Hi!! if you are still doing prompts: Neil overworking himself and blowing out his arms again? and Andrew comforting him? i'm jumping on the angst train. Also i love your writing! it's so nice to read :)
(thank you darlin, sorry it took a while!)
Neil’s vision judders a little bit, like exhaustion is picking him up and shaking him. He can feel the sharp sting of sweat in his eyes and the open wound of his lungs, and the net looks farther away every time he blinks.
“Again,” Kevin calls. “But without your form crumpling in on itself.”
Neil grits his teeth. “I don’t see the point,” he says for the dozenth time. Kevin’s getting him to run drills with his left hand, and missing easy targets is starting to run cold and tedious. It’s a lesson in humility, maybe. Some sort of sociopathic vindication on Kevin’s part.
“You’re only half an athlete,” Kevin replies firmly. “Half your potential is squandered every time you hit the top of whatever box you’ve put yourself in and just accept it.”
Neil twirls his racquet and tosses it from one hand to another. He doesn’t like the weight of it in his wrong hand. His left bicep is screaming at being used so much, and his stronger arm is twitching jealously. He feels like he’s trying to talk without his tongue for no reason.
“If I’m using the wrong arm I’m just making myself a smaller box,” Neil argues. “It’s not necessary. Just because you have a handicap doesn’t mean you should impose it on everyone else.”
Kevin stiffens in the goal, and Neil can see his fingers spasming from halfway across the court.
“Fine. Limit yourself. You’ve never used even a fraction of your potential.”
“Then teach me,” Neil challenges. “Stop trying to prove something about your own versatility and help me hone my strengths. Or do you want to lose, next month?”
Kevin drops his racquet and it makes a wrenching clatter. “I’m going to win. If you’re not going to put in the effort then you can teach yourself.” He collects his fallen equipment on his way out of the court, the tendons in his neck straining the whole time. Neil looks back out towards the outer court where Andrew is watching, sprawled backwards on his hands with his head cocked.
Kevin meets up with him and jabs one hand back towards Neil, speaking in intense sentences punctuated by backwards looks. Andrew accepts whatever he’s saying by refusing to react, his face a perfect balance. Neil tries to watch the shape of their mouths but he can only see Andrew properly, and he’s not talking.
After thirty seconds of one-sided bitching Kevin makes a production of stalking off, and Andrew quietly follows behind. Something annoyed throbs in Neil’s stomach. He foolishly expected Andrew to come and confront him instead, maybe even end up taking his side.
He tightens his grip on his racquet and seethes in frustration, testing his left grip then right, left then right, until the difference feels too huge to be real, an uncrossable gulf.
He remembers detachedly when his now preferred racquet felt impossibly heavy. He remembers when he would rather have seen Andrew gone from the team than in his bed.
He looks back at the bucket of balls and the empty court, and everything tightens up: the muscles in his left arm, the walls of the court, that uncrossable gulf. Ichirou’s warning — the barbed wire around his heart —tightens too.
Prompt:If You’re still taking Taehyungie requests could I get a smut for trying new things and Tae sweet talking her into anal and taking it super slow and gentle and she ends up having the best orgasm of her life?? More love makey anal. Rather than aggressive.
Genre: Fluff Smut
Author: Admin Kaycie
Tags: Clothed grinding, body worship, oral sex, teasing, fingering, anal sex, vaginal sex, etc.
A/N: For @r-e-i-i because I’ve always wanted to write a fic for my fave 太太 😊😊😊 希望你喜欢！！！
the scent that lingers in his soft cotton sweaters,
the smell of the shampoo that he uses, the flavour of the candies that he chews
on while playing his games or while reading a book or when he’s just idly
staring out the window. It’s the taste that you easily find lingering on his
tongue and in his breath when you share a kiss. It’s the coolness that blossoms
in your mouth, one that stays on your lips for a good couple of minutes afterwards.
It’s also the sweet taste of his favourite ice cream, a sugary smell that you can detect in the air now as he takes a seat next to you on the park bench.
“Here,” he says, holding out an ice cream cone out to you.
