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marie-swriting · 1 year

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First-Second Date - Kate Bishop

Marvel Masterlist

Summary : You're at a Café waiting for Kate to show up to your first date.

Warnings : being stood up, misunderstanding, happy ending, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 1.9k

French version

Prompt : "B accidentally writes the wrong day down for their date, which inevitably causes them to unintentionally stand A up" 5th prompt from this prompt list made by @novelbear

Seated at a table in the Café near your University, you’re waiting for Kate. You met her at the beginning of your University year and got along instantly. Your feelings have quickly become romantic so after months of hesitation, you finally decided to ask her out on a date for the next Saturday. You were afraid she’d refuse at first in case she would only think of you as a friend, that's why you asked her by text. Kate had taken a few minutes to answer, too stunned to know you were attracted to her. When you received her positive response, you were filled with an intense joy. Now, it’s an intense anxiety that’s controlling your body. You arrived a bit earlier, too excited to hang out with Kate. Before leaving your place, you had sent her a message.

Text from you to Kate, 2:40 P.M. :

Are we still on for this afternoon ? 🥰

You still haven’t gotten a reply, but you reassure yourself by thinking she must be getting ready so she hasn’t had the time to check her phone yet. You just hope she’s going to text back as soon as she’s on her way, like this you’ll finally be able to relax. However, when ten minutes have passed since the time you had planned for your date, your stress gets a bit bigger. You wait five more minutes before taking your phone and texting her.

Text from you to Kate, 3:15 P.M. :

Hey, just wanted to know if you were on your way, we were supposed to meet at 3 🙂

You look at your phone for a few minutes but no answer is coming. You end up locking it up and ordering a refreshing drink, hoping it’ll help you to calm your nerves. Yet, when Kate is thirty minutes late, your worry is stronger. You start overthinking. You try to come up with every reason as to why she’d be late : maybe she hasn’t seen the time, maybe something more or less serious has happened or maybe she won’t come because she hadn’t dared to refuse your date. You strongly hope it’s not the latter. No, it can’t be the last option. You have been close with Kate since the day you met, you consider her as one of your best friends, she can’t not come on your date. Kate isn’t like that. Or is she ? You try to chase away those negative thoughts from your mind and with reluctance, you call her. You know you risk being categorised as the annoying girl but your worry is too strong to help you chill. Without any big surprise, Kate doesn’t answer. When the beep ending her voice message rings, you clear your throat.

“Hey, Kate, it’s me, Y/N. Huh, it’s almost 3:40 and you’re still not here and, huh, I got no response to my texts either,” you start, playing with the napkin from your table, “I just wanted to check if everything was okay. I’m still gonna wait for a bit, in case you’re simply late. But, huh, tell me if you want to reschedule. Call me back when you get this message,” you continue before waiting a few seconds, “See you.”

You hang up and put your phone down on the table. You finish your drink in one gulp before checking an umpteenth time at the Café’s entrance. In spite of yourself, every five minutes you look at your phone. You even turned it off and on, thinking maybe your phone wasn’t working correctly. It wasn’t the reason. Kate hasn’t just replied to you. Slowly, your anxiety turns into anger. It had taken you months to muster up your courage and ask her out, you were waiting for that moment impatiently. Now, you think you shouldn’t have asked her. Not only are you getting humiliated in public for almost an hour now but you’ve also lost a precious friendship. Fed up, you pay for your drink and leave the place without wasting any second. On the way, you call Kate one last time, in case she’d feel remorse and want to meet you. When her voicemail begins, you can’t help but sigh in frustration.

“Kate, it’s me, the girl you had a date with today.” you state, coldly, “I waited for you a whole hour and clearly you’re not about to show up so I left. You know, if you really didn’t want to come, you could just have told me ‘no’ instead of ignoring me and standing me up.” you finish, before hanging up mad.

You trot to your University bedroom, fists clenched. You can’t believe Kate did that to you. You would have never thought she’d be the kind of person to be disrespectful. It seems like you don’t know her as much as you thought.

During the whole night, you try to cool down by taking a shower, watching a TV-show and even spamming your best friend with messages to externalise all your emotions. What angers you the most is Kate’s silence. Usually, she replies to you in a few minutes, except when she has her training. However, she never does it after ten P.M., she could have answered you a long time ago. With difficulties, you finally fall asleep, not without checking your phone one last time.

When Monday comes, you go to class with one goal in mind : avoiding Kate as much as possible. After the silent treatment she’s been giving you, you ended up thinking she deleted your number and even blocked it. You thought your goal would be easy to achieve because Kate would still be ignoring you but she has actually tried to talk to you several times. Still mad at Kate, you go in the opposite direction as soon as you see her, even if it extends your way.

After two days of avoiding her like the plague, a small part of you wants to confront her to know the reason for her absence. This part started being too loud when your anger vanished away to leave the room for your inability to understand the situation. Besides, you’ve noticed Kate still tries to come to you, despite your silence. If she’s so eager to talk to you, maybe she had a good reason ? If so, why hasn't she still replied to your texts ?

You keep wondering why Kate is acting that way, not paying attention to what’s surrounding you while you’re walking to your bedroom. Suddenly, an obstacle is in front of you. Snapping out of your thoughts, you find Kate with an awkward smile on her face.

“Hey,” she starts but you stay silent, “is it me or have you been ignoring me since this Monday ? Are you mad ?”

“No, come on, why would I even be mad ?” you ask, ironically.

“Given the tone of your voice, I’m pretty sure you’re mad. What happened ? Did I do something I wasn’t supposed to ?” she questions, frowning.

You’re about to give her a piece of your mind when her telephone ringing cuts you off. You sigh in disbelief. Kate rapidly takes out her phone and hangs up without looking at the caller ID. Watching her do that, you wonder if it’s what she did last Saturday.

“Sorry.” Kate says, putting her phone away.

“Oh, so it does work !” you state with a fake surprised tone.

“What ?”

“Oh, nothing. For a moment I thought your phone wasn’t working anymore.”

“Yeah, about that,” she starts, confused, “I wanted to tell you about it. Could you give me your phone number again ? I lost it.”

“Lost it or deleted it ?”

“Ok, I’ve definitely missed some information here.”

“Well, when you don’t check your phone, that’s what usually happens.”

“I had some problems with my phone,” Kate explains, making your eyes roll. “It fell down while I was crosswalking and a car drove over it just after. I had to change it and buy a new SIM Card.”

“So that’s why you couldn’t come Saturday ?” you continue, coldly.

“Saturday ?”

“Don’t play stupid ! Our date, Kate. We were supposed to meet on Saturday and I waited for you for a whole hour, like an idiot.”

“What ?”, she exclaims before thinking for a second, “but we were supposed to meet next Saturday so the one that’s coming ! I even wrote it down on Google Agenda,” Kate adds before showing you her phone, “look !”

“No, we were supposed to see each other last Saturday but you would have known it if you had checked your phone.”

“Y/N, I promise you I’m not lying when I tell you I broke my phone.”

Noticing Kate keeps insisting, you start doubting. Maybe her story was true and everything was a big misinterpretation. Maybe she didn’t stand you up intentionally.

“It happened last Friday that’s why I couldn’t get your text.”, she specifies, “I swear it to you ! I would have never stood you up. I’m excited about our date. I mean, I was excited, I guess.” Kate corrects herself, thinking about it for a second, “I genuinely believed it was this Saturday, the one that’s coming and I’ve been trying to talk to you the past few days to get your number’s back as I lost it. Everything is a misunderstanding ! Tell me when you’re available, we’ll do our date as soon as possible and promise, this time I’ll write it down correctly and I will be there.”

“So you’re telling the truth ?” you checked again, sceptical.

“I’d be willing to call my mom at this very minute to prove it to you, even if she has an important meeting.”

You take a few seconds to think about the new information. In the end, for you, her story seems closer to the Kate you know rather than the one who didn’t show up for your date. After all, even if Kate is precise when she’s holding a bow and arrows, the rest of the time, she’s quite clumsy. In addition to Kate’s voice, you could tell she was being genuine.

“I believe you.” you end up saying.

“Sorry for not showing up, no matter if it was accidental or not.”

“I’m sorry I snapped at you. I just like you a lot and I was so excited about our date and stressed, too. I was afraid my feelings were unrequited and you only said ‘yes’ because you had pity for me so when I wasn’t seeing you coming, I thought you were ignoring me, deliberately. I thought you didn’t care about me.”

“No, I promise you it’s not that, Y/N”, Kate refutes putting her hand on your forearm. “I meant it when I accepted your date, I care about you. I feel bad knowing you thought I had bad intentions when I actually was waiting for that moment since the day we met.”

“It’s not your fault. I know it now. I should have talked to you Monday instead of ignoring you.” you repeat, feeling guilty for jumping into conclusions.

“You had every right to be mad. You didn’t know what happened.” she reassures you. “So, we’re still on for that first-second date ? You still want us to go to one ?”

“If you promise to not do something similar a second time then yes”, you laugh.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”, Kate answers chuckling, “What if we didn’t wait ?”, she suddenly asks, “I mean, we don’t have any more classes, we’re together, we might as well go to that Café now, don’t you think ?”

“I’d love to.” you smile.

Kate’s lips take the shape of an idiotic smile when she feels your hand in hers. She tightens her grips while you’re guiding her to the Café. You’re both full of joy, you’re finally able to go on your first-second date.

Marvel Masterlist

{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

#marie swriting in english #mcu fanfiction #mcu fandom #mcu imagine #mcu oneshot #marvel mcu #mcu marvel avengers #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x you #kate bishop #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x fem!reader #kate bishop oneshot #kate bishop hawkeye #kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop fic #kate bishop x female reader

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thessalian · 2 months

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Thess vs Big Brother

For those of you who aren't aware (because I know a lot of you are USian or at least not being here in the UK, and there's a lot going on right now), there have been some ... issues ... in the UK the last little while. And by "issues", I mean "alt-right riots". Supposedly rallies, but y'know. More are expected over the weekend. I will be staying indoors as much as possible, even though I did have plans to be Out And About at least a little this weekend. A nearby borough already had its bits of violence not all that long ago, and that was severely under-reported. If anyplace else in London is going to have some of that shit (because Whitehall, while it makes a statement, isn't a place where you'll find mosques or businesses run by non-white people the way, say, Clapham or Peckham or most of outer London), it'll be in that borough. Those who are now having to call themselves "anti-racists", since all of the other terms for "not an asshole" have been turned into insults, are planning counter-protests. So ... yeah. Riots.

The reason for this particular blog entry title is what our relatively new PM, Kier Starmer, wants to do about it. What he wants to do is expand the use of live facial recognition technology. Which, because we're not in the EU anymore and we left before the EU laws we had to write into our own human rights record could catch up with the technology, is a highly under-regulated technology. Hell, Starmer suggested this expanded use of facial recognition on the same day that the EU passed a law largely banning the use of facial recognition software.

Please understand that this is talking about shit like checking whether someone's on the Naughty List before they're allowed to so much as board a train, and phrases like, "where there are reasonable grounds to suspect that the individual depicted is about to cause an offense". Emphasis mine, because we already know that five people got arrested and sentenced to years in jail just for talking about a protest on fucking Zoom. Stuff like this could be used to go, say, "Well, this guy was under suspicion of planning a protest, and he wants to go to Liverpool; he shouldn't be allowed to go and cause trouble in Liverpool, so he is not allowed on the train".

Combine live facial recognition technology (which already struggles with identifying Black people) and the various recent bills that allow for much greater stop-and-search powers, and no legal restrictions on how this can be used? It's a fucking human rights nightmare. We've already got voter ID; apparently shit like this amounts to having a national ID scheme. Except instead of some jackboot-wearing asshole asking to see your papers, they'll just point a bodycam at you and let you hope to hell that it doesn't read your face wrong. Or right, honestly. We've thrown "innocent until proven guilty" out the fucking window because they don't even wait until you've done anything.

And this is the response to white supremacist assholes rioting, attacking mosques, and stabbing thirteen people at a dance class. "Let's implement a solution that will most negatively affect the people these white supremacist assholes are actually attacking! YAAAAAAY!"

Fuck this country. Fuck it right in the ear. And fuck Labour. Then again, the Tories would probably have been worse at this point. Though I wonder how the white supremacist assholes would have felt with Rishi Sunak, who is not exactly white, still being Prime Minister. Then again, they'd have preferred Farage, who is not quite encouraging violence this weekend but is saying that it's an inevitability and will only get worse. On Formerly-Twitter. It's the fascist asshole's tacit permission, and we all know it. Especially the people who will use it as such and throw a brick through some poor shopkeeper's window. Or worse.

This place scares me and I can't complain to my mother because she very much believes in "if you've got nothing to hide, you've got nothing to fear" and supports things like banning face coverings and the like Because Terrorism. Then again, she lost so many friends on 9/11 and I sometimes think that got to her in ways she hasn't really tried to explore in, say, therapy. Me? I believe until innocent until proven guilty, and too much of this doesn't really seem to care if you're guilty, and while it's being talked about in the context of alt-right riots, you know that's not how it'll be used long-term.

*whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine*

#Thess on politics #Thess vs Labour

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monstroso · 10 months

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still thinking about Daria

in some ways I'm glad I never watched Daria as a teenager. I don't know that at 16 I would have been able to take away from it the things about it that I like so much now as an adult. that said, in some ways I do feel like it would have done me some good.

a little over a week ago I had expressed to @djangodurango that I often feel uncomfortable giving feedback on art/writing to people I don't know well and who haven't explicitly asked for anything aside from an acknowledgement that I've seen it. This is because, I said, people often take my feedback to heart. Even an offhand (and not even necessarily negative) remark in the past has been enough to discourage people from continuing on their work and, I said, I was tired of wielding that kind of responsibility. So unless I have a glowing endorsement to dispense, I usually don't say anything at all.

Of course, bringing it up with her only made me think more about why that might be. Why *do* people take what I say so seriously? Why should the opinion of one person have so much weight? Why my opinion specifically? "I'm just saying stuff," I believe were my exact words. "There's no reason for people to feel like they need to cater to me. I'm just Some Guy!"

After ruminating on it for a while, the only conclusion I could come to was that my opinion must hold more weight than I'd initially thought. I came back to DJ with the results of my findings. "People must think highly of what I have to say. They must respect my opinion." It doesn't make any sense, but there it is. I can't control what people think of me, only my own actions. I decided I was right to have been careful with my feedback these past few years, even if I didn't understand people's reasoning.

And then we watched the last Daria movie, Is It College Yet?. It's really good, a nearly perfect ending to a show that concretely had something to say to its audience. I'm so glad I watched it. But the thing that really caught my attention was a scene right at the end.

For context, Daria's been trying to get Jane to apply to an art college, something Jane has written off because she got rejected from the lower-end state schools she applied to first. Daria's spent the entire movie trying to push Jane through her doubts, telling her over and over again that her work is *good* and fear of rejection shouldn't stop her from trying, even as Daria herself is struggling with the same problem in her own college application process as well as her conflicted feelings about her impending breakup with her boyfriend, Tom.

When the breakup inevitably happens, Tom asks if Daria ever had any warm feelings towards him at all. Daria, a little shocked, says that of course she did! That she liked being with him and that the experience was good and worth having, that Tom is smart and funny and kind and she thinks he's a great guy. The breakup is happening because they're not at a place in their lives where them dating makes sense anymore, not because she doesn't like Tom as a person. Tom, reassured, says that he's always respected Daria's opinion, to which Daria seems surprised. When she tells Jane this later, with a kind of 'can you believe it? He values *my* opinion?' attitude, Jane agrees. She says she respects Daria's opinion so much that she went ahead and applied to the art school even in the face of her own doubts and the cold shoulder from her older brother. And she got accepted!

And it was at this point that I went "Heeeey, wait a minute-" and DJ started laughing at me.

"Why is Daria learning this lesson I only just learned myself a few days ago, DJ?" I asked. "You're in this show, and you don't like it," she teased me back, using my own joke against me.

Anyway, I dont have anything else to add here really, just still thinking about it. Daria's good.

#i need a new text post tag i guess

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harmony-of-the-gospels · 1 year

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Jesus—#56 “Blessing the Children”

Chapter 56: BLESSING THE CHILDREN

Read: MATTHEW 19:13-15; MARK 10:13-16; LUKE 18:15-17

1. How did Jesus relate to children? (511)

Young Children

“Jesus loved children. He accepted their childish sympathy and open, sincere love. The grateful praise from their lips refreshed His spirit when contact with crafty and hypocritical men oppressed Him. Wherever He went, His gentle, kindly manner won their confidence.”

All His Children (All Ages)

“The Saviour regards with infinite tenderness the souls whom He has purchased with His own blood. They are the claim of His love. He looks upon them with unutterable longing. His heart is drawn out, not only to the best-behaved children, but to those who have by inheritance objectionable traits of character. Many parents do not understand how much they are responsible for these traits in their children. They have not the tenderness and wisdom to deal with the erring ones whom they have made what they are. But Jesus looks upon these children with pity. He traces from cause to effect.”

(// ik in most cases, parents, like any other imperfect human beings did wrong and their children picked up on those, it stayed with them, and they inevitably became their parents. Exp: children who come from abusive homes. BUT in many other unknown statistically possible happenings to this type of problem is that, the kids will turn out even better than their parents – they managed to break the cycle and become a completely different person without any of the strikingly negative traits of their parents. It’s possible and I’ve seen it.

So is it entirely up to the parents? I think not. The individual has a lot to do with this as well. If there’s even a sliver of hope to get away from this ungodly household and the abusive environment, and that individual decided to go for it, brave himself or herself to make an escape for good, everything could change.

