#with even those who I’m still in regular communication with

[theherothesavior]

Joel Miller x AFAB reader

Warnings: alcohol, slapping (not from Joel), light angst, my shitty writing, not proofread.

Author’s Note: This is the first thing I’ve ever really posted in here for a character so please be kind. Feedback is always appreciated.

Word Count: ~3k

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Three months in Jackson means nothing when your brain is still out there. Out where the ghosts of the past linger as pale memories of a life you never even got the chance to live. No graduating high school, no getting to enjoy college, hell, not even a normal relationship with someone where the worst thing that could happen would most likely have been a shitty break-up and not watching them get eaten by a faceless fungus monster. Every day in Jackson is a reminder of what you’ve lost, or rather, what was taken from you. This illusion of a normal community makes you sick as you walk down to the bar, the only real thing in this fake town that is worth being here.

Passing through the Tipsy Bison to one of the stools against the bar is the highlight of each night at this point. Jack, the surly bartender who’s a spitting image of Willie Nelson, pours you your regular and you thank him, tipping your head back to down it before nodding for another. Around the fourth drink, the familiar smell of campfire and saddle leather settles next to you.

“Rough day?” He grumbles softly, Jack giving him his usual drink as well.

“Not in the mood, Joel.” You huff back, completely uninterested in speaking with your housemate at this moment. He scoffs next to you and your jaw clenches in aggravation. “What?” You ask through clenched teeth.

“Nothin’... just wonderin’ what’s up your ass lately.” He whispers, head turning to face you. “You’ve been like this since we got back here and decided to stay.” You avoid looking at him, continuing to sip your drink, making him sigh and move forward. “Listen, darlin’... I don’t really care if you talk to me or not, but you’re upsetting Ellie. She thinks you’re pissed at her.”

“I’m not,” You answer simply.

“Yeah, I know that but she doesn’t… she even said you came home drunk the other night and said some stuff about wanting to go back out there.” His voice is eerily soft, making you finally look at him. Remorse bubbles up your throat, wishing you could take those words back from her. You swallow it down.

“It’s not because of her. She shouldn’t worry about it.” You finish your drink, a little tipsy at this point, but wave to Jack for another. The next one comes and goes in the blink of an eye, and the next…and the one after that. When you call for your eighth drink, thoroughly drunk at this point, Joel stops you from downing it.

“You’re done, darlin’. Let’s go home.” His tone, still as soft as earlier and it makes my chest ache, the usual rough timber of his voice, lowering to a volume only you can hear. You push the warm feeling of him away, wanting to drown it in the warmth of liquor instead.

“No. Leave me alone.” You say, reaching for the drink. He quickly downs it, keeping one arm on your waist as you lean too far off the stool, practically falling in his lap. “Asshole.” Your voice raises and he immediately rises, towering over you.

“Enough.” His voice, dangerously low as he glares down at you.

“I’m not a child, Joel.” You bite back, but the words slur from your tongue, falling between you two like fluff. “Then stop actin’ like one.” He says sternly, the commanding look on his face shooting straight down your body. Your knees grow weak and you can’t tell if it’s from him or the copious amount of alcohol from this evening.

“Don’t talk to me like that…” your voice barely above a whisper, no real power behind it. You push his hands off your hips and stumble out of the building, boots crunching as they meet the snow. The cold air whips across your cheek as you tilt your head back to face the sky, eyes closed, letting the snowflakes land in your lashes. For a moment, everything’s normal. The world didn’t end. You’re just standing drunk in the snow, enjoying the beauty of life, feeling as weightless and soft as the snow melting against your cheeks.

That doesn’t last long.

“Awe… are you drunk again?” A grating voice pulls you from your thoughts, from your moment of peace. You turn carefully and open your hazy eyes to see Mallory. The terrible woman who lives next door to you, Ellie, and Joel. The same irritating woman who is constantly trying to live in Joel’s pants. Her condescending smirk lingers on her face as you manage to answer, obviously drunk.

“Maybe. But at least I don’t look like you.” It makes no sense, but you’re too gone to care. She scoffs out a laugh. “Yeah, too bad for you, sweetie, ‘cause Joel seems to actually notice me.” You can’t help the giggle that crosses your lips before immediately answering, “Joel thinks you look like a 40-year-old busted Barbie doll.” Your voice, slurred, but the insult doesn’t go unheard by Mallory. “Said…. He said… he thinks all the plastic in your body is what keeps anything from biting you. S’how you survived this long.” You giggle more to yourself but Mallory moves quickly, way too fast for your drunken reflexes, slapping you across the face. You hold your cheek, the cold weather making the sting worse.

“What the hell!?” You exclaim.

“Stupid whore! You don’t get to speak to me that way! You think that just because you have Joel wrapped around your finger and shoved so deep down your throat, you can walk around this town like you can’t be touched. Well… you’ve never been more wrong. He’ll see. He’ll see just what a liar you really are.” With that final threat, she shoves you hard, causing you to fall on your back in the snow. Your drunken mind struggles to catch up to what just happened and how you’re suddenly parallel with the night sky, a searing pain traveling up your spine.

“Shit..shit..shit…” You roll on your back, the cold seeping through your coat reminding you of the large gash you’ve been hiding for a few days now. Mallory laughs at you, bitterly, as you writhe on the ground, unable to get up in your drunken state. Her laughter gets drowned out by the familiar sound of Joel’s voice coming closer.”

“Hey! What the fuck is going on here?” He comes stomping over, glaring at Mallory as she plasters a look of faux concern on her face.

“I don’t know, I think she fell because she’s drunk again. I was coming to help her up and take her home to you.” Her fake sweetness makes your teeth hurt just hearing it as Joel kneels next to you.

“Come on, darlin’.” One arm slips under your shoulders while his other hand holds yours helping you to your feet. “Easy.” He whispers in your ear, his hand sliding down your back making you hiss and recoil in pain, stumbling back at the quick motion and almost falling down. “What? What’s wrong?” His eyes soften as he searches your face, his chest tight with worry as he watches you draw away from him. You mumble something incoherently, and he can’t understand what you’re trying to say. Mallory attempts to say something to him, her words falling on deaf ears as he slowly and carefully brings you back home. “Come on, up to the bathroom.” His voice, sweet but stern in your ear as he helps you upstairs, guiding you to sit on the lid of the toilet.

“I’m gonna take this off, okay?” He tugs at your coat’s zipper with a soft nod, like he’s speaking to a toddler, waiting for you to nod back before actually taking it off. The chunky sound of your coat unzipping, mixed with your drunken breathing is the only sound in the room. Once it’s off, Joel puts your coat to the side before turning back to you. “Okay, I need you to turn around and straddle the seat for me.” His hands tenderly move to your elbows, helping to shift positions so he can get a full view of your back. You sit back down and giggle.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, a slight grin on his face.

“Straddle,” you giggle more. “It’s a funny word.” Joel huffs out a laugh behind you, shaking his head. “Alright, Giggles, I’m gonna lift your shirt to check your back now.”

“You’re not even going to buy me dinner before you undress me, Miller?” You joke and once again he grins when you can’t see, shaking his head. He doesn’t answer while he grabs the hem of your shirt and starts to carefully roll it up your back with his warm hands. Always so warm, even though it’s below 20 degrees out. His whole aura, the color of a diminishing fire. Not as bright as it once was, but still has the potential to burn bright again. Not in the same way, never in the same way, but warm nonetheless.

His hands move your shirt up and you hear his breath catch in his throat. “…sweet girl.” His words, laced with stress and pity as his fingers delicately stroke your bare skin. You shudder from his gentle touch and the cool air hitting your exposed flesh. “When the hell is this from? This doesn’t look new.” He asks, confused.

“S’not… from those raiders a couple of days ago.” You mumble, even in your drunken state you know he’s going to be pissed.

“2 weeks?!” He exclaims, stressed. “You had this for two weeks and it looks barely healed. Have you even been taking care of it? Or are you giving up on that too?” His hand moves and you hiss as your shirt grazes the irritated wound, making you just pull the shirt over your head leaving your top half completely bare.

“What do you mean given up on that too, Joel? What else have I given up on?” You manage to string the sentence together with enough sobriety to get your irritation across.

“Nothing… it means nothing.” His voice, withdrawn as he grabs the first aid kit from under the sink before turning the conversation back toward my back. “Why’d you hide this for two weeks? It looks like it’s a day away from infection.” He mumbles angrily finding an alcohol wipe from the box and running it over the wound making you grip the top of the toilet tank in pain. “Why didn’t you say anything about this?” He asks, a bit of frustration in his voice. You sigh in relief as he stops using the alcohol on your cut flesh, “...because I knew you’d freak out about it. You’d get all Joel about it and make me feel like shit.”

You answer quietly, each pass of bandage and cleaning solution on your skin, sobering you up slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, offended, his hands pausing against your spine.

“It means. Joel, that you tend to overreact over little things.”

“Little things?!” His voice raises, “This is a huge thing!” He yells, making you turn around on the top of the toilet seat to face him. “It’s a big cut, so what? It was fine until Mallory slapped me and shoved me onto the ground! You should be angry at her, not me.” You seethe, the alcohol making your bite not as strong as you want. “I’m angry at the both of you! Mallory is a bitter woman who is obsessed with the idea of me liking her, and I’ll deal with how she treats you tomorrow, but you,” he pauses, lowering his voice as he tries to calm himself down. Though his volume is quieter, his breathing is still heavy as he steadies himself to answer. “...you are a fuckin’ idiot for not telling me about something like that.”

You scoff, “I’m an idiot? You’re an asshole.” You stand up, “You already made me feel like shit about that altercation with those raiders. If I told you about the cut on top of that, you would have started a fight about me not going on patrols anymore.”

He laughs mirthlessly, “Damn right I would have. I didn’t want you going out there when we were out there!” The stress is evident in his voice as he steps closer.

“Okay, I’m drunk, so that makes zero sense.” You answer confused, unable to process his words at the moment. “You just like having control over what I do. You treat me like a child, like I don’t know what’s going on ever and that you’re the only one who gets a say in my life.” Your words are less slurred that earlier, but you’re still nowhere near sober enough to be having this conversation. “You act like you care, but you really don’t. You just want me around because you’re too scared to have your life change in anyway you can’t control. You see me as a burden to take care of, you think I can’t take care of myself and you don’t want me.” Half the things you’re saying aren’t true, you know he’s aware of your ability to protect yourself, but in this moment you just want to yell at him. You just want to make him feel something for you other than the indifference you believe he feels. Something. Anything that means he cares in the way you want him to, the way you’re too scared to admit to even yourself, let alone him.

His jaw clenches, suddenly aware of the state you’re in as you stand in front of him. His eyes drift to your completely exposes top half, lingering on your breasts for a moment before moving back up to your eyes, schooling his features. “Darlin’... if you believe all that, then you really are an idiot.” He says flatly, internally trying to calm the inner turmoil brewing within him. He wants to tell you everything. He wants to admit why he worries, why he’s so protective, why he gets aggravated when you don’t listen to him wanting to keep you safe. “Put your shirt on and go to bed. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” His voice leaves no room for argument, but you try anyway.

“There you go again! Telling me what to do, when I don’t want you to.” You turn, grabbing your shirt and pulling it over your head. “There’s only one reason I’d let you tell me what to do, but you don’t want that.” You mumble to yoursel, bitterly, not expecting him to hear all of what you said. When you turn, he’s stalking toward you, backing you up against the wall, his hand reaching to your waist to stop you right before your wounded spine hits the hard surface. He looks down, inches from your face, eyes almost black.

“You don’t tell me what I want. You don’t know what I do or don’t want.” His voice, at a dangerous level, his breath hot on your neck as he moves to whisper in your ear. “Now, you’re gonna be a good girl, go to bed, and we’ll talk about all of this in the morning.” You gasp at his firmness but you still go to protest. He leaves you no room for argument. “No. No arguments. All I want to hear is ‘Yes, Joel.’ and then go to bed.” He drops his gaze, looking at you to make sure you’re understanding him while waiting for your reply.

“Yes, Joel…” You answer with a small voice. He nods and moves to the side to let you pass by and exit the bathroom. You move slowly to your bedroom, still drunk and even more confused as you drop to your bed with a heavy sigh. As soon as your head hits your pillow, you’re out.

The stabbing pain in your head reminds you of the overconsumption of liquor you had the night beforehand. With your face smushed against your pillow, your fingers tighten around the sheets as the room spins around you. With a groan, your attempt to sit up is over powered by the drastic shift of your insides, a tidal wave of nausea filling up your stomach, weighing you down like a flood filling a once empty pool. As you manage to shift onto your back, the memories of last night play in your mind. Each moment more vivid than the last as they project themselves onto the ceiling above you.

“Fuck…” You mumble to yourself, the heels of your palms pushing against your eyes like a reset button you so desperately need to work, but knowing it won’t. After another five minutes of staring at the ceiling, you manage to sit up, closing your eyes until you gain your equilibrium once again. With an awkward stretch, a sharp pain shoots across your back, making you yelp like a wounded puppy, and ignore the nausea as you shoot out of bed and rush to the mirror attached to the back of your door. You twist your torso with a hiss, attempting to lift your shirt at the same time to see what’s causing the burning sensation on your back.

When you manage to lift the well-worn fabric, you’re met with a giant piece of gauze on your skin, stretching over your spine. With the sight, more of the night comes rushing back to you. You let your head fall back, eyes closed in regret and frustration before looking back into the mirror. Something on the nightstand catches your attention, a scrap of paper. Crossing the room, your chest tightens when you read the words.

We need to talk -Joel.

[aethenia]

it’s fucking gut wrenching to see girls you went to secondary school posting about men treating them like shit. we’re not friends, we’ve probably never shared more than a few words, but I can picture you as an eleven year old on the first day of school and that breaks my heart.

[felibrary]

╭──╯ABOUT YOU

PAIRING: sae itoshi x reader

SYNOPSIS: when sae left for spain you were devastated. but suddenly, half a decade later as the sae itoshi; japan's prized possession and football prodigy, stands on your doorstep, realization hits you: you are in love with him.

wordcount: 2.3k | content & warnings: unestablished relationship, both are bad at communicating their feelings in their teens, sae nonchalant era, fluff ; oneshot

author's note: yes i didn't watch bllk season 2 yet, so what??1?1??1 my wonderful babe still needs a fic, hard to believe i never wrote a single one for him

“i’m leaving for spain”

sae doesn't think he'll ever forget this moment; forget the expression that you made as soon as he quietly murmured those words.

how his bedsheets rustled as you immediately got up, the way your sudden movements left creases in his once neatly duvet, and how the blue artificial flavored water from the popsicle dripped down on his bed as you tightly gripped it in your hand.

from initially laying next to him on his childhood bed and watching the ceiling fan spin around in circular movements while sucking on popsicles, to you turning and staring at him in disbelief — it all happened in the span of a few minutes — too fast for either of you to comprehend.

as if the humid summer air wasn't already unbearable enough, the impact of those words had somehow made the atmosphere even more suffocating.

outside there were cicadas who were continuously humming melodies, and the sound the fan-blades created as they spun around made it all seem like another day during summer break.

for a moment everything was how it used to be a few minutes ago; how every summer passed by ever since he can think and remember.

the way you visited his house every day early in the morning — rang his doorbell twice in a row and how he groggily opened it every time you came over as he, barely awake, listened to what adventurous hangout you planned for today.

his mother ushering him to take rin with him to go along as you dragged them to the beach and stayed there for hours. playing, taunting and teasing, and laughing until the sky was enveloped in an orange-pink hue.

building sandcastles like in your kindergarten days, splashing each other full of water until the three of you went to the local convenience store with clothes drenched in saltwater to buy a pack of popsicles, and betting who'd receive one of the “winner popsicles”.

