#ideas pret

[calicorobin]

i'm a girl in the way that i just wanna have fun

[jewishvitya]

A pro-Palestine Jew on tiktok asked those of us who were raised pro-Israel, what got us to change our minds on Palestine. I made a video to answer (with my voice, not my face), and a few people watched it and found some value in it. I'm putting this here too. I communicate through text better than voice.

So I feel repetitive for saying this at this point, but I grew up in the West Bank settlements. I wrote this post to give an example of the extent to which Palestinians are dehumanized there.

Where I live now, I meet Palestinians in day to day life. Israeli Arab citizens living their lives. In the West Bank, it was nothing like that. Over there, I only saw them through the electric fence, and the hostility between us and Palestinians was tangible.

When you're a child being brought into the situation, you don't experience the context, you don't experience the history, you don't know why they're hostile to you. You just feel "these people hate me, they don't want me to exist." And that bubble was my reality. So when I was taught in school that everything we did was in self defense, that our military is special and uniquely ethical because it's the only defensive military in the world - that made sense to me. It slotted neatly into the reality I knew.

One of the first things to burst the bubble for me was when I spoke to an old Israeli man and he was talking about his trauma from battle. I don't remember what he said, but it hit me wrong. It conflicted with the history as I understood it. So I was a bit desperate to make it make sense again, and I said, "But everything we did was in self defense, right?"

He kinda looked at me, couldn't understand at all why I was upset, and he went, "We destroyed whole villages. Of course we did. It was war, that's what you do."

And that casual "of course" stuck with me. I had to look into it more.

I couldn't look at more accurate history, and not at accounts by Palestinians, I was too primed against these sources to trust them. The community I grew up in had an anti-intellectual element to it where scholars weren't trusted about things like this.

So what really solidified this for me, was seeing Palestinian culture.

Because part of the story that Israel tells us to justify everything, is that Palestinians are not a distinct group of people, they're just Arabs. They belong to the nations around us. They insist on being here because they want to deny us a homeland. The Palestinian identity exists to hurt us. This, because the idea of displacing them and taking over their lands doesn't sound like stealing, if this was never theirs and they're only pretending because they want to deprive us.

But then foods, dances, clothing, embroidery, the Palestinian dialect. These things are history. They don't pop into existence just because you hate Jews and they're trying to move here. How gorgeous is the Palestinian thobe? How stunning is tatreez in general? And when I saw specific patterns belonging to different regions of Palestine?

All of these painted for me a rich shared life of a group of people, and countered the narrative that the Palestininian identity was fabricated to hurt us. It taught me that, whatever we call them, whatever they call themselves, they have a history in this land, they have a right to it, they have a connection to it that we can't override with our own.

I started having conversations with leftist friends. Confronting the fact that the borders of the occupied territories are arbitrary and every Israeli city was taken from them. In one of those conversations, I was encouraged to rethink how I imagine peace.

This also goes back to schooling. Because they drilled into us, we're the ones who want peace, they're the ones who keep fighting, they're just so dedicated to death and killing and they won't leave us alone.

In high school, we had a stadium event with a speaker who was telling us about a person who defected from Hamas, converted to Christianity and became a Shin Bet agent. Pretty sure you can read this in the book "Son of Hamas." A lot of my friends read the book, I didn't read it, I only know what I was told in that lecture. I guess they couldn't risk us missing out on the indoctrination if we chose not to read it.

One of the things they told us was how he thought, we've been fighting with them for so long, Israelis must have a culture around the glorification of violence. And he looked for that in music. He looked for songs about war. And for a while he just couldn't find any, but when he did, he translated it more fully, and he found out the song was about an end to wars. And this, according to the story as I was told it, was one of the things that convinced him. If you know know the current trending Israeli "war anthem," you know this flimsy reasoning doesn't work.

Back then, my friend encouraged me to think more critically about how we as Israelis envision peace, as the absence of resistance. And how self-centered it is. They can be suffering under our occupation, but as long as it doesn't reach us, that's called peace. So of course we want it and they don't.

Unless we're willing to work to change the situation entirely, our calls for peace are just "please stop fighting back against the harm we cause you."

In this video, Shlomo Yitzchak shares how he changed his mind. His story is much more interesting than mine, and he's much more eloquent telling it. He mentions how he was taught to fear Palestinians. An automatic thought, "If I go with you, you'll kill me." I was taught this too. I was taught that, if I'm in a taxi, I should be looking at the driver's name. And if that name is Arab, I should watch the road and the route he's taking, to be prepared in case he wants to take me somewhere to kill me. Just a random person trying to work. For years it stayed a habit, I'd automatically look at the driver's name. Even after knowing that I want to align myself with liberation, justice, and equality. It was a process of unlearning.

On October, not long after the current escalation of violence, I had to take a taxi again. A Jewish driver stopped and told me he'll take me, "so an Arab doesn't get you." Israeli Jews are so comfortable saying things like this to each other. My neighbors discussed a Palestinian employee, with one saying "We should tell him not to come anymore, that we want to hire a Jew." The second answered, "No, he'll say it's discrimination," like it would be so ridiculous of him. And the first just shrugged, "So we don't have to tell him why." They didn't go through with it, but they were so casual about this conversation.

In the Torah, we're told to treat those who are foreign to us well, because we know what it's like to be the foreigner. Fighting back against oppression is the natural human thing to do. We know it because we lived it. And as soon as I looked at things from this angle, it wasn't really a choice of what to support.

[usoppssketchbook]

This is kind of what I was talking about with that art I recently posted. Usopp’s fighting style since the timeskip leans heavily on the pop greens. They are powerful, and he can handle stronger enemies than he used to because of them, but at the same time they’ve become a crutch for him. The weapons are powerful, not him or the way he uses them. It seems like he’s become less inclined to use his head and skills to win, and more likely to charge into situations headfirst, the same way he used to criticize Luffy and Zoro for doing. In the case of Sugar and Trebol, this resulted in getting his ass beat and only winning on a fluke**. 

Usopp has the might of pop greens behind him now, but they're not what make him strong. In a fight, Usopp's greatest strengths have always been his quick thinking and creativity. I want him in a situation that takes all his tricks, cunning, and inventiveness to survive, a situation where he can't lean on just his plants or some powerful weapon like Kuro Kabuto to get things done. I know it's never gonna happen because using your brains strategy isn't how you become a Strong Honorable Man™ in One Piece, but I really want Usopp's character growth to be about accepting himself, and for that acceptance to include using his own kind of strength to win, not capitulating to One Piece’s worship of head on battle. I want him to come out the other side of that fight with the understanding that he doesn't need to be like Luffy or Zoro or the giants to be strong, that he doesn’t have to be like his dad, that he doesn’t have to jump into every situation guns blazing or live completely without fear to be a brave warrior. 

**credit where credit is due, he did follow this up with an epic shot and psychological warfare tactics, which I loved

Edit 11/27/2024: I would like to formally rescind my statement about the plants and Usopp’s way of fighting post time skip. I do miss his old weapons, and wish he would bring them out alongside the pop greens or show off his inventive genius, but the plants are resourceful and creative weapons in their own right. They are not a crutch, but another sign of Usopp’s ingenuity.

I think that when I wrote this post I was feeling especially frustrated with how little screen time Oda gives Usopp, and conflated it a bit with Oda’s tendency to have Nami use Thunderbolt Tempo over… literally any other attack.

usopp likes to tinker, and make things, and invent things that improve himself and his skills and the fact that about absolutely NONE of that shines through in his design, fighting style, or skills, is bullshit. usopp is tactical and smart and i would classify as the best guy to make a strategy in any situation and the fact that this trait of his seems to have been replaced with the plants thing is shit to me

the tactician aspect of usopp is what should have been delved into further, it is the character development that usopp needs to come to terms with, that he’ll never be strong like luffy or zoro but he will always win against them because he is smarter than them and more clever then they are, that maybe he won’t be a “man” in the way he feels his father was, but he’ll be strong of heart, morals, and skills

like the plants thing is cool but it’s also bullshit because it’s an entirely new trait rather then expanding on a pre established trait like the rest of the got to do during the timeskip.

[sematarygirls]

🍃 ⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ ─── getting high and making out with barry

   you huffed, making your way back to your bedroom as loud music pounded in your ears and practically shook the floor underneath your feet. you had tried to get your brother to turn it down at least a little, but he was drunk and probably high out of his mind—as he usually was when he threw these stupid parties—so your words had gotten you nowhere.

you should've known you wouldn't get a moment's peace when your parents announced their anniversary trip, leaving you and your brother in your big house on figure eight all alone for a week.

where your brother was always throwing or attending some big blowout, trying to impress his asshole friends and any girls that would look in his direction, you much preferred solitude. you liked spending your time in your room alone, bingewatching cheesy romcoms, gruesome horror movies, and any and all procedural dramas you could get your hands on.

even you could admit that it was a little pathetic, living life as a glorified recluse that had never even had her first kiss at the ripe age of eighteen, but sometimes, you preferred it that way. though, sometimes, when you were really getting into your own head, you found yourself lonely and craving adventure—not that you would ever go out and seek it.

"oh," a noise of surprise fell from your lips, your body reacting with a small jolt as you re-entered your room and saw a boy sporting a buzzcut, probably a few years older than you, smoking a joint on your bed.

The boy took a long drag, exhaling the smoke slowly as his deep brown eyes slowly raked over your figure, a smirk playing on his lips. "shiiiit, sorry," he laughed. "this your room?"

of course, it was just your luck that a handsome—and way totally stoned—boy would have stumbled into your bedroom during the five minutes you had abandoned it to go argue with your stupid brother.

"uh, yeah," you nodded, eyeing him warily as you hesitantly closed the door behind you to drown out the sounds of the party downstairs that had carried.

he hummed at your answer, nodding as he took another hit. "you mind if i hang out?" he asked casually, as if he wasn't a strange man in your bedroom, which you suddenly felt very uncomfortable in as you realized a man had never been in your room before. the room practically screamed lonely loser virgin with the way your stuffed animals were propped up on the pillows neatly.

"i guess not," you shrugged, your cheeks turning warm as you tore your eyes away from his piercing gaze, looking down at the fluffy pink carpet at your feet. you should have asked him to leave, but you didn't, instead allowing him to continue occupying your space.

he grinned, patting the space beside him on the bed. "come here," he beckoned, his voice low and smooth, almost hypnotic. "no need to be shy, princess. i don't bite...unless you're into that."

your teeth caught your lip, nibbling slightly as you considered his words. it probably wasn't the safest idea to sit next to a stranger on your bed with no one else around, but he seemed nice enough. either way, your body seemed to react before your brain could catch up and decide better of it, carrying you over to him and sitting on the edge of your bed beside him.

you looked over at him nervously, your fingers dancing over the stitching of your pink quilt, carefully plucking at it—a nasty habit you had that was slowly pulling the string out.

"you're so jumpy," he noted, his brown eyes following your movements with interest—his pupils dilated from the weed. "and quiet, like a little church mouse," he grinned, clearly teasing you as he took another drag and slowly blew the smoke into your direction. "you got a name, church mouse?"

you coughed a little, waving the smoke away as he blew it at you. his eyes bored into yours expectantly, willing you to give him an answer, and you did, quietly telling him your name.

he repeated your name slowly, letting it roll off his tongue, as if tasting it. "pretty name for a pretty girl," he said smoothly, his eyes never leaving yours as he shifted a bit closer, his thigh brushing against yours and making your breath hitch. "name's barry," he introduced himself.

you felt a little silly that something as small as eye contact and his leg brushing yours was having such a big effect on you, making your heart race in your chest as your eyes widened a fraction, but everything about this moment felt so surreal—like something straight out of those cheesy romcoms you loved so much.

he smirked, noticing your quickened breath and wide eyes, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. "relax, princess," he urged, offering the joint to you. "maybe some of this will help mellow your ass out."

"i don't smoke," you said, eyeing it warily. truthfully, you should've said 'i've never smoked' in the name of honesty. you'd be lying if you said you weren't atleast a little curious, but you'd always been too afraid.

"oh, come on," he coaxed, his tone softening as he held it out to you again. "just one hit. it'll help you chill out," he explained, seeming to know the exact right things to say as he patted your thigh comfortingly. "i promise it won't hurt you. i mean, it's not like i'm offering you meth or nothin'."

you bit the inside of your cheek nervously, contemplating his words. it wouldn't be so bad if you just did a little, right? besides, you couldn't live your whole life so sheltered and afraid. reluctantly, you reached out and took the joint between your fingers, your gaze darting apprehensively over to him.

