#every appliance is dented

[dcangel]

that one void stiles laugh

[sovereignjojoz]

Mista with an affectionate rich girlfriend! reader!!!

Pairings: Mista x fem reader

Warnings: reader is kinda spoilt but sweet, maybe even a bit ditzy.

Notes-as soon as this popped into my head I had to write it idek?!&@)&?£&&/

<3thinking about Mista with a spoilt but sweet rich little girlfriend who just spoils him rotten and buys him all these gifts and jewellery :((

<3and like when the gang meet you they fully understand because you're (one of Mista's many types) to a T. Like you're dressed from head to toe in an elegant co-ordinated outfit, with high heels and expensive shades on, because you wanted to make a good impression, and you're just there clinging to Mista like "hi🥰!!, I'm Mista's girlfriend!"

<3you literally just cling to him the whole time too, kissing him casually and leaving some of your lipstick shade on his lips, sitting in his lap, holding his hand, re-adjusting his hat, he loves it.

<3and he knows how much effort you put in today since you wanted to make a good impression on his friends, you even dragged him shopping just to buy a new outfit for this occasion since you were slightly worried of what they’d think, so he made sure to tell you how good you look murmuring comments like “you look so pretty baby.”

<3you can’t help but cuddle him and kiss him all over.

<3the others were so curious and couldn’t help but ask how the two of you met and you obliged telling them how you saw him walk into your favourite boutique and he was just so cute you had to make him your boyfriend, so you begged him for a date and at first he said no (he didn’t wanna put a pretty girl in danger due to his occupation) but at your disappointment he changed his mind and gave you his number causing you to squeal.

<3cue Mista blushing slightly as you reminisce.

<3he finds himself drowned in jewellery and expensive glasses and stuff just because you see something that you think would look nice on him and just MUST buy it for him, and it’s fine since your dad is like the top surgeon or something so it’s not even a dent in your pocket. He’s so flattered.

<3sometimes he’ll just here a ping, or see a notification saying: [name] sent you €750. Hiii baby~ please treat yourself, I love youuu! Mwah mwah mwah! He finds your generous it’s so adorable.

<3he’s also a good boyfriend though, like he treats you really well, is protective of you and most importantly returns your affection like he’ll spoil you rotten with quality time.

<3he definitely shows you a ton of places too, y’know since he’s eighteen years old and would most likely love going out, so he loves showing you all these cool places that he knows and seeing your reaction since you’re mainly used to prestige.

<3he’s quite patient with you too (I mean he deals with the pistols on a regular so…), so like if you don’t understand something like how to use a regular appliance, he’s probably going to tease you a lil then show you how to use it, or not so you have to keep coming to him every time you want to use it (hehe).

<3and even though he may not be as loaded as you, he likes to spoil you too! He knows that you’re high maintenance and like to do stuff like getting your nails done, or getting new outfits so he often indulges you too. Once in a while you’ll see a notification like: Mista sent you €200. For ya nails babe, get em blue and red like my hat or that pink that looks good on you, almond shape.

<3he’s so sweet, he might even get his nails done with you sometimes, he just loves his gf so much!

In conclusion, boyfriend Mista>>> and he deserved to be spoilt rotten!🥰

[anonauthorsworkshop]

I need more of that mha scp au (I'm new here call me 🕸️-annon or 🐾-annon

Of course!! welcome 🕸️ anon!

AU where MC, instead of being transported to the SCPverse, is thrown into MHA, but with a SCP-summoning quirk. i do not know much about this manga/anime, and i apologize for any mischaracterization. if you'd like to see more of this AU, you can look for it under the "pp mha au" tag :)

-

You love your cardboard box. It’s quite cozy, actually. Even if it’s not a soft blanketed bed, it’s yours. Your box is a part of the home you’ve made, hidden and tucked away in the back of an alleyway. As you reside in the narrow aisle, the towering shadows of adjacent buildings cover your tired eyes, giving you the pinch of privacy and comfort you need.

It’s not much, but it’s enough. You’re fine this way. You don’t need more. You’ve survived this long.

At least, you think. That survival record of yours might get cut short if you don’t think quickly now.

You were rudely awoken today by chatter. Usually noise doesn’t bother you — you deal with passing cars and planes flying overhead every hour. But these people were loud, and they sounded awfully close. Irritated, you peered at those who interrupted your slumber.

Then immediately slipped back into your box.

The people in your alleyway appeared to be fighting. Judging by their discussion of 'territory,' it's likely a conflict between two... gangs. Yakuza. Mafia?

You don't care to tell the difference. But they’re definitely fighting in front of your cardboard home.

You squeeze your limbs, compressing them into a curled position. You’d rather stay hidden in your box until the conflict settles instead of entangling yourself in it. Maybe you could even sneak in some naptime.

Listening to the sounds of bones cracking, you retract your statement. No way you’d get any more sleep when they’re being this loud.

Tensing, you hear a groan of pain, and a wisp of wind grazes your face as someone’s body is thrown in your direction. They crash into your box, and you’re knocked outward at the impact. You lay, sprawled on the dirty cement.

Sitting up in a panic, your eyes dart to your beloved home, skidded several feet away from you.

The cardboard… It’s dented!

Your home is ruined!

Amidst your internal dilemma, another dispute occurs as your presence is revealed.

“This is why you’re protecting this turf so badly? Recruiting— No, taking children? Do you have no sense of morality?”

You stare at the crushed parcel. There's no way you'd be able to use that box again; it's beyond repair. You'll have to go garbage dumping for more cardboard.

"Us? Is this child not one of yours?"

Maybe you could scavenge the trash at the nearest appliance store. Or should you go to the postal office?

"You're using another cheap tactic."

"Fine, then."

Body stilling, you're shoved out of your nonplussed state. Cold metal meets your skin, gun pressed to your temple. The change in temperature flings away your drowsy, child-like delusions, and the danger of the situation alights itself on your mind's branch.

"If I'm so 'cheap,' leave our turf." The muzzle felt tight as it burrowed into your skin. "You like maintaining your morals, right?" The metal was pushed so deeply — you're sure your face will be left with a red, burning mark. "Leave."

With the current impasse, your mind scrambles for a way out.

Firearms... Weaponry...

You know which one you need.

The concrete below dims, like a shadow overcast, turning into murk.

The man holding you hostage seems to freeze, a momentary jolt as his muscle tissues squeeze, fibers tightening at a tingling sensation — something spreading from behind.

He collapses, body rotting against cement.

You stand, looming over the misshapen carcass. His abdomen dons a gaping, arm-sized hole, covered in a dripping black mass.

Your gaze turns to the one you summoned.

In a slow, winding movement, the old man brings his wrist to his chest. Unclenching his fist, there lays a clump of flesh, crumbling in his hand.

106 cracks a black, gooey grin.

"Did you enjoy your hunt?"

Tangled heaps of carnage clutter the alleyway. Your place of shelter is littered with dark, corrosive sludge, obscuring the corridor with more shadow.

Ah... You've made a mess.

Maybe you should have called for a different anomaly, but you were on a time crunch. You knew 106 wouldn't be affected by a firing line, no matter how speedy the bullet.

"You had your fun, right?"

106, of course, doesn't respond.

"It's time for you to go back. Thanks for all the help. Without you, I'd be dead meat."

As if from memory, the old man moves his arm in a deliberate, arc-like motion. The maneuver is fast — much faster than his typical movements. Your eyes travel to his fingers, tips touching the top of his eyes.

Is he saluting you?

Your nonchalant expression melts into a smile. You find joy in the oddest of things, it seems.

“There’s no need for that, you know.”

106 drops his arm to his side. You flick your wrist, as if to visualize a movement, and he disappears as you send him back to his intended cosmos.

Sighing, you plop to the ground, encircled by mangled remains. Not only are you going to need a new cardboard box, but you’re going to need a new place to live — no way you’re cleaning up all this…

It was like finding the runt of a litter.

Amidst the alleyway’s umbra, Aizawa spots you, seemingly in deep contemplation.

Immediately, his hero’s instincts kick in upon the sight — a kid, no older than 16, surrounded by a sea of bodies — and takes a step forward.

Something from below hisses. He darts his gaze downward to the tip of his shoe. There’s something eating at it, melting and corroding the material.

