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httpsserene · 9 days

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Gosh please please please can you write something daniel x reader maybe inspired by too sweet by hozier when he thinks(some internal turmoil cuz he can't stay away from her) she's too sweet/innocent for him or something like but it turns out to be further from the truth?? I love love love your writing, i think about please's and thank you's at least three times a day since i read it. You're so immensely talented!!!

I'd really really appreciate it.

(i don't mind age gap(like up to 10years), some kinky smut or even a bit of morally grey characters as long as there are no explicit mentions of past relationships or cheating and etc., happy ending plss, and I won't mind if you add a pinch of "who did this to you")

Ly ly ly

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐓𝐒𝐀

Summary: She’s too pure for him. She hasn’t been damaged by life like he has and he hopes you never will be. So, that’s why Daniel can never allow himself to be with her. He knows she’s convinced herself that she can fix him, but he knows that the longer he sticks around, the more he’s ruining her. He finds it cynical: their relationship (or lack of a relationship) reads like one of the books she’s obsessed with: right person wrong time or forbidden love. Daniel learns that it might be a little darker of a trope—like one of her books that she never allows him to see a page of. Content Warning: 18+ only. mdni. implied sexual content. mild!yandere!reader. stalking. sabotage. angst with a happy ending. lando and max are here. not edited at all. mentioned alcoholism. pov switch. fights? idk danny gets his ass beat. possessive!reader. can you find the hozier inspo in here? probably. Pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader (black-coded? but not mentioned in the fic, i think) Word Count: 2.7k words.

Author’s Notes: okay! this is past me (6/11) hoping that the tumblr queue doesn’t do me dirty! this should be posted on thursday, because i won’t be able to manually post it on my own as i’ll be hiking in san diego the whole day :p

this was formatted on mobile so please ignore how ugly it looks :( and also ignore the ugly writing i’ve never written dark/morally gray characters so i’m pretty sure i did your request like terribly LMAO. um also i couldn’t find a way to write smut into it? so again i apologize for that :/

anyways, please bare with me. i’ll make it pretty when i get back to my computer…on sunday 🥴

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Daniel meets you in the elevator. At first, he thought you were a Formula One fan who snuck into the condo trying to get a glimpse of your favorite driver (himself, obviously) but, he learned that you’re his new next-door neighbor. It was awkward; he accused you of following him to his room and felt like the world’s worst person when you—dressed in the cutest pink dress and matching flowy bow tied in your hair—stared at him terrified, before you unlocked the door to your flat and slammed the door behind you quickly without a word.

He sent you a bouquet of pink orchids the next morning, along with a hand written card apologizing for his rude behavior and that he hoped the two of you could become good neighbors and friends. It seemed all was fixed, as the next time he ran into you, you greeted him softly, like nothing had happened. It was 5 A.M: you were starting your day and Daniel was ending his night.

Daniel was on his third drunken attempt of shoving his key vaguely in the direction of his lock on the door, when you exited your flat with a yoga mat over your shoulder and a water bottle that was comically large. With a hushed ‘good morning,’ you kindly helped Daniel into his apartment, telling him to drink a big glass of water and have pain killers ready when he wakes up; there was no judgment in your wide brown eyes, only tenderness, and a slight hint of worry. He woke up after twelve at the sound of a knock, his head pulsing with pressure and his sight slightly blurry from not quite sleeping all the drunk away.

He eventually made it to his front door and found that you ordered him lunch: a chicken wrap and sweet potato chips, from one of his favorite brunch cafés—Daniel figured you have good taste, as he doesn’t recall ever telling you about this meal in either of the two interactions you’ve had. So, he ate, drank plenty of water, freshened up, and debated if he should go over and express his gratitude, or whatever. He decided he will, and found himself putting on a nice watch and a few too many sprays of his expensive smelling cologne. Daniel didn’t let any thoughts of why he was prettying himself up cross his mind; he’s simply thanking you; a girl far too young, and probably far too sweet for his tastes.

You brushed off his thanks shyly, hidden behind your door with a blush strong enough Daniel saw it paint your dimpled cheeks and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away. Thinking quick enough to rival his reflexes, he offered to exchange phone numbers so the two of you could meet up and he could buy you a coffee. You entered your name in his phone with a yellow heart next to it.

The coffee meet-up had to wait due to Daniel’s hectic schedule, yet the texting flourished. He initiated the beginning of your text thread the next day, mindlessly texting you about how he overheard Emilio (another neighbor) arguing with his wife on the phone; Daniel said she’s probably going to mail him divorce papers within the next week. You replied that it was mean to eavesdrop and gossip. Daniel followed up saying it’s not eavesdropping if said person was screaming into his phone in the hallway, and he wasn’t gossiping, he’s merely keeping you informed.

Daniel laughed in the middle of his motorhome listening to the voice message you sent four days later, eagerly telling him about how you saw Emilio in the lobby with a couple boxes and without a wedding ring on his finger.

It was a warm morning, when you and Daniel finally managed to meet for coffee. You scrunched your nose in distaste when he ordered plain black coffee; Daniel did the same when you ordered a drink that was mainly milk and sugar. Daniel chuckled when you claimed the amount of coffee in your drink had you wired for the rest of the day. He decided to let you believe that, and not inform you that it was most likely the sugar content that had you crashing hours later.

Daniel invited you over for burgers one night and you comment that his home looks like a mix of a “mojo dojo casa house” and a “minimalistic hell.” You gifted him a throw blanket and a potted plant the next day, and continued to text him reminders about watering it.

Around 10 P.M. on another night, he’s yelling at Max for cheating at fifa. Max laughed around the lip of his beer bottle before the two of them paused at the sound of a knock. Daniel checked the door and opened it to see you: fuzzy slippers, eye-mask on your forehead, bonnet, matching pajama set, and pout on your lips with a sleepy tilt to your eyebrows. He apologized for the noise and promised to quiet down. Daniel threatened to kick the Dutchman out when he teased him for having a “crush.” He doesn’t get crushes, he’s a grown man.

Daniel spends less time in night clubs and more time with you. You took him to sip and paint nights, pottery classes, hiking, even bookstores. You order him to not open any of the books he’s holding for you; Daniel tries to take a peek when you scan through one and you slam the book shut, saying it’s too dark for your liking. He doesn’t comment when you end up getting it (Daniel paid).

He kissed you in your apartment, halfway through Howl’s Moving Castle. He proceeded to tell you it was a mistake. You teared up when he said you were too pure for him, arguing back that you weren’t a child. The tears fell when Daniel claimed he’s too old for you, that he’d only hurt you. He returned to his apartment, figurative tail tucked between his legs, and heard you crying through the wall. He fell asleep hating himself.

Daniel distanced himself from you; he misses your shared adventures and condo gossip, but he never forgets to water your potted plant, even without your texts. He fell back into the clubs, bringing home various women but never manages to get them in bed due to various things going wrong. He gets stuck in the elevator with Stephanie who happened to claustrophobic for hours, locked in the stairwell with Sofia who sprains her ankle in five-inch heels, the fire-alarm interrupts him and Kiana just as he unlocks the door, and his kitchen sink burst when he lifted Laura on the counter.

He tries to console Laura, who runs from his flat in drenched clothes, and sees you staring at her in confusion from your doorway as she rushes past. Daniel apologizes for waking you again, and you shrug, ignoring his words, murmuring that he should call maintenance before he floods the entire floor and shutting your door in his face.

Your potted plant starts to wilt, no matter if Daniel moves it in or out of direct sunlight, if he waters it less or more, or if he changes the soil, or adds fertilizer. The universe has it out for Daniel.

He finds himself in an ultra-private lounge, dim-lighting, sultry piano, and dark decor enhancing his dramatics as he reveals how he ruined his life to Max, Lando, and the bartender who will be tipped handsomely for pretending to care. The piano fades to the end of the piece just as Daniel wraps up his lament.

“It sounds like you deserve it, honestly,” Max stated bluntly, Lando nodding agreeably at his side.

Daniel groans into his hands, lifting his head to say that he’s already aware of that, but freezes when he sees you rise from the seat of the piano. Your figure is snug within a floor length, backless, black dress, complemented with gold jewelry, and makeup that opposes your angelic nature. You bow your head slightly in the direction of the tables clapping at your performance, stumbling briefly when your eyes meet Daniel’s. You smile softly and begin to make your way over to him.

“Oh, fuck,” Daniel shrinks into his seat, as the other two drivers stare at him in confusion.

“Hi, neighbor,” you start airily, before turning to smile at Lando and Max, “Hello.”

“You didn’t tell me you worked here,” Daniel mentions.

“You never asked,” you narrow your eyes at him, before relaxing, “I also don’t work here—this is my brother’s bar. The pianist suddenly fell sick and I offered to fill in.”

“Oh,” Daniel hums, “This doesn’t seem like your type of scene.”

You snort, rolling your eyes, “You should know better than to tell me where, what, or who I do or do not belong with.”

“Okay!” Lando claps, kicking Daniel’s shin under the table, everyone ignores his muffled groan of pain, “Sit with us for a minute, if you can take a break. Danny is seriously obsessed with you.”

You take the offered chair next to Max and sigh, “Really? I couldn’t tell,” all three men wince at your dig, but you continue, “Did he tell you that he almost flooded the entire floor last week?”

Daniel watches as you charm his friends, the three of you chattering happily over his demise, and ignoring him as you do so. He can’t find it in himself to be annoyed, only thankful, as this is the first time in weeks that you’ve been in his presence for more than five minutes. You smell so good. Is that weird of Daniel to think?

Unfortunately, the four of you are interrupted far too soon. Your brother calls you over from behind the bar; his expression is less than pleased, jaw tensed with irritation, and Daniel thinks the look in his eyes has a hint of crazy. He wonders if you told your brother about him. Hopefully not—the man looks like he could fold Daniel like a lawn chair without breaking a sweat. The three men watch as you argue with your brother; it doesn’t seem like it’s going in your favor.

Lando calls Daniel’s name, “Mate—she’s good for you.”

“Nah, mate. I’ll only ruin her.”

“Daniel,” Max scolds, “The few months you were ditching us for her were the happiest I’ve seen you. I wasn’t worried that you would be passed out in a random club or yacht after giving yourself alcohol poisoning.”

“She’s sweet, Danny. I think she’s exactly what you need,” Lando adds, “You've convinced yourself that you don’t deserve anything good. She’s trying to prove you wrong and you need to let her.”

He doesn’t answer verbally, he chooses to shake his head and remain silent. You make your way over to the table again and stand in front of them with a pout.

“It’s past my bedtime, apparently,” you huff, turning your head to glare at your brother, “Don’t worry about paying tonight, it’s on the house.” You exchange polite goodbyes with Lando and Max, Daniel gets a soft smile. He watches you leave the bar with a sad tilt to his lips, then orders a shot of whiskey.

You’re sat on your couch, freshly showered and ready for bed. It’s 1 A.M. and Daniel usually doesn’t end his nights out for another hour. So, it makes sense for you to be worried when you see his location nearing your shared condo building an hour early. Did you sneakily (his phone password is his birthday, it wasn’t that hard) use his phone and share his own location with you? Yes. But, you did it with good intentions. You worry about him when he’s not with you.

You decide to go down to the lobby and pretend to ask if you received any packages in hopes of intercepting Daniel when he walks in. You don’t manage to step out of the elevator when you suddenly have an armful of a bruised-up Australian. His lip is busted and you can see a bruise blooming high on his right cheekbone. You start to shake with anger.

Furiously pressing the button of your floor and slamming the ‘close door’ button, you frantically question Daniel, “What the hell? I left you not even two hours ago, and you look like a mess. Did you get into a fight, did you get mugged, did you—“

“Did your brother beat my ass for hurting you?” Daniel groans, not fighting your motions as you tug him out of the elevator and into your flat, “Yes, he did.”

You pause and grumble angrily, forcing Daniel to take a seat on your couch. You rush into your kitchen for ice, then to the bathroom for a first aid kit. He doesn’t fight when you order him to ice his cheek, and lets you hold his face to tilt his head at every angle possible, as if it’ll expose any more damage. Eventually, you end up looking into his eyes, pretending that you have the knowledge to know what a possible concussion looks like, even though you really just wanted an excuse to look at him.

Unconsciously, your thumb rubs soothingly along his temple, Daniel leans further into your hand. His tongue flicks out for a brief second, and he flinches when it disturbs the cut on his bottom lip. Blinking rapidly, you clear the haze from your eyes and frown as you turn to rifle through the first aid kit.

“I can’t believe he put his hands on you,” you bite out angrily, finding a disinfectant cloth to clean his lip, “I don’t know why I tell him anything anymore.”

