#but i was stumbling and bumbling over my shit

[nectarine-neuroticism]

saw something insane at my local schnucks (grocery store) today.

there was a group of 20+ or so people (range of ages, race, gender, etc.; but at least 50% were white) lined up outside the schnucks in the spot where girl scouts usually stand.

i was really tempted to record them, but i was worried somehow things would be flipped on me and i would be pinned as harassing them. (i was also really tempted to swipe the shit off their stools they had set up, but then they could have reason to call the ops and press for assault charges or some shit; i kept my cool).

i was leaving w/ my groceries and this one girl called me out, "ma'am? would you like a starbucks giftcard?" and i stopped pushing my cart to turn around and see if i was the person being talked to. i was like "what's the catch lol... for free?" to which she agreed and handed me the card. i spotted BUNCHES of giftcards on the stool and that's what the other people were handing out too.

mind you, i have been boycotting starbucks since... september, i think? idk, it was whenever i found out the ceo was planning on suing their WORKERS UNION for freedom of speech (which i later learned was speaking about palestine on their social media page); and regardless of what the cause was even about, once i heard about a corpco suing their fucking workers union, i was like i'm out this bitch. so, i was like... cool, starbucks that's not on my dollar? i'll take it.

right as i was about to, dumbly, say thanks and ask what they're doing it for, this girl was like (idr if it was 1 or 2) (1) "it's the cost of the life of a palestinian child" or (2) "it's at the cost of the death of a palestinian child." it was something along those lines, but it was loud around me and i was in shock lmao. i just stood there and blinked for a moment, and she leaned back/crossed her arms like she was expecting some kind of argument, but i don't think she was expecting me to be "on their side." i just kind of stupidly said "this isn't even real, this is just... fake." i was meaning fake activisim, but my brain was fucking short circuiting.

i was like "this isn't on my dollar... it's on yours. starbucks already already has this money, if you don't use the card it is just plain waste."

because... if you buy a giftcard and don't put it towards the company that you paid, you are just saving them cups, ingredients, etc. they are SAVING money off you if you don't spend it. it is literally already paid for, so put it to use.

and she just stared at me dumbfounded, mouth open/close kind of thing, and the people next to her were not eager to intervene. so, i was like "this is on you. if this funds the war, you already funded it." and i just grabbed another off the stool and was like, "thanks for the free starbucks."

idk why, but i was jittering out of my skin. the adrenaline was high and i was pissed OFF. like... are you stupid? jesus christ, read a book and touch grass before you do some shit like this. there is a whole wide world of resources available to learn about how you can make a difference rather than give hundreds of dollars worth of revenue to a company you are boycotting. make it make sense??? idk, there was definitely some kind of disconnect there. i almost wished they would have said something back rather than me just awkwardly stutter at them, but maybe i just gave them food for thought and they were chewing?

i KNOW schnucks is damn well NOT letting y'all sit outside on their time for free lmao. once they see you, they will get you. someone is bound to complain.

<tl;dr> very misguided "pro-palestine" demonstration: a bunch of ppl bought out a starbucks of their giftcards and were handing them out for free*, then a very one-sided argument ensues. *free, meaning "at the cost of the life of a palestinian child," their words.

[littlexdeaths]

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: hope y’all like CHEESE, reader wears glasses

part two |

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

a/n: this is incredibly self indulgent and lame but i hope y’all enjoy xx.

“You’re staring… again.”

Nancy says under her breath, which has your eyes immediately darting away and back down toward your lunch out of sheer embarrassment.

“I was not staring….” you hiss, picking at the pile of peas on your tray.

“Oh, you soooo were,” she laughs, knocking her shoulder into yours. “Why don’t you just go and talk to him?”

You let out an exasperated breath before glancing over at your best friend. She’s giving you that soft yet encouraging gaze that’s entirely Nancy.

“Why would someone like him be interested in someone like me?”

Your voice is softer, but that underlying fear bleeds through nonetheless.

“I’m just so….” you trail off, chewing on your lower lip. “Boring.”

Your eyes have drifted back over to the hellfire table, where they seem to find themselves almost every lunch period now. Totally entranced by the male sitting at the end of the table.

Eddie Munson, dungeon master and local metalhead. Also the guy you’ve been harboring the biggest crush on since your junior year.

He looks even more pretty with the afternoon sunlight shining through the windows of the cafeteria, highlighting the warm chestnut hue of his fluffy curls. His lips are poised in an annoyed pout, fingers drumming on the table in rapid succession while he listens to Dustin’s nervous ramblings.

“He’s just so— outgoing and doesn’t give two shits what these dipshits around here think of him.”

Your lips can’t help but quirk up into a small smile when you witness him tossing a pretzel at Mike’s head.

“You are not boring,” Nancy sighs, her curls bouncing when she shakes her head in distain. “But you’re not gonna know if something could work out between you if you don’t at least try.”

Your snort has her rolling her eyes, but yours are still transfixed on the boy in question. So much so you haven’t noticed the way your glasses continue to slip down the bridge of your nose.

“I doubt he even knows my name, Nance.”

When your eyes suddenly catch his chocolatey brown ones, you feel mortified. You’ve been very careful about your… admiring during lunch or in between classes. But Nancy had momentarily distracted you, and now you’d been caught red handed.

Unbeknownst to you, this isn’t the first time he’s noticed your wandering gaze. Soft eyes that are filled with the utmost longing and kindness. Someone with a reputation such as Eddie Munson doesn’t have looks like that thrown his way very often.

So it’s no surprise he’s caught on.

But you don’t seem to notice the way he always glances back once you look away, dark eyes seeking out your figure in the halls. The longing of his own for you to finally meet his gaze. But your nose is either stuck in a book or those pretty eyes are trained on your feet.

It was maddening.

You quickly break his curious stare and jump to your feet, missing the way he shoots up from his own seat. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and leave your tray abandoned.

“I gotta go… I’ll see you later, Nance,” you say before she even has time to protest, keeping your head down as you make your way toward the exit.

Mentally still kicking yourself for being caught gawking at him like a bumbling idiot. But your heart leaps into your throat when you hear the slapping of sneakers on the linoleum behind you.

Before you can even process what’s happening you all but collide into a denim clad chest, gasping softly when his arms slip around your waist to catch you before you almost stumble backwards onto your ass.

“Whoa, easy there,” he chuckles, those same pouty lips quirking up into a lopsided grin. “Didn’t mean to scare ya…”

When he releases you, your whole body deflates— already missing the warmth of his palms. Even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

“Uh… sorry, did you need something?” you ask, unable to hide the confusion in your tone.

He purses his lips, twisting his rings on his fingers in almost a nervous manner.

Why would he be nervous?

“I just had a question is all…” he mumbles, “and honestly, I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now.”

And your heart nearly stops when he carefully pushes your glasses back up the bridge of your nose.

“You free tonight?”

[bbydoll18xx]

I've Got a Wand and a Rabbit

Paige stumbles into a sex shop you work at, and you give her some satisfactory customer service.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.6k

Themes: sex toys, masturbation, and sex mentioned

A/N: hii so I thought of this idea when I was lounging in my pool and I kinda love it. I have a few ideas for a second part if you guys are up for it

~

“That’ll be 49.95,” you say brightly, your customer service voice on full display, as you carefully wrap an eight inch glass dildo up and put it in a bag. Your customer, a tall, muscular man with shifty eyes and a baseball hat hanging low over his face, quickly swiped his card, avoiding eye contact with you, as you finished the transaction. 

“Have a great day!” You call as he rushes out of the store and into his large pickup truck. 

Ah. The joys of dealing with the closeted ones. It was certainly more appealing than the creepy straight dudes who offered to take you home and prove to you that the vibrators that adorned the entire back wall of the store were not as good as their own dicks. 

That was fucking bullshit.

You had prided yourself in being open with both your sexuality and the joys of sexual pleasure since you were old enough to know what it entailed. And you were not shy about sex or masturbation. It was a totally normal thing. 

You have often referred to yourself as The Fairy Godmother of Orgasms. Each of your friends had been given a vibrator sometime during college, with subtle instructions to learn how to make themselves cum. Because men just aren’t up for the job these days.

So when you picked up a job at the newest, trendiest sex store just outside of Storrs to help make some extra money for school, it seemed like all of the stars aligned. 

You shake your head, giggling at the hilarity of the man’s sheer discomfort and apply a layer of lip gloss to your full, pink lips. There were a few customers lingering in the store but it had been pretty quiet today, as it was the middle of the week. 

A few minutes later, the jinging of the bell on the door alerts you to a group of girls giggling loudly, faces blushing in a way that you had become quite accustomed to seeing in the store. 

College students were your favorite customers, as you loved seeing young women being open about having fun and safe sex lives, and you wave warmly at them.

“Hi there! Just let me know if you have any questions!” You chirp, sending a wink over to the tall blonde girl whose cheeks were the brightest shade of red in the group.

Her face darkens, spreading down the pale skin of her neck as the other girls shove her teasingly, and she almost falls into a rack of lingerie.

Muttering an apology, she fixes the rack, running her hand across her face, glancing back at you before running after her friends where they had assembled in the back of the store. 

Her bumbling behavior amuses you, and it was so unlike her.

You had recognized her from the second she had walked in. Paige Bueckers face was plastered all over UConn’s campus, and you were a victim of the tiktok edits bombarding your phone.

You were a willing victim at that.

Paige was not just a great basketball player. She was also incredibly kind and unusually humble. It also did not help that she was gorgeous, and you were not ashamed to admit that you had thought about those long, nimble fingers and her muscled thighs from time to time. 

Or maybe a little more than that. 

You are pulled out of your increasingly naughty thoughts by loud laughs, and you look over to where KK Arnold is holding up a huge purple dildo.

“Paige, I think this would be perfect for you!” She snorts, sending the other girls into a fit of howls.

You chuckle, putting a hand over your mouth as you observe Paige’s obvious embarrassment from behind the counter.

“God, KK, could you be any louder,” Paige mutters, eyes flickering to where you were pretending not to watch. “Shoulda just bought this shit online.”

“That’s no fun,” Aubrey says, gazing at the section of strap ons with an interested look on her face. 

The bickering continues for a few minutes, with Ice Brady and Aubrey occasionally making a few comments before you decide to go over to the group.

“Is there anything you’re looking for in particular today?” You ask. “I know the selection can be a bit…overstimulating.” You bite your lip as you finish your sentence, inwardly cringing at your provocative choice of words. 

Paige coughs, and KK erupts into another fit of laughter, and before the blonde could even form a word, KK says, “Home girl needs a nice vibrator. She is very single, and the ol’ right hand just ain’t cuttin’ it anymore.”

“Dude, oh my god,” Paige groans, hands once more shielding her face. 

“I totally understand how that is,” you say sympathetically. “Let me show you our most popular vibrators.”

You reach for Paige’s hand, somewhat surprised as she allows you to take it, and you guide her to the back wall. 

“Now this one is a classic. They call it a rabbit because of the cute lil bunny ears, which is great for the clit. And it has a dildo attached, so it’s a two in one type of deal.”

You look up at Paige, trying to gauge her reaction, and she looks completely stunned. Blushing, you put down the brightly colored toy. “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable at all.”

“No, not at all,” Paige mumbles, a far cry from her usual confidence. “This is all just new to me.”

You nod understandingly. 

“This one might be more your speed. It’s called a wand, and it’s perfect for beginners. Not much of a learning curve for this one,” you say, holding out the box for her to inspect. 

The wand was purple and small enough to throw in a discrete bag, and with a rechargeable battery and its waterproofness, it was a fan favorite. 

“Alright, I think I’ll try this one then,” Paige says, her voice a little more sanguine as the initial embarrassment of buying a sex toy wore off. 

Aubrey, KK, and Ice erupt into loud cheers and a round of applause, and Paige responds by giving them the middle finger.

“You guys are hilarious. You should come in more often,” you laugh.

“Maybe I will if you’re working,” Paige responds, looking you up and down. 

It was your turn to blush, her sudden boldness surprising you, and your heart rate jumps at the idea. 

Paige follows you over to the checkout counter, where you ring up the toy, adding your employee discount for good measure before bagging it up and handing it to her, your fingers brushing up against hers as you do so. The contact sends shivers through your body, and you immediately think of your own toys waiting for you in your bedside drawer. 

You were really going to fucking need them after this shift. 

“Have fun. If you ever have any questions, you know where to find me,” you tease, not wanting this to be the last you see of her.

“I will,” Paige responds, sending you a cheeky wave before leaving, her friends in tow.

“She will definitely be back, don’t worry!” KK exclaims, before Paige pulls her out of the store by the hood of her sweatshirt.

You certainly hoped so.

~

Life continued on the next few weeks as normal. You went to work. You went to class. And you spent even more time with your legs spread thinking about Paige. 

You didn’t necessarily mean for it to happen; it just did. If her face was not completely clouding your thoughts before she had stumbled into the store, it was now. Even your dreams were swirled with images of that long blonde hair and her mouth, her tongue peaking out seductively.

And because you were quite single, you had turned to the toys. 

You were walking through campus, eagerly heading back to your apartment after your lecture so you could enjoy yet another solo session, when you spot Paige, KK, and Jana walking up to you.

KK was leading the charge, enthusiastically waving to get your attention, whilst Paige was trailing behind, a shy smile on her face.

“Well look who it is!!” KK teases, introducing you to Jana, who had a knowing look on her face. She reaches a hand out to you. “I’ve heard lots about you,” she smirks in Paige’s direction, who rolls her eyes.

You wave at the blonde, eyes crinkling from the sun and the excitement of seeing her again. “Sooo,” you trail. “Any issues with it?” 

The question was vague, but all three girls seemed to know exactly what you were referring to, and Paige flushes yet again. She looks at the other two girls, shooting them harsh looks until they hesitantly walk away from the two of you, leaving you with the privacy you were dying to have.

Paige coughs. “Um, I haven’t really been able to figure it out, ya know?”

You try not to laugh. “What’s there to figure out? Just turn it on and go to town.” 

“I tried,” she nearly whines, clearly embarrassed.

“And?” You prod, confused as to what she was so obviously missing.

“I couldn’t, ya know, finish,” she mumbles, looking at you with a small pout.

You wanted to kiss the pout right off those lips. 

“Need some help then? I’m kind of a professional,” you suggest boldly, hoping she was feeling the electricity flowing between you. 

“God, yes,” she breathes. 

It was all over from there. 

~

If anyone was wondering, yes my friends do really call me the fairy godmother of orgasms. And yes I am very passionate about my love for vibrators LOL

I hope you enjoyed!! Do we want a part 2??

My inbox is always open

xoxo katy

Part 2

Part 3

[strangerstilinski]

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘁𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1.7k

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: older!mechanic!eddie, fem!reader, use of 'girl' in reference to reader, oral (m receiving), semi-public sex, bumbling/awkward/lovestruck eddie (as is typical for my writing lol), i think that's it but lmk if i missed anything

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

“-and anyway, all I’m saying is, you’re gonna get a lot more years outta your car if you bring it in to get an oil change every six months or so-”

It’s really not that you don’t care about what he has to say. Your lack of focus on his advice has entirely more to do with the way his thick fingers are curled around the pint of beer in front of him. The metal wrapped around the base several of his fingers clink softly every time the older man nervously drums them against the glass. All you can think about is those fingers in your hair, gripping the fat of your ass or your hips, stretching out your cunt in preparation for his cock.

