#and yes that was everyones first thought upon seeing the video

[cakejerry]

https://x.com/jeonjkloops/status/1726565546194563518?s=46&t=XuCx8v8aEyRQWy2cALbK1Q

If jk looks like this when jimin is riding him in ur fic you still have time to delete

That's what he looks like when Jimin rides him IRL i fear.......

[birdantlers]

A heartfelt and grievously expanded-upon update to this—please, please read the whole thing if you can. reblogs much appreciated.

(DISCLAIMER, for all who are saying reasons like abusive parents/legal stuff/toxic ex/triggering memories/page got deleted/job/stalkers/bullying/[[insert any other shitty life thing]], This is not concerning that—personal safety & health ALWAYS comes first, and is worth more than any media ever could be. This is my biggest reason for defending that autonomy. I would be a hypocrite to say I hadn’t deleted triggering posts of mine or ones that got me in trouble with my family.)

it genuinely makes me sad and kinda upset when someone purges all their old art off the internet like. barring harmful content what if someone liked that. What if someone would have. And now nobody will ever know and it's just gone. even people's old invader zim askblogs or whatever getting deleted feels like a micro alexandria to me and that's just something I made up. I wasn't even thinking of a specific one it just stresses me out. Is this the autism I don't get why nobody else seems to freak internally abt it like I do. I see artists whose blogs I've never even looked at go like "man so glad I deleted all my old stuff it's so clean" or saying they throw out art from when they were kids I'm like. how are you not hurling. How is that not distressing that is literally your tree rings why would you do that. I want to see what's out there. people want to see it I promise someone out there likes it

...don't they??? Does everyone get quietly irrationally upset by this as me, or is this just hyperfixation/autism/some amalgam of the two. I'm not a hoarder or obsessive compulsive or anything like that so i wonder..

Anyways. reblog if you had a favorite amateur youtube animator in your childhood whose channel got nuked without a trace one day that you still think about.

I wanted to attach this video because it condenses my point very well. A TLDR of sorts. Please watch the whole thing, it genuinely changed the entire way I think about art as a concept.

(2nd vid is "Subjectivity in Art")

“The moment your art touches an audience, the ownership shifts in an irreversible way. [They're] not having an art experience with you and your intentions. They're having an art experience with the art object.

“You can't just burn your past; it's not even your past to burn anymore. It's other people's history as well. Whether or not you like it, that art is already bonded to somebody's soul, and if you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it.”

The digital age makes it very easy to distance or detach yourself from the impact your work has—be it art, fanfic, videos, even memes. Online content is as important to people now as any other media, if not more. But it's also by far the easiest, fastest, and most effective form of it to erase from public access. Media so unbelievably important to people and in general. Yes, you—with the 2010s purple sparkle dog speedpaint. I still think about that speedpaint all the time, because it was the first time i learned that you could draw on a computer, and I thought it was cool as hell. I still do.

I do wish there was a stronger culture of preservation and consideration for this, because every time I see people talk about snuffing their stuff because it doesn't personally resonate with them anymore, I just think ...what about all the people it did?

I've seen lots of people saying "get over it, it doesn't even matter," but it fucking does. It does matter. Even if I didn’t make it, even if I don’t have to deal with being the one who made it, even if I'm naturally inclined to be distressed by it—It still matters. And there’s nothing you could ever say to suddenly make it not matter, because there’s nothing you could ever say to make it not matter to me.

Don't devalue the act of creation. Don't dismiss something you made. It's out there, in people's thoughts and hearts and souls, and that is real. Even if you don't know it. Especially if you don't know it. Especially in a world where physical media is being snuffed out, the internet is constantly dying without any physical remains to recover, social isolation is rampant, and simply because independently produced content online is still media.

Fanfiction can hold equal or greater significance to someone as a book, but you can’t unpublish a book. Authors don’t have a button that can vaporize every copy of their work across all time, but fanfiction authors do. I’m not counting people who download fics either—when you buy a book, that transaction is over. But online, you have the power of unending transaction that can be terminated instantly at your will. The process of publishing fanfic vs. publishing a book may be different, but people’s connection to the art is the same intensity.

So yeah. I do get depressed about the Internet being a constant Alexandria, but the times I get the most depressed is when I click someone's page and see that all their work is gone because they're ‘curating a new aesthetic’ for their page or some shit. Or weeding out all the "ugly" art. Or just went on whatever the hell 'thrill deleting' is, because they just get a kick out of it.

Fuck it—yeah! It upsets me! I’m not wrong to say that. I’m saying it!

Under the cut, because it got long as shit! Also don’t worry the ending is way sappier and more ‘beauty of human nature’ vibe so it’s not all doom and gloom lol

What if that was someone's favorite art of that character. What if someone read that 'cringe oneshot' on the worst day of their life. What if that Warriors meme vid is still burned into a college student’s mind despite being gone for 10 years. What if it's actually not just you and the ones and zeros you rent out to the world—secure in knowing the original will always be on your computer for you to do whatever you want with it.

I really, deeply wish there was more of a general awareness of this, because even though social media can be used like a diary, that’s functionally the opposite of what it is. It’s social media. When you post, it’s no longer in a vacuum, even though you can’t see the real humans that content touches—often deeply.

Media is history. You shouldn’t burn that history just because you personally believe it isn’t worth saving.

Because it’s no longer just your personal opinion. It’s no longer just your personal work. it’s. history. Memory of media is not a suitable replacement for the media itself. If it was, we wouldn’t save anything at all. Nostalgia is an agent of that. The definition of nostalgia is grief for moments of the past that are inaccessible, and the biggest balm for that pain is accessing a physical reminder of those moments. That opinion of yours is no longer personal. It’s weighed against uncountable people across all time that your thing is ALSO personal to. People who would, and will mourn its absence.

How many times have you joined an older fandom only to discover that some of its most popular works are gone? How many times have you routed through random blogs looking for scraps people hopefully reblogged? how many times have you used Wayback machine desperately praying that a fan fiction or a YouTube video will be there? How many times do you look up crunchy old vines or YouTube videos or anime AMV‘s? How many times do you remember old fanfic.net sex that impacted you in middle school, only to shake your head and go ‘probably no point even looking.’

i mourn the absence. No, people can’t and shouldn’t have their agency over what they post revoked, but they should be conscious of that weight. If you’re reading this and getting extremely annoyed, and you’re not in the pink text above,,,, good.

I honestly do hope it gets under your skin. I hope it sits with you. I hope you feel it every time you hit that button, and whether or not you do hit that button—if you hesitate, if you remember this, even spitefully, I’ve done my job. I am howling into the void. And I may not want an answer, but I do want my anguish to be heard and remembered. Because it isn’t me just being melodramatic.

I know I sound that way writing so much, but if my favorite writing YouTuber can drop trow this week and go, "yeah, sorry, all my video essays from less than a year ago that you listen to in the car all the time? I'm "rebranding" my content so i deleted them. besides, my personal views don't really agree align with the analyses i did, or the techniques i taught in them anyway. Sorry if some of the literal tens of thousands of you used them, but I don't want to feel shackled to having youtuber "classics" tied to me”

….then i guess I'm just going to have to sound dramatic! That fucking sucks! Hours of work and knowledge gone! This was a new channel too. It’s very likely there’s no archive of any kind, because who would think someone who worked hard enough to write, record, and edit hour-long videos, would just turn around and nuke it all? I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I did just start a new screenwriting class a few weeks ago, so I’ll tell you at least one person is REALLY missing those fucking videos right now. Because a lot of them were about specifically screenwriting, which I know jack shit about. and that specific person’s pace, editing, and style of breaking down information was the best suited style I found that I could focus on and absorb. There’s no replacement for that. No alternative for his individual perspective. his jokes. his opinions.

No, they may not resonate with him now, but in this decision, he’s put up a big middle finger to everyone who might have. And he has like 100k subscribers! Those are confirmed supporters! Imagine how many silent and untethered observers are feeling this loss right now. Imagine how many will not have it in the future.

If he never posted them at all, we wouldn’t know we had it. It wouldn’t be a loss. But we did. We did have it. Until he decided that no, we didn’t, because he just happens to be the one out of millions of individuals holding the button to burn it in a hundredth of a second.

His personal work, the attachment I had to it, and the ways that it helped me are now just ripped away. I am one person out of millions, literal MILLIONS of people who saw and liked this content before it vanished. The soul has been ripped, the access severed, and by CJ’s (and my) definition, the art is functionally dead. Not for the YouTuber or anyone else lucky enough to save a link or download, but everyone else. From this point until the end of time, even if people even two weeks from now don’t know it. Even if someone who stumbles upon his channel today, doesn’t know it.

We only mourn the concept of Alexandria because we had some kind of scope for what was inside. Yes, maybe you got self-conscious and deleted your 12 year old deviant art account. Do you know who else is doing that?? THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of other twenty somethings who ALSO feel self-conscious about their old socials. Art. Fanfic. One direction fan videos. anything.

Suddenly, an unquantifiable amount of information from your age group—an entire age group in 2012, is. gone. And we will NEVER know what’s been erased from that history. We will NEVER know what could have been significant to us ten years from now. Twenty years from now. A hundred years. A thousand.

You could have deleted a fanfic that would have been someone else’s new go-to panic attack distraction tomorrow. You could have deleted a video someone used to laugh at with their friend who died yesterday. When you delete something, you risk tearing a hole in unknowable personal histories.

The Internet isn’t just a big library of Alexandria. It’s a library containing libraries. And those libraries have their own libraries in those libraries have their own as well. libraries inside libraries, inside libraries, ad infinitum. To conceive the amount of destroyed history on the Internet is crushing.

And I just can’t help but I ask myself how in gods name people can choose to contribute to that, instead of reposting everything to trash heap alts titled “hall of shame” or some shit.

You can offload to alts. Put up disclaimers. Make password locked blogs, or dropboxes, or anonymous imgur dumps. Anonymous reuploads. Orphan fics. Make a playlist or linktree of unlisted videos. Cut off the watermarks. Delete all references to it on your main. Make a dedicated unlisted playlist. make a google drive. Make new portfolio sites. Delete any questions you get about it. Change pen names. Pretend it never existed.

Give a heads up.

Something.

But don’t. kill. the media.

The knowledge that our stuff is going to forever be tied to us is a cross we have to bear, but the responsibility that comes with putting it out there in the first place, can’t be ignored.

Anyway. I'm not trying to start conflict. This is not a bash on anyone, nor a call for witch hunts. Or anon hate, or blocks and unfollows or anything of that nature. I'm not wishing ramifications or hate of any kind on anyone who does wants to do any of this.

I'm also not guilt tripping— I am not saying that you should feel bad. I AM saying why it makes me feel bad. That’s not guilting, it’s a dialogue. One I personally feel is long overdue.

It's me yelling into the void: please consider the real people on the other side of the screen before you hit that button. Realize and know that whatever you're about to erase from history could be the most important thing in the world to someone.

Art is an experience. It's why we revisit it. If art and history simply lived in the matter and code of media, we would only need to look at it once. We wouldn’t put things in museums. We wouldn’t build libraries. We wouldn’t look up vine compilations.

If you're able, consider (and I do mean consider, this is not a call to action) not destroying that. And don’t shrug it off as some pretentious asshole venting on Tumblr. You only need to look in the notes and tags to see that it isn’t just me. it’s never just me, or you, or the pixels.

And even if you do shrug it off, then at least recognize that what you make matters. Whatever you think about it, if it’s out there, that's not your discretion anymore. If a tree falls in the woods and even one person is around to see it, it fucking mattered. Because it happened. Don’t mulch your tree rings if you don’t have to. Because if enough people do it, a whole forest is gone. Media is history, no matter whether you think it’s worth putting in a museum, or only has 30 notes.

Thousands of years ago, a child named onfim doodled on his homework. They’re crude, and everyone has the wrong amount of fingers, and they’re also priceless archaeological artifacts recognizable throughout the world.

the only thing separating Onfim’s doodles and your MS paint Pokémon doodles is time. The only thing separating your old MS paint Pokémon doodles from being a priceless artifacts, thousands of years in the future is time. Your creations are already priceless artifacts. No matter what you do, don't ever, ever deny that. It isn’t blowing up your own ass, it’s artistic and anthropological fact.

The mundane and the supposedly unworthy are often the first things lost to time, and that’s why they’re so precious. That’s why artists who were before their time are scorned first only to be celebrated later. Do you think they knew that was going to happen?? What if they nuked it? Many probably did! But now that’s happening exponentially and instantaneously everywhere, WITHOUT the artist having to destroy their only copy—which makes it way easier and more dismissable.

Sometimes, If you’re revolutionary enough, people will make an effort to preserve your work, but recognized and thoroughly recorded work is rare compared to unrecognized and thoroughly recorded work.

Sometimes something is beloved enough that it would be impossible for it not to go down in history, but even then it isnt a guarantee, and it’s rare. But if van Gogh burned all of his paintings in a fit of despair before his death, we would have no van Gogh. Because he wasn’t respected as an artist in his time, but that wasn’t what defined the worth of his art. The people after him did, because his art was still there for them.

If you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it. If you belittle your art, you belittle the very real relationships and emotions and revisitations people have with the media. You defy the inherent worth and weight of a creation. you created. That's effort. It's passion. No matter how flippant or unskilled or worthless you think it is, it matters. Because at the end of the day, you could have chosen to make nothing at all, and you didn't.

•

Muting notifs

[sturnsdarling]

'Chris likes girls who don't like him back'

Late night streaming with your best friends turns to a conversation about the boys' type, and Chris gets called out

vibe check: flirty fluffy fun, 3/4 of my favourite f words

1.4k words

A/N: i had this idea literally straight away after what Matt said about Chris' type.........the idea of being Chris' best friend that he openly fancies but you're 'not interested' makes MY TOES CURL BRO LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING anyway I hope you love this.

love and cigs, merc

"Matt he's right there what the fuck are you doing?!" you scream down the mic, nearly throwing your controller across the room as you jolt back in your chair.

You watch as Matt gets sniped in the head from the back, laughing as he wails on this desk, making the whole stream glitch and nearly crash. Chris is laughing along with you, trying not to make it obvious that he's watching you, and not Matt.

"Matt, bro you need to fuckin' up your game, y/n/n is actually carrying us right now." Chris says as Matt picks his chair up off the floor and sits back down in a huff.

"I always carry when I come on with you boys" you smirk, looking at the tiny square of Chris on your screen.

"yeah because you're a little sweat" Matt chuckles.

The boys had been streaming everyday for over a week now and, after some convincing, they managed to get you to join in on one of their games. At first you were apprehensive, obviously, but they explained that they were trying to diversify their platform and find a more mature audience so, actually interacting with girls on the internet was their first step.

You and the boys had been friends for forever, you met them through Nick in elementary school and had basically all been inseparable ever since, you'd been in some earlier videos but the fans back then made it very difficult to just exist around them so, you took it upon yourself to only exist in their real life, not their online one.

Cut to right now, you're nearly two hours deep in fortnite trios with the boys on stream, everyone was super excited to see you when they announced that they'd be joining and, other than a couple comments that you all ignored, it was going really well.

"Matt, someone asked what our types are" Chris laughed, reading the chat.

"I'm not answering that" Matt dead panned, screwing his face up at the camera

"I can answer it for you both, for sure" you chuckle, "chat do you want me to answer it?"

"yes, yes, yes, yes, omg yes" Chris was reeling off the answers in chat, "everyone wants y/n/n to answer, Matt should we let her?" Chris asked.

Matt rolled his eyes with a smile, "g'head, y/n/n, expose us" He chuckled.

"okay, so" you said, in your best girly gossip voice, "Matt likes nerdy, reader, soft girls" you begin to explain, your train of thought is interrupted by Chris erupting into laughter.

"dude she's so right! you love a girl that looks like she's always buried in a book" Chris wails.

"what are you guys even saying?" Matt complains, the smile etched across his face giving his tone a lot less power.

"you definitely want a girl who will go on a hike with you or some shit, Matt" You say, enjoying this whole interaction a bit too much.

Chris was keeled over in laughter, loving finally being able to talk about this kind of stuff on the internet without everyone going insane.

"I dunno why you're laughing so much, Chris, you're next" Matt states, Chris shrugs in reply.

"i don't give a fuck, call me out y/n/n, gimme the best you got" Chris sits back in his chair, arms folded over his chest.

"hmmmm" you say, exaggerating your thinking, "what is the famous Christopher Sturniolos type" you rub your chin, pretending to be thinking deeply.

A knowing smirk is spread wide across Chris' face as he stares at your face on his screen, tongue prodding the side of his cheek.

"I know Chris' type" Matt adds, a menacing smile on his face.

"g'head matt, you take this one" you gesture to the boy on your screen.

"Chris likes girls who don't like him back" Matts brows raise in accusation towards Chris.

