Yang xiao long has her mothers eyes when she is desperate and her lovers when she is kind welcome to my ted talk-

Time After Time: Victor’s Firsts (MLQC NSFW Headcanon)

Hey everyone!  

Thanks to all who voted in my Twitter poll to see whose NSFW “Firsts” headcanons they wanted to read next. 💕Victor was the undisputed victor (haha!) over Kiro, so I hope you all enjoy my longest headcanons to date...ALL 18 MINUTES OF IT! (these totally got out of hand, for whatever reason LOL) 😵😆

Warning: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language - reader discretion is advised.

Naughtiness ensues after the cut!

A Time To Learn: Your Relationship With Victor:

A battle of wills and wits that gradually blossoms into a relationship founded on mutual trust and admiration, learning and growth

Your relationship with Victor isn't easy, especially at the beginning when you are learning about each other and how to mesh with one another — it will be a hard-won love, but one that’s absolutely worth the payoff in the end

Victor is very logical, pragmatic, stubborn, domineering and - especially at the beginning — overprotective (tends to withhold information from you if he feels it would hurt or harm you in any way).  While his intentions come from a good place, it will annoy you to no end to be sheltered like this

But as the relationship progresses and Victor comes to fully understand that you are a grown woman capable of holding her own and making her own decisions, he will gradually cease this type of behaviour  

Initially, it will be hard for you to know where you stand because of Victor's reluctance to let his poker face slip and reveal his emotions.  But when you finally see him crack a smile, or hear the soft chuckle of his deep laughter followed by a muted exclamation of “dummy” or “idiot,” you’ll feel like you’ve won the lottery, becoming addicted to doing whatever you can to see the corners of those lips tug up when he thinks no one is the wiser

When you first defy him, Victor is pleasantly surprised: he's used to getting his way personally and professionally because his overwhelming presence, business acumen and instinct usually lead him in the right directions, so he has rarely ever encountered opposition.  While he is initially taken aback by your bravado, he’ll find your attitude refreshing, amusing even.  His cock will too (more on this later) 😆

This is the type of relationship where one person fills in the gaps of the other: you'll soften Victor’s hard edges, temper the manner with which he interacts with others, and make him laugh harder than he ever thought possible.  You are the figurative sunshine in his life, the warmth he has been missing for so long.

On the other hand, Victor lends you his unflappable confidence, his expertise and experience, the will to stick to your guns and really fight for the things you want.  He is your safe haven, champion and protector.

Talk is cheap for Victor, who prefers to show love and affection by way of action: brewing medicinal soups when you’re sick (with a spoonful of caramel pudding at the ready to chase away the bitter aftertaste), tucking a cozy throw over you when you’ve fallen asleep on the sofa yet again, cooking your favourite foods when he knows you’ve had a rough day, waiting outside your office in the pouring rain to drive you home when he knows you’ve forgotten your umbrella

He also loves to high-key spoil you: whisk you away on his private jet for spontaneous weekend getaways at Lake Como or Bali, beautiful bouquets arranged on your desk Monday mornings at the office just because, an impromptu Champs-Élysées shopping excursion when you mention needing a new winter coat…THAT BLACK CARD THOOOO

Victor is a steadfast lover: reliable, responsible and always, always there when you need him.  He is your rock, a solid foundation from which you are emboldened to jump and reach for the stars…forever knowing he will be there to catch you if you fall

He often anticipates your needs, sometimes even before you realize them.  And as your relationship progresses, the ways in which he offers help will become less overbearing and more sensitive to your feelings and your right to make an informed decision

Victor is most expressive in the bedroom.  For all his emotional reservedness in his everyday life, the passionate nature he keeps buried deep inside is finally given an outlet through sensual pleasures

As with everything else in his life, lovemaking is serious business for Victor.  He is an intense lover who wants to be the very best, the one to erase even the tiniest shreds of whoever came before him.  He needs to leave his mark on you, physically and emotionally.  Even if he wasn’t your first, he’d be damned if he’s not your last.

Ever the epicurean, Victor is the pussy-eating champion.  Thoroughly devoted to exploring you orally, the man would go for hours if you’d let him, taking care not to miss a single inch of trembling flesh.  Obsessed with numbers, Victor is not satisfied to move on to something else until he’s given you multiple orgasms with his tongue alone.

The man is humming(!) in pleasure as he eats: lips, chin and cheeks shiny with your arousal and his spit.  This will be the only time you see Victor with less than impeccable table manners

Victor considers it a point of pride and responsibility to bring you to your climax well before he reaches his own

The man also loves to see you in elegant silks, satins and lace and will surprise you with the most beautiful lingerie

In all honesty though, garter belts, stockings, stilettos and nothing else are this man's jam when he really gets down to business

Needless to say, Victor’s super fit and muscular physique translates to stamina for days...

The First Kiss:

Having spent an exhausting day ironing out the minute details of your proposal with Victor, you slump onto the leather sofa in the corner of his office, meaning to take a 5 minute power nap to recharge while Victor leaves the room for a bathroom break

“The man is a machine…” you think to yourself, stealing a quick glance at your phone before the weight of heavy eyelids finally shepherds you to slumber: 9:15 pm

You are out cold.  Dead to the world.  You don't even hear the click of the door as it opens, or the soft approach of polished Oxfords when Victor quietly crouches to bring his face level with yours, gazing at your sleeping form, undisguised tenderness completely transforming that stoic visage

Victor is smiling, one large hand curling into a loose fist before it rises to cover his mouth — the side of his index smoothing over his cupid’s bow in an unconscious bid to satisfy the desire for physical contact

Jet black eyes sweep from disheveled hair to the delicate silver chain around your neck, pupils widening as they trace the line of your collarbone upon which the sapphire pendant lay

Then…slowly….as if caught in the pull of some hypnotic tide, Victor moves even closer, Adam’s apple prominent in his throat as he swallows.  Paying no heed to the heat gathering beneath an increasingly tight collar, the man continues studying your face, intent on mapping every smooth contour onto his mind for posterity

It is only when he feels the warmth of your breath on his cheek that he stops, breaking out of his trance and mentally chastising himself for almost losing control.  For losing himself in the sight of your soft lips parted in slumber

Just when he makes to stand and cover you with his suit jacket, your eyes fly open to lock onto his

Time stops.  Lost in the intensity of the gaze, neither of you dare to even breathe, let alone speak, lest the sanctity of the moment is broken

The sheer proximity of Victor Li has you captivated: cedar wood and pine wafting subtle from burning skin, long lashes softening dark eyes that blazed with hunger, lips that trembled ever so slightly with longing until you couldn’t help but become famished for just one taste…

And before you can even make sense of what you’re doing, you've propped yourself up on one elbow, bridging the gap between your lips and his — plush, soft and slightly parted

Victor’s eyes widen for a moment, a thousand different emotions silently brewing inside that busy mind until the slide of your tongue into his mouth blankets the chaos with a quiet calm.  Only then does the LFG CEO yield completely to the warmth of your lips and the fire in his soul, eyes closed as he finally allows his body to take what it wants, what it has yearned for since the day you challenged him

And when he gets to this point, Victor's kiss deepens, becoming more and more aggressive until you’re forced to pull back for a bit of air before diving in for a second round

Confession Of Love:

This man is not the type to throw the word “love” around lightly, so when he tells you he loves you, he MEANS IT.  It’s not lust.  It’s not like.  It’s a Ride or Die type of commitment.

Victor Li leaves very little to chance.  The first time he tells you he loves you, he will have planned it…WAY in advance

The man knows timing is everything (haha!) and will choose the very special occasion of your birthday to make his confession

He rearranges his work schedule (and yours) for the special day, flying you out to Paris on his private jet

At exactly 1:14 pm, he’ll present you with your gift at the very top of the Eiffel Towel: a ladies’ version of the Patek Philippe timepiece he himself wears

The back will be engraved with both your initials and the numbers 1-3-1-4.  You'll start shaking the moment you see it.

1:14 pm, 13:14, 1-3-1-4: all essentially meaning "forever" when pronounced in Chinese

Honestly, it will feel like a proposal and in a sense, it is: once Victor is absolutely certain about someone, he will never let them go.  His love is for life.

You are absolutely speechless, hands trembling so hard that Victor has to hold them steady before he slips the watch onto your wrist

Then, after taking a moment to savour the sweetness of having a shared token of love, Victor bends to place a kiss on the back of your hand, the most tender look in his eyes when he finally looks up to say, “I love you.  Happy birthday.”

Doesn’t that sound much nicer than "dummy"?! 😆

The First Night

Despite all the impossible deadlines Victor sets for you in the course of your professional collaborations, the man is incredibly patient when it comes to matters of the heart

Until Victor tells you he loves you, he will not have sex with you (much to your horny chagrin)

This is actually specific to you and not his personal code of conduct per se.  In the past, the man has had no problems bedding women he’s had, at most, lukewarm feelings for

But YOU are a totally different breed, worlds apart from the starlets and socialites that threw themselves at his feet

Victor is fascinated by your honesty: the frankness of your words, your artless behaviour.  Mesmerized by the fact that he can read you like an open book (which is why he is so keen on protecting you from those who would use that to their advantage).  Touched by the genuine kindness and consideration that guides much of what you do.  Impressed by your tireless spirit in fighting for the people and things you care about

In short, he has never met another person quite like you, especially in the cut-throat world of business and high society where he has learned to excel — a place where poker-faced people keeping their cards close to their chests are the norm and not the exception

Holding out on sex is as painful and torturous to Victor as it likely is to you; the man is incredibly attracted to you, and has been since the day you dared to challenge him to secure funding for your company.  Deep down, Victor knows you had him ensnared the moment he saw the fire burning in your eyes (not like he’d ever tell you though LOL)

And each time work brought you before him, the man couldn’t help but notice something new to admire: the way your hair fell in soft wisps — begging to be gently tucked behind the shell of your ear, the captivating flutter of lashes as tired eyes blinked back fatigue, the pleasing lilt of your voice even as you laced your words with sarcasm

It wasn’t long before Victor found his thoughts drifting to you, haunting his nights and sneaking up on him during the day…especially when he was in the shower, eyes closed and moans amplified in the wet heat as his large hand reached down to stroke the length of his cock — imagining your legs wrapped around his waist, your tongue nimble on his shaft

In spite of all this pent-up tension, Victor doesn't rush into sex because he wants things to be done right.  You are the most important person in his life and he feels the need to eliminate any possibility of things going wrong

In short, he won’t treat you like the women who came before because there’s absolutely no comparison: no one has ever made him feel the way you do

That being said, it doesn’t mean you and Victor won't get up to some extreme heavy-petting: grinding on his lap in his Bugatti, palming him through his dress pants at the office, a hand slipped beneath your skirt when you’re bent over wiping kitchen counters at Souvenir as payment for your meal  

So when Victor gives you the ultimate birthday gift of finally telling you he loves you, the two of you are hightailing it back to your penthouse suite at the grandest hotel in Paris, bodies already flush against each other and kissing as the French do in the privacy of an ascending elevator

BUT Victor is the king of deliciously unhurried love making.  It is his preferred modus operandi.  After all, the man really knows how to enjoy the finer things in life: food, wine, your body and every single reaction of bliss that can be teased out of it.

You can bet that Victor will fuck you nice and slow and thoroughly.

PREPARE TO BE PAMPERED LIKE A QUEEN

Strains of Duke Ellington & John Coltrane's “In a Sentimental Mood” are being piped through built-in speakers as Victor approaches you from behind, notes of pine and cedar accompanying the heat of his body, wafting in gentle waves to make the fine hairs of your skin stand on anticipatory end

And as you watch the sun kiss the horizon through a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows — orange rays setting the Eiffel Tower ablaze in a sea of luminous fire — fingertips are trailing up your bare arms, Victor gently gathering your hair to sweep it over one shoulder before pressing his lips to the nape of your neck, eyes closed and inhaling deep, trying to hold on to the subtle sweetness of your skin

His hands, incredibly dextrous despite their size, easily tease apart the knot of your halter dress and you tremble under the intensity of his gaze over your shoulder as they watch satin trace every curve  — your dress dropping to pool on cool marble at your feet

There is something especially exquisite about seeing the City of Light laid out before you as you’re slowly laid bare by Victor.  And just when you start to blush at standing stark naked before the fully clothed CEO, he places your hands on his chest, seductive command permeating that deep voice when he says, “Undress me.”

Sliding your palms over the broad expanse of his pecs, you palpate the rhythm of his heart, caress the lines of hard muscle beneath that perfectly starched dress shirt  

By the time your fingers are unbuttoning his collar, his Adam's apple is already bobbing in his throat, the deep breaths he’s drawing to rein in desire amplifying the rise and fall of his chest

When the last button is undone, the sight of Victor’s gloriously perfect torso erodes the last of your frayed patience and you’re practically tearing the shirt off his muscular arms, wrestling with his belt.  And although you are dying inside from your lack of finesse, Victor is secretly thrilled that you want him that badly.  Full marks 😆

Finally….finally….that beautiful body is revealed in all its glory: sculpted from innumerable laps in his olympic sized pool and so genetically blessed below the belt that your mouth is watering at the sight

BUT FIRST, a bath!  Blue balls be damned, Victor Li will enjoy this moment to its fullest.  He knows that a slow seduction can build up to the most explosive sex.  Clearly.

The man will absolutely insist on bathing you, don't even try to fight it.  He gets an acute sense of satisfaction from taking care of you in every sense of the word.  Also, there’s nothing quite like the slippery slide of his hands all over your body

Step into the marble infinity tub and lay back against his broad chest.  Soak in the warm waters as you take in the view of the city around you, the peony-scented candles, the white-petaled orchids…all meticulously planned by the man soaping you from behind, gentle hands exploring

Lose yourself in his touch: fingertips trailing after bubbles that glide over the swell of your breasts, large hands submerging to wrap around your waist until they cross at the navel, moving down to rub languid circles between your legs until you tremble — Victor’s lips finding yours when your head falls back against his shoulder in bliss

And when you reach behind to feel him - long, hot and hard  - his soft groans will drive you to the precipice of madness until you’ve got him sitting on the edge of the tub: face a mask of ecstasy to feel your lips on him, your greedy mouth never seeming to get enough of his delicious flesh

Best believe that Victor almost has a heart attack when you let him slip from your mouth when he begins to twitch, observing him with innocence in your eyes as you pump him to completion, teasing the tip of his cock with your hardened nipples while he coats your chest in his release

The man is DONE when you finally look down at your breasts as if surprised, gathering up his cum with the tip of your index and bringing it to your lips for a taste, coy smile blooming all the while on your face

Jaw tightens.  Cock hardens.  And suddenly the world around you slows to a stand-still as you’re lifted so quickly you barely have time to think before his hands are coaxing your legs around his trim waist, your body wet and slippery against Victor’s as he carries you to the bedroom

Laying you upon the king-sized bed, Victor’s lips seek the heat between your thighs — lapping fast, tasting slow, drawing out slick pleasure to coat his tongue and wrench his name from somewhere deep in your throat

Nothing gets Victor Li hotter, faster, than the sound of your voice, desperate and needy for him.  The man is addicted to it.  You can bet he won’t be emerging from between your legs until his cheeks and chin are so shiny it’s obscene, and you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve convulsed against his fingers and tongue, orgasms bleeding one into the other like sweetly turbulent waves

And when he finally rises — your flavour faint on his tongue as his lips find yours — he’ll swallow your moans as he finally pushes into you: gradual, gentle, savouring every searing twitch of muscle adjusting to the welcome intrusion of his long, thick heat

Hips moving fast, swaying slow…pelvis grinding in circles to hit your clit because he can’t get enough of the way you shudder against him, or the sting of your teeth sinking into the flesh of his shoulders (mark him up, Victor LOVES it)

EDGING: Victor will hit that spot with expert precision over and over again till you’re on the verge of exploding…only to pull away, rhythm slowing to a grind to leave you hyperventilating and dizzy with need as this torturous pattern repeats

When he finally lets you (and himself) come, you are a sweaty, screaming mess, nails scratching to leave crimson welts on Victor’s back that will make the man smile to see in the mirror the following morning

Victor likes to remain buried deep within you for a bit after his release, holding you in his arms as he peppers you with kisses: on your lips, cheeks, forehead and eyelids

Afterwards, you can bet that the CEO will have a full spread delivered to the suite, where the two of you will spend the rest of the evening feeding each other in bed in between rounds of passionate lovemaking.  Remember?  Victor has stamina for DAAAAAYYYYYSSS and has to make up for lost time 😂

⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱

Thanks so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

Sweet tooth

Architect Mark X Baker reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Genre: Extremely cheesy fluff

Summary: As soon as you graduated from culinary school, you wanted to follow your dream in opening your own bakery but you had no idea where to start. Your professor recommends an architect to help you make your dreams a reality but little did you know, you’d be falling in love with said architect the longer he helped you out on the project.

A/N: Hi guys! I have a few more requests in my inbox and I just wanted to let you all know that I didn’t forget about you it’s just that my mom has been sick so I’ve been taking care of her and all the house duties so I haven’t had much free time to write stories but here is the architect Mark anon! I hope you enjoy! In all honesty, I feel like this was rushed and it’s one of the stories I’ve written that I care about the least because I feel that it’s all over the place but it’s fine lol

Opening your own bakery has been a dream of yours for as long as you could remember. You’ve been baking all sorts of cakes, pies, cookies, breads and pastries since you were seven years old. Whenever you’d visit your grandparent’s house during the summertime, your grandmother would always take you to the bakery down the road for a little treat. 

The sweet aroma of the different jams they used along with the smell of yeast and baked bread would immediately fill your nose as soon as you walked in and you were always excited to see all the different types of desserts out on display. Right after your grandmother would finish paying for your choice of confection, she would bring you towards the window where you’d be able to watch the bakers preparing and making all of the delicious treats. 

As you got older, your love for baking only increased. You’d make all sorts of treats in your downtime causing your mom to freak out by the mess you would leave once you were done mixing all your ingredients together. You went straight in to culinary school right after graduating from high school and even took on a part time job at the bakery a few blocks down from your house. On the days that you weren’t at work or school, you would be in the kitchen coming up with and testing out many different recipes that you would plan to sell at your own bakery one day. Whenever, you did go to work, the day always seemed to go by very quickly. Time seems to fly by very quickly when you’re having fun and you always seemed to have a good time when you were in your element. 

Because you were very passionate and dedicated to your craft and couldn’t wait to graduate in order to start up your own business, you began taking on more classes and cutting back on hours at the bakery in order to graduate sooner. There were nights where you cried over how frustrating school could be and you got so stressed out to the point where your pastries weren’t coming out the way you wanted them to. However, you had a dream and you were determined to achieve your goals in the timeline that you set up for yourself. 

Only three years after you entered college, you graduated culinary school with your bachelor’s degree and you couldn’t be more excited to finally start working on your project. Unfortunately, you didn’t know where to start. You were so focused on the baking aspect that you failed to come up with where you’d want your bakery located, how big you wanted it to be and who you needed to hire in order to help you set up your space. Hell, you still had yet to find other bakers and cashiers to help you manage the shop and you soon grew discouraged at the thought of how much time and effort you had to put in to starting up your bakery. 

It took you a couple of months to put a plan together before you actually got to make your dreams a reality, but you wanted to make sure you had your ideas written down on paper before reaching out to people for their help. One of your culinary professors was kind enough to refer you to one of her friend’s son’s construction company to help you plan out the building of your bakery. After she sent you his contact information, you decided to do some research on the architect before contacting him to make sure he was the right candidate to help build the bakery you’ve always dreamt of. 

When you pulled up his website and saw all the great reviews and how people practically raved over what an amazing company he owned and how great the projects would turn out, you found yourself dialing his phone number and inquiring about how much it would cost and how long it would take to build your bakery. You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was by the many photos that showed up under his name. He had a long, skinny face with curly brown hair, the prettiest smile and the cutest little dimples. People like that worked in construction? You knew you should’ve listened to your father when he told you to become a mechanical engineer. 

You were nervous to say the least about consulting with him. It was obvious that he’s been doing this for years. He’s designed skyscrapers, buildings, condominiums, mansions and town houses. His line of work went beyond that of your tiny little bakery, but it didn’t hurt to see if he’d be willing to design your cute little shop. He was very soft spoken over the phone and offered to meet you at a coffee shop later in the afternoon if you were free. Since you were so adamant on wanting to open your bakery within the next year and a half, you found yourself quickly agreeing in excitement.

