#and it���s Thursday somewhere

[leenathegreengirl]

You are cordially invited…. 🥰💚💕

(Happy ARC Trooper Thursday! This was totally inspired by @rainydaydream-gal18 ‘s https://www.tumblr.com/rainydaydream-gal18/750754157428916224/the-bad-batch-imagine-a-pabu-wedding post! Go check out her writing, it’s wonderful!)

@legacygirlingreen @thora-sniper @sukithebean @thecoffeelorian @neyswxrld @somewhere-on-kamino @clonethirstingisreal @royallykt @morerandombullshit @burningfieldof-clover @tbnrpotato @keantha

[astrophileous]

The Monday Pursuit

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: The three times Derek tries to find out your name, and the one time he finally gets it. Or, the story of four different Mondays that Derek spends on the pursuit of your name.

Warning(s): shy!reader, cursing, public confrontation (verbal and physical) with a douchebag, verbal and physical threats, talks of killing someone, name-calling, protective derek, a bit of damsel in distress situation, and that's it really. this is just tooth-rotting fluff 💞

Word Count: 4300-ish

Author's Note: I FINALLY POSTED A DEREK ONE SHOT! YAY! I was toying around with the idea of making this a series of connected one shots, each one focusing on the significance of a particular day (tuesday, wednesday, thursday, etc) in the progress of your relationship. does that sound like something you guys would be interested in? tell me what you think! plsss!!! don't forget to leave a LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Derek noticed you on a Monday.

He couldn't count how many times his eyes had swept over you absentmindedly in the past few weeks. None of them ever lasted long enough for him to linger around, but somehow, this particular Monday was different.

It was different because the moment Derek's gaze drifted towards the direction where he would usually find you, he finally noticed that you were gone.

It was ironic in a way, how he only noticed you in the wake of your absence. But somewhere in the ruckus that his favorite coffee shop would whirl into every morning, Derek had begun associating the table in the corner of that place with you.

Even then, when someone else was occupying the seat at the end of his long stare, Derek could picture the scene in his head: your laptop on the table, a cup of steaming hot coffee in your hand, and a serious but adorable crease on the center of your forehead. Those three things stood out from the rest. Perhaps if he had the same eidietic ability as Spender Reid, Derek could list more details about your habits and person. Nonetheless, somewhere in his subsconscious, Derek's memories must have deemed you important enough to keep, and that was all it took for him to wonder what about you was so goddamn special.

His fog of reverie was soon broken by an interrupting voice, "She's out of town."

Derek turned his head to see one of the barristas giving him a sly smile. "Excuse me?"

"The writer. She's out of town."

"Writer?" Derek didn't know that. "She's a writer?"

"On the side. She's in grad school," the barrista said. "She has two books out and another one pending publication. She's in New York right now for a book signing."

The word impressive promptly filled Derek's mind, and judging by the barrista's expression, it seemed that the word had translated unmistakably on his face, too.

"You know, you shouldn't give out someone's information to random people like that," Derek warned.

"I don't usually, but I thought, since you're FBI..."

The surprise in Derek's eyes couldn't be more palpable. "How'd you know?"

"Dude, you've been around a while." The barrista shrugged. "Besides, I don't think she would mind."

Derek frowned.

"She likes you," the barrista revealed once they saw the confusion settling on Derek's face.

"What?"

"She's got a bad crush on you, didn't you know?"

"Uh, no?"

"Huh." The barrista put down the cup containing Derek's order on the counter. "I thought you knew. She was so obvious. I mean, I'm not sure how she hasn't burned through the back of your skull with how hard she always stares."

Flabbergasted couldn't even begin to describe what Derek was feeling. His curious eyes flicked momentarily towards your table before he addressed the barrista again, "She's a friend of yours?"

"Hell yeah, she is." The barrista smiled. "That's why I know she's got it bad for you."

Being admired wasn't exactly something new for Derek, so he struggled to comprehend why the thought of you crushing on him had triggered a wave of heat to travel up and down his body.

"What's her name?" Derek asked, trying to sound casual and nonchalant as he picked up his cup of coffee.

The barrista grinned smugly. "I thought you told me not to give someone's information to a random person like that?"

With that said, the barrista went to attend to another customer, leaving Derek to curse over his excellent ability to dig up his own hole.

You were back in town the following week.

When Derek walked into the coffee shop the next Monday, he immediately found you huddled up in your usual seat. For one split second, Derek saw you looking up from your laptop, your eyes locking with his from across the room. But before he could offer a smile, you averted your gaze as if you couldn't wait to get away from him.

That thought didn't conjure well in Derek's mind.

Derek proceeded to give his usual order and waited by the counter. However, when he saw a plate of blueberry muffin being placed next to his cup to go, Derek glimpsed up in confusion at the awaiting smirk on your friend's--the barrista's--face.

"I didn't order this."

"No, you didn't. But do you know whose favorite dessert it is?"

Derek casted a glance towards your direction.

"Exactly." The barrista grinned wider. "Now, go. It's on the house."

The loud drumming inside Derek's chest should have been laughable.

He was never like this. Derek was always self-assured, especially when it came to flirting and courting, so there really was no reason for him to be feeling like this. But something about you had spiked the rhytmic beating in his chest, and Derek didn't like being out of his element when there was a pretty girl at stake.

Thus, with an ease born out of years of practice, Derek worked to turn on his good ol' charm. The same one that dripped from his footsteps as he sauntered over your table with his coffee in one hand and one special plate of blueberry muffin in the other.

Deer caught in headlights; that was exactly the perfect description to visualize how you looked when Derek finally placed the muffin on the table. The man smirked triumphantly at the knowledge that he affected you just as much as you affected him.

"Hey," Derek greeted almost complacently. "I heard this is your favorite."

"What? I don't.... how did you..."

You stopped speaking altogether, sending a grimace to the direction of the counter--where your friend was working--when you deduced what could probably have transpired

"I missed you last week," Derek added.

If you were abashed before, then you must have been mortified when those words slipped out of Derek's lips. You looked up at him with a gaping mouth, and Derek would have laughed at how precious you looked if he didn't have compassion for your poor nerves.

"I was out of town," you eventually managed to say.

"I heard. A writer, right? You had a book signing." Derek smiled. "That's impressive. Anything of yours I might know?"

Your face contorted after hearing his question. "I doubt it. I'm not big at all."

"I don't know. Book signing in New York? Sounds pretty big to me."

"Not as much as you would expect, to be honest."

Derek didn't know why, but he despised the sound of you downplaying your own accomplishments as if they weren't worthy of being praised. He swore he would assist in changing that tendency if given the chance.

"My name is Derek. Derek Morgan."

"I know."

Derek raised a curious eyebrow.

You cowered shyly when you realized what you had admitted. "I heard you mention it a while ago, when you were ordering."

"And you remember?"

Your bashful expression nearly compelled Derek to cheer out loud.

"Do you need something?" you finally asked, not at all mean or bitter, more timid than anything else.

"Yes. I was wondering if I could ask for your name."

"My name?

Derek nodded. "Well, you see, I wanted to ask for your number, but I figured since I still don't have your name yet, then maybe I should get around to it first."

You bit your bottom lip, seemingly in deep thought as you assessed Derek with soft eyes.

"My name is--"

Just as the answer was dangling on the tip of your tongue, Derek's phone suddenly started to ring. He internally cursed his life for its partiality to bad timings, holding up an apologetic finger as he accepted the call without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hey, beefcake, where are you?" Penelope Garcia asked from the other end of the line. "Hotch just told everyone to be up and running in 30."

"What? I thought the briefing starts in 30."

"He's debriefing on the plane. Another body just turned up."

"Shit. Shit. Okay, fine, I'll be there."

Derek ended the call in the next second, panic clouding his mind to the point that he failed to realize he didn't bid his usual farewell to his favorite tech analyst. In front of him, you were staring with a pair of expectant eyes that made Derek wish he could stop time to spend it by your side. Alas, such power only existed in fantasy, and Derek--frankly--didn't have enough time at hand to pay grievance over that fact.

"I'm sorry."

Your face fell at Derek's apology, even if slightly.

"God, this sucks. I wish I could stay. I haven't even--"

"Derek, it's okay," you cut him off. "Just go."

"But you didn't--"

"Derek." Your hand on the table slid forward, as though wanting to reach out to him but stopped shortly before you did. "I'm always here."

It was such a simple statement. Three small words that carried hardly any weight on their own whatsoever. But strung together, Derek knew exactly what you meant, the real meaning behind the sentence you chose to say.

You can go. It's okay. We'll continue this some other time.

Reeling from your generous understanding, Derek rushed a goodbye before sprinting towards the door. But just as he was about to touch its handle, he span around for one last look, calling out a sentence that he had pocketed safely as a promise.

"I'll see you soon."

Since Derek's last encounter with you at the coffee shop, the BAU had been thrown from one case to another in the span of two weeks, during which Derek seemed to struggle eliminating the thought of you from the depth of his mind.

When a new Monday rolled around, Derek found himself whistling to a favorite tune as he took the morning route towards the coffee shop. The day was a gloomy one, gray and cloudy with a high chance of rain, contrasting entirely with the sunshine inside Derek's chest. In a few minutes, he would finally see you again, and Derek couldn't wait to woo you into agreeing on a date with him as his palm pressed on the door of the coffee shop.

Unfortunately, Derek's movements ceased the moment he stepped into the familiar establishment.

The atmosphere in the coffee shop struck no resemblance to what Derek had associated with the place: warm, safe, and welcoming. Instead, the taste of tension was hot on his tongue, sizzling under the thick silence that had rendered the entire room into a standstill.

In the middle of it all, just a few paces from where the front door stood, Derek had found you.

You were standing with your head down, which wasn't a strange sight considering that you often did that to avoid unwanted attention. But Derek never saw your lips quiver that way before, nor did he ever see your eyes blown so out of proportion in a telltale sign of fright.

Upon a further inspection of the room, Derek realized that he wasn't the only one whose eyes were trained on you. Every patron in the shop, including every worker behind the counter, was staring openly in your direction as well. He was a milisecond away from taking another step when the man in front of you started to scream out of the blue.

"Why aren't you saying anything? Are you fucking stupid?!"

The malicious words didn't sit well with the vituous bone in Derek's body. But it was seeing you flinch from the verbal onslaught that finally made Derek dash forward, putting himself as a shield between you and the insolent stranger.

"That's enough," Derek said as he tugged you behind his back.

The stranger looked up at Derek with an ugly scowl on his face. "Who the hell are you?!"

"If you have a problem, let's take this outsi--"

"I don't have a problem with you, dickhead. I have a problem with her!" Derek extended to his full height instinctively, trying to hide you from the brazen man. "Now, move. This is none of your fucking business!"

"It became my business the second you chose to disrupt everyone's morning," Derek countered. "Why don't you tell me what's going on here?"

"Why don't you ask your bitch, huh? She fucking started all of this."

"Fucking bastard."

Red clouded Derek's vision when he clenched the man's collar in his hand. All around him, the crowd erupted in a chorus of gasps. Satisfaction filled Derek's chest when he glimpsed the hint of fear in the man's eyes.

"I dare you to say one more word about her," Derek seethed. "I dare you."

"Derek." He felt your fingers then, twisting around a portion of his shirt, pulling desperately until Derek loosened his grip on the other man. "Please."

The douchebag stumbled dramatically when Derek finally discarded him to the side.

Derek span around, looking directly into your eyes for the first time that morning. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

Instead of answering his question, you pushed past a frowning Derek, addressing the horrible man whose face was now crimson; either from rage or embarrassment, Derek didn't know. He didn't care.

"I'm sorry, sir." Your voice vibrated in the air. It wavered with a clear sign of tears. "I didn't... I wasn't thinking. I've caused you trouble. I'm sorry. And I apologize to everyone for ruining your day."

With that, you turned around and picked up your belongings that were scattered on the floor before dashing straight out of the door. Derek stared at your back until it disappeared from view.

"You better tell me what the fuck happened here," Derek fumed towards the man.

"You heard her. She fucked up, that's what happened."

"That's not true." A new voice arose. Derek turned his head to see your barrista friend standing behind the counter, their eyes flaming with anger.

"The poor girl spilled her coffee," another voice interjected. It belonged to an old lady who was standing at the very front of the line. "She didn't mean to, but it got all over his things. Then he just started screaming all kinds of stuff to her."

Derek closed his eyes before reopening them again, shooting daggers towards the man. "You're pulling this crap over a spilled fucking coffee?!"

The other man began to stutter. "She ruined important documents!"

"It wasn't even her fault," the barrista added. "He was too busy being on his phone to watch where he was going."

That last piece of information was the last straw for Derek.

He used his forearm to push the douchebag by the throat, slamming his back against the wall until the man gasped for air.

"You will never step foot in here again, do you hear me?" Derek pressed his elbow deeper into the man, stopping only when he started to nod frantically. "You don't come near this place, ever again. But most importantly, you don't come near her. I'm gonna fucking kill you if you do."

Derek let him go afterwards, ignoring the series of coughs that the man had fallen into while he marched towards the door.

"Don't even think for a minute that I'm gonna let this go!" the man shouted just as Derek was about to exit the coffee shop. "I'll be notifying the authorities about what happened here today. You'll see!"

The scoff Derek let out couldn't be more condescending. "Yeah, you do that. And when you do, tell them--" Derek reached into his pocket, pulling out his credentials before flashing it towards the man, "--the name's Agent Derek Morgan. FBI."

He slammed the door behind him.

Once outside, Derek's eyes darted around to find any trace of you in the midst of the morning rush hour. Eventually, he spotted the back of your head, walking away about a few feet ahead of him. Derek broke into a sprint almost immediately, squeezing himself in between the ocean of people, trying to catch up with you before realizing that he most like wouldn't be able to.

Just as he watched you turning a corner, Derek mourned the fact that he couldn't call out to you because he still didn't know your name.

It was the second Monday that Derek didn't see you anywhere in, or near, the coffee shop.

In total, it had been two whole weeks without you showing your face at the place, not even once. Your barrista friend was as clueless about your whereabouts as Derek was. He even had started coming into the shop at odd hours during the day, or whenever his schedule would allow him to, sometimes lingering for a few minutes in the morning just in case he would catch you walking through those doors.

You never did.

In a moment fueled by something akin to desperation, Derek found himself marching towards the office of Penelope Garcia. If there was anyone who could find you--who you were, where you were, and everything else about you--it was going to be the team's tech genius.

The tech analyst wasn't in the room when Derek entered, and as he found himself standing there--alone in the silence--Derek was confronted by how ridiculous he was being.

He couldn't understand why he was acting like this. Why the thought of never seeing you again managed to lure him into considering a breach of privacy. Derek had barely even talked to you, yet whatever brief interaction the two of you had so far was enough to affect him in ways that shouldn't be possible.

Derek decided to turn around and vacant the room before anyone could catch him lingering there like an idiot, but his steps fell short when he saw Penelope standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing here, Sugar?" Penelope questioned, her eyes squinting into a suspicion-filled look.

"Looking for you, of course," Derek lied.

"Derek Morgan, I didn't spend years working with the best profilers in the country to not be able to tell when someone is lying." Penelope walked towards her chair, making sure that she was settled comfortably before swiveling around to face Derek again. "Talk to me."

"Babygirl, there's nothing to talk about."

"Oh my God. It's about a girl."