You try and hide the smile forming on your face, attempting to look as focused on the game as possible as your tongue prods at your teeth. Neither of the boys say anything, both of them cheesing, Matt in a teasing and knowing kind of way and Chris more so in a 'I cant say what I wanna say' kind of way.

"damn, Matt, you just called me the fuck out" Chris shakes his head, looking to the tiny version of you on his screen.

You're still quiet, trying to fight the smile on your face and look as focused as possible, you catch Chris looking as if he's looking at you on his screen and shake your head with a chuckle.

"what you grinnin' at, kid?" Chris smirks.

You raise your brows, shaking your head with a downwards smile, "no, nothin', nothin" you say, returning your focus back to the game.

All of the viewers watched the interaction and were blowing up the chat with comments about how Chris definitely likes you, saying things like 'did you guys see that?!', and 'think they're slick look at how they're both smiling!!!!!'. Chris was reading the comments and trying to hide the red blush crawling its way onto his cheeks, Matt was relishing in the fact that Chris was so obviously nervous, and you were just trying not to react.

"Chris, dude, you better wipe that smile off your face, chat's onto you" Matt pokes the bear.

"chat ain't onto shit, Matt, shut the fuck up" Chris says, trying to be serious but unable to push his smile down.

"you know i'm right though, you do like girls who don't want you" Matt pushed on with his joke.

"Matt, shut your fuckin' mouth, dude" Chris rolled his eyes and shook his head, his smile still prevalent.

You couldn't help but laugh, still pretending to not care about the situation unfolding. In hindsight, it probably made it all the more obvious that you knew exactly what Matt was referring to.

"you're awful quiet, y/n/n, you got nothing to say on Chris' type?" Matt extends his joke over to you and your attention is immediately on him.

"nah, you hit the nail on the head, I think" you shrug, stretching back in your chair and adjusting your headset.

"oh really?" Chris replies, brows raised in accusation.

"mhm" you nod, faux innocently.

Chris kisses his teeth, nodding and trying to hide the smile on his face once again.

"yeah, chat, Matts right, I like pretty girls, who don't like me back" Chris says, subtly turning his attention to you and then back to chat.

You roll your eyes with a smile, leaning forward once more to lock into the game.

"you're ridiculous, Chris" Matt chuckles into the mic, watching you shift in your seat, trying not to blush.

The rest of the game went off without a hitch, you guys went on to win multiple times and all the viewers eventually stopped trying to get the conversation back to Chris' obvious crush on you. You played until the early hours of the morning, joking and laughing with the boys' just like old times and relishing in the fact that you were finally able to be a part of their online presence again. When it hit around three a.m you told them you had to sign off, explaining that you had to be up early for college that morning.

"guys, I gotta go, but I'll text you when I wake up" you said, pulling off your headset, and brushing your hair back with your hand.

"alright, y/n/n, thanks for helping us bury kids, its always a treat" Matt grinned at you, shooting you his token boyish smile.

"you know I live to humble kids on fort, Matt" You shrugged, putting on your best boyish persona, earning a laugh from Matt

"okay seriously, I gotta go, bye chat!" you smile, "bye boys" you go to switch off your computer but you're stopped by Chris booming voice.

"bye, beautiful" he says, a cheesy grin on his face.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as an uncontrollable smile finds your lips, "bye, Chris" you reply, switching off your computer.

The whole chat erupts with people losing their minds over Chris calling you beautiful, the boys say nothing, Matt just shakes his head, laughing at the chat as he watches Chris, grinning with pride and completely unashamed of his very obvious crush on you.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10

[wandaslittlebird]

That’s What Mama’s Do

Stepmom!Wanda x Reader

An early Christmas gift from Wanda encourages you to indulge your curiosities, and Wanda learns she can be a bit rougher with you than she originally thought.

CW: Stepmother/Stepdaughter, guilt, sexual exploration, flashbacks, anal (R receiving), spitting, strap ons (R receiving), spanking, inexperienced reader, mentions of videos taken during sex, dirty talk

Word Count: ~4.7k

A/N: It’s back and I’m so excited! I’ve extended this series to be at least 6 parts now, so get pumped everyone. I just kept having more and more ideas.

A/N: So definitely not 48 hours but like kinda close?? I was struggling with this part and I still think it might have worked better as a drabble, but I think it works anyway. This part isn’t nearly as Freudian, but there’s more of that to come in future parts! I hope you all still enjoy!

Thank you @marvelwomenarehot0 for reading this like 5 times and reassuring me I’m FINE

Part 3 of Her Special Girl

The days were filled with peppermint hot chocolate, soft blankets, Christmas movies by the fireplace, and lots and lots of cuddles. You and Wanda were practically velcroed to one another, completely inseparable. The two of you preferred to stay mostly at the house together, seeing as you couldn’t be nearly as affectionate when there were other people around in public.

What had started as an unpleasant fluke in your Christmas break, had turned out to be the best Christmas present you could ever ask for.

One this particular afternoon, you and Wanda were dancing together to Christmas music in the living room. She had you pulled close to her chest, gently swaying you back and forth to the jovial holiday music. But louder than both the music and her heartbeat, one thought came blaring through your mind.

How could you ever leave this? How could you leave her, alone? How could you ever be so selfish?

You leaned back so you could see her face. “Mama?” You interjected. Your eyes searched her’s, looking for a way to ease the guilt in your heart.

“Yes, little love?” She smiled down at you with a heart full of love and admiration. If she was holding resentment against you for leaving, she was doing a very good job of hiding it.

You swallowed nervously. “Could I give you one of your Christmas presents?” You asked. You hoped experiencing her joy upon receiving your gift would quell the aching guilt. “I have more to give you on Christmas. I just wanted to give you a special one while it’s still just the two of us.”

Her smile widened. “Of course, sweet girl. How about we do a special little gift exchange with just us. You know how hectic it gets on Christmas Day.” She bent forward and whispered into your ear. “Plus, I have a present for you that no one else is allowed to see.”

Your heartbeat quickened. She chuckled as she watched a blush rise to your cheeks. She smirked, drawing a medium sized box out from behind the tree. You followed suit, picking out a small box placed carefully on top of the pile of presents. You’d taken extra special care to wrap it nicely for her. You’d been excited about giving her this gift for a while now.

“You first,” you insisted, setting her gift down on the couch after she handed it to you.

You handed her the box, chewing your lip nervously. She unwrapped it meticulously, slowly pulling away the tape without ripping the paper.

Inside was a rectangular jewelry box, off white with a golden W.M. pressed into the center. She opened the lid and gasped as she revealed a gold chain necklace with three stones pressed into the center. The biggest one, in the middle was your birthstone, and on either size shone two aquamarines, the twins’ birthstone.

“Honey this is beautiful,” she said, pulling the necklace from the box. “But this must’ve cost you a fortune.”

You shook your head. “Not a fortune. I promise it wasn’t exorbitant. The gold was a gift from dad from a couple years ago, but…”

“You only wear silver,” Wanda finished for you. She chuckled at the general cluelessness of her husband, thinking he could just buy the most expensive thing on the shelf and you’d love it.

You nodded, smiling a little at the thought that Wanda remembered such a detail. You gently took the necklace from Wanda’s hands, clipping it around the back of her neck while she held up her hair.

“It’s perfect, darling,” she said, putting her hand affectionately over the stones. “Thank you, so much.” It sat perfectly on her neck, level with her collarbones. It looked beautiful on her.

You picked up your own present from where you’d set it on the couch. It was a bigger box than the one you’d given her, but it was light. You didn’t take the same care as she did with the wrapping paper, simply picking a corner and tearing off the paper. You unwrapped and opened the box to reveal a harness. It was very similar to the one you already had, except, instead of one O-ring at the base, there were two.

You tilted your head in confusion, examining the object. Wanda watched you nervously, slightly afraid the gift was unwanted.

She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Do you know what it is?”

“It’s a harness,” you answered. “But it has two rings for two…” the realization dawned on you as you spoke the words allowed. You stood in shock for a moment.

Wanda’s heart sank, thinking she’d gone too far. “It… it’s okay if you don’t wanna use it. There’s no pressure to try anything, of course. I just thought… you used to really enjoy…” she rambled.

You cut her off, still too caught up in your own thoughts to be paying attention to her nervous rambling. “Can we use it now?” You blurted out, excitedly.

She smiled. “Of course, little love. I thought you might like it. I remember you being rather fond of… playing like this.”

—————

You were standing in the doorframe of her home office, anxiously playing with your own fingers.

Wanda had been furiously typing away at her desk. The sound of keys clacking filled the silent room. Her face was focused, emotionlessly concentrated on the task in front of her.

You stood there awkwardly, trying to build up the courage to ask her your question. You certainly didn’t want to interrupt. You didn’t even like to interrupt her work when you weren’t about to ask embarrassing questions.

She was never upset with you, for interrupting her work. “Nothing that comes across my desk is more important to me than even your silliest queries,” she had told you. “Anytime I get to be talking to you, my work day has improved tenfold.”

Still, you stood in the doorway a little longer, hoping she would manage to notice you first.

After a few grueling minutes of going unnoticed, you finally decided to speak up.

“Mama?” You asked quietly.

Her face of pure concentration broke out into a wide smile. “Yes, my little love?” She responded, beckoning you into the room.

You exhaled in relief. She wasn’t upset with you for interrupting, at least. Now it was just a matter of trying to ask the question that brought you here in the first place. “I-I have a question,” you announced anxiously, cautiously approaching her desk.

“Ask away,” she instructed, leaning back in her car and swiveling it to face you. You had her full attention.

You looked down at the hardwood floor, unable to meet her gaze. Maybe this would actually be easier if she was still focused on work and you were simply in the background. “I… it’s embarrassing.”

Her face tilted, morphing into one of soft sympathy. “It’s okay, sweetheart. There’s no need to be embarrassed. It’s just you and mama here. You can tell me anything.” She reached her arms out, beckoning you closer so she could gently pull you into her lap. She sat you down and wrapped her arms around your waist, kissing you on the temple.

If she were anyone else, you wouldn't dream of asking her what you were about to ask. You lived in a world where questions, especially ones that may be considered taboo, were discouraged. Your curiosities had always been diminished and shut down, even since you were a child. And yet, Wanda was different. “You’re still growing up and learning about the world,” she’d once said. “It’s an honor to get to teach you about all the things you want to know. That’s what mama’s do, after all.”

You steeled yourself. “I… um… do you know how sometimes when we… play together you put toys inside of me and it feels really good?” You asked, trying to frame your question.

“Mhm,” she hummed affirmatively, trying to hide her growing excitement. She loved how flustered and embarrassed you got when you asked her questions about sex. It was almost as arousing as the “hands on” learning experiences themselves.

“I was wondering if… maybe you’d ever had toys in… the other hole,” you asked, looking down at your lap.

“Mmm,” she hummed again. She almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Were you really asking her what she thought you were asking her? God, you were more perfect that’s she could’ve imagined.

She kept calm, trying to contain her excitement. “I have. Mama doesn’t like to have things in her ass so much, but,” Her tone dropped lower and more sultry. She leaned over so close you could feel her breath on your ear. “I would love nothing more than if you’d let me play with yours.”

“R-really?” You stuttered. “You don’t think it’s… gross?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “No, sweetheart,” she assured. “It’s just another part of your body, little love. I don’t think any part of you is gross.”

“O-okay,” you said, leaning your head on her shoulder.

She pulled you tighter into her side, squeezing you in her arms and kissing your head repeatedly. “I love you so much,” she praised. “I’m so proud of you for being such a brave girl, and asking mama all your curious little questions about your body.”

“I love you too, mama,” you responded. You curled up in her lap, burying your red face in her neck.

“How about I forward all my calls to Natasha for this afternoon, and mama can show you all her toys and we can pick out some for you to experiment with, huh?” She whispered into your ear, voiced laced with excitement and seduction.

Your eyes went wide, and you nodded. It wasn’t the first time Wanda had dropped everything to fuck you, but you were shocked that seemed to be equally as excited about this as you were.

She led you to her closet, letting you peruse her collection. For someone who didn’t like to use them, she had a lot of butt plugs. She explained in depth their uses, the sensations of the different shapes and materials, and helped you make an educated choice of which one you’d like best. In the end, you both decided to start with a small metal plug, as well as a smallish strap. When you asked if she’d be pegging you with it, she chuckled.

“I don’t think you’re ready for that quite yet, little love,” she explained. “We’ll just use the strap like normal, but you’ll have the plug in this time. Does that sound good?”

You nodded. You were a little confused as to why she chose such a small strap if it wasn’t going in your ass anyway, but you trusted her judgment.

“One more thing,” she said, grabbing your favorite toy, the wand, before turning off the lights and leaving the closet. As always she took you to your own room rather than leading you back to her own. You both preferred to keep the sex out of the bed that her and your father shared.

She had you lean over the edge of your bed while she plugged the wand into the outlet. She handed it to you. “Alright love, I want you to make yourself feel good, okay? Can you do that for mama? Can you touch yourself while mama plays with your ass?”

“Mhm,” you hummed affirmatively, taking the wand between your legs and turning it on. You immediately shivered at the sensation.

She ran her nails softly up your back. “That’s it, good girl. Now just relax for mama.”

Her fingers moved down to circle your exposed asshole, watching the muscle tense in anticipation. You jumped at the unprecedented feeling.

“Shshsh,” she cooed. “Relax baby. You’re okay. Mama’s gonna take care of you. I’m just going to put a little lube on you, okay? It’s gonna be a little cold.”

You shivered again as you felt the cool liquid run down your untouched ass. She pressed her finger against your hole, gathering the liquid there before slowly starting to push into you. To her surprise, her first finger slid in rather easily.

You groaned at the sensation, muffled by the mattress. “Are you sure you’ve never had anything in here?” Wanda asked, suspicious but not judgmental. “It’s okay if you have, baby. You can tell mama. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

You whined into the mattress. “I-I… in the shower sometimes, I… explore a little bit.”

Wanda smiled, chuckling affectionately as she rubbed your back, slowly moving her finger in and out of your tight hole. “That’s okay, honey. You’re always allowed to explore your own body. Do you just play with your fingers? How many have you had?”

You nodded. “Just my fingers. And only ever one. I-I tried to do two, but… I couldn’t.”

She nodded, circling her finger around inside of you to get you comfortable. “Mama’s gonna try to add another finger now. Is that okay?”

You nodded. “Is… is it gonna hurt?”

She shook her head. “No baby, it shouldn’t hurt. If it hurts just tell mama and we’ll stop, okay?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“Good girl. Now, just try your best to relax. Take a few deep breaths.” You felt a second finger at your entrance, slowly pushing past your muscles. You squirmed, at the uncomfortable sensation, but Wanda’s hand on your lower back kept you still.

“Good girl,” she praised as her two fingers fully pushed into you. “That’s a big stretch isn’t it?”

You whined. It didn’t hurt, per se, but there was an intense, unfamiliar pressure. You turned up the setting on the vibrator between your legs, keeping the discomfort at bay.

She spread her fingers out inside of you, stretching the muscles further. You moaned, the discomfort morphing into something more pleasant. The pleasure, oddly, didn’t override the discomfort, but rather existed beside it. “Mama…” you moaned, starting to slowly buck your hips back into her hand. “Feels… funny.”

“I bet it does feel funny, doesn’t it?” She said. “Do you like it? You wanna switch over to mama’s plug?” Typically, she would’ve insisted on taking things a bit slower, but, likely due to your own ‘self-exploration’, you were handling it a lot better than she’d expected.

You nodded. “Yes please.”

She slowly pulled her fingers out, watching your muscles tighten back up and close. She fantasized, for a moment, about opening you back up so she could spit inside of you, watching your muscles close as little bits of her saliva leaked out. But she’d save that thought for later. You were far from ready for that.

She took the metal plug and poured a bit more lube onto the end. The plug was a bit bigger than both of her fingers, but not terribly so. She pushed the cool metal against your asshole.

You jumped and whined at the sensation. She shushed you, putting a firm hand on your lower back to keep you in place. “Just relax honey, just like before. Keep playing with yourself.”

You did as instructed, taking a deep breath and focusing on the sensation in your clit. On your exhale, she started to push the plug in. She carefully pushed through the resistance forcing the plug into place.

“Mama!” You cried out. A range of sensation shot through your body all at once. Pain, pleasure, discomfort, pressure all came to a head in a sudden orgasm you hadn’t expected.

Wanda eyes went wide, seemingly taken as off guard as you were. She smiled and rubbed your back affectionately. “Aww,” she cooed, “did my sweet girl just cum just from mama’s plug in her ass. It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so good.”

“I’m sorry, mama,” you apologized. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as sensations overwhelmed you. Unlike your usual orgasms, this one only made you hungrier for more. You turned up the setting on the wand again.

“It’s quite alright, darling,” she assured. “Do you still want mama to fuck you while you have the plug in? It might feel a little different than it ever has before.”

You nodded eagerly. “Please mama!”

