#and i've got more in store. at the very least more ideas
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leon kennedy x fem!reader
!MDNI!
cw: smut, p in v, reader a little traumatised, vanilla and protected, swearing. idk how to do this
summary: reader meets leon, her possible future boss, in a bar with jill and chris.
notes: this is my first time writing smut, did proofread and edit before publishing, if u have any ideas for improvement just dm me x
words: 2.1k
i sit at the bar, leaning over to ask the bartender for a pink gin. what can i say, it looks pretty. my friend went home with some girl already, leaving me with myself at 10.30 at night.
it's fine. it's whatever. i could meet someone. i could have fun.
"hi there."
a guys takes the stool next to me.
i smile. he's cute. he has light, silver-y hair, parted to the side in a messy style. very much, my type.
"hi there." i respond lightly. i might be little drunk.
"i'm leon. what's your name?" he asks, putting an elbow on the bar to tap his fingers on his wood. i have to stop myself from giggling.
"y/n... are you going to buy me a drink?" i twirl my my hair lazily and leon almost copies my movements, brushing his hair back with his left hand. i wonder if he has a bald spot.
"of course. what are you having?"
"well, i'm actually looking to try something new. ive been drinking gin since i was 16. what would you recommend?"
"well, for a pretty girl like you, id have to say a cocktail. vodka, maybe... sex on the beach?"
...
"you work in the bsaa? i literally applied there yesterday!" i laugh. "yeah, well, kind of. i work with them in the dso."
my mouth drops a little in shock. "no way, you're leon kennedy? one of the—"
"founders, yes." leon sighs, laughing. "i really didn't expect all of this to come up when i decided to come talk to you."
i stop and blink a little. i forgot what he was really here for, at least for a moment. "well, shit. sorry. i mean like.. we can still go somewhere, if you want." his eyes widen a little. "no, no i'm sorry. i like talking to you. i was going to ask for your number- my friends are still here." he signals to a table in the corner of the bar. a man and a woman laugh together as they drink.
i smile. "oh, i've been keeping you from them."
"not at all, they told me to talk to you - encouraged me."
"well i hope you don't have a bet going, because i was starting to like you."
leon laughs. "really?"
"don't be smug. do you still want my number?" it feels so normal. "yes."
i wrote it out on a napkin and gave it to him.
"can i meet your friends? that guy is pretty hot." i tease him, making him bit his lower lip. a tinge of jealously emanates off of him. "i thought the girl would be more your type." he replies. i nod. "she is."
i follow leon to the table. he introduces me.
"this is y/n." he says to them. "hi. it's nice to meet you." i reply. "that's chris redfield, and that's jill valentine."
"hi." the girl says to me. oh my god, she is actually really gorgeous. "sit with us." she says, opening the seat next to her as leon takes a seat next to chris. i look at chris. he makes eye contact for a second, then looks away as he drinks his beer.
"i love your jacket." i tell jill. she's wearing black leather, i'm assuming faux based on her haircut.
"thank you, i got it from a thrift store, i think..." she replies. knew it. "i love your top. it's really sexy." she says. i look down. i'm wearing a black mesh top with a black bra underneath. "oh shit. i really forget whenever i wear this shirt.. then wonder why everyone is staring at my tits." i take a drink. i notice jill looking at my tits for a second before clearing her throat. "totally. i see the appeal." she says. then she puts a hand to her head in embarrassment. i laugh. "you're very brave."
"chris, y/n said she was applying to the bsaa." leon changes the subject, turning to me. "he works there right now."
i straighten up my posture, "oh well, i hope you forget everything i do tonight and put in a good word for me."
chris nods. "I'll ask about you." he replies. i feel a bit shouldered. is he emotionally unavailable? is that why i'm so attracted to him?
"what do you do, now?" jill asks me. "i was in the airforce, for just about 4 years." i say. "i've been kind of working a bunch of different jobs, i was in the nypd, until last month."
"airforce. you hear that chris?" jill laughs a little, looking at me. "i was in the airforce as well, when i was younger." chris elaborates. "what base were you?"
"active duty. but honestly, they kind of kept me behind the scenes. i can fly a jet, but i guess i'm just better on a computer."
"see, us girls gotta stay together." jill pushes my shoulder. jesus christ, how many drinks has she had?
"yeah, of course. girl." i smile. "what do you guys do?" leon spluffs. "oh, you know. just bsaa stuff. bioterrorism, security..." he trails off. "what are the two a's again?" he asks chris. he laughs a bit, letting out a little sigh.
...
by around 12am, i start to feel exhausted. we've been talking and drinking for hours, and i just want to... i don't know. go home? but i want to stay with them at the same time...
i check my watch. "it's getting pretty late. i think i might go home." i look at chris for a reaction. he does give me a look of respect, i know when to stop.
"no way, you've drank way too much. i'll call you a cab." leon protests.
"no, no, i only live like a mile from here."
"then i'll walk you home." he insists. i smile. "really? you'd do that?" jill and chris talk in the background. leon smiles in return. "yeah. of course."
i nod.
he walks me out the bar, at one point placing a hand on the small of my waist at one point, making me let go of consciousness.
"you know, i'm staying just down that way." he points with two fingers to a lane next to us. "if you want, you can stay at my place for the night."
my face totally flushes. "um, i wouldn't mind that." not the first time ive fucked someone i met the first night after meeting them. leon's nice though. i think he would call me.
"okay.. good." he says. he turns to me for moment, looking into my eyes. then, kisses me softly. i feel blood rush to my brain in satisfaction and arousal.
"thanks for coming to talk to me tonight. i probably would have left if you didn't." i tell him, putting my arms around his neck as he lets go of my ass... when did he managed to slip his hands there??
he leads me down the streets, his hand around my waist as he flirts shamelessly. then as he's about to open the door to go inside, he stops and looks at me.
"this isn't.. going too fast, or anything, right?"
"i'm fine with it as long as you are. we don't have to do anything you don't want to."
"no, no- i want to. i want to." he almost whines. his tone makes me smile. "good." i repeat him, kissing him again as he fumbles to get the door open.
he tastes like liquor.
i clear my throat, leaning into him. "can i go freshen up?"
he stammers a bit, face red. "yeah, the bathroom is down the hall to the left." he says. i nod, kissing him again before going. i wash under my eyes a bit for makeup, do my business, wash my hands again, then go back out.
leon is on the couch, tv on. he's put on closer. one of my favourites that i mentioned in the bar!
"oh my god, this movie is so sexy." i say, sitting down next to him. "well, i wanted to see what the fuss was about." he says, leaning back and taking a smoke.
"natalie portman, is the fuss." i say, placing my head next to his shoulder on the couch. "wow. you're right. they are all hot." leon laughs a bit, putting a rough hand on my thigh. he draws circles with his thumb over my skin. i look up at him, biting my lip.
i start unbuckling his jeans quickly, kissing him again, this time it looks sloppier, messier. "fuck, y/n." he groans as i palm him through his black calvin kleins. "these are hot.." i comment. "did you know you'd come home with someone to fuck tonight?" i ask innocently. he denies it. "wanted you as soon as i saw you."
i take off the mesh top jill complimented earlier. leon runs his hands all over my hips, waist and plays with the straps on my bra. i take off his shirt before he can do anything with my bra, then strip down my skirt as he pulls down his trousers. he lies sideways on the couch as i crawl over him, kissing his neck, trying to find the spot that makes him moan the most. "do you.. do you have a condom?" leon breathes out.
"yeah, hold on." i say, turning to the side of the couch with my bag leaning on it, opening it rapidly to take out the condom.
i rip it apart, seeing as he's already hard, i put it over his dick without even thinking. it's pretty big. like 7 inches at least. leon fingers me from underneath me, pushing my thong to the side. i moan and kiss his chest, licking a strip from above his dick to before the little line of blond hair at his bellybutton. he loves that, gripping my hair and pulling it up a little. "should i give you head or something, before?" he asks quietly. i shake my head. "i'll be fine. thank you, though." i smile through kisses down his chest, his fingers brushing over my clit. i line myself up as leon takes out his fingers, sinking down on him as i grab onto him shoulders. he sits up a bit, taking my waist with two hands to guide me back and forth on his dick. i roll my hips, kissing him roughly as i run my hands through his hair, combing it through my fingers. his neighbours had to have been hearing us.
leon rubs my clit with one finger as i start lifting myself up and down on him, legs wrapped around him at this point for the best angle. "please, please say my name." he asks quietly. i smile. "what? i can't hear you, baby." i tease him, kissing his ear. he leans his neck back, kissing my lips. "say my name, y/n." he asks again, a bit more commanding this time. and perfectly, he hits my g-spot with a thrust. "leon.. ughh, leon." i moan softly, and he replies by digging his nails into my back. "can i go on top.." he asks a little shy. i nod, letting him push me into my back, landing my head flawlessly onto a loose pillow. he pushes into me again, going significantly faster as he holds up the back of my knees beside his hips.
i see his eyes close for moment, and i feel his dick twitch a little in me. is he about to cum? i can barely read his face.
"fuck, you feel so fucking good." he says. i lean my head back a little, encouraging him to drive as far into me as possible. "oh my god, leon.." i groan, grabbing onto the sofa, scratching the fabric. i moan loud as i cum.
leon quickly follows with a low guttural groan to pair with his stalled thrusts.
i give him a kiss as he pulls out, almost immediately passing out on the couch. he throws the condom in a trash can, collapsing next to me, still naked.
"that was good. you're really good at that." leon says, wiping his forehead a little. i smile, thanking him. "it wasn't your first time, right?" i joke. he laughs, shrugging. "first time having sex with someone i met the same night. also, first time having sex pretty drunk." he confesses, making me laugh a bit. "my apologies if i have trouble remembering this. if i get the job, i mean."
"fuck, i totally forget that you might be working for me in a week... don't mention it to HR, right?" he slides on his boxers again. "so, you're my dirty secret now?" i ask. "if it helps to think of that way, then absolutely." he puts his shirt back on. "you want something else to wear? can't imagine that's comfortable." he points to my tight lace bra and panties.
"if you got a big shirt, i'll take it. want to finish the movie?"
"sure, but you'll have to catch me up." leon smiles coyly.
#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy#resident evil fic#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy/reader#smut#first fic#one shot#resident evil smut#leon s kennedy#re4 leon
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Steve helpfully offering his hand to everyone boarding the boat, only to get ignored or unnoticed every single time. that’s it, that’s the post
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#nancy wheeler#fruity four#the fruity four#joseph quinn#joe keery#maya hawke#natalia dyer#stranger things#stranger things 4#stranger things 4 spoilers#gif#Liam's stuff#Liam whispers into the void#hello everyone guess i'm officially at the gifmaking stage of the brainrot now whoops#and i've got more in store. at the very least more ideas#also deepest apologies to my followers who did not came here for st content i swear i'll get back on my cql and ragnarok bullshit soon#hmm and actually now i'm overthinking my coloring choices here. somehow it looks worse than i thought it is but well#the initial darkness of this scene obviously didn't help with the quality either alas#anyway have some fruity four everyone#welcome onto the fruity four ship with me i'd love some good company#stedit
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hiii can i request a scenario like sometime before sukuna and reader got together like what pushed sukuna to ask reader out :)))
pls don’t be lonely, in time your anons will have emojis/names ^^
A/N: ugh i hate beta reading (im sorry if you find any typos or mistakes), and i hate how this turned out — definitely gonna rewrite another version for this request
"Alright, your total is coming up to $11.89 Would you like to pay with cash or card today?"
You cleared your throat, "Could you give me a second?"
"Of course!"
You turned away from the cashier to face Sukuna, who stood behind you, and probably playing some dumb video game on his phone. When he noticed your gaze on him, he looked up at you, raising a brow.
"We ordered two croissants, two drinks, and two cookies, right?"
Sukuna hummed
"So why is our total so low? We always get this as our order and it always costs more than $11.89."
Sukuna shrugged, "Why would I know?" Then, an idea came to Sukuna — his eyes lighting up. "How about . . . we don't say anything, that way we get to pay less. See? At least one of us has brain."
You frowned at that last part, "Says the one who literally tries to cheat off of me on every test we take. Anyways, that's not a good thing to do. If we did that, we would be making this business lose money. What if this store goes bankrupt because of us? I really like their croissants."
Sukuna was taken aback, were you really this nice of a person?
"No way. Are you stupid? This is the perfect way to save—"
You turned your back on Sukuna and faced the cashier, "I have a quick question."
"Yes?"
"We order this every time we come here and our total is always higher than just $11.89, is there any reason why it's lower today?"
Sukuna facepalmed after hearing you.
"Oh, right! I forgot to mention, we have a 35% discount for all couples today — in honor of Valentine's Day being right around the corner. You guys are together, right? As in you're dating?"
"We are—" Sukuna began, eager to get a discount, as he knew you were paying with his card — not that he minded spending money on you.
"We are not, actually," you finished his sentence.
Sukuna's chest tightened at your words. He didn't know why. You guys weren't actually dating, so why did he feel the need to say you were?
"Oh, my bad. I just assumed because you guys were ordering together. Sorry again," the cashier retyped whatever they had recently put in on their screen.
You laughed, "Don't worry about it."
-
"Grandpa, how do you know if a girl likes you?" Sukuna had called for a meeting in the dining room with Mr. Itadori — the grandpa in question. The pink-haired elder sat on his chair, with a cup of still smoking tea in his hands, taking occasional sips here and there.
Mr. Itadori laughed, a boisterous, and clearly very amused laugh. "You've had plenty of girlfriends, how do you not know?"
Sukuna winced at the deluge of memories, because the only reason he even had girlfriends before was to get you out of his head. You were the only one he ever thought of, ever dreamt of. You were the only one so unfortunate as to have him thinking of you night and day. Well, that's what Sukuna thought. You, on the other hand, had a different idea of him.
"I just," Sukuna scratched at his nap, "don't know."
"Well, boy. It can be a very easy thing to know. Or it can be a very hard thing to know. My best piece of advice is—"
Sukuna sat at the edge of his chair, impatiently waiting for his elder to advise him further.
"—you never know. You can never know."
Sukuna's mouth fell to his feet. "You've got to be kidding me — Grandpa, please. I need your help."
Mr. Itadori laughed, again, "You've asked me your question. I've answered your question. What more do you want?"
Sukuna grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to think. He didn't know what to feel. He didn't know what to do . . . about you.
-
This time, Sukuna had planned to meet with your parents, in order to further investigate and see if you had even a speck of feeling for him (besides friendship, of course).
"We've seen you two kiss before, a multitude of times actually. Why would she not like you?"
Sukuna immediately reddened in the face, "She's only kissed me on the cheek. And, ah, I've done the umm . . . same to her. I haven't done anything bad to your daughter, I swear — on my life." He held his hands up in a defensive manner.
"Relax, Sukuna. You seriously think we haven't seen your guys' photos from the photo booth at the fair last week? Besides, you're the only boy she has movie nights. You're the only boy she would ever work with on a group project. You're the only boy she ever talks about. You're the only boy," your mom said.
Sukuna gulped. "So, can I ask her to be my—" He winced. "—girlfriend?"
Your parents both sighed, "Kids these days. Always asking questions they already know the answer to."
Sukuna's heart hammered in his chest; this was it. He finally got his answer, the answer he's been dreaming of. Now here comes the hard part: figuring out what to do next.
-
"Wait, hold on Zoe. Sukuna just texted me," you turned your camera off in order to view your messages.
"Ooooh, it's Loverboy. How romantic of him to be texting you at 8pm on a school night. Shouldn't he be getting his Z's in, considering he's like, what, 80 years old?"
You laughed, "He's only a year older than us, he just got held back."
"Uh huh." You heard the squeak of a chair from the other line as [you assumed] Zoe leaned back in her seat.
Kuna
Hey
Meet me @ the beach
I need your help rq
You
Wtf??
Why the hell r u at the beacj at eight?
Kuna
Just get over here already
You rolled your eyes at his bluntness. "Sorry, girl. He needs my help with — actually, I don't even know what he needs my help for. Anywho, I'll call you back after."
"Sureee you will. After he kills you or something. Y'know, from the moment you introduced him to me, I knew there was something off about his demeanor—"
"Okay, bye!" You hung up the call and quickly slipped a pair of sneakers on.
When you pulled up to the beach, you saw a figure sitting on a bench with his head in his hands. You recognized said figure are none other than Sukuna.
"So, what's up?" You approached Sukuna.
He looked up, somewhat surprised to see you arrive so fast.
"Um—" He looked around, searching for something, before standing up quickly.
"You gonna tell me what's going on? Are do you want me to figure it out myself?"
"I'd rather you not do the latter."
"Oh my God, just tell me," you spoke, with an exasperated expression on your face.
Sukuna sighed, before thrusting a bouquet of roses (he's not that basic, he just didn't know what flowers you liked best, and was too scared to ask) into your arms, saying, "Be my girlfriend."
"Sorry — be your what?" Your mouth fell open in utter disbelief.
"My girlfriend," he muttered, now turned away from you; you could see the tips of his ears reddening. "Are you deaf or something, kid?"
Even when he was flustered he worked hard to keep up a cold attitude.
You regained your posture, clearing your throat, "Does that line work work with all the ladies? Is that how you get all your girls? Oh, please. 'Be my girlfriend'? What the hell, Sukuna? Is that seriously the best you've got?"
"Ugh, forget it." Sukuna stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket and began to walk away.
"Wait — I never said my answer was 'no'."
That made him turn around instantly.
"But I never said my answer was 'yes'," you teased, flashing a grin in Sukuna's direction.
"You're so annoying," he met you halfway.
"And you're such a silly goose," you booped him on the nose, earning a grunt in response. "Of course I'll be your girlfriend, 'Kuna," you stood up on your tippy toes and placed a chaste kiss on Sukuna's chapped lips.
As you pulled away, he brought you back in for another, more zealous kiss, this time. One of his arms wrapped around the curve of your waist while the other played with your hair; you placed your hands on his shoulders.
This was it.
Sukuna now knew what to do. Sukuna now knew what to say. Sukuna now knew what to think. Sukuna now knew what to feel. Sukuna now knew you.
Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lich1 @hannas16 @acroso
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I've got McCabe
Hi guys :)
So this is a request from here (never been so quick in my life) and I've never write with Katie before so I hope it would suit you all!
Enjoy :)
TW : Love fight, swearing, Nothing else I think
______________________________________________________________
Being Katie McCabe’s girlfriend is something you cherish in everyday life. Everyone knows her reputation on the football fields, and you will never deny the truth of this, but Katie obviously has good sides to tip the scales and drive you crazy about her.
