#I attempted to make his hat thing that I can’t remember the name of look glittery by using stippling

[cygnus-is-tired]

Orthodontist hate him, dentist fear him! It’s NIBBLY!!!

(Unlike Nibbly you aren’t a god so don’t bite hard candy, you can and will fuck up your teeth)

#fun fact about me #my mom was an orthodontist for the first like 15-16 years of my life #you would not BELIEVE how many times my cousins would be dragged to our house at all hours of the day because they did something dumb #and broke their braces #my art #doodle #hatchetfield #nibblenephim #nibbly #npmd #nerdy prudes must die #I attempted to make his hat thing that I can’t remember the name of look glittery by using stippling #and I don’t think it works like I intended but oh well #can’t do anything about it now

[tojivu]

would u do satoru who actually has six eyes with the reader scenario? it could be anything, like the reader going through his baby pictures and cooing at how cute he looked with one set of eyes open, but the other two werent. or comforting him cuz people think they're freaky. anything fluffy :D

# SIX ‣ GOJO SATORU

✰ — author’s note stop this is so cute.. i changed the prompt a bit i hope u don’t mind. hope this isn’t too long for your taste as well zzz

✰ — cw / tags satoru with literally six eyes , sfw , gn!reader , use of pet names ‘baby’ etc , briefly proof read ( i tried )

✰ — playing n side by steve lacy.

✰ — word count 1.2k

✰ — part two click here.

it was a lazy sunday morning when you decide to wake up early. it was unusual of you, because you usually woke up later than your boyfriend—but you remembered the state of your shared apartment and knew something had to be done.

it was a mess. a complete and utter disarray.

moving in week was finally done, at least technically. some of your stuff was still in cardboard boxes. you knew gojo had some unpacking to do as well, but you figured it wouldn’t hurt to help him—you knew about the long hours he endured.

you’re still groggy when you make your way down the stairs, holding onto the railing for support. you rub your eyes until the sunlight doesn’t hurt anymore—but you glance into your living room and see the piles of tiny boxes, full of trinkets from your previous house and it hurts your eyes all the same.

you yawn and sit yourself down on the couch, scissors in hand and ready to take on the workload. you meticulously cut the tape sealing a particularly damaged cardboard box, deciding you would eliminate the smaller stuff first; gojo would wake up sooner or later and you certainly weren’t going to carry the bigger boxes by yourself.

you turn the flaps over and the sunlight spilling in through the living room windows help visualise how dusty it really is—you don’t think it’s yours. the box must’ve not been opened for quite some time.

it’s a photo frame you find in the box, but there’s way too much dust for you to really see anything. you bring the frame to the kitchen, grabbing a wet rag and wiping the plastic film to the best of your ability. you think this must have been hidden from you on purpose, you’ve never seen this photo in your life—no picture of satoru escapes you, after all. he must’ve not wanted you to see it.

it’s your boyfriend as a child, at a strawberry farm. he’s wearing a sunhat and a basket of berries are being shown off to the camera; his smile undoubtedly huge, and his eyes are glistening in the sunlight the hat failed to deter—all six of them.

you’re wondering why he ever ought to hide this photo from you. you knew about his eyes, and you’ve made it clear that you loved them. though, you can’t really speculate—gojo’s told you briefly about his childhood, but not really in detail. “i didn’t really like showing them when i was young,” was all you got out of him when you asked about his middle school days.

you’re startled when you hear a yawn coming from the stairs, and you shift your gaze from the photo to gojo—adult sized gojo with only one pair of eyes open—who’s making his way towards you. quick reaction time enables you to hide the photo behind you, just as gojo enters the kitchen.

“good morning baby,” he says while rubbing his eyes. he plants a kiss on your forehead, then blinking slowly at you in an attempt to wake himself up completely. “what’re you doing up? it’s 8 a.m.”

you scoff at him, jokingly. “what, am i not allowed to wake up at 8 a.m?”

gojo lets out a chuckle, his voice still raspy. “didn’t say that.”

you smile up at your boyfriend, who’s eyes are still not fully open yet. the slits on his cheek and forehead from his other two pairs of eyes further intrigue you—perhaps, if you dig a little more… would you be able to find photos just like that one?

you feel sneaky, looking through your boyfriend’s things without his permission. of course, you couldn’t help yourself—how could you? his smile looks priceless.

and so, something in you is determined to find every single one.

your mental scheming is stopped, though, when gojo makes a loud gasping noise. you’re snapped back into reality, and you realise he can see the photo frame you’ve hidden behind your back. “y/n!”

gojo is fully awake now, his expression a mix of shock and embarrassment. “how did you find that? i swear i put all those boxes away in my office. . .”

you point a finger at him, accusingly, with your eyebrows furrowed for dramatic effect. feeling offended, you gasp as well. “so you did try to hide them from me!”

he lets a laugh slip through his lips, much too flustered that this is how you discover his childhood photos. he shakes his head, “i’m sorry, y/n. didn’t think it would matter much.”

“why did you hide them? is it because of your eyes?”

gojo nods his head, taking a closer look at his younger self. “they were a bit weird for a six year old to have, no?”

you gasp again, hurt by his statement. the first thought you had when you found the photo was how adorable his eyes were, the different tints of blue shining in the sun—and the missing teeth which were shown so proudly in his smile. how happy he must’ve been to smile like that.

“i love them, ‘toru.”

it was always heartening to hear that coming from you.

when gojo satoru first met you, he was unsure if you’d be weirded out—like how everyone else was when he was younger. he’d learned how to keep the pairs on his forehead and cheeks closed in his teenage years, so it was muscle memory by the time he knew you.

the first time you saw them was a few years ago, an unremarkable tuesday morning: at least that's what you thought, but to satoru—it was everything.

you awaken next to him, and gojo's perplexed. why you were staring at his face so intently? was his bed hair that bad?

“i didn’t know you could open all of them.”

gojo internally cursed himself, thinking it was game over—you’d probably tell him you’ve got to go and never call him back; but you did.

you called him and told him you missed him the following day. that sweet voice of yours he was so relieved to hear.

as a child, people would often call gojo strange looking—his piercing blue eyes already made him intimidating. people would barely look at him; so when there were six of them, it was even harder to make conversation. you guessed a long time ago that that was why he started wearing shades.

people could never look at him directly, but with you—it was a different problem altogether. you just couldn’t stop looking, always telling him how pretty his eyes were. he would find it hard to believe with the way he’d grown up, but it’s undeniable he feels comfortable showing it to you; sometimes feeling all right to go out without his sunglasses on.

“yeah, i know.” gojo’s smile is soft. he leans down and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his jaw on your shoulder and swaying you left to right. “you tell me that all the time.”

it’s cheesy sunday mornings like this you look forward to.

it’s been an hour since you’ve woken up and gojo insisted on helping you finish cleaning—it’s pointless, though: because you two end up on the couch, looking at childhood photos of yourselves—with the occasional embarrassing story time.

at the end of the day, nothing is clean and you two are still on the couch: except gojo is snoring and you’re on top of him with your face buried in his chest, trying to fall asleep despite the inconsiderate noise—photo albums sprawled out on the coffee table.

211023 — this is so bad i’m sorry… TT

#✦ specially made #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo imagine #gojo headcanons #jjk ff #jjk headcanons #jjk x reader fluff #gojo jjk #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n

[anystalker707]

Jealous? Me?

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x [gender-neutral, afab] Reader Kinktober prompt: Jealous sex Tags: Transmasc friendly / Dom-Sub undertones / Penetration / Strap game / Bottom law !

KINKTOBER LIST MASTERLIST

          You sat on the bed in the cabin, with your back against the wall, messing with a paper you’d found on the bedside table. It had nothing important nor special, but anything counted if there wasn’t an opening for a talk. He noticed it, certainly, Law was a smart guy, though he was also awful at talking about anything that involved feelings, whether they were his or not. Obviously, he put some effort into it when it came to you, and it still wasn’t any easier.

Law tried not to look a lot at you. He glanced around the cabin, restless, trying to find something to do after placing his sword down and leaving his hat on the desk. The desk, bedside table, adjusting the poster on the wall. None of it really worked. Eventually, he slowly let out a breath and stripped down to his boxer shorts to get ready for bed and sat down next to you. As much as he tried to rethink every single little thing he’d done that day, Law just couldn’t figure out what exactly made you act like that. It was a normal day at an island, restocking and chilling around a little. He had even been around you for most of the time.

Okay. There needed to be a first step, right? Law rested his head on your shoulder—or at least tried to, meeting the mattress instead. “Babe,” he sighed, bottom lip sticking out a little, as he crossed his arms. No answer. He raised his eyebrows a little, thinking for a moment. “Come on.”

“I can’t believe this still happens,” you sighed as you put the paper away and looked at Law. “Every single time, you’re always letting someone hit on you. Last time, it was that guy at the open market when we were buying food, but today, it was that woman at the docks. Like, I know you don’t flirt back or even think about anyone else, but can’t you at least push them away? It was obnoxious watching her shove her tits into your face while you just sat there. Are you dead or something?”

Well, Law did seem dead, to some degree. You couldn’t help but find it a little funny when he looked up at you with his droopy eyes, dark circles under them—your face didn’t mirror your thoughts, though.

“I’m sorry.” Law pressed his lips together. “You know that I just don’t care. It’s not like they know me or they’re going to kiss me or anything. Does it even matter?”

You narrowed your eyes at Law; he furrowed his eyebrows, looking up for a moment before he sat up, slowly exhaling. Despite your attempts to pull away, he still wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on your shoulder.

“What I’m trying to say is that they’re unimportant. I only have eyes for you,” he mumbled, kissing your shoulder.

“At least be a little more considerate because I hate watching this happen,” you sighed, rolling the paper up to smack Law’s head then put it away again.

“Ouch,” he groaned, scrunching his nose. “You know you’re the only one who gets to touch me, to kiss me, to see my bed hair, to see me all skrunkly whenever sleep-deprived… The only one who gets cuddles, love, this body, kisses,” he continued listing, observing your face carefully—his heart fluttered at the smallest sign of a smile on your face. “But I will try to be more attentive about it. For you, babe.”

A sigh escaped your lips, and Law felt your shoulder relaxing under his head. “Okay.” You nodded, looking at him. “But I still expect you to make up for it. Come on, Law.” The fact you said his name instead of a pet name made him look at you again, pausing as he met your gaze. “Did you even remember my existence after that woman in the docks started flirting with you? I bet all you think about now are her tits, with the way she kept shoving it in your face. You barely talked to me after that. You only approached me now, and…”

“Stop being so dramatic!” Law groaned as he threw a leg over and straddled your lap, facing you. “You know how bad I am with this stuff, and you kept avoiding me!” His palms pressed both of your cheeks together as he looked at you in the eyes. “What was I supposed to do, hm? I was thinking about you all the time!”

You crossed your arms over your chest with a scoff. “Untrue.”

Law’s eyebrows knitted together, and he pouted again. “I only have eyes for you. I literally have a tattoo with your name, pictures of you everywhere, I take you everywhere. What else do you need?” He wrapped his arms around your neck, hugging you close, and you wanted to laugh at his growing desperation.

