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#like I’ll be in the store and usually I’ll hear someone say it at least once
ms-musers · 2 years
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Clark Kent, trying to leave a gala he’s covering: Ope, just gonna squeeze right past you.
Bruce Wayne, who heard Superman say the same thing at a Justice League meeting that morning: No fucking way
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jockfootstories · 5 months
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“Oh shit, I totally forgot to get something at the store for my dad,” you hear your friend say as he puts the controller down. “Do you want to come with me or stay and try and finish this level?”   “I’ll stay,” you reply back. You watch your friend get up, slip on his shoes, and walk out of his bedroom. You hear the front door shut and continue on with the level.  Not 5 minutes go by that you hear the front door open back up and hear someone bounding up the stairs.  It can’t be your friend as he just left but suddenly hear from the door,”Hey, where’s Eric?” You recognize that voice as it’s your friends, older brother Brady. You respond back,”He had to run up to the store to get something for your dad that he forgot.”  Upon saying that, you get swarmed by enemies, and your character dies. Frustrated, you drop the controller, and fall back onto your backside. You peer back at the doorway and watch him step into the room toward you, stopping right behind your head. You immediately detect the odor of his feet, a medium dry cheesy smell emitting from them that usually makes his other friends gag. You look back at the tv then up at him and see him staring down at you like a giant. “You both really suck at this game,” he says down to you and glances back up at the tv. “Yah,” you agree, still looking up at him from the floor. He shifts his eyes back down at you, a sly grin coming over his lips, and quickly lifts one bare foot above your face. Before you can react, the center of it cushions down onto your nose, the warm bottom sinking into your face. That dry smell you picked up on has now intensified as you breathe in through your nostrils. You feel the soft sole wag slightly back and forth against your nose and feel it start moving around your complexion. You grunt some, moving your face to the side, but make no attempt to push the foot away with your hands. You feel him move his foot to the side, following your weak escape, and up-turn your face back to where it should be. He slowly guides his foot back up, smooshing it back down, determined to conquer you with its smell. You breathe in again and not sure why, you strangely feel a bit addicted to this. Being in this submissive state, letting him do this to you, you’re not sure what is happening. You feel the foot drag down, his plump toes, pressing down over your nostrils. You sniff in… a more powerful odor making your senses go nuts. You feel him rub the bottoms of them back and forth over your nostrils. He squeezes your nose some a few times as you take deeper sniffs and finally releases you, removing his foot. You move your face to the side a little and act like you’re catching your breathe. You look back up at the giant above you, seeing him grinning down at you in some satisfactory way. You start to lift your head up but he presses his other naked foot down onto your face, pushing you down. “Mmmmfffffphhh,” you get out as the foot engulfs you. He once again covers your nose with the bottom of his toes, and you hear him say,”Now smell.”  You obey, thinking he’s getting some sort of excitement from this or at least seeming to like the power trip from it. Knowing most everyone hates his foot smell and he see’s you laying there just taking it. You both suddenly hear the front door open downstairs and hear your friend call out that he’s back.  Brady briefly nudges your face with his entire sole then clamps his toes over your nostrils, shaking your face from side to side, before letting you go. He peers down at you, slowly nodding his head and grinning “Yahhh, you liked my foot smell in your face huh?”  He taps the side of your cheek with one foot before heading out of your friend’s bedroom.  You quickly lift yourself up and look at the tv dizzily. You faintly hear your friend complain about his brother’s foot stink as he grabs the controller off the floor.  You watch him game for a bit, realizing you have awakened some odd enjoyment to be foot dominated like that.
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shellyshellshell · 23 days
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Your Heart or Mine: Part Twelve
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Attn: Got some Sy for y’all this morning! Hope everyone enjoys!
Word Count: 2,158
Pairing: Sy x Reader
Summary: You and Sy adjust to life with him being deployed.
Warnings: 18+, racy photos, mutual masturbation, masturbation with a dildo (female receiving), video/phone sex, general angst
Previous Part:
Part Eleven
After Sy’s deployment you decided you would stay out on the ranch. Almost every evening when you came in from work someone, mostly Max, would be there waiting to take you up to the main house for dinner. It wasn’t the same as having Sy with you but it was nice they were including you. It was Thursday night and it was no different than any other, Max sat outside in his truck waiting for you while you got a quick shower. “Sorry that took so long. The air went out in the store today, and I was gross,” you told him. “No worries darlin’,” he drawled.
“H- have you heard from Sy yet?,” you asked him. “Not yet. Usually takes a week or so for them to get settled. You worried?,” he asked. “I am, and I miss him so much already,” you say somberly. He pulls up to the house and stops before turning his attention to you. “I know it’s hard. We’ve all been doin’ it for years now and it doesn’t get any easier, but he’s near the end of his career now at least Sugarplum. You know we’re all here for you dontcha?,” he then says, and you can feel yourself tearing up. “Yeah,” you squeak. “Shit,” he grumbles before getting out. When he comes around the truck he pulls you out and into a hug. “It’s okay,” he says soothingly.
“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to comfort me,” you say as you pull away. “Don’t be sorry sweetheart. I promised Sy I’d look after you while he was gone, and I’m not to make a liar outta myself. Plus he’d likely kick my ass. But anyway, you’re family now and we look after one another, alright?,” he tells you. You nod, not trusting yourself not to cry again if you try to speak, then follow Max up to the house. “Hey Sugarplum!,” Clarence booms as soon as you come into the house. “Hey,” you say as he pulls you in for a side hug. “You hungry sweetie? Max texted about the air goin’ out in the store. That had to be the worst!,” Ruthie says as she hugs you as well.
“I’m starved honestly. I didn’t slow down long enough to eat today, and for sure it was. That’s why we’re a little late today. I had to have a shower before I came up here. I smelled like a farm animal,” you said, making Dillon burst out into laughter. “Don’t be laughin’ boy you definitely smelled like a farm animal after workin’ all day,” Clarence chided. “Yeah, yeah. Just funny to imagine such a dainty thing smelling like a farm animal,” he chuckles. After that there’s casual conversation as usual while you all enjoy the meal Ruthie prepared. “I got cheesecake for dessert,” she then says. “I dunno if—,” you begin. “I’ll cut you a piece for later then,” she says without missing a beat.
Two more days passed and you finally heard from Sy. You were laid up in the bed, cuddling his pillow as you’d taken to doing lately, when your phone rang. “Hey Sugarplum. How you been?,” he asks. “Been doin’ okay. Better now I’m hearing your voice,” you admit. “Bein’ deployed ain’t never been this hard baby,” he sighs. “Yeah?,” you question. “I miss you so much it hurts. I didn’t ever think I’d feel such a thing,” he tells you. “Sy,” you say near tears. “Please don’t cry Sugarplum. God, I’d do anything to keep you from crying,” he then said. “I’ve been doin’ so much of it lately,” you say as you release a shaky breath and wipe your eyes. “What else you been doin’? Tell me everything,” he says. You tell him about work, the air going out, your nightly dinners with his family.
“Max told me he said he’d look after me while you were gone. He really doesn’t have to,” you say softly. “Yeah I didn’t really wanna ask, darlin’, but he offered no questions asked. Of course he ain’t gonna take care of you like I will, but I feel better knowin’ you’ve got somebody that I trust around if you need anything,” he tells you. “I trust him too. I know he’s younger than us but he kinda feels like the big brother I always wanted, and didn’t get of course with my idiot brother,” you say, making Sy chuckle. “Your mom decided we should have family game nights on Saturdays,” you then tell him. “Yeah? That sounds like fun. Hopefully y’all can keep it up and I can join in once I get back,” he tells you.
“What have you been up to?,” you ask him. “Just settin’ up base Sugarplum, and gettin’ everything together for our missions,” he says. “That sounds—,” you begin. “Borin’ as hell? It is, but I’ve got an important question to ask. You ready?,” he says. “Yeah, what is it?,” you ask anxiously. “Whatcha wearin’ baby?,” he questions. “You ass! I thought somethin’ was wrong,” you fuss as he laughs uproariously. “I’m sorry darlin’ but really…,” he trails off. “One of your T-shirts and some panties,” you tell him. “Damn,” he says huskily.
“Yeah? You need for me already?,” you tease. “Well of course. You know I can hardly go a day without my hands all over you baby,” he replies earnestly. “When do you get Skype privileges?,” you ask. “Not sure yet, but when I know you’ll be the first to know,” he tells you. “Yeah that could be fun huh?,” you say sultrily. “You’re killin’ me here Sugarplum,” he groans. “Sorry,” you giggle. “Hey I need to give you the address to base so we can write,” he says. “Yes you do. I wanna send you care packages and stuff too. That’s okay isn’t it?,” you ask as you pull out a pad and pen. “Of course it is. You ready?,” he says. “Yeah,” you reply before he gives you the address.
“Got it,” you tell him. “When you write you think you’d mind sending me some pictures? I found the one you put in my pocket, which is nice. I’d love some more,” he tells you. “Sure. What kind of pictures you want?,” you ask. “Anything you’re willin’ to send me baby,” he replies. “Noted,” you say and you can almost hear him smile. “I’d like one with you in one of those sundresses I love so much for sure, and maybe a titty pic,” he says making you laugh. “I’ve got you, just make sure you don’t open your mail in front of everybody,” you say, still laughing. “Of course not. Can’t have everybody seein’ what’s mine,” he says possessively. “That’s right,” you agree before you hear something in the background.
“Alright,” Sy says. “You have to go?,” you ask him. “Yeah Sugarplum I do, but I’ll call you again as soon as I can. I’m hopin’ tomorrow but if not at least the day after. I love you so much baby,” he tells you. “I love you so much too Sy,” you reply. “Talk to you later darlin’,” he says. “Talk later. Bye,” you say softly. “Bye for now darlin’,” he says before hanging up the phone, and just like that you feel like you can’t breathe anymore.
The days flow into months, and before you know it, it’s nearly Christmas. You and Sy have developed a pretty regular schedule of when he calls or Skypes so imagine your surprise when he Skypes you in the middle of the day. When you answer it you get an even bigger surprise. He’s sat there with his hard cock out stroking it furiously. You two had had plenty of phone and video sex but things never started off this way. “You tryin’ to kill me darlin’?,” he asks, never stopping jerking himself. “Sy what-,” you begin when he unravels the lace panties from his left hand. “Oh, so you got my package then?,” you smile.
“Fuck yes,” he groans. You’d been feeling adventurous and sent him a sexy photo shoot of yourself in some lingerie, stripping from said lingerie, and then fucking yourself on a dildo that you’d ordered solely because it was the one that reminded you of him the most. When it was all done, you snapped a nice closeup of how slick your pussy was, and that was the picture he was holding up now. “All of it was good, but this… I had to fuckin’ stop myself from lickin’ it,” he growled. “Sy,” you breathed becoming aroused. “Get naked baby. I love these picture but I want a live show. Ain’t seen you use that toy on yourself yet,” he huffs.
You do as he ask before pulling the dildo out of the bedside table drawer. “That’s it baby. Put it in for me,” he says. You’re already turned on from him playing with himself so unashamedly, so the toy slides right in. You let out a moan before you start working it in and out. “Fuck yes, that’s my girl,” he praises. “Mmm,” you whine. “Feel good Sugarplum?,” he asks. “Not as good as you,” you tell him as you cup one of your breasts. “I wish it was me. I wanna feel you so bad right now,” he whimpers. “I want that too. I want you Sy,” you tell him. “If I was there, I’d give you all you could stand of me baby. Fuck yourself harder, like I would,” he says.
You start moving the dildo and your hips faster and throw your head back as an airy moan pushes past your lips. “That’s it darlin’. You’re doin’ so good for me. Just a little more, want you to cum for me,” he slurs. “It’s… harder to come when it’s not you,” you pout. “Shit baby. Look at me. Just keep those pretty eyes on me. That’s it,” he tells you. You watch him as you fuck yourself and it’s easier to imagine it’s him. “Sy,” you gasp right before you clamp down on the dildo. You cry out as your pussy pulses and the sight of you sends Sy right over the edge, his spend gushing out all over his shirt. “Fuck,” he pants as he watches you pull the toy out. He can see the aftershocks of your orgasm making your cunt throb and he can feel his cock twitch as well.
“Did you like your Christmas present?,” you smile hazily. “Best fuckin’ present I’ve ever got baby, all of it. Thank you,” he says with a lopsided grin. After that the two of you talk. “So…,” Sy begins. “Uh oh. What’s on your mind?,” you ask him. “Am I that obvious darlin’?,” he chuckles. “A little bit,” you laugh. “What kinda rings you like?,” he then says turning the conversation serious. “Sy, it don’t matter baby. I’d marry you with a ring out of a vending machine as long as it came from you,” you tell him. “You’re definitely getting a diamond,” he replies quickly. “I’ll love whatever you get me,” you tell him. You did have your favorites, sure, but if he was going to insist on you having a diamond he was going to pick it himself. You wanted it to be special like that.
“Okay… now what are we naming our daughters?,” he then asks. “Daughters? We’re havin’ all girls huh?,” you giggle. “I want a house full of ‘em. All just like their mama,” he tells you and you feel your heart squeeze. “Well… I like the names Penelope, Violet, Mavis, Heather. What you think?,” you ask. “I like those,”he smiles dreamily. “What?,” you ask. “Just thinkin’ about you pregnant darlin’. Then with a baby,” he tells you. “Yeah? You like that huh?,” you ask him. “I want it all with you Sugarplum. I can’t wait till I’m home so we can start our forever,” he breathes. “I can’t wait either,” you smile.
Just then there’s a knock at Sy’s door. Luckily you two have gotten all cleaned up and have clothes on because the guy just barges in after knocking. “Johnny what the fuck?,” Sy barks. “Oh… OH. Sorry Captain I didn’t realize—,” he says motioning to the computer. “Yeah well next time just try some patience kid. Whatcha need?,” he then asks. “It’s time to get ready to head out and we didn’t know where you were. Hi ma’am,” Johnny says as he waves at you. “Hello,” you reply with a wave. “Alright. Let me get off here and I’ll be right out,” Sy says. “Yes sir,” Johnny says before leaving the room.
“Gotta go again,” you sigh. “I know baby. I’ll talk with you again soon as I can, okay?,” he says. You nod. “I love you Sy. Be careful,” you reply. “I love you too Sugarplum, and I will be,” he says. You blow him a kiss and with that he’s gone again.
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sunbaby01 · 7 months
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Sweeter than usual
Conrad Fisher x reader
“I’ll take care of this guys” Conrad flashed his fake ID around the car ignoring Jeremiah’s baffled “with that?” and the giggles coming from Belly and Emmy in the backseat.
It only took 5 minutes of then staring at the store in silence before Conrad came out the store empty handed.
“Oh, no. What, ID didn’t work Mr Herbertson?” Jeremiah leaned out the window mockingly at Conrad before winking at Belly who was also leaning out of her window too.
“Fuck off. At least I have one” Conrad drawled, raising his middle finger to emphasise his words. Emmy tried to ignore the way his attitude sent chills down her spine, really she did. Honest.
“What?” Jeremiah scoffed moving out the car, “listen, it’s cause I don’t need one all right? Jumper and I are tight, we’re like bros. C’mon how hard could it be?” He shut the door behind him flashing a smirk at them all ‘watch and learn’ he mouthed.
Famous last words.
“Watch and learn my ass” Emmy snorted.
“Awww look at that face” Conrad teased and Belly laughed at the pair.
“So, what? Do you want to, like, pay someone to in and buy it for us or…?” Jere started.
“Try a different store? Hop a few towns over where they don’t know us as well?” Conrad finished.
Belly and Emmy looked at one another in the back seat, communicating with their eyes. The long years of being best friends allowed that sort of thing. Emmy lifted a brow first as if to say ‘you’re up’
Belly sighed “Yeah, I just don’t think that anyone is gonna buy your Guam ID”
“I mean who even chooses Guam-“ Emmy leant forward resting her chin on Conrad’s seat.
“I’d love to hear your plan Belly. And don’t even get me started Emmeline. I don’t see either of you heading to the store” Conrad turned to make eye contact with Emmy holding her gaze.
“Why don’t I just go in and ask?” Belly said confidently. Too confidently.
“That’s not gonna work” Conrad disagreed, Jeremiah nodded along. “It won’t”
“Okay” Belly shrugged and got out the car.
“Yeah I didn’t think that was her plan” Emmy sighed and rubbed her hand over her face and in Belly’s defence, inside the store she’d been the closest to success and yet still left empty handed.
“Well now what?” Jere asked the four once again.
“Emmy…” Belly started.
“No” the girl stopped her.
“But look at your outfit you could so do it. And, you’ve done it before-“ she contributed
“Leave the clothes out of it Belly. And yeah I’ve done it. At home with friends. In desperate times, not here in cousins”
The boys looked at one another in confusion before Belly caught Conrad’s eye lifting a brow the boy immediately understanding what she needed.
“C’mon Emmy this is a desperate time” he begged her, looking at her in the way he reserved for her, feeling a grin pull at his lips when she rolled her eyes and let out a groan.
“Conrad Fisher, you fucking owe me,” she pointed to the eldest boy.
“Anything you want” he allowed himself to smile at her flushed cheeks, “so what’s actually happening?” he looked back to his brother when both girls stepped out the car, the siblings rushing to follow them. When Conrad rounded the back of the car his eyes widened slightly. Emmy’s denim skirt been undone and rolled down at the waistband and her halter top adjusted to show more cleavage. Well, shit. She’d already looked hot but this? This was too much.
“Hey…uh maybe we should just drive a town over after all?” He tried to remain cool rubbing at the back of his neck, eyes flickering down at the girl.
“It’ll be the same there,” she sighed, “who did you say was working today?” She asked Jere groaning once again when he reminded her it was Jumper.
“Fuck” she mumbled, ignoring Belly’s whoop and Jeremiah’s whistle as she walked towards the store emphasising her hips as she did so. She couldn’t, however, ignore Conrad’s eyes burning into her.
“Maybe we should go get her?” Conrad tapped his foot, gaze not breaking from the store door.