Daniel winces at the sting of alcohol, remaining quiet as he watches the focus that covers your expression.

“I apologize for him,” you mumble, “He doesn’t think clearly when it comes to me, he thinks he’s like my guard dog or something,” you dispose of the wipe and grab an ointment, “I promise you I told him that the only thing you did was waste my time and hurt my feelings,” Daniel deflates under your hands, “It’s not like you physically hurt me…or anything. He’s just an idiot. I’ll kill him.”

At that, Daniel laughs quietly, dropping the ice from his cheek so you can clean that too, “Don’t say that. You’re such a sweetheart, you couldn’t hurt your own brother. Also—I’m not sure if he hoped this would make me stay away from you, because if you keep rubbing my face like that, I might fall in love.”

You hum, pleased you have him eating out of the palm of your hand, “Have some decorum, Daniel. You sound desperate. Also, he knows that I don’t like people touching what’s mine.”

“Oh? You’re possessive,” Daniel teases, “Is it bad if I kinda like that?”

Your heart flutters, he’s really the best for you. He doesn’t need to know about the lengths you went to ensure any of the girls he tried to bring home didn't make it into his bed. It's a shame Sofia sprained her ankle; that was not intentional on your part.

You shrug lightly, “No, it’s not bad. I think it makes you perfect for me. As long as you don’t mind a little crazy. And—don’t think you’re off the hook. You still have to apologize for making me cry.”

Daniel nods seriously, “I’ll fall to my knees and beg right now, if that’s what it takes.”

Sticking a plaster over his cheek, you stand and gesture for him to do so too, “Okay. Kneel.”

“Huh,” he chokes, eyes wide with disbelief, “You’re serious?”

“If you beg well enough, I’ll let you eat me out.”

The sound of his knees hitting the floor echoes.

2k special taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @mindless-rock @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35 @riveristhebest1 @iloveyou3000morgan @smartstupyd @spideybv28 @lh383 @hiireadstuff @namgification @gg-trini @whatamidoingwithmylife-random @multi-fandom-rando @dreamingofautopia @megatrilss1885 @nanamilkbread @userlandonorris @starfusionsworld @hangmandruigandmav @itsmiamalfoy @ineedafictionalman @everythingabby101 @valent1na-ferrari @dark-night-sky-99 @svinzlec @angelfreckless @sweatrevenge5436-blog @bokutos-babyowl @oliviah-25

#serene’s chapters.#httpss :// 2k special #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo fic #f1 x black!reader #formula 1 x black!reader #formula 1 x reader #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: dr.

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femme-from-hell · 1 year

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🕷 Miguel O'Hara HCs 🕷

・❥・ So I'm finally hopping on this because I can't deny the feral need to write about this herculean man. These are just random thoughts with some 'x reader' sprinkled. ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ

・❥・ Rating: SFW

・❥・ Warnings: None <3

♡ Something in me tells me this man has an at-home gym. Like, I know there is a training facility at the spider-society HQ but Miguel has eyes sensitive to light exposure and lord knows this man doesn't want to be bombarded with the noises coming from who knows how many spider-people working out. He likes his peace and quiet in his home with the lights dimmed so he can focus.

♡ Bouncing off the above point, when Gabriella was little you bet your sweet bippy she would be around him while he worked out. Like, he would have a little plush kids yoga mat next to his while he did stretches for her, a tiny children's low pullup bar next to his so she can play safely. When she was a baby, he would do push ups with her below him and he would blow raspberries on her stomach to make her laugh every time he would go down. As a toddler, he would have her sit on his back while he did planks or hang onto his leg while he did pull ups.

♡ I feel like Miguel, despite his demeanor can be incredibly funny. Having said that, I feel like he tried to do a one liner once and a thug laughed at him. He beat the living shit out of the guy and never tried again, that's why he 'isn't funny' as Peter B. put it. When he's with his S/O, he'll lean over and whisper something funny of the foulest nature that is just so out of left field for him and NO ONE would believe you if you said it to anyone else.

♡ This man is so prone to pain, which would explain his ass being so grumpy 24/7. Migraines? His sensitive eye sight, heightened hearing, all of it is like pouring gasoline on a fire. Back pain? Carrying around a dump truck like that Crawling around with those claws, swinging that hulking mass of muscle he calls a body, all of it CAN NOT be easy on the back. He picked up Gabriella once and felt pain in his back, sending him spiraling into a break down going like 'I'm not that old, am I?'

♡ He dyes his hair because there is no way in hell he doesn't have grey hairs. Canonically, he's in his late 20s in the comics (Assuming early 30s in ATSV) so he nearly lost his shit the first time he found one. He never really thinks about mentioning it to you but one night you drop by because you just left something behind only to find him with one of those cheap plastic shower caps one with the fresh dye in and his heart nearly stops. He is so embarrassed but you comfort and reassure him with some loving.

♡ I mentioned above that I think Miguel is prone to back pain so if you offer to give him a backrub he will MELT. Absolute putty in your hands. This man just needs to have someone loving rub the tension from him, I stg. Little kisses on the back of his neck while you do it? He would be in fucking heaven. Absolutely would return the favor and with hands like his you know damn well how good it would be.

♡ Seeing all the posts about Miguel being a 'girl dad' is the cutest shit and I know in my soul it's 100% true. He would without a doubt go into work one day with sticky glitter gloss or a few nails painted after failing to get it all off somewhere on him. He let's her braid his hair and will always encourage whatever it is she's doing by getting involved in anyway he can because he just wants his little girl happy.

♡ I can't get the image out of my head of him sitting at a coffee place with Gabriella, justice brand body bag thrown over him with those butterfly clips in his hair while he sips coffee (Gabriella has one of those noncaffeinated sugary ass rainbow drinks at Starbucks, you know the ones) while she babbles on about elementary school drama and he is invested, nodding along. They have the cutest daddy/daughter dates.

I'm pretty happy with this little mess of ideas. I'll probably make a more concrete/ organized post collection of my ideas, like one for Miguel as a dad, some 'x reader', and definitely some NSFW. Lmk what you guys think, I love to hear from everyone or submit a request! ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #head canons #miguel o'hara headcanons #atsv x you #atsv headcanons #fanfiction #sfw #fluff

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hotchlove · 3 months

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New Addition(s) | Reader X Aaron Hotchner

• i take requests! plsss dm me or leave them here if u have anything fun you'd like me to write. it can be angst, any type of trope, smut, etc. • PLZ NOTE: i ONLY do oneshots. they differ from long to short depending on the character and story. i do not write series! • new addition(s) - 885 words • desc.: - dharma & greg but it's you and aaron <3 - fluff!!!

• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • •

you and aaron have been married for a year now. you met on a run in the park. well, he was running and you were teaching an outdoor yoga class cause' the building you usually teach in was under construction. it was like love at first sight, he saw you and immediately asked you out. you like a man with a little confidence, so you agreed. and it was the best first and last date ever. you took him to a baseball game where you listened to organ music, after he defended you against a tall, angry man you accidentally bumped into, you took him to get pie - in las vegas. he argued that there was pie in quantico too, which there was, but you counter-argued that no pie can beat the pie in vegas. after a 5h flight and first bite of the pie, he shut up. you were right - best pie ever. you talked about your future and how much you like him and how much he likes you - he told you all about his life and work. his late ex-wife, his little boy - jack, who you were estatic to meet. he also mentioned how he's a slight bum when it comes to romance, and how he wishes there was a way you could just skip the dating stage and just get married and live happily ever after.

and so you did. you went to a wedding chapel in vegas, which wasn't hard to find, and got eloped. when you mentioned the idea, he thought it crazy. how could he run off and get married after one single date? but he didn't take much convincing. one look at your puppy eyes and he melted. now, if it hasn't been clear already, you and aaron are complete opposites. he's a fbi agent, a profiler, who could kill with his stern expression - and you, you're a yoga teacher with a smile that radiates sunshine and a crave for spontaneous new things and change. your relationship wasn't easy at first, you had to adjust to aaron and his high priority job, and he had to adjust to you. your crazy lifestyle, your beliefs, your spontaneity. he's not really sure he's adjusted to that last one just yet.

he's sitting at home on the couch, cracking open a cold beer as he works through some files he brought home with him. it's already 10:45 pm, meaning jack was put to sleep about 10 minutes ago. i open the apartment door and get greeted by aaron and his lovely smile that just melts my heart every single time. "hey honey, where you been?" he chugs a sip of his beer as i hang my jacket and drop my bag infront of the door. "'kay, listen, you can't get mad at me." i sit down next to him on the couch as he gives me a kind of concerned look, "mad? what happened? are you okay?" i nod, "oh yeah, i'm fine, don't worry about me." "but worry about someone?" he chuckles, "no, i promise i didn't murder anyone just yet." he sighs out of relief, although he's quick to correct me about that last part of my sentence. "do you promise you won't get mad? you have to hear me out aaron, 'kay?" i say and sit with my legs criss cross, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. "i promise. now spit it out, you're making me worried. should i be worried?" "i might have gotten us a dog." i can't tell what his expression means. is he happy? furious? confused? "aaron?" "sorry i think i heard wrong - a dog?" he stares at me and i nod. "why- why did you get a dog, y/n." he drops his head into his palm and laughs, in a good and hopefully not manic way.

"i went to the shelter - just to look!" i smile and bite my lower lip, "and he was sitting there so sad and alone and i couldn't just leave him there, aaron. you know me, i'm better than that." he nods, "of course." his thumb brushes my cheek, "i know honey." he tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. "so you're not mad?" "well i'm not exactly enthusiastic, i would definitely not have minded getting asked about this first before you got one," i gulp and whisper sorries. "but i trust you and your judgement." he hugs me and his hand rubs my back, "plus, jack won't mind having a furry friend around to chase." i giggle at the thought of that, "oh honey, i promise you'll love them."

it's quiet for a second, "honey?" his voice mutters. "yeah?" "them?" i move away from his embrace and bite my lower lip again, trying to surpress my laughter, "okay, i got two dogs." "y/n. please tell me your joking." "they looked so happy together, aaron! they reminded me of us!" i giggle and he sighs, his head dropping once again. "you will be the death of me, woman." "maybe one day, but not today, we've got dogs to take care of now!" we both get up from the couch as our fingers intertwine and i lead him to our bedroom, "oh also, i named them sherlock bones and butterball." "'course you did."

#aaron hotchner #hotch #thomas gibson #fluff #fanfic #fan fic #criminal minds #greg montgomery #dharma montgomery #jack hotchner #cute fanfic #bau

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gyunglitter · 9 months

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➷ 03 ➷

-“oh, the way he makes me feel that love isn’t real -– cupid is so dumb”

unlike you, your brother’s best friend just doesn’t know when to quit

word count: 4,034

warnings: cursing, mentions of running, soobin and reader bickering, a sweaty beomgyu in a tank top, CRINGE lmaooo

tags: brother’s-best-friend!beomgyu x reader, ??? to ???, angst, fluff(??), beomgyu is the cool boy-next-door, reader is an independent girlboss (or trying to be, at least), beomgyu’s gonna be GROVELING, simp!gyu, pathetic pining from both sides lol, maybe some cringe from reader (she was a teenage girl in love, have some empathy plz😭)

notes: this chapter literally didn’t exist lol, but as i was writing chapter 4, i realized it didn't flow well and spawned this. while writing it, i HATED it, but then threw in some crack and suddenly it’s my favorite thing lol. hope y’all get a laugh out of it—if not, i’m officially so unfunny :)

–> masterlist <–

One of the habits you had picked up while away: working out early in the mornings. Whether it was going for a run, doing yoga, or some pilates you would wake up early and start your day with a good bit of sweat before devouring a smoothie and protein bowl.

Of course, you couldn’t quite replicate your routine with how your parents’ blender was broken and the protein in your house was a bit more limited than you had back at your place, but you could make do. Then there was your childhood neighborhood that didn’t have the same layout as your apartment’s neighborhood did; there were many more hills and way less sidewalks. But you figured you had walked these streets for eighteen years with only the occasional complaint, so it shouldn’t be that hard. You could make do.

Or at least you thought you could.

Currently, you were gasping for breath as you finished trekking up the last hill to your house. You’d forgotten just how much worse the monsoon season felt at home than at school. Thankfully, you’d dressed correctly for your morning run: your running shorts, a sports bra, and breezy tank top to help your dying body breathe easier. You just wish your terrain was more forgiving.

You decided to walk the rest of the street back to your house, feeling utterly humbled (and old) as the early morning sun beat down on your back. Sweat glided down your cheeks, making you take the hem of your tank top to wipe it off, before ultimately taking it off and using it as a towel instead. You swung the top across your shoulders and sighed at the discomfort, vowing to stick to your indoor pilates workout routine until the weather mellowed out.

