#i need my own kitchen so bad. i need my own kitchen so bad

[egcdeath]

something old, something new

pairing: patrick zweig x f!reader

summary: when your childhood best friend asks you to get married, how are you supposed to say no?

word count: 7.2k

warnings: MATURE (mentions of sex but no explicit sex scenes), marriage of convenience, fluff, mentions of alcohol, patrick is a bad friend (but he improves), friends to spouses to lovers, fake dating, yearning and pining, everyone is bad at communicating, many feelings are being repressed, mentions of dieting in an athlete way, one singular creepy old man, no use of y/n

author’s note: i cannot get this tennis man out of my head!! i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

It wasn’t every day that you could count on hearing anything from your childhood best friend, but it seemed like whenever you did hear from Patrick Zweig, it was always an ask for something more shocking than the previous one. 

As kids, you spent many evenings doing the homework that Patrick didn’t want to do, despite the fact that you didn’t really want to do more homework either. At boarding school, you’d somehow become his personal designated driver, answering his calls no matter what time and groggily picking him up from whatever party he’d found himself at. In your adulthood, you found yourself becoming a go-to stand-in for him at events he didn’t feel like attending. The amount of times that you’d shaken hands at charity galas and introduced yourself as Patrick’s girlfriend, despite not having a single romantic encounter with him, was frankly astounding. 

It seemed like whenever Patrick needed something, you were the first person he reached out to. After his parents, of course. 

You dreaded knowing the reason behind the simple hey, text message you’d just received, but you were sure that you’d find the reason out sooner rather than later–and that whatever the reason was could not have been good. 

Like clockwork, only an hour after you’d received his message, Patrick appeared at the doorway of your apartment. He came to you equipped with his secret weapon, the kicked puppy look that he often used on you before he asked you for a ridiculous favor, like breaking up with his girlfriend for him or telling his mom that he still wasn’t joining the board of the family business. 

You sighed as you took his less-than-stellar appearance in. Downtrodden expression, wrinkled and sweat-stained shirt, as if he’d gone to the gym to sweat out his feelings before coming to you, and eyes so red-rimmed, you wondered if he’d been crying. 

If you had to guess, he’d either been arguing with his parents, who knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his tennis friends, who also knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his latest girlfriend, who probably confronted him about his own wrongdoings. Regardless of who had upset him, he had obviously come to you to lick his wounds. 

Like always, Patrick stalked inside without asking you for any further permission. The two of you had done this song and dance more times than either one of you would like to admit. 

“How are you?” he asked, stopping in your kitchen to steal an apple from your decorative bowl of fruit.

“I’m good,” you said with hesitation, eyeing him once more. He really looked like shit. If he hadn’t looked so sad, you would’ve told him exactly how much shit he looked like.  

“Aren’t you gonna ask me how I am?” he questioned, a little pathetically.

“No,” you walked off to your living room, fully expecting him to follow you. You were unsurprised when he did exactly that. “Let’s just get right to it. Why’d you come over here?” you asked as the two of you sat down on your couch. 

“My parents are cutting me off,” he explained, voice breaking as he spoke.

Surely, this couldn’t all be over an empty threat. They seemed to threaten Patrick with this every few days. In fact, you’d been in the room with him when his parents promised that he’d never see another dime from them–more than once. Every time, it ended with them coming to their senses and throwing more cash at him. 

“That’s what, the twentieth time?” you laughed. “They always threaten to cut you off. What’s different this time?”

“This time, they mean it.”

You laughed even harder in his face. If you had a quarter for every time you’d had this conversation, you’d be richer than the two of your families combined. 

“I’m serious,” he inched closer to you. “They’re tired of funding my ‘tennis habit’. They want me to get serious about life. To join the board and start a family. My dad showed me an edited draft of his will and everything”

“So?” you prompted, trying to figure out where you fell into the equation. Hopefully he wouldn’t try to put you up to something absurd, like seducing his father into convincing him to not threaten Patrick’s inheritance.

“So, tennis is the only thing I care about.”

“Okay…” you trailed off. “What would you like me to do about that?”

“I need you to help show my parents that I have a vision for the future.”

“Again, Patrick, what exactly are you asking me to do?”

“Marry me.”

You weren’t sure what you expected him to say, but it certainly was not that. Your mouth instantly dropped open and you were sure that you were gaping like a fish. Maybe if he had asked you ten years ago, you’d have instantly said yes, but you’d let that naive dream die after you’d come to realize the transactional subtext of your friendship.

“What?”

“I want you to marry me. I was thinking… you remember when we were younger and we made that pact, that if we weren’t married by the time we were adults, then we’d get hitched?”

You continued to stare at him, completely dumbfounded and not believing a single word coming from his mouth. “I… I…” you couldn’t even form the words. “We were kids!”

He gave you a halfhearted shrug, as if that didn’t matter at all, and as if he didn’t just ask you to be legally and romantically bound to him forever.

“You are fucking unbelievable! You haven't talked to me for anything other than asking me a favor in years, I barely know you’re alive apart from the random drunk texts you send me, and now you want me to marry you? Do you even hear yourself?”

You scoffed and stared at him in disbelief. “And that has to be the worst proposal in all of human history. First you tell me that tennis is the only thing you care about and then ask me to marry you? You’re a joke.”

He let you finish your rant, but after a beat he finally asked. “…Is that a no?”

———-

Stranger things had happened to you than marrying your childhood best friend just a month after he’d randomly popped back up in your life. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you walked down the aisle on a beautiful beach off of the Amalfi Coast.

The last few weeks had been an absolute whirlwind, with what felt like every second of your time consumed by making guest lists and invitations, booking hotel rooms, and finding a dress that you liked enough to get married in. Obviously, you knew this was more of an elaborate scheme than a celebration of love, but you wanted it to be nice anyway. For all you knew, you may never get married again.

You don’t know what possessed you to say yes to Patrick. Maybe the small, desperate part of you that had been begging him to truly see you since you were old enough to realize he didn’t, or maybe the desire to finally have that fairytale destination wedding you’d been dreaming about from the time you learned what a wedding was. Regardless of the reason, both of your families were overjoyed by the union. In one fell swoop, you’d been able to satisfy both of your parents’ desires for you to settle down, and you’d done it with someone both pairs approved of. 

You had to give props to Patrick, the ceremony was beautiful. Given the short timeline, the two of you decided to divide and conquer the planning of the event. You were sure that he’d outsourced the work, since he was still in the middle of his tennis season, but whoever he hired did an excellent job at giving you the wedding you’d always wanted. 

Despite the very short timeline everyone had been given, you were able to wrangle all of your close family and friends to Italy to watch you elope. Your parents had insisted on inviting second cousins and shareholders to your wedding, but you’d somehow convinced them that you and Patrick wanted a smaller, more intimate ceremony. It was probably better to have less people there, lest someone notices the artificial nature of your union. 

Part of you felt like you’d pulled off the greatest prank of all time as the two of you stood up in front of your small crowd, gazing as lovingly as you could manage into each others’ eyes while the officiant said his spiel, but the other, more logical part of you filled with dread as the reality of the situation began to set in. Patrick seemed to have a way of always dragging you into a shitty situation, and you hoped for both of your sakes, that that wouldn’t be the case for your marriage.

After what felt like a lifetime, Patrick began to recite his vows, claiming to have loved you since you were children, and promising to continue to love you ‘till death did you part. If you had been marrying literally anyone else, your knees would go weak with swooning. 

Unfortunately, you were cursed with the knowledge of the reality of your situation, one where your vows sounded more like: “We only have to stay married until I retire, which should be sooner rather than later. We don’t have to do anything together: no galas, no family dinners, no family vacations. Hell, you don’t even have to come to my games. And we don’t have to be exclusive either. This is basically just a title, so feel free to see anyone you want to. I can already see the worry in your face. Stop that. We can hire someone to make us prenups, so the divorce will be an easy, clean split of our assets. See? It’s not that bad.”

The dichotomy between the words he’d said to you a month ago and the bullshit he was spewing now almost made you laugh, but that was clearly not the reaction you were meant to be having when the love of your life was publicly declaring their feelings for you. 

Once he finished declaring his romantic, empty words, you began to read off your vows. They fell in a similar vein to his, a proclamation of a lifetime-spanning love that didn’t really exist in the first place. But when you glanced up at him from your slip of paper, he was really selling it. He stared at you like he adored you, like he wanted to study every inch of your face after running off with you into the sunset.

The ridiculousness of it all finally hit you like a freight train, and you managed to pivot the laugh that was creeping up into your throat into a weepy sounding crack of your voice. Surely people cried during their own weddings. 

You finished off your vows, doing your best to pretend like this whole ordeal wasn’t the most ridiculous scheme you’d ever been dragged into. You imagined a world where he was less selfish and you were less selfless, one where you were exchanging these vows with sincerity, and it helped you to get through the words that you knew were almost completely meaningless. 

The two of you then took turns placing the ring on each others’ fingers, with Patrick giving you a ring with the largest diamond you’d ever seen, and you giving him a band that had been passed throughout your family. He’d agreed to give you the heirloom back once you divorced, so you couldn’t complain too much about giving it away in the first place.

The announcement of being able to kiss the bride rang out in your ears, yet you still found yourself surprised when Patrick eagerly wrapped his arms around you and kissed you passionately. Cheers erupted around the two of you, and you pulled away as the officiant declared you Mr. and Mrs. Zweig.

You had successfully tricked your audience, and yet, you still had the strangest feeling. 

Your reception felt far more natural than your wedding ceremony. After a change of outfit, a huge bowl of pasta, and a few flutes of champagne, you were feeling substantially better about the arguably poor decision you’d just made. You chatted up your friends, who jumped at the opportunity to comment on how cute of a couple you two were, did some light matchmaking between single guests, and placated both of your parents with manufactured acts of affection. You even managed to get Patrick out on the dance floor, after he swore to you that he didn’t dance. 

By the time the two of you were stumbling back into your villa, the woes of the day had practically been forgotten. When you were having this much fun, who cared about a massive, potentially life altering decision? 

You immediately made a beeline to the bathroom, anxious to get into your comfortable pajamas and to wash your face after a long day of wearing tight, extravagant dresses and a heavy layer of makeup.  

“So what did you think of your big day, Mrs. Zweig?” Patrick called out from the other side of the bathroom door, where you were sure he was also preparing for bed. “Was it everything you wanted and more?”

“I think this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” you paused as you thought about something before confessing, “but it was everything I wanted and more.”

“Yes!” he celebrated from where you couldn’t see him, though you could perfectly envision the goofy look on his face. “I owe it to you after everything I’ve put you through. I just hope you weren’t too let down by the groom.”

“What?” you drew out before blowing a raspberry. “Of course not. You looked very handsome today,” you complimented in between splashes of your face. 

“You looked pretty beautiful, yourself,” he complimented you right back. 

“Aww, thank you, honey,” you emphasized the pet name. 

“Hmm, I don’t know if I like that,” you heard the squeak of the bed from behind the door as you assumed that he’d sat down.

“Hey, you’re the one who made me marry you,” you pointed out. “Am I more than you bargained for?”

“Of course not, babe,” he emphasized his own pet name, which sent you into a fit of laughter. “It’s just so weird to hear you refer to me as anything other than an asshole.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re still an asshole,” you replied as you walked out of the bathroom, donning an old shirt with the logo of your boarding school and an equally old pair of shorts. “Just a married asshole.”

You took in the sight of your now-husband as you made your way to your side of the bed, surprised to find that you quite liked the sense of domestic bliss you were feeling. The bed dipped as you sat down and glanced back at Patrick with the slightest bit of hesitation. 

“Is this weird for you? I can go to the spare room, if you want me to,” he offered, surely in reference to the two of you sleeping in the same bed. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him, setting a steady hand on his knee. “What kind of couple would we be if we didn’t spend our wedding night together?” you teased. 

“The kind of couple that marries for convenience?” he suggested.

“Hey, who’s to say that this isn’t love? I had the biggest crush on you when we were kids. Maybe some of it lingered, or some shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he looked at you with that sleazy smirk that you both loved and hated. “What happened?”

“Hmm… I think I realized that you’re a dick,” you matched his smirk with a challenging one of your own.

“Huh. Did you have this realization before or after you started seeing Dan Thompson?” he questioned.

You were surprised by the mention of your first boyfriend, particularly because you weren’t sure that Patrick remembered any detail about your personal life, let alone your love life. “I realized it after you started treating me like your workhorse.”

“Oh okay, so you had a crush on me while you were with your boyfriend. Good to know.”

“Shut up,” you groaned and turned away from him as you finally full laid down. 

“Would it make you feel better to know that I also had a crush on you?” you heard the bed sheets rustle as he scooted closer to you, and you turned back to face him. 

“You’re lying.” You couldn’t see any world where that would make sense to you. In your youth, it seemed like Patrick was always off somewhere with a new person, and none of those people were you. Not that you had an issue with it, but the thought that the two of you might’ve had crushes on each other at the same time without either of you pursuing each other felt kind of weird. 

“Nope. You’re the first person I ever jerked off to,” he said as casually as if he were telling you what he ate for breakfast, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Ew, you’re so gross,” you gently pushed him, but your hands lingered where they sat on his chest. “Was that supposed to be romantic or something?”

“That’s not romantic to you?” he asked with all the sincerity of someone who was fully committing to a bit. 

The two of you broke out into laughter. Once you finally caught your breath, you began once more. “This is gonna be a long marriage.”

“Hopefully,” he remarked in response. 

“If you keep talking to me like that, I will literally go get our marriage annulled, like right now.”

“Please don’t,” he whined, grabbing one of your hands from his chest and kissing your fingers. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Every time you promise to make something up to me, an inconsistent fairy gains its wings.”

“Hey,” his tone suddenly became very serious, completely catching you off guard. “I really am sorry that I’ve been a terrible friend. I don’t know that I’ve ever said it, but I am. You deserve so much better than me, and I don’t even know how I convinced you to do this for me.”

You almost started to laugh, unable to take the absurd situation seriously. You’d been waiting years to hear him genuinely apologize, and now hours after you’d married solely as a favor to him, he was finally telling you what you wanted to hear. 

“Please. I’m serious. I know you think I’m a piece of shit flaky ashhole, and I am, but I want to be a better husband to you than I ever was as a friend.”

You felt your heart stop beating for a second. The word husband sounded so foreign in his mouth. You couldn’t quite pin how you felt about it, but you knew you felt uncomfortable with the intimacy of his words. 

“Patrick, please shut up,” you squeezed your eyes shut, suddenly a little overwhelmed with the Patrick of it all. In fact, you couldn’t think of anything more encapsulating of your experience with him than the whiplash you got from that moment. He could be a complete asshat, but his occasional moments of earnestness kept you following him like a lost puppy, accepting his apologies and granting him ridiculous favors, despite your better judgment. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, moving closer to you to get a good look at you. You swore you felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. 

“I’m fine, I just-“ am overwhelmed by you being sweet? Can’t believe that I’m hearing you say this to me after so long? Also can’t believe that you and I are married?

None of the right words seemed to come to you, so you did the second best thing you could think of. 

You pecked his lips and pulled away as if you’d just touched a hot handle. You didn’t know what had come over you, and immediately began to apologize profusely. 

“Oh my god, I don’t know-“ you were cut off by his hands on your face, greedily and sloppily pulling you back in for another kiss, this one far more passionate and confident than the first. 

Your kiss was messy but fervent, years of pent up sexual frustration and non-sexual frustration behind your every movement. As you kissed, you moved to straddle him, feeling a little ridiculous in your ratty old clothes, but that didn’t stop him from groping you over your pajamas like you were the hottest thing on the planet. 

Maybe the strangest thing to happen to you that day wasn’t even your wedding.

——

That night was the first in a series of very strange events. You couldn’t even fully wrap your head around what was happening in your marriage. You just knew that the two of you had become closer friends than you’d ever been before, and that you slept together when either of you had the urge. It was basically a no strings attached situation, except, legally, all strings were attached. 