Of course, he loved you. Protecting you was always Law’s first reaction whenever some danger approached, and he needed to spend at least a certain amount of time with you during the day, or else he’d get extremely clingy. Not to mention the small things he did, like making sure you were always eating properly or drinking enough water, always knowing when you needed hugs or space.

“You’re so fake!” You clicked your tongue, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing his collarbone—his hands rested on your back with the change. “You don’t even like me, Trafalgar, you just use me because there’s no one else for you in the sub!”

Law felt like dying. He knew it was playful banter, but there was a bottom of truth, and he didn’t know what to do right now to get that off your mind. Whatever he had to say turned into a gasp once you started nipping on his collarbones instead of just kissing, also making your way up his neck. A soft groan escaped his lips as he leaned his head back, and the new kisses up his throat made him groan again.

“Goddammit, (y/n),” he sighed.

The soft touches on his back made Law shiver, feeling your fingers trace down his spine gently, eventually slipping into his boxers—he swallowed dryly as he kept still, despite the frustration once your hand pulled away.

“I hate you.” Law rubbed the back of your neck, humming at how your lips sucked a mark into the side of his neck.

“I know,” you chuckled as you leaned back and looked at him. “If you didn’t hate me, you wouldn’t be letting anyone else hit on you like that!”

Law’s eyes widened as he glared at you, clicking his tongue. That was getting ridiculous. “I’m yours,” he said with a nod. “I’m all yours. Only yours. Your property, your boyfriend, your girlfriend, and whatever else you want.” His face fell as you chuckled more, his cheeks burning in embarrassment. You were insufferable, but he loved you so much it hurt.

“You’re so cute when you’re desperate like that,” you chuckled, but you were shut up by a kiss this time. Despite the initial lack of reaction, you slowly kissed Law back.

The soft kisses started gaining urgency in no time—Law’s teeth tugged on your lips before he deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth at the first opportunity you got. Fuck, it made you groan. Your hands tightened around his waist, and Law finally felt like he was getting somewhere.

“Stop being so annoying,” Law breathed against your lips. “You’re lucky that I love you.”

You eyed him with a smirk, shaking your head a little. “Do you, though?” Before there was any interruption, you shifted your positions, making Law fall back on the mattress. “Whatever. I think it’s about time I give you a little reminder about who you belong to.”

Law perked up a little at the same time his cheeks burned, and he had to close his eyes for a moment. “I’m not against that.”

“Of course you aren’t.”

It didn’t take long for you to undress, get the box from the wardrobe, and get the strap-on ready, but it felt like an eternity for Law as he buried his face into the pillow he hugged, also undressed. He was thankful you couldn’t see his cock under him because he was afraid he’d started leaking already just from the pressure of the occasion.

The mattress shifting around him brought Law back to reality. He lifted his head as he felt you straddle the back of his thighs, and the soft kisses pressed between his shoulder blades eased part of the anxiety. With a soft hum, he closed his eyes and rested his head against the pillow again, sideways this time. He loved the way you touched him, so careful and loving. Your fingertips traced the tattoos on his back, going down to his tramp stamp—your thumbs pressed to it so nicely, rubbing circles into the skin. He moaned at something as simple as that.

“Stretch?” You asked, receiving a hum of denial in response. It rushed things a little.

The lube was cold, eventually warming up as you spread it evenly over your fingers. Your thumb held Law’s ass cheek to the side and exposed his waiting hole; he gasped, tensing up under you once two of your fingers pressed to his entrance. In soft circles, they traced his hole, spreading the lube before starting to push in. Law let out a sound that was muffled against the pillow, clenching tightly.

You didn’t take long—since Law didn’t need you to stretch him first, you didn’t bother lingering around sensitive spots or curling your fingers up inside him, only spreading the lube generously. The strap’s dildo was next.

Law visibly tensed up a little as he felt you shifting, but he didn’t move. A knee sank into the bed beside each of Law’s thighs, and there was an elbow by his side before he felt the toy press to his entrance. He moaned, pressing his eyes shut as he felt your cock slowly push in, stretching him so nicely as his walls accommodated around it, and his back arched a little bit once he felt it start pressing to his sensitive spots. It felt so good.

“Fuck,” you whispered, letting your other elbow sink into the bed as well, now that you didn’t need to guide the toy into him anymore. Your chest pressed to Law’s back, feeling it rise with his breathing, which easily fell out of pace as you started moving your hips.

The first thrust was shallow, barely having anything moving, but it helped you adjust your position to find enough support to make things easier. Law hissed as he felt you slowly build a pace, his fingers wrapping around the pillow as his cock twitched between him and the mattress. He could relax according to how his body got used to the new pleasure, burying the lower half of his face into the pillow, muffling his moans.

“Still thinking about someone else?” You breathed into Law’s ear, your voice carrying that bitter tone that agonized him so fucking much. “Or did you remember who’s your actual partner, hm?” A gasp came from Law as your hips snapped particularly sharply, pressing to a sensitive spot inside him. “You must like making me jealous,” you sighed.

His will to protest was practically useless—whatever you did to him, it took away Law’s capability of forming a proper train of thought, only allowing him to focus on how good you made him feel. The best he could do was groan in a tone that mixed pleasure and complaint, and he was sure it only amused you.

A trail of kisses was left along Law’s shoulder, sometimes interrupted by soft nipping. Your lips felt so nice, hot against his skin, adding to the pleasure that only you could ever give him. The thrusts became a little more intense, not exactly faster, as you bit down on his shoulder; Law arched his back with it, moaning.

You reached deep inside him, making him feel so deliciously full, so good. His fingers sank into the pillow again, holding it tightly to himself.

It took you a while, slowly removing an elbow from the mattress and slowly stabilizing yourself so that you could reach a hand up to Law’s face. He was a little confused but gasped at feeling your fingers pushing into his mouth, two of them, forcing their way in as your palm pressed to his cheek. He was forced to stop burying his face into the soft fabric of the pillow, letting his moans shamefully fill the room along with your unsteady breathing and the occasional squelching sound.

“Ahhh,” Law groaned, unable to say anything even if he wanted to. Drool started running down the corner of his mouth, and he wanted to disappear for a moment—he felt embarrassed at the same time he felt stupidly good.

Maybe he lost track of time for a moment. His mind started getting fuzzier at some point, the corners of his vision blackening out, his cock aching as it throbbed, all somehow turning him on even more. Reality came back to him with the way you groaned, shifting a little behind him, and his tongue was already hanging out of his mouth at this point.

You were probably aware of how it made him feel and felt proud of it. Your thrusts kept going, fucking Law so nicely, keeping that angle that made his back arch more and his moans grow a pitch higher.

“What’s it?” You whispered, lips grazing the shell of his ear. Hell, the way you regretted not getting a vibrator or something inside yourself before. He was such a mess under you… It made you feel so hot, unfortunately unattended; the eventual friction of the back of the strap-on against you didn’t even count.

“I hope the next time someone is hitting on you, you actually remember how nice I fuck you. Maybe that’ll help instead,” you said sharply.

Law would never admit it, but he loved it when you’d change roles with him and take charge like that, muttering loving or cruel words to him, riding or fucking him—he was a sucker for it. He knew some things that would often trigger this change, and one of them was jealousy. No, he never made you jealous on purpose, but whenever he noticed your bad mood towards him was due to jealousy, his cock already throbbed in his pants.

The moans that slipped from Law’s lips grew each time louder according to how his orgasm approached, forming that familiar tingling sensation in the base of his stomach. His mouth ached a little from the way your fingers tugged on it, but maybe he enjoyed pain.

Law’s cum made a hot and sticky mess that’d require a change of bedsheets later, shot between himself and the mattress as he kept being fucked through his high, and even after. He whimpered, gasping for air at the edge of overstimulation that was quickly replaced by the awful feeling of nothingness at the same time your hand let go of him. He clenched around nothing as you pulled your cock out of him, arching his back then curling up a little while whimpering more. Too much to process. You were making him go crazy.

“Fuck,” you whispered, pulling back to take the strap off, no matter how messy it was. “My time now, right?” You kissed the back of Law’s neck and pressed a hand to his back. “I hope you didn’t forget me again.”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

#one piece #trafalgar law #x reader #x female reader #x male reader #gender neutral #law x reader #law x male reader #one piece x reader #imagine #oneshot #scenario #fan fic #fan fiction

[meetmyothersouls]

why do I feel the need of having a timmy angst after his coachella makeout???? 😭🥺🥲 why am I here asking this to you for writing one????

I’ve gotten tons of cheating Tim requests and the Coachella kiss, so I’m combining them into one right here. Hope you enjoy!

A Moment of Weakness

Warnings: angst, cheating, fluff

“Y/n! I’m home, baby!” Timothee called from the front door. You were still in your bedroom and had been preparing for this moment since the night before, when you found out your “boyfriend” was a lying, cheating son of a bitch. You gathered the picture you printed online and your phone and met him at the front door.

He was beaming, so happy to see you and the sight of it made you want to cry. Normally, you’d run and throw yourself into his arms, covering every inch of visible skin in kisses. He ruined that.

Timothee dropped his bags and held his arms out for you. Instead of embracing him, you shoved the picture into his chest, he stumbled back a little bit and wore a shocked and confused expression. 

“What is this?” Timothee asked. 

“Look at it and you tell me,” your voice shook but you had to stay strong. 

He squinted, studying the photo. It was printed form your phone and the quality was horrendous and blurry. Still, anyone with eyes could tell it was a picture of two people kissing, their bodies close together. 

“You don’t think this is me, do you?” Timothee turned the photo to you. 

“Timothee. It is you. That’s your fucking clothes, your hat. That man has the same stature as you. You can even see your stupid fucking rings shining from flash.” 

“That’s not me I don’t remember it.” He sounded confident, but so were you.

“Maybe this will jog your memory.” You shoved your phone in his face, the video of him and the woman making out already playing. Like the photo, it was blurry and taken from far away. But it was him. 

He took your phone, playing the video again, “Y/n...I...I don’t remember this.” 

You pushed him and his back hit the door, “that’s fucking worse, Timothee. At least fucking own it. What the fuck is wrong with you!?” 

You ran your fingers through your hair, shoving his hand off of your shoulder as he attempted to console you, “wait, it gets better.” You snatched your phone from Timothee’s hands, switching the tab to another article you had pulled up and prepared for him. An article featuring the woman from the video, toying with the fact that she kissed Timothee Chalamet. 

Timothee read the article, his eyes rapidly scanning your phone. You snatched it form him, too annoyed and hurt to care if he read the whole thing or not. Again, he tried to embrace you, and you knew if he did, you’d melt into a puddle of tears. You didn’t want him breaking you more than he already had. 

“Y/n-” 

“No, don’t say my name. I am so embarrassed! Do you know how many people have texted me about this, called me about this, do you know how many articles that have already been published talking about you cheating on me?! I can’t believe you, Timothee.” 

You started toward your bedroom, Timothee cut your path off, standing in front of you blocking you from traveling any further. His long arms touched either side of the wall in the hallway, “Listen, I had a lot to drink and....a lot to smoke that night-”

“Oh god,” you shook your head, turning back in the other direction, not bothering to hide your disgusted tone. Timothee intercepted, somehow managing to get in front of you again. 

“Listen to me!” He yelled. 

You stood there, eyes shaking with sadness and hurt, your heart was broken, and you were quite sure he could see it through your eyes. You were quiet, waiting for him to speak. 