“Okay, sweetheart,” she chuckled affectionately, surprised and amused by your eagerness. She lined herself up with your pussy, pulling your hips back to meet her own.

You cried out, suddenly acutely aware of why she’d chosen such a small strap. With the plug in your ass, your pussy felt so much fuller than you would’ve expected. Your hands shot out in front of you, gripping the bed sheets for dear life.

Wanda made her first few strokes slow, watching as the base of the plug shifted with her movements.

“Mama!” You cried again. “Feels so… so full mama. Please!”

“Does it feel good baby?” She asked, rocking into faster. “Do you like having mama in both your holes? Do you like it when she fucks you with a pretty plug in your ass?”

“Yes mama!” You breathed. “It hurts, just a little, but it feels so good mama.”

“Aww does it make your ass feel too full baby?” She cooed. “That’s okay, honey. You can cry while mama fills your holes. That’s it. Cry for mama baby.”

In an almost Pavlovian response, you started to cry. The pain was bearable, even surprisingly pleasant, but Wanda’s command allowed your body permission to let the tears flow. You were glad your admission of pain didn’t seem to deter her, even when it was paired with tears. In fact, the sound of your cries only seemed to spur her on further, nearly pulling out of you and pounding back into you with every stroke.

“Mama I’m gonna cum again,” you sobbed.

Wanda ignored you, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm. You came harder this time, having to turn off the wand between your legs to keep yourself from overstimulating.

You tried to squirm away from Wanda, but she grabbed your hips harder and kept you in place. “No baby. Keep crying for mama. Keep making those pretty noises. I’m so close.”

You felt her hips start to falter before she pushed herself as deep into you as possible. She groaned, near collapsing on top of you before catching herself on the bed.

“That was so perfect, angel,” she soothed, pulling out of you while she gently ran her fingers through your hair. You whined at the sensation, lying limp on the bed. “Let’s get you all cleaned up and in some jammies, and then you can sit under mama’s desk while she finishes working. Does that sound good, little love?”

You nodded, groaning as she pulled out the plug and set it on the nightstand to be cleaned. Your head spun. All you could think of was your mama. You were so lucky to have someone who cared for you so deeply. You were so thankful you had her to guide you, to indulge all your curiosities. “Thank you, mama,” you mumbled tiredly.

“For what, sweetheart?” She asked, playing with your hair and looking down at your blissful face.

“For being here to teach me new things,” you tried to explain. Your head was so floaty you couldn’t get your words quite right. “And… and trying new things with me. And not thinking I’m gross or weird when I get curious about… certain things.”

“Of course, angel,” she said, kissing the top of your head. “That’s what mama’s do.”

—————

Wanda stood next to the bed, this time in her own room: the room she shared with your father. With him gone all week, her previous rules about keeping sex with you out of their shared space had gone as well. Unlike when you were young, it didn’t bother you much anymore. After all, you hadn’t seen him in years. In many ways, he wasn’t so real to you anymore.

So you held no discomfort about your current position, naked on your hands and knees in the middle of their bed.

Wanda was almost equally as naked, wearing nothing but the harness and the necklace you’d just given her. She was working on preparing and securing the toys you two had picked out in the appropriate O-rings. It she wasn’t so goddamn beautiful and you weren’t so goddamn turned on, she might have looked ridiculous.

But you suppose that was part of the gig with sex in general. It’s a little ridiculous, and, actually, mostly rather unsexy. But something about love and arousal morphs your perspective just enough to change everything: to make it a magical experience.

You’d chosen a smaller, blue dildo on the top. It was only about 6 inches long and less than an inch in diameter. On the bottom, you chose the first strap she’d ever fucked you with. It seemed fitting that the first time she’d use the strap on you in three years, she’d use the same one she’d used for your first time ever.

You felt the bed dip and she crawled onto the mattress behind you. She ran her nails down your back. “You are so beautiful, you know that?” She asked in a low sultry tone. She ran a finger up your slit. You’d been practically dripping since you’d opened her gift.

You shivered at her touch, instinctively buckling your hips back against her hand. “Please mama,” you whined. You were already so needy for her.

She wanted to hold out for a little longer, circle you while she toyed with your perfectly displayed body. But one look at your ass had her impatient. She needed to be inside of you, urgently. She lined the bottom toy up with your pussy, slowly pushing into. You were all too inviting, practically swallowing her. She was met with little resistance even in the first couple strokes. Then she pressed the top toy into your ass.

Instinctively, you tensed. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. Relax for mama. I’ve got you.” She rubbed gently at your lower back.

You relax, allowing her to push the toy into you. You whined as she pushed past the initial ring of muscles.

“Mama’s got you,” she reassured. “I’ll go nice and slow.”

The overwhelming full sensation immediately made your arms collapse, pushing you face down into the mattress. It was so much different than having her fuck you while you wore a plug. Rather than a static thing shifting inside of you, there were two things, moving simultaneously in rhythm with one another.

The stretch was overwhelming. You could feel both of the toys from both holes as they each pushed you open. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your mouth fell open. She’d hardly been in you for a minute and you were already losing your mind. “Mama… mama please,” you pleaded.

She leaned over to wipe the hair from your face. “What is it baby? Tell mama what you need,” she said, concerned. It had been a while since she’d fuck you. Maybe this was too much for your first time back. “Do you need mama to stop? I can take the blue one off and we can just use the pink toy,” she suggested anxiously.

You gripped the sheets under your hands, jaw slack and mouth opened. Once again, her anxious rambling fell on deaf ears as your mind was consumed with pleasure. “Faster,” you said unexpectedly. “Please, mama, go faster.”

Her eyes went wide at the unexpected request, but she hesitantly started to build to a moderate pace. She gripped your hips, pulling them to meet hers with each thrust.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” she praised. The sound of your skin hitting hers alone was driving Wanda crazy. She took a few deep breaths, willing herself to calm down. But when your weak little voice cried out from underneath her, she lost all semblance of control.

“Mama, please, harder.”

She tilted her head, giving herself a moment to process what you were saying.

She remembered you at 18, meek and trembling under her. She recalled the way you stuttered when you asked her even the simplest questions about sex. You were so ashamed and afraid to ask anything of her back then. It would’ve taken you weeks to muster even a simple request.

And here you were, years later, underneath her once again, shamelessly begging for her to fuck you harder. She couldn’t be more proud.

She slammed her hips into yours, gripping you hard enough to leave marks. “Did you miss mama fucking you like this? Did you miss her toys filling you up until you couldn’t think anymore?”

You nodded. “Yes mama!”

“You’re taking me so well, little love,” she praised. Her eyes darkened as she watched the strap disappear into you again and again. She was fixated with the sight. “Mama’s gonna have to get the camera out so you can see what a little angel you look like from up here, taking my straps all the way to the hilt. Would you like that baby? Would you like to watch yourself get fucked by mama?”

You nodded. “Mhm,” you hummed, biting your bottom lip. Her words took you slightly off guard, but that didn’t stop them from further turning you on. It seemed your boldness was rubbing off on Wanda.

“Mama could record you a little video and then you could watch it while you touch yourself later, huh? See what a good little girl you are for me.”

You moaned, nearly screaming into the wadded up sheets. “M-mama…” you stammered. The way she spoke, telling you her fantasies so unabashedly, made your head spin. You supposed this was as good a time as any to bring a fantasy of your own into fruition. “S-spank me. Please. Spank my ass.”

Wanda’s eyes darkened with lust at the request. She placed a cautious spank on your right ass cheek. It wasn’t hard enough to actually hurt. It was more just for the sensation.

“Harder,” you requested timidly. “Please, h-hurt me.”

Wanda slapped your other side, harder this time. You cried out, involuntarily clenching around the toys. She spanked you again and again, becoming obsessed with the sensation of you tightening around her. “You like it when mama hurts you?” She asked. Her voice was deeper than usual.

You nodded. You sniffled back tears, desperate not to cry. You were so afraid she’d stop or ease up, thinking she’d hurt you.

“Are you gonna cry for mama?” She asked, picking up on your stifled sniffling. “Go on and cry for me, love. You know mama loves to watch you cry.”

The floodgates opened as you started to sob underneath her, nearly shaking. “Feels so good, mama. I love being stretched with your toys. I love when you hurt me. I love you. I love you.”

Wanda smiled. God you were a vision, crying and trembling underneath her, and asking her to hurt you while you told her you loved her. “I love you too, darling. Fuck. I love you so much.”

“Please make me cum, mama. Please let me cum with you inside me,” you cried.

“You can cum whenever you want, baby. Go ahead and play with yourself for me. Mama’s got you. I wanna watch you cum on my toys, honey. Show mama how much you love her present.”

You reached your hand back and played with your own clit. She started to spank you again. “Mama!” You shrieked as you fell apart under her. She continued to fuck you and spank you, grabbing your hands at the wrist when you moved to push her away.

“Shshsh, angel,” she soothed gently. “I’m just making sure I get it all out of you, baby. Just let mama take care of it, honey.” She took both of your hands, positioning them on either side of your ass. “Be a good girl and hold yourself open for mama, okay?”

She pulled out of you, leaning over to spit in your open asshole. She watched in awe as the muscle closed back up, leaving her spit inside of you. She’d waited years to see this. Had she had a bit of foresight, she would have brought a plug she could stuff you with after, making sure it stayed inside. Oh well. There was always next time.

She moved your hands away, spanking your ass one more time for good measure. You groaned.

She grabbed a cloth off the side table, carefully wiping your clean. You squirmed under her gentle touch, but she held you in place before gently laying you on your side.

Much to your chagrin, she climbed off the bed. “Mama…” you called after her, reaching out for her.

“It’s alright baby, I’m just gonna take this off and then I’ll get all cozy with you in there okay? Wait just a second for mama.”

You pouted for the whole ten seconds it took her to get the harness off. She crawled into bed next to you, pulling you under the blankets with her. You curled into her side while she gently played with your hair.

“You’ve never asked me to spank you before, little love. What was that about?” She asked kindly and nonjudgmentally.

You shrugged. “I don’t know,” you replied hazily. “I was always too embarrassed to ask before, but… I’m not so scared anymore.”

She smiled and kissed your head. “I’m glad you asked,” she admitted. “I enjoyed it. And I’m so very proud of you for being so brave. You made mama braver too, you know.”

You cuddled into her closer, looking up at her from her chest. Your eyes begged a silent question.

She giggled. “Ah, I thought we were asking for what we want now? Now you’re getting all shy on me again?”

You whined. Asking for things was hard, and you thought you’d done quite enough for one day.

She chuckled at your stubbornness. “Do you wanna suckle for mama? You earned it little love, being so brave and asking mama for what you want. Go ahead sweet girl.”

“Thank you, mama,” you say before taking her nipple into your mouth.

“Of course, baby,” she whispered, kissing your head. “That’s what mama’s do.”

Taglist: @wandanatsgirl @jordy-12 @snowy12 @wandamaximoffsbadgirl @wandaslovey @alicentsbunny @theloveweholdtohigh @inarayofmoonlight @boredandneedfanfics @hikyiwid @mrskatemaximoff @redheadsinmybed @wandaslamb @marigoldenblooms @emiliaisdead @lizziefor @virginiatcm @kittercandy

[rcmclachlan]

RC, PLEASE share more BuckTommy headcanons with us, everything you’ve said about them so far has been glorious.

Headcanon 1:

After Buck calls Tommy about touring Harbor and they agree on a date and time, he starts researching. Every free second he has between calls is spent watching videos that walk through what all the switches and gauges on a helicopter control panel do. On his days off, he reads pages and pages of posts on r/flying. There are no less than eight biographies about pilots on his kitchen counter dressed in the colorful fringe of all his page markers at any given moment. He devours Chickenhawk in one evening, then falls down a Wikipedia rabbit hole that starts with the article on the Bell UH-1 Iroquois and spits him out when he finishes reading about a municipality in Baku, Azerbaijan called Bibiheybət just as the sun starts peeking through the windows.

The night before he's supposed to meet Tommy, he takes a practice PPL exam for shits and giggles. He doesn't pass, of course, but he scores better than he expected to, and he can't wait to tell Tommy. He can't wait to wow him with everything he's learned.

Of course, it's all for nothing, because Eddie swoops in and steals Tommy right out from under him before Buck can even ask Tommy about his thoughts on the FAA Reauthorization Act of 2024.

Once they make their relationship official, Tommy does make good on his promise to take Buck up, and it's so fun to watch Tommy navigate the skies like the helicopter is an extension of his body, like he's barely wowed anymore by the fact he can fly, and he even lets Buck handle the cyclic for a couple of minutes.

They're hovering almost 6,000 feet above city limits, watching the sun set in a sweet comfortable silence, when Buck's almost had his fill of looking at the clean lines of Tommy's profile, he says, "Someday, when I get certified, I'm going to do a Screwdriver Down in a MD-500."

Once Tommy has wrestled the bird out of its sudden 400-foot free fall and back into an even hover, he grips the cyclic until his knuckles bleed white and says, teeth clenched, "Evan, unless you want tomorrow's top headline to be 'Two LAFD Firefighters Die In Massive West Hollywood Helicopter Crash,' I'm begging you to keep the dirty talk to yourself until we're back on the ground."

Headcanon 2:

Tommy has seen a UFO. He's actually seen, like, four. The third time, he'd been flying over the San Gabriel Mountains when something popped up on his radar out of literally nowhere and clipped his tail rotor, sending both him and the craft crashing into the woods. 

He doesn't remember anything that happened after that. He woke up in a windowless hospital room where someone in full military dress blues shook his hand and congratulated him on becoming the first ambassador to outer space. Then he made Tommy sign approximately eight million SF-312s and consent to be called upon "if the time should ever come." 

This is why he can't watch sci-fi movies with a straight face.

Headcanon 3:

Back in 1996, Tommy's buddies Jamal Kluger and Mitch Henney finally convinced him to go to one of the weekly school dances, mostly because Jamal was determined to slow dance with Amanda O'Shaughnessy and he needed moral support. Tommy didn't hate dances per se. Were there a hundred other things he'd rather be doing? Yes. He had a backlog of Car and Driver that really needed seeing to, but Jamal was practically his brother and Tommy would do a lot worse than dispassionately swaying with a few of his classmates to Mariah Carey in the name of best-friendship.

He'd been in the middle of trying to get Jamal's attention—not that he was ever going to notice, because he was finally dancing with Amanda and everyone else in the gym had probably ceased to exist—with his hands hovering a respectful quarter inch off Laura Lee Moore's hips, who said she'd specifically requested Dreaming of You, when the slow turning they'd been doing put him at the perfect vantage point to see Brett Bennett, pitcher for the East Woodbridge Falcons, dancing with Vanessa Wilson.

Brett was wearing a really nice button-up shirt and Tommy's gaze kept snagging on the way his arms filled out the sleeves, and he couldn't help but wonder if Vanessa could feel the calluses on Brett's hands through her miniskirt. They were probably rough and kept snagging the fabric. Vanessa could probably feel the pull of them, like velcro trying to pry apart. He watched Brett lean down to say something to her and couldn't help but think Brett wouldn't have to strain his neck so much to talk if he were dancing with Tommy. They were almost of a height; Tommy would barely have to tilt his head down. Selena crooned I just want to hold you close, but so far, all I have are dreams of you, and Tommy's heart pounded so loud he was almost certain Laura Lee could hear it over the music. When the song ended, he awkwardly backed away from her and thanked her for the dance, his gaze on Brett and Vanessa, who were still pressed close even though the Quad City DJs were enthusiastically telling people to ride a train. According to his cousin Denise, who was a grade below him and also in attendance that night, Laura Lee spent the rest of the night crying in the bathroom because Tommy couldn't take his eyes off Vanessa.

Almost thirty years later, he and Evan are hanging on the couch, half-watching an episode of Taskmaster and reminiscing about their first crushes—"Really, Evan, your teacher?"—and when Tommy tells him about wishing he'd danced to Dreaming of You with Brett Bennett, Buck presses a sweet kiss to Tommy's arm and says, "Stop making me want to time travel so I can fight an eleven-year old."

Tommy laughs and says, "It was more wanting to slow dance with a cute boy in front of everyone than Brett himself. You have nothing to be jealous about. When we were in the eighth grade, he crushed up a bunch of Altoids and snorted them through a hollowed-out pen during social studies. I've never heard anyone scream like that in my entire life. They had an ambulance come for him and he never came back to school after that."

"Sounds like a real winner," Evan teases, tongue between his teeth. "You really know how to pick 'em."

"Yeah, it's a gift," Tommy deadpans, and then wrestles Evan, who's cackling like a hyena, into the couch cushions. 

Months later, Howie and Maddie throw a big party—which Howie's been calling Reception Redux in the OG 118 group chat—in Tommy's backyard, and he's in the middle of an unspoken chicken wing eating contest with Eddie—who's winning, and Tommy has no idea how he's putting them away so fast—when the music changes from some pop song he doesn't know to a familiar tinkle of piano chords. Howie strong-arms the mic away from the DJ and announces with a big grin that the song was requested by someone who wanted to "quote-unquote: dance with a cute boy in front of everyone."