Your stomach flips a little at the sight of his fingernails. Scrubbed clean of any of the oil or grime that had been wedged into his nail-beds when you’d first met a week ago at the auto body shop, the little patch sewn into his coveralls had blessed you with the name that you finally utter now.

“Eddie?” You interrupt sweetly, glossed lips pursing when his eyes snap to yours.

“Shit. Am I talking too much? I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” He rambles in distress, bringing ringed fingers up to scratch at the coarse stubble lining his jaw. “It’s just- When you asked me to get a drink, at first I kinda thought you were just angling for a discount on repairs, y’know? I mean, pretty thing like you? Actually wanting go out with this old mess? It seemed ridiculous, but- Well, now we’re here and you’ve already paid off the invoice for your car and I’m a little-”

“Eddie.”

His words cut off with a quiet clack as his teeth snap together, eyes searching your own in the dimly lit bar.

“I want you,” Your hand meets where his is wrapped around the sweaty pint glass, fingers hooking underneath his own as you guide your laced hands to rest on the sticky tabletop, “I.. really want you.” You repeat with a bit more emphasis, the words a little softer with vulnerability this time, a little more desperate.

“What, like-? Like right now?” Eddie is already looking around the bar with wide eyes before his gaze flicks back to you, question swimming in their brown depths, “Here?” He murmurs in quiet disbelief.

You give him a coy smile, long lashes blinking at him longingly, “Here.”

Eddie rises to his feet a bit clumsily, like perhaps his body was trying to respond to your words before his brain, “Shit. Fuck. Okay, sweetheart. If you’re sure, I mean. Uh, we.. We could.. Um-”

You're far too worked up to find his racing thoughts as endearing as you think that you normally would, “Eddie-”

He’s dragging you up from the other side of the booth in a flash, large hands falling to your waist as he begins to guide you through the desolate Tuesday night bar crowd with his chest pressed warmly to your spine.

“Just come with me, baby,” Eddie trips over a his own feet in his heavy boots and nearly takes you down with him, narrowly managing to keep his feet underneath himself as he tries to keep you from stumbling, “Shit, sorry-” He grumbles into your ear from behind, the huskiness of his voice and the warmth of his breath prompting a pleasant shiver up your spine.

Once the two of you have stumbled your way down the dark hallway at the back, you spin around to let your arms snake around his waist from behind. Eddie is fumbling with the sticky knob of the bathroom door, the hairs at the base of his tummy soft under your fingers and you can't help but dip your hand beneath his waistband where the hair spreads further.

“Sshit-” Eddie fumbles with the door when your fingertips just graze the base of his cock, the skin silky smooth under your palm as you push a little further so you can wrap your small hand around him, “Oh, you're a f-fucking.. menace, aren’t you? N-not so sweet after all.” He tells you, not an ounce of bite to his words, more of a groan of approval than anything.

Your only response is to press your lips to the side of his throat beneath his wild mane of curls, snapping a small nip of your teeth against the curve of his shoulder as you work your hand torturously slow on his cock.

Distracted by your touch, Eddie swings the door open with with a bit too much enthusiasm. He dives forward to catch it before it can collide with the dirty porcelain sink on the inside wall and only narrowly gets a hold of it in time.

As soon as the door is secured behind you again, you're dropping to your knees in front of him. Your mouth finds the soft pudge of his tummy, and metal and leather clink and slap beneath your quick hands as you work his belt and get his jeans open enough to tug out his cock. It springs up as it's released, half hard already and bobbing in front of you like it's taunting you for just how badly you want him. His cock is gorgeous — average length but thick and beautifully curved just a bit to the right.

You hungrily eye the tip where he's flushed dark pink, shiny and dribbling just the tiniest bit already, shining in the hazy light coming from the exposed lightbulb in the ceiling.

Eddie lets out a groan as you take him in your hand again and lick at his tip, savoring the small beads of precome that meet your tongue. You hum at the salty tang of them, dragging your mouth down the length of him, tracing the soft vein along the underside of his cock with your lips and tongue.

“Oh, shit,” Eddie moans, his hand finding it's way into your loose hair nearly immediately. He doesn’t pull, he doesn’t push, his hands are entirely too gentle. His fingertips pet soft at your head like he’s praising you already and you’ve hardly even started, “You.. Baby girl, you don't have to-”

You lean back from where you'd been swirling your tongue around the head, giving his length a couple of short tugs as you look up at him through your lashes with a huff, “Mm, and maybe I want to. You ever think of that?”

He balks, hips jerking minutely and incidentally thrusting his cock toward your pouting lips, “I.. Um-”

“Maybe I’m a young, confident woman who knows what she wants. And maybe I want to suck you off. Did that not cross your mind? Hm? That maybe I might like having your dick in my mouth?” You continue, voice dropping a few octaves.

A soft gasp turned groan falls from the older man’s lips when you lean back in to suck lightly at the tip and the sound has your thighs clenching together against the wave of arousal that curls in your tummy.

“Do you?” Eddie can’t help but ask, the question coming out a quiet groan, “Like it?”

“Mhm,” You hum around him, pushing further down his length to take in more of him, letting him feel the way your throat constricts around the head of his cock when you gag before pulling all the way off again, “Love it.”

“I just thought- Pretty thing like you shouldn’t have t- God. I, uh. You.. Shit. You’re certainly ohmygod- g-good at it.” He struggles to get his words out when you take him back between your lips, but then he’s huffing a quiet sigh of distress when you remove the warm heat of your mouth from his length once again.

“Good..?” You repeat in question.

“Wh- Huh?”

Eddie is blinking down at you dumbly, his hand flexing in your hair as he tries to clear his head. It's infuriatingly sexy.

“I’m on my knees for you in a dirty bar restroom and I’m ‘good’ at sucking your dick? It's.. ‘Good?’” You say the word with distaste, one eyebrow ticking up on your forehead in challenge as you place his tip back against your lower lip teasingly. You let it rest there, one hand coming up to his waist to keep his hips from jutting forward as you part your lips and let a warm breath wash over the wet head of this cock.

“Shit, sweetheart. Did I say good? I meant great! I, uh, phenomenal! M-mindblowing fuck-” He moans loud around the word when you reward him by taking him into your mouth again.

You let him rest heavy on your tongue, sucking and bobbing your head in slow drags while he sighs out a desperate little sound at the feeling.

“Fuck. You- You’re perfect, baby girl. You have to know that. An angel. Gotta know how much you’re- Ohh-”

The surprised groan that cuts him off has you soaked beneath your panties, moaning around his length in response.

“-How much you’re rockin’ my world right now.” He finishes weakly.

You pull off to give him an amused smile, jerking him in earnest with one hand and wiping spit from your lips with the other, “Oh, I rock your world, huh, old man?” You tease.

“God damn it,” Eddie breathes the words, dragging you up by your shoulders until you’re standing in front of him again, “You really are a little brat, aren’t you?”

But his mouth is on yours before you can respond, beer coated tongue breaking through the seam of your lips, a wide palm and fingers covered in cool rings encasing the back of your neck as he leads you just a few steps backward, until your spine is hitting the door.

Your keening moan is lost in the kiss, and as life-changing as his cock and fingers and mouth prove to be that evening, it’s his whispered words of praise and the sweet kisses he presses to your hair as he catches his breath at the end of it all that truly ruin you for anyone else.

As it turns out, the older mechanic who fixed up your car? Eddie? He’s kinda it for you.

[pygmi-cygni]

Playing Favorites

poe dameron x reader

summary: your position as resource agent isn't high on the christmas card list for most, but you take it seriously. As seriously as you can, while still having to scold grown men for their....antics.

@brighterthanlonelywords REMEMBER THIS THING WE TALKED ABOUT IDK IF YOU DO BUT I SWEAR I DIDN'T FORGET!! in my poe dameron post like three weeks ago lmao you gave me this idea

content: sexual innuendos, pining, flirting, banter, angst...it's a poe fic like you know why ur here

there is a brief scene where reader is harrassed, it isn't sexual or anything dw

reader is afab, described w braidable hair, texture not described/racially ambiguous

You'd taken the job for the scenery. Being from Kamino, you hadn't seen much farther than your window, let alone anything other than rain. Your parents had told you stories of the skies, promising to leave the soggy planet. In the end, you escaped on a ragtag Rebel ship recruiting pilots. Immediately upon landing at the lush landscape of D'Qar, you'd known it was the right choice. The view floored you every time.

But nothing could compensate for the amount of utter bullshit you experienced as a resource agent.

So...you decided to do barrel rolls in an unregistered X-Wing?

Uh, yeah.

Without a helmet or a pilot's license?

uhhh....

You were the epitome of a short fuse. Resource agents were essentially the Resistance's HR team. Strange, because absolutely nothing about the Resistance followed 'protocol', but you supposed there needed to be some kind of discipline in place.

No, your crew wasn't making many friends in the Res, nor were you the most celebrated, but somebody had to do it.

Though, you wished it was somebody else.

Mind melting to a thoughtless mush as you listened to a cadet stumble over excuses, you flicked through the remaining meetings scheduled.

Team training, team training, briefing with Organa....fuckkkk.

Your favorite piece of shit, Poe Dameron, had another protocol screening set for his next mission. You gotta be kidding me.

Normally, pilots had a protocol training at the beginning of their enlistment and then once every six months. It was long and tedious; going through safety maneuvers and briefing procedure to make sure everything was up to date. But, because Dameron was special and liked to play by his own rules, General Organa had started mandating his for every mission.

Which meant three hours out of your day because somebody didn't read the Terms and Conditions.

This is such bullshit.

Schooling your expression into neutrality as the bumbling cadet finished his story, you tried to stop your fingers from crushing the tablet in your hands.

Being the equivalent of a galactic HR meant that you weren't gonna be on anybody's Christmas list. Yeah, the job was tedious, but you weren't good enough at flying to be a pilot and couldn't fix a droid to save your life, so you used your skills to help in the way you could.

You were here to stop a war, not make friends.

You could feel Dameron before you saw him. The ego that shone like a halo around him was sparkling like a disco ball as he loudly bantered with his crewmates. General Organa had already arrived, and shot you an amused glance as you rubbed your temples.

Inside voice, Dameron, for the love of Hoth.

"Evening, Commander," you said briskly, gesturing towards the prep room doors, "you know where to start."

He made eye contact and grinned. "Right to business, I like it. Cute hair, sweetheart," he added smoothly. You bit back a frown and followed Organa into the small briefing station. Initially you'd been excited to wear your new braids, but his incessant flirting dampened your pride.

"Flirting with an HR officer is awfully brave of you," you fired back.

"I like a challenge." His smirk sparkled in the low light.

General Organa, used to your bickering, waved at the holo above the console.

"This mission is simple, Dameron, a recon on the Mid Rim. You'll be out there for around two standard days. You are required to check in every twelve hours, and return with the information here," she explained, highlighting a small map underneath the mission summary. Dameron leaned forward, brow set.

"A map....of Abelor? That's a spice trade port, General, why does the Resistance need to be involved?" His confusion mirrored your own. Organa held up a hand, continuing.

"There have been rumors that First Order informants are using the spice port to smuggle information planet-to-planet without needing to go through protocol checks. This is merely a recon to stake out the area. You'll be meeting with an ally, Rhett Mosley." A lanky man popped up next to the summary. He was mostly covered in tribal tattoos, and a pair of thick goggles hid most of his face.

Poe nodded, copying the info on his personal tablet.

"Any questions?"

At his subtle shake of the head, she gestured to you and bowed. "Continue with the protocol, ten hours until takeoff."

You both murmured a farewell and she left with a swish of her cloak. For a moment, Poe was suspended in his own head, gaze distant and stricken. Awkwardly, you shuffled around, hoping to rouse him.

He snapped out of it, and his trademark grin spread across his face. "Just you and me now, sweetheart," he said, bumping your shoulder.

"Just get in the fucking X-Wing."

You sat by, bored as Poe droned about the processes in his ship. He knew the steps, you knew he knew the steps, but because of this stupid loophole in the system, you both had to sit here for another hour.

"Maker- look, Dameron," you sighed, scrubbing your hand over your face, "I know that you're more than capable of doing this mission. I'll sign all your papers, I just want this to be over."

He paused in the middle of showing you the intricate seamwork on the inside of his security belt. A mock look of abhorrence crossed his face.

"What! You wound me, baby. I thought you loved our time together," he bemoaned, batting his dark lashes.

Your filter was slowly coming loose. "Yes, how could I forget, Dameron, how enjoyable it is to listen to your terrible pick-up lines while you bullshit your way through a protocol exam?"

This earned a small chuckle. To your dismay, a small part of your ego preened at the sound. You liked making people laugh. And if Commander Dameron happened to be the one laughing....well, that was okay too.

"No it's not," you snapped. You hated him. This was-

"What? Yes it is, I just showed you." Poe was looking at you, head tilted in confusion. You blushed, realizing you'd said that out loud.

"Right. Er...sorry, Commander, continue. I didn't...nevermind," you muttered, willing your cheeks to stop flaming. He wiggled his brows at you again.

"Feeling a little hot and bothered, Lieutenant?" Poe grinned, the pink tip of his tongue poking out. You scowled at your feet. Since childhood, your cheeks flamed like hell at the slightest embarrassment.

"That's alright," he continued his conversation, "I know I have that effect on people. Sorry to inconvenience you, honey, I know you still think you hate me."

You aggressively signed off on his report, shoving him the document and wiping the growing smile off your face.

"Good luck, Commander, you're cleared for takeoff."

"Can I get a goodbye kiss?" he called after you.

The mission, by all accounts, was a resounding success. You didn't care; still riding the high of being Dameron-free for at least a few days. The base had been, to nobody's surprise, remarkably calm and quiet for the weekend.

But, like clockwork, our favorite flyboy was marched into your office at 7 sharp, sporting a black eye and a toothy grin. His droid, a cute BB unit, was beeping frantically, occasionally rolling into his feet.

You looked up from your caf, unamused.

"Early bird gets the right hook, I see," you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face.

"Left, actually," he said sheepishly, rocking on his heels. The corrections officer that led him in rolled her eyes, snapping a salute and walking off.

"Dameron, we've had this conversation too many times for me to pretend like you didn't deserve it."

As if on cue, he threw himself across from your desk, hands folded. "No, no, listen," he wheedled, "look, it's a long story, and I wasn't trying to start anything, swear-"

"BB-8, recent log information, please," you asked crisply. Poe shot his friend a desperate look.

"Beebs," he hissed, "come on, stick with me on this one, dude!" BB-8 blinked, then rolled over to you and stuck out his little thumb drive.

You thanked him, kindly patting his tummy. Preening, the little droid circled his pilot friend tauntingly. Poe glared balefully. "I give you tummy rubs too," he grumbled.

A grainy camera feed pulled up. Dameron and another pilot, clearly drunk, were getting heated over something you couldn't make out. Truthfully, the other guy swung first, but Poe was not clear of fault.

"You slapped him with a plate," you deadpanned, rewinding to watch it again. Poe rubbed his neck.

"Well, yeah, but..." he trailed off, searching for a good excuse.