 As you drove over to the coffee shop you agreed to meet him at, you couldn’t help the smile that rose on your face at the idea of things finally coming together for you. Sure, there was still a lot for you to do and so many people you still had to contact, but this was the most important thing you had to get done. When you walked in to the cafe and spotted him in the corner by the bookshelf, you began to approach him and the smile he sent in your direction made your heart flutter. 

“Hey! You must be y/n. Nice to meet you. Can I get you something to drink before we get started?” 

You looked at him in curiosity before politely shaking your head in disagreement. “I should be the one offering to buy you something! You’re doing me a favor. Thank you for coming to meet with me by the way. It’s like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders.” He giggled slightly and pulled out a notepad. After the two of you put in your drink orders and playfully argued about who was going to pay, you headed back to the table and he started to ask you a few questions about the location and size of the bakery that you had in mind. 

Once you gave him all the information, he began to draw out an idea of what he felt you would like and you were excited to see your plans coming out on paper. As you watched him draw out his ideas, you were quick to notice how focused he was and how much detail he put in to his work. It was extremely admirable.

“I’m sorry if this project is nothing compared to all of the amazing work that you’ve done so far but—“ He looked at you with the most adorable pout on his face and you were sure your heart was going to combust at the sight. 

“Don’t be silly y/n! I love every single project that I get to work on. Honestly, this is the first time I’m working on building a bakery, so I’m very excited to see how it’ll turn out. With the way you told me about how passionate you are about baking and how you’ve been wanting to open your own bakery for a while now, this is definitely not nothing.” 

He sent you a toothy grin and returned back to his sketching. Throughout your time together, the two of you conversed about many different things. You were surprised to hear that he had no plans of getting in to construction and architecture and that he actually had plans of becoming a pilot. However, when he took art in his freshman year, it was his professor that told him to look in to becoming an architect. The way his eyes would light up when he went in to detail about how he’s always loved to draw and do all kinds of sketches made you feel warm inside. 

He reminded you of yourself. Just like you, he’s loved drawing, painting and sketching from the time he was young but he never thought he could use his talent in the real world; so he pushed the idea of becoming a professional artist or having a job that had anything to do with drawing in general to the back of his mind. Hearing about how it took him a couple of years to set up his company worried you; you didn’t think it would take that long to open up your bakery but he assured you when he saw the glum look on your face that it was a different situation. 

“I had to make sure I was hiring the right people, that they all had insurance, I had to find a place to set up my company—there was a lot I had to do to make sure my employees were covered and then I had to make contracts with the state. I needed more than just other architects. I had to hire construction workers, estimators, carpenters, project engineers, electricians and so many other types of workers. That’s why it took a while. But planning, setting up and building your bakery won’t take too long. I’d say three months tops. I’m actually stoked to see how it’ll turn out and I can’t wait for it to open. I’ll bring this in to work with me tomorrow and we’ll get started on your shop as soon as possible. It was nice meeting you y/n, I had a great time. I’ll stay in contact with you and try to update you on what we’re doing so there’s nothing to worry your pretty little head about okay? You can trust me. I hope to see you again soon.” 

Once he left the coffee shop, you took a few minutes to process your entire meeting with him. He was nothing short of a gentleman. He always made eye contact with you whenever you talked to him, he was very attentive, threw in a few jokes in order to make sure you were comfortable and always asked for your opinion to make sure you agreed with everything he was doing. He had called you that following Monday to give you a rough estimate of how much everything would cost and to let you know how long it would take to build. 

You found yourself developing a small little crush on the architect in the short amount of time that you’ve known him for, but how could you not? He was extremely patient with you, curious about your likes and dislikes, very passionate about his work, determined, soft spoken yet easy to converse with and he seemed like a very genuine person. Over the course of a few months, he kept his promise of keeping you updated on the progress of your bakery. He also invited you a few times to watch it actually getting built and to your surprise, he had a helmet customized specifically for you. 

There were days that he would call you just to see how you were doing and how everything was going with the other responsibilities that came with opening a bakery. You couldn’t help but feel as if there was more to his calls and supportive little text messages and you were sure architects never were this involved with their clients but you didn’t mind. You loved talking to and spending as much time with Mark that you possibly could. 

Finally, the day came where his company were finished with building your bakery and to say you were happy with how it came out was an understatement. It was everything you could have wanted and more. The kitchen was huge and Mark had explained to you that it was because he wanted you and your employees to have enough space to move around without having to worry about getting in each other’s way. There was an office, storage room, freezer and bathroom. He even made a closet and an area for your employees to place their belongings. Even the store front was spacious. It was perfect. You never once doubted that Mark would do an amazing job, but seeing the final product made you speechless. 

“So, how do you like it?” Absentmindedly, you jumped in to his arms and buried your face in to his neck. 

“It’s perfect! I love it so much. Thank you Mark! You’re amazing.” He smiled lightly against your cheek and held you closer to his embrace. When you came to the realization that you were holding him, no matter how much you loved the feeling of being wrapped in his arms, you found yourself pulling away and apologizing in embarrassment. 

“I’m glad you enjoy it. I wanted to make sure it turned out the way you wanted it to.” He would never admit it to you, but there were nights where he stayed up till the wee hours of the morning in order to put together teams with some of his best workers to help out with building your bakery and to pull some strings with the owner of the land that you wanted to have your bakery located at. 

At first, Mark had a hard time understanding why he was going above and beyond to make sure your bakery turned out the way you’ve dreamt it to. Out of all the many projects he’s worked on so far, your bakery was the one he actually helped work on the most. He went to the construction site almost every single day to make sure it was coming out perfectly. It took him a while to realize it, but when he would hear the excitement in your voice and saw the breathtaking smile rise on your face whenever he would inform you about how your bakery was coming along, he knew he had more than just friendly feelings for you.

There were times where he’d sit in his office and work on other projects, but his mind would always wander off to you. Your bright and positive personality send a warm feeling to Mark’s chest and he couldn’t help but want to act on his feelings for you. When you came to the realization that you would no longer need to stay in contact with Mark anymore, you were upset to say the least but there was nothing you could do about it. 

“Did you need help with bringing in the appliances and setting up the plumbing?” The idea of getting to have Mark in your life for just a little longer caused you to scream internally and the word yes was on the tip of your tongue, but the realist in you gave him a sad smile. 

“You’ve already done so much for me so far, I don’t want to continue being a burden and I’m sure you have more important things to work on—“ he gave you a knowing look and interrupted you before you could continue to feel bad over the thought of everything he’s already done to support you and your bakery. 

“Nonsense y/n, I want to help you. Plus, I have some connections that could really help with making this the best bakery ever.” 

You giggled softly. “No matter how beautiful you end up making this place, I doubt it’ll be that popular. I’m sure there are many more bakeries out there that are way more popular with better products. I’m not all that special.” 

The gentle squeeze on your wrist pulled you out of your self pity and before you knew it, you were being pulled against his chest. “Stop that. Stop thinking that you’re anything less than all that you are. You are extremely special y/n. I’ve never seen someone so passionate and so in love with their job as much as you clearly are. This bakery is everything you’ve wanted and more and no matter what you think, it’s going to be the best bakery in town. I don’t care if I have to dress up as a croissant and pass out fliers to people in order to get business booming, I’ll do whatever I can to make sure this bakery becomes successful.” 

You were sure that if Mark were to look at you, you’d be as red as a tomato. His words sent fire to your bones. When you felt him wrap his arms around your waist, you looked up at him and gave him a small smile. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you for all that you’ve done to me. Thank you so much Mark.” 

With the way you were looking up at him with so much gratitude in your eyes, Mark wanted to close the space between your lips and release all the feelings he had developed for you through a kiss. Before he could do anything he’d regret, he placed his chin on the top of your head to prevent him from connecting his lips with yours. God knows that if Mark were to stare at your pretty pink lips any longer, he wouldn’t be able to control himself and his desire to feel your lips against his. 

“You don’t owe me anything. All I want for you to do is to have faith in yourself. Be more confident. Don’t you ever doubt yourself or say anything negative about yourself anymore okay? Make me proud y/n.” 

Once you got everything settled with the bank, insurance company, plumbing company and kitchen appliance company, you began to work on furnishing your bakery. Mark would head straight to your bakery once he finished work in order to help you set things up against your pleas that he’d go home and rest. You didn’t want to be a burden on him and you were sure he was probably exhausted from work; but you weren’t going to lie and say you didn’t enjoy his presence. 

Knowing that he wanted to continue to help you out although his part of the project was already over with made your heart happy. You wanted to believe it was because just like you, he enjoyed spending time with and being around you. However, you would mentally scold yourself for thinking like that and making up scenarios in your head of the two of you starting up a relationship together. In the moments that he came and helped you move your furniture, went with you shopping for necessities, ingredients, decorations, uniforms and everything else that you were in need of, your feelings for him only grew stronger. 

When you were back at the bakery, he would play some music on his phone and the two of you would dance and sing along as you worked on getting everything set up and making sure all areas of your bakery were ready for opening. There were times that you caught him looking at you and other times that he would “accidentally” touch your waist and lower back if he tried to pass behind you. No matter how long you’d spend with him, you’d always miss him whenever he would leave. Sometimes, you would order food for the both of you as an excuse to extend your time together. Mark was someone who you loved being around. 

The constant support he gave you along with the many compliments about your talent and sometimes even your looks never failed to make your heart flutter. You could only wish there was a reason he would stay in your life once this was all over. Finally the opening a day came and you were overwhelmed with so many emotions. Sure, you were excited. Your dream was finally coming true. But the doubts and worries of nobody showing up wouldn’t leave your mind at all for the few days leading up to today. Unfortunately, Mark had let you know that he wasn’t going to be able to make it because he had a few meetings he had to attend to and the news made you even more upset than you already were. Mark had practically set this entire place up. He was the reason everything came together just the way you wanted it to so it was only natural for you to want him in attendance. Plus, knowing he was there would help you relax and the thought of him would block out any other negative thoughts that were currently bringing you down. However, his cute little supportive text messages did make you calm down a bit but your heart rate fluttered at his sweet words. 

“Hey boss, you’re gonna want to take a look at this.” One of your pastry chefs motioned for you to follow her outside and when you saw just how many people were waiting outside for you to open made tears brim at your eyes. Were they all really there for your opening? But how did they all hear about it? You paid to put an ad in a few newspapers but that was pretty much it. You didn’t think it would bring in at least two hundred people right outside your storefront but you were extremely over the moon. 

“Hi guys! Thank you so much for coming today. It genuinely means everything to me. I’ve been dreaming about this day since I was a little girl and I’m so excited to have you all try my pastries. The cake fairy is finally open for business!” 

Hearing the crowd cheer as you cut open the rope and allowed people to come in made your heart race. It took you a while to finally take everything in and to come to the realization that all these people were here for your desserts. For recipes that you came up with years ago in school when you were actually supposed to be studying for finals. Nobody other than your family and friends have tried your treats, so this was the first time anyone else was going to be tasting it and your heart felt like it was going to bust out of your chest. When you saw the first few customers take bites out of your pastries and saw the smiles on their faces while they murdered just how good it was, you released a breath of relief. 

The day went by extremely quick but that’s because you had so much to do. You had to help take orders and serve people while running to the back and helping out with baking. You were afraid of running out of things to sell but you and your team tried your best to make sure that everybody got what they wanted. Some customers asked to talk to you personally and wouldn’t stop raving over your desserts and congratulating you on your success. It was such a heartwarming feeling seeing all your hard work and passion come together. 

After such a successful work day, you thanked all of your employees for their hard work and sent them home with some pastries while you stayed back to clean everything and to take a few minutes to yourself. As you began to wipe down the countertops, you heard a soft knock at the door and at first, you were alarmed seeing as how it was nearing 10 p.m. but when you saw your favorite smile peeking at you through the glass, you immediately dropped what you were doing and ran to the door. 

“Hi there my favorite little puff pastry! How was it? I heard the line went on for hours. I’m really sorry I couldn’t be here to see it.” He handed you a bouquet of sunflowers and a teddy bear dressed up as a chef. The reason why Mark wasn’t there for your opening was because he had a few tricks up his sleeve. You weren’t able to see the billboards he set up throughout your city, nor did you have the time to watch tv and see your ad being played every other commercial. He meant it when he said he was going to do whatever he could to help you succeed and it was mainly because he loved seeing that contagious smile of yours when things went your way. 

“It’s fine Mark. I understand, but thank you for being here right now and thank you for these gifts. I’m more at ease now that you’re here. Today was perfect. There were so many people and everyone seemed to really enjoy my desserts. I’m still having a hard time processing that all those people were here for my treats. It’s such an indescribable feeling and I couldn’t have done any of this without you so thank you.” With the way he was looking at you as if you were the one who set all the stars up in the sky, you felt as if you would melt in to a puddle right there. 

“Don’t mention it. Honestly, you could sell your cakes in a grungy and disgusting bathroom and people will still come. I’m sure they taste just as amazing as they look.” You asked him to follow you in to the kitchen while you brought out the cake you prepared for him the night before as a small thank you for everything that he’s done for you. It wasn’t anything too over the top; just a two tiered chocolate cake with a peanut butter cream cheese filling and the words thank you next to some sketches and a construction hat. The smile that rose on his face made your cheeks warm and you couldn’t help but mirror it back to him. 

“Wow y/n, this cake looks amazing. You’re really talented. I can’t believe I’m the first one to receive a cake made by the renowned baker y/n y/l/n. Don’t forget me when you become famous okay?” You playfully rolled your eyes as you brought out a couple other desserts and placed it on a plate for him. 

“These were the best sellers of today. Tell me what you think.” He began to take a bite out of everything and for some reason, you found yourself getting nervous at what he would think. Mark’s opinion meant the most to you. You were afraid that he wouldn’t think all too highly of your creations but when you saw him practically vacuum your strawberry shortcake, you had to stifle back a laugh. 

“I’m sorry, I must look so messy but this is so good. Damn y/n, I’m gonna need about two dozen of these to go. I’m going to eat one at every meal for the rest of this week. I’m not even kidding this is delicious—“ you couldn’t help but bring your thumb up to the corner of his lip in order to wipe away some left over strawberry cream. He looked adorable and hearing him say such nice things about your strawberry shortcake made you grin like an idiot. You weren’t able to notice the way he looked at you while gliding your finger against his mouth, so you had no idea that Mark was practically near his breaking point. 

Before you could do or say anything else, his lips were on yours. It was a breathtaking feeling, literally. His lips were soft against yours and he brought both his hands up to your cheeks, cupping it all but gently while continuing to kiss you like his life depended on it. The way he was kissing you with so much passion and fervor made your head spin. He brought his hands down to your waist and hoisted you up on to the counter top but his lips never once left yours. You tried your best to keep up with his quick pace but you were still in shock that this was all happening. 

Mark felt as if his body was in flames while you felt like you were consumed by the ocean. The two of you made out for a couple of minutes, not being able to get enough of one another and when you felt Mark moan in to the kiss, you knew things were getting hot and heavy. To Mark’s dismay, you pulled away in order to catch your breath but placed your forehead against his. He wrapped his arms around your hips as he left gentle kisses all around your face. 

“Wow. That was—you are—wow. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for quite some time now. I hope you know that there’s going to be a lot more from where that came from.” You beamed up at him and playfully booped his nose. 

“The feeling is mutual, trust me. I’ve had a crush on you since the day we met at the coffee shop. I haven’t been the same since you’ve came in to my life but I like it like that. You’ve brought in so much positivity in to my life and I’d like to think I’m more outgoing and confident because you make me want to be. I want to be someone you are proud of. Someone who has a good head on her shoulders. Someone whose good enough for you, Mr.Oh so successful and extremely dreamy architect that all kinds of people; business men, CEOs, entrepreneurs and other construction companies go crazy over. I can’t blame them though, I’m crazy for you too.” He picked up some frosting from one of the cupcakes you gave him and smeared it on your cheek earning himself an adorable whine. 

“All these desserts yet you’re the sweetest thing here—hey! Come back here y/n! You’re lucky I love you—oh.” Hearing those three words fall from his mouth sent you in to a frenzy and the two of you completely ignored the fact that Mark now had guava jelly on his dress shirt. 

“You what?” He brought his hand up to the back of his neck and scratched it out of embarrassment. 

“I said I love you. I’m sorry, was that too fast? I totally understand if you don’t feel the same just yet and it might be kind of early for me to say this—“ he was quick to smile in to the kiss once your lips connected with his as your attempt to get him to shut up. 

“I love you too. What do you say we get cleaned up here and head back to my place? You can be my taste tester for some new recipes I’ve been planning.”

He began to run his hands along your sides painstakingly slowly and it was obvious that he was trying to rile you up but you weren’t letting him mess with you that easily. “I have an even better idea. I can make us some dinner and then I can eat you for dessert.” He sucked on the juncture of your neck but frowned once he felt you pull away. “Babe! Come on, I bet you taste just as good as you look too!”

crisp trepidation

wrote this thinking of the song fine line by harry styles.

read on AO3

"Parrish." the voice said, "Parrish. Wake up."

Adam jolted awake by two hands who shook him slightly. Around him he could only see the dark, pitch black sky, shimmering with stars and constellations that came with the Virginian night, miles away from the cities. He noticed then he was still in a car, seat let back completely and a leather jacket covering his bare arms. He didn’t turn to look at the person who called him; he thought about closing his eyes, hoping what had just happened was all a nightmare.

Adam did not move. Instead, he kept looking at the stars. Altair, Deneb, Vega, Arcturus. He could name half of the sky.

The silence lingered, almost like it made noise to him. "Adam." The voice was softer. Adam turned his head ever so slightly to look up at Ronan Lynch, peering down into the open driver’s door. Blood and black stains still covered his skillfully sketched face, and traced dots and lines down his dark clothes. Like this, Adam could only see his eyes. "Come on." said Ronan, quietly, unlike himself, or, like entirely himself around people he trusted, "You can't sleep in the car." Adam sat up, and just then realized he wasn't at the parking lot of St. Agnes like he was expecting to be. No, Adam found himself staring at a family house, posted in the middle of nowhere, with barns at its outskirts. He sighed, visibly. He wanted to ask Ronan why he had brought him here, ask why he would come back here right after his mother had just passed. Ronan Lynch, he thought, full of surprises. Ronan tapped a finger once on top of the car, then lifted his posture to start walking inside, irritated to a bare minimum because Adam was clearly still out of it, "You staying there, shithead?" and so Adam got out of the car, hesitating. His limbs felt sore, and his eyes felt heavy, but sleep seemed like a million years away from catching up to him.

The Barns, just like Ronan, was not a place to play with. He didn't know what that meant exactly. He didn’t like the feeling it gave him; of belonging, trusting. Those concepts were foreign to him. He was his own home. His body, his mind, his relationships. Home wasn’t a place to Adam, because he had never had a physical home. He didn’t know how it felt.

He had a hunch it felt like this. They marched up the porch in unity. God, that porch. Just to think that merely days before that he was kissing Ronan Lynch to death, a metaphor he then thought was harmless. Now, that moment seemed as distant to Adam as being a child. It had felt like peace in his troubled routine, to be a normal teenager for a night; being able to kiss the boy he liked, to cuddle on the couch and trace fingers across his skin and exchange soft words in Latin until life caught up to Adam like it always it. He should have known it was too good to be true. Too good to last. A wind had blown by, he remembered. Adam had shivered against Ronan's pressed up body as they kissed. A small frown formed on Ronan's face when they parted, and Adam almost lifted his hand to touch were his eyebrows met in worry that he might be cold. He pulled Adam to him even more that he already was, and slipped his arms around his hips, touching the side of their faces together. That was when Ronan's hands traveled upwards, and caressed his arms in hopes of warming him. Adam pressed the side of his face to his collarbone, hands drawn up to their close chests, and sighed. "We should head inside." he had said against Ronan's skin.

He couldn't describe it, and that panicked him. Not knowing what it meant to be that warm, numb and to lose the use of his body completely when his fingers and Ronan's were tangled, being pulled to the couch, and before he could even process what had just happened, Ronan's lips were on his already.

He remembers smiling against them, not even trying to contain it. Happiness felt like a prize Adam wouldn't have expected to receive, and yet this made Adam realize how incredibly euphoric he had been in that moment. And that had been their second kiss. Now, a thing like that seemed impossible. They stepped inside, and just then it hit Adam, "Where's Orphan Girl?"

Adam's voice sounded surreal. It was too quiet, making his already cracked voice sound unbearably unfamiliar. Ronan was by the kitchen counter, walking towards the sink before he opened the tap, "Upstairs already." he said, "You to sleep for another ten minutes in the car. So I let her into Matthew’s room."

He put a hand on the wooden island, sitting down on one of those rich people high chairs, "Why didn’t you just wake me?"