(in all honesty sae always found it a bit childish as he grew older, but seeing the triumphant grin on his little brother's face as he won and how he stuck his tongue out to you, made him crack a small smile.)

and how the days always ended the same: you and sae on his bed, sucking on popsicles as you watched the ceiling fan twirl around in repetitive circular motions. sometimes while talking about what you want to do tomorrow, future plans or sometimes even spending those times in complete and utter silence.

yeah, it's normal for the two of you to stay silent for a while. sae thinks as you don't respond and momentarily everything is just like how it's supposed to be. nothing’s wrong, it's just your normal summer day. an average, regular and peaceful afternoon during summer.

but to his dismay, that illusion of his quickly gets shattered. “when?” you whisper quietly, as if not daring to say it out loud. sae purses his lips, opening his mouth only to close it after a quick moment which surprises him.

was he scared? no that can't be. he wasn't scared when he told his parents and rin because he knew that they'd support him — they knew he was going to be just fine — he knew he was going to be just fine without them.

but you?

sae gulps down the heavy lump in his throat before coughing, preparing to say something — anything. “at the end of summer break, so in a week or so,” he states nonchalantly, as if it were as simple as that. (it wasn't)

although he should've anticipated your reaction — should've known that you weren't pleased at all about it, it still caught him off guard. “and you didn't bother to tell me until now?”

“i didn't think it was important,” he mutters.

“not important, you say? sae, we're best friends. do you mean to tell me that ‘it's not important’ to tell your best friend that you're leaving for god knows how long,” you retort with slight anger in your voice.

“no, that's not—” sae wanted to explain himself; he wanted to tell you that he didn't want to leave you behind, and the fact that he only told you now was because he didn't know how to bring it up — he didn't want to ruin your day and see your smile falter.

he sighs and settles for a curt “just forget it, i’ll be gone in a week, it's been planned for months now and nothing will change it anyway,” it's far from the thing he initially wanted to say, but does it matter now?

sae sees the way your eyebrows furrow in irritation, how you open your mouth to say something but eventually you just scoff and look away. “yeah, whatever,”

a week has passed ever since he told you that he'd leave and ever since then you didn't reach out, and neither did he.

from continuous door-ringing everyday to a silent house; it's been long since the itoshi’s family home has been this quiet. only the sound of water splashing out of the sink and onto the porcelain dishes was audible, sometimes accompanied by the sound of his mother's humming.

“sae, did something happen between you and [name]?” his mother asks offhandedly, not noticing sae who was peacefully playing with his little brother, immediately stiffening.

for a moment sae didn't know what to say, because technically nothing happened. just a small miscommunication between friends, you'd be over it soon anyway. after all you knew about his plans now, so no need to be mad, right? “no, not really. i’m just busy with packing and stuff, and they didn't really text me either, so i guess we've both been really occupied”

“is that so? today, just a bit earlier, they came over, it looked like they contemplated ringing the doorbell but then left as quickly as they came,” his mother chuckled as she turned off the sink and sat onto the sofa to watch him and rin. “you saw them too, right rin?”

sae turns to rin, eyes wide and full of anticipation. “oh, yeah. i think [name] also came over yesterday and the day before yesterday,” rin murmurs. “i asked them why they wouldn't ring and they looked shocked to see me, but then only told me not to tell you that they were here and left.” he turned to his older brother to look at him, big cerulean doe eyes searching for answers.

sae hisses, and fishes his phone out of the pockets of his sweatpants, opening your chat and messaging you.

sae: let's meet tomorrow, 5 pm at the beach

you: ?

you: mind explaining what's going on?

sae: just come there tomorrow

sae: please?

you: fine

in all honesty, you had no idea what sae had planned. his messages came out of the blue after not reaching out for an entire week.

it wasn't hard to spot sae, his red hair shone brightly in the setting evening sun. “you're early for once,” you note as you sit down beside him.

sae looks up and you'd be lying if you said that the small smile he gives you didn't make your knees wobble a bit, still you didn't come here to fawn over your best friend.

“so what’d you want to talk about?” you ask.

sae's quiet for a moment, looking confused. “i thought you wanted to talk about something. rin told me that you came over but didn't have the guts to ring, so i thought i’d do you a favor,”

was he being for real now..?

you get up, irritated. “if this was the reason you invited me i’ll just go. have fun in spain” but before you're able to fully stand up sae grabs you by your wrist. “wait,” and you look at him, questioningly.

“what, wait?”

“let's talk it out,”

the way he says it so softly and that determination that those stupid cerulean eyes of his hold, almost makes you falter completely. “if it weren't for the fact that you're my best friend, i would've left,” you mutter in (faux) annoyance.

sae doesn't respond and only smiles. “sorry, that i didn't tell you earlier about me leaving. i thought it'd ruin the mood, because you always seemed so happy about the stuff you planned.”

(and i didn't have the heart to tell you about it, out of fear that things between you and me become awkward afterwards,)

you let out a huff of relief. “that's really sweet and thoughtful of you, i did notice that there was something that you wanted to get off your chest but i didn't know how to approach it or urge you to talk about it,”

for the first time this afternoon you take a proper look at him, how his turquoise eyes are intently watching you and suddenly you feel small under sae's gaze.

“admittedly, i do think i would've been a bit sad, but still we could've just used that remaining time to make great memories,” this time you return his smile and sae exhales.

“yeah, maybe you're right,”

“sae, what are you doing here?”

in front of you stood sae itoshi. japan’s football genius; its most valuable player — your best friend.

well, former best friend.

saying his name felt weird because the last time you remember saying it aloud was when you were a teenager.

clinging onto sae, and hugging him tightly before his flight departed and bidding goodbye as he exited through the gates.

after that sae barely texted or called you — he wasn't big of a texter anyway, but the only times he's ever messaged you was on your birthday, new years and his birthday as he thanked you for your wishes and congratulations.

contact “officially” broke after a few years, the little messages and short calls turned into none at all. the only times you ever saw sae was on some interviews on tv or magazines at the grocery store.

“can i come in?” he looks at you through low lidded eyes, before looking behind you. his voice got deeper and hoarse. you think to yourself.

you don't respond — unable to come up with an answer to provide him. what does one even say when your best friend comes back after five years without any announcement beforehand? sae takes your silence as an answer — yes, and walks by you into the living room.

there are a bunch of questions running through your head. “how have you been?”, “why didn't you text me?”, “was it hard to adjust to your new surroundings?” but none of these questions leave your mouth, instead you trail after sae into the living room where you spot him sitting on your couch.

“nothing’s changed,” he notes as he looks around. you sit yourself down the sofa, although a few inches away from him. “yeah, me and my surroundings might've not changed but that doesn't apply to you,” you remark.

sae remains silent but if you were to look more closely you could see that the corners of his mouth are twitching. “tell me sae, what made you think it's okay to come here after a period of no contact? without telling me how you've been, without telling me that you'd come over,” irritation is written all over your face, but you don't care, you just need answers.

“also, wouldn't one normally visit their family first, instead of ones—” best friend lies on the tip of your tongue but is that really the relationship you have with sae? “— best friend?” said person who's been plaguing your mind for the past few minutes now, finishes your sentence.

“sorry?” you're caught off guard, because not in a hundred years would you've thought that sae itoshi would ever verbally announce you as his best friend.

“you wanted to ask me if it isn't unusual if one visits their best friend first, instead of their family right?” sae asks. “yeah pretty much,”

he exhales, “i already visited rin. i told him to get his priorities straight,” usually you'd ask what he meant by that, but you have the feeling that you maybe shouldn't this time and settle to answer him with a small hum of acknowledgement.

“also shouldn't it be clear why i'm here? i wanted to see you,” sae says it as if it's the easiest thing in the world — as if it's crystal clear, and states it like it's the obvious. “i missed you,”

if someone would've told you that sae itoshi missed you five years ago, you would've laughed and brushed it off, reasoning it that sae isn't one to say sappy things.

stupid sae and the ways he makes you sway.

but here you are, experiencing it first hand and feeling how your heart races. still there were so many unanswered questions and as much as you wanted to hug him again, feel how his body molds against yours, you know that you couldn't — at least not yet.

“miss me, my ass. at some point you just didn't bother to reach out anymore,” you scoff. “do you know how hurt i was?” you whisper through gritted teeth.

“let's talk it out, okay?” you feel a sudden wave of deja vu washing over you, as if you've already had this conversation once before.

“if you weren't my best friend, i wouldn't hear you out,” you murmur under your breath.

sae inches closer to you, taking your hand in his and pats over it. this is so ridiculous. the sae you knew would’ve never done this. this is strange and a change but..a pleasant change?

just for this once you'll let someone into your heart so easily again, this is an exception — sae's the only one who'll you allow to do some bullshit but still welcome with open arms again.

“fine,” you mutter before burying your head into his nape and your arms sneak around his torso.

a feeling so familiar, so right.

“i missed you too.”

end note: reblogs are greatly appreciated <3 + tagging @azullumi hey fartzul. there are many times when i re-read your messages to reassure myself, knowing that there's someone out there who supports me regardless of what. tbh, i think those messages really strengthened our bond and i love that. i love how we're able to communicate so well with one another <3. + i hope with the messages i send you im able to make you feel loved enough; that im able to provide you that love that some people weren't able to give you, so that you feel appreciated enough and know that the things that you do for others don't go to waste. your heart is so pure, i love you more than anything.

© FELIBRARY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[amberstruck]

First off, I love your Chocobo AU so much, especially Grian’s creechur form. Secondly, how did Scar know Grian’s name? Or was he the one who named Grian? If so what was Grian’s name before?

Another question-ish, I’m curious about the fight with that creature that led to Grian’s reveal. Like, what it was/how that fight went. And what their first conversation is like with Grian able to talk back.

…and this is getting longer then I intended but I’m also curious what things are like post reveal. How often is Grian in his human form vs his creechur form?

Thank you! I’m glad you’re enjoying it 🥹

(Just an fyi, some of these will also be featured in later parts of the AU/comic, but I’ll answer them now anyways because idk how long it’ll take to release those parts)

FIRST QUESTION! Did Scar name Grian?

Scar technically did name Grian, except it wasn’t just ‘oh look, you’re a bird, I’m gonna call you this’, Grian still had his own input and also partly chose it himself.

Scar talks to him like he’s a regular person even when he’s in bird form, despite the fact that he can’t talk back, so when he was naming him he basically just said ‘What do you want your name to be? How about Feathers?’ and Grian responded with an angry little chirp, so Scar was like ‘😒 Ok fine, what about Kwazii?’ and then another angry chirp, until eventually he asked whether he liked ‘Grian’ and finally Grian was like hmm yes (affirmative chirp). So it was a bit of a mutual agreement.

Second Question! What happened during/after the fight

The creature that injured Grian will be an important feature later in the AU so I’m not gonna spoil that yet, but he was injured because he’s used to communicating in an easy and friendly way with other magical creatures, and this creature was unusually sinister, in that it pretended to be friendly at first, then turned hostile (there is a reason for that), so he wasn’t expecting it and couldn’t defend himself.

Their first conversation will actually be the next part of the comic so I’m gonna leave that out as well (sorry!) just because it’ll be better when it has the visuals

Last Question! What is Grian like post-reveal?

Ok so after a lot of confusing conversations (and sexuality crises) with Grian when he’s an actual person, Scar convinces him that he’s safe enough with him to be in his true (human) form whenever he wants to.

So basically, Scar actually wants Grian to be a person all the time, but Grian is still a bit scared and also just likes being a bird occasionally, so Scar essentially tells him to do what’s right for him and trust that the watchers have no way to get him when they’re together at home.

So Grian kinda just ends up switching between them whenever he’s in the mood. Most of his time with Scar is spent as a person, and most of his time helping out in the zoo is as a bird so it’s easier to talk to the other creatures.

I hope that answered your questions well enough!

This is a really long post so sorry about that, but yeah! Always feel free to ask as many AU questions as you like ☝️ also if you want to request art for certain aspects of the AU that is fine too!

[mionemymind]

Blood Drive

Summary: While donating at a local blood drive, Y/n stumbles up the best nurse in town, Wanda Maximoff. Unable to get Wanda out of her mind, Y/n goes through a lengthy process just to ask her out.

Warnings: Fluff, Blood Donations, Passing Out, Needles, Happy Ending

A/n: Not gonna lie, I think it's somewhat getting easier to write kissing scenes but I still have to look at a tumblr post just to figure out the wording for it. Let me know what you think :)

Word Count: 4.0k

Masterlist

In an era of new politics, the Mayor of New York City declared that registered heroes of the city had to do mandated community service. This was a new mission to help build relationships between the regular folk of New York City and the heroes that harbor it. Because let’s be honest, having Hulk throw your new car at the enemy was not the best introduction for regular people. 

Those who harbored powers relaying force or strength helped out in the trade industry. You’d often see super soldiers helping out in the demolition zone by crushing what was needed. Those with magic tried their best to help heal the homeless or aided at soup kitchens. Anywhere you can unconventionally help, the heroes did. 

For Y/n, it was a lot of physically demanding tasks. Such as helping families move from apartment to apartment. Or helping police officers move accidents out of the way. Sometimes, she would even demonstrate how to safely carry a person through a burning building for the local firefighters. 

Today, however, Y/n decided to do something different. Rather than focusing on the same physical tasks, she chose a simpler mundane task. “Hi there, are you here for the blood drive?” Y/n nodded in agreement to the receptionist upfront. “Just sign in for me right here. Have you filled out the online rapid pass?”

“Yes, I have the QR code screenshotted.” The receptionist smiled warmly. “Perfect. Someone will be with you soon. Please have a seat in our waiting area.” 

Y/n walked towards the waiting room area. This was the fourth thing on her list of community service opportunities to try. She wasn’t quite sure if her blood was even allowed to be donated, having the super soldier serum in her surely could cause a reaction to a regular human. 

After some tests back at the compound, the staff found everything to be okay. That’s how Y/n ended up in a place like this. 

“Y/n Y/l/n.” Getting up from her seat, Y/n followed a nurse in red scrubs to a different area. “How are you today?” 

“I’m good. I'm a little nervous. I’ve never done this before.” The nurse led them to a private part of a huge common room. Multiple stations were built throughout with various people donating blood. “It’s okay to be nervous, but the worst feeling you’ll get today is just a small prick.”

Y/n breathed out slightly in relief. “Let me first get your basic information.” The nurse had gone over Y/n’s personal information but was immediately flagged by the date of birth. “It says you were born on April 2, 1917. It must’ve been a typo.”

