#if we made it this far in the queue and I’m STILL gone
Text
New Elite Chapter 6
The day of the Hunte’s ball, you were nearly beside yourself with worry, although you were doing your best to conceal that fact. This was the ultimate test. Could your secret courtship survive a huge, New York style event? Or would you be found out, far sooner than you were ready for?
At least you looked decent this time around. You were actually allowed to wear a color now, so you’d chosen a dress of light blue. The corset your mother had once again insisted on was nearly constricting you, but you were a little more used to it, and you could breathe easier than you could at your debutante. It was a small victory, but you would take it.
Since the Hunte’s lived on the other side of the upper-class neighborhood from you, your mother had actually sprung for a vehicle rather than fighting your way through the light flurries of snow that were beginning to fall. You were hoping you were close. The constant motion was aggravating to your stomach.
Miraculously, it seems your prayers are heard, for mere minutes later, the automobile comes to a stop and the driver exits to help you and your mother out. For better or worse, it was time.
From there, it's a short walk to the foyer of the Hunte’s grand estate. There's a small line of people preparing to enter, and you could see the whole Hunte family waiting and greeting their guests at the entrance. You follow your mother into the queue, as you attempt to be discreet while looking for Mr. Onceler. You were sure he’d be there. Society always had to invite other members of society, no matter if they were new money, or even if you disliked someone. Manners and etiquette ruled supreme in this world, and most followed the rules strictly and exactly.
As you reach the front of the line, you can’t help but notice that Thomas Hunte’s eyes seem to follow you. He smiles warmly as he and the rest of his family greets you, causing your mother to get an awful smug look on her face. You tried faking cordiality as much as possible, but you couldn’t stop the pit that's quickly forming in your gut. You had a strong feeling that this was going to cause a problem.
But thankfully, the problem could be postponed, at least for a little while. You had made it inside, while he was still stuck at the front. You resume your careful scan of the room, eyes searching for Mr. Onceler, but before you get far, you hear a voice call out “Darling!” from behind you.
You turn on your heel and spot Alice Eaton, who, after Nellie, you’d probably consider your closest friend. Your parents and her parents had been close as well, so you’d spent a decent amount of your childhood with Alice. However, you hadn’t seen her in over a year since she’d gone to England with her family so her father could collect an inheritance from a relative who’d passed away.
“Oh, Alice, it’s lovely to see you!” you smile, genuinely happy to see her again. “You should’ve written to me, I hadn’t known you were back yet.”
“Oh, where’s the fun in that?” Alice laughs. “I would have said something, but we only arrived back in the states a week ago, and when Mother told me about this invitation, I thought it would be a fantastic idea to surprise you here.”
You beam at her. “Well, your mission has succeeded. I’m thrilled you made it back in time.”
Alice smiles back at you before beckoning you over to the side a bit. You knew exactly what was coming next. Like many New York women and girls, Alice simply loved to gossip.
“Do you see that man in the corner? The tall one with the dark hair?” she giggles as soon as you’re close enough. You have a very shrewd suspicion as to who that could be, and sure enough, when you glance in the direction she points out, you finally find Mr. Onceler, standing in the middle of a group of men, smoking a cigar.
He’s also blatantly staring right at you.
You quickly turn away and back to Alice, though you can still feel his gaze burning into your back. “Yes, that’s Mr. Onceler. I met him about a month ago at my debutante,” you say, doing your best to keep your voice even.
“Then you’ll know exactly how rich he is,” Alice trills. “Father’s been absolutely pressuring me to start seriously thinking about getting married now that I’m out, and I think I’ve found my preference. I mean, look at him. Wealthy and handsome? I don’t think it can get much better than that!” She takes out her fan and gives herself a bit of a breeze, seemingly unaware of the surprising agony her words just put you through.
“You’re not worried about your father rejecting him? He is new money after all,” you say, probably too quickly to sound natural, but Alice doesn’t pick up on it. She’s too busy waving away your words before you’re even done speaking.
“That won’t matter to my family,” she insists. “At least, they’ve never brought it up before. I know your mother has lectured you on the ‘dangers’ of new money, but it’s an archaic way of thinking. We’re both eventually going to be rich in our own rights with no brothers to steal our inheritance, so it doesn’t matter if husband’s are bad with money. We’ll be protected.”
You feel an unfamiliar hot streak run through your body at her words, and it takes you a moment to realize the feeling is jealousy. It doesn’t make any sense as to why you would feel that way, however. You knew Alice’s family was absolutely not experiencing financial worry, and she didn’t know that you were. It had never bothered you before. Why would you suddenly care now?
Then she glances towards Mr. Onceler again, and that hot streak flashes through you once more, making you start from shock.
Oh. Oh no. That can’t be right. You couldn’t possibly be getting jealous over her obvious interest in Mr. Onceler. That was absurd. Besides, there was nothing to fret over. Alice, though indeed a good friend, could be a bit flighty, and she was also perfectly mannered around men. She didn’t seem like she would be his type.
And yet, your reassurances to yourself still couldn’t stop the twinge of jealousy. Alice was regarded as a beauty, one of New York’s brightest jewels. You weren’t plain-looking, but you knew Alice’s beauty far exceeded your own, and her ever-present smile fit her playful personality. By contrast, you were a bit quieter, preferring to sit on the side and observe every once in a while. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that he would take notice and at least consider her…
God, what was the matter with you? Poor Alice had done nothing to earn your ire; she had no idea the two of you were courting. And you certainly didn’t care if he thought someone was fairer than you so long as he didn’t break the courtship. You weren’t trying to gain his utmost affection. So long as your arrangement went through, he was at perfect liberty to fancy whomever he pleased.
You must just be having residual doubts that he would actually go through with the courtship if another girl caught his eye… yes, that was the only explanation. Your sole concern was for the security he promised you, nothing more.
At least, that’s what you were telling yourself. And you would continue to do so until you were fully convinced of it. Because it had to be the truth. There was no other possible reason.
Meanwhile, during your turmoil, Alice was still chatting away, as if she noticed nothing. “I’ve seen him looking this way several times. I hope that means he likes what he’s seeing,” she sighs. “I very much hope he asks me to dance first.” She hums happily at this thought, while you’re made more and more uncomfortable. “Although, speaking of men, I’ve also noticed a certain young Mr. Hunte glancing in this direction a few times as well,” she grins devilishly. “He’d be one to meet your mother’s one requirement. The Hunte’s are one of the most established families in New York, and rich as far back as anyone can remember. He’d be such a lovely match for you.” She sighs dreamily again, seemingly unbothered by your lack of response.
Still, it was probably time you offered one anyway. “Alice, your ability to dream is remarkable,” you say with a soft laugh so that she would know you were jesting. Mostly.
Alice flashes another grin at you. “Well, as Mother’s always reminding me, we’re only young and beautiful once. We have to enjoy it and all the perks that come with it while we can.” She calls over one of the wait staff and grabs two glasses of champagne, one of which she hands to you. “To a night of thrilling romance as befits us!” she toasts.
You raise your glass with her, though you’re unable to match her smile. It seemed as though she, your mother, and probably several of the more observant members of society, had already decided you were a perfect match for Thomas Hunte. Perhaps a month ago you would have thought the same, but no longer. You’d never done anything remotely scandalous in your life, and yet here you were, carrying a secret that could become the source of gossip for months.
And the more people who seem determined to box you in, the more likely it was that this secret would be revealed. If Thomas Hunte approached your mother, you would have no choice but to tell her you were already in a committed courtship, and that you had done so without her consent.
It was too much to bear. Your vision starts to tunnel, the edges going black… your head feels fuzzy…
The next thing you’re aware of, you’re looking up into the bright lights of the ceiling, countless featureless faces hovering over you. You blink a few times before it registers that you must have lost consciousness. But instead of lying on the hard floor, there’s a pair of arms encircling you.
And sure enough, when your vision slowly starts to come back into focus, the face that’s by far the closest to you, and looking more concerned than all the rest combined, is Mr. Onceler.
“Are you alright?” he asks, worry coating every word. Something about his tone made you feel as though you were the only two people in the room, even with just that simple sentence.
God almighty, what was he doing to you? The more you were around him, the more you seemed to lose your mind.
You stare up at him blankly for a moment, trying to control your emotions, before you realize he’s probably waiting for an answer. “Um, I’m fine. It’s just hot in here,” you mumble. “I think I just need some air.”
“Of course,” he says as he gingerly helps you to your feet. Several other people surge forward to help, Alice and Thomas Hunte among them, but he brushes them off without a second glance. Keeping one hand firmly holding yours, the other hovering near the small of your back, he leads you out to a blessedly deserted balcony, though he’s careful to at least keep the door open so you’re in view of the rest of the party.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks again the second you’re alone.
“I’m fine,” you reiterate, a bit stubbornly, but you weren’t lying. The cool night air is revitalizing, and all you really feel is embarrassment that you fainted in the first place. “There is one thing I don’t understand,” you say, mostly to stop him fretting over you. “How did you reach me so fast? The last I saw you, you were on the other side of the room. I doubt I was unconscious for more than a couple seconds, and lack of pain tells me you must have caught me before I hit the ground.”
“I noticed you growing pale,” he murmurs. “Therefore, I hastened over as quickly as I could. I’ve noticed that high-class women are particularly prone to swooning. Thankfully, I reached you in time to catch you.”
The swooning comment makes you glare at him. “It’s only because of the corsets,” you huff indignantly. “They very much constrict our ability to breathe. I assure you, this is not a common occurrence for me.” He still looks a bit amused at your assertion, so you turn away from him. He really did delight in vexing you, but you were in no mood for it at present.
It’s quiet for a few moments before he speaks up again. “I fear I might have given our situation away,” he says haltingly. “Your friend was giving me odd looks when I escorted you out of there. Is she likely to figure us out?”
“Possibly,” you sigh. Alice was sharp as a nail when it came to how people interacted with each other. She was a whiz at spying who was having affairs amongst your peers. “Her look could have just been jealousy, though. She’s quite determined to have you for herself.” You glance in his direction to try and gauge his reaction to this revelation.
“Is she?” If anything, his amusement only grows. “Well, if that’s the case, I’m afraid she’s going to be disappointed. I have no intention of breaking off our arrangement to pursue her.” You have to work hard to conceal the delight his words give you, which bothered you a bit. It was far too extreme of a reaction for a courtship of convenience.
“She’ll be most upset,” you say, hoping to sound blasé. “I don’t know if I can continue with this, knowing I’ll be hurting a dear friend of mine.”
“You have the power to end this, if you want,” he says, though he’s smirking as he does so. He knows you’re bluffing, and he’s also fully aware that you have no desire to end this either. You’d see this through to the end, to secure safety for yourself and your mother. And hopefully, she would soon see that your choice would indeed save you.
But seeing this through meant… oh, God, you just realized something. This man next to you was going to be your husband. You knew from the moment you said yes to having him court you where it was leading, but this was the first time you’d actually fully understood what that was. This was not just someone you were in a courtship with. Despite not being engaged just yet, there was no doubt in your mind that Mr. Onceler would indeed be your future husband.
Something about your face must have changed, because he quirks an eyebrow and takes a step closer to you. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice lower than usual. “You don’t feel lightheaded again, do you? Do you need to sit down?”
“No… no, I feel fine.” Had his eyes always been so blue? They were deeper than the Long Island Sound. “I'm perfect actually,” you hear yourself whisper.
The change in the atmosphere is palpable. Something had happened between the two of you, though you weren't quite sure what it was just yet. But you're certain it's there, for he seems to feel it too; his eyes darken and he takes a tentative step closer to you.
“There you are!” The loud voice of Mrs. Ryan rings through the night, making you snap your head over to her, and utterly shattering whatever moment had been building between the two of you. “You better get out there if you want this to remain a secret; your absences have been noticed,” she says while gesturing for you both to follow her back in.
Mr. Onceler reaches her before you do, and she uses the opportunity to grab him by his collar and drag him down to her level. “You better propose to that girl quickly after the mess I just had to clean up for you,” she hisses. You think that was supposed to be meant for his ears alone, but you hear every word.
You can't figure out his reaction, however. He keeps his face carefully away from you and declines to give a verbal response as he stands to his full height, straightens out his jacket, and heads back into the room. Mrs. Ryan shakes her head after him.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with that boy,” she sighs before turning to you. “Alright, honey, I think we need to have a quick conversation if you intend to keep this from your mother until you get a ring on your finger.” She beckons you closer with a stern look, though beneath it she still gives off a motherly aura. You sigh, but figure it’s better to keep her happy. She was an ally, and one that you did not want to lose.