“Connie it’s been like 2 minutes” Jere smacked his back moving to wrap his arms around Belly.
“Two minute too fucking long” he huffed, looking at the sky.
“Better open the trunk boys!” Her voice called out and he snapped his gaze back down seeing her grin as she walked towards them. Jumper may as well have been hypnotised the way he was following her and looking at her. Conrad clenched his jaw.
“Don’t get pulled over and god if you do? I’ll claim you stole in on my shift. I’ll see you tonight?” Jumper turned his attention to Emmy and ran his eyes over her one more time not noticing her noncommittal nod before heading back to work.
“What?” She asked Conrad who just stared blankly. “Half cherry, half coke” she shrugged and held out the cups to Jere and Belly who smiled in thanks already sipping them and heading to the car. She then pulled out the lolly from her pocket quickly ridding the wrapper and placing the candy in her mouth.
“Nothing for me?” Conrad questioned lifting the final crate of alcohol into the trunk and closing it.
“You hate slushys say they’re too sugary..” she trailed off as he stepped closer to her.
“I still like sweet things” he corrected her, reaching forward and pulled her hand holding the sucker towards his mouth.
“Mmm” he moaned slightly, “sweeter than usual” Conrad smirked, heading back towards the drivers seat.
Well, fuck.
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sevenpoyo · 7 months
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some brooklyn slang ik for all the ppl who wanna write for miles and kilometers‼️
feel free to add more idk everything but i i am originally from there and visit a lot this stuff i hear a lot and if you wanna add slang to ur writing this is a good place to start, not all of these brooklyn or ny exclusive but that’s where a lot of american slang starts and u prolly heard some of it b4. imma list it ne ways
don’t use like 8 of these in one sentence bc it will sound weird and i can’t really cover ny puerto rican slang or any puerto rican slang really bc my grandad is a bum so if you know some add it
the city is manhattan, not the other 4 burroughs, just manhattan, cus that’s where everything’s at
to cut ass is to roast tf out of someone , to get your ass cut is get tf roasted out of you
wyling/wilding is being outta pocket, something being absurd or crazy
yeah nah means no and nah yeah means yeah idk why they gotta make it complicated just look at the second word
good looks is like good looking out
it’s bout to be winter and i’m bout to see mad christmas fics and shit but do y’all know the proper way to describe cold ny winters?
if it’s cold as hell, it’s brick outside, not regular cold, ny winter is like nipples so hard i see em thru the bra cold
ex; “how it’s so brick outside i walk to the store wit my hair wet and it deadass got icicles in it” “yeah it’s fr brick outside today” “i’m not walkin wit u in this brick ass weather for a bacon egg and cheese?” (actual convo between my sister and me last winter break)
fronting seem kinda easy to me but is like acting or pretending i can’t explain it with out an example
“why you fronting like you wouldn’t die if they text you asking u to go out with them” “you can stop fronting like you like cars it cool if you don’t” “don’t sit there fronting like u don’t wanna dance wit me”
being tight over something is just being upset or annoyed
rj is so smart they said “We say tight bc you kinda huddle close to yourself when you tense/stressed or angry” i had no idea i just be saying it i aint know it had a reason💀 it make sm sense now.
“who got you tight like that this early in the morning?” “my momma came home tight yesterday for no reason, she threw a boot at me!” “i’m so tight this damn shift change has me working all closers this week”
jack is like claiming someone or something
i talk old as hell idk what the youths be jacking nowadays
cop is basically to get, used to be mostly 4 drugs back in the day my dad said (he don’t know why im asking him this)
“just copped me some retro 3’s” “bout to cop me a few percs in a minute”
speaking of a minute, mostly for my non americans bc that’s who get confused the most when i say this one. depending on the context this can mean a actual minute, a short time or a real long
“i’ll be back in a minute” is short “i ain’t seen y’all in a minute” is long. idk how to explain the difference besides context
bop is a good song, pretty easy but i see ppl on tiktok use it wrong
bangs/banger goes hard is kinda like bob for music but i be using it for anything fr
“this push pop is banging yo”
mad can be used normal like angry but it also means a lot or really kinda like hella ig? i usually uses hella when i would say mad so ppl can understand me easier up here
dumb also mean very in the same way
ex; “my english teacher give out mad homework for no reason.” “she be giving me mad shit over the smallest stuff” “i just had some mad good wings so i’m cooling rn” “this shit is mad spicy u sure you want some?” ''This shit got me dumb tight'' “you don’t need no jacket it’s dumb hot out here”
smacked is like high as fuck idk how to elaborate ur just high
lit is drunk
“Yuuuur!'' A signal, a greeting usually used to catch the attention of someone or something very fun greeting and very hated by schools, it’s weird anywhere outside of ny kinda at least to me.
being hollywood means u get a little fame and think ur all that or just that u got a little fame and they’re jokingly hating
ex; “i saw u on the news the other day, “the prowlers return” u must be real proud of yourself huh hollywood?” “and here comes hollywood wit his trending tiktoks”
real talk is when ur about confess something or say something serious in a not real serious setting or convo
“real talk we play a lot but i love you, my life would be boring with out you around” “real talk i’d never do that to you foreal”
go together is like go out kinda, y’all kinda match behavior cus y’all a couple, this one need a sentence 2 i think. (THIS ONE IS OLD AS HELL ONLY USE IT IF UR TRYING TO RIZZ MOMMA RIO)
“he want ur number? he don’t know we we go together or sum?” “why she wanna act like we go together, ion even know her?” “don’t we go together?”
i can’t even explain it with a sentence y’all just gotta figure this one out 💀
A bodega/deli is a convenience store ik most know this from the movie but some ppl think it’s all stores or all spanish stores when it’s just a corner store
the owners of the deli closest to my granddad house is muslim. and so we keep track of all muslim holidays when he’s closed
an ock is the bodega man, miles knows the man’s name at the deli we see him visit, but at any other store he’d call the guy ock
dipping on someone is changing ur mind last minute, usually canceling plans
ex “we was supposed to go get outfits together but they dipped on me last minute”
staticky is like wanting to fight or still being pissed after a fight
static is beef or on sight energy
you good can really be anything but imma list ones i can think of
it can mean like are you ok? or don’t worry about it, or how are you, or stop, or do you got a issue? or do you want an issue? it’s all in the tone of how it’s said fr
'Word of my moms/dads I saw/ did/did not *insert topic*'' Honest term, no lying present in statement i feel like (my cousins be putting anything on they momma fr risking shit on her for no reason)
'hold it down'' handle buisness / take care of someone or something. can also be in refrence to criminal who handles ''buisness''
NOW EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TO @rashadisback BC HE CARRIED ME ON THIS‼️
i hope this helps any writers that don’t live here!
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goldenlikedayl1ght · 11 days
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lover - p. parker
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a/n: hi guys so sorry it's been a while i meant to finish this a million times and im still not thrilled with the ending but oh well! i want to make a quick note that as someone whose hard of hearing i am aware that being hoh/deaf has a lot of rheotric around it and there's a lot of positive associations with being hoh/deaf but reader in this fic is not always happy with being hoh because being deaf/hoh has a LOT of complciated emotions associated with it! just keep that in mind as we go forward. warnings: hoh!reader, cursing probably, suggestive behaviors, lots of kissing, lots of fluff, a poorly written ending, gn!reader, reader having a lot of complex emotions about their hearing, talks of weddings, and reader has a mom and a step dad who love them. AUTISTIC PETER BTW ITS ONLY MENTIONED ONCE BUT IT IS IMPORTANT TO ME word count: 4.0k summary: peter parker is quite literally the most amazing boyfriend ever. even when you realize you're hard of hearing. pairing: tasm!peter parker x hoh!reader now playing: lover - taylor swift "my heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue/all's well that ends well to end up with you/swear to be over-dramatic and true to my/lover"
Going to the grocery store is a nightmare.  
Especially when you go on a Saturday in New York City, on a relatively nice day out.
You’re pushing the cart through the grocery store, trying to focus on what’s right in front of you as Peter comes up behind you, placing a box of cinnamon toast crunch in the bag before you check it off your list.
This is your system—Peter runs around grabbing your assorted groceries for the next two weeks as you check it off the list, then there is two people making sure you have all your groceries. This pretty much eliminates the possibility of having to run out to the store during the week.
And usually, you do this very early on Sunday mornings—Like, you and Peter are the first patrons at the store.
But you’re out of just a few things that are essential—Toothpaste, Milk, coffee—You pretty much just decided to get it out of the way for the next two weeks.
The problem now, is that you’re in this crowded store, full of people talking, machines beeping and carts wheeling.. You’re struggling to focus. That’s what you pass it off as, at least.
Peter’s hand lands gently on your arm as he says your name gently.
“Huh?” You tilt your head to look at him.
“I just wanted to know what was next on the list.” He smiles at you. You glance down at the list,
“Uh, Bread.” You tell him, planning on making grilled cheese and tomato soup for dinner.
“Okay, I’ll be right back.” He hums, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. You smile softly. You’re not the biggest fan of PDA but Peter can recognize when you’re feeling upset and just need a reminder of your worth.
A few minutes later, as you’re struggling to ground yourself in the middle of this Trader Joe’s, Peter spooks you when he comes up behind you, his hand resting on your upper arm.
“Fucking Christ—” You gasped, “You terrified me!”
“I’m sorry, Baby.” He says gently. “I called your name a few times, was yapping all the way down the aisle.”
“Oh..” Your face softens. You don’t really know how to say all the things you’re feeling.
“Hey, I’ll—I’ll finish up here, how bout you step outside for a few minutes? Wait for me by the carts?”
Your list is almost finished up so you nod, smiling gently before leaving the grocery store, finally getting some peace and quiet. You lean against the wall of the grocery store, watching people pass the grocery store. About twenty minutes later, Peter walks out of the grocery store, holding your grocery bags. He hands you two bags but carries about four. Your boyfriend is Spider-man, and as much as you hate taking advantage of that.. You can’t’ deny how nice his strength is for situations like this.
He shifts the bags around to pull two candy bars out of his pocket—
A Snickers for him, and a standard Hershey bar for you.
You eat your candy as you make the short trip home, not saying much. The candy bar helps, but this looming truth lingers in the air, and you don’t want to be the one to say anything about it. So the pair of you make your way into the apartment, putting away your groceries wordlessly. But in the quiet of your apartment, you stop, suddenly plagued with a new trouble.
“My ears are ringing.”
“What?” It’s not something he’s asking because he did not hear you, but the statement catches him off guard.
“My ears are ringing.” You repeat. He gently takes the oranges out of your hands, scared that you might dig your fingers into them and destroy them half an hour after he picked them out.
“Okay,” he says softly, putting them to the side. “Why don’t you go sit down in the living room while I make some tea and put the groceries away?” He gently prods. Too busy wanting to literally claw off your own ears, you nod and head over to your couch.
Peter’s by your side a few minutes later with a mug of tea on the coffee table. However, it goes quickly forgotten as you climb on top of him, cuddling into him. His hands rub your back gently. You sit like this for a while, until he decides to ask—
“How long have you had trouble with your hearing?” His voice is soft. You reflect for a little while, before responding with a soft,
“A long time, now..” You remember being a teenager and having trouble hearing your friends in the lunchroom and lectures being a nightmare during college. “I think I’ve been just ignoring it for a few years..”
He had a feeling that’s what your answer would have been—you’re rather in tune with yourself, and something like this would’ve been something you picked up on a long time ago. But he doesn’t blame you for ignoring something like this.
“You know we should probably go to an audiologist, right?” He asks.
“Yeah, I know..” You sigh, cuddling into him further, as if you can hide away from the entire world.
“I’ll take you,” he says gently, not wanting you to worry about going alone or being anxious. You’ll be anxious anyways, but maybe he could help. And he will help, his fingers always brushing against your skin, making sure you remember that he’s there and not going anywhere. It’s the best way he can help-- By making sure you’re not alone.
“Thanks..” Your voice breaks, and he frowns, his hand coming to find your cheek, pulling you into his view. The sight of you crying makes his heart squeeze.
“What’s the matter, baby?” He asks softly, his thumb wiping your tears.
“I don’t..” You bite your lip, trying to form the words. You’re not an idiot. You have done some research on Deaf culture. You knew that it was an enhancement, something to be proud of. And that was phenomenal—You had done a lot of courses in college on disability rhetoric, and you knew how important it was to reinforce positive associations with disabilities, as well as the fact that most deaf and hard of hearing people did not consider themselves disabled.
And all that pride lived inside of you—But you couldn’t help your struggle about the subject. It would take time to adjust to, and Peter.. Peter deserved an easy life. He was Spider-Man for Christ’s sake!
“I don’t want you to have to worry about me if it turns out I do have trouble hearing. I don’t want to be a burden to you.”
He frowns at this, tilting his head.
“Hey,” he tilts his head, looking at you with admiration. “Did you know when I was adopted by my aunt and uncle they told them I would be a challenge to raise? That my autism and lack of social skills would make me.. harder to love..?”
“You’re not hard to love.” You immediately say, and he smiles.
“I know. My aunt and uncle proved that to me, they went into raising me knowing that I would just have different struggles as other kids my age. Even if you are heard of hearing or deaf—You’re not hard to love. You just have different experiences and struggles from other people our age. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want every part of that journey.” He leans forward and places a kiss on your forehead. It makes you smile a bit. “Now, no more tears. Let’s watch a movie, and we’ll start our research tomorrow, okay?” He hums.
You nod and grab the throw blanket behind him, pulling it across the pair of you as he grabs the remote and turns on your favorite movie. His hands stay on you, rubbing comforting patterns into your skin.
He turns the subtitles on without you asking.
• • •
The audiologist office has lights that are too bright. You and Peter sit side by side, as you look around at the other patients. Your chest tightens as you realize you are surrounded by people in their 70’s and 80’s—Except for you, a twenty something year old, a young boy, around seven, and a teenage girl. You all share similar looks of discomfort, but in your anxiety, you notice that there’s a sense of.. familiarity in seeing people your age here.
You decide to put a pin in your thoughts, as Peter’s hand finds your thigh, and you glance back over to him. In the past two weeks, He’s been giving more physical cues to get your attention, a small way he’s trying to make you feel more comfortable.
“Stop bouncing your leg,” he says softly, “You’re just working yourself up.” He says gently. You nod, and then your name is called, so you gather your things, and before you go, Peter grabs your wrist, before throwing up the sign in ASL for ‘I love you’. You grin and throw it back, before following the nurse into the back.  
Peter waits, for around half an hour, making sure not to draw too much attention to himself. He makes pleasant conversation with two of the older ladies who are there, after finding out that they all grew up in Queens.
After that half hour, you come back out of the back rooms of the office, and Peter grins at you as he says a quick, respectful goodbye to the two older women, before handing you your jacket.
The pair of you stay quiet until you’re out of the office, and only when you’re a few steps away does he slip his jacket on before asking,
“How’d it go?” And with this, he clumsily signs along. The pair of you have been practicing ASL—Short phrases here and there.
You hesitate for an answer, going into your bag and fishing out a small ASL dictionary. Inside, in his sort of messy handwriting, Peter has written you a note that you take a glance at every time you open it. It reads, ‘Don’t forget I love you’, and it never fails to make you smile.
Another challenge you’ve been facing in your journey to learn ASL is your facial expressions—You’ve never been good at properly matching your face to your emotions or words, so it’s been a struggle.
“Fine,” You speak and sign. Then you pause. “Actually, not fine.” You sign, and then you drop the signing, because you’re only a beginner. “It’s sort of what we expected—My hearing is.. bad, and will probably get worse as I age.” His hand finds yours.
“Okay.. What did he say about hearing aids?”
“That If I felt like I needed them to schedule a follow-up.” You tell him. “But they’re expensive and I’ll need to do research to see what sort of health insurance coverage I have.”
He nods gently, his thumb rubbing your knuckles gently.
“Well, we’re gonna cross that bridge when we get there, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He throws up the sign for ‘I love you’. You throw it back. And it might seem stupid, but every time Peter holds up that sign, your heart melts a little bit. Maybe it’s a low bar or something like that—And it’s true. But Peter is learning a whole new language for the sake of making sure you’re comfortable and for your comfort. No one has ever done anything close to that for you.
• • •
Peter has become in tune with your body. Which is a weird way to say it, but it’s true. Those heightened senses of his come in handy, and mostly, he watches for tension in your shoulders and your jaw, perfect indicators that your ears hurt.
Usually, it’s this painful ringing, and usually, Peter just tries to make you as cozy as possible while you ride that out.
But tonight, you’re at a family party, celebrating your sister’s birthday. She’s getting married in a few months, and she’s been so busy with that you haven’t seen a lot of her. Peter holds your gift for her in one hand, and your hand in his with the other.
The party goes well for the most part, you’re just relaxing and hanging out with your family. It’s a nice party, and you’re grateful for your entire family. Your mom holds your nephew in her lap, your sister laughs with your aunts and her fiancé, and your brother and uncle are yapping about some football game.
You, Peter, and your stepdad stand in the kitchen, talking about all sorts of things. Your sister’s wedding, the cruise he just took your mom on, Peter’s recent promotion, and of course..
“Have you considered hearing aids?” Your stepdad asks.
“Yeah, they’re just.. expensive.” You laugh, nervously.
Your stepdad gently taps his own ears, “Well, you’d be part of an elite club.” He grins.
You roll your eyes playfully, before your attention is grabbed by a tugging on the leg of your pants. You glance down, and see your young nephew, gazing up at you with wide eyes.
“What can I do for you, little man?” You ask, a hand coming up to brush hair from his face. He says something you can’t quite make out, so you put your drink on the counter and crouch down to hear him properly, tapping right below your ear, “One more time, bud.”
“Can Peter come play?” He asks, still a little shy around the man you’ve been dating for a while now. You grin and nod,
“Of course he can.” You glance up to Peter, then to your nephew. “What do you wanna play?”
“Dinosaurs.” He requests. So, you pick him up and turn to Peter.
“Peter, our friend here would like to play dinosaurs with you.” You grin.
