#top tv repair
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Why Your TV Has Sound But No Picture
Will your TV only play audio and not video? Is the screen on your television black? Use these fixes to resume streaming. Or call a TV servicing expert for more.
Your TV is no longer a TV; it is instead a sound system. The visual component of television has been gone. However, there is no visual information available. It's dark. Your television isn't for listening, is it? Fear not, and implement the fixes listed below.
Incorrect Settings
You may customise a wide range of settings on your TV. Some of these will have an impact on your TV's connections and influence if you will see anything. Starting with the almost insultingly apparent checks never hurts, so let's proceed.
Gentle Reset
The simplest place to begin.
● For 60 seconds, unplug your TV. Don't simply switch it off.
● After unplugging it, press and hold the power button for 30 seconds.
● On those 60 seconds, count slowly or use a watch.
● Reconnect the cable to your TV and look for a picture. If it functions, you're done.
● Move on to the following step if not.
● Brightness Verify your device's brightness setting. A setting may occasionally become bugged.
Check the Inputs and Cables for HDMI
When there are issues with the HDMI Inputs, the visual signal may be interrupted but the audio will continue to work. The input sockets and the cables are the two primary points of failure.
First, disconnect and re-plug each HDMI wire from the TV and from the other connected device at both ends. Do this for each connected device to your TV.
Replace the cable from a specific source with a known-good cable. See if that is any assistance. Each source you have should be treated in turn. If this exchange resolves the issue, purchase and install a new cable.
Check the location of the source's plug-in on the TV and the source's settings. It is quite improbable that there is a mismatch between input and setting because you are currently receiving sound. In that case, move on to the next item.
It is advisable to use approved cables because non-certified HDMI cables might occasionally result in issues in this way.
Software Problems
Your TV can operate erratically if the software update feature is not enabled. A manual update is an additional action you can take to rule out a potential cause. You are not the one who can fix all you want, either. It is a good option to search for a nearby TV repair specialist.
Use a hard wired source or a flash drive inserted into a TV's USB port instead of WiFi-based updates due to their sporadic unreliability.
Factory Reset
The final step is a factory reset if the upgrade had no impact or wouldn't operate. Make a note of the numerous configurations you have changed before doing this because the reset will remove all of them.
If this fixes the no picture issue, your TV will have all factory default settings, therefore it will take some work to return to the previous configuration. Follow the reset instructions that come with your TV to complete it.
Hardware Problems
After checking the connections, connected devices, and software settings, let's examine the TV's functionality.
Check Cables
Sometimes the issue can be resolved by just detaching and rejoining each cable, even before you test the individual boards. The ribbon wires that connect the Main Board to a small board known as the T-Con board are crucial in this step.
● Make sure the TV is unplugged first.
● One by one, unplug and replug each cable.
● Before reinstalling the ribbon cables, you might even wish to use a pencil eraser to clean the contacts.
Be gentle and take your time. The majority of the wires will fit nicely in just one location, but it doesn't hurt to make a tiny mark next to each one as you finish the disconnect-reconnect process.
Plug the TV back in after you've finished this to check whether an image has appeared. If so, move on to the next step; otherwise, stop.
Defective LCD panel
Your LCD panel could have failed, especially if the test for bad back lights produced an empty screen. Single horizontal or vertical lines in the image on the screen are a typical indicator of panel breakdown. Another indication of panel breakdown is distorted pictures that only appear in one location on the screen.
Physical abuse is a major factor in many panel failures. Furthermore, the panels' design, which includes chips embedded in flexible plastic or affixed to glass, leaves them susceptible to irreparable failures in the peripheral devices.
If a panel is damaged, the cost and labour of repair suffer since replacing the panel is a labour-intensive and expensive process. If replacing the panel isn't feasible financially, you can attempt selling the TV's other internal parts.
Last but not least, take precautions while doing the task. Save your time and money by looking for Television repair near me.
#TV repair#Television repair near me.#TV servicing#best tv repair near me#tv repair near me#top tv repair#tv repair services
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Yay time to play Slime Rancher
PS4: you moved me to the floor level of the cabinet recently
Me:....yeah?
PS4: then you're not playing this today ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ *screams in fan*
Me:.....
Game: look at this cool line going up the screen!....your controller doesn't work either 😄
Me:............
PS4: Clean. Me.
Me: uuggghhhhh
#time to spend more money 🙃#i don't trust myself to take it apart and used canned air#the place i go to for repairs will probably do it for pretty cheap#i have no idea where I'm gonna put this poor thing#our new tv is bigger it can't live on top of the cabinet
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Your Best TV Repair Service Provider in Noida
When your TV needs expert attention, Ows Repair is your trusted partner for top-notch TV repair services in Noida. With skilled technicians, transparent pricing, and a commitment to quality, we're here to ensure your television gets the care it deserves.
#TV repair services Noida#Best TV repair in Noida#Noida TV repair experts#Top television repair service#Noida TV technician#Affordable TV repair Noida#TV Repair In Noida
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Cold
Bucky x reader
Summary: Bucky helps you warm up.
Words: 1,935
Warnings: fluff, smut
The last few days, it was constantly raining. Of course, the heaters in Avengers Tower had to break down, and now it felt like the inside was colder than the outside. Cuddled up in your soft blanket on the couch, you were watching TV, not really paying attention to it. You still felt cold even after pulling on multiple layers of clothing.
Bucky walked into the room with a steaming mug in his hand. He wasn't affected by the cold at all. Lucky him.
"Hey doll, I made you tea. Figured you could use something hot." He smiled, giving you the mug, and pecked your forehead.
You took the mug from him and wrapped your fingers around it, bringing it closer to you, taking a small sip, enjoying how the warmth spread through your cold bones. A soft sigh escaped your lips from the delightful feeling.
“Thanks, Buck.” You said, smiling.
“Still cold?” He asked as he sat down beside you, putting his hand around your shoulders.
“I’m freezing. Tony said it will take at least a few more hours to repair the heaters.” You said while sipping tea. “Until then, I have to try not to freeze to death.”
“I think I can help you with that.’’ He said, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Oh really?” You placed the mug on the coffee table in front of you and climbed into his lap, draping the blanket around his shoulders, so you both would be covered with it. “How?” You asked innocently as if you already didn't know.
“I can think of few ways.’’ He moved his hands to your hips, pulling you closer, meeting you for a kiss. You tangled your fingers through his long locks, tugging them when he deepened the kiss, earning a low groan from him. He moved lover, kissing your jaw and settling in the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking the exposed skin, while his hands roamed all over your body, making you a panting mess in his lap.
“You are wearing too many clothes, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured against your skin.
“Then do something about it.” You challenged.
He chuckled and found the hem of your hoodie, pulling it off over your head, letting the blanket fall on the couch, leaving you in another sweater.
“Hmm, still too many clothes.” He said, pulling the jumper off.
He looked at you in disbelief after discovering that under the sweater was another - long-sleeved shirt. “How many layers are you wearing?”
“I said I was cold.” You shrugged.
“I should've shown up earlier.” He shook his head before returning to kissing your lips, while his hands slowly worked on your shirt, unbuttoning it. When that was finally done, he pushed the shirt down your shoulders.
“Fuck.” You cursed, breaking the kiss.
“What's wrong?”
“My hand stuck in the stupid sleeve.” You said, struggling to get rid of the annoying shirt. The scene of how you frustrated wiggled in Bucky’s lap made him laugh. When you finally got your hand out of the damn sleeve, you slid your cold hands under his shirt, his muscles tensing under your cold touch.
“Oh my god, Y/n, your hands are so cold.”
“Wait till you see how cold my feet are.”
“How can you live like this?”
“That’s why I have you to keep me warm.”
“Damn right, doll.” He pulled you back into the kiss. His hands found a way under your top, grazing over your back, raising goosebumps on the skin where his metal hand touched it. You didn’t care about cold anymore. You trailed your hands over his chest, resting them on his broad shoulders. Your lips moved down his jaw and neck. He tilted his head for better access, a low moan escaping his lips when you rocked your hips.
“Hey! No, no just…no, stop this.” Sam spoke loudly at first, but at last, words sounded like a disappointed parent.
You both turned your heads towards Sam, who appeared out of nowhere.
“Come on guys, this is a common room, no one wants to see…this..” He gestured dramatically with his hands at both of you.
You shrugged your shoulders, and looked at Bucky with an expression - ‘he’s not wrong’.
Bucky moved his hands under your tights, standing up, lifting you with him, like you were feather-light. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.
“Shut up, pigeon,” Bucky said with a smile, passing Sam on the way to his room.
“Fuck you, Bucket.” Sam retorted back.
“That’s the plan.” You called back before disappearing into the hallway.
"It's like living with horny teenagers," Sam uttered loudly. “Why am I even living here?’’
You both laughed at how easy it was to annoy Sam. After getting into the room, Bucky closed the door behind him with his foot and lowered you onto the bed, settling between your legs.
“Now, where were we?’’ He asked with a mischievous smile, his eyes dark with lust.
“I think somewhere here.’’ You grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulling him down in a passionate kiss. Your hands found the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. It landed somewhere in the room.
His lips moved to your neck, nibbling and sucking while his hands roamed over your body, pulling off your top that joined his shirt somewhere on the floor. Quickly, getting rid of your bra, he sent it flying over his shoulder.
Bucky sat up on his knees. “I think you won't be needing these tonight.” He hooked his fingers behind the waistband of your pants, pulling them off along with your panties, tossing them to the side.
He took your ankle, lifting it, kissing his way up to your inner thigh tortuously slow, ignoring the one place you needed him most. Kissing up to your belly and between the valley of your breasts, he reached your lips, kissing them and biting your bottom lip.
“Hi there.” He smiled. His lips were pink and plump from all the kissing.
“Bucky..” His name, like a moan, escaped your lips. “I need you.”
“I'm right here.” He kissed down your jaw to your neck sucking and nibbling, soothing the place with afterward. His hands roamed all over your body, caressing your breasts. His metal hand created a cold contrast compared to his flesh hand, making your head spin. He took one nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the stiff peak, he let it go with a loud pop, before doing the same to the other.
Arching your back, needing more, you tangled your fingers in his hair, harshly tugging and bringing him closer. He growled in pleasure, his teeth scraping against your flushed skin.
You could feel his hard length against your tight. You rocked your hips upwards, sliding your hands down along his back, pushing down his sweatpants, and cupping his ass.
“Impatient are we?” He smirked, glancing up at you.
“Bucky, just fuck me already.” You wined, needing to feel him. Those were the words that completely broke him.
You could swear his eyes turned, even more, darker than before, almost swallowing his blue irises. Filled with lust and desire. He instantly got rid of his pants and crashed his lips harshly with yours in a needy, hungry kiss. He lined himself up against your entrance, slowly pushing in. Your mouth fell open, feeling him, letting out a strangled moan. That he quickly silenced with a kiss. Greedily swallowing every little moan from you he could get.