You walk over and the two of you reenter the party together. “I know you didn’t faint on purpose, but you need to be careful,” she stresses in a surprisingly quiet voice; you can only just make her out. “There was no way to stop him from catching you, that’s not in his nature. But you could’ve just thanked him and gone about your night, and it would’ve been fine. But when you go off on your own after such a spectacle, well, everyone’s bound to notice that. It took everything I had to convince your mother that nothing was going on, and that he only wanted to make sure you wouldn’t pass out again. You can’t afford any more public spectacles until you’re declared for each other. Dot’s not a stupid woman, and he has not done a good job of hiding his preference for you. She knows that he’s interested, and that terrifies her. You need to get engaged quickly, or she will catch on, and it will cause a state-wide scandal,” she warns with massive gravity.
Her words cause you to wilt a bit. “I know she doesn’t approve,” you say carefully. You can’t be as free with your words with her as you are with Mr. Onceler. “But I am a woman grown, and I must have the liberty to make my own choices. He has afforded me that opportunity. I shall not go back on my choice now.”
Mrs. Ryan gives you a look, and for a moment you fear she’s going to remark on your bluff. His giving you the power of choice was only one reason you had agreed to his courtship, and not even the primary reason. But Mrs. Ryan couldn’t know about the financial aspect… could she? Had he told her?
But the look passes, and she says nothing. You can breathe freely once again. Instead she just says, “I’ll help you in what ways I can, but I can only do so much. I told him, and I’ll tell you again: the quicker you get engaged, the better.” She tips her chin in a direction behind you. “Your mother’s coming. Be careful,” she insists before she waves her hand in acknowledgment of your mother. “She’s fine, Dot. I’ve got her here, and she’s right as rain.”
You turn to face your mother, who’s more frazzled than you’ve ever seen her in public before. “Yes… thank you,” she mutters to Mrs. Ryan before turning her full attention to you. She takes your arm and pulls you to the side. “What were you thinking? Causing a scene like that! And then going off with him,” she hisses in your ear.
“It’s not like I planned it,” you huff. “I told you before we left, the corset was too tight.” Your mother at least has the decency to look abashed at that comment, as well as being offended that you would speak to her in such a manner. But she was going to have to get used to it. If you could learn to stand up for yourself now, you’d be better prepared for when you told her of your relationship (for want of a better word) with Mr. Onceler. And speaking of him…
“I did not know he was behind me when I fainted. How could I?” you say, hoping that by speaking the truth now, it would make your pending lie more believable. “I didn’t even realize who I was with until he led me to the balcony. Even then, he only stayed to ensure I did not faint again. It was all very cordial, I assure you.”
Your mother now seems quite taken aback, so you can only assume you’ve convinced her. However, true to form, she recovers to scold you again in record time. “Whatever might have happened, you must work doubly hard to ensure Thomas Hunte that he has your affections. We are on the precipice of what will save or ruin us. You cannot allow foolish mistakes to lead us to ruin, especially not with New Money.”
“I know perfectly well what I am to do, Mother,” you say coldly. “I fully intend to secure our fates, and I know what I must do for it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to rejoin the evening. I can’t give us a future from here.” With that, you turn your back on her, leaving her looking more affronted than ever. You even think you spotted the tiniest hint of shame.
Head held high, you walk back into the throng of people, and before a minute has passed, you see Alice, looking to be well on her way to accosting you next. “I’m fine, Alice, really, don’t make a fuss–”
“Why did you not tell me you and Mr. Onceler were courting?” she interrupts, acting like she didn’t hear a word you just said. You feel your eyes go involuntarily wide.
Oh no.
#fanfiction#onceler fanfiction#the onceler#onceler x reader#the lorax#also on ao3#onceler#period fanfic
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
The One That Got Away - Part ten
Negan Masterlist
Series Masterlist
Part 9
Warning: swearing, smut, cheating
Things between Negan and you were progressing really fast, you woke up each morning to text messages from him for the past week since the night the two of you had gone out for drinks. And each day he would ask when you would be available for that dinner date, eventually you caved in; revealing which day was your off day from work.
Queue today’s text.
“Hey there… we still on for tonight?”
“Hey, not sure if I’m up for going out tonight.”
“You ok?”
“Just had a shitty day at work and want a peaceful night in at home.”
“I understand… tell ya what; why don’t we chill at your house, and I make us dinner?”
Silently staring at Negan’s last text, you debated the suggestion for some time.
Was it really a good idea to have him over to your house?
Just the two of you alone, with no one around to keep you from doing something extremely stupid.
“Hey, earth to Y/N…”
“So, what ya say… you, me, a quiet dinner?”
Realizing that Negan wasn’t going to give up until getting the answer he wanted, you responded.
“OK”
“Awesome, see ya later then.”
Mentally shaking your head at the decision, you had just made, you end the conversation by sending your address.
You were nervously fretting over your appearance in the mirror as you awaited Negan’s arrival.
You must have changed your outfit about five times already.
Finally deciding on a casual yet decent looking house dress.
Relax idiot… it’s only a friendly dinner between two friends, nothing else.
So lost in the internal bantering between yourself, you didn’t notice the time, not until hearing the sound of your doorbell going off.
“Hey there…” you stared wide-eyed at a broad smiling Negan as he entered through door with a grocery bag in hand.
“Hey… hope ya like spaghetti? It’s my specialty, so I’m treating ya to that tonight.”
“Sounds great…” you smile in response.
“Let me show you to the kitchen.”
You silently sat sipping at your glass of wine while Negan busied himself around your kitchen preparing dinner.
“So, how was your day?” Negan asks, his back to you as he stirred the sauce.
“Busy...” you remark with a heavy sigh.
“Had to attend two domestic disturbances, and a public intoxication, the most stressful part of it all was the paperwork though.”
Negan cringes in sympathy, “no wonder you weren’t in the mood for going out.”
“Enough about me arresting people” you change the topic.
“How was your day?”
“Same as usual” Negan shrugs.
“Dealing with and swearing at shithead kids all day.”
“I can’t believe you’re still getting away with doing that…” you snicker.
“Parents are always complaining” he chuckles out.
“Hasn’t stopped me from doing it though.”
“How you still have a job, is beyond me” you chuckle along with him.
“That’s because I’m fuckin’ good at my job… that, and I’m handsome as fuck” he winks at you.
“There’s no denying that…” you softly mumble into your glass.
“So, you think I’m handsome…?” Negan licks his top lip smugly.
“I’ve always found you attractive” you admit, covering it up with a chuckle then.
“Heck, a lot of kids during our high school time thought the same thing…”
“True…” Negan nods.
“But what matters; is that you did.”
“Don’t be silly…” you blush, waving his remark off.
With a serious look on his face, Negan steps closer to you; reaching out a hand to gently touch your cheek.
“I always thought you were beautiful…”
“Please…” you roll your eyes in denial.
“I was far from that, and even further from it now.”
“You’re even sexier now…” Negan groans out, eyes having turned dark with lust.
“You’re delusional” you brush him off.
“No, seriously… I wouldn’t have taken the risk of fucking you back then if I didn’t think so.”
“C’mon… that only counts as half sex” you shrug his comment off.
“Half sex?!” Negan scoffs, dropping his hand disappointedly.
“What are you? A fuckin’ teenager?”
“Neither of us came” you point out to him.
“So, it’s only counted as half…”
“My dick was inside you for quite some time, which means I fucked you. Even though we were interrupted, I fucked you… and it felt incredible.”
You lift your arms up in defeat.
“Ok, you win…”
“We fucked… you fucked me.”
Pulling your chair away from the island, Negan steps in-between your legs, causing your heartrate to rise.
“Does that day still cross your mind…? Do you regret it?”
“Negan…” you murmur as his hand stroked your cheek yet again.
“I don’t...” Negan confesses, hand moving up to tangle in your hair.
“I still remember how incredibly tight you were around me, it’s never left my mind…”
Your eyes fluttered shut as Negan gently massaged your scalp. When you opened them again, his lips were mere inches from your own.
Negan silently stared into your eyes for a moment, seeing that you were into it as well; he slams his lips hard against your own.
Pulling you up to your feet, Negan wraps his arms tightly around your waist as the two of you devoured each other’s mouths.
Your arms wrap around the back of Negan’s neck as his hands lower down, pulling the skirt of your dress upward.
Completely lost in the moment, you gasp out in surprise when Negan suddenly lifts you onto the island.
Recovering quickly; you begin unbuttoning his shirt as the two of you continue kissing, your hands roaming all over each other’s bodies in a passionate frenzy.
The moment is suddenly interrupted though by the sound of the pasta water having boiled over.
“Shit!” Negan rushes to remove it from the stove.
You were seated on top of the island still as you attempted to even your breathing.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Negan scolds as you were just about to jump off it.
“I-” you begin to say but Negan interrupts with a shake of his head.
“I’m not done with you…” he growls, hastily stalking back toward you.
He then lifts you up from the island, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.
“Which way is your bedroom?”
Staring at him wide-eyed, you silently point toward it, and he carries you in the direction.
Placing you on the edge of the bed, Negan immediately begins undressing as you silently sat almost trance like admiring his every move.
You were snapped out your trance, when a boxer clad Negan roughly grabs hold of your hair; tipping down to capture your lips in a hard kiss.
You softly moaned out as Negan and your tongue battle for dominance, pulling away for air; Negan reaches down to pull your dress over your head.
“Jesus, you’re fuckin’ beautiful…” he groans out, groping at your breast as your head tilts back in pleasure.
Wanting to have some power control over him yourself, you reach out to stroke his cock through his boxers.
“You’re killing me here, Sweetheart…”
Negan lets out a grunt of pleasure, eyes fluttering shut as his head tilts to the back.
With a victorious smirk, you finally stop torturing him, slipping your hand into the waistband of his boxers, and gently pulling out his straining erection.
Negan watched through hooded lids as you lightly licked at the tip, looking up at him; you gently swirl your tongue around it, dipping the tip of it into the slit of his cock.
“Fuuuuck…” Negan hisses out, gripping tight hold your head as you opened your mouth to fully take him in.
Gurgling noises filled the room as you hollowed your cheeks as best you could while Negan fucked the shit out of your mouth.
After a few minutes, Negan pulls away from you with a loud groan.
“Don’t want to cum yet, not until I’ve had that pussy wrapped around my dick again…”
“Then take it…” you slur out, eyes fully lust blown.
With a deep growl, Negan pushes you back onto the bed, reaching for your panties, hastily removing them.
“You’re fuckin’ soaked…” Negan groans out in approval as he goes to bury his face in-between your legs.
A loud cry escapes your lips when his mouth latches onto your centre, your fingers instinctively burying in his hair.
“Fuck, Negan…” you tug at his hair, pulling him up your body.
“I can’t wait anymore…”
“What’s wrong, Sweetheart…?” Negan whispers against your lips, fingers circling over your clit.
“I-need-you…” you slur, eyes rolling into the back of your head in pleasure.
Grabbing hold of his erection, Negan strokes it between your soaking folds.
“What is it you need from me, Baby…?”
“Please-fuck-me…” you whimper out desperately.
Placing the tip of his cock against your entrance, Negan smirks down at you.
“Anytime baby…”
With one powerful snap of his hips, Negan buries himself till the hilt inside you; causing you both to groan out as you spasm around him.
“Fuck...” Negan buries his face into the side of your neck with a groan.
“You still feel so fuckin’ tight…”
Your only response was a soft whimper; your mind void of any and all thought, except for the pleasurable stinging sensation of him stretching your walls.
Negan’s hips slowly begin to rock into you, causing your back to arch off from the bed with each deep thrust of his cock into you.
Once you’ve adjusted, Negan’s hips begin picking up pace. The sounds of skin loudly slapping against each other, along with your whimpers and Negan’s grunts echo throughout the room as you tightly clung to him for dear life.
“Negan…” you cry out, feeling your orgasm fast approaching.
“I know baby, I’m almost there too…” Negan moans out, anchoring his arms under your shoulders for better grip.
After a few more hard thrusts from Negan, you couldn’t hold it anymore.
“I’m cumming…” you cried out, walls clenching tightly around him, triggering him to cum as well.
“Fuuuuck…” Negan groaned out in your neck as he emptied himself deep inside you.
After finally having caught your breaths, Negan rolls off you with a satisfied grunt; pulling you against his side and places a kiss into your hair.
“And that my dear, is a job completed…” he utters out breathlessly.
You couldn’t stop the snicker that slipped your lips at his reference to the ‘half sex’ comment you had made earlier.
It wasn’t long after that, when your eyes began fluttering close as satisfied exhaustion finally took over your body.
Part 11
Tags: @neganswoman @especially @thecupcakevigilante @nt-multi-fandom @tonysterco @stoneyggirl2
#twd negan#twdlovestory#twdfanfic#coach-negan#negan smith#negan x reader#negan x y/n#The Walking Dead#negan#Jeffrey Dean Morgan#JDM
54 notes
·
View notes
Note
So…for the WIP game, although I’m late, if I may I’d really like to hear more about Radio Waves?