How the fuck does she do that?

"Derek, you tell me right now every single thing about this lovely creature who has captured your heart, and I meant every single thing. What's her name? What does she do? Where did you guys meet? You guys are official, right? Because if not, then--"

"Okay, Blondie, pump your brakes," Derek interfered before Penelope could vomit the entire content of the Oxford dictionary. "There's no girl."

Penelope frowned. "There isn't?"

"No."

"But you want it to be?"

Derek couldn't give her an answer.

"Mister, you tell me what's going on right now, and don't leave out any details."

So, that was exactly what Derek ended up doing.

He told Penelope about you; about the little snippets of yourself that had infiltrated Derek's subsconscious without him even realizing it, about your first proper interraction where your smile looked more appetizing than the blueberry muffin he had put on the table, and about the incident that marked his last ever encounter with you.

By the time he wrapped the story up, Penelope's face was a heap of reactions.

"You know," the tech analyst finally said, "I can probably find her for you."

"I told you I don't want that, Sweetness."

"But why?!" Penelope nearly whined. "You like her, and her friend said she obviously likes you, too. What if you never see her again? Are you seriously just going to let your story end in what ifs?"

"Of course, I don't want that. But this is not how I want our story to start, too, if there is even gonna be one." Derek gripped Penelope's shoulder, squeezing affectionately. "Thanks for the offer, Babygirl, but maybe it just wasn't meant to be."

For the rest of that day, Derek threw himself into work in order to keep his head preoccupied with something else other than the images of you.

In a few hours, he had successfully completed all of the pending case reports that were piling on his desk. A quick glance at the clock told Derek that he still had another three hours before he was supposed to go home. Sighing, Derek got up from his desk and walked towards the pantry.

"It's been four hours," Derek heard Emily say as soon as he walked towards the kitchenette. "What are they doing there?"

"She could be a reporter. Maybe she's interviewing him," Spencer theorized.

"Who's interviewing who?" Derek asked.

He headed for the coffee maker only to realize that there was no coffee left. Derek cursed under his breath before he went to make a fresh batch.

"Rossi has a guest, and they've been in his office for four hours," Spencer explained.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Really? I didn't see anyone."

"She came in during lunch."

"Huh. A woman?"

Spencer nodded.

"Potential lover?" Derek asked again.

"I don't think so. She's young."

"Unless, he's that kind of guy." Emily smirked.

Spencer frowned. "What kind of guy?"

"I don't think Rossi's like that." Derek chuckled.

"Who is she, then?" Emily questioned.

"Is no one going to tell me what kind of guy Rossi is?" Spencer suddenly said.

"A student, perhaps? A fan? Who knows?" Derek shrugged. "Or maybe you were right. She's here to interview him."

"Oh! Here they come!" Emily exclaimed a few minutes later.

Derek turned to steal a glance at the guest that had captured his fellow teammates' interest. But just as he was about to catch a glimpse of her, Derek suddenly spilled hot coffee everywhere, flooding nearly half the counter until some of it dripped down the cabinets as well.

"Shit." Derek stared at the mess he had made in annoyance. "Fuck me."

"She's really pretty, though," Emily pointed out--no doubt about Rossi's guest--earning an agreeing hum from Spencer.

After he had cleaned up the spilled coffee, Derek ambled back towards the direction of his desk. As he was passing the glass doors to the bullpen, however, Derek saw Rossi standing in front of the elevator, waving towards the person who had just walked inside of it.

Someone who--as Derek realized with a particularly loud thump in his chest--turned out to be you.

Derek was barely able to place the steaming cup of coffee on a random desk before he made a run for the elevator. But just as he reached Rossi's side, the elevator's doors had closed, making you vanish once more from Derek's sight.

"Shit," Derek muttered. "Shit. Shit. Shit."

Beside him, Rossi was staring in open confusion. "Morgan?"

Derek finally turned towards the older man. "The girl who was in the elevator. Who is she?"

Rossi's forehead creased. "Why?"

"Do you know her?"

"She's a fellow crime writer. She was here for a consultation," Rossi answered. "Are you gonna tell me what's going on?"

"Her name. What's her name?"

"What the hell is going on, Morgan?"

"Rossi, come on, man," Derek sounded desperate, but he didn't care. "I just need her name."

Derek barely succeeded in mumbling a quick thank you to Rossi for giving him your name before he rushed straight to the emergency stairs. The entire run down to the lobby was a blur in Derek's eyes. The only focus in his mind was about getting to you.

Once he was outside of the headquarters building, Derek saw you walking a few paces ahead of him in the direction of the parking lot. He shouted your name with all of his might, seeing you stop and turn your body around from the distance, and soon enough, he had managed to close it in a matter of seconds.

Derek was a mess of panting breaths and drumming heartbeats when he finally stood in front of you. The look you gave him spoke of surprise and bewilderment, and Derek relished in the feeling of being at the receiving end of your lovely gaze.

"Derek? What? What are you--"

"I work with Rossi," Derek stated simply.

Your eyebrows escalated in surprise. "You do?"

"Yeah. I saw you earlier with him," Derek continued. "I haven't seen you in awhile."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Derek allowed his eyes to roam over your entire person, from the top of your head to the tip your toes. There was no malice in his stare as he did, just appreciation, and maybe a little bit of longing from not having seen you in such a long time.

"I haven't been to the coffee shop again. Not after--" you swallowed the lump in your throat. "I was embarrassed. I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart."

"You got dragged into my mess. I owe you an apology."

"You owe me nothing. Okay? What happened wasn't your fault. That man was just an asshole," Derek told you truthfully. "You don't have to be worried about him anymore. He's never coming back."

His last statement caused you to lift your head up so fast, Derek was scared you were going to have a whiplash.

"Nothing happened, sweetheart," he elaborated once he saw the panic in your eyes. "I just made sure to let him know that he wasn't welcome there anymore."

The breath you let out sounded eerily similar with relief.

"Thank you, Derek. For everything," you offered shyly. "Please tell me if there's anything I could do to make it up to you."

That last sentence you uttered prompted a wide grin across Derek's face. "Actually, there may be something."

Derek took a step closer towards you then, noting the way your shoulders tensed up from his proximity. His own senses were overcome by everything about you; from the slight parting of your lips, the steady rise and fall of your chest that seemed to be growing more rapid in Derek's presence, and to the sweet plus addictive smell of your perfume.

Taking his own deep breath, Derek forced the words--the same ones that he had been keeping deep inside of him--to tumble freely into the air.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?"

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 13 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

warning(s): derogatory slurs! several of them!

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 12 / chapter 14

It was Friday. The last day of school, the night of the talent show, and just a few days before Christmas. They'd be passing out the candy cane-grams. There'd be some assembly, probably.

Your leg jittered restlessly while you tried to focus on your bio paper. What kind of sadistic fuck assigned an essay on the last day before break? The biology teacher, apparently. He had a superiority complex, you were sure. Allergic to happiness.

Your mind kept drifting back to the photo album. Surely, Regina had it. You'd put it in her locker on Wednesday, so she'd have found it first thing Thursday morning. You hadn't dared to take a peek in her locker, afraid Gretchen would sniff you out again.

Something had clearly gone down between them. Gretchen didn't sit with them at lunch, instead opting for her boyfriend's clique. She didn't seem to fit in too well and Jason didn't seem too pleased to have her there. Karen and Regina sat by themselves, conversing casually.

Cady had been banished somewhere. You'd heard talk Aaron had dumped her. You knew Janis and Damien weren't talking to her after she turned her back on them. Since the whole Kälteen bar shebang and the subsequent smear campaign Regina had doled out, she hadn't been exactly welcome at any table. From what you understood, Gretchen and Cady were on speaking terms, but Karen and Gretchen weren't, but Cady and Karen were. It was all terribly confusing.

You had a table for yourself. Some of your old friends crowded the ones nearby, quite pointedly not sitting with you. You were no longer cool, it seemed. Easier to focus on your paper, you told yourself. The cafeteria was serving chilli today. The slop was slightly too watery and the meat was a mystery, but it'd do. You'd run out of food at home. You'd wanted a goddamn Christmas dinner and a good slab of ham got pricy. Couldn't rely on Mrs George for a feast this time around.

"Hey," Someone called near you. You looked up, surprised somebody was talking to you. A boy, more specifically a jock judging by the varsity jacket. "You good?"

"What?" Your brows furrowed. "Yeah?"

He smiled smarmily. "Cool."

And he walked away. You kept looking as he went, staring after his back. His buddies were looking your way, the same kinds of grins on their faces. That was odd. Didn't bode well.

It didn't take long for you to find out why. The period following lunch was when Damien would be visiting classrooms as Santa Claus, handing out candy canes.

He walked right up to you with a grin hidden under the fake Santa beard, wiggling his eyebrows all the while.

"The whole bag..." He drawled. "Impressive."

Confused, you peered into the sack. A couple dozen candy canes filled it, apparently all for you. You picked one out, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach as well as the snickering of the boys in the back rows.

Dyke. The message was just one word. It was clearly assigned to you, your whole name displayed proudly. Your body went numb, hands holding the candy limply. There was no signature to show who they were from. People were staring at you. Damien had lingered awhile to see what'd been written to you. The grin behind his beard had turned into a shocked scowl.

"What... What do they say?" Cady, of all people, the nerve of her, asked. She was seated a few rows from you.

"Alright, Mr Leigh, thanks for-" Ms Norbury tried to intervene.

"Dyke." You read out loud. Then you pulled out another. "Lesbo." And another. "Carpet muncher." The boys had trouble holding in their laughs. Another. "Queer." There were others you didn't deign to read out loud. Freak. Pervert. Degenerate. Homo.

If not for a few people finding all this amusing, it would've been dead silent in the classroom.

"These were supposed to be checked before handing out." Ms Norbury strode up to you and promptly confiscated the candies. Her face was set, expression severe, as she regarded Damien sternly.

"I- that wasn't my job. I don't know how, how they would've..." You watched Damien try to put it together.

"Well, is it really offensive if it's true?" Dylan, if you remembered correctly, piped up. He was a sporty guy, decently popular but nothing special. Now, though, he might as well have been an A-lister with how utterly low you'd plummeted.

Murmurs spread out around you. Damien and Ms Norbury retreated to a corner of the classroom to figure out how in the hell this had happened. People were looking at you. Your skin was crawling. It couldn't be Janis who told. She was in the same boat as you and she didn't have the power to do something like this. To make the committee ignore hateful messages meant some strings had been pulled. The only other person that knew, that could realistically do this, was Regina.

You bit your lip, closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Okay. You got the message. The album had been too much. This was a sign to stay away, to forget all the sentimentalities you'd had.

"Hey, calm down now, we'll figure this out- hey!" You didn't pause to listen to Ms Norbury when you booked it out of the stifling classroom. You couldn't bear to be there any longer.

You hid in the bathroom. Both hands held against your mouth so you wouldn't make a noise, you cried long and hard. Your breathing was choppy and laboured, and in no time at all your nose was blocked off entirely. Your eyes stung and your vision blurred.

The bell rang and pretty soon people came into the bathroom. You refused to get out, pretending to take the longest shit ever. It didn't take very long for the people coming in to discuss what had gone down in one of the junior calc classes.

It spread like wildfire. You were pretty sure the boys had nicked some of the candy canes from Ms Norbury since you could hear people reading the notes out loud, the rustling of the plastic covering.

"Who even is that?"

"Who cares? A total freak is what she is. Oh my gosh, Steph, do you think..."

"What?"

"Do you think she used the girls' bathroom? She's probably spread her diseases all over the seats! We're all gonna have gonorrhoea!"

You wanted to sink into the ground and never see daylight again. By the time the bell rang again, signalling the start of the next period, the rumours had inflated and grown disproportionately in severity.

Apparently, you were riddled with sexually transmitted diseases, preyed on freshmen and sold them hard drugs, behaved creepily in locker rooms, and had had a stint with Cady Heron while she was still with Aaron Samuels. You guessed that last one had to do with the time you'd dragged her into the janitor's closet to yell at her about the Kälteen bars.

In short, you were fucked. Your life was fucked. You'd hoped, so hoped, that even if you wouldn't get everything you wanted, you'd get some. You wouldn't get a high school girlfriend, wouldn't have slumber parties, wouldn't be normal. You wouldn't be Regina's friend. Fine. At least you could've had a quiet life, gone to community college and worked at the shop, had some buddies, and maybe lost your virginity one day. Not even that now. Not even a little bit of that. Your future in this town was just no longer there. You had nothing. You were nothing.

You skulked out of the bathroom once you were sure there'd be nobody in the halls. You got into your car and drove home. Just as you'd slumped down onto the couch, the house phone rang. Groaning, you went to answer. If it was your dad, missing it would mean there'd be hell to pay.

"Hello?" Your voice was croaky. It hurt to talk.

"Hi, sweetie! You don't sound too good." Mrs George's chirp greeted you. "I assume you had to leave school 'cause of that. I just happened to see you drive by. Rick got called to work last minute and Kylie's got tutoring till late. Come keep me company?"

"I'm not feeling too well, I'm sorry..." You said, holding the phone to your ear while your other arm wrapped around your body. You tried to breathe deep and not burst out crying, again. Your eyes felt swollen shut.

"Oh, I'll come by with some soup, then," She sounded so genuinely concerned.

You bit your lip. Tummy rumbling in its emptiness, you decided now would be as good of a time as any to bite the bullet.

"Actually, uh, if it's not too much to ask, and um- I-" You took in a shuddering breath. "You don't have to say yes, it's totally okay and I'm sorry if this is, like, too much-"

"Sweetpea, just ask." She chuckled.

"I don't have any food. Or, like, I have ingredients for Christmas 'cause I wanted to make dinner for myself, but I guess I forgot I have to eat before then too?" You tried to laugh, but the sound was strained. "Um, could you take me to the soup kitchen downtown?"

You could've driven yourself. You could've, in that you were capable of driving yourself, but with how your vision was impaired, how your body ached with loneliness, and how you weren't sure you wouldn't just impulsively drive into oncoming traffic, you doubted you would've survived the trip.

"No." She said bluntly. You flinched, feeling the refusal like a knife to the gut. "No, absolutely not. We are going grocery shopping and getting you food to last the rest of the damn year. I'm picking you up."

"Mrs George, I don't have money-"

"You shouldn't be spending your hard-earned money like that. Doesn't your dad send you enough to cover utilities?"

"He sends me grocery money. I gotta pay for gas and stuff on my own."

Mrs George's resounding silence spoke volumes of her opinion on that. "I'm coming to get you. I'm buying you groceries and then we're gonna meal prep. Okay?"

"Okay."

When Mrs George saw you, her determined attitude shifted to that of maternal worry. You fought hard not to break down, though all you really wanted to do was curl into her and cry your little heart out.

She drove you to Whole Foods, a place way out of your budget. But she insisted, so there was little you could do. She took you from aisle to aisle, prattling on and on, chatting about this and that. You listened mostly silently, humming here and there.

She picked out a lot of canned stuff, like beans and tomato purée. All that stuff was made to last forever, so you wouldn't always have to buy fresh ingredients. She bought all your favourite snacks, which she somehow remembered. When you commented on that, she just pointed at her temple with a knowing grin. Mothers never forget, she'd said.