“It was a moment of weakness,” even as he cried, he was beautiful, and that pissed you off even more. “I wasn’t in the right mind; I was not my self right there. That is me, but it is not me. Please believe me. I love you.” 

Tears spilled down your cheeks and you wanted him to kiss each one away. You wanted him to love you, and you wanted to love him and forget. But you wouldn’t be able to, not for a long time. 

“I need to not be around you for a while,” you finally said, “I’m going to stay with a friend, do you think you can manage to keep your hands and your mouth to yourself while I’m away?” 

“Yes,” Timothee answered, defeated. 

He dropped an arm, letting you pass. You had already packed a bag, knowing you would want to be away from him after you confronted him. You grabbed it hand headed for the door, but before walking out, you turned to him. 

“You know what makes it even worse?” 

Timothee turned to look at you, his eyes already swelling from the abundance of tears he’d produced. 

“A friend of mine asked me how I was so comfortable with you being away for weeks at a time. I told her that it was because I trusted you and I loved you, and I’ll be damned if you didn’t play me for a fool.” 

You shut the door and you didn’t speak to him for a week. During your time away, you reflected on your relationship with Timothee. He loved you and even though he fucked up, you loved him. Ultimately, you believed him. You believed that he was drunk, and he always smoked around his friends, he was under the influence and even though you were still pissed at him, and would be for a long time, you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

Timothee was asleep on the couch when you walked back into the apartment. You dropped your bag and made your way to him, smiling as you realized he was covered with your favorite blanket and his head was resting on your pillow. You climbed over him, snuggling yourself in between the back of the couch and Timothee’s side. He stirred at the movement, humming lightly in his sleep, before he realized that it was you who disturbed him. His arms wrapped around your body firmly, pulling you on top of him. 

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” his voice was laced with sleep and cracked a little as he talked. 

“I decided to believe you,” you lifted your head a little to meet his eyes while you rested on his chest. “And I love you.”

“You don’t trust me anymore though.” He said into your hair, “I don’t blame you.  I hate myself for what I did, for what it did to you.” 

“It’s going to take a while for me to fully get over this, but I know you’ll earn it back.” 

“I don’t deserve you.” 

You sat up, straddling his waist, wondering what his thoughts had been like while you were gone. You were harsh, but you didn’t regret it, he needed to hear how you felt and you needed him to understand the position he put you in, the heartache he caused. 

“Don’t say that.” You leaned down to press your lips against his, lingering slightly before pulling away. 

“It’s true, and if you’re still allowing me in your life then I’m going to spend the rest of mine making this up to you. You are the only one I want. The only one that matters, the only one I’ll ever love. I am so sorry I hurt you.”

And that was all you needed to hear to forgive him.

Tags: @imnotoverlyobsessive @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @chicchanelcigs @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @timotheeisthelomll @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @louievr @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @lilitheal

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #writing #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet imagine #timmy chalamet #fluff #angst

[livingdeadmlm]

plsssss any Shane (SDV) content idc if it's spicey, wholesome, edgy, all of the above I need content for himmm. <3 -🫐

Shane x M!Reader

TUMBLR ALMOST DIDN'T LET ME POST THIS BC IT WAS TOO LONG ACK BUT I LOVE SHANE SO MUCH HIS CHARACTER IS AMAZING anyway this is suggestive I got carried away

This morning he woke up before you and made himself some coffee to enjoy some time on the porch

After he finishes his cup of coffee he decides to do some chores

Watering some crops and feeding the many chickens you have running around, as well as the cows, he’ll even pick some fruit or vegetables to bring back to the house for dinner/lunch that day

Sporting a shirt he stole from you at the start of the relationship, his blue zip-up sweater, a pair of sweat shorts, and slippers.

He picked up a basket you found in the many old boxes left by your grandfather

As he grabbed a few oranges from the many trees you had he saw you step out onto the porch

You held a confused look on your face as you scanned the area

Finally, your eyes caught sight of your husband nearby the apple trees now

You ran over calling his name

“Shane! Good morning honey, I was worried when I woke up and you weren’t there.” You laughed as you caught your breath

He adjusted the basket adding a bright green apple to the bunch

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize how long I was out here for.”

You stepped forward the dirt crunching under your shoes your sun hat-tipping to the side

“Aw, it’s fine darling I left you some pancakes and eggs on the table if you want some.”

You admired his face which was decorated by specks of the gentle early morning sun that poked through the tree leaves

“Oh thank you! I’ll eat it when I’m done out here, what do you have planned for the day?”

You switched weight to your opposite foot

“Well, I’m going to head to the mines and get some stone”

Shane hummed, “okay well please be safe okay? I don’t want Harvey calling me that you’re in his office again at 2 AM.”

You laughed “I’ll try.” Your hands rested against his hips

“And what do you have planned for the day?”

He squirmed slightly under your touch attempting to remember just what he has planned

“Oh well, um I wanted to pick a few more oranges so we can have fresh juice tomorrow and then I, heh I wanted to start on lunch for myself I’ll probably just make something small..”

the only thing he felt was your cold calloused hands slipping under his shirt softly caressing his plush hips

“Then I uhh wanted to get sEe robin about expanding the chicken coops! Cause a few babies are ready to hatch soon.”

His voice shook as your hands continued to rub against the soft skin on his sides going slightly higher and higher over time

The calm smile you had on your face made him feel more flushed

You leaned down and peppered kisses trailing down from his jaw to his neck

“And I wanted to have dinner at about, oh god!”

He gasped as the previously soft kisses turned into bites and you sucking at the skin

“Hmm sorry… I was thinking we could hAve stew? I know the potatoes are ready I wanna, god, use those soon!”

Your hat was completely off your head hanging from the string around your neck. his hands reached up to your hair, fingers getting tangled between your locks pulling you closer

His legs felt like they were going to give out on him. The grabbing and the hickies you were leaving on his neck made his vision blur

In a haze, he continued where he left off

“I was thinking mmm starting dinner at 7 or 8?” Your head pulled away from his neck, which caused him to let out a small whine at the loss of contact

Your hands found their place back onto his hips, “I’ll be home by 6 then okay?”

“Do you have to go? I mean the mines aren’t going anywhere! We could go back inside and um continue?”

You chuckled and briefly pressed your forehead to his, “while that sounds amazing and it’s very tempting, to stay and eat you up. Unfortunately, Clint needs about 100 stones for some project and I can’t go back on my commitments.” Your voice slightly dropped, Clint was far from your favorite person in the village but you made a promise

Shane groaned at the mention of Clint.

“Ugh, why can’t he get them himself? Doesn’t he sell stones anyway?” 

“I know you don’t like him but I told him I would by Thursday I promise it’ll be quick and I’ll be right home!”

You finally placed a kiss on his lips that he wish lasted longer

“Alrighty, I’ll hold you to that okay? Be safe in the mines!” While his voice was firm he still had a smile on his face

Your hands let go of his waist as you promised to be safe.

He waved you bye and now he was left to calm down and go about his day normally

What a start to the day huh?

#shane x male reader #stardew valley #stardew valley x male reader #shane SDV x male reader

[madderot]

Confession.

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned. It has been– many years since my last confession.”

It didn’t feel right. It never had, but especially now, he was almost at a loss for words. Leaned back against the wall of the confessional, hat resting in his lap, he stared up at the low ceiling of the claustrophobic box, trying to choose his words carefully.

“I’m a liar, father. Don’t remember the last time I even bothered tellin’ no one the full truth.”

“Why’s that, my son?” The priest was calm, the easy going demeanor making the outlaw squirm. He’d bet he’d heard that kind of confession countless times before, and the casual nature of the inquiry made him uneasy, knowing he had much worse to say beyond this sin.

“I- I feel like I got so much t’ hide. Ain’t never felt like I been accepted for who I am. My daddy didn’t want me, my mama took her life t’ get away from me-” He knew that last part wasn’t necessarily true- His mother had been a troubled woman, but that hadn’t made it any easier to find her body at eight years old. “There are jus’ some things I can’t accept about myself. So why would anyone else? I was born cursed, ain’t no way ‘round it.”

He heard the priest shift and take pause as he let out a slow sigh in an attempt to calm himself. “I mean, father, I… Fuck- sorry- I was born a woman, and it just ain’t right. I’ve never been- never wanted t’ be a woman. I’ve always been a man. N’ if anyone finds out-” He had to cut himself off with a sharp inhale, tapping his foot restlessly.

“I understand.” The priest broke the silence, skipping passing further judgement for the moment.

The silence lingered for just a short moment after that, before he felt like he could speak again without breaking down.

“I’m a bad man, father. I’ve lost my faith over th’ years, always feelin’ like this sufferin’ never ends. I’ve thrown out my morals jus’ t’ make a livin’. They tell stories ‘bout me in some towns. A man in red, takin’ bounties, killin’ in th’ name of money.” Somehow, this was easier to talk about than the lesser sins he’d started with. “Not cuz’ i wanna, but I gotta. M’ useless on a ranch, can’t settle down n’ start nothin’ on my own. Can’t marry, can’t have kids, can’t even stay in one place too long.” The dark ceiling was beginning to look too familiar, and he was itching to get out. “I’ll leave here today n’ go right back t’ pushin’ coke n’ killin’ for cash, n’ th’ only thing I’ll be prayin’ for is that I’ll never see ya’ again.”

The silence was deafening. After a moment of lingering on it, he set his hat aside and buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry for these, and all my sins.” He finished out his confession into his hands, words muffled for the priest on the other side of the thin curtained wall.

“Well, my son,” The man started after leaving him to linger in his thoughts for just a moment too long. “It sounds like you know better. You’ve strayed from the light of the Lord, and you’re sick of the darkness.” He remained silent though the father’s words, hands coming to rest on his thighs. “There’s always hope, my child. You can choose to repent.”

The thought of redemption made him want to scream. There was nothing to make up for what he’d done, and if there was a hell, he was certain he’d be there sooner, rather than later.

“Pray, and do good deeds. You can’t undo what you’ve done, but you can strive to be a better person.”

He continued to sit in silence, fingers digging hard into his jeans. After what felt like an eternity but could only have been a few seconds, he cleared his throat softly, nodding solemnly to himself. “Yes, father…” Though he was sure they both knew he wasn’t going to change any time soon.

“My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and…” He was surprised he remembered those closing words, the prayer coming easy to him even after over a decade of absence from the church. “In his name, my God, have mercy.” His fingertips came up to his forehead, crossing down to his chest and across to each of his shoulders, and he reached for his hat once more.

“Amen.”

#drabble tag #suicide mention / #briefly #no im not proofreading <3

[riality-check]

even more bootlegging, featuring our lovely sinclair siblings! part 1 and part 2, in case you missed them!

“Anything fun today?” Lucas asks, leaning over the desk.

There’s a bang from underneath the desk so hard it jolts the whole thing, causing a mug full of pencils to fall over.

“Damn,” a voice swears, and as Lucas cleans up the scattered pencils, Jonathan peeks over the desk, rubbing the back of his head.

“Sorry,” Lucas says, setting the mug upright.

“Don’t be,” Jonathan says, setting a notebook down amidst the clutter of papers on his desk. “You just startled me is all.”