"atta girl," he praised you, his voice low and encouraging as you guided the joint up to your lips. "inhale slowly," he instructed, his eyes locked onto your parted lips. you nodded, carefully placing it between your lips and sucking in. "hold it," he told you, licking his lips subconsciously as he watched you carefully. "there you go," he cooed, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your thigh as he watched your brows furrow in your attempts to hold the smoke in your lungs.

your inexperience was apparent when you exhaled, breaking out into a coughing fit that had your cheeks blazing with embarrassment.

he chuckled softly, rubbing your back as you coughed. "it's alright, princess, you did good," he reassured you, taking the joint back and taking a long drag himself before exhaling slowly, the smoke curling around his face. "you'll get the hang of it."

"thanks," you said softly, your stomach feeling all fluttery at how nice the boy was. you grinned after a beat of silence, feeling a little less shy and a lot more happy as your body buzzed, clearly affected by the small amount of drugs you'd ingested—it was just your luck that you were a total lightweight.

"see? i told you you'd mellow out," he said with a soft laugh, his arm wrapping loosely around your shoulders as he pulled you in a little closer to him.

"uh huh," you giggled softly, looking up at him. your eyes widened a fraction as you realized just how close your faces suddenly were, his warm breath fanning over your face as he smirked down at you.

he licked his lips slowly as he gazed down at you, his hand moving to gently cup your cheek. "you're pretty, you know that?" he murmured, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "real pretty."

"thanks," you breathed out, looking up at him. you'd never kissed anyone before, and in any other situation, the rational side of your brain would probably be screaming at you to pull away, but he was awfully pretty and the way he was staring at you had your heart skipping a beat.

"you gonna let me kiss you, princess?" he hummed, his gaze locked on your lips as his thumb gently pressed down on your bottom lip, making you part your lips slightly.

you stared up at him, as if you were in a trance. your mind was slightly foggy, and all you could focus on was his hands on your skin as you nodded. you really, really wanted him to kiss you.

his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, and then, ever so slowly, he leaned in. his hand slid from your cheek down to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he angled your head back gently. your eyes fluttered closed as his lips brushed against yours, so soft and warm. you leaned into him, letting him set the pace and following his lead as your hand curled into the fabric of his t-shirt.

he kissed you slowly, savoring the taste of your lips. his other hand slid down to the small of your back, pulling you closer as his tongue teased the seam of your lips, asking for entrance. you weren't quite sure what came over you, but you craved feeling more of him, tasting more of him, so you parted your lips, letting his tongue slip into your mouth and slot against yours.

he groaned lowly as your tongue tentatively slid against his own, deepening the kiss. his hand on your back slipped under the hem of your top, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin of your lower back. you hummed into his mouth, grip on his shirt tightening as you tried pulling him impossibly closer. the feeling of his warm hands on your bare skin had your head spinning.

when he finally pulled back, you were both breathing hard, and he smirked at your dazed expression. "we should stop," he murmured, his voice tight with barely-contained self control.

"right, yeah," you nodded, your body alight with desire, but as much as you wanted to, it probably wasn't in your best interest to lose your virginity to a man you'd just met. doing drugs and having your first kiss slash makeout session seemed like enough adventure for one day.

his heated gaze never left yours. "alright then," he said, his voice still rough. "we'll, uh, we'll finish this later, yeah?" he asked, his hand still resting on the small of your back.

you giggled at his phrasing, your stomach doing flips at the thought of seeing him again and the idea that he wanted to see you again too. "i'd like that," you smiled softly, nodding.

he grinned wolfishly, standing to his feet, your eyes following his movements closely as he headed to the door. "i'll see you around, princess," he winked, opening your bedroom door and allowing the sounds of the party going on downstairs—which had completely slipped your mind amidst everything that had just happened—to fill the room.

"yeah, see you around, barry," you nodded, your mind still reeling as you watched him leave and close the door behind him. a wide, stupid grin broke out on your face as you fell backwards on your bed, squealing excitedly to yourself.

[97keanu]

୨୧ request ୨୧ daddy dom jw! reader in a collar and leash! size kink!

𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒍𝒚...

CW/Tags: smut, pet play, leash and collar, s&m dynamics, age gap, p in v, oral f/m receiving, trust dynamics, john is a VERY good dom <3, inexperienced!reader (to bdsm), commanding and authoritive john, use of daddy/puppy/good girl etc, SIZE KINK, John is a firm but caring dom, filthy smut, john ofc does after care, emotional reader after sex, might be the dirtiest thing I’ve written tbh…

Words: 5.3k

The steady rhythm of John Wick's footsteps on his morning walk always woke you up before your alarm. Like clockwork, he'd pass your house at 6:15 a.m., his black-on-black attire and leash in hand as his dog trotted obediently beside him. It was routine. Comforting. A reminder that the man next door wasn’t your typical middle aged dad-type—he didn’t care to invite you to the latest neighborhood cookout, or wave enthusiastically as he mowed his lawn on Sunday mornings. No, he was painfully, infuriatingly disciplined, in all he did.

At first, you only noticed him in passing. The quiet but polite neighbor who always nodded in acknowledgment, even when your conversations were limited to small talk at the mailbox. But something about John lingered: his presence, his patience, the way he seemed to see through people without saying a word. That quiet power drew you in before you even realized it, pulling you closer until your innocent hellos morphed into stolen glances—and eventually, something far less innocent.

Now, as you stood in his kitchen, sipping coffee while the leash you’d asked for sat coiled neatly on the counter, your heart raced in a way you hadn’t felt in years. John leaned against the doorframe, his gaze as steady as ever, though the hint of a smirk tugged at his lips.

"You keep staring at that like you're second-guessing yourself," he said, voice low and deliberate. "Changed your mind?"

You shook your head, fingers brushing the leather. "Not exactly. Just... getting used to the idea."

"Good," he replied, stepping closer.

His shadow felt larger than life as he closed the space between you, the width of his chest splayed out over a black shirt, the cotton holding him close.

"Because I don’t do halfway. If this is what you want, you’ll give me everything. Understand?”

Your eyes don't know where to go, your legs shift, thighs squeezing nervously with a rush of fear and excitement. You've had fantasies about something like this sure, but you never really thought…

“Eyes up here, puppy…” his voice isn't asking for attention, it's commanding, authority ripe in his deep voice.

Your obedience was what drew him in. The way you looked up when told, eyes big and full of nothing less than the want to please, even the highest of demands.

“If you want to back out, simply shake your head no.” His eyes watched yours, letting silence fill the kitchen without any hint of awkwardness.

He waits, letting you decide for yourself before continuing. Your head remains glued in place, worried even the slightest of flinches may give away any second doubts, something that John may see and deem a reason to stop right here and now. Your eyes search his dark ones, and you watch his lips part once more, a deep breath inhaled there.

“Or, you can put on your collar like a good girl and we can get started.”

Each word makes your heart thump in your ears, excitement rushing into every cell of your body. Your fingers twitch, and your eyes flashback over to that tempting leather that calls to you. Somehow, you know if you go through with this, you will never really be the same, never able to go back to how you were, placating frat boys at your college and having mediocre sex with boys who never even cared if you enjoyed a second of it. No, if you do this, you’ll crave it for the rest of your life.

Your fingers lift, grazing across the dark marble counter until they reach smooth, black leather. A collar just for you, perfect for your pretty little neck, custom made with the finest materials John could find for you. Your mouth parts, and a shaky, but excited breath leaves you as you bring the collar up to your neck.

“That’s a my girl…” John sets his coffee on the counter, walking behind you and brushing your hair to the side.

You feel his large, warm hands touch the nape of your neck, electricity passing between the two of you, unspoken tension building between your legs as he finishes the buckle back there. He tightens it just enough to be snug, but no more. He lets your hair drop once more, then lets his hands encapsulate your shoulders, their firm roughness bringing heat to your skin.

“Let’s begin.”

꩜ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ✩ ୨୧˚

John had guided you—no, commanded you—into the living room, his hand firm but not forceful at the base of your neck as you followed his lead. The leash connected to your collar trailed in his other hand, the soft clink of the chain with each step grounding you. Your skin prickles, hyper aware of every move he makes, a wolf circling its prey before going in for the kill.

“Good,” he murmured, the single word full of approval as he turned you to face him, your heart blooming at the idea of pleasing him. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, roamed over you with an intensity that made your knees weak. “You’re already learning.”

You tried to swallow the knot in your throat, but his presence made it impossible. John Wick wasn’t the kind of man to rush anything—he took his time, measured and deliberate, savoring every reaction you gave him.

“Sit,” he instructed, gesturing to the plush ottoman in the center of the room. His voice was calm, as if you’d done this a hundred times before, and the weight of it settled over you like a blanket.

When you hesitated, his lips curved into a faint smile—not playful, but knowing. “Second-guessing yourself again?”

You shook your head quickly, not wanting to displease or seem childish in front of him, sitting as instructed. The moment you obeyed, his long fingers hooked under your chin, his large hand tilting your face upward so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. Those dark eyes pierce right into the very depths of your being as his soft lips move.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make the air between you feel electric. “Now, let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”

John continues circling you slowly, his footsteps deliberate, each one echoing softly in the quiet room. You felt his presence like a heavy shadow, his gaze burning into you even when he wasn’t directly in front of you.

“Do you know why I like this?” he asked, his voice calm, almost conversational.

The question makes you pause.

You hadn't considered it. You were used to men using you for your body, for their own pleasure, disregarding yours entirely. You figured it was any mans dream to have a sweet, supple young woman such as yourself, collared and begging to please their every whim. You briefly open your soft, glossy lips to reflect.

John stops behind you, his hand brushing lightly against the leash before pulling it taut—not enough to restrict, just enough to remind you it was there.

You shook your head, words failing you under the weight of his scrutiny.

“It’s not just the control,” he continued, his voice low, steady, and far too composed. “It’s the trust. The way you give yourself over to me without hesitation.”

His fingers trailed along your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine.

“It means you believe I’ll take care of you... even when I push you.”

You inhaled sharply, the meaning in his words sinking in.

“But trust,” he said, moving to stand in front of you again, “isn’t just given. It’s earned. And right now, you’re going to show me exactly how much you trust me.”

He crouched slightly, bringing himself to eye level with you, his sleek suit pants tight against his thighs, his expression unreadable yet entirely commanding. His hand tilted your chin up again, his thumb brushing along the line of your jaw.

“Speak,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Do you trust me?”

You breathe, looking at the man before you, at his imposing presence and how easy it would be for him to take advantage of you at any moment. How you could just be another silly, young girl he's lured into his trap.

But your mouth says otherwise.

“Yes,” you whispered, the word barely audible, but it was enough to make his lips curl into that faint, knowing smile again.

“Good,” he said, his approval like a reward in itself. “Then you’ll listen. You’ll follow. You’ll let me guide you.”

He tugged gently on the leash, urging you to stand. The movement was unhurried, meticulous, as if he wanted you to feel every second of his control.

As you rose to your feet, his free hand pressed against the small of your back, steadying you. The simple act sent a jolt of awareness through your body, reminding you that while he held all the power in this moment, it wasn’t about domination—it was about connection. About trust.

“You’re doing well,” he said softly, his fingers brushing the leather of your collar before settling back on the leash. “But we’re just getting started.”

His hands gently leave you, and he steps away once more, eyes flickering across every inch of your body, taking you in.

“Strip.” he commands, his voice unyielding in authority.

You hesitate. You had never felt so subconscious of yourself as you did in this moment. It's not like you hadn't been seen naked before, but that was always hurried, dark dorm rooms and drunken kisses taking up most of your awareness. You had never been inspected the way John's dark eyes were watching you now.

His eyebrow flicks up for a moment, and you hesitate no longer, hands going up under your short black mini skirt to begin pulling down your stockings, the way you usually get undressed at home, without much care for the act.

John's hand gives the leash a tug as he speaks.

“Slower. Start at the top.”

You freeze, your mind overwhelmed by the scrutiny, but your need to please take over.

You straighten, eyes flicking from John to the floor and back again over and over as you slowly begin to unbutton your pale pink blouse. You think about it, taking a breath and releasing it slowly to calm yourself from all the attention, hands steadying and making sure to be intentional, calculated in their strokes.

You had never had to be sexy in front of someone like this, a worry forming in your brow and your excessive fluttering lashes as you wonder if you're accomplishing the job. John's eyes give nothing away, his gaze steady, as if testing just exactly how you will react to such stimuli.

