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Time Unsolved
Dp Unsolved
“Today on Buzzfeed unsolved we cover the Timely Disappearance of Charles T. Williamsworth.”
Danny slurped loudly on his drink as the intro played. Was he maybe crazy for watching a Buzzfeed Unsolved True Crime alone, at night? Maybe.
But Danny had been attacked by ghosts. What was a human gonna do that Skulker couldn’t?
“What a name!” Shane cut in immediately, the video showing him seated at their table holding a cup of coffee. Ryan laughed.
“‘Ello, yes, my name is Sir Charles T. Williamsworth, how art thou? Ah yes, jolly good!” Shane mimicked with a horrifically bad posh British accent.
Ryan laughed harder, “We’ve been to London, they don’t sound like that!” He said between laughs.
“Uh, he does! There’s no way a man with a name like that is not ‘mm yes I will take a spot of tea with my biscuit thank you.’ I’m calling it, he definitely talked like that!”
Danny smiled at the antics as Ryan wheezed, “Well it’s too bad we’ll never know for sure then isn’t it, what with his disappearance, y’know what we’re actually here to talk about.”
“That’s okay. I’ll know. I know my buddy Charles.”
“Alright then.”
Ryan flicked his file open as Shane took a sip from his coffee.
The screen lit up with an image of a man on a black backdrop.
“The Williamsworths were a French-German family who moved to Biel, Switzerland in early 1914, just months before the largest war in European history kicked off.
They were one of the lucky few families to have left France before the war broke out…”
“Oh a family moving, that’s suspicious now?”Shane cut in, yellow words typing themself across the screen.
“Well, it was right before World War 1, I mean the timing is kind of suspicious.” Ryan replied in blue.
-People move, Ryan.-
-Okay, okay, it’s just the facts of the case,.-
Danny rolled his eyes, ready for the story to continue.
The images came back.
“This move would evidently prove to be quite fortunate for the family for obvious reasons. However, it also led Charles to find his true passion: … Watchmaking.”
There was a pause as a map of Switzerland came on screen. “Biel, the town that Charles would live in for the majority of his recorded younger life, was known for watchmaking, being one of several in the heart of an area named ‘Watch Valley.’ “
-You ever own a Swiss watch?-
-Nope-
-Heard they’re good. Reeeal good.-
-Yep.-
-…-
“Charles would reportedly develop a passion for clocks, watches, and timepieces in general, only getting more entrenched in his obsession over time.”
The image of the man now shifted to be overlaid on a map.
“By the time the First World War was over, Charles had gained an ostentatious apprenticeship under one of the premiere watchmakers of the time, Max Stührling. This lasted until Stührling’s death in 1938, after which Charles vanished from any records for two years.”
-Well y’know, his mentor had just died. -Maybe he wanted to grieve. Y’know curl up in his room and not see anybody for a bit.-
Ryan laughed, -2 years, he was crying in his room for 2 years and nobody found him?-
-Well, it’s not like records were great back then, I mean what are you gonna write on the census… just.. like..-
-Loud weeping heard from inside. One resident. Unnamed.-
-Yeah!-
“The next time Charles T. Williamsworth appears on record, it is in the back of a photo from France in 1940. Showing Williamsworth standing in front of a watch shop wearing dark clothes, a distinct pocket watch, and looking into the camera.”
The black and white image appears on screen, zooming in on the background figure. Danny tilts his head at it, something about it niggling at him.
“The shop and its owner would go on to be infamous within the French town for the duration of the Second World War. Charles was unwillingly drafted in the summer of 1941, serving on the front lines for no more than 3 months before sustaining a wound to his face, leaving him with damaged eyesight, facial scarring, and a medical discharge.
He returned to his shop soon after.”
Danny frowned at the mention of what the man had probably gone through.
“Later evidence statements regarding Charles stated that he was: ‘an odd man. He never mentioned the war, leaving it behind once he was not forced to be a part of it. He seemed to be separate from it all, he only cared for his watches.’
This sense of separation would extend to his shop, as when the town was bombed in 1944 leading up to D-day, his shop was left miraculously unharmed. It was reportedly open the very next day.”
-I can appreciate the dedication- Shane says in yellow.
-Yeah, I mean, the morning after is a bit soon, but he did really love watches. If he didn’t have to, I guess he wasn’t gonna close his shop.-
-His advertising: ‘Sure you were almost killed in a fiery explosion, but look! I’ve got new watches!’ Jazz hands.-
Ryan laughs.
“Over the next 50 years, Charles T. Williamsworth would disappear from records repeatedly, sometimes for months, only present on seven censuses between 1952 and 1979. Despite this, the clock shop was never sold, remaining in wait for its master’s return.”
Multiple pictures of pocket watches came onscreen. “It became known in the surrounding area for especially good pocket watches and grandfather clocks. Each personally made using Swiss essemblage practices, often engraved.
While it was a place of prestige, some described the shop as having ‘an unbearably loud sound of ticking, as if a thousand clocks were set to the same second.’
Apparently, Charles ‘seemed to enjoy the sound, often standing in the front room when no one was present. He was able to pick out one clock if it was off time.’ Witnesses stated.”
It cut to showing Shane and Ryan at their table.
“God, I can’t imagine. That’d drive me crazy.” Shane said, shaking his head.
“Yeah, I don’t know, a thousand clocks at the same time? Just..” Ryan looked back and forth frantically, as if there were sounds from every direction, “I’d go nuts pretty fast, I can’t even handle one sometimes.”
“I’d just go off and punch one of the clocks, just- RAAAH and -oh my god is that where that comes from?! I’m gonna punch your clock? Or like you clock somebody!?! Oh my god I never realized that!”
Danny’s jaw drops at the realization as Ryan laughs. Shane looks to be losing his mind as well.
“However, Charles’ most notable disappearance was his last.”
Dramatic music played as Danny zoned back in.
“Due to his frequency of vanishing for extended periods of time, it is unknown when exactly Charles disappeared. The last definite sighting of Charles T. Williamsworth was late at night on April 23rd, 1999, when neighborhood patrolman, Elliot Dubois, noticed him locking the door to his shop with its lights still on. Elliot, concerned for the safety of the elderly man, questioned him but eventually allowed Charles to leave, noting that he turned down a road that only led into the woods outside of town.
Two weeks later, 12 year old James Chappellè, a mailboy in the area, noted during his morning run on May 7 that mail had begun to pile up in front of the shop’s door.
Something that had never happened before.”
The word ‘before’ faded into red.
“It reached such a point that the mail system declared they would no longer deliver, as they couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t be stolen.
At this point, the police got involved and the case was assigned to Detective Jacob Laurent.
It turned out to be a more difficult case than first expected, as when they looked into Charles’ past, they were unable to turn up any such notable documents as a birth certificate nor any document containing a birthdate.
But when police entered the shop on May 10th, they found it largely empty, with only the shelves, register, and equipment left remaining between the front and back room. There were no clocks of any kind.
It should be noted that there was still money in the register, and a light on in the back though the other bulbs for the front seemed to have been burnt out.
Upon entering the living space above the shop, it was found to be covered in dust, and all of Charles’ clothes and belongings still present.
Rather, there was evidence that Charles largely slept in his shop, with a cot beside his workbench.
A workbench that, upon police entry, only held one gold pocketwatch, personally engraved with the initials ‘C. W.’ As it was known for Charles to always carry the pocketwatch, he was officially declared missing and possibly presumed dead.
The watch’s presence also led detective Laurent to suspect foul play.
Despite the declaration of foul play, the police did not extensively search the town woods, citing the size and density of the forest.”
The video cut to Shane staring at Ryan, face deadpan. Ryan was clearly trying to hold back laughs.
“So… let me get this straight… an old man who’s… how old at this point exactly?”
Ryan laughs, “Nobody knows, there’s no known birthday-“
“That’s weird too, but okay, let’s say he’s like what, at least 95? I mean… there’s a certain age that like if you disappear… ..eh.” Shane shrugged.
Ryan looked at him incredulously, “Eh??”
“Yeah,” Shane shrugged again, “Eh.”
“What???”
“I mean… y’know… old people wander into the woods sometimes, maybe he just went for a walk and got lost. At that age… death has gotta be around every corner, I mean come on!”
Ryan wheezed into his elbow.
Danny laughed quietly.
Once Ryan calmed down, he organized the file, clipping it down on the table, “So! With the story finished, let’s get into the theories,”
Shane rolled his eyes, “Oh god this is gonna be one of yours isn’t it? What ghosts are abducting people now?”
Danny smiled, briefly considering how much effort it would take to go haunt Shane all the way in LA.
“The first theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth was involved with the mafia at the time and was a long standing or high ranking member that had crossed the wrong people.
Some reasons for this theory is the lack of early documents, suggesting a fake identity or forgery.
This case is especially supported by the long absences, where his shop remained closed and yet still remained in his possession.
In fact, the deed for the shop was not listed under Charles’ name, instead Iisted as owned under a private organization.
This theory explains his disappearance and possible subsequent death as an act of revenge from an enemy made from illicit activities. Leaving no body behind, there would be no evidence to prosecute the acting party.
Within this, there are also some who believe that if Charles was engaged in the mafia and lived under a false identity, that his disappearance was him returning to his actual identity, possibly due to being caught.
Prison records indicate 6 Swiss-German inmates arrested at the approximate time of his disappearance, roughly matching the age and appearance of Charles. Notably, none of them had a distinct facial scar and no identification was ever confirmed.”
The screen switched.
Shane smiled at Ryan, “Oh Ho Ho, my boy Charles is getting into some funky stuff, huh? Workin’ for the Mob, breaking knees, chopping fingers?”
Ryan laughed, “Yeah maybe, it definitely lends credit to him being a part of something. Maybe he was out in the woods breaking knees y’know. Or burying something.”
“Someone,…”Shane said ominously, then burst out laughing, “What if he buried himself! Just-“Shane mimed digging, clapping his hands like he was wiping off dust, “Alright, thats a good illegal grave right there, just a good hole for a dead- woaaah!” He pretended to fall, “Boom, stuck in his own grave.”
“Really, this old man dug a 6 foot deep grave? On his own?”
“Hey you don’t know his strength, maybe he lifts.”
“Alright.” Ryan shook his head, still grinning.
Danny smiled, considering it, it did kind of make sense.
“The second theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth did indeed just walk into the woods and never come out. If this is the case, what happened in the woods is widely speculated on. Some saying that animals may have attacked him, or that he simply fell or was injured and could not get up due to his age.
This theory loses support due to the fact that no body was ever found. Though some say that if the woods were too big for the police to search, there may be a den or that his body was covered naturally.”
“Or in a grave.”
“You really think he was mafia?”
“I mean, who could tell?” Shane shrugged.
“The third theory, much like the first, is that Charles was a federal agent for one of the Allied Powers.
This theory is also supported by the significant periods of absence and lack of documents to indicate a forged identity, meant to fool the German government and allow him to work behind the lines. However, unlike the first, there is also evidence of a man with the same distinct scar on his eye, showing up in the background of photos at the British Intelligence Office, the Eiffel Tower during Germany’s occupancy, and behind closed Swiss borders.
None of which would be possible without the unique skills and permissions of a government agent.”
Silence reigned as Shane and Ryan stared each other down, Shane clearly ramping up for something.
“The name’s Williamsworth. Charles Williamsworth.” He said dramatically.
Ryan burst out laughing. “You support this one more then?”
“Yeah, I’ve changed my mind, he’s not in the mafia. His suspicious activities were in the name of secrecy, national secrets, confidential war trades. Espionage…”
“Well I guess, nobody’s gonna suspect the 95 year old man to be up to anything. I mean, if I saw an old man somewhere I’d just be like, huh I wonder who lost their grandpa, not ‘I bet he’s secretly working to take down Hitler.’ Y’know.”
“Charles gets caught: just ‘Whaa-at me~e? I’m just a gentle~e o~ ol~ld ma~an, I can’t harm nobody~y.” Shane mimed leaning over a cane.
“He gets caught and just pretends he has dementia, ‘Who am I? Who are you? Why am I here? Where’s my breakfast?”
Shane cackled as Ryan laughed.
Danny considered it more, this one seemed the most likely, though… he’d definitely be the oldest agent.
“Another theory is that the shop was robbed and Charles returned while or before it was happening, catching the criminals off guard and leading them to react rashly, injuring or killing Charles. They then would have hidden his body and cleaned out the shop to hide any other evidence.
This theory however is disproven by the lack of money taken from the register.
Despite this, it is the official claimed circumstance by the police at the time.”
“Fucking police, always with the boring one.” Shane said ruefully.
“Our last theory, and my personal favorite,-“
Shane groaned. Danny smiled, this was gonna be good.
“-is that Charles T Williamsworth was a time traveler. And that all of his disappearances were when he was traveling through time.
This theory supports his families early move to Switzerland under odd timing, his appearance in so many photos and even his obsession with clocks. As well as why he seemed unbothered by the tumultuous times.”
“I can… accept it.” Shane said, hesitant.
Ryan laughed, “I’ll take it.”
“Despite all of these theories, there is still significant information missing from the case.
And so, like clockwork this case shall remain:
Unsolved.”
Danny’s mouth dropped as the screen went dark.
No way.
No freaking way.
He lurched upwards, eyes wide.
Obsessed with clocks, scar on his eye, fricking weird and talks in riddles.
Oh mygod!
Danny threw himself out of bed, “I’ve connected the dots!” He rushed to untangle himself from his sheets, transforming immediately, “I’ve connected them!”
He dove for the ghost portal.
Holy frick!
Charles T. Williamsworth was Clockwork!
#dp#danny phantom#danny fenton#dc#danny phantom crossover#buzzfeed unsolved#shane madej#ryan bergara#clockwork#clockwork dp#Jazz Fenton#Tucker foley#cryptid ghosts#ghosts#cryptid danny fenton#except it’s clockwork
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dandelion tea — ranpo
⋆ [ . . . drabble, gn!reader, lowercase intended, fluff . . . ]
dandelion tea is bitter. ranpo hates bitter. he does have the worlds largest sweet tooth, after all. but that doesn't stop the plethora of comments he gets on a daily basis telling him how nice he smells. earthy and natural, like dandelion tea.
8:30 PM. everyday since you started living together, you always came home at 8:30. and everyday since you started living together, ranpo would wait for you, sitting on the couch, two cups sitting in front of him on the coffee table by 8:30. one filled with hot chocolate and one with dandelion tea.
you'd place a soft kiss on ranpo's head as you walked past behind him on the couch before sitting down next to him picking up your cup, taking a sip and talking about your day. ranpo always listened. he'd drink his hot chocolate, nodding along and making small comments until you were done. then he'd scoot over, closer to you, and kiss you. there was always a hint of dandelion tea still lingering on your lips, but he didn't mind. because although ranpo hates dandelion tea, he loves you.
4.21.24 ⋆ i need requests guys, my mind is blank
#ੈ✩‧₊˚ junis drabbles#bungou stray dogs#bsd#bsd x gender neutral reader#bsd x male reader#bsd x reader#x reader#bsd drabbles#ranpo edogawa#bsd ranpo#bungou stray dogs ranpo#ranpo x reader#ranpo x male reader
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Daylight
~Daylight by Taylor Swift~
Author's Note: requested! I love Nathan Mackinnon Summary: erm friends to strangers to friends again to lovers? Warnings: swearing maybe? Word Count: 5,431 Nathan Mackinnon x fm!reader
It was a huge life decision that she was convinced was going to fail miserably. Moving to the States felt like an awful decision but she was tired of staying in the same place she has lived in her whole life.
Her newly found ex-boyfriend also had lived there his entire life and it showed. There was never any desire to grow or change. There was no way she wanted to stay in Nova Scotia her whole life. Despite it being one of the most gorgeous places in the world, there was plenty gorgeous places in the States too.
She sent her resume to probably a hundred different places and Denver ended up being the best option. They offered the most travel money and salary. It seemed perfect. Her apartment was only two blocks away from her job and on nice days she was more than willing to walk.
Today, it was April and her apartment was covered in boxes. The movers were able to bring everything into the apartment but after that there was nothing they could do. She was making good money, great money. Some of the best money she’s ever made in her entire life so she might’ve went a little big on the apartment; and a little big on the furniture.
Instead of happily unpacking, she found herself sobbing on the floor after she pulled out a framed photo of herself with her ex. It was something she either accidentally packed our the movers did. She was not sure.
They had been together since they were seventeen and they broke up a decade later. It was a lot of her life that she sometimes wished she could get back. There was times she wished she ended it sooner. Because who waits a decade to even bring up marriage.
She got out and that’s all that matters.
Wiping the tears from her face she stood up from the floor and stumbled towards her bathroom, the only room that was semi-unpacked. She decided to shower and get a freshstart on the day. Even though it was well into the afternoon.
After another hour she decided to head down to the coffee shop that was only two buildings over. They were nearly a twenty-four hour place, which is just the coffee shop she needs.