Ronan closed the tap and reached for a piece cloth, turning so he could lean on the counter. He crossed his legs, shrugging.

Adam knew Ronan was either arranging for him to sleep somewhere, or just needed some time to think. Ronan was not good with words; Adam didn’t needed to remind himself of that detail. Adam looked at his nails, bloody, probably from Ronan. He felt physically so incapable of moving he would gladly sleep on that kitchen island and only wake up by sunrise. His eyebrows met, eyes still fixed down, "Can I, uh, shower?" Ronan let out a laugh. Adam looked up, "Knock yourself out." he said, almost like Adam was supposed to, even before he asked, "You can use Declan's." They didn't say anything else. ***

Adam debated wether he should just lay down and sleep or walk downstairs to talk to Ronan.

He exited Declan's bathroom, towel hanging from his hips and paced to the bed. Adam sat down thinking about how his best friend had died and come back, merely hours ago; he didn't know what to think right then. Gansey, he thought, I should be with Gansey. Don't cry, he told himself. Quickly, Adam put on the clothes he had been wearing before; blood-stained shirts and dirty jeans were not exactly new to him. He walked outside, and when he was about to turn the corner and trot down the stairs, he saw Ronan walking up, and stopped. "Where do you think you're going, Parrish?" Ronan frowned a bit, crossing his arms over his chest. Adam said, "I was going to look for you.” Ronan frowned, looking at Adam's body, trailing up and down, "Why are you still in those filthy fucking clothes?" Adam lifted his eyebrows, thinking, "Well, I didn't exactly have time to pack--"

"Wait here." said Ronan, and before Adam could protest, he had sprung past him and into his own room. A moment later, Ronan came back with a pair of grey sweatpants and a white tee.

He took Adam’s hands from his sides and placed them on his palm, "I forgot to put these in Declan's room." Adam inhaled. Something inside him was poking his stomach. He said nothing, he just stared at clothes.

It wasn't the fact that Ronan had thought of something sweet to do --Ronan was, and not surprisingly, someone who cared about others-- it was the thought that Ronan had done it for him. Something as simple and intimate as letting Adam borrow his clothes.

Adam forgot, just for a fraction of a second, what they had just gone through. Instead, he felt giddy with surprise and affection that Ronan was giving him his clothes to wear. He was also dumbfounded to be so emotional over old sweatpants and a plain white shirt. Ronan noticed. Of course he noticed, "Fine. You can sleep in dirt, for all I care." "Wait." Ronan was going to take back the items of clothing before Adam pressed them to his chest, "Sorry. I’m tired, I can't function properly." Ronan's jaw clenched, "Go to sleep, Parrish."

Adam barely nodded, and when Ronan turned to walk back to his room, a wave of panic struck through Adam's body, "Ronan?"

He stopped and looked back. Adam knew Ronan hadn't brought him to the Barns so he could sleep in Declan's room and leave early to work, but he also didn't know what he wanted that exact moment. Kiss me, he thought, do something. In all honesty, Adam felt drained of whatever love he had left in him. It wasn’t fuel to simply run out, he knew that, but he felt empty. Deprived. Lost. Shaken. And God, he just wanted affection, for once in his goddamned life. He inhaled, and realized his eyes were starting to water. He gazed down, trying to control it, but Ronan had already walked to him. He wiped his tears; Ronan was too close, and still did nothing.

Adam let out a watery, breathless short laugh, peeking a look at Ronan's hesitant state. He had never seen Adam cry. He hadn’t ever had to deal with it, so Adam spared him, “You don't have to ask my permission to touch me, you know that, right?"

Ronan's expression changed, defensive, "I know that, asshole." There he is, Adam thought. He nodded, trying to contain a small smile of amusement at Ronan having absolutely no clue on what to do. Ronan just then moved huffed a laugh as well, and left almost no space between him and Adam. And just like that, they weren’t smiling anymore.

Adam didn't dare break eye contact. He hadn't realized being this up close to Ronan would leave him suddenly breathless, lips parted, waiting. Ronan touched the side of his face, fingers grazing his jaw ever so lightly Adam couldn't stop it when his breath hitched at it. His thumb found a still wet spot on Adam's cheekbone and wiped it, before leaning down and touching his lips to Adam's.

It wasn't like their other ones. No, this one was lighter, softer, something Adam was waiting for since their first hurried kiss; Ronan’s unmasked gentleness. His hands were placed involuntarily on Ronan's sides, bringing them closer and deepening the kiss just merely.

Ronan shivered under his touch. It was something Adam found quite exquisite, his effect over him. Ronan’s body was shaking under his hands, making something hot speed through Adam's whole body. Ronan stopped kissing him for a second, and Adam thought he might've done something physically that implied the feeling. "What?" asked Adam, voice rushed, light and sweet. Adam's eyes seemed glued to Ronan's blue ones, "Nothing." he whispered, a smile almost slipping. He exhaled, and let his hands slowly travel down Adam's arms until he had reached his hand, taking them in his own. "C'mon, loser." Adam knew Ronan was trying his hardest to hide a smile. Ronan led them into his room, to his bed, and sat down. Adam stood between his legs, and rested his hands on Ronan's neck, looking down at him. And just like that, it hit him. As Adam's hands rested on Ronan's neck, just above his collarbone, he could feel how swollen it was, how the colors around his fingers didn't match Ronan's skin. Adam dropped his hands almost immediately, and avoided Ronan's eyes, his own glued to the monstrosity he knew was his doing.

"Hey." he said softly, taking one of Adam's hand in his own, trying to stop him from stepping away, "Adam?"

When he looked up to meet Ronan's eyes, he knew his own were displaying how horrified, petrified, he actually was. Ronan, though, only expressed worry. He inhaled, almost nervously, "Adam, no." "I did this-" "You didn't." cut Ronan, taking his other hand and guiding Adam a few steps forward, "You'd never hurt me." Adam shook his head, eyes still fixed at how bad Ronan's neck actually looked and thinking to himself how he did not notice that before, "Ronan, I-" "Hey." he said again, soft as ever, and if Adam wasn't melted by fear that exact moment, he'd be starstruck by it, "It's okay." Ronan lifted both of his hands, and Adam knew where they were going, "Adam. Look at me." He did. Ronan's eyes were as trustworthy as Adam had been to Cabeswater. Slowly, Ronan touched Adam's fingers to his bruised neck. He flinched, "Ronan." his voice broke visibly, "S-stop."

"It's okay." he gave Adam's fingers a light squeeze before setting them. Adam's breath hitched, "It's you. It's okay."

It took him a whole minute to do anything other than just lay them there. After that, one of them slipped to the back of Ronan's neck, and the other to his jaw, "I'm sorry." he whispered. He knew Ronan was looking at him, appreciating whatever he saw in Adam that made him worthy of appreciating. Adam kept his eyes fixed on his hands caressing his jaw, "Why didn't you stop me?" "It wasn't an option." he said, not hesitating, “A guy finally kissed me back, Parrish. If he wants to choke me then that’s fucking fine.”

Adam let out an un-calculated scoff. He silently thanked Ronan for trying to lighten the mood, “Asshole.”

Ronan smirked, "If the situation were to be inverted, you'd do the same.” Adam frowned at that, "God, no." he shook his head, playfully, "You'd kill me twice as fast. Have you seen your size compared to mine?" Ronan's tipped his head back to look up better at Adam when he took a step closer. Ronan face was a centimeter away from his chest now. He smiled up at him, playfully, “You calling me fat, Parrish?" He smiled back. At that, Ronan placed his hands on the small of Adam's back. Adam got the idea and straddled Ronan, unhurried and calmly, letting them both appreciate new grounds. “This is okay.” he said, when they touched their foreheads together, “Right?” Ronan had closed his eyes. He gave Adam’s the softest smile, “Yeah. It’s okay.” Adam kissed him. It started off the same as the last one, though Adam knew it was going to end completely different. Kissing Ronan Lynch was different from making a bargain with Cabeswater, or doing something as crazy as finding a dead Welsh king. No, kissing Ronan Lynch felt like he was playing a game of chess, in which there were no winners, and the only way out was to break the pieces. Adam did not ever want to commit such a crime. They kissed, and kissed and kissed. This or that, Ronan made it feel like it was the first time he'd ever done it. This once, Ronan starting kissing the outline of his lips, then his cheeks, and down his neck, and Adam couldn't help but feel so incredibly comfortable he slowly made Ronan trail back before he ground his hips down. Ronan displayed a type of surprise, though he was violently trying to fight against it. Adam kissed him again, and felt how breathless he already was, "Is this okay too?” Their noses were still touching, too close. Ronan held Adam's waist close, "God." he breathed, "Yeah, asshole. You don’t have to ask every time."

Adam didn't know what he was expecting, or what he wanted for that matter. All he knew was that kissing, straddling and grounding into Ronan like he was that instant felt too good to be true.

It was a medium to calm rhythm. Both of them were exhausted, drained, incapable of wanting more than just each others presence. After what felt like an eternity of panting, of feeling each other fully and completely aroused, pressing together and hearing Ronan’s muffled groans on his neck, both of them came. Clothed, warm, entwined.

They were breathless, panting slightly, mouths touching but not kissing. Adam laughed, just merely, contented and sated. Ronan placed a kiss to his cheek, and pulled him to lay down. He had a feeling they were going to ignore the mess in their boxers, and found he didn’t really care.

Now, sleep was a second away from catching up to him. They faced each other, knees and noses touching, Ronan’s hand traveling up and down his back. He was already trailing away when Ronan's deep voice broke silence, "I'm not sleeping." he said.

Adam wanted to protest, he really wanted to, but he knew how many times Ronan wanted to do that as well when Adam worked and studied himself to death, and still did not dare say a word. Adam had warned him too many times those were not subjects his friends had sayings in, and Ronan would avoid a fight with Adam any day of the week.

"Okay." he whispered back, touching the side of his face just once before letting his hand drop between them, "Wake me up if you need anything." Ronan nodded, patiently. When he realized Ronan wasn't going to say anything else, he exhaled before turning his back to him and turning off the lamps.

Before sleep took him, Adam had the faintest feeling that they were going to be all right.

Hey, I wanted to make a request? Slightly angsty Spongebob musical fic, with the SB/Pat/Sandy, set to Boy in the Bubble by Alec Benjamin. Thank you if you do!

I completely forgot i can answer asks oops so here!

“It was 6:48, I was walking home. Stepped through the gate and I’m all alone, I had chicken on the plate but the food was cold, then I covered up my face so that no one knows…”

Bobby had never really fit in with the people in his town. The other people thought he was too extroverted, too trusting. They seemed to love to tell Bobby that he was a boy in a bubble, that no one in the town was genuinely friends with him, that he ought to break out of his fantasy world. Bobby always brushed it off though, took the negative statements and pretended it didn’t affect him. He didn’t want pity from others. If everyone was using him, well...he likes helping people, so it isn't an issue anyhow. 

“How is this my fault?” Bobby wondered aloud to the dark air as he kicked the door shut behind him. He felt no need to cover up his face, no one was home, so no one would see. Padding to the kitchen, he digs out some ice cubes, placing them in a bag and holding it to his eye. As he slumps on the couch, he feels his cat Gary climb onto his lap. The tabby chirps at him, and Bobby nods his head, hugging Gary to him.

“Oh Gare-Bear,” the boy sighed, “How do I get myself into these situations time and time again?” The hand that wasn’t occupied with holding an ice-bag to his eye scratched the cat’s head. In response, Gary purred, and simultaneously meowed, as though responding to the boy. 

“I didn’t want trouble, I’m the boy in the bubble, but then came trouble…”

Bobby Porter does not get into fights. People see him as the consistently optimistic boy who is too naive. But his temper at times flares, and the one thing he will absolutely not stand for is people being rude to his friends. 

Of course, maybe approaching William Fitzgerald while he was surrounded by his posse of friends might not have been the smartest choice. But watching alongside Patrick and Sandy as his buddy Edward was basically publicly humiliated was not okay. Maybe the furthest thing from it, in all honesty. 

So Bobby did what he thought was right and marched forward. As he recalls Pat grabbing his arm in an effort to stop Bobby, the boy lifts his chin slightly, still adamant that his decision was right. 

"When my mom walked into the living room, she said, "Boy, you gotta tell me what they did to you," I said, "You don't wanna know the things I had to do" she said, "Son, you gotta tell me why you're black and blue…"

Bobby remembers the surprise that passed over Williams' face before he disguised it with disdain. 

"You need to leave Edward alone now." He had said through gritted teeth. 

"Oh really? And why is that?" The pretentious musician replied, arching an eyebrow. 

With a brief glance at Eddy, Bobby felt his anger strengthen. A crowd had begun forming, and he wasn't sure where Pat and Sandy were at that moment. "Because Edward is by far the most talented person ever, more talented than your pretentious self could ever be." Bobby spat the words out, and relished the surprise flitting on the taller guy's face. 

His satisfaction was short lived, however. The next thing Bobby remembers is the feeling of something hitting his eye and him falling backwards. A nervous hush fell over the crowd as they waited for Bobby to retaliate. 

"I said I didn't want trouble, I'm the boy in the bubble, but then came trouble…"

Bobby scrambled to his feet and threw a right hook at William. Logically speaking, Bobby knew that it likely was not William who punched him, but he knew this was the musicians fault. 

William stumbled back, cursing out Bobby as he clutched his cheek. 

"And my heart was pumping, chest was screaming, mind was running, air was freezing, put my hands up, put my hands up, I told this kid I'm ready for a fight…"

There's a knock at the door that startles Bobby out of his daze. Gary hops off his lap and trots to the door, sticking his head out the little cat door he had installed. 

He knew Patrick and Sandy were likely the ones outside. He also knew they didn't agree with how he'd handled things. But he picked himself off the chair and opened the door, and was surprised when he saw Edward there as well. So surprised, he accidentally lowered the bag of ice. 

Sandy winced and Pat looked away. Eddy looked down at his shoes, his clarinet case clutched in his hand. Flushing with embarrassment, Bobby steps aside and gestures for them to enter. "Bobby, Eddy here has got somethin' to tell ya." Sandy broke the silence, glancing at Eddy with a nod. 

Curious, Bobby leaned forward in his chair. Ed rolls his eyes and looks away "Thank you for standing up for me. And...I'm sorry about earlier." 

"Punch my face, do it 'cause I like the pain, every time you curse my name, I know you want the satisfaction, it's not gonna happen…"

After hitting William, Bobby saw another fist flying at him, and ducked out of the way, and directly into a different hand. This time, however, Bobby didn't fall back. Instead, before his attacker could pull his hand back all the way, Bobby had grabbed a hold of his wrist and managed to pin it behind the guys back. 

The idea of kicking this guy briefly fled through Bobby's head, but instead Bobby shoved the guy away, flinching when he touched his cheek and it came back slightly red. 

As Bobby went to retrieve his backpack he'd dropped, he heard Eddy mumble "I didn't ask you to do that." 

The shorter boy spun around, head slightly tilted to meet Eddy's gaze. "Eddy, how is it that this is my fault now? I stood up for you, I didn't see anyone else do that. I thought I did something good." Bobby stormed away after, entirely wrapped up in the overwhelming exhaustion and pain. 

"Knock me out, kick me when I'm on the ground…" 

Peering at Edward before slumping in his chair, Bobby shrugged. "It's not too big a deal, because I think it was the right thing to do." 

Mostly because Bobby couldn't see from his left eye, he didn't realize Patrick was kneeling at his side until he felt his best friend's hand gently tugging at the bag. 

Defenses instantly raised, Bobby pulled away. He felt guilty at the heartbroken way Pat looked. "I— Patrick, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it in any way, I just…" Bobby bit his lip and looked down. 

Bobby stood, and in a whisper, said "please, could you guys leave me alone for now?" He moved toward the door, intending to go on a walk, but Sandy appeared before him. So he backed away, only to bump into Pat. "Don't you get it lil' dude?" Sandy giggled. 

"You aren't going anywhere." Patrick finished for Sandy, and wrapped his arms around Bobby. 

Noticing Eddy trying to exit the scene, Sandy pulled him into the hug, trapping him in the embrace. 

"It's only gonna let you down, come the lightning and the thunder, you're the one who'll suffer, suffer…"

Content in knowing that his friends weren't mad at him, Bobby allowed himself to feel the swell of genuine love for his friends, and addition to the feelings he's already felt for Sandy and Pat. But that's for another time.  

In the end, he surmised, it doesn't really matter what anyone wants to tell me because these people mean the world to me. 

The Grand Tranquility Hotel (IV)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: An eccentric hotel owner and an inquisitive writer find solace in each other when they both seemed to be at the edge of rock bottom.

Notes: Continuous angst and drama, but I promise next chapter Alex will show some of his better side. Love you lots for the wonderful feedback!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

Chapter IV - Four Out Of Five

“Today is not just a day of celebration. It’s a day of gratitude. It’s a day where we realize our accomplishments were not only made by ourselves, but through the support of the people around us. When I built this hotel, I vowed to each of my guests that they would always have a room here, that they could place their trust in me. And in turn, I placed my trust in them. Without you, my guests, my friends, my family, I wouldn’t have been able to host this gathering. Because of you, this hotel got an exceptional rating that made not only our staff proud, but the entire country.”

There was a round of applause echoing through the large room, while a few local reporters took the moment to snap a few pictures. It quieted down again when Alex cleared his throat and raised his hand.

“I especially wanted to thank someone in particular. She is unfortunately no longer with us, but we will always remember her as one of our most esteemed guests who visited this hotel since it first opened. She’d written me a personal letter saying she had this wonderful young man who was very willing to come and work for me, who I now see as one of my most trusted employees. I am so grateful to have known her and am honoured to have her daughter remembering her amongst us tonight.”

He raised his glass, along with everyone else in the room, and held a toast to her mother’s name. All she could do was play along with a frown. Alex Turner was not the man she’d expected him to be. It all felt very forced.

“This hotel… It might hibernate from time to time, sink back into the swamp. I think the cyclical nature of the universe in which it exists demands that acquiesce to some of its rules. But we’re always waiting there, just around the corner, ready to make our way back through the sludge and smash through the glass ceiling, looking better than ever. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Have a nice night, cheers.”

The last part of his speech seemed oddly specific and she could tell it was a pointed remark. She just wasn’t sure who it was directed towards. Turner didn’t wait for the second round of applause to get off the stage, instead opting to immediately grab a flute of champagne from a tray one of the waiters was holding. “He can be so dramatic sometimes,” someone to her right chuckled.

Glancing over, her eyes found the face of a man she’d probably describe to have the most British face ever. Not unattractive in any way, his hair cut short and his hazel eyes locking hers in a warm and kind-hearted sort of embrace that made her feel immediately at ease. “You’re Miles Kane,” she blurted out. He smiled, “Correct. And you must be the ‘honoured’ guest I’ve been hearing so much about.”

“Only good things, I hope,” she said with a strained chuckle. “Only good things,” he winked. The corners of her mouth quirked up. She now understood why people chose him to be mayor, even if it was only because of his charisma. “I presume you already knew about the hotel review as well?” she continued curiously. He nodded, “They asked me to give a bit of a statement for the papers. Alex told me beforehand, though.” She hummed in interest, while her thoughts wandered back to that morning where she’d only then found out about the cause of the night’s celebration.

She’d casually strolled into the dining hall where most tables had either been removed or pushed against the walls of the room. At the back, the big stage had been cleared out and now only held a microphone and a few chairs. “You look happy today,” she commented, taking a seat at their usual spot. Matt looked up at her, silently sipping his coffee as he slid a newspaper towards her.

‘The Grand Tranquility Hotel was well reviewed; rated an exemplary four stars out of five. Mayor Kane states his joy, proclaiming “it’s unheard of.”’

She smiled, “That’s fantastic! Congratulations, Matthew.” Matt waved his hand bashfully at her. “So, that’s what the whole ‘gathering’ is about. Did you already know about all of this?” “I did,” he answered, “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, miss. Mister Turner was pretty set on keeping things private until everything was set to go.” “That’s quite alright,” she replied. However, deep down she knew the predominant reason why no one had told her, thinking back to the argument she’d had with the hotel owner just the night before. They didn’t trust her, no matter how kind they were being.

“Speaking of, how are the preparations getting along?” she wondered. Matt sighed and set his fork which was still piercing a heaping amount of eggs back down on his plate. “In all honesty, miss, there’s still so much that has to be done. Nick is out looking for more temporary personnel after some cancelled at the last minute, Jamie’s preparing everything in the kitchen and you already know what kind of chaos it’s like when he’s stressed and I’m just making a list of the things I still need to figure out before the gathering. We’re not used to doing this sort of thing with a limited amount of staff, so we’re all a bit disconcerted.”