"I do recognize that he punched first, but you still antagonized him. I'll send you to my advisor and they'll do a case review for you." Eager to get on with your morning and shove Poe off your desk, you waved at him to leave.

His lower lip pushed out. Goddamn the puppy eyes, I swear to Maker.

"But why won't you clear it for me?" His voice was small, pleading. Beebs, clearly unamused, thumped against Poe's knee.

"I don't have the authority."

"But...wait, wait. I could take you by the cantina and you could ask the people that were there, and maybe...I'll buy you a drink, and we can chat for-"

"Dameron," you said again, tone gentler. "I'm sorry. But I'd lose my job."

"I've heard my company is worth it," he winked, then winced, for he'd winked with his bruised eye. BB-8 booped wearily. You felt for the little guy. Opening a desk drawer, you pulled out a small tube of varnish and gave the droid a shine for his efforts.

"Stop pampering my droid and pay attention to me," Poe complained, "he'll start picking favorites."

You sighed, looking at the pilot with a tired expression. Even though he gave you trouble, Poe was a good pilot and a good friend. He teased and flirted and drove you up the wall, but he was a good guy. You didn't want his record to be tainted, he wouldn't come around anymore.

Woah, where did that come from?

"Poe," you said slowly. He noticeably brightened at his name, putting as much into his smile as you'd ever seen. "I cannot clear you from this...event. However, if you write a written apology and an explanation I can...forget it."

He threw his arms around your shoulders and crowed in success. BB-8 whirred in surprise. You didn't lean into the embrace, too shocked to do anything. He smelled...nice. Like metal and cinnamon.

"Thanks, honey," he whispered, "I owe you one." Pulling away, he poked BB-8 in in the tummy and smirked.

"Told you she'd listen," he whispered smugly. As he whistled and strolled off, a faint blush dotted your cheeks.

He really was a sweetheart.

Night time was your favorite on base. It was quiet, solitary. Walking past the housing on your nightly check, you smiled at the sounds of muffled laughter coming from the bunks. It was like a family. Dysfunctional, yeah, but it was home.

It had been a long day. You had two hallways to go before you could collapse in your own bed. Tomorrow was your day off - you could finally sleep in.

You were playing with the zipper on your jacket as you rounded the corner.

A solid block of person collided with your cheek. Stumbling, you caught yourself on the wall.

"S-sorry, I didn't mean to-"

An unfamiliar scowl glowered down at you. Your apology trailed off. This guy was huge, probably six feet tall and heavyset. His face looked familiar, what with the sharp cut across the bridge of his nose.

Oh. This was the guy Poe had been tussling with.

"Sorry, sir, I need to get by," you said, shaken from the impact. He didn't move. Thompson was printed on his breast pocket, with a green insignia. Green Squadron.

"Heard you had something to do with this," he snarled, jabbing a thumb at his rank. Suspended.

"I..." a rush of panic swelled inside you. This is why you didn't play favorites. You buckled one time and now this guy was gonna wreck your shit. Fucking Dameron, shit shit shit-

"I..I didn't do your intake," you stammered, balking at his imposing figure. "It wasn't my case-"

"No, but pretty boy gets to fly tomorrow, and guess who took his?" Thompson was seething, eyes narrowed to slits. You were amazed that Poe had the balls to smash a plate on this guy. You wanted to curl up and cry.

Help. Help. Somebody help me oh my god I'm going to die.

There were rows of doors on either side of you. You could knock on any of them, but he'd surely grab you before you made it. If you screamed, maybe somebody would-

Stars and pain exploded and you were catapulted backwards, crumpling against the doorhandle. The wind had been knocked out of you so sharply not even a gasp had escaped your lips. Choking and heaving, you scrambled backwards. Pain was everywhere. You weren't sure where he'd hit you.

I'm going to die.

Thompson sneered down at you, making a grab for your collar. Desperately, you scratched at his face, tearing open his smashed nose. The reopened wound gushed, sticky red trickling down your fingers and into his raging mouth. You gagged, but quickly cowered as he swung again at your face.

His fist smashed against the door, and you mentally apologized to whoever was trying to sleep. Air was becoming harder to swallow, and you realized his hand was twisting your shirt too tight around your throat.

uh oh uh oh fuck you sputtered and gasped and tried to smack him off, but he grabbed your wrists

fuck-

You fell backwards; rolling out of his grasp and into a dark room. Something yanked your shoulders backwards and you were shoved into darkness. Finally able to suck in a breath, a bloodcurdling shriek ripped from your bruised throat.

A large hand clapped over your lips. You wailed louder, trying to escape the sweaty palm.

stop it stop it HELP stop stop SOMEBODY FUCKING HELP

A ringing in your ear, punctuated by a loud male voice.

"Stop it," he hissed, removing his hand from your mouth. You panted and struggled against the forearms bracing your stomach. The first punch had landed on your sternum, and the entirety of your torso was screaming in pain.

"Hurts," you whimpered, trying to shove away. The man let go and you collapsed forward, gagging from the pain. A small night light glowed in the corner of the room, highlighting a familiar mop of curls.

"Poe," you wheezed, sitting up against the door. A muffled commotion could be heard outside - likely your fellow officers finally detaining the rogue Green pilot.

He nodded, wiping his brow. Grabbing the light from his desk, he brought it over to look at you. The warm light added a softer glaze to his eyes. He looked bleary. You'd probably woken him up.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said, gently coming to sit next to you. You sniffled, still shaking.

"Don't move," he whispered, free hand coming up to carefully inspect your face. You didn't look at him, ashamed to be in this state. The light he was holding was for a child - shaped like a small cartoon Bantha. Cute, you thought listlessly.

Trembling, you could still feel Thompson's hands around your throat. You choked again, throat constricting around nothing. Fear still pierced your bones, and you folded forwards, sobbing into your knees.

Poe, surprised, swore and set the light down. His hands fluttered over your back, unsure of where it was okay to touch. He settled for your hair, petting the plaits gently as you cried.

The sounds outside had long quieted before you ran out of tears. A cold bottle was pressed into your hands. Cool water trickled down your throat. You swallowed gratefully. The room, still dark, brightened again as Poe flicked on another night-light.

Your lower lip was trembling, this time with embarrassment. You could feel Poe's concerned gaze tracing your face.

"You need to go to the medbay?" His gravelly, sleep-warm voice was quiet, hand still running over your hair.

You shook your head.

"Anything broken?"

Feeling around your ribs, you winced. Bruised, nothing broken. Again, you shook your head, clutching your water.

Poe nodded, scooting to sit next to you. You sat together, slowly coming down from the cortisol spike. Your limbs still shook, heartrate erratic against your aching chest.

"You're okay in here," Poe murmured, "Thompson may be strong, but he can't break through doors." You shivered, ducking your head into his shoulder. He understood, falling quiet again

Your throat was raw, and bruises pulsed under your skin. Eye contact was impossible, the embarrassment forcing your eyes down. You looked like a wreck - hair falling loose and bruises littering your body. The spot on the back of your head throbbed from the impact with the door.

Poe's fingers traced lightly, and you whimpered when they hit the sore spot. He retracted his hand quickly, apologizing rapidly.

"Hang on, hang on." His warm shoulder disappeared, and you sniffled at the loss. He returned a moment later with an ice pack, which he gently settled on the back of your head. The cold was soothing.

"I'm sorry," he said, gaze mournful. "This is kinda my fault, isn't it."

You squinted at him in the low light. "What?" Your voice was raspy.

"I made you get him in trouble, right? If I hadn't..." he gestured off towards your office, "y'know, then...well, you'd probably be on Thomspon's nice list."

You huffed a dejected laugh. "No, it's-" you cleared your throat, taking another sip of water. "it's okay." It wasn't, not really, but you didn't have the energy to be mad.

"I see why you don't play favorites," Poe said, smiling sadly. You gave him a half smile.

A soft beep came from your left and you turned. BB was tilted questioningly, large eye blinking.

"Hey, beebs," you whispered, reaching out to poke his antennae. He whirred and nudged your hand. "I'll be okay, it's just a couple bruises."

Your mind was still reeling. Poe scratched his friend's tummy then turned back to you.

"Why don't you stay here for tonight?" His eyes were genuine and concerned. You looked at him wearily. His hair was ruffled and cheeks flushed from sleep. Cute.

What?

"I won't try anything, promise," he reassured, hands raised placatingly. "I just don't want you walking around like this."

You swallowed and nodded. Poe took the water and the ice pack, setting them nearby. He hooked his arms under your shoulders and lifted you gently, stabilizing you when you swayed.

"You should really get checked out," he said, frowning."

"It's okay," you rushed, stumbling back. Poe grabbed your elbow to keep you from falling.

"It's okay to need help, you know. Nobody's gonna get mad." His eyes were gentle. Your lip trembled again, and you tried to pull away. Instead, Poe pulled you into a hug.

Your sob was muffled against his sleep shirt. He shushed you, hands tracing warm circles over your back. It's okay. It's okay. You'll be okay. Don't worry.

He really did smell good, you thought groggily. Cinnamon was comforting, and you started to sag in his arms. Poe carefully laid you on the lower bunk, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

"Which do you want?" He asked, pointing to the wall. Fighting to keep your eyes open, you blinked.

"Huh?"

"Which night light? I have a bantha and R2-D2."

At your blank stare, he blushed sheepishly. "I'm scared of the dark."

You snorted and pointed to the Bantha. Poe nodded, "a respectable choice," and placed the little light next to your pillow.

He sat at the foot of your bed, pulling out a tablet. You watched him, eyes growing heavy, as he pulled up a muted holovid, his hand stroking gently on your calf. Sleep came swiftly, and you drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

You woke at noon, shuffling under a thick warmth. A familiar warm smell curled around you like a blanket. Blinking blearily, a black mass of curly hair was crammed into your shoulder. Poe's head was three inches from your chin, and he was snoring like a bear. He was laying on top of the blanets, hand fisted over your chest. He reminded you of an infant, snuggled against any source of warmth.

Ignoring the ache in your chest, you petted his head and drifted back off.

join my taglist if you want, just comment or message me! it didn't mean to become so angsty lol idk what happened

xox bye bye

[casuallyanidiot]

Omg your yandere coworker *chef's kiss*

I imagine he's just frustrated and angry because he can't believe he's fallen for a loser like reader. Like they are such a mess all the time. So soft and easy to tire. They look so out of place in this workplace environment.

But over time it starts to click that all he was to do is take them away and keep them at home. Reader shouldn't even be at work! Reader should be sitting pretty at home like the good little spouse he knows they are all that they are good for!

Man he'll have to come up with a plan to make that happen wouldn't he?

Thanks! He's awful! :)

I think the worst part about Yan coworker is that he believes he's actually a good person. Maybe if he just acknowledged how scummy he was, he wouldn't be half as bad.

He he's had enough of you stumbling all over yourself like an idiot. Yandere Coworker pulls you aside one day into a storage closet. He's trying so hard not to snap and fuck you stupid against some half empty shelves, so instead he settles for gripping your arms. Isn't he a gentleman? Anyways, he lays it out for you.

"You need to quit," He says simply. His voice is gruff and firm, and you blink in surprise. "What?" You stammer out. He's tall, intimidatingly so, and you tremble as he holds you. "No, no I'm not- I can't quit! This is my job! I know you don't really like me, but that's out of line," You hiss out and squirm away from him.

Yandere coworker realizes you really are very, very dumb. There's nothing in that stupid little head of yours, is there? You can't even tell how much he's looking out for you. You're crumbling under the weight of this job, and he can't stand seeing you so unhappy.

But he makes enough money for the two of you. He can handle this while you can't. In fact, the more he thinks about it, he can't figure out just what in the world you would be good at. He tries to picture you as successful at anything and comes up blank. Huh... You really are good for nothing. Except,,, you would probably do well if you didn't have to do anything at all.

Yandere coworker starts to think about how much prettier you would be if you got proper sleep. He likes the way you look in corporate attire (That is on the rare occasions where you don't look like a hot mess), but he bets you'd like to be in expensive and revealing loungewear even more. The only thing you would have to do is keep your house tidy, and keep yourself nice and presentable for whoever provided for you. Yeah, you'd be perfect for that. And guess what? He could give you that.

Yandere coworker knows that you're far too stubborn for your own good. He begins to actively sabotage your work. He inserts spelling errors into your reports, changes the numbers of any potential client before you have the chance to make a sale. He allows himself to be more officially promoted, and with the new power he has, he assigns you increasingly difficult tasks.

You try and report him for essentially bullying you, but the complaint is thrown out with little care. He's one of the best employees the company had ever seen, and you were just some bumbling broad who couldn't even spell their own name right on official documents.

Before long, you're fired. Yandere Coworker uses his position in the company and many connections he has to essentially black list you.

You can't get a decent job in your field anymore. Plus you begin to get behind on rent and bills. Your life is going to shit, yet you still refuse to take him up on his many offers. It's infuriating, and he just wants to put you in a place that he knows you'll be safe and happy in.

Yandere Coworker just thinks your too dumb to realize how kind he's being. He hopes that you're smart enough to recognize how nice the trunk of a luxury car is. After all, you're going to be there for a while until he can get you to his home where you'll never have to use that useless brain of yours again.

[babygirlmurdock]

Confessions

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Foggy drops a very drunk Matt on your doorstep one night, which leads to confessions.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption

a/n: Got this idea from the writing prompt: “You're drunk." "Yes. And hopelessly in love with you." - from @creativepromptsforwriting and I love a little “i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this” (iykyk). Also I was listening to You Are In Love by Taylor Swift writing this, although it doesn’t have direct correlation, I just love that song LOL. Please enjoy<3

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*: ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔

You were sound asleep until you heard a loud ringtone erupt from your bedside table. There’s only one person whose calls surpass your do not disturb.

Matt.

You saw his contact photo and answered groggily, “hello?”

“Hey,” this was not Matt’s voice. “Matt’s, uh, really drunk right now. Someone had the great idea to do shots tonight…” Foggy was trying his best to sound normal over the phone, but he was clearly not sober.

You sat up, scrubbed your hand over your face and glanced over to your clock. 2:17 am. “Foggy, it’s 2 in the morning, I have work tomorrow, you can’t get Matt back to his apartment?” You complained to him. Matt was your closest friend. Grew up going to the same church in Hell’s Kitchen. He was kind of the loner kid, so one day you befriended him and you’ve been close ever since.

“He keeps saying he wants to see you! He kept babbling your name, so we’re about a block away from your apartment now. See you in a few!” Foggy cheerfully said not really giving you a choice.

“Foggy wai—aaand he hung up. Great,” you said to yourself before putting your phone back on your bedside table. You put on the closest sweatpants you found on your floor and one of your sweatshirts. After you found your slippers, you putzed downstairs to retrieve your inebriated friend. When you got outside, you heard the boys laughing from half way down the block. You sat on your stairs leading to your apartment while you waited for your two bumbling idiots.

Matt slurred your name as he approached and almost ate shit half jogging to you. “Jesus christ, Matt be careful it’s dark out here,” you scolded him.

“It’s all dark to me,” Matt laughed at you.

“Alright I walked into that, dick. Hey, thanks for bringing him at least… here. I’ll hydrate him and make sure he’s okay for work tomorrow,” you gave a ‘you owe me’ look over to Foggy as he said goodbye to you. You and Matt made your way up to your apartment.