“Thanks.” You accept it, but to your puzzlement, you notice that he doesn’t have a cone for himself.
“Where’s yours?” you ask curiously. A part of you wonders if he actually managed to finish his entire cone in the two minutes it took to walk back here.
“They ran out,” he mutters rather glumly with a sigh, crossing his hands over his chest and sinking into the bench.
“What? They ran out already?” That strikes you as strange. Sure, the both of you usually come here an hour earlier, but how can it sell out so quickly?
“Apparently,” he answers rather wryly.
“Then what about you?” You know how much he loves his ice cream, and how much he was looking forward to having some earlier in the afternoon.
He shrugs rather insouciantly at that, though you don’t miss the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. He’s quick to mask it behind a stony, nonchalant face, but the subtle show of emotion causes a twinge of pain to sprout in your chest. “You can have it,” he says, eyes darting over to the cone in your hands before darting just as swiftly back to his lap, as if he just laid eyes on something scandalous.
“Just eat it before it melts.”
You blink twice, rather incredulously. Has it not occurred to him… that a concept called ‘sharing’ actually exists?
You give him a pointed stare, and in response, he pushes your hand that’s holding the ice cream cone upwards, aiming to get it towards your mouth.
He misses miserably however, and with you not given enough time to react, you end up with a generous smear of ice cream along your chin.
Summary: The reader hooks up with a guy she meets at a bar one night after she gets to the town where her childhood friend Jess is getting married in a few days time, leading to some unintended consequences…
Imagine your OTP proposing repeatedly at different restaurants to get free food completely the fault of this prompt
“Wait, lemme—okay. Yeah. Go.”
“Don’t do that dewy eyes thing again. I nearly burst out laughing last time.”
“Just shut up and go—the waiter’s coming.”
Dean hastily leans back, fumbling with the cheap velvet box in his palm. Cas is barely suppressing his grin, pretending to be interested in the dessert menu.
The waitress is at the table opposite them, and Dean taps his fingers patiently against his leg. Just a little bit closer.
“You know, I was gonna wait ‘til we got back home, but I don’t think I can anymore.”
Cas looks up, expression of surprise just on the edge of believable.
“Dean?” He asks carefully.
“Dammit, Cas, I can’t stand it!”
Dean throws his napkin down, standing with a dramatic flourish. Heads are starting to turn towards their table, and their waitress is staring at them, her mouth open. Dean fights back his grin. Jackpot.
He drops to one knee, and all around them, surprised gasps and a couple stunned oh my gods echo through the restaurant.
Dean holds up the ring (something they dug out of the bottom of a 99 cent bin in Walmart), adding a hesitant edge to his voice.
“Castiel,” he says gravely. “Love of my life. Will you—will you marry me?”
Cas presses a hand to his heart, his lip trembling a little. (Damn him and those acting classes he took their senior year of college, the fucker.)
“Dean,” he breathes. “Of course. Of course!”
Dean is immediately yanked up in the arms of his pseudo-fiancé, as the restaurant dissolves into a cacophony of whoops and applause. Cas smiles against his lips.
“Nailed it,” he whispers.
“As always,” Dean whispers back. Then he kisses him again, because hey—that was the best part of the fake proposing, getting to make out with Cas in front of everyone.