You spent the rest of your walk internally whining about everything you’d done wrong since waking up, going over all of your worst regrets. But it wasn’t until you got to your front lawn, that you actually faced your biggest one. Which, of course, came in the form of Choi Beomgyu.

A gorgeous, sweaty, messy, out of breath Choi Beomgyu.

Feeling your cheeks heat up beyond what would be considered healthy, you gawked at the boy–no, man–who was currently putting together some machine in his own front lawn–the front lawn that your birdbrain had completely forgotten was right next door to your own. Beomgyu had also been dressed for the weather, wearing a loose, white tank top and black shorts with wire headphones as he worked. He looked like he might’ve been up for as long as you had, with sweat running down his forehead and arms, leading down to his dirty hands that you could only assume caused the multiple oil stains smeared on the front of his top. His hair was a delightful mess, but of course on Choi Beomgyu it made him look like a greek god. His face was a bit flushed from working, but you knew it was no match for the red on your face at the moment.

Lucky for you, he was completely focused on whatever the hell he was building.

Feeling hopeful, you discreetly inched towards your porch steps to avoid garnering his attention. You deemed your confrontation with him the night before to be good enough interaction for the next year, and you really did not want a repeat of it now, when you’re half naked and sweaty.

But as life would have it, you still have many regrets to live through today.

“Y/n?” he called.

You nearly shrieked as your body went on autopilot and jumped.

…Into the nearest bush.

“Y/n?!” he yelped, sounding a bit more concerned this time around.

WHY THE FUCK DID I DO THAAAT?

You hit your forehead with your fist as you berated yourself now physically and mentally while you basically hid behind the shrub by your porch. It’s not like you could escape the interaction, the only way to get out would be the way you came, which would only make you look so much weirder since he literally watched you jump, anyway! Now you were naked, sweaty, and had sticks in your hair. You really had to work on your fight or flight response because what the hell.

So much for acting like you moved on–what happened to being unbothered?!

You groaned and took your hair out of its ponytail to at least have something covering your shoulders a bit more. You used your tank top to wipe off additional sweat and dirt before trying to calm down and gather yourself.

“Y/n, are you okay?!” Beomgyu yelled, making you sigh heavily before popping out of your hiding spot.

“What–Beomgyu? Wow, I totally didn’t even see you there,” you coughed, pulling a random stick out of your hair.

Kill me.

You tried to not make eye contact with the boy, but you saw he was gaping at you and your disheveled state.

“W-what hap– a-are you okay?”

“Never better,” you replied. “I just thought there was a squirrel in the bush and-well, uh, you know...”

“I don’t think I do,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

You didn’t either. But you weren’t going to say that.

Instead, you waved his words off and let the space between you fill with silence. Beomgyu took both of his earbuds out and scratched the back of his neck while he tried to string together words. But it seemed neither of you were going to come up with much of anything as he continued to stare at you while you stared at the floor.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, wanting nothing more than to escape whatever the hell this was supposed to be. “See ya.”

You turned to run up your porch and into your house to curl up into a ball, when Beomgyu interrupted you once again.

“Wait, hold on!” he called, making you want to smash your head into the wall.

“We really have to stop doing this,” you groaned.

He let out a chuckle while you turned back towards him. “I know, my bad.”

You folded your arms as he nervously fiddled with the hem of tank top once again. While you tried to keep your self restraint in check, you allowed yourself one more second of drinking in the veins that popped from his forearms, before shaking yourself. “What do you want, Beomgyu?”

He motioned toward the half-finished machine sitting in front of him. “My dad just got this new grill for this weekend, and I’ve been trying to put it together all morning, but I need some help carrying the tank and finishing it up,” he explained.

You grimaced, “I don’t think I can help you out with that, to be honest.” Nor do I want to.

But luckily, he shook his hands frantically, “No, no! I just meant–I mean, I was going to come to your house to ask Soobin for some help, anyway! I just figured it would be kind of weird for me to knock on your door after you just left, you know, so…”

He let the words die awkwardly after rambling for a bit, but he looked to you with red ears and a hopeful look on his face that you got the gist of what he was saying without thinking he was weird or weak, or whatever was making him so anxious.

Not that you felt you were in a place to judge, after he just watched you jump into a bush.

Sighing a little bit, you hesitantly nodded at him and gestured to your house. “Alright, well come in then. I’m sure oppa’s not doing anything important right now, anyway.”

Beomgyu’s eyes slightly widened at the offer, before nodding enthusiastically.

“Oh, perfect! G-great! Thanks, Y/n,” he rambled, which you ignored as he started speed walking over from his spot to follow you into your house.

You opened your door that was almost always unlocked and toed off your shoes easily and slipped into a pair of slippers while Beomgyu tried his best to not touch anything with his grease-stained fingers. Noticing his predicament, you bit the inside of your cheek in slight annoyance as you slid another pair of slippers next to his feet.

“Thank you,” he muttered, slightly embarrassed.

“Just go wash your hands in the bathroom,” you dismissed, immediately walking away from him to go further into the house. “Man, I’m starving.”

“Y/n? Is that you,” your mom’s voice called from the kitchen, making you walk in her direction.

Turning the corner, you’re faced with your mother in her usual pajamas, making herself a pot of coffee. You smiled brightly at her, but she gave you a confused look.

“Where are your clothes, bean?” she asked, making the smile drop off your face.

You heard Beomgyu choke from behind you, making your cheeks heat up ridiculously.

“Hello to you too, eomma,” you grumbled, making your way to the fridge to make yourself a yogurt bowl and fight off your blush. “I just went for a run at the worst time possible.”

Your mom snorted at that. “Why in the world would you want to do that?”

“Because I hate myself,” you grumbled sarcastically, only half joking considering your circumstances.

After taking a bit of time to grab all of the ingredients you needed, you went to sit at the counter by your mother who was making herself a mug.

“Did you want a cup?” she asked you, to which you made a sour face. “Oh, right, I forgot you hated coffee.”

“Which is a crime, by the way,” Beomgyu chimed in, coming into the kitchen as well, drying his hands off on a towel from the counter.

“Beomgyu! When did you get here, dear?” Your mother smiled at the boy who was practically her second son.

He smiled widely back at her, going in for a hug before realizing his shirt was horribly stained and pulling back.

“I came with little Y/n. I just went to wash my hands really quickly,” he explained.

Your mother let out a little laugh, “Speaking of washing, what happened to you? You look like you slept in a garage.”

You smirked at that, while Beomgyu went to explain himself. But before he could, you all heard heavy footsteps thunder down the staircase. It had been a few years, but you could recognize Soobin’s footsteps anywhere.

You were proven right when the steps had rounded the corner, revealing your older brother with his eyes barely opened. Soobin slowly trudged through the kitchen, his body on autopilot as he instinctively opened the right cabinets to get a bowl and cereal. It was only when he opened the fridge and grabbed the milk that you decided to say something.

“Well good morning, sunshine,” you cooed, making Beomgyu snort from behind you.

Like on command, your brother screamed and dropped the milk carton. He whipped around to face you, while you were currently swallowing a spoonful of your yogurt bowl.

“Jesus Christ, I forgot you were here,” he muttered. After rubbing his eyes roughly, he opened them once again to look at you, but quickly shielded his eyes and screamed again. “Where the hell are your clothes?!”

Your mom and Beomgyu laughed while you rolled your eyes and chucked a piece of granola at him. Your brother flinched when it bounced off of his forehead.

“Is my nakedness really that bothersome to all of you,” you grumbled, scooping more yogurt into your mouth.

“Not bothersome,” your mom said as she went to grab another mug for your brother as she could tell he was in need of his own cup of coffee, “Just very shocking to see you in a sports bra considering the most exercise you did in high school was walking to the convenience store for ice creams.”

You absentmindedly grinned at that as you remembered all of your ice cream runs with your brother back in high school.

It seemed Soobin was doing the same thing as he let out a happy sigh. “Ah, good times.”

You nodded in agreement as he picked up the milk carton and made his way to sit next to you to eat his breakfast.

Beomgyu came over as well and took the other seat next to you. “Did you enjoy your beauty sleep?”

Soobin squinted at the boy around you. “I did, actually. You look like you could’ve used it though–”

Your mother lightly swatted the back of your brother’s head, ignoring his cry as she asked, “Did you want a cup, Beomgyu?”

He eagerly nodded at her. “Thanks, Mrs. Choi, that sounds great!”

Beomgyu smirked at Soobin, while he merely pouted back. “Why are you even here, Beomgyu? It’s too early to deal with the sight of your face.”

Beomgyu snorted. “I literally texted you about it yesterday before the dinner; I took apart appa’s old grill and I’m setting up the new one since all the guys are coming in this weekend. I need your help with the tank and stuff.”

Soobin groaned at the idea of doing manual labor, while you turned to your brother with a confused look and asked, “‘Guys’? Who’s coming in?”

“Some of our friends from school are coming down to visit. Yeonjun and Kai are definitely; not sure about Taehyun though,” Soobin sighed. “They’ll be here all weekend and staying with Beomgyu. But for the first night, we’re barbecuing and having a bonfire.”

You recognized all of the names: you’d actually met Yeonjun in person years ago, Soobin having met him in his first semester at school and became friends through Beomgyu. They brought Yeonjun back home with them since he didn’t have any plans for the holidays, so you got to know him a bit. Then there was Taehyun, who you’d only heard every now and then from random stories. But at last, there was Kai, who had been a common name thrown around by Soobin, claiming he adored the guy and would pick having him as a younger sibling over you any day.

Whatever.

It honestly surprised you to hear about Taehyun and Kai since it turned out they graduated high school the same year you had. Soobin told you they had met during a party where all three of them hid in a corner and bonded over their friends ditching them for the night. You’d been pretty interested in the lore behind your brother’s friend group when you were eighteen, until you’d heard the reason Soobin was ditched was because Yeonjun had been dragged into a beer pong game where he got smashed, and Beomgyu wanted to hook up with some random girl–who you would rather listen to your brother singing the Attack on Titan theme song for ten hours, than learn about.

“You should actually come with, Y/n,” Beomgyu piped in, nudging your elbow.

You didn’t turn toward him, instead remaining adamant on facing the other direction toward Soobin as he shook his head.

“Uh, no. Why would I surround my sister with a bunch of men? It’s bad enough you can see her like this,” Soobin wrinkled his nose at you, to which you promptly kicked him in the shin. It didn’t take long for him to kick you back.

“Soob, come on,” Beomgyu scoffed.

You honestly couldn’t tell whether Beomgyu was more offended over Soobin refusing you going, or the fact that him being around you was such a bad thing. And, the more you thought about it, the more you really didn’t want to know.

“What?” Soobin defended. “Men are disgusting!”

Your mother placed a mug in front of Soobin and Beomgyu respectively, before adding in her two cents, “I don’t know if you remember, Soobin-ah, but your sister isn’t thirteen anymore. She’s twenty-one and perfectly capable of deciding for herself if she would like to have men around her or not.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Choi! Spoken like a true feminist,” said Beomgyu, a wide grin on his face.

“Since when did you get so progressive?” Soobin deadpanned.

“Since when did you refer to Taehyun and Hyuka as ‘men’?”

“Touché, touché.”

Beomgyu said, “Our friends are literally the greenest flags to walk in South Korea, if little Y/n will be safe with anyone, it will be them.”

“That is true,” Soobin pondered, but you rolled your eyes at the both of them deciding on your weekend’s fate for you.

“Exactly! I don’t know why you never let Y/n come with us,” Beomgyu complained.

Soobin scoffed. “Why do you care so much?”

Your ears burned when Beomgyu stayed quiet at that, not really knowing what to say. Instead, you turned back towards your yogurt and took another mouthful. “Whatever, it’s fine. I don’t wanna go, anyway.”

“What? Y/n,” Beomgyu whined, but you just ignored him. Again.

Even if Soobin hadn’t refused, you would’ve had to look for a good excuse to not go for multiple reasons. And Beomgyu was not the biggest this time. You honestly planned to rot for at least a couple of days, after all the traveling yesterday and your run this morning. Truly, you’d only gone for a run because it was routine and basically instinct. But you were still jet lagged, not to mention your social battery had run fairly low after your best friend, Yunjin’s, party yesterday, and then your surprise reunions with Beomgyu. The party had been a little tiring, but it was incredibly lightweight compared to being with your brother’s best friend. To say the brunette boy was exhausting would be an understatement for you.

“Seriously? You don’t want to go,” Soobin asked, eyebrows lifted. “You always used to beg to hang out with us.”