If you were confused by your arrangement, you were sure that your friends were even more lost, something they proved to you as they interrogated you over brunch. 

“So, just so we’re clear, you married him as a favor?!” your friend asked in complete disbelief. 

“Well… yeah, basically.”

“Shit. Can I ask you for a favor of a million dollars?” she joked, leading to the laughter of your other friends at the table.

“Well, that’s different. At least with our marriage, we both benefit. He gets his parents off his ass about being so focused on tennis that he doesn’t have any future prospects, and I get my parents to stop trying to marry me off to every single rich boy they find.”

“But you’re not like, actually married. Like you guys don’t have feelings for each other?” another friend questioned.

You sipped your mimosa before explaining your situation for what must’ve been the fifth time that day, “we’re basically friends with benefits.”

“But you’re legally married? Like, the wedding was official and stuff?”

“Legally? Yeah. But it’s literally just that,” you clarified. 

“Legal marriage and sex?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, hoping that they were finally catching on. 

“Then… are you guys seeing other people?”

“Oh yeah, what ever happened to that one model guy you were seeing?” another one of your friends pitched in. 

“It didn’t really work out,” you addressed that with an understatement. He rightfully flipped his shit when he found out you were going to be marrying someone else. “But neither of us are seeing other people. I don’t think either of us want to risk bringing anything back to one another.”

“That sounds pretty committed to me.”

“Not really,” you dismissed.

“Then why are you even together?”

“How many times do I have to explain how we both benefit from this?”

“No, not legally, or socially or whatever. Why are you hooking up with him? Aren’t you scared you’ll mess up your friendship or something?”

“Well, the sex is really, really good. But I’m really not worried. There's no romance between us. We’ve been friends for so long that it’s just… weird to look at him like anything other than my friend. It’s basically a loveless marriage of convenience.”

Your friend shot you a skeptical look. You just shrugged her off. 

———

The moment you found out your afternoon meeting had been canceled, you reached out to your assistant to make arrangements for you to go to Patrick’s tennis game. He’d been on a winning streak, and though he insisted that you didn’t need to come to his games, you knew that he secretly liked having you there. 

Over the past few months of your marriage, you’d grown to realize that he often didn’t say what he actually meant. Like the time he told you that he preferred to live alone, before breathily confessing in your ear that he slept better by your side. Or when he swore to you that he loved the pancakes you’d served him, despite the food being some of the worst you’d ever put in our mouth and him being on a diet. You almost found it sweet that he tried to prioritize your feelings over his own, which was surely a result of overcompensation from the way he had treated you for the majority of your lives. 

You arrived at his match just in time to watch him take a break, making your way into the stands and finding a seat where you’d have the best view of your friend as possible. You didn’t expect him to scan the audience and find you until much later on, but you were pleasantly surprised when the two of you made eye contact and he absolutely lit up. You waved, then gave him a thumbs up in hopes to communicate your support from far away. 

While you couldn’t always make it, you liked to play the role of supportive tennis wife. Getting dressed up and making an appearance not only publicly legitimized your sham of a marriage, but helped you to reconnect with some of your former boarding school classmates, who were often in the stands supporting a friend or a loved one. You also just liked to watch him play, as witnessing the passion and ferocity he had out on the court was extremely entertaining, and even at times, mildly arousing.  

With their break ending, Patrick went back out on the court and played just as well as you expected him to, crushing his competition, and looking up into the stands at you to celebrate once he’d scored the winning point. 

At first, it was surprising how proud his wins made you feel of him, a feeling that you explained to yourself by arguing that if he wasn’t giving his absolute all to tennis, then your marriage had basically been all for nothing. Although that did still ring slightly true, the truth was that you were simply proud of Patrick. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you were a unit now, which meant that his wins were your wins and vice versa. In some ways, it was kind of nice to be part of a team. Or at least his team.

You met Patrick down on the court, where he paused from packing his bag to immediately greet you with a kiss to the forehead, a small act of intimacy that was typically reserved for situations far different from the one you were currently in. 

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming!” he exclaimed, pulling you in for a half-hug. 

“I didn’t know I was coming either,” you instinctually wrapped your arm around him in response to his half-hug. “Great job out there. You kinda demolished him!”

“I did, didn’t I,” he said just loud enough for you to hear, still wanting to appear like a good sport. “I have to go get ready for the press conference. Do you want to meet me at my hotel?”

“Of course. You don’t mind me staying for the night?” you probed, despite knowing the answer. He wouldn’t have asked you to go to his hotel in the first place if he’d minded.

“You know I never mind you staying for the night,” he gave you a cheeky wink.

“You’re so sleazy,” you commented with fake disgust.

“You started it,” he replied, reluctantly pulling away from you and reaching into his bag to grab his hotel keycard. “I’ll text you when I’m heading back.” 

The moment you received a message about him being on his way to the hotel, you made a very lengthy phone call and request to the restaurant in the building. Technically, he shouldn’t be eating any of what you ordered, on account of him being on a strict diet plan, but you figured that he deserved it after playing the way that he did. Besides, Patrick liked thoughtful acts of service, and you figured that this would count as one.

“You know me so well,” he practically gasped as he stepped into the room, taking in the platters of food you’d laid out for him.

“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t?” you teased, though your sentiment was somewhat accurate, and it was clear that the two of you had grown to know each other far better over the past few months, you hoped that your friend wasn’t interpreting your words in too serious of a way. 

The two of you laid out on the pristine hotel bed, eating the feast that you’d ordered without much dialogue between you, other than a comment on how good something was, or a request to pass an item to one another. It felt oddly domestic, and oddly enough, you liked it. Maybe you liked it even more than you’d been willing to admit.

“I’m gonna go shower,” he announced after tossing his napkin onto a cleared off plate.

“Want some company?” you offered, raising your brows at him in a playfully suggestive manner.

“Is that what this is all about?” he feigned offense. 

“Maybe,” you trailed off. “Or maybe I just wanted to celebrate the greatest tennis player of all time,” you purred.

“Come on. You and I both know that is far from the truth.”

“Well you’re the greatest player in my heart,” you praised, much to his chagrin.

“Ugh. Shut up and come shower with me.” 

As you sleepily ran your fingers through his damp hair, you were surprised when he broke his silence with a comment seemingly out of the blue. It was more of a mumble than anything else, but you’d grown accustomed to his muffled words over the course of your marriage. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he randomly complimented you.

“You know you don’t have to compliment me to get into my pants, right?” you asked with a hint of laughter in your tone.

“I’m not trying to,” he pecked your arm–the limb he had the easiest access to at the moment–as if he was trying to emphasize his point, though all it did was bring heat to your cheeks at the reminder of the way he’d pressed slow and meaningful kisses along your calves and inner thighs while the two of you were in the shower. “You just looked so good today, I couldn’t not comment.”

“I don’t look good every day?” you asked facetiously, trying to deflect from the warm and fuzzy feeling his compliments and affection were making you feel. 

“Of course you always look good,” he reassured you rather than playing along with your game of joking instead of addressing your feelings. “I just don’t tell you that enough.”

You weren’t even sure how you could respond to that. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to mince words tonight, but you couldn’t bear to match his genuinity with cheap jokes. The only real, genuine thought to pop into your head were three ridiculous words that you immediately batted away. You couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing than randomly declaring your love to a husband who wasn’t really your husband in a marriage that wasn’t really a marriage. 

Out of ideas, you hit the lamp on your side of the bed. “I appreciate it. Goodnight.”

“Night,” he parroted back to you, remaining snug against your chest, despite the fact that your hands had stopped threading through his hair. 

Deep down, you knew that those three words had been on the tip of Patrick’s tongue, too.    

——

Being in the social circles of filthily rich people meant you often found yourself at random charity events, hosted by the nonprofits of families and business owners looking for a particularly large tax break for the year. Over the years, you’d felt that you’d seen and participated in it all: marathons raising awareness for a serious, but extremely rare disease, date auctions to raise money for a cause that certainly didn’t justify you having to go on a date with a man almost forty years your senior, or galas for nearly-extinct sea creatures that were essentially used as an excuse to stand around and network while drinking expensive alcohol and eating hor d'oeuvres.

You seemed to find yourself at a lot of events like the latter, including the one you were standing at now. The gala, which took place in the art exhibit it was raising money for, was a rather standard one, filled with the typical suspects who regularly attended those events. 

It was slightly ironic to be at the event with Patrick as your plus one, as this was the exact type of event he would’ve texted you about an hour before it began to ask if you would play his concerned partner for the night who told everyone a flimsy excuse about him being under the weather. 

It also served as somewhat of a reminder to you of the massive growth that your friend had undergone since the two of you became legally bound to one another. It finally felt like Patrick saw you as a true friend, instead of a reliable person who would do his dirty work. It finally felt like he cared. In some ways, your marriage was the best thing to happen to your friendship. 

Patrick returned to where you were standing, this time with two flutes of champagne and a delicious looking appetizer in his hand. 

“You’re too kind,” you said as he passed you your drink. 

“Anything for my wife,” he mockingly bowed in front of you and you chuckled and shook your head. Over the past year, the two of you slowly became slightly more comfortable with referencing each other as husband and wife, but only really as a joke. You guessed that in a lot of ways, that’s what your marriage was—a ridiculous inside joke.  

He was just about to feed you a hor d'oeuvre when you were approached by a wildly unwelcome figure: the man who had purchased a date with you a few years ago. Despite your one very awkward, stilted date, he never really seemed to get over you–which he made a point to prove at every event you both happened to be at. And unfortunately for you, his generous donations landed him on the guest list for the majority of these events. 

You were used to fighting him off on your own, as he seemed to come and flirt with you regardless of how inappropriate it was for the setting of the event, or even when he already had a beautiful young bombshell hanging on his arm. At this point, you’d learned to just tune his every word out and flee as soon as you possibly could. He was annoying, but he wasn’t dangerous.  

“Hey, honey,” he greeted you way too comfortably. You’d given up on asking him to call you by your name a very long time ago. 

“Hi, John,” you reached out to shake his hand and cringed internally when he kissed the back of your hand. 

“Oh honey, who is this?” Patrick immediately lept in, surprising you with his unsubtle passive aggressive tone and ridiculous use of a pet name. 

“You don’t remember me? I swear, we’ve met a few times.” John asked, trying to smile despite clearly being agitated by the presence of competition.

“Some people are more forgettable than others,” he said with a shrug. “How do you know my wife?” He emphasized the word and you pushed down the small inkling of pride you were feeling. Whether it was from watching Patrick try to scare this annoying man away from you, or being so proudly referred to as his wife, you couldn’t be sure.  

“Finally settling down, eh?” he directed at you, then directed his next statement to Patrick. “We went on a date back in the day.”

“It was for that one date auction thing,” you quickly added context, but paused when you took in John’s less than pleased look. He was a large donor at your own family’s nonprofit, and you were sure that your parents wouldn’t be too pleased with you if they found out he pulled out over you hurting his feelings. “We had a lot of fun, though.”

“We definitely did,” he chuckled and smirked. You wanted to punch him in the mouth. “We should definitely do it again sometime.”

It was clear that Patrick was not taking kindly to seeing you be flirted with so brazenly in front of him. Part of you wondered why he would be possessive, since part of your initial deal was that you could see whoever you wanted, even if that happened to be a creepy old man with a lot of money. The other part of you was enjoying seeing him so fired up. Particularly, seeing him fired up over you. 

“Our schedule is just so busy. Between work and us trying to start a family, I just don’t know when we’ll have time to see you again.”

Trying to start a family? That was definitely news to you. Although, the idea didn’t sound awful. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to start a family with their closest, most dear friend? 

“Well, she knows where to find me, right, honey?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, looking into your glass like it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

“Now if you don’t mind, my wife and I are going to go check out the exhibit,” Patrick announced, grabbing your hand and taking a step away from John. 

“You two have fun,” he said before clapping Patrick’s shoulder and leaning in to begin a stage whisper. “Make sure you treat her right and cherish her. If you don’t, I might have to swoop in and do so myself.”

He winked at you and you bit back a gag. 

“Don't you worry your wrinkly little head. Nobody lov- cherishes her more than I do,” he theatrically patted his back much like he’d initially done to him. “See you around.”

Did he almost say what you think he almost said? Surely you misheard him, or he was just playing up your relationship to scare away that creepy man. It really wasn’t anything to think twice about. 

Once the two of you had walked away far enough to be out of earshot, you finally addressed what had just happened. “Thank you, bodyguard. You don’t even know how much I despise that man.”

“He seems like he’s the worst,” he agreed with you, looking back over his shoulder. 

“That’s because he is,” you emphasized. “This is so random, but did you mean what you said earlier?”

Patrick suddenly paused, his face going pale like he’d just seen a ghost. You were a little confused by this reaction, as he’d said nothing to warrant that level of fear. 

“Do you actually want to start a family? Obviously not now, while you’re still playing tennis, but maybe eventually? I know we don’t have the most traditional marriage, but, I don’t know. Neither of us are getting any younger, and it might be fun to co-parent with my best friend,” you were clearly rambling now, but luckily, Patrick came in to rescue you for the second time that night. He looked far less aghast now. 

“I would love that,” he said to you with a genuine smile. You matched his with one of your own. 

———

“Do you have any big plans for retirement?” a reporter asked for the final question of the press conference. 

“Mostly just eating a lot of burgers. And maybe learning how to play pickleball,” Patrick responded, never one to give a serious answer to questions that weren’t explicitly about tennis. 

It was a ridiculous note to end on, but it felt right. You’d found that to be the case with most things in your life that pertained to him–most notably your marriage, which ended up being far more than you ever expected it to be.

After the press conference had come to a close, Patrick met you outside by the car, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, then leaning down to peck your baby bump. 

“How does it feel to be retired?” you asked, ruffling his hair while he was still bending down.

“It feels like you might divorce me,” he joked. Obviously your marriage deal was only meant to cover the time that he was still playing tennis, but after years of a complicated marriage that suddenly became significantly less complicated once you finally confronted the fact that the two of you very obviously loved each other, it seemed unlikely that your union would end any time soon. 

You glanced down at your baby bump, then back up to him skeptically.  “I hope you’re not being serious.”

“Come on, I never know with you. You’re the one who friendzoned me the entire first year of our marriage!” he exclaimed.

“That was a lifetime ago,” you countered before taking his hands in yours. “If you’re really worried, I have zero intentions of ending our marriage.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” he grinned, stepping away from you. “Let’s get going. I don’t want us to miss our reservation.”

You nodded and obliged, passing him the keys before heading to the passenger side of the car.

Once you sat down, you were overcome with the urge to say something. You had spent so much time bottling up and pressing down your own feelings, that it was now hard to resist letting things out when they came to you. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you blurted. “And I love you. So much.”

Patrick smiled at you genuinely, before his look turned into a slightly more devious one. “I love you so much, too. One might even say I love you more.” 

“Don’t even start with that,” you laughed, not in the mood to have the kind of back and forth with him that you had at least once a week. Considering that you were carrying his child, you were pretty sure that you were the winner of the love competition.  

“Fine. We love each other equally,” he conceded.

“That’s more like it.”

You tried to think back to one specific moment where your marriage had crossed over from being one of convenience, into a union with genuine feelings attached, and realized that you weren’t exactly sure. It could’ve been the first night you spent together, when you’d finally allowed yourself to consider what your relationship might look like beyond a simple friendship, or maybe it was even earlier than that, when you gazed into Patrick’s eyes as you read off your vows. The look of pure adoration he gave you was one that you had grown familiar with throughout the course of your marriage, but you hadn’t realized at the time just how genuine he had been. Or maybe even the moment Patrick asked you in the living room of your apartment, when you’d been the first person he thought of to carry out his ridiculous scheme, and you’d said yes despite every logical part of your brain that screamed at you to say no. 