Jonathan is easily startled. Lucas picked up on that the second he met him, months ago when they were investigating the same lead. Jonathan Byers is easily startled, quietly observant, and largely uninteresting, save for the fact that every time a car outside the newspaper office backfires, his hand twitches toward his hip.

That alone makes him very interesting, but Lucas isn’t paid to psychoanalyze him. He’s just a friend, though that doesn’t exempt him from Lucas’s constant reading. He does that to everyone. It’s kind of his thing.

“Sorry,” he says again, and, predictably, Jonathan waves him off. “Anything of interest today?”

It’s part of the deal they struck after the first time they met. They exchange leads, seeing if what they’re looking into that week has any connection. Jonathan gets the public stuff or anything Lucas’s clients want to make public, and Lucas gets anything that Jonathan can’t publish.

It’s probably a bad business strategy to share information with an investigative reporter, but Lucas is one person on a team of two. Sometimes, they need all the help they can get.

“You first,” Jonathan says.

“Haven’t got anything,” Lucas says honestly. “Just a couple of missing persons cases, same two I told you about last time.”

“No progress?”

“We’re getting there. If there’s anything concrete, I’ll let you know.”

Jonathan nods. “I got a missing person today.”

Lucas leans further on the desk, careful not to crush any of the papers. “Really?”

Jonathan nods again and rifles through a stack of yellow sheets to his left. “Yup. Brother, dad, relative, I don’t remember, came in and filed a tip. I thought it was weird he didn’t go to the cops.”

“Lots of people would rather not go to the cops,” Lucas says. It’s kind of the whole reason he and Erica are still afloat. Lots of people don’t want to talk to cops - not that he blames them at all - so they pay the Sinclairs to investigate instead.

“Yeah, but he looked like someone who would,” Jonathan says, finally taking out a sheet of paper. “White, well off but not too well off. Perfectly average citizen.”

He hands Lucas the sheet, and he takes it.

“Maxine Hargrove,” he reads.

“Yup. And the guy who came in was…”

Lucas scans down the bottom of the page and finds nothing. “A mystery.”

Jonathan takes the paper back. “I knew I should have had coffee this morning. Damn. I can’t remember his name, but I can tell you he was armed.”

“Armed?”

“Yep. I saw the gun in his coat.”

That’s another thing that’s interesting about Jonathan. He always makes a note of stuff like that: if people are armed, what they’re wearing. He always scans a room for the exits and sits with his back to the wall.

He’d make a great private investigator, in Lucas’s opinion. He has half a mind to talk to Erica about it.

He hums instead and takes the sheet back to finish reading it.

Maxine Hargrove. 18. White. Long red hair, blue eyes. 5’3”. 110 pounds. Last wearing a long lilac dress and matching hat. Last seen-

“This says she was last seen a week ago,” Lucas says.

“Yup,” Jonathan says, writing something down on one of the papers covering his desk.

“Why wait that long?” Lucas asks.

“Guy mentioned some defiance issues, previous runaway attempts,” Jonathan says without looking up.

“She’s an adult. No one can make her go back if she doesn’t want to.”

Jonathan shrugs. “Hey, you asked for interesting. Unless you want to hear about the latest in the society pages-”

“No, thanks.”

“Then that’s all I’ve got.”

Lucas tucks the paper into the inside pocket of his gray suit jacket. “I’ll see what I can find.”

“Thanks,” Jonathan says. He stands and holds his hand out to shake, which Lucas does.

“See you next week.”

Jonathan nods. “Say hi to Erica for me.”

“Always do,” Lucas says. “By the way, she says you should cut your hair. It’s getting long, and it makes you look like a mop.”

Jonathan snorts.

“Her words, not mine,” Lucas says.

“I didn’t doubt it. See you next week,” Jonathan says.

Lucas grins and walks out of the newspaper office and toward his own, only a few blocks south.

Along the way, he thinks of the oddities in that tip. The vague description. The waiting. The lack of a signature. It’s all strange, but he has actual, paying clients to worry about, as Erica would put it, and they need their help to-

Find people.

Huh. That’s a pattern. Lucas’s brain likes patterns.

He swings open the door to his office, wincing at the volume of the bell attached to it.

“Where have you been?” Erica calls from the back room.

“Lunch, and then with Jonathan,” Lucas calls back. “It’s Friday.”

“Well, while you were out,” Erica says, coming through the door to the front room with three notebooks in her arms, “five people called.”

“Five? That’s-”

“-the most we’ve gotten in one day, I know. I can count,” Erica says, setting the notebooks down on the receptionist’s - not that they have one - desk and brushing her hair out of her face. “And guess what?”

“What?”

“You’re not even gonna guess?”

“Just tell me.”

“You’re no fun,” Erica says, rolling her eyes. “They’re all missing persons.”

“All of them?”

“Did you not hear what I just said?”

It’s times like these when Lucas feels like he’s five years old again and wants to tug on Erica’s pigtails.

“So we went from two cases to eight in one day?”

“Eight?” Erica asks. “Two plus five is seven, stu-”

Lucas pulls the sheet of paper out of his jacket pocket. “Eight.”

Before he can say anything else, Erica snatches it out of his hand.

He sighs and shrugs off his coat to put on the coat rack by the door while she reads it.

“Rude,” he says, and she holds a hand up to shush him as she reads.

“She’s an outlier,” Erica says, shoving the sheet back at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” she says, opening up the first notebook.

“Do you feel like elaborating?” Lucas asks, trying to read her awful handwriting.

“Give me a second, will you?” she snaps. “All the other cases have been white men, late twenties, early thirties. Maxine here doesn’t fit the pattern.”

“That age range… and who’s looking for them?”

“Girlfriends and wives. No other family,” Erica says. “I’m betting they’re-”

“Bootleggers,” Lucas finishes. “Or something related.”

“You stole my thunder,” Erica complains.

“Talk faster.”

Erica sticks her tongue out at him. God, it really is like they’re toddlers again.

“You think it’s got anything to do with Steve’s-”

“No,” Erica says instantly.

It’s somewhat of an open secret. Steve’s a family friend, a little closer to Erica than to Lucas, and all of them know where he goes on Friday nights.

Lucas doesn’t care. He’s honestly surprised the country has stayed dry - at least on paper - for as long as it has. 

But he isn’t going to snitch. He and Erica aren’t the law. That’s the whole point of Sinclair & Sinclair, Private Investigators.

So, it doesn’t matter. So long as Steve’s gin joint friends aren’t involved with their current case, Lucas can turn a blind eye and feel just fine about it.

“That was quick,” Lucas says.

“Steve has said over and over that Joyce wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Erica says like she’s said the same thing over and over. Maybe she has. Lucas tunes her out quite a bit.

“And you trust that?”

“I trust Steve with my life,” Erica says, and Lucas can’t really disagree with that.

Still, it’s worth looking into. Lucas will compare leads with Jonathan next week, see if he knows anything about a Joyce and a speakeasy below the diner on Cornwallis.

For now, he has to focus on following the leads they do have, and he lets Erica fill him in on what she has so far. While he does that, he lets his mind wander to their outlier.

Maxine. She might not be connected to any of this, but Lucas can’t help but think of her. The city isn’t safe for anyone, nevermind a girl on her own. Whether she’s missing or ran away, it still isn’t safe.

“Stop thinking about your charity case,” Erica says before she starts reading from her notes again.

Just one of the many perks of working with his sister: they’re in sync when they remember to shut their mouths and focus.

part 4

#ria writes #bootleggers baby #jonathan byers #lucas sinclair #erica sinclair #stranger things #st #stranger things ficlet #st ficlet

[choco-cherry-chunk]

Will you write link stuff for your characters? Maybe that would help with asks

I assume you mean kink stuff? If so, absolutely! I’ve posted my own “tier list” thing about what I’m into in relation to this kind of kink and I’ll happily hit whatever within that list for any of my OCs and even create characters with other users if desired.

And if you’re interested too, I’ll try to write some here for one of them? You can look them up by name on my blog if interested.

Consider Cricket being kind of distracted while perfecting their next magic performance. Theyre bumbling some of their tricks; pulling crystals out of their hat when they meant to get doves, making more things appear when one thing is meant to disappear, their magic rings shrinking around their wrists instead of growing into hula hoops. They’re getting frustrated by the time Maurice offers to join in and help. He’s used to Cricket taking the lead with these things, but he doesn’t mind being a little bossy. He tells his partner that maybe the next trick should be the Aztec Lady or the Radium Girl, some kind of escapism trick. He figures that if it works, Cricket will feel more confident and they’ll be able to continue with the rest of the show’s plan. Cricket elects for one of the trick boxes, make Maurice disappear from the enormous box and reappear in the rafters of their stage, dangling on bars and strings.

Maurice gets into the box, waving tantalizingly before Cricket clicks the lid shut. Maurice can hear Cricket go through the usual spiel regarding the trick and he prepares for them to say the magic words that would indicate his movement to slip out of the box. Except when he hears them, he can’t get the back of the box open. He keeps trying to quietly tap at it with his foot, open the latch, and then slip through the floor. And while he’s fussing with it, he becomes vaguely aware of a different, familiar sensation.

A tingling in his middle. He’d described it at soda carbonation, just poured into a glass. Fizzling and popping somewhere deep inside, growing with time. The sensation, more intense, moving throughout his torso. Maurice drops a hand to his side and immediately can feel his flesh expanding under the rainbow fabric of his usual attire. Merde, Fancy Feet must have mixed up the trick again. He kept kicking at the trick door, trying to get it open as subtly as possible. He knew the trick Cricket was actually enacting well. His stomach swelled out further, becoming a proper belly in seconds. The usually billowed fabric of his top and pants didn’t hide the change for long, quick to hold onto his bloat. Soon, he could feel his hips widen, either side eventually brushing against either side of the box.

Cursing under his breath, Maurice starts to call out to Cricket for help, only to remember the next step in their act. Their little song-and-dance their so with the audience, their attempt to improv with those watching. Even with those big ass ears, there was no way they were paying attention. By the time he stopped shouting, Maurice looked down to see his tummy had swollen out to at least a full-term pregnancy. He could feel the subtlest of movements beneath his skin, familiar flutters that only drew his attention long enough for him to miss the moment his top and trousers separated. His watermelon-sized belly peeled out between the bright rainbow stripes, a bright white cloud of amidst the colors. It was just the slightly tinge of pink as he swelled, warm in the enclosed space.

Maurice continued his efforts to click open the back of the box with his heel, but it seemed to do little and even grew harder as the seconds ticked by. His back side pressed but against the handle for the box’s exit route, his ass slowly growing along with him. He tried to lean against the door, figuring the added weight would at least help to push it open, but the action just served to rub the sides of his corpulent growth against the walls. He watched as his stomach continued to grow, his innie popping into a perfectly poked out navel just before it swelled up enough to poke into the front of the box. The marionette gasped, not entirely out of concern; the sensation of his bloated body squashing against yet another wall sent shivers through him. He dropped his arms from the walls and that they had nowhere to go except to sit awkwardly on the crest of his stomach. He pulled at his top to give his middle more room to breathe. The box around him creaked, the sound barely audible over the gurgling of his belly, it’s size now close to that of being overdue with triplets. He rubbed his gloved hands over the paper white skin, the soft fabric tickling the sensitive bump. He found himself moaning, his fingers brushing over places where movements bubbled up, bumping and brushing more significantly the more the space of his stomach was encroached on. Maurice wasn’t sure what would give in first - his expanding tum or the box.