He retracts his foot, finding a black mass underneath.

You’ve noticed him by now, it appears, as your gaze latches onto his.

Something is terribly, terribly wrong here, he can’t help but think.

Your eyes are hollow, unbothered by the death around you. He realizes that the dark substance bestrewing the corridor seemed familiar — the same corrosion had been found in previous cases, bodies unrecognizable and perpetrator unknown.

Aizawa then recalls what words he’d received. A description from All Might — one that you fitted perfectly.

“You’re here to kill me.” You say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Not at all, kid. Just here to help you.”

“What?” You scoff, “Like some sort of hero?”

“I’d like to take you to a safer place,” he offers. “There’s some people who’d like to ask you some questions.”

“…Will there be food?”

He nods.

“Oh, okay.”

Aizawa watches as you approach him, stepping over the distorted limbs of each body, and walking atop the dark ooze without a care.

“Count me in, then.”

[sagau-my-beloved]

Can we get more of venti coming to our world

I'm invested 😻‼️

Headcanons about sagau Venti with reader in the real world:

Absolutely! I'll go ahead and post those headcanons I said I was going to do under here, but I'll probably be posting another actual continuation of the work soon, hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: general Sagau, minor codependency, mentions of alcohol consumption, that's about it folks

-

• You are now the owner of a very high maintenance but devoted God

• Congratulations

• He can do tricks, so that might make up for some of it

• The first month or two you completely confined him to the house

• If he's going to go out there and make an idiot of himself, he might as well not seem like he's from another planet while doing so

• Wants to know about everything, really an unsatable amount of curiosity

• "But how exactly can television content be turned into 'waves' and travel through the air in particles? How do they know what to reform as??"

• After answering about a thousand questions, you finally just get him his own phone so he can look them up himself while you're not there

• Big mistake

• You now can't get peace no matter where you go

• He's the type to call and text you over every little tiny thing

• "My lovveee, I saw a bird today :D!" *sends attachment*

• "Uhh, are you sure that's not a leaf?"

• "..."

• "My lovveeee, I saw a leaf that looked like a bird today :D!"

• At the end of the day, you're going to have about 100 messages and over 50 calls

• Also constantly steals your phone to take pictures of himself and change what you have him set as in your contacts

• "Ok why did you change your contact name 'most beloved and devoted follower'?"

• "... Am I not your most beloved and devoted follower?"

• You're going to have to take him to a few clothes stores too, he gets weird enough looks just on his behavior alone, no need to add to that

• Keeps the signature green color though, and he could never part with the braids

• Since you wouldn't let him go outside, he decides to take an interest in plant keeping

• Says that it's stifling to be surrounded by no life all the time, kinda uses that line to guilt you into staying home with him more too

• You're going to have to reel him back a bit though, otherwise your entire house is going to be covered in greenery

• "Just one more? Look how sad it looks here."

• He always gives you that heartbreakingly sad face and you really just can't deny him, as much as it's putting a dent in your wallet

• Speaking of money, that's another thing he's particularly curious about

• He's only ever had Mora, so he likes learning about the history of your type of money and how it didn't come from a God

• Was also very confused about the lack of Gods and supernatural things

• Teach him about organized religious, do it, I dare you

• If he thought it was weird still having a decent following after not appearing for a couple hundred years, boy oh boy, watch him as he tries to grapple with Christianity

• He tries very hard to help out during the day when you're not home

• All the modern appliances are kind of confusing at first, you certainly have come home to a mess a few times before

• But after a few weekends that you spend dedicated to teaching him how to use the things around your house, he gets the hang of it

• Likes to spend his time cooking and cleaning and making things

• You once joked about how it felt like the nineteen fifties when you walked in and he excitedly greeted you, rambling on about the various things he did all day which included making dinner and  trying his hand at various fiber arts

• He didn't get the joke

• I honestly think he would be pretty good at crocheting or knitting if he could develop the patience for it

• He does feel like this mundane housekeeping stuff is the least he can do for you though, not having a lot of modern day money making talents

• He snuck into a bar once to try playing for money (and get a few drinks) as he usually did, got kicked out almost immediately

• Still indulges though, you're going to have to drop a couple hundred on wine each month

• Almost cried when he learned that dandelion wine wasn't really a thing here

• You did take him to an alcohol store and let him pick out what he wanted after that incident, then practically forced him out of the building while you paid, otherwise he would have definitely be carded and you both would have had to leave with nothing

• Clings to you the rest of the day after that, going on and on about how much he loves and appreciates you, and that gets more intense the more he drinks

• One of the earlier problems was where he would be sleeping

• He spent the first week on the couch, allowing you to have your space

• For the next three weeks he acted as though he was going to sleep on the couch, and then crawled into your bed when you fell asleep

• You eventually just gave in and let him sleep there, he was much happier to be openly affectionate when he knew you weren't going to kick him out immediately (you still had your limits)

• Always wakes up first, the only caveat to that was when he drank heavily the night before

• So I guess he only woke up first about 50℅ of the time

• But insist heavily on making you something in the mornings, coffee, tea, breakfast if you'd let him

• "Oh good morning my love! Would you like something to eat? I made it just for you~"

• There are times where you can't sit down with him to eat, having to be somewhere early

• He always plays it off, but is super upset after you leave

• The food just doesn't taste nearly as good without you there

• Oh, and good luck if you have a cat

• He doesn't tell you that he has an allergy for the first couple of days, just internally dealing with the discomfort of it

• He has already resigned himself to the fact that this is going to be his fate from now on, he's come to terms with it

• You do catch on, ask him why he didn't tell you sooner that he was allergic, then offer to buy him some over the counter medication for it

• "That's possible!?"

• Small existential crisis, it's fine, don't worry about it, this happens a lot

• Eventually you do finally have to let him out, it's in his nature to wonder

• And honestly, he's kind of horrified over the current state of your world

• The political climate, the ecological climate, all of it

• It reinforces his believe that he's running his city correctly by not running it at all

• It also strengthens his resolve to eventually bring you back to Teyvat with him, it's so much nicer there, and it isn't nearly as hot, and the world isn't falling apart

• Looking past that though, he does really like going to different places, hikes and trails and beaches

• His powers do still work as well, there's just as much elemental energy in this world as in his, it's just no one knows how to use it here

• You do scold him every time he does something like that in public though

• Also he's absolutely guilty of pda

• Can't help himself

• Tries really hard to avoid phrases like "your grace" or "divine creator"

• But sometimes they slip out, and then people give you both weird looks, and you glare at him, and he looks at you apologetically

• He'll make it up to you later

• Is actually coming up with tons of new ways to make things up to you, because of how good you are to him

• He should really be the one providing for you, in all ways, and it frustrates him to no end

• He always feels like he's in debt in one way or another, but that's fine, that's the way it's always been

• As soon as you both get to Teyvat he's going to make up for it all, give you anything you want

• If you do ever end up getting there, he's gonna have some habits he might have a hard time breaking

• "Why is the Anemo God cooking for the creator?? Aren't there like 50 other people that can do that???"

• He'll find himself missing the convenience of your world sometimes

• Also, the sudden lack of one on one attention is going to completely eat at him

• If it's particularly bad, he's going to take you on a vacation back in your world for a few weeks

• (which translates to like two years there oh no—)

• Eventually you do have to tell him about the game, how you're not really "the creator", but just the person who guides the player, how there are hundreds of other people worldwide that know about him and all the others, play the game no different than you

• It takes a while for him to really come to terms with it

• Still justifies you being better than everyone else because you actually have an active religion surrounding you in the game, you're the one he came for

• And even if you didn't "make the game" you're still the reason why so many people in it are happy

• And he's still 100℅ convinced that you are a reincarnation of the creator

• Game or not, that universe is real to him and all that live in it, there are a lot of things that happened there that aren't shown in game, so that must mean it exists outside of the game too right?

• But he has an absolute day going through people posting about it

• You are kind of looking over his shoulder, doing your best to limit his exposure to some of the really horrible Internet stuff

• He prefers reading, creating, and singing your praises in his spare time anyway, which works out well for both of you

[heartfullofleeches]

(@ophticcus)

If you manage to get out of there without them noticing first, the gallery will become understandably filled with grief and rage. How could you abandon them like this? Weren't you coming to love them? Like they had you? You won't last out there without them. You have to stay..

