#i spent 40 minutes adjusting his head | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ughgoaway · 2 months

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Snapshots

a/n; This is kind of half a blurb and half a fic?? Idk, it's just horny thoughts expanded tbh. now, this is NOT sanitary at all. PLEASE do not do this without thoroughly cleaning the shoe first. You are asking for a yeast infection and a UTI otherwise. But this is fiction, so let's all pretend he did a little sterilising beforehand! however, that's not hot to read, so im not gonna write it, but let's play pretend!! Thank you, ily <3

Content warnings; boot grinding, d-word, degradation, jealousy, bratty behaviour, dom matty, spit, swearing, and teasing. But I think thats it?? I'm so sorry if I'm missing some!

word count; 2.1k ish

(shout out to Kirke @nowshesdoingitallthetime for once again causing this. you are my fav little devil on my shoulder encouraging this behaviour...)

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*click* *click* *click*

“Okay and now look to the left!” You hear the photographer shout. matty turns his head exactly as she asks. But apparently, it's not quite right, judging by how she walks over to him and poses his body.

you can feel the jealousy in every fucking nerve when her fingers graze the edge of Matty's jaw, adjusting his head half a centimetre. The move was so small it was completely unnoticeable to anyone else, but what was noticeable was the sly smirk on the photographer's face as her fingers lingered on Matty’s skin.

Your boyfriend remains completely oblivious, as he has been all day. You, however, noticed it as soon as you walked in together. You weren't planning on coming to play jealous girlfriend, you were prepared to be silently supportive.

But when she spent 40 minutes trying different outfits on Matty and showering him with compliments, you knew something was up.

You studied her every move from then on. The way she “adjusted” Matty’s hair after almost every take, running her fingers through every strand in a way that had Matty practically purring.

You look at the way she pulls at his clothes, untucking and tucking in his shirt multiple times. and you also watch her eyes dart down to his exposed stomach every. fucking. Time. You swear you can almost see the cogs turning in her head when she catches a flash of the rose tattoo on his hip.

Every joke he makes, she laughs just a little too hard. Matty is funny, but making a shitty pun is not worthy of doubling over and acting like you're at a standup show. Yet, every vaguely funny comment he makes has her cackling and wiping tears that are streaming down her cheeks.

So you were fuming. Partially at her, Matty had introduced you as his girlfriend at the start of the session. Which had earned him an unimpressed hum from her and you a petty wave. she didn't seem to take too much notice of that fact, though, judging by the way she's stroking his cheek right now.

But you're also pissed at Matty for playing right into her hand.

You knew he was egotistical, but the way he was practically turned into a giggling schoolgirl over the shoot drove you insane. His attention whore actions usually make you laugh, probably because they're normally aimed at you. as soon as you start rambling about how much you love him, matty becomes a child star, immediately glowing at the praise.

But it's remarkably less entertaining when he's lapping up the attention of a woman who is practically getting on her knees in front of you.

And maybe you took it too far, walking over to him mid-conversation and grabbing his face, pressing your lips onto his harshly, you take advantage of the gasp that leaves his lips to press your tongue into his mouth, licking inside and moaning excessively loud.

Matty pulls you off once his logical brain overtakes his horny one, but you can still see he's slightly dazed when he goes back to chatting with the photographer. The haze in his eyes and the pink flush on his cheeks take a few minutes to fully fade, especially when your hand slides onto his thigh and grips his skin possessively.

You hang off his arm for the rest of the break and move closer to the set when they start up again. Every adjustment she suggests you swoop in and make before she can, punctuating each one with a peck on Matty’s lips and a glare her way.

Matty knows what you're doing, and after you lingered a little too long on one kiss, he pulls you in with a hand around the base of your neck.

You feel his breath on your ear before he starts talking, “I know what you're doing. Behave.”

You don't listen to his demands. Why should you when he's been gagging for every piece of attention this stranger gives him? So you play it up even more, determined to beat this woman at her game.

whilst you might win that war, you certainly don't win the one waging with matty judging by his tense shoulders and rolling eyes.

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The ride home is full of tension, Matty's knuckles are white from how hard he's gripping the steering wheel, and the hand that usually lives on your thighs is firmly stuck on the gearstick.

You cant deny that the mix of his palpable anger now and how fucking good he looked at the photo shoot had riled you up. Every tick of his jaw makes your thighs tighten. And you swear you see a smile cross Matty's face as you cross and uncross your legs for the 20th time, desperate to relieve some pressure.

As soon as you get in the door, Matty is barking orders at you.

“Follow me. And be quiet. You've done enough talking today.” Any bratty behaviour left simmering inside you was gone. You trailed behind Matty silently, walking into the front room and starting to sit down on the sofa beside him.

“Nope, floor,” Matty says bluntly.

... no, he's joking. Surely.

“What?” you tilt your head at the man in front of you as you speak, assuming this is another one of his unfunny jokes (but you're sure the photographer would be fucking cackling at it.)

“You heard me, Don't play dumb now, baby. Kneel.” You don’t know whether it’s the intensity of his eyes or the assertiveness of his voice, but you do exactly as he asks. Sinking to your knees like you had done for him so many times before.

Your hands start to move to his fly instinctively, assuming you'd be apologising the only way you know how, letting Matty fuck your throat until you cant speak. But his hands smack yours away before you can even touch the denim of his jeans.

“Thats not gonna cut it today, baby. i need a proper apology this time.” Matty's foot slides between your legs, his boot sitting between your thighs as you hover just above it.

“I want you to grind on my boot, sweet girl. Put on a proper show for me, yeah?” Matty nods at you, and you don't even think before immediately nodding back, sinking down on his boot below you. in your mind, you know you should be scoffing at him and rolling your eyes, but your body moves without you telling it to.

You can already feel wetness pooling in your panties, throbbing at the idea of being so powerless under him. You gasp as soon as the cool leather of the boot touches your core, goosebumps blooming over your skin.

Your hips start rutting against the leather, sliding your hands around Matty's calf as you experimentally grind down on his shoe. Matty feels your fingers tighten around his leg as you clit brushes agaisnt the leather, the slight scratch of the boot making your head spin.

You rock your hips dumbly against Matty's shoe, arching your back when it brushes harshly over your bundle of nerves. Your ruby red nails dig into Matty’s leg through his jeans as you cling to him desperately.

One of your hands slides behind you so you can rock your hips even deeper on his boot, laying your palm flat the ground and canting your hips up desperately. Your thighs burn with every rock you make, but the burn in your core is stronger than anything else.

“thats it. now stick your tongue out, fuck. that's it angel,” Matty palms himself over his jeans as he stares down at you, groaning as he watches spit drip from your tongue and fall on the boot below, making every move you make slicker and more dizzying.

Matty looks pretty fucked out for someone who hasn't been touched, a thin sheen of sweat sits on his skin, his dick straining in his jeans as he watches you like a hawk. He studies your every movement like he is watching a cinematic masterpiece, taking in every move you make and committing it to memory.

His jaw clenches as he fights every urge in his body to grab you by the hair and pull under him. Visions cross his mind of him jackhammering his hips inside you until you're screaming his name, watching the bluge in your stomach as he pumps fucking every inch of himself inside you. But he stays strong, keeping his eyes trained on you with every move you make.

“Thats it, shine my boots with your cunt. Good girl” Your eyes roll into the back of your head as Matty drags out his words and pushes his boot up, the pressure against your clit making the world around you fall into a haze.

A flush covers your cheeks and chest, and Matty smirks at how blissed out you look.

Fucking you dumb is something that will never fail to amaze him, watching a smart girl become a babbling mess because of him does wonders for his ever-growing ego. It's not like he needed the boost, but your brain melted out of your ears as soon as he starts talking to you like he owned you.

You can't help but squirm as you start moving closer towards the edge, the pressure building inside you slowly becoming too much. Whimpers and whines fall from your lips as your hips speed up, pleading with Matty to let you cum without saying it. Luckily, Matty has seen you fall apart under him enough times to know exactly what you're asking.

“You getting close, baby?” Matty smirks as he speaks, “‘course you are. Filthy girl wants to cum all over daddy's boots.” your jaw drops at the nickname, and you nod as best you can, whimpering with every circle of your hips.

“Beg." he demands

"Tell me you're fucking sorry and beg to cum,” Matty's jaw drops when he sees tears start falling down your face, desperation filling your every nerve. Soon, you're sobbing and begging Matty for mercy, your hips bucking wildly.

“Please. I’m so- fuck- im so sorry, Daddy. Please let me cum, ill be so good, I promise. Just- ah! let me cum. Please.” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you fight to hold in your orgasm, but every rut of your hips is making pushing you closer.

“So good for me, such a dirty slut. Okay, angel, cum for me.” As soon as the words leave Matty’s lips, your cumming, the rubber band inside you snapping.

White spots dance across your vision as you push even harder down on Matty’s boot, letting the tough leather push you through your orgasm with every circle of your hips. Your chest heaves, and your jaw shakes as your orgasm drags on, intense pleasure wracking your every nerve.

Your thighs grip tightly around his boot as you reach your peak, but soon enough they're going lax, your hips slowing down until you’re motionless sitting on Matty's shoe, panting wildly and fighting to catch your breath. His fingers move from his lap and grip your chin, forcing you to stare at him as he speaks.

“Don't leave a mess. clean it up for me baby, be a good girl.” Matty nods at his boot, looking at you expectantly with a sick smile covering his face.

You sink further down on the floor below you, ignoring the way the cold concrete scratches your knees as you slide. Dark brown eyes meet yours as you hold eye contact with Matty. staring up at his as you stick your tongue out, and start to lick the leather covered in your slick. An exaggerated moan falls from your lips at the taste, and Matty’s jaw drops as he watches your tongue lap at his shoe.

After a few more seconds of you swiping your tongue over the leather, Matty is dragging you into his lap, gripping your hips harshly as you settle on top of him. He can't help smirking as you hover over him. Your cheeks are pink as you stare at him. The same pretty pink covers your lips. undoubtedly from desperately bitting at them to try and dampen your needy whimpers.

“Don't be so selfish now, princess, give daddy a taste,” you smirk at Matty before gripping his jaw, watching in awe as his mouth drops open and his tongue falls out.

Power skitters up your spine as you lean forward and let a drop of spit fall from your bottom lip, watching it drip and fall onto your boyfriend's tongue. A grin immediately pulls at your lips when you hear the groan that is ripped from his chest.

As soon as Matty tastes the mix of your slick and spit, he's dragging you deeper into his lap, forcing his tongue in your mouth to desperately lick every trace of your release from the inside of your mouth.

Needy hands grip each other's skin, groping every piece you can get your hands on. Eventually, Matty pulls away from your lips, his eyes dropping to watch a string of spit spread between you. His head falls back against the sofa behind him, staring at you in awe.

“I'm booking another photo shoot with her,” he teases, his chest heaving as he desperately sucks in air to his lungs.

“The fuck you are.” You surge forward and capture his lips again, smiling as you feel his lips turn up as soon as your skin touches his.

#wrote this from 12am to 2am so it might be shit #probably is #but delirium is a funny thing #anyway... yeah ignore the logistics of this and just have fun lol <3 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #matty healy fic

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mncxbe · 11 months

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Just an Ango thingy I decided to write because I miss Paris !! season 2 spoilers

5:40♧

𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒐 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: slight angst/ happy ending

The rattle of the rails reverberated through the entire tunnel, announcing the arrival of the midnight subway. It was a chilly autumn night and you were heading home from work. Just like every night, you were going to take line 14 from Châtelet to Saint-Lazare, then switch to line 13 to get to Saint-Denis, a total of 12 stops. This half hour trip to your crappy apartment was usually spent listening to music or reading the awfully long book you started the day you arrived in Paris two months ago; but not today.

As soon as the automatic doors of the subway closed behind you, your eyes landed on the poster glued to the tube's metal wall. It was a picture of the Ookagawa river in Yokohama, its banks lined with blossomed cherry trees. A sudden wave of nostalgia took over you and the memories came flooding in, echoes of the life you left behind.

You usually avoided thinking about your hometown and the people there; the memories were so fresh, the pain so vivid.

Only four months prior you were sitting on one of the high, rotating chairs at Lupin, celebrating Dazai's birthday with Oda and Ango, the people you considered your closest friends; your family. The drinks came one after another and except for Ango, who had his usual tomato juice, you were all tipsy.

"Ey Dazai. You've got enough to cover the bill, right?" you half laughed as you heard Dazai whine.

"But it's my birthday. Why should I be the one to pay?"

"Don't worry, birthday boy. I got you." said Oda in his usual calm voice.

You gently nudged Ango's arm, causing him to tense "You sure you don't want anything to drink?"

"No. Someone has to drive you home anyway." he replied without taking his eyes off of the glass in front of him.

Ango was the newest addition to your group; quite a reserved and stoic guy but you still liked him. He would often give you a lift after you had a few glasses at the bar.

"Alright. Suit yourself then."

That evening you parted ways, promising eachother to meet more often. Dazai left with Oda and you with Ango; the latter opening the passenger door for you.

"Angoo" you whined as you dropped onto the cushioned seat "My head hurts"

"Of course it hurts. You've had a lot to drink" he said in a slightly amused voice.

You noticed a few weeks prior that Ango would often let his guard down when it was only the two of you. It was a subtle change but you still noticed it: his shoulders were less tense, the line between his eyebrows would almost completely fade and he'd laugh more often.

During the ride home you looked at his profile. You were mesmerized by the way the city lights reflected in his glasses.

Without thinking, you reached for his glasses and snatched them, causing the man to almost crash into a nearby car. He managed to pull over in an empty parking space.

"Jesus, Y/N. I almost hit someone what are you doing?" he questioned in a harsh voice; but all his anger dissipated when he saw you propped against the door, adjusting his glasses on your face.

"Looook Ango. I'm pretty just like you now" you blurted out while smiling from ear to ear. A slight blush tinted his cheeks as he seized his glasses, earning another whine from you.

You were both quiet for the rest of the ride and by the time he pulled into the parking lot of your building you were almost asleep.

"Wake up, we're here" he spoke, gently shaking your shoulder but you only shurgged.

"Don't wanna go"

Ango looked at you for a few minutes, debating his next actions. He could let you sleep in his car, but that meant he'd have to spend the night in the parking lot. Or he could carry you to your apartment, which is exactly what he ended up doing.

Luckily the building had a functional elevator so he needn't walk you up the stairs to the 16th floor. He unlocked your door and walked inside your flat, placing you on the bed. Even in this drunked state you were pretty; laying on your side, your flushed cheeks like ripe apricots.

Just as he was about to leave you opened your eyes, calling out his name.

"Stay Ango please. Need to tell you s'mthing" you uttered while patting the bed. He cautiously took a seat and you pulled him down next to you, your arms wrapping around his torso.

He tried to protest but to no avail; you wouldn't let him go. Instead, you shifted closer to him, your face finding its way to the crook of his neck as you whispered a soft "I like you Ango" before drifting to sleep.

From then on you started seeing the man more and more often, the relationship between you growing by the day. It was still complicated; Ango was secretive and distant but you compensated with patience and trust. He eventually gave in and in three weeks time you started dating. It was one of the happiest months of your life; the usual missions were followed not by lonely nights, but by wonderful evenings spent in the comforting embrace of your boyfriend. "You did great today", "I'm really proud of you" he'd praise you, his fingers tracing random shapes along your thigh.

You'd often go on small dates: walks in the rain, late night talks under the starry sky on the top of his apartment building, a glass of wine in your hand, quick runs to the bookstore and occasional visits to different art museums; other times you'd simply join Dazai and Oda for drinks at Lupin.

But regardless of what you did in your free time, you did it together, your lives and routines slowly bleeding into eachother.

Your relationship ended abruptly on the day Oda died. When you found out about his involvement in your friend's death you fell to pieces. Although Ango begged you to stay, claiming that he never knew what would happen, that he didn't mean to hurt anyone, you couldn't be with him any longer. At least not now. No, you didn't blame him for Oda's death but he still lied to you and you felt betrayed.

The decisive factor in your resolve to flee the country was Dazai's disappearance. When you received his note saying that he'd left the Mafia and was going under the radar for a while, you booked a one-way flight to Paris, packed your few belongings and left.

Your recollection was interrupted by a loud chime that echoed through the subway, followed by the familiar mechanic voice that announced your arrival at the last station.

You quickly stepped out of the tube and navigated through the maze of tunnels until you reached the surface. A light drizzle had started while you were underground so you hurried home, eager to be confined in the comfort of your apartment.

When you opened the front door, the unopened envelope that lay on the ground caught your eyes. You picked it up and immediately recognized the handwriting. Without wasting a minute you tore the cover and procured the letter inside, your eyes scanning the paper.

Dear Y/N

I thought about whether I should reach out to you or not but I think it's time I did. Since you haven't been returning my calls I decided to write you a letter. It's been two months since Oda died and things are rough here; I just want to know if you're okay and safe. Please come home soon, I miss you.

Ango

You stared at the written piece of papern, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, clouding your vision. A few minutes later you neatly folded the letter, placing it on the countertop.

Maybe you were going to answer him, maybe you were going to go back to Yokohama, to him, but maybe you should think about these things tomorrow. But...

By the time you fell asleep, the night sky was already giving way to the rosy colours of the sunrise. The warm rays that entered the room through your large window fell onto your sleeping figure, illuminating the screen of your phone.

Suddenly, its display lit up and a blip announced that you had a new message:

I see my letter got to you, thanks for texting me. I'm really glad you're doing okay. Whenever you decide to come back I'll be here for you. ~Ango

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd ango #ango x reader #ango sakaguchi #ango bsd #bsd dazai #dazai bsd

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hardestgrove · 2 years

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A small thing I wrote because I’d mentioned ages ago the cute concept of Billy teaching my littlest oc in my stranger things oc family Alison how to swim and I finally decided to write it. While you can read more about Alison and her family (mainly the older siblings and not Alison lol) in my Black Planet series all you really need for context for this is that it’s like May and Billy is close with the King family via Emily who’s in his and Steve’s class at school and their mutual friend/partner.

black planet taglist: @emeraldwitches @darkovempire @hargroveshaunt @iwigyounot @polaris-talks-fandom @rebsmoonn @znxvvallvsfi (unable to tag)

He’d come over to the King place to use their pool, Harrington’s was heated sure but his parents were actually around right now and Billy didn’t wanna talk to them. It was warm enough out anyway it wasn’t that big of a deal. Emily had given him cart blanche to come over whenever so he just let himself in and made his way through to the pool. Thing was when Alison, the littlest King, had noticed him and his swim shorts she decided it was play time for her too.