His arms looking to be rising, his stomach squished against the walls and swelling into what spaces it could. His back side and hips pushed up into what remained. Just as he felt the bottom of his abdomen brush the floor of the box, the door of the box popped open. Maurice gasped, his belly practically bursting through the open space, briefly jiggling from the force of the drop. Just over the top of his ballooned gut he could see Cricket’s wide eyes and perked up ears. A brief effort was made to get out of the box, but there was no give. The walls of the box pressed into his bloated side, jostling his bulge enough to send the babies within into a new fit of movement.

“I think that was the wrong spell, Fancy Feet.”

#mpreg #belly kink #pregnancy kink #hyper pregnancy #maurice the marionette #conjuring cricket #asks #anonymous #stuckage

[lady-tortilla-chip]

Chuuya smiles. The curve of it is subtle, but the bright mix of relief and pride in it is clear as sunlight. It fills Dazai with the horrible sense that this is what perfection is. It makes the brunet think, for a moment, that he understands people who claim they’d do anything for the person they love. He thinks, for a moment, that he gets what people mean when they speak of unconditional and selfless love.

He almost reaches out to touch it. Nearly attempts to trace his fingertips over the shape Chuuya’s lips form. Thinks he could collect some of what Chuuya’s feeling for himself. Refrains only because Chuuya looks away from him. Turns that expression to everyone else and Dazai remembers where he is.

The air is bright with victory. Their respective subordinates collectively basking in it despite the corpses littered around them and the blood drenching their suit jackets.

This mission had been particularly arduous and though everyone reeked of exhaustion and death none of them noticed over the blanket sense of relief and success.

Dazai didn’t feel any particular way, focusing solely on his partner as the man walked away from him. Likely, to get an idea for the casualty count. Already falling back into business mode and leveling everyone else’s moods with it.

Dazai paid the shift no mind, leaving the clean up and what not to Chuuya. Brain whirring with the odd thoughts which had crossed over his heart and nearly made him move to fulfill such a random want. Not quite for what was actually desired though. He’s contemplated what touching Chuuya might be like before. A certain curiosity catalyzed by teenage hormones and nothing else. He was sure.

He knows the thoughts are normal, understands anyone else in his position would feel similarly. Hell, even some of the adults were weak to the natural beauty Chuuya possessed. Could see as much in pairs of eyes which traveled Chuuya’s body with interest.

Unrefined and imperfect though Chuuya’s particular brand of pretty was with his youth and inability to recognize it himself; the effect he had on others was stupidly strong.

Dazai also knew, the moment Chuuya realized it, he and anyone else who was already too susceptible to the man’s charm, would be screwed.

No, the desire wasn’t random at all, rather it was the thought that preceded it which was random.

The suggestion of love that his own mind had somehow conjured was absurd. The suggestion that Chuuya’s smile of all things, even briefly, brought the emotion into clarity for him was ludicrous. Bordered on insanity.

“Oi, Dazai!”

Dazai looks over to meet crystal clear blue eyes, the owner of which the grating call of his name had come from. Having caught his attention the irritating young man continues in a bark, “What the hell are you doing?”

Dazai cocks an eyebrow, his expression meant to telegraph how stupid the question is to him and judging by the twitch of Chuuya’s eye — he’s succeeded, “Is it not obvious slug? Is that ugly hat obstructing your vision so badly you can’t see I’m in the middle of breathing?”

The redhead growls, turning bodily away from the suited man he’d been conversing with prior to noticing Dazai, “I want to know why you’re just standing there!”

Dazai pouts, “Are you suggesting I should be doing more when I feel busy enough just existing?”

#haven’t shared a BSD snippet in AGES #so here ✨ #Soukoku #BSD #Bungou stray dogs #Nakahara Chuuya #dazai osamu #fic

[extremelyblackandwhite]

Hey Bea can you please write for Steve Kemp when he is on a hot holiday and he won't relax and Mrs. Kemp tries to tell him to relax when they're both away from their kids and parents. I would love to see Mrs. Kemp and Steve on a hot holiday.

Love Everly ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

12 days of christmas- day 7

pairing: steve kemp x darker!reader

warnings: smut (18+)

      - AARON DEAN KEMP! - Steve ran after the slippery two year old through the beach.

Steve had been trying to put sunscreen on the two year old, a t-shirt, and a hat, but William, being William going through his terrible twos, had decided that following the seagull would be a much better use of his time. Therefore, Steve was now running after him in the sad, managing to catch him by his t-shirt before bringing him back to where the towels and his mother were. Y/N lowered her sunglasses, giving Aaron a disapproving look before he ran into her arms like a sheepish little boy as if he hadn’t run away from his father. 

       - Don’t hide next to mum. - Steve opened the sunscreen bottle handling to his wife who finished what he had started. - Maybe we should put you in track if you like running so much. 

      - Not as bad as Cornelia running into traffic. - she smiled at Aaron who was looking at her with puppy eyes. - Don’t run from daddy and mummy, okay? We want to make sure you’re ok and we can’t do that if we can’t see you. 

       - Where’s Daisy and what’s-his-name? - Steve perked up. - Darling, where are they?

       - Maybe having sex in the ocean. - she attempted her best serious face which only had Steve panicking more. - Relax, they took William to get ice cream. 

       - DAISY ANNE! - he yelled out loud enough for the whole beach to hear, making his wife roll his eyes at him. 

His overprotectiveness only died down once he saw Daisy and Billy come down with William between them holding a SpongeBob ice cream in his hands. He rushed towards his mother, waving his ice cream around. 

      - Look, mum! Look what Billy got me! - he smiled at his mum.

      - That’s lovely, Will. Did you thank Billy? - she held onto Aaron before he could escape again, while keeping eye contact with William. 

      - Thank you Billy! - he ran off again this time to show his other sisters the treat he’d gotten. 

      - You two better be in my sight. - Steve pointed at the couple. - I don’t wanna see anything else than a peck. 

      - Dad, we live together. - the 20 year old crossed her arms. 

      - Then do it in your flat so I can keep my delusions. Good?

      - Daisy, can you watch your siblings for a bit? - Y/N got up, holding onto Steve’s arm. - Me and your dad need to have a chat. 

Before Steve could protest any longer, Y/N was pulling him away from the beach and towards one of the small little wooden cabins on the beach. She guessed she couldn’t blame him for his overprotectiveness - it had been one of the things she’d liked about him when they got married, so it only made sense it got slightly worse once he got children, most of them being girls. He kept mumbling until she closed the wooden door behind her. 

       - Darling, they can be traumatising our remaining children as we speak. 

       - You need to relax. - she sat on his lap, each leg on the side. - Remember our honeymoon? 

       - Hm ... - he smirked. - Which part? 

       - You know what part. 

[chaoticproductivity]

I received this image as a writing challenge on Twitter, but I couldn't come up with anything for almost three months, until now. Let me know how you guys like this snippet and if there should be a part 2:

---

The Uchiha family was in Milan, Italy, for two weeks of "work vacation". While Fugaku and Itachi were to attend meetings and make acquaintances at a five-day convention - the real reason for their trip - for almost their entire stay, Mikoto was buying couture and going to fashion shows. And Sasuke was left to enjoy his trip as he pleased.

And he would be enjoying, if not for the insufferable heat. 

It was summer in Europe, so of course, it would be hot, albeit it was marginally better than Japan because it was only dry heat and not that wet, warm, mosquitoes-attracting stickiness he was used to back home.

Sasuke hated the summer, the blazing, late setting sun, and the summer people. To avoid heat stroke and an undesirable tan, he thought he might as well be a good tourist and become more educated about Italy. That was how he found himself on a quest to visit all the churches, museums, and theaters in Milan.

Sasuke was leisurely walking on one of the blue-green - Italians had a name for that color, glauco - corridors of the Pinacoteca di Brera. It was a little way after lunch, so it was not crowded, and those there were all very respectful of the ambiance, keeping quiet or only talking in hushed whispers.

That is why Sasuke was able to hear, coming from across the long hall, the unmistakable sound of a Japanese cellphone camera going off.

He looked over there in time to see a short girl, long dark hair tied in a braid under a white bucket hat, almost dropping her phone in a poor attempt to muffle the sound. 

Too late.

A nearby security worker was already approaching her. Sasuke followed the exchange with his eyes while trying to get closer to hear the scolding the girl was certain to receive.

"Scusa, signorina?” The girl froze in place. Didn’t even turn around to face de woman. “Scusa?”

She turned and Sasuke hid behind a statue, pretending to read the information on the plaque attached to it.

“Scusa”, third time is the charm. The girl finally turned, looking almost purple from embarrassment. "Spegni l'audio dal telefono, per favore.”

“I-io… Dispiace”, the girl would not raise her head to look at the security guard. “I don’t speak Italian, only English and Japanese. I-I’m here to… Learn.”

The guard sighed and repeated herself in the thick accent of someone that only knew a few obligatory phrases in other languages in order to do their job: “No sound on phone, turn off sound.”

“Oh! Oh, no. I can’t turn it off.”

“Yes, turn off sound.”

“N-no, you don’t understand, it-it’s the phone, I can’t…”

“Turn off sound or go.”

Sasuke took pity on a fellow countryman, that’s what he would tell himself later that night.

"È un telefono giapponese, l'audio non può essere disattivato. Ma va bene, stavamo andando via.”

“Ah, il suo ragazzo? Ok, finché stai zitto.” Validated by the male presence that seemed to be more equipped to handle Italy, the guard went back to her round.

Sasuke waited until the guard was far enough that she would not be able to hear them whispering and noticed the girl had slightly relaxed before addressing her.

“What did you think you were doing?”, he started. “There are silence warnings everywhere!”

“I know and I’m sorry, but I will not be able to finish my sketch now, so I wanted a picture to finish at home”, she started to babble and gather her things at the same time. Only then Sasuke noticed the big ass paper pad, all the colored pencils spilling from her tote bag, and the art history book open to a page about Francesco Hayez. “I honestly didn’t think it would be so loud.”

Sasuke looked up while she finished getting her things to the picture she was sitting right in front of. It was quite a famous painting. He remembered seeing photos of people kissing in front of it while he was researching places to visit in the city.

“Ah.”

Sasuke looked down. The girl had stopped and was looking at him a little dumbfounded.

“We are speaking Japanese”.

“What, did you think you had picked up Italian from just that?”

“No, I was just… Not paying attention.”

“That a habit of yours?”

“Not really”, she laughed, finally standing up.

That was when Sasuke realized that she had been answering earnestly all his sarcastic comments and acidic questions, seeming not at all bothered that a complete stranger - even if of the same nationality - was kind of mistreating her.

She finished gathering her things, put the tote bag on her shoulder, the big drawing pad under her arm, and bowed.

“Thank you so much for helping me.”

She was leaving, Sasuke noticed. She couldn’t leave. They weren’t done. Done doing what, however, was a mystery to him as well.

“Why this painting?”

“Huh?”

“The painting you were sketching, it’s this one of the kissing couple, isn’t it?”, Sasuke asked while approaching the painting. By Francesco Hayez, hence the book. He had successfully prevented her from leaving. Why had he, though? “Because it’s romantic?”