You wrapped your legs around him, rocking your hips, signaling for him to move. To do something. He started moving, pulling almost out, and slamming back in. Your breath hitched in your throat, nails digging into his shoulder blades, leaving half-moon marks on his skin.
He built up a steady pace, his body flush against yours. “Y/n…” He loudly growled, burying his face in the juncture of your neck, when he felt your walls clenching around him.
“Bucky. Ohh…god…don't stop.” Your moans filled the room, and you felt the familiar pleasure building deep inside of you.
He lifted his head, catching your lips in a heated kiss, it's all tongue and teeth. Dragging your nails down his back, you left long, red trails on his skin, making him growl at the feeling.
His hand slipped underneath your thigh, lifting it higher up so he would have better access, slamming deeper and rougher into you, reaching that spot he knew made you see stars.
“Come for me.” He growled as his fingers pressed harder into your skin.
Your eyes fell shut, reaching your release. Bucky's movements became sloppy as he reached his release moments later, your name falling from his lips, like praise. Your legs fell from his hips to the mattress like jelly. His head fell in the crook of your neck, trying to catch his breath while holding himself up so he wouldn't squish you with his body.
Both laid like that for some time, coming down from your highs, sweaty bodies pressed together. His heavy breath tickles your neck.
Bucky lifted his head, brushing his lips against yours. “I love you so much, baby.” He whispered.
“I love you too, Buck.” You mused, brushing your fingers through his long, dark hair.
He smiled, giving you one last kiss and slowly pulled out. You whimpered at the sensitiveness. He settled in bed next to you, cradling you against his chest and holding you tightly. Your head resting on his shoulder. The warmth from his body provided cozy comfort.
“So, did I help you get warmer?” He asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, you did.” You chuckled, tracing invisible shapes on his chest.
“But I have a feeling we'll have to do this again soon.” You pulled the blanket higher up, covering your bodies.
“Or maybe,” He smiled, rolling on top of you. “We could do it again right now, so you wouldn't have time to get cold.” He chuckled, kissing your shoulder, making you giggle.
---
“Morning, sleepyheads. Ready for a run?’’ Steve asked after he and Sam barged into Bucky's room.
Bucky groaned, rubbing his eyes trying to understand what was going on. He looked down at you, cuddled by his side, head resting on his chest and hand across his waist. A smile spread across his face as the memories from the previous night floated up in his mind. He pulled up the blanket covering your body. Tony must have repaired the heat, it felt much warmer than yesterday.
“No, not today.’’ He whispered, not wanting to wake you up.
“Long night?’’ Sam asked, smirking.
“Get lost. Both of you.’’ He growled when he felt you stirring.
Steve laughed and pulled Sam to the door when he started making kissy faces. Bucky grabbed a pillow and threw it at Sam. He barely dodged it and winked before disappearing from the room.
“What did they want?” You asked quietly with half-closed eyes, resting your chin on his chest.
“Morning run. Go back to sleep.’’ He kissed your hair, rubbing your back.
“What time is it?’’ You asked, glancing at the window it was barely light outside, the morning sun had not quite risen yet.
“It’s almost six.’’ He said after looking at the clock on the nightstand.
“They're crazy. Why didn't you go?” You asked, squinting at the light, trying to open your eyes fully.
“I'd much rather stay here with you.” He smiled. “In case you need my help getting warm again.”
#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky x you#bucky fluff#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes#bucky smut
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Miguel O’Hara x reader - Sew cute
Warnings/tags: Miguel getting lowkey horny over his girlfriend knowing how to sew. Also, mentions of marriage.
Part two
I have this head cannon of rich bf Miguel finding his girlfriend’s hobbies adorable and taking every possible opportunity to fule her passion- I might make this a loosely related series, where it’d be the same concept but different hobbies.
I’m so sorry for the pun as the title.
It all started when a line of stitching on your pants began to loosen. The top stitching under the fly, specifically.
You complained offhandedly about it to Miguel, leaning against his side and pouting slightly as you whined about your favorite pair of pants starting to give out. Miguel chuckled softly at your dramatics, scrolling through his phone with one hand and rubbing your shoulder sympathetically with his other, eventually pressing a kiss to your forehead and promising to buy you a new pair next time you two went shopping.
Except, he never gets a chance. Because the next night, he comes home to the sight of you hunched over on the couch, your tongue bitten in concentration as a movie you’re not paying attention too plays on the TV, your head turned to something in your lap instead.
Miguel can’t help his curiosity- coming up behind you and peaking over your shoulder.
Looking down, he sees what you’re focused so intensely on, and it catches him off guard.
You held a thread and needle in one hand and what he assumed to be your pants in the other, carefully sewing a line of stitching into the fabric. Except, you weren’t working on your pants- your pants were sitting to the side of you- the stitching already repaired. Now, you had one of Miguel’s shirts- one he recognized as one he had planned on getting rid of because of a seam coming undone.
“¿Qué haces?” Miguel asks, placing his hands on your shoulders and rubbing loving circles into the tense muscles as watched you work.
You can’t help but shudder as Miguel’s fingers dig into your back, easing the pain from sitting hunched over for so long. You try to keep the shakiness out of your voice as you look up at him to answer his question.
“I’m fixing my pants. The ones that were coming apart- I told you about that yesterday, remember?”
“Love, that’s my shirt. Not your pants.”
“O-oh yeah.” You felt yourself flush in embarrassment, looking back down at the shirt you had stolen from Miguel. “Well- yeah- I finished the pants earlier. Then I found this shirt in with the rest of the clothes while I was putting away laundry. I-I hope you don’t mind that I’m fixing it-”
Miguel smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of your head as he continued rubbing your shoulders. “Of course I don’t mind. But, I’m more than happy to buy us both new clothes. You don’t need to worry about pinching pennies.”
You turn to him, a grin spread across your still warm cheeks as you respond. “Miguel, there’s no reason to replace something so easy to repair! Plus, I’m enjoying myself!”
Miguel nodded, looking down to admire the stitching you had done on the shirt so far. “Hm… I didn’t know you could sew, mi amor.”
“It’s not exactly hard, just moving the needle through the fabric, you know? I haven’t done it in a good while, I forgot how much I liked doing this kinda stuff.”
Miguel was enamored by this new revelation. Before this, he had always seen sewing as more of an old person thing, but he couldn’t deny the warm, fuzzy feeling of domesticity he got from watching you lay in his lap as you delicately maneuvered the needle and thread through the torn fabric of his shirt. He couldn’t help but feel a hint of pride at the sight, it was like you were his little house wife.
Or…house girlfriend? Because he hasn’t married you yet…. But that’s really just a technicality. You’re his house wife, Miguel has decided it.
The next morning, when you handed him the repaired shirt with a proud grin, Miguel couldn’t help but feel treasured and loved from the simple gesture. Before this, Miguel would never have considered wearing something that had ripped them been repaired. He had the money to replace things, so why wouldn’t he? But from that day on, that shirt became his favorite, and he wore it every chance he had.
After that, Miguel started coming home with little handicraft and embroidery kits for you. Whenever he’d get see a kit he knew you’d like- maybe it had your favorite animal or something- he’d toss it in the cart and save it for a rainy day, whether that be a metaphorical or literal one.
And it all stayed like that for a while: Miguel bringing you small hand sewing and embroidery kits, you lighting up and getting started on them right away- usually spending the rest of the night on the couch next to Miguel with a movie or show on in the background.
Until one of your friends asked that you sign up for a sewing workshop with them. It was a relatively basic class, held at one of the local chain fabric/craft stores, but you had agreed to go, mostly for your friends sake.
The workshop was fun. You learned a bit about sewing machine tension and using patterns, and the sewing project given was simple and doable within the time period.
You didn’t realize that Miguel had come early, or that he was standing in the doorway of the classroom, watching you sew with a smile. He would deny it if you asked him, but he had arrived early on purpose to watch the last few minutes of the class. He had assumed the class was hand sewing, like everything else he had seen you do up till that point, and he was surprised to see you hunched over a sewing machine instead of your usual needle and thread.
It was like the first time he saw you sewing all over again: he was fucking smitten, and was going to make you his wife. That was all he could think about, because god help him, you already looked and acted the part.
Miguel was mesmerized by how focused you were as you moved the fabric through the machine. The way you bit your lip and furrowed your brow in concentration- it was precious, and Miguel wanted nothing more than to melt at how domestic you seemed while doing it.
And when you finished and came up to him? With a wide grin as you proudly presented the stuffed animal you had made during the workshop, insisting that you made it for him? His heart melted, right then and there. He squeezed that stuffed animal so tight and looked down at you with so much love, you were half worried he’d either pounce on you or make the poor stuffed animal’s head pop off (which Miguel might have cried about, at this point).
After the workshop, Miguel didn’t take you home. You and him stayed at the fabric store, him loading your arms up with fabric, patterns, and whatever else he decided you needed. “You like this one? No? You don’t? Well I think it’s just a good basic- like a black shirt, so we should just get it anyways.”
Oh god. And then he found the baby clothes patterns. You could’ve sworn you spent hours at that craft store.
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o’hara fluff#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara fic#miguel o’hara fanfiction#miguel ohara#miguel x reader#miguel x you#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman#miguel x y/n#atsv miguel#fluff#atsv#rich!Miguel O’Hara#fem reader#fem!reader
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vox more than anything fic ending with fluffy makeup sex is all i need :,))) LET ME HOLD THAT TV MAN!!!
I didn't end up adding the spice because it didn't flow naturally with how this came out. I do headcanon that Vox would 100% try to initiate spicy times during a makeup because he wouldn't know how to handle the emotional vulnerability in any other way. Homeboy hasn't exactly had any healthy fight aftermaths. Hope yall are ready for the fluffy pain <3
Tag List: @luzzbuzz
More Than Anything Part 3 [Vox x Reader]
Part 1
Part 2
Part 2.5 (Vox POV)
Things at the Vee's Tower seemed relatively normal when you stepped into the lobby. It felt a little weird if anything. When Vox was upset, it could shut down the entire tower for days on end if it was something more serious. You didn't hear the hum of the overbearing generators that would keep things running during his fits and your worry only grew as you stepped into the elevator. You swallowed down your anxiety as you scanned your badge that would let you onto the elite floor where the penthouses of the Vee's were at the top.
Did something happen to Vox? Was he not here for some reason? Where would he go? Did he... just not care?
Anxiety swirled in your mind as the elevator doors slid open. You saw Velvette on the couch scrolling through her phone and the young overlord perked up when she saw you.
"Bout fucking time," she groaned as she pocketed her phone and got off the couch. "Do you have any idea what a pain in the ass it's been to babysit the man-child?" Velvette poked at your chest and you couldn't help but notice the dark circles under her eyes as she frowned at you. "You owe me for this."
Ninety percent of hell didn't see past Velvette's tough-as-nails exterior and if it hadn't been for the time you'd spent with the Vee's due to your relationship with Vox, you doubt you would have ever seen through the cracks in her demeanor either. For all her bark and bite, you could tell she cared for Vox and Valentino deeply. She wouldn't look so damn exhausted right now if she didn't.