It was starting to get dark as it was close to six at night, but the sun was setting over the mountains, casting a pink and purple hue to the sky. The sidewalks were suprisingly busy with tourists. It was evident by the way they were taking pictures and speeding down the sidewalks towards their next destination.
She smiled towards herself as she stepped inside the coffee shop and it wasn’t crowded. Maybe people didn’t have as big of a caffeine addiction like she did. She walked behind the small line towards the counter, three blonde men stood in front of her and she kept her distance.
She was tuning out their voices as she was listening to the Taylor Swift song playing in the background. After the last one ordered, the three of them erupted into laughter.
“New contract, Caler, thanks for the coffee,” one of them said as they smacked their hand against his upper back. They all barked out a laugh before the first two wandered towards a table near the center of the shop.
The man in front of her, Caler apparently, paid for the coffees before he followed his friends.
The barista smiled towards her, looking somewhat exhausted. She felt a little guilty now that she was there. “Can I get an iced lavender latte to go?” Y/N asked her. She nodded immediately grabbing the largest size clear cup and started writing on it.
“Shut up man,” she heard one of them say from the corner but she chose to try her best to ignore it. She handed her card over to the barista and quickly paid for it, keeping her gaze towards her. “Nate don’t be weird,” she heard again.
She took her card back and subconsciously glanced towards the three of them. She stopped short, holding her card in the air while she met one of their gazes. A man she hasn’t seen in eleven years.
Well, she’s seen him but not like this. Not face to face or in public. He was much older and had a different smile but it was Nathan.
She thought Denver was too big to run into him, especially since he was dominating the NHL at the moment.
“Y/N,” he let out barely above a whisper as he crossed around the table, moving quickly towards her. Her eyes widened as she slowly put her card back into her wallet.
“Nathan,” she let out with a soft grin.
“What are you doing in Denver?” he let out excitedly, his hands were interlocked; almost as if he was trying to decide if he should hug her. She slipped her wallet back into her hoodie pocket as she stepped away from the counter.
Glancing towards the other two boys whom she assumed were his teammates. She was a Canadiens fan since that’s who her parents root for. But she was never obsessed with the sport. Based off of the decor in the coffee shop, she could see from behind Nathan’s head that she should know who they are.
Swallowing hard, “I just moved here for a job,” she explained. His eyes widened as he smiled.
“Where’s Carter?” Nathan asked while whipping his head around to see the two guys staring towards him. He waved his hand at them hoping they would stop.
Her mouth fell open while she took in a sharp breath, “We broke up a few months ago,” she let out.
He pulled his head back while nodding; crossing his arms over his chest. “That sucks, I’m sorry. You guys were together for a long time,”
She chuckled while tilting her head to the side, “Too long, but it’s all good. Needed a fresh start,” she explained while brushing a piece of hair away from her face. He nodded before pressing his lips together.
“Denver’s a great place for that,” he mumbled.
The barista called out Cale’s name and the two other guys jumped up from their seats to go grab their drinks. They were all hot coffee in to go cups.
“It is,” she mumbled as she continued to look into his eyes, “H-how’s the season going? You know I don’t really pay much attention-”
“Still a Habs fan?” Nathan asked as Cale handed him his drink. She smiled and nodded. “Well, we’re heading to the playoffs in a week so we’ll see.”
“Better than the Habs,” she muttered jokingly. He chuckled as he continued to look into her eyes. “That’s great, I hope it works out for you guys,”
“Tha-thanks,” he mumbled.
“Nate, we gotta head out,” the other guy said walking up behind them, “Got to get to the arena. Why don’t you get her number and call her after our meeting?” he teased as he pushed past them. Nathan chuckled as watched them walk away before he met her gaze again.
“That’s Gabe, doesn’t know how to switch off being captain,” he explained. She smiled as she looked into his light eyes again, something in them made her heart flutter. He looks so good.
“I see,” she mumbled as she saw the barista hold out her drink towards her, “Thank you,” she said as she gladly took the drink. Nathan took in a sharp breath as he pulled his phone from his pocket.
“My number’s changed a few times since secondary school,” he explained as he held out an empty contact in his phone. She took a hold of it and added herself to his phone. “Just in case you need some friends in the city, I’ve got a few to spare,” he continued meeting her eye.
“Thanks Nathan, I guess I’ll see you,” she muttered. He nodded before he walked out of the coffee shop. She watched him leave and felt herself overthinking the conversation. Did that really just happen?
“I’m so sorry but how do you know Nathan Mackinnon?” the barista said as she leaned over the counter. Y/N pulled herself out of the small trance she was in and looked towards the dark brown haired girl beside her.
“We grew up together back in Canada. I haven’t seen him since we were sixteen,” Y/N explained, shocked to say the least. The barista smiled widely.
“Wow, that’s like-so cool,” she said while shaking her head. She turned around and immediately started cleaning something.
Y/N nodded with a hum falling from her lips, she continued to walk out of the coffee shop to head towards her apartment again.
~~~
It had been a few days since she ran into Nathan and they had been texting constantly since Nathan was incredibly busy with the end of the season coming up and their first round in the playoffs against the Predators.
Her apartment was slowly starting to come together. Majority of her furniture arrived and she convinced the movers to place it exactly where she needed it to be. Even after a handful of “wait can you actually put it on that side, thank you.” She hated being that person but she didn’t have anyone to help her move them.
The thought of asking Nathan to help crossed her mind but it was such a difficult and essential time in his life. They were in Minnesota for the last game of the season and even in the text messages it was obvious that he was nervous. But he was Nathan Mackinnon and he was not supposed to be nervous.
For the first time by herself, she decided to sit down and watch a hockey game. Her former boyfriend was a huge hockey fan, specifically the Pittsburg Penguins. Because he was such a nice guy he had the multi-broadcast so she could watch the Habs play as well. Whenever they were playing at the same time.
She sat at the center of her new couch and draped a light pink blanket over her lap and she turned on the local Altitude broadcast. She put on her Lehkonen jersey that her father gave her after she said she was moving to Denver.
He told her that if his two favorite people were moving to Denver at least she should have his favorite player’s jersey. He was joking mostly, but her mother didn’t find it that funny. But she promised that she would wear it every time she watched a game or went to one. Especially since her dad actually was close to heartbroken when he was traded.
The game started and she saw Nathan take the draw. She found herself smiling. She was also excited to watch the game again. She hasn’t been excited to watch the game since she was a kid. The joy of watching it with her dad and bonding with him over it was everything. Except Carter took that away from her. The game was ruined for her because of the rage he would get every time they made a bad play or lost the game.
But she was alone, a glass of rosè in her hand and her dad’s favorite player on her jersey. The apartment was nearly pitch black and the only light was the TV screen.
The game ended with a difficult loss but she was happy to actually have enjoyed the game.
All she knew was that the next set of games were going to be hard and she was excited to watch and excited to talk to Nathan about it. The more she thought about him over the last few months, the more she realized how close they used to be.
There was a time in her life where Nathan was always around and they were inseparable. Until he joined Halifax and he became a future star. It wasn’t intentional with how he left, he tried to reach out and be there but his life was going warp speed and hers was slowly moving on.
She never forgot about him and he clearly hasn’t forgotten about her. She took in a deep breath before she stood up from the couch. Placing her empty glass onto the coffee table before she folded the blanket and draped it over the top of the couch.
Her father started to video call her and she pulled her head back for a moment. Never someone to call this late, let alone call her ever. She answered it and held it ahead of her waiting for him to show up on the screen. He smiled widely as he saw the Habs jersey on her body.
“Were you watching hockey?” he asked. She nodded as her lips curled upward into a small grin.
“I ran into someone,” she muttered. Her dad’s eyes squinted while he furrowed his eyebrows. “Nathan,” she let out simply. He tilted his head to the side for a second before his mouth fell open.
“Our Nate?” he let out. She wasn’t sure if he meant Nova Scotia’s or their little social circle.
“Yeah, literally two days after I got here. How crazy is that,” she expressed.
“Man, you guys haven’t talks since he joined the Mooseheads, wow,” he let out. Something felt off with his tone, nearly sarcastic.
“Why are you talking like that?”
“I’m not talking like anything,” he said, pouting his bottom lip slightly.
“Dad,” she nearly scolded.
He took a long dramatic inhale before shutting his eyes, “Nate told his mom about running into you and then she called your mother and we’ve been waiting for you to bring it up to talk about it,” he opened his eyes and glanced away from his phone, most likely her mother.
“I forget how tiny that town is sometimes,” she muttered before she ran her hand across her eyes.
“Are you guys talking?” her mother shouted, it sounded faint through the phone.
“We’ve been texting but he’s busy-you know- being a professional athlete.” she explained while laughing nervously.
~~~
The series against the Predators ended with a sweep for them which led to a long break until the next one for the Avalanche. Which led to Nathan coming over to help finish decorating her apartment. Aka, she went on a late night shopping spree while wine drunk and now her living room is full of boxes once again.
The doorbell rang and she felt her body jolt. She walked towards the door, taking in a deep breath. She pulled the door open and Nathan was standing there holding a bottle of wine. He smiled widely once he met her gaze.
“Hey,” he mumbled. She smiled as she stepped aside letting him into her apartment.
“Hey, you didn’t have to bring anything,” she expressed, referencing the very expensive bottle. He glanced down, smirking.
“It’s actually not meant to be drunk tonight,” he let out. Meeting her eye, she nodded as she watched him delicately place it down onto the counter. Squinting her eyes suspiciously as she pursed her lips forward. He pressed his lips together as he continued to look into her eye.
“I know it was a long time ago but I’ve been doing some thinking. The last time we hung out before I started playing for Halifax we talked about what would happen when I joined the NHL. Do you remember?” he asked, a smile toying to his lips. She shook her head as she leaned against the counter. “We talked about what would happen if I get a chance to win the Cup.”
She nodded, “Oh yeah,” she said with a smile.
“We talked about if I win, we’d drink a $500 bottle of wine and celebrate just you and me,” he expressed. She glanced down towards the wine before flickering her eye back towards him. Furrowing her eyebrows slightly, she tilted her head to the side.
“Every playoff run I’ve thought about that conversation. Even though you were back in Nova Scotia, I still thought about it,” he explained as he tapped his fingers against the countertop. “This was the first season I bought a bottle. I bought it two days before we ran into one another at the coffee shop,”
“Wait, so you bought it before you knew I moved here?” she mumbled.
“If we won the Cup, you were going to be one of the first people I called,” he explained as he smirked towards her. She nodded as she took in sharp breath, “Anyway, let’s get to decorating.” he said switching the subject quickly. She pursed her lips forward as she delicately took a hold of the bottle. Slowly, she delicately ran her thumb across the label, hoping she would get a chance to open it with him.
“I’m looking forward to opening it,” she let out nonchalantly as she put the wine bottle onto a different more secluded counter.
He chuckled nervously as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Gotta win the Cup first,” he mumbled.
“You will, Nathan,” she said with a wide smile. He smirked as he stumbled backwards towards her living room. “I honestly don’t remember what I bought, so this should be fun,” she sat down in front of one of the boxes as he followed in pursuit. Without hesitation, he ripped open the box. He pulled out a picture frame an empty picture frame.
“An empty frame?” he let out while chuckling. She rolled her eyes playfully as she attempted to rip open the box in front of her.
“I told you I was wine drunk,” she defended as she finally ripped open the box. She let out a sudden laugh as the blanket she purchased came into full view. It was a red and white Habs blanket. She pulled it out and held it towards Nathan. His mouth fell open as he giggled.
“You’re going to have to put that away when I come over,” he said while shaking his head.
“Oh, just wait,” she teased while raising her eyebrows. She stood up from the ground and quickly sped walk down the hallway towards her bedroom. After a minute she returned to her living room holding up her Habs jersey against her chest. Nathan looked up towards her giggled.
“Who is it?” he asked while moving his head back and forth trying to see the number on the side. Spinning it around, she showed the Lehkonen on the back. He clapped his hands together while tilting his head back.
“Now you’re just rubbing it in my face!” he let out while laughing.
“At least he plays on your team now,” she said as she sat down on the floor again, delicately placing the jersey on the couch directly behind her.
“Fucking great guy,” he let out while raising his eyebrows.
The rest of the evening was filled with giggling and showing off the ridiculous decor she bought. It nearly reminded her of how they were when they were teenagers. It was as if there wasn’t a decade between the last time they hung out like this.
It’s been years since the last time she felt so giddy. It was almost impossible to let him leave. They hovered at her door for several minutes before he slipped out of the apartment. Hovering for a long time, lot of intense eye contact. Subtle smirks and lack of distance.
~~~
Tonight was a roller coaster of emotions. It was game five against the St. Louis Blues and Nathan had a hat trick and an assist. It should’ve been more than enough to push the Avs to the third round. Except the Blues tied it late and won it in overtime.
She watched the game from her couch, despite Nathan telling her she could hang out with the WAGs. She declined because it felt weird to her since she wasn’t a part of the club. She had her Habs blanket wrapped around her shoulders, squeezed tightly to her chest just beneath her chin.
Her gaze shifted towards the bottle on the counter a few feet away. Knowing that they will get to open that bottle this season. The post-game show was playing in the background but she was only half listening as she was scrolling through her Twitter feed. Most of it was about anything but hockey, it was a decent distraction.
Her eyes widened as her phone started to vibrate in her hands, Nathan was calling her. Her lips curled upward as she saw his name, she knew he wasn’t going to be in a great mood but she answered it anyway.
“Hey,” she mumbled.
“Hey, can I see you?” he asked, his voice was grogging and raspy. It was sudden but she hummed unsure of how to reply, she couldn’t tell how he was truly feeling. “Okay, I’ll be over in like ten,” he said before he ended the call. She pulled the phone away from her ear, staring towards it for a moment before she delicately placed it beside her.
She took a hold of the TV remote and put on New Girl to have in the background. She kept snuggling the blanket in the pitch black apartment, the TV being the only bit of light.
Her phone buzzed beside her and she glanced down to see a text from her dad. She smiled as she lifted her phone to read the message: Give Nate a hug for us, he’s got the next one.
She replied quickly before she turned off her phone and wandered towards her kitchen. She reached into the freezer and pulled out a small pint of ice cream. Quickly, she took a hold of a spoon and began to eat some of the ice cream before Nathan arrived. He was very determined on sticking his diet so he would not be phased by it even if she was eating it in front of him.
After a few minutes, there was several knocks on the door and she set the pint down onto the counter. She walked towards the door and pulled it open. Nathan stood in the doorway, he looked exhausted. His lips fell into a small pout as he looked into her eyes. She reached her hands around his neck and pulled him into a tight embrace.
He loosely wrapped his arms around her waist as he slowly stepped inside gliding her inside. The door shut behind them as he continued to hold her to his chest.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she whispered as she started running her fingers through the ends of his hair for a moment. He pulled away looking into her eyes, as if for the first time.
“I’m just glad you moved here,” he let out as he continued to look into her eye. She furrowed her eyebrows, confusion written all over her features. His lips curled up into a small grin, “It was a tough night but next game we’ll win,” he let out.
“That’s it?” she asked suspiciously.
“We lost, did it suck, absolutely, but there’s next game and we’re winning it. Simple,” he explained before he slowly slipped away from her grasp towards the couch.
“You used to go silent after games you lost. There was a time you didn’t talk for nearly two days after you lost a regular season game back before the Mooseheads,” she expressed as she quickly reached for her ice cream and walked towards the couch again. He let out a dry laugh before he rubbed his nose.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Y/N, I’ve grown,” he said sarcastically while he took a hold of the Habs blanket and draped it over his lap, “You’re lucky Drouin’s over there,” he muttered as he held it open for her to sit beside him. Delicately, he laid it over her lap.
Every times the Hab’s were even slightly brought up, he had to have a dig towards the fact that she was a fan, always hinting that she should convert to an Avs fan. Even left her a gift of Lehkonen’s Avs jersey on her doorstep. Said that Lehky’s gonna be sticking around, so you better get an updated jersey.
“It’s good to see you… like that,” she expressed, finding it difficult to get the right words out.
“I would do the silent thing for a long time in the league. I would just get so mad that it was easier to stay quiet than talk,” he said as he held his hand out towards her. She stared towards him mildly concerned. He stole the spoon from her hand and took barely any ice cream and brought it towards his mouth.
“Did you just-”
“Yup,” he teased before he dropped the spoon back into the pint. She chuckled as she took a much bigger spoonful and brought it towards her own lips. “I’ve gotten a lot better and letting things go,” he continued. He took in a sharp breath, “Letting go most things,” he let out as he met her gaze for only a second before looked back towards the screen.
Swallowing hard, she stared towards his side profile. She was always fond of his nose, despite how crooked it looked since his teenage years, he was elegant. “What haven’t you let go?” she poked.
Looking back towards her, meeting her eye he fought the words he wanted to say. “It’s stupid,” he dropped his gaze towards his lap.
“Say it,” she pressed as she leaned forward, placing the ice cream onto the coffee table.
