#got my money returned! its like half the money i get for a month from my parents on my living expenses so.

[seraphim-soulmate]

it's strange beyond belief going from thinking "oh I need a new bag" -> finding one on the street that's in pretty good condition and going "yes fuck yes thank GOD I really needed a bag"

TO

thinking "oh I need a new bag"" -> "well I guess I'll add it to my dad's wishlist and we can talk about whether or not he wants to buy it" -> "oh shit he bought the bag for me without me having to convince him of the pros of having this bag. I have a bag that I like and that suits all my needs now and I didn't have to mentally agonize over it"

#personal #me #2023 voyage #its just a really weird experience going from having 400$ a month to live on and stealing and getting things from friends #to suddenly having things purchased for me en masse. i have like half of a new wardrobe. i have shirts that excite me. #this isn't a bragging post. its a things are really weird and im gonna have to go back to not having shit post. #like i got new really expensive running shoes that fit me like a dream but aren't waterproof #and i also really wanted waterproof trekking/hiking shoes #so i got the hiking shoes online and they fit me fine but like could bear to have a bit more space #but i don't have the time to order another pair before i leave #so either i take these ones with me and hope that they work fine. which. they should. #or i let my dad return them because they're not perfect #and then I don't have hiking shoes. and i know i won't get hiking shoes bcs spoons bcs money etc #idk in which store i could even attempt to get these shoes and ordering online is near impossible. especially a wide fit shoe.

[horrible-oracle]

so there's a friend. we got talking and hanging out more when another friend was on vacation. actually there are a lot of things im annoyed by in her and things i really dont like in her, and this is kinda mutual, like we're sort of friends but we're not really good for each other. and we were planning to go on a trip together on may holidays, back when it wasn't as bad. and now she texted that she realized it would be really hard for us to spend several days with each other and we returned our train tickets. and i didn't feel anything

#ig im maybe a little sad? but like a teeny tiny bit #i dont feel anything i dont care much this is actually for the better and ive been thinking abt it too #but im too much of a coward to say it so thank god she isnt a coward #like i realised the trip might be ruined but i still wanted to go kinda #so i wasnt telling her but idc really #got my money returned! its like half the money i get for a month from my parents on my living expenses so. #the only thing that kinda bothers me is that this might be a first step of us not being friends anymore? idk #again i dont feel anything lol #i actually told abt this whole thing to that other friend the other day so now i wonder if she told her but idk

[jiminrings]

fail-safe

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.

alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: finally got to writing a new series!!! i'm beyond excited for this + this whole new concept and flow i haven't touched on before <3 i hope u love fail-safe as much as i do :-)

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Yoongi buys atleast one scratch ticket a week.

The accessibility of buying one is top-notch considering that all he has to do is cross the street, shoot one look to the cashier, and he can either already go hunch in the corner of the road or in the comfort of his room. The moment his coin takes its first dig and he realizes that he’s won yet again, he’s satisfied enough not to buy another ticket.

He doesn’t want to risk losing the win he’s just gained, the odds of him throwing out money besting his chances in adding to his earnings. He thinks everyone’s a little greedy one way or another, but it’s the righteous part of him that thinks he’s different.

You do think that he is for all the right reasons, your vision only tunneling for him alone. He’s this fixed older figure in your life and you can’t figure out how to shrug him off — he’s this generous leech that sucks all of the rationality from your mind but returns it to you twofold, whether in the form of him saying something unintentionally endearing that it makes your chest hurt, or through him having to lightly smack the back of your head.

Yoongi’s your older brother’s best friend and there’s a novelty tag that comes with him, one that can’t be topped by any material possession to your name. He’s there for you, not in the exact way you want him to be, but nonetheless there. He’s special and unattainable at the same time, the finiteness of his love barely extending to you.

He’s there when you want him to burn the latest songs onto a CD you’ve spent all your allowance in, and he’s there when you get annoyed that he sneaked some of his own recommendations in there. You’re there when you later admit that his suggestions aren’t half-bad, and you also happen to be there when he grins at the praise.

He’s there when Namjoon won’t cough up the last slice of his cutlet, not because he’ll actually give you his, but because he’ll help your brother guard his plate. You’d only have to mope for a solid of three seconds before the two of them give up both of their last slices, and you’re there when Yoongi insists for you to try the sauce in the spirit of going out of your routine.

You don’t need Yoongi every single time but in the event that you do, he hangs back. He contemplates and hesitates and doesn’t give in to every single whim that you have, but he’ll be there. He lingers like the last holiday ornament you don’t want to remove until it’s February, his presence being oddly similar to your favorite festivities.

Yoongi’s the equivalent of a holiday you look forward to with each passing month and day; he comes around to and for you in instances, but never even in your most sincere wishes.

“I buy one scratch ticket a week — three if I’m really feeling lucky. When my palms itch, that’s when I know that I really need to buy them.”

He’s calm and collected even when you’re scrunching your nose up at him in combined worry and disbelief, humming mindlessly as you collect your thoughts. He randomly told you about his lottery routine and you’re still trying to wrap your head around how he blows his money off just easily. Yoongi has the mind to put scrap cardboard under you because sitting on the hot concrete with your uniform on can’t possible be a good idea, but you try to play off your fluster into stubbornness.

He’s just playing with his two ever-present coins (lucky charms as he calls them)— one that’s shiny and minted in the present year, the other being the oldest coin he’s ever had that happens to be older than he is — while you mutter about.

“I don’t know, Yoongs. That might be a gambling problem,” you squint, your side comment being heard clearly as day. “Might be the symptoms for hand, foot, and mouth disease too.”

“What— I do not have a gambling problem! My skin’s perfectly fine too, thanks,” he defends, the light shove he gives you doing nothing to tone down your teasing.

“That’s what people with gambling problems say.”

“Give me that-…” he mutters, trying to wrestle you for the sundae he bought you using the money he won from his scratch ticket just awhile ago. You don’t give in easily, even if your laughs that come straight from your chest suggest otherwise. “You don’t get it. It’s just this nice, fun little thing I can look forward to every week. I always buy the cheapest version anyway so when I lose, it’s not a big deal.”

You relent (like you always do when it comes to Yoongi) in understanding, waving him off after regaining your breath. “Nah. I get it. We all have to do things so we wouldn’t lose our shit,” you trail, racking your head to find the right words.“Yours is buying scratch tickets, and mine is-…”

“Yours is what?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in eagerness to know where you’re going with this. He can’t pinpoint a single thing he can attach to you and neither can you, your actual interests merely reflecting those of the people whom you love.

You love cross-stitching because your mom loves doing it, the tolerance you have for accidentally being pricked by the needle growing over time.

You enjoy playing badminton because Namjoon’s obsessed with the sport, no matter how ratty your rackets and shuttlecocks have become, and no matter how much he pushes you to ring the doorbell to your neighbor’s when he’s sent it flying to their backyard.

You’re probably an imposter yet you don’t feel like it. You don’t feel bad that your life most probably and will only revolve around your mom and Namjoon (maybe even Yoongi); you don’t feel dissatisfied that your life’s mundane. 

You go where your love goes.

“Mine is watching you buy scratch tickets,” you shrug easily as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, making him laugh heartily. You’ve probably done something right because he hauls you up to your feet immediately.

“Get up. I’m buying you your first ticket,” he nudges you, grabbing you by the arm in excitement.

“But I’m not even legal!” you half-heartedly argue, internally excited that you’re finally getting to try your hand at the lottery because you’ve spent a few hundred minutes of your life tuned to the channel to pass the time, awaiting the results for something you haven’t even betted for.

“Right. Like I haven’t seen you trying to squeeze out a drop of beer from our empty cans whenever Namjoon and I drink.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes playfully, gathering your things from the ground.

“It’s okay. I’ll give you your first sip of beer too if you want,” Yoongi offers sincerely; easily as if you’ve just asked him about the weather.

He’s here to buy you your first scratch ticket, and he’s still here to offer giving you your first sip of liquor in the future.

Your family friend for a cashier vehemently ignores the fact that you’re still underage to participate in the lottery, and instead only chuckles to herself in amusement. She’s an aunt that knows when to step in and not to, and she knows you won’t be harmed by a mere bet. In fact, she knows you won’t be harmed by anything with Yoongi in tow.

“I already used up all my change,” your frown in realization, holding the ticket in your hands in despair despite having scoured your wallet repeatedly.

“Rub it against the pavement. That’s what I do,” Yoongi lies fluidly, a scoff being caught in his throat when you actually attempt to do it.  “I was only kidding, Y/N. Jeez,” he groans, pulling out his wallet. “Ugh. Here. You can have one of my lucky coins.”

It’s the old one, tarnished beyond relief that you can barely recognize what it’s actual value is supposed to be.

“Ew. I’m giving it back. It looks prehistoric,” you narrow your eyes, knowing that you don’t even have to put your fingers nears your nose to know that it’s already left a faint stench on them.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, a habit he can’t tell he’s formed himself or got from you. “If you use your brain for one second, you’d realize that it’s actually worth more because it’s older. Collectors would go crazy for that in the future.”

“That sounds like a hoarding problem.”

He’s just had about enough of your whining so he attempts to trade in the old coin for his lucky new one, but you stop him at the last minute with a meek smile.

“Kidding. Thank you. I’ll keep it safe, Yoongi. I promise,” you rush out before he changes his mind, scratching your ticket in silence.

He waits for you because you’re scratching so politely and neatly, a stark opposite to his experienced skill of scratching the paint off in ten strokes or less.

Your face is too close to the ticket that Yoongi can’t tell what’s happening, making him part your hair like a curtain to peek.

“Did you win?”

“Nope.”

“Let me throw that out for you.”

“No!” you squeak, keeping the ticket close to your chest. It’s a bummer that your first time is a loss, but it didn’t mean that you wanted to forget the sentiment behind it. “I-I mean no, I’ll keep it. It’s memorable now that I think about it.”

“Alright,” he shrugs carelessly, a smile breaking out in retaliation. “Hoarder.”

“Gambler,” you spit, tucking the ticket into your pencil case. “Next week again?”

Yoongi agrees, wrapping his head around the fact that he doesn’t have to be alone in his little routine every Friday.

“Sure.”

( ♡ )

You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.

As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.

You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.

You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.

Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye. 

You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself. 

So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.

“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”

“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.

Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”

You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.

The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.

“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.

“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.

“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”

There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.

You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.

There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.

“Yoongi.” 

“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.

“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”

“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”

You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”

“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.

“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?

You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.

Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.

You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”

He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot. 

Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.

“I will teach you next week.”

“Oh my-…”

He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”

“Ouch.”

“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.

“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”

“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.” 

“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion. 

You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.

He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.

“You can have the helmet.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi knows the ins and outs of your home.

He’s been at your house too much to the point that your mom already gave him a spare key and nobody batted an eye about it. He has his own designated slippers at the entryway too, something you would only use in a hurry if you needed to sign off on a package.

Yoongi, for some reason unfathomable (not really; you can tell exactly why because your mom is an extremely warm and inviting person), also has the power of dibs on the food in your fridge. He’d put strips of masking tape with his name on food that’s neither brought in nor made for him in the first place. 

It should be off-putting — the way that for too many yet too little reason, Yoongi has become a prominent figure in your life even if you didn’t ask him to. You should be peeved that you have to set up four plates more often that you set up only three; you should be annoyed at some point that when you wake up at random times through the night, you’re not totally alone to begin with.

You shouldbe angry at Yoongi to a degree because he’s in your life and you don’t get to have a say on how he stays in it. The only problem is that you’re not, and probably never will.

“Can’t sleep?” you mutter as you look up from your strikingly clear paper, seeing Yoongi strut across the floor with a casualness that only real occupants of the house should supposedly possess. He has his brows furrowed at you as if he didn’t expect to see you in your living room, scratching his head in wonder.

“Why are you up?”

“Stressed,” you sigh, giving up altogether in attempting to make yourself look busy. Yoongi drives by your fridge to get himself a can of beer, finally seating himself beside you on the floor. 

“Stressed about what? I’m sure it’s not about studying,” he snorts, unsurprised at your paper and the clear lack of motivation behind it. You only roll your eyes at him and he has half a mind to not remind you to not do it so much, the frown in your face reminding him that you really were frustrated.

It is you to throw the occasional tantrum, but he remembers that it was only when you were young; when Namjoon would whisper gibberish to his ear and purposely not whisper to yours just so he could tease you, or when nobody would believe that you taught yourself how to ride a bike with no training wheels. You didn’t know how to do the latter at all, but what had made you throw a tantrum was that nobody believed you.

You notice Yoongi’s digs, of course. You notice each one of his more than unsubtle nods to your intelligence and whatnot, the shots at your intellect not flying over your head like he expected them to.  You admit that you’ve never been that scholastic; you weren’t born a genius and you don’t try exactly hard either.

Yoongi’s only joking but you can’t help but to think that he’s pertaining to something deeper, his constant digs at your lack of a passion making you sluggish.

“We have to write this essay,” you answer simply, your tone straightforward and unwilling for banter but Yoongi bites anyway.

“But essays are the easiest,” he trails, looking at you the whole time as he takes a sip of his beer.

You exhale heavily because no matter what, he just can’t seem to get it. Yoongi knows where you’re coming from but he doesn’t know where you’re headed. As a matter of fact, you don’t know where you’re headed either. “We have to write an essay about where we see ourselves ten years from now.”

“But that’s still easy.”

“If it’s so easy, then go write it for me,” you snicker, leaning back with a huff. He constantly undermines you and although you own up to your striking mundaneness from time to time, it didn’t mean that you liked being looked down on. Yoongi’s too used to you being yourself, he gets taken aback when you grow sick of your own.

He gathers all his willpower, far from being sleepy unlike you who would’ve been lulled to sleep if only you weren’t dead-set on arguing with him. “You know what? I actually will,” he claps, handing you his beer. “Go hold this for me.”

Yoongi grips your pen for dear life like you hold his beer, his hand warm as he works from sheer determination alone (he’s not competing with anyone except for whatever expectation you have for him and your paper), while yours was cold just holding his drink.

You’ve been so quiet that he actually gets curious, turning his head to check to see if you’ve dozed off when actually, it’s just you eyeing the can.

“No one’s watching,” Yoongi breaks you out of your thoughts, carelessly shrugging. He cares and he’s far too concerned for you, but he figures that nothing would hurt you so long as he can grasp you. “It’s okay. You can have your first sip.”

You blink owlishly at him and when he jokes about taking it back, you take your first swig of beer in a panic. Yoongi only shakes his head in amusement, pausing his writing just to see the look on your face.