He turned back to look at her and she was checking at the time. On her wristwatch. Her analogical wristwatch. On the inside of her wrist. She might as well be a 1980’s history teacher.

“I-i would love to explain about the painting, but I’m going to be late for class.” She looked truly sorry. Sasuke, however, for some reason he was trying to make sense of since his first move to help her, frowned, almost pouted.

“Just go, then.” He wanted to cross his arms but knew that that would seem very childish. “You’re welcome.”

Sasuke refused to look up at her, so he stared at her white sneakers. It was the same pair he was wearing. 

“I'll be here… Tomorrow. From morning until this time.” It took Sasuke a few seconds to understand that she had not left yet and was actually talking to him. “If you want to come, I’ll tell you about the painting.”

Then he looked up, at her never-ending eyes.

Tomorrow was his last day in that city. His family would be leaving Milan to go to Venice the day after that. He had made plans. His mom said something about a family brunch. Maybe go downtown with Itachi. He disliked visiting the same touristic place twice.

“Ok. Don’t be late.” Sasuke turned to the painting. “And since you are in Europe, get a silent phone.”

She chuckled, her sneakers squeaked as she left.

#tilim #sasuhina #sasuke #hinata #naruto #naruto universe #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ffnet #fanfiction.net #the kiss #il bacio #francesco hayez

[reefer-reelz-n-reviews]

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice (2010)

 

Smoking: Papa Smurf {I had attempted to rolls some jays for the movie but for some reason they wouldn’t stay sealed 😥}

 

Here is the little description from Disney+ “A modern-day sorcerer must make his seemingly average recruit into the ultimate apprentice.” I feel it sums it accurately. Now for my high mind to write this week’s entry 😊

We start off with a background on the 3 sorcerers that worked under Merlin, James A Stephens, and the evil Morgana, Alice Krige. We have Nicolas Cage playing Balthazar and Alfred Molina playing Horvath the dueling for good and evil. Then we get a glimpse a little more into the future of a young boy named Dave who is found out to be the Prime Merlinean.

Now we go 10 years later and adult Dave is played by Jay Baruchel. The voice of Hiccup in How to Train Your Dragon. I love the relationship Dave has with Bennet, played by Omar Benson Miller. Bennet wants to help him not be by himself and spend time with friends so he doesn’t get stuck in his science projects alone.

Nicolas Cage coming into save the day by turning wolves to puppies while riding a giant metal eagle. I mean can you talk about an entrance!

One of my favorite parts is coming up. The fight in China Town, and on top of that during a festival! We have the fight between Balthazar and Sun-Lok played by Gregory Woo. He has this really cool power where he turned one of the festival paper dragons into a real dragon and chase Dave around. I love how they use the confetti. Its just floating down gracefully, and then they use magic to manipulate it as well.

I’m watching the movie right now on Disney+, but I also have the DVD as well. In the special features they go into details about how they made the Merlin Circle because they didn’t want it to be put in but have it be real. Now I don’t remember a lot about what was said, okay okay, any of what was said ahahah, but I remember thinking it was interesting lol.

Watching Jay try to make a plasma bolt is hilarious! It’s like a whole training sequence where he is basically failing, and failing hilariously.

Now we have Horvath trying to get some more help by reaching out to Drake Stone, played by Toby Kebbell. He uses his sorcerer abilities to be a magician and make money by doing shows. Very good looking and killer accent 😍

There is a Star Wars reference in this movie. Thinking about it. I wonder if in some how Disney new that 2 years after this movie came out they would take the Star Wars franchise?

Then they is the wonderful scene where Dave leaves his lab to be cleaned by his magic. This scene was done with a lot of people in green outfits being different kinds of cleaning supplies. It is an ode to the scene in Fantasia where Mickey Mouse puts on Merlin’s hat and does the same thing with the brooms and mops. They did a REALLY good job putting it all together.

And I just got a 10min interruption by a cat. Calcifur apparently needed my attention for a little while lol.

Snack Break!

I got this way too huge slice of cake. Its soooo good and coconutty 🤤

Can’t believe I’ve gotten almost 600 words in and haven’t even mentioned Dave’s love interest Becky, played by Teresa Palmer. They have a very cute relationship that buds throughout the movie.

Now we get to the last battle. Morgana has been brought back through the 3rd sorcerer Veronica, played by Monica Bellucci. Morgana’s soul is connected to Veronica’s and she is trying to complete the ritual she was stopped from in the beginning of the movie.

We have Balthazar and Horvath battling each other while she is shooting fire balls up in the sky and no one in New York is paying any attention to it. Nor was I for the last 5 mins lol. I got distracted on my phone for a minute there.

Dave gets to battle Morgana in the end, and you know, stuff happens. Once again, trying not to ruin stuff here lol!

Hope you enjoyed this week’s review! Till next time ❤

 

-RRR

#james a stephens #alice krige #nicolas cage #alfred molina #jay baruchel #omar benson miller #Gregory woo #toby kebbell #teresa palmer #monica bellucci #the sorcerer's apprentice

[writingsofhubris]

Villainous Thing Ch. 3

And we can't have you living a lie    

[AO3]  | [ Series Masterlist > | Ch. 2 | Ch. 4 ] Rating:  Explicit WC: 4.1k | 10.6k Tags: Temporary Amnesia, Falling In Love, Retrograde Amnesia, Caretaking, Anxiety Disorder, Eventual smut, Fandom:   Sorcerer’s Apprentice (2010)   Ship:  Maxim Horvath x Reader Disc:    Finding a man in an alley, unable to even remember his full name, you  couldn’t help the offer of help. In NYC, people got hurt a lot, if they weren’t looked out for, and in your neighborhood, people helped each  other when they could. Somehow, you knew that the moment the smartly  dressed man had stumbled onto your bed, things would change. Things  would be vastly different. If only he could remember who the fuck he was.

 Usually, when you got home, the house was quiet, Maxim preferring the silence that he could get when your neighbors were out. You’d understood his disposition, even if loud music was your method to cure madness.

 But the soft clanging the kitchen made you walk further into your apartment, seeing Maxim struggling with the limited space. The steam of the broth had shaken a couple pieces of his hair loose, despite his best attempts to continually smooth and fight with it into submission.

 You watched as Maxim took a ladle, and started to stir the soup again. Your hat came off, a small clump of snow making a loud ‘plop’ as it hit the flooring. You opened your jacket, walking to him.

 “Smells good. Really good.”

 “Minestrone soup,” he replied, eyes on the liquid. “Another memory. Have you ever had it before?”

 “Can’t say I have. But I got the bread like you asked.” You pulled out a freshly made sourdough loaf, setting it on the one clean spot in the kitchen. You quickly took to cleaning and setting the table for you,

 Domesticity like this hadn’t come easily to Maxim. You had settled in a little quicker, happy to be able to split work after you came home from an engagement, only to have to turn around and work on editing each photo to just right.

 You finished setting the table right as Maxim finished, setting the pot on an old pot holder to serve you both directly. A chunk of bread was torn off for you both, and you couldn’t help your groan of pleasure after your first bite.

 “This is absolutely delicious. I need you to cook more often for me.”

 “I only just remembered a recipe for it last night. Thankfully, I didn’t forget anything.”

 “Did you remember anything else?” You didn’t often push for such information, the pained look on his face almost always too much for you to bear. Today, the look didn’t filter onto his face, joy replacing it in the smallest amounts. No, he didn’t remember who Veronica was any more than he could remember exactly what he’d been doing the few minutes before you had found him. But he’d remembered more people; Balthazar was one of the first names. Maxim believed him to be some old friend, but that they had ended up victims of a falling out over something.

 “Or someone,” you had pointed out. “Wouldn’t be the first time two guys stop talking ‘cause of a woman.” Maxim paused, thinking for a few moments.

 “It may very well have.”

 “Continue,” you then said, digging back into your soup to shut your mouth up.

 Merlin and Morgana, he knew both had mentored him at some point, but more than that he was unsure. He didn’t even know if they knew each other.

 “Maybe that’s why you knew so much about those myths I’d been reading. Maybe you were in theater?" The look of reproach would have been enough, but Maxim stood, collecting your bowls with efficiency. Apparently that would be a solid no. But his voice started to ring out again, And you let yourself fall into listening to his voice. It was rare that he would offer such stories, allowing himself to indulge. He was too focused on regaining memories, that it was only at our behest that he would ever stop and take a few moments away from trying to recall what wasn’t ready to come.

 He led you to the living room at last, and you could tell he was about finished. The final words rang, the last pieces that had clicked together settling into your mind. It almost didn’t sound like there was much to be recovered from here. The natural light filtering in from your window had long since disappeared. You took a few moments, trying to organize everything he’d told you. The most surprising of course was the final sentence.

 “Wow. I gotta say, this is much more entertaining than the traveling magician I thought you were originally.”

 “You doubt me.” The accusation was clear, and your shoulder lifted. “I am not a traveling magician in the way you are familiar with.” Maxim shifted for a moment, pulling a small glass figurine that you’d picked up ages ago. A little scuffed from its time in the streets, but still clearly some form of animal. He shifted his cane to rest against his knee, and you let your eyes move over it again, landing on the dark blue jewel at top. Unthinkingly, your finger moved the black ring you always wore on your finger, fidgeting in the smallest way afforded to you.

 Maxim’s hand moved between you, his upturned palm a perfect rest for the tiny figurine. Maxim’s hand moved to brush a small piece of lint off the head of it, only for the glass to suddenly shift, cocking the glass head.

 The sudden movement made you fly back to your edge of the sofa, hands resting on oversized cushions.

 “Maxim, what the fuck?” Your voice was lowered, looking between the glass and his shadowed eyes.

 “The Alchemy of Motion. One of the houses of discipline in which I was taught. In addition to my memories, my magic, my spells, have returned to me in a small amount.” His smile appeared, proud of his mind for a moment. “This spell returned in the time it took me to take a breath, from start to end.” You couldn’t help shifting to him, the small figurine bouncing around his palm once again. Fractals of light reflected from it, shifting and moving each hop that it took.

 “Is it alive?”

 “No, simply manipulated by the laws that govern it.”

 “Which means you’re manipulating it with…”

 “Magic.” His words cut into you, offering the final word needed. Your hand moved to rest over your lips, trying to hold in the sudden rush of nerves. You were more than overwhelmed, even as you watched the slight luminosity disappear from both his cane, and the figurine. His hand closed around the figurine, mostly back in its former shape, before setting it on the coffee table.

 “Okay.” You felt your knee bouncing just slightly, trying to force the rejection of this knowledge from your mind. Words were mostly failing you, and your default reaction was on your lips; comedy. “I assume we’re working with normal genie rules?”

 “Genies, no. They’re much more limited in their scope.”

 “I thought it was just the love, reanimation, killing thing.”

 “I only met one.”

 “Can anyone become a… magician?”

 “Sorcerer, not magician,” he corrected. “Not everyone has the ability, and not every person who can become one, does.”

 “How can you tell?” You could tell that he wasn’t as sure in that answer, eyes turning away from you for just a moment. “You’re going to have to tell me once you remember.” If he ever did.

 “That leads me to my final topic for the night.” Well, shit. He’d never broached a topic like that before. You straightened slightly, only to lean your elbow against the back of the sofa, head cocked.

 “Hit me.”

