#i think it's just ... the way thing are right now it just feels particularly hopeless and bad and futile on a society level?

[posttexasstressdisorder]

Where we go from here...

It took me awhile last evening to get my mind in the right place to do the baking I had to do. I thought I would put on some music on my little radio station to kick my head into work mode. Tried some Glenn Gould playing Bach (always a go-to for morning coffee music), and it didn't hit right.

So I dialed up the huge mix I have titled "1969-72" and almost immediately started the long road back to feeling like myself. After about a half-hour, I was in the groove. Listened to the mix far into the night, after I'd finished working.

I managed to keep my focus and got the cookies all baked, and kiddo's mom happily packed them up and just left for her party, and I'm over here for the next couple of nights, sadly for my back. Two nights of "No Mattress For Old Men" and I'll need a week to recover, but hey...

Wanna thank all y'all for your comments and messages when I posted that I was prolly just gonna go black. Y'all loved me back off the ledge. Posted in a moment of true despair...something I haven't felt in awhile. I am hurting for all of us...and all of you. I have never in my long life been scared for the nation until now. Or at least that's what I thought. This feeling of complete despair, the emotional pain of millions of people, the hopelessness, the fear for the future...after I sat with it awhile I realized yes, that I have felt this same combination of toxic shit before.

In the 65 years I've been on this stinkin' rock, I've been through a number of particularly devastating previous elections, most notably the two Bush2(Dumbya) regimes. I remember the night of the 2004 election...Americans were posting tearful photos taken by their webcams, with them holding up signs saying "We're sorry."

I saw first-hand all the fights for rights that we have gained from the early '60s onward. To find ourselves set back to square one, 50-60 years later, when we had finally gained some footing toward fairness, is cruel. And cruelty is what they will wield as their main weapons in the coming days, as we suddenly find ourselves in the same predicament as 1963-65 when a virginal Joan Baez and little Bobby Dylan changed protest music forever.

So yes, I have felt this same way, and no, the nation didn't die or descend into complete chaos. Our lives went on, essentially as they had, with a growing pile of "things we can't do anymore" heaped atop via the collective wounding of 9/11.

This is another collective wounding--an intentional collective wounding. The next few months are going to be chaotic, they will try to push through their agenda as quickly as possible come january.

I may not post much overtly political stuff from this point on, but if I do it will be refocused on positive news. I don't know for certain how long that might last, but I can't take a 24/7 barrage of bad news and outrage bait. I'm probably gonna unfollow a few blogs, but don't think it's personal...it is Mental/Emotional Health Care.

And yes, I've been in the trenches with y'all a long time...we are all Family at this point...Brothers and Sisters in arms. I'm not leaving, but my presence/role will be different, out of the renewed sense of self-preservation this has thrust me into.

I woke up disoriented, but quickly remembered I'd gotten what I needed to get done done, and had a slow re-entry, sipping my coffee for a couple hours. I kept remembering how well the music had helped me last night, and then the beginnings of what this might turn into began to coalesce. Concepts of a plan. lulz.

As the day went on, I've been on a roller-coaster, emotionally, with seemingly hopeful leads on a roommate not materializing, on top of my craigslist ad for a roomie getting flagged and deleted. Pretty goddamn hopeless as far as this situation is going.

Looked at the huge box of cookies I'd managed to bake last night and it hit me. I've been reblogging the "Gooood Morning, TUMBLR!" graphics every morning up until the election. The image of Robin Williams being in character calling up the role of the military DJ.

Back when I did my cafe in the mountains of NM, a friend lent me a book called "Radio Venceramos", about South American rebels who had a radio transmitter and clamped the leads to the barbed-wire fences to broadcast their signal/programming to their fellow rebels.

Still not sure how the format will work out, but I've decided: my new role is going to primarily be the voice of inspiration over the air-waves to my fellow rebels. Not sure if it will be a second blog or if it will be a continuation of PTSD, but with no further ado, I will become the Voice of my fellow rebels with:

I may make a second blog out of it, but until then I guess I'll make it a series of posts. Tumblr will let you blog up to ten videos/post, and that may be how I start things out. Consider them like stacks of 45s and LP tracks from my paul-shaffer-brain...meant to help keep spirits up and keep the focus.

Made a couple of graphics, will probably try others in the course of it.

So the message today was "You did what you had to do. Heal up for what's ahead."

I will probably start this new focus in the morning...I'm still chewin'.

[xcziel]

i feel bad for not fully engaging with certain things i still love on here this past little while

and it's purely because i just don't have the mental or emotional capacity for angst right now

it's a weird feeling: i see a post go by that really would hit and has depth but it's like i can only paddle in the kiddie pool

[azrielbrainrot]

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: A seemingly innocent confession ends with you in Azriel's bed.

Warnings: Smut, fingering, some dirty talk

Word Count: 1,2k

Notes: I've been having a bit of writer's block and decided to just finish this little prompt I had in my notes since forever ago. Hope you enjoy!

It's hard to remember how you ended up here. It's hard to remember your own name to be honest. You think it would even be possible for you to forget how to breathe when Azriel's fingers have set such a mind numbing rhythm, stretching you out so deliciously.

One minute you were confessing to your friend about how no male had ever made you finish, and the next you were lying naked on his soft mattress, his hazel eyes half lidded with desire as he cooed down at the mess you were making and all the sinful noises you were letting out.

“Are you still with me, pretty?”

You let out a loud moan at the question, one he punctuated with a deeper, sharper thrust. Hands clutching onto his soft hair to pull him in closer, his lips meeting yours, allowing you to indulge yourself for a moment. You can't believe you've lived this long without the feeling of his lips on yours.

Azriel pulls away far too soon, your lips chasing his in a hopeless attempt of keeping him close, a whine escaping you when he moves completely out of your reach.

“I asked you a question,” he murmurs, voice heavy with desire as he watches the way your pussy swallows his fingers greedily.

It takes you a moment to remember that he even spoke up let alone what he asked you. “Yes. Gods, yes. Please don't stop,” you find yourself begging when you do.

Azriel lets out a satisfied hum, leaning down to leave little bites and wet kisses all over your chest, almost purring when your fingers tangle in his hair, fingers alternating between massaging his scalp and pulling hard when the pleasure he's bringing you gets too much.

It doesn't take long for you to get impatient, drunk on the sensations he's bringing you, but still greedily needing more, your hips chasing his fingers, silently begging him to go faster, harder.

“Az,” you whimper when it's clear he won't listen unless you ask him to. “I need more.”

He abandons your chest with one last bite, looking up at your heavy lidded eyes, a smirk growing on his face.

“You think you're ready to cum?”

“Please.”

It's amazing how fast he reduced you to begging. You can't believe this whole thing started because you thought there was something wrong with you, or that you just couldn't cum with a partner when Azriel had reduced you to a pool of pleasure in a couple thrusts of his fingers. He hadn't even fully undressed you, simply pulling your dress up to your hips and then down your chest to keep his mouth busy. You can only imagine what else he could do if you gave him the chance.

“You don't have to beg. I told you I'd take care of you,” he says, looking down to your dripping pussy as he speeds up his thrusts, curling his fingers just right.

You were so, so close. It felt like you were staring down at the top of a precipice, only needing the slightest nudge to jump down into oblivion.

“You've been doing so good for me. Making such a pretty mess of my fingers.” He trusts his fingers in sloppily, showcasing just how much of a mess you're making, the sinful sounds echoing around the room along with your pathetic pants and whimpers. “Can you hear it?” You think you could be heard down the hall.

Azriel was never particularly talkative, even as you grew closer, he always prefered to listen rather than speak. You really could have never imagined him to have such a dirty mouth. It never occurred to you how attractive his voice was either, probably overshadowed by everything else, but now you think you could listen to him talk forever.

“You're so wet I think I could just slip right in,” he adds more to himself than to you, but it has a destructive effect all the same. A needy whimper escapes you, your cunt instinctively clenching around his fingers at the thought.

Of course, this doesn't go unnoticed by him, making him look up with a curious and feral glint to his eyes, “You'd like that?”

The reality of the situation sobers you up for a moment, realizing that this would have a noticeable shift to your friendship, one you cherished, but as his fingers threaten to slow down their pace, likely noticing the seriousness that you felt, you grab onto him.

“Yes, I would,” you confess, looking deep into his eyes.

He picks up his pace again, those burning hazel eyes never straying from yours. “I can fuck you. I can show you every little thing those bastards never did, bring you pleasure you never thought possible,” he says, “but first you need to cum for me, alright?”

Dropping a quick kiss to your lips, Azriel moves down your body, leaving open mouthed kisses as he goes, his fingers never stopping or giving you a moment to breathe properly. He stops for a moment, lingering around the waistband of your panties, sucking a mark right above where you needed to feel him so desperately.

You're not sure if he's waiting for permission, but your hand falls to his head when it's clear he won't move on his own, giving him a more than encouraging nudge. He complies with a chuckle that sends a shiver down your spine, his warm breath ghosting over your wet flesh.

When his mouth closes around your clit, you feel an overwhelming amount of pleasure rush over you, lasting only a couple slow circles of his tongue around the sensitive spot before you cum, head falling back against the mattress, back arching into him as your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open in a silent moan of his name.

Your fingers tighten around his hair though you're unsure if you were pulling him closer or trying to push him away in the middle of the mind numbing sensations. The resulting groan he releases sends vibrations over you, only adding to the already destructive orgasm you were experiencing.

It takes you a bit to come down, and when you do you find Azriel looking down at your face, pride distinguishable in his eyes, his fingers still working inside you softly, fucking you all through your orgasm.

He smiles at you when he catches you watching him through heavy lidded eyes, “So,” he stops his movements, bringing his face, still covered in your release, closer to you. “Do you still think there's something wrong with you?”

The idea is laughable to even consider now, and you can't help the disbelieving chuckle that escapes, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a kiss.

“No, I think I just have terrible taste,” your murmur, caressing his cheek with the pad of your thumb, “Thank you for this, Azriel.”

“You don't have to thank me, love. I was more than happy to help,” he pecks your lips, a suggestive smile taking over his features, “And I still am, whenever you need me to.”

“Actually,” a grin of your own growing, your legs wrapping around his waist, almost moaning out when you felt the evidence of his arousal pressing against your sensitive heat, feeling insatiable even though he just gave you the strongest orgasm you've ever felt, “I think you just said you had a lot more to show me, right?”

[traveler-at-heart]

Hot To Go

Summary: You're horny and Natasha's teasing you. That's pretty much it!

Also, I've been telling you all to listen to Chappell Roan since last year so if you haven't, DO IT NOW.

Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Hopeless.

That’s how you feel as you walk back to the Compound, hot and bothered. The plan is to go straight to your room, but Wanda’s in the living room reading her book.

“Did you have fu…?” she says as soon as you walk in.

“Nope” you don’t let her finish, plopping next to her on the couch.

“What…”

“Garden gnomes”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific”

“We were having dinner, she invited me over for coffee. And when I went inside her apartment, I was met with at least fifty figures of garden gnomes”

“Like… decoration?”

“Like pets, according to her” you rub your eyes, trying to erase the image from your mind. “I was willing to maybe ignore it… until I went to her room and there were a dozen more”

“So? Just turn off the light” Wanda says, with a neutral expression. As if she’s not hearing the weirdest fucking thing on the planet right now.

“No, she said we should leave it on because they’re scared of the dark”

That finally breaks her and she lets out a loud laugh.

“Not funny” you throw a cushion towards her and she catches it.

It’s been four months since you’ve gotten laid. Not like you can’t handle a dry spell, but for some reason -perhaps the stress of work and missions- you’ve been particularly… needy. But everytime you go on a date, it ends in disaster.

“I should join a convent” you groan, your head resting on the back of the couch as you look at the ceiling.

“Nice, surrounded by other women. Maybe then you’ll get lucky”

“Not funny” you repeat, defeated.

“What about…?”

“Don’t” you stop her before she can even begin. You don’t need to look at Wanda to know what she’s about to say.

“I’m just saying…”

“Not another…”

“Natasha”

“…word. Damn it, Wanda. That has never been an option”

“You’re being stupid” she says and you roll your eyes, getting up from the couch.

“Gotta go and take matters into my own hands”

“Gross”

Wanda makes a face and you laugh, the both of you too distracted to notice someone else on the doorway, listening intently to the conversation.

—

Movie night is the perfect distraction, or so you think.

Since you’re all fidgety and restless, you opt for the couch in the back of the room, holding a bucket of popcorn against your chest.

The boys have settled on Atomic Blonde, with Bucky commenting the inaccuracies of the film portraying the Cold War.

His banter with Sam is enough to distract you for a little while, but then you turn back to the screen and sink in your seat.

There are two women making out, a hand going down the other one’s panties…

“Enjoying the movie?” a sultry voice whispers against your ear.

“N-Nat” you hold the bucket closer against your chest, trying to even your breathing. Where did she come from? You were sure she was skipping movie night today.

“That’s my name” she says, somehow even closer to you. Your eyes are fixed on the screen, but every other sense is registering the redhead’s presence. Her smell, the way her lips are almost touching your ear…

There’s moaning, and panting and the women on screen are kissing.

You’re about to combust, there’s no doubt in your mind.

“Use your words, pretty girl” Natasha whispers and you whimper.

“It’s a good… great movie” you manage to say, gulping.

Natasha’s hand moves forward and you’re hipnotized by those slender fingers, grabbing some popcorn out of the bucket and placing it slowly in her mouth.

“Catch you later?”

All you can do is nod dumbly, feeling the heat rising to your ears.

As soon as she walks out the living room, you stand up, sprinting to your bedroom.

“Pizza just got here” Tony calls after you.

“I’m not hungry” you lie, shutting the door behind you.

Not for food, at least.

—

It’s been two days since movie night and Natasha’s the same. So you figure your horny mind blew the interaction out of proportion.

Which is fine, because right now you can’t be distracted.

“On your knees” Natasha commands and you almost faint.

“I… what?”

As part of your quarterly evaluation, you have to take physical and psychological tests to stay on the team.

The sparring part was usually done by Steve, so you were shocked to find Natasha as soon as you walked in.

“Say you’re wounded and can’t stand up. How are you going to fight back?” Natasha walks in circles around you, and you kneel as she requested. “Ready?”

You don’t have time to answer and in a matter of seconds she’s disarmed you, her hand squeezing your troath and her body on top of yours.

It takes everything in your power not to moan.

Natasha releases you and goes at it again, and again, and again. The fighting stances change, but ultimately, you always end up against the mat, her body close to yours, feeling her hot breath against your skin.

“Tired?” she says, straddling your hips. You don’t trust in your voice, so all you do is nod.  “Fine, we’re done”

Natasha lifts herself from you, but you miss the contact immediately.

“Want some help getting up?” she offers when you stay on the ground.