You shrug your shoulders as your blouse begins to gently glide off, falling down to your elbows and exposing your pretty pink bra beneath, complete with lace and bows. You wonder if you seem too inexperienced, too girlish, a waif who knows nothing of this dominant world that John is so clearly a part of.

As your first article of clothing falls to the floor, John gives the slightest of approving nods, and nothing more, eyes hungry to see just what else you will do.

Your hands reach behind your back to unbutton your bra, but you see John give a shake of his head, and your hands fall anxiously onto your thighs.

Right, right. Slow. Sexy. Deliberate.

You instead do something bold. Turning around, one step after another, a click of a heel then the other. Your manicured hands come under the waistband of your cream mini skirt, slowly but surely shimming the soft fabric down. You feel the bare parts of your ass tingle against the chill of the room, matching lacy panties snug against your skin, white stockings sheer in the light.

You can't see his face, and for a moment you wonder if you've killed the mood entirely until you hear him release a breath.

“Good.”

This one's softer than the others.

Your skirt pools at your ankles, and you slowly step one foot out, the other kicking the fabric away.

You take a moment, your back still to him, and you let your eyes close as you compose the butterflies fluttering deep in your stomach.

Your hands reach once more behind you, your bra seemingly the next logical clothing item to go.

You didn't realize John had come so close behind you, a frightened gasp slipping from your pink, pouty lips as his hands circle around both your wrists.

“Let me savor you.” His voice drips with want, his nose and mouth pressed against the back of your head, taking your scent in.

As he breathes you in, you feel your body press into his, his warmth, his tight suit, his hard cock pressed against your ass.

A moan escapes you as his hands come to your waist, touching the exposed skin of your midriff, goosebumps left in the wake of his lingering fingertips.

“John…” You breath out, and you feel a hand take the leather of your leash once more, a firm tug to let you know your place.

“You may call me master, sir, whatever signature of authority you choose, but never John.” He whispers it into your ear, his breath tickling you and his serious tone sending shivers all the way down your spine.

You mull this over, your lips curling into a smile as you finally land on the right one.

“Daddy…” you breathe out, a bit nervous to use it out loud for the first time, but knowing you’ve been thinking it ever since you laid eyes on John.

John chuckles in your hair softly, and you can feel his lips smile against you.

“Daddy it is…” he softly agrees, then pauses before letting out a long breath.

His heat moves away from your back, his hand moving around your neck gently as he comes to face you from the front. His eyes search yours deeply for a moment before speaking.

John’s thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle against your collarbone, the silence stretching between you like a live wire. His gaze softened, just for a moment, a rare glimpse of something gentler beneath his steady exterior.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, a quiet reassurance that sent warmth blooming in your chest. “But we’re not done yet.”

The leash in his hand shifted slightly, the chain catching the light as he gave the slightest tug. The motion drew your attention—and your body—closer to him.

“Kneel,” he said, his tone calm but leaving no room for question.

You blinked up at him, the weight of the command settling over you. His hand moved to cradle your cheek, his touch firm yet tender.

“No hesitation,” he reminded you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Show me you’re ready for this.”

The steady authority in his voice made it impossible to resist, and you sank to your knees without a second thought, the floor cold even through your stockings. As soon as you did, John let out a satisfied hum, the corner of his mouth lifting in approval.

“Perfect,” he said, tilting your chin upward again, his fingers brushing your skin like a promise. “Now, keep your eyes on me.”

Your big eyes gaze up at him, lashes fluttering with the slightest hint of confusion before reminding yourself that you need to put your trust in him. Your heart races in your throat as his size-able hands reach down to his belt, the cold sound of metal clinking against itself and leather ruffling through fabric echoes through the room as he slowly slips his belt off. You gaze in wonder for what is to come next, your mouth opening as if to ask then closing again as you remind yourself of your position here.

John wraps the belt around one arm, leaving it there. With the other he holds your leash, his dark eyes bore into yours.

“Take my cock out.” He instructs, and your immediate reaction is to flush, a heat rising in your cheeks hotter than it ever has.

You feel like a fish gasping for air on dry land as the command washes over you. You blink a few times before the tug of your collar grounds you back into reality, and you look to where you can see the massive outline of John's cock showing against his black suit pants, tight and ready to be released.

You look back up into his eyes, and without another word, your hands begin fumbling with the button and zipper, your big doe eyes searching his for that much needed approval.

“Y-yes…” You whisper, barely audible to keep yourself going, and you feel John's hand tighten its grip on your leash.

“Yes, what?” He raises an arched dark brow, his expectations in his eyes.

“Yes, Daddy…” You fumble a few times more with the zipper as the words drip from your mouth, sweet as honey.

“That’s a good girl…”

As the zipper comes to it's final resting place at the base of John's cock, you press beneath the waistband of his underwear, almost struggling to get a cock of his size out from such a cramped space.

Heat radiates from there, your hand almost refusing to wrap all the way around his shaft as it pops out in front of your face, dangling there with all its girth and surprising length.

Oh god…

You wonder how you will anything that size anywhere inside of you, and your pussy aches as you think of it filling you all the way to the brim. You feel your mouth water as you look back up at John from his cock, your eyebrows pressed together in worry and lust.

“Alright, puppy,” John sighs out, a smirk curled on his lips at your reaction. “Let’s see just how much your mouth can take…”

You gulp back fear, and look back at his cock, two hands coming up to grip it from both sides. You breathe out slow, and you consider all the other cocks you've taken before, but none have even compared to the one before you.

You bring your mouth to his tip, pressing it against the flat of your tongue, taking a few long licks and savoring his taste. Your eyes meet his, hoping desperately you're being a good girl as you move to take more and more of him into your mouth. He fills every inch, and soon enough, you've barely got half of his cock in your mouth before he's reached the back of your throat. A slight sense of panic starts to wash over you as you consider the very real possibility that you won't be able to get all the way to the base of his cock, and you squirm as you try to readjust in a way that might.

“Take your time,” John whispers while letting a hand come to rest on the back of your head, his fingers gently petting your hair there. You can't help but moan into his cock, the feeling of being treated as such making you wetter by the minute.

You work his shaft with your hands, trying your best to get him down the back of your throat over and over as you begin to pick up speed. You notice that certain things you're doing right now illicit a moan from John, like swirling your tongue or twisting your hands just right, and you almost whimper into his cock as you realize what a good girl you're being.

“That’s right puppy, take as much as you can…” John's hand begins to apply pressure to the back of your head, slowly but surely forcing you deeper and deeper onto his cock until you're practically choking on it.

Your whimpers get cut off by his huge cock filling up your throat, and your toes curl beneath you as your knees begin to scream against the hardwood floors. You squeeze your eyes closed tight, trying your hardest to not let any discomfort come between you and being a good puppy.

Your nose begins to hit against his lower stomach, your mouth filled with spit that has no where to go, your pretty little throat tight around his cock. John’s hips buck into your mouth, controlled thrusts forcing himself deeper until you don't think you can take anymore, until the breath in your lungs swells up from being cut off so often, and your moans are silenced by John’s hand working your head into his cock and keeping it there for way too long. You squirm, your weight shifting in your thighs and your cunt dripping with want, your eyes beginning to water and looking up at him with the most pleading, desperate look.

John grips your hair one last time and pulls the entirety of his cock out of you, your breath suddenly rushing back in, a few coughs and a trail of spit from you to him as well.

John’s breath seems to be stolen for a moment as well, his hand rubbing your head with respect and admiration for your job well done.

“God…” He catches his breath, looking down at you with thinly veiled awe. “You’ve been such a brave girl for me, taking all that cock.”

You have no idea what you look like staring up at him from the floor, your make up beginning to slide down your cheeks from the tears that welled up, but you imagine you're beaming at him. Hearing him say that has you in a daze of euphoria, and you nod along, his hand coming from your head to cup your face softly.

“Does a good pet like you deserve a treat?” He smiles gently as you nod into his hand, your eyes closing from working so hard.

He leans down and gently lifts you from the floor, picking you up effortlessly, as if your weight meant nothing to him. You watch his strong arms tense under his shirt, and you practically swoon.

He takes you over to a nearby chair, laying you in it softly and beginning to kneel now himself, positioned between your legs. You look down at him, lids half closed and still out of it from the throat fucking you just took, watching as his hands take in your legs, rubbing all the way up to between your thighs and grabbing your stockings there.

Before you can question just what he's doing, John’s strong hands grip the white see through material there and tear, a startling rip making you jump for a moment and hold your breath. Before you can react to John ruining your pair of stockings, he slides your pretty pink panties to the side to expose your glistening cunt, and your legs tremble for a moment, considering closing in embarrassment before his hands firmly open you back up.

“Don’t you dare try to hide such a pretty pussy from me ever again.” He looks up at you with hunger and adoration. “Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy…” You nod eagerly, body tense with want and waiting for what comes next.

He watches you for a moment, making sure you really understand, before diving in.

You gasp as his mouth refuses to hesitate, refuses to let you acclimate to the warmth of this tongue and the softness of his lips. Instead, he devours you, sucking on your clit until it stands to attention, aching and wanting more. He laps at your juicy cunt with relish, savoring how good you taste on his tongue, his fast and short breaths tickling every part of you down there. Your hands clutch the arms of the leather chair, your legs up over his shoulders and your heels clacking behind his head as he bobs up and down on your pussy, licking every inch of you he can.

“Fuck,” You moan out as you feel yourself shaking at his every touch, your heart beating out of your chest.

With the hand that’s not keeping your panties out of the way, he lets two fingers soak up your wetness before slowly making their way inside of you. He refocuses his mouth on your clit, his fingers twisting and testing just how well you adjust. You cry out, trying not to curse so much but you can’t help yourself. It’s as if your body has been possessed with lust and ignited by John Wick’s tongue.

”Oh god, John, I think I’m going to cum!” You feel that familiar tightness in your lower stomach begin to build, your thighs tensing and attempting to close in on John’s head.

“You better not, puppy!” John pulls off of your clit, mouth soaked and shiny from your wetness, his hands moving to opening you nice and wide as well as giving your collar a firm tug to bring you off of the edge.

You practically yelp from the sudden difference, your chest heaving, your eyes unfocused and confused from being stolen away from such a beautiful wave of pleasure.

“Not until I get my thick cock inside that tight cunt of yours.” John warns, moving to line his throbbing cock up with your entrance.

You gulp back fear as he taps his cock against your cunt, the heaviness of it bouncing off of you as you shudder.

“Now, are you going to be a good puppy who waits to cum until Daddy tells her too?” His tone makes you remember your place in all of this, makes you remember that you have no say in when you derive your pleasure.

All you can do is nod, wide doe eyes looking from his to his cock with wanton want.

“I need to hear you say it.” He growls as he rubs himself against you, his length evident as he does so and beginning to make your stomach squirm in worry.

“Y-yes…” You breathe out, forgetting the rules as you focus on just how much cock you will soon be taking.

“Yes, what?” John growls as he lets the tip of his cock play with the idea of entering you.

“Yes,” You take a deep breath, bracing for what he’s about to do. “Daddy…”

John’s hips snap back, the forward, slamming the entirety of his cock into you in one swift blow. You have never felt such a rush of pleasure and pain at the same time, a guttural cry escaping your mouth and your hands leaving marks in his expensive leather chair.

“Oh, John…” You cry out as he thrusts into you, his want taking over, his need beginning to spiral out of control.

“What was that?” He mocks the use of his real name with harder thrusts, his breath coming quicker and heavier as the seconds pass.

“D-ad-dy-“ You moan out, the word cut off by each powerful thrust, the movement taking over the whole of your body.

“That’s it darling,” He closes his eyes, getting lost in just how tight you feel around his cock, just how warm it is inside you. “Touch yourself like a good girl, now.”

You do as he instructs, the feeling of your fingers circling your throbbing clit taking away some of the edge of the pain of his massive cock, and you bite into your lip to try to stop from cumming right then and there.

You have to be a good girl for him, you have to do what Daddy says and wait for him to tell you to cum.

You never thought you would see John lose such control, lose himself inside of you and let go of such rigid mannerisms. His long hair falls into his face, a slight gleam of sweat building up on his shoulders as he puts all he can into fucking the absolute shit out of you, using up every inch of you he can, pressing himself so deep inside you, you don’t think you’ll ever be the same again.

You play with your clit intermittently, having to stop now and then to keep yourself from falling over the edge and cumming right then and there. It’s pure torture, you can barely keep up with it all.