The title conjures up a few images and thoughts so I’d really intrigued by what the plan is for that fic?
🫶🏻 thank you, love!
- @joejoequinnquinn xox
Oh my, yes, that’s a delightfully ambiguous title that could head in a million different directions 😆
Thank you for asking, and I really don’t mind how long it takes to ask if people are still interested 🥰🫶
This is an idea I had a while ago that involves Eddie falling in love with a guest/expert/talking head who appears on local/college radio, purely from hearing her voice. It’s not a scenario I have any direct experience of, so I’ll be winging large parts of it 😆 It’ll also be one of the first times I try to include Eddie’s POV as well, plus some misunderstandings, and if I can think of any, possibly some very mild angst, as I’ve been avoiding all of those in my writing so far for fear of messing them up 🙈
I hadn’t looked at it for some time until you asked about it, and didn’t realise I had the first part almost completely done! I may have to bring it up the WIP queue… 🤔
Here’s a little bit from the first part:
Gareth turns the radio up as the show starts.
Eddie’s made himself comfortable, stretched out on the floor against a pile of pillows, rolling another joint on his chest, fully expecting to just zone out and let Gareth do all the listening as the stiffs and academics start talking, but as everyone gets introduced his ears prick up suddenly as one guest speaks.
“Next up, we have one of our regulars, our resident expert on women’s issues, [character pseudonym].”
“Thanks for having me again, it’s a pleasure to be back.”
Oh, she has a nice voice…
Eddie swallows thickly. She’s only said a few words, and they’ve gone straight to his crotch. Her voice sounds like liquid velvet, and he wants it poured all over him…
What is happening??
I’ll be sure to let you know if I ever get it finished 🤭🫣
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
“Reason” Dreamcatcher English Lyrics
Fun fact: today is my birthday, and this will also be the last post I make for a while because I’ve started back up with school. (I might put some other English lyrics I have already written for other songs in the queue though.) I actually wrote this while thinking of my friends, who are absolutely amazing. I couldn’t ask for a better friend group. If any of my friends read this: I love you guys and this is for you. <3
—♪—
I have to go on
REASON
Gone are those days
When I tried way too hard just to be “liked”
Now you are here, Guiding me
Giving me strength that I came to need
Past memories go float astray
Still remember them today
As I go forward, won’t let my dreams ever slip away
No one dared to be there for me
However it doesn’t matter now I know that jeering and teasing
I went though has only made me stronger
Thoughts that I was dumb or terrible
No longer get me down I
Know from now on I’ll only go up
As clouds rolling in get in my way
Oh, I won’t be afraid
Far away, I’ll drive ‘em far away
And I’ll brush the dirt off of my
Wings I’ll go and fly
‘Cause you are the REASON
Whoa-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh-whoa-oh
Time passes by too fast
Comes and goes before I can know it
However, I trust
No matter what I’ll just do my best
Yeah one minute like a year
Make hundred to a million
Now I see
In my hand I’m holding the key
We don’t fight
At the end of the tunnel I see a light
That is love or friendship
As clouds rolling in get in my way
Oh, I won’t be afraid
Far away, I’ll drive ‘em far away
And I’ll brush the dirt off of my
Wings I’ll go and fly
‘Cause you are the REASON
Whoa-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh-whoa-oh
(Whoa-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh-whoa-oh)
Your voice calling me
Means everything to me
I know that I’m never alone, no
Woah-oh!
We are always with InSomnia
[Alternative Lyrics: Know I’ll always stand right by your side]
We can spend more time
Together; Never be alone
And we’ll brush the dust right off of our
Wings; We’ll always fly
‘Cause you are the REASON
Whoa-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh-oh
Whoa-oh-oh-whoa-oh
No one dared to be there for me
However it doesn’t matter now I know that jeering and teasing
I went though has only made me stronger
Thoughts that I was dumb or terrible
No longer get me down I
Know from now on I’ll only go up
Masterlist
#dreamcatcher#reason dreamcatcher#rwbyofmyheart english lyrics#english lyrics#kpop english lyrics#i love my friends#yk who you are#it’s my birthday#CAUSE YOU ARE THE REASONNNNNNNN#jiu#sua#siyeon#handong#yoohyeon#dami#gahyeon#dreamcatcher English lyrics#when they ask you how you are and you have to say fine but you’re really overwhelmed by how much you absolutely love your friends <3
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
This is a Fortnite Chapter 5 rant. Please ignore
But they’ve ruined this fucking game. When they brought og back for a bit I thought it meant epics developers were listening to its playerbase finally. I had fun. Enough fun that I put money into the game for the next battle pass, thinking the next season would continue to bring in changes and new features that the players were asking for. Rather, I’m now trapped playing a game that makes me miserable because I can’t afford to put any amount of money into a game and then just not play it.
They essentially created an entirely new game and using Fortnite’s existing player base to “prove” to themselves the changes are successful. They added actual ai hordes, minibosses, in battle currency, a crafting system, and fishing* (for some reason). They entirely overhauled their guns, movement mechanics, ranking system**, and entire map. Outside of character customization and the battle bus, the basics of Fortnite aren’t there anymore. It’s an insult to the players to continue calling this the same game, especially since some retcons have already been announced.
The playerbase is also in rapid decline, but it’s not immediately noticeable without playing the game yourself. Technically the number of players has not changed, but if you play the game you can notice how many “players” are actually bots trying to emulate actual players. The skill gap between these bots and people is also insane, making it incredibly obvious that the bot count is growing every day despite the claim that the number of people hasn’t gone down a noticeable percentage.
And every day that skill gap grows as casual players continue to leave the game for several reasons…
*As cool as the fishing mechanic is in theory, it’s unusable as other players kill you on sight faster that you can switch from the fishing rod to a gun. Most fishing points are at the bottom of valleys or on a lake at the bottom of essentially a bowl, so you aren’t likely to even notice a player aiming at you until you’re dead and staring at your “queue for next match” screen. You also have to drop a weapon to open a slot for the pole, so unless you’re willing to risk being down a weapon in one of the most vulnerable areas in game, it’s an unusable feature.
**The ranking system is now based on wins and how far you make it in each sessions rankings. Top 10 to top 5 is the ultimate goal, outside of being crowned victor each match. Since the amount of kills you get or damage done to other players now has little effect on how to rank up, people are adopting a much more frustrating and try hard camping approach to each game. Those who can’t compete with camping sweats in ranked are now taking the same playstyle into non ranked lobbies and eliminating anyone who is trying to play casually, ruining the experience almost entirely when combined with every other change they made to preexisting mechanic. So, the casual player base continues to lose numbers as we wait for epic to ultimately go back on their changes or bring the og back again (which they have announced will happen next year, but still no word if they’re gonna make it a permanent game mode or not)
Honestly, I could keep going about how much I despise this new season. It’s awful and almost entirely irredeemable in my eyes. To make matters worse, so many players who haven’t already openly dropped it refuse to acknowledge it’s many flaws outside of the new movement, which isn’t actually any slower it just looks slower because they smoothed out the animations. However, they’ll come up with excuses not to play when offered. It’s just all so frustrating.
#somethingabouttrees rant#I know part of my hate is that so much changed so quickly#and autism makes it so hard to accept these#but I was never upset to anywhere near this degree when they would change#add or take stuff away in og#I just want to have fun#there’s so much more I can complain about too#Fortnite#gaming
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
9 and 20 for the prompts :)
9. "i cannot bare to be apart from you anymore."
20. "it hurts me, just how much i ache for you."
hope you don’t mind the little spin on this 😂 you can blame the snippets of @dickley-buddie and @eddiediazisascorpio ‘s fic for this one.
“i can’t keep going like this,” eddie sighs into the tense silence between them in the kitchen. buck is elbow deep in sudsy water after another quiet family dinner.
“the kids are starting to notice aren’t they.” buck says choked up, while staring out into the soft light of the sunset.
eddie just nods, thinking that buck can see him or still instinctually know every move he makes. but that had gone away some time ago.
“i miss when you would know what i would say in the next breath without me saying it. i miss lively family dinners and hugs. i miss hugs. from you. and i miss you in our bed every night so much it fucking hurts buck. it hurts me, how much i ache for you. because no one in my life has ever held me the way you did. and i don’t even remember what this fight is about anymore. i never wanted to feel so far away from my partner in our home ever again. and i don’t even know how this happened to us, but i still love you. and i want this marriage to work. i’ll go to counseling, i’ll fight for us- but i need you to fight too.”
“i don’t know how we got here either eddie. and we should probably do counseling. and i do still love you, so much. there is nothing stopping that force of nature. ever. did you think i ever stopped?” it’s the most hurt eddie has ever heard buck sound, and he nods the tiniest bit, biting his lip.
“every night we’ve slept apart i- i have wanted to come and get you from that stupid couch.” there are tears in his eyes in earnest now and a couple roll down his cheeks.
“eddie, i- i have- i wanted you to come get me every night. i stared at the ceiling until i fell asleep hoping that you would come, because god, i cannot bare to be apart from you anymore.” at some point the gloves came off and he had turned his body to face him, and eddie can see how his hands are twitching. it reminds him of the night in the kitchen of his old house a few years ago. and his face softens and the tension melts away. buck takes that as his queue and is wrapping him in the tightest hug. eddie eventually gets his arms around his husband. and they stay like that for a few minutes.
eddie leans back holding bucks face in his hands, “i never stopped either and it would take the universe collapsing for me to stop. and i’m sorry. i’m sorry if i made you feel like i did. i’m sorry.”
buck nods, “im sorry too.”
he rests the foreheads together and closes his eyes. and there’s a spark as they breathe, in and out, each breath more electrifying until eddie can’t fucking take it anymore and he kisses his husband for the first time in weeks. and it’s full of love and hard work. full of everything they built together and thought they lost.
confession prompts
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
TEN Q’S:
1. when are you usually online? I’m most active weekday evenings, EST! I have a full-time (and then some) 9-5 job so when I’m here in the afternoons, I’m either working from home or just liking/sending on mobile. I’m much more of a night owl than an early bird though, but I try not to do any real thread writing after 2 AM or so. I never write anything good after 2 AM.
2. what verses are you involved in outside of this page? Most of my AUs take place on this page, but I’ve gone back and forth on restarting my Fujiko Mine blog again. I think Fujiko, like most of the other muses I’ve written, I tend to want to write in specific scenarios/against specific character types only. Unlike with Sonia, where it’s far easier and more interesting for me to adapt her to different verses and situations.
3. what is your biggest RP pet peeve? Formatting pet peeves aside (super small text and putting multiple spaces between words), my biggest RP pet peeve is this:
Asking for meme starters/starter calls, never replying to said starters, and asking for more starters. While never communicating feedback or constructive criticism about what would make a thread or interaction more appealing and/or engaging, or answering memes/asks I send.
This is one of the main reasons I’ll simply drop a writing partner. I never mind redoing introductions or working together with a mun to plot an interaction we both want to write! But I do mind being constantly asked for starters and having them never be turned into threads.
On the other hand, one of my lesser pet peeves are very quick replies, and this is entirely a ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ issue. Mainly, I like to keep three habits when roleplaying: 1. replying to all of my active threads in a consistent and timely fashion, 2. replying to all current threads before taking on new starters/memes and 3. taking time away from the dash to read/watch/play different things in order to take a breather, think about where I want interactions to go, and get ideas. That’s harder for me to do when muns reply quickly (I usually say 48 hours or less, but I’ll say 24 hours or less here. I’m still a slow but steady writer!), and that’s entirely on me and my habits.
My way of addressing it is, in this situation, I won’t queue my replies in the order I receive threads: I try to space out replies for muns who reply very fast with muns who reply a bit more slowly, so I’m not overwhelmed with a bunch of replies at once. I try not to be the mun who takes on too many asks and threads and then has to drop them.
4. are you drawn to specific types of muses? When I was a younger writer in RP, it was usually badass women with weapons and femme fatales (aka. I’ve had Fujiko as a muse for a long time! Just not on tumblr). In the past 5-8 years? Definitely young ladies with Rich People Problems: Sybil Crawley/Branson, Veronica Lodge, and now Sonia Nevermind. If I could’ve ever figured out how to play a Persona game, I probably would’ve picked up Haru Okumura by now. Mostly though, I love writing Rich People Problems: royals, high society, just plain wealthy, etc.