The way your hair falls into place, the way you hold your nephew close, the way your smile pinches your eyes together.. Peter wishes he could freeze this moment forever because you look perfect.
“Dinosaurs?” he repeats, before grabbing your nephew from you, and then positioning him so that he’s riding on Peter’s back. “Dude, I love dinosaurs!” that’s the last thing you can make out as Peter carries him off to the living room to play dinosaurs. You watch with an affectionate smile, taking small sips of your drink.
“So… Nice kid..” Your mom says as she walks into the kitchen.
You assume she’s talking about your nephew, so you shrug, “He is a good kid.”
“No, I’m talking about Peter.” Your face flushes as you realize where this is going.
“What about Peter?” You hum, looking over to her.
“I’m just saying, I think—”
“You two are gross together.” Your stepdad chimes in, but there’s no malice behind his comment. In fact, you only laugh because it’s something you used to say to them when they started dating.
“Yeah, I know,” You hum. “I really love him.” You confess, before shrugging.
“You know, with your sister’s wedding coming up, I’ve been thinking a lot about—” Your face flushes, as you finish your drink.
“When Peter and I are ready to get married, you two will be the first to know.”
“Oh, so you do wanna marry him.” Your mom smiles. Your face is warmer now.
“I’m gonna go mingle, you two should try minding your own business.”
You find Peter rather quickly, and he just smirks at you, before signing, ‘Talking about marriage?’
You roll your eyes, signing back, ‘Shut up.’ He just puckers his lips and blows a kiss at you. He wants to marry you too.
• • •
After dinner and cake, you sit in your old bedroom, rubbing your ears as you try and come up with an excuse to leave.
Peter finds you a few minutes later and sits next to you on your bed. You lean into him, your eyes heavy from dealing with the ringing you’ve been dealing with.
He gently prompts you to pick your head up before signing, ‘Ringing again?’
You just nod.
“Pete, I wanna go home.” You tell him. Your brother and nephew left a little while ago, and downstairs, your aunts and uncles are getting ready to head home.
“I know, baby. Let’s get you home.” He hums softly. He gently rubs his hand up and down your arm, before pressing a sweet kiss to your neck. Then, one at the base of your ear.
• • •
A few days later, you’re just doing chores around the apartment when your phone buzzes. When you take a minute to glance at it, you find yourself grinning.
It’s the link to an article, sent to you by your mom—Besides Peter, she has been the greatest support through your journey in figuring out you’re hearing. And she knows you have a bias towards Spider-man as far as vigilantes go (wonder why).
The link leads you to a photo of Spider-man, who is swinging across the city, holding up the sign for ‘I love you’. A grin breaks out on your face, just in time for Peter to crawl back into the apartment.
You find him with his mask off as he starts to calm down from a long day, and before he can do much else, you make your way over to him and pull him in for a long kiss.
He hums, his hands finding your waist as your arms wrap around his neck. When you pull away he grins.
“Hi.” He hums.
“Hey..” you smile. “I didn’t know Spider-man knew sign language,” You tease, and he just laughs, a light pink dusting of blush across his cheeks.
“He knows it for you.”
“For me?”
“For you, baby,” he leans in and kisses you gently. His hands begin to travel from your waist to the hem of your shirt, and then up, resting his gloved fingers against the skin of your sides.
• • •
Your hearing aids come in just in time for your sister’s wedding.
You pick them up and hold them in your hands as you go back and forth, worrying. Worrying about Peter not liking them, worrying about breaking them, worrying about everything, really.
But you stand in front of the mirror, and put them on carefully, before turning them on. You take a moment to adjust to how certain sounds are now. The drip of the faucet is more pronounced, and the sounds don’t just melt together like they usually do.
You can even hear Peter shuffling around outside, giving you as much time as you need to process the look and feel of them. When you finally step out, you’re nervous, and he must be able to tell.
“Look at you,” he grins, peering at the hearing aids. “Can we get a spin?” You immediately let out a nervous giggle, and then do a little twirl for him, and he just laughs and claps.
“You like them?” You ask nervously, and he nods.
“Absolutely.” He tells you. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the side of your head, right next to your hearing aids. “I have something for you.” he tells you, before handing you a small black box. For a moment, you freak out. He probably senses the panic and shakes his head, “Just open it.”
You do, and when you realize what you’re looking at, your heart absolutely melts. It’s a gold star earing that has a chain that hooks onto your hearing aid, and another chain with more star pendants that dangle. It’s gorgeous, and you wonder what you did to deserve him. You lean in and kiss him gently.
“Thank you.” You say softly, and he can tell you’re going to get emotional, so he kisses you again.
“I think you look very pretty.” He hums, “Complete.” You grin and lean in for another kiss.
You’re beginning to feel it, too.
• • •
The morning of your sister’s wedding, you’re texting Peter as your sister gets her makeup done. You’re pretty much all ready, you’re just inclined to stay with her until she needs you.
‘Bug Boy
2:24
Attachment: One Image’
The look of Peter in his suit makes your heart melt.
‘Sugar
2:26
you look very handsome, pete <3’
‘Bug Boy
2:26
Aw, thank you, sugar. Do I get a photo of you or do I have to wait?’
‘Sugar
2:27
nope! gotta wait.’
‘Bug Boy
2:30
: (‘
‘Bug Boy
2:33
How are your hearing aids feeling?’
‘Sugar
2:35
good! they’re helping with all the commotion. i’m glad i got them before the wedding’
‘Bug Boy
2:36
Me too. I love you. See you soon?’
‘Sugar
2:37
see you soon <3 i love you.’
 You wear all black, as per her request, and you ask her a few days before if it’s okay if you wear your hearing aids, mostly because you don’t want the attention on you if you must answer a bunch of questions about your hearing aids.
But she’s more than happy to have you wear them, especially if it means you can hear everything that’s happening, and that your ears won’t ring.
The gold hearing aid jewelry goes well with your outfit, and you’re anxious to see Peter again—You’ve been so busy getting ready and helping your sister get ready that you haven’t given him a chance to see your fancy new outfit.
Just before the ceremony, as your sister is having her first look with her soon to be husband, you manage to sneak away, finding Peter mingling with your extended family, enjoying a drink, and eating some appetizers. Your spider boy and his appetite.
You tap on his shoulder when he’s alone, and he turns and quite literally gasps at the sight of you.
“Look what we have here,” he hummed, his hands running down the sides of your outfit. Then, he puts his drink down and begins to sign while speaking, “You look gorgeous. Your jewelry looks lovely.” He grins.
You blush, before signing back, “You don’t think it looks weird or clunky?”
“No,” He shakes his head, “You’re glowing,” he tells you, leaning into place a soft kiss on your lips.
“I love you,” You sign, “Do you want this?”
Your question catches him off guard, and he signs back,
“What?”
“This,” You gesture to the area around you. “A big wedding.”
His answer is simple but effective—
“I want whatever kind of wedding you want.”
“Even if I want big obnoxious flowers and a big ugly pastry gown?”
“Even if you want all that. Although..” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders.
“Although?” You question.
“I always imagined you in something simple. Something that shows off your features, not outshines them… And now, your little stars and hearing aids to go along with it..” He hums, grinning at your reddening face. “And pink tulips.”
“Pink tulips?”
“To go with the white roses.” He hums. You never really thought of Peter as a guy to have dreams and plans for his wedding, but he’s full of surprises. You know that better than anybody else.
“I love you.” You say softly, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. On your side, the flash of a light goes off and you start to giggle when you realize that one of the many photographers your sister has hired, and you realize that the photos of you and Peter will forever be known as from your sister’s wedding when you were just dating.
“I love you,” he hums as he holds up the sign for it. “How much time do you have before the ceremony starts?”
“Twenty minutes?”
“..Plenty of time.” He has this wicked grin on his face. Your face flushes, before you take his hand, letting him drag you off to a quiet corner of the venue.
“You better not ruin my hair or my makeup, spider boy.”
“I’ll be nice and gentle- I can be mean and rough later.”
“Peter Parker, I swear to god—”
He cuts you off by pressing you against the wall of an elevator, and as the door closes, he runs his fingers over your hearing aids, before pressing another kiss to your lips.
59 notes · View notes
anrieee · 1 year
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⇝ 19 - (✍︎) i hate you
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Scara’s smile faded as fast as it appeared when he saw you with the guy you posted about on Twitter. He thinks his name was Thomas or something, it didn’t matter, really. Were you on a date with this guy? The thought made his whole being tingle with bitterness and that was evident with the scowl he adorned. But that was how he usually looked anyways, always frowning or straight-faced.
“Kuni~” The annoyingly high-pitched voice that Tin used made his frown deeper, but it also brought him back from his thoughts.
For a moment he forgot that he was here on a date with the unpleasant female. Thinking of being on a date with Tin made him just as upset as he did when he thought of you being on a date with someone else.
“Are you done yet?” He seethed.
“Hm, not yet.” Scara wasn’t sure if Tin can’t read the room or she just ignored that he obviously didn’t wanna be there. “I still need to buy some new stuff from Gucci, some of my clothes are outdated now.”
“Spoiled brat.” Scara muttered under his breath.
Tin tried to drag Scara with her into the store, but he stayed rooted in his spot. Tin looked back towards him, tilting her head in confusion. “Are you not gonna come with me inside?”
“No.” Scara stated firmly and Tin just shrugged. Scara wanted to at least say hi to you.
He started to make his way towards you and the guy you were with. He didn’t know what to say to you, all he wanted was to hear your voice.
“Y/n, hi!” He called out from behind you.
You visibly flinch and turned around in shocked, “Scara? What’s up?”
“I’m here on a date.” He said. He didn’t know what possessed him to say that, but something in him wanted to see how you would react. Er— more specifically, he wanted to see you jealous.
Your eyebrows raise ever so slightly and you shifted uncomfortably. After that, you didn’t seem to show any more reactions seemingly having shut them down. You smiled at him in a way that didn’t reach your eye, “I see. I’m here spending some time with Thoma. I hope you’re enjoying your time with Tin, I’ll see you later.” And with that you quickly turn around and drag the guy with you.
“Who was that?”
“Scaramouche.”
Thoma raised his eyebrows at you, “Are you guys exes?”
“Kinda.”
“Do you like him?”
“I don’t like him at all.” Due to your previous interaction with Scara, your words came out colder than you expected. And unbeknownst to you, Scara had heard the statement loud and clear. In his mind, the way you said it seemed like you actually hated his gut.
“Damn, your tone sounded really harsh. You’re totally je—” Thoma’s voice faded as Scara’s thoughts became louder.
‘They hate you.’
‘Shut up.’
‘Only natural since you’re an inconsiderate asshole.’
‘Shut. Up.’
‘I told you everyone leaves eventually.’ It laughed at Scara and mocked him.
‘They don’t like you enough to stay with you.’
‘Let me rephrase that, they hate you and they finally decided that they couldn’t put up with you anymore. Worthless and annoying.’
‘You’re a handful.’
‘All you do is be a burden. You’re useless. This is why no one actually likes you.’
And Scaramouche spiralled down deeper into the darkness of his mind.
Deeper and
deeper
and deeper.
He felt like he was drowning and he let it happen. He didn’t try to swim up. All he did was lay there limply, like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
He didn’t remember what he did after that. He only remembered the emptiness he felt as he was lost in his mind and the anger. Anger towards himself, you, and everything. And he vividly remembered the impulse he had to text you. To hurt you as much as your words had hurt him.
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just a hater — [ prev | masterlist | next ]
Synopsis: In which you major in astronomy and scaramouche is the biggest astronomy hater (in your eyes). What happens when someone confesses their feelings for you, and you not knowing how to handle affections, suddenly blurt out that you are already taken. By who? Well, scaramouche of course.
a/n: was planning on posting this during christmas but eh
taglist: @lovelyiez @linn-a-a @one-offmind @itsyourgirlria @beriiov @kunikuzushiit @bubiblossom @jiminscarmex @starfruiitzz @baelloraa @bleedingwhiteroses222 @zanashair @criminalinthemaking @dee-zbignuts @shizunxie @lxry-chxn @mangobee @sukunasrealgf @reverse-iak @monochromaticelliot @scaranaris-lil-niko @zannivrs @lovely-scaramouchie @ireallylikehamsters @angryhope @monaypo1 @diiucsion @shirmxie @pooonyo @ladyv1n @thenightsflower @aerinrin @suzukara @lfgceo @st0pthatsgay @elysiasbae @saoiirsee @kairxse @prefesro @purpl3bo1 @l-l-u-x-x @otomegame-oneshots @mcryv @kunikuzushisbeloved (?) @cupids-chamber @justawalkingdisaster @scaraapologist @elakari @nicole-inyourhouse @hishui @loveroftheoldestdream @doppoluvbot @crowbird @lunavixia @mirology
669 notes · View notes
jongseongsnudes · 1 year
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sixteen.
warning: 🥺 1.1k words.
masterlist.
“next stop, enha mall. next stop, enha mall.”
“can you at least tell me why we’re going to the mall... together?”
silence. again.
the team captain hadn’t spoken a word to you the entire day, not after your conversation this morning. you’d catch him staring at you a few times throughout the day but never did he speak to you. not even after getting onto the bus after school together.
“i swear to god niki, i will just get off-”
“you already agreed to come,” he finally finally turns to you, his voice though soft has a hint of annoyance in them, “just be patient. i’ll tell you later.”
you could only sigh but listen anyway.
a million things run through your mind, a million different reasons why he would want to take you to the mall. and so out of the blue. and your questions are still unanswered, even when you’re led towards a cute stationery store, your personal favourite, inside the mall ten minutes later.
“okay,” he looks hesitant, nervous, as he turns to look down at you while standing in front of the store, “i like someone.”
“oh.”
yes, oh. this was the last thing you expected him to say, to tell you that he liked someone else. something inside of you immediately deflates to the confession, like a balloon that had just been popped. you fight hard to keep a dejected expression from dawning your face, instead displaying your usual expression at the boy.
“i mean that’s great niki but...” you pause to gather your feelings, hoping he wouldn’t hear your tone, “but why are you telling me this?”
“well if you would’ve let me finished explaining, you would know,” he rolls his eyes rather dramatically, “i want to buy her a gift but i don’t know what to get. so help me.”
pang. straight to the heart.
“you took me all the way to the mall for this? why didn’t you ask those cheerleader senior friends of yours or anyone else! you’re unbelievable!”
“why are you so angry!”
yeah.
why were you so angry? why were you suddenly screaming at him? it wasn’t even that big of a deal right?
it’s not like there was anything between you and him anyway, right?
“well- well quick then. i’ll help you pick something so we can get out of here,” you enter the store without waiting for his response and let out the one breath you didn’t even know you were holding.
“thanks miss class president.”
pang. straight to the heart, again.
he follows you like a lost puppy, trailing closely behind you as you looked through some adorable pouches, stationery and so forth. you can feel his eyes on you the entire time, the intensity of his stare feels different today. like he’s trying to read you, to know every thought inside your head.
and thank the heavens that he can’t because all of your thoughts were of him.
“so nishimura... what colour does she like?”
“uhhh i don’t know but her pencil case is full of colours so i assume every colour?”
sigh, your pencil case was like that too.
“okay...” you say while picking out a few small things, “does she like anything in particular from here?”
“i don’t know-”
“then what do you know!” you turn around abruptly, only to have the team captain walk right into you, almost knocking you over. but of course with his athletic reflexes, the boy quickly reaches out to hug your waist, keeping you up against him. you were now so close to him, your face practically right beneath his.
this is proving way too much for your poor heart could handle with the way it was pounding inside your chest.
“can you be careful? it’s like i have to save you at least a hundred times every day!” the boy’s tone causes a few other customers to peek your way but it’s not like they weren’t looking at the handsome boy already anyway.
“well no one told you to save me! you could’ve just let me fallen down!”
you push against his chest when the boy doesn’t respond to you, hoping to get away from him as soon as possible. your poor heart might just explode if you didn’t at this point.
“whatever,” you straighten out the ends of your skirt and continue gawking over the displays, “but how can you not know anything about the person you like, nishimura. i’m sure it’s one of those cheer leader senior friends of yours right? so are you sure she’ll even like things from these stores? should we go to another store-”
“why do you always assume it’s one of them! it’s not them!” the boy suddenly steps closer to you as he says so, almost cornering you in against the display shelf, his body slightly pressing onto yours, “just pick something! anything. just pick things you like and we can go.”
not wanting to argue any further, you do as told, picking out a few random things you found absolutely adorable and hand them to the boy.
while you wait for him to pay, you can’t help but feel even more deflated than before. not only did niki nishimura have a crush on some mysterious girl but now he was gifting her things that you had chosen.
how great.
“thanks miss class president, for real,” the boy dangles the cute, purple bag with the biggest grin on his face, “i’m sure she’ll love it.”
“i hope so.”
“i know so.”
“whatever can i go now?” you rush to speak, wanting nothing more than to go home and jump into your heaven of pillows and not cry.
“do you want a drink? i’ll grab you one as a thank-”
“no it’s fine i have plans anyway. okay bye!”
you have never turned and walked away so fast in your life but you had to get away from the boy.
sigh.
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yawn.
8am.
you look down at your phone, surprised that you even made it to school on time despite not getting much sleep last night.
after getting home from the mall trip with niki, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. after everything that happened in the past few weeks with him, all the interactions, all the unexplainable moments... you thought that maybe there was something more.
until he confessed that he liked someone else. of course he would. how could he ever like you.
sigh.
you immediately pause once you enter the classroom, your mind unable to process the scene before you.
there, stood niki in front of your best friend’s desk while she sat in her seat.
and in her lap, the very same cute, purple bag from yesterday.
and pang. straight to your heart for the final time.
end.