He’d been hoping to get some sun and some laps in but she came charging back down in her own little pink bathing suit he knew he was on kiddie duty. It was kind of a pain but he didn’t mind it too much really, he liked Alison. She was cute kind. A little blonde haired bundle of sweetness. So he dumped his shit on one of the pool chairs and hopped in the pool with her.

Alison was 7 now so she could swim but he knew when he was her age he could’ve swam circles around her. Most likely she got taken to those “how not to drown” lessons for babies since they had a pool and anything else she learned just swimming in it. He figured while he was here he might as well help her out on that.

“Hey princess wanna get some swimming lessons?”

“But I can swim! Why would I need lessons?”

“Check this out—“

Billy left her in the shallow end to do an quick and easy backstroke lap to the deep end and back. When he came back to the shallow end and she latched onto him all excited.

“Yeah! I wanna learn! Teach meeee!”

Billy laughed and put an arm around her to keep her up.

“Okay I gotcha.” He waded over to the side and peeled her off of him. “Alright first things first little missy I’m gonna teach you how to push off from the side and then I’m gonna help you with the back glide okay?”

He got in position, hands grabbing the rim, feet flat on the side of the pool, head back looking up at the sky. “Start off like this okay?”

He nodded to Alison and she mimicked him and he looked over her form before moving on.

“Lookin’ good. Okay from here we’re gonna push off and we’re gonna keep our chin up, our hips up at the surface and we’re gonna point our toes okay? Even when we’re kicking. Got that?”

Alison nodded excitedly. “Got it!”

He smiled. “Okay, 3…2… 1…”

They pushed off, Alison full throttle and Billy nowhere near and as they glided into the pool Billy shifted so he could place his hand on her back and keep her hips up.

“Okay princess lookin’ good I’m gonna help you stay up now alright? Remember chin up” He adjusted her chin, “Hips up” He pushed gently at her back “And toes pointed even when you’re kicking got that?”

“Yup!”

“Okay good girl. Now gimme some kicks.”

Alison started kicking as he gently guided her around the pool.

“Arms stuck to your sides— that’s it Ally girl real good.”

Alison grinned up at him and he couldn’t help but grin back as he guided them back to the side.

“Okay great job. Let’s do it again a few times then I’m gonna let you try on your own okay?”

They easily spent something like 40 minutes just working her up to the point where she really didn’t need him at all before they moved onto adding in the arms. She was pretty good, and a pleasure to have as a student. She was just so excited and happy to be there. He liked Alison a lot, she reminded him about how fun being a kid could be. Sometimes Billy felt like all he did was fucking break everything around him but Alison always looked at him like he was her hero. She didn’t look at him and see someone scary. She was always excited for him to be there. It was a fucking head trip and yeah it did make him feel pretty cool. Eventually though it was pretty clear she was getting tuckered out and he figured it was best to call it a day.

“Okay okay, great job but I think that’s enough for the day. Let’s just hang out for a bit alright?”

“But I didn’t learn it all yet!” She whined and pouted.

Billy held her up easily, scrunched his nose and smiled down at her conspiratorially.

“And this ain’t gonna be your only lesson kid so don’t worry. I’ll teach you all the tricks alright? When we’re done you’ll be as good as any chump on the swim team.”

Alison looked like she was fit to burst. “Really Billy!? You’re gonna keep teaching me!”

“Yeah sure princess. I’ll talk to Ems and we’ll work it aaall out .”

Alison screamed happily, nearly taking out his fucking ear drums, and launched herself at him. Her little arms locked around his neck and Billy laughed and held her close. He’d kill for this kid. She was all sunshine and rainbows. Her siblings all worked overtime to keep the worst of their parents away from her and Billy’d decided months ago he’d throw himself in on that. Just to keep this kinda goodness alive and safe. Ally refused to let go of him so he walked them up and out of the pool and wrapped them both up in a big fluffy beach towel. She weighed basically nothing to him so he really didn’t care that she was insisting on hanging on to him, talking all about the big events of her little first grader life. He sat them down on a pool chair directly in the sun knowing he was in for even more babysitting time than he’d already given.

And honestly, he was alright with that.

#stranger things ocs #ocappreciation #stranger things fanfic #billy hargrove #alison king #writing.doc #billy teaching kiddies my beloved #I JUST WANTED NICE BILLY CONTENT #bp content

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tripleaxelrose · 2 years

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12N

He is 22. She is 25. He hesitates before waking her, his hand hovering above her pale shoulder in the half-light of dawn, the darkness in the skylight above them giving way to steel gray. She lays curled on her side, her back to him, the ridges of her spine vulnerable and perfect as pearls. She seems so small to him in this moment, her Olympic-honed body carrying nothing extra, razor-sharp and light enough to fly. He wonders how they will change in the coming weeks and months, when the brutality of their training schedules wanes – maybe for now, maybe forever. How his own body will feel without the punishing daily run-throughs, the endless drilling of jumps that strain his hips and pulverize his ankles. He wonders if either of them will make it past 40 without knee replacements. He can feel the panic rising, thinking of himself – of both of them – at 40.

As if she can hear the whirring of his thoughts, she shifts, turns over, her sleepy eyes adjusting. She edges closer to him and the renewed contact with her body feels like a shock, a sudden return of warmth rushing through him. He runs a hand over her hip.

“We have to go,” he says.

“I know,” she says with a sad half-smile, planting a kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“Testing…”

“Is at seven, I know…” she murmurs, slowly trailing a line of kisses up his jaw to his earlobe. “I actually read the schedule, you know.”

“First time for everything,” he says, his breathing not working quite correctly.

“How much time do we have?”

“About an hour,” he says, finally capturing her lips with his own.

He laughs against her skin when she abruptly breaks the kiss and presses him onto his back. With a toss of the covers, she throws her leg over his hip. He presses his fingers into her thighs and she leans over from above him, kisses him again.

“Well,” she breathes, planting a hand on the mattress on either side of his head, “We’d better not waste any time.”

The sun is almost up when they peel themselves out of the tangled sheets. Despite what they’ve just been doing, what they spent most of last night doing, he’s not entirely sure where to look. When she spies him stealing glances at her from the opposite side of the bed, she snatches her sweater off the floor and flings it at him. (She looks too, and looks again, he notices. The blood rushes to his face.)

In the car back to the village, she dozes on his shoulder, the sunlight splashing across her cheeks and catching on her eyelashes. He dreads the moment when they will have to step out of the car, walk back across the perimeter into the village. He’s not even worried about being caught, though the precautions he’s taken make it unlikely that they will. He considers what comes after, about the flight home, the strange next steps of their lives. He’s scheduled to be back on campus by the end of summer. And her… he does not quite know what’s next for her. He doesn’t think she knows either.

They make it back with enough time to part ways with a quick squeeze of their hands, slide back into their dorm rooms, and meet again at the testing station – both of them uniformed and back in their team colors, her hair brushed into its neat ponytail, his jacket zipped all the way up. They have ten minutes to spare, even. (They quietly congratulate each other on this with all the seriousness they can muster, waiting in the testing line, trying not to giggle.) He finds it almost impossible not to touch her.

Finally, he pulls out his phone and types a message before he can stop himself. She’s standing two feet in front of him and he can hear her phone buzz in the pocket of her warm-up jacket. He cannot see her face when she reads it.

You are the most perfect thing I have ever seen.

He tries to watch over her shoulder as she answers, but she keeps her phone close, the screen out of his view.

His own phone buzzes to life.

And you are beautifully imperfect, and that’s what I love best about you.

He nearly drops his phone. Remembers almost nothing about the test, the hard jab in his left nostril, the emotionless delivery of a negative result. They have barely set foot outside the door, into the cold morning air, when he realizes that he’s done worrying about protocol. He grabs her wrist and she stops. Tells her to meet him outside of the dorm, their usual spot, in fifteen minutes. She nods. He gets there in ten.

He waits with his mask off, breathing hard, pacing in the shadow of the building, heart pounding. He tries to rehearse what he wants to say, but knows he doesn’t have time, that he’s too nervous to remember anyway. When she darts from around the corner and faces him, carefully pulling off her own mask, he doesn’t have any patience left. He doesn’t say hello.

“Did you just tell me you love me in a text message?”

“OK, I love you.”

She is matter-of-fact, absolutely not ribbing him or joking, her eyes serious. Later, he will swear that she picks her chin up a little when she says it, an extra vote of resolve. The wind goes out of his lungs. He leans back against the building.

“We are bad at talking about…”

“Basically everything,” she smiles, maybe a little bit of ribbing creeping in.

“Basically everything,” he repeats, touching her hand. “And if I was less bad at talking about things, I would have told you I loved you ten years ago.”

“Ten years ago you were in the seventh grade,” she says, laughing, and then, seeing his face, suddenly stops.

He’s quiet, looks at his feet.

“Oh my god,” she says.

Her arms go around him and her hold is fierce, her cheek buried in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” she whispers without letting go.

It takes them both a long time to let go. In those moments, it all becomes very straightforward for him. Her in his arms. The future crystal clear. He does not take any time to consider it, or even to consider what her answer will be, and this, somewhere inside him, he knows is a strange kind of progress. And he is so tired. So tired of not saying what he needs to say. So tired of working so hard, of restraint and discipline and eliminating distractions. He is so exhausted at giving all of himself so completely to the idea of a gold medal that it has left nothing else for him. So when she steps back, smiling, he just says it.

“Move to Connecticut with me.”

She tips her head to the side, as though she has not quite heard or understood him. And he knows right away, before the word is even out of her mouth. He feels as though someone has pushed him off a cliff.

“No,” she says, with a sad shake of her head.

“Why not? It would be so easy. It would be…”

“A mess,” she says with a chuckle, touching the side of his face. She takes a breath, looks him in the eyes. She is still smiling. “You need to finish college. And I think I’m going to keep skating.”

He forgets for an instant, almost, that she will not be coming East with him. It is a wild choice. One that makes no sense – almost. Until he realizes that it makes perfect sense.

“I am the strongest I have ever been,” she says, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m not going to make the podium at worlds, but right now, there’s room for me. I want to see what else I can do. And then in a year, we’ll see.”

He takes her hand in both of his, kisses the expanse of skin on the back of it. “So if I ask you to move to Connecticut with me a year from now, will you say yes?”

“Let’s see how I do at Nationals,” she grins, tossing a cheeky jerk of her shoulder in his direction. “And you know I’ll need coaching help. Seems like the long-distance thing worked out for you.”

Their laughter gives way to a kiss. And then a few more. They make a plan, this time for the closing ceremony. The first of many. They decide to march together.

He holds her hand when no one is looking. Buried in the folds of their bulky uniform coats. They take hundreds of photos. The team takes hundreds more. The press takes hundreds more than that. And the two of them are everywhere, arms around each other, smiling, the medal gleaming around his neck. And the chatter will start – they’re friends. They’re definitely more than friends. They’re just friends, the pendulum of conversation swinging back and forth. It is more or less what they expect, but when people who know them ask, there will be something in their smiles, a spark that wasn’t there just a few months before.

The air in the stadium is cold, prickling in their lungs, the night sky cloudless and dark, the city lights blocking out the stars.

He tries to remember what this felt like last time and realizes, all of a sudden and with a lurch in his stomach, that he left ahead of the closing ceremonies at his first Olympics. That he was so distraught, nearly broken, that all he could do was pack his bag and go home, boarding his flight like a zombie, landing in California with nothing but his skates and his resolve. So this is a first for both of them.

There are endless high fives from strangers in other delegations. So much shouting from the team. When the officials speak in a long presentation, he translates the Mandarin for her in a low voice. And when he pauses for too long, she dissolves into fits of laughter.

“You have no idea what he’s saying,” she hisses under her breath.

“I do too! Just let me think about it for a second.”

Waves of fireworks explode above their heads, so many that they become obscured behind clouds of smoke, their edges flashing bright with color. He watches as she cranes her neck back, gasps, applauds. And he feels it run through him, a sense of sureness, that the ground is firmly under his feet. In this moment, anyway. He puts a hand on her back and she looks up at him and smiles.

#nathan x mariah #nathan chen #mariah bell #my fic #the end

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gonegrove · 2 years

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originally posted on hardestgrove which is trapped in hell now. reposted completely unedited.

black planet taglist: @emeraldwitches @darkovempire @hargroveshaunt @iwigyounot @polaris-talks-fandom @rebsmoonn @znxvvallvsfi (unable to tag)

“Hey princess wanna get some swimming lessons?”

“But I can swim! Why would I need lessons?”

“Check this out—“

Billy left her in the shallow end to do an quick and easy backstroke lap to the deep end and back. When he came back to the shallow end and she latched onto him all excited.

“Yeah! I wanna learn! Teach meeee!”

Billy laughed and put an arm around her to keep her up.

He got in position, hands grabbing the rim, feet flat on the side of the pool, head back looking up at the sky. “Start off like this okay?”

He nodded to Alison and she mimicked him and he looked over her form before moving on.

“Lookin’ good. Okay from here we’re gonna push off and we’re gonna keep our chin up, our hips up at the surface and we’re gonna point our toes okay? Even when we’re kicking. Got that?”

Alison nodded excitedly. “Got it!”

He smiled. “Okay, 3…2… 1…”

They pushed off, Alison full throttle and Billy nowhere near and as they glided into the pool Billy shifted so he could place his hand on her back and keep her hips up.

“Yup!”

“Okay good girl. Now gimme some kicks.”

Alison started kicking as he gently guided her around the pool.

“Arms stuck to your sides— that’s it Ally girl real good.”

Alison grinned up at him and he couldn’t help but grin back as he guided them back to the side.

“Okay great job. Let’s do it again a few times then I’m gonna let you try on your own okay?”

“Okay okay, great job but I think that’s enough for the day. Let’s just hang out for a bit alright?”

“But I didn’t learn it all yet!” She whined and pouted.

Billy held her up easily, scrunched his nose and smiled down at her conspiratorially.

“And this ain’t gonna be your only lesson kid so don’t worry. I’ll teach you all the tricks alright? When we’re done you’ll be as good as any chump on the swim team.”

Alison looked like she was fit to burst. “Really Billy!? You’re gonna keep teaching me!”

“Yeah sure princess. I’ll talk to Ems and we’ll work it aaall out .”

And honestly, he was alright with that.

#stranger things ocs #ocappreciation #fyeahstrangerthingsocs #stranger things fanfic #billy hargrove #alison king #writing.doc #billy teaching kiddies my beloved #I JUST WANTED NICE BILLY CONTENT #bp content #the ancient texts

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little-corritrice · 11 months

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Light of My Life - Chapter 10

Synopsis - y/n was your ordinary young women, who happened to be the daughter of Christian Horner. She is there every race, and every day, See how she gets along with everyone, including a special someone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Couple Weeks Later

Me and Alex have been doing good. I haven't spent a day at my house, spending time with him. Christian was okay with it, and even told me to start packing my stuff, which made me laugh. Today was another ordinary day, me and Alex chilling on the couch in each others arms. "So, what do you want to do today?" He asked, making me sit up. "If the boys are free, we can go karting today." I suggested, him instantly agreeing. "Great. I'll call the boys. Go get all your gear." He said, already calling George. I shook my head, walking upstairs. I grabbed all my race gear, along with his. I went back downstairs to see him already getting our jackets and the keys. "They said they'll meet us down there." He said, grabbing my free hand. "How far is it?" I asked, putting our bags in the car. "Like thirty minutes." He said, getting in the car with me.

After our 40 minute drive, which was suppose to be 30, we pulled into the race track. "Okay, so I'll get the passes. You just find a parking spot." I said, getting out. He nodded, driving off. I went to the ticket booth, signing us in. "Are you here with a group?" The lady asked. "Yes. I believe it's under Lando Norris." I said, singing my name on the paper. "Great. Here you go. Enjoy." She said. I sent her a smile, walking to the gate. I waited a minute for Alex, and went in hand in hand with him. We found our tent, and Lando. "If it isn't my favorite bean." I said, bringing Lando into a hug. He giggled, hugging me back tightly. "How's it going? I don't have to beat anyone, right?" He asked, semi-glaring at Alex. "Not today." I said, kissing his cheek. "Well, we can go on track whenever, so go get changed when your ready." He said, patting my back. I nodded, and said hello to the rest of the crew.

I have know these guys since forever since I grew up with Lando. I had a conversation with the head engineer, telling him how to put my kart. I have been racing before, from karting to f2 cars. I also test the f1 cars for Red Bull sometime. I helped out on fixing my kart, doing all the adjustments to what I like, and my preferences. The engineer just helped here and there. "Didn't you take mechanical engineering in college for like 4 years?" He asked, making me nod. "I didn't know what to do after driving so I went to college. It was hard, but I still managed to get it." I explained, finishing the kart. "But aside from me, how are the girls? I haven't seen them in forever." I asked, striking up another conversation. After a while of talking, he told me to go get dressed so I could go out. I laughed, but complied to the orders. Me and Alex went into the motorhome.

George was in their, putting his shoes on. "Aah, it's the troublemaker." He joked, referring to me. "Haha, Georgina. Don't be salty because your gonna get your ass handed to you." I joked, putting on my suit. I started putting on my shoes, while he just rambled on about something. "Are you even listening?" He asked, scoffing in offense. "No. Sorry, I'm a little distracted." I said, having a nervous feeling all of a sudden. He sighed, rubbing my shoulder. "I'm sure there is nothing to worry about." He said, but the door opened and Lando came in. "Guys. Ethan is here. Just watch out for him." He said, leaving. I turned to George, giving him a look. "Okay, never-mind then. Just try to stay away from him." He said, Alex agreeing. I sighed, grabbing my helmet and neck protector.

We were all on the grid, and we had to go out with Ethan and some rookies. I was slightly worried because we didn't have a good history with Ethan. I could practically feel him staring. I sighed, shaking my head. Lando looked over at me, and gave me a little thumbs up. I nodded, putting my visor done as we were given the okay to go out. We went off, nothing much happening. We did our warmup lap, and then we could go full-speed. I sighed as we rounded the corner for the full-speed marker. As soon as I passed the line, I was off. I was ahead of the rest, having spent many years in karting. I got some championships under my belt before I decided to give it a break. The lap was going good, but I kept having the nervous feeling. Lando, Alex and George were all behind me, but Ethan was directly behind me.