Your little bickering comes mainly from her Irish origins of which she is very proud, while you are just as proud from your Scottish origins. You certainly don’t have a team as strong as England or even Ireland, but your talents have allowed you to be spotted by Arsenal for many years and this is where you still play today. Needless to say, where you met Katie.
For today, you don’t know exactly when your mutual teasing started. You have learned over time to respond to Katie when she starts teasing you, not wishing to leave her the last word every time.
The problem today is that neither of you seems to want to admit defeat. What started out as childish games is nicely being transformed into something else while a certain mutual annoyance is being felt on both sides.
Your teammates must have felt it, Leah grabbing Katie during the lunch break while you almost get kidnap by a Beth Mead apparently more than happy to show you pictures of her puppy. You can’t say that it didn’t work, you are literally a fan of this little cutie.
But after the lunch break, when the training started again, it only takes a little teasing from Katie to start again. And again, you don’t want to let it pass, there’s no reason why it’s always you who gives up, after all.
The limit is exceeded just at the end of the training, while Katie asks you to please go store her dumbbells with yours. Already having yours to carry and a ball in the other hand, you answer her that she only has to get up to do it herself.
"Well, at least Ruesha would have done it for me."
This one, it hurts.
You remain frozen a few seconds there before turning slowly in the direction of the Irish which seems to realize despite everything what she has just said. But Katie doesn’t add anything, just looking at you from the mattress she’s sitting on with wide eyes.
"Fuck you, Katie" you mumble coldly before disappearing from the room.
The idea of throwing the ball you hold in your hand on her head would have been tempting and you admit to having thought about it for a few moments. But you weren’t alone and it was out of the question for you to provoke a real scene with violence to the key.
"Mate..." sighs Leah once you leave the room.
"Wha' " grunts Katie without looking at the blonde.
"That was a terrible comment"
"Shut up"
In truth, Katie knows very well that she has crossed the line and she is very uncomfortable. Hurting you is never her intention, she has always been very careful with her behavior with you, treating you like a princess on a daily basis. Except when she decides to test your limits like today. It never went that far though.
Leah answers nothing, content to follow the brunette to the changing rooms to go shower and change. Katie frowns when she sees that you’re not there anymore and your stuff either.
"She left. Alessia brings her home. And you’re definitely going to sleep on the couch tonight" Kyra informs her before going to take a shower.
The information squeezes Katie’s heart, you live together, so it makes sense to travel together. But she particularly likes to see you in the role of HER passenger princess.
It’s with her mind elsewhere that Irish showers and changes, taking her time in seeking the best solution to fix things. However, it’s difficult for her to know what to do since she doesn’t know what treatment she will be entitled to once she arrives home.
Are you gonna yell at her? Ignore her? Are you even going to be there or will she be allowed a simple post-it on your fridge informing her that she just has to go to hell?
It’s not in a safe state that Katie gently open the door to your house. The living room is empty, but your sneakers are carefully placed on the shoe cabinet of the entrance, informing her of your presence at home. But you’re not in the part of the living room that she can see from where she is.
"Babe?"
Only silence answers her, which doesn’t particularly surprise her. You’re stubborn too and usually Katie liked that about you. But not today.
Sighing, Katie drops her bag at the entrance and walks a little further into the house. She finally finds yourself sitting at the kitchen table, apparently completely absorbed in your readings. Yes, because in addition to your training and games, you’ve been doing correspondence marketing studies. Just in case.
"Are you still angry?" Katie tries to get closer to you.
But you just answer her that a breath of the nose, without looking up from your book. If only she knew you couldn’t concentrate for more than ten seconds. You were really hurt by her remark, even if you think (hope) that she doesn’t think about it for a single second. What could be worse than being compared to her girlfriend’s ex by the principal concerned?
"Babe please, can we just…"
"Don’t fucking touch me McCabe!"
You jumped on your legs as she approached you, ready to put her hand on your arm. In your heart you obviously appreciated that she tries a reconciliation and that she tries to catch up, but it’s still too early for the moment. Your hands tremble with anger when you go to lock yourself in your room, slamming violently the door behind you.
********
"I don’t know mate, she seems really upset. She surname me!"
Katie walks around your backyard, whispering softly on the phone so you don’t hear her. She tried several times to knock on the door of your room but you never answered her, worse you even blocked the handle of the door so that she could not join you.
Leah, on the other end of the phone, has to admit that she is impressed by the strength of character with which you stand up to Katie. But Katie is still her friend and she obviously wants you to make up.
"At the same time, you compared her to your ex. Anyone would have taken it badly. I would have probably killed you."
"I know, Lee. But I can’t go back to the past, what do you want me to do?"
"Apologize?"
"She won’t listen to me, she won’t even let me in the same room as her."
"The good news is she didn’t strangle you" Leah comments with amusement.
"Not yet" answers Katie with a gloomy air.
"Let her calm down a little and in the meantime prepare an apology in good form"
"What do you mean?" asks Katie, mechanically looking up at your bedroom.
"Go get her some flowers, make her a candlelight dinner… what you know will please her."
"I have another idea" ended up answering Katie after a few seconds of reflection.
********
The night has fallen for a little while when almost timid blows are again thrown against the door of your bedroom. You sigh as you hear Katie’s voice rise from behind the door.
"I know you’re still very angry with me, but can you meet me at the livingroom please?"
You roll your eyes without answering, sitting on your side, back to the door. Now that the anger has dissipated, you realize that you were also hurt by the Irish comment. So you decide not to go. At least that was before you got a message on your phone.
Katie 🍀❤️
Baby please?
You let out a big sigh before you get out of bed. With your hands in yours (Katie’s) training pockets and your face frown, you finally leave your room. After moving the chair you had placed under the handle so that she could not enter.
When she hears your bedroom door open, Katie almost teleports to you.
"Can you close your eyes?"
"I’m not in the mood, Katie" you grumble in a low voice.
"Please" she whines.
You stare at her for a few seconds before sighing again and obeying. You let her take both hands to train you to the living room, stopping in the free passage left by the two sofas installed in the living room. Without letting go of your hands, Katie whispers
"You can open them"
You blink twice to regain clear vision and remain speechless in front of what was previously your living room. Katie installed cozy plaids and cushions on the sofa, she lit your fireplace and decorated the room with many Harry Potter goodies. You’re a fan of it, defending your house, Ravenclaw. Needless to say, the one you share your life with is from another house, which you confirmed when you forced her to take the test. Needless to say which one. (Slytherin)
On the coffee table Katie prepared bowls with several snacks and cups of hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows. Everything looks like one of those photos that are on Instagram. Well, almost. Because in these photos, there’s not Katie McCabe looking at you with as much apprehension as if you were a bomb ready to explode.
"I’m sorry I was stupid like that and I hurt you. I didn’t think about it and you have no idea how much I blame myself. I should never have said that when I haven’t thought about my ex in forever and even less since we’ve been together. I mean, of course we see each other when we’re training on the national team, but that’s it. She has nothing to do with you. I’m so sorry, Baby, I swear."
Katie rambles a little bit and you get to see the nervousness behind her clumsy speech. And it makes you feel terribly tender. Realizing that she still has your hands in hers, Katie gently pulls on it to draw you a little closer to her.
"I’m not just angry. What you said is hurtful, too, Kat."
"I know" she whispers, dropping one of your hands and putting hers gently under your chin. "But I don’t mean a word of it. No one can match you."
Your gaze in her blue eyes is enough to convince you of her sincerity and despair at the idea that you may not forgive her. It’s that side of Katie that you fell in love with as well, that part that she shows almost nobody. Katie is a loyal and attentive friend, which people know as well. But she is also a tender woman who enjoys cuddling with her girlfriend. You.
"I love you so much" she adds after a few seconds, pressing her forehead against yours. "Please, forgive me."
"Okay" you end up answering softly.
Her smile is so great of joy and relief that you can’t help but smile back.
"But on condition that we watch the first film" you add, pointing to the television with a nod.
"Anything you want."
Katie hurries to make you settle into the couch, perhaps doing a little too much by hurrying to bring a stool so that you can put your feet on it. But you let her, amused by her behavior. She then runs to dim the light in the living room, hands you a cup of hot chocolate and a glass of water if « the chocolate is too chocolate ». She tenderly wraps you in a plaid, asking if you want a cushion and arranges the food bowls so that you have everything near you.
"Are you missing something?" Katie asks, looking closely around her.
"Yes" you answer with a smile.
"What?"
"You."
Bowing an eyebrow, you lift a corner of the blanket in which you are wrapped so that she comes to settle next to you. What she does smiling, even accepting that you shift to allow her too to put her feet on the stool with you. After making sure again that you didn’t miss anything, Katie launches the film and you gently lean your head on her shoulder when she puts her arm around yours.
Ten good minutes passed when you look up at Katie’s face, lit by the lights of the television.
"Babe?" you call her gently, making her look off the screen.
"Yes?"
"I love you too."
A soft smile is born on her face and you would swear that it will remain there until the end of the evening. Including when she leans over you to kiss you right now, then every other time during the movie.
Katie McCabe may be a fool, but she’s your fool.
________________________________________________
So… Katie McCabe is a Slytherin, what do you think? 😂
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Proof of concept thorn tool. (Much better versions of) these are known throughout prehistory and were used to process plant fibers. I didn't know if they'd work well enough on milkweed to bother with, but now I have tried.
I probably need at least 30 thorns, and definitely longer ones. I was collecting and storing some in my rollator bag, and I think they might have been falling out because I definitely picked way more. But even like 7 or so very short ones bound together (badly) with flax was still, in fact, a far more effective tool than just my hands.
I only processed one milkweed stalk, since it was getting dark and this tool does absolutely suck, but I got it from whole rhetted stalk to fiber in about 10 minutes, and I think I could easily do 2 or 3 stalks at once and it would take the same.
I first smashed the stalk with a hammerstone against a wooden stump to get the hard pith out. The stone on wood technique is new to me but very effective. I'd been trying stone on stone (lack of available tree stumps to work on) and it hardly gets the pith out at all. But stone on wood is super effective as well, definitely will keep doing that.
After removing the pith I combed it repeatedly with the tool. This was made difficult by the fact that the tool was constantly wiggling around and falling apart. But it quickly stripped the outer layer off the fibers. Previously I had been rubbing them between my hands, which was very very slow and tended to damage the fibers. I got the idea from Sally Pointer's videos, but I think milkweed might just have too thin an outer layer ? Or some other reason (or maybe I was doing it wrong, but I don't see how as it is just rubbing). So the tool worked much better and faster. It did produce a lot of tow, although better technique and a better tool will probably help with that.
The line fibers
The tow fibers (top--I didn't have the energy to clean them up, but these should be spinnable as a rolag once I do)
Also tried a little cordage. My twist ratio was way off, which is a new cordage problem for me. I was curious how it would work up, but I don't plan to continue it. Not sure what to do with the rest of the milkweed though. I'm not very confident about spinning it, although maybe if I processed it more I'd have a better chance. At the moment it feels very rigid...not like the flax or hemp I've used.
Anyway, I need to go back to the hawthorn trees I found in the winter and look for new thorns I guess, although it might be too early. I really want a better tool so I can process the mountain of milkweed stalks before I move.
#milkweed#fiber processing#sorry for the bad pictures it was night when i finished#prehistoric fashion#(thats just my prehistory tag but also if i can spin it it will be prehistoric fashion so)#bast fiber
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Day six of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon.
"You're bluffing," the thief says flatly.
"And you're fucking stupid if you think this is the play that's getting you out of here," Kon snorts, tapping a foot against the floor. "C'mon, man, give it up. I've got plans tonight."
"Use the artifact!" the alleged "Mark" yells at the thief holding it.
"Right!" said thief says, then . . . pauses, and looks embarrassed. "How do I . . . do that?"
Kon looks incredibly unimpressed. Tim empathizes. Deeply.
"You guys need a minute there?" Kon asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Shut up!" Mark snaps at him. "Just use it, Lisa!"
"I thought you said no names–"
"Use it!"
"Uh, right!"
The thief chucks the little clay goat at Kon. Tim is genuinely embarrassed for this entire crew.
Kon catches the goat one-handed, which is kind of a stupid idea, but letting it smash on the floor admittedly wouldn't look great. People over property, obviously, but Kon also historically has issues with property damage and letting the bad guys smash up ancient artifacts is not the best plan in general anyway. Especially given how often said ancient artifacts have ghosts or curses or apocalypses locked inside them.
"Lisa!" the thieves all yell in horror.
"Was this the whole plan?" Kon asks, making a show of inspecting the goat. "Like, was this it? I can come back later, if you're still cooking on that."
Tim muffles a laugh with a snort. Kon definitely caught it, though, judging by his smug smirk.
"Shut up, wannabe!" the thief still holding a gun to Tim's head snarls, which reminds Tim he should be pretending to care about the gun currently being held to his head. Honestly, he would in Gotham, but the only way this moron is shooting anybody is by accident.
. . . admittedly, that is a concern, given the trigger discipline issue. Hm.
"Killing me would probably count as felony murder, just so you know," Tim mentions, glancing around the thieves. "Which you could all be charged with, not just whoever actually shot me. Plus I'm pretty sure stealing objects of cultural heritage from a museum is a federal crime."
He's completely sure of all that, actually, for obvious reasons, but he has to at least pretend to be a civilian here. Like, some effort needs to go into that illusion, if for no other reason than to avoid a Bat-lecture from Bruce or, worse, a Bat-"I'm not mad, just disappointed" from Dick.
Or, worst, Alfred might make disapproving shortbread instead of approving jammy dodgers for post-patrol tonight. That'd be really unfortunate. Tim could really use an approving jammy dodger tonight. He's already going to have to write up a very annoying incident report of this situation as it is, and also deal with the mortification of getting his neck saved by a Super. There is no dignity in that. At all.
He is definitely never telling the team his secret identity. At least not until he's absolutely positive Kon hasn't inherited any of Superman's eidetic memory, anyway. He's ninety-nine percent sure he hasn't, but that last percent is a definite concern right now.
"No one asked your opinion, brat!" Mark snaps, though a few of the other thieves now look extremely uneasy. Tim makes another mental note about their crew's obvious lack of prep time and general planning and continues to be embarrassed for them. Museum robberies in Gotham are themed events with careful research and preparation involved, and frankly usually involve more thoughtful effort than whatever gala they may or may not be crashing did. Smash and grab is for convenience stores and small-timers. And these guys are definitely small-timers, but this is equally definitely not a convenience store.
Metropolis is so weird. Why anyone even bothers doing petty crime in it at all is beyond Tim. Maybe they're just banking on Superman being more concerned with natural disasters and alien invasions and rescuing cats from trees, which is a valid strategy. Same theory as splitting up and making a cohesive group into multiple targets.
"He has the idol!" Lisa hisses, glaring at Kon like she's not the one who threw it at him to begin with. Tim gets a gun barrel jammed into his temple again. He has no idea why Trigger Discipline: What Not To Do thinks that's, like . . . a productive thing to do. At this rate he's going to get a bruise or something.
Well, he's not actually doing it hard enough to hurt, admittedly, though Tim does keep expecting it to. The guy looks like he's putting his back into it, but the impacts continue not to actually hurt, so Tim supposes he's just trying to put on a show here.
Well, at least he's putting in some effort, Tim supposes. That's something.
"I really do have plans tonight, you know," Kon reminds them, raising an eyebrow at the thieves again.
"I would appreciate you delaying those, actually," Tim mentions. "If you don't mind, I mean."
"Oh, yeah, don't sweat it, dude," Kon says, waving him off. "These people are annoying but I'm not gonna ditch out on you here, that's not your fault."
"Don't ignore us!" one of the unnamed thieves yells. "And give the idol back!"
"I have no idea why you would expect me to do that," Kon says.
"I'll shoot!" the thief holding Tim threatens, jamming the gun barrel into his head again.
"I mean, I'm pretty sure that dude was right about the felony murder thing, so maybe don't?" Kon says, inspecting the little clay goat again. "Hm. This thing is actually kinda cute."
"It is, isn't it," Tim agrees. "I thought it looked like a kid's toy."
"Oh yeah, I can see that," Kon says, squinting assessingly at it. "Like those chunky toddler ones?"
"Yeah, like those," Tim confirms with a nod. "Fisher-Price, Duplo, that kind of thing."
"I'll take your word on that one, man, my 'toddler' stage only lasted about half a day and I was sedated for it," Kon replies in amusement. Tim seethes internally and thinks very uncharitable thoughts about Cadmus.
"I said I'll shoot!" the thief holding him says furiously, tightening his arm across Tim's neck. It's still not actually enough to hurt, but again, Tim appreciates seeing a little more effort. "Give us the idol, you stupid brat!"
"I'm trying to help you out here," Kon says, looking exasperated. "You're just making shit worse for yourself the longer you keep this up. Put down the gun and let the guy go, you'll get a way lighter sentence."
"Fuck you!" the thief shouts. "The power of the idol will protect us!"
"The idol that I am currently holding, you mean?" Kon says, hefting it meaningfully. "The one that is in specifically my possession and not yours?"
Tim does understand that talking people down is the preferred approach and Kon can't actually super-speed this problem away, but Kon could at least pretend to be taking this seriously. From his perspective, there's a civilian hostage with a gun to their head and an angry criminal with their finger on the trigger, but he's acting like there isn't any danger in the situation at all.
Tim gets the posturing thing and the general "cooler than thou" attitude Kon likes to present, but it's definitely not making any of the thieves calm down. Like, not at all is it making any of the thieves calm down.
This incident report is going to be very annoying to write.
"It's not yours!" Lisa shrieks at him.
"You literally threw it at me," Kon says. "I only have it because you threw it at me. Also pretty sure it's not yours either, given all the screaming alarms and broken glass and the smashed-in wall I am currently standing in the wreckage of."
Tim starts wondering if maybe he should revisit his "tripping" plan. He doesn't really want to pull any Robin-esque moves in front of Kon, but also dying would really fuck up all that hard work he's put into being Bruce's emotional support sidekick. Also two dead Robins in a row could not possibly end well. Especially in such a stupid way. Especially in Metropolis.
"You don't even know what you're holding, you idiot!" Lisa fumes.
"A toddler toy, I thought we established," Kon says. "'Doopler' or something?"
"Duplo," Tim corrects, internally calculating tripping angles.
"That one, yeah," Kon amends. "Doppo."
Tim, resignedly, thinks his determined commitment to pointlessly fucking up is adorable. Also still hates Cadmus and has the irrational urge to buy him a teddy bear or something, although Kon would definitely just think he was fucking with him if he did.
Maybe he could just smuggle one into his room and disavow all knowledge of its existence. That's an option.
"Give us the idol now!" the thief holding Tim snarls, his face twisting in rage.
"Yeah, no," Kon says.
