hot chocolate that will help you get your mind off it for a few minutes. You wave at Holly on your way out, then try to think of exciting, merry, and bright things rather than the coming disappointment as you walk to your favorite diner. As you enter, you notice three men sitting in the booth closest to the door, but they’re the kind of men you know you wouldn’t invite to be in the same room with wealthy women or children, let alone both at the same time.

“Robbery in progress at Vicksen’s Diner,” dispatch alerts. “Callers report three armed men, and one is blocking the main entrance.”

“7-Adam-19 responding, code 3,” Tim radios before hitting the lights and sirens.

“Vixen’s Diner?” Lucy repeats. “They must really like Christmas.”

“V-i-c-k-s-e-n,” Tim corrects. “It’s the last name, the family has owned the place for decades. The call you intercepted earlier?”

“What about her?”

“She’s probably there. It’s her favorite place and they have Christmas specials right now.”

“How do you know that?”

“Focus, Chen,” Tim snaps as he turns the sirens off. “We’re approaching the rear exit without a sound, understood? Our priority is to get these people safe, then and only then do we go after the robbers.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy agrees.

“I don’t have any more cash,” the owner explains again. “It’s the twenty-first century, genius, most of our business is card or tap-to-pay.”

“And it’s Christmas,” you add from your booth. “Just go.”

“Not until I get something!” the man screams.

“How about a one-way trip to jail?” someone adds. “We already called the police.”

“Then pay up or they’ll have a body,” one of the other robbers says, turning their gun toward the customer.

Someone clicks their tongue, and you look over to see Tim Bradford and who you assume to be Lucy Chen standing behind the counter.

“LAPD,” Tim says. “Weapons down, hands up, or your Christmas is going to be even worse.”

The man closest to the counter tightens his grip on his gun, then curses and drops it as he raises his hands.

“I recommend you follow his lead,” Lucy tells the man beside you.

“Open the door,” Tim dares the final man. “My partner out there would love to lay you out.”

All three men surrender, and you watch Tim as he cuffs and zip-ties them while his rookie calls for backup.

“You said you had a partner out there!” the men complain.

“I lied,” Tim says as he stands. “You should know what it’s like.”

Three more patrol cars park outside, and officers take the would-be thieves out of the diner as Lucy checks on the owner and the other patrons. When Tim walks to your table, you lean back and look at him.

“I really need your help,” you explain. “It’s one night and you’d get paid.”

“It’s not about the money,” Tim replies. “Are you okay?”

“Then what is it about?” you press. “We both know you’re great with your nephews even if you hate to admit it. It’s only a few hours of asking kids what they want for Christmas, a few pictures, and then- then I’ll buy you dinner, whatever you want.”

“Why are you asking so close to the event?”

“Because I already had a Santa, but he tore his rotator cuff and backed out on me at the last minute. You know I wouldn’t ask something like this unless I really needed it.”

Tim nods, though he’s wondering why he is the one you’ve chosen to show your persistence and desperation to. Surely, you know other men capable of wearing an uncomfortable polyester suit and saying ho, ho, ho.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Tim points out. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. One of them pushed me out of the way, but-“

Tim moves closer to you and bends to look into your eyes. His gaze moves over your face before catching on the slightly red area against the side of your neck.

“You sure?” he whispers.

You nod and smile before you push past him to exit the booth. “I have to get back to work and find a Santa or break hundreds of hearts. Be safe, Tim.”

Tim watches you walk toward the door, and Lucy’s eyes widen as she gestures wildly toward you.

“I’ll do it,” Tim calls. He tells himself it’s because you’re so persistent and seem stressed, but deep down, he knows there is more to it than that.

“You don’t have to,” you say as you face him. “Don’t do something that’s going to make you miserable just because I need help.”

“I’ll do it,” he repeats. “Text me the details?”

“How ‘bout I just pick you up on the 23rd? Around noon?” you reply.

“Sure.”

“Thank you, Tim,” you say with your hand on the door. “You’ll never know how much this means to everyone… to me.”

Tim nods as you leave to return to work, and Lucy claps silently.

“Get in the shop, boot,” he demands.

“You look nice,” you compliment when Tim opens his door the morning of the event. “The red suits you.”

Tim swallows as he looks at you and says, “You don’t have to butter me up, I already said yes.”

“I’m just calling it how I see it,” you assure him.

“I thought this thing didn’t start until 4,” Tim muses as he locks his door and follows you to the car.

“It doesn’t, but we have to get the Santa suit fitted. If you want to leave after and come back at 3, you can take my car.”

Tim shrugs and buckles his seat belt. When you turn the radio to a Christmas station, Tim immediately switches it to a football show. Your jaw drops as you turn toward him.

“You don’t like Christmas music?” you ask incredulously.

“I just don’t think it’s okay to give someone 23 birds,” he explains.

“My car,” you argue when he reaches for the control.

“My Santa debut,” he replies.

You give up and back out of his driveway with an exaggerated scoff.

“Why do you want me to be Santa anyway? I get that you had to ask people you know but I’m clearly not jolly enough.”

“Why is that?” you inquire. “I can understand not loving the music or the commercialism. The rest of it, though, that’s what I don’t get.”

“Just… don’t love the holidays. Reminds me of the things I don’t have anymore, I guess.”

Glancing at Tim, you wonder what it feels like to be someone’s for the holidays. Yes, it’s hard to be jolly when you miss someone, but for a moment, you wonder what it would be like to listen to carolers and decorate the tree while being in love.

“What’s this event like?” Tim asks, pulling you from your thoughts. “Been working on it long?”

“Since September,” you answer. “It’s geared toward the kids, but we have to do something to get the parents in too, so there’s raffles, a silent auction, dinner, and an area where they can sit with each other while someone else watches their kids.”

“So, it’s for donors?”

“At first,” you explain. “The donors are welcome to come anytime between 4 and 7. Then, we make everything absolutely perfect and bring in the kids from the hospitals at 8. They get more time with Santa, more gifts and games and treats. I know we have to raise a lot of money, but it’s not worth it if the kids don’t get to have fun with it too.”

“You’re really good at this,” Tim compliments, looking at you. “I didn’t know how much you put into all of this.”

“Now you regret saying no at first, huh?” you tease.

“That depends on how good the cookies are.”

“Then why are you so nervous?” you ask as you pull into the event center’s parking lot.

“I’m not-“

“It’s hidden well, but it’s there, Tim. You know you’re good with kids, so don’t let the size of this get to you.”

“I’ll try.”

“And if you get overwhelmed, Santa can always take a cookie break. I’ll be around if you need anything.”

You wish Tim luck as you drop him off with the wardrobe designer you hired, then begin transforming the space into a winter wonderland.

“Are you okay?” Holly asks as you finish constructing the games for the children from the hospital.

“I came to ask the same,” Santa says from behind you.

You turn quickly and smile at the sight of Tim in the suit. His beard has been set aside while he takes a break, but something about seeing him this way feels right.

“I’m fine,” you assure them. “Rich people are hard to please, I’m used to it.”

“Nobody should get used to people screaming in their face because the caviar is room temperature,” Holly argues.

“Is that what it was about?” Tim asks with a humorless laugh.