But what if it was a very hopeless situation? There are cases like these as well. All that individual can do is turn to God and hope for a miracle to happen because no matter how hard that person tries, his/her ordeals never end… until that person succumb to his/her injuries and dies… What can a little child do in that situation? There’s only so much that little frail body can take until it turns cold and lifeless for all the beatings and abuses… In situations like this, the people from the other side of the world can only hear the news of this individual’s passing and think, and pray about it because there’s not much we can do after that because it’s too late.

If it’s happening to you and you’re reading this, I hope you’ll find the help you need and be brave to take actions, God will fight for you when you call His Name, He’ll get you through it. If you know someone who’s going through this, I hope you don’t just pray about it, but also take courage and do something especially when that victim is asking for your help, be brave, God will be with you.

Back to the question here. If the parents are ungodly but the children are drawn to Christ, will they fully not adopt their parents’ traits? imo, there will be some learned traits that will stuck with you until you choose not to BE and change it. I believe all characters can be learned and unlearned for not only your own benefits but others as well)

2. How did the disciples relate to children? (511)

“When the mothers came to Jesus with their little ones, the disciples were not receptive. They thought these children were too young to benefit from a visit to Jesus, and they concluded that He would be displeased.”

3. When Jesus saw the disciples send away the mothers, what was His response? (512)

“He was displeased”,

“He waited to see how the disciples would treat them. When He saw them send the mothers away, He showed them their error, saying, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of heaven.” He took the children in His arms and gave them the blessing for which they came.”

4. How are today's mothers "to receive" Jesus' "words with the same faith" as the ones in His day? (512)

“The words of Christ strengthened the mothers and encouraged them to take up their burden with new cheerfulness. The mothers of today are to receive His words with the same faith. Christ is a personal Savior. He is as truly the helper of mothers today as when He gathered the little ones in His arms in Judea.”

“As the mother teaches her children to obey her because they love her, she is teaching them the first lesson in the Christian life. The mother’s love represents to the child the love of Christ, and the little ones who trust and obey their mother are learning to trust and obey the Savior.”

5. Give the ways in which Jesus will deal with the burdens and perplexities of a mother's life. (512)

“Jesus knows the burden of every mother’s heart. He made a long journey to relieve the anxious heart of a Canaanite woman. He gave back to the widow of Nain her only son, and in His agony on the cross He remembered His own mother. He is touched today by the mother’s sorrow. In every grief and need, He will give comfort and help.

He who said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them” still invites mothers to lead their little ones to Him for blessing. Even the baby in its mother’s arms may live under the shadow of the Almighty through the faith of the praying mother. John the Baptist was filled with the Holy Spirit from his birth. If we will live in communion with God, we too may expect the divine Spirit to mold our little ones, even from their earliest moments.”

6. Describe what Jesus saw for the futures of the children brought to Him. (512)

“Jesus saw that some of the children who were brought in contact with Him would become martyrs for His sake. These children would accept Him as their Redeemer far more readily than many grown-up people would. The Majesty of heaven answered their questions and simplified His important lessons to meet their childish understanding.”

7. What ways did He use to reach the children's minds? (515)

8. How should parents relate to their children so they are receptive to the gospel? (515)

Mothers

Fathers

“Jesus was also the father’s example. His word had power, yet even with rude and violent men He did not use one unkind or discourteous expression. The grace of Christ in the heart will soften whatever is harsh and subdue everything that is coarse and unkind.”

Parents (General)

Ask Jesus for Forgiveness of Sins and Believe His Pardon

“Fathers and mothers should look on their children as younger members of the Lord’s family whom God has committed to them to educate for heaven. The Christian home becomes a school, with the parents as underteachers and Christ Himself the Chief Instructor.

We should teach our children to bring their sins to Jesus, asking forgiveness and believing that He pardons them, just as He received the children when He was personally on earth.”

Teach about Christ by Relating to Nature (Using Object Lessons)

“Teach the children to see Christ in nature. Take them out into the open air, under the noble trees, into the garden. In all the wonderful works of creation, teach them to see His love. He made the laws that govern all living things, and He has made laws for our happiness and joy. Do not weary them with long prayers and tiresome lectures, but through nature’s object lessons teach them to obey the law of God.”

“Parents, in training your children, study the lessons God has given in nature. If you want to train a rose or lily, how do you do it? Ask the gardener how he makes every branch and leaf develop in symmetry and loveliness. He will tell you: it was by no harsh touch, no violent effort. This would only break the delicate stems. It was by little attentions, often repeated. He moistened the soil and protected the growing plants from the fierce winds and scorching sun, and God caused them to blossom into loveliness. By gentle touches, seek to fashion the characters of your children after the pattern of the character of Christ.”

Accepting Christ as their Savior

“As you try to make plain the truths of salvation, point the children to Christ as a personal Savior. Angels will be by your side. The Lord will give grace to fathers and mothers to interest their little ones in the precious story of the Baby in Bethlehem.”

Lead by Example (Through Behavior) and Treat Others the Way You Want to Be Treated

“Do not keep the little ones away from Jesus by being cold and harsh. Never give them cause to feel that heaven will not be a pleasant place if you are there. Do not speak of religion as something that children cannot understand. Do not give the false impression that the religion of Christ is a religion of gloom, and that in coming to the Savior they must give up everything that makes life joyful.”

“It will lead fathers and mothers to treat their children as they themselves would like to be treated.”

Encourage the Expressions of Love

“Encourage the expression of love toward God and toward one another. The reason why there are so many hard-hearted men and women in the world is that true affection has been discouraged and repressed. Parents and perhaps others stifled the better nature of these persons in childhood. Unless divine love melts away their cold selfishness, their happiness will be forever ruined. If we want our children to possess the tender spirit of Jesus, we must encourage the generous, loving impulses of childhood.”

Work With the Holy Spirit. Teach the Children to Listen, Answer and Follow the Guide (Holy Spirit)

“As the Holy Spirit moves upon the hearts of the children, co-operate with His work. Teach them that the Saviour is calling them, that nothing can give Him greater joy than for them to give themselves to Him in the bloom and freshness of their years.”

9. "In working for the conversion of our children, ___ _______ ____ _____ ____ ________ ________ as the __________ _________ of ___________ of

_____. ____ is it __________ to _____ the ______ _____ _____ they are

__________." (515)

“In working for the conversion of our children, we should not look for violent emotion as the essential evidence of conviction of sin. Nor is it necessary to know the exact time when they are converted. We should teach them to bring their sins to Jesus, asking His forgiveness, and believing that He pardons and receives them as He received the children when He was personally on earth.”

10. How is Jesus the parent's example? (515)

11. What lessons can we learn from a gardener that can be applied to the treatment of children? (516)

12. "Encourage the ___________ of _____ _______ ____ and _______ ____ ________." (516)

“Encourage the expression of love toward God and toward one another.”

13. Why are there "so many hardhearted men and women in the world?" (516)

“The reason why there are so many hard-hearted men and women in the world is that true affection has been discouraged and repressed. Parents and perhaps others stifled the better nature of these persons in childhood. Unless divine love melts away their cold selfishness, their happiness will be forever ruined. If we want our children to possess the tender spirit of Jesus, we must encourage the generous, loving impulses of childhood.”

14. How can we teach "children to see Christ in nature?" (516)

“Take them out into the open air, under the noble trees, into the garden. In all the wonderful works of creation, teach them to see His love. He made the laws that govern all living things, and He has made laws for our happiness and joy.”

15. How must we NOT represent and teach the children about Jesus? (517)

“Do not weary them with long prayers and tiresome lectures, but through nature’s object lessons teach them to obey the law of God.”

16. By what means is a "Christian worker" to draw "children to the Saviour?" (517)

“The Christian worker may be Christ’s agent in drawing these children to the Saviour. By wisdom and tact he may bind them to his heart, he may give them courage and hope, and through the grace of Christ may see them transformed in character, so that of them it may be said, “Of such is the kingdom of God.”

#DAGuide

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666writingcafe · 2 years

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MC slaps the Boys ass!!!! What happens next?????

Scenario: Michael's decided to have Luke stay with him in the Celestial Realm for a few days, and so Solomon suggests that everyone meets up at the House of Purgatory for a game of truth or date. Of course, alcohol's involved, and soon everyone's a bit drunk, including MC. Solomon takes advantage of MC's tipsiness to dare them to go around and slap each of the men's asses as hard as they can with their hands.

I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but I thought it would make things more interesting.

This borders on NSFW, so if that's not something you're not in the mood for, then you don't have to keep reading.

Unfortunately for Mammon, he's the first person whose ass MC slaps. As soon as their hand touches his butt, he yelps and runs out of the room, holding his bottom as he heads in the direction of the restroom. MC definitely slapped him harder than he was expecting, and as he composes himself in the bathroom, he vows to never have MC slap his ass again.

Next up is Levi. Like Mammon, he squeals, but unlike his brother, he doesn't run away but instead remains standing as he processes what just happened. The intensity of MC's slap does something to him, and his mind begins imagining a roleplay situation where MC dresses up like Lady Dimitrescu, ties him to his bed, and slaps his bare ass multiple times. This scenario makes his dick grow hard, for he's not only an otaku, but a kinky submissive (but only for MC).

Diavolo simply laughs when his ass gets slapped. This certainly is not his first rodeo, for he's been both the receiver and giver of ass slaps. He knows a few beings that can go harder, but he's also impressed by the sting that MC's hand leaves behind. "Not bad for a human," he thinks as he sits back down and MC eyes the next person. "Perhaps I can give them a few pointers."

Belphie's already bored as he stands up for MC. He wouldn't have dared them to do this, because he thinks it's pretty juvenile. Nevertheless, he cooperates for MC, and once MC's slapped his ass, he calmly sits back down. The reason that he doesn't react is because he doesn't want to give Solomon that sort of satisfaction. Besides, he knows that MC will allow him to get back at them later when they're alone.

Satan, on the other hand? To say that he's not pleased with this is an understatement. Doesn't Solomon know that he reacts negatively to people hitting him? He knows that MC's not responsible for the dare, so he stands up and waits for the inevitable. Once the deed is done, though, he storms out of the room, shifting to his demon form as he walks away. Solomon will pay for this later.

As the athlete of the family, Beel's used to getting his ass slapped by fellow teammates in the locker room as they're getting changed. Granted, they used towels and not their hands, but it's essentially the same thing. The sting that MC leaves behind is not any worse than that of a towel whip, and so Beel sits back down and continues eating his food.

The room grows silent as Lucifer stands up next. Everyone knows that he will lash out at someone if they do something he doesn't like, even when he appears slaphappy from being drunk. So, they're surprised when, instead of yelling at MC or leaving the room, he dares their darling human to hit him harder. Did the Avatar of Pride, infamous sadist, enjoy having MC slap his ass? (Spoiler alert: he totally did.)

Asmo thinks that he's got this in the bag. People slap his ass all the time; MC shouldn't be any different. Oh, is he humbled real quick. Once the deed is done, he appears frozen in place for a few seconds before he slowly walks away from everyone. No one's ever slapped him that hard, and he needs some time to process how a mere human managed that kind of strength. Does he like it? Does he not? Who knows? Certainly not him in this moment, that's for sure.

The thing about Barbatos that most of the group doesn't know is that he's used to a certain Demon Prince drunkenly slapping his ass. He doesn't know why the Young Lord does this, but he doesn't question him for doing it. Since he doesn't want to damage his master's reputation by letting this information slip, he lets the others assume that the reason he doesn't react to MC's slap is because he's always in butler mode and can't entirely relax, even when he is under the influence of alcohol.

The idea of someone slapping his ass is completely foreign to Simeon, since that just isn't something angels do in the Celestial Realm. He is curious about the sensation, so he goes along with the dare, not wanting to upset anybody by chickening out. When MC brings their hand down, he finds the experience not entirely unpleasant, but he isn't sure if he wants to repeat it again. He smiles at MC as he sits back down, mulling over what just happened in his mind.

Finally, there's Solomon. MC makes sure to slap him the hardest as payback for making them do this stupid dare, and they make him momentarily lose his balance. The group laughs as he turns around and marvels at MC's ability. He knows that they're not exactly happy with him, but he also wouldn't mind if they did it again to him sometime in the future.

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salemwritesxx · 3 years

Text

𝓷𝓸 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰.

𝔹 𝔸 𝕂 𝕌 𝔾 𝕆 𝕌 𝕂 𝔸 𝕋 𝕊 𝕌 𝕂 𝕀

⇴ male reader [pro-hero] ⇴ all characters are depicted as [18]+

↳ summary: You are Katsuki’s little secret, since he can’t be open about your relationship. Inevitably, all falls apart eventually when you want to attend the pride parade in Tokyo and you want Bakugou to come with you.

↣ rating: general audiences ↣ warnings: bakugou being insecure about his sexuality, an argument/fight break-up in the beginning but fluffy at the end, coming out, fluff

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

“I just don’t understand why you won’t come with me?!”

“You know damn fucking well why!”, Katsuki argued back, his already loud voice reaching it’s peak. You had been fighting for quite some time.

“I just don’t know why the fuck you keep being so… stubborn! UGH!”, you really had to hold yourself back to not punch the next wall, thus you went away from the situation into the living room. Katsuki, however, following you immediately.

“You knew when we started dating that I… I can’t be open about this stuff!”, he screamed again, though became quieter at the end. His stiff shoulders relaxing a little when he sighed.

“Why can’t you understand and fucking respect that??”

“Look!”, you suddenly stood up again, meeting him eye to eye, “I understand, okay?! I know not everyone can be open, but fuck- Katsuki. It’s been almost a year since we started dating??”

You sighed and rubbed over your face before falling back into the couch.

“I just thought this time around I could already openly show my affection towards you.”

Bakugou felt guilty and bad. He knew he wasn’t easy to date. Always being cautious no one would see or notice. Always hiding. Just so no one would find out Bakugou Katsuki was into men. He knew he hurt you.

“I’m sorry, okay? But I can’t…”, he barely mumbled, then also sighed.

“Okay. Fine.”, and Bakugou really thought that’s it when you said that, but…

“And I am sorry but I can’t continue this relationship.”

And it truly was like someone punched him in his face and kicked him in his balls all at the same time.

“Wha- Wai- I- What?”, he stammered, ruby eyes widened.

“You heard me. I’m sorry. But I am done being treated like your dirty little secret.”, you said, and with that, you stood up and walked past him.

----

“HEEYY BRO!”, your friend shouted while semi-walking and kind of dancing towards you with two alcoholic drinks in his hand.

The music was loud. The temperature gruesome. But seeing so many people, proud and happy, made you also happy. It was also a nice way to try and forget what happened last week, the inevitable break up with your boyfriend… and you really thought you could give him strength to come out eventually.

“Thanks, Aki.”, you said, more shouted against the music, when he gave you something to drink.

While faking a small smile, you watched as he danced back into the crowd as you just walked on the sidelines, wishing that you could have brought Bakugou with you and just enjoy this moment. How much you yearned to just drink and be cute with your boyfriend during this parade so everyone could see and he wouldn’t care.

But it wasn’t that simple and it wasn’t your responsibility to force him out of the closet. But… it WAS your responsibility to do what was best for yourself and you knew you couldn’t keep on waiting.

Bakugou knew he had to do something. He loved you. And he wasn’t willing to give up on you or the relationship you had. Katsuki wanted to be together with you. He also knew very well that he shouldn’t be hiding anymore. He had been scared people wouldn’t want to be saved by him anymore, that his career as a hero would die if he was open about his sexuality, but… you had always been open. And yet, you were, just like him, in the Top Ten of Japan’s Pro-Heroes and there had never been an instance where someone commented on your sexuality negatively.

Maybe, he just lied to himself. People were much more accepting, even praising you for being an idol to young queer kids. But, for him, not wanting people to know you were together was safer than having to break up and explain things, yet… Katsuki was ready to get you back and tell everyone he loved you. No more hiding. No more lies. Just being honest and open and vulnerable.

But for god’s sake getting through this fucking crowd was almost impossible.

“Fucking Jesus, where the hell are you?!”, he growled to himself while hastily looking around. So many people. How did he think he was able to find you in such a big parade?

And it was so damn hot, too. Ugh! Why couldn’t he realize all of these things a few days ago, then he could have easily walked up to your door and talk to you, but no. Then again, Bakugou DID want to prove to you he was ready to change, so there was no better place than during this parade. Though, if he couldn’t find you, everything was in vain.

“KitKat…”

When he heard those words, a jolt went through his body, making Katsuki stand there stiffly for a few seconds, just to slowly turn around in the end. There was only one person who was able to utter this nickname without getting murdered.

You stared at him in disbelief just as much as he stared back at you with wide eyes and in shock. He wasn’t prepared to suddenly be found and not be the one finding you.

“What are you do-“, you wanted to ask, however, were interrupted by Bakugou sprinting towards you and into your arms. And it felt right holding him again – fuck.

“Wait, Kat-“

But before you could say anymore, he had grabbed your neck and pulled you towards him, connecting your lips in the middle of the streets while people were walking past you. Some even cheering and howling while doing so.

It was just a short kiss, before he pulled back to look into your [eye.color] eyes.

“I love you, [Your.name]. And I’m sorry. I know you deserve better, like fuck, look at me. I am trash.”

“You’re hot trash though.”, you teased him with a grin, thankfully making him snort and playfully punch you.

“I will be open. No more hiding. Life’s too fucking short to worry about what others think. Sorry it took so long to understand. Can you forgive me?”

