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#good omens#good omens 2#hello kitty#hello kitty island adventure#poll#poll time#hai guys#i actually don’t have an answer#but my best one is that i’ll be playing hello kitty island adventure#although at least 6 hours into the calendar day
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early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (20)
erwin x fem!reader
chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27)
summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)
notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?
content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)
wc: 2.1k
If you were ever asked to describe nostalgia to someone who has never experienced it before, you would say it’s like walking down the hallways of a museum at sunset, with nothing but the sound of your footsteps as company, echoing down seemingly infinite walls decorated with sepia memories that belong to happier, distant times.
For you, nostalgia was always the one who spoke most clearly in the silence, and just like the corridors of that metaphorical museum, it just so happened to be ghost-quiet in your office that evening. And in such solitude, when the only heart beating in the room belonged to you, your otherwise welcoming workspace became an echo chamber of unsought feelings and unwanted thoughts.
You looked at his empty chair. So much for a quick ride. You thought. It had been hours since him and Lord Koch had ventured into the field, and even though the Sun had decided to call it a day, you hadn’t. According to the clock ominously ticking on the wall before you, as well as the animated chatter coming from the dinner hall downstairs, your shift had ended a while ago, yet somehow you found yourself still sitting at your desk, fountain pen hovering over boring administrative stuff you had read at least three times that day, working extra hours, all because you didn’t want to go home.
Not without seeing him first.
Making sure he got back safe was part of the reason, albeit a small one. Because, if you were to be honest, in the end the decision to stay working overtime for free, had come down to something way less noble. It was simple: If you were still in your office by the time he came back, there was a chance of something happening, there was a chance of something changing between the two of you. And that possibility was enough remuneration for you.
Your eyes, however, begged to differ and, tired of looking at the same words over and over, decided to wander around the room until they found the big window behind his desk. The sunset sky, with its sad pinks and nostalgic blues, held nothing but the promise of more loneliness. And that melancholic palette you would’ve otherwise found pretty, as well as the empty chair behind his desk, acted as nothing but a reminder of how much you missed him, and you didn’t mean just today.
You missed how things were back then. You missed the warmth of his skin and the gentleness of his touch. You missed getting drunk on the rich sandalwoods of his hair: musky, earthy, a little sweet, and just the right amounts of spicy. You missed the addictive taste of his lips as well as the velvety, honeyed words that would leave them in your most intimate moments. And most of all, you missed the way his cobalt eyes would make your heart soar whenever you looked his way and found he was already staring.
That was the best feeling.
And it had been so long since the last time you had experienced it.
The calendar would argue it had only been a week, but if that was the case, then that week surely had the personality of a month. The clock would call it nonsense, saying that time was measured and constant. You knew that Leon, however, would agree with you.
‘Alike are time and water.’ He had told you just earlier that day, as he read out of a small leather notebook snippets of what was, in his own words, ‘some nonsense’ he had written on his way there. ‘Flowing slowly one drop at a time, or rushing by in the blink of an eye.’ You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. “And then I look at you and watch it freeze, knowing little has it to do with the mesmerizing view, when I find myself in the midst of that algid winter that is you.’
Maybe it was the bright oranges and mellow pinks of the sky you were staring at, or the connotation of endings that sunsets have, but your vision started to get blurry.
And sitting there, listening to the distant clatter of cutlery, unsure if the thing beating in your chest was a knot or a heart, you felt forgotten. Like the stuffed animal nobody packed before moving out, or the grandmother nobody visits anymore. And you had no one else to blame for that.
If you could, you would have pinned everything on time. On how it makes children turn into adults and forget to write home. On how it turns friends into strangers. On how it makes people grow tired of each other. On how it was starting to make him feel fictional, making you wonder if whatever beautiful thing you had, ever even existed.
If you could, you would have excused yourself behind ignorance, hiding under the blanket of confusion, claiming you didn’t know what happened.
You wished you could. But you couldn’t.
You couldn’t, because you knew exactly what had happened. You had heard the words leave your mouth that morning. Very clearly, even through the loud sounds of your own pleasure. You had said them. Words that he probably didn’t need. Words that had been distasteful enough to push him away.
Guess that saying I love you can sometimes make you unlovable, after all.
He did warn you, after all: Scouts don’t start families.
They avoid love.
They don’t marry.
But, who was even talking about marriage?
Beginning to grow frustrated with yourself, you tried to blink your feelings away. But the more you tried, the more they would pour out, and the more your eyes would start to burn as a result.
And that was a problem because, in that very moment, you heard the unmistakable sound of his footsteps down the hallway.
You rubbed your eyes one last time as they approached, trying to erase any traces of your lingering melancholy, and when the door opened, your fingers hurried to fiddle with whatever papers they found in the top drawer of your desk.
You didn’t know if he had even thrown as much as a passing glance your way, but judging by the discreet, distressingly quiet way in which he headed straight to his desk without uttering a single word, you could be forgiven for thinking he hadn’t even noticed your presence at all.
And it hurt. It sure did. His silence was so sharp it stabbed the deepest part of your chest. So loud it broke you like the wailing of singers is said to shatter glass.
But, if you were to put yourself in his shoes, you would understand.
Why would he say anything?
You tried to reason with yourself while your fingers caressed papers and closed drawers.
Why would he say anything to his dumb, incompetent assistant?
If you were him, you wouldn’t utter a single word either, out of fear of being misunderstood. Because, in the presence of someone as foolish as her, any simple, commonplace action could risk becoming fuel for even more stupid, delusional ideas forming in her little head.
However, although it had taken that little head a while, it was finally beginning to understand.
That she was just his clumsy, fuckable assistant who, after opening her legs for him a couple times, had accidentally fallen in love in the process. Nothing more than a stupid, inexperienced city girl who didn’t know anything about life in the Survey Corps.
But that same city girl was starting to learn. Yes, she was was.
You rose up from your chair.
It may take her a while, but she always learned.
You walked towards the fireplace.
And once she learned, she made sure she never forgot. Never forgot that she was hired to make his job easier, not harder. To handle his mail, not to warm the left side of his bed. To administer schedules, not to moan his name. To revise budgets, not to beg for orgasms. To bring him tea, not more problems.
And like so, with all that in mind, you retrieved the kettle from the fire.
It wasn’t hard to believe that the Commander of the Survey Corps had other things in his mind. More important, better things than his foolish, lovestruck assistant.
You carefully poured boiling water into a porcelain cup.
But to this foolish, lovestruck assistant, the problem was accepting all the aforementioned.
You sliced a lemon and watched it sink into the water.
It was hard to accept that he didn’t feel the same way you did. It was hard to accept that his lips didn’t instantly curve at the sight of you, the same way yours did at the mere thought of the cobalt in his eyes, and that little frown he did when he was tired. And you didn’t need to look at him to know he had it on his face right now.
You didn’t demand to be the first thought he had when he opened his eyes, nor the last one when he closed them at night. But you just wanted to be a thought.
Just a thought. Maybe the one he had when the first snow fell, or when new buds sprung upon old trees. When the first rain of the summer fell on him while out on the field, or when a gentle breeze mischievously shifted his hair out of place in the fall. Or when it lovingly caressed his cheeks in passing, just like you would right now.
If you could.
You knew you shouldn’t, but you threw a glance his way. He was sitting at his desk, head down, hand busy on what you guessed was the report about the new horses. And it was so very funny. If you had it in you, you would have even snorted. How something that could bring so much joy could also bring so much pain. And even more puzzling it was, how a heart could feel both at the same time.
He was so beautiful. Sunshine strands falling on his face, hiding the depths of his thoughts. The genius of those strategies that were always several moves ahead of what anyone was capable of.
So attractive. The frown in those jungle eyebrows telling you it had been a tough day for him too.
You forced your eyes to look away.
Of course anyone would fall for him.
You thought as you added a spoonful of honey and watched it melt into the boiling water.
Maybe you could forgive yourself for having done just that.
You picked up the tray with whatever steadiness your trembling hands were capable of, and, in the company of a desperate, uncomfortable hammering in your chest, cautiously made your way towards him, the hesitance present in your footsteps making you feel as if you were in some sort of cage, approaching a wild animal.
It shouldn’t be like this. You had been bringing him tea for months. Every night. Without fail. So, why did it feel as if it was a complete stranger you were about to serve? As if you didn’t know how many cubes of sugar he took or how many spoons of honey he enjoyed.
“Be careful, in case it’s too hot.” You warned him, carefully placing the tray on the empty corner he always left for his tea. “I didn’t know when you’d be coming back, so I wasn’t able to let it cool down first.” You avoided looking at him, although it wouldn’t even matter if you did, because from the corner of your eye you could tell he was doing just the same. Head down, eyes on his papers, just like yours were on the tray, as you took your sweet time adding sugar cubes to his cup.
He likes it sweet. His tea. Very sweet. You reminded yourself, stirring as slowly as you could, praying the sugar cubes would also take their sweet time melting. Because, some hopeful, silly part of you still believed he would say something. You needed to confirm he could still see you. You needed to make sure you hadn’t become a ghost from his past. Not yet.
And for that purpose, even the coldest ‘Thank you. You may go’ would do it for you.
If you couldn’t have his hand to hold or his arm around your shoulders, the smallest word of acknowledgment would be enough.
But when none of those came, you realized you had no choice but to leave. Quietly. Collectedly.
Despite the painful knot stuck in your throat.
Leave. To your room. Where you could take care of it. Where your eyes could bleed an ocean, eroding the boulder-like thing you had for a heart. Chilling what was once warm inside.
“If you don’t need anything else, Commander, may I be exc-”
“Are you going to him?” The sound of his voice made your heart explode inside your chest, and its abruptness left you wondering if he was even talking to you.
You wanted to believe he was, but he kept his head down, pen in hand, unmoving; making it hard for you, in your desperate state of mind, to tell.
“Commander?”
“Are you going to meet him now?” He asked again, and this time his eyes found yours, dissipating any doubts you may have had.
And you would have allowed yourself to indulge in some form of cheer, happy he was starting any sort of conversation with you.
You really would have.
If only his eyes weren’t the color of a midwinter night, starless, pitch black, so dark it was impossible to see what was hiding in them.
But something was for certain: whatever it was, it wasn’t there this morning when he left.
-
next chapter
taglist: @elnyrae @mchlist @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean @crazychaoticizzy @braunsbabe @erwinawesomeness @apts2000 @lucifers-nipple-piercing
#arteastica writes#aot erwin#attack on titan erwin#shingeki no kyojin#attack on titan#commander erwin#erwin smith#snk erwin#erwin smut#erwin snk#aot fanfiction#erwin smith x reader#shingeki no kyojin erwin#erwin x reader#erwin x y/n#erwin x you#erwin smith x y/n#erwin smith x you#erwin angst#aot fic#aot x female reader#aot x y/n#aot x you#aot x reader#aot angst
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The 10 best Tomorrow X Together songs
Ahead of the boyband’s 2024 ‘Act: Promise’ world tour, NME picks the best cuts from their enchanting back catalogue
There’s always been something magical about Tomorrow X Together, even before they started adding elements of enchantment to their music in late-2019. Over their first five years together, the Big Hit Music boyband have been consistently spellbinding in their approach to sharing their experiences of youth, whether weaving colourful creations in their early days or dialling up the angst as they screeched into young adulthood.
Along with their penchant for genre-hopping, it all makes for a vibrant back catalogue that doesn’t always follow the expected path. TXT will always keep you guessing and never stay in one spot for too long. Ahead of their upcoming 2024 ‘Act: Promise’ world tour, which kicks off next month in Seoul, NME looks back on their enchanting catalogue.
Honourable mentions
‘Blue Spring’ (2023) ‘MOA Diary (Dubaddu Wari Wari)’ (2021) ‘Puma’ (2020) ‘Wishlist’ (2020) ‘LO$ER=LO♡ER’ (2021)
10. ‘Ghosting’ (2020)
youtube
The opening track of 2020’s ‘minisode 1: Blue Hour’ glistens in its gloominess. Through clouds of shoegaze-y guitars, the five-piece tell stories of friends who’ve become like spectres and the isolation that comes with growing apart from those you love. It’s a beautiful piece of songwriting that highlights TXT’s knack for taking trending lingo and using it to share their tales of youth.
9. ‘New Rules’ (2019)
youtube
Since their beginning, Tomorrow X Together have served as guides and companions through life and that’s no different on ‘New Rules’. The funky hip-hop track details rebellious phases sparked by the frustrations of life, piled on by social media, teachers and class. If you’re looking for a way to break free from it all, this addictive cut will help you.
8. ‘Can’t You See Me?’ (2020)
youtube
Even without watching the flame-filled music video for ‘Can’t You See Me?’, you can feel the scorching emotions that course through the song. Rather than showcasing them in the big rock anthemics that would come later in TXT’s journey, it’s the more seemingly subdued moments that sizzle here. “With resentment, my heart is heavy / ‘Cause you don’t understand me,” Beomgyu and Hueningkai murmur in the second verse, every ounce of that weight pouring through their words.
7. ‘Good Boy Gone Bad’ (2022)
youtube
On the lead track from 2022’s ‘minisode 2: Thursday’s Child’, TXT fully embrace the moment when it feels like you’ve hit an emotional rock bottom. Instead of wallowing in the misery, they make it their new super power – there’ll be no more “pathetic days” left on the calendar when you rise up with hearts “gone dead”. Set to searing rock, it’s become one of the most electrifying moments in the group’s concerts, not least Yeonjun’s bridge that ends in the laughter of someone truly cold-hearted and the declaration: “I like being bad.”
6. ‘Crown’ (2019)
youtube
The song that started it all. Tomorrow X Together’s debut single ushered in a boyband who sounded refreshingly bright but, beneath the bubbling synths, were dealing with the complicated growing pains of adolescence. Years on from its release, it still feels like a perfect snapshot of the dichotomy of youth – at once energetic, curious, self-doubting and concerned.
5. ‘Tinnitus (Wanna Be a Rock)’ (2023)
youtube
The boyband dabble in Afro-pop on this standout from ‘The Name Chapter: Temptation’. Despite its slinky rhythms that are practically a call to groove onto the dancefloor, lyrically it finds the group wanting to sink into a stillness caused by a crisis of confidence. “Rockstar minus the star / Just a rock, OK?” Taehyun sighs, preparing to descend.
4. ‘0X1=LOVESONG (You Know I Love You)’ (2021)
youtube
The moment TXT leaned all the way into the raw, serrated sensitivities of emo. With the help of featured singer Seori, ‘0X1=LOVESONG’ wears its feelings on its sleeve so viscerally it’s hard not to get swept up in its storm of emotion. Although the five-piece’s storyline would later disavow the need for connection, here it was still an essential, the group crying out for a loved one to “take my hand” and save them from being swallowed up by life.
3. ‘I’ll See You There Tomorrow’ (2024)
youtube
The concept of fate emerges on this sunkissed house jam, the beats forming a linking pattern between TXT and the person they believe is “meant to be”. ‘I’ll See You There Tomorrow’ is fresh and breezy, while its post-chorus refrain of “there’ll be no more sorrow, I’ll see you there tomorrow” could serve as a slogan for the comfort that spills out of the group’s catalogue.
2. ‘9 and Three Quarters (Run Away)’ (2019)
youtube
The title track of ‘The Dream Chapter: Magic’ more than lives up to the sorcery in the album’s title. Sprinkled with sparkling melodies that form the aural equivalent of the magic dust that accompanies wands casting spells in movies, the song captured the heart of much of TXT’s early storyline. It’s an ode to friendship and the feeling of finding people to run alongside you as you buckle up for the rollercoaster of life.
1. ‘Eternally’ (2020)
youtube
Tomorrow X Together have never been ones to shy away from trying something new, and that spirit quietly fuels ‘Eternally’, the stand-out track from ‘The Dream Chapter: Eternity’. What starts out as a gentle lullaby pleading soon morphs into something darker and prowling. The beat switch is tellingly signalled by a rapid-fire gunshot and the verse that follows feels like a villain origin story. That the group are able to pull off the revolving door of switch-ups on this track with such elegance is nothing short of impressively exhilarating.
#txt#tomorrow x together#240430#article#nme magazine#soobin#yeonjun#beomgyu#taehyun#hueningkai#Youtube
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Day 6! And the prompt is They Started It!
@maribat-calendar-events
Marinette snuck along the hallway, grinning as she was careful not to jostle the bag she carried. It was hard work and slow going, but she was determined. It wasn't often Tim went to sleep, and even rarer for him to be in his own bed, so it was crucial that she didn't wake him.
Within half an hour, she was slipping back out of Tim's room, stifling giggles. She tiptoed back the way she had come, her now empty bag securely attached to her hip. Once she was secured back in her room, she let herself collapse on the bed in hysterics.
“Marinette, don't you think that was a little mean,” Tikki admonished, floating close to her holder's face. Instead of sobering the girl, however, it merely served to renew her giggles, until she was a gasping mess. “Come on, Marinette, he has to go to work tomorrow!”
“That's the best part!” Marinette wheezed, leaning back exhaustedly onto her pillows. “Aw man, I haven't had this much fun since Chat wanted to do prank wars. Oh, don't look at me like that, Tik, he started it!”
“I must have missed the prank he pulled on you,” Tikki said, completely unamused. Marinette rolled her eyes before looking at the tiny god.
“Look, he said I wasn't up to the prank war with the rest of them. Like I can't give as good as I'll get! So even though I'm technically the first one who pulled a prank, he definitely threw down the gauntlet. I just…picked it up.”
Tikki hummed disapprovingly, but Marinette knew she was right. She fell asleep after setting an alarm for the following morning, not wanting to miss the reveal of her prank.
_ _ _
When Tim woke up the next morning, his head felt heavy. He hardly remembered going to bed, but that wasn't unusual after he'd pulled three all-nighters in a row. As he groaned and rolled over, his ears were filled with the tinkling sound of bells. Jerking fully awake, he sat up only for the sound to intensify.
Alarmed, he leapt out of bed and to the bathroom, the sound following him the whole way. When he finally got in front of the mirror he stared at his reflection in shock. Woven into his hair - how, how had someone done this? - we're dozens of tiny bells, each tied with a bow. He tried to pull one out of his hair, but whoever had done it had used some really strong hair gel to keep them in place.