5. are there recurring themes in your writing that people might not notice? Tbh I don’t really think any of my themes are that hidden, per se? Though one I do hope to emphasize in my long-term interactions, especially in Sonia’s older verses, is how much less black-and-white she sees her parents. As a teenager, she really does believe her father can do no wrong and all of the ill will in their unhappy marriage is due to her mother and her attitude and many affairs. The older she becomes, the more she’s able to recognize her mother and father in shades of gray. Her father has made plenty of mistakes and, the more she can come to understand what her mother has experienced, the more she can come to understand her behavior, especially towards her.
6. what are your favorite RP trends? I love the silly “character has appeared what to do?” meme so much. I know charts and quizzes are fun and all, but I get burned out on those. But this meme? This meme will always lead to quick and fun interactions, particularly with muses and muns I’m already threading with.
And I love info pages and carrds on tumblr, preferably linked to a pinned post. I’m on mobile a lot these days, especially at work, and if a blog follows me without their info in a pinned post I likely can’t follow back until I get on my computer and look at their blog there. This is my plea to please make your rules/muses/mun pages mobile-accessible! I’m not a fan of google docs for info, though: only interest checkers. Because they are a challenge to read on mobile.
7. what is your process for starting a new story with someone?
Send a meme send a meme send a meme send a-
Yeah, you get the drill. :) Listen, I like memes for several reasons: 1. I can often get an idea of the tone of the thread the other mun is looking to write based on the prompt. 2. a muse and/or verse will be attached to it if the blog is a multi. I rarely do starter calls because, in the past, my starters often get ignored and I’m not a fan of greeter posts.
Beyond memes, I also like plotting OOC here or on discord for threads. That ensures that both muns are interested and engaged in the plot, and that any godmodding/toe-stepping questions can be addressed before interactions begin.
I’m not the best with unprompted IC asks though, especially those turned into threads. I’m notorious for misunderstanding asks, particularly if they’re related to pop culture I’m unfamiliar with (Sonia and I have a few things in common...), and it can be awkward for everyone involved.
8. how do you feel about duplicates? I don’t mind other takes on my muse at all. She’s a canon muse from a popular franchise and it’s to be expected, but I also know that not everyone will like the way I write Sonia. She’s canon-divergent with a lot of headcanons and history regarding her family, her culture, and her country. That, and my preferred writing style and dynamics, may very well not appeal to everyone. And that’s just fine! Every interpretation of her is valid and if a mun doesn’t like one mun’s style of writing and interpreting her, they can write with another.
What I do mind are twin verses and long-lost relatives, for one of the points listed above: I have a lot of headcanons and lore about Sonia, plenty that I haven’t even shared in headcanon posts or threads yet, and I both keep to those headcanons and evolve them when I wish to. Twin and relative verses don’t really account for that, and the closest thing I’ve got to a twin verse is Sonia’s Vampire!AU anyway, where I’d write both the past and present Sonia.
I also mind stealing headcanons. Don’t do it. It’s bad form. I try not to follow solo Sonia blogs just so there’s little possibility of this happening but if she’s on your multi, I don’t mind.
9. how long have you been involved in roleplaying? I started in either 1999 or 2000. I’m aware that I’ve been roleplaying longer than some muns on this site have been alive, and I don’t intend on stopping anytime soon :)
10. is there a muse or verse you wish you could write in, but haven’t?
.....Bridgerton AU!
Now that I’ve gotten that out of my system (muses in a Bridgerton world, Bridgerton muses themselves, YES GOOD. If you’ve been here for awhile, this is probably old news but I can’t not mention it!), I’d like to explore more historical AUs, particularly anything mid-18th Century onward. My reasoning for this is entirely due to the available history/tech/arts from then on. I’m not great with high fantasy components, but more urban fantasy concepts are mostly fine with me. Just don’t expect Sonia to have magic powers.
In a very, very specific sort of plot, I’d be interested in a time-travel story, too.
Otherwise, I like exploring Danganronpa muses post-high school: college aged, high school reunions, etc. The reunion plot, especially in a Non-Despair context, can be particularly fun!
And finally: give me your otome muses for threads. @dangaer and @hitobanju, I’m looking at you. If and when you are wanting to thread some long-term interactions...gimme. DiaLovers, Piofiore, and Cupid Parasite scream the loudest for crossovers right now but I’m getting pretty fluent in otome.
TAGGED BY: I stole it!
TAGGING: @cantillat, @electricea, @causalitylinked, @dcviated, @litoredeem, @inxtricabilis (we haven’t chatted much yet but I hope it’s ok to tag you in things like this!), @psychcdelica, @orderbourne, and you! Steal it!
#more-than-a-princess memes#more-than-a-princess musings#(I've got some new followers on here and haven't done a RP Q&A in awhile)#(So here's one!)
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
once you left// e.j + reader + j.k, act 1.1
masterlist + request info
song of the chapter: yours, conan gray
word count: 1039
warnings/tags: angst, y/n is kind of crazy, arson, highschool au, cursing, rivals to lovers, best friends to lovers, lemme know if i missed any!
author’s stage: im so excited! this was one of my old fics that i got pretty far into just lost motivation. but im super happy to get back into it! my requests are open btw :)
The night I burned down my cousin's barn, there was no moon at all. The stars looked as if they had burnt out. The smoke suffocated my lungs, my hair waving in the wind. The fire was bright and beautiful. It wasn't right that I had done this.
I stayed in the shadows of the woods watching the firefighters attempt to clean up the fire. But it was no use, it was gone. I tried to suppress my laughter, how does it feel? After you took everyone from me. All the screaming and crying, how does it feel?
I would hate to admit that this all started because of a guy. A guy who was obviously mine. But some people like to touch what's not theirs. I remember the day before this all started....
My pink low heels clicked on the tiles of my rusted school. As expected people turned to look at me. I'm not beautiful or anything, I'm quite average. But it's the way I dress and act. You don't see people like me in small towns. My friends were already stuck inside our homeroom class. I swung the door open and made eye contact with Jean. He winked at me. I could feel the butterflies, ugh already?
On queue, Eren started whispering a little too loud to his loser friends, "Look who finally showed up. It's the primadonna of the school." My eyes locked on him and I scowled. "Eren. It's the first day stop talking." I said. As I started walking to my desk; I could feel Eren's eyes on me. I grew up. He didn't obviously.
Homeroom went by quickly. Mainly cause I spent the whole time talking to Jean. We're best friends if you couldn't tell. Sometimes Eren would look back scowling at both of us. I winked back. When the bell finally rang, I grabbed my bag and turned my head to look at Marco and Historia. Historia smiled brightly at me, which means she and Ymir are still together. Marco was wearing his signature look, bright khakis, and a hawaiian shirt. It's not funny I don't know why he does it.
Soon, after going through grueling high school class we made it to lunch. We sit right in the shade, the senior spot. We sit in a circle. Marco, Jean, me, Historia, Ymir, (if she and Historia are dating that day) Connie, and Sasha. It's always been this way. I slip into my spot with my lunch box in hand. "Y/n.... can I have your macaron?" Jean asked as he put his head on my shoulder. I could feel the blush take shape on my face. "Fine. We can split it." I split the macaroon and handed it to Jean. Jean quickly looks around the table making sure no one looking at us. "Well.. Y/n I was wondering if you would like to-"
"Hey, Y/n how was the part-time job this summer? You didn't tell me about it!" My eyes flash to Marco. Who is sitting there completely dumbfounded by the fact Jean was talking to me. "Ah, it went well thanks, Marco. Someone on the other hand didn't even ask." I rolled my eyes and smirked at Jean. "Shut up. I was busy eating your beautiful macaron."
My AP biology teacher creaked open the door to the lab, and all the students waited for the teacher. Typical. "Today students because this is AP biology and I love making people's life suck. You will be taking an entrance exam. It's pretty quick, 30 questions. Let's see who will actually be passing my class." Dr. Ackerman scanned over the crowd and chuckled a little bit. He quickly made his way to his desk and grabbed that stack of papers. I felt like I was going to die.
After 45 minutes of taking a stupid test about stuff, I learned when I was at least a freshman. Around 10 minutes later, he started passing them back. I scanned over my test, 48%. I got a 48?! My wrinkled test is crumpled in my hands. I stride over to the trash can to throw my test in, until an arm snakes around my shoulders.
"Yo. Y/n. What did you get on the test?" I can feel him smirking, it's burning into my skin. It's testing my patience. "Wouldn't you like to know?" I sigh stuffing my test into my pocket as I unhook his arm from me and walk back to my seat.
"Why did you even walk to the trash can if you're not going to throw anything away?" Eren's eyes meet mine and he chuckles, "Come on Y/n. I know you better than that-" Eren is cut off by the entrance to the classroom slamming open as well as the bell ringing. Both of our heads turn to see who just made such an entrance. It's Jean. His brown eyes find my eyes immediately. His stare quickly turns to a warm smile.
"Move over Eren. I gotta talk to Y/n." Jean says as he walks over to my desk with his hands in his pockets. Eren obeys but it's almost like hesitating as he looks back over at me. Then he walks over to someone else's desk probably bragging about his grade. "Let me take you out to dinner. Just like the good ol’ days.”
"W-what???" I let out a cough. We've been to dinner so many times together. But I've been dying for Jean to ask me out, is this even a date? "Uhm. Sure, just pick me up." I finally let out. "Good. I'll let you know." He winks at me and backs away from my desk to the exit. I might die of happiness.
#y/n is crazy#best friends to lovers#sasha#eren#eren jeager angst#jean kirschtein#angst#rivals to lovers#crying#ymir#aot#highschool au#anime#historia#mikasa#levi#jean x reader#eren fluff#eren fanfiction#aot x reader
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
The 2023 writing Advent calendar: Day 8
8. Gingerbread
“Come on Granny! Why can’t we just eat the dough?” 8-year-old Stella whined and leaned on the counter. “I’m hungry!”
“I can make you a sandwich while we wait,” Monic offered as she raised the pot of gingerbread dough they had made in the morning. It was a special recipe that needed to be refrigerated before the cookies could be baked. “We have some spare salmon lying around.”
“Or… I’m that hungry…” Stella continued. She hated everything to do fish. “But can I at least taske the cookie dough?”
“Okay, one spoon,” Monica nodded, “Only one. Your mother she would have eaten the whole pot if left unsupervised, so I am not taking any chances.”
“I’m not like Mom,” Stella shook her head and started looking for a spoon.
“Sure you aren’t,” Monica smiled.
At that moment the door opened and two Ambar walked in… or well, one Ambar and tiny “Ambar” who was seven years of age.
“Granny Monica!!” Ivory ran to hug Monica.
“Hi there!” Monica hugged Ivory.
“Are they here yet?”
“No, not yet,” Monica responded. “Where is Esme?”
“Did I not tell you that she has a dental appointment? Simon took her.” Ambar sat down on the kitchen table, “Are we eary or is Nina late? That would be the first.”
“Hi! Are we late?” Right on queue, Nina walked through the door.
“No, were not late,” 8-year-old Aurora was looking at her watch, “We were supposed to be here at noon. It’s 11:59:30. 30 seconds early.”
“You’re being specific again,” 7-year-old Laura rolled her eyes as she came behind her. The girls ran toward their friends at once.
“It was okay if I just leave them here right?” Nina asked, “I have mountain I need to get to.”
“Of course it is.” Monica nodded.
“Good, because I have mountain to get to.” Nina nodded back, “Girls, be nice. Dad’s probably the one picking you up so keep your phones on.”
“When are we not nice?”
“Bye Mom!”��
“Mountain huh?” Ambar joined Nina on a hallway as she started, “Don’t tell me you have squeezed yourself a deadline before Christmas… Although, I am the one the talk. I came here to get cookies while I answer emails.”
“Mountain as in, Christmas shopping.” Nina clarified. “We got the stuff for the kids weeks ago, but I still have stuff left that I need to get myself, since Gastón took Oscar to that rockclimbing place. You cannot take Aurora shopping or even bring anything to the house while she can see, because then she’ll make her life’s mission to figure out what it is and to who.”
“The pain of having intelligent kids,” Ambar laughed.
“As long as she won’t go work for the police, we’ll be fine.” Nina smiled a bit nervously.
“You said rockclimbing?”
“Yes, Oscar has been clamering to go after he found the place online. And as the school is out, there was no reason why not.”
“You don’t sound like the biggest fan of the idea,” Ambar noted.
“I…” Nina sighed, “I feel like my mother when I just want everyone’s feet stay on the ground. He's ten, ethere nothing actually to be worried about...”
“Well, with what you’ve been through, it’s understandable.”
“It has been 12 years.” Nina ran her hand on her arm, “But it still sometimes gets to me, when someone wants to do something extreme. But I can’t stop Oscar doing something he really wants just because I am afraid, especially since it’s something he and Lucas like to do together. It’s great that they are getting closer, like the girls.”