The music was still blasting, the crowd cheering, yet, you heard him perfectly and it really warmed your heart. Thus, with a smile on your lips, you nodded.

“Yeah. Forgiven and Forgotten.”

So, you pulled him closer, your arms wrapped around his smaller frame as your lips collided once more, not caring about anything or anyone other than the man in your arms. And for Bakugou it wasn’t any different. He had never cared about anyone before, about their presumptions about him becoming a villain with his quirk, or him not being suited to be a hero, so why was he so hung up about being gay? Fuck it if anyone knew.

He wasn’t going to hide in any closet ever again.

And as he grabbed your hand to march alongside you while singing and drinking – Katsuki knew it was the right decision and he would never regret it.

---

The next morning, he found himself hugged against your body while your head was snuggled into his pecs, which elicit a small snort from him. Yeah… waking up like that was something he had missed the last week. As he looked to the side though, Katsuki saw his phone blinking and lighting up wildly – something was going on.

And soon, he found out what had been going on. His agency was calling and he was tagged in way too many Twitter posts, because someone had snapped a photo of him and you yesterday during the pride parade, embraced and kissing. This was now going around the internet. But for once, he didn’t give a fuck about it.

Instead, he fueled the fire when he flopped back into the bed and snapped a photo of himself, flipping them off and with you visibly cuddling him. His caption: Just woke up like this. Happy Pride Month, fuckers!

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

⇻ salem.talks: happy pride month y’all, let’s be loud and proud of who we are 🌈 usually I believe baku wouldn’t give two fucks about what others think about him, but for the sake of this story I might have made him a bit ooc

#salemswriting.#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x male reader #bnha x male reader #bakugou x you #gay pride #male reader

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elysianslove · 3 years

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Please wrote more surrogate fics please . could I request one with SakuAtsu or could you just start a series on these. If you'd me comfortable with that. That on IwaOi surrogate fic brought me so much joy. I can't even describe it.

oh my goodness i’d love to!!! it makes me so happy knowing you liked it cause like,,, idk why it’s just special to me :) also im so glad you asked for sakuatsu bc these two ships are basically my favorite jhfgbsj. and yesyes i’d love to have a mini series with like little scenarios of each ship <333

this was insanely long. like insanely.

content warning; artificial insemination, pregnancy, haikyuu manga spoilers, gay people being happy idk

being iwaoi’s surrogate

BEING SAKUATSU’S SURROGATE

↬ it took forever to even get them together, so with a duo as indecisive as them, it’s imaginable how long the decision to raise a child together took. it took a long, long while for that transition from enemies to lovers to be final, and even then, they hadn’t realized how serious their relationship was until they were off getting married and then suddenly wanting a child?

↬ it was something atsumu brought up out of the blue, just casually as they sat side by side on the couch. “wouldn’t it be nice if we raised a child together?” and it stuck with sakusa ever since. he didn’t know why he was obsessively thinking about it as much, but it’s all he could think about. literally. anytime he so much as thought about atsumu with a child, and a child of their own too, his stomach did a thousand and one flips. sakusa was never the biggest fan of children, and he knew that neither was atsumu. but, this would be different, wouldn’t it? Still, he tried to remind himself of the cons; they were pro-athletes, they didn’t have time, they didn’t understand the weight of the responsibility, were they even ready for something like that? somedays it was too tiring to take care of themselves, of each other. were they ready to be responsible for a whole life, someone dependent entirely on them? it seemed too— unrealistic. like something he could only hope to dream about, and just dream about.

↬ until he thought of atsumu with a little kid, a spit image of either one of them, sitting on his lap, giggling and laughing and squealing in glee. and so he decided, there will always be cons, he just has to see if the pros outweighed them. and honestly, they did. they were pro-athletes, sure, but that also meant they were financially stable, and could provide for a child, properly. they were mature now, knew each other very well, and had adapted to living with one another. they had family and friends all around. the kid would for sure grow up loved and cared for, and him and atsumu would add another person to their family. it really seemed like a dream, but this time, an attainable one.

↬ so as he ate dinner with his lover, he blurted out, “let’s raise a child together,” and atsumu honest to god choked on his food. he asked sakusa if he was serious, if he meant it, if this was real, and sakusa’s answer was yes to every single one of his question. yes, he was serious; yes, he meant it; yes, this was real. as real as can be.

↬ they both already knew they wanted a surrogate, and it didn’t matter who was the father. so long as the child was theirs.

↬ finding a surrogate was, well, a pain, to put it into perspective. sakusa was so picky about the “requirements,” if you will, and atsumu was suspicious of every single woman, it was kind of ridiculous really. he just “didn’t trust that they wouldn’t run away with the baby!” in his words. atsumu suggested sakusa’s older sister, which seemed perfect in his head, but sakusa refused, claiming it was 1. extremely weird, and 2. he doubted she’d say yes, with her own life to handle.

↬ and it finally, finally, came to atsumu: he could always just ask, well, you. he had met you during his college years, and since then, he’d been coincidentally crossing paths with you ever since then, and you’d even managed their msby jackals team at some point. it was weirdly ironic how he’s coming back to you, kind of like fate.

↬ so he suggested it to sakusa, and for once, the latter didn’t really have any way to object, except, “what if this inconveniences her?” other than that, you were the perfect candidate. they knew you well, trusted you, knew they could rely on you. and atsumu was sure you wouldn’t run with the baby. with regards to the inconvenience part, well, they could always just deal with that when the time came.

↬ they invited you over for some breakfast two days later, after they’d thought about it properly, endlessly, and figured you were their best option. it was weird seeing them so nervous when you first arrived, like they were breaking up with you or something. atsumu barely ate with how nauseous he felt, and sakusa spent the entire time watching you eat instead, hands fidgeting and legs shaking. it was really weird, but you didn’t bring it up, letting them take their own time to tell you whatever it was they wanted to tell you, because obviously, they clearly had something to say.

↬ after breakfast, you sat in their living room, just watching the tv quietly, until sakusa offered to get you some water. you weren’t really thirsty, but you agreed anyways, unsurprised to see atsumu rise from his own seat a minute later with a, “be right back,” as he headed to the kitchen. you could hear them bickering and whisper-yelling, and if you weren’t starting to grow as nervous as they were, you would’ve had it in you to laugh. they returned looking like they were bearing the most daunting of news, sitting down on the couch perpendicular to you. atsumu’s hands were sweaty and intertwined tightly together, while sakusa tried to remain as composed as possible. it seemed like the dark haired man would speak up, finally, parting his mouth with a deep breath.

↬ but it’s atsumu that blurts out, “please have my baby!— our baby. please have our baby.”

↬ honestly, your first response was to laugh, in disbelief, as you clutch your glass of water. but then you see their faces — god they looked so goddamn scared — and you realized that, they were really serious. they really wanted you to carry their baby for them. holy shit?—

↬ you were mostly speechless after that, stuttering as you ask them to please explain, you’re honored but are they are, have they thought about this? properly? in depth?

↬ to your surprise, they really knew what they were doing. they’d done their research, and thought about a million other options before deciding that you were the best one. they also repeatedly told you that you didn’t have to do this, and that they didn’t want to guilt-trip you into doing it either. they wanted you to say yes only if you yourself wanted to say yes, and if this wouldn’t negatively affect you or halt your life in any way. you were the one that was going to be carrying the baby anyways, weren’t you? at the end of the day, this was all about you.

↬ you asked them for time to think about it, and reminded them that it wasn’t a no. you just wanted to make sure you were making the right decision whichever that ended up being. a few days later, you call them, asking them to meet up one way or another, and atsumu’s even more nervous than he was asking you; not even sakusa’s gentle lips to his temple or large hands soothingly rubbing at his back or his kind words could help him. sakusa himself was insanely anxious. in his head, it seemed like your ‘no,’ would finalize everything. that it would really mean no hope in having a child of their own, their very own.

↬ you invite them over to your home, and the kettle is already boiling when they arrive. you make them tea and make small talk if only to delay the inevitable. but, to each of their surprises, you take a deep breath and say, “i’d be honored to carry your baby for you,” with the brightest, warmest smile. sakusa has to bite his inner cheek to will himself to not cry, because he can’t believe you said yes. you agreed. you’re going to carry their baby. him and atsumu were having a baby.

↬ atsumu doesn’t stop himself from throwing his arms around you, collapsing on top of you in tight hug that you kind of can’t breathe, but you let him, and you laugh when he thanks you for saying yes, that he’ll “be forever in your debt.”

↬ it’s the happiest you’ve seen either of them.

↬ when you’re done with the process of insemination (of course, atsumu does joke that the three of you should go the natural way and have a threesome, to which he earns a smack from his lover and a smack from you, at the same time), the three of you just have to wait, really. it’s the longest period of waiting you’ve ever had to do, but you try to be patient, as patient as you can be. when you wake up one morning and throw up, you look at your period tracking app to see if maybe you were pms’ing. except, you weren’t. you were late. like a good three weeks late.

↬ immediately, you’re booking a doctor’s appointment. you wait to tell sakusa and atsumu after confirming your suspicions, because you don’t want to raise their hopes up for nothing. they’ve already been swimming in a pool of doubts ever since the insemination, calling you everyday to check up on you and ask for any progress. when the doctor confirms your pregnancy — holy shit you were pregnant — the first thing you do is go over to their house. you know it’s not the best idea to show up unannounced, but with how long they’ve been waiting, and how much they’ve been wanting this, the more and more you fed into it, you couldn’t wait any longer to tell them. you arrive, and the moment sakusa opens the door for you, you gasp out, “i’m pregnant.”

↬ sakusa’s quite literally frozen in shock, his mouth pressed in a thin line with eyes wide open, while atsumu walks over and goes, “oh hey,” in greeting before noticing sakusa’s face and just ???? “what’s going on?”

↬ “i’m pregnant.”

↬ “you’re what?”

↬ you show them with tears stinging your eyes the results of the test you’d taken at the doctor’s, and atsumu grips the report so tightly, like it’ll disappear if it slips only slightly from his hands. sakusa’s still in shock, trying to process everything. it takes him a good while before he can function properly again.

↬ the pregnancy itself is a lot smoother than you’d imagined. iwaizumi, as their athletic trainer, although not well versed with pregnancy, knew a lot about health and taking care of yourself in general, so he made sure you were always eating right and healthy. he even accompanied you once when sakusa and atsumu couldn’t, to the doctor, and made sure to ask him specifically what you should and shouldn’t be eating. all of the olympic/national team are more excited than anything. they’re insanely protective over you, and always pamper and care for you you when they can, whether that be back/neck/shoulder massages or giving you their food when they notice you eyeing it or letting you lean entirely on any of them for support as you walk. granted, they do make fun of you, especially the bigger your stomach got, but they mean well, really. suna once made fun of you and, because of the hormones, and because he was genuinely just mean, you started to cry. since then, suna swore off bullying you, at least until you gave birth.

↬ osamu is beyond ecstatic to become an uncle. he’s so excited it makes atsumu incredibly emotional. he goes with his brother on trips to ikea to buy a crib and gifts him an insane amount of baby clothes and always begins a conversation with, “how’s the baby?” every time you’re around, osamu’s hand can be found resting on your stomach, soothingly rubbing, excitedly grinning when he feels a kick. he is just so happy for his brother, he could cry.

↬ you ask them if they want a gender reveal when you find out or to keep it until the delivery of the baby, but they’re both insanely impatient (even though sakusa does try to convince atsumu to wait because it’ll be exciting, he himself isn’t even that convinced of that and they just ask you to tell them). with the help of osamu and his and atsumu’s parents, you organize a gender reveal party. the moment he sees the pink smoke, atsumu cheers so loudly it makes you laugh till your stomach hurt. sakusa’s grinning wider than you’ve ever seen him, grabbing atsumu’s face and kissing him, before pulling you into a tight hug. it’s literally the cutest thing ever, everyone just cheering loudly around you and celebrating with you.

↬ when you go into labor, you’re with neither of them, but with osamu, aran, and kita. they were staying the night at a hotel since they had training away from where they lived, and you were spending the night at osamu’s because the fathers of your baby really didn’t want you to be alone so close to your due date, and who better than osamu? your water didn’t break, but you kept having contractions. you were brushing it off as normal pain at the start, but they started to get worse, and closer together in time. kita, because he’s kita, had been keeping track, and told you how far apart your contractions were. to which you went, “contractions?!”

↬ aran’s calling sakusa and atsumu as kita grabs your bag as osamu grabs his keys and helps you to his car. you really couldn’t have been around a better set of men, because they were perfectly composed the whole time, helping you breathe and stay calm by staying calm themselves, reassuring you that you didn’t need to worry and that you will get to the hospital in time. they did flinch every time you screamed or cried out in pain, but aran held your hand the entire drive there, and kita guided you to steadying yourself as osamu drove as fast as he could.

↬ the issue was with sakusa and atsumu. to say they were freaking out would be an understatement. they were positively losing it. atsumu’s anxiety was louder than sakusa’s, but the latter’s was clear as ever on his pale skin and clammy hands. they were so annoying in the delivery room, literally faring worse off than you, who was pushing a whole baby out of her body. when you finally gave birth to a healthy baby girl, atsumu sobbed and sakusa cried in his hands, so maybe it was alright after all.

↬ they literally couldn’t believe their eyes when the nurse handed you the baby and placed her on your chest. she was so, so tiny, so beautiful, and theirs. honestly, you couldn’t hold back your own tears at the sight of her, and at their reaction to her. you held her in your arms as they thanked you, over and over and over again, for the biggest blessing they could ever receive.

↬ despite the fact that you were simply their surrogate, sakusa and atsumu knew they couldn’t just separate you and your baby, and neither could they just take her home all of a sudden. so for the first few months, you stayed in their guest room, but the baby slept in her own room. it was more difficult than you expected it to be when you were leaving her to go back to your own home, but they promised you repeatedly that they’re not really taking her away. it wasn’t as if you couldn’t visit at any time you wanted to come visit her. but at the end of the day, you knew what you had been signing up for, and that she was their daughter.

↬ she grows up to be a gorgeous woman. she’s interested in volleyball, sure, she’d been raised with volleyball players everywhere around her, but it’s not her immediate passion. atsumu thought he’d be more upset about that than he actually was, because he found out that it didn’t matter at all what she wanted to do. hell, if she wanted to do nothing at all and stay home forever with them, he was 100% on board with that. whatever made her happy and healthy, he was okay with. she grows up to be really close and really comfortable with both of her fathers, and they make sure with every passing day that no matter what, she can always come to them. and she does, about every little thing. and each and every time, they listen and advice and guide her properly. a s parents, they’re a perfect balance of strict and lenient. they set and raise her to never cross those boundaries, but otherwise they give her complete freedom. they respect her privacy, her decisions, everything.

↬ there was a day when she came back home from school, and they had taken a biology class for kids, where a teacher had explained periods to them. obviously, as curious as ever, she’d asked her dads about it, because she didn’t really get it. she wanted to know the how’s and the why’s and the what’s and the when’s. with every passing second atsumu had felt his lifespan shorten. eventually he suggested they call you, who she knew as her ‘aunt’ for the time being, since you were a woman and nobody would really explain it better than you. when she did get her period eventually, and had to sheepishly and shyly ask her dads to go to the store for her because she needed, um, supplies, atsumu lost it. sakusa had to try and calm him down all while laughing as he got ready to go to the store for her, because the drama of miya atsumu never gets old. he just couldn’t believe she was already getting her period. what the hell! what the actual hell!

↬ of course, he proceeded to embarrass her by telling osamu, telling sakusa’s parents, telling his parents. not cool :(

↬ when she was old enough, especially to understand the concept of being a surrogate (oh my god the sex talk was a whole other insufferable thing), they told her about you, and that you were actually her biological mother and not just an ‘auntie.’ she tried to be angry at them for keeping it from her, but she was honestly more excited about finding out than anything. it brought the two of you closer together, and for the next mother’s day, she organized a whole brunch for you, her and her dads, got you a gift, flowers, everything. yeah, you did cry.

↬ you genuinely have never been more satisfied and thankful for a decision like this one, ever, especially because of how much of a blessing the outcome had been.

can u tell this isn’t my first time thinking about this. ever since i posted the iwaoi one i’ve been wanting to do a sakuatsu one, but i didn’t really know whether anyone had enjoyed that or would want more, so thank you for sending in this ask!! love u all mwah <3

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #miya atsumu x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #atsumu x sakusa #sakuatsu #sakuatsu x reader #atsumu x reader

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angryinternetduck · 3 years

Text

Bet On It

HELLO i’m back again with not only another fic but another friends to lovers!!! here’s 5.9k on hotel mishaps, long-term bets, and falling in love. featuring harry styles x reader with just a few warnings of explicit language and alcohol consumption.

enjoy!!!

masterlist | ask

***

Five Years Ago

If you hadn’t met him an hour before in the bar of the hotel, you would’ve said no. Share a hotel room with a stranger just because the hotel fucked up and double booked a room? No. Absolutely not.

Except -

His name was Harry. He was very cute. And sweet. He complimented your shoes in the bar, dimpling at you all cutely before holding out his hand and introducing himself. He let you prattle on for way too long, laughing at all your jokes and nodding gravely when you started getting serious.

And surprisingly, when you said you had to go, he didn’t ask you out or try to kiss you. He just told you it was nice to meet you with a smile. Problem was that that wasn’t the last you saw of him; when you went up to the desk to get your key card, the receptionist informed you of the mistake.

“We’ve double booked it. You’ll have to work it out amongst yourselves,” they said. “We can suggest other places to stay, or you can sleep in the lobby. Or - of course, you can always share. He’s over there. Guy in the pink shirt.”