Trudging back to his room, he saw that his alarm had been changed so that he didn't have enough time for a shower. Groaning, he dragged on some clothes, grimacing at every swish of his hair as the tinkling announced his every move. He hoped he would be able to sneak out of the house at least, but his work day was going to be hell.
As he entered the kitchen for his breakfast coffee, he swore under his breath. It seemed like everyone was both home and awake on this, the worst morning of his life. Glaring at the floor, he shuffled into the room, working very hard on not letting his head shake. He only half succeeded and the room slowly quietened as people turned to stare at him. Jason was the first to speak. “Timmy, what the actual-”
“Language, master Jason,” Alfred reprimanded sharply, although he looked like he was trying not to smile. Tim pouted at his pseudo-grandfather and poured himself a large cup of coffee. “That's an…interesting hairstyle, Master Tim.”
Tim sighed as everyone burst into raucous laughter, even Damian cracking a smile. In fact the only person who wasn't laughing at his expense was Marinette, who was asleep at the counter with her head on Damian's shoulder. She was woken when Dick stood up from next to her and jostled her.
“This is so intricate, who even has time for that?” He said gleefully, ringing one of the bells with the tip of his finger. Tim scowled and jerked away from him, grinning sheepishly at Marinette when she eyed him critically. A look of smug glee spread across her face and suddenly, Tim knew who was behind this.
“Nette, why?” Was all he said, making everyone swing around to look at her. She smirked wickedly at him, her eyes alight with a look he'd only ever seen in his brothers before. Damian's shoulders were shaking as though he already understood but Tim was bewildered as to what he could possibly have done to earn such a punishment.
“I guess next time you won't be saying I'm not good enough to play your little prank wars,” she said, making Jason double over with laughter. Steph offered her a high five that she dutifully accepted as she rose from her seat. “But come on, we'd better get to the office!”
“We?” Tim looked at his sister, confused but already feeling dread bubble in his gut. The sensation turned to a ball of lead as she reminded him that he'd promised to let her shadow him for the day so she could meet with the fashion department. It was going to be a long day.
_ _ _
After Marinette had proved that she was up to the task of committing war crimes (pranks against anyone and everyone), things escalated dramatically. It got to the point that they decided to hold a peace treaty, to help establish boundaries. Incidentally, this was something that Alfred had been pushing to happen for years so he could only be pleased that Marinette had joined the boys in their family bonding.
#maribat#maribat biofam sept#mlb x dc#sibling!timinette#pranks#prank war#ao3#ao3 fanfic#fanfic#dc x mlb
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2023年10月31日
Well, it's *checks calendar* November already, and I haven't done a study update since August, but I am still here studying away, despite life throwing a lot of obstacles in my way. Autumn has come and that means cosy time and increased motivation to study. It also means the JLPT is on its way (although I am not taking it) so I hope the motivation is there for all of you who are going to take it!
もう11月になって、今回も勉強のアップデートはちょっと遅れてすみません。大変忙しくてもまだまだ勉強が進ん��います。秋になって、おうちの中で勉強したくなりましたね。自分の勉強のモチベーションもたっぷりあふれています。秋は日本語能力試験の勉強の季節ですよね。自分は試験を受けないのに、受けるつもり皆さん頑張ってください!応援しています!
Study Methods I Used in September & October
September and October were a bit c r a z y for me so my primary form of Japanese study was conversation and media (TV/movies), thus, the study area which I focused most on was Listening (33%). I did a lot of speaking too, speaking with my husband and son, but also with ママ友 (mom friends). Podcasts again made up a lot of my listening hours, including Let's Talk in Japanese and 日本語の会話のpodcast -ことのは-. I also managed to keep going strong with Vocabulary and Kanji, mostly in researching posts for this blog.
Writing was only really done in messages to ママ友 (mom friends) and so that suffered quite a bit. I also neglected Grammar, which puts me back in a little in terms of where I wanted to be by the end of the year. I had very little time for Reading which is very sad for me, but I was too overloaded so I had to cut back somewhere.
My 2023 Goals Progress
I laid out some broad goals for my Japanese study in my 2023 Japanese Language Goals post, so here is an update with my progress towards these goals.
1. Read one page a day of 日本の歴史366 (にほんのれきし366) everyday in 2023.
How is it going? Terrible! It's been very difficult to keep up with this. And once you miss an entry, you feel like you can't continue on until you've read the entries you've missed. Which accumulate. And on and on. This is definitely an endeavour for someone who has a lot more time. So, my current strategy is to read the entry of the day as often as possible. Which is not often for me! Current Goal: Read as many entries as possible by the end of the year and try again next year!
2. Finish 日本語総まとめ N3 (にほんごそうまとめ N3) workbooks.
How is it going? Not great! I had planned to do more of these workbooks in September and October, but due to unforeseen circumstances I really haven't gotten to them. I had hoped to be done by now, but at least I am on the sixth week of the exercises (there are 4 books). I think I can still finish up the workbooks by the end of the year, so that gives me hope.
3. Review and learn the first 6 levels of the 常用漢字 (じょうようかんじ), specifically the 教育漢字 (きょういくかんじ) up to grade 6.
How is it going? Terrible! I have been focusing on learning new kanji along with vocabulary rather than reviewing 常用漢字. Current Goal: Review through at least Grade 4 by the end of the year.
4. Read at least one book every two months.
How is it going? Terrible! I still haven't had the time (nor the motivation) to pick back up the books I stopped in March, and I'm trying to be okay with that ^^; Books are a big commitment, and I have to prioritize my study materials, so unfortunately books tend to be the first thing I drop. I don't think I will end up accomplishing this goal, and that's ok. I will try again when things settle down.
5. Improve my speaking and writing by finding a tutor.
How is it going? Terrible! I think at this point I am not able to invest the time and money in a tutor, even an iTalki tutor. I think that trying to write sentences and get them corrected is the best I can hope for. And at least I have ママ友 (mom friends) to help with my speaking. I'm going to drop this goal for now, and that's all I can do!
6. Study Japanese for at least 10 minutes every day.
How is it going? Good! Making Japanese a part of my daily life has helped me to push through the hard times and keep up my language practice.
I cannot emphasize enough that the most important thing about learning a language is to keep going. Even if all you have time for is 10 minutes per day, just being continuous will help you improve, even just a little bit. You will start to remember the things you read or listen to or practice, and little by little you will understand more.
Of course, if you don't have a strong foundation or a lot of time to study it can be very frustrating, and difficult to really start to grasp things in only 10 minutes a day. And I've watched a lot of people give up because they didn't have time to focus on Japanese, or a class to help them get the basics, or others to communicate with about Japanese. But I've seen other people who have persevered through a lot of ups and downs and have been able to successfully attain their language goals.
I've also gone through a year at a time where I didn't actively study Japanese, and I still was able to retain my understanding at essentially the same level (although there were some things I forgot, and still forget lol). So you can take breaks and come back to Japanese, and it will still be here waiting for you. Which is really the lovely thing about Japanese and other languages. So don't be too hard on yourself, and I hope that you find 10 minutes to study today. Remember that watching anime totally counts as studying!
Going Forward in November
To be honest, I've felt pretty disappointed with what feels like a lack of progress in my Japanese studies this year. I still feel optimistic, however, about the last two months of the year. I hope to be able to finish up my N3 workbooks and to review kanji and grammar, as well as try to write more often. Let's see how that goes ^.^
Focus on Grade 4 of 教育漢字
Write in Japanese on HelloTalk
Read 日本の歴史366 as continuously as possible
Review N3 Grammar
Finish 総まとめ N3 workbooks
For those of you taking the JLPT, I wish you the best in your studies!
日本語能力試験を受けるみんなを応援しています!
#日本語#japanese#japanese language#japanese langblr#japanese studyblr#langblr#studyblr#日本語の日記#japanese diary#japanese goals 2023#japanese studyspo#tokidokitokyo#tdtphoto#my photo#japanese goals september 2023#japanese goals october 2023
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For a little bit of sunshine - Chapter 9
Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick
Rating: Teen and up audiences
Summary: He is one of the country’s best naval aviators, she is a dance instructor and a writer. He has been called back to Top Gun for an extremely dangerous mission, she is battling her insecurities. They meet at a bar. This is their story.
Relationships: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female OC
Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8
Chapter summary: Once he is back from the mission, Rooster decides to pay Maggie a surprise visit at the fitness centre. However, he is the one who ends up being surprised.
Songs: SloMo by Chanel Terrero
Word count: 3053
Notes: I know, I was supposed to start the Advent Calendar thingy today, but there was so little left to type up of this chapter that I wanted to finish it before jumping into the holiday stuff. Not that there won’t be chapters about Maggie and Rooster in that one - I have some plans for these two. ;)
The title of the chapter comes from the song "SloMo" by Chanel Terrero, which is actually anachronistic as Top Gun: Maverick sets in 2019 when this song probably wasn't even written, but this was the first one coming to my mind when I started writing this chapter and I still think it’s the most fitting one, anachronism aside.
Take a video, watch it slow mo’
Despite agreeing with Maggie to meet at The Hard Deck that evening, in celebration of the successful mission, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw walked into the fitness center a few hours before the party. He decided to surprise her, although she already knew that they had completed the mission. However, he hadn’t shared any details with her yet. He wanted to wait with that until they would meet in person. He most probably wouldn’t have the time to tell her everything now, but he still wanted to see her, to have a moment in private before joining the rest of the team in the bar.
“She’s in the smaller room to the left,” the receptionist told him, smiling. “She isn’t having a class right now.”
“Thank you,” he replied with a nod then followed her direction to find Maggie.
He knocked on the door, but there was no answer - she probably couldn’t hear it due to the loud music coming from inside. However, as the door was slightly open, he gave it a gentle push and stepped inside.
The receptionist was right: he did find Maggie there, although not the way he had expected it. He thought she would be sitting by the mirrored wall, checking her phone or making notes, but definitely not dancing. Well, she was a dance instructor, so it made sense, but what she was doing wasn’t what he had got used to from her.
If he had to put it in a box, it was like club-dancing with elements of reggaeton. That was the first time he saw Maggie dancing like this and it certainly made his jaw drop. The way her hair flipped as she made a head circle then she did a chest circle and one with her hips as well. His gaze followed her hands as she raised them right next to her thighs and her torso as if she was caressing herself which made the temperature rise in the room and his throat run dry.
She seemingly had no idea that she wasn’t on her own anymore, and while he knew he should say something or at least cough to let her know he was there, the only thing he could do was to stand there and watch, speechless. He found it mesmerizing to see Maggie alone with the music, dancing without anyone leading her. He hadn’t seen her so confident and so sexy before. And it turned out that he, Rooster, wasn’t the only one with a killer shoulder shimmy.
For Maggie “Letdown” Miller, the days of the mission were like a torture. She couldn’t think about anything else but Rooster, Phoenix and the others and no Just Dance routine could turn her thoughts away from them and the other pilots. She was in class when she got his message that they had succeeded and everyone was alive and well, she started crying in relief, not caring about who could have seen her. The man she liked was coming home and so were her friends. What did it matter that a whole class of high school students was watching?
Not long after this she realized that from now on there would be new thoughts to distract herself from: the ones about what would happen now that she and Rooster could finally start dating. The mental pictures of them walking on the beach hand in hand, or making breakfast together, or calling each other just to tell how their day was. There were lots and lots of things to imagine and Maggie knew she had to keep her feet on the ground, perhaps this time more than ever. To avoid fantasizing so much about the relationship that she would forget to live it.
On that day she couldn’t wait to finish her classes to go to The Hard Deck to meet him, and she tried her best to monitor her thoughts to avoid overthinking which would lead to the dark pit of insecurity, and she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to lose that confident woman she was becoming. And if she needed some instant confidence, she turned to dancing: putting on some Latin hits and hitting the floor always helped her summon her confident (and sexy) self. During these sessions she did some moves she would never dare to do in front of other people, but here, being alone with the music, she could fully immerse herself into it and do whatever came to her mind, be it a short salsa routine or shaking her booty for thirty seconds straight. That was what she was doing that afternoon, in between two classes to calm her nerves. However, as she did a turn, she realized she wasn’t alone anymore. Despite the music being still on, Maggie felt as if the whole world had stopped for a moment.
“Bradley!” she exclaimed.
Seeing him being alive and well erased every thought from her brain. She ran to greet him and he quickly pulled her into a tight hug. Once his grip loosened around her, Maggie took a step backwards to take a look at him from head to toe.
“What happened?” she asked, noticing the small scars on his jawline and neck. Shen gently traced the skin next to them.
“Just a scratch,” he assured her with a small smile. “Don’t worry.”
“If you're just sitting in the cockpit and everything goes smoothly, you don’t get scars,” she said with a growing lump in her throat.
“It didn’t go smoothly,” Rooster admitted. “Maverick got hit, then I got hit when I went back for him, and then we stole an F-14 from the enemy’s territory and got into a dogfight with bandits,” he told her.
Maggie was listening to him with her eyes widened. His words slowly sank in, wrenching her heart: he had got hit and then into a dogfight. He could have died, not once, but twice. Even though she knew he had signed up for this, this was part of his job, it still hit her. A small smile touched Bradley’s lips as he gently cupped her face in both hands after seeing the tears in her eyes.
“It’s alright,” he said softly. “We’re all here, alive and well, and that’s what counts.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.
“I know,” she nodded. “It’s just… it still hits hard.”
“I know.”
“But I’m glad you’re here,” she smiled up at him. “And… have I heard it well that you stole an F-14 with Maverick?” she asked, with her lips curling up.
“We didn’t really have another choice,” he admitted with a shrug and a small laugh.
“I have a feeling that you two made up, didn’t you?”
“We did,” he was now grinning at her. “And that’s the best part.”
“I’m happy for you two,” she said, smiling back at him. She knew Elton John and Phil Collins couldn’t be wrong.
“I can’t wait to tell you the whole story at The Hard Deck,” he continued, “because that wasn’t the end of it.”
“I thought we’d only meet there tonight,” she said.
“Yes, but I wanted to surprise you,” he admitted and Maggie noticed redness creeping up on his neck which made her realize that he most probably had seen her dancing a while ago. And now it was her turn to blush.
“For how long have you been standing here?” she wondered.
“For not very long,” he answered, lowering his gaze, of which Maggie understood that she had seen her. She pressed her lips together with shame waving through her. Her freshly regained confidence began to fade quickly. He wasn’t supposed to see it.
“I’m sorry for not letting you know, but I went speechless,” Rooster admitted. “I have never seen you dancing like this before.”
“No-one was supposed to see me dancing like that,” she said. “I was just fooling around.”
“It was fantastic,” he told her. “I loved it.” He offered her a smile as he recalled her dancing to that Spanish song.
His words genuinely surprised her. She was expecting to say that it was too much or inappropriate, but definitely not that he would like it. It relieved her a little bit, although it didn’t change the fact that he saw something he shouldn’t have seen.
“It still wasn’t for an audience,” she said.
“I know now. I should have warned you, but I was blown away,” he told her, looking like a puppy left out in the rain. “I know it’s no excuse, but you were amazing. Hypnotic,” he added with something in his eyes that Maggie had not seen before: desire.
That, and the fact that he was quoting the lyrics of the song, drew a smile on her face.
“Well, save that mental picture, because you won’t see anything like that again,” she told him in a teasing tone. “At least not without my consent.
“Understood,” Rooster nodded. He still felt guilty for not letting her know he was there. On the other hand, he was somewhat glad that he had witnessed this.
“At least you had a good day,” she said, now smiling at him.
“I certainly did,” he agreed, sliding her arms around her waist to pull her closer. “And it’s not the end of it yet.”
“My class is about to start,” Maggie said, throwing a glance at the door.
“And I still have some errands before the party,” he nodded, getting the message.
“See you at The Hard Deck, then,” Maggie said.
“Will you let me go without a kiss?” he pouted.
Now Maggie had to stop for a moment. She wasn’t actually angry with him, because he couldn’t know that her dance wasn’t meant for an audience. On the other hand, while she was glad that he liked what he saw, she still wasn't particularly happy with him walking on her without a word.
“I’m sorry, but you have to make do with the picture of me and my apparently hypnotic booty,” she said in a playful tone, smiling, so he would know she wasn’t that mad at him.
“I guess next time I’ll have to knock louder,” he stated. “Or you can buy a ‘do not disturb’ sign,” she suggested.
“Fair enough.”
***
The Hard Deck was already full when Maggie arrived later that evening, wearing that blue dress with the long, flowy skirt - the one she wanted to put on the night before the mission. Phoenix was the first one she spotted in the huge crowd and she greeted her friend with a hug. She was about to ask her to tell everything that happened on the mission, when they were joined by Bob and Rooster. The latter wasn’t sure how she would greet him after sending him away with a mental picture only earlier that day, so he was surprised when Maggie hugged him, just like she hugged the Weapon Systems Officer. Although Bob didn’t feel relieved when Maggie’s arms slid around his neck.
“Hey, what about me?” they heard a familiar voice from behind. Letting Rooster go, Maggie turned around to face Hangman, who was standing there with a grin on his face, chewing on a toothpick. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be hugging him right now,” he told her, pointing at the mustached aviator.
“What do you mean?” Maggie wondered.
“That without me, he and Maverick would be just dust floating around in the ocean.”
The blonde girl looked back at Rooster with her eyes widened with surprise.
“Is that true?” she asked.
“What? You haven’t even told her yet?!” Hangman burst out in disbelief.
“It’s true,” the other aviator replied. “Unfortunately. Because now he’ll be constantly rubbing my nose into it,” he added, half-joking.
“Excuse me, then,” she said, stepping away from him.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell her this crucial detail…” Hangman began, shaking his head, but Maggie couldn’t let him finish it. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug, drawing a wide grin on the aviator’s face.
“Thank you for saving him,” she mumbled with a swelling heart. She had never thought she would be grateful to this guy; it seemed Jake “Hangman” Seresin was more than meets the eye.
“I did it so I can remind them that they owe me one for the rest of their lives,” he said with a small shrug before hugging her back.
“And now, I want to hear everything about what happened out there,” Maggie said once Hangman let her go.