“I just need a minute”

Your muscles are sore, your heart is beating out of your chest and the redness that invades your cheeks and ears won’t disappear.

You’re fucked. And not in the way you’d like to be.

—

Nothing un-sexier than chores.

As you walk down the hallway, you knock on the doors of some of your teammates, asking if they have dirty clothes to add to your load.

The last door is Natasha’s and you pray she’s not in her room.

“Hi, detka” she smiles as soon as she sees you.

“Dirty…” you stutter like a moron.

“What’s that?”

“Dirty clothes. I’m doing laundry but it’s not a lot. I could put some of your clothes if you need it”

“Thank you. Give me a second” Natasha takes your basket inside and comes back a second later. “Oh, I almost forgot this one” she says when you turn to leave.

“Sure, go ahead…”

The last thing you’re expecting is to see her undressing in the doorway, throwing her SHIELD t-shirt and yoga pants your way.

Natasha is standing in black underwear, staring back at you with a smirk.

“I’ll… I better go” you turn around, colliding against the door. You curse under your breath, aware that Natasha hasn’t closed the door, most likely to see if you turn around one last time.

Using other chores to distract you does the trick for a little while, but then you go back and pull the clothes out of the dryer.

Without thinking, you begin to fold them. That is, until your hands lift a lace thong that is most definitely not yours.

“Oh, great heavens” you drop it, feeling like a Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time. People wear lingerie, it’s a normal, beautiful, hot thing to do…

But if you find more like that one, you’re gonna combust. instead, you separate your clothes from hers without paying much attention to what’s in your hands. Once it’s done, you go back and knock on her door.

Thankfully, this time she’s wearing a hoodie and leggings.

“Here” you present the basket with clothes, avoiding her eyes. Natasha thanks you and you sigh with relief, walking back to your room.

“Oh, did you happen to see a red lacy bra?”

Damn it.

“Uh… I didn’t like check each thing you put in there, Nat”

“Red, unclasps on the front, has lace that only covers the nipples”

You actually have to lean against the wall, sure that your knees will buckle any minute now.

“Nope. I would remember”

“Alright then” and as if she hadn’t just melted your brain, she smiles and speaks in the sweetest voice you’ve ever heard. “Thank you”

Thank you. That image is forever imprinted in my brain.

—

How did you end up here?

Milk was all you wanted. When you mentioned you were going to the store, Natasha was quick to offer a ride.

If you had know it was on her motorcycle, you’d have politely declined.

Because, now you have your hands around her midsection, and everytime Natasha lowers her hands at a stop sign, she brushes your thighs delicately.

On the way back, there’s a particularly nasty bump on the road which makes you jump on your seat. As a result, your face sinks in Natasha’s kneck. Not for the first time, you notice the lavender smell and softness of her beautiful red hair. Comforted by her closeness, you practically melt against her. To your horror, a soft moan escapes your lips.

How you wish she hadn’t heard it, but by the way her movements falter, it’s clear she did.

Mortified, you jump the minute she parks, thanking her and disappearing in the elevator.

“Shitshitshit” you mutter, running across the living room, still carrying the bottle of milk. Wanda leans forward, intrigued by the force with which you lock your door. It all makes sense when Natasha comes in, looking for you.

“Again?” the Sokovian says, throwing a pillow towards Natasha.

“What?”

“You’ve been teasing her for weeks. It’s not funny” Wanda glares, making Natasha uncomfortable. If anyone can throw her across the room, it’s Wanda.

“Well, maybe now I will be considered an option” Natasha tries to defend herself, though it comes off as a lame excuse.

Wanda takes a second, trying to understand the meaning behind those words.

Your conversation about that date and the gnomes and Natasha… she was listening.

“That’s what this is about?!” Wanda grabs another cushion and throws it at the redhead, making sure that it hits extra hard with a whisp of red magic. “She didn’t mean you’re not an option. You are her first choice. Because. She. Has. A. Crush. On. You”

Each word is accentuated with a new wave of magic that is harmless, but enough to make Natasha jump.

“Oh” is all she says when Wanda stops.

“Fix it. Every time you tease her those thoughts get very loud, and it’s hard to ignore them”

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what she’s thinking” Natasha tries to hide her smirk.

“Who say her thoughts were the loud ones, Romanoff?”

—

As luck would have it, you couldn’t hide from Natasha much longer.

Duty called and you were placed on a mission together. You had to infiltrate the VIP room of a bar/strip club the Russian mafia owned.

The setup was fairly simple. Natasha would go inside the VIP room while you stayed outside to alert her of anything unusual. So, at least you wouldn’t have to be around each other for long. It was hard to keep sinful thought at bay when she was dressed to the nines, hoping to dash the bouncer and get access to the reserved area.

You look around the street where the main entrance is, hoping Ivanov wouldn’t get here  before Natasha was granted access.

“I couldn’t get past the bouncer” her voice interrupted your thoughts.

“What do we do now?”

“Maybe there’s a way to break into the room…”

“Apparently the only women allowed in the VIP area are dancers. Pigs” she mutters bitterly.

“I might have an idea” you say, following a girl in high heels that enters through a staff door. You sneak up right behind her and walk down a hallway. At the end of it, you find a room full of makeup, mirrors and girls in skimpy outfits.

Oh, God.

“Y/N?” Natasha presses through the comms.

“Looks like I’m a dancer now” 

“Absolutely not. Where are you? I’m calling this mission off now” 

“Come on, Nat. I’ll just pick an outfit, and hope they’ll let me in” 

As you go around some clothes that you hope are clean, Natasha remains quiet. The least revealing outfit is a black leather mini skirt and a heart shaped top.

You are busy inspecting your reflection on the mirror when she breaks the silence.

“I don’t like this”

You don’t like it either, truth be told.

“I’m walking towards the bar. What’s your location?” there is no answer and for a moment you worry Natasha was caught. “Nat?” you insist, speaking louder as the music makes it hard to listen.

“I see you” is all she says. You look around, until your eyes meet hers. Natasha’s intense glare makes you falter, feeling as if you are naked in the middle of a room full of strangers.

“You look…”

“He’s here” you interrupt, looking behind her. “Ivanov”

The mobster leans on the railway that’s above Natasha and you, inspecting with a satisfied smirk the crowd dancing and drinking.

“Nat, you’re gonna have to trust me” you plead, walking towards her as your eyes meet Ivanov’s.

You approach the woman, swaying your hips to the beat of the music. A group of men move aside, enjoying the show that is most definitely not for them. 

Sitting on Natasha’s lap, you pull her closer by the collar of her shirt, hands going down her stomach all the way to the belt loop of her pants.

Ignoring the heat that creeps up your cheeks, you take a shot of tequila from the waiter walking by you, placing the slice of lime on Natasha’s mouth. You down the shot in one swift motion and then connect your lips with hers, taking the slice from her mouth.

“Come to the VIP area” a man appears behind you, pulling you away from Natasha. The woman is quick to stop him, a hand on his arm.

“Don’t” you warn her, because causing a scene won’t do you any good. You walk behind the man, looking around as you’re finally granted access to the VIP area.

To your surprise, there’s a second, more private room where Ivanov and all of his criminals gather around. He laughs when he sees you walk inside, patting the space next to him.

“Nice show out there” he says with a thick Russian accent. “How come I’ve never seen you before?”

“Maybe you weren’t looking hard enough for me” you say, hoping his attention will go back to the conversation happening with the rest of the men.

Sure enough, they begin to argue and you take the opportunity to lean forward and plant the bug on the table. 

“For you” a bartender appears out of nowhere, making you flinch. “You’re gonna need it for later” 

“That’s definitely spiked” Natasha comments. Her voice brings you back to reality.

“Cheers” is all you say.

You wait around for a while longer, until one of the bodyguards asks you to follow him to another room. To your horror, he locks you inside.

“Natasha, extraction” you plead, looking around the room for a way out. No answer. “Nat, please come in”

You hear a commotion outside, and look around for a weapon or anything that will help you defend yourself.

“I told you I didn’t like this” Natasha says when she opens the door and you sigh with relief. “To be clear, I’m talking about the situation. Not the outfit”

“Nat…” you breathe, happy that she came back for you. The woman approaches you, inspecting your face. 

“Are you ok? Did you take the drink?” 

“Obviously not”

“Fine. Let’s go” she grabs your hand and as you walk past the VIP room, you find all of Ivanov’s men knocked unconscious.

“Aww, all of this for me?” you joke, your hand going to your chest.

Natasha doesn’t answer, keeping a tight grip on your hand as you escape the strip club. You think she might be upset because you put the both of you at risk.

Until you’re out on the street and she pushes you against the wall, her body trapping you in place.

“I really wanted to do this nicely” her eyes drift to your cleavage and the look of pure lust drives you forward, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. “Go out with me” she says when you break apart.

“Dressed like this or…?” you joke, biting your lip.

“No, I’d like to be the only one enjoying this view”

“Ok” you laugh. She’s about to lean forward again when you hear a couple of men running around, probably looking for you. “We should go” Natasha complains and you kiss her cheek. “Don’t worry, I’m definitely gonna need help to take this clothes off”

“Let’s go” she says, looking around the street before pulling you to the car that you parked hours ago. 

“Your room or mine?”

“Which one is farthest away from Wanda?” Natasha says, buckling her seatbelt and turning on the car.

“What?” 

“Trust me, it’s for everyone’s own good. Your thoughts aren’t the only thing that will get very loud”

You laugh as she speeds back to the Compound. 

At last, you were about to get lucky, with the girl of your dreams no less.

[dilfluvrr10]

Hello can you write a smut about virgin joost x virgin reader? Thankss

I wrote this pretty quickly so ignore any errors but this one's for all the horny bastards out there. I see you.

Stolen Glances ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

CW: Nsfw, age gap

word count: 2.5k

(I was writing from 1st person than kept randomly switching to 2nd person when I was thinking of Joost's pov, she's a little messy sorry)

My thoughts ran wild as I chewed on the end of my pencil. I was supposed to be revising for my biology exam tomorrow, but how could I when a man as heart throbbing as Joost was sat right in front of me. My father was a well-established manager who had represented the biggest musicians of my time. He had reached out to Joost after his breakthrough single ‘Friesenjung’ and together they had boosted Joost’s international stardom to new levels. My father always had a good eye for talent. They had developed a close bond over the short time they had worked together, my father, a clever and creative man who never stifled Joost’s artistry. Ever since I was a little girl I’ve always been involved in his work, going on tour, tagging along for press and having a string of musicians over at our house constantly. But this was different. Maybe it was just hormones or whatever, a part of growing up, or maybe it was because father was particularly fond of him, or maybe it was the way he always acknowledged me. I don’t know what it was, but he made me feel things I’ve never felt before.

He sat directly in front of me, discussing marketing for his next song, a favourable topic for both Joost and my father. They had been at it for hours, going back and forth intently at our dining room table when I walked in- deciding I wanted to do my work in more ‘natural light’. Of course, I just wanted to be around Joost, his entire demeanour utterly intoxicating to me. I sat at the end of our long dining table, and with my father’s back turned to me, I couldn’t resist stealing glances at Joost every chance I got. In a daze, I admired the way his brows subconsciously furrowed a little in concentration, the way he talked so expressively with his hands. His hands. My mind gradually became clouded with thoughts of his hands roaming my body, what his hands would look like around my neck. I bit down harder on the pencil, almost touching lead. Discreetly, I crossed my legs and squeezed my thighs together, feining for any pressure down there.

Joost could feel your eyes swallowing him whole. It was nothing new to him now, you always had your beautiful doe eyes plastered to him. He had no problem with the admiration you gave him, he understood your young curiosity. He also understood he could never act on it, could never betray his manager like that. Touching his daughter in all the places she daydreamed about, taking a bit of her sweet innocence away all for himself. No. He’d stay out of your way, be kind to you in other ways, like helping with your school work (even though he was hopeless in his own high school days) and making sure you weren’t too stressed with exams by making you laugh whenever he could. You had been staring at him for quite a while now, you must’ve been particularly horny today, he thought to himself. A slight smirk nipping at the corners of his mouth. He leaned back in his chair and adjusted his pants around his crotch knowing you’ll catch it.

I nearly threw up as he moved in his chair, legs spread as he leaned back adjusting his pants. My eyes grew wide with embarrassment when I noticed Joost’s gaze flicker towards me, evident he knew the affect he had on me. In a panic I hurriedly ran to my room. Tears welled in my eyes at the thought of Joost realising how I felt about him, all he’d ever been to me was kind and now he’s going to think of me as some naive girl with a hopeless crush on him. I cried, regret and humiliation in every drop that soaked my pillow. How could I have been so careless with my feelings?

A light knock at my bedroom door had awoken me from my tear-fueled slumber. Vaguely disorientated, I searched around for my phone. The bright, white light illuminated the room: 9:15pm. “Shit” I wasn’t meant to sleep all day. Groggily, I got to my feet and shuffled over to the door, questioning who it might be.

Joost could tell you had been crying, your eyes red-rimmed and still slightly swollen. He hated seeing you like this, “oh, I’m sorry did I wake you?” his voice soft and concerned.

“Joost…no, no it’s fine...everything okay?” the back of my throat burned, and my voice was faintly raspy.

“You left your things on the table, I just thought I’d drop them off before I went to bed,” he handed me my textbook and laptop but lingered in the doorway as if he had something else to say.

“Are you okay? You’ve been in your room since lunch, tell me what’s going on,” Joost always carried a comforting energy, I felt like I could tell him anything. But not this.

“Oh yeah I was up late last night, got really tired I guess,” followed by a small awkward laugh. Joost stood tall in front of me, having to look up to talk to him filled me with dirty thoughts. He wore a white tank, plaid pyjama pants and his night prescription glasses. His hair scruffy, signalling he had already been in bed. I began questioning the intentions of Joost’s visit, did he really just want to return my things? This late at night? No matter how guilty I felt, I couldn’t shake the butterflies growing in my stomach at the tension between us.

He looked down at you, you were avoiding eye contact now, your leg bouncing nervously and your fingers tapping the door where you held it open. Oh how shy he made you, how vulnerable and yielding. He felt bad after what had happened today, he contemplated for hours in bed if he should make it up to you tonight or just let it be. But seeing you now made it an easy choice.

“You know, I really don’t mind” he almost whispered, tilting his head and stepping ever so slightly closer. I glanced up once again, confusion and anticipation coursing through me. “Mind what?” I asked through a clueless façade. He shook his head, slowly stepping forward until he was completely in the confines of my bedroom, closing the door gently behind him. Just me and him. “I see the way you look at me…I’ve seen the way you cross your legs in the process” a wild smile danced over his lips, that’s when I realised this was all wildly funny to him. The entire time I’ve been losing my fucking mind over this man- he had been totally and utterly aware and amused. I scoffed at his upfront words, “God, what are you talking about Joost. You’re crazy, what are you getting at-” I was abruptly cut off by Joost’s huge hands firmly placed on my arms, pushing me back towards my bed.