You looked over, and lo and behold…

“Harry.”

“We meet again.”

“Was this your doing?” you joked. “All that to get me in a room with you?”

Harry grinned. “I wish I were that smart.”

“So just coincidence?”

“Or perhaps fate,” Harry replied with a shrug.

“Did you know?” you asked. “When you, uh - introduced yourself?”

He shook his head and said, “Not that it was you.”

“Well, now that you do, what do you say? Share the room?”

Harry tilted his head from side to side, pondering. “Let’s prove it was fate,” he decided, meeting your gaze with a grin. Your brows furrowed, and he clarified. “Rock, paper, scissors. I win, we’ll share. You win, I’ll find somewhere else to stay.” He held out his fist.

“Won’t make me find somewhere else?” you asked, smiling a bit. “Would rather share?”

He shrugged.

“Alright, then.”

Both of you counted silently, in your heads -

Rock, paper, scissors…

Harry grinned, and you made a fist from your scissors to bump his rock.

“Fate it is,” you said.

Fate proved to be in your favor; that night, you had the most fun you’d ever had in your life. To your surprise, however, the fun didn’t involve sex. Just talking. You sat on the bed drinking booze from the minifridge and talking until dawn with this Harry Styles.

It came up at one point, sex - or at least kissing did - but neither ever happened.

It was around three, when the exhaustion had set in, when you were lying down, gazing into each other’s eyes, half asleep. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” he’d whispered, and you grinned at him. “I should be asking you that, don’t you think?”

He looked confused. “Why’s that?”

“You’re the one in love with me,” you told him.

He giggled, rubbing his eyes. “And what makes you say that?”

“You wanted to share!” you exclaimed, like it was obvious, because it was.

“Sharing is caring.”

You bounced your brows. “Caring. Loving.”

Harry laughed and insisted, “Not the same!”

“I’d bet a million bucks you’re in love with me,” you murmured, tapping his nose.

“Then a million bucks you’d lose.”

“You will be,” you said, nodding slightly.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, a smile growing on his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a million bucks to give me on my deathbed when I still only care?” he said.

“Do you have a million bucks to give me when you confess?” you said back.

He stared at you for a second. His eyes were very green, his smile very wistful. “A kiss.”

“A kiss?” you echoed.

Harry nodded. “I will bet you one kiss that I will never fall in love with you.”

“You’re gonna want a lot more than one kiss when you inevitably do,” you whispered.

“At least one kiss,” he amended.

“At least one kiss,” you agreed.

“Shake on it?”

You both shifted around in the bed so you could shake hands without sitting up.

“It’s a bet,” Harry said.

And so it was.

***

Present Day

“Give it to me straight, Styles,” you greet Harry, plopping down at your table with a sigh.

He hesitates for a moment, drawing out the suspense, and then breathes, “Care.”

You shake your head disappointedly. “Unbelievable, how bad you are at lying, you -”

Harry interrupts, “What’s really unbelievable is your tardiness -”

Then you do: “Your annoyingness -”

He pouts and fires back, “Your vocabulary -”

“Your lack thereof -”

“That’s not proper English.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “You’re not proper English.”

“I promise you I am,” he replies with a smirk.

“I’ve always thought the accent was fake.”

“If it were, I’d be the greatest impersonator to walk the earth.”

“Impersonator?” you repeat. “And tell me, what is an impersonator but a talented liar?”

He gives you a grin. “I’ll take the compliment of talented, thank you.”

Leveling his gaze, you smile back and take a sip of your drink. “You know, I think that actually was proper English,” you muse. “Lack thereof. Your vocabulary - or lack thereof.” Harry bites his lip, eyes narrowed, staring at you, and you’re tempted to joke that his focus is lust when he replies, “It’s still wrong. I was saying your vocabulary is naive, and by saying I have none, you’re fundamentally saying the same. It’s redundant.”

Clearly satisfied with himself, he sits back, smiles smugly, and takes a sip of his coffee.

“Harry Styles,” you say, “I’m going to smack that smirk right off your pretty face.”

“Second compliment in a day!” Harry exclaims. “Someone alert the press.”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your own drink. “Why, they’d have a field day.”

The little cafe you’re in is absolutely adorable. It’s midway between your place and Harry’s, and after that fateful night in the hotel (during which you learned you live so close to each other), you began a tradition of meeting here once a week.

Tradition doesn’t end with just the location and time. Each meeting is almost exactly the same. You’re always late, and you always greet him the same way: some variation of “Have you fallen in love with me yet?”

And his reply is always the same: negative.

From there, the conversation wanders as much as it ever does, with one asking about the other’s week and the response being long and filled with complaints and woes and lamentations. The question is echoed back, and the response is - again - long, filled with complaints, woes, etc.

Despite the moaning and groaning, the mood never falls too low. It’s impossible to feel down around Harry Styles; just one look at those dimples makes a smile of your own appear on your face.

Your friendship with him has certainly blossomed. It’s a wonder he hasn’t fallen in love yet (or maybe he has, you’ll never know unless he says), and a greater wonder still that he hasn’t turned the question around on you.

Because the answer would be yes. You have, in fact, fallen in love with him.

Deeply, madly, in love.

But he’ll never know, because you’ll never say.

***

“I love you,” you tell Harry breathlessly, looking up at him lovingly. “Most ardently.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, no - I’m just a girl! I’m just a girl, standing in front of -”

“I’ll always be there for you!” you cut in excitedly. “All the love in my heart, Llo -”

“Michael, I love you!” Harry gushes. “Choose me, marry me, let me make you happy!”

You jump up and jut a finger at him dramatically. “We live in a cynical world!” you exclaim. “A cynical world, and we work in a business of tough competitors. I love you! You - you complete me!”

Harry jumps up to match you and begins, “I hate that -” then shakes his head and restarts, “I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie - I hate it when you make me laugh and - and - and even worse when you make me cry - I hate the way - I hate it when” - he’s grinning big now, jumping with excitement and passion - “you’re not around and the fact you didn’t call - but - but mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even a little bit, not even at all!”

It all came out in a rush of jumbled words and you’re so impressed you can’t help but sit back down and clap for him. Bright red, Harry takes a bow and collapses onto his couch next to you. “That took way too much effort,” he says, out of breath.

“It was worth it,” you tell him. “That was dazzling, really. You should go on the road.”

Harry nods. “One man show. Shakespeare. All of his long monologues, then bam - a poem better than all the others combined.” You giggle and fall into him, leaning against his chest with a sigh. “I’ll come with you,” you say. “Follow you to the ends of the earth and hold my breath to Pluto.”

“What’s that from?” Harry asks.

“That’s all me, baby.”

“Maybe the poem better than all the others combined could be yours.”

“Impossible,” you say immediately. “Nothing will ever beat Kat Stratford.”

“I’ll manage.”

You scoff. “You?”

“We.”

You shake your head. “There’s no ‘we’ in genius, Styles, but there is an I.”

“And a U!” Harry replies.

You look up at him.

“Wait.”

Snickering, you sit up and stretch your arms towards the ceiling. “Stick to memorization, maybe. Leave the heavy lifting to me. You need some practice on that speech, anyway - I counted at least three errors, not to mention the stuttering.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Harry sings. “What do you say, can I confess my love to you every night for the sake of practice?” You shake your head, standing up again and grabbing an empty container of food to throw away. “Not without losing the bet.”

Harry follows you, cleaning up as he goes. “Just for the one man show!”

“No exceptions.” You grin at him, grabbing your stuff and heading for the door. “Thanks for the food, Styles. I’ll see you Sunday?” Harry nods and blows you a kiss, which you catch and put in your pocket. “I’ll save that for when you lose the bet,” you tell him.

“Get outta here,” Harry laughs.

You stick your tongue out at him and stick a post it note on the door frame as you leave.

***

Harry usually wakes up to a few texts. Maybe a call every so often. Notifications from social media aren’t uncommon. The only days he wakes up to nearly a hundred texts are the nights you decide to go to the outlook.

Whether or not you like staying up late normally, you stay up until the wee hours of the morning to go to this place you found about three hours outside of the city. It’s a bit of a drive, but it’s completely worth it.

There’s a little woods out there, and a while ago you went a bit off path and found an outcropping of rocks that look out over the city. At night, stars are visible. There’s nothing you love more than lying for hours on the cool stone, gazing up at the heavens above.

The first time you took Harry to the outlook, you asked a question, and Harry’s answer to that question was one of the only lies he’s ever told you. You’d asked, “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

And Harry had said, “Of course not!” when in reality, he’d been looking for an opening to mention that very fear for the twenty minutes before, while you’d been climbing steadily uphill through the trees.

In his defense, there was no way he could’ve said anything different. You were just so happy, glowing with excitement and practically buzzing with energy. Plus, you’d grabbed his hand at the moment you asked to pull him up the last ridge and he was still a bit startled.

He never came to regret that lie. He grew out of the fear, anyway, so it wasn’t a huge deal. In fact, he’s almost come to love heights. He loves the thrill, the burst of happiness, the insane phenomenon of a racing heart and the feeling of being totally at peace all at the same time.

Incidentally, he also feels that way around you, whether the two of you are a hundred feet up or not. He’s always enjoyed spending time with you, and even just seeing you makes him happy. It’s what makes you a good friend.

Harry’s gone with you a few times to the outlook, but it’s usually pretty late by the time you want to go. Sometimes you’ll call him and he’ll pick up, and you’ll talk on the phone until one of you falls asleep.

You went last night, apparently, because Harry scrolls through seventy-two text messages this morning. It takes a while, since he reads all of them and then replies, but he woke up early anyway so it’s fine.

It’s Sunday, so he’s headed to the cafe to meet you. He has a cup of coffee even though he’ll get one at the cafe, too. There’s a sticky note on the coffee maker - Note to self: tell Harry there’s a snickers bar in his sweatshirt pocket - which you probably left a few days ago.

Harry smiles at the note, then frowns, sticking his hand in his pocket. There is, in fact, a Snickers bar in there, and Harry throws it out. It’s from almost a month ago, when you and him had an August Halloween. The sun is just a little too bright. Harry listens to music in the car, humming along and tapping his hands against the wheel in time.

You’re late, of course, so he orders his second cup of coffee and reads a newspaper on the shelf while he waits. Today it’s five minutes until you arrive, which is actually more on time than usual, and Harry throws you a large brimmed hat he found in his closet when you approach the table.

“What say you, Harry Styles,” you greet him, catching the hat and placing it on your head. “Make a jester laugh” - you form a heart with your fingers - “or make a jester cry?” Your heart cracks in two as you pout at him.

Breaking a finger-heart of his own, Harry grins. “Laughing clowns were always creepier to me,” he tells you. You trace a finger down your cheek like a tear and sit down across from him, sliding a menu from its place on the wall and beginning to read it over.

You look up at him, half smiling, a joke on your lips, and then -

Harry blinks.

Just like that, something’s changed.

You snap in front of his face. “Hello? Anything? You could at least pretend to laugh.”

“Christ, sorry,” Harry breathes. “What’d you say?”

Raising a brow, you lean forward and inspect him. “You alright, there, Styles?”

“If I were any better and it’d be obscene,” Harry answers easily, tapping your nose.

Grinning, you sit back. “Fantastic. Tell me, then, how it’s been. Fill me in.”

“It’s a lot better seeing you in that hat.”

“Oh, I forgot!” you exclaim, looking up at it.

Harry giggles and asks, “You wanna know what one hat said to the other?”

“Oh, boy.”

“I’ll see you on a-head!”

Groaning dramatically, you throw the hat at him and bury your face in your hands.

***

"This is getting embarrassing, Styles,” you say as you walk up to Harry.

He turns around, a smile already on his face, and begins, “What’s -”

He stops when he sees you, because you’re all dressed up. You look absolutely stunning, which was on purpose, because of course you want to see his reaction, whether he loves you or not. And it’s very satisfactory, this reaction.

“You look fantastic,” Harry says softly.

You clear your throat, a little put off by how serious he’s being. “That was the goal.”

His eyes float back up to meet yours, a small smile on his face. “Thank you for coming.”

“You’re welcome,” you chirp. “But don’t let your head get too big - I only came for the free food and movie.” Finally, the glaze over his eyes fades, and he grins at you. He takes your arm, and as you walk, he asks, “You started a thought, you know, about something embarrass-”

You scoff. “You asked me on a date, Styles!”

“I did not!” Harry insists. He shakes his head. “My date ducked out at the last second -”

Smirking, you cut in, “Wonder why, Mr. Pink Suit.”

“- we were going to match, thank you - but really, she ducked out, and I wasn’t about to waste two perfectly good tickets. Thus… here we are.” He nods, like he’s pleased with his answer, but you raise a brow at him. “That’s a terrible excuse. You can just say you love me. I’ll accept.”

You arrive at his car. “Not yet,” he says, and then he gets in.

He starts the car, and for a moment, you gaze out the window.

Then, breaking the silence, you say, “I like the suit.”

“I like the look.”

“Thanks, I came up with it all by myself.”

“Impressive.”

You wait a moment, and then ask, “What inspired the pink?”

“She said she wanted a pink rose.”

Frowning, you begin, “I thought you said pink roses are -”

“Yeah, they’re not my favorite,” he mumbles.

You snicker a little. “Oh, what a bad date in high school can get you…”

“Hey, don’t tease,” Harry whines with a pout.

“Sorry, sorry,” you murmur. “You’re nice to dress up anyway. No rose, though?”

Sheepishly, he tells you, “I… forgot.”

“You forgot?” you laugh.

“Yeah…”

“Well, um… well, it’s the thought that counts.”

Harry pulls into the parking lot and parks the car, then unlocks the doors. “Come on,” he says, but you frown at him, confused. “You know you pulled in the wrong way?” you ask, but he just beckons with his hand and opens the trunk.

You hadn’t even looked - there’s pillows back there, and candy, and blankets, and he flicks on little fairy lights. “Harry Styles, you romantic!” you gasp, enthralled. “Wow, I gotta meet this girl, if you’re doing all this for her…”

He sits down and pats the space next to him, then grabs a pack of candy - your favorite. He hands it to you, which you take with a slow smile. “Her favorite too?” you ask. “Nope,” Harry replies, shaking his head as he opens his own pack of candy. “Forgot to ask her, but when I called her in the store she wouldn’t pick up so I just… got yours.” He clears his throat and hands you a bag of popcorn. “There’s this, too.”

“Thanks, Styles.”

On the huge screen in front of you, the movie begins to roll. You take a risk, sliding a little on the seat so you’re leaning against Harry, head against his chest. You can feel him breathing, his heart beating, his arm around your waist, thumb gently moving back and forth over the fabric of your clothes.

You fall asleep for most of the movie.

When you wake up, you’re leaned against a pillow, not Harry. Frowning and out of sorts, you sit up and rub your eyes. He’s leaned against the car outside, on the phone, and you can just barely make out what he’s saying.

“... I know, it’s… Yeah, I - I’m sorry you couldn’t make it, love. I missed you…”

The familiar feeling of tears building behind your eyes horrifies you, and you have to turn your back to him as tears start slipping down your cheeks. You’d somehow managed to convince yourself that it was all a ruse, that he’d meant it to be you from the start, that there was no other girl, that all along it was -

“Hey,” Harry says.

You cough, palming away the tears on your face and yawning like you’d just woken up. “Oh, hey… How’s, um - how’s she doing? Or - whoever - I mean -” You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“She’s fine,” Harry tells you. “How are you? Took a pretty long nap there…”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “I was… I’m tired.”

“C’mon, then, let’s get you home.” He smiles at you, dimpling adorably, and holds out his hand. You take it and slide off the back of his car. “Thanks,” you say. He nods and shuts the trunk while you get into the passenger seat.

You don’t say anything as he starts the car, as he backs out and heads for your place. He glances over at you, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, and eventually turns on the radio. You fold up a sticky note and covertly slide it into the center console.

“I’ll see you Sunday,” you tell him when he stops the car.

He nods. “See you then.”

You hold his gaze for a second, and then get out of the car. As you’re shutting the door, Harry says, “Hey!” and you stop. “Hey, er - thank you. For coming tonight. I know it was a little… It was a bit much.”

“Not too much at all,” you say softly. “Bye, Harry.”

You shut the door.

***

The sticky note business began about a year after Harry met you. He’d mentioned something about refrigerator magnets being the most charming form of communication ever invented, and the next day he found a sticky note on his mirror that said, Note to self: find a more charming form of communication than refrigerator magnets.

Harry doesn’t find the sticky note in his console until the next night, when he’s driving home after working late and he’s trying to find his phone. It’s ringing, and it’s your ringtone, which is really, really annoying because you set it to the worst song you could think of so he’d be motivated to pick it up fast.

It’s not in the center console. It’s actually in his pocket. He picks it up.

“Harry, you gotta tell me now,” you say immediately. “Do you love me?”

“I -”

“Love or care, Styles.” You sound breathless. “L or C. Lover or Cunt. Tell me now.”

“Cunt,” Harry says reflexively, and then shakes his head. “I mean -”

“You don’t love me.” You don’t sound upset at all. You’re just clarifying.

Harry frowns. “I… What’s going on?”

“Well, I think I love this guy, Styles, and I’m about to fuck him, so I’ll talk to you later.”

And then you hang up.

Harry stares at his phone for a moment. Then he puts it down, frowning at the street in front of him, and thinks for a while until he gets home. When he does, he’s shutting the center console, which he’d left open, and he sees the little post it note.