“One more?” he asks right after he sees you wince, the unbearable sweetness yet bitter, stinging aftertaste of the beer making you shudder. 

You have the urge to wash off the taste with ice cold water (you’ll even drink from the tap because you’re so desperate), but you resist it just so you wouldn’t look like a weakling in front of him. You wave him off with a bitterness, upset that beer doesn’t taste like what you’ve always imagined it to be. “Just write my essay for me,” you mull over the taste in your tongue, in deep thought while you stare at Yoongi’s back ahead of you. “Do all beers taste that way?”

“Eh. Most of them do. You develop a taste for it later on,” he answers, taking the can back from you before drinking it himself. He looks too dedicated in writing your essay, only goading the curiosity in you to peek over his shoulder.

He knows you, both in heart and memory, because he shields your own paper from you when he sees your shadow hovering above him.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm.”

“I told you why I’m up. Why are you up?”

He’s silent entirely, the only indication that he heard your question being his hand pausing abruptly. Yoongi doesn’t answer, and you don’t ask again. “Don’t worry about it.”

You take his answer to heart, dozing off on the couch before you know it. You don’t remember a blanket being placed on you, nor can you remember preparing your backpack for school the next day.

Your paper’s neatly tucked into your portfolio bearing handwriting that’s clearly not yours, but with a sentiment that’s similar nonetheless. You read through everything quickly before even stepping towards your teacher, the tips of your fingers just as cold as Yoongi’s beer last night.

You’ve committed the paper into your memory, even until the last part with an excerpt you can’t forget despite having passed the paper already. You don’t know what to feel because it’s Yoongi who’s speaking for you, detailing that ten years from now, you will still be your mother’s daughter and your brother’s sister.

He wrote your essay either for you or in behalf of you, and you can’t tell which one is better.

Yoongi, who knows the ins and outs of your home and the peaks and troughs of your heart, writes in clear handwriting — Ten years from now, I will still be Yoongi’s rock.

( ♡ )

Surprisingly, Yoongi hasn’t been around that much lately.

Even Namjoon (who you consider as his Siamese twin) is clueless to why his friend hasn’t been hanging out with him lately to do either everything or nothing, confused because they’re enrolled to the same classes all the way to the same part-time jobs, yet Yoongi’s been mostly unavailable.

When Yoongi is, however, he doesn’t speak at all about his previous absences. He comes as if he’s never disappeared a few times before that, his evasion to talk about his presence being apparent even if you’ve asked him directly.

You’re getting used to his new routine of hanging out with you only when the both of you are free, no longer moving mountains for both of your schedules to line up. He’s more present this month than he was at the last, the criteria for it being how many times you bump into him in your own home.

Despite all odds and evens though, Yoongi can’t get used to your silence. He knows you hold grudges longer than your brother, and the last time that he checked, he knows you’ve already let go of your annoyance for him suddenly being unavailable without any explanation. 

It’s late, only the two of you are awake in the living room, there’s ten scratch tickets on the table for you to share, and he’s even gotten you your own glass to which he’ll put a controlled amount (a grand total of two long sips) of his own beer in. You’re not stressing about an essay this time, but the unconscious pout on your face is still the same.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

The frown on your face only goes deeper at being found out, the scratch of your lucky coin being the only clear thing that Yoongi hears. 

“My best friends want to have this slumber party,” you sigh, more upset about what you’ve just uttered than you are happy about the cash prize you’ve just won.

Yoongi takes what you say at face-value, groaning at his third straight loss for the night. “That’s great. Wear cute pajamas, snap a couple of polaroids, don’t be the first to fall asleep and last to wake up, and just keep a pocket knife with you when you’re going out by yourself.” 

The awe (and slight concern) over what he said should roll in any time now.

You should be comforted at Yoongi’s words because they’re supposed to ease the swirl of your stomach, even if what he just said is a repackaged version of what your family said before. You should let go of your worries because Yoongi, of all people, says that it’s supposed to be great.

Instead, you feel neither of what you think Yoongi wants you to.

“Was it something I said?” he mumbles after some time, turning his nose up at you as he tries to retrace his words. “I have an extra pocket knife you can borrow if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’re gonna be talking about boys, Yoongi,” you screw your eyes shut, sighing into the palms of your hands with a heaviness. “We’re gonna talk about crushes and experiences and all that.”

He shudders at that, his reaction mirroring Namjoon’s when you tried opening up to him. You get your brother’s reaction to a degree, of course, because you feel as if you’d be disgusted too if the roles were reversed. You want to talk about it with your mom too, but at the end of the day, she’s your parent and you just can’t talk about anything and everything with her. 

Yoongi’s your next plausible option.

“Do you want some ice cream right now? You know what, I’ll buy you-…” Yoongi tries to evade the topic altogether, his attempt of escaping feeble as you drag him down by his hoodie.

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

“Heh.”

Yoongi shrugs at that, regaining his words when you deadpan at him. “So? What about it?”

You starfish on the floor at that out of frustration, the whine you’ve been bottling up coming out in the open because as usual, Yoongi doesn’t get it. “I-I’m probably the only one in my grade who hasn’t kissed someone yet! I can’t just lie carelessly because obviously, they’ll ask around.”

“So?” Yoongi chuckles, his breeze towards your state shocking you. “What’s it to them if you haven’t had your first kiss?”

“You don’t get it,” you grit through your teeth, crossing your arms so hard that it feels hard to inhale.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he sing-songs, drinking the last of his beer. When you’re not looking though, he plans to either drink or chuck the remainder of your share because he doesn’t want you to develop a taste for it.

The anger you have for Yoongi bubbles up once again, the itch in your throat unbearable. You’re presented with the age gap between you once more, along with the raging emptiness in you that Yoongi’s reached so far and you’ve reached so little.

“You don’t get it because you’ve had all of these experiences when you were younger than my age right now,” you snap, although you don’t look at him when you do. If you do look at him though, you’ll only be reminded of how a face like his could have everything in this world — even a first kiss you’ve never had.

“Yeah, and so?” he knits his brows, growing defensive. You weren’t lying at all, but he still feels a little offended at the dig. He’s not not proud of it, but with the way you say it, it’s like you want him to burn in shame,

“Stop saying so,” you angrily mumble in frustration, a little breathless because you still don’t ease up on crossing your arms.

Yoongi straightens his posture, staring you down with his jaw set. He’s stern as he is, nostrils flaring in irritation. “No, Y/N. I’m genuinely asking — so what? What’s it to you if I had my first kiss at a younger age? What about it if everyone else in your grade has kissed someone and you haven’t? It’s not the end of the world.”

“I-I don’t know! It’s just unfair!” you let up, yielding to both the facts that Yoongi’s right with it not being the end of the world, and that you’re still entitled to feeling upset.

“Instead of spending time obsessing over your first kiss, maybe I don’t know,  try being productive? You’re heading to college soon and you haven’t even thought of a career,” Yoongi goes off on you, making you roll your eyes automatically. There he goes again with the great big push of trying to push you into your supposed passions in life. “Someone else’s luck doesn’t mean it’s already your misfortune.”

“But it is.”

You say it so definitively, you almost convince him. You have your principles and so does Yoongi, but not everyone else. You have your principles yet you don’t have the luck. You’re not getting anywhere in life just like Yoongi or anyone else who was remotely born into wealth, no matter how quiet or obvious.

You can’t pursue something that interests you in the slightest without thinking what would come out of it. You can’t think of a degree and a course you’ll stick with, enough to do for the rest of your life because the only other option is to fail completely if you don’t. You have no plan and no passion and you don’t know if you’ll ever amount to anything to anyone at all.

By all means, you don’t agree with Yoongi this time. Someone else’s luck is your misfortune, in the same way that his first kiss doesn’t mean that it’s yours.

The sidetrack to your argument is a closed case already, judging by your downcast gaze. “I just have to put myself out there, that’s all. My first kiss doesn’t even have to mean anything. I just want to have it,” you admit, shoulders relaxing.

“Don’t,” Yoongi groans, the opposite of you as his whole body tenses.

He thinks that you don’t get him at all.

“What do you meandon’t?”

Your argument’s long-over (atleast you thought it was) but Yoongi’s getting more agitated by the minute, the disbelief on his face throwing you off. “Don’t do things just because you feel like you have to! Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“I don’t want to be left behind, Yoongi! That’s all I’m trying to get at,” you raise your hands in surrender, shrugging thoughtlessly — it makes him want yell into a paper bag in exasperation. “I don’t want to be picked last. I don’t want to not be wanted.”

Yoongi exhales, screwing his eyes shut. It stays silent like that for a little while; him calming himself down, and you scratching your tickets. The calm doesn’t stay for long because you open your mouth carelessly, again.

“Can you be my first kiss?”

“Are you insane?”

“Ugh.”

You go back to your fourth scratch ticket, pouting in disappointment. You’re unfazed about the win that’s probably the largest sum you’ve had ever since you started doing the lottery.

You’re upset and you’re sick in the stomach but you stay silent like you never asked Yoongi to be your first kiss; it’s like you haven’t indirectly admitted to him that you love him enough, more than so, to want him to be your first.

You’re about to scratch the final ticket when Yoongi juts his hand out, fingers barely brushing yours to stop you.

“On second thought, don’t scratch that. Just keep it.”

“Because you want to turn me into a hoarder too?” you snicker, heeding his suggestion regardless.

“Because I’m not going to be right about everything,” Yoongi mumbles, looking at you with a solemnness you can’t decipher.

You try until the solemnness turns into pity.

“Still don’t want to be my first kiss?”

Yoongi softly laughs to your face, smiling as he lets you down — whether easily or harshly, you can’t tell.

“You already know what I’m going to say.”

( ♡ )

You’d like to think that you’re not kept in the dark about most things.

You already know that although your mom hasn’t had any relationships since your dad left, she still has plenty of suitors. Some of them are the reason why you have random food deliveries in the middle of the dinner that she’s already cooked, some have sucked up to her by getting you and Namjoon gifts. 

You know about Namjoon’s growing love for football, even with the lessons he takes in secret because he didn’t want to trouble your mom for the money. It’s why he does his part-time job and why you’re looking for one anyways. You don’t want nor need much, so you almost always give him the remainder of your allowance by the end of each week.

Yoongi, on the other hand, you don’t know much about. You know that he’s an only child with a doting mom who works overseas and a rich but emotionally unavailable dad at home, and that’s about it. His home life is synonymous with yours, considering that your four walls have become an extension of his.

Maybe you’ve become too lenient on him — either that, or he’s become too disrespectful. It’s at times like these where your house is not his home, sickeningly so that you don’t want it to be yours either.

Yoongi is a sight to behold as he makes out with a half-naked girl on your bed, in your room. Your room has never been the neatest but with everything going on, it feels that it’s become the dirtiest that it’s ever been. Your house slippers are on the floor even if you always leave them by the entryway, and your sheets are a mess despite being one of the only things you try to keep folded in the room.

You’re angry, too much to the point that the words get caught in your throat. They catch onto bile and venom and everything at once, the strain in your voice heard when you yell.

“What the fuck?!”

Yoongi and the girl, whom you figure out to be Hyewon that he’s shared his first kiss with, jolt in unison. Hyewon’s scared shitless while Yoongi’s annoyed to death, the grunt he lets out pricking your ears further. “Sorry, sorry. She’s my best friend’s sister. She’s so annoying,” he drags you out of your room before he even gives you the entitlement to storm out of there in a fit of rage, seeing red the longer that he seems upset at you.

“What the fuck was that, Yoongi?” you grit through your teeth, the moment of you seeing red turn into white because you’re so frustrated that you could actually cry. Your chest’s heavy, not only out of rage, but out of everything that’s built up in the course of years.

“Can you keep it down?” Yoongi seethes, pursing his lips. “What, would you rather see us do it in the living room?”

“In the — what? Who do you think you are? This isn’t even your house, why are you bringing these girls here?” you point an accusing finger at him yet he doesn’t back away, his annoyance for you only growing tenfold.

He’s in the wrong no matter which way you look at it yet he doesn’t realize it, the epiphany that Yoongi genuinely thinks he’s in the right for doing this to you making your skin burn in fire.

“This is literally the first time I’ve ever done this! I can’t bring her back to my place, my dad has guests over!”

“So your smartest idea is to fuck someone in my bed?”

“Oh, you’re welcome. It’s the most action your four walls have ever seen,” he spits sarcastically, eyes narrowing at you. It takes little effort for him to dig up what you came to him for in worry and it terrifies you. The facet of Yoongi who had sternly told you that it was okay to be left behind if it means getting what you deserve, resembling nothing like him at the moment.

“I can’t believe you!” you whisper as you tremble, the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I told you that in confidence.”

“In confidence? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not exactly a catch, Y/N.”

You clench your jaw so hard that it hurts, you ball your fists so tightly that it stings.

You leave your home without saying another word.

.

.

.

Namjoon’s panicked.

He came home a little later than usual because he had maximized the life out of his soccer lessons, only getting the signal to leave when the lights were turned off. He was only slightly worried at the first place because he was supposed to cook dinner for the both of you, but he placated himself by realizing that you’re not the baby that he still thinks you are — you could cook dinner for yourself if you were hungry already.

He thinks nothing of it. In fact, he just makes a quick stop at the convenience store so the both of you could indulge in a liter of ice cream without your mom urging to leave some for another night. You could think of a recipe from scratch (and it almost always works out at the end), so Namjoon walked in fully thinking he’ll get to sniff whatever concoction you have.

Except, he walks into a completely dark house, and that’s when he panics.

He can’t find your slippers by the entryway and you’re not in your room either. You’re not at the other convenience store hunched over taking your chances on scratch tickets, and you’re not out on the street either going people-watching.

The panic rises in him the more that Namjoon grasps this is the first time that this has ever happened and he doesn’t know why. He’s always made an effort to be absorbed into both your personal and academic affairs, and as far as he knows, you’re neither in a sleepover nor on a field trip somewhere.

Namjoon thinks it’s his fault someway somehow, and the guilt can’t fully dissipate from him until he sees you.

“Hey, Yoongi,” he breathlessly gasps the moment his friend answers, the latter being surprised because he thought it was you who was calling him after what happened awhile ago.

It’s his fault and he’s realized that hours too late, and the selfish part of him thinks that it’s you calling at ten in the evening begging for forgiveness.

“What’s up, man? It’s late,” he wonders out loud, thinking for a second if they were too much of the Siamese twins that you tease them to be because he can’t think of a rational reason why Namjoon would call him at this time of night.

Namjoon raggedly exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just wondering if you’ve seen Y/N by any chance?”