"I'll make it up to you," you sigh in relief as you drop your bag to the side. "Where is he?"
To say you were less than pleased when you saw the door held shut by the smokey chains of Valentino's magic was an understatement. You were pissed. While you still felt a semblance of gratitude for the other Vee's keeping Vox from doing anything rash, you were going to tear them both a new one for keeping him caged like a fucking animal.
Velvette lifted her hands and got the cue to leave as you triggered your demon form and slashed Valentino's magic to wispy shreds. You yanked open the door and your eyes searched the room for Vox maniacally. There we no cameras and the windows had been covered with some sort of blockers. It looked like the Vee's had the sense to leave him with some comfort items and non-tech-involved things to pass the time, but the only technology you saw was some ancient Nokia-looking phone lying by his foot that he wouldn't be able to use to teleport out of the room.
"Vox?" You breathed as you saw him curled up in a corner with his screen buried against his knees.
His head whipped up and he breathed your name, only to curse as his body glitched hard from the prolonged stress.
"Y̶o̸u̴ ̸c̶a̷m̴e̸ ̸b̶a̸c̸k̴?̷," he asks, and your heart aches as you watch him flinch at the static in his voice.
"Oh hun, come here," you sigh as you get down on your knees and pull his screen towards you. You didn't know much about tech, but his personal repair sinner had shown you some of the basics to take care of Vox if anything ever got out of hand.
You reached around the back of his head and did a hard reset for him, holding him close to you as he went limp against your chest. When Vox powered back up, he flinched hard and pushed himself away from you, backing up with wide eyes and frantic breathing before he processed it was you who had been holding him and not Valentino.
"Woah! Easy," you gasp, not expecting the sudden movement. You look over him and instantly regret leaving him for as long as you had. "What... What happened?"
Vox's heart was pounding rapidly in his chest as flashes of Valentino's manipulative words flitted through his mind. The promises of affection if he crawled back. The venom in his voice as he told Vox you'd never love him again. The back and forth between gentle lies and cold hard truths. The one time he almost, almost caved into Valentino's whims.
With a shaky breath, Vox stomped down on as much of his weakness as he could and turned away from you. "It's not important."
"Like hell, it's not," you frowned as you reached toward him, only to pause as he flinched at the tone in your voice.
It was obvious there was a whole new can of worms to handle and most likely a moth to strangle. But you steady yourself and take a deep breath, deciding to take things one step at a time.
"I'm sorry for leaving," you start slowly as you sit properly on the floor with Vox. "I was scared and angry and processing everything. I needed space. But I should have at least texted you back or checked in. I didn't..." your voice wavers. "I didn't think that..."
"It's fine," Vox sighed. "I get it. What I don't get is why you're here. Why did you come back?"
"I was always going to come back," you say as you reach towards him slowly. Your heart ached to know he had genuinely started to believe you'd just abandon him, but given the pieces of the unsettling image of what happened while you were gone, you understood where it was coming from.
Vox looks at you and hesitates before he leans into your touch and lets you cup the side of his face. "I was angry and hurt and scared," you admit. "I needed time to process my feelings. I didn't want to say something I'd regret."
You shake your head and chuckle, "I'd say I should have known better, but this is our first big fight now that I think about it. It's uncharted territory for us both."
Vox was silent as he slowly reached up and took your hand. He let out a shaky breath as he looked down. "I've... any connection I've had with someone. It's never... survived this sort of thing. Once shit hits the fan, that tends to be the end of it. I thought... I thought you were gone for good."
"I won't let you think that ever again," you say as you cup the other side of his face with your free hand. You make him look at you, but you're gentle. "We'll talk about this. I'm in this for the long run, you dorky TV man."
"But I tricked you," Vox shook. His face flickered between heartbreak and frustration. "I stole your soul. You have no reason to fucking t̵͍͌r̸̰̈u̵͉̍s̸̯͛ẗ̶̫ me."
"I love you," you say without hesitation. Vox's eyebrows furrow and he opens his mouth to retort, but you shake your head and stop him. "You did a bad thing. You did break my trust. But I know why you did it. Loving you doesn't mean I'll forgive you every time you cross a major boundary, but it does mean that I will do whatever it takes to worth through the bullshit together," you say softly.
Your thumb swipes over Vox's screen as you feel him tremble in your hold. "You're worth that effort to me, Vox."
"Why?" Vox asked as his eyes darted over your face as if the answer to his confusion would be found there. He didn't understand. How could you come back? How could you want to forgive him? How could you be here in front of him, looking like he was the one who hung the stars in the sky rather than the one who drew souls to their doom like a siren song on a screen?
You kiss his forehead and pull him close as he shakes harder in your arms. "W̸̻͝h̴͖̒y̵̞̍?̵̝̕"
His claws dig into the back of your shirt as he hangs onto you like a lifeline. "I̵ ̷d̴o̶n̵'̶t̶.̴.̶.̵," Vox growls in frustration at the emotion that sticks in his throat. "I can't... I don't d̷e̴s̶e̷r̷v̴e̷ this."
"Because loving you has never been about what either of us deserves," you sigh as you kiss his head. "It's because despite everything, I know I could never replace you. So I'm willing to put in the work if you are."
A broken sob ripped itself from Vox's chest unwillingly as he held you tighter. Your heart broke, knowing this very well could be the first time anyone had actually tried to stick around after any of his fuck-ups. You held him close, rubbing his back as he worked through his emotions. You were there for him as he glitched and let out an anguished scream as everything he'd been holding in for so long finally poured out.
You don't know how long it is before he finally calms down. He looks up at you and you know his eyes would be bloodshot from the breakdown if that was how his screen functioned. He let out a deep breath and you smiled softly as he cupped your cheek.
"This isn't the first time I've thought you didn't belong down here," Vox admitted. His voice was hoarse from exhaustion and the pure angst session some cruel fucker decided would be entertaining to put him through. If he ever found that bitch, he'd wrangle her neck.
You laugh as you feel tears prick the corner of your eyes as you finally see the familiar spark in his eyes for the first time since you'd come back. "Nah, you know heaven wouldn't know the first thing about how to put up with my shit."
Vox barked out a tired laugh. "Damn right, they wouldn't. You're a menace."
"Yeah," you giggle as you press a kiss to his cheek. "But I'm your menace."
Vox reached up, his fingers tangling softly in your hair as he brought you in for a proper kiss. "Yeah. You're my menace. And I love you, more than anything."
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You know what I hate about modern mice? how pointlessly anti-repair they are. I have had plenty of mice break over time, and often it's just that some fluff or skin-flakes got wedged in the mouse wheel or under the buttons. You just need to open them up and clean them. Except.. where are the screws?
OH THERE THEY ARE. under the little skid-pads, which cannot be put back on once you take them off, because the adhesive has been ruined! You have to buy replacement pads, if they're available, and maybe cut them down to size, as well as clean off the residue of the previous pads.
You know how this problem could be fixed? JUST DON'T PUT THE PADS ON TOP OF THE SCREWS!
Then you'd have no problem. Easy to disassemble and clean.
But then it'd look 5% uglier because apparently people are scared of seeing screws, and also people might not just throw it out and buy a new one!
It's the terrible sort of weird planned obsolescence that happens as an almost accidental side effect of improving the product. Like, ball mice? They were designed to be disassembled. You didn't even need a screwdriver! Because you had to clean them regularly, or they'd gunk up too fast. Modern optical mice? They still get gunked up, the buttons and wheel still die eventually. They can be cleaned and repaired. But now that it's not required for all of them to be cleaned regularly, that function has been removed. they're designed to be disposable.
The same thing happened with TVs way back when. If you open up a TV from the 50s (or just look at the back, honestly, many of them were designed to be always-open), you'll find a schematic showing where all the tubes are and what models they are. Was this because the 1950s was a golden era of reparability? NO! it's because they burnt out all the time and you had to replace them! As soon as TVs got reliable enough that replacing tubes was no longer needed, the schematics became hidden behind paywalls and for authorized-service-personnel-only.
It would be only a minor change in aesthetics to make your mouse repairable/cleanable. Hell, most of the time when it's not simply fixed by cleaning it, it's because one of these broke:
This is an Omron D2FC-F-7N microswitch, used in a bunch of mice. It's designed to last about a million clicks. With a soldering iron and some solder (like 25$ on amazon) you can trivially replace it. New switches cost between like 10 cents and 2 dollars, depending where you buy it and how many you want. A couple bucks of parts and half an hour's worth of work, you can repair a 40$ mouse that's "died".
But they make it unnecessarily hard with the slide-pads being unreplacable. You have to find ones that match, you have to carefully clean off the old residue with IPA, or the new ones you just bought will fall off. All to make it look SLIGHTLY better (how often are you looking at the aesthetics of the bottom of your mouse, exactly? (no furries are allowed to answer this question!)) and maybe, just maybe, to push it over into "not worth it". You could do all that, but you have to buy new switches, new slide-pads/mouse-feet (SHUT UP FURRIES), and can you remember where your solder even is? you last used it when you were trying to fix that keyboard...
Basically one thing that is maddening to anyone with the very basics of electronic knowledge (seriously: the amount of skill you need for this is the kind you can get in less than an hour from watching a youtube tutorial) that we're surrounded by all this electrical nonsense that will break and have to be thrown out, but is mostly breaking in ways that could be fixed in a very short amount of time with relatively little work.
It's infuriating to go on amazon to buy another damn mouse and it pop up "hey you last bought this in 2021, you fool" and you're like I KNOW, IT SHOULD STILL BE WORKING TODAY!
I have computer parts from the 80s in my room right now that are still working when stuff made in the last 5 years is already dying! There's no reason it should be this way. It's an endless waste of time and money and resources and it's just to make some logitech or whoever executives slightly richer.
It's deeply bullshit. The modern day is going to be identifiable as the geological layer where most of the trash was generated. We're living in the middle of the quisquiliarumferous period: the layer of garbage.
#electronics#right to repair#planned obsolescence#ranting#I'm not actually mad at furries#it's a joke#I am a furry
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How would Farmer Sans handle hearing that MC was sick? Maybe they usually meet up a certain time while managing their morning chores and they’re just.. not there, only for him to later find that they’re bedridden
"hey, pumpkin."
The sound of Sans' voice, regardless of how soft it was, made you panic.
You sat bolt upright from your spot curled into the couch, jolting out of your strange fever dream. A cooling pack fell off your head, and a blanket you didn’t remember grabbing slipped from your shoulders to your lap.
Immediately, you could tell that you weren’t on your home couch. You didn’t recognise the blanket someone had tucked you under. You weren’t cold, you couldn’t smell the usual mix of dust and gradually fading damp - in fact, there were many wonderful scents mingling in the warm air, soup and tea and a sweet bread aroma that made your stomach rumble.
It certainly wasn’t where you expected to wake up, after you fell asleep in front of the dodgy TV once the painkillers finally kicked in. This was someone else’s couch. And after a few bleary moments, you recognised it all.