“Penny, can we have four beers and an orange juice?” Phoenix turned to the bartender. “It’s storytime!”
“Make it five,” said a man standing by the bar in a patched leather jacket. Turning towards the young aviators and Maggie, he flashed his million-watt smile at them.
***
Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he looked around the crowded bar. He saw Coyote playing pool with Fritz and Halo, a small group of aviators playing some drinking card game, then he spotted Maverick, joining Penny behind the bar which made him raise a brow. The older aviator smiled back at him and shrugged his shoulders, then started pouring beer for the guests. He must have lost a bet against Penny, he thought with a small laugh. If anyone, he should have known that it was never a wise decision to make a bet with the bartender. It felt so good to be on good terms with Maverick again, after all these years. It seemed so stupid that they needed a dangerous mission to get there, but he was happy that it finally happened.
His gaze then shifted to Maggie who was chatting and laughing with Phoenix, Payback, and Fanboy. No matter where he was in the bar or whom he was talking to, his eyes always found her in the crowd. He couldn’t wait to take her out on a proper date now that there were no deadly missions round the corner - at least for now. He was planning on dinner and maybe a nice long walk. Or they could go stargazing to the beach: he could fill the Bronco with pillows and blankets, they would open a bottle of wine, lying on the back of the car, next to each other, looking at the sky…
“So you told her how you felt after all.” Hangman’s voice pulled him back into reality, reminding him that he was still in the crowded bar and not alone with Maggie on the beach.
“She left me no choice,” he said. “I had to if I didn’t want to lose her.”
“Because she’s a smart girl,” Hangman said.
“Can I ask you something personal?”
“Hit me with your best shot, Bradshaw.”
“Why do you care about her so much?” Rooster wondered.
The other aviator let out a chuckle.
“Why, are you jealous?” he asked with a cocky smile.
“Of you? No way!” the other aviator shook his head. “I’m just curious.”
“She stood up against me and I respect that,” Hangman told him, remembering how Maggie called him out on being disrespectful with that Pinhole kid, or whatever his call sign was.
Rooster raised a brow. When did Maggie stand up against Hangman? He made a mental note to ask her about it later because he liked the thought of her being brave enough to do that. She knew only a few people who had the courage to do that.
“And besides,” the aviator continued, “he reminds me of Sheila.”
“Sheila?”
“My sister,” he said. “And now, if you excuse me, there’s something I need to take care of.” And with that he headed to the door and left the bar.
***
Maggie was having a lot of fun celebrating with the aviators in The Hard Deck that night. They were chatting, drinking, even dancing a little when somebody finally switched from the Best of the ‘80s Power Ballads collection in the jukebox. She was standing by the pool table, watching Phoenix and Payback play, when Rooster stepped next to her.
“Do you want to take a walk?” he wondered, smiling.
Looking around the crowded bar she realized that a walk outside would mean a little privacy and that thought made her heart skip a beat.
“Why not? It’s quite hot in here anyway,” she said.
Then he took her hand in his and they walked out of the bar. The cool night breeze was refreshing after spending hours inside a room full of people and the music coming from inside mixed with the sound of the waves hitting the shore.
“Can I ask you something?” Rooster began as they headed towards the ocean, still holding hands.
“What is it?”
“Am I still not allowed to kiss you?” he wondered.
A smile touched Maggie’s lips. She wasn’t mad at him anymore - in fact, she wanted to kiss him ever since she saw him at the bar.
“I think you have suffered enough,” she announced with her cheeks turning red. “Now you can kiss me.”
He didn’t have to be asked twice: he cupped her face with one hand and brushed his lips against hers, making her stomach jump. He smiled when he kissed him back and slipping an arm around her waist, he pulled her closer, pressing her body against his. When he deepened the kiss, Maggie felt her foot popping up which made her giggle.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice sounding huskier than usual.
“My foot just popped up,” Maggie told him, blushing, feeling like a silly teenage girl.
“And what does that mean?” Rooster wondered, a little confused.
“It means that I saw The Princess Diaries far too many times,” she admitted with another giggle, but he still seemed equally clueless about what was going on. “In that film Mia, the lead character wanted her foot to pop up during her first kiss, because in the old movies whenever there was a meaningful kiss, the heroine’s foot popped up,” she explained, with her fingers idly tracing his chest and shoulders. “I know it’s silly, but it was one of my favorite films as a teenager.” It still is, she added in thoughts.
“Then let’s make that foot pop up again,” Rooster said with a small grin, leaning forward, and Maggie smiled into the kiss.
New Year’s Eve special
***
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#top gun#top gun maverick#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster x oc#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x oc#top gun maverick fanfiction#my fics#for a little bit of sunshine#maggie miller#jake hangman seresin#natasha phoenix trace
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It's Been a While
8 years. 8 years, 5 months, and 25 days ago.
That’s how long it’s been and how much I don’t remember. It’s as if my memory took a pause and my body remained in some form of autopilot. I'm surrounded by artifacts from the past eight years, evidence of a life I seemingly lived without active participation. Pictures and projects, bills and laundry– all of it here surrounding me... My father has passed away, at least according to the obituary program in the top drawer of my desk. It was dated only 3 months after I lost track of time. By the pamphlet being in my possession, I must have gone to the funeral… Or did I? Have I left this apartment at all?
This was only supposed to be temporary. Once my parents came home, my father would live out his remaining months/years in this apartment and I would pack up what little things I had and find my own place. I’d maybe move back in while my mother was mourning but eight years was not a part of the plan. Now, I am surrounded by new things. My things. The once-familiar shell of my parents' home has transformed into something distinctly my own. It appears I’ve kept all their cookware: pots, pans, and dishes and such. But this bed, desk, and coffee table unmistakably bear the mark of my personal touch. I’ve lived here. And I don’t remember a single minute of it.
Let me backtrack a bit. It’d been more or less 10 hours since I’ve “come to”. It happened in an instant, a snap, and the first thing I registered was the sound of a doorbell—specifically, my neighbor's doorbell. I could care less about the chatter distantly outside as the gears in my 8 year rusted mind started turning again.. My head ached, forcing me to sit down and close my eyes until the spinning stopped. I’ve only convinced myself to open my eyes when the phone in my pocket buzzed an ungodly number of times and I checked it, noticing the distinct December 6th on my lock screen. It’d been nearly 6 months.
I laughed, thinking it was some sort of sick joke so I checked my calendar app. This proved to be a difficult task and I felt as if I was navigating through a phone that wasn’t mine. I knew the passcode, but there were apps I’ve never seen and it was without a doubt a different make and model than I had before. But after a good solid minute, I managed to find the calendar, and the date was listed clearly.
December 5th, 2023.
It hasn't been 6 months, it's been 8 years.
It was only then I took a good look at the room around me and realized this wasn’t the same apartment I left back in 2015. I couldn’t fathom where all that time had gone and why hadn’tI lived it?
I’ve been looking all over the house for answers and only recently pulled out my old laptop I found buried in a desk drawer. It took a while to charge the thing to life but it was the only thing that felt familiar. The background image from the last trip I spent with my parents to Washington, all the apps and piles of unorganized folders.
And this journal.
I’ll keep looking to find out what’s happened but for now, I think I need some rest. Although one realization dawned on me as I typed this entry: there's a ring on my left finger– a modest gold wedding band. I’ve yet to find out who it belongs to, because it’s certainly not me.
That’s all for now, Margot
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My wife and I are in our mid fifties and have been married for 30 years. I like being locked, but I know my wife really doesnt. We have been using chastity for the last 6-10 years (which was at my urging)...but sparingly. However, on January 15, 2022, I suggested we try again for one year and let her know everything was her choice. I was let out a few times, for sex, the first couple of months. However, other than a doctor appointment, where I was uncaged for 1.5 hours, and a four day trip to D.C., I have been caged since March 12, 2022. We have been intimate twice since then where she had me eat her to three orgasms on March 12, 2022 and the same thing on April 03, 2022. We haven't tried using a strapon...not sure if she would like it (I have hinted I would like to try it). Sorry for the long question, but do you think she has lost interest, or decided she likes the chastity more? Can I give her your Tumblr information if she has questions?
I don't think you have enough details here. I mean, did she flirt with you on May 7, 2022? And did she happen to glance at your cage at 6:47 am after you got out of the shower on June 27, 2022? What color is your strapon? Why did you leave out whether she kissed you when you got home from work on July 19, 2022? Those kinds of details are very important when you ask questions like "Is she into this or not?"
Is there any chance that you sat down with her after six months and said "Honey, it's been half a year. I really appreciate your doing this with me. I've been enjoying this a lot. How is it going so far for you?"
I don't mean to sound sarcastic, but like a lot of men, you ask a question with a lot of detail about the least important things. Over the last couple of years, I've learned that a lot of men are more interested in setting some kind of record than they are in actually being locked up as a way to have more intimacy with their partner. Worse, so many of you just can not or will not learn how to sit down with your wife or partner and just talk to them about how you're feeling, what you like about this, and ask what they like (or don't).
Really, there isn't some secret Woman club that gives me some magical insight into what your wife is thinking. Although if you're like this at home, I can imagine that she has lost interest because she feels like she's not really part of what is going on with you. I would be more concerned that you've only been sexually intimate a couple of times 3 or 4 months ago. Is that typical for her? At her age, is she going through her change and losing interest in general? Or is she tired of you marking the days on a calendar?
Again, you need to learn how to talk to her.
And yes, I'm always happy to hear from women who are new to this and who are trying to understand what this is all about. I think way too much of being locked is influenced by porn, and that it gives a lot of men weird ideas... which naturally freaks out their wives.
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Twelve Hours In Miami // h.s.
You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.”
He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”
“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….”
“What time is your flight?”
Eleven, twelve, one…?
“Five.”
“Five!?”
“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.”
He was not serious. He couldn’t be.
“You’re seriously--”
“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.”
Read NOW on Patreon // Tumblr // Wattpad
This took a minute (yes, I hate italicizing from Google and making a Wattpad cover that much. Yes, I will avoid it like the plague. Yes, there was a lot else going on, as well). Thank you to all of you who were patient! I hope you enjoy xx
The knock on your door was too loud, insistent, and rhythmic for it to be an accident, but it was too early for it to be anybody you’d want in your room.
Whatever it was in the Miami air, it’d absolutely drained you of all energy. Every night since you’d landed, you’d passed out at 11:00pm, sharp, and slept until around 7:30 or 8:00 in the morning, and the only reason you got out of bed then was the only reason you were even in the city to begin with.
“Work trip? To Miami?”
Harry had brightened considerably when you mentioned when and where you’d be going for a quick turnaround, and you hadn’t understood why until he told you what wasn’t quite public yet. He’d be working, too, and his calendar was full (he’d absolutely deserved the ribbing you gave him when he told you that), but, “‘S’nice sometimes, y’know? To have a friend around?”
Friend. You hadn’t seen your friend in the three days it’d been since you landed. Even despite being in the same hotel. Even despite having pockets of time in both your schedules that worked, and while part of it might be your fault and your inability to stay awake, part of it was just… timing.
So much of what was between you could be boiled down to timing and lack thereof. Why would a weekend be any different? Why, on this weekend, would you be able to make it work when he had meetings and events jammed in and you had obligations of your own? Why would now work any better than the other opportunities that had fizzled despite every hope, effort, and intention?
The knocking continued and you groaned, throwing the blankets you’d been huddled under down the bed as you twisted to look at the hotel alarm clock.
Six in the morning. Six! And they were still going! They’d better be telling you something extremely good or extremely awful to be trying to break down your door this early, but when you glanced through the peephole, your annoyance was tempered with shock and a shot of elation. He was looking up and down the hall, suitcase on the ground next to him and already dressed for the day, and it was then you became aware of how little you were dressed.
“Hang--” You cleared your throat and tapped the door. “Hang on, I’ll be right….” You scrambled back to the armchair you’d thrown your robe on last night to have something on over the camisole and underwear you’d crawled into bed with before twisting the locks and opening the door. “Is everything-- what are you doing here?”
His shoulders rose and fell with his deep breath and you swore you thought his eyes took a quick trip up and down your body. “Morning,” he said, his own voice miles smoother than yours. How long had he been awake? “D’you mind if I…?”
You shook your head and stepped back and he and his baggage disappeared into your room as you closed up. When you rejoined him, he’d deposited his suitcase next to the luggage rack that held yours, and he’d taken off the tinted sunglasses that he had no business wearing so early in the morning, anyway. “Did they kick you out?” you asked, still struggling to grasp for real words that meant anything.
He smiled halfway and shook his head. “No, nothing like that.” Now that he was in your room, you could pay attention to him. His hair looked like it still had a little bit of leftover product in it, but not in a dirty, greasy way. His loose-fitting trousers were fastened snugly right above his hips, but it was the t-shirt that made your mouth go dry and your mind wander. Tight and tucked into his trousers, gloves wished they could fit hands like this fit his torso. It was close, and you could see practically every line and indentation of his stomach and chest.
“Hmm?”
He laughed once. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Oh.” You took a deep breath. “Why are you here?” you asked.
“Figured I’d come hang out.”
You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.”
He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”
“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….”
“What time is your flight?”
Eleven, twelve, one…?
“Five.”
“Five!?”
“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.”
He was not serious. He couldn’t be.
“You’re seriously--”
“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.”
His eyes were wide and hopeful but guarded, you realized, anticipating the possibility that you might say no.
“I’ve been trying for days.” The quiet confession almost drowned in the deafening silence of the room, and in that moment, you remembered every missed call, every text, every visit to your door that he’d stolen just to see you before he had to run off to an event and you had to crawl into bed. You remembered every fleeting embrace, every missed kiss to the corner of your mouth, every look that had lasted a second too long to be normal and lacked the ability to make him stay. “But we just never… s’never a good time, so I’m making the time for you now. If that’s something you want.”
“Do I want time with you?” You clutched the neckline of your robe like an old woman clutched pearls, and your throat felt tight, full of words you’d swallowed again, and again, and again. Did you want time with him? Of course you wanted time with him. Five minutes, five hours, five days, five years, you wanted anything he could give, but you’d given up on that a little bit. Not on him, but on you.
“Can y’make time?” His throat bobbed and the smile he gave you was crushingly vulnerable even with its self-assured charm. “For me?”
Yes or no. In or out. Carpe diem.
You nodded and it was like a pin had pricked the bubble around both of you, tension easing out in a whistle. Harry shuffled closer and you stood, glued to the carpet in your bare feet, as he lifted his hands. He hesitated for a moment and you saw a glimpse of his tongue held between his lips in thought before he cupped your cheeks. Together, you exhaled, and your eyes closed, heart racing uncontrollably. His hands were warm, sturdy, and soft in their own way, and your lips parted when he drew his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks.
Days after weeks after months after who knew how long, and now he was standing in front of you in a hotel room of all places with less than twelve hours before he had to leave for the airport, but if it was all the time in the world you had….
He kissed you, then, and what little time you had left stood still. A distinct sensation of relief flooded through you, like a geyser that had been waiting to gush, and you sighed through your nose, leaning into his mouth. He’d shaved, but you could still feel the sandpaper of his chin against yours, and it was a sharp contrast to the soft sweep of his tongue into your mouth. For all of five seconds, you couldn’t think, or move, but when he groaned -- deep, throaty, and in a way only he could -- it snapped something in you.
His chest and stomach were firm under your roaming hands, although you liked the softness around his hips best because of the way he sucked in a quick breath. You curled your fingers into the cotton and swayed when he stepped forward and tipped your head back to deepen the kiss further, showing both his hand and his greed, and it was your turn to whimper when he slipped one of his hands down your neck and over your shoulder underneath the robe you’d thrown on. Not anything like the friendly pats and lingering squeezes he’d given you in the past and that you’d returned in kind. There was intent for skin, skin, and more skin in this, and you’d no sooner put your hand on the knot around your waist than he’d joined your fingers with his to pull what you hadn’t realized you’d tied so well.
You shivered when it dropped to the floor, but stretched yourself out against his body when he wrapped his arms ever so carefully around your back. It was like despite having his tongue down your throat (don’t think about it, or you’ll laugh and ruin the moment, you reminded yourself), he still wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you or where he could put his hands. It was sweet -- funny, but sweet, and respectful in a way you hadn’t anticipated but could have, maybe, expected? He was only a man, and common decency was a low bar, but if the situation were reversed, you didn’t know if you’d think or be able to do the same. His arms were crossed over your back at his forearms, but you could sense his palms hovering out to the side even as kisses grew increasingly frantic with nicking teeth and off center meetings of your mouths. Focusing very hard on not losing those, you clumsily squeezed his bicep until he relinquished his hold a bit, but before he could finish his mumbled question, you grabbed his wrist and, without preamble, placed his hand on one of your breasts.
Despite not wanting to lose the kisses -- they were good kisses, needed kisses, kisses you’d waited a long time for -- you both broke and stood there, nose to nose, chests heaving with his hand cupped over your breast. This was….
“S’different,” he rasped and you nodded. Not just friends, not just kissing. You ran your thumb along the back of his hand, over tendons that were struggling not to flex and to squeeze and feel. He must’ve taken the pause as hesitation, because he started to pull his hand away, but you shook your head and held his hand in place before bearing down on it with gentle pressure.
“Ok,” you whispered breathlessly, nodding slightly, and when he kissed you again, he caught your chin, then your jaw, your neck -- all the way down -- and then across your shoulder. You were glad he was holding onto you when your head tipped back as he pulled the strap of your camisole to the side to sponge eager kisses any and everywhere you’d let him, because honestly? If he didn’t have his arm slanted between your shoulder blades, your legs would’ve crumpled from underneath you.
As it was, you both nearly tripped on your robe when you moved backwards towards the bed, and you landed harder than he did. Your laughs were welcome in the moment, though, and did nothing to alter the mood, and you were still giggling when he resumed his kisses. They only quieted when he reached your chest, and for some inexplicable reason, you tried very hard not to breathe as his own and his lips and the tip of his nose dragged and tickled your skin, but when he slipped his fingers under your neckline to tug it down, there was no need to try at all.