You nodded and gestured to yourself. “I’m tired, oppa. Besides, like eomma said, I’m not thirteen anymore!”

Soobin looked at your attire once again and mocked, “You sure about that?”

You kicked the crap out of his shin under the table as he cackled.

“You’re adopted,” you growled, making Soobin laugh even harder at you. “You’re not funny, and you’re not cute. I hope you trip over the sidewalk and that your favorite anime character dies–oh wait, he already did.”

Soobin’s jaw dropped. “You bitch–”

This time, it was Beomgyu who roared with laughter as you stood up and placed your yogurt bowl in the sink. After putting all of the food away, you went to stand next time your mom and cling onto her.

She shook her head at the both of you as she wrapped her arms around you as well. “I have to say, even though I love the peace and quiet, I did miss hearing the creative insults you two would throw at each other.”

You tried to hide your smile at that, while Soobin continued grumbling into his cereal. Another thing you had missed: your brother. Your age gap wasn’t very wide and the both of you had many things in common growing up. Though you’d always been close, the both of you had grown a lot closer while in high school. No one had known you better than he had, and the same vice versa, besides maybe Beomgyu. It had honestly broken his heart when you decided to study abroad and leave for four years, but the two of you stayed in contact with random facetimes and his many visits. You would say you stayed in better contact with him than you had anyone else.

“I know you missed your sister too, Soobin,” your mom cooed, causing your brother’s nose to twitch.

He gave a big sigh, “Whatever. Come, don’t come–your choice whether you want to or not.”

Your eyes widened a bit at the yield. Despite all those embarrassing years of begging to hang out with him and his friends, Soobin was adamant on the both of you not mixing friend groups. You knew all of his friends in high school since you passed each other in the halls everyday, but Soobin remained stubborn that you couldn’t join his friends when they went out. It always confused you since his friends were a bunch of angels, but your mom said Soobin was just too protective when it came to you. This never made sense to you, but your parents would always take his side on it. To see your mom voice her opinion against his and your brother finally giving in was a bit of a shock. Maybe you weren’t the only one who had changed a little over the past four years.

“Come on, Y/n, it’ll be fun,” tried Beomgyu.

He turned in his seat to face you and your mom, giving you those famous puppy eyes you’ve recently started to really dislike.

You turned your head away stubbornly, but your mom wasn’t quite done either.

“You should go, bean,” she said, petting the top of your head. “It’ll be like ‘healing your inner child’, or something.”

Your eyebrows raised as you faced your mother. “Who taught you that phrase?”

“Yunjin-ah. I called to congratulate her on graduating the other week,” she supplied, making you roll your eyes at the mention of your childhood best friend.

Of course she did, you mentally laughed.

“Look, I understand you’re tired, but it’s only Tuesday! The boys don’t come in until this weekend, you have plenty of time to rest,” she continued.

It honestly surprised you how much your mom was pushing you. She typically didn’t push you to do much of anything besides clean up. To see her have an actual opinion on it and pursue it against you made you think for a second.

“What, is IU supposed to be there, or something?”

“Huh?” your mom asked, thoroughly confused.

“I mean, there’s gotta be another reason as to why you want me to go so bad.”

Your mom laughed before pinching your ear lovingly, making you squirm away from her. “Sorry I want you to have fun while you’re at home!”

Shrugging your shoulders, you relented. “Fine, because you guys are so desperate–”

“YES!”

Beomgyu cheered as he suddenly stood up from his seat. He clutched the mug your mom gave him in one hand before using the other to give her a one-armed hug and kissed her on the cheek. Your mother laughed as he sang, “Mrs. Choi, I owe you the world!”

Soobin rolled his eyes so harshly it made you stifle a laugh.

“Stop rizzing up my mother, you loser,” he groaned, before getting up to put his bowl and breakfast away. “Let’s just go finish this stupid grill before I ghost you and leave you to build it yourself.”

Beomgyu’s mood didn’t deflate at your brother’s negativity and instead picked up the other mug as well, to bring with them. “Thanks for the coffee, Mrs. Choi! I’ll make sure to bring it back later!”

“Oppa can bring it back,” you reasoned.

“That’s what I just said,” Beomgyu said, a bit of mischief in his tone.

You deadpanned him, but his grin didn’t shift.

“See you later, little Y/n.” And the bastard sauntered away, carrying both mugs for him and your brother who looked like he was going to need it more than anything to get through the rest of the morning.

“Is it too late to back out?” you asked your mom, the fake smile on your face contradicting your serious tone.

Your mother hummed as she studied the view from the window on the side of your house that showed Beomgyu and Soobin on his front lawn, before moving back towards you.

“I have to say, that is probably the happiest I’ve seen him since you left,” she said softly, making the fake smile melt off of your face. “You don’t actually have to go; like I said, you’re old enough to make your own choices. But I think it’d be really good for you to. And if not for you, at least it would be for him.”

You knew your confusion was evident on your face by the knowing smile that crept onto hers.

“Just give it a shot, bean. Besides, I think you’ll really like Soobin’s friends. They’re the sweetest boys you could ever meet.”

–> next <–

#txt #tomorrow x tomorrow #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagines #choi soobin #choi yeonjun #kang taehyun #huening kai #beomgyu fluff #stupid cupid

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moominofthevalley · 2 months

Text

Sempervirens

If all else fails, write some letters.

emily rose

teen | wc: 1.1k | cw: mentions of grief

a/n: first drabble of 2024. sorry it took so long. hope you enjoy ♡ banner credits from airidescence

It’s been ten years and I still don’t know where to put all this grief.

Uncle Tommy suggested I see a shrink, so I told him to fuck off. I promised him I’d write these stupid letters instead. Journaling, mindfulness, yoga – all that does nothing for me. This shit better work. So…here’s a list of things in my life you never got to see.

I stopped doing soccer right after you passed. I’m sorry.

I know even when you were here I had horrible grades. But I made it. I graduated high school. I got into college, worked my ass off, and somehow became the youngest person in NYC to make the Homicide Division. I hope you’re proud of me.

…But it’s brutal. Captain Thompson is just cruel. Tommy met her at a few holiday parties and I don’t know. There’s no concrete evidence yet, but I know there’s something up with her. And the rest of the NYPD. I’ll move on to something better eventually.

By the way, Tommy misses you too. A few weeks ago, we looked through the attic and found a bunch of old photo albums and VHS tapes. We spent all day looking through them. There was a picture of us sitting on your ‘Smoke Couch.’ The black leather one in our old living room. It still reeks of cigars.

My head hurts writing this. Me and Tommy still have nothing for you. No evidence, no lead. Not any fingerprints. Even the files have nothing. I’m so sorry. There has to be something. You’ve been gone ten years and all that I have left of you are old photos and some beat-up jackets.

You need justice. I need answers.

We miss you so much. I’m going to stop writing before I throw up.

Always surviving, Emily Rose 09/10/18

* * * *

I had a fluffernutter sandwich this morning and thought of you.

Don’t know why I love it so much. I probably have a dozen cavities by now. I’m sorry it’s been a while since my last letter…a lot has passed. Anyway–some life updates as promised.

I quit the NYPD. Are you surprised? I found so much shit - probably enough to fire every cop in my precinct - but HR turned on me. So I left. I spent two weeks moping, just bartending at the Drunk Tank until Tommy made me chat with an old friend of his. Mafalda. I think you knew her too. It’s so much better at the agency. There’s this guy named Luke who does all the computer stuff for us. He’s pretty sick. He lost his mom around the same time I lost you. And there’s a forensic analyst who occasionally works with us, Ruby. I know you were never much of a gossip, but they just started dating. They’re cute together. You’d like them.

Also, I got rid of that stupid leather couch you loved. It was all ripped up and probably had mold in it. And it smelled like absolute shit. Smoke and Horse Creek. Yuck. Uncle Tommy and I spent a whole day looking for a new couch. I landed on this velvet green one with a fancy fringe at the bottom. I can already hear you calling me bougie right now.

They say this in movies, but I didn’t expect life to change so fast. I have a dog now. Twilight. I found her at some deli during an investigation. (Everything’s fine now, don’t worry). She’s adorable. I woke up this morning with her head in my arms, staring at me with her big brown mopey eyes. I love her so much.

You know, it’s annoying funny how people enter your life and stay there. I don’t think I’m complaining this time. His name is Trystan Thorne and you’d love him. Uncle Tommy does, but I think it’s because he buys him fancy donuts every morning. I wish you could meet him. I barged into his penthouse one day and now we’re partners. Isn’t that weird? He’s infuriating, but it’s nice to have him around. Don’t tell him I said that. I told him some stories about you today and it was so nice to talk about you. I know I introduced you to him the last time we saw you.

Finally, some good news. We might have something for you. Big V. I told Tommy and Mafalda about her and they both think there might be a chance she did it. I hate that it’s taken so long to come up with just one possible lead. But I’d do anything to know what happened to you. I hope you know that.

I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you more. I miss you so much. Here’s to fifteen years without you.

Always surviving, Emily Rose 10/08/23

* * * *

It’s only been a few months since my last letter and so much has happened. Trystan was put on trial for a murder he didn’t commit. We had to fly half the team to Drakovia as a hail mary. Ended up playing lawyer for a few minutes. It was weird.

I messed up so many times. Trystan and I fought over something we both knew the answer to. Sebastyan…Fuck. Vasili is dead. Every time I remember that look in his eye, I want to throw up. My head hurts. It’s 3 AM and I can’t sleep.

Trystan is sleeping right beside me. He’ll never admit it, but he drools in his sleep. I love him so much. He always listens to me talk about you. I want to bite him sometimes. I keep imagining all the dinners and talks we could’ve had, just the three of us. You could’ve told him all of your stupid jokes - like the one about eating a clock.

Tomorrow is my twenty-ninth birthday. Tommy told me he had something planned. I bet you ten bucks it’ll be a party at the Drunk Tank. I remember growing up, you guys would spend the entire night decorating the apartment with balloons. I hope Tommy isn’t doing that this year.

You’re here everywhere I go. I was doing laundry earlier and saw one of Tommy’s button-downs that used to be yours. It still smelled like you. I make coffee just like you did - black. I have your small, bulbous nose. I took a train to Montauk and thought of you.

I hate that your life was taken from me. But I will find you at the end of mine. I love you, Dad. Come visit me sometime? Please.

Always living, Emily Rose 3/31/24

* * * * I’ve missed writing. Fun fact, this was originally going to be called ‘someday, anything.’ Glad I didn’t go with that! I wrote this all in a day after I found the most devastating YouTube comment and just had to write something. Also, if you didn’t notice the start of the 2nd letter is a little reference to this fic. Anyway - there’s definitely more writing coming from me soon...Hope you enjoyed this angst xx

Click here for the masterlist of all my works so far! Tags: @choicesficwriterscreations @jerzwriter @logolepzy @stars-are-within-me@shadyinternetblizzard @urcowboyboyfriend @lexicook74-blog @leahtine @jahrobin @calisomnia @kyra75 @icarusfallsforever @inlocusmads @tessa-liam

@dutifullynuttywitch @juudaimes-true-form @plathski @cnvrsecupid @im-the-galactic-starfish (let me know if anyone else would like to be added to my perma tag!)

#crimes of passion #choices #playchoices #trystan x mc #choices crimes of passion #crimes of passion 2 #emily rose #trystan thorne #choices stories you play #grief #choices cop #choices game #losing a parent #crimes of passion choices

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nitewrighter · 9 months

Text

Scoops! (Part 1)

Okay, so this fic is of course mainly taking place in the My Adventures With Superman continuity of Superman, but I also wanted to incorporate some aspects of comics Lois in there as well. It also takes a lot of inspiration from Gene Luen Yang's Batman/Superman: The Archive of Worlds, and I wanted to adapt elements of that comic to My Adventures with Superman. So it's a mish-mash! This is my first time writing for Superman in anything other than a shitpost, so I hope you enjoy!

Read it on AO3 here!

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“Eyes up, Smallville,” Lois was bobbing a little where she stood. She was in yoga tights and a loose cutoff tee that was apparently a souvenir from a monster truck rally called ‘MeTRUCKolis.’ Her wrapped fists were squared up in front of her. Clark loomed before her, his own legs slightly bent, wearing a beat-up white t-shirt and sweats.

Clark adjusted his glasses and took a steadying breath. “Okay,” he said, bringing his arms up.

“Ready?” she asked. He liked that little flash of fierceness in her eyes.

“Mm-hm.”