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I has request!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wilbur x a very pretty reader. Let me explain
Reader is one of those people that’s so pretty that they are either showered with complements or made fun of. And so when Wilbur complements them and it’s a complement they haven’t heard before (https://www.verywellmind.com/positivity-boosting-compliments-1717559 has some good ones 🤍) reader is just awestruck and doesn’t know how to reply
my fave back at it again with SUCH a good idea holy shit-i hope i do it justice <3
headphones in, always.
you're in line at the groccery store-no muisc plays through the headphones, but it keeps people away from talking to you-
and listen, you're modest-really! you are-but like, you know that you’re pretty. and it’s not every trip that someone says it, but you usually can’t go one outting without at least two people saying some thing.
so when you catch a curly haired man behind you staring, his fist in a ball against his cheek, elbow rests on the bar of the cart, a small smirk on his face, you take out a headphone and mentally prepare yourself for the usual compliments, the usual walk around.
“what?” you finally say.
he doesn’t mind the edge around your words, doesn’t knock the lovesick look off his face, says: “i bet you make babies smile.”
you snort, actually taken back for once. “excuse you?”
and some confidence he didn’t know he has, finally stands up straighter, and you see holy shit he’s towering over you he speaks again, a punch to them: “i said you look like you make babies smile.”
he doubles down and that alone makes some edge melt off.
“i gotta say, i’ve never heard that before.”
for the first time ever, pink washes over your cheeks.
he shrugs, “never had a genuine compliment before?” he seems genuinely confused on it and you shrug, let it hang in the air.
“wil,” he leans over his cart to shake your hand and you fumble over your cart to shake his hand, introduce yourself back.
“let me take you out to dinner,” he says, enjoying this confidence he didn’t know he had, “your voice is magnificent. i want to hear more.”
and it’s so cliche, if it was anyone else you might’ve been uncomfortable but no one’s ever been this sincere to you-
“seriously, lemme see your phone. i’ll add myself.”
and it’s like you trust a stranger, fumble as you hand your phone over, he’s typing his number in as he’s making a joke to you, holds your phone up and snaps a silly selfie, a wink, hands it back.
“it’s a date, yeah?” he says as you skip your phone into your pocket and he points his chin at the line, now empty in front of you, you wonder how long it’s been like that- and he enjoys watching you stumble over your words, fumble to get your wallet as he watches lovesick.
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enhaheeseung · 2 years
Text
Taxi
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Paring: heeseung x fem reader
Warnings: good ol smutty smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, male masturbation, blowjob, cum eating, food, alcohol, lil fluff towards the end.
Note : who’s plot? We don’t know her. We only know ✨𝒮𝓂𝓊𝓉✨
WC 2,670
Masterlist
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“Need a ride?” the man driving a yellow taxi asked you, seeing you walking all alone at night on the side of the road.
He had just finished dropping off his last customer and was heading home until he saw you walking by yourself as the rain got heavier.
You looked at him as he leaned over to the passenger door opening it for you, and that’s all it took for you to climb in the seat, taking him up on his offer and getting out of the rain that began to pour down.
“So, y/n, what do you like to do for fun?” Your taxi driver asked, making small talk with you. It was only a few minutes before you were on route to your destination, and you had already taken a liking to your driver, whose name you learned was heeseung.
“Nothing really. I’m more of a stay at home person. How about you?”
“Well, when I’m not carting people around all day, I’ll usually go out with my friends and just hang out and talk about all kinds of things. It’s like a stress reliever for me,” he explains.
“Sounds like fun. I don’t have any friends, though,” you looked out the window, watching a few droplets of rain roll down.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes”
“Tell me you at least have a boyfriend.”
“I don’t, umm, can we maybe just stop talking the rest of the way.”
“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just you’re so beautiful that I thought you’d definitely be taken. I guess people are just blind these days, I’ve only known you for a few minutes, but I’d love to call you my friend.”
“Thank you,” you said, a bit skeptical. Not believing someone like him would even be the least bit interested in you.
“I should be thanking you for allowing me to even be in your presence.” He joked.
“So, what about you? I assume you have a girlfriend.”
“Actually, no,” he answers.
“No way”
“What do you mean no way?” He looked at you for a split second before training his eyes back on the road.
“That’s just very hard to believe, you’re handsome, funny, easy to talk to, and for the first time, I wished I lived further away just so I could spend more time with you. I guess people really are blind these days.”
And where the fuck did all that come from?
You looked at him, watching his eyeballs expand at your sudden admission.
“Wait, oops, I didn’t mean to say all that. Oh wow, I’m-”
“No, no, it’s quite nice hearing that. I just didn’t expect it to be so straightforward” He tried to ignore all the heat that made its way to his cheeks by turning on the fan.
“Well, you only live once, so why not leave everything on the table?”
“I suppose you’re right, so what were you doing walking the streets so late at night?”
“Oh, I don’t have a car, so I usually go everywhere on foot.”
“Do you have any idea just how unsafe that is?”
“I do what I can heeseung. Life is just not as simple as one might think”
“Exactly, this is why you need a boyfriend, so he can take care of you.”
“Like that will ever happen,” you laughed bitterly.
“Geez, you could be a little more optimistic, your Prince Charming could be staring you right in the face, and you might not even know it,” he said while taking a quick glance at you, and his confession seemed to go right over your head.
He took a left turn after putting on his signal.
“Oh, umm, you were actually supposed to go right.”
“Well, I’m kinda hungry. You don’t mind if I stop for a few minutes, do you?”
“No, I’m sure you’re tired and need a break. I’m not in a rush to go home anyway.”
“Thank you” He pulled into a small convenience store.
“Do you want anything? I can get you anything you want.”
“No, I’m good. Thank you for the offer.” You reject him politely.
“Dang it, I was hoping you’d say yes, I don’t like eating alone.”
“In that case, I’ll just have whatever you’re having”
“Really? Okay great! I’ll be right back.” Before you knew it, he was already coming back to the car with two bowls of ramen and soju.
“Soju? You can’t drink and drive.”
“One bottle of alcohol is not going to get me drunk.”
“But it’s illegal.”
“And? Are you going to snitch on me?” You shook your head as a no.
“Then stop your worrying and eat up, will you” After taking a few bites, you spoke up again.
“You know, this is the first time I’ve eaten with someone since I moved out of my parent’s house.”
“Really? How long has that been?” He blew on his steamy noodles before taking in a mouth full.
“Almost six years” He started choking on his food in disbelief at what you said.
“Six years!? I always eat with someone. I feel like it’s a way of getting closer to someone and bonding with them.”
“Well, maybe that’s why I have no friends, cause I eat alone,” you joked.
“That’s a valid reason, you know” he defended his reasoning for always having to eat with someone.
“So you just indirectly said you want to bond with me.”
“Uh yeah, why else would I have stopped to eat? plus, I get to spend some more time with you.”
“Good to know,” you smiled to yourself, feeling even more smitten with your driver.
You spent a few more minutes in the car just talking about random things that you both took an interest in. “So, do you feel like we’ve bonded?”
“I’d say so” he stared at your lips as his hand moved closer to your leg.
“Oh” was all you could say after seeing the way he looked at you.
His hand came in contact with your thigh inching slowly up your dress.
“We should probably throw these away,” you motioned toward the empty ramen containers.
He quickly retracted his hand.
“Yeah, I’ll toss them out” he gathered all the trash, stepping out of his car and throwing it away.
Once he was back inside, he buckled his belt, turning the GPS back on, wanting nothing more than to just take you home.
Trying to pretend he wasn’t feeling some way over your silent rejection.
I blew it. I came onto her way too fast, and now she probably hates my guts and thinks I’m some pervert that picks up girls off the street late at night.
The next 15 minutes of the ride were completely silent.
“What’s wrong?” You ask him, noticing how quiet he’s been after leaving the convenience store.
“Nothing, just a little tired, been driving all day.”
“Oh, okay” you wanted to talk to him more, but if he was tired, you wouldn’t bother him.
As the destination was getting closer, the street started to empty out, and the night grew darker, silence filled his vehicle, and it was killing him, so he broke it.
“Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have done that”
“Don’t be. I didn’t mean to blow you off, but I was just surprised. No one has done that to me before,” you told him truthfully.
“So you don’t hate me?”
“The only way I’ll hate you is if you don’t do it again.”
He instantly pulled over on the side of the road, turning off his lights.
He quickly got out of the driver’s seat, almost running to the passenger door.
He took your hand and brought you to the backseat pulling you on top of him.
“If at any point you feel uncomfortable, just let me know, and I’ll stop.”
He held your waist in his hands, traveling lower and giving your bottom a small squeeze.
You undid each button on his flannel shirt impatiently. He swallowed thickly when he felt your warm hands caressing Down his chest and to his pants. He lifted his hips up so you could pull them down along with his boxers.
He groaned at the thought that the only thing separating him from you was your thin panties, and he had to change that.
He lifted up your delicate dress, grabbing at the waistband of your undergarment and pulling it down to your ankles.
This time a sound escaped you when you felt how hard he had already gotten. You slowly grind on him, sliding back and forth, getting his cock nice and covered with your juices.
“You’re such a little tease” he rocked his hips up into you, matching your steady rhythm.
“Oh, heeseung,” you moaned. He brought a hand to the back of your head, bringing your face closer and connecting his mouth to yours.
“Fuck” he breathed out into the steam filled car.
“I want you inside” you grind down on him harder.
“But, y/n, I don’t have any condoms.” He only just now came to the realization.
“It’s okay, I trust you” you gave him tiny kisses all over his neck.
He was still a bit unsure, but he needed you now, condom or no condom.
He lifted you up a bit and used his hand to guide his cock into your dripping hole. Letting you down slowly and feeling your wet and warm welcoming cunt.
His head fell back. He stayed still for a few seconds already, feeling he wasn’t going to last very long.
“So fucking wet, you’re such a needy little thing” he nibbled on your neck softly, shivers running down your spine.
“Heeseung, please move.” He bucked his hips up, his cock already touching your spot with just one thrust.
“Shit, I feel so full,” you bit down on his collar bone, eliciting a groan from him.
“Yeah? Like it when my dick is stuffed up inside that slutty little pussy of yours?” You had no idea he was capable of saying such filthy things to you only after knowing you for every bit of an hour.
“Fuck, yes, I’m nothing but a slut for your dick,” you cried out. It would appear that you weren’t much better off.
“So shameless” he gripped your waist firmly, making you bounce on his cock. You fell onto his sweaty chest, letting him use you on his cock as if you were a toy.
“Heeseung, close,” you said in a whisper next to his ear.
“You wanna cum on cock?” He wanted to call you baby but figured that would be too much.
You let out a small whimper.
“Touch yourself, play with that little clit” he kissed on your neck.
You reached down between your bodies, rubbing circles on your sensitive clit, adding even more pleasure.
He jerked his hips up, directing each stroke to hit as deep in you as possible.
“Gonna cum? I feel you squeezing my cock so hard. You’re such a nasty little slut for cock aren’t you?”
“Heeseung! Oh god, yes!” He held you securely in his arms, your body trembling in his grasp as you hit your climax. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, and you fell deeper into him, indulging in the remnants of bliss.
He slowed down his hips with each breath you took. Guiding you through your orgasm.
It took everything in him not to just cum inside you then and there.
After you calmed down a bit, he looked at your face. Seeing how exhausted you were, he cupped your cheek and kissed you softly.
Once you regained your senses, you remembered that he hadn’t cum yet.
“What about you?”
He lifted you up and pulled out of you replacing your pussy with his hand. It didn’t feel even half as good, but he was going to try to make it work.
After a few minutes of desperately searching for his orgasm, it never came. No matter how fast he pumped his hand or transitioned from the base to the tip, nothing seemed to be working.
He laughed a little, trying to mask the very awkward situation he was in. But after a while later, he gave up completely.
“I’ll figure it out after I take you home” the drive was only a couple of minutes away, but you didn’t want him waiting any longer.
You removed his hand, replacing it with your own, stroking him at a slower pace to ease him back into it.
His hands fell at his sides, watching you twist your wrist expertly on his cock. Your hand already felt ten times better than his ever could.
He reached over to you, squeezing your breast’s in his large hands.
“You’re so fucking sexy y/n” his words only spurred you on more.
You replaced your hand with your mouth sucking lightly at his tip.
“Ah, fuck” he took small quick breaths feeling overwhelmed at the way you sucked him so good.
Your lips touched the base of his cock each time you took him further in your mouth.
You moaned around his dick, feeling satisfied that you were the one making him react like this.
You rubbed his thigh, trying to get him to relax a little, and that seemed to work when his breath stabled out.
Now he could feel that feeling he was searching so desperately for,
He tried to gently nudge your head away when he felt himself cumming, but you pushed his hands away.
“Y/n, fuck, oh my god,” he felt all of his muscles tense. His whole body felt paralyzed for a moment. He’s never felt anything so intense.
You sucked him through his high, making sure to collect all his cum. His throat felt dry as small whines of pleasure slipped past his lips.
After a quick breather, he finally caught his bearings, looking for something you could spit into,
Before he could get something, you had already swallowed every single drop. releasing his cock from your mouth and licking the corners of your lips.
“Y/n, you didn’t have to” he didn’t want you to feel obligated to do anything.
“But you make it so easy to want to” you encircled your arms around his waist, kissing up his chest.
“That tickles,” you both giggled as he made you straddle his lap again, kissing your lips.
“So, shall I take you home now?” He smiled at you. You nodded your head smiling back at him. He mimicked your head movement, touching his forehead to yours. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” you kissed him one more time.
You both got dressed and cleaned up as best as you could, and not even ten minutes later, you were staring at your apartment building, finding it hard to separate.
You wanted to exchange numbers.
There’s no way he took a liking to me this early on, so opting to say nothing sounds better than to make a fool of myself.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you for the ride?” He raised his eyebrow.
“Stop that,” you said half jokingly.
“Okay, I’m sorry.” a few beats of silence passed. “well, have a goodnight, y/n. I had a lot of fun, and not just cause we had, you know.” He played with the loose thread on his steering wheel.
“Me too. Thank you for making my night” you leaned over and kissed his cheek.
“No need to thank me.” He blinked rapidly. everything felt like a dream, and all you did was kiss him on the cheek.
“Bye, heeseung, it was nice meeting you. Drive safe”
It was now or never, but who am I kidding? There’s no way she feels the same. So to save me the embarrassment of rejection, I’ll send her off with one last goodbye.
“I will, bye y/n,” you waved to him one last time before entering your apartment.
He watched you get in safely and drove off, wishing he could drive you home every night.
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What’s up, my beautiful people? Hope you all been doing great. This was supposed to be short, but it turned out being kinda long anyways I hope you all enjoy it, thank you for rocking with me, and thank you for 900 followers! Could have never come this far without you all.🥳🤎
Likes and reblogs are always appreciated. Sorry for any typos/errors. Hope you enjoy! Have a good day/night
🏷permanent taglist @hee-in @jayroseyy @axartia @bunhoons @ashxsmoon @lhsggg @scarlet127 @kpopscruggles @badidealy @heeseungleeworld @duolingofanaccount if you want to be added or removed, just leave an ask or comment.
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familyvideostevie · 1 year
Note
A top gun anon (again - hi I’m obsessed).
If you’re taking rooster requests I’ll probably love ANYTHING you write but like, sick fic rooster? Or idk even cocky enemies-to-lovers rooster is the vibe.
But seriously, anything. 💕
hi! thank you for being so patient, i know you sent this ages ago! i went with bradley taking care of you when you're sick <3 | fem!reader, sick fic, fluff, 1.2k
"Did you feel sick when you woke up?" Bradley's voice is crackly over the phone. Reception on the base is touch and go, so you're lucky to have gotten through to him at all.
"No," you mutter. "Well, not really. Not enough to do anything about it."
It's mostly true. When your boyfriend had gotten up at his usual 4am hour for a run before heading to work to teach cocky young aviators how to fly million-dollar hunks of metal, you'd felt fine. Tired, obviously, but used to accepting his kiss goodbye and going back to sleep. The faint ache at your temple hadn't registered until you'd woken up only an hour later, the sun barely in the sky, to a full-blown headache. And after that came chills, nausea, and a low fever. 
"Do you want me to come home early?" Bradley asks. You pull your phone away from your face and squint at it. It's only 1pm and you know he's meant to teach until at least 5. But you're feeling pretty sorry for yourself in your nest of blankets and your growing pile of tissues and you want him to hold you.
"No need," you say. You can handle a few more hours. "I called to ask you to pick up some stuff on your way home though, if you don't mind."
He scoffs and you can practically hear the exasperated raise of his eyebrows. "If I don't mind. That fever really has messed with your head, huh?" There's a shuffling sound, like he's moving the phone to his other ear. "I'll get all the good stuff," he tells you. "Top shelf flu medicine and soup and Gatorade and anything else you want. Any special requests?"
You shut your eyes and feel the bridge of your nose start to sting. You've been together long enough that it shouldn't get to you -- the ease of Bradley's love. The way he does things above and beyond for you from the simplest of tasks to big romantic gestures. It makes your heart constrict in your chest and you want more than anything to hold him right now. 
"No," you say thickly. "Just you, Bradley." He sighs over the phone. It sounds like longing. 
"Okay, sweetheart," he says, voice softer. "You took something, right? Like, Tylenol, or --"
"Yeah," you tell him, sniffling a little and hoping he doesn't hear it. "Yeah, I'm in bed under like, every blanket in the house and I took some with a piece of toast about an hour ago."
Someone calls Bradley's callsign in the background. He ignores it. "Go to sleep or something and I'll be home when you wake up, yeah?" You hear Rooster! again.
"Get back to work, Lieutenant," you whisper. He laughs. "Love you," you add.
"Love you back," he says immediately. "Get some rest, sick girl."
You do as he says, curling under the blankets and doing your best to doze. It seems to work, since your eyes pop open who knows how long later to the sound of the front door closing. You blink blearily and feel your head pounding, still. You're hot instead of cold which means your fever hasn't budged and you feel disgusting. Maybe Bradley will draw you a bath if you ask. 
Speaking of -- either you're being robbed or your boyfriend is home. The covers seem to have eaten your phone but you fish it out and check the time -- only 3pm. You've only been asleep for a little while and he's home way too early, so you roll yourself out of bed with a groan, taking a blanket with you even though you're sweating a little. 