Once you were all done, the cart was quite literally overflowing. The total nearly made your stomach drop out of your ass. Mrs Geoge simply flashed her black card and, without even a wince, paid the price. The receipt was, like, three feet long.

Carrying it all to her car was a daunting task, but a worker did come to help you. A young man, probably home from college, was all too eager to carry the bags for Mrs George.

The way he was blushing all the way up to his ears, the way she was amused by him but not receptive, made you think about what Regina had said months ago. You'd been on your way to her nail appointment and she'd gone on a tangent about how women died at menopause.

Mrs George was thriving. She was above it all. Her worth, or mortality, wasn't determined by the men around her. She'd been cheated on, continuously neglected by her husband, and put down by her teenage daughter, and still, she was beautiful. She existed independently.

In short, you were right and Regina was wrong. You saw things how they really were. She saw things tilted to the left, through a warped lens. The confirming of this brought you no comfort, she'd already ruined you and there was no redeeming herself after this, at least not for you.

"Phew, what a trip, right?" She nudged you with her elbow as she buckled her seatbelt.

You nodded along, voice still weak. You buckled in as well.

"I'll pick you up for the talent show." She said as she turned away from the parking lot. "Oooh, we should have a night in. Order some pizzas and slob around the couch. How's that sound?"

"I don't think I should go to the talent show."

"Oh, why's that?"

"Just... Something happened at school. I don't wanna go."

Mrs George frowned and glanced at you. "Honey, you know you can tell me anything. I still think you should come."

"Everybody hates me." You faced the window and crossed your arms. Very mature.

"I'm sure that's not true." She sighed. "I'm not supposed to tell you, but Regina's got something prepared for you. I think you should go see her at least."

Your face twisted in anger. "Something prepared for me- like she prepared something for me today? I don't fucking think so."

"Language." She said and you grumbled. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing. It's nothing." You rubbed your hands down your jeans. "It's not gonna be good. She's gonna humiliate me."

"It's supposed to be a surprise, but I can guarantee that she's not going to humiliate you."

"What do you know?" You turned to her with narrowed eyes.

"I've been hearing her practice, is all." She responded, tone much too light.

You studied her face carefully. "Fine."

She smiled, seemingly relieved. Then, as if to cut the tension in the car, said:

"Oh, and by the way, I'm filing for divorce." With a giddy smile on her face, she blurted it out. You just stared for a while, almost suffering whiplash from the sudden change in topic.

"Uh... Finally." You laughed a little as you said that.

"Yeah!" She laughed with you. "It's been a long time coming. I just needed to sort some things out. Emotionally and financially. I had to get rid of some investments so I wouldn't have to pay alimony."

Your jaw dropped. The Georges were, like, filthy rich. Rich beyond reason, excess income to a ridiculous degree. You'd always assumed it was Mr George's money. How archaic of you.

"I... I kinda wished you'd done it sooner." You looked forward again. She was driving carefully since the snow made the roads prone to ice.

"Me too. The girls... They... I thought that having two parents would be the most stable, safe environment for them. I was wrong."

"Yeah." You swallowed. "Um. Since we're, like, just saying things. I'm, by the way, gay. Like, a lesbian."

"That's wonderful, honey!"

"Yeah." You couldn't say you agreed.

"Should we go get you a haircut?"

"I don't need to look any more butch than I do."

"I don't know, I think you'd look dashing." She feigned light-hearted. "Regina might like it."

"Mrs George!"

Notes: More drama! Yay! Do y'all think Regina did it?

Taglist posted separately. Please comment on the taglist post to be added on there :)

[sodapopwrites]

the first sign of fall chapter six: so start over

college au, the batboys and reader are bartenders, also the guys play hockey

pairings - eris vanserra x reader, azriel x reader

summary - things slowly start to mend after eris talks to his brother, and azriel talks to you.

word count - 3k

a/n - sorry this took me so long to write!!! i was super busy, i just moved and had to get all my voter registration stuff in order before tonight! i hope this brings a little distraction from the dreadful anxiety of election day. it certainly worked a little for me. also guys theyre starting to work towards happiness. i think when the series is done i might write blurbs for it. because her and eris make my heart hurt a little. anyways i hope you enjoy!

read the rest of the series here!

 Eris couldn’t get you out of his head. He had tried, by taking that girl to the halloween party instead of you. But now. The idea of forgetting you was almost laughable. Your words echoing through his ears constantly. 

I miss you. 

You missed him. You had Azriel in the palm of your hand and you missed him. He thought of your flushed cheeks and your tousled hair. The bite mark that had been fading from your skin, the way you had brought your hand up to cover it the second he noticed it. The way Azriel had leaned against the porch rail and nodded at him. A silent bow out. Eris wondered what exactly you had said to him to make him give up the chase. What exactly the two of you had discussed. Whether it was a fight or a teary eyed goodbye. He couldn’t make himself not care. About any of it. About how he wished he could have wiped the tear tracks from your face. About how he wished that he could have smoothed every crease of worry from your skin with a kiss. But he couldn’t. Not then. But now? He didn’t know. 

He was walking to campus now. The leaves almost fully fallen from every branch. The harsh sterility of winter starting it’s approach. It felt like he was retracing steps. Steps he had once taken with you. Like his feet were leading him somewhere that he wasn’t fully aware of until he stopped outside the coffee shop you so often frequented. He looked through the slightly fogged windows. Towards the window booth you and Lucien so often liked to share while you studied. You weren’t there. It’s not like he was surprised, he knew you worked thursday evenings anyway. But his brother was. Lucien sat alone at the table. Flipping absent mindedly through the pages of an all too large book, that he was probably reading for brownie points more than anything else. Eris looked at his feet, as if trying to will them to take him somewhere else, before he sighed and pushed open the door of the coffee shop. 

He made his way to where his brother was sitting and wrapped his knuckles on the table. Lucien sighed and looked up. Shooting his elder brother a nonplussed look before letting his book fall closed before him. He leaned back in his chair, looking Eris up and down, and crossing his arms. 

“You look like shit.” 

“You know for someone that used to copy the way that I dress that’s a wild thing to say to me.” 

Lucien scoffed, “I didn’t copy the way you dressed, I was forced to wear hand me downs for a ridiculously long time….which is funny considering that our family could have afforded to buy me new clothes.” 

Eris smiled and shrugged, “Maybe it’s because you were dad’s least favorite.” 

Lucien frowned a little and shrugged, “I’m gonna let you be rude to me only because you’ve clearly let yourself go.” 

Eris let out a deep sigh and leaned back in his chair, almost perfectly mirroring Lucien’s stance. The brothers studied eachother. Neither of them saying anything. Eris chewing his bottom lip, trying to find a good way to phrase what he wanted to say. A good way to bring you up without making it seem like it was the only reason he was talking to Lucien. As if on cue Lucein let out a small laugh, leaned forward, the legs of his chair clicking loudly against the floor, 

“She’s not doing great either.” 

Eris let out another sigh. He didn’t want you to be doing poorly. He wanted you happy and content. Really he did. But there was some comfort in Lucien’s admittance. Some small relief that maybe you were just as unhappy being apart as he was. But the grimace that rippled across his features was evident nonetheless. Lucien continued at the pained look on his brother’s face, 

“Really. I don’t think she’s brushed her hair in a couple days. I’ve never seen her look this disheveled on purpose. She stopped coming to class.” 

Eris looked up at this, “I don’t want that.” 

“I know you don’t.” Lucien paused and rubbed his hand over his eyes, “Maybe you should talk to her.” 

“And say what Lucien?” 

“Well I heard that she uhm…somewhat bared her soul to you.” 

“She was drunk.” 

“I don’t think she was. I think most of the alcohol was vomitted up before she managed to actually talk to you.” 

He was right. Eris thought about the horrifying clarity behind your eyes when you had spoken to him. Your words soft and quiet, like you were almost ashamed to say them at all. Like you were embarrassed to admit that you had any doubts, any fear, at all. 

“I don’t know if we can go back to the way it was.” 

Lucien shrugged, a real, heavy shouldered shrug, and ran a hand through his hair. He opened his book again and said, without looking up from the pages, “So start over.” 

★ ★ ★

You and Azriel worked in silence. Diligently keeping up with the flow of customers, parrying snarky comments from Cassian, and handling the mountain of dirty glasses Mor would dump on the bar’s doorstep every couple minutes. It was good to be busy. You didn’t have to think about anything when it was busy. You could work steadily and make other people happy, without having to think about any of your own shit. You didn’t have to think about how you were falling behind in your classes, or the pained look in Azriel’s eyes everytime they fell on you, or the general hushed tones your friends were speaking to you in. Like you were a dog that had just come back from living on the street. Like you were something to mend slowly and carefully. Something they were scared to kick while it was down. 

“You wanna take your fifteen?” 

It was the first thing Azriel had said to you all shift. The silence and synchonization you two fell into finally benefiting you. You shook your head and tilted your chin in a motion that said why don’t you take yours. There was a lull in the rush. Finally. So he did. Tucking his apron under the counter and nudging Cassian as he walked towards the door. Cassian followed after shooting you an apprehnsive glace, as if worried that you wouldn’t be able to hold down the fort. A completely unfounded concern. But now? You looked like you hadn’t slept since Halloween and it made him nervous. But he followed Azriel out anyways. Not wanting to ask you if you needed help for fear that you’d bite his head off at the insinutaiton. 

Cassian watched Azriel pace up and down the street. His palms pressing into his eyes as he did so. 

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” 

“Why do you only like me when I’m sad?” Azriel looked to his friend while parroting your words. He had been saying them repeatedly to Cassian for the last week. Cassian refusing to really talk about it, this was something he thought Azriel needed to come to terms with on his own. But now. After eight days of this being the only thing Az was able to talk about…he finally cracked, 

“Well…Why do you only like her when she’s sad?” 

Azriel started at him. His arms dropping to hang limp at his sides. He looked dumbfounded at Cassian’s question. Like he never expected that. He should have. But he didn’t. He hung his head and resumed his pacing. 

“I don’t know.” 

Cassian huffed a breath of complaint and crossed his arms. 

“I think…It’s because, as much as you don’t want to admit it, sometimes you like playing the hero so much that it makes you a villain.” 

And with that Cassian turned on his heel and went back inside. He had been doing that alot lately. Dropping bombs and then leaving before Azriel could really respond. It was driving Az crazy. Cassian of all people should not be the one putting him in place. Their dynamic suddenly switched. Nothing in his life at this moment felt the way that it should. 

He slumped down. Sitting on the curb, pulling a cigarette from his coat pocket and trying to enjoy one small peaceful moment before going back to work. But he heard the door creak open, fully expecting Rhys to come reprimand him now, he didn’t turn to look who was approaching him.

You sat next to him. Curling into yourself slightly. Your arms wrapping around your bent legs to shield you from the cold and from the conversation you had steeled yourself into having. He finally looked towards you, a little surprised that you were there in the first place. You spoke first. Like you always did. 

“I’m sorry. For the other night.” 

He started shaking his head before you could even finish talking. “You don’t have to be sorry. You were right. I have the horrible habit of trying to save you from good things.” 

“Well I know I was right. But I didn’t have to say it like that. Like you were the only one to blame.” 

He sat with the words. Rolling the cigarette between his lips as he thought, 

“I want you to be happy.” 

“I know” you whispered like you didn’t really believe it and he pushed forwards, 

“No. I want you to be happy. I want to see it happen and I want to see it stay.” He paused and heaved in a deep and settling breath, “Because we’re friends.” 

“We’re friends?” 

“I think it’s what we’re best at.” He scrunched his nose a little as he said it. Almost teasing. Like maybe it wasn’t too soon to make jokes. Like they could start to rebuild from here. You didn’t say anything in response. But you smiled, strained and tired, but a smile. So he kept talking. For once he needed to keep talking. 

“The reason I never said anything the first time. After you left. Was because I thought you didn’t want me to. I thought I was saving you from something. Believe it or not…I was also scared. That it didn’t mean anything. And at the time…maybe it did. It probably meant everything. But now? It’s been so long and I..” 

He leaned back, resting his palms on the cold damp concrete of the sidewalk, letting the sting of it set his nerves and solidify his ground, “I wasted my chance and now I think you need to take yours. Don’t stay silent again because you’re scared.” 

“We both wasted our chance. It wasn’t just you.” Again that hushed tone. The hurried flow of your words, like if you didn’t get them out as fast as you could, you wouldn’t get them out again. 

“I think it’s for the better.” 

You stared at eachother now. A silent understanding passing between you. A settling warmth. A forgiveness that’s been long awaited. The silent turmoil of the last two years of your friendship finally starting to ease it’s way back to a steady rhythm. 

“You should talk to him. Again.” 

It was your turn to shake your head in defeat. A motion that seemed to be very popular lately. Something to share with just about everyone you knew. 

“I don’t know if he ever wants to hear from me again. If we can ever go back to the way it was.” 

Azriel let out a huff of laughter and stood up, brushing himself off as he did so. He offered you a hand and hauled you to your feet. He grasped both of your shoulders and said very seriously, 

“So don’t. Start over. Do it better. You can save this one.” 

★ ★ ★

You were walking home from work. Trying not to let Azriel’s words go to your head. You can save this one. You weren’t paying attention to where you were going. Your eyes trained on the lights that illuminated the worn brick of the road. The golden illumination from storefronts and restaurants casting a warm glow over the red cobblestone. You zoned out a little as you passed your favorite coffee shop. Inside the employees were putting chairs on tables and sweeping up. The smell of coffee and baked goods still wafting out the half open door. It wasn’t until you ran directly into someone, your book and phone clattering to the pavement, and your bag swinging off your shoulder that you really started to pay attention. You leaned down to pick up your things. Muttering your apologies. A large freckled hand came to rest over yours as you scrambled to pick up your book before the thin glaze of rain on the sidewalk started to seep into the pages. A hand you knew all to well. Accompanied by a smell that overwhelmed your senses. Vanilla and roasting almonds. Firewood and burnt sage. It was like an assault on your senses. The softness of his skin, interrupted only by the small calluses left there from his hockey stick. The fiery brush of his hair over his forehead, his amber eyes burning their way through yours. 

You rose together. Standing straight wouldn’t stop him from towering over you. His smile soft and tugging at the corners of his lips. He looked good. Tired, dark circles under his eyes, hair out of order, his sweater crumpled and wrinkled more than he’d ever let it be normally. But the warmth of him. That was there. His eyes no longer cold and guarded. They were searching and alight with a strange sort of mischief.  

“You should really watch where your going.” He was quiet as he spoke. Teasing in tone. 

You nodded a little shakily, “Yeah. I uh. I probably should.” 

“I’d hate to see a pretty thing like you run into a lamp post or something.”

A pretty thing like you. Something he hadn’t said to you since he first started hitting on you. Something he hadn’t said since he didn’t really know you. You didn’t know how to respond. So you, almost unconsciously, nodded. God I must look so fucking dumb. It was the only thing you could think. You were surprised he had stopped to help you at all. Surprised he was even here. He only ever came to this coffee shop when he was looking for you. 

“Eris.” He said it so casually. Like it was the most natural thing to do. Reaching out to shake your hand. Without thinking you introduced yourself in return, grasping his hand as he shook it. No questions. Like it was the only thing to say. The only thing to do.  A grin started to spread across his face as he said, 

“You know. You should let me take you out some time. Protect you from any incoming road blocks.” 