Bap. Bap. Bap. She had been talking him through proper blocking, and, from what they could observe, Kryptonian nerve endings seemed to follow a lot of the same logic as human ones, and she was always quick to correct his form or stance. Obviously she didn’t have the same hand-to-hand prowess as that skull-helmeted orange and black guy with the swords, but it was still a good opportunity to actually observe the patterns of a proper fighting style rather than be blindsided by a flurry of blows.

Bap.

Watching Lois, blocking her strikes, he could see there was clear logic to her movements: an awareness of space and a conservation of energy that seemed so far beyond him simply because he still had barely a grasp on what he was able to do to begin with. Rolling with the force of the punches was definitely instinctive for him at this point, but he was still trying to parse out how exactly his own invulnerability worked. Frankly, he didn’t really like the current approach of, “Oh, I guess that doesn’t kill me,” but it wasn’t like he was actively trying to lower whatever unconscious mental blocks he had on what probably could be hurting him a lot more if he let it. He could feel the roughness of Lois’s fist wrappings, the warmth of her skin through them, could feel his own flesh yielding, if only slightly, at the impact. He knew she actually packed a significant punch compared to the average person, but she was holding back in her own way. There was the instructive element to it, but caution, as well. After all, how hard would you want to punch someone who not only was your boyfriend, but whom you had also seen make a massive impact crater on concrete?

Bap. Bap.

Lois was a ruddy, flushed mess, but in Clark-vision she was a dewy and glowing warrior goddess, hair sleeked back with her own sweat. They had been at this for the better part of an hour—their training session interrupted only twice by Clark having to rescue several construction workers downtown when an I-Beam’s crane cables snapped loose, and later to fly a little girl and her grandfather to a hospital when the grandfather had a stroke. He had been trying to get better about letting certain things resolve themselves—Metropolis had firefighters, crisis hotlines, and paramedics, after all—but he had also gotten practiced enough with his super-hearing that he had a much stronger grasp on where the location of certain cries for help were coming from—say, if that stroke victim was also in an affordable housing unit.

Bap. Lois’s fist made contact with his left pec.

“Clark, shoulders,” she said for what was definitely more than the tenth time, “And you’re not even trying to evade.”

Clark wasn’t sure how practical evasion was when he was, in fact, significantly wider than her. Her fists were pretty centered on him as a result. He was great at evading while in flight, maybe because momentum was such a strong factor that impact could easily wrest from his control and he didn’t want to make himself into a missile by getting blasted out of the air, but here, in the laundry room basement of Lois’s apartment building, on a mat graciously lent to them by Steve Lombard, in close quarters with a much smaller (but much fiercer) opponent, there wasn’t a lot of space to evade, nor really a strong physical need to. Lois was going in for a hard left hook now.

“I don’t know if this is really working,” said Clark, finally dipping to one side with superhuman speed, sending Lois stumbling forward, but she righted her own momentum and easily pivoted into a back kick.

Careful, Clark instinctively caught her foot before it met his jaw, letting his own hand briefly follow the arc of the kick so she wouldn’t hurt herself with the sudden stop. He stood there, awkwardly holding her by the brightly-colored trainer.

“Okay, now counter,” said Lois.

“Counter?”

“You have my foot. I’m off-balance and vulnerable. Flip me, or something.”

“Lois, I’m not going to flip you.”

“We have a mat!”

“Look,” Clark let her foot go, “I know you mean well with this, but I never really thought of my powers in terms of fighting. I don’t like thinking of my powers in terms of fighting.”

“Well, don’t think about it as fighting, then,” Lois regained her stance and put her hands on her hips, “Think of it as… stopping a fight before it becomes a fight. We both saw that footage, the more you get hit…”

“The more I get hit,” Clark conceded.

“Right, you get discombobulated, and then overwhelmed. And it’s clear even if you can take those hits, that actually taking those hits uses up energy for you. There’s just a lot of surface area like this,” said Lois, splaying her fingers across Clark’s chest.

Clark gulped at the physical contact and Lois caught herself, a drop of sweat hanging on one lick of hair at her temple, and cleared her throat, putting her hands on Clark’s shoulders and guiding them so that he was standing at more of an angle. “You have to give your opponent less of a space to hit. You just keep coming at people fully sheeted forward, it’s no wonder you’re getting shot or laser-blasted in the back all the time.”

“I’d just rather the laser blasts hit me than…”

“Than the other guys shooting at you?”

Clark’s brow went between a furrow and a crinkle and he glanced off. “I mean, they’re less bulletproof.”

“Clark…” Lois started and then a sigh escaped her. It was one of her ‘I worry about you’ sighs but this one was clearly combined with the actual physical exhaustion of punching him for at least 45 minutes. “I’m gonna get some water.”

“Right…” Clark itched at the back of his neck. “How do you know Krav Maga, anyway?”

Lois gave him a kind of sad sidelong glance before taking a long gulp from her steel water bottle and Clark put 2 and 2 together.

“Oh….” he said quietly.

“One of the closest things we got to quality time, me and my dad,” she shrugged, wiping her mouth. A pause passed between the two of them, a silent, mutual acknowledgement that they didn’t have to re-open that can of worms right now. “Honestly I’m out of practice with Krav Maga specifically, though,” Lois added, “These days I just kick box down at Irons Gym twice a week.”

“I’d like to see that,” the words came out of Clark unthinkingly.

A catlike little smile spread on Lois’s lips.

“I uh—I could probably learn a lot more about proper stance and counters and, um, surface area by watching you in action,” Clark added. Were his glasses steaming up?

“Invitation’s open, Smallville,” she said, setting her water bottle down on the washing machine. She rolled her shoulders. “Okay,” she said, clapping her wrapped palms together, “Obviously this wasn’t as productive as I would have liked, but we can finish off by showing you my ultimate move.”

“Ultimate move?” Clark blinked a little helplessly.

“Did you know you like, almost never use your legs in a fight?” Lois was hopping in place a little, bouncing her weight between her feet, loosening herself up.

“Again, I don’t really think of my powers in terms of—”

“Think fast!” Lois rushed him, launched herself into the air, twisted in mid-air, and caught him around the neck in what would have been a brilliant scissor-leg takedown if… it actually took him down. Instead, he just kind of ended up rolling back to a near-limbo position to account for her momentum, then brought himself back upright. To her credit, she did keep furiously twisting and squeezing and trying to use her own center of gravity against him the entire time he was doing this, and Clark really wasn’t sure if it was the flight or the super-strength doing most of the work in making her ultimate move… not work… but once he was standing up straight again, she slackened with a frustrated groan, leaving her basically dangling off of him by one leg yoked over his neck.

“…I see what you were going for, there,” said Clark after a beat.

“It would have worked,” Lois’s voice was half a grunt from her semi-upside-down angle, “If you weren’t… y’know.”

Clark thought, Lois, you can choke me with your legs any day of the week, before blurting out, “No, I’m sure! It’s a great move!” and then quickly scooping an arm under her, “Uh—here, let me—”

Getting Lois back to an upright standing position from her current entanglement was a bit like wrestling a large fish out of water, but he managed to set her down with her looking only somewhat sulky.

“It really was a great move,” Clark tried to reassure her.

“It’s not that,” said Lois, readjusting her sports bra, (which made Clark quickly glance off, face burning), “I just… wish we had a safe environment for you to actually work on this stuff! Actually get a grasp on what you can do and how… there’s still so much we don’t understand.”

“I know,” said Clark, not wanting to say If I wasn’t what I was, we wouldn’t be spending one of our few days off like this. Even when I’m not Superman-ing everywhere, this is still eating up both our lives.

There was a familiar fanfare message chime and Clark, desperate to break that chain of thought, quickly stepped over to his duffel bag and grabbed his phone, reading the text on the screen. “Oh hey, Jimmy’s finally done with his thing.”

“His ‘thing?’”

“He wouldn’t tell me what it was,” said Clark, putting the phone back in the bag, “But he wants us both to come over and check it out.”

“Well, obviously we can’t go over there all sweaty, Smallville,” said Lois, grinning, “Looks like you’ll have to use my—-”

Clark zipped upstairs in a blur and after about 15 seconds zipped right back down, super-scrubbed clean, in a completely different outfit to account for the cold weather, and hair still slightly damp.

“…Shower,” Lois finished flatly.

“There’s still plenty of hot water left,” said Clark.

“Cool, thanks,” said Lois, not even remotely trying to hide her disappointment.

——

A shower, a change of clothes for Lois, and short tram ride later, they were at Jimmy and Clark’s apartment building.

“So, when’s Jimmy going to use his Flamebird bucks to get a penthouse?” asked Lois, as they both got in the elevator.

“You know he hasn’t really talked about the money that much,” Clark shrugged, “I dunno if he’s still trying to figure out what to do with it, or if he’s just letting the fact settle in, or what. Then five days ago he starts working on this thing and he’s just been kind of hyper-focused and really secretive about it since then.”

“Secretive, huh?” Lois brought a hand to her chin thoughtfully as the elevator dinged open, “Think he’s being mind-controlled or something?”

“Oh no, definitely not,” said Clark as they walked down the hall, “He gets exactly like this when he’s editing one of his longer video essays. I remember this one time back in college when—” Clark suddenly paused and tilted his head, squinting slightly, as he often did when his super-hearing was picking up something unusual.

“Clark?” Lois looked up at him.

“Some kind of… fizzing sound…at the docks…” Clark murmured. He stood stock-still in that hallway for about thirty seconds before straightening his head again and shrugging, continuing down the hall. “Well, it’s gone now.”

“Look at you, not flying off in a panic every time you don’t know exactly what something is,” said Lois, proudly.

“Baby steps,” said Clark, smiling.

The door to Jimmy and Clark’s apartment swung open before either of them could knock.

“Hey Ji—” Lois started.

“You’re here,” said Jimmy, breathlessly, “Come in, come on! Come in!”

Both Clark and Lois were hustled into the apartment, which was noticeably messier than usual with multiple boxes and foam packaging and those weird plastic air bags which never pop as satisfactorily as bubble wrap.

“Online shopping…?” asked Lois and Clark shrugged.

“Nothing so simple!” said Jimmy, clearly over-caffeinated and already across the apartment, forcing Lois and Clark to follow him, “I’ve finally been able to realize my vision!”

There was a mania in Jimmy’s voice that made Clark and Lois exchange glances and wonder if the whole experience with Monsieur Mallah and the Brain had rubbed off on him more than anticipated.

“What vision?” asked Clark, but they had already reached his and Jimmy’s room and Jimmy was bent over his desk.

“Lady and Gentleman,” he said deeply and dramatically, slowly pivoting around, “I give you, the one, the only,” he was holding something a little bigger than a shot put ball, covered with a dish towel, “the state-of-the-art, the one-of-a-kind, next generation in Flamebird content creation,” he whipped the dish towel away to reveal a silvery dome embraced by an incomplete disk, “Scoops!”

Clark and Lois stared at the object in Jimmy’s hand blankly. It seemingly stared back with its indifferent camera lens at the front, flanked by two triangular metal plates.

“S-Scoops…” Jimmy said, as if they should both know what he was talking about.

Clark and Lois looked up from the object to Jimmy, still clueless.

“It’s a news drone,” said Jimmy.

“Ohhhh,” Clark and Lois said at the same time.

“So it’s like… a new camera?” said Lois.

“Camera? Camera?!” Jimmy held Scoops close, aghast, “Scoops is voice-commanded with a learning AI, has a whopping six terabytes of still image, text-by-dictation, or video memory, is VPN secured and encrypted with its own personal cloud, equipped with the latest in hover-mag suspension systems, is synced with an app on my phone, and tops out at 45 miles per hour.”

“Do we also have to call it ‘Scoops’—” Clark started.

“Yes, yes, you do,” said Jimmy.

“Wait—” Lois glanced back at the boxes, “Jimmy, you put this together yourself?”

“Well, I saw the hover-mag drone frame at the AmerTek pavilion two years ago at the Metropolis Tech Trade Conference, and the processing is mostly AmazoTech AI hardware that wasn’t approved for mass-market release yet but it turns out with the company collapsing, there were a handful of people willing to look the other way and dig through lab storage for me. The lens components and digital recording are a combination of my own favorite camera companies and a handful of bits I had to 3D print myself. And I had to teach myself to solder,” Clark glanced at his hands, noting several bandages on Jimmy’s fingers and a a moleskin blister pad at his left hand’s heel. “So, I mean the components were all there (except the 3D printed ones), I just put them together.”

“But, why wouldn’t the AI tech be approved for mass market release yet?” said Clark.

“Knowing Ivo, probably branding stuff—glossy AmazoTech user interface kind of things, probably,” Jimmy was turning Scoops over in his hands, buffing away at any smudges on the chassis with his dishtowel, “But it responded just fine to my programming.”