Bradley is in the kitchen unloading two stuffed bags, his back to you. You watch him pull out soups from your favorite deli, far too many bottles of your favorite flavor of Gatorade, and an entire pharmacy's worth of cold and flu meds.
"Did you buy the whole store?" you say, voice scratchy from sleep. You sound sick to your own ears. Your boyfriend whips around and his shoulders loosen at the sight of you, though his brows are drawn tight with concern. 
"Should you be out of bed?" he scolds, though his arms reach for you as he does. "C'mere." You shuffle into his space and he gently rests one hand on your cheek and presses the back of the other to your forehead. "Still hot," he mutters.
"I'm always hot," you tease, though it comes out halfhearted as you're hit with another round of shivers. Bradley smirks but his brows don't unfurl. "You're home early."
He strokes the skin below your eye before turning back to the counter to put his purchases away. He doesn't have to be in uniform to teach, but he wore it today, so he must have had some meetings. Even in your sick state, you admire how handsome he is. "Couldn't leave you home sick all alone, could I?" he says. You amble over to the kitchen stools and plop into one before you fall over. Your head is still pounding.
"You could have," you tell him. He leaves out one Gatorade, a dose of cold and flu medicine, and a container of soup.
"I'll rephrase," he says. "I missed you and I wanted to come home to take care of you." The bridge of your nose starts to burn again. You close your eyes. It feels silly to be so overwhelmed but you can't help it. Everything hurts and you're feeling sorry for yourself and you have the most perfect man in the world ready and willing to take care of you. It's basic, expected behavior from someone who loves you but it never ceases to feel like a miracle. 
"I'm glad you're home," you whisper. You hear Bradley walk towards you, feel him slide next to your stool. You open your eyes to find him close, looking at you with tenderness and fondness and concern all wrapped in one. "I feel like shit," you say, laughing a little wetly. 
"My poor baby," Bradley sighs. You twist in your seat and reach for him, blanketed arms winding around his waist as he pulls you to him, face pressed into his chest and his arms looping around your shoulders. He strokes your hair and you cringe to think about how it's kind of dirty. But you don't linger on it and instead breathe him in -- he smells like oil, desert wind, and cologne. He smells like home.
"Here's what I'm thinking," he says. "I run you a bath and you soak while the soup heats up and I change the sheets and then we get some meds and liquids in you. And then we can get in bed and watch a movie, or something."
"Okay," you say into his shirt. You pull away to look up at him. "That sounds nice." Bradley smiles at you and cups your cheek, bringing his face down for a kiss. You press a palm to his mouth. "You'll get sick," you chide.
He kisses your hand before drawing it away. "I've got an immune system of steel. And if I do, you'll just take care of me." It's not a question, it's not a joke. It's just a fact and you both know it. You take care of each other. 
"Okay," you say softly, before pressing your lips to his. It's a chaste kiss but it's a familiar one. It's I'm here, I'm home. It's you're safe, you're going to be okay. It's I love you.
"Bath," Bradley mumbles against your mouth. "Let's go, sick girl."
thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!
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burningupp · 1 year
Text
Fated Friends | lmh
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skz masterlist
pairing: lee minho x f!reader
warnings: female reader (i'm sorry, i promise to branch out one day), reader has a kid, heavily based off of gilmore girls bc it's my comfort show, slight health scare, not proofread lol
summary: minho isn't a very outwardly emotional guy, and honestly, he's come to be comfortable that way. weird how the kind of person he's sure to be the bane of his existence ends up breaking that habit, huh?
a/n: this is going to be at least two parts... yeah. i'm sorry. anyway i hope you enjoy this, whatever it is. also, sorry for any eventual grammar mistakes; i am not a native english speaker, so be gentle with me pls 🙏 also, i have had this as a wip for a while so using this as an excuse to complete the november clownracha prompt! @wooyussy @sunnytaes
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The diner was busy. Minho hadn’t been running it for that long, just two years and some change, but it had still become somewhat of a staple in their little town. There were regulars who came in almost every day for at least one meal, and even though he might not show it outwardly, he really enjoyed making them food they seemed to appreciate.
There was a routine to it all, and it made him feel safe. The first six months he’d had absolutely no idea what he was doing, and it had been terrifying. Once he got past the insecurity, he’d felt good. He had managed to do what his father had done before him and run a successful business. Granted, his father had been running a hardware store before he died, not a diner, but it was close enough in his mind.
Once a year had passed, he started to feel bored instead of good. He loved his diner, and he loved running it, but he felt like there was no excitement in his life (unless you counted burning himself on oil from the deep fryer, of course - that had definitely led him to an eventful few weeks without the use of his left hand). Since he was running his own business, there was practically no rest for him. He had taken a total of two days off since starting the diner, but only because he actually did have to go to the hospital (courtesy of the fryer-incident) and the dentist.
The days that the diner was busy were good. There was no time to think about how he missed fishing and camping, how he hadn’t flirted with a woman since all this started, and much less been on a date with one. There had been a few customers, mostly tourists passing through, who had flirted with him before. He had always been generally awkward, stuttering his way through the interaction and then suffered through the teasing of the older women who lived in the small town and had known him since he was in diapers. It was great, obviously.
And then someone showed up and broke his routine entirely.
It was a busy day, the town selectman had been arranging a festival of some sort to “encourage tourism” which meant that Minho had a whole lot more customers than usual. He was running around taking and delivering orders, refilling coffees, and wiping down tables as fast as he could. He inwardly sighs when he hears the bell over the door ring again, because as much as he loves running a successful business, he’s busy enough as it is.
“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he says over his shoulder as he’s wiping down a table.
“No but see, I don’t have a moment,” a woman’s voice says back, a sort of panicky twinge to it that makes him turn around to look at her.
She’s gorgeous. Her eyes are shining in the sunlight streaming through the windows, and her hair is a tangled mess. Her clothing is a bit rumpled, and she’s not wearing any make-up, but suddenly the urge to flirt has returned to him from the dead. Then he hears the bell signaling food is ready, and he’s snapped out of his brief stupor.
“Yeah, well,” he starts, moving toward the two plates readily waiting for him on the counter, “neither do I. Wait or go somewhere else for coffee.”
Once he’s grabbed the food and turned around to give it to the customers at one of the tables in the corner, he is immediately stopped in his tracks as the woman is standing two feet in front of him with a gleam in her eyes that somehow both intrigues and terrifies him.
“No but you don’t understand,” she starts, and Minho heaves a sigh as he dodges around her to actually complete the order delivery, “my coffee machine at home broke, and my five-year-old is sick so I had to stay up all night, and the coffee at work has run out and so I am here, desperately begging you for like five cups of coffee before I collapse in a heap on the street and it’s all your fault.”
The woman follows him to the table and keeps incessantly nagging, and the only thing he can think is wait, she has a five-year-old? She doesn’t look older than 20 or so, if even that. At least that gave him a reason to stop looking at her beautiful eyes, stop his stupid heart from wanting him to talk and flirt with her, because he cannot handle a kid. He kind of hates kids, honestly - they’re always sticky, and never have intelligent answers to anything, and always get on his nerves.
“Listen, it sounds like your day isn’t going particularly well and I have the utmost sympathy for that having had a few bad ones myself, but I have a diner full of hungry people, so if coffee is all you want I’m gonna have to ask you to wait.”
At this, the woman gasps out loud, her eyes widening and jaw dropping indignantly.
“Excuse you? Just coffee? This is classism! Discrimination! You’re the one who serves coffee in the first place, which I know by the way because I saw someone with a take-away cup with your logo on it, and if you don’t want my business then I guess I should just leave.”
This makes Minho snort out loud and turn to her bemusedly. “Fine by me.”
She lets out another indignant gasp and goes up to the counter, grabbing a newspaper that’s just lying there. He hears the bell signaling another order is done, and goes to fetch the plates, but he keeps her in the corner of his eye.
“You,” she says when he walks past her to take another order, “what’s your zodiac sign?”
He stops in his tracks and turns to stare at her. What in the world was this woman even doing in here? She must be some kind of crazy. Or many kinds, he mutters in his own head.
“Well if you’re not gonna tell me, I’m just going to assume which one,” she says defiantly, staring at him for a moment before huffing. “Okay, taurus it is then.” She then grabs a pen, writes something on the section of horoscopes in the newspaper and tears it out, holding it out to him. “Take it,” she says when he just keeps staring.
“Why should I?” He asks in confusion, and she huffs again.
“Because you should read your horoscope, of course,” she says in a tone that implies he’s being an idiot. Boy, does he feel like one when he takes the note. It says Give the crazy woman a cup of coffee, or she’ll never leave you alone. 
“What is this?” He asks exasperatedly, spotting the customers wanting to order becoming impatient.
“It’s your horoscope, duh,” she replies, rolling her eyes at him. “You should do what it says and keep it, I’ve heard that horoscopes have been updated to be the same every day from now on.”
“Every- just fix your coffee-maker, or better yet, get a new one!” Minho finds himself yelling back, and the woman just smirks at him.
“No, I like my old one, my kid put googly eyes on it and we named him Lambert. Now get me my coffee so I can get back to work on time!” Minho stares at her for a bit longer. “You do know that if you’d just given me the coffee when I asked for it I would have been gone already, right?”
He realizes that she’s right, even though he hates to admit it. He gives her a stern glance and goes to take the couple in the corner’s order first before quickly pouring four cups of coffee and handing them to her in a cardboard tray.
Once she gets them, she gives him a huge smile that makes his stomach do a flip before grabbing them and running out the door - not before giving him more money than the coffee is worth. He huffs, staring after her through the window for a moment before being pulled back to reality by the loud clearing of a throat - a customer wants to order.
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A few days later, it’s the middle of the afternoon lull. All the dishes are done, all unused tables are cleared, and Minho is filling salt and pepper shakers at the counter when the bell above the door signals that someone entered the diner. He looks up and immediately regrets it when he sees the crazy woman from before accompanied by a little kid.
He begrudgingly has to admit, he had been thinking about her a lot. Her eyes had been so captivating, and the smile she had given him before leaving had made him feel completely out of his depth somehow. Every time he poured a cup of coffee for someone, all he could think about was her. Which is crazy, because he doesn’t even know her name.
This time, her hair is let down and styled in gentle waves. Her clothes aren’t rumpled, and she’s wearing make-up. And yet, the one thing that pulls Minho in is her eyes. Well, that and her absolute angel of a kid. The kid’s eyes are the exact same shade as her mother’s, her cheeks round and rosy, her hair long and neatly brushed, and her bag so full of books it hangs slightly open due to the zipper not being able to close all the way around the sheer volume of them. Her mother helps her hop onto a chair at a table, taking the bag and placing it on the floor. The little girl immediately reaches to grab a book out of it, but her mother snatches it mid-air and places it on the other side of her own chair, out of her daughter’s reach.
“But mom,” the little girl whines with such an adorable pout Minho is sure he would have given in after 0.2 seconds flat, but the woman just shakes her head.
“I know you want to read, and I’m really really glad about that, but we’re gonna be eating now, honey. You don’t want those library books to get all sticky, now do you?”
At her mother’s words, the little girl gasps and shakes her head. It’s the cutest thing he’s seen all day. “I would never let them! That’s gross, and I would probably be fined!” Then she gasps again, her eyes even wider than before. “Would it get put in a record somewhere?!”
Minho expects her mother to simply calm her down, tell her that she probably won’t be put on some list of wrong-doers and that, even if she was put on one, it wouldn’t have any consequences other than a $2 fine.
“Oh yes, you’ll be put on a record. It might even go to the police,” is what she says instead, and Minho blanches. Aren’t you supposed to comfort kids instead of scare them?
“No way,” the little girl says, eyes still wide as saucers.
“Yes way,” her mother says with a straight face and a playful tone. “They’ll put you on a list, and then they will forward it to the police, and they will pay to have a man with a camera to follow you around and take pictures whenever you make a mess. Then all those pictures will be sent to Harvard when you apply.”
The story is ridiculous, and yet… Minho finds himself smiling. It’s kind of funny. Then he starts to fear that the kid is going to cry. He really can’t handle children crying, he hates the sound of it and never knows how to fix it so he gets all panicky and ends up leaving most of the time. (It also kind of breaks his heart, but no one needs to know that.) However, the little girl doesn’t cry. Instead, she grins at her mother.
“Ah yes, whatever shall I do.”
At her response, her mother huffs happily and ruffles her daughter’s hair. The little girl opens a menu and starts browsing through it, looking remarkably concerned as she reads it over. Her mother starts looking around, and suddenly locks eyes with him. She smiles awkwardly. That’s when Minho pulls himself together and realizes he should go take their order. He clears his throat and walks over to their table.
“You’re back,” he remarks in a monotone.
“Ah, yeah,” she says, looking down at her hands on the table. “What are the chances I didn’t act quite as crazy as I remember? Because what is crazy when you think about it, you know?”
“Well, I’m not a doctor, but I would say you qualify,” Minho answers before he really registers what’s going through his head. He freezes, scared that he offended her. She might get on his nerves (kind of), but he doesn’t want to be mean nonetheless. He might lose a customer, after all.
“I agree,” the little girl chimes in, looking up from the menu and grinning at Minho so brightly he’s sure it could have blinded him. He feels his heart squeeze tight. “Mom gets crazy when she doesn’t get her coffee.”
“Hm, well I don’t think you’re old enough to know whether I’m crazy or not, missy,” the woman responds, sticking her tongue out at her daughter, which the little girl does right back.
“I read more than you do, so I would say I am more qualified to make a judgment on that than you are,” the woman’s daughter bites back with a sarcastic grin, and Minho just stares as the woman rolls her eyes and calls her daughter a nerd under her breath with a proud smile through it all.
Having to move on for the sake of his sanity (because if he gets any more opportunities to stare at the woman’s eyes and demeanor and general presence he will absolutely lose it - out of frustration or attraction is unclear), he clears his throat a little and raises the notepad and pencil he has at the ready to take their orders.
“Oh, right,” the woman sighs, grabbing a menu and flipping through it quickly. “I’ll have a cheeseburger with fries, a milkshake, a grilled cheese, two donuts and a cup of coffee. Hana?”
Minho just blankly stares at the woman, shocked at the amount of food she had ordered just for herself. It’s 4pm and she ordered food for at least two people? Then again, he muses to himself, she did have a kid so there was probably a husband around somewhere. Maybe they were meeting up and having an early dinner before the town meeting that night?
He tries not to think too hard about the notion of her having a husband; it’s stupid to be disappointed, especially when he still doesn’t know her name or really anything about her except for her crippling caffeine addiction.
“I want a cheeseburger, too,” the little girl - Hana - says thoughtfully, chewing on her lip. “Oh, and can I have extra fries, please?” He can’t say no to her adorable angel-like face (just as he predicted), and just nods, so she continues. “I also want a milkshake and a chocolate muffin, please.”
Her bizarre order goes over his head first, as he is distracted by the little girl’s impeccable manners and the thought that maybe, just maybe, all children aren’t demons, but then he registers what she said and raises his eyebrows as high as they can go.
“Are you sure? That’s a lot of food,” he points out gently. She thinks for a second, chewing on her bottom lip again, and then nods firmly.
“Yes, please,” she says, and he just nods.
“Okay then,” Minho says, half expecting her mother to chime in and tell her that no, it’s a Wednesday and she can’t have that many sweets, but nothing comes aside from an indulging smile.
He goes to the kitchen, tearing the page he had written on out of his notepad  and handing it to the chef dazedly. Then he turns around to look at the table again, and just stares. There was no way that little girl could eat that much food, was there?
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As it turns out, there was. Minho watches in astonished horror as the sweet angelic little girl puts away a cheeseburger, extra fries, a milkshake and a chocolate muffin. Who really takes the cake, however, is Hana’s mother. His theory about the father joining them had evidently been entirely false, as the food that already had been a tall order for thwo people to consume had been completely devoured by no one except a mid-sized woman and her tiny six-year-old. On top of that, halfway through their meal, the older woman had ordered an extra plate of chili fries. How in the world those were gone in ten minutes, Minho would never know, and he is pretty happy that he can escape that knowledge.
When they are done eating, Hana’s mother patiently helps her wipe down their table so she can take out her homework and get started on it. She then looks around until she finds Minho and waves at him to come over with a smile. He ignores the somersault his stomach does at the gesture.
“Want to pay?” he asks, fully expecting that to be the case.
“Uhm, not yet. Could I just have another cup of coffee?” the woman asks, and he decides enough is enough.
“You do know caffeine is horrible for your health, right? So are burgers, fries, chili fries even more so, donuts and milkshakes,” he points out, fully expecting a screaming match. To his surprise, the woman just smiles brighter.
“Sure I know that. So, my cup of coffee?”
He just blinks in pure astonishment. He then turns around and goes behind the counter to grab the pot of coffee, returning to their table to fill her cup. Then the little girl looks up.
“Excuse me mister, what’s your name?”
The way the little girl has him wrapped around her finger already is terrifying. His heart is melting, he feels the urge to be all sappy and ask her about school, her friends and her hobbies, and play games with her or something. Whatever would make her smile. He has no idea where that urge came from.
“Uh, it’s Lee Minho,” he answers dumbly, looking down into those innocently sparkling eyes.
“Okay. Mr. Lee, could I have some orange soda, please? I’m a bit thirsty,” she says, and he feels the need to save the poor girl from her mother’s habits. Not really, but he is a healthy man himself, and he wants a kid like her to live a long, healthy and happy life.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer some water, then?” he asks gently, but when she shakes her head, he just sighs. “Coming right up. Oh, and you can just call me Minho.”
“Okay. Thank you, Minho. My name is Hana, and this is my mom Y/n. It’s nice to meet you,” she beams at him, and he feels himself melt once more. Damn it.
“Nice to meet you too, Hana,” he says and goes to fetch her soda.
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Since that first afternoon the L/N girls visited his diner, Minho sees them at least three times a week for the next 3 years. Well, he sees Y/n pretty much every morning for her regular coffee fix. Apparently they did manage to fix Lambert, but apparently his coffee was “better than anything Lambert could ever make.” They told him vehemently that Lambert could never know this, and he had to keep it a secret from him. They both now greet him by name, and they usually have a quick chat about what’s going on, just like he does with some other regulars.