Note to self: buy a pink rose for h to make him like them bc they’re pretty

Sitting in his car, staring at the note, Harry can’t help but think he’s messed it all up.

***

Sunday. You don’t show up.

***

Another Sunday. Harry orders a coffee and reads the newspaper.

You don’t show up.

***

You answer a text.

He asks if you’re okay, and you say, Yup!

***

You send a text.

Hey, Styles? Can you bring me a flower?

***

He should’ve gone to your place first, Harry’s thinking. He should’ve checked there, and then gone here. But it’s too late now. He’s stepping out of his car, trekking through the forest, and he’s finally here, and -

You’re on your back, staring at the stars.

“You know, I really thought he was the one.”

Harry bites on his lip and fiddles with the flower in his hands. “Did you?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then you sigh and sit up. “No.”

“He didn’t - you’re not… You’re okay, right?”

“Nothing’s broken but my heart,” you murmur. “Physically, I’m fine, emotionally, I’m…”

You fade off, and Harry sits next to you and hands you the flower.

“Yellow,” you whisper. You look up at him, eyes wide in the moonlight. “Why yellow?”

“Color of your shirt the first time I met you.”

Smiling, you murmur, “Memory of an elephant.”

“I couldn’t remember her favorite candy,” Harry says impulsively. He shuts his eyes, exhaling softly. “Sorry. Wrong thing to say.” You shake your head, looking forward again. “It’s fine. How’s she doing?”

“Wouldn’t know.”

Surprised, you glance at him again. “You mean you -?”

Harry shrugs. “She said my priorities weren’t right. Then she said goodbye.”

“We’re just a coupla broken hearted fools, aren’t we?” you say quietly.

“Broken hearted, yes,” Harry replies, “but I’m not a fool. Don’t know about you.”

You scoff, hitting his chest with the back of your hand. “We’re having a moment here!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry says, but he’s laughing so the apology is moot.

There’s a beat of silence, and then you say, “I would’ve known about her if I hadn’t missed all our Sundays. I’m sorry.” Harry shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Did you have fun, at least? With Mr. Heartbreak?”

You giggle. “So much fun.”

“Well… that’s good, at least.”

He looks at you, really looks, and for a moment, he forgets himself.

You’re looking up at the stars, your head tilted up, your lips curved upwards in a smile.

Harry’s expression matches yours. It’s one of quiet awe, of happiness and joy and adoration. He’s smiling, too, but it’s not as conscious. It’s more reflexive, something he can’t help but do whenever he catches sight of this view. He’s not looking at the stars, though - his gaze is focused on you.

“Come on!” you exclaim suddenly, jumping up. “This is the perfect excuse to watch The Notebook again.” Harry blinks, standing up and following you back to his car. “You took the words right out of my mouth,” he says.

***

Ideally, on the anniversary of your meeting Harry, you’d both rent a hotel room and get drunk on the minibar, talking nonsense until morning, to properly reenact that first night together. Problem with that is that hotel rooms cost money.

So instead, you have a sleepover. Last year it was at your place, so this year it’s at his. The good thing about not being in a hotel is that you can buy normal size bottles of booze, rather than the teeny ones from the minibar.

He’s grabbing everything from the kitchen while you’re queueing up the movie on the TV in his room. It’s not cooperating, though, and you’re rooting through all the wires in the back to try and find something that’s supposed to be connected.

“Harry, if you don’t get in here this second!” you shout at him.

“Did you get the other remote?” he shouts back.

You groan and whine, “Just come in here!”

“I haven’t gotten everything yet! Look for the second remote. It’s in one of the drawers.”

“Which drawers?” you yell.

He doesn’t reply.

So you ruffle through the drawers closest to the TV. Books, papers, chargers. No remotes. You go further and find his record collection. A few photo albums. You stick a sticky note on the top one that says, Note to self: go through these. There’s more books. A few DVDs.

And then - a folder. It has a yellow flower on it.

Frowning, you glance at the door behind you and then flip it open. What must be a hundred post it notes fall out. Your jaw drops, just slightly, because they’re all from you. Every sticky note you’ve ever left him is in this folder. He kept them all.

“Did you find it?” Harry shouts.

You ask, “Find what?” but your voice is too soft and he doesn’t hear you.

He shouts your name again, and you quickly shove the folder back where you got it. You clear your throat, then yell, “Harry, I can’t find it!” Finally, he comes in, arms full of food and drink, and tugs open the top drawer on his bedside table with his foot.

And there it is.

“Have I got to do everything around here or what?” he jokes.

You give him a laugh and set up the TV, which works just fine now that you have the right tools. Harry sets everything down and puts his hands on his hips, raising a brow at you. “You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, fine,” you tell him. “Just grew a few white hairs waiting for you to come back.”

He sticks his tongue out and tosses a bag of chips at you. “Ha, ha, very funny.”

Finally, the movie’s set up, and you lean against his bed, sighing in contentment as the opening credits start to play. Harry hands you a glass and holds his own out, which you knock against your own. “Cheers, Styles,” you say. “To five years.”

“And counting.”

Grinning, you drink up and then settle back to watch the film.

***

His voice is thick.

Like honey.

It drips off his tongue, catches on his lips, slides down the column of his throat and glistens in the dim light. It’s rich. Deep. It turns to crystal in the cool air around you as his words fade off. You want to reach out and feel it on your fingers, want to taste it on your tongue, want to feel it slide over your lips, down your throat…

“... and then, suddenly, I was flying out the window with the worst pain I’ve ever -”

“Harry,” you interrupt with a giggle, “this is the third time you’ve told this story tonight.”

“It’s a good story!”

“Lemme see,” you say, crawling forward, and you’re on his lap now but you can’t really bring yourself to care because this is for scientific purposes. Harry grins and puts his hands on your waist and you giggle again and put your fingers on his jaw. “Lemme see your tongue.”

“Wanna see it or touch it?”

You smirk and reply, “How ‘bout lick it?”

“That’s gross!” Harry exclaims with a delighted laugh.

“I know!” you exclaim back, equally delighted.

“It’s broken,” Harry says, but he’s opening his mouth so it comes out all warbled. “I’m broken, you know -” You peer at his tongue, but it doesn’t look very broken. “No, you’re not,” you tell him.

“On the inside,” Harry says, pouting at you.

You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, nestling your head on his shoulder in a hug. “You’re warm,” you say, “that’s what you are.” Harry nods against you, running his hands up and down your back. “You fix me,” he slurs into your neck.

“That’s so romantic!” you giggle.

You sit there for a second, breathing him in, feeling happy, and then suddenly -

“I’m roasting,” Harry says, and it’s morning.

“I’m so hot,” you groan, “and my head hurts so bad…”

Harry grunts and pushes against you. “Get off me.”

You open your eyes, squinting in the sunlight, and fall off of him and onto the floor.

He stands up, moaning and groaning, and walks out. You may have fallen asleep again because when he comes back in and hands you a glass of water and some medicine you’re blinking back awake. “Thanks,” you mumble, downing both.

“That was something,” Harry says.

“Something for sure,” you say.

“I can’t move,” Harry says.

“Me neither.”

So you don’t. The day drags on, and when you’re both coherent enough for food you go to the kitchen. Harry cooks something up, and you eat it, sitting next to him at the kitchen island. You feel his foot against yours, and you play a half-delirious game of footsie as you finish eating.

Once you’re all done, Harry stands up and starts to wash the dishes. You watch him, watch his back and his arms and the way he moves, and stand up and stand next to him, grabbing a dish towel and holding out your hand. He hands you the plate, and you dry it.

It’s comfortable, the silence, and it’s more than peaceful, standing there drying dishes with Harry in the early afternoon. There aren’t many dishes, but you both take your time, and eventually he breaks the silence and the productivity to put on some music.

And then, suddenly, you’re dancing, a smile on your face that you can’t seem to get rid of curving your lips as you float around the kitchen with him. He’s bopping along to the song, hand in yours, dish towel over his shoulder after he stole it from you.

The dancing carries you to the living room, where he twirls you out so you can collapse onto the couch. He does the same, and you put your feet on his lap, head on the armrest, looking at him.

“You’re staring,” he says.

“You’re in front of me.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

You raise a brow, smiling and still holding his gaze, and then sit up. “Staring contest, go.”

Instantly, he blinks, and you laugh, “Fuck’s sake.”

“No, no, again,” he demands, grinning, and he blinks quickly a few times before declaring, “Go.” The staring begins. Your eyes begin to sting, and you bite your lip, trying to keep your eyes open.

“We should watch Bird Box,” Harry whispers.

“Saw it last week.”

“I saw it,” he corrects. “You hid behind your hands the entire time.”

“You were the one screaming like a baby.”

“I prefer rom-coms, you know that.”

“Sometimes you need a little variety in life.”

“I lost the bet.”

You blink.

“Victory,” Harry says, a bit weakly, blinking too.

Your brows furrow. “What?”

“Victory,” Harry repeats, smiling sheepishly.

“No, no, before that,” you insist, shaking your head.

“I lost the bet,” Harry repeats softly.

You swallow thickly. “What bet?”

Harry bites his lip, concentrating, and then stands up and walks away. You scoff, following him, and ask again. “What bet?” He shakes his head, quiet, and opens his refrigerator, looking for something.

“Harry, for the love of -”

He holds out a kiss. A chocolate kiss.

Your eyes widen.

He steps closer, holding the kiss out on his palm. “I lost the bet,” he says. “I fell in love with you.” Your breath catches in your throat. “I don’t know if you feel the same,” he goes on, “so I… I don’t want to kiss you. I mean - I do, but -”

He holds the kiss closer to you. “I lost,” he finishes quietly.

You can’t find the right words.

So instead, you close the distance and kiss him.

The chocolate kiss falls to the floor, and fireworks erupt behind your eyelids.

After a moment, the words come.

And then, when you pull away for a moment, you both speak at the same time -

“I love you.”

Laughter bubbles from your lips, and Harry grins, kissing you again.

“So I guess I didn’t lose after all,” he murmurs.

You smile against his lips. “Let’s call it a tie.”

***

AHHHH there it is!!!! i actually did write this in like . two days . which was ! great haha but i hope u liked it!!!! if u did, feedback and a reblog would be much appreciated 💜

thanks for reading!

masterlist | ask

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles

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sohin-ace · 3 years

Text

Jolyne - No Ordinary Girl

Mermaid Y/N x Surfer Jolyne

Today was a particularly fitting day to go to the beach. Jotaro had taken Jolyne, Hermes and Foo Fighters to the shore. He mostly went for some observation and the girls decided they would take advantage of the nice weather for some surfing.

It was not long after they arrived and started installing themselves that Jolyne and Hermes' eyes fell into very familiar faces.

Annasui, upon seeing the group, walked towards the girls with a confident stance, making sure his long hair was flowing in the wind.

"Oh look who we have here. The ladies victory." Annasui exclaimed, before completely falling heart-eyed, his voice and tone softening, dreamy even, at the sight of his object of worship. "Hi Jolyne~"

"Oh! Weather Report's there! Hi Weas!" Jolyne called out to the older man arranging a parasol a few feet behind, her completely ignoring the pink haired-male that seemed to have come with him. He waved shortly at Jolyne in response.

"Anyways, what are you guys up to?" Hermes asked, sipping on some lime flavored granita.

"Well, as you can see..." He pointed at the ocean, "We just wanted to take a day to work out a bit, but the waves are real nice today."

He leaned in not so subtly towards Jolyne, despite Hermes' evident judging gaze.

"But you know what else is real nice today?" He brought his hand up to cup Jolyne's chin, but before he could even say or do anything, Jolyne leaned away and pointed behind him.

"Oh wow! My dad's coming back with drinks!" She called nonchalantly, looking behind Annasui like he was more transparent than air itself.

"...! DRINKS?! DRINKS!!" Foo Fighter gasped, pushing the feminine man off to the side with such force, he fell and slid against the sand.

"Hey, Jojo," Hermes tapped her friend's shoulder, "Let's show these pendejos how girls ride waves."

The Asian American smirked, eager to show who's boss and always ready to follow on her best friend's mischief. "I'm racing you then."

"Pfft, I won't go easy girlfriend." The Mexican cracked her knuckles and grabbed her plank.

After surfing for long enough and being outran by Jolyne's stamina, Hermes decided to go back and sunbathe next to F.F's who was playing cutely with sand.

Jolyne glided full speed over the water, the wind and droplets of salty water refreshing her skin. More than competition, Jolyne loved the acceleration, the adrenaline, the sweet fresh air through her long hair. When she was surfing, Jolyne's heart lightened up and her mind purged of any negative thoughts, anxiety, fears.

She was at peace.

Before she could enjoy the sweet taste of her peace of mind though, she caught up to a blond surfer in front of her who she recognized as she got closer. Oh god, not him of all people.

"Oh, hey! Isn't that the sexiest surfer in all Miami?" Romeo teased, admiring the girl who gained up on him, "Not bad, look at you go! Who knew my little Jojo would be so talented, hot damn!"

Jolyne frowned and clicked her tongue. She swore if she wasn't so focused on staying in balance, she would drown him on the spot. He laughed obnoxiously, satisfied with being a disgusting excuse of a human.

"Romeo, I swear to fuckin-"

Before she could even finish her sentence, something, a gigantic fish tail appeared out of the wave and flicked itself right accross the blonde, slapping him off of his plank with a painful sound.

"HUAARGHH-" He screamed before crashing into the water with the splash and disappearing behind Jolyne.

"O-OH MY GOD!" She gasped, both surprised by the sudden turn of events, and incredibly scared for her life, thinking some kind of hostile shark was in the shore currently, which was to report immediately.

The moment she decided to take a turn and leave as fast as she could, warning the others to get the hell out of here, a shadowy form within the water followed her along the wave.

Foolishly curious, Jolyne looked at it, not without her heart hammering in her chest at the potential danger she was facing.

What she saw was not a sight she'd have ever expected to ever see in all her 19 years. Her legs shook at the shock and she almost completely fell over her board.

Gliding along the water right next to her, right inside the tall wave, was the figure of... a girl.

Or was it a girl? It couldn't be. She looked human at first glance, but the more Jolyne's gaze moved sideways she noticed the long and impressive fish tail replacing what were supposed to be legs.

Jolyne's jaw felt slack. She felt like she was hallucinating. Believe it or not, she had not smoked or taken any recreative substances beforehand, but she truly wished she had because that would have at least explained what her eyes were showing her.

The girl swimming and following her only smiled, waving cutely with webbed hands, as if amused by Jolyne's disbelieving reaction and wide eyes.

"W-w-w.... What the fuck..???" Jolyne finally spoke after rebooting her entire brain, "No fucking way-...! A mermaid??!! A real one??!"

Like a bad trick from fate, the wave Jolyne was trying her hardest to not get swallowed by, seemed to grow weaker and weaker, shortening in size.

Jolyne saw the mermaid slowly retreat away in an elegant swim, her form vanishing into the deep blue.

"Wait, no!" The surfer called, almost desperate to have such a mystical meeting and ethereal moment be so short lived.

She reached her hand out to the creature, unsure of what she was even trying to do, but the force of the current got the best of her, and Jolyne lost balance, falling forward with nothing to hang onto for purchase.

Jolyne splashed onto the water and the wave died with her hope of ever living such a dream again.

"Ooohh dang it! You were almost there!" Hermes called out from the shore, her voice booming enough for Jolyne to hear as she broke into the surface.

"Fuck...." Jolyne cursed, hanging onto her board.

She felt defeated. Not because she couldn't ride that wave to the very end as she was expected to with her skill level, but rather because she couldn't immortalize that beautiful moment.

She blankly climbed onto her board again and barely even paddled her way back to land, too out of it to do so.

Was that even real? That had to be, right? She saw the mermaid. She saw her hair, her skin tone shined-on by the sun. She saw the scales over her skin, the fins along her arms and tail.

She saw her attack Romeo, he must have seen her too, Jolyne pondered.

"Aaah the champion is back!" F.F cheered as Jolyne finally walked back, drenched and with her plank under one arm. "I made a sandcastle for our ocean queen!"

"Thanks Foo..." Jolyne's small smile didn't not match her quiet tone.

"Hey, what's up, chula ? You look like you've seen a ghost, or something? You did great back there, so why the long face?" Hermes fixed the straps of Jolyne's bikini top and removed some seaweeds from her hair.

"It's just... I saw something weird it the water and I don't know..." Jolyne hesitated, "Maybe I was dreaming or something."

"Hum..." Hermes hummed in thought. "What do you think Féfé?"

"Maybe Mr. Jotaro can answer if you saw an animal? Damn, I'm thirsty." F.F stuck her tongue out, clearly expressing her thirst.

"Dude, there's water litterally everywhere here." The mexican grimaced before turning back to Jolyne. "But yeah, maybe you should ask your dad if that worries you so much."

"Uhh..."

Jolyne looked towards her father who was crouching somewhere next to some rocks, taking notes about mollusks, or so Jolyne guessed.

"Yeah, maybe not. It's fine though, no big deal." She smiled, waving her hand in dismissal.

Shrugging it all off, the girls decided to join Weather Report and Jotaro who brought food to finish the day at the beach with a relaxing touch.

And so, the day ended with an uncanny normalcy for Jolyne, who kept thinking more and more as the sun set, that it all had been in her mind. Mermaids didn't exist. It was probably a Stand user playing tricks on her.

That what she wanted to believe. When she thought of all the events that would follow, she truly wished she had spoken to her father about it. After all, if he had fought a very real vampire, then there would be no doubt that something as crazy as a mermaid could exist in her bizarre adventure.