“The night we talked about the Cup and the wine bottle or whatever back then, I remember that was the moment I realized I liked you,” he expressed, “I didn’t really realize it fully but that night I felt something for you I never felt before and then we never hung out again. Which was my bad so I-I guess that I never let go of the fact of what would have happen if I told you, I guess,”
She smiled softly, staring down towards her lap. “What do you think would’ve happened?” she asked, sliding towards him slightly. He tilted his head back against the top of the couch.
“Honestly, we probably would’ve gotten together and I probably would’ve ruined it,” he ran his fingers through his hair, awkwardly.
“Why would you say that?” she pressed further turning her body towards him, leaning her head against the top of the couch. He turned his head, meeting her eye.
“Same reason why I stopped reaching out, being away from you would’ve been too hard,” he expressed. She nodded as she continued looking into his eye.
~~~
She was on the couch watching Nathan raise the Cup. He was crying tears of joy with the horrendous scraggly beard on his face. The Stanley Cup champion hat on his head, he had achieved his childhood dream. The summer of celebrations was about to happen. She wiped her hands across her cheeks, clearing the tears from her skin before she stood up.
She took a hold of the wine bottle and placed it into the fridge because who likes warm wine?
A smile formed to her lips as the Avalanche jersey on her frame was something she never thought she would wear. Especially with how serious her dad was about the Habs. But she knew that he was rooting for Nathan and so was she.
She sat back on the couch and laid down as she watched the remainder of the broadcast, Nathan’s interview, and the team photo. An audible laugh fell from her lips after she watched Nicolas Aubė-Kubel drop the Cup. Everyone’s face was ridiculous.
She reached for her phone to see a text from Nathan: I can’t wait to be in Denver to celebrate with you.
The following morning she awoke to several missed called from Nathan almost as if he spent most of the night trying to get a hold of her. She rolled her eyes playfully as she began to call him back as she stumbled towards her kitchen and her coffee maker.
It took a handful of rings before he answered.
“Hey,” his voice was nearly gone, so hoarse it was barely audible.
“Hey champion,” she teased.
“Still does not feel real,” he let out.
“Denver was crazy last night, they’re excited for you guys to bring it home,” she explained. He chuckled.
“Can’t wait to see you,” he let out, “-And that wine bottle because it fucking happened and we are fucking celebrating,”
It was that same night and she has spent most of the day simply waiting for Nathan. Ever since game five against the Blues, they started flirting more and the tension between them was getting more and more intense.
It was hard to decipher exactly what was the tension from, lust or longing. It was impossible but tonight was the night she was going to try and dissect it and figure it out. She ran her fingers through her recently styled hair and stared into her reflection, trying to decide if she was happy with the way she looked.
It didn’t matter as Nathan rang her doorbell three times. She leaped out of the bathroom and jogged down towards her front door. She pulled it open and smiled towards him. Without hesitation he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. A giggle fell from her lips as slowly glided her inside of the apartment.
“It was better than I ever could’ve imagined,” he mumbled against her hair. “Wish you were there to experience it,”
She slowly pulled away, meeting his gaze as she rested her hands on the base of his neck, “I’ll be there for the next one,” she let out. He smirked as his gaze flickered towards her lips for much longer than he would like to admit.
“Yeah?” he let out. She nodded, keeping his gaze towards her lips. “Where’s that bottle?” he said slowly slipping away from her grasp. Perhaps in the need of some liquid courage.
She pointed towards the fridge and he immediately pulled it open to look towards the bottle that’s been on his mind for over a decade. He pulled it out and delicately rested it onto the counter. She had already placed two glasses onto the counter as he was fetching the bottle.
He popped it open, a grin wide on his lips. They giggled as he happily poured two large glasses of wine. He placed it back down as he slid the glass towards her. He brought it towards his lips at the same time as she did and they both took a long sip. It was probably the fanciest wine she’s ever had. He shut his eyes content as he took in a long breath.
It had been several hours later and safe to say they were giggling and incredibly wine drunk. They were laid across her bed, nearly a bottle and a half shared between them, both of them were quite the lightweight.
“No-no cause look I’ve got a bruise from that hug-alright!” he let out while laughing, he tossed his body to the side to try and find the bruise from the impact, he was unsuccessful, it just ended in more fits of laughter.
They slipped in and out of different conversations as they were sprailedd out on her bed, distant at times and really close at others. In this moment it was one of those times where they were incredibly close. Their nose bumping at times from how close they were.
“When I moved here, I genuinely didn’t think I would see you,” she expressed. He hummed as he kept his gaze on her lips, his bright red cheeks were not hiding the fact of how intoxicated he was. Her rambling words were a sign of hers. “Like it didn’t even cross my mind that you lived here because it had been so long but I’m so glad I ran into you,”
“Me too,” he let out.
He reached over towards her and took a hold of her chin as he leaned towards her kissing her delicately. It wasn’t urgent but so delicate that it was almost a confession of love in the process.
He pulled away, keeping a small distance between their lips. A smile formed to her lips before she leaned towards him, kissing him again. She slowly rolled onto her back allowing him to climb on top of her.
#nathan mackinnon x reader#nathan mackinnon imagines#nathan mackinnon#nate mackinnon imagines#nate mackinnon x reader#nate mackinnon#nhl imagines#nhl#nhl x reader#nhl fic#hockey#colorado avalanche x reader#colorado avalanche imagines#cale makar x reader#cale makar fic#cale makar imagines#cale makar
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୨✧୧˚ ACTING DIFFERENT ˚୨✧୧
✧ resident evil masterlist
✧ tags: fluff, reassurance, hurt/comfort, leon kennedy x afab! escort!reader
✧ Summary: You’re an escort for Leon, and you’re pretty confident in your own abilities. Although, it’s pretty funny to see you two together, especially since he looks pretty brooding on an actual job. Despite that, some jealous interns make it their mission to put you down for the way you act with him, calling you selfish and the like. You shift, trying to be ‘better’ but Leon is determined to get the bottom of this.
✧ a/n : technically this is a part of my series ‘the escort protocol’ found here, however it is a standalone too.
————————————————————————
It would’ve been a normal day in the office, that is if you hadn't just walked straight past him whilst he drank the largest coffee cup known to man. He grumbles as you ignore him for the third time that day; he saw you glance at him and then the cup and then still decide to carry on. He lets out a l huff as he tosses the cup behind him into the bin before resting his head in his hands; the cup was empty, of course—he just wanted to see you react. That is the exact problem actually, because you haven't reacted to anything he’s done for a whole week now. The first day was already crossing the line, but he figured you were in a bad mood. Then the second day you continued and by the third he started questioning if this was a new symptom of your menstrual cycle. He felt a bit bad if it was (and also for blaming your mood swings on that) so he gave you a chocolate bar randomly. It was your turn to be confused that day because it turned out he just gave you chocolate for nothing and you were in fact not on your period.
All of this started last Friday. He hadn't been at the office on Thursday because quite literally he couldn't be bothered and would rather continue work at home— plus he was feeling a little more tired than usual. Of course you text him, asking if he was okay and offering to drop off food if he was sick, that was before you scolded him upon realising he had been slacking off. When he came in on Friday, he expected a huff of frustration before you made him buy you a coffee but there was nothing except an “Are you feeling better?” and then you were disappearing into your small box desk again. He raised an eyebrow but didn't think much until you walked past him downing a soda and barely said anything. The next day was the same, and then the next and the next until he was fed up. If there was a guiness world record for the most crap ingested in a day, he’d take the gold medal home. He had eaten a burger every lunchtime, had way too many cups of coffee each morning and even munched sweets instead of cereal and you still didn't say anything. The worst part was that you always just stopped, stared before eventually deciding to walk away again.
So today he tried for the last time before he finally gave up. He’s just going to have to ask you head on; there’s no way he’s letting you off the hook this time. He finds you in your usual spot at lunch, munching your sandwich on the park bench near the office. It’s quiet and no one really comes to the park here and whilst he’s never actually joined you before, he knows you come here often.
“Hey.”
You lift your head to meet his, suddenly caught off guard by his presence in the quiet park. “What are you doing here?”
“Y'know—just thought I'd ask if you wanna grab a drink with me?”
“What kind of drink?”
“Uhh… a slushie.”
You pause and then raise an eyebrow at him, confused. He’s sure he’s got you now; there's no way you can turn a blind eye to a slushie at break time. But you do. “Oh um, i’m okay, but if you want to-“
“What the hell is wrong with you?” You blink at him in confusion, shocked as he huffs loudly, breaking the tranquility of your spot, and stands right before you.
“Um, nothing?”
“It’s not nothing! You’ve barely commented on anything I've done all week. I drank soda for a week straight and you barely breathed wrong about it!”
“Shouldn’t you be happy about that? They all said that you would-“ This time he crosses his arms and stares you down and for a moment you’re actually kind of scared of him. You haven't seen him this annoyed since his superior in the DSO joked about blackmailing him with Sherry again.
“I’m sorry— who said what?”
“It’s not a big deal, I was just talking to some people..” But he’s already cutting you off and you know you can't escape the truth when he speaks again.
“If it's not a big deal, then you can tell me right? Go on.”
You let out a long sigh, attempting to make it seem like it's not that serious. His eyes are locked onto you and you have to avert your gaze to stop yourself messing up when you speak. “It was just a passing conversation between me and some interns last Thursday.” You shrug, taking a bite out of your sandwich as you look at the scenery, attempting to act nonchalant about it.
“And? That's not all, I know it isn't.” You groan and shift uncomfortably, letting out another huffed breath. “They just said I keep you in check a lot; I stop you from doing a lot of stuff.”
He’s not buying a second of it though and you don't even have to wait for him to urge you on to know he wants the full story.
“Fine, okay, they said that I was really bossy towards you and that I should let you do what you want.”
“What else? I know you wouldn’t care if a mere intern said that, so what's with the sudden change?” He rolls his eyes, sitting beside you on the bench as you groan and fiddle with the food wrapper in your hand. “They said I'm just an idiot who took the first job she could get and now I'm acting all high and mighty when I have the status of a mere assistant. Apparently you always look annoyed when I “scream at you” for doing anything i dont like and I'm also just an attention seeker or something. I left soon after..” The words are mumbled and he hates the way he can tell you’re ashamed of yourself when you avert your eyes like that and take the last bite of your sandwich.
“You’re such an idiot, yknow? Why on earth would you ever be bossy?” He scoffs, letting his arms settle in his side and he leans back into the bench. You dont reply, and he can't help but feel a gut full of worry for you. “You believe it, don't you?”
“I mean- it’s true a bit, is it not? You’re a higher status than me and I just.. decide what you can and can't do.”
“You do realise if i really had a problem with it, i just wouldn’t listen to you, right?”
“Yeah but- either way, surely I'm still annoying with my constant remarks.”
Your gaze shies away from him again and it causes a pang of guilt knowing you really did take some of their words to heart. He lets out a small sigh and shuffles up beside you, resting an arm on the back of the bench.
“Sometimes I forget that this is technically your first job out of university. You haven't done anything wrong in the slightest, alright? They’re just putting you down because they’re jealous. Just interns, that's all they are. But you’ve got authority and a position here. Hasn't every other staff here been nice to you and respectful? Hey, even the reception lady encouraged you to scold me the other day, didn't she?”
“..I mean yeah, she did and everyone else laughs about it too..” His hand slips down from the bench, patting your shoulder lightly before rubbing at it.
“Exactly, and you don't do it to annoy me do you?” He loves the way your lips curl into a frown at the accusation, horrified he would ever assume that.
“What? No, I only do it because you drink way too much coffee and you end up not sleeping well. Plus you always tend to eat fast food like every lunch, it’s not good for you.”
“So what's the harm done, hm? You’re not trying to be mean, I clearly don't mind it at all either. So stop beating yourself up about it.”
He gives you another quick squeeze as you mumble “okay”, and then finally retracts his arm, Though not before poking your forehead with his finger, intent on cheering you up. “I can't believe you’re actually three years younger than me. You’re so little, you know? I can’t believe you’ve only had one job your entire life.” The way you roll your eyes and stand up has him chuckling at your exasperated expression.
“I know what you’re going to do, don't even try ruffling my hair.”
“Would you prefer I carried you over my shoulder like a kid instead?” He wont forget the glare you gave him, crossing your arms at him and staring him down until he chuckles and stands himself.
“You know you’re not very intimidating, maybe you should try dressing up as a bioweapon— might even scare yourself. Anyway, cmon,” He remarks, picking up your work bag and slinging it on his shoulder before throwing your sandwich wrapper into the nearby bin.
“I think I have to go move some interns to a new state.” He smirks at you when he says it but deep down he’s dead serious; he won't let anyone put that ashamed expression on your face again.
Bonus:
“Hey, you know all those days i saw you eating that junk food, did you actually want to eat all of that?” You tilt your head up at him, almost about to scrunch your face up in disgust. He can't exactly blame you, after all, a burger for lunch every day isn’t appealing in the slightest.
“Well, the coffee was fake.”
“What about the food?”
“…” He’s already anticipating the punch you plant on his arm, huffing in annoyance.
“Leon!”
#leon kennedy x y/n#leon s kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy#leon s kennedy x you#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy fanfic#leon kennedy#leon kennedy fluff#resident evil fluff#resident evil x reader#resident evil fandom#resident evil fanfiction
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taking the boys to see barbie‼️‼️🔥😫💯🤩🫨🫶🏻
A/N: I just got home from seeing Oppenheimer so this is like, perfect timing. These are some general movie outing headcanons for the group!
Going To the Movies
THE DEMON BROTHERS & THE DATEABLES
0.8k words | SFW | gn!Reader
Content: Luke is mentioned in a platonic sense only, the other relationships can be read as platonic or romantic.
You suggest a matinee show time because you figure it'll be less disruptive and chaotic for everyone.
Levi and Satan are the only ones that bother to look up the movie beforehand.
Levi wanted to read the early critic reviews, but he's careful not to complain about how stupid the plot sounds because he knows you want to see it.
(If it's a pop culture franchise Akuzon sells, Levi will order a t-shirt or sweater to wear on the day of the movie outing.)
Satan looked up the film's plot/backstory because you've been eager to talk about it.
(He likes knowing more about your interests than Lucifer his brothers do.)
Diavolo caught wind of your plans somehow (probably from Lucifer) and managed to convince Barbatos that they could both use an afternoon off to have some fun in the human world too.
When you show up at the theatre, Solomon and the angels from Purgatory Hall are already waiting near the concession stand.
(Barbatos admits to you that he might've told Luke about the movie plans in passing.)
Ordering food at the snack bar is interesting.
Lucifer orders himself a drink but no snacks. He opts for wine if the theatre sells it, or coffee if they don't serve alcohol, and he finally settles on bottled sparkling water if nothing else is available.
Mammon orders a popcorn combo that comes with a bag of candy. He asks you very casually what kind you like best before he just happens to choose that for himself.
Levi orders the popcorn combo that comes with the plastic collectible cup, and he browses the small display of plushies and toys near the snack bar too.
Satan orders popcorn and a drink and reminds you that there's plenty if you want to share with him.
Asmo buys a bottle of vitamin water and says he doesn't want anything to eat.
(Later he'll sneak some popcorn or nachos and candy from whoever he sits beside.)
Beel just points to all the popcorn poppers behind the counter and says he'll buy all of it.
(He grabs bags of candy off the display and drops those on the counter too.)
Belphie clarifies to the poor staff working behind the counter that they'll take two large bags of popcorn with lots of butter—and two bags of candy each, and two of the largest soft drink size they have...
Barbatos heads to another part of the concession stand to look at their frozen yogurt flavours and toppings.
While Barbatos is distracted, Diavolo orders the kid's popcorn combo because he wanted the collectible cup and toy it comes with.
Simeon buys a kid's popcorn combo for Luke and a frozen yogurt cup for himself.
(He gets two spoons so Luke can share it with him.)
Solomon orders popcorn with butter for himself, and everyone is relieved that he didn't try to sneak in any of his own homemade snacks.
He pulls out a salt shaker filled with something he claims he made himself and sprinkles it all over his popcorn.
(Unsurprisingly, no one else wants to try any when he offers it.)
Your entire group could fill an entire row of the theatre, and seating arrangements are the next big hurdle.
It surprises no one that Mammon, Asmo, Belphie, and Solomon all want to sit beside you.
(You absolutely forbid them from playing rock-paper-scissors in the theatre to solve that squabble.)
There are some obvious allowances in the seating arrangements: your BFF/lover(s) naturally claim the seats beside or closest to you.
If the seat's not already taken, Lucifer wants to sit on your right hand side.
(He smiles when you offer him some of your own snacks during the film.)
Satan and Belphie are not allowed to sit in the row behind Lucifer's seat—he already knows they'll kick the back of his chair (or his head) if they do.
Beel and Belphie usually sit next to each other. If Belphie falls asleep, he'll lean on Beel's shoulder so he doesn't disturb anyone else.
Levi complains that he's not in the seat that will give him the "best viewer experience," whatever that means, but he will sit close to you or Mammon if he can.