“Sit.” With your lips still slightly parted with the ghost of whatever bullshit you were carrying on about, you obeyed, looking down into your lap and fidgeting with your fingers. Your surge of false confidence had been his last straw. He was going to give you whatever you wanted, all you had to do was tell him. He traced a tender finger along your jawline, he glimpsed your eyelashes fluttering from his angle, felt your breath hitch. He lifted your chin with his index finger, Those gorgeous eyes shimmering wide with unspoken desire.

Already, I was going to absolutely crumble under Joost’s very minimal touch. His fingers barely grazing my skin were well enough to send shivers cascading down my spine. I was timid and taken aback but at the same time I craved more; I wanted to feel him everywhere. “What were you saying?” he flashed another one of his cheeky grins I loved so much. His sly comment made me laugh this time around, turning the tense atmosphere surprisingly warm. He sat down next to me, causing fleeting touches of our arms and thighs. I was enveloped in his familiar scent, calming my nerves further. He placed a hand on my thigh, his tattooed finger drawing delicate circles as he spoke. “Let me give you what you want” his voice was low and hummed a beautiful harmony. I’d imagined this scenario countless times ever since I first laid eyes on my Joost. He had no idea what I’d let him do to me.

“Just be gentle,” the sweet sound of your consent aroused Joost more than he ever could’ve imagined. He wrapped his other hand around the back of your neck and pulled you in inches from him. With his thumb he caressed your bottom lip, your breathing heavy and erratic against every move he made. “I wouldn’t be anything else for you” he uttered softly, his words dripping with reassurance before grabbing your face and placing a light kiss over your needy lips.

For me, this small kiss was a revelation. The taste of him, the feeling of a mans lips pressed against mine while his hands caressed my body, it was a rush of sensations I’ve never experienced before. He lightly pecked my lips once more before smashing hungrily into me, kissing and sucking. With his hands still cradling my face and his lips still glued to mine he urged me to lay down. I wrapped one arm around his neck, and one hand curled around his bicep beside my head as he ruthlessly attacked my lips a while longer.

Heavenly whimpers escaped both you and Joost, still being cautious not to wake anyone. Pulling away and seeing your lips so swollen and kiss-bitten made Joost so proud.

My body ached for him, “I can’t take much more of this” I whined as he left a trail of kisses down my neck. He lifted my shirt up over my head and continued down my stomach, his hands eagerly grabbing the sides of my waist and tits. He stopped at the edge of my pants, sat up and came to rest his back against the head of the bed. “Come here baby” he softly instructed me while patting the space in between his outstretched legs. He held me steady while I took up position, my close to bare back comfortably leaning into his chest, the difference in size apparent. His arms draped down to my thighs, his fingers never failing to caress every inch. Waves of comfort came with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he lowered his tongue to the nape of my neck, licking a long stripe up to my ear.

“Just relax,” he breathed, making the hairs on my neck stand straight. His hands ventured back to my pants, pulling them off with deliberate slowness, I lifted my hips to help and kicked them off the bed. “You’re so beautiful,” each word warm against my skin. His tantalizing hands resumed their careful journey as the cool air nipped against my newly exposed skin. I sucked in an audible breath as his fingers trailed up my inner thigh, “Is this okay?,” he said pausing just before my underwear to gauge my reaction. A weak nod was all I could muster up, I couldn’t resist slowly rocking my hips back and forth against him from the thrill of his touch. With my eyes closed tight I buried my face into Joost as the pad of his thumb brushed over the delicate fabric along my wet slit.

You squirmed into Joost ceaselessly, as he applied more and more pressure, unknowingly giving him a massage of his own through his pants. Your panties were becoming increasingly more damp, to the point where they clung to you leaving nothing to the imagination. Joost took this as a sign you were ready for more. You hadn’t opened your eyes since he started, your head was turned to the side, buried in his chest resulting in your neck being awfully exposed. A hot half moan escaped your lips in surprise as Joost’s mouth worked skillfully on your sensitive neck, his tongue flicking against your skin before he sucked ravenously, drawing out even more of those sweet, breathless sounds. At the same time he slipped his hand underneath the waistband of your underwear. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders and mouth wide open as he stroked your swollen clit and folds. You were involuntarily trembling and bucking against him as he fingered you to the edge. Every muscle inside your body was quivering aggressively. Deep tremors formed in your core and rippled outward. All composure was gone under his overwhelming touch.

My breaths came in heavy, uneven gasps. My chest rising and falling rapidly. I was completely at his mercy as his fingers worked me closer and closer. Every nerve in my body was aflame, my senses so desperately flooded by the delicious friction and heat of his touch. I was right there, teetering on the edge, ready to dive into the abyss of ecstasy he had created. Then his hands pulled away.

The abrupt halt left me gasping, my body trembling with unfulfilled need and anguish. My eyes flew open to meet his, “Joost, why would you stop?” He ignored my question and kissed me in compensation. “Not yet” was all he gave me. I kissed him open-mouthed and needy, my heart ponded in my chest, tension lingering in my aching body. With our lips still attached I wrapped a hand around the firm forearm draped around my waist and guided him back to down to the hot mess he had left me with. Desire still burning hotter than ever.

“You need me that bad baby,” his accent a seductive melody. “Please,” the desperation in my voice so evident- my cheeks burnt red. He gave no resistance to the tiny hand around his wrist, full of urgency and insistence. This time your eyes never left his, the intensity of longing clear to him. He found his hand back where you needed It most, your hips arched, silently begging for his touch. The moment his fingers made contact once again, a shudder ran through you, a suppressed moan released. “Don’t stop,” you commanded. You had a certain feralness to you the second time around, showing him exactly where and how you wanted him. Never letting go of the tightening grip around his wrist. Your body was pressed tightly into Joost’s, using him shamelessly like a toy. You needed him to finish what he had started, and you weren’t afraid to show him how much you wanted it. The reserved nature he knew you by was overcome by an insatiable desire. He pushed his tattooed fingers deep into your gushing entrance, frantically pumping in and out of you. “Fuckk,” tears spilled down your cheeks as you finally came.

Joost’s touch softened immediately, noticing you were overstimulated. You turned to your side still heightened with emotions and riding out the orgasm. With tender care Joost cradled you in his arms, running his hand through your hair, soothing you through the storm. “You’re okay.”

Nestled into the curve of his arms, you felt a soft blanket envelop you, and with a sigh of content you allowed yourself to surrender to sleep.

----------♡--------------------♡--------------------♡--------------------♡

(And he never even took any cloths off)

Also just realised I never actually stated she was a virgin

[sideysvault]

⋆.˚✮ Unexpected love admissions with Deadpool ✮˚.⋆

Pairing: Wade Wilson x fem!reader

Friends to lovers

wc: 919

Warnings: Foul language

───────

Even if it could be considered a bit unconventional, Wade sees nothing wrong with how the two of you act. However, the truth is that your friendship with him has never been characterized by having too many boundaries.

Neither of you spare a second thought when you nap together, or buy home decorations, or when you're cuddled against him on the couch while you are watching a movie. You think nothing more of it when one of you walks into the bathroom while the other is showering because you really need to ask them something important.

And if anyone dared to bring it up, both of you had a ton of excuses prepared. Your favorite one was that you both could be described as workhorses (Sure, his job was a bit more dangerous than yours. But, still…) So, you made a point of stating that you "don't have the time for a relationship". Still, you guys always found some time to hang out and be together.

But it all changed recently.

Lately, you’ve been noticing a shift in the way your heart reacts to his proximity. In the way your eyes seem to follow him around in any room, any crowd. Suddenly, every mundane show of affection meant something more to you. And it honestly terrified you. You had always managed to push the feelings you had towards Wade deep inside you, even occasionally forgetting about them.

Because at the end of the day, he was a buoyant man. His affections weren’t easily swayed, and he was very loyal, but he constantly jokes around and flirts with anyone in his vicinity. There was no reason for you to get your hopes up just because he crossed the boundaries of what a normal friendship usually looked like. Deadpool crossed every line, all the time, with anyone. But reasoning with yourself was hopeless. And as the weeks went by, so did your infatuation with him. By the time he showed you his face, It was no longer concealable. The fact that he trusted you enough to be that vulnerable with you was just the final drop: You were in love with Wade.

You freaked out, and so, the constant hangouts were getting more and more scarce. The excuses varied, but none of them were particularly convincing. You took the cowardly way out. Whenever he came in for a hug, you casually avoided it. You wouldn’t jokingly flirt back anymore and the prudeness that was characteristic of a lack of intimacy and trust in the other flourished. Abruptly, you had put a lot of space between yourself and him, You knew that you were alienating him. But you truly didn't know what else to do in order to protect your heart. If things went south with him, you’d not only lose your protector, but your dearest friend.

It had been awkward. And, one night over at your apartment, you two were drinking beer and watching a shitty reality tv show when Wade got up and walked into the kitchen. Things were off with him tonight.

Hiding behind the counter, pretending to do something else and hoping that you couldn’t really hear him is when he quietly asked “Do I disgust you?”

You immediately turned around to face him. He looked like he wasn’t even aware that he had spoken such a thing before it left his mouth. Your heart dropped at the sight. He was wearing a cap tonight. And she had not thought much of it because it was getting a bit cold. Fuck. She should've known.

“That’s not it”. She quickly replied, shifting in her seat uncomfortably, “I’ve just been..”

“I don’t want another bullshit excuse, Y/N”

“You are right,” She glanced at him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for acting distant”

But he wasn’t even looking at her anymore. So, the woman made her way towards him. Gently pulling his cap off, and positioning her hands in his roughened cheeks. They were face to face now. It was now or never.

“I’m sorry for not cowboying up sooner. I just… I did not want to get hurt. You are the most lovable man I’ve ever met, Wade. And, I guess I’ve… you know. With your strength, your stupid jokes, the way you never hesitate to take action and how kind you can be towards others when you think no one will notice. I like you. And that includes your appearance too. I was being a pussy. I’m sorry for making you think those horrible thoughts.” She took a breath and looked directly into his eyes. A gaze that was filled with softness, “I will never be disgusted by you. How could I?”

For a moment, Wade did not know how to react. He thought he had scared you away with his face… But here you were, the most beautiful and smart woman he knew, looking at him with such loving eyes.

With a temptative, almost shy movement he captured your lips together.

A warm sensation took over your body. Somewhere in between red cheeks and nuzzling sensations, the hesitant kiss began to escalate. It became messy, hungry for exploration and filled with unspoken thoughts of tenderness. It finally happened. Frantic and sloppy. And it was perfect.

When things calmed down, Time seemingly stopped when Wade cupped your cheeks with his big hands and rested his forehead against yours. You both couldn’t stop grinning, filled with a rush of happiness. Maybe you two could be more than just friends.

────────

Notes: Hello beautiful Lola! I’m sorry if it’s too cheesy for Wade haha this was terribly self indulgent. It took some time but I finally wrote it. Thank you so much for your request. I hope you enjoy it! (I posted this early on my time zone so I don’t deprive you of your sleep anymore 😭) -Sidey xxxo

Based on this request.

[narislvr]

HEY THERE, SUBW4Y GIRL

one-last-stop au ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ | e.williams x fem!reader

cw? reader is painfully bad at asking women out (she will get better dw) new characters introduced, plot is beginning, literally just fluff for now, book dialog and possible(not really) spoilers, not proofread

nari note ᝰ.ᐟ Hi! I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the support on the first part of this series, it really motivates me to keep going and I hope I don't disappoint! Im not staying entirely book accurate but If you've read the book and want certain scenes to show up then please let me know! If you'd like to be part of the taglist then lmk also! That's all for now, and thank you again ♡

m.list [๋࣭🪻] part one [ 🌆 ] palestine-resources & daily click

"The spark in Subway girls eyes ignites so brilliantly that August half expect her to jump out her seat. "Wait, that's my sandwich! I invented it!" ── page 35

Weekday evening shifts were your favorite.

The lights were always dim, painting the old diner atmosphere in hues of orange and amber, and with how slow it was, you weren't forced to run around hoping that table six wouldn't holler you over as you ran to get pancakes for table nine. It was actually quite nice at times.

Being a waitress at a 24/7 diner was not in your plans when you moved away from your last campus all the way in the other corner of the country, but Millers was nice. The building, despite it’s age and outdated fashion, was homey and even with the annoyance of leaving the place smelling like pancake batter and greasey bacon, it was a place youve come to hold dear in your heart.

Having a soft spot for the place and liking your job, however, didn’t mean that you were necessarily good at it a hundred percent of the time. Sleep deprived rushes particularly, made you loath coming in saturday evenings, but today was good.

The evening had been going relatively smooth so far. In the two and a half weeks you’ve worked here, your mistakes have leveled down to now and then little to mix-ups —not counting wedsdays slip up— and your boss, Eliza, had yet to come in and save the day by placing an extra plate of toast on your tray when you accidentally forget them in the kitchen.

With it being close to nine on a Thursday, work was slow, thus, you found yourself leaning on the front counter scribbling random drawings on your notepad with a Miller’s House Of Pancakes pen in hand. With the scribbling, you mindlessly began to reflect on your week so far; your first full day of lectures went well, and balancing work and lectures hasn't been so bad yet ──but then again, the semester just started. Rent was coming up and you had saved enough to pay your share of the apartment and really other than Monday morning's coffee accident, things have been good.

Monday morning…

Subway girl.

Truth be told, you hadn't stopped thinking about the pretty stranger you met on the train a little over three days ago. Sure, she may have only offered her kindness out of pitty at the sight of your teary face, but it was something touching to you nonetheless. It was something that she needed that day, spmething that went right. You didn't see her on your commute to work earlier today, and a part of you couldn't help but feel disappointed. She was just some girl ──green eyes, freckled cheeks, tall and teasing── you had talked to for no more than five minute and yet your mind couldn't stop replaying her smile and her fingers brushing the curve of your shoulders as she wrapped her scarf around you.

You were hopeless

Eliza comes up behind you, shaking her head with a tut of her tongue as she perches her elbow on the counter beside you. "Slacking off on the job, new girl?" Her brow was arched and despite the edge in her tone, you could tell she wasn't exactly scolding you for it either.

"Sorry," you respond as you straighten yourself up. There's a hint of a smirk on the women's face for a second before she shakes her head.

"You eat?" In the six hours you've been in shift, you hadn't eaten anything other than a pack of fruit snacks you'd taken from one of your roommates snacks in the pantry, but did she really have to know that.

‘Uhm, yes?”

"Liar. That's why you slack off. You don't eat. You have no energy," Eliza shakes her head calling out to the man on the grill before you were even able to argue back.

“Jesse!”

"What!" He responds, annoyance in his muffled voice.

“Ew special”

"I already made you one!" Eliza groans, responding with a "for the new girl, Jesse," in an even more annoyed tone before turning to leave at the sound of table 3 calling for more syrup.