“Holy shit,” he uttered under his breath in faint disbelief. You didn’t even have time to process the fact that he was in awe of you, before his lips were on your breasts, moving between them in a very careful, very attentive, almost laughably even way, like he didn’t want to miss anything. Your back arched slightly when he settled against you, body warm and mouth hot between your breasts as he nuzzled, kissed, licked, and sucked, taking his time to learn how they felt and what made you moan. As he explored, you did, too, if less so, but your hands found his hair, and petted his face, and ran up and down his shoulders, arms, and back. It was when his own reached between your legs that you clamped your thighs down over his wrist and he lifted up.
“Ok?” His eyes were dark and his hair mussed -- partially thanks to you -- and the pink flush in his cheeks had nothing on the color of his mouth. His forehead was damp and you belatedly realized your chest was, too, and you could feel yourself quivering with the heat of his hand pressed so intimately against you.
“Yes.” You pressed your hand to his cheek and he turned into your wrist, breathing deeply and kissing your pulse point.
“Is this…?” He swallowed. “I don’t-- we don’t have to do anything more, I only--”
“No,” you rushed to say. “No, I just… wasn’t expecting--”
“I’m sorry, I should’ve--”
“It’s ok,” you said. “I’m ok. I want to, it just felt--” New, different, good, so fucking good, and it’d surprised you.
“Sure?”
Wordlessly, you nodded, and forced your legs to open despite how tense with anticipation they were. You nodded again and let out a slow breath, but he watched you until your eyes closed and your body melted into the mattress. When he finally ran his thumb down your slit through your underwear, you clenched and bit your lip to muffle a sound, lips twitching. This felt… nice. Better than nice, this care and intention stoked something in you that you didn’t remember feeling since you were a frustrated and hormonal teenager raging out of control. He was going to fit the minutes and hours from days and months that had been squandered into every second of the twelve hours you had left, wasn’t he?
Harry pressed his thumb into your clit and rubbed smooth, warm circles over it, and you touched the back of your hand to your mouth. “That’s good,” you mumbled, heartbeat quickening, face crumpling when he increased the pressure slightly. It was when he kissed your abdomen that you whimpered and pushed your hand into his hair, but he kept kissing along the waistband of your underwear, and your belly tensed when he took a deep breath. You weren’t quite aware of when or how he got them off you -- let alone how he’d managed to do so seamlessly and without awkward wriggles or kicks or knees to his face -- but you were very aware of when he finally had you spread open and he was on his stomach between your legs. You were very aware of how hot his breath was on your cunt, and you were very aware of the sound of that first delicate, velvety lick in dead silence. He got through three, maybe four, careful, languid strokes of his tongue in, with his eyes closed in steadfast concentration and his hair falling over his brow before he licked up your slit and finished it with your clit firmly suctioned into his mouth.
Your jaw dropped in awe. “Oh my--!” His lips fluttered and your whole chest opened with your breath. “Ah…!”
He groaned and your eyes watered, and you watched, unable to tear yourself away. He was ravenous -- eating you out like his life depended on it while simultaneously holding back and never giving or taking as much as either of you wanted. Each glide of his tongue was deep and smooth, and each suck hollowed his cheeks for only a moment. You whimpered and pulled your fingers through his hair uselessly to quell the jitters and need to do something. Every time you thought he was going to suckle for a little longer, a little harder, he’d break off abruptly and the inch you’d gained climbing would be erased by your backslide. You were sweating from the effort and duration it was taking -- your breasts and stomach had a sheen on them, and your thighs slipped against the side of his head. His roots were damp and hot, too, to the point where the air conditioner may as well have stopped working, but for all the world he looked like he’d never been happier or more content than he was to be eating your pussy.
“H-Harry….” Your breath hitched, a muted cry caught in your throat when again he released the toe-curling suction too soon for it to matter. “Please, please,” you begged, fingers combing through his hair as your pelvis rolled under his mouth. “I can’t… I wanna cum.” Straight to the point, unable to wheedle or dance around the subject -- it wasn’t like he didn’t have his face pressed into your cunt right then or anything. “I wanna cum, I really--”
His eyes, which had been closed up until that point, slowly opened and locked on you, darker than you thought you’d ever seen them. One of his hands unstuck itself from your thigh and he reached up your stomach and you clasped it in yours, fingers laced tightly with an almost crushing intensity between his as you nodded encouragingly, desperately, mouthing please, please to him. He shifted against the mattress, then, and, still holding your gaze and your hand, he puckered his lips.
The ugliest sound ripped from your chest, but you laughed in almost hysterical relief because he wasn’t stopping -- at long last, he wasn’t stopping, and the pressure and tension tickling your abdomen grew tighter, promising to live to its full potential. “Holy shit!” you breathed, smiling despite yourself. “Oh, God, I’m gonna cum… you’re gonna make me cum, I’m-- oh!”
You cried out when he pressed his mouth closer, rutting his face against you in a steady rhythm. The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes were his, and you wheezed and whimpered your way through convulsions with their hunger burned into your eyes as you called out for him. You’d never felt an orgasm like this -- so thorough, deep, and full bodied, and entirely draining.
“Fuck!”
It wasn’t the guttural swear that made your eyes fly open even as the room spun, but the sensation of his teeth against your thigh. Not hard, but sharp, and when you looked at him you found his face screwed up against your leg, rutting against the mattress. Belatedly, your brain put the pieces together -- it wasn’t just his face in your cunt, it’d been his whole body, the whole time, driving himself against the bed in search of his own relief with his mouth full of you and your thigh when he wasn’t whimpering breathless apologies and confessions of how hard he was (“M’sorry-- oh, shit, m’so-- m’hard, m’sorry, love, m’so-- hurts, I just need--!”). He squeezed your thigh with bruising force, letting out keening moans as his shakes turned to shudders, and you knew he was finished when he let out a noise so deep your hair stood on end and he came to a sudden stop with his face still burrowed against your leg.
“Fuck,” he rasped. “F-fuck, s’so… sorry, that’s….” He pressed his forehead into your skin. “That was incredible,” he said, voice thick and unevenly pitched. “You were….”
He picked his head up and wiped his mouth and the tip of his nose with his thumb before slipping it past his lips and sucking lightly, forehead lined in agony. With weak fingers, you tugged the back of his t-shirt, and he crawled on even weaker hands and knees up your body. It was a struggle to get it untucked from his trousers and even worse to get it off his torso from how damp it was, but eventually you did, and you threw it away with a whoosh and a thud. He kicked his worn in white Vans off his feet and they landed with a thunk off the side of the bed, and his trousers were next, and when they were gone, you flattened yourself against him, mouth on his shoulder and leg between his, desperately seeking skin on skin.
“Alright?” He cupped the back of your head. “Ok?” You nodded and he kissed your forehead. “You’re ok,” he mumbled. “You’re good, honey.”
“Are you?” you asked against him. Because he couldn’t stop trembling -- his muscles kept jumping under your touch and his heart was giving its own big band performance in his chest.
“L’be fine,” he said. “Be ok, just need… need a minute.”
Gradually, his heart and yours both slowed and heavy breathing evened out. And the last thing you saw before you closed your eyes for good and slipped under was the time.
6:52. Ten and a half hours to go.
#harry smut#harry styles smut#harry styles x reader#reader insert fanfiction#harry x reader#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles blurb#harry styles one shot#twelve hours in miami#twelve hours in miami 1#permanentcross#permanentcross fic#original writing
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for @bend-me-shape-me's spn advent calendar 2020. prompt: christmas curse.
"It could be worse." Sam repeats, and Cas nods.
A killing spree, loss of memory, hallucinations — take your pick. Relative to the scale of havoc they'd seen witches wreak in their day, this was mild. Harmless.
Funny.
"Dashing through the snow." Dean lets out morosely, as if in reluctant agreement, while Sam's restraint suffers a little more. That seems to annoy Dean further, and he glares at his brother. "I'm dreaming of a White Christmas!"
That's probably supposed to be a profanity, but Sam doubles over laughing.
Dean flips him off, and chooses to ignore Sam by turning to Cas with a look in his eyes tragic enough to invoke real compassion in the angel's heart. He wishes he could help, of course, but spells either wear off, or are reversed by the witch (arguably more often, the murder of the witch). And he knows Dean knows he can't help either, so a sympathetic nod has to suffice.
And in any case, even in all his billions of years, Cas has never seen a curse like this.
Dean can only speak in carols.
Trust the Winchesters to irk the most creative witches into hexing them with the most obscure curses for Christmas.
"On the first day of Christmas," Dean starts, voice questioning. Cas squints, paying even closer attention than usual — although, to be fair, conversations with Dean usually involve more focus on intonation than words, in regards to things he means and often doesn't say. "My true love sent to me?"
"A partridge in a pear tree." Sam completes immediately, looking extremely pleased with himself. In his defense, had their positions been swapped, Dean would almost certainly have been more obnoxious about it.
"I think," Cas interrupts, right before Dean could start to curse at Sam inevitably in another carol. "He means what do we do now?"
Dean nods, focus snapped back to Cas. "Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer!"
Cas narrows his eyes. "He's saying I'm right."
"What, you speak caroltongue now?" Sam blinks, surprised.
"No, Sam. I speak Dean." Cas answers sincerely, before turning his eyes to Dean again. "And I'm an angel. I may not be able to read minds anymore, but maybe it's enough for me to still translate for him."
"Here comes Santa Claus?"
"Yeah." Cas nods, earnest. And turning to Sam, "That was just a 'yeah?'"
Sam looks like he wants to say something but then he changes his mind. "Okay. Okay, fine. So Dean speaks in carols, and you translate. Cool. Now," he bites his lip, as if it pains him that they're inching closer to the end of this ordeal, and turns to Dean. "Who did this to you?" They'd been in the middle of taking down a coven.
"Make the Yule-tide gay."
"The greyhaired witch." Cas says, not missing a beat.
Sam looks like he might not be done laughing yet. "The one in the sequins dress who called you, and I quote, a choirboy Scrooge?"
"Joy to the World."
"Sam, he's calling you a bitch."
"Say, Cas, what's carolspeak for jerk?" Sam snickers, and Cas tilts his head because he'd only just specified he couldn't translate like that.
"Here comes Santa Claus." Dean grouses, crossing his arms on his chest.
"Yeah, again?" Sam looks at Cas.
"No, I believe this time it means go to hell." Cas tells him thoughtfully, and Sam rolls his eyes, leaving him wondering how the same phrase could mean such different things in this strange language, but then that certainly isn't the only thing not making sense right now, so he decides to let it go.
*
Hunting down the witch is easy enough, and they nab a chance to confront her after less than three hours of stakeout — where once, in between, they almost got caught because Sam couldn't stop laughing at Dean's remorseful "Santa Baby" when he spilled cheese on his shirt — but everything works out in the end, and Sam's made to swear he won't laugh, and Dean's made to promise that he won't call Sam names in disguised carols, and then they're off to take down Greta, the greyhaired witch.
(Dean nudges Cas to stay behind him when they're about to barge in. At least, he vaguely pieces together that that's what Dean meant to say.
"All I Want for Christmas is You." Is what he ends up saying though, slapping a hand over his mouth the moment the words have come out, flushing red.
Cas falters, and while he wouldn't have listened to Dean's (ridiculous) instruction anyway, he isn't even sure it registers.
"Get a room." Sam mutters eventually, either minutes or aeons later, and they're pulled back to reality with Dean snapping a, "Silent Night!" At Sam, vicious enough to not need Cas's participation to be understood.)
Ultimately, the witch is easy to deal with.
As expected, because Cas has finally learned to anticipate moral greyness in even the villains the Winchesters come up against, she asks for a pass to leave in return of returning Dean's speaking abilities, but she promises to not cause harm (just as she never has before, she swears, and Sam and Dean eye her suspiciously but finally believe her) and stay out of covens of the sort, and that's that.
Dean's vocabulary is restored, which he chooses to test by swearing under his breath, and sagging when it comes out as it should, instead of a verse from Twelve Days Of Christmas.
And since Cas agrees that "6 Geese a Laying" doesn't quite have the same impact as "Son of a bitch", he squeezes Dean's shoulder in reassurance when the latter sighs.
They're okay.
*
On their way back to the Impala, the church bells ring, reminding them of Christmas once more.
Cas turns to find Dean looking at him, a strange swell of emotions in his eyes, which he hasn't pieced together yet when Dean leans in to kiss him on the cheek.
It's just a brush of lips, chaste, almost traditional, but Cas can feel his face heating up uncharacteristically, and Dean's turning red again when he whispers, "Merry Christmas, Cas," so maybe there's more to it than it looks like, like with most things between them.
"Don't you mean," Sam grins, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes dancing. "We wish you a Merry Christmas?"
And just like that, Dean's snapping out of the almost-trance, and taking off after his brother with curses on his lips that finally don't come worded as carols anymore, although Sam laughs as gleefully as if they still are, easily keeping ahead of Dean to the latter's extreme annoyance, and Cas shakes his head, because they're ridiculous —
But they're his family.
And that means everything, he knows now, and knows that he wouldn't change any of it for the world, so it's a merry Christmas after all.
#spnadventcalendar2020#this is based pre-jack by the way. season 11 or 12 ig?#christmas fluff#destiel#tfw#tfw fluff#dean winchester#sam winchester#castiel#cas pov#spn crack#destiel fluff#deancas#destiel fanfiction ft. third wheeling sam bc it's funnier that way <3#day six#bluefirecas#tearsofgrace#rambleoncas#userpris#evermorecastiel
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My approach to law school // January 3, 2021
This is an overview of my approach to law school and general advice. **There isn’t one way to be a successful law student**
1. MENTAL / PHYSICAL HEALTH - your health is THE most important factor in your law school success. Unfortunately, law school tends to normalize constant stress and exhaustion. Prioritize your health over your studies and you will be a much more functional student.
Do things that make you happy: read a book for fun or go on a long run/walk/bike ride with a friend. Do things that have nothing to do with law school!
Therapy: it isn’t accessible for everyone, but if you can, do it.
Take sick days: rest and nourish your body when you are sick. You will recover faster and be a better student because of it. The same goes for mental health days.
Practice community-care: check-in with your friends and support your classmates. Ask your friends and family about their lives and don’t dominate conversation with law school stories.
Drink plenty of water and eat well.
2. ORGANIZE
Plan ahead: every Sunday I look over my schedule for the upcoming week and write my to-do lists for homework, law review, and my internship.
Tab, label, and index: I tab my Bluebook, casebooks, and notebook to find sections more easily. In my notes I include an outline/index of key concepts and cases with page numbers. (I will share a photo of an index in the future)
Keep your workspace organized: I clear my desk of all notebooks and casebooks except for the ones that I need for an assignment. This keeps me focused on one task at a time. At the end of each day I clean my desk so that it’s nice and neat for the next day.
3. SCHEDULE
Treat law school like a full-time job: I have free time on the weekends and sometimes during the week because I stick to my work schedule. On weekdays I get up at 6:45 am and workout until 7:45 am. Then I eat breakfast. I begin studying/homework/class at about 8:30 am every day and work until about 6 pm. I give myself 45 minutes for lunch sometime between noon and 1:30 pm, but then I get straight to work again. Most days, I spend another 1-3 hours in the evening doing homework, but I always take time to eat dinner and hang out with my roommate for a couple hours first.
Find a calendar/planner system that works for you: I use my planner for assignments and use my Outlook calendar to keep track of class time, homework time, and internship time.
Schedule “fun” time to do things other than law school and put it in your calendar.
4. STUDYING / HOMEWORK
Pomodoro method: timing study session in segments of 30-45 minutes is extremely helpful because it keeps me on track with my schedule and forces me to take breaks to stretch, drink water, and use the bathroom.
Note-taking: depending on the class, I handwrite 50-100% of my notes and type the rest in OneNote. I find that handwriting helps me absorb information better than typing, although typing does have its advantages (it’s so much faster). I read through an assignment/case and highlight it, then I go back through and take notes. (I will post a photo of my notes in the near future)
Highlighting: it’s no secret that law students dominate the highlighter market, and for good reason. I highlight reading assignments and my notes. I also use different colors to signal different things, such as statute law versus case law.
Case briefs: some cases are so confusing that the holding is nowhere to be found and the entire thing seems to be in a different language. Do the best you can to write your own case brief before looking online for one. There’s no shame in using Quimbee every once in a while - in fact, it is a great source for reviewing - but you still need to do the work.
Find a conducive study space: I spent a lot of time in the law library studying with friends because it is quiet and full of good study energy. Now that I’m working from home, I try to recreate that atmosphere. I even play “library ambiance” sounds on Youtube while I do homework. Make sure you are comfortable and that your space isn’t full of distractions.
5. NETWORK
Make friends: as an introvert, I loathe socializing in large crowds for long periods of time and find networking difficult. However, I forced myself to network and socialize a lot during law school orientation and made so many incredible friends! I appreciate them all and I don’t know how I would survive law school without them.
Internships: I recommend talking to 2Ls and 3Ls about their internship experiences. It’s great to talk to career advisors too, but you are more likely to get the most candid details and advice from fellow students. When I was a 1L I befriended a 2L who was interning at a restorative justice legal clinic. She gave me great advice and a great recommendation to her boss. Long story short, I now intern at the same restorative justice clinic and love it.
Office hours: talking to professors one-on-one is terrifying at first, but in my experience, professors LOVE when students come to office hours. Talking to professors in office hours can make it less intimidating to raise your hand in their classes or when you are cold-called (the horror!).
6. EXAMS
Outlining: write your own outline. Using another person’s outline as a reference is fine, but write your own! All of my best grades were in classes where I created at least 80% of my outline on my own.
Go over your outline several times and cut out things you don’t need or won’t be tested on. A long outline isn’t necessarily the best outline.
Practice exams: do at LEAST two practice exams for each class using your outline so you get used to using it as a reference. Time at least one of these practice exams so you get used to the pace.
7. REMEMBER WHY YOU ARE HERE
On the first day of my internship, my boss said, “the first thing you lose in law school is the reason why you are there.” Law school is overwhelming, stressful, and at times, soul-crushing. It is easy to forget why you decided to go to law school and you are likely to second-guess every life choice you have ever made at some point or another (I do ALL the time). Therefore, it’s important to remember why you are here. If you want to go into social justice, look into social justice law courses you can take. If you want to represent athletes, look at sports law and contract law classes. Bottom line: step back and recenter yourself to remember why law school is worth the hard work.