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worldofanimenews · 2 years

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Thoughts on Anime Expo Chibi 2022: A Compilation

A9ent 760 - Staff Writer When Anime Expo announced an event in Ontario, California for November 2022, I thought it would be a good opportunity to get back into the anime convention experience after being away from the scene for years. The recent passing of my friend Greg Hignight, who had been a well-known personality in the L.A. anime scene, brought out many friends that I have not seen in a long time and have reconnected me with the convention scene at first with Pacific Media Expo in San Gabriel a couple of weeks ago and with AX chibi his past weekend. In the spirit of Greg's "Go out and show them what you've got and be proud of it" motto, the following thoughts I've had about the convention this past weekend have initially made their way on my social media, and for the sake of posterity I've decided to make those thoughts available in one blog post on a site I haven't touched in a long time. Hopefully, it will give you a sense of what it's like to be at a convention in Ontario, California and plan accordingly and also to give you a taste of how Anime Expo did with their first "mini" event and give you a sense of whether you want to spend the money to attend or not.

DAY ZERO Ontario is a great venue for throwing an anime convention because of its access to hotels near the convention center for travelers, whether they are driving there or flying in (if you don't mind shuttling over from ONT airport). Mass transit options aren't readily available to the convention, outside of the Ontario East Metrolink station on the Riverside line and what seems to be a 35-minute bus ride from there to the convention center. Since it's a commuter line, don't expect weekend service to take anyone back and forth from the show, though. Hopefully the county can do something to improve on the ground transportation options heading to and from the convention center in the future.

The big issue for attendees on a budget, eating at the convention center can be super expensive, but what the food choice in convention center catering lacks, the "night market" food trucks make up for it while giving attendees a chance to get some variety in what they're eating for the day (food costs may vary). The only issue that may be a deal breaker is the "outside food and drink policy" inside of the venue area. You aren't able to bring food or drink upon entering the premises and con center staff will ask you to dispose of it before tapping your wristband to enter. Speaking of which, no badges were issued for AX chibi but you will be issued an RFID wristband with a "tighten once" adjustment and if it gets lost you have to pay a replacement fee, so plan accordingly.

While no indoor events were held on day zero, the bathrooms were available for attendees to use, but masking is required anywhere inside the building unless you're eating or drinking. To make up for events being held outside, careful consideration has been made to provide most of the outdoor sitting areas with a heat lamp to keep everyone warm in the 40 degree weather til the event ended around 11PM. Artist Alley was open for business and was inside a tent, but I haven't had a chance to see if it was climate controlled somehow. The outdoor stage handled all of the live programming of the show including a City Pop Dance Party event run by Gregory A. Hignight's Tune In Tokyo Events team and the DJ's dedicated their set to him in light of his recent passing. Other live events included performances by Koto, S4X, Super Soul Brothers, Black Ros3 and tsUgU Itagaki with each event ramping up the energy as the show went into the evening. With the temperature in mind at this time of the year, my suggestion for attendees would be to dress warmly if most of your time will be spent outside hanging out with friends or catching cosplayers around the show.

I'm looking forward to seeing what the convention has in store for the rest of the weekend and hope that the powers that be at SPJA continue to improve on it and keep bringing events like this to the IE. DAY ONE I finally got a chance to check out the artist alley. Despite being outside in a big tent, it looks like artists were in a mostly climate protected location and the crowds inside the tent weren't a complete fire hazard. A look into the dealers' room had a really good selection of merchandise that was sure to cater to anyone looking for anything from clothing to traditional offerings like posters and the occasional sword and plushy. Seeing Hypland's display of a Lambo and a Porsche decked out in Naruto and DBZ was the first thing to catch your attention the moment you walked into the dealer's room and makes me think of how far dealers' rooms have evolved from the days when most halls wouldn't have had that 30 years ago. Other offerings included the manga room where one can read a manga while resting in a room with other anime fans, the arcade room for vintage and current arcade video games, a tabletop gaming room, Lounge 21 for the 21 and over crowd with musical performances on a mini stage, a cosplay set space with different scenes for cosplay photographers to do photo shoots in different settings and a maid cafe provided by the Dreamland Maid Cafe crew, which I would have found out more about if there was enough visible signage telling attendees that there was an actual second floor with tons of other stuff to do.

I also spent part of the day hanging out with a con attendee who had never been to a California anime convention before and it got me thinking that sometimes it takes a fresh pair of eyes to show you what it is that makes conventions special. While most of the time was spent looking through the dealer's hall and "speed running" the artist alley (which never really ended up not speed running at all lol), the rest of the time was spent talking about what anime fandom was like in Missouri (the conversation felt so wholesome and innocent it made me appreciate how lucky California has it sometimes) and watching him take photos of cosplayers from different anime shows that are popular these days. It all goes to show that no matter how different the scene has changed, the whole core of the fandom and how attendees act has not changed significantly in the past 30 years and it was refreshing to see enough to re-invigorate the spirit. I swear the energy just felt so infectious that you wanted to get motivated to do fun stuff at the convention, and I really appreciated that feeling. Fast forwarding a couple hours and outdoor live events continued to catch people's attention with music shows, cultural workshops and performances concluding the night with Dueling DJs at the end of the night. I was able to check out the Bon Odori Dance lessons provided by Little Tokyo's Ondo dance group where they were encouraging crowd participation while teaching you Japanese folk dancing and how it could also be easily applied do modern music (which they called "Pop Ondo") and it was very fun to watch. If my legs weren't so tired from all the walking around and standing, I probably would have joined in. Night Market/Food Vendors and photo booth were still running and the larger turnout of people on Saturday really filled out the place til about 9-10pm when crowds started to dwindle. Things wound down around the 10 o'clock hour with no one at the food trucks and most of the indoor programming and artist alley closed, but the DJs carried the night with a healthy amount of stragglers til the venue closed up around 11PM.

Knowing that the night market and food trucks* will not be available on Sunday, that leaves the outdoor stage, artists alley and indoor events left to carry out the con til closing at 6pm, so I hope they can finish the weekend off on a high note. Here's hoping they can pull it off.

[*Editor's Note: the food trucks ended up being available on Sunday until the end of show at 6PM]

DAY TWO: THE FINAL DAY What could they do to end its inaugural weekend and leave attendees on an emotional high? While the final day of convention is usually a recover from wild partying and pack up to leave, the convention felt like it was doing the same. Night Market and Night Market Stage were closed off to prepare for closing, so events were moved into the "North Rotunda" of the convention center so that basically translated to events being mostly relegated to the back of the building that hardly anyone noticed. Although there were rumblings that the stage was used for events, but I didn't really spend much time outside on the south end to notice. In AX's defense, I thought that their use of the outside patio, which they DID call the North Rotunda was a very creative use of space, making the upper balcony stairwell from the second floor into a DJ booth which gave everyone a clear separation between the performers and the attendees. For me it was more of a chance to spend some time on the events happening inside the building to appreciate some of the indoor events I might have missed from the past two days. It was also a chance for me to get a bit silly thanks to the help of the folks from Furyu in the form of some cardboard bunny ears they were handing out to everyone while promoting their figure company to North American audiences. It sounds like they'll be doing more promotional events in the Los Angeles area, so it will give me an excuse to visit LA city more often.

One of the newer trends with anime conventions in recent years is the inclusion of a maid cafe, and AX chibi had one that seemed to be one of the busier rooms that needed a reservation to get into. A larger room would have probably helped them over the weekend, as attendees were literally filling every hour slot available and there was a limited number of spaces to get into it. This was one of, and only, events which required payment to get into and for the $35 per person minimum with a 2-person party minimum requirement, it was an enhancement to the modern anime convention experience. Dreamland Maid Cafe did a wonderful job at keeping the audience entertained for the hour long service and their dance routines were on point without a movement out of place. My only complaint was probably the waitlist if you wanted to eat at a certain time of the day. Even though I waited in line to make a reservation at 10:30AM, the earliest they could accommodate for me and my party was 5:00PM, which was the last hour of the convention, but it did give me a chance to maximize the time I had left to interact with the con before it closed for the year, which was spent catching up with my cosplay friends (in between photo shoots), my con photographer friends (in between shooting my cosplay friends) and the new friends I've made along my AX chibi journey.

Surprisingly, this one of the few times I can say I've had a good time at an Anime Expo event. The large show in Los Angeles has become an overpriced mess of claustrophobia and herd mentality in recent years, this is a pleasant change. It provided its guests with a taste of what's to come with their large event in the summer while maintaining a harmonious convention-attendee schedule balance. The overall consensus from attendees and vendors has been that it was one of the most relaxed shows they've been to in a long time (and no doubt a money maker for anyone in a seller's capacity over the weekend) and they should be applauded for their effort in making that a reality. I hope that they keep this positive momentum up and that it gives them an incentive to keep this convention going in the years to come.

GOT A CONVENTION TIP OR A NEWS ITEM TO CONTRIBUTE? Share them with us at [email protected].

#axchibi2022 #animeexpo #ax chibi #california

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hanuh · 2 years

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Lights, Cameras, and Tabloids

|1| Trailer Two

Word count | 5.5k

Pairing | Eren x Reader, Armin x Reader

Genre | Actor AU, Modern AU, Love Triangle

Chapter Notes | no warnings this chapter! just lots of film lingo

Chapter Summary | A world where Attack On Titan is just an Emmy Award-winning series and you've been an actor in the series since you were fourteen years old. Flash forward nearly a decade, you’re arriving to set for the first day of filming the final season.

“Good morning Vancouver!” A chipper radio voice echoes throughout your car. Your nose scrunches at the voice being much too loud and much too lively for your eardrums at this ungodly hour. You pull into your assigned parking spot, the cast and crew lot already being pretty full due to today’s extra early call time. “The time is 4:45 AM and I’m here to bring you nonstop hits this Wednesday morning. Next, we have-” You shift the car into to park and press the off button, the radio host’s voice being abruptly cut off.

‘4:45 AM’ you groan internally, dragging a hand down your face and resting your head against the leather headrest. You glance over to the seat next to you seeing a faint light illuminate the car paired with a soft vibration. A hoard of notifications flood your phone. Your whole body moves sluggishly reaching over to check the messages, already knowing who would be blowing up your phone this early. You squint and adjust to the artificial brightness your tired eyes seem to be rejecting this morning.

4:35 AM

Sasha B: Jean’s assistant brought donuts in!! Score. Worth. I don’t regret waking up anymore.

4:39 AM

Sasha B: You better hurry I don’t know how long they’ll last with Connie around. He’s lurking. I can see him eyeing them up. They’re in danger. I repeat. The donuts are in danger.

4:40 AM

Sasha B: Ok I saved you a maple donut!! I’m heading to trailer two meet me there!!!

Sasha B: FALSE ALARM! I’VE BEEN AMBUSHED! HE’S TAKEN A BITE

4:42 AM

Connie S: Sasha is a fucking snake. She ate your donut.

4:43 AM

Jean K: Don’t listen to either of them, they both ate your donut.

You shake your head as a breathy laugh slips pat your lips. You friends are idiots, but god you love them. Are you butt hurt about your donut? Yes. Will you just feast on the craft service table in between scenes instead? Absolutely.

You toss your phone and keys into your canvas bag that lays in disarray on your car floor from a very sharp turn you took earlier on your drive over. You unbuckle your seat belt and exit the car. The cool fall air immediately attacks your body. Knowing you’d spend most of the day in your stealth scout suit inside the studio most likely dangling from suspended wires, you decided to ditch your coat last minute. You could’ve always stored your jacket in your sizeable trailer, but you decided that was far too much effort. No matter how many years you’ve spent filming in Canada you’ll never be used to how skin penetrating the wind can be before the sun makes its daily appearance. If push comes to shove you have no shame walking around set in between scenes donning the light green fleece bathrobe that waits patiently for you in your trailer.

You hug your arms tightly around yourself for warmth as you quickly pace yourself towards the glowing film studio in the distance. You can already see the bright set lights twinkling around the large metal structures and all the crew preparing for a long day of filming in the distance. The setting is comforting and homelike to you.

A low voice breaks through the wind calling your name and taking you out of your slight daze. A knowing smile spreads across your face as you turn and find a tall blond man with his arms open. His golden eyes glow even through the darkness of the early morning. You take off towards him ready to jump in his arms.

“Reiner!” You spring into his embrace squeezing him with all your might. “I didn’t know you were on set today!” Your voice mirrors the same excitement that a kid on Christmas day would have.

“I got called in last minute,” He squeezes you back. You remove yourself from his arms. “I think they want me to get a few extra voiceovers for the Liberio scenes done today. A couple of recordings got corrupted or something.” He grins.

“Well,” You turn back towards the industrial-looking studio. Linking your arm with his you continue your stride over to set. “My morning just got so much better. I swear I haven’t seen you for six months!” Scrunching your nose, you look up towards him.

He lets out a small laugh. “How have you been lately? Was your first day back on set last week?”

You nod, “ Yeah, I was just filming promos and doing fittings last week. Today’s my first day back in full swing. How’ve you been?”

“Great! I’ve been here for the past couple of weeks with team Marley and Eren but I’m excited to have the whole family back.” He releases a small laugh before continuing. “Speaking of the old crew, I’ve seen a lot of you and Armin on my Twitter lately.” He wiggles his eyebrows resulting in a dramatic eye roll from you only making him laugh more.

“Not you too.” You groan.

“Hey hey hey,” He voices teasingly. “on-screen lovers turned to off-screen lovers? If that’s not a tabloid’s wet dream I don’t know what is.” He nudges you. “Doesn’t help that I read you two are co-starring in a Netflix movie together next year. Well, rumour has it at least.”

“You’re such a shit disturber, you know? Have you realized you can text me? Pick up your phone and ask? Not get your news from Twitter?” You laugh out pestering him.

The two of you walk on to set, everyone around you hard at work setting up the lights, dollys, cameras, and every other odd and end needed for a day on set. The hair and makeup trailers are just a few meters ahead as the pair of you slow your pace with Trailer Two in your sights.

Trailer Two has been your assigned trailer since day one. You, Mikasa, Sasha, Annie, and Krista take its occupancy, well and Ymir before she was killed off. Your days have always started at Trailer Two, even long before the Pilot episode, back in the days of being fourteen and the group of you having to film your promos, cast interviews, and test shots. It’s your home away from home. The metal walls of the trailer have heard many girl talks and have seen the many different ups and downs you all have gone through in the past near-decade.

With Trailer Two comes the two stylists that work within it. Lynn, the hairstylist of the trailer, and Rosie who’s been doing your makeup since day one. Lynn was now in her early fifties, she has long auburn hair with flecks of greys sprinkled throughout which is normally tossed in a messy half updo. She always sports a pair of loose blue jeans and a fitted black tank top that showcases her floral tattoo sleeves. She wears thick-framed dark green glasses which makes her deep brown eyes the focal point of her face. She has the vibe of a cool boozy aunt who travels the world only showing up on holidays. Rosie was much younger, just barely in her thirties. Rosie is a new mom, opting to bring her one-year-old on set most days. Her son Finn looks exactly like her, matching with pale blond hair and eyes as green as shamrocks. Rosie was always that older sister figure to you girls. Both of them like family to you, especially since during your teen years you saw more of them than even your own parents.

You smile fondly, already hearing Sasha’s giggling travelling from within Trailer Two.

“Alright. I’m off to the sound booth.” Reiner nods his head in the opposite direction of hair and makeup. He adjusts the backpack on his shoulder and tilts his head. “Wanna grab dinner? Maybe? Hopefully? I have a mad craving for some greasy bar food if you’re in. Invite the rest of the crew too!”

You beam. “Consider it a date! Well, if Connie and Jean can keep down the takes and stay on a schedule that is.” You both share a quick laugh. Your mind quickly thinks back to the days when you were all teenagers during your first season of filming and the many times your older castmates would groan at the shenanigans of the entirety of the younger cast.

Mainly the shenanigans of Jean and Connie.

Especially the ones of Jean and Connie.

“They really do be the majority of the blooper reel don’t they?” He chuckles thinking back to the time Jean and himself filled Dot Pixis’ flask with real whiskey.

“Honestly I think the production crew is calling us in early today because they know they have to make it through a lot of their scenes.” You step towards the trailer “Pray for us.” You wave off to him and he begins to walk into the warehouse-looking building as you enter the trailer. Sasha’s giggles clearly echo through the space, Lynn laughing with her as she holds her hair fixing it in Sasha’s signature ponytail. Sasha’s eyes flicker to yours through the mirror. Panic flushes her face.

“okaydontbemadbutImayhave-” She rushes out incoherently.

“Sasha slow down.” You grin and occupy the chair to her right, your name embroidered in gold across the back of it. You plop your bag next to the chair, a couple of items falling out onto the ground. You don’t care enough to pick it up so instead you focus back on a nervous Sasha.

“I ate it.”

“I know.”

She turns abruptly, earning a chirp from Lynn. “The donut? How do you know?”

“Jean.” You giggle, at Sasha’s instant mood change from panic to anger.

“Jean?” She seethes, earning another scold from Lynn who’s just trying to get her camera ready. Sasha mumbles ‘narc’ under her breath.

“He texted me.” Your eyes narrow teasingly. “Weren’t you protecting it from Connie? And you two just ate it?” You hold back a smile that toys at your lips not even being able to fake being upset towards her.

“Well protecting it took a lot of energy from me and I needed to fuel up again.” Her hands race up to her sides in defence causing Lynn to chastise her as she attempts to fix up her bangs.

You stare her down before a giggle slips past your lips. Sasha is quick to join in as the two of you boom with laughter now. You hear another person’s chuckle come from the left of Sasha and you peer over, still giggling. Your eyes are met with the dark silver of Mikasa’s that stare back in amusement. “I told them you’d be here in a moment, but they couldn’t wait.”

“You’re always looking out for me Mikasa,” You smile at her, leaning back into your chair. “Unlike some people I know.” You shoot Sasha another teasing glare. She rolls her eyes back at you and pulls out her phone, quickly snapping a picture of your weak glare. You watch her tap away at her phone for a moment before feeling your’s buzz in your lap. A ton of notifications litter your screen but the most recent one being is Instagram saying sashaa.b has mentioned you in their story. You shake your head as you open the notification. A picture of you and your pitiful glare stares back at you and probably the other thousands of people who have already checked Sasha’s story. Sasha wrote ‘Day One of filming and she’s already planning on murdering me’ You shift your focus to the background of the picture. You squint at a figure that looms in the back trailer, leaning against the doorframe. Before you have a chance to turn and check who was there, you feel a face move next to your ear.