What in the world was an ew special?

—

An Ew Special as it turns out, was a sandwich with hashbrown and some cheesy ketchup concoction which honestly, was way better than you expected.

The time on your cracked screen marked 10:07 as you made your way into the subway station for your commute back home. Atleast tonight you'd get a decent night's rest before another full day of lectures and another evening shift. And with that, you sat on one of the benches under fluorescent lighting waiting for your train.

Around your neck was the scarf from before, this time it being worn to keep you warm rather than to cover a stain on your shirt, and definitely not because it was a gift from the handsome girl from before. Nope.

It doesn't take long for your train to arrive, and as you walk in, you can't help but glance around for a familiar auburn haired girl. And again, she's not there, what were you expecting? She was merely a kind stranger, one of the few you've encountered and have never seen again, why would she be any different?

—

The following morning, you follow your usual routine. Wake up, take your vitamin c gummy and see if there's any breakfast worthy left overs before taking a shower, get ready, and leave the 4th floor apartment to make your way to your station. It was a nice routine, one you wouldn't mind repeating the rest of your days in Seattle with the exception of one new thing you've recently had the habit of doing: look around for the girl on the subway, Subway girl.

Subway girl was a smile lost in the tracks. A girl who showed up, saved the day, and blinked out of existence.

It was embarrassing the amount of times you've looked for her only for the same result, so, in order to save yourself another disappointment, you'd instead focuse on yourself and not look around.

And you don't look around, not intentionally atleast, not until a group of late-twenty year olds step off the car two stops into your ride and you catch a glimpse of a familiar auburn girl.

Subway girl. The flannel she had worn the day you'd first met her sat neatly on her lap alowing for a better view of the outlined tattoos on her arms as her white t-shirt sleeves were cuffed below her shoulders.

You couldn't believe your luck.

Her eyes were closed as her head leaned against the window sill, but as she felt your gaze from across of her, she slowly opened her eyes and her mouth formed a soft "oh" in surprise.

"Coffee girl," She smiles, sitting up in her seat as she turned to face you directly. There's a pleasant glint in her eyes as she looked at you, one that you hoped you'd see forever.

“Subway girl.”

Her smile spreads. “Mornin’.”

Your brain tries to reply with a "hi", perhaps ask about her day, but your mouth goes to say "morning", and so what comes out is, "Horny.”

Maybe it's not too late to jump out the emergency exit. You expect her to turn away, wonder why she'd even tried to talk to you, but instead she snorts.

Her eyebrows raise in amusement before she grins teasingly with her voice ever smooth, "I mean, sure, sometimes." She rolls her shoulders back and pulls down her faded green headphones, the ones you saw the day you met her, before setting them on her lap with her flannel and taking out her Walkman to pause her music. It was interesting, you'd never seen anyone actually use a Walkman ──much less walk around with it── but you didn't question it.

"Sorry, I'm─ morning brain. It's too early," you muster out and something shifts in her expression.

"Is it?" Subway girl asks with what seemed like genuine interest.

"Yeah, um... I had a late night.”

Her brows raise again, and you couldn't help but look away as she seemed to try and guess what it was that had kept you up. "Doing what?”

It's not necessarily a lie, but it's not exactly the truth, and really you just needed some cover to not look like an idiot after the word vomit from a moment earlier. "Oh, uh, I had a night shift. I wait tables at Miller's and it's twenty-four hours─”

"Miller's...? As in Miller's house of pancakes on the edge of the city?”

She rests her elbows on her knees and perches her chin on her hands. Her eyes are wide, and curious, her attention solely on you as she awaited your answer.

"You know it?”

She bites her lip, which is fine, and she shakes her head.

"Oh man, I used to wait tables there too," She says. "The owners would argue about how they wanted to name the place so it would always change until they stuck with that.. Jesse still in the kitchen?”

You laugh, her mind blown expression causing a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. Lucky again. "Yeah, he's been there forever. I can't imagine him ever not being there. Everyday as I clock in he's all─”

"Mornin' buttercup," She says in perfect imitation which earns another small laugh from you. "He's such a babe, right?”

"A babe? Oh god," Your reaction gets yet another snort out of her, and as the two of you meet gazes again you both fall into a fit of laughter. It was sweet, and nice, and maybe, just maybe, meant to be.

"Man, there's this thing they serve there now and.. God, it's delicious. I had it the other day, an Ew special'.”

The spark in Subway girls eyes ignites so brilliantly that you half expect her to jump out her seat. "Wait, that's my sandwich! I invented it!”

"No way! Really?"

"Ew is a play on to my initials E.W," She explains. "I had Jesse make it specual for me so many times that eventually everyone else started having them too. Can't believe he still makes them there. He might be in love with me or something," She quips.

"Maybe. He makes them all the time and it's absolutely delicious, it definitely brings you back after a long shift, so, thank you.”

“No problem,” Subway girl says. Shes got this far-off look in her eyes as if she were reminiscing on the sights of customers and the smells of the diner, but she shakes the look off and lets out an exhale. “God, I miss that place. I don’t know if you feel it but, something about it… It's magic.”

You don’t do magic, but who were you to say that when she looks so wistful as if there was a deeper meaning behind her words so you simply hum in agreement.

‘I don't know how they haven’t fired me yet. I’m not the worst waitress, promise, but I accidentally dropped a pie on a five-year-old two days ago. We had to give him a free T-shirt.”

It takes a second, but Subway girl laughs, loud and hearty before shaking her head. “You'll get the hang of it soon,” She says with so much confidence that you believe her instantly. “Small fuckin’ world, huh?”

“Yeah…” You agree. “Small fuckin world.”

A comforting silence lingers in the air as you smile at each other. Subway girl is the first to break it as she glances at the scarf sticking out of your bag, “Nice scarf, by the way.”

You forgot you still had it with you so you quickly go to take it out and hand it to her but subway girl is quick to hold up a hand. “I told you to keep it and besides,” she pulls out a blue plaid one out of her bag, “It's been replaced.”

You look between the scarf in your hand and the green eyed girl in front of you, “I, yeah– thank you again, so much. I wanted– I mean, it was my first day of class and i was already late and didnt want to show up looking–”

“Hey, I mean, Its not that you looked bad,” Subway girl counters. “You just… looked like you needed something to go right that morning. So.” She shrugs, and the intercom suddenly comes on, announcing a stop that was barely audible from how unusually garbled it sounded.

Subway girl points over at the board. “Thats your stop right? The one heading to the college?”

Shit. It was your stop.

You realize as you swing your bag onto your shoulder and glance at the girl across from you that you might never get this lucky again. You seeing her again after 4 days of disappointment could have just been the world messing with you, raising your hopes up only to have her leave for good leaving you with only the memory of the pretty subway masc who saved the day and left you wanting more.

“I’m working breakfast tomorrow. At Millers,” You blurt out as you stand up. “If you want to stop by I could sneak you a sandwich. As payback for the scarf y’know?”

Subway girl looks up at you with an expression so strange and unreadable that you feel your stomach drop, of course, you had to find a way to ruin this. Whatever “this” even was.

Her expression clears up however and she smiles again, “Oh, man. I'd love that.”

“Okay,” you say and start walking to the door, still looking at her. “Okay. Great. Cool. Yeah-” You were going to stop saying words any second now. God, you usually weren't this awkward about asking people out.

Subway girl only watches you go, an amused look in her eyes as she moves a strand of hair from her face.

“What's your name?” she asks.

You stop in your tracks and turn around accidentally hitting another passenger getting off with your bag. “Ah– It’s [ ]. My names [ ].”

Subway girl's smile softens as if she somehow already knew.

“[ ],” she repeats. “I’m Ellie.”

“Ellie.. Hi, Ellie.”

Subway girl, now known as Ellie, smiles. She brings her hand up to her face and gives you a small salute as you say her name, a dorky gesture but one you found endearing nonetheless.

There's a little warning bell to announce the door closing so you quickly step off while still trying to keep your eyes on the auburn haired girl.

“The scarf looks better on you anyways,” Ellie winks, and the Subway doors close in front of you.

TAG LIST ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ @seraphicsentences @amberputh @k1ssesworld @mikellie @williamellieslilho @boobdrug

[newtthetranswriter]

Could I request Spencer Reid x male reader where the reader is a baker at a bakery that Spencer goes to every morning and they dance around each other before the reader musters the courage and kisses him spender is all nervous and the reader thinks he fucked up but Spencer kisses his worries away?

Word Count: 1723

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Male! Baker! Reader

Warning: canon typical violence, takes place when Spencer is shot in the leg

A/n: Hello and once again thank you for the requests, I have enjoyed writing all of them. I hope this lives up to expectations, after all i did make you wait forever for it to be finished. Anyways, as always enjoy and remember to hydrate or diedrate.

   Spencer had started going to this little bakery on the way to work every morning for the last couple of months. If anyone had asked him why he would definitely not say it was because of the handsome baker who helps him every day and makes him feel welcome. It’s definitely not because said baker checks on him everytime he comes back from a case and gives him a free pastry because ‘they had extra’. No it was not because he got butterflies every time the baker returned his random facts with his own about baked goods. No Spencer just liked supporting small local businesses. Denial aside, Spencer really did enjoy his daily visits to the bakery. It was a good little constant in his hectic routine. 

   Y/n also enjoyed Spencer’s daily visits. Having worked at the bakery for quite some time it was only natural for him to have picked out a favorite regular, his just happened to be the brown haired doctor who works for the FBI. It was a bright part of his day when the tall man came to the shop and gave random facts about coffee or baked goods, while Y/n prepared the order.

   The friendship between baker and regular customer is normally just that. A baker who likes to make their customers feel welcome and a regular who enjoys said baker’s small talk. But for these two it quickly became something a little more. Small talk about where Spencer had gone on his latest case and how Y/n decided running a bakery was his dream, turned to slightly longer conversations about other aspects of their lives. Spencer voicing his worries for his mother and Y/n talking about some stupid thing a family member had gotten mad about.

   As their friendship grew, so did the longing in both of their hearts. Neither man was sure what the other felt about him, so it was left to glances and subtle flirting. Well subtle flirting from Y/n’s side of things, Spencer wasn’t great with flirting. Either way they both fell into a routine of dancing around their true feelings, not wanting to ruin the calm mornings they spent together when Spencer wasn’t away on cases.

   This dance of theirs went on for a few months, Y/n trying to get Spencer to realize he was interested by giving him free pastries and Spencer being clueless. Spencer may not have realized what Y/n was doing but he also was trying to show interest in his own way. His random daily facts had gone from the usual comments about how or why people make certain treats, to details that pertain more to the romantic side of things. Y/n just thought Spencer had run out of his usual facts and that the ones he was using now, were just what he had left. Both men were clueless and to anyone who saw from an outside point of view they both looked hopeless.

    Everything finally changed one day. There wasn’t anything particularly different about the day, at first. What was different was instead of the normal lanky doctor walking through the doors right as the bakery opened, a blonde woman with funky glasses walked in instead. This wouldn’t have been weird had she not looked like there was something wrong and walked up to the counter looking around frantically.

   “Um excuse me, I’m looking for Y/n Y/l/n.” The woman asked.

   Having heard the woman speak, Y/n walked from the back where he was prepping some pastries for the oven. Wiping his hands on his apron, Y/n greeted the blonde with a gentle smile. “Hello, I’m Y/n. What can I help you with?” He asked hoping that it was something he could get sorted and not take too long on, after all he just assumed this was an unhappy customer coming to complain.

   “Um, Hi. I’m Penelope Garcia, I work with Spencer at the FBI.” The woman explained. Hearing that she was one of Spencer’s coworkers, Y/n had to fight down the rush of worries that clouded his mind.  “Before you freak out he’s okay, well he was shot but he’s okay. Anyway he just told me that you would be expecting him and that someone needed to let you know he was okay.” The blonde explained.

    Taking a moment to process the information, Y/n decided that he needed to see for himself that Spencer was in fact ok. “Could I go see him?” It was the only question Y/n could think of to get his point across. 

     Penelope smiled at him, before nodding. “Yeah of course I was going to go up and keep him company for a little bit, so if you want to, you can come with me.” She offered quickly. Penelope was one of the only people Spencer told about Y/n and his feelings for him, so she figured he would be fine with Y/n tagging along to check on him.

     “I would appreciate that, thank you.” Y/n answered, then he turned to one of his employees who was nearby. “Would you mind watching the shop for a bit? I should be back later.” He asked while taking off his apron. Receiving an affirmative answer, he proceeded to grab quickly finished making the cup of coffee he always had ready for Spencer every morning, along with one for Penelope and himself. On his way out he also managed to grab a few pastries Spencer would enjoy.

     The ride to the hospital was a mix of awkward silence and Penelope trying to get Y/n to relax a little bit. The tech wizard asked questions about the bakery and how Y/n enjoyed working there. Y/n answered all her questions but it didn’t take a profiler to know his mind was on the well being of one Dr. Reid.

     Once they finally arrived Y/n had to hold himself back from just rushing through the hospital in search of Spencer. Luckily Penelope was quick to have him follow her to the Dr.’s room. Knocking on the door, hearing a quiet ‘come in’ Penelope opened the door slowly. “Hey Boy wonder, how’s your leg doing?” She asked, holding back her smile at the fact she was hiding something from the man.

     “It’s fine, going to take some time until I’m able to walk again, but good with all things considered.” Spencer answered honestly. Finally looking up at his friend he noticed two things were off. One she was still standing near the door and two she was holding a very familiar to-go style coffee cup. Figuring the coffee was just from her stopping to inform Y/n about what happened, he chose to ask about the more obvious thing. “Why are you standing by the door like that?” He asked, head tilted to the side in confusion.

    Finally letting the smile she was holding back take over her face, she stepped aside. “Well, I made a stop at your favorite bakery and picked up something for you.” She explained enjoying watching the look of confusion deepen before morphing into a surprised look upon seeing Y/n standing there holding two coffees and a box of what he could only assume to be pastries.

   “Hey Spencer, I was worried when Penelope told me you had been shot. She said it was fine but I just needed to see for myself that you were really ok.” The baker rambled as he approached the side of the hospital bed. “ I asked if I could come see you and when she offered to bring me with her to see you I jumped at the chance. Oh and I also brought you a coffee just the way you like and some fresh pastries. I know how bad hospital food can be so I thought it may help to lift your spirits a bit.”

   Spencer couldn’t hide his smile as Y/n sat down in the chair next to the bed. “Thank you Y/n, you didn’t have to do that.” He gladly accepted the cup of coffee. “Anyway, are you sure it’s okay that you’re here and not at the bakery?” He was worried about the small business.

   Letting out a small chuckle, Y/n responded. “Yeah it’s fine, I left one of the more experienced bakers in charge. Plus if I had to I would have closed for the day, making sure you’re okay is worth more to me than a day of sales.” Y/n explained.