He was looking for you. You realized it just as you were hit with a small wave of confusion. He was asking you on a date like he didn’t know you at all. He was starting over. Like something in the universe had given him the same inclination that you were given. Starting over. 

“I uh…I’d like that.” 

He nodded and brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, “Good.” He whispered as that small fox like smile stretched it’s way further across his features. His freckles scrunching slightly with the bridge of his nose. He tucked his hands in his pockets as he started to turn in the direction of his house, the dead opposite direction of yours. He took one step before turning back around, 

“We’ll talk?” 

“We’ll talk.” You answered as fast as you could and with a small affirming nod. He mirrored the movement, pursing his lips as he did so. You looked at eachother briefly before you started to walk away. 

He watched as you did. Watched the way your shoulders relaxed a little and you ran your fingers over the hair he had smoother moments before. 

“I miss you too.” 

He called after you. You shot him a small smile over your shoulder, but didn’t say anything back. 

We’ll talk.

taglist:

@tiredsleepyhead @rosewood-cafe @kristijenner19 @becstersworld

@the-sylver-dragon @scarsandallaz @fairydustblossom 

@lupinswolfsbanes 

@theflowerswillbloom @melsunshine @mad-katsuki @lilylilyyyyyy @blueeeeeshark

@tolietpaperwater @redr0sewrites @acourtofbatboydreams @hextech-bros

[chrollogy]

v. MISUNDERSTANDINGS

miya atsumu x f!reader

series masterlist

synopsis: A drunken conversation with Atsumu leads to a cascade of events that has your mind practically exploding with endless questions, and with the way Atsumu has been acting, you want clear answers, and you’ll get them one way or another—even if it meant arguing in the twins’ shared apartment on a late Thursday afternoon.

chapter content warning: college au, mentions of alcohol use, intoxicated characters, cockblocker suna (rip), angst, hurt/comfort, awkward tension, atsumu & reader are dumbasses, arguing, light smut (mdni; nothing too explicit), nsfw, implied unprotected s*x, fluff towards the end yay, kita graduates from uni!, mutual pining, slow burn, requited unrequited love, friends to lovers, not beta read.

word count: 6.1k

notes: AAACKKKK last chapter!! also happy 1 month to this series !! i’m surprised i got to finish this in less than 2 months lmao considering how slow i am w writing :< divider: cafekitsune.

Light. Everything felt light—your head, body, voice, heart.

It felt like all the weight of your shoulders had been lifted, and you could be as carefree as a bird soaring through cerulean skies to be one with the wind. Because right this very moment, nothing mattered at all, not even the fact that you stood before the person you’ve been trying to avoid since the new year rolled around.

Tucked neatly at the back of your mind like a silent reminder, you knew you shouldn’t trust your intoxicated self right now—whether it be your thoughts or feelings but the urge to stop wasn’t there, and you felt extremely optimistic about this—all thanks to the burning alcohol that clouded every bit of your judgement.

Everything felt right.

As you met his caramel gaze, your vision tunnelled, everyone, and everything that surrounded both of you slowly turned into nothing but a mix of hazy hues, upbeat music that spilled from the speakers fading into the distance as you, and Atsumu entered your own world—even the orange-haired male with the bright, doe eyes melted away from your view.

Just you, and Atsumu, exactly how it was supposed to be.

With a bated breath, Atsumu wordlessly nodded, and awaited your next move, as if shackled in a hazy trance. He was fully aware of the thundering heartbeat that rang in his ears, the way his slender fingers ever so slightly dug into the scarlet plastic cup in his hand, cheeks burning with unexplainable emotions.

“Let’s talk somewhere else.”

It took all the effort for Atsumu to ignore the feeling of your bare skin against his, the searing touch of your fingers around his wrist as you hurriedly whisked him away into the intimate space of their kitchen, as if to shield you both from everyone else’s prying eyes. Despite a stained judgement, the blonde was sure no one gave a single damn if you were to talk it out in the living room, everyone was in their own buzz anyway.

Nonetheless, Atsumu let you take the lead, whatever you wanted, he obliged. As though he was floating on cloud nine, his body became lighter with each step taken, head lightly spinning, warmth that radiated from your palm seeped into his flushed skin, prickly, miniature kisses engulfing his body.

“I’m okay now.” Resting your lower back against the ivory granite countertops, you stare up at Atsumu through your lashes, not noticing your lingering fingers curled around his wrist. For a brief moment, your breath hitched, stomach churning at the sight before you. The lighting behind Atsumu made him look like absolute heaven, flaxen strands glowing like the first rays beneath the warm illuminant, casting an ethereal halo at the back of his head. It didn’t help how he stared down as if your eyes held the cosmos in them, completely awestruck.

Whatever, you chalked it up to his intoxicated state. What else could it have been?

For a brief moment, Atsumu wracked his brain for context behind your words, and as the invisible lightbulb atop his head switched on, he was reminded of the situation at hand. It definitely pulled his consciousness into sobriety. Just a tad bit.

“A-are y’sure?” A breathless, almost dainty whisper slipped past his rosy lips. He took note of the way your gaze shifted ever so slightly downwards, eyes crudely lingering on the plush of his bottom lip as his tongue briefly swiped against it.

Atsumu’s Adam’s apple bobbed at your not-so-subtle stare, stomach churning with want. He knew this feeling all too well—it visited him whenever he was alone in his room, mind wandering over to thoughts of you which filled every corner of his mind; sometimes the feeling was too strong, other times he could bear it. Tonight, though, Atsumu wasn’t sure if he was immune to this feeling, let alone erase any impulsive thoughts from his intoxicated mind.

What pulled you into this decision was something you’d never figure out; maybe it was the fact that your yearning heart grew tired of the icy distance between the two of you or maybe you’ve truly come to terms with his unreciprocated feelings—you didn’t know. All you knew was that nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations, especially when it involved feelings. But this could be an exception, right?

“So . . Does that mean we can be friends again?”

It was weird. Atsumu’s voice brimmed with a sense of hope—as if he’s been waiting for this very moment for the past two weeks—but the strange glint in his caramel eyes betrayed the blonde entirely.

Despite your better judgement, you chalked it up to the warm light that casted a soft shadow upon his features; maybe you were too dizzy to see things clearly, or maybe you were looking too deep into Atsumu’s expression—hoping to find some sort of sadness upon hearing your decision to move on, and accept his rejection.

Atsumu watched as your eyes traced his features, closely observing them as if to find some kind of answer; as selfish as it seemed, the intensity in your eyes gave him a tinge of hope that perhaps you could let yourself pine over him just a little longer because he wasn’t sure what he’d do with the knowledge that your heart would no longer yearn for him.

The situation was a double-edged sword, really.

You let out a puff of breath, “Yeah, of course. We’re friends again.” Friends. That word should have given you more relief than sorrow but could you really blame yourself? It felt like a bitter reminder of cold rejection which resembled salt pressed against an unhealed wound, a searing itch that left your skin feverish.

Even if it meant selling yourself short.

Avoiding his eye contact, you swiftly unwound your fingers from his wrist, mentally cursing yourself for not noticing any sooner. A cold embrace engulfed Atsumu’s wrist, where your fingers were mere seconds ago, he tried his best to ignore how his body yearned for your warmth. He gave a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

For a moment, you stood in each other’s silence like two predators sizing up one another, eagerly waiting for one’s move before pouncing, the silent hum of the fridge making up for the lack of conversation between one another.

How strange, this agreement should have cleared the unsettled air between you, and Atsumu but why did it feel like the complete opposite? As if the air turned into something more uncertain. You both knew you could feel the uncanny tension rising up, up, up but not one dared to address it.

Swiftly burying it under the rug, Atsumu spoke, thinly slicing through your trance, “You’ll find someone better.”

God, he must’ve really matured this new year because he didn’t know how he was able to say that straight to your face. Being one to wear his heart on his sleeve, this was completely foreign for Atsumu—or maybe he just got better at masking his true emotions.

You closed your eyes upon hearing his response, as if doing so would help you brave the weight of his words. It didn’t. That was the last thing you wanted Atsumu to say to you, ‘someone better’, it was brazen of him to think so poorly of himself, as though he wasn’t that certain someone. It was entirely unfair on your end because who was Atsumu to determine which person was for you?

Even just thinking about it had you fuming, rejection was one thing but completely disregarding the reason behind your feelings for him was another because in your eyes, Miya Atsumu was that ‘someone better’; he was the one who understood you the most, the one who always looked out for you, the one you fucking wanted.

And despite your mind telling you to nod along, and suck it up, the alcohol in your body was stronger; so, you opened your eyes, and furrowed your brows at him,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“But I don’t want anyone better, Tsumu. I want you.”

Atsumu’s eyes widened, the desperation in your voice was something he hadn't heard before, it definitely pulled at his heart, guilt gnawing at his skin for being the sole reason for your drunken actions. He may be drunk but he wasn’t stupid, Atsumu knew you should’ve kept that one to yourself, he could practically see you brimming with temerity but he’d be lying to himself if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat or two.

I want you, too. God, he wanted to say it back badly. The words were lodged in his throat, unable to slip past his lips despite the best efforts to do so.

It dawned on him—right then, and there—the severity of your feelings for him, the immense weight of it. Now, guilt really ate him away; he could only imagine how the past two weeks were for you. Did you cry while thinking about him?

That was the last thing Atsumu wanted.

Though, amidst the guilt, something else blossomed in his chest, it made him feel like he stood upon the highest pedestal. Atsumu didn’t know whether it was pride or greed; as fucked up as it was, he couldn’t bring himself to push the impulsiveness away as though you’ve infected him with your own. His heart hammered at a thought that formed in his mind, even just thinking about it stirred his chest.

Despite Atsumu’s better judgement, he held onto the feeling with a tight grip, and opened his mouth, tongue nervously swiping at the bottom lip,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“Is . . Is it bad that I really want to kiss you right now?”

You sucked in a breath, heart pounding at Atsumu’s sudden confession. If you were sober, you’d have a million thoughts racing through your mind right now, questioning the feelings he really had for you but unfortunately, only one thing was on your mind—how badly you wanted to kiss Atsumu too.

Dragging yourself further down, down, down the void of uncertainty, you shook your head in a daze,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“What if I say I want to kiss you, too?” 

Barely audible but Atsumu heard it just fine over the pounding of his heart, over the incoherent conversations beyond this kitchen, over the muted bass music because as long as it's you, he’d always listen, even if it meant drowning out the entire world.

Then, there was a heartbeat, a passing second, a dip of a finger to test undisturbed waters; the funny thing was that even a minute disturbance could cause a ripple effect for miles, and miles, awakening the dormant creatures that lay beyond the azure surface.

It was swift, as though Atsumu had been waiting for this very moment to happen—one second you were locked in a trance, the next his lips were pressed against your own, a shared warmth of intimacy searing both bodies in an eternal blaze like a blue flame that dangerously destroyed everything in its path.

Shy. Warm. Soft. Rosy. Like it was meant to be. The list could go on, and on but it was as though your thoughts came quickly before your mind could register them, leaving you in a white, empty haze. With the plastic cups long forgotten on the counter behind, you closed your eyes as Atsumu’s body eagerly pressed against yours, strong arms coming up to rest on the granite countertop behind you, fingers digging into the material to ground himself.

For a moment, everything was still, lips unmoving against each other, a time to bask in this newfound intimacy—the foreignness of one another’s body. The earth felt like it spun on its axis way faster than usual, as if day, and night merged to become one; hues of late dusk, and early dawn intertwined like your bodies.

Bitterness from Atsumu’s rosy lips lingered on your own; you never liked the taste of beer but oddly enough, you didn’t mind it at all.

Your hands cupped Atsumu’s jaw, fingers gently digging onto his soft skin, eager for more as your lips moulded together. Slowly moving his mouth against your own, you followed suit to match the sensual pace he had set, falling deeper, and deeper between the hazy boundaries of friendship, and something a little more. Low whimpers slipped past between each feverish kiss as a drunken greed gradually controlled your bodies.

The initial softness of the kiss dissipated as each second passed, slowly turning into something more carnal, and passionate—breaths becoming heavier, and faces eagerly pressed against one another, angled in a way to grant more access.

Was this what cloud nine felt like? Exhilarating? Euphoric? As though there was no one else—

“Oh!—Holy shit. Did I interrupt?”

A familiar voice violently pulled you, and Atsumu back into reality, swiftly jumping away from each other’s hold, and looking over to the owner of the voice. Suna. The brunette stared at both of you—looking like a deer caught in headlights, chests heaving—his expression was unreadable, almost like a mix of shock, and amusement. You, and Atsumu kissing in the kitchen was absolutely not in his new year bingo card.

Well, this encounter certainly was enough to strip you into sobriety.

Your head spun a little, lungs severely deprived of oxygen. Shame, and realisation settled deep in your bones—shame because Suna just caught you, and Atsumu almost sucking the soul out of each other, and realisation because everything about this whole situation was so wrong; a million questions formulated in your mind as each awkward second passed.

On the other hand, Atsumu was equally as horrified, albeit annoyed that he didn’t have the chance to kiss you longer. The thrumming of his heart pounded in his ears, his mind trying to come up with anything to say just to stop the thoughts formulating in Suna’s mind—oh, he knows that look on his friend’s face very well.

Your view became obstructed by the expanse of Atsumu’s back, a subtle attempt to block you from the brunette’s gaze.

“W-what the hell, Suna?! Don’t jus’ barge into the kitchen, ya scrub!” Atsumu tried his best to act tough but miserably failed with the shakiness in his voice betraying him.

As if to make matters worse, Suna didn’t back down, a smug look painted on his flushed face as the blonde shamelessly blamed him,

“Well, how was I supposed to know that you two were sucking each other’s faces in the kitchen?!”

Did he have to word it like that?

Atsumu opened, and closed his mouth, trying to think of ways to deny Suna’s accusations but his mind went blank, even with just the brunette mentioning your kiss had him blushing like a mad man. Silence yet again occupied the kitchen, low bass music spilled from the speakers, and incoherent chatters from beyond the space making up for the lack of conversation.

Before the situation could get even more awkward, you spoke up, “I . . think I’m just going to go . . ” This gained both their attention, carefully watching as you navigated past Atsumu, and out the kitchen.

The blonde watched as you staggered past him, and Suna; he wanted to go after you, and talk about what just happened but the soles of his feet stayed rooted on the ground, too heavy to lift, even the words he wanted to say were lodged in his throat.

So, Atsumu decided it was best to let you go.

Monday. 

Everyone’s enemy but also a day to gather around the campus coffee shop with friends, and be productive for a while. The calming aroma of coffee engulfed your senses; low chatter from other customers, faint jazz music, and the occasional hum of the coffee machine filled the table from the lack of conversation. Despite the café’s light ambience, it didn’t do much to hide the growing tension that surrounded the group, specifically you, Atsumu, and Suna.

Kita was the first to notice the subtle shift of aura that emanated from you three, especially after catching a glimpse of Suna’s narrow eyes trailing from you to Atsumu over his laptop screen; though, he had much more things to worry about than to indulge himself in whatever tomfoolery this was. He’d ask questions later.

On the other hand, Osamu was more than curious, especially after his older twin started acting out of character—Atsumu wasn’t one to engulf himself in thoughts to the point where he’d be staring at an inanimate object, in a complete daze but lately, Osamu has seen him behave as such.