Solomon, Simeon and Luke move up a row and sit behind you if they can't sit beside you.
(Luke will tap your shoulder during the movie and offer you some of the candy from his kid's combo.)
Diavolo likes to sit beside or close to Lucifer.
(You can hear Diavolo comment excitedly about things throughout the movie while Lucifer reminds him to hush, which leads to both of them bickering loud enough for everyone else to hear.)
Barbatos likes to sit near Satan because they both enjoy watching the film quietly and won't bother each other.
(Barbatos doesn't mind sitting apart from Diavolo because he's always mindful of what his Young Master is up to.)
m.list | Taglist: @l-d-8 @mithrakira @your-next-daydream @haezen @xpixie @meggsngrits @flemmingbamse @tortibomb @amberrskiies @a-hidden-gem @lust--on--my--lips @meiloorun-tea @beelsjuicytitties @goldenglow149 @callmesaya @cosmicstarlatte @alexxncl @sirimirihiro @i-am-empress-irish @ezraiix @bizarrebankai @devildomd0ll @todothedodo @gaychaosgremlin @alexxavicry @moon-i-v @ablondehoe @thewisteriarchives @vinsmouke @kiirschtein @halaxia @bookoffracturedescapes
#obey me#obey me demon brothers#obey me dateables#lucifer x reader#mammon x reader#leviathan x reader#satan x reader#asmodeus x reader#beelzebub x reader#belphegor x reader#diavolo x reader#barbatos x reader#simeon x reader#solomon x reader#obey me luke#obey me x reader#omswd x reader#obey me x mc#obey me x you#x reader#obey me fanfic#obey me headcanons#obey me imagines#gn!reader
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After a week, you started feeling like maybe it was your fault. After a month, you grew desperate. After two months, you grew helpless. After three months, you stopped believing in love.
It wasn’t that you gave up. No, it was that you believed he had. Who would do such a thing to the love of their life? To ghost them after an argument over where to move to after your wedding? No person with a normal mind would make that rational decision.
Well then again, no person with a normal mind would assassinate the CEO of one of the largest health care providers in the world. Or rather, be accused of such a crime.
“If it's actually him, he’s… scrumptious,” your coworker said as you walked into the breakroom. The past couple of weeks, months even, you’d kept your head down, barely engaging in coworker small talk. But when they called your name, you were obliged to answer.
“What do you think about the CEO killer?” Your other coworker asked with a grin on her face.
You shrugged, stirring sugar into your third cup of coffee, “I told you, I don’t think it was right, but I get it. Fuck health insurance.” You hadn’t even looked up as you spoke. You hated the healthcare system, without a doubt. Your fiance— ex-fiance now— being the prime reason for your strong feelings.
Your coworkers giggled, “You really don’t check the news, do you?” You looked at them with a shrug, sipping your coffee. “NYPD dropped another picture of what this guy looks like. He was flirting with a barista or something.”
With a sigh, you padded over, peering onto her phone. Your face fell immediately. You could spot that smile anywhere.
And that’s how you saw your fiancé after months of not hearing from him. No, ex-fiancé after you decided that he wouldn’t be coming back to marry you.
He was on your coworkers phone, not on yours in the form of old pictures you refused to delete, but off a news account on TikTok.
There was a part of you that wouldn’t put it past him and another part of you that thought maybe he would. The latter was your guiding force to private all of your social media accounts.
pt. 2
chat... i said we would be getting a mr. mangione fic... didn't i? NO ONE ACT SURPRISED -Nony wony
#luigi mangione#free luigi#luigi mangione x reader#luigi mangione x y/n#luigi mangione ff#help me#mr. mangione
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Sam’s Weekly Wrap Up
Week one is upon us! My Advent Month has been so much fun to do so far, and I can't wait for the rest of it!
The Act of Healing It didn’t take long to realize that it wasn’t normal—that Harry wasn’t normal. That no one else could see the strange lights and dented auras that surrounded everyone. Harry had learned at an early age to hide it, to tell no one else about it. It worked. At least until he encountered a boy in a robe shop with the largest light he’d ever seen.
But what did it mean?
Renatus Reborn “I know Potter,” Draco began, leaning forward slightly. “I wasted six years observing him only for him to die in that forest. I don’t know who you are, but you somehow managed to get inside his body.”
Or the one where the rest of the world believes that Harry Potter came back, alive and whole. But to those that knew him, he didn’t come back at all, for it wasn’t Potter who stood before them. It was someone else.
Predicting the Present Malfoy—of all people—was the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and Harry didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.
“Professor Malfoy said we’ll be learning the basics on how to cast a Patronus!”
Oh really? That, Harry had to see.
Where to? Date time, only why does Scorpius think he gets to tag along? And is that a suit he's wearing?
Tricks and Giggles Professor Malfoy rarely gave extra credit, the harsh and bitter teacher that he was. So, when it was announced that all they had to do was get his son—Scorpius, who was still a baby—to interact with their Magic, they all assumed it would be a walk in the park.
How hard could it be?
Because it's you 'They are only together because they are soulmates.'
They were so much more than that and it was about time the world realized it. This is a story of how Harry and Draco fell in love and how very little being soulmates had to do with any of it.
Crude Coffee “—this coffee tastes horrible.”
“Of course it does.” The drawling tone was biting and held derision. “We here at Cup of Crude promise coffee in a timely manner, we never promised that it’ll taste good.”
Harry snorted, unable to help himself.
#Drarry#Drarry Advent Month#Advent Weekly Wrap Up 1#Draco Malfoy#Harry Potter#XxTheDarkLordxX Writes#Slytherin Harry#Came Back Wrong#Drarry Dads#Baby Scorpius#Drarry Professors#Professor Harry Potter#Professor Draco Malfoy#Soulmates#Coffee Shop AU
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TikTok was where I learned about SHEIN. For a while my For You page, which had accurately identified my interest in fashion’s more material impacts, served me videos of sustainable fashion influencers decrying SHEIN’s wretched labor and environmental practices. The textile industry is the second-largest polluter in the world, they said, and of all the fast-fashion producers, SHEIN is by far the worst offender. SHEIN uses toxic chemicals in their clothing production; SHEIN mass-produces fabrics like spandex that never decompose (at this point an image would flash across the screen: an overflowing clothing landfill, or a mountain of discarded clothes in the Chilean desert so large it is visible from space); SHEIN exploits and endangers its factory workers. Employees earn $556 a month to make five hundred pieces of clothing every day, work eighteen-hour days, and use their lunch breaks to wash their hair — a schedule they repeat seven days per week with only one day off per month. A more nuanced TikToker might point out, briefly, that conditions in SHEIN factories are not necessarily unique, or that focusing on suppliers — rather than the larger systems of Western consumption and capitalism that create these conditions — is a fool’s errand, but the platform isn’t built for that kind of dialogue. I clicked on the comments and invariably read ones with several dozen likes saying, “I’m so willing to die in shein clothes.” Before long I was watching SHEIN hauls. There are millions of them — the tag #sheinhaul has been viewed a collective 14.2 billion times on TikTok. In each haul, a woman rips open a plastic bag filled with smaller plastic bags filled with small plastic clothing. Sometimes the woman holds up each garment and narrates its merits, but often the clothes are disembodied, laid flat on a floor or a bed in an accidental stop-motion animation. A stretchy red skirt on a furry white carpet is replaced by a strapless watercolor bustier with a deep-V neckline. A zebra-print skirt is followed by a matching pink two-piece set, with a short-sleeve cardigan and miniskirt constructed from a fabric that looks like bubble wrap. Sometimes a haul is five pieces, and sometimes it is too many pieces to count. The garments appear and disappear in seconds, edited to the beat of a trending song. Rarely do we see the clothing on a body. Usually brand familiarity accrues in a slow drip, building from obscurity to instant recognizability over the course of months or years as a designer’s work intersects with the zeitgeist and gains traction on social media. SHEIN was different. One day I’d never heard of the retailer and the next it was inescapable: in thousands of outfit videos, on millions of social media feeds. The clothes weren’t distinct or cohesive; what united them wasn’t style but price. All those SHEIN hauls entered my feeds with such ubiquity that they began to feel like they’d always been there. I’d opened a door to a new part of the fashion internet: a place where girls bragged about their ultra-fast-fashion purchases, delighting in the cheapness of the garments. Here, SHEIN was the obvious choice for new clothes. Why not, when you could buy on-trend pieces at lightning speed for less than the price of a cup of coffee? It was uncanny to bounce between videos: here was a girl showing off her new halter, here was another girl giving a litany of reasons why it was unconscionable to buy clothes for so little money. Didn’t these TikTokers hear one another? But then again, how could they? “This is what we keep missing here in the whole conversation about sustainability in the industry,” Nick Anguelov, a professor of public policy from UMass Dartmouth, said to a Slate journalist writing about SHEIN in June. “We keep failing to understand that our customers are kids and they don’t give a fuck.”
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upgrade pt.3
pro hero! midoriya izuku x fem!reader⋆。°✩ — most of izu's arm has been amputated, hurt comfort, swearing, 4k words
pt.1, pt.2, epilogue
It’s 3am and you jolt awake, realising that you had dozed off mid-construction.
It’s been three days since the fight where Izuku lost his arm, and you’ve barely slept since. You’ve been busy, juggling sourcing materials and building Izuku’s robotic arm with visiting him daily and remembering to eat and shower. You look like a little rat to be honest, hair in a low messy bun, welding mask tilted up so you can see. The huge gloves make it hard to meld all of the parts together, but you know that they’re for your own good.
It’s coming together well. You’re supposed to be putting on the last attachments right now instead of dozing off, so it will be ready for testing tomorrow. Luckily, Izuku’s wound hasn’t developed an infection yet and yesterday, you were able to meet with the orthopaedic surgeon who will be attaching Izuku’s replacement arm. You two discussed the design and attachment in detail. He was open-minded and asked you various questions about how the arm would work once attached. You felt grateful that Dr Kita had chosen such an enthusiastic surgeon for Izuku’s second surgery. You were confident that he’d be in good hands.
Looking over to your empty Shoto mug that Izuku scored you for your birthday earlier that year, you decided to take a little break to freshen up before continuing on with welding. You grabbed your mug and made your way to the kitchen, basking in the quietness of the night permeated by the sound of the kettle boiling. You made yourself another coffee and took it out to the balcony attached to your living room.
You loved sitting on the balcony. It always left you in awe, seeing the world below. Usually, Izuku would come out and sit with you in the morning.
You normally sat down in the plush chair to the right and journalled, coffee on the small table next to you, but tonight, you took your coffee leaning over the metal fence. You sighed in a mix of relief and exhaustion. You closed your eyes, feeling the crispy night breeze cascading across your warm skin. You stayed like that for a while until you felt those familiar jitters and headed back inside to continue your work.
…⊹₊⟡⋆…
It was around 7am when you finished adding those last touches. You stared down at your work, proud and relieved. The first part was finished now. You had been working over a low table, cross-legged on the floor with a lamp overhead. Your feet had pins and needles and it was such a good yet painful experience to finally stand up. You went to shower and get ready, washing your hair and moisturising with your favourite lotion. You wrapped the arm in a thick cloth before stuffing it with care into the largest tote bag you own. The clothed hand was still visible, peaking out from the top of the bag, but it was good enough.
The trip to Central Hospital was uneventful. Or maybe, you were just too tired to notice anything that had happened. Your brain was working on autopilot, taking you up to level 5 and walking you to Izuku’s room, hand knocking on the door. You didn’t hear any response, so you gently opened the door and slipped into the room.
Ah, he was still asleep. Your sweet angel. Which was strange because Izuku was an early riser. Nevertheless, you came over to his side, placing your bag down on the table by his bedside and sitting on his bed. Your right hand stroked the side of his face, gently cupping his cheek. You leaned over and placed a kiss on his forehead. He groaned groggily in response, rocking his head slightly.
You giggled, “Good morning, sleepyhead.” He groaned again, eyelids slowly fluttering open to reveal those beautiful green eyes that always take your breath away. A lazy smile spread across his face upon seeing you, and he turns his head to place a brief kiss on your palm.
He rasps into your skin, “Morning, honey.”
You chuckle lightly. Gosh your man is so handsome! What a heartthrob. You just love it when he just wakes up.
You move your palm away, now resting it on his thigh. “Did you sleep okay?” He rubs his face with the back of his remaining hand. He yawns and stretches a little, wincing in pain from his still open wound.
“I was up most of the night,” he breathes out. “Just thinking.” You stay quiet, looking at him tenderly, hoping he’ll continue. He knows that look well.
Sighing, he brushes it off, “Really, it’s nothing to worry about.”
You shake your head, scowling lightly, “Izu-chan. Don’t get like that with me. Tell me, what’s been on your mind?” He looks away from you momentarily, focusing on sitting up. You lean back over to help him up. Once he’s upright, you’re running your fingers through his unruly curls. You laugh at how messy they’ve gotten. His hair is always a struggle to tame in the morning. He moans softly at the feeling. You stop once satisfied with how they look. They’re still messy, but he looks a little more presentable now.
“Come onnnnnnn. Or fine, don’t tell me. That’s cool too.” You whine.
He chuckles, “Honey, I just don’t want to make you worry.” His self-sacrificial behaviour begins to get on your nerves.
Your brows furrow as you say, “It’s my job to worry. I’m your girlfriend after all. Whose going to take care of you if I don’t?”
He doesn’t like it when you look him that way, upset. He hates making you feel upset.
“I’m sorry. It’s just…um,” he starts. Your practically begging him with your eyes to just keep talking. It’s something you’ve been working on together for years, Izuku being more open about talking about how he feels with you. It’s not that he can’t, it’s just that he just doesn’t want to burden you, which is why he tries to keep the worst of his thoughts and emotions to himself. But, he knows how much it irritates you, so he usually ends up divulging it anyways.
“Is it about your arm?” You ask as your tilt your head to the side, nodding toward it. Apart from the cry you two had together that first night, Izuku’s been avoiding the topic of losing his arm like the plague. You’re pretty sure that’s what has been on his mind. I mean, what else could be keeping him up at night right now? And this assumption is confirmed when his eyes widen and mouth drops open slightly. He regains his composure quickly, laughing airily as he looks away from you and starts rubbing the nape of his neck.
“Maybe.”
You raise an eyebrow as you say, “Maybe?” Your stare is quite intense and he’s not too sure how long he can withstand it. Apparently, not very long as he gives up trying to hide this from you any longer.
“It’s just… hard.” You nod, squeeing his thigh gently above the blankets. “It’s like…” You can see that his eyes are already becoming glassy.
“A part of me is gone now. It doesn’t f-feel real. I-it—” He’s struggling to hold back the tears. You move so that you’re curled up into his right side. His right arm is around you, your knees on his lap, arms around his shoulders. He lays his head into the crook of your neck, sniffling. You can feel his tears drip onto you.
You two stay like that for a while as he cries and hiccups. You stroke the top and back of his head as he let’s it out. You hate knowing that he’s been crying all alone, thinking it was better to be by himself than with you. You’re about to start crying too, so you opt to rest your head on top of his, looking upwards every so often to blink those tears back.
Once, he’s calmed down and taken some deep breaths, he continues, “I-I don’t know if I’ll e-ever be me again. I-I k-know that I’ll have-have another arm b-but it’s not the-the same.”
You hum. “I-it’s like I’ve... l-like I’ve been r-robbed of a-a part of me. I'm-I’m n-not whole anymore.” You squeeze his shoulder. You know that right now isn’t the time to tell him how wonderful you think he is. He just needs the space to express his emotions and fears first. He continues to cry into your neck until the neckline to the shoulder of Izuku’s All Might shirt you threw on is drenched.
You start, “You know, maybe this isn’t such a bad thing—”
“Honey,” he interrupts you immediately, his voice stiff and cloudy. “What-What do you mean this isn’t ‘such a-a bad thing’.” His tone tells you everything you need to know.
You silently promise him you’re not being a dick and continue, you press on, “What if this is a neutral thing? Something that’s just happened. And you get to decide if it’s a bad thing or if it’s something challenging that you’ll overcome.” You continue running your fingers through his hairs, those green curls bouncing back every time.
“S-something I’ll over-overcome?”
You nod, giving the back of his neck a rub, “Yea, like how you’ve overcome the challenge of One For All and learnt how to master it.” He’s quiet for a few moments.
“But I haven’t. Y-you heard what Kacchan said. I-I shouldn’t of used One For All at 100%. I-I know I-I shouldn’t have but—”
“Forget about what Kacchan said. You did what you did because you wanted to save her, right?” Izuku nods slowly, head still resting on your shoulder. “That’s because you're a hero.” You plant a kiss on top of his head. “The best hero ever, okay? And you got hurt. It happens to all heroes. I mean, look at what’s happened to All Might after his years of being a hero. But he’s still strong, right? So you can be too.”