You closed the door behind you after Matt stumbled in, took his glasses off and put them in his jacket pocket then put his cane on the wall. “Thank you for taking me in tonight, you’re a really good person,” Matt said, pulling you in for a hug.

“God, Murdock, you wreak of tequila,” you pulled away from his strong hug. “I’m gonna bitch Foggy out tomorrow for getting you this drunk on a work night. Why don’t you try to take a shower, I still have an old boyfriend’s sweats in my drawer. They should fit you,” you heard Matt huff as you went to your bedroom to grab the sweats and one of his shirts you stole from him and never gave back.

You knocked on the bathroom door and shouted that you left the shirt and sweats outside the door when he’s done. You went to the kitchen to grab aspirin and make him a Liquid IV mocktail. You really didn’t care if he was going hate the taste of it, it’s nearly 2:30 AM and you want him to go to sleep on your couch quickly. You heard the shower shut off and the door open and close again assuming Matt grabbed the clothing you provided him.

“Your body wash smells girly,” Matt commented as he made his way over to the couch to sit next to you.

“It’s almost like I am a girl… here drink this, take these. You know how I get with people puking and I don’t need any of that tomorrow morning and I know how pissy you get when you have a headache,” you handed Matt the glass and put the pills in his hand.

Matt put the pills in his mouth and swallowed them with the electrolyte mixture you gave him only to have him twist his face in disgust. “What is this? This isn’t water!” Matt protested holding the glass out to you signaling he didn’t want anymore.

“It’s liquid IV, it’s electrolytes. Supposed to hydrate you faster, a coworker suggested them for me when I had the stomach bug. Drink it,” You sternly said. You swore taking care of drunk Matt was like taking care of a stubborn toddler that didn’t want to eat their vegetables. He rolled his eyes and took another gulp out of the glass.

“You know, you should come out with the firm. Instead of being a stick in the mud,” Matt suggested, leaning into you. You huffed out in annoyance.

“Sorry I like my 8 hours of sleep and I’m not my own boss, sue me!” You threw your hands up in protest, “which my sleep is being rudely interrupted by the way.”

Matt leaned in a little closer to you, “your voice goes higher when you get mad at me.” You felt his body get close to you in a way that didn’t feel platonic. “And you breathe faster.”

“Most people breathe faster when they’re inconvenienced, Matt,” you tried to steady your breathing, trying not to sound flustered.

You and Matt knew each other on such a deep level that no one else got you like him and vise versa. Matt trusted you with his secrets and you trust him with yours. You were his first friend in the church. Learning about his dad’s death, being the first one to know he got into his top law school and staying up with him to help him study for the Bar Exam. You’ve been through everything together.

You’d be moronic to think that Matt wasn’t attractive. This man pulls any woman that he wants and you have to be the one to hear about the women he brings home. Whether that be positive or negative. You never thought about your friendship with him other than strictly platonic. Other than that one time you were dared to kiss him when you were 9 on the playground but you both always said that never counted as a real kiss because it was just a peck anyway. But to you, it was your first kiss. You loved telling the other girls at school that you kissed sweet Matt Murdock under the slide at recess.

Seeing Matt date these other girls but never give you the chance seemed like you two were just platonic. Nothing more. Plus you’re not his type, you’ve seen the women he has dated. Supermodel type. Not you. So you buried that feeling deep, deep down and hoped one day it would never be dug up again.

“You know I can hear your heart,” Matt said your name in a husky tone. “And it’s beating awfully loud…” Matt’s face was dangerously close to yours. Mere inches away from one another.

“You know— you know I don’t like when you listen to my heartbeat without my consent, Matthew.”

“And I like it when you call me Matthew. I like the sound of your voice. Have I ever told you that?” Matt’s eyebrows rose up as he drunkingly smirked at you.

“Matt, you’re drunk. I’m going to bed,” you stood up from the couch to make your way to your room.

“I’m in love with you.”

Those words made you stop dead in your tracks. “You—huh?” You whipped around looking at him in disbelief.

“I am. In love with you,” Matt looked up upon you. “Have been for the past few years now. I just never knew how to tell you. And—and I went out with Foggy tonight and ended up drinking way more than I remember. He was the first one to know. He finally pushed me tonight to say something to you. That’s why I’m here. I didn’t want to tell you. I never wanted to ruin our friendship. You’re so special to me, I—I didn’t want to fuck this up.” Matt’s voice slowly started to gain sobriety the more he spoke.

“Matty– I…” you trailed off. Matt Murdock is in love with you. You never thought you’d hear the words you buried come from his mouth.

Before you could finish, Matt cut you off, “I understand if you don’t feel the same. But you have to tell me now so I can get over it. Get over you.”

“No I.. I just—I need to process this information. When did you start feeling this way?” You sat down in the arm chair across from your couch.

“Maybe a few years ago. I always thought you were one of the best people I know. But those platonic thoughts… eventually turned… romantic. Specifically when you came to me with nowhere to go when your ex boyfriend kicked you out after he found out that you were still friends with me and Foggy. God, I hated hearing about him. You deserved better. I learned that night, holding you, while you cried, that I loved you more than a friend. But then came more flings, then I realized you probably didn’t feel the same way. So those feelings were shoved down. Until now,” Matt’s head hung low, looking like he regretted everything that was spewed out of his mouth. Word vomit is better than actual vomit. Although, you felt like you were actually going to vomit.

You stared at him, your heart felt like it was going to come up out of your throat. You knew you felt the same way. But god forbid you dated, and broke up, you didn’t want to lose him. You cherished him so much. The dead air hung there waiting to be brought back to life.

“Please say something,” Matt begged you.

“Matt, I’ve felt this way about you for years. But being me, I never wanted to say anything because I feared losing you,” your voice cracked as your continued, “I feared dating you and potentially breaking up and never having you in my life again.”

You knew Matt could hear your heartbeat out your chest. Your mind was going a million miles a minute processing this. The wave of relief hit Matt like a tsunami. He looked up with his eyes glossy with tears. You got up, made your way to the couch and sat down next to him.

“I don’t want to jump into a relationship with you right away though. I want to be really cautious. I want to kiss you in the worst way but—“

“So do it,” Matt interrupted you.

“If you’d let me finish—“

“I will be doing plenty of that,” Matt smirked at you.

“Shut up and listen to me! I want to kiss you, but I want to take this really slow, Matty. My last long term relationship, as you know, tore me apart. And I’m still healing from that. Doesn’t mean I’m not over him, because I am. But I’m so scared of being kicked out of the blue,” you said looking into his eyes. Your heart was steady and loud. Which meant you were being really serious. You didn’t want to dive in head first and say to the world you were boyfriend & girlfriend.

“Okay. We can do that. Whatever it takes to do this right, sweetie. That being said, can I take you on a date? There’s a wine bar that just opened we can go to. I know how much you love your wine,” Matt teased you about your love for wine.

“Yes you can take me on a date, Matty. I’d love to. Saturday?” You smiled at him. Your first date with Matt Murdock. You’ve only dreamed about him taking you out on a date. “I feel like a teenager right now. My first date with you!” You said all giddy.

Matt laughed at you, “Saturday. It’s a date. it’s cute when you get all flustered. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that over the last few years.”

“What the fuck? I thought I was hiding that so well!” You exclaimed.

“You have to remember,” Matt leaned, inches away from your face, “I can hear everything.”

“Fuck, you’re making it so hard not to kiss you. Not until after the first date though,” you tapped his nose with your finger teasingly.

“Already breaking my heart,” Matt pouted and put his hand over his heart dramatically. You laughed at him. Everything started to look like it was in technicolor. It started making sense. All those years ago, Matt touching your arm lingering his fingers. Him always complimenting you in such poetic ways. None of it was accidental. He wanted you in the same ways all along. You were too oblivious to notice his actions. You couldn’t wait until Saturday to have your first date with Matthew Murdock.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*: ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ

tags: @yarrystyleeza

I feel like this fic can potentially have a set up for a part to for our reader and Matt on their first date? 👀

All credit to the original gif owner!

[akoyaxs]

Hi! Could you do a Ao’nung x Sully Reader where Ao’nung gets heat stroke or something and kind of brushes it off and is stubborn about it (cause he doesn’t really seem like the kind to ask for help-) but Reader takes care of him anyways. Thank you!!

✮ Pairing: Aonung x fem!metkayina!tsakarem reader (betrothed but not in love YET)

✮ Tags: oneshot, injury, FLUFF

✮ Word Count: 1.8k

Sweet Anon, I hope you enjoy this story 💗

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

You knew something was wrong when Aonung didn’t have that stupid cocky grin always plastered to his face, no taunting gleam in those bright eyes, no entitled comments rolling from his mouth like it was his birthright (which in some ways it was, but you’d never admit that).

He had stumbled into the healing marui you occupied when helping Ronal out as Tsakarem, completely oblivious to you seated on the floor, crushing some herbs in the cool shade from the entrance. You frowned first, fully intending on asking him what he was doing bothering you right now when he knows full well his mother isn’t in here, before it occurs to you that he mustn’t know you’re in here either.

Usually, he spots you with that piercing gaze reserved only for you, just so he can come over to make some snarky comment or boast about his latest accomplishment you hardly pay attention to. Which makes it extremely odd he hadn’t noticed you in your pretty obvious spot on the floor, staring at him with confused annoyance as he rifles carelessly through the boxes and storage of herbs you had just organised.

“Can I help you,” you ask with a sigh. You were well used to Aonung’s entitled take on life, but this was a whole new level of brazen cockiness to storm into your healing marui and make a complete mess.

But to your surprise, Aonung flinches back, apparently actually not having realised you were right in front of him, face twisted in a slight grimace, which he tries to hide with a scowl.

“Yes, actually,” he grunts, teeth grinding slightly as he straightens up. You notice the muscles in his neck tighten as he winces again. “Where is all your stupid healing shit?”

“In this marui..?” you point out, getting increasingly confused, and now slightly unnerved. “You need to be more specific. What do you need help w-”

“I don’t need help,” Aonung says tensely through gritted teeth, and your frown deepens. “Just- where is all your stuff?”

He gives an irritated flick of his hand as he turns towards you, accidentally knocking over a box of herbs you collected this morning, all of them spilling and mingling out of their neat selections onto the woven floor.

This is how it usually was with Aonung. Since the two of you became betrothed, you had tried to make reason with him, but by this point you had resigned yourself to the fact that your future mate was a complete and utter skxawng. Trying your best to fight down the pained, annoyed shout you were longing to berate him with, you take a deep breath and lightly tug at his arm.

“Sit, Aonung,” you sigh, leading him to the floor. When he impatiently tries to tug himself free, you tighten your grip and give him a stern look.

“Do you know who I-”

“Yes I am very aware who you are Aonung,” you roll your eyes, pushing down on his head to try and get him to sit, to no avail given his ridiculous size. “But this is my marui where I heal, so no matter who your parents are or if you’re going to lead in the future, I won’t be tolerating bumbling skxawngs with anger issues breaking my stuff.”

Aonung huffs in disbelief and you’re sure he’s about to make some comment that one day you’ll share as mates, blah blah blah, but finally to your surprise, he obliges and sits cross-legged on your woven mat for your patients, and you sigh with relief.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” you say, patting his head like a good little boy and kneeling in front of him. “Now what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” he grumbles, not meeting your gaze and scowling.

“Right,” you raise your brows. “So I guess I’ll just let you sulk on my floor then.”

“Perfect, I don’t need you bothering your pretty little he- HEY!”

You suck in a sharp gasp, ignoring Aonung’s indignance that you distracted him to try and discern the issue, and his ears flatten back against his head. Half of his side, stretching painfully from his waist and up along his ribcage is scraped with the unmistakable barb of the outer-reef coral, and there’s a deep bite mark in the flesh of his left arm. Instantly, your gaze flicks up to Aonung, to find him already watching your face closely.

“You went hunting outside the reef alone? Again?”

“Eywa,” Aonung says sullenly. “I’m not a little boy, I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly not,” you whisper, eyes raking once more over the scrapes. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“I didn’t know you were in here,” Aonung hisses, teeth gritted once more. “If I knew you’d be here and bothering me, I never would have come. I can just as easily leave-”

“No!” you say quickly, grabbing his arm to keep him still. “I’m sorry. Just let me help you.”

Aonung blinks, the words he’d been about to utter dying on his tongue at your offer, before his gaze flicks down to his arm held in your gentle, smaller hands. Instantly, for fear of being yelled at for touching the precious prince, your fingers loosen, and your hand drops away, face flushing.

“I just mean,” you correct, clearing your throat and cursing the blush on your cheeks, “that it wouldn’t be right of me to let you leave like this, particularly with you being… who you are. Just… please stay still Aonung.”

To your surprise, he blinks back, still looking a little disorientated which you quickly write off as a side effect of his injury. With a small sigh of relief and a shy, encouraging smile, you stand up and gather some herbs and ointments, mashing them in a large round shell before kneeling back in front of him.

“This may sting a little,” you say gently, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder to get a good look at his injuries. All he returns is a curt nod, muscles tense under your fingers as your face peers around his body.

It’s a tedious process, wiping and dabbing the scrapes with a cool damp cloth, tentatively smearing the paste over them before blowing lightly on it. Despite all your determined efforts to be overwhelmingly gentle – you are weary of the fit he might throw if you accidentally hurt him – Aonung doesn’t complain or wince or hardly even bat an eye, and you’re ever grateful for it.

However, it is a tense ordeal. Every light brush of your fingers against his warm muscled body makes his jaw clench. Every infinitesimal flex of your hand on his shoulder as you lean and shift to treat him makes the muscles in his neck strain somewhat, as though he’s fighting the urge to break away from you. Every cool breath of yours fanning across his skin has his eyes narrowing and widening in a laboured almost-panic.

You’re almost scared to speak (though you don’t know what you would say), terrified to break this strained, stretched silence, but also very aware of every movement, noise, and flinch in said quiet. You settle on finally speaking; at least that way you aren’t flinching every time you accidentally brush against him.

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly. “Is this not-”

“It’s fine,” Aonung says tersely, cutting you off with blunt coldness, and you feel yourself wincing inwardly at how stupid you sound right now.

“Right,” you mutter under your breath, aspirating the t and rolling your eyes. You duck your head back down and continue in your work, praying to Eywa he doesn’t notice the flush of your cheeks as you heal him.

Finally, his side is finished, and you take his arm in your hands to study it. It must be an akula bite, given the sheer terrifying size of it, and as you slowly dab the injury, Aonung finally cracks, letting a tiny wince and an almost silent hiss escape from his stony façade.

“Sorry,” you mumble, but Aonung just shakes his head, grits his teeth, and you continue.

It’s obvious this wound is deep, excruciating even, but Aonung stares straight ahead throughout your dabbing and smearing and blowing until you can finally wrap a bandage around it and clear your stuff away. You pour him a cup of soothing tea as he waits somewhat patiently for you to address him, maybe even dismiss him. His newfound obedience is strange, and you find yourself smiling at the sight of him sitting cross-legged and grouchy like a little boy who scraped his knee.

“You should stop hunting alone outside the reef,” you say quietly, back turned to him as you rinse out the paste and blood sodden cloth. “I don’t want you getting hurt again.”