Tommy almost chokes on the wing in his mouth, and he barely wipes the barbeque sauce off his fingers in time before Evan comes over, takes his hand, and pulls him onto the little dance floor they'd put down that morning in the flattest part of the yard. 

His heart pounds as Evan drapes his arms over Tommy's shoulders like it's the easiest thing in the world, pressing close until it feels like their bodies are merging everywhere they touch, and then starts to sway. Tommy slowly lets his hands settle on Evan's hips, firm and sure. He doesn't even consider doing the hover thing. 

As Selena sings about wishing on stars, Tommy closes his eyes and tucks his temple against Evan's, and for a moment they're in the East Westbridge Junior High School gym, which smells like sweat and cherry Lip Smackers and body odor, and across the room Jamal and Mitch both give him an enthusiastic thumbs up—and Mitch then does something obscene with his hands that has Jamal smacking him upside the head—because Tommy's dancing with the boy of his dreams in front of everyone while his stack of Car and Driver magazines sit unread and curling from the humidity. 

"If Brett Whatshisname shows up, I won't be responsible for my actions," Evan says warmly, voice soft against the curve of his ear. "Literally. I already cleared it with Athena."

I'll be dreaming with you tonight endlessly, the song promises, and Tommy opens his eyes in the present. He takes a deep breath, borrows the energy of Selena's vow, and pulls back just far enough to whisper against the corner of Evan's mouth, "Marry me."

[guardianofnightmares]

Forbidden

At that moment Bumblebee finally realized that he couldn’t keep the paranoid thoughts locked inside his processor anymore.

He desperately needed to speak to his friends, consequences be damned. He had to make sure that he’s not glitched in a processor. That what he got himself into was a right course of action for any good-natured Bot.

... or, rather, for any sensible Prime.

Hence why, after making a deep inhale, a minibot finally forced the dreaded words out of his intake:

"... is it wrong that I feel... bad for the prisoners? That I... periodically... h-help them?"

----------

Hello everyone, long time no see). Can hardly believe it's been a whole year since the last @blitzbee-week event and man, was I glad to participate in it once more. All of works were submitted on time to an event chat, but, unfortunately, I am uploading them here only now (full-time job drains me up).

Anyways, here is my first drawing from BlitzBeeWeek event Promts List. I think it will be fair to mention that this and next couple of my works will be dedicated to my fanfic called "TFA: Icarus". I will leave a link [here] for anyone interested to give it (and an existing teaser) a try. And yes, I am, in fact, going to finally upload first chapters pretty soon, it's happening, guys))). Thanks a ton for everyone who left their kudos there throughout a year, you have given me courage to put this behemoth of a story on paper and actually work it through.

As for the current entry for an event, I will provide part of a draft to one of chapters which is related to a depicted scene. It'll be "hidden" under a cut line for anyone wishing to get a more... fleshed out picture of what's going on here. Hope you'll enjoy reading it)

----------

“Bumblebee… are you listening to me?”

It was beyond confusing for Ratchet to see a younger Bot acting so out of touch with reality. He’s hunched over a console, helm resting in one servo while a wielding tool was twirled slowly in digits of another. Bumblebee looked so tired, clearly not caring about a task at servo, nor about an advice coming from his elder friend.

White and red Autobot knew how cheerful Bumblebee got each time they met via video calls, clearly waiting for a chance to talk to old teammates, even if these calls didn’t last long. That’s why him being so silent and lost in own thoughts was that much more worrying to witness. 

Upon being prompted again, the young bot finally raised his optics, the weight of his gaze almost making Ratchet flinch in surprise - to think that a recently promoted Prime was capable of behaving so out of character was indeed an alarming sign of change. 

The truth was, the minibot couldn’t help but to act all secretive, as if he’s done something wrong. 

Because, all things considered, he has. 

Minibot was well aware of what his actions could lead up to. All those rendezvous and revelations were such a dangerous subject to talk about, something that surely could lead him to being court marshaled if he’s caught by anybot. And what’s even worse - Bumblebee wasn’t certain whether telling friends what’s been troubling him was a good idea. 

Surely they’d not rat him out… but would they continue interacting with a yellow Autobot if he shared said secret with them? Wouldn't it be more mature of him to leave mechs oblivious (in order to protect them) and let his fears to silently fester in his processor?

... yet, to his shame, a minibot felt his resolve to keep his intake shut breaking upon seeing a haunted expression on Ratchet’s faceplates. Bumblebee wished he hadn’t looked up into the wise optics of his, those that seemed to read him as an unlocked datapad. How could he play it cool when a medic was looking at him in such a manner?

“…kid?” Now Ratchet was truly worried for his companion. He wasn’t even certain he’s ready to hear an explanation, but knew in his spark that he had to get to the bottom of a problem for minibot's sake.

At that moment Bumblebee finally realized that he couldn’t keep the paranoid thoughts locked inside his processor anymore.

He desperately needed to speak to his friends, consequences be damned. He had to make sure that he’s not glitched in a processor. That what he got himself into was a right course of action for any good-natured Bot. 

… or, rather, for any sensible Prime. 

Hence why, after making a deep inhale, a minibot finally forced the dreaded words out of his intake:

“… is it wrong that I feel… bad for the prisoners? That I… periodically… h-help them?” 

… a fleeting moment or relief at voicing his concerns instantly evaporated, changed to regret once he saw Racthet’s optics widening beyond usual capacity and heard Optimus sputtering and coughing on his energon ration off the camera. 

Such reaction made Bumblebee hide his helm between shoulder pauldrons in a clear sign of dread - so much for the support coming from teammates it seemed. 

“What?” Optimus asked after standing up from a table he’s sitting next to, the stool screeching audibly after a mech span in it. “Help them? What do you mean by that, Bumblebee? Are you alright? Do they… force you to do something for them or..?”

Minibot didn’t answer any of those questions. Wasn’t able to do it under the searching gaze of an elder mech’s optics which seemed to pin him to his own stool. Bumblebee felt like energon was going to freeze in his lines and tubes from a rising horror. Time seemed to stop for him, not unlike inner mechanisms in a frame of his. He couldn't utter a single sound, words swimming in a jumbled mess that was his processor.

What could he possibly say in his defense, now that his teammates knew of his secret? That there was a proper reason for him to feel pity for the inmates? That he was the only one to keep those mechs alive because nobody else did? That perhaps, Primus help him, all this time they were held in prison, somebot tried to take them out of game by starving them to their deaths?

A yellow Bot clearly hasn’t thought the conversation through, just as he always did, hasn't prepared himself for such a reaction even, and now that mistake was biting his aft. 

But then… then minibot heard something that immediately tore him from a panicking state he got stuck in. 

“I’ll take care of it, Prime.” Ratchet announced in a calm tone, breaking the tense silence which settled over the video call. Bumblebee was so stunned that he didn’t register those words right away, looking dumbly at warm optics of a mech on the other side of a call line. 

“But-“ 

“Optimus.” Medic cut off his commanding officer in a stern but good-natured manner, showing that he knew what he’s doing. Trusting the judgement of an older Bot, red and blue mech nodded to him and stepped away from a console, giving both of his friends some room to talk to each other. 

Young Prime could hardly believe what he’s been witnessing in front of him. Afraid to hope that his situation might’ve not been so dire after all. Baiting his breath, he watched red and white Bot turning to him again and leaning closer to a screen.

“Bumblebee, tell me, what’s happening back on Cybertron.” Ratchet asked his young friend, trying to look as non-threatening as possible, ready to tentatively listen to everything minibot’s about to say. 

And that’s when Bumblebee understood, felt it in his spark which gleefully thrummed in his chest that his old teammates were not mad at him - only worried for his well-being. Said realization made the built up over orbital cycles tension leave his frame and gave him courage to answer as honestly as he could.  

“You don’t know even half of what's going on, guys,” He stated after a breath moment of silence, then scooted on his chair closer to a screen as well and continued speaking in a hushed tone as to not to be heard by anyone else on his side of a video call. 

While retelling the recent events, which took place in Tripticon Prison, young Prime couldn’t help but periodically glance at a screen to his right side, a list of main convicts taking up most of its surface. 

Their stern gazes seemed to burn a viewer with hostility. Evil, cold, sparkless optics on unsightly faceplates. That’s what fellow guards always tended to whisper to each other either in fear or in bold mockery while walking down the hallways.

But to Bumblebee the very same pairs of optics, those he'd looked into more times then any of the local mechs, more then his friends even, told another story. Each time he saw Decepticons, bound and stripped of their weapons, there was no rage in their expressions, nor malice or contempt - only an eternal tiredness, hopelessness... and resignation with Fate.

Warframes. Mighty mechs being brought to their knees and stripped of their pride. Truly a sight which made minibot feel more miserable then three inmates he tried to take care of.

“Bossbot… Ratchet… please, come back here as soon as you can," Recently promoted Prime finally said as a conclusion to his speech. "I… I am afraid I won’t be able to handle this situation on my own anymore.”

[blues824]

I saw your sheep mc posts in the request masterlist and imagine if sheep mc couldn’t talk like in the manga but can only bleat like a regular sheep. So the brothers got them Dog Buttons that people sometimes use to get their pets to communicate with them. Imagine a scenario where mc uses one of the buttons that say a swear word to cuss out a brother🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Gender-neutral reader.

Lucifer

He had seen a video of the talking buttons on Devilgram, sent to him by Levi, and had asked if you would like them to be able to communicate properly. After you sat on the piece of paper that said ‘yes’ rather than ‘no’, he put in an order for them. A few days later, he got a notification on his DDD that they were delivered.

Upon opening the box, he saw that the buttons were brightly colored, and thus you would be able to distinguish them. Also, there were labels for the buttons as well. He sorted the buttons from normal words to curse words, and for the rest of the day it was a reliever for everyone that you were able to finally communicate in a somewhat normal medium.

However, the peace had not lasted more than a couple of hours. He was sitting in the living room when you were pressing two buttons over and over again. If you couldn’t tell already, it was ‘fuck’ and ‘you’. He looked and saw that you were cursing out Mammon, and he had to refrain himself from laughing out loud as he went to solve the issue.

Mammon

He let out a very loud laugh as he heard that Lucifer ordered the buttons for you, but you rammed into his shin with your horns and that got him to shut up. He helped set the buttons up, and labeled them for you. He pressed a few, and said ‘love you’, and you said ‘love you two (too)’. 

For the rest of the day, Mammon pretty much spent his free time sitting with you and communicating with you through the buttons. It was a lot more fun than he originally anticipated, and he could see why you were enjoying them. The Avatar of Greed was happy that you could finally ‘speak’ to him.

But, Satan came out of his bedroom in a rage and stomped on and broke the ‘outside’ button. You, being the chaotic sheep that you are, immediately started pressing buttons. You said ‘fight, bitch’, and got yourself ready to ram into the Avatar of Wrath. Mammon had to hold you back as Lucifer restrained Satan before any damage was caused.

Leviathan

He originally saw the video and sent it to Lucifer, saying that a system like that could be used for you to communicate your needs in a more efficient way. He also sent the link to order the buttons if the eldest agreed, and he was very excited to help set them up once they had arrived. You had the job of pressing each of the buttons to make sure that none of them were defective.

This was probably the longest amount of time that he had spent outside of his room, just watching you have fun pressing the buttons and asking for random things like water and snacks. He catered to your every desire because he knew that you were enjoying getting something akin to your voice back.

But, the fun was over when Mammon ran into the living room trying to escape Lucifer and accidentally broke one of the buttons. You were upset and said ‘Fuck you, Mams’. That sentence alone had the Avatar of Envy rolling on the floor in tears just laughing as you continued to press those three buttons over and over.

Satan

Each of the brothers pitched in and helped with the labeling of the buttons. Satan thought that the excited sparkle in your eyes was absolutely adorable as you started pressing the buttons. The first one you had pressed was ‘cat’, and he knelt down to the ground to say ‘love you’ as he left to go do something else.

He was sad that he couldn’t spend too much time with you and your buttons, but he had to do the grocery shopping for the HoL, as it was his turn to cook and he found a recipe that he wanted to try out. Unfortunately, he did not have all of the ingredients, and thus needed to go to the store. He did ask if you wanted anything, and you responded ‘snack’, and he made a note on the list to get your favorite snack.

When he came back home, he heard you in the kitchen saying ‘shit’ over and over again. He looked and saw that you had spilled a glass of water and you couldn’t wipe it up because your hooves did not allow you to grab anything. He laughed as he went to clean up the spill, and stated that it was no big deal.

Asmodeus

He was probably more excited than you, to be honest. He loved the videos of the dogs pressing the buttons, so he was very happy that you would be doing it to be able to communicate better. That means you could help him choose between two different clothing options, and you would be able to say ‘one’ or ‘two’.

The first buttons you had pressed were ‘Asmo, beautiful’, and the Avatar of Lust let out a squeal as he canceled all of his plans to just hang out with you for the remainder of the day. He took many videos and posted them to his Devilgram. All the comments were just things like ‘so cute!’ and ‘nice to see that Avatars are accommodating the exchange student!’.

But, the excitement was short-lived when Mammon was running from Levi and crushed one of your buttons. Asmo gasped as you immediately pressed the buttons ‘shit head’, and he had to hold in the laughs he wanted so desperately to let out. His older brother looked like a kicked puppy, but since he saw that the Avatar of Envy was also distracted by what you said, took advantage and continued to run.

Beelzebub

He set up the food-related buttons, obviously. It was funny to hear his voice come from the buttons rather than one that matched you, but at least you could communicate your needs and wants in a clearer and less tedious way. You seemed very excited about it as well, so he was just happy that you were happy.

Almost immediately, you asked for a snack, and he went to the kitchen and brought back a sweet snack and a savory snack so that you could choose what you wanted. You actually really enjoyed the buttons, and you had your very first full-blown conversation with Beel. It was a very moving moment for the big demon, as he had never been able to hear you before.

But, happy time was over when Lucifer accidentally stepped on and broke one of the buttons… ‘burger’. You pressed ‘bitch’ over and over, and you did not allow the eldest brother to get a word in. The Avatar of Gluttony set out about purchasing an extra button to replace the one that broke, but he found the situation absolutely hilarious.

Belphegor

He was honestly confused, but recorded the sleep/rest-related buttons. It was weird to hear his own voice whenever you asked if you could nap with him, but he would never refuse a request from his beloved Y/N. Honestly, he didn’t mind the buttons. He always made sure that he minded where he stepped to make sure that he didn’t break them.

There were times where he would wake up to you pressing a button, be it ‘school’ or ‘breakfast’ or something of the sort, and he low-key preferred it where you did not have any buttons and thus couldn’t wake him up. But, if there was any way he would rather wake up, this would probably be what he chose.

One time, Beel accidentally broke one of the buttons, and before he could apologize, you said ‘want, fight, piece, shit?’, and the twins got the idea. Belphie started laughing so hard, and the Avatar of Gluttony was just looking like a kicked puppy as you continued to cuss him out.

[gatitties]

The truth

—Yandere!Bonten x motherly!reader (platonic)

—Summary: an accident makes you more aware of reality even though you already knew it, but what can someone like you do?

—Warnings: blood, kidnapping, obsession, toxic behaviors, harassment

I never thought this would go so far as to have five parts but... here we are! 🫣 (maybe this part is a bit long, srry)

@boycigs there you go!! 🫶🏻

Part one / Part two / Part three / Part four

You fumbled with the wall for the light switch, your tired eyes playing with you and making you almost trip over a blanket that had been thrown on the floor.

You yawned stretching your back, you had been working on some files that Kokonoi asked you to correct, you fell asleep without dinner and your stomach decided to wake you up at this time of night.

Luckily you had some leftovers from today's lunch, everyone had come to eat despite it being your 'day off', but since they had been busy with work more than usual lately, they couldn't spend as much time with you as they would like, although that didn't stop them from hiding cameras in your apartment to check that everything was okay from time to time.

A knock at the door made you frown, remembering the first time you met Sanzu. You walked slowly, expecting to run into him, or even one of the Haitani brothers who ran brothels near the area, it wouldn't be the first time they've come home drunk after a good night.

When you opened it, confusion flooded your face, there was no one there, not a note, nothing, you thought that maybe you were still too sleepy and you had hallucinated, or maybe it was some late-night teenager making a joke. You shrugged shutting to go back to your dinner, but before you knew it or could make a move something hit you in the back of the neck, knocking you unconscious, the last thing you saw was a few blurry faces, but none you knew in the slightest.

Panic, panic was the first thing Mochizuki experienced when he saw the recordings from the cameras installed in your house. He had to do a checkup the next morning and just seeing how careless they had been to let that trash kidnap you made his thoughts turn to disgust and guilt.