“I think you look more adorable than menacing.” A low whisper tickles your ear, butterflies flutter up your stomach at the soft voice. “But then again I’m not the person who ate your breakfast.”

Moving your gaze up the mirror in front of you, you find the bright emerald eyes belonging to Eren Jaeger staring back at you with the same playfulness they always do. You can't stop the smile, that's basically reflex at this point, from spreading across your face as you take in his body leaning down near yours. He smiles back, tossing you a subtle wink.

"Eren," Sasha groans, "I will not take this slander. Connie basically forced me to eat it."

"Yeah okay, likely excuse." Eren stands straight, twisting his back to release a series of cracks. You to take this moment to watch his form, something you've found yourself doing more and more as time goes on.

He's dressed in his Marley uniform, tissues tucked in along the collar so the special effects makeup of his Titan Shifting markings don’t rub off on the uniform in between filming. His hair is still in the half bun he normally wears off-screen, not yet touched by his stylist. Your eyes trail across his strong jawline, it clenches as a yawn slips past his lips. Before you can find yourself lost in watching the movement of his lips, his voice tears you from your thoughts. "Ran into Reiner on his way to the sound booth. Told me he saw you walking onto set and thought I'd check in on you and give you this." He moves his arm up from his side and drops a small paper bag on your lap. Your eyes twinkle with childlike giddiness, catching Eren's breath in his throat. You open the bag with your nimble fingers, reaching in and find a carrot muffin that’s still warm. "I had my assistant pick up an extra one on her way."

"It's like you know me or something," You glance over to Eren as he moves to lean against the counter that's littered with all sorts of makeup and hair products. Your smile softens and you tear a piece of the muffin popping it into your mouth. Sweet, spicy, and full of the warmth your body has craved all morning. "Thanks, Eren."

Eren's mouth opens but is quickly cut off before he can let out a word. "Jaeger," A call comes from outside. You turn and find the show's executive stylist walking into the trailer casually sipping on a paper coffee cup. He adjusts his baseball cap before taking another sip, his glasses sliding with the tilt of his head. He tosses the now empty cup in the trash right by the door before turning back to Eren. "You're wanted in trailer four, I think they're ready to finish up your hair."

"You got it, boss." Eren swiftly walks out of the trailer, the older male following suit. Before out of sight he gives you a meek wave and you return it as he disappears.

You turn back to face the mirror, taking another piece of the muffin and chewing on it slowly. You're about to grab your phone but you find both Mikasa and Sasha staring at you, both sharing a knowing smirk.

"What?" You question, making even Lynn shakes her auburn head. "Seriously, what?"

"You're hopeless." Mikasa sighs grabbing her phone, leaning deeper into her chair. "You're both hopeless."

"Wait, what?" You glare, trying to coax more out of her. "How am I hopeless?"

Sasha stares back at herself through the mirror. She makes eye contact with Lynn, both snickering. The right corner of Lynn's mouth rests in a smirk, having worked hair and makeup on Attack On Titan since the Pilot episode, she knows all too well of the behind-the-scenes moments and feelings that have sprung over the years. She gives Sasha's dark hair a hefty spritz of hairspray feeling fond, almost like watching her kids grow up. At this point, Rosie who's currently painting bruises, blood, and filth onto the pale skin of Mikasa's face, has picked up on the conversation at hand as well.

"Oh sweet, sweet, (Y/N), don't act like we haven't seen how you and Eren look at each other. Almost as if we all haven't spent the past like nine years with the two of you or anything." Sasha rolls her eyes, picking up her phone.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and the soft flush that is spreading across your cheeks."I don't know what you-" You’re quickly cut off by Sasha.

“Remember that one time a fan was going through Eren’s Twitter follows a few years ago and he followed not one, but two accounts dedicated to the two of your characters being together?”

If you had only a light blush mere seconds ago, you were up in flames. “That doesn’t-”

“Or,” It’s now Mikasa’s turn to chime in. “When Armin, him, and I were doing the press tour last season and he even said in an interview that you’re his celebrity crush.”

“He was only joking-”

Rosie smirks, “I saw him pump himself up for ten minutes outside the trailer to even just ask if you wanted to share a car to the Emmys a few years back.”

Maybe you’re dead.

Maybe this is hell.

Maybe, just maybe that corner you took a bit too sharp this morning actually killed you. That’s the only explanation of how your heart can be beating this fast without you dropping dead right here right now. You’re already dead.

“Don’t act like I haven’t heard what the boys talk about in Trailer Four when I need to grab some extra supplies.” Lynn shakes her head as you chew at the inside of your lip. Lynn smooths down a few more of Sasha’s strands before approaching your chair to start working on you for the day. She laughs, nodding her head towards the hair washing station. “Admit it, you are hopeless.”

You toss a quick side-eye towards the watchful women as you get up, sticking your phone into your pants pocket, heading to the workstation.

Yep, this is hell.

You take a seat in the plush leather chair, tilting your head back into the attached sink. Lynn fiddles around with the temperature before moving the shower head towards your scalp. You focus your attention on the feeling of Lynn’s fingers scrubbing at your scalp and the sound of her quiet humming to whatever son is playing in the background. It takes everything in your mind to not spiral at the idea of Eren Jaeger as a whole.

‘Hopeless’ you think to yourself. ‘I’m not hopeless.’

Well, there goes trying not to spiral.

Your mind races through every small moment that Eren may have showcased his feelings towards you, and normally you’re able to find a reasonable explanation as to why he’s done and said certain things to you. Today is proving to be more of a challenge to find such explanations because clearly he wouldn’t harbour feelings for you... Right?

“Okay,” Lynn’s smooth voice brings you partially back to reality. “Done.” Holding a towel, you watch her wrap it around your head carefully trying to not get your clothes wet. You stand up, heading back to your chair. The chattering happening between Mikasa and Sasha sounds faint through your roaring thoughts. You feel as if you’re on autopilot as your brain wracks through everything the girls were saying to you. Not before long, the loud noise of a blowdryer being directed to your hair is finally able to grab your attention. You decide to reach down to your pocket, grasping your phone to swipe through social media as your hair gets dried.

Unlocking your phone, you find a handful of texts from your manager that shows no urgency to answer, a couple from your family, two from your assistant Erik, one from Armin, and dozens of others you just forgot to respond to. You click on Armin’s contact.

3:56 AM

Armin A: Be happy you’re not a shifter and have SFX call times, I’ve been here since 3:30

You smile, sending him a late response.

4:59 AM

(Y/N): How’s the makeup coming along? Just in hair and makeup now, meet me in my trailer before filming?

You tap out of the conversation deciding to check Twitter. You scroll through a handful of tweets from your co-stars about the first day of filming. You retweet a post from Eren that’s a picture of him taking a selfie with Armin in the back passed out with his stylist layering on latex to his sleeping face. You chuckle to yourself, catching Lynn’s attention as she holds the dryer over your head. Lynn watches you as you pinch your fingers on the screen, zooming into Eren’s face. “Hopeless.” She mumbles under her breath knowing you can’t hear a single thing over the dryer.

A few more moments pass of you checking your socials when the dryer quiets down, leaving you with soft, dry hair. You click your phone off, moving your gaze up to the mirror. Lynn is walking across the trailer to grab your lookbook for today’s filming, Meanwhile, Rosie is situated next to you carefully painting dirt and small flecks of blood onto Sasha’s skin. You turn your head looking for Mikasa but find no signs of the dark-haired girl. Her call time was much earlier than yours, so you assume she’s probably heading towards set with Eren right about now. You reach your hand down to the large pocket fixated on the right side of your chair, feeling around for today’s script and schedule. Finding it, you flip to the very back where the daily schedule is found, you skim your eyes across it.

5:15 AM- Eren Jeager and Mikasa Ackerman on INDOOR Set #5- WARHAMMER BATTLE CLOSE UP SHOTS

You shift your gaze to the clock situated above the mirror reading 5:27 AM. Well, that answers that. You continue to read the schedule, searching for your first scene of the day.

8:15 AM- Armin Arlert, Hange Zoe, and (Y/N) (L/N) on INDOOR set #9- AIRSHIP SCENES

Flipping back to the start of your script, you find the Airship scene. Before looking over your lines, you watch as Lynn walks back towards your chair, pulling a cart alongside her. The cart is full of every kind of product needed to make you camera-ready and in the role of your character. She turns to the page marked with today’s date, opening it to pictures of your face from different angles of what makeup and hair look is needed for the Airship scene. The lookbook was made last week with you spending lots of time in this chair having Lynn and Rosie paint your face and tug at your hair for hours on end.

Feeling satisfied with her workstation, she pulls the cart a touch closer and begins sectioning off your hair. Your character is one of the few who never has their hair up. Instead, you have a few strands of hair near the front pinned back with a few strands framing your face, almost like a half-updo but not quite, allowing you to be combat-ready with not having your hair flying in too much disarray. Lynn starts to straighten your hair and with that, you decide to review your lines for the day.

Your pupils scan over the scene with Armin talking to Onyankopon and Hange in the Airship shortly after nuking the city. You learn their lines, especially the hidden meaning behind Armin and Hange’s words, contemplating what emotion you want to exude in the next scene. Once Armin exits through the right side of the front half of set #9, that’ll be your cue. After a quick camera and lighting change, you’ll be the centre of the next shot. Patiently waiting, leaning against the wall, this will be your first appearance of the season when it airs. Thinking about it that way, you stop your reading to breathe for a moment.

It’s your last first appearance.

How bittersweet.

With the entirety of this final season there will be a lot of final moments you’ll have to endure and it makes you feel so proud of the show you’ve come to be a huge part of and yet so sombre at the same time. You stare at yourself in the mirror, briefly watching your eyes glimmer in near tears, before continuing with your script.

Armin will leave the control centre of the Airship finding you waiting outside the door. He’ll waste no time in taking you into his arms, taking this moment to break down. He’ll ramble through his moral dilemma, keeping a theme of how Erwin should’ve been picked, and mentioning Bertholdt and how he must’ve felt. He’ll completely come undone within your arms. You’ll do your best to soothe him, petting his head and kissing his hairline. He will place a small peck on your lips before the scene cuts thus continuing the battle within Liberio.

You know with sharing this tender moment the fans will squeal and jump in their seats when it airs. Hell, even at the table reading you did a month ago, most of the cast was holding back cheesy smiles. Since halfway through season two you and Armin were some of the most talked-about characters on all of television and solely because the fans couldn’t get enough of the bashful emotions both of you felt for each other on-screen. Come season three, just before the Shiganshina Arc, Armin grew the courage to kiss you before the battle. You two were trending for forty-eight hours straight. This will be the first time you’re seen as a couple after the time skip, showing the fans just how much you’ve grown together.

“(Y/N),” You’re taken out of the scene you’ve built in your head by Sasha’s voice. You look towards her, finding her completely camera-ready minus her scout costume. Her face looks full of sorrow. With how mournful she looks and her body covered by the battle makeup it almost looks like she’s actually in the world of Attack on Titan for a second. “We’re filming my death scene at noon.”

Your breath is caught in your throat. “Hey,” You feel Lynn’s hand stop moving the straightener through your tresses as you adjust your head so it’s facing Sasha. “You’re not out for the season. You still have so much more to film. Plus, you know they like filming those scenes first instead of waiting last minute.” You reassure her.

Sasha takes a couple of steps towards you, touching her hand lightly to yours that rests on the wooden armrest of your chair. “I know,” She takes a shaky breath. “I just don’t want it to be over.”

“I know,” You turn your hand, giving her a sentimental squeeze. “None of us do.”

You stare into her eyes, the same colour as henna, and she stares deeply into yours. You feel the tingling sensation in your eyes you’ve been fighting off grow stronger, a pressure building in your chest. You’re about to open the floodgates when Lynn rests a soothing hand on your back, her other on Sasha’s shoulder. “You two better not mess up my hard work.” She whispers, trying to break the tension. Sasha laughs, bringing a hand up to fan her eyes. You laugh through a toothy smile, looking over to the redhead. Lynn stares down with a sympathetic look gleaming through her glasses. “Sasha you better head on over to wardrobe for any last-minute fittings. Leave this one to me and Rosie.”Sasha’s head eagerly nods up and down, she practically sprints out the door and heads to the wardrobe department. Rosie pulls her cart in front of you, ready to start on your makeup. You turn your head to face the mirror, Rosie’s focused green eyes the only thing in your line of sight. Lynn picks up the straighter she’d put off to the side, getting situated behind you again. “Okay kid, let’s get you ready for that camera.”

Time passes quickly as the two women transform you into the scouting legion badass you play, not adding any blood or filth since your first scene of the day is when you’re safe inside the airship. Your brain is repeating your lines over and over until you catch a shocking sentence from the small talk Rosie and Lynn are tossing back and forth.

"I saw Levi here already at the training gym, " Lynn tells Rosie as she smooths down your hair with a styling serum. "Good lord, I would climb that man like a tree."

Your eyes widen, Rosie laughing deafeningly by your face. “Lynn!” You shout.

Lynn shrugs, laughing at the shrillness of your voice. “When you get to be my age you give no shits about what you say, sweetie.” She sprays your hair with some hairspray, finishing up. “Especially when I’m just speaking facts.” She checks if the pins are secure before giving you a nod. “Okay, I’m done here.”

“Just a little more setting powder and I’m-” Rosie’s fluffy brush dusts across your nose. “Done.” She moves off to the side, allowing you to look in the mirror at yourself. Your hair is smooth and perfectly done, not yet tainted by battle and your makeup is natural-looking only amplifying your natural features.

You smile at the two women, “Thanks, guys!”

“No problem, kid.” Lynn starts to clean her station. “We’ll see you on set for any touch-ups.”

You wave at them as you grab your tote bag, collecting the protein bar and chapstick that fell out earlier, and stride out of the trailer. The cool air envelops your body once again, making your pace quicken as you head to the backlots full of cast trailers. The sky is now a lighter blue, the sun teasing the skyline. The faint sound of birds flying around the studio creates a peaceful ambiance that makes a sense of calmness spread throughout your body. With your trailer in view, you slow your pace down. Your hands rub up and down your bicep for a moment of warmth, dreaming of the fluffy robe that awaits you. You reach inside your bag searching for your lanyard with your trailer’s key. You dig for a moment when you arrive at the doorstep and pull out a cow print lanyard.

“(Y/N)!” You freeze at the soft call of your name. You turn your head to the left, finding Armin approaching you with a small smile, not even able to make it any bigger due to the latex titan shifter markings on his face.

“Armin! I figured you’d be passed out.”

“Oh, you saw that too?” Armin runs a hand through his golden hair. “Eren’s such a shit. Last I checked there were almost a hundred thousand retweets.”

You giggle, “I'm definitely one of those retweets.” Your smile falters as a shiver up your spine.

“Where’s your jacket?” Armin asks, concern laced in his voice. His selfless reflexes instantly have him tearing his own jacket off his body, draping it around your shoulders for warmth. “Take this, can’t have my leading lady catching a cold.”

You look up to him and smile. There used to be days when you’d tower over Armin, but that’s not the case anymore. “Why thank you kind sir.” You stick your key in the lock, unlocking it. You over dramatically wave your arms at the door as if silently saying ‘After you’. Armin chuckles and enters the trailer ahead of you. “You ready to get destroyed in cards, Armin?”

“You always have such big talk for a girl who wins one out of ten times.” Armin looks back at you as you walk into the warmth of the trailer. “And that’s being generous." Armin tosses his backpack on your coffee table. He sighs knowing he’s unable to turn down your suggestion. Partly because you’re stubborn and won’t take no as an answer, and the other part being that when you’re excited you get a sparkle in your eyes that has Armin ready to do anything to keep them shining at him like that."Okay, one round then let's practice our lines.”

You roll your eyes playfully and shut the door. You puff out your cheeks as you follow closely behind Armin. "Deal."

You're both laughing inside blissfully unaware of the person stalking away from the backlot with a Cheshire grin. This person had taken pictures of Armin giving you his jacket just mere moments ago knowing they will be sold off for a pretty penny, only fuelling the fire of the tabloids further.

After all, as Reiner said, on-screen lovers turned to off-screen lovers are a tabloid’s wet dream.

next chapter: TBD

Hope you enjoyed! Any feedback?

#eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaegar #eren yaeger x reader #eren x you #armin arlert #armin x you #armin x reader #armin arlet x reader #armin arlet x you #aot anime #lct #lct series

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yaemona · 2 years

Text

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ᘛ DRABBLE — FLUORESCENT LIGHTS

featuring kaeya x reader ( college au )

warnings afab!reader ( no set pronouns ), fingering, public sex, kaeya sending mixed signals because he’s never processed a single emotion ever ( he works it out though ), is consent kink a thing because if it is then that, kaeya is a tease but also i am pushing the sweetheart kaeya agenda, praise and pet names ( pretty, sweet thing, what have you )

w.c 4.5k

a.n inspired by the fact my own washing machine broke and i had to go to the laundry mat, where i spent way too many quarters on two loads because i don’t know how to read

minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

you close the door of the machine and it clicks as it locks into place. water fills the washer and sudsy clothes spin round and round; a timer of 25 minutes displays on the digital screen.

“what a pain,” you mutter.

the washer at your flat had broken, and management had yet to fix it. it usually took them a month to do much of anything, so you knew you’d just have to get used to this for the time being as no amount of grumbling would fix the machine at home nor make the sheets and clothes wash themselves.

still, though, it is a pain. a minor inconvenience doesn’t feel so minor when you have homework backlogged and due dates piling up.

you take a seat at one of the counters, checking the time on your phone screen it reads 9:32 PM. you’re not typically one to be out this late, but you’ve found yourself a real catch 22. it being only monday, your classes during the day don’t leave you much time in the daylight, and the laundry desperately needed washing and couldn’t wait to friday. tonight the laundry mat is vacant, aside from you of course, and if you’re being honest the hum of machines and clothes tumbling within them is rather calming.

it’s a perfect contrast to the lecture notes and workload you’ve brought along with you. the work needs to get done and you’ll be waiting for awhile, so may as well spend the time being productive.

out of the washer by 9:55 and out of the dryer by 10:40, and back home before you know it. perhaps the work will make the time pass by quicker.

and indeed it does. 25 minutes pass in a flash and you hear the jingle of the spin cycle finishing, as well as a click signifying the washer door unlocking.

you stand and trudge your way over to the two washers you had occupied, emptying their contents into one of the rolling laundry carts and reloading them into dryers. once again the door clicks shut, and now you’re left with 45 minutes to get as much work done as possible.

except, you’re incredibly exhausted and it was a struggle to keep your eyes open as you looked over your notes. perhaps you could put your head down for just a moment. . .