Aonung is silent for a moment and you highly suspect he’s rolling his eyes or maybe even preparing himself for yet another entitled monologue on his great status and disregard for authority and yada yada yada, but strangely, you feel him shift behind you with an amused, “Yes ma’am.”

“I’m serious,” you huff, chucking the towel down and turning to glare at him. The amused look on his face slides off at the evident concern on your face, and you sigh. “You have to stop getting injured, Aonung.”

He blinks in surprise, before reaching out to tug you closer. He’s strong enough – even with his injury – to pull you alone, but you find yourself obliging and coming to sit beside him.

“Well, I’m lucky to have you to fix me up,” he comments, smirking slightly and tucking your hair back.

“Not if you keep acting like an absolute skxawng every time I try and help you,” you counter, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you still, letting Aonung’s hand tucking away your hair fall gently to stroke your cheek fondly.

“I’m sorry syulang,” he whispers, a small furrow forming between his brows. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I wasn’t,” you lie. “You were bothering me.”

Aonung laughs lightly, but as his face trails nearer to yours, you still don’t pull away.

“Is that so?” he asks, face inches from yours. You don’t answer. It’s only when his lips are practically breaths away from brushing against your own when you pull back and frown at him.

“Heal first skxawng,” you grin at his offended, shocked expression. “Then we’ll see what happens.”

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

༊ Taglist:

@hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re@yootvi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @vminlvxr @elegantfankidsoul

😘

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Just to kiss me (part 1)

Finnick Odair x reader

(AO3 mirror)

Part 2, The Hunger Games masterlist

summary: You meet Finnick at a gala. He’s not what you expect.

warnings: none. Capitol!reader (this is not mindless hedonism, important to the plot), smoking (don't smoke kids, it's bad for you), reader is a year younger than Finnick, who is 21 here. 

a/n: wanted to see how many times I could break u guys into little tiny pieces. Part 1 to this series <3

required reading:

Wc: 2.3k

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

Depollute me, pretty baby,

Suck the rot right out of my bloodstream,

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

Under the chandeliers of the Great Hall, Finnick Odair is the sun.

Glittering as he waltzes between crowds of people; he is the centre of all attention. The flash of a smile there, a soft chuckle here, and it's enough to have the room hanging onto every word. He is honeysuckle and saccharine; stunning in his gilded suit; and it is all you can do to not stare.

You linger by the desserts table, in search of something edible. Piles of sickly sweet, oddly coloured food and yet none look like they wouldn't stab your throat on the way in. An ironic statement considering the company. Panem's most beautiful and wealthy all in one room; daggers behind their backs and expensive smiles. But you knew how it looked: the child of a senator refusing to make nice with the locals at her first gala. Half a dozen political players, actors, and the like had clawed over themselves to make a good impression with your mother - her vice-like grip around your arm. And every single one disappointed by the bumbling proctor she had thrown in her stead. You, dressed in a beautiful gown -  the latest in Cinna's collection - mimicking human interaction. None had the decency to even pretend to be interested. 

Growing tired of awkward, stumbling conversation, you had resorted to hiding; in the corner of the hall, with the half-eaten cakes, where the workers came to gossip. Conversation with twice as much substance than the rest of the room. That's when you see him. 

Finnick arrives late - of course he does - at  a lull in the night. From your vantage point, you see it all: elbows and whispers and manicured fingers dissecting his every move. When he shakes hands with a famous actress, the room erupts with: 'I wonder if they're dating? He's much too good for her…'. When he claps a hand on the back of a senator, good naturedly, they wonder: 'His ex? Have they made peace since the nasty breakup?'. 

He was an enigma, and to say you weren't intrigued was wrong. You were not strong enough to resist the media frenzy surrounding Finnick Odair, Victor of the 65th annual games: handsome with his cropped sandy hair, high cheekbones and boyish vigor, despite it all. 7 years ago, he had captured the nation with his beauty, and grace. 7 years ago, you had watched not much younger than him, queasy at the sight. Your disdain for the games had started with him, you had to admit begrudgingly: how could someone so beautiful be forced into doing such ugly things? At fourteen? And how could the nation watch in awe? 

You are brought back into the room by a sharp elbow at the ribs. A friend of yours; expectantly folds her arms in front of you. 

"You're staring." she says, with a toothy grin. "You said you were immune, and now you're staring…"

You roll your eyes at Vonnie, quick to stuff a prickly treat into your mouth. Quickly, you flash pink tongue at her. "He's so shiny it's practically blinding. Hard to ignore."

She tries not to laugh, reserved when a group of socialites walk past. As soon as they leave, she splutters, "They seem to be ignoring you quite easily…"

Yeah, no shit. The older girl taps her fingers on the table, nervously, like she had something to say. She's dressed in an explosion of fabric: pink and purple and patterned, with a dusting of gold. Her hair is similarly styled, haphazard but regal. On you, you know it would look a mess; but on her, she looks like the models on the cover of Panem Weekly - leggy and striking and beautiful. You sigh into more desserts. They melt almost immediately; a trace of sugar and daydreams on your tongue. 

"....do you think your mother would introduce us?" 

Your eyes grow wide. "No… no…Vonnie, I will not make a fool of myself in front of Finnick Odair-" 

"...but she would introduce us? Right? Right?" 

Opening your mouth in protest, she's too quick for you; hooking her arm into yours and leading (dragging) you into the crowd. She flashes her stunning smile every now and then, throwing polite greetings like grenades with complete accuracy. You're at your mother's feet in no time at all. 

A tight smile that doesn't reach her eyes. That's all she affords you before throwing you to the wolves. "-ah. Just the person I was looking for. Tell Minister Tragus about that outreach program you've been working on…" 

An expectant beat passes, and then another. And another. Vonnie cuts in. "W-well we've been swamped in paperwork as of late trying to get it off the ground! But, Senator, your daughter has been absolutely amazing, never a day off, and poring over the legislature for a gap in the system. She reminds me of you, in that way," she looks at you warmly, and you squeeze her arm with thanks. "-oh, my name is Vonnie Dulaire, Professor-"

"Professor Dulaire's daughter. Or at least, one of them." your mother finishes dryly. She looks around seemingly preoccupied, looking for someone. Not 50m from where you all stand, she catches the eye of a man, who waves. "If you'll excuse me," She bows out, with a nod. 

Hot on her heels, You and Vonnie follow. She stops momentarily, squinting accusingly at you. "You want something."

You stop to protest, but Vonnie interrupts. "Not want per se, but, uh, we were w-wondering if you had met Finnick… Mr Odair! And if you could… introduce us?" A quick nod behind her, and you try to back her up. 

Her face is contorted, with a slight twitch at her eyebrow that tells you she's pissed, and you would get an earful when you got home. That smile again. The one she reserves for the cameras, that doesn't quite meet her eyes. She's tight-lipped and leads you towards the man that waved to her not long ago. 

He's plump and jovial, with a handlebar mustache that curls up to the apples of his cheeks. Introducing himself as Finnick's manager, he stretches out a hand. You take it, and it's clammy with sweat. Vonnie is more outwardly enthusiastic, chattering about Finnick's most recent interview, and complimenting his style. She's good at making people feel at ease; conversation flowing like Panem’s finest ambrosia. 

Your mother is curt when she steps away. She grabs your arm, squeezing cruelly. Imperceptibly, she breathes, "This is your chance to make a good impression. How many times must I tell you, this is a part of the job: you go the events, you suck up, you make appearances. Vonnie, the ditz, for God's sake is showing you up!" She pauses to take a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. From behind her flute, she continues.

"Everything I have done is for you. So you are not chained to a life with a husband you don't love and dithering children pawing at your skirt 24/7. Politics or no, you must play the game, my love-"