She glanced down at the notepad he had been scribbling on. “Then allow me to help. I might not be an expert party planner, but half of the things you’ve mentioned on there I can manage.” Matt shook his head, but before he could protest, she shot him a strict look. “Look, I’m offering you my services here, like you offered yours. I won’t tell mister Turner a thing and if he does find out for some reason, I’ll just tell him I was helping a friend out.” He smiled at that. “Alright then,” he finally agreed, “But you’ll have to promise me Alex doesn’t notice anything.”

And with that, she spent the afternoon moving furniture, decorating, dusting, vacuuming, tidying and all the works. She’d even aided Jamie after he’d had a breakdown over accidentally burning the cake that was sitting in the smoking oven. Using one of her mother’s trusted recipes, she’d baked him a new one that had tiers, icing and everything while he continued working on the appetizers. It resulted in him spinning her around and giving her a big kiss on the cheek.

She glanced over where her creation now stood proud and tall on a pedestal. Well, proud and tall with heaping chunks missing from it. “Jamie really outdid himself this time,” Miles commented, taking a bite of the sponge on his plate, “This cake is the best I’ve ever had.” She didn’t argue with him, because she felt Jamie deserved more credit for his work. Even if it wasn’t exactly his.

Her eyes roamed over the assorted crowd. They were what she’d expected them to be; stereotypically ritzy and exuding money. She wondered if that’s why Matt, Nick and Jamie were so adamant on letting her know she was too kind to them, because all other folks they had to deal with were like these. They weren’t the type of people to have a normal chat. Oh no, these were the personas who whispered and were opinionated about everything. When you’re so filthy rich you only hang out with the wealthy who are as impeccable as you, all forms of judgement you’ve got left is directed nit-picking and slanderous gossip.

She heard people comment on her dress, hair, makeup, she could name it all. But none who reported it directly to her. It was just loud enough so she would think it was a whisper and she wouldn’t be sure who it was from.

It was while wandering around when she finally heard comments that weren’t being made about her, but about something that most definitely interested her.

She reached for a glass from a waiter and smiled to him in thanks as she casually pretended to look for someone in the crowd while her ears picked up the conversation happening behind her.

“You know what I think?” A woman muttered, “I think this whole night is just a charity cause. He’s trying to petty us into giving him funds so he can continue his bland excuse of a hotel.” Another man  joined in, “I don’t think that’s true. Did you hear his speech? He’s trying to cover up the fact he’s going bankrupt. His little act of intimidation was rather mournful, though.”

“He’s trying to cover up a lot of things, from what I’ve heard,” the same woman stated as a matter-of-factly. She let a short, yet effective pause draw out to spark their interest, before she continued. “A little birdie told me that the poor fellow got his heart broken. Got addicted to gambling because of it, lost all his funding and then some in one night.” They gasped dramatically, and she’d heard enough.

Like the person who had been observing her from across the room, had seen enough.

She came across Matt as she moved towards the exit, who gave her a questioning look, to which she simply responded that she was tired from everything the day had brought her. “I understand, ma’am,” he said, before he gave a small smile, “I can’t explain how grateful I am-“ “Don’t worry,” she interrupted him, “Like I said, I was just helping out a friend.” She gave his arm a kind squeeze.

He called after her, “Oh, if you see Alex, tell him I’m looking for him! I’ve been finding too many empty glasses where I’ve seen him.”

As she closed the door of the hall behind her, a wave of silence washed over her like a cold breeze. She had a headache and she was sure it wasn’t because of the champagne. A walk would do her some good.

It was as if her feet had known what she was thinking, because she found herself in front of the picture with her mother in it. She actually found some of the faces to be familiar now, probably through having passed them during the party. Her eyes moved back to inspect the man between Matt and Jamie. It was a gut feeling that told her she should find out more about this particular person.

She heard the shuffling of feet beside her, but she’d half-expected the noise so she didn’t even flinch. “Got enough material for your book?” He slurred.

She blinked at Alex, the little respect she’d held for him slowly but surely dripping away like water from a tap that’s been leaking. “How could I have enough material when you won’t even tell me anything about your bloody hotel?” she shot back.

He scoffed, leaning against the wall. He clearly wasn’t sober enough to keep his balance. “You don’t need me to find out about all the details now, do you? You’ve clearly been making your own assumptions through the stories from my loyal guests.”

She raised her brows in surprise as she took a daring step towards him. “Have you been spying on me?”

“Being able to observe people is a real writer’s trait, is it not? Always keen on finding the truth, even when it’s been covered by decades of dust and grime. It’s what makes for a good book.” He pushed himself forward until he was directly in front of her. He smelled like cigarettes and expensive whiskey. “The only thing you’ve done so far is brush the surface of that grave. You’re just another cheap journalist looking for a good story to get your job back.”

His words stung and before she knew it, so did her hand.

She really hadn’t meant to slap him. She wasn’t one to slap people. Yet, it had been her body’s first instinct. It was as if a gravitational force had pulled her palm to his cheek in a very violent way. She could’ve just held his face for all she knew, if it hadn’t been for the anger rushing through her in that particular moment, inducing her decision-making to be more erratic.

He almost didn’t seem fazed at all. He just looked at her. And in the flicker of a moment, she thought she’d seen an ounce of remorse in his eyes. It was right before they turned stone cold again.

“Leave,” he hissed. She was at a loss for words. When he got no response, he audibly made his request clearer. “Leave. You’ll pack your things. And you’ll be leaving, tonight.”

“She’s not going anywhere,” a voice proclaimed from behind him. She turned to look at Matthew, who was joined by Jamie and a distressed-looking Nick. Miles stepped out from the hall as well, closing the doors behind him to give them some form of privacy.

“Our guest has decided to shorten her stay with us,” Alex stated, his eyes not leaving hers, “If you could take her to the train station in a bit, Matthew.”

“The hour is late, Alex. There won’t be a train till morning,” Matt simply replied. “Then you can drive her all the way back home, if you must,” Alex snarled, while running a hand through his dark hair.

“I’m sorry, Alex. But she’s staying.”

Matt didn’t hold his usual backtalk. It seemed he was more tired and disappointed than angry. When Alex realized none of his friends were going to take his side, - not even Miles made a comment - he stormed back into the dining hall and slammed the door. She could distantly hear him yelling, telling everyone the party’s over. When he was done and people started shuffling out, he disappeared around a corner.

She noticed Matt’s jaw clench as Miles let out a deep sigh. “I think it’s best if I stay around for a while,” he simply said. As Nick led him to the front desk to hand him a key, Matt placed an arm around her shoulder while his eyes remained directed towards the same hallway Alex had drunkenly stumbled off through. “Come on, miss. Let’s get you back to your room. It’s been a long night.”

I Want To Be Here | Cliff Booth

Word Count: 1558

Pairing: Cliff Booth x Plus Size Reader

Request: I was wondering if you could do a cliff booth x reader? Where theyre all cuddly and stuff, and she sorta gets insecure? But he reassures her that he loves her?

Warning: self-image issues.

A/N: I don’t know how good or bad this is. Feedback would be very much appreciated, requests too!

Stay-in days were your favorite. Some would say there wasn't anything special in them, and you would have agreed a few months ago but now, with your head on Cliff’s chest and his fingers threading through your hair, you thought you’d happily stay in every single time. He had just gotten back that morning. You two had followed your routines, caught up as best as possible, and decided the only thing you would do the whole day would be cuddling.

His work made seeing each other quite difficult, sometimes you two would only be able to talk by phone at night. You had pulled all-nighters more times than you would ever admit to your friends just to hear his voice. It calmed the nerves bubbling up your stomach— the thought of him finding someone better was constantly in your mind and there weren't many things that could convince you otherwise. Logically you knew he wouldn’t have asked you out if he didn't like you, he wouldn't have stuck around if he wasn't interested.

Logic wasn’t enough sometimes, you had wondered if you were doing the right thing by dating a man as attractive as him several occasions. He could have any person in the world, he was surrounded by gorgeous people due to his work, and even if he wasn't he wouldn't have had any trouble finding a gorgeous thin model to date.

He shuffled underneath you, grabbing your attention as his arm tightened around your waist. You hadn't realized you were staring at the bedpost until you tore your eyes from it to gather what was going on. Cliff wasn't one for moving too much while you two were in bed, and he had been adamant about watching the film playing on the tv to which you didn't have the heart to decline so you hadn’t expected him to make any noise or movement yet.

Looking up, your eyes found his already dancing over your face. He did that a lot, you didn’t know why and wouldn’t ask either just in case the reason wasn't one you would like.

”Are you bored, darling?” he asked, his hand sliding down to the back of your neck.

It wasn’t boredom, not of him or of the movie, you were simply tired of fighting the urge of running away from him when he touched you just so you didn't have to see disgust all over his handsome face. Had he ever shown disgust while seeing you? You didn't know, you didn't want to know just in case.

”Just tired,” you lied, following the cliché that if you were in a romantic novel would ensue in your significant other picking the signs up and trying to reassure you.

Cliff wasn’t a bad boyfriend, he was actually the best you had ever had. He was a gentleman, listened to your rambles regarding your interests and always asked about your work, he trusted you enough to tell you about his past, you felt comfortable with him most of the time, in your best days you even felt confident enough to be the one to kiss him first or wrap your arms around him. He didn't know how insecure you could get, you had worked hard to hide it from him and blowing your cover now just because things had been piling up would be pathetic.

Chilly air hit the back of your neck when his hand moved to grab the remote. The room grew silent, he probably thought you wanted to go to sleep early and you wouldn’t fight him on it if he insisted but you wished you could speak your mind for once.

”Is that why you are so tense?”

You swallowed thickly, ”yes, love. It was a long month.” Not a lie, being away from him took tolls on you as it was but this time around you two had missed so many summerly activities while everyone around you enjoyed the heat of the sun, hitting the pool, doing cookouts— it had been for the best in the sense that he hadn’t seen you in a swimsuit, but knowing that wasn’t comforting.

His free arm wrapped too around you, a hum resonating from his chest to your ear. You clenched your jaw as his fingers unintentionally brushed your side, eyes diverting from his semblance to the grey t-shirt he was wearing. The piece of clothing wasn't a tight fit yet his arm muscles popped out the sleeves, you had fawned a few times upon seeing them, you had seen other people have the same reaction. You had also seen the way they stared, silently wondering how a man like him could be with someone like you.

”Why are you with me?”

”What do you mean?” Cliff shuffled again, just enough to look at you properly.

You mumbled, ”I dunno, you could be anywhere in the world right now with the prettiest person on the planet, and you're still here... With me.”

”I want to be here,” he said, so naturally. In his mind, that was a good answer, it was the truth and you two were the kind of couple that saw honesty as the most important thing in a relationship. That was what had worked for you, it was great, he had never gotten something similar to it.

You frowned. You had expected either an explanation or an excuse, something more than a comment bordering on pandering. Was it even that? For the second time that afternoon you considered ending things with him. The warmth of his hands on your body would tear you apart more often than not, it wasn't his fault, and the most fucked up thing about it was that it wasn't yours either. But you didn't want to leave him.

Everyone in this world wants to be loved, one way or another, Cliff made you feel loved most of the time. If you ignored your insecurities —which some days was very easy and others so hard you’d make excuses to not go out— you genuinely believed you two would make it together until the end.

Having had enough of tiptoeing around subjects, you braced yourself for the fallout. You slid out of his embrace, feeling his eyes on you as you sat down. You didn't look at him, but your body was facing him.

“But why, Cliff? There are tons of people out there! Shit, you’re constantly encircled of stunning people, why me?”

Cliff sat up, eyeing you carefully. However, he didn't speak yet. Your arms instinctively wrapped around your torso when covering your belly with a pillow wasn’t an option. It made you nervous, the way he just stared instead of answering you. Was he silently listing all your flaws and inwardly agreeing with you? Would he get up and leave once realization dawned on him? Maybe he was already preparing the break up speech. God, it hurt— it wouldn’t be the first time it happened, at this point it would only be the last if you simply quitted the dating life.

He repeated his words from minutes prior, ”sugar,” he called for you softly, extending a hand to place it on your thigh, ”there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here with you. What's going on? You don't want me anymore?”

Wetting your bottom lip, you gazed at him in the face. ”Of course I want you, Cliff! What kind of question is that? I just—” you shook your head, ”I’m fat.” He lifted his eyebrows, but you didn’t let him speak. ”What I mean is I’m not as attractive as you or the people you are used to.”

”But I am with you, I like being with you!” he huffed, moving to a kneeling position to get closer to you. ”You’re a bigger woman, so what? I like you that way.”

Nodding, you followed the movement of his hands as he pried yours from your body. You allowed him, leaning forward to kneel too. His arms ended around your thick waist, yours around his shoulders.

”I still get insecure...” you mumbled, ashamed.

His fingers went back to your head, massaging your scalp with a tenderness you didn't remember to have ever been shown your way. The other arm was tightly around you, pulling you as flush as him as possible. ”I love you, (y/n). Your curves, and lumps, and insecurities included.”

Pecking his cheek, you hummed happily. ”I love you, Cliff. Sorry for being like this.”

He chuckled lightheartedly, his lips searching for yours. The kiss was chaste, there was no hurry nor another intention behind it other than assurance. Assurance that he loved you, that he wouldn’t leave, that you liked him as much as he wanted you, that it was okay to get insecure sometimes, that there was nothing wrong with you. It was purely the reminder that you were loved.

The movie was eventually resumed, Cliff laying on his back as your front pressed against his side. His fingers trailed up and down your spine, your cheek pressing on his chest and arm draped over his stomach. He would laugh from time to time due to the nature of the film, making you giggle which prompted him to laugh some more. He was happy to have you in his arms, and you were genuinely comfortable between them.

A China Rose: Chapter 19

Summary: Y/N was once an employee at Prince Adam’s castle along with being his childhood friend but she doesn’t remember. Caught up in the curse, she ends up in Villeneuve where she stands out. But circumstances arrive and she somehow returns to the place she once called home, and a beast she once thought a friend.

A multi-chapter fanfiction. MASTERLIST

Author's Note: Here's chapter 19! So close to the dance. But not yet cause I'm evil. I tried so hard to find a gif of Beast in the bath or in his prince makeup but I couldn't and it annoyed me to no end! As usual tags and questions are OPEN but requests remain CLOSED. I hope you guys all enjoy!

Chapter 19: Preparation

He’d done it. He’d asked you to dance. Had he meant to? No. Was he glad he did? He wasn’t sure. As soon as he’d blurted out the question he’d immediately felt like smacking himself in the head, hoping that you had never actually heard him. He didn’t want to be rejected by someone he’d already pushed away once before. So imagine his shock when you had said yes. At first Adam felt pure joy and he let out the large amount of air with relief. You weren’t rejecting him like you had done before (although this time around he hadn’t done half as many stupid things). Then he realised that he hadn’t danced in almost a decade, could he even more? Not only that, what was he to wear? He wanted to impress you but how? He felt the blood drain from his face and he immediately ran out of the room. He practically sprinted upstairs before pausing at the top of the first flight. He was going to need help to get ready. He didn’t even know if he had any appropriate clothes, let alone know if he could even dance anymore. With that thought he yelled for Lumière who, after a long poignant wait for Adam, came running out from the room that headed into the dining room. Lumière paused looking into the ballroom and quickly Adam coughed. Lumière looked up and sprinted up the stairs before climbing up the banister to try and be at Adam’s eye level.

“Yes, master?” He enquired. Adam looked at him and tried to explain what he’d done but he failed. He could feel a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“I… um… I…” He began whilst Lumière stared at him waiting. He then heard a ruffle from downstairs. Adam immediately looked towards the noise and saw it was you leaving the ballroom, arms full of art supplies. He knew you could barely see anything from behind them all stacked up but in all honesty he didn’t want you to see him after he basically ran out of the ballroom. Adam grabbed Lumière and pulled him into a dark corner of the stairwell as you staggered past them both a large smile on your face. Adam’s eyes followed you and Lumière let out a rather large gasp of realisation.

“Did… Did something happen between you two?” He questioned. Adam simply looked down at his feet, remaining silent. This silence was broken when a large squeal was heard from upstairs. “That was the Madame.”

“FINALLY A DRESS! I CAN MAKE A BEAUTIFUL DRESS!”

“I… may have asked Y/N to dance.” Adam whispered. Lumière’s metal mouth seemed to melt as it dropped. “It’s tonight.” Still Lumière stared, slacked jawed. “She said yes by the way.” Adam looked away from Lumière's shocked face, feeling like a small child who had just done something horrifically wrong. 

"Mon ami!!!" Lumière exclaimed. "This is wonderful!" 

Adam looked up shocked at Lumière's response. 

"My goodness. You must hurry! We must get you prepared along with the ballroom. We must have music and a feast with only the finest food!" Lumière quickly jumped out of Adam's paw and began to run down the stairs before pausing and turning back round to face Adam. "Go mon ami! Begin with a trim, then a bath. We will all be with you shortly. I must inform the others of this new development. For preparation obviously." Adam nods and begins to head up the stairs thinking that perhaps everything would be fine. 

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He was wrong. So very, very wrong. He was not fine. He was well aware that the curse was coming to an end and he needed this to go well but apparently everyone else felt the need to reinforce this piece of information. They also were reminding him of how to act and Y/F/N was simply just there scrutinising him in silence with a clear facial expression that said 'hurt her again and you suffer more that you already have'. Adam gulped as Mrs Potts tried to drill home how important the evening was. 

"This is it!" She said enthusiastically, whilst Adam was doused, by Chapeau, in another bucket of water. "Now or never!" 

"The clock is ticking." Cogsworth added unnecessarily. 

"There are only four petals left mon ami!" Lumière reminded. "Which means tonight you must tell her how you feel!" 

Adam sighed. He knew what this night meant. He knew the staff only meant to help, to put him at ease but it was doing the opposite. He knew that you were probably his, their, last chance yet hearing it out loud from so many people did nothing to squash his fear and anxiety. However, that wasn't the main reason he was nervous. It was you. He couldn't understand you, (some of the time) and what he wanted desperately to be able to do was understand your heart, so he wouldn't have to fret over your response if he told you he loved you. He did love you. He had to admit he always had, since you were both children, but he had to grow into his father’s image and pushed you further away. He refused to do that again. Ever again. That was what scared him. That he loved you and he could admit it to himself but not you. He was terrified of you not feeling the same. He still remembered the time when you both fell in the castle lake, or made a book fort in the library, or played on the library ladders and made and obstacle course. He loved you back then, now he could identify the feeling, but you didn't remember those memories. You only knew him now and he hoped that that was enough. 

He shook himself as he stood from the water shaking his sodden coat and grabbing a towel whilst his nerves began to get the best of him. 

"She'll never love me." He whispered to himself, loud enough for all to hear. 

"Do not be discouraged!" Lumière proclaimed whilst Adam dried himself behind the curtain. 

"Look at me!" Adam exclaimed as he stepped out from behind the curtain dressed in a striped robe. "I feel like a fool. She deserves so much more than a... than a beast." He added solemnly.  

"You care for her don't you?" Y/F/N asked thought it sounded more like a statement of fact. 

"More than anything." He mumbled out as he looked at Y/F/N for the first time in the evening. The paintbrush nodded when he saw the look in Adam's eyes. There was fear and so much longing there. Lumière clearly saw the doubt in Adam's eyes and tried once more to encourage him.  

"Well then, woo her with beautiful music and romantic candle light..." 

"Yes," Plumette added, "and when the moment is just right..." 

"But... how will I know when the time is right?" Adam questioned. 

“In my experience,” Cogsworth stated after clearing his throat, “you will feel slightly nauseous.”

Adam unsurprisingly felt even worse than before. Lumière noticed and shot Cogsworth a look, silencing Cogsworth in a heartbeat.

“Don’t worry, mon ami,” Lumière reassured turning back towards Adam. “You will do fine. The problem was before she couldn’t see the real you.” 

“No. The problem was that she did.” Mrs Potts said disagreeing. A loud poignant silence fell over the staff and Adam. Adam looked at Mrs Potts wide eyed and he felt his guilt and nerves grow. “For years before the curse,” Mrs Potts went on, “she above all hoped that you’d change and be the boy she remembered and loved but you just continued being cruel, selfish and angry. When she left and the curse was set we hoped against all hope that you would change but you didn’t and now we are running out of time. The truth is the staff, all of us, love you.” Adam almost forgot to breath. “Before we loved you despite of who you were but now we all love you because of who you are.”

Adam felt the corner of his mouth twitch. The staff all nodded and Y/F/N stepped forward.