#lawstudent#lawschool#lawblr#studying#studyblr#my desk#desk view#desktop#moleskine#study motivation#studyinspo#studyspo#advice
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You're Not Broken, Ya Hear Me?
Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Yondu x Reader, guest starring Peter and other Ravagers
Summary: Based off a prompt from my friend @giulscomix where Reader is coming up on a rite of passage involving having her first sexual experience and is very nervous because she doesn't wish to partake, because she's just not interested in sex at all. (i.e: Reader is Ace or Demi) She opens up to Yondu about it after he finds her hidden away and crying about it and he helps her with her problem, making her realize she isn't broken. Inspired by and using lines from this scene in Netflix's Sex Education series.
Author’s Note: Fic is SFW. Sex is talked about (obviously), but no sexual scenes occur. This also takes place in an AU where Yondu never broke the code (yet still has Peter, make that make sense lol) and therefore was never exiled from the other Ravager clans. Also, this is a long one, probably should have broken it into chapters, but here we go lol
Word Count: 10,189
The nervousness inside you grew with every passing day. You were almost seventeen- you should be happy about this! Not filled with dread about what turning that particular year would mean. You glanced at the calendar from your bed. Only three days left.
There was a rite of passage that every young man had taken before you, and would take long after you. They all whooted for joy when their time came, but you couldn't find the enthusiasm to do so, although you did your best to fake it. And as the day grew closer, the more you had to fake it.
Maybe it was because you were the only female Ravager on Yondu's team? Or maybe that had nothing to do with it. Maybe you were just... broken? Why couldn't you just be excited about this like everyone else? That thought made your chest ache as you pulled on your boots.
You didn't want to do it, this stupid rite of passage. No, it wasn't exactly like you'd be forced into a room until you "did the deed," However, you knew to refuse would be to cement your reputation as a lame prude who wouldn't know fun if it crawled up her ass. But still, you really didn't want to.
After all, who would want their first time to just be some random fuck for the sole purpose of "Becoming a man/woman" and an "official part of the crew."? Yes, you wanted more than anything to be accepted, like Peter or the others, but you wanted your first time to be with someone you loved and cared for. Now, this isn't to say that you weren't currently a respected member of the crew, but things were just... different. You knew things would change if the others knew you didn't want to go through with it. You'd be less "one of the guys" and more "the chick with the stick up her butt." You didn't want that.
You stood and took a deep breath, readying your facade before leaving your quarters to make your way down to breakfast.
As always, there were many other Ravagers also making their way from the crew quarters down to the mess hall. And, just how it had started happening the closer it got to that dreaded date, you'd encounter someone looking to congratulate you with a clap on the back, saying things like, "Ayy! How many days is it now? Bet ya can't wait, huh?" or more often, high-fives and fist bumps as your crew mates cheered you on for your upcoming "big day."
You took it all in stride, just like every other day. Big smiles, return the high-five, maybe throw in some finger guns, toss in an affirmative and that you "couldn't wait."
But each time you died just a bit inside. How long could you put on this charade? You knew you wouldn't be able to go through with it. What was going to happen then? What would the rest of the crew say when they found out? Normally it wouldn't be such a big deal for so long, when other guys came of age it was usually forgotten by the others after a few days. However, you were going to come of age the very day of the next scheduled shore leave, which was going to happen in just a few days, and for some reason this just bred excitement among your peers and they wouldn't drop it.
You tried to put these thoughts out of your head as you entered the Mess Hall and got your breakfast.
Today you got to eat in relative peace, the attention being taken up by the story Narblik was telling about his last job on an icy planet and how he hadn't been sure he'd make it back when the blizzard hit. It was when you got up to turn in your tray and leave when a few other's started back up again.
Scrote whooped when he saw you stand, crying out a "Get 'em!" at you and someone else shouted back that you were "Gonna be a man!" until someone shouted back at them "She's a girl!" earning an apology and a correction that you were "Gonna be a woman!" that earned some laughter from the others. You knew the laughter wasn't directed at you, they weren't insulting your looks. Some species on the ship just had a hard time getting genders right because the concept of gender just wasn't a thing on their homeworlds.
You passed Horuz and a young green man named Rahi who high-fived you with an "Ayyy!" as was becoming the custom greeting for anyone wanting to congratulate you on it being almost your big day. You returned the greeting. He had just turned 17 three days before along with another young man he often ran around with, and you heard him talking with some others (There were about 5 or 6 of you all either about to turn the big 17 or who recently had since the last shore leave 3 months ago. It was an abnormally large amount of young people coming of age this time around, which you suspected was further reason why some were making such a bigger deal about this upcoming shore leave.) about being excited for shore leave, as that's when they'd be able to 'become men,' aka, would be able to find a whore to screw. Younger crew often had more of the cleaning jobs aboard the Eclector, and unless assigned with an older crew mate, didn't get to go on many away missions where they could try and woo a willing partner, and even then, Yondu liked quick turnarounds on jobs so there wasn't a whole lot off "goof off" time without being reprimanded. There was no real rule about screwing crew mates either, but most avoided it just in case things got weird after. Easier to just bang someone random on shore leave and then get back to work. No muss no fuss.
Horuz teasingly asked if you had any studs picked out yet and you just laughed and said "Ha, one of these lot? You're joking!" as you put your tray away.
You heard Yondu playfully scold the two from a couple tables over, telling them, "Oh, leave the poor girl alone, yer embarrassin' her!" as he laughed. Horuz just shouted back, "Aw now, I didn't even get to tell her about Oblo here's first time!" This was met with Oblo, who was sitting nearby, choking out a "Hey!" and punching Horuz in the arm.
Kraglin laughed now, "I think she's already heard that one! Let's not ruin anyone's meal now."
You shivered. You had heard the story before. It involved a broken member and many stitches. You weren't looking forward to hearing it again. "I'm out!" you say, looking for a way out of this conversation. "Got work to do." With that you turned and started to leave the mess hall.
"That's what I like to hear!" Yondu laughed from behind you. "Some of you lazy gits should start acting like her, don't wanna work unless yer told to." He knew you were just escaping having to hear the story again, but he wasn't going to miss an opportunity to razz up some of his crew.
You finally make your way out of the mess hall and allow your grin to fall. You run a hand over your face, making your way toward the laundry where you had been assigned to repair one of the machines. You were grateful it was both early in the week as well as early in the day as you entered the room. Most of the crew waited until they were completely out of clean clothes to do their washings, which typically resulted in most of the crew crowding the laundry at the end of the week, so you were sure to have at least an hour or three alone to yourself.
You made your way to the back left-hand corner of the room towards the broken machine. It should be an easy fix, the complaint was that it wasn't draining properly, so you figured it was just a clogged drain hose.
Upon opening up the machine you found you were right. it was just a clog. You retrieved a plumbing snake from a nearby supplies trunk and got to work fishing it out. Unfortunately this menial task gave you enough time to dwell on your problems rather than engaging your brain enough to force them into the back of your mind.
You kept thinking the word "broken" over and over. You couldn't get it out of your head how you couldn't bring yourself to just be excited over something everyone else seemed to love.
Your chest tightened. "Broken.. Loser..." Why couldn't you get over it? Why didn't you have these feelings like all the others?
You latched onto the clog and worked to pull it out. "
Broken..." Why was this so hard? "Broken... Stupid... Wrong..." What was wrong with you? "Stupid... Broken..." Why couldn't you just be like everyone else?!
With that last thought you pulled the clog out with an audible "Pop!" that almost made you fly backwards. You looked at it in disgust and dropped it into the nearby trashcan before re-attaching the hose and sliding down to the floor. No one was going to show up to the laundry this early, might as well take advantage of this time to wallow in your own misery.
That's what you told yourself at least. In truth you could feel tears burning your eyes and didn't want anyone to see you cry. Better to let it happen alone than risk another crew mate seeing you and thinking you were weak.
What you didn't know was that Yondu was also well aware of his Ravager crew's laundry habits, and took advantage of the empty communal laundry room at the beginning of the week to wash his own laundry undisturbed. He made his way down after breakfast, actually having forgotten he had assigned you to fix one of the machines, and was therefore quite surprised to walk in on you sat in the corner crying.
"What d'we have here?" he asked, more puzzled than anything. He never once seen you cry, which now that he thought about it was rather surprising. He saw grown men cry at least twice a week, most of them Peter, but still. He tried to cover up any concern with humor. "Did Halfnut leave his dirty drawers in the machine again? Smell's bad enough to make anyone cry."
You had been startled when he first walked in and you were currently trying to quickly straighten yourself up. "Nothing. Sorry Captain." you said, not looking him in the eye as you bent down to pick up the plumbing snake. "Nearly done here." you say, unable to hide a sniffle.
Yondu plopped his laundry basket on one of the long steel tables running up the middle of the room and sighed, turning to walk towards the door.
You look up in surprise as you heard the lock engage.
He looked at you, arms crossed, and said, "Ya really think I'm gonna buy that? Yer not leaving here until ya spill it. Now what's wrong? Somebody bein' mean to ya? Yer feminine-ly cycle -or whatever it's called- hurtin' ya again?"
You blushed and gave him a sharp look before placing the plumbing snake back where you found it.
Yondu rolled his eyes as he moved his basket over to a machine and tossed his clothes in. "Fine, be that way. But I meant what I said. Ya ain't leavin' til we sort it out. Might as well talk or it's gonna get mighty borin' in here." He turned on the machine and hoisted himself up to sit on the table, patting the space beside him.
You begrudgingly approach, not meeting his eyes, and lifted yourself up to sit down on the table.
"Now what's wrong?" he said again.
You fix your gaze on your lap and sigh. "You're just gonna make fun of me." You say sadly.
Yondu smirks. "Maybe. Still wanna hear it though." Upon seeing your face fall further he elbowed you and said, "I'm jus' kiddin'! What's the long face?"
Your eyes remain down and you quietly say, "I... don't wanna do it."
Yondu raises an eyebrow. "What?"
"I don't wanna do it." you repeat.
"Ya dun wanna do... what?" he asks in confusion. He at first assumed maybe you didn't want to do your assigned morning task of fixing the machine, but it seemed like you had already finished it, so he had no idea what you could possibly mean to even begin to be angry for any disobeyed orders. Also, he doubted he found you crying over something as silly as not wanting to fix a washing machine.
"It," you say, "You know, IT." you make a crude gesture with your fingers, forming a circle in one hand with your thumb and index finger and inserting the index finger of your other hand in and out of it, to hopefully get the point across.
Yondu's eyes widen a bit. "Oh!" he says in surprise, before continuing in confusion, "I don't get it? Ya seemed just as excited as could be a bit ago?"
"I've been faking it. Don't want the others to make fun of me."
"Come now! They won't ma-"
He's cut off by you giving him another sharp look. He looks forward again and nods, sighing, "Yeah, yer right. They will."
The two of you were quiet for a couple moments before Yondu awkwardly broke the silence. "Ya mind if I ask why? Like are ya scared or somethin'?" he looks at you with a raised eyebrow, slight concern painting his features.
He remembered his first time. As a battle-slave he didn't exactly see much action; the Kree weren't exactly fond of the idea of their battle-slaves reproducing or having any fun; and by the time Stakar freed him he was in his twenties. It was shortly after when with some other young Ravagers that the subject came up and he admitted he had never done it, only for his mates to excitedly cheer that they were taking him with them on shore leave so he could "become a man." He had been nervous, though he never expressed it out loud, not wanting to appear weak. He knew they meant well, but screwing a random whore just to fit-in and say he had wasn't something he had exactly been looking forward to, however peer pressure had encouraged him to go through with it. It wasn't too bad, he realized, but even knowing that he himself had come to enjoy the act, he always remembered the knot in his stomach leading up to his first time, and hearing you say that you might be scared of doing it made a similar knot form, only higher in his chest and feeling more like... pity? No, that wasn't quite it. Empathy? Yes, that was probably more accurate. Damn sentiment.
"It's not anything like that... it's just... I don't feel anything like that. I'm not even sure I'd know what that feeling is. It's just not there. I'm not scared, or even disgusted, I just feel... nothing."
"I'm not sure I follow..." Yondu said honestly. He supposed you feeling nothing was better than you being scared, but he still didn't quite understand.
"Ok, like, imagine you're surrounded by a feast, with everything you could ever want to eat, but you're not hungry. That's how I feel. I just don't want any of it," you said. Your voice cracked as you continued, "...and it's just so frustrating. Everyone else gets to be normal, while I just don't feel... anything. I don't want to do it-with anyone. When I think about it I feel nothing- it's like I'm broken." You covered your mouth, still not meeting Yondu's gaze as you tried to hold back frustrated tears.
Hearing you say that you thought you were broken tore at Yondu's heart. He wrapped an arm around you tightly and said in a firm voice, "Ya listen here. Yer not broken. I don't wanna hear that again. Look here."
You reluctantly do as he asks.
"Yer not broken," he said again, his face stern. "Sex doesn't make a person whole, so how could ya ever be broken, girl?"
You inhaled sharply as fresh tears pricked at your eyes. You hadn't realized until then that that was exactly what you needed to hear. You quickly wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest to hide your tears.
Taken aback at he sudden gesture, Yondu patted you on the back comfortingly and returned the hug. Good thing he locked the door. He doubted that any of his crew would be bothered to wash their clothes this early, but still, it would halt the possibility of new rumors that he was "going soft on the Terrans." He honestly wasn't sure he'd sleep tonight if he had to scold you for crying to save face with his crew right now.
You pulled back almost as soon as you went in, straightening up and quickly wiping your eyes.
"Feel better?"
You nodded.
Yondu sighed, "What to do now..." he said thoughtfully. "Ya know, I never actually liked this whole 'rite of passage' thing, to be fully honest. Crew just gets too wound up. Yer not the first to have reservations 'bout it. Handful of lads have come to me over the years, confiding that they were nervous, but scared of being bullied by the rest of the crew if they didn't go through with it. I suspect there might have been more, but were too scared of lookin' weak to tell their captain. I guess I can understand that."
Surprised by this honesty, you asked, "What did they do?"
"Faked it. They'd go on shore leave, pay a whore to put on a good loud show, yelling and banging on the walls 'n stuff, then lap up the congratulations of the rest of the crew for 'becoming a man.'"
You were further surprised that any of the the crew would have been that open with their captain to admit faking it. "Really?" you ask. "They told you about it after?"
"Who d'ya think told 'em to do it?" Yondu said, huffing a laugh out his nose.
That makes you smile, though you aren't quite sure why. After a moment of thought you say, "If you don't like the whole thing, why don't you stop it?"
Yondu sighed. "I don't think I could if I tried. It's widespread over all 100 Ravager factions. Doubt it do well to tell one faction they couldn't participate. Enough of them look forward to it they'd probably riot." Yondu laughed sardonically. "Not that I haven't thought about trying to steer the culture around it in a different direction. I can tell some of my older crew have the same thoughts, even if they won't admit it."
"How do you know if they never said?" you asked.
"The way they keep passing off horror stories as funny tales to the younger crew. Or did ya miss the story about how Vorker-"
"Nope! Heard it!" you cut him off suddenly. "I remember! I don't need to hear it again, please!" You held up your hands almost as if defending yourself from hearing it again, eyes wide. You most definitely did not need to hear a retelling of the time Vorker caught something very nasty off a girl he met on a job and the details that came with it. There were some rumors that it was how he really lost his eye, but you weren't sure of the truth behind those claims.
Yondu chuckled, patting you on the back. His expression changed when he said. "That's prob'ly what ya should do."
You raised an eyebrow at him.
"Fake it, I mean." he clarified. "Ya should wait til ya want to do it, with someone ya want, if that should ever happen. Not just go through with it to fulfill some dumbass rite of passage." He stared off into the space in front of him. "I can't really see another way to go 'bout it." he admitted. "If I called out for a change among the crew now they'd no doubt see the connection, think I was going soft 'cause yer the only girl here, and then it'd blowback on you. I ain't gonna let that happen." He gave you a look that you understood without him having to explain further. He actually cared about you, in a way similar to how he cared for Peter. He didn't want to see you hurt or bullied over something stupid like this.
You nodded in understanding, returning your gaze to the floor.
"Next shore leave is in a few days. I'll take care of it." Yondu said, his words surprising you.
"What?"
"Consider it a gift." he said, lightly punching you in the arm as he said, "Don't say I never gave ya anythin'."
"I don't understand?" you say, lightly laughing in confusion.
Yondu dramatically rolled his eyes and said, "Guess I gotta spell it out fer ya... I'll arrange for a "fake visit" from a nice whore-bot for ya. It actually costs more for them to fake it, if ya can believe it."
You stared at him, speechless. "I- thank you?" you finally say, blushing. You give him another quick hug.
"Ya, don't get used to it." he replied in his usual gruff fashion when you released him, but you knew better. The old softie.
Just then the machine buzzed, alerting that Yondu's clothes were finished washing. He stood from the table to switch them into a nearby dryer. Once done he turned back to face you. "Well, ya probably got other duties ya need to get to. Better get on 'em."
You smiled, giving him a mock-reluctant, "Yeah," before following him to the door.
You weren't expecting what happened next.
Yondu opened the door and exited, you following out behind. The hallway was no longer empty, and you heard the same young man from earlier, Rahi, call out from a group of two other Ravagers, "Ow Ow! Looks like she finally lost it to the Captain!"
No doubt he thought he was being funny, but he really, really, shouldn't have done that.
Yondu's whistle pierced the air, his arrow quickly finding its way to rest against Rahi's throat. "Ya wanna try that again?" Yondu growled.
Rahi couldn't find any words, just babbled out incoherent nonsense as he nearly shit his pants. The other two Ravagers in the group weren't laughing, just cowering with their friend afraid they'd be next once Yondu finished with him. Other crew mates standing within the hall also stopped to stare in stunned silence.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't run my arrow through ya for speakin' to yer captain like that? Even worse offense for implying I'd screw around with a child." Yondu's eyes were dark and full of rage. Even you were a bit frightened, enough to almost let the child comment slide, and you weren't even the target.