The nurse almost changed it to 1971. “Actually ma’am, that is the correct birth date.” 

“So you mean to tell me you were born during World War I?” The nurse was unwilling to believe the joke that was being played. Y/n could immediately tell from the look she gave. “It was the Great War at the time, but yes ma’am I was born in 1917. I’m actually a super soldier.”

The nurse went back to her computer and typed in more information to store on Y/n’s file. “Ah - I see. I’m sorry about that. There’s already a note on your file. It looks like your director has already approved your donation today.” 

Y/n sighed in relief, while she didn’t mind explaining to people her situation of being frozen for so long, it was strenuous trying to get them to understand it all. The rest of the consultation went along smoothly as she gathered the remaining information such as Y/n’s hemoglobin and her rapid pass. 

“Alright dear, let’s get you to a bed.” The nurse led them back to the common area where all the beds were laid out. “Just sit right here for me, right now we currently have a special volunteer today that’s helping out with the drive. She’ll come over in a couple of seconds to help you out. But if you have any questions, please feel free to let us know.” 

Y/n sat up on the reclined bed and looked at her phone. She scrolled through her messages to make sure nothing important was happening. The sound of someone clearing their throat gained her attention. “Y/n?” As Y/n looked up, she could physically feel the moment that time stopped again. Was it possible that she fell back into the ice again? Surely she would feel the same numbness as before. But it was all different. Because from just one look from this girl would be enough to melt all the ice away. 

Y/n’s breath hitched as she locked eyes with her. “I- yes, that’s me.” Y/n cleared her throat, embarrassed at the lack of composure she had. 

“Nice to meet you today. My name is Wanda Maximoff and I’ll be helping you with your blood donation today.” All Y/n could do was nod as she further realized that the woman in front of her was the Scarlet Witch. 

Wanda looked through her notes on the clipboard. “It looks like it’s your first time donating, is that true?” Y/n’s eyes remained locked on Wanda. It was embarrassing how much she couldn’t look away. “Uh yes. It is.”

“Do you have a preference on which arm you would like to use today?” Y/n shook her head in disagreement. “No preference at all.” 

Wanda wrote down more information when a note caught her eye. “S.H.I.E.L.D. approval - are you a member?” Wanda looked over at the young girl in front of her trying to see if she could remember the pretty face.

“I’m one of their new recruits. Only been active for three months.” And suddenly, Y/n seemed to never mind all the questions that Wanda could possibly ask. If it meant talking to her, Y/n would oblige. 

“That’s great to hear. If you don’t mind me asking, do you have any powers that we should be aware of?” 

“Well, I think you’re aware of my counterpart, Bucky Barnes. We both have a super soldier serum.” Wanda smiled at the mention of her old teammate/acquaintance.

 “Interesting. How come I haven’t heard about you before?” Wanda couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow she had managed to miss this girl for three months. 

Y/n scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. “You know how Steve was found in ice right?” Wanda nodded. “That’s basically the same situation I was in but rather than crashing into the arctic, I was in a freezer chamber. I’ve been awake for only ten months.” The shock on Wanda’s face was apparent. 

“Sorry to keep asking,” Y/n never minded, “how has it been like adjusting back to the new life?” Y/n shrugged indifferently. 

“A little rough. I do miss my friends back from my time, but Bucky has been trying his best to help me. However, he has been focused on helping the new Captain America, Sam?”

Wanda nodded, confirming that Y/n’s information was correct. “I do enjoy the fact that I’m no longer Hydra’s soldier though. More than anything, I’m just glad to have a second chance in life. Not a lot of people get that so I’m pretty thankful.”

Wanda digested Y/n’s words and was pretty enlightened at Y/n’s outlook on life. “Thank you for answering all my questions.”

“It’s no problem.” 

“Now, let's get you set up to donate.” Wanda proceeded to bring out a couple of items from the nearby stand. On the table beside Y/n, Wanda placed various tubes and empty bags. Although it was nothing, the sight made Y/n feel slightly uncomfortable. It reminded her too much of Hydra’s labs but minus the dark atmosphere and torture that came with it. 

As if sensing her discomfort, Wanda grabbed a disinfectant and started to disinfect Y/n’s left arm around the area inside her elbow. “Ya know, for being so nice and cooperative. How about you ask me a couple of questions? It makes the day go by faster.” 

Bringing herself out of her internal thoughts, Y/n asked the first thing that came to mind. “You’re the Scarlet Witch, right?”

It was Wanda’s turn to blush. She hadn’t expected Y/n to recognize her so quickly, especially since she just got back to the real world.  “I am.”

“I wasn’t aware that you could help with the American Red Cross as part of your community service.” Wanda grabbed a marker and a squeezable toy. She placed the toy in Y/n’s left hand stating, “Give me three big squeezes and hold on the last squeeze.”

While pressing around Y/n’s elbow, she continued with, “I had to do some training to get qualified. A lot of the people who use magic generally help in other areas.” Wanda marked a dot followed by a line. “You can stop squeezing now.”

“I’m gonna disinfect one more time and then I’ll have to poke you. Are you scared of needles?” Feeling more embarrassed, Y/n looked away as she said, “Yes.” 

“All good. Just means I’ll have to give you a small distraction.” Wanting to distract herself even more, Y/n asked, “Why did you decide to do this rather than something in your wheelhouse?”

Wanda thought about it before replying with, “I like the normalcy of it. On the plus side, it feels more rewarding. Like I’m actually earning my community time rather than going the easy way of using my powers.” As Wanda finished disinfecting, she blew on Y/n’s elbow hoping it would dry fast. 

“When I give you the go-ahead, I’ll have to ask you to give me three more squeezes and hold on to the last one, okay?” Y/n nodded and waited for the signal. 

“And - go.” Y/n did as told, but as she did her last squeeze and held, red wispy magic flowed in front of her morphing into swirls in the air. “Woah.” She followed the magic with her eyes, not even noticing that Wanda had already poked her and started the transfusion. 

“Should be about 10 minutes. Every couple of seconds give the toy a small squeeze to keep it going.” Y/n glanced away from the magic amazed with Wanda. “That didn’t even hurt.” For the first time in Y/n’s life, she didn’t scream when the needles came. 

Wanda couldn’t help but keep the magic up for a little longer. The dopey look on Y/n’s face was something she didn’t want to go away. 

“I told you I would distract you.” Y/n was at a loss of words. Her brain jumbled for anything but all she could focus on was that Wanda Maximoff successfully distracted her. She had a natural caring heart, something the media failed to show. 

“Your magic is beautiful by the way.” Y/n savored the last few seconds of it before it completely disappeared. 

Wanda’s magic has been called many things in life, powerful, destructive, and manipulative but none have ever said beautiful…till now. “Thank you Y/n.” 

There was a small silence as Wanda stayed to make sure Y/n was okay. “I’ll be assisting other volunteers, but if you start to feel like you're fainting, just call me over, okay?” 

“I will.” Would it have been wrong to immediately fake an injury just to get Wanda back? Possibly but Y/n weighed the consequences and none could compare to her. So as Wanda left, Y/n used her free hand to call Bucky. After a couple of rings, he picked up the phone. “Hey, Y/n.” 

Getting straight to the point, “Is Wanda Maximoff single?” 

“Uhh - I think so. She and this synthezoid, Vision, used to date but I believe they broke up a year ago. Why do you ask?” Y/n looked at Wanda who was across the room. Her radiant smile could be spotted from miles away. “Just wanting to gather intel. Thanks Bucky.” 

Y/n hung up the phone, not caring about what Bucky had to say back. Her eyes lingered back to Wanda. No matter how much she distracted herself with her phone, her eyes always glanced back on Wanda Maximoff. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail and all she wore was matching red scrubs. But everything about her looked and felt beautiful. 

Little did Y/n know, Wanda was admiring her too. 

The blood donation was soon over, quicker than Y/n anticipated.  Wanda had already come over, stopped the machine, and disconnected the line from Y/n’s arm. She taped a cotton ball on top of the area she poked and proceeded to wrap a red bandage around Y/n’s elbow.  “You keep this red bandage on for two hours and the cotton ball for four hours.” 

Wanda grabbed a pamphlet that had Y/n’s personal information and gave it to her. “Don’t miss a single meal for the next eight weeks. Make sure to drink plenty of water as well. If you feel dizzy in the next couple of hours, be sure to call this number, okay?”

Y/n nodded. Her mind was elsewhere at the moment, trying to find ways to ask Wanda Maximoff out. “Do you have any questions for me though?” 

Y/n opened her mouth, wanting to ask her, “Are you busy after this?” But nothing came out. And the more she tried to say words, the more silence that remained. 

“Wanda!” The pair turned to the employee that shouted her name. “I have someone that needs your help after you're done with your current volunteer.” 

“Understood.” Wanda looked back at Y/n. “We have snacks and shirts over there but I think you should be good now. Thank you for donating today.” 

As Wanda walked off, Y/n couldn’t help but beat herself up for not asking. She took a couple snacks and juice boxes before walking out of the donation center. 

Was Y/n in love? Not quite yet. Infatuated? Probably. It was the best explanation as to why she was back at the blood drive the very next day. The brown eyed girl paced around all night trying to think of ways to see Wanda again. And the very first realistic idea she thought of was to donate blood again. 

The super soldier practically begged the compound to give her another approval to donate blood stating that her super serum allowed for faster recovery. When no one could argue with her logic, they allowed a special approval to donate so soon. 

So when Y/n followed all the same directions, all the same questions, she was met with disappointment when she didn’t see the redhead that captured her mind. “Hi, my name is Lucy and I’ll be helping you today.” 

As Lucy proceeded to set up, Y/n couldn’t help but ask, “Is Wanda Maximoff here today?” 

The blonde shook her head with a small smile. “I’m sorry dear. She’s not going to be here today.” Y/n couldn’t hold back the frown that escaped. It was stupid to think that Wanda would come back the very next day, but she had hope. 

And as much as Y/n wanted to ask when she’ll be back, she knew the blood center wouldn’t give out information like that. Regardless, Y/n was determined. She was going to see Wanda again. 

It was a new month and a new day. Although Y/n was glad to help a good cause, her hope waned as each day passed with no Wanda. By now, everyone in the blood center knew Y/n by name. On the bright side, the other volunteers were not bad to talk to but none compared to her. 

So as Y/n sat down once again, she scrolled on her phone, expecting much disappointment. Until the voice that captured her heart called her name. “Y/n?”

She looked up from her phone and saw that familiar smile that was ingrained in her head. “Wanda.” Y/n couldn’t hold her smile back as she finally saw the girl that she’s been begging to see. 

“Looks like you’re here for you…18th donation? Look at you being a star citizen.” Y/n blushed knowing that those donations were mainly for something else. “I think by now you should know the drill. Are there any concerns you may have?”

Wanda looked back at Y/n, ready to disinfect her arm. “I-” Y/n’s brain short circuited at the feeling of Wanda’s hands on her arm. It was like everything that she wanted to say suddenly left her brain. But the feeling was just on the tip of her tongue. 

“You know, they should give you a badge or something for donating so much. I didn’t even know that was possible. Didn’t you start donating like last month?” Again, not a single thought formulated in Y/n’s head when all she could focus on was how soft Wanda’s hands were. Because if Y/n was able to focus, she would be able to say that her donation was 17 days, 13 hours, and 5 minutes ago. But who was counting? 

Wanda looked back at Y/n’s chart to confirm her suspicions. “Are you still scared of needles though?” And that’s when Y/n finally got back into the real world. For all the times she’s been back, she’s had to look away from the needle while using a nearby pillow to control her nerves. 

“I think I might need your magic again.” Y/n blushed at the request but felt proud at the smug look that came from Wanda. “I might have to start charging you for the show.” 

With sudden blind confidence, Y/n asked, “Let me take you out on a date in return.” Wanda almost missed the vein at Y/n’s sudden question. She had an inkling that the girl liked her but never expected her to actually pursue her thoughts. 

“You didn’t even need it.” Y/n looked down and saw that Wanda had poked her without realizing it. 

“Does that mean you won’t go?” Wanda looked at the time on the clock and smiled at Y/n. 

“It actually means you have three hours till my shift is up.” Wanda patted Y/n’s arm, reminding her to squeeze the ball in her hand. “So pick me up then. How should I dress?”

“Something casual. I hadn’t really planned out what I was going to do after you said yes.” Wanda blushed at the idea of Y/n practicing this moment. 

“How about this? You and I walk around New York. I don’t think the guys have given you much of a good tour. So I’ll tell you all about the new New York and you tell me about the old New York.” 

“You have a deal.” 

Wanda and Y/n were in the back seat of an uber. The small date was something Y/n never wanted to end but the lack of energy made it hard to keep up. So when Y/n asked if it could be an early night, she was relieved that Wanda wasn’t mad at her. 

Right now, the uber was at a stoplight and the two hardly spoke as their shoulders touched. 

“Can I hold your hand?” Y/n whispered as she lightly placed her hand above Wanda’s. The small smile was hard to miss on Wanda’s face. She could feel Y/n’s internal battle to ask her that. She leaned into Y/n’s ear and whispered, “You don’t even have to ask,” and pressed a small kiss on Y/n’s cheek as they interlaced hands. 

A small blushed and a wide grin appeared on Y/n’s face. “I hope you had fun today.” Looking away, Y/n yawned into her hand.. “You tired dekta?” 

Looking back at her, Y/n tilted her head in confusion. “Dekta? What does that mean?” Wanda blushed more. She hadn’t meant to call Y/n that, but it left her lips so easily. Like it was second nature. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Wanda placed her left hand on Y/n’s bicep and gave it a small squeeze, “Aren’t you supposed to be a super soldier? It's barely past 10 pm and you’re already tired.” Y/n scratched the back of her neck, slightly embarrassed at how tired she was. But all Wanda could focus on was the feeling of Y/n’s muscles as she gave one more squeeze. 

Y/n yawned again, unable to fight the sleep that took over her body. “It’s what happens when you donate blood every day to try and see a pretty girl.” They hadn’t even kissed but Wanda could’ve sworn she was in love. The dopey smile on Y/n’s face would make any girl’s heart melt. The red head mentally thanked that it was her that Y/n was looking at and nobody else. 

“You did that for me?” Y/n could think of many things she would do for Wanda, rescue a billion people, punch a hole in the moon, even kidnap someone. Regardless of how unrealistic it was, Wanda Maximoff was worth changing the tides on Earth. So how could someone so wonderful could ever question that someone would do something for her attention? 

“I wanted to see you again.” Y/n bit her inner cheek, trying her best to stay calm but all she could think about was how soft Wanda’s lips looked. 

The red head hadn’t meant to hear that thought, but she was glad she did. She bit her lip wishing that Y/n would just kiss her already. But something about the way they stared into each other's eyes was already enough for her to feel alive. And for someone so sober, her body grew drunk at the touch of Y/n. 

“So you donated blood to see me?” It was still all unbelievable to Wanda but Y/n would tell her a million times until she believed it.

Their eyes interlocked causing Wanda’s breathing to hitch. She swore she could look into those brown eyes forever. “18 pints and counting.” Y/n couldn’t hold back her grin as Wanda looked away, unable to hold back her wide smile. 