“He got over it. I actually saw him eating the caviar later,” you say. “Besides, this is the part of the night I’m here for.”

“You’re an excellent Santa,” Holly tells Tim. “The kids went on and on about you.”

“Told you,” you sing song.

“Do I give gifts to every kid?” Tim asks you.

“Yes, give them as many as you want because we have more. The red candy cane paper is more girly gifts, blue snowflake paper is for boys, and the gingerbread paper is gender neutral,” you list. “The elves also have a list of what we have, so if a kid asks for something specific, someone can check for you.”

“You should’ve been a cop,” Tim muses. “I wish my boot could keep things this streamlined.”

“You need to get back to the Northpole,” Holly says, glancing at her watch. “Not that this isn’t adorable.”

“Tim,” you call as he walks away. “Thank you.”

“It’s the only thing you’re getting for Christmas!” he replies.

Holly smiles as she moves to your side, and you glare at her.

“A gorgeous man wrapped in a Santa suit,” she muses. “You got every girl’s dream gift.”

“He isn’t mine,” you remind her.

“Christmas seems like the perfect time to change that.”

“Excuse me?” a young girl asks.

“Hello,” you greet, smiling as you squat beside her. “What’s your name?”

“Sally,” she answers. “Will you go with me to see Santa?”

“Of course!” You offer your hand and lead Sally through the crowds of happy children and grateful parents to get in line to see Santa. “What are you asking for this year?”

“I want a Hug-Wave,” she says softly, wrapping both her hands around yours.

“What’s that?”

“It’s twin stuffed animals, and when you hug one, it sends a hug to the other. I want to give my brother one so I can send him hugs when I have to stay in the hospital. He’s coming to see me on Christmas, but I miss him.”

Your eyes tear up, and you smile at Sally as you move forward in line. “I’m sure Santa will bring you one,” you assure her. “Look, we’re next!”

“You’ll stay with me?”

“Of course, Sally.”

As you walk onto the red carpet platform, Tim looks at you before looking at Sally. You mouth her name, and Tim calls, “Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas, Sally!”

“You know my name?” she asks softly, stopping beside his knees.

“Santa knows all of the good boys’ and girls’ names, and you, Sally, are on my nice list!”

“Do you want to sit on his lap?” you ask Sally.

She nods but keeps her hand firmly in yours. You move to Tim’s side as he pulls her onto his leg and blink to get the tears out of your eyes as Sally tells Santa about the hugging stuffed animal she wants to stay close to her brother.

“I think you and your brother would love that, Sally,” Tim says. “I’ll tell my elves about your wish, and we’ll work on that.”

“Thank you, Santa,” Sally says before pulling her hand from yours and hugging Tim.

You wipe your face before taking Sally’s hand and leading her to pin the nose on Rudolph, where she plays with kids like she didn’t just tug your heartstrings. Turning to check on everything, you notice that the Santa chair is empty, and the elves are entertaining the children in line. Less than a minute later, Tim returns and continues to visit children and parents alike.

“Psst!” someone calls.

You furrow your brows as you turn, and when you see Lucy, your eyes widen in shock.

“Santa asked me to bring you this,” she whispers as she slips a large gift bag through the door. “Care to be an elf for me?”

“Thank you,” you tell her. “I’ll take it to him now.”

“It looks amazing in here!”

“You’re welcome to stay, Lucy.”

You walk toward the North Pole area and tap an elf’s shoulder to take the gift to Tim. He excuses himself after the last child and walks to your side with the bag in his hand.

“Where’s Sally?” he whispers in your ear.

You look up at him and feel your tears building again as you say, “Tim–”

“I’m Santa tonight.”

You locate Sally sitting at a table with her parents and brother and eating a cupcake. Following behind Tim, you press your hand over your mouth as he kneels beside her and offers the bag. Her parents look at one another in shock as she removes the bears from the bag, then mouth their gratitude to Tim. Sally passes her brother a bear, and they begin hugging them to hug one another, and you decide this is the Christmas miracle you hoped to see.

Tim exits the small dressing room in the back hallway and doesn’t see you before you wrap your arms around his neck to hug him.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his neck. “For being Santa and for giving Sally the gift.”

Tim tightens his arms around your waist before you pull back. “It’s the least I could do,” he deflects with a shrug.

“No, it isn’t,” you insist. “I talked to Sally’s parents. They can barely afford gas to go back and forth to work and the hospital right now because one of them has to stay with her full-time because of her treatment. That’s why her brother can’t visit much.”

“Is she…”

“The doctors are hopeful that her current treatment is working,” you assure him. “They’re expecting to send her home sometime in the spring if she continues improving. Tim, you made their entire year.”

“You deserve some of that credit.”

“You pulled off a Christmas miracle, it’s all yours.”

“Does that mean you’ll tell me why you chose to ask me to be Santa?” Tim asks with a smile. His hands are still on your waist, but you’re dreading the moment when he steps back.

“Because I knew you could do it,” you answer. “You’re the only person I know that is kind and generous, selfless without letting people know it, and even if you get mad at me for saying it, you are kind and a big softie. You’re special, Tim Bradford, and a gentleman, and the closest thing I’ve seen to magical in a very long time. That’s why I asked and kept asking.”

“Well, you’re the closest thing I’ve seen to Mrs. Claus… ever,” he replies lightly.

“Without the time to bake and ‘Mrs.’ you mean.”

Tim shakes his head and asks, “Who helped you decorate?”

“Holly, mostly. Why?”

Lifting his chin, Tim gestures to the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

“It’s tradition,” you begin.

“You don’t have to convince me,” Tim interrupts.

He moves a hand from your waist to your cheek and kisses you. It feels like fireworks, warm hot chocolate, and every good and magical thing you can think of all at once. You move your hands to Tim’s jaw and move together, then pull back to thank him again.

“Thank you for calling Lucy and getting Sally’s gift here so quickly.”

Tim’s brow pinches as he says, “I didn’t call Lucy. I thought you got the gift here for her?”

You shake your head, then ask, “Well if you didn’t order it, and I didn’t order it, which Santa asked Lucy to bring it?”

Tim hesitates before he says, “It couldn’t…”

“There you are!” Holly calls as she enters the hallway. “I could not find this entrance, geez. Oh, hey, mistletoe!”

“You didn’t put this up?” you ask her.

“Me? No, I don’t even know where to buy mistletoe. That made me sound so single.”

You look at Tim, who smiles and whispers, “Christmas magic,” as he leans in again.

#fluentmoviequoter hot cocoa bar🧤❄️🎄#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #fem!reader #hanna writes✯#the rookie x reader #the rookie abc

125 notes · View notes

noparadiseinthis · 4 months ago

Text

English is not my first language. Bear with me, Grammarly helps, but it doesn't work miracles.

About ties and shoes (or "when did it stop being 'us'?")

James Wilson/fem!wife!Reader

Warnings: James Wilson at a wedding is his own warning. Mentions of Wilson's infidelity and failed marriages. Angst without comfort. House surprisingly being an almost decent person.

Summary: You were never one to pay much attention to what other people wore, not even your husband. Until House commented on your new tie and shoes, which you'd never seen before.