"Dude! He's so old! Ew!" you shout over to the terrified young Ravager, hoping to help the situation by making it clear that nothing like that was ever going to be a thing. And, if you were to be honest, slight payback for Yondu calling you a child.
Yondu whipped his head around to you, and you caught a momentary expression of "You little shit!" before he said, "And don't ya forget it!"
He turned back to Rahi. "I'm waiting." he said, still glowering and crossing his arms expectantly.
Rahi was still busy freaking out. It looked like he was about to cry. He eventually managed to squeak out a, "I'm sorry!" among his pleas for Yondu not to kill him.
Yondu called back his arrow. "That's what I thought. For yer smart mouth you and the other two there are gonna wash the outside of the Eclector, and yer all gonna keep at it until the whole ship's clean." With a smug smile he added. "Guess yer all gonna miss out on shore leave."
This obviously didn't go over well with Rahi's friends, who were now glaring and smacking him at the back of his green head. The next shore leave after the upcoming one wouldn't happen for another 3 months.
"Ya heard me. Git going. And yer still all responsible fer yer other duties too." Yondu added.
The three young men begrudgingly started making their way past when Yondu stopped them again with an, "Ah, Ah, Ah." making them turn back, dreading what else he might have to add.
"I think ya better apologize to this young lady too, for thinking she'd want her first time to be with someone so old." He looked at you pointedly as he said this and you squinted back at him, a nervous giggle escaping your throat as you rubbed the back of your head. Shouldn't have spoke up and called your captain old, now he was going to have to make an example of you as well for mouthing off. "Yer gonna be cleaning out the brig for that one, missy." he said, loud enough for everyone else to hear. Had to make it look good, after all.
Rahi muttered out an apology before scurrying away with his now very irritated mates, but not before Yondu cried out after him with a, "I'm startin' to think some of ya are gettin' a lil' too wound up about this lil' rite of passage among ya young-ins. It'd sure be a shame if you were the reason I decided to put an end to it." He said this with a thick veil of warning. It was a threat, and one you hadn't expected to hear after the conversation you just had with him.
It was clear that no one else in hallway had expected to hear this from their captain either. Looks of shock were exchanged among the Ravagers in the hallway. Rahi and his buddies' eyes all widened in shock when his words finally sunk in and their scurry turned into a sprint to get away before they could make things even worse. That comment Rahi made had apparently pissed the captain off bad.
"What the rest of ya staring at?" Yondu said, startling the rest of the hallway dwelling crew into motion. "I know ya'll got shit to do, get on it!" He looked at you and cocked his head as if to say "Get moving." and you obeyed, making your way toward the brig to complete your extra cleaning duties.
Yondu did his best to hide a smirk as he made his way down to his quarters. He knew rumors would start spreading like wildfire about Rahi nearly causing Yondu to put an end to the rite of passage after that display. It was bound to piss more than a few of the younger crew off. He didn't care much for the lazy shit anyway, so it was better the crew think he was the reason for any upcoming changes rather than you, and if it succeeded in helping him end the whole culture around that particular thing, even better. They really did get too wound up about it.
***
The morning of shore leave came and you were nervous as hell. Yondu had pulled you aside the night before to let you know he had taken care of what he promised, and described the whore-bot he paid to help you fake it so you would know which one to accept. Still, even knowing it was taken care of you couldn't help the growing pit of nervousness in your stomach, though you did your best to hide it.
Since clearly the Eclector couldn't dock on the planet, being about a mile and a half long and all, Ravagers on shore leave would pool together on M-ships for the journey to and back, kind of like a funny buddy-system.
As per usual, you pooled in a ship with Yondu, Kraglin, and Peter along with Tullk, Oblo, and Horuz. Yondu and Kraglin sat up front to pilot, Tullk, Oblo and Horuz filled in the middle, while you and Peter got put in the back, as always.
While the older men laughed and carried on in front of you, you felt Peter nudge you in the arm. You looked over to see him looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "You ok?" he asked, having noticed how you were unusually quiet and fidgety.
"Yeah, I'm great." you lied, "Never better."
Peter rolled his eyes with a knowing smile. "Don't give me that. Are ya nervous?" he asked, obviously knowing full well what everyone expected you'd be doing on this shore leave. "You can tell me. I won't tell anyone."
You gave him a look, saying, "No!" before coming clean with a, "Fine. A little." as you turned your gaze down into your lap to fidget with your watch some more.
"It'll be ok," he assured, "I was a little nervous my first time, too," he admitted. Peter was a few years older than you at 20, and it was hard for you to picture him having been nervous about it, seeing as he now seemed to be trying to work his way through every cute girl in the galaxy.
"Really?" you asked, eyeing him skeptically.
"Yeah. I mean, I was still super excited, but I was a little nervous too. Those horror stories the older guys tell us really get to you."
You giggled with him, remembering what Yondu had told you the other day.
Peter continued, "But anyway, you're gonna be fine. But I did want to give you this." He pulled something out of his jacket pocket and handed it to you. It was a condom.
"Peter!" you whisper-shouted, blushing.
"Hey, if you're gonna do it, I wanna know you're being smart about it. Always use protection. Even with the Love-bots. Can't ever be too careful." He held his hand out more insistently.
You blushed harder and accepted the gift, even though you knew you wouldn't be needing it. "Thanks."
"Come on now, don't get all frowny on me. I'm just looking out for you." Peter teased, aiming a few pokes at your ribs, knowing it always got a good giggle or two out of you.
It worked. Giggles escaped your throat as you twisted in your seat and swatted at his hand, "Quit it!" you squeaked, but his mission was accomplished anyway, you were smiling now.
"There we go!" he teased, grinning at you.
"Shush!" you replied, sticking your tongue out at your friend and laughing when he flicked you in the arm for it. Soon enough the two of you were in a slap battle. You weren't really fighting, and neither of you struck with the intent to hurt (well, not much anyway) it was just how the two of you played sometimes. This carried on until you heard Yondu announce that you all had made it to your destination, and then the nervousness started to creep back into your belly.
Peter and you were the last off the ship. Yondu and the other men headed off, leaving the two of you to your own devices with calls to behave yourselves, but "not too much" *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*
You almost wished he had stuck around longer, but you knew he had already done his part. It would look weird if he stuck around to hold your hand, so to speak. You look to Peter, wanting to stall just a bit longer. "So, ya hungry?"
"Figured you'd want to get right to business," he teased. He knew you were probably stalling, but decided to go along with it anyway rather than abandon you straight away. You had been here before, but he knew this time was different. This time there was a pressure to do something new, and you had already admitted you were nervous about it.
"Uh, can't do it on an empty stomach," you say, forcing a smile.
He ruffled your hair. "Good point. I'm starving." He suggested you two grab some fries at the nearby bar inside the brothel (the whole place was the brothel, let's be honest) and you followed him.
When you both had finished you tried to think of something else to stall, maybe play some pool? However, you never got the chance, for a whore-bot with green hair and looking to be around your age came over to your table to greet you. It was the one Yondu told you to look for, and it asked if it could "show you a good time." You looked nervously at Peter who shot you a thumbs up while trying not to laugh. You glanced back at the bot and tentatively nodded, which Peter took as a sign to high-tail it out of there, leaving you alone. The bot asked for your ID, as you knew it would, and part of you wished you "forgot" it back on the ship, knowing that the bots were programed to refuse service to anyone under the age of 17 and required ID of younger-looking patrons to prove it.
After scanning your ID, the bot took you by the hand and flirtatiously led you across the room to a set of stairs. You began to hear some cheers as you ascended the stairs behind the bot and you were blushing too hard to even attempt to ham it up for their benefit.
Once in the room the bot turned to you. "I understand this isn't meant to be an ordinary engagement. Mr. Udonta left instructions to only perform counterfeit coitus, correct?"
You blushed and nodded, taken aback by the professionalism of the sex-bot, before wondering if you were being rude by assuming otherwise.
"Have you done this before?"
You shook your head, still blushing.
"It's alright. There's plenty of time to figure it out. I've been booked for three hours."
You sputtered. "Excuse me?!" you cried, trying not to be too loud. "Three-? What are we supp-"
The bot gave a laugh and held up its hand. "Do not worry, Miss. I was paid extra to deliver that joke. Mr. Udonta felt it would be very funny. I've only actually been booked for an hour, the standard amount of time."
You let a sigh of relief. You still felt that an hour was going to drag on, but at least it wasn't flarkin' three. "So, what do we do?"
The bot took your hand again and led you to the large bed in the center of the room. "Lie down here." You looked at the bot nervously and it clarified. "The noises will be more realistic if both our weights are on the bed."
You did as the bot instructed and it climbed over you. "I understand this may be awkward, but I'll ask that you trust the process. I will do this," the bot began to rhythmically rock its body back and forth, each rock ending in its hands hitting the headboard and making it knock into the wall behind it. "and then you can start making moaning sounds, you can repeat after me." The bot then started moan, encouraging you with a gesture of its hand when you were too busy blushing to follow the lead. You did your best to mimic the sounds. "We shall continue like this for 10 minutes, and then rest." the bot instructed, ushering you again with more hand gestures when you paused to give it a puzzled look.
After several minutes the bot prompted you to get louder, and then louder again still a few moments after. You realized it was coaching you to simulate you approaching the climax and you got nervous again, not knowing what to do when "that moment" was meant to happen. The bot read your face and told you to relax, just follow it's lead as it thumped against the wall faster and it moaned louder.
You followed its lead until it told you to make a last few loud "Oh's!" and then it began to slow its thumping before coming to a stop.
Whoops and laughter could be heard from the bar outside the door shortly after, and you blushed harder as the bot crawled off of you. "We will now have a few minutes of rest before beginning another simulation."
You sat up. "So we'll just keep repeating like this until the time's up?" you asked.
"Not quite," answered the bot. "We'll change things up a bit, different positions, different sounds, helps to keep it interesting."
"This seems like a lot of work?" you say.
"Yes, well we're paid to put on a show here. Might as well ensure it's convincing," the bot answered with a shrug and a smile.
You winced as you realized you could hear similar noises you had just faked coming from the rooms next to yours and then more whooping and cheering once they, too, stopped. "The walls are kinda thin in here, huh?" you say awkwardly.
The bot smiled sympathetically, "It seems that way, but not really. Only the louder noises make it out. Normal conversation levels are typically left unheard from outside the rooms, so you're clear to speak freely if that was a concern."
"Good to know," you say. You honestly had been a little concerned about that. "So, do we just sit around then?"
"I could give you a massage, if you'd like."
"That... actually sounds really nice. Sure, thank you." You accept the offer, realizing you could use a little stress reliever. "What's your name, by the way?" you ask, feeling a bit guilty for not having asked the bot's name before then and wondering if you should feel silly about that or not.
"You may call me Finn," the bot answered, not seeming fazed in the slightest. "Would you prefer to remove your clothes or leave them on?" The bot- Finn- motioned for you to turn around to give it access to your back.
"Um, clothes on, please?" you say, reaching for your zipper. "But I'll take off my jacket."
"Alright." The bot said, it's tone not caring in the slightest, and you supposed it very likely didn't care one way or another. It went straight to work, starting slow by gathering your hair and pulling it back and up almost as if it were going to tie your hair in a ponytail, but instead of securing an elastic it just repeated this motion a few more times. It was actually very relaxing, and it made you wish you had someone around to play with your hair more often.
With a final gentle tug the bot moved one hand to your forehead while the other worked at the back of your neck, kneading where the nape of your neck met your skull, making you close your eyes and sigh deeply.
To your delight the bot then threaded its fingers through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. A soft hum escapes you as you stopped yourself from leaning into to touch out of shyness, and you almost let out a whine when the scratching stopped. However, you were soon soothed by the bot beginning to knead into your neck and shoulders.
You had just barely stopped yourself from moaning once when the bot then pressed into another spot that made it impossible to not make a sound, though you tried. Finn speaks up. "Let yourself relax fully," the bot encouraged. "It's alright to allow yourself to be noisy here, may even work to your benefit under the circumstances."
You giggled slightly and blushed. Finn was right, after all. If there were any time to just let go and relax it would technically be here and now. Before you could think much further Finn had dragged the knuckles of each thumb up each side of your spine with just the right amount of pressure to coax a genuine moan out of you, surprising you as it happened. You had never really realized before just how much stress your work as a Ravager took out on your back. You began to wonder if these Love-bots were also designed to be professional masseuses, because Finn seemed to know exactly what they were doing, and it was amazing.
Finn ended the massage a bit later by working back up your back and working their fingertips back into your hair for a last bit scalp massage.
You were almost disappointed when it ended, but when it was over you turned to look at the Love-bot. "Thank you, that was really nice." you say.
"Anytime." Finn smiled. "We still have twenty minutes left, shall we begin another simulation?"
You sighed. "I suppose. He paid for an hour, might as well act like I'm using it." You smiled, not feeling quite as bitter about the situation anymore after the massage. Finn really did have magic fingers. Or state of the art massage programing. Probably the latter.
"Indeed." Finn answered. "After all, there are no refunds."
You let out a slight chuckle at the bot's bluntness. "Alright, so what now?"
The next simulation involved you both standing on the edge of the bed with the wall to hold your balance as you bounced slightly up and down to make the bed squeak. The bot encouraged your to make similar noises as before, but to also throw out some curses, like, "Oh! Fuck!" It even did the same, occasionally calling out a "Yes! Right there! Oh, yes!" that made you raise an eyebrow. You had to fight from giggling the whole time at the situation. It was pretty funny after all. You were both jumping on the bed like children.
When that simulation had finished you sat down on the bed and looked at Finn. "Do you guys... er...-bots?... feel anything?" you asked, referring to the language the bot had used earlier. "Or are you just supposed to say stuff like that as an act?"
"We don't have nerve endings, and therefore we don't really 'feel things' like you might, but there are certain sensors that can be activated during a session with a client and prompt a correct response. However, as this session is only a simulation, I suppose you can call my dialogue 'acting.'"
You half-grinned when the realization of the bot's words hit you. "Are you saying... you're like a 'sexy' arcade game?" you say, trying not to giggle, before becoming suddenly afraid that might have been offensive. "I mean- obviously you're not a toy- I mean- I didn't mean to offend you."
The bot chuckled. "There's no need to worry. There are certain similarities, one could see how you might draw that conclusion."
You blushed again and attempted to change the subject. "So... what are we going to do with the last simulation?"
"You have a couple options. We can simulate against the door, or we can simulate bending over the bed. We could also simulate oral, but the noises you made during the massage more or less already worked in its favor."
You blushed at that. You already knew the door was out of the question, as you had an admittedly irrational fear that it might pop open as you were faking the deed. "We can try over the bed."
"Very well. This one will require less movement of you, you may remain seated there." Finn said as they stood up and moved to stand with their legs between your own. "This one may also be a bit awkward," the bot warned, "as it requires thrusting into the bed on my part. Ready?"
You nodded hesitantly and the bot began a steady rhythm of motion against the bed, making it creak.
The bot was right. This was more awkward, and you were grateful when it was finally over with about five minutes to spare.
You stood from bed and grabbed your jacket. "Thanks. This wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be." you said truthfully. In fact, you really almost thought you'd come back if for no other reason than to get another back rub.
"You still have five more minutes, is there anything else I can do for you today?"
You smiled shyly and said, "Well, I won't argue if you play with my hair again..."
***
You were of course greeted with congratulatory cheers and high-fives when you exited the room along with the other few crew mates who had recently come of age... and had still been allowed to attend shore leave that is. R.I.P Rahi and his friends. (They hadn't died, but you can bet they were probably really regretting pissing Yondu off.)
A few fellow Ravagers bought you some congratulatory drinks and the rest of the night seemed to fly by.
Eventually you caught back up with Peter and shortly after that Yondu announced it was time to head back, which of course received some disappointed grumbling among the crew. However, nobody argued, knowing it might cost them their next shore leave if they got "fussy like toddlers" as Yondu would say.
You and Peter got back to the ship to find Tullk and Oblo already there waiting. Horuz showed up just after and sighed to see Yondu and Kraglin weren't there yet. Yondu and Kraglin were the only ones with keys to Yondu's M-ship, so you all had to stand outside and converse among yourselves as he took his sweet time getting there.
He was probably just paying the Sneeper woman who owned the place and would be there any minute, but 'any minute' still felt like forever when it was cold.
Eventually he and Kraglin did show up and unlock the ship so you could all get in.
Once inside the ship and mostly everyone had strapped in Kraglin called back to you from the co-pilots seat with tipsy laughter in his voice. "So d'ya have fun? Feel any different? Any horror stories to add to the list?" He looked teasingly at Oblo and Oblo flipped him the bird.
Yondu swatted at him, saying, "Aw, leave the girl alone," but there was also laughter in his scolding, so he wasn't that serious.
You answered anyway. "Ya. Had a blast, Kraglin. Smooth sailing. Just a little sleepy."
This made the other men chuckle, though you weren't entirely sure why, although you could guess.
Yondu piped up. "If she falls asleep Quill's gotta carry her in."
Peter scoffed with a laugh. "Why do I gotta?" he said, before turning to you to add. "You better not fall asleep then."
"Well if you fall asleep I ain't carrying you in! Probably break my back if I tried. You can just stay sleeping in the ship." you laughed back.
"Why you little!" Peter cried out with a grin, aiming to poke you in the ribs, but you dodged him, returning a swat of your own to his arm. And, like on the way over, the two of you were engrossed in another slap battle. The others just let you two carry on, busy with their own conversations and laughing amongst themselves.
Eventually you and Peter did tire yourselves out and Yondu chuckled to the other men when after docking the ship he noticed you had both fallen asleep, curled up in your respective seats. Oblo snapped a picture, cooing, "Aw look! Ain't that precious!"
"Send that to me." Yondu said with a grin. "Might blow it up, hang it in the Mess Hall." This earned a laugh from the others. He looked at Tullk with a grin before exiting the ship. "Ya better wake 'em. I'm sure as hell not carryin' them to bed."
***
The next morning Yondu was alone in his quarters when he decided to call up Stakar.
After a few rings Stakar's face comes up on the screen, and the two men give a Ravager salute in greeting before Stakar asks what's brought Yondu to call him.