Yoongi’s heart drops so loudly that Namjoon thought for second that his friend had hung up on him, his urgency being shared the moment that he asked.

“What? Y/N isn’t home?” Yoongi asks in disbelief, immediately being filled with anxiety and disbelief. Just awhile ago, the two of you were arguing outside of your room. He did hear you leave, but he had fully expected for you to be back hours ago. He’s wracked with guilt all over, the drop in his chest amplified by the pit in his stomach.

“She’s not. Practice ran late and I-I know she’s responsible so I didn’t hurry home,” Namjoon recalls, being more and more frazzled by the second. “She left her phone here, and mom isn’t here either because she’s visiting my grandparents, a-and I don’t want to call her because I know she’ll be worried, a-and-…”

Yoongi interrupts him, the tremble in his fingers only enabling him to dig his nails into his palm deeper. “I’m coming over. Let’s look for her together.”

It barely takes a minute for the both of them to come together, not even exchanging any pleasantries with each other before Yoongi steps on the gas. 

Namjoon’s filled with guilt, the type that only a sibling could carry as a burden. He thinks he was too selfish — too accustomed to pulling your own weight that it must have given you the impression that you had no other choice but to. Whatever it was that made you leave out of the blue, Namjoon thinks he could’ve done more. He should’ve came home and made you dinner as promised, for starters. He’s guilty over the fact that he’s the only close familial male figure in your life and he let this happen, as he makes Yoongi put his headlights on high-beam, scanning for anyone that looks remotely like you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, is filled with a guilt he can’t even begin to explain. It corrodes him from the inside-out in realization that he’s to blame for your sudden disappearance, the fact that Namjoon comes to him first to help find you not helping at all. If only your brother knew what he had done to you, he’s positive that he’ll be on the receiving end of a punch — what gets him more is that Yoongi wouldn’t blame him at all.

They see you in the bus stop two cities away, dressed in the same clothes you ran out with. 

Namjoon’s relieved beyond compare while Yoongi’s fuming, his hands tucked inside his jacket to prevent himself from squeezing you into an embrace; neither of you deserve it. 

There’s an underlying anger within Namjoon, one that lies behind the back of his throat as he checks you over for any injuries. The two of you walk ahead to Yoongi’s car while he himself trails behind, his heart significantly calmer than it was the past hour, yet nowhere near normal.

“Wanna tell me what you did?” your brother hums, trying to exhale the worry that’s embedded into him with each squeeze he gives around your shoulders.

“Went to the convenience store, bumped into my friends, then we took this impromptu roadtrip to go to the night market, then we all had our first actual shot of liquor and not just beer, my friend who owns the car turned out to be a lightweight, and now everyone just has to commute home,” you narrate in recollection, squeezing Namjoon back to try and ground him.

“Okay,” he answers simply, nodding. “Wanna tell me what happened before you did all those things?”

The breathless chuckle that leaves you is empty, void of any amusement at all. You smile nonetheless, unable to placate both yourself and Namjoon. “Nope.”

You arrive in silence to Yoongi’s car, the words unsaid between the three of you generating more tension than your brief disappearance itself.

Yoongi opens the front door for you, but you settle for sitting in the backseat.

#HOW R WE FEELING TARGET AUDIENCE!!! :O #yoongi imagine #yoongi oneshot #yoongi oneshots #yoongi series #yoongi angst #yoongi angst imagine #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi au #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #bts yoongi imagine #bts yoongi x reader

[janeyseymour]

hi i love ur writings so so much i’m so sorry this idea is rushed but i hope its enough

abbot family is trying to encourage melissa to “get back out there” and meet people after everything she’s been through. she brushes them off constantly until they stage an intervention during lunch and even barb is concerned for her work wife. melissa leaves this lunch with some big feelings because little does everyone know melissa has been seeing someone this whole time. comes home to reader smoking a joint while cooking in the kitchen and reader says something along the lines of “you look like you could use this more than me” and they make a plan together to introduce reader to everyone at a 4th of july bbq

you gonna get what you ask for 🤪 Not edited in the slightest. I got places to be and people to see

Intervention

WC: ~2.35k

It’s been a year and a half since Melissa Schemmenti publicly said no to a marriage proposal. A year and a half since the fiery redhead had gone out with anyone, and she really doesn’t have any plans to start dating again- at least that’s what the Abbott crew thinks.

The truth is, the second grade teacher has been seeing you since the night she went to the casino and bar to blow off some steam after reuniting with Gary to return his things and get her stuff back.

You were at one of the slot machines when the redhead passed by you, laughing.

“What’s so funny, Red?” you asked as you looked up at her.

“You ain’t gonna win no money that way,” the woman stopped in her tracks to tell you. “C’mon. Let me show you how it’s done.”

That night, you stuck by her side as you watched her win thousands of dollars at one table alone, clearing out quite a few men.

It’s late when she finally threw in the towel. She offered to walk you out to you car, and you took her hand in your own.

“So,” you exhaled a small cloud of smoke from the cigarette the two of you were sharing. “What are you gonna do with all that money you just won, pretty lady?”

“Take you out on a date,” Melissa had replied cooly. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven?”

Neither of you looked back.

That was a year and three months ago. While your side of the family knew of your relationship with the teacher (and they absolutely adore her), her crew doesn’t have a single clue of your existence or rather large presence in Melissa’s life- despite the fact that you were now living together and your lives were intertwined.

So whenever anyone at Abbott tells Melissa that they found someone they think she might fancy, she just brushes them off.

“Janine, no offense, but if you think someone is worth dating, I would find them to be-”

“Hey,” Gregory cuts her off.

Melissa just shrugs. “My case in point. Greg, you know I love you like the black son I never had, but you’re boring as hell.”

“Ava, I am not about to go clubbing with you to pick up a man fifteen years my junior,” the redhead rolls her eyes.

“C’mon,” the principal chuckles. “They fun! They’re like energizer bunnies.”

“I barely have the energy to stand and get the remote from the other side of the room,” Melissa retorts as she opens her bottle of iced tea.

“I think you would like him!” Jacob pleads. “He saw your picture and said you were fine.”

“I am fine,” Melissa states, gesturing to her figure. “And I’m just as fine without a partner.”

It’s gotten to the point that even Barbara is concerned about her friend’s adamant denial to get herself back out there. So, the day that Melissa has recess duty, she brings it up to her coworkers.

“Now listen, I am not usually one for meddling in someone else’s love life, but don’t you think it’s concerning that Melissa flat out refuses to even attempt to put herself back out there?” the kindergarten teacher asks to the faculty room.

“Weird as hell,” Ava waltzes in, but having heard the question decides to chime in. “But aye, good for Schemmenti, realizing she don’t need no man in life.”

“I just find it odd…” Barbara taps her chin. “Melissa, while one with a tough exterior, loves love. She’s always wanted someone to spend her time with.”

“Maybe we should stage an intervention,” Jacob suggests. “To really show her that she’s good and healed from the failed proposal and to get back out there.

Gregory looks mildly impressed with that suggestion. “That might work.”

They have no idea that the entire time she’s supposed to be out monitoring the children on the blacktop, she’s smiling down at her phone like an idiot talking to you.

And when she comes home that day, she fully goes through with the things you two had texted about earlier.

The Abbott crew plans an intervention for Melissa- a banner, letters, all of it. When she comes into the staff room, smiling down at a midday text you had sent her, the rest of her colleagues are standing by the couch, looking somber.

“Fuck. Who died?” Melissa’s smile drops immediately.

“No one died, Melissa,” Barbara states.

“But we think a part of you might have,” Janine says dramatically, somberly.

“What the hell are youse talkin’ about?” thee redhead rolls her eyes. 

“Melissa, dear,” Barbara says softly, calmly. She makes her way over to her friend and takes her by the hand to guide her towards the seat they had put in the middle of the room.

One by one, they read the letters that they had all written, expressing their concern for their favorite fiery Italian teacher.

“Melissa,” the kindergarten teacher finishes up. “We all love you dearly, and while we understand that it takes some time to get over the heartache that Gary caused, this is a bit extreme. We are worried.”

“An’ I appreciate the thought and care that you guys put into this,” Melissa tells them with a sigh. “But I promise youse: I’m fine. I don’t need to get back out there.” She almost adds on that it’s because she’s happily seeing someone, and has been since three months after her split from the guy that filled the vending machine.

“Just… know that we’re all here through all of your seasons,” Jacob tells her. “The good, the bad, and the ugly.”

“We do care about you,” Janine says softly, and she offers the redhead a hug. Melissa doesn’t necessarily want to embrace the shorter woman, but she goes into the arms of her colleague.

Gregory just gives her a nod that conveys his love for his coworker, to which she smirks and nods right back in his direction.

“Now, can we eat lunch?” the redhead chuckles.

As the day passes on, Melissa comes to realize just how much her coworkers care for her- their gesture, albeit absolutely ridiculous and dramatic, was heartfelt and full of love. Maybe she should just come clean about the relationship she’s in. Or she could just buy them all some Philly soft pretzels and soda instead to thank them. Yeah… that’s what she’ll do for now before she can talk to you about how the two of you want to go public about your being together.

She orders the pretzels to be delivered to the school before the day is done, and when everyone is reconvening back in the faculty room to grab their lunch bags before heading home, Melissa makes sure she’s the first one down there. She has the box on one of the tables, along with a some cans of soda. Whatever they don’t take, the redhead knows will be eaten and drank at home.

“Oi,” she calls to her friends. “Come get a pretzel and a soda as my thanks for carin’ about me so much.”

They all light up at the sight of the gesture, aside from Gregory.

“I do not like pretzels, or soda, and for that reason I will not take one,” the man says as his friends dive in. “But thank you.”

Melissa rolls her eyes. “I figured you would say that. Which is why I got you a bag of peanuts and a water.”

He looks mildly impressed and takes the offered items gratefully.

Once again, they all voice their love and care for the woman that gave them a salty treat before heading out for the night. Everyone except for Barbara. She waits for Melissa to clean up and gather her things before walking out with the woman.

“That was very sweet of you,” the kindergarten teacher nudges her friend.

Melissa huffs. “Oi. Don’t knock me like that.” She readjusts her grip on the small box of pretzels before sighing. “But it was just a thank you for caring.”

“We care about you a lot more than you know,” Barbara smiles. “And just so you know… you are a Philly eleven, and I do think you should get yourself back out there. I know it can be scary to put your heart back out there, but even if it ends in heartbreak and a few smashed in headlights, I will always be here to help you pick up the pieces.”

“I know, Barb,” the redhead says softly, so out of character. “Thank you.”

“Think about it!” the older woman says as she parts and heads off in the direction of her car.

With a sigh, Melissa unlocks her car and gets everything settled before slumping into the front seat.

Coming home with a treat, she texts you.

Is it you? You reply back.

She chuckles at that. She can practically see the smirk written on your face. You’ll see.

When she pulls in, she can smell you before she sees you. You’re clearing smoking, but she can also smell the delicious dinner that you’re making. 

The redhead makes her way into the house, deep in thought of how much her friends are looking out for her, and attempting to piece together how to approach you about the topic of coming out.

It’s odd. Your girlfriend makes her way into the kitchen and places the box of pretzels down, but she doesn’t make her way over to you the way that she usually does. Instead, she’s looking down at the food, brows furrowed and deep in thought. 

You turn the burner down to ensure that the food won’t burn or bubble over before making your way behind Melissa. You wrap the arm that isn’t holding the joint around her waist before holding it up to her lips and offering her some. Even in your somewhat inebriated state, you know something is up with her.

“You look like you could use this more than me,” you chuckle softly.

She shrugs, but does take a hit before blowing the smoke out.

“Hard day?” you ask her gently. “Need to be taken care of?”

Again, she shrugs. She doesn’t really know what to say. This is so unlike Melissa. Usually, she comes in huffing about the ridiculous antics of her boss, she bounces on her toes when she tells you the sweet things the kids had done or said, and she is more than willing to dish out the tea that was spilled in the staff lounge earlier that day.

“Mel?” you ask softly, taking a cheek in your hand and cupping it gently. You force her to look at you. “What happened today?”

She laughs softly, before full out cackling. This sudden change in mood startles you.

“Mel, babe, you’re scaring me,” you tell her. “What happened?”

She sits down and plucks the joint out of your hand. “The crew planned an intervention for me,” she tells you with a chuckle as you go back over to the stove.

You turn. “Oh?”

She nods, a playful smirk on her face.

“For?” you raise a brow. You turn your attention back to dinner. “Can I guess?”

“Sure, hun,” she laughs as she takes another drag.

  “The aggression that you email the parents with?” No. “The heeled boots hitting the linoleum tile too loudly when you’re pissed?” No. “The arson?” No. “The threats of a bare knuckle fist fight?”

“Jesus,” Melissa laughs. “When you list all of that out, I sound like a terrible person.”

“No,” you say quickly. “I love everything about you!”

“I know you do,” she chuckles. “But no. None of that.”

“Then what?”

“My love life.”

“Your love life?” you turn to look at her incredulously.

“My love life,” the redhead sighs. “They had a banner, they had letters, they had the chair in the middle of the room… everything. And for me. When I don’t even have a problem with my love life.”

“So why did you come in lookin’ all sad?”

“Not sad… just thoughtful. The things they said… it showed me how lucky I am to have coworkers that care for me as deeply as they do. So at the end of the day, I had pretzels for them to show my gratitude. And after, Barbara and I walked out together… and… how would you feel about telling people that we’re together?”

You finish stirring the food and plating it before bringing it over to the table where your girlfriend is sitting. You set the two dishes in front of her before sliding into her lap. You finish off the joint together before smiling.

“I’ve been ready,” you tell her. “I’ve just been waiting for you to be.”

“Yeah?” she asks you as she kisses your temple.

You nod before taking a bite of your dinner. Damn, between the two of you, you should open your own restaurant. “We’ve been together for over a year, living together since six months in, I don’t plan on going anywhere, and I would hope you don’t either. I think it’s time.”

“I think so too,” she says softly. “But with the end of the year comin’ up… we’re all crazy busy.”

“So we can organize something for after the school year?” you suggest. “Maybe a fourth of July barbecue?”

So that’s what the two of you do. Your girlfriend walks into school on the last day and tells her friends that she knows that don’t have anything going on for Fourth of July, and they better be at her house for a barbecue. They all look at her, clearly confused. No one- not even Barb- has been invited over to the house since Melissa and Gary broke up. Nevertheless, they don’t argue and all promise to be there.

They all come in one clump, and the faces that they make when you open the door draped around Melissa are priceless.