The residents will become more hostile than they are now. Even fellow workers or new guards aren't free from their wraith. They'll try anything to get you back. Manipulate other humans to kidnap you, calling your old numbers, make a replica - but it could never be the same.

If they do manage to find out before you leave, well, that's another story.

-

This was it - your final night at the gallery.

While doing some job surfing in your free time, you came across a gig that payed better than your current employers, and probably wasn't full of haunted, cursed or otherworldly art pieces. The gallery obviously paid fairly well for what you had to do, but if there was a job where you didn't have to worry about finding another pair of discarded bloody clothes or running from living statues - you'd take it.

The week had been long, with a pretty mellow end. You just wanted to get to the last day of the payroll before you left, and get your last looks at the gallery. The art works hasn't been very active lately. If fact, it seemed that some were actively avoiding you. The scavenger painting who'd always follow you about hadn't left their frame once; and the constantly gossiping statues in the garden grew hush when you walked by. Strange, but it would make it easier when you have to leave.

"Hey, Hey. It's starting soon, right?"

You freeze. Watering the plant monster in the garden and their roses lead you right passed that little group. Three black silhouette statues wearing one of the three primary colors in the form of a dress or suit. Sometimes they switched around. The only other thing that differed from their onyx skin was their wide smiles; clambering on and on each night about the things they heard. They cup their hands over their faces to keep their voices down, but their loud mouths never stay shut.

"Hush! They'll hear you."

"I think they already have..."

You speed walk out of the garden. It was getting close to the end of your shift, better to gather your things now so you wouldn't have to rush. The statues giggle as you run off.

Entering the break room, you discover your locker to be broken open; the metal dented by heavy fists. The itch of anxiety crawls up your spine. This wasn’t the time for games. It's been a minute since you've had to deal with a mischievous painting. Why now of all times? Did.. they know somehow?

You shake the thought from your head. No, no, you kept your mouth shut. There was no way they figured out you were leaving. They wouldn't be this calm if they has. Calm down- breath. You inhale, and start to look for your bag.

You find it behind the fridge; covered in black handprints and slightly warm from the heat of the appliance. It's a quarter to seven. Time for you to leave. You exit the room; growing pale at the sight of what was before you, or rather - what wasn't.

There was a painting frame there. One you remembered vividly, from the sweet melodies that rang from it each night. It was a portrait of a violinist; one who died mere minutes after it was finished. Their phantom would begin to play every night you clocked in, and whenever you clocked out. In your stupor from finally leaving this place, you didn't notice they had not played a single song that entire week. You hear the first note from their strings from down the corridor. Its not the usual song they play at this time.

You run. Sprinting pass all the vacant exhibits; the faces that peer out at you as you flee. Mocking you. Welcoming you. You hear footsteps falling behind you, but you don't turn your head. As the exit approaches, you ram into its doors; your shoulder burning with a dull ache as the heavy doors remain shut. A locked chain keeps them in place; glued to the frames and as strong as real steel. Your hands become covered in paint as you pull on them with all your might.

You look around for another escape; for anything. That's when you notice so many things you should have before; falling off your toes from the relief of finally being free. Windows boarded. Emergency exits blocked off. A sign hanging over the doorway of the main corridor.

"Goodbye. Welcome home, Y/n."

A kind farewell banner turned to a sickening greeting with letter written in deep red. The active artworks spill into the space, giving you just enough room to breath, but still leaving you suffocated. They come from different floors; the silent pact to stay in position broken to give their dear Nightguard their best wishes. The Director steps through the small crowd; every resident moving aside for him.

"So this is.. farwell, Y/n?"

He doesn't wait for you to reply.

"It breaks our hearts that you would have left without saying goodbye, but it's only in your nature. As we all still care for you greatly, we've decided to host a celebration for you... One that will last all day long, but we do understand you're a bit shy."

He grins.

"If you manage to get away from us until the evening, then you'll be free to go. When you fail, well, welcome home, Y/n..."

[rosielou94]

Anything For You

Father Paul Hill x F!Reader

This is my first piece of fanfic that i’ve published. I’ve got loads of ideas for this story, so if you’d like to hear more, let me know! I’m also aware the writing probably isn’t the best, so apologies. 

Summary: After helping your son when he falls over, Father Paul stops by to see you.

Warnings: single mum life, hints at unhealthy relationships, priestly sexual tension, feelings.

This story is set in a universe where Father Paul isn’t a vampire, and everyone on Crockett Island lives happily ever after.

Word Count: 1,881

 “Do you fancy a cup of tea?” You poked your head round the door to Sheriff Hassan’s office. “Or would you prefer coffee?”

Hassan’s raised eyebrows answered your question without him having to say a word.

“Coffee it is,” you smiled, heading over to the dented kettle, and flicking the switch on. As the ancient appliance roared to life you glanced out across the shop floor. There were no customers in; but then again, on an island as tiny as Crockett, you were never exactly rushed off your feet. You’d taken the job as the store manager three years ago, and moved out here with your young son, Oliver to escape the nightmare of the mainland, and your asshole of an ex.

The island wasn’t exactly paradise, but it was miles better than where you’d come from. The people were nice enough, and you’d made a few good friends in Sheriff Hassan and Erin, Oliver’s teacher. The way of life on Crockett Island was a lot slower than you were used to, but you’d come to realise that slow could be good. It gave you time to stop and smell the roses, to appreciate the small things. However, the slow life also gave you more time to think, and most days your mind was filled with thoughts of a fellow islander, one who was strictly off limits…

The high pitched screech of the kettle pulled you from your thoughts and you readied two mugs with instant coffee, before filling them with boiling water. You quietly chastised yourself for letting your mind wander again as you brought Hassan his drink, setting it in front of him with a grin.

“Crockett Island’s finest coffee,” you said, bowing in an over exaggerated manner. “Enjoy.”

Hassan stared at you, trying his hardest to keep his features deadpan, but a small smile snuck its way to the corner of his lips. His gruff exterior was hard to crack, but since he’d moved to the island as the new sheriff two years ago, you’d slowly seen his façade drop and every now and again a small smile would crack his stoic demeanour. You’d quickly grown to be good friends, and leaned on each other in times of need. He was also the only person who knew about your little crush, and he got a kick out of teasing you about it.

“Really?” he asked, when you’d come clean after a morning of shelf-stacking. “Of all the people in the world, him?”

“Crockett Island isn’t exactly crawling with eligible bachelors, Hassan,” you’d retorted, feeling slightly embarrassed at his reaction.

“The guy’s a priest,” Hassan shot back. “A priest. He swore an oath to forsake all other relationships except for God. Or something like that.”

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” you’d sighed, kicking yourself that after a string of unhealthy relationships, the one person who you could actually see yourself with had already sworn himself to our Lord and Saviour.

You headed back to the cash register and sat down, pulling out the latest novel you were reading while you waited for a customer. You still had another 3 hours on shift, and you were looking forward to getting home to see Oliver.You were halfway through a chapter when the door to the shop opened and the object of your desires stumbled in, holding your son in his arms.

“Oh my god!” You cried, standing up so quickly that your chair fell to the floor. “What happened?”

“Someone had a little accident.” Father Paul Hill gently placed your son onto the counter, his dark curly hair windswept and unruly.

“Sweetheart,” you cooed, stroking your son’s face and checking him over. “What happened?”

“I – I was pla-playing superheroes and I sl-slipped and hurt my kn-kn-knee.” Your son’s sobs never failed to wrench at your heart, and you bent forward to inspect the damage as he pulled his jeans leg up to show you his scraped knee.

“Oh dear,” you said, taking in his cut knee and grazed shin. While certainly not life threatening, it did look painful. “There’s only one thing for it,” you smiled.

“Candy?” Oliver asked, his tears stopping momentarily as he looked hopefully into your eyes.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a Paw Patrol band-aid and a magic kiss,” you retorted, “but I suppose you can have a small piece of candy for being such a brave boy.”

After retrieving the first aid kit, you administered the life saving treatment of one novelty band-aid and several magic kisses.