“Most of all Y/N loves you. She never stopped. So you go out there and tell my daughter how you feel or I swear I’ll make Mrs Potts serve you cold tea for the rest of your life.”

“Whilst in the dark.” Lumière added.

“Covered in dust.” Plumette chimed in.  

The staff all waited staring at Adam and Adam for once smiled without having to try too hard. He felt he was ready and nodded as the entire staff began fussing about how he looked. This time though, he felt like his looks wouldn’t matter.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the opposite side of the castle in your room you stood still letting Garderobe primp and pamper you. You were struck by a large case of the nerves ever since you had reached your room. You had dumped your art supplies on your bed which had woken the Madame from her slumber. You had told her about the dance and squealed with utter delight. She had immediately started planning a dress and for once you didn't have a single complaint; so in shock from being asked to dance that you didn't mind what she gave you. You trusted her enough to know that she's never make something that was outside of your comfort zone (which was simple garments). Whilst Garderobe began on the dress you drew a bath and washed yourself clean whilst pondering your feelings for Adam. You admitted to yourself that you felt happy around him and you found that you actively sought out his company and reading in the library with him not there felt slightly empty. If you had your father by your side you would have admitted to him that your feelings for Adam had become deeper than friendship but was it love? You weren't sure yet. Now, however you were about to go and spend an evening with him, having a meal and dancing in the ballroom. 

After your bath you stood in front of Garderobe as she made the final touches to your dress. She had banned you from looking in the mirror so for the past 2 hours you had either been blindfolded or had your eyes shut whilst she did your hair, makeup and dress. During those past hours your thoughts had switched constantly between pondering how you felt about Adam and how you looked. You remembered how when you first came to the castle the Madame was slightly appalled by your preference of comfort and practicality over fashion. She'd made many dresses for you in the beginning that you were certain that you'd never be able to walk in but as time went on her designs became more and more you, though she had flat out refused to make trousers citing that ‘a lady does not wear them’. You had told her you were a simple country girl who liked trousers yet to no avail and you were content with your new dresses that had pockets. 

"Okay I believe you can look." Garderobe said. 

You opened your eyes and gasped. Garderobe had truly outdone herself. You almost didn't recognise your reflection. You were wearing minimal makeup only a slight rouge and lip. Your Y/H/C hair had been swept back into a gold head piece and a gold branch wrapped round your ear. You had a golden chain with a red rose pendant attached hanging around your neck and you could see bright red and gold shoes sticking out from underneath your skirts. The dress, however, your dress, was the greatest part of the ensemble. Words really couldn’t describe how beautiful it was. The skirt was full and floated as if it were like a cloud. It glowed like a halo and every slight movement you made caused the dress to almost shine as it caught the light. You smiled up at Garderobe who stretched out her drawers and somehow a layer of gold dust magically fell from the ceiling adding gold, glittered accents onto the skirts and bodice of the dress. You didn’t question how the gold fell from the ceiling; after living in the castle for so long you had just learnt to accept the bizarre and different. Pleased with her work, Garderobe pushed you gently out of the door into the empty corridor. You felt your nerves take over when you heard the door behind you close. You wrung your hands together and realised that your china hand was smooth and shiny. You looked at it to see that it was bare and for the first time in years lacking in paint. You normally would have wanted to cover it so that no one could see how the china slowly blended into skin but this night, you wanted Adam to see the real you, hand included. So with a deep breath you headed away from your room towards the grand staircase where you hoped that your prince for the night would be waiting.

Tag List

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I apologise to anyone who isn’t tagged on the above list, I’ve tried everything I can think of to get them to work. I’m sorry.

Today’s reading from the ancient book of Proverbs and book of Psalms

for july 10 of 2021 with Proverbs 10 and Psalm 10, accompanied by Psalm 21 for the 21st day of Summer and Psalm 41 for day 191 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 10]

[Wisdom for Today]

The wisdom of Solomon:

When wisdom comes to a son,

joy comes to a father.

When a son turns from wisdom,

a mother grieves.

Gaining wealth through dishonesty is no gain at all.

But honesty brings you a lasting happiness.

The Lord satisfies the longings of all his lovers,

but he withholds from the wicked what their souls crave.

Slackers will know what it means to be poor,

while the hard worker becomes wealthy.

Know the importance of the season you’re in

and a wise son you will be.

But what a waste when an incompetent son

sleeps through his day of opportunity!

The lover of God is enriched beyond belief,

but the evil man only curses his luck.

The reputation of the righteous

becomes a sweet memorial to him,

while the wicked life only leaves a rotten stench.

The heart of the wise will easily accept instruction.

But those who do all the talking

are too busy to listen and learn.

They’ll just keep stumbling ahead

into the mess they created.

The one who walks in integrity

will experience a fearless confidence in life,

but the one who is devious

will eventually be exposed.

The troublemaker always has a clever plan

and won’t look you in the eye,

but the one who speaks correction honestly

can be trusted to make peace.

The teachings of the lovers of God are like

living truth flowing from the fountain of life,

but the words of the wicked

hide an ulterior motive.

Hatred keeps old quarrels alive,

but love draws a veil over every insult

and finds a way to make sin disappear.

Words of wisdom flow from the one with true discernment.

But to the heartless, words of wisdom

become like rods beating their backside.

Wise men don’t divulge all that they know,

but chattering fools blurt out words

that bring them to the brink of ruin.

A rich man’s wealth becomes like a citadel of strength,

but the poverty of the poor leaves their security in shambles.

The lovers of God earn their wages for a life of righteousness,

but the wages of the wicked are squandered on a life of sin.

If you readily receive correction,

you are walking on the path to life.

But if you reject rebuke,

you’re guaranteed to go astray.

The one who hides his hatred while pretending to be your friend

is nothing but a liar.

But the one who slanders you behind your back

proves that he’s a fool, never to be trusted.

If you keep talking, it won’t be long

before you’re saying something really wrong.

Prove you’re wise from the very start—

just bite your tongue and be strong!

The teachings of the godly ones are like pure silver,

bringing words of redemption to others,

but the heart of the wicked is corrupt.

The lovers of God feed many with their teachings,

but the foolish ones starve themselves

for lack of an understanding heart.

True enrichment comes from the blessing of the Lord,

with rest and contentment in knowing

that it all comes from him.

The fool finds fun in planning to do wrong,

but the wise delight in having discernment.

The lawless are haunted by their fears

and what they dread will come upon them,

but the longings of the lovers of God will all be fulfilled.

The wicked are blown away by every stormy wind.

But when a catastrophe comes,

the lovers of God have a secure anchor.

To trust a lazy person to get a job done

will be as irritating as smoke in your eyes—

as enjoyable as a toothache!

Living in the worship and awe of God

will bring you many years of contented living.

So how could the wicked ever expect to have a long, happy life?

Lovers of God have a joyful feast of gladness,

but the ungodly see their hopes vanish right before their eyes.

The beautiful ways of God are a safe resting place

for those who have integrity.

But to those who work wickedness

the ways of God spell doom.

God’s lover can never be greatly shaken.

But the wicked will never inherit

the covenant blessings.

The teachings of the righteous are loaded with wisdom,

but the words of the evil ones are crooked and perverse.

Words that bring delight pour from the lips of the godly,

but the words of the wicked are duplicitous.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 10 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 10]

The Cry of the Oppressed

[The Lord is Concealed]

Lord, why do you seem so far away when evil is near?

Why have you hidden yourself when I need you the most?

The arrogant in their elitist pride persecute the poor and helpless.

May you pour out upon them

the very evil they’ve dreamed up against others!

How they brag and boast of their cravings, exalting the greedy.

They congratulate themselves as they despise you—

these arrogant ones, so smug and secure!

In their delusion the wicked boast, saying,

“God doesn’t care about what we do.

There’s nothing to worry about!”

So successful are they in their schemes

and prosperous in all their plans!

Your laws are far from them;

they scoff at their enemies.

They boast that neither God nor men will bring them down.

They sneer at all their enemies, saying in their hearts,

“We’ll have success in all we do

and never have to face trouble.”

Their mouths spew out cursing, lies, and threats.

Only trouble and turmoil come from all their plans.

Like beasts lurking in the shadows of the city,

they crouch silently in ambush, waiting for the innocent to pass by.

Pouncing on the poor, they catch them in their snare

to murder their prey in secret

as they plunder their helpless victims.

They crush the lowly as they fall beneath their brutal blows,

watching their victims collapse in defeat!

Then they say to themselves,

“The Lofty One is not watching while we do this.

He doesn’t even care! We can get away with it!”

[The Lord is Concerned]

Now arise, Yahweh-God! Crush them once and for all!

Don’t forget the helpless and oppressed.

How dare the wicked think they’ll reject God and escape judgment.

They say to themselves,

“God won’t hold me accountable.”

Lord, I know you see all that they’re doing,

noting their each and every deed.

You know the trouble and turmoil they’ve caused.

Now punish them thoroughly for all that they’ve done!

The poor and helpless ones trust in you, Lord,

for you are famous for being the helper of the fatherless.

I know you won’t let them down.

Break the power of the wicked and all their strong-arm tactics.

Search them out and destroy them

for the evil things they’ve done.

You, Yahweh, are King forever and ever!

All the nations will perish from your land.

Yahweh, you have heard the desires of the humble

and seen their hopes.

You will hear their cries and encourage their hearts.

The orphans and the oppressed will be terrified no longer,

for you will bring them justice, and no earth-dweller will trouble them again.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 10 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 21]

For the worship leader. A song of David.

The king is glad because You, O Eternal, are strong.

In light of Your salvation, he is singing Your name.

You have given him all he could wish for.

After hearing his prayer, You withheld nothing.

[pause]

True blessings You lavished upon the king;

a crown of precious gold You placed upon his head.

His prayer was to live fully. You responded with even more—

a never-ending life to enjoy.

With Your help, his fame and glory have grown;

You raise him high and cover him in majesty.

You shower him with blessings that last forever;

he finds joy in knowing Your presence and loving You.

For the king puts his trust in the Eternal,

so he will not be shaken

because of the persistent love of the Most High God.

King, your hand will reach for all your enemies;

your right hand will seize all who hate you.

When you arrive at the battle’s edge,

you will seem to them a furnace.

For the fire of the Eternal’s anger, the heat of His wrath

will burn and consume them.

You will cut off their children,

lop off the branches of their family tree.

The earth will never know them,

nor will they ever be numbered among Adam’s kin.

When they scheme against you,

when they conspire their mischief, such efforts will be in vain.

At the sight of you, they will sound the retreat;

your bows, drawn back, will aim directly at their faces.

Put Your strength, Eternal One, on display for all to see;

we will sing and make music of Your mighty power.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 21 (The Voice)

[Psalm 41]

I Need You, Lord

King David’s poetic song for the Pure and Shining One

God always blesses those who are kind to the poor and helpless.

They’re the first ones God helps

when they find themselves in any trouble.

The Lord will preserve and protect them.

They’ll be honored and esteemed

while their enemies are defeated.

When they are sick, lying upon their bed of suffering,

God will restore them.

He will raise them up again and restore them back to health.

So in my sickness I say to you,

“Lord, be my kind healer.

Heal my body and soul; heal me, God!

For I have confessed my sins to you.”

But those who hate me wish the worst for me, saying,

“When will he die and be forgotten?”

And when these “friends” come to visit me

with their pious sympathy and their hollow words

and with hypocrisy hidden in their hearts,

I can see right through it all.

For they come merely to gather gossip about me,

using all they find to mock me with malicious hearts of slander.

They are wicked whisperers who imagine the worst for me,

repeating their rumors, saying,

“He got what he deserved; it’s over for him!

The spirit of infirmity is upon him,

and he’ll never get over this illness.”

Even my ally, my friend, has turned against me.

He was one I totally trusted with my life,

sharing supper with him,

and now he shows me nothing but betrayal and treachery.

He has sold me as an enemy.

So Lord, please don’t desert me when I need you!

Give me grace and get me back on my feet

so I can triumph over them all.

Then I’ll know you’re pleased with me

when you allow me to taste victory over all my foes.

Now stand up for me and don’t let me fall,

for I’ve walked with integrity.

Keep me before your face forever.

Everyone praise the Lord God of Israel, always and forever!

For he is from eternity past

and will remain for the eternity to come.

That’s the way it will be forever.

Faithful is our King! Amen!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 41 (The Passion Translation)

meditations on fred andrews, radical softness, trauma victimhood, turning the other cheek, and old folk/country tunes

I’ve been frustrated for the last week with Fred’s devil-may-care attitude toward his situation, and I’ve definitely sensed we all are – WHY ARE YOU SO CHILL ABOUT BEING SHOT, FRED?? I saw a post recently questioning why Fred doesn’t have Archie’s storyline – paranoia, revenge, reconciliation of trauma -  and I wholeheartedly agreed! But then this episode happened and  - holy smokes, it’s all connecting. So here’s why Fred’s characterization has me absolutely GAGGED this episode, and where it might be headed.

I’m getting revved up because I think I have a guess (or maybe a hope!) at where we’re going with Fred this season. Buckle up.

Let’s start here: Fred is a study in radical softness and non-toxic masculinities, and I’ll fight to the death about it. @village-skeptic has pointed out that I work with this a lot in my fanfic, but my stuff is absolutely just springboarding off what we are canonically given in the show.

FRED IS SOFT: A THESIS. We’ve seen Fred cry multiple times by now. We’ve just seen him admit he’s afraid and talk openly to Archie about fear. Fred is allowed to interact with this emotionality that isn’t typical of his gender, and definitely isn’t typical of all the male characters on the show. Especially when we stand Fred up against other father figures: tough guy FP and his gang activities (fp cries a lot too but that’s another post), Cliff and his patriarchal maple syrup empire, Hal watching sports on TV during the abortion fight - the way Fred specifically is allowed to be soft is pretty glaring when we put him in a room alongside any of the other dads. (and yet he’s soft in conjunction with typical masculine signifiers, but I get into that later. Hal isn’t not soft just because he’s watching sports, it’s a lot of other stuff.)

I have a .mov file labelled freddale on my laptop that’s all of the fred scenes spliced together without any other noise, so trust me when I say I see it everywhere. Arguably our favourite Fred/parenting scene is him validating Archie’s need to cry after the Grundy confrontation. His bisexuality is still fandom conjecture but there’s unmistakeably at least a little bit of gender trouble here: Fred’s main qualities are without a doubt nurturing and paternal. In Mary’s absence we see him interact equally with maternity and maternal roles as he does with typically “masculine” signifiers: beer, construction, ect. (tangibly related: Hermione got the job at Andrews Construction because one of Fred’s guys was gone on paternity leave. He’s at the very least a guy who gives his crew paternity leave.)

We know Riverdale is at least willing to spend some time meditating on different conceptions of masculinity because FP tells us Jughead isn’t interested in sports, he takes after his mom, and FP means that as a compliment. I think the fact that the overwhelming fandom perception of Fred has included the word soft speaks volumes. I’ll bend to the knowledge of someone more versed in astrology than I, but Fred the way I conceptualize him is definitely a cancer: sensitive, sentimental, emotional, family-oriented. (again, moon signs & the moon itself are associated with femininity, motherhood, etc but this is more conjecture so I won’t get too into it. But when we find out fred was born july 10th you heard it here first.)

Fred is a lover, not a fighter. You cannot argue with me that this is untrue. You cannot. Fred is a lover before a fighter, always. We rarely see him get aggressive (and even when we do it’s not that aggressive), never see him get violent. All his plots, (minus uhh whatever’s going on with that construction site thing) are about his feelings (his crush on Hermione, his divorce, his fear for Archie ect). That revenge hasn’t even occurred to him after the shooting is surprising to us, but pretty characteristic if we’re charting his behaviour throughout the series. His #1 most important thing is family. “THAT’S WHY I CAME BACK.” He came back from the other side for Archie. We absolutely feel frustrated at Fred’s inactivity at times, but what he’s doing even when he’s inactive in other ways (LITERALLY, when he’s in a coma, but throughout the whole events of the series as well) is always holding Archie close to his chest and silently, constantly, eternally looking out for him, warning him, helping him. He sometimes makes decisions (like letting Grundy go) that will spare Archie’s feelings in the moment without any foresight as to future repercussions. It’s all about protecting Archie’s feelings. Loyalty is a main cancer quality too, and loyalty to Archie is Fred’s #1 constant concern.

Fred’s also a silent, tactile lover: his signature comforting-archie move is the hand on the back of the neck (just off the top of my head you can see it during jughead and fp’s blowup, when mary leaves in s1, but there’s a ton more sprinkled throughout. I think he does it during the grundy confrontation??). He hugs a lot. Before he makes out with Hermione in the trailer she presses her hand to his chest and he takes it and holds it there. We get that in place of any excessive dialogue – we’ve seen Fred so far to be very economical with his words. He chooses when he talks and then he talks carefully. But touch is 100% the way he expresses himself. If you’re into love languages as I am, I trust you to agree with me that Fred is a physical touch person. It ties into his physicality in other aspects of his life – building, construction, but it’s also consistently how we’ve seen him express and give affection (Hermione, Archie) and that ties further into his position as possessor of soft, non-intellectual, non-aggressive loving. Non-aggressive, tender physical expressions of affection is something that a lot of men avoid for the specific fear of being unmanned by it, it’s something specifically coded feminine, so that’s further at work along those lines.

Ok let’s say you believe me that Fred is a vessel for emotional honesty and the eradication of toxic masculinity. What’s the point of this post, and what does it have to do with Fred’s potential character arc?

Well, Alice and Fred were having it out during the town hall, and Alice spilled the tea of the year:

“FRED ANDREWS, TURNING THE OTHER CHEEK, LIKE ALWAYS.”

No, no one vocally agreed with her, but no one was really startled by the accusation either.  Because, yeah, she’s right: Fred up until now has been glaringly non-confrontational. I think it’s really safe to assume it’s part of his character. I know there’s been tons of scenes for me where something has been happening and I wanted Fred to step in, but he just kind of hovered in the background, occasionally touching Archie’s neck and looking sorrowful. (again, see the Grundy confrontation and Jughead and FP’s argument outside the school, but there are many more!! I think we get it when Keller and Kevin are facing off against Fred and Archie after Moose’s attack too). Fred never does anything wrong himself, but he lets things happen. Fred always takes the path of least resistance; he stagnates instead of being spurred into action. He’s planted firmly in the middle of fight-and-flight: instead of fighting or running I’d say he just stands still until it passes.

Think of our biggest collective grievances, all tied to non-confrontation and a failure to react: He let Jughead sleep in the garage!! Jughead ran away from the dance and no one – not even Fred, Parent of The Year – followed him!! HE. LET. GRUNDY. LEAVE. TOWN. WITHOUT. REPERCUSSION! He never hurt anyone directly, he just didn’t step in.

As much as I acknowledge that these inactions are due in part to, well, Luke not being written into every scene, they have always felt like character lapses to me. But if Riverdale is aware of it, as we can assume from Alice’s comment, could there be a longer game at play for this particular pitfall of Fred’s character?

He clearly always looks out for the best in people too: he’s defending the Southside at the town hall, we’ve heard him say “we don’t know that for sure” a lot when Archie’s making assumptions. Fred is slow to act, and another reason for it is his innocent-until-proven-guilty attitude about a lot of events and people. He turns the other cheek until he absolutely can’t ignore it anymore.

Enter Coward of the County, a 1979 country/folk ballad (or, rather, the Adam Harvey and Troy Cassar Daley cover, because that’s my preferred version, but bump whatever you can find). Here’s the lyrics. 

TL;DR: The song tells the story of Tommy, a young man known as the coward of his town because of his tendency to step down from violence and avoid confrontation. Tommy’s father, who died in prison when Tommy was ten, told him before his death that Tommy should always walk away from trouble and not try to prove his manhood with violence, which is why Tommy reacts ( or doesn’t react ) the way he does. His father asked him:

Promise me, son, not to do the things I've done

Walk away from trouble if you can

It won't mean you're weak if you turn the other cheek

I hope you're old enough to understand

Son, you don't have to fight to be a man

Tommy has been devoted to his father’s words all his life. Three of Tommy’s tormentors are a group of brothers known as the Gattlin boys. One day they attack and rape Tommy’s girlfriend Becky, and when Tommy finds out he apologizes to his father’s memory, locks the door of the bar, and beats the everloving beejeebus out of the three of them, no longer heeding his father’s advice, but not letting them get away with it either. Here’s that confrontation, and the end of the song:

Twenty years of crawling was bottled up inside him He wasn't holding nothin' back, he let 'em have it all When Tommy left the barroom, not a Gatlin boy was standing He said, "this one's for Becky”, as he watched the last one fall (and I heard him say)

"I promised you, Dad, not to do the things you've done I walk away from trouble when I can Now please don't think I'm weak, I didn't turn the other cheek And papa, I sure hope you understand Sometimes you gotta fight when you're a man"

It’s a meditation on manhood in a way, but to me that’s always been secondary to the main message of picking your battles, about being gentle and unaggressive while not allowing injustice to happen when you can do something about it. And it’s always spoken Fred to me, even though I wasn’t fully able to to reconcile why until this episode rolled around.