Then again, he can’t exactly claim that he is quite as interested in the other regulars as he is in the mother-daughter duo. He asks them about work and school, and they pull him into their debates over stupid stuff (that Hana almost always wins), and he finds himself enjoying it. It must be something about their positive outlook on life, or how crazy smart Hana is, or just about how excited they are about seemingly dull and boring things. They talked about the little town’s makeshift cinema as if it was entertainment of the highest degree, better than most things you can do in big cities, despite it being someone’s living room with a cheap projector and a popcorn machine. He does not understand it, but it sure is refreshing.
He’s still just as smitten with Hana as he was the first day, if not more. She’s intelligent and funny, and even though she does certain childish things, she largely feels like an innocent grown-up. He had once asked her about a book she was reading, which turned into a (one-sided) debate on different classical writers and their influence on both society and one another, and he was lost in the first minute. He briefly wondered if her mother had any idea what she was talking about, but it quickly became clear that she did not.
Then one day, only Y/n comes bursting through the door of the diner, during mid-morning no less. She is almost frantic, breathing hard and fast, eyes wild and hair ruffled.
“Minho!” she exclaims when she sees him, body sagging in relief. “I need your help.”
He immediately sets down the pot of coffee, walking towards her with furrowed brows. “What’s wrong?”
“My coffee?” a customer says impatiently.
“Bite me,” Minho responds over his shoulder without hesitation.
“It’s Hana,” she breathes, tears welling in her eyes. Minho puts a hand on her shoulder as he feels his heart speed up to a truly concerning pace. He doesn’t know if he’s trying to make her feel better, or if it’s purely to steady himself, but he thinks it doesn’t matter. “She-she has this, uhm… this stomach ache, and a really, really high fever, a-and it won’t go away and I was, uhm, I was reading this book, and,” a breath leaves her in a whoosh before she gulps down another one, “and it said something about if pressure on her stomach makes her feel better, she should go to the hospital because it might be appendicitis so I was going to take her to the hospital, but my stupid car won’t s-start and I need…” she stops and takes a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before looking at him with absolute fire in her eyes. “I need you to take us. Please.”
Minho’s brain is going a mile a minute. He thinks about nothing except for that poor girl in pain. He thinks about how awful he feels whenever he has a fever, and how much worse it must be for such a tiny, innocent little girl. And then he thinks about whether or not she’s staying warm despite her high temperature, because he heard something about keeping the temperature up helping the body beat viruses and bacteria and making you healthy faster. And then he thinks about what he should be doing in this position, because he’s never been a father bef-
And then he stops. He stops and thinks about the fact that he is not her father. He is not the person who should be worrying like this. He is not the person Y/n should be turning to, because she should have a support system in her husband, and he wonders why in the world her husband isn’t currently breaking a million traffic laws speeding down the highway to get his daughter into capable hands. And then…
He doesn’t like to think about it too much, but sometimes he can’t stop himself. Mainly when it’s late at night, and the town is quiet, and all he can hear is the hum of his broiler and the light shifting of the sheets whenever he breathes. That’s when he can’t stop his mind from imagining. Imagining being Hana’s father. God, how proud he would be. He imagines walking her to school, buying her gifts for her birthday and spoiling her without spoiling her too much because he still wants her to be a rational adult some day. He imagines cooking for her, imagines the day he gets her absolute favorite food right, and the way that Y/n would be in the kitchen while he cooks, sitting at the kitchen table in the house they would have, talking absolute nonsense with their daughter. He imagines waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of Hana getting a glass of water in the kitchen, only to roll over in bed and find Y/n, his wife, right there, sleeping soundly beside him.
That’s usually when he stops himself. But this time, he imagines that whole situation. And then he imagines Y/n, his (hypothetical) wife, asking another man to help her take his sick daughter to the hospital, and he can’t do it. So he does what he has been so diligently avoiding, and asks her.
“What about her father?”
Minho’s voice is gentle, and he looks into Y/n’s eyes just as softly. He wants her to understand that he would do absolutely anything for Hana, hell, he would do anything for her because he has no doubts that he is so in love with her he would marry her on the spot even though they’ve barely broached the basics about one another, but in this particular instant he really does not want to step on any toes.
But then, she scoffs. She scoffs at him, rolls her eyes, and her jaw clenches a bit. It’s a clear signal to him that her father is most likely not an option at the moment.
“Okay I know we haven’t talked about this and we really should, and I promise you we will, but please can we talk about it when my daughter is not in excruciating pain and needs her mommy? Please?”
So he lets go of all his preconceived notions and nods. He squeezes her shoulder once, then turns around and grabs his keys. He doesn’t even glance into the kitchen as he yells for his chef, Felix, to handle things for the rest of the day, even though he hears a startled and confused shout right before the door swings shut behind the pair of them, because he thinks that as long as Hana and Y/n are okay, his business could burn down for all he cares.
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They get to the hospital okay, and Hana is immediately ushered into an exam room and then to an operating room. Minho isn’t in the exam room with them, but he does go to see the little girl off before the surgery.
“I’m scared,” she whispers to her mother, eyes shiny with unshed tears, but her mother just shushes her with a calm smile.
“That’s okay. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere except for the waiting room and maybe the cafeteria until you can come home with me.”
“Even if Channing Tatum asks you on a date right now?”
“Mm, I would have to consider it, but I think that if Channing can’t wait, we weren’t meant to be anyhow,” Y/n teases her daughter who just giggles in response. Then Hana turns to Minho.
“Thank you for driving us,” she says meekly, and he feels his heart twist and crush into a ball in his chest. “You really didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to, little one,” he smiles gently, and she reaches out a hand to him which he grasps immediately. “Thank you for letting me see you off before your surgery.”
“I’m glad you did,” she says back, eyes a little less teary. Then she gets a thoughtful look on her face. “Do you think I’ll have a cool scar?”
He can’t help himself and scoffs a little laugh, squeezing her hand encouragingly. He sees Y/n smile too, and he has somehow never felt as complete as he does in that exact moment. It scares him. It’s not real. But he will keep pretending for as long as he can.
“The coolest,” he answers before the doctors let them know that the OR is ready for them.
Minho and Y/n walk out to the waiting room and sink onto the chairs heavily. He is briefly impressed by how well she seemed to be handling everything, before he turns to her and sees her shaking, tears streaming down her face. She seems to be holding her breath, too, probably not wishing to openly sob in a hospital waiting room.
He briefly considers his options of hugging her or not before deciding that screw it, she needs comfort and he’s there so he will provide it for her. He smiles gently despite his heart breaking in his chest at her tears, and gets in front of her to half-crouch so he can give her a hug.
For a second he worries that he overstepped her boundaries, but then he feels her completely melt into his embrace and bury her face in his shoulder to muffle the sobs she no longer can hold back and shield her tear-streaked face from the other people in the room. She relaxes so much that they almost fall onto the floor, and Minho decides that it’s best to just pick her up in his arms and settle on one of the chairs with her in his lap.
It’s a horrible moment. She’s crying, sobbing, shaking, and he can’t do anything except hold her there. The woman who was so strong, so determined and so unique just crumbled in his arms like a tower of sand. He doesn’t say anything, just holds her. He puts a hand on the back of her head, the other remaining around her waist as she sits horizontally across his lap. He gently squeezes whenever her sobs get louder or her breathing picks up, just reminding her that he is there and he will remain there until she asks him not to.
After twenty minutes or so, her crying subsides into regular sniffling, and he feels her pull back from his shoulder to wipe at her face with the sleeve of her shirt. Then she clears her throat and sits up a bit straighter on his lap.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice still shaky.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m just happy to help,” Minho says sincerely.
And it is sincere. There is nothing that has ever fulfilled him more than this moment, helping and feeling useful and needed and wanted. It’s a sad moment, awful even, but he feels like there is nowhere else he would rather be either way.
He has come to terms with the fact that he views Hana as family. He sees her so often, and she always talks to him, listens to what he has to say almost as if she admires him, and it fills his heart more than anything. When she gets full points on her homework, as she always does, no one (except her mother) is more proud than he is. As long as he gets to be in her life, he is happy.
“God, I’m sorry for bursting in there and just babbling and making you take us,” Y/n breathes out as if she didn’t hear him. “You really didn’t have to, but I pushed and now you probably hate us bo-”
“Impossible,” he interrupts, and Y/n stops rambling. “You two are part of my routine now. I care, you know?”
She gazes at him in shock, searching for any trace of insincerity. When she doesn’t find one, her face slowly melts into a fond smile despite the fear still present on her face. He briefly thinks that she never looked more beautiful, although he’s pretty sure he thinks that every time he lays eyes on her.
“Thank you, Minho,” she sighs out, slumping a bit again.
She seems to realize she’s still firmly positioned on his lap, and immediately gets up, clearing her throat. He immediately mourns the loss of her weight on him, but doesn’t say anything.
“So, I think I promised you a talk about Hana’s dad,” she says after a few moments of silence.
“Oh, that,” Minho says, suddenly feeling like a douche. “Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. It has nothing to do with me anyway. I just wanted to make sure I don’t… make a situation uncomfortable.”
Y/n snorts, and he immediately shuts up. What’s that supposed to mean? Did he say something stupid?
“Minho, how many times have we been at your diner in the past few years?” she starts, an unreadable look on her face. He thinks it’s unnatural how she manages to look beautiful even in hospital lighting. “I can’t count the amount of times. If her dad was around, don’t you think that he would have shown up, or we would have mentioned him at least once?”
He casts his mind back over the years, and realizes it might have been a stupid question. Then again, some fathers weren’t very present in their children’s lives. Maybe he lived out of the country, or he worked night shifts so he was always asleep during the day. He had no way of knowing.
“I don’t know,” he answers after a few moments. “Some people are just like that, I guess.”
She slowly nods, mulling over his words for a second. “I suppose,” she then says, smiling faintly. “He kind of is, actually. Either way, to set the record straight; her father - Changbin - isn’t in the picture.” When he failed to mask his intrigue at the answer, she just laughed a little. “I got pregnant at 16. He wanted to get married, but I didn’t. Kind of glad now, to be honest - I doubt he will ever grow up.” Her words hold an edge of irritation, but she is evidently trying to push that feeling back. “He talks to Hana on the phone sometimes, when he gets the time. Last we talked I’m pretty sure he said he was in Ibiza? It doesn’t really matter. I have Hana, and she has me, and we’re okay like this. We learned not to expect too much from him long ago - not that we were expecting much in the first place.”
Minho listens until Y/n stops talking. He struggles a bit to figure out what he thinks of the situation. At least the man had offered to do the right thing, he supposes. Then again, from the sound of it Y/n had made the right decision in not marrying that guy, whoever he is. He comes to the conclusion that it doesn’t actually matter. Like she said, the two of them have one another, and if they say that’s enough, then he believes them.
“Okay. Thank you for telling me, and letting me know I wasn’t severely pissing some dude off for acting like a father to his daughter for a few hours,” he jokes mildly, and then regrets it. He shouldn’t have said father. Just because he sees Hana as a sort of surrogate daughter does not mean that she or her mother feel the same way, or even think that it’s okay.
But then Y/n smiles softly again, and he can relax. “Yeah. She’s lucky to have someone who does.”
His heart feels like it’s beating in his throat, his body warm from the inside due to all the feelings filling his chest. God, he wishes he had the courage to offer to do it always, to move in and help Y/n with raising her daughter because he knows that she must have it hard at times, no matter how angelic Hana is. But he doesn’t. So he just nods and smiles.
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all54321 · 11 months
Text
A “Delivery”
Part 2, Part 3
I’ve seen people talk about the Clocker’s being a mafia especially with how they’re called “the Family” in addition to the cousin thing between them and the Bad Boys being a cover for an alliance. So, here’s a Limited Life Mafia AU.
The Clocker’s family is a true family, all related to each other. Etho left them to join the TIES, they do not have a good relationship due to this. Grian and Scar are majorly crushing on each other, but neither have said anything.
The Bad Boys own a bakery as a cover for what they actually do. It’s a good way to discreetly keep an eye on the people of the city, they’re all amazing bakers, surprisingly.
These guys have a lot of codes to appear casual and not like they’re the mafia. Even if they’re alone, can’t be too careful who’s listening after all.
—————
Grian hands off the baked good to the customer, waving to them with a smile. It drops the moment they exit the bakery with a sigh. He loves working at the Bread Boys Bakery, of course he does, but he’s waiting on a certain someone to visit and he’s getting impatient. A ding interrupts him, and he quickly goes to the oven to check of the cupcakes, they’re one of the quickest selling things they sell, and they’re already almost out of stock.
Grian hears a chime of a bell, signaling someone entering, “just a moment!” He grabs the oven mitts and carefully takes the tray out and sets it to the side to cool. He turns around, donning the fake smile again, “what can I do-“ he trails off as he sees it was Scar who entered and his grin turns genuine.
Scar casts a glance around the store, making sure no one else was inside before approaching the counter and leaning on it. He tilts his head down to peer over his yellow tinted glass to look at Grian, “well hello there.”
Grian rolls his eyes with a fond huff, “those glasses aren’t that helpful for a cover.”
He straightens up, faking an offended look, “it’s stylish.”
“What can I do for you?” Grian asks, ignoring the response.
“Well, I was hoping for a delivery, for a party my mom is hosting.”
“Oh?” Grian says intrigued, it wasn’t what he was expecting that’s for sure. “Big party?”
He nods, expression briefly flickering to something extremely serious before his falsely cheerful expression replaces it. “Very big, it’s important you ‘boys’ make it. It’s for tomorrow, at 1.”
“Tomorrow?” Grian asks, giving the other a knowing look.
“Well, uh, you know,” Scar stumbles, seeming caught off guard.
He laughs, “yeah, I got it. What’s your order?”
There’s a slight hesitation as he considers, “the usual.”
Grian nods, “got it, we’ll see you then.”
Scar gives him a dazzling smile, but he’s interrupted by the ding of the bell. Without even a change in his expression he replies, “thanks, I’ll see you for the delivery.”
“Yup!” Grian replies, with a knowing grin, he glances to see the new customer slowly walking around, staring into the display shelves. Scar gives him a final nod before leaving.
~
Grian arrives back at home to see his fellow Bad Boys lounging around. Joel sits up upon seeing him, “heard from them?”
He nods, “yup, seems like something big is going down tomorrow, they want all of us there.”
“For support or backup?” Jimmy asks with a knowing look.
“Support, it seems, but we should be prepared if it goes South.”
“Know who it is?”
“Scar didn’t say, but if you want my guess, TIES at the very least.”
“Oh this will go so well.” Joel says with a quiet chuckle.
Grian slaps him on the back of the head, “this is serious.”
“He’s not exactly wrong,” Jimmy says, leaning a little away from Grian, “Cleo and Etho in the same room?”
He just sighs, shaking his head, “maybe, but we need to still have tact. I won’t help you if Cleo hears anything like this.”
They both pale a little at that, Joel responding a moment later, “r-right.”
“Let’s prepare for this party, now.”
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void-writing · 1 year
Text
really enjoying episode 4 of Scarlet Hollow and i want to put together some miscellaneous thoughts about my experiences so far
Spoilers to follow, so I’ll put it under a cut :)
Sybil and the Cat
As much as it pains me, I do not trust Sybil. She was setting off so many alarms for me this chapter during the tea meeting. Like, she has fucking castor beans in her tea room--which if you picked the Book Smart trait are revealed to be full of ricin aka: one of the deadliest poisons ever that was used by KGB to carry out stealth assassinations because you only need a tiny dose for it to be lethal and there is no antidote. And when we see it again in the clinic’s medicine room, we recognize it but somehow we can’t remember where we saw it even though we were just at Sybil’s tea room and when we ask Dr. Kelly how she settled on using ricin to subdue Reese’s...condition...we mysteriously don’t hear who Dr. Kelly went to for it. I 100% believe that Kelly got it from Sybil because she claimed she had an “errand” to run on Main Street (aka, where the General Store is) when Reese distracted her.
Also, Sybil is definitely doing something to Kaneeka. There is something in that tea that makes her more subjective to Sybil’s influence because when we came into the General Store, Kaneeka went to her room way too easily, and there’s a scene where we manage to get Kaneeka out of her room to come with us to the clinic, but Sybil stops us and insists Kaneeka isn’t well despite her momentary insistence to the contrary. And then...she just changes her mind and we have to go alone. And if you picked the Mystical trait, you specifically note that something is encroaching on your mind and trying to make you agree with Sybil that Kaneeka should rest.
And I haven’t even touched on the tea reading itself because something I find highly suspicious is the notion of the “cat” figure, the “hidden enemy.” There’s an option to pose the question that Sybil is the cat but it’s immediately shot down. You don’t even voice it. It just tells you “there’s no way Sybil is the cat. She’s helping you. Why would she warn you about the cat if she’s the cat. Pick someone else.” Also, the time I picked Tabitha as my suspect, Sybil was strangely insistent on encouraging that conjecture. It’s like she’s trying to subtly drive a wedge between us and Tabitha, which makes me concerned because Tabitha at least seems to value Sybil’s council and got some mysterious “tea” from her in episode 3 (which I think is either for the Scarlet’s mysterious prisoner or for us, and I’m fairly sure that it’s meant to subdue whoever drinks it somehow). Plus, I think it would be a classic fake out if Sybil is this hidden enemy because even without the tea forcing us to not suspect Sybil, it’s a lot like how in murder mystery shows, sometimes the one who reports the crime is the one who committed it in order to throw suspicion off them. Because why would they raise the alarm if they were the culprit?