Whenever it began didn’t particularly matter. What mattered now was that the two of you fully intended to spend the rest of your lives together. 

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig fic #patrick zweig imagine #art donaldson x reader #challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #josh o'connor x reader

[plumipal]

Last Name Dilemma

Yknow, this is purely for myself, happy me hating my last name. This is a yandere thing btw and please note that I am an artist, not a writer :,) so sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes

I had this amazing idea. If you don't really like your last name and get sucked into the world of twisted wonderland, why not just get a new one? It's very easy when you have suitors vying for your attention at every corner of the school! 🤭

It all started in the cafeteria...

Of course they were overjoyed you thought their last names were cool, did this mean you indirectly wanted to marry them? Well the game is on, and they for sure will win.

Much to their displeasure though, rumors speads fast at NRC, with everyone else quickly getting to know about your lastname dilemma. They are not backing down, wanting to burn the world down just to achieve their happy ending with you.

Ace

Of course you would want to marry him! He is your first friend in this wretched school after all! (Deuce would like to differ on that statement but yeah)

Ace may not be the richest, smartest or most beautiful, but he is your best friend, (hopefully) your first choise and (will make sure to be) your first love! Guy is serious. He will also pull all sorts of dirty tricks against everyone else, you're his bestie to marry no one else's!

Deuce

Ah poor little Deuce. Guy choked on his food when he first heard you talk about how cool their last names sounded. You think his last name is cool? Does that mean that you like him too? You wanna date him, marry him? Be his forever?? He is feeding into his own delusions and your words are only making it worse.

As soon as he has finished lunch he will excuse himself and make a call to his mom and tell her the wonderful news on how you and him will definitely get married! (He just gotta get you a sweet, sweet ring that you deserve)

Cater

Cater being quick on the trends, he was even quicker on the rumors about you having no last name (and definelty needing one). He has such a cute last name, it would fit so well with you! <3

He is already dreaming up the perfect magicam wedding, to show off how the oh so wonderful you chose him, and no one else. He also dreams of the private moments after, how you'll hold him as he sobs his heart out, so happy you chose him. He hopes these silly daydreams will soon become reality, cos he can't wait much longer..

He also definelty overloads you with his clones, giving you so much love you don't need to turn to anyone else for that :)

Trey

When Trey heard the rumors he sighed, feeling bad for how overwhelmed you probably are with everyone else's proposals. Well, come to him whenever you feel like it's too much, he will always make sure to lktsen to your problems (he loves the domestic feel to just having late night chats with you in the heartlbuyl kitchen as he prepares another batch of sweets for the next unbirthday party).

He will make sure that his own proposal of marriage is short and sweet, and he is sure it will win you over, who wouldn't want his sweets all day every day? He will make sure to feed and love you for the rest of eternity if you chose him <3

Riddle

Riddle is messy, he wants you as his spouse and he kinda wants it NOW, since he feels like he deserves it. You're the perfect match to him, the king of hearts to his queen od hearts...

He will show off how good of a husband he would be to you, how he will take care of you with a stable job, how he will help you with all homework and make sure you get special treatment on unbirthday parties. If he sees anyone trying to propose why they should be yours and not him, well, you know his unique magic...

Jack

Wolves mate for life. Jack wants to mate for life. Who does he want as his mate? You. You have changed his life, and he does not want to lose you, please. He is territorial, liking how your name would sound with his last name, now he just gotta make it happen..

Ruggie

Ruggie feels desperate when he hears the rumors. Why would you chose him, when you have literal celebrities, prince's and high standing people vying for you? Then he remembers, he owes you. It's usually the other way around yes, bur he owes you somehow.

With this he cooks up the amazing plan of giving you his last name as a thanks for that one time. He also gotta introduce you to his family, he knows granny bucchi is gonna peer pressure you into accepting marriage with him...

Leona

Leona will not lose you. He has lost so much coming second to everyone he knows. He will NOT lose you to anyone here, he will fight dirty and kill for you if there's a chance he gets with you. He has the money to hire help to get rid of people too, and that same money can sway you into chosing him, since that deadbeat crow ain't giving you a liveable sum to live on.

He makes sure to capture you for naps whenever he can, making sure to leave his scent on you, enough so most people can smell how he has been on you.

Floyd

Eeh? Shrimps wants a good last name?? Well with his you could scare oh so many away, leading to an easy life for you! It also leads to a fun life with you and him, and there will never be a dull moment in his life with you by his side!

Just don't take his last name with his brother yeah? Get with him instead.

Jade

Oya? The prefect wants a last name? A husband too perhaps? Jade's smile widens as he plans out how to trap you into a wonderful marriage with him. Perhaps some of his new mushrooms in his terrariums will make you tired enough to get you to sign a marriage contract with him?

Just don't marry his brother instead of him, he don't really know how he would handle that..

Azul

Azul feels himself become of sp happy whenhe heard the rumors. Finally! You will have him corner you as soon as he can, sweet smile on his face as he offers you a golden contract of his. He crafted it meticulously, making sure everything in it would be perfect for the both of you.

He tries to butter you up so badly, please he just wants you to himself, is that too much to ask for?

Jamil

Jamil has to hold back to use snake whisper, but he has it in case you chose the wrong option (not him). He wants you, he does that to lose you to anyone, ESPECIALLY KALIM. He probably uses snake whisper against others, to sabotage, to do anything. He just can't lose you...

He definelty shows off his cooking and cleaning skills, showing how he can be the perfect househusband for you. Look how good you could have it with him...

Kalim

Kalim is manipulative about this. He mat not be aware of it, bur he sure is. He wants you as his (spouce) bestie, and he will get that. Guy has never gotten a no, and he will not get one now (he hope atleast).

Let him plan you a grandiose wedding! With food, clothes, venue, parades and so much more worth millions and millions of thaumarks. He will space no expense for you!

Epel

Why is epel so roughened up? Why he fought for your hand of course! Isn't it manly to show off that you can easily fend gör your love? He also loves loves LOVES the attention you give him as you fix him up.

He feels so proud of the fights he won, wearing the scars like proud medals, so please take care of them before they get infected- he will only let you do it-

Maybe he will get into more fights if he can get your heavenly touch as a reward..

Rook

Rook stalks you on the daily, so of course he got to work as soon as the words left your mouth. He will hunt you down, get your heart and love and live happily every after :)

He 100% gets violent as well, bur of course you won't see that side of him! He wouldn't want to scare you..

Vil

Vil is certain you will chose him. He is the fairest of them all (niege don't count he is ugly), that is what you deserve. He will take care of you, especially your appearance. You've sent how he is with epel, now get ready for double that...

He dolls you up, makes you the best version of yourself so he can show you off on his socials,to mush it into that dumb nieges face that THE vil had you and niege doesn't. He is the fairest of them all with you of course..

Of course, he is the only queen worthy enought for your love and affection, so please just marry him already, he wants a Photoshoot together with you...

Idia (plus Ortho being STRICTLY PLATONIC)

I'm sorry but have you read his ssr story? Guy doxxes over nothing lol. He will breach your security if you tell him no, he has lost so much already, can't he have you please? You're the only thing he wants...

He will 100% use Ortho against you, backing you into a corner together with the robot. Ortho wants to make his brother happy, and he would be the happiest together with you. Ortho would also be so so so happy if you were his bif sibling too!

Theyve lost so much, they just want a happy family, together with you.. (ORTHO ONLY WANTS YOU AS A SIBLING NO WEIRD SHI AGAINST ORTHO PLEASE)

Sebek

Sebek has to run to lilia for guidance. Why has this human out this wonderful spell on him, why does he feel so lightweight? Why is his face so red? Why does he want to reject you for the rest od your days, more than he wants to protect malleus?

He wants to marry you. To have a wonderful marriage between human hand half fae, almost liek his parents... he will protect you at all costs. Please do love his loudmouth ass back..

Silver

Silver has no last name as well, so in his mind you both are already matching. He is too sleepy to actually do anything other than fall asleep with you.

Lilia

Lilia would snicker at the rumors. Ah, how he feels young again, silly what love can do to someone... he would love to help his son's with this, but sadly he wants this just as much if not more...

Malleus

Malleus does not want to lose his friend. His first and only real friend. He has tried to court you for so long, and now that you've dropped a hint that you wanted him (by saying you wanted a cool last name) he starts the royal courting traditions.

He follows all the traditions, step by step, being very careful to be correct and sparing no expense. He makes sure you see the future home of yours (the castle), his humongous hoard and his greatest treasure, gao gao dragon..

.. holy hell this was so much longer than what I expected. Well, who would you go for? Do tell :,)

Also, would yall want more long form content like this or way more short form? My asks got deleted so don't really have any to draw smhhh </3 so do send shi in please <3

#yandere ace trappola #yandere deuce spade #yandere cater diamond #yandere trey clover #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere leona kingscholar #yandere ruggie bucchi #yandere jack howl #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere jade leech #yandere floyd leech #yandere kalim al asim #yandere jamil viper #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere rook hunt #yandere epel felmier #yandere idia shroud #yandere malleus draconia #yandere lilia vanrouge #yandere silver #yandere sebek zigvolt #yandere twst #yandere twst art #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland art #yandere art #my hands hurt

[latenightdaydreams]

I'm thinking how Konig would react when his wife call him with full him in an argument (about culture bc I'm Asian ehe), like it's a sign of seriousness.

It's the same in my culture! I love thinking about giant König just freezing knowing he went too far😶

Laundry Day (fem)

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, argument, fluff

.

.

König has recently retired so that means that he is home constantly now. It means that you both get to spend a lot of time together and you love it, but sometimes he talks to you as Colonel König instead of just your Kö. Today was one of those days.

König comes into the laundry room wearing a towel around his waist as he has just gotten out of the shower. He is holding black workout shorts in his hand with an annoyed look on his face.

“Y/n, you didn’t wash my gym clothes?”

“No, today I only washed bed sheets and towels so far, I’ll get to them.”

“Nien, I told you to wash them last night.” He snaps back quickly.

At this point König is becoming very demanding and his voice has become stern, as if you’re his subordinate. You continue to fold towels and place them into the laundry basket. Trying to remain calm to not make König explode further. After a lifetime in the military, he has remaining traumas and it causes him to act out. You try to not take it so personally, but it’s hard.

“I know, but I wasn’t aware you needed them for today.”

“Of course I would, I work out every day!” He raises his voice slightly.

You take a deep breath, placing the towel down and turning to him. “Yes, but I wasn’t aware that you had no more clean-”

“Why would I ask you if I had clean clothes!” He cuts you off and yells this time.

You tighten your jaw and glare at him. You might be smaller than him, but you aren’t going to just let him walk all over you.

“Maybe next time you should inform me of your schedule and I-”

“Ich bin dein Ehemann! You do what I say, when I ask!” König’s pale face turns bright red as he yells at you, holding up his shorts in a bit of blind rage directed at you.

You’ve had enough, he knows better than to speak to you this way. You toss the basket of clean towels on the floor and turn towards him. The look in your eyes puts fear in the giant man’s heart.

“Alexander Jan König! You DO NOT speak to me that way!” Your voice is loud and stern.

König looks at you with wide eyes and a slack jaw. He is stunned, he isn’t used to people speaking to him like that; especially not his sweet wife. He doesn’t say anything. His face softens and his shoulders drop. His pale blue eyes glued to you, he’s still too scared to move or say anything.

“Do you understand?!”

“Ja-y-yes.” He stumbles over his words as he stands up straight.

“Good!” you walk past him out of the laundry room and he just watches you go before looking back down at the towels on the floor. He listens to you stomp away and slam the bedroom door. He is terrified, but also slightly aroused. 

He quickly bends down and begins to clean up the towels on the floor. He begins to start the washer to clean them again for you, he also plans on drying and folding. He goes back to the bathroom and grabs his own gym clothes and gets them ready to be washed next. 

Going into the kitchen, he saw dishes in the sink and began to wash them for you. He looks at the clock once he is done and only twenty minutes have passed, but he is still in his towel from the shower so he tries to go up into the bedroom to see if you’re okay.

As you sit on the bed with your arms crossed, still angry, you hear a light knock at the bedroom door.

“Liebling?” König’s voice is gentle as if he’s talking to a child.

“What?”

König opens the door slightly and pokes his head in. His eyes meet yours and he smiles at you timidly.

“Hallo mein Herz, can I come in?”

“Sure.”

König walks in like a dog with his tail between his legs. Your eyes travel over his attractive body as he makes his way to the bed and sits at the edge.

“I-I’m sorry…” the words struggle to leave his lips. Not because he doesn’t feel bad, but because his ego is so fucking big. “I’m sorry I snapped.”

You continue to just sit there and look at him as his head is dropped and his gaze is to the floor, “And what else?”

He turns his head to the side to look at you but quickly looks back away when he sees how mad you still are.

“And I’ll never do it again.”

“And?”

“I’ll take you out tonight for dinner, I can buy you whatever you want.”

You just look at him, up and down. A small smile comes up across your lips. You love to see this behemoth war criminal melt at your feet like this.

“Good. I also want a massage.”

“Absolutely.” König nods while he looks at you. “I’m very sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

König looks at you with a genuine sympathetic look in his eyes. You're the one person in this world that understands him, he never meant to hurt or lash out at you.

“Thank you for apologizing Kö.”

He reaches his hand out for yours with a small smile on his lips. You reach out and intertwin your fingers with his. König can feel himself begin to relax as he squeezes your hand.

#konig #konig x reader #könig #konig cod #konig x y/n #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig angst #konig x female reader #konig fluff #könig fluff #fluff #cod konig #konig x you #könig call of duty #könig x y/n #könig x you

[pomefioredove]

Just read the whole "Yuu gets sold off by Crowley" stories and OMLLL THEYRE SO GOOD XDDD Any chance you could do more on it like if Niege won or if the parents heard about it and also decided to adopt Yuu and Grim?? Maybe the other staff adopting her too or more on Crewel's adoption please???

requests for the crewel ending are in high demand I see...

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | 'bad' ending | RSA ending

summary: a crewel ending type of post: short fic, mostly speculation characters: crewel ft. other staff additional info: platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, definitely pre-book seven, parents being cringe

If Crewel were allowed to beat Crowley to death with one of his designer handbags, he would have.

...Unfortunately, with the adoption paperwork fees (...and a need for more designer handbags), he regrettably still needs this job.

And he'd like to keep an eye on you while you're still here, too.

The animosity between Crowley and the rest of the staff is unspoken, shared through passing glances and dry remarks at meetings, and though the matter is "settled", in Crowley's own words, no one seems keen on letting it go anytime soon.

The students who participated in the bidding war are subject to months worth of extra homework, harder exams, and worse studying hours from Crewel himself. To teach them a little responsibility, he says.

You, at least, are exempt from his radical new lesson plan. You have enough on your plate as it is.

After all, as soon as the legal proceedings are through and your identity as an autonomous human being in Twisted Wonderland is secured, the "fun" begins.

Your uniforms are tailored and rightly fit, you're given a proper meal plan, even Ramshackle is decorated with a few of Crewel's personal touches. A throw rug here and there, a fresh coat of paint, anything to cover up the rotting interior and turning it into something worthy of envy.

"...Given that Grim doesn't start shedding everywhere," Crewel had said. "Ugh, pets."

The rest of the staff are just as helpful, citing your recent experience with the bidding war as reason to take it easier on you for a while (or for the rest of the semester, really). Trein gives you less homework, Sam "accidentally" doesn't ring you up a few items...

It starts to feel more like the entirety of the staff has adopted you.

Not that you mind, of course. This is the closest thing you've had to family since... well, since coming here.

There's just the one thing, though.

"I don't know why you waste your time with those untrained pups. Honestly. The idea of their tacky shoes touching the rugs in here..." Crewel sighs. His eyes turn to you. "You know, I hear Vil Schoenheit has been looking for someone to take to his next shoot..."