Not even five minutes after seeing that, all the executives were gathered in their meeting room, no matter where they were, they all got there instantly upon answering Mochi's call.

"And if I pause right here..." Mochi stopped the video just as two men lifted your unconscious body "this guy here, on his neck, his tattoo is from another band."

"Those bastards have been giving us so much trouble lately, I'm looking forward to seeing blood drain from their brains."

Sanzu slammed both hands on the table, completely irritated and concerned for your well-being, he was controlling his urge to go looking for you only because Mikey had remained silent with a blank stare throughout the entire meeting.

The Haitani brothers were already warming up to fight, Takeomi was mobilizing some men to search your apartment for clues while Koko and Kakucho were trying to find where your chip signal was. Yes, although unknown to you, they decided to insert a tracking chip into you a while ago just to know where you were when they couldn't be around.

The signal was bad, either because you were too far away from their location or because you were somewhere underground, which didn't help much. They were all probably on the verge of hysteria, the search wasn't going fast enough as they'd like and it only made their mood worse.

It took at least five days for them to come up with any solid leads to your whereabouts, the worst five days of their existence, the poor people or employees who will come across any of them probably aren't alive anymore. Mikey locked himself in and refused to come out unless they heard from you, he barely ate and his sleep schedule got even worse.

"Are you sure it's there?"

"Yes, several of our men have seen these guys with the same tattoo come and go, it doesn't appear to be their central base but it's hidden enough to carry out kidnappings."

Takeomi pointed to a warehouse on the outskirts of the city, everyone mobilized to go there immediately, even Mikey and Kokonoi, who didn't usually get their hands dirty with this kind of work, decided to go.

As for you... it was confusing the first day you woke up, the feeling of a gun pointed at your head became familiar as did the ropes on your wrists and ankles. Your reaction upon seeing the criminals was to release an inaudible sigh, without fear or surprise, your state was neutral.

You knew it, you knew that sooner or later this was going to happen, as much as your guys will try to hide you from problems with other mafias, there are always some leaks, and playing with loved ones from enemy gangs is the easiest card to play to threaten. Although in this case they didn't even have time to issue a threat to Bonten when they had already been threatened by your kidnapping.

The following days were threats to your people to try to get information that could put Bonten in trouble, as well as planning to move to another of their hideouts, however you were unaware of most of the things that Bonten did, although you were their secretary, you were only in charge of planning schedules and correcting some superficial reports from Kokonoi, you were not much help to these scoundrels.

"Damn! I don't understand how they could have protected you so much if you're just a useless old woman, you're useless! Why the hell do those guys hold you in such high esteem...?"

In the outburst of anger as he took it out on you, the sound of his hand slamming into your cheek sounded as the door above fell off its hinges.

"Boss, we have a prob-!"

The eye of the man who was coming down the stairs was blown out thanks to a bullet, landing right between your feet, you closed your eyes and, no matter if you don't believe in any god or anything, you prayed, not for you, but for what all these people did not suffer such a painful death.

You knew what Bonten men were capable of, at first you thought you were exaggerating, but that was the truth and at times, it terrified you. You were terrified to think of all the lives that left this world just because of you, your boys were more than gangsters, more than just criminals, they were monsters looking for any excuse to kill, and you were that excuse.

You knew that there was nothing in this world that would make you reverse time to the point of not having helped that drunk guy at the door of your house, you knew that nothing would make all those men leave your side because of showing your kindness, you knew that no kind of therapy could help such rotten minds at this point, so you could only swallow, as scared as you were, as much as your legs trembled, you had chosen this path yourself and you had to accept it.

"Mom..."

Your breath quickened slightly as you felt Sanzu's cold hand resting on your cheek, you slowly opened your eyes to see pure relief reflected in his, ignoring the bloodstains on his clothes and face, and even ignoring the blood he was leaving on your face, you smiled at him.

"I'm fine guys, I'm… fine."

You had to swallow and avoid getting dizzy from the smell of oxide in the place, your memories are blurry when you try to remember when you left there, you remember seeing many practically mutilated bodies, a river of blood and many arms holding your body as if you were going to disintegrate at that precise moment.

After you were rescued, you spent at least two days in a hospital at Kokonoi's request to see that you didn't have any injuries, everyone turned to you with questions about how you were doing, especially mentally.

It became suffocating, the amount of attention you received after that event, made you understand that, from now on, you could not have a single moment for yourself, no matter the job, the time or the place, you will always have one of them on top of you to keep an eye on you.

It doesn't matter if you complain, the truth, which you had to accept once again, is that nothing but death could separate you from these men, because they were not willing to let you go, ever. But the worst of all is that you accepted it, you accepted your fate, a fate that was sealed a long time ago, you accepted that you lived with monsters, that you helped and treated horrible people like completely sane people, but, an ordinary person like you, no could change anything.

"How long until the cake is ready?"

"Don't be impatient Rin, it's only been in the oven for five minutes."

"That's already a long time..."

"Shut up, you're always so impatient!"

"Are you looking for a fight!?"

"Kakucho, could you...?"

A nod from him made you sigh in relief, breaking up the Haitani brothers' fight as you sat at the table with the others who were talking about random topics. You stared into your teacup, your blank stare imagining imaginary scenes of another lifestyle in the steaming liquid.

"Are you ok? You seem distracted."

You looked at Kokonoi, keeping your gaze off without focusing on his face, you nodded with a slight smile when you saw that everyone had shut up to look at you.

"Yeah, I just didn't sleep well today."

"We'll buy a new bed then."

"I did not mean that..."

And like many things in your current life, your opinion was thrown away just to bring you more 'comfort'. You had no power and that was the absolute truth, nothing could change at this point.

[cupiohearts]

I WISH YOU LOVE ! - reminiscing with gun.

(cant catch me now series). GUN VER. dg ver. goo ver

they see you everywhere. james, jonggun, joongoo. they find bits and pieces of you lying around in their pockets, their houses and memories. it depends on which one it is which scene they see you in.

for GUN, he cant figure out for the life of anyone why they would wish someone that moved on in life the best of luck. he was a selfish man. when you disappeared from him, he mutters bitterly to himself wishing curses upon your name. the tear drops on the letter you wrote to him being the symbolism behind it all.

why would he want you to do well without him? why did you have to leave him?

did you not care as much as you said you did? he furrows his eyebrow. taking another drag out of his cigarette while he watches the stupid couple on the street pick out matching items for each other.

"jonggun! jonggun! look come here! hurry up!" you hiss at him as you press your face against the glass of a window. it was the pet adoption center. a calico cat taking a nap in the window as you cood at it.

that was the ugliest cat hes ever seen. it's eyes looked a bit too similar to the one you always give him when you want him to do something ridiculous for you.

"its cute" he gruffly says. you raise an eyebrow at him and made a face "youre a big fat liar. when we grow old with joongoo and james! we should all get a cat together!"

you giggle as you wiggled your finger at the cat. your breath fogging up the glass and when you pulled away he could see a slight bit of lipgloss- or lip tint- or whatever you were wearing on your lips that left it all glossy and shimmery left on the window.

he didnt say anything about it. he probably shouldve. you left the window dirty with your makeup. the same lips he imagined himself kissing from to time.

he thinks again. gun is a selfish man. when he read the letter you gave him, he thinks to himself for a far longer period of time than what he would appreciate.

he picks up the small camera you left behind in your apartment. he kept it with him for some reason. it was to keep videos and photos of yourself so he wont forget all of the times hes had with you.

"gun stop! stop! stop- what in the world happened here?!" your voice can be heard from behind the camera. the camera work a bit shaky as you walk closer to the restaurant.

there were a lot of bodies on the floor. a lot. "did you take them all down by yourself?" you ask him. you already knew the answer. he didnt need to respond but he did "yes"

you let out a deep sigh "this was supposed to be a cute video! you just ruined it. i wanted to send my mom and dad videos of me while im still here!"

you never sent it. he almost wished you did. so your parents knew what your friends were in korea. gangsters hanging out with the most.. sane one. sane is a strong word. hed think more like you were the glue.

you held everyone together, but at the same time. you were the one keeping them in the past.

that wasnt what he thought as he read your note though.

while he reading the shaky lines with splotchy text. the tears you left on the paper made it all crumbly and the words were hard to read.

he could only wish you the worst time without him. you better not be happier than you were with him. thats how you made him feel. he felt like the vines growing around the fence around you. his growth was hindered by the boundaries you had. if you werent there, he wouldve probably never grown in the first place, but you were also the reason he couldnt get better.

even as he read the lines 'jongun, you are the one who destroyed me the most.' he felt a small smile come to his face. he really is the most selfish person he knew.

sooooo... im here. I DID THE SECONDPARTY YIPPEE 😋😋 is it messy idk

i havent proof read so im assuming its ok. if its ooc mb brother.

their personalities are hard to capture anyways live laufh love the lookism blondes <3 the hottest in the game frl

[watchmegetobsessed]

AND THE GRAMMY GOES TO

A/N: this is literally just a little something i thought of upon seeinf this pic of Lizzo recording Harry lmao

WORD COUNT: 698

SUMMARY: The moment Harry wins another Grammy.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

“And the Grammy goes to…” Trevor Noah starts the big announcement as he opens the envelope and the whole room goes eerily quiet.

You have your eyes glued to the stage, you’ve forgotten about how uncomfortable your dress feels around your chest (note to yourself, corsets only look good, but they are straight from hell when you actually wear them). You’re holding your breath while both of your hands are gripping Harry’s underneath the table and his hold is just as tight, his palms sweating as you all wait for the winner’s name to be dropped.

You allow yourself to peek at him and you see his blank stare, but you know there’s a whole tornado behind it, his mind is probably racing faster than ever and you almost miss how he is anxiously kicking the foot of his chair as the silent moments tick by.

When you look back at the stage you see Trevor opening the envelope, but instead of saying what’s inside, he looks behind, as if he was searching for someone and when he steps over to the adorable old lady in the line behind him, you already know.

Harry won.

He won another Grammy. 

“Har-Harry Styles!” the lady screams and you jump to your feet, unable to control your excitement any longer.

“Oh my God! Yes! Yes!” you scream and jump around, like a deranged football fan after her team just won. Everyone around is cheering and clapping and you look at Harry who has his face buried in his hands, his shoulders gently shaking.

“Baby, you won! I’m so proud of you!” You practically jump on top of him and he finally lifts his head, all his happiness reflecting from his eyes as he jumps to his feet and gathers you in his arms, squeezing you so tight that air gets knocked out of your lungs, but it’s okay, because you want to feel it all, you want to feel his pride and happiness in the moment he deserved so much. 

“You did it, H! I’m so so so proud of you!” you bounce in his arms before he pulls back and his lips land on yours, probably for the first time ever at an event like this. There are thousands of people around you, but in that moment it’s just you and him, sharing this magical experience he earned.

When he lets go of you to accept more congratulations you keep jumping and clapping with your hands up in the air, screaming in happiness and then you spot Lizzo behind you, her phone in her hand as she records your reaction.

“He won! My man won another Grammy!” you scream into the camera, making her laugh before it’s her turn to hug the winner himself. You’re out of breath by the time Harry heads up to the stage and you have to fix your dress so you don’t flash on national TV.

“Oh my God, this is amazing,” Lizzo laughs next to you and peeking over her shoulder you see that she is watching the video back, you’re acting like you just lost your mind while Harry is just hugging everyone one after the other.

“Don’t you dare post that anywhere,” you warn her, but you already know from the look in her eyes that she won’t gatekeep this one.

“Oh babygirl, your birthday is coming up, right?” She laughs like a maniac as you gape at her, pretending to be shocked, but before you could say a word Harry’s voice is heard coming from the speakers. 

He starts his totally random acceptance speech, rambling on about how thankful he is and how much this means to me, his gaze keeps flickering down at the award in his hands and you’ll never forget that smile that’s etched onto his face in that moment.

“...so, thank you so much and, erm…” he looks up, eyes swiping over the crowd before landing on you as he continues.” I wouldn’t be here without you.”

It seemed like he was addressing it to mostly his fans, but from the way his eyes were piercing into yours, you knew that it was meant only for you.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[viking-raider]

Sy's Therapy Barn

Summary: Austin Syverson is newly retired from the Army and struggling to cope with his PTSD. Until he decides to take a chance on a hobby, most wouldn't think could help, and the person there to help teach him how to do it.

Pairing: Syverson/Reader

Word Count: 5k

Rating: M - Quick-Burn, Language, Angst, Fluff, Mentions of PTSD, Combat Fatigue, Trauma, Wine drinking, Flirting, Support System, Movie Quotes, Leap of Faith, Mentions (but no depictions) of Mental Illness, Domestic Violence, Alcoholism, SMUT - Light, P in V

Inspiration: I saw this Instagram video of a handsome, buff gentleman that ran a pottery business and promoted it on the site.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed it. I am so sorry to any Pottery people for butchering it.

Syverson wouldn't lie, even though he had thought the hobby was stupid, the first time he thought about it. But, upon seeing a poster at an outdoor market he had decided to attend one, warm Dallas weekend, to get out of the house. Something inside of Sy had urged him to save the number in his phone, before finding the ale stand.

It wasn't until almost a month later, after waking up in the dead of night. He laid curled up in a ball, hugging his knees and struggling to breath. With the blankets and pillows thrown off the king-sized bed, and the black fitted sheet beneath him drenched in his sweat. Aika pressed against his back and whimpering at her owner's distress. It was then that Sy knew he needed something more, other than just denial, the gun range and booze to deal with his PTSD and Combat Fatigue.

He wasn't about to go sit down on some squeaky metal, folding chair, in the basement of some random religious church, listening to other Vets talk about their combat experience. Everyone nodding their heads and offering sympathy and the Word of God. Sy had stopped believing in God over a decade ago. Because, how could some magical man in the sky, with some grand plan for you, before and after you died, allow such bullshit evil into the world.

He didn't want sympathy, far from it.

Austin Syverson, also didn't do sympathy.

So, he pulled up the number from the outdoor market and gave the business a call.

“Mini's Pottery Haven, how can I help you?” A cheery voice chimed on the other end.

Sy let out a hard breath. “Hi, I saw your poster at a market, a couple weeks ago, for a pottery class.” He said, rubbing a palm over his buzzed head, feeling stupid for calling a pottery business, thinking it would help him, in any way, with his trauma. “I was wondering, if you're still doing classes?”

“Yes, we are!” She confirmed, happily. “We have one tonight, with two spots left, if you'd like to join it.”

“Oh!” Sy started, surprised, not expecting one so soon, hoping for a day to work up the nerve to call her back and cancel. “How much is it?”

“Thirty dollars, for just one person, and sixty dollars for a couple.” She informed him, pressing her phone to her ear and bringing up the planner on her computer. “You can pay when you arrive at the class.” She added, distractedly.

Sy paced his kitchen for a moment, before pausing and straightening his back. “I'll take one of the spots and pay the thirty, when I arrive.”

“Excellent! Can I have your name, please?”

“Syverson.” He answered, out of pure habit.

“All right, we look forward to seeing you tonight, and what you create!” She told him, her voice upbeat and optimistic, like she expected Sy to be the next Michelangelo, before hanging up.

“The boys would lose their shit, if they ever find out I tried pottery.” Sy said, stuffing his phone into the front pocket of his jeans.

Later that night, Sy found himself standing out front of the humble, little pottery shop, the full window front was bright from the lights inside, which was flowing with people, all standing around chatting with each other and holding glasses of wine.

“At least, they have booze.” Sy commented to himself.

“First time?” A soft voice asked, from behind him.

“Huh?” He frowned, turning around to find a gorgeous woman standing behind him, a large bag slung over her shoulder, as she regarded him with a kind expression. “Oh, yeah. You?” He asked, trying to be polite.

“Naw, I've been getting my hands messy with clay for years.” You smiled at him, patting your bag. “I assume you're here for the class.” You asked, motioning towards the shop.

“I am.” Sy nodded, licking his lips. “Just working up the nerve to go inside.” He explained to you.

“Ah, yeah. We pottery nerds can be dangerous.” You teased, smirking up at him. “You make one reference to Ghost in there and they'll turn you into a clay mold. If not, pelt you out of the shop with lumps of it.” You giggled, moving by him to step up onto the curb and grab the door handle.

A laugh rumbled out of Sy's broad chest, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I'll make sure to keep the Ghost quotes to myself then.” He said, turning his sparkling blue eyes towards you.

“Well, no time like the present.” You told him, pulling the door open and holding it for him.

“That's true.” He nodded, his smile softly fading as he joined you on the sidewalk, stopping beside you for a moment. “Thanks for the pep talk.” He said, giving you a gentle nod, before going inside.