I’m a volunteer firefighter. Mostly I help handle crashes on a major
highway into a major city because I’m located close by to it. Earlier
today we had a call, it was just a fender bender but the car that was
rear ended got pushed into the left lane and held up traffic. At 4:50
pm. Rushhour. Now listen, I know traffic sucks, I get that. But I worked
my normal 8 hour job and then volunteer to help people who are by and
large having on of the worst days of their life… free of charge. So
when I am setting up cones or flares or whatever on the highway I really
don’t like getting hit by a car flying by at 70 mph. Anyways, today I
was setting up some flares when I woman in a white land rover straight
up rolls over three of my cones and nearly hits me before even putting
her blinker on to try to merge into the next lane (she was trying to get
around an 18 wheeler). Bitch I think not. One of the cones got sucked
up into her wheel well and she rolls down her window to SCREAM at me
that she needs me to get over there and fix it, lol ok sure. I tell her
to pull into the closed down lane and put her car in park. She does so,
loudly complaining to me that she has been in traffic for an hour. (lady
the call came in ten minutes ago, this ain’t my fault or problem.) I
just calmly tell her to pull over and park her car. She reluctantly does
so. I follow her to where she pulled over and walk right up to her
driver side window. Just as she is about to start in on me again I
calmly reach my hand into her car and take her keys. Wide eyes and an
open mouth turn to look at me. “M'am you just blew through a scene of an
accident and nearly hit a firefighter. Please wait right here while I
go get the police officer.” The immediate babble of excuses and
apologies start rolling in. I just smile and walk away. She got a big
fat ticket and a court appearance. Best part is I took my sweet time
going to get that cop, “His name is Henry and he is awesome,” he had to
handle the accident first. Get everyone involved either on an ambulance
or into a tow truck, took a good 45 minutes. How about you merge a
little faster next time bitch!
prompt: jimon + sleeping together and then agreeing to pretend it never happened, but obviously that doesn't work *flails*
hi!! thank you for the prompt i wrote this while i was writing my essay and it was the best kind of distraction
Jace remembers exactly how it happened, because he’s not the kind of
drunk to forget things, and he wasn’t even that drunk anyway; he remembers
exactly how they’d moved, Simon’s eyes full
of promise as they’d kissed, slow and languid and unhurried in a dark corner of
Magnus’ party, and then they’d stumbled into one of the bedrooms; he remembers
exactly how his heart had broken, clinging desperately to this one chance to be
selfish and have what he wanted, and maybe that’s the saddest thing of all.
The memory is burned across the forefront of his mind, of Simon leaning
in and whispering, low, his body swaying slightly to the music why are you here, Jace, I’m not even your
type, man. And it was meant to be a joke, the kind they’re allowed to tease
each other with now that they’re friends, or something like friends-adjacent,
but Jace had been stupid-confident with the low, exhilarating buzz of alcohol
and he’d leaned in closer, too close, and whispered back but you are and Simon had made a low, thrilled noise; he’d pressed
into Jace until there was no space left between them and sealed their mouths
Located in far northwest Sonora, Mexico, the Pinacate volcanic field comprises a 1,500 km2 area of Pleistocene lava flows with over 400 cinder cones and 8 maars.
The volcanoes in the Pinacate are monogenetic—meaning they erupt only once and each have a unique magmatic signature. The field today is part of El Pinacate and Gran Desierto de Altar Biosphere Reserve and is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
The eastern portion of the field—which is accessible by a vehicle tour route—contains the youngest cones and is mantled by an extensive tephra deposit. One of the most impressive features on the vehicle route is a large maar caldera, Crater Elegante, formed 32 thousand years ago in an explosive eruption when groundwater interacted with magma. The caldera measures nearly a mile in diameter and is the largest maar in the field.
The cinder cones are accompanied by extensive basaltic lava flows, some of which form spiky stiff peaks. Due to the arid, desert setting of the field, most of the cones have experienced very little erosion and retain a relatively youthful morphology. Extensive dune fields surround the volcanic complex, providing a stark visual contrast to the dark basalt rocks.
Top image from Dan Lynch, all other images by author
Plot: You finally admit to yourself that maybe, just maybe, you aren’t over Chanyeol yet.
Pairing: Chanyeolx Reader
Time stopped as I stood firmly in place, attempting to do anything but look at the man standing directly in front of me. He was close enough for me to touch him, and oh, how I ached to do so. I had just dreamt of this face, and yet the face in front of me wasn’t the face I had seen in my dreams. His skin looked worn, his hair was shorter and darker than I remembered, and he looked far too thin for his lengthy frame. Before I could stop myself, I slowly reached my arm out to bridge the gap between us. His face looked uncertain, and I saw how his gaze never left the ring on my finger. I took one step, then another, until I was close enough to wrap my arms around him.
I immediately felt home.