   Before either could continue speaking the third person in the room spoke up. “I think I’ll leave you two to talk. I should probably get back to the office to see if the team needs any tech help.” Penelope excused herself not leaving any room for either to protest.

   After Penelope left it was quiet for a few minutes. Neither being sure what to say, how strange two people who love talking to each other are rendered speechless when left alone in a private setting. Thinking of what to do next Y/n could only think of one thing. He was so happy that Spencer was in fact okay and after feeling such intense worry over his well being, Y/n began to realize just how much Spencer really meant to him. Deciding that their flirting wasn’t enough and not knowing exactly how to word his confession, Y/n decided the only way to get the clueless Doctor to understand would be to be as direct as possible. Which led the pair to this moment.

   Y/n had taken the moment of silence to settle his nerves before leaning closer to Spencer and before the genius could ask what was happening, the baker had placed a kiss to his lips. It was effective in leaving the man speechless. After pulling away the silence continued as both parties processed what just happened.

   When seconds turned to minutes Y/n’s doubts began to creep in, worrying that he ruined everything. “I’m so sorry, I was just so worried about you and then -” he was cut off mid ramble by Spencer leaning forward and returning the kiss. Both quickly relaxed into it, glad to finally be done with dancing around their feelings.

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

everybody’s goin’ off the deep end (s.h. x reader)

A/N: Long time no see! I wrote this in the midst of Steve Harrington brain rot, I hope you enjoy! If you prefer, you can find it here on Ao3!

Summary: Your life has always been simple. Not necessarily easy, but simple. You know your way around the world you live in. You love your dad, your friends and your exceedingly nerdy babysitting charges. When you’re assigned to be Steve Harrington’s tutor because he is one step away from being kicked off the basketball team, you can feel things beginning to shift in your small town. And that’s just the beginning.

Friday, November  4, 1983

“I think it’s time we admit that this is hopeless.” Steve Harrington looked positively morose, hunched over his Hawkins High School issued copy of Macbeth for the third Friday in a row.

You did your best not to laugh, but he just looked so ridiculous leaning back in his chair far enough that the front legs rise off the ground, shoulders slumped and pencil tapping against the table rapidly. “It’s been ten minutes, and we’ve only made it through two pages.” If you hadn’t been anticipating the slam of the front two chair legs on the floor, you would have jumped out of your seat. You had several times in the past few weeks, even. 

But by now, you had the routine down. For the first fifteen minutes, Steve would joke and grumble, hoping that you would offer to cut your session short. Had he been assigned any other mandatory tutor during the meeting with Ms. Chen, the school counselor, and two out of three of his basketball coaches, he would have had a shot. But you’d had one too many reluctant students stuck in front of you at a library table in your time to give in to his whining. 

“Exactly!” He tapped his pen against the copy of Macbeth in front of him on the desk, accentuating his point. “Two pages in ten minutes is a horrible track record!” His eyebrows drew together, as they always did when he was particularly pouty. “Besides, Mrs. Brown already spoiled the whole thing.” You raised your eyebrow, continuing to make notes in your already  extensively annotated copy. “Calling it a tragedy in class kind of ruins the ending, you know?” You missed the way Steve’s eyes sparkled as you threw your head back in laughter. 

“That’s just the type of play, Steve. There’s comedies, tragedies, like Macbeth, and histories.” You glanced over to see Steve slumped over the table, his cheek resting on his hand. “It might be helpful to write that down.” He blinked, seemingly confused for a moment. “For the test?”

“There’s going to be a test?” Steve looked mournful. 

“I know that Mrs. Brown went over the syllabus on the first day of class. And there have definitely been tests over the other two books so far. What do you mean what test?” You looked up from your folder, where you had been shuffling through past syllabi to find a lopsided smirk on Steve’s face. “You can’t do that, Steve!”

“I’m offended you bought that! You know I’m taking this seriously.” He looked slightly sheepish at the realization you might not believe him. You took a moment to consider. You’d started studying together a few months ago, and Steve had been remarkably punctual, and had yet to cancel a session. He’d only forgotten to bring his work once and remained apologetic the whole session, even when you’d reassured him that it was fine. You’d spent the hour hunched over your notes with him beside you, you providing insight into the short story from class while Steve did his best to make you laugh. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” 

Steve’s eyes grew wide, mock astonishment clear on his face. “An apology?” 

“Oh my god, shut up, Harrington.” You playfully roll your eyes, before sliding your own copy of Macbeth towards him. “Trade me.” 

Steve glanced down at your copy, grinning. “Do they know you’re defacing school property, Ms. Clarke? I’m not sure that your father would approve.”

“My dad spends all day trying to convince middle schoolers to retain information about layers of the Earth’s crust. He’d just be glad I am taking an interest in an academic pursuit.” 

“Even if it’s English?” 

You smile to yourself, remembering the year you had to admit to your dad that your Science grade was not what it should be. You’d built being that daughter of Scott Clarke, science enthusiast and Earth and Biology Teacher extraordinaire of Hawkins Middle, up in your mind to be a heavy burden to bear. You’d been so afraid to hand your report card over, but he’d diligently ignored your C- and instead waxed poetic about your perfect English score. “Finally, someone to round out the knowledge base in this house!” He’d beamed and loaded you into the car for ice cream with an urgency unbecoming of the situation. 

“Especially if it’s English.” You leaned over the table, quickly finding where you and Steve had left off in your copy and pointing it out to Steve. “Start there, let’s try again.” You made it through the next two scenes, with only minor detours, usually when Steve found one of your annotations particularly amusing. 

The door to the library squeaked open, breaking your focus. Nancy and Barb hurried over to your table, crowding around your study materials. “Macbeth cannot possibly be so interesting that you forgot we had plans.” Nancy joked, Steve’s arm settled over the back of the chair. Nancy insisted it ‘wasn’t anything serious’ but you caught them making moon eyes at each other the last few times that your tutoring sessions ran over, and you could have sworn that last week he slipped his number into her notebook when he thought no one was looking. 

You glanced up at the clock, cringing internally when you realized you were, in fact, fifteen minutes late to meeting your best friends in the parking lot. Across the table, Steve let out a heavy sigh. “We were a little too into the ghost of Banquo in here.” 

Barb gave Steve a weird look. You were almost sure that she was going to say something, her eyebrow was quirking up in the way it usually does when she is about to be snarky, but the moment passed, somewhat awkwardly, but passed all the same. “I’ll see you next week, Steve.” You stood up from your chair,  Nancy and Barb following your lead. Steve started to slide your copy of Macbeth back to you across the table. “Keep it, maybe you can get through a few chapters on your own before I see you again.” 

“You firing me, Clarke?” 

“I don’t think I have the power to fire you from mandatory tutoring, Harrington.” 

Steve gifted you a rarity, one of his genuine smiles that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly before standing up and heading for the library doors. “See you on Monday, Ladies!” He offered the three of you a joking salute and a wink before heading for the parking lot. 

“Doesn’t he know we are all going the same way?” Barb said, breaking the silence of the library. The three of you dissolved into giggles, and you took your time packing your book bag, not not in the hopes that you would avoid running into Steve again in the parking lot. As much as you loved Nancy, it was almost painful for you and Barb to watch her try to keep whatever is going on with her and Steve from the two of you.

______________________________________________________________

“What about this?” Nancy held up a pink blouse off the rack, eyebrows raised. 

“It’s nice, Nance, but I just can’t understand the urgency.” You laughed. The three of you’d had plans to head to Benny’s for milkshakes, as you did every Friday, but on the way Nancy had begged to stop at Pam’s, the clothing store downtown. Reluctantly, you’d parked your dad’s car out front and let her drag the two of you inside. Nancy ducked her head, blush taking over her cheeks as she put the shirt back. Her dismissive muttering could barely be heard over the store’s speakers, blaring the new Cyndi Lauper single. 

“Oh come on, Nance.” Barb rolled her eyes, snatching the blouse off the rack again. Nancy’s eyes were wide as her head snapped up to meet Barb’s gaze. “You are horrible at this. Just tell us what’s going on with Steve!”

Nancy grabbed for the shirt, but Barb was holding it over her head while you did your best to hold in your laughter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Nancy grabbed for the shirt, looking back at you over her shoulder clearly asking for help. All you could do was shrug. 

“We saw him put his number in your notebook, and the last two times I called your line was busy! It’s never busy!” Nancy’s blush was creeping down her neck. She gave up the fight for the blouse, looking at you accusatorially. Another shrug, and a nod had her looking like she was going to stomp her foot. 

“I just-“ she paused, taking a deep breath “I need to make sure that Steve Harrington isn’t going to steal both of my friends.” 

“Barb what are you talking about?” On some level, you could understand why she was worried about Nancy. It wasn’t typical for the three of you to have secrets. But you’d tutored countless people, or joined different after school activities, and she’d never worried about the state of your friendship before. 

Barb hesitated, suddenly looking ashamed. “Nothing, it’s-” she dropped the hanger back on the rack, her hands twisting together nervously. “It’s nothing, swear.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. You and Nancy shared a look, not entirely convinced. 

Without a word, the two of you wrapped your arms around Barb sandwiching her between the two of you as you had done since preschool whenever someone was having a hard day. It had been a while since you’d had reason for a best friend sandwich, but when Barb wrapped her arms around the both of you, leaning her head on top of Nancy’s, you knew you’d made the right choice. “You should get the shirt, Nance. I think Steve will really like it.” Your voice came out muffled, and you couldn’t see Nancy’s face because it was smushed into your arm, but you would have sworn that you felt her smile.

______________________________________________________________________________

You pulled into the Hawkins Middle parking lot doing your best to keep your smile from turning into a grimace. Nancy had been stuck debating between two options at Pam’s for a solid twenty minutes, and after Barb’s minor breakdown, you hadn’t felt it was the time to rush anyone. You threw the car into park and barely managed to stop yourself from sprinting as you headed for your dad’s classroom. The tension left your chest when you heard the screaming from down the hall. In any other situation it would have had the opposite effect, but hearing the AV Club chattering away meant that even if you were running late, your dad is running later. 

“Like I said boys, it should be here next week but there is just no telling for sure.” Your dad had run the Hawkins Middle AV Club for as long as you could remember, but he had never had such an enthusiastic membership. In years past, you’d stop by a meeting or two after outgrowing the appropriate age for club participation, but you’d babysat for a few of the kids before, and you had a special soft spot for them. The unanimous, synchronized exclamations of “Bea!” as you rounded the corner led you to believe the feelings were mutual. 

Bea was a nickname that had pulled double duty since you were little. Bea, as in short for Beatrice, your middle name after your grandmother who had passed long before your arrival, and Bea as in bumble bee. You were a Bea to everyone, but when your dad used the name, you both knew the difference. You gave everyone a warm smile and a small wave, plopping down in a desk close to the door. 

“As soon as it comes in, you all will be the first to know.” 

“And the only ones to care.” Mike muttered, causing you to hid your smile behind your hand, in an effort not to encourage them. The boys almost instantly began to speak over one another, calling dibs on who got the first go, where they should call first. Your dad gave you a smile that said ‘there’s nothing I can do about this’. 

You coughed a few times, gaining the boys’ attention. “You guys do know you are cutting it close if you want to be somewhere with cable, so you can catch the new episode of that Dungeons and Dragons show. It comes out on Fridays, right?” The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, before they started hastily shoving books into backpacks and tearing out of the room. You stuck your head out of the doorway, calling after the boys to remind them you would see them at the Wheeler’s on Sunday. You were planning on studying for your chemistry test with Nancy. You had probably fifty vocab words to make flashcards for, not to mention the equations and elements you needed to know for your test next week. They waved without turning around before sprinting out the doors of the school. 

______________________________________________________________________________

Sunday, November 6, 1983

You’d been able to hear the boys screaming in the basement from your spot on Nancy’s bed for the last few hours. You had a rare weekend off from babysitting, as most of your regulars were currently 9 hours deep into a Dungeons and Dragons campaign in the Wheeler’s basement. Weekends without a babysitting gig were more frequent now that the boys were old enough to bike home from school alone. You would watch Lucas’s little sister on occasion, and Holly more regularly, but it was far more common to end up at the Wheeler’s with Nancy for a while and then offer give the boys a ride home. They would take you up on it if the weather is bad but more often than not, they preferred to race home. 

You and Nancy had been pretending to study for the same amount of time. You’d arrived with the best of intentions, your bag heavy with notecards and textbooks, but Nancy had a new copy of Tiger Beat, and then she’d launched into an hours-long grievance against Steve having yet to take her on a real date. Apparently, grabbing a milkshake after school didn’t count, “we do that all the time anyways”, and a makeout session in his care was not cutting it either, “besides it was only like, one time”. Ever since Barb had weaseled the confession out of her at Pam’s, it was like the dam was broken. You’d managed to corral her into focusing on studying for all of ten minutes  while you secretly contemplated if it was over stepping to bully him into just asking her to go steady if it meant you got your study partner back, when her new blue phone started ringing on her bedside table. She popped up to answer it, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You’d made double the note cards she had and you still had two chapters to go. You’d largely tuned her out until you heard Steve’s name. 

Your eyes snapped to Nancy’s, a blush already having taken over a vast majority of her face. You heard some murmuring from your spot across the bed, but nothing that you could make out clearly. Maybe he was finally working up the nerve to invite her on a proper date. Her shoulders deflated, and the blush was quickly receding from her face when she looked at you. Without a word, she held the phone out to you. 

You frantically shook your head, she shoved the phone farther across the bed, causing the base to tumble onto the floor, pulling the handset out of her grasp with it. You both scrambled for the phone but Nancy was quicker, snatching it off of the floor and holding it up to your ear. “Hello?” You asked, wincing when your voice came out squeakier than you were used to. 

“Hi, I, uh, I called the number you gave me but your dad answered. Said you’d be here.” Steve sounded almost bashful, which was not something you were used to hearing from him. 

“Did my dad say something to you?” Nancy leaned her head closer to the receiver, and you adjusted to make more room for her. 

“Just that learning is a voracious and exciting river, and you have to give yourself over to the current, or something.” Nancy started to giggle, you gently shoved her back against her pillows. 

“Yeah, that sounds like him. Did you,” you pause, struggling to sound less surprised than you were, “need something, Harrington?” 

“I just,” he paused, and you could almost see the way his gaze gets stuck on the ceiling while he tries to work up the nerve to say something he is worried will make him sound stupid. “I needed to know what was up with Lady Macbeth’s weird bloodstain monologue. All you had in the margins was that she was ‘wickedly fucked’. Don’t get me wrong, you’re right, I think anyway, but why is she so crazy all of a sudden.” 