Words: 1k

Things hadn't been on the best terms between you and Wilson lately, he always seemed stressed and tired, coming home late and going straight to bed. Ignoring your good night, your hugs, and your lovingly prepared dinner in the hope that this time he would bother to eat with you. Even the lunches you used to share during your breaks no longer exist; your messages are answered only with "Sorry, I've already had lunch." I. When did it stop being "us"?

Today would be different. You'd surprise him at the hospital and have lunch with your husband and House - your husband's husband - the grumpy man couldn't monopolize him forever. Over time, you ended up developing a reluctant companionship with House.

Taking the lunch you had prepared earlier out of your bag, you left work and started walking to the hospital, which was on the same street.

●●●

Recognizing you, the reception staff let you pass without much fuss, and no one gave you a second glance in the corridors. You didn't find your husband in the room itself, which must have meant you were with House, it was always House.

"Knock knock." You said with a smile, her knuckles tapping against the open door.

James turned around, a shy smile appearing on his face as you entered the room. House just looked up.

"Let's see if that isn't the lovely fourth Mrs. Wilson," he said in a monotone.

James glared at his friend, hating that nickname every time it was uttered, but you just rolled your eyes, having gotten used to it a long time ago.

"I brought your lunch, I thought we could have lunch together today," you muttered, approaching your husband with a smile and bending down to kiss his cheek.

"Own, he's still blushing" House mocked.

"Shut up," Wilson muttered, masking his red cheeks as he sank into his lab coat. "My lunch break is ending, actually," he said, a sad look appearing as he saw your disappointment and your dying smile, "but House's is just starting; he can keep you company."

"Ah," you gasped, your mouth hanging open in surprise as you tried to force yourself to smile.

"Oh oh, someone's going to sleep in the doghouse."

Wilson shot an angry glance, before looking back at you with a sad, reluctant smile.

"I'm sorry, darling." He bent down to kiss your forehead "I promise I'll make it up to you," he whispered into your ear.

So shaken, you didn't even bother to leave House's office, throwing yourself into the armchair from which your husband had left.

"Oh, we're staying then?" He said with irritation as Wilson walked out the door.

You knew that most of this picking on you was purely out of a habit of despising any human being, so you didn't let one more thing bother you while you opened your lunch.

"Oh, she's going to eat too"

Silently you placed Wilson's food on the table, pushing it towards him.

"Thank you," you heard him whisper.

●●●

"You've got to stop giving Wilson ties, I can't keep up anymore. What about the shoes? It's like he's a fucking dancer" House grumbled as he ate his food as if it had offended him personally, but as he hadn't complained yet, you could only assume that he liked it.

The clattering of your fork stopped immediately as you swallowed and processed what he'd said, raising your head with a deep crease between your eyebrows.

"I never gave James ties or shoes."

Gregory sighed.

"Never mind then," he muttered back, shrugging.

His words from years ago on meeting her made you wince. "When Wilson started wearing ties and new shoes I knew there was a future fourth Mrs. Wilson out there."

"What are you talking about, House?" you asked suspiciously.

"Oh, it's no big deal, I must have been mistaken. I know you two are fine, after all, Wilson has been leaving early every day to have dinner with you."

That was the last straw. House observed the myriad of emotions in you. The shock, the attempted denial, the sadness and hurt, and finally, the anger as you stood up abruptly and left the room without saying a word, but it wasn't necessary; he already knew why.

Staring at his wall, Gregory remembered a conversation from years ago. Wilson's words were still etched in his mind: "Oh no, she doesn't give me those kinds of gifts. She's the type who cooks for me and stuff, if I want something material, I'll probably have to ask."

He didn't feel a shred of remorse. Never meddled in any of your friends' marriages; didn't like their wives enough for that. You were... bearable. The kind that deserved to know.

●●●

A locked door. The door to their bedroom had never been locked before. The kitchen was untouched, where dinner would normally be ready and a plate prepared for him. James frowned, pulling out his cell phone to look at the date, wondering if he had forgotten any important dates.

"Darling? Are you all right in there?" shouted through the door, his confusion audible in his voice.

"Go away, James!" you exclaimed, your voice tearful.

"Are you crying? What's the matter? Talk to me, love." he replied, beginning to worry more and more.

"Get out of my life!"

Inside, you remembered all the good memories with your husband. All the times he reassured you and dispelled all your insecurities with his kisses and affection, how he made sure you knew you were the most important person in his life. How you were the idiot who believed that a man had betrayed so many times would change for you. How you deliberately chose to ignore your past, thinking you were marrying a different man. James Wilson never changed and never would.

●●●

House heard the noise on his cell phone and approached the coffee table to read the new message.

Wilson

What did you say to her, you bastard?

With a sigh, he off the screen. This was no longer your problem.

#james wilson #james wilson x reader #house md #james wilson x you #angst

139 notes · View notes

imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 1 year ago

Text

imagine teasing Sanji and Zoro

throuple fluff

Sunny’s kitchen was filled with the smell of rosemary and thyme; dinner was being cooked and when you walked in the cutest cook in all the seas greeted you with a warm, tender smile. Sanji beckoned you over to him, right arm held out ready to receive a hug while the other hand kept busy searing the steaks that were cooking. “How was shopping with Nami and Robin, love?”

Slipping into his embrace, your nose nuzzled into his chest, and he kissed the top of your head. The two of you stood there as you told him about all the shops you had gone to – the bookstore, where you picked up a cookbook for him. He was elated that you even thought of him, and your head leaned back to give him a glare. “I always think about you all the time, silly.”

Sanji’s eyes glistened with warmth just as the kitchen door swung open and Zoro appeared, wearing one of the new black tees you had picked out for him. He glanced at the way Sanji was holding you, making his way to the fridge. “I need a cold drink, it’s hot out there.”

“I put a few drinks in the freezer for you.”

“How thoughtful, Sanji.” He blushed when you kissed him on the cheek and when you went to kiss him again, he turned his head to capture the kiss on his lips. You laughed, nipping at his bottom lip before feeling a different arm come around your waist. Sanji released you, focusing on the steaks while Zoro came from behind you; slipping a bottle of ale in your hand as he buried his nose into the nape of your neck. He grumbled about the weather again as you popped open the bottle for him. “Drink up, sweetie.”

Without looking, you knew Zoro’s cheeks were bruised maroon when he kissed your neck before moving to your side. He took the drink and thanked you, promptly asking when the food would be ready.

“Patience is a virtue, Mosshead.”

“Stop being so slow, cook.”

Ignoring them, you pushed past them as they started to argue; retrieving the dinner plates, hardly registering what the two men were bickering about. This happened at least twice a day both most times, they were decent to each other – they actually adored each other in ways they would never openly admit but you were the only one privileged to witness such miracles. Setting the plates down on the counter, you turned to Zoro and Sanji and swiftly smacked their bottoms with such gravity, they both jumped. They both turned to you with blushed expressions, and you laughed. “Ah, so that’s how I can get you two to shut up? Duly noted. I need to go unpack my purchases; I’ll be back for dinner. “

You moved in between the two; hand resting on Zoro’s chest as you leaned in to kiss Sanji, who placed a hand on your waist. His kisses were always gentle and delicate. Reaching down for the cook’s hand, you moved your attention to Zoro. He always was so serious looking but when your lips pressed against his, you could feel him relax. The swordsman’s kisses were always so eager and a little rough – both men equally satisfying in their own ways. Releasing your hold on both men, you left the room and they stood silent for a moment before Sanji resumed cooking. Zoro took a long sip of his ale before eyeing Sanji with a smirk.