Jolyne came back to the beach that same week. Alone, this time. She was careful to come by the time the sun started to lower in the sky and the temperature of the water and air dropped, knowing tourists and athletes would be gone by this time.

'What now?' She thought. Coming back out of sheer curiosity was a thing, but making sure she could attract the creature back to her was something else.

"Should I bring food? What do mermaids even eat? Does she like hot dogs...?" Jolyne thought out loud, looking around, secretly glad no one was here to hear her talk mad nonsense to herself like some insane crackhead.

She approached the water and drenched her feet in the small rocking waves, coming and going her way and gently splashing her. She hesitated for a moment, remembering that along with the legend of mermaids came the fact that these creatures were known to attract and enchant humans by their beauty, leading them to their inevitable death.

So maybe, Jolyne accepted, she was destined to die in the ocean.

Just as she came hip-deep into the sea, she felt a strange current shaking her legs, almost knocking her out of balance.

Before she could even process how strange it felt, she looked down into the clear water and saw no less than the same huge colorful fish tail she had seen that very day.

She gasped in realization and soon enough screamed as she felt calloused hands grab her thighs, the creature pushing herself out of the water to be met face to face with the human who had been, unbeknownst to Jolyne, her newfound fixation.

"Y-WHAAAAAHH!!!" Jolyne hollered, not expecting such a strong and surprising appearance.

The mermaid still halfway into the water, climbed and gripped up the girl's hips for leverage. She looked up at Jolyne's face, smiling wide and eyes glinting in both adoration and mischief.

"Greetings."

"HOLY CRAP-" Jolyne's voice cracked, "I mean- fuck yes! I mean-..."

Poor Jojo was completely out of it. But who could blame her, though? It was not everyday that one got to meet a real mermaid in the flesh. And certainly not such a handsy one.

She cleared her throat and mustered her most suave voice, pretending she wasn't completely flustered by the sheer beauty before her.

"Hi."

"I knew you'd come back..." The mermaid spoke, her voice almost ethereal and distant, "They always do."

Jolyne's heart wanted to stop. God, she felt burning hot and was sweating everywhere. Her voice stilled Jolyne to place in a way she couldn't explain. The legendary creature was so impossibly close to her, bodies almost touching.

She noticed she couldn't stay up overwater any other way than using Jolyne's lean body for leverage, her heavy tail anchoring her down. But the warm proximity between them and the sight of such a beautiful, rare and mystical creature right under her chest felt unreal and exciting.

Jolyne wanted to look her over for hours. Her hair texture, drenched and flowy, her skin tone glowing like gold, her holographic scales and fins shining like crazy diamonds.

"Why... Why did you...? Of all people...?" Jolyne questionned, now wondering if their first meeting in that wave was really a trick of fate, or if she was chosen in any way. "You attacked Romeo, yet you showed up to me... Why me?"

"I like beautiful humans." The mermaid smiled, her radiant features and smooth voice making Jolyne's legs weak, "You're beautiful."

The young surfer couldn't help her heart shaking and the wave of warmth spreading through her chest. If it was anyone else, she would boast her obvious beauty or maybe flip them off. But now she couldn't. Being complimented by a mythical being that was already the most gorgeous thing Jolyne had ever witnessed was truly something else

"What's your name?" Jolyne started.

"Call me Y/N."

Y/N, Jolyne's mind echoed. Cute. Even mermaids had names, she thought before realising that may be a very stupid thought to have. She didn't really know what else to expect.

"I uh, I'm Jolyne..." She looked down into the water, somewhat not daring to look at Y/N's adorable curious and sensual gaze. Oh god that was bad, she was entrancing.

"Not to be gay but...You look cute. Hot even. Can I say that? That's not weird, right? Since ya know... You're not exactly human, but you're not an animal either, like... I'm not gonna get arrested for this... I hope..."

"I'm not too familiar with human tongue, but I think Ms.Jolyne looks really pretty as well." Y/N moved to wrap an arm around Jolyne's waist, gripping her for better leverage and pointing at her chest, right in her reach. "Healthy mammals, great for feeding the young."

"Mammals...? Oh! You mean my boobs?" Jolyne glanced at her modest chest before grinning at the creature, "Aw thanks! Finally someone who likes them who's not some degenerate creep!"

Jolyne's chuckle died down and she finally took the time to look over Y/N's face. She ran a cold hand over her much warmer cheek, gliding it down to her gilled neck, mesmerized by her anatomy.

It truly was a one-in-a-lifetime meeting. Jolyne was slowly comprehending her luck to be met with a legendary sea creature like her. And a friendly one, at that.

How could this be even real? Our human knew that even though she was feeling relatively serene at the moment, the adrenaline would come down later and she would most likely cry herself to sleep.

"Hey uhm..." Jolyne was at a loss for words. There were so many things to say, but at the same time, she couldn't speak a word.

"Hm?" Y/N hummed and closed her eyes, enjoying the human's gentle touches.

Merfolks would express themselves via physical ministrations the most in the ocean, but she knew well a lot of humans did not share intimacies, or at least not before building a certain bond.

Glad that Jolyne was open to it, the sea-bound girl squeezed both her arms around the human's waist lovingly, forcing endearment on Jolyne, who felt her own heart tighten at the sweet and adorable embrace. The girls wanted to keep each other.

"Will we see each other again? I mean, I know you shouldn't be noticed by the public for your safety, but I don't know... Guess I took a liking to you or something." Jolyne mumbled, still resting her hands mindlessly around the creature's shoulders, fiddling with the ridges of her dorsal fin.

Y/N smiled, a smile that looked empty on her fish eyes, but sincere regardless. She let go of Jolyne who couldn't quite take her own hands off of her, clinging a little bit longer.

"Don't you know this, Ms. Jolyne? When human women die in the ocean, they relive as our kind."

"What? Really?" Jolyne let the mermaid get away slowly, ready to swim off to some unknown destination.

"If you want to see me again," Y/N called out cutely, waving her webbed hand like the very first time she saw Jolyne surfing, "Then perish in the ocean!"

She grinned, diving into the deep blue and splashing her tall tail strongly, giving herself a boost of speed, and disappearing away.

Jolyne could only stare into the horizon, darkening as the night arrived, stunned into place.

"...Ok, that was metal as fuck..."

H2O Just Add Water opening, but with Jolyne, Hermes and F.F

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #reader insert #x reader #writing #jojo no kimyou na bouken #part 6 #jojo part 6 #stone ocean #jolyne cujoh #jolyne #jolyne x reader #jolyne kujo #jolyne kujo x reader #mermaid au #fantasy au #mermaid reader

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rarepears · 3 years

Note

I take my shot:

so i having idea about Demons in Solo Leveling, not like the demon jinwo fought. Like in League of Legends. They are race of spirits with no inherent form, who are forged and driven by the negative thoughts and feelings of mortals. Specifically, demons malign and manipulate victims to sate their own desires for suffering. Each demon is attuned to a specific emotion, feeding on those emotions until the victim inevitably dies

You can't convinced me that Monarchs and Rulers are the only spiritual beings out there. At said above, Jinwoo is definitely have a good amount of negative emotions to attract one and somehow end up in a symbolic relationship? Like every shounen mc with a demon/ancient evil inside them

Imagine if there's actually God (or some being who picked a random name out of the mortal's dictionary as his name and it happened to be God lmao) out there as a spiritual being...

And the religious folks on Earth find out about this - not the Rulers and Monarch, but about God. Think about the societal implications. Think about the cultural response.

If God is a spiritual being with mana...

Does that make the Awakened people his apostles? Or maybe they are the children of angels? Are the gates actually portals to hell and demons are trying to invade earth? Wait, if the gates are tied to hell... are the hunters Angels and archangels?

I'm not a religious person and I know very little about Christianity, so I'm just going to not expand more about potential conspiracy theories that would result from this discovery, but just know that the religious nuts are having a field day with this.

They self righteously demand people to convert to Christianity because if they were right about God, they surely they are also right about souls being damned for doing XYZ things.

(Lmao imagine if one of the conspiracy theories is that Sung Jinwoo is Jesus reborn? I know that there's some Christian denomination that believes that Jesus will be reborn as a Korean man...)

#solo leveling au #solo leveling #solo leveling jin woo #solo leveling ideas #sung jin woo #sung jinwoo #prompt fill #religion

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masterthespianduchovny · 3 years

Text

I’m going to be honest: I dislike Nate right now.

And that’s perfectly fine.

I understand that this show loves to redeem people, however, as I said in another post, you can only redeem someone if there are negative feelings and/or you believe that person wronged someone or whatever. If you have positive feelings and excuse what they did, what exactly are they being redeemed for?

Despite loving Rebecca’s character, when I rewatch season one, I don’t like her at times. I dislike a lot of what she did back then. It doesn’t matter that I know she tells the truth eventually, the stuff she did was still fucked up. I’m not going to preemptively excuse her actions because I know the end goal.

Take Jamie for instance, his behavior was not okay. We know why he behaves that way, but it still wasn’t justified. We are still allowed to dislike him and what he did then. We talk about the negative effects of the bullying Nate received from the players, yet some try to excuse Nate’s bullying and his actions?

Wrong is wrong. Jamie being verbally abused by his dad didn’t justify how he treated others just like how Nate’s father (and bullying by others) is emotionally abusive doesn’t justify Nate’s behavior.

Although we understand the context, Nate IS being a fucking backstabbing asshole right now. Some may hate to hear that, but this isn’t an unfair opinion or unflattering light of him. This is exactly how he’s behaving.

There are some who has a ton of sympathy for Nate, but I’m not one of them. Please believe, I do hold some sympathy for him, but I have a limit.

So here’s reasons why Nate is on my shitlist and I’ll wait until he’s actually redeemed to forgive him.

1. Calling Rebecca a shrew. It’s not the fact that he literally called Rebecca this, but that he immediately verbally attacked the woman. We can say, “oh no, she’s the owner so he had reasons to think…”

No, Nate literally attacked Rebecca for no reason at all. She had little to no interaction with him and has never disrespected or harmed him in anyway, yet he has these intense feelings of dislike in the moment based off what exactly?

Nate attacked Rebecca because she is a woman. If you disagree, what other reason it might be? The reason I believe it was due to her gender is because she’s been defanged so to speak. So he doesn’t fear her like he used to. But Nate also practices in casual misogyny ie his shoe remark to Rebecca and Keeley. That may not seem like a big thing, but how is that an involuntary response??? With him believing he got fired, he doesn’t wait for answers, he immediately attacks her. And I had to ask myself, would he have done this with a man? With someone like Rupert? No fucking way. Nate can’t even directly challenge Ted who is a ray of sunshine, but attacks someone who he literally ran away from in fear in the pilot. Although Nate respects power, he respects male power the most. He skipped over Ted and Beard and went straight towards Rebecca. The fact that this even happened has always been disturbing to me. And Nate is fucking lucky that he hasn’t said any of his comments to old Rebecca (not age, but personality. 🥺) because she would have fired him. Only due to her relationship with Ted and him getting to let her guard down and find her old self that she frowned and shrugged Nate’s comments off. Most bosses at the very least would’ve talked to Nate and he didn’t get even that.

2. Projecting his daddy issues onto Ted. I understand that nate is going through some tough shit and has been for literally decades, however, that doesn’t mean make someone your stand in dad because they were nice and kind. Ted treats Nate like he does the other coaches, but Nate wants a special and unique relationship that will never exist. Ted is not his father and he didn’t ask for the job or the responsibilities.

I understand that people go through shit and latch onto those who made the rough times easier. I get that. However, all this animosity, scheming, and resentment because Ted isn’t giving the attention he wants. That fucking unfair to Ted. He didn’t ask or sign up to be Nate’s father figure. Yet he’s being punished for not being something he never wanted to be. Never even thought about it.

And because I’ve seen/partially experienced this shit, people getting mad at you for not being who they projected onto, it makes me upset at Nate. Because people like this really do become resentful and manipulative and that is not okay despite their own hurt that they’re dealing with. Why does the person you projected on have to suffer for something they’re unaware of and have no obligation to fulfill?

Nate isn’t just trying to blow up Ted’s professional career, he’s doing it via one of the cruelest ways: using his mental health against him. Thereby exploiting Ted’s trust in him.

Ted has literally changed Nate’s life for the better and rather than have a man to man talk with him, he cowardly tries to sabotage Ted in one of the worst ways imaginable.

3. His cognitive dissonance about how coaching works!!!

This seriously irritates me because, on some level, Nate knows that the very system he’s criticizing is how it works across ALL team sports and with reason.

He wants to be a damn head coach soooo bad—does he think ideas, plans, plays, etc only comes from head coaches???

What does he think assistants are there for?

For those who aren’t familiar with sports and coaching, literally every team sport has a head coach and then assistants under them. These assistant typically specialize in a given thing.

In American football, I believe there are like defensive coaches, strength and conditioning coaches, etc. there are coaches who watch a lot of tapes to learn the opposition and how to make plays to hold them exploit their weakness and tailor plays around that.

Like on the professional level there are so many types of coaches and, hell, not all of them want to be head coaches. Some of the greatest coaching minds aren’t head coaches.

For example, the American basketball team the Chicago bulls fired their coach Doug Collins in like 1989, I think. He was a good coach, but one of his assistant coaches had a basketball IQ out of this world. Doug refused to listen to him, but management fully supported this assistant coach. Now the other assistant coach they were grooming to take over, Phil Jackson, if you’ve heard of him, DID listen to this basketball genius. So much so that when he became head coach after Doug was fired, he continued to implement The Triangle offense that came from this basketball genius, which Phil was known for until he retired.

Nate’s upset that Ted gets all the credit for if they win, he does realize that Ted also gets all the blame for if they lose. Ted has always highlighted his coaching staff and everyone who helped him. He has always stressed that he wouldn’t be where he is without them. And when he loses, he takes full ownership. He doesn’t pass the blame at all.

Does Nate seem like someone who’d take ownership for losing?

Does Nate seem like someone, at this moment, who’d appropriately give credit to assistant or anyone else who helped him?

Would he even listen?

What makes Ted a great coach is that he gives others opportunities to step up to the plate and if/when they succeed, he allows them to shine.

Ted sees the fuller picture, for the most part, and knows how to address his weaknesses and who’s stronger than him in what area. He realized that the team needed a presence like Roy on the team. He knew he needed someone like beard who could absorb insane amounts of knowledge. He saw that Nate had potential coaching ability.

But Nate doesn’t understand the importance or value of this. He also doesn’t understand how instrumental Ted’s philosophy has been in transforming the culture of the team. That this is also a reason why the team is playing better.

So like, yeah, I’ll forgive Nate when he’s redeemed. But these three things are what really irks me about him. Just because I understand why he is acting this way doesn’t mean I have to excuse it when he’s being a dick to others, complaining about shit only due to his ego, and doing fucked up shit like leaking someone’s mental health struggles so he can gain an advantage over them.

Does he think that if Ted leaves/gets fired that he’s getting the job??? I mean hopefully whatever he has going on with Rupert works out (before it inevitably goes wrong) because this isn’t going to turn out how he thinks it will.

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #Nate Shelley #I wonder if Rupert is trying to get Richmond back and has some big master plan #I do not want that to happen of course #but what is he planning #probably trying to steal Nate away #and if that’s the case #good riddance #lol #Nate can come back once he calms down and gets himself together

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shushiyuii · 3 years

Note

tiny avian tommy getting put in a specific time out for being a little gremlin by a giant sbi member of your choice bonus if its his first time so he doesn't know its safe

Ooop-

Warnings: Self esteem struggles and Soft vore

Words: 1.6K+

Aren't I good enough?!

One way to describe Tommy Danger Kraken Innit Minecraft? Ultimately awesome! Not only was he siblings with the famous and righteous Technoblade! A warrior, no a God! Who tore down his enemies so easily nobody stood a chance! Then there was the musician of the seas.

Wilbur Soot Minecraft, his older brother, and talented musician, known all throughout the world for his talented music, just a simple word he utters makes you fall under his spell like a siren.

And his father, the legend, Philza Minecraft himself, God was he awesome. He was known throughout as the angel of death, everyone cowers before him as the lover of death, but also with his accomplishments of defeating the Enderdragon.

To say his family was a big deal was really the honest truth, but what was to be said of Tommy? That he was an asshole gremlin child? The probably weakest hybrid around? Or the fact he couldn’t eat meat due to the fact that he was in fact part hummingbird?

Which made usually eat flowers like his friend Tubbo? It wasn’t his fault he was born this way! Eventually, he’d be just as terrifying, legendary and talented as everyone else! They just had to watch!

That was what he thought as he was in a field, tending to nearby flowers and snacking on some on occasion. He thought to himself, “What do I have?”. He didn’t see himself particularly talented at anything besides his weird sense of humour and being able to mend clothes, it made him think a lot about what was to come of himself.

“Tommy!”. His friends called him from across the field, he could see the bee hybrid Tubbo flying towards him, at least Tubbo could fly, Tubbo couldn’t even fly himself. “You okay, Big man?” Tommy snapped out of his thoughts, whatever sorrowful expression on his face faded in an instant as he yelled excitingly, “Course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?!”.

“For a moment there you lo-“, “Tommy Danger Kraken Innit Minecraft has never felt or looked like such a thing known as sadness! Only women! Disks! And you Big man!”.

“What about me?”. Ranboo said amusingly as he teleported over to the two, “With some exceptions…” Tommy muttered, quietly showing his affection towards Ranboo before switching it up, “I don’t give two-shits about you Ranboo!”. To which made Tubbo and Ranboo laugh.