Ashton chuffs. "Don't be ridiculous, they need someone who's strong enough to take care of them! Kingscholar is a real star once he gets motivated,"

"Please tell me I didn't just hear that," Crewel massages his temples. "And might I add, I'm their father, not you. I give the blessing. You're more like the unwelcome uncle crashing the family barbeque."

Grim nudges you with his elbow, muttering a quick yikes before darting out of the kitchen. You groan in embarrassment. "Guys..."

"I'm just thinking about what's best for them," Ashton says, puffing out his chest. "They're at an age where they're going to start thinking about dating, and we want them to make good choices."

"Guys,"

"Exactly. Schoenheit is a perfect gentleman, a master in my class, and has the style to back him up. Kingscholar can demonstrate occasional intelligence, but he's still another housecat," he shudders. "The shedding..."

A tired voice from the doorway interrupts their tense back-and-forth, much to your relief.

"Goodness, the two of you, at this again?" Trein scoffs, taking a seat at the table. "This conversation is highly inappropriate. You shouldn't be controlling the poor thing's romantic prospects, if they even have them. When the time comes, the choice will be theirs to make."

Crewel huffs, rolling his eyes and leaning against the table. Ashton kicks his feet. And neither utter another word.

"Good," Trein says, then clears his throat. "Ahem. But that's not to say that we can't offer our guidance. That Vanrouge did quite well on the last History of Magic exam..."

You groan.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #staff parents being EMBARRASSING and CRINGE compilation #queued

[cyber333angel]

getting spanked by rafe because he saw you talking to a pogue..

you have been rafe camerons girlfriend for a long time, everyone knew you were his. there were signs to tell that you belonged to him all over your body. from the gold anklet that dangled on your foot, to the “r.c” tattoo that is branded under your boob, flexing when you wore a bathing suit . except not everyone chose to acknowledge how much you meant to rafe.

you and your boyfriend were currently at a party, it was a typical kook house and owned by one of rafes friends, kelce. sitting on the couch for about 30 minutes you watched as your boyfriend sold coke to a broad amount of people, you knew he sold and you honestly didn’t mind. but it did get very tiresome to watch. “rafey m’bored. we’ve been sitting here like allll day! it’s a party, i wanna actually do something!” your boyfriend ignored you, persuading a customers into buying some coke. “rafey!” you grip his arm and looks back at you “kid, can’t you see im working? go play with your girlfriends or something till im done.” you pout at him and mumble “y’re so annoying.” him not paying attention to you, you leave and go find someone who is actually willing to talk to you. you find a friend of yours and drink a couple of shots in the kitchen but she tells you that she needs to go the bathroom, you nod and stay put. soon after you see an old friend.

“oh m gee! hey jayj!” you have known jj maybank since you childhood. both growing up as “pogues” but since your parents had a good business they grew into more money, naturally making you two grow apart. “hey princess. how’s kook life been treating’ya.” you roll your eyes and talk to him for while. back at the table rafe hears from a friend that he caught his girl flirting with a pogue. instantly aggravated from the rumor, he makes his way to the kitchen, finding you with all smiles talking to some guy. furious, he steps between you and jj, “heard you were-uh flirting with my girl, is that-that true?” he looks at him picking a fight, you attempt to explain the misinterpreted scene to him “rafe-“ he pushes your arm away. “nah let the fucking pogue answer, baby.” his patience was gradually thinning out.

“calm down dude , theres literally zero reason to get heated.” jj says “no one was macking on your girl, alright trust-“ he was cut off by rafes fist connecting to his face, making him stumble to the ground. rafe grabs your hand and pulls you out of the kitchen “rafe what the hell! why would you do that, we were just talking!” ignoring you he makes his way to his car and opens the passenger side. you pout, “m’not getting in with you if your angry rafey.”

“sweetheart get in the fucking car, i promise you it will only be worse if you keep testing me, go sit in the car.” whimpering at the unsympathetic tone you sit down, you decide it’s best to stay quiet the whole ride. he pulls into the driveway of tannyhill and you try a last attempt to explain yourself. “rafey please listen t’me! I really was just catching up with him! I hadn’t seen him-“ rafe has his head down, rubbing his eyes. you quiet down when he puts his hands on your thigh, rubbing it up and down gently. he says calmly “go up stairs to our room and take all that shit off. when I get up there I want to see you with your ass in the air and your mouth fuckin shut, alright?” you nod keeping your head down, knowing there’s nothing you can do now. up in your shared room, you strip yourself of your clothes and climb onto your bed, feeling nervous of the punishment coming to you. hearing rafe come up the stairs you quickly get into position with an arched back. you also hear a faint jangle as he steps closer, in front of the bed he takes both of your hands and handcuffs them. you knew where this was going but it was inevitable to run from. rafe appears behind you “you know what you did to deserve this right? know how bad you disrespected me in front of people, you-you understand that right?” you shake your head frantically onto the soft pillow “yes daddy I know, said m’ sorry already!”

“I didnt ask all that, what your gonna do is count each time you get a spank alright? you can do that hm baby?” you nod again “yes daddy..” he pulls you by your waist to the edge of the bed, taking a seat and pulling you onto his lap, your legs and arms dangle off his thighs. you close your eyes and the first spank lands, a loud “pap!” echoing in the room. it stings, you squirm around in his lap “ouch!” you cry, but do as your instructed “o-one!”

“stay fuckin still.” the second one is even harder then the first. rafe had already done five brutal slaps on your right ass cheek. “your taking it like such a good girl..good job baby.” your right cheek was already feeling numb leaving your left rear end a little alleviated. you know you’ll be bruised and hurting tomorrow. rafe sees some of your slick oozing from your cunt, he takes two fingers and plunges them into your sticky hole. you flinch and mewl, he chuckles. “you like that shit? you like when daddy’s upset?” the slaps did hurt but you couldn’t admit it did turn you on..well you didn’t really need to admit it seeing how the evidence was shown by how soaked your pussy was. “don’t worry princess im halfway done..” he spanks you once more, wincing, this time you couldn’t count. needing a minute from the intense sting. your boyfriend leans in close to your ear, “c’mon what number was that sweetheart?”

“s-six daddyy please m’sorry!” he mocks you “aw four more baby s’okay, you can do it.” finishing the intense ill-treatment on your ass, rafe helps you up from his lap. now sitting on him with a bruised behind and tears running down your face. “what’d we learn today sweet girl?”

“not to talk’to other g-guys and respect you.” he nods “mhm that’s right. I didn’t want to hurt you alright baby? just need you to learn to respect me and know who you belong to.” you nuzzle into his neck “s’alright rafey, i know.. can you make me feel good now daddy, please! m’so sticky!” he smirks at you “yeah of course..you did so good for me and I know how much this needy pussy needs to cum.”

#rafe x reader <3 #sorry jj 😓 #obx smut #rafe cameron #rafe obx #outer banks #rafe outer banks #rafe x black reader #rafe imagine #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #smut #he’s so mean in this but I like it

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Bleeding Heart Syndrome

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: angst, bucky kills someone, implied smut

Summary: Deciding to give this another try, you want to prove to yourself that Bucky is more than just the murderer you know him to be. He takes you to his work to show you that he runs a business like any normal person. However, when someone makes one wrong comment, you're reminded why your heart bleeds because of him.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: no modesty (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

It didn’t matter how many dates you and Bucky went on, you were still nervous to have him over. You decided to bring him over to your house for a homemade dinner. Your mother taught you how to make a delicious pasta dish that you were just dying for Bucky to try.

Bucky pulled up to your house with Steve and Sam in the car. Bucky checked the time for the tenth time since leaving his mansion. Living this double life was getting too hard to conceal. You were getting closer to him and asking all these questions that he couldn't answer. He was trying so hard to keep you in the dark, but how long could he do this?

Sooner of later, his past was going to catch up to him.

“Should we follow you up?”

“No,” Bucky sighed. “Just stay out here.”

Bucky got out, walked up to your door, and knocked. You jumped from the sudden noise but rushed over to the door. You opened it to see Bucky standing there looking drop-dead gorgeous.

“Right on time,” you smiled and let him in.

“Is something burning?”

“Shit.”

You left his side and ran to the kitchen. You yanked the pan off the stove and checked on the vegetables in there.

“Need help?”

“Actually, yes. My mom taught me this recipe but I never said I was good at cooking it,” you chuckled.

Bucky shed off his jacket only to drape it over the back of the chair. His muscles bulged in the tight shirt he was wearing. Forget dinner. You wanted him. Bucky took over the process and made it his own despite you telling him how your mom made it.

“Check on the noodles.”

You took a single strand of noodle and threw it at the wall. It stuck to it like it was glue.

“It’s ready,” you grinned.

After draining the noodles, you poured them into the pot that had the sauce. The noodles flowed over as a bunch so that they splattered inside, causing the sauce to spray out. You gasped when it touched your neck and Bucky smiled when he saw a red drop on his white sleeve.

“I am so sorry,” you giggled.

Bucky pulled you close and leaned down to press his lips on your neck. He licked a stripe up your skin to gather the sauce. Your giggle turned into a moan when you felt his lips latch onto your skin.

“No fair, Bucky,” you moaned. He nibbled on your skin right over the spot where you needed him the most. “Wait, the food needs to go in the oven.”

Bucky pulled away and quickly placed the dish into the oven at the right timer. He turned to you and grabbed your waist so he could sit you on the counter. He leaned in again but you backed away before his lips could touch yours.

“Wait, we only have thirty minutes before the food is done.”

Bucky tilted his head to the side and did some math in his head.

“Six times.”

“What?”

“I can make you come six times before the oven goes off.”

You didn’t have a chance to say anything as he whisked you away to the bedroom.

Now

You open your eyes and see that it’s not a dream; Bucky found you and took you to one of his mansions. Being back here will mess with your head in a way that makes you think you’re not going to survive this. Still, you get out of bed and push down those feelings. You don’t want to feel this way. You want to be able to love him and go on dates without fearing what will happen if someone bad crosses your path.

You want to love him in the way you deserve but you’re not sure how.

Someone is cooking something delicious in the kitchen, and your stomach rumbles to let you know that it wants food. You put a cardigan on and head downstairs to the kitchen where a chef is cooking breakfast. You must have passed by ten of Bucky’s men, all armed and ready for anything that might come their way.

This makes you feel like you’re in a prison, not someone’s home. Will you ever feel at home here?

“Here you go, Miss Y/N,” the chef says and slides you a plate of food.

“Not hungry,” you sigh and push it away.

“Eat.”

You look to the left and see Bucky walk into the kitchen dressed in a suit. However, his white shirt is untucked and open revealing his toned stomach and chest that you love so much. His tie is slung over his shoulders and his hair is damp from his shower. He is practically half-naked in front of his own chef and men. This man has no modesty.

“You’re not my dad.”

Bucky pours himself a cup of coffee before turning to face you. He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he finishes getting ready. Your eyes follow his fingers as they work their way down his shirt. He tucks his shirt in and begins working on his tie next, and you snap your eyes up to his.

“I’m not in the mood to argue. Eat.”

“No.”

Bucky finishes with his tie before walking over to you. He is so intimidating while standing but with you sitting down next to him, it’s almost impossible not to shrink back into your seat like a little kid.

“You can be pissed at me all you want but you’re not skipping out on a meal. Eat.”

“Or what? You’ll force me?”

Time seems to slow down the longer he stares at you. Then, he grabs your jaw not super tightly before forcing your mouth open.

“Yes.”

You push him away and grab the fork to show him you’re complying with his request. He waits until you take two bites before leaving your side to tend to his coffee. Damn, these eggs are soft and fluffy.

“Happy?”

“I have to go work,” he says instead of answering your question. “I’ll be back later.”

“Off to kill someone?”

“I do own a business, you know,” Bucky sighs. “A business that will crumble if I’m not there.”

“Can I go with you?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

“You want to come with me?”

“Yeah. It beats being alone in this house with a bunch of strange men with large guns.”

“There are many more are work.”

“Will you let me come or not?” you sigh.

“Go get dressed,” he says after a beat, “after you finish eating.”

You quickly down the rest of your food before heading to your room to get dressed. Bucky waits patiently for you to finish before escorting you to one of his luxurious cars. He keeps the music low and maintains a reasonable speed. For someone who murders people, you’d think he’d want to speed all the time. No, he’s too busy thinking about you and driving carefully in order to protect you.

You might think he’s a monster but he’s never stopped loving you.

When Bucky arrives at his skyscraper of a building, he leads you inside with a hand low on your back. The receptionist sees him and flashes him a flirtatious smile. She subtly fixes her dress to make her boobs stand out, and you glare at her as you pass by.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes.”

“Good morning, Tate.”

He keeps it simple without so much as a look at her but that doesn’t stop her from trying to gain his attention. She looks at you and almost shrinks back into her seat from the glare you’re giving her. You two step onto the elevator and begin the journey to the top floor.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” you ask and look at him.

“You’re giving her the same look you gave every woman who tried to flirt with me. Remember that poor girl you made cry on our second date?”

“Shut up,” you snap. “There is no look.”

If you could, you’d wipe that smirk right off his face. Thankfully, he drops it for now. The higher you go, the more men with large guns there are. Bucky wasn’t kidding before. You know what kind of work he’s involved in but how much protection does one man need?

“I’m in meetings for most of the morning but you’re more than welcome to stay in here. My computer password is pisică.”

“Of course it is,” you laugh humorlessly.

“If you need anything, I am only down the hall.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

Bucky resists the urge to go over to you and kiss you. You’ll come around and he just needs to be patient. As soon as he leaves the room, you walk over to the giant window that overlooks the entire city. Damn, he has such a nice view. You take in his office and notice personal pictures on his desk.

All of them are of you. There is one with you two standing in front of a mirror with his hand around your throat. You thought it would be a good picture at the time. You had just taken three shots before going to dinner so you thought this picture was a good idea. Another one is of you at the beach he took you to. He bought it out so that you two could enjoy some privacy and he caught you soaking up as much sun as you possibly can. The third one is of you laughing because you had pulled a prank on Bucky and he couldn’t miss an opportunity to snap a photo of your smile.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you taste salt on your lips. You were so happy in these pictures. This was before you knew what Bucky did. This was before reality slapped you in the face. You’re not sure what to do but you know how you feel. You love him so damn much but you’re hating yourself for loving a murderer.

You sit at his desk and log into his computer. He must not have anything incriminating on his computer if he’s going to let you snoop without him in here. All this power but you’re not going to snoop in places you don’t belong in. He trusts you and after all this time, you’re not going to let that break.

Instead, you go to Amazon and smirk when you see what’s floating around in your cart. If Bucky is so rich, he won’t mind if you spend a few thousand dollars on shit you want but don’t need. It’s not like he’s going to miss the money.

Bucky’s phone pings at a notification from his bank. Someone spent over five thousand dollars on Amazon, and he smirks when he realizes you’re out there spending his money. You might be doing it to spite him but he loves it when you spend his money. He confirms the purchase through a text message before returning his attention to the many men inside the conference room.

Some of the men are involved with different mafia’s from around the country, some men are CEOs of different businesses, and some men are important in their perspective fields. All of them are interested in the weapons Bucky sells. He’s become so successful that he delivers to everyone across the country. They all flock to him like cattle.

“Gentlemen, I have an epo coming up soon in New York that will showcase the weapons I have for purchase. Of course, you’re more than welcome to come but the price is set. NO discoounts will be given.”

That sends some of the men in an uproar. They’ve been doing business with him for years and they’re still treated like first-time customers.

“Come on, Buck, don’t you think you’re being a bit unreasonable with your prices?” One of the Mafia men, Antonio, asks.

“You’re more than welcome to go somewhere else. Oh, wait, you can’t. I’m the only one with the shit you want so take it or leave it.”