“Why don’t you come sit in the Sheriff’s office while you recover, Superhero?” asked Hassan, extending an arm to guide Oliver into his office. With his favourite candy in hand, Oliver had all but forgotten his injured knee.

“What’s the prognosis, doc?” Father’s Paul’s soft, melodic voice brought a small smile to your face. “Will he live to fight crime another day?”

“He’ll be fine,” you said, leaning against the counter, “all thanks to you.”

His soft eyes gazed at you, making your heart flutter. His tall, lithe frame was clothed in a white shirt, navy cardigan and dark jeans, the colours offsetting his deep brown eyes. You briefly made eye contact, and for a few heart fluttering moments, you held each other’s gaze. You forced yourself to look away and began tidying the first aid kit away.

“Thank you again,” you smiled.

“Anything for you,” replied Father Paul, reaching out to gently squeeze your arm.

 That evening, after finishing your shift and putting Oliver to bed, you sat on the sofa with a glass of wine in hand. What had Father Paul meant when he said, “anything for you?” As the island’s priest, it was his job to be here for the residents, whether they attended church or not.

You weren’t religious, and hadn’t stepped foot inside the church in your three years on the island. however, Father Paul was an active member of the community, and was often seen out and about, mingling with the islanders and getting to know everyone. Over the years you’d had plenty of conversations and interactions. He was probably just being friendly. He’d do the same for anyone, you decided, taking a sip of wine.

A soft knock at the door interrupted your thoughts and you padded across the cottage to find Father Paul standing on your porch.

“I hope I’m not interrupting?” he asked, “I came to check on the patient.”

“He’s fine,” you smiled, “resting, but I’ve been told he’ll make a full recovery and his superpowers won’t be affected.”

“That’s wonderful news. I suppose I should have come earlier, when he was awake.” Father Paul looked awkward, shuffling his feet and stuffing his hands into his cardigan pockets. He went to make a move, but you didn’t want him to leave, not yet.

“Would you like to come in?” you asked, “I can make you a drink?”

You stepped back and allowed the priest to enter, suddenly wishing you’d tidied away your sons toys and washed up the dishes from dinner.

“Tea?” you asked, feeling slightly scandalous at the thought of having a priest in your home. Whatever would Beverly Keane think?! “Or I have wine if you prefer?”

“Wine would be perfect, thank you.”

You bustled about in the kitchen, pouring crisp Sauvignon Blanc into a glass, your heart hammering in your chest.

You turned, not realising that Father Paul was right behind you, and bumping into him, spilling the wine down his front.

“Oh god,” you cried, grabbing a tea towel from the counter and wiping vigorously at the patch that now darkened the priest’s otherwise crisp shirt. “I am so sorry!”

“It’s alright,” he laughed, a blissful sound that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. “No harm done.”

His hands gently touched yours, removing the towel from you and placing it back down on the countertop. You gasped as his warm, soft skin made contact with yours. You knew you should pull away, but you couldn’t stop yourself from squeezing his hand just a fraction. He made no move to pull away either, and you looked up into his brown eyes that were filled with such tenderness it made you weak at the knees.

“I suppose I must be quite selfish,” he smiled, ever so gently running his thumb along the smooth contours of you knuckles. “I’ll confess, I did come to see how Oliver was doing. But I was also looking forward to seeing you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “You were?” you whispered, wondering whether priests were allowed to say such things.

“These last three years I’ve seen you and your son become such loved members of the community. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you both. Oliver really is an incredible boy, and you are a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day." He took your hands in his, bringing them up to his chest.

“Father Paul,” you breathed, pushing yourself into him, no longer caring whether he was a man of the cloth or not; you needed to be close to him.

“I’ve had many a conversation with God over whether the feelings I have for you are sinful.” His voice hitched, his face now mere inches from yours. You could feel his warm breath on your cheek, could smell his musky cologne mixed with the sweet scent of laundry detergent. It was intoxicating.

“And what feelings are those?” you asked, daring yourself to lightly brush your fingers through Paul’s curls.

“Feelings that I once believed her a sin. But I know that something as wonderful as you could never be a sin.” Paul’s voice was shaking, as were his hands as they reached up to gently cup your cheeks. “I’ve been a man of God my whole life – I still am. But you, my dear, you do something to me that I can’t explain.”

You so badly wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel his lips against yours.

“I had no idea you felt this way,” you smiled, trailing a finger from his hair, down to his cheek and along his jaw. You felt him shiver against you and you brushed your lips ever so lightly against his, lighting a fire of desire in your belly.

“It’s caused quite the battle of inner turmoil,” Father Paul smiled, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. “But I meant what I said earlier, in the store. I’d do anything for you, I really would.”

“Will you do something for me now?” you asked, your desire to have him almost all-consuming.

“Anything, my dear,” he whispered, pulling you flush against his body.

“Kiss me?”

Father Paul’s lips were gentle and sweet as they found yours, the sensation sending a ripple of pleasure down your spine. You sighed contentedly as the kiss deepened, your fingers weaving back into his dark, unruly locks. You could have stayed like this forever, wrapped up in his arms, just the two of you.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Father Paul gasped, breaking the kiss. “May God have mercy.”

“Oh, I have a few ideas,” you smirked, feeling his hardness pressing against your thigh. “Will you do something else for me?” “Anything,” Father Paul whispered.

“Come to bed with me?”

[snarkythewoecrow]

a little dented (but definitely not broken) (4538 words) by snarkymuch

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley Additional Tags: Established Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Past Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Evan "Buck" Buckley Has Issues, Evan "Buck" Buckley Has PTSD, Eddie Diaz is Bad at Feelings (9-1-1 TV), Worried Eddie Diaz, Soft Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Late Night Conversations, Rape Recovery, abuse recovery, Dissociation, Alcohol, Secrets, Buck revealing some key points about his past, no descriptions of rape or abuse, Buck was a victim but isn’t one now, and Eddie struggles to make sense of that, POV Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), no quick fix but a soft ending, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary:

A wet laugh bubbled up from Buck's chest. His bloodshot eyes met Eddie's. "You know why I don't want to tell you? Because you'll try and make it better—because you’ll treat me like I’m broken… who am I kidding? Shit at the junkyard’s in better shape than me.” “You know, growing up, nearly every appliance we had came from the scratch and dent store or even the dump, just saying.” And the bitter-sounding laugh that pulled from Buck didn’t lighten the mood. Though, after a moment, the corner of his mouth did tug slightly upward. “Are you comparing me to an ugly fridge right now, Diaz?” He shrugged. “Or a dryer—actually, the dishwasher we had was pretty fucked up, but still ran great—the door was warped to shit, but it didn’t leak—and it was avocado green.”

XXX

Too many times, Eddie has seen Buck freeze up and check out, eyes turning dull as he goes somewhere else, which happens more often than not when they are between the sheets.

But when he can't ignore it any longer, he does what he should've done from the start and confronts him.

Old wounds are exposed, a few metaphors about appliances are said, and some difficult conversations are had, and yet somehow, it brings them even closer together

[elliot-soot]

I wrote this based on Jubilee line from your city gave me asthma.

It was supposed to be for school but I'm also gonna post it here cuz I really loved writing it and it is related enough :)

*'----------------------------Jubilee line-----------------------------'*

1007 words

2 hours

its like the clocked had betrayed me. Like it had chosen to run

its thin hands of time just slow enough for me to feel it fade. To feel the rope connecting the

two of us as we moved threw the apartment tether and tie itself to only the objects left

behind.

The words spoken like daggers to the heart and mind stabbing deep and swiftly with no

regard. All missing the line I so desperately hoped would be cut to free the pit in my stomach

and the tightening in my chest.

I wished I could have said it surprised me. I wish I could have described the feeling as a

surprise and a swift cut. But the more I sat, the more we weaved around one and other

without a word as if only to coexist without mention or notice of one and other.

Those daggers if ever to be planted were supposed to uproot my being. Cause me to call

friends desperately trying to piece together what I was unable to build on my own.

But instead, I knew. From the moment you opened your mouth that night. The knives had

been planted, placed, dangerously from minute one. Wavering. Slowly pushing deep within

with every lack of words, lack of feeling, lack of attention drawn from one and other. The

sharp pain wasn’t new or sudden.