Y/n gave a gentle squeeze in their interlaced hands as Wanda turned back to face Y/n. “You’re gonna get yourself sick if you keep donating.” Wanting to focus on something else, Y/n caressed Wanda’s cheek as she tucked a loose strand back. 

Not wanting her touch to go away, Wanda placed her hand above Y/n’s. So many thoughts ran through both of their heads. Wanda could feel the weight inside Y/n’s mind but didn’t dare to peak. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking…” 

“...I think you’re really pretty,” Y/n admitted in secret. 

“What else?” Y/n rubbed her thumb gently across Wanda’s cheek. 

“I think I want to take you out on a second date.”

“Oh yeah?”

“And I…I think I want to kiss you.” Wanda swallowed all the nerves in her chest.

“...I’d really like that…” And as brown eyes looked at greens eyes one more time, Y/n slowly leaned in and kissed Wanda. There was no rush with each kiss, something Wanda never experienced before. All she could remember was the sloppy kisses and fast make outs. But something about kissing Y/n slowly drove heart mad because how dare she live this long without being kissed like this. 

And as they kissed, their hands never broke apart, instead, they gave gentle squeezes with every kiss. And when slowly pulled apart, Wanda knew then she was love sick. 

Bonus

“Let me get this straight,” Bucky rubbed his forehead, feeling the headache coming forth, “Y/n passed out from kissing you?” 

“Well, the kissing didn’t help but she also donated 18 pints of blood in the last three weeks.” Wanda looked at Y/n’s sleeping figure. Her head rested comfortably on Wanda’s lap. 

Bucky sighed. “Okay, I’ll meet you at her place.” 

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[louisjude]

bucktommy ficlet thingy: coffeeshop AU, age gap.

AU where 22yo Evan Buckley is still in Pennsylvania, (and out as bisexual already) who is barely making his way through community college but holds a steady job at a mom & pop coffee shop down on main street.

p.s. i wrote this all on my phone in one sitting so if there’s mistakes no there isn’t. enjoy.

Evan’s job is his solace, his happy place away from home ever since Maddie had stopped visiting and calling, at least not as often as she used to. It was good work, decent pay and hell he even kinda enjoyed it.

He’s working the front counter one day when the hottest, most gorgeous, the most handsome man he’s ever seen in his life steps up to order. For a moment, he’s lost his ability to speak which is how the two end up staring at each other awkwardly for a couple of seconds. He’s older. Probably a little too much older. His hair is wavy but styled neatly up top, silver peppering through his darker strands and the stubble on his face. He’s wearing a pair of glasses, perched on his perfectly sloped nose. He smiles a little and Evan is suddenly coming back to earth but not before he admires the way the lines around his eyes crinkle up like he’s sure the man has done a million times over through his life.

“Am I good to order?” He asked and Evan is laughing softly, though his face is bright red and burning as he grabs the little sharpie by the register.

“Yes, yeah. Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“I’m sure. You’ve probably been getting a lot more traffic since Picasso’s shut down.”

Evan sighed with relief, because it’s true they’ve been swamped with a lot more busy mornings since the other coffee shop on the street closed a few weeks ago. “You have no idea.”

“Sorry to be one of those people. Starbucks is just *no* and I think I’d rather drink muddy water than go to Dunkin.”

Evan’s laughing again and the guy is smiling with amusement. “It’s fine, the more the merrier. So…what can I get you?”

“Can I get a red eye with just a small splash of whole milk?”

Evan puts it into the register and writers it down onto the cup, repeating it to himself as he did. “And a name?”

“Tommy.”

Tommy. “Tommy, got it.” Writing his name felt weirdly exhilarating. He puts a smiley face next to it for good measure before wimping out knowing he definitely was going to think about it the rest of the night and feel embarrassed about it.

He lets Tommy swipe his card to put his order through and got to work on the drink.

Listen, Evan liked his job well enough and he never really slacked off but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t being insanely meticulous making the easiest order possible for Tommy.

He topped the drink off with a small splash of whole milk just like Tommy said and brought it to the little pick-up counter. “Here you are.” Evan said as he went to set the drink down but Tommy’s grabbing it from his hand. Their fingers brush and Evan isn’t thinking about it because how juvenile would that be?

“Thank you. How late are you guys open by the way?”

Evan blinked and looked away when the bell on the door rang as another customer stepped inside. “We’re open until nine, Sir.”

“Great, thanks. Have a good day, Evan.”

That wouldn’t be the last time Evan sees Tommy. In fact he was back the next day, though with a much less intense order before he’s holing up in the corner of the shop on his laptop. In fact, Tommy becomes a new regular at the shop, either ordering his regular black coffee or something so caffeinated it makes Evan feel like he’ll start to get palpitations just making it. It just depended on the day or rather his mood.

Evan figured he must be working, hunched over his laptop, rubbing his eyes from under his glasses every so often. He wondered what he did for a job. The two didn’t get to speak often but every time they did always felt charged. It was hard to tell though, if Tommy was actually flirting back with him or if he was just being nice. Usually he never had any issues picking up what someone was putting down but Tommy. Tommy made Evan feel like he was melting into a puddle just from his mere presence. It was unlike any crush he’d ever had.

One night as Evan’s closing, he makes his rounds around the shop clearing tables, wiping them down as his coworker cleaned up the front counter. He gets to Tommy’s table where the man looks up from his laptop and checks his watch, which for some reason made Evan’s go a little insane since.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the time.”

“It’s fine! There’s still 30 minutes ‘til we’re technically closed, just getting a head start.” Evan bit at his lip, looking down to where Tommy was packing his things up.

“Still, I might be old but I try not to be like all the other assholes who think coming in five minutes before close is totally okay to do.” Tommy chuckled softly to himself.

“Pfft, you’re not that old.” Evan scoffed, leaning on the table with a little teasing grin as Tommy zipped up his bag. He’d found out only a few weeks ago that Tommy was 40 when he’d come in and mentioned it was his birthday.

“My back would argue that.”

That made Evan laugh and Tommy gave him that look he always did, the same one he’d given him the first time they’d met.

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Uhm-!” He didn’t know why he sounded so distressed, mentally smacking himself in the face as Tommy looked up at him.

“Yes?”

“Sorry, I uh…Sorry. I don’t even know if you’re—and I’m now realizing how stupid this is.” What in the hell am I doing? He thought to himself. Was he seriously trying to ask him out? Just randomly like that with no thought behind it? “You know what, forget I even came over here.”

“Evan.”

He’d only just turned around when Tommy said it, stopping in his tracks. “Yeah?”

“Are you free this Saturday?”

That has Evan turning around so fast he’s sure to give himself whiplash. “Saturday?”

“Yeah, are you working?”

“No.” His heart is pounding in his chest.

“Would you want to get dinner with me?”

Evan felt like everything swirling around him and suddenly he very aware of his every movement, shifting his weight from one side to the other. “Like a date?”

“Like a date.” Tommy smiled and his eyes crinkled.

Evan was going to die. “Yes.” He was seriously going to die. Seriously.

“Great. Let me, hmm…” Tommy felt around and pulled a pen out from his bag and grabbed a napkin from the table. He jotted down what Evan could only assume was his number and handed it over to him. “Text me and we can work the details.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Evan started to laugh and Tommy did it again. The look. “Sorry, it’s just, I’ve been wanting to ask you out for weeks but had no clue—“

“Evan, you’re adorable.”

His face was beet red again.

“Text me, alright?”

“I will, get home safe.”

“You too.”

Evan watched Tommy leave that night and texted him the moment he was home.

One date turned into two dates. Two turned into four and four turned into eight. It’s a month into dating that Evan asked if Tommy was his boyfriend to which Tommy laughed and asked him if he wanted him to be. Of course he said yes. It’s two months into dating that Evan tells his parents he’s seeing someone, a guy, and it’s another month before they’re asking when they’ll get to meet him.

”He’s a little older…”, “Well, does he make you happy?”, “Yes.”, “Then I don’t see how a few years is anything to raise concern for.”

What Evan didn’t mention was a few years was actually eighteen. Maybe they didn’t need to know. It was probably better they didn’t actually.

It’s another month after that, four months into dating Tommy that Evan is pacing around the front door waiting for Tommy to knock on the door. It felt a little ridiculous, like he was 14 again and introducing his first girlfriend to his parents. Except this is a lot more real, a lot more serious.

Knock, Knock, Knock.

Evan is quick to open the door, seeing Tommy standing there in his signature henley top, glasses perched right on his nose as always and a warm smile. The two share a quick kiss before he’s pulling Tommy inside, nervous as hell but…his parents were trying, so Evan was trying.

He walks them into the dining area where his mom is still setting the table and his dad is in the kitchen. “Uhm, mom, dad. This is Tommy.”

“Oh, it is so nice to finally meet you, we—“ Margaret had started before Phillip walked into the room, a bit stunned.

“Mr. Kinard?”

“Mr. Buckley.”

The room suddenly felt tense. Weird. His mother looking back and forth between the two before her hand is coming up to cover her mouth as she gasped.

Then, his dad turned to him, with a look he couldn’t quite discern.

“Evan. Is there a reason you’ve brought home my coworker as your boyfriend?”

end.

notes since a lot of details are missing: Tommy and Phillip are both teachers at the same school. Buck being Buck never thought to put two and two together. I use “Evan” because I feel like it and it’s an AU where none of the 118 is even present so 💃 I’d love to read this as an actual well thought out fanfic but I’m simply unable to force myself to write one, the idea is free reign thought for anyone who’d like to.

[bettystonewell]

MUST LOVE DOGS

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: The Colonel needs to take a leak. Rather than risk the stench of dog piss in their already rank motel room, Dean, begrudgingly, obliges. It’s lucky(?) he does.

Word Count: 900 words

Tags: language, terrible pick up lines, humour, bad puns, Dean picks up—————————————————————Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Dean rubbed the sleep further into his eyes. 

Where’d that damn dog go?

The least he could’ve done is thank him for letting him out of the room. Just because he took the potion and could communicate with him didn’t mean he needed to be woken up. Sammy was right there. And closest to the door. 

The Colonel hadn’t even given him the chance to put on pants, let alone his boots or socks, before he was scratching away their security deposit, and the hunter had no choice but to walk outside into the crisp morning air with bare feet after him. 

Luckily, he was wearing boxers.

Luckier still, he always wore them over briefs and this print left less to the imagination than his regular ones did. 

Dean shut room one-oh-two off from the world and stepped away from the safety of the pavement and onto the gravel flooring of the car park with a grimace. Those tiny ass pebbles hurt. 

He looked around to his right, then to his left, but the Colonel was nowhere in sight. 

Fuck. 

“Here boy!” He whistled. 

“Hey!” he hissed next. 

Yes, Dean was rocking the ‘just stumbled outta bed look,’ but that didn’t mean he wanted to draw anymore attention to himself. 

It was after five. 

The sun was up. 

He couldn’t tell you the last time he’d seen a sunrise that hadn’t involved him wrapping up a salt and burn first, and chances were, the louder he was, someone freakier than Sammy was bound to... 

“Is he yours?” A friendly voice called out.

Fuck. It had to be a chick.

His head turned in your direction to find you standing on the other side of the lot to him. Leaning, rather, because the Colonel’s doggy mitts pushed against your shoulders. 

Where’d you come from? Because it was nothing but bony bushes and an empty street behind them two seconds ago.

“She smells great,” the mutt said, between licks to your smiling cheeks. “You should try sniffin’ her butt.”

Dean’s eyes widened as you giggled, unaware of the perv molesting your face. 

While he couldn’t comment on your scent, you sure looked damn fine in the tight yoga pants that stressed your curves underneath them.  

Whatever was holding up the ladies was doing a marvellous job, too.

“Alright. Down, boy.” Dean scowled and trotted over to you on the balls of his feet. 

Ow. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Shit. Was it that wrong to punch a dog?

“Yeah, ah, he’s mine.” He grinned as he pulled up beside you with a touch of suave to his attempted swagger.

“No, I’m not,” came the expected retort.

Dean grabbed the Colonel’s scruff and yanked him off of you, thumping into the fur of the dog’s rump with a heavy hand. It was the next best thing to his fist. Better still, when the Colonel whined like a little bitch over it.

“That’s enough, buddy,” Dean said with a boyish chuckle. “Sorry ‘bout that.” 

“No, no. It’s fine.” You bent down to rub the mutt’s neck affectionately. “He’s adorable.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Was he game to ask you for your number and play the douche from one of them chick flicks? 

Hell yeah, he was. 

They would be in town for at least another two nights with the way this case was going, so if John Cusack could do it, he could do it too.

“You know who else is adorable?” He clicked his tongue and winked at you, forgetting all about his lack of ensemble just as you noticed it.

“Oh.” The sun picked up the amusement in your eyes as they travelled up his frame and landed in the general area of his junk. “You or Scooby?” 

You were neck a neck with that part of him height wise, and he looked down to see Ol’ Scoob staring back at you.

Now, there was nothing wrong with a grown man wearing boxer shorts bearing a cartoon dog. Especially ones of this calibre. They wouldn’t make them in his size if there was a problem, no matter what Sam or anyone else, including you, said, and Dean stood tall with pride. 

Think, man, think.

He could work with this, he could. You seemed open to his advances, and he went all out with a lick of his lips and a raise of both brows. “Not me. I’m awesome.” He held his hand out and helped you to your feet again. “But would ya do me for a Scooby Snack?”

That earned him a grin, your hand smoothing his shoulder, and what he swore was an eye roll from the Colonel. 

“You’re a bigger douchebag than I thought,” he said, but Dean’s focus remained on you.

“How about the snack first? Meet me at Rocky’s Bar tonight at eight.”

Oh, hell yes.

“Maybe you should wear something besides this so I can solve the mystery myself, though.” And with that, you walked away, leaving Dean stunned. Your hips, swaying from side to side, had to be on purpose. 

“I owe you one, buddy,” Dean muttered, patting the Great Dane covering his crotch and not the real life canine next to him.

“What about me?” The Colonel’s bark had you twisting around one last time to wave. “That mutt might’ve saved your ass, but I got you out here in the first place.” ”You’re lucky I love dogs,” Dean hissed through his goofy grin.

”And you’re lucky she does.”

Read on AO3 || Masterlist———————————————————Thank you so much for reading! I dunno about anyone else, but even if someone with a face like Dean/Jensen used that on me, I don’t think I’d be all that friendly.

Coming soon - Snickerdoodles & Special Sauce - 31/02

(Multiple POV - SMUT - 3 Parts - 18+)

‘Twas the night of fake Christmas and all through the halls, creatures were stirring, eventually on all fours… or …Mrs Butters isn’t just messing with Dean’s underwear drawer. She’s messing with your love lives, too. Dubious Consent by Eggnog.—————————————————————

DEAN TAGLIST: @globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

If you'd like to be added to the list, Imk.

[neiptune]

the pull of you

cw: 1.7k wc, female reader, NSFW, highly suggestive, hinata is your closest friend natsu's younger brother, on a night out you end up learning he grew up to become ever the charismatic flirt who's always kinda had a thing for you :)

The first time you see Hinata Shoyo again, you’re both older but he’s much different.