The latter could practically feel the weight of awkwardness pressing against his skin as he subtly watched the three of you. Of course, he did his best to pry off information from the blonde only to no avail; Osamu didn’t know why Suna was even caught up in this but he suspected it was from the party a few days ago.

He remembered seeing you stumble out of the kitchen when he was on his way to grab more drinks from their fridge, the younger twin thought nothing of it until he was met with Suna, and Atsumu awkwardly standing in the kitchen. Normally, Osamu would’ve asked questions that night but the alcohol in him couldn’t care less about the situation.

Staring at the untouched document pulled up on your laptop, you ducked behind your screen to avoid Suna’s wandering gaze, and Osamu’s not-so-subtle curiosity. This was hell. You didn’t even know why you decided to turn up today after that shit show at the party—maybe because you thought you could shove down that memory especially after telling Atsumu that you were fine or maybe you craved the closeness you two once had, and now you were here to rebuild that.

As easy as it sounded, you feared it might not be so with the way Atsumu has been avoiding you like the plague. First, it started when you walked into the café at the same time as the twins, Osamu greeted you at the door before heading inside leaving you, and Atsumu outside. Now, that would’ve been fine if the latter didn’t make a show of taking a couple of steps back to let you go first as though you carried some kind of incurable disease.

The second time was when Atsumu realised the only vacant seat was next to your own, thus, asking to swap with Osamu just so he could sit farthest away from you. And the third was when you had asked him if he was alright while waiting in line to order only to be met with a mindless nod before returning to his phone in his hand.

You tried your very best to ignore the blooming pain in your chest; sure, being sad about Atsumu possibly avoiding you was reasonable but then again, you were the one who told him you were okay now—how Atsumu decided to act after the party was beyond your control.

God but it pissed you off. Swallowing one’s pride, and making effort to rekindle a cold friendship was not an easy feat when the other doesn’t do the same. It shouldn’t work you up this much but it did, and now you were second guessing yourself that maybe it was an irrational decision to abruptly tell Atsumu that you’ve come to terms with moving on.

That night at the party, were you lying to yourself just so you could be around him again?

Whatever. It was too late to take it back anyway.

The days ahead were monotonous, and boring; you, and Atsumu remained orbiting around one another, careful not to get into each other’s path of trajectory but it was tiring. Not only did it feel like navigating through eggshells while he was around but the constant questions from your friends tested your limits. Though, it wasn’t their fault for simply being curious, and getting left in the dark about the whole situation but the prying felt like endless jabs of sharp needles along your skin.

From their point of view, you, and Atsumu were stubborn about the whole situation. None dared to speak up about it, acting as though everything was fine, so your friends were left with very little to work with.

It felt like a game of cat, and mouse where you were the feline chasing Atsumu around. The longer the days dragged on, the more thoughts formulated in your mind, and they all involved the blonde in some way or another. And just like everyone else, you had your limits too; you were tired of Atsumu acting like a stubborn idiot.

When you confessed to Atsumu, sure, you expected an awkward phase but this was even worse. There wasn’t just distance between the two of you, it felt like you were strangers.

He was known for brashly saying the sharp truth, so why couldn’t he be straightforward with you? Was he disgusted by the kiss, and deeply regretted it? Did he think you were weird? You didn’t know, but you were bound to find out even if it meant knocking at the twin’s apartment door at 5:45 PM on a cold, rainy Thursday.

With the sun hidden behind the looming grey clouds, the late winter afternoon was even darker; the roads were packed with vehicles while the sidewalks occupied students, and company workers alike trying their best to shield themselves from the heavy downpour. Despite the streets being illuminated with a tinge of warm yellow from cars, and streetlights, it did nothing to brighten up the gloomy day.

Funny, it was as though the universe knew how you felt today.

“If yer lookin’ for ‘Samu, he won’t be back until 8 PM.” Greeted with Atsumu’s shocked face as the ivory door to their apartment opened, you couldn’t help but visibly roll your eyes at his stubbornness. Yeah, like you’d be here at their apartment looking for Osamu—you knew each of their timetables like the back of your hand.

Flaxen strands that sat atop his head were unruly, a sign that he must’ve been taking a nap sometime ago. Atsumu donned a light blue hoodie paired with black sweats; you tried your best not to ogle the man, after all, you were here for a sensible talk.

“I’m here for you, Miya.”

Atsumu gripped the metal handle a little tighter, the coolness of it seeping into the warmth of his skin. He tried not to flinch at the sudden formality of the conversation. Nonetheless, the blonde pulled the door wider, a wordless invite to their humble space. Giving him a small smile before walking inside, you tried not to think about the last time you were here, and how you found yourself drunkenly kissing Atsumu in their kitchen.

The sound of the door closing shut behind Atsumu reverberated throughout the walls of their apartment, followed by a deafening silence. Met with his honeyed stare, you awkwardly coughed, and played with the hem of your jacket, “I’m not going to take up too much of your time . . but I do just have one question.”

There was a momentary silence as Atsumu waited for you to proceed; he had so many questions running through his mind right now, and it took all his willpower to hold them back, and let you speak instead. It was getting harder, and harder to focus as each second passed with the pounding of his heart—Atsumu didn’t know what to expect.

“Did you—Did you regret that kiss . . ?”

Your skin burned as the question lingered in the air, a beat or two before Atsumu finally spoke up, “. . N-no, why’d ya ask?”

Sighing, impatience prickled your feverish skin. ‘Why’d you ask?’  What the hell does he mean by why would I ask? We made out for fuck sake, that’s something friends don’t do! Why is he acting so casual about it? 

“God, this just made it a lot worse. I have so many fucking questions that my mind wants to explode right now,” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you slowly paced back, and forth, the floors beneath silently creaking with each step. So, Atsumu didn’t regret the kiss but he’s acting like you’re strangers—fucking hell, why did he even kiss you in the first place?!

Your mind was a complete mess.

Trying to calm yourself down with slow, deep breaths, you decided to address the elephant in the room first, “Then why have you been avoiding me, Atsumu?—I’m sorry but I’m the one who got rejected, I cannot think of any reason why you should be avoiding me like this.” Atsumu hated that look on your face—the desperation, the sadness, the frustration. He never thought that he’d be the one making you feel all these negative emotions, and it pained him as much as it pained you.

Atsumu let out a sigh, carefully formulating the right words into a coherent sentence, “I’m just . . trying to be careful, okay?” His stomach dropped as your face contorted with more confusion.

Did he say something wrong?

“Careful about what, Atsumu?! You—ugh! It’s so hard to talk to you when you’re giving me all these stupidly vague answers! I’ve already told you I was fine. I don’t care anymore that you don’t like me back. I just want us to be back to normal again.”

Now, it was Atsumu’s turn to be upset. He couldn’t bear the thought of you moving on so quickly, and that’s why he’s been acting distant lately; it annoyed him how easy it was for you to talk to him like nothing happened but Atsumu knew he couldn’t tell you the reason—why couldn’t you just try, and understand his situation? Rejecting wasn’t an easy task to do, especially if it was the person he had been hopelessly pining for.

“Well—maybe things aren’t meant ta back ta normal!”

What?

You stared at him for a second, brows furrowed as you tried to comprehend his words that lingered in the cold air of their apartment. Silence engulfed the two of you, the distant sounds of Hyōgo’s late afternoon rain seeping through the slightly opened window.

“Do you feel uncomfortable around me after knowing the fact that I have feelings for you? Is that it?” “God, no—I could never feel that way.”

It took all of Atsumu’s patience not to wrap his arms around you—he wanted to hold you against him badly; that defeated look on your face broke his heart but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Maybe Atsumu was the coward after all.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, ‘Tsumu!”

“It’s hard f’me as well, y’know?!” “What is?”

Atsumu closed his eyes, the words he’s been wanting to scream at the top of his lungs lodged in his throat, threatening to slip out. A wave of adrenaline rush coursed through his veins, heart pounding like crazy with this newfound high, it made him feel as though he was invincible—as if he could say anything, and everything without a care for its consequences.

Fuck it.

“Fuck—It’s because I like ya back, okay?! I always have! And rejectin’ ya was so goddamn hard f’me because I’m still not over ya. God, I think about ya every single second, and it pains me so much because yer already movin’ on, and ‘m still stuck here.”

What?

Flabbergasted, you stared at Atsumu all wide-eyed, the thrumming of your heart becoming increasingly loud against your ears as each slow second passed. Did he just say he liked you back? As though mother nature was watching, the rain outside poured harder; sounds of droplets of heavy water against the roof filled the silent apartment, pulling you back into reality.

“Then why—If you feel the same way then why did you reject me?”

When you knocked on the door to the twins’ apartment, you expected a sincere conversation with Atsumu, not him confessing his feelings out of the blue. You were absolutely speechless—you didn’t know whether to jump for joy because he actually does like you back or whether to massage your temples from pure confusion.

“Back then during the trip, ya told me ya weren’t ready for a relationship yet, and that ya only wanted ta confess ta get rejected n’ move on. I wanted ta respect yer decision, so . .”

Flashbacks of said conversation from the trip quickly came into mind, and how you told Atsumu about not being ready for a relationship yet.

Oh.

Oh.

The weight of frustration from your shoulders slowly dissipated, the pent up annoyance you held in your heart was gone too. Suddenly, you weren’t so frustrated anymore after learning about the whole truth behind the situation. You were able to breathe better with the bad air finally cleared between you, and Atsumu.

Looking at it now, you felt absolutely silly. The whole situation turned out to be one big misunderstanding, it was almost laughable—now, you truly understood the essence of communication is key.

You let out a humourless laugh, “You’re so stupid, you know that?” Taking a few steps toward the blonde, you leaned your forehead against his chest, a hand coming up to curl into a fist to lightly hit it; a faint scent of his musky cologne lingered on the fabric of his hoodie, effectively invading your senses. Atsumu didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your torso, pulling your body flush against his before resting his chin on the crown of your head.

For a beat or two, you, and Atsumu remained in each other’s hold, basking in the cosy atmosphere. 

“Would I be more stupid if I tell ya I want ta pick up where we left off at the party?”

Before you knew it your lips were sealed in a searing kiss—this time, it felt raw, all things passionate, and eager. Hands impatiently roaming each other’s unexplored bodies, sounds of wet kisses slowly filling up the apartment. The atmosphere shifted from cosy to something more sensual, light groans, and moans slipping in between each kiss.

Your hands rested on Atsumu’s golden strands, fingers gently tugging at it as he worked his lips down the column of your neck, teeth lightly nipping at the feverish skin. Atsumu focused on a certain spot just below your ear, nipping, and sucking at it which pulled a dainty whine from your lips.

“‘T-Tsumu—Ah!” You gasped, his tongue leaving trails of goosebumps beneath its sinful licks against your skin. He cursed under his breath, the dizzying tone of your voice awakening the slumbering carnal beast that resided in his core. With each dulcet moan that slipped past your swollen lips, Atsumu became greedier, he wasn’t going to settle for mere kisses on your skin—he needed to hear more.

Pulling away from your intoxicating scent, Atsumu looked down at you with parted lips, and hooded eyes, caramel gaze clouded with nothing but pure desire. “I think we should take this ta my room.” He panted.

Nodding at his proposal, hurried footsteps padded over to his room as though each second wasted was crucial. As soon as the door behind Atsumu slammed shut, his lips were on yours once again, strong hands deftly working on the layers of clothing you wore, slowly slipping them off of you one by one; Atsumu could practically feel himself shaking with nervousness, and excitement.

Discarding your top on the wooden floor beneath, Atsumu stared wide-eyed at your torso, both hands coming up to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra, earning a low moan from you. The air of the room felt cold against your skin but Atsumu’s touch was enough to ignite you.

“So beautiful . .” He absent-mindedly gasped, a lovestruck look in his honeyed eyes.

Hands eagerly tugging at the hem of his hoodie, Atsumu swiftly pulled the fabric off his torso in one movement, golden strands tousled from the action. Goosebumps formed upon his sun kissed skin, bare torso met with the cold winter air; your eyes raked Atsumu’s physique up, and down, shamelessly ogling his muscled chest in all its naked glory. God, you used to just fantasise about this, and now it was served right in front of you on a silver platter.

You decorated each other’s skin with endless love bites, sinful hues of dark red, and purple peppered along your chest, and neck. Atsumu took his sweet time to savour every bit of you—your taste, your scent, your sounds, everything. He made sure to bask in your serene beauty, the gentle glow of your bare figure before utterly devouring you like a starved animal, ravaging your purity with carnal desire.

Atsumu let himself go at the raw intimacy of your bodies, the feeling of your sweet warmth brought tears of pleasure in his eyes as he pushed, and pushed towards the newfound ecstasy you both shared. The chant of his name slipped past your lips like a sinful melody, mere fuel to the relentless drive of his hips. But Atsumu held you dearly against his naked body through it all, fingers intertwined with your own as he keenly chased both your pleasures, choked out moans of your name whispered hotly against your sensitive skin.

And as you both tipped over the edge, Atsumu didn’t fail to tell you how much he loved you in between each pathetic moan as he painted your insides white, the dizzying pleasure contorting his handsome face in pure ecstasy. You held him in your arms, nails digging crescent-shaped marks on his skin, whispering saccharine praises to him as you let go, and emptied the words of your heart.

As the gentle aftermath of the passionate exchange rolled around, Atsumu held you in his arms, hearts beating as one, and lulling you both to sleep. The last thing you heard was a faint ‘I love you’ before passing out from exhaustion.

“‘Tsumu, what did ya want for—Oh my god! What the fuck?!” 

A familiar voice abruptly pulled you, and Atsumu out of your sleep, followed by the loud bang of his door slamming shut. Muffled expletives from outside the room could be heard as you both stirred beneath the ivory sheets. “‘Tsumu, what the hell?! Ya should’ve warned me before I went into yer room!” Osamu yelled from the other side of the door.

Atsumu groaned, rubbing his face before turning to the door, “Shut yer trap! Ya should’ve knocked!” At his twin’s silence, he let out a sigh, and slung a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his naked body before closing his eyes once again.

You let out a soft chuckle, “We really need to stop getting caught. First, Suna, and now Osamu.” Atsumu hummed in response, too sleepy to even think or form a coherent sentence. Snuggling closer to him, you closed your eyes, and went back to sleep as well.

Oh, you could get used to this.

Winter slowly turned into spring as March rolled around—the end of the academic year.

Trees that were once bare slowly blossomed with flowers, hues of yellows, and browns were replaced with endless greenery, and frigid air became more welcoming like a warm embrace. Most importantly, the cold distance between you, and Atsumu no longer existed, instead, it was replaced by fluttering heartbeats, and fluffy moments that hinted at a sweet forevermore.

“There he is! How does it feel to be a fresh graduate!” Suna whistled as Kita walked over to the group, clad in a black academic gown with a matching trencher propped neatly on his head, the golden tassel on the cap swayed with every step taken; he donned a warm smile, one hand holding his well-deserved degree.

The buzz of excitement outside the venue was high, the graduation ceremony having finished just a few minutes ago. You were all surrounded by graduands, all with heartfelt smiles on their faces as they conversed with family, and friends alike. 

As your friends fell into a merry conversation, a warm hand interlaced with your own, giving your hand a comfortable squeeze. Atsumu. Looking up at your boyfriend, he cheekily leaned into your ear, whispering an ‘I love you’ before slowly blinking at you, mirroring a cat’s action. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at his antics.