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N,” she says proudly. “The reason that I have been declining all of the people you’ve suggested I date, and the reason I have not ‘put myself back out there’. I don’t gotta when I have her.”

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

[axelsagewrites]

Daemon Targaryen*Lunch

Sugar Baby Series Part Two

Part one

Pairings: modern daemon x reader

Platonic: jace, cregan, Sara snow

Warnings: possessive daemon, daemon being a bit pretentious but nothing major

Word count: 4k

Masterlist Here

Call me when you quit – D.T.

You had told Sara all about the horror of your shift when she got home an hour after you and showed her the paper. “I mean he was hot,” she said as she handed you the paper back, “Couldn’t hurt,”

“But he said when I quit,” you said as you put it on the fridge with a magnet before returning to the sofa to drink your warm beer next to Sara, “Do you think its like a job thing?”

“I think it’s a sex thing,”

“Why do I need to quit to get laid?”

“Maybe he doesn’t fuck servers?” she said making you kick her with her foot, “Hey! He’s a Targaryen you know what they’re like,”

You rolled your eyes as you thought back to the horniest man you’ve ever met aka your ex-classmate Aegon Targaryen. “Yeah, well shut up. Heleana is nice, Aemond was before the whole manager thing- “

“Ugh don’t remind me,” she groaned as her head fell back, “Can’t believe I hooked up with him,”

You snorted at her expression, “Bet Jace cried when he found out,” you said, “Hey!” you whined, rubbing your shin that she’d kicked, “C’mon he’s a nice guy its not his fault he’s in love with you,”

“We’re just friends,”

“I’ve already booked off the wedding,” you smirked, moving quicker than her when she went to attack again. “However, one good thing happened tonight,” you said as you fished the money out your pocket that Daemon had gave you, “Dun dun dun,” you said as you waved the money in the air.

“No shit!” She said as she snatched it out your hands to count, “Dude is this all from that Daemon guy?”

“Yup,” you smirked as you snatched it back before grabbing the jar from under the sofa, “We made rent!”

“Woo!” Sara yelled as she jumped off the couch, “To another month of not being evicted!” Your cheers were shushed by your neighbour who banged on the ceiling with his brush, something you had grown used to since even walking past 10 pm was too loud for him, “Hey this means we’re like one shift short of next months rent,” Sara said as she ignored the banging to grab you both more beers.

“Are this what financial security feels like?” you laughed as you graciously took the bottle.

Sara laughed as she took her spot next to you again, “If you don’t call him I will,”

“Back off he’s my millionaire,” you laughed before taking another drink, “I’ll call him tomorrow, fuck it what’s the worst that can happen?”

“You get murdered?” she said making you glare, “Hey he might be rich but take pepper spray when you hook up,”

“Who says its for sex? Maybe it’s a job,”

“Yeah at a sexteraunt,” Sara snorted, “Ooo maybe he wants you to be his sugar baby,” the rest of the night was spent discussing the pros and cons of being a sugar baby and you kicking her several more times.

The next morning you woke up in the afternoon, thankful for your day off after a run of terrible shifts. Sara had left to hang out with her brother, and you were left to stare at the paper, your phone practically burning a hole in your pocket. “Fuck it,” you muttered as you punched in the number.

It rang and rang and just before it rang out and all hope was lost a deep voice answered the phone, “Hello?” Daemon said, sounded already so uninterested that you were close to hanging up.

“Hey um,” you began to choke out, pacing the room, “Its your server from last night. You chased me down to the bus stop and gave me your number,” you half laughed as you tried to sound calm.

“Oh yeah hi,” he said, his tone instantly perking, “So you quit?”

You bit your lip and tried not to groan, “Not just yet,” you said as you heard him sigh over the phone, “I want to know what im getting myself into before I make any big decisions that may affect my financial situation,” you said, throwing in any word you thought could make you sound smart.

“Sensible I suppose,” he said, and you swore you could hear his smirk, “You free for a late lunch and I’ll give you a rundown of my proposal?”

“Um yeah sure when?”

“30 minutes, the Red Keep on sixth street. You in?” he asked as you looked down at your stained pyjamas that smelled stronger than you’d like. Fuck it, you thought, before agreeing, already digging out some decent jeans out the hamper. “See you then love,” Daemon said before the phone clicked off.

“10-minute walk, 20 minutes to look like a person,” you muttered as you began to get dressed. You tried to keep it a semi casual vibe as you pulled on some dark jeans and borrowed one of Saras host button downs. She’d get over it. your hair was less manageable than your outfit, but you managed to at least brush it and wash your face, flinging on the lightest coating of makeup before you saw it had already been 20 minutes.

You quickly threw your shoes on and began running down the stairs as you pulled your leather jacket on. You jogged up to the restaurant, glancing in to see if he was there yet through the window when you noticed a black car pull up and you gulped when you saw Daemon step out and the car drive off.

He was in a lilac button up that seemed to perfectly match his eyes. It didn’t help that the sleeves were rolled up to display his forearms. His dress pants were clearly well fitted, and you couldn’t stop yourself checking out his tight ass. Hot was an understatement for the man. Somehow his dishevelled hair only added to the look.

He smirked when he saw you before raising an eyebrow, “Did you run here?”

“I live a couple blocks away, so I didn’t wanna be late,” you said as you stuck out a hand to shake.

If possible, he smirked wider as he took your hand expect instead of shaking it, he raised it to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly, “I would’ve sent a car if you asked,”

“Its alright,” you said as your face began to flush.

Daemon led the way in, instantly getting ushered over to a table and you both were handed menus. “Pick anything you like,” he said when he noticed your eyes scanning the prices first. “Technically it’s a company lunch,”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the fact even the rich liked to milk their own bosses even when its their older brother. After you had ordered Daemon leaned his arms on the table, his eyes gazing at you in a way your legs began to melt, “Tell me about yourself,” he said.

“Well, I’m- “you said as you started to rattle of your age and job experience, “And I plan on- “

“No,” Daemon said, raising a hand slightly, “tell me about you. not your jobs,”

You chuckled nervously, your eyes looking at the floor for a moment, “Well I have a roommate, Sara, she’s pretty funny when she wants to be but totally clueless. We moved into a little flat a few months ago when some stuff went down with my family and I ended up leaving college because of it all but that’s fine,” you said.

“What did you do in college?” he asked, and he seemed to be genuinely interested as he leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand.

The action alone made you almost blush, “Well it was prelaw, but it wasn’t what I wanted to do,”

“Well, what do you wanna do?” he asked.

“I want to become a writer,” you said as the server brought the food over and you thanked him with a warm smile before turning back to Daemon, “I never have time for it anymore with work but its my dream. I’ve always liked writing. Saras probably sick of hearing about all my ideas,”

“Tell me instead then,” for the rest of lunch you rattled on to Daemon about all your ideas and plans and he listened intently, asking questions and agreeing with your plans. “Seems like you have it all figured out,” he said as you both came to the end of your food.

“Yeah but no time, you get me?” you said, and Daemon agreed as he ordered himself a coffee, “Why did you want me to call you though?” you sheepishly asked the question you had been wondering all lunch. “You can’t really expect me to quit my job for one lunch date?”

Daemon chuckled at your questions, “Well darling I have a proposal,” he said as the waiter brought his coffee and he thanked him, “I’ve been traveling nearly every other day for the past seven years, it can get lonely. I’m sure with your work schedule you understand,” he said, and you nodded, folding your arms as a pit grew in your stomach that Sara was right, “In a way you would be working for me but don’t think of it as work. It would be dinners mostly, a gala here or there when I have to attend which I rarely do. Company really is all and of course I would compensate for your time,” he said as he began to sip on his coffee.

“I’m not a prostitute,” you rushed out before even thinking making Daemon choke on his coffee.

He quickly began to rush out an apology as the once composed man tried to steady himself, “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression,” he began to rush out as he cleaned up the coffee he had spilt with a napkin. At least he isn’t a dick to server like his sister-in-law you thought. “We wouldn’t be having sex. Well of course if the time came and we both wanted we’d talk about it but- “Daemon ranted before finally composing himself. “Do I make more sense now?” he asked.

“So, I’d be like a sugar baby?” you asked looking at the table as you tried to take this in.

“If that’s what you prefer to call it, then yes,” Daemon said. You paused for a moment to try think this all through. “I don’t need an answer today but I’m free tomorrow night. I’ve got a table for two booked at The Highgarden’s tomorrow at seven. Think about it. and if you decide not to its no pressure,”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, finally looking up from the table, “You have to understand this is all a bit overwhelming,”

“Its alright,” Daemon said as he placed his hand over yours and giving it a gentle squeezed. You missed his touch as soon as he took it back to take the bill off the server. “You don’t owe me anything after all, we’re strangers, but you can’t blame me for wanting to be more,” he said as he placed enough cash in the check to cover the bill twice over. great tipper, brownie points. “After all, you look amazing even after your little run,” he smiled, and you knew your blush was showing. “I’ve got to get back to work love but if you need anything just call doll,” the nickname made it hard to stutter your goodbye. “For your troubles,” Daemon said as he placed an envelope on the table before walking out to the car that just pulled up.

You waited till the moment he closed the car door that had just pulled up for him to pull out your phone as you left the restaurant. Sara picked up on the first ring, “Oh my god you were right code red we need to talk,”

“We’re at Cregan’s get your ass over here and tell me everything!”

Within half an hour you were sat on Cregan’s sofa spilling everything that had just happened to him, Sara, and Jace, Cregan’s roommate. Jace was a really rich really oblivious kid who had everything paid for by his parents, but he was that normal than him being rich didn’t matter. “So, you’re going right?” Sara asked as she moved to sit on the arm on the couch, feet in Jaces lap who blushed bright red. She was holding the money Daemon had left you, counting it again to double check she wasn’t crazy.

“Is this guy even legit?” Cregan in his older brotherness questioned, “Is it safe?”

“This man has already paid our rent three times I say what could a month hurt?” Sara said grinning as her brother leaned over you to slap her head. “You’re just mad he didn’t pick you,”

“I’m not gay,” Cregan rolled his eyes resulting on all three of you giving a very convincing and drawn out suuure. “

Jace had finally managed to stop blushing and join the conversation, “What’s his name again?” he asked and suddenly it dawned on you.

“Daemon Targaryen,” you said, cringing as you spoke when Jace realised his uncle was trying to pimp you out.

Jace rolled his eyes with an over emphasized sigh, “Of course it is,” he groaned, “He’s a good guy even if this is insanely weird. But he won’t stiff you,”

“Yet,” Sara smirked resulted in several grosses.

“So, he won’t murder me in a dark alley?” you asked.

Jace shook his head, “He’s surprisingly cooled all things considered. He’s a bit eccentric but so’s everyone in my family. plus, then this way I won’t be alone at family reunion!” he said, instantly perking up.

“Oh my god no,” you dreaded to think how Alicent would be at a private event.

“Bestie not that I’m trying to whore you out,” Sara said as she handed you the money back, “but you’re broke. Like broke broke. Like eat cold food out a can on a Thursday broke,”

You groaned as you looked down at the money in your lap, “I suppose one date can’t hurt,” especially when its with one of the hottest men you’ve met, but you waited till Jace was gone before discussing his uncle’s ass.

Sara had insisted on shopping for a nice dress for your date. To be fair she was probably right. Your clothes ranged from your server uniform to pyjamas to the one club dress you owned and somehow you didn’t think they’d let you in under that dress code. Half the money from today’s envelope went to your outfit, something you dreaded at first, but you had to admit felt nice as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

“I’m so borrowing that at some point,” Sara said as she zipped you into the red dress. It was a red knee length dress, but it was that tight that all modesty the length gave it was lost, “Damn you look good,” Sara said as she watched you admire yourself.

“Thanks,” you said as you rolled your eyes and grabbed your purse. Daemon had text you earlier asking for an address for the car to pick you up and after insisting you didn’t need it, he sent it anyway. “And you can only borrow it for your date with Jace,”

“Hmm don’t tempt me,” she teased as she helped you clasp the necklace, she’d lent you. “Look at my baby all grown up,” she faked tears up as she looked over you one last time.

“Fuck off,” you laughed when your phone buzzed.

Outside darling. Be safe – D

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the way he signed off his text, “I gotta go. If im not home by 12 I’ve been murdered,”

“Don’t get blood on the dress,” Sara grinned as she practically pushed you out the door, “And oh bring home any leftovers I heard the food basically melts in your mouth,”

You laughed at your roommate before rushing down the stairs, doing your best to get past your nosey neighbour without being questioned. The shiny black Benz stood out like a pretty thumb in this ugly street. Daemon stood beside the door to the car and his eyes looked you up and down as you walked out the building, “How’d you know reds my favourite colour?” he asked, eyes still glued to your figure.

You laughed as you walked up to him, “Lucky guess? My roommate made me get it,”

“Tell Sara she has great taste,” even your last boyfriend hadn’t remembered her name for the first month, “You look wonderful darling,” Daemon said as opened the door for you, “Ladies first,”

“Thank you,” you said as you took his hand and Daemon helped you into the car, you quickly thanking the driver for the ride.

Daemon was chuckling when he slid in his side but said nothing and just nodded at the driver who started the car. “I hoped I gave you enough for the dress,” Daemon said as the car turned out of your street.

“More than enough,” you said as you felt the fabric, still obsessed with how it felt on you, “But Sara insisted I get something fancy for this place plus this feels way better than my other dresses”

Daemon laughed lightly as he took in your smile, “You could show up in a sack and you’d still look the best in the room,” he said, and you tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “May I?” he asked, gesturing his hand over the fabric and you nodded, looking down to hide your flush as he felt the fabric over your thigh, “Feels nice,” he said, his hand still resting on your thigh making your stomach flip and the butterflies toss and turn.

“Thanks,” you said, not moving his hand as you continued to chat during the ride. Oddly enough despite most rich people feeling alien to you and usually pompous the conversation just seemed to flow effortlessly. Before arriving, daemon had asked to keep your arrangement under wraps to which you quickly agreed.

Daemon insisted on opening the door for you as you got out the car and wrapped his arm around your waist as he led you to the host. “Welcome Mr Targaryen and a date I see,” The host greeted him like an old friend, “and a very pretty one,” he added with a laugh. Daemon smiled but you felt his grip tighten around your waist, “right this way,”

You thanked the host as you sat down and took the menu off him, “There’s no prices,” you said, face scrunching with confusion.

“Don’t worry about the money love,” Daemon smiled as he glanced over the menu, “You’re worth every penny,”

Daemons sweet talking and flirting continued through the night. There was no awkward “what do you do” or “I heard you liked xyz” it was as if you already knew everything you needed and had started on date three.