“We’re going to get her back for that, right?”

Sanji looked up from the pan, thanking Zoro when he handed him one of the bottles from the freezer. He cracked the top off and snorted. “Oh, she’s definitely not going to be able to walk tomorrow morning.”

Zoro laughed then, a wicked little laugh, and held out his bottle. Sanji clicked his bottle against Zoro’s and the two men laughed, neither willing to confess out loud how badly their asses felt but both eager to return the favor.

#zoro x reader x sanji #sanji x reader x zoro #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #one piece #wano

590 notes · View notes

marlsswrites · 6 months ago

Text

Summer camp AU, part 4!!

July 4th <3

Wings - @jegulus-microfic - words: 901

TW: Referenced drug use

First part Previous part

“Are you lot supposed to be doing that?” Regulus snorted as he took a seat next to Barty under a tree near his cabin, Pandora sat with her legs in the water, splashing someone every now and again.

Regulus had a long day, he and James woke up early and took the kids for a tour around the camp. They visited some of the animals, planned some activities, and he nearly got pushed over by a thirteen year old when James convinced him to play tag with everyone. It’s a miracle no one got hurt, it was pure chaos.

Barty had a blunt between his fingers, holding it to his mouth and moving it to Evans.

“Me and Ev have never been caught before.” Pandora spoke slightly dreamily, smiling to the sky. “Plus it’s night, all the kids are asleep

Dorcas shortly followed from the direction Regulus had came from, throwing herself half into Regulus’ lap and half onto Barty.

“Want a hit Dory?” Barty asked, giggling, yes giggling, slightly as Evan stroked his hair.

“I will hit you if you call me that again.” She hissed, swiping the blunt from her friends hand and holding it up to her mouth, releasing a sigh.

Regulus made grabby hands to Dorcas, she passed him the blunt with a smirk as he blew smoke into the air.

“How was your day?” Pandora asked as she skimmed a stone on the river, it going shockingly far with a cheer from Evan.

“Potter was a piss take, as per usual.” Regulus spoke with a shrug. “The kids are decent enough.”

Pandora hummed, waiting a few moments before speaking. “My day was amazing, thanks for asking!” She smiled. “Lily Evans was so-“

“Hot?” Barty and Dorcas asked at the same time.

“Beautiful?” Regulus queried.

“Sweet?” Evan added.

“All three!” She squealed with heart eyes. “Let me finish though.” Her face dropped into a face of curiosity and soft thoughts as she spoke.

The group groaned in unison, there goes the rest of the night.

Regulus wasn’t entirely sure what time it was now, but it had to be late… or early morning. God knows.

The group seemed to get louder and louder as the night went along, Regulus just prayed they didn’t wake any of the kids up or this would be his first and last summer working at the camp.

“Where would you fly if you had wings?” Pandora spoke drearily, now on her back on the grass, her blonde hair splayed everywhere.

“Mars.” Dorcas replied.

“I’d scoop my dad up and drop him into the ocean.” Barty snorted.

Regulus pointed at Barty and nodded vigorously. “Yes, that one, but with both of them.” He spat.

The group talked and laughed, joked and splashed, complained and smoked, until the sound of rustling leaves broke Regulus out of his current trance.

“What the fuck are you lot doing?” The groggy voice of James Potter spoke as Regulus turned around, smiling innocently.

“Oh- hi Reg.” James’ face lit up, something unreadable taking place in his eyes before disappearing quickly.

“What does it look like, Potter?” Barty snapped.

James gave Barty a wary look, his eyes still slightly sleepy and his morning voice cracking as he spoke. Regulus will not be addressing how endearing he finds him right now. “How do you even know my last name?“ He snorted. “You don’t even know me.”

“Oh I know plenty about you, James Potter.” With a threatening tone to his voice, Barty scowled. Taking a step forward into the light, James’ brown skin reflected the slowly dispersing moonlight, that was the main thing that Regulus took high notice to due to his total lack of shirt.

Regulus sat in silence and tore his eyes away from the addictive sight, sipping at one of the cans of beer that Evan brought, despite the fact that his can had been empty of liquid for the past half hour.

“Barty stop being a prick.” Regulus mumbled into the can.

“I actually don’t think it’s physically possible for him to stop, it’s who he is.” Dorcas spoke with a dramatic sigh and a hand to her chest.

Pandora pouted and reached over to give Barty a forehead kiss. “Poor baby.” She tutted.

“Do you know what time it is?” James asked with a twitch of his lips, looking Regulus directly in his slightly bloodshot eyes.

“No.” The five of them spoke.

“Well.” James started. “It’s four in the morning and you lot are obnoxiously loud.”

Regulus scoffed, attempting to stand up but failing and resorted to sitting back down on a tree stump. “Says you.”

“And we,” James pointed to Regulus. “Need to be up early for first aid training tomorrow- well, today.”

Groaning into his hands, Regulus attempted to stand up again, James now rushing towards him and offering him a hand. Normally, Regulus would scowl and hit it away, but his slightly drunken brain just took it and registered how soft it felt.

He really likes holding James Potter’s hand, he thought to himself.

Stumbling forward into James, the brunette caught him and laughed, pushing him back towards the nearby cabin.

He swore he heard his friends laughs and whispers as he held onto James on the way back, but he really didn’t have the energy to question anything right now.

The questioning would come tomorrow, his brain is already fried enough.

Next part

#marauders #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #rosekiller #jegulus fic #wolfstar #jegulus microfic #pandalily #starchaser #sunseeker #slytherin skittles #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #pandora rosier #dorcas meadowes #writers on tumblr

119 notes · View notes

thewulf · 1 year ago

Text

Absolutely Gorgeous || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Anyways what if they meet a teacher from base like she teaches at the school on base at the bar but she’s not drinking just hanging out! Like how do you think that would go? Read Rest Here

A/N: Back at it with my favorite man!! Hope you guys enjoy! As always, thank you for the request!!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 3.1k +

“Finally!” Your co-worker, Molly, squealed as she put the overflowing binder down on her desk, “Three months of freedom!”

Grinning you nodded your head along with her, “They’re not that bad, Molls.”

She had to suppress the eye roll she wanted to give you, “You had a class of little fourth grade angels. I had those sixth-grade demons all year long.”

Your laughter filled up Molly’s empty classroom, “Fair. They were probably my best class yet.”

She nodded her head, “Sometimes you get lucky like that. Was not my year.”

“Maybe next? What grade are you teaching anyway?” The two of you began to walk out of the building for the last time this summer. That was until you needed to get the decorations hung for the next school year.

She shrugged, “Haven’t been assigned yet.”