John’s muscles tighten, and you can see he’s getting closer. You hear soft moans coming from him, held back by only the slightest bit of control he has left. As his cock swells inside you, the raw feeling of him sliding in and out overwhelms your senses. You feel as if you’ve never been this full before, never been fucked as deep as you have now, and you know that nothing else will compare ever again. Your moans become incoherent, hands gripping for anything they can get a hold of, legs wrapped around John’s waist as he pulls himself in deeper, deeper, deeper…

”Please Daddy…” You whisper out, barely able to form the words. “Can I please cum?”

John groans, his teeth gritting, and nods.

“Yes, babygirl…” He huffs.

You take no time waiting, your fingers dashing around your clit in mad circles as he continues filling you up over and over again, hitting just the right spots inside you effortlessly. You feel yourself tense more than ever, your legs clamping down around his waist, your pussy tighter than ever around his thick cock. John lets the last bit of control he has go as your cum around his cock, your cunt fluttering and throbbing, leaving him no choice but to spill the biggest load of cum inside you you’ve ever had. He moans out, unable to keep himself from doing as such, his breaths shaky and his hips rocking out the last few bits of pleasure that they can. You ride his wave, bucking with him and taking everything you can like the good puppy you are. John practically collapses into you, the arms of the chair keeping his full weight from weighing down on you.

He leaves his cock inside you, letting it throb out any final bits of cum for the moment, his face close to yours, your breath intertwining with his. Both of your eyes are closed, but his mouth finds yours with ease, those soft lips of his tiredly taking soft kisses and whimpers from you.

Finally, when he has the strength, John Wick stands, slowly pulling out of you, his hot cum leaking out of your abused hole. He pushes his mess of long, dark locks out of his face, then looks down at you with half open eyes, before leaning down to scoop you up. He takes you to a larger couch, where you can both sprawl out more, collapsing into it with you in his arms.

He says nothing for a moment, the sounds of his breath and heartbeat beneath your cheek as you try to catch your own, completely out of it by now.

You feel his big hand begin petting your sweaty hair, stroking it with softest, most admiring touches. Your ears ring as you come down from it all, and eventually you make a sound that isn’t his heart or his breath.

“You did such a good job…” He breathes out in tired, half mumbles. ”I’m so proud of you…”

Your heart swells, and the exhilaration and emotion gets to you, tears welling up in your eyes. You dip your head into the crook of his chest and arm, hiding your face as to not embarrass yourself from crying after sex.

“Oh, come here, darling.” John purrs, pulling you closer, gently rubbing your back as you let it all out.

“You’re safe,” He whispers to you. “I got you, you’re safe right here, baby.”

He purrs sweet compliments and assures your safety over and over, gently kissing the top of your head. You let the emotions come and pass into pure bliss, and eventually, to the sound of his soft cooing words, you fall asleep in John Wick’s arms.

[madkiska]

watching the entirety of jrwi: riptide again. here's some important things from the first few episodes that I feel we forgot (<110 mentions too though)

Jay

Had night terrors similar to those of Kubakinta's curse in episode 5, and they eventually start returning even after Loffinlot's curse is lifted ○ All of them were about her family and/or the navy ○ I simply think people leave her out of the nightmare stuff and she deserves it. Hurt her more, please (he said, lovingly)

was actually very upset at having to use her medal to get a Loffinlot rebellion to shut up ○ This could be because she didn't want them to guess she was a spy, but I choose to believe it's because she felt guilty

"If you're gonna be sailing with someone, you should have a good relationship with them. [nervous chuckle]." She says, while asking him for information about the Black Rose Pirates (ep. 10)

Said "thank god they didn't find me" after a nightmare about the navy attacking. Even when she was supposedly a spy, who one day would have to return to the navy ○ Very unclear if she was scared of her dad, or if it's because she was a secret spy so the navy would've just killed her

Rewatching, she was suspiciously into the plundering and gold and stuff. Like that was real sus. It doesn't fit her current character much

The only one among them who's gambled before

Chip

The entire thing literally starts off with Bizly holding a lit match

Called Gillion "Gill" and Jay "Sureshot" from an early stage

Was SO much more of a bastard. Lied to Gill constantly, didn't care about anything but the money, etc.

Had aggressive hand tremors alongside Jay's night terrors ○ Gill cures it with lay on hands

When he gets drunk married, they talk extensively about how he'd be released when he's dead. Welp.

They did actually break up and it was fine and they were still friends. They parted on good terms

Is really fucking good at chess ○ Beat Earl twice and Jay once. Jay had a point of exhaustion after a nightmare but Earl had no excuse ○ Lost to Gillion though, but only cause of prophetic screwup ○ This kid is smarter than he lets on, y'all

Was the first one to have a backstory dump while Jay is asking him about the Black Rose Pirates, yet still we know jack shit about his life before them other than "orphan"

Gill

Charlie has referred to Gillion with 'they' many times. I can pull receipts.

When describing Gill, Charlie said: "He's more.. elven, if you had to make a comparison. 'Cause I don't wanna be a fish guy". Oh, honey.

Smote a bald person by using his hair as a whip (ep. 4)

Was given anxiety and self-doubt alongside jay's night terrors and chip's tremors ○ "What do you want?" "I want the feeling of satisfaction I've been chasing my whole life." ○ This was episode FIVE.

First mention of the prophecy and how Gillion wasn't their ideal student is ep. 7, after he divine smites + prophetic screwups and deals like 60 damage to some beetles ○ Chip spends the next 30 seconds in gay awe

He refers to the crescent moon Niklaus tattoo as "my zodiac" (probably a bit) ○ It's not a lil basic white girl moon this thing is the entire size of his forearm

Gill had never heard about the Black Sea - it's unclear if the Undersea just don't know, or if that's just how sheltered he was (ep. 10)

Biz: "What would Gillion do. If he just had no goal - was just sitting there." "Gillion always has a goal." "Would his goal ever be to just.. Sit there?" "Absolutely not." ○ Later, Chip expresses that he doesn't know what Gillion likes. What he would want out of winning a bet. Gillion doesn't have an answer

Other

Apple, in a couple of early battles, acted like Gill's familiar (see: ep. 7)

They also pecked at his Niklaus tramp stamp and looked all confused at the idea of eating seeds

The specific crescent of the moon in the Niklaus tattoo is known as a symbol of "corruption" (ep. 9) and its antonym is the sun, for "life", similar to the yin and yang ○ Interesting to consider after what the tree said in 110 <_<

Pretzel has a masters degree in couple's therapy (ep. 10)

The Albatross/Millennium Chipper was described as the colour of rosewood or mahogany

Captain Lizzie's first introduction was a wanted poster, and Chip wanted to turn her in for the prize, then decided to try learn from her instead

Chip/Bizly called Old Man Earl "Erol" for a loooong time ○ Maybe it's an accent thing but I have an uncle called Erol and so this stands out to me

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → soulmate AU, angst, sadness, fluff

Summary → Peter reconnects with his rejected soulmate, rekindling hope and love.

(gif not mine)

Peter Benjamin Parker, a sophomore at Empire State University, was a lonely soul. Even after spending a year here, he hadn’t made any friends, nor did he want to. The risks were too high, and he couldn't bear the thought of someone else getting hurt because of him.

In a world where almost everyone had a soulmate, Peter was an anomaly. Yes, he had a soulmate too, but the very thought of her made him uncomfortable. The idea of soulmates had lost its charm after Uncle Ben’s death. He had witnessed Aunt May’s slow descent into grief as her soulmate tattoo faded, a painful reminder of the love she had lost.

Peter had met his soulmate just two months after Uncle Ben's death. But grief-stricken and lost, he wasn’t ready for a connection like that. He rejected her without a second thought, without even sparing a glance. She was heartbroken. Unlike Peter, she had always loved the idea of soulmates. The pain of his rejection was unbearable, and she moved away from Midtown High during their sophomore year, thanks to her dad’s job transfer. It was a bittersweet relief—seeing Peter at school, knowing they were meant to be together but couldn’t be, had been too much to bear.

Peter felt guilty after she left, but his apology was never voiced. Over time, with the weight of being Spider-Man and the pressures of his studies, he gradually forgot about her. He dated MJ in their senior year, then came the supervillain chaos, Doctor Strange’s spell, and the aftermath of it all. And now, he was alone.

That night, after an exhausting patrol, all Peter wanted was to collapse into the cramped studio apartment he called home and fall asleep. But as soon as his head hit the pillow, the word "soulmate" and your face unexpectedly floated into his mind. It was strange, after so many years. He drifted off with thoughts of you lingering.

The next day, Peter went to the university as usual, walking absentmindedly through the crowded hallways. That’s when he saw you. Never in his dreams he thought he would see you again, but here you are. You were standing at a corner with three of your friends, laughing and chatting. His breath caught in his throat. You looked the same yet different. Still the same height—Peter had always loved the idea of having a shorter lover. You still wore glasses, but now you looked more mature, more beautiful. A wave of regret and longing washed over him. He hoped, against all odds, that you had forgotten your first interaction. He wanted, no, needed a fresh start.

Without knowing why, Peter found himself walking toward you, his eyes locked on your face in awe. When you and your friends noticed him, you asked with a small smile, "Can I help you?"

"Um—I…" Peter stammered, lost in the moment.

"Are you okay?" You asked again, concerned a bit.

Suddenly, Peter’s grip slipped, and he dropped the book he had been holding. The thud of it hitting the ground broke the spell he was in. Both of you bent down to pick it up, and as you handed it back to him, your eyes caught sight of his wrist. The same soulmate tattoo that adorned your wrist. Time seemed to freeze.

You were shocked, elated. Without a word, you closed the distance between you and wrapped your arms around him, your head resting against his chest. Peter hesitated for a moment before enveloping you in his arms, holding you tight.

"It’s you. It’s really you. I thought I’d never find you after so many years. I thought I’d never meet my soulmate," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. Your friends cheered behind you, their voices distant in Peter’s ears. You pulled away slightly, but your arms stayed around him. Peter gazed into your eyes, tears brimming in his own.

"I’m sorry it took so long," he whispered, apologizing for more than just time. Apologizing for the past.

"You’re so pretty," you said, your voice filled with wonder.

"So are you. You’re beautiful," Peter replied, his voice soft and sincere. He hugged you again, this time with a newfound resolve.

"I’ll never leave you," you promised, unaware of the weight of your words. But Peter felt it. In that moment, he swore to himself that he would protect you with everything he had. He would fight every battle, face every enemy, until his dying breath, to ensure your safety. You were his future, his hope. Destiny, or whatever force had brought you back into his life, had its way, and Peter was ready to embrace it.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[chiiyuuvv]

its silly me (IM SORRY 😭🙏🙏)

i rlly enjoyed your ‘xikers reacting to you putting on lipstick/gloss’ and was wondering if you could do a riize version 💕

• PAIRING — bf!riize x gn reader

• GENRE — fluff, shy riize, kissing.. i think thats it

• WORD COUNT — 459

• AUTHOR'S NOTE — i KNEW someone was gonna request this

• TAGLIST — @moonlightdarlings , @cake1box

MASTERLIST! – JOIN THE TAGLIST!

SHOTARO ☆

"Hey love." He'd appear out of nowhere as youre doing your make up, wrapping his arms around your waist and giving your cheek a peck

He be so interested with youre applying your lipstick, his eyes following your movements carefully

"Aww i want some." He'd pout, so you'd put some on his lips

And a kiss on the cheek if he starts whining

He'd get so red when he sees your lipstick stain, but nevertheless is he proud to call you his ♡

EUNSEOK ☆

Just stares at you fondly

"Pretty.." you'd hear him mutter under his breath, his big sparkly eyes boring into yours

Brings you to his lap so he can kiss the lipstick off of you

And he loves it when you whine that youre going to be late

But now you gotta put more lipstick on because he ruined it </3 ♡

SUNGCHAN ☆

Helps you put it on

Tells you to pucker your lips while sending you silly faces, making you laugh

Until he accidentally puts lipstick in your teeth

Your smile immediately drops

Lets just say that sungchan goes missing for a few days <3 ♡

WONBIN ☆

"Aww, you're getting all dolled up for me?"