You two let things settle for a few more minutes. By now, Izuku’s stopped sobbing and sniffling altogether. His breathing is much calmer now. You let out a deep breath, “I’m gonna need to borrow your quirk to test your arm.” You point at your bag on the bedside table, Izuku following your fingers. He nods, lifting his head back up. His arm comes down to your waist, hand giving it a squeeze.
You see, the way this quirk stealing thing works depends on the intensity and emotions of the kiss (because you borrow quirks via kissing, remember?).
You say that you can ‘steal’ someone’s quirk for up to 24 hours but in reality, you don’t actually know how long you could have someone’s quirk for. It would be temporary of course, but 24 hours is the longest period yet that you’ve ‘stolen’ someone’s quirk.
Actually, you’ve never taken Izuku’s quirk before, so you were curious about if you could and how it would work with the wielders. Would you make contact with them? Could you even ‘steal’ Izuku’s quirk? You were going out on a bit of limb when you told Dr Kita that you could. I mean, you’ve never had any issues with other people’s quirks before. Would One For All be any different?
The time you’re able to borrow a quirk for depends on two factors: 1) how strong the quirk and/or quirk user is and 2) how intense and emotional the kiss is.
You rest your forehead on Izuku, activating your quirk, before he brings his lips up to yours. The kiss is soft at first. Either party uncertain of how deep things were going to go. But you throw caution to the wind and tilt your head more, pressing hard into Izuku’s lips. He meets your enthusiasm, teeth catching lightly on your bottom lip. You moan into it, fingers now tugging at his roots. Soon, tongues are entwining and tasting each other. Boy hasn’t brushed his teeth yet so it’s not exactly pleasant, but you push through. This has gotta give you at least 12 hours with his quirk, right?
A simple peck on the lips or kiss on the cheek could already grant you 3-5 hours depending on how strong the quirk and it’s user were, so this has gotta give you at least 10 hours due to how strong Izuku was and how deeply connected he was to his quirk.
At last, you two pull away, gasping for air. His hand now rests between your shoulder blades, his thumb gently caressing the space there. You feel that familiar, bubbling sensation all over your body, meaning that the transfer of his quirk was successful.
You smirk and give him a brief kiss on his forehead, “Thanks, broccoli boy.”
You get up, already missing the warmth of his body, and walk around to the other side of the bed. You’re about to grab your bag when suddenly, you realise—
“Izu-chan, you wanna see the arm I built you?” You’re already fishing it out of your tote, placing it on top and unwrapping it from the thick brown cloth protecting it. He hums in agreement.
The morning sunlight glints on the dark green metal. You pick it up with both hands and show it to him. It’s actually not that heavy, maybe two kilos, but you don’t want to drop it.
“Do you like it?” You look up and he’s wide eyed, staring at your creation in awe.
He stutters, “I, Honey, yea, I… Wow, you’re so incredible. It looks great!” He’s grinning and you feel so happy that he likes it.
You begin turning it over and explaining all the different parts and how the arm works, what it can do including normal arm stuff and other stuff. You’ve included a gun barrel, which has already been loaded with bullets, and a small canon that (hopefully) fires electrical bursts of energy generated by his quirk (which one idk man you pick, there’s too many), in the arm.
“You make a fist and tilt your arm right for the gun or left for the canon.” He nods.
Once you’ve explained everything that you can think of about the arm, you give him another small kiss before saying goodbye.
You took the elevator down to ground floor and after exiting the hospital, you began walking to the station. Now, you had to test the arm. You planned to go to one of the wooded areas on the very outskirts of Tokyo. You’ve never used One For All before so you had to figure it out before you began testing the arm. Damn! You should of asked him for some tips before you left.
…⊹₊⟡⋆…
Izuku’s eyes widen and he jumps in his bed as the door bursts open, clipboard on the back rattling. A scowling Bakugou walks in, Shoto in tow stoic as usual. Broccoli boy immediately relaxes and a small smile comes to his face. Most days, Bakugou and Shoto stayed with Izuku during the day, after you had left. They usually sat down on or beside his bed, talking about anything and everything; the future, their All Might trading card collections, reminiscing about UA.
Today, Bakugou plopped down on Izuku’s bed, where you had been moments earlier while Shoto dragged a chair over and sat on broccoli boy’s other side. The conversation centred around starting an agency. Bakugou was sick of working under Best Jeanist. Meanwhile, Izuku was happy being part of an agency, but had been thinking about starting his own after his rise to the top. And Shoto had joined Endeavor’s agency after leaving UA and worked as a pro hero under him.
“When Endeavor retires, I’ll take over his agency.” Shoto’s voice was calm, but the boys knew how tense it was beneath that smooth surface
“Tch. Thought you didn’t like your old man,” Bakugou said as he folded his arms, a familiar furrow between his brows deepening as he stared icyhot down from across the bed.
Shoto shrugged, “I don’t have to like him to inherit his agency.”
Izuku pouted, “But Todoroki-kun, I thought you were working on it.” At this, Shoto shrugged again.
“OI!” The two boys looked back to the blond. “I DON’T CARE IF YOU INHERIT AN AGENCY, MINE’LL BE THE BEST ‘ERE!” Bakugou had that sharp, lopsided grin on his face as he glared at Shoto, challenging him.
Izuku chuckled, “I’m sure it will be.” He looked down, shaking his head while laughing lightly.
Bakugou scoffed and rolled his eyes. “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU DEKU, EH? DON’T TELL ME YOU’RE GIVIN’ UP ALREADY!” The fiery blond had locked onto a new target to express his aggressions. He was pointing at Izuku who just rubbed his neck sheepishly.
Izuku’s voice was quiet as he said, “Sorry, Kacch—”
“AH? I CAN’T HEAR YOU.”
Izuku continued looking down until he eventually chuckled. He met those fierce eyes with his own much puffier and gentler ones. He said, “You’re right, there is something wrong with me. But, I’m not giving up yet.”
“Tch. Whatever.” Bakugou looked away, rolling his eyes again.
It was quiet for a bit before Shoto broke the silence, “Should we get some lunch?”
At this, Bakugou grinned, “Oi, let’s get it from that café we took pipsqueak to.” He was already standing when Izuku tilted his head to side.
He asked, “Who’s pipsqueak?
Bakugou barked out his laughter. “YOUR GIRLFRIEND DUMMY.” Izuku’s mouth hung open slightly for a moment, confusion leaving his mind blank.
“Oh," he said.
Shoto got up from his chair and walked around to stand beside Bakugou. He kept his distance thankfully as Bakugou turned around, glaring at him.
“You, stay ‘ere. I’ll get us some coffee and sandwiches. You want iced coffee?” Shoto nodded. Bakugou left the two of them alone, walking out with his shoulders hunched as per usual. There weren’t any stupid pockets on the gown to stuff his sweaty palms into.
Shoto came to sit where Bakugou had been, on Izuku’s bedside. Izuku shifted slightly. “So,” he started nervous-curiously, “is that where they went after leaving my room? To the café?”
Shoto remained impassive, “I don’t know. I was already at the café when Bakugou and [y/n]-san walked in and joined me.” Izuku gave Shoto that look. That ‘tell me everything’ look.
Shoto shrugged, “She seemed stressed. She told me that I was her second favourite hero and Bakugou got annoyed. He bought her a coffee and a sandwich.”
Izuku nodded at this new information. You hadn’t mentioned to him that you went for coffee with Bakugou and Shoto. He assumed that this was because you were focused on constructing his cybernetic arm (which in part was true, but also because he’s already going through so much, you didn’t want to burden him or make him feel insecure about your relationship. He was the only one for you, after all.).
“She’s cute. Quite talkative. You two seem like a good match.”
At this, Izuku perked up, “You think?” Shoto nodded. Izuku brought his right hand back to his neck and began rubbing it again. It went quiet again.
“I think… I-I think I might propose at the end of the year. What do you think?”
Those heterochromatic eyes hid their surprise well. Izuku? Get married? Soon? He was the only one in a long-term relationship out of the dekusquad. It made sense for him to be thinking about marriage. Shoto could see what a catch you were. If you were his girlfriend, he’d be thinking about it too.
“I think you should do what’s right for you. She clearly loves you very much, and if you love her,” Shoto paused, trying to find the right words. “If it’s the right time, then you should propose.” The boys looked at each other for a few moments, a faint blush spreading across Izuku’s cheeks.
“Y-yea,” he stuttered, “I really do love her.” He was smiling foolishly. Shoto nodded.
The peace of this moment didn’t last long though, for Bakugou slammed the door open soon, arms full with a coffee cup tray and paper bags of deserts and sandwiches. The boys ate up, remarking that this café food was something else. The rest of the afternoon went by a smoothly as possible and soon, Izuku was left alone again, inevitably thinking of how much he loves and admires you.
…⊹₊⟡⋆…
It was a bright, clear morning. Perfect for a somewhat experimental surgery.
You had delivered the tested and refined cybernetic arm to the orthopaedic surgeon’s office on the cusp of 8pm last night. You had spent the first half of the day communicating with the wielders of One For All and learning how to use it. Because of your quirk, your body was able to transform (if a heteromorph quirk has been ‘stolen’) and withstand intense quirks of all types, so you didn’t have any major issues using One For All at full capacity. Sure, it was very tiring (which you made up for with a good sleep last night. The first in four days.) but, Izuku was your partner and technically, your client. It was your duty to rigorously test the arm to ensure functionality, durability, and safety.
Izuku had been informed early that morning that the surgery was to be performed at 8am. And so had you over a phone call that had woke you up and had you tumbling out of bed to pick up.
“Hello,” you grumbled. A clear, deep voice spoke from the other end, “Miss [L/n]?”
“Dr Kita?” You’re stumbling to your feet now, using the bed to help you up.
You plonk down, listening to him continue, “I’ve just spoken to Mr Midoriya. His second surgery will be taking place at 8am. It’s expected to take around 60 minutes. Should I let reception know that you’ll be coming to wait in the recovery room?” You’re rubbing eyes with your free hand, trying to wipe and blink all those morning eye crusts away.
“Yea. Yea! I’ll be there soon. Thanks Doc!” He tells you it’s fine and hangs the line.
You fumbled around, showering absent-mindedly and throwing on whatever looked decent (which was another of Izuku’s All Might shirts and a pair of low-rise baggy jeans).
And now, you were waiting anxiously in front of the recovery room. You wondered where Bakugou and Shoto were. Maybe, they didn’t know. Probably. Or maybe, they had been released yesterday as they didn’t have any major injuries. You checked your phone every few minutes for the time as you paced up and down the corridor, like last time. It was just hitting 9am now.
Were they finished yet? Did the arm attach okay? Was something wrong with it? Did Izuku’s wound get infected? Were there any complications? You kept asking yourself these questions and more. Time seemed to slow and stutter as you waited to be called in. 9am turned into 9:15 turned into 9:30. You were getting worried now. Even more worried than before.
But you couldn’t bask in it for long as—
“Miss [l/n]?” A nurse was poking her head out from the recovery room doors. Different from the one that did the first time. You stopped in your tracks, running down the remaining length of the hallway to meet her.
“Mr Midoriya will see you now.” You nodded frantically. She opens the door, holding it for you as you push past her. See me now? What do you mean ‘see me know’? Had he been awake this whole time? If so then why— It didn’t matter. You shook your head, seeing those untamed green locks peaking out from behind Dr Kita’s slim frame. You let out a sigh of relief.
There was your hero. Safe, sound, and smiling. There was nothing more you could ever ask for.
#mha x reader#bnha x reader#established relationship#shoto todoroki#x female reader#bnha midoriya#fem!reader#izuku midoriya#izuku midoriya x reader#izuku midoriya x you#bakugou katsuki#mha bakugou#amputee izuku#izuku angst#★’s works
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The Wedding
Y/N is stressed planning for their wedding and Harry can’t seem to do anything right.
Warnings: angst, sad ending, explicit language
Word Count: 1.2k
Y/N gazed at the bling on her finger, the stone catching in the sunlight. It had been 6 months since she had said yes and wedding planning was in full swing. Of course with Harry being CEO of one of the largest Fortune 500 companies in the world, their wedding was all any of the tabloids were talking about.
Harry and Y/N. London’s power couple. There were now less than 2 months before the big day and Y/N had everything under control. Well… she thought she did. Y/N sighed and rubbed her temples as she stared at the seating chart, a massive binder beside her. A steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of her as Harry kissed the top of her head before sitting down next to her.
“Y/N. You’ve been staring at those charts for the last two hours. Why don’t you take a break?” She raised an eyebrow before taking a deep breath.
“Take a break? Are you kidding me? Our wedding is in 2 months Harry. And the seating plan still isn’t finished. I still haven’t bought my dress, you haven’t been to get a tux and we haven’t booked the flowers. We haven’t booked the flowers Harry!” He chuckled before tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
“It’s going to be fine Y/N. Ok let me help. We can have our parents seated together on table 2… wait. Your mom isn’t on this list?” Y/N sighed as Harry looked up at her quizzically.
“I don’t know if I want to invite her. We still haven’t worked out all of our issues and I don’t need her coming in and running the whole show.”
“Why don’t you invite her for a visit? You need to work things out and I’m sure she would love nothing more than to be there for you on our day.” Y/N took a large sip of her coffee, shaking her head violently.
“Nope. No way Harry. I can’t deal with her right now. I’m stressed enough as it is.”
“But maybe if you tried you could-”
“I said NO Harry. Stop pushing it.” She turned her attention back to the seating chart, shutting him out completely. Harry watched her for a few moments before shaking his head and walking to the study. She’s just overwhelmed, he told himself. We’re going to be fine.
~
3 weeks later Y/N felt like she was drowning. She had found her dress but it was the wrong size since she had lost so much weight for the wedding. Everyone was getting on her nerves. Even Harry. Well… especially Harry. She heard the front door open then close and tore her gaze away from her planner to see Harry come in through the front door. Noticeably, without a tux. He leant down to kiss her hello, before noticing her annoyed glare.
“Everything ok hun?”
“Harry… where’s your tux?” Y/N asked coolly. His expression turned to confusion.“Y/N, what are you talking about? You told me last week to pick it up on Wednesday. It’s- he checked the date on his phone- shit. I thought it was Tuesday. Doesn’t matter, I'll just go tomorrow.” Y/N slammed her book shut before glaring at him once more.
“You can’t just “go tomorrow.” They’re closed for the next 3 weeks Harry. You won’t have time to make any adjustments if it’s wrong. God why can’t you just listen for once?!” She bit out frustrated.
Harry laughed dryly.
“Why can’t I just listen for once? Jesus Y/N, I have been listening to you for the past 6 months complain about each tiny thing that has gone wrong. Big deal. I forgot to collect it. I’ll go and get it when I can. Calm down.” Y/N stood up from the couch seething.
“Calm down? Are you fucking serious? I am so busy Harry. I have a company to run and the wedding of the year to plan. Have you seen these tabloids? I am so sick of all of them asking whether or not I’m having a baby because I seem to have ‘gained a little weight’ lately. I’m asking you to do one thing and you can’t even do that. What have you done to help me Harry? I am so sick of you.”
“Oh my god Y/N what the hell is wrong with you? It’s our wedding, it’s not the hunger games. No one is dying if it isn’t perfect. I don’t understand why you-” The doorbell rang, silencing the both of them.
Y/N stalked over to the door and wrenched it open.
“My baby!” Y/N spat out a mouthful of blonde hair as she was brought into a bone-crushing hug.
“I’ve missed you so much! And a wedding? When Harry called me last week to invite me, I just couldn’t believe it!” Y/N tugged out of the hug shooting a death glare at her fiance.
“Harry did what?” Lauren Williams beamed at her daughter, oblivious to the tension in the room.
“He invited me to the wedding honey.” She repeated patiently. Lauren moved around to give Harry a hug.
“I can’t wait to help you with everything sweetie. Have you chosen a dress? Can I see? What about flowers? Because they can be hard to-”
“Mom,” Y/N said through gritted teeth. “I just need to have a quick chat with Harry ok?”
Y/N dragged Harry to the spare bedroom down the hall to make sure Lauren couldn’t hear them.
“Ok what the fuck Harry? I specifically told you I didn’t want her here!” Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
“I thought it would be better for you guys to sort out your issues before the wedding but it seems like we have some stuff to work out ourselves.” Y/N huffed before crossing her arms over her chest.
“Yeah? No kidding. This is another example of you not listening. You don’t make an effort Harry and it drives me insane since I’m here fighting for this wedding. For us.” Harry snapped.
“Well if it’s so difficult for you then maybe we should call off the wedding! This clearly isn't working for us anymore! He yelled.
Y/N’s mouth snapped shut, her anger replaced with sadness. Her eyes glistened with tears and her bottom lip trembled.
“Are you… serious?” She asked quietly. “You just want to give up on us?” Because of an argument?” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, his frustration evident.
“One argument? All we do is argue! I haven’t had a single conversation with you that hasn’t ended with one of us screaming in the last 2 weeks. I don’t know what you want from me Y/N! I’m trying. I swear to god I’m fucking trying.”
“So is that what we’re doing then? Calling it off?”