You nodded along thinking to yourself. The school on base was… tiny. Itty bitty. It was a miracle it even functioned. It was another miracle there were enough students to keep the place running. But they did. And it kept you employed. You’d only been teaching for the last three years, still trying to find your groove. You’d stumbled upon this job in your search and couldn’t believe it actually paid a decent wage. So, you took it and ran.

“Hey, are you coming to the Hard Deck tonight?” She asked once the two of you got to the almost desolate parking lot. Just your two cars and the principals left.

You shrugged, “Wasn’t planning to.” It’s not that you hated going it was just horribly overwhelming for you almost every time you went. It always ended the same damn way every single time. You’d get all dressed up, put too much makeup on and then get ignored. The friends you’d come with would always, always, find a man to talk to leaving you in limbo. It wasn’t for a lack of trying either. You tried so hard to just strike up a conversation with anybody only to be left or once again, ignored.

It hurt at first. Then you got used to it. You’d, unfortunately, had gotten used to being alone in a really crowded place. So, you just started going out with them less and less. You loved them. The group of friends you’d found in San Diego was like nothing you’d had before. You didn’t even think yourself as unattractive. It’s just when you stood next to them you’d looked incredibly average. Average and boring. Which was fine, it just got a little old when the hot pilot would be chatting up everybody but you.

“You should come!” Molly squeezed your bicep trying to convince you with a cheerful gaze crossing her eyes, “It’ll be so fun. All of the teachers are planning on coming!”

You had to bite your lip from the instant scowl that wanted to cross your face, “I’ll have to think about it.”

She shook her head, “That means no. Come on Y/N! Please?” Hey big blue eyes turned down as she gave you a silent pout.

It was really hard to say no to Molly. She was so kind, sweet and so damn infectious you just wanted to say, “Yeah, sure. I can come for a little. You know I don’t drink though, right?”

She nodded, “I know, it’s still nice to have you there. You keep our heads level and in check.”

You only laughed a little. You decided to call off drinking back in college. You’d had too many hospital visits for alcohol poisoning that even you got embarrassed. You just never seemed to be able to control yourself. You’d tried. For years you’d tried. But you’d always, always, without fail would take it one step too far. That’s when you decided to quit. You became an entirely different person that you hated when you drank.

“Somebody has to.”

She squeezed your arm. That’s who she was. She loved giving physical affection. At any chance she could she’d give a hug or squeeze an extremity. Only if you were comfortable with it though. She made sure of it though.

“I’m so glad you’re coming! We’re meeting at six. A bunch of pilots just got back from a mission too. Shelly told us last night.” She clapped all too excitedly.

Great. Just great. Hopefully Penny was working. That’d give you somebody to talk to. Giving her a slight head bob, you hoped it would come off as excited, “That’ll make for an interesting night.”

She shot you a wink, “You don’t know the half of it. Alright, see you tonight?” She headed for her car after stopping at yours to finish up the conversation.

“Yeah, see you tonight.” You hopped in your car already feeling the dread of tonight. You’d just leave before the sun set. That’s all you needed to do. It’d be alright.

You were already regretting committing once you parked your car. Maybe you could just bail now? Fake an illness? But then the literal two hours you spent getting ready would be for null.

Sighing you decided to just walk in. It’d be fine. You looked nice. Opted for a pretty floral sundress. It was far too hot to even contemplate putting shorts on. So, a dress it was. This time a sigh of relief escaped your mouth seeing Penny behind the bar with a few other bartenders.

“Y/N!” You spotted Molly waving at you frantically. The three girls already sitting at the bar with a drink in hand. They all looked beyond beautiful. It came naturally for Molly. You knew you were slightly jealous of the girl, who wouldn’t be though? Shelly brought her friend Erin. Who both looked stunning. It wouldn’t be long now before each girl would get plucked. Might as well enjoy the time you had with them all.

“Hey pretty ladies.” You hugged each one before sitting next to Molly. You jumped right into the conversation with the girls finding yourself quickly engaged with the drama Erin was telling the group about.

Not long after you finished your first soda Shelly was getting chatted up. That was quicker than normal. The sun wouldn’t even be setting for another few hours yet. Maybe you’d have to make your great escape far sooner than you planned too.

Being so wrapped up in your own thoughts you hadn’t even heard the pilot slowly approach the bar next to you. He’d even ordered and all before he attempted to grab your attention. You caught Jakes attention almost immediately when he heard your friend call for you. He’d never been so entranced by somebody so damn quickly. He knew immediately he’d have to approach you.

He'd watched you for longer than even he’d care to admit. But how could you blame him? Your smile nearly took his breath away. His attention was so drawn away from the conversation that he didn’t even hear rooster make a snide remark. His eyes remained on you from across the bar. He was being beyond creepy, and he knew it. But for the first time in his life, he almost felt nervous at the thought of approaching you. Nervous of the thought of you rejecting him. He honestly didn’t know if he could take it. He’d never felt anything so strongly before without even talking to you.

“Whatcha drinking darlin’? I can get you another one.” Jake smiled softly. He’d decided to play down his usual overt flirtyness not wanting to scare you off. As often as it worked sometimes he did get turned down

You looked down at your glass realizing you were out. Then you decided to look at the face that the voice came from. He was handsome. So very handsome. That was without question. But he surely wasn’t talking to you. Nobody ever talked to you. So you turned away waiting to hear the conversation go on.

You waited a second not hearing a response but turning back to the pilot who was looking at you like he was waiting for an answer, “Me?” You’d asked with the utmost confusion.

He chuckled softly, “Yeah you. Who else?”

You peaked around and shrugged, “Not sure.” You’d admitted.

He brushed it off, “So? A drink?”

You nodded, he’s harmless you were sure of it, “Sure. Soda.”

A smile broke out onto his face as he tried to flag down a bartender, “Mind if I have a seat?” He asked you, not wanting to assume like he had so many times before. He had a feeling you were different. Whatever the hell that meant. But he knew one thing. He felt different. Nervous. Anxious.

You shook you head quickly. Almost on instinct, “No, not at all.” He didn’t seem to judge you in the least for your drink of choice. That often alienated people even further. What weirdo orders a soda at the bar? You. You did. You just pretended it was a jack and coke or something. It was easier that way.

You felt an elbow to your side. It had to have been Molly pushing you along. When you turned to snap at her she was walking away, waving, “We’re going to sit outside!” She winked knowing you were trapped. You were far too cowardly to run away so quickly so you decided to stay. But you felt far too cowardly to stay too. It had to be a sick joke or something now. Why would this gorgeous man want anything to do with you? Especially when Molly and Erin were right there.

“Thanks sweetheart.” He only smiled seeing you look straight ahead. Either you were shy or incredibly standoffish. He had to assume the earlier. Especially with how seemingly friendly you’d already been to him. It wasn’t all that often that beautiful women were shy Jake had noticed over time.

You nodded your head thankful your head decided to fall over your ear shielding the rising blush for him, “Sure.”

He sat down quickly turning himself towards you. This was going to be difficult he decided. He wanted to be forward, so you knew his intentions, but he didn’t want to be too much. Or worse, make you uncomfortable. He knew that there was no coming back from that. You just seemed shy though. Like you didn’t know how to proceed. So, he’d take the reins and steer the conversation.