“Are you two lovebirds done, now?” Suna coughed, pulling you back into reality.

Met with amused expressions plastered on your friends’ faces, you, and Atsumu returned a sheepish smile before joining in their conversation. “Anyway, we were talkin’ about how we should celebrate Kita’s graduation. It can also serve as a treat for us for makin’ it through another academic year.” Osamu explained, earning a hum of approval from you, and Atsumu.

“How about a spring trip to Kyoto?” —

tags: @ushijimaschubbs @tsumudoll @startlitsawamura @littlemiyastars @h3art-ablaz3 @eggyrocks @integers @rrosiitas @food8me @schelamski @honeytwo @nyaaa-cat @cherribxio @aloesstuff @bontensh0e @willshebloved @yogurtkags @hyori2 @hibernatinghamster @theepitomeofswag @yawnjjunz @animesimpingismyjob @acowboykisser @rntrsuna @rjreins @prodhyuka @loonalockley @cheesypuffkins87 @kos-misch @iluvaquaphor @stunie @cathyket @empress-pug-pug @plutoxxxworld @sunawhore @jaegerfiles

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum !

© chrollogy 2024 | don’t plagiarise, repost or steal my header.

[osmanthusoolong]

“In an effort to dispel what she says are myths about the impact a Fredericton addictions clinic has had on businesses and residents in the downtown, the head of the clinic spoke before a city council committee Thursday.

Dr. Sara Davidson said the River Stone Recovery Centre has not resulted in an influx of illicit drug users to Fredericton and has not worsened the issue of homelessness in the city's downtown. “

…

“But she also spent a chunk of her time at the podium rebutting a list of what she says are myths that some people in the city are perpetuating about how the clinic operates and the knock-on effects it's having.

"I just yesterday had someone tell me that a paramedic had said to them that a busload [of people] gets shipped in from Ontario on a regular basis to take part in our program," said Davidson, in an interview after her presentation.

"I don't know where that came from."”

What? That’s such a deeply nonsensical claim!

“Davidson said her clinic's program is not making the city's homeless problem worse, but rather has improved things.

She said 60 per cent of the patients who were homeless when they started the injectable opioid-agonist therapy program reported being housed after 12 months, and 90 per cent reported finding a home after two years.

She said 85 per cent of participants in the same program also reported they no longer were stealing to survive.”

Strangely, the clinic for changing your relationship with substances leads to people doing that.

The panicky conservatives of Fredericton have always been this evil and dense, and LOVE the spectre of buses of evildoers being trucked in from Somewhere for Reasons

@allthecanadianpolitics

[ettawritesnstudies]

Etta's Guide to Writeblr (March 2023)

So you fled here from Twitter/TikTok... Where to start?

Welcome to Writeblr! Pull up a chair, open those documents, and pour yourself a cup of your favorite tea, coffee, or cocoa. The first thing you'll want to do is start following other writers. Check out this post for recommendations! Search through the notes to find hundreds more. Since I made that post, a bunch of people mentioned they're lurking and still trying to figure out tumblr, so I thought I'd make this post to help people get settled.

How to set up your blog

Make your blog name something not resembling a pornbot - it can be whatever you want, anything fun goes, just not [name###]. If you include "writer" or "author" somewhere in the url it makes it easier to spot writeblrs at a glance but it's not a requirement

Change your profile to something that's not the default, Make sure you have a blog title, and add a little description in your blog header if you feel like it!

Make a pinned post introducing yourself (pls don't use your real name or any IDing information for privacy's sake, this isn't facebook), a short summary of your WIPs, and links if you have an author's website/newsletter/ao3/etc. You can check my pinned post for an example

Make intro posts for each WIP! You can spruce these up with graphics (canva and unsplash are both great free resources to make edits/moodboards), excerpts, lists of tropes, character intros, etc. Link to the WIP intro in your pinned post so it's easy to find! You can update these as often as needed

If you want to make character intros, go wild. If you can't draw, piccrew is a great option. Just start talking about your WIP!

Come up with a tagging system to keep your blog organized. I recommend individual wip tags or at least one for your original writing in general so it's easy to search for your work on your blog

Keep track of Taglists for your WIPs. Whenever you post a new thing about your story, tag the people who asked to be notified to make sure they see it! Only tag people who ask to join the taglist, but it's a good way to keep track of interest. It's normal to have multiple taglists for each story+ one general writing taglist.

How to make writer friends

Reblog their work and add nice comments, either in the tags, comments, or the reblog itself People notice regulars in their notes and appreciate the attention. I promise it's not weird to compliment a total stranger

If that's too intimidating, community events are your friend!

Weekly Ask Games: These are weekly events that are loosely themed where writers send each other asks about their WIPs! The most common are Storyteller Saturday (about the writing process), Blorbsday (aka Blorbo Thursday about characters), and Worldbuilding Wednesday (about the setting of your story). If you answer these late, nobody really cares, but it's a fun way to receive prompts and learn more about other people's stories.

Ask Games/Memes: These are posts with lists of questions you can reblog from other people, sometimes themed or listed with emojis. It's common courtesy to send an ask from the list to the person you reblog it from, then people can send you questions as well, so you can talk about your stories! You can search for dozens of them

Tag games: There's a ton of different types of tag games, but basically someone @s you with a challenge/question, you reblog with your answer, and then @ a bunch of other people to continue the chain. Some common ones are Heads Up 7s Up (share the last 7 lines of your WIP), Last Line Tag (share the last line you wrote), and Find the Words (ctrl+f the given words in your doc and share the results, then give new words).

Formal events: These are community wide participation challenges organized by certain blogs! @writeblrsummerfest is every July?? August? I think? It's run by @abalonetea a few years strong, and there are daily prompts and ask games! @inklings-challenge is a month-long short story entry for Christian writeblrs. I think there was a valentines event in February. @moon-and-seraph is hosting a pitch week soon! Since these are more organized, it's very easy to find similar blogs and support!

Misc. Notes on using Tumblr

Follow the tags #writeblr and #writeblr community to find other writers, as well as other tags that interest you like #fantasy for example

If you want to bookmark a post to read later, you can like it and/or save it to your drafts

The queue/schedule function is very useful if you want to space out posts or have a backlog to keep your blog running when you get busy. This is good for the community because it gives older posts a chance to be rediscovered! You can change the posting frequency in the settings.

REBLOG YOUR OWN STUFF. People aren't always on at the same times and so it's the best way to account for people with different schedules and timezones. If you're worried about being annoying, you can tag those #self reblog or something similar and other people can filter the tag, but otherwise it's a welcomed and accepted practice.

If your excerpt is pretty long, put it under a cut. On desktop you can do this by selecting the squiggly button on the far right when you make a new paragraph, on mobile type :readmore: then hit enter.

It's polite to add descriptions to images and videos for visually or auditory impaired people. If you don't know how to write descriptions, here's a good resource

In your dashboard settings, it's best to shut off the options "Best Stuff First" and "Based on your Likes". These function as the website algorithm and suppresses the blogs you actually follow, which defeats the purpose of the site, letting the dash be in reverse chronological order. Also turn off Tumblr Live because it's malware as far as anyone's concerned.

Curate your experience, block the trolls, and be nice

Update for March 2024

How to shut off AI Scraping on your blog

Go to settings and find the Visibility tab

Scroll down to the tag that says "Prevent Third-Party Sharing"

Turn that knob over so that Automattic can't steal your work for their language training model databases >_<

The other settings will just hide your blog from search engines so they're useful for hiding from nosy parents or other Tumblr users but if you're trying to build an author platform you can leave them off.

Again, welcome to the community! I hope you have a ton of fun!

[estrellami-1]

Lavender Letters

To those of you who celebrate, who have something worth celebrating… happy Thanksgiving. To everyone else, happy random Thursday!

Part 8

“S-something else?” Steve parrots.

“That’s right. I’m going to put my hand on your body.” He grabs Steve’s wrist, grins at the gasp that gets him. “And you tell me if you like it there. Okay?”

“O-okay.”

“So how about here?” He tightens his grip, smiles at the whine Steve lets out.

“Y-yeah.”

“Oh, I know you do, sweet boy. You’re so expressive.”

“Eddie-”

“Mhm?” He pulls back a little, enough to see Steve’s face. Steve just gasps, little breaths in and out. “You like sayin’ my name, sweet thing?” He pulls Steve’s hand behind his back and nudges forward, causing them to brush together. He inhales shakily as Steve moans quietly. “You got an upstairs we can go to, sweetheart? Somewhere I can take you apart?”

Steve sways forward, catching himself just before their lips brush. “I’ve- I’ve got a room upstairs,” he says. “But I’m not- I can’t-”

Eddie pulls his hand to his side again, locks their fingers together. “You can’t?”

“They’re gonna hear.”

“How do you feel about gags?”

Steve shakes his head. Even the thought seems to clear his head some. “No gags. Or- or blindfolds. Or restraints.”

“But my hand around your wrist?”

“That’s fine. You’re touching me. But- but no restraints that aren’t you. Or, um. I could try? If you want me to grab the headboard and not move. I could try.”

Eddie hums. “Nah, I think I like you touching me too much. But we’re out of luck until the party’s over, huh?”

Steve turns sad eyes up at him, nods.

Eddie smiles, touches his finger to Steve’s chin. “That’s alright. We can take it slow for a couple of hours. Get to know each other even better.”

Steve smiles. “Like what?”

Eddie hums exaggeratedly, tapping his finger on his chin. “Favorite sound?”

Steve laughs. “I have two. First is rain. I love hearing rain, especially as I’m falling asleep.”

“Nothing better,” Eddie agrees. “And your second?”

Steve colors. “When Robin sleeps over she talks in her sleep sometimes, and I’ll wake up to hear it. And it reminds me that I’m safe.”

Eddie smiles. “My favorite sound is Wayne’s snoring. It’s not overly loud, but sometimes I’ll sit just behind my door and listen to him sleep until I’m close enough to get back into bed and drift off. I think it’s sweet that Robin’s yours.”

Steve looks down. “Would it bother you if I could never listen to your music? Or never learned how to play DnD?”

“Would you let me rant to you about it? You wouldn’t even have to pay attention, really, or remember anything. Just let me talk at you about it, and don’t get annoyed when I want to talk about it.”

“Of course.”

Eddie grabs his hands, smiles. “Then I promise to do the same about whatever you want.”

Steve grins. “Even if it’s sports?”

“I’ll even watch it with you,” Eddie promises.

“You will?”

“I mean, I’ll at least sit in the same room. No promises that I’ll remember anything.”

“That’s okay. Robin’s the same way. Lucas—did I tell you about him? L?”

Eddie hums. “I think so… most polite? Wicked sharp tongue? Is that him?”

Steve beams. “Yeah, exactly! He likes sports, basketball, and sometimes we’ll play together.” He angles a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve got a hoop in the back. He’s getting really good.”

“I should hope so, if he’s playing with you. How about football?”

Steve hums. “I like watching it, but playing it wouldn’t be a good idea. Not with the concussions I have.”

“Wayne likes watching it, too. Maybe you could come over, watch a game with him. I know he’d appreciate it.”

Steve’s eyes shine. “Really?”

“Mhm.” He leans sideways against the counter, facing Steve. “Can I ask about the concussions? Or NDAs?”

Steve deflates. “I want to tell you.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“Besides the fact that I fully believe the government’s got ears here? I don’t think you’ll believe me.”

Eddie hums, leans closer. “Well either way, I’d like to take you out one day in my van. Somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, where you can be as loud as you want.” He leans in and whispers, “or say whatever you want.” He pulls back with a smirk. “What do you think?”

Steve takes a shaky breath. “I think I want to kick everyone out,” he murmurs, “but I also think Robin would never let me live it down if I did.”

Eddie chuckles, pulls away. “Drink your water,” he suggests. “Let’s take some time, dance a little. Socialize. Let Robin know I’m here for a good time and a long time.”

Steve takes a few big gulps of water. “I think you’re going to ruin me,” he says slowly. “In the best way possible.”

Eddie grins sharply at him. “That’s the plan, big boy.”

He winks.

Steve gulps.

This is going to be fun.

[trulyumai]

Oh, Mr mosses (Series!) V

Synopsis: You were fine with the job, the steps were easy enough but the secret  of the D.D.D was getting harder and harder to contain. Each night a new entity would enter the building, each with its own horrific look and intentions. Just as you debate on leaving, a new resident has entered the premises; Francis Mosses who is absolutely entranced by your being. Now, his Mimic has taken a liking to you too.

Will you be as smitten of them as they are of you? Only time will tell.

Author Note: Hello everyone, a bit longer of a chapter but thats okay! After Thursday I will be final free! Which means I'll have more time for writing and answering requests, thank you for your patience! <3

Warnings: Blood, Obsessive/Possessive behavior, Stalking, Talk about Death, Mutilation.

Also available on AO3!

Taglist: @tfamidoingwithmylife @mariaflor873 @fandomfeind @greycloudsy @skully-skeleton-bone0106 @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @the-tiger-lover78 @itoshilvr @wilddreamer98 (Let me know if you want to be added!)

God, even the way she laid there, limp against the office wall was everything to him. 

Biting down on 28 only crunches and squelches echoed through the room, the said man laid in pieces by his feet. 

He casually sat there in her squeaky chair, munching on a limb like it was normal; an everyday hobby. 

Humming a familiar tune he threw the rest of the arm past him, somewhere towards the cabinets, he had to guess. 

With his feet on the desk he sighed. 

Soon the D.D.D would learn of his presence, his safety would be at risk and his little toy would be in even more danger than she already was. 

Maybe he would take her, hide her away to be his little wife. That is what they’re called, aren’t they?

First things first; he had to dispose of the replica. 

Clicking his teeth he scratched his nails on the wood beside him. 

That fucking fool. A useless mirror image he copied. 

He had to learn everything about the man before taking his face; starting with his job, his hobbies, his routes, down to the fucking shampoo he preferred. Until it got to his favorite area, the most recent addition in his life; the pretty receptionist. 

He knew it would be so easy to manipulate the woman. Her mind was so weak compared to him, with just a tad bit of bending (Mentally and a bit physically), he molded her perfectly for him. 

Enough to not only get access to the building, but to her as well. 

She groaned as she laid there, she must be having a nightmare. He hoped it involved him, with some image of the mimic biting chunks out or flesh, kissing them as he went on.  Holding back a grin he decided to move her, before someone else were to poke their nose in the already bloodied business of theirs. He pulled her up until she reached his chest and eyed the old corroded clipboard by the door. 

Going down the list of names he got to her; room 24 Level 2.

Stepping through the red he rubbed his feet on 28’s corpse, letting the leftover blood dry on his once white, button up. We wouldn’t want a little trail now would we? 

Clicking the green button he passed 28 once more, whistling lowly as the elevator pushed its doors open with a groan. 

Stepping in his clawed finger pressed the second button on the wall, watched as the doors came together with a satisfying thunk. 

Belly satiated and full, he looked down at the woman in his arms, her head was lolled to the side, leaning firmly on his chest. Grinning wide he bent towards her, pressing a sloppy, bloody kiss to her forehead, cheek and nose. 

The box dinged once again, the doors slid open loudly to indicate their arrival to her floor. 