"I need some air." Your voice crackles. You don't look her in the eye as you walk away.

~~~

Away from the swirling lights, music and bustle, the night air is cool on your skin. You're on a balcony, tucked away from the gala, leaning over the edge with a small packed pipe in hand. It's the one thing about the ballgown you were grateful for; it's size made it easy to hide things in the tulle or the waistband. In your case, a beat up old pipe and lighter. You take a drag; and float on the moonlight that streams in. 

20 minutes go by and you're still not ready to go back in. 

The double doors open, to a man dressed in gold with his head in his hands. He slumps over the crowned railing and breathes in and out; erratic and shallow. Gentle sobs, barely audible. From this angle, he can't see you in the shadow by the balcony's side, but you can see him. Finnick Odair; in the gloom of the night. Not a god, not the sun. Just a man. 

The realisation of who he is makes you jump, and your lighter falls with a clatter. The man looks around just as startled. You fall to your knees, patting around for your lighter in the dark. Finnick does the same, crouching at your feet to help you find it. Ah! There, by your pooling dress, a gaudy thing of gold and pearl. He hands it you, your fingers brush and… you're embarrassed. When he stands up, he motions for you to grab his arm; ever the gentleman. 

Finnick gives you that smile; stunning and mischievous; but there's something about it that makes your heart sink. You'd know it from anywhere: the stony sheen of rehearsal, of strain - his body language completely different from a few seconds before. He stands straighter, with purpose, but it rings hollow. His eyes are still stinging from crying. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. 

Wordlessly, you offer him a pull from your pipe. He cracks slightly, smile falling, and nods. He's shaking, you notice, as he brings his plump lips to the tip of the pipe, and takes a slow drag. Almost immediately, he doubles over coughing, a palm steady on the railing. 

"D-don't… cough… laugh...coughcough…!".

"Is this your first time?" You can't help but giggle. 

"No…. Y-yes." He's laughing too now. A genuine, belly-filled laugh. 

"Look at what I do." You model a proper pull, breathing in with your chest, holding the smoke there and expelling. You tap at your breastbone. "You should feel it here. Now you try."

You hand it over, and he tries again. This time he only splutters. Not perfect, but better than last time. "You'll get the hang of it."  

In the silence that follows, he does, taking careful drags as you pass the pipe around. It's nice to have some quiet after the overstimulation of the gala. You feel like a teenager again; sneaking out to smoke with Vonnie, but with less of the mindless chatter. When you finish, you expect him to leave. After all, it's what you'd do. Leave and refuse to acknowledge the 5 minutes of peace on the balcony. To draw a line between himself and the random girl he's met by chance. 

But he doesn't. For some reason, he lingers, stealing a glance at you momentarily. Finally, he chews his lip and asks. 

"Why are you out here?" 

"Didn't realise you had a claim to this balcony. Have you marked your territory here or…?" You respond without missing a beat, purposefully staring down at the garden below. 

"You know that's not what I meant. I haven't seen you before, and here you are-" He chuckles. "-on my balcony."

"How do you know?" You meet his eyes; firm, resolute. 

"Hmm?" 

"How do you know you haven't met me before? Maybe I bumped into you on the ballroom floor, or at the buffet?" 

"I remember everyone at these things. It's always the same. Trust me, if we'd met, I would remember you."

"There's always a million people here…"

"And I remember them all." He breathes, a little wistfully. You didn't realise someone so young could even be wistful. 

"That must suck. Every nosy reporter and suck-up? Every politician and creepy little shit-stirrer?" Oh. She's funny, he thinks. And not funny in the tight-lipped, fill-the-silence-with-small-talk way. Unabashedly, genuinely, funny. 

"Yes. Every creepy little shit-stirrer." He repeats. Your words taste different in his tongue. Good different. "Thought I'd already met all the spoilt little rich girls, though." 

You feign shock, and clutch the necklace at your chest. "You wound me, you really do."

Conversation is effortless with him, lazy in the haze of moonlight that wraps around you both. Shamefully, you didn't think he would be all that smart; too beautiful to have a use for sharp wit and humor. Perhaps the talk shows and television were rotting your brain; he was wonderfully perceptive and you almost struggled to keep up with his pace. Almost. 

And so you talked. About anything and everything. What he had for breakfast, the newest music, the weather, the hidden intricacies of capitol life. All the while, tiptoeing around the reality of the situation: that he was the Finnick Odair, perhaps the most sought after man in all of Panem. That he came here to cry on a balcony - clearly, running away from something. To be fair to the man, you wouldn't think it; he was humble and gracious, laughing with a serf like you easily. Fleetingly, you forget yourself, only reminded when the willowy light cut his face just so; handsome, beautiful; and you were blinded by the sun. 

You talk until your throat aches and your legs are sore. Behind you, the gala winds down. Again, Finnick seems reluctant to leave, to break the spell you are both under. A normal conversation. A weight off his shoulders; if only for a moment. A natural lull in conversation, and you're skittish, suddenly aware of the time.

"I should go." You say softly. 

"I should too, suppose." He looks a little sad, resigned to a small smile. 

"Good luck." You nod and walk towards the door. He stops you, clasping a hand in yours. You're looking at each other, and all you can feel is his palm in yours. It's a little rougher than expected, and warm, dwarfing yours. The feeling tethers you to him. 

"Good luck." He nods, squeezing your hand. He is doe-eyed and gorgeous in the widowed light. Stepping closer, he opens the door. Finnick Odair lets go and clicks down the hallway, leaving you with a pain in your chest and that feeling on your palm. He flexes his hand as he walks away. 

He doesn't look back.

_

_

_

[blackcrystalball]

This is such a fucking shit show omg.

Watching Fabian interact with a girl he actually has a crush on has been one of my favourite things ever. I have literally never seen, or honestly imagined, his character like this. Bumbling and stumbling over himself as he tries to impress her. Wild.

[thvkei]

hi (●’◡’●)ﾉ

I wanted to ask if you could do a headcanon for mitsuya and chifuyu with a reader like ochako from mha?

(*ˊᗜˋ*)ᵗᑋᵃᐢᵏ ᵞᵒᵘ

MY GIRL LIKE URAVITY !

ft. mitsuya and chifuyu x fem!reader

genre. fluff, headcanons

notes. this ask is so cute :,DD thank u for requesting cutie <3 i defo got carried away w/ this LMAO + this post is sfw, but this account contains nsfw content. please do not follow if you're a minor.

✰ MITSUYA.

you and mitsuya are often depicted by others as two sweethearts who are head over heels for each other. everyone knew he would go to the ends of the earth for you, as you would him. your love is warm, soft and, fuzzy. a bubbling fire in an arctic storm. unquestioned and unrivaled.

when you first met, mitsuya was immediately drawn to your kind, gentle, and empathetic nature. in need of money, you decided to sign yourself up for a tutoring job for a little girl. a little girl that happened to be his sister.

he would've taught her himself, aware that she was a little behind in school because of how determined she was to help him take care of their mother, but for the reasons aforementioned, he was unable to.

and that's where you came into his life.

an awkward, bumbling mess who first stumbled onto his doorway, flushed and greeting him with the sweetest smile he'd ever seen.

he ushered you inside with warmth stinging his cheeks, offering to make you a drink, which you sweetly accepted.

and dare he say, the moment you kneeled down before his sister with your soft, honey-like voice, offering a hand for her to shake, he fell in love.

for the next couple of weeks, he would try and make conversation with you. he loved how flustered you would get, even by just the sound of his voice, and the way you'd stare at him with big, oogling eyes.

'adorable' he would mentally note.

it wasn't until one night when you came over and mitsuya's friends were over that you learned more about his personal life besides the information you got from his sisters, discovering quickly that he was a delinquent that indulged in a well-known gang in the local area.

caught off guard, you stood and stared, stumbling over your words.

and you were even more so when they greeted you by name, casually dropping the embarrassing truth that mitsuya had been going on about you for months.

he, of course, scolded them as you stood in the doorway, only stopping when he heard your lighthearted giggles.

"it's okay, takashi," you smiled brightly, "all good things, i hope?"

"y-yeah... of course," he replied, trying to suppress the bashful smile that threatened to consume him.

after the session with his sister, his friends offered that you stay and hang out, an offer which you hesitantly accepted.

the leader of toman, mikey, loved teasing you. he loved how sheepish you would get, hiding your face from him when he pressed you about your feelings for mitsuya. at which point draken would promptly drag him into a playful headlock, telling him to knock it off.

you swear in all of those moments, had it not been exceptionally weird and inappropriate, you could've kissed him.

only problem being you wouldn't of either way, considering you harbored great feelings for his 'twin dragon'.

oh shit.

now you yourself acknowledged your feelings. you knew they were there, that they existed. that flip your tummy did every time he gave you a pat on the head happened far too often to be a coincidence. when he'd call your name and take you by surprise. when you'd catch him staring, leaning against the doorway with a smirk. it was all coming to you now. you knew.

for so long, you tried to repress your feelings, too scared of rejection even under the guidance of mitsuya's friends, who always gave you a knowing smirk every time he walked into a room. who, every time he mentioned you, sent you a text telling you what he'd said.

sick of watching the pair of you mindlessly pine over one another, mikey comes up with the idea of setting you up.

you were practically forced on a date with the silver-haired boy, and was shaking like a leaf as you approached the spot where you agreed to meet.

your phone shook between the clammy skin of your hands, eyes shooting open when it pings and reads 'suya ♥: look ahead :)'

you'd always admired how calm he was, how much control he had over himself in stressful situations. especially right now.

while your trembling and trying to keep your breathing under control, mitsuya is cracking jokes and offering you gentle touches. you honestly don't know how he does it.

soon after however, you settled. it took a few pulse checks and hesitating glances, but after a while, you managed to get your nerves under control. it's only mitsuya, you told yourself.

and after that, talking to him became easier. you learned a lot about him, his life, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, as he did you.

don't get me wrong, you still choked on your words when he complimented you, when you caught him staring adoringly as you rambled. but now you were at least able to hold a conversation with him, which was a win in your books.

mitsuya believed wholeheartedly that you were the most perfect, angelic person in the world. he wanted to protect you, keep you safe. something shifted inside of him as he watched your eyes light up when describing your favorite food, offering to one day share it with him before slapping your hand over your mouth with mortified regret. moments after, he laughed- and so did you.

by the end of the night, he drove you back home on his bike, which you'd never ridden before. mitsuya felt a fond shudder embed itself in his spine when you pressed your face into the crook of his neck, holding onto his waist like his life depended on it.

he didn't leave, even after he'd walked you to your door. just stared. wordlessly.

hours, days, months of tension that had been building shattered suddenly when he smashed his lips against your own, your back falling against your front door as he cupped your warming cheeks, leaning into you.

it took your moments to process, but when you did, you immediately kissed him back, feeling your heart practically burst within your chest as you find your hands gripping onto his jacket, desperately pulling him closer, lips moving languidly against his own.

you could barely bring yourself to let go.

mitsuya took it upon himself to finally separate the two of you, arm above your head, pinning you to the door as you both panted. at first he apologized for the rashness of his actions, but you didn't care - you silenced him immediately by kissing him once again.

where this sudden burst of confidence came from, you weren't sure; you didn't care. you were enamored by him.

you wanted to kiss him forever.

you found yourself immediately accepting when he breathily proposed you be his, hiding your face in his chest and unable to breathe from the pure elation that swirled within your chest.

from that day on, you were inseparable.

toman recognized you as not just 'mitsuya's girl', but y/n. his pride and joy. the person he swore to protect under every circumstance.

no one dared lay a finger on you. not like they would any case - toman adored you. even though at first, they were worried your presence would be somewhat of a hinderance, it actually turned out that your vibrant, bubbly personality lifted their moods even in the darkest of times. even when war was approaching, and likewise when it was not.

you made mitsuya so happy. every time he saw you, a wave of peace would hit him, and all else would be rendered irrelevant.

previously, there were times when he found it hard to hold himself up as well as his team. there were times before he met you where he almost subdued to the pressure of being second division captain, barely keeping himself afloat in a sea of strain. but after you, he no longer needed to put that stress on himself. he knew he could confide in you, as you could him.

✰ CHIFUYU.

this baby has been in love with you since day one.

you first met back in kindergarten, when you were defending chifuyu from a middle-school bully.

after getting both of your asses beat, you tried to help him up from the floor. his face stung 'n he was a lil butthurt about being protected by a girl, so it took him a few minutes before finally taking your hand.

even despite his coldness, you still smiled at him. brightly. kindly.

he couldn't help but turn a little red.

as the days went by, he began to accept you more and more. bitter objection turned into timid endorsement.

throughout kindergarten, you stayed by his side, and he reluctantly gave you the title of his best friend.

you had fun together, spending most days hanging out, constantly at each other's sides.

but like they say - all good things must come to an end.

when you entered middle-school, chifuyu seemed to have a made a few new friends. bad ones. he's become infatuated with the idea of being a delinquent, more so than he had been with you.

it saddened you deeply to see him choose such a scary and dangerous path for himself. when you approached him, he acted like he had no clue who you were. his friends teased him, catching wind of the situation.

frustrated with himself and his choices, chifuyu watched as you ran away from him, bleary-eyed and choking on your own tears.

during the day, you avoided him relentlessly. and during the night, you mourned him. it was an endless cycle of pain.

until it wasn't - it hurt, but you, with time, managed to move on. you found more friends and became more popular, which was quite easy, thanks to your sweet, likable personality.

alternatively, chifuyu never forgot about you. he saw you everyday, laughing and joking with your friends, living life easily without him. it hurt, even more because he couldn't blame you. it was all his fault.

but everything changed the day you were reunited by no other than baji keisuke, chifuyu's best friend and decided leader.

baji caught chifuyu staring at you for the fourth time that day, and finally decided to inquire as to who you were to him.

chifuyu reluctantly admitted to his childhood wronging, how you had once been closer, before he spoiled it all.

baji gruffly remarked that he was an asshole for what he did, and that he should apologize.

and that's exactly what he did.

you froze on the spot, your friends surrounding you with wide and judgmental eyes, people shoving past you in the hallway, as chifuyu, the boy you hadn't spoken to in longer than you could recall, bowed remorsefully in front of you at a perfect 90º angle.

after a long silence, you friends laughed and pointed at the boy, ridiculing him for his peculiar actions. you responded by hushing them, requesting that they leave the two of you alone.

chifuyu prepared himself for the screaming-at of his life, for you to yell at him for daring to apologize to you after so long of shutting you out.

but instead, he jolted at the feeling of a hand on the back of his head.

his heart jumped at the sound of your laughter, "raise your head, silly!"

chifuyu stood with a gaping mouth as you accepted his apology, telling him that, after all this time, you forgave him.

of course. of course you’d forgive him. he was an idiot for even doubting you in that sense. back then, you were the most selfless, vibrant, tolerant, nicest, funniest, prettiest, most adorable-

he stops himself from thinking any further, sound resuming around him.

when he blinks back into reality, you're staring fearfully past his shoulder at the ravenette behind him, baji keisuke, who's making a joke about chifuyu's questionable staring habit.

over the following weeks, you and chifuyu grew closer once again. he told you all about his life in toman, and even though at first, you were a little worried about him, he assured you that he loves it there, and that he only beats up the assholes who deserve it.

you notice the change in him. that edge in his voice that had been present throughout his childhood, that resentful sharpness of his tone, had been completely eradicated. the chifuyu you were talking to now was sweeter, warmer and... prettier.

you swear his eyes have gained an extra sparkle.

as time goes by, you meet more of his friends: draken, mikey, mitsuya, takemichi. thankfully, they're all very fond of you. after all, it's not hard to be. you've never had much trouble making friends, even with delinquents.

chifuyu's cat - peke j - adores you. usually he's a little cold to strangers, as cats are, but the first time he saw you, he jumped straight into your arms. chifuyu watched with swollen pupils as you cooed at the furry animal, tickling his ears and chin. peke j curls his body against you, letting out a low purr.

when chifuyu realizes he has feelings for you, he freaks out. he hasn't had a crush in years, and if it was, it was a fictional girl from a romance manga. he has little to no experience.

of course, baji notices his strange behavior and confronts him. chifuyu has no choice but to admit his feelings, as well as the fact that he has not a single fucking clue as to how he should act.

chifuyu doubts himself. he doubts you like him back, or that you'd ever think about him that way. but he still likes you, and there's nothing he can do about it.

meanwhile, every time you see the blonde, your heart races. your stomach flips. your fingertips shake. he's every trait you've ever admired. the only thing stopping you from asking him out is your immense fear of rejection, and ruining the friendship you'd finally resurrected after so long.

you were both terrified.

but then one night, baji gets sick of watching you two quietly yearn for the other in silence, and advises chifuyu to 'use something from those romance manga he likes, or something.'

lightbulb moment.

chifuyu springs into action, thinking up an elaborate plan as to how to confess to you.

baji cringes at every single one, but endures it for the sake of his dignity. knowing you, you'll like whatever he comes out with anyway.

and so you do.

chifuyu's plan goes to absolute shit, and ends with you staring at him confusedly, curious as to what he was trying to say.

panicking that he'd offended you, chifuyu ended up blurting it out instead.