“Jazmin always says how shopping cleanses the soul,” Ambar joked, “So, you’re going to be okay. And if you need to sue somebody, I’m right here.”
“I am trying not to think that far,” Nina laughed, “See you later.”
“Have fun gift hunting, although hubands are noutoriously hard to shop for.”
After Nina had gone, Ambar walked back into the kitchen, since she really should get to those emails. The girls were stendig in a organized row next to the kitchen counter, waiting for their orer from the maestro herself.
“Okay, girls first we need to roll out the dough so we can cut all the shapes,” Monica instructed while pulling the medal gingerbreadhouse cutters out. She had actually developed her own set as part of the kitchen utensil line for the catering business. “Ivory and Laura can do the roof, while Stella and Aurora the walls.”
“But what about the base?” Aurora asked while seeming like she was measuring the cutter with her fingers, “It needs to be biggest than they house, so the structure has a good basis.”
“Can we decorate the roof tiles with marshmallows?” Laura asked, “So it looks like real slating?”
Ambar smiled to herself. These were daughters of an engineer alright. She turned to her table as te email she had actually needed answering.
“We should put music notes on these?” Ivory piped up, “And add staves and pentagrams.”
Ivory had also come to her father, wondering about music and nothing else…well, music, skating and nothing else. Her choir’s Chrismas recital was coming up and Ambar was looking forward to it immensely.
“Monica, how long will they need to be in the oven?” Aurora looked though the small oven window.
“10 to 12 minutes,” Monica responded, “But we need to keep careful watch over them.”
“I love over watch!” Stella parked herself cross legged in front of the oven.
“Okayyyy,” Aurora seemed to look sceptical, but sat next to Stella on the floor, “How brown do they need to be?”
“I think we have some that you can decorate in the mean time,” Monica pulled and can out a shelf and opened it. The amazing smell of fresh gingerbread filled the kitchen.
“Mom!” Ivory yelled as a protest as Ambar quickly sneaked a cookie from the tin. “You don’t allow me to ever do that!”
“Grown up privileges,” Ambar shrugged as she started typing a email, “Sorry darling. You’re gonna get enough cookies surely. Dad sais yesterday that Grandma just sent some over.”
“What are you doing?” Ivory asked Laura was had been arranging tubes of different colored royal-icing around.
“I wanted lighter pink for the what, so I made some.”
“Cool, can I make yellow?!”
“Yellow’s not a color you can make.”’
“Why not.”
“I don’t know. It just isn’t.”
And here we have our Gastina/Lutte/Simbar girlie besties, because of course we do. I'm juyst gonn say this here, the kids will feature a lot in this calendar so I will always on a new story state how old they are, jst to make things easier.
Also, the if the stuff about Nina being worried felt random, it's supposed to. What she actually was afraid of and what happened over ten years ago is intentionally vague... keep your eyes peeled for all my stories during the holiday seasons. You may or may not get answers... but leave quesses in the comments!!
1 note
·
View note
Text
Straight Into Nonlinearity
If you read the hardcore climate science news, say the stuff that appears on phys.org, you probably noticed the articles over the last few years that mentioned scientists fretting about things becoming “non-linear”. Last year seemed to me to be an inflection point; I began saying “2100 is here, 78 years early”. That was based on anecdotes piling up, things that had never happened before coming one after the other in quick succession. That graph is science.
We have to call it something. These are the early years of the Anthropocene, which could be conveniently dated to 1945, thanks to unnatural radioisotopes that started with the Trinity test. But these events of 2022/2023 have the same relationship to the Anthropocene that the Chixilub bolide had to the Paleogene. One is an event, the other a period of time.
I’m glad that’s settled. Welcome to the Nonlinearity.
This is a recurring theme for me. First Dead Gods of Atacama in 2009, then Gamma Draconis Rising in 2017. They’re not precisely the dictionary definition of jeremiads, but I’m no Puritan.
The Book of Jeremiah prophesies the coming downfall of the Kingdom of Judah, and asserts that this is because its rulers have broken the covenant with the Lord. There’s a different covenant that forms the basis of my views – Thomas Covenant. His Wikipedia article describes him as “an embittered and cynical writer, afflicted with leprosy and shunned by society, and fated to become the heroic savior of the Land, an alternate world.”
I read the first two trilogies as they came out in junior high and high school. Donaldson took a twenty one year break between 1983’s White Gold Wielder and 2004’s The Runes of the Earth. Back in 2010 I read all 4,250 pages of Stephen King’s The Dark Tower over the summer. Given the condition of my reading queue I don’t see myself adding something the size of the final Covenent tetralogy, let alone revisiting the first two trilogies, and I wouldn’t read the tetralogy without that review.
Maybe it’s easier for you to sit and listen for a little over six minutes to a fifty year old song.
youtube
Some of them were angry
At the way the earth was abused
By the men who learned how to forge her beauty into power
And they struggled to protect her from them
Only to be confused
By the magnitude of her fury in the final hour
And when the sand was gone and the time arrived
In the naked dawn only a few survived
And in attempts to understand a thing
So simple and so huge
Believed that they were meant to live after the deluge
=================================
Twenty five years ago I stood on the fantail of a tour boat in Resurrection Bay, holding my infant son, watching a tower of ice a fifth of a mile tall come off the front of a tidewater glacier. More than half of the rest of the passengers were throwing up over the railings, having made the mistake of eating the smoked salmon on the buffet.
Today the salmon runs are fading and without the phosphorus they transported upstream the forests of the Pacific Northwest are nutrient starved. They'll burn, sooner rather than later, and the conditions under which they evolved are gone.
The tidewater glaciers of the Kenai Fjords still put on one of nature's greatest shows, but we stopped at the visitor center at the far end of the Turnigan Arm on our way to that cruise. The place where the visitors center stands was under a thousand feet of ice when my grandparents were born, right at the end of the 19th century.
I don't mention Last Of The Laurentide nearly so often as I do the other two essays I mentioned above, but today seems like a good time for that.
1 note
·
View note
Note
Hi!! Could you do headcanons of Diluc, Kayea, Childe and Zhongli with a s/o who is touch starved but is too shy to intimate physical affection please? Thank you!💙
decided to answer the two of these in the same ask since they have similar personalities for the reader, and they evolved into scenarios. hopefully what i’ve written is all right!
edit: to the second anon, i’m sorry, i don’t know how people write more than 500 characters in asks. ㅠㅠ is it maybe a submission . . . ?
childe:
as a very perceptive individual, childe would pick up on your hesitations relatively soon, however won’t say anything about them outright.
while he may ask you if something’s wrong whenever you reach out, but self-consciously pull away, or when you’re on the verge of words but can’t bring yourself to speak, he won’t pry into your meekness.
he knows that some people prefer to keep things to themselves or away from others – he’s a prime example of this himself. so he doesn’t want to push you, but will continue to keep mental tabs on when you shrink away, or backtrack after you sound as if you’re going to ask him something.
if the trend continues for a while, he’ll eventually sit down to talk with you about it. he’ll discuss with you patiently, not wanting to invade past things you might not want to share just yet, but he still tries to find the cause of your hesitancies so he can better understand you.
“there’s something bothering you, isn’t there?” he leans forward across the table, and rests his chin on his hand. “you can tell me, you know. i’ll try and help you with it.”
as you take your time to answer, he grows increasingly concerned, but still wears a poker face to not influence you as well. across the table, he’ll slowly reach out his hand as a means of comfort, and clasp yours when you don’t pull away.
you begin to speak about your uncertainties, and childe listens intently. ah, so that was it – now that you mention it, the two of you don’t hold hands much, or really touch each other. he had assumed that’s how you preferred it, little to no physical touch. but now that you’ve explained why you’ve concealed those wishes . . .
“i’d be more than willing to hold you.” childe’s words are soft, and he manages a small smile to encourage you. as soon as your face flushes, though, he can tell that there’s something else you want to say. so he pauses, expectant, but you still seem nervous.
he takes a gander and speaks. “we can start off slow, if you want . . . actually, anything you want, you can tell me. you don’t have to worry about being embarrassed.”
from there, the two of you work out what you want. you both agree to take it slow, since this will be a first for you; small touches against each other’s fingers as reassurance, and taps against his shoulder when you’re too nervous to outright ask for his attention. he also has something of his own to suggest:
“there’s some custom that mondstadtians have,” childe ponders aloud suddenly. “hm – something about tapping three times, meaning ‘i love you’?”
at his notion, you become bashful, and look down towards your lap. you know where he’s going with this, and at your reaction, the snezhnayan chuckles, unfolding his hands from atop each other to squeeze yours in demonstration.
“one, two, three. it’s just gonna be between us, all right?”
diluc:
diluc is arguably one of the most emotionally reserved characters in all of mondstadt. sure, he’s got a sense of dry humor and wit whenever he feels snarky enough, but when it comes to personal sentiments? he keeps them behind lock and key, with the exception of passive aggression.
if you’re self-conscious about asking for affection, such as when you’re about to reach out to tap at his hand yet pull back at the last instant, you find him looking at you expectatntly, his notorious half-lidded gaze fixated on you. if there’s something you want, you’ll ask for it is his mentality, since he assumes that the two of you are both comfortable enough in your relationship to do so. and relationships are built around trust. so why are you hesitating?
that is to say, he doesn’t stare at you until you crack. after a few seconds, he’ll look away, and resume whatever he was doing beforehand. if it were anyone else, he’d most likely ask them verbally what they want, since there’s no use in prolonging the time, and he’s an impatient man.
he makes a conscious effort to be more gentle with you. he can’t quite tell if you appreciate it though especially in these scenarios, since you always chew at your lip and refrain from looking at him afterwards.
diluc will only allude to these instances. he’ll ask “is there something you need?” or “is something the matter?” he has no experience with physical affection of any sort, at least since his father all those years ago. so he’d be quite lost with your circumstance; he doesn’t know at all what you want unless you make a verbal indication as to what it is.
one day, in the privacy of his office, he senses your fingers just near his forearm. diluc looks over in time to see you clasp his coat rather shakily, but your hold is there nonetheless. much like usual, he’ll peer at you with a half-lidded gaze, although this time he addresses how skittish you appear.
“something the matter?” he’ll say as per usual, but this time he isn’t vague; he’s referring to your sudden committance to reaching out as opposed to pulling away.
“ . . . just wanted to hold you.” your confession is a mere whisper, but your boyfriend still hears it. the two of you sit in silence for a bit, before he turns his body and puts his hand on the side of your head, pressing gently so that you lean flush against his arm.
you’re speechless, however the circumstance doesn’t need words anymore. content with you hugging his arm, and now understanding your wants, diluc continues to work as you drift asleep against him. while there’s still a ways to go, as he’s sure that this isn’t the only desire you have, it’s surely a start.
kaeya:
the astute captain that he is, kaeya can hone into your desires with relative ease.
before you can retract your hand after reaching out, he’s already grasped it in his own. you’re caught off-guard, not expecting his agility, but his grip isn’t firm or unpleasant; it’s gentle, as if he’s caring for glass.
he lowers his face so that the two of you are eye-level. “no need to be shy. it’s just us.” kaeya’s reassurance is playful at first, until your contemplative silence queues him in on the severity of your timidness.
he’s concerned: is there something serious that’s bothering you? he’d just assumed that you wanted to hold hands, or lean on each other. for how long it takes you to speak, he’s thinking the worst: is a coworker bothering you? are you ill with a fever? kaeya’s eyebrows furrow, and he immediately speaks again. “what’s wrong, precious? tell me, please.”
looking up at him, you realize that he has the wrong impression. tenderly enveloping your cheek with his hands, rubbing your skin with his thumbs, you sink into the affection – but he’s got the wrong idea.
“i-it’s fine,” you begin, and he blinks rapidly. “just . . . wanted to, uh,” you nudge further into his hands, and squeeze his arms gently, “ . . . touch you.”
ah. your meekness makes sense now, although considering your personality, his initial guesses probably wouldn’t have been far off. nevertheless, kaeya indulges you, even if you both continue the circumstance in silence. it’s evident that you’ve been holding back this request for a while, and as much as he loves to tease and would like to in this moment, he doesn’t believe now is an appropriate time.
so, kaeya continues to stroke your face, soothing away your nerves. his other hand clasps yours in your lap, giving you the time and affection you crave.
he finds your vulnerability endearing, but there’s guilt on his conscience: why have you been nervous to approach him about this, and why did he not pick up on it sooner? not that he expects you to come for him for everything – kaeya just theorizes that there must be some reason as to why you appear so touch-starved, and he’s thinking the worst about such a reason.
“feeling better?” he inquires, still cradling your face, and he pulls you into a hug. his warmth is reassuring to you – the security that you’ve longed for. if this is what affection feels like, you’re not sure that you’d ever want to pull away.