“y/n?” a voice beckons you from sleep. “ah, so it is you.”

you raise your head from the counter and once your eyes adjust to the fluorescent lights, you’re greeted by deep blue hair and a charming smile. shit. it was one of your flatmate’s friends, but what was his name? you sit there blinking with a clueless look on your face for a moment before he speaks again.

“kaeya,” he chuckles, ah yes that was it.

“sorry,” you laugh it off, “bad enough with names and faces as it is, let alone just waking— shit, what time is it?”

you’re scrambling to illuminate your laptop screen, but his answer is quicker, “ about 10:15. what are you doing sleeping out this late, did rosaria kick you out onto the streets? tsk, that woman.”

“no, no,” you giggle. “our washer is broken, and i was working but. . . suppose i was a bit more exhausted than i thought.”

“ah, i see, i see,” he hums.

in your groggy stupor you hadn’t realized just how close he was until now. he’s standing, elbows resting on the counter, which you have one of yours propped on whilst you support your head with your hand. your knee just barely misses brushing up against his leg. there’s a sudden warmth in your cheeks and leap in your chest. goodness, does he need to be that close?

for the second time tonight, it almost seems as if he reads your mind. he pulls up one of the counter stools and sits a little further away than where he previously stood.

you glance over at the washing machines, noticing one spinning round and round once more. wait. . .

“when did you get here,” you ask, turning your eyes back towards him.

“hmm,” he muses, eyes flickering upwards a moment before back to you, “not too sure, not too long ago. why?”

and there’s the shit eating grin on his face. you didn’t know much about kaeya truthfully, he’d been over to the flat a handful of times to either watch something in the lounge with rosaria, or pick her up before they both headed out. in both of these scenarios, you two shared nothing more than polite greetings in passing, but you’d heard somethings. both from rosaria and other classmates and friends.

rosaria didn’t have anything bad to say, but she didn’t have anything good either.

“he’s. . . a smooth talker, but me being me, i see right through that veil. i will say, he’s quite interesting to have around, but aside from that?” she shrugged, like he was nothing spectacular.

and a sweet talker he was. you could always count on the faint buzzing and murmurs of his name in various conversations on campus. he is a sweetheart, professors and students alike do adore him. now, you began to understand, and you find yourself rolling your eyes. great, another pain.

“whatever,” you mutter and rotate your body to face your laptop and notes, deciding to get back to work instead of entertaining his antics.

“wow, y/n, so cold,” he feigns dejection and clutches a hand to his chest.

you hum in response, and, much to your surprise, he leaves you be. he takes out his phone and the two of you sit in silence until it’s time for you to collect your things and leave. you offer a polite wave and a simple goodnight before heading home for the night, and that’s that.

but, of course, just as you predicted, management as still not fixed the machine a week and a half later.

this time when you enter the laundry mat, there’s a machine already in use, and you glance around to see— oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding. now you’re wishing you hadn’t let rosaria talk you into leaving your work at home, insisting a break was in order.

“good evening,” kaeya lilts, smirk painted on his face. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’d been expecting this.

with a huff and half-hearted, mumbled hello, you make quick work of loading up the washers and, this time, taking a seat on one of the folding tables and lean back on your hands, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. archons be with me, you think to yourself.

“5 minutes ago,” kaeya’s voice is suddenly right beside you, and your body jolts.

“what?” you question breathlessly, heart beating out of your chest from the fright.

“last time you asked me when i got here,” he hoists himself up onto the folding table beside you, his knee brushing yours, “the answer was 5 minutes before i woke you.”

“and before you ask, i didn’t wait to wake you, that’s just how long it took me to load everything into the washer. though, i did wonder if i should just let you sleep, it seems you had quite the heavy workload.”

you groan just thinking about all the work waiting for you at home, and his laughter fills the air. he’s sitting so close that you catch the faint scent of his cologne beyond the typical smell of detergent in the laundry mat. subconsciously your eyes graze over to him. the fluorescent lights and close proximity allow you to see things the typically dim lighting in the dead of night usually wouldn’t. he has a streak of hair in his fringe lighter than the rest, an icy blue you’re not sure is natural or not. perhaps it’s a trick of the lighting, or his hair getting in the way, but his right eye also seems rather lighter than the other.

“my, my, hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s not polite to stare?” he teases.

“i-i wasn’t staring,” yeah, nice save. “okay, i was. i just. . . haven’t ever seen you before?”

“you’ve seen me a few times actually.”

“you know what i mean,” you scoff, rolling your eyes and fixing them on one of the still dryers in front of you.

“so,” he starts, you think you see him lean closer to you out of the corner of your eye, “like what you see?”

“you’re unbelievable,” as you turn to face him, your suspicions are confirmed as his face is mere inches from yours.

“oh? is that so? that fond of me already?”

“in your dreams,” you say, just barely audible.

in truth, and you hate to admit it, kaeya is rather alluring in his own right; there’s something about him that makes your heart beat a bit faster and, at this very moment, something that has you flickering your eyes down to his lips.

the jingle of the washer finishing its spin cycle cuts through the moment, and kaeya hops onto his feet, making you question what the hell just happened. you feel heat flush to your cheeks and a tinge of embarrassment wash over you. kaeya loads up one of the dryers, and you utter a hushed thanks to the archons for that as it gives you time to compose yourself.

but that time and composure is fleeting.

once the door clicks shut and he presses start on the machine, kaeya walks back over to you. instead of hoisting himself back up on the counter, however, he stands between your legs and places his hands on the counter on either side of you.

“now, where were we?” he leans in again, stopping and ghosting his lips over yours. your eyes had already fluttered shut, but when you don’t feel anything you open them and are faced with his periwinkle eyes.

“are you going to kiss me or not, asshole?”

“would you like for me to?” his tone is saccharine.

for archons’ sake.

deciding you’re fed up and your patience growing thinner by the second, you take his face between your hands and crash your lips on his. you can feel him smirk, but you’re beyond caring at this point, because the feeling of his lips on yours is intoxicating. he moves his hands to your hips, and pulls you closer towards him to the edge of the table. your arms are wrapped around his neck as one of your hands tangle in his hair at the base of his neck. he tastes faintly sweet, and you can’t get enough of it. so much so that when he pulls away so you can both catch your breath, you let out a whimper.

“well,” he chuckles, “aren’t you a cute little thing?”

you pull him back in for another kiss, this one much shorter as he pulls away again. just as you’re about to complain, you hear the jingle of your own washers.

you shove his chest lightly and he steps away from you, allowing you to hop off of the tabletop and retrieve your laundry. it takes every ounce of restraint you possess to not frantically load your things into the dryer, but you manage.

once that’s said and done, you stride back over to the table which kaeya is now leaning against and he slips his phone back into his pocket when he sees you approaching.

“so, no homework today?” he asks nonchalantly.

“i— uh, no?” you stammer, not expecting the casual question. “rosaria told me to leave it at home, said a break would be good for me or something.”

he nods, but says nothing. you almost forgot, your heart may have been leaping out of your chest, but things like that must be common practice for him. now you’re fiddling awkwardly with your hands in silence, staring down at the linoleum ground.

after a few minutes of silence aside from a shuffling sound which you assumed was kaeya pulling out his phone again, you turn on your heels and go to sit at the counter you had last time. oh how terribly you just wanted to go home and go to sleep. your homework could wait until tomorrow (no, it couldn’t, but it would have to) because the amount of embarrassment you currently feel is suffocating. you sit there staring blankly at the countertop as countless thoughts rush through your mind. you don’t even regret kissing him, you just wish he wasn’t acting so goddamn callous about it.

you remain like that for awhile before finally pulling out your phone to text rosaria. before you even open your messages, there’s a tapping on the counter beside you. kaeya stands there with a laundry basket of freshly dried clothes on his hip.

“goodnight, y/n,” he lilts once more, just as he did when you walked in.

and then, he walks out. once you believe he’s definitely ought to be out of earshot, you let out the most frustrated mix between a yell and a groan. he’s a smooth talker, a flirt, a tease; you know all this, and yet above all else. . .

he is such a pain.

you abandon the plan to text rosaria and vent, opting to sit and listen to the hum of the two dryers for the remainder of the time before collecting your things and heading home, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep and forget this night ever happened.

a week and a half later, and the washer still isn’t fixed. good news, it’ll be fixed by next week, but that means another trip to the laundry mat.

perhaps it’s the archons watching over you, but a moment too late, as kaeya appears to be leaving just as you arrive. you’d rather not see him at all, but this would do. you don’t even waste time with polite greetings at this point; a bitter taste in your mouth still lingering from last time. you make your way to the washers and mindlessly go through the motions.

when you had told rosaria about the happenstances, she keeled over in laughter.

“oh, haha, sure laugh it up,” you whined. “he’s such an asshole, but i’m also such an idiot for falling for it.”

she took a moment to catch her breath before replying rather winded, “oh, you’re an idiot alright. . .”

with a glance over your shoulder you confirm kaeya is, in fact, gone. with the press of the start button you are free to do as you please for the next 25 minutes. aside from everything else, leaving your work behind last time was rather nice, so you opted for it again. you never spend terribly long here anyway, it hardly makes a difference.

you meander about the space, examining the quarter gacha machines containing stickers and cheap plastic jewelry. you figure why not, inserting a quarter into the latter and turn the handle, and out pops a plastic container with a silver plastic ring with an artificial gemstone which is light blue in hue. you slip it on your finger, and hoist yourself on one of the tables closest to the washers with your belongings. as you’re staring at the plastic ring, you experience a sense of deja vu.

“hm, cute,” a voice sounds from right beside you.

“archons!” you exclaim, clutching your chest. kaeya’s laughter fills your ears, and you grow antsy which makes you annoyed.

“didn’t you leave?” you snap.

“i was going to but,” he drags out the last word, “i thought i’d keep you company.”

“oh, how chivalrous of you, sir kaeya,” you say sarcastically, “and how should i repay this utmost honour of being in your company?”

he inches closer to you, and you try and shimmy away, but that’s a bit difficult whilst sitting on a table versus him on his own two feet.

“now, now, no need to be so cross with me,” he says with the same flirty cadence as always. “i apologize for leaving you unsatisfied last time, there was quite the urgent matter with my roommate, but. . .”

he positions himself between your legs before continuing, “i could most definitely make up for my poor manners.”

goddammit with that silver tongue of his, but you’re not falling for it again, “kaeya, i’m stressed, i’m tired, i don’t need another pain in my ass.”

it sounds harsh, but it’s the truth. you’ve been working yourself to the bone for weeks now, the final stretch before the semester’s end and winter break, finals just around the corner; you’d pulled multiple all-nighters and, despite rosaria’s not-so-gentle suggestions to give it a rest, you’d been worn down.

kaeya’s hands are on your hips, tracing light circles over the fabric of your clothing as he leans in close to your ear, “i know, love. so why don’t you let me take care of you, hm?”

“what are you on about?” you try to sound firm, but the shake in your voice ultimately betrays you. once again your heart is in your throat.

he presses a kiss to your neck, then your jaw, then your cheek before his eyes connect with yours, “let me make you feel good, yeah?”

fuck. the look in his eyes seems so tender and genuine, and you feel yourself melt beneath his touch.

“please,” you whisper.

“please what?” a cheeky bastard and a tease ‘til the very end.

you try to look away but he takes your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him.

“please make me feel good,” you say meekly, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

a smile is plastered on his face as he places his lips on yours, and you desperately attempt to pull him impossibly close, no amount of touch could be enough. more, more, more.

you gasp as your crotch brushes against his, and you repeat the motion grinding your hips again and again causing him to moan against your mouth.

“fuck, if you keep doing that i’m not going to be able to hold myself back,” he chuckles as he pulls away from you slightly. “do you want to do this here?”

the two of you are at the far end of the laundry mat, your back to the doors and window walls. no one else ever seemed to come into the laundry mat this late, and it was only every once and awhile a car would drive by outside. you should be in the clear. . .

“hey,” he holds your face in his hands. “we can wait and—”

“touch me, please,” you mewl.

the usual sly smirk kaeya has on his face wavers for a moment at your words, his eyes going wide. if you were to blink you’d have missed it altogether, because all remnants of him being taken aback quickly vanish without a trace.

“alright then, your wish is my command.”

he attaches his lips to your neck once more, placing gentle kisses as his hands travel up your thighs, and up further still beneath the fabric of your hoodie. his fingertips are cold as ice, a stark contrast to the warmth of his breath as he begins to leave love bites down your neck to your collarbone. gasps and tiny whimpers escape you, and you try to grind up against his crotch again because it’s still not enough, you need more.

“hm? what is it?” he pulls back, periwinkle eyes meeting yours and feigning innocence.

“stop being a tease,” you glare at him.

“you asked me to touch you, right? perhaps you need to be a bit more specific,” he leans in just beside your ear. “tell me exactly what you want me to do, hm?”

for the nth time. . . he is such a pain. something possesses you, perhaps it’s the frustration caused by his antics and your dwindling patience, or maybe it’s the growing desperation, or maybe even still it’s a bit of both; but no matter what it is, something possess you to grab one of his hands and place it against your clothed cunt. a shaky breath falls from your lips at the contact and you grind against his hand.

“here,” you plea, “want you to touch me here.”

there you go again, catching him off guard, but he’s not complaining. you take your hand off his, grinding against his hand and you feel a wetness beginning to pool in your panties. as hot as it is to watch you use his hand to get yourself off, kaeya thinks he’s teased you enough—for now at least, so he takes his hand and slips it beneath your waistband of your pants and underwear.

you moan and your back arches, pressing your chest against his, as his cold fingers rub slow circles on your clit. strings of moans and whispered pants of his name leave your lips, yet still. . .

“more, kaeya. please more, wan’ your fingers— ah! inside me, please.”

“well aren’t you needy,” he tsks. “look at you, begging me to finger you in a place where anyone could walk in at any moment. what would you do, hm? if someone walked in, would you continue to fuck my hand as they watched?”

though he reprimands you, he heeds your wish and gathers the slick from between your folds before sliding a single finger in, pumping it a few times before inserting another.

“so wet already, and i’ve barely even touched you,” he laughs. “don’t tell me the thought of being caught turns you on?”

you shake your head defiantly, but you both know he’s right and he feels your walls clamp around his fingers as he mentions it. he curls his fingers and quickens the pace at which he pumps them in and out of your soaking cunt, the squelching sounds and the sounds which leave your lips being utterly filthy. you feel yourself teeter closer and closer to the edge, and your nails dig into his back as he finds your g-spot. you’re moaning into his ear and it’s taking every ounce of restraint for him to not bend you over the table and ram his cock into you until you’re a fucked out mess.

“tell me, did you touch yourself to the thought of me?” he nips at the lobe of your ear with his teeth. “after kissing me, did you bury your fingers inside your cunt like this and imagine it was me fucking you? i know i did. i fucked my fist and wished it was you clamping down around me, thought you’d look so pretty coming on my cock.”

you cling to him tighter, moans becoming higher pitched as you approach your high, and you try to muffle the sounds by burying your face in the crook of his neck. the truth is, you did. you fucked yourself with hushed pleas of his name falling from your lips, but it was nothing compared to what you were feeling now.

“ah! kaeya, m’close! m’gonna—” just as you’re about to come undone, kaeya abruptly stops, earning a desperate whine from you.

“what’s wrong, pretty?” he coos. you roll your hips against his hand, but it’s no use. “is there something you want!”

you huff and lean your forehead against his shoulder, not saying a word.

“alright, well if that’s the case. . .” he slowly begins retracting his fingers from your hole, but you immediately grip his forearm.

“wanna come! please, please let me come!” your face is burning hot and you pray he doesn’t ask you to look at him. and your prayers are answered as he begins pumping his fingers once more in addition to placing his thumb against your clit.

your orgasm approaches quickly again, and you keep a tight grip on his forearm as his name tumbles from your lips like a mantra.

“go on, love, be good and come for me.”

with one final thrust, you come undone, your body tensing up and walls fluttering as you cream on his fingers. he continues to pump and massage your clit through your high until you whimper from being so sensitive and push his hand away. your chest heaves as you catch your breath, and you completely collapse against him.

kaeya removes his hand from your underwear whilst the other traces small circles on the small of your back. you find the signature smirk on his face when you lean back, still bracing yourself with your hands to his chest, as he licks his fingers clean of your essence. immediately your eyes dart away and he laughs at your cute reaction.

“i think i’ll have to use my tongue next time so i can taste more of you,” he muses and pulls you in for a kiss, and you faintly taste yourself on his lips.

“next time?” you murmur as you pull away. you honestly thought this was going to be a one time thing, and you—albeit begrudgingly—accepted that.

“mhm,” he nuzzles against your neck as he pulls your body closer to his. “you know, i’ve been interested you in quite some time now.”

rosaria’s words echo in your head, “oh, you’re an idiot alright. an oblivious one at that.”

you’re frozen in place, and at your silence kaeya pulls back to look into your eyes. periwinkle eyes shimmer with tenderness and genuine fondness.

“too forward?” the usual lilt in his voice remains, but there’s a tinge of vulnerability with it.

“archons,” you exclaim under your breath before pulling him into yet another kiss.

when your guys’ lips finally part, kaeya shrugs off the jacket he was wearing and drapes it over your lap before planting a chaste kiss to your temple.

“i’ll put your things in the dryer, and then i’ll walk you home when everything’s done, okay?”

you nod, your flat is only across the street and you could honestly make it just fine on your own, but you don’t fancy the thought of kaeya leaving your side just yet. the two of you spend the remainder of the time sitting on the laundry folding table, you leaning against his shoulder as he fiddles with your fingers in a comforting silence. every one and awhile there are little whispers of answers to questions asked, or jokes told that result in spits of laughter. he ended up confessing that, after the first time you two met here, rosaria would tell him whenever you planned to visit the laundry mat telling him to make a move already as she was getting fed up with his constant pining. she was honestly close to just telling you herself and letting you two sort it from there.

as you walk through the door of your flat, kaeya following close behind, rosaria looks up from her phone which she had been scrolling through on the couch.

“oh, thank archons, finally!” she groans, earning a grimace from kaeya but a fit of joyful laughter from you.

kaeya is a bit of a pain, but you think it’s definitely something you can get used to.

#genshin kaeya #kaeya smut #kaeya imagines #kaeya headcanons #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin headcanons #kaeya x reader

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libraford · 4 years

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The short version: We had a serial thief at the flower shop. She’s retired recently and I think that due to Covid she really means it this time.