"You little–!" the thief starts to yell, and then his trigger finger slips. Tim knows this because the gun goes off right next to his ear.
And right against his temple.
Half the room screams and the thief yells and drops the gun, recoiling in horror. It goes off again as it hits the floor and a bullet shatters a historically-significant vase the way one should have shattered Tim's personally-significant skull.
What the fuck?
"Shit, sorry, that was probably kinda loud," Kon says apologetically, wincing a little but otherwise looking completely unphased by all of that. Tim blinks, very slowly, and attempts to restore his resting heart rate. It's not a particularly successful attempt.
"Yeah, kinda," he says.
"Sorry, sound waves are harder to block," Kon apologizes, pointing at his own ear with his free hand, and Tim remembers the other's total lack of concern for any threat to civilian life this whole time and realizes that was because, from Kon's perspective, there wasn't any actual threat.
Huh.
Well, that explains why neither the gun barrel nor the being choked thing actually hurt at any point, doesn't it.
"Oh," Tim says, looking down at the floor that they are, in fact, all still standing on. "Tactile telekinesis?"
"You've heard of it?" Kon says, looking pleased.
"Once or twice," Tim says, managing not to say it too dryly. Kon looks even more pleased. "I didn't know you could use it like that, though."
"Practice makes perfect," Kon replies smugly.
#timkon#tim drake#kon el#conner kent#dc robin#superboy#young justice#young just us#rinfic#long post#wip: obligatory sugar baby kon
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seven summers
bradley bradshaw x fem! reader
this my first fic in what feels like a century for a completely different fandom. i have been gathering up the courage to do this again, and i've been sitting on this for about two months now. take it easy on me y'all i feel like a sixty year old veteran re-enlisting right now and i have NO idea how to reload my weapon
warnings: absolutely none! well theyre a little sad for a minute but nothing that tumblr can't handle
word count: 5.9k
Loud spaces weren’t really in your list of favorite places. You could tolerate bars more than you could do clubs, though, and your best friend took that into consideration when she planned the night out for you two. The music was loud and the people were starting to get rowdy, but at least no one was grinding on you or begging for a dance. That was always when you would wrap it up for the night, shaking your head at even thinking that it was a good idea.
“Thank you,” you told the bartender, an exceptionally gorgeous older woman who always seemed to have a meddling look on her face. Her hair was lightly waved around her face as she looked you up and down for a second. You thought she was going to say something, but she just nodded at you once with a small smile before you turned away again, facing the crowd of people you were about to delve back into. You were just leaving the bar top with a soda (you were the DD, as always) when you tripped over someone else’s huge shoe.
“Oh, shit,” a manly voice said as you tripped, and hands caught your arm before you fell over all the way. You looked up and saw a blond man in an achingly familiar navy uniform looking down at you, and your eyes narrowed as his eyes grew wide. “I’m sorry.”
His uniform nearly brought you to a scene of painful flashbacks. You knew you were bound to run into attractive men in uniforms so close to a base, but there was an air about this man that made you feel like you were almost running right through the mist, right through the shadow of a man that you once knew, and a man that wore that very same uniform as he walked away.
You loved Alexandra, your friend you met through other friends. The only downside was that she was in the Navy, and that meant that you were almost always surrounded with memories of your ex boyfriend when you were with her. Him and that stupid uniform that stole him away.
“No worries,” you said after a few seconds, smiling at him. “It’s crowded here.”
“Oh, nice tattoo,” he said, and your hand immediately went to your collarbone, where the one tattoo you had rested. It was a nicely done tattoo of a honeybee, a mark of your past. Something you probably should have gotten removed, but every time you tried to convince yourself, you gave another reason to not get it removed. Deep down, you knew why you couldn’t go through with it.
“Thank you, I got it a while ago.” That was all you could say as memories flashed in your mind, but you managed to smile.
“You look really familiar,” he said, and you noticed that he also had an air of confidence to him as well as familiarity. He was an attractive man, almost too perfect. And he had a smile that you knew lured girls in far too often to be completely innocent.
“I’m kinda new to the area,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “Maybe we’ve run into each other at the grocery store or something? Or if you’re a frequent flier at the hospital.” That happened a lot. People you had never had as your own patients would sometimes recognize you, especially if they were often there.
“Yeah, maybe.” He looked you up and down one more time, almost like he was genuinely trying to figure out what his own mind was trying to remind him, before he nodded his head at you with a small smirk and a toothpick between his lips and left just as quickly as he came. And then your friend was taking his place, jabbering on about something as you tried to clear your own head.
You never wanted to be one of those people that lived in the past, and for the most part, you weren’t. You lived in the moment. You loved to make new memories, find new things to do, and meet new people. You loved meeting new people. However, the problem with meeting new people, especially men, was that there was that one guy from that one specific relationship that you had gotten yourself in that made it feel like everything was all for nothing.
Bradley Bradshaw.
You didn’t even know exactly what it was. You had been in plenty of summer flings that were passionate and fun, but you got over them easily enough. You had met so many people, loved and lost, and they all stuck with you in different ways that all felt sweet in one way or another. But Bradley? There was something about him that stayed with you in a different way. The thought of him kept a lingering taste of something distinct on your tongue.
In a way, he was the biggest waste of time you had ever spent your life on. There were two years that you shared being officially together, but it felt like forever. You should have known he was trouble the second you saw that military-grade mustache, and the confident walk he always had. You should’ve known he would cause you some pain the second his eyes and his smile proved to be a deadly combo. You poured so much love into that man in a short time in the grand scheme of things, and looking back, it was as much of a waste as it was a privilege.
For a while, you prayed for his return. He had broken your heart right before he left for his deployment, but that didn’t mean that you wanted anything to happen to him. You prayed for a while for him to come back safely and then come right back to you, and then that progressed into you praying to never see him again. You wished for his safety, you always would, but you never wanted to hear anything about him ever again unless it was saying that he landed safely back on US soil. After that, you wanted his name to be gone with the wind and buried with the dust of time.
Either way, he was in your thoughts forever and always, regardless of how many summers passed or how many people there were after him, how many you had met to pass the time. And as you stood in the middle of the bar with Alexandra, you were frozen in shock as you realized that you probably manifested the very fighter pilot in front of you.
He had seen you first. He was surrounded by attractive people in uniforms that you knew had to be his friends, and when you caught the eyes of the very blond man that you fell over before pointing at you with the angle of his head, your jaw dropped a bit. The man from earlier looked at you and slapped Bradley on his back, giving a blinding smirk before saying something to him that you couldn’t hear.
You were sure you looked silly standing there, freezing up the second you recognized him with a pool stick in your hand. You felt all the tension in your body work together to keep you as straight as a board. You blinked when your friend nudged you, completely oblivious to the mini panic attack you were about to have, and you swallowed and looked away like it didn’t nearly hurt you to stop looking at him.
You felt like you were drowning.
“You’re not tapping out or anything, right?” Alexandra asked, narrowing her eyes at you. “We’ve barely been here an hour, and you already have that uncomfortable look on your face.”
“What look?” You managed to murmur, completely aware that he was still looking at you. His gaze felt as familiar as it had back then.
“The one where you’re looking for escape routes,” she teased, even though she was starting to look concerned. “You do it all the time. Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah!” You said, way too loud to be normal. “I’m good.”
You prayed he didn’t approach you. He had plenty of distractions on his side of the room, lots of friends to talk to even though it was obvious they were trying to get him to go over to you. You were hoping that he would never come up to you or look your way again, but you were sick to your stomach when you realized that him walking away would mean he didn’t care nearly as much as you did.
You closed your eyes for a moment as you tried to understand that none of what you were seeing was a dream.
“Hi!” A woman’s voice from behind you said, and you turned around. You saw a woman in uniform smiling politely at both you and Alex, and you assumed that she knew her, but then her attention was on you. “I’m sorry, I just had to come over and say I love your dress.”
You were a simple creature, and one of your fatal flaws was that you were exceptionally friendly. That easily, the tension left your body as you spoke to the woman. You smiled kindly at her. “Thank you! I got it at a thrift store, but you can check the back to see where it’s from if you want!” She grinned at you, and then you saw her eyes wander to your hand.
“Oh, your ring is pretty, too!” The woman said. “When’s the wedding?” She joked, and you laughed. You wanted a big wedding, back then. Back when you could see the groom in your head, imagine the words he would say, and even imagine your first name combined with his last: Bradshaw. But that was nothing now.
“Thank you! You’re so sweet. It’s from my mom though, she gave it to me a few years ago.” She gave it to you, her big, shiny ring that her first husband had bought her just as a gift. Instead of pawning it, you begged her to have it. It had no sentimental value to you at all. It kind of looked like an engagement ring, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off. It warded off men for the most part, and it was a piece of her.
“Aw, that’s so sweet. I’m Nat! Most people around here call me Phoenix.”
You grinned at her and shook her hand before telling her your name, and you knew right then that you liked her. She was extroverted, but very polite. Just your type of person.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too!” She smiled at you before she continued her walk to the bar, and you didn’t think anything else of the nice girl in uniform.
The next few minutes went without any issues at all, and you felt like you could ignore the situation at hand and have a good rest of the night with Alex before it was time for you guys to head home.
“Hey.”
You weren’t hearing his voice. You just weren’t. You made your next shot in the game and ignored him.
You could feel him get closer to you, so close you could smell his cologne. Your eyes watered when you realized it was the very scent you picked out for him all those years ago. He still wore it.
You heard a very manly throat clear from beside you, and you realized that he wasn’t going to give it up. “Hi,” he tried again, and you breathed through your nose and finally turned around, looking face to chest at him before you looked up.
He was smiling down at you. He was smiling down at you as if nothing had happened, and no time had passed. You smiled back at first like muscle memory, but then your face dropped to a frown almost immediately. His smile fell, too. He nodded at your friend in acknowledgement, but she was too busy eyeing him up and trying to decide if he was a threat to you or the night to know that he was being friendly.
“Bradshaw,” you said, and his frown got deeper when he realized you called him by his last name. He hated that. You weren’t in the Navy and you had been together, you and he always insisted you reserved the rights to using his real name. Not his call sign, not his last name, but the one his parents had given him. “It’s been a while.”
“Bradley,” he corrected gently, almost like he thought you genuinely forgot, or like you threw out his first name from your personal dictionary. As if you could ever forget a detail about him. That was the blessing and the curse that he left you with. “You look-” he stopped talking for a moment, and you could have sworn that you saw an ocean of fondness in his pretty eyes that shouldn’t have still been there. “You’re still so beautiful.”
Your words felt caught in your throat. You wanted to tell him that his tan made him look beautiful. You wanted to say that he had filled out so nicely, and that his scars still fit his face perfectly. You remembered kissing them while laying in the summer sun and you remembered kissing them under the tiny Christmas tree you guys had bought together and plugged in. You were both so broke it only had about ten ornaments on it, but that never mattered. Never to the two of you. “You… still have that mustache.”
“You always liked it,” he said, a small smile coming back into his expression, but you didn’t give one back.
“So you’ve kept it growing in hopes to run into me?”
“Maybe I have,” he answered, and you blinked at him. He had always had a flirty personality.
You just blinked. “Uh, yeah. That’s nice.” Was it? It was opening every old wound you had ever had. Every wound that was partially healed by another person’s fleeting kisses was being torn right back open by one sighting of Bradley Bradshaw.
“It’s- it’s amazing to see you, how have you been?”
You were becoming more and more confused. How in the hell was he being so chipper? Maybe chipper wasn’t the word, he was being polite. Or, maybe it was that he wasn’t falling apart like you were. How? How was he managing politeness when you were hardly breathing? The thought that he would walk away from the conversation like it never happened made you irritable and defensive at the same time. “Why do you care?”
His brows furrowed, and he was looking at you as if you were saying all the wrong things. “Because I care how you’ve been.”
“Why?”
He took a look at your friend, who was still staring him down. “Uh, can we talk for a second?” He asked, and you pursed your lips together.
“No, she’s good right here,” Alexandra said, and you gave her a small smile.
“No, it’s okay, he’s fine. He’s big, but he’s harmless.” You saw his chest puff up in just the slightest at the mention of his physique, and you rolled your eyes. “We can step outside, but I’m not going home with you.”
“Okay!” He said, a little too loud for the setting, and you fought back a smile at how excited he was just to talk. You squashed the fondness down. “Okay, uh, come with me.”
The second your foot hit the gravel outside, his fingers were touching yours. The touch was innocent, but you still yanked your hand away. He backed away understandingly. “Force of habit, sorry.”
And it was. You remembered his little quirks. You were always pretty independent, and he had always been touchy and protective, so the compromise back then was that he would lay off while you were inside of a building, but he would hold your hand and guide you all he wanted to the second you walked outside.
“I- uh, I wanted to talk about us.”
“The past?” You said, crossing your arms.
“We’ve known each other for a long time,” he said slowly, like he was just then realizing he was treading on very thin ice.
“We knew each other,” you corrected, fully aware of your friend piecing the situation together by the expression on her face, and you gave her a look that held promises of filling her in.
“Don’t be like that,” he said, coming a little closer, and you felt your eyes burn when you smelled his familiar scent even more. Your tradition of buying men cologne that matched their personalities had died after Bradley. It was something you didn’t really understand why you did it yourself, but it was fun, and Bradley loved it. He was the fourth guy you had done it with, and he was the last. It just didn’t feel right with anyone else, and it was simply something else you kissed goodbye when you and Bradley went your separate ways.
“I’m not being any certain way.”
“I would definitely say that we know each other,” he said, a short chuckle dying on his lips, and you could hear the hurt in his voice. “We were together nearly every day for two years. We’d sit on the river and on the beach and talk about everything for hours. We road-tripped cross-country. I remember everything you ever told me back home, and I remember the last summer we had together like it was yesterday.”
You looked back up at him with eyes that you knew had to be full of sadness. “That was four summers ago.”
You saw it set in with him how much time really had gone by. You watched his eyes widen and his lips poke outwards as he breathed out. “Wow.”
Had time really not passed for him as slowly as it did to you?
All you could do was swallow and turn your head away from the breeze. “Yeah.”
“Do you have a boyfriend now?”
Part of you was so thrown by his question and his lack of tact, especially because he had been such a good flirt back then. Maybe time had changed him. “I’m married.”
Immediately, he shook his head with a small smile. “You’re not.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, even though you were enjoying the back and forth. It felt so familiar. “How would you know that?”
“That was the first thing I checked before I came over,” he admitted, and you cocked your head at him. “I looked at your finger and saw the ring before you even noticed me. And then I asked Phoenix to go over to you and make sure it was what I thought it was, and I was right.”
You gasped. You should have known that that stupid nickname was a damn callsign, the glaring beacon of a person that meant that they were a pilot. And pilots were… they were hard to love.
“I knew that if I came over to you, there would be no way I could hold my tongue from trying to win you back, so I had to make sure you weren’t married first, at least. But I’m not even sure that would’ve stopped me,” he muttered under his breath, and you rolled your eyes.
You were still a little bitter over him sending one of his friends to talk to you, and how well he knew you. He knew you never would have responded to a random man the same way you did Phoenix. “How do you know I don’t have a boyfriend?”
“I’m praying.” And then he sighed. “I don’t have anyone either.”
You would have laughed in his face if you weren’t so gutted. “I find that hard to believe.”
“What do you mean?”
“Considering you broke it off so you could run around and meet other girls, I would be very shocked if you didn’t have one with a ring on her finger by now.”
His eyes widened to a size that was almost comical. “What?”
You rolled your eyes at him. “Before you deployed. You know, when you broke up with me so that you could go talk freely with other women.”
His facial expression was so shocked that you almost bought it. He looked genuinely thrown in a loop by your words. “I didn’t break up with you to meet other people, Bee.”
You nearly caught whiplash at hearing your old nickname pouring like straight up honey from his mouth. No one called you that in a long time, mostly because ‘Bee’ was reserved for Bradley after a day he met you in freshman year of college, and you did an entire presentation on conservation of bees with passion that none of the other students had in their slideshows. It was what had drawn him to you in the first place.
“That’s what it felt like.” It still felt like that, four years later.
“No, no,” he said, shaking his head slowly. You hated how handsome he looked even when he was confused. But he had no right to look confused. “That’s not what happened at all.”
Your tone said it all for you as you crossed your arms. “Um, that’s what I remember, Bradshaw.”
He ignored what you called him, but you saw it in his eyes that it still bothered him. “I cut it off because I felt awful that you were going to be forced to wait for me,” he said, taking a step closer, and you saw his sad brown eyes begging you to listen. “We were still so young, you were even younger than me. It wasn’t fair for me to ask you to keep waiting for me, especially because I kept going on dangerous deployments.”
His words were bouncing around in your head. You calculated what he was saying, narrowing your eyes and trying to make sense of how it was changing your entire perspective of what happened, second by second.
“Are you fucking stupid?” You blurted, but he wasn’t surprised. In fact, he looked relieved. You never really made a habit of swearing, not even while arguing, but when you rarely let a word slip, it meant that you cared a lot.
Bradley wasn’t quite sure which way you cared and if it was in a good way or a bad way, but he was determined to change the passion to a way that would benefit the both of you.
“If you want me to be,” he rasped, and you narrowed your eyes at him.
“Did you just say you didn’t want me to wait for you?”
He blinked. “Yeah. You were what, twenty three? Your whole life was ahead of you. It wasn’t fair for you to have to wait for me to come home when you… you’re full of so much life. You had just gotten your dream job at the hospital, and you were so happy. If you were to stick it out with me gone, you would just have to decide between your job and me anyway when I got home. I ended up getting stationed somewhere else not too long after I came back home, just like I knew I would.”
“Bradley, I told you I wanted to travel, anyway. That job was not my forever job.”
“But-”
“I was prepared to wait for- for forever.” It was his turn to look shocked. “I really would have, Bradley. You just never even gave me the chance to. You pulled the rug out underneath me. You didn’t even ask me.”
He ran a hand over his face as the weight of the decision he made for the both of you settled heavy on his chest. “Oh, god.”
“I assumed you were deploying and you wanted to meet new people. I mean, I know that a lot of… you guys are cheaters. The stereotypes are true a lot of the time. I just figured you were sparing me from the cheating and cutting it off before it could get to that point.”
“Oh, god, no.” He shook his head. “You- thought I was cheating on you?”
“Well- what else was I supposed to think?”
“I would never,” he said, using his hands to make a broad “no” gesture. “You’ve always been it for me, ever since we met. There couldn’t have been anyone else, and there hasn’t been this whole time.”
You tried to mask the way you were falling into a puddle at his feet. “You’re so dumb.”
“Is it dumb of me to think you’ll hear me out a little more?”