You sighed. You’d given him your number after he’d canceled a session during lunch after you and your dad had already arranged the car schedule one too many times, and begged him to call if he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it as soon as he could. It wasn’t exactly for study emergencies, not that you had ever really expected Steve Harrington to have one. “She and Macbeth have swapped how they were at the beginning. Remember how you said he was being a bitch and she was a badass for plotting Duncan’s murder?” You could hear his hair rustling against the speaker, and you could picture him nodding through the phone. It didn’t seem like the time to remind him there was no possible way you could see him. “Well, now she is regretting rushing in and being brash, and he has fully accepted what the witches said at the beginning.” “That it’s his destiny to be the king?” “Yep, you’ve got it. The whole thing is about how power and ambition is corrupting.” More rustling. “Steve, are you nearly done with the play?” “I finished it, that one part was bugging me that’s all.” 

“You finished it?!” You winced at the surprise that was clear in your voice. Nancy had not looked this confused since the time you told her the boy’s campaign had actually been interesting the last time you watched them as a group after Joyce got called in for a last minute shift, and Jonathan had photography club, rendering him unavailable. You shrugged, not sure how to explain it. 

“Your notes were really helpful, and funny. I didn’t mean to but, yeah.” 

“Oh.” 

“Oh?” 

“I just, you said that reading Macbeth was worse than taking sandpaper to your eyes.” He’d looked like Mike when he was ten and realized that you had tricked him into finishing the steamed broccoli his mother had left for dinner, the picture of theatrical disgust. 

“I said your notes made it better, didn’t I?” 

You blinked a few times as Nancy scooched back to your side. “Well, I guess we will have a lot to talk about on Monday, then.” “Yeah, yeah. Um, tell Nancy to have a good night.” He went silent for a moment, and you searched for the right words. “And you too.” He added, derailing your train of thought. 

“Sure, Steve, goodnight.” You placed the phone back on the base as if it were a live bomb. “What was that?” 

“What do you mean what was that? You’re the one he was calling!”  

You gasped. “If one of us is more accustomed to receiving phone calls from Steve Harrington, it’s going to be you!” 

Nancy rolled her eyes, a signal as clear as ever that she was gearing up for what she liked to call a lively discussion, and you hated to admit was an argument. Before she could, the phone rang again. You held your breath, preparing to hear Steve’s voice through the phone. Thankfully, it was Barb calling to ask if Nancy needed a ride to school tomorrow, she did, and if they had been studying for Kaminsky’s test, sort of. The conversation quickly devolved into talking about Steve after Barb asked if Nancy had heard from him. Nancy was recounting the awkward conversation you’d just finished and you were doing your best not to help when there was a knock on the door frame. 

You glance up to see Dustin standing at the threshold of Nancy’s room, holding a pizza box. He shook it enthusiastically. “There’ two slices left if you want ‘em, sausage and pepperoni!” 

You are about to nod enthusiastically when Nancy tells Barb to hold on. She leaves the phone on the bed and shuts the door in Dustin’s face. “Nance!” You frown at her, and you’re off the bed and out the door before she can respond. “Dusty, wait up!” You call when you get to the top of the stairs, catching a glimpse of his hat disappearing around the corner. You find him in the kitchen, depositing the pizza box on the counter. “Did you finish the campaign?” 

“Nah, we just got to the fight with the-”

“With the demogorgon? Mike was telling me about it when I was here watching Holly last week. He seemed pleased with the planning.” Dustin shrugged, looking unusually gloomy. “Is this about Nancy?” Another shrug. You throw an arm around his shoulders, walking him to the backdoor. “She didn’t mean it, she’s having a weird night.” 

“Seems like she’s been having a weird year.” He mumbled, pulling the door and stepping outside. “There’s something wrong with your sister,” he announced, making his way over to his bike, where it sat in the Wheeler’s garage. 

“What are you talking about?” Mike huffed, exasperated. 

Lucas was quick to chime in. “Yeah, it’s because she’s been dating that douchebag, Steve Harrington.” His gaze shifted to you, looking guilty. 

You held your hands up in the air in surrender. “Don’t look at me, I’m just trying to keep him from getting kicked off the basketball team on account of his English grade.” A touch of mirth made it’s way into your eyes. “Didn’t you hear, we might actually have a shot at State this year.” The boys dissolved into giggles, kicking up the stands on their bikes, fully aware that you had never the willpower to know anything about the school’s sports teams. 

“The day that you care about the basketball team is the day that Will rolls two nat twenties in a row.” Lucas laughed. Will was a notoriously bad roller. 

You ruffled Will’s hair, discreetly checking to make sure all of the boys had their bags and the flashlights on their bikes turned on. You’d been called late at night over forgotten homework one enough that you did your best to confirm they had anything before they got too far down the street. Lucas rolled his eyes. “We have everything mom.” The rest of the boys shook with laughter. 

“Let’s see how you feel being woken up at eleven o’clock over missing math homework, and then we can talk. Are you sure you guys wouldn’t rather have a ride home?” The boys shook their heads in unison, rebuffing you when you asked fi they were sure.

They confirmed one more time that you had no updates about the new radio your dad had ordered for the AV club, before beginning to pedal away. “Be safe, boys!” You called, stepping inside, leaving Lucas and Dustin’s unified “We will!” And the sounds of Mike and Will talking softly drifting in from the garage behind you. 

You quickly said your goodbyes to Mr. And Mrs. Wheeler, stuck your head in to say goodnight to Nancy and gave Holly a hug before heading out to your car. By the time you got home, your dad was in bed, a note on the fridge reminding you about your early wake up time for tomorrow, so that he could be at Hawkins’ Middle to receive a package. You were thoroughly tired by the time that your head hit the pillow, but somehow, a pit had formed in the bottom of your stomach. It wasn’t often you tossed and turned, but when you did, you were an old pro. You lasted fifteen minutes before crawling out of bed and setting yourself up on the couch, a cup of tea and a worn old copy of A Wrinkle in Time your dad acquired in high school. It was your favorite bedtime story growing up and it usually did the trick even now. You read until your eyes got heavy and your tea grew cold, before dragging yourself back to bed in the hopes of feeling more like a well rested, responsible, functioning human in the morning. If you were being honest, the chances of that were slim. 

next chapter

[minnielvrr]

hello my darlinnnn'!! I heard you were sick !! :(( and my heart hurts for you ahhh, I hope you're feeling better and make a swift + peaceful recovery to full health and happiness ! 🫂🫶🏽🩵🌞☁️

in the meantime, have some seungmongie tickle/lee hcs that I came up with, just now, just for you 🤗:

🐶 i feel like a definite catalyst for him getting tickled to full-blown wrecked is to see his lovely smile — when I tell you I was SO SAD during that period when he hid his smile from the camera each time bcuz of antis I was DEVASTATED like STAKE TO THE HEART hopeless , but also pissed ASF because his smile is literally the sun and he is the sky like..... it's in the name? 🤨 literally !

🐶 the members/his ler will call out to him , "Sky~" , while teasing & cooing at him in order to get his cherry-blossom pink blush. he's a whole sky-scape! 😍🌸 so purty.

nah but I made myself sad js now imagining him being really down and out about his smile , believing that it's the opposite of beautiful (i almost had a stroke writing that out ☠️) but he tried to hide it from his members , & ofc they find out anyway :')) who wouldn't be able to notice their sweet lil puppy tryna hide his smile when they tickle him ??

🐶 it takes a loooot of reassurance and sweet cuddles and kisses , both the little things and the big things , & it's all worth it because eventually he comes back into himself , letting his smile & laugh overtake the atmosphere freely !! shining light and cloud-soft love everywhere it reaches. 😍🥰 (AS HE SHOULD 🗣️)

🐶 i imagine he has the cuuuutest squeaky/gasping bouts of laughter when they do the grab-and-shake/digging fingertips tickle method 🫠 he tries to curl up into himself but his ler's body is preventing him from doing so , and his hands are like little paws against his chest , head thrown back , eyes becoming pretty crescents and , most importantly , his smile is wide and unrestrained as he gasps through squealy laughter.

🐶 hermit crabs often because of one sly little fox , who's always going for the junction where behind his ears meets his nape (maybe it's js me but that area is so ticklish for me !! 😭 nowhere else on my neck !! sickening !!)

🐶 really likes to sprawl out on his ler / have them sprawl out on top of him , like a comforting weighted blanket , after a particularly adventurous session. he'll fall asleep w/ a smile that eventually morphs into his cute lil pout and aaaughghhh 😩🤲🏽 u just can't resist some smooches here and there.

🐶 hides his face in his ler's neck when he's particularly shy & because he's a menace thru and thru , no matter what situation he's in , he will straight up grapple them into a hug even as they dig into his sides , even as he howls with laughter into their shoulder. only way to untangle him is to go for the feeties — scribble on the bottom of the puppy's paws and he's springing open like a lock with a shriek. & the punishment is even MOREEE tickles than previously bargained for !! (maybe it was his plan all along...? 🙂‍↕️)

🐶 he's got a mole on his upper back / right below his neck line , a little to the right , and it's a common target during tickle seshes ; he's so used to getting a beginning - during - and ending kiss pressed to that very mole so when he's in a lee mood , he subconsciously reaches back and strokes over it. when the members caught on , he was forced into submission a loooot more often 😌 & he didn't catch on at first !! he was probably thinking everybody became Aware and Alive all of a sudden because how could they tell he wanted to be tickled in that moment?? hm hm suspish suspish & that's what made that little window of time so delicious~ 😝🫠

🐶 if he's hungry/thirsty after being tickled , he likes to sit and lean back against his ler's tummy + torso with them laying on their side as they rub his back in a soothing manner while he's munching/sipping on his snacks :(( he really likes chips and his guilty pleasure are the cute pop culture themed fizzy & fruity drinks.

🐶 pleaseeee give him back and head scratches/rubs to lull him to sleep :(( rub at his tummy like u would a puppy :(( gently stroke his nose bridge or rub his cheekbones :(( he sleeps very wonderfully after a rough tickle session !!

gosh, writing these out made me realize how much I actually love this guy :']

omgg I love you so much zizi, this made me feel so special ml, i'm feeling a little bit better now, not all the way there but yea💖

thank you so much zizi, these made me so happy today🥺🫂

baby you should really consider writing these as fics if you feel up to that cuz omg these are so flustering sgjhdak🫠

esp the sky and sun comparison? gosh that's soo cute🤭🤗

omg same every time he hides his smile it hurts so much because he's just so beautiful and his smile is my fav ever i cried a couple of times seeing him hide his face🥺😣

omgg yess neck tickles are so bad on the sides if the neck like it's just unfairly ticklish🫠🫣

omg yesss thinking of lee Minnie who drapes himself over his ler of choice and just lets them run their fingers over his torso as he clutches onto their shoulders and giggles his pretty head off or vise versa, just drags them to the floor or sofa or bed and hugs them as they tickle him, no words, just the sweetest laughter🫠😖

gosh shy lee seungmin is my roman empire, he's so cute when he's shy, just hopping and hiding his eyes and so giggly and with a super teasy ler? he's bound to see stars🫣🤭 (you have flustered me so much with this it's insane😖💖) his feet are so sensitive too, ahh thinking about that one live where Lix got him there and just pulled his foot right back and the way he was smiling so sweetly? how can they ever stop?

holy shit i never even thought of subconscious cues!! ahh just thinking about everyone else knowing but Seungmin never figuring it out and no one tells him either and he gets wrecked so much more now esp when he accidentally scratches near that area when he gets itchy🤭🥺

treats after a good wrecking is soo rewarding and what if Minnie doesn't eat or drink particular snacks and drinks and keeps them reserved form after getting tickled?😖 that would earn him so much teasing from Minho or Han cuz they're SO smug about it🤭🫠

EEE puppy aftercare, he'll get all the head pats and tummy rubs his little heart desires!! I love Minnie so much omg i love you so much for this zizi

Thank you so much for these darling!! I had a lot of fun reading them🥺🫂🤗🩷💖💞

[im-not-batman]

Okay i am SO excited that people were interested so here it is. I need to preface this with the fact that it won't be totally 1-to-1.

9-1-1/The West Wing Fusion crossover AU thing

SO, i already said Bobby is the President. Not only does it make sense for his relationships with everyone else, but he is also very similar to Bartlett in a lot of ways: the Catholicism, the hidden illness (Jed's MS and Bobby's Alcoholism and PTSD), the strong moral compass and the way they are always everyone's go-to for advice. Also the way they deal with problems and conflict.

Athena is obviously FLOTUS. Unfortunately i suffer with Can't-Stand-Athena Disease, so i'm leaning on my love of Abbey for this one. But they're both very capable, intelligent women who can't be told what to do. Both are completely devoted to their families and are even self-destructive with that love sometimes. (Athena going after Amir (DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THAT - FUCKING ACAB) and Abby secretly treating Jed's MS and putting her lisence in question).

May and Harry should take on the roles of Zoey and Ellie respectively. May still being the older sibling, i just think they fit the personalities of the siblings better that way. Harry being distant and aloof until they have a breakthrough, May being close to the family and friendly with the other staffers. Also the Charlie/Zoey of it all.

Hen (my beloved) is Chief of Staff. This feels obvious. She's already Bobby's second in command, she's got the instict for it, and the respect of all the others. I also think she would still have a fire fighting background and she got into politics later. I just think that experience would be vital for her as COS, similar to Leo's military service. I also think a professional history like that would also commmand respect from strangers.

For Deputy Chief of Staff I'm (perhaps predictably) going with Eddie. I was toying with the idea of it being Chim but you'll see why i didn't got there when i explain his role. But yeah, Eddie's perfect for this one. Both he and Josh are dramatic about everything, they both have well-meaning hearts that sometimes results in them doing or saying stupid shit, they have deepseated issues that cause them to push people away. Also, need i say it? SHOOTING ARC! This also (again predictably i fear) allows for the EPIC ROMANCE of Josh and Donna to be mapped onto Buddie.

Which brings me of course to Buck. He's gotta be Donna. They've got the shared history of failed relationships with some not great people (but remain hopeless romantics anyway), Buck flitting from job to job and Donna not having much work experience go hand on hand too. Also they're both very capable and intelligent but hide it/don't realise that fully. I like to think that Maddie qas the one to get him his job amd Eddie was just a bit too scared to question her.

Now Maddie. This might be an unpopular decision because on the surface they are nothing alike, but I'm putting Maddie in Toby's spot. Not only does she suit Director of Communications perfectly – Maddie is the fucking QUEEN of coomunication (season 5 notwithstanding lol) but she and Toby share a lot of their values. Sure, Toby's a miserable, pessimistic asshole about it, but they both believe in a very black and white definition right and wrong. They are both loyal to a fault (even Toby's treason was an act of loyalty you can fight me on this but you will LOSE) and do everything they can to protect the people they love. Also i just love them both so much i want to fuse them into one because it makes me feel like a mad scientist in a lab trying to create the perfect character out of goo and slime and glitter.