“Haven’t seen you before. You from around here?” He tried to break the ice. He didn’t know if it’d creep you out. He’d never been this fucking unsure of himself and it was beginning to drive him mad already.

He seemed genuine you thought. Like he was actually trying to strike up a conversation. You’d still refuse to believe it was anything legit though. Likely a bet with the other khaki uniformed people in the corner of the bar.

Fuck it. May as well entertain it. Even if it was a joke at least it was a conversation. Not like you’d had your friends to fall back on, “Yeah, teach at the school on base. Live close by. Just don’t get out that much.”

He hummed contemplating what to say, “That’s too bad.”

“What’s that?” You asked him all too curious at what he meant.

He shrugged trying to play it off nonchalantly. It felt like he was in seventh grade all over again trying to learn how to flirt all over again, “Could’ve met you weeks ago darlin’” He grinned scooting ever so slightly closer to you.

Was he being serious? Even if he wasn’t you couldn’t stop the reaction that came with the conversation with him, “Well,” You decided it was time to be confident. What’d you have to lose? “I’m here now.” You finished wanted to suck in a breath. These flashes of confidence came around occasionally.

His smile turned down into a low smirk. His eyes darked just a tad as he leaned in. He took that as an invitation. You’d more than invited him in now, “That you are beautiful. And I am so thankful for that.” He almost whispered in your ear.

You still shivered. He was laying it on thick now. So would you. Or throw it back in his face, “Are you?”

He nodded, “Very. Means I can ask you out on a date.”

The laugh that left your mouth was inescapable. It had to be a joke. In your twenty-five years on this planet this had not once happened to you. It happened to all of your friends, sure, but not you, “Yeah, sure.” You voice was oozing sarcasm that wasn’t lost on Jake.

He tilted his head as he observed you, “What?”

“Is this some sort of joke or?” You looked around waiting for somebody to point at you, laughing. That’d be horrifying.

He shook his head, “Not at all sweetheart. Why would you think that?” He asked with all the sincerity lacing both his face and his expression.

You took a breath. Because nobody had ever done this before? Because why would he, the most handsome guy you’d laid your eyes upon, have any interest in you? Because this was the last thing you expected tonight. Not that you were against the thought. You just couldn’t believe it.

“No reason.” You tried to play it off as coolly as possible, but you knew you failed. You were fidgety and anxious. Not attractive at all.

“So, what do you say?”

You looked around. Why did he pick you? It just didn’t make sense. There were so many beautiful women. When you were constantly picked last it just didn’t compute when you were one of the first to be picked, “Are you sure?”

He studied your face before his smirk dropped into a frown, “Yes darlin’. I’m positive. Why do you keep trying to check?” He turned the question around on you.

“I mean, there’s women in here like Molly.” You pointed to your blonde friend who was sitting at a bench outside near the beach.

Ahh, that made sense to him. But it didn’t at the same time. You were beautiful too. Just as beautiful as the other women in the bar. If not even more beautiful. Something about you just got his mind going crazy and he wasn’t quite sure what the hell it was. But damn was he determined to figure it out.

He looked over to the girl you pointed to and shrugged, “She’s pretty but not really my type.”

You took your time looking over his features making sure he wasn’t lying to you, “Erin?”

His eyes flicked to the other blonde-haired girl you were pointing too. He shook his head, “I think you’re beautiful. She’s pretty but you’re… you’re absolutely gorgeous. What’s that mean?” He needed to get you to stop thinking about everybody else. He needed you to think about you. To stop comparing yourself. It had to have come from somewhere. Self-doubt always came from a place of neglect. Whatever it was he wanted to help you. Hell, he wanted to go on a date and then ten more with you already. He could just tell you were so layered, had so much to you. He was more than fascinated and needed to find out more. For the first time ever, Jake wanted to get to know the person he was talking to instead of getting into their bed.

It was slowly starting to click into place for you. Maybe he did actually find you attractive. He was certainly being adamant about it, “Really?” You were aware how cringy it actually was to look so daft and clueless. But on the other hand, you were genuinely mystified by the entirety of the situation. It’s not like you never ever got male attention. It just never came in this form. It always seemed to come with a catch.

His softer smile retuned as he reassured you, “Really. I’d love to take you out on a date…” His eyes went wide as he trailed off, “I don’t even know your name.” Looking away in slight embarrassment it was your turn to gain a little confidence now. You were pretty sure that he was actually into you. He was as handsome as ever. And he seemed a touch nervous to talk to you. This was your chance.

Returning his soft smile, you sat up a little taller in your barstool as you turned to him just a little, “Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeated committing it to his memory. He got that exiting feeling that you’d be in his life to come for a long while. Taking a second to really remember this moment in time. Your soft smile, the light blush that danced across your cheeks, the way the sunset seemed to gleam off your glistening eyes. He was a sucker already. He’d hardly known you, but he was ready to dive right on in.

You hummed taking a sip of the Diet Coke you’d ordered waiting on his name. You weren’t the most talkative in general, so this was a task for you, to say the least. Words never seemed to come all that naturally to you.

“Jake.” He leaned in closer feeling the pull.

“Jake.” You repeated just as he did, “You look like a Jake.”

His smile grew a touch, “Is that a good thing?”

You nodded your head, “I think it is.”

He was full on grinning now, “They say third times the charm. How about a date? Me, you, tomorrow, 5 PM?”

You had to admit you were more than a little excited to be asked. Let alone by him, “Sure, I’d be down.” You cringed internally at that. Why’d you accept like that? You were trying to come off cool not like a sixteen-year-old girl getting asked on her first date ever.

He pulled his phone out in lightning speed, “Well then darlin’, that calls for me getting your number.”

You’d have to put a pound of makeup on tomorrow from how much he was already making you blush. Taking his phone from his grasp you could’ve sworn you felt the butterflies explode when you touched his fingers with your own. With you unusually shaky hands you put your number in before handing the phone back to Jake.

Your phone chimed after he rattled off a text, “And now you have mine sweetheart.”

You didn’t want to admit how smooth that was but your cheeks flaming up gave that bit away. When you didn’t respond he knew he needed to, “As much as I want to stay and talk with you all night sweetheart. Your friends are staring, and I know mind are to. I’ll pick you up at 5?” he stood from the barstool next to you.

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

He sent you another wink before grabbing his beer, “I’ll see you tomorrow gorgeous. Can’t wait.”

“See you tomorrow Jake.” You waved. With that you spun making a beeline for your friends who were nearly squealing by the time you made it to their table.

“Tell us everything!” Molly was smiling from ear to ear truly thankful you’d given somebody a chance.

Taglist: @loving-and-dreaming

726 notes · View notes

roadkillremi · 1 year ago

Text

Kinktober '23

4 out of 11

Sexsomnia

Randy Meeks X F!Reader

MasterList. Kinktober '23

Summary : After a long shift at Bradley's Video, Randy gets needy for you. Characters are 18+, all the following are consented.

Warnings : MINORS DNI, Sex Somnia (Having sex/sexual desires while your partner is asleep/sleepy), Mentions CNC, cock warming, p in V, unprotected, slightly depressed Randy.