At first glance it reads more like an FP/Jughead story, and fairly so – “please don’t go down my path and end up in the slammer and lose the things that make you soft and unique in pursuit of a designated masculinity” is more or less exactly what we’ve heard from FP to Jughead. But the voice remains Fred’s to me – I think in a small way because he addresses Archie as “son” so often, but also because the repeated warnings Tommy’s dad gives him – ( “promise me you won’t do this” “walk away if you can” “it doesn’t mean you’re weak if you don’t fight” “you don’t have to fight”) are so emphatically close to the actual dialogue that we get from Fred to Archie in the show. How many promises has Archie made Fred? (and broken?) A huge percentage of Fred’s screentime is delivering this kind of advice to his son in these types of snippets. (In fact, the first thing we really significantly ever hear him say to Archie is the parental wisdom that if you’re confident enough in yourself, you don’t have to tell lies.) The delivery of parental wisdom – especially that tells us how to be a man softly and that manhood isn’t and shouldn’t be intrinsically linked to violence – is very much Fred’s realm.

I think the song caught my attention because of that message: that Tommy’s daddy was big enough and bad enough and man enough to go to prison and there realized that violence shouldn’t be what masculinity is all about is a pretty compelling argument for the toxicity of the maleness = aggression equation. Yet, the song also tries to navigate the question of how one can fight and defend oneself in a healthy way, and how one can identify with masculinity in a healthy way. There’s a lot of grey area where you try to draw that line through any of those points, and it seems almost right to see Fred try to navigate this as a trauma survivor.

I’ll return to Fred as a survivor of trauma in a sec, but let me finish drawing song parallels. Alice very clearly calls Fred out on his method of non-confrontation in a way that calls him a coward. His turn-the-other cheek mentality, now that’s spoken by Alice, is now an acknowledged character flaw with a past, and we can be confident that this is something Alice has seen again and again from Fred. Fred doesn’t step up. Fred doesn’t act. Fred lets things go. Fred is barely doing anything about the killer on the loose, for god’s sake, even though he was shot. Alice’s perception of Fred as cowardly ties into our own frustrations at Fred for being so silent and taking the path of least resistance all the time, even when his life is in the balance.

Tommy begins where Fred is – very hands-off, very uninterested in defending himself, seemingly unaffected by his trauma or by the opinions people hold of him. Fred’s manhood has no stake in aggression or violence, and his response is fear and disavowal rather than Archie’s out-and-out rage and desire for revenge. He’s not fussed about Alice’s – or what’s implied to be the whole town’s – perception of him. He’s willing to sit back and believe the cops will take care of the situation.

Tommy gets to the point, though, where he can’t be apathetic without becoming a bystander. His attack on the Gattlin boys for what they’ve done to Becky is a moment of catharsis, and a reconciliation of the inaction he’s performed all his life – “twenty years of crawling was bottled up inside him”.

Fred, in his turn, has a lot to be angry about, and a lot that he hasn’t acted on. Not just because he’s been shot, but because of everything Archie’s been through as a result of neglectful or harmful adults in his life, because of what’s happening with his business, because of all the ways his family has been failed or manipulated by the town. And we’ve barely seen any of the anger from him yet, not even in the face of his shooting, which is probably the greatest trauma he’s faced. So where is the subplot where Fred finally gets mad enough to seek out revenge? When is going to lock the barroom door and slam some heads?

I just called him a stander instead of a fighter or a flee-er, but let’s talk about the one time he does drop everything and fly into motion. We don’t know for sure exactly what happened in that diner, but I’m pretty sure we’re meant to assume he got his body in the way of Archie and took the bullet for him (an action he mirrors in his dream-realm, regardless, so we know he’s prepared to do it.) Fred does pick his battles, and whatever his commitment to non-violence, we know that he’d drop everything and do anything for Archie’s sake. I don’t think I’m reaching to say that Archie’s the person who would tip that scale: we’ve already seen it happen in small ways. Fred has the full capability of choosing when to act out in violence.

On trauma, though: The intersection of catharsis, healing, and revenge is another complicated element when we’re asking about Fred seeking or not seeking revenge on his shooter. Fred is a trauma victim who is momentarily disinterested in fighting back against the person who attacked him. Do we want to encourage him to fight back for the kind of catharsis that Tommy gets? Would fighting back be a source of healing for him? Would attacking the black hood be a release of his personal twenty years of crawling, or would it undo the work he’s done for himself in reconciling his softness and his masculinity? How do you reconcile trauma and still show mercy? When is it necessary to fight? Can radical softness still be radical if it lapses? Is that lapse itself radical? How do we even begin to answer these questions (especially on a cw show)?

I think this is where I start getting hopeful that all this is headed in the same direction. Here’s what I think: Fred is disinterested in revenge because he’s currently teaching us all a lesson in picking our battles. He’s keeping Archie close and embodying his greatest character flaw – inaction – in a way that’s connected to his greatest strength as a character – his non-toxic approach to masculinity and his soft, compassionate side. We know that Fred’s capable of choosing when to act, but that he typically chooses to turn the other cheek. He’s doing so now, and it’s frustrating, and thus is possibly being set up as a character flaw to overcome. And overcoming it demands action against the black hood specifically.

All this to say: I’m getting hopeful that we’re gearing up for a character arc where Fred overcomes his tendency to turn the other cheek and gets to pick his battle and then absolutely obliterates the black hood. For Archie’s sake, or his own healing. Fred’s a lover, not a fighter, but he’s getting to a place where to be one necessitates that he has to be the other: he has to protect the things he loves, and he has to pick when to be soft and when to be hard. Sometimes even the softest guys have to fight, and I for one won’t be mad if Fred comes out swinging. Give him Archie’s baseball bat and let him have at it.

41 An Easy Way Out

Back to school I went. Actually, I made two trips to South Bend.  The first was a brief trip to meet with Dean Baldinger, find a place to live, and to check on a lead for a job.  Even though I made good money selling ice cream, I was not good at holding on to it.  Income was an essential. The second trip was on The Pennsylvania Railroad, my usual transportation from home to school.

 I remember telling you about John Murray, my best friend at home, who, before reaching his teens, burned his legs, horribly, jumping over a leaf fire while wearing fuzzy western chaps. Well, the insurance settlement gave him the cash to purchase a blue,1958 Chevy Impala convertible.  So, in the summer of 1959, he offered to drive me out to Notre Dame and back.  His Catholic upbringing played heavily in his decision to drive me.  I believe many Spanish pilgrims would have skipped Majorca, if an ocean hadn’t separated them from the land of Notre Dame, God’s favorite place…and football team. The miracles of football have always been attributed to the presence and efforts of the Holy Ghost.  It made sense John wanted to take me out there. Probably, it was the last thing we did together.  It didn’t matter what I showed John.  He was overwhelmed with the gold statue, atop the Golden Dome, of Our Lady of the Lake…Notre Dame du Lac-the actual name of the University.  

Truthfully, I have a shaky memory of when different things happened on that trip.  I remember feeling very suspicious of the Dean’s constant support and encouragement.  What I began to think was the Sisters of the Holy Cross, Sister Peter in particular, were behind it all…or maybe even Father O’Brian.  Most likely, credit goes to St. Dean Baldinger, who encouraged us all.  I was welcomed back, and he told me to select my courses at registration.  

 Next, we traveled to the home of Mrs. Agnes Tomlison, a tiger of a woman at eighty-six years, who could look at you with that same piercing eye as Sister Peter, and lick her lips the same way as my special angelic nun.  My friend Don Tanguay, who had lived there the previous year, recommended me as a good Catholic student whom she could trust.  When I interviewed, that lie continued.  I also told her I was Catholic.  She then took a few rocks in her rocking chair, gave me a piercing eye while licking her lips, agreed to my living there, and got up from the chair to show me the room.  It was upstairs.  She then gave me a vital responsibility.  Each morning as I leave for school, I am to look to see if the living room shade is up or down.   If it was still down, that meant she was dead, and I should call her son.

 Before John and I left to return to New York, I checked to see if there were any jobs on campus that would fit my schedule. I can’t remember how I got the info, but Louie Rappelli was setting up a pizza parlor, and he needed students.  I went over to the building in which he was located and talked with him.  He owned another restaurant, on Notre Dame Avenue, which I frequented. So, he was glad to see me, and promised me a job when I returned to school.  Back to New York we went, and back to Good Humor for me. That was a real successful trip. Now all I had to do was register for my classes.

 My educational situation was really not too bad.  I had just a couple of science credits to graduate with the degree in science promised to me by the Dean.  I just had to take enough course to reach the 132 credits needed for graduation. If I kept my nose to the grindstone, I would be an alumnus on June 4, 1960. Naturally, medical school was not in my future, but graduating was clearly in view.

 When it was time to return to Notre Dame, Mother, Joe, and Al took me to Penn Station.  We got to the platform just as the conductor yelled, “All Aboard.”  Quietly, Al said to me, “Don’t come home without a G--Damn degree”. I picked up my baggage and walked toward the entrance to the train.  Just as I boarded, I could hear Al yell these unforgettable words, “Take education, it’s easy!”   So, when I got back to school, I visited the education department.  

 Get this! All I had to do were education classes, and I could graduate with my science degree (as long as I met those requirements) and apply for a State license to teach all math and physical sciences in Secondary Education.  The courses I needed were as follows: Principles of Secondary Education, Materials and Methods of Secondary Education, Tests and Measurements, Educational Statistics, and Practice Teaching.  I signed up for Geology and Lab, Intro to Analysis, Calculus I and II to meet the science requirements.  I was short five hours to reach the 132 credits to graduate.  I took care of that the day I signed up for courses for my final semester. I decided to take five hours of piano.  I went over to the Music Department to see if a piano teacher would take me on.  To my disappointment, all the piano teachers’ schedules were full.   I guess my disappointment radiated from my being.  A very nice man, who saw my sad face, asked if he could help.  I told him about needing 5 hours to graduate and my plans to take piano, but the piano teachers had no openings.  He asked me if I would be okay with 5 hours of violin. I jumped at that opportunity and signed up for the 5 hours. He was a professor of violin.  His name- Charles Biando.  Little did I know, Mr. Biando was considered the primo violin teacher in the Midwest.  Clearly, without question, he was simply helping me to graduate.  Everything I played that semester sounded like “Mary had a little lamb”.  I did learn how to not screech the violin.

I’m not too sure whether I made a turnaround academically, and became a better student; or perhaps, Al was right- Education was easy.  I enjoyed visiting the public schools and observing classes, in all disciplines.  As I learned about theories of teaching and learning, I wondered about the kind of teacher I would be, and how I would relate to students and to other teachers.  By the end of that first semester, I found a student teaching position at John Adams High School in South Bend.  Mr. Volney Wier, head of the Mathematics Department, would be my supervising teacher.  He taught, Algebra, Trigonometry, and Solid Geometry.  My supervisor from Notre Dame, Dr. Jerry Fargin was to observe me, and then, discuss with Mr. Weir my progress.  Both teachers would contribute to my final evaluation.

 My primary job was to teach trigonometry.  At first, I observed that class for about a week before I took over the reins.  Mr. Wier’s style of lesson plans fit me to a tee. He did not make elaborate plans. Each day, he would look in the book to find the topics to be covered, and he would make a list of those topics.  I liked that, and I did mine the same way.  I would list the topics, and I would make darn well sure I understood all the topics before teaching them to the class.  Once the bell rang to start each class, we would first go over the homework that was due.  Then, I would present new topics to the students, assign homework, and give them class time to get started on that assignment.  I enjoyed the students, immensely.  We solved problems together, and had a few good laughs doing it.   I can distinctly remember thinking… wow, this is fun! I can’t believe I can get paid for telling others what I know!  

 Ironically, I also learned that I could get paid for not telling students what I know. One day, I had to teach Mr. Wier’s Solid Geometry class without any preparation. The class consisted of five seniors and me.  I had them put their assignment problems on the blackboard, after which, we would review each problem, together.  I basically kept my mouth shut as the five of them asked each other questions and fully discussed the problems.  I learned a lot just by watching and listening to them.  When the bell rang, they thanked me for one of the best classes they ever had. Yes, if I was getting paid, I would have been paid for that performance.

The day Dr. Fargin made his required observation of my teaching, he made it a surprise visit.  My lecture was really short and in my eyes, him showing up that day would make for a disastrous experience.   After going over the homework, I was to teach them about radians. I told you about the second time I took the New York State Regents exam in Trigonometry.   I missed one question on the entire exam - it was on radians.  I told the students because of my experience learning about radians, I decided to give them a very brief lesson, then assign them lots of problems to solve for their assignment, which they might complete by the end of the period.  Dr. Fargin saw me teach for ten to fifteen minutes, and the rest of the time, he watched me move around the classroom helping the students.  I was certain, this did not look good.  He would probably have to observe my teaching, again… and I would still end up with a crappy grade.  However, the next day, on campus, another education student, whose name I cannot remember, saw me in the Student Center.  “Hey Rich”, he yelled, “you should have heard Dr. Fargin talk to our class about his observation of your teaching.  He raved about you?  He said you were masterful.”  Dr. Fargin was impressed by my honesty with the students and the appropriate response to my own experience, i.e., the brief lecture followed by me walking around the room helping those students in need.  My Practice Teaching final grade was a well deserved A+. That happened the second semester about six weeks before graduation

That was the Spring semester.  But, I would like to back up to the first semester of that year to tell you a few important memories.  I’ll start with Mrs. Tomlison.  Daily, she got outside to sweep the front steps. The front door was at least a story and a half higher than the street.  There had to be fifteen to twenty steps for her to clean.  What a marvel of a women! Even on a windy Fall day, she’d have her coat, her babushka, and the broom, sweeping those steps clean.  Another memory I have of her was her love of soap operas, especially “The Edge of Night”.   If I was home by 4 PM, I’d sit with her and watch that show. I thought it made her happy that we did this together. The greatest memory of Agnes Tomlison was her desire to leave this earth and enter God’s Kingdom.  Every Saturday night, she would get all dolled up in her most beautiful dress, lie down on her bed, and ask God to take her.  Each Sunday morning when she woke up, you could hear her disappointment resonate throughout the house- ”Goddamnit!”  I heard God finally welcomed her ten years later- she was 96. I’ll bet St. Peter needed help with the steps in front of the Pearly Gates!

 It should be clear to you that my academic life and my future were successfully merging.  My classes were going well, and I was gaining confidence in myself.  My job at the new pizza parlor was great.  I was making minimum wage plus free meals.  I suppose, when I look at it, I was smoothly sailing as a student toward graduation and a future. That didn’t mean my mind had matured beyond my ability of doing stupid things. On a Saturday late in the football season, I received a call from Jim. He and Tom, now both alumni, were in town and wanted me to join them for supper and fun.  But I had to work.  Tom thought of a scheme that would make our reunion possible…and I went along with it. He called Louie Rappelli, my boss, and pretended to be a doctor from St. Joseph’s Hospital.  He told Louie that I was in a car accident, and although I had no signs of physical injury, he wanted me to stay in the hospital overnight.  Yeah! I was free to join them.  I cannot remember anything about that evening, but what happened the next day was unforgettable.  I walked into work and was greeted by Louie with “Get the hell out of here!” I lost my job. Maybe Tom wasn’t very convincing, or, more likely, it was a super, stupid thing to do.   I now needed to find a job-FAST!  And that’s what I did.  I landed a sales job with Cutco Cutlery, a division of Alcoa.  I would talk with young gals and talk them into buying knives and other kitchen utensils for their hope chests.  Believe it or not, I was fairly successful.  I made enough to keep my head above water. Also, to this day, I am sold on Cutco products.

The Boy In The Bubble

@zanderlancer I finished!! Long awaited, but I think I like how it came out, and I also managed to work in all the lines you requested!! this is my first request really, so if you arent happy with it let me know and I can rework it!!

“It was 6:48, I was walking home. Stepped through the gate and I’m all alone, I had chicken on the plate but the food was cold, then I covered up my face so that no one knows…”

Bobby had never really fit in with the people in his town. The other people thought he was too extroverted, too trusting. They seemed to love to tell Bobby that he was a boy in a bubble, that no one in the town was genuinely friends with him, that he ought to break out of his fantasy world. Bobby always brushed it off though, took the negative statements and pretended it didn’t affect him. He didn’t want pity from others. If everyone was using him, well...he likes helping people, so it isn't an issue anyhow. 

“How is this my fault?” Bobby wondered aloud to the dark air as he kicked the door shut behind him. He felt no need to cover up his face, no one was home, so no one would see. Padding to the kitchen, he digs out some ice cubes, placing them in a bag and holding it to his eye. As he slumps on the couch, he feels his cat Gary climb onto his lap. The tabby chirps at him, and Bobby nods his head, hugging Gary to him.

“Oh Gare-Bear,” the boy sighed, “How do I get myself into these situations time and time again?” The hand that wasn’t occupied with holding an ice-bag to his eye scratched the cat’s head. In response, Gary purred, and simultaneously meowed, as though responding to the boy. 

“I didn’t want trouble, I’m the boy in the bubble, but then came trouble…”

Bobby Porter does not get into fights. People see him as the consistently optimistic boy who is too naive. But his temper at times flares, and the one thing he will absolutely not stand for is people being rude to his friends. 

Of course, maybe approaching William Fitzgerald while he was surrounded by his posse of friends might not have been the smartest choice. But watching alongside Patrick and Sandy as his buddy Edward was basically publicly humiliated was not okay. Maybe the furthest thing from it, in all honesty. 

So Bobby did what he thought was right and marched forward. As he recalls Pat grabbing his arm in an effort to stop Bobby, the boy lifts his chin slightly, still adamant that his decision was right. 

"When my mom walked into the living room, she said, "Boy, you gotta tell me what they did to you," I said, "You don't wanna know the things I had to do" she said, "Son, you gotta tell me why you're black and blue…"

Bobby remembers the surprise that passed over Williams' face before he disguised it with disdain. 

"You need to leave Edward alone now." He had said through gritted teeth. 

"Oh really? And why is that?" The pretentious musician replied, arching an eyebrow. 

With a brief glance at Eddy, Bobby felt his anger strengthen. A crowd had begun forming, and he wasn't sure where Pat and Sandy were at that moment. "Because Edward is by far the most talented person ever, more talented than your pretentious self could ever be." Bobby spat the words out, and relished the surprise flitting on the taller guy's face. 

His satisfaction was short lived, however. The next thing Bobby remembers is the feeling of something hitting his eye and him falling backwards. A nervous hush fell over the crowd as they waited for Bobby to retaliate. 

"I said I didn't want trouble, I'm the boy in the bubble, but then came trouble…"

Bobby scrambled to his feet and threw a right hook at William. Logically speaking, Bobby knew that it likely was not William who punched him, but he knew this was the musicians fault. 

William stumbled back, cursing out Bobby as he clutched his cheek. 

"And my heart was pumping, chest was screaming, mind was running, air was freezing, put my hands up, put my hands up, I told this kid I'm ready for a fight…"

There's a knock at the door that startles Bobby out of his daze. Gary hops off his lap and trots to the door, sticking his head out the little cat door he had installed. 

He knew Patrick and Sandy were likely the ones outside. He also knew they didn't agree with how he'd handled things. But he picked himself off the chair and opened the door, and was surprised when he saw Edward there as well. So surprised, he accidentally lowered the bag of ice. 

Sandy winced and Pat looked away. Eddy looked down at his shoes, his clarinet case clutched in his hand. Flushing with embarrassment, Bobby steps aside and gestures for them to enter. "Bobby, Eddy here has got somethin' to tell ya." Sandy broke the silence, glancing at Eddy with a nod. 

Curious, Bobby leaned forward in his chair. Ed rolls his eyes and looks away "Thank you for standing up for me. And...I'm sorry about earlier." 

"Punch my face, do it 'cause I like the pain, every time you curse my name, I know you want the satisfaction, it's not gonna happen…"

After hitting William, Bobby saw another fist flying at him, and ducked out of the way, and directly into a different hand. This time, however, Bobby didn't fall back. Instead, before his attacker could pull his hand back all the way, Bobby had grabbed a hold of his wrist and managed to pin it behind the guys back. 