The food was far superior to you had been used to. The three-course meal was a far step up from the McDonald’s saver menu. When you told Daemon what Sara had said about the to go box, he ordered a fresh salmon to be boxed up for her when you finished your meal, “You don’t have to do that,”

“She can consider it a thank you for that dress,” he said, that same sly smirk toying on his lips. “So did you quit that shit hole yet?” he asked as he sipped his 3rd coffee.

You cringed slightly at the question, “Look im all for this arrangement, it’s actually been pretty fun, but im not gonna give up my independence just like that. I’ve been working way to hard to just give up,” you started your mini rant, fully prepared for Daemon to stop you or make demands but he only seemed to laugh and smile at your determination. “What?” you finally asked.

“Nothing its just cute to see you riled up,” he said, sipping his coffee while you regained your composure, “You don’t have to quit your job, if anything I admire your attitude but I wish you worked somewhere that valued you more,” he said, placing his hand over yours and running his thumb over your hand, “Besides you need the time if you want to get serious about your writing,”

“I suppose,” you said, gnawing at your lip as you mulled it over, “Maybe I could do part time then write on the side and see you as well,”

“Sounds like a plan doll,” he said, and you rolled your eyes with a smile, “What?” he laughed, “Do you prefer love? Darling perhaps? Princess, sugar, pumpkin,” he began listing off names.

“Dolls fine,” you laughed, “Any of them. You’re paying after all,” you joked and for a moment he got serious.

“Just because I give you money doesn’t mean you can’t be yourself. Never give yourself up for a job. I did that. Seven years I’ve been wasting away on planes and cars. I’ve been back here for one week and I already feel more like myself,” Daemon seemed to be full of life advice and business tips.

By the end of dinner, you were tipsy on the finest Dornish wine you’d ever drank and amazed at the deal you had lucked out on. Daemon wouldn’t let you see the bill when he gave the server his card, but you knew it was far from cheap. He walked you to the waiting car, smile plastered on his face as he laughed at your crude joke. “You really are a little minx,” he said as he helped you into the car.

“Sometimes,” you grinned as he climbed in the other side.

When the driver asked where to Daemon turned his head to you, “Where do you wanna go?” he asked, his eyes looking deep into yours.

You looked at the time on the dash, 1120. You had practically stayed till the restaurant closed. You turned to the driver to give him your address, “Saras expecting me soon. She’ll think I got murdered if Im not home,” you half joked to Daemon.

“That’s alright love,” he said as he took your hand, placing a kiss to the back of it, “Your company is all I need,” you half wondered if he was disappointed, the other half wondering if you’d regret not going with him.

When you pulled up outside the apartment you turned to Daemon. “I’ll walk you in,” he said before you could say goodbye, his eyes on the men smoking outside your building. He leaned forward to his driver, whispering to lock the car.

You couldn’t help but laugh as Daemon let you out, his arm instantly wrapping around your waist. “Hey pretty lady,” Theon grinned as you walked past which only made Daemon tighten his grip.

Before Daemon could say anything, you turned to Theon and Robb, “Hey boys,” you grinned, sending Robb a wave. He looked far too stoned to even know what way was up, “Don’t be too loud tonight,” you joked as you walked past them and into the building.

“No promises,” Theon called after you.

Daemon raised an eyebrow, looking at you like an alien would, “They’re my next-door neighbours. Very gay, massive stoners,” you told him.

“Ahh,” Daemon said, nodding his head, “Forgive my scepticism. Im not used to this part of town,”

“Don’t worry you weren’t all wrong. My downstairs neighbour is basically crack as a person. Tin foil hats and all,” you told him in a whisper as you past his flat to go to the stairs. “I’ll tell you all about my crazy neighbours next time,”

“So, there will be a next time?” Daemon asked, eyebrow raised and a casual smirk on his face. “Glad to hear it,”

“This is me,” you told him as you reached your door, “Text me. I’ve got work tomorrow but we’ll make it work,”

Daemon smiled down at you, pushing a strand of hair out your face, “Can’t wait doll,” he said, his fingertips grazing past your cheek, “Would it be wrong if I kissed you?” he whispered, his touch resting on your jaw.

“It’d be wrong if you didn’t,” a sudden boost of confidence ran through you as you stepped forward, pressing your chest into his. Daemon didn’t need to be told twice before he closed the gap, his lips crashing onto yours as he pressed you into the door.

Your hands wrapped around his neck, toying with his silver hair. His squeezed your waist before sliding down to grip your hips. If sara wasn’t home right now you wouldn’t have let him leave. When he pulled away you were both breathless. “Until next time,” he said as he caught his breath.

“Next time can’t be soon enough,” you said as Daemon slipped an envelope out his suit pocket and handed it to you, all while keeping eye contact, “Goodnight Daemon,”

“Night doll,” he said as he kissed your hand goodbye and walked back to the stairs.

You took one last moment to compose yourself before opening the door to instantly be bombarded by Sara, “Omg your head blocked the peep hole what happened?” she said as she grabbed your hand and rushed you to the couch to sit between her and Cregan for some reason.

“Why you here?”

“To make sure you didn’t die?” he said like it was obvious, but you just rolled your eyes.

Sara slapped the pair of you as she gained back the attention, “Now what happened? How much did he give you?”

“I’m not sure,” you said as you finally opened the envelope, again marked only by his initials. “Holy shit,” you said as you took out the bills.

“He gave you a grand!?!”

Part Three Here

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics

@delicious-xx @pet1t3 @themotherofblood @avalyaaa @starkleila

#daemon targeryan #hotd daemon #daemon headcanon #daemon au #daemon x you #daemon x y/n #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #Daemon targeryn imagine #modern daemon targeyen #modern daemon #modern daemon targaryen #House of the dragon #House of the dragon x reader #House of the dragon imagine #HOTD #HOTD imagine #hotd x reader #Modern HotD #Modern HotD imagine #sugar daddy daemon targaryen #Part two #Game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #Game of thrones x reader #Got #Got x reader #Got imagine

[ravixen]

hello! i just read you svt forgetting about date thread and its so good! Would like to request for the remaining members reactions if possible 🥹 thank you!!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

svt + forgetting your date (pt 3)

➔ reaction || requested

➔ warnings: none || 0.9k words ➔ notes: general, fluff ; yep! excited to get this series completed and out of the way. if you liked the reactions, please reblog :) for any new followers, please make sure to read my pinned post.

SEUNGCHEOL: he often jokes that money can solve the world's biggest problems, and for the most part, it's true...when the problem is jeonghan's desire for fancy items. but when the problem is him not showing up to a date that he planned? he doesn't think expensive gifts will placate you, especially when he wakes up to missed calls and text messages that quickly go from confused to annoyed. he's in the middle of typing an excuse when you call one more time, and he answers with a sheepish laugh of your name. "um, I can be on the way in like 10, 15 minutes? it doesn't take me long to get ready." he's already rolling out of bed and pulling clothes out of the closet, but you sigh into the phone and that stops him in his tracks. "we've already missed the train," you say, and with a start, he realizes just how late he is. "even if you somehow make it here within the hour and we catch the next one, the lines will probably be too long. wouldn't be worth it." oh, this sucks. he's the one who got you all excited about a first-come, first-serve festival a few hours away, and he didn't deliver. "let's get breakfast and come up with a new plan then. we can't go there, but we have all day to do whatever you want."

SOONYOUNG: his ambition, an attractive trait on its own, comes with the tendency to over-estimate his capabilities. for example: when he got drunk during lee youngji's show and immediately headed to practice after. at the time, you watched the video of his tipsy dancing with an amused smile. his work ethic was admirable...and kind of funny in a way. now? you don't think it's very funny at all. you tap your foot as you stare at your text thread, where two hours ago he said that work was wrapping up and that he had time to freshen up before coming to your date. well, he's late. right when you were about to text him for an update, he calls you. "hey!" there's a muffled crash and a mumbled swear before his voice is back. "I'm so, so sorry. the shoot ended, but they asked for a short interview and I thought we had time. and we did! but I think I fell asleep and forgot to set an alarm and—" he huffs, zipping something up. "I can make it there in twenty minutes!" you check the time, frowning. "with traffic, it's probably closer to half an hour. why don't we re-schedule, soonyoung? I'll just go home." "no, but you cleared your schedule for today! why don't we meet up somewhere halfway, hm? I want to see you at least."

WONWOO: he's a runner (he's a track star), and he uses those long legs to book it down the street, trying his best to ignore the judgmental glances of passing strangers. faintly, he can make out your figure in front of the restaurant, your phone in hand as you scroll. when he skids to a stop in front of you, you don't look impressed, but that's better than looking angry, he supposes. he doubles over with his hands on his knees, taking gasping breaths and spitting out excuses for his lateness. the only thing you say in return is, "they gave up our dinner reservation," which makes his heart sink because you made the reservation months ago. with how popular it is, he had to bring out the celebrity card, and even then, he barely got on the list. "do you want to try the place across the street?" he offers his hand and a weak smile that you only glance at. "and spend the entire time knowing that we could've been over here instead? no, thanks." you show him your screen. "let's go here." it's closer to the apartment, thus in the direction he just came from, but he'd take driving back over you giving him the cold shoulder all night.

JIHOON: "you stood me up," you say when he finally picks up the phone. and then you laugh and tell him that it's not a big deal—it's just a maplestory date, after all—but he hears the disappointment in your voice and he knows that it was more than simply meeting up in a silly video game. it was about making time for each other for the first time in forever, about being on call for as long as you can, about laughing as you watch him fall off the platform for the nth time in a row. it was about the fact that he made a promise and broke it for such a stupid reason. he looks at the time. "when are you planning to sleep?" he asks, already opening the game launcher and sliding on his headphones. "I don't have anything tomorrow. why?" he hums. "let's go farm those rare items you wanted." it must've been the right thing to say because you gasp, "really? it's going to be such a waste of time, though...are you sure?" of course he's sure. being with you, regardless of what you're doing, is rarely a waste of time. plus you were venting the other day about how no one wanted to help you farm. "load up. I'm waiting."

#caratwritersclub #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seungcheol scenarios #s.coups scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #hoshi scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #jihoon scenarios #woozi scenarios #g: svt #m: seungcheol #m: soonyoung #m: wonwoo #m: jihoon #t: reaction #s: request #anonymous #ravixen

[trashboatprince]

For the writing meme aziraphale crowley with "I've got your back, ok?" please?

Sounds good! :D

On with the fic!

--

"Crowley!" Aziraphale shouted in distress when the addressed demon waltzed into the shop. "Oh, Crowley, I need your help!"

Crowley blinked slowly behind his shades, stopping in his task of heading for the back room. "Uh, what's the matter? Did someone touch one of your first editions with sticky fingers?"

"No, no! It's not that, it's just..." Aziraphale looked antsy, pacing in a small circle. Crowley waited patiently, knowing that it was best to let the angel gather his thoughts before speaking again.

Aziraphale stopped, let out a small breath, then turned to face him, frowning deeply. "I made a mistake."

"A mistake."

"Yes, you see, I tend to schedule things for myself, events for the month, what days some of my favorite restaurants want me to stop by for taste testing, when Maggie wants to have tea with me while we listen to her record collection, all that!"

Crowley nodded, gesturing for him to continue. "Right, well, I noticed my schedule for today at half past two is the auction. You know the one, I was telling you about it."

"The one with those books and manuscripts from the Eastern Mediterranean, yes?"

Aziraphale's pleased smile made Crowley's insides feel like melted butter on fresh bread. "Oh, you were listening! Anyway, yes, well, I had already planned to go to the auction to obtain some of the items, or at least try my hand at getting them. I've got my eyes on a certain manuscript..."

"But?"

"But I had made a huge mistake! At the exact same time, I'm meant to be dealing with new clientele on this street, and I'm the landlord of the building! I had mistaken the date, I had thought it was next month, but no, it's today, and I can't change it on that young couple. They're looking forward to opening up their bakery of... well..." A blush came over his face for a second. "It certainly fits the spirit of SoHo and its history with adult... enjoyments."

Crowley grinned. "An erotic bakery? Cute. So, what's the problem?"

"I can't cancel on them, the meeting is to be done today so they can get started with renovations for the shop as soon as possible. And the auction is only today, once the sells are done, they're done!"

The demon crossed his arms, tilting his head. "Sooooo... it's either do your job, or go and blow your money on rare goods?"

"You make it sound like a bad thing..."

"No, no, I'm just thinkin' aloud." Crowley rolled his head. "Alright, I'll help. You wanna do the auction and I do the landlord thing?"

Aziraphale's smile could rival the sun's brightness. "Y-you'd do it? Really?"

"'s no problem, angel, I've had to do the landlord thing for you a few times in the past, remember? I think I helped with setting up the lease for that one shop, that music guy, the one that likes Doctor Who. Remember? You had to do that mission in Canada."

"Ah, yes, I remember! Oh, thank you, so much!"

"Eh, don't thank me. I've got your back, okay? Like I always do, just take me to that nice wine bar later tonight in return, yeah?"

"Of course, of course." Aziraphale said, still smiling, before grabbing Crowley's hands, giving them a squeeze. "You are simply the best, Crowley, how can I ever repay you?"

Crowley made a noise with his throat that sounded like a vacuum that sucked up something it shouldn't have. He turned his head away, not wanting to look at that beautiful face. "W-wine bar! That's enough of a thanksssss! Now, go get yourself dolled up, you've got some ancient nerd stuff to purchase."

--

I dunno why I picked erotic bakery, but it's SoHo, and canonically Aziraphale's shop is right next to an adult shop. Oh, and Mrs. Sandwich works there and we all know what sort of business she runs. :)

#good omens #crowley #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #john's drabbles

[lady-pug]

dream a little dream of me

Chapter IV of Dream a Little Dream of Me

Summary: As you settled in for the night, sleep overcame you almost as soon as your head hit your pillow.

“You called?” you heard a voice call out in the darkness.

Opening your eyes, you noticed with joyous gidiness that you were once again standing on the cobbled street, the moonlight shining softly on your skin. And Morpheus, the man you desperately wished to see, was standing only a few steps in front of you.

“I-” you almost found yourself at a loss for words “I did.”

Pairing: Morpheus | Dream of the Endless x Reader

Word count: 1,4k

Warnings: none

Notes: So… hi. I’m back. I’d like to start off by apologizing. I’m so so sorry for how long I’ve been absent, and especially for how long this story went without an actual ending to it (even though I’d promised to have it out quickly, just goes to show I shouldn’t make promises I might not be able to keep). A lot has happened in my personal and professional life in the past months that have kept me away from writing. I’ve had the first half of this chapter for almost as long as the third one has been out but so much was happening that I didn’t have the time or the motivation (sometimes I lacked both to be honest) to come back and finish it.