“No Y/N I didn’t mean that. I just-”
“No, you made it pretty clear what you meant.” She let the tears fall freely now, dodging around him to get through the door, grabbing her purse off the table ignoring the confused look from her mother.
“Y/N, come back! We can work this out.”
“I have to get out of here Harry.” She rushes out onto the street, tears clouding her vision, her one goal being to get to her car. She doesn’t hear Harry screaming her name until it’s too late. The car hits her just as she looks up, but she’s unconscious before she can even feel the pain.
A/N: 🫠
Taglist:
@lukesaprince @intimacywithceline @styleslover-1994
#harry styles#hslot#love on tour#harrystyles#harry styles ceo#harry styles angst#harry styles writing#harry styles fics#harry styles au#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x yn#harry styles fanfic rec
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History Might Have Forgotten
Summary: A new storyteller appears at Alhaitham’s favorite cafe, and you seem to like to pick his brain about reading between the lines.
Word count: 4.2k (The longest one I’ve ever written)
Tags: gn reader x alhaitham, sfw, slow burn, lore heavy (kinda), spoilers for archon quest, just alhaitham being difficult to get along with as usual. Kaveh just here for moral support. I did use in-game dialogue from their post on the cafe message board. Written before 3.4, so some things might be inaccurate later on.
Authors Note: Sorry if the fairytales are kinda wack, I tried to make my own. Also, I looked at a bunch of lore about sumeru and the scarlet king and goddess of flowers and just decided to run with it. Def not pure canon, but I hope you still enjoy!
“There once was a time when the lord of flowers had accompanied the lord of the forest into the depths of the irminsul, curious about the root of all knowledge in Teyvat. Its bright white branches stretched seemingly endlessly, throughout the realm. She was unprepared for the dull reality of waiting for her friend to finish her sacred tasks of looking after the irminsul.
Looking around at the knowledge that flowed like a gentle sinkhole towards the tree of the world, whose white branches reflected off the calm pool, the lord of flowers felt the itch to get up and perform a dance.
Perhaps dancing shall make the time pass by faster, and with that thought, the goddess of flowers closed her eyes letting the beat of imaginary music flow through her divine body.
Each elegant step, each precise glide of her hands, each graceful twirl faithfully followed by the reflection in the pool of knowledge. Her dance so captivating that the lord of the forest could not help but stop and admire her friend’s dance, as an avatar of the irminsul, she could feel that the sacred tree was also pleased with this performance.
As the lord of flowers knelt one knee to the ground in a bow, signifying the end of the show…
There was the echo of a drop hitting the waters still surface, followed by a violent rush of water as the surface tension broke, then stillness once more.
A Jinn came into existence. Its birth was witnessed by the lord of the forest and the lord of flowers whom the Jinn mirrored in beauty.
‘It appears irminsul loved your performance so much, it wanted to create an avatar from your reflection.’ The forest lord interpreted the message from the world tree.
‘A gift of the highest honor.’ The goddess of flowers spoke, gently caressing the locks which framed the Jinn’s gaze that looked not into her eyes, but into the depths of her heart.”
‘What a ridiculous tall tale’, the scribe thought as he took a sip of coffee.
Teal eyes peering over his cup, in place of where Maddah, the caffeine-addicted man, usually was, stood a fresh face. He remembers Kaveh rambling about how Maddah’s material had become so stale, the owners at Puspa Cafe had invited a wandering storyteller.
Instead of the exaggerated legends of great battles, lost treasure, and towering monsters told by the jittery man. These stories were different, it was as if the storyteller was painting a scenery into the minds of the listener, slowly immersing them into a mental play. However, as a man of reason, Alhaitham found it hard to ignore the glaring inaccuracies in the stories.
In the largest expanse of ancient text and scripts of kingdoms gone, there was no mention of such a Jinn. As he thought about the sources of this tale, calm applause rippled through the homely corner of the cafe.
You had finished telling your tales for the day, a serene smile thanking your listeners as you headed towards the acting manager. A bit eager to collect your payment in the form of a warm meal and a few mora. It had only been a week since the manager approached your street performance near the Grand Bazaar, seemly desperate to invite you to perform at Puspa Cafe.
Who were you to pass up such a cushy opportunity? A hot meal and a steady stream of mora were more than you could ever ask for. You brought forth your best stories, where one story ended, the next began. However, you would always stop after introducing the next story, ensuring that the anticipation drew your listeners back like bees to a sweet flower.
Upon your way to settle down at a table to await your meal, the peaceful atmosphere of the cafe was shattered by two bickering voices.
“And that is exactly why I've always despised materialists like you. Art is a precious fruit of leisure. You can't compare it to production and exploitation for commercial purposes!” A blond man exclaimed.
“Leisurely people are like people walking on a spherical ground, they don't exist. Why don't you use your brain and think for a moment? Can the production of anything exist without commercial exchange?” Was the rebuttal from an ashen-haired man.
Oh, and you thought you were supposed to be the entertainment as people dined on their coffee and meals. The clash of wits playing out in front of everyone’s amused glances, something about the reactions of the other patrons told you this was a regular occurrence.
“Have you no understanding of what passion is? Passion comes within the heart, not the cold machine of commercialism!”
“Passion is like a fire, without anything to feed it. It soon will flicker weakly before burning out into ashes. How can any passion survive without mora?”
“Ugh! I cannot bare to listen to your mangled views of art!”
“Great, shall I take that as a sign that you have found new lodging?”
“How low will you stoop, Scribe??”
“Excuse me.”
Both of their heads snapped toward you, the person who had interfered with their debate. However, your interest could not help but be peeked by the discussion of this comical scene. You had abandoned your original plans of settling down, instead, you had wandered toward this lively table.
As a supporter of art yourself, you felt the need to come to the blond man’s defense, seeing how his lack of composure is leading him down the path of defeat.
“Apologies, if I am intruding. However, this discussion is far too interesting to not join. May I give my thoughts?”
The blond man shifted his position at the table, opening up room for you to sit down.
“Please be my guest, storyteller. Please educate this materialistic man about the basics of human leisure.”
Placing yourself in front of the ashen-haired man, you made sure to keep your back straight to give yourself an air of confidence. You began your surrebutter.
“While it is true that an aspect of art is tied to commercialism, the true value cannot be fully measured. It cannot be counted like mora, nor measured by a sexton. Thus, causing many scholars to brush art off as a frivolous waste of time. But the value of art can be felt, no? From the layout of this cafe, to the spines of books, to the print of the words. It’s all art.”
The man in front of you just returned a scoff. Oh, you knew you were in for a long debate now.
Throughout the drawn-out debate, you had gained key information about the two gentlemen that had welcomed you to their table. The blond man’s name was Kaveh, the famous architect and fellow lover of the arts. The ashen-haired man, with whom you were engaged in continuous rounds of rebuttals, was the scribe of the Akademiya, Alhaitham. A stubborn and rational man, you concluded. Unfortunately for him, you can be just as self-willed.
“As I have stated before. Art holds more than just monetary value, dear scribe. As a graduate of Haravatat, you should know that many of the texts you translated over your studies were preserved by storytellers and artists who first pasted them down in oral tradition, followed by written script and murals.” You signed.
“That is exactly why we students had to be wary of the inaccuracies and inconsistencies riddled all throughout those texts. Just like with the tale you told earlier, there is no record of such a Jinn existing before, such a significant creation by the sacred tree will most certainly be recorded somewhere. The history that they record is so twisted by biases and failure of human memory, it is rare to gain anything of significant value from them.”
“Oh my, dear scribe were you by chance equating the existence of a character in a folktale correlates with a physical being?” You tried to stifle your snicker.
“I did not expect you to have such a cute side. I heard that the children in Mondstadt do the same, believing that a man in a red suit will slide down their chimney to give them wonderful little toys. Were you disappointed?”
Alhaitham narrowed his teal eyes at you in a slight glare. “You know what I mean. There seem to not be any mention of this Jinn in other Sumerian folktales.”
You couldn’t help the urge to tease him, but you could feel that he did not seem to want to continue the debate after hearing the cackle coming out of his roommate from your little jest.
“Yes, yes I was just jesting, dear scribe. Please don’t be disappointed. The Jinn could be an analogy of the bond formed between the lord of the forest and the lord of the flowers.” You stood up from your seat.
Your food had long been eaten, his coffee had long been left untouched. You were at the moment considered an employee of Puspa Cafe in a way, thus you shouldn’t be upsetting the customers now.
“Let us conclude this debate for today. I believe I have taken enough of your time, gentlemen. How about we continue this discussion another day? Perhaps over a meal again?” You gave him a smile mixed with customer service and genuine hopefulness.
“Another time?” Alhaitham scoffed, “you want this debate to drag out?”
“Of course,” you noted that he likes to scoff a lot (must be his ego). “It’s to ensure that you will come back to listen to my stories again, maybe you will learn something new. After all, I have to prove to you and the acting manager my ‘commercial value’ no?”
The tall man simply crossed his arms over his chest, an unreadable expression on his face. However, something in his eyes gave you the hint that you needed to confidently conclude, ‘he’ll be back’. After all, no scholar in your experience would ever turn down an opportunity to gain a new piece of wisdom.
“I shall take my leave now, I bid you all goodnight. Until the next time we meet.”
Alhaitham’s eyes followed your figure as you ambled your way toward the acting manager to bid her goodnight, before exiting from the intricately painted door of the cafe, your features highlighted by the warm hues of the setting sun. Once your frame disappeared from his field of view, the scribe realized an error in his interaction with you.
There was an unequal exchange of information, from Kaveh’s blabbering mouth you had gained knowledge of their names, studies, and employment. Meanwhile, Alhaitham could not recall a time during tonight when you had given him your name, all they knew was that you were a wandering storyteller.
‘Oh well, it’s trivial at this point.’ He did not even want to imagine how ridiculous a scene would be of the grand scribe chasing down someone simply for a name.
‘This unequal exchange of information will be balanced out in due time.’ He finished the rest of his cold coffee, unphased by the bitter taste. As if a thought was distracting his mind from the taste. Or was it the sweet anticipation of a future meeting that had mellowed out that bitterness?
Good refreshing debates that stimulate his mind were rare to come by, of course, he would want to take this chance to polish his knowledge and beliefs.
The moon chased the sun away, then the sun chased the moon away from its place in the sky. Thus, a new day came forth.
It was five o’clock sharp when Alhaitham placed his pen down, the report in his hand half finished. However, it was no longer his responsibility for the day as dictated by the hands of the grandfather clock in his office. Tidying up his desk and taking his cape off the back of his chair, he knew he had to be quick so as to not run into an Akademiya intern with another mountain of paperwork to place on his oak desk.
Since the removal of Azar and his group of corrupted sages, as well as the reinstitution of their archon, the piles of paperwork that ended up on his desk only grew exponentially. But, Alhaitham made sure that the paperwork trail will not follow him once he step foot outside his office doors. He made sure to clearly post his working hours right outside his door, it was not his fault that esteemed scholars seem to not be able to read his posting.
He had arrived at his office at nine o’clock in the morning, worked a full day at his desk reading new research proposals, applications for open positions, and signing off on new amendments issued by the lesser lord. Now that the clock now reads a minute past five, he had concluded that it was enough work for the day. It was not like the entire Akademiya would collapse without their acting grand sage for the night, though he preferred to not have that title.
Taking long strides across the marble floors of the Akademiya floors, Alhaitham made sure to avoid the searching eyes of others, especially if they happened to be carrying a stack of paper. Exiting out of the grand doors of the building and continuing down the winding path, allowing his skin to get used to the sudden change from the cool crisp air of his office, to the warm afternoon breeze typical of Sumeru. Thus, he began his routine journey toward a certain cafe.
The moment he pushed open the door to the cafe, he could see the staff take one look at him, then start to prepare his order. There was no need for him to speak a word to any of them as he made his way to his preferred table. The familiar faces of other patrons were all around, more to join as they were still making their way from work to the cafe, the same smell of coffee and samosas wafting through the air. The only change seemed to be that Maddah was not standing in the center of the collection of tables.
In that spot stood you, the nameless storyteller who recently had just arrived, and the person patient (willing) enough to want to continue a debate with him.
“Thank you all for coming back to hear my stories tonight, “ you began as soon as the last table was occupied.
“The tale I wish to tell tonight may be a bit different, as I believe it holds a small mystery. Will you be able to decipher it?”
Alhaitham could feel the weight of your gaze upon him as you questioned the audience. He simply decided to blow off the steam from the coffee that had just been placed on his table, the white vapors bending and warping his view of you.
“There once was a dove, young and as soft as padisarah petals. It had a lovely coo, which earned the dove the favor of the goddess of flowers.
‘What a lovely thing you are, just as the same as I. Oh, my little dove will you coo for me?’ The goddess stroked its down feathers.”
Taking sips of his dark coffee in intervals as he watched you perform, Alhaitham could not help but find the story childish. Certainly not befitting of a cafe frequented by working adults, and yet here you were captivating a room full of weary grown-ups with a children’s tale. It must be your gestures and facial expressions that drew the audience in.
At this point in the story, it seems to have been established that the dove would only coo about the events of the goddess’s day truthfully. One day, the lord of flowers must have grown tired of its cooing and left the dove on a branch, promising to come back for it. Then came a group of children.
“‘Little dove, little dove, sing us a tale!’ They cheered.
So the dove, chest puffed with a sense of being wanted, sang the details of the day lived by its goddess. However, halfway through the children began to walk away.
‘Wait, wait!’ The dove cried. ‘I have not finished.’
‘No more! Your tales are far too boring.’
‘Boring?’ Thought the dove, ‘but it’s the truth.’
Alone once more the dove gaze longingly at the marketplace in front of it. Eyes peeled for the goddess that promised to return.
It watched a child drop a piece of flatbread which was then swiftly picked up by a mouse. A cat ran away from a dog that yapped nonstop. Merchants calling people over to their stalls, blacksmiths wiping the sweat from their eyes, and a sumpter beast resting near the edge.
An idea strung into the mind of the dove, as it used its wings to find the children.
‘Children! I have a new tale to tell, oh will you please listen to it?’
Resting on the lap of one of the children, the dove began.
‘There once was a mouse who followed the crumbs of bread left by a small child, straight into the watchful eyes of a cat! With a squeak, the mouse ran from the cat as the feline gave chase.
Only for the cat to step upon the tail of a dog, who howled in pain, then began running after the cat who ran after the mouse. The dog’s clumsy body knocked over a basket of spices that belonged to a merchant, causing the man to let out a cry of despair at his lost profits as he began to chase the dog who ran after the cat who was still running after the mouse.
The merchant in his rage failed to see the blacksmith, bumping into his arm causing the large man to brand himself with hot iron. The large man roared in pain, then began chasing the merchant who pursued the dog, who ran after the cat, who was hunting the mouse.
The blacksmith, still nursing his wound, stepped on the head of a sumptering beast, who raged after being awoken from its nap and began charging at the blacksmith, who ran as quickly as he could, causing the merchant to run faster. When the dog saw that the merchant was getting closer, he began to prance faster toward the cat, who let out a hiss as she ran after the mouse who still had the crumb in its mouth.’
Finishing the tale, the dove heard laughter ring out from the children.
‘What a wondrous tale,’ a familiar voice called out.
It was the goddess, who had returned to search for the little dove and wound up hearing the tale as well.
‘My little dove, will you coo more tales like this for me?’
Thus, from that day onwards the little dove would coo tales that brought new curiosity to the court where three friends met.”
You brought your hands in front of your torso, signaling the end of the story. Giving a slight bow as the patrons began to clap.
“So, can anyone guess what this story was trying to explain?” You finally revealed the question to the audience.
A chorus of answers began to ring out from eager scholars and nonscholars alike wanting to test their wisdom.
“Is it an analogy for how lies are more beautiful than truth?”
“No, it must be symbolizing the corruption of truth due to pressure!”
“Was it a warning to entertainers that if their patron gets tired of their ‘coo’, they’ll be abandoned?”
“No, mmm not quite, my that is a dark interpretation. Are you by chance okay, sir Maddah?”
As the ensemble of interpretations dragged on, you could tell the crowd was slowly moving toward the answer you were looking for.
“Oh! I know it! The story seeks to depict the origin of storytelling!” Kaveh exclaimed, one can only wonder when he had sat down at Alhaitham’s table and began ordering meals and drinks on the former scribe’s tab.
“Yes! Excellent! I knew a fellow aesthete would get the unwritten meaning!” You clapped and looked toward the blond man with a smile.
Great, you just inflated his roommate’s already overbearing ego. He could already see that baseless confidence travel its way up Kaveh’s face as he proudly huffed. After you had thanked the audience for being wonder listeners and for participating in your little mystery, you made your way to their table.
“So, what did you think of the story? Did you find its hidden meaning?” You sat down right in front of him, in the same spot as yesterday.
“Oh? Like what, how oral recordings of history become so marred and twisted throughout the years by many tongues to the point it is reduced to a mere story for a child?” Alhaitham picked right the debate right there, skipping the pleasantries. You let out a sigh, lips pouting a bit as you rested your head on one hand.