"Yeah, for my handsome boyfriend." Wonbins plans of teasing you is quickly reversed

Scratches the back of his neck with a boyish grin because wow, you just called wonbin handsome

"Flirt.." he'd bury his head into your neck

"You started it." ♡

SEUNGHAN ☆

His heart is fluttering at how pretty you look

He usually feels very confident but now hes feeling shy, a lovesick grin on his face, his ears pink

"Hey~" he'd sneak up behind you, his head resting on your shoulder as he giggles

Almost goes crazy when you turn around to kiss him, his heart almost beating out of his chest

Best believe hes thinking about this when hes sleeping and he defo kicks his feet and giggles like a school girl ♡

SOHEE ☆

"Oh sorry, did i disturb you?" Quickly turns around and closes your door as you run to him and drag him back to your room

Sohee sits at the edge of your bed as he looks at you expectedly

So you get an idea

Prompting his face up, you start to put lipstick and fake eyelashes on him

"I'd be such a good girlfriend." He says proudly, looking at the mirror ♡

ANTON ☆

He gets so shy but he doesnt understand it; youre not even looking at him

Oop now you are, looking through your mirror as he quickly looks down, his face red as he realizes he's staring

And his heart is beating so fast when you inch beside him, grabbing his hand

"Y-you look.. pret-pretty.." hes just so stutter-ie gosh

Melts when you kiss his cheek ♡

[faithst]

ZB1 WHEN THEIR S/O ARE ON THEIR PERIOD

pairing zb1 x afab!reader

genre fluff, platonic for yujin

warnings mentions of food, blood & periods (obvi)

notes hi !! thank you for liking my works and for requesting ! i hope you enjoy this one <3

masterlist<3

— zhang hao

he gives you all the space you need

unless you specifically ask for smth

sometimes, you don’t even have to ask for smth

bcuz hao already knows what you need, he just does 👍

altho it seems like he doesn’t do much to help you

he actually does help

like doing the chores and cooking; doesn’t necessarily help w your period but still helps !

tucks you into bed and pulls the blanket over for you

holds you in his arms while tracing circles on your hand to distract you from the cramps 🫠

“does it still hurt?”

— sung hanbin

so hecking sweet 😤

he’s always there for you

just ask him to come over and he’d instantly drop everything that he’s doing just to be there for you

you need a hug? his arms are open. you have cramps? he has a heating pad ready for you

isn’t grossed out if it accidentally leaks ☹️

tells you he loves you everyday

forehead kisses 🔛🔝

so attentive to you and the only thing that matters to him is you

“i hope you know how much i love you.”

— seok matthew

prepared like his life depended on it (it did)

acts of service master ‼️

sets up a period tracker app for you

marks his calendars and stuff

pre-bought pads and things you like

heats up heating pads for you and does the chores

also cleans the sheets if you accidentally leak 💔

insists on doing everything for you

“i can get that, sit back down.”

— shen ricky

when you’re on your period

movies and cuddles are essential

you get to pick the movie too !

even if the movie isn’t interesting to him, he still watches it 🫶

ricky wants you to always be comfortable

you usually end up falling asleep in his arms

he tries to make sure you don’t fall off throughout the night but he always doesn’t get enough sleep bcuz of this

he doesn’t mind tho bcuz it’s you 🫵

“it’ll be better by tomorrow.”

— park gunwook

honestly, i feel like he’d forget periods exist

and then he sees you, curled up into a ball on the floor

he feels rlly bad for not doing his research on periods beforehand

checks up on you so much, asking if you need anything

“gunwook, can you help me buy pads?”

and he goes to buy them straight away !

only downside is that he has no idea what kind he’s supposed to buy 😭

there’s so many choices and he probably inspects every single one of them

like, which one has the most benefits and is worth the money 😐

“what do you mean these are diapers and not pads?”

— kim taerae

i see him clinging to you

cuz he doesn’t want you to feel the pain alone

and if you cry, he cries

he might not have a uterus but 😭

he feels your pain and shares it

if he could, he would take all of your pain and give it to himself

doesn’t leave your side and cuddles you 24/7

like he only gets up if you ask him to get smth

he gets the thing you need and instantly gets back into bed with you

def sings you to sleep 😔

“i’m sorry you have to go through this.”

— kim gyuvin

he 100% asks so many questions

and then complains how you’re always nagging at him 😭

“so.. is it like-” “can you stop?”

and you get so annoyed that you give him the silent treatment for a while

he feels a bit lonely cause you’re ignoring him so he apologises 🤝

but he does help you alot

like he buys you pads and snacks

he’s just a bit irritating during this time

“i got the stuff that you like, can you talk to me now? please?”

— kim jiwoong

at your service

gives you massages

your shoulders, back, head; you name it, he massages all of them

and just alot of cuddles and touches

esp the ones where he rubs your stomach whenever you have cramps 💔

compliments.

always manages to make you feel good about yourself even with the painful cramps

it’s like your periods weren’t even there in the first place 🫢

“you’re so pretty..”

— han yujin

straight up ignores you 😐

well not exactly but its because he’s scared

scared of doing smth wrong and making you hate him for it

so instead of having that risk of messing smth up, he checks up on you from time to time

through text..

‘hi, how are you?’ ‘i have blood gushing out my lower bottom, thanks for asking.’

sends you memes in effort to cheer you up 🤞

it makes you laugh a little bit

he doesn’t know exactly what to do but he tries and that’s all that matters

‘why did the chicken cross the road?’

© keiwook

[evesaintyves]

so in the allegedly non-homophobic spirit of this cursed genre of post (which, props to this one for at least saying the quiet part loud: that these criticisms are exclusively directed toward queer pairings), and inspired by a prompt of sorts from fandom gem @saintsenara -

i wrote some platonic jily and i completely agree, they're better as friends.

never mind the prosecco, here's the potter-malfoy-potter-blacks

Rated M | Jily, Narlily, Jegulus, Drarry | AU - everyone lives and it's like 2010 | tw choking, pussy juice, eggs

Three things occurred to Lily, leaning back on the island of cool italian marble in the fuck-off big kitchen of this ridiculous house: one, that she had no idea where all this was coming from, as James had never given a single fuck in his life about womens' Quidditch; two, that even three decades after they'd split up he was still obviously desperate for her to think he was cool; and three, that he was burning Regulus's eggs.

"So what the Harpies have done," he patiently explained as if she was listening, "is create a turn-based system for rotating positions—so every player has experience with beating, seeking, and so on—that way everyone's aware of the weak points—" he seemed to catch on that she wasn't making eye-contact, and tossed his mop of silvering hair. "The Weasley girl was on the Wireless about it this morning. Really inspiring."

He turned back to the crispy eggs and stirred them vigourously. They made a sort of crackling noise.

"I guess I'm just not sure why you're telling me," Lily said, taking the moment to finally do what she'd come to the kitchen for: grabbing a fresh bottle of prosecco from the fridge.

"Well, it's incredible what these girls are coming up with. 'The future is female,' I saw that on someone's shirt the other day."

He glanced eagerly at her over his shoulder.

"Cool," she said.

"Never mind the prosecco," Narcissa drawled, sweeping into the kitchen in her marabou-feather gown. "Draco's popped a button on his robes, so he'll be calling any moment."

"Do you mend buttons?" James asked with genuine interest.

Narcissa made an appalled face and gathered the lapels of her robe together.

"Have you not finished?" Regulus said sourly, coming down the stairs. Looking directly at Lily, he added, "This kitchen has smelled like a crematorium ever since you let Boopsy go."

Lily - still on the defensive after all these years! - crossed her arms and replied, "I didn't 'let her go,' she was legally emancipated and got a job at Pret a Manger."

Regulus waved a hand in the air, making the slight haze of egg-smoke swirl prettily in the light. "It's political correctness gone mad," he muttered.

Inexplicably, James got one of his big simpy grins, beckoned Regulus over, and smacked a kiss on his pale brow.

Draco apparated into their midst with a pop and instantly recoiled at the sight of them.

"Potters," he spat, by way of greeting. "Er—" he nodded to Regulus, whose name he could never seem to remember. Narcissa glided over and took his face in her hands.

"Oh, darling, come here, I've been waiting all morning to see you."

Lily, concerned she might not be effectively controlling her facial expression, turned to slot the prosecco bottle back into the fridge. Narcissa had actually spent most of the morning sprawled on her back with her thighs squishing the sides of Lily's face.

Draco squirmed slightly under his mother's hands. "It's all the buttons under the third one," he said gruffly, thrusting an armful of jacquard robes at Narcissa.

"Sweet boy," Narcissa cooed, "I'll send it out to the tailor immediately. How ever did you manage to break them?"

With another pop, Harry apparated into the room.

"Hi Mum," he said. "Dad. Hi Cissa and Reg."

James disentangled his arms from Regulus's and clapped Harry on the back. "Wha gwan, son?" he roared happily, and even with his back turned Lily could see Harry's shoulders cringe.

"I told you—" Draco began through his teeth.

"You were taking forever," Harry shrugged.

"I'm glad you're here," James said, very serious furrows appearing in his brow. "I was just listening to that bird you used to go out with on the wireless—"

"Oh!" Narcissa exclaimed, still petting Draco's face. "Darling, will you show everyone the trick you taught me last week?" To the room: "You'll all want to see this, it's marvellous. Draco's enchanted a mirror to do something incredible."

Draco sighed defeatedly. To Harry, he said, "Let me see your phone."

Harry pulled a slim black piece of glass out of his pocket, and, with a sideways glance at Lily, tapped and swiped at it with his fingers a few times before handing it to Draco.

"This mirror," Narcissa was saying, "quite remarkable, really—all you do is push a button on it, and a horrible little muggle comes to your door and brings you a prawn fettucine. Draco, please—" she scrabbled at the glass in his hand. "—will you push the fettucine button for mummy?"

"It's called Seamless, Mother," Draco mumbled, and just as he did Narcissa pulled a face and slid her finger round the collar of her son's shirt.

"Draco," she said, with a kind of horror rising in her voice, "What's happened to your neck? Is it dirt—?"

A flush instantly came to Draco's face and Harry twisted round from his one-sided conversation with James to give Draco a rather pointed look.

"Mother, stop, it's nothing," he said, pulling away. And on Harry's face was a look Lily had seen on James a thousand times, back in their day: like he was trying, but not particularly hard, not to look smug.

James's eyes shifted between Harry and Draco and he seemed, bless him, to finally clock what was going on. He pulled Harry by the shoulder to the other side of the kitchen and began to speak to him in hushed tones.

"You want to put all the pressure on the sides, not the front," he was saying.

Regulus went and scraped his ruined eggs into the bin, obviously eavesdropping, then put the pan back on the stove without shutting off the flame. The tang of hot metal began to compete with the crematorium smell and Lily wondered if anyone would notice if she got the prosecco back out and necked it.

"Regulus," she sighed. "Anything new with you?"

Regulus looked startled to be spoken to.

"Not really," he said, eyes shifting round the room. "I don't actually have all that much going on, canonically."

"Can—what?"

"Do you know how to make eggs?" he said hopefully.

"I think I've a salve for that," Narcissa was telling Draco, leading him by the hand into the suite she shared with Lily. "Well, it's more of an eye cream, but it's done absolute wonders for me—"

"You can do real damage to the trachea that way," James was explaining to Harry, demonstrating with a cupped hand to his neck.

"I work in Magical Law Enforcement," Harry deadpanned. "I think I know how to fucking choke someone."

Regulus emitted the strangely high-pitched giggle Lily was always hearing from inside the cup-strewn, bleach-smelling lair he shared with James.

"Why does it smell like—" Draco stopped in Lily and Narcissa's doorway. With narrowed eyes, he hissed to his mother, "I thought you were all in some sort of... like, queerplatonic... situation...?"

James's brow got those furrows again.

"What's queerplatonic?" he whispered to Lily.

"It means nobody fucks," she whispered back.

James squared his shoulders and took a step forward as if he might try to fight Draco.

---

"We raised a good kid," James would tell Lily later, after they'd put out the fire on the stove, slightly misty-eyed with nostalgia and the acrid smoke. "All of us," he'd add, with a nod toward Lily and Narcissa's side of the house, which was now perfumed rather pleasantly with a melange of prosecco, wet pussy and prawn fettucine.

"Yeah," Lily would say wistfully. "Shit taste in men, though."

"Well, it runs in the family." James would ruffle his hair, the way he tended to. After a pause, he'd venture: "And I daresay you and I had a pretty good run, didn't we?"

Lily would tip the bottle up and drain the last of the prosecco at that. James would hold out his hand, and she'd pass him the empty bottle. He'd try to take a drink, then bin it with a disgruntled look.

"It was all right," she'd say.

[jelzorz]

195a.

It starts on a Wednesday.

It's any other Wednesday. The on-campus coffee shop is emptier than usual because everyone's still away for the winter and the new semester won't start for a few weeks yet, but someone has to man the coffee machines while the undergrads are away and, well. Soren could use the extra cash.