But I’ve finally done it. This story is finally complete. I’ve had the idea for this chapter mostly planned out in my head since chapter 1, and now I finally get to share it with you. I’d like to thank anyone who has taken the time to read this story and embark on this small journey with me, whether it be just one chapter (even just one paragraph) or the complete story. Thank you so so much for reading, and a special thank you for anyone who has left any sort of feedback, it means the world to me. And again I’m so very sorry for taking so long to write this, I sincerely hope you can forgive me. And I truly hope you enjoy this, dear reader!

Reader's gender not specified

Previous part | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Things had started to look a little bit brighter after that night. Slowly, very slowly, little by little, things in your life started getting better, getting sorted out. It wasn’t immediate, nor was it without effort, but it was something.

The first thing you did after writing ten whole pages on that fateful Word Document was to start looking for a job. Literally anything would do, just so long as it got the bills paid and added food to the table, just long enough for you to get back on your feet and find a more permanent career. You’d be the first to admit that some of the jobs you took during that time, some of the people you’d met, were simply awful, sometimes bordering on humiliating. But some you actually enjoyed, and some of the people you had met you’d keep in your heart for a long time.

You’d also tried getting in touch with the people you’d grown apart, even if they didn’t want anything to do with you, just as a way to get closure. Some answered and some didn’t. Some didn’t want to talk, others agreed to meet. Some simply told you how things you’d done had hurt them, and you told them of how they had hurt you in return. And some had even agreed to try and work things out, slowly regaining contact and, eventually, their trust.

And finally, after several long months, you managed to save up enough money to travel back to your home town for a couple of days in order to pay your relative’s grave a visit. It wasn’t perfect, nor was it ideal, but it was enough, if only for now. You felt a strange sense of calmness looking at the words engraved in their headstone. The sort of calmness you had only felt when in the Dreaming.

Speaking of, your night visits to the Dreaming and its inhabitants had been a comfortable constant in your life for the past few months, at least in the beginning anyway. At first, you kept coming back every night, cherishing your conversations with the café owner, who you had come to know was named Amanda, or the little quips Matthew threw your way whenever he saw you walking around town. Even Mervyn’s rudeness was something you had grown fond of. But the thing you looked forward to the most was seeing Dream. Sometimes he’d actually stop by and engage in casual conversation with you, other times he'd just send a small grin your way over his shoulder in passing as he strode around town. But every single time you saw him you felt a warm, fuzzy fluttering feeling in your chest.

But eventually, as things in the waking world started to get better, your visits to the Dreaming started to become progressively more scarce. You started having other dreams too, some good, some not so much, your visions of the small town, and consequently your interactions with Morpheus, dwindling by the day. While it saddened you to let this go, to let him go, you cherished it even more so.

Tonight, though, almost an entire year after your first real conversation with him by the riverside, you really wished to visit him, even if it was one last time. It had been weeks since you’d last visited and you were hoping with all your heart to be able to talk to him again. You had good news to share after all.

As you got ready for bed your thoughts kept wandering back to Dream. Why had he become so special to you? Why were you special, like Lucienne had told you, in the first place? Why did you keep going back to the Dreaming? Maybe you’d never know the answer to those questions, and you realized with a quiet start that you were fine not knowing. Those things happened, and you were honestly glad they did, there was no point in dwelling on the past now.

As you settled in for the night, sleep overcame you almost as soon as your head hit your pillow. 

“You called?” you heard a voice call out in the darkness.

Opening your eyes, you noticed with joyous gidiness that you were once again standing on the cobbled street, the moonlight shining softly on your skin. And Morpheus, the man you desperately wished to see, was standing only a few steps in front of you.

“I-” you almost found yourself at a loss for words “I did.”

He smiled softly, head slightly tilted as if to ask what was on your mind.

“It’s just-” you shook your head in order to gather your thoughts “Since… that night, I’ve been coming here less and less.”

“It’s because you don’t need this anymore.”

For a brief moment you panicked, doesn’t he want you to come see him anymore?

“What? No, I-” you stammered “I still- I still need this. I still need you!”

His grin turned soft and he averted his eyes before speaking again.

“You have gotten to a point in your life in which I am no longer needed. There is nothing holding you back anymore, you get to live your life however you see fit.”

A stinging sensation accompanied the tears brimming in your eyes, threatening to fall.

“But I still want to see you. I still want you.”

His smile widened, small lines creasing in the corners of his eyes as he took a step towards you, leaving almost no space between the two of you. 

“I once said you could see me again…”

“If I wished.” your own smile grew as realization dawned on you.

“Always.” he whispered as the back of his hand caressed your own, light like a feather.

As you stood there,breathing each other in, a moment turned into two, which then turned into a few minutes more, so much so that you almost forgot the reason for your visit.

“Why are you here?” Dream asked softly.

“Hm?”

“Why did you summon me?” he took a minuscule step back, only enough to be able to gaze into your eyes “You seemed like you had something important on your mind.”

“Oh!” you shouted, and had he been any mere mortal, Morpheus might have just flinched away from you. But he was no mere mortal and thus didn’t startle so easily, so he simply tilted his head to the side and waited for you to proceed “I finished my book.”

“That’s wonderful.” he smiled, genuinely happy for you.

“And a publisher has agreed to publish it!” you rocked on the balls of your feet, suddenly feeling bashful “I got the confirmation email today. I thought you might like to hear about it, since you were oh so interested in it before, you know.”

He chuckled softly, both of his hands resting on your shoulders to keep you in place.

“I am truly happy for you. And I feel honored you decided to come all this way to share it with me.” he removed one of his hands from your shoulder and raised it in the air “I believe this moment calls for a celebration, don’t you think?”

For the briefest of moments you panicked, believing he was sending you away once more.

“No, no, wait!” you tried to hold onto his hand but it was too late, he had already snapped his fingers.

Nothing happened. You were still there with him, not back in your bed in the morning. His smile turned smug, bordering on a smirk, as if he was already expecting your reaction.

And then you heard it. From seemingly out of nowhere came the soft whisper of a trumpet, followed by a powerful voice.

“Where is that coming from?” you looked around but could not find the source of the music.

Dream simply shrugged. That did not matter now, did it? Slowly, he raised a hand towards you, palm up and inviting. Placing your own hand on top of his, he pulled you closer, your chests practically touching, as his other arm enveloped your waist.

“This is what you call a celebration around these parts?” you teased, earning a chuckle from him.

“Only when both parts are into it.” he responded, slowly swaying you both to the rhythm of the song.

As you and Dream danced together, the soft glow of moonlight caressing your skins, you couldn’t help but sigh, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Thank you.” you whispered.

“Whatever for?” he hummed.

“For this. All of this.”

As you slipped further into his embrace, you felt peaceful. Your whole body tingled and for only a moment you wished you didn’t have to go back to the waking world.

“You’re welcome, darling.” he whispered back to you.

But you now knew you could always return here, to this very moment. All you had to do was wish for it, and Dream would bring you back here. Back to him.

#morpheus x reader #dream x reader #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x gn!reader #dream x gn!reader #sandman x gn!reader #dream of the endless x gn!reader #the sandman fanfic #morpheus fanfiction #dream fanfic #dream of the endless fanfic

[12pt-times-new-roman]

OK WOW IT'S THE BREAK, THAT WAS A HELL OF A FIRST HALF JESuS FUCK

I have 10 minutes to collect my thoughts so let's fuckin' go

Dusk's name is Yu. They're a hexblade warlock (so the rapier is probably their pact weapon) and an Oath of Conquest paladin.

Birdie is a rogue, and has access to Invisibility (through either the Arcane Trickster subclass, the Magic Initiate feat, or the Fey/Shadow-Touched feat).

Fearne is Ruidus-born, and Ruidus has been appearing in the feywild "where/when it shouldn't be."

Yu mentioned the Keeper of the Moontides by name, and claims that both courts and the Keeper will be hunting the Calloways for the Moontide Crown. This directly connects the Arcana Pansophical and Allura to this campaign, since a Pansophical spy was the first one to report the Keeper and promptly went missing after that

"You don't know what you're doing!" "Elaborate!" Ashton my beloved

The Bead of Imprisonment is broken & unusable

Oh, this party's flaw is going to be that they're too trusting. Got it. (Travis is giving me huuuuge C2E70 vibes right now and I don't know how I feel about it.)

YEAYEAYEA

Ruidus doesn't appear in the Feywild, only Catha does, but it started appearing about seven years ago. Ollie had visions and no one believed them — he saw "something about this red moon tearing through and leaving devastation in its path. And in the center of it, he kept seeing you [Fearne]." That's why they didn't take Fearne with them.

Birdie directly knows the Nightmare King and called him Ira, and she specifically mentioned that she had seen him after he fought the Hells.

The Unseelie were working with "some Exandrian folk" (my bet is on the Paragon's Call) to try and put something together, something arcane that was going to help "further their boons from the red moon." At the center of that construction was the Moontide Crown, so the Calloways took it to stop them. The crown has strong ties to the Moonweaver and Catha, and Birdie is unsure who the Unseelie were working with and what the crown actually does.

The Calloways were working with Ira to try and figure it out. "Corrupted" versions of the Unseelie are contained within a mirror and sent out to assassinate whoever the mirror is pointed at, and Ira constructed it. Sounds a lot like the assassins who attacked the Lumas twins and Zephrah.

The Nightmare King was doing work with Treshi to raise funds for this project.

"Something big is coming... we're trying to build a device to discern the true nature of Ruidus, and why everything's overlapping. We have about a month until [an apogee solstice on Fessuran 21-23]... [Ira] sees in his own weird way the dangers of what might be coming."

Their device is missing a couple things. They're working with Hanvir, who works with the Grim Verity.

"Your ignorance is going to be the end of it all."

ah

Ira reached Morri to get one of these missing pieces. And Morri said that she'd send something along. Like the little gem that Fearne is carrying around.

The gnarlrock is in the Feywild, and "everyone always ends up returning to it, for better or for worse." Yu doesn't know what it does, just that it's a powerful artifact.

Ira's work with the werewolves wasn't actually his "work," he was just working for Treshi to make some money for the machine.

Are they building a spelljammer helm???

FCG casts Identify on the gem from Fearne.

"It looks like a green glass disc. It's rough on the edges, but it's like a deep emerald lens. It has a slight rainbow flash across it... it isn't a known magical item. The best term you can come to is a weave lens. You glance through it, and you look through it at everyone around you— every piece of magical equipment your friends are wearing seems to be giving off a glow. You focus on the glow, you're not sure of the nature of it but there's letters and symbols across each of them. You look at Ashton's hammer, and you see the magical magnetic fields across it, and you look at the patterns for a second and it looks like script."

Laudna has Eyes of the Runekeeper, which allows her to identify the language on Yu's sword as an ancient elven language "used for pressing ideas and philosophies and truths onto weapons as part of an enchantment... it tens to be about creating shadow and banishing shadow in the same stroke." That tracks with it being a pact weapon, so.

Birdie got a couple more arcane batteries from Imahara.

Birdie also took Yu's tracking ring! Fearne takes after her mother :)

Ruidus started acting weird seven years ago, which precisely aligns with when the Mighty Nein freed Cognouza. (we all thought the chains breaking across the city was it being freed. but was Cognouza some kind of lock? was it one of Tharizdun's fanes? was it keeping something at bay like the Tree of Names was??)

An apogee solstice is approaching, about a month from now — so Ruidus' zenith is most likely going to coincide with that, since EXU:C confirmed that both of the moons play a part in producing an apogee solstice.

anyway my take away from this half is that all you fuckers who said Calamity 2: Electric Boogaloo were hit with Apollo's dodgeball. "your ignorance will be the end of everything"? "there'll be nothing left, it'll all burn"? massive bureaucracy trying to take advantage of things far bigger than them that they don't understand just because they think they can? yeah. Exandria had its Calamity eight hundred years ago — so maybe it's the Feywild's turn.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #critical role c3 #critical role campaign 3 #critical role liveblog #critical role c2 #note watches c3 #critical role c2 spoilers

[judgeanon]

Plastic Skies of Betrayal - Model 12: F-5E Tiger II “Area 88″

So this model is a little special. I know I said the same thing about the last one, but while the Raptor build came with a heavy dose of anxiety and frustrations, the next build turned out to be a nice planetary alignment of materials and people all coming together in an incredibly rewarding project. Just like the Raptor, however, talking about it involves talking about other things first. In this case, a late 70s manga that set up camp in my brain months ago and refuses to leave. 

Have you ever heard of AREA 88? If not, you’re about to.

So there’s this plane called the Northrop F-5 Tiger II, which I’d actually never heard about until I played Ace Combat 5: The Unsung War. That game famously starts you off in an F-5 and locks you there for the first four or five missions, so I became pretty well-acquainted with this tiny little fighter. Some people might recognize its shape from the original TOP GUN, where it was painted black and used as a stand-in for Russian MiG planes, but on the other side of the Pacific, a lot of people know it best as one of the signature planes of one Shin Kazama.

Shin is the protagonist of AREA 88, a manga by Kaoru Shintani that started all the way in 1979 and ended in 1986, the same year TOP GUN came out. I first heard about it while looking at some model kits, and since I was (and in a lot of ways still am) elbows deep in fighter jets at that time, I started to dig a bit deeper. Three OVAs and half a manga series later, I was absolutely hooked. The air combat is fantastic and the manga pulls a bunch of incredible visual tricks to render it, but it’s the intense melodrama of the characters that really kept me in. It’s a tremendously engaging, compelling and interesting series from every angle. And funny enough, I’d actually seen it once, over a decade ago. Just not as a manga or as an anime.

As it turns out, AREA 88 had a videogame for the SNES that had been brought to the West as “UN SQUADRON”, and I had actually played it back when my computer was so underpowered that all I could play were emulated retro games. Running into the game’s source material again in the midst of a wild craze triggered by another videogame was a strange but fun little return, and along with my growing obsession with said source material, cemented my decision to make my next model AREA 88-themed. And the universe seemed more than happy to provide.

My current favorite hobby shop turned out to have a 1/72 Tiger II model for a very nice price, made by the same company that made the F-16 model I’d built some months ago. To make things even better, it was also the exact same kit I’d already seen a much better hobbyist than me turn into Shin’s plane and upload tons of great reference pics online. All I really needed would be the decals, so I asked the shop’s owner if he could get me in touch with someone who prints customs decals. He obliged, although in the end that wouldn’t be necessary.