The idea of kicking this guy briefly fled through Bobby's head, but instead Bobby shoved the guy away, flinching when he touched his cheek and it came back slightly red. 

As Bobby went to retrieve his backpack he'd dropped, he heard Eddy mumble "I didn't ask you to do that." 

The shorter boy spun around, head slightly tilted to meet Eddy's gaze. "Eddy, how is it that this is my fault now? I stood up for you, I didn't see anyone else do that. I thought I did something good." Bobby stormed away after, entirely wrapped up in the overwhelming exhaustion and pain. 

"Knock me out, kick me when I'm on the ground…" 

Peering at Edward before slumping in his chair, Bobby shrugged. "It's not too big a deal, because I think it was the right thing to do." 

Mostly because Bobby couldn't see from his left eye, he didn't realize Patrick was kneeling at his side until he felt his best friend's hand gently tugging at the bag. 

Defenses instantly raised, Bobby pulled away. He felt guilty at the heartbroken way Pat looked. "I— Patrick, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it in any way, I just…" Bobby bit his lip and looked down. 

Bobby stood, and in a whisper, said "please, could you guys leave me alone for now?" He moved toward the door, intending to go on a walk, but Sandy appeared before him. So he backed away, only to bump into Pat. "Don't you get it lil' dude?" Sandy giggled. 

"You aren't going anywhere." Patrick finished for Sandy, and wrapped his arms around Bobby. 

Noticing Eddy trying to exit the scene, Sandy pulled him into the hug, trapping him in the embrace. 

"It's only gonna let you down, come the lightning and the thunder, you're the one who'll suffer, suffer…"

Content in knowing that his friends weren't mad at him, Bobby allowed himself to feel the swell of genuine love for his friends, and addition to the feelings he's already felt for Sandy and Pat. But that's for another time.  

In the end, he surmised, it doesn't really matter what anyone wants to tell me because these people mean the world to me. 

Like my spongebob fics? Read more in The Sun Is Still Shining on AO3

are u ready to rumble?

i accidentally deleted my blog so I’m reposting this hugo/damien fic!

hope its as good the second time around haha

request fic here

(if you’ve already requested something from me for dream daddy, i’m already working on it so don’t worry!)

-

“So, when are you going to tell him?”

Fionn’s question made Damien pause just beyond the doorway. He said it so slyly, full of weight and mirth and heavy with meaning that Damien immediately feels a pang of panic in the centre of his chest.

He’d only stepped outside of the sitting room for a moment, to grab some fresh cups of tea. It had become a thing now, weekly afternoon tea in his sitting room. Sometimes it was just him and Hugo; other times Fionn would join or Robert or Mary. It was usually a quiet affair in any case, but the company in his home always made the place feel less empty. He loved the grandeur of his home, the high ceilings and aged architecture but he had to admit that when Lucien was at school, things were far too quiet.

With this feeling in his stomach, maybe he was starting to wish it had stayed quiet.

Hugo was quick to hush him. “I…I haven’t decided yet.”

Was it about him? Damien wondered.

Fionn huffed. “Dude, you need to tell him.”

“No, I don’t,” Hugo retorted.

Fionn wasn’t to be persuaded into silence. “It’s a part of who you are.”

“Stop-”

“Damien would understand.”

Damien’s fingers tightened around the tea tray. Definitely about him then. Hugo adamant reluctance on this, whatever it was, hit far too close to him. They were still new; their relationship was still something to be defined – months of uncertainty and a fear of emotional vulnerability had them dancing around each other until finally, one cheese board and a tad too much wine and words had split from loosened lips.

That was 124 days ago. (Not that Damien was counting).

And those had been good. He thought they were good.

Apparently not.

“It’s not about understanding, it’s-” Hugo stopped short, inhaled sharply before continuing, “I’ve kept it to myself for so long. You’re the first person I’ve shared it with.”

Another low blow, right in his gut. Hugo felt he could share with Fionn more than he could share with his boyfriend.

“And the second person should be Damien.” A long pause and, “Hey, dude, seriously. Just tell him. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

There was a silence, and Damien gathered himself close. He plastered a mask of pleasantries and clattered the tea tray. So, what if some of the tea splashed over the rim of the cup? Who cares about spilled tea when your boyfriend didn’t trust you with his secrets?

The afternoon continued but the thoughts of what exactly he had done wrong couldn’t stop plaguing Damien’s mind. He watched Hugo whenever he could, took in his soft visage and sweet smile, remembered the kisses they had shared that morning and the way that Hugo had held him and tried not to let what he was feeling show.

Maybe it worked. Fionn clapped him on the back when he left and Hugo entangled his fingers in the back of Damien’s hair when he kissed him.

“I have papers to grade,” Hugo murmured into his skin. His fingers burnt a trail on the back of Damien’s neck and brought goosebumps to the surface. “Are we still on for dinner tomorrow?”

Damien didn’t trust himself to speak. He simply nodded and drew Hugo back, the slide of lips wet and slow, the kind that made Damien’s toes curl.

When Hugo left, his lips were swollen and his eyes blown and his shirt untucked. “Tomorrow,” his voice was thick with promise.

Damien held himself. “Tomorrow.”

And then the door shut, and the thoughts the kisses had chased away were back in full force. Hugo didn’t trust him.

Damien scrubbed a hand down his face. He was being stupid, he knew he was, but the feeling was there and it could not be ignored. It stayed with him, like lead in his stomach, and made it hard to sleep when night finally fell.

-

Dinner was great. Hugo was a gentleman, pulled out chairs and held his hand over the table and recited poetry. He enjoyed it anyways, flexing his literary knowledge but with Damien, the way he became flustered with every suggestive line was a source of endless amusement.

“You look so cute when you blush,” Hugo teased and stroked his thumb along the back of Damien’s hand affectionately.

He did that a lot and honestly, Damien liked the contact. He would slide his foot between Hugo’s just to feel the press of his shoes against. He would sit too close in the back of the cab so that their thighs pressed together. He played with the end of his collar when he pulled Hugo in for a kiss.

He did that very thing on Hugo’s doorstep, started on his collar, slipping to his lapels and then drifting under to the expanse of his back stretched under his shirt. Hugo sighed into their press of lips, fingers flexing against Damien’s hips.

“I enjoyed tonight,” Damien whispered. “I enjoyed spending time with you.”

Neither of them would ever ask if the other wants to spend the night. They never would, not whilst their children were home. Sometimes were more important. So, when Damien pulled away, he was fully prepared for this to be the end of the evening.

The insecurities of the day before didn’t feel so strong and if nothing else, he felt determined that he would be worthy. He’d prove himself to be worthy of knowing Hugo’s secret, whatever it may be.

One strategy he had debated was seducing him with kisses but he genuinely didn’t think it would work until Hugo’s voice called back out to him as he made to cross the street back home.

Hugo stood in his doorway, his uncertain expression clear in the porch lights. His shoulders were hunched forward and he twiddled his thumbs through nerves.

“Do you…” he stammered, before straightening his back to stand up taller. His eyebrows furrowed with determination. “I have something to show you.”

“Okay…” Damien replied and took small steps back.

Hugo opened his home and gestured him inside. As Damien stepped over the threshold, he couldn’t help thinking there was no going back. He shuffled further into the hall and Hugo shut the door behind them. Damien hadn’t gotten very far so Hugo was right behind him.

“We have to be quiet,” Hugo murmured, his hot breath brushing Damien’s cheek, “Ernest is asleep upstairs.”

Maybe or maybe not. They both knew that the boy had a tendency to sneak out in the middle of the night, although things had been different since Princess Cordelia had come into his life. The dog herself wasn’t supposed to sleep in Ernest’s room but since she was not in her usual haunt – right at the top of the stairs so that it was hard to walk – chances are that’s where she had been smuggled to.

Hugo led him up the stairs and down the hall. Damien was careful to avoid the creaky step just outside the bathroom door. When Hugo came to a stop, it was outside a closed door. Damien had seen it before, but he’d never considered it any more than a spare room. He glanced at Hugo from the corner of his eye and waited.

Hugo seemed to hesitate, reaching for the handle and pulling away before he reached out to actually wrap his hands around the knob.

“Just…” he started and then stopped as if he had no idea what he wanted the sentence to be. He looked lost, a little panicked, a lot worried. Damien offered what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Hugo let out a long exhale and then pressed down until the door swung open.

The room was dark, only the hallway light behind them even trying to cast any kind of illumination into the room. Hugo took a step in and then glanced backward, jerked his hand to usher Damien forward and he obeyed.

The door clicked shut behind them, dosing them into darkness.

Damien’s breath caught in his throat. “Hugo…” he tried to keep his voice steady.

Some fumbling and a hand gripped his wrist, slipped downwards and intertwined their fingers. He squeezed and gave Damien strength.

And then the lights switched on.

No more shadows of monsters or beasties of the night. They were replaced with glass cabinets and stands with glinting metal and posters carefully stuck to every free space on the wall.

It took a moment before Damien could take them in properly and figure out what was happening.

The glass cabinets held costumes, perfectly preserved. The glinting metal was medals and comically huge belts. The posters were covered with bold writing and people in spandex.

Wrestlers.

Damien blinked once. Twice. He turned to look at Hugo, who was pointedly not looking at him.

“This is…yours?” Damien started.

Hugo cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Yes.”

“So, you like wrestling?”

“Quite a bit.”

Damien felt his lips twitch upwards, already curling into a smile. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

Hugo’s shoulders visibly hunched into himself, like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. “It’s embarrassing,” he mumbled, “I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

Damien couldn’t help himself – he laughed. It came from his belly, forced its way up his throat and out his mouth in a sound that could almost be described as hysterical. The more he laughed, the more he couldn’t stop himself.

Hugo was frowning at him, hurt reflected in his eyes and even through his snorts, Damien had to reach out and kiss it away.

“Think less of you? How ridiculous,” Damien stated, “How could I ever think less of you?”

Hugo’s eyes widened slightly and his mouth dropped open. Damien took it upon himself to tug Hugo’s bottom lip between his teeth and suck on it. It made Hugo’s eyes fluttered, a breathy moan escape into the space between them and, most importantly, the tension relax from his shoulders. Damien touched them with his free hand – because he wasn’t willing to release Hugo’s other hand – and stroked along the shoulder seam of his shirt.

“Do you think less of me because of my love of the Victorian era?” Damien questioned.

Hugo was quick to deny this, shaking his head quickly and firmly insisting, “I would never.”

The honesty made Damien’s heart flutter and his smile widen to the point where his cheeks were hurting. Not that he cared. “Then believe me when I say, your passion – whatever that passion is for – makes you beautiful to me.”

Hugo went pink, the tips of his ears brightening and his cheeks burning.

“You look cute when you blush,” Damien teased and then laughed when Hugo pulled him close to kiss him again.

“I suppose Fionn was right,” he murmured.

Damien shook his head and his hair bounced. “Let’s not tell him. He’ll be impossible to live with.”

“Deal,” Hugo sealed the promise with a kiss.

prompt: (takes place after 4x05 but just pretending like the fight and yousef/noora never happened🤧🤧) sana gets into a bad bad bad fight with vilde ( because of the islamophobic things she keeps saying) and goes home afterward and maybe she's hurt or something. the whole ballook squad is there and they take care of her and confront vilde! do what you want with this prompt i know you can make something beautiful out of his messy idea:-)

Hii! 

Thank you so much for trusting me with your idea

I hope you don’t mind that I focused more on the balloon squad confronting Vilde than on them taking care of Sana, but there’s a reason. I received another prompt kind of about that and I don’t want them to be exactly the same so I took the defending Sana idea and focused on that. Of course they’re taking care of her too. Also I added a tiny Yousana bit because well, I’m me and I can’t help myself, I really hope you don’t mind.

Also I set it in 4x05 and not after ‘cause I feel like it could be a good opportunity to have everyone in the same place. I really hope you don’t think I’ve messed up too much

I really hope you like the fic and that I don’t diappoint you.

Also I wanted to say some things before all of you read this:

1) I’m not trying to demonize Vilde, just following the prompt and trying to keep her on character. I mean, she’s not the most thoughtful person we know

2) I really hope no one feels disrespected about the comment I chosed for Vilde to say. I just wanted to pick something that would affect Sana so I went back to the kind of comments season 1 and 2 Vilde would say. I really hope you don’t feel upset or disrespected ‘cause that was not my intention and I’m really sorry if you do feel like that.

Well, that’s it I really really hope you like it! 

———————-x————————

“Honestly, Vilde, I’m so done with you”

She had triedto be patient with her, she had given her the benefit of the doubt so manytimes, but still there she was again with her comments.

“Sana!” sheheard her calling her name but she was already leaving the karaoke place, shedidn’t want to cause a scene and she knew that if she stayed she wouldn’t beable to control herself, not anymore.

Sheslammed the door opened and got outside focusing only on getting out of thereand arriving home as soon as it was humanly possible. That’s why she didn’t realizethat there were five boys looking at her confused.

“Sana? Where are you going? What’s going on?” Elias asked approaching his sisterfollowed by the rest of the group.

She stoppedwalking and looked at them

“Nothing, I’m fine” she sighed “I just want to go home”

“You don’t look fine” Yousef said “What happened in there?”

“Nothing, I just…” she started but was interrupted by certain blonde that had just exitedthe karaoke club

“Sana!”

“Seriously Vilde, I don’t want to fight so just leave me alone” Sana spat at her

“Okay,okay, calm down, both of you�� Elias said trying to meddle between them “Whathappened?”

“Just Vilde being Vilde and not being able to keep her mouth shut” Sana said

“What did you say?” Yousef asked squinting.

“Nothing!”Vilde tried to defend herself

“Nothing?”Sana laughed sarcastically “Nothing. Of course, nothing”

“I only suggested Sana that when we’re alone with the pepsimax girls shecould stop wearing her hijab, I mean there would only be us girls, she wouldn’tneed to wear it”Vilde said innocently.

As soonas the words left her mouth five voices started to sound. All of the members ofthe Balloon Squad, even Adam, Mikael and Mutta who had been trying to stay awayfrom the confrontation since they didn’t want to pry, began to say stuff toVilde from “Not cool” to “What the hell?”

“Wow, guys, it’s not that big of a deal, it was just a suggestion” Vilde said

“Are you for real?” Elias asked, then he turned to his sister “Is she for real?”

Sanaonly gave him an exasperated look.

“If you don’t like the idea you can just say it, Sana, you don’t have tothrow your brother and his friends at me” Vilde said rolling her eyes

“Throw us at you?” Adam asked not believing what he was hearing

“What do you think we are? Dogs?” Yousef added

“Girl, we’re only reacting like anyone would if they hear what you’resaying” Muttatried to make her understand

“I don’t see how what I said was so offensive”

“I can’t believe this” Mikael said covering his face with his hand

“Okay, okay, let’s hear her out. Come on, tell us what your thinkingbehind that comment was” Elias said almost laughing at the absurd of the situation

“I only wanted Sana to be more comfortable, to fit in” Vilde argued

“And you don’t think she can be comfortable andfit in just the way she is?” Yousef said “You’re her friend, you’re supposed to love her no matter what”

“I do, I just wanted her to know that she’s not forced to wear that withus” Vilde said

“For the last time Vilde, no one is forcing me to wear it! I wear itbecause I want to. Can’t you understand that?” Sana said almost losing her temper

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Okay”

“You better be” Yousef said shaking his head

“Jeez, I didn’t think you would react like this” Vilde said

“Maybe that’s your problem Vilde, you don’t think before talking” Elias told her

“Justforget about it. It’s not worth it” Sana said “I just want to go home”

“Then we’re all going home” Elias said

“You don’t have to”

“Hey, you’re going, we’re going” Yousef told her smiling

Shelooked at the rest of the boys and all of them nodded at her

“Sana I don’t want you to be mad at me” Vilde said

“I’m not mad Vilde, I’m just tired” Sana answered and then she turned around andleft with the balloon squad by her side

“I honestly can’t believe that girl” Elias said as they entered the Bakkoush’s.

All of them took off their shoes and enteredthe living room. Sana sat on one of the couches with Mikael by her side. In thecouch in front of it, Elias, Adam and Mutta tried to fit in. Lastly, Yousef saton the floor with his back against the boy’s couch so that he would be facingSana’s and Mikael’s.

“Eventually you get used to that kind of things” Sana sighed

“Well you shouldn’t” Mutta said

“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s do some other thing”

“I have an idea. Sana you’re smart” Adam said

“Well, I like to think so, yeah” she smiled

“Why don’t you help us figure out the nexttopics for our videos? I’m sure you’ll have better ideas than your brother”

“Hey!”Elias argued

“Sorry, man but he’s right. Sana’s way smarter than you” Mikael added

Sana couldn’t help but smile. Those boys, notonly they had defended her like she was their sister but they were alwaysreally kind to her and make her feel welcomed among them.

“Accept it Elias, your friends like me morethan they like you” Sana said laughing

“I certainly do” Yousef said looking at her

Sana looked back at him and smiled as wide asshe could, biting her lip in embarrassment when she saw all of the boys staringat them.

“Okay, if I’m going to help you we needsomething to eat first. I’ll be right back” she said standing up

“I’ll help you” Yousef immediately said getting on his feet

“I’ll go too” Adam added trying to stand up but he wasstopped by Elias’ hand on his arm

“Let Yousef go, I think they’ll be fine ontheir own” hesaid

A unison “ohhh” filled the room making Sanablush.

“Shut up” she said glaring at the boys before turningaround to go to the kitchen.

“Sorry about that” Yousef said embarrassed as heentered the room

“It’s okay, they’re kids” she said rolling her eyes actinglike her heart wasn’t pounding as fast as humanly possible on her chest

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked looking at her “Aboutthe Vilde thing”

She nodded. He raised her eyebrows notbelieving her.

“Yes, I’m okay”

“Sure?”

“What can I say? I’m used to that comments. Idon’t know why I exploded today when I’ve been hearing  them for a long time, I guess I was justtired”

“You shouldn’t be used to that”

“I know she doesn’t mean to hurt me, she’s nota bad person…she just doesn’t think”

“How can you be so amazing?” he whispered more to himself thanfor her to hear it

She tried to contain the smile but she couldn’t.He smiled back at her and looked at her more tenderly than he had ever had.

“Your friend hurt you and here you are,defending her ‘cause that’s who you are. You’re this selfless person thatalways put others first.” He bit his lip before continuing “You’reamazing Sana, and no one should ever make you feel any other way”

She was speechless, the honesty in his voicestruck her and all she could do was stare at his eyes and get lost in them,just as he was getting lost in hers. The moment was interrupted by a voice thatcame from the living room.

“Hey, lovebirds, we’re still waiting that food” Elias said

“Can I say that my brother’s an ass and stillbe amazing?”Sana asked Yousef rolling her eyes

“I think that makes you even more amazing” he said laughing and they both gotto work, they had four boys to feed.

————————————————x——————————–

So this is it!

I really hope you’ve liked it and that I haven’t disappointed you

Again I’m sorry if this upsets anyone

Thank you so so much for reading!!

Next promp will be written probably tomorrow morning ‘cause I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it this evening after classes even though I’ll try

Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for Wednesday, April 21 of 2021 with Proverbs 21 and Psalm 21, accompanied by Psalm 33 for the 33rd day of Spring and Psalm 111 for day 111 of the year

[Proverbs 21]

[God Is the Source of Wisdom]

It’s as easy for God to steer a king’s heart for his purposes

as it is for him to direct the course of a stream.

We may think we’re right all the time,

but God thoroughly examines our motives.

It pleases God more when we demonstrate godliness and justice

than when we merely offer him a sacrifice.

Arrogance, superiority, and pride are the fruits of sin.

Brilliant ideas pay off and bring you prosperity,

but making hasty, impatient decisions

will only lead to financial loss.

You can make a fortune dishonestly,

but your crime will hold you in the snares of death!

Violent rebels don’t have a chance,

for their rejection of truth and their love of evil

will drag them deeper into darkness.

You can discern that a person is guilty by his devious actions

and the innocence of a person by his honest, sincere ways.

It’s better to live all alone in a rickety shack

than to share a castle with a crabby spouse!

The wicked always crave what is evil;

they’ll show no mercy and get no mercy.

Senseless people learn their lessons the hard way,

but the wise are teachable.

A godly, righteous person has the ability

to bring the light of instruction to the wicked

even though he despises what the wicked do.

If you close your heart to the cries of the poor,

then I’ll close my ears when you cry out to me!

Try giving a secret gift to the one who is angry with you

and watch his anger disappear.