It’s not that you haven’t thought about him ever after high school. His bright, juvenile presence came to mind whenever you’d text or meet up with your best friend, the memory of the afternoons spent in the room adjacent to his still so dear to your heart. Natsu, ever so proud of her little brother, never missed a chance to update you on his life either. The adventure in Rio and beach volleyball, all the efforts put in understanding an entirely new, different version of the sport he’s always loved. How he accepted a part-time job as a delivery guy, tried his best to learn a difficult foreign language, all while trying to juggle homesickness, inexperience, a distant roommate and a shift in his reality that almost made him drop everything and book a flight back to Japan.

But then Shoyo adapted, just like you and Natsu guessed he would. Because it’s what Shoyo did. And now he shines bright for Tokyo, Japan, the entire world to see.

When your best friend demanded you’d be ready as she was going to bring a surprise, you never would’ve guessed her little brother was going to be it. Last time you saw him, he was a 5’4 teenage boy jumping around with nothing but volleyball on the brain. While apparently his height hasn’t exponentially grown, everything else sure as hell did.

The rounded table is far too little for three people to be sitting around it and while this was supposed to be a regular friday night out with Natsu (drinks on her), it’s turning out to be something completely different.

Hinata is sitting close enough for his knees to be touching yours and at every subtle bump you can’t help but think of how hard and thick the legs wrapped in those dark jeans seemed right before he sat down. Everything else you don’t really have to imagine, it’s pretty much laid out for your eyes to see: his shoulders look scandalously strong in a plain t-shirt, chest oh so wide, swollen biceps and muscles all over that keep bulging and swelling at each subtle movement. And then there’s his smile, a charming grin or one barely outlined crescent, filled with beaming confidence and dangerously flirty.

Because he is flirting.

Eyes shamelessly fixed on you as the conversation between you two just flows. And Natsu doesn’t seem to be the least bit worried about her annoying little brother (who used to also kinda be your annoying little brother) being so interested in asking you questions and ignoring whatever gossip she has about her perfect boyfriend.

“I’m just sayin’” Natsu sways in her seat a little, cheeks pink and a few tangerine strands escaping her bun only to stick to her forehead “the secret to a healthy relationship is communication. And great sex”

“Natsu” you gracefully push a glass of water toward her but it gets brutally ignored as she takes another sip of her drink “may I remind you that your little brother is literally sitting here? He can hear you”

“We talk about everything” he shrugs “I always know every disgusting detail in sickening accuracy”

Your friend giggles. “True. And I do too. You see” she winks at you “he’s not so little anymore, is he? How’s your girlfriend, Sho? The one we could hear”

“Jesus, I’m not drunk enough for this conversation” you bring the beer to your lips and take a generous swig, condensation cool against the pads of your fingers.

“We broke up” for some reason, he’s looking at you as he replies and relaxes back into his chair.

“Aw, what a shame” Natsu’s cheerful tone doesn’t quite match her pout “that makes two of you”

“Thanks a lot” you grimace. So much for the confidentiality of the secret shared a few days back, one not even your own mother is yet aware of. It's your fault for letting her drink, really: the years spent with her in college clearly haven’t been a fruitful lesson.

“Nothing to be ashamed of” she clicks her tongue in disapproval “he was an idiot. Who the fuck refuses to…”

“Don’t”

“… pleasure their girlfriend?”

“Oof” Hinata tries to drown the chuckle into his own bottle “that’s why you broke up with him? Fair game”

“Since apparently we’re sharing everything” you sigh, exasperated “he broke up with me”

“Asshole” Natsu shakes her head in disbelief “you were together for so long, too. High school sweethearts. Remember him, Sho?”

“Ah, yeah” he cocks his head a little “Sasaki, was it? Wouldn’t have guessed it went on, that guy never seemed to be a great match for you”

“Man, you used to hate him” Natsu mischievously hides her chuckle behind her hand when she turns to look at you to whisper “Shoyo had such a devastating crush on you!”

“Natsu!” he groans and this time you’re not the only flustered one at the table, as crimson blossoms on his cheeks you finally get a glimpse of the Hinata you remembered. You offer a lenient smile.

“I knew”

His eyes are on you in a second, lips parted and brows knit in surprise “what? Really?”

“Yes, Shoyo” it feels good to utter his name somehow, it weighs comforting and familiar on your tongue “you weren’t exactly great at hiding whatever was on your mind back then”

“Still bad at that” there’s something in the way he says it, in the way he holds you level in his serious stare that makes you all too aware of his knees still warmly pressing to yours. God, he’s attractive. And the worst part is that he clearly knows.

“I need to go to the bathroom” Natsu interrupts the brief staring contest between you two “please keep an eye on my drink” she rises from her seat, a little unstable. You reach out to support her by the elbow.

“Let’s go together, I can-”

“I need you to keep that safe” she indicates her half empty glass “he’s already thinking of stealing my drink, I can feel it” Natsu narrows her eyes at her brother and he raises his hands in defense, amused. You sigh as you watch her stumble toward the back of the pub, where the bathroom is.

“I never understand if I need more alcohol or less, whenever I go out with her” Hinata’s good natured comment makes you chuckle.

“You could’ve spared yourself the agony, tonight. I’m used to it by now” you absentmindedly drum your fingers on the side of the empty bottle you’re still holding.

“I’m glad I came” he takes a sip from his own beer “I haven’t seen you in so long. You haven’t changed”

You scrunch your nose at that. “Really? I was a teenager the last time you saw me”

“Yeah” Shoyo agrees with a little smile as he quietly takes your features in, gaze lingering on your lips as he replies “you’re still just as beautiful. Always wasting your time on people who should be thanking their lucky star you’ve as little as glanced in their direction”

There’s no reasonable way to explain the shudder that runs down your spine, the tense sensation tugging at your stomach when you lean closer to him over the table.

“And you grew up to be such a charmer” the smile you toss at him is incredulous and maybe a little teasing. As if he was waiting for that, Hinata bites and leans closer in turn.

“What is it that he didn’t want to do?”

You scoff but it’s playful, evokes a smile. “C’mon, you can tell me. It’s just me”

“He never went down on me” your tone is almost challenging, as if you’re daring him to laugh or take the piss.

However, Shoyo remains serious, with only genuine surprise evident in his hazel irises.

“But” he tries to make sense of the absurdity you just shared “he’s the only boyfriend you ever had”

“Correct”

“Does that mean no one has ever…”

“It means exactly that” you shrug, attempting to play off embarrassment as indifference “he thought it was gross. I never asked again”

­In the end, Shoyo does laugh but the sound is unexpected, incredulous more than it is mocking. “Natsu was right. What an absolute loser” he smiles, confident in a way that is ridiculously attractive “some would kill for that opportunity”

You snort out a laugh in an attempt to mask how fast your heart is really beating “I think that’s a little extreme, I don’t know a single man who would kill to-”

“I would” Shoyo tilts his head as he studies your flustered features, imagination already running wild as he asks himself if you’d look the same while straddling his face.

“You don’t mean that”

“Oh, I mean that. I think you know exactly how much I mean that. I’m terrible at hiding what’s on my mind, after all” he gently unclasps your hand from around the beer bottle, places it on the table and turns the palm upwards, thumb tracing lazy figures on your wrist “I’ll tell you, if you want to know”

He’s not hesitating, only granting you a way out of the conversation. But do you want a way out? No one’s ever looked at you like that, with fierce determination burning behind warm, genuine affection. You know Hinata, he’s never been a liar and you doubt he’s grown to be one.

“I want to know” you find yourself murmuring, entranced by a stare that holds you hostage in the best way. He smiles, rough thumb applying the slightest pressure to your skin as it moves in circles.

“I’d first have you on my knees and against the wall. I’d want to see you, find out what makes your legs give out the quickest. I’m afraid that’s all the patience you’d get from me” his other hand sneaks beneath the table and closes around your knee, wide and warm “I’d turn you around, eat you out from behind until you can’t stand anymore, until I’d have to carry you to my bed and have you sit on my face to take what you need from me. I could go all night, have you cream on my tongue, on my face, over and over again. I’d make up for all the years you spent with that jerk, in one single night” and then maybe you’d never want to leave, he mentally adds. “I know you’d want that too” he says instead, mischievous glint in his eyes. Your mouth feels so dry.

“What makes you think that?” surprisingly, you manage to string five words together. Hinata smiles and he looks as beautiful as ever underneath the golden, dim lights of the pub.

“I can feel how hard you’re clenching your legs right now”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hey! I'm not sure you still do those, but I saw you giving advice to people in your inbox before and I'm kinda in the need of some. Do you have any tips on describing gesticulation/hand movement? Thank you in advance!

Writing Notes: Hand Movements

Kinesics - refers to body movements and posture

Includes the following components: gestures, head movements and posture, eye contact, and facial expressions.

Comes from the root word kinesis, which means “movement,” and refers to the study of hand, arm, body, and face movements.

Gestures - arm and hand movements; include adaptors like clicking a pen or scratching your face, emblems like a thumbs-up to say “OK,” and illustrators like bouncing your hand along with the rhythm of your speaking.

There are 3 main types of gestures: adaptors, emblems, and illustrators (Andersen, 1999).

Adaptors - touching behaviors and movements that indicate internal states typically related to arousal or anxiety. Adaptors can be targeted toward the self, objects, or others. In regular social situations, adaptors result from uneasiness, anxiety, or a general sense that we are not in control of our surroundings. Many of us subconsciously click pens, shake our legs, or engage in other adaptors during classes, meetings, or while waiting as a way to do something with our excess energy. Public speaking students who watch video recordings of their speeches notice nonverbal adaptors that they didn’t know they used. In public speaking situations, people most commonly use self- or object-focused adaptors. Common self-touching behaviors like scratching, twirling hair, or fidgeting with fingers or hands are considered self-adaptors. Some self-adaptors manifest internally, as coughs or throat-clearing sounds. My personal weakness is object adaptors. Specifically, I subconsciously gravitate toward metallic objects like paper clips or staples holding my notes together and catch myself bending them or fidgeting with them while I’m speaking. Other people play with dry-erase markers, their note cards, the change in their pockets, or the lectern while speaking. Use of object adaptors can also signal boredom as people play with the straw in their drink or peel the label off a bottle of beer. Smartphones have become common object adaptors, as people can fiddle with their phones to help ease anxiety. Finally, as noted, other adaptors are more common in social situations than in public speaking situations given the speaker’s distance from audience members. Other adaptors involve adjusting or grooming others, similar to how primates like chimpanzees pick things off each other. It would definitely be strange for a speaker to approach an audience member and pick lint off his or her sweater, fix a crooked tie, tuck a tag in, or pat down a flyaway hair in the middle of a speech.

Emblems - are gestures that have a specific agreed-on meaning. These are still different from the signs used by hearing-impaired people or others who communicate using American Sign Language (ASL). Even though they have a generally agreed-on meaning, they are not part of a formal sign system like ASL that is explicitly taught to a group of people. A hitchhiker’s raised thumb, the “OK” sign with thumb and index finger connected in a circle with the other three fingers sticking up, and the raised middle finger are all examples of emblems that have an agreed-on meaning or meanings with a culture. Emblems can be still or in motion; for example, circling the index finger around at the side of your head says “He or she is crazy,” or rolling your hands over and over in front of you says “Move on.” Just as we can trace the history of a word, or its etymology, we can also trace some nonverbal signals, especially emblems, to their origins. Holding up the index and middle fingers in a “V” shape with the palm facing in is an insult gesture in Britain that basically means “up yours.” This gesture dates back centuries to the period in which the primary weapon of war was the bow and arrow. When archers were captured, their enemies would often cut off these two fingers, which was seen as the ultimate insult and worse than being executed since the archer could no longer shoot his bow and arrow. So holding up the two fingers was a provoking gesture used by archers to show their enemies that they still had their shooting fingers (Pease & Pease, 2004).

Illustrators - are the most common type of gesture and are used to illustrate the verbal message they accompany. For example, you might use hand gestures to indicate the size or shape of an object. Unlike emblems, illustrators do not typically have meaning on their own and are used more subconsciously than emblems. These largely involuntary and seemingly natural gestures flow from us as we speak but vary in terms of intensity and frequency based on context. Although we are never explicitly taught how to use illustrative gestures, we do it automatically. Think about how you still gesture when having an animated conversation on the phone even though the other person can’t see you.

Haptics - refers to touch behaviors that convey meaning during interactions. Touch operates at many levels, including functional-professional, social-polite, friendship-warmth, and love-intimacy.

We all make spontaneous hand movements, called gestures, when we talk. There are several different types of gestures that serve different purposes:

Co-Speech Gestures - Gestures that we produce spontaneously while talking.

Iconic Gestures - Hand movements that create pictures to describe objects or actions.

Beat Gestures - Repeated hand movements that follow the rhythm of speech.

Deictic Gestures - Gestures that direct the listener’s attention, such as pointing.

Examples of Gestures around the World

Argentina: “Be careful” - If you want to tell someone to be careful or watch out for their surroundings, just put your index finger below your eye and gently pull down.

Brazil: “It’s just gossip” - If you hear someone spreading stories that aren’t true, you can tap the underside of your jaw with the back of your hand. This signifies that what they’re saying is just gossip.

China: “Thank you” - Rest the palm of one hand on the fist of your other hand and give a slight bow.

France: “It’s easy” - You’re talking to someone from France, complaining about a difficult task. If they disagree with you, they might hold up two fingers toward their nostrils, meaning “It’s as easy as this!”

Germany: “Good luck” - If you’d like to wish someone luck in Germany, don’t cross your fingers. Instead, you need to press your thumbs (enclose them in your fists).

India: “Warm regards” - In India, you might see someone pressing their palms together as they greet you. It’s a sign of acceptance, warm regards and respect.

Korea: “I love/appreciate you” - A popular hand gesture in Korea to express love or appreciation is the finger heart, made by putting your thumb and index finger together in a kind of “x” that looks like a heart.

Mexico: “A lot” - To convey that there’s a lot of something, join all five fingers together and then shake your hand. You can use one hand or both hands for this one.

Poland: “That will never happen” - If someone tells you something you don’t believe, try pointing to your palm with your index finger. This means “A cactus would sooner grow on my hand”—in other words, “That will never happen.”

Spain: “Do you get it?” - If a Spanish person wants to check that you understand something they said (a joke, for instance), they might hold out their finger and thumb, as though they’re holding a very small item, and make a gentle twisting motion.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hope this helps with your writing! (Yup, still do these. Usually in one sitting whenever I find free time, then they all get queued.)