The long version? hoooo boy, here we go.

This story, and others, are viewable on Tablo

There are rules and there are rules.

In dealing with shoplifting in retail, there are rules on how one engages with a thief. The handbook, if there were one, would consist of a single word.

Don't.

Don't pursue, don't interrogate, don't accuse. Let them take the merchandise, let them get away. Let them return the Cricut machine for an equivalent amount on a gift card to be exchanged once again for drugs.

Let them.

There is no handbook on how to handle Flower Thieves. Prior to working in a flower shop, I never thought that this was a problem.

Life is surprising.

I'm sure some of you have figured that out by now.

The Flower Thief is notorious, and she has a system. There are days when you simply know that she's going to be in.

"Break the heads off the flowers before you throw them away," Grandpa will say. "She's going to be here tonight, I think."

And sure enough, she would be. At 6:45, a quarter til we close- the Thief would announce her arrival. Loudly.

"Heeeeey, baaaaaaby!"

The very first time I encountered the Flower Thief, she came in through the back door.

"Oh Hiiiii, Darlin'- ain't seen your face around here: you must be NEW! I'm Wren, you know- like the bird? Well, Kyle and I have an agreement that I come and work for y'all sometimes. You should take out this trash, it stinks to high heaven. Anyways, nice talkin' to ya, see ya later."

I may only be a little bit psychic, but I've spent enough time around liars to know insincerity when I see it. Kyle, at the time, was the manager of our store and I have it on record that he's tried to throw her out of the building once or twice.

While I was taking out the trash, her pile of purchase became so tall it towered over her. I watched Clark massively undercharge her for the sake of getting her to go away.

She has a pattern.

She comes in during the design classes because she knows that when there's twenty people in the store, there's not enough people to watch her and make sure she's not stealing. "There's a class today," she asks as if it's not literally every Tuesday. "Don't worry I know you all wanna get out of here on time."

The Flower Thief announces her presence in a grand way and then makes her way to the back to grab a trash bag or an empty box and then proceeds to bury any spare parts she finds in the cooler in the trash bag, hiding them under the things that she's actually buying.

After that, she checks the garbage cans for things we might have thrown away that will last another three days and stuffs them underneath her other ill-gotten goods.

Just when you think she's finished, she'll go through her pile of flowers and say: "You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus." And she'll go back into the cooler with it, stuff it in her purse, and walk back to the register.

And when she's all done being sneaky, she asks one of us to come ring her out.

This is the part that no one wants to do. Because ringing out the Flower Thief means haggling with the Flower Thief.

"Oh baaby, you know I don't pay those prices."

"Oh baaaby, I only pay $19 for roses."

"Oh baaaaaaaaaby, those carnations were on special."

She'll talk you down to under $100 with a sob story:

"Oh baaaaby, you know I'm donating this spray to the family. It's for that woman you know- you know the one. She got herself murdered a couple nights ago? Two children and she was pregnant too! Pregnant! Can you believe it? Who murders someone with child? What's the world coming to? So I need a good discount to make sure we treat this family right because they got a looooong road ahead of them."

"Oh baaaaaaby, you know this one's for that car crash over on Cleveland Avenue? I hear he was taking care of his dying father himself, so it's such a shame for him to go first like that."

"Oh baaaaaaaaaaaaaaby, this is for that little boy that shot himself, isn't that sad?"

Thank you, Sister Mary Loquacious.

And you nod because you don't want to come off as an uncaring sociopath. And while you're nodding and adjusting the price for her sad, sad consequence and mulling over how good she is for donating to these people in their time of need, she steals some greens from the trash can and sticks them in her bag.

She hands you crisp $100 bills. You check them and she makes jokes about how she printed them this morning. They're legit. Counterfeiting isn't why she went to prison.

What she went to prison for was drug trafficking.

"Do you need some help," you ask, trying to be a good citizen.

"Oh no, I got it," she insists. "I'll make it in two trips. I'm stronger than I look!"

And don't you dare get caught looking to see what she put in the bag or she will give you one hell of a lecture.

By the time all of this has passed, the class will be over and there will two minutes left in the work day. She's spent thirty-seven minutes in the store. Your register is unbalanced because now you don't have enough small bills to balance it and only have one $100 bill to get you through tomorrow.

And that's why there are rules.

On occasion, a new person will break the rules not knowing that there's rules. One such occasion was when Clair decided to be helpful.

"You know what? I don't need this eucalyptus," Wren said.

"Oh! I'll put it back for you," Clair suggested. And before Wren could protest, it was out of Wren's hands and nowhere near her purse.

It was mentioned to Sage, who only worked for us one summer, that Wren had failed to pay for something and she immediately chased her out into the street.

Wren drives very fast.

If you cross her too many times, she'll make sure you never forget it. One day, she stomped her way in through the front door, angry.

"You ain't treated me better than a damn THIEF," screamed the Flower Thief.

Grandpa, who was helping Blue make a wedding bouquet at the time, departed from the desk. "Beg pardon?"

"A thief! You been treating me like a thief ever since they made you manager and I'm sick of it! I see you bringing in your henchmen, following me in the cooler, chasing me down the street. Treat me with some damn respect."

Words were exchanged. They were not kind. We thought we'd seen the end of her.

But she was back one week later, doing the same damn thing.

So now there are rules.

If you make something and there's an excess of flowers left over from the pack, you have to make something out of the leftovers or she'll pick through them and stuff them in her bag.

If you cannot make something out of them, you must throw them out.

If you throw them out, you must break the heads off first.

The trash cans must be emptied every night before 5:00.

We do not keep trash bags in plain sight.

Break down all empty boxes, or she will use them in place of trash bags.

Do not leave any food or drink where she can find it.

Do not leave any half-used rolls of floral tape where she can find it.

Do not let her know anything about you- lest she use it against you.

If you speak of a Thief, you summon a Thief- speak quietly, and never her name or you invite trouble.

The basic rules one makes when dealing with pests. Or fairy-folk.

There are rules and there are rules and there are rules.

If you want to keep a pest away, you make these sorts of rules. But if you want to get rid of a pest indefinitely, you have to remove their food source. And Wren's food source was her discount.

You start exercising your right to say 'no' to a customer in small ways.

She saw a bunch of carnations in the trash and said:

"Oh baby, these are still good! I'll take them off your hands for you!"

"They've been sitting without water for hours."

"They're still good!"

"They were out in the sun."

"Oh baby, I've been working with flowers for 40 years and I know that these will still be fine for a couple of days!" She picks a bunch of them out of the trash and shoves it in my face. "See, it's still stiff- it's still good!"

"Okay," I said. And before I could stop myself: "Full price."

Her eyes just about popped out of her skull. If it were just a little bit colder, I would have been able to see steam coming out of her ears.

We stared at each other for about a minute, waiting for the other to flinch. She took the bunch away from my face and threw them back into the trash. While she was in the cooler, I took the liberty of snapping the heads off of them and burying them further into the garbage.

And so began a war between the flower shop and the Flower Thief.

She came in: every single night. And each night, she got me.

Again.

"Oh no, baby! These carns are supposed to be 39 cents a stem. I can bring up the email."

"Sure." She brings up the email. "I see that they are 39 cents but... this was for Saturday."

"Yea, and I bought those carns on Saturday and you charged me full price!"

"Saturday."

"Yeah."

"You didn't buy these on Saturday. You bought them Friday."

"Well I didn't know that they'd be on sale, so I need them for that price because I didn't know they'd be on sale."

"The sales are one-day only. I can't adjust a sale from Friday to reflect Saturday's sale... on Sunday."

She made a noise that reminds me somewhat of a cement mixer.

And again.

"I got a bad banner last time, can you print me a new one?" She shows me the banner in question. It's white. The 't' and the 'h' in 'mother' ran together.

"Sure."

"Okay, I need it to say 'Beloved Mother' and I want it in pink."

"Sure."

I print it. I ring her up $5.

"Oh baaaaaaby, no, that one should be free."

"Grandpa said- banners start at $5."

"Oh, but you sold me a bad one last time."

"We haven't sold you a banner in three weeks. How long have y'all had that body sitting in your cooler?"

She grumbled, and paid.

And again.

"I swear you been workin' every night this week! You must be tired," she said, nerves plain in her voice. "When do you get a day off?"

"When the work is done."

"That ain't what I'm askin'. When's your next day off, baby?"

"I stop working when the work is done, Wren."

She narrows her eyes, which is a fun change from them bugging out of her skull like a fruit fly. "You don't ever get any days off?"

"When the work stops, I rest."

And again.

"I'll be in and out, I know y'all want to get out of here on time," she said- announcing her presence to the entire class. She piled her stuff across the register counter and Grandpa began ringing her up.

"Oh baby..."

"No. We're doing away with the discounts."

There are twenty people in the workshop for the class and Grandpa doesn't want to make a scene. She pulls her into the back, and I choose to make my instructions louder to mask the sound of them yelling.

"So you're going to take your hypericum berries and you're going to cut the stem to about ten inches-"

"How can you do this to me?"

"And you're going to slowly fill the vase with these berries to kind of set the shape of the arrangement."

"After all these years and this is how you treat me?"

"Fun fact- you might know hypericum berries as their more common name: St John's Wort! St. John's Wort has been used as a medication for depression prior to modern medicine." You see- I, too, have taken notes from the Chattering Order.

"You can't do this to me," Wren said, stamping her feet like a toddler.

"But I wouldn't recommend eating them. However, they do smell somewhat like baked brown sugar."

Stamp, stamp, stamp.

Wren threw herself into the cooler and began putting a bulk of her flowers back.

"This is robbery," I heard her say to Grandpa at the register.

"Is it now?"

And again.

She came in and immediately reached for a half-empty box of oasis bricks (the green sponge material that we use to hold flowers.) She said few words to me, few at all. She talked to Carrie about how she was going out to the country for awhile, to take care of her nephew's property. She needed to stock up. And oh- don't worry about it, she knows what she's doing. She's part of The Family.

She is in no manner of speaking, a member of The Family that owns this shop. Not even a third cousin.

I saw her beeline for a rose I'd set in the trash. I picked it up, opened my mouth, and bit the head off of it. She stood in the middle of the workshop, absolutely stunned.

Rose petals have the vague texture of arugula, by the way. Slightly sweeter, though. Tough to swallow in one go.

She ran back into the cooler and didn't talk to me.

I began taking down numbers.

27 bricks of oasis. One pack of roses. Ten calla lilies. 1/2 pack of assorted greens.

I punched the numbers in to the register. As if sensing something was amiss, she emerged from the cooler.

"$54? What do I have that's $54?"

"The oasis. They're $2 each."

"Oh no baaaaaby, they're $1."

"I can text Grandpa and ask her."

"... that won't be necessary. Why are you charging me $22.50 for roses? You know my prices by now!"

"22.50 is the price for a pack of roses."

"22.50 is everybody prices."

"Welcome to 'everybody.'"

"I ain't paid a price increase in 7 years!"

"The price of milk went up, Wren. So does everything else."

She was seeing red, I knew it. There's a vein in her forehead that pops out when she's angry and it's the same shape as the river that runs through my home town. She sized me up, as if wondering if she could take me.

I'm 256 pounds of 4H beef, and I have a knife. Try me.

"I'm gonna call Kyle on this."

"Do it." A lifetime of retail has made me immune to 'I'd like to speak to the manager.'

She grumbled and put things back. Carrie offered to watch her, I held up my hand.

"Can you do something for me on these carns? They're the last pack in there and they're lookin' kinda ratty."

"9.50."

"9.50's the regular price."

"Regular price is $14."

"No it ain't."

"Is today. You're taking our last pack and we need those for funerals."

She put them back.

She gave me a credit card. It seemed fake, but it ran. Every time I see here, she's got a different card. Did she print this one this morning, too? At least she stopped trying to sell me on Bitcoin. As you can see, it made her incredibly wealthy.

She gathered her things and left. "Guess I'm getting the rest of my flowers from KROGER!"

There are things you want to say. Like... I hope they enjoy your company just as much as we do. Or: Haven't graced them with your presence in awhile, huh? But at the time, it was better just to watch her leave with her minuscule bunch of flowers. I get a choice in where I loan my voice.

Not here.

Is it over? Nah. She'll be back for another round. But one day she'll finally retire in the way that she's always threatened to. And then? Then it can be as over as it ever will be.

It is shocking to come from a history of retail, where you're not allowed to even hint at the idea of a customer being wrong, where you have to override every single price change to get the scores up, where you have to just let them steal your things and pull the wool over your eyes...

... to flat-out telling someone 'no.'

"No."

It's such a great word.

There are rules and there are rules.

And there are thieves that the rules are made for.

And there are words like 'no.'

And all those things are magic in very human ways.

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lumineskies · 3 years

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Lunch Boxes

Author: @lunachelly

Pairing: Tsukishima kei x Chubby!reader

Summary: Cooking was one of your specialties and gift giving was your love language. Mixing the both of these couldn’t hurt, right?

This post is based on this request! Hope you enjoy this anon <3. Also i changed how they found her so I hope u don’t mind.

Peeking in from behind the one of the windows at the gym, you observed each and one of the boys playing volleyball with passion. Immediately, you eyes caught sight of a particular blonde, Tsukishima kei.

Sweat adorning his face and glasses placed perfectly on the top of his nose, he took it off to wipe away the remnant sweat of his face. Laughter and taunts could be heard from inside the gym but since you were on the other side, you could only hear the voices of the loudest. Tanaka & Nishinoya.

“Do you think we can catch Tsukishima’s secret admirer today?’” Noya said. The both of them have been trying to catch you using every method in the book. Waiting, scaring you, even going as much as too take a day off only to appear at the gym when you were supposed to put the lunch box. Thank god you were feeling a bit sick so you left the box on the steps and immediately left to go home.

“Nah, they’ve been so slick with it lately. Our master plan didn’t even manage to capture them.” Tanaka replied. Master plan? Which one?

"Yeah that's true." Noya solemnly answered.

"20 bucks they're gonna appear today?"

"Make that 40 and we'll catch them"

"Ohhhh, you sure about that?" Tanaka teased the shorter male. "Why? Scared you'll lose to me?" Noya countered.

"Tanaka! Nishinoya! C'mon we're all doing to the canteen to buy drinks! You coming?" Daichi shouted from the other side of the court. This was your chance. Wait for all of them to head to the canteen, set the lunch box on the bench their coach usually sits on, then wait and see if Kei likes it.

Voices could be heard near the gym entrance. You waited until one by one of the boys of them had left. Peeking a glance inside through the window, the darkness of the gym assured you that no one was inside. Your eyes scanned the whole area in front of the gym. No one was coming back, it was safe.

You hurriedly walked towards the gym door. It wasn't locked thankfully, just closed. Hands gripping the handle of the door, you pulled it. The loud squeak the door emmitted made you stop. Eyes wide and heart beating fast, you immediately looked around.

The boys haven't gone that far, you were afraid they would hear the door creak and came back to check. Eyes watching your surrounding intently, you let go of the handle. Ready to flee if necessary.

A minute passed and you sighed. Seemed like no one was coming. You set your hands on the door and pulled. The continues squeaking made you wince. The gap between the door was just big enough for you to slide in. You just needed to place the lunchbox on the bench then you can slip out and leave.

Sitting on the said bench, you opened the lunch box the check the contents. You've been working your ass off to make this strawberry shortcake from scratch and to say that you were proud of it would be an understatement.

From searching recipes online, going around blog to blog to find what was the needed ingredients to experimenting around, you finally found the right recipe. All of the past cakes that didn't make the cut either was eaten by yours truly or given to your neighbours as a gift. No one complained on that.

The cake was sliced into a perfect triangle, with whipped cream and an uncut strawberry on top. To say that the cutlery you prepared were cute would be an understatement. You spent around 20 dollars on the box and forks alone but it was so worth it.

Humming happily, you closed the box and pulled out a sticky note. Writing the words 'For Kei' on the paper, you let it stick on the said box. Adjusting it to make it look a bit more presentable, you were ready to slip out unnoticed when you see a person. Not just any person, it was the said middle blocker.

Since the gym was dark, you weren't certaintly sure it was Kei. But the blonde hair, long legs and glasses made you sure. You're screwed. So goddamn screwed. He's going to find out how you look in a second or so depending on how good his eyesight is. Cmon Y/n! Think! How to get away eithout him seeing you? or well reconizing you.

You racked your brain, the only thought floating around was cover your face and run. So that's what you did. Covering your face awkardly, you tried to walk confidently but faltered when the blonde spoke up.

"Oh? Leaving so soon?" You felt your face heat up as soon you heard that. Kei turned thr lights on, making you wince. Your eyes closed on instinct from the sudden burst of light.

Opening your eyes little by little, what you saw made you drop your gaze to the ground. Tsukishima Kei, the blonde middle blocker, was walking towards you.

When his feet enter your field of vision, you cursed yourself. This was it. He'd find out what you look like and confront you and reject you and throw away the cake and-

But none of those things happened. He walked passed you, as if you didn't exist. You turned your head around only to find him smiling awestruck at the lunch box. Picking it up gently, he opened it to be greeted with the aroma of cake and fresh strawberries. He looked at you, and you turned away.

"Do you like me?"

Did you like him? What kind of question was that. Obviously you liked him. Who in their right mind stays up until 3 am just to find the perfect amount of sugar to make it as sweet as the bakery's down the road?

The sound of footsteps getting closer made you freeze up. Head looking back down, you prayed to god that he would just continue on walking and just leave you alone.

The sounds of footsteps stopped right beside you and his foot enetered your field of view. Your face heat up at the sudden closeness. What you didn't expect was Kei pushing your chin upwards and squishing your chubby cheeks in between his long fingers. You looked up to him confusion and embarassment. What was he doing?

"You didn't answer my question baby, do you like me?" If your cheeks wasn't hot then, it definetely was now. Baby? Did he just call you baby? Eyes boring into yours, he looked at you with a knowing smile on his face.

You nodded slowly as you avoided eyecontact. He let go of your cheeks and began to walk away to the door. You, in confusion, just looked at him walking away.

"Oh yeah, Y/n was it? Keep sending these to me. The others wish they were me." He said as he looked back at you. "And, your cooking taste great, if you wanted feedback." With that, he walked off to who knows where.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq tsukishima #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #tsukishima #tsukishima fluff #chubby #chubby!reader #tsukkishima kei #tsuki #tsukki imagines #anon request #send me anons

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mean-scarlet-deceiver · 2 years

Note

Seeing as how crane steam engines are a thang, and not just somethign made up for the show: harvey head canons?