"i like you, y/n!" his mouth hangs open after the confession, not quite believing it had just left his lips. "i-i'm sorry, i don't know what i was-"

he's interrupted by you wrapping your arms around his neck, concealing the heat of your face in his neck.

"chifuyu," you laugh, and he tenses fearfully, "i like you too!"

so adorable.

at first, chifuyu doesn't know what to do with himself. you're his girlfriend, and he's your boyfriend. and, surprise surprise, he's never been one of those before.

he's so devoted to you, but also wants to prove his strength, which sometimes leaves him looking like a bit of an idiot. but you appreciate his efforts, and find him sweet.

chifuyu thinks you're the sweetest person ever. he loves watching you ramble about the things your passionate about, showing you his favorite romance manga, letting you play with his hair.

he likes making you work out with him - well, if you can call it that. he loves when you sit on his back whilst he does pushups, showing off whilst simultaneously spending time with you. a win-win, in his book.

he loves showing you off, too. you're his. he's yours - entirely. even if it's a hand around your waist, or a glare in an oogling guy's direction. he isn't afraid to let others know that you aren't to be toyed with.

please do not repost or steal my work ─ i don't allow translations or resposts on any other platforms.

[thedreadvampy]

btw on the tangent of end of history ass bullshit I put my finger recently on why adapting Good Omens as a modern-day story bugs me

bc I Have Known. bc I was a comedy-fantasy afficianado in the 90s/early 2000s. that GO is one of many examples of a very specific genre of British comedy-scifi-fantasy popular in the 90s I would term "millennial apocalypse farce".

you know, they're a mix of biblical eschatology, Fortean Times conspiracy theory, cult tropes, and Y2K Rise of the Machines stuff, smashed together into an Adamsian comedy where a group of hapless protagonists bumble around while the world falls apart in comically overblown ways. imo, though a lot of authors bring their own spin to it, they're all heavily stylistically influenced specifically by Dirk Gently, which isn't Millennial Apocalypse Farce but I think did inspire a lot of it. Robert Rankin is on the edge of it, Good Omens is the most lasting example, but I read like 20 of these and most authors only wrote one afaict.

but the thing I was saying the other day is I honestly cannot think of a genre of popular English-language fiction that's more rooted in a specific time and culture. I tried for a while and really couldn't.

It just doesn't translate well away from the turn of the millennium, purely because the millennium was such a fevered touchpoint for Apocalypse Stuff. two things there I think.

Obviously, Y2K looming. Millennium Approaches. The turn of every century has often been accompanied by an uptick in interest in apocalypses and end times, but this was the BIGGIE. It's only happened on this calendar once before. People in the 1900s were talking about how close they were to a new millennium. The approaching millennium dominated the whole 20th century, and especially with how apocalyptic a lot of the 20th century felt in terms of war and technology, apocalyptic fervour really kicked up in the 90s. And there was a smorgasbord of apocalypses to choose from; divine, nuclear, digital, cosmic, alien, all stuff which on the millennial scale had really only just shown up in the last century or so. I was 7 in 2000 so pinch of salt but I remember all of us sort of holding our breath leading up to Jan 1 2000, not just bc of Y2K but bc it felt like something momentous HAD to happen.

The end of history. The cold war had subsided, and so had the economic depression of the 70s and 80s UK. There just was not a Singular Apocalypse hanging over a group of people who'd spent their whole lives in the shadow of a Singular Nuclear Apocalypse. I think stuff really rushed in to fill that gap, and Millennial Apocalypse Farce is a response to that sudden glut of possible apocalypses all clamouring for attention.

I think as well American end-of-days right-wing evangelism was really loud in the 80s-90s and that plays a part, cause the generally lefty and consciously self-effacing British comedy author milieu found that off-putting in a very mockable way

but the point is that glut of apocalypses was a real flash in the pan, the same way the End of History was. it was a like 10-15 year timespan where the world was definitely ending but nobody could say why or how, and it began around the fall of the Berlin Wall and ended on September 11, 2001.

Millennial Apocalypse Farce novels did keep coming out after 2001 but like everything else, the culture has changed really radically, and also, like, we were past the millennium. Those infinite possibilities of apocalypses hadn't paid off. Not saying that the public interest in apocalypse went away - 2012, obviously. The LHC. But the full on fervour for any and all crank apocalypses kind of petered off a bit bc the turn of the millennium was so much a flashpoint for it. and anyway we had really concrete apocalypses again - terrorism, totalitarian governments, plague, and of course the main 21st century apocalypse, Oh Shit We Really Fucked This Climate Change Thing Up.

and I really love the Millennial Apocalypse Farce genre. I really love stumbling on books in that genre. because it's such a time capsule for an incredibly specific period in recent cultural history.

but it does not translate into a 2020s setting. It's so 90s. it's so rooted in a really specific landscape of cultural anxieties and abstractions. it just doesn't make sense to me to translate it to the modern day, it's like setting Angels in America in 2023. it's just the wrong type of apocalypse. apocalypses are culturally generated and they change fast based on how a culture sees itself and the world. you can't pick up a 1990 apocalypse and put it unchanged in 2023, it's Wrong. if you're going to do that you have to be in conversation with it, you can't just update it.

like ok example of thoughtfully recontextualising an anachronistic apocalypse for a modern setting. War of the Worlds 2005. Why is it War of the Worlds? Because it wants to say some things about the relationship between post 9/11 America and colonial England, and how the specific common anxiety of invasion affects them as people in a nation of invaders. Idk if it's a good film cause I didn't like it when I watched it but that was a long time ago. But the intent makes sense.

what does putting a Millennial Apocalypse Farce in the 2020s actually. say? about the commonalities between now and then? I mean. Based on the TV show of Good Omens, to me, not a lot. It's pretty beat for beat in that sense, and we're not really far enough away from 1990 for it to have the obvious impacts that saying "now is very like then" does with, say, War of the Worlds, because the world of HG Wells was distant enough for a 2005 audience to go 'oh, Victorian colonialism, that's Not Like Us.' whereas like. I remember the 90s. It's not recent but it's in continuity with now. saying "then it's like now" is a) kind of Incorrect imo, the cultural anxieties are Very Different, and b) not...striking?

idk like. The genre is dated. The nature of that specific apocalypse idea is incredibly dated. And that's good actually. It's fine for art to be a time capsule of a specific cultural moment and to not make sense divorced from that moment. That's good! That's a good use of art!

[oxpogues4lifexo]

P4L - Draft

Not proofread or edited

3k+ words

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and violence.

JJ's Pov:

My heads foggy, eyesight blurred, not able to make any sane thoughts. I need to find her. I need to find Bells.

I can't keep myself up on my feet, stumbling through the crowds of people, as I look for a small brunette, wearing a miniskirt that rides up her thighs and a top, too tight even for her. She never dresses like that, but Sarah insisted she dress up to go to the boneyard. It's the only party she's been to all year; 'she has to make an effort'.

It made it hard to find her, the drinks in my system toying with my memory, forgetting what her face looks like.

I catch a glimpse of Sarah, followed by a familiar laugh. I follow the sounds, not caring if I bump into the people in my way.

Having to check on her is my priority. I didn't want her to come. But ever since her and Sarah have become friends again apparently my opinions don't matter. To Sarah anyways.

"Bells!" I swing over to her, tugging at her arm as she turns to me, "Hey gorgeous," I grin, poking my finger on her nose causing a small smile to pull at her cheeks.

She giggles, "Your drunk.." She whispers against my lips, her arm wrapping around my waist to hold me upright as she moves the sticky hair off my forehead, not caring about getting my sweat on her skin.

"I don't drink, ma’.." I shake my head at her; my eyebrows jerking at my words.

Another laugh slips from her mouth, "No I don't drink Jayj. C'mon let's get you home," She lifts her head up to look at Sarah. "Could you drive us to TannyHill please? His dad will kill him if he comes home like this, and my dad won't let him round mine."

It's not that Bella's dad doesn't like me, it's that he doesn't like my father. Her dad has a lot of issues: doesn't let Bells talk to anyone, go out anywhere. He even took her out of school because he didn't trust her being there. He's paranoid. So like everyone else, he associates me with my father. It doesn't matter how much Bell' tries to convince him, there'll always be some doubt surrounding me. She's all he's got left, so Bella tells me to just let him be protective, but when it starts getting in the way of our friendship then it just pisses me off.

Sarah's face brightens, bobbing her head towards Bella as her eyes scan around at the crowd.

Despite what I say about Sarah, she cares. And I can't argue with that.

"You okay?" Bella questions as a frown takes Sarah's face.

My legs give out, falling slightly but I managed to catch myself; Bella's arm instinctively reaching to mine, without paying any attention to me, pulling me back into her grip. Her eyes focused on the concern on Sarah's face.

"Looking for Rafe."

I groan and Bella doesn't even try to hide the unamused expression that took her face.

Not too long ago Rafe beat the shit out of me for befriending Sarah and Bella hasn't let it go. She swore to her dad when she was young to never hurt anyone. So it's not like we expect her to do anything about Rafe, but it's kind of adorable that she still holds a grudge against him for me.

I get antsy; bored. My body aching to move, so I pull away, swaying my hips to the distant music playing. I throw my hands up and Bella and Sarah notice me, faces reddening as people begin to stare.

"JJ stop!" Sarah demands but I ignore her, not understanding why she cares what I'm doing.

Bella reaches for me, grabbing onto my cheeks, her face leaning up against mine, "Stop.. please.. you look like an idiot J."

I obey, my body coming to a halt, watching her brown doe eyes follow mine. A smile pinches my lips, teeth creeping out with a laugh, "I embarrassin' you, bumble bee?"

She lets go, huffing as she straightens her back, eyebrows dipping. She slips her hand into mine and glances back at Sarah, "Rafe won't snitch Sar, they'll know he was here too if he says anything, can we please just get JJ to bed." She lifts her hand out to Sarah's, still gripping onto mine so I wouldn't move, and Sarah reaches for it.

'The mum of the Pogues' That's what we call Bells.

She does anything and everything for everyone. Always looking out for us and being there when we need it. We all appreciate it more than she knows but it never stops her from caring. I could probably take a guess and say she'd even care about Rafe if something happened to him. That's just who she is.

It's come from her dad. Despite everything they've been through together, the only way to describe it all is hell, they always wore a smile and made sure no one went through what they did, or sometimes still do.

They have three unspoken promises they stick by (I only know them because I helped make them):

-Number one, to never hurt anybody unless their life is at risk.

-Number two, to always be there for others no matter what.

-And the most important one, number three, don't live in the past.

Bells has me. That's it. Since we were two years old, I've been the only friend she's had. She understands what I've been through and vice versa so I don't leave. I wouldn't anyways, but it gives me more reason not to. We're both more of a family to each other than our own, we would never pick anyone over the other. It's just like our little unspoken rule. And everyone knows it.

We reach the car and Bella sits beside me in the back, holding me close to her chest, hand in hand, as Sarah speeds home.

Bells tugs on my hand that was firmly gripped to her thigh. I blink my eyes open as I lift my head off of her chest to face her, a small groan falling from my lips.

A soft smile takes her face as her manicured fingers make their way into my hair, moving it off my forehead once again, "Sorry to wake you.." She giggles lightly, whispering to keep me from waking back up fully, "We need to get you upstairs." I gaze at her eyes, not hearing a word she's saying, fully mesmerised by the calming tone in her voice. The sound glazing my ears like honey, I fall in love with her everyday..

She's my booty call. My number one. My shoulder to lean on. Always. Anywhere, Anytime.

I love everything about her, everything: Her eyes, her voice, her personality.. her body..

My thoughts get cut short by the sound of a car door; Sarah steps out from behind me to help Bella get me inside. My arms hooked around both their shoulders as I get lugged up the stairs of the TannyHill estate. Guided to Sarah's room, all I could think was that I wanted Bells' lips on my own. Those soft, plump, strawberry-scented lips that I'd ache for quite regularly - on mine.

No! No.. Don't ruin it JJ.. Don't.. Don't even let it cross your mind. Your drunk. Yes drunk, that's it! That's what it is - playing with your mind. Ignore it!

They lay me down, Bells' fingers lingering across my shoes before gently pulling them off and placing them on the floor next to the door; tucking me under a blanket that sat across the foot of Sarah's bed.

Sarah makes her way around the room, turning off the lights and closing the blinds. "If you need anything Jayj give us a shout. Bell', see you downstairs?"

I lay still, my body finally hit it's breaking point, every part of me numb to the touch. The only sound I could make was a short 'Hmm'. Bella's head nods to Sarah with a small smile before the door shuts and she makes her way towards the head of the bed. My eyes follow hers as her body sinks into mine, a warm kiss placed to my temple; her arms take my body closer, "I'll be downstairs if you need anything okay..?"

She lifts her head to sit in front of mine, noses touching as she crouches beside me, fingers playing in my hair, "I told you not to drink so much Jayj, what happened..?"

You..

No words left my mouth, my eyes still fixated on hers, the only thing that seems to keep me sane anymore. She lets out a quiet chuckle before placing another kiss to my forehead, "It's not happening again.."

I watch her lead herself to the door, turn back to blow me a kiss followed by my favourite little grin, before exiting.

My body relaxes, a sigh of relief escapes my lips as I catch my breath. Holding back from attending to the bulge in my boxers as my eyes fall shut..

Just forget tonight happened..

Bella's Pov:

"Is he okay?" Sarah looks over the back of the couch as I make my way over, the TV quietly playing 'Friends' behind her - our favourite childhood show we always seem to pick when together.

I nod my head, jumping over the armrest to place myself beside her, "As far as I know." I let out a small laugh, a smile given to me in response.

Sarah and JJ's friendship has always been a mystery to me. They seem so close yet so different; they always argue yet still get along. The way I see it.. siblings split at birth. Doesn't make sense but neither does a lot of things - like their friendship.

I know the reason is me: friends to both, always fighting for my company, competition for what feels like 24/7. But there's nothing I can do, in-fact they both know i'd choose JJ over anyone so I don't get his jealousy.

All I do know is that when it comes down to it, they do care.

Our attention turns back to the TV for at least another hour before the front door creaks open. The slow squeak of the hinges catches us both off guard and we cling onto one another, our eyes fixed on the doorway into the front hall. Both thinking the same thing.. Intruder.

We let the TV play to not alert anyone that there's people present; the footsteps on the wooden tiles still louder than the obnoxious laughs behind us. My heart begins to race faster, my grip on Sarah's hands only tightening painfully, as small grunts emit from the dark hallway that lie ahead of us.

Sarah slowly reaches to the coffee table to claw around for her phone, not taking her eyes away. I take a glance back at her as I watch her shaky fingers struggle to type out a full sentence; I look at the name above the messages - Dad.

Thank God..

"Hey!!"

Sarah and I freeze, our body's strike a halt as our eyes take one another's - wide as if we were some deer caught in headlights.

"Hey dumbass you deaf? Why'd you leave the party so early, if dad caught you we'd both be dead. You realise that?"

I feel Sarah's breath escape her lips relievingly, as she lets go of me and flashes her phone torch up past my head. I turn back with my eyebrows furrowed, confused to the sudden change in body language. Not recognising the voice but easily able to piece it together.

I catch a glimpse of the face structure: A sweaty mess, sticky bangs, blue eyes glistening from what I could only assume was some sort of substance as it complimented the redness on his lids.

Rafe..

His eyes take mine only for an instant, the way he looked at me was as if he'd never seen me before. Or at least he was going to act like he hadn't.

"Fuck Rafe! Could've given us a heart attack! And dad's out of town 'dumbass'." She mocks, somehow unafraid of how he'd react, the drinks in his system almost peeling away the 'mask' everyone knows him for.

I watch his eyes widen in shock, eyebrows dipping as her words sink in, "Out of town.." He repeats to himself, nodding slightly, the frustration growing obvious along his face, "He's out of town. An- and, no one told me this because?" His voice deepened, as he got louder, condescending even. It causes my skin to crawl at the fear of him lashing out. People getting angry hasn't ever been an easy deal for me.

"They did, Rafe.. many times. Just go clean yourself up your disgusting!"

He scoffs, eyes squinting in response, them taking mine again but this time it went on longer than I hoped. No words left his mouth yet it sat, lips parted.

"Rafe! Go away. We trying to watch something here!" Sarah shoo's him with her hand, waving for him to go upstairs.

I frown as his eyes began to glass over, not moving away from my own; I notice the pure pain behind them that led my own heart to ache for him. Someone who has always had a confident, unbothered look to them as if nothing could hurt them, suddenly starts letting go infront of me - of course I was going to show some concern. "Are you okay..?" I mouth to him, my head nodding towards him comfortingly, but he just blinks my question away before going upstairs, not wanting to make a scene like he would've if I wasn't there.

"God sorry about him. He's a wasted asshole, I'm sure you know that." She chuckles at the sound of her own words, causing me to only sink into the couch more, knowing even she didn't notice what I did.

How could you say that about your own brother? Your own brother who stood there and did nothing but ask a simple question?

Wait why do I care, he almost killed JJ.

Shit..

"Bell?" Sarah leans closer, her face inches from mine to grab my attention. My head jolts as I clock her eyes on my own.

"Sorry." I giggle and a smile pushes her cheeks apart as my voice calms her concern.

"Are you okay? What just happened?" Her eyebrows jerk as her eyes adjust, pulling a leg up infront of her to show she's willing to listen. Just the small action caused a smile on my face, the little moments like this remind me why I'm still with her.

"Oh no no nothing," I give her a smile of reassurance as I place my hand to hers that rested on her calf, "Just remembering what JJ looked like after he was done with him." A small chuckle takes my tongue as I try to cover the pure lie that just left my mouth.

"Oh.." She chuckles along, "Yeah that was the start of a war for sure!" I laugh along to her words, enjoying the small fraction of peace while it lasts.