"I wanna talk to ya about that whole coming of age and having sex thing."
Stakar raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"
"Younger crew just get too wound up about it. It ain't healthy." Yondu responded.
Stakar still looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"Ya know what I mean." Yondu said firmly. "They get all wound up like it's the most important thing in the world, and it's because everyone makes a big old deal outta something silly like that."
"It hasn't been a problem before?" Stakar said thoughtfully. "What's changed? It's that Terran girl isn't it? Of course. She just came of age." Stakar shook his head. "I don't care what you say, you're soft on her and Peter. You can't get attached and let them influence your judgement like that, Yondu."
"No, it ain't like that," Yondu said, trying to cover his ass and continuing before Stakar can interrupt him. "It's got nothin' to do with them. I just can't have my crew bullying their mates just cause they don't wanna fuck yet or lettin' the whole thing get to their heads makin' them all disrespectful-like. Almost had to keel-haul a few boys who suddenly thought they were big enough to start disrespecting their captain over it."
Stakar looked at him suspiciously. "No, we can't have that... What do you propose then? It's not like we can stop them. You tell young people they can't do something, they're only gonna do it more."
"I know that- Look. I'm not sayin' we do away with it entirely. I could care less what they do on shore-leave. But we can maybe make them realize it's not such a big damn deal. Ya know, slow-like. Maybe they'd stop getting so wound-up about it." Yondu said, quickly adding, "If they're less focused on that maybe they'd work harder."
Stakar thought for a bit. Yondu was right, he thought. He had noticed the younger crowd getting a bit wound up about it, and sometimes they did let the excitement get ahead of their duties... "Maybe you're right," he conceded. "If it's affecting their jobs maybe we should try and change the culture around it... I'll talk with some of the other captains and get back to you."
Yondu grinned and nodded. "All I ask."
***
You felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. It was the day after shore-leave and no one had brought up how you "Became a woman" at all. It was as if the previous week's excitement had been completely forgotten, and you couldn't be happier.
You did notice in the following days that Rahi seemed to be getting a bit of flack. He hadn't been particularly well liked before, always trying to push his duties off on other crew mates or blaming others for things he had broken, but now he was practically a pariah. Even his buddies didn't seem to want much to do with him, though that could be because they were still mad that they had been dragged under into his punishment despite not having done anything to deserve it other than be with him at the time.
You almost felt bad for him until Peter explained that along with the 'written' rule that Ravagers don't deal in kids; harming or forming inappropriate relationships with children and teens (i.e: having sexual relations with younger crew) was also a HUGE no-no. Even worse if the offender is someone high-ranking. Rahi, though he just thought he was being funny, had more or less unwittingly falsely accused Yondu of breaking that part of the code with the joke he made, hence why Yondu had been so offended and pissed. Peter was honestly surprised Yondu had let him live after that.
He also added that no one wants to be around someone who thinks it's funny to make those particular jokes. Real accusations of that nature are taken very seriously among Ravager Clans, so if someone is found to just be flippantly saying crap like that, the general feel is that it makes it harder for real victims to be heard, so the crew will tend to shun the offender to make it clear that behavior isn't acceptable. And well, if the offender didn't learn their lesson pretty quick and get back into the good graces of their captain and crew, they'd quickly find themselves to be cannon fodder.
Even Ravagers know there's a line between raunchy and unacceptable.
There may have also been the matter that when Yondu had said "I'm startin' to think some of ya are gettin' a lil' too wound up about this lil' rite of passage among ya young-ins. It'd sure be a shame if you were the reason I decided to put an end to it." much of the crew, after the rumor had gotten twisted up a bit via game of telephone, had taken it to mean that Rahi had almost gotten shore-leave taken away from everyone- forever. And well, that just didn't sit right with a lot of folks. It was a final nail in the coffin, if you will.
However, what you didn't know was about Yondu's conversation with Stakar.
Stakar did go talk to the other captains, and more than a few did finally admit similar instances among their younger ranks after having heard through the grapevines about a giant stink a lad called Rahi had caused on Udonta's ship. They admitted to instances of bullying, pressure, and disrespect occurring and directly related to the particular rite of passage and collectively agreed with Yondu that a change surrounding the culture could be beneficial, much to Yondu's surprise, and also his relief.
He never did tell you about his conversation with Stakar, though he was sure you may start to suspect if everything went well and things started changing regarding that particular aspect of life. As long as no one else had to feel like he saw you feeling that night in the laundry, he'd be happy.
You had come to his quarters the day after the visit to Contraxia, knocking almost as soon as he had hung up with Stakar. You had wanted to thank him him for helping you, both with the advice and with the Love-Bot. You told him how you felt so much better after having that talk with him, and how you no longer felt broken.
He'd never say, because screw sentiment, but it warmed his heart to know he helped you realize there was nothing wrong with you, that you had never been damaged. You two parted with a hug and he let you know to not be afraid if you needed to come to him about stuff like that in the future, just not to make a habit of telling the others lest they accuse him of going soft.
You were his little girl, something else he never intended to say out loud, because again, screw sentiment. He felt a responsibility for your well-being, even if you could be a little shit like Peter sometimes.
Ah, fuck sentiment. He knew you two were his kids, and he was damn proud.
***
About a week after shore leave you and Peter happened across Yondu outside the Mess Hall doors as you were heading in for supper.
"Hey, look! It's Terran One and Terran two!" Yondu said, oddly loudly.
"Um, hi?" You gave him an odd look. "What's up?"
"Now why would ya think somethin's up? Can't a captain greet his crew outside the Mess Hall before dinner?"
'Something's definitely up.' you thought, sharing a glance with Peter who was clearly thinking the same thing. "Are we in trouble? Did we do something?" Peter chuckled nervously. He didn't know about you, but he had maybe definitely rigged a supply closet in the control room with some firecrackers, and he wasn't sure if some poor soul (probably Kraglin) had already fell victim to it, meaning he was about to be in hot water.
You were also grinning nervously. You didn't know about Peter's firecrackers, but you had also maybe definitely hidden some poppers under the cushion of Yondu's desk chair that morning when he was busy on the other side of the ship, but you weren't going to just turn yourself in without more information, now were you?
"I dunno, you tell me." Yondu said, smirking. "Are you in trouble? Ya'll got a guilty conscience?"
You and Peter shared a nervous glance. You both knew you both were most definitely guilty of something, however you two had a code. Never turn yourself in, and never turn your buddy in. You looked back at Yondu, suppressing a nervous giggle. "No? I don't think so?"
Kraglin then came outside the Mess Hall doors to stand with Yondu. Kraglin had a big shit eating grin on his face, almost as if he were trying not to laugh when he saw you and Peter there.
Yondu threw him a glance which Kraglin returned with a nod. You noticed this and you exchanged another look with Peter. Something was definitely up. This felt like a trap.
"Well, what're ya waiting for? Get in there and grab some supper!" Yondu ordered, grinning strangely. He opened the door for you- oh shit something was absolutely up here.
You and Peter eyed him suspiciously but obeyed, entering the Mess hall without a word.
Once inside you noticed the rest of the crew inside were all oddly quiet, all staring at the two of you with grins and some suppressing giggles behind their hands. You heard the doors shut behind you and turned to see Yondu and Kraglin standing in front of them, both donning the biggest shit eating grins of all time.
"Cap'n has a surprise for you guys, d'ya- do ya like it?" Kraglin asked, trying to suppress his own giggles.
You heard Peter exclaim a, "Oh hell no!" and you turned to see what had caught his attention, noticing the crew had finally broke out into loud raucous laughter around you.
Hanging high on the wall about 10 feet to the right of the Mess Hall entrance doors was a humongous blown up photo of you and Peter. It was the photo you guys didn't know Oblo had snapped when you returned from Contraxia. It showed the two of you each curled up asleep in your respective seats of Yondu's M-ship. Peter was sucking his thumb. You were cuddling one of Yondu's softer dash toys.
You both paled as you stared up at the giant poster hung high on the wall. Hung conveniently high enough that neither of you would be able to reach it to rip it down, although Peter made a few good attempts.
Your eyes narrowed at your captain as he approached you, his laughter matching that of the crew. He pulled you towards him and ruffled your hair as he asked. "What's the matter? Ya don't like yer surprise?"
You glared up at him as Peter was now climbing up on a chair in a vain attempt to reach and pull the photo down. "This so means war, blue man!"
"Don't pick fights ya can't win, pipsqueak." Yondu laughed. "Consider this payback for those poppers in my chair, and ya can tell Peter this is for those firecrackers in the supply closet."
You sighed and punched him in the arm, but he only laughed and pulled you in close to ruffle your hair again, "Oh lighten up! Ya don't really expect me to just let my kids have all the fun, huh?"
You jerked your head towards him with a surprised expression, and it seemed it was only then he realized what he had said. Grateful that no one else would have heard it over his noisy crew he attempted to backtrack. "Uh, don't read too much into it." he said, clapping you on the back and announcing to Kraglin that he was going to grab some food. Kraglin, who was busy laughing at Peter, who had seemingly given up his attempts to rip down the photo in favor of walking dejectedly back over to you, nodded and joined his Captain in obtaining some supper.
Peter and you turned to face the photo again, the laughter from the crew still not having died down. Peter spoke first. "This means war, right?"
"Definitely. I had already set up a dye pack in Yondu's shower earlier. He'll be a weird shade of purple by morning," you affirmed with a grin.
"Nice. We gotta get one on Kraglin too."
"Absolutely," you reply. "After supper?"
"Yeah. After supper." Peter agreed.
The two of you made your way to get your supper, ignoring the laughs and teases of the other Ravagers along the way and discussing further options of getting Yondu and Kraglin back for this.
He may be like a father to you two, but that didn't mean he'd get off easy.
#gotg#gotg fanfiction#guardians of the galaxy#yondu x reader#long fanfiction#yondu udonta#x reader#reader is a ravager#papa!yondu#daddy!yondu#peter quill#peter quill x reader#yondu udonta x reader#kraglin#ace#demi#ace!reader#demi!reader#sfw
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Just for Tonight
Summary: Miya Atsumu believes that he can find happiness as long as he keeps looking. Can he find the one?
Notes: This fic combines my love for fuccboi!Atsumu and the stuff he can say to make me swoon lol
January Fic List || Masterlist || Read it on A03
Miya Atsumu x reader
genre: friends to lovers (?), pining, unrequited love? (wc: 1.2k)
“Should I chase them down the airport and apologize?” Atsumu bangs at your door at 10:30 pm on a Thursday night.
He’s been knocking for 5 minutes and you’re sure to hear from the neighbors tomorrow, but you couldn’t get to the door sooner because you were in the shower. You open the door just enough for him to see you.
“What went wrong this time?” you snap irritably, “And I’m closing the door because it’s cold and you interrupted my shower.”
The current person he was dating dumped him just before they went on a trip. Although Miya Atsumu has got game, he’s not very good at keeping romantic partners he brings into his life. Him asking advice at odd hours of the clock happens more often than you’d like.
“Err…they said something about me needing to give them more space and to be more sensitive about the way I talk.” he recounts from the other side of your door.
You roll your eyes. This is not the first time you’ve heard of these complaints against Atsumu. In fact, they are recurring.
“Atsumu, you have no subtlety, no tact,” you massage your temples even if he can’t see it, “You need to learn how to communicate and compromise better. Not everyone can handle someone so frank. And you’re really clingy for a grown ass man, so you gotta work on that if you want any of your relationships to work.”
He’s quiet for a while, thinking through your advice, hands probably sunk into his MSBY jacket.
“You don’t seem to mind that I talk the way I do.” you can almost see him scowling, “Also can you let me in?”
“No.” you simply put, “But I’m not them and vice-versa. I’m not your girlfriend, Atsumu, nor am I standard for tolerance.”
“You would be but you refuse to date me.” he exhales, probably scratching his head and leaning back into his heels.
“I would only date you if I want to get rid of you. None of your relationships last more than 6 months.” You finally open the door and cross your arms across your chest. A cold gust of wind sends regrets down your spine, “Now shoo!! Go away. I’m going back to my shower.”
He puts his hands on his hips and calls out loudly to no one in particular, “You don’t need to hide yourself from me. I know what you look like naked…”
You slam the door in his face, “BYE. I'M HEADING BACK TO MY NICE HOT SHOWER.”
“And you’re gorgeous by the way!!” he gleefully adds.
As he turns his heels back into his own place, his mind wanders to your body: the hollows of your hips, the curves of your collarbone, your skin against his fingertips. You felt impossibly soft against him that one night you may or may not have hooked up.
He wouldn’t have minded hooking up a second time, but you turned him down, saying that you’d rather stay just friends. Ever since then, you’ve been on the back of his mind. He couldn’t shake how he saw you in a new light. As one of his closest friends, you easily understood him and you were sexually compatible. That was all the makings of a good relationship right?
He quickly texts you that he won’t be dating for a while. He needs time to think.
—————————————————————————------------
Atsumu’s dating life is quiet for a while, which is weird because he’s an inexorable flirt. Something changes in Atsumu. He stops going on consecutive dates. He’s spending more time in your circle of friends. He even tries reading as a hobby.
Your chat exchange is mostly memes, free of emergency advice for the women in his romantic life. You’re a little dumbfounded, but at least it’s peaceful.
Trouble starts brewing when he calls one evening.
“It’s my birthday tomorrow. Let’s go out.”
“Who else is invited?” you check your calendar, “And which club are we heading to?” You better clear the rest of the weekend, because Atsumu is one to party through the night.
“No one else. Just you.” he casually says. You almost drop your phone into your pot. Is this some kind of prank?
“Atsumu, when I said I didn’t want to hook up again that includes dating too.” you gripe.
He immediately jumps to convince you. “Just one date. We don’t have to do this again. I swear!”
Which is how the next day Atsumu is standing with you outside your door at the end of the night. Every detail of him is defined because the moon is out and the sky is bright. You almost hate to admit it, but you’ve had a really good time tonight. He can be extremely charming when he wants to be
“Can I kiss you goodnight?” he asks.
You hesitate at first.
“Just for tonight.” you jab a finger into his chest. He nods.
He leans in surprisingly gentle. His lips land on yours, warm and soft. His firm hands, slide down your back to your waist before settling into your hips. He presses his body to yours to feel your dips and curves. Although he feels heat rising from his core, he’s careful to reign in his instincts.
He slides his tongue into mouth and pulls away for a quick breath before diving back in. He notices your hands at your sides and guides them to his chest. He craves for your touch.
He eventually takes his hand off your hips and holds your hands with his. The palm of his thumbs run the back of your hands—an unexpectedly sweet gesture from him.
After you’re both done kissing, he lightly presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes, reveling in the intimacy of the moment. You’ve never seen him so tender, it almost makes your heart skip a beat.
“I know I don’t have the best history but I really want you to give me a shot.” he whispers, squeezing your hand. “You feel so right for me.”
You don’t really talk. Instead you press your head on the crook of his shoulder and he absently runs a hand up and down the nape of your neck. You feel your heart beat grow louder after each passing second. Why does it feel like it’s so easy to fall for him all of a sudden?
“But am I right for you?” you mumble, mostly to him but in part to yourself. You can feel him tense up.
He bites his lip and pulls away, “Mmm…maybe a question for another time.”
———————————————————— When Atsumu is showered and tucked into bed, he closes his eyes to try to remember how you smelled like
He looks at his phone and tosses it aside before picking it up again to call your number.
“So I’m about to go to sleep…and I remembered that our goodbyes…were cut short.” he carefully chooses his words, “Can you wish me goodnight?”
He hears you stifle a laugh.
“Good night, Atsumu, oyasuminasai.” you bade him, a warm feeling spreads in his chest. “Happy birthday. I hope you had a good one.”
You click off after that. He smiles to himself.
Atsumu daydreams what it would be like for you to be beside him, but he’ll have to make do with tonight’s call until then.
“Happy birthday.” you had said. Well, he’s the happiest when he’s with you.
-------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: Heya! If you liked this fic, I wrote a follow up. Check it here.
Taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan @kaizumi @holaaaf @glxar
Comment or message to be added to the taglist! :D
#miya atsumu#atsumu fluff#atsumu angst#atsumu x y/n#atsumu x reader#atsumu x you#miya atsumu x reader#miya atsumu x you#miya atsumu x female reader#inarizaki x you#inarizaki x y/n#inarizaki x reader#hq fluff#hq fanfic#hq x y/n#hq x reader#hq x you#haikyuu x self insert#hq oneshots#haikyuu oneshot#hq images#haikyuu x you
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Whumpmas in July - Day 6
Prompt - Mistake
A day late (hence the birthday date and everything) and 100% lacking any fluff, but there’s no real whump either, so. Takes place seven days after Jimmy rescues Apple from the street. :)
[Previous] [Masterlist]
CW: A dash of PTSD, begging for punishment, brief breakfast mention (food), bruises, caretaker as new master, crying, low self esteem, mentioned cutting, whipping, and beating, pet whump, referenced past torture, scars, Stockholm Syndrome
Tagging: @happy-whumper, @milk-carton-whump, @sideblogformindtrash, @whumperfulart, @unicornscotty, @starnight-whump (Let me know if you want to be added or removed!) Apple’s Mistake
Apple wakes with the startling realization that Temporary Master Jimmy’s birthday was yesterday, He caught a glimpse of the date when he entered the apartment that first day, on the erasable calendar on the side of the fridge. “My birthday :)” had been written under July 5 in blue marker.
At the time, he’d had a whole week to plan. But his mind had been elsewhere, on Master Clay and Benji and everything he was missing about home.
But he can’t think about that now. Apple flings the blankets off his body and scrambles off the bed like it’s made of fire.
Stupid, he thinks harshly to himself. He smooths down the comforter and rearranges the pillows as quickly as he can. Stupid, getting so comfortable in a stranger’s home.
The bed and the bedtime stories and the plushie, clasped tightly in his hand. Apple stares at it and its little apple stem, but the anger and shame and disbelief burn in his stomach, and he flings it across the room. All of it a distraction, gifts and toys and a false sense of security to trip him up for an excuse to punish him.
Masters, no matter how temporary, have rules and expectations and ulterior motives.