 “I have managed to set up an appointment with the company I own. If I am able to convince these board members just who I am, then I should regain more of what I have lost.” The words spoke of progress, good progress, meaning that Maxim would be able to return to his life. You didn’t know just  why the words a pit opened in your stomach instead of hope for him.

 “Awesome. When’s that set for?”

 “Two weeks from today, at one.” His displeasure was colored on his face, a slight scowl appearing. “The assistant I had gotten in contact with claimed each of my board members had decided to go on a vacation, and were unreachable in the interim.”

 “So, you’ve got two more weeks of simply being Maxim.” You pulled out your phone, and looked at the date. “The final two weeks of 2010, and in 2011, you’ll be back to the owner of an insurance company.” Your thumb drummed against the side of your phone for a second, before you stood up from the sofa. “Let’s go get ice cream.”

 “With the weather?” You looked out the window, seeing the start of fat, white snowflakes drifting on the other side of the glass.

 “And? That corner shop’s going to be open, and if they’re out of ice cream, I’ll get something else. You coming?” You already had grabbed your goat and boots, heavy things that kept in your warmth without becoming waterlogged from melted snow. You always were thankful for the protection they offered you, swathing you from the elements.

 Maxim’s footfalls, almost too close, alerted you to him behind you. You only allowed a glance to the side as he put on that heavy coat you’d first found him in, and though it was mismatched with the warmest of the sweaters you’d gotten him, he mainly looked warm.

 By the time you both were on the street, snow had already covered the walk, as well as some of the parked cars. People were hurrying about, faster than either of you wished to walk for the night.

 “Beautiful.” Your eyes were on the mess of humanity mixing with nature, meaning you missed just where Maxim was looking.

 Someone pushed you forward in their hurry to get to their destination, pulling you away from Maxim for a few seconds. You almost lost him, until your hand was taken by a large hand, tugging you back the way you’d been pushed from. Your hand was placed on his elbow, and he tucked you into his side effectively. In doing so, you were sucked into the bubble that was how Maxim walked through the world.

 Between him and the snow, the world became muffled. Looking up the distance to his face, you were struck with the simple elegance that spread through his body, that allowed him the presence to make people move aside for him. Every second of the memories he had shared with you, it was almost impossible to not realize that he was a sorcerer of old, a man who had walked centuries more than anyone you’d ever met before.

 He made you feel safe. His very presence soothed the anxiety that’d been building in you.

 You’d almost forgotten the destination you’d been the one to set, until Maxim opened the door to the ice cream parlour. A wave of sugar-scented air hit you, then the warmth that’d been kept in by the old door. Your name was loudly, hollered out in the empty parlour. You laughed, using your hand on Maxim to pull him through the doors. You left thirty minutes later with a cone for each of you, and a chocolatey frozen tub for yourself, later.

 Taking Maxim’s arm felt like the most natural progression when you stepped back into the snow. You didn’t want the rest of the walk back to end. Short as it was, you were sneaking looks up at his profile, memorizing each divot as you could. Even his dimples, so rarely seen by you, were out for just a few moments. Specks of flakes landed on his coat, only to melt moments later.

 With a firmness in your heart, you really didn’t want these last two weeks to disappear. If you could live in these moments for the rest of your life, and ignore everything else, you couldn’t confidently admit if you’d choose the right option.

 December 31st, ten AM. The time and date were reflected in digitized format over your phone, the call you’d just been on finally ending. A sigh, leaning back into the chair you’d been sitting in.

 Maxim had been getting ready during your phone meeting, and when you heard the bedroom door open, you waited for him to walk down the hallway.

 You’d been expecting a man with timeless beauty, that was for sure. But the miraculously unscathed suit still fit him like a glove, hugging his figure and flattering him in just the right ways. He looked like he should have been walking down a street in Victorian London, not walking down your tiny hallway.

 You didn’t hide the look you were giving him, taking in his hand grasping the shaft of his cane, the straight back, the poker face he always wore.

 Even despite the proof you had of his years on this earth, the inability to work most electronics prime above all of them, it wasn’t until you saw him cleaned up and dressed properly that you really believed his claim. There wasn’t even a hint of the man you’d found months ago, half crumpled in pain and a lack of memory. In his hands was a bowler hat that you only had had for a few months, the one you had found just before him.

 “Where did you get this?”

 “Found it, the night that I found you. Just seemed to be thrown out, but it still was good.”

 “This is mine.”

 “I found it at the mouth of the alley.”

 “May I have it back?” Part of you wanted to keep it, now that you knew that it was his.

 “Of course.”

 The only thing that had been missing was his coat, which he took and laid over his arm after a beat. He was ready to go to the meeting, and to you, this would be the last moments that you would ever see the man. These last moments of drinking in his assured nature would be the ones to stick in your mind this entire time.

 And Maxim was ready to leave.

 “I think that just how you look would make them believe you’re the owner.” The smile you’d become so familiar with once again appeared on his lips,  taking the compliment you’d offered him with the grace you’d only seen in him.

 “Do you think such? It’s the only clothing I have to allow myself to feel presentable.”

 “Oh, it’ll work wonders.” And perhaps more on any woman he decided to pursue after this. That disappointment that so often flooded your body once again appeared, and it took every fiber in your being to hold in those feelings. You’d both known that this would be the end of your relationship from the first second that he had refused a hospital. It was hard to separate the emotions from your reality. “Let me know how the next time you end up needing to hide out or something, if I’m lucky I’ll have a sofa that won’t ruin my back.”

 Unthinkingly, you bounced your knee, only bouncing a couple times before you looked down at your planner again. Most importantly, not looking at Maxim. It was going to be pretty damn lonely once he left, being New Years Eve.

 Yet when you heard his footsteps, they weren’t moving to the door. Instead, they walked the short distance needed to stand next to you, his hand pulling your face up to look at him. Your name fell from him softly, a request instead of a demand.

 “Thank you. You helped me at no benefit to yourself, and you did so without a single request. People like you are more rare than we would like to believe in this world. I know this.” You could feel the finality in his words, his tone assured.

 Even if you wanted to ask if this was goodbye, you couldn’t manage to bring yourself to ask him.

 “I’d do it again if you needed. Good luck today, not that you’ll need it.” His thumb brushed over your jaw as he pulled away, and you heard the door click closed behind him. Tears started, but you knew how to be quiet in moments like this. Your walls were too thin any other way.

 You scrubbed your face to hold in your emotions, before standing, locking the lock and chain on your door. Heading to your bathroom, you intended to soak away an hour with some candles, then watch some kind of comfort show. Wallowing had done nothing for you when you were younger, and you weren't going to allow yourself to waste this new year. Something would make you feel better, and if nothing else, at least you were able to indulge yourself in a long, hot bath.

 Time flew faster than you’d expected it to. The water cooled quicker than you’d wished it to, chilled in the freezing air that snuck into your apartment. You’d bathed and dressed in comfortable clothes, old worn in clothes that you needed to throw out, but simply hadn’t yet. You hadn’t worn it for months, not since before Maxim had started living with you. It was by your choice, but you wanted some comfort on one of the few days off you could allow yourself. It wasn’t as if you had Maxim to impress anymore, after all.

 You didn’t know if it was love that you had with Maxim, even as your heart hurt as it needed to. But you were certainly infatuated. Everything about him seemed to draw you closer to him, from the harsh words he would throw, to the sweet good nights you’d made him become accustomed to. Maybe it was your fault for letting your heart run ahead of you, but it was your fault. Maxim would have his company back within the afternoon, and you’d have the same, small company that didn’t pay the bill without careful spending. At least you still had a half a pint of something frozen and chocolatey in your freezer for now.

 A very something that you’d bought with Maxim.

 Frustration colored your thoughts, only for you to put it out of your head. Hours continued to pass as you indulged in random shows that you hadn’t gotten a chance to even put on in the background.

 You were curled into the side that Maxim normally took, and with the sheets that had been on the sofa in the washer, you were curled under your duvet, knowing the scent would fade over the next week or so. You knew that you were spiraling, just a little. But you were alright, and you didn’t have anything to do anyway.

 No, you just quoted along to the movie that you’d switched it to, laughing along to the silly jokes that long since had lost the punch of their punchlines. It was comforting, familiar, and you stabled out eventually. Somehow, when it hit six thirty, you found yourself stable again, the movies and ice cream well doing their tricks.

 ‘Play’ selected on your DVD player, and the opening credits to another movie started, familiar enough to hum along to the notes.

 Until loud, sudden knocks rang through your apartment, and you sprung to your feet, opening the door until the chain caught it. Maxim peeked through the slit in wood, a brow raised at your actions.

 “Maxim, you’re… Wait, why are you back?”

 “May I come in?”

 ‘Yeah.” Closing the door again, you stopped for a moment to look down at your outfit. You didn’t have anything to cover up with, so you quickly unlatched the chain, and opened it so Maxim could walk in. You closed the door quickly, flipping the dead bolt. You looked up at him, hands moving to your elbows, trying to hide some of your body. You felt vastly under-dressed compared to him, and much smaller.

 “I’ve left something rather important here.”

 “Oh. Yeah, you know where the bedroom is.” And hopefully he wouldn’t notice the lack of a blanket. You took a half step into your apartment again, only for Maxim’s gloved hand to move to your upper arm, stopping you from moving further.

 “It’s not in the bedroom, bunny.”

 “Then what is it?”

 “You.”

 “Makes sense.” You forced a rueful smile onto your lips. “Where in the world would you be without your nurse?”

 “You’re being entirely too stubborn.”

 “I’m being realistic.” You made an effort to make that distinction, firm in your conviction of your words. Your hands moved to his chest, a conviction you didn’t realize that you had come to during the day solidified. Your hands moved to rest on his chest, keeping the space between you in the smallest form. “I’ve been your nurse, Maxim. That, and your safe space to recall your memories, and that’s what I should stay.”

 “Would I come back as just a nurse?” His point was clear.

 “No, but I don’t know why you would come back here. There’s nothing you’d need here anymore.”

 Maxim tilted your head up, and leaned his head down to kiss you, deeply. Your arms slipped from his chest, up to his shoulders, pulling yourself up on the tips of your toes. You couldn’t help the release of emotions that swirled through you, that conviction from moments quickly crumbling in little effort. Maxim didn’t pull away until you did, still held close to his body.

 “Painfully stubborn.” Maxim whispered the words against your lips, and a laugh fell from your lips.

 You pulled away slowly, taking his hands in yours. It was easy to guide him to the room that he’d be sleeping in for the last few months. Your hands slipped under the lapels of his jackets, sliding the fine fabric off his shoulders in one go. You didn’t let them fall, the moment taken to step closer to Maxim, looking up at him with nerves clear in your face.

 “Will you lay down for me?” Your voice didn’t shake as you asked that of him, hope in your chest that he would comply.

 His thumb brushed over  your cheek one more time, before he took his place in the center of the bed, back against the headboard. His brow cocked, clearly waiting to see what you were going to do. For a moment, you just looked, and admired his form. Moving to rest a leg on either side of his hips was the obvious next step, your hands on his shoulders.

 Those hands moved to the buttons on the front of his shirt. Each inch of shirt moved to the side offered you another inch of Maxim’s skin, finding scars you’d never been allowed to see before. You’d have him tell you the stories that had returned to him at some point.