The two walked through the field of flowers for a while until sitting down on the flowers to allow Tubbo to snack on them. The three of them conversed until Tommy slowly stopped to respond so much or adding more to the conversation.

He began to go deep into thought again, wandering about his strengths that were easily outweighed by the negatives, The two laughed but stopped when Tommy asked, “Hey guys, what am I good at?...”.

Tubbo looked over to Ranboo a bit confused by the question but answered, “You’re uhm… Funny!”. “And you’re great at insulting people?”. But that ultimately failed, “I mean seriously.”. And the two didn’t answer, seeming to think of an answer when Tommy took it as nothing to say.

“Don’t worry about it then”. As he stood off and walked to a nearby edge, the two stood and ran over to Tommy to try and stop him from jumping off, telling him to “Wait!” but it was too late, he was already gone.

He opened his wings into a gliding position as he couldn’t fly and gliding slowly towards the forest below. He thought about what his family would say but probably would just get laughed at.

He landed with a thump as he abruptly ended his flight, walking to the nearby pond and sat down. Then proceeded to throw stones into the said pond until dawn as he made his way home.

As he entered the house, he was greeted by his family, but he ignored them in favour of going up to his room, all attempts at conversation as they approached his room asking for either assistance or whatever was the matter with the gremlin but to get no response.

The next day everybody was meeting up in the said flower field, he was in previously. But this time Tommy seemed a lot more obnoxious than usual, any attempts at getting his guard down would only be met with more of his uptight yelling and boasts about himself.

For some reason, nobody could get through to Tommy as he ran around annoying everybody, so in order to find a solution he approached his brother’s best friend, to find Tubbo looking just as confused, “Hey Tubs”. Tubbo snapped out of whatever thoughts of losing his sanity were happening and smiled at Wilbur, “Hey Wil!”. “Do you know what's happening with Toms?”.

The two looked over to Tommy to confirm both their thoughts to see a screaming gremlin in Technoblades arms, being held back from attacking Ranboo for whatever reason Ranboo did to somehow anger him.

“I’m not really sure, he seemed upset about something yesterday.”, “Did he tell you anything in particular?”. “Uhm, I mean- He did ask if he was good at anything, like a serious question and me and Ranboo was thinking about it, then he ran off!”.

Wilbur thought about it for a moment, but before he could come to a conclusion all hell broke loose as Tommy was inevitably causing more chaos than needed, yelling profanities at the top of his lungs for no reason in particular.

“Right”. Philza raised his voice at the boy. “What is going on with you?!”. Tommy looked at him perplexed for a moment until letting his guard down for a moment, looking down guiltily and Phil looked at him in concern until he yelled out.

“Absolutely fine Philza Minecraft the legend! Amazing at everything he does!”. There seemed to be something in particular about that statement, something oddly specific. Despite him often praising his father for whatever he does it was never as specific as that. Just small praises.

But before they could continue more, Tommy had run off the ledge again into obscurity. Nobody really knowing where the avian was going to go, but somebody did know, Wilbur knew. It was a spot he took Tommy to when he was younger and would always go there when upset.

So, Wilbur ran off to find him.

Wilbur took a different route, one that allowed him to hide under the surface of the water, you see Wilbur’s words were actually able to send you under a spell since he was actually a siren. A size-shifting siren to be specific.

He transformed when he touched the waters surface, his legs turning into a beautiful scaly tail and his hands turning claws, his eyes becoming more fishlike as they looked more dilated and fish-like. He swam forwards until he found the avian sitting under a tree, looking miserable.

An old trick should do the trick, when Wilbur and the family would take Tommy on adventures, especially when he was younger, in cases of danger he’d be sent to one of their storage stomachs for protection, but that wasn’t the only thing it was used for, if he was being particularly annoying or wanted comfort, he could also be sent there, as a form of comfort.

He quickly swam upwards, quickly breaching the surface and growing gigantic. Tommy screamed as he was scooped but although quickly, was also careful as he threw Tommy into his mouth and quickly swallowed, sending him to his brood pouch.

When Tommy landed safely within, he could feel the boy kick and punch as he yelled “Unhand me you- you prick!” Wilbur couldn’t help but burst into laughter at this.

“Wil? What the fuck man! You scared me!”. Wilbur hummed in response, still giggly about the situation. “Well, sorry gremlin but you’ve been on everyone’s nerves today!”. Then he went silent much to Wilbur’s confusion, “What’s wrong? You’ve been acting weird all day?”.

There was another moment of silence when Tommy asked, “Wil, am I good enough?”. Which caught Wilbur completely off guard, why would Tommy even think such a thing, he laid a hand over his stomach and rubbed circles soothingly. Completely confused.

“I- Toms, of course, you’re good enough! Why wouldn’t you think so?!”. He yelled somewhat concerned and confused at the fact his brother was thinking such things. “I- I’m not good at anything like all of you..”.

“What are you on about Toms?! Of course, you’re good at-“ He was cut off when Tommy yelled, “I mean like talented! You can sing! Techno can fight! Dad- Dad is Dad! He can do so many things! He’s-“.

The stomach walls pressed in on him, cutting him off. “Tommy, you listen to me now. You may not think much as such, but I think you’re a natural-born leader, you’re able to sway so many and command accordingly when so many people need it, remember that time you stopped everyone from fighting? You did all that by yourself!”.

“You may not be as strong as Technoblade but you’re smart and crafty and can hold your own just as well, you’ve impressed Techno so many times with what you’ve achieved. All of us couldn’t be more proud of you as a brother! We all care about you.”.

He could hear soft sobs, and he continued to rub circles, hushing the boy as well. Soon after, they were found by Phil and Techno who joined in the efforts of comforting the boy shortly. And all laid there for the night, keeping Tommy safe like they used to.

Maybe his family did have the answers after all.

#mcyt g/t #mcytg/t #dsmp g/t #giant!wilbur #giant!phil #giant!techno #tiny!tubbo #tiny!ranboo #tiny!tommy #tw vore #shushi's writings

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copias-thrall · 3 years

Note

How would Mary goore react to hurting someone he genuinely cares about? I absolutely Love your writing!💕

Hello, nonny! Thank you, I love this ask!

This was going to be alist, but it got away from me! 😅

Enjoy 😘

It wasn’t anything big.

Just a few of Mary’s favorite beers (the craft kind—not the shitty beer he drank on his shoestring budget), some of that chronic shit you’d scored and have been saving for a special occasion, and a VHS box set of horror movie classics.

***

Mary comes in and out of your life at will, and that was something you accepted—knowing he was As Is or not at all. And honestly—no, really—you liked that. You had your own shit going on, and being Mary’s expected caregiver was NOT something you wanted to add to that list.

(If someone else wanted to try to tame him and pick up after him, well…kudos to them. Less work for you.)

Mary showed up on your pivotal days and he rubbed your feet and always invited you out to trivia. You'd held him when he was coming down from a bad trip and listened to his grievances and gave him a place to stay when he was persona non grata at his own. And in a way, that made you always feel like #1 in Mary’s world…and that was good enough for you.

***

A few months ago, Mary had been lying on your couch, picking the label off his beer bottle.

“I’m gonna be away for a bit,” he’d said.

“Oh?” you’d responded as you’d mashed the controls on your gaming controller.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ll be around…but I got some shit going on.”

You’d paused your game.

“Bad shit?”

He’d waved you off.

“Neg. Just tryna get myself out there. Signed up for open mics and shit.”

He’d shifted, his long legs receding from around you and folding under him.

“So, like…I got my job at the bowling alley…but nights and weekends are kinda shot.”

You’d tried not to let the disappointment show on your face. You supported Mary’s dreams, and that meant not making an issue that he was finally trying to do something about them.

This wasn’t against you. It was for him.

When you’d taken too long to respond, his face had scrunched.

“But if you want—”

“It’s fine, Mare,” you’d said as you’d made yourself smile. “This is important to you, so it’s important to me.”

You’d unpaused your game.

“Just don’t expect me to not beat this game without you.”

He’d grabbed the controller out of your hands with a snarl, causing you to cry out when you died.

“Fuck the game.” His hand had fisted your shirt. “Give me a night to remember.”

You had. Twice.

***

Mary had texted you occasionally over the next few weeks—a few memes, a few drunken key-smashes, a dick pic, and 2 grainy videos of his performances for critique—but such contact was sporadic, and you’d never seen him in real-time.

He’d blown in one night, five weeks in, with a box of pizza just as you'd been heading out to meet your crew. When you’d told him you’d made plans, he’d looked so crestfallen that you’d caved and canceled on them.

While he’d been there, he’d given you a date in 3 weeks.

“That Saturday I have nowhere to be,” he’d said as he’d chewed. “I can spend the whole day with you.”

You’d been careful not to seem too eager.

“Oh yeah? Should I plan shit?”

He’d crammed the whole crust into his mouth and had given you a doughy grin.

“Why ’’ya think I told you?”

You didn’t know what you’d expected, but when he’d had to bounce 90min later, you were still surprised. (That was hardly enough time to digest!)

“Sorry,” he’d winced. “I gotta be on a bus in 45min.”

He’d left, and you’d been too embarrassed to join your friends who were only just going to the second bar.

Having fun with your man ;) ? one of your friends had texted.

What do you think? You’d texted back before changing into your pjs and turning on Netflix.

***

So maybe you were low-key excited about your day with Mary.

Perhaps you’d spent those 3 weeks figuring out the perfect date—something that said, “I missed you,” without saying “But in a clingy way.”

Beer and horror were two things the both of you were totally into, and you knew he’d be exhausted, so it seemed perfect. You’d bought the boxed set off of eBay and splurged for expedited shipping; you’d borrowed your brother’s old dual TV/VCR from his college days; and you’d forgone your weekly Chinese takeout for the craft beer funds. (And if things got steamy, well…even better.)

***

A few days before The Date, you’d run into Mary on the bus. You were coming home from a shift, and he was going to his.

He’d brightened and waved you over—as if you weren’t already on your way—and you’d plopped down beside him with a tired grin. You’d told him of the latest entitled asshole, and he’d showed you another clip of him on guitar.

Before your stop had come up, you’d tentatively placed your hand over his.

“We still on for Saturday?”

He’d blinked at you a few moments before grinning.

“Yeah.”

“Should I plan a whole day for us, then?”

His arm had crept around your shoulders before pulling you into him to kiss your temple.

“Yeah, why not.”

***

That morning, you wake up happy.

Mary will be over soon.

You roll over and grab your phone.

When should I expect you? :-*

It takes him an hour to respond. You aren’t surprised—Mary isn’t known for being a morning person—so when your phone dings, you grab it up excitedly.

An excitement that dies when you read his text. And reread. And re-reread.

not 2day

goin upste 2 show

You blink.

What show? Didn’t we confirm?

yeah. got me thinkin

why no show?

so i chked

i missed one

gotta do it

Rage blooms hot, then cold behind your eyes and down your cheeks.

But you said we had the whole day. I made plans.

save em

ths is impt 2 me

We’ve had this planned for weeks.

i thot u suprted me

on a bus cnt tlk

You send a few more irate texts, but he doesn’t respond, and you toss your phone across the room with a shout of frustration. You scrub the hot tears from your eyes before they can fall.

And…on paper, Mary isn’t wrong. Nothing you had planned won’t keep: movies, beer, takeout.

But…

It gives you a stark look at what you mean to Mary. He gave you this date and confirmed it. He knew you were making plans.

How long was he going to wait to tell you he wasn’t even in the city anymore?

You fight the urge to kick the VHS tapes across the floor, but you open the fridge and grab a beer. If Queen Elizabeth could have beer for breakfast, then it was good enough for you.

Once you’ve downed all eight, you move on to the jug of vodka you keep for cleaning.

When you empty only liquid from your stomach into the toilet, you grab your frozen fries out of the freezer. You roll a handful of the cold ones in your mouth as you wait for the others to crisp in the oven, and once you’ve consumed the cooked ones, you go right back to the vodka.

***

Opening your eyes the next morning is a mistake, so you take a few deep breaths and go back to sleep.

When you wake again, your heart is fluttering, your stomach turns, and it feels like there’s an ice pick behind one eye. Shuffling slowly, you make your way out to your kitchen where you take some painkillers, drink some pickle juice, and eat two slices of plain bread.

The sense that you did something awful stays with you, but you’re in no condition to find your phone and see what you’ve done. Instead, you go back to bed. It takes more deep breathing to settle yourself, but once you do fall asleep, you’re out for hours.

You don’t feel amazing when you swim to consciousness again, but you feel at least like a human being.

Your phone is dead when you find it under the sink, and waiting the 5 or so minutes for it to charge feels like waiting to face the executioner.

It’s both better and worse than you expected.

You breathe a sigh of relief to see that there are no vague social media posts, and you didn’t drunk dial any of your friends, but…

The texts to and from Mary are ugly.

Apparently, you’d managed not to send him angry texts until he’d sent you another clip of his performing. But then the floodgates had opened.

You’d started with telling him you didn’t give a shit about the show, how he was an inconsiderate ass, and then you'd devolved into incomprehensible, typo-ridden texts that accused him of using you, that you were only something to do when he didn’t have anything better to do, that he was an entitled man-child and if he didn’t apologize, you were done.

Mary’s texts in response range from him being angry at your disregard, to heated retorts you were blowing this out of proportion (and he didn’t appreciate your “ad hominem” attacks), to a cool detachment that this wasn’t working over text and he’d finish this in person.

You put your head in your hands but are too dehydrated to cry.

***

Mary doesn’t text you again during his self-imposed time frame.

You don’t text him either, but that’s more out of self-preservation than pride. There’s no point exacerbating the situation…and you’re pretty sure there’s no coming back from this, so why speed up the inevitable?

The horror tapes taunt you every time you walk by them, and you wonder if you can return them (you can’t). You give the TV back to your brother, and when he asks you how it went, you plaster a smile on your face and say, “Great!” with forced enthusiasm you hope comes across as genuine.

The primo weed goes over to your friend’s house, and the two of you wax poetic all night about existential claptrap as you devour two cheese pizzas and a bag of bbq chips. You talk about Mary without talking about Mary, and you get a heartfelt, “Sorry, dude.”

You beat the video game anyway, but it’s mostly because you needed something to occupy your mind and less out of spite (though that’s there as well).

***

Despite waiting on tenterhooks to hear anything from Mary, you truly don’t really expect to. You know you’d been atrocious, even if it had been prompted by his careless disregard, and you know Mary isn’t really the kind of guy that troubles himself with relationships that are hard.

Not that you’re in a relationship.

So when there’s a knock on your door a week later and Mary’s behind it, you’re genuinely surprised.

You gape through the peephole in shock.

“Fuck. If you’re there, just let me in, ok?”

Fumbling with the chain, you unlock the door and crack it open.

“Mary?”

“You gonna let me in?” he rasps.

You shrug and step away from the door, and he shuffles inside. He looks around like you’ve changed anything (you haven’t), before turning around to face you.

You close the door and stare back.

He folds his arms. “Breaking up with someone over text is tacky.”

What you think is, So you’ve come to do it in person, but what you say is, “Can’t break up if you’re not together.”

He winces and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah…apparently I’ve ‘taken advantage' of you.”

This…isn’t what you’re expecting.

“I…what?”

“Can we sit down?”

You nod, and Mary sits rigidly on the edge of your couch. You curl up in the chair on the opposite side.

He rubs his palms down his greasy jeans before he speaks.

“I mean…you pissed me off, ok?”

You nod.

“But, like—you weren’t wrong, ok? I kinda knew that deep down, but I’m a dumbass, you know?”

You don’t nod.

“And I kinda bitched about the whole thing…but the resounding response was that I was the asshole.”

He angles his body toward you.

“I guess I’ve kinda been treating you like my best friend that I fuck sometimes.”

Your entire face flushes—you’d always thought you’d maybe ranked a little higher than that—and you duck your head so he can’t see the tears that you blink back.

There’s a swish of fabric, and you startle hard when Mary’s hand is at your chin. He jerks back with a Sorry.

“Shit—that’s not what I…” he blows out a breath and puts his hands behind his head before looking back up at you.

“But you aren’t, and…fuck this is harder than I thought.”

So this is it.

Waiting for him to do the deed is clearly going to be excruciating, so you take charge of this whole shit-show.

“I understand,” you say flatly.

“You do?”

“It’s ok, Mare-Mary. It’s my own fault for reading too much into it. I just…I saw what I wanted to see, I guess. I know you don’t need…” you look down into your lap, “…my shit in your life.

He makes a noise low in his throat, and then he’s squatting in front of you, his hot hands planting on your knees.

“But I want your shit in my life.”

You squint your eyes at him.

“But what I said…”

He grasps your hands in his.

“Pissed me off, yeah…cuz I wasn’t fucking thinking, ok? You’re like one of the only people who gives a crap about what’s important to me. And all I could see was you suddenly…not.”

Anger wells up in you again, and you yank away your hands.

“Weeks, Mary…weeks of you all over the tri-state area, and you thought I didn’t care because of one night?! A night you promised to me?”

He sits back on his heels. “I know…fuck. Ok? At the time, it just felt…like the show couldn’t be rescheduled. Our night could.”

Because you’re what he does when he’s bored.

You curl in on yourself.

“Shit.” He leans forward again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, ok? I’m fucking on my knees here.”

You blink at him.

What?

“Please, please don’t break—say we’re done.”

“What?”

“Look, we can go into my shitty fucking psychological profile on why I fuck around later…but right now I need you to know that I knew it was you before I fucking knew it was you.”

You uncurl.

“That…’what’ was me?”

He knees forward and presses your hands to his face.