Anyway! For Maddie's second, I'm really not sure. I was thinking maybe Linda or Josh but neither fit particularly well to me. Idk, let me know what you guys think.

Okay. Chim. Think how perfect he'd be as Press Sec. Please. That man is BORN to be on camera. He's charismatic and friendly and relatable, he comes across as approachable but fr who would cross him if he put his foot down? No one! Also. I IMPLORE you to please imagine him doing the Jackal. It was so hard to figure out who i'd trust to take up the mantel of CJ "baddest bitch around" Cregg because i love her so much but when i started to consider Chimney it felt obvious 😅 i also just think he'd love to have the opportunity to evicerate an asshole on live television, and he DESERVES that opportunity too. And if you were wondering: Yes I DO ship CJ and Toby. Hence Madney being their counterparts.

Now for my boy Charlie!!! It of course HAS to be Ravi!! Those boys are the sweetest loveliest boys on the planet! They pair up so well! I also have a headcanon that, similar to Charlie, Ravi has younger siblings he's always had to take care of because their mum died and their dad worked too much. So. Yeah. Also lowkey May x Ravi nation where are you please accept me into your ranks.

Anyway, i hope this is acceotable to everyone who was interested. I might write something in this AU one day but if you have ever interacted with me before you should know not to hold your breath lmao

Tagging @pangrams-n-palindromes from my other post so they see this, I hope that's okay!

[cyndaquillt]

Briefly taking a break from mourning the end of the 73rd Demon Realm to appreciate Sing-Shong's use of pov in storytelling. KDJ's 'death' somehow hit harder/different at the hands of the outer god when seen from Jung Heewon's perspective and I realized, that despite him dying multiple times so far and despite reading about his companions' pain during those times, I didn't feel a trauma of this level because I was still reading through KDJ's perspective. He always has a card up his sleeve and getting an in into his mind eases some tension for me as a reader. The third floor of the demon castle was particularly stressful because 1) it hadn't appeared in the TWSA that KDJ had read so we couldn't be so sure of what he was gonna do, 2) 'Fate' was built up to be this inevitable thing that despite believing KDJ would have something up his sleeve, it was mostly unknown as to what would happen when Fate gets realized. I felt a dread of the unknown and pain for the people KDJ was leaving behind.

With the Outer God moving in to devour the 73rd Realm and reading it through Jung Heewon's perspective, I genuinely felt trauma. Despite there being foreshadowing of what he would do, I was genuinely not sure if KDJ did have anything up his sleeve this time. And this strong, even footing that reading from KDJ's pov had provided me so far was turned into a bumpy ride in a just a few chapters with HSY's pov of her nightmares and LSY's fortune telling, Breaking the Sky Sword Saint and Kyrgios' pov of their inability as transcendents to deal with the Outer God, and finally, the nail in the coffin was JHW's pov that really conveyed the helplessness Kimcom feels every single time KDJ chooses to sacrifice himself alone. It's never 'Oh he's dying again, he'll probably come back. Get used to it'. It's experiencing the death of a dear friend right in front of your eyes again and again and again in excruciating ways. And each time you think, "I'll save him next time" or "I'll be there to die with him next time" or "I'll protect him so that he never has to do it again" and each time that chance is robbed from you as you helplessly watch him die and leave you behind. That trauma adds up and it scars, you never get used to it and JHW's pov conveys that impeccably.

Then we flip back to KDJ's perspective and Secretive Plotter asking him about all the worlds he couldn't save. And KDJ meeting 1863rd round YJH and recalling his middle school years and making notes in the back of his notebook about how he would change YJH's story if TWSA became real and then realizing 1863rd YJH would be hopeless. KDJ also helplessly watched/read/experienced as YJH died and lived countless lives. He didn't have the luxury of thinking "I'll save him next time" or "I'll be there to die with him next time" or "I'll protect him so that he never has to do it again" because YJH was a fictional character and a "Fourth Wall" (heh) does protect him from that level of excessive immersion as a reader. But now that TWSA is very very real KDJ can save him, protect him, die with him, etc. But in the course of it all, he makes his friends, including YJH, experience all the pain and trauma of seeing their friend die time and time again while he continues to save YJH the pain of countless deaths.

Really masterful sequences of pov switching to build this broader picture of KDJ's sacrifice and what it means.

[teyums]

Twin Flames pt. 2

pairing: Ao’nung -> Neteyam x fem!metkayina reader

contains: angst with underlying fluff, melancholy ending. ao’nung and reader are 19, neteyam is 20

a/n: here is the well awaited part 2! i pretty much wrapped it up with the ending. my apologies to the ao’nung girlies if i break your heart with this 😅 i hope y’all enjoy wc: 3,219

Twin Flames. A love so fierce among two souls it’d be impractical to think you could come out unscathed. And while you and Ao’nung were written in the stars— stars burn out and fate can be revised.

Love hurts, that’s the truth of it all. You sign away the rights to your heart when you blindly take that plunge into a realm of whirlwinded emotions, because the reward is always worth the risk.

Ao’nung could sit here and say moments blurred into days, days into weeks, and so on. But the statement would be a bold faced lie, a lie he would much rather have been living over what he was experiencing now, because absolutely nothing blurred together. It was all painfully, crystal clear.

Each day he endures your absence from his life stretches the full, dreaded twenty four hours. Every grueling hour, every painstaking minute, every enervating second leaves him mercilessly aware of just how badly he’s screwed things up with you.

And he stalks around the village like an idiot, misplaced and hopeless, looking in every nook and cranny you might have tucked yourself away in to no avail. It’s like you’ve completely disappeared into thin air. Either that, or you’re really good at avoiding him.

He’d seen you in glimpses, evanescent moments where he’s left thinking he must have imagined your face, because in the blink of an eye, you’re gone. Just as quickly as you come, you go, like the shells the sea leaves upon the shoreline, only to steal them back into the taunting waters that laugh at your failed attempt to rush and grab them before they’re lured back into the deep.

He recognizes now, just how extensive the consequences of his actions are. It’s when he stalks back to his Mauri, a slight stagger in his stride due to the longevity of the day’s training. His father took no interest in going easy on him, probably due to how distracted he seemed the entirety of the lesson.

The centers of targets went untouched by the point of his spear because it fell short every time he plunged it through the air. Hot sand enveloped the discarded tool in a blanket of gold when he chucked it down out of frustration and he’s so fucking tired of this.

In the midst of his exhaustion, his mind plays a cruel trick on him. Makes him think that he’s trudging all the way home to meet your bright smile and warm embrace, until reality hits him like a relentless, angered wave of accountability and almost has his knees buckling. Of course you’re not there, how foolish of him to think you’d forget about what he did and throw yourself right back into the crossfire of his confliction.

It’s pathetic. How he lays in his bed at night, alone, defeated, kept up with the never ceasing memory of how hard he made you cry that day. How he swore he could feel the shards of what once was the shell of your being scrape his skin as it slipped through his fingers and into nothingness before him. He desperately tried to hold onto them, tried to put your pieces back together, but you wouldn’t even let him do that. You scooped up the broken remnants of your heart and took them with you. Couldn’t you have let him keep just one?

He stares across his moonlit room at the shelf on his wall. Particularly at the disheveled accessory that sits atop it, mocking him in the way it’s gone unworn. Slightly misshapen from how tightly your hand had clenched around it, your indignation molded into the crumpled fabric. The gift haunts him, reminds him of the day he wishes he could take back but he can’t bring himself to get rid of it. It’s all he has left of you and your scent still lingers on the leather, though It’s fading, slowly.

He wonders how you’re doing, how you’re handling the whispers that float through the air of you being the latest victim of his immaturity. How he aches to comfort you, to tell you that you were so much more to him than another thoughtless mistake, more than a cheap rendezvous. It angers him, rocks his core with something fierce the way people talk about what happened like it’s their latest gossip. But who is he to blame but himself?

Any other time, or any other girl, rather, he would have been laughing right alongside the talebearers. Shrugging in a disgustingly nonchalant manner and blaming whatever poor soul he’d wronged for her own heartbreak because she knew what she was getting into when she got with him.

It’s why it hurts so bad. Because even while you managed to uproot a gentle side to him no one else had before, somehow he still found a way to hurt you, and even worse than the others at that.

How did he fuck up this badly?

_____

A month has passed and he wishes he would have lost count by now. Everyday without you is excruciating. He had no idea he could miss someone to this extent and it’s why he’s sat by himself on the shore, watching the waves crash against the waiting rocks, elbows resting upon his perched knees with his forearms hung limp between them. And like usual, his ears perk up at the sound of your name in a conversation that has nothing to do with him.

“So, Y/n, huh?” A voice chuckles.

He’s instantly on alert, all because your name rolls from a male’s tongue a little too freely. His spine straightens and his throat clears as he wills his body to remain calm at the simple mention of you.

“Yeah, man. I haven’t seen them together in a while, not sure what happened but I’m pretty sure it’s over. My rites are next week, and I’ll definitely pass. I’m thinking of asking her for her hand.”

Ao’nung nearly recoils and he’s up on his feet in seconds. The thought of you with someone else has his mind in a frenzy. Everything is a blur, the shouting of those around to witness is muted when his fist comes in contact with the poor na’vi’s nose and he’s hissing down at him in a fit of unrefined rage as if he even has the right.

“She’s spoken for.”

_____

Though his failed attempts proved to be fruitless— Ao’nung was somehow still confident enough, or maybe deep enough in denial to believe that eventually, you’d come around. That in due time, the memories of his mistake would trickle from your mind and you’d fall into him again.

But then, the tide changes.

Strange na’vi come swooping in on unfamiliar looking animals, drawing up a crowd of alarmed villagers with their arrival. Men shield their mates from the potential threat, and mothers scoop their children up off their feet and into protective arms while weapons are quickly gathered in preparation.

The screeches of the large birds split through the air and ring uncomfortably in Ao’nung’s ears, but still, he starts towards the direction of the disruption. The dark blue na’vi land on the wet sand of the shores, slender bodies lacking of weapons and hands outstretched to propose vulnerability, ensuring that they come in peace.

There’s six of them. The father, he assumes, the mother, a small girl who’s quickly gathered by her mother’s curt demand, a strange looking female who nervously cowers into her shawl behind them, and two boys.

Their tails are odd, lithe and silly in the way they swish back and forth with uncertainty. A tuft of hair decorates the ends and Ao’nung’s face crinkles in disapproval, but for some reason, you’re intrigued.

It’s the first time he’s really seen you in weeks. All of you, no longer hidden by your desire to avoid him. And somehow, you’re even more beautiful than when he’d last seen you, eyes beady, sparkling and round with interest and he prays you’ll look in his direction, but you don’t. You stand with the rest of the crowd, hands folded behind your back while you eye the strange looking newcomers and Eywa he just wants to hold you again. It’s hard to focus on the invasion of foreigners to his land, because all he can think about is you.

The younger one has already expressed interest and introduced himself to Tsireya with an upwards nod of his head, and she’s a giggling mess beside you, so Ao’nung assumes it must be the eldest brother you’re watching so intently. The armor he wears resembles his father’s, but there’s an obvious difference between their status as he quietly stands behind the man negotiating. Toruk Makto, he comes to find out, or what he calls himself—Jakesully.

Ao’nung isn’t even listening to the conversation his father is having right beside him, because you laugh and his ear turns in its direction, then his head follows. That sweet, sweet laugh. It should’ve melted his heart, like it always did, but instead it makes it freeze over and sends a chill prickling up his spine, because you’re not looking at him.

You couldn’t help your curiosity.

Contrary to Tsireya’s advice, you’d reached out and touched the fluff of the eldest brother’s tail, because everything about him was so different from you and you had a hard time believing he was real. His markings resembled stripes, yours waves. His hair neatly plaited, yours loose. He’s very, very composed, hands politely clasped together in front of him, head raised confidently but not arrogantly and you don’t know why, but you like that. His physique is lean, carved and sculpted to reveal tight muscles that of a warrior. He’s taller than Ao’nung, and much taller than you.

It made you giggle, how his tail seemed to be the most animated part of his dignified, soldier-like disposition, because it hurriedly curled around his small waist with a mind of its own and away from your gentle finger the moment you made contact. The Metkayina boy felt his stomach curdle and bubble with jealousy at your genuine infatuation with this stranger.

The eldest’s braids sway over his shoulders with the movement of his head whipping around, wooden beads clacking against each other while his intense, aureate eyes attempt to locate the culprit of the intrusion. They miss you completely and glance right over your head, but when his chin meets his chest to return his attention to the Olo’eyktans’ conversation, that’s when they find you, and take time to trail down your form. And they keep you, and don’t let you go for a long, spark-filled moment, your big blue eyes peering up into his amber ones that twinkle with newfound interest. You’re shorter than the girls he’s used to, your body plump and soft in the areas Omaticayan women are slender. The boy’s never seen someone quite like you before, that’s clear in the way his brow bone raises.

You looked apprehensive for a beat, smile faltering due to the searing, unintentionally intimidating gaze this man has on you while he examines your person, and Ao’nung’s foot moves to approach, ready to protect his long lost love from this bizarre na’vi— this intruder.

But then, the boy’s hardened mask crumbles, bioluminescent freckles emit a soft glow against dark blue, and he smiles at you, more than willing to look past your curiosity. Your cheeks flush amaranth when you return his grin, the same way they would when you used to look into his eyes.

It was in that moment, Ao’nung felt his heart split into four, as it’d already been severed in half long before this.

____

You make him feel welcome. Neteyam, that is. He occupies the early hours of your day, meets you at your Mauri every morning with a basket of your favorite fruits as a thank you for helping train him and his siblings, because he’s just not satisfied with being anything less than perfect. And it’s like you’ve completely forgotten about your past in the way you beam and pull him along the netted path by his hand, effervescent in the way you bounce along, insistent and thrilled to show him all the parts of your home— his new home.

And he trails behind you with the goofiest smile, because Neteyam would follow you anywhere. He made this known to you from the start and that was something you craved—the solidity of it all. Assurance. The security in something real.

He’s sweet to you, Ao’nung knows he is, because after just a month of these forest freaks living in the village, he notices unfamiliar trinkets begin to adorn your stature.

You now keep a few long braids in your hair, one on either side of your face, and two in the back, you’ve never done that before. You always claimed you liked your hair loose like the waves of the sea you loved so— untamed like the light of your spirit. But your undeniable pull to the man of the forest has you compromising.

There’s a stack of unfamiliar beads looped on the ends of each of them, and surely they’re not made with a material collected from the reef. They’re wooden and polished, embellished with painted markings he doesn’t recognize. You’ve never worn those before.

Ao’nung waits for this fling to pass. But then, the second month goes by, and then another, until he realizes that you’ve moved on. Of course you have. Why shouldn’t you? It’s not like you hadn’t found him cozied up with another girl, cooing the same promises he’d kissed onto your skin into the ear of another, as if he hadn’t been telling you for nights on end that he wanted to make you his mate. What a beautiful lie, and if only you’d known it was the truth.