Walking through the corridor, he read the numbers idly 

10, 12, 14, 

A turn left 

16, 18, 20- 

A creek escaped, some neighbor had opened their door, just up ahead.

It was that rich suited prick. 

“Ah! Francis, lovely to- is that the receptionist?” His grin was hesitant, eying the girl with bloody marks on her face. 

He could kill him now, but it would be more of a mess to deal with, he doubted he could hide another body from the D.D.D.

Mustering up a smile, his sharp teeth gritted together.

“She’s ah, not feeling well,” attempting to move past the pompous man and walk towards her door just steps away, the man stopped them once more and put a hand out for extra measure. 

Growling he slowly turned, met the eyes of the man once more. 

“Do we have a problem,” he gritted, claws digging into the poor girl below him. 

“Well- ah, tell her to visit me when she feels up to it,” 

He put his hand back at his side, rubbing his fingers idly. 

“I have a job opportunity for her, you see!” 

Not bothering to waste anymore time, he pressed on to her room. Ignoring the suited man's stares as he clicked her key into place, shoving them both inside before slamming the door. 

“Fucking prick.” He muttered. 

But now he was all alone, could touch and prod at the girl with no interruptions. 

Looking around he noticed the apartment was tidy; everything had a place, plants sat by the darkened windowsill and beside them, a full bookcase was laid about. Her kitchen was spotless, only a few decorative items littered the counters while the sink was, of course, empty. 

Holding her up with one hand he scratched at his gums, pieces of bone were starting to prod against his teeth, becoming more annoying than painful. 

Looking for her bedroom he propped open a door with his shoulder, and with a thump, dumped her unceremoniously on the mattress. 

It was then, he realized. 

“Oh fuck.” 

Bolting angrily back towards the door, the hallway and elevator as fast as he could, he bit down on his annoyingly human cheek; hard. 

He left the elevator unlocked. 

Any other mimic could come through freely and he really couldn’t have that. 

Another competition for his food? Yeah no, fuck that. He hated how territorial his kind was, made everything a pain in the ass to retrieve and made survival even more strenuous. 

It’s why he found himself here; In this little rundown apartment, with surprisingly good security. 

Being denied and caught over and over made everything so much more satisfying, because he knew that if he waited- stuck around for the right moment, he’d get in. 

Watched plenty of his kind die too, before deciding to take a shape of his own, and finally, making his way to the pretty and gullible receptionist. 

Mashing the first floor button he clawed at his face, light red marks dented down with each press of his fingers. 

Ironically enough, he’s the one that has to distinguish between what’s real and fake now.

Waiting for the elevator he growled.

“What a pain in the ass.” 

——

The milkman was tired. Getting in, absolutely no one was there to check his ID, and he wondered if the receptionist was okay (Yet again). It seemed that lately, that’s all he could think about. Her health, the way she smiled, her pretty hands.

 Not once had she missed any of her shifts, and although he had only been there for a short time, he would always hear from the neighbors how dutiful she was. 

Come sickness, fatigue, anything, she would be there. 

Walking past the office, his fingers shook cautiously by his sides. 

Enough was enough, he would talk to her, he couldn’t avoid her forever and his little, “crush,” wasn’t going away anytime soon. 

So with a long intake of air. He pressed her floor number. 

It was now or never. 

The doors closed, and the travel up began. 

Floor1

Ding!

Floor 2

Ding!

With his head pointed downwards he heard the doors sliding open before walking forward, passing a quick figure to his left. Not bothering to greet them he kept his head down.

The anxiety was getting to him and wait- he didn’t even know what room she was in! 

Head up, he turned back toward the figure that passed him. 

They obviously resided on this floor, maybe he could attempt to ask them about her room without completely looking like a creep. 

But what he saw he just couldn’t explain- rationally describe. 

His face stared back at him, it was set in a scowl while he noticed vast amounts of blood adorned his usually crisp white shirt. The doors were on their way to closing, and this version of him reached out to stop it.

He was too late, the metal doors crashed together and Francis could feel his heart jumping out of his chest. 

What the actual fuck was going on.

Was he that tired? 

Grabbing his face he turned back, mumbling incessant comforts to stop the beats of his heart from getting any faster. 

He needed to find her room, and fast.

-

The first thing she noticed was her head. It boomed with an unfathomable amount of pressure, and she was hesitant to open her eyes. 

She felt around, immediately recognizing the comfort of her own duvet, the silkiness of her pillows,  the faint wafts of the candle she lit the night prior. It calmed the tenseness found between her shoulders, instantly relaxing against the cushioned material. 

With a muffled groan she allowed her eyelids to slink up, her messy room greeted her vision. 

Not remembering the trip up, she laid there, stretched out and confused. 

Craning her head just off the side of the bed, the receptionist glanced towards the hallway; to her front door that was wide open. 

Jerking up, her feet collided with one another, and looking more like a newborn calf than human she attempted her way to the front of the room. 

Never before had a fatigue caused this much confusion; chaos to her mind. 

Something had to be wrong. 

She remembered clocking in, idly sitting by as the clock ticked and ticked. After that it was all blank- it startled her to no end. 

With a hand on the door frame her figure leaned on the wall, just outside her abode. 

Biting her lip she held back a whimper, the bright lights of the hall burned her eyes, she tried to go off of memory, closing her eyes as she felt for every familiar bump and groove of the space.

Turning to where she remembered the elevator was, someone bumped into her- hard. 

“My goodness!” That voice… could it really be? 

“Francis?” Squinting her eyes she blinked repeatedly, trying to get the figure to focus in her vision. 

“H-Hey,” the deep voice answered back, smiling, as she knew it was the tired mailman. Only he could have such a serious yet flustered sounding voice.  

“I've been looking for you,”

The man gripped the girl's shoulders, light yet firm and bent down just to meet her gaze.

“Some… things have been happening, I wanted to see if you were okay.” Flustered, the girl forced out a laugh, taking a hand off her shoulder she gripped it softly. 

“I'm okay, you look more disheveled than me, big guy, what's up?” Kneading the flesh around his knuckles the man couldn't help but relax. 

She smelled so good- of lilac and vanilla, it invaded his senses and corrupted his mind. He couldn't even remember the duplicate until it was shoved back by his consciousness. 

Letting out a low moan he shook his head. ‘Focus Francis, god-’ 

“I have to talk to you,” he blurted out, face getting warmer as she paused her movement, and looked right at him. 

Letting out a giggle she rested her arm, just so it leaned comfortably in the crook of his elbow. 

“Okay? My rooms around the corner, if you wanna talk there?”

Not relying on his words he nodded his head, letting the girl lightly pull his arm to her apartment. 

Now, he just had to figure out how to explain his bloody twin. 

Should be easy!

And if she calls him crazy, and ultimately pushes him out of the apartment- possibly building, at least he got to get this close to her. 

Smelling her, touching her, it was better than living alone with his thoughts- tormenting him every hour of the week that he lazily spent thinking about her anyway.

Inhaling her flowery scent once more he shuddered, he hoped the pretty girl would believe him, so he could once more bask in her presence and ignore every little thing around.

[angelwishess]

❝𝑡𝚑𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐𝚑 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑡𝚑𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑧𝑒.❞

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

୨୧┊ About me !

୨୧ ꒰ Angel; 15; She/Her ꒱ ୨୧ ⺀

୨୧ Oc x Canon ; Art , occasional fics & lots

of yapping ! — Don’t feel shy to interact ! 𖥔

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

masterlists :

ྀི Original Characters — Art list —

୨୧ — Floyra List — Eventsྀི ୨୧

୨୧ ONGOING EVENT(S):

ྀི Fairytale Soiree (100+ follower milestone) ୨୧

ྀི TWST OC Ask Game ୨୧

Color My Tree!!~

˗ˏˋ DO NOT Repost or use my art for AI !! ˊˎ-

୨୧ more about me ; tag index utc~

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

୨୧ ꒰ More about me . . . ྀ⁺ ⺀

╰┈➤ Hi hi !! I’m Angel! I’m 15 years old, and i’m Filipino!! Though, I’m not that good at Tagalog 😭 I’m Demiromantic and Asexual !!

My timezone is GMT+4, and I come home late after school a lot, so from monday-thursday, I might be more inactive.

Please don’t feel shy to interact! I love LOVE interacting with people , and my inbox is open to anyone !!! So please don’t feel intimidated, I’m happy to talk to you about OCs, canon characters, or anything. ♡

Just so you know, this is an Oc x Canon account ! I’ll mostly post about my TWST Ocs and their ships, my main one being Floyra (Floyd x Kyra!). So, if you aren’t into that, thats completely fine! We all have our own opinions, and I completely understand. But please, stay kind and respectful and don’t use it as an excuse to attack me or any of my mutuals !

This isn’t a very serious blog, just somewhere I can ramble about my interests , dump art and interact :3

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

୨୧ ꒰ Other interests . . . ྀ ⁺ ⺀

╰┈➤ Mairimashita! Iruma Kun!

╰┈➤ Obey me! Shall We Date?

╰┈➤ Pokemon !!!

╰┈➤ Epic: The Musical

╰┈➤ Mythology in general

╰┈➤ Journey To The West

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

୨୧ ꒰ tag index . . . ྀ⁺ ⺀

╰┈➤ my main emoji for tags is “🎀!”

🎀! reblog — Literally just my reblogs or talking to my mooties , feel free to mute this !

🎀! doodles — Lazy drawings of silly scenarios that come to mind , not anything serious teehee !

🎀! art — Art that I put a little more effort into, usually comics or skits :3

🎀! fic — My writing ! I only really write about my Oc x Canon ships, and I don’t take requests.

🎀! yap — Literally me just yapping … rambling … lollygagging … Sometimes not even about TWST, mainly just me getting my thoughts out of my head but it varies on what i talk about lol

🎀! bookmark — Anything I want to use for future refrence. Mostly only TWST assets (sprites, bgs, templates, ect.)

🎀🕊️! Kyra — My main OC !!

🎀🦈! floyra — my main OC x Canon ship :33

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

Last updated: November 16, 2024. — Angel ໒꒱

[ros3ybabes]

Updated Workouts 🎀

I have been out of the gym for so long. My schedule last semester did not allow it, but when I leave to Colorado in June, I'll be staying somewhere that has its own little gym, and next semester I'll have more access to the university gym as well. I've been doing at home workouts lately! Here's how I structure my workouts throughout the week, and some extra info about my current fitness!

🩷 Monday

Pilates Legs Youtube Workout(s)

🩷 Tuesday

Pilates Abs YouTube Workout(s)

🩷 Wednesday

Morning Yoga YouTube Workout

Pilates Legs/Pilates Glutes YouTube Workout

🩷 Thursday

Full Body Pilates YouTube Workout

🩷 Friday

Full Body Pilates YouTube Workout

🩷 Saturday

Morning Pilates YouTube Workout OR

Morning Yoga YouTube Workout

🩷 Sunday

Wake Up Yoga YouTube Workout

Yoga For Flexibility Workout

So, as you can see, I currently follow YouTube pilates workouts. I will make a list of my favorite workout youtbers on my main blog soon! I prefer low impact workouts at the moment but will switch it up a bit once I am in Colorado.

💕 Some extra stuff for my fitness:

I try to walk 5k to 10k steps a day, whether that be going outside or doing a walking workout in my bedroom

I do all of my workouts in the morning almost right after i get up in the morning. It eliminates obstacles and helps me do something active during the day

I am going to add more stretching into my routine, especially for my legs. I have pretty stiff muscles, and as someone who'd love to be able to do the spilts, I need to start stretching.

I have a foam roller, but it isn't one of the ones with the bumps on it that really helps the muscles, and I'm going to buy one as soon as possible.

I also am going to start using my massage gun on my legs because I've been so sore and again, stiff, and I think it'll be so useful to just use it on my legs at night. It might even help me sleep better.

Sleep!! I have been sleeping 6 to 8 hours a night consistently, and it's so nice. I feel like I can function so much better, and on the days I get closer to 7 hours of sleep, I feel so good when I wake up and can really get to my morning workouts.

I've switched up my diet a bit and eat healthier (in a sustainable way), and it's also helped me with my fitness too! it really makes a difference with what you put in your body! Food is fuel and food is great!

Always open to fitness and health related questions! Please don't forget I am 3 years into my nutrition and dietetics degree, as well as minoring in psyc and exercise science (also have a 2nd major in finance, but that's irrelevant to health). I also research health and fitness topics for fun. I'm not saying I'm the most credible whatsoever, but I do have some idea of what I'm talking about and am always open to questions or even advice you could give me!

til next time lovelies 🩷

[leewonkyeom]

027: entering private property in 3... 2... 1

light a flame [27/51]

☆ summary: when your roommate quits his job at the coffee shop you frequent you never imagined the new guy would be hot or even your type. to make matters worse you both study law at the same university.

your friends to try to convince you to get together with him. you try to convince them you just find him really nice... but are you able to convince yourself?

previous | masterlist | next

continues below the cut

y/n, mingyu

yn: hi, mingyu. what's up?

mg: WHAT DO YOU MEAN "what's up?

yn: you called me, didn't you?

mg: oh. that's right. so you really don't know?

yn: know what?

mg: what's "hbg"s real name?

yn: oh come on. i've probably told you a million times

mg: you have not

yn: sure, i have?

mg: is it wonwoo or jihoon?

yn: who's jihoon?

mg: his roommate

yn: is he?

mg: ask him

yn: yeah, sure. i'll just waltz into his bathroom while he's showering to ask him... wait. he's done. wait two seconds

mg: okay?

[...]

yn: how did you know what his roommate's name is? that is super creepy

mg: because... he's also MY roommate

yn: you're fucking with me

mg: i'm not. that's why i called. i recognized my own living room

yn: wait. aren't you at seokmin's?

mg: yes. why?

yn: SOONYOUNG IS FEEDING YOU INFORMATION TO FUCK WITH ME

mg: what?

yn: it's the only logical explanation. we would have known if you knew wonwoo

mg: only we did not. he's my best friend. yn i'm serious

yn: *laughter* no way... i'm texting seokmin

mg: go ahead

yn: i still don't believe you

mg: go check my room

yn: i can't go into a strangers room!

mg: it's not. it's mine

yn: if you describe this place with enough detail, i'll do it

mg: if you go into the hallway, the one with the bathroom at the end of it... it's the only hallway really. it's the second door on the left

yn: you're not mixing up your lefts and rights?

mg: i'm sure

yn: okay. entering private property in 3... 2... 1 *click*

mg: you see?

[...]

yn: aww, you have a picture of you, me and seokmin on your desk!

mg: shit... i forgot about that

yn: no, it's cute. don't worry about it. i'm sorry i didn't believe you, mingyu, but are you really that unobservant?

mg: apparently. no wonder seungkwan knew...

yn: what?

mg: oh nothing. by the way, if you need somewhere to sleep tonight, you can borrow my room

yn: thank you! i'll change the sheets and leave your stuff alone, so don't worry

mg: i wasn't worried before now...

yn: SHIT!

mg: what's happening?

yn: wonwoo's wondering where i am. i have to explain this to him... love you. bye!!

previous | masterlist | next

☆ a/n: okay so👀👀 hope y'all were happy you werw right😌😌 also, mingyu needs some time to process, so stay tuned for thursday👀 as always, i hope you enjoyed this part, and i always appreciate likes, comments and reblogs!♡

fill out this form to be added to the taglist!