“The one I wanna spend my free time with. The one whose opinion means the most. The one who was the first person I wanted to share all my good shit with. You’re the one I missed, and—after that awful fucking night—everything felt pointless because I knew I couldn’t come over and jam about it.”

“Mare—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m a fucking dumbass. I’m saying I thought I was pissed at you, but I was pissed at myself for fucking it up.” He sighs. “I’m saying no fucking one was on my side and they all told me to get my shit together.”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, and for the first time, you can see how they’re outlined in red, his subtle crow’s feet more pronounced.

“So, you’re not done with me? I’m not…too much trouble?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “What? Shit, no. I’m asking you to not be done with me. I’ll give you all the nights you want. Fucking text me, and my ass’ll be here posthaste.” He shifts up, and his thumb ghosts over your lips. “Anything to get you to give me that secret smile again.”

“Secret smile?” you ask while trying to perform the action.

Mary actually blushes.

“Uh…yeah. You get this…” he makes a motion across his face, “…when you’re giving it back to me.” His fingers shove back through his hair as he casts his eyes down. “You don’t give it to anyone else.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve made a study of it.”

You’re a swirl of emotions. Mary’s apologized—has admitted he was wrong and has asked for…more—but you’re still hurt. And embarrassed.

But he’s looking up at you with wet, hopeful eyes.

“Do you…” you start carefully, “…do you know why I got so mad?”

That statement was clearly not what he was expecting, and he blinks at you a few times before nodding and looking down at the floor.

“I made a…uh, commitment…to you. And I treated it like it didn’t mean anything.”

He gives you a look like, Did I get it right? and that’s close enough—even if he’s missing some of the nuance.

You nod. “And I know I…wasn’t…the best.”

His face contorts, and your heart sinks.

“You…” he shakes his head. “You said some awful things…some hurtful shit—and it really got in my head.”

Mary gives you a complicated look.

“Shit that you’d been pissed about for a while.” He traces your knee. “Shit you could’ve said to me…but shit I should have noticed. Fuck.” He presses his forehead into your knees, and you can’t stop yourself from sinking your fingers into his hair.

He takes it as encouragement and presses into you before looking up again.

“I just kinda wanna put that whole night behind us. It feels like a fucking ouroboros of fault. And like maybe I created it. But let’s agree to like…not do that again.”

You look down at him, and his eyes search your face.

“Ok…but what does all this mean, Mare? I can’t…I need to be something to you, ok? More than just your friend.”

Mary nods emphatically, and he takes your hand and curls his into it.

“No more fuck-ups, and no one else…can we start there?”

He’s saying all the right words, but you’re still trepidatious—you know Mary, and he doesn’t like constraints.

“I…just…how can I believe you?”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe you even have to ask. He rises and awkwardly reaches out to touch your face before drawing his hand back.

“Cuz you’re important to me. I care about you, and I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”

And yeah. Ok.

#asks #mary goore #gender neutral #hurt/comfort #my writing #original post

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sgtjbbhasmyheart · 4 years

Text

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Four

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2960

Warnings: Itsy bitsy amount of angst, bad language words, mentions of phone sex and masturbation

A/N: divider credit- @firefly-graphics

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission

“James?”

You held your breath after you uttered the name into the phone’s speaker. Your heart galloped at the thought of actually speaking to him. You’d be lying if you had said you hadn’t imagined how his voice sounded. You pictured something deep and raspy but drawled and sweet.

In the last five days, you’d imagined many things about James. Not just the sound of his voice, but his laugh, too. Rich and soothing. And of his scent- distinctly his own or a fresh, citrusy cologne of bergamot and tangerines. You imagined his rough, calloused hands sliding over your skin in slow motion.

And how he kissed. You daydreamed about that, too. Often. You couldn’t count how many times you’d stared at his sorry excuse for a selfie. You found yourself drawn to it daily. It was only part of his face, but what you could see was ruggedly handsome. His lips looked soft and delectable. You pictured yourself nibbling on his bottom lip, deepening its color to blush pink.

A sharp sigh escaped through your nose as you waited for his reply. Maybe he hadn’t heard you the first time? “James?” you asked again. “Hello?”

No response.

You pulled the phone away from your ear to make sure you were still connected. The call-time counter ticked ominously second by second on the screen. You tucked the device back under your hair to find the call was still active.

Did he get cold feet and change his mind last minute? He hadn’t hung up yet, so you weren’t exactly sure why he was waiting. Maybe he was tongue-tied? Or hadn’t expected you to pick up?

“Did you butt-dial me, James?” you laughed, trying to dispel some of your anxiety.

You heard a muffled “ shit” and two beeps. You glanced at the phone’s screen again, and call ended flashed in bold white.

Ignoring the hang-up, you immediately re-dialed James. The line rang and rang. And rang.

You weren’t confident you were going to speak with James, the longer the rings continued. He wasn’t ready to talk to you yet, and that was okay. It had only been five days.

Five days wasn’t long enough to build a bond over stupid Would You Rather? questions or form a simmering crush on a stranger that made your stomach flip whenever he sent you a funny cat meme. Nope. Five days was much too short of time for anything.

A generic voicemail greeting clicked over and rudely beeped at you. You took a deep breath and quickly thought of a reason to be calling someone who didn’t want to talk. “Hey, James. Just calling you back. It’s (Y/N), by the way. I’m not sure if you meant to call the first time or if sneaky ninjas have accosted you and somehow did a crazy pocket dial. Y’know, because of the whole military-trained assassin athlete mchottie thing. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. And no pressure! If you’re not comfortable talking on the phone, I completely understand. I’m sweating bullets just talking to your voicemail box.” You chuckled nervously. You were starting to babble.

“Anyway,” you continued. “I hope you’re well. And don’t leave me hangin’. I really wanna know if you’d rather sneeze every hour or burp when you saw a pretty girl.” You laughed again. “Goodbye, James.”

You mashed the end call button and face-planted into one of the throw pillows on your couch. You groaned loudly into the fabric, chastising yourself in your head. If he didn’t want to talk before, he most definitely wouldn’t want to now. You shook your head in disbelief. Sneaky ninjas, seriously? What. The. Fuck?

Hours later, while in the middle of a Say Yes to the Dress marathon (dammit Robyn!) and a self-induced diabetic coma of ice cream and chips, your phone vibrated. You swat at it on the coffee table with a foot, only to realize you lack the limberness or the dexterity in your toes to retrieve the phone. As a result, it tumbled to the ground as you groaned in displeasure. Cursing your luck, you bent forward to pick it up. Awakening the phone’s black screen, a text popped into view.

James Sorry

Your heart lurched for a moment. With every second that had passed since you’d left your voicemail for James, the least likely you’d felt he’d call back or even respond. Hence the pity party with Ben & Jerry and Cool Ranch Doritos.

James My so-called “friends” grabbed my phone from me and led to accidentally calling you.

Ahh, the old “invade-your-friend’s-privacy” maneuver, you thought, shaking your head.

James I didn’t want to hang up on you, but I’m not quite ready to talk yet. I like what we have.

Your heart flopped. You liked what you had, too, but a small part of you- a dumb part- wanted just a little more.

Shaking off the feeling of longing churning your insides, you thumbed over the screen to reply.

You No worries, James. We can go at whatever speed you like.

It was weird to have the guy, for once, want to take things slow. Usually, it was always you pumping the brakes in the relationship. Was this even a relationship, though? Were all the texting and personal questions leading somewhere? Or were you bound to end up friends with an interesting story to tell your other friends?

Not allowing your negative thoughts to curtail the joy of finally texting James again, you quickly punched out:

You I’m just glad you’re okay and not being held for ransom somewhere.

James It would take a whole horde of ninjas to take me down.

You giggled at the confidence contained in this one text, but talking to a girl on the phone threw him for a loop. We are definitely back in junior high, you thought.

You You sound awfully confident for a man who wouldn’t talk to a friend on the phone.

James You don’t want to talk to me.

You pinched your eyebrows together in frustration to form a crease between them. Was he serious?

You Sure, I do. I have a bet going with myself on how your voice sounds. Is it deep and masculine or high-pitched like you sucked in helium?

James Which are you betting on?

You pulled your bottom lip in by your teeth, biting softly. You smirked as you thought of the two options. The former would be nice, but the latter would be pretty damn funny.

You I mean, deep and masculine is very desirable. Listening to the low timbre of a man’s voice is very relaxing for me. But, considering the ridiculous “selfie” you sent me, I’m placing my money on high-pitched.

James What was wrong with my selfie?!

Somehow, you knew that would get him worked up.

You Well, for starters: I can only see, like, part of your face! Did a blind person teach you how to take them??

You And secondly, there clearly wasn’t enough “Blue Steel.” With cheekbones and pouty lips like yours and a chiseled jaw, I’d be blue-steeling the shit out of all my selfies!

A wave of remorse washed over you once you hit send. Had you really compared him to Zoolander? Not only had you objectified him by mentioning how aesthetically pleasing he was (let’s face it- he’s really, really, really ridiculously good looking), but you may have criticized him for his terrible selfie abilities. At that moment, as you waited for the inevitable “fuck off” text to come through, you wished for a giant sinkhole to appear under your apartment and swallow you whole. What were you thinking?

James First off, I’m a selfie amateur. My past line of work limited my contact and/or exposure to the outside world. I didn’t learn what a selfie even was until recently. Remember, I’m also a man of mystery. I’m trying to keep up appearances and can’t reveal too much.

James What is “Blue Steel”? I’m not very pop-culture savvy unless it happened before 1944.

James Did you just call me pretty??

Your cheeks flushed with the heat of a thousand suns. He called you out as you expected him to do.

You Uh...

You Are we gonna talk about the fact you said you didn’t know about pop culture after 1944?? You are a grandpa!

James Nice try with the subject change! Admit it- you think I’m pretty.

You rolled your eyes. Of course, that would be the thing he focused on out of the whole conversation.

You I have no idea what you’re talking about.

If all else fails--deny, deny, deny.

James Right. Sure about that, doll?

Your pulse spiked.

You never did like pet names before you met James, but doll had a goo-ing effect on you for some reason. Everything seemed to turn to mush whenever he mentioned the word.

You Absolutely. I have no reason to believe that if you weren’t a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie, you’d be a male model. None what-so-ever.

James Uh-huh. I’m going to pretend that you aren’t lying through your teeth and getting back to our scintillating game of Would You Rather?

James I’d burp every time I saw a pretty dame, by the way. I wouldn’t want to take my chances with sneezing in my sleep. Would you rather eat only fruits or vegetables for one year?

Several nights after the voicemail incident, you were sitting in Penelope with Robyn after work. She wanted to meet up to decide which centerpieces worked best for the reception. Scattered across the table were three samples she and Kevin had narrowed it down to. With your thumb, while playing with a corner of the hand-drawn example closest to you, a sigh escaped your nose.

Your sister’s talent mesmerized you. Each storyboard showed the intricate detail of the flowers and candles themselves and what the tables would look like next to each other with every centerpiece. You were in awe.

“These are so good, Robbie! They must have taken forever to put together,” you said, admiring a different sample on the table.

“Nah,” she replied, brushing the compliment aside. “Just an afternoon’s time last week.”

“Well, shit. I hope they’re paying you the big bucks at work.”

She quirked an eyebrow devilishly as she reached for her drink. “You know it,” she jested before taking a sip.

You laughed at her cheekiness. Robyn had always been a go-getter. One of the many attributes you loved about her. Never took no for an answer.

“Soooo,” she drawled as she set her glass down. “How have you been?”

You looked up swiftly, eyeing her suspiciously before returning your gaze to the storyboard in your hands. “I’m still alive if that’s what you’re asking.” You set the drawing down to take a drink from your glass. “Haven’t been murdered yet, but the night is still young.”

Robyn rolled her eyes at your petulance. “You know I worry about you. Are you still texting James?”

You smiled sweetly. “Each day that goes by, you act more and more like Mom. You know that?”

Robyn scoffed. “I do not!”

She could deny it all she wanted, but Robyn was turning into the spitting image of your mother. You laughed again. “You do too. Even down to the eye roll.”

She folded her arms over her chest, waiting for you to answer her question.

Two could play this game.

You wiped the corner of your mouth with your napkin unhurriedly. “If you must know, yes, James and I are still texting.”

“Has he sent any dick pics or asked for nudes?” Robyn asked earnestly.

“Yup. We engage in wildly pornographic phone sex every night.”

Robyn glanced around the restaurant with eyes wide as saucers, making sure none of the other patrons heard you. “(Y/N), I’m serious! Has he propositioned you?”

You huffed a small laugh. “Nope,” you admitted. “In fact, he’s the one that wants to take things slow. He accidentally called me the other day and hung up from jitters.” Robyn didn’t need to know the full truth.

“The jitters?” Robyn queried.

“Yeah. I even called him back, but he let it go to voicemail.”

“Then, he must be weird or ugly.”

You grimaced at her assumption. “Ew, Robbie. Don’t be gross,” you chastised. “He’s the opposite of ugly. I might even go as far as to call him handsome.”

“How? You don’t know what he looks like,” Robyn questioned.

You took a quick sip of your drink, holding up a finger. “Au, contraire mon frère. He sent me a selfie in the very beginning.”

Robyn looked at you, perplexed. “You know you just called me your brother, right?”

You waved a hand at her to dismiss her accusation. “Ma soeur just doesn’t have the same ring to it.” You pulled your phone out to offer proof.

“You can barely see his face!” she exclaimed. “What if he’s horribly disfigured on the other side? Or missing an arm?”

You shrugged. “Then, he’s missing an arm.” You got a distant look in your eyes as you recalled the last ten days of texting with James. “He’s different, Robbie. He’s smart and funny and caring. Polite. It feels like he has an old soul. He calls me doll for chrissakes!”

“Are you sure he isn’t some crusty, old man?” Robyn gagged at the thought.

“No, I don’t,” you chuckled in response. The faraway look returned after a moment. “To me, he’s just James.”

Realization dawned on Robyn’s face, lighting her up like a light bulb. “Oh, my god. You like him.”

“Well, yeah,” you acknowledged, “he’s my friend.”

“No. You like him like him.”

Your face reddened quickly with the awareness of your feelings. They weren’t real, were they? Shaking your head, you replied, ”Nothing will happen, Robbie. It’s just a crush.”

Skeptically, she agreed, “Uh-huh.”

“What?”

“I believe that as much as I welcome a cold sore on my wedding day.” She scrunched her nose at the thought of a gross, red blemish on her face for her big day.

“Fine,” you acquiesced. “If I fall head over heels, madly in love with James by your wedding day, I’ll owe you a hundred bucks.”

Robyn raised a sculpted brow in interest. “I’m listening.”

“One hundred dollars. End of negotiation,” you stated. “I don’t have a spare hundred bucks, so it will be a motivator not to fall for James. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.”

She smiled smugly, shaking her head in disbelief. “Uh-huh.”

“Will you stop saying that?” you said, throwing a piece of lettuce at her face. “You definitely sound like Mom.”

Robyn huffed in annoyance, back-handing your shoulder softly. “Shuddup! I do not!”

You chortled heartily at the mini tantrum she was throwing about becoming Mom. You’d say anything at this point to get her to forget about you and James.

In all honesty, there was no you and James. Not really. You were friends, but could you move past that?

He was hiding something.

Something big.

And it wasn’t part of the whole “man of mystery” persona, either. James was holding back.

He had a hard time giving up anything personal to you that went beyond his likes and dislikes, which led you to believe he had found it difficult to trust.

It angered you deeply without really knowing why. Something in his past had sparked the inability. You only wish you knew what.

Deep down, you could really see yourself falling for James, and that scared you to death.

Breaking you from your reverie, Robyn piped up, “You know, James is probably jerking off to your voicemail.”

“Oh, absolutely!” you retorted, both of you dissolving into a giggling fit.

After leaving Robyn with a clear choice for centerpieces, you made your way back home. After a fifty-minute subway ride, you popped into the corner bodega for some essentials for the coming week.

Sauntering up the stairs to your third-floor walk-up, you steadied your armful of groceries with each step. It had been a long week, and now with the revelation of how you felt about James clouding your mind, a glass of wine, ice cream, and a bubble bath sounded good right about now.

You could barely see over the bags and juggled them precariously. As you stepped onto your floor, you recognized the voice of your next-door neighbor down the hall. He was talking with someone, but you couldn’t tell with whom or what about.

Blindly, you called out, “Hey, Peter? Can you be a lifesaver and help a neighbor out?” You heard the scuffle of footsteps over tile rush toward you.

Sighing in relief, you relinquished two bags to the arms reaching out. “Thanks, Pete! You’re a pe-”

You stopped mid-sentence when your view was finally cleared. Your sixteen-year-old neighbor wasn’t standing before you but a tall man with chestnut hair tied in a knot. Your lips parted slightly as your eyes widened to take in the figure’s full breadth holding your groceries.

Your eyes flicked to Peter as everything came back to focus. He was adjusting your other two bags in his arms.

“Miss (Y/L/N), this is Mr. Barnes from my Stark internship. He’s a friend. He was helping me with some history homework,” Peter explained, gesturing to the hulking man standing outside your apartment door.

“Peter,” you admonished, “how many times-” Last names weren’t meant to be spoken by friends slash neighbors.

Peter winced. “Right! Sorry, (Y/N)!” he apologized. “This is Bucky.”

Recognition crossed your face at the name. Smiling, you stuck out your hand in front of you. “Bucky Barnes, it’s nice to meet you.”

Bucky shifted one of your bags in his arms to reach out his hand. He smiled softly, “ Li-likewise.”

Chapter Three | Chapter Five

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