“yeah.” hesitantly, you lift your face from his chest, but your arms remain around his waist. your boyfriend grins slightly, and ruffles your hair, pushing your bangs aside so he can kiss your forehead.
“tell me about it. we can figure this out together.”
zhongli:
about three weeks into your relationship is when zhongli receives questions from hu tao: “hey, you and y/n don’t touch each other at all. i know you’re ‘professional’ and stuff, but jeez – not even hand-holding? thought it’d get more exciting at this point.”
and while he initially thought of her remarks as rude – your relationship isn’t any of her business – it did prompt him to consider her words.
specifically, she’s right: while he’s generally busy at wangsheng, he strives to make time for you whenever possible. and in that time, never once have either of you touched each other. he’s never minded, since he’s admittedly gone without it for so long and is used to life without it – but it’s the modern age, and isn’t it customary for liyuens to . . . ?
so he takes it upon himself to ask you over dinner. he’s made bamboo shoot soup for you tonight, and as you sit across the table from him, finishing the dish, he speaks so candidly it nearly makes you choke on your last bite.
“would you like to hold hands in the market tomorrow?”
“what?”
zhongli makes a strange face. he knows you heard him, so why do you also look startled, and are averting your eyes?
he repeats himself nonetheless, and while you do answer him this time, it’s by mumbling under your breath.
“ – odd question,” is how you start, and your boyfriend folds his hands underneath his face, yet doesn’t rest his chin. “um, sure. yeah, sure . . . ”
you most definitely do not sound sure, but it’s in a way that further perplexes him. you look . . . thrilled now? he can see that you’re refraining from smiling – the corners of your mouth flutter – but why? zhongli doesn’t recall saying anything that would be good news . . .
“is something the matter?” the archon supplies instead, to which you shake your head. your hands are in your lap.
“ah, no. what you said just came out of no where.” an unconcealed smile from you now, and zhongli finds himself relaxing. if you’re certain, that’s all he cares about.
he stands up, and prepares to take your dish to the kitchen. before though, he makes sure to bring you up to your feet, and intertwines his fingers with yours.
“may i kiss you?” he asks, suddenly, unexpectedly. he sees you nod, the slight pressing of your lips together, and gives them a quick peck before retreating; zhongli can still taste the slight bamboo left over.
when the two of you draw away, there’s a noticeable flush on your cheeks. once more, you seem giddy, however this time he doesn’t have to ask why.
“i’ve never done this before.” there’s trepidation in your voice that causes his brows to furrow slightly. “so . . . it’s all right if we start out slow, right?”
“of course,” zhongli doesn’t hesitate to respond. you could mean so many things, and he isn’t sure which you’re referring to: initiating physicality with him, or maybe that you’ve never had a partner before . . . ? but he doesn't dwell on that. “your comfort is what matters.”
in the market the next day, zhongli finds comfort in the slight tugs on his coat sleeve from your fingers, and the smile that beams on your visage.
#genshin impact x reader#childe x reader#diluc x reader#zhongli x reader#kaeya x reader#childe headcanons#childe scenarios#diluc headcanons#diluc scenarios#zhongli headcanons#zhongli scenarios#kaeya headcanons#kaeya scenarios#fluff#asks: diluc#asks: childe#asks: kaeya#asks: zhongli
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
[CN] Gavin’s Divination Date
🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 占卜之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒
[ Released on 16 September 2021 ]
MC: Gavin, I’ve been way too unlucky recently! I fell down while riding a bicycle, the water supply was cut halfway during a shower, and last week, three flights were delayed by more than two hours within the span of three days... Sob sob, life is so difficult...
It’s a Saturday, and Gavin has come over to my house to kill time as usual. The moment we meet, I can’t help but wail about how I painstakingly got through the week.
As though he’s comforting a small animal, his palm gently covers the top my head.
Gavin: You’ve already told me these things.
He pulls me over to sit on the sofa, then leans over to look at my knee. Knowing his intentions and feeling afraid that he’s genuinely worried, I hurriedly wave my hands.
MC: Actually, it wasn’t a serious fall, and my skin didn’t tear. There were a few red cuts, but they're gone now.
Even after confirming the veracity of what I said, Gavin doesn’t straighten up. His fingers rub my knee, conveying his belated consolation.
After a while, he rests an arm on the sofa while turning his head towards me.
Gavin: Want to drink milk tea or eat cake? Didn’t you say that with these two things, even the worst of moods can be turned into the clearest of skies?
With this reminder, a location instantly flashes past my mind.
MC: Let’s drink coffee!
I reach for my phone on the coffee table. Tapping on my saved searches, I show Gavin a shop.
MC: This one - Witch Café. The name’s a little outdated, but it’s really popular recently. I’ve seen many people checking in on Moments.
MC: The manager of this shop knows divination, and the reviews mentioned that she’s really accurate...
MC: Also, if the results from the divination aren’t that great, she could help turn my fortune around.
MC: The shop sells lots of objects used for changing one’s fortune, such as crystal rings and bracelets.
MC: I think what I need most right now, aside from you... would be a change of fortune!
Gavin bursts into a laugh, then lifts his head to look at me.
Gavin: It’s my fault for not learning divination to change your fortune for the better. Otherwise, you’d only need me.
Gavin’s quick wit causes me to do a thumbs-up.
MC: Wow. Your logic... makes a little bit of sense.
He scrolls down my phone screen, taking a casual look at the café’s introduction.
Gavin: Mm, it looks really interesting and isn’t very far.
MC: It’s really nearby. It’s only a few kilometres away, and there definitely won’t be a traffic jam at his hour. But it’s the weekend, so I’m not sure if we’d need to queue.
Gavin takes my phone from my hand, then pushes me on the back gently.
Gavin: Get changed. I’ll give them a call to make a reservation.
I immediately get up, giving him a deliberately formal bow.
MC: Understood.
-
The internet-famous café is even more popular than I imagined. Although it isn’t time for afternoon tea yet, the shop is already fully packed.
Fortunately, we’re seated in a relatively quiet corner next to the window. However, we can still hear a few ladies from the neighbouring table fervently discussing the results of their divination.
I tug on Gavin’s sleeve from across the table.
MC: Gavin, you’ve never believed in such things, have you?
Gavin: Divination?
Gavin nods frankly, then suddenly chuckles.
Gavin: I initially wanted to say that I didn’t believe it. But I suddenly remembered that an Evolver who can predict the future is sitting right in front of me.
MC: ...that’s true?!
Realising this, I sink into a deep contemplation. Gavin reaches out to scratch the tip of my nose.
Gavin: I meant that as a joke. It’s impossible to meet a second Evolver with a precognition ability.
I glare at Gavin angrily. He shifts his gaze, looking at the manager who is currently talking to patrons.
Gavin: But she is an Evolver.
MC: Really?
I turn my head to look. The manager is wearing a black apron, and she’s bending down as she patiently explains the divination symbol to a patron, her smile warm and amiable.
She exudes an aura which makes whatever she says very believable.
Just as my anticipation is hooked, Gavin stifles it with his words.
Gavin: But it definitely isn’t related to precognition.
MC: I see...
When Gavin sees that my anticipation has dampened, he pushes a blueberry cake in front of me.
Gavin: Don’t feel disappointed yet. Divination has never needed to rely on Evol. You’ll know if it’s accurate after giving it a try.
He digs a small piece of cake with a spoon, then brings it over to me. Munching on it, my eyes widen as I look at him.
MC: Incredibly! Delicious!
The cake exceeded my expectations. Thinking that the coffee might be pretty good too, I quickly lift the cup of coffee from the table.
In the meantime, Gavin picks up the explanatory card the manager had just brought over, and starts reading from it.
Gavin: It says that once you’ve finished drinking the coffee, you have to press the bell to call for the manager. The manager will obtain the divination results after observing the shape of the coffee sediments.
Gavin: Before the divination, you could think of the contents of the divination first.
Gavin: If you have a ring or another token, you could prepare it beforehand. Place it at the bottom of the cup afterwards to increase the effectiveness.
After reading this, he rests his chin against his hand while chuckling softly.
Gavin: It’s almost the same as the tarot cards we tried the last time.
I take the explanatory card from him. Opening it up, I give it a sweeping glance.
MC: ...so it’s tasseography. I did research on it when we were playing with tarot cards the last time. Afterwards, I realised how complicated it is to interpret the divination results, so I gave up on learning it.
Finishing the rest of the coffee in one gulp, I press the copper bell at the corner of the table.
Upon hearing the bell, the manager looks up and shoots me a smile while washing a coffee cup. After wiping her hands, she walks over to us.
Manager: Are the both of you done with your coffee?
Seeing me nod in anticipation, she picks up the serving tray on the table, placing it next to the coffee cup.
Manager: May I know how I should address you?
MC: MC.
Manager: MC, lift the coffee cup and sway it gently while contemplating on your divination question. Once you’re done, place the cup upside down onto the tray.
I follow her instructions.
After a short while, she uncovers the cup, displaying the shape of the coffee sediments inside it.
Manager: Based on the results, you seem to have been going through a rough time lately, and your mood hasn’t been great. Is this correct?
MC: !!!
I immediately look at Gavin, thinking that this is far too accurate.
The manager seems to detect an affirmation from my expression. She sets down the coffee cup, then retrieves two wrapped chocolate cookies from her apron.
Manager: I made them this afternoon, and they’re for you. Based on the shape of the coffee sediments, although you might have experienced some rough moments recently, all the unhappy moments have already passed. Over the next few days, you’ll receive good news in succession, and you’ll be happier.
While saying this, she leans over, her slightly curled hair exuding a floral fragrance which refreshes the soul, causing me to be left in a mild daze.
Gavin suddenly speaks up.
Gavin: You’re using Evol.
The manager pauses in fright. For a moment, she’s at a loss, and has no choice but to bow slightly with her hands by her side.
Manager: I’m sorry, have I offended the both of you?
Seeing her frantic expression, I hurriedly shake my head.
MC: I-it’s fine... we don’t discriminate against Evolvers. And I’m sure you didn’t have malicious intentions.
The manager’s shoulders slump in resignation, admitting her “little magic” to us candidly.
Manager: ...I just wanted to send a flower into your memories.
MC: Send a flower?
Seeing that I didn’t understand what she meant, she explains patently.
Manager: Sorry, that’s a phrase I use in the shop.
Manager: Through tasseography, I can truly tell that you haven’t been in a good mood recently. But it’s very difficult to change your future fortune.
Manager: In order to lift the spirits of patrons who do divinations, I use my Evol to alter their memories slightly.
Manager: However, my Evol has its limits. The only thing I can do is add something small that’s worthwhile of happiness into their unhappy memories, such as a flower.
Manager: Are you willing to give it a try?
Considering how frank she is, I can’t find a reason to refuse. Furthermore, no incidents will occur with Gavin around.
MC: Mm...
The manager’s hand gently glides across me. Although I feel as though nothing happened, she signals that she’s done. Gavin stares at me curiously.
Gavin: Are there any changes to your memories?
I inexplicably recall the time when I fell off the bicycle, and images beginning from the moment I fell surface in my mind -
The path in front of me is tilted, and I can’t control my plummet towards my left side.
These images are exactly the same as what actually happened, but in the very last snippet -
In an unremarkable corner of the crosswalk, a blue wild flower sways along with the breeze.
MC: A flower? There’s really a flower!
For some reason, seeing this flower enveloped in sunlight causes my emotions to become much more composed, reducing the annoyance I felt about the fall.
The manager releases a joyful sigh, then continues her soft explanation on why she does such things.
Manager: People often have a deep impression of negative things, while happy moments are fleeting. Unhappy memories linger much longer in memories.
Manager: So I thought - if I could add an element of happiness into the unhappy memories of patrons, such as a flower, or a ray of sunlight...
Manager: Their unhappy memories may become a little brighter. On a subconscious level, their mood would naturally become better.
Manager: With a good mood to lift them up, they’d focus on the positive aspect of things the next time they face something else. That’s why they’d find that their fortunes have truly turned for the better.
After saying this, the manager looks at the both of us before apologising again softly.
Manager: Even though I use Evol on patrons, I don’t have malicious intentions. Could you be magnanimous and not report me?
I toss a glance at Gavin, hoping that the Captain would close an eye this time.
After pondering for a moment, Gavin nods calmly at the manager.
Gavin: I won’t report you, but don’t use Evol on patrons in the future.
He looks at me from the side, then reaches out to grab a tissue before wiping it gently against the corner of my lips. Lowering my head, I spot blueberry coloured cream on the white tissue.
Gavin: I believe that your coffee and snacks are enough to bring patrons happiness.
The manager grabs my hand in relief, thanking me repeatedly.
Manager: Thank you both for liking my coffee and cakes. I’ll give another present to the both of you.