You rolled your eyes at him, but your skin felt like it was on fire being so close to him again. “You’re plenty dumb, Rooster.”
“You never called me Rooster.”
“Well, I don’t know Bradley anymore.”
“I- why are you saying that?” He asked, and his face grew even more distraught. “You do know me. Nothing’s changed. Nothing is different at all besides the time. I still- there’s nothing that has changed about the way I feel for you.”
“What do you want me to say?” You couldn’t confess your love to him again. You loved him, a part of you always would, but you couldn’t handle him coming out of the blue and telling you everything you had secretly been wishing he would say to you for years. He was coming in like a dream. It was far too good to be true. “We got lost in translation four years ago and there's nothing we can do about it. Unless you and your pilot friends have been smart enough to build a time machine.”
“I would build a thousand time machines if it meant that I could change what I did, I was stupid. I was so stupid.” He stepped closer. “But I never stopped loving you. Not even once.”
A tear ran down your face, and that’s when you knew it was time to go find Alexandra again. “I-I gotta go, Bradley.” Before you could even turn around all the way, he took you by your hips and turned you back around, both pairs of your eyes wide mirrors of the other.
“I have been haunted by the thought of you for four years now,” he said, voice as soft and gentle as the breeze, but the grip he had on your hips was so desperate it almost made you sob. “I haven’t even- I’ve tried, but there hasn’t been anyone else. Not emotionally. Not even close, Bee.”
You couldn’t say the exact same. You tried and succeeded for a time, but they were never complete fixes. Just when you thought you were happy with someone else and free of the clutches of Bradley Bradshaw, he snuck right back. He ripped that rug out from under you every time without fail without even being present. That was your problem with each “relationship”, you were looking for a remedy and closure for a relationship that the next person had no idea about and no obligation to make better.
But you had definitely been haunted by the lack of Bradley Bradshaw. He was there all the time with you in your mind, whether you wanted him or not.
“This,” you said, shaking your head, and judging by the look on his face, he knew he was losing you. “This is a lot.”
“Wait, don’t walk away. I just got you back.”
“I’m not back, Bradley.”
“You’re back in front of me,” he said, and you stopped turning away from him. “That’s all I could ask for. Even if you want nothing else to do with me ever again, I just want to stand here and look at you for one more minute. Please.”
You put your hands over your face the second you felt your eyes start to burn and overflow with tears. You could feel his energy before you even felt his true touch, and the second you felt his arms around you, you broke down.
“I thought- I thought you were so nervous a few days before you left because you were going to propose to me.”
You couldn’t believe the words that were leaving your mouth. You had been so humiliated about jumping to conclusions that you hadn’t even told Alexandra about that part. You never planned on telling anyone that was the reason why you were so hurt, especially not the man who caused you all that pain. It had been sitting heavy on your chest, the humiliation and the sadness alike, for all four summers. You never planned on letting it loose.
But you had already said it.
“You boys get married so fast, and honestly, I was ready. I thought you were nervous because you were going to ask me to marry you, not because you were breaking up with me.”
“Oh.”
“It gutted me so bad when you broke it off. I thought it was going to be the opposite- I thought we were going to start our lives together and then you just…” you looked down at the ground as you tried to swallow back down the memory, even though everything was coming back so strong. “It was gone, that fast. And I realized I loved you a lot more than you ever loved me, obviously.”
“That's not even close to being true,” he said, shaking his head rapidly. “You can ask any of the guys I shipped out with. I was fucking miserable the whole time. And I know you don’t know the new guys I’m with, but this new squad even knows that there’s nobody else. You’re the one that got away.”
“You let me go,” you corrected, and he smiled sadly.
“Because I loved you.”
“That’s so fucking dumb,” you said, but you couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer to him. “That’s for fairytales, stupid.”
You felt yourself leaning into him, and he was letting you. His body language was inviting you in. You could see it in his eyes and you could feel his hands trembling as he moved them from your waist to hover over your back, like he was ready to pull you into him the second you gave in. You knew it was only a matter of time before you did give in, and the longer you felt his hands hover over you like you were stained glass, the more you craved his familiar, burning touch. You felt the pull to him like you were magnets. Like he was the sun and you were Icarus. You were the moth to his enticing flame, but he had always seen you as a butterfly. You were terrified to get burned for the second time, and fall from grace all over again.
“That one pilot said he recognized me,” you blurted, and you felt his eyes on you even though you couldn’t look at him. “I’ve never met him before, have I?” You might have. You used to know a lot of his old friends. He shook his head. “How did he know me?”
Without hesitation, his answer came. “I have pictures of you in my cockpit.”
That was what threw you. “What?”
“Most pilots keep photos of important people in their cockpit. It reminds them to fly safer. In the worst cases, it’s so that they can see a glimpse of family before they go down.”
Your heart was soaring so high that it was breaking with the pressure of it. “You have a picture of me in there?”
He had absolutely no shame about it as he nodded his head firmly. “Yeah, I have pictures of you. In my cockpit and in my locker.” Were you his screensaver, too? You didn’t know.
But you were in his locker. It made your heart flutter and it sent you right back to highschool. “More than one?”
“I have so many that my squad recognized you without me even saying anything. Hangman was the one who told me you were here.”
“Oh.”
He kicked the rocks underneath his foot, and then he was squinting back down at you. “You thought- you thought I was going to ask you to marry me?”
Just like that, your soaring, cracking heart plummeted again. “You don’t have to rub it in, Bradley.”
“No, it’s not that at all. I just- you would’ve said yes?”
“Of course I would have said yes, stupid.” You ignored how his eyes lit up and turned your body away with crossed arms. He was always so expressive, even when he didn’t want to be. “But that was a long time ago.”
“Not too long,” he rushed, and you shook your head.
You fought the urge to roll your eyes, especially because it was mostly to get the tears away. “It was a while ago, Bradley.”
“There’s no amount of time apart that would make me not want to be with you, Bee.”
Your head swiveled to him upon hearing your nickname from him again. “It- it doesn’t just work like that, dude.”
“Why not?”
“We were stupid back then. We lived off of blind faith and a whole lot of hopes. It doesn’t work that way anymore.”
“We make our own rules, that’s the glory of being adults.” He took your hands and you faced him, and the hope in his expression nearly floored you. “Who said we can’t pick up where we left off?”
You scoffed, even though you weren’t even close to laughing. “You’re crazy.”
“Crazy about you, but you’ve always known that,” he said with a smile. “You’ve always known how to work with it, too.”
For a moment, you felt a glimmer of hope and you felt the whisper of a smile come onto your face. And then you crashed again, and he must have seen it all over your face because his own smile went away and was replaced by concern. Before he could even ask what happened that fast, you threw your face into his chest and wrapped your arms around him.
He held you back just as quickly, and you knew he had been waiting for you. He smelled like home and he even felt like it, and when you opened your eyes all you could see was that stupid, loud Hawaiian print.
“I-if we do this again you- I can’t handle it if you leave me again. I couldn’t take it. Please, Bradley.”
“Don’t you even worry about that,” he said firmly, holding you so close that it felt like the two of you were physically molding together. “If you give me the chance, I want a shot at forever.”
You pulled your wet face away from his shirt and looked up at him as your heart raced in your chest. “Huh?”
He stared down at you for a moment, and you could see in his ever-expressive eyes that he was thinking about saying something to you that was about to change everything. “I fully intend to become your husband when we’re ready, if you let me. Just the way you wanted, and the way I’ve always dreamed about. I’m not going anywhere.”
The logical part of you knew that he was being ridiculous. Bradley was nothing if not overzealous, nothing if not reaching for goals that were just short of being unattainable. He was the version of Icarus that always managed to get back to earth safely by the skin of his teeth. He always put the cart before the horse, but somehow he always managed to get there.
So, you knew he was being serious. As crazy as he sounded, he was.
“Do you really mean that?” You didn’t have to ask that question. In fact, the words felt like acid on your tongue, but your heart pressed you to ask it anyway.
“Nothing could get me to leave you again, especially not my own stupidity.” He was holding you even tighter. “I promise.”
You were going to hold him to that with the same intensity that he held you with.
*****
oh boy.
so this one i’ve been sitting on forever and i’m tired of looking at it, but i have nothing but love for this fic that is pulling me out of a writing slump. i wrote it out of pure love for rooster though so i felt like i had to share it!! also- this comes from two main things;
two songs (“7 summers” and “ ‘98 braves” by morgan wallen) and then me being dumb enough to get involved with a military man of my own. he’s been gone for a while so i’m manifesting he comes back soon. anyone who is thinking about getting with a person- especially man- in the military (i can only speak for the united states military bc that’s where i’m from), you better be tough. i know they look good. i know they have this energy to them- trust me i’ve been obsessed since i was like 15. way before top gun maverick. but if you’re gonna be stupid, you better be tough 💀💀💀 and if you need any guidance to being stupid, i’m always here!!!
if you’re new here thanks for stopping by and checking it out! if you’re from an old fandom of mine but read it anyways i love you so much, it means a lot. 💕💕💕
#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#tgm#rooster x reader#my fics#bradley bradshaw x reader#heaven help me why am i writing again#lys’s fics#top gun maverick#top gun fanfiction#bradley bradshaw fluff
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Eddie Munson and Sex [18+]
Warnings: explicit descriptions of s*x (minors this isn’t for you don’t fucking touch it i swear to GOD), perv!eddie my beloved, tiny bit of a daddy kink (i refuse to apologize)
Word Count: 1k
Author’s Note: i have no idea what this is. it was going to be a fic i think but then it derailed into a headcanon-y drabble. it has not been edited. i’ve been so fatigued for the past two days that getting anything written has been difficult (thanks depression). once i come up with a plot / scenario i hope to have a very tasty smut fic written soon. i just have to puke all my other ideas up first i have so many. if any of y’all have some smut ideas drop them in my inbox please i would v much appreciate them <3
Eddie Munson was a dirty pervert. He frequented the local adult video store, from which he'd amassed an expansive collection of erotica. He masturbated at least twice a day. He had handcuffs nailed to his wall for exactly the reason you'd think, and a nasty little habit of stealing your underwear, often keeping it in his back pocket as he went about his day. He had explicit photos of you on his wall, pinned to the dashboard in his van, tucked in the front of his wallet.
And he was the sweetest, most tender lover on the face of the earth.
You both knew what it was like to be consumed by loneliness. Neither of you quite felt like you fit anywhere, and your romantic histories were both utterly tragic. It was your loneliness that brought you together - a friendship based on instant understanding that blossomed into a love so deep and consuming it terrified you at first. But Eddie, despite all his cynicism and hurt, gave you his affection readily and without the slightest hesitation. He showed you just how much you deserved to be loved, and you offered up all of yours in return.
Of course, knowing just how invested his sexual interests were, you assumed he was experienced. You knew he'd never really had any lasting relationships before he met you, but you found it difficult to believe a man like him could go more than a month without seeking release from another person. You assumed his body count was high, a gallery of women used for convenience and to distract from just how impossibly alone he felt. He was a man, after all - and men are really only after one thing.
That was until you had him naked, splayed out on your bed with your chest between his thighs, your mouth wrapped in a vice around his cock. He didn't last even a minute.
"I've never... no one's... ever given me a blow job before," Eddie admitted after you'd finished.
"... What?"
"I know, it's pathetic-"
"No, no."
You laughed, sitting up and kneeling beside him so you could look him in the eye.
"I thought..." You chuckled again at your own ignorance. "I thought I was like... your hundredth partner or something. Like you were fucking women left and right before we got together."
Then it was Eddie's turn to laugh.
"What? Do I really seem like that kind of guy to you?"
You shrugged, slightly embarrassed.
"I don't know... You're just really into sex," you explained. "And you're in a band. Casual hookups kinda made sense to me."
Eddie shook his head, his lips curling into a soft smile as he reached out to stroke your hair.
"Nah... not me. I, uh... I can never really get it up unless I like someone, y'know? I mean I'm horny as fuck but I never felt... I never felt okay giving it to someone who didn't give a shit about me. You're only the second person I've been in bed with. And the first I kind of regret, honestly. She was nowhere near as good to me as you."
You smiled, endeared by how endlessly sweet he was. You leaned forward, snaring his lips in a deep, intentioned kiss that he quickly got lost in, his hands raising to lay at your jaw.
"How about another blow job?" you offered as you parted, biting your smiling lip with anticipation.
He nodded vigorously, and the rest of the evening was spent working his cock in and out of your mouth, teaching him how to keep his cool and make the pleasure last.
No matter what his sexual appetite, Eddie loved nothing more than making you cum; and although he wasn’t as experienced as you thought, years of reading porno mags and watching smut films taught him plenty.
He could work magic with his mouth. The moment he got you alone in his bedroom, he pinned you to his mattress, spreading your legs wide and latching his lips to your clit, licking and sucking at you with expert precision. He could spend hours with your legs slung over his shoulders, gripping and kissing at your thighs, shoving you over the edge of an orgasm without giving you a chance to recover, savoring the way you squirmed and whined from overstimulation.
“Just one more, sugar,” he would coax you. “Let daddy make his favorite girl cum just one more time...”
And of course you would. When he spoke to you like that, your mind went numb, fucked out and sex drunk and entirely consumed by his adoration of you.
His favorite way to make you cum was (surprisingly) in missionary. He would fuck you slowly, holding your little bullet vibrator on your clit, diving in at an excruciating pace until you came, hard, flexing around his cock and bringing him all the closer to his own release. He loved watching your face contort with pleasure, pressing tender kisses to your jaw so he could listen to you moan in his ear. It was pretty vanilla, but the way he worked you, it felt like the dirtiest, most delicious thing he could do to you.
Eddie often used his erotica as a reference, which made everything about your sex life interesting. From toys to positions and even health advice, he was constantly bringing articles and photos from his favorite magazines to your attention, sometimes even reading them out loud as a form of foreplay. He wasn’t the biggest fan of watching porn while he fucked you, however - he preferred to set up shop in front of a mirror, getting off on watching himself slide in and out, the way your body moved with his, from a different angle.
He wouldn’t admit it, but his favorite part of having sex with you was laying beside you after fucking you into a stupor. He’d light a cigarette or roll up a joint and hold you in the sweetest silence, sometimes with your head on his chest, sometimes with his head on yours, but always with the lightest of kisses feathered across your skin, every inch of your body worshipped by him. He loved kissing down your back, over your collar bones, up the inside of your wrists.
Eddie Munson loved you with all his soul, and his body was how he showed it.
🌹💀 get your eddie fix 💀🌹
#muerta's works#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson x you smut#eddie munson headcanon#eddie munson drabble#perv!eddie#i need a man like Eddie to make sweet love to me until the end of time tbh#i've earned it
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Sorry just… just having insane!König thoughts. Imagine u want a dog. Oh, that one? That dog over there, one like that right? Okay! (Breaks into owners house and steals the dog) “for you :D” and ur like omg !!!! Wtf 😭
Someone disrespects u (disrespecting König’s girl is literally just looking at her for more than 3 seconds), he has their head on a platter.
So many red flags!! But he loves u, in his own fucked up way. Do him any wrong and he’ll lock u in his home forever tho😔
Yes this is yandere König, our most beloved toxic King ❤️ (Aw I've missed him ❤️❤️❤️)
He would love to steal get you a pet because that way, you won’t whine too much about wanting to see more of your friends and family. Dog is a good option because you can’t leave this animal without care for too long, it will provide you with distraction when he’s away, and you won’t get too lonely or bored (not to talk of getting out of the house and risk seeing “Have you seen this dog?” posters all around the town)
No, you’re too preoccupied to venture out, especially when it’s a nice, plump puppy he got you! It’s almost like you’re practicing to be a mom...
You look so sweet when playing with the dog, sending König pics and videos of you with the pup, teaching it to do tricks and stuff. It licks your face, and you squeeze your eyes shut and giggle from joy, and König doesn’t even get jealous. At least, not too much... Surprisingly, he’s very pleased with his decision to get a pet for you. Yes, he has the ability to make you very happy... Clearly, you couldn’t get a better man: he takes care of all of your needs!
And everything’s nice and peaceful until you go out with him. König gets annoyed easily, if someone pays attention to you at the store for example, it’s always a hassle because he has to constantly scare away potential harassers and perverts, filthy men checking out your breasts and ass, eyes lingering a bit too long on your pretty face. Smashes his hand against a wall or goes to stand menacingly not three inches away from these poor guys who had the audacity to take a short glance at you.
It's not a good idea to doll up and go to a restaurant with him, there would be a WW3 before you got to the main course… And heaven forbid if he catches you smiling at a man! (meaning, being polite to the cashier/waiter) König won’t kill anyone while you're watching, he would never upset you with mindless violence, but tires will be slashed and throats might get cut before the evening is done…
And he would never, ever hurt you. It’s just that König always jokes about kidnapping you, ever since you started dating him. And this time, when he's about to leave for work, you find that your key has gone missing… You already moved in with him, a bit too quickly, your friends warned, so now you’re stuck in a big gloomy house with a dog and a big pile of dirty laundry.
Yes, it’s too bad that you can’t leave the place now when he’s away and there's no extra key, but don’t worry, he got you plenty of groceries! And there's a silly puppy keeping you company, isn’t it nice? He has a big home theater and terabytes of pirated movies and shows to choose from, what more could you ask for? He’ll call you every chance he gets ❤️ Don’t forget to send pictures ❤️
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Tulips
This is the story I dubbed as therapeutic for myself. I've been struggling a lot lately (I apologize for the delay in posting). I actually wanted this to be more but I wanted to post very badly. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy a lot of fluff and bit of angst.
Harry was convinced that even if they did end their relationship (and he was certain that would never happen) he would thank her for the heartbreak.
Harry was at the grocery store, passing the florist department when he realized his mistake. He had been dating her for nearly two months when he came to the realization that he hadn’t gotten her a bouquet of flowers yet. He felt horrible immediately and wanted to remedy the situation as quickly as he possibly could.
But he wanted her to like the flowers he got, and he wanted it to be a surprise. Neither of which he was sure he could pull off when he hadn’t asked her once what her favorite flower.
Like an absolute creep, he messaged her youngest sister on Instagram; he had at least met her in passing on one of their dates when they stopped for a coffee while she was working. Harry hadn’t met the other two just yet so messaging them would have seemed insane.
Hiiii. Uh...sorry to message you like this...any chance you know your sister’s favorite flowers?
Oh, my goodness, that’s too sweet! Umm...now that I think about it, I’m not sure. Let me ask.
Er...I was hoping it could be a surprise.
Aww...Don’t worry I have just the idea, wait one minute.
Harry waited patiently for her response thinking about how smitten he was with the beautiful girl. Just the mere thought of her brought a smile to his face, making him nearly giggle with how much he liked her. Flowers didn’t seem like enough. She deserved a whole garden.