Master Clay would never do this to him.
But Apple knows he has to abide if he wants any chance of getting home to him, so rushes to Temporary Master Jimmy’s room across the apartment, bursts through the door, and falls to his bruised but healing knees. Temporary Master Jimmy, he’s probably been waiting for hours for Apple to realize his mistake. The least Apple can do is be accommodating. He can offer his body for punishment as he did Master Clay. He’ll appreciate that, won’t he? An accepting, eager pet?
Temporary Master Jimmy, who jolted awake and clambered up and back against his pillows and headboard the moment Apple crashed into the room, is staring at him with big, wide eyes. “Apple, what—?”
“Forgive me, Temporary Master Jimmy!” Apple bows his head in submission, then grabs at the hem of his shirt. “I forgot your birthday. Please punish me. As a gift! A belated birthday gift.”
His hands are shaking terribly. What will Temporary Master Jimmy do to him? Will he cut him or whip him or beat him? Worse still, what horrible ideas will he get from the scars decorating his back?
Apple shakes his head. He can’t think of that now, not while his temporary master is waiting. Quickly, so he can get it over with—so that Temporary Master Jimmy doesn’t have to wait, he corrects—he tugs his shirt up and over his head, then his arms out of the too-long sleeves. Once it’s off, he takes his shaking hands and buries them in it.
“I’m ready for you, Temporary Master Jimmy.” His voice is so much weaker now.
Temporary Master Jimmy slides off his bed. He’s staring.
Apple understands. Underneath his clothes, he’s a… sight. Scars, dozens of them, hundreds of them—from the salesman mostly, he remembers with a shudder, but also Master Clay. He cherishes those.
And he’s covered in bruises, too. Fading ones, like the big patch across his stomach from when Master Clay got back from a big meeting, stressed, and Apple offered himself to help. The last time Master Clay put his hands on him. His fingers absentmindedly graze over the tender blue skin.
When Apple looks up again, Temporary Master Jimmy isn’t in front of him anymore. He’s behind him, still deathly quiet.
He’ll do something to his back, Apple thinks, although that doesn’t lessen the possibilities much. The salesman did all sorts of things back there. He’d called it “abstract” once. Like abstract art, all splashes and sharp strokes and random, ugly mess—that and the big rectangular scar in the center, the “subject.” He said that any trained pet had these kinds of scars. But Benji didn’t. Still doesn’t.
The salesman said a lot of things.
Something wet falls into Apple’s palm. Blood is his first thought. Only it isn’t blood. It’s clear and warm but cold just as fast. Another drop and another. Sweat is the second thought, but of course he knows as much that it’s not. They’re tears. He wipes them up quick and fast, like he’d do for Master Clay,
But Temporary Master Jimmy must see them, because he snaps out of whatever stupor he was in, and the next thing Apple knows, he’s staring into blue eyes. “What’s wrong, Apple? Can you… can you tell me what’s wrong?”
Apple shakes away the haunted expression he’s wearing and plasters a smile on instead. He pretends he’s talking to Master Clay. He pushes the salesman back into the deep dark corners of his mind. It helps. “Nothing, Temporary Master Jimmy. I’m ready for my punishment now.”
“What? No, Apple, I’m… I’m not going to punish you.” He eases the balled up shirt from Apple’s hands and shakes it out. “I— Where is this coming from? Here, put this back on.”
Apple reluctantly takes the shirt, searching Temporary Master Jimmy’s eyes for deceit. “I forgot your birthday. My punishment is your gift.” Like you wanted.
“No. No, no… no, we don’t… we don’t do that here.”
Temporary Master Jimmy isn’t looking at him full on anymore. His scars. Apple’s probably disgusted him. “...My mistake.” He pulls his shirt back on.
Temporary Master Jimmy visibly relaxes when he’s done. “Do you… do you want some breakfast? Or I can run you a bath if you want.”
Apple almost doesn’t hear him, too lost in thought, because whatever punishment Temporary Master Jimmy’s building up for, it’s something big.
Master Clay would never toy with him like this.
Still, Apple wears that fake smile. “Breakfast would be nice. Thank you, Temporary Master Jimmy.”
#real talk idk how good this is#but i finished and i'm proud of myself for that :)#uhhh definitely NOT fluff lol#a little glimpse of apple's time with the salesman#thank you for reading!#apple the whumpee#the salesman whumper#jimmy the caretaker#whump#whump writing#whump oc#whumpmasinjuly#whumpmasinjuly2021#wij21day6#whump community#ptsd trigger#scar tw#bruises tw#food tw#stockholm syndrome tw#crying tw#low self esteem tw#pet whump#referenced past torture#cutting tw#whipping tw#beating tw#caretaker as new master
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7 tips to Improve Memory
Can't find your car keys? Forget your grocery list? Can't remember the name of the personal trainer you liked at the gym? You're not alone. Everyone forgets things occasionally. Still, memory loss is nothing to take lightly.
Although there are no guarantees when it comes to preventing memory loss or dementia, certain activities might help. Consider seven simple ways to sharpen your memory — and know when to seek help for memory loss.
1. Include physical activity in your daily routine
Physical activity increases blood flow to your whole body, including your brain. This might help keep your memory sharp.
For most healthy adults, the Department of Health and Human Services recommends at least 150 minutes a week of moderate aerobic activity, such as brisk walking, or 75 minutes a week of vigorous aerobic activity, such as jogging — preferably spread throughout the week. If you don't have time for a full workout, squeeze in a few 10-minute walks throughout the day.
2. Stay mentally active
Just as physical activity helps keep your body in shape, mentally stimulating activities help keep your brain in shape — and might keep memory loss at bay. Do crossword puzzles. Play bridge. Take alternate routes when driving. Learn to play a musical instrument. Volunteer at a local school or community organization.
3. Socialize regularly
Social interaction helps ward off depression and stress, both of which can contribute to memory loss. Look for opportunities to get together with loved ones, friends and others — especially if you live alone.
4. Get organized
You're more likely to forget things if your home is cluttered and your notes are in disarray. Jot down tasks, appointments and other events in a special notebook, calendar or electronic planner.
You might even repeat each entry out loud as you jot it down to help cement it in your memory. Keep to-do lists current and check off items you've completed. Set aside a place for your wallet, keys, glasses and other essentials.
Limit distractions and don't do too many things at once. If you focus on the information that you're trying to retain, you're more likely to recall it later. It might also help to connect what you're trying to retain to a favorite song or another familiar concept.
5. Sleep well
Sleep plays an important role in helping you consolidate your memories, so you can recall them down the road. Make getting enough sleep a priority. Most adults need seven to nine hours of sleep a day.
6. Eat a healthy diet
A healthy diet might be as good for your brain as it is for your heart. Eat fruits, vegetables and whole grains. Choose low-fat protein sources, such as fish, beans and skinless poultry. What you drink counts, too. Too much alcohol can lead to confusion and memory loss. So can drug use.
7. Manage chronic conditions
Follow your doctor's treatment recommendations for medical conditions, such as depression, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, diabetes, obesity and hearing loss. The better you take care of yourself, the better your memory is likely to be. In addition, review your medications with your doctor regularly. Various medications can affect memory.
When to seek help for memory loss
If you're worried about memory loss — especially if memory loss affects your ability to complete your usual daily activities or if you notice your memory getting worse — talk to your doctor. He or she will likely do a physical exam, as well as check your memory and problem-solving skills.
Sometimes other tests are needed as well. Treatment will depend on what's contributing to your memory loss.
#memory loss#memory problems#memory#mayo clinic#free therapy#mental health#mental illness#mental wellness#mood disorders#anxiety#depression#bpd#bipolar disorder#ocd#ptsd#trauma#you got this#you can do it#you matter#you're enough#you're worthy#keep going
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Murder Park
Deathnottober day 2, murder. L drags A and B to an amusement park but then someone gets murdered so they step in to solve it.
(Story time: So on October 2nd, I was out of town because we were going to an amusement park in Ohio. And I have all these prompts saved on my phone for each day by just the prompt name meaning on that day, I woke up and checked my phone and I had a notification for ‘murder.’ My brother also got that notification because Google calendar dumb. So we all joke about me scheduling a murder with Google calendar and it’s a reoccurring joke all day and then I got the bright idea to have someone be murdered at an amusement park and call it a DN fic. The wrench thing is also relevant because we were talking about wrenches in line at one point and my brother asked my dad if the big wrench in his garage could kill someone. So here we are. Also because I just don’t think we talk about L CANONICALY liking roller coasters enough.)
Alias note: A is using Alan and B is using Belvedere because I don’t think B is capable of just going by like ‘Blake’ like has to be some dramatic ass name.
@deathnotetober
A and B were both extremely pissed off. L was taking a weekend off and had decided to go to an amusement park and wanted A and B to come with him. A and B would’ve declined. However, Watari forced them to go, so now, they stood at the front of the park they didn’t even want to go to.
“Let’s go to the back of the park first to avoid lines.” L said in his monotone voice.
“Sure, whatever.” A grumbled.
B said nothing but instead stared at L menacingly.
They walked through the park, looking around at the decor, which was Halloween-themed as it was fall, much to A and B’s liking as it was their favorite holiday, and seeing the park decked out in skeletons and other spooky things made them a bit happier. They got to a ride in the very back, and L was right, no line. They kept doing that until about mid-day when the lines were sufficiently long no matter where they went. Now they had to stand in line and wait. After they were finished waiting, they sat down for a drink as it was sweltering out, and poor albino A was wearing long sleeves. Plus, they’d been walking or standing for 1 ½ hours with the only times to sit being on rollercoasters where they were constantly tossed around at high speeds.
After their break, they pushed on, being dragged around by L the entire time. Both of them were considering killing him somehow, but that would make A the new L, and he wasn’t ready for that. They ate lunch after a while, which was actually quite enjoyable. Then they rode more rides. At about 6:30, they were in line for the last rollercoaster on their list. The sun was setting, and the air was cooling, much to A’s happiness.
“This time, I get to sit next to A.” B asserted. B’s least favorite part of this was that rollercoasters tend to pair people in groups of 2 or 4, not 3. He was the one who had to sit next to strangers seeing as L always wanted to sit beside A even though A was HIS boyfriend.
“Mhm… yes sure….” L hardly acknowledged B as he was too busy inspecting some of the bolts keeping the ride anchored to the concrete ground.
Once they were on the ride, it was dark, and they got to see the park at night. The lights were lit up, and fog machines covered it in a hazy mist giving it an early look. It was quite the sight. Once they were down, they got to enjoy nighttime on the ground. They walked back to a plaza that contained A’s favorite decorations, a creepy pirate ship. The fog was very thick there, and employees were walking around dressed as zombie pirates scaring people. Three of them all decided that if they were jump scared, they’d either kick the person or cry, so they all walked around the fog cloud.
This proved to be a good idea as when they were walking away; they heard a blood-curdling scream. Which, considering a bunch of people were being jump scared, that shouldn’t be too weird. However, A recognized the screaming voice as an employee, who were quite easy to identify even by voice as they were yelling complete jibberish rather than screaming in fear like the other park goers. A turned his head to the sound just in time to see another employee come out of the fog screaming incoherently. B gripped L’s hand in fear as his acute sense of smell picked up the strong tang of blood in the air.
“L,” B trembled, “I smell blood.”
“I think we’ve witnessed a crime.” L said, trying to sound nonchalant but B sounding slightly afraid and A clinging to his side made it hard for him not to be scared because, after all, A and B were not easily frightened.
L stepped back a bit and pulled A close to him. On the other hand, B had remembered he was a Wammys kid, so this was no time for him, of all people, to be scared. Although, he was just a bit fearful that the killer would come after them next. Though that was not the case as once the chaos died down and someone turned on the fog machine to see what had happened, they saw a gruesome scene in front of them with no killer in sight.
A corpse of a young woman laid there, her head smashed in from the side pouring blood and brain matter onto the pavement. Guests screamed in disgust, and the street devolved into complete chaos until park security came and roped the area off. L, A, and B had watched the entire scene play out and stepped forwards after everyone had calmed down.
“Excuse me,” L said, raising a hand, “We three happen to be detectives. We can handle this.”
The park security was more than suspicious at that claim until L pulled out a fake FBI badge he kept on him for times like these, “We’re FBI. Child prodigies. We’d like to take a look at this crime scene.”
The security members looked at each other for a moment, then decided to take L’s word and let them inspect the body. B knelt next to the corpse and examined the wound, putting his forensics and CSI training to good use. L and A stood by waiting for an opinion from B, considering he was one of the few kids who specialized in forensic pathology rather than actual deductive work.
“Alan, what do you think?” L asked with his thumb placed on his lip.
A raised an eyebrow at his alias being used but answered non the less, “I think we need to question the employees and people she was here with, but more importantly, not let anyone leave the park.”
“And why do you say that?” L prodded some more. He already knew why A’d make that call; he just wanted to make sure A knew why he made that call.
“Checking with the employees is obvious along with interviewing the people she was herewith. Making sure no one leaves the park is so we don’t lose any suspects. I’m mostly interested in keeping the employees here, though.” A said coldly.
“Oh,” L turned his head to A, “And why employees?”
“It’s just- a shot in the dark… is all….” A trailed off. A had an issue with making claims with no basis and wild leaps of faith during investigations. He knew L didn’t operate like that, but it was just in his nature to do it.
“Well, Alan is right.” B interrupted as he stood up, “This wound was made by a hard, slim object hitting the skull with tremendous force. My suggestion would be a wrench and a large one at that.”
“Right… And no one brings wrenches to an amusement park unless they need to work on something, which points to an employee who works in Maintenence or, at the very least, has access to a tool room.” A said, looking back to L for approval.
“Yes, that’s what I’d say s the most likely conclusion.” L said calmly.
A smiled, knowing L thought his deduction was correct, “So then we should question the employees here?” A asked.
“Yes, you work on that while I speak to her part members. Belvedere, you keep looking at the corpse.” L said, referring to B using his alias as well.
B was a little angry he was being demoted to corpse inspection, but he was fine with that. He enjoyed the dead bodies. A took a deep breath and approached the employees who were dressed up at the time and spoke to them all, trying to get as much information out of them as possible. Likewise, L spoke to the girl’s party. Afterward, the two met up again to discuss.
“So, what did you get?” A asked.
“She was a college student from out of town here with her boyfriend, who is also not from this area. She had no contacts here, so there’s n reason anyone in the area should have a grudge against her. And you?” L responded, immediately assuming A was looking for connections, which he was.
“The employees say everyone who works in this part of the park has access to at least one tool room, so no one is ruled out except for the few who were out in costume as they wouldn’t have had time to retrieve a wrench while working here. It is to be noted, however, that the employee who screamed when the corpse was discovered had a reputation among the others as a bit of a promiscuous lady, so plenty of other employees had a reason to hate her, considering the relationship drama. That, combined with what you said, makes me believe that an upset coworker killed our victim accidentally while the real target was the employee who first discovered the body.” A said proudly.
“Impressive….” L mumbled, “Now we just need to find who did it from our list of suspects.”
“Right, I think we should figure out what size wrench killed her. Considering not everyone has access to every tool room, and each one contains different tools for each ride.” A turned to B, “Any idea as to what size wrench we’re dealing with, Belvedere?”
“Judging from my measurements, it should be a… 4? I would fit what I believe is roughly a 3 inch bolt. That’s what Google told me.” B shrugged.
A and L scowed at him.
“I’m GAY. I don’t know anything about tools!” B yelled.
The two of them rolled their eyes, “Well, what ride would use that size?” A asked.
“The ride we were just on, of course. The paint was chipped around the bolts at the bottom of the ride in a way that resembled the marks left by a wrench. This is unlike the other bolts on other rides, which are painted over perfectly, meaning only that one was receiving constant maintenance. Conveniently, those bolts were 3 inches in diameter.” L stated his own deduction this time without having A explain his thoughts—this time, A mentally kicked himself for not noticing that minor detail. He shouldn’t have, but he didn’t while L did. Just another way, L was still much better than him.
“Ah, perfect!” A turned to the employees, “Are there any people who work on that ride,” A pointed to it as he did not know its name, “Who would have a grudge against our intended victim?”
“Well, Steve would. He’s kind of a creep. If it were anyone, it’d be him.” one of them said.
A turned back at L and smiled. L nodded his head in approval. They had a suspect, just in time too, the cops had arrived, and the three reported their findings before leaving. The park had to be closed early, but it was starting to rain, so they didn’t want to stick around. L bought the two of them some things from the shops, and they all went back to their hotel.
“So A, noticed you were pretty scared there.” B teased.
“Shut up, so were you.” A replied.
“You both had a good reason to be. I’ll admit even I was startled by such an event.” L said.
“Whatever… I was scared. But I had you two, so I’m fine.” A rolled over, trying to hide his blush.
“Aw, you trust us to protect you? That’s adorable. I’m touched.” B placed a hand on his heart.
L sat down next to the two of them on the bed, “B, you were trembling, so really I was the one protecting you two.” “Yes, it’s a miracle we all made it.” B rolled his eyes.
“You’re very ungrateful. I saved your life back there, you know.” L was joking, but it seemed hard to tell with his monotone. Though A and B could tell, seeing as they were used to it.
A hugged L, “Well, I’m grateful.” he said before kissing L on the cheek and then laying down, “Good night. I’m tired.”
L touched his cheek as his face went a bit pink, “Good night, A….”
“I’m also tired.” B said before crawling under his blanket, “Good night, L.”
“Good night, Beyond.” L moved to get off their bed, but A stopped him.
“L,” A asked, “Could you sleep in our bed? To protect us?” A said in a half-joking manner.
L understood what A meant, though, and climbed in between the two. A curled up against him immediately. B took a minute before deciding he also wanted to cuddle and nuzzled into L’s back.
In the morning, L was watching the morning news before A and B woke up. The story of the amusement park murder came on, and he learned that Steve had been arrested where he confessed to the murder. A was right in his deduction, aside from the small part where L had figured out the ride staff to look at. However, that was a very small detail, though he hoped A didn’t beat himself up over it. Either way, they both did a fine job solving it. L turned off the tv and laid back down between his two succors, deciding to get some more time in with them before he had to leave them again.
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