“My, not even a hello? None the else. Your claim from yesterday just got challenged.”
“How so?” He placed his cup down, attention solely focused on you now.
“That same Jinn created from a goddess’s reflection from yesterday’s tale made an appearance in this tale.” You remarked.
“Nonsense, these stories are not related, there was no mention of a Jinn. Plus, how can I be sure that you did not just craft this tale overnight when this debate was put on hold?” He crossed his arms, the wire of his headphones shifting slightly.
“It is quite the popular folktale among some of the desert settlements I have visited, the tale of the goddess of flower’s beloved dove, and if you were willing to look past the superficial surface you would have seen the clear indicator. Tell me scribe, what does the line ‘what a lovely thing you are, just as the same as I’, remind you of?”
Bringing one hand to tuck under his chin as he replayed that line in his head for approximately 5 seconds.
“It’s what one would say if they were complimenting themselves in front of a mirror.”
He saw you lift your head up a bit as the beginnings of a smile began to form on your lips.
“However,” he added, “it’s such a jump to an interpretation from a minuscule detail. Such things do not hold much merit. Ever heard of confirmation bias, the tendency to interpret things to align your preconceived beliefs? ”
“In the space where truths are recorded, there lies the space for truths not recorded. To interpret this space, one must naturally make some leaps of faith, often by relating the spaces between two written truths, one can find hidden knowledge take shape in that space.”
“So you are admitting that the interpretation is made up?”
“No, I’m simply saying that there is a hidden truth. I shall tell you the deeper meaning of this tale since you can’t seem to want to read between the lines. The story acknowledges that history passed through tales gets warped, evidenced by the tall tale spun by the dove about the mouse. However, the key events and characters remained immortalized in the dove’s story.”
Your food had arrived in front of you, but your eyes never left his. Even as the enticing scent of tahchin beckoned.
“The mouse was there, as was the cat, as was the merchant, and so on. As this tale continues to be passed down and hear, these events shall always be there. Through war, oppression, and persecution, that snapshot of time can still live through it all. Just waiting for someone to look past the surface and discover the past carefully encased by the cushion of folklore.”
“What a poetic view of children’s bedtime story of a dove that can talk.” Alhaitham went to pour himself another cup of coffee, just to enjoy the aroma as he would like to have a restful night of sleep.
“In the spaces where truths are left unrecorded each time one truth is, those truths are just forever lost to time. The question they raise is left unanswered. I have experienced this more than my fair share of times.” The scribe commented.
“What if stories and art serve to lead you to those answers?”
“What if they lead you further astray?”
And with that, the second act of this debate seems to have drawn to a close. Alhaitham pulled out a book, enjoying the peace that had washed over the table as you shifted your attention to the tahchin. Kaveh had long joined another table for a round of TCG.
“Dear scribe, can you answer me this? Have you read all text related to the history of Sumeru and its desert?”
Looking up from his book a bit peeved, he answers honestly. “I have not, but I have studied most.”
“So, your previous statement about how there is no record of the Jinn is incorrect. There is no record that you have read.”
“I have already read most.”
“But not all.”
He resisted the urge to press his lips into a thin line at the sight of you eating a spoonful of tahchin, a hint of smugness twinkled in your eyes. As if you had leveled out the rebuttals once more. It seems like this debate might drag on longer than he had anticipated.
Authors Note 2: Okay so this story is heavily based on an oc of mine, but I thought it would be more interesting to have it to make it about the reader. But if I feel like it (or if enough people are curious enough) I might post my oc, but this series and blog will stay as a reader insert bc it’s more fun that way no?
#alhaitham x you#genshin x you#genshin x reader#alhaitham x reader#genshin impact x reader#alhaitham x yn#alhaitham x y/n#genshin impact x you#al-haitham x reader#al haitham x you#al haitham x reader#al-haitham x you#vivalabunbunfics
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Dr. Encyclopedia
Flufftover Day 26: Coffee Shop
Spencer Reid x reader
Word Count: 1.2k
AN: I kind of went off prompt here, but I really like where it ended up. My requests are still open for things to write after October is done so send them in. Reblogs and Feedback are really appreciated. I'll see y'all tomorrow!
ps. all the facts in here were googled so they might be wrong, but who knows?
divider credit @royallaesthetics
You weren’t planning on spending your entire morning in the quaint little coffee shop that you walk past on your way to work, but the raging storm outside dictated that you wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. You had your work laptop and could do some of your tasks from pretty much anywhere, minus team meetings but you didn’t have one of those today. You sent off a quick text to your boss letting her know that you'd be avoiding arriving at the office sporting the drowned rat look and would be there when the rain let up. She had told you not to sweat it and that she’d see you when you got there.
A similar story to yours was playing out on the other side of the shop. A very fidgety Spencer Reid was on the phone with Hotch letting him know that he was stranded in the little coffee shop and bakery he went to every morning. Because Spencer didn’t like to drive, he walked this way to get to the train that would take him a block away from Quantico, but like you also was trapped by the torrential downpour lest he soak through his sweater and catch a cold.
“Hotch, it’s raining pretty hard here, I don’t think you want me trying to make it there in this weather.” You were unable to hear the other side of the conversation “Yeah, okay. Yes. Yes. Sir, I will bring you one of the muffins you like.” You let out a little chuckle at the handsome stranger’s negotiating skills.
“Boss man not happy?” you queried.
“Oh,” the man looked between his phone and you, “he’ll be okay. He loved the banana nut muffins from here.”
“Hmm. Did you know that the banana plant is the largest plant in the world without a woody stem? The trunk is just banana leaves intertwined around each other making a strong base.” You offered. You found that fun facts were a great way to break the ice, and if this man was to be your only real company besides the busy-looking barista behind the counter until the rain ended, you wanted to get off on the right foot.
“I did. Did you know that the first discovery of coffee’s stimulant effects was made by 15th-century goats?” He replied, nodding his head at the coffee cup you were holding.
‘Goats?” You asked.
“Yes, they were found by the locals in a small Brazilian town and were more energetic than the average goat, causing the coffee plant to be found and its use deduced.”
“Well, that is just about the funnest fact I’ve ever heard.” You told him, pushing your hand out to offer the man a handshake.
“Oh, I don’t shake hands. You transfer fewer germs by kissing than shaking hands.”
You put your hand down, “what is your name?”
‘Spencer Reid.” He handed you a business card with his name on it from somewhere on his body, you weren't sure. It was like it had just appeared.
You read the card. “FBI, huh? So you’re like real important aren’t you.”
‘I don’t know about that the FBI employs about 35,000 people across the US, I’m just one man.”
“One man, who knows a lot about caffeinated goats.”
“I know a lot about a lot of things.”
“Prove it.” You had challenged. With a raise of his eyebrow, he followed your instructions. For the next hour and a half the two of you sat at a small table in the corner of the shop, the only customers in the whole place. Rain beat against the windows and the light outside dimmed, being replaced with a sort of grey sheen that seemed to bathe the whole interior of the shop in a bittersweet melancholy.
Spencer and you went fact for fact, he was polite enough not to admit that he knew all of the facts you had presented already, or tell you that a few of them were wrong. He was astonished that you were willing to listen to his rambling for so long. The only person who could really stand to listen to him for a long period of time was JJ and her record was 45 minutes, you were going into hour two.
“So, Mr. FBI. How do you know so many wonderful things?”
‘I was kind of a lonely kid, I graduated early from every school I was in, and didn’t have many friends so I turned to books. And when you have an eidetic memory, you learn a lot of things.”
“I didn’t have many friends either,” you reassured him, not wanting him to stew in his vulnerability alone, “I taught myself all kinds of things. How to sew, how to make chicken cordon blue, growing vegetables.” you sighed sort of wistfully. “Looking back, they aren't very impressive skills but I love them growing up.”
‘I don’t know about not impressive, I’ve killed every plant I’ve ever owned.” Spencer admitted. “I think your skills sound pretty great.”
“Yeah? Well, I think being a walking encyclopedia is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”
The two of you just sat in the pleasant silence for a little bit. Both are a little shy after so many compliments. Spencer’s phone rang.
“Dr. Reid.” He answered giving you an apologetic look and standing up from the table.
Dr. Reid. He hadn’t told you he was a doctor, you want to know what his PhD was in. YOu wanted to know all about him, you wanted to know him.
“Reid, where are you?” Hotch asked.
“I told you that I was in the shop, I’d be there when the rain was over.
“Reid. The rain is over, the rain has been over for twenty minutes.” Spenser immediately shot his head towards the window of the shop. Hotch was right, there were still water droplets that clung to the glass, but the downpour had stopped. The clouds had passed and several rays of sunlight were beginning to seep into the space.
“I- I didn’t even notice. I’ll be there soon. With your muffin.” Spencer hung up before Hotch could reply. He turned back to the table the two of you had taken up.
“Did you notice that the rain had stopped?” He asked. You also looked out the window. You let out a soft chuckle.
“No, I didn’t. How long has it been done?”
‘According to Bossman, about twenty minutes.”
“Jesus. I guess we really got lost in our own bubble there.” You supplied
‘I guess we did.” Spencer lingered. It had been years since he met someone who was able to keep his attention like that. “Would you um, would you like to get coffee again sometime?” He asked.
You couldn't fight the beaming smile that took up the bottom half of your face. “I’d love to. Dr. Reid.”
“Okay, Yeah. Good. Umm, call me?” Spencer bumbled, reaching for the brown paper bag that held Hotch’s muffin and grabbing his satchel bag from the back of his seat.
“I will.” You lifted up the card he had given you in between your fingers. “I definitely will.”
Spencer backed out of the shop, looking at you the entire time. And only when he was out of your eyeline did he let himself celebrate. He would have to tell Morgan, this would definitely get him off his back.
You saved Spencer’s number in your phone, under Dr. Encycolpedia, and started counting down the minutes to when you’d be able to call him. You really wanted to get coffee again.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#plus size reader#plus size!reader#fluff#fanfic#flufftober#drabble#x reader#requests open#requests wanted#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfiction#dr spencer reid#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x plus size reader#spencer reid fic
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Same as it ever was
"Ugh, this coffee is awful!" Daniel makes a face after he takes a sip. "What is this, hazelnut? Did the person who signed off on this flavor ever try a hazelnut in their life?"
"Come on Dan, it can't be that bad." M'erian rolled her eyes and flicked her ears.
Dan sipped it again and winced. "No, seriously Mer, if you could drink coffee I'd have you try this. It's impressively bad."
"Is that why you keep drinking it? Out of some sense of admiration for someone who could make coffee that bad?"
Dan shrugged. "It's still caffeine. There isn't anything else onboard until we reach a Starbase and resupply. Maybe some creamer will help." Dan gets up and bustles in the kitchenette. A moment later, his coffee noticeably more buff colored, Dan returns to the seat. He sips again and frowns, but is no longer wincing. "That will have to do."
M'erian sipped her tea and enjoyed her time listening to Dan complain. He did it often enough that she was thankful she found it charming instead of annoying.
While they were chatting, Uumer walked in. They were a Sefigan, from this universe, and Daniel was still surprised when he saw them. He could only describe them as looking kind of like teddy bears.
Teddy bears with retractable ten centimeter claws. They were lacquered a deep blue and highly polished.
“You are making a gesture Daniel, I recognize it from the humans in our world. What is wrong?”
“It’s his coffee” M’erian gestures “It tastes terrible.”
Uumer’s ears twitched. “Oh? You can consume caffeine? It is highly toxic for us.”
M’erian shakes her head, a human gesture. “No, but Daniel was telling me about it. It’s ‘hazelnut’ and he doesn’t like it.”
“No, it’s called hazelnut. It tastes nothing like actual hazelnuts. I think you can consume them M’erian, I’ll see if I can get some next time we’re at a station.”
"Daniel, I apologize for the quality of the coffee, it was ordered by Captain Reynolds." Universal Solvent sounded apologetic. Captain Reynolds was the previous captain on Solvent. For this trip, it was just Daniel ,M’erian, Uumer, a few more Coalition races and Solvent themselves.
Daniel made another face. “Did he like this? Or was he just trying to punish his crew?”
“I seem to recall him saying it was his favorite. I also seem to recall that most of the other human crew members brought their own coffee with them.” A tone sounded throughout the ship. “Daniel, M’erian, Uumer. I must ask you to retire to your acceleration couches on the Command Deck. I am alerting the rest of the crew as well. Maneuvers will being in one hour.”
Sighing, Daniel finished his terrible coffee, and takes the time to rinse out the cup and secure it in the cabinet. They make their way through the empty ship.
Universal Solvent is a Starjumper, one of the largest human built ships in space. Only the dozen or so colony ships built for humanity to spread out in space were larger. One of the reasons it’s so large is that their design predates the development of wormhole generators. They were originally designed to ‘jump’ between the stars at half the speed of light with passengers in hibernation and enough cargo to make the trip worthwhile. These days they all have wormhole generators installed and can link from location to location like any other craft, but they’re still seen as high status spacecraft.
And sometimes they’re the only ones that can do the job.
Like, for example, if one wanted to demonstrate a relativistic impactor to the Gren. Daniel was surprised to learn that the humans in this universe developed their version of the wormhole generator - called a Flip Drive - before they ever needed to develop relativistic flight. They don’t have Starjumpers and never needed to accelerate towards the speed of light.
After the Gren came through the Gate, they fought the humans and K’laxi on that side to a standstill. The truce was tenuous and it was decided that a demonstration was needed to remind the Gren - and the Coalition - what the humans from Daniel’s dimension could do.
Daniel thought it was all a little bit dramatic and overblown, but at least they were just going to strike a planetoid in the Gren’s system. Long range scans had indicated that it was dark and cold and wasn’t a secret base or anything. Just a large rock.
As Daniel was secured in his acceleration couch, he connected to Solvent and made sure everyone else was secure. Solvent had inertial compensators, but at the speeds they were going, even a slight error in compensation would cause damage or death to anyone outside the safety of the couch. It was a bit of work to get the Sefigans and other Coalition species to interface with the couches, but humanity’s experience with the K’laxi helped.
“Daniel, everyone is in their chairs and secure. We can begin when ready.”
Connected to Solvent, Daniel was able to look through their sensors. They were currently boosting at 2gee and running at around 75% C. “Okay Solvent. We’re going to do to links back to back, so we’ll need War Emergency Power. Do you want me to say the phrase?”
“Only if you want to Daniel. I know how to work my own reactors.”
Daniel chuckled. In the old days, Captains would order the ship AI to release War Emergency Power, which would disable all fuses and limiters to the reactors. This would give the ships a tremendous amount of power for a short amount of time. It also increased the risks of the reactors destroying themselves. These days, relations with AIs are better, and most commanders know that the ships know themselves better than the commanders do. Ordering the release of War Emergency Power is seen as a bit old fashioned. “I’m good Universal Solvent. Please use your own discretion vis a vis power.”
“Aye Daniel. I will be releasing War Emergency Power for the duration of the exercise.”
At that, Daniel could feel, rather than hear the reactors. There was this noise or feeling that set his teeth on edge. It rose in tone and intensity until it almost sounded like a whistle at the edge of hearing. Uumer reached out over the ship’s comm channel “What is that noise? Is something broken?”
“Nothing to worry about Uumer, I have removed the fuses and limiters from my reactors. I need the additional power for our maneuvers.”
“You can do that?”
“Oh yes, but the risk of critical catastrophic failure is much higher now. Once we’re done, I’ll take things back to normal.”
Uumer didn’t say anything, but Daniel could feel how impressed he was.
“Daniel, we will link in 10 seconds.”
“Thanks Solvent. Once we’re back in real space, release our impactors and drop camera beacons. We’ll then link back and begin braking.”
“Aye. 5 seconds.”
They Linked.
One of the things that humans of this dimension don’t like to mention is that while their wormhole generator is considered to be much more accurate and robust than a Flip drive, it does require quite a bit more power and also has this… side effect.
About one in one thousand people who use the drive experience something like death while they’re in between points of reality.
Humanity on this side has been dealing with it for nearly a millennium and by now is mostly used to it. Sure, it frightens folks when it first happens, but like they say, you’d be surprised what you can get used to.
In fact, it’s so commonplace that they often forget to tell people that it happens.
Uumer is on his back. He feels the warm grass and bright sun. Blinking he sits up. It looks like… home. More than that, it looks like his homeworld, or at least the descriptions of it that he’s read. He’s never been there. He’s on a wide savanna. In all directions is a sea of golden grass. As he stands, a breeze picks up and the grass undulates and moves like water. Someone approaches. Another Sefigan. “You made it!” They throw their arms forward and tumble towards him in greeting. Bewildered, but happy to see someone like him, he reciprocates the gesture, a traditional greeting. “Thank you brother, but where am i?”
The other Sefigan’s ears waggle. “Brother, you are dead.”
Uumer comes back, strapped into his acceleration couch. He blinks back tears. In the moment he’s struck by a thought. The humans keep their eyes clean this way too, they also cry. “D-Daniel.” Uumer’s voice is unsteady. “What happened?”