Here’s what I got. She’s so sad sometimes *eyeroll*
Harry frowned and clicked on the screenshot titled Will Recipients. He chuckled at the name. He knew it was between the four girls and Harry was looking for his lovely lady’s response in the many messages they managed to send. He was slightly amazed they had time to send all of them in a matter of five minutes that he texted her sister.
Her sister started: I’m doing a project for school. What’s your favorite flower?
Harry didn’t know which middle sister was which, but he thought their responses were funny, nonetheless. What kind of project asks about your favorite flower?
I like daisies.
That’s the most boring answer I’ve ever heard. Harry knew the youngest was brutal sometimes and he thought of messaging with Gemma, and it was nothing in comparison to four girls ranging from their late teens to their mid-twenties. It’s for my stats class.
I took that class, we never did a flower thing.
Can you just tell me?
Finally, the oldest answered and Harry examined her little gray message for entirely too long. Like the one I actually like? or the one I tell everyone I like? That was her response.
What kind of lunatic lies about their favorite flower?
The kind that gets told their favorite is old-ladyish all the time. Or laughed at because it’s a stupid flower. Forget it, I like sunflowers.
Harry frowned and responded to her sister once more. Any chance you could find out the real one?
Sure!
Within moments Harry had another screenshot.
Hey drama queen, I won’t tell the others, what’s your real favorite flower. I’ll even keep my comments to myself.
Tulips.
Nothing else. That was the only thing she wrote. Harry didn’t really know what to expect but it wasn’t tulips.
Thank you, love. I appreciate it.
Any time Harry! Let me know how she likes them!!!
Harry was planning when he’d see her next and looked into all types of tulips and how to care for them as well. He wanted her to like them and didn’t want her to feel bad about liking them. Making her happy was his goal. He didn’t really feel any particular way about tulips at all. He didn’t really think they were old-ladyish so he wondered where that came from. He felt bad the poor thing had to hide her real feelings. He never wanted her to feel that way around him.
Harry thought it would seem too obvious if he brought flowers right away. So he had to wait for just right the time which gave him plenty of time to research the perfect color and care needed for the pretty girl that deserved pretty flowers.
*
Harry knocked on her door holding the bouquet in his hand. They were going to dinner and a movie that evening and Harry came prepared—especially since it was now approaching nearly three months since they began dating. After a quick greeting she seemed to finally notice all at once the flowers in his hand. “Kitten?” He asked gently as she stared at the flowers. Her eyes sort of glazed over.
“Are you the reason my sister was asking us our favorite flower?” She wondered.
Harry frowned a little. First, she was too smart. He was sad she knew so quickly the motives of her sister asking the question were tied to him. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she still lied to her sister, and these weren’t her favorite flowers. Harry bit his lip and sighed. “Er...yeah,” he sounded so shy. “M’sorry, kitten...I thought I got the right—” She shook her head and stayed silent as Harry stopped speaking. It was so silent. Nearly uncomfortable with how silent it was. Why would her sister lie to him?
God, he really liked her, and he thought he ruined everything just by getting her flowers. His frown deepened and he sighed as he went to the kitchen to find a vase. She stayed by the door almost in a trance, and Harry felt a little awkward trying to figure out what her reaction meant.
“Harry?” She said softly and suddenly hurried to the kitchen. He was filling the vase with water, and he looked at her entering the kitchen a tad nervously.
“Yeah, angel?” He asked.
“Thank you,” the thankfulness, the kindness, the overwhelming amount of gratitude in her voice almost shattered Harry. She was so grateful for the flowers.
He sighed with relief and smiled at her as he put the stems into the vase. Setting it on the counter he came to her side and slid his hands up her neck and gently rubbed his thumb across her cheek. “’Course, beautiful,” he hummed and pressed his lips against hers. Kissing was still kind of new—and he loved the way she nearly sighed each time their mouths connected. He smiled as he pulled away. “Sorry it took me s’long t’get y’some.”
She bit her lip. “What do you mean?” She asked.
“Should have gotten y’flowers every time I saw you,” he smiled and rubbed his thumb on her lips. He kissed her forehead and then the tip of her nose before he turned his attention back to the vase and settled it in the middle of her coffee table. “Y’ready t’go?” He asked.
Since she seemed speechless, she nodded. Harry gave her a reassuring smile, took her hand, and left happy the bouquet seemed to be a hit.
*
They were flowers. Flowers. Just flowers. She wasn’t going to lose her mind over a bouquet.
But she kind of was.
Fortunately, Harry was giving her a hilarious recap of the movie that she was hardly able to stay focused on while it played. His summary allowed her to make believe she had watched the whole movie. While instead, for the better part of the last two hours, she really thought only about the tulips that Harry had placed so effortlessly in the middle of her apartment. As if the flowers didn’t mean everything in the world. Like it wasn’t earthshattering that he got her flowers.
“Are you okay, love?” He hummed and gave her hand a squeeze as they made it to the restaurant. He put his hand on her lower back as he held the door open for her and ushered her inside. His eyebrows pinched together. “Did y’like the movie?” He wondered nervously as she walked inside. Maybe his recap was overdone. But Harry enjoyed the movie and the way she seemed so engrossed and how captive she was through his summary he assumed she did. Maybe he was wrong this time about her—like he thought she didn’t like the flowers. She grabbed the next door and held it open for him but he placed his hand above her to hold it open so she could walk through first once more.
She would have enjoyed the movie if she paid any attention to it. But she didn’t. So, she fibbed a little. “I did, yeah. M’just a little tired... movies make me tired,” she explained with a breath of exhaled laughter. That wasn’t a lie. They were lucky they were in a theater because if they were at one of their apartments—and she wasn’t having a meltdown over a bouquet—then she would have fallen asleep for sure.
He frowned. “Oh, m’sorry, kitten. D’you want me t’take you home instead?”
She shook her head quickly. “No, I’ll perk up. I’ll get a coffee,” she said and reached for his hand as they stepped to the hostess stand. She squeezed it reassuringly. “I...I like our date nights,” she smiled sweetly.
Harry seemed to sigh with relief. He liked her so much. Lately, more and more, he didn’t want their date nights to end either. Of course, he would have taken her home if that was what she wanted. He would do anything for her. But he was so glad he didn’t have to. He wanted to spend forever with her. “Okay,” he said with a happy grin. Turning his attention to the host, “I have a reservation for two under Styles?” The host nodded and brought them to their table. “I know it’s not your job, but could you get us a cup of coffee, please? Cream and sugar,” he asked as he held her chair out for her. The amount of chivalry and manners in Harry made her melt every moment they were together. No one ever held a door open for. Certainly, never pulled a chair out for her. He always asked so politely for anything she wanted. It made her fall so effortlessly and heavily in love with him at every moment.
Harry sat down and placed his napkin in his lap. She kind of wished she told him she would like to go home. She would much rather enjoy the bouquet and sit with Harry on her couch until she did fall asleep. The restaurant seemed too public, even though no one was paying any mind to them. They were just a young couple on a date and there wasn’t anything to really witness.
But she was in love.
And Harry was perfect.
She wanted him all to herself. “Have y’ever eaten here?” Harry asked.
“Umm,” she looked at the name on the menu as she did wonder if she had been there before when he broached the date idea earlier in the week. As she scanned the titles of the dishes, she responded to him. “I think so—but it was a while ago.”
Smiling, he nodded. “M’a huge fan of the cauliflower.”
“We should get it then,” she answered. “If you’re willing to share,” she winked at him.
He chuckled. “Only with you, kitten.”
*
When they headed back to her apartment, he rubbed his thumb on the outside of her hand. He loved touching her—even just holding her hand made him feel like he was floating. “D’you have any plans for tomorrow, love?” He asked.
“Probably just clean and read some. Maybe go for a walk or something,” she shrugged.
“That sounds nice.”
“How about you?”
Just think about you all day. He thought to himself. “Hmm...nothing comes t’mind. Probably just lounge around.”
She nodded. “Well...you should come lounge around with me then,” she said sweetly. He turned to look at her with a grin.
“Yeah?”
A beat of silence, her lips pursed together, and she glanced up to meet his gaze briefly as she spoke finally. Harry thought she was nervous again. He didn’t like that she was nervous—he wanted her to feel utterly comfortable around him. “I really like spending time with you, Harry.”
Harry leaned against the wall beside her door and smiled at her. He couldn’t see his own face of course, but he hoped his expression was as loving as he felt. “I love spending time with you, angel,” his voice was filled with infatuation, she felt her face warm under his gaze. Gently, he reached for her and brought his hand to cup her face so he could kiss her once more. He let his lips linger against hers for a few moments and peppered a few extra kisses along her jawline. “Goodnight, kitten. Send me a text when y’want me over,” he nearly hummed as he left her standing in front of her door.
He heard her sigh near dreamily and he smirked to himself as he headed off to his car. As he turned his car over, her message popped up on his screen. Thank you again for the flowers, Harry. It was so so sweet <3
Of course, kitten. Glad you like them :) See you tomorrow, sleep well. Xx Alone with his thoughts Harry left feeling excited that she liked the tulips so much but was suddenly overcome with disappointment—but not disappointment of her. Merely because her reaction made him a bit sad.
He messaged her sister before pulling away from his parking spot. She LOVED the flowers. Thank you for the help, love! Xx
Woooo! Yay! I’m so glad I could help!
Harry was sincere in his thankfulness—she did love them. But she loved them so much for so much more than they were... and Harry felt...devastated by that fact. He wanted to know why. Wanted to know why she was so quiet when he entered the apartment. She was rendered speechless. So much so that it seemed she didn’t pay any mind to the movie. He didn’t harp on it of course, but now alone he couldn’t help but think about it. He supposed he would see her the before he knew it the very next day maybe he could figure a way to ask then.
*
It was early afternoon when she finally messaged him. Harry was waiting anxiously by his phone with nervous energy worried that she wouldn’t ask him over. Hiii I’d love to have you over if you’re not busy.
Harry thought that maybe he should have waited longer than thirty seconds to respond. It seemed desperate. I’ll be there soon, love :)
He arrived nearly fifteen minutes later, knocking on her door and smiling at her as she answered. He leaned against the wall beside the door frame just as he did the night before. Pushing off he smiled at her and wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tightly. Kissing the top of her head, he sighed. “Mmm,” he hummed. “Hey, angel.”
“Hi Harry,” she murmured into his chest.
They were quiet for a moment before he released all but her hand and gently nudged her inside. “Didn’t know there was anything t’clean in here,” he smirked as he inspected how spotless it was (as it always was). He enjoyed the scent of the candle she lit that seemed to mix so effortlessly and perfectly with the smell of the dryer running from another room.
She giggled cutely. “It’s not...bad, y’know...I just am a bit particular. And I like to make things look nice.”
“It’s lovely, kitten,” he chuckled. “Do y’want to watch a movie? Or read...?”
“Are you...sure?” She asked.
“Well yeah. Y’said we were lounging. I’ll do whatever y’want, love,” he made himself at home on the couch and he set the book he had in his bag on the coffee table beside her bouquet of tulips that still (thankfully on Harry’s part) looked beautiful. He patted the seat beside him. After a second of uncertain hesitation, she situated herself beside him. “Jus’ glad t’be spending time with you,” he said and dropped another kiss to her temple. Turning to face her she smiled at him. Harry thought he would melt just from the warmth of her pretty lips curving up in his direction. He cupped her face delicately between his hands. He brushed his lips over hers causing that beautiful, wonderful sigh to escape her lips. Harry rested his forehead against hers. “M’in love with you,” he told her.
She all but gasped as her lips parted ever so slightly as she looked at him mere millimeters away from her face. “Really?” She whispered.
That crushed him. “Very much, beautiful,” he murmured even though he was heartbroken by how...confused she looked. Of course, Harry loved her. She was perfect. “Been loving y’more every day.” She blushed between his hands, and he kissed her nose. “Y’don’t have t’say it back,” he said softly. His heart broke a bit at the idea. “I know m’probably a bit early, but...I jus’ wanted you t’know tha—”
“I love you,” she said simply, not quickly like she was rushing to say it. It was definitive. She didn’t have to follow up with her next words, but he was so lucky and grateful she did. “So much.” Harry felt breathless and he leaned forward and kissed her so deeply he thought he might never breathe again.
*
Harry was helping her with the dishes after they had eaten at his place. He was tired of having her overnight bag sitting on his bed and just a drawer of her things being the only part of her around when she wasn’t. But that wasn’t true. She was constantly in his thoughts. Even in the brief seconds he wasn’t thinking about her, the notes she left behind for him to find made his attention turn right back to her. “You okay?” She asked kindly. “You seem a little quiet and out of sorts.”
He shrugged. “Mmm,” he sighed. “Jus’...thinking.”
“Sounds scary,” she smirked after a moment.
He rolled his eyes. “Baby, I would handcuff you t’myself.” She giggled and turned her attention to making sure the dishes didn’t shatter as she put them back. “D’you ever wish we lived together?” He asked.
She paused. Harry thought that maybe as good as things were going after a year, it was still too soon. Sure, they spend nearly every weekend together. They talked every day and saw each other every other day. But maybe that was enough for her. Maybe it was easier to just have a Harry-weekend and live her life during the week. Harry pursed his lips about to take back his offer—or make some excuse that it it didn’t need to be a right now thing. “You want to live with me?” She wondered.
He turned to lean against the counter, and he watched as she put the dishes away as if she did in fact live there. “Well, yeah,” he said. “I’d see you a lot more,” he reminded her. “Wouldn’t be sick missing you s’much,” he brought his hand to his mouth, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers and pulled nervously at her response. “If y’don’t—”
“No, I...I really want to live with you,” she nodded. “If you want to live with me,” she reaffirmed quietly.
Harry dropped his hand from his mouth and grabbed her hand. “Yeah?” The smile on his lips grew by the second. “Of course, I do, angel. You’re the best part of m’day—I want it every day.” She looked down slightly and smiled. Harry didn’t miss the blush that painted her cheeks and he squeezed her hand. “I love you,” he reminded her.
“God, I love you, too.”
*
It was Saturday. The first one they were living together. Harry moved into her place, and she was so utterly accommodating. There was so much room for all his stuff. She made it effortless. They went through everything logistically—her bed was bigger, but Harry had a better couch. Harry wanted to hire a mover, but she was insistent that she and their friends could do it. And they did.
It was embarrassing how long Harry lay in bed. He scrolled through social media, answered a few work emails, and read some of the books he started before he went to bed last night. He would have gotten up sooner if he noticed the sound of her wandering about the apartment. It wasn’t until he heard a few dishes clink together that he realized she was home. He assumed she may have been running a few errands—she mentioned them before—things she wanted to move in for herself.
After the dish clinking, he paid closer attention to her movements and that was when he heard the distinct sound of a cleaning spray bottle and the sound of the washing machine going. Shit. He thought to himself, threw the covers back, and marched out to the kitchen.
He realized he should have started with a good morning, but it was too late. “What are y’doing?” He asked.
“Oh! Hi Harry,” she jumped at his question. She must have only half heard him through the music playing in her ears. She turned to him with a hand over her heart. She wasn’t used to Harry being around so casually. She was used to him shirtless and only in boxers, but it was the first time seeing it in their own place. He didn’t seem amused as he waited for her to answer his question. Which she nearly managed to forget while she waited for her heart to simmer down. “Uh...cleaning?”
Harry looked...annoyed? That couldn’t be right. She didn’t do anything to cause him to feel annoyed. She was quiet and cleaning all morning. It couldn’t have been an issue. Harry was just hanging out in their room and—
“You’ve been cleaning all morning, yeah?” He said already knowing the answer. She felt like she was suddenly in trouble. She nodded solemnly.
“Uh...yes,” she said quietly.
Harry ran his hand through his hair and sighed. Pursing his lips he glanced around at the near spotless place—their place. Their. Place. “Can y’go sit down for me, then?” He asked gently.
“I’m sorry?”
“Jus’...don’t want y’doing t’much. I wish I was paying attention more—I thought y’were...well I don’t know what I thought y’were doing. M’sorry. I’d like t’take it from here and do the rest of the cleaning so y’can lounge around.”
She swallowed and the uneasiness in her stomach transformed a bit into something less of feeling like she was about to get into trouble and more into a worry of not...being enough. “Oh, Harry. I don’t mind,” she whispered looking at her feet. “I...I’m really used to cleaning...I kind of like it and...I don’t know. I didn’t mean to bother you. I thought I was being pretty quiet, so I’m sorry if I woke you,” she spoke to his feet the whole time and she couldn’t shake the idea that he was mad. It made her so nervous that she had already ruined their first couple of weeks of living together.
He didn’t respond but he kept his eyes glued to her face—or where her face would be if she was looking up. “Kitten,” he said so quietly, almost sadly. “Can y’look at me please?” He asked. Tears were in her eyes, and it felt more like she was in trouble once more. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. Harry looked as sad as he sounded. He reached out and grabbed her hand. “M’not mad at you, m’love,” he whispered.
Harry was crushed by the relief that exhaled from her body. “No?” She whispered.
He squeezed her hand. “Angel, why would I be mad?”
“Um...” she swallowed again and smirked but there was no humor. It was just sadness. “Uh...I don’t know,” again, no humor, but a laugh escaped her lips.
“Kitten,” he hummed gently. Tears started to overwhelm her vision and she swallowed nervously against the emotion. When she sniffled, Harry finally lost the stand he was taking. The one where he was going to make her say it, because he wanted her to, and he didn’t think it was right. He pulled her forward and pressed her against his chest, her head beneath his chin and he sighed softly. “Tell me, baby,” he said rubbing his hand up and down her back. He kissed the top of her head and hated the way her shoulders shook from the tears that fell from her eyes.
She hated that he was so handsome—especially almost entirely naked because there wasn’t even the layer of a thin t-shirt to hide the tears that she was shedding. “He was,” she sniffled like it hurt to say.
“I know,” he sighed. “But m’not him,” he reminded her. “I don’t want you t’do it all, kitten. I don’t expect you to,” he slid his hands to her face, and he crouched just a little as he peered down into her eyes. “I love you,” he promised. “You’ve done so much for so long... for so many people.” Biting her lip, she turned her head from him. He wasted not even a second tilting her chin back, so her eyes were back to him. “Y’don’t have t’do anything for me,” his voice was so gentle it hurt. It made her feel sick and undeserving.
“If I don’t...then...” she sighed and closed her eyes.
“Kitten, please look at me,” he begged so quietly, she hardly heard him, but she didn’t open her eyes.
“Then...you’ll...not...want...me,” the pauses between each word hurt more than all of them said together. It meant she was thinking about every single syllable. Each word that was going to break her heart...and Harry’s.