The build itself was pretty sweet, although not without its hiccups. There was no family drama to distract me this time nor lingering feelings of guilt. Even money was no longer an object. Feeling more relaxed than usual, I took my time with it, and challenged myself to add a few extra touches. For example, taking the thinnest brush I have, dipping it in red paint and giving the stick a little button,

The other thing I also tried out was, for the first time, primer. Yes, I’m a dummy. Yes, I’m not sure how I got this far without it. But I’d never actually needed primer before until disaster struck and some patches of paint began to fall out of my Raptor model kit. I’m still not sure what caused it exactly, but priming models from now on seemed like the smartest solution. As we say down here, better to prevent than mend.

That said, I don’t think I fully understand this whole priming thing yet. Without an airbrush or a spray can, I just used a brush to coat the kit with it, right off the bottle. I’m not sure if this is a good way to use it but at least it smelled really good. And not in a thick chemical kind of way, just genuinely sweet smell. But anyway...

Painting had to be paused for a moment after I let a friend borrow my white paint, so for a week or so only the Tiger’s tail saw any paint, but once I had everything back things moved pretty quickly. I was a bit worried about the blue part since masking tape and me don’t see eye to eye. Still, it worked out alright, and any imperfections were quickly corrected with a bit more paint. Which is something I really appreciate in model-making: if you mess up, you can usually paint over it. Usually.

Like with the stick, I took the time to paint a few other little details like the position lights. Decals and weathering also worked out pretty well, thanks to HobbyBoss’ decals being really good and the plane itself being really small compared to the last couple ones I’d made.

The other thing I felt quite proud of was my paintjob on the transparent parts. I’d been scared of canopies for so long that a bunch of my first models are still purely transparent there, but thanks to a couple of really comfortable brushes and some experience, I’m feeling far more confident about it nowadays. Plus, I’d fallen in love with this shade of blue, so adding more to the plane was its own reward. And speaking of canopies, another little touch I’ve been adding to the planes since the Raptor is to give the whole thing a coat of matte varnish, but then use gloss for the canopy, giving it a nice shiny finish. Although that led to a moment of anxiety when a drop of varnish went inside the canopy and stayed there, giving it a very ugly thick white curve that I feared was permanent. In the end I went to sleep and woke up to the varnish having completely dried out and disappeared, so that’s a good life lesson: sometimes you just need to sleep things off.

So with that and a combination of black and gray panel liner, the Tiger was done! ... or was it? After all, this wasn’t just any Tiger, this is supposed to be Shin Kazama’s Tiger. It was still missing a couple of very important touches. But for the time being I was pretty damn satisfied with the model, top to bottom.

A couple of weeks passed and I never really got around to contacting the guy I’d been recommended, but then I ran into something interesting: a local hobbyist in our local version of eBay was offering custom display bases for model kits at a pretty affordable price. I’d been thinking about getting or even making a humble display base for pictures and stuff, but when I noticed that he was offering custom touches, an idea came to my mind. And that idea lead to a frankly pretty amazing moment of pure human connection.

So after I got paid, I reached out to the guy and asked about getting a 1/72 base made with some extra touches. First, he asked for a picture of the model I wanted to go on the base, so he could take some measurements. Feeling pretty proud of my work so far, I sent him a picture...

... and I swear, the very first thing he said was, and I quote:

“Oh, is that Shin Kazama’s F-5 from Area 88?”

To which my answer was “Ok, that simplifies matters.”

On top of immediately understanding the assignment, new friend even offered to throw in a little extra: a Shin Kazama scale figurine, free of charge. I said yes, of course, ‘cause momma didn’t raise the kind of fool that says no to free stuff, and also asked if he knew anyone who could help me with the decals. As it turned out, he did know a guy. And the combined efforts of three different people living nearly 400 miles away from each other all came together to make something that makes me incredibly happy.

Like everything else I’ve made so far, it’s not perfect. The tail decal couldn’t be easily printed in transparent paper, so it was printed on blue paper that’s ever so slightly a different shade than the one on the plane. But the results are still more than good enough for me.

In the end, this kit turned out to be a very welcome de-stresser. The difficult parts turned out to be a lot less difficult than it seemed, and the base and decals story is something I know I’ll always talk about with a smile on my face. In a hobby that’s usually pretty solitary, that little bit of long-distance camaraderie went a long way. And left me a very nice base for all future projects.

#My Stuff #Hobbies #Journals #Area 88 #F-5 Tiger II #Lovely human beings #Being nice to each other

[chelseafcwmemes]

Another one behind a paywall

https://www.sportherning.dk/artikel/b2936750-9100-4136-a391-fa72c10fb6e3/

Pernille Harder has fought back from her first long-term injury and feels that her body is strong again ahead of her first World Cup final round.

Pernille Harder has, among other things, won eight championships in a row - across three of Europe's strongest leagues.

Nine cup titles and three finals in the Champions League are also there. Along with an EC silver medal.

But the star player, who was born and raised in Tulstrup by Ikast, has never been a part of the World Cup in football.

- I am really looking forward to experiencing it and being part of the WC. Of course, we go out on the pitch to get the best possible result, and I give everything for that. But as I said, it's my first WC, so I'm just looking forward to soaking it up, says Pernille Harder.

She delivers the words to Herning Folkeblad before Tuesday's training on the hybrid track in Herning Fremad. This year, the national team has set up its big WC training camp in Herning with three training days this week and four next. The squad for the final round is announced the day after the last training session in Herning.

The injured thigh feels strong again

Of course, Pernille Harder does not have to worry about her place in the World Cup squad, even though she has not actually played a single international match this year.

She was injured in an international match against Switzerland on November 11 last year and subsequently underwent surgery for a thigh injury and was sidelined for five months.

- It was the first time I was out with an injury for a long time. But I worked really hard during my injury period to be in good physical shape when I came back.

And it also felt good when I returned, says Pernille Harder.

She got playing time in the last six games of the season in the English league for her club, Chelsea, and scored five goals in those games.

Now she is also back on the national team for the first time since the injury.

- It feels great to be back. Nice to see the girls and train with them and just be in the national team camp again, says the 30-year-old offensive ace.

The fact that the training session takes place in Herning with accommodation at Hotel Eyde is only a plus.

- It feels quite homely. After all, it's only 10 minutes to Ikast, smiles Pernille Harder, who still has her parents Annie and Mogens and older sister Louise in Ikast.

There are exactly 29 days until the World Cup in Australia and New Zealand begins. Denmark is in a pool with the European champions from England, China and Haiti.

- We have a month to train hard and make sure we are sharp.

- We are of course looking to progress from the pool. That's how it always is.

And then we'll have to see after that, points out Pernille Harder with a sense of humor.

New challenges in Germany

She also has a lot to look forward to at club level. Just three weeks ago, she and her boyfriend, the Swedish national team captain Magdalena Eriksson, were presented as new players in FC Bayern München.

It may seem surprising to some that one of the world's best players is saying goodbye to the up-and-coming and money-rich English league, but for Harder it makes good sense.

- I wanted to try something new. And I really like the German culture and German mentality, and I think that Bayern as a club is really interesting.

I like the values in the club, and I think it's a really good team that I hope I can help to become even stronger, says Pernille Harder.

She played three and a half years in the German Bundesliga before moving to Chelsea, and thrived enormously in the German back then.

It was in VfL Wolfsburg.

This time it is Bayern Munich, and this time it will be with Magdalena Eriksson. The Swede has been at Chelsea for six years.

- It is of course a big plus that the club wanted both of us and sees a good role for both of us in the team, she states.

They have both signed three-year contracts with the southern German big club, which has won five German championships on the women's side - including two within the past three years. In the past three seasons, Bayern have been in two quarter-finals and one semi-final in the Champions League - The aim is to play for the titles in Germany - both the championship and the cup - and try to chase the big one: the Champions League, says Pernille Harder, who has been to three Champions League finals without winning the major trophy.

I wanted to try something new. And I really like the German culture and German mentality, and I think that Bayern as a club is really interesting

[evita-shelby]

Tie your heart to mine

Chapter 6

Cw: mentions of recreational drug use, mentions of euthanasia

Gif by @damatheirin

She has been here plenty of times and yet she is twice as nervous as she was when she came here for supper the first time.

There is a wariness Douglas hides as Tom calls her his girl.

Tom held her hand, kissed like he meant it and called her his bird.

Bird, she’d come to know meant girlfriend.

“How was your first day at your office?” Lois asked as she helped her with dinner, something Lois had found strange at first but then they fell into the old routine they had before they learned the truth.

She may be richer than God, but she is still Diane.

Something Douglas did not quite believe.

He is just watching out for his kids, she supposed.

He used to like her fine before it all happened, but then again Diane had been lying about herself.

“S’good, I think. No one rioted, it didn’t collapse in a day and by the end of the month, I suppose it will be up to Shelby standards and be ready to change gears at any second now. My mom says it won’t be long before the Nazis take Poland and France.” She says forgetting Harry is in Poland.

It’s nearly July now, her mom gave it till August or September 1st before the second world war officially began.

“Did she see it in the cards, like you do?” Lois asks, hoping she could pretend it wasn’t true.

But her words do catch the men’s attention, especially Douglas who knows Tom may be called to serve.

“Yes, but confirmation came from friends she has in certain places. Germany and Russia are gearing up for grand scale invasions because they know those two countries are not prepared for one let alone the two of them.” Diane answered, seeing Tom in a naval uniform as she set his plate in front of him.

The sight is enough to shock her but hides it because she can’t bear the thought of never seeing him again or him returning a shell of his former self.

“Your Harry will be evacuated, but he’s a translator and those leave when the Embassy stops needing them.” Diane is incapable of being comforting in a way that is not acceptable to anyone who is not a Shelby.

Shelbys like kind words, but also the cold truth.

Rip off the band-aid.

“When I met your dad, he said, ‘Well, at least you get to leave, but you will be fucked in the head like the rest of us for life, I am afraid’.” Douglas said trying to distract Lois who did not take her words as comfort.

Who would anyways.

“When I was ten, he euthanized my filly after it got a disease in its hoofs, he said ‘sweetheart, sometimes death is a kindness’.” She says not helping her case. “I am afraid your Tom has saddled himself with a girl from a family full of freaks.”

“If you ask me, I don’t think he gives a shit about it.” Tom brought himself into the conversation.

“Language, Tom.” Lois chastised playfully, regaining some of her previous cheer by pushing the bad news to the back of her mind.

“As if you didn’t hear her say worse when we all got arrested.” Tom reminds her with that same old grin of his.

Spirits, she is so in love with this boy.

“She’s gonna marry him.” Eva tells her husband after he joined her in her very relaxing bath.

Made more relaxing by that joint of homegrown marijuana she just shared with him.

Better get him too calm to do anything when she has to give him news he doesn’t like.

And right now, Tommy’s only thinking about he’s needed this since their girl went to Manchester with the Lees.

“Yeah, he says he loves her and wouldn’t stop being with her for all the money in the world.” He admits, something Eva only half knew.

She knew about the threat he made because she had to calm him down before he wrecked his entire office.

“And he won’t, they will make a handsome couple, he in his sailor uniform, her in my old dress.” She said seeing them walk out of the courthouse looking so happy and knowing any happiness they have will be what warms them on the lonely nights to come.

“His dad is a pacifist, doubt he’d let the boy j enlist, let alone in the navy.” Tommy snorts before returning the ever-shrinking makeshift cigarette back to her.

“Not going to have a choice, it’s the Navy for prison.” Eva says with a bad feeling.

So much potential and the boy just threw it away.

Everyone told him he was heading nowhere so often Tom Bennett believes it.

A shame he will not realize his own potential until he sees the ugliness of war.

“I just wanted better for our little witch.” He said with a resigned sigh.

“So says any father who wants the best for their child, Tommy.” His wife said softly.

“Do you think our Diane hates me?” he asked hoping for a nice lie.

Except they don’t do sweet sounding lies in this family.

“Got a job today.” He admits it was as if it were some big secret. “Mechanic, a shop with some of mates from school that’s by the pub.”

Just know this, even if you managed to get your head out of your arse, you wouldn’t be worthy of my daughter.

Tom could hear the fucking words every fucking time he was with her.

It gnawed at him.

Yeah, it is one fucking thing to know you are nothing but a bloody nuisance, but it’s another for a fucking stranger to tell you will never be good enough for a girl with free will of her own.

He knows it, alright, but Tom could bet his sorry arse that Thomas fucking Shelby wasn’t good enough for his wife either.

Just like granddad looked at dad the same and just like Tom and his dad know Lois is too good for Harry Chase.

“I’m happy for you, when do you start?” she asks hiding whatever got her give that frightened gasp this evening.

Gets visions or feelings about the future. Not always a bad thing, but if it had been a good thing, she would told them.

If it had been a good thing, Diane wouldn’t be holding on to him like he might die tonight.

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll walk you to your factory every morning on my way to work and that.” he answers tracing patterns on the arm draped across his chest.

“I’d like that, might even slip away from my office to see you, Tom.” She gives a quiet chuckle, moving even closer to him.

What in hell had she seen that her like that?

#tommy shelby x oc #tom bennett x ofc #tom bennett x diane #diane shelby x tom bennett #tie your heart to mine fic #ewan mitchell #world on fire ocs #world on fire peaky blinders crossover

[victimofbeingstupid]

Scam job on Indeed strikes again: Return of "Pay me money"

This is awareness post to warn other users on internet how I (and possibly you) can be scammed and potentially exploited by this person(?)/company(?). Tumblr was chosen because any information posted here can be searchable by google. I did the search before working with this company and if I would found a blog like that I would avoid my time waisted.

At end of January 2024 I was contacted by Helen Nordin after I submitted an application for Administrative Assistant on Indeed for Euclid Education Foundation (euclidfoundation.ca). I was informed on being chosen for the role and after some back in forth emails and short phone interview position was mine. Pay was generous for 28 CAD an hour with upgrade for 30 CAD once trial month was up.

Red flag: Despite a healthy 1 or 2 emails in a day between several days I got job too easily and phone interview was barely informational, more like she called and asked questions for the checkmark. I thought it was because by my resume and me being overqualified for this position, but it was not.

I started the work that consisted of simple tasks like creating presentations for the company, only contact I had with named Helen person though Telegram @ Helen_EDUfoundation. After 2 and half weeks of work and constant communication I reminded them about my salary (which was planned to be sent to me bi-weekly) because they didnt mention it before that. They assured me that by Friday afternoon I will get my payment. When I didn't get money Friday I didn't say anything because banks can be late on transactions, and on Monday I was blocked by Helen on Telegram and somehow our convo was erased.