The place was a buzz with voices as he paused by the counter, taking out his wallet to pay for his admission for the night's class. He glanced over his shoulder to see where you'd gone, but you had vanished somewhere into the crowd. Shrugging, figuring you'd paid in advance or had some sort of membership, he handed over his bank card to Mini, the owner of the business, who was a sweet looking, elderly woman, dressed in a loose and colorful, bohemian strap dress. Taking his card and the Hello, My Name Is: sticker she handed back with it, Sy turned away, spotting the small wine station, also surrounded by numerous black sharpies. He headed over, scribbling Sy, on his sticker and poured himself a glass of some kind of red wine, before finding somewhere quiet to stand, to wait for the class to start.

As he stood there, sipping his wine and looking at a wall of finished clay figurines, cups and other knick knacks, he felt a pair of eyes on him. Clearing his throat, he glanced sideways, figuring you were checking him out, which he was more than fine with. But he discovered it was another woman giving him eye-candy. She was tall, with bleach-blonde hair and in a hot-pink tracksuit, she felt out of place for a pottery shop. Though, Sy knew he shouldn't be one to speak, standing there in a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt, that had been to war with him, tight blue jeans, a pair of cowboy boots, with a black stetson cowboy hat.

The way she lifted her wine glass, however, suggested she wanted to jump his bones.

Which only amused the retired Army Captain.

“All right, ladies and gentleman!” Mini called, clapping her hands together and coming around the counter to regard her customers. “If we can all head towards the other end of the shop, where all the potter's wheels and everything are. We can start the class.” She smiled, motioning everyone to the back.

Everyone moved to the back in a messy, single-file line, still sipping the rest of their wine and chatting with each other. The woman in the pink tracksuit lagging back to walk with Sy, fluttering her lashes at him.

“Ma'am.” He acknowledged her, touching the brim of his hat, but didn't give her much else.

“What's a man like you doing in a pottery class?” She asked, biting the corner of her lip.

Sy licked his lips. “I got nothing better to do.” He said, not willing to admit the real reason he was there to her.

“I'm sure a big, strong, handsome man like you could find something to do.” She insinuated, fluttering her lashes at him.

“Pottery is just fine, thanks.” Sy replied, offering her a weak smile.

“Everyone, please find a pottery wheel and it doesn't matter which one.” Mini said, motioning to the dozen or so pottery wheels in a circle, a round lump of clay already waiting on them to be shaped.

Sy waited until almost everyone was seated, not wanting to take the chance of getting stuck sitting next to the woman hitting on him, far from that mood tonight. So, taking up a pottery wheel and grabbing the provided apron, he took off his hat and set it on a shelf behind his wheel, and slipped on the apron. Sy chuckled, sitting down on the comically small stool before the wheel, as he balanced his large, muscular body on it, smirking up at the rest of the group; seeing some of them sit on the stool like they'd done it a million times and others wobble.

“The first thing we're going to do, before we start shaping our clay,” Mini began explaining, sitting at wheel herself, apron on and perched on her stool, like the forty-plus year pottery maker she was. “is to assign our first timers, helpers. I will be giving instructions and so forth, but your helper will be there for you, just in case you need a refresher or get frustrated.” She told the group, looking around at everyone. “But just remember, just like us, human beings, we are all unique and beautiful. It doesn't matter how many times your clay refuses to shape into what your mind's eye thinks it should, or tears apart, or even if it doesn't bake right in the kiln. It is still beautiful! You still brought it into this world with your own two hands, and you should be proud of that. Because it's something no one else in this room did.”

Sy blinked at her, slightly taken aback by her statement. So used to Army instructors drilling into him about, if it's not perfect, you're dead or your buddy next to you, is.

“So, helpers, I'll let you pick your person. You've all worked here before, so you know how to identify them.”

“And how do you do that?” Someone blurted out, making Mini and the helpers chuckle.

“Well, that's one way for us to find you.” One of the helpers quipped in an Australian accent, moving across the room to said person. “But, it's the name tags, mate, or Ryan, I should say.” He smirked, offering out his hand to the newcomer. “I'm Joel.”

“Those of us here that don't have a name tag, are old pros.” Mini smiled, resting her forearms on the edge of her potter's wheel, while the rest of the helpers spread out.

“Good to see you made it all the way into the building.”

Sy looked over his shoulder and grinned up at you. “Yeah, I had a little bit of help.” He replied, glad, and a bit surprised, to see you were one of the helpers.

“Well, you're about to get some more help.” You said, glancing at his name tag. “Sy.”

He felt a lump lodge in his throat as you said his name. “That's great.” He rasped back. “I'm going to need it. These hands have only known how to do one thing, for the last twenty years.” He told you, holding up his calloused mitts.

“Oh, you got good hands for clay shaping.” You said, taking one of them in both of yours. “I'm sure we can teach these pups a new trick or two.”

“Can you teach this ol' pup any?” Sy asked, smiling at you.

“I might.” You nodded, pulling a stool up beside him. “Let's listen to Mini first, then we can find out what you want to make that clay into.” You told him, giving him an encouraging smile, that cracked open the door to a place he had tried to keep shut.

“Everyone have their partner?” Mini asked, looking around, then nodded. “Good! Now, you're going to learn your proper posture for molding.” She began, leaning forward and started her instruction for the next several minutes.

“Christ, I don't know if I can remember all that.” Sy said, blowing out a breath and shaking his head at his mound of clay. “I'm just a simple country boy, fresh out of the Army.”

You giggled beside him, lightly patting him on the back. “That's why you got me.” You reminded him, sweetly. “Now, what do you want to make? And, I swear if you say a dildo, I will get up and leave.” You warned him, seriously.

“Have people actually asked you that?” He frowned, cocking his head at you.

“Yes, more often than you might think.” You huffed, shaking your head. “I'll make anything else though.”

“To be honest with you,” Sy started, frowning down at the clay and shaking his head. “I don't know what to make. I've never been the artistic type. I always failed art class back in school.”

“Well, that's the wonder of art, and clay for that matter, Sy.” You told him, softly. “You can make whatever you want. You don't need to be artsy for it. What's the first thing that comes to your mind? Anything at all.”

“My dog.” He blurted out, biting his lip, feeling silly for it.

“All right, what about a dog bowl?” You suggested, tossing out the first dog related thing that came to your mind.

“Could we make a bowl?” Sy asked, looking over at you.

“Absolutely!” You nodded, grinning. “If you wanna make a bowl for your doggo, then we'll make one. I'll use all ten years of my clay making experience to help.”

“All right, a bowl for Aika, it is.” Sy nodded back, inspired.

“That's a sweet name.” You commented, watching Sy position himself, much as Mini instructed, then drizzle a little bit of water onto the clay and cup it in his large hands, almost hiding it completely in his palms as he started to work the wheel with his foot. “Good, that's a great speed. Keep it up. Little less pressure though.” You reminded him, watching the clay start to pancake a bit.

“Sorry.” He apologized, letting off on it.

“You're all right.” You answered, shaking your head. “So, what made you try out pottery?” You asked, reaching out, instinctively, to add a little more water.

Sy was quiet for a long moment, playing with and shaping his clay, watching the thick residue from it cover his fingers and palms. While trying to find a way to answer. He could give you the same answer he'd given the pink tracksuit lady or he could be honest. Spying you from the corner of his eye, he noticed you weren't waiting for a reply, not being pushy or intrusive. You had simply asked him the question and given him the space to answer it, when and if he wanted to with no hard feelings.

It was a breath of fresh air to him, just like feeling the wet clay in his hands. Knowing he was creating something, not harming it.

“I was hoping it would help me,” He finally answered you, licking his lips, deciding to be honest. “With my combat PTSD.” He added softer, waiting for your reaction.

“It can be quite calming.” You admitted, no ill reaction on your face. “It can also be rather frustrating.” You chuckled, with a smirk. “I about tossed the piece I was working on this morning, when one of the sides collapsed on me. I'd only been working on it for six hours.”

“Six hours!” Sy exclaimed, sitting back to look at you more steadily.

“You suffer for the art sometimes.” You told him, with amusement at his expression. “But, it's well worth it in the end. Most of the time, at least.”

“Christ, I hope this doesn't take that long.” He said, looking down at the weirdly shaped, almost oblong bit of clay on his wheel.

You looked around the room, before leaning close to Sy. “I think you're wonderful, Oda Mae.” You whispered into his ear, so none of your friends could hear you, knowing the complaints they'd give you for the reference after the class.

A huge smile crossed Sy's face and he howled with laughter, catching everyone's attention.

“I crack a good joke, we all know it!” You told them, grinning with guilt.

“I like you.” Sy said, once everyone's attention went back to their own station. “You're the first person that's made me laugh, like that, since I came home on retirement from the Army. A year ago.”

“Oh yeah?” You grinned, feeling a hot rush through your body that wasn't the glass of wine you had earlier. “Well, if you think I can crack a good joke, you'll see how good of a pottery teacher I am.”

“You take any students?” Sy blurted out, before he knew what he was thinking.

You floundered, mouth hanging open. “Um, no.” You admitted, shocked he'd asked, then saw the light start to fade in his blue eyes. “But I could consider it.” You said, quickly. “Especially if it helps you cope with your PTSD.”

“I think it just might.” He proclaimed, finding himself smitten with both pottery and you.

You laughed, throwing up your arm as Sy flicked the wet clay on his fingers at you. “Austin!” You tried to duck the mucky droplets as they splattered all over your apron, the side of your arm, face and hair, still giggling.

“You were looking a bit dry over there!” He guffawed, grinning at you. “What the heck, are you shapin', anyhow?” He asked, balancing himself back on his stool and eyeing your kaolin clay, seeing the strange, cup-like shape you had going.

“I don't really know.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders at the grayish-yellow clay before you. “I'm just trying to understand it, and make something. That will hopefully not crack in the kiln. If I ever get around to firing it.” You told him, leaning forward again, feeling the soreness in your lower spine and forearms from working in that position for so long. “What about you?” You asked, cocking a brow at Sy, without looking away from what you were starting to consider your Frankenstein.

“Another ceramic grenade cup.” You smirked, curving your thumb into the center of the clay. “Or, what was that tea pot you made?” You asked, giggling as you recalled pulling the craft out of the kiln.

“I don't want to talk about it.” Sy replied, sounding disgruntled.

You laughed, nodding your head. “That's right, it was supposed to be a turt—Austin!” You shrieked, as his big, wet clay covered mitt swiped across your face. “Oh my god!”

“It was nothing, woman.” He huffed at you, with mischievous eyes, as he sat back down. “But I do have a question for you, babe.”

“Oh?” You replied, standing up to wipe the streak off your face before it dried.

“I was thinking,” He paused for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as he continued to work his clay. “I still have a large chunk of my retirement payment from the Army, just sitting in my bank account.” He said, scowling as one side of the clay started to collapse.

“All right.” You nodded, staring down at him, as you stood between your two pottery wheels in the garage of Sy's house, situated on the ten acres he owned.

“I've been considering,” He licked his lips and sat back, to look up at you, wanting to see your face when he said aloud what had been on his mind for the last year and a half. “I want to open up my own shop.”

You blinked at him a couple times, processing his words. “Your own pottery shop?” You asked for clarification.

“Yeah, I want to open a pottery barn, to help Vets, like myself. Hell, to help anyone with PTSD or trauma. It helped me through so many nights of episodes and flashbacks.” He explained to you, babbling out the idea that had been swirling around him, and looked back up. “You helped me.” He whispered quietly, before shaking his head and squeezing the clay on his wheel.

“It's a stupid idea.”

Watching him destroy the piece he'd just spent the last hour and a half working on, stung you, but it hurt you more to hear him say his idea was stupid. You thought it was incredible. That it was so thoughtful and sweet of him to want to share a hobby that had given him so much in the last two years.

You were flattered to be a part of that journey with him, as well.

Your big bear.

“I think it's a terribly-” You sat down in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “good idea, Austin Syverson.” You declared, kissing him lovingly. “And if I hear anyone say otherwise, I'll pelt them with wet clay, until they think it is.”

A bright smile pulled across Sy's face as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “So, you'll come be my first employee?” He asked, nosing the side of your neck, smelling your perfume mixed with the earthy scents of pottery, tinged with a light sheen of sweat from how warm it was in the garage.

“Oh, I'm going to work for you, am I?” You cooed, amused. “What position, do I get?”

“Hmm.” He hummed, pressing his lips to your skin. “How about the head of pottery?”

“What's your job going to be?” You asked, eyes fluttering shut.

“I'm the boss.” He chuckled, tugging on your ear. “I'll have a bunch of jobs. But there's no one I trust more than you, with all your infinite wisdom of pottery, to run that area.” He told you, his hands pushing under your tank top. “I do only have two years of experience, compared to your thirteen.”

“Oh, laying it on thicker than a glaze, Captain.” You purred, feeling his fingers leave trails of drying clay on the skin of your back. “But I do like the sound of it. Do I get to boss you around during classes?” You asked, cupping the back of his head in your palm and rubbing the short hair there with your thumb, while your other hand dripped to the strings of his camouflage apron.

Sy smirked, giving your neck a sharp bite and making you gasp. “You boss me around already.”

“I do not!” You huffed, with an amused flash in your eyes, pushing his head back to look up at you.

“Whatever you say, my darling.” He replied, blue eyes sparkling.

“That's what I thought.” You smirked, kissing the bridge of his nose.

Pulling his hands from your tank top and gripping you by the hips, Sy pushed you up and pulled your legs across his lap, so you straddled him. You moaned at the straining bulge in his black sweatpants, pressing down against it through your short-shorts, sucking lightly on your bottom lip.

“What are we calling your little pottery business?” You hummed, reaching between your bodies to slip into the waistband of his sweats, finding his thick manhood and gliding your hand along it, drawing out a shivering sigh out from him.

“I don't know.” He rasped, clawing at your hips and the band of your shorts, leaving red marks in their wake. “Maybe, Sy's Therapy Barn or something.” He puffed, losing focus on the idea of running a business and growing more interested in tearing your shorts and underwear off.

“I like it.” You nodded, slipping off his lap, smiling at his hands grabbing to bring you back, but stood and took your shorts and panties off, before straddling his thick thighs again. “Rolls of the tongue and easy to remember.” You told him, taking his burning shaft in your hand, stroking him firmly as you guided him towards your glistening entrance.

“Mmhm.” Sy mumbled, his mouth latching onto your collarbone. “Whatever you say, babe.”

You chuckled, caressing your free hand over his head and gripped his shoulder, using it as leverage to sink down onto him, with a soft sigh and leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I love you, Syverson.”

“Ditto.” He rumbled back, wrapping his arms around you and locking you against him.

“Welcome to Sy's Therapy Barn!” You grinned as a man came through the door, the bell above it chiming through the building, his ripped muscles making the fabric of his Under Armor shirt scream, his tattooed arms showing below the short sleeves. “Are you here for the classes or to look about?” You asked, motioning around the grand shop with beaming pride.

You and Sy had found a thousand square foot warehouse, filling it with all your pottery and therapy needs and dreams. Sy had even decided to go to school and become a licensed therapist, allowing him to help the people coming into the Therapy Barn better. While they got their hands cupped around the little mounds of clay, during your classes, so they could shape it into whatever their minds wanted or needed.

Part of the warehouse was set up with kilns of all sizes and kinds, tall and wide shelves to hold pour molds and drying creations. While another section was where you and Sy held the classes for the therapy groups, either for former or active Combat Service people or, those who Sy referred to as Regulars, members of the public who hadn't served. All of them there to try and remedy their PTSD, trauma, depression, loss, domestic violence or anything else along those lines.

People that didn't require therapy were also welcome, of course.

But the two of you catered to those in need specifically, and so far, business was booming. Sy had gone to the several local Veteran Centers in the Dallas area with fliers promoting the business's program, as well as the VFW Canteens and posting on the internet. Even calling some of his old comrades. Sy had been worried and a bit skeptical with your first pottery class, sure that no one was going to show up to it. However, when the time rolled around, the bell above the front door started dinging with customers, most of them were middle aged or elderly, but there were several your and Sy's age, looking apprehensive.

It made you smile to see that look on their face, it was the exact expression you'd seen on Sy's face, that night you met in the parking lot of Mini's Pottery Barn, before he discovered the magic of forming clay. You always looked forward to seeing it change into the wonder of how amazing it is, to see your brave Captain use his fresh Bachelor's Degree to help them work through the same struggles he had. The struggles you had woken up at one or two in the morning, to find Sy in the garage, in nothing, but the shorts he'd gone to bed in, hunched over his pottery wheel, his muscles tight and teeth gritted, but his hands cupped gently around the piece of clay he was working. Trying to chase away whatever he had been awoken by.

“I'm here for the class, with Dr. Syverson.” He replied, looking around uneasily, like he expected a bomb to go off in one of the teapots you'd crafted and had on sale in the front window of the shop.

“That's great!” You grinned at him, trying to be open and encouraging towards him. “The class will start in ten minutes. You can either take a seat or have a look around. There's coffee, tea and water on the table with some cupcakes and snicker-doodle cookies, so help yourself.”

“No booze.” He mumbled, eyeing the table.