... It was Sans’ couch. You were in his house.
You looked up a little to see the man himself, as handsome as ever, leaning over the back of the sofa and looking at you. A gentle flicker of relief passed over his face.
“rise and shine,” he said, voice as warm as the room. “how’re you feelin’?”
Huh?
...
Your eyes widened. "S-Sans!?"
Bad decision. At such a sudden vocalisation, your body decided that was the perfect moment to send you into a horrendous coughing fit that made the inside of your throat feel like someone had gone at it with sandpaper.
Sans just put a big gentle hand on your back, letting you work through it, quiet as you hacked your lungs up.
Eventually the coughing eased off; once you had control of your body again, you turned your gaze back to him.
"Y-you...” Your cheeks were starting to burn. “why am I...?"
“you weren’t answerin’ the phone. i got worried.” As he spoke, you kept messing with your shirt, nervously pulling it down over yourself. “came to check on you, an’ you were totally out of it, could barely answer me. i had to go work, but figured i should bring you somewhere me an’ pap can keep an eye on you.”
... Oh no. You put your hands over your face, slowly getting quieter and quieter as the situation dawned on you. “Y-you really didn’t need to...”
“course we did. ain’t safe for you to be so sick all on yer own.”
This was a nightmare. Now, on top of being sick, you were absolutely mortified at Sans seeing you in this state. Tired, achy, sweaty... you were dressed in a stained old shirt and pyjama pants, visibly unshowered and pretty much as ungroomed as one could get. You distinctly remembered throwing stuff on your floor before you fell asleep, too weak to get up and go put it in the garbage - empty blister packs and used, crumpled tissues. Did he see all your dirty trash when he came to find you?
You wanted to melt into the couch. He had seen you delirious and ill, at your absolute greasiest and grossest. Stars, what did he think of you now?
“I-I’ve been out for hours?” you asked.
“mhm.”
Your whole world was coming down around your ears. Why couldn’t Sans have just let you die at home, where no one would see your shame?
“you didn't tell me you were sick,” he said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear. There was a strangely... sullen edge to his tone?
Your face was on fire. You had already intruded so much on him and his brother’s kindness over the last few weeks. Sans had repaired your stove and water pipes, bought you fresh food from the farm, helped fix a leak in the roof, not to mention when you asked him to stay the night like you were a frightened baby. Now here you were; being sick and disgusting right in the middle of his house.
Before he could say anything else, you pushed the blanket off you, swinging your legs over the side of the couch and scrambling to your feet.
“I-I should get home,” you said, hoarse.
Immediately, Sans’ brows raised. You didn't look at him for long, walking unsteadily and trying your best to concentrate on not tipping over.
“I’m so sorry to intrude. I’ll just-”
... Your feet went out from underneath you.
You squeaked, loudly - but Sans didn’t care, he scooped you up like you didn’t weigh a thing. To him, you probably didn’t weigh a thing. You could feel his massive strength through his clothes, and you immediately knew that if he wanted to, he could’ve thrown you straight into the air like a child.
You couldn’t tell if it was the height that was dizzying, how close your face was to his, or if you were just way weaker right now than you realised. But immediately your hands balled in his shirt.
"... easy," he murmured, one arm under your thighs. "i don't bite."
... Your face filled with so much heat it felt as if the tips of your ears were going to set alight. You tried to say something, but when you opened your mouth, literally nothing came out. Not a sound. All you could do was hold on to his shoulders.
Sans’ voice became normal again, jokingly stern. “sorry. not goin’ anywhere on my watch, pet. you need to rest. look at you - yer burnin' up.”
Your whole body had tensed up. But not out of fear. You just stared into his eyelights.
He very gently sat you back down onto the couch, putting the cold pack into your hands. “you stay right there, ok? i’ll getcha some soup. it should be ready by now.”
"O-ok," you helplessly replied.
Sans moved away, disappearing into the kitchen.
...
There wasn't much else you could do, but lay down and put the cooling pack back on your head... trying to figure out how to make your heart slow down.
#llama writes#sans: [uses his 'talking to a scared horse' voice]#mc: Why the fuck am I into this??? WHY AM I INTO THIS??#also hes upset because he wants to look after her and he doesnt like that she didn't tell him earlier#he likes caring for you. how could you deny him the opportunity#do you HATE HIM???
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omggg pls do miles 42 with a daughter (preferably a baby) !!🥺
daddy's little princess ft. miles morales
♡ pairings & aus: husband!dad!earth42!miles morales x black!fem!reader
♡ summary: you come home from work to your two favorite people bonding with each other
♡ warnings: mentions of murder..pretty sure thats it
♡ a/n: anon don't play w me this is convincing me to have a baby
♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡
YOUR HUSBAND LOVED HIS TWO GIRLS more than anything. That being you, of course-- his wife, along with your beautiful daughter Aaliyah, who had just turned one a couple days ago. Ever since you had become pregnant and he asked you to marry him, he's only had a soft spot for you and your little one.
Today, unfortunately, your boss called you at six in the morning to inform you that you were needed in the courthouse immediately, for whatever reason. While your husband was out doing whatever 'gangster' stuff he pleased in your teenage years, you had went through college and bagged a couple degrees in forensics and law. Miles had stopped being the prowler when he found out that you were pregnant, the ultimate fear of putting his daughter in danger causing him to pick up a well-paying job that allowed him to work from home. So here he was, your little girl laying on his chest as he watched you get ready. He carefully sat up, slowly bouncing her on his shoulder so that she wouldn't wake. He whispered, "Do you have to go? Tell that lil boy that today was your day off."
You giggle, slipping on your work pants, "He isn't some 'lil boy', Miles, he's my boss. And I wish I could stay, but apparently it's a really important case and they need the best of the best."
"Oh, so you sayin' you that girl, hm?" He whispered, rubbing your daughter's back when he heard her coo. You giggled, slipping on a white button up and undoing the top three, a black blazer accenting the plain blouse. You grabbed your purse and keys and headed over to your husband and beautiful daughter, kissing her on her forehead, "I guess so. I should be back by three or four, depending on how many people this person decided to slaughter."
"If you ain't home by four, I'll be the one up in that courthouse." Miles warns, but his lips stretch into a smile as he gives you a quick kiss on the lips, "I love you. Be safe."
You nod, "You gonna be okay with Aaliyah? Lately she's been fussy."
"This is literally my daughter, remember?" Your husband remarks jokingly, "She'll be okay. I got her, hermosa."
"Mkay." You suck your teeth with uncertainty, "Love you both endlessly."
And with that, you were out the door.
For the first four hours that you were gone, everything was a breeze. Aaliyah would let out an occasional cry or whine when she was hungry or needed to be changed, but she didn't start really acting up until about one 'o clock, where she was screaming so loud, Miles was sure that she had damaged her vocal chords beyond repair. He tried everything he possibly could- playing with her, trying to put her to sleep, feeding her, and nothing was working.
Finally, he just sighed, picking her up and holding her up to his head. He bounced her, "What's the matter lil ma, huh? Why're you cryin'? Is it cause you miss mommy?"
That statement earns a cry.
"Yeah...I miss her too." He sighs, placing your daughter on his shoulders as he holds her hands with his own, making his way to the living room. He then sits down and places her next to him, "Okay, if you stop cryin', then we can have some ice cream and watch some of mommy's TV shows that she doesn't let us watch. I'll let you pick, but you can't tell, okay? How does that sound?"
He knows that realistically, your daughter can't make out half of what he's saying, but he finds it hilarious when Aaliyah gives him a nod, her cries slowly started to silence. He smiles and hurriedly runs to the kitchen to fix one bowl of small strawberry ice cream and one bowl of vanilla. He grabs a small spoon and runs over to your daughter, who's sucking on her tiny fists angrily. Miles eyes her, "No, baby, look- here's your ice cream."
He feeds her a spoonful and she immediately gives him a toothless grin, "Yummy!"
"It is, isn't it? It's bussin'. Can you say bussin'?"
He laughs when Aaliyah just gives him incoherent noises. He then turns on the TV and clicks 'Real Housewives'. Was it necessarily appropriate? No, but then again, the girl was one, so as long as it stopped her screeching, it was good to go.
Before the two of them knew it, you were home, walking through the front door and expecting your husband and baby girl to be up and rowdy. Instead, you saw Aaliyah resting on Miles' chest, his head hanging off of the couch's armrest. Two bowls of ice cream were completely empty with spoons inside of them, licked completely clean. The muffled sound of your favorite show played aloud. You smiled and kicked off your flats, grabbing a blanket from the linen closet as you slid next to your husband. You felt him wrap an arm around you sleepily, "Mami?"
"I'm here." You smiled, snuggling into your lover's side as your hand ghosted over your baby's thick hair. You heard Miles mumble against your ear, "I love you."
And you replied sweetly, eyelashes batting as you felt the opiate of sleep undertake you,
"I love you more."
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻
thank you for reading!
𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @moisttowllet // @Dee-m-cee // @liliummz // @starhrtz // @daisydark // @randomhoex // @solanawrld // @whore4hobie // @tanakaslastbraincell // @simp4miguell // @nyrovi3 // @my3tumbles // @aziulsworld // @enchantingfoxsparkles
𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✎: @Dee-m-cee // @euphorichappiness10 // @adoree-kaelynn // @mhadnirb // @mmst4rz // @iris-theflower // @fleurrieerecs // @kenlani // @kala2022
#‧₊˚✩ — 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒!#‧₊˚✩ — 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒!#spiderman#spiderman into the spider verse#across the spiderverse#miles morales#miles morales x reader#spiderverse x reader#spiderverse x you#spiderverse x y/n#miles morales x you#miles morales x y/n#miles morales x black!reader#earth 42 miles morales x reader#prowler miles#miles x reader#atsv x reader#spiderman: across the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#earth 42 miles morales fluff#miles morales fluff#miles morales earth 42
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How Can I Repair Static Or Distorted Sound On My Television?
One of the most frequent issues is static or buzzing sound on TV, which affects a lot of people. Look for a TV repair service expert when the situation gets worse. Your TV's functionality is not significantly impacted by buzzing. However, you should be concerned if the TV is continuously loudly buzzing.
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#lg led tv repair#tv repair near me#top tv repair#tv repair services#led tv repair service#best tv repair near me
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The Object that stood in the way of a World Cup pt. 5
Hi. So here is the last part of the official story, but I do want to do another part of some cute moments and things like that. Also thanks to @lyak12 for the big sister moments with Lucy ahaha. <3
Ona Batlle x Reader
Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Epilogue
Flashbacks are in italics
TW: Suggestiveness
Description: R returns to playing football
Word Count: 3.7k
You didn’t have to send the letter. But you did. Sort of. You left in her cubby for her to see after practice. It was the last day before your first match back. It was the last match of the domestic league and you had been promised at least the final 10 minutes. Was it the best timing for something of that magnitude? Probably not. But you needed her to know how you felt before the summer breaks began, and she went off the Olympics.