Antonio shuts up knowing he can’t take Bucky on right now. Instead of fighting him, he leans back in his chair and stares at Bucky. The meeting continues on for another two hours as they discuss the weapons expo and Bucky’s telecommunicaiton sector that sells privacy for computers. Bucky looks at his watch and sees it’s almost lunch time so he decides to address one more thing before concluding this meeting.

“One last thing before this meeting is done.” He looks at one of the men who is one of the best drug lords in the couontry. “Race, tell your men to stay the fuck out of my goddamn bar. They’re brewing up trouble.”

“I can’t stop my men from going where they want to go,” Race shrugs.

“Maybe if one of them has a bullet in their heads, you’ll ge tthe message.”

Race rolls his eyes but knows better than to argue with Bucky. Before anyone can say anything, someone knocks on the door. Everyone turns their heads to you when you open the door and steps inside.

“Oh, sorry,” you sutter.

You turn to leave but Bucky stops you.

“Come here, pisică.” You walk further into the room and try to ignore all the stares you’re getting from the men. Bucky hates that they’re all looking at you like you’re a piece of meat but he doesn’t start a fight he knows he will win. Antonio keeps his eyes on your ass longer than the rest of them, making Bucky’s blood boil. When you get to him, he pulls you inot his lap despite the blush on your cheeks.

“Never be sorry for being where I am. What do you need?”

“I’m hungry,” you whisper, hoping no one else can hear him. “I wanted to go out and get lunch.”

“Take Steve with you.”

You look into his blue eyes in thought. You don’t tell him that you wanted to go out to lunch with him. Instead, you nod and get off his lap.

“Cute girl you got there, Barnes,” Antonio chirps. “You gonna pass her around or what?”

You freeze in your step, clearly uncomfortable with his comment. Before, Bucky was willing to let his wandering eyes slide. Now, he’s a dead man.

“Take Steve with you to lunch. Go,” Bucky says to you.

Thankfully, you don’t argue with him. As soon as you close the door behind you, you hear the clear sound of a gunshot. If his comment made you freeze, you’re fucking rock soldi now. Still, you peek into the room through the small window on the door. Antonio is slumped over in his chair with blood splattered on the wall behind him. He’s dead. Bucky killed him. You look up and lock eyes with Bucky who still holds the smoking gun.

He hates that you’re crying because of him.

You immediately turn and run from the room to where the elevators are. You barely get on when you hear Bucky’s voice call for you. You turn to him with tears running down your cheeks.

“No, I’m fine, Bucky. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.”

“I wasn’t going to let him live after what he said.”

The elevator doors start to close but you put your hand out to prevent them from doing so.

“That’s the problem with you, Bucky. Your immediate response to everything is death. I shouldn’t have come here. You should return to your meeting. I’ll have lunch alone.”

You let go of the elevator doors and continue to stare at him until the doors closing breaks your eye contact. Your heart is breaking because he is the best thing to have ever happened to you, but how can you ever get past something like this?

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fiction #bucky barnes fan fiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel fan fiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fan fic #mcu #marvel #mcu fanfiction #marvel fluff #marvel fiction

[rafesbunny]

daddy’s money- r.c 🎀

where r feels bad for always using rafes money so attempts to get a job herself

you instantly regretted this, from the moment you put the greasy apron on and tied your hair in a tight ponytail which was sure to leave a dent in your pretty hair when you take it out. but you felt so bad for always using rafes money. if you even glanced at a new bag in a shops window when passing by you could guarantee it would arriving at your house not even a week later. you had sent in your cv to many cafes and little boutiques in kildare, thinking it would be easy money to help support your lavish lifestyle. you have never worked before always using daddy’s money and daddy’s money and nothing could have prepared you for the hell that is the working world.

you got called in to do a trial shift for a little family owned cafe in the town, and you were giddy walking there. rafe would have driven you but you couldn’t tell him what you were doing, he would never have let you go if he knew what you were doing. you would never have heard the end of it, he would’ve asked are you not grateful for all the hard work he does? and how he does all this for you not to work and how you’re practically disrespecting him by doing this. and you are grateful for him but every night before bed when your brain is filled with a million thoughts, you are engulfed by the guilt of always asking for more money from rafe.

as you arrived the boss instantly shoved a dirty apron in your hands, demanding you tie your hair up and that for next shift your freshly done nails need to be gone, and how this wasn’t a fashion show but a business. tears threatened to spill from your eyes, no one had ever dared to speak to you like this, being the kildare princess after all, but you sucked it up reminding yourself on why you are here.

after a few hours, the trial shift was coming to an end and you couldn’t wait to get home, deciding half an hour into your shift that you would never work a single a second ever again, and that you don’t mind living off rafes money now. not hanging around for a second extra than needed, you ripped off the apron and stormed out of the door, speed walking back to tannyhill as tears clouded your vision. all you wanted to do was take off the uncomfortably tight jeans they had you wear and shower off the greasy smell that lingered on your clothes.

tripping over your own feet, you let yourself through the tannyhill doors. a heavy sob escaped your lips which grabbed rafes attention who was sitting at the kitchen island with topper and kelce. “everything all good, kid?” he asked turning his direction to you, eyebrows furrowed. “jus’ wanna be alone!” you screamed back, storming up the stairs to rafes room. you slam the door behind you and collapse onto the bed, tears and mascara staining rafes fresh bedsheets.

downstairs topper asked rafe “yo, your girl good?” “yeah might wanna go check on her dude” kelce inputed. rafe hated when other people got involved with your relationship, so with a sigh and running his hand down his face, rafe got up and made his way to upstairs to you. making his way into his room he saw you curled into a ball on his bed. “what’s happened bun?” but all he got back was a pillow thrown at him and an annoyed grumble. “hey, hey. none of that. tell me what’s wrong” he demanded sternly. he sat down on the bed next to you, leaning up against the head board with welcoming arms encouraging you to come to him. as you snuggled into his side, him wrapping a firm grip around your waist keeping you close, you admitted through sniffles “just feel so bad for always using your money. thought i’d… get a job to pay for my clothes and nails and stuff but they were so mean and made me wear these f - fugly jeans and - and told me i had take my nails off. i’m so sorry rafe!” you cried out the last bit, hiding your face into his chest.

rafe hates seeing his girl getting upset over something he could have so easily prevented, especially when it came to money. “hey kid look at me now” he grabbed your jaw forcing you to look at him through your doe eyes, “never want you to feel like you can’t come to me for money. i do all of this just for you, baby. wanna spoil you, you deserve it pretty girl. trust me, i want you to use my money - daddy’s money.” a slight smile crept onto your face, knowing as long as rafe was around that was all you needed.

#rafesbunny #rafe cameron prompt #rafe #rafe cameron #rafe obx #bunny!reader #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #outerbanks rafe #rafe fic #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe x female!mc

[sehodreams]

hellooo!!! okay i needed to recover mentally from ur response because it was SO good TOO good i loved it sm omg<33333 losing my mind, bully!sungchan lives in my head rent free 24/7

i rly need sungchan to whore reader out to eunseok and anton at some point too id feel like they’d be so bad good to her<333 i imagine eunseok would be a bit of a meanie too but anton would be like.. awestruck, hed wanna suck on your tits and feel ur body because he’s never seen someone so beautiful before, would get soooo pussydrunk getting to taste you UGH

also not sure if i misread it and reader did squirt but like.. imagine if reader squirted for the first time with sungchan in eunseok’s bed🤭 and sungchan would never let you live it downnn

i imagine getting railed by sungchan and he’s teasing you about cumming in eunseok’s bed or blushing when anton called you over to him at the party or whatever and you clench around him at his words and he teases you so viciously about wanting attention from the other boys “you’re such a slut, you don’t need anybody but me baby” and would mark you so bad, leaving hickeys all over your tits and tummy<33333

sungchan would love to play dress up with you and keep putting you in slutty outfits and once ur crying and cumming, body shaking and completely wrecked by him, he’d give you soft kisses all over your face and whisper to you in ur broken state that he loves you so much, “you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, and you’re all mine” “i’ll never let anybody take you away from me” “you’re my princess, i promise to always take care of you”

It was a squirt, maybe I should've put a tw so others don't get confused either haha 😂. Oh, and also, just like you said, Sungchan will never let you forget what you did in Eunseok's bed.

I love that this is almost pure porn. He's so mean, I love him 😭🩷

I'm pretty much sure that he'll oblige you to cum like that again a few times, cooing in your ear how good you did for him that day, his little whore following his orders. "But don't act like you didn't enjoy it, you liked it, if not you wouldn't have let me fuck you there and cum again, so fucking dirty".

He's so mean he has you denying his words and then crying when he jackhammers into you, all deep and leaving you dizzy with how good his cock inside you feels.

He has that effect on you, and you love it as much as you hate it, you hate it because he doesn't let you think at all, and you love it because it feels good to not have to think for a moment.

But then you feel guilty, how could you do that to his friend you had just met? What are you, an animal? You can't leave things like that, and behind Sungchan's back, you organize a little meal to share with Eunseok to apologize, and you tell him to bring Anton if that would make him more comfortable.

When Sungchan arrives from the gym he sees you floating around the kitchen, doing a meal that he dies to taste because he loves your food, and when you receive him all pretty with that apron on, he feels like being less mean to you.

However, what would be of him if you didn't drive him insane?

When you tell him you're waiting for Eunseok and Anton, he doesn't feel angry at you, but he feels something he doesn't like, and he's asking "How did you even talk to them if not through me?"

"Oh, I just went to Eunseok's place, I was nervous, but I had to apologize, they're your friends after all" you answer.

His mind starts running before his mouth, why did you go without his permission? Even more, why did you go without him?

He doesn't say anything, leaving you alone to finish while he thinks what to do to you to teach you that you're not supposed to make decisions on your own, you have him for something, you're his girlfriend, his, his, his.

It seems you haven't learned your place even after all he's done for you.

When you happily smile at his friends, he pretends everything is okay, sitting beside you and even joking a little bit. "Did you like our gift?" He says to Eunseok.

"A lot, luckily it was before laundry day" the other immediately says with a smirk.

You blush in your place and Anton has to cough before telling you that the food looks great to change the atmosphere.

Sungchan changes the subject to some shit you can't understand, they talk about some memories and you lean to his shoulder when you sip from your glass. Everything feels normal, and you start to wonder, maybe that was the step you had to take for Sungchan to see that you could be a good girlfriend, and that you didn't deserve to be teased all the time.

When you take the dishes to the kitchen before dessert, Anton is such a gentleman that he helps you carry the dishes inside, and you can't help but smile when he praises you just like you wished Sungchan did more.

When Anton goes back to the living room Sungchan goes to the kitchen to help you, but when you feel him get closer to you from behind, you know he won't just help you serve the food.

"You like that? You like that you finally have some attention from someone that would've never looked your way if it wasn't that you weren't with me?" He murmurs.

"What?" You ask confused.

"Don't act all innocent" he says, one hand moving to find your panties under your dress to caress the skin under it, "I know you're wearing this dress, a dress I've bought, only because you want all our attention, but I'm sorry to say this baby, no one else wants to fuck your fat pussy other than me"

"Channie?" You can't even finish saying what you were thinking when you feel his cock pressing to your ass and then playing between your folds.

"You're such a slut, you don't need anyone but me" he groans when he plugs into you, and your mouth falls open, hands gripping the counter and teeth biting your lip so you don't moan loudly.

"Channie... Please don't, they're outside" you cry as silently as you can, shivering with the way the firmness of his body feels with the softness of yours, and, even if you ask him to stop, you lean more to the front, giving him a better access to your entrance.

Your pussy is wet, it echoes with the way he's fucking you, and your legs shake to the sensation of the cold air meeting your nipples when he, once again, just like that day at a party, pulls down the front of your chest to reveal your chest.

"They don't care, they're here, in my place, with my girl, they can fuck off if they don't want to hear us."

You don't nod, you don't try to run, you just let him, because a part of you knows they're listening to the wet sound of your pussy being fucked and your skin clapping, which as sick as it sounds, turns you on even more.

You imagine, as much as you don't want to, at them looking at you, staring with desire, and you even imagine them touching you a bit too.

Anton would be so nice, different to Sungchan, and Eunseok looks a bit meaner, which scares you, but not enough to not feel yourself getting wet at the image.

"Stop containing your moans" he orders, and for the first time, you don't comply with it immediately, maintaining your lips pressed to not feel more embarrassed.

Suddenly a fire starts inside him, because one thing is you act out, but now you're being such a brat, not following his orders the second he says them, and he can't let you do that. He gets closer, and pulling you to him, he grips your waist with one hand while the other finds your mouth and obliges you to receive his fingers inside, making you gag with the sudden push inside your throat and then stealing the moans you've been trying to keep silent so hard.

"That's better" he sighs when he hears you crying and gasping for air, clenching around his cock with the intensity of the moment, and soon finding your release with a couple thrusts more, deep and hard, filling you until you're sure you will leak down your seat.

He moves your panties to its place and grabs two dishes before he walks out, leaving you alone to fix yourself.

The front of your dress looks obviously different, he stretched it until it lost its form, and you doubt you could wear it again, such a shame, it was a pretty dress.

Anton can't meet your eyes anymore, and the two of them eat in silence before they leave. When you open the door for them, Anton looks down at your chest, a drunk look in his face similar to the one you imagined, and Eunseok is a bit bolder, touching your arm and telling you that he had a great time.

"Go to hell" Sungchan says, pushing his hand away from you. Still, you can't help but notice he hasn't done it immediately, and that they smile at each other before Anton pulls Eunseok out to leave, who maintains his eyes on yours every second of it.

When you're washing the dishes Sungchan does the same thing, he appears from behind, just that this time he hugs you with one hand while he pushes two fingers to check your insides, and making sure his cum is still there, he talks. "I'll never let anybody take you away from me."

#sehodreams thoughts

[noxemma]

Kiss and Make Up

Sam (grumpily barging into the bunker kitchen): That’s it! I can’t take it anymore!

Sam (physically picking Cas up off the seat where he’s been sulking and pushing him toward the hallway): Go apologize so you both stop moping around.

Cas (tired and sad, resisting slightly): Sam, I’ve tried. He won’t talk to me.

Sam (deadly serious as he starts dragging Cas to Dean’s door): Cas, it’s been FIVE DAYS. Five days of Dean binging Dr. Sexy 24/7. Five days of you both living in dirty pajamas, not showering, not doing dishes, tension so thick I might need to invest in SCUBA gear.

Cas: Sam, I’ve already apolo-

Sam (ready to tear out his hair): APOLOGIZE AGAIN! Apologize better. I don’t care how you do it, but please, please just kiss and make up already!

Sam opens the door and shoves Cas in. Dean sits on his bed, wrapped in a blanket, his eyes glued to the TV despite Cas’ sudden appearance.

Dean (gruffly): I know Sam put you up to this. He thinks everything will magically get better if you apologize.

Cas (slightly agonized): Dean, I really am sorr-

Dean (angrily): I don’t want to hear another word, Cas. Just, just get out!

Cas stands for a moment, at a loss and in pain at Dean’s harsh words. Then his brow lifts as he recalls Sam’s words.

Cas (whispering mostly to himself): Sam’s right. I’ve been doing this all wrong.

Dean finally turns on the bed to face Cas, evidently paying more attention to the angel than he let on. He is a little shocked to find that Cas has moved to be right next to him, leaving barely any space between them.

Dean (looking up, confused and concerned at the determined look on Cas’ face): Cas, wha-

Cas cuts him off by bending down, firmly cupping his face and drawing him in for a scorching kiss. Dean’s hands land tentatively on Cas’ hips as if he isn’t sure whether he wants to push Cas away or draw him closer. Cas finally pulls back and studies Dean, who looks stunned.

Cas (slightly breathless and oddly shy after the intensity of the kiss): Did it work? Can we make up now?

Dean (blinking and absently running his fingers across his kiss swollen lips): Whoa, um. Wait “make up?”