A kind, generous gift goes a long way

to soothe the anger of one who is livid.

When justice is served,

the lovers of God celebrate and rejoice,

but the wicked begin to panic.

When you forsake the ways of wisdom,

you will wander into the realm of dark spirits.

To love pleasure for pleasure’s sake

will introduce you to poverty.

Indulging in a life of luxury

will never make you wealthy.

The wicked bring on themselves

the very suffering they planned for others,

for their treachery comes back to haunt them.

It’s better to live in a hut in the wilderness

than with a crabby, scolding spouse!

In wisdom’s house you’ll find delightful treasures

and the oil of the Holy Spirit.

But the stupid squander what they’ve been given.

The lovers of God who chase after righteousness

will find all their dreams come true:

an abundant life drenched with favor

and a fountain that overflows with satisfaction.

A warrior filled with wisdom ascends into the high place

and releases breakthrough,

bringing down the strongholds of the mighty.

Watch your words and be careful what you say,

and you’ll be surprised by how few troubles you’ll have.

An arrogant man is inflated with pride—

nothing but a snooty scoffer in love with his own opinion.

Mr. Mocker is his name!

Taking the easy way out is the habit of a lazy man,

and it will be his downfall.

All day long he thinks about all the things that he craves,

for he hasn’t learned the secret that the generous man has learned:

extravagant giving never leads to poverty.

To bring an offering to God with an ulterior motive is detestable,

for it amounts to nothing but hypocrisy.

No one believes a notorious liar,

but the guarded words of an honest man stand the test of time.

The wicked are shameless and stubborn,

but the lovers of God have a holy confidence.

All your brilliant wisdom and clever insight

will be of no help at all if the Lord is against you.

You can do your best to prepare for the battle,

but ultimate victory comes from the Lord God.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 21 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 21]

For the worship leader. A song of David.

The king is glad because You, O Eternal, are strong.

In light of Your salvation, he is singing Your name.

You have given him all he could wish for.

After hearing his prayer, You withheld nothing.

[pause]

True blessings You lavished upon the king;

a crown of precious gold You placed upon his head.

His prayer was to live fully. You responded with even more—

a never-ending life to enjoy.

With Your help, his fame and glory have grown;

You raise him high and cover him in majesty.

You shower him with blessings that last forever;

he finds joy in knowing Your presence and loving You.

For the king puts his trust in the Eternal,

so he will not be shaken

because of the persistent love of the Most High God.

King, your hand will reach for all your enemies;

your right hand will seize all who hate you.

When you arrive at the battle’s edge,

you will seem to them a furnace.

For the fire of the Eternal’s anger, the heat of His wrath

will burn and consume them.

You will cut off their children,

lop off the branches of their family tree.

The earth will never know them,

nor will they ever be numbered among Adam’s kin.

When they scheme against you,

when they conspire their mischief, such efforts will be in vain.

At the sight of you, they will sound the retreat;

your bows, drawn back, will aim directly at their faces.

Put Your strength, Eternal One, on display for all to see;

we will sing and make music of Your mighty power.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 21 (The Voice)

[Psalm 33]

Release your heart’s joy in sweet music to the Eternal.

When the upright passionately sing glory-filled songs to Him, everything is in its right place.

Worship the Eternal with your instruments, strings offering their praise;

write awe-filled songs to Him on the 10-stringed harp.

Sing to Him a new song;

play each the best way you can,

and don’t be afraid to be bold with your joyful feelings.

For the word of the Eternal is perfect and true;

His actions are always faithful and right.

He loves virtue and equity;

the Eternal’s love fills the whole earth.

The unfathomable cosmos came into being at the word of the Eternal’s imagination, a solitary voice in endless darkness.

The breath of His mouth whispered the sea of stars into existence.

He gathers every drop of every ocean as in a jar,

securing the ocean depths as His watery treasure.

Let all people stand in awe of the Eternal;

let every man, woman, and child live in wonder of Him.

For He spoke, and all things came into being.

A single command from His lips, and all creation obeyed and stood its ground.

The Eternal cripples the schemes of the other nations;

He impedes the plans of rival peoples.

The Eternal’s purposes will last to the end of time;

the thoughts of His heart will awaken and stir all generations.

The nation whose True God is the Eternal is truly blessed;

fortunate are all whom He chooses to inherit His legacy.

The Eternal peers down from heaven

and watches all of humanity;

He observes every soul

from His divine residence.

He has formed every human heart, breathing life into every human spirit;

He knows the deeds of each person, inside and out.

A king is not delivered by the might of his army.

Even the strongest warrior is not saved by his own strength.

A horse is not the way to victory;

its great strength cannot rescue.

Listen, the eye of the Eternal is upon those who live in awe of Him,

those who hope in His steadfast love,

That He may save them from the darkness of the grave

and be kept alive during the lean seasons.

We live with hope in the Eternal. We wait for Him,

for He is our Divine Help and Impenetrable Shield.

Our hearts erupt with joy in Him

because we trust His holy name.

O Eternal, drench us with Your endless love,

even now as we wait for You.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 33 (The Voice)

[Psalm 111]

Praise the Eternal.

I will thank Him with all my heart

in the presence of the right-standing and with the assembly.

The works of the Eternal are many and wondrous!

They are examined by all who delight in them.

His work is marked with beauty and majesty;

His justice has no end.

His wonders are reminders that

the Eternal is gracious and compassionate to all.

He provides food to those who revere Him.

He will always remember His covenant.

He has shown the mighty strength of His works to His people

by giving the land of foreign nations to them.

All His accomplishments are truth and justice;

all His instructions are certain.

His precepts will continue year in and year out,

performed by His people with honesty and truth.

He has redeemed His people,

guaranteeing His covenant forever.

His name is holy and awe-inspiring.

Reverence for the Eternal is the first step toward wisdom.

All those who worship Him have a good understanding.

His praise will echo through eternity!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 111 (The Voice)

Golf Quotes

Official Website: Golf Quotes

  • A kid grows up a lot faster on the golf course. Golf teaches you how to behave. – Jack Nicklaus • Achievements on the golf course are not what matters, decency and honesty are what matter. – Tiger Woods • All I do is play music and golf – which one do you want me to give up? – Willie Nelson • All I’ve got against golf is it takes you so far from the clubhouse. – Eric Linklater • Anybody who plays golf will tell you that you play against yourself. – Martin Sheen • At first a golfer excuses a dismal performance by claiming bad lies. With experience, he covers up with better ones. – Lee P. Brown

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• Baseball players quit playing and they take up golf. Basketball players quit, take up golf. Football players quit, take up golf. What are we supposed to take up when we quit? – George Archer • But in the end it’s still a game of golf, and if at the end of the day you can’t shake hands with your opponents and still be friends, then you’ve missed the point. – Payne Stewart • Competitive golf is played mainly on a five-and-a-half-inch course… the space between your ears. – Bobby Jones • Give me golf clubs, fresh air and a beautiful partner, and you can keep the clubs and the fresh air. – Jack Benny • Golf and sex are about the only things you can enjoy without being good at it. – Jimmy Demaret • Golf appeals to the idiot in us and the child. Just how childlike golf players become is proven by their frequent inability to count past five. – John Updike • Golf combines two favorite American pastimes: taking long walks and hitting things with a stick. – P. J. O’Rourke • Golf gives you an insight into human nature, your own as well as your opponent’s. – Grantland Rice • Golf is 20 percent mechanics and technique. The other 80 pecent is philosophy, humor, tragedy, romance, melodrama, companionship, camaraderie, cussedness and conversation. – Grantland Rice • Golf is 20 percent talent and 80 percent management. – Ben Hogan • Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness. – William Wordsworth • Golf is a difficult game, but it’s a little easier if you trust your instincts. It’s too hard a game to try to play like someone else. – Nancy Lopez • Golf is a game in which one endeavors to control a ball with implements ill adapted for the purpose. – Woodrow Wilson • Golf is a game that is played on a five-inch course – Bobby Jones • Golf is a game whose aim is to hit a very small ball into an ever smaller hole, with weapons singularly ill-designed for the purpose – Winston Churchill • Golf is a game you can never get too good at. You can improve, but you can never get to where you master the game. – Gay Brewer • Golf is a good walk spoiled. – Mark Twain • Golf is a hard game to figure. One day you will go out and slice it and shank it, hit into all the traps and miss every green. The next day you go out and, for no reason at all, you really stink. – Bob Hope • Golf is a puzzle without an answer. – Gary Player • Golf is a puzzle without an answer. I’ve played the game for 40 years and I still haven’t the slightest idea how to play. – Gary Player • Golf is an indispensable adjunct to high civilisation. – Andrew Carnegie • Golf is an open exhibition of overweening ambition, courage deflated by stupidity, skill soured by a whiff of arrogance. – Alistair Cooke • Golf is deceptively simple and endlessly complicated. – Arnold Palmer • Golf is deceptively simple and endlessly complicated; it satisfies the soul and frustrates the intellect. It is at the same time rewarding and maddening – and it is without a doubt the greatest game mankind has ever invented. – Arnold Palmer • Golf is good for the soul. You get so mad at yourself you forget to hate your enemies. – Will Rogers • Golf is like a chain. You always have to work on the weakest links. – George Archer • Golf is like love. One day you think you are too old and the next day you want to do it again. – Roberto De Vicenzo • Golf is not a fair game, so why build a course fair? – Pete Dye • Golf is not, and never has been, a fair game. – Jack Nicklaus • Golf is not, on the whole, a game for realists. By its exactitudes of measurements it invites the attention of perfectionists. – Heywood Hale Broun • Golf is played by twenty million mature American men whose wives think they are out having fun. – Jim Bishop • Golf is said to be an humbling game, but it is surprising how many people are either not aware of their weaknesses of else reckless of consequences. – Bobby Jones • Golf is so popular simply because it is the best game in the world at which to be bad. – A. A. Milne • Golf is the cruelest game, because eventually it will drag you out in front of the whole school, take your lunch money and slap you around. – Rick Reilly • Golf is the most fun you can have with out taking your clothes off. – Chi Chi Rodriguez • Golf is the most useless outdoor game ever devised to waste the time and try the spirit of man. – Westbrook Pegler • Golf is the only sport I know of where a player pays for every mistake. A man can muff a serve in tennis, miss a strike in baseball, or throw an incomplete pass in football and still have another chance to square himself. In golf, every swing counts against you. – Lloyd Mangrum • Golf is the only-est sport. You’re completely alone with every conceivable opportunity to defeat yourself. Golf brings out your assets and liabilities as a person. The longer you play, the more certain you are that a man’s performance is the outward manifestation of who, in his heart, he really thinks he is. – Hale Irwin • Golf is very much like a love affair. If you don’t take it seriously, it’s no fun, if you do, it breaks your heart. Don’t break your heart, but flirt with the possibility. – Louise Suggs • Golf isn’t a game, it’s a choice that one makes with one’s life. – Charles Rosin • Golf puts a man’s character on the anvil and his richest qualities – patience, poise, restraint – to the flame. – Billy Casper • Golf seems to me an arduous way to go for a walk. I prefer to take the dogs out. – Anne, Princess Royal • Golf tips are like aspirin. One may do you good, but if you swallow the whole bottle you will be lucky to survive. – Harvey Penick • Golf, like measles, should be caught young. – P. G. Wodehouse • Half of golf is fun; the other half is putting. – Peter Dobereiner • Hockey is a sport for white men. Basketball is a sport for black men. Golf is a sport for white men dressed like black pimps. – Tiger Woods • How has retirement affected my golf game? A lot more people beat me now. – Dwight D. Eisenhower • I always like to see a person stand up to a golf ball as though he were perfectly at home in its presence. – Bobby Jones • I always said that if they have a golf course like this in heaven, I want to be the head pro. – Gary Player • I don’t want to play golf. When I hit a ball, I want someone else to go chase it. – Rogers Hornsby • I get to play golf for a living. What more can you ask for – getting paid for doing what you love. – Tiger Woods • I guess there is nothing that will get your mind off everything like golf. I have never been depressed enough to take up the game, but they say you get so sore at yourself you forget to hate your enemies. – Will Rogers • I had a wonderful experience on the golf course today. I had a hole in nothing. Missed the ball and sank the divot. – Don Adams • I have a tip that can take 5 strokes off anyone’s golf game. It’s called an eraser. – Arnold Palmer • I know I am getting better at golf because I am hitting fewer spectators. – Gerald R. Ford • I like to play golf. I like to shoot hoops. – Justin Timberlake • I like trying to win. That’s what golf is all about. – Jack Nicklaus • I never pray on a golf course. Actually, the Lord answers my prayers everywhere except on the course. – Billy Graham • I regard golf as an expensive way of playing marbles. – Gilbert K. Chesterton • I think that (Alister) MacKenzie and I managed to work as a completely sympathetic team. Of course there was never any question that he was the architect and I was the advisor and consultant. No man learns to design a golf course simply by playing golf, no matter how well. But it happened that both of us were extravagant admirers of the Old Course at St Andrews and we both desired as much as possible to simulate seaside conditions insofar as the differences in turf and terrain would allow. – Bobby Jones • I went to play golf and tried to shoot my age, but I shot my weight instead. – Bob Hope • I would like to deny all allegations by Bob Hope that during my last game of golf, I hit an eagle, a birdie, an elk and a moose. – Gerald R. Ford • If a lot of people gripped a knife and fork the way they do a golf club, they’d starve to death. – Sam Snead • If there is any larceny in a man, golf will bring it out. – Paul Gallico • If there’s a golf course in heaven, I hope it’s like Augusta National. I just don’t want an early tee time. – Gary Player • If you are caught on a golf course during a storm and are afraid of lightning, hold up a 1-iron. Not even God can hit a 1-iron. – Lee Trevino • If you really want to get better at golf, go back and take it up at a much earlier age. – Tom Mulligan • If you think golf is relaxing, you’re not playing it right. – Bob Hope • If you think it’s hard to meet new people, try picking up the wrong golf ball. – Jack Lemmon • If you watch a game, it’s fun. If you play it, it’s recreation. If you work at it, it’s golf. – Bob Hope • I’m a golfaholic, no question about that. Counseling wouldn’t help me. They’d have to put me in prison, and then I’d talk the warden into building a hole or two and teach him how to play. – Lee Trevino • I’m addicted. I’m addicted to golf. – Tiger Woods • I’m not feeling very well – I need a doctor immediately. Ring the nearest golf course. – Groucho Marx • In golf as in life, it’s the follow through that makes the difference. – Ben Wicks • In order to win, you must play your best golf when you need it most, and play your sloppy stuff when you can afford it. I shall not attempt to explain how you achieve this happy timing. – Bobby Jones • It is almost impossible to remember how tragic a place the world is when one is playing golf. – Robert Wilson Lynd • It is nothing new or original to say that golf is played one stroke at a time. But it took me many years to realize it. – Bobby Jones • It took me seventeen years to get three thousand hits in baseball. I did it in one afternoon on the golf course. – Hank Aaron • It’s good sportsmanship to not pick up lost golf balls while they are still rolling. – Mark Twain • I’ve always tried to play golf with a golf club. I have a hard time driving with my rifle. I mean, 18 is really narrow … I have no problem with the course, except for the tee shot on 18. – Jack Nicklaus • Keeping the head still is golf’s one universal, unarguable fundamental. – Jack Nicklaus • Like most professional golfers, I have a tendency to remember my poor shots a shade more vividly than the good ones. – Ben Hogan • Men who would face torture without a word become blasphemous at the short fourteenth. It is clear that the game of golf may well be included in that category of intolerable provocations which may legally excuse or mitigate behaviour not otherwise excusable. – A. P. Herbert • Middle age occurs when you are too young to take up golf and too old to rush up to the net. – Franklin P. Adams • No-one will ever have golf under his thumb. No round ever will be so good it could not have been better. Perhaps this is why golf is the greatest of games. You are not playing a human adversary; you a playing a game. You are playing old man par. – Bobby Jones • Nothing dissects a man in public quite like golf. – Brent Musburger • Nothing goes down slower than a golf handicap. – Bobby Nichols • One of the most fascinating things about golf is how it reflects the cycle of life. No matter what you shoot – the next day you have to go back to the first tee and begin all over again and make yourself into something. – Peter Jacobsen • One reason golf is such an exasperating game is that a thing we learned is so easily forgotten, and we find ourselves struggling year after year with faults we had discovered and corrected time and again. – Bobby Jones • One thing about golf is you don’t know why you play bad and why you play good. – George Archer • One thing I’ve learned over time is, if you hit a golf ball into water, it won’t float. – Arnold Palmer • Play it as it lies is one of the fundamental dictates of golf – Henry Beard • Playing golf is like chasing a quinine pill around a cow pasture. – Winston Churchill • Regardless of what the tour pros think, golf is a rich and varied game, and what all of us awkward fools do on weekends is what golf is truly all about. – Dan Jenkins • Relax? How can anybody relax and play golf? You have to grip the club, don’t you? – Ben Hogan • Reverse every natural instinct and do the opposite of what you are inclined to do, and you will probably come very close to having a perfect golf swing. – Ben Hogan • Sex and golf are the two things you can enjoy even if you’re not good at them. – Kevin Costner • Someone once told me that there is more to life than golf. I think it was my ex-wife. – Bruce Lansky • Success in golf depends less on strength of body than upon strength of mind and character. – Arnold Palmer • Sudden success in golf is like the sudden acquisition of wealth. It is apt to unsettle and deteriorate the character. – P. G. Wodehouse • Talking to a golf ball won’t do you any good, unless you do it while your opponent is teeing off. – Bruce Lansky • That’s the difference between golf and many other sports. You go to some other sporting events, they just leave you or give you the cold shoulder and move on. – Bernhard Langer • The best exercise for golfers is golfing. – Bobby Jones • The devoted golfer is an anguished soul who has learned a lot about putting, just as an avalanche victim has learned a lot about snow. – Dan Jenkins • The difference between golf and government is that in golf you can’t improve your lie. – George Deukmejian • The fun you get from golf is in direct ratio to the effort you don’t put into it. – Bob Allen • The game of golf would lose a great deal if croquet mallets and billiard cues were allowed on the putting green. – Ernest Hemingway • The golf swing is like a suitcase into which we are trying to pack one too many things. – John Updike • The main idea in golf as in life, I suppose is to learn to accept what cannot be altered and to keep on doing one’s own reasoned and resolute best whether the prospect be bleak or rosy. – Bobby Jones • The moment the average golfer attempts to play from long grass or a bunker or from a difficult lie of any kind, he becomes a digger instead of a swinger. – Bobby Jones • The most important shot in golf is the next one. – Ben Hogan • The only shots you can be sure of are those you’ve had already. – Byron Nelson • The only thing a golfer needs is more daylight. – Ben Hogan • The only time I talk on the golf course is to my caddie. And then only to complain when he gives me the wrong club. – Seve Ballesteros • The only time my prayers are never answered is on the golf course. – Billy Graham • The rewards of golf, and of life too I expect, are worth very little if you don’t play the game by the etiquette as well as by the rules. – Bobby Jones • The secret of golf is to turn three shots into two. – Bobby Jones • The terrible beauty is that in the brotherhood of golf we are all the same – certifiable. – Sean Connery • The uglier a man’s legs are, the better he plays golf – it’s almost a law. – H. G. Wells • There are three ways of learning golf: by study, which is the most wearisome; by imitation, which is the most fallacious; and by experience, which is the most bitter. – Robert Browning • There are two things you can do with your head down – play golf and pray. – Lee Trevino • There is no such thing as natural touch. Touch is something you create by hitting millions of golf balls. – Lee Trevino • There is one thing in this world that is dumber than playing golf. That is watching someone else playing golf. What do you actually get to see? Thirty-seven guys in polyester slacks squinting at the sun. Doesn’t that set your blood racing? – Peter Andrews • They call it golf because all the other four-letter words were taken. – Ray Floyd • They have been playing golf for 800 years and nobody has satisfactorily said why. – Alistair Cooke • They say golf came easy to me because I was a good athlete, but there’s not any girl on the LPGA Tour who worked near as hard as I did in golf. It’s the toughest game I ever tackled. – Babe Didrikson Zaharias • Watching Phil Mickelson play golf is like watching a drunk chasing a balloon near the edge of a cliff. – David Feherty • We have 51 golf courses in Palm Springs. He [President Ford] never decides which course he will play until after the first tee shot. – Bob Hope • We learn so many things from golf: how to suffer, for instance. – Bruce Lansky • While playing golf today, I hit two good balls. I stepped on a rake. – Henny Youngman • You must work very hard to become a natural golfer. – Gary Player

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