It wasn’t the time to do it, but he couldn’t stop himself. Harry thought of the tulips. He thought of the times she thanked him for putting the laundry—the laundry that she washed and folded—away. The way she said “Really?” when he told her he loved her for the first time. There were all the times she never asked for anything from Harry but he could sense she wanted to but was...scared to do so. It made sense now. She was scared. For no reason. But still scared. Harry felt so angry toward every person that ever broke her heart and made her feel less than perfect. He hated when she hurt. “M’beautiful angel,” he sighed softly stroking his thumb over her face.
She sniveled and brought a hand to her face. “Harry,” she whimpered.
“I know, love,” he cooed softly and brought her back to his body. He let her cry for a few moments. He listened to the way she sounded like she was in pain as she let the tears fall freely and it made him so sad and upset, he could have cried himself. “Baby,” he hummed to the top of her head. “Y’don’t have t’do anything for me, m’love.” She nodded against him and he sighed. “Y’don’t, kitten. Y’really don’t need t’do anything,” he promised. He hoped if he repeated it enough she would believe him.
“But—”
“No,” he shook his head. He didn’t say anything else. It wasn’t final or demanding the way he spoke. It was just a simple no. There wasn’t anything else to be said. Harry let her tears subside before he settled her on the couch and finished her cleaning. For the first time since she moved in, she relaxed on a Saturday while someone else cleaned for her.
The love she felt for Harry was overwhelming.
*
They were lounging on the couch. The TV was on, but she was turned away from it, facing Harry’s chest. With one arm looped behind his head he could see the show and with his other hand he rubbed it up and down her back. It was so peaceful and gentle. It was everything he ever wanted in a relationship. It was everything he wanted with her. “Y’okay, love?” He hummed dropping a kiss to the top of her head. She nodded wordlessly and he smiled and continued watching his show.
“Wanna stay here forever,” she mumbled. He smirked, placing another kiss on the top of her head. He sensed there was more, but he hated pressuring her into saying more than she may have wanted to—after that first weekend she cried to him, he let her feel exactly what she wanted and how she wanted. Harry knew most of her thoughts. He of course wanted to know all of them, but he knew that she always told him anything she wanted to tell him.
“Is there more, kitten?” He asked quietly. She nodded. “Y’can tell me if y’want,” he reminded her gently.
“It’s stupid.”
He shook his head and glanced down at her perfect face and her fingers fidgeting with the cross and chain around his neck. “You’re anything but stupid, angel,” he felt her feet wiggle uncomfortably. He wanted to beg and pull the words from her lips, but he waited patiently.
“How do you know when I want to say more?” She asked instead.
“Because I adore you,” he responded instantly. She snorted a short laugh but didn’t seem to have an answer to that. “Jus’ know you so well, love. Been trying t’read your mind for the two and a half years...think m’getting pretty good at it. Now jus’ have t’make sense of what y’don’t say,” he smirked and kissed the top of her head.
“Are you frustrated that I don’t tell you things?”
He pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, course not.”
She was silent. “I think about marrying you every day,” she whispered so quietly Harry almost missed her words.
“Oh?”
“I never thought about a wedding with anyone I’ve ever dated in the past. It seemed like so much work because I would do all the planning and the everything...” she explained. “Now...God...I just...I want to show you off to everyone I know and show how wonderful you are because I know you would make the wedding of my dreams come true...because you make all my dreams come true.”
Harry was so quiet thinking about how that may not have seemed like much but to her it was—it was letting herself be vulnerable about wanting to spend her life with Harry. Without knowing how he felt—which was silly since he wanted to spend every second with her in his arms, reading her mind, or listening to her every thought. He wanted to cheer her every win and console her every loss. She was all his and he adored her so completely. He tipped her chin back. “I can’t wait to marry you,” he promised. He saw the way her face seemed to sink with relief which broke his heart, but he couldn’t get over how beautiful she looked even when she did—it left him breathless, wordless, soundless. Harry was convinced that even if they did end their relationship (and he was certain that would never happen) he would thank her for the heartbreak. As he always did when she left him speechless, he kissed her so deeply he thought he might never breathe again.
But it would have been the best way to go.
#harry#harry styles#harry styles fluff#harry styles blurb#harry styles blurbs#harry styles imagine#harry styles angst#harry styles writing#harry styles smut#harry styles one shot#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles sad#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#one direction#one direction writing#tulips
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anon asked:
Hi! It says on your description thing that your requests are open? ( I’m sorry for this if they’re closed :’) )
I read your request rules and it said you take poly kiribaku and I was wondering if you could write a scenario of kiribaku with a fashion designer reader? reader makes them suits and an outfit for themselves from scratch for an event? Just kinda funny fluffy stuff with reader slowly getting more annoyed at them not cooperating ( mainly Bakugou cause he’s Bakugou lol ) but still managing to finish and make them cool suits and an outfit for themselves too :)
I’ve had this lil idea in my head for months now and I love your writing, so if you think you could do something with this I’d be very happy :)) ( sorry for the long request, if you don’t want to write this I wouldn’t mind, also sorry again if your requests are closed :’) )
thank you! :))
a/n: so sorry its a bit short anon, but i did what i could!
w.count: 1.1k
your office was currently a mess. an organized mess but a mess nonetheless and katsuki made sure you knew that by his sneering. it wasn't unusual for either of your boyfriends' to stop by your workplace for various reasons. forgot your lunch, bringing you papers you needed, maybe repairs to their hero suits since your stitching 'holds up better than others'. still, this time you were the one to strong-arm them into both coming by. or rather, strong-arm katsuki, since eijirou had no issues in popping by when you called.
your work office was filled with used and unused mannequins, your main desk, a separate desk littered with fabric scraps, your sewing machines, and straight pens left, right, and center. there was also a quiant little loveseat with two comfortable cushions you have for visiting clients.
that very loveseat is where both your boyfriends' currently parked their asses. you standing in front of them with your hands on your hips and a tape measure gripped in your palm.
"i dont see why we need all new shit," katsuki groans, his arms on the back of the loveseat, looking away from your unimpressed scowl. eijiou curls his lips in to try- and fail- to conceal the amused look on his face.
you had called them both here because of the next hero gala. the dates were finally sent out to those permitted to attend, and both of their names were on the roster. of course, they would be going- mostly because katsuki's pr team begged him to- and since they got to bring plus ones along, you would also be with them.
the two of them have always been wearing store bought formal wear or renting suits, but this was literally your area of expertise! you would get measurements from the two of them if it was the last thing youd do before making them outfits they can freely keep for such occasions.
eijirou had no qualms about the whole process. in fact, his measurements went smoothly aside from him flexing his arms when you were trying to get their circumference.
"yes, you're very muscular babe, now relax your arm or so help me," was what he got in return to his playful tomfoolery. checking off his waist and hips was also filled with banter since at least three times he had hugged you and kept joking about how he wasn't just going to not when you were right in front of him. that would be far too many wasted opportunities.
katsuki had been scrolling on his phone the whole time eijirou was prolonging his process by playing harmless pranks and showering you in goofy affection as he does. you almost wished you had measured him last to get the stubborn fool that is katsuki over with first though.
now, here you stand, impatiently waiting for him to get his ass up and get started.
"katsuki," you warn, his head tipping back in a groan. "i've got all day," you tell him as if you weren't bothered in the slightest. you were though, and annoyed to boot. while you did in fact have time, that doesn't mean you want it to be wasted in a battle of wits.
"what's the damn point of taking measurements? we've got plenty of shit at home to wear."
"no, you don't. I do, but you guys have nothing properly formal enough for a gala, and im sick of renting suits when i can just make something and save some money in the process. do you know how expensive it is to rent a suit? no, because you're loaded, so up."
"i did enough of this kinda shit growin' up, i aint dealing with it when im not even livin' with my folks anymore."
you roll your tongue across your teeth, squeezing the space between your eyes with your fingers and holding yourself back.
"come on, kats, don't be such a fun sponge," eijirou tries to help. knocking him lightly in the side with his elbow, katsuki just huffs and looks at the nearest clock as if gauging when your workday was supposed to end and how long he can keep this up.
"fine," you heave, tossing your measuring tape at his chest before it flops onto his legs. "have it your way."
"that's what I tho-"
"I'll just call mitsuki and she can give me your measurements." there was a slight pause after your claim settles into the air you three occupy.
"what?" he almost sounded like he didn't believe you. but oh how serious you are.
"go on, shoo." you walk back towards your main desk with your computer and grab your purse where you start digging around for your phone. "i have a phone call to make, so go somewhere else if you're not going to be useful. oh, eijirou you can stay though if you want."
"hey!" katsuki, pulling his arms off the back of the couch, both offended that he was being kicked out while his boyfriend got to stay and miffed because- were seriously going to call his mom? over his measurements? god, who knows what else could come out of that hag's mouth if you call her asking for that. the last thing he needed was you and his mother commenting on how small his waist was or worse.
you plant yourself in your desk chair and pull over a notepad and pen to write down the oncoming numbers you would be getting one way or the other. katsuki springs from the loveseat when he sees the phone line start dialing from across the room against your cheek.
the phone rings twice and you're ready to apologize for calling in the middle of the work day when she picks up, but before you could your phone was ripped from your hand and away from your cheek.
"wha- katsuki!" you utter in disbelief.
"ignore this," he huffs before hanging up the call and tossing your tape measure into your face.
"take your stupid ass measurements, but you don't get this back for a while." the blond tosses your phone over to kirishima who had been gleefully watching the free entertainment. the red head catches it easily and safely tucks it into his pocket.
"traitor," you send his way across the room and he just shrugs.
"sorry, boyfriend's orders."
"that's right," katsuki backs him up with his arms crossed and you return the sentiment by jabbing him in the side with the back of your pen. "now hurry up, this offer expires soon."
"i hate you," you groan as you get up and untangle your measuring tape to start the process of finally getting what you needed.
"no you don't."
"i wish i did."
"liar."
"shut up, im concentrating."
he hates to admit it, but the group of coordinating matching outfits you three all wear to the gala weeks later was totally worth pushing your buttons for. plus, it was cute to rile you up sometimes.
(mitsuki did call his cell later that day to explain why it's incredibly rude to hang up on his mother. he hung up on her again.)
#bakugou x reader#kirishima x reader#kiribaku x reader#kiribaku fluff#kiribaku x reader fluff#kiribaku x y/n#kiribaku x y/n fluff#bnha#boku no hero academia x reader#bnha x reader#bnha x y/n
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What do I deserve, really?
Will should've known better. He really should've.
When Nico had first mentioned the idea of a family dinner ("Persephone's just about dying to meet you, she'll turn me into a flower if you stay away any longer"), Will had been elated. It meant another significant step in their relationship; it meant they were becoming serious. Not to mention, he had always wanted to meet Hades. Call him weird, but he had a strange fascination with death. He was a medic, after all, and however much he studied and healed and learned, there were always surprises in store for him. Death was an infinite topic; Will would've gladly sat through a lyceum taught by Hades.
But now, as he sat at the dinner table in the Underworld king's palace, he wished he had just thrown his boyfriend under the bus and let him be turned into a flower.
It was just the four of them- Will, Nico, Hades, and Persephone. They each sat on one side of the long, rectangular wooden table, which would've been a nice table had there not been literal skulls hanging off the sides. Just his luck, he was seated all the way across from Nico.
He couldn't tell what was worse. Persephone's onslaught of rapid questions ("You're the camp medic, correct? The one for the past few years?" "Tell me, are children of Apollo allergic to lies? I've always wondered." "How did you and Nico meet?"), Hades's stony silence (the closest thing to conversation Will had made with him was a request to pass the salt, which he'd done with rather unnecessary force), or the amused glint in Nico's eyes as he watched the scene unfold. Will was very tempted to strangle him, except choking your boyfriend in front of said boyfriend's father was probably not the wisest move.
The only thing that kept Will remotely close to sane was the food. It may have been the Underworld, kingdom of the dead, but the food was spectacular. 5/5 stars. Hades truly didn't accept anything but the best.
He gulped. He hoped Hades would lower his standards for him; Will wasn't exactly the best, compared to other demigods. Like Percy Jackson, for one. But then again, Hades hated Percy with a vehement passion, so maybe that was all for the best.
But the dinner wasn't bad, per se. It was awkward, sure, and very much uncomfortable. But Will Solace was the master of uncomfortable. He was a veteran of 2 wars, had saved more campers than he would've ever dreamed of; he'd spent sleepless nights, working to aid injuries and prevent death. He could do uncomfortable.
At least, that was what he thought.
Hades signaled the skeleton waiter to take up their plates and prepare for the dessert course, then leaned towards Will. His eyes were dark, obsidian. Like Nico's, his mind thought unhelpfully.
"So...Will," Hades said his name slowly, like he was testing out the sound of it. It was probably just his nature, but Will got the strong impression that Hades had spent the appetizer and main dish courses analyzing him, sizing him up. Probably wondering why the hell Nico had even given him a second glance. "I understand you and my son have been...courting, for a while now."
Courting? Will bit his lip to hold back his laughter. It was such an old-fashioned term, yet Hades looked completely serious. "Yes, sir," he responded, trying to sound as amiable as possible. He schooled his features into an expression of utmost respect; across the table, Nico (the little shit) was smirking again. Will refused to make eye contact with him (first of all, Nico had absolutely NO business looking that good in his father's palace of all places).
Hades studied him, those dark eyes unnerving. It reminded him of how Nico first used to look at him- distrustfully, coldly. He involuntarily flinched.
The corner of Hades's mouth twitched at the movement. "I am sure you know by now that Nico has incredibly high standards."
"I do," agreed Nico- were they ganging up on him? A father-son duo? Gods, Will should've asked for Apollo to be invited; but then again, the sun god would probably rather be stripped of mortality again than step foot into the Underworld.
Will swallowed nervously and licked his lips; they were getting dry. Had he drank water today? He was supposed to stay hydrated; he of all people knew the dangers of dehydration. "Yes, sir," he said, almost hoarsely.
Hades leaned forward then, further this time. His eyes flashed. "Let me ask you something then..." There was something in his tone that incited a sliver of apprehension within Will's chest. Nico's face grew serious, like he, too could hear it.
"Do you believe you're worthy of my son?"
Nico stiffened up, his face flashing with unidentifiable emotions. Persephone's eyebrows shot up, and she gave her husband a look. Not surprised, but unimpressed, like she knew something along these lines would happen and disapproved.
Will felt a warm flush creep upon his face. He stared at Hades, stomach lurching unpleasantly. For some reason, his lips seemed to be sealed tight, and determined not to re-open.
"I..."
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So this is part 1 of my angsty will + solangelo fic :))) i'll post part 2 prolly sometime this week lmao but until then enjoy this load of shit
edit: part 2 is up! check my blog :)
#percy jackson#pjo#pjo fandom#percy jackson fandom#pjo fic#solangelo#solangelo fic#will solace#nico di angelo#angst??#part 1#will solace centric fic
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hi! ok so i'm going to talk about one of my top-five favourite things, which is: dyeing stuff! this is going to be specifically about dyeing protein fibres (animal fibres—wool, alpaca, silk, etc) in a pretty low-key way in your kitchen.
to be clear up front: this is not the most scientific, most perfectly reproducible, or most Objectively Correct way to dye things. i get a lot of fibre that i like this way, though, and i think that other people can, too.
fibre i've dyed that i think is neat:
you can also dye yarn like this:
yes, i like blue a lot. i also really like variegation and heathering, which is why most of the fibre here has patches of white—it's an intentional choice that i've made. you can make different choices.
here is what you need to dye things:
fibre, vinegar, dye, a pot, heat, and some water.
that was so you don't get overwhelmed by the impending wall of text. here is what you need to dye things (it's the same stuff!), but with way more detail:
fibre or yarn. this is the big one, obviously. i tend to dye in 100-200 gram batches, because that's approximately what fits on my stovetop easily. if you're very nervous about felting or harming your fibre, you can use stuff that's been treated to be superwash, start with yarn (which is harder to felt than fibre is), or use a felt-resistant breed like dorset or suffolk. honestly, though, i learned with merino because that's what i had, and it was fine. again, though, this guide is only for protein fibres. it will not work for things like cotton. the only exception to this is nylon, which will take on some colour, but less than a protein fibre will.
a mordant. this is a fancy way of saying a thing that makes dye stick, and for what we're doing here, it's citric acid or vinegar. your grocery store definitely has at least one of them, though if you can choose, i prefer citric acid, because i love wet wool smell but i do not always love wet wool vinegar smell.
dye. i use acid dyes, and am personally deeply loyal to dharma acid dyes, but ashford and jacquard acid dyes work the same way. if you don't want to buy dye or don't have access to it, food colouring will often work, as well, though i haven't tried this with natural food colourings and have no idea how well they'll work.
a dedicated dye pot. ok, if you're doing food dyes, you don't need this. if you're not, it's definitely best practice, though i don't know how dangerous it is not to. any large metal pot will do, but my favourite option is hotel pans, which are those huge metal pan/tray things that hold food at buffets and the like. i have a full-size one that's 15cm deep, and a half-size one that's 4cm deep. they're great because they let you lay out the fibre you're working with so you can see most of it in a single layer.
dedicated dye utensils. as before, i don't know how much of a huge deal this is. i'll be honest and admit that for several years i had a single pair of tongs that got used for all tong-requiring events, including dyeing, and i'm still alive. i suggest that you have at least a big spoon, and a big spoon and tongs are even better.
something to mix the dye in. yeah, i use empty plastic sports drink or soda bottles for this. you can be fancy and get mason jars or little squirt bottles or whatever, and if you get super into dyeing you'll want to mix up dye stocks, but that's way outside the scope of what we're doing here. i like the powerade bottles that have a little squirty mouthpiece, because it's fun to squirt dye onto things.
personal protective equipment. i think this is the part of things that freaks people out. ideally, you wear plastic gloves and a mask (yeah, like your covid masks) when you're working with dye. realistically, i almost never remember to put on gloves and just accept that my hands are going to be blue sometimes. you should wear a mask, because dye is an irritant, but the world is an imperfect place and i have wicked bad adhd and sometimes i forget. this isn't advice. i'm just being honest. you should use some kind of safety stuff. you probably won't die if you don't.
you might also want some little random bits: an old toothbrush or paintbrush, a pipe cleaner, some toothpicks, etc. this is mostly if you like speckles, or if you want very small patches of colour.
so first: there are a million ways to dye things, and i'm not convinced that any of them are objectively correct. i do what i do and it works for me. some of the things i do are the opposite of what most guides suggest, but i do them because i like the effects they create.
ok, that's all the background stuff you need. let's dye some stuff!
the number one most important thing to remember when you're dyeing is this:
you can always add more colour. you cannot take it away.