You like Neteyam, because he’s gentle. He’s kind, and thoughtful, and cares for others more than he cares for himself. He makes you feel seen, and safe. Valued. You make him feel heard, and appreciated. Relaxed. Things the both of you have apparently lacked the majority of your young lives.

It’s easy with him, because you never have to worry about his eyes lingering elsewhere or his attention wandering. He’s so smitten with you and you’re so enamored with him, and it’s all so consuming that you don’t know what else to do other than rave about it from the cliff tops to prevent your heart from bursting with the premature promise of forever and scaring him off, little do you know he wants it more than you do.

Neteyam makes you feel whole, and gorgeous in all aspects of your being, not just beautiful because of what he sees on the outside. He’s in love with your soul, in a way you never thought a man could be, but only because you’d never been told.

You’re his only one, and in every breath he takes he makes sure this is known. He boasts about you to his parents and siblings and the friends he’s managed to make in the village whenever he gets the chance. And with slender fingers, he’s much more skilled at Ao’nung at this jewelry making thing, because damn near every week there’s a shiny new prospect of Neteyam’s love and appreciation strung around your neck in pretty beads and shells that have you squealing and jumping into his waiting arms as if he’s proposed.

It’s something you’d always told Ao’nung you wanted, a token of his appreciation in the form of something you could hold, something you could keep close to your heart for years to come. Something he never got around to doing because he insisted to himself that it’d push him off the deep end and into the tumultuous waters of loving you, unknown to the fact that he needed no one to help him do that but himself.

You feel like a princess everyday because Neteyam tells you that you are one. And he doesn’t just tell you, he treats you as such, too.

Sun kissed jewels from the high depths only a skilled climber can reach dress your wrist, like they were made for you. They match your eyes and you wear them like it’s your second skin because you almost cried when he gave them to you, paired with a confession of his love and Ao’nung wishes he’d thought of it first.

It makes him sick. All he hears around the grapevine is how you’ve never looked this happy. How you have an unmistakable glow to you, a pep in your step due to the golden boy who’s somehow won the hearts of the people in Awa’atlu in his short time here, just as he had done with his own people back home.

How a weightlessness clings to your answers when your friends ask how you and the forest boy are getting along, because it’s nothing less than a dream come true.

It’s a stupid question, the answer is so painfully obvious that it has Ao’nung wanting to rip his hair out.

Neteyam looks at you like you’ve hung the stars in his sky, like the sun rises in your irises though he knows the blazing star is much too hot to be the color blue. He holds onto you in public, proudly, without shame or fear that others might see, because he’s just so blessed to call you his.

He’d even passed his rites to cement that, the first out of his siblings to do so, and it’s no surprise that he chose one of the most extensive designs for his tattoo. You were right there, holding his hand as he sat through the entire session with no breaks, all to prove to you how strong of a warrior he was. Though the black ink etched along the side of his hip that stretches all the way down to his ankle is more than enough proof of that. And as if to rub seasalt into the wound, he’d even tamed Tsurak (Skimwing) on his first try, because he excels in everything he does, yet the man shows you off as if you’re his biggest accomplishment.

Because you are, and you should be. Ao’nung just hates that it isn’t him in his spot.

____

He shouldn’t have asked.

But you and Tsireya are close friends and he just wanted his mind to shut up with the endless scenarios it creates on loop when he’s trying to sleep at night. He just wanted to know if it was as serious as it looked, and his foolish heart really hoped it wasn’t. So every time Tsireya returned home from the daily training sessions with you and the other Sully’s, he was the first to meet her at the entrance, prying her for more information on you and the one who’d taken his place.

“Tell me,” He demands of his younger sister. It’s a look she’s never seen in his eyes before— desperation. “Does she love him?” He breathes, grasping on to the last bit of hope he has left.

She sighs, plucking her bicep from his soft hold with a gentle shake of her head. “Ask her yourself, Ao’nung. This is no longer my place, I will not get in the middle of your messes.”

“I can’t ask her, ‘Reya, you know that.” He pleads with her, “She won’t even look at me anymore. Please, just tell me.”

Her eyes meet his, looking between them and he can feel the disappointment radiating off her demeanor because she knows what he’s done. She knows you and Neteyam have plans to make your bond official, and she knows it’s far too late for her brother to fix things.

“Do you want her to be happy?”

Ao’nung hesitates at the question, but nods nonetheless. His answer is complicated, there’s layers to it. He wants you back, because he wants you to be happy, and you were always happy when you were with him. At least, you used to be, so maybe things could go back to the way they were if he tried hard enough.

But all hope dwindles like a candle snuffed with wet fingers when he hears the truth he’s been avoiding.

“Then let her go.”

part one

Likes + Reblogs + Comments are much appreciated! 💗

tag list based on the comments on part one ⬇️

@ako-gamboge @yaya6765 @yourusername1 @melllinaa @eitaababe

[lenaellsi]

What are your gomens s3 predictions for crowley?

WELL

I have three categories of predictions. I know where I would take the character, but the show surprises me so often that I don't expect to get it right. Just for fun, though, and under the cut because it got so fucking long:

1. He sleeps/binge drinks/otherwise disengages from the world straight through to the start of S3.

The Crowley of S2 is, in a lot of ways, more stable than the Crowley of the Crowley of S1, but I think he's also more depressed. His only purpose was survival from the moment he Fell to the moment he and Aziraphale quit their jobs, and now that he has to live, he's completely directionless. He doesn't understand (and has never understood) how he fits into the universe, how angels and demons generally fit into the universe, and what the point is if God can just wipe them all out for any reason. He doesn't believe in any part of the Good/Evil system. Aziraphale leaving--and confirming some of his greatest fears about the foundations of their relationship along the way--could be enough to send Crowley into an apathetic coma for a bit.

So I can see it happening, but my instinct says that's not where they'll go with it. Crowley tends to fall back on his escape methods only when he truly sees no other way out. In S1, he tried to drink himself to death only when Aziraphale was gone and, to his knowledge, there was no way to locate the Antichrist and even try to stop Armageddon. A few episodes before that, he proposed leaving only because Aziraphale hadn't shared Adam's location, and because Hell was actively hunting him. Once he learned where Adam was--once there was a sliver of a chance to save the world--he drove through Hellfire to do it. Crowley's not afraid to work through tough situations, he's just always aware of how fragile things are, and is prone to feeling angry and hopeless when he sees no path forward. And of course he is--it's his oldest wound, and his deepest, that he and everything he loves will always be at the whims of ineffability, and that there's nothing he can do about it.

But in S3, since he's not at the point where the destruction of the Earth seems inevitable yet:

2. Crowley will form his own plan to stop the Second Coming.

This is what I think will happen. Crowley loves Earth. He loves humanity. He was the one to talk Aziraphale into stopping Armageddon, the one to toast "to the world" at the end of S1. The planned destruction of the universe is the exact thing that caused him to Fall. Crowley is his own person outside of his relationship with Aziraphale, and that person has a long history of fighting and scheming and suffering for the sake of humanity.

He's also a very active character. He is consistently the one making plans, moving the plot forward, trying to enact change. He saw the schematics in Heaven, and I really do think he'll do his best to come up with a plan to stop them, even though he's understandably very upset.

I don't think it'll be a good plan. If I had to guess (without knowing any specifics of the plot) I think he'll either try to disrupt the delivery of Christ to Earth or try to cut Heaven and Hell off from Earth entirely. He has no allies, no support, and very little reason to be cautious in his approach, which leads me to why you probably sent this ask:

Option 3: As above, only this time the plan is either not something he plans to survive, or his own survival is not something he is particularly concerned about.

So the thing about Crowley is that I really don't think he has any substantial issues with self-loathing, or any active desire to do himself harm. He is a survivor; he values safety and contingency and isolation above most things. But he values three things more: 1) freedom of choice, 2) Earth, and 3) Aziraphale.

He's a very angry, very impulsive person, and he is dealing with a lot unresolved feelings on the issue of demons and angels existing in the universe at all, and he loves Aziraphale and the Earth so dearly that sometimes he doesn't think straight. He's reckless, he's pissed off, he's feeling hopeless, and, after their fight, he's also convinced that Aziraphale would probably be able to move on from losing him. (In his mind, 'Crowley' is not the person Aziraphale would mourn; he would mourn the dead angel he's been chasing since the Fall.) If a plan presents itself that would be dangerous to him, I think he would see no reason not to try it. If you've gotta go, go with style.

So, yeah. I don't think it's likely, for all sorts of reasons--this is a comedy show, a Bible parody, and the tone is always going to be a little lighter than the angstiest possible conclusion, final fifteen aside. But the self-sacrificial route is one I can see Crowley taking, and his inevitable survival and reunion with Aziraphale would have an aftermath that would be messy and painful and fascinating to watch. It would also have some obvious thematic resonance with Christ, a figure I assume they'll be exploring quite a bit in S3, so that would be kinda cool.

(Thoughts on the Duke of Hell theory, with a general warning it's not my favorite, so don't read if that'll upset you:)

Very much not for me, sorry. Crowley, for all he is a master of on-the-fly (ha) bullshitting, is not suited for playing politics. (Neither is Aziraphale, for what it's worth.) Crowley is too outspoken, too honorable, and too prone to fits of temper to have any patience for that kind of role. Besides that, he absolutely does not want it. He hates Hell just as much as he hates Heaven. I don't think he would ever go back to either of them, consequences be damned.

I also think that there's no practical way it could even happen? Beelzebub only offered him the role out of desperation to find Gabriel, and even then, it was almost certainly a lie. With Beelzebub gone, every single person in a position of power in Hell hates Crowley. And if they tried to dupe him into it the way the Metatron did, he'd run and not look back.

[nightcolorz]

you’re so right Mitski is so Armand i would listen to you explain this for hours but for now here are some songs I consider very armand

-Liquid Smooth (I'm liquid smooth, come touch me too, And feel my skin is plump and full of life, I'm in my prime) Just very armand feeling though his worth is directly linked to his beauty, but also feeling like he doesn’t own his own body because of this, feeling the need to have other people always validate this belief by wanting him for his body and his beauty

- I Don’t Smoke (So if you need to be mean, Be mean to me, I can take it and put it inside of me) Of course this is very armand and I know you know that from your fic title, and it does fit loumand particularly well in the books or in the show, its just very them

- Bug Like An Angel (When I'm bent over, wishin' it was over, Makin' all variety of vows I'll never keep, I try to remember the wrath of the devil, Was also given him by God) Not only the Angel symbolism that’s brought up so much with Armand, but this passage in particular is so heartbreakingly armand, in relation to both his religious beliefs and connections, and his sexual trauma

- Working for the Knife (I used to think I'd be done by twenty, Now at twenty-nine, the road ahead appears the same, Though maybe at thirty, I'll see a way to change) This song gives me very show!armand vibes as feel like the desperate hopeless of the song really fits with his own self sabotaging behaviours, it very much feels like a song about trapping yourself in a prison of your own making. Plus, the “working for the knife” is so Armand doing everything for things that will only destroy him. Also, the passage I chose is soo show Armand to me, with him being in his late 20s. Wishing he would have been “done” (dead) by 20 when he was Marius’ slave, to feeling in the same position at 27, though having been 27 for 500 years so he will never reach 30 and find a way to change. ;(

- Me and My Husband (And at least in this lifetime, We're sticking together, Me and my husband, We're sticking together) This song gives me very show loumand vibes, in the way that Armand knows it is built on lies and nothing, but still feeling that desperate need for companionship, sticking with Louis even if there is no love or if his love is not reciprocated.

- Your Best American Girl ( You're the sun, you've never seen the night, But you hear its song from the morning birds, Well, I'm not the moon, I'm not even a star) + (And you're an all-American boy, I guess I couldn't help trying to be your best American girl) I think this song fits very well with both Devil’s Minion (with Armand desperately wanting to learn about the modern world of America from Daniel) and Armandstat (with Lestat as a fledgling vampire showing himself off to the world, when Armand has been hiding himself in the cult for 300 years, but Armand’s darkness and knowledge and beliefs about vampirism not being enough for Lestat)

I could really keep going but some others i think are very armand include A Pearl, Goodbye My Danish Sweetheart, I Bet On Losing Dogs, Brand New City, Townie, and Washing Machine Heart

BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY THAT LITERALLY ALL THESE SONGS (sans townie and working for the knife, which bcus of u will now be included) ARE ON MY ARMAND PLAYLIST ‼️‼️‼️this is the best thing ever ughhhh ur so right ur explanations r perfect. My top Armand song of all time is brand new city loll thank u for shouting her out ‼️‼️ the other mitski songs that I heavily associate with Armand that u didn’t mention r Real men, first love/late spring, Eric, Abbey, Crack Baby, and Francis forever

[mari-lair]

yes i do! He is my favorite broadcasting club member!

He is so funny, I love his brand of humor, he gives me "I am a harem character in the wrong kind of manga" vibes!

He is also interesting at his core, there is a lot of contradiction to him: He seems to feel empathy and kindness in his heart, worrying for Mitsuba, sympathizing with Kou, trying to understand Sakura, and so on, but he is still on the 'bad guys side', he doesn't hide that his morality is grey and he isn't a very good person.

He is pretty blasé about the concept of death, he had no complains when Sakura was cursed students with Mei's flower petals as a distraction for him to break the clock, and his only reaction to stepping on a puddle of blood where he knew a 'cute girl' was eaten alive was "yuck!"

He wants to date Sakura. He seems to love her and be serious about her, confessing and flirting with her all the time, but despite coming of as a 'hopeless romantic and hopelessly devoted' guy he flirts with every girl he thinks is cute.

And is not empty flirting either, he would have been cool kissing Nene just because she is a cute girl.

Natsuhiko has no attachment to Nene beyond that, he and Sakura are only using her for their grand plan. They want her dead.

He is aware of what he is doing is considered evil, or so it seems, cause he call his schemes with Sakura evil with pride and joy.

Way too much joy, which disappears when he is alone.

His dissatisfaction about the 'I'll use my blood to melt the clock' plans seems to come mostly from how bleeding out drains him, and just... how gross blood is (he was disgusted when he stepped on Sumire's blood , and tsukasa killed the pufferfish so is not his acid blood in particular he finds gross) which is so cool for someone in the 'bad guys side' and whose reasons for being with Sakura are a mystery.

I also like how he doesn't want to look like a bad guy, like the aesthetic of it is the worst part, not how it may hurt others. The way he would destroy the world for Sakura's wish but when people do get hurt he doesn't look particularly pleased is also nice. Just... A lot of nice little things and contradictions to poke at.

He is not my priority right now, so I don't have insane spirals of thoughts about him, but he is overall a really fun character to theorize and analyze! On the few times I am in a Natsuhiko mood, it's always fun.