I held the door open that night. The apartment dimmed every step you took threw the old

musted and water damaged halls of the cheapest apartment we could find. At the time it was

easy to overlook.

The taste of soil and earth that drained itself, only ever cold from the kitchen sink was

only something I agreed to in haste. In condition. Now the condensation on the glass feels

wasted and irritating as I take labored sips of the stale and potent liquid.

the air that drew threw the cracked windows

always drew in the frigid cold. I tolerated it. On conditions alone. Promises of getting out

together. Now you leave not removed nor untethered from me. connected to the old jacket

you left in the closet, your painting you framed arrogantly and boastfully above the old

stained couch, and the shoes, you left simply because they would never get you where you

needed to go.

It had only been a day. You left to stay in a hotel till the subway could take you where

you needed to go. Yet I still couldn’t figure out why that couldn’t be here.

In this old stale apartment. Littered with only slightly good furniture and appliances.

Filled with cracks and leaks that we would hide behind wall decorations and under rugs.

Where I had spent my night throat sore and raw from yelling questions at the impossibly thin

and un-responding walls. Begging for the reasons you didn’t give me. Didn’t explain.

My lips were left chapped and salted by tears and dehydration as I fall asleep with a

pounding headache and tight chest leaving it hard to breath.

The next thing my dizzying thoughts comprehend is a message, clearly un rehearsed and

unedited written in haste on the way to the station. Sent at 11:58pm. The words spelt wrong

left without punctuation or poetic feelings that you used to weave in so effortlessly with

every seemingly normal and humane message lacking and seemingly unavailable now.

Without second thought my feet on the concrete side walks. Pounding and racing heartily

down deserted and empty walkways once bustling with the people of business that fitted so

seamlessly into the London atmosphere.

My throaty still soar and hoarse my cheeks still wet from the tears shed earlier that night.

Not much earlier. Only leaving for a hour of restless rest.

My legs seem to easily allow me to trip, and plummet distracted by them. Distracted by

what ifs. My knees now dented, bloodied, ruined and broken open and seasoned in the dirt

and dust of the somehow unrelentingly quiet city.

I pick myself up unwillingly. My body seeming to give up. To chose to truly undo what I had tried to desperately to do.

With heavy breath and blood tainting my blemished and beaten knees I continue my now

staggered pursuit of the underground rails.

They were about to leave, about to be gone. They had chosen someone else and yet all I

could do was move forward towards the spaces below the seemingly abandoned city streets.

I clammer down the stairs. It stings. It stings physically, it stings internally. The emotion

wells up in my eyes taking form of salted tears that soil my cheeks but not for the first time

since they had said they needed to leave.

The moist dirty smell so strong it corrodes and taints my palette forcing a cough and a

gage as I race out into the gate.

I see them.

Then I don’t.

The train begins to lurch forward and race its way around from the platform with speed I

could never match. With the person I could never let go. The only thing I can think is how

close they were. The way they had just stepped onto the shuttle to take them away from here.

From me.

How if he had just been quicker, he could have grabbed the edge of their green bomber jacket sleeve and at least said a untainted and genuine goodbye.

One meant to send them off to someone else with my warmest regards and my unwilling

understanding. With my hopes for them to be safe and that they take of themselves even though I wouldn’t be there to see or aid them. To tell them I rather die then wish them ill or

hurt them.

But they were gone.

Down the tunnel.

Gated off and bared just out of reach.

After all.

Maybe there’s a reason London put barriers on the rail.

[deputy-buck]

This is a transfer post from my old blog!

-------

Ahh! Hi! Yes! These are all extremely random, and kinda suck cause I’m bad at articulating what’s in my head- excuse my poor grammar lmao I hope you like them regardless

---

- Per Evan's book, he shows his affection physically, he's a very touchy man with those he likes. More specifically he really likes holding hands and cuddling on the couch, petting through their hair and over exposed skin.

- Often calls Nate "Honey", Brad "Babe", Ray "Menace (affectionate)", Walt "Pretty boy", Trombley "Pup", Doc "my old man (you know, like how southern couples call each other)", Stafford and Christeson "Staffy&Chrisy, the kids, the boys". And yet he calls everyone "Sweetheart"

- After he retired out of the Corps, he became a carpenter; decks, bars, kitchens, wardrobes, entertainment centers, wine cellars. He's more into trimwork than anything though. Good trimwork, none of that "oh the painters will caulk the gaps." bullshit. All his joints are tight, all his boards are flush, each miter is cut to the specific corner angle of the room, he doesn't just assume all walls meet at a perfect 90°, because they don't. Ever.

- Drives a ‘77 baby-blue Ford F-300 diesel dent-side. Automatic, flatbed and dual tanks, navy leather bench seat with an ebony stained dash and door panels. Rhino-Lined floor pans were a fucking must for him personally, because even though he does interior units, he hates grungy carpet. (yes this is just my dream vehicle-) 

- He loves working on it with Stafford and Christeson. He doesn’t yell at them for shaking the flashlight but he will bark at them if they put their oily, gritty hands on his paint. He’s too broke to get it refinished, okay, they’re grown enough to know better. 

- Wears cargo shorts but it’s fine, he actually uses the pockets. He always has a paper towel in his pocket too and forgets about it when he puts them in the laundry, so he has to pick off all the little bits of obliterated napkin every time. :)

- Needs glasses, has glasses, hates wearing his glasses. It’s a constant fight between him and Tim, Doc bitches that they were expensive and helps slow down the deterioration of Mike’s vision. Mike bitches that he paid for them and they’re his eyes so he can do whatever he wants with them... He wears the glasses.

- He likes camping a lot, but none of that tent camping shit, he says he’s too damn old to be sleeping on the ground anymore. So he owns a camper! A 2013 Rockwood Roo, it’s light, small, has three soft shell expandable bunks that are all queen-sized beds and a slide-out. He loves it, It’s a pain in the ass sometimes but it fits almost everyone who wants to go so it’s worth it.

- He gets ✨Emotional✨ when any of the guys are a part of a ceremony and have to wear their dress blues or service uniform. Nearly cries when they get promoted, he’s just so damn proud of his boys.

- Refuses to understand how modern kitchen appliances work; Nate’s Keurig is his archnemesis-

18+ under the cut

- A true switch, he likes just about anything that’s put on the table. And even if it’s not his cup of tea, he’s not judgmental at all, he values a lot of communication.

- Really enjoys cock-warming, loves having one of his boys’ mouths on his half-hard cock for hours while he quotes out material and types up invoices for jobs. He’ll rock his hips forward just a tad when he feels them dozing a little too far off, reminding them to keep his cock in their mouth. 

- Praises his partner no matter if he’s topping or bottoming. Seriously, he will say, “Fuck me harder, sweetheart. Good boy.” 

- Him and Captain Patterson have a Thing with Nate and Barrett being Theirs, and so they like to mess with each other by touching the other man’s Boy. All in good fun of course, they know and respect each other’s boundaries. Gunny has more patience than Patterson though, so he can watch as Patterson pets and praises Nate for much longer than Patterson can stand watching Wynn do the same to Rich. It always ends in Patterson reluctantly surrendering Nate back to Gunny and guiding Barrett to a “middle” position, having Rich kneel between Patterson’s legs and tilt his head back until they can maintain eye-contact, which leads to Patterson cupping one hand under Barrett’s jaw to press the back of his head to Patterson’s belt buckle. Gunny and Nate watch, amused and endeared.

- Can and will edge the ever living fuck out of his boys, the one’s who like it.. Brad. Brad really fucking likes it, to the point of whispering pleadingly in Mike’s ear whenever he feels too pent up. Mike’s fine with letting Brad thinking he’s doing any sort of convincing, he likes making it an emotional challenge for Colbert.

- Playfully pulls his rank when Stafford and Christeson “contradict him” in bed, “This is your Gunny you’re talkin’ to, boys.” or “Show your Gunny some fuckin’ respect, boys.” He’d never do it legitimately to make them do something they don’t actually want, but he knows they like the play of it, knows it gets them all flustered.