 It wasn’t until his hands had moved to your hips that you realized just how much your need for him had grown.

 Clothing was shed quickly, and Maxim shocked you by flipping your positions with ease, taking his time to worship your body. He touched nearly every spot you loved. Months of being pent up and in the same apartment with him meant it didn’t take long for you to feel wetness gathering in your underwear.

 Maxim left small bites along your shoulders, his fingers only slipped into your hole at your soft pleas for more.

 Maxim took his time learning your body, pulling pleasure from you in ways you hadn’t experienced before.

 Maxim had you resting over his chest, your head pressed into his neck, his hand on your lower back, holding you on top of him.

 It was nice to have your bed back, even if Maxim was separating you and the mattress. He was comfortable, and you could feel his chest moving under you.

 “Us Morganians are not sorcerers who look for good in this world. My past already has made me aware of how humanity marches to the objective of satisfaction.”

 “You must be finding tons of people who fit the bill, here in New York City.” You pressed your head against his neck more firmly, soaking in the warmth of his skin, heat trapped between you both under the comforter.

 “Look at me,” Maxim instructed, urging you to look at him with gentle pressure on your jaw. “You’ve been one of the few pillars that have stood for kindness.” Your eyes flicked from his to rest on his lips, your thumb brushed over his lower lip, this the hair of his goatee.

 “Be careful, Maxim, or I might think you’re actually falling for me.” The smile that had appeared on his lips spoke more than any verbal response could have. Perhaps he was, but neither of you were ready to admit that to even yourselves. You’d taken care of him, and if you were really lucky, he could take care of you for a bit.

 You pressed a kiss to his neck, once again hiding your face in his neck.

 Regardless of pesky things like emotions, Maxim was comfortable under you, and you had no intention of moving any time soon. 

I’m haunted by the feelings of things I can’t remember. But what would I be without the ghosts? The opposite of a haunting is something Very lonely

Tags! @randomfandomtrash28​ @emotrash1 @unitedfandomsoftheworld​ @arandomnerdsblog578​ @overlookedfile​ @yesalwayswelles

#bunny u #maxim horvath #maxim horvath x reader #x reader #alfred molina #.W #hi ty for your patience

[andnowwedance]

We have nothing but bread crumbs. If you eliminate everything that was gathered by fans stalking their friend/family/real estate listing we only have the people statement and blurry pics from a park.//

Nope, a few people who work behind the scenes have stated this is PR.

Omg I don’t want to dive back into this catastrophe but I just want to state actual facts. There are no “blurry” park pics. Chris and Alba did a cringe PR walk in the park and as soon as the pic was taken by the hired photographer they dropped hands…how do we know that because a random stranger caught them on video not even a minute later with Chris’ hand in his pocket and Alba seeing the camera and trying to grab his hand that was previously holding hers before he placed it in his pocket, so ….these two couldn’t hold hands for the duration of the song playing in the background at the park, but they are so “in love and serious” 🙄

Things would’ve been fine if the pap pics were the only thing released but they got caught by a random stranger on video, not a fan.

Her and her friends racist, fatphobic, nazi posts were discovered.

His own mother likes a comment stating “why are people defending a racist”…..referring to Alba.

they haven’t been spotted together since the second failed PR attempt at Disney World, but who knows that might change depending on if the contract is officially over or not.

One of her friends had a public like that called Chris a “dollar store Leo DiCaprio with half the talent” and when that was discovered her friend deleted the like and it’s been proven that the same friend named Justin has been trolling his fans since day one.

Yes, his fans have done the absolute most, but this definitely isn’t one sided. This is not solely on the fans, these clout chasing fools, trolled and got the attention they oh so wanted, but by all means if you honestly believe her and Chris are in a serious relationship and they are trying to keep things private now…..after her show got canceled and her and her friends evil posts were exposed that she desperately decided to leak her own nudes….for whatever reason….can’t blame fans on that, she did that herself, no she’s wasn’t “hacked”.

If her and Chris wanted to be private they could’ve done that, but they’d actually have to be in a relationship. They went “public” the day the third season of her show aired, and ironically his team has been working to clean up online the past week.

It’s a contract, but I’ll just be labeled as “crazy” and maybe I am but remember a crazy person is known to be right once in a while. 😉🤭

…I’ll humor you….. *takes off “crazy” hat*

but hey who knows what’s going on, but one thing we aren’t going to act like this is the typical “omg the fans are jealous and ruining his “relationship”. This mess has been exposed more times than I can count but people want substantial proof ….so I guess when a break up article happens everyone who believes they are legit will go “it’s the fans fault” for their break up yet it’ll be listed as “the long distance” was hard for the two to make the “relationship” work.

Have a great weekend and know things are never fully as they seem. 😉 These two botched their own PR contract. What you originally typed is what the general population knows, a few folks who are in the industry behind the scenes have also stated this is PR but again, time will reveal all. Feel free to believe whatever you want. Have a great weekend!

Who exactly are these behind the scene people? What have they stated exactly?

Look theres so much nonsense in here im not gonna waist the few hours i have before i go to bed breaking it all down. Especially considering that you fully acknowledge it makes you look crazy. There is a lot of stuff in here that can essentially be boiled down to “we bully her because she is making us” and that is not only a dumb thing to suggest, it is a dangerous mind set to have in your life. You are bullying them because you want to, maybe it makes you feel better about your self idk. But remember you can’t control other people actions, only your own. You can simply stop following alba and her friends and stop taking the bait if that truly what you believe they are doing

However i will address this part. Alba did not leak her owe nudes, i will simply never believe this because it is a ridiculous thing for a person in her position to do.

And ill leave you with this

#you do not know the motivation behind any of her actions #you can not definitely say she leaked them on purpose #chris evans #alba baptista

[roosterbox]

I took some more notes while watching Hannibal, lol.

Fromage

Opening with Will at work. Nice.

God he’s gorgeous

Oh now what is this?

There’s a man outstanding in his field, loooool

Oh hi Tobias

Catgut? Sometimes they’re made of peeeeeoooople guts! Oooooooh, spooky!

I wish the opening titles were longer

Nice hat, Will

Aw Will. It was totally a date, wasn’t it?

Don’t worry Alana - you’ll find someone! And her name is Margot.

Ah, Franklin. You’re a bit sad and pathetic, but eh. I feel bad for you.

Oh damn! Turned him into an instrument!

Pretty gnarly

Jack, i love you, but leave my boy alone.

Do the thing

*woosh* *woosh*

Yay!

That’s right Will - manspread, lol.

I think I saw the corpse move. Oops. It happens.

“This is my design” *sounds of FBI agents cheering*

Garrett Hobbs, for a dude who died in the pilot, you’re sure sticking around. Like a bad stain.

Bedelia! I love her. Gillian Anderson is ❤️❤️❤️

Dang Will, way to be creepy, lol.

I goddamn love Bev. And I know what’s gonna happen to her and it makes me sad.

Hannigram time, woot!

I love when they work together.

“What do you see behind closed eyes?” Uhhhhhhh eyelids???

“Because he knows I’d tell you” Oooooh Franklin! Look at you with your insight!

Hanni and the theremin? Somehow this makes too much sense, lmao.

Making flys.

I think Will is wearing the ladder outfit. Not the episode with that scene in it, but still, *hannigram fangirling intensifies*

Will loves animals ❤️

KISS!

Willana? No thank you!

You wouldn’t be good for each other.

I’m sorry Will and Alana, but your soulmates are in another castle!

Dinner time!

“Don’t kill Franklin.” Awww Hannibal!

Aw shit, Tobias. Now Hanni has to kill you, lol.

Two killers talk about killing each other.

Moar hannigram!

“I kissed Alana Bloom” well hello to you too, Will.

Hanni is attempting not to be jealous.

Hannibal’s love language is feeding people. And, on occasion, feeding people PEOPLE.

“I met a man” Oh do tell!

“I’m not interested in being his friend.” AKA I’d rather be his boyfriend.

Careful Will…

Saved by the psychosis (actually the encephalitis, but we’re not supposed to know that yet, lol)

Ear ringing. That’s a very nice touch. I love when movies/shows remember that guns are LOUD.

Look at Hanni, being a responsible psychiatrist.

“I just killed two men.” Hanni immediately thinks of Will, and is concerned.

Awww Franklin.

Geez, Hanni! I guess being worried about Will makes him a tad more… murdery.

Farewell Franklin

Lmao what.

Hanni getting IN. TO. IT. I like it.

Ladder arm break, ouch.

Dayum, Hannibal.

Hanni sees Will, is visibly relieved.

“I feel like I’ve dragged you into my world”

THESE TWO MAH GAWD, they’re so into each other it’s ridiculous

Bedelia!

“I can’t help feeling responsible for what happened to Franklin” gee, maybe because YOU KILLED HIM WITH YOUR BARE HANDS, lmao

This fucking show, man.

Soooo this one was nice and gay. Even with the Willana kiss, lol.

Only one for tonight, though. Maybe I’ll tackle nine and ten tomorrow.

#rooster watches hannibal for the first time #rooster takes notes while watching things #lol #the hannigram was strong with this one #but Tobias twirling around that string was a bit silly #oh well #with the amount of hannigram this episode gave me #i can forgive a little silliness

[flowerwept]

@antipyre said: ✍️  + WAIT can you do ardbert too would you be mad

On the Source things feel so normal. And were it not for the circumstances that brought them here, Ardbert might say he’s enjoying himself. Remembering why he started this in the first place. There’s an indescribable joy at seeing new places and meeting new people. But that burden knocks on the underside of his skull always, and a little bit of guilt presses into his fingers every time Ardbert picks up his axe again / again / again / forge ahead, always -- till the bitter end, and with their luck it would certainly leave a bad taste in everyone’s mouth.

The snow crunches underneath his heels. Ishgard reminds Ardbert of Voeburt--he knows if even he can make this connection, then Branden must be especially struggling and attempting to reconcile his own experiences back home with this new land. Corruption: always a moment away. Never any time to rest. But here they are villains, not heroes, and it is not their job to clean up the mess.

“Elf names are said so strangely here,”  and Ardbert’s shoulder knocks Nyelbert’s as he passes the mage, attempting to wrestle some banter back into the day.  “Wouldn’t you say so, Naillebert?”  Nyelbert shoots him a look from underneath the wide-brimmed hat, and Ardbert could swear things were okay. Maybe if I close my eyes, I can pretend we’re back home -- maybe when I open them --

“’Tis a better alias than ‘Arbert,’“  the mage retorts, arms crossing in front of him crossly.

“That, I cannot deny,”  Ardbert laughs and his cheeks dimple, spread of freckles catching the harsh winter sun. A hand rubs at his neck.  “Call it panic. Or stupidity.”

“Or both,”  Renda-Rae chimes in, and it’s Ardbert’s turn to shoot a look / but he can’t play the villain all the way through, and the glare falls short just a moment too soon before it can have any real weight to it -- falling short seems to be a talent of his.

“Alright, alright. In my defense, coming up with a name is a difficult endeavor!”  He’d already done it once with Ardbert and he wouldn’t be assed to try it again any time soon.  “But point taken.”

#i know i already wrote ardbert but i wanted to do it again #(writes a short drabble) #(shoves every headcanon i have for this guy into one post) #antipyre #guest muse: ardbert. #asks. #long post //