It's a lot less glamorous than what he used to do. Going back to school had sounded like a good idea when he was working shit hours and too much overtime as a hospital physiotherapist, but now he's poor again, and he's still working shit hours and too much overtime. Now he serves coffee to stressed college students and exhausted academics while he fills his spare time with books about business and money and legal stuff that makes his brain hurt, and for what? The idea of his own clinic is so distant. So small. Some days it feels good to study, to start fresh. On others...

The smell of dark roast is clingy but Soren breathes it in sometimes just to stay awake.

The kitchen is warm today, stuffy and humid in spite of the January chill. Callum is making eyes at Rayla from the till while she busses tables in the dining area, and it's as disgusting as it is sweet because neither of them seem to understand that the obsession goes both ways. Ezran is humming to whatever hipster song is playing over the work speaker while he stacks the dishwasher, and Soren is dusting chocolate powder over someone's almond milk mocha when it begins.

"Opeli! We haven't seen you in ages! How've you been?"

Soren glances up and thinks his heart stutters a little. There's a woman at the counter. She looks tired, but her eyes are bright and kind and striking in a way that he knows he'll be up tonight thinking about their exact shade of blue. The hood of her coat is bunched up around her ears like she's only just now pushed it back, and there's still flakes of snow on her shoulders and in the caramel of her hair.

She is, in a word, beautiful, but a really old-world kind of beautiful; the regal, fairy-tale kind that might have had him wearing her favour into battle if she let him in a other life.

"Well enough," she's saying, adjusting the strap of her handbag. "Your father tells me you and Ezran are enjoying your time on campus."

Callum shrugs, but he grins as he answers. "There are good days and bad days. I think Rayla's signed up for your class next semester."

"Has she?" The woman—Opeli—chuckles. "I'll go easy on her, shall I?"

"Isn't that a conflict of interest?"

"You took my class last semester," she laughs. "You tell me."

Callum has the decency to flush a little. "Not if you declare it, right?"

"So you were paying attention," she teases. "Don't worry. I won't quiz you any further. Just a latte with an extra shot of coffee please."

"Coming right up," says Callum. "Soren, did you get that?"

Too late, Soren realises he's been staring the whole time, and that the cup of coffee he's putting the final touches on has a whole extra layer of chocolate powder over the top. "Uh." He swears and dusts his hands. "Yup. One latte with an extra shot. Got it. Won't be a minute."

The woman gives him a look that definitely doesn't wither under and jerks her head at a table by the window. "I'll just be over there," she says. "Say hi to Ezran for me," she adds to Callum, who nods and slides her order receipt across the bench to Soren.

It's not that Soren believes in that kind of attraction at first sight. It's that he's had a bit of a dry spell since Corvus and this is the first time in ages that anyone's caught his eye. Opeli is—

Well. She's older than him, he's sure of that, but by how much, he can't be sure. There's just something about the pull of her smile and the lilt in her voice and the impish little light in her eyes that makes Soren want to talk to her, just to bear witness to all those things over and over again.

He finishes off the last order and then starts hers with a flourish, topping it off with his best latte art (a swan, as graceful and pretty as she) and when Rayla comes to take it, he shoos her away.

"Isn't your turn for a break?"

Rayla raises an eyebrow at him. "I've been here an hour."

"Oh," says Soren. "It's just that Callum's about to go on his and you usually go together—"

She flushes. "What are you implying, exactly?" she snaps, just a tad defensively. "I don't time my breaks with his. Why would I do that? Just because we go together downtimes—"

"Oh, my God, Rayla. I don't care. Do you wanna join him or not?"

Rayla presses her lips together, then scowls at him, red-faced, and slams the tray on the counter before she stalks away to find Callum anyway. Soren tries not to snort and sets the latte on it, pleased for the opportunity for a little privacy.

Opeli is tapping away on her laptop when he gets to her, and he sets the mug and the tarts on her table with a smile.

"One double shot latte for the lovely lady by the window," he says, throwing in a bow for good measure.

Opeli raises an eyebrow at him, amused. "Thank you," she says primly. "Is this how you bring over everyone's orders or am I simply lucky?"

"I'm the lucky one for making your acquaintance," he says, winking.

Opeli laughs and shakes her head, sardonic but charmed all the same. "Very smooth," she comments drily. "If a lot a cheesy."

"These are the jokes, take them or leave them." He grins, smarmy and stupid, and even if she's not interested, he likes the way she smiles, so he takes the win. "You know Callum and Ez?"

"I'm a family friend," she says. "And you are?"

"Soren, your friendly neighbourhood barista, at your service." He draws the chair across from her, and when she doesn't object, takes a seat. "You teach here?"

"A little," says Opeli. "Feels like I do admin more than I teach these days but haggling with the university about what is and isn't part of your job is part and parcel, I'm afraid."

"Oh, that's so cool," says Soren—and he means it. "Well. Not the haggling part. Although, I totally get that. Before I came back, everything was a fight."

"Back?" she asks.

Soren shrugs. "Yeah, just doing some extra stuff, trying to stay relevant and develop professionally and all that." He waves her off. He shrinks a little when he spots Barius behind the counter, craning his head over the line and obviously trying to find his staff. "Listen, I uh—I gotta get back over there but um. I'd love to like. Have a proper talk. Sometime I'm not the one making the coffee. Would that—can I see you again sometime?"

She chuckles. "I'll be around," she says cryptically. "Thank you for the tarts. How much do I owe?"

"Oh." Soren twitches his lips. "It's on the house."

She blinks, then smiles, then sips her coffee. "Thank you," she says. "It was nice to meet you, Soren."

"Same to you. I'll um. See you around?"

Opeli hides her chuckle behind the rim of her mug. "Perhaps you will."

It's not the most straightforward answer, but it certainly doesn't feel like a rejection either. Soren grins to himself and slips the tray under his arm as he heads back to the counter.

Some days it feels good to start fresh. He thinks this might be one of them.

[xoxo-sarah]

I Wanna Be Yours || Part 11

Part 10 | part 12

↝a/n: I feel out of love with this series after chapter 4, if you can't already tell by the effort I put into the chapters after. I refuse to just scrap it through. Also ⚠️ I need help on picking a song for this fic. I have been listening to different songs from the 80's to see which one should be reader's favorite, but then I had the idea that I could just use the song that this story was based off of (since the series kinda went off the tracks with the original plan). I Wanna Be Yours by Artic Monkey's is a good song and I could make it work. Obviously it wasn't released in the 80's but this is fiction anyway, so it doesn't really matter. Should I continue looking for better songs or use I Wanna Be Yours?⚠️ Your opinion would be highly appreciated 🩷

↝pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!Wheeler!reader

↝Warning: not proofread, possible spoilers, cannon events, nosebleed, flashback of flashback from chapter 3, pining, cursing, not proofread

↝⎙ 7.30.24

“Couldn’t we have tried a road, or something just slightly less creepy?” Robin and Nancy were walking ahead of you, treading through the dead forest of the Upside Down. Steve and Eddie were a little behind you, deep in conversation.

“I think we’re getting close. We’re out of here. Don’t worry.” Robin nodded at Nancy’s reply, before falling in step with you, leaving Nancy to lead the way.

You weren’t sure why she fell in step with you. You hadn’t said a word since the mini earthquake. “Feel any better?”

You cleared your throat, “Yeah, I guess.”

“I would say you need to eat something, but I highly doubt the food in the pantry would taste any good.” You couldn’t help but crack a smile, appreciating her trying to lighten the mood.

You decided to play along, “I don’t know, there might be some saltines.”

Before Robin could reply, the ground shook again. You feel the opposite way of each other, where you had landed harshly against a tree. You felt the pain shoot through your shoulder, through your arm to your fingertips.

“Okay, second on my list of least favorite things: earthquakes. Seriously, I’m unsteady enough as it is.” Robin seethed, looking up in time to watch Nancy run off. “Nancy! Where are you going?”

Looking up, you mentally cursed your sister and the thoughts her brain came up with. As soon as the ground stopped shaking, you all ran after Nancy, yelling out for her.

You ran until you found her, overlooking your neighborhood. “Come on.” She walked forward, toward your house.

It was weird, seeing your house standing. The water of Lover’s lake was dried up, trees dead, but your house stood, surrounded by the dried out version of the trees you, Nancy, and Mike would play in as kids.

Nancy took a deep breath before opening the front door.

“Ew,” You stepped over the vines littering every inch of the house.

“Might be time to get a maid, Wheeler.” Robin stepped beside you, watching her next step.

“Come on, I don’t want to stay here longer than we have to.” You followed Nacy up the stairs, falling back as they made their way to her room.

Steve turned back half way up the stairs, looking into the living room, but you paid him no mind.

Your door to your room creaked open. You set your eyes upon your room. The same tacky paint laid on the walls, pure nostalgia. It was from your childhood, which you covered up when you hit sophomore year. The memory of you and Chrissy played in your mind.

She spent so much of your friendship trying to get you to open up- to be yourself. ANd you couldn't even get her to open up about what was bothering her. You could’ve asked.

“The way he looked at you!” Chrissy continued to gush, kicking her feet in a 'schoolgirl' way. She stared up at you with her head in her hands, laying on her stomach. Homework was long forgotten.

“He looks at everyone like that.” Rolling your eyes, you turned back to your dresser, looking in the top drawer for a certain shirt you were meant to have worn the day before. You were pretty sure Nancy had stolen it at this point. Wouldn't have been the first shirt that had just wound up missing just for you to see either in Nancy's clothes basket or on her. “I saw him look at Mrs. O'Relle and I thought he was going to combust. He's just a naturally flirty guy. I don't even think he realizes it most of the time."

“Oh, okay. Yeah.” With her tone and the smile on her face, it was obvious she didn't believe a word you said.

After closing the drawer harder than you meant to, you turned, glaring at the girl. “Anyway… I don't like him.”

You regretted the way you said 'him' as soon as it rolled off your tongue. But you tried to play it off cool. However, she didn't.

“So there's another guy!” You were quick to shush her, with it being night and Holly had already been put to bed and the fact you did not want your parents or siblings knowing anything about your love life. “Sorry.” She moved to sit up, watching as you sat on the edge of the mattress. “So…?”

“So what?”

“What's so special about this guy?” She said it as if you were stupid for asking.

“Nothing. Well, not like-” Closing your mouth, you couldn't find the words. Your eyes danced around your room, taking in the tacky paint from your childhood that you have yet to cover up. “He's different.” No matter how much she tried for you to meet her eye, yours stayed glued to the wall In front of you.

After a few moments of silence, you glanced over, her face telling you to continue. Her smile was so sweet, happy for you.

“He's nice.” She. She's nice. But Chrissy didn't need to know that. This is the first time you've told her about anyone you have ever fancied in the 5 years you two have been the best of friends. She was over the moon. “He's smart. He looks good in blue or green.” Chrissy noticed the way your lip twitched into a small smile at the thought of this mystery 'man'.

“What does he look like?”

“Light-brown hair, blue eyes.” You began fiddling with your nightshirt. “Tall. Taller than me, at least. Uh,” You glanced back over, not wanting to be telling her this anymore. Sure, you've wanted to tell someone how you felt, how a girl you barely talk to could make you feel all kinds of giddy without meaning to. But this was too much. “Actually, I don't want to talk about this anymore. If you don't mind.”

Before she could reply, you clicked your lamp off, leaving you to get under the blankets in the dark.

Robin's nice. She's smart. She looks good in blue or green. She had light-brown hair and pretty blue eyes. She is taller than you. She is beautiful. She is someone you couldn't even admit to liking to your closest friend.

You know Chrissy would never judge you or make you feel less than, but it was just different. It always would be. Sadly.

“He sounds nice, like someone you should admit your feelings to.” Chrissy spoke up after a moment of silence, of which you had stared above you, darkness blocking the color of the ceiling. You nearly scoffed at her words. But you settled on humming in agreement, or maybe just to satisfy her.

…

Chrissy was never one to judge.

The worst things always happen to the best people.

“Y/n?” You heard Nancy yell, frustration clear in her tone. Scrolling out of your room, you leaned against the doorframe, the pain in your shoulder slightly subsiding. “‘83, the year Will went missing.” Nancy stared at you, “We’re stuck in the past.”

“I’ve noticed.” you deadpanned, growing frustrated at the whole thing. “I don’t know why you're looking at me like that. It’s not like I have access to Vecna’s brain and know everything about this stupid place and stupid vines, and this stupid shit flying around in the air.”