You hadn’t been ignoring Ona like you were at the beginning of the season, but you weren’t friends either. You still remained in your separate friend groups, but you didn’t avoid her like the plague, and she had gradually left her little corner of the gym during sessions. You were still in love with her. That much was definite – you often stared at her during matches, allowing yourself to reminisce over your memories. But you wanted to do it properly, with full communication and honest answers. You decided that the letter was an olive branch; she could do with it as she pleased.
She could ignore it. That would hurt, but you would endure it.
She could acknowledge but reject you. That would be painful but survivable.
She could accept it. That thought made your heart happy.
Since That Day with Lucy and the time away to repair yourself, everyone could see how much better you were doing. You were laughing again, smiling brightly as Patri joked around, giggling at Pina for tripping over the cones, chatting softly to Esmee or chasing after Mapi as Ingrid shook her head. Lucy was happy that the bubbly girl she considered a little sister was returning.
That Day, she had taken you to her house and laid you in bed. You were exhausted – mentally, emotionally, physically – and so fragile. She couldn’t remember a time when she had seen you so small. She had called Keira; she was frightened by your outburst, disturbed by what you had told her and saddened to think you thought you couldn’t talk to her. Keira had done an excellent job in calming her - promising it wasn’t her fault and that she was there for you now, and that’s all that mattered. The pair had set up the guest bedroom for you to stay in as you got ready to go back to England. They had given the heads up to the Lionesses that you would be coming home for a while – Leah got the full story, but everyone was told that you weren’t doing ok and needed more support than they could give you at Barcelona.
Ona was also taking the months to heal. She was talking to a therapist that helped her regulate her emotions, particularly when she was scared. You could see the change. It was nothing drastic, nothing too noticeable, but you knew. She was working on herself, and that was all that you wanted. You still watched all of her games for Spain. You had promised her you would always support her, and you always would. You hadn’t watched the matches in person, but they were always on your TV – sometimes favouring watching her matches over the Lionesses.
“Ugh, I don’t want to go,” Ona complained as you packed her suitcase for her. She was lying on your bed with just a big T-shirt on. It was one of your old England training tops.
“Because of what happened last time?” You knew bringing it up was a risk, but you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to protect her from everything bad in the world.
“I mean, yes, there’s that, but …” She looked a little embarrassed as she turned her head away from you. You reached over and gently grabbed her chin, forcing her to look you in the eye.
“But?” You raised an eyebrow.
“Te voy a extrañar.” You heart softened at her confession.
“Oni,” you cooed as you flopped on top of her. I’m going to miss you too—so much. But I will still be supporting you. I promise.” You littered kisses over her face, ignoring her squeals and laughter telling you to get off
“You’re playing on the 7th, right?” You breathed into her ear as you gently bit her earlobe
“Sí” She all but moaned out.
“Well, my match is on the 6th,” you drifted over to the other side of her neck. “So, I will be watching your game; I’ll always watch your games. Forever and ever.” You drifted down her body, pushing her t-shirt up as you went.
“Si us plau, fot-me,” she begged.
“I don’t speak Catalan, Oni.” You reminded her as you tugged off her shirt.
80 minutes into the last game of the season, your number flashed green on the screen held up by the 4th Official. This was it. All your hard work had finally paid off. Marta ran over to you and smacked your awaiting hands, using them to pull you into a brief hug. “Vamos, chica,” She whispered in your ear. You ran onto the pitch as the crowd clapped and cheered for you. You looked to where you knew some of the Lionesses sat; they had made the trip over to Spain to watch your debut. You knew it was in your mind, but you would swear on your life that their cheers were the loudest. This was your happy place, finally back on the pitch. You felt the final pieces of tension melt away. You were finally home. All the emotions of the past 18 months were forgotten. The heartbreak, heartache, anger, fear, and frustration were all gone in a moment as the ball fell to your feet. You always felt the most at peace on the pitch.
“Ok, listen up.” It was media day for United, something you had mixed feelings over. You always liked the video side of media day, but you hated the photos – you always felt so awkward doing them. “On videos, we have Toone and Russo, and Blundell and Galton. On photos, we have Ladd, Zelem, and Parris. On interviews, we have Turner and Williams, Batlle and Y/S/N …” You stopped listening. Thank god you didn’t have to do photos straight away. And you were with Oni – sure, it would fuel the flame about whatever you were for the fans. But you were with Oni.
“Vamos, amor. We’ve got an interview to do.” Ona tangled her fingers with yours and pulled you over to the interview station.
“It’s pretty simple, introduce yourself, then just read the cards and answer them. We’re already rolling, so just start whenever you’re ready.” A man said from behind the camera. You looked at Ona for confirmation before introducing yourself. It was simple. The questions were nothing you hadn’t seen or answered before.
“Ok, amor, what is your happy place?” Ona read from the card.
“Hmm … lemme think ... um, is it cliché to say the football pitch?” You laughed, looking at Ona as she rested her head on your shoulder, groaning at your answer. “What? It is. It’s always been the place that calms me down. I don’t really get nervous on the pitch either, even for important games. Beforehand, I’ll be absolutely bricking it, but on the pitch … cool as a cucumber.”
“Bricking … it?” Your phrasing confused her. You always forget that she was speaking her non-native language; she was so fluent in English now.
“Oh, um … nervous, I guess? Oni, you know how I get before games, especially the big ones, but I'm absolutely fine once that whistle goes.”
“I do know how nervous you get. Do you remember our game at the Arnold Clark Cup? You were so nervous. Leah had to come get me before the match.” She smiled teasingly at you.
“Stop,” you whined. You said you’d take that to the grave.” You didn’t like people knowing how panicky you could get. You also didn't particularly want to spill how Ona had gotten you to calm down —she had kissed you—long and hard and deep. It had calmed you down instantly.
They say that history repeats itself, and you think they might be onto something. Your team was finishing the domestic season in typical Barca fashion. You were 8-0 up with 10 minutes still to play. You set a pass to Lucy as you began to push forward. It was a perfect cross back from Ona as you entered the penalty area. You controlled it with your chest to the ground. You swung your leg back. This time, there was no clash of studs. No horrific pain. No blood. This time, you released the ball into the back of the net.
You didn’t care what you looked like as you ran around like a headless chicken. You may have looked silly celebrating this hard for the ninth goal of the game, but you didn’t care. You were back. You leapt onto Ona, legs wrapping around her waist as her arms came to support you under your thighs.
“Estás de Vuelta, amor,” she shouted. With that response alone, you knew she had read the letter.
“I’m back, Oni,” you laughed as she put you down and straight into the arms of Lucy and the rest of the team.
The match ended 9-0. The match had been won long before that, but everyone assured you you got the winner. Medals were handed out as you cheered with the rest of the squad, music blasted, and shouts were heard from all around. You didn’t bother looking for your parents; you knew they weren’t there. But you did see the smiling faces of Alessia, Ella and Leah, with Mary and Georgia on Facetime. After promises to find them later you found a relatively quiet corner in the tunnel and allowed yourself to fully process your feelings. Elation. Happiness. Love. Everything was so different compared to this time last year.
Someone cleared their throat, drawing your attention to them. It was Ona. “Um … can we talk?”
“Yeh, yeh. Do you want to sit?” You gestured to the floor against the wall. You both got comfortable and sat for a few heartbeats.
“Felicidades … your goal, it was beautiful.” She was clearly a little awkward.
“Oni, the letter –” you started
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry for what I did to you. I was looking for a fight. I was terrified you’d leave me behind. And I was jealous Barca wanted you. There will never be a day where I don’t regret what I did to you, and I hate myself for it. For hurting you so badly. You didn’t deserve any of what happened. I was a raging bitch, and I was so awful to you, and -” She gushed out.
“Oni, stop,” you said gently. "It’s ok. I forgive you. You need to start forgiving yourself, too.” You rested your head on her shoulder. You did forgive her. She had done a horrible thing, but she wasn’t a horrible person. She leaned her head on top of yours, enjoying the closeness she had craved for so long.
“Did you mean it?” she said after a long pause. Her voice was fearful that you might reject her—which was perfectly within your rights, she reminded herself. “That you’re still in love with me?”
“Yes. I am still absolutely head-over-heels in love with you. I never stopped," you answered honestly. "But if we are to try again, we’re going to need to be friends first. So, I’m reintroducing myself to you.” You stuck out your hand. “Hola, I’m Y/N," you repeated the words you said to her so long ago back in Manchester when you first met.
“Hola, soy Ona.” She laughed as she shook your hand, letting it linger for longer than she should have. Her hand was warm, rough, soft, and perfect.
"Got any nicknames?" Her lips split into that beautiful wide grin. Your smile matched hers.
“Um, hola.” You said as you stood in front of her cubby.
“Hola?” She was sceptical of you. Not many people had made an effort to talk to her, let alone talk to her in Spanish. It was the end of her third day at United, and she was homesick and terrified about whether she had done the right thing.
“So, I overheard you in the lunchroom earlier about Spanish food being so different from English food, and I was going to make paella for my tea tonight anyways, so I was wondering if you wanted to come round? I can’t promise it will be any good; the recipe I’m supposed to be following says it's ‘Spanish Rice’, not even paella, but … yeh.” God, you were so awkward; you hadn’t even let her answer the question. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You probably have plans. So … anyways … I’m gonna now,” you went to turn around before her fingers caught your wrist.
“You didn’t let me answer” She smiled. Your heart fluttered in a strange way. Were you having a heart attack because a pretty girl smiled at you?
“What is tea? I thought it was a drink.” She asked. Oh, god – that voice. You thought you had died and gone to heaven.
“Tea? … oh, yeh. Sorry, I forgot I’m northern,” you laughed. “It’s how you say dinner if you’re northern. Um, I think it’s ‘cena’ in Spanish?”
“Ah, sí, sí. Yes, I shall come for tea.” She giggled. You knew you had just fallen in love right then and there.
Ona was slightly nervous as she knocked on your flat door. A pretty girl had asked her to come round. She wasn’t used to this; she was usually confident, always knowing who and what she wanted. But you had surprised her with your gentle smile, quick ramblings, and soft laugh; you had stolen her heart and didn’t even know it.
“Hey, sorry to leave you hanging.” You said as you answered the door. Your expression confused her, but she ignored it as you ushered her into your flat. It was exactly how she expected, a perfect physical representation of you. She never wanted to leave.
“Ok, so I’ve already cooked it, so it’s ready when you are, really. I don’t particularly like seafood, so it’s chicken and chorizo. I know that Barcelona is famous for its seafood. And there are peppers and peas in there, too. I hope that’s okay,” you said as you gestured for her to sit at the table.
“Sounds deliciosa,” she commented, looking around. Your flat was clean, neat, and tidy, but not to the point that it looked like no one lived there. You had a lot of pictures of friends dotted around, but it didn’t seem like many of your family. You clearly took pride in your home. Ona could respect that. She always thought that you could tell a lot about someone based on how they decorate and treat a space.