“Uh, we linked into Gren space Uumer. We just released the camera beacons and the impactors. We’re going to link away in a second. Can your question wait?”
“Yes.”
They link away.
When they’re back in human controlled space, Solvent begins the long deceleration process. It’ll take another month to slow back down relative to their departure and be able to link to another starbase. The camera beacons caught the demonstration perfectly. The three impactors struck the planetoid at 75% C and completely obliterated it. Supposedly the flash was seen with unaided eyes by the Green Fleet Command themselves. Publicly, they declared it an unwarranted provocation. Daniel will have to wait until they’ve come to a halt and linked home to learn what - if anything - they said privately about it.
After all the excitement calms down, Uumer goes to find Daniel. He’s back with M’erian in the lounge and they’re snuggled together watching something on his pad. “Uh, Daniel?”
Daniel looks up with a start. “Oh! Hi Uumer, what did you think of the run?”
“I uh, had a question about that actually. You know that was my first link ever?”
“Oh that’s right, you would have Flipped or FlashWarped over to the starbase.” His eyes go wide. “Oh no, did you…”
“I did Daniel. Did I actually die?” Uumer’s claws are sliding in and out of their sheaths.
“Uh well, nobody really knows. It happens to us too, and the K’laxi-“ He starts idly stroking M’erian. “-but our philosophers can’t come to an agreement about whether it’s real or not.”
“Does it happen to you?”
“No, fortunately. It’s only about one in one thousand that it happens to.”
Uumer is shaking slightly, “and you’re okay with that? With a small percentage of people dying when you use the wormhole generator?”
“Uumer. For one, they all come back. For two, most report that other than the surprise, it was a pleasant experience. And for three, we’re not about to give up on a way to shrink the distance between the stars over something like that. It’s fine.”
“Uumer, it’s a scary thing. Some people in my familiar group experience it too. But really, it’s normal here. Everyone gets used to it, and if they don’t then…” M’erian’s ears flick. “They make other arrangements. They either stick to worlds they can reach via Gate, or stay in one system, or hibernate for the trip. There are options. Especially now that you and the Coalition is here. We can see if we can work out FlashWarp technology, or build our own Flip drives.”
Uumer looks at both of them. How comfortable they look. How much they enjoy being together. He’s overcome with a flash of jealousy and disgust. His ears droop. “I thought I understood humans and that over here they’d be the same as over there. I’m beginning to wonder about that.” He turns and leaves the lounge.
M’erian and Daniel share a look. He shrugs and smiles and flicks her ears and they go back to their video.
#humans are deathworlders#writing#humans and aliens#jpitha#humans are space oddities#humans and ai#sci fi writing#the k'laxiverse#the grenverse#humans are space orcs#humanity fuck yeah#hfy
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giving you full rein on the kid fic dialogue ask and suggesting maybe something from the toddler ask? you can pick a child and parent combo from anything you like ~
THIS WASN'T EVEN THE FINAL ASK BUT I AM SO LATE AAAAH sorry you know how much I love my babies thank you for encouraging me 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 I'm gonna be super predictable now!
Kid/Parent Dialogue Prompts
4. "With the rate uncles/aunts/grandparents/friends are buying stuff for you, you will be the most spoiled kid ever"
"Do you ever get the feeling that they're going to grow up as the most spoiled kids ever?"
Emma glances at August with her eyebrows raised, quietly puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
Technically, they should be getting coffee like the grown adults, friends-who-rarely-get-to-catch-up that they are, but since there is a distinct lack of free, unaccompanied time in both of their lives now, what they're actually doing is drinking their coffee at the outside tables of Granny's while their sister and daughter respectively entertain each other. Of course, it was clear within minutes that the girls had no intention of doing so - Apple is currently burying her hands in the potted plants, alone, while Cedar is nowhere to be seen, having long since wandered into the bowels of the diner.
That doesn't seem to bother August much, however, because he continues, undeterred: "You have possibly the largest extended family in town- how much stuff have people bought for your sister, Raven or Sparrow, and how long has it been since you've heard anyone saying no to them? Because I am related to considerably fewer people, and our house is still full of kids' stuff, and I know Belle has the same problem with Rosa and Gideon."
He...has a point, actually. Emma has long since matured past the point of being jealous, but that doesn't mean she's blind - children are protected and splurged on for in Storybrooke, especially children she knows. Apple is likely the best dressed little girl in town, and the way Henry tells it, Raven and Sparrow own just about every toy that makes noise. Nobody in her family will grow up wanting for attention, that's for sure.
Still, there's a difference between agreeing with August and telling him that out loud. "Come on, I'm sure it's not that bad-"
It's at that moment, as if summoned by her comment, that Cedar shows up on Granny's front step, like a little bushy haired apparition. The girl trots over to them with what looks like a cup of pudding, spoon included, in one hand and a small sandal in the other - she offers it to August with a miniature frown, shifting her weight off her bare foot. "Daddy, I los' m' shoe."
"Wow, a sentence I've never heard before," August deadpans, though he still lifts his daughter onto his knee with practiced ease, only gesturing to her other possession once he's done wrestling said shoe back in its place. "Where did you get that, kiddo?"
Cedar grins at him, the wide, gap-toothed smile of toddlers all over the world - there are already smears of chocolate around her mouth, which means she must have gotten more than a taste of her treat by now. "Grampa."
"Of course you did." He pats her back as she hops off his lap, then turns back to Emma with a look and a gesture that scream What did I tell you? for all to see.
For her part, Emma simply rolls her eyes. "Alright, you've made your point. Look, if it bothers you so much, why don't you tell everyone to stop buying her stuff?"
"Did your mother listen when you tried to do that?"
"Point taken." She mulls it over for a bit, watching the little figure bound away, then says, distractedly: "Does letting them be the most spoiled kids ever include allowing them to run with a spoon in their mouth?"
August follows her gaze, then stands up with a muffled curse and chases after his daughter before she falls on her face. Emma barely stifles her laughter, grateful that at least she's not still losing the argument - for a moment there, both father and child looked entirely too smug for her liking, which tends to be the only expression where they share an uncanny resemblance.
She just hopes Cedar will lose that trait as she grows up. She doesn't think she could bear it, if she had two Augusts to contend with.
#lizardthelizard#ask meme#fanfic#ouat#au: ever after storybrooke#august booth#emma swan#cedar wood#ever after high#eah#I missed them so much that's why I couldn't decide on a prompt for so long ajvajshsnsjdns
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Hyacinth and Hollyhock
Part 3 of "Peonies and Poplars"
Masterlist | Part 1
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: mentions of throbbing members lol
Shit, shit, shit. She was in deep, unending shit. The man sitting across from her was incredibly intimidating, especially when she wasn’t expecting to see him today…or ever again. R.J. White was the author of Aelin’s favorite book series, Tales of Flowers and Fortitude, which featured three books that had the most incredible world building and heartachingly beautiful romance. If she was being honest, Aelin would have said that R.J. White had to have been a woman since the experience and prose in the book series was unmatched. But now, Aelin knew she was wrong.
She was so, so wrong.
Because R.J. White, who was currently sitting across from her in the cozy coffee shop she frequented, was the biggest asshole known to the universe. He was arrogant, toyed with people for fun, and chose to be a haughty, pompous, pig-headed, condescending–
“So, we meet again.”
Pretty. Did she mention he was pretty?
No. No! She was not going to go down that road. Even if his voice sounded deep as the depths of the largest ocean and his cologne smelled of the pine woods Aelin so loved. She was not going to get caught up with this beautiful, brash, irritating, stupid, asshole–
“Miss? Are you with me?” A tan hand waved at her, causing embarrassment to overtake the flush of her cheeks.
Aelin once again snapped to attention at the sound of his voice. Shit. “Oh! Sorry, it’s just been a busy day.” The lie fell flat even to her own ears. It was barely 10am, the day hadn’t even really started. Aelin knew it. Aelin knew R.J. White also knew it. And it seemed like R.J. White also knew that Aelin knew.
“O…kay. I can just find a different seat if I’m a bother, sorry. I just thought…” He shook his head, “Nevermind. I’ll just let you get back to your book.”
“No!” What!? Why on earth did she just say that? She thought. Yes, you absolutely should find somewhere else to sit. “No, you can stay here, it’s fine. I’m just a little out of it today.” It seemed like she truly was since her mouth was saying things she didn’t want it to say.
R.J. gave a noncommittal hum and a small smile and set his still-full coffee cup back down on the table. “So, what did you think?”
“What did I think?” Aelin’s brows furrowed. “Of what?”
R.J. gave a huff of breath and a slight uptick of the corners of his mouth. “Of the book, of course.”
“You want to know what I thought of the book?”
“Well…yes? That’s what I said.”
“Oh, well, it’s good, I guess.” She looked down at the blue cover of her book and the vibrant pink bookmark she attached. Her brows furrowed. Why did he want to know about her book? “I’m not done yet and the main character is a little annoying but the smut makes up for it, I think, since that’s basically the plot of the story.” Aelin let out nervous laughter. “I mean, the author describes everything in such detail and it’s pretty good without being completely raunchy. There are some positions in here, though, that I’m just wondering if they’re real or if the author just thought it would sound poetic. But do I really need to know that the guy has a 10-inch co–”
R.J. cleared his throat. “I actually meant Peonies and Poplars but I will keep this book in mind if I ever need ideas.” Amusement laced his tone and it looked like he was fighting back a smile.
Aelin’s mouth dropped in an “O.” “Oh. I just thought…” Aelin’s cheeks heated again. Of course he was talking about his book, not the random smutty book she happened to pick up from a clearance rack. “I’m so sorry. I just am not in my element today, I guess, and not used to people chatting with me while I’m reading..”
“Reading smut in public will do that to you.” A laugh laced his words. “Especially when the male lead has such a spectacular…appendage.”
Aelin groaned. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those authors that uses ‘appendage’ as a synonym for ‘cock.’”
“Since you’ve read my work, you know that I don’t.” He looked all too gleeful at her statement yet she could’ve sworn there was a slight tint to his tan cheeks. “I’d obviously rather use throbbing member or meaty manhood.”
Aelin snorted so hard, she could feel the slight burn of the coffee she was sipping coming back up her nose. And of course, since she was Aelin and since this conversation was going so well this burning in her nose also started a coughing fit. R.J. looked slightly concerned for a second before amusement took over his features. Once she got herself under control once again, she said the only thing she could think of at the moment. “Please. Please with sprinkles and cherries on top, please never say either of those words again.”
His laugh was deep and his smile truly lit up his already handsome face. Smiling like that, though…he looked younger, more relaxed. More handsome, if she wanted to wander back down that road again.
“Okay, deal. But only if you tell me your name.”
She held her hand out. “Aelin.” He took her hand and she couldn’t help but notice how his callused hand felt against hers. Dare she say her hand fit perfectly in his. How cliche of her. “ Should I call you Mr. White or R.J?”
“Neither actually.” His voice got slightly lower. “My name is Rowan. Rowan Whitethorn.”
“Ah. I see where the R and the White came from. Is the J a middle name?”
“It sure is. James. Rowan James Whitethorn.” He fiddled with his nails, as if revealing this part of himself to someone who also knew him as R.J. White was something he rarely did.
“Well Rowan James Whitethorn, what made you take the pen name?” She kept her voice low, just in case anyone could overhear. Rowan seemed like a private person, someone who didn’t like the spotlight.
“I just like my privacy. That's why I don’t have any pictures of myself on my books or on my website.” He shrugged. “I know how intense some people can get about their fantasy books and this gives me at least a little bit of a normal life.”
“What about doing interviews and book conventions and things?”
“I just don’t do them. My agent always has me sign books before they’re sent out as a special edition and she takes care of the blurbs that are sent out. All interviews are done via email or video chat but the interviewer is always sworn to secrecy. And they usually don’t know my real name to even look me up. It’s not like I have any personal social media anyway.” He shrugged, not fully confident in admitting this, yet he wasn’t shying away from eye contact, either.
Aelin pondered this for a second, trying to come up with the nicest way of asking what she wanted to know. She decided that Rowan seemed like someone who valued directness. “Can I ask you why? I mean, imagine how great the publicity would be and I’m sure you’d get a lot more deals and recognition if you showed the world your pretty face.”
“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Aelin rolled her eyes at that while Rowan just chuckled. “I don’t know. I just want people to focus on my writing and what they feel about the story rather than me as a person. I understand that it is a detriment to promotion and future book deals but my agent and I have worked it out so that I get my privacy and she handles all the extra stuff. She’s pretty awesome.”
“I get it. Really. I’m a middle school teacher and these kids pry endlessly about my life. So much that I consistently make up lies about how interesting my weekend was and use my first and middle name as my social media handles instead of my last.”
Rowan chuckled. “I can totally see you as a middle school teacher. Those kids wouldn’t get away with a lick of trouble with you watching over them. And let me guess which subject you teach…english? Or reading? Something along those lines.”
Aelin rolled her eyes again, the perfect confirmation that Rowan was correct.
“Knew it,” he laughed. “And since you asked me a bunch of questions, now it’s my turn.”
Aelin gave him a scathing look. “One. You can ask one question.”
“Five.”
“Two.”
“Deal.”
Rowan rubbed his hands together, contemplating what he was going to ask. “First question: what’s your middle name?”
“That’s what you want to ask?”
“It’s only fair that I know yours since you know mine.”
Aelin sighed. “Fine. It’s Ashryver.”
“Ashryver?” From Rowan’s slight accent, the single word sounded like two -Ash River- rolling off his tongue. But Aelin nodded nonetheless.
“It was my mom’s maiden name. So instead of giving me a full middle name, she and my dad just used her maiden name.” Aelin shrugged. “It’s kind of nice, having that piece of her.”
Rowan just gave her a small smile and nodded, sensing the sadness in her tone.
“Ok, what’s your second question?”
Rowan rubbed at the stubble along his chin. “Question number two…hmm.” She could tell the moment that he thought of his question since his eyes sharpened in on her like a hawk’s. “Well, Aelin Ashryver, why haven’t you put my number to good use yet?”
A/N: Here's part 3. And you guessed it, there will be a part 4. I'm hoping to wrap this one up because this chapter was really fighting with me. But I have an idea where it's going so it'll hopefully be a satisfying ending!
Tagging: @cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @mariaofdoranelle @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @athena127 @tothestarsandwhateverend @highqueenofelfhame
#rowaelin#rowaelin fanfic#rowaelin fanfiction#rowaelin fic#rowan whitethorn#Aelin galathynius#throne of glass#throne of glass fanfic#throne of glass fanfiction#rowan x aelin#my fic#my fics
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Why do People Bond Over a Cup of Coffee?
Hasn’t having a cup of coffee together become a universal symbol of bonding? It is a more casual activity over which people develop a conversation and get to know about each other. It is one of the most common approaches globally to ask someone out even when the primary motive is not to drink coffee? But why is it that it’s always “Shall we have a cup of coffee someday?”
Coffee is more than just a drink
It really is! It’s not just considered a warm, creamy & delicious beverage but sometimes a conversation builder where people make small talk, discover each other’s taste and figure out their compatibility. The arousing aroma and the strong taste make coffee a perfect mood setter. It develops a pleasant feeling with every sip making the conversation more amusing and enjoyable.
Two things that go great together: coffee and meaningful conversations.
Coffee is all bout socialising
The concept of socializing over a cup of coffee has been around for ages. Be it a casual meeting with your friend or a business discussion with a client, having it over a cup of coffee has become more common in modern society. This has led to increasing number of coffee houses commonly called café globally. Cafés have become a major hub spot for people to meet, speak and network bringing people closer to each other.
Cafés have become the third home
Cafés have greatly revolutionized the social setting by enhancing the elements around the coffee experience making them the third home after their home and workplace. The corporate culture has seen a great influence from the café revolution by bringing work and coffee together. Cafés have blended the elements of work and coffee making it a perfect place to have a business discussion, work in solitude or have a break. Starbucks and Café Coffee Day are great examples of the café revolution.
Coffee bonds people with themselves too
Coffee not only brings people together but also brings them close to themselves. Millions of coffee lovers around the world enjoy their morning sip of coffee in solitude as a routine before setting out for their day. Coffee not only bonds two people but also people’s bodies with their souls. Coffee lovers see coffee more as a fuel to their body and a companion to their soul bringing harmony to the both.
Interesting facts about coffee that you need to know
Brazil is the largest producer of coffee in the world producing 1/3rd of the world’s coffee.
Coffee is one of the most consumed drinks in the world.
Coffee is actually a fruit and coffee beans are seeds.
The most effective time to consume coffee is between 9:30 am to 11:30 am.
Coffee was originally chewed before it was consumed as a drink.
Coffee has become a social element in today’s world. It is not only one of the most consumed drinks but also the most influential drink globally bringing people together. A cup of coffee can add spark to both your day and date. Grab your partner to the nearest café and bond over a cup of coffee.
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