[ereawrites]

Hey gurl✨ I’m in my wife era rn so maybe some Shisui and/or Tobirama husband/jealous husband hcs?🫣 I loooovee your writing and tbh your thoughts are my thoughts so no pressure😩 If you not feeling it feel free to ignore me babe🧚🏻‍♀️

YOU HAVE FED ME SO GOOD MISS GIRL! under the cut for length

shisui

this isn't too relevant but I have to include it. it's too cute. I definitely see shisui getting married pretty young, like early 20s. if he finds his person he's going for it. probably gets a lot of shit for it from his family, but he doesn't care

loooong honeymoon period. in part because they're still a young couple but also... shisui is just a really devoted husband. he loves the married life. insists on kissing her goodbye every morning, eating together every night, stuff like that

LOVES DECORATING THEIR HOUSE are u kidding me. let's say they get a kinda shitty place right after they get married, and put a tonne of work into doing it up. he gets so into painting, building the furniture, even starts up a little herb garden in their kitchen

finds so many ways to drop his wife into conversation lol. he's down bad even after the honeymoon period ends, so he wants to show her off. his FAV is when she swings by his workplace to bring him his 'forgotten' lunch. he turns around to the rest of the guys like. yeah. that's my WIFE. isn't she hot.

very much a believer in keeping the romance alive. he wants to keep making the effort with her until the day he dies. veryyyy good at remembering anniversaries, scheduling regular date nights, etc. always makes sure she has fresh flowers in the house

obviously it isn't all perfect though. especially while they're young (and presumably both still active, high-ranking shinobi) their schedules keep them apart a lot. and this hits shisui really hard tbh. he hates coming back to an empty home after a long mission, knowing he might not even see his wife before he has to leave again

work is probably where most of their arguments stem from, actually. I don't see it being a regular thing, but it's easy for resentment to build in those kinds of situations. shisui is very torn between his love for his village, and his love for his wife, and the fact he can't prioritise both. thankfully shisui is a good communicator so they make things work.

in terms of jealousy... I don't see it being a common thing. maybe before they get married he tends towards it a bit more, but once she's his wife, why would he worry? she's his entire world and he knows she loves him just as much

the only way I rly see him getting jealous at all is if they're going through a bit of a rough patch for the reasons mentioned above. maybe they haven't seen each other in weeks, and they both get back from a mission on the same day. and there's some kind of event/function that evening that they have to attend

so they barely have a chance to acknowledge each other, before they're pulled apart again by the crowd. so if shisui sees some random guy getting a little too close and flirty with her, he gets more annoyed than he'd like to admit

even then though.. he's not necessarily jealous as much as he is upset. like goddamn just let this poor man have his beloved wife to himself for a night. in this situation he's more likely to behave more rashly than usual, and he might just make some excuses and take her home lol. he gets a little bit pouty until she gives him some attention

overall, though, he's very chill. he trusts her implicitly, and expects the same from her. they need to have a very honest, respectful relationship if he's going to wife her up

god okay and in old age they're so cute together. I bet they have a bunch of kids (probably accidentally tbh lol) so then they end up with a whole squadron of grandchildren. he's that fun grandpa who sneaks them sweets when the parents aren't looking. all the grandbabies want to sleep over at their house. and they LOVE it.

to sum up: very good husband. very relaxed, communicates well, makes her feel loved every day. why did he have to die I want to throw myself off a bridge.

tobirama

first of all. good job to this woman. wrangling tobirama into marriage is not an easy job. he's so fucking ANNOYING. it probably takes him years to confess he even has feelings for her, let alone ask for her hand in marriage

but once he gets there. it's pretty cute. he doesn't really act very differently for the most part - he'd already decided his heart belonged to her well before they married, and wholly committed. so his behaviour doesn't change much, and there isn't much of a honeymoon period. sorry. he's like marriage is just a contractual agreement why would it change anything between us

he does make a few little indulgences though. he gets this smug little look every time he introduces her as his wife. he's actually just a lot more prone to 'showing her off' in general, and more likely to show some physical affection in public. for tobirama that's maybe a peck on the cheek lol. but it's progress

he's definitely a lot.... gentler?idk. with her once they're married as well. he makes an effort to be more patient and less snippy, and shows his appreciation for her in a lot of quiet little ways. for example, he'll be sure to leave work on time no matter how busy it is if he knows she's putting a lot of effort into dinner that night. or if she spends a second too long looking at a new dress in the store, he's buying it for her

on that note. tobirama is such a provider once they're married. he does have that traditional idea of providing for his wife. he'll probably ask her if she wants to become a stay at home wife tbh. if she says yes, he still expects her to get out in the community of course. he'd love if she did volunteering work, maybe at the hospital or with kids or something. but he's also equally happy for her to keep working. power couple vibes very strong

they have a nice, quiet little house away from the village where no one bothers then and they loooove it. especially tobirama, his wife and their home are his sanctuary. everyone else gtfo

other than that, not much is really different from before their marriage. they probably actually lead quite independent lives, to the point where people don't even know they're married until tobirama drops it into conversation a few months later. they're very private and lowkey.

unfortunately for her, tobirama's paranoia also persists. he's a bit delulu sometimes lol and she knows this going in. but it does inevitably cause some issues, especially if she's headstrong (which is definitely the type of woman he ends up with)

he trusts his wife more than anything. he would never doubt her for a second. but other men? the enemy. not to be trusted. they're all dogs. it drives him absolutely batshit crazy to watch them ogling her, or god forbid trying to flirt with her. which is actually kinda common bc they're such a lowkey couple, so people assume she's single

tobirama isn't one to make a scene per se, but this definitely leads to a few awkward situations in public, and she probably ends up embarrassed a few times. and there's 10000% arguments behind closed doors. I don't see either of them being good with this lol. he acts like she's his political enemy he's ridiculous

but because he loves her so much, and he actually really wants to put work into the longevity of their marriage, he'll come around. he's a lot softer and more willing to compromise when it comes to her. but she can't point that out because he's mortified

over time, he chills out a lot more. they're one of those couples that just get stronger and better with time. they grow a lot together, and although they probably continue to disagree a lot throughout their marriage, it's always in a way that leaves their relationship stronger. and he only gets softer for her. people (hashirama) even start to point out how devoted he is and he can't even deny it. cute

overall a kind of difficult husband, because he is an exceptionally difficult man, but my god he loves her so much. he would do anything to make her happy.

[bitch-for-a-rainbow]

Day 23: Plumerias

Benny knows his graves.

He’s been keeping the grounds here for almost 43 years now. He’s tended these gardens through a pandemic, three alien invasions, and the brief fad of people shipping their remains into the sun. The world changes, but people always come back to good old stone. He’s seen the new graves with their fresh lettering and regular visits, he’s come to know the families of the older graves, regular visitors even after 20 years, and he knows the old graves, the ones with partially worn away names and no one left to mourn. Jaden has been telling him to retire but he just can’t bring himself to go. Sure the “retirement community” will be comfortable, but these are his people, his stones. If he left now, what would he do with himself? Who would clean the old stones?

Some of the older stones still get visitors, of course, or the occasional cleaning. A few famous actors are buried here, soldiers whose graves have become memorials to their various wars more than any individual celebration of life, and one old grave, where, every year, on October 10th, a small bouquet appears. There’s never a note left, and in the decades Benny has worked here, he’s never actually caught a guest with the peculiar branch of flowers. But nonetheless every year they appear.

It’s not that Lena Luthor lacks visitors precisely. Famous inventors with dramatic life stories usually get their fair share, add on her help against the Daxamites and that movie that came out a few years ago and Lena certainly had her fans. But still, she’d died when Benny was still a young man, and the flowers came every single year. She’d no family left these days. The wife had passed a few months after her. He’d thought for a while it might have been her children, but they had followed not long ago and the grandchildren were too scattered to be involved. He’d tried searching for some Lena Luthor Fan Club, some charity she’d founded or donated to (an annoyingly dense list). He’d even checked her biography for the significance of the date itself, but all he’d found was a botched assassination attempt in a long list of botched assassination attempts. If there’s a significance to this one, Benny can’t find it. Hell, she hadn’t even met Supergirl for few days.

It’s a surprise then, as he rakes the leaves, when he sees a figure standing alone before the grave, small bouquet clutched in one hand. He approaches quietly. He’s become an excellent lurker— part of the job, really— and watches. The woman is young, blond hair in loose curls around her shoulders. She fiddles with a wedding band as she speaks to the grave, too soft for Benny to hear.

She pauses after a while, and, without looking up, calls, “So are you just going to stand there or say hello?”

Benny straightens quickly. She hadn’t looked at him once. He’s sure he was quiet.

“I’m Benny.” He says, walking over as casually as one can after being caught snooping. “Fan of hers?”

“Something like that.” The woman says.

“You’re the new one then?” He asks.

“Hmm?” The woman looks up at him, and Benny gets his first real look at her face. She is young, maybe in her mid-thirties. Her glasses ever so slightly askew, a permanent crinkle has formed between her brows, only accentuated by the confused way she stares at him. Her blue eyes are tinged red. She’s been crying.

“The flowers? Somebody brings them every year. It’s you now?” The woman glances down at the bouquet in her hand as though she’d forgotten it was there.

“Oh. Yes. Plumerias. They were her favorite.” They stand in awkward silence for a few moments.

Finally Benny starts up again, “So, is it for a research group? Or some charity organizes the drop-off?”

“What? No. No, it’s just me.”

Benny fixes her with a look. “Just you. Every year?”

The woman shrugs. “Just me.”

“Aren’t you a bit young for that?” He asks.

“Didn’t realize dropping off flowers had an age requirement.”

“Those flowers have been showing up since before you were born.”

“And how should you know when that was?” That gets his attention. He freezes halfway to forming a rebuttal and stares at her. She stares back, challenge in her eyes, before her face cracks with a smile and she begins to laugh.

“I’m sorry, sorry, it’s—” The woman gasps for breath between giggles. Finally, she cracks out. “It’s just been a really long year.”

“Suppose it has. Plenty of new graves this year.” He thinks of the new lot in the east gardens. The one marked with a placard to remember the victims of Braniac’s invasion. “More than plenty. What’s got you visiting this one?”

The woman shrugs again. “Sometimes I like to talk to her. Ask for advice.” She continues quieter, more somber. “Sometimes I wish I could just ask her what I’m supposed to do. She always knew exactly what to say.” The woman pauses. “She’d handle all this so much better than I ever could.”

“Maybe she would. Maybe she wouldn’t,” Benny says. “It’s easy to imagine the dead have all the answers, but they were only people once too. Nobody’s born a hero. I’m sure when she was alive she had her own grave to talk to, and the same idea.”

The woman laughs again, lighter this time. “She always had this little bobble-head statuette of Einstein that she kept in her desk. Said if she read her research out to him, he’d show her where the errors were. She hated superstition but get between her and that little Einstein…” The woman’s face shadows. “I used to hate how quickly the time passed. Now it all passes so slowly. And for what?”

“Come on, now.” Benny says, soothing. A bit of a superfan then. Not all that unusual. At least he’d been right about the fan club. “You’re still young. Just give it time. You’ve got plenty of years left to build something out of.”

“Yeah. I suppose I do.” She doesn’t seem as comforted by that notion as Benny would have hoped. Young people, he thinks, always rushing around. Expecting life out of every moment.

They’re silent again for a while. Then the woman lays the bouquet on the grave, whispering something in a language Benny has never heard. She lays a gentle hand on the stone, before turning to Benny. Her smile is genuine, if weak.

“Thank you for keeping her stone clean.” She steps lightly away from the grave, heading back along the path, and Benny realizes he never got her name.

“Wait! Who—”

But when he turns, there’s nothing left but leaves dancing in the autumn chill.

Well, there’s always next time, he supposes. Jared will just have to wait another year.

[agathaisinnocent]

The Theatre is Dark

Omg hi, first post <3 I guess this is angst. Reader and Agatha are stupid and then fight about it

When you first met Agatha you clicked. Quickly becoming close friends who barely saw each other. Staying in contact mostly through text as Agatha traveled a lot and lived out of state at that time. New Jersey was never worth visiting as she put it, so you never did. She came for your birthday that year, telling you she would be moving a few blocks away from you. The next couple of years were full of you two growing closer, having dinner together, running errands, and you watching her push away woman after woman.

With each woman something new grew inside your chest, an aching pull to her that fluttered into your stomach about a month ago. She walked into your house, no knock, the sunlight perfectly illuminated her eyes and cheekbones. You knew then you were fucked, but her stare matched yours. Her eyes sweeping over you in the new jeans you bought, a glint of something unfamiliar in her gaze.

Since then she had opened up more to you, been more vulnerable. That aching pull grabbing at your heart and you fought the urge to hold her each time. Instead of sharing takeout on the couch, you two started going to dinner, fighting over who paid. Stolen glances over wine glasses mixed with the hour long chats after made the feelings between you two grow stronger, Agatha pacing in her bedroom regularly about it.

There were so many moments at those dinners the line was almost crossed, until Agatha would snap back to reality. Any hints of softnes replaced by her regular demeanor, walls slamming shut. This particular night you were tired of pretending both of you didn’t know, casually asking over sushi, “Any ladies caught your eyes lately?”

She shrugged and sipped her water, “Maybe.” You smiled and quickly asked a follow up, “What does that mean?” Her eyes found yours, attempting to discover your intentions, “It means maybe.” A frustrated sigh left your lips unintentionally causing her to raise an eyebrow, “What?” Her voice carrying more sting than she intended, she wasn’t prepared for this conversation. She hadn’t decided what to do about it yet. The conversation ended there as the waiter dropped the check, your card finding it immediately.

No one spoke a word until she unlocked her apartment door, letting you in first. After tossing down bags and sliding off shoes you stepped into her kitchen, her in tow.

“Care to explain the huff you gave me? If I upset you I expect you could communicate that.” Her tone laced with a careful combination of disappointment and trust. You turned to face her, finding her eyebrows raised in expectation, “I’m just sick of pretending like we both don’t know what’s going on here.” You leaned against the counter, your hip digging into the edge. She swallowed, “What’s going on here then?” You sighed and stepped away into the living room, finding perch on the couch. She came to stand in front of the couch, “Y/n, what’s going on?” Agatha knew you could see through her facade, she knew it, but she couldn’t bring herself to end it, and it pissed you off. Your were on your feet in an instant, stepping towards her once, “I already told you, you’re not stupid Agatha.” Turning from her you walked towards the door stopping behind it to look at her, her eyes full of fake confusion.

“The seats are empty, the theatre is dark Agatha, why are you still acting?” You huffed out a frustrated breath, feeling the annoyance at her coming to a breaking point. The nice evening you two shared forgotten as she stood silently on the other side of the couch. Her hands fidgeting with the hem of her pants, a nervous habit you’ve only been allowed to see one other time. Her mouth open and closed as she fought with her own mind. The words she’s wanted to say and you’ve wanted to hear, resting on the tip of her nervous tongue. Your shoulders fell as you sighed and towards the door, her eyes shooting from the floor to you, your feet not moving as your back turned to her. “Agatha I can’t keep pretending like it’s not there.” You heard a shaky breath come from her lips, her feet shuffled on the carpet, “Y/n, it’s not easy-“ “But it can be Agatha.” You had enough of her excuses and stupid reasons for pushing people out.

“I have seen your darkest corners, I have seen your enemies, and not once was I ever tempted to walk away from you.” You turned back to her, her eyes finding yours, holding an emotion you haven’t seen from her before. She was scared. You gestured towards her, “You will never scare me Agatha, you never have. Not who you are now, who you were.” She swallowed and looked towards the wall. “I know this isn’t something you’re used to hearing, but I refuse to let you make any decision for me. Let alone about what I want with you.”

She looked back at you, “I don’t know how to say it.” You could see the frustration towards herself build, walls threatening to fall as you chipped away at them.