Randy closed the door behind him as quietly as possible. He winced as the knob clicked in place scared it'd wake you. He shuffled into the apartment placing the keys on the table. He didn't bother to look at the table, it was cluttered with bills, college letters, and God knows what. He flipped the light switch on groaning at the light.

He wiped his eyes and reached for the fridge. He looked inside, there were some soda cans and yogurt. In the middle of the shelf there was a container. He grabbed it, a post it note laid on top, "Made spaghetti, I love you". He smiled to himself slightly, he didn't know how he became your boyfriend. He thought of it as some miracle, he placed the spaghetti in the microwave. As it heated he turned the TV on, he switched channels until he found something decent.

He sat on the dingy couch once his food was finished. His brain was dead, he just wanted you to hold and kiss him. He hated this, waking up, going to work, coming home, and repeating. He couldn't wait to actually do something, to leave this apartment.

He placed the container in the sink and rinsed it out. He wiped his face with a paper towel and shuffled to the room. He took his shirt and jeans off letting them lay on the floor. He sighed crawling into bed, he glanced over at your sleeping body. He reached out touching your shoulder.

He told you not to stay awake for him. But he wanted you awake. He watched your body take in the air so easily. You looked so peaceful, he curled up against you.

"Randy?..." You muttered.

"Yeah it's me." He whispered. You turned towards him giving him a sleepy smile. The comforter slid down your legs revealing your bare thighs. Randy scanned your body, his shirt and underwear. You laid down pulling the blanket over yourself.

"How was work?" You croaked. Randy stared at you, "It was great..". He couldn't bear to break your little heart. Work was shit. It was always shit, teenagers smoking and trashing the VHS tapes. He started to hate his job more and more.

"That's good.. I .. I made spaghetti." You tried to focus on him. He grinned kissing your forehead, "It was great thanks.". You smiled sloppy, "I love you..".

"I love you too" he rubbed your forearm watching you doze off. He sighed, he really needed your touch, to be close to you. His stomach filled with guilt at the thought of waking you up. His hand slid down your arm, he scooted closer to you. His legs bumped into yours, the heat radiated off of you. He leaned closer to you, he took in a shakey breath. He really just needed you right now, he gripped your waist.

In the past you mentioned to him to use you for his needs. He stared at your parted lips wanting to kiss them. He slid the blanket off your body slowly. He debated on taking the offer, his fingers gripping your underwear. He gently slipped them down, you huffed moving to lay on your back . He crawled on top of you hovering over your sleeping body.

"Y/N..." He whispered. No answer, he leaned down kissing your lips. He pulled his boxers down to his knees. He sat on his knees observing your peaceful state. He parted your legs slowly lifting them slightly. He leaned forward leading himself into you. Your eyes flickered open, "Randy?.." you whispered.

"Yeah it's me." He leaned down kissing your forehead. You whimpered slightly, "you could've woke me up". He smiled, "You were so pretty while you were sleeping... Is.. it's alright.. right?" he panicked. You nodded, "Yeah.. just tired.".

"Shh, go to sleep then." He cooed. Your eyes closed as he thrust into you. Randy's head rested against your shoulder. He whimpered against your skin as he continued. You gently touched his arm, he looked up at you with hungry eyes. Your lips trembled with moans falling out.

"You're so.. so fucking hot" he moaned. He started to leave lazy kisses on your neck. Your eyes barely could stay open as you fell into a state of bliss. He stayed at a steady pace taking you in. He whined, "Imma come..".

"It's alright.." you whispered. He buried his face into your chest letting himself go. His warmth spread through you. He let out a sigh of relief, he rested his body on top of yours. You wrapped your arms around him.

"I just wanna lay here.." he whispered. He grabbed the blanket pulling it up to your waist. His head rested against your shoulder. You squeezed around him causing him to whine.

"Sorry.." you whispered. He softly groaned not pulling himself out. He held on your sides tightly.

"I just wanna be with you.".

Tag list - @hurlonsororitygirls @sanzumylovee @katie-tibo @horneybeach1 @ithinkitszeph

261 notes · View notes

wisteriaiswriting · 11 months ago

Note

*barges into room unannounced* HELLO HELLO! Can I have cypher, Sova, Yoru, and Jett with a male reader who is short and looks scrawny but is actually really strong (stronger than them) thank you very much🥰

𝕌𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕

Words: 751

He has more lean muscle, meaning he’s often underestimated in strength.

But this won’t surprise him, as he’s been keeping tabs on you.

He’ll use this to his advantage. He just brought new technology, but if only someone could move it?

You’ll have to carry him around, he won’t let you go without doing it.

He isn’t the shortest agent so he can make jokes about your height.

***

While the monitors were great investments, Cypher didn’t think about the fact they had to be moved. Firstly to his room then up onto their stands, a task he couldn’t do alone. But there was someone who could help.

“Oh ثعلب الفنك!” He leaned through the doorway, looking into the agent's living area. Mask landing on you, “I need your help over here.”

Quickly you were over, no need to explain as he’s done this plenty of times. Leaning over to the boxes, lifting one into each arm. Walking all the way to his room, likely helping him with installing them as well.

***

ثعلب الفنك - Fennec fox

Has learnt to never underestimate anyone, you’re not an exception to that.

Please pick him up, the last time it happened was when he was a child.

It’ll scare him at the start but once he notices you’re fine he’ll melt. Continue holding him, feels great but looks funny for anyone else watching.

Soon enough he’ll start calling it your strength training, well aware you don't really need it.

Speaking of training, suddenly all your sessions are now joint ones with him.

***

For someone who was 6’2 he was surprisingly light, but that might just be you. And it probably was seeing as you have been carrying him around base for the past thirty minutes.

“Голубь, tomorrow we check your aim with my bow.”

“Doubting me Sasha?”

“Making sure you meet standards.” While you two spoke you missed the look on the others faces. You, who was decently shorter than this man, was so casually carrying him.

***

Голубь - Dove

It is a miracle if you’re shorter than this man, (I believe in 5’4 Yoru) so he takes it in stride.

From his height and lack of visible muscle people underestimate him, doesn’t mean he’ll do that same to you.

Your strength doesn’t stop him from teasing you, instead it causes him to do it more.

You could be an inch shorter and he’ll still pull the ‘holding something above you.’

Don’t pick him up though, unless you want to get hit.

***

Yoru was doing his thing until Phoenix came by and dragged him off. But he didn’t leave, not sure why. The walk around the base was filled with Phoenix’s talking while Yoru listened, after a while he stopped listening.

Following but zoned out, in turn he couldn’t hear you rushing up behind him. Until he was sweeped off his feet.

“Yoru!” You. You had come up and pulled him into a bridal carry. And with such a smug face, he wasn’t accepting it. Holding onto his comb before slamming it onto your head, causing you to drop him to hold your head.

“C’mon!” Your whining had him feeling bad, not that he would allow Phoenix to see that side of him.

“You picked him up? Why didn’t you show me earlier.” And back to normal, Phoenix guiding you away while talking your ear off. He’ll care for the injury later.

Again, it’s not often someone is shorter than her so she is taking full advantage of it.

Will use her updrafts to stay taller than you, often landing on something out of your range.