- Facials, I feel like that’s all I need to say but I want to say more so- Walt kneeling on the concrete garage floor, lips wrapped around Mike’s cock, hands obediently clasped behind his back while Mike thrusts into his mouth as he pleases. Mike is so close when he pulls out of Walt’s mouth, jacking himself off the rest of the way and spilling onto Walt’s face; thick, pearly ropes laid across his flushed cheeks, a risky string of it over the bridge of his nose making the younger man squint slightly. After catching his breath, all Mike can do is grin, “Such a pretty boy, Hasser.” and pat his cheek affectionately. 

- Was the only one to not treat Trombley like a fragile, skittish deer when they started getting intimate. He listened and paid attention to Trombley’s cues of when he was uncomfortable, but he didn’t fret over it. James admitted it was a little scary at first, but it made it easier to be openly affectionate with Mike and the others. Wynn, noticing how quickly Trombley is progressing, started pushing for more, quicker: deep kisses at random times to get Trombley all hot n’ bothered, feeling him up in front of the others at home like it was nothing, semi-graphic flirting in front of the whole platoon because everyone knows and couldn’t give two shits less.

- Capitalizes on Ray being smaller than him by breaking Ray’s brain just from gently wrapping his hand around Ray’s wrist, or placing his hand flat on Ray’s belly while he’s fucking Ray, acting like he can feel his own cock there. 

- Likes it a little too much when Doc wraps a hand around his throat and pulls him up while getting fucked from behind. Especially if they’re in front of a mirror so he can watch his own jaw drop slack and his whole body just utterly melt back against Doc.

[liaromancewriter]

Missing You

Premise: When Max is away, Sienna finds herself feeling insecure and it leads to a surprising revelation.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Sienna Trinh x Max Valentine (M!OC) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 1,800

A/N: I’ve been in a Maxenna drought lately, so I decided to re-read previous works for inspiration. Majority of my text and pic fics covered several months in their relationship, so there’s lots of potential to explore small moments that happen ‘off-screen’. This fic also inadvertantly aligned to prompt 1 & 2 of this list.

Submission for @choicesjuly2022challenge Day 9 prompt “nap” and to @choicesficwriterscreations​ Please Be Prompt week 1: fluff (in bold below).

The ticking of the clock in the middle of the night was loud against the quiet hum of appliances in the waterfront Georgetown apartment. The master bedroom was cast in darkness, shadows from the pale city lights outside barely visible on the walls.

Sienna Valentine née Trinh lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, her disquiet increasing with every passing minute. She turned her head right to stare at the empty space beside her, running one hand down cotton sheets that were cold from absence.

She missed him.

Max had been gone only two days and would be back the day after tomorrow. She had been without him for much longer before. But this time around the loneliness was agonizing and nothing she’d done in the last forty-eight hours had made a dent in it.

Sienna sighed deeply at the morose direction of her thoughts. She had been feeling out of sorts for days, if not weeks, but she had put that down to the lead up to their post-wedding reception a couple of weeks ago.

She fumbled for her phone on the bedside table, took it off the charger and held it up in front of her face. The screen lit up showing a lock screen with the time—2:00 AM—against the wallpaper displaying a selfie they’d taken together last year after she moved in.

Unlocking the phone, she opened the world clock app and checked the time difference to Reykjavik. Before she could overthink it, she switched over to the messaging app.

Sienna climbed out of bed and padded into the walk-in closet. There, she searched through his drawers and then changed out of her nightgown into a shirt that still carried his scent. A few minutes later, she was back in bed and tucked under the covers; she hugged his pillow and let sleep take her under.

Max Valentine bit back a yawn as the doors to the elevator slid open. With the time difference, it had already been a long day for him despite it being almost one o’clock in the afternoon here.

Rolling his bags behind him, he walked past his neighbor’s apartment and inserted the key into the front door. Closing the door, he quickly entered the code into the security panel before it started beeping.

He hung up his coat in the hallway closet, surprised to see Sienna’s red spring coat still hanging in its place. A mid-Spring cold snap had DC in its grip, and she wouldn’t have gone to work without a jacket.

Max hadn’t intended to come home early but Sienna’s texts this morning had worried him enough to change his plans. She didn’t sound like herself and despite her assertions that she was just tired, he suspected something more was at play here. He hadn’t been blind to the signs these last few weeks and wondered if she had noticed too.

Lost in thought, he headed down the hallway towards their bedroom and suddenly stopped when he saw Sienna sleeping on the living room couch; a light-blue afghan that her grandmother had knitted tangled around her feet. She was lying on her side, hands tucked under the cushion, her hair in a braid falling to the side.

He smiled when he saw she was wearing one of his button-down shirts, the sleeves rolled up and the material slightly dwarfing her petite frame.

An overwhelming feeling of love arose as he crouched beside the couch and lightly ran the back of his hand across her cheek. He watched her breathing change as she started to awake, her eyelids fluttering before slowly drifting open.

“That’s it, Si,” he said, amused at how her brows furrowed in resistance. “Come on, love. Time to wake up.”

“Max?” Her voice was gruff and then it cleared as her whiskey-colored eyes flew open in awareness. “Max!”

Sienna scrambled to sit up on the couch even as her arms stretched outward to encircle the back of his neck. He braced one hand and slowly got off the floor, standing upright to enfold her in his arms.

“I love your hugs.” She breathed deep, her face tucked into the crook of his neck and legs wrapped around his hips. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

“I was worried about you,” he said, tightening his hold.

She lifted her head from his shoulder, eyes intent as they bore into his. “I know I should be upset that you had to cut your trip short because of me, but I’m not. Right now, even one more day without you felt unbearable.”

Instead of saying anything, he angled his head to close the distance between them, his lips nudging hers until she parted them for him. The kiss deepened, the heat between them intensifying as her tongue tangled with his and her moans egged him on.

All too soon the kiss ended, and he rested his forehead against hers as they panted to catch their breath. She laughed. “Welcome home.”

Max chuckled and swooped down to place a swift kiss on her lips.

A short while later, Sienna was curled up on his lap as they cuddled on the couch. Max was telling her about his trip after she’d asked him some questions about it. She wasn’t listening to the words, content to just hear the sound of his voice above her.

From the expression on his face earlier, she knew that he wanted to talk about her texts from last night. But he was letting her set the pace. If she was honest, she didn’t know how to explain it. If there was one thing she was sure of it was that he loved her. So, her insecurities didn’t make any sense.

Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes; she knew he could feel them dampen his shirt. She glanced up and realized he’d stopped talking, watching her instead with a considering look in his green eyes.

“Ready to talk about last night?”

She nodded and then shifted her position to face him as she straddled his thighs.

“I am so sorry about what I said.” She linked and unlinked her fingers in a nervous gesture. “I can’t explain it, but my emotions are all over the place these days. Yesterday, I cried for half an hour after watching one of those IKEA commercials. It was a good thing I was at home otherwise…”

She trailed off, shrugging the unfinished thought away.

“Is that why you didn’t go to work today?” he asked.

“No, I wasn’t feeling well this morning, so I called in sick,” she explained. “Between throwing up after a crappy shrimp pasta last night and a sleepless night, I was feeling wiped out. I don’t even remember lying down on the couch, let alone taking a nap.”

“I see.”

“What?” she said, eyes narrowing as he continued to watch her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

For a minute she thought he might not answer, but then his hands framed her face and he peered into her eyes, a soft smile hovering on his lips.

“Do you remember when we went to brunch last weekend and you complained about how bad the coffee was at the restaurant?”

“It was disgusting,” she frowned, remembering how she had wanted to throw up after taking a few sips.

He hmphed. “And the coffee beans we use at home—ones that you absolutely love—were stale even though we just picked up a fresh batch?”

“It happens more often than you think,” she argued, eyebrows snapping together in annoyance at the direction of this conversation. “You’d know that if you actually drank coffee.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “I grew up with a notorious coffee snob. My knowledge of both tea and coffee is unrivaled. Anyway.”

He continued hurriedly when it looked like she might interrupt again. “You’ve been tired for weeks, and it had very little to do with preparations for our post-wedding reception. Today wasn’t the first time I’ve caught you taking a nap at odd times of the day. And your recent aversion to coffee, among other things, was just one more piece of the puzzle. Care to guess the answer?”

He saw recognition dawn in her eyes and then her jaw dropped in shock. She pushed herself off the couch and stood towering above him, arms akimbo. “I am NOT pregnant.”