“It doesn’t matter how you say it, I just need you to admit it.” Your eyes bore into hers, pleading for her to stop burning herself over and over again, to finally let someone love her.

There was a moment of silence as Agatha grew a pair, she could stare death down but the idea of truly loving someone horrified her. Her heart hammered again her chest and she swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Y/n,” another breath, “I’m in love with you.” The words fell from her mouth in a melody you immediately became addicted to. How soft your name sounded coming from her lips that time, how the word love felt it was charged by years of ignored feelings. A relieved breath shoved itself from your lungs as you stepped towards her, hip bumping the couch as you reached for her. A small smile appeared on Agatha’s face as she pulled you against her chest, her arms tightening around you. She breathed in your scent, your arms around her waist letting her forget her ever standing promise to forever be alone, to never hurt anyone again. Her thumb pulling your lips to hers lets you forget how you will die one day, and she will live on.

[drdemonprince]

Hi Dr. Price,

I’m a huge fan of your work and I’ve found it immensely helpful in figuring out who I am.

In recent years I’ve discovered I am both AuDHD and Bi. My partner is also Bi and very supportive. However we have been together for over a decade and I’m struggling a lot lately with the fact that I’ve never actually been with anyone else. I’ve been spending a lot of time in queer spaces online and finding myself wishing I could at least experience some of what they do.

I love her more than anything and would never do anything to hurt her. She’s not interested in opening things up in any way, which I completely respect and to be fair I’m not even sure that’s truly something I would want either.

I guess I’m just asking if you have any advice on these overwhelming feelings of missing out on aspects of life I never knew I even missed? Other than using porn to get it out of my mind as I’m worried that’s affecting our relationship sexually, which is another issue. Should I find a dating sim game or something to push all of these thoughts on to? It’s kind of messed up but I feel like if I was allowed to flirt online and not actually act on it that might satisfy me? I don’t know.

If nothing else thank you so much for your work and giving me a space to get this off my chest. ❤️

Because I am of the mind that most longings for queer expression/recognition/community cannot and should not be met with media consumption, I'm not going to tell you that there is any kind of game that can simulate queer erotic contact in a way that will be remotely satisfying for you.

You and your partner's desires for your relationship and its boundaries are important and matter, but alongside that, I would also encourage you to listen to that urge that tells you that you'd love to flirt online with a sexy queer stranger as a way to let a little of the steam off.

The wants you are feeling are real, and when disregarded or left unattended they can spiral out in all kinds of unpleasant ways, from just regular garden variety frustration, to resentment, to conducting years long emotional affairs with agoraphobic instagram thot boys you met online (not that I know anything about that).

You want to be recognized by another queer person as a sexually desirable, available person, you want to feel the rush of a developing romance, you want the future to be filled with possibility and excitement, you want to know that your life is not over and that there's still more to learn about yourself and more experiences to enjoy -- these are all good things. These are important things, and I promise you that it is very unlikely that you won't get to experience more desire, attraction, sexual contact, romance, and heartbreak in the years to come.

Most relationships end. Those that last more than a couple of years undergo dramatic shifts over the course of their tenure. And so, it is very likely that you and your partner will either eventually split, or your various desires and capacities will become incompatible in certain ways, and you will contemplate some kind of change to the relationship dynamic (or someone will fail to communicate this and cheat. hopefully not that one. But if it does happen, well. It's very common and not the end of the world or even necessarily the end of the bond).

How does it feel to confront this information? That in all likelihood, this relationship will either end, open up in some way, change dramatically in its dynamic, or be marked by one or both parties stepping out in some way, however small, be it an online flirtation or a kiss at a party or a sexual affair? I think your feelings in response to that information is important too. And that regardless of what you and your partner decide for the time being, it is an important series of potentialities to reflect on and emotionally prepare oneself for. Also worth asking: are these potential futures ones that you can speak to your partner about? One of them will likely be headed for you in time, not through any fault of your own or due to lack of love, but simply because people change and relationships develop, just like a person develops. Whether or not these are subjects that can be broached is itself valuable information, too.

Now personally, I am very biased, but I think there is very little harm in having some virtual sex with a consenting stranger, roleplaying sexy interactions online, even getting on a dating or cruising app and posting a few anonymized photos and seeing what kind of attention you get and enjoying the rush. I think that kind of thing is all within the realm of the harmless and forgivable, but hey, my sister just ended an engagement over her fiance doing that kind of thing, so not everyone agrees with me clearly.

But I think it is worth at least contemplating the full, long continuum of infidelity that exists, from having a whole secret other marriage and family and keeping a partner in the dark about it on one end, say, and making bedroom eyes with a cute person at the bar and fantasizing about what if what if what if, on the other. If your partner did anything along that whole continuum, you might be hurt, and likewise they might be if you do.

You say you love your partner more than anything and would never do anything to hurt her. But you can't really promise yourself that. Every partner hurts one another in some way or another, sometimes even intentionally, over the course of a long relationship. But hurting one another in a relationship is, also, not the end of the world. We all make mistakes, say things we regret, lose control of our faculties at times, or are simply forced to reconcile that what we need conflicts with what another person does. And sometimes we put our needs first, even though it's uncomfortable.

I don't regret the times I cheated. I regret the lack of communication and cowardice that brought me to that half-formed, unarticulated decision. But I don't regret ever having chosen to listen to needs that had been powerfully screaming inside of me, typically for years before I attended to them.

I think you and your partner should continue having very frank conversations about these topics, and do your best to regulate your own anxieties and feelings of relationship threat when the other party brings up an activity or an idea that makes the other feel scared. The choice isn't to remain monogamous or to become fully polyamorous with no hierarchy. There are a lot of activities you can both decide are either okay or not okay, and conditions under which you will engage in them.

Even what counts as "monogamy" is subject to fierce debate, that's part of why so many jealous straight people destroy one another so easily. Is texting someone you think is cute in a flirtatious but ultimately just friendly way cheating? Is dancing with someone else cheating? What kind of dancing is okay and is not? Is cuddling on the couch? Working on erotica together? Kissing? Is watching porn with someone else cheating? Is masturbating to a video they sent you?

You might have a very visceral response to these questions, but those are just like, your opinions. They are not set in stone and you can easily find another monogamous person who is just as adamant about completely opposing rules and definitions of what monogamy means to them. And so, it's worth talking with your partner and really being honest with yourself about what it is you want to do, what is decidedly off the table, and what the hell it even is that you two are talking about when you discuss your relationship and its limits.

If it were me, and if I could wave a wand and make you and your partner feel okay about and agree to a set of relationship limits, I think you should consider flirting with actual queer people online. But I can't control other people's behavior or emotions, as much as I have tried. But you can at least contemplate (and then discuss) alternate ways of getting the kind of attention that you desire.

There are lots of things you can do to scratch your itch that are not having sex or dating someone else: LARPing (there is larping that has a sexual or romantic component!). Tabletop games. Acting or improv that incorporates romantic or sexual elements. Going to a sex party and just WATCHING people do stuff. Going to a gay bar and just hanging out and socializing. Going to a cruising bar and watching people fuck. Going to a dungeon for a class or a demo. Going on gay speed dating but secretly agreeing that you're not actually going to take anybody home, you're just gonna see how it feels. Wearing a slutty outfit to pride and waving and winking at people. Exchanging heartfelt letters with a queer friend who you have chemistry with but who respects your relationship.

These are just some ideas, but the possibilities are limitless. One day, you and your partner might agree that you are open to having sex with other people, or flirting, but not to them having other lasting relationships. maybe you'll have threesomes together or one partner will watch the other fuck casual hook-ups. Or maybe you'll just break up. Who knows what the future holds! No matter what it is, you can figure it out with both love and commitment to your partner, but also the courage to name what you are feeling and to honor your desires. None of those things have to be incompatible, and monogamy doesn't have to be incompatible with getting a little thrill here and there either.

Good luck!

[bluebellhairpin]

Harwin Strong X Fem!Reader

Summary: Two years have passed since you were last in King's Landing, and now you return for a wedding - one that's your own.

Warnings: Westerosi marriage. Brief mention of Reader's deceased mother. Reader's father is named + takes out today's Best Dad award. We don't like Otto Hightower.

Listening to: 'A Gift of a Thistle' from Braveheart

Series Masterlist || AO3 Link || Masterlist || Ko-Fi

(ART inspired by this chapter)

Rhaenyra was crown Princess, heir to the Iron Throne, and you hadn’t seen her in two years. You’d returned home after the festivities ended - too soon in your opinion, and while letters via raven were frequent, you still missed her dearly. 

You knew you were in no position to say so, but you felt a sort of obligation to be her friend. To honor Aemma. Sure, you were closer with Aemma by circumstances, but she and Rhaenyra spent far more time together than people realized. You knew the Princess like you would a younger sister, and you were determined to not let distance change that. 

In fact you’d added communications with Rhaenyra into your daily routine quite easily. Between what could be seen as regular menial tasks of a lady, and the training your father made you return to (much to your joy, even if it did leave you quite sore some days), writing letters was what you looked forward to the most. 

But just like those few years ago, your life was uprooted by a summons to King’s Landing. Unlike then though, this had nothing to do with the King, rather his Hand.

“I know you agreed before we left, but if you meet this man and decide you don’t want him we don’t have to go through with it.” your father said as you rose side by side on the Kingsroad. You’d be in the city by nightfall, and he must’ve been sensing your nerves heightening as you got closer. 

“Yes father.” 

“Hey,” he said, and you turned your head to face him to find his eyes soft, “I mean it. If you don’t want to get married I’ll do everything in my power to make it so.” 

“I know.” you replied. “If my mind is changed I’ll tell you. For now, I’m to be wed.” You knew such a day was coming - one where you could be married off to strengthen political ties. After all, what else was a lord’s daughter meant for? So when told you were to marry this stranger, it didn’t come as a surprise to you. You’d prepared for it a long time ago. 

Many would lick their lips in want at the prospect of what marrying you could bring them - a closer voice to your father’s ear and his armies top of that list. Knowing now that the King’s Hand himself had written to your father to request your marriage made you worry. Who knew what kind of man your husband-to-be was - but you thought it was safe to assume it would probably be someone close to the King. In your thoughts you didn’t doubt that there could be older widowers on his small council who wanted another wife. 

You only hoped at the very least that he would treat you kindly. But with how lacking in suitors you’d been, and lack of luck in general, you weren’t even crossing your fingers about that. 

For a long time you imagined being paired off with the most ugly, old, cruel man in the whole seven kingdoms. When all you had to go off of was a name and reputation, you couldn’t be blamed for thinking so. What kind of husband would a man called ‘Breakbones’ turn out to be?

You hadn’t seen Otto Hightower in a long time, and frankly when you first heard of your proposal, you thought he was going to offer himself. With his attention turned on you now, greeting you as you arrived in the Keep, you were glad he hadn’t. 

“We’re honoured to have you here.” he said to you with a bow of his head. 

“The honor is mine, Lord Hand.” Your reply came out much more rehearsed than you’d hoped - call it nerves, call it sensing awkwardness approaching, you wanted to get out of there more than you thought you did. Your father interrupted before you could prove to be more of a fool than you already had. 

“We’ve travelled a long way,” your father said, taking your hand and placing it on his arm, “We’d both love to rest. Clear our minds before dinner tonight.” You almost collapsed in relief at his words. 

“Oh I’ve had Ser Harwin come down to escort your daughter to her room, if he’s decided to show up -” Otto said, turning to look around the courtyard before waving a man over, “- It will be good for the betrothed to spend some time together before they’re stuck next to each other at dinner. Don't you think Cyrus?” 

You watched your fathers eyes flick toward you before he nodded, stepping away as Ser Harwin finally approached. 

When you finally looked upon your betrothed, you believed your eyes to be playing a cruel trick. His dark hair curled around the edges, and his shoulders looked so broad in his gold cloak armor that you were left without a breath - best of all, he seemed to only be a few years older than you, a far cry from the old man you were expecting. 

Ser Harwin Strong was, by far, the most handsome man you’d ever seen. Not that you’d seen a lot, but the handful you had (mostly from a few years ago when you’d shadow Aemma at tournaments, and banquets) paled in comparison - especially since they were never to be yours. Harwin, if agreeable, would marry you. 

That thought only made your heart beat even faster when he looked at you with his strikingly blue eyes. You felt it was going so fast you would have fainted when he reached for your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles, and place it in the crook of his elbow. 

“My Lady,” he said - seven heavens, his voice was deep and smoother than a marble floor - “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” 

The walk to your room was about to be the longest, or shortest walk of your entire life.

Much later that evening, you sat by your dresser attempting to somewhat detangle your hair and thought about what happened in the last few hours. More like you thought about how you could tell Harwin knew the effect he was having on you. 

You thought you’d go into this marriage as someone would venture into a business deal. Promised yourself to remain steadfast and passive, business-like, to do your duty and marry into House Strong so that the king would have a tighter hold on armies already loyal to him. You weren’t going to get flustered.

Yet you were more of a blushing bride than you’d promised yourself to be. 

Call it an instant connection, or call it Harwin having a handsome face, but you’d been reduced to the equivalent of a giggling maid in waiting waving a handkerchief at a knight in a tournament within an hour. That wasn’t something anyone could’ve said about you in years. It felt embarrassing - that your resolve had crumbled so quickly. 

Dinner went by smoothly. Rhaenyra had run to greet you in the halls, lamenting over the fact she couldn’t join you on your first night back, but promised she would join you for breakfast tomorrow. Despite her not being there to gift you with a mutual icebreaker over your first meal together, yourself and your father seemed to get along fine with the Strong’s. 

‘Getting along fine’ being your father and Lyonel bonding over histories of battles past - and you attempting to be more outgoing than you were comfortable with in an attempt to actually get comfortable talking with Harwin and his brother Larys. It took a while for you to warm up to them both. 

Harwin proved difficult to read, but Larys was soft-spoken and seemed to know just what to ask to pull you from your shell. Because of his brother, then Harwin was able to draw you out even more. It almost made you think that he was struggling with you as you were with him - albeit with more amusement than you, and he had his brother to fall back on, you had no one. 

You almost couldn’t wait to see Rhaenyra tomorrow, if only for the relief of a familiar and friendly face. 

A knock had you looking up to your door. A visitor so late was unusual, and you were nowhere near prepared for it. 

“Who is it?” you asked, standing and reaching for a covering as you listened for an answer. 

“It’s me,” a voice said, “Suni. I came with a gift from Ser Harwin.” You opened the door, seeing your borrowed handmaid. Sumi was about your age, with hair as dark as night and a face pretty enough to be worthy of a home in Dorne. She had arrived with a piece of cloth in her upturned palms. 

“What is it?” you asked, letting her step though the door. 

“Why don’t you find out?” she said with a smirk and held the cloth out to you. You eyed her before carefully unfolding the fabric. There laid a necklace of gold with eight blue gems. You took it in your hands and held it up to the candlelight, watching as the sapphires shined right before your eyes. 

You felt Suni come up behind you, likewise admiring the necklace. 

“A wedding present,” she said, “Ser Harwin told me to say to you that it was his mother’s, and that he can already tell she’d want you to have it.” 