“Can I ask how much did this cost you?” asked Lois

“Money is no object when it comes to solving mysteries and changing the face of news as we know it,” said Jimmy, smiling, which both Lois and Clark interpreted to be ‘A lot.’

“Isn’t AmerTek a weapons company—?” Clark started, adjusting his glasses.

“It’s not all weapons,” Jimmy shrugged, “Plus I figured Scoops needed a pretty hardy chassis with all the crazy stuff we get into.”

Clark and Lois still looked more concerned than convinced.

“All right, fine, I’ll give you a demo,” said Jimmy, clearing his throat, “Scoops, activate.”

The lens at the front of Scoops glowed to life and the two triangular plates flanking the lens hovered off of the drone’s spherical dome. Jimmy gently released the drone and it hovered into the air between the three of them, prompting “oohs” from both Lois and Clark.

“Oh, and Lois, can you stand right there?” said Jimmy, positioning Lois at a slightly more open area of the room.

“Me?”

“Yeah, when you hear the cue, just start acting like you’re doing a news report.”

“Oh! Um, okay,” said Lois.

Clark just kept a wary gaze fixed on the little drone now hovering over their heads. Scoops didn’t seem particularly threatening, but Clark definitely had some concerns about something made with both AmerTek and AmazoTech hardware.

“Great start, Scoops, now begin live feed on… Lois Lane,” said Jimmy, taking out his phone.

Scoops seemed to process this command for a second, then shot out the window in a tinkling explosion of glass.

There was a beat of silence. The three of them looked out the jagged hole in the window, watching as the little drone rapidly shrank into the distance through downtown Metropolis, towards the industrial district.

“It was not supposed to do that,” Jimmy said very quietly. He watched the drone zooming off into the distance for several seconds before he realized Clark and Lois were still watching him. He caught himself. “Small hiccup! Not a problem! I’ll simply recall Scoops using my phone.” He demonstratively hit a button on his phone screen, put one hand on his hip, and waited. A long, silent minute passed.

Clark was squinting out the window. “I.. um.. Jimmy, I don’t think it’s coming back.”

This was when Jimmy’s face finally dropped. “Oh come on!” He was tapping at his phone furiously, “It was doing great in the test runs!”

“Do you know where it’s going—?” Lois started.

“I’ve got both its camera feed and a GPS locator for it on my phone,” said Jimmy, “But Clark, can you—?”

“On it,” said Clark, before zipping out of the room in a blur, leaving a flutter of loose papers in his wake. A few heartbeats later and a blue-clad, red-caped figure was soaring after Scoops. Jimmy’s phone pinged. “GPS feed, let’s go!” He said, hooking his arm in Lois’s and sprinting off out of the apartment.

——-

In theory, Clark knew with enough speed he could easily overtake the drone, snatch it out of its course, and yank it back to his and Jimmy’s place, but it turned out the drone had a significant lead on him because he first got sidetracked first swooping a bike messenger out of the way of a taxi that had run a red light, then giving directions to those tourists, then taking that little old lady’s big box of dead batteries to the e-waste recycling center—okay, in retrospect she could have found a nice neighborhood boy for that last task but come on, he was right there, what was he going to do? Say no? But okay, yes, that did turn into taking the whole apartment building’s dead batteries and Lois would say, ‘Clark look at yourself, you are literally taking people’s garbage, we’ve talked about prioritizing,’ but he was already on the way and proper disposal of batteries was important too, wasn’t it? It reduced fire risk and kept toxins from leeching into the soil, so he was basically preventing future crises in Metropolis. Plus, it wasn’t like Scoops was actually in any danger, it was just… on the run, apparently. Gone rogue. The guilt did hit Clark pretty hard once he got back on task. Poor Jimmy seemed so excited about Scoops, and had obviously been working really hard on it—for all his feelings about AmazoTech, Clark wished he could have been more supportive in the moment. At least the drone’s distinctive hover-mag whir made it pretty easy for him to quickly relocate it, but something was irking at the back of his mind as soon as he got a visual bead on it once again.

The fizzing sound from earlier, he thought, watching the drone, It’s going toward where the fizzing sound was.

The drone suddenly dropped into a sharp descent and Clark shifted his position in the air to drop after it. The Metropolis docks. Scoops was now hovering around, seemingly searching among the massive shipping containers. Clark floated after the drone, feeling a bit of unease at his environment. Shipping containers could easily create close quarters, definitely weren’t fun to be slammed into, even with invulnerability, could clatter over and hurt someone if he hit them with enough force, and provided a lot of coverage for people to hide behind and within that super-senses couldn’t account for 100% of the time.

“Scoops?” Clark felt a little ridiculous calling after it, but it responded to voice commands, didn’t it? “Scoops?” He called again.

He heard a low grunt of pain on the other side of one of the shipping containers and quickly hopped over it to see two shipping yard security guards on the ground, one unconscious, the other groaning in pain. Both had steady heartbeats, but there was a faint smell of electricity in the air, and burnt hair.

“Sir?” He dropped to one knee.

The security guard grunted. “The… the bracelet…” was all he managed before passing out. Clark set his jaw before picking them both up and quickly moving them back to a safer location where hopefully their coworkers would find them, then followed the sound of Scoops’ hover-mag whirring as quietly as he could, realizing there was now a metallic resonant quality to the sound—it was coming from inside one of the shipping containers. The sound of the hover-mag had stilled to one location. He reached the source—a shipping container at the very edge of the pier, the doors were swung open. Clark leaned in to peek inside. There were a couple of crates scattered around the interior of the shipping container, of varying age and make.

Unconsciously, Clark set his feet back on the ground.

There was a woman in the shipping container, her back to him, thin hands clasped around Scoops’s chassis as the drone’s single camera eye stared down at her as if to say, ‘Now what?’ Slung across the woman’s back was a chunky chrome gun that seemed nearly as big as her whole torso, but what really caught Clark’s eye was the gleaming art deco spider bracelet on her wrist. All the guard had said to Clark was ‘the bracelet,’ which made wariness prickle on the back of his neck. Why the guard would mention the bracelet rather than the almost comically huge gun was beyond him. So… she wasn’t friendly, probably. But still, he knew he didn’t understand the situation, and just because someone had a very very big scary gun, and had probably knocked out two security guards, that didn’t mean they were incapable of reasonable discussion.

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask for that drone back,” he said, putting his hands on his hips, before pausing for a second, and adding, “Please.”

She turned to face him and he froze.

She was in a sleek black outfit, with a cropped black jacket, a low-cut, side-slit black dress over charcoal web-patterned leggings, and short boots. Her hair was bleached white and probably medium length, though it was hard to tell, with short blunt bangs at the front and the back swept up into two sleek, asymmetrical victory rolls. She turned around and gave him a too-familiar catlike little smile on too-red lips, the construction of her face utterly unmistakeable.

“Lois…?” The name came out of him dumbly and he immediately realized Superman always called her ‘Ms. Lane,’ always. She had Lois’s fierce pixie features, looked to be a handful of years older, but there was a sense of both sharp awareness and unfathomable exhaustion behind her eyes that filled him with dread. She had seen things—things she could never bring to share with another human being. It was an exhaustion he caught in his own face in the mirror sometimes, when he had been Superman for just a little too long that day, and the awareness that the world was just so much was weighing on him heavier and heavier.

That catlike smile turned pitying. “Very close, Boy Scout,” she said, before, with a shift of her shoulders, she slung that massive gun down to her hip and hauled it up to point at him.

“Okay,” Clark put his hands up, “Ma’am, I think you should know, you’re not the first—”

She blasted him in a blinding ray of neon coral and day-glo yellow, the force of it slamming him into the shipping container behind him, the steel buckling with a protesting shriek at his impact. Clark still wasn’t sure how his invulnerability worked, exactly, but in that moment, when that beam first hit him, full on in the torso (Surface area—again with the surface area), the image of the charred remains of a skeleton flashed to his mind and his train of thought became a throbbing panicked heartbeat of ‘This would kill a human, this would kill a human, this would kill a human.’ He wasn’t sure if it was 3 seconds or an eternity had passed before the beam ceased and he practically peeled off of the side of the shipping container to drop on the ground with a sad thud.

“The BG-80 Toastmaster,” said the woman, stepping toward him slowly, “Courtesy of Earth-Zero. With some modifications.”

Clark struggled to his elbows and knees and coughed, smoke rising off of him.

She tsk-tsked. “Oh you are squishier in this universe, aren’t you?”

“Look,” Clark’s voice was thick, and it took some effort to raise his head and one hand from the ground to try to motion at her in an ‘I mean no harm’ gesture, “I know the League of Lois Lanes doesn’t trust me, but whatever’s happening—”

“You think I’m with the League?” she said with a bitter laugh in her voice. She blasted him again. In the back.

Somewhere in the mind-numbing blaze of pain and the sensation of the concrete crumbling underneath him as he was slammed to the ground, he thought, Huh, that really is a lot of surface area. The second blow at least managed to kick better survival instincts into gear. This isn’t your Lois, he had to tell himself, She is very much an active threat. She wants to hurt you. She has hurt you, she is hurting you, so you have to get over the face and the voice and the everything else and act so she doesn’t hurt you or someone else again. The gun—just heat vision it—just concentrate, you’re close enough and it’s big enough that you don’t have to worry too much about hitting her—no, wait—what if it explodes? You don’t know what it’s made of—

There was a series of clicks and Clark looked up at her, willing the heat behind his eyes, but the muzzle of the gun was glowing red now and again, he got caught up in that exhaustion, that pity, in her face. She wasn’t with the League of Lois Lanes? Then what did she want? Why was she here? And what did Scoops of all things have to do with it all?

“Don’t worry,” she said dispassionately, “I’m not hitting you with anything you can’t take.”

“But—” Clark started. But she fired again. The blast wasn’t that overwhelming neon this time, but red, red, red. And then everything went black.

#my adventures with superman #clois

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neurodiversitysci · 1 year

Text

Question for Readers: How do real Neurodivergent people exercise?

Hi, neurodivergent friends, especially those of you with ADHD/executive dysfunction, or dyspraxia. Do you regularly exercise or move your body? If so, what do you do? How often? How do you stay consistent, or deal with being inconsistent?

Knowing how real neurodivergent people exercise (not just neurotypical influencers/self help types) would help me immensely. Just like with cleaning and organizing, we often have to do things in a different way, and it doesn’t necessarily look like what you see in magazines and the like. I want to broaden my mind to the full possibilities of what exercising can look like.

Why I’m Asking:

I’m no longer young enough for my body to stay basically functional without regular physical exercise. I need to do regular physical activity that involves bearing my own body weight and raising my heart rate.

I need to build up my endurance and develop some arm muscles so basic life tasks like grocery shopping don’t wear me out.

I also need physical activity to reconnect me to my body. Pretty much everything I do (like reading, writing, and interacting with friends online) keeps me still so long I forget I have a body, and then it’s hard to start moving again.

I also need physical activity that involves going outside, and people watching or even interacting with people, to connect me to the world and remind me that I’m real. You know, all those mental health benefits of moving and being in nature.

I also need a way to burn off those intense emotions that can stick around for hours, instead of distracting myself from them. And perhaps, burn off some anxiety/restlessness/hyperactivity, while I’m at it.

The Assets

I like walking at a moderate pace and could do for hours.

I love yoga, especially of the slow paced type where you focus on how you feel in a pose and intensify it to the maximum point you can stand.

I love dancing to music, including fast paced songs with a strong beat.

The Challenges:

Low endurance, physical weakness: I need something low impact and appropriate for someone with low endurance and something like exercise induced asthma.

ADHD Inconsistency and Discouragement: I need goals specific enough to actually do the exercise, yet flexible enough that I won’t get discouraged and stop. I need to either not trigger my perfectionism, or work around it.

Executive Dysfunction: I suck at building habits, especially keeping them consistently. These days, I’m so discouraged from years of frustration with trying to build habits that I rarely try at all. Also, I have difficulty setting SMART goals around exercise especially because I’m not very knowledgeable about what’s healthy and realistic (and am exhausted by the prospect of wading through “bro science” to find useful info).

History of dyspraxia; lack of confidence in my physical body and embarrassed about being physically unfit in front of other people.

Heat sensitivity -- it was almost painfully exhausting going outside last summer, which limited the opportunities I had to exercise.

How would you deal with challenges like these?

If you have similar challenges, how do you deal with them?

Any ideas for what sort of exercises to do, how often, etc.?

Why Reply?

I will try any suggestions that seem promising. So, you might be able to help me.

I plan to write about what works for me, what doesn’t, and why. Maybe that information will help someone else in a similar situation. If so, you might help other people, too.

Thank you!