-
By the time we leave the café, it’s still early. Gavin and I aren’t in a hurry to go back. Holding hands, we take a stroll beneath the shade of trees.
We can’t help but bring up what happened in the café earlier.
MC: It turns out that it’s so simple to change one’s mood. Adding an element of happiness into unhappy memories is enough.
Surrounded by the chirping of cicadas, even Gavin’s voice reveals a refreshing and carefree touch of summer.
Seeing his slightly sweat-damped fringe sticking to his temples, I retrieve a tissue from my bag and wipe it for him.
Gavin: I remember that you once mentioned that the secret to maintaining a happy life is to focus on the positive side of things.
While saying this, Gavin takes the tissue in my hand and stores it into his own pocket.
MC: Mm, that’s right! Actually, such forms of self comfort are pretty effective.
MC: Even though I fell while riding a bike, I told myself that it was fortunate that it wasn’t anything more than a fall.
MC: When the water supply was cut while I was showering, it only happened because I didn’t pay attention to the announcement by the property management...
MC: I’d just learn from this experience and check the announcement board more often.
MC: Also, the flights were delayed due to torrential rain. It was an objective reason, and nobody could have expected it.
MC: A lady from the airline company even gave me orange juice and a small gift.
Gavin chuckles leisurely, meeting my gaze from the corner of his eyes.
Gavin: Many things may not have happened according to how you wished over the short span of a week. Immersing yourself in the state of mind that everything wouldn’t go smoothly made you forget to look at the positive side of everything.
MC: Mm, but I can’t help it... Maintaining an optimistic outlook is really difficult. It’s inevitable to feel discouraged.
While saying this, I tighten my grip on his hand.
MC: But now, I know that if I face any unhappy moments in the future, I just have to search for a flower.
Gavin stops in his footsteps, lowering his eyes and giving me a smile.
Gavin: Have you thought of a new method to cheer yourself up?
I release a matter-of-fact “mm”. Pulling his collar, I give him a gentle peck on the chin.
MC: Whenever I face an unlucky incident, all I have to do is tell you immediately, and I’d immediately be comforted by you...
MC: That way, I’d no longer be unhappy.
Gavin is taken aback momentarily. Then, he smiles faintly while looking at me.
MC: Whether it’s a fall or a delayed flight... The moment I share these things with you, the moodiness in my heart vanishes like smoke. The reason why I specially complained to you today was just to play coy.
I draw closer to him, swinging our interlaced hands.
MC: In the café earlier, I didn’t take the crystal bracelet she offered to change my fortune for the better...
MC: I already have a bracelet which can bring me the greatest luck in the world.
I lower my head. Fragments of sunlight fall onto the ginkgo bracelet, refracting resplendent and exquisite faint light.
MC: This ginkgo leaf makes me happier than any other flower. No matter when, simply looking at it lifts my mood instantly.
Gavin doesn't release my hand. Instead, he pulls my hand to his back, bringing me into his arms gently.
The verdant trees and chirping of cicadas intertwine. The clean fragrance of shower gel from the side of his neck causes me to wrap my arms around him tightly.
Gavin: I knew that you were playing coy. Trivial matters have never influenced your mood. You’re always very good at comforting yourself and seeing the positive side of everything. But the bracelet alone isn’t enough. The next time you come looking for me, I’ll definitely do something that’d make you even happier.
After saying this, he can’t help but release a resigned chuckle.
Gavin: ...even though I haven’t thought of what I’d do.
I burst into a chuckle, then bury my head into his embrace completely.
Gavin: But there will definitely be things that I can do to add an element of happiness into your unhappy memories.
Dense green hues and shadows fall on his shoulders. Lifting my head, I see faint light riding the wind through crevices of large clouds in the faraway sky.
Leisurely and carefree ants pass by the slabstone road, winding around a fallen green leaf, and I can’t tell if they’re taking a stroll or scavenging for food.
Summer is flourishing, and this moment is incomparably tranquil.
My heart is filled to the brim with contentedness and happiness. Even my tone is relaxed and at ease.
MC: Gavin, you have to promise me one thing. If you’re unhappy about something in the future, you have to tell me about it immediately, okay? I can add many, many elements of happiness into your memories so that you wouldn’t even have half a second of unhappiness. I can guarantee that.
I lift my head to look at Gavin. With our close proximity, I can see his amber eyes reflecting large swathes of lush branches and leaves belonging exclusively to midsummer.
The gentleness flowing from these eyes aren’t stingy at all as they land on my face.
MC: We have to be the ever-fresh and blooming flowers in each of our memories, forever swaying in the wind.
Gavin releases a soft “okay”. He rests his chin on my shoulder, tightening his grip around my waist.
He murmurs at my ear.
Gavin: There’s no need for a guarantee. Your existence has always been the most brightly-coloured flower in my memories.
[ MOMENTS ]
Gavin’s Post: Different flavours of sodas seem to be really popular this summer.
MC: In order to clear the existing stock in the fridge, it’s time to have supper!
Gavin: Pick between mala crayfish and barbecue?
-
Gavin’s Post: Different flavours of sodas seem to be really popular this summer.
MC: Soda is always the best!
Gavin: Although that’s true, it’s best to drink fewer cold beverages.
-
Gavin’s Post: Different flavours of sodas seem to be really popular this summer.
MC: Pick between white peach and tangerine!
Gavin: I’ll pick the one you like less.
☕ Call: here
☕ Support the café (not the one mentioned in the date) by dropping by the tip jar!
#mlqc#mlqc cn#mlqc spoilers#mlqc gavin#AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THE FLUFF#the disjunct between his sprite and his outfit in the karma brings me physical pain BUT ALL IS FORGIVEN
113 notes
·
View notes
Text
in the end, it’s always you - ch. 2
Rated: T
Word count: 1k
written for @adrinetteapril day 2 - Hold Tight
Read on AO3
—————
Marinette gripped at the handlebars of her motorcycle as the cool spring breeze sent a chill down her spine, swerving past cars and keeping an eye out for any large trucks.
“You okay?” She heard Adrien shout from behind her.
“I’m fine!” She shouted back over her shoulder, hoping that he was able to hear her over the roar of traffic. It was a sunny afternoon on a Saturday, which naturally meant that dozens of families had flocked to the middle of Paris for a day out. Still, Marinette hadn’t expected the roads to be this jam-packed. She was starting to have regrets about her and Adrien’s impromptu trip around town.
In the week since she’d finished her design project, Marinette had found herself spending as much time with Adrien as her hectic schedule would allow - walks around the neighbourhood, meeting up with their friends, even just grocery shopping. She hadn’t realised just how much she missed sharing a quiet moment with him, occasionally rolling her eyes and laughing at his jokes.
Suddenly Marinette spotted an upcoming turn-off and seized the opportunity to switch lanes, figuring that they could both use a break from the bustling city centre. Once the traffic light turned green she swerved to the right, and smiled as they were greeted by a small, far quieter street filled with stalls and cafés.
“I’ve never been through this part of town before.” Adrien murmured as he took in their surroundings.
“Me neither,” Marinette said. “You up for a drink of some kind?”
“God, yeah, I could really use one.”
After finding a space where they could leave the motorcycle, the pair made their way up the street, giving themselves time to take it all in. The cafés seemed rather quaint, and were mostly empty to Marinette’s surprise, meanwhile the stalls were full of all kinds of goods, from fruits and vegetables to fresh pastries that reminded her of her childhood home.
“Hey, it looks like they’re selling lemonade over there!” Adrien exclaimed, pointing towards a white and yellow stall up ahead. There was a crowd of people surrounding it, and every so often someone would walk away holding a cup that, sure enough, was filled with lemonade.
Marinette frowned. “Should we go there? I was thinking of somewhere a little less busy-”
“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.” Adrien continued onward, and Marinette had to bite down on her lip to stop herself from squealing when he took her hand in his. It wasn’t like they never held hands - quite the contrary, they held hands all the time - but there was something so terrifying and, dare she say it, amazing about being this close to him in public, while he acted as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
In the year since they’d defeated Hawkmoth and slowly returned to a more ‘normal’ life, Marinette felt like she’d come so far and at the same time absolutely nowhere with Adrien. He’d seen her at her highest and lowest moments, he’d laughed and danced with her as they sung cheesy pop songs in their kitchen late at night, he’d held her in his arms as she cried and whispered words of reassurance in her ear, he was someone who she trusted with her very life. Yet something as small as their fingers brushing or an absent minded cheek kiss was enough to undo her. It was maddening in the worst way possible.
By the time they reached the stall the queue had shortened considerably, and within a few minutes they had ordered their drinks.
“Business must be booming today.” Adrien murmured, bending down so his and Marinette’s faces were level.
“Oh, definitely.” She said, frantically tapping her foot and hoping that her face hadn’t gone red.
Right at that moment the stallholder strode up to the counter, carrying with him a pair of cups.
“There you go, some fresh lemonade for the happy couple.” He said with a smile as Adrien took the cups from him. His remark seemed to surprise Adrien, who quickly passed a cup to Marinette before fumbling around in his pockets for some change.
“Oh, thank you so much for the drinks, sir,” He said once he’d found the money and handed it over, “but we’re, er, not a couple.”
Although Marinette kept her eyes fixed on her lemonade, she could hear the awkward uncertainty in Adrien’s voice when he spoke, and as they walked back to the motorcycle she kept replaying that one line in her head, again and again.
————
“We should do this kind of thing more often.”
Marinette opened her eyes and chuckled quietly, not getting up from her spot on the grass.
“What, going for rides around town on my motorcycle?”
“Yeah!” Adrien propped himself up onto his elbows, “it’s fun, it doesn’t cost us anything, and more importantly, it means we can just relax and enjoy the sunny weather together.”
She was tempted to point out that they could do that on their apartment’s balcony at any time, but instead she smiled and nodded her head in agreement. After the less than comfortable interaction they’d had at the lemonade stall, they’d decided to stop by the Place des Vosges to finish their drinks and try to forget about it.
“You know, I’m kind of surprised that you’ve never taken me for a ride on your motorcycle before.” Marinette heard him say after she’d closed her eyes again.
“You never asked.” She responded once she’d changed positions and was sitting upright. Adrien stared at her, smiling.
“Touché.”
Suddenly the silence was broken by the sound of Marinette’s phone buzzing; upon checking it, she was relieved to see a familiar name appear in her notifications bar.
“It’s Alya.” She said, tucking her phone away in her pocket. “She was wondering if we could go to her and Nino’s place for a catch-up.”
Adrien grinned and promptly rose to his feet.
“Awesome! When are we going?”
“Right now.”
Seconds later they both had their helmets on and were raring to go.
“Hold tight.” Marinette instructed; right away Adrien wrapped his arms around her waist and clung to her firmly.
“As you wish, m’lady.”
With that, Marinette revved the throttle and began the drive to Alya and Nino’s house.
#better late than never sdjksdhjskdh#adrinette april#adrinetteapril2022#adrinette april 2022#miraculous ladybug#miraculous ladybug fanfic#ml fanfic#adrinette#adrienette#marinette dupain cheng#adrien agreste#pfb writes
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Blitz
Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader (Haikyuu!!)
word count: 2.5k
TW: 18+, smut, exhibitionism, a spritz of omorashi
A/N: this is completely diff from what I’m used to and comfy with; it’s truly the softest thing I’ll ever write— for the real angel, Weese, who welcomed me into my first ever fandom with open arms. I wouldn’t be here without you, wouldn’t have met any of my best friends were it not for you. From the bottom of boku no kokoro, Happy Birthday <33
Weese’s Birthday Bash masterlist
blitz
/blits/
a sudden, energetic, and concerted effort, typically on a specific task.
(slang) heavily intoxicated
He gives credit where credit’s due, and in all fairness, you have been well-behaved, glued to his side til 2am that night. Might even be a new record; usually you’d have gone off and disappeared at the strike of midnight like you’ve got a pumpkin carriage awaiting, only it brings you to a different destination each time.
Whiskey mixers generally mean you end up at some twenty-four seven conbini chatting up the cashier to give you the karaage for a discounted price because you’ve ‘lost your wallet’. It’s never lost; Ushijima knows this because he’s chained it to your belt, lil lobster claw too rickety for your drunk fingers to maneuver.
Tequila shots are the killer; the ones that get his protective mode on overdrive, eyes scanning the streets littered with stumbling drunks until he finds his stumbling drunk.
It’s currently quarter to three, which means it’s been a solid twenty minutes since you’ve wandered off. If he calculates the rate of distance in your drunken state, you couldn’t have traveled that far— two streets down, at most. He hopes, anyways.