Randomly drops into your arms or onto your back. Forcing you to carry her around.

If you use weights, don’t let her find them please. She’ll try them but will drop them immediately, likely needing Sage after.

Will flirt a lot more than she used to, most revolving around your height, or lack of.

***

“Jett, get down.” She had managed to get onto the hanging kitchen cabinets. And you knew why, she would neither admit it or get down.

“You gotta catch me first, but can you reach?”

“I could if you came down here.”

“But that would ruin the game~” Her teasing only increased as you played her game, with only one way to end it. Kneeling on the counter to be able to reach her before grasping her ankle.

One quick tug had her tumbling down into your arms, her grin hidden behind her hands as it clicked how strong you were.

“Done?”

“For now.”

#valorant x reader #valorant x male reader #valorant sova x reader #sova x reader #sova x male reader #valorant cypher x reader #cypher x reader #cypher x male reader #valorant yoru x reader #yoru x reader #yoru x male reader #valorant jett x reader #jett x reader #jett x male reader #wisteria♥

86 notes · View notes

total-drama-brainrot · 9 months ago

Note

Island Assistant Noah AU, where Noah got himself eliminated on purpose, but Chris + Chef somehow figure it out... The day after Noah's elimination, everyone is surprised to see that Noah's back... Chris reveals that inside the contestants' contracts: "Anyone who gets eliminated on purpose, will become Chris Mcclean's Assistant."... And Noah has to be decent at his job, or he won't get paid... Noah stays Chris' Assistant all throughout Island, Action and World Tour! 🌎 (I'm sorry if I'm asking this twice; I don't remember asking this!)

OKAY!! SO!!

You did already ask me this and I did have an answer in the works to the original ask, but because Tumblr's mobile app is my number one enemy, I accidentally posted it. So, really, it's super fortunate that you asked this twice!

But! Because I'm a smart cookie, I took some screenshots of what I had typed out in the original post, so I can just re-type it out here and carry on! (I'd post just the screenshots, but they're full of typos because I'm just awful at typing on a phone.)

So, here's my answer:

Yes!! Give me a Noah who thought he was being so sneaky and cunning by intentionally getting himself eliminated, only for it to backfire horrendously!

The producers would've known that the contestants were being sent to Camp Wawanakwa instead of the resort their contract heavily implied they'd be going to, so they would absolutely anticipate at least one of them trying to pull a stunt like Getting Themselves Eliminated Intentionally- either as an act of defiance against the trickery (of Camp Wawanakwa not being what was advertised) or just to be spiteful.

Noah being the one to do so is just happenstance.

(It was more so expected from the likes of Duncan or Izzy, who are outwardly anti-authoritarian and not afraid to confront perceived injustices.)

If I may, I'd suggest having the contract outline that whoever intentionally gets themself eliminated has to work as a base-level intern, and that their "pay" is them working off whatever expenses the show invested into them as a competitor (travel costs, lodging, food, ect.). So Noah ends up stuck in the role of an unpaid intern for however long it takes him to "earn his keep" so to speak. But it's a Sisyphean task, since his debt is ever growing- he's forced to stay at Playa des Losers as an intern, and his daily cost of living is just added to the expenses he needs to work off.

At first, he'd be outright resistant to doing any of his tasks as an intern, because why should he? He didn't ask for the job, he didn't (knowingly) sign up for it either, and it's not like he's gonna be paid for his work. That is, until the producers threaten to pass his debt off to the rest of his family to "pick up his slack"; Noah's not heartless, and he cares a lot about his family, so he concedes to actually doing the work expected of him to save the rest of his brood from having to compensate for his short-sightedness.

(Let's say this turn of event takes about a week, meaning that from the time of his own elimination to the threat to his family's financial wellbeing, only Justin and Katie have been eliminated. Since, at least during Island, it's established that a challenge and subsequent elimination ceremony happens every three days.)

Now, the thing about lazy people- of which Noah undoubtedly is- is that they're downright innovative when it comes to figuring out shortcuts for any type of labour. Now that he's invested in doing his job, Noah uses that big brain of his to quickly figure out how to get all of his allotted tasks for the day completed to near-perfection, in a manner that's both efficient and easy. It gets to the point where he's completing a full day's work in an hour, spending the rest of the day doing what he loves; nothing. The other interns are just as annoyed as they are impressed.

Word quickly gets back to Chris about his miracle intern. But he's either too preoccupied to actually listen to who it is, or no one thinks to explain that his most productive labourer is the ex-competitor he'd contractually conned into the position.

Needless to say, Chris' interest is piqued.

The host issues a request to have the mystery intern shipped out to the island so they can work on the "important stuff" instead of doing menial tasks on the Playa, and is met with staunch refusal on their part. Which is odd, at least to Chris, since the interns send to be far too scared shitless of him (or, more notably, Chef) to ever outright deny a request like that.

It makes more sense when Noah's literally dragged kicking and screaming back to the island. Of course the only person ballsy enough to defy Chris' whims is the same contestant who got himself intentionally eliminated via deliberately pissing off his teammates. But he's back, now, so he might as well be put straight to work! No use in wasting labour, after all.

(Again, this probably happens over the course of a few days at most, since showbusiness is such a hectic and fast-paced line of work, so let's say that Tyler's the only new elimination in this timeframe.)

Again, Noah utilizes his higher-than-average smarts to figure out how to streamline his expected tasks because he's lazy, inadvertently proving himself as a Valuable Asset to both Chris and Chef since he's surprisingly good at what he does (even if what he does is very little by design). Chris is quick to offer Noah an ultimatum; he can either be promoted to being Chris' Personal Assistant, thus meeting the demands of his previous contract (and, of course, entering a new one under different pretences) and finally being paid for his work, or remain as an unpaid intern indefinitely and receive penalisation for his slacking off- since, despite the fact that he's gotten all of his work finished, he's still technically on the clock for the allotted work hours and should be acting as such instead of lazing about.

It's not really much of a choice. Noah reluctantly takes the promotion.

That's how he finds himself in the position we all know and love; Chris' Personal Assistant.

Because of his new promotion, he's expected to be at least within the vicinity of Chris at all (reasonable) times. The problem with that? Chris is hosting the show he got himself eliminated from in the most socially destructive way possible. Noah's now contractually forced to, at the very least, tiptoe around the prior teammates he knowingly and intentionally made hate him and dearly hope they don't notice him.

...Thus begins an AU's worth of shenanigans wherein Noah is desperately trying to fly under everyone's radar as an intern.

(I'd carry on into what he does during Action and World Tour, but this post is already fairly long, so maybe another time?)

#love having noah face the consequences of his actions #especially when they're disproportionate to his actual “crimes”#also really like the headcanon that he got himself eliminated on purpose. it's JUST maliciously compliant enough for him to feasibly do.#...not that i think he did. in my mind noah really is just that much of an asshole AND socially illiterate enough--#to do what he did in the dodgebrawl episode with no ulterior motive.#anyway in this au noah gets his two disaster gay uncles via chef and chris because i said so.#all assistant noahs get to have chref guardians. as a treat.#total drama #td noah #assistant noah au #silly ideas #others' ideas #replies

60 notes · View notes