[musiquesduciel]

The two days I have to be at the office this week are the 2 days the semis are held so an hour of silence for me please because a moment wouldn’t do.

I, a Maxwell stan, had to be at work the day Australia played against Afghanistan in that legendary match so a moment of silence for me, kids.

[cap-ironman]

Cap-IronMan Rec Week 2024

We're announcing the return of the annual Cap-IronMan Rec Week!

For those new to Rec Week, here is how it works: each day of Rec Week will have a post asking for fanwork recs based on a different theme. Recs can be for fic, art, or other Steve/Tony (or Steve & Tony) fanworks of any kind. At the end we’ll create a giant masterlist of all the recs that were posted for everyone's reading and viewing enjoyment. 🎉

This year we surveyed the community about themes and received some really great ideas. Thank you for sharing!

Rec Week 2024 Themes and Schedule

Better Together Monday: July 22nd: Tell us all about those fanworks where Tony and Steve are better teammates, are more competent, complete missions more efficiently and are just overall better for working and being together!

Time Travel Tuesday: July 23rd Rec all those great fanworks where Tony or Steve (or Tony and Steve) travel to the past or the future or to an alternate past or future and discover unexpected realities and new truths!

Early Canon Wednesday: July 24th: Bring on all those fanworks set in those heady early days of canon where Steve and Tony have just met and are starting to work together.

DarkFic Thursday: July 25th: All you DarkFic lovers rec us those fanworks that hit that spot, the one where things go bad, or go from bad to worse (and even more worse) and the endings are unexpected.

Family Friday: July 26th: Rave about those fanworks about Steve and Tony being parents to young children, or single parents meeting other single parents, or starting a family or dealing with teenage kids or finding family, whatever family means.

Smut Saturday: July 27th: Give all the recs for those spicy fanworks that make your blood run hot or make your heart thump harder.

Cap-IM Sunday: July 28th: Rec all your favorite works created for one of the Cap-IronMan challenges!

There will be different ways to participate:

You can comment with your recs on the day on the special posts that will go up on our Dreamwidthcommunity. (Anon commenting will allow anyone to participate, even if they don’t have an account.)

Reply to the day’s tumblr post that will go up on our cap-ironman tumblr or the tweet on our cap-ironman twitter or reply to our IG post and add your recs to it.

During rec week you can make a Tumblr-Post and tag it with #capimrecweek within the first five tags on the post. Please include the day’s theme you are reccing for somewhere in the body of the post. On the dedicated day we will reblog posts for the day’s theme on our community tumblr and later include them in the masterlist.

During rec week post rec(s) on Twitter matching the day's theme and mention @ cap-ironman so that we can retweet it.

Share your recs to our cap-ironman discord server in the #stony-rec channel mentioning the day’s theme you are reccing for somewhere in the rec

So it’s time to start getting your recommendations ready to share with the Steve/Tony community and look out for the first post to go up on the 21st. 😘

If you have any questions, please let us know in the comments to the Dreamwidth post right here, send us an ask on Tumblr, reach out on the discord server or email us at cap.im.events@gmail.com or DM us on Discord.

[r4fe-cam3ron]

CHRISTMAS STORY EIGHT | MERRY CHRISTMAS, I MISS YOU — s. harrington x reader

w; angsty! but has a cute ending :p

an; close to the ending! posting this one early so i can post the surprise one today as well <3!!

Steve Harrington used to be a cocky individual - or so it seemed, with the front he always tried to keep up until he finally allowed those walls to tumble after Nancy Wheeler. 

He wanted to prove himself to her, in a strange manner, and now he realizes that, maybe, if he would’ve truly just been himself instead of someone who Tommy Hagan and Carol Barrett wanted to hang around, things probably wouldn’t have ended the way they did. 

But, then he wouldn’t have been able to meet you with the way things had gone with Nancy. You were the epitome of a true angel. The day you’d stepped through the doors was his very first day in Family Video. 

Any and every word had slipped from his mind, forgetting how rude it was to practically stare at someone you don’t even know. 

You’d laughed about it and had continued to come to Family Video every Thursday and Friday night - conveniently the days he works night. 

It was you who had made the first move - a smile as you leaned on your elbows on the counter towards him. His brain had gone to mush again at the look on your face and the smell of your perfume invading his nose. Floral with a bit of cherry. 

“So am I asking for your number or are you asking for mine?” It was such a stupid line, yet it had worked. His fingers fumbling for a pen, knocking them into the floor in the process, Robin pausing her sweeping to stare back at him with an unimpressed look on her face. 

Your fingers have pressed to your mouth as you laugh, watching him grab a yellow post-it note before handing it to you. Everything had gone great - everyone in the party loved you, they always wanted you to be with Steve at anything he was invited to. 

Then things suddenly, somehow, went sour. He’d become more guarded, seemingly less interested than he was at first. He started to push you away more until there was nothing left to push away from. 

Now he’s sitting all alone, watching some weird movie playing on the television. The tuxedo he was wearing was so comfortable that he could probably fall asleep in it. He’d left his Dad’s work party early - nothing but older men and women there. 

The cookie he eats drops crumbs onto the lapel of his jacket and a bit on his pants. He tosses the rest on a napkin and leans back as he blinks at the television. 

“What is this?” He mutters to himself, grabbing the remote and turning the television off. He sits in the quiet for a while, puckering his lips slightly before standing. He pats at his pockets, slipping the pack of cigarettes out. He walks outside without grabbing a coat, immediately lighting the cigarette. 

He wasn’t planning on walking around aimlessly, but that’s what ended up happening. And that’s how he found himself in front of your small, cozy home, staring inside at the tree and the warm lights. 

There’s chatter going on inside, a loud laugh from somewhere in the house that he recognizes as you. He steps a bit closer, stopping when he realizes how close he is to the lawn. 

Then he realizes what he’s doing. He’s staring into your home. Through a window. In the middle of the night, like a creep, in a tuxedo as he freezes to death. He barely registers the chattering in his teeth and how tense and shaky his body is. 

The door suddenly opens and you step out onto the doorstep, tilting your head. “Steve?” 

He slowly turns and looks at you, his lips pulling into a tight smile. “Hi. Hello.” 

“What are you doing here, staring through my window? And without a coat? Are you insane?” 

Yes. Maybe. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I was just aimlessly walking around.” 

“Oh,” He watches as your body slightly drops. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. “Uhm, would you…would you like to come in? Warm up for a bit?” 

“Is that…okay? I don’t want to intrude.”

You motion him inside. “It’s just some family. You’re not intruding.” He nods and follows you inside, shutting the door behind him. His nose is instantly hit with the smell of cinnamon, chocolate, and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

“Are you hungry?” You turn to him, arms dropping when you realize again that he doesn’t have a coat. 

“Not really.” He shakes his head. 

“Oh,” You nod. “Thirsty? My mom made some homemade hot chocolate.” 

He debates and eventually nods. “Yeah. That does sound nice.” 

You smile softly and he can’t help but think of how pretty you look with the warm Christmas lights hitting the side of your face, highlighting your features perfectly. 

“Okay, follow me.” 

He feels bad, truly. For standing outside your home and staring into the window, watching your family. And for how things ended. Once in the kitchen, he sits on the bar-stool, clearing his throat. 

“How have you been?” 

You glance over your shoulder when you grab a cup, shutting the cabinet door back as you shrug. You step over towards the stove where a pot sits on the eye, steam slowly rolling off the top. “I’ve been okay, I guess. Nothing really interesting happening,” You place the cup in front of him. “Whipped cream, marshmallows, or both?” 

“Both.” He nods. You nod and grab the bag of marshmallows, dropping a couple into the cup before opening the refrigerator door, grabbing the can out. 

“How about you?” You shut the door and step back, spraying some over the top of the layer of marshmallows. 

He watches. “Thanks,” He says when you stop. You nod and lean against the counter, looking at him the same way you did that night you’d used that one stupid line. “I’ve been…okay. I’ve been better.” 

You hum softly and nod, looking down at the counter this time. “What were you actually doing outside, Steve?” It sounds like you’re hopeful. Like you’re wanting him to answer in a certain way. 

“I was honestly aimlessly walking,” He says seriously. “I was at home because I left my dad’s work party early. Some weird movie was on television so I walked outside to smoke,” Your brows lift at that, eyes lifting to meet his. Smoke? When did he start smoking? “I hadn’t even realized I even started walking until I stopped.” 

“Oh.” 

You seem disappointed with that answer and he honestly doesn’t know what kind of answer you wanted. 

“So after this, you’re going to continue to not speak to me again?” 

Steve stares at you quietly, lips parting. He goes to speak, but someone enters the kitchen. “And who is this handsome man?” Your - very stumbly - aunt smiles, waving with her fingers. 

“This is Steve,” You motion towards him. He waves awkwardly. Oh, god. Family. Your family is here. “Steve, this is my Aunt Alexa.” 

“Well, what are you two doing in here? The fun’s in the living room - come on now!” She grabs your hand, pulling you with her. You glance back at Steve who sits there for a moment. Debating on if he should leave, and do exactly what you had just asked about, he sighs and stands, following you into the living room, standing next to you. 

“Oh, look at them,” Alexa grins, eyes drifting upwards. “There’s a rule you have to follow though.” She makes a slight face, wiggling her brows. Steve gulps and quickly looks up at the mistletoe your dad had put up this morning when your mom had passed. 

It seems as if he’d forgotten to take it down. 

“No,” You quickly shake your head. “No. No, we don’t have to follow the rules. It’s stupid. Besides, I believe Steve was leaving. He was just coming over to…” 

“To pick up my movie,” Steve lamely makes up an excuse. You wanted him to leave so he’ll go. “Thanks for the hot chocolate.” 

You nod. “I’ll walk you out.” Your cheeks are flushed red from embarrassment, cutting in front of him as you walk towards the door. 

“Sorry again,” He says softly. “I didn’t mean to…just—”

“Show up. I know,” You nod, eyes drifting outside towards the snow that falls. “You’ve made that clear.” 

Steve rubs his lips together before stepping out into the cold once again. Before you could close the door, he quickly turned. “I’m sorry for not calling you back.” 

“It’s fine, Steve. I understand—”

“No. You don’t understand,” He shakes his head. The tip of his nose and the top of his cheeks had begun to grow a pretty pink color. “I truly like you. I know it seems like I have a weird way of showing you, but I do,” 

Your arms cross over your chest when goosebumps have started to slowly lift across your arms. “I…when I begin to like someone, have strong feelings for them, I shut down,” He takes a breath. “Not because I don’t want to put in that effort; but because I’m scared too,” 

“When I was dating Nancy, everything seemed…easier in a way. I was doing things that I would never do again in a million years because I’m so embarrassed I acted that way. Granted, I was young, but still,” He takes a deep breath. “With you it seemed…complicated.” 

“Oh, thanks. That makes me feel better.” You let out a scoff, hand lifting to push the door shut. He quickly steps up again, pushing it back open. You're startled by his quick movements, head rearing back slightly. 

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” He shakes his head. “I should’ve worded that differently—”

“You think?” 

He finishes his words. “It was scary in a good way,” He nods. “It was new. Fresh. I could actually be myself with you - I never knew who I was, exactly, since I've always tended to be different around different people so I can match them effortlessly without them judging me,” 

Your eyes glance down at the ground before looking back up when he shifts closer. His freckles had faded across his nose. “I pushed you away because I felt…” He stops and his face falters. 

“Felt what?” You ask softly. 

“I love you,” He blurts out. “And it was…it was embarrassingly fast how easy it was to fall in love with you. I think that’s what made it complicated,” You let out a small breath. 

“Because it was easy. I’m used to difficult and ‘will they, won’t they’ type of relationship. This doesn't…this feeling doesn’t come close to even touching—”

He’s cut off by your lips brushing against his, your hands cradling his jaw. It takes him a moment, but he’s lifting his own hands to cradle your jaw in a gentle hold, stepping closer. 

Pulling away slowly, your nose nudges him once, twice, three times with a small smile. He presses another quick kiss against your lips. 

“If you do that again, Steve,” You look up at him. “I will not let you in again.” 

He nods and smiles softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you mind if I stay for a while longer?” He asks quietly. 

You reach over and shut the door. “No. I don’t mind,” You shake your head. “And, Steve?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I love you too,” You nod. “It was…scary to me as well - but it felt nice. Like nothing before.” 

His thumb presses into your cheek and he kisses you once again - soft, sweet, and slow before pulling away. “Good to know.” 

| tags — @oceanblvd111 ; @ali-r3n

| please do not copy my work! comments, feedbacks, reblogs, & requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated! ❅

| border — @/silkholland

[droughtofapathy]

DOA's Julia (HBO) Ficverse: Fic Masterpost

For the "hardcore droughtofapathy avis ficverse fans." - @trying-to-get-somewhere-real

I Will Try to Forgive Myself For Living in the Dark (Blanche Knopf/Judith Jones | 4,832 | M) Blanche Knopf had lost count of the number of times they'd met like this in a Plaza Hotel suite. As her world slowly vanished into darkness, Blanche slowly learned how to find the pleasure in blindness.

Substitution (Avis DeVoto/Blanche Knopf | 9,635 | E) Avis isn't stupid. She knows Blanche would rather have a different, small, slender, pale-skinned woman in her bed. But instead she's stuck with Avis, and that's something they're just going to have to live with.

Learn How to Settle for What You Get (Avis DeVoto/Judith Jones, Avis DeVoto/Blanche Knopf, Blanche Knopf/Judith Jones | 39,818 | M) Judith discovers what transpired in "Substitution" and it would just be rude to leave her out of the loop entirely, wouldn't it? That Blanche happens to be dead is another matter entirely.

Buried Sweetly in Her Yellow Hair (Blanche Knopf/Judith Jones | 9,459 | T) Avis, Blanche, and Judith find themselves with no other choice but to share a single hotel room for the night. A single hotel room with a single bed.

A Kind of Happiness that No One Really Knows (Avis DeVoto/OFC, Avis DeVoto & Julia Child | 7,755 | M) A romantic Sunday morning comes to a screeching halt when Julia lets herself into Avis's house to return a teapot and instead discovers Avis in a compromising position with another woman on her kitchen countertop. She reacts as tactfully as you would expect.

Alternative Ingredients (Avis DeVoto/Judith Jones | 12,178 | E) In the wake of Stanley's betrayal, Avis embarks on a frenzied fury-induced cleaning spree but is soon interrupted by Judith Jones with two bottles of wine in hand and a sympathetic ear. And Avis DeVoto has never turned her nose up at free liquor.

Secret Recipes (Avis DeVoto/Judith Jones, Avis DeVoto/OFC | 6,855 | M) Several weeks after their one-night-stand, Avis travels down to Manhattan to experience the wonders of an underground lesbian bar with Judith as her faithful wingwoman.

Tinsel Town (Avis DeVoto/Blanche Knopf/Judith Jones, Blanche Knopf/Judith Jones | 24,681 | M | Old Hollywood AU) In which Avis is a fading actress, Judith is a renown Hollywood starlet, and Blanche is a cutthroat Broadway producer. And it's a proper threesome.

If It's Thursday, It Must Be Nora (Avis DeVoto/OFC(s), Avis DeVoto/Judith Jones, Avis DeVoto/Blanche Knopf, etc. | 35,427 | E) Avis DeVoto gets railed six ways to Sunday. That's it. That's the whole fic.