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thislovintime · 1 year

Photo

Ann Moses with Peter Tork (plus Jimmy Page and Micky Dolenz) in the 1960s and in the 2010s.

“Peter Tork was not your typical teen idol. He was a musician first, and a genuine peace-and-love hippie the rest of the time. [...] [When he died] the world lost a kind, talented man. [...] After Peter and producer Bob Rafelson were inspired by the video tricks they had seen other bands use at The Fillmore in San Francisco, the Monkees made their political statement by including slide shows with scenes from the civil rights movement on huge black-and-white screens behind them as they performed. [...] His sincerity was true Peter. Never lived a rock-star lifestyle. He always smiled the brightest on the stage. That is his legacy. [...] [When I last saw him,] he seemed fulfilled and happy to be making music with his group, Shoe Suede Blues, and preserving his family home in Connecticut with his loved ones close by.” - Ann Moses, CNN, February 22, 2019

“Behind the scenes, they would joke with one another, and, you know, I’d see them ad-lib in some of the episodes. I would find out that it was a much more casual set than some of the other TV shows I ended up going to. […] They did what they felt like doing. When they — something would come into their minds, it would be, you know, they’d try that out, and half the time the director would say, That’s a take. The Monkees were just like no one else, and so those times on the set, it really gave me a chance to just see all the creativity that came out of these four extremely talented young men. […] Dave Clark and Jimmy Page would say, ‘Can you get us on the Monkees set?’ Because they knew I was out there all the time. And I would say, ‘Yeah, I can.’ And so I’d call up, I’d make the arrangements, and so… when Jimmy Page, when he went out to the set, I mean, he was just like gaga. And it was so cool, he just had so much fun watching the show. And so that was a different one. He was just a fan. And of course that made The Monkees just feel so good, because they, you know, the first year, they were fighting the battle of: do they play their instruments? Are they really musicians? And here a musician that they admired, from the UK, was excited about them. So it was very validating and made them feel really good. […] As I got to know Peter, he treated me with such respect, as if I were a peer. And in a way I was. But, you know, to me, I’m the new girl at the magazine, I’m in there less than a year, but he’s treating me like this has been my profession for years. And still I’m nineteen years old at this point. But I think Peter was rewarded in that when we would talk about whatever it was with him — whether he was doing yoga and he was talking about the Book of Tao, I would write as he would tell me these stories. It wasn’t like I’d go, ‘Well, we’re not putting that in Tiger Beat.’ Because as I was getting to know the real Peter, then so were the readers. And that — that was my goal. And so he was always just a very considerate, thoughtful person, and, you know, a pleasure to be around. He would [give me feedback on articles as he read them]. Like I would take out… like, I just came across an article that I had written about a day on the set with Peter. I said, ‘Hey, guys, here’s the newest Monkee Spectacular.’ And Peter’s looking through it, and he goes, ‘You spelled this wrong.’ And I said, ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll correct it,’ you know. And he found a couple of other — you know, whether it was a typo or some word I’d gotten wrong. But I wouldn’t let it happen twice. It was like correcting your essay for the teacher. It was like, well, he’s not gonna catch me in a mistake again. So it made it really fun. And of course, he didn’t do it in a mean way. It’s just that, hey, we were talking about a serious subject and you made a mistake, and… and that was Peter. […] Peter did a story when he quit, and told me why. And do I know if he was being honest with me? You know, I don’t know, but it was the story that he wanted to put out, and he had been so open and honest the whole time, I didn’t think anything about it. […] By this time he was, you know, with Reine, and they got a place in the valley, had a nice pool. But when I went to the door, um, Peter opened the door and welcome me in, and of course, he was in the nude. And he said, Our house is clothing optional, if you’d like to, you know, disrobe, or I don’t know the word he used. But he said, If you’d like to join us, you’re welcome to. But there was a mixture there at the house. There were some people with clothes on, and some people with clothes off, and they were jumping in the pool. It was not something that fazed me in the slightest, so — you just gotta learn to look them in the eye. [As for Peter’s demeanor post-leaving The Monkees] He was very mellow. I mean, at that point in time, and, you know, I know he had struggles afterward because he had bought his contract out. But at that point in time, he just seemed comfortable in his skin, and he was talking about, you know, the new group [Release], and he just seemed to be, yes, unburdened, I think I would say at that point. He just, he was the chill Peter that you sometimes would see, just like he had just gotten up from meditating and he was as chill as he could be. And it seemed very natural for him. […] Often when I would interview Peter, he would tell me, you know, ‘I really want you to try LSD.’ And I’d tell him, ‘Oh, I’m afraid, I’m afraid I’ll have a bad trip.’ And he goes, ‘No, no, I’ll take care of you, I’ll make sure you have a good trip, you just — it’s such a great experience.’ And I was always really too chicken, I was just afraid of, well, what if I’m really out of control and I freak out? And so I never took him up on his offer. And then when we had our reunion in 2017, I said, ‘Peter, do you remember when you used to get me to try LSD?’ And he said, ‘Oh, Annie, you didn’t miss a thing.’ And, you know, after all the experiences that he had been through, it was that same kind of looking out for me type approach, it was like, ‘Oh, it’s just as well you didn’t,’ and it — he was, he was still being that kind of mentor to me, and it was just… it was so touching, I just couldn’t believe it after all those years, and still there was that closeness there. It was a really, really wonderful moment that I’m so, so glad I got to experience before he passed away.” - Ann Moses, The Monkees Pad Show no. 10, 2022

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goddesspharo · 6 months

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Hannix appreciation

I love your stories on AO3 you honestly characterised the relationship between Jake and Nat so well in every fic you write! They are so delightful to read 🥰

Would you ever do one based around accidental pregnancy and the two of them developing an official relationship through each month until baby arrives? I can imagine him being unsure but as her bump grows Jake fluffing round her 24/7 🥴🤣

What a lovely message to wake up to, anon! Thank you! I'm glad you like my portrayal of these antagonistic dweebs and what happens when they start getting real!

I never say never, but I'm not a huge fan of the accidental pregnancy leading to a real relationship trope. Mostly because it always follows the same beats and there's very little room for variation. It feels limiting in a way that other tried and true plots aren't. Also the temptation to go too sweet with it is too high! We'd all get cavities. (That said, it doesn't stop me from watching movies with it though! There was a time years ago when HBO inexplicably played How To Be Single all the time and I died every time I caught this scene.)

But in a hypothetical situation where Hannix were having an accidental baby, I bet Phoenix would 100% get increasingly rage blackout-y as her pregnancy progressed and threaten to eviscerate everyone once she got grounded. Whenever she walked into the kitchen and Hangman helpfully pointed out what fruit size her fetus was that day, Nat would threaten to kill him with a melon baller while Jake laughed as he handed her a homemade kale smoothie he saw on a Goop blog post before suggesting prenatal goat yoga to help her de-stress.

#ask me things #hannix

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teaandfiction-28 · 2 years

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Hi! I was wondering if you could Smut Prompt 9! Even though I love all those prompts this is the one that caught my attention! <3

Hi Anon! 🙂

So, I’ve had this thought of Hank at prenatal classes living rent-free in my head ever since I wrote Perfect Storm so I really, really enjoyed writing this one.

Hope you enjoy reading!

—————————

Prompt: “Who knew you were this kinky?”

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Smut, Language, Daddy Kink, Pregnancy Sex [18+ Only]

Timeline: Set just before C39 of Perfect Storm.

‘Daddy’.

One word. Two syllables. Five letters.

He’d never really thought about the moniker in a sexual way until it had fallen unbidden from her lips in that sweet, sensual tone and, ever since, he hadn’t been able to think about it without his dick twitching in his pants.

Not only was it incredibly inconvenient, it was becoming a fairly sizeable problem.

‘And you must be daddy?’ The spritely, albeit slightly kooky, prenatal instructor had said as she welcomed them to their first class with a warm smile, entirely oblivious to the fact that she had just inadvertently transported him back to a few days prior when Kate had raked her nails down his sweaty chest and breathlessly begged for ‘more, please daddy!’.

He had forced what he’d hoped was a genuine smile onto his face and introduced himself by name but, in his peripheral vision, he could see Kate tugging her lower lip between her teeth in an effort not to laugh at his obvious discomfort.

There was absolutely no doubt about it; she was going to be the death of him.

Later on as he sat behind her on a garish pink yoga mat kneading the tight muscles of her lower back with strong, nimble fingers, he waited for the instructor to divert her attention to a young couple on the other side of the room before leaning forwards and brushing his lips against the shell of her ear.

“Is daddy making you feel good, hmm?”

Her response was instantaneous, head falling back to rest on his shoulder with a quiet groan, the familiar warmth of arousal blooming low in her belly as his breath ghosted over the sensitive patch of skin just below her ear.

By the time they got back to her apartment, he had barely closed the door behind him when she pounced, her fingers gripping the front of his coat so that she could tug him down for a bruising kiss, her tongue immediately demanding entry to the hot cavern of his mouth. Clothes and shoes were strewn carelessly on the hardwood floor as they blindly moved towards the bedroom, hands sliding over warm flesh and urgent lips battling for dominance.

Within minutes they were completely naked, Hank situated in the middle of the bed with his back against the headboard as Kate settled herself in his lap, knees braced on the soft mattress either side of his lean hips.

“This how you want me?” He murmured, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of her jaw, his lips following the long cord of muscle down her neck towards her collarbones where he sucked a series of deep bruises into the tender flesh, his skin prickling with desire when her appreciative moan echoed around the darkened room.

“Uh-huh, just like this.” She breathed, sliding a hand between them to align the wide crest of him with her soaking centre, lowering herself down inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. She paused for a beat, her inner walls pulsing rhythmically around him, their open mouths pressed together sharing short, staccato breaths. After a few moments of stillness, she began to roll her hips in a slow, rocking motion, a tight whine accompanying a zing of lust down her spine every time her swollen bundle of nerves grazed against his pelvis just so.

This late into her pregnancy they were somewhat restricted by her burgeoning bump but, with a bit of patience and creativity, they were having some of the best sex of their lives.

“What do you need sweetheart?” He husked, voice deep and gritty with arousal as he skimmed his hands up and over her ribs to cup her heavy beasts in both palms, the pads of his thumbs repeatedly brushing over her stiff peaks and he couldn’t help but grin at the needy sound that tore from her throat.

“M-more.”

“More what?”

He knew exactly what she needed, he just wanted her to say it. Her eyes were closed, cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink and her face was beginning to sheen with sweat as she braced her hands on his shoulders, writhing in his arms in a desperate attempt to find that perfect angle.

Hank had always been naturally dominant in the bedroom but, when it came to Kate, it didn’t matter if he had her pinned to the mattress with his fingers wrapped around her long, beautiful throat, he was under no illusions that she was still very much the one in charge. And, quite frankly, he wouldn’t have it any other way. But hearing her vocalise just how much she needed him was just as much of a turn-on as having her submit to him; perhaps even more so.

“Jesus Hank...please just touch me.” She whimpered, grasping one of his hands in hers, easing their entwined fingers down over her swollen stomach to where they were joined, guiding his fingertips to brush over her aching nub.

When she was sure he had understood the assignment, she returned her hand to his shoulder, her nails biting into the rippling muscles as he edged her ever closer to that blissful peak. The pace and the pressure continued to build, Kate’s thighs trembling with exertion as she desperately rocked against him and, sensing she was close, Hank grasped a fistful of wavy locks and tugged her head backwards, forcing a slight change in angle that had bright lights flashing behind her eyelids.

“You gonna come for daddy?”

His words were like pouring gasoline on an open flame, her entire body going completely rigid as she clamped down on him almost painfully, her hips jerking frantically as the wave of pleasure finally crested, her teeth sinking deep into the flesh of his shoulder. The pinch of pain combined with the impossible tightness pulsing around him was more than enough to tip him over the edge with a muffled grunt, shooting ribbon after ribbon of release inside of her with each upwards thrust until eventually he fell still, sweaty and spent.

Kate lay completely boneless against his chest, her breath puffing against the damp skin of his throat as she fought to regulate her rapid heart rate. Hank’s fingertips danced soothingly up and down the length of her spine, absentmindedly tracing each vertebrae until eventually she shifted in his lap, a soft mewl escaping as he slipped from her body.

“So...daddy, huh? Who knew you were this kinky?” He muttered wryly, pressing a soft kiss to her sweaty temple, his chest vibrating beneath her cheek with barely restrained laughter.

“Let’s not get onto the topic of kinks, shall we?” She eased away from him slightly, lifting a coquettish eyebrow as she cupped his lightly stubbled jaw between her palms. “Not unless you’re ready for another round...Henry.”