You frantically waved around you, the bits flying around you, like a fly that keeps annoying you, getting on your last nerve- “Wheeler, hey, chill out, yeah?” Eddie stepped forward, bringing his hand to your shoulder. You instinctually recoiled, not wanting him to touch it and make it begin to hurt again. You put your arms back down at your sides, looking up at them. Their looks of confusion turned to concern. You felt your nose running. Blood coated your fingertips when you went to rub at where something wet was leaking onto your top lip.

“Dustin? Dustin!” Steve yelled from somewhere else in the house. You waved them off when they hesitated to leave as you tried cleaning up your nose. You grabbed the nearest dark clothing in Nancy’s room before going after them. “Dustin! Can you hear me, Dustin?” Steve frantically circled the kitchen and dining area. “Dus-Hello? Hel-Hello?!”

“Maybe he really does have rabies.”

Nancy ignored Robin, watching with concern, “Steve, what are you doing?”

Steve swung around, shining the flashlight into everyone’s eyes. “He’s here; Henderson. That little shit, he’s here. He’s like…He’s in the walls or something. Just listen.” He put his hand up, motioning for you to be quiet and listen. “Dustin. Dustin! Dustin, can you hear me?”

You could faintly hear Dustin’s voice, leading to everyone yelling out for him. STeve took a break, “Alright, either this kid can't hear us or he’s being a total douchebag.”

“Will found a way.”

“What?” Steve turned to Nancy.

“Will,” Nancy realized, staring up at Steve, “He found a way to speak to Joyce through the lights.” “Lights?” He trailed behind, watching as she tried to flick the lightswitch.

“You okay?” Eddie shoulder cheeked the one that wasn’t hurting, making sure to be gentle. You sniffed, “Yeah, it stopped bleeding.”

He pursed his lips, “ ‘m not talking about your nose. You about had a meltdown up there.”

“Sorry,” Your voice was only a whisper.

“No need to apologize. Shit is about to make me breakdown, too.”

“It’s all so much. There might not even be anything we can do.”

Eddie watched as you ranted. He knew you weren’t the talking type, much less the venting type. But he knew you hadn’t had time to properly grieve. He knew you wouldn’t give yourself time to do so until they figured out more about Vecna. You would burst at any moment, and they would only be able to watch as you did.

Robin watched your face, slowly watching as you crumbled more and more throughout this week. You didn’t deserve Vecna’s curse, she knew that for sure.

Steve spoke, “Guys, you seeing this?” You turned toward him, following where he pointed his flashlight at the light fixture hanging from the ceiling. The bulbs glowed, flickering a little. Particles swirled around like dust in the air. The bulbs sparked as you stepped closer. Nancy raised her hand, moving it to the sparkling particles. It was so much prettier when it was glowing and not in your face.

“Woah,” Eddie stared in awe.

You could still hear Dustin’s voice.

Steve raised his hand, doing the same as Nancy had. Soon, you all had your hand up, gawking.

“It…tickles.” Steve drew his eyebrows together.”

“It kinda feels good.”

Eddie smiled at Robin in agreement.

Nancy jerked her hand back, “Does anyone know morse code?”

“No,” you all shook your heads.

“Wait, does S.O.S count?” Nancy looked at Eddie, “Is that…is that good?”

By now, the only people who haven’t taken their hands away were you and Robin. Your hand tingled as you looked over at her, a slight smile on your lips. Although the rest of the upside down was dark and gloomy and gross, the lights lit up her face a little. It showcased her cheekbones, the tip of her nose, and her chin. Her eyes left her hand, catching your eyes. Even though the light didn’t illuminate her eyes, you could make out the specks of blue and green. Your eyelids half-blinked, too scared that if you fully closed your eyes, even for a second, that Robin would disappear or look away.

“Excuse me, ladies.” Eddie stepped forwards after talking to Steve and Nancy, explaining the plan. You had pulled your hand back as soon as he stepped closer, as if you had gotten caught. Robin had a hard time watching as you did so. Were you too scared to simply be seen holding eye-contact with her? She could hide her disappointment easily, she thought, atleast.

You had gotten through to Dustin on the other side. Now, you all kneeled on the side of Nancy’s bed. The kids had the idea to get Holly’s Lite-Brite, and communicate with that, as they kneeled in the same place in the other dimension.

“Okay,” Dustin yelled to be heard, “You guys seeing this?” Nancy raised her hand, the same light radiating in the particles.

Dustin’s cackle could be heard, before he said that they were unplugging it. As everyone stared in awe, you caught something- someone- in your peripheral. Robin smiled at the image in front of her. All frustration dissipated in your body. Your shoulders relaxed. Even if you were on the edge about Vecna and his cures, as long as Robin kept smiling, it would be okay. Maybe that was a delusional way of thinking but it made it all easier. Or maybe spending your last moments staring into her eyes makes it less scary. Your last moments don't matter- not when Max is in the same boat as you Blinking back to reality, you heard Dustin yelling, “We think Watergate isn’t the only gate. That there’s a gate at every murder site.”

“Does anybody understand what he’s talking about?” Nancy questioned, watching as everyone shook their heads. She wrote a question mark in the dust, waiting for an answer.

“Seriously?! How many times do I have to be right on the money before you trust me?” Dustin’s frustration was clear as day. Steve sighed, “Jesus Christ, this kid’s gotta get his ego in check.”

“It’s his tone, right?” Eddie leaned over, agreeing with Steve.

“I know.”

Nancy ignored the boys, like she has been doing this whole time. “So, how far is your trailer?”

You felt your blood run cold. No way you had to go to the place Vecna had sucked the life out of your best friend.

“Seven miles.”

The rest of the conversation went over your head, your only thought being Chrissy. Unknowingly to you, someone was watching you, sympathy in their pretty eyes.

It was so easy for everyone to forget that you were going through something. Even if they noticed how odd, quiet, and distance you became, they didn;t make it a priority to ask. Robin noticed- the headaches, nose bleeds, the distant look in your eyes- she noticed it all. There was a checklist in her head of your symptoms and she didn’t like how it was looking. You flinched when you felt something graze your knuckles. Looking down, you noticed Robin's hand beside yours, palm open for comfort. Your eyes shot up to hers, to find that she was looking away, acting like she wasn’t trying to silently comfort you. Robin had to fight back a grin as she felt your hand slip into yours.

Your eyes were trained on the gate in Eddie’s trailer's roof. It’s like you were in a trance. The pulsing red pulling you in, but at the same time, keeping you glued to your spot. “This is where Chrissy died. Like, right right where she died.” Eddie broke the silence, grimacing at the memory.

“Jessica?!” Chrissy stopped painting her toenails, fixing her back and gawking up at you. “The one everyone thought the Steve Harrington boy was going to end up with?” Your lips formed a thin line. You and Jessica had talked about the rumors. The two of them hadn’t even interacted much, only interacting as much as you had to with the other people in your grade. Jessica thought the rumors were funny, you not so much.

“Yeah, safe to say she’s not his type.”

Chrisst bit her cheek in amusement. “So,” She went back to hunching over her knees, beginning to paint her nails once again. “Are you together now or…?”

Your movements stopped, frozen in thought until you closed the nail polish bottle in your hand. “I don’t know, i mean” Sure, you liked her, but it was all fun in games. It was just complicated. Jessica was pretty, nice, witty, but it always felt like something was missing. Her touch was nice, her green eyes were pretty, her pink lips felt soft, but it wasn't what you pictured when you fell asleep. Her lips weren’t what you yearned for. “What we have is fun, but…” Your voice trailed off. Chrissy gave you a sympathetic look, finishing your thought for you, “She’s not Robin.”

•© 2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

• My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]

🫧 Taglistׂׂ ૢ ~ @overtrred28 @ihatepeanutss @jovana1234578 @dobbycarl @kyleeservopoulos @marirxse @ch-3-rry

[total-drama-brainrot]

hi idk if this has been said but . pls hear my vision… lindsay and noah platonic duo. brains and the beauty. noahs the brains. lindsays the beauty. noahs like “jeez this girl is dumb i cn manipulate her or smth” but then he starts warming up to her and they like paint eachothers nails and talk about boys or somthing idk please theyre besties trust 🤞

(also noah finally gets a makeover courtesy of lindsay)

I think I might've mentioned this exact duo before, though I may be wrong about that. Regardless, I've had Many A Thought about the potential dynamic between Lindsay "reclaiming bimbo as a term of empowerment" and Noah "could be god's biggest hater but was nerfed with an inability to GAF", to the point where I have a few drafts exploring this exact concept.

Through the lens of my eyes (blurry as it would be, my prescription fairly strong), I don't think Noah would ever consider manipulating Lindsay- at least, not in a similar manner to the likes of Heather or Alejandro. He's shown in canon to be pretty adverse to the idea. Why else would he make those comments about Alejandro in "I See London..."?

Not that he doesn't think about how easy it would be to use her. But his morality wins out over his scheming thoughts pretty quickly- no one wants to be New Heather, after all.

However, he's also shown a capacity to explore sneakier options of deception and trickery; pretending to pass out during the 20k run in The Big Sleep, trying to excuse his comment about Alejandro under the guise of it "being a compliment where he's from", tricking the Sasquatch with his fake ball throwing, getting himself eliminated on purpose in Dodgebrawl. I'm trying to think of other examples In Canon off the top of my head, but I'm coming up short since most of his actual speaking lines in the show are 'zingers' and 'witty one-liners' instead of actual character moments.

And we also know, from the way he treats Owen, that he's a lot more patient and indulgent towards the... 'slower' or 'simpler' contestants. He very rarely gets mad at Owen's mistakes- see how he gently chastises him in "Super Happy Crazy Fun Time Japan" when he's disturbing their set, he'd pretty much gentle parenting him, or how he doesn't even raise his voice against Owen after being blasted by nose-shake in "I See London...". You could argue that Owen just has best friend privileges, but given the way he also talks about his dog I think Noah just has a soft spot for happy-go-lucky, heart-of-gold, kind of stupid people (and blondes). Sound familiar?

Lindsay would fall under this umbrella of 'treat with kindness' because of this, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't try to subtly nudge her in the 'right direction'- out of Heather's and/or Alejandro's influence and into his own. For her own safety, of course.

Not that I think he'd even like Lindsay at first. The two of them are opposite ends of the social spectrum; I'd take a while for Lindsay to break through his snarky exterior, but I think eventually Noah would realise that she isn't the 'two-faced airhead popular girl' he'd assumed her to be and quickly warm up to her (she's airheaded, sure, but there's nothing two-faced or nefarious/mean-spirited about Lindsay). It's a classic case of "extrovert adopts introvert".

Meanwhile, Lindsay would be dead-set on breaking Noah out of his sour little shell. Either because she overhears Owen/Izzy/Eva explaining how Noah struggles to make friends because he's "very shy" and "mixes up his insults and his compliments", thus she assumes that, hey, Noah's made fun of her a few times, maybe that was just him trying to be friendly? So she makes it her mission to reciprocate his efforts and befriend him (much to Noah's initial suspicion, and begrudging appreciation).

Or she gets the concept of a 'gay best friend' stuck in her head (an impressive feat, getting anything stuck in such a vacant space /j) probably from watching too many high school teen dramas, and sees Noah as the ideal candidate since he pretty much embodies most of the stereotypical GBF traits; a sassy twink who's defining characteristic is making snarky comments. If Noah ever caught wind of this, he'd either be mortified by the concept and avoid Lindsay like the plague until she'd eventually hunt him down, or he'd think the whole concept is too funny to pass up and gladly play the part- if only for his own amusement. (Personally I headcanon him as bi, but he's so canonically queer coded that he fits the stereotype anyway.)

Which is all just a long-winded way of me saying I think Lindsay would kindle the friendship without giving Noah much of a choice (again, extrovert adopting introvert) and Noah would just go along with it, being the lazy guy he is, and quickly grow fond/protective over her.

If he and Owen are the golden retriever and black cat dynamic, Noah and Lindsay are an afghan hound and a black cat; Noah has a lot of black cat energy (that's just a given) and you cannot tell me that Lindsay isn't an afghan hound- they're pretty, gentle-natured and renown for their low intelligence.

Plus, Lindsay's capacity for meanness (as unintentional as it may be) would be comedy gold to Noah. He'd encourage her to keep that sharp tongue and steel spine, if not for his own entertainment, then to ensure she doesn't become someone else's doormat again. In return, Lindsay would bring out a softer side of Noah, likely a result of her reminding him of his several older sisters.