And honestly, her tea reading itself is kind of sus too. If you have Mystical as a trait, you can ask to see the tea leaves yourself and...it’s just kind of a mess of leaf shreds. Sybil claims that tea reading is something that takes years to learn, but I’d think that with the Mystical trait, we’d be able to pick up something. But nothing flags and we hand it back. Plus, the reading doesn’t...tell us anything new aside from this “hidden enemy.” It’s supposedly just a mess of omens of ill fortune and doom. Which we already know from the Ditchlings. And it doesn’t point us to any useful direction. Other than the clinic and seeking out more of the carvings. She says it’s to arm yourself with knowledge (and honestly, I do find that to be a kernel of sound advice) but we don’t know much about the carvings aside from 1) only Scarlets feel the pull and see visions from them, usually of some dark secret truth, 2) people keep dying near or even on them, 3) a Witch told Charles Shaw Junior to seek them out for currently unknown reasons, only to get whammied by Eddie--who seemingly was in some kind of involuntary trance--as soon as he finds it, 4) we keep passing out and having seizures when we see them for the first time, and 5) something bad happens whenever we see them the first time (the mine collapsed, Charles Junior’s whole puppet show, Reese...). It feels like we’re being...primed for something. Prepared. And it feels like we’re being prepared as a sacrificial offering somehow to strengthen whatever curse/mystic whatever that has its hold on the town.
We get some backstory from Sybil about both herself and our mother, but Sybil was vague about herself. She only mentioned that her family has been in the Holler for as long--if not longer--than the Scarlets. So, maybe she’s a descendant of The Witch from Charlie’s haunting. The one that likely has “ulterior motives” according to the Mystic Trait. Sybil also seems quite insistent on downplaying the extent of her power and knowledge and denying being a witch when asked. All in all, Sybil seems very insistent on pushing the “innocent old lady” image. She also dropped some Scarlet lore too. Apparently our maternal grandmother died in childbirth due to being too young to be giving birth, let alone birthing twins. All the husbands after Edwardine’s time are still unknown, Sybil writing them off as flings or just not being terribly remarkable. I’ll talk more on my thoughts about this later.
In summary, Sybil is sus. I think she knows more than she’s letting on. She’s doing something to Kaneeka (Miles also looked pissed for some reason during the scene where Sybil stops us from taking Kaneeka with us to the clinic. Whether his rage is on Kaneeka’s behalf or directed at Kaneeka, I don’t know) and was almost certainly the one supplying Dr. Kelly with castor beans. There was something in that tea that we drank that makes us less suspicious of Sybil (maybe it’s part of the “preparation” I’m theorizing is going on. After all, we were given the same tea when we first arrived in Scarlet Hollow...). I think she’s trying to throw suspicion off of herself by warning us about the “hidden enemy” herself. Tabitha trusts her but tried to subtly drive us to suspect Tabitha of being an enemy.
Reese and Doctor Kelly
First of all, Dr. Kelly definitely likes kids better than...most people. If you don’t have the Keen Eye trait, Rosalina loses a leg and when we go to visit Oscar to check in and see if he’s seen Stella, Dr. Kelly is there giving Rosalina shots and checking up on her. During this, Dr. Kelly is downright kind and gentle until she notices us and she turns into the Ice Queen Doc that we saw last episode. Oscar told Dr. Kelly everything that happened the night before and she...seems to believe him, but if we try to warn her about the carving in the clinic and ask to see it, she gets defensive rather than dismissive.
Reese might be an Anti-Christ. I mean...the biggest reason I think that is that Dr. Kelly was having “romantic” sleep paralysis dreams for months and suddenly got pregnant despite not seeing anyone romantically. There’s also the fact that Reese has a downright supernatural healing factor, which is definitely how he’s survived consuming regular doses of one of the most deadly poisons on Earth (and also getting shot by Tabitha if you call her) and why he seems...strangely fixated and enthused by the idea of human suffering and cosmic horror. Like...those on their own are fine. I get it. It’s fascinating to explore in art and media, but...Reese seemed to be talking about people experiencing it in real life during the build up to his transformation. Idk. During that, it didn’t feel like he was talking about the horror movie that was on.
Reese has encountered Wayne before. He didn’t know his name, so he didn’t make the connection to Wayne as our stalker until we name him. Wayne knows that Reese is something other and dangerous, but didn’t know what until the fight broke out. I want to talk more about Wayne, but I’ll leave that for later. Also, Reese was absolutely convinced that Wayne hated him and meant to hurt him (I mean...I don’t think he was necessarily wrong in that tbh).
Dr. Kelly has been prepping for the eventuality that Reese will no longer listen to her and take his “medicine.” There’s an outcome where Reese gets locked away in Dr. Kelly’s safe room (which is the outcome I favored most since I don’t want to kill Reese but I also don’t want to let him kill Dr. Kelly). And the ricin was actually Dr. Kelly’s second option. She switched to it when she had to stop ordering official meds because what she was ordering was poisonous and people would get suspicious. Also, what she was giving Reese wasn’t working anymore anyway. His body adapted. So I think the poison was meant to keep Reese’s powers busy. If they’re focused on healing the damage the ricin does, then he won’t have enough to spare to Hulk out. And even the ricin seemed to be losing effect too because it only took a couple hours for Reese’s powers to rebound (he did carry us from the carving, up and down several flights of stairs despite being a walking skeleton, which is sus on its own but extra sus if you have the Powerful Build trait, which makes you even heavier. I think).
Reese can turn his paintings into minions. With the Mystical Trait, you’re able to sense in episode 3 that something dark lingers in those paintings in a much more literal sense and Reese talks about feelings building up within him that he releaves by putting them into the paintings. Guess it was a lot more literal than we thought.
Reese also got...strangely defensive of us when Wayne shows up. I haven’t done anything to support or oppose him yet, but I do find it a bit odd. I mean, he’d only met us for like an hour tops the day before. Maybe it was just because we were there and depending on how the medicine room goes (and what traits you picked), we alerted him to the Doc’s “true” intentions with him and his “medicine.” But he doesn’t seem to exhibit the same feelings towards his life-long friends. Not that they came up during the whole *gestures vaguely* but I’d think that if he was feeling so under threat that he’d mention, even off-handedly, staying with Kaneeka or Stella. I don’t quite know what to make of it yet, but it felt odd to me.
Dr. Kelly was also looking over death records of Scarlets in her office. We have the option to snoop at them (which I’ve always taken so far because I love me some lore) and we get some...interesting bits of info. That, I’ll talk more on later, but I find it interesting that she’s looking at those especially since in episode 3, Dr. Kelly mentioned that Scarlets seem to be...averse to hospital and doctor visits. I wonder what she was looking for in those.
The Carvings
There’s a chance of being able to examine the second carving (which I will be calling the Goat carving for simplicity’s sake) if Rosalina didn’t lose a leg and we placate Charlie’s spirit. If you have Book Smart, you notice that the carving’s style is Greeco-Roman, the weathering points to it being from a temple, and that the carving from the mine (which will henceforth be called the Chain carving) were made by the same artist and likely came from the same place.
They seem to lose their magnetism on us after we encounter them the first time.
The carvings also seem to be in sites of death. The Chain carving was in the depths of the condemned Shaw Mine where miner’s died due to rotted beams (and if you have the Mystic trait, you get extra scenes from these carvings. In the Chain carving, you see an argument between Charles Shaw Senior and Enoch Scarlet, where Charles Senior confronts Enoch about using subpar wood in the mines and Enoch writes him off. I don’t remember if you get an extra scene in the Goat carving, but the third one also gives us a vision of Enoch doing something dubious. So it seems that whatever’s going on in the Holler might have started with him). Charles Shaw Junior freaking died on one, murdered by a Scarlet. And the third one was in a “clean air” clinic that was turned into a proper doctor’s office after the mine collapse to treat the survivors. And I doubt all of them survived.
And the third one...I’m calling it the Chimera carving because there was...a lot going on visually in that one, we see an injured man in a hospital bed, presumably Theodore Scarlet, Enoch’s brother and our great uncle who supposedly died in the Shaw mine collapse. Enoch assures Theodore(?), who says the doctors told him he’ll never walk again, that he’s sorted this out by talking to The Witch. Theodore doesn’t seem to know who Enoch is talking about, responding with “A...witch?” rather than “The Witch” like Enoch. I’m guessing she’s the same Witch from Charles Junior’s memories, but Enoch claims that Theodore doesn’t have to worry about his legs or anything again and that he’ll be taking him home by the end of the week. If you have the Mystic trait, you get an extra scene of Enoch in the doctor’s office, telling the doctor that the man claiming to be Theodore isn’t his brother and insisting that he died in the mine collapse. I’m not sure who Enoch was lying to, but I think it was most likely that Enoch lied to the doctor and declared Theodore dead when he wasn’t and then hiding him in the estate. Though, I think it would have been just as likely that Enoch killed this guy.
The symbolism of the carvings to me points to the themes of cycles and sacrifice. The arms circled in chains, each swinging some kind of improvised chain flail(?). The goat’s head, surrounded by three wolves (and the fact that the Shaws had a lot of goat symbolism during Charlie’s haunting. Possibly pointing to how the Shaws were scapegoats for the Scarlets and potentially a sacrificial goat as well). The Chimera carving involves seven (mostly) alternating figures or humanoids and animals, all bound together by a long, tangled snake. The animals are a lion, a goat, a sheep, and possibly either a cow or a pig (I can’t tell). The humanoids all have something fantastical about them. One man has a crown and long ears (kind of gives me Midas vibes with his scepter and almost donkey-like ears), the man opposite to him has horns and similarly pointed ears, and the last figure is fairly ambiguous gender-wise and has no visible ears (they actually look fairly normal, but something about their appearance feels fae-like to me for some reason) but the snake’s head is hovering over their shoulder, its tongue flicking out. The goat and pig or cow remind me of a Roman suovetaurila, a very important type of sacrifice, usually made to Mars (one of their gods of war) to bless and purify land. There’s two types, but the biggest and most important involves a goat, which we’ve seen three times in the story so far, so I’m more keen on referencing that one (...though now that I think of it, “ram” also could mean a male sheep, which is more likely considering the word “suovetaurilia is literally the Latin words for pig, sheep, and bull smushed together). I don’t know, this one is less clear symbolically, but we might not have enough info yet.
Scarlet Lore
So, we get a fairly hefty amount of Scarlet lore this chapter. And Alexandra’s doll moves! Of course, if you picked Keen Eye, you pick up on a bloody, pussy residue that we’ve come to associate with Wayne, so someone’s been rooting through the closet in our absence. Creepy.
Tabitha brought a goat into the greenhouse for some reason. Again, I’m thinking for sacrificial purposes, but even with Talk with Animals, the goat (creatively named “Goat”) doesn’t know much either. So, a mystery for another day, I guess.
Our mother, Vivian apparently was terrified over being pregnant according to Sybil (who I am still sus of and will be taking everything see says with a Dead Sea’s worth of salt from now on). Understandable fear given that we were apparently conceived out of wedlock with a still unknown father and Vivian’s mother--our grandmother--died in childbirth. But I don’t know. There’s definitely more to this. Maybe Vivian knew that we’d be destined for something horrible and left the Holler with us to try and prevent it? Not enough info yet, but I’m definitely keeping that in the back of my mind. God. What if Vivian got pregnant the same way Dr. Kelly did? I mean, we have the option to have some legit magic powers (the Talk with Animals and Mystic traits), and since Edwardine, the paternal lineage of the Scarlets has been strangely obscured and surprisingly matriarchal. If I’m remembering right, every descendant of the Scarlets since Edwardine--Enoch’s daughter--has been female, which is an interesting coincidence that--for me, at least--would be quite innocent in any other setting. Fuck. What if this is a Hell Bride situation? Like, Enoch promised a female Scarlet to some otherworldly force through the Witch in exchange for bettering Theodore’s condition (if Enoch actually cared for his brother) or to ensure that the Scarlet family continues to hold power over the Holler and everyone in it (and maybe that’s why no one seems to be able to leave. At least...not for long anyway).
We have an opportunity during our journey into the clinic’s morgue to see Pearlanne herself and...uh...she’s definitely a dead body. Though, I don’t think she’s been embalmed. I’m not an expert in funerary practices and I know embalming isn’t everyone’s preference but it does seem to be the standard and I find it...odd that it doesn’t seem like her body’s been embalmed at all with her funeral in three days. I don’t know. I’m just highly suspicious of literally everything right now.
We get to see some death records and they have some interesting tidbits in them.
Enoch and Alexandra (Edwardine’s first daughter) both died on the exact same day. Well. Enoch died for sure. Due to a supposed “hiking accident” where he fell off a cliff. Alexandra, meanwhile, just straight up vanished and was declared dead by Edwardine. While I have no idea what could have been up with Alexandra disappearing, I definitely think Edwardine murdered Enoch as retribution for whatever mystic forces he tampered with that compelled her to murder Charlie. After all, Charlie did specifically mention that whatever was going on with those carvings, Enoch was responsible.
Edwardine’s child with Charlie was supposedly stillborn. A boy, named Andrew Charles (kind of sweet of Edwardine to give the boy his father’s name for a middle name). There was no doctor and it was a home birth, so we only have Edwardine’s word to go on. I definitely think there was more to this. What, I don’t know yet.
Theodore, our great uncle who died in the Shaw mine (supposedly), was declared dead by Enoch, his younger brother, who fully took over the mines after he died. Supposedly. Is it possible Enoch murdered his brother to take the mine and estate and town for himself? I wouldn’t rule it out yet, but Enoch is hella sus.
Edwardine had two brothers who died in Normandy during WWII, each within a day of each other. We kind of already knew that from episode 3, but the confirmation of death records is interesting.
Edwardine is probably the longest living Scarlet in...a long time, and possibly ever. She lived to be almost 90. Pearlanne was second longest-living and both seem to have passed from old people illnesses (sleep apnea and heart disease).
Edwardine raised Pearlanne and Vivian in place of her daughter, Mary-Belle (the woman who’s portrait hangs in our room. Actually, I think we’re in her room, so she has her missing, probably dead sister’s doll in her closet...). And according to Sybil, our mother was something of an emotional punching bag for the rest of the family.
As far as I remember right now, only Edwardine and Pearlanne lived past thirty.
Enoch made some kind of deal, either for his own benefit or for the sake of his brother. Don’t know which yet, if these are even the only two options. Enoch seems like a very two-faced, self-serving bastard to me so far, but we’ll see.
Wayne
Oh boy...if I didn’t think he was something supernatural before, I do now. Not even counting that Wayne knew Reese was something eldritch and other, he fought Reese and managed to repeatedly find his way into places taken over by entities trying to keep him out. Also, there’s something about his yellow pus-goo that harmed Reese on contact. I want to know so badly what Wayne is. My current tentative theory is that if Reese is something demonic, what if Wayne is something angelic? If Wayne’s the one that pulls everyone out of Charlie’s haunting, Sybil hints that us bending to Charlie’s demands would “go against everything he is.” A curious phrase, for sure. Sybil seems to be convinced that Wayne is harmless, though again, I’m suspicious of Sybil, but Wayne seems to be acting as like...a musty, spooky guardian angel. So far, he’s been nothing but helpful to us, if not blatantly protective.
We actually saw quite a bit of Wayne this episode. He followed us to the Church and I saw him lurking by the clinic as we approached it. To my knowledge, this is the first time we see Wayne watching us from afar since episode 2 if we stayed at the Estate following the events of episode 1.
Most importantly, if we don’t decide to pursue the romantic subplot with Stella, Wayne walks us back to the estate and we get the opportunity to ask him some questions. Naturally, he’s vague about a lot of things, but he’s following us specifically because “[we’re] special” and when we ask why he answers “you just are.” Annoying, but mildly informative in the sense that there is something inherent to us specifically that is unique, even amongst our kin, limited though they are. Wayne also says that we’re bonded to him in some way. He doesn’t elaborate, but he does imply that he will stand by us for...whatever’s coming.
This mysterious “bond” is a bit suspect to me and I’m curious about what that exactly means (personally, I hope it’s not romantic...).
He also encourages us to snoop around the estate when Tabitha is out and busy with the strike. He might want us to find something there. Perhaps the mysterious imprisoned entity? Perhaps something else.
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qqtxt · 1 year
Text
[🍬] knight in shining armor [🐰]
[!] this is for the 500 followers mini fics. click here to find out more! ✿ pairing: soobin x reader / college!au / non.idol!au / fluff / 575 words / the reader is assumed to be in a ‘gang’ and soobin’s a goody-two-shoes lmao i’m sorry / the reader and soobin have an established ‘cat-dog’ kind of friendship ✿ request: "i’m not afraid of you." + soobin  [main masterlist 🌸] / [event masterlist] / [tag: #qqtxt: 500]
note: requests are closed for this event. requests are no longer accepted for this!
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the situation was uncanny to say the least, and to put it into nicer terms, unexpected. you were leaving college campus on a good note; a little later than usual but good nonetheless. believe it or not, the extra classes you signed up for actually seemed to help your grades, so why not?
it was only up until you walked past the convenience store that you notice sounds from the alleyway. just walk away, just go home. no one’s going to–”ah!” it sounds like someone familiar, like someone you share a class with that you backtrack and... let’s just say, a good amount of fighting and egging to call the police later, you’re left in that same convenience store you walk past.
now huddled up in a corner with you tending to–”soobin, can you please just sit still?”
“but it hurts!” he huffs, “you try to sit still when you feel pain.”
“oh, i know and i have. in case you forgot, someone between the two of us had to throw some punches back in addition to me getting punched so now that i need you to sit still and not do anything, could you please just do that?” at the end of your rant, you look up to see soobin pouting a little and it makes you snap at him: “make another move and i’ll knock your teeth out, choi.” 
he squints his eyes at you, “i’m not afraid of you, you know?”
you scoff and resort to having a good grip on his shoulder to make him sit still as you lean over, “good to hear, considering i just saved your ass out there.”
soobin looks away with a sigh and closes his eyes when he feels your fingers gently massaging the ointment onto the bruise along his forearm. his lips press together to a thin line as he sucks it up. when you’re done, you don’t even say anything as you clean up the area and resort to opening his bag so you can give him the ointment and cream you’ve bought.
you’re moving so fast that soobin can barely keep up. he only processes you’re leaving once you’re out of the door and–”w-wait!”
you look over your shoulder to see soobin fumbling out of the convenient store. he swallows thickly and walks up to you, revealing a packet of some sort of health drink. you tilt your head at his offering but makes you hold onto it.