“Here you go,” you said as you handed her a bowl of steaming rice. “So … this might come across as rude or something, and I really don’t want that, but … um, how do I ask this? How, um … howdoyousayyourname?” You said it so quickly it was a blur. Ona clearly didn’t understand you.
“Qué?”
“Um … how do you say your last name?” You asked sheepishly. “I want to get it right. It’s important to me that I say people’s names right,” you explained. Her heart melted at your kind gesture.
“Oh, um, it’s like bat-jyay.”
“Batlle,” you said slowly. “Batlle,” you said quicker, reassurance in her accompanying smile.
“Cool … now that that’s out of the way, do you have any nicknames or anything?” It was clear to Ona that you were trying to get her to feel more comfortable around you.
“Um … not really. It’s common in Spain to add 'ita' at the end of words, so sometimes Onita? Or Oni, I guess?”
“Oni, I like it.” The nickname rolled off your tongue so effortlessly that Ona swooned.
“What about you, any nicknames?”
“Oh, no, not really. I mean beyond the standard English love, or darling, or pet, or duck or anything really,” you laughed.
“Well, I won’t call you love. But I will call your amor, sí?” Your heart was doing backflips as you looked down at the table, hiding your blush.
The summer that followed was unforgettable. You hadn’t had a summer off since … you couldn’t remember when. You and Ona had used the few weeks before she left for camp to reacquaint yourself. There were lots of laughs shared over coffees and slightly too-long hugs. It was easy to fall back in love with her and rediscover your dynamic.
You didn’t go to Paris, no matter how much you wanted to see her. You watched every game, though, sending her a steady stream of your consciousness through text. You knew she couldn’t see them when she was playing, but you wanted her to know you supported her like you had promised to do all those years ago. Ona adored the fact that she would look at her phone after the match to hundreds of messages, reading every one as she chuckled at your play-by-play.
She didn’t attend preseason, but you did, obviously. You used the time to add the final touches to your new style of play. You were ready to prove to the world that you were back and better than ever. You had seen some comments on social media speculating about your return. But you knew you were ready. When Ona returned, you lingered behind the group who swarmed the Olympians. She had quickly extricated herself and came to join you. “Congratulations, Oni. I’m very proud of you,” You said as you hugged her tightly, dropping a series of light kisses on her head.
The final Friday before the season officially started was full of drinks and laughter. You had one final blowout before settling in for the next season, and naturally, you ended up at Manuela’s.
“You did good, kid,” Lucy said as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You were at the bar, sipping on a fruity drink.
“Thanks, Luce. For everything. I know I didn’t exactly make it easy on you, but …”
“Hey, no, don’t do that. You were in a bad place. I didn’t do it because I needed to; I did it because I wanted to. You’re like my little sister. I love you more than I love my actual little sister.” She promised you.
“I know, but still. Thank you. I appreciate you, truly.” You rested your head against her shoulder as she squeezed you gently.
“Y/N,” Someone called for your attention. It was an incredibly drunk Patri. “Ven a bailar, chica.” You made your way over to the group; almost everyone was incredibly drunk; even Alexia had the tell-tale flush on her cheeks, but that could have been more to do with Olga dancing in front of her than the alcohol. The only people that you think weren’t drunk were you and Ona.
“You’re not drinking?” You asked as she came to stand next to you.
“Not really, don’t want to be hungover tomorrow,” she answered. “What about you?”
“Same. This is probably the only drink I’ll have.” Your therapist had advised you to stay away from drinking as much as possible, telling you that it could affect you in negative ways. You didn’t really mind; you liked being able to remember everyone’s drunk antics. It was useful for blackmail purposes, and at least one other person remained sober during nights out anyway.
You spent the night splitting yourself between the dancefloor with Patri and Pina, the booth with Ingrid and Mapi, or the table Marta and Caroline had claimed. It was fun, but you forgot how hot Barcelona nights out could be, even in the late summer, when the temperature rarely dipped below mid-teens. It was hot and loud, and sweaty. To escape, you pushed your way outside, taking deep breaths of the fresh night air.
“Esta todo bien, amor?” It was Ona.
“Always so concerned, Oni.” You laughed.
“Lo siento. It’s just, I saw you leave … and I wanted to check on you and …” She was starting to panic, thinking she was overstepping a boundary.
“Hey, Oni. It’s ok. I like that you're so concerned about me.” You reached for her hand, holding it tightly to reassure her. “I keep forgetting how hot Barcelona can be,” you explained. "I’m still not used to it.” She laughed lightly.
“You’ll have to get used to it. I don’t want you to leave Barcelona” she trailed off, “because of the weather” she added quickly.
“I don’t want to leave Barcelona either … especially because of the weather,” you teased.
“Callate,” She groaned as you tugged her closer, arm going around her shoulder as hers came around your waist. “I like your outfit.” She murmured as she played with the lace on the bottom of your bralette. “It’s the same one you wore in Manchester the first time we…” she whispered, trailing off again. You knew exactly what she was referring to.
“Do you want to go dance?” You asked after a few minutes of soaking up her closeness.
“Sí, vamos.” She led you back to the dancefloor, her back coming against your front as you held her close. It felt like the most normal thing to press your body closer. It felt right as she turned around to face you, her arms looping around your neck. It felt normal as your eyes flicked from hers to her lips and back again. The way your heart pounded felt nice when she stepped even closer, somehow managing to pull herself even more against you. Like always, the way the world slid sideways as your lips pressed against hers. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“Vull això. ens vull. Si us plau, porta'm a casa.”
“I still don’t speak Catalan, Oni.”
Yeh, so that's the end of the proper story, but I want to do an epilogue/final chapter thing about cute moments between R and Ona and stuff. So, yeh. I hope you enjoyed it.
#woso#woso community#woso x reader#ona batlle#ona batlle x reader#woso imagine#woso blurbs#woso soccer#woso oneshot#barca femeni#barca femeni x reader#fc barcelona#manchester united#man utd#man utd women#lucy bronze#lionesses#lionesses x reader#woso fanfics
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Mornings Like These
Cooper Howard x Fem Reader
CW: slightly NSFW, established relationship, mentions of sex, sexual daydream, OOC Cooper, Cooper in a frilly apron cooking, cursing, slight deviance from the canon, more domestic Cooper because 🥹❤️
AN: Had the most wonderful request to do something a little different than what I’m used to! I know it’s out of character for our cowboy ghoul but I just loved the concept. This is a continuation of my last work, so it is set in the same Fallout TV series and Fallout 4 tense. Breakfast is served my lovely Cooper simps, hope I did your ask justice @morrrrow !! Hope y’all enjoy!
“God damn this fuckin’ thing” spoke the ever recognizable southern twang of Cooper from the kitchen. You woke up to hearing a few pots and pans clank together as he removed them from the cabinet, and his not so quiet curses in frustration that he was a man who failed at being quiet. Outside of bounty hunting of course. You were still in bed, having just barely woken up as the sun poured in through the windows, making you rub the sleep from your eyes. You padded into the kitchen to see what all the noise was about, seeing him trying to work the stove that you both bought off of someone that was supposed to be repaired and in working order. “What a fuckin’ rip off” he said angrily as he threw the towel down on the floor that was resting on his shoulder, then leaned over the sink to breathe, doing his best to try to control his anger before he started breaking things. “Stove givin’ ya trouble, hun?” You asked, your voice carrying a sleepy rasp to it as a small playful smile stretched to your lips, making him look over at you. In that moment, it was as if all the anger inside of him had just melted away upon seeing you, clad in just a tank top and underwear, hair slightly messy from sleep. You were truly a sight to behold at all hours of the day in his eyes. “Shit, I’m sorry darlin’. I wanted t’ surprise you with breakfast but this damn thing won’t work. Shoulda known it was a fat load a shit when he said it was workin’” he replied, defeat and agitation still evident in his tone, making you walk closer to him and grab his hand. “Hey, it’s okay, Coop. I think it’s mighty sweet you wanted t’ do that. Can I take a look? Maybe a fresh set’a eyes can help?” You asked, watching as his shoulders dropped a little bit as the tension left him at your touch, a small smile reaching his thin, marred lips as he looked down at his girl. “Go ‘head” he replied, starting to follow you and what you were trying to do but you stopped him before he could do anything. “*You* have a seat and relax, I’ll take a look, ‘kay?” you said, your hands resting on his shoulders to make sure he listened to you, knowing well and good his stubbornness was his biggest attribute. He gave a grunt before giving in, recognizing that you just wanted him to relax after being all worked up. “I’ll take care of it, promise. I’m a big girl, but if I need anythin’ I’ll holler for ya” you said, smiling up at him sweetly once more as you rubbed his shoulders a little before kissing him softly. His hands rested on your hips for a moment as you kissed, and in that moment, everything felt at peace in the world. As you parted from the kiss, you turned and moved out of his way before coming to take a look at the new appliance. Well, maybe not *new* but new for post war standards. You took a look at the wiring, noticing that it looked pretty good for a shit box that survived a nuclear bomb or two. No rust, no corrosion, hell even the paint didn’t look half bad. Cooper knew he had to get it for you the moment your pretty eyes lit up with excitement upon seeing it, going on about how much you missed making homemade pies, casseroles, and bread. He knew you were one hell of a cook with the passion you put into making some iguana, or even your famous stew he’d grown to love that was made from just about anything you could get your hands on. He swore you put some kind of drugs in your food with the way he craved it all the time, he’d joke that you could put cyanide in it and still manage to make it taste delicious. And that was just over a fire, he could only imagine the creations you’d put out if given the right materials. Seeing you working a stove, in a house that was starting to get pretty settled into, would be one step closer to the dream of having a domestic life with you when the rest of the world had gone to shit. He wanted to see you happy, because when you were happy, everything was alright in the world in his book.
You opened the door to the stove, bent over and examining the inside for any reason as to why it wasn’t working. The broiler seemed good, all the coils were there, nothing was rusted or corroded so you weren’t quite sure what the issue was. Cooper however, was in a whole other world looking at you. Had he been the man he was before meeting you, he’d have had half the mind to fuck you right then and there while your body was half way in the oven. He gave a groan at his own daydream, watching you with your ass in the air, clad in just the panties you were wearing, making him shift in the small, dining room chair he was sitting on as his pants began to grown uncomfortably tight. You always had a way of getting to him, whether you meant to or not, that man stayed feral for you all hours of the day. He wondered if your moans would be muffled or amplified with your head stuck in the oven, how you’d squeeze him tight with the slight sensory depravation. What he really wanted was the memory to play in your mind each time you’d use it, for you to bend down and remember the way he used you in that same position as you’d slide a casserole in the oven. He was broken from his daydream when you called his name, finding that you were no longer in the kitchen but outside checking the power source. He stood up and walked towards the front door, leaning in the open doorway as you stood outside, looking to him with a relieved smile as you found the solution. “Was wonderin’ why it was so hot in there” you thought out loud, explaining that it was a problem with the power source, not the stove itself before flipping a few switches and connecting a few wires then hearing your electricity hum back to life. “‘s ‘cause you’re here” he joked flirtatiously, sending a wink and a smirk your way, making you giggle. “Wasn’t the stove, was the power. Radstorm must’ve knocked it out last night” you said as you both came back inside, plugging the stove back in and sure as shit, it turned on. You dusted your hands off, standing there proudly in front of your new, working oven. He was thoroughly impressed. “Well I’ll be damned, when’d you get so handy?” Cooper asked with a teasing grin, making you smile as he looped an arm around your waist proud that his little lady was able to fix the problem. “Since I had to start fixin’ things ‘fore you break ‘em” you teased, coming up to kiss his cheek as he swatted your ass affectionately in retaliation.