Cas (nervously rambling): Sam implied that my previous apologies were insufficient and that I should “kiss and make up” with you. I was under the impression that the saying was figurative but after you refused to hear my apology once again, I thought that perhaps it was meant to be literal and that’s why my previous apologies were poorly received.

As Cas speaks Dean realizes just how distressing his anger and avoidance have been to the angel.

Dean (stricken):  Dammit, Cas. I forgive you. Of course, I forgive you. I was just angry. You didn’t need to- I didn’t mean to make you feel like- *sigh* I’ve been an ass. I’m sorry it took you doing something as drastic as kissing me to realize exactly how much of an ass I’ve been.

The room is silent except for Dr. Sexy still playing in the background. Cas doesn’t meet Dean’s eyes, still convinced he’s in the wrong despite Dean’s reassuring words.

Dean (teasing at first but falling flat): Also, while it would be funny to see Sam get a taste of his own medicine, you probably shouldn’t go around apologizing with kisses. Someone might get the wrong idea.

Cas (horrified gaze meeting Dean’s): I would never kiss Sam, or anyone else.

Dean: Oh …

Dean begins to blush as he slowly comes to the realization that Cas has basically just admitted that he only wants to kiss Dean.

Cas: Was it bad?

Dean (confused): Was what bad?

Cas (whispering so softly Dean nearly misses it):  The kiss?

Dean (licking his lip and staring intensely at Cas): Oh, well. I was kinda surprised by it so I couldn’t really say. But, uh, but if you … if you wanted to do it again I could, um, give you some pointers.

Cas (misunderstanding Dean’s words): That’s … you don’t have to do that, Dean. In fact, it was rather selfish of me to ask. I don’t want you to feel obligat-

Dean (grabbing the bottom of Cas’ shirt and pulling him back toward him): Cas, shut up and kiss me already.

Cas obliges, settling onto Dean’s lap to kiss him deeply for several minutes. When they break apart they don’t go far, resting their foreheads against each other, breathless and panting,

Cas (half teasing and half serious): How was that? Better?

Dean (pulling Cas impossibly closer on his lap): Pretty freaking awesome … I mean, you should probably keep practicing.

Cas laughs a little as Dean presses a kiss to his forehead.

Cas (teasingly): I think I could get rather fond of this whole “kiss and make up” idea, although it’s a shame we’d have to fight in order to make up. Dean (flirtatiously): Well then, we should probably just start dating already and make the whole thing easier, boyfriends fight all the time. Cas (shocked, like he didn’t really expect Dean to suggest dating): You think we should start dating? You want to be my … boyfriend?

Dean (fidgeting a bit under Cas and not making eye contact): Um, yeah? If you want me to, but we don’t have to label it or anything if you don’t want. I’m happy being whatever you want me to be. Cas (beaming with happiness and tilting Dean’s head to catch his eye): Boyfriends sounds wonderful. And, as your new boyfriend, I suggest we both shower.

Dean (gasping dramatically): Are you suggesting I stink?

Cas (somehow both sensually and stoically): I’m not denying it, just suggesting that, since my kisses still need practice, I may be able to perform other actions to make up with you. In the shower. Together.

Dean (squirming as Cas punctuates his sentence with a kiss on his neck): Oh. Oh! That’s a great idea, Cas.

They exit Dean’s room, hand in hand, and head down the hallway.

Sam (gloating as he witnesses the hand holding): Finally! Maybe I’ll actually get some peace around here now that they’ve stopped fighting and admitted their feelings.

Muffled moans, gasps, and grunts begin to filter through the thin bathroom door. Sam (horrified and muttering to himself as he puts in earplugs): It’s better than fighting, it’s better than fighting.

#destiel #deancas #spn #fanfic #destiel fic #fanfiction #the brainrot is always rotting #supernatural #I should be working on one of my WIPs but at least I'm writing #I don't even know what they're fighting about lol #probably something dumb like Cas eating the last piece of pie or watching the next episode of their show without Dean #self indulgent writing #this was supposed to be like 300 words but now its somehow 1k

[angelofsmalldeaath]

wasteland, baby! — a.h.b.

cw: mentions of food (cake), kissing

“is that…” he trails off, coming to a standstill at the threshold of the kitchen. i freeze, spoon halfway to my mouth and give him a sheepish smile. 

“you weren’t supposed to be awake!”

“neither were you!” he accuses, walking in, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the sleep. his hair is matted on one side, his big old sleep t-shirt almost sliding off his shoulders. 

“you heathen,” he sits next to me on the kitchen floor, placing a quick kiss on my lips, “that cake was for tomorrow.”

i shrug, stuff another spoonful of the chocolate monstrosity in my mouth. 

“i was feeling existential. the cake helped. besides,” i scoop some more on the spoon, hold it in front of his mouth, “when did you even get this?”

he smiles and shakes his head, then takes the bite of the cake and sighs. his face relaxes, soft and pretty in the dim moonlight shining into our kitchen. “oh, that is good! i timed it for after you’d have gone to bed. so it would be a surprise.”

“it was,” i giggle, “i was absolutely delighted when i opened the fridge.”

he snorts and takes the spoon from me. just as i’m about to protest, he scoops up some of the chocolate frosting and shoves it in his mouth. then he smiles at me—a proper chocolate covered toothy grin to match my own until we both burst out laughing. 

“weren’t you calling me a heathen just now?!”

“that was before i tasted the cake,” he holds his hands up in defence. a moment later, he sobers up, clears his throat. 

“why were you feeling existential?”

“mmm, maybe because in—” i sneak a glance at the clock on the microwave, at the glowing 23:57, “—three minutes i’ll be another year older.”

“and is that so bad?”

i toy with the spoon in my hand, absently carving a circle around the cherry on the cake. “i don’t know. i wish i did though.”

he’s quiet for a bit, thinking maybe, staring at me—my face and my eyes and my lips until i shy away from his gaze. “what if it’s really really good? the happiest year of your life?”

“and after that?” i giggle “does that mean it’s all downhill from there? the beginning of the end?”

he tsks, lightly flicks me on the forehead. “why does that matter now? today?”

i shrug, eat another spoonful of cake. he takes the spoon from me and takes another bite too. 

“i suppose it doesn’t. maybe future me should deal with that existential dread. sat here on this same kitchen floor, two minutes before midnight.”

“is future you also stealing your own birthday cake?” he snorts, teasing me affectionately. 

i blow him a raspberry, and when he laughs i take him in, take in the crinkles around his eyes and the chocolate on his lips. i take in his sleepy hair and the softness of his old t-shirt—all of it so familiar, all of it made of love and love and love and—

“need me to kiss you until you forget everything else?”

“yes please!” i set the cake aside and jump in his arms.

his soft lips somehow taste sweeter than the cake. his body is warm—firm and so so familiar that i melt like there are no bones in my body. as if my body is made to fit against his, moulded to match the hollows and crevices of him, made to fit together. he caresses my cheek, smiles softly against my lips. and when he holds me close, i know he never intends on letting me go. 

“happy birthday, my love,” he whispers when i pull back to catch my breath. the clock on the microwave reads 00:00—the start of a new day, a new year too. 

“it’s a good way to start it,” i laugh and press another kiss to his lips.

“better than eating stolen cake?”

“you ask tough questions,” i tease. 

he rolls his eyes but picks up the cherry, nudges it against my mouth. “go on, you get the cherry on top.”

i bite into it, sighing at the sweetness. “i think you’re right. maybe it will be really really good.”

“you think so?” he picks up the spoon again and takes one more bite. 

“i do.” i take the spoon back from him, take my last bite. “and if it isn’t, well…at least i can be back here with you, eating stolen cake on the kitchen floor.” 

#this is so incredibly self indulgent whoops #hozier x reader #andrew hozier byrne #hozier #hozier fluff #wasteland baby #Spotify

[voidandabyssal]

Heyy i saw your request are open :D, im sorry if this is cringe but can i get uhhhhh....can i get a uhh...can i get the lovely undertale and underswap boys with a tired s/o who came back from school or work

Some context:

One day i came back from school and i literally just pass out cold on the sofa and slept for a good 4 hours until my parents woke me up lmao

I wanted the boys reacting to that kinda scenario, would they be worried? Would they be chill? It's in your hands now 🥸✊️

Also thank you so much for be writing for undertale i love your works, please take as long as you need, no pressure

Take care 👋

Fear not anon, cringe is dead and I am busy burying it 6 feet under

Sans:

Sans spots you knocked out cold on the couch soon after returning from his own tiring job

He joins you right away

Sans doesn’t want to push you awake or anything so he just collapses on top of you.

Luckily he’s pretty light so him crashing down onto you doesn’t wake you up

If Papyrus doesn’t catch either of you two, then you’d both probably sleep until the next day

When you do wake up (likely to the sound of Papyrus’s lecturing) you accidentally shove Sans off of you

He goes crashing to the floor. The perfect wake up call for such a lazybones! (At least that’s Papyrus’s opinion)

Papyrus:

Like Sans, Papyrus walks in to you already passed out on the couch

He gives you the deepest, most withering look he can manage and exhales the most disappointed sigh he can give

You are spared the wrath of Papyrus’s lecture, for now! He is much too busy finishing up this year’s paper work!

(He can also see how tired you are so he leaves you be)

At least until it’s 8pm and your still knocked out, then he shakes you awake

Though he doesn’t lecture you

He really shouldn’t encourage such lazybones behaviour! But he also noticed how tired you were lately

He can make one exception, just this once though!

Blue (us sans):

Blue was too busy cooking in the kitchen to notice your long nap

When he goes out to get you ready for dinner he notices you

Weren’t you napping like 4 hours ago?! Blue gasps, have you turned into Stretch?! Has his brother’s bad habits finally rubbed off on his favourite human?!

He has a moment of silence for you before he tugs you out from the couch and plops you down on the dining room chair

Can’t sleep if you’re too busy eating

Blue also tries to feed you some sweet desserts! Then you’ll have more energy!

Then you can hang out more!

Stretch (us paps):

You’re so tired when you get home that you fall asleep on Stretch. Just collapse on him like as he lays on the couch watching the latest nabstation show

Stretch wraps his arms around you and follows you right into sweet, sweet unconsciousness

He wakes up briefly just to chase Blue off from bothering either of you

Then he carries you up to his room. There, now you can sleep fully uninterrupted for however long you want

He regrets doing that when you both wake up at 3 in the morning and have all the energy in the world

(You accidentally wake up Blue and now you’re both stuck listening to his lecturing. Send help!)

#cringe is dead #by a self shipping undertale blog #2016 cringe culture fears me #undertale #undertale au #sans x reader #undertale headcanons #sans undertale #voidimagines #papyrus x reader

[my-castles-crumbling]

omg okay, I feel like u caused a revelation. 

probably one I should’ve already had. 

“I think it’s possible for you to have had a great childhood AND not be supported now” - You. 

I thought I was. Supported. Now. Because they’ve been doing everything they’ve always done, right? So it was normal. BUT, if they were really supporting me, they’d be supporting me. In the ways I need to be supported, not just the ways they want to support me. 

It’s Purple anon btw :) Ur really good at this advice thing. Like genuinely. Thanks. 

Also you ready? I HAVE NEWS. 

Ask her if it was a date. You make it sound so easy Cas. 

But I decided it was infinitely more embarrassing for it to be a date and I didn’t realise than if it wasn’t a date but I asked if it was. So I asked… 

you ready? (also please be prepared for how absolutely incredibly dumb i’m about to seem. benefit of hindsight and all?) 

Me: *in the kitchen with her, drying the dishes she’s just washed after dinner cause we don’t have a dishwasher- background music was my Chappell Roan playlist, just to set the scene* Hey so, I had the best time on Wednesday. Thank you for planning all that, you’re amazing. 

Daisy: You’re welcome. I had the best time too. Oh and I named the bear, which is getting more adorable everyday, just so you know. I named it Candy. After the road we met on. 

Me: The road? 

Daisy: Yes. The road. I cannot believe you. You don’t remember? 

Me: I- how do you remember that? 

Daisy: I met you. Of course I remember. A invited me to that adorable house party at her friends place, and as if it were in a movie, when I went outside to the street to get some air, on the left was the road sign, and on the right was you. I mean A was there too but who cares? I’m pretty sure she introduced us but I don’t remember what she said. 

Me: And you’re offended I don’t remember? I might not remember the name of the damn road, but I do remember everything she said about you. And your ridiculous outfit that night.  I never did find out where the hell you got that purse from.

Daisy: I stole it from my mum.

Me: But you told everyone a few months later that it got ruined at that party? 

Daisy: Oh yeah it got stained bad. And it was all your fault. 

Me: All my fault? How exactly? 

Daisy: You, you flustered me. 

Me: I? I flustered you? Now that’s hilarious. When did I fluster you, when I rambled on about the moon while we were stood outside?

Daisy: You don’t remember, do you? 

Me: Remember? I remember that night. You had that cardigan on, and you were very sensibly drinking water. 

Daisy: Yeah. And you definitely weren’t drinking water. Plus don’t get me started on outfits. I had on a silly brown cardigan, one of my favourite shirts and joggers. You had those boots, and glasses that everyone swore were a fashion statement, it took four months for me to realise you actually need those. They just fitted perfectly with your look. And your hair, don’t you remember how long it was back then, all wavy in the wind. God it really was like a movie. 

Me: Oh come on, i’m not buying that. Those glasses were dull and my hair was horrifically tangled that evening. Plus, “dumb brown cardigan”, don’t disparage my favourite cardigan of yours. I know you still have it. You wear it when you read. And it matches your eyes. Plus it has little caramel flowers, like the specs in your eyes. And that random shirt had Tori Spring on it. That’s how I knew we’d be friends. 

Daisy: Yeah I remember. You really don’t remember what happened that night? 

Me: I am literally talking to you about how I remember every detail, what have I missed? And pray tell how it was my fault your adorably weird bag got ruined?

Daisy: I- you are quite something. Okay so firstly, I brought up the moon and you not only indulged my random facts, you then gave your own. Then you trailed your hand down my chest, pointing at Tori and left your hand just resting on me as you chatted about how much you adored Solitaire and loved a book that surprised you with twists. THEN you trailed your hand back up my neck to my chin and pulled my face towards you, and whispered something about how amazing my eye makeup was. And then you downed your beer or whatever was in that horrific cup, grabbed my hand and pulled me into the house. Where we then spent an hour or so dancing, closely. Then your phone rang and suddenly you had to leave. You shoved your newest drink into my hand, kissed my cheek, and ran out the fucking house. And then I didn’t see you again for a month. So yeah, I dropped the stupid beer you shoved in my hands onto my mums bag when you kissed my cheek and then I had to explain that I of course wasn’t drinking, which I wasn’t. And then I had to tell her about you. It’s still stained, the bag. That’s how I remember it anyway. 

Me: I- erm- okay you must be exaggerating parts of that. And I wanted to see you, I had that family crisis, I disappeared to everyone. A freaked the hell out. Wait, is that we barely spoke that year? Our friend groups were overlapping so much but- besides a few moments- we didn’t talk much. Christ when you say it all like that I sound like a dick. I didn’t mean to-

Daisy: Flirt with me? 

Me: I didn’t mean to flirt with anyone back then. I was walking, talking mess. 

Daisy: And yet you charmed everyone. 

Me: Oh please, they put up with at best. But I charmed you?

Daisy: At first. Then you disappeared. Then i was less charmed. But it worked in the end, i’m still here aren’t I? 

Me: Yeah. You are. Look i’m sorry if that hurt you, I didn’t intend to but honestly that does sound kind of shitty of me. Why did you start talking to me, after like a year? Cause I tried starting conversations, I really liked you. But that whole year you couldn’t care less. 