that's in fancy writing and bold because every once in a while i forget this, and every single time i end up regretting it.
here is how to dye things:
put water, citric acid (or vinegar), and fibre into a pot. add dye and heat. let cool completely. rinse the fibre in cool water, then hang to dry.
like, sure, we're going to go into way more detail, but push come to shove, if you do that, you're going to end up with dyed fibre. there are a lot of tutorials telling you that you must soak your fibre first, or you must add your citric acid this way, or hold the water at exactly this temperature, and i'm here to tell you that while any of these things can give you different results, those results aren't necessarily better.
the only way that you can totally screw this up is by accidentally felting your fibre, so before i get into the way more detail part of things, i'm going to talk about that.
how not to felt your fibre
i feel like if you've read this far, you know how things felt: wool, heat, and agitation. you may also notice that at least two of these things are required for dyeing. this can be stressful! but you don't have to be afraid of it. there's only been one time that i felted something to the point that it was unusable, and that happened because i literally fell asleep for several hours while the pot was on the stove. you can avoid doing this by simply setting an alarm—this is a good idea anyhow, because you'll want to check on your dye pot!
when you're dyeing, use the lowest heat that you can while still keeping the water at a simmer. if your stove, like mine, has one burner that's wildly unpredictable and sort of out of control, you may want to look for some sort of flame diffuser, also called a flame tamer or a simmer ring. i bought one on amazon for about fourteen dollars, and it's literally just a thick metal circle. it works fine.
you can also keep the heat low by using a pot with a thick bottom, though in my experience those are expensive, and if i had one i would be using it for soup, not wool.
avoid shocking your wool—never put room temperature wool into hot water, and never put hot wool into cold water. leave your wool in the dye bath until it's cooled completely, which for me usually means overnight.
finally, obviously you have to move the fibre around some. you'll need to peek under it in the pan, and when you're done, you have to rinse it and squish out the water. try to minimise handling, though. don't run water directly onto the fibre, don't get a wooden spoon and stir your dye pot around, don't wring the fibre dry when it's done.
you're probably never going to be perfect. i often find that i lose a gram or two of wool where fibres have grabbed onto each other, or where parts of the ends clumped up. it's not really felted, just sort of compacted, but it's not great to work with, and i'd rather lose a gram of fibre than fuss with the clumpy bits.
back to how to dye things
let's take it step by step, assuming a hundred grams of fibre.
put your pan on the stove and fill it halfway with water. add either a teaspoon of citric acid or a tablespoon of vinegar. this is going to help the dye strike, or stick to the fibre. the teaspoon/tablespoon is a guideline, but one that it's fine to exceed. adding more will help the dye strike faster, which can be useful if you're trying to create blocks of colour on your fibre. i usually err on the side of a little more than the guidelines, and just eyeball this—if you feel like the dye isn't taking well, you can add more later.
add your fibre to the pan. this is the first place you have to think about what you want the finished fibre to look like! you can put it into the pan any way you want, but i suggest trying to keep it in a relatively even layer, regardless of what that layer looks like. here are some ways to get specific effects:
if you want a gradient from one end of the fibre to the other, use a rectangular pan and lay your fibre out so that the line of it is parallel to the short sides of the pan
if you want a short, repeating gradient, use a rectangular pan and lay your fibre out so that the line of it is parallel to the long sides of the pan
if you want something that starts with very close repeats that get further apart as you go down the fibre, make an approximate spiral
if you don't want A Pattern (i usually don't) just lay things out in a single layer, more or less
here comes the next exciting part! decide if you want to let your fibre soak or not. again, doing or not doing this gives you some different effects!
soaking your fibre will mean that dye takes more evenly. if you want consistent colours, you'll want to soak.
not soaking your fibre means that the dye takes less evenly. the fibre on top will have less acid available to it, spends less time in the dye bath, and also has to actually get wet before it will start to dye. i actually love doing this, and think it affords a lot of cool opportunities to play with and layer colours.
if you're soaking, leave the fibre there until it's submerged. if not, don't.
now you're going to add dye! decision time, again.
you can add dye when the water is cold, which will give you more even dye coverage, and in my experience gives the colours more time to mix together
you can add dye when when the water is hot, which will give you less even coverage, and tends to encourage the colours to stay more delineated
probably surprising no one, i tend to heat the water first unless i'm starting with a base colour or i'm doing a two-colour gradient.
time to mix up some dye
as i mentioned earlier, i'm assuming that you're using powered acid dyes for this. if you're not, this mixing up part is technically optional—but doing it gives you way more control about how and where you place your colours, so i'm going to assume that you'll do it.
i usually mix dye in some sort of empty drink bottle. regardless of what you're using, before you add dye to anything, put some water in the bottle, wipe off the lip, put the lid on tightly, and shake the bottle vigorously. if there is any leakage at all, do not use that bottle. find a better bottle. if your bottle cap doesn't seal well or if you have an empty condiment bottle that's just a little wonky or whatever, you will get dye all over the kitchen, and your landlord will be really really mad about it, and you will regret your life choices. (if you own your kitchen, you can do whatever you want, but this isn't about you and you know it.)
so you have a bottle that seals tightly! great job. dump out the water and carefully put some dye powder into the bottle. remember earlier how i said you should be wearing a mask? this is the part where you should be wearing a mask.
i know that people are reading this and going, ok, but how much dye do i put in?
my answer is put in the amount that feels right in your heart, and don't forget the number one rule of dyeing things, which is that you can always add more colour, but you cannot take it away.
this isn't a very scientific answer. most dyes have a guideline about how much to use, expressed as a percentage of the dry weight of the fibre, which is what you use to get the whole quantity of fibre dyed evenly. for dharma dyes, it's like 1.5-2%, i think ashford is 1%, and jacquard is more like 2-4%, depending on the colour.
here is the problems with doing that in your kitchen: first, using that much dye will get you an evenly dyed piece of fibre, which—for me, at least—is basically the opposite of what i want. second, and more importantly, unless you have one of those teeny tiny scales used by jewelers and drug dealers, your kitchen scale will not weigh out such tiny quantities with any accuracy. third, if you do it like this, you really have to plan what you're doing ahead of time, because there's a point after which no more dye will bind! the fibre will be like enough thank u that's it i'm good and that'll be it, so you lose some of your ability to decide that actually, you want more green.
you can probably guess, at this point, that i don't weigh the dye. once you've done a couple batches of fibre with a given brand of dye, you'll start to get the vibes for how much you should use. if you really want a guideline, for a hundred grams of fibre, start with a quarter teaspoon of a given colour. you can add more—either more of this colour or a different one—later, as desired.
put your dye in the empty bottle, and then fill the bottle partway with hot water. the amount of water doesn't really matter here, nor does the specific temperature of the water. i usually fill about 3/4 of the way, because that way there's plenty of room for this next step, which is: wipe the lip of the bottle, recap it tightly, and then shake it up real good. the dye powder is going to dissolve into the water, and you now have a bottle of dye!
if you're going for a gradient, you might want to mix up your second colour so you can add them at (basically) the same time for more even mixing. if you're not, or if you only have one mixing bottle, you can do them one at a time.
oh my god we're finally putting dye on the fibre
are you ready? it's time!!
you have basically infinite options for how to do this, and many of them will give you different effects. here are some ideas:
pour the dye all at one side of the pan. and if you don't add anything else, your fibre will fade from the colour of the dye to the natural colour of the fibre
pour two colours, one at either side of the pan. depending on how much dye you use (and remember, you can always add more), this will give you either chunks of colour surrounded by white, or a two-colour gradient
add all the dye to unheated water and mix it gently, then let the fibre soak for a few minutes longer before turning on the heat. this will give you a fairly even colour
pour randomly all over, and you'll either end up with a tonal yarn or a heathered one, depending on how much dye you're using
add the dye to the water under the dry fibre, which will sink in and take up more dye on the bottom of the fibre than the top
if your heat wasn't on before, it should be now, and you're going to let the dye hang out in the hot but not boiling water for a while. how long? well, one of the cool things about dyeing with these dyes is that they exhaust, which means that when the dye has been sucked up by the fibre, the surrounding water will be clear. how long this takes will depend on the specific dye, how much of it you used, how much mordant you used, etc. i try to check every fifteen minutes.
reminder: if you started with room temperature water, the dye's not going to start taking until the water heats up, so don't check it after fifteen minutes and freak out that nothing has happened. it is fully normal for it to take up to an hour for the dye to exhaust. don't turn up the temperature, just give it time.
yay it worked!
at this point, you have a pot of hot water with some beautifully coloured fibre in it! but maybe it's not beautiful enough. maybe you want...more colours.
that's cool as hell and you should go for it. we mentioned two-colour gradients up there, but what if you want something else?
the answer, probably obviously, is adding more dye.
first, a caveat: while you can successfully make multicoloured gradients like this, it's more difficult than you think, and if it gets messed up—all the colours bleed into each other, say—it turns into a muddy mess. my suggestion is to stick to two (or three at most!) colour gradients until you have a much better feel for what you're doing.
let's talk about ways you can add more colour. you have two options: big colour and little colour.
big colour is going to add a lot of colour—you're going to mix up the dye and pour it just like you did before, but paying more attention to places that don't have dye yet. sometimes it's the middle of a gradient, or the white splotches from random pouring, or the half of the fibre that wasn't submerged when you started. or maybe you dyed the whole thing yellow, and now you want to add a blue gradient over top. whatever!
if you don't want to freehand pour, consider buying a couple large syringes, or a bottle with a squeezy top. these are also fun because you can easily get more colour between the laid-out fibre, or even under it.
in the pictures at the start of this post, the red-and-gold top and both yarns were dyed by adding big colour.
little colour isn't going to add big patches, but is going to add speckling, tonal depth, or smaller patches of colour. all of the blue-base fibres and the yellow-and-blue yarn were dyed like this.
if you're still reading this closely, you might have caught that i just said both yarns were dyed with big colour, and that the yellow-and-blue yarn was also dyed with little colour. these are both true! the base colours of the yarn were done to make big colour, but if you look at the full-size image, there are also a bunch of speckles. you can do whatever you want! no one can stop you!
here are some ways to add little colour:
mix up some dye, but use less water. add drops of the dye, either directly onto the fibre (more dramatic!) or in the water (tonal!)
use a toothpick to grab a little bit of dye powder and drop it into the dye bath (similar to the previous one, but a little less predictable)
put on a damn facemask. take a clean toothbrush, paintbrush, or pipecleaner, and just barely touch it to the dye powder. gently flick or tap the brush to add speckles of that colour
find a salt shaker that you're never going to use for anything but this. put citric acid, salt (to make it distribute better), and dye powder into it, and shake it up (with the holes covered, please cover the holes) to make sure they're evenly distributed. gently shake this over the fibre to add speckles, but more of them, and clustered together
put a little dye in a spray bottle and gently mist the exposed fibre, kinda glazing it with colour
another thing is that if you like a natural coloured yarn with dyed speckles, you can do any of these techniques without doing big colour first. the only thing to note when doing this is that you'll want to be very sure to spread out the fibre well, and maybe to consider dyeing one side, then very very carefully flipping it over and getting the other side.
ok, now what?
let's say that you've added all the colours that you want, and you've let your bath simmer long enough that the water is clear, or nearly clear. (if it's not, check troubleshooting, below.)
put the lid on your pan and walk away. if you don't have a lid, just walk away, but it's less dramatic.
the super frustrating part here is that the safest thing to do is wait until the water and fibre is fully cooled before you do anything else.
have i ignored this? yes
has it ever gone horribly wrong? not horribly wrong, but it's definitely caused me to lose an inch or two of roving on occasion
is it way more stressful if you don't wait? absolutely yes
honestly maybe just go to bed and deal with your fibre in the morning
so now let's say that it's morning and you slept long enough that your water and fibre are both room temperature, which often actually feels quite cool on your hands.
you have to drain your fibre. there are two ways to do this:
lift the fibre out of the water. this has the upside of not risking dumping your beautiful fibre into your sink, and not needing to maneuver a full pot of water, both of which are admirable. the downside is that wet fibre is fragile, and you'll want to be careful to support it.
dump the water out of the pan. this has the upside of minimising how much handling you're doing of the fibre, as well as (in my opinion) making rinsing easier. the downside is attempting to keep the fibre into the pot while you dump the water into the sink, and also needing to carry around a full pot of water.
secret third option: dump the fibre (and the water) into a strainer. upside: very easy, and you can keep the fibre in the strainer while you rinse, minimising both how much it needs to be handled and the weight on the fibre. downside: i never remember that this is an option until i'm already elbows-deep in acidulated water, discovering every tiny cuticle tear.
you're going to fill your dyepot with water again so that you can rinse the fibre. you want to minimise thermal shock, so keep the water temperature as close to the temperature of the fibre as you can, and don't run the water directly onto the fibre. i like to pull all the fibre to one side of the pan, and fill the pan on the other side.
side note: if you, smart person, remembered that you can use a colander, simply fill a pot with water, put the colander in the pot, and gently agitate the colander.
if you, person who is deeply relatable, did not remember you can use a colander and now have a pot with clean water and fibre, gently move your fibre in the water to encourage any excess dye and also citric acid to get out of there.
drain your fibre again, and this time, you're going to squeeze it dry. you're still trying to minimise agitation, so this isn't a 'wring it out' situation, it's a 'gently squish it between your hands and/or a hand and the side of the pot' situation.
hang your fibre to dry. remember what i was saying earlier about it being fragile? let me suggest, here, that you do not simply drape the entire length over a single hanger or something and hope for the best. if you literally have a single hanger, at least drape it back and forth a bit, but better if you can use more than one hanger, or a clothes drying rack, or that weird metal wine rack thing that came with your fridge that you've never used, or whatever.
important reminder: drip-drying things will make your floor wet! if you live somewhere very clear with no major roads or pollen nearby, you can probably dry things outside, but if you don't, you'll probably want to position the drying rack in a bath, shower, laundry area, or otherwise over something that will catch and/or absorb the water.
how long it takes for the fibre to dry is another unknowable variable. if it's warm and dry where you are, it might literally be overnight. if it's damp and cool, it can take days. the batch i posted a couple days ago literally took almost a full week to dry. spread it out as best you can, gently squeeze out the water you can, and otherwise you just have to wait.
you're done!
when it's dry, that's it, you're done! you might find that you need to pick off some little lint balls or a bit of compacted or slightly felted fibre from the tips, but other than that, you should be good to go.
like most fibre stuff, this is best maintained by handwashing in cool water. you may see a little bit of dye or colour loss the first time you wash it, which is pretty normal and nothing to worry about.
congratulations! you made it to the end of this incredibly long post, and if you followed along, you've just dyed some fibre!
troubleshooting
this isn't dyed enough! i want more colours!
add more dye! i'm not the boss of you.
this is true even after the fibre is all done and dryed. there's nothing that says you can't dye it again—you can, and i have.
some fibre seems to require more dye than others. silk, for example, dyes beautifully with acid dyes, but also needs way more dye than i expect it to.
remember that if you're dyeing something that's a wool/cotton blend, for example, the cotton isn't going to dye. the only exception is nylon, which will kinda dye, but not as dramatically. this guide will not work for plant fibres.
this is too dyed! i want fewer colours!
please refer back to the number one most important thing about dyeing, which—as you know—is: you can always add more colour, but you cannot take it away.
pull out some more fibre and try again. this has a learning curve, just like any other fibre craft.
these colours don't look like i expected!
this can be about a lot of things.
colour guides, especially if you're looking at them online, aren't always very accurate.
colour guides tend to assume that you're dyeing a single colour at the suggested dye percentage of weight, and using less than that will give paler colours.
dyes, especially if you're mixing brands, can interact with each other and behave in ways you didn't expect.
dyes can also break, which is when they split into their component colour molecules. this happens commonly with blacks and browns, food colouring, and anything that dharma trading has marked as 'advanced'. some people find this very desirable and seek it out; some people are very frustrated by it.
the ph of your water can sometimes affect your dye. i've been lucky enough that i've only lived places with lead problems, not weird ph stuff, so i haven't investigated this closely, but if you're consistently not getting the results you expect, even going for a single, solid-colour dye, look at the ph.
my dye water's not clear!
if you used a quarter teaspoon of dye and a hundred grams of fibre, and it's been, say, 45 minutes of actually hot water and your water still isn't clear, you probably didn't use enough mordant, and you should add some more citric acid or vinegar to encourage the dye to get in there and do its thing.
if you used you used more like a teaspoon of dye, or if the citric acid doesn't change anything, you used too much dye for your fibre. you can either shrug and pour it down the drain, or you can add some more fibre and dye that, too.
my rinse water's not clear!
you probably used too much dye. it's ok—just keep rinsing it, gently, until it's more or less clear.
some colours just like to run—you know how every once in a while you get a yarn and it just bleeds a little bit every time you wash it? sometimes it's just like that. i wouldn't worry about it too much.
my fibre has felty/clumpy bits!
a little bit of this is normal, especially at the ends of a fibre that felts easily (this means you, merino!)
pick off the bits that you don't like—this is generally fairly easy, and involves very minimal fibre loss. i don't bother doing it until i sit down to spin, and then just pull off bits as i come to them.
if there's a lot of felty/clumpy bits, more than you can reasonably pick out, you agitated the fibre too much. there's not much for this other than trying to card it out, which may or may not work.
sometimes this happens because your stove got weirdly aggressive and boiled your fibre. especially for wool that's prone to felting, the bubbling and jostling can be enough to encourage more clinginess than you'd like.
i want my dyeing to be reproducible!
this is kinda doable. it's a handmade thing, so it's always going to have some natural variance, but you can do it.
buy a jeweler's scale that measures in fractions of a gram.
start measuring your dye and acid, and take detailed notes about what you do.
follow those notes in the future, and you'll be probably 90% of the way there.
i want to dye with natural dyes!
i fully support this and have played around with it a little bit myself, but absolutely do not know enough about it to advise you.
the internet is very large and full of many people who are much smarter than i am, and i feel confident that at least one of them is desperate to tell you all about how to do natural dyeing.
i am, at this point, not that person.
i want to dye plant fibres!
i am begging you to find another guide, because this one will not work.
you didn't answer my question!
that's what my inbox is for
i have to reiterate that i'm just a person with real specific interests who started dyeing things because i couldn't find or afford the kinds of colourways that i wanted.
i am not a professional
i will do my best to answer questions, but sometimes the answer is 'just fuck around until you find out'
plant fi—
shhhhh
the end
thank you for reading this incredibly long post! i might make another one in the near future, either so i can show pictures or because i took out an entire section about how to choose colours and pick a colour scheme and work with colours, and i kinda want to talk more about that, but this is no joke almost six thousand words long, so i thought, you know. maybe not tonight.
anyhow, i hope that this was useful to someone! thank you for letting me talk about one of my very favourite things.