“Ya know, before you start cookin’ I have the perfect thing for you to wear” you said, slipping from his grasp for only a moment, making him raise a brow at you as you giggled and treaded into the closet of what you called your bedroom. You opened it, finding a frilly white apron you used to own back in the day when you would bake and cook everything by hand at home. You smiled as you grabbed it, knowing full and well you’d have hell to pay for this little stunt, but when has that ever stopped you before? So you snatched it up, leaving it folded before coming back into the kitchen and handing it to him. “A good cook needs a good apron, and I just know this one would look damn good on you” you said, handing it to him with the most mischievous glint in your eyes and grin stretched to your lips, leaving him to unfold it and look it over. Now this was where you were expecting to get in some serious shit. To hear a chide comment or a “never in a million years, sugar” but no, this man looked at you like you’d handed him a challenge, and he was going to take it in stride. So with a smirk, he set it aside and started to shake his duster off from his frame. “I’ll do ya one better there, little lady” he said, that look in his eyes told you he was up to no good and it had you curious. He started working his shirt off and you’d be damned if you weren’t enjoying the sight of him shirtless and just in his pants, the decorative buckle on his belt helping him maintain that rugged cowboy look. He noticed your stares, giving a dry chuckle. “Like whatchya see, sweetheart?” He asked, his voice dipping a little lower but he didn’t need you to say anything, he already knew the answer. “Always” you replied, a half lidded expression on your face as your tone dripped with something a little less pure. What you really hadn’t been expecting was when you saw him take his pants and briefs off before you, a slack jawed grin coming to your mouth as he tied the apron around his frame. Completely naked underneath. You gave a laugh as you watched him wear it with pride. “You sir, never fail to surprise me” you said, making him chuckle but you spotted the tent that started to poke at the apron where he was getting hard underneath. “Think you’re right, it’s a pretty good look” he said, turning to face away from you and you gave that same crude whistle he’d always give you when he liked something you wore or did, because you had an eye full of ass standing right in front of you. You walked up and stood behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso and laying kisses to his shoulder and back. “On second thought, who needs breakfast when you look this good? Hell, I think you pull it off better than I ever did” you said through a giggle, feeling him swat at your grabby hands the way you do when he gets handsy with you. “Can’t disturb a chef when he’s cookin’, sugar” he said coyly, making you chuckle as he started frying a few slices of Cram in the skillet. “Oh but you can disturb me when I’m doin’ laundry? I see how it is” You said playfully as you took a seat down at the dinner table you two found, it wasn’t much, but it was nice all things considered. Gave that homey touch that was missing from the house when you two first put together the settlement. You watched as he romped around the kitchen, going out of his way to put on a show for you and get you as worked up as you make him. “You are such a tease” you said, making him grin as he had his back turned to you, fully focused on making a good breakfast for the two of you to enjoy. “Welcome to my world, sweetheart” he said, making you laugh. You could certainly get used to this.
#fallout#fallout x reader#the ghoul smut#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul#cooper howard smut#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard#fallout smut
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𝐂𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖!
╭─────────────────────── ( 🎐 )
even though you don't talk, they'll still find a way to listen
› 〉 📂 .ೃ | mute reader, jus some fluff really, bit on the short side
requested by @/anon
╰─➤ 💌 ₍₁₎ ok i should nawtttt have used this colour scheme im squinting like a rat at my screen tryna see what i'm saying. the title is 'cigarettes out the window' (shoutout tv girl) if u couldnt read it which i do not hold against u
ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 GEPARD.
it's simply in his nature to look out for others, to ensure that everyone is alright. and when he meets you, he's thrown for a loop a little. because you are fine.
the first time he sees you is in serval's workshop- you're just leaving, and something compels him to make sure that he speaks to you, even if it's for a few fleeting moments before you leave and he most likely never sees you again.
it's a simple question of how your day is, but you simply offer him a small smile before ducking past him, scurrying out of the door that he held open.
he's puzzled at first- maybe it's something to do with him? did you not want to talk to him? but then his sister explains that you're mute, and now he feels like a fool.
and thus begins his attempts to talk to you.
he writes you little notes to begin with. luckily for him, you're a regular at serval's shop, always seemingly having some device or another broken and in need of repairing. serval rolls her eyes at the pair of you- at gepard for being an idiot (you can still hear, you don't need notes), and at you for your attempts to run into her brother as often as possible (those machines weren't really broken).
despite this, it was somewhat amusing to watch the pair of you attempt to flirt with each other. and somewhat cute when your attempts worked.
you kept each and every one of gepard's notes to you, as redundant as they were. his handwriting was a little scruffy, and if you looked at them hard enough you could spot the little tremors where he tried to make the lettering neat.
a special treat was when he decided to add little doodles to them. it was anyone's guess as to what they were supposed to be- you were pretty sure that one of them was supposed to be you- and your heart warmed amidst the chicken scratch and stick figures.
you decide to write your own note back to him. in the top right corner is a little sketch of him, on a similar level to his own creations, that you hope he'll appreciate alongside the note.
you give it to him along with your best smile, mentally capturing the look of joy on gepard's fave at your little gift to him. you were gone by then, shyness overtaking your urge to stay, so you could only imagined his face when he realised that what you had written to him was a formal request to take him out on a date.
ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 DAN HENG.
for dan heng to open up to someone new, several criteria have to be met.
for starters, he had to be at least a little bit comfortable around you. receptive, but not too probing or overbearing. rational, but not judgmental. open, but not too much.
in many ways, he was like a cat. you had to let him come to you.
and luckily for you, you seemed to fulfil those criteria.
as one of the newest additions to the astral express, you were in some sort of in-between phase of being one of them and a stranger. you communicated in your own ways, but you found yourself withdrawing to your room. it was overwhelming, this new environment.
it was only natural that you felt more drawn to dan heng more than anyone else. he had similar qualities to you- more introverted, tended to keep to himself. and, as you later found out, you both had a tendency to burn the midnight oil.
it became almost routine to run into him when you're both up late, wandering the astral express for some peace of mind. brief encounters with little nods sent your direction gradually evolved into longer moments spent basking in each other's presence, mostly in silence. but not always.
you both had your reasons to be up late- on the nights where dan heng looked more frazzled, a certain look in his eye, is when you began to piece him together.
he'd lend you some information of his own volition occasionally, telling you about the nightmare he had, recurring or not. there was just this certain quality to you, a look in your eye that made him feel like you truly did listen to him.
and he wouldn't trade your late-night rendevous for the world.
𝜗𝜚 honkai star rail masterlist
#୨୧ gia.txt :: gepard#୨୧ gia.txt :: dan heng#hsr x reader#hsr fluff#honkai star rail fluff#honkai star rail x reader#hsr gepard x reader#gepard landau x reader#gepard x reader#gepard fluff#gepard landau fluff#hsr gepard fluff#hsr dan heng x reader#dan heng fluff#dan heng x reader#dan heng x reader fluff
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Would you consider a part two of the sleeping with Donnie fic where he figures out all reader wanted was to fully cuddle and he like. Pulls them into another one because he wants to give them what they need in the relationship
donnie x gn reader - part two of part one
April: so………!! did it happen :D
April: did you two finally cuddle through the entire night!!!!!!
You snorted. April had always been nosy. Well, you were dating her pseudo brother. Also… you had no one else to talk to about your turtle mutant boyfriend. Luckily, April was no snitch. Or at least you hoped. So you began to write back.
you: yep! only took some expert planning and|
You went to type more but your phone froze. You groaned and threw it to the floor before wincing at the crack that rang throughout Donnie’s empty room. That most likely did not help your poor phone.
Your phone had been glitching and freezing for the past few months but you were too lazy to go buy another one. So you kept bringing it back to Donnie for short term repairs until your phone could no longer even turn on. The perks of having a genius turtle boyfriend.
You picked it off the floor and left Donnie’s room to find him in his lab, hunched over a new project. Your phone would probably have to wait but you better put it on the wait list before his brothers broke something too.
“Donnie! My phone keeps freezing!” You complained, waving it around even though he didn’t look up. “Can you fix it later when you’re done?”
“Mhm,” he replied just before a loud drilling noise filled his lab. You scurried away, eyebrows furrowed as the noise sent pain throughout your skull. And that was one of the downfalls of having a genius turtle boyfriend.
You returned to his bed, feeling around for the remote. You pointed it at his flatscreen TV and ran through the channels. As always, nothing was on. You settled for Animal Planet. Maybe they’d have some turtle flirting tips or something.
Donnie walked in to you watching sea worms.
“Did you know worms sword fight with their dicks?” You asked, your attention finally being pulled away from the TV. Donnie looked unimpressed, arms crossed over his chest. “We should try.”
“Do I look like a worm to you? No thanks.” He walked foreward and took your phone from your hand. “So it keeps freezing?”
“Usually on text messages.” You pointed to the screen, April’s name displayed at the top. “I dunno if my phone just can’t handle texts anymore or what. It’s just annoying at this point.”
“Have you tried turning it off and on again?” He motioned with his hand for you to follow.
“I’m not that stupid, Don!” You grabbed his hand and he only partly flinched. Definitely a win in your book.
“Hmph, I’m just covering all bases.” Donnie looked over your phone, eyes trailing left to right. “No cracks, it doesn’t look like you clicked on any suspicious links since you were texting April, and the screen seems fine.. except for the crack in the middle. Is that new?” You pretended you didn’t hear that last part.
He stopped in his lab, squinting at the screen. You felt a sudden shift in his mood.
“You must leave.” He let go of your hand shooed you from his lab with a hand on your back to gently push you. You stood, shocked, outside as he turned and shut the door without a single glance back. He usually let you watch over his shoulder or, if there were sparks, a few feet away for safety.
But your phone? Fixing your phone wasn’t going to involve explosions or toxins or whatever dangerous chemical Donnie could probably name. You woefully trudged away, hoping he was just in a bad mood and not mad at you.
You face planted into the couch. After a few moments, the handle of a sword prodded you in the side and you turned your head to look up at the culprit. “Leo, why do you have your sword out in your living room?”
“Sword of because of you,” Leo huffed out. “Who knows when you’ll stab Donnie in the back?”
“Shut up!” Mikey called out from somewhere.