“No,” You answered, giving him an emphatic look. “Some of our potter's are recovering and sober, so we don't offer it.” You explained to him, glancing over at one of your regulars with a nod. “To repress the urge to relapse.”

He looked at you for a moment. “That's—actually, very thoughtful of you.” He said, blinking as it came over him.

“We do our best.” Sy said, appearing from the back. “Pleasure to meet ya.” He offered his hand to the other man. “Captain Syverson, 1st battalion, 3rd SFG(a). Also Dr. Austin Syverson, the co-owner of this here Therapy Barn.” He introduced himself, always giving his classifications to the Vets, knowing how at ease it made them and started that thread of a bond with him.

“Pleasure to meet you, Captain.” He replied, shaking Sy's hand. “Lieutenant Daniel Burton, 3rd recon battalion, for the Marines.”

“Well, it's good to meet you, Lieutenant.” Sy nodded, then smiled over at you, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back. “I'm sure my fiancee has given you the introduction to our business.”

“That she has.” Daniel nodded, giving you a kind smile. “Though, I'll admit, I'm a little apprehensive as to how this is going to help me get straightened out. I watched some videos on pottery on Youtube and it just doesn't seem like much.”

You and Sy looked at each other, a smile and knowing look on each other's faces.

“It seems that way. I thought the same thing, myself, at first.” Sy confessed, a winking at you. “But, all you have to do is take all your emotions. All your pain, all your love, all your passion and all your rage and work it into that bit of clay we give you on that pottery wheel and the rest comes with it.”

You looked at Sy, it had become a thing between the two of you, and in doing so, that line had become his motto. It had become part of the business's motto, and few people actually caught the reference. But that was all right. The two of you still got through to people in the end. Saving them from their dark past through horrible movie quotes, a man that took a chance on a hobby and your skill with moving clay, sculpting a life and a business out of it.

[thatgirlwbraids]

you are limitless , you can manifest anything

when it comes to LOA you can have whatever you want literally WHATEVER you are completely limitless as everything literally EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE’s existence is because of you , you are the cause you are the creator of this world .

“If you can conceptualize it, it must exist. These are so minute in detail that we will never truly question the nature of our reality. It is best to view this reality almost like a frame by frame video. However, Consciousness does not have to be the watcher of this video, but can stop the frame and redirect the video to where Man sees fit. Since there are infinite Versions of yourself, being Specific on how you want to be is achievable. Take where you are now. Maybe you are 18 years old, maybe 48, it does not matter. Go back one year and realize that one year ago, the Version you are now, existed when you were 17 or 47 years old. Did you not have the freedom to be a different version? If so, do you not have that same freedom now? “ - edward art

Man can bring things into existence through his thoughts and consciousness .

Consciousness has the power to resurrect or bring things into existence . nothing exists without your consciousness or imagination

This truth is common to all men, but the consciousness of it – and much more, the self-consciousness of it – is another matter. The day I realized this great truth – that everything in my world is a manifestation of the mental activity which goes on within me, and that the conditions and circumstances of my life only reflect the state of consciousness with which I am fused – is the most momentous in my life.

you are always going to be greater than anything that is expressed in your reality be it good or bad because ofc ? like you created it and the creator is always greater than it’s creations .

“ The power conceiving and the thing conceived are one but the power to conceive is greater than the conception. Jesus discovered this glorious truth when he declared, "I and my Father are one but my Father is greater than I." The power conceiving itself to be man is greater than its conception. All conceptions are limitations of the conceiver. Consciousness precedes all manifestations and is the prop upon which all manifestation rests. To remove the manifestations all that is required of you, the conceiver, is to take your attention away from the conception. Instead of "Out of sight out of mind," it really is "Out of mind out of sight." The manifestation will remain in sight only as long as it takes the force with which the conceiver — I AM — originally endowed it to spend itself. This applies to all creation from the infinitesimally small electron to the infinitely great universe. Be still and know that I AM God. Yes, this very I AM, your awareness of being, is God, the only God. I AM is the Lord— the God of all Flesh— all manifestation. This presence, your unconditioned awareness, comprehends neither beginning nor ending; limitations exist only in the manifestation. When you realize that this awareness is your eternal self you will know that before Abraham was, I AM.“

“ Only through one door can that which you seek pass into the world of manifestation. I AM the door. Your consciousness is the door, so you must become conscious of being and having that which you desire to be and to have. Any attempt to realize your desires in ways other than through the door of consciousness makes you a thief and a robber unto yourself. Any expression that is not felt is unnatural. Before anything appears, God, I AM, feels itself to be the thing desired; and then the thing felt appears. It is resurrected, lifted out of the nothingness. “

“ I AM wealthy, poor, healthy, sick, free, confined were first of all impressions or conditions felt before they became visible expressions. Your world is your consciousness objectified. Waste no time trying to change the outside; change the within or the impression; and the without or expression will take care of itself. When the truth of this statement dawns upon you, you will know that you have found the lost word or the key to every door. I AM (your consciousness) is the magical lost word which was made flesh in the likeness of that which you are conscious of being “

bibical analogy :

“ Your unconditioned awareness or I AM is the Virgin Mary who knew not a man and yet, unaided by man, conceived and bore a son, Mary, the unconditioned consciousness, desired and then became conscious of being the conditioned state which she desired to express, and in a way unknown to others became it. Go and do likewise; assume the consciousness of that which you desire to be and you, too, will give birth to your savior. When the annunciation is made, when the urge or desire is upon you, believe it to be God's spoken word seeking embodiment through you. Go, tell no man of this holy thing that you have conceived. Lock your secret within you and magnify the Lord, magnify or believe your desire to be your savior coming to be with you. “

"A man can receive nothing (no thing) except it be given him from Heaven." Remember heaven is your consciousness; the Kingdom of Heaven is within you. This is why you are warned against calling any man Father; your consciousness is the Father of all that you are. Again you are told, "Salute no man on the highway." See no man as an authority. Why should you ask man for permission to express when you realize that your world, in its every detail, originated within you and is sustained by you as the only conceptional center? “

- neville , your faith is your fortune

[lovelyjj]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8wwy3pu/

Hi I was wondering if you could do reader sitting at the restaurant with her boyfriend jj or Rafe and their with some friends and reader is scrolling through TikTok and ask jj or Rafe to do this trend (if not just ignore this)

TikTok Trend

jj maybank x reader

a/n: I lowkey hate this i’m so sorry it’s short but thank you so much for requesting!

The restaurant was fairly busy. You were with your friends, the pogues and your boyfriend JJ. You were waiting for your food and talking about what you were gonna do next.

“We could go out on the boat,” John B suggested.

“Or we could do a bonfire at the beach,” Kiara chimed in.

“That sounds nice,” you admitted.

Eventually your food arrived and you all enjoyed eating. The waitress refilled your drinks and you appreciated it. After you were done eating you pulled out your phone.

You started scrolling on tiktok, mindlessly looking at videos. Then you stumbled upon a trend. The trend was to pretend you don’t know each other and then hug or kiss. You immediately wanted to do it with JJ.

“Jayj?” you called.

“Yes sweetheart?” JJ replied.

“Will you film a tiktok with me?” you asked.

“Yeah sure.”

“Ok you have to pretend you don’t know me and then bump into me and then kiss or hug me,” you explained.

“Sounds good,” JJ confirmed he herd you.

The restaurant you were eating at was on the pier. So the two of you excused yourselves and walked down the pier a little bit. Once you found an open spot with no other people walking around, you set up your phone.

You leaned your phone against the railing and hit record. You and JJ got into frame and avoided each others gaze. You started walking and JJ started walking towards you. You bumped into each other and gave each other confusing looks.

Then JJ grabbed your face with both hands on your cheeks. He kissed you with passion. He walked you backwards. Then the video stopped because the time was filled up.

“Let’s do it one more time just in case ok?” you suggested.

“Yeah ok,” JJ responded.

You set it up to record again and then backed up. JJ was looking away from you and you were looking away from him when you bumped into each other, and then looked confused. JJ stepped back a bit while you stayed in place.

JJ came running at you and scooped you up in his arms while you laughed. It was so cute. You went to retrieve your phone and watch the video back. You showed JJ and he thought it was perfect.

“Which one should I post?” you asked JJ.

“Hmm i don’t know maybe the first one,” JJ suggested.

You watched the first one and agreed with JJ. That was the one to post. It encompassed JJ perfectly. You were happy with it and you had a good time doing the trend.

As you walked back to your seats you posted the video on tiktok. You thought it was funny and sweet. Eventually you returned back to the table with your friends.

Later that day you were at the beach doing a bonfire. You were sitting on JJ’s lap around the fire with his arms wrapped around you. Everyone enjoyed the fire and the sound of the waves.

————-

The next morning you decided to check tiktok and you were blown away to see so many likes and comments.

Sarbear190: you guys are the cutest <3

JohnBeeee: JJ is a monstrosity

Kiarawithak: in love with your relationship

thepopeheyward: You two make me believe in true love.

Cleoisabaddie: Life is not perfect but the two of you are.

JJmaybank87: Love you forever and ever baby

There was quite a bit of other comments gushing over you and JJ. Comments like “goals” and “you’re so lucky.” The video did well, it got a lot of likes and you were pleased.

JJ was laying down next to you in bed. You put your hand on his cheek and said, “Good morning baby boy.”

“Good morning princess,” JJ grumbled.

You gave JJ a kiss on his lips before saying “I love you. We should make tiktoks more often.”

“I love you too and yeah of course we’re naturals.”

[sleepybbie]

KOI NO YOKAN | nagi x reader

summary: koi no yokan - the sudden knowledge upon meeting someone that the two of you are destined to fall in love. nagi still remembers the day he met you and the day he fell in love with you.

nagi seishiro x fem!reader

notes: from nagi’s pov! h/c - hair color, h/l - hair length, e/c - eye color, f/n - friend’s name <33

a/n: aaahh i love this man sm ! ૮꒰ྀི⊃´ ꒳ `⊂ྀི꒱ა

nagi still remembers the day he first saw you.

it was during one of his football practices at school. his good friend, reo and his other teammates were practicing as usual on the field, the soccer ball being kicked around—same old, same old. it was a hassle to have practices after school when he could just be at home at the moment, play video games all day and have the most relaxing naps alone at his home.

well now that his life had changed after he met the ambitious mikage son, nagi knew he couldn’t go back to that boring lifestyle he used to have anymore.

“nagi over here, over here…!” he hears reo yell from the side. today’s practice was a 5 on 5 match at hakuho high’s soccer club. nagi nonchalantly yet swiftly kicked the ball towards reo without any second thought in his head except of going home early after today’s game. when reo caught the ball, the purple haired boy ran towards the goal, confusing the enemy side with his small dribbling tricks to attempt to distract them, and passed it to a nearby teammate.

nagi almost let out a loud grunt when that same teammate that reo passed to, kicked the ball so high it went out of the field in full speed. “it’s out! someone catch it before it hits somebody!” someone beside reo yelled. reo looked over at nagi and shouted, “nagi quick! get it!”

what a pain…

his legs now running with speed, nagi’s eyes glued to the floating ball failed to notice people standing in his direction. including a group of friends who were now running out of the way. the ball was now heading towards someone..he picked up the pace a little.

“y/n watch out!” a call of somebody’s name echoed into his ears before nagi jumped up high and caught the ball within seconds with his feet. thank goodness he got it just in time, or else it would’ve already hit the person in front of him. the moment he stopped the ball, it was if he managed to stop time, too. nagi’s grey orbs scanning down to see a face just right below him.

a girl

her eyes were looking back at him, filled with surprise and amazement. his white bangs flowed along with the rhythm of the cold wind that hit his face, he could see her properly from his vision. h/c h/l hair, her eyes were a hue of e/c pupils. at that same split second, the earth created a collision between two people for their first meeting, much more different than fate walking pass by—like a painter touching a skin of a canvas for the first time in order to create a masterpiece.

the ball stopped, and nagi swiftly landed on the ground, trying to push himself as much as possible to not hit the girl on his way. kicking the ball back up, nagi kicks the ball back into the field and watches as reo takes it and slammed the ball towards the goal, earning another point for their team. 3-0, it was slightly unfair. there were yells from that same area—saying how that pass was even possible. though, mostly everyone knows hakuho high’s crazy soccer duo.

nagi places both of his hands on his hip, letting out a sigh before he faces the person standing behind him. she’s still there, looking scared of what just happened. “uhmm…” he began, “are you alright?”

she winces. odd..he was at least twice the times taller than her figure. although he knows that there were other girls shorter than her in this school, she was just one of them. “oh…! uhh, yes i’m ok. t-thank you for saving me..” she says, giving nagi a short bow. a shy type of student? she seems to stutter easily upon talking. nagi raises a brow, a little perplexed, “it’s not much of a big deal, anyways…i wouldn’t really call that saving..”

the girl blinks her eyes twice and she chuckles, seeming unbothered of what just happened. she had a nice smile, warm and stitched beautiful across her kind expression. he changed his mind, was this girl the calm type? she’s certainly showing no concern of the trouble his teammate made (and he had to stop it for him). thinking about someone’s facial expression is such a bother, why is he even thinking of it?

“i’m honest. if it weren’t for you i would’ve got hit. so, thank you so much,” she says, quite in a soft tone. maybe she was the soft-hearted type..? she looks studious. she’s probably smart, too. at this point, nagi feels like he’s already judging a person based on their looks, but he couldn’t help it.

“eh..like i said, ‘s not much of a big de—

“y/n! ugh, thank goodness you’re ok!” the sentences were cut off soon when the person who was with her (who is probably her friend) ran straight to her side, concerned expressions on her face as her hands clutch onto her shoulders, shaking them.

“i-i’m fine, f/n..! i didn’t get hit i swear..!”

“i know but still…!” her friend looked over to nagi’s direction, and the snowy haired boy knew he was going to get an earful by this random chick who was defending her best friend. maybe if he just sneaked off, then he’ll be safe..? “hey nagi, could you and your team kindly stop kicking the ball so hard?? you guys could’ve hit someone, y’know?!” she began, and nagi immediately discarded his short plan. yeah, he’s used to this by now.

“oi are you listening?!”

‘ugh, so noisy, what a hassle..and how does this girl even know my name? do i know her?’

“ahh..! f/n! i’m sorry, sorry. about my teammate kicking the ball out of the field,” well about time his savior arrived. nagi watches as reo appeared out from behind and nervously raised both of his hands up as a stop gesture to back the girl named f/n up away from the sleepy genius. f/n scoffs, “reo…hey, it would be appreciated if you tell your team to calm down with the ball or else it would’ve hit y/n right here. if it weren’t for this guy then i’d be seeing her at the infirmary room.”

this girl is so loud, nagi thinks. compared to the girl he just saved from the soccer ball. f/n mentioned her name is…y/n? huh..

“i’m really sorry again. i’ll tell that to them. i’m sorry, too, y/n. i hope it didn’t scare you much.”

“like i said, it’s ok…! you don’t need to apologize, reo. i’m fine, see?”

oh, his friend knows y/n, too.

“reo, you know them?” nagi questions. reo looked over at nagi and raises his brow, looking puzzled. f/n had an offended look over her face while y/n just giggled. did he say anything wrong? he’s sure he asked him right.

“nagi…these two are our classmates..”

nagi blinks. “oh…really?”

“the hell do you mean, really?!” f/n shouts at him, obviously pissed. maybe he should stop sleeping in class all the time…or sneak off during recess to play..? yet again, reo is always finding ways to look for him at break hours.

reo sighs as he rolled his eyes. “calm down…he’s always like this. c’mon nagi, let’s go back to practice. we got another match next week.”

“mm..”

“you better keep your word, reo..! let’s go, y/n,” f/n uttered to the purple haired male, reo waves off as a response while nagi still stood there. f/n calmly took y/n’s hand and walked off the opposite direction, dragging her along.

“ah..! bye nagi…! thank you once again..!” y/n waves to him, with a smile. and then the two friends left.

nagi was a little surprised. it was the first time a girl said goodbye like that to him…exception of his other female relatives and his mom. a classmate of his.

nothing else to say, he raises his hand up, waving back. “bye..?” his voice was soft, only he could hear it, as if there was a lump trapped between his throat.

that was strange

he remembers the first time he had a long chat with you.

it was when reo held a study group for the upcoming exams their school was having. everyone knew how smart the mikage’s son is, so they immediately asked him if he could help them with tutoring. who was he to say no?

however, reo wanted to drag nagi along as well for the group study session. nagi at first, declined; saying it was too much of a bother to even study for an exam (even if it was an upcoming long test) and that he was far too tired to come with them (not to mention a whole group of students he doesn’t know is coming, too). it took the lazy male awhile to just say ‘yes’ to the rich boy after what seemed like an hour of endless pleading for him to tag along. the only reason why nagi decided to, is because reo made a solution of doing the study session at a huge cafe that was nearby an arcade shop.

once the group was ready to stroll, nagi stayed far behind from them as mostly every student talked to reo while walking towards the cafe, he just walked, being occupied by his phone.