Ho hum, I wonder who could be on anon asking about Harvey? <3

Sorry for the wait but honestly I had to watch Season 6 a lot and some seasons beyond a little in order to get some ideas churning.

Now thanks to you I really like the lil bug.

First of all, I mostly am going to steal pretty much every detail of Feige’s Harvey HC post. It is all fire and you should all go read it and reblog it.

But the most useful bit, to me, is their notion that Harvey was not actually made circa 1900 but rather a one-off reproduction commissioned circa 1940. I dunno, it just feels right. I look at that face and I see a guy from the 40s.

I also love Feige's account of Harvey's pre-Sodor history. I modify it, however, to Harvey not going directly from Barrow Hemelite Steel Co. to Sodor in 1974. I see him arriving about a decade later, right around the time the TV series is launching. On the other hand I think it’s unlikely that he got another job anywhere else after ’74 so he might have spent a good deal of time just sitting around Hemelite waiting to be leased or bought. I should also mention the Furness Railway Trust might have played a role here in buying Harvey, even if they couldn’t afford or weren’t interested in overhauling him; they saved a diesel shunter from this same steelworks.

My “joke AU” where lots of non-classic episodes didn’t really happen but reflect the engines getting extremely Machiavellian about their own portrayals and pitching the stories to HiT? Well, it’s increasingly not a joke. Anyway “Harvey to the Rescue” didn’t quite go down like that.

It wasn’t the engines who were down on Harvey for “looking different,” it was the railway board. They spent much of the 80s and 90s enjoying the N.W.R.’s impressive new TVS-related revenue streams and getting a real bugabear about controlling their “brand.” They were very big on “branding.” God, the engines came to despise the word “branding” (so did the once-indomitable FC2, who decided to just effin’ retire because he was completely over of some of these big new shareholders within five minutes of their arrival). By 1990, they still hadn’t approved Harvey’s purchase and there were rumors that they were going to “pass” on him altogether. They just didn’t think he fit the “brand” (which mostly meant the RWS engines… and even back in the 80s, long before Gullane or HiT or anyone else, the railway board kind of wished Duck and really wished Toby just didn’t exist. They couldn’t get rid of them, but they considered them deadweight for publicity. They considered BoCo and Bear the same and that’s a whole ‘nother kettle of fish, let me get back on topic).

Anyway, the engines might have done the usual “frank and unflattering commentary when the see someone who looks different” thing, but they didn’t really give Harvey the cold shoulder because of that; that was just the usual light hazing.

Where Harvey did have an ongoing struggle was just… culturally. Industrial engines have a completely different etiquette from railway engines, who can also be casually classist about these differences. Harvey, bless him, did his best to adjust, but he couldn’t learn all the complicated ins and outs overnight and he kept inadvertently giving offense.

Some of the engines were more understanding than others. Guess which were which.

So yeah, Harvey once jumped the rails because he went too fast onto the loop line and tied up three trains, he (gasp) sorted trains in order of arrival instead of order of Importance, his eyes glazed over in boredom in a lot of yard and shed conversations making more references than he could keep up with…

… Add to all this that it’s generally very embarrassing for an engine when they make some mess that needs to be cleaned up; it’s worse still if you have to be bailed out of a jam by the new guy, and then if it’s “that ugly old hook-on-wheels”… oof.

Oh, then poor Harvey gamely tried to participate in the model-exchange method of bonding. He sent Murdoch a model of a Hornby 9F in B.R. black and Henry a wooden railway model of himself. For Christmas. Oh my God. Oh my God you guys. There was so much wrong here that it would take an essay just to unpack, although his biggest misstep was that the custom is supposed to be that you send your own model off to be accepted by the other. Sending someone their own model? What are you, some kind of creep?

(Henry did sort of spout off along that exact vein. In his defense, he’d taken a couple blows to his pride that year, and also he was very sleep-deprived due to some heavy timetables that month. But flippin’ Gordon and James put him in his place (“He didn’t give you his own model because he doesn’t have one, yeh big green plonker! Get a grip!”) Do you know how embarrassing it is to be schooled in empathy by James the Red Engine? Yeah. Henry finally woke up properly and realised that he was being an arse, that time. At the same time, Arthur was having a similar conversation with Murdoch, who realised that if Arthur was telling someone to lighten up about the rules of any particular thing, then maybe he should just grunt ’ah, thank’ee then’ and go back to sleep as the fastest way to restore peace.)

Then there were all Harvey’s many faux pas at washdown. Oh, washdown. Suffice it to say the politics of who cuts in front of whom at a railway washdown are immense. There are probably 28 different unverbalized algorithms by which the order is determined, and you might think that therefore reconciling all the competing factors is an art-form, but it’s not art, it’s a science and there is always only one correct answer. The North Western, if possible, has a pecking order even more labyrinthine than most railways because they’ve been mashing together rules from clashing cultures (different home railways, different B.R. regions, the sea-change that came post-dieselisation) for 70 years before Harvey even arrived. Even Duck can’t articulate why it is that Engine A goes ahead of Engine B but not Engine C, Edward won’t even try, Thomas actually was once the only engine pretty good at laying it all out in great, rambley detail but then again he hasn’t really needed to calculate it since the 60s because he’s tended to at Ffarquhar or he just always gets to jump to the head of the line, only exceptions ever being pending express engines or some sort of Special Special Special Special (that isn’t his own), and the workmen? They've given up trying to have the least say in it generations ago. “Back in the old days” they would have been in charge of maintaining this order, but it’s gotten completely beyond their ability to comprehend, and besides, they just don’t make ‘em as tough and stern as they used to, so now the engines sort it all out themselves. And while it’s possible to catch up engines whose ways were a little different, Harvey was completely lost and nobody could get him up to speed. Several different times, instead of trying, the offended parties just bitched at him. Harvey went through a phase of avoiding washdown completely, which only lead to getting written up.

This was a problem because, as said, by 1990 a significant portion of the railway board seemed to think the best course of action would be to send Harvey away. Him going around grubby and reluctant to pipe up did not help matters.

Finally… Percy Took Charge.

First, with the other engines. One day he just ran out of patience and flipped out on every single engine at Tidmouth, calling them out on what classist twats they actually were, had always been, had been to Percy for the past sixty years, and goddamn it he was not going to let them spend another generation putting down another useful engine just because he didn’t keep his pinkie out when he drank tea, FUCK Y’ALL. (This is paraphrased. I am taking this liberty, however: Percy was so pissed off that he had lost the powers of speech at different points in his rant and so a good bit of it was composed of angry whistling, hissing, clanking, and wheeshing that is incomprehensible to us humans. However, in engine language these sounds are all enormously eloquent.)

The paint fairly blistered off of them, the engines took this dressing-down with surprising mildness, a few even apologized to Percy privately for past slights, and, while of course it was impossible to unprogram themselves overnight, they made a conscious effort to be more considerate. After this, Harvey no longer felt like every day he was rolling into a social minefield.

In addition to Percy’s fury, the railway board’s indifference may have also helped Harvey’s integration into the N.W. family. Because by 1990 it seemed they were seriously considering “passing” on Harvey, even with the Fat Controller and other directors making it crystal clear what sorts of dark or dreary fates would probably await him. And, once the engines were filled in on this, they were most indignant. Even without having been schooled by Percy, they undoubtedly would have been on Harvey’s side. They were not okay with the idea that an engine (ESPECIALLY a steam engine!) could do good work for them for six years only to be sent away into the hostile world again. Sure, in the 1920s that sort of thing happened all the time, but now it was a chancy time to even be a steam engine, and the N.W. engines all knew it.

Besides, no one had “ol’ hook on wheels” ahead of “the foreign shareholders” on their shitlist.

Still, they were rather stumped on what to do. FC3 was already on their side, but there was a powerful faction on the board that he could not be guaranteed to shut down. And the last time they had sent a deputation to their “branding” board members, the board had formally voted to put it down the engines’ forwardness as a mark on FC3’s management.

So… Percy Took Charge, Again.

Knowing he was perfectly safe, he took a spill off the rails right within sight of the station where directors were disembarking for a board meeting, knowing Harvey would be dispatched to the scene.

Harvey was internally freaking out because his role is not supposed to be picking engines off the track and Percy you dumbass you didn’t.

However, Percy is a nice small thing, and Harvey was indeed just able to manage it. This rescue, right in the sight of a good portion of the railway board, did indeed do a great deal to lift Harvey’s reputation among them. This saved him from being “sent away” for some time.

But he wasn’t officially bought by the railway until much later in the decade when, with the issue still unresolved, the Famous Eight (well, actually minus Duck, who had some reservations about the propriety of this thing) put their funnels together and used their fictional personae For The Greater Good.

(They actually did a lot of this in the ‘00s. Long story. Well, many stories.)

Anyway, they found an ally in none other than Britt Allcroft, who agreed to start petitioning for rights to use Harvey in the TVS.

That changed the politics of the situation in a hurry.

In the end, the engines actually wrote most of “Harvey to the Rescue” themselves. It’s moralistic and preachy coz they wanted it to be a morality tale, both for children (they’d already had a good deal of practice in that sort of thing)… and for the railway board (they were sharpening their knives, y’all).

The young cleaners at Tidmouth—all teenagers—were drafted to transcribe their ideas. It wasn’t easy to parse what everyone was calling out and fussing among themselves over, but the cleaners had a ball. (They also teased Thomas greatly when everyone worked out Thomas’s “public-face” lines, reminding him how he would word this sort of thing when there were no kids around who might overhear!)

Percy was absent for the collaborative writing session. And he was pretty hacked off about his portrayal. (I’m afraid the others were pretty amused by their own cheek in the cutscene to Percy just getting shoved around and losing control of his trucks. “As usual… just another bloody Tuesday amirite…”)

Percy was on board for the engines’ rather savage detail that the railway board should be represented by half-a-dozen identical suit’d figurines. This idea was retained by David Mitton’s people with only minor adjustments:

Memetic.

The Sodor Gazette, about the only organ in the universe that had previously been terribly fussed over the camera-avoidant new N.W.R. boardmembers, was delighted. They now run that still as their photo whenever they report on railway developments that the venerable old newspaper is against.

The board was, as a whole, very displeased to be represented in the show, to have been preached to about how Special it is to be Different by the show, and to discover that this episode contained a writer credit for their own engines, whose writing endeavors they immediately banned from the show.

The engines have continued to pitch and draft ideas for TVS, albeit they never again were credited. (Even after the board was brought to heel, the show was no longer held in high enough esteem that the engines were that keen on taking the blame for some of the big-picture executive decisions. Instead any engines involved were simply “railway consultants.”)

However, despite the fury of some members of the board, there were quite a lot who now felt that there was plenty of rather public reason to onboard Harvey properly. So the purchase was at last completed, Harvey given an N.W.R. number, and there was no longer any thought that he would be sent away. Au contraire, he had a very good run of invitations to promo events by Gullane and HiT!

All this drama is now a couple decades old. Albeit it’s been a long and rocky road, Harvey is now quite happily settled on Sodor. He has been transferred to Vicarstown, where his crane comes in very handy when there are mishaps in the loading or unloading of car ferries, and he enjoys the rather undramatic company of engines such as Rosie, Murdoch, Neville, Molly, Sidney, and Whiff, who live there with him, and Arthur, who is often in and out with goods or passengers from Norramby. However, he is often drafted in to help when Tidmouth or any of the other harbors are facing a particularly busy spell, and he is perfectly content to be sent anywhere, for he’s quite one of the family now.

Ignore that CGI episode where Bill and Ben were able to get inside Harvey’s smokebox. It didn’t quite happen that way. They were pretty brash with their teasing during the one time Harvey was sent to cover for the Brendam shunter. Harvey is a pretty passive, easygoing guy, but he put a stop to that by 'accidentally' picking up Ben and swinging him about. (Accidentally! He swears it was accidentally! ... and it's Harvey, so who knows? Maybe it's even true. Maybe.) The trucks and the boats and basically everyone on site still haven’t let the twins live it down.

Also, yes, Harvey was well forkin’ aware that he could pull a damn train by that point. He didn’t need another well-meaning engine to tell him that. By God. Albeit his first venture onto the main line did basically go down the way it does in "Gone Fishing."

#ttte #thomas the tank engine #this is ttte #chatter #ttte harvey #recs #many characters #ttte percy #ttte murdoch #ttte thomas #ttte arthur #ttte emily #ttte molly #ttte bill and ben #ttte bill

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panicatthediaz · 3 years

Note

40 (almost kiss) + 54 (secret relationship)? 🥰

Being in bed at 12:00 am will not stop me, I guess. Bonus Getting Together, I guess. Spent 3 or so hours at this. Ops.

Post S4. This is a disgusting amount of fluff. Unbeta'd (but self proof-read) as I wrote this from 12 am to 3:30 am.

On AO3

Years In The Making

Not that he believed it, but he was sure most people around him would say it was meant to be; something fated somewhere to happen somehow. Eddie didn't really believe that.

What he did believe was that they may have been too afraid (or maybe too repressed, in his case) to see what was going on, what had been growing for a long while. Years, maybe?

But getting shot (again) had given him a good shake, and he could say he'd been almost disappointed to see Ana by his bedside. No fault of her own, of course not, but...

He was pretty sure of what he wanted at that moment.

Breaking things off with her hadn't been that difficult, or painful, a couple of weeks after his return home. Ana's disappointment was clear, but she seemed to know as well as he did that they weren't going anywhere as a couple. With a promise to stay in touch, she walked out of his home one last time.

Now all he had to do was talk to Buck.

Buck had been cagey for the first few days when Eddie had asked him about Taylor. It took about a week and a couple of beers for him to blurt out, "She kissed me then ran out." He fidgeted for a couple of minutes. "Then she came back and we talked through it."

Eddie's heart sank, but he still put on a smile for the sake of his friend (if that was all that he would be for Buck, he'd make do). "And?"

"And we are at very different stages when it comes to romance." Buck shrugged, but the tiny frown was right there between his brows. "She became a good friend, but damn, we wouldn't have lasted as a couple."

Buck finished his beer and turned to Eddie, though not looking beyond the water bottle he was holding in his one good hand.

"She, uh... She isn't quite who I want." Buck cleared his throat, abruptly standing up and walking away from the dining table to place his empty bottle in the recyclable bin. "How is Ana, by the way?"

Eddie accepted the deflection well enough, watching as Buck stood by the doorway with his arms crossed, a stance that tried to project calm. Eddie doubted he was anywhere near it; he never enjoyed talking about failed relationships (including those that never took off).

"We broke up last week," he replied easily, standing up to refill his bottle in the kitchen. "Don't worry," he added, seeing the wide-eyed surprise (and dare he say, hope?) in Buck's expression. "It was pretty amicable and even. We both saw we weren't going to get anywhere and decided to split."

"Okay," Buck whispered, following him into the kitchen. "You okay?"

Eddie nodded, smiling. "Yeah, I'm fine." Though he had to ask... "Who is it?" Buck's confused, scrunched-up expression was pretty damn cute, making him look a little bit more like the Golden Retriever pup Hen and Chimney often compared him to. "You said Taylor isn't who you want, so who is it?"

"Eddie," he said on a groan, though he simply leaned against the counter instead of answering.

"See," Eddie spoke with a new bout of confidence (maybe just as ill-placed as the excitement he was starting to feel), standing against the sink across from Buck. "I'm kind of hoping for a specific answer here."

Buck didn't reply. Eddie had barely even noticed a shift in Buck's expression before he moved into his space, pressing a hard kiss against his lips, a huge contrast to how softly his hands cradled his head and how careful he was to not press against the sling and his injured shoulder.

Eddie wasn't sure if the bottle ended up on the sink or on the floor by their feet. What mattered was that he managed to get his hand on Buck's neck, drawing him even closer.

(Not that Buck let either of them press too close, and god, he loved him.

And he was distantly aware that he should be at least a little freaked out over the thought after one kiss - their first kiss - but, well... Years in the making and all that.)

One kiss became two, became many, and Eddie could see the same feelings reflected in Buck's blue eyes. Belonging, a finally and a home.

There was no need to go beyond kissing and cuddling, both of them content to sit even closer together, hands intertwined whenever they could.

It was... Soft in a way Eddie hadn't had in so long, intimate in ways he thought he wouldn't experience.

And they weren't subtle, weren't actively trying to keep anything a secret. Eddie was still off work, doing his PT as he should and Buck had been staying at his house (their home, he couldn't help but think every time) since Eddie got out of the hospital anyway.

But two months passed and the only two people aware of the change in their relationship were Christopher and Carla because they found them cuddled up on the couch, Eddie knocked out by painkillers and then too out of it to deny anything when his son questioned him about it.

(Christopher had simply nodded with a mumbled "Good" and left it at that. They still had no idea what that was about.)

The sling had come off a few days ago, though he still couldn't do that much, and it was driving Eddie up a wall. Buck was at the station, and he didn't want to think about the conniption he'd have if he drove there.

He knocked on Christopher's bedroom door, opening it slowly to see his son smiling at him from where he sat with his book.

"Hey, buddy." It was impossible not to smile back, feeling the all-encompassing warmth at the fact that he was still here, could see his son growing up for a while longer. "What do you say we pay a visit to the station?"

The frown he got for that was so much like Shannon's that he didn't know what to do with the pang in his chest. There was no guilt, not then, over the fact he missed her. He just did, she should be able to see how much their kid was growing, how much like her he could be sometimes. And maybe she was, if the afterlife turned out to be a thing after all.

"You are not supposed to drive."

And that tone was way too much like Buck's, just this morning, for Eddie to hold back his laughter.

"I was thinking we could take an Uber." He shrugged with his left shoulder. He might have been desperate to get out of the house, but he wasn't stupid; he didn't want pain and he didn't want to end up lectured by the entire team once he got there. "What do you say?"

Christopher considered it for a moment, then placed his bookmark and got up. "Let's go!"

"You better not have come in your car, Eddie!"

He rolled his eyes at the very much expected exclamation as Christopher giggled beside him.

"Don't worry, Buck," the kid said, walking ahead as Buck came downstairs. "I didn't let him drive."

"Thank God for you, kid," Buck said, kneeling on one knee to give Chris a hug. "Your dad is stubborn, he probably would have driven here if it weren't for you."

"Hey!" There was no real annoyance in his protest, but Eddie still said, "I get enough sass from my kid, don't you start, too."

Buck, in such a show of maturity, stuck out his tongue at him before turning to Christopher once again.