Home was Chanyeol, his warm arms and raucous laughter, his velvety voice singing me to sleep. I had missed this feeling more than I remembered. How had I let so much time pass without feeling his arms around me? His worn fingers gently cupped my jawline, and I flinched, but then melted into his rough hands. I closed my eyes and basked in the feeling of his hand on my cheek, his fingers tracing gentle shapes on my skin. I listened to the sound of the waves breaking, the seagulls calling, children laughing over tall ice cream cones.
Chanyeol looked at me as if I were going to disappear out of thin air, and a creeping thought in the back of my mind told me that disappearing would be an excellent idea. I hesitantly pulled away from his caress, and as I did, I felt whatever spell we were under break.
I am engaged. I am going to marry another man. I care about him, I trust him, and I know that my life will be simple and stable with him. I am not in love with Park Chanyeol, not anymore. I was once, and it was the best, worst, most heartbreaking ten years of my life. Those days are long gone. Just standing here in front of him was enough to bring back memories of waiting for someone who wasn’t going to call, who didn’t care enough to be here for the big stuff. I looked at him with unintended spite and finally opened my mouth to speak.
“Chanyeol, what are you doing here? What are we doing here?” His eyes opened wide at the cutting tone of my voice, and he began talking quickly, too quickly. “I have been looking for you for years, and I had just given up, but then I had a dream about you. And I knew I would find you soon, and now here you are, in front of me! God, you have no idea how much I missed-“ I scoffed at these words, interrupting his nervous chatter. “Chanyeol, I do know how much you missed me. I missed you just as much every time you left, every time you hung up the phone, every time I waited for you and you never showed. I stayed up for three extra hours that last night. I made the popcorn, I set up Netflix, I lit candles. I ate every single piece of popcorn myself and watched the candles burn until the wax dripped to the floor. I know what missing someone feels like. And you are the one who caused me that pain.”
He stepped back, shocked, as if my words caused him physical torment. He cast his gaze down, unable to look at me. I had never seen him like this. Perennially happy Chanyeol couldn’t even paste a smile on his face, and I was surprised by how uneasy that made me. I sighed and swallowed, beginning to feel the dark haze slink back over me once again. I spent so many months missing him so much that I could hardly breathe, physically feeling his loss in more ways than I cared to remember. But now, I am okay. I’ve been okay for a long time, and here he comes, with the absolute nerve to interrupt me when I am trying to have a perfectly peaceful day at the beach to myself. No, he was not going to have me back that easy; not that he could have me back, anyway. I couldn’t let this happen.
“Chanyeol, I can’t do this. I’m engaged, I’m getting married early next year. You shouldn’t have come up to me, and I shouldn’t have spoken to you. I really hope you’re doing well.” I felt his hand gently clasp around my wrist, and from behind him I saw his friend Minseok running towards him, shouting his name as he wiped away sweat.
“Listen… I completely understand why you feel the way you do, and I know that I do not deserve a minute of your attention. Minseok and I are staying the night in town, and if you want a drink, or you want to talk, I’ll give you the address to my hotel.” I frowned as he pulled a business card out of his front jacket pocket, and shook my head as I snatched the card from his hand. I walked backwards, not ready to break our eye contact, feeling tears well up in my eyes.
I turned around and started running as fast as I could.
I quickly fished in my beach bag for my keys with one hand while I wiped the tears from my face with the other. God, I really fucking wish I hadn’t seen Chanyeol today. I wish I hadn’t dreamt about him and I sure as hell wish I hadn’t heard his damn voice when I was trying to shower. I was furious; angry that the person I had been running away from came waltzing back into my life as if he had never left. As if I had never made him leave.
I collapsed into my armchair, extremities shaking from the effort I exerted. I should have yelled at him, I should have told him how I suffered without him when he was supposed to be by my side. I needed a dose of reality. I pulled out my phone and dialed Jin Woo. I knew a phone call with my fiancé would bring me back to the way life was supposed to be.
For the first time in our relationship, he did not answer the phone.
I cursed as I threw my phone on my couch in indignation. He was supposed to be the reliable one. He knew what I had been through; at least, the fact that my ex boyfriend broke my heart. I needed consistency. He knew how important it was to me that he answers his phone, and he had done it every single time… until now. ‘I guess even perfect people aren’t perfect, huh?’ I spoke aloud even though I was home alone, with only my cat to listen to me.