She'd absolutely abuse her 'soft Noah' privileges too by roping him in on sleepovers where the two of them gossip and paint each other's nails (Noah's against the idea at first but Lindsay hits him with the puppy eyes and he folds like a lawn chair), eventually leading to Lindsay giving Noah a much needed glow up. He finds himself enjoying the pampering- though he'd never admit it- and Lindsay's just ecstatic that she has someone to use as a dress-up doll (Tyler wouldn't let her give him another makeover after Paris).

[harrowharr0w]

anyways here’s some shenanigans

preT*leaves + preT miku + normal miku

i have some. ideas. 😈

[overtail]

hey queen it’s me sawda with another toph ask </3 (im toph content deprived literally crying) but!! can i req a toph x fem!r where toph’s s/o is literally mulan but in the firebending army?? Thank you!!!

YES ILL DO THAT HEHE I LOVE TOPH!!

ALSO just wanna make yall aware my pronouns are they/them

I'm also so sorry for the delay. I've been on the worst writers block due to a lack of motivation. my whole family was sick, and we've been unable to pick up my anti-depressants 😭

...

Little Soldier - Toph x F!Reader

Summary: When Toph's lover turns 13, she tells her that she has to fight alongside the fire nation to protect her family.

Trigger Warning: Sexism, Implied racism, Forbidden love

Info: Pre-Book 2, long hair reader

...

'We're not gonna lose anyone else close to us again

We swore that we would always be there for each other

No matter what happens though, I promise that I'll protect you

If you were a boy

I would have actually have fallen for you if you were careful

Oh, c'mon, well maybe I'm the one who should have a crush on you'

...

"Watcha doin?" Toph feet dug into the dirt of the valley's grass, trying to identify (Y/N)'s action. Her delt held a look of confusion as se did so.

"Im just.." (Y/N) began, glancing back at Toph as she thought. "Thinking."

She held a clump of hair in her fingers, combing her digits through the strands. Something was obviously on her mind, like she was stuck in a loop up in her little head.

"About what?" Toph shuffled over, crouching down so she was eye level (if you wanted to say that) with the other. She smiled softly while (Y/N) thought: only if she knew

"You know how theres news of the Avatar returning?" (Y/N) whispered, letting out a shaky breath. Toph hummed a quiet 'yes', letting her feet slip so she would fall on her bottom. "And you also know how they're drafting men from the fire nation?"

Toph wondered where this was going. She modded carefully, feeling the floor to hear (Y/N)'s heartbeat. It was fast paced, causing the earthbender to worry.

"Yeah. Are people in your village getting drafted?" Toph questioned, thinking about all the possibilities. She heard (Y/N) sigh.

"Worse. My dad was given a note specifically by the current general." Toph's eyebrows raised at her words, realization hitting. (Y/N)'s father used to fight a long time ago, starting when he was just a boy. This was before she was born, before he met his wife.

He was regarded as one of the most intense, bloodthirsty, and brutal generals in history - behind the Dragon of the West. Though, he was old now; not fit for war.

Toph didn't know what to say. She wasn't particularly fond of the fire nation, but she was fond of (Y/N).

The girl across from her sighed, continuing to comb her digits in her hair. How would she tell Toph?

(Y/N) looked up, her face flushing red at the sight of Toph's oblivious face. She looked so calm in the moment, the valley wind ruffling up her hair. During these secret meetings, Toph would let her hair down. The soft locks ran down her back, some falling over her shoulders.

(Y/N) thought she was beautiful.

"Well, I was thinking," (Y/N) let go of her hair, moving to pick at the nail of her index finger. A sickness caused from nervousness settled in her stomach. "of pretending to be a boy."

Toph laughed, not quite knowing what she meant. "Why would you want to do that?" She smirked, before the smile faltered.

Oh.

"Wait, you're not saying-"

"I'm going to take my fathers place as his eldest son." (Y/N) interjected, her breath hitching at the words. Saying it out loud made the reality hit her light a train - realizing that it wasn't just an idea. This was happening.

Toph stayed unusually silent. She wasn't too expressive when it came to her face, but even now (Y/N) couldn't read her. Was she angry? Happy? Scared? What. was she feeling?

"How?"

(Y/N) raised a brow, confused by the question. "What do you mean?"

Toph pursed her lips, her eye brows knitting together. "How are you going to pretend to look like a boy?"

Even though Toph couldn't see her, she knew that boys and girls looked different.

(Y/N) let out a shaky breath, gripping at her hair lightly. Her family always forced her into the ideal of a perfect, feminine woman - but in secret, she was strong, aggressive, and messy. Even though her personality was changed, her looks were still influenced by her family's wants. Her hair was long, and she wore fancy clothes and makeup.

"Oh, uhm.." (Y/N) was hesitant. She knew, but she sounded like she was protecting herself from her own words. "I'm gonna cut my hair.."

Toph raised an eyebrow, intrigued by (Y/N)'s response. "Cut your hair, huh? That's a bold move. How short are we talking?"

(Y/N) swallowed nervously, fidgeting with a loose thread on her sleeve. "I-I don't know... Short enough to pass as a boy, I guess."

Toph nodded thoughtfully. "Alright, let's do it."

Later that day, the two sat in her bedroom, Toph listening to the sound of (Y/N) snipping her hair. The locks fell onto the floor, sticking to clothes and to skin. After some time, (Y/N) found herself spaced on on Toph's bed, watching her every move.

As Toph unraveled her hair, the room was filled with the sound of gentle brushing, the rhythmic motion soothing in its familiarity. She worked through each tangle with practiced ease, her movements fluid and deliberate.

(Y/N) watched in silence, mesmerized by the way Toph's fingers danced through her hair, untangling knots with effortless grace. There was something intimate about the moment, a quiet exchange between friends bound by unspoken understanding.

"Your hair is beautiful," (Y/N) said softly, breaking the silence.

Toph glanced up, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thanks. It's a pain to manage sometimes, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Do you ever wish you could cut it short, like mine?"

Toph paused, her expression thoughtful. "Sometimes, yeah. It would be easier, especially when I'm training. But... it's a part of who I am, you know? Cutting it would feel like losing a piece of myself."

(Y/N) nodded, understanding flickering in her eyes. "I get that."

Toph set down the brush, turning to face (Y/N) fully. "I get that you're worried. I can sense it. Your heart is racing." Toph walked over to her bed where (Y/N) sat, sinking into the mattress. "I'm gonna miss you, but I also believe in you, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) felt a weight lift off her shoulders, a sense of freedom washing over her. With Toph's unwavering support, she knew she could embrace her true self, messy hair and all. And as they sat together, basking in the warmth of their friendship, (Y/N) realized that sometimes, the most beautiful thing about a person isn't their appearance, but the authenticity of their spirit.

(Y/N) turned her head to look at toph, her face going red at the sight of her graceful face, She wanted to kiss her. Yeah, she did.

As (Y/N) gazed at Toph, her cheeks flushed with a warmth that had nothing to do with embarrassment. She was captivated by the gentle curve of Toph's lips, the sparkle in her eyes that hinted at hidden depths. And in that moment, a realization washed over her with startling clarity – she wanted to kiss her.

The thought sent a shiver down (Y/N)'s spibe, her heart pounding in her chest as she wrestled with her emotions. It was a risk, she knew, to confess her feelings, especially when their friendship hung in the balance. But the longing in her chest was too powerful to ignore, a flame that refused to be extinguished.

With trembling hands, (Y/N) reached out, cupping Toph's cheek gently as she leaned in, her heart pounding in her ears. And then, their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, a silent affirmation of the emotions that had been brewing beneath the surface.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they savored the sweetness of the moment, their hearts beating in perfect synchrony. And when they finally pulled away, their breath mingling in the air, (Y/N) found herself smiling, a sense of peace settling over her like a warm blanket.

Toph blinked in surprise, her lips curved in a soft smile. (Y/N) chuckled nervously, her cheeks still tinged with pink. And as they sat together, their fingers intertwined, (Y/N) had already started to realize what she was committing to. She's leaving. She's leaving to fight in a war that seemed as if it was never going to end to save her family.

As the reality of (Y/N)'s impending departure settled in, a somber silence descended upon the room, casting a shadow over the warmth of their shared moment. Toph's smile faltered slightly, her eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation.

(Y/N) squeezed Toph's hand tightly, her own heart heavy with the weight of her decision. She had made up her mind to fight in the war, to confront the forces that threatened her her homeland. But with each passing moment, the prospect of leaving Toph behind grew more daunting.

"I... I have to go," (Y/N) murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Toph nodded slowly, her expression a mixture of understanding and sadness. "I know," she said softly. "And I'll be here waiting for you when you get back. No matter what."

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes as she leaned forward, resting her forehead against Toph's. "I don't know what I'd do without you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Toph wrapped her arms around (Y/N) in a tight embrace, holding her close as if trying to shield her from the harsh realities of the world outside. "You won't have to find out," she promised, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart.

And as they held each other in the quiet of the room, (Y/N) found solace in Toph's arms, knowing that no matter how far apart they may be, their bond would endure.

Toph was her best friend, Toph was her girl. Toph was, well, Toph, and how could anyone forget someone like her?

...

should I make a part 2

[ihavemanyhusbands]

This might sound pathetic but can we get a lil hurt/comfort with Duncan? 🥹

He's in his cabin in during a harsh winter evening when he nears a knock on the door, it's the reader, beaten and bruised and she's looking for shelter. Duncan takes care of her wounds and ends up holding her to sleep since she's scared of the sounds of the thunders outside 🥺

NOT PATHETIC AT ALL IT WOULD BE MY ABSOLUTE HONOR TO WRITE THIS FOR YOU!!!!! (I love this idea sm thank you!!!!!)

———

Duncan thought you were a dream at first; a snowy mirage. Frost clung to your hair, lashes, and eyebrows. Your lips had taken on a purplish hue, and you were clearly scraped and battered, trembling all over.

He pulled you inside as soon as his shock passed. Wordlessly, he led you in front of the fireplace and went to fetch a blanket. He wrapped it around you and went to find his first aid kit as you stayed staring emptily at the fire.

He knelt in front of you, but you didn’t seem to notice him. He was a large man and had a self described “mean mug”, so he was very much intimidating to others. But he was surprised that you didn’t even flinch at his nearness.

“Can you tell me your name?” He asked, his gravelly voice soft as he could make it. “Or what happened to you?”

You turned your head towards him, blinking once. Your body was still trembling slightly, but at least your lips had recovered their normal color. His gaze lingered there for just one second too long, and then he met your gaze again.

He surmised you were in shock, not having said one word yet, your eyes unable to really focus on anything. You let him take your hands to examine the scratches on your arms, and he set out to carefully patch them up.

When you first said your name, he could barely hear it, but he looked up in surprise at the fact you’d spoken. He prompted you to repeat it, and you said it just a little louder.

“I crashed my car. The snow was too dense, and I just couldn’t see anything… I don’t even know what I hit. I just saw your cabin and stumbled over here…” you murmured. “It was all so fast. I’m so sorry for intruding, I just… didn’t want to freeze.”

“Don’t apologize, you did what you had to do,” he said. “My name is Duncan. Sorry that we’re meeting under these circumstances, but I’ll do my best to help you.”

“Thank you,” you said, and it was then that you broke down crying.

For a moment he was unsure what to do, but then he got up to get you some tissues. The sounds of the storm outside only worsened as he continued to take care of your wounds. He was relieved to find nothing was broken or bleeding too profusely.

You wept quietly for a little while longer, letting all the fear and adrenaline wash over you and leave your system. He boiled some water for tea and offered you some stew that he’d also had for supper, which you took gratefully.

He started making a bed on the couch for you, but then he saw you almost jump out of your skin at the sound of thunder. He couldn’t blame your nerves for being all frayed after the accident.

“U-um, could I maybe…?” You started to ask, and he nodded immediately.

“You can sleep on the bed. I promise I will not do anything to you,” he said reassuringly. “We’ll see how it’s looking tomorrow. If the weather’s good, I could drive you into town to get a tow truck.”

You nodded, your body visibly sagging in relief. “I’m tired, I think I’m going to go to sleep now if that’s okay.”

You slid into his bed sheepishly, curling up with the extra blanket he had given you. He finished up some things before joining you, keeping a respectful distance — at least as much as his bed would allow.

“Thank you,” you said again, looking at his profile as he lay on his back. “I owe you my life.”

Those words hit him hard in the chest. After so long of being a harbinger of death, of wielding it so closely, it was a welcome reprieve to save someone.

You snuggled closer to him, searching his warmth in your semi-conscious state. He wrapped an arm around you, more than content to pretend he wasn’t completely alone at least for one night.

————