‘Touche’.

#hank voight #hank voight x ofc #hank voight smut #hank voight one shot #hank voight imagine #prompt #ask #fanfic writer #chicago pd #chicago pd fan fiction #chicago pd one shot #hank voight fanfiction

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7ndipity · 6 months

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Hello love congrats for the 2k💗💗💗

I had to jump in that shipping game if its still open.

Pairing: romantic

I'am a gen z

My zodiac sign: sagittarius and a rising libra,scorpio venus and mars you tell a lot by just that so let me dive in more into the realm of me.

Type:INFJ

Appearance: long black hair almond eyes, I'm white , sharp jaw overall I'am the definition of angelic beauty for my body I have a toned model body I'm not that tall though but perfect portions on the ass and the tits and excuse my language dear English isn't my first.

I'am a sexology student.

My personality: straight up I'am a hypersexual being and I love to include it in my daily activities and hobbies I love to be sensual to move slowly to talk slowly to be feminine and I'm a very spiritual person I love the moon and I love the sea I love to day dream I love to read books, I'm a very introverted person I don't like going out I love to stay in and be with myself and no one else I really love solitude I'am a loving person that's full of love and full of sexual energy I'am very creative and very smart I'am a fast learner I have a very high stamina sexualy and not sexualy I love to workout and move my body I do mostly pilates and I love to do sensual yoga that allows me to move sensually and allows me to touch my body and btw my love language is physical touch also I love to take care of myself and I'm also a very kind person I love to take care of the ones that I love and for loving I do love deeply I'm very passionate about life what is life without passionate, I love romcom and suspense and I forgot to mention that I'am indeed a writer And if you are asking about what I write I do in fact write smut I love to dance and to listen to music mostly r&b and kpop also latino, I'm very obsessed with myself and with the way I look If I could I would definitely be in romantic relationship with myself but the thing is that I love men so they beat my obsession for myself.

For my style : I love to dress in an ethereal attire like the mermaid,fairy,goddess,angel core things that fit the body in a surreal way I also love to be naked so that's why I love those styles due to them making me feel naked or like I was born in those pieces.

It's 1:11 as I finished writing this sending you love💗💗💗

I would ship you with Jimin and Tae, and to a lesser extent Jungkook! They all have rather romantic/sensual aspects to their personalities, so I think they’d match you quite well on that front.

Jungkook and Jimin are both quite introverted, so I think they’d understand and respect your need for alone time and solitude. Jungkooks also quite high energy/stamina, so I think he would appreciate a partner that can match him in that way.

Jimin and Tae I think would be very charmed by your angelic style/vibe(Jimin’s joked he’s an actual angel/fairy before), and they both really thrive on physical affection and have very romantic. Jimin’s also a Libra, which are typically a really good match for Sagittarius!

Hope this was okay💜

#ship game #7ndipity 2k celebration

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abi-cosmos · 1 year

Text

Abi’s weekly Destiel fanfic retreat!

Fic Recs!

Happy Monday everyone!

I have a confession, while I love writing fics, I’m terrible at finding time to read them. Which means I’m super late to the party for so many big name Destiel fics, and there’s still a couple I haven’t read.

But there is no better feeling than finding a new fic!! It is amazing, and the talent this fandom has is outta this world.

As this is our first time at the retreat, I’m starting small with several of my bookmarks, and some that I’ve talked about irl after a drink too many. Oops.

Somebody Up There Likes Me - bumblebea: Explicit. 17579 words. Castiel is temporarily turned female, and Dean deals with a lot of internalised homophobia. I was a little unsure about Castiel in a female body, but this works. Trust me.

The Way We Were - Background_Foxe. Explicit. 29642 words. Fake dating...with a helping of amnesia!

Stupid with a Flare Gun - remmyme. Explicit. 3912 words. Set in s05e03, this is porn. It’s entirely porn.

The Mechanics of the Universe - n_nami. Explicit. 116863 words. Space Husbands AU. This is Dean and Cas in space, you don’t even have to like science fiction to enjoy their relationship in this, if you love enemies to lovers and mutual pining, then you’re good.

This Ain’t the Three Amigos - DoctorProfessorSong. Explicit. 4109 words. PWP that totally happened in the show*. *should have.

The Trouble With Blue Eyes - FriendofCarlotta. Explicit. 14902 words. 1950s Detective AU. I was already bias because the artist for this fic did the art for my Pinefest 2023 fic and she’s incredible, but this is just a beautiful melding of fic and art. It’s noir and atmospheric, but Dean and Cas are every bit the idiots we love.

and finally, for the big name fic I have to mention:

The Dean Winchester Beat Sheet - saltyfeathers. Explicit. 144488 words. I’d put off reading this for years, mostly because I didn’t think I was interested in college AUs, but I was desperately looking for a long fic last week and decided it was time. I’m pretty disappointed in myself, because it’s friggin’ amazing. If anyone else is still on the fence about it, you won’t regret it.

That’s it for now, but I’ll be pulling out some more recs next week.

Don’t forget to hydrate, be kind to yourself, and put your yoga mats back on the shelf when you’re done.

Namaste 🙏

#abi's weekly destiel fanfic retreat!#destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel fic recs #fic recs #fanfiction

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buckysmith · 1 year

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Hi, I absolutely love your COD matchups! If you're still doing them I'd love to see who you think I'd fit with.

I'm female, 5'4 with thick brown hair and green eyes. I'm on the curvier/bigger side but despite acting like it doesn't bother me, deep down it does. I have tattoos and plan on getting more. I rarely wear make-up and I live in yoga pants or sweatpants lol.

I have a more dominant personality and can be pretty abrasive and prickly at times (I am the definition of resting bitch face lmao). But, I'm also pretty quiet. I've dealt with a lot of trauma over the years and protect my kind heart a little too aggressively sometimes. My family looks to me to act as the leader and decision-maker, even my mom, and even though I prefer to go with the flow, I take on that role. If I hadn't injured my knee in high school, I would've joined the military.

I'm not the best at controlling my anger, I can be pretty blunt, and have little patience for sugarcoating or beating around the bush. But I'm also determined, helpful, and passionate. Although, I have a dark sense of humor. My love language is words of affirmation and quality time.

I love helping people in any way that I can. I've always stuck up for people that weren't confident enough or able to do it themselves. I spend a lot of time reading or writing and I like to be outside whenever I can. I enjoy drawing, knitting, cross-stitching, and sewing.

Well, I think that's all lol and thank you for taking the time to read it and think of a matchup 🖤

Hmm, I can’t really decide which one of the guys I should pick for you…

I think I go with Price.

He’s got a lot of patience, so if you happen to lash out or you don’t have the greates day he tries to calm you down.

He admirers that you help people and especially that you help them who can’t help themselves.

He also likes your sense of humor.

He wouldn’t force you to give him control, but if you ever need a break of being a leader, he’s there to temporary replacement you (only if you ask him to do so)

He knows that you don’t show anyone that you deep down struggle with yourself, but this man will help you to see you as beautiful as he sees you

He tried to do your hobbies too, so that he would know what your talking about- but he failed terrible.

#captain price

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pinklocksoflove · 2 years

Text

It was a pretty average day, a bit on the hot side but rain was in the forecast soon. Taking a break from writing Karine heads out, she was feeling quite a craving for a watermelon monster and maybe a box of crackers. To the nearby grocery store she went. Clad in a light grey tanktop with a Royals logo on it and a pair of knee length shorts. All seemed fine, even a good classic rock song came on the store's sound system. Helped a kind old woman reach something from a high shelf. Being as tall as she is, she enjoyed helping others using her height like that.

Then Karine saw... her

You know the type. Middle aged, oversized sunglasses, hot pink tank top that is too tight, legs crammed into a suffering pair of yoga pants, the classic blonde and brown short haircut. Karen.

She was being rude to another customer for no apparent reason, who knows what little thing put a bee in her underwear bit she was making it everyone else's problem. As she turned, Karine saw the 'missile lock' in her eyes as she spotted the pink haired beauty. The Karen galumphed her way over. Knowing what was coming Karine decided to go deadpan literal hoping to throw her off and looked away towards the shelves

In that typical fashion the Karen says "Excuse me!"

Karine keeping a straight face replies. "Why? What have you done that needs excusing?" This threw the other woman off as she paused for a second, looking like a dog that had been shown a card trick then angrily asked.

"Can you help me?!" Scowl returning to her face as the younger woman replies in a very neutral tone.

"I couldn't possibly know. I don't know what you want, ma'am." The Karen's face twists into a look of disgust and anger... well moreso

"Where do you keep your eyelash curlers?" While Karine did know as she shopped here often she wanted to screw with this woman more.

"I don't keep them anywhere, if I did it would probably be in my bathroom." She stated plainly, keeping up the bit. The older woman argues

"Yes you do! I've seen them before!" This made Karine question if she actually had seen them and not at another store. Some people often confuse different stores as they all are the retail environment. Regardless she continues the bit.

"I'm certain I don't. I've never owned any. My eyelashes manage to bend all on their own. I'm more than happy with the bendiness of my eyelashes, ma'am. This immediately threw the Karen off once again

"Huh? What? No, idiot, I mean the store. Where in the store are the eyelash curlers?" To which Karine simply shrugs and replies

"I haven't got a clue." It was easier to keep the bit if she feigned ignorance. Clearly confused the older woman asks

"Why not?" To which Karine replies

"I refer you to my previous answer: I never use them." This certainly got the other woman's temper to start climbing more

"Aargh! Are you trying to be stupid?" And without missing a beat Karine replies.

"No, it's effortless." This made the woman screech, beginning to turn redder by the second.

"This is ridiculous!" Almost breaking a smile the pink haired beauty goaded her on by saying

"I completely agree, quite ridiculous." More screeching, people were already gathering around to watch this fiasco unfold. Then the Karen utters the mantra of entitlement

"I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOUR FUCKING MANAGER!!!" Stomping her foot like an angry toddler in a tantrum. Karine almost burst out laughing at this.

"There is an issue with that request, I don't have a manager. So you're asking to speak to someone who doesn't exist." This got a few chuckles out of the crowd.

"BULLSHIT!! You work here so there must be a manager!" Then it clicked for most of the people what was going on. Karine acting confused looks at herself in her state of dress and asks

"Did they change the uniform? I wasn't aware I was hired here." At that point a member of management and a security officer were rapidly approaching hoping ti diffuse the situation. Karine thought she saw a slight hint of understanding spread across the Karen's puzzled, angry face.

"You do work here... don't you?" It finally seems to be clicking for her.

Karine replies with a simple no which wasn't the a answer Karen was looking for.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU FUCKING SAY SO??!" And there was the opportunity to bring the bit on home as management and security arrived

"You didn't ask me, until now. I gave no indication that I did either. You just approached me and started questioning me on my personal grooming habits." The Karen decided she has had enough and came as close to being face to face as she could with the six foot five pink haired woman, with about a foot difference in height

"YOU'RE A FUCKING MORON!!!" The manager puts her hand up in a gesture to stop Karen dead in her tracks. This wasn't the manager's first rodeo.

"Ma'am please stop swearing and lower your voice, there children here in the store." The manager turns to Karine and asks "What's happening, miss?"

Karine explains as accurately as she can. "I'm not really sure, this woman was being rude to another customer then she approached me and began interrogating me on my personal grooming habits, she wasn't happy with my answers so she started to spit shout at me. All I came here to do was get a watermelon monster and possibly some crackers, but ended up helping a nice old woman reach for something on the top shelf because I like helping people."

The Karen shouts arguingly "NO THAT'S NOT FUCKING TRUE. I WAS SHOUTING AT HER BECAUSE I THOUGHT SHE WORKED HERE." Not that anyone needed clearer proof she was a terrible person.

The manager puts a hand up again and states calmy yet firmly "Whether she was an employee or not, you can't talk like that. We have a strict policy about abusing customers and staff. We don't tolerate it." Still screaming Karen argues

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT SHE'S A FUCKING IDIOT! IF SHE HAD..." Once again the manager stops her, clearly done with this.

"Ma'am, stop shouting or I'm going to have to ask you to leave" The manager turns to Karine and asks. "You okay, miss?" To which Karine replies about ready to go and grab her drink and check out.

"Yeah, I'm all good, just thirsty. If you don't need me anymore I'll be on my way." Karine waves and the manager nods to her as the rest of the crowd disperses and Karen is taken to the front to have a stern talking to and due to her behavior, to no one's surprise is a repeat offense so she is formally trespassed from the store.

Karine gets her drink and spots Karen on her way out giving a sly smirk and takes a swig of her newly purchased drink.

#drabble #long post #Karine Langley

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