I picked up Snowball and began combing her long fur with my fingers. I couldn’t get Chanyeol out of my mind. He was still in my head, still in my skin, and still in my entire being. Distance couldn’t keep him from being the best part of me, the part of me I had been missing since the day I told him to leave. I had only been in his presence for five minutes, and already I was once again consumed with everything about him.
I forced thoughts of my former love out of my life, and thought about Jin Woo. He brought me flowers to our first date, picked me up precisely on time, and dropped me off before eleven PM. In our first spring of dating, he didn’t want to walk through the park after dinner. He said the cherry blossoms had a sickly smell, almost like cough syrup. Where Chanyeol was daring, he was tentative. His life wasn’t consumed by art, or music, or new horizons. Our life was simple, black and white. There was nothing questionable about it.
But there was no excitement, either. If life with Jin Woo was monotone, cocktail parties and volunteer work, life with Chanyeol was in brilliant technicolor. It was a constant adventure, filled with spontaneity. Sure, he wasn’t reliable, and that damn boy couldn’t be on time if his life depended on it. But he was color, and I was greyscale, longing for even a hint of bright blue.
I couldn’t live the rest of my life with this doubt. I put down my cat and walked deliberately to my jewelry box. I carefully slipped the diamond ring off my finger, feeling a twinge of guilt as I shut the box closed.
I stood in front of a dark brown door, palms shaking, asking myself over and over if I were making the right choice. Catching up couldn’t hurt, right? But I needed to be sure. I needed one more sign.
I heard a song emitting from behind the door; a sorrowful song that I knew, somehow, was intended for me. I listened to it and heard the agony behind every note. It sounded like an wish, it sounded like it was begging for someone to hear it. I closed my eyes. I knew without question what I needed to do next. I needed closure, I needed to know why I couldn’t shake this man from my mind. Why I still, after all of the years, felt him so deeply that I ached in every single piece of me.
I timidly reached out a hand and knocked on the hotel room door.
so how would the police force react to cherub Cone flying over their shoulder to look at a crime scene (when he figures out how to fly well)? ((I love these so much btw, keep it up! much love))
he can’t really fly, his wings are the equivalent of a baby bird’s so they’re not very good for that. I guess he somehow convinced everyone that the Professor made this new “invention” (realistic costume wings) and it got stuck on Conan when he tried it… they somehow manage to trick everyone while Haibara is looking for an antidote.
Summary: Based on a carnival prompt, the reader runs the cotton candy stand (by accident) at the carnival. Oak wants to talk to her, but needs an excuse.
Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff. Literally. And like one swear word?
Word Count: 2,550 (I got so carried away)
A/N: I’ve been a little stuck recently with my final chapter of First Impressions, so I used this to loosen up a little, and it turned out great! I hope you enjoy it. This is based on a prompt from sweet, sweet @alexanderhamllton! Love you to bits.
The sixth time
he came up to the stand, you realized it wasn’t just for the cotton candy.
you weren’t even supposed to be here. At least, at the stand. You were supposed to be enjoying a day of rollercoaster
rides and the Starship Arcade with a group of your friends, not handing off
pink candy to bawling kids. That wasn’t even the worst part. It was the
children who thought you hadn’t heard their parent say a clear no to the cotton
candy stand, trying their hardest to bat pretty eyelashes and work out “a
Uncle Theo was
the coordinator of this year’s annual carnival. He had promised a free day pass
for yourself and two other friends, which you were all too happy to accept, but
you should have read the fine print. The moment you had arrived, he had swept
you up, placed you in a scratchy polyester staff shirt and plunked you down at
the cotton candy stand before you could come up with an argument of some kind. The day was dragging out in
waves upon waves of kids tugging their already tired chaperones to the machine
you were trying to keep in check and the six hour shift you had promised your
uncle was dripping by. You had just reached the five-hour mark when a very
nervous, very not a child customer
came up to trade two tickets for a treat.