Daisy: Couldn’t care less? I had a massive crush on you and you clearly weren’t in a place to be dealing with that. Hell, you’d barely figured out that you weren’t straight. And your parents were being extra dicks. After a year, I thought it’d be fine to be friends with you without getting a silly crush. 

Me: It took you a year to get over me? But 16 to 17 year old me was such a dickhead. How did you ever like her? 

Daisy: I like all of you. 

Me: That was cheesy. But same. For the record. 

Daisy: You like all of you too? 

Me: I obviously met you. You’re the worst. 

Daisy: Thought I was the best? 

Me: You can be both.

Daisy: Can I now? What an honour. 

We carried on in silence for a bit. I added this bit so you could see what gave me the final courage to ask her. Cause- clearly i’ve always been this much of an idiot. 

Me: *a few minutes later, I don’t remember how long it was tbh, Chappell Roan is STILL playing cause she’s iconic* Can I ask you something? 

Daisy: Sure, I guess.

Me: Wednesday. It was a lot of fun. 

Daisy: It was. That happens to not be a question though. 

Me: I- was it maybe, supposed to be a date? 

Daisy: What? 

Me: Shit i’m sorry, it didn’t- I just- It’s okay if not, I just thought i’d ask. 

Daisy: And, if it, if it was? 

Me: Then i’d say you really should’ve told me outright cause evidentially I can’t take social cues and I would’ve been way more romantic. 

Daisy: You held my hand. 

Me: You’re a touchy person. 

Daisy: You won me something.

Me: It made you smile, I always want you to smile. It wasn’t specific to Wednesday. 

Daisy: I’m sorry, are you saying you do all the lovely things you do to see me smile?

Me: Not to see it, that’s a bonus, just to know, that you’re smiling. To know you’re happy. It makes me happy. 

Daisy: I- shit. You can’t just say stuff like that.

Me: Why not? 

Daisy: You are and will always be the weirdest person i’ve ever met. You send crazy signals you know? 

Me: To be fair I don’t think i’m aware that i’m sending like half of them

Daisy: That much is evident 

Me: I was trying to send one now though. See, now you’re the one who can’t pick up signals 

Daisy: And what signal were you sending me? 

Me: You know you’re making this really difficult right? 

Daisy: Have I not proved that half the time I have no idea what you’re saying or doing? 

Me: Fine. I’ll make it easy. Wednesday was not a date because when we go on a date I want us both to know it’s a date. 

Daisy: But you do… want to go on a date. With me? 

Me: I would love nothing more. 

Daisy: You’re an idiot, you know that.

Me: With all the proof you seem to have that I don’t know what’s going on all the time, you’d think you’d have told me it was a date, you know, so that I knew. 

Daisy: This isn’t even the first time this has happened.

Me: I’m fairly certain this is the first time we’ve had this conversation.

Daisy: Maybe but it’s definitely not the first time i’ve taken you on a not-a-date date before.

Me: Don’t act like I don’t also plan nice shit for you.

Daisy: No you do and that’s worse cause then I have to spend ages trying to see if you realise you just planned us a date.

Me: Well obviously I did not realise. 

Daisy: Obviously 

*Small bit of silence*

Daisy: Just to check, this isn’t just a one time thing right?

Me: What? This conversation or our date that i’m gonna plan, and totally upstage Wednesday by the way, just watch me. 

Daisy: You’re an idiot, I meant the date. I don’t want one date with you and I need you to know that. I know you’ve got a lot going on with your parents and I don’t ever want to seem or feel like some kind of pressure against you so if-

Me: Look, Daisy it’s been made abundantly clear to me by A, all our friends, your mum, a tumblr blog and my professors that I could fuck up us, while trying to deal with my parents. At the end of the day, you’re the person I imagine being by my side for like- forever. And if my parents can’t get that, then they’re the ones who are wrong. 

Daisy: Sorry did you just say, my mum, a tumblr blog and your professor? 

Me: Yeah? 

Daisy: What? 

Me: Well- your mum called me last month with a super cryptic message about her supporting me, and that she’d have my back if I needed a parent and that she “loved us together”. In hindsight  I realise she was trying to hint to me to ask you out. 

Daisy: And the others? You told a blog and one of your professors about me? I thought you used tumblr for your cute Harry Potter obsession.

Me: Oh I do. There’s this blog that answers advice and stuff, I just told them I was in love with you and told them about my parents and stuff and they told me that I need to realise my parents don’t accept me, oh and that I need to ask you out. And technically two of my professors know about you. I told my favourite one, it came up during office hours cause were kinda buddies now and turns out she’s a lesbian, and she’s friends with this other professor and he came in and we all chatted about it for a while. So yeah.

Daisy: Sorry, just back up a second, this blog, you told it- you- you told it you’re in love with me? 

Me: Yeah? 

Daisy: You haven’t told me that yet!? 

Me: Oh- sorry I thought it was obvious. I’m in love with you.

Daisy: I- same I guess. Shit Purple- I am being bombarded with information right now.

Me: Sorry? I can stop. Also, “You guess”? That seems a little offensive. 

Daisy: I love you too. I’m in love with you too. But mine is obvious. I have been obviously in love with you for at least two years.

Me: YOU HAVE? 

Daisy: You didn’t know? 

Me: Clearly I never know. 

Daisy: Yes well i’m starting to realise to what extreme now.

*slight silence*

*laughter*

Me: Holy shit i’m so stupid.

Daisy: We both are. And we thought we were so good at communicating. 

Me: I- I don’t even know what to say. 

*we’re very close to each other now*

Daisy: I don’t have to wait until our first date right? 

Me: Wait? For what? 

Daisy: *rolls her eyes* for you to kiss me idiot.

Me: Oh. No. Unless you want to and then-

Daisy: Shut up.

*We kissssssssss!!!!! Guess what? Heartstopper level fireworks ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ Called it*

Daisy: Better plan that date fast.

Me: I wish i’d pulled my head out of my ass faster, I can’t take you on a good date right around exams

Daisy: Well then maybe i’ll just have to keep best date title until after uni exams, then you can upstage me.

Me: It’s a draw at best, if we count Wednesday then we have to count when I jumped through hoops to get you those concert tickets, and then went with you and was super enthusiastic at your dance party.

Daisy: You loved that concert. And if you didn’t intend it to be a date, I don’t think it counts. 

Me: I’m pretty sure we’re gonna be in weird water if we try and figure out whether all the shit we’ve done over the years has been dates or not. So, even? 

Daisy: I’m totally winning

Me: I hate you.

Daisy: No you don’t. 

Me: You’re right. I don’t. I love you. So much.

Daisy: Oh my god.

Me: You’re blushing.

Daisy: Shut up! 

Me: I can’t believe I waited so long to tell you. I can’t believe you love me back.

Daisy: Of course I do. 

There was a lot of smiling and giggling and she teased me for singing Chappell Roan at her and I had to tell about your blog and my whole talk with my professors (I don’t remember if I told you about that).

But I have a girlfriend now. AHHHHHHHHHHH (happy excitement btw). 

Ugh this is so great. She’s been watching me write this over my shoulder and been correcting the parts of our conversation I got wrong. She also says i’m cheesy for giving her such a cute nickname and giving A a really basic one.

Also apparently A knows Daisy loves me? She told you, didn’t she? That stupid ask she sent. Damn her.

Anyways, the love of my life is my girlfriend nowwwwwwww!!!!!!!!

I haven’t decided what to do about my parents fully yet. Me and Daisy agreed to keep this between us (and A, and her mum, and you and my professors) during exams and then over the summer we’re gonna tell our friends and i’m gonna tell my parents and deal from there. So we’ll see.

I seriously cannot thank you enough Cas ❤️ (Daisy says your blog is adorable by the way). 

AHHHHHHHH

I need you to know that I went feral when I read this. I told my wife the whole story and she told me I need to get out more, but I'm just so excited for you <3

Also A did tell me Daisy loves you, yeah. I couldn't just tell! You guys had to figure it out on your own, or you'd never be able to communicate!

Sending you guys all the love and keep me updated!

#ask #asks #ask cas #purple anon

[the-apocrypha]

DVD Bonus Features: Fanfic Edition!

I have like 6k of cut scenes from my last fic (the fourth dimension) and many of them were not cut because they were bad, but because they weren't working with the overall story. Seems a shame to let them languish on Google docs. So, for anyone who might be interested - here's two scenes that didn't make the final cut!

<<<>>>

The hourglass is broken. 

The glass is intact, of course, as is the intricate brass housing Dream had spent so many hours bending and curving into symmetrical spirals. It is the spring plate that forms one of the bases—designed to depress slowly as the weight of sand gathers, thereby stretching a miniature steel coil beneath such that it begins to draw back a tiny gilt hammer. When the full weight of sand is upon it, the catch releases, and the hammer strikes the chime. 

Dream had left the mechanism skeletonized, proud of both the ingenuity and the beauty of the gears he had crafted. This is what allows him to see, today, that even though the sand piles upon the spring plate, the hammer remains stationary. The plate is not depressing.

He has migrated to the window for better light and turned the hourglass every which way. The symmetry of the hourglass means that an identical mechanism exists on the other side, for convenient comparison, and it is from this that Dream is hypothesizing that the issue is perhaps with the pinion gear. 

He will not know for certain until he attempts correction. 

And herein lies the problem, for in a masterful stroke of arrogance on his own part: 

The glass is intact. 

His only options now to access the mechanism are to melt the glass, or strategically break it apart, and in either case hope for both minimal damage to the contents and an aesthetically pleasing repair following the—

“What’s wrong, dove?” 

Or rather, what Hob actually says is hǒu is th' problem, culver?, because Dream is standing in the kitchen next to an abandoned bowl of muesli, because it is breakfast, because during breakfast they speak Middle English. Hob is before him, coffee in one hand, breakfast sandwich in the other. 

“It’s broken,” Dream replies. Is brokæ.

“It’s nearly eight,” Hob replies, eyebrows up. 

Dream abruptly sets the hourglass down. 

“So you noticed the Astrid Alarm was broken,” Hob says, as Dream swings the freezer door open and starts shifting ice packs and frozen pizzas about. “And then you didn’t set a different alarm. You didn’t eat your breakfast. You didn’t pack your bag.” 

“This is unhelpful.”

Hob goes quiet as Dream frantically stuffs notebooks into his backpack, then a water bottle (too light, probably empty), the peas, headphones, and a sweater from the back of a chair that is likely not his own. Three binder clips go into his pocket. All he needs is—

He turns to find Hob waiting, Dream’s wallet in one hand, sandwich in the other, meat now removed. 

Dream accepts both, and heads for the windowsill. 

“No kiss?” Hob complains.

The broken hourglass, too, goes into his bag. 

Dream doubles back, cups the side of Hob’s face more for the sake of injury prevention than tenderness, and presses a quick kiss of gratitude where it belongs. 

The hand on his wrist stays him. 

Hob’s fingers fall comfortably between the three watch bands that lie there, his thumb over Dream’s pulse point. 

“Tonight, five o’clock,” Hob reminds him. 

Dream holds up his other arm in reply, where a fourth watch glints golden. 

“Ah, perfect,” Hob says, beaming. “Hob Fob to the rescue.” 

It is one of the many great failures of Dream’s life, that this nickname has persisted. 

“Five,” Dream agrees, and pulls his hand free. “You will be wonderful.” 

“Best in my age group,” Hob agrees proudly, and raises his coffee mug just as Dream turns around to make for the door. The mug is a custom job from the internet a few years ago, chipped in both paint and porcelain, but the original black with white lettering can still be read: 

It does not belong to Hob. 

WORLD’S 

LEAST 

PUNCTUAL 

WATCHMAKER 

<<<>>>

(Originally there was an OC named Astrid that Dream would birdwatch with every morning, and Hob had a piano recital in the evening. Obviously these plot points went, and so the breakfast scene had to be rewritten.)

<<<>>>

A watch does not know the time it tells. 

It cannot feel the sun moving across the sky. It does not know the axis of the Earth, nor the ellipsis of its orbit. It does not reach into the fabric of the universe and pluck divine truth from the red-shift coefficient of the galaxies that hurtle through space as afterthought projectiles of the origin of existence. 

A watch begins with a mainspring—or perhaps a quartz crystal, or microscopic solar panels—but traditionally, a mainspring. This is where the potential energy is stored, to be released as the kinetic energy that will drive the gears to turn the escapement, which is what moves the hands of the watch forward, and would do so without rhythm or reason were it not for the staying hands of the balance wheel. 

The balance wheel is the best part of a watch. The most precise. The most expensive, for the precious gems encrusted upon it that almost entirely eliminate the enemy of constancy: friction. It is what decides the length of a second, for it is what checks the urgency of the marching army of gears that say go go go go go and instead says no. It says, stop. For one thousand milliseconds or one million microseconds or one trillion picoseconds, it holds the entire watch in perfect stillness. 

Then the second hand ticks over. The next interval begins. 

On, and on, and on, and on, it goes. 

<<<>>>

A watch does not know the time it tells. It is a mindless contraption, a work of metal and stone and glass, and it grinds inexorably forward with a steady tick, tick, tick, tick, tick that may at first listen sound like the drumbeats of progress. But listen closer. Listen carefully. 

It is not a ticking that you hear. It is one small gear, striking back against the machine, protesting, crying out again and again: wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

(I liked this little meditation on the nature of watches, but it's a few shades off from my central thesis, and in the end was not needed.)

And that's it! Alas, sometimes good pieces must be sacrificed in the name of a greater project.

#dreamling #my writing #sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #idk if anyone will even care about this #but if you enjoyed it #you're welcome

[oxpogues4lifexo]

Full Kook - Part 2

A Protective/Sweet/Obsessive/Possessive!Rafe&JJ Fanfic

-'The Morning After' -

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, Alcohol, Language, SA, Abuse, Sex, Bad writing!! Word count: 1.9K Summary of Part 1: Small teaser of what life with Thomas Brooks is like. Including the advantages and disadvantages of living with the 3 most troubled boys on Kildare Island.

Previous part

Bella’s Pov:

"Good morning!!!" I call, skipping into the living room after getting freshly washed and ready for the day.

JJ and Rafe both lay asleep on the couch and without me interfering I know full well they will never wake up.

Just the sound of my voice alone causes both boys to sit up, turning to me on high alert as if I was being murdered. I giggle at the sight, knowing both of them would go miles to protect me, causing a slight blush to colour my cheeks.

"Morning, sleepyheads!" I repeat, dragging my fingers through their hair, watching as their drowsy eyes follow my own with a sleepy smile spread across both their faces.

"G'morning gorgeous.." JJ reaches back to take my waist in his hand, squeezing softly as a yawn escapes his mouth.

He lifts himself off the couch, placing a kiss ontop my head; leaving me with Rafe as he excuses himself to the bathroom.

Rafe leans over to the table, helping himself to the last of his drag as he turns his body towards me; a smile taking his lips. "Sleep good, princess?" His fingers glaze mine that sat on the back of the couch beside him; a smile pulling at my cheeks as I struggle to keep eye contact.

The way they both speak to me sends me into a spiral, but admitting it would be like telling them the whole island wants them; they’re both true but saying it out loud would confirm them and I’m not gonna let myself deal with the outcome.

Rafe notices my blushed cheeks, causing a smirk to appear along his face, well aware of the effect he has on me. I nod, face brightening before the moment gets cut short by a slam of a door.

Me and Rafe never get time to be alone; I'm always with JJ or my dad, and Rafe and I aren't the most accepted friends by the island so hanging out alone seems almost a rarity. So those little moments when we do get a bit of silence together is quite peaceful and very cherished by the both of us. The need of more takes over sometimes; alone time with Rafe is the only time I can really let my hair down and relax, surprisingly, so who can blame me for wanting more from time to time?