“t-thank you,” he starts softly, “i... appreciate what you did today.”
“six in the evening on mondays till wednesdays,” you start to untwist the cap of the drink he’s bought, “and eight at night for thursdays and fridays since i’ve got additional classes. i’ll be at the new wing.” you gesture the drink at him as a ‘cheers’ before you start to walk away.
he raises a brow, clearly confused.
it’s only when you’re a couple of steps away that you turn around to say: “that’s my time schedule and where i’ll wait for you to walk you home. see you tomorrow, six o’ clock evening, choi.”
soobin’s stumped, to say the least. confused, unsure of what to feel... but with the way you smile at him as you wave goodbye, drinking the drink that he bought you as a thank you, he tries not to smile as he begins walking back home. (he failed, he was a smiling, blushing mess the whole way through)
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mimi-ya · 2 years
Text
brewed ~ trafalgar d. law x reader
3,500 words | she/her reader
summary: you swear the regular at the coffee shop was going to overdose on caffeine one day
masterlist
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“Two hot mochas, an iced caramel latte, three scones and a Trafalgar.”
You pause, looking up from the cups you’re writing on, “A what?”
It had been several hectic weeks since starting at the small café in the middle of downtown. You were thankful to have the job, even if it came with some quirks.
There was Sanji who baked all the pastries in the back, and Luffy definitely who ate more than he served. Nami, who was always sweet talking her way into free drinks for her and her blue haired girlfriend. Zoro who always came in after his morning run, never for himself but to order a whipped cream pup cup for his dog, Chopper.
But a Trafalgar was a new one.
“Here a little early today, Shachi.” Sanji takes the cups from you hand, expertly beginning to brew the espresso and froth the milk.
The man dressed in scrubs smiles, “Captain had an emergency amputation, hasn’t even left the hospital.”
“Hope he can get some rest before his next shift.” Sanji places three of the beverages into a holder, before turning to you, “Watch (Y/N), this is an order you’ll want to know like the back of your hand.”
Sanji plucks the largest cup offered out of the stack, pumping in a generous amount of caramel, and then filling almost three quarters of it with pure espresso. Using a stirrer, he gives it a few quick twirls to melt the caramel before topping it off with milk that is steamed way beyond the regulated temperature.
“Raspberry scones okay today?” Sanji asks, covering the drink with a lid before passing over the holder.
“You know they’ll eat anything you make!” Shachi laughs, picking up the drinks and accepting the bag of pastries, “I’ll see you again soon!” He says, before leaving the store.
“That looked like the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen you make.”
“That was a Trafalgar.” Sanji wipes down the counter, “Usually gets two a day.”
“What!?” You nearly scream, “Whoever is drinking that is going to an early grave!”
Sanji shrugs, throwing a rag over his shoulder, “I wouldn’t worry too much, Trafalgar is one of the country’s leading surgeons. Works at the hospital down the street.” He nods out the door, “Runs his operating room like a tight ship.”
“He went to med school and still drinks that much caffeine?”
“Keeps me in business.” Sanji shrugs.
And Sanji wasn’t wrong. You end up making at least one of those disgusting drink every shift, offering it up to whatever scrubbed up nurse stops in.
.
You’re busy arranging the pastries to look more presentable after Luffy swiped a couple for his break when you hear the door chime open, “Be with you in a second!” You call, wiping of your hands before heading back to the register, “Hi there! What can I get for you?”
The man before you just stares with an unimpressed gaze, his eyes peeking out just from under the brim of his hat.
“Did you need a minute to look at the menu?” You offer when he doesn’t say anything.
“No.”
An awkward laugh escapes your lips, “Alright, well just let me know when you’re ready to order.”
“I want my usual.”
“Uhm, okay.” You tap the register screen to the drink menu, “And that is?”
“Why would I know?” He snaps.
You’ve dealt with a lot of shit people as a barista. Pretentious dicks who think they’re artisanal coffee experts but probably couldn’t tell the difference from coffee to the shit that comes out of their ass. Haughty parents that load their kids up on caffeine just to dump them on whatever poor nanny they’ve hired.
But this asshole? This asshole takes the cake. From his lack of greeting to the scowl that hasn’t left his face from the moment he walked in.
“Don’t you fucking drink it?” You shoot back, enjoying the way his eyes widen in surprise. Probably the first time someone’s ever had the courage to lay back into him, “Or has your sour personality dried up all your taste buds that you don’t know what you’re putting in that shit mouth of yours?”
“Tch.” He quickly turns on his heel, almost colliding with the person coming through the door.
“Heya Traffy!” Luffy smiles, trying to loop an arm around the man. But he just shoves Luffy out of the way and storm out of the shop.
Luffy looks over at you with a pout on his face, “What’s his deal?”
You sniff, crossing your arms, “Hell if I know, and I hope I never have to find out.”
“Shi shi shi!” Luffy hops the counter, clearly forgetting the six times Sanji has told him to stop, “That’s funny (Y/N), but Traffy will probably be back tomorrow.”
“And why’s that?” You ask, honestly not that interested as you start to wipe down the counter.
“To get his special drink! I don’t think any other coffee shop will make it for him.”
Your hand stops mid wipe, a feeling of dread forming in your stomach, “Wait.” You turn around, “That wasn’t Trafalgar, was it?”
Luffy swallows a mouthful of muffin (when the hell did he swipe that?) “Sure it was! That’s what I said, Traffy!”
Well shit. You’re totally getting fired now.
.
But then a week passes, and nothing happens. A scathing review was never left on the internet. Sanji hasn’t mentioned losing his best customer. And you still have your job.
You almost think you’re in the clear until one slower afternoon the door jingles open in single of a customer. But your bright smile drops the moment you see who it is.
Trafalgar is standing with his hands dug into the pockets of his white medical coat.
The professional thing to do would be to get started on his drink now that you know it, maybe even offering an apology for your actions last time.
But instead, you say, “What can I get for you?” Expecting a repeat of last time, but then he pulls out a crumpled piece of paper.
Clearing his throat, he reads off, “A triple espresso caramel latte with extra caramel, extra espresso and as hot as you can get it.”
You have to hold back a laugh because you’ve never heard someone order their drink like they were reading out of a dictionary. But he must pick up on it because his cheeks go a little pink and his hand fists the paper, “Well?” He snaps.
“Alright, alright.” You raise your hand in apology, grabbing a cup from the stack to get started.
You can feel his eyes on you while you’re working, but each time you look over his quickly glance away.
“One Trafalgar, extra hot.” You say, placing the drink on the counter.
He almost freezes reaching for the drink, eyes narrowing as he looks at you, “So you did know.”
“Not at first.” You shrug, “Luffy filled me in after you threw a fit and stormed out.”
He has the decency to look a little ashamed, “I, uh, I apologize for that. I usually don’t have to say my order.”
“I can tell.” You tease, nodding to his hand still holding the scribbled, “You get someone to write that down for you?”
Trafalgar’s face sours and this time you do let out a loud laugh, enjoying his embarrassment.
“Well next time just say you want a Trafalgar and I’m sure I can figure it out.”
“It’s Law.”
“Huh?”
He shifts on his feet, “My name, it’s Law.”
“Oh.” You blink, “I’m (Y/N).”
“I know.” And his eyes fall to your nametag when your brows furrow in confusion.
“Oh! Right!” You wave your hand, “Well, I’ll be seeing you around Law!”
You swear it looks like he wants to say something, but instead shoves a couple notes into the tip jar and is out the door.
.
Law becomes a regular fixture in your schedule. Picking up the drinks for his team more often, popping up during the slow times, sometimes even finishing his drink before he leaves.
He’s a little odd, really awkward, but pretty cute. Especially when he came in one day when he must have gotten off shift. Instead of his scrubs and coat he’s downed in a tight black shirt, piercings lining his ears and what feels like miles of inked skin on display.
And you’re just thankful he didn’t say anything when you stuttered over your words that afternoon.
“(Y/N)-ya.”
“Law.” You greet, a smile on your face as he steps through the door, “Coming or going from the hospital?” Even though it’s ten in the morning you can never be too sure with his schedule.
“Coming.” He grunts, “A twelve hour shift.”
You tut, pouring out the espresso of his drink, “Well I’ll be sure to make this one extra special for you.”
“Don’t think that’ll be a problem if you’re making it.”
Your head shoots up at his compliment but then you laugh, “I’m sure you say that to anyone who isn’t Luffy.” Capping the lid, you push the drink towards, “Honestly I don’t know why Sanji keeps him around.”
“Thanks.” Law mutters, which you find a little strange, because he always takes the bait to rib Luffy whenever he can.
“Well, enjoy the coffee!”
Law picks up his drink, almost turning around to leave before he thinks better of it, “Would you like coffee?”
“Huh?”
“Coffee?” He repeats himself, “Would you like some?”
A confused look fills your face, “I mean, if I wanted some, I could just make one.”
And then strangely Law’s face falls, “Right.” He mutters, this time actually exiting out the door.
Weird.
“Vivi.” A voice pipes up from the bar seating, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a worse display of flirting in this entire coffee shop.”
“I think you’re right Nami.” Vivi nods, “And we watch Zoro and Sanji fall all over themselves almost every morning.”
“What the hell are you two talking about?”
“Oh my god.” Nami cries, grabbing the girl beside her, “She doesn’t even know! Vivi, she doesn’t even know!”
“I know.” Vivi rubs at Nami’s shoulder.
You roll your eyes. Nami was always dramatic, it was usually about the cost of her lattes, but this isn’t anything new, “Tell me what I don’t know.”
“He was asking you out!” Nami shouts, “And you just let a rich doctor slip right through your fingers!”
“What?”
Vivi nods sympathetically, “I think he was.”
“What, no. He- I think I would know. He wasn’t- it’s not like that! I mean-”
“I think she’s in denial.” Vivi whispers.
“You two don’t know what you’re talking about!” You shout back, slapping a rag onto the counter before storming into the back.
Nami and Vivi had no clue what they were talking.
Law didn’t like you. You don’t think Law liked anybody. You just made him coffee.
So what if he hung around while he drank it. And it didn’t mean anything when Luffy said he’s only ever seen Law smile around you. And Sanji had to be mixing up the numbers when he said Law’s purchases increased during your working hours.
Besides! It’s not like you would even care if he did.
It’s not like you watch the door waiting for him to show up every day. Or like you spend a little extra care on his drink. Or daydream about what his tattooed fingers can do. You definitely don’t think about that.
And you’re going to prove it.
But you can’t.
Because Law doesn’t come back.
Not the next day, or the day after, or the following week. It’s almost been a month and you haven’t seen him. Instead, it’s back to Shachi picking up the drinks, and at least you know he’s alive because who else would drink his nasty concoction.
You don’t even have his number so it’s not like you can text him. You suppose you could leave a message on one of his cups, part of you would rather spit in it, but you’re standing your ground. You didn’t do anything wrong! So why should you be the one to reach out?
But with each passing day you realize maybe you’re just destined to make his coffee for the rest of his life.
That is until someone slips face first and spills their scalding hot tea all over their arm.
“Oh my god!” You gasp, quickly flying around from the bar to help the man, “Are you alright?” You offer your hand.
And as you’re trying to help him to his feet, he stumbles on the now wet floor, toppling back over and painfully knocking his head on the edge of a table.
“Sir!” You fret, trying to help him up, “Don’t move, you might be concussed!”
You quickly duck into the back, grabbing an ice pack. You’re glad to see the man hasn’t moved, just pressing a hand to where you’re sure a nasty bump is probably forming.
“Here.” You offer, “Are you okay? Is there someone I can call for you?”
He surprises you by all but shoving his phone into your hands, “Will you call my son?”
“Uh, oh okay.” You respond, a little frazzled to see the phone is already dialing.
“Hello?” The voice answers, clearly irritated.
“Uhm, hi, hello!”
“Who is this?” The man sounds confused but just as equally annoyed.
You glance back at the man who’s watching you intently, “I’m calling for your father. He uhm, he slipped and hit his head. I think he might need someone to help him home. We’re at the All Blue café in downtown.”
You’re met with silence, and you briefly wonder if the man heard you.
“Are you able to-”
But you’re cut off with a growl, “I’m on my way.” And then he hangs up.
“Oh.” You pull the phone away, offering it back to the man, “I think he’s on his way. Is there something I can get for you, uhh, sir?”
“It’s Cora.” The man gives you a blinding smile, motioning to the chair, “Would you mind waiting with me until he comes?”
.
Law was not having a good day. Scratch that. He wasn’t having a good month.
He could chock it up to whatever lies he told himself, but it all started with you.
Law thought the two of you were on the same page, had even been reassured by Sanji and Luffy. Not that he really took the latter’s opinion to heart. So when you turned him down, it stung.
It stung like hell.
Law had decided he would just never see you again and that would be that. Shachi went back to picking up the coffee and Law worked on erasing you from his mind.
Easier said than done. Everyone had noticed the change in his behavior. Even Cora pestering him with questions about you, and why hadn’t he heard any new stories lately.
It’s not like he talked about you that much.
But he realized what an idiot he’s been this whole time when he finally heard your voice again after nearly a month. The swooping in his stomach and the stuttering in his chest. But what he wasn’t expecting was it to be from Cora’s phone.
And that’s when he knew Cora was up to something.
Luckily, he was almost done with his shift. Something he’s sure Cora was aware of, Law thinks bitterly.
And if he thought just hearing your voice was rough, he was sorely underprepared for seeing you again.
There you were. Sitting across from his father in the little coffee shop as the setting sun shined in. Laughing at who knows what with a giant smile on your face. It strikes Law just how much he missed that sound.
“Law! You’re here!”
Shit. Law curses to himself, having been too distracted by your beauty he was out in the open for Cora to spot.
Law pointedly doesn’t look at you, doesn’t want to see what ever emotions are crossing your face.
“What happened?” Law says through clenched teeth, noting how Cora looks fine.
“Oh, you know.” Cora waves, “Just clumsy me.” And then a smirk pulls at his lips as he looks back towards you, “But the lovely (Y/N) was able to help me. Do you two know each other?”
If Cora was any more obvious, he’d be wearing a flashing sign.
With clenched hands, Law’s eyes slide over to meet yours and he feels like even more of a mess this close to you. But then he feels like the rug is ripped out from under you when he sees the scowl on your face.
“Hello Trafalgar.”
“(Y/N).” Law grunts, hating that you’ve reverted back to his surname.
“You do know each other!” Cora exclaims, “Well you two catch up, I need to run to the restroom quickly.”
Immediately your concerned hands reach out, “Are you sure you’re okay? You might-”
“Don’t worry about me!” Cora waves, “I’ll just be a moment.”
And then it’s just the two of you.
Law shifts from one foot to the other, pointedly looking anywhere but you.
“Good to see your caffeine habits don’t run in the family.”
Law’s eyes dart to you, because are you really trying to make small talk right now?
“Although he did want his tea as hot as your usual, which I probably wouldn’t have done if I knew he was going to spill it all over himself.” Your twinkling laugh grates on his nerves in the best and worst way possible.
But Law just scoffs, looking back towards the restrooms. What the hell is taking him so long?
“Alright asshole.” You push yourself up from you seat, “I don’t what the hell I did to be getting the silent treatment, but I can take a hint.” You brush past Law, but not without a hard shove from your shoulder.
Law reels back, more so in surprise than anything else, “The fuck are you talking about?”
“Me?” You whirl around, hands on your hips, “You’re the one that up and disappeared for a month and when I finally see you again you can’t say more than two fucking words!”
“Well you made it pretty clear you wanted nothing to do with me when you blew me off.” Law snarls.
“Blew you off?” You nearly scream, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean!”
“Oh I don’t know (Y/N)-ya.” Law rolls his eyes with sarcasm dripping from his voice, “When I asked if you wanted to get coffee and you turned me down!”
“You asked me to get coffee?” All the fight leaves your body for a moment before it kicks back in thinking about his stupidity, “How the hell was I supposed to know you meant together?!”
Law immediately colors with embarrassment and indignation, “What else was it supposed to mean!”
“Well gee.” You drawl, “Maybe that you wanted coffee from this fucking coffee shop?”
Law quickly turns his head, looking at the wall. Well, when you put it like that.
A quiet but exasperated laugh escape you, “I thought I did something to make you mad.”
“No.” Law quickly interjects, looking back at you, “I was trying to respect your answer.” He definitely doesn’t mention that it also twisted his heart to even think about you after that. Couldn’t imagine what it would be like to see your face every time he wanted coffee.
“How about you ask again?” You ask with a teasing smile.
Law’s eyes widen, “Do you want to get coffee, with me?”
“No.”
Law opens his mouth, a rude remark on the tip of his tongue until you press a finger to his lips.
“But.” The grin widens on your face, “I would love to get dinner with you.”
“Now?” Law asks hopefully.
With a surprised laugh at his forwardness you nod, “I was off the clock an hour ago anyway.” And then you glance over your shoulder, “But shouldn’t we wait for your dad?”
Law scoffs, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him, “I’m sure he’s already snuck out the back.”
BONUS
Zoro steels his nerves, even gives Chopper a pat on the head for good luck while pointedly ignoring the witch and her girlfriend starring at him from across the shop.
“Marimo.” Sanji greets, “Just the usual?”
“Do you want to get coffee with me?” Zoro rushes out in one go. If it worked for the doctor, it’s gotta work for him.
“You don’t like coffee.”
“But you do, right?” Zoro adds, doesn’t the shit cook own this place?
Sanji’s face screws up in annoyance, mumbling to himself as he writes something on the small cup of whip cream for Chopper before shoving it into Zoro’s hands.
“Yes, I like coffee you idiot. But I’m not going to go on a coffee date with you.” He sneers before pointing at the cup, “Don’t lose that.” And then he spins on his heel and retreats to the back.
Zoro’s a little confused but then he looks down to see a phone number scrawled onto the cup. A smile breaks out onto his face, well that is until a voice pipes in,
“Vivi? Why is everyone in this coffee shop romantically inept?”
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