“oh! reo, f/n said that they’ll follow by. what cafe are we going to, again? gotta tell her so she’ll know where we’re studying.”

“oh, just the cafe 20 minutes near our school beside the arcade store. tell her and she’ll know.”

oh shit…nagi remembers her. the girl that gave him the stink eye when the soccer ball almost hit…

‘what was her name again…?’ nagi’s thoughts began to sink in wonder. oh right…her name is y/n. it’s been a long time since nagi last saw her. so y/n’s friend was coming by to the study group…great, looks like god wasn’t on his side today. he’s a 100% sure she’ll be irritated if she saw him there at the same table.

when the group entered the cafe, reo easily booked them a large table where all could sit beside one another without any problems. everyone cheered for him. nagi wasn’t able to sit besides reo since it seems like he was seated between two girls who were calling over for his attention, asking how this formula works or how to solve this problem in the most ear screeching voice nagi could ever hear. maths was hell, and reo was a master of all subjects in their class.

it was around 1:58pm when their group studying began. nagi barely paid any attention to what reo was tutoring to them. he’s silently playing on his phone that was well hidden under the desk, while his classmates focused on their books in hand. when he finds reo to be distracted with the tutoring, nagi decided to pretend to excuse himself to go to the bathroom; when he’s really planning to visit the arcade next door instead. the snowy haired male wasn’t interested in the study anyways.

he finds himself going outside the cafe and hurriedly rushed to the arcade door, where at first enter was a glance of neon lights and game-like explosions blasting from the inside. nagi’s eyes sparkled from the sight of one of his favorite games at one of the arcade stalls nearby, he had enough quarters with him, maybe playing a few rounds wouldn’t hurt.

the thing that was a pain, is that there were many players on line. as in many. the game had its reasons of why it was going popular today, and nagi knew that very well.

‘such a hassle…there’s so many people in line…better if i exchange a few quarters first just in case..’ he thoughts to himself as he heads towards to one of the employers in the arcade arena. the aisle was surrounded by a lot of people possibly his age, and some half of them were loving couples who were comfortable enough to flirt with one another in public. displaying affection in areas like this is enough to make nagi sick.

next to him were crane machines (and players throwing slight tantrums when the stuffed animal went back down), ticket counters, and racing car games. his eyes darted everywhere, trying to look for a few exchanges for his whole dollar yen until he spotted a figure in front of one of the crane machines.

h/l h/c hair..a short figure…and the reflection of the glass from the crane game.

ah

oh..!

it was her

her hands were manoeuvring over the crane’s handle, focusing on what stuffed animal she plans to get. however, the stuffed bunny fell back down to where it came from, and he hears y/n groan in dismay. nagi finds himself watching her attempt to get the stuffed bunny for at least two more rounds. although, in those two rounds, the poor girl still wasn’t able to get the stuffed toy she wanted. her pout made her look like a toddler. nagi had no idea how long he was gazing at y/n till he failed to notice she was already turning around and saw him. she jumped in surprise.

“ah..! n-nagi-san..?! is that you??”

“oh…hey,” was all he replied, very casually. y/n’s face shifted into a look of puzzlement, holding her school bag tight in her palms as she tilted her head, “what are you doing here? i thought you were part of reo’s study group..”

“eh..got bored. decided to drop by here instead. what’re you doing here?”

she giggles. “aha, you’re…very blunt and straightforward about it. i’m here because f/n-chan is part of the study group..isn’t reo going to be angry if he finds out you’re here..?”

he shrugs, “don’t know. but i know reo, so i trust he won’t. i think..” he thinks. he’s been playing with the purple haired boy for almost 4 months now, and his talent being used as an instrument for soccer and for his and reo’s dream to bring home the world cup…nagi just wishes he would know how to study expressions more. but now…reo wasn’t with him, instead there’s this girl (who is his classmate at school), looking over at him with a curious stare.

“don’t worry. i’ll talk to him out of this if he did.”

“ah…ok, i see..”

“by the way, are you having trouble getting that plush bunny at the crane machine?”

“eh..?? so you’ve noticed..”

“ ‘ts easy. don’t know why you have such a hard time..”

“i-i’m not an expert..!”

“mm..then, i’ll give it a try..”

“you will..??”

“mm..”

nagi wasn’t quite sure what had gotten into him when he decided to take over the controller of the crane machine, however he did know is that he easily won the bunny plushie for y/n, who gave him the most softest and widest smile he has ever seen. reo had beamed at him like that before, in fact he was the first one who had ever shown nagi appreciation and like towards the boring genius. but, something about how y/n did seemed…a little odd.

“that was amazing..! you did it with no hesitation..!”

“like i said, ‘ts easy..all you have to do is find the right angle and press the button to grab it.”

“how are you able to find the perfect angle so easily though?? nagi-san you must have sharp eyes.”

“you ask a lot of questions..”

“ah! sorry!”

and the next thing he knew, he was sitting next to her at one of the dining tables, licking on an ice cream while y/n continued to talk a lot about her interests. in return, nagi told her about him and reo, and at first y/n mistaken the two of them as a couple due to how close they were. the only reply nagi gave was ‘cringe.’

“i’m not interested in getting into a relationship…sounds like a drag to always have quality time with them just because you like them..”

“though, not quality time is always required in a relationship, nagi-san. there are other languages in love, too…i heard..”

“is that so? well that’s even more of a bother…”

having such a conversation like this with a girl…nagi has no idea what was coming to him.

he didn’t know how long they started talking to one another. all he knew, was that he helped her win a stuffed animal in some boring crane machine, and she followed him when he began to play the game he waited for, and watched him beat every player lined up, then, the two of them went to a dining table at the side and ordered ice cream. however, their convo with one another was cut short when f/n bursted inside the arcade along with reo, and spotted the two of them together eating. reo had this fizzled expression on his look, his face having questions of what the two of them were doing together, while f/n was surprised her best friend was with someone like nagi.

“oh! nagi-san, before we part, do you have line?”

nagi felt his shoulders weigh down a bit. “line id? uhh…yeah.”

“let’s exchange ids…is it ok? i…i wanna keep talking to you.”

head empty, nagi wasn’t sure what to reply for that while her best friend seems to be staring at him intensely.

“mm…sure.”

well, at least it was you who made the first move…nagi thinks to himself.

weird

he will never forget the day…in which the day he fell in love with you.

the news of the blue lock staff members giving the bllk-11 team the order of having a vacation after defeating the u20 team brought excitement over to nagi’s head. he missed his home, ahh he also missed his cactus, he misses his warm bed and…

‘ah…why am i thinking of y/n again..?’

once he got all his stuff back, nagi made the decision of jumping on his mattress and take a nap when he’s back home. he was fetched home by one of the blue lock buses, he bid farewell to the friends he made along the way during the (hellish) soccer project, and by the time he reaches his door, nagi was happy to find choki back all healthy on his window still.

probably ba-ya was the one who returned choki. he did leave it on her hands after all. then again…he remembered what he told reo back during their match alongside isagi and barou. nagi couldn’t help but give out a small sigh once he looked over choki.

‘such a drag…thinking too much is a hassle..’

he left his stuff on the ground before jumping on his bed and bringing out his phone. the weather was nice…comfortable even. the perfect weather where he can do nothing but sleep the entire day away.

if that’s the case…why is he suddenly looking for y/n’s contact number?

when the other line rung, he can hear her picking up the phone, her breath shaky on the side.

“y/n?”

“ah..! nagi-san, sorry if i picked up late!”

“eh..? that was a quick pick up than i expected, y’know..?” she… still sounded the same. during the match with u20, he could actually see her at one of the stalls of the audience along with her friends. he wanted to wave hi, nagi wanted to talk to her even like before after the game. he just didn’t know he only had the courage now to make a call. come to think of it, why did he even call her on the first place?

“ehe…sorry, i was cleaning my room. ah.! also, congrats on your team’s win. i’m so happy for you and reo!”

he frowns. “mm, thanks..”

“how is he by the way? i was texting him after the game but…he’s not responding. is he alright?”

nagi thinks of himself as someone who would just cast everything away aside so that it wouldn’t be a problem for him (or as he’d like to call it, be more of a bother to him). so, he’s so confused on why he’s telling y/n everything of what happened to him at blue lock, what happened between him and reo, and the rush he felt during the progress of becoming the world’s best striker. he was letting all of his feelings out…to nobody but y/n.

y/n listens attentively, humming on every detail he said. giving feedback of what she thinks…comforting him on the other side of the phone.

what nagi didn’t know the most, of why his heart was beating so fast right now.

more…he wanted to talk to her more..

he didn’t even realize it began to rain outside his window. the snowy haired male didn’t realize either he was talking to her for so long. nagi isn’t a chatty person, everyone knows his stoic and unbothered behaviour, however when it came to y/n..he just doesn’t know what’s going on with himself anymore.

nagi feels warm.

“nagi-san…are you ok?” y/n’s voice was soft, like a whisper. she sounded concerned, worried. nagi’s eyes dropped to the cushion of his bed, staring at his socks—feeling the rain patter hard on the window next to him, and his grey eyes painted with a natural dull cover.

“yeah..” is all he replied. “..m just feeling a bit tired. that’s all.”

“i see…i’m glad you called. i was also planning to call you. i just decided to tidy up around first before doing so, yet i didn’t expect you’d call me first..aha..” y/n says, letting out a soft giggle. nagi could hear her adjust her phone, the sound of soft pillows rummaging on the other side. she was probably laying down on her bed right now as it rained.

“you know…after your game against the u-20 team…i wanted to see you.”

just like the moment when reo looked up to him and his boring demeanor, when he first made the scoring goal against the u-20, when he managed to trick rin itoshi back at blue lock…nagi felt like his heart beating ten times faster now. the world pauses for a second, he couldn’t hear the rain outside anymore, only the sound of his heartbeat echoing through. the feeling of warmth that he felt when talking to her…it seemed to be increasing so much he feels the tip of his ears turning red.

this is a new feeling to him. not like any soccer match or anything involved with reo and his other friends, no. all of this fuzzy emotions building up inside of his stomach…all new. there was silence over the phone.

“u-umm..sorry, that was a strange thing to say, isn’t it?”

nagi fixed his posture a little, pulling a pillow close to his chest. “nah…well, maybe a bit. it isn’t much of a bother though.”

badump

“oh really..? well i’m glad then! i thought i might’ve said something awkward…sorry, you were just silent for a moment there i thought you were feeling odd about what i said.”

badump

he hugs the pillow tighter. “no.. ‘s fine..i was just surprised you wanted to talk and see someone like me. you and reo are weird.”

badump

“e-eh? only? i’m really sorry then!”

badump..

“but really though, i really hope you and reo get along again soon. you two are so well known in our school..! popular even, i overhear the girls in the bathroom that you two are amazing that you guys brought a powerhouse school down!”

stupid fucking heart..why do you keep beating so fast? you’re just talking to a girl.

the rain fell a little fainter, although the melodies of his heart didn’t seem to stop whenever y/n continued to talk on the phone. his bangs covered his eyes, only listening to her soothing tone of her sweet voice. she sounded pretty…so fucking pretty.

“hey..” nagi suddenly cuts her off. this strange sensation rubbing through his chest. y/n obliged, and immediately went quiet. “hm?”

“i think i like you.”

maybe he was the strange one after all.

[sluttysanemi]

Sanemi loves you like loves you when ever you post something on one of your social he spams a bunch of fan comments and is the first to like. As his girlfriend you appreciate it. (after he will ask for some nudes-) You know those girls on tiktok and how they being showing off their looks can you do one with sanemi but you were out with your friends and one of your male friends got in the back ground so all you see is sanemi commenting saying that the dude in the back ruined the video of his beautiful girlfriend. (then maybe he will ask for nudes🥰)

༊*·˚

PROTECTIVE

a/n: hey kitten... u like daddys work, dont u? so why arent u looking at his snippet for his upcoming fic? dont u want more sanemi..? yes.. go look at it.. yes.. thats a good kitten...

c/w: implied nude sending, slightly suggestive, jst sanemi being jelly

Sanemi is a domineering partner who cherishes you sincerely. He tends to come across as possessive, but his intentions always center on his feelings of warmth and love for you. 

He's consistently the first to like your posts upon social media. His online presence is cluttered of photos of you together- Always ensuring to bring up that you were his spouse. He knew you were gorgeous; having you beside him was his greatest pride, and he intended to state such clearly. Everyone needs to be aware of his claim to you. 

He is charming. He truly is. You continually ensure he knows the extent to which you appreciate him. His magnetism is unmistakable. Your admiration for him grows deeper every day. 

Occasionally your affection is expressed through provocative photography. Tormenting and thrilling him. The imagery of your supple breast, or the internal curves of your thigh arouses him immensely. That was simply your effect.

And he loved it. 

༊*·˚

One time, you were out with an abundance of your colleagues, delighting in drinks. The atmosphere was vibrant, as everyone had enjoyed a lively evening, the environment consumed with laughter. It was an indispensable vacation from your routine, and an opportunity to bond with your peers beyond the office.

You decide to capture the occasion as you dig for your phone, striking a snapshot of the entire group. The lens click echoes through the air, preserving a moment in time.

You decide to share the shot, and the tender scenery, upon your page, relishing it. You thought the photo was precious. 

However, someone else had not been so joyous towards it. 

Sanemi, as per usual, was the first to peruse your post. He adored how you looked. You were as stunning as ever. His emotions flutter as he peers at your complexion. 

He caught a glimpse of somebody else. A man. He scowls, as he narrows his gaze at his phone. His pure presence within the frame filled him with revulsion. He had almost been jealous, analyzing how obnoxiously close he sat to you. 

Though he felicitated your appealing features, and the charming glow of your smile, he additionally offered a few personal remarks towards the male outsider. Making certain you grasped his personal opinion of him. 

You swiftly saw what he had said, gasping at his obscenity. You almost struggled to comprehend the bizarre sentence he had managed to come up with. He was certainly envious, you thought. 

You decide not to reveal what Sanemi wrote, keeping your phone obscured among everybody else. 

Maybe his vulgarity excited you. You were almost tempted…

[olderthannetfic]

I think you've talked before about how it's wrong to assume the only people who enjoy taboo kink like race play are bigoted white people, right? Tumblr's search remains garbage. I've been trying to formulate some thoughts on it after seeing some videos on "bad books" but I don't really know enough about real world kink culture to know what's valid critique of racism or anti-kink just hiding behind it. So I remembered you'd mentioned the topic at some point and might have some thoughts?

--

Well, first, one should apply basic logic: If shittons of women kink on the ways in which society abuses women, why wouldn't at least some ethnic minorities kink on the way society abuses them?

Second, social media overflows with jackasses saying "Listen to POC" as a thought-terminating cliche, but it's good advice as long as you grasp that you do have to evaluate which people you're listening to and what basis you have for trusting that they know something about a subject.

Honestly, I don't think this topic is that complicated. There are just a lot of cowardly white people around who are too scared of ever being seen as wrong to be willing to do a little research or stand up for anything even remotely controversial. They'll parrot the first anti they run across but not bother to engage with the comments of nonwhite kinksters who are long-time community members with informed opinions.

The person I'd listen to, personally, is Mollena Williams-Haas, a kink educator and submissive. She has talked about race play here, among many other places.

Her comments boil down to it being about consent. If kinksters want to play with a concept and everyone involved is on the same page, it's not the business of outsiders to tell them it's off limits.

Playing with heavy topics in an agreed upon way is completely different from having that thing sprung on you without warning. We're used to making this distinction when people are playing with the trappings of rape but, somehow, lose our goddamn minds when the topic is racism.

Now, yes, there are plenty of gross white creeps who think nonwhite kinksters will inherently be interested in this sort of thing and should cater to them... but how is that any different from your usual pest in a bar chatting up uninterested parties and refusing to take no for an answer? The problem isn't squicky kinks that many of us don't want to hear about: The problem is jackasses treating others as a fantasy and/or kink dispenser instead of a person with feelings and needs.

Frankly, most of the arguments against this sort of kink are your usual "As a woman, you should be setting a good example!" bilge that's leveled at all submissive women but on steroids because a woman of color is extra, extra, extra responsible for living her whole life as An Example. (And I notice that it's generally submissive nonwhite women who come in for the most abuse even though plenty of other dynamics exist. Quelle surprise.) It's bullshit. People should mind their own damn business.

As for "bad books"... Are we talking bodice rippers with nonwhite heroines or what? Are we back to colonizer romance wank? Books about characters engaging in race play in a BDSM context? I think it's reasonable to critique books that don't seem to know what they're doing—e.g. not seeming aware that a rape scene is one—but stupid to worry about iddy trash that is trying to be iddy trash. People will always like socially unacceptable id fodder. Some books will always cater to that.