Me and Rafe both look up past the living room as JJ comes back out, staring at his hand. "J? You okay?" I walk over, watching as his eyes darken, only growing my concern. Rafe's expression falls and his attention turns back to his joint, wishing to be able to talk to me even that little bit more, not caring at all for the unnecessary drama JJ is probably going to make over the smallest thing (yet again), most likely a tiny paper cut or something.. and me babying him like it’s the end of the world because my maternal instincts kick in whenever either of them have even the littlest issue.

"JJ, what's going on?" My eyebrows dip as I tilt my head to catch his expression. He lifts his own slowly as he gives me his fist. I watch his eyes as I raise my hands to open his palm. Catching a glimpse of a smirk on his face, my eyes widen knowing exactly where this is going.

He reaches down, quickly chucking me over his shoulder as he runs round to the couch; throwing me down beside Rafe, before pegging it towards my room. He only made it as far as the kitchen before I reached him, pulling myself onto his back and hooking my legs around his waist, securing myself onto him.

He laughs, grabbing my thighs to adjust me into a more comfortable position before accepting it and deciding to make some toast.

I giggle in his ear, watching the pure enjoyment take over his face as he mindlessly helps himself in my kitchen.

I turn back as best I could to see Rafe sat on the couch still, legs spread, scrolling on his phone. I frown, about to open my mouth before-

"Sunshine, 'm ho- get off him!!"

We all adjust ourselves: me dropping off of JJ's back, JJ hiding the knife and toast behind him as he turns around to conform to whatever words come out of my Dad's mouth next, and Rafe sitting up, grabbing the ash tray and sliding it beneath the couch, unaware that there was absolutely no backing to it.

Me and JJ glare at each other before watching the now obvious joint sat at my dad's feet.

"Sh.. shit.." Rafe looks up at me expecting some sort of reaction or snarky comment but by the pure fear in my eyes he knew it was worse than a little joke.

I follow dad’s body as he leans down, picking up the tray, and guiding it to his face to take a sniff. Without hesitation, he storms over, the anger in his eyes seeping into my blood. I could feel a lump gathering in the back of my throat.

JJ’s hand found mine, squeezing tightly as he pulls me into his side safely and slowly enough that my dad wouldn’t pick up on it.

“What the hell is this?!” Dad shoves the weed-filled cigarette into my face, causing a flood of coughs to escape my mouth. “Hm?” He jerks his head to the side, pulling my attention back to him as I clear my throat once more.

My mouth falls open but no words manage to leave; my eyes glass over and JJ’s grip on my hand tightens letting me know how painfully obvious I was being.

“Going to explain, or are ya' just gonna stand there like a little lost sheep?” His voice was low, gravelly, like he’d just rolled out of bed. But I knew it wasn’t the truth. It cut straight through the tension building in the air like a knife, making JJ take a breath and straighten himself up. Acting from experience..

“Sir.” He coughs, grabbing my dad’s focus. “She had no part in it, sir. It’s mine, promise.” Rafe let's a light tug at his lips at the thought of JJ taking the full blame, when they both know JJ would get the worst of it anyways.

We watch as his face falls, eyebrows dipping so low his eyes were unnoticeable. “Bella.” He speaks but his eyes don’t leave JJ’s. “Tell me. I won’t ask again. What. Is. This?” His sentences were short and blunt. The obvious impatient tone in his voice making my blood run cold. The sheer nothingness behind his eyes, I was used to by now, but still struck a point of fear in me nothing else could.

I don’t get scared of much. I grew up watching R-rated movies, went ghost hunting with JJ and Rafe in abandoned buildings from the age of like 10, had JJ’s horror games on in the background of my room at 3 am every night because he couldn’t sleep. Yet something about my dad always got to me. It wasn’t even the fact he was a threat, it was just that look on his face, constantly, that always seemed to hit a nerve.

“Dad..” I manage to let out before swallowing the courage to stand up to him this early in the morning. I step closer, wrapping my arms lightly around his beer belly and resting my head against his chest. I forced my eyebrows from scrunching as I held myself together, “I’m sorry.. I promise, I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even know it was there.. Just, please let it be, we had a good day yesterday..” The slight crack in my softened tone caused my dad’s arm to take my body into his own.

He places a kiss to my head, “Thank you.. 'm glad to hear you three are still gettin' along.”

I lift my head, tilting it slightly at his words, “We’ve always been okay?”

A calming smile takes his lips, steadying my nerves as I watch his face brighten from the sight of me, “Y'know, I’ll always worry 'bout my li'l girl.. Just makin' sure is all, Sunshine.” He kisses me again, this time on the bridge of my nose, before looking back at Rafe, his grip firmly settled on my hip. “You’re lucky I don’t speak to your father 'bout this. 'nd you?” His head shoots to JJ and I see him flinch, almost, at the motion; the feeling of guilt eating into me wondering why I threw the blame onto him in the first place. “I told ya' to keep that away from 'er. I know that you’re old enough to make your own decisions but if you’re living under my roof, you go by my rules. Understand?”

I grip onto the bit of fabric that sat under my hand, lightly tugging to let my dad know he’s being too rough. Usually the action would cause an outburst but with Rafe and JJ around he’s naturally much calmer anyways. I wish I was joking..

JJ nods almost instantly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped down his fear.

My dad’s like a lion, any sign of fear and he attacks.

That was a joke by the way..

Dad chuckles, a laugh that caused a shiver down anyone's spine. He pulls JJ into him, squeezing him hard as he pats his palm to his back. “Love you, kid..”

I didn’t hear what he said to him, but the smile that appeared across JJ’s cheeks melted my heart. Only dad can make him smile like that, and it genuinely heals that little part of me that ever thought he was a bad person. Seeing JJ smile is my world, and I’d watch it over and over if I could.

Dad pats his back once more before standing back up, “Right toilet, then work! Ready, Sunshine?”

I smile, giving him a nod, “Of course!” I exclaim, lightly running my fingers over my skirt.

He heads off to the bathroom and I hurry JJ and Rafe out whilst he’s still in a good mood.

“Will you be at the club today?” I rest a hand on Rafe’s chest as his arm lays against the small of my back, a soft smile pulling at his cheeks.

“Obviously, princess.. See you there. You’ll be alright?” He motions his head over to the bathroom door and I let out a small laugh.

“Rafe Cameron.. Worried about me..? Bella Brooks? He could never..” I giggle my words out softly, watching his expression harden before a smirk pulls through. A breath escaping the gap of his lips as he pulls my head into his neck, his arms engulfing me in his scent.

“GOD!! You two done? Gotta go before her dad decides we’re dead meat bro.” He smacks Rafe’s back, taking me from his arms and into his own.

Rafe lets out a deep sigh as he watches discontently. My head laying on JJ’s chest the same way it was on his, wondering what could be going through JJ’s head, only imagining the worst.

“See you tonight, alright..? Be careful, and call if you need anything.” He rests his forehead on mine, his lips landing a kiss on the tip of my nose as I return one back.

“Will do. Dad..” I smirk, watching his face drop and his hands shove me away.

“Fuck you too, asshole.” He drags Rafe out the door before we got a chance to say goodbye and I giggle at the thought of our previous interaction.

Once dad was ready we headed off to the Island Club for work; talking shit about anything and anyone we were just about to face 5 minutes from now.

Didn’t realise how little happened in such a chunk of words until I read through it lol. Long awaited second part which isn’t finished but thought it’d been too long since the first part so just split it instead 😭

Enjoy ❤️🌹 xx

Masterlist

#jj maybank #rafe cameron #jj obx #rafe obx #jj outer banks #rafe outer banks #obx #outer banks #drew starkey #rudy pankow #jj imagine #rafe imagine #rafe cameron imagine #jj maybank imagine #oc #rafe x oc #jj x oc #outerbanks #outer banks fanfiction #outerbanks jj #outerbanks rafe #outerbanks fic #outerbanks imagine #rafe fanfiction #jj fanfiction #rafe fic #jj fic #obx rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #obx fic

[lindsaymendzs]

having to use your parents' kitchen has to be one of the circles of hell

#i need to move so bad #like the fact that i have to use it as if i'm a guest but my parents make an absolute unusable gross mess of it / #occupy the countertops table top fridge space sink shelf space and i just have to find places to fit my things #like there will be rotten fruit and dirty dishes and hellofresh packages and garbage making the sink and countertops completely inaccessibl #but when i can't clean the pan i used to make dinner because of that....somehow i'm the disrespectful and messy one #also they eat my food and drink my booze and don't tell me or replace it #i need my own kitchen so bad. i need my own kitchen so bad #faithposting #also when i store the cat food in the kitchen....somehow i'm making a mess by keeping “stuff” (food) in the kitchen (food room) #and the half a can of wet food that i cover up and leave on a shelf between meals is somehow the reason we have fruit flies #and not the literal bowls of rotting fruit and unfinished glasses of wine that they leave on the counter for as long as weeks at a time #GOD if i'm going to be living in a mess i at least wish it was MY mess #so if anyone is looking for a roommate <3 #<- only half a joke

[orcelito]

I think I cried harder today over my dad's jackets than I did at his deathbed. That was a miserable time of course, a memory that will likely be seared into my brain until I die, but I cried... I think a normal amount, all things considered. More than I ever usually do of course, but I typically don't cry At All. All this free crying is certainly surreal.

The jackets, though. I was put in charge of doing his laundry, because we don't want to pack up dirty clothes. I was expecting it to be unpleasant bc my dad's dirty clothes - gross. But really, it was much more unpleasant in that... those were his. It felt wrong to touch them. Felt wrong to treat his jackets as gross. Because they were just his jackets. They weren't even in the hamper. And then I was remembering him wearing them, and then I was crying. Again. And again. Weeping over these damn jackets.

Then I found a shirt on his bed that still smelled like him. It smelled like a Hug From Dad. And that set me off crying even harder.

In total, I think I cried like 6 times within 40 minutes. It took me that long to finish sorting the damn clothes bc I just. Was a wreck. Like, what are you supposed to do when you're living life like normal, vaguely hopeful bc you're taking steps to secure your own happiness, and then 4 days later you're sorting your dad's laundry because he fucking died. Suddenly. Without a goodbye.

And you have to worry about his lack of a will (even under an ideal situation, only 2 heirs and no conflicts between us, probate's a fucking Bitch), and arranging the funeral, and prepping his obituary, and picking out pictures, and writing a speech bc you want to talk at his funeral, of Course you want to talk at his funeral, but even just thinking about anecdotes you could share has you crying yet again.

I've cried more times in the past 3 days than likely the entirety of last YEAR. And that's WITH my cat, and uncle, and family friend dying. Those all hurt, my uncle most of all, & I was real fucked up over it. But this? This was my Dad. Likely the person I'd have named 2nd closest to me in my life, second only to my sister. He wasn't perfect, but he did so much for me throughout my entire life. All he wanted was to raise us to be happy and independent. And he accomplished it, we're getting by without him, but we still wanted several more decades with him. He was only 57. We should've gotten several more decades with him.

But here we are now. Playing investigators to his life, digging into all his shit, trying to find documents and take inventory of all his things, and learning Many things about him in the process. In his lockbox of sensitive documents, like his SSN and birth certificate and all that stuff, we found an old letter. About a decade old now, written in my hand. Right at the very top, we found that he'd kept the letter I wrote to him telling him frankly about my struggles and the things I wanted him to do better. He kept it. He tried to take it to heart. He looked at it again, sometime more recently than all the rest of the documents. That was on top.

His love for us is evident everywhere. The pictures he has hanging up all over the place, majority of them with us in them. The old fathers day cards placed on display in his bedroom bookshelf. The gifts we gave him, even stupid little knick knacks, placed around his apartment with pride. I wish we'd taken more videos of him. I don't want to forget the sound of his voice. I don't want to forget his smell either, the smell of a Hug From Dad, but I still tossed that shirt into the wash even though it felt like saying yet another goodbye.

It's the suddenness that hurts the most, I think. We were planning on having him help me finally get my license this year. My final words to him, the last thing he would've seen from me, were messages asking up on whether he'd called his car insurance company to make sure there wouldn't be problems. I should've called him more. I don't know if I'm going to learn from this.

I cut my 2 weeks off early to have time to grieve and to work on things for the funeral and settling the estate. The last thing I'd wanna do right now is selling fucking bubble tea in a job I already decided to leave. So here I am without a job, though with potentially two life insurance policy payouts to come. Inheriting half his 401k. Inheriting couches, knickknacks, keepsakes, paintings, art pieces, maybe even his guitar and other furniture if we can figure out what to do about space (I don't have room for this furniture, I don't know if I even have room for the couches, but God do I want to keep so much of this furniture). It has me even considering keeping one of his guns, just one. A tiny little revolver, it sits so comfortably in my hand. I don't even want to use it for anything. I just want to have it, keep it stored in a drawer with its ammo kept separate. I don't like guns, but this is a part of him. He loved collecting guns. He was about as responsible with them as someone can be, keeping them locked in a lockbox and impressing upon his children the importance of gun safety (I've known the basic gun safety rules ever since I was a little kid. Of course, of course, of course.) It reminds me of him. It's horrifically easy to have a gun in Indiana. I apparently don't even need a permit to carry anymore. (I have no intention to ever carry this in public.)

It's all a cycle. Business, grief, thoughts about my future. Round and round, like the most nauseating carousel in existence. I don't know how I'm still so functional. My skills with compartmentalization have been my lifesaver.

And im just thinking about the story my dad's best friend shared today. About a friend of theirs who lost her father. She reached out after hearing about my dad to share his words with her: "it's okay to grieve, but don't make his death your life".

He explicitly referenced himself in this, saying if he were to die suddenly that he wouldn't want us to define ourselves by it. Grief is expected, but he wants us to be able to move on. He's always wanted us to establish ourselves and make ourselves happy. He wouldn't want to be a weight holding us back from that.

So every time I start to feel guilty for thinking about having nicer furniture or using his life insurance payout to fund the rest of my college, I remind myself of that. Thinking about the material isn't a bad thing. I'm only human. And in the end, he'd Want me to be thinking about it. He never intended to die, certainly not without warning like this, so he would've only encouraged me being pragmatic about it all.

He only ever wanted us to be happy. So I need to do what I can to live up to that.

I love him. I miss him already.

#speculation nation #negative/ #this got really long on accident. but i think typing this out was really helpful for me. #getting the thoughts out. processing. the works. #nearly cried several times just from writing this. #...and honestly i might reference this again when i start seriously writing my eulogy. #things suck a Lot right now. and i really wish they were different. #feels like i picked a bad choice in a video game and am now seeing the Bad Ending or whatever #all i need to do is reload a previous save. it's all still there. perfectly preserved in my memories. #but... that's all gone. as suddenly and unfair as it is ive been thrust into a new chapter of my life so thoroughly. #it's not all bad though. he wasnt prepared for dying so it's been hell to prepare for him #we dont know if we'll even be able to get into his fucking iphone. stupid piece of shit. #but he had life insurance. he had a union job. and That comes with benefits #(something about a year's salary going to the family. aka half a year's salary to Me. and isnt That mind boggling.) #as much as it hurts im going to be realistic about it. im going to do what i need to finish my education. #and im going to use it as a springboard for finally becoming a 'proper adult'. #the kind who could own a nice kitchen fridge. one with an ice machine on the front of the door #and freezers in the drawers. #maybe then i could think about getting motorcyle lessons. not from my dad as i originally wanted #but i wanna keep the family biker spirit alive. i wanted it even before he died. and now i want it even more. #ive had so so many thoughts. it's only been 3 days. ive had to emotionally numb myself several times just to Get Through It. #everything is exacerbated. my mom wants to go to the funeral. we will have to fight her on this. my dad Hated her. #and i certainly dont fucking want her around either. not then. not when im talking about my dad. #(my dad. my Dad. i saw him die. i felt him cold. i do not regret it. it still hurts me.) #it's overwhelming. i loved him so fucking much. even with his flaws he was truly an amazing father. #i'll... shut up now. if you read this far. well. hug your loved ones a little tighter. you never know when youll lose them.