"Come on, buddy, let's go see the fun people."

Chris' laughter echoed in the station, and Eddie let the light atmosphere carry him upstairs to the loft where he was greeted by the rest of the team with hugs, and some friendly pats on (thankfully) his uninjured shoulder.

Chimney and Hen immediately walked with Christopher to the pinball machine, and Bobby had given him a plate of leftover breakfast to carry wherever he ended up sitting.

He chose the couch, where Buck had already made himself comfortable again and was currently watching the trio at the machine. They could hear Hen encouraging Chris to beat Chim's high score.

"Hey you," Buck greeted softly, an arm going around his shoulders as Eddie adjusted himself.

"Hey yourself." Buck glanced at the other side of the loft, then pressed a quick peck to his lips. Apparently, everyone was sufficiently distracted. "How are you?"

"So far so good." He took one of the biscuits from Eddie's plate, quickly popping it into his mouth as if Eddie hadn't sat here to share them. "I'd ask how your day is going, but it's obvious you're bored out of your mind."

Eddie groaned, letting his head fall back against Buck's arm. He was beyond bored, at this point, and no amount of movies or video games had helped. Buck's chuckle beside him was another pretty good incentive to get out of the house.

He turned his head to face him, his own expression undoubtedly soft as he took in the man that had been by his side for so long and for so many things already.

Buck's expression softened even more, somehow, his smile bright as the sun and even warmer. He leaned closer and-

And what sounded like a very undignified squeak interrupted their almost-kiss, causing Eddie to huff in mild annoyance and turn around.

Chimney stood by the dining table, gaping at them. Bobby was still in the kitchen and turned to look at them at the sound of Chimney's squeak.

"What's wrong, Chim?" Hen asked, frowning all the way from the pinball machine (where Christopher continued to play).

"They..." He gestured between the two of them. "Since when are you two together?!" He ignored Hen's own surprised exclamation. "They were about to kiss!"

"Yeah," Eddie confirmed, nonchalantly making himself comfortable in Buck's arms in the new position so he could look at the rest of their team. "And you had to ruin the mood."

Buck hid his face in his hair, and Eddie could hear the quiet snickering. They really thought the others would have caught up after two months of visiting Eddie at least once every few days.

"What about Ana?"

"We broke up two months ago, man."

"And Taylor?"

"Dude, we never started dating in the first place." The exasperation was clear in Buck's voice. "She's really just a friend."

Chimney nodded, satisfied for the time being. They had no doubt that there would be more questions later.

"When did this even happen?" Hen asked this time, walking over with Christopher.

"Two months ago," Chris answered before either of them could, smiling a little too innocently. "A week or something after Dad broke up with Miss Flores."

Eddie had no idea Christopher knew that level of details, but he had definitely been out of it when he told him. Maybe he said more than he remembered.

"Well," Bobby finally spoke up, walking over to their little family unit on the couch, now that Christopher was tucked on Eddie's other side. "I'm happy for you two." Eddie could feel whatever tension had been on Buck's body (not that there was much in the first place) drain out of him at Bobby's words. "And we can deal with HR and paperwork once you're back at the station," he added, directed at Eddie. Bobby's smile was genuinely warm, putting him even further at ease.

Years in the making. Maybe it was obvious to everyone else, but Eddie wouldn't change a thing about the road they took to get here. It had been hard and full of hurt, but what they had was solid and them and it was definitely worth it all.

Including the cheering, clapping, and whistles of everyone else when Buck pressed a kiss to his lips right there and then simply because he could.

#9-1-1 #Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #9-1-1 on fox #buddie #my writing #911 #911 on fox #I have no idea how many words this is #it just happened #WeresWriting

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baiyu-universe · 2 years

Text

iFeng Film interviewed Bai Yu by phone. The interview contains spoilers of the drama The Wind Blows from Longxi.

Bai Yu watched Brotherhood of Blades and A Writer's Odyssey before and has a good impression of director Lu Yang. So why is it that Lu Yang had to persuade him into the role? Bai Yu answered laughing: "I just gave him some little pulling and pushing, hahahahaha." For Bai Yu, his first criterion to choose a project is whether the role appeals to him and then the collaborators. "I think the script (of TWBFLX) is fine. I read it carefully several times before I fully understood it. To be honest, I found Xun Xu's character a bit "silly", then Lu Yang talked to me several times and I suddenly realized that Xun Xu is just an ordinary person who sticks to his heart." Eventually, Bai Yu decided that Xun Xu was worth playing.

Not surprisingly, some audiences are unhappy about Xun Xu's actions and consequences. To this, Bai Yu answered jokingly: "Do you think you'd do well in that time? Playing a relatively normal person among a group of schemers is quite interesting. After all, they're all so good and I don't need to be good!"

For Bai Yu, the death of Xun Xu's sister is very influential to his character. He had been thinking about how to act that scene for a long time but didn't find a satisfactory solution. "Because I was beaten, I couldn't move the lower part of my body. I could move my hands but not how I liked it. On the day of filming, I was lying there and I suddenly realized that the pillow was made of wood and I could move my head. So I thought to myself: why don't I try it? Feel it? Then I did it and the result was not bad!" "It hurt a little but not that much."

Did Xun Xu ever suspect Zhuge Liang? Bai Yu considered it for a while: "If there were evidence, he would. But there wasn't. And because his family served the Zhuge Clan and he witnessed his doing since childhood, so he had ultimate trust in him."

About the ending. "For Xun Xu, Chen Gong's choice is surprising but it makes sense. Xun Xu doesn't want Chen Gong to die but he understands Chen Gong that he must do it." Bai Yu admitted that those who live would suffer more than whose who are dead. It's cruel. "I think Xun Xu made compromises. Zhuge Liang told him "people are the most important" and that's what he sticks to. Going to the East Wu is a compromise. He more or less works as a spy and becomes the new White Lord."

The hardest part of the role of Xun Xu is to make believe that such pure person exists in such complicated circumstances. Xun Xu's shyness towards Liu Ying is very natural. According to Bai Yu, to act well in that scene, "you just need to believe in love." Sometimes Bai Yu's own character was shown while acting and Lu Yang had to remind him of it. Bai Yu admitted: "That's right. Sometimes you were too immersed that you got high and became very sensible. That's something I'm learning: to find a balance between sensibility and rationality in my acting."

The parting scene with Chen Kun is one of the most important scenes in this drama. At the time of the interview, it was not aired yet. Bai Yu fooled around: "I did not cry in that scene! I was very cool. Cool till the end!" "It's indeed a very important scene and I have a lot of lines. When Brother Kun and I began to film that scene, we already went through a lot. And we did it well the first time we tried it and we both felt satisfaction in acting." After that, Lu Yang made some adjustments and shot several times. "I can't remember how many times we've filmed (that scene) but both Brother Kun and I kept the emotions, which was miraculous. I never had such experience, being able to keep the emotions for so long."

It was summer when they filmed the drama and the temperature inside often surpassed 40 degrees. The actors had to put on costume-drama clothes that consist 3-4 layers. All the actors have become thinner, especially Bai Yu.

Bai Yu only spent 5-10 minutes in filming the fight scene (training included). "It was so easy. But I didn't feel satisfied as I love martial arts." He'd expected a long training session like Lu Yang did in his previous movies. "I prefer melee combat. What Liao Fan did in the movie Master feels so real and I like it a lot!"

TWBFLX is very influential to his acting. "I didn't realize it at that moment. But when I was filming Take Us Home, I realized that I'd improved and the improvement was evident." It's more of an instinct. When one reaches a momentum of acting, he feels satisfaction that's not related to the outcome. Bai Yu really loves acting as it gives him satisfaction. But he never considers how far he can go. "As long as I am improving it's good. As to how good I can be, it depends on good fortune." As to director Lu Yang's hope to collaborate with him again, he answered firmly: "Director Lu Yang, come to me with a good script! Come!" His excitement could be felt through the phone.

Bai Yu has become good friends with fellow co-workers Song Zu'er, Chen Kun and Bai Yufan and interacts with them quite a lot. The key for Bai Yu is that they're sincere people. "Chen Kun cares for me as an older brother."

Bai Yu believes that it's important to have enough resting time between projects because an actor needs to live life to experiment and feel. But currently he has to force himself to adapt to a full schedule as he can't refuse the roles that he wants to play. "In the future I'll have to force myself to reduce my work time." Reporter: Ni Ni says that she quite enjoys being on set all the time. Bai Yu: "I'll ask her what's that she enjoys and see if I can understand it." Bai Yu likes riding motobike to relax but he said it was not to reduce pressure but because he really likes it. "I choose to sleep when I'm really feeling the pressure."

Recently, Bai Yu has played several tragic roles and it seems that he's attracted to tragedy (Last year he mentioned Manchester By the Sea as one of his favourite movies). "It's a life stage thing. Whether it's tragedy or comedy, if the role touches me, I'll go for it." It seems that honest, innocent and stubborn has become his new image. But Bai Yu said that he wasn't worried about being typcast. A: Do you think you can act well the role of Chen Gong? Bai Yu: "I'm very confident that I can act well, but I don't think I can surpass Brother Kun. Haha!"

#白宇 #bai yu #interview #风起陇西 #the wind blows from longxi

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daisybeewrites · 3 years

Text

July — d.j.

for @dreamcxtcherr ‘s 3k writing challenge. congrats lena!!

word count: 1.8k

warnings: mention of car crash/death, mention of alcohol consumption, daisy cries, i think thats it lmk if not!!

ship: R x daisy johnson

okay y’all… first ever anggstttttt!!! i’m way too excited about it. if you want a fully immersive experience, i recommend listening to july by noah cyrus slowed + reverb

(gif uncredited on pinterest (ugh, i hate that. credit a gif if you use it!! im trying to find the owner)) update — found owner

It was another mission. Another nightmarish fire-fight where you almost lost a limb, almost lost a friend, almost lost your life. Twenty-four hours later and you’re back home, safe.

Well, as safe as you can be when your engagement is on the verge of breaking off.

You stare at the simple ring on your left hand. White gold band, a tiny amethyst set to the left of a diamond. There was a nearly identical one lying next to the sink, the only difference being the switched places of the glittering gems.

You know she didn’t do it purposefully. You had both been exhausted after what was supposed to be an in-and-out mission turned into a hostage situation. Daisy did what she always did as soon as you were home — take off her gauntlets, wash her hands in the sink, grab a snack, and hop into a steaming shower.

But you still can’t stop yourself from staring at it, eyes fixed, hands shaking, breath held and mind racing.

You used to join her. You would wash each other’s hair, ease each other’s sore muscles with delicate touches on tender purple-black bruises. She would lean into you, letting you braid her hair and falling asleep in your arms, drifting into a deep slumber. It was intimate, lovely; it was normal and perfect.

Taking a sip of your room-temperature beer, you slide off the cool granite of the kitchen island. You had a new routine after missions now, you just had to get used to it.

You hear the shower shut off, bare feet pad into your cosy bedroom, and the door shut with a loud creak. The minute squeak of the mattress tells you that Daisy flopped into bed.

A ghost of a smile lights your face. It looks more like a grimace, you think, as you check your distorted reflection in the green glass of your beer bottle. Chucking the empty bottle in the recycling, you run a hand through your dirty, salty hair. The comfy sweats you changed into an hour ago would need to be washed, the dirt still adorning your skin rubbing off on the black material. You exhale before heading down the hall towards the bathroom.

The tiled room is filled with steam, the mirror fogged up so that only a blurry outline of your silhouette could be seen. You are unrecognizable.

How fitting.

The quick, cold shower you take does nothing to ease your mind or body. You wipe the mirror in a circle, taking out a first aid kit.

With all your cuts bandaged and the proper creams Jemma had snuck to you and Daisy applied to your fresh bruises, you headed into the hallway in your towel.

Daisy is standing in the kitchen, lilac lounge shorts you bought her last Christmas showing off her tanned and scarred legs. She looks warm and soft, a very different Daisy than the superhero who had broken a mob boss’ legs just hours before. Her hair is wet and in braids. You frown. You always braid her hair.

If she hears you, she doesn’t turn around, so you take a moment to admire her. Ten seconds, that’s all you give yourself. It was a stressful mission, if you stare too long she might snap. From the back, you can’t see the dark circles you know are there, but you can see the tension in her shoulders and the slight tilt of her head as she ponders what to eat.

You say nothing as you go to the bedroom to change. You find a black pair of SHIELD sweats and an old, holey t-shirt you vaguely remember stealing from Fitz. A presence at the doorway catches your attention.

“Hi,” Daisy says tentatively. Your breath caught in your throat, your lungs holding the air captive until Daisy spoke again.

“I missed you.”

Your eyes widened. Maybe tonight wouldn’t end with one of you on the couch, clutching a six pack while the other cried as quietly as possible, tucked into cold, lonely sheets.

“Braiding my hair, I mean,” She clarified. Her fingers twisted together, rigid posture giving away her nerves.

The air felt humid, as if the open window had suddenly sucked all the AC out and let the mid-summer heat in. Your memory flashes to the last time you and Daisy had a normal, happy conversation.

The edges are fuzzy, but the pure joy in Daisy’s chocolate eyes is clear. Fairy lights strung haphazardly around the living room, a movie playing in the background, your lips on hers. Blankets make a ceiling over your head that shut out the rest of the world, this moment was only for you two. You played with the thin metal band on her ring finger, she ran her hands through her hair. Her matching ring scratched your scalp lightly. You both smile as you pull away. You whisper childhood stories, laugh at the funny parts and offer melancholic smiles at the not-so-lighthearted parts. You were happy.

That night you got the call — Lincoln Campbell, yours and Daisy’s best friend, had wrapped his car around a telephone pole coming off of a long shift at the hospital. His blood alcohol was almost .40.

Eggshells littered the house from the time you got back from the funeral. One wrong word, Daisy would snap and spend hours punching a bag until her fingers bled. You would fill those hours with whatever was closer — wine or your car keys. You pulled yourself out of your head, realizing you should answer her.

“I missed it, too,” You breathed.

Daisy made a small, unintelligible noise before collapsing against the door frame. You froze for only a second, your mind racing through possibilities. Was she bleeding internally? Was it her back again? Did she get shot and not notice until now?

You leap over to her, catching her as she crumbles to the hardwood floor.

A quiet sob wracks her chest. Your hands hover over her slouched back, unsure how to comfort her. At this moment, Daisy feels foreign. Her sudden vulnerability alerts you to how she’s been holding her emotions in for god knows how long.

“Daisy…” You start, hesitantly.

Daisy hiccups loudly, another wave of tears washing over her.

“Tell me to leave, I’ll pack my bags,” Daisy cried, “But I don’t, I-I don’t want to lose you!”

Burning tears gather on your lash line, threatening to fall at her words. You never could stand to see Daisy cry.

Your brows furrow slightly in confusion before you realize what Daisy is talking about. After Lincoln’s death, you two had fought increasingly more often until Daisy locked herself away or spent the night at May’s, and you went for drives until your car ran on empty. On those nights, bottles of wine disappeared from the cabinet without a trace.

Daisy sits up, stamping down her sobs, seemingly resigning herself to the fact that you aren’t going to say anything. Her trembling lip and red eyes pierce your heart. The astronomical distance between you two seems atomic now. You reach out quicker than lightning, shushing her cries and rubbing her back.

“Do you want to go?” You asked after a while. Your knees dig uncomfortably into the floor, your shoulder hurts from the ridges in the doorframe.

Daisy sniffles, her hair falling into her face as she looks away. You crane your neck down, carefully tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You know I’m afraid of change, I guess that’s why we’ve stayed the same,” You sigh, your chest constricting and squeezing the broken glass pieces of your heart.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself to continue, “But if you want to find a new life, someone who loves you better than I do, darling, I understand.”

Daisy is still frozen, stare burning holes in the floor. You’re glad that the two of you are at home, the poly-tectic adaptive materials hidden between the walls keeping the house from collapsing. By the slight groan of the foundation, you can imagine Daisy could bring down a mountain with the amount of pain she’s in.

Which can only mean one thing.

“I’m not enough,” You stated. It wasn’t a question. You glance down, a glint in the low light cast from the lamp on the bedside table catching your eye. She has her ring on…

Daisy finally, finally shakes her head ‘no’. You let go of a breath, guilt building every second that passes. She isn’t happy. You shouldn’t be happy that she’s staying.

“Feels like a lifetime, we’ve been trying to get by while we’re dying inside,” You say, gently.

Daisy snaps her eyes to yours, a desperation in them you recognize as grief.

“So much of the past year has been consumed by grief. We never took time off, we never talked about it. I’ve done a lot of things wrong, loving you being one,” She whispers.

You nod, there is no denying that you each had a part in getting to where you are now. Delicately, you grab her hand. She squeezes it, a rush of small vibrations traveling up your arm. Your chest flutters at the familiar affection.

“So have I,” You assure her. She gradually falls towards you, exhausted. You let her rest her head on your shoulder, her breath evening out as her arms wrap around you. You feel hot tears flow down your face, fall onto her hair. Slowly, you pull Daisy closer to you.

Hours later, the sun peeks over the top of the mountain range in the distance. You had adjusted the two of you sometime around two a.m., no longer able to feel your legs from how the floor cut off your circulation.

Sometime around three, you had gathered the courage to move Daisy to the bed, trying hard not to wake her. She had only turned over and not let go of your hand.

You haven’t slept at all tonight, thoughts spinning until you force yourself to pause and count to ten, only to repeat the pattern.

You know what you have to do. You know what’s best for the both of you. You’ll leave, pack your bags and find a place to stay until you can scrape up enough money to rent an apartment. You’ll go to therapy, learn to live without Lincoln, without Daisy. Eventually, Daisy will heal, too. You both have the team at your backs, no matter what happens. She would be okay.

But you know you won’t. The fear of losing Daisy, of losing your life, your home, yourself stops you. You can’t move on. You can’t move forward.

You know that the big changes it takes to heal could cost you Daisy. So, you stay the same. You give into fear. You’ll never be enough, never love Daisy right, never quite heal fully — and neither will Daisy. But you still stay.

You’ll always stay the same.

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ahhhh how was it? did you love it? any feedback? want more? put any thoughts/feelings/questions/concerns in the comments or my ask box!! i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoyed reading it even more!!

<<3

#daisy johnson x y/n #daisy johnson x reader #marvels aos #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#angst #fic #quake #ashby writes #dousy #lincoln cambell x daisy johnson #lincoln cambell x reader #mcu #bioquake #jemma simmons #gn!reader

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