“You sure about that?” He stood up too.

“I know my cycle, Max,” she muttered even as she mentally calculated dates. She wanted to check the app on her phone but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “Anyway, we’re careful.”

She blushed when he gave her a look that made her realize how absurd she sounded. She was a doctor, a pediatrician at that, and knew more than most that no protection was completely foolproof.

“There’s an easy way to know for sure,” he proposed.

Feeling cornered, Sienna reached up to stab her fingers into her hair, eyes darting everywhere in panic at the thoughts crowding her brain.

“Hey.” He must have sensed her distress because he gently pulled her into his embrace. “Si, relax. We don’t have to do anything right now if you don’t want to. It’s your body and you know what’s happening inside better than anyone.”

She nodded into his chest, holding back tears that weren’t far from the surface. She did know her body and she was very much afraid that he might be right. How could she have missed the signs? Some doctor she was.

By unspoken agreement, they left the topic alone for the rest of the day. Since he’d wrapped up everything on the flight home, he was free for the rest of the day. Sienna took advantage of the situation by dragging him to their bed.

Still, their earlier conversation lingered in the back of her head, and she woke up in the middle of the night with a vague feeling of uneasiness. Her hands cradled her flat belly and she absently wondered if there was already life forming inside her.

Perhaps they were better off knowing after all, she thought. She could pick up a home pregnancy test on her way back from work. Or maybe make an appointment with their primary care physician. Either way, now that he’d put the idea in her head she had to know.

She nestled closer to Max, tilting her head back to check if he was still asleep. His closed eyes and even breathing assured her that he was. Taking comfort from his presence, she shut her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

Her last thought before she drifted off was that she couldn’t be pregnant. And she would take great pleasure in proving a certain future CEO wrong when the test came back negative.

Bonus:

A/N 2: The text message below was originally published at the end of New Experiences, so this fic takes place the day before. The ‘clues’ were there. 😉

All Fics & Edits: @potionsprefect @trappedinfanfiction @bex-la-get @mysticalgalaxysstuff @genevievemd @choicesaddict5 @jerzwriter @rookiemartin @schnitzelbutterfingers @vi-writes-stuff @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @dorisz @zahrachoices @lucy-268 @a-crepusculo @jamespotterthefirst @ofmischiefandmedicine @headoverheelsforramsey @takemyopenheart @gryffindordaughterofathena @queencarb @crazy-loca-blog @natureblooms24

@openheartfanfics​ 

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Okay, folks, time for a quick lesson in "I really don't want my apartment/house to flood silently in the middle of the night."

If you can, go into your bathroom, get on your hands and knees, and locate the water supply for your toilet. Attached to the supply will be a thin piece of tubing. One end will have a metal fastener. One end will have a plastic fastener.

I want you to look that plastic fastener over HARD. Examine it for cracks, dents, and anything else that looks like a warning sign it's about to snap. If you want to be very, very through, turn OFF the water to the toilet and unscrew the plastic fastener so you can really look it over inside and out.

If there is any damage--and I mean ANY DAMAGE--either notify your landlord (If you rent, absolutely notify your landlord and do so in writing), or get your butt down to the hardware store.

Because if that plastic fastener actually BREAKS? And it's the middle of the night? And you're asleep? You may wake up like us and or neighbors on Monday, with THREE FLOORS of flooding (the second floor bathroom in the house above us, the first floor dining room it flooded into once the bathroom was full, and then our basement apartment.)

BTW, the reason you go through your landlord rather than repair it yourself is because if you just replace it, and there's a problem later, and they find out you replaced it, they can absolutely blame you. BUT if you get it in writing that you're making this request (Dear landlord: I noticed that my toilet supply line appears to have a crack in the plastic fastener. Please replace so we can avoid a flood.), and then you HAVE to replace it because your landlord is an asshole, you have the proof you didn't just go about the fix without trying to use the proper channels.

And trust me, dealing with having to play nice with an asshole landlord is still going to save you so much time. Because right now, we're on day three of the post-flood situation, and there's three exhaust fans and a dehumidifer in on 850 sq. foot apartment. And every single piece of vinyl flooring that can come up without taking out cabinets or appliances is up, and we're walking around on concrete. And the bedroom smells like wet carpet, because the carpet got soaked.

Side note: If you ever have flooding to deal with, there are three kinds of water by insurance/cleaning standards in the USA: Clean water (like, if the sink busts). Gray water (any clean water that comes from a toilet), and black water (sewage). If you have carpeting and insurance, the cleaning rules state that in clean and gray water situations, carpet padding is replaced and the carpet itself is sanitized, steam-cleaned, and put back in use. Only in cases of black water does all parts of the carpeting come out.

[girlonthelasttrain]

some time ago I read one of the usual gratuitous outrage posts that said that electric vehicles (EVs) are a scam because they never build them with solar panels to auto-charge, and instead you always have to connect to the electrical grid to recharge

and even putting aside the fact that I seriously doubt a small solar panel covering the roof of a car would be able to make much of a dent in the frankly huge charge capability of an EV, that post didn't take into consideration that connecting a car to an electrical plug is not actually a bad idea? in theory it could solve a lot of the deficiencies of the local electrical grid, especially by supplying a cushion in case of high load days. electrical grids are finicky and complex networks that always have to negotiate supply and demand carefully or risk a shutdown. having thousands of big batteries connected to the grid would go a long way to prevent power outages due to high demand. and virtually every modern EV is pretty much a battery pack on wheels: it can move people around but it can also serve, simply, as a battery, and supply its charge to external use (with the appropriate cables).

and this doesn't work just for the electrical grid but also for the use of singles. there's plenty of stories on the internet where people have used their EVs as emergency "generators" for refrigerators & other appliances during power outages caused by storms (and basically consuming a negligible part of the charge! over days of use!)

I think the skepticism about EVs is warranted in some aspects (I mean they certainly aren't cheap and the mining industry is awful. then again, so is the oil extraction industry) but they are not simply cars, and they can actually do so much for transitioning away from fossil fuels by providing, essentially, a public service (which is honestly is blowing my mind a little, because cars have always been the diametrical opposite of that!). I think that's something we ought to keep in mind.

[grimespearce41]

Components Of The Most Useful Vacuum For Pet Hair

If you've got a particular brand in mind, you have made composing dent with your quest for a great vac. If that's the case, check your local dealers first for sales attempt not to overlook the opportunity for finding a great deal by buying direct for the. To clean carpets down the road . sweep them but wishes hard be effective. A rug can be taken outside and beaten yet this is not a fun goal. The easiest and most labour saving is to try using a vacuum cleaner. How do you perform a stomach pressure? You can either carry it out standing up or even sitting cutting. Exhale all of atmosphere from your lungs. click for more information , expand your chest and bring your stomach in will certainly possible. Suck in your guts. In the way, do not hold your breath when doing these stomach vacuums.Basically, you are trying to have your midsection touch your backbone. It is not possible but totally . be perfecting a stomach exercise that perfect for for some part of your abdominals and perhaps even your stomach. It is a simple exercise. But, do not let its simplicity fool you into thinking is definitely not an efficient exercise for all your abdominals. Preserving the earth . a powerful exercise with no shortage of benefits. Canister vacuums have a retractable electric cord, that is much a lot more than wrapping the cord back neck on the vacuum. Its often times easier to push light weight canister vacuum head as critical pushing a canister style vacuum. Upright cleaners are straightforward to operate. If you want to clean your carpets in a nick of time, subsequent the type can do it in minutes. There are several models that can be folded for convenience and storage. Upright vacuum cleanersare definitely powerful. These kinds of perfect for deep cleaning, and offer numerous attachments for cleaning different forms of surfaces - carpets, wood floors, nooks and crannies, and upholstery and shades. Upright cleaners are more convenient because zero cost courses to do is to push device back and forth. You no longer have include the machine as critical the canister cleaner. One tip to make more convenient is added with an extension cord in order to do not have to replug gear to another location. To avoid this in order to prevent every other damage, practice to make sure the bag before hiring. To be safer, dispose the dirt bag every after a cleaning course. It may cost you more but it is safer that way. For bagless vacuum appliances, you also must not operate the equipment if airborne debris compartment is full. Empty it with the trash bin every sometimes. But in addition to their good looks, Dyson has some serious engineering inside vacuums and pioneered new concepts to address the old-traditional problems of conventional cleaners. Here's a the what makes Dyson vacuums so practical, and why they're today's leading floor cleaners.