“Just kidding!” Leo grinned, jumping over the couch and landing on your back. You let out a pained groan. “I’m not that jealous of you. I have my sword because—”
“Leo, Donnie hates me.” Your lip wobbled.
“As I was saying, I have my sword—”
“What am I supposed to do?!”
“Ugh.” Leo rubbed a hand down his face. “Get him flowers or somethin’. I dunno. He likes flowers. Maybe. Uh. Actually maybe not.”
That… was a great idea. But you’d have to talk to Donnie to figure that out. You steeled your nerves and pushed Leo off of you to walk to his lab.
You had to do this for the fate of your relationship. You raised your fist to knock but the door raised before you could knock.
“Just the person I was going to see!”
Donnie lifted you into his arms and you immediately melted into him. He was actually holding you. Without you asking or initiating it. Your mind almost exploded, but you wouldn’t have been able to experience this moment if it did so you held it together. Maybe he wasn’t mad after all. But it would never hurt to get him flowers in case he was. You held onto him desperately.
“Donnie…”
“You’ll never believe what I’ve been doing. So while I was trying to think of what was wrong with your phone, I read over your and April’s texts and realized you’ve been wanting to be more… ugh, touchy. It helped me realize that maybe I haven’t been as… touchy as the average boyfriend would be—”
“Donnie, what are your favorite flowers?” You sniffled, mournfully thinking of every flower shop in New York as he settled down into his chair with you in his lap. You were in his lap… You needed to get flowers pronto so this had the chance of happening again.
“—so that’s when I looked up—Wait, what? Um, sunflowers, I guess, but only because they follow the sun and you’d never think flowers would be able to—… Enough about flowers. As I was saying, that’s when I looked up the average time spent cuddling per couple in the United States of America!”
Donnie spins in his chair to slap at his keyboard. The monitor lights up from its idle darkened screen and shows you a spreadsheet filled with numbers. You lean in, squinting to try and see what in the world was going on.
“You see here—” He points to the screen, “—it says the average time spent cuddling is 30-40 minutes three or four times a week, but of course that may be pre OR post coital and who is to say if one of them is sick or not? Or what if they’re on their death bed? There are just so many possibilities! So I did some more research, looking into more scenarios and conditions, and voilá!”
“…” You pressed a hand to your head. You felt dizzy.
“Ah hem,” he cleared his throat and gestured in a grand motion to the screen again. “Voilá!”
“Don, what am I looking at?”
“Sigh.” He patted your head in pity. “This, my dear lover, is a completed spread sheet of the average time spent cuddling around the world with each possible scenario planned out and recorded. With this, we can become more powerful than the average cuddling couple! Did you know, when two people cuddle, they become more bonded and much more relaxed towards each other? It also boosts your immune system.”
You yawned.
“Don’t yawn at me! Now, do you prefer this or horizontal cuddling?” Donnie squeezed you to his chest, and you felt like your heart could burst. He reached down and pulled a lever, making the back of his chair lower dramatically fast. You almost shouted in alarm but Donnie tightened his hold so you wouldn’t be jostled too badly. “Is this what you wanted?”
“Uh, yes!” You wrapped your arms around his neck and squeezed back. You rubbed your cheek against his shoulder, your fingers indenting his skin with the tight hold you had him. You hesitated for a second. “But… if you’re uncomfortable, I get it. We can be below the average couple in cuddling, I don’t mind. Just once in a while is all I ask.”
“Well, you watch silly movies you don’t want to watch with me and my brothers every week and it makes me happy. So, I’ll cuddle with you and make you happy. That’s how a relationship works, right?”
“Since when were you all mushy and caring if people were happy or not?” You teased him, pushing back from him a little to look directly at him. “Sounds like you have a crush on me or something. Yuck.”
Donnie rolled his eyes, tilting his head back towards the ceiling as he begun to smirk. “Looks like someone doesn’t want their phone fixed after all.”
“Hey, wait! I didn’t mean it!”
ty for the ask 👍 quickest ive ever written i think
#rottmnt x reader#tmnt x reader#rottmnt x gender neutral reader#rottmnt fanfiction#donnie x reader#rise donnie x reader#rise donatello x reader
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wait a second
Kit Walker x Fem!Reader 💓
a/n: finally something new on my acc😭 i don’t like this imagine much but it’s still not bad (i hope lol)
summary: you and Kit was waiting for intimacy for too long and finally gave in 🍀
warnings: 18+ MDNI, not proofed😔 p in v, overstimulation (m receiving), whiny Kit (also SHITTY WRITING BC ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE)
(pic from pinterest)
Not a while ago you and your amazing, caring, soft, loving husband had finally married. You got money as gifts and decided to do a repair in your little house, so you had to move in the bigger house of your sister for some time, just before the repair end.
You adore your sister. Really. She always was so cute ans funny, and she always knew how to help you, and nothing changes: she’s still amazing and she still always helps. Her house is much bigger than yours with Kit, so there’s enough place for everyone. What problems can be here?
Oh, your sister is a housewife. She’s always at home. And her kids.
You and Kit held on as best you could. You both understood that you can’t have sex while you were just “visiting” the family of your sister, especially when half of it was always at home. The kids were to young for school, your sister was to busy to hang out with some of her friends even once in two weeks.
But one day, when your sister’s husband took their kids for a walk, and your sister was cooking dinner, watching TV loudly, your temper ended…
“Shhh, shhh, shhh.” Kit whispers, while his own breath hitches in his throat, as he pulls his whole length in and you squeak. You sit on top of him, your hands on his broad chest. He tries his best not to moan out loud, biting his lower lip and squeezing his eyes shut. The feeling is too overwhelming for both of you: after three weeks of no contact at all, it was like your first time together. You tilt your head downwards, trying to contain moans, but one desperate whine still falls down from your lips, and Kit quickly covers your mouth with his large hand, squeezing your cheeks as he does. This roughness from your usually sweet husband makes you even more aroused, and you start to move your hips just to make some friction, but Kit’s free hand grabs your rear to stop you. He leans in closer to your ear, his eyes closed: he breaths deeply in attempts to calm down.
“You-“ A heavy huff. “Wait, sweet one- i have to-“
You mumble something under his hand, and when his grip becomes lighter and his head weakly falls onto your shoulder, you can’t contain yourself anymore. Your core clenching around his cock desperately, aching for some movements, and it makes Kit whine as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, moaning quietly against your hot skin. He loses all his strength at this moment, and you start to bounce on him again, making your poor husband gasp in shock. This delicious feeling of his finally moving dick inside of your pussy sends a shiver down your spine, all of your moans muffling because of his grip onto your face, and it’s so. fucking. good.
“Suga’, wait a second-“ Kit literally begs, taking all his powers to stay as quiet as he could. He knows that if you continue, he’s gonna cum right now and right here, without any usually long fun. “I can’t freakin’ hold it-“
But it’s too late. You were waiting too long, and now there’s no way back: you increase the speed of your movements, gripping onto his shoulders, and your hands already start to shake because of overwhelming pleasure. Your whole body is on fire, and you feel familiar knot in your stomach starting to appear, as Kit suddenly moans loudly, completely forgetting about his words about staying quiet. He cums after only one minute of your movements, the warm sticky liquid covers your walls, and you almost roll your eyes as you missed this feeling so much. He whines, nibbling on your shoulder, as he tries to muffle his desperate noises but fails when he feels that you continue moving even after his release, milking him.
“Honey, please-“ Kit whimpers pathetically, his overstimulated but still hard cock already ached. He puts his hand away from your mouth, placing both of them on your ass, trying to slow your hips down. “Too much!”
“Kit, i’m begging you-“ You gasp, finally able to moan properly, tugging onto his soft brown hair and making him growl quietly. “I need it.” These words slip down your lips with whimper, and you ride him as if your life depends on it. He breaths heavily under you, the pain mixes with pleasure of how lovely it feels to be inside of your tight walls after all and, oh my God, to cum inside of them.
He brings his slender fingers to your clit, starting to rub on it in circles motion with his thumb, and you can swear you see stars. After a few seconds you feel the rush of heat, and your legs start to shake as you reach your peak. Your pussy clenches around Kit’s already semi-hard cock, and he moans as loud as he never has moaned, and you can’t really understand: was it the sound of pain or of satisfaction? He quickly lifts you up from him, almost throwing you onto the mattress, and collapses on top of you, his body goes almost limp. His face buried in the crook of your neck again, and his hot shaky breath hits your sweaty skin.
“I freakin’ love ya.” Kit mumbles under his breath, placing soft and tender kisses on your collarbone, and you slip your fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp in a soothing manner.
“I love you more.” You smile tiredly, kissing the top of his head.
—————————————
a/n: thx for reading ♥️
#american horror story#ahs fandom#kit walker#kit walker smut#kit walker x reader#kit walker x you#kit walker x y/n#evan peters fanfic#ahs fanfic#fanfiction#kit walker imagine#kit walker fanfic#writing#kai anderson#tate langdon
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Hiya! I read your Aaron Hotchner x reader fic 'guilt, love and other wounds' and I was so blown away you have a gift you write him so well! Then I read through the rest of what you written and I'm obsessed ~ thank you for sharing ~ I saw you reblogged some prompt list and I was hoping if you were accepting requests you could write the "Are you sniffing my hair?" Prompt for me. I'd love to see more fluff on my feed.
Moments
Aaron Hotchner x GN!reader
Request here! | Masterlist
You’ve learned to live in moments, managing to love in vignettes. It’s work, but it’s worth it.
Life continues to find new ways to keep the two of you busy beyond belief. Work, laundry, dinner, meetings, parent-teacher interviews, homework, taxes, housework, home repairs, and soccer practice fill every inch of your free time. The list stretches a mile long. It wraps up your schedules and leaves your hands tied when finding a moment alone. Tonight is the rare exception-- coincidental openings in both of your calendars. Jack is having a sleepover with a friend from school; work is quiet-- for the time being; and there are no chores worth trading for a cozy night in.
The TV is on, with the volume low. Without any lights on, the room is bathed in a soft blue glow. Your empty plates from dinner sit abandoned on the coffee table since neither of you has felt any desire to leave the other’s side. You lay across the couch cushions, Aaron’s body draped haphazardly; half beside you half on top of you. His commentary about the show you’re watching together fans warm breath across your collarbones. He punctuates the ends of his thoughts with kisses. Lips, cheek, jaw. He brushes the silent affections wherever he manages to reach when he tilts his face up towards yours.
These are the moments you wait for. His fingers trace mindless circles on your hip, while your own card through his hair and scratch gently at his scalp. It’s not often you get to see him like this. Relaxed, and nearly carefree. He deserves more tenderness. With your lips pressed to his forehead, you can smell his shampoo--yours. Eucalyptus and lavender. A soft gentle smell you’d hardly notice if you didn’t know it so well.
"Are you sniffing my hair?" he asks, pulling away to get a better look at you.
You meet his question with a shrug and a playful smile, “Maybe I was. What are you going to do about it?”
It’s easy to live in the moment when the world feels no larger than the sofa you share with your husband.
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