“I’ve heard his brother is meant to be the one with a silver tongue. I’m marrying a brute, not a charmer.” You said scoffing, but you couldn’t hide the giddy smile that was making its way to your face. 

“A woman’s beauty can change a man’s ways,” Suni said, taking the chain from your hands and holding it to your neck so you both could see what it might look like if you wore it, and your eyes fixed to the reflection in your mirror, “So can love at first sight.” You went silent at that, her words plunging you back into your thoughts. She placed the necklace back in your palms, and then said goodnight - deeming her errand over, and returning to her previous command from you to go to bed. 

The door shut, and you looked down at the necklace as you sunk to the edge of your bed. Even for a wedding gift it was a lot. Sapphires and gold had high worth - and sentimental too, not only did Harwin have to part with it but his father did too. 

The token made you smile, thinking that perhaps like Rhaenyra, Harwin was becoming a friendly face too.

You took breakfast in the gardens, and spent a lot of time memorizing how Rhaenyra’s hair looked as it swayed in the wind. 

In the past your time spent in the Red Keep was in servitude. You’d watch from a distance most days, but today you were a guest - a real one. For the next week your importance was near the Princesses, all thanks to her father’s generosity. Sumi said whispers in the halls spoke of how your wedding was to be the best since Viserys married Alicent Hightower, and will remain so until Rhaneyra herself was to be wed. You felt it was an honor too good for your status, but Rhaenyra would not hear you argue, and you would not argue with her. 

“I’m glad you’ll be here from now on,” Rhaenyra said. She had lounged back in her seat, nursing a cup and looking out over Blackwater Bay. “I feel a lack of friends, having you around will ease it.” 

“Princess, you’re hardly lacking in company -”

“- True friends. Ones I can trust.” she said. Your eyes narrowed, taking her in, thinking. You took a moment to scour through your memories, and when you found the right one you almost kicked yourself. 

“Alicent.” you said. She turned to you, face impassive but eyes hard. “You both do not speak anymore, do you?” 

“How could I, she’s my step-mother now.” Her words were sour, and as she took a sip from her drink her nose scrunched. 

“You ought to understand she probably had no say in the matter. Duty isn’t something a woman can say no to, you should know that by now.” Rhaenyra turned back toward the bay, taking no time at all to conjure a smart reply to your words. 

“Oh and you’d know. Suffering like you are with your husband-to-be. Strongest knight in the Seven Kingdoms, and one of the handsomest too. How horrible duty is.” 

“My ‘husband-to-be’ could just as easily have been Lord Lyonel, and yet I’d be still sitting here with you today.” you said. You looked away from her for the first time that morning, the both of you staring out at the blue waters as you took a deep breath. “Besides that’s not the point. You’re miserable. If I might even be so bold, you’re a fool too.”

For a moment Rhaenyra looked like she’d let it go, until you called her a fool. She frowned, but from the smile on your face she didn’t let it go to her eyes. Like she knew you were trying to offer advice rather than insult her. A needed distinction. You took her soft turn as permission to finish speaking. 

“Alicent is probably as miserable as you are. She’s lost a friend too. A good friend, if my experience is anything to go by.”

On the morning of your wedding, you woke up and it was raining. A mist really, enough to send a haze over the bay around the Red Keep, but not enough to have people running for cover. The day would go on exactly as planned. 

Suni arrived not long after you got out of bed, ready to help you bathe and dress, and to do your hair for the day. She was halfway through scrubbing your other arm when there was a knock at your door. You both shared a look before she left to poke her head out the door. 

“Pacey.” Suni said, opening the door to let your visitor in, “What are you doing here, you should be helping the Princess.” 

“Princess Rhaenyra sent me to help my sister-to-be get ready.” Pacey said, “And I wanted to get to know my brother’s bride a little more before she becomes his wife.” 

Looking at her, you nodded. Both Pacey and Sumi got to work helping you. You almost didn’t know what to do with yourself - for a long time the only person to help you get ready for the day's events was yourself, and you were much more used to being the person helping rather than being helped. The two young women quietly chatted a little between themselves, but the longer you spent not talking, the more awkward you felt. 

“Pacey,” you said, and she looked up at you, watching expectantly, “You’re Harwin’s sister?” 

“I am.” she replied, smirking. From the look in her eyes, it was almost like she knew what you were going to say. 

“You don’t look like him. Or Larys.” From what you’d learnt, and who you’d met so far, the Strong’s all boasted dark hair and - dare you say it - strong builds. Even Larys with his clubbed foot was not a small man, and the resemblance between the two was undeniable. Pacey however had hair almost like a woven burnt-gold-colored dress - definitely a difference. No less beautiful.

“We all have different mothers. My sister and I are the only two who share a mother.” Pacey said, and like a candle blowing out, it all made sense. 

“Where is your mother now?” you asked softly, moving as Suni urged you to stand from your bath and dry off. 

“The Stranger took her, just like he took the rest of my father’s wives.” Pacey said. 

“My mother is gone too.” Was all you could say in reply. She looked across at you with a sad smile. 

“We have each other now. That's what matters.” 

The rain cleared by the time noon came. The haze but a thought on the horizon. You wondered why you thought of it now, as you stood outside the doors to the Iron Throne with your hand around your father’s arm. 

“My daughter,” he said, voice soft as he turned your attention to him with his words. He looked at you, smiling, and adjusted the gems of the necklace Harwin gifted you. “Soon you will no longer have my name, but you’ll always have my blood. Our house never forgets blood. Remember that.” 

You nodded, teary eyed as you watched him blink away the water in his own. Kissing his cheek, you told him you loved him, and then the doors opened. 

As you walked down the stairs and past the crowd, you couldn’t help but think of the day your family swore to Rhaenyra. It all felt so similar. The people, the place, Viserys on the Iron Throne. It felt like a judgement call rather than a wedding ceremony. 

Then you saw Harwin. Half his hair was tied back, he wore a tunic of dark blue and white covered in a cloak of the same blue, lined with white silk. He still looked handsome, but he also looked so very kind. His eyes flicked to your neck, spotting the necklace, and his smile widened. 

Your father took a step back, giving your hand to Harwin, the both of them sharing a nod before taking their places so you could start. Viserys likewise stood from the throne, made an announcement to formally give his blessing (a very grandeur gesture, if anyone asked you), before descending to a spot beside Alicent to watch. The Septon then moved into place.

This was it. Now there was no going back. You were getting married, this was really happening. Harwin squeezed your fingers, the action managing to ground you. You looked at him to find him eying you - what a shame he could already read your nerves like a book. 

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.” Said the Septon. 

Harwin reached up, and took the cloak of his shoulders. You turned as he stepped forward, and felt the cloak fall upon your shoulders. It was heavier than it looked, and a little too big, but it was warm, and came with a slight smell of lavender. You were about to turn back around when you felt Harwin’s fingers brush near your neck. He was pulling your hair out from where it was caught under the cloak - the gentle, thoughtful gesture made something warm swell in your chest as you caught his eyes again. 

He then took your hand, intertwining your fingers and raising them so the Septon could begin wrapping them in ribbon. 

“In the sight of the Seven I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity.” The Septon was old, kindly, and nodded in encouragement. “Look upon each other and say the words.” 

You turned to find Harwin already looking at you, and you were close enough that if you swayed just a little too far your noses might touch. Together your voices rang out through the hall. “Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger.” 

“I am his, and he is mine, from this day, till the end of my days.” you said. 

“I am hers, and she is mine, from this day, till the end of my days.” he said.

Once he was done, he let out a shaky breath - the first sign since you first met him that he was nervous at all. That he was doing this because he had the same sense of duty as you. You’d always thought it was easier for a man to agree to marriage. It was never as hard for them. In a way you were right - but Harwin still was marrying a stranger, just like you were. 

“Let it be known that this daughter of House Lonn, and this son of House Strong, are now one heart, one flesh, and one soul. Cursed be he who seeks to tear them apart.” 

You’d begun to turn to the crowd by the time the Septon spoke again, smiling at the guests and your family - blood, and now by law. After he finished speaking you felt a hand caress your cheek. You looked at Harwin, and his hand moved to cradle the back of your neck in his palm. 

“With this kiss I pledge my love.” he said, voice so soft that only you could hear it, and then he kissed you. Soft, slow, and all too short. It made a flash of hot run right through you, and before you knew it you were parting ways to the sound of applause. 

[khalixvitae]

I never post here anymore due to personal stuff, but I want to reach out on all my socials about this because people need to see it. Can I just say that I am so incredibly disheartened by some people’s responses to what is happening in the South Eastern US/Appalachia? I really can’t explain the level of devastation that is unfolding here under Hurricane Helene. There are people trapped in my childhood neighborhood without power or water because of downed trees and power lines and flooding. I couldn’t get ahold of my family for more than a day because there was a massive cell service outage in my state. Parts of where I grew up will not have electricity for three weeks. My family could be without electricity for three weeks. I didn’t know if my best friend was okay for 12 hours because there was no way to communicate and we live two hours away from one another. I’m entering day 3 of not having electricity.

And frankly, we’re on the luckier side. A town my family has visited every year for the last 20 years is fucking gone- leveled by flooding from a failed dam. Everything including the road is completely washed out, and this is in the fucking mountains. And that’s just what we know about so far during what is still widespread cell service failure. There are entire interstates that have washed out or fallen apart during mudslides- whole towns are gone, and people cannot call for help.

And the number of people I’ve seen, people who say they’re advocating for MY rights as a trans/queer person, who have fully dismissed this in favor of taking to twitter to make comments about how it’s “Trump Country anyway” and how we “deserve it” and “should’ve voted blue to keep this from happening” is brutal. Every time something happens to us down here, out of touch middle class liberals are so quick to blame our collective region of the country for struggles we do not have the time, energy, money, or legislation to prevent. As if we’re fucking stupid and should be purged, like we somehow matter less because our politicians are a breed of fucked up that a whole lot of us disagree with. We aren’t a monolith and we are right fucking here, and mocking us on twitter in the middle of a humanitarian crisis is not going to help your case, I promise.

I cannot explain to you what it’s like to hear somebody with your mother’s accent describe that they can’t pull people out of cars quick enough because the flood water is moving too fast. Everything I’ve ever known is either blipped off the power grid or under water. I’m begging you, please see us as people who are suffering and not as a monolithic entity.

There are trans and queer people here, just like everywhere else. We are suffering at the hands of legislation we don’t believe in, legislation that thinks we should die, and now a mounting natural disaster that we still don’t know the full extent of. There are poor communities, communities that are predominantly BIPOC, disabled people, it goes on. There are a whole lot of us who don’t fit the criteria of the pro trump agenda, who don’t match the bill of what an American southerner looks like in the minds of those who have never been here, who are actively suffering. We ARE voting blue both locally and on the federal level.

But here’s the kicker: it doesn’t fucking matter that we’re here. My life doesn’t mean anything more than my neighbor who might hate who I am to their very bones. Nor am I more deserving of aid than them, even if I hate them right back. The concept of withholding aid or hesitating to help particular regions because of what their government officials believe is heinous. Hell, even if regular civilians believe it too, it’s still wrong and morally reprehensible. Similarly, providing aid with the caveat of “converting those stubborn hicks” to the cause is downright evangelical and fucking evil. This is a humanitarian crisis, and people need help. And truly if you think it would be better if the south couldn’t vote, or that we collectively deserve this on some moral or karmic basis, I really need you to think critically about those exact talking points because they should sound shockingly familiar. Governments should help their people, and that should be a bipartisan priority. I don’t give a fuck what anyone says- people who are ignoring this because of where it’s happening are vile and need to get themselves sorted out. And the people who do think this is some sort of universal comeuppance for this part of the country can- and I mean this truly deeply, from my heart of hearts- go straight to hell.

I’m going to be posting resources to help those in need in the Appalachia region, as well as Florida. I’ll include shelters, food banks, etc. I’ll have them out soon. I don’t use this blog really anymore but this is the least I can do.

[skepticism105]

You see three happy people and thought “I wonder if they’re sad.” Shame on you. However…

... I do have some.

Because of Hermes' constant overflowing duties every day, he barely has time to hang out with his lovers. Apollo and Aphrodite fully understand this, of course, but Hermes feels like he's failing as a partner bcus he can't hang out with them.

Apollo and Aphrodite have said many times that it's okay, but Hermes’ stubborn ass simply won't take it.

Doing the deed is very special in their relationship, and these three can’t do it if the other partner is not there.

However, since Hermes is always busy, he’s the one who participated the least in these intimate acts… and that makes him even more of a failure as his lovers’ partner.

I’ve thought of this one scenario where Hermes had to stay in the Underworld for months because of Hades’ constant overflowing work. Mixing that with his average duties as the messenger of the gods, those regular moments of his day to greet his partners became nonexistent. Not even a small lil hi to them. Nothing. And he hates it.

When they reunited, they had the most mind blowing, blissful, exPLODING deed ever

Aphrodite and Hermes get extremely jealous whenever Apollo mourns and grief for his dead mortal lovers.

Cruel, I know. They know.

But when you’ve been with the same man who fell head over heels for every single pretty lil mortal that walks on the mortal realm, you’ll start to feel… annoyed from it.

These three still have lovers outside of this relationship, of course, but you still can’t help the feeling, y’know.

Like damn… your mortal partner died… boohoo ours too move on…

I guess the only upside to this is that Apollo would always come to them, crying to them about his lil relationship problems. The fact that Apollo comes to them, out of everyone, makes them feel selfishly happy.

Sorry I don’t really have any angsty headcanons for Aphrodite lol

Apollo and Hermes physically and mentally can’t be mad at her. Mwah.

Though, she does take advantage of that… sometimes… up to you if those advantages are good or bad.

These three rarely have fights, but when they do, it’s a big one.

In the aftermath, Apollo’s go-tos are anger outbursts. Hurtful words he would never even thought of using it on his lovers. After that, silent treatments. Silent treatment to his lovers, to everyone, to the whole world. Can go on hours, days, weeks, years, depends on how petty he is.

Aphrodite goes to Ares to rant abt Hermes and Apollo after fights. Some hurtful words and comments here and there, “Why would he even fucking say that?!” some crying and maybe… a lil curse on them to never feel love again… just for a couple of days, or years… depends on how petty she is.

Hermes drowns himself in tasks to forget abt his feelings. Fake smiles, fake laughter, pulling up his customer service persona to mask his true feelings. He jokes and appears to be unaffected, but behind closed doors, the facade breaks and he starts crying and breaking down on the floor.

These three’s egos are too big to swallow and to apologise. However, when it came to the point ignoring each other feels too unbearable, they come back to each other’s arms.

Apollo and Hermes never physically fights w Aphrodite, but for each other, shit gets physical when conflict strikes.

Hair pulling, painful punches, hurtful insults. I’m not talking fights with teehee sexual tension in the air btw, I mean these two NEED to see the other hurt, no matter how much the other means to them.

I hope you know at the end of each headcanons they openly communicated their feelings and solved their relationship problems like proper adults. I’m just coming up with stuff if Aphrollomes ever gets hypothetically angsty. Blame @letmebesilly not me! Hope you like these!