"I'm just glad my dad stepped in when he did! God if one of them really did fall unconscious I would've finished the job."

"Wow Bells where's this coming from? Got some pent up anger somewhere in there?" She giggles causing myself to join in.

"You could say that. I practically live with JJ, there's definitely something there."

"Mm.. I can't argue with that." She turns herself to rest against my arm; I place it around her shoulder as her legs lift to the armrest. I pull a blanket onto my lap as we fall asleep, the laughs from the TV filling the silence throughout the night.

Me and Sarah became friends through our dads. They were childhood bestfriends. Did everything together. Dad, Ward, Luke, Mike and Bobby were all friends from a young age so growing up they were always at our house - gambling, drinking, watching football. This happened near on everyday despite me not being friends with any of their kids other than JJ but that was a given.

However because Dad and Ward were extremely close it just meant, me, Sarah and Rafe also had to do everything together. From about the age of 6 we'd spend every other day together with JJ coming and going for about 3 or 4 years. Rafe hated it, wanted to go out with his friends especially since he was much older than us. So he pretends it never happened which I understand to an extent.

I have nothing against Rafe, infact I don't mind him, it's just the fact that he almost killed JJ. But even then, JJ almost killed Rafe back. It was a draw; they called a truce. I never understood the big conflict between us Pogues and the Kooks, my mum and dad made it work, but it always led to unnecessary hate between us and the Cameron's which I never quite agreed with. I grew up with them, but now we hate them? It doesn’t make sense to me.

It wasn't until Sarah met Kiara in High School that we started to drift and it began to add up. She completely pushed me away. Dad and Ward didn't let it affect them but Sarah and Rafe stopped visiting. What pissed me off the most was that when she ended things with Kie, she came running back to me. Dad made me go along with it before him and Ward fell out last year - that's when shit began to hit the fan. He cut Sarah and any other person even remotely related to the Cameron's off from me and we hadn't spoken since, until two weeks ago.

JJ's my everything, and my dad knows that. Despite growing a disliking to his dad over the years after learning what he'd been doing, he let me and JJ still see each other because of the whole Sarah thing - not wanting me to be completely alone. I know he really does love JJ because he's been there for me since birth but it doesn't mean he gives him an easy ride. 'You can stay over whenever you want, but don't pull any shit with my daughter'.

JJ was the one to get Dad to let me speak to Sarah again, especially since she started speaking to our group so it would be unfair if I got pushed out because of it.

So yeah, there's a lot of shit to my story and this is just the beginning. But only time will tell how much worse it can get..

Masterlist

Yes I used the same name in all my fics, it’s easier and yes I have like 5 different story ideas I never get any finished

Thank you for reading hope you enjoyed I’m really happy with this one 🌹❤️ x

[seasideoranges]

Your honest thoughts on Zutara for the ship asks?

OH!!

well before I begin here's a really cool relaxing video I very much enjoy

anyways

i apologize in advance if my thoughts on the ship seem very much all over the place lol.

on one hand, i understand the appeal! i have some friends/moots that share beautiful zutara fanart/fics that i very much enjoy! it's a ship that i very much understand it's significance and impact it's had on not just this fandom, but throughout other online spaces and just shipping as a whole.

on the other hand, while i understand the appeal, it kind of shocks me how ride and die people are with the ship, specifically with how massive the ship war is, and the nasty behavior that comes with it.

it's important to note that when the show first began airing, i was only 3, and i was around 7 or 8 when the show ended. i didnt really get into it because of how young i was, besides watching snippets of s2 and 3 on nick and random amvs i stumbled upon as a kid haha.

i had my first real watch of the show about 2 years ago, and while i wasn't extremely knowledgeable on the fandom, i did hear about the infamous shipping wars in the fandom, like whispers in the wind, and how zutara should've been endgame. going in with this knowledge, let me tell you how shocked i was with the lack of canon material in the show regarding zutara. like, i had people tell me there was a legitimate love triangle happening! people still believe that!

dont take this the wrong way! im not saying you have to have a ship be canon, or for it to have a ton of canon material in order to ship it, i love rarepairs and crackships, shipping is suppose to be fun! i know zk gets hate because it isnt a canon ship and i think that's very, very silly. this is more so a response to the "zk shouldve been end game it was robbed from us etc etc", because i'm sorry, but i didn't see this at all while watching the show. it was very clear to me what was suppose to be endgame.

i do understand that it was a different culture back when the show was airing, in the sense that there was tons of marketing material teasing zutara, thus people were upset with the writers when it didn't happen, but it makes me wonder if this is truly the fault of the atla crew, or the fault of the marketing department, and nickelodeon seeing how popular shipping was and asking it's marketing department to hone in on this to draw in numbers. most of the time the people behind a show don't get a say in how the marketing works y'know? ANYWAYS! Back to the actual ship! I don't like when people water down katara and zukos characters for the ship. I don't like the treatment aang receives from more hardcore fans, painting him to be some awful, no good, horrible partner of katara and friend of zuko. zuko and katara are ride and die for aang, if there was an aang fanclub, they're the ones who started it and they're fighting every week over who gets to be president lmao. i really dont like when this treatment gets extended to sokka and toph, treating them like bumbling idiots that katara is stuck with until zuko comes in to save the day because he's 'oh so mature, much more mature then those other 3 fools, and the only one who gets katara' which just. isn't true.

I like when people don't water their characters down and really focus on how chaotic they'd be, or the fact that they're still just teenagers! I like when people don't throw away Aang, and even in a zk universe aang is still close friends with them and their number one supporter. i like when they don't throw away kataras relationship with sokka or toph, and they're still just as important in her life.

final thoughts

it's fine! im not crazy over it but i understand the appeal. shoutout to my zutara moots, love the stuff you create, don't ever stop! besides sharing some zk art, you probably wont see zutara art coming from me, im much more focused on pushing my 'platonic shit talking wine drinking zuko and katara besties' agenda bahaha.

[thornofthelily]

Hi hello !!! I'm here for the prompts thing !! May I suggest: Lasko and Cowoker in a little library date ?? 👁👁

omg that sounds lovely!!! Sorry, the library ended up being not as big a player as I wanted, but I hope you enjoy!

Lasko is nervous. Of course he's nervous. Lasko being nervous is as immutable a fact as water being wet. Or wait, was water actually wet? 'Wetness' is a quality bestowed on other objects by their saturation with water, but can that property be fairly applied to the water itself? Is water, an entity made only of wetness, therefore actually "wet"? Oh, god, now he's overthinking it and he can already feel himself spiraling and he hasn't even left his office yet.

When he tells his date about this, in his usual stumbling, awkward manner, they'll listen patiently like they always do, smile growing wider and fonder in that way that always makes his heart twist with affection, which only makes him more bumbling and talkative until they eventually calm his nerves and reassure him with a jubilant serenity that yes, water is wet, and they would know because they're an expert in water and in wetness, in a voice that makes him blush.

It's not even a formal date, so he doesn't know why he's so nervous. In between their teaching schedule and Lasko juggling duty as a teacher-turned-admin-but-still-sometimes-teacher, they haven't had much time to go out for a real date. Besides, after the disaster that was the pizza date, he had nowhere to go but up. They manage to find a matching gap in their schedules just long enough to visit the DAMN library for a bit of coffee and a chat. Lasko cups both hands around his drink (cappuccino with sugar and caramel) as they sit across from him at one of the many study tables, nursing their chai latte.

"The - the coffee here is quite nice," he says, then mentally kicks himself over such a lame opener.

"Mmm-hmm," they hum in the affirmative. "For just a small coffee stand operated by a single employee in a school library, especially. She does good work."

Lasko drums on the sturdy paper cup with all ten fingers, already out of conversation topics. Fuck. "I, uh, I haven't been in here since I was c-cramming for my Full Certification."

An eyebrow quirks in surprise. "Really? You don't use the library much?"

"N-no, not r-really. I mean, I mainly used the co-copier when I started teaching full-time, but I only did that for-" Wait, no, shit, backtrack, backtrack, don't talk about how you got your new job, don't talk about the promotion, don't talk about the Inversion, that's literally the best way to make this the worst date you've ever had, shit, fuck, shut up shut up shut up - "I-I-I-I mean I u-u-used to use the - the library for... research and - and stuff but I-I mainly teach pretty... pretty simple classes like, well, y'know, DAMN 101 and Introductory Elemental Control and, well, I don't really need research on Air control because, you know, Air Elemental, but s-sometimes need a refresher for Earth Elemental command, or maybe Fire, you know, that kind of thing, and I've never been that good at the Energetics but those are really rare anyway -"

And there it is, that smile, warm and glowing and just a little amused, but not a hint of teasing as he frantically backpedals and works himself into a horrible fluster, but they sit, calm and beautiful and accepting of all his frenetic nonsense, and he crashes his runaway verbal train. "I'm sorr - I mean, shit, I'm, I didn't mean... oh my god, I don't know how you put up with me when I get like this, you're just sitting there so patiently while I'm just tripping all over myself like an idiot -"

They silenced him with a warm palm smoothing over the back of his hand. "Lasko. Hey. Look at me." He met their eyes, cool and clear and calm like a deep pond in a quiet forest. "It's not about putting up with anything. I like you. This - the way you talk, even the parts of you that you seem embarrassed by, your nerves, your feelings, your thoughts - I like all of it. I don't want you to worry about that with me. I love this energy, I love your passion."

Lasko releases the pent-up nerves with a long, slow, controlled exhale. "I... I know. I don't... I don't understand it," he adds with a chuckle, "But... you've made that clear. Thank you."

They grin. "What are you thanking me for, my affection?"

Lasko laughs. "I... I guess? It felt better than saying sorry."

"It is better than apologizing for nothing. You need to be gentler to yourself." Lasko swallows hard, then shifts his hand in theirs, and links their fingers together. Squeezes once. Then panics, yanks his hand back, and starts all over again - "Oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't ask, and we're in public and there's students here, I forgot, oh my god they can see us what am I doing -"

They would try to calm him down again, bring him back to center, but they couldn't stop laughing. He's so cute.

[jovialtorchlight]

Ballad of Johnny Kidd

My name is Johnny Kidd. I’m a bad, bad man. I’m cold, on the verge of death, stumbling through a fierce winter storm somewhere just North of Bangor, Maine, a bullet lodged in my thigh. I was following an old logging road out of the deep woods. I got lost, trailing spurts of blood like a breadcrumb trail. I see it; a tiny flicker of light through the lashing white snow. The cabin. I pound on the door. 

“Mister! Please, it’s so cold out here! Please, let me in! I’ll…I’ll freeze to death!”

An old man unlatches the door; I practically fall into the cabin, legs giving out, trembling. He’s walking towards the fire, doesn’t offer to help me up. Doesn’t even look at me. I think shit, I’m bleeding all over his floor, but the bleeding has stopped. 

“Strip to your birthday suit, right there in the mudroom. Hang it up. It’ll dry.  Don’t be bashful, kid. I won’t peek. Got a pair of long johns hanging on the coat rack. Once you put them on, grab the folded blanket, wrap yourself in it tight,” he says. 

I follow his directions. 

“You’re a real kind person, mister. Thank you,” I said, ambling towards a chair by the fire. 

“Kindness has nothing to do with it. Just don’t want to see anyone else freeze to death on this mountain path. Hard times claim enough good folk around these parts. Don’t need to lose anyone else,” he said, staring into the crackling flames. 

            Goodness has nothing to do with it, I think. I’m naked under the blanket, ‘cept for a sawnoff shotgun strapped to my back. 

“I really owe you my life, sir. I can already feel my bones warming. Blood thawing out.” 

“Any frostbite?” the old man asks. I looked down. I was already toasty. Fingers and toes looked fine. 

“I don’t think so, sir.”

“Good, good. Sit. Warm yourself by the fire. Don’t have a bed in this shack, but you can sleep in the chair. Hopefully the storm will be finished by morning.”

I linger, not sitting. I’m scoping out the cabin, ready to pull the loaded gun from my back and spatter this oltimer’s brains on the wall. He doesn’t have much. It’s a bare wood cabin with cedar planks and a woodstove with rusted pots and castiron pants.

“I do appreciate it, sir. Truly. It’s a whitewash out there. Any longer, the snow would have swallowed me completely. My company wouldn’t have found me until the spring thaw.”

The old man doesn’t break eyecontact with the fire. He chuckles. 

“Company. You mean your gang of bank robbers?”

My hand moves to the gun. I’m about ready to end this foolishness.

“Sir, what do you mean?  I work cutting trees.”

The old man’s voice drips with contempt. 

“No you don’t. You’re a much better shot than you are a liar. You’re Johnny Kidd.”

I drop the blanket, naked. I draw the gun from my back. The Old Man doesn’t flinch. 

“Damn. Nothin’ gets past you, old man. Move and this room gets a new coat of paint. Say, you haven’t even looked at me yet. Am I that famous? You can tell who I am just from my voice?”

“I know you, Kidd.” the old man says.

“I guess so. Have we met?”

“I’ve seen the newspaper clippings. A sheriff came by the cabin a few days ago, said your gang might be around. Wanted by the federal government, and every bumbling, whiskey drunk county sheriff this side of the Mason-Dixon line. Look. I know you got a shotgun pointed at my cranium, to your back, and I know you’ve been thinking about shooting me in the head since you first came into this cabin. But I ain’t no lawman, and I ain’t trying to collect the bounty on you…even if I could finally retire down to Rio with your blood money,” the old man says, a soliquiy into the fire.

My hand lingers over the trigger. But instead, I speak. 

“Huh. Well, you marked me pretty good, oldtimer. Most people start cowering, throwing their watches and jewlery at me  when they figure out who I am.”

For the first time, the old man turns to face me. He’s normal, saggy skin and a long gray beard.  

“Kidd, when you first came in here, you said I was a kind person. I ain’t kind.  I could plead, sure. I could beg, say I just saved your life. But that don’t matter. You’re not the type of person that responds well to kindness, are you?”

Ha. Kindness, I think.  Fuck kindness. 

“No, I reckon not. I ain’t apt to “kind” my way out of a shootout.  Kindness ain’t ever done nothing for me. Pops was kind before he was fileted in his sleep by a drunkard he let stay in the hayloft.”

“That’s why I’m here. You ain’t gonna respond to charity, kindness, or the yolk of human compassion, are you, kid?”

His tone drops into a command. 

“Look into the fire.”

I try to pull the trigger, but my finger locks. I start to move towards the fire, like I’m being pulled like a boxcar on a railine. I try to fight the movement, but I can’t. I bend down and gaze into the dancing flame. 

“What do you see?,” the old man asks. 

“Jesus, what kind of witchcraft is--”

“Answer me. What do you see?”

I saw her. The boys and I had the bank on Main Street locked down, about to grab the bags of cash, jump in and speed away to hit the next town. She came out of the washroom, unaware we had the place held down. I shot her through the neck. She choked on her blood. I meant to shoot the wall to scare the clerk into opening the vault…the bullet ricoheted..I didn’t mean to shoot her.

“I see her. Jesus, shot her through the neck. I swear to God, I didn’t mean to--”

“Course not. Is that what you tell yourself when you’re alone at night? Is her throat, ripped open, the image burned in your eyelids?” 

I collapse on the floor, holding my face in my hands. The old man stands up from his rocker for the first time. 

“I’m almost sorry for you, kid. There ain’t any other way to set you straight but raw power, right? A kind sheep is still a sheep, and you’re a wolf, right, kid? You’re a predator, ain’t you? You sink your fangs and take whatever you want from those poor fieldmice cowering in fear, right?”

“Shut up,” I sputter. I gather myself, uncrumple from the floor, stagger to my feet. 

“You’re talking real funny, sir, and I implore you to stop--”

The old man laughs, spittle flying. 

“You ain’t gonna implore me to do nothing, kid.  Like I said,  I ain’t kind. But I’m just.”

He sits down. 

I draw the gun, aim it at his temple. 

“Ha. Just. You mean, you’re an agent of justice? What are you gunna do, old man? Tie me up and take me down to the jail? Kill me? I got a gun pointed at you, but I got a sawblade in my satchel... I’m gunna have some real fun with you.”

Old man sinks back into his rocker. 

“I ain’t going to cower, kid. I’m gunna show you something. Sit. Down.”

Despite everything in my body, I sit. 

“Watch the fire.” 

Depsite every voice echoing in my mind, I gaze again into the fire. 

“A dozen lawmen are tracking you. Been following you since you killed her.  In fact, they’re closing in on your camp now. Budd’s just got pumped with lead. Big Frank’s brain is oozing out. They’re following the tracks. They’re gunna find you, kid. Rather, they’re gunna find your frozen body next to your dead horse.”

I feel the pain of freezing to death; like someone stuck my body into a pit of ice blue flame. 

“Oh my god.” All I can manage. A whimper. 

“God ain’t got nothing to do with it,”  the old man says. “Savor it. Not a lot of men get to see how they die, Johnny.  But it doesn’t have to happen like that. You got a way out, kid.”

I don’t belive him. Ain’t no way out, I’m an cornered cat and he’s a rabid dog.  

“Instead of killing me, get up, take my seat by the fire. You’ll be waiting for a while. For as long as I have. Till some other poor fool gets lost in the storm. You help them, you help them thaw out, you send them away. Keep waiting by the fire. Or, you kill me. Outside these walls, it’s just ice. Ice, snow, and death,” he says.  

“I’m dead either way, ain’t I? I’m dead right now, ain’t I?” The question flashes like an explosion. “Am I dead? Am I dead?”

The old man shakes his head.

“I can’t answer that for you. You got to make a choice, now. Before the fire dies. We’ve been in here for a good bit of time already.”

I look at him squarely. He’s not reacting. Just a dirty, saggy, weathered old face. My fists clench. I want to kill him. But I let the wave of hate roll over me, and I’m left with whatever is left in the wreckage. The old man gestures for me to pass. I sit in his rocker. I look at the flames, for a few moments, an hour, a day, a year. I don’t know. I don’t care to know. The old man is gone. 

It’s cold. Someone is pounding on the door. 

“It’s freezing out here,” someone calls from outside. “You gotta help me, Mister!”

I don’t look up. 

“Come in. Door’s unlocked. Mind you don’t track in too much snow.”