Ushijima doesn’t like going out, doesn’t quite get the appeal of being shoved into crowds of people in a cramped room with perspiration mixing with other spilled fluids coating sticky skin. ‘It’s just ‘cause you’re too la-’ a hiccup, a giggle, ‘large, ushi.’ is your usual response. ‘Take up too much space.’
Ushijima goes out because you go out, and when you go out, your Find My Friends icon seems to like playing Pac-Man, navigating through the map like you’ve got dots to clear past every street and building. It worries him. So he goes out.
Tequila shots usually bring you to another club, whichever looks the most bustling, because you flock to crowds, like moth to flame. It’s your first character flaw.
“I’m not that drunk,” he whips his head to see your frame swaying outside the queue of a club entrance, bouncer leaning in close, too close.
Your second character flaw is that you’re too friendly. You tell him he’s too cold, too curt, but he thinks you’re just too outgoing. This is what happens when you’re so sociable.
It only takes him two long strides to cross over the street, extend out one long arm over to your shoulder, and pull you into his chest. The bouncer looks up at him, neck craning probably more than he’s used to, before spitting on the floor and turning back.
“Toooooshi,” he doesn’t think his name has that many vowels, but you’re pawing at his shirt, trying and failing to slither an arm around his waist. “‘m hungry.”
This is standard, this is the usual routine. He’s used to this now, “let’s go home, we have food at home.” After the third night out, he’s made a habit out of cooking before you leave. Because you’re always hungry, you always— “want Maccas,” you’re giggling.
“McDonald’s is going to be closed.” It’s a fact, there’s a slim chance you’ll make it before three, no point in wasting time. Besides, there’s food at home.
But you’re tugging at his arm and dragging him down the street, and he’s letting you, because the best way to appease you is to let you see for yourself. You’re bouncing with excited chirps, skipping down the road with grace that will always impress him given the stilts attached to your feet.
McDonald’s is closed.
It’s like he said, so he allows you to pout and sulk for a minute, run a hand down your back in comfort, before taking out his phone to call a cab. He can feel your shoulder bump into his chest, hands fidgeting with the hem of your short dress, “what’s wrong?”
You’re blushing, cheeks tinting over with a light shade of pink illuminated by the bright yellow lights, and it’d be cute if he wasn’t worried. “What’s wrong?”
Another tug at the black fabric, eyelashes fluttering to point towards the wall, the sign; anywhere except him. “I need to pee.”
It comes out so quietly, so docile, a contrast to your otherwise boisterous drunken state. He leans down, face brushing past your hair until it’s only a mere inch away.
“What’s that?”
He watches as your glossed lips push out into a pout, huffing out a, “I need to pee, Toshi, I need the toilet.” Your heels clack on the gravel a few times as if to prove a point.
“I’m calling a cab right now,” he reassures you, “we’ll be home soon.”
You don’t seem reassured. You seem more anxious, if anything. “No, Toshi, I need to pee now,” he can feel your fingers fidgeting with his shirt, yanking the fabric in nervous twitches.
He watches you chew on your lip, willing a solution out from the pink gloss staining your teeth, any solution—
“Alley.”
It’s barely left his mouth before your head’s whipping to glance at the dark narrow street hidden behind the fast food joint. It’s tight, or maybe you’re right, he’s just too broad, but he barely fits down the cramped road.
You’re not moving, though, just staring up at him expectantly as if sending him a message, a signal. He doesn’t really get it. “It’s fine, there’s no one on the streets right now.”
Your bottom lip snags under your teeth, doe eyes looking up through fluttering lashes as you shake your head. The tint on your cheeks grow darker, and he takes a few steps forward, shadowing your smaller frame in his large silhouette. “I’ll block you, you can go now.”
Ushijima’s not the best with people, he’s always been told this. He knows it himself, but he thinks he knows you pretty well, at least.
He’s lost.
He’s waiting for you to say something, anything, an explanation for your odd behaviour, but instead he feels dainty fingers tug on his shirt again before shoving him lightly.
“Turn around,” you won’t look at him, eyes fixed on the broken bottle on the dingy alleyway floor, “Don’t look.”
People are a mystery to Ushijima, but at this moment, you are an enigma.
All 200 pounds of pure muscle on him is stagnant. He’s confused; he’s seen you naked, seen you from all angles in all sorts of positions, he’s brushed his teeth while you were using the toilet before— he doesn’t get it. So he tells you.
Your fists meekly punch at his arm, at his chest, wherever they can reach, “It’s embarrassing,” you’re pouting now, and he thinks it’s cute. Under any other circumstances he’d lean over and kiss you, but not right now. Right now he wants understand what’s going on up in your mind.
“Why?”
It sets you into a frustrated huff, cheeks puffing out before a dejected sigh, “fine, whatever,” and then you’re squatting down, finally, to his relief. Your dress is hitched up only a fraction before he hears the trickling, but you don’t stand up when it stops.
His whole body freezes at the feeling of a warm hand pawing at his crotch. “What are you doing?” He snatches your hand off by the wrist, pulling it into him to stand you up; you don’t stand up— you fall, on your knees in front of him.
He’s used to you being a handful when you’re drunk, used to you falling all over the place, but the alleyway is soiled, filthy, not entirely appropriate for the thoughts he’s having with you on your knees. So he’s trying again, reaching down to grab hold of both your hands this time, and lugging you up.
You don’t budge, don’t even glance up at him, and he has half the heart to reach down and carry you out, but another hand lands on his crotch again and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the strain in his trousers.
“Toooooooshi,” you’re still not looking up at him, eyes fixated on the growing tent he’s presenting in front of your face. Another soft touch, another purr, and Ushijima knows he’s a lost cause.
He lets go of your wrists, bending down to wrap an arm around your knees and picks you up before standing you back up against the wall.
“Spread your legs.” It’s not really a suggestion.
He watches as you comply, thighs parting as far as the black lace still bound around them will allow, so he rips it down before pocketing it.
He can hear your whines of complaint, it’s your favourite pair, but it’s all drowned out with a gasp as he buries his face into your wet cunt. His hands wrap behind your thighs, large palms pushing them apart until they rest over his shoulders.
His tongue flicks up your drooling slit, lapping at the juices dribbling out your needy hole and down his chin. You’re whimpering now, hands shoving at his face, “stop, Toshi, I—” he looks up at you, gaze piercing through your flushed expression, “I just peed, ‘ts gross.”
“I know.”
“Toshi we’re—” a moan, nails digging into his scalp when he dips his tongue into your clenching hole, “in public, please,” your face whips to the side, anxiously scanning for passerby’s.
“I know,” he echos with a harsh squeeze of your thighs, fucking you down onto his tongue. He can feel a hand threading through his hair, gripping and pulling while the other is obediently clamped over your mouth in an attempt to muffle wanton moans.
“Toshi, stop,” you’re crying now, legs around his head trembling with every lap and lick into your dripping cunt, nose grazing that sensitive bud as he presses your body into the wall. The fingers meekly pushing at his face are chased by your hips bucking against it, and he can feel your hole clench around his muscle.
He doesn’t stop.
He doesn’t stop because he can feel you coming undone, feel your tight cunny quiver with every thrust— and you do, with a loud sob of his name, before he removes his hand from under to clamp over your mouth.
“You’re gonna get us caught,” he doesn’t think you can hear him, your eyes rolling back and tongue pressing into the pads of his fingers.
He can still see your hole quivering when he stands back up and unbuckles his trousers. His aching erection springs free with a tug of his waistband, snapping up and wetting his shirt with pre.
Normally he would’ve prepared you better, laid you on your back and fucked you on his tongue and thick fingers until you’re wailing his name, legs shaking with the overstimulation. But he doesn’t have that luxury now, doesn’t have the soft mattress, the plush bedding to sink you into; he only has the brick wall digging into your back in a dingy alleyway.
So he sinks his cock into your drooling cunt, pushing his cockhead through the first ring of muscle. There’s nails clawing at his shoulders, back of his neck, anywhere they can reach, anywhere they can grasp.
It’s tight, so tight he doesn’t think he can fit, thinks he should’ve prepared you after all, but one look down at your tear-stricken face crumbles any inhibitions. His hips snap forward in the same breath his large palms find themselves back under your thighs, lifting you up against the wall.
The jagged wall is probably digging into your back, and normally he would’ve tried to appease the pain, shift the angle so you’re more comfortable, but right now all he can think about are your doughy walls sucking his cock in, one slow inch at a time.
It’s excruciating how tight you are; by the third inch you’re throwing your head into the crook of his neck, nails digging into his back trying to ease the stretch— Ushijima’s trying, too; trying to make sure he doesn’t drown in the feel of your fluttering walls and snap his hips forward until he can feel the kiss of your cervix on his cockhead.
It doesn’t work, not when you’re chanting his name like a mantra, crying about how full you feel, how much he’s stretching you out— you can feel him in your stomach.
He drops your body down into the thrust of his hips and buries his cock to hilt. Five seconds, then ten, then thirty; he lets you catch your breath, catch his breath, before you’re whimpering in his ear begging him to move.
There’s no time for modesty, an alleyway is hardly the setting for soft gentle sex. With a vice grip in the flesh of your ass, he hugs you into his chest and steadies a hand on the wall behind you.
He can feel your legs attempt to wrap around the width of his hips, his waist, can feel you cooing soft moans into his ears, can hear you sobbing his name like it’s the only word you know. Every piston of his hip echoes in the cramped alleyway, heavy balls papping against your mound.
He’s breathing in your moans, letting himself drown in you desperate whines of his name, “cum in me, Toshi, fill me up”— he’s shoving your pliant body into the harsh wall, arm moving down from the jagged surface to grip the soft flesh under your thigh.
In one swift movement he’s pinned your knees to your ears, limp calves bouncing off his sturdy shoulders as he pounds into you at an unrelenting pace.
Your moans turn to sobs, wails of Toshi, Toshi, Toshi; his breaths turn to grunts into promises to breed you so good, fill you up with his cum until it’s dripping out of your sweet lil cunny. There’s mini crescents marking up the back of his neck, dark purples and yellows running up along yours as he suctions onto new blank patches of skin.
Loud, unrhythmic squelching echos in the alleyway, his arms bouncing you onto his length until you twitch, spasm around his cock, and you’re coming undone for the second time that night with his name spilling out in broken sobs.
Ushijima doesn’t stop, fucks you through your squeals and shoves until he feels your greedy cunt milking his cock again, then he’s spilling into you with hot ropes of cum.
He doesn’t stop until your body’s gone pliant caged inside his, knees still pushed against the wall and saliva dribbling past your lolling tongue down to your messy pussy, mixing with creams of cum and slick and drool.
One limb at a time, he unfolds you and carries you in his arms, cradling your limp body into his chest. He looks down, admires your hazy gaze, pupils blown, and presses a gentle kiss onto your forehead.
A soft hum leaves your lips, or maybe a giggle, but you’re squirming in his arms, body leaning up until he can feel your soft lips grazing his ear.
“Toooshi,” you drawl, and he almost chokes at how fucked out you sound, the rasp in your voice sending dangerous jolts down to his no longer softening cock.
“Hm?” He’s debating on flagging a cab instead of calling one; can’t really reach into his pocket when you’re in his arms.
“Want Maccas.”
#ushijima wakatoshi#ushijima wakatoshi x reader#ushiwaka x reader#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#tw: exhibitionism#tw: omorashi#weese's birthday bash#wow that's the most legitimately i've ever tagged anything#no dubcon? no incest? no somno???#proper mental#a new milestone for me truly#this is genuinely the softest fluffiest thing you'll get outta me#i'm sorry please don't ask me to write anything like this#this was brewed from my undying love for weese and that's the only reason i could've concocted this#i promise u i couldn't write something this soft ever again if u asked me to#n e ways I LOVE U TIL DA END OF D EARTH WEESE#THANK U SO MUCH FOR BRINGING ALL OF US TOGETHER#YOU ARE THE RESON I'M ON HERE#YOU ARE THE REASON I'VE MET MY BEST FRIENDS#YOU'VE MADE THIS WEIRD TIME IN MY LIFE FUCKING INSANE AND UNFORGETTABLE#wow that sounds like i'm leaving#I'M NOT I'M JUST SAYING; THANK U FOR BEING U#THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE FOR US EVERYDAY; FOR BEING AN ABSOLUTE LIGHT IN OUR LIVES#I HAVE NO WORDS TO EXPRESS MY LOVE SO JUST TAKE THIS FIC#take this masterlist as a token of our appreciation and love for u bb#i hope i didn’t mischaracterize ur husband 2222 much <33 oopsies hhh
2K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
adoodle-mday
Art Is A Thing?
niececoach43
İsimsiz
parker-fluff
Spider-Man Obsessed TK Writer
kirsten-dodgen
Kirsten Dodgen
shapehouse2
The Journey of Burgess 751