My phone calls to [phone] (Helen's number that we used to communicate) were dropped immediately, while calls from other numbers were going all the way to voicemail so I assume I was blocked. I have my suspicions that they are some form of crypto bros because one of my latest tasks was to find cheap sellers for Samsung S20. They said its for international students, but I was an international student and all of stuff we provided for ourselves and one of prominent features of S20 model is crypto wallet included.

In this times when finding a good job is hard many scammers make profit out of you so please research every opportunity that others offer you, especially if it sounds too good to be true. Im glad that I only wasted my time and my plans for close future, but others can waste so much more.

#scam alert #job scams #indeed scams #scammers

[ndfan3]

Nancy’s AI Adventure, Part 10

“Come on gentleman, in you go.” said George. She and the waitress supervised the procession of the four sullen and bound men into the manager’s office where they were seated, gagged by the two young women as a precaution against plotting, and then locked up. Meanwhile Nancy, Bess and the remaining staff apologised profusely to the diners, explaining that the police woukd soon be here and that restaurant was closing for the night. “Well, that’s that, then.” sighed Bess wearily. “We captured the whole gang!” Nancy nodded. “You call the police, Bess.” she told her friend. “I would like one last word with Monsieur Dupont.”

The girl sleuth descended the stair to the wine cellar which she entered cautiously. She need not have worried. The restauranteur was still seated, tied up where George had left him after she had hurried away to prevent the cook’s escape. “Have you returned to tell me of your triumph, Miss Drew?” The Frenchman asked the young woman ironically, moving a little uncomfortably in his bonds. “Well your chums are all tied up and locked in your office, waiting for the police to arrive if that’s what you mean.” she replied. Dupont smiled ruefully. “A remarkable young woman.” he said softly. Nancy looked hard at her prisoner. “What made you do it, monsieur?” she asked him. “Turn a local thriving business into the centre of a drugs ring in a town like River Heights?” Dupont stared back at the detective then indicated the racks and racks of high end wine that surrounded them with his head. “How much do you think it cost to set this restaurant up as an exclusive online wine merchant?” he asked her. The young woman shook her head. “Debt, Miss Drew.” Dupont continued. “Eventually you turn to less scrupulous bodies when the banks will no longer loan you the money. And that is how the cartel gets its claws into you.” Dupont bowed his head as the sound of aporoaching police sirens drifted down from upstairs.

Nancy and Bess later met with Sheriff Jane Jessop outside the restaurant after M Dupont and his accomplices had been carted away in handcuffs. “You girls did well,” the policewoman smiled, “ to have turned the tables on the gang the way you did. Luckily for you they were not gang members - just employees who got greedy.” Nancy smiled in acknowledgment. “What will happen to M Dupont?” she asked Officer Jessop. “He will receive at least ten years.” Jane replied. “His team perhaps half of that - depending on what evidence we uncover now and what they tell us. Dupont helped himself by surrendering to you when he did, Miss Drew. “And the cartel?” ventured Bess. “Gone from River Heights, Miss Marvin.” replied the woman. “Something else we have to thank you ladies for.”

Two months later, Bess, George and Nancy sat in the newly opened Pierre’s restaurant. It was the former Chez Dupont, with most of the innocent staff re-employed under new management. The girls had just enjoyed a complementary meal. “It’s nice to eat here and not be investigating!” laughed Bess as she sipped a black coffee. “What next, Nance?” asked George expectantly. “How do you two fancy a holiday on my uncle’s beach house in Florida?” the titian-haired girl detective suddenly asked. “I think we deserve it, don’t you?”

THE END.

AI images created via Microsoft Bing before its upgrade and AI Fantasy

#nancy drew #woman detective #mystery #adventure #girl detective #capture #strong women #girl detective tying up bad guy #man tied up by woman

[renoxvated]

• Roy has a few different verses, his main verse takes place during the events of New Vegas, he is a House aligned courier and friend of The Kings, that helps the NCR on occasion. He isn’t friendly with the legion or the brotherhood.

Tag: thread ; badabing

• His second verse takes place after the events of New Vegas and Dead Money. He struggles with what his new life entails and the horrors he faced in the Sierra Madre. He has a Penthouse on the strip but often gets restless there.

Tag: thread ; dead on arrival

• His third verse takes place ten or so years after the last, give or take. He’s gotten older, slower and unbeknownst to him Mr. House sees that. The Mojave needs its protector, it’s Mojave Legend; regardless of if House likes to admit it and he needs his red right hand to do the jobs his robots can’t. These factors lead Roy towards Boston in search of something he’s told House wants, like the god dog he is, he barely questions it. Itching to get away from the strip and roam out, far into the Mojave and beyond. In reality what is waiting in store for The Courier lies in the institute. (aka the verse where Roy gets a synth body but won’t know it 🙃)

Tag:  thread ; into the unknown

• A few months after returning the the Mojave from Boston, Roy hears that things are less than stellar now back in New Vegas. After things with Shady Sands went FUBAR, the strips biggest customers are having to be moved around and the ones that are still around don't have the caps like they used to. Leading to more crime again in Freeside and the nearby areas. The Securitrons are spread more thin as a result and Roy is left to pick up the pieces of his home after being gone so long. (aka the verse that takes place after season one of the fallout prime show) Tag: thread ; back in the saddle again

• His modern verse is just him working as a mechanic who lives in a dingy little apartment. He owns an old dog that’s half dead (Rex) and he likes to watch old wrestling reruns and eat outdated cereal out of red solo cups because he never washes his dishes/doesn’t really own a lot. He has bare knuckled boxed before but after a bad arm injury he hasn’t in sometime.

Tag: thread ; so i'm back to the velvet underground

• In this verse Roy was captured by the Legion sometime after his mother died. He never became Courier Six, never saved the Mojave from itself. In this tale he simply became a legionary dog. If he was anyone else he might not have gotten to see another day alive, much less as a 'free' man, but he was who he was and in some ways his luck hadn't run out; he was too wild, too angry, like a rabid dog though and he was set to be put down and flayed out upon a cross. He was supposed to just be a slave, to be another cog in Caesar's machinations. Caesar had other ideas for the man who defied even the god-king, it would have been such a waste for a man like Roy to become a slave, after all the true focus of the Legion's ideology WAS survival and long term stability at all costs and what was Roy if not survival instincts themselves. So instead of putting him down like a dog-- he was offered to serve the god-king like one. He would be on a chain, abit-- a different, longer one. Roy wanted to fight it, to die with some dignity, but after everything? He'd lost so much, with nowhere else to run to he decided to make his dog bed and lie in it. (aka the bad verse where roy serves the legion) Tag: thread ; i saw god cry in the reflection of my enemies

• Due to Roy's Wild Wasteland perk he is no longer Courier Six, instead he's Courier Four; a man who should be dead because of a false package, "fuckin' fuzzy dice". After being shot in the head and left for dead, his luck seems to be what keeps him alive. He swears it was his brother who found him, but...he hasn't shown his face for years, he's got to be dead, right? He finds himself on a quest for answers instead of revenge that leads him down a path to what, or rather who he could have been in another life. (aka the verse where he can meet other couriers and is a companion there are two outcomes to this verse for what type of roy you get in the end, depending on how the courier six in question, would handle roy tracking down his brother-- who is actually the man who shot him working for the khans!) Tag: thread ; i took my love and i took it down

• Tag:

#re: how cruel is the golden rule ; headcanons #ooc: okay but i have more verse ideas but here's the main ones i've kinda fleshed out

[aethscend]

conseq. not coincidence [12] : in a day

finally, it was time!

maybe you were being dramatic- it only having passed noon so far, but something about the long hours today had really been getting to you. the absence of noise except for the dreaded ticking from behind alongside a singular monotonous voice boring you more than it would normally do. everyone still deserves a breather even in the most mundane of times.

a breather was exactly what you would call this.

if you couldn’t fault the shorter days for your lack of full consciousness, it would certainly be because of one blue haired, golden eyed man. who really had snuck into the vast boredom of your business lecture hall, and disrupted your usual calm cadence, with something interesting.

and that interest was him. the one you’re now meeting up with, presumably to continue your own assessment with his help, class materials in your arms.

you really did feel bad whenever you thought too much about it, inconveniencing him like this, even if over time again he says otherwise, how he was the one that offered. what if you agreed too quickly? the thoughts creeps into your mind, like a bygone wind that makes its way around again. the past crawls behind, lurking and watching with its pierce-

pushing past the doors of a quaintly familiar cafe, the clatter from inside, you step onto the front carpet that muffles the soles of your shoes. voices ring out from all around, peak hour incoming. and you focus on that instead. eyes gliding over the furnitures, to the waiters around that seem to be enjoying themselves. it wasn’t too busy as of yet, so you hope the best for them.

its warm, light. it staves off just the top of your nerves. the time, right. it took you roughly 12 minutes to get there, being more sluggish than normal, and the weird chills you got. there was still a few minutes before you were really supposed to be here, waiting doesn’t hurt.

situating yourself to a more empty side of the place, away from the entrance and front of the store but still easy to get to, not much went on in the next moments as you looked over the collected notes. only beginning to open your phone,

“you’re early.”

makes you nearly drop it instead.

“w- xiao!” you quickly looked up after the abrupt greeting, glancing back down at your phone again briefly at the time before meeting his (amused??) gaze. “so are you?!”

you think he’s laughing, though in physicality his face only softly averts around the area as he takes the place across. lilt edging on his lips, it hangs in the air before he mumbles, “barely.��� a hardly concealed question lingers in his eyes as you follow it to the table.

“I brought some of the materials since I was by my apartment,” you fill in.

he hums, “I see,” there’s a certain look in his eyes you can’t place but it’s gone too soon that you wonder if it was just the light through the window. “did you order yet?”

shaking your head, and in turn misplacing that prior thought, “I only got here a bit before you did.”

“I’ll do it for us both. what do you want?”

it was almost more of a demand if you hadn’t gotten more familiar with his tones the past week and a half, being with lumine in the first few months definitely helped. you tell xiao your usual, alongside some sweet crepes as you pull some notes out prepared to sift through them. “here-“

“no.”

gone for the counter just like that, you splutter from behind him without another choice again, flustered. if you knew he was going to do this you wouldn’t have added anything on either, sighing in dismay.

he returns to your begrudging pout, money on the table, which xiao pointedly ignores.

the conversation flows while you eventually give up on the facade, contents on the table being moved to the side as the drinks came and you were still talking off topically.

“xiangling’s a great roommate! I like her a lot, and she gets me to join in on cooking, too. though, haah.. she doesn’t leave me alone to do it a lot.”

“mine... likes to get takeout. I don’t mind, though sometimes it’s just bar food. he’s growing out of it. I think.”

the crepes arrive as you nearly forget about them. "Oh!" your eyes slide to the bills still laid out on the other side of your things.

as if he already knew what was going through your head, "don't."

"that's not fair.." you slump over in your seat; you see him cutting out pieces with the provided utensils. "I already ask so much of you."

"you have asked exactly nothing." the plate slides infront of you. for someone who was straightfoward, he was also stubbon.

you needed to think, taking the small bite. "do you like sweets?"

"hm?" your change in tone catches him off, "I guess?" conflict flickers in him momentarily.

you can be just as stubborn. pushing the plate to be directly in the middle of you two, "share it with me then!" fork out to him with another piece (that he was the one to cut) on it.

his arms are folded, "is this a choice?"

mocking him for earlier, "nope."

he sighs and takes a hold of the fork, hand going over yours as you let it to be lent. his eyes glimmer when he does taste it, "it's not bad," he says, but you're pleased.

beaming up at him, you really do feel light. "see!" and he has that look that says something you can't make out in that moment, that he feels the same as you did, but turns away.

"we probably should get another fork, too."

"do you do that a lot?"

"what do you mean."

"before we even started sharing, you..()"

"ah, I have... something, of a younger sister."

"?!"

the hour passes, and nearly another one goes, and it feels nice. you already knew this, but you get along with xiao. an assumed time that was meant for a dreaded project, turned into something else for one of you that day. you couldn't help but smile with him.

rush hour was gone, displacing as you had just spent and enjoyed your time in the opposing side with refills. the sun has simmered down from the blare of the peak afternoon, relishing in the shade more. the door rings like it has been, though much more sparse than earlier, but there was amiss.

drifted away, you were. as if an avalanche fell through you. green hair was all your vision saw, glasses gently placed, tucked beneath. you were dragged downwards.

"y/n?" xiao. right.

you tear your focus from the front of the store, to concentrated eyes on you instead. the intensity of his watch not what you were expecting. "y-yeah?" always managing to stutter at the worst times with him, you've noticed.

he's narrowed in solely on you. "are you okay?" even at the second of hesitance, he peers through at the rest of the store. you try to consolidate him even as your nerves are only rising higher.

"of course! really!" you're reaching over to him, anything to get his attention back and away from.. and your eyes are shut for that moment, regaining it in. "I guess we've been here for a while, ha." your throat feels dry and there's a sinking, heavy in you now.

at the sound of that he does look back, one of your hands still on him. you don't know what he sees and you're scared of it, but he keeps himself centered. "..I guess... so."

"this was really great." the truth or not, you were filling in the silence that was brewing, where both of you knew something was wrong. "I appreciate it a lot."

"it isn't a problem." xiao doesn't steer away from you again, and you don't stop avoiding it head on, a truly stubborn endless loop.

up until the door rings again and you feel yourself breathe, even by a bit, as all that's left is an ache.

"are you-"

"I think I'm going to head back for today." you don't hear the beginning of his question, mind clouded already.

"I can walk you half way there."

"no." your initial tone stuns him, direct and so far away. it was then that you felt it, the sharp tug that your own response gave to your heart, broken away from the stupor that felt like you couldn't control yourself. "sorry, i- I just need, a bit."

he watches as you scramble for your stuff; deep in his mind, he's calling out. a hand gently nudges the top of yours, on the stack of notes that was haphazardly thrown together. "it's okay."

and you get to breathe for that instance, before its no longer touching yours and you could only hold his gaze for a second of sincerity in the chaos of your brain, "thank you." a soft smile you muster.

as you leave the steps to the store, xiao stayed there still.

along with the money you left behind

.

mlist || prev. > next

an/ inspiration was hard to come by but i did it! and over 1k?! this is certainly a fun arc

[TAGS.] (tell me if you want to be added or removed!) @lazy-sanns @sukunasrealgf

#;conseq. not coincidence #genshin smau #xiao x reader #xiao x y/n #xiao x you #genshin modern au #genshin impact #yuewrites