#dyeing#craftblr#fiber arts#fiber craft#fibre arts#fiber#fibre#dyeing wool#i'm sorry this is so long#it kinda got away from me#i just want to tell people about cool stuff!#and then talk about the cool stuff for an unreasonably long time#you know#like a normal person#anyhow this was fun#dyeing is super fun and you should try it#sorry to say that i am Not editing this#because i only edit things when people are paying me for them#but i did make my wife read it to make sure i got all the main stuff#so we should be good#still: sorry for any stylistic inconsistencies#smartest raccoon i know
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Headcanons: Being Married To Old Man Ray Stantz
MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI
Relationship(s): old man!Ray Stantz x gn!also old!reader (romantic)
Warnings: Possibly inaccurate science words, because I'm a simpleton. (Let me know if I need to add any)
(A/N: Here's my first Ghostbusters thing! I've got a few other Ghostbusters fics in the works, mostly Ray-based reader-inserts because I'm in love with him, but I've also got a Phoebe-centric character study in the works that's based on part of her storyline in Frozen Empire. By the way, I loved Frozen Empire! I've already seen it three times, and it's such a joy. I'll try to catch it a couple more times at least before it leaves cinemas. Anyway, I haven't included any explicit spoilers for Frozen Empire in this, so you're safe to read this if you haven't seen it yet. I'd love to write more old man Ray Stantz fics, especially something involving Phoebe. I'm really excited to write for Ghostbusters, so feel free to send in requests! I've only seen the movies, but I plan on watching the Real Ghostbusters at some point soon. Also, even though I took my mum to see Frozen Empire the other day, I still don't have anyone to talk to about this movie, so please feel free to talk to me about it!)
It’s evident that, even after all of these years, Ray is still madly in love with you.
The adoration with which he looks at you is clear as day.
Venkman has always loved to tease you both about how sickly sweet your relationship is.
He will make fake gagging when either of you are affectionate to one another when he’s around.
(He won’t admit it, but he actually finds your relationship to be kind of cute)
It’s not like either of you are overly lovey-dovey, especially now.
Ray’s naturally a very passionate and expressive guy, but he’s rarely mushy.
Still, you show one another how much you care.
I have this idea that your silent way of saying ‘I love you’ to each other is holding the other’s hand, stroking their knuckles with your thumb and smiling at them.
It just seems so cute to have this thing that you’ve been doing for your whole relationship.
Ray knows you like the back of his hand, and you know him just the same.
It’s almost scary how well you know one another.
I can imagine that there’s been a time that someone’s asked one of you a question, and the other has been able to answer it with ease.
I love the idea of Ray being with someone who’s not a scientific mind like himself.
So, if you’re not as knowledgeable about the supernatural as Ray, you’ll still have picked up on plenty of information against your will, and Ray will always be impressed with and proud of you when you manage to regurgitate or understand his ‘science-y word salad’ (as you have referred to it).
He will also find it very attractive when you talk supernatural or science to him, but he tries not to make it obvious.
His eyes still light up like he’s a kid on Christmas when he explains supernatural stuff to you or tells you about a new psychically charged item he’s bought, and you find it so endearing.
Also, I can imagine him practically forcing you to listen to Podcast’s podcast when he discovers it, and you both end up getting really into it.
As devoted as he still is to his work and his supernatural endeavours, spending time with you is his greatest priority.
He might miss being an active Ghostbuster, but the silver lining of it is that he gets more time with you than he ever used to.
Even if you both used to be Ghostbusters, it’s nice to spend time together that doesn’t involve being covered in ghost slime and shouting over nuclear accelerators.
If you’ve not got anything else to do, I think it’d be sweet if you kept him company in his store.
Phoebe and Trevor are your honorary grandkids and you and Ray are beyond proud of them, especially Phoebe, who you’re closest to of the two of them.
Phoebe will always remind the both of you of Egon, so whenever she does something particularly Egon-like, you will exchange a knowing glance, and when she’s gone you’ll end up reminiscing about your old friend.
If Phoebe or the other Spenglers ever want to hear about Egon, you’re both more than happy to talk to them about him.
Even in his golden years, Ray is still the same sweet, passionate, excitable man you married all those years ago.
Sure, the regular excitement that came with Ghostbusting is long behind you both, but you both cherish this quieter time together just as much.
#ghostbusters x reader#ray stantz x reader#ghostbusters#ray stantz#x reader#x gn!reader#x gender neutral!reader#x gender neutral reader#x gn reader#phoebe spengler
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Reverse Proposal ~ *Idia Shroud*
Summary: Ortho informs you of Idia's idea to propose to you. As sweet as the thought is, you thought you would be the one to propose first. So you decide to put your plan into action that night...
Pairing: Idia Shroud X Fem!Reader
Genre: Fluffy Oneshot
Word Count: 1311
Warning: Post-Graduation
Masterlist
Taglist: @savanaclaw1996 @goseew
Ortho was concerned about his big brother, which was never a good sign. You knew he was worried when he asked you to meet with him on short notice. Your concern grew when you saw him pacing his room and trying to find the right words to say to you.
“Look, Ortho, dear, if it’s bad news, just tell me fast, like ripping off a band-aid.” You tried to assure him, though you weren’t sure you could handle bad news.
He paused. “I think Idia wants to propose to you.”
You blinked in shock. Well this was certainly an unexpected turn of events. Sure, you and Idia had been dating for several years, both at Night Raven and post-graduation. But you didn't think he'd be the one to want to propose. You kind of just figured that would fall to you, which you were more than okay with.
As you sat there thinking over Ortho's words, your silence only elevated his sense of worry.
"At least that's what I think." He explained. "But with how he's been acting recently, I'm almost certain he wants to propose. He's been talking about his love for you more often and I've seen him look at jewelry store websites. From my research, those are all sign's that someone wants to propose to their significant other."
“Ortho.” You say with a soft smile. “I planned on proposing to him.”
His eyes widened with shock before crinkling in the corners as he smiled. "Really?! Oh, that makes me so happy to hear! You and big brother Idia deserve each other!"
You giggled at his excitement and pulled a small box out of your pocket to show him the engagement band you purchased a couple days ago. “See? I picked it out myself. Do you think he'll like it?”
He nodded eagerly. "Oh, he'll love it! It's very pretty! I'm so excited to have you as my sister-in-law!"
With warm cheeks, you nodded. “That is, if you’ll have me.”
“Of course! Big Brother Idia really cares for you and never stops talking about you!” He explained before quickly adding, “And I like you too, of course.”
You chuckled and patted the top of his head, much to his pleasure. “That's good to hear, Ortho. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go propose to your brother.”
“Be prepared for tears.” Ortho nodded all matter-of-fact like. "He is sure to cry a river as long as the River Styx from your proposal."
You laughed and nodded. You had no doubt Idia was going to cry. But you didn't mind. You were just excited to finally propose to him.
It surprisingly didn’t take you long to get a plan together on how to go about your proposal. You wanted to keep things simple, sweet, and all about him. You didn't want to overwhelm him more when was already going to be emotional. A nice dinner at home with all his favorite foods sounded like just the way to go. And then you would slide the ring across the table, pop the question, and boom! You two would be engaged!
You got butterflies just thinking about it!
As you were cooking in the kitchen, you heard a soft knock on the wall. There was Idia, smiling sweetly at you. "I'm home."
You returned his smile. "How was your day, dearest?"
He shrugged and watched you cook. "It was fine. And yours?"
"Not too bad."
"What are you making?"
You smile at the food on the stove, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Your favorite.”
"Oh, really?" He sounded surprised. "Is today a special occasion? Did I forget an anniversary?!"
You chuckle and shake your head. "No, I just felt like doing something special for you. Is that alright?"
He smiled widely and nodded. "That's more than alright. Thank you, my love. Thank you very much."
"You're very welcome." You press a kiss to his cheek, making his hair burn red. "Do you mind setting the table? I'm almost done here."
He nodded and before too long, you were both eating and enjoying each other’s company at your little dining table. Of course Idia complimented your cooking, saying it was the best thing he’s ever eaten in his entire life. You listened to him talk about his day and he listened to you talk about yours. In the back of your head, you were squealing about the sweet domesticity of the moment and how the two of you would soon be doing this for the rest of your lives.
You couldn’t wait, but you planned to pop the question during dessert, so you had to be patient for just a little bit longer.
When you were done with the main meal, you mentioned dessert, and while you prepared it, he did the dishes. This was the perfect opportunity to check your pocket to make sure you still had the ring. It would be super embarrassing if you had to quickly sneak into your room to grab it. However, you had the ring. You were set and ready to put this plan into action.
You let him take a couple of bites of dessert before you took a deep breath and grabbed the ring from your pocket. Setting it on the table, you slowly slid it in between the two of you. Your eyes never left his face, gauging his reaction.
Idia’s eyes widened as he followed your hand. He had stopped chewing and stared at the ring before him. You had no idea what he was running through his head, but you wished you did. He looked thoroughly freaked out and that was the last thing you wanted. But you were too far to turn back now.
Taking a deep breath, you said, “Idia, dearest, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time and I finally came to a conclusion. I love you so much, I can’t imagine spending even a single day apart. So I want to ensure we will never have to. Will you marry me?”
There was a pause.
You held your breath.
“You-” He breathed. “You really want to marry me?”
Nodding, you answered him, “Yes, I really do. And, in case you were worried, Ortho gave me his blessing. He was practically bouncing off the walls when I told him my plan.”
He shook his head as tears welled in his eyes. “I’m not all that worried about Ortho. He already loves you. I’m just shocked about this proposal. I don’t know what to say.”
Before you could reply, he pulled a ring of his own and handed it to you sheepishly. You gasped at the simple but elegant band studded with little sparkly sapphires. It was perfect. You couldn’t have picked a better ring if you had gone with him when he purchased it.
“I’ve wanted to propose to you for the longest time, but I was just so scared. I thought you'd say no and I'd lose you forever. But now, I'm not scared anymore. You make it so that I’m not scared of anything. You have stood by me during my lowest point and continue to push me when I’m at the top of my game. You’re everything I could want and more. I would love to spend the rest of our lives together.”
Tears pricked your eyes and you whispered, “I would love to marry you too, Idia.”
He gently took your hand and slid the ring onto your finger. You put your ring on his finger, keeping hold of his hand and rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. You couldn’t help but laugh.
“It’s like we just got married with this exchange of rings.”
Idia chuckled as he said, “Well, I guess there’s only one thing left to do.”
“And that is?”
“I may now kiss the bride.”
#Twisted Wonderland#Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction#Twisted Wonderland Oneshot#Anime#Anime Fanfiction#Anime Oneshot#Ignihyde#Idia Shroud#Idia Shroud X Reader#Idia Shroud Fanfiction#Idia Shroud Oneshot#Idia Shroud Fluff#Idia#Idia X Reader#Idia Fanfiction#Idia Oneshot#Idia Fluff#Proposal#Proposal AU#Oneshot#Fluff
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The Letter Pt. 2
Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem! reader
Warnings: She/Her pronouns used, Homophobia
Summary: Ellie and Y/N are in two very different social groups at school. One day when Y/N's crush is cruelly exposed in front of the whole school, Y/N is brutally shot down. Finally, four years later the two run into each other again.
(I changed it to four years so reader could go to college)
High School AU
Next part will probably be the last part. I'll probably upload it tmr.
Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3
*Not Proof Read* TLOU Masterlist
*****
Ever since the assembly my life turned into hell. Ellie dropped me as a tutor and I was placed with some random guy who constantly reminded me of what happened. Kids snickered in the halls. Certain teachers would shoot me looks of disapproval. Kids I've never talked to stuffed church pamphlets into my locker or invited me to church.
It went on for the last few months of my senior year. Whenever any major event took place, Vivian was sure to point me out in the bleachers and remind everyone what happened.
It got to the point where I stopped going to assembly's
At least I had Dina and Jesse. They stood by me through it all. I don't know what would've happened without them.
Whenever I saw Ellie in the halls I dodged her. If I didn't, she'd clearly talk about me to her friends who'd snicker and agree.
That stupid fucking letter made my life hell.
-----Five Years Later-----
My car beeps as I lock it. I glance up at the familiar bright sign before quickly making my way into the supermarket.
Things have changed.
With one look around I can already tell they remodeled the place. I have no idea where any of the shit Dina sent me to get is.
I guess that's what I get for staying away so long. I honestly didn't plan on coming back but I miss Dina and Jesse. I fell horrible staying away all these years.
The store is mostly empty. I mean, who the fuck wants to be out at 11 o'clock at night.
I look around for one of the workers. There has to be someone here.
A small laugh catches my attention.
A long strip of smoke floats up into the air. As I walk closer to the register I start to notice a smell: weed.
" Um, hey. Can you help me? " I ask, peeking over the side of the register.
A head jumps up in surprise, bumping against the top of the checkout stand. " Fuck. " They mutter in surprise, rubbing their would with the hand not holding the joint.
" Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. "
The woman shakes her head, shoving her phone into her back pocket. She snuffs the joint out. " It's fine. " She reassures me, not looking up. " Just don't call my boss, yeah? Fuck, I can't get another write up. Fucking Kaylee with have my ass. " She mutters.
I smile at her disheveled appearance. She obviously wasn't planning on anyone coming in. " Chill, I'm not a rat. I don't care what you do. I just need some help finding some stuff. It's been a while since I've been here. " I hand her the list.
I glance over her hunched form. She nods. Her hair is messily pulled back into a half up bun. A light green vest covers some band tee.
I glance down at the the register.
My heart stops.
" Ellie? "
The womans' head snaps up in confusion. The confusion soon spreads to surprise. " Y-Y/N? Fuck, is that you? " Her poster straightens and her grip on my list becomes visibly tighter.
Ellie's face looks much more tired then in high school. She looks much more mature.
My emotions hit me like a brick wall. Every angry and sad feeling I went through senior year comes tumbling back. Every mocking sentence and rude word hits me like a ton of bricks. It feels like I'm going through it again.
At the same time seeing her activates the old crush I had. While my heart feels like it's being torn to shreds, my stomach does summer saults.
My jaw tightens and I reach for the paper. " I don't need your help. " I mutter. I'll be damned if I let her into my life again. Even if it's just for a few minutes. " I'll go to another store. "
Ellie steps back, holding my paper away. With a head shake, she responds. " What other store? It's fucking Jackson. We're the only store here. "
She's right. We both know it.
" Then...then I'll just get it myself. Give me my fucking list. " I hold out my hand.
" Can we please talk. " Ellie's brows are furrowed. " I- "
I roll my eyes. " I have no interest in talking to you, Williams. " I snap. " Fine, I'll fucking find everything without it. " I begin walking away.
" Fine! " Ellie's voice trails after me. " Look, you don't have to talk to me. "
Fuck, what the hell did I put on that list? Why the hell did I give it to her? Fuck fuck fuck.
I think I'm supposed to get mayo? Wait no. Why the fuck would I need Mayo?
" All you have to do is listen. Please, Y/N. I know I don't fucking deserve it after what I put you through-what I did, but please. Just give me a few minutes of your time. " Ellie begs.
I turn to the girl. She doesn't look like the confident girl I knew years ago. She looks...regretful?
I sigh. " Fine. You have three minutes. "
A small smile of relief flashes across Ellie's features. " Fuck, thank you. "
I nod stiffly, crossing my arms across my body.
" I was a fucking asshole in high school. " Ellie swallows. " I let my friends dictate the way I acted. All I wanted was to be popular. During Freshman year, I got bullied so I started playing a bunch of sports. I befriended a bunch of jocks and eventually a bunch of other assholes who hung around them. I became one of them. I was so fucking scared of losing my place in the group. " Ellie blushes slightly. She glances up at the ceiling, obviously not proud of what she's telling me.
" Anyways, I did a bunch of fucked up shit to stay with them. What I did to you was by far the fucking worst. " Her green eyes meet mine. " And I'm so fucking sorry. I really am. The day of the assembly Vivian came into the room and took your letter out of your sketch book. She didn't tell me what was in it. I knew it was fucked up whatever she was planning, but I didn't think it'd be that bad. I thought she'd just...I don't know...Show a not so great picture you drew off to the school-which is still a dick move-but I didn't know what she was planning. " Ellie nervously wrings her wrist.
" I'm so fucking sorry, Y/N. I was so cruel to you. So fucking mean. " Ellie looks up at me. " I knew what I was doing was wrong and I still did it. I could've said something to help but I-I didn't. I was a fucking coward and I'm so sorry. I think about it all the time. What if I was you? What if it had been me? What if I had been outed in front of the school? What if people treated me the way they had treated you? What if I treated me the way I treated you? I was so scared people would find out I'm gay. I wasn't ready for people to know. I guess...I guess I thought that if the attention was on you, I could continue sneaking around without people finding out. I can't hide forever though, Y/N. And these past few years I've realized just how bad you had it. I'm so sorry. I don't know if you can ever forgive me, but I understand if you can't. Honestly, if I were you, I fucking wouldn't. " Ellie's face is red from embarrassment and shame.
She was scared. She was scared of what people would think if they knew she was gay.
" I was scared, Ellie. I was so fucking scared. I didn't want anyone to know either. I never planned on giving you that note. It was a stupid crush. Even though I was scared, I never would've done that shit to you. I never would've talked shit about you in front of my friends or mocked you in public or at games. " I'm so torn. I don't know how I feel.
Ellie nods, closing her eyes. " Fuck, I'm sorry. "
" I don't hate you Ellie. "
" You don't? " Ellie's voice is surprised.
I shake my head. " No. I just don't know if I can trust you. You hurt me so much. "
Ellie thinks for a moment. " Maybe there's a way I can make it up to you. "
I cock my head to the side, slightly skeptical. " How? "
" How long are you in Jackson? " Ellie leans against a shelf.
" About a week, why? " I'm supposed to be hanging out with Dina and Jesse all week.
" Perfect. Give me five days. I promise, I'll fix what I fucked up. If I can't, you never have to talk to me or see me again. I swear to god I will never talk to you again if you want. Just give me a week. " Ellie's gaze is unmoving, much more confident then moments ago.
Should I trust her? What if she does something? Well she did just bare her fucking soul to me.
With a sigh I reply. " Fine. I'll give you a week. "
Tag list: Idk if I missed anyone. Sorry if I did. Lmk if I did or if u want to be tagged in the next part.
@octavias-next-meat-bite @ximtiredx
#fanfic#fanfiction#ellie the last of us#ellie williams x you#ellie williams x reader#ellie x you#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams#ellie tlou#ellie williams x female reader
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