[homeimprovement31311]

Fix A Floor

The Importance of a Sturdy Floor

A sturdy floor is the unsung hero of your home, providing a solid base for all your daily activities. From bustling family gatherings to quiet moments of solitude. Your floor supports every step you take. It’s more than just a surface – it’s a foundation that ensures stability and safety in your living space.

For More Information: Fix A Floor

Imagine the frustration of dealing with creaks, cracks, or uneven surfaces underfoot. Not only are these issues annoying, but they can also pose serious risks to you and your loved ones. A well-maintained floor not only enhances the aesthetics of your home but also contributes to its overall structural integrity.

Whether you prefer hardwood, tile, or carpeting, a durable floor adds value to your property and creates a welcoming environment for everyone who enters. So invest in the longevity and comfort of your home by prioritizing the importance of maintaining a sturdy floor.

Common Causes of Floor Damage

When it comes to floor damage, there are several common culprits that can wreak havoc on your surfaces. One of the main causes is heavy furniture or appliances being dragged across the floor, leading to scratches and dents. Another culprit is water damage, whether from leaks or spills that seep into the flooring material and weaken its structure over time.

Pets can also contribute to floor damage with their claws scratching and digging into hardwood or laminate floors. Regular wear and tear from everyday foot traffic can gradually wear down the finish of your floors, making them more susceptible to further damage.

In addition, improper installation techniques or using low-quality materials can result in premature deterioration of your floors. It’s important to address these common causes of floor damage promptly to maintain the integrity and longevity of your flooring investment.

Introducing Fix A Floor: The Ultimate Solution

Are you tired of dealing with squeaky, uneven floors in your home? Look no further – introducing Fix A Floor! This innovative solution is here to save the day and provide a quick fix for all your flooring woes. Say goodbye to the hassle of ripping up tiles or hardwood planks just to repair a small area.

Fix A Floor is easy to use and requires no special tools or expertise. Simply inject the adhesive through pre-drilled holes in your floor and watch as it stabilizes loose tiles or wood boards in minutes. The best part? You can walk on the repaired area immediately after application, saving you time and stress.

Don’t let damaged floors ruin the aesthetics of your space any longer. With Fix A Floor, you can restore stability and functionality without breaking the bank. Get ready to enjoy a smooth, quiet floor once again thanks to this ultimate solution!

[elitehomewarranty]

How Home Warranty Protects You From Catastrophic Losses?

Being a homeowner is exciting, but it can often feel overwhelming. It seems like there’s always something to fix, update, or upgrade. And when we see that kind of dent in our savings accounts, it leaves us wondering how we can save.

Home warranty in USA offers protection for both major appliances and built-in systems, with the possibility of adding optional coverage for comprehensive protection. The process involves reporting a broken item to the warranty company, which then coordinates with a service provider to repair or replace the item, subject to a deductible.

How can home warranty protect us from catastrophic losses?

Let's showcase the advantages of a home warranty in the USA with an example. Imagine a buyer who is keen on buying a property but has reservations about the HVAC system's age. By having a home warranty, the buyer can move forward with assurance, as any possible problems with the HVAC system will be taken care of by the home warranty company. This scenario emphasizes how a home warranty can effectively address specific concerns and offer real, tangible benefits.

Home warranties can add value to your home by ensuring prompt repairs, which benefits both homeowners and potential buyers.

Why not consider DIY instead of professional help on repairs?

While DIY fixes often seem like the best way to save money, the cost of parts (and your time) adds up. Especially if you don’t get it right on the first try.

Instead, you can opt for Elite home warranty in USA because time is money. Compare the cost of having a home warranty vs. paying out of pocket for parts or repairs. For a simple service fee, you could save yourself hours or even days of work on a DIY project.

Also, home warranties can come in handy when integral mechanical systems or expensive appliances break down unexpectedly. And they can be especially helpful for new homeowners or prospective buyers with little or no accrued savings.

In short, a good home warranty in USA can help spread costs.

Which is the best home warranty company?

When it comes to budget protection and peace of mind, it’s important to choose a reliable home warranty company:

With a history of paying service requests.

A good home warranty in USA should cover all of your home’s major appliances and systems, from your refrigerator, dishwasher, oven, stove and garage door opener to your electrical, interior plumbing, water heater, air conditioning and heating.

They should be upfront about your coverage and liability; your contract should be clear, concise and transparent.

It should improve time management – that is put you in touch with the right people at the right time, when a repair is needed.

It should complement your homeowners insurance. Together you can have near complete protection.

Elite Home Warranty has provided industry-leading coverage for homeowners across 48 states and has maintained an A+ rating with the Better Business Bureau. With a hassle-free service request process and plans for every budget, Elite prioritizes customers with the best home warranty in USA.

[thelistingteammiami]

Here's Why You Shouldn’t Max Out Your Budget When Buying A Home

When it comes to purchasing a home, it's easy to get caught up in the excitement of finding your dream property. However, it's important to consider the potential drawbacks of maxing out your budget for this significant investment. By buying a home that is within your means, you can maintain financial stability and preserve the ability to pursue other important financial goals. 

In this blog, we will explore several compelling reasons why stretching your budget to its limit when buying a home may not be the wisest choice. After all, homeownership isn't cheap, and the expenses that come with it don’t just end at the closing table.

Maybe you love to travel but still want to settle roots in one location. Or you want to start saving as early as now for your retirement. Or maybe you just want to guarantee you'll have enough funds in case of emergencies. Buying less house than you can afford means you’ll still be able to free up money in your budget which you can use for your other goals: savings, travel and leisure, emergency fund, college fund if you have kids, and even retirement fund. You don’t want to give up these objectives just to pay a large mortgage payment, ensuring that you have the freedom and flexibility to live your life as you’d like.

If you borrow the maximum amount you can afford, you might find it harder to stay current on your mortgage payments in case your life situation changes. Just think of any of these worst-case scenarios that can happen after you sign the dotted line: you lose your job, take a pay cut, your car breaks down, or you or anyone in your family have had a medical emergency. 

Depleting your savings just so you can buy a bigger home puts you at a greater financial risk in case such things happen. You can lessen this risk by keeping your monthly mortgage payments affordable and ensuring you have an emergency fund that won't leave you financially vulnerable.

While your potential mortgage payments are more fixed than rent and you think you can afford it, remember to give yourself as much wiggle room for rising costs. Higher grocery bills and energy costs, especially if you're moving to a bigger home, can make it harder to figure out a budget that you can comfortably afford each month. Likewise, homeowners association fees and property taxes also go up every year. While no one can plan for inflation, try to leave enough room when you’re putting together a post-home buying budget.

Perhaps one of the things you're looking forward to the most when it comes to having your own place is decorating it to your style and liking. And since most homes don’t have furniture and appliances, you’ll most likely need to buy these big-ticket items, which could dent your wallet. Even things such as rugs, blinds, and other necessary fixtures aren’t cheap. Purchasing a house within your budget will help you afford pieces of quality furniture and decor that will complement your space, as well as durable appliances that will last.

Finding the perfect property is a dream come true until you realize you aren't truly prepared for situations like leaky pipes, pest infestation, tree removal, or even gutter cleanings. If you’ve been renting for a long time before buying your first home, know that you can no longer count on your landlord to come over and fix things. 

Maintaining and improving a home isn’t cheap, nor will it be easy. This is why it’s critical to limit your spending during your home search so you can have extra funds available for any maintenance and repair. It’s safer as well to have a cash cushion for renovation projects after move-in day so you can improve your home to your specifications and enjoy your space comfortably.

Being house poor means you're spending most of your total income on homeownership expenses, including mortgage payments, property taxes, maintenance and repair costs, utilities, and insurance, among others. If you’re living paycheck to paycheck and are having a hard time making ends meet because your mortgage is too expensive, the bliss and excitement of living in your dream home could be short-lived. You will soon find yourself stressed out just thinking about your house-related bills, and having little